 | American poems, selected and original |  |
251
ORIGINAL POETRY.
AN ELEGY,
Written in February 1791.
By Mr. Richard Alsop.
Dark is the hour and lone, o'er icy plains
The wandering meteors gleam a deadly light;
Wild howls the blast amid descending rains,
And forms funereal flit along the night.
The wandering meteors gleam a deadly light;
Wild howls the blast amid descending rains,
And forms funereal flit along the night.
Retir'd from scenes where Pleasure's airy wand
Gilds the light moments with delusive joy,
Where Mirth exulting leads her festive band,
Far other scenes my pensive soul employ.
Gilds the light moments with delusive joy,
Where Mirth exulting leads her festive band,
Far other scenes my pensive soul employ.
The clouds of death that gloom the baleful year,
The days of joy, alas, so lately fled!
While Friendship bids its sympathetic tear
Stream in remembrance of the much-lov'd dead.
The days of joy, alas, so lately fled!
While Friendship bids its sympathetic tear
Stream in remembrance of the much-lov'd dead.
My friend, but now, of every bliss possest
That love connubial can on man bestow,
When mutual wishes warm the mutual breast;
Behold the prey of life-consuming woe.
That love connubial can on man bestow,
When mutual wishes warm the mutual breast;
Behold the prey of life-consuming woe.
Of late, how fair the beauteous prospect show'd,
How lovely glittering in the morning's eye;
But long ere noon, like April's painted cloud,
Or hues that tinge the summer's evening sky,
How lovely glittering in the morning's eye;
But long ere noon, like April's painted cloud,
Or hues that tinge the summer's evening sky,
252
The fairy hopes that raptur'd Fancy drew,
The dream of future bliss that shone so bright,
On Fate's swift pinions vanish'd from the view,
And sunk in shadows of eternal night.—
The dream of future bliss that shone so bright,
On Fate's swift pinions vanish'd from the view,
And sunk in shadows of eternal night.—
What notes of woe in mournful cadence swell
Along the Western breeze from climes afar,
Mix'd with the dying groan, the savage yell,
And all the horrid dissonance of war!
Along the Western breeze from climes afar,
Mix'd with the dying groan, the savage yell,
And all the horrid dissonance of war!
And lo! mid gliding spectres dimly seen,
Pale as the mists that Autumn's car surround,
A form superior lifts his pensive mien,
While on his bosom glares the shadowy wound.
Pale as the mists that Autumn's car surround,
A form superior lifts his pensive mien,
While on his bosom glares the shadowy wound.
“Behold,” he cries, “the band who lately bled,
“Mid western wilds in glorious conflict slain;
“While recreant troops in pale confusion fled,
“Ignobly left unburied on the plain.”—
“Mid western wilds in glorious conflict slain;
“While recreant troops in pale confusion fled,
“Ignobly left unburied on the plain.”—
Far opes the view, sublime in savage pride
A wild unbounded frowns on Fancy's eye;
Tall rise the trees, and o'er savannahs wide
The rank grass trembles to the breeze on high.
A wild unbounded frowns on Fancy's eye;
Tall rise the trees, and o'er savannahs wide
The rank grass trembles to the breeze on high.
With torrent sweep, amid a night of woods
Where scarce the sun a livid glimmering lends,
A blood-stain'd river rolls his foaming floods,
And o'er the plains in wild meanders bends.
Where scarce the sun a livid glimmering lends,
A blood-stain'd river rolls his foaming floods,
And o'er the plains in wild meanders bends.
Lo! this the scene where War, with bloody hand,
Wav'd his red standard o'er the carnag'd ground;
Where wild-eyed Horror led the tawny band,
And fell the brave with dear-bought laurels crown'd.
Wav'd his red standard o'er the carnag'd ground;
Where wild-eyed Horror led the tawny band,
And fell the brave with dear-bought laurels crown'd.
253
Here, grim with gore, beneath the inclement sky,
Smote by the parching ray and driving rain,
The mangled forms of breathless warriors lie,
All pale extended on the lonely plain.
Smote by the parching ray and driving rain,
The mangled forms of breathless warriors lie,
All pale extended on the lonely plain.
