The Poetical Works of Anna Seward :: :: University of Virginia Library

Sorrowing, the Nine beneath yon blasted yew
Shed the soft drops of pity's holy dew;
Mute are their tuneful tongues, extinct their fires;
Yet not in silence sleep their silver lyres;
To the bleak gale they vibrate sad and slow,
In deep accordance to a Nation's woe.

Ye, who ere-while for Cook's illustrious brow
Pluck'd the green laurel, and the oaken bough,
Hung the gay garlands on the trophied oars,
And pour'd his fame along a thousand shores,
Strike the slow death-bell!—weave the sacred verse,
And strew the cypress o'er his honour'd hearse;
In sad procession wander round the shrine,
And weep him mortal, whom ye sung divine!

Say first, what Power inspir'd his dauntless breast
With scorn of danger and inglorious rest,
To quit imperial London's gorgeous domes,
Where, deck'd in thousand tints, young Pleasure roams;
In cups of summer-ice her nectar pours,
Or twines, 'mid wint'ry snows, her roseate bowers;
Where the warm Orient loads Britannia's gales
With all the incense of Sabæan vales;
Where soft Italia's silken sons prolong
The lavish cadence of the artful song;
Where Beauty moves with fascinating grace,
Calls the sweet blush to wanton o'er her face,
On each fond youth her soft artillery tries,
Aims the light smile, and rolls the frolic eyes:
What Power inspir'd his dauntless breast to brave
The scorch'd Equator, and th' Antarctic wave?
Climes, where fierce Suns in cloudless ardors shine,
And pour the dazzling deluge round the Line;
The realms of frost, where icy mountains rise,
'Mid the pale summer of the polar skies?—
It was Benevolence!—on coasts unknown,
The shiv'ring natives of the frozen zone,
And the swart Indian, as he faintly strays
“Where Cancer reddens in the solar blaze,”
She bade him seek;—on each inclement shore
Plant the rich seeds of her exhaustless store;

Unite the savage hearts, and hostile hands,
In the firm compact of her gentle bands;
Strew her soft comforts o'er the barren plain,
Sing her sweet lays, and consecrate her fane.
While half the warring world, in senseless strife,
Dire thirst of power, and lavish waste of life,
Sent their hoarse thunders o'er the seas to roar,
And dye the distant waves in human gore,
O fair Benevolence! thy guiding ray
With light so pure illum'd the wat'ry way,
Amaz'd and charm'd the Sons of Ravage stood,
And by its lustre, streaming o'er the flood,
Mark'd thy mild Hero's rising ships afar,
And hush'd to peace the brazen throat of War;
His sacred ensigns view'd with moisten'd eye,
And struck the blood-stain'd flag, and sail'd admiring by!
When high in rage the troubled deep they plough'd,
Thus to thy charms War's haughty chieftains bow'd,
Lovely Benevolence!—O Nymph divine!
I see thy light step print the burning Line!
Thy lucid eye the dubious pilot guides,
The faint oar struggling with the scalding tides.—
On as thou lead'st the bold, the glorious prow,
Mild, and more mild, the sloping sun-beams glow;
Now weak and pale the lessen'd lustres play,
As round th' horizon rolls the timid day;

Barb'd with the sleeted snow, the driving hail,
Rush the fierce arrows of the polar gale;
And through the dim, unvaried, ling'ring hours,
Wide o'er the waves incumbent Horror low'rs.

From the rude summit of yon frozen steep,
Contrasting Glory gilds the dreary deep!
Lo!—deck'd with vermil youth and beamy grace,
Hope in her step, and gladness in her face,
Light on the icy rock, with outstretch'd hands,
The Goddess of the new Columbus stands.
Round her bright head the plumy peterels soar,
Blue as her robe, that sweeps the frozen shore;
Glows her soft cheek, as vernal mornings fair,
And warm as summer-suns her golden hair;
O'er the hoar waste her radiant glances stream,
And courage kindles in their magic beam.
She points the ship its mazy path, to thread
The floating fragments of the frozen bed.

