The poems and songs of William Hamilton of Bangour collated with the ms. volume of his poems, and containing several pieces hitherto unpublished; with illustrative notes, and an account of the life of the author. By James Paterson |
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THE YOUNGEST GRACE.
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 | The poems and songs of William Hamilton of Bangour |  |
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THE YOUNGEST GRACE.
A LOVE ELEGY, ADDRESSED TO A LADY WHO HAD JUST FINISHED HER FIFTEENTH YEAR.
His saltem accumulem donis et fungar inani
Munere ------
Virg. Æneid VI.
Munere ------
Virg. Æneid VI.
As beauty's queen, in her ærial hall,
Sublimely seated on a golden throne,
Before her high tribunal summoned all
Who or on earth, sea, air, her empire own.
First came her son, her power, her darling boy,
Whose gentlest breath can raise the fiercest flame,
Oft working mischief, though his end be joy,
And though devoid of sight, yet sure of aim.
With him, his youthful consort, sad no more,
Psyche, enfranchised from all mortal pain,
Who, every trial of obedience o'er,
Enjoys the blessings of the heavenly reign.
Next, as it well beseemed, the tuneful nine,
Daughters of memory, and dear to Jove,
Who, as they list, the hearts of men incline
To wit, to music, poetry, or love.
She who with milder breath inspiring fills,
Than ever zephyr knew, the heart-born sigh,
Or else from nature's pregnant source distils
The tender drops that swell the love-sick eye.
Or she who from her copious store affords,
When love decrees, the faithful youth to bless,
The sacred energy of melting words,
In the dear hour, and season of success.
Last in the train, two sisters fair appeared,
Sorrowing they seemed, yet seemed their sorrow sweet;
Nor ever from the ground their eyes they reared,
Nor tripped, as they were wont, on snowy feet.
The Cyprian goddess cast her eyes around,
And gazed o'er all, with ever-new delight;
So bright an host was nowhere to be found:
Her heart dilates, and glories in its might.
But when, without their loved companion dear,
Two solitary graces hand in hand
Approached, the goddess inly 'gan to fear
What might befal the youngest of the band.
Ah! whither is retired my darling joy,
My youngest grace, the pride of all my reign?
First in my care, and ever in my eye,
Why is she now the lag of all my train?
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Which, goddess as I am, I can't foresee;
Some dire disaster labours (ah, my fate!)
To wrest love's sceptre from my son and me.
She wept: not more she wept, when first her eyes
Saw low in dust her Ilion's towery pride;
Nor from her breast more frequent burst the sighs,
When her loved youth, her dear Adonis, died.
Yet, yet, she cried, I will a monarch reign!
In my last deed my greatness shall be seen:
Ye loves, ye smiles, ye graces, all my train,
Attend your mother, and obey your queen.
Wisdom's vain goddess weaves some treacherous wile,
Or haughty Juno, heaven's relentless dame;
Haste! bend each bow; haste! brighten every smile,
And launch from every eye the lightning's flame.
Then had fell discord broke the golden chain
That does the harmony of all uphold,
And where these orbs in beauteous order reign,
Brought back the anarchy of chaos old:
When Cupid keen unlocks his feathered store,
When Venus burns with more than mortal fire,
Mortals, immortals, all had fled before
The loves, the graces, and the smiles in ire:
In vain, to avert the horrors of that hour,
Anxious for fate, and fearing for his sky,
The sire of gods and men had tried his power,
And hung his golden balances on high:
Had not the eldest grace, serene and mild,
Who wished this elemental war might cease,
Sprung forward, with persuasive look, and smiled
The furious mother of desires to peace.
Ah! whence this rage, vain child of empty fear?
With accent mild thus spoke the heavenly maid,
What words, O sovereign of hearts! severe
Have passed the roses of thy lips unweighed?
Think not mankind forsake thy mystic law:
Thy son, thy pride, thy own Cupido reigns;
Heard with respect, and seen with tender awe;
Mighty on thrones, and gentle on the plains.
Rememberest not how in the blest abodes
Of high Olympus an etherial guest,
Mixed with the synod of the assembled gods,
Thou shared'st the honours of the ambrosial feast?
Celestial pleasures reigning all around,
Such as the powers who live at ease enjoy,
The smiling bowl with life immortal crowned,
By rosy Hebe, and the Phrygian boy:
Hermes, sly god! resolved thy spleen to hit,
Thy spleen, but, of itself, too apt to move;
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That foe perverse to nature and to love.
Much glozed he spiteful, how rebellious youth,
Lost to thy fear, and recreant from thy name,
False to the interest of the heart, and truth,
On foreign altars kindles impious flame.
Much glozed he tauntful, how to nobler aims
The youth awakening from each female wile,
No longer met in love's opprobrious flames,
Slaves to an eye, or vassals to a smile.
Now fifteen years the still-returning spring
With flowers the bosom of the earth has sowed,
As oft the groves heard Philomela sing,
And trees have paid the fragrant gifts they owed,
Since our dear sister left the heavenly bowers:
So willed the fates, and such their high command,
She should be born in high Edina's towers,
To thee far dearer than all other lands.
There, clad in mortal form, she lies concealed,
A veil more bright than mortal form e'er knew;
So fair was ne'er to dreaming bard revealed,
Nor sweeter e'er the shaddowing pencil drew.
Where'er the beauteous heart-compeller moves,
She scatters wide perdition all around:
Blessed with celestial form, and crowned with loves,
No single breast is refractory found.
Vain Pallas now the unequal conflict shuns;
Vain are the terrors of her Gorgon shield:
Wit bends—but chief Apollo's yielding sons—
To thy fair doves Juno's proud peacocks yield.
No rival powers thy envied empire share;
Revolted mortals crowd again thy shrine;
Duteous to love, and every pleasing care,
All hearts are her's, and all her heart is thine.
So mild a sway the willing nations own;
By her thou triumph'st o'er this subject ball;
Whilst men (the secret of the skies unknown)
The beauteous apparition Laura call.
| The poems and songs of William Hamilton of Bangour | |