In slaughter'd heaps, around promiscuous cast,
Mid savage chiefs Columbia's sons are spread,
While, breath'd from polar snows, the northern blast
Shakes its cold pinions o'er the unburied dead.
Mid savage chiefs Columbia's sons are spread,
While, breath'd from polar snows, the northern blast
Shakes its cold pinions o'er the unburied dead.
For them no more shall morning gild the sky,
No more shall May unveil her radiant charms,
No more shall Joy illume the sparkling eye,
Or Glory's voice excite the soul to arms.
No more shall May unveil her radiant charms,
No more shall Joy illume the sparkling eye,
Or Glory's voice excite the soul to arms.
Near yon grey rock by withering leaves conceal'd,
Amyntor lies, benevolent and brave;
Whose duteous hand a father's age upheld,
And smooth'd his dreary passage to the grave.
Amyntor lies, benevolent and brave;
Whose duteous hand a father's age upheld,
And smooth'd his dreary passage to the grave.
Not far, a corse distinguish'd o'er the rest,
Of noble stature and heroic mien;
Deep opes the wound that gor'd his manly breast,
And his pale features wear a smile serene.
Of noble stature and heroic mien;
Deep opes the wound that gor'd his manly breast,
And his pale features wear a smile serene.
Too well alas! that much-lov'd form I know,
Those features pale with gory dust o'erspread,
O'er whom has Friendship mourn'd in bitterest woe,
For whom Affection's tenderest tears are shed.
Those features pale with gory dust o'erspread,
O'er whom has Friendship mourn'd in bitterest woe,
For whom Affection's tenderest tears are shed.
Still, still in Fancy's view recurs the day
When war's black demons pour'd their hideous yell,
When left expos'd to savage rage a prey,
Thy gallant band beside their leader fell.
When war's black demons pour'd their hideous yell,
When left expos'd to savage rage a prey,
Thy gallant band beside their leader fell.
254
Opprest with toil, while countless foes surround,
Thy arm, thy voice, the fainting troop inspir'd;
And e'en when sinking with the deadly wound,
Thy latest breath their martial ardor fir'd.
Thy arm, thy voice, the fainting troop inspir'd;
And e'en when sinking with the deadly wound,
Thy latest breath their martial ardor fir'd.
Lamented Hero, far from weeping friends!
No funeral honours to thy corse were paid,
And no memorial o'er thy grave extends
To mark the lonely spot where low thou'rt laid.
No funeral honours to thy corse were paid,
And no memorial o'er thy grave extends
To mark the lonely spot where low thou'rt laid.
Yet what avails to please the senseless clay,
“The trophied tomb,” the monumental bust,
Or recks the spirit mid the realms of day,
The empty rites attendant on its dust.
“The trophied tomb,” the monumental bust,
Or recks the spirit mid the realms of day,
The empty rites attendant on its dust.
A fairer wreath shall friendship's hand bestow,
A fairer tribute shall thy shade receive,
Than all the idle pageantry of woe,
Than all its pompous monuments can give.
A fairer tribute shall thy shade receive,
Than all the idle pageantry of woe,
Than all its pompous monuments can give.
Long, long shall Memory's ardent eye recall
Thy worth, thy milder virtues to her view;
Thy Country long lament her hero's fall,
And o'er thee Fame her brightest laurels strew.
Thy worth, thy milder virtues to her view;
Thy Country long lament her hero's fall,
And o'er thee Fame her brightest laurels strew.
O'er the lone spot where rests thy mouldering form,
Shall opening spring her mildest breezes wave;
And Flora's hand with every fragrant charm
Deck the soft turf that forms thy verdant grove.
Shall opening spring her mildest breezes wave;
And Flora's hand with every fragrant charm
Deck the soft turf that forms thy verdant grove.
There the Wild-Rose in earliest pride shall bloom,
There the Magnolia's gorgeous flowers unfold,
The purple Violet shed its sweet perfume,
And beauteous Meadia wave her plumes of gold.
There the Magnolia's gorgeous flowers unfold,
The purple Violet shed its sweet perfume,
And beauteous Meadia wave her plumes of gold.