While o'er the deep, in many a dreadful form,
The giant Danger howls along the storm,
Furling the iron sails with numbed hands,
Firm on the deck the great Adventurer stands;
Round glitt'ring mountains hears the billows rave,
And the vast ruin thunder on the wave.—
Appal'd he hears!—but checks the rising sigh,
And turns on his firm band a glist'ning eye.—
Not for himself the sighs unbidden break,
Amid the terrors of the icy wreck;
Not for himself starts the impassion'd tear,
Congealing as it falls;—nor pain, nor fear,
Nor Death's dread darts, impede the great design,
Till Nature draws the circumscribing line.
Huge rocks of ice th' arrested ship embay,
And bar the gallant Wanderer's dangerous way.—
His eye regretful marks the Goddess turn
The assiduous prow from its relentless bourn.

And now antarctic Zealand's drear domain
Frowns, and o'erhangs th' inhospitable main.
On its chill beach this dove of human-kind
For his long-wand'ring foot short rest shall find,
Bear to the coast the olive-branch in vain,
And quit on wearied wing the hostile plain.—
With jealous low'r the frowning natives view
The stately vessel, and adventurous crew;
Nor fear the brave, nor emulate the good,
But scowl with savage thirst of human blood!
And yet there were, who in this iron clime
Soar'd o'er the herd on Virtue's wing sublime;
Rever'd the stranger-guest, and smiling strove
To sooth his stay with hospitable love;
Fann'd in full confidence the friendly flame,
Join'd plighted hands, and name exchang'd for name.
To these the Hero leads his living store,
And pours new wonders on th' uncultur'd shore

The silky fleece, fair fruit, and golden grain;
And future herds and harvests bless the plain.
O'er the green soil the kids exulting play,
And sounds his clarion loud the bird of day;
The downy goose her ruffled bosom laves,
Trims her white wing, and wantons in the waves;
Stern moves the bull along th' affrighted shores,
And countless nations tremble as he roars.
So when the Daughter of eternal Jove,
And Ocean's God, to bless their Athens strove,
The massy trident with gigantic force
Cleaves the firm earth—and lo! the stately horse;
He paws the ground, impatient of the rein,
Shakes his high front, and thunders o'er the plain.
Then Wisdom's Goddess plants the embryon seed,
And bids new foliage shade the sultry mead;
'Mid the pale green the tawny olive shine,
And famish'd thousands bless the hand divine.

Now the warm solstice o'er the shining bay,
Darts from the north its mild meridian ray;
Again the Chief invokes the rising gale,
And spreads again in desert seas the sail;

O'er dangerous shoals his steady steerage keeps,
O'er walls of coral, ambush'd in the deeps;
Strong Labour's hands the crackling cordage twine,
And sleepless Patience heaves the guardian line.
Borne on fierce eddies black Tornado springs,
Dashing the gulphy main with ebon wings;
In the vex'd foam his sweeping trail he shrouds,
And rears his serpent-crest amid the clouds;
Wrapp'd in dark mists with hideous bellowing roars,
Drives all his tempests on, and shakes the shores.
Already has the groaning ship resign'd
Half her proud glories to the furious wind.
The fear-struck mariner beholds from far,
In gathering rage, the elemental war;
As rolls the rising vortex, stands aghast,
Folds the rent sail, or clasps the shivering mast!
Onward, like Night, the frowning Demon comes,
Show'rs a dread deluge from his shaken plumes;
Fierce as he moves the gulphed sand uptears,
And high in air the shatter'd canvass bears.
Hardly the heroes in that fateful hour
Save the torn navy from his whelming power;

But soon from Industry's restoring hand,
New masts aspire, and snowy sails expand.
On a lone beach a rock-built temple stands,
Stupendous pile! unwrought by mortal hands;
Sublime the ponderous turrets rise in air,
And the wide roof basaltic columns bear;
Through the long aisles the murm'ring tempestsblow,
And Ocean chides his dashing waves below.
From this fair fane, along the silver sands,
Two sister-virgins wave their snowy hands;
First gentle Flora —round her smiling brow
Leaves of new forms, and flow'rs uncultur'd glow;
Thin folds of vegetable silk, behind,
Shade her white neck, and wanton in the wind;
Strange sweets, where'er she turns, perfume the glades,
And fruits unnam'd adorn the bending shades.

