Poems, chiefly dramatic and lyric by the Revd. H. Boyd ... containing the following dramatic poems: The Helots, a tragedy, The Temple of Vesta, The Rivals, The Royal Message. Prize Poems, &c. &c |
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
TO THE RIGHT REVEREND THOMAS PERCY, LORD BISHOP OF DROMORE,
|
 | Poems, chiefly dramatic and lyric |  |
645
TO THE RIGHT REVEREND THOMAS PERCY, LORD BISHOP OF DROMORE,
ON HIS RETURN TO IRELAND, ANNO. 1793.
Welcome! thrice welcome to those shores, again
Escap'd the perils of th'autumnal main! [OMITTED]
O'er many a mournful trophy, won and lost,
Four times the burning line Hyperion crost,
And, wheeling round from either tropic, view'd
Waste realms, and flaming towns, and fields of blood.
While to his eye, our planet's face afar
Display the sanguine, stern, eclipse of war,
Whence Blasphemy, with deep, volcanic rage,
Seem'd war with heaven, and man, at once to wage;
Since Taste and Genius wept the western gale
That wing'd, for other shores, thy parting sail.
Not long they mourn'd; for, tho' you seem'd to part,
Your country's purest love, that warm'd your heart,
Still led you, like Verona's sage, to find
What fatal cause had fir'd the general mind,
What chance had given the flaming chaos way,
Whose loud, eruptive storm obscur'd the day.
Undaunted round the verge you seem'd to go,
And mark the fiery flood that rav'd below,
Then, with deep thought, explor'd the mighty charm
Of sovereign power to lay the coming storm.—
From the calm regions of eternal rest,
Ev'n from the splendid mansions of the blest,
You call'd the mighty spirit to your aid,
Who here, in mortal form, the Crozier sway'd.
On thee the mit'red saint, benignant, smiles,
And aids, with viewless hand, thy noble toils.
Escap'd the perils of th'autumnal main! [OMITTED]
O'er many a mournful trophy, won and lost,
Four times the burning line Hyperion crost,
And, wheeling round from either tropic, view'd
Waste realms, and flaming towns, and fields of blood.
While to his eye, our planet's face afar
Display the sanguine, stern, eclipse of war,
Whence Blasphemy, with deep, volcanic rage,
Seem'd war with heaven, and man, at once to wage;
Since Taste and Genius wept the western gale
That wing'd, for other shores, thy parting sail.
646
Your country's purest love, that warm'd your heart,
Still led you, like Verona's sage, to find
What fatal cause had fir'd the general mind,
What chance had given the flaming chaos way,
Whose loud, eruptive storm obscur'd the day.
Undaunted round the verge you seem'd to go,
And mark the fiery flood that rav'd below,
Then, with deep thought, explor'd the mighty charm
Of sovereign power to lay the coming storm.—
From the calm regions of eternal rest,
Ev'n from the splendid mansions of the blest,
You call'd the mighty spirit to your aid,
Who here, in mortal form, the Crozier sway'd.
On thee the mit'red saint, benignant, smiles,
And aids, with viewless hand, thy noble toils.
O may'st thou, like the warm approach of spring,
That Promethæan charm, to Eirin bring,
Which dull, cold hearts will own, with filial awe,
And learn to beat for Loyalty and Law!—
By thee recall'd, our buried bards arise,
Visions of ancient glory meet our eyes;
The lyre resounds, to former ages dear,
And long-forgotten warblings charm the ear.
Amid the laurel'd pomp we see thee stand,
The trembling chords obey thy skilful hand;
The Phrygian harp renews its sweetest strain,
And Bertram's sorrows wound the list'ning train. [OMITTED]
In ancient times the muses worth was priz'd,
Her aid the social virtues recognized;
Nor are her charms decay'd, while Percy's name
Supports her state, and dignifies her claim.
The muse will earn her wreath, for she can quell
The demagogue, and mar the sophist's spell:
The descant bold of Thracia's lyre alone,
Baffled the Syrens with commanding tone;
When their smooth measures lull'd the slumb'ring main,
And warriors melted at the magic strain.