255
Rest much-lov'd Chief with thy Jer—a blest,
Amid yon realms of light, yon seats of joy,
Where hush'd is sorrow in perpetual rest,
And pleasure smiles unconscious of alloy.
Amid yon realms of light, yon seats of joy,
Where hush'd is sorrow in perpetual rest,
And pleasure smiles unconscious of alloy.
From that calm shore with pitying eye survey
The varying schemes of man, the busy strife,
The vain pursuits that fill his “little day,”
And toss with ceaseless storms the sea of life.
The varying schemes of man, the busy strife,
The vain pursuits that fill his “little day,”
And toss with ceaseless storms the sea of life.
While seraphs, bending from their thrones of gold,
With songs of triumph hymn thy soul to peace;
And to thy raptur'd eye, with smiles, unfold
The happy mansions of eternal bliss.
With songs of triumph hymn thy soul to peace;
And to thy raptur'd eye, with smiles, unfold
The happy mansions of eternal bliss.
VERSIFICATION
Of a Passage from the Fifth Book of Ossian's Temora.
BY THE SAME.
The hosts like two black ridges stood,
On either side wild Lubar's stream;
Here Foldath frown'd a darken'd cloud,
There Fillan shone a brightening beam.
On either side wild Lubar's stream;
Here Foldath frown'd a darken'd cloud,
There Fillan shone a brightening beam.
Their long spears glittering in the wave,
Each hero pour'd his voice afar;
Gaul struck the shield, the signal gave,
At once both armies plung'd in war.
Each hero pour'd his voice afar;
Gaul struck the shield, the signal gave,
At once both armies plung'd in war.
256
Steel pour'd its flashing gleam on steel;
The fields two rushing torrents glow,
That whitening foam, in mingled swell,
O'er the dark rock's projecting brow.
The fields two rushing torrents glow,
That whitening foam, in mingled swell,
O'er the dark rock's projecting brow.
He comes, with fame immortal crown'd,
His faulchion lays the heroes low;
Death rides the shadowy blasts around;
Thy paths O Fillan warriors strew!
His faulchion lays the heroes low;
Death rides the shadowy blasts around;
Thy paths O Fillan warriors strew!
Between two rocks in fissures rent,
Brave Rothmar stood, the warrior's pride;
Two aged oaks, that winds had bent,
Their branches spread on either side.
Brave Rothmar stood, the warrior's pride;
Two aged oaks, that winds had bent,
Their branches spread on either side.
Silent he shades his friends in flight,
While his dark eyes on Fillan roll;
Fingal beheld the approaching fight,
And all the father fill'd his soul.
While his dark eyes on Fillan roll;
Fingal beheld the approaching fight,
And all the father fill'd his soul.
As falls the stone of Loda, hurl'd
From trembling Drumanard's high cliff,
When angry spirits rock the world;
So Rothmar fell, blue-shielded chief.
From trembling Drumanard's high cliff,
When angry spirits rock the world;
So Rothmar fell, blue-shielded chief.
Young Culmin's friendly steps are near,
His eye the bursting tear o'erflows;
Wrathful he cuts the empty air,
Ere yet with Fillan's mix his blows.
His eye the bursting tear o'erflows;
Wrathful he cuts the empty air,
Ere yet with Fillan's mix his blows.
He first with Rothmar bent the bow,
Along his own blue-winding streams;
And mark'd the dwelling of the roe,
As shone the fern with morning beams.
Along his own blue-winding streams;
And mark'd the dwelling of the roe,
As shone the fern with morning beams.
257
“Why Youth would'st thou provoke the might
Of that bright beam, that wasting fire?
Unequal were your sires in fight;
Retire, Culalluins's son retire!”
Of that bright beam, that wasting fire?
Unequal were your sires in fight;
Retire, Culalluins's son retire!”
Lone in her hall, his mother casts
Her eyes o'er Strutha's winding streams;
Wrapp'd in a whirlwind's eddying blasts,
Her son's thin spectre faintly gleams.