—Next Fauna treads, in youthful beauty's pride,
A playful Kangroo bounding by her side;
Around the Nymph her beauteous Pois display
Their varied plumes, and trill the dulcet lay;
A Giant-bat, with leathern wings outspread,
Umbrella light, hangs quiv'ring o'er her head.
As o'er the cliff her graceful steps she bends,
On glitt'ring wing her insect train attends.
With diamond-eye her scaly tribes survey
Their Goddess-nymph, and gambol in the spray.
With earnest gaze the still enamour'd crew
Mark the fair forms; and as they pass, pursue;

But round the steepy rocks, and dangerous strand,
Rolls the white surf, and shipwreck guards the land.
So, when of old, Sicilian shores along,
Enchanting Syrens trill'd th' alluring song,
Bound to the mast the charm'd Ulysses hears,
And drinks the sweet tones with insatiate ears;
Strains the strong cords, upbraids the prosp' rous gale,
And sighs, as Wisdom spreads the flying sail.

Now leads Benevolence the destin'd way,
Where all the Loves in Otaheite stray.
To bid the Arts disclose their wond'rous pow'rs,
To bid the Virtues consecrate the bow'rs,
She gives her Hero to its blooming plain:—
Nor has he wander'd, has he bled in vain!
His lips persuasive charm th' uncultur'd youth,
Teach Wisdom's lore, and point the path of Truth.
See! chasten'd love in softer glances flows,
See! with new fires parental duty glows.

Thou smiling Eden of the southern wave,
Could not, alas! thy grateful wishes save
That angel-goodness, which had blest thy plain?—
Ah! vain thy gratitude, thy wishes vain!
On a far distant, and remorseless shore,
Where human fiends their dire libations pour;
Where treachery, hov'ring o'er the blasted heath,
Poises with ghastly smile the darts of death,
Pierc'd by their venom'd points, your favorite bleeds,
And on his limbs the lust of hunger feeds!
Thus when, of old, the muse-born Orpheus bore
Fair Arts and Virtues to the Thracian shore;
Struck with sweet energy the warbling wire,
And pour'd persuasion from th' immortal lyre;
As soften'd brutes, the waving woods among,
Bow'd their meek heads, and listen'd to the song;
Near, and more near, with rage and tumult loud,
Round the bold bard th' inebriate maniacs crowd—
Red on the ungrateful soil his life-blood swims,
And Fiends and Furies tear his quiv'ring limbs!

Gay Eden of the south, thy tribute pay,
And raise, in pomp of woe, thy Cook's Morai!

Bid mild Omiah bring his choicest stores,
The juicy fruits, and the luxuriant flow'rs;
Bring the bright plumes, that drink the torrid ray,
And strew the lavish spoil on Cook's Morai!
Come, Oberea, hapless fair-one! come,
With piercing shrieks bewail thy Hero's doom!—
She comes!—she gazes round with dire survey!—
Oh! fly the mourner on her frantic way.
See! see! the pointed ivory wounds that head,
Where late the Loves impurpled roses spread;
Now stain'd with gore, her raven tresses flow,
In ruthless negligence of maddening woe;
Loud she laments!—and long the Nymph shall stray
With wild unequal step round Cook's Morai!

But ah!—aloft on Albion's rocky steep,
That frowns incumbent o'er the boiling deep,
Solicitous, and sad, a softer form
Eyes the lone flood, and deprecates the storm.—
Ill-fated Matron!—far, alas! in vain
Thy eager glances wander o'er the main!—