But nobler arts are thine, sublimer toils,
When Zion crowns thy cares with other spoils;
When Sorrow dries her tears, Despondence flies,
As thou unfold'st the counsels of the skies:
When touched by thee, her holy valves unclose,
And far within, the sacred splendor glows,
While, thro' the mazy walk, thy powerful hand,
Conducts thy pupil to the central stand.
Whence his clear ken, by heavenly art refin'd,
Takes in the mighty scheme that fills the mind;
While at each glance, Imagination burns,
And as he views, the man to angel turns.
O may the sacred influence spread around,
Till wild licentious rage, with awe profound,
Submits, obsequious, to its wide controll,
And claim the nobler freedom of the soul!
That Promethæan charm, to Eirin bring,
Which dull, cold hearts will own, with filial awe,
And learn to beat for Loyalty and Law!—
647
Visions of ancient glory meet our eyes;
The lyre resounds, to former ages dear,
And long-forgotten warblings charm the ear.
Amid the laurel'd pomp we see thee stand,
The trembling chords obey thy skilful hand;
The Phrygian harp renews its sweetest strain,
And Bertram's sorrows wound the list'ning train. [OMITTED]
In ancient times the muses worth was priz'd,
Her aid the social virtues recognized;
Nor are her charms decay'd, while Percy's name
Supports her state, and dignifies her claim.
The muse will earn her wreath, for she can quell
The demagogue, and mar the sophist's spell:
The descant bold of Thracia's lyre alone,
Baffled the Syrens with commanding tone;
When their smooth measures lull'd the slumb'ring main,
And warriors melted at the magic strain.
648
When Zion crowns thy cares with other spoils;
When Sorrow dries her tears, Despondence flies,
As thou unfold'st the counsels of the skies:
When touched by thee, her holy valves unclose,
And far within, the sacred splendor glows,
While, thro' the mazy walk, thy powerful hand,
Conducts thy pupil to the central stand.
Whence his clear ken, by heavenly art refin'd,
Takes in the mighty scheme that fills the mind;
While at each glance, Imagination burns,
And as he views, the man to angel turns.
O may the sacred influence spread around,
Till wild licentious rage, with awe profound,
Submits, obsequious, to its wide controll,
And claim the nobler freedom of the soul!
The leader thus of Israel's holy choir,
(When bloody Saul, with persecuting Ire
Th'anointed youth of Heaven's own choice pursued,
Resolv'd to stain the sacred court with blood,)
Struck the sweet lyre, and rais'd the potent lay,
The demons heard the hymn, with pale dismay,
And from their ancient home with fury chac'd,
Forsook their mansion in the maniac's breast.
(When bloody Saul, with persecuting Ire
Th'anointed youth of Heaven's own choice pursued,
Resolv'd to stain the sacred court with blood,)
Struck the sweet lyre, and rais'd the potent lay,
The demons heard the hymn, with pale dismay,
And from their ancient home with fury chac'd,
Forsook their mansion in the maniac's breast.
His Lordship is engaged in a republication of the works of the celebrated Dr. Jeremy Taylor, some time Lord Bishop of Down and Connor; a design eminently adapted to promote the true evangelical spirit of pure philanthropy, Christian moderation, and subjection to legal authority.
------Οι δ' απο νηος
Ηδη πεισματ' εμελλον επ ηιονεσσι βαλεσθαι
Ει με αρ Οιαγροιο παις Θρηικιος Ορφευς
Βισονιην ενι χερσι εαις φορμιγγα τανυσσας
Κραιπνον ευτρυχαλοιο μελος Καναχησεν αοιδης
Οφρ' αμυδις κλονεοντος επιβρομεωνται ακουαι
Κρεγμω, παρθενικην ενοπην εβιησατο φορμιψξ.
Ηδη πεισματ' εμελλον επ ηιονεσσι βαλεσθαι
Ει με αρ Οιαγροιο παις Θρηικιος Ορφευς
Βισονιην ενι χερσι εαις φορμιγγα τανυσσας
Κραιπνον ευτρυχαλοιο μελος Καναχησεν αοιδης
Οφρ' αμυδις κλονεοντος επιβρομεωνται ακουαι
Κρεγμω, παρθενικην ενοπην εβιησατο φορμιψξ.
Apol. Rhod. B, 4. l. 904.
| Poems, chiefly dramatic and lyric | |