Her eyes o'er Strutha's winding streams;
Wrapp'd in a whirlwind's eddying blasts,
Her son's thin spectre faintly gleams.
His dogs stand howling on the plain,
Red his suspended shield with gore;
“And is my fair-hair'd hero slain?
Pale does he lie on Ullin's shore?”
Red his suspended shield with gore;
“And is my fair-hair'd hero slain?
Pale does he lie on Ullin's shore?”
As pierc'd in secret lies a hind,
Panting her wonted streams beside;
The hunter views her feet of wind;
Culalluin's son thus Fillan eyed.
Panting her wonted streams beside;
The hunter views her feet of wind;
Culalluin's son thus Fillan eyed.
In a small stream his hair is roll'd,
His blood slow wanders o'er his shield;
Still grasps his hand, with dying hold,
The sword that fail'd in danger's field.
His blood slow wanders o'er his shield;
Still grasps his hand, with dying hold,
The sword that fail'd in danger's field.
“Thou'rt fallen ere thy fame was known,”
Said Fillan, musing o'er the slain;
“Elate, in hopes of thy renown,
Thy father sent thee to the plain.
Said Fillan, musing o'er the slain;
“Elate, in hopes of thy renown,
Thy father sent thee to the plain.
Perhaps, his streams grey bending o'er,
His dim eyes seek thee on the heath;
In vain,—for ah! returns no more,
His son extended pale in death.”
His dim eyes seek thee on the heath;
In vain,—for ah! returns no more,
His son extended pale in death.”
258
Wide o'er the heath, in terror lost,
The flight of Erin Fillan pour'd;
But, man on man, falls Morven's host,
Before the rage of Foldath's sword.
The flight of Erin Fillan pour'd;
But, man on man, falls Morven's host,
Before the rage of Foldath's sword.
Undaunted, Dermid meets his course;
The sons of Cona wake the fight;
But cleft his shield, by Foldath's force,
And far is spread his people's flight.
The sons of Cona wake the fight;
But cleft his shield, by Foldath's force,
And far is spread his people's flight.
The exulting foe with haughty boast,—
“Go Malthos, go to Erin's lord;
And bid him guard blue ocean's coast,
Lest Morven's king escape my sword.
“Go Malthos, go to Erin's lord;
And bid him guard blue ocean's coast,
Lest Morven's king escape my sword.
For cold must Fingal lie in gore,
Near some low fen his tomb shall rise
Without a song, while hovering o'er,
Half hid in mist, his spirit flies.”
Near some low fen his tomb shall rise
Without a song, while hovering o'er,
Half hid in mist, his spirit flies.”
In darkening doubt stood Malthos bold,
He knew the boaster's heart of pride;
Around his gloomy eyes he roll'd,
And plung'd in war with sullen stride.
He knew the boaster's heart of pride;
Around his gloomy eyes he roll'd,
And plung'd in war with sullen stride.
In Clono's narrow vale, two trees
Dark-bending o'er the rolling flood,
Shook their broad branches to the breeze;
There Duthno's son in silence stood.
Dark-bending o'er the rolling flood,
Shook their broad branches to the breeze;
There Duthno's son in silence stood.
The blood is streaming from his thigh;
A rock sustains his ashen spear;
His bossy shield lies broken nigh;
“Why Dermid, why that bursting tear?”
A rock sustains his ashen spear;
His bossy shield lies broken nigh;
“Why Dermid, why that bursting tear?”
259
“I hear the battle roar afar,
Alone my people on the plain;
No shield is mine to stem the war,
And weak and slow my steps of pain.
Alone my people on the plain;
No shield is mine to stem the war,
And weak and slow my steps of pain.
Shall Foldath then prevail in fight?
Ere that in death shall Dermid lie;
Again stern chief I'll prove thy might,
Again thy fiercest rage defy.”
Ere that in death shall Dermid lie;
Again stern chief I'll prove thy might,
Again thy fiercest rage defy.”
He seiz'd his spear the strife to join,
When Morni's son before him stood;
“Stay Dermid stay, no shield is thine,
Thy trembling steps are mark'd with blood.”
When Morni's son before him stood;
“Stay Dermid stay, no shield is thine,
Thy trembling steps are mark'd with blood.”