'Tis the vex'd billows, that insurgent rave,
Their white foam silvers yonder distant wave,
'Tis not his sails!—thy Husband comes no more!
His bones now whiten an accursed shore!—
Retire,—for hark! the sea-gull shrieking soars,
The lurid atmosphere portentous low'rs;
Night's sullen spirit groans in ev'ry gale,
And o'er the waters draws the darkling veil,
Sighs in thy hair, and chills thy throbbing breast—
Go, wretched Mourner!—Weep thy griefs to rest!
Yet, though through life is lost each fond delight,
Though set thy earthly sun in dreary night,
Oh! raise thy thoughts to yonder starry plain,
And own thy sorrow selfish, weak, and vain;
Since, while Britannia, to his virtues just,
Twines the bright wreath, and rears th' immortal bust;
While on each wind of heav'n his fame shall rise,
In endless incense to the smiling skies;
The attendant Power, that bade his sails expand,
And waft her blessings to each barren land,
Now raptur'd bears him to the immortal plains,
Where Mercy hails him with congenial strains;
Where soars, on Joy's white plume, his spirit free,
And angels choir him, while he waits for Thee.

The Peterel is a bird found in the frozen seas; its neck and tail are white, and its wings of a bright blue.

“In the course of the last 24 hours, we passed through several fields of broken ice; they were in gencral narrow, but of considerable extent. In one part the pieces of ice were so close, that the ship had much difficulty to thread them.”

“Our sails and rigging were so frozen, that they seemed plates of iron.”

The breaking of one of these immense mountains of ice, and the prodigious noise it made, is particularly described in Cook's second voyage to the South Pole.

“After running four leagues this course, with the ice on our starboard side, we found ourselves quite embayed, the ice extending from north-north-east, round by the west and south, to east, in one compact body; the weather was tolerably clear, yet we could see no end to it.”

“To carry a green branch in the hand on landing, is a pacific signal, universally understood by all the islanders in the South Seas.”

The exchange of names is a pledge of amity among these islanders, and was frequently proposed by them to Captain Cook and his people; so also is the joining noses.

Captain Cook left various kinds of animals upon this coast, together with garden-seeds, &c. The Zealanders had hitherto subsisted upon fish, and such coarse vegetables as their climate produced; and this want of better provision, it is supposed, induced them to the horrid practice of eating human flesh.

The coral rocks are described as rising perpendicularly from the greatest depths of the ocean, insomuch that the sounding-line could not reach their bottom; and yet they were but just covered with water. These rocks are now found to be fabricated by sea-insects.

“We had now passed several months with a man constantly in the chains heaving the lead.”

“On one part of this isle there was a solitary rock, rising on the coast with arched cavities, like a majestic temple.”

Flora is the Goddess of modern Botany, and Fauna of modern Zoology: hence the pupils of Linnæus call their books Flora Anglica—Fauna Danica, &c. “The Flora of one of these islands contained 30 new plants.”

In New Zealand is a flag of which the natives make their nets and cordage. The fibres of this vegetable are longer and stronger than our hemp and flax; and some, manufactured in London, is as white and glossy as fine silk. This valuable vegetable will probably grow in our climate.

The Kangroo is an animal peculiar to those climates. It is perpetually jumping along on its hind legs, its fore legs being too short to be used in the manner of other quadrupeds.

“The Poi-bird, common in those countries, has feathers of a fine mazarine blue, except those of the neck, which are of a beautiful silver grey; and two or three short white ones, which are in the pinion-joint of the wing. Under its throat hang two little tufts of curled white feathers, called its poies, which, being the Otaheitean word for ear-rings, occasioned our giving that name to the bird; which is not more remarkable for the beauty of its plumage, than for the exquisite melody of its note.”

The bats which captain Cook saw in some of these countries were of incredible dimensions, measuring three feet and a half in breadth, when their wings were extended.

“As we passed this island, many of its trees had an unusual appearance, and the richness of the vegetation much invited our naturalists to land, but their earnest wishes were in vain, from the dangerous reefs and the violence of the surfs.”

Captain Cook observes, in his second voyage, that the women of Otaheite were grown more modest, and that the barbarous practice of destroying their children was lessened.

The Morai is a kind of funeral altar, which the people of Otaheite raise to the memory of their deceased friends. They bring to it a daily tribute of fruits, flowers, and the plumage of birds. The chief mourner wanders around it in a state of apparent distraction, shrieking furiously, and striking at intervals a shark's tooth into her head. All people fly her, as she aims at wounding not only herself, but others.