“Chief of Strumon give thy shield,
Oft has it stemm'd the battle's force;
This arm may yet sustain the field,
May yet repel yon boaster's course.
Oft has it stemm'd the battle's force;
This arm may yet sustain the field,
May yet repel yon boaster's course.
Behold that stone, with moss o'erspread,
Where spires the waving grass so high;
There low a kindred chief is laid—
And there in night let Dermid lie.”
Where spires the waving grass so high;
There low a kindred chief is laid—
And there in night let Dermid lie.”
Slowly he rose the hill's tall brow,
And view'd the troubled field of death;
The gleaming ranks of fight below,
Disjoin'd, and broken o'er the heath.
And view'd the troubled field of death;
The gleaming ranks of fight below,
Disjoin'd, and broken o'er the heath.
As fires at distance, seem by night
Now lost in smoke, in darkness drown'd,
Now rear on high their streams of light,
As cease or blow the winds around;
Now lost in smoke, in darkness drown'd,
Now rear on high their streams of light,
As cease or blow the winds around;
260
So met the battle from afar
Broad-shielded Dermid's eager eye.
Amidst the varying scene of war
The chief of Morna towers on high;
Broad-shielded Dermid's eager eye.
Amidst the varying scene of war
The chief of Morna towers on high;
Like some black ship, in lofty pride,
Dark rider of the billowy plain;
Wide sporting o'er the echoing tide,
When winter rules the stormy main.
Dark rider of the billowy plain;
Wide sporting o'er the echoing tide,
When winter rules the stormy main.
Dermid with rage beheld his course,
He rush'd to meet the gloomy foe;
But fails the wounded hero's force,
And tears of pride his eyes o'erflow.
He rush'd to meet the gloomy foe;
But fails the wounded hero's force,
And tears of pride his eyes o'erflow.
He sounded thrice his bossy shield,
And thrice on Foldath call'd aloud;
Foldath with joy the chief beheld,
And lifted high his spear of blood.
And thrice on Foldath call'd aloud;
Foldath with joy the chief beheld,
And lifted high his spear of blood.
As some vast rock whose rugged side
Is mark'd with streams of many a storm;
So look'd, with wandering blood bedyed
The gloomy chief of Morna's form.
Is mark'd with streams of many a storm;
So look'd, with wandering blood bedyed
The gloomy chief of Morna's form.
Each host, appall'd, in terror flies,
From the contending fierce of Kings.
At once their gleaming points arise,
With speed of lightning Fillan springs.
From the contending fierce of Kings.
At once their gleaming points arise,
With speed of lightning Fillan springs.
The haughty foe, with trembling, view'd,
That dazzling beam of early fame;
That swift, as issuing from a cloud,
To save the wounded hero came.
That dazzling beam of early fame;
That swift, as issuing from a cloud,
To save the wounded hero came.
261
In sounding strife as on the gale
Two broad-wing'd eagles fierce contend;
So, on Moilena's far-spread vale,
The chiefs in gloomy battle bend.
Two broad-wing'd eagles fierce contend;
So, on Moilena's far-spread vale,
The chiefs in gloomy battle bend.
Low on his shield is Foldath laid,
Pierc'd by the youthful hero's spear;
Nor o'er the fallen Fillan staid,
But onward roll'd the storm of war.
Pierc'd by the youthful hero's spear;
Nor o'er the fallen Fillan staid,
But onward roll'd the storm of war.
Malthos beheld the warrior low,
Low laid on Lubar's winding shore;
His bosom melts in generous woe,
And hatred fills his soul no more.
Low laid on Lubar's winding shore;
His bosom melts in generous woe,
And hatred fills his soul no more.
He seem'd a rock, down whose grey sides
The desart waters trickling stray;
When slow the sailing mist divides,
And gives its blasted trees to day.
The desart waters trickling stray;
When slow the sailing mist divides,
And gives its blasted trees to day.
Thus to the dying chief he said,—
“Say shall thy mossy stone ascend,
Where Ullin's dark green hills are spread,
Or Morna's woody vales extend?
“Say shall thy mossy stone ascend,
Where Ullin's dark green hills are spread,
Or Morna's woody vales extend?
There, where the sun looks forth serene,
On blue Dalrutho's bordering glades;
Fair Dardulena's steps are seen,
Thy daughter, pride of Erin's maids.”
On blue Dalrutho's bordering glades;
Fair Dardulena's steps are seen,
Thy daughter, pride of Erin's maids.”
“Rememberest thou,” the chief reply'd,
“The maid, because no son is mine,
To roll the battle's deathful tide,
And in revenge in arms to shine?
“The maid, because no son is mine,
To roll the battle's deathful tide,
And in revenge in arms to shine?
262
I am reveng'd, for not in vain
Has shone the lightning of my spear.
Amidst the tombs of those I've slain
My narrow house, O Malthos! rear.
Has shone the lightning of my spear.
Amidst the tombs of those I've slain
My narrow house, O Malthos! rear.
Oft shall I leave my airy fold,
To hail the spot where low they lie;
When, spread around me, I behold,
The rank grass of their graves on high.”
To hail the spot where low they lie;
When, spread around me, I behold,
The rank grass of their graves on high.”
His spirit rush'd on eddying winds,
And came to Dardulena's dream;
As, wearied with the chace of hinds,
She slept by blue Dulrutho's stream.
And came to Dardulena's dream;
As, wearied with the chace of hinds,
She slept by blue Dulrutho's stream.
Her bow unstrung is near her placed,
The breezes fold her raven hair;
Each charm of youthful beauty graced
The love of chiefs, the blue-eyed fair.
The breezes fold her raven hair;
Each charm of youthful beauty graced
The love of chiefs, the blue-eyed fair.
From the dark skirts of Morna's wood,
Her father's ghost, pale bending, gleam'd;
At times his bloody form he shew'd,
Then hid in shrouding vapors seem'd.
Her father's ghost, pale bending, gleam'd;
At times his bloody form he shew'd,
Then hid in shrouding vapors seem'd.
She rose in tears, her soul divin'd
The chief in death was lowly laid;
To her a beam of light he shin'd.
When folded in his darkest shade.
The chief in death was lowly laid;
To her a beam of light he shin'd.
When folded in his darkest shade.
263
HABAKKUK, Chap. III.
BY THE SAME.
The Lord of Hosts from Teman came,
From Paran's mount the Almighty God,—
The heavens his glory wide proclaim,
And bent the earth beneath his nod.
From Paran's mount the Almighty God,—
The heavens his glory wide proclaim,
And bent the earth beneath his nod.
As light his awful brightness show'd,—
There was the hiding of his power;
On burning coals Jehovah trode,
Dire mov'd the pestilence before.
There was the hiding of his power;
On burning coals Jehovah trode,
Dire mov'd the pestilence before.
He stood, and measur'd earth and air,
He look'd, apart the nations fled,
The eternal mountains scatter'd were,
And hills perpetual bow'd the head.
He look'd, apart the nations fled,
The eternal mountains scatter'd were,
And hills perpetual bow'd the head.
I saw when Midian's curtains shook,
I saw pale Cushan's tents in woe;
Say, did the streams thy wrath provoke?
Against them did thine anger glow?
I saw pale Cushan's tents in woe;
Say, did the streams thy wrath provoke?
Against them did thine anger glow?
Did e'er the deep his God displease,
That on thy horses thou did'st ride?
Thy path was thro' the troubled seas,
In heaps roll'd back the astonish'd tide.
That on thy horses thou did'st ride?
Thy path was thro' the troubled seas,
In heaps roll'd back the astonish'd tide.
The mountains saw, they trembling shook,
The o'erflowing waters passed by,
The mighty deep in horror spoke,
And lifted up his hands on high.
The o'erflowing waters passed by,
The mighty deep in horror spoke,
And lifted up his hands on high.
264
The rolling stars their courses stay'd,
The sun and moon stood still in fear;
Before thine arrows blaze they fled,
Before the lightning of thy spear.
The sun and moon stood still in fear;
Before thine arrows blaze they fled,
Before the lightning of thy spear.
With rivers did'st thou cleave the earth,
And naked made thy dreadful bow;
Thou march'd in indignation forth,
And laid in dust the heathen low:
And naked made thy dreadful bow;
Thou march'd in indignation forth,
And laid in dust the heathen low:
Thou wentest forth on Israel's side,
To save from death thy chosen race;
Thy sword has smote the heathen's pride,
And everlasting are thy ways.
To save from death thy chosen race;
Thy sword has smote the heathen's pride,
And everlasting are thy ways.
Altho' the fig-tree shall not shoot,
Nor grape the withering vine shall yield,
The olive shall withhold her fruit,
And blasted be the herbag'd field;
Nor grape the withering vine shall yield,
The olive shall withhold her fruit,
And blasted be the herbag'd field;
Tho' in the fold the flock shall die,
And in the stall no herd shall be,
Yet on the Lord will I rely,
Yet, O my God! will joy in thee.
And in the stall no herd shall be,
Yet on the Lord will I rely,
Yet, O my God! will joy in thee.
265
TWILIGHT OF THE GODS;
OR DESTRUCTION OF THE WORLD
FROM THE Edda, A SYSTEM OF ANCIENT SCANDINAVIAN MYTHOLOGY.
BY THE SAME.
A time shall come, a barbarous time,
Dark shadowed o'er with every crime,
When ties of kin shall cease to bind,
In love's soft bands, the human mind:
When sons their fathers' blood shall pour
And brother blush with brother's gore:
When, lost to every tender care,
Not one his dearest friend shall spare;
And man, oppress'd with bitterest woes,
Wish the sad scene of life to close.
Dark shadowed o'er with every crime,
When ties of kin shall cease to bind,
In love's soft bands, the human mind:
When sons their fathers' blood shall pour
And brother blush with brother's gore:
When, lost to every tender care,
Not one his dearest friend shall spare;
And man, oppress'd with bitterest woes,
Wish the sad scene of life to close.
Winter, clad in wild array,
Then shall hold his direst sway;
The sun withdraw his golden light,
And veil the world in darkest night;
The winds with wildest rage contend;
The snow in ceaseless storms descend;
The earth in icy fetters bound;
And desolation glare around.
Uncherish'd by one genial ray,
Three such winters pass away.
Portents dire shall then succeed;
The Monsters from their chains be freed:
Dreadful, in his fiery car,
Giant Rymer rush to war;
The Serpent roll his hideous train
Deep beneath the billowy main,
Whose lifted waters, wildly swell'd,
Wide o'er the earth shall be impell'd;
In thousands men resign their breath,
And throng the gloomy courts of death;
His prey the screaming eagle seek,
And tear the dead with gory beak;
The Earth in dread convulsions heave;
Its wonted course the river leave;
The tottering mountain headlong borne,
From its deep base resistless torn;
Rent from their roots, whole forests fall;
And one vast ruin spread o'er all.
Floating on the whelming tides,
Fate's black Ship in triumph rides;
Perfidious Loke
directs her course,
Leader of the giant force.
Fenris bursts his iron chain;
Nought his fury can restrain;
His nostrils sparkling flames expire;
His eye-balls flash terrific fire;
Urged by rage, by vengeance driven,
He rends the beauteous sun from heaven:
The Serpent floods of venom pours
O'er the wide sea and circling shores;
Rocks rush on rocks, together hurl'd;
Destruction triumphs o'er the world;
From the torn concave of the sky,
The affrighted stars confus'dly fly;
The vaults of heaven in sunder rend;
The Evil Genii swift ascend;
Pour'd from the south, in terrors dire,
Before them moves the Prince of Fire,
Surtur the Black, in flames array'd—
Shines like the sun his waving blade,
The sign of death; with him their might
The Serpent, Fenris, Loke, unite;
Succeeds a death-determined host,
The hideous Giants of the Frost.
His crooked trumpet Heimdall takes,
With potent breath the blast awakes;
Far heard thro heaven's remotest bound,
Pours the shrill clangor of the sound;
Loud crows the Cock, the bird divine,
Whose crests in golden glory shine;
Hoarse from beneath, with dismal cries,
The Herald black of death replies;
Trembles the sacred Ash with dread,
And groaning shakes its lofty head;
All nature's fill'd with wild affright;
The Gods, convened, prepare for fight.
A mid-day sun is Odin bold,
Far beaming in his arms of gold;
Against the Wolf he bends his course,
And Frey encounters Surturs's force.
The enormous serpent Thor assails;
The God's resistless might prevails;
But short his joy, he sinks in death,
From the Monster's venom'd breath.
By each others falchions slain,
Loke and Heimdall press the plain.
The snow-white God resigns his life,
By Surtur slain in furious strife.
Rushing from the dark abodes,
Death denouncing to the Gods,
Hideous howls the Dog of night;
He meets with Tyr in mortal fight;
Long the contest fierce they wage,
And victims fall of mutual rage.
Goddess, weep! thy cares are vain—
Odin falls, by Fenris slain.
Swift to vengeance Vidar flies;
By his hand the monster dies:
Wild Destruction, hovering o'er,
Waves her banner dipt in gore;
O'erpower'd the heavenly legions fall,
And Death's dark billows close on all.
The gloomy Prince, with conquest crown'd,
Dreadful scatters flames around;
In one wide conflagration driven,
The raging fires ascend to heaven;
Sinks the world to ruin's power,
And time itself exists no more.
Then shall hold his direst sway;
The sun withdraw his golden light,
And veil the world in darkest night;
The winds with wildest rage contend;
The snow in ceaseless storms descend;
The earth in icy fetters bound;
And desolation glare around.
266
Three such winters pass away.
Portents dire shall then succeed;
The Monsters from their chains be freed:
Dreadful, in his fiery car,
Giant Rymer rush to war;
The Serpent roll his hideous train
Deep beneath the billowy main,
Whose lifted waters, wildly swell'd,
Wide o'er the earth shall be impell'd;
In thousands men resign their breath,
And throng the gloomy courts of death;
His prey the screaming eagle seek,
And tear the dead with gory beak;
The Earth in dread convulsions heave;
Its wonted course the river leave;
The tottering mountain headlong borne,
From its deep base resistless torn;
Rent from their roots, whole forests fall;
And one vast ruin spread o'er all.
Floating on the whelming tides,
Fate's black Ship in triumph rides;
267
Leader of the giant force.
Fenris bursts his iron chain;
Nought his fury can restrain;
His nostrils sparkling flames expire;
His eye-balls flash terrific fire;
Urged by rage, by vengeance driven,
He rends the beauteous sun from heaven:
The Serpent floods of venom pours
O'er the wide sea and circling shores;
Rocks rush on rocks, together hurl'd;
Destruction triumphs o'er the world;
From the torn concave of the sky,
The affrighted stars confus'dly fly;
The vaults of heaven in sunder rend;
The Evil Genii swift ascend;
Pour'd from the south, in terrors dire,
Before them moves the Prince of Fire,
Surtur the Black, in flames array'd—
Shines like the sun his waving blade,
The sign of death; with him their might
The Serpent, Fenris, Loke, unite;
268
The hideous Giants of the Frost.
His crooked trumpet Heimdall takes,
With potent breath the blast awakes;
Far heard thro heaven's remotest bound,
Pours the shrill clangor of the sound;
Loud crows the Cock, the bird divine,
Whose crests in golden glory shine;
Hoarse from beneath, with dismal cries,
The Herald black of death replies;
Trembles the sacred Ash with dread,
And groaning shakes its lofty head;
All nature's fill'd with wild affright;
The Gods, convened, prepare for fight.
A mid-day sun is Odin bold,
Far beaming in his arms of gold;
Against the Wolf he bends his course,
And Frey encounters Surturs's force.
The enormous serpent Thor assails;
The God's resistless might prevails;
269
From the Monster's venom'd breath.
By each others falchions slain,
Loke and Heimdall press the plain.
The snow-white God resigns his life,
By Surtur slain in furious strife.
Rushing from the dark abodes,
Death denouncing to the Gods,
Hideous howls the Dog of night;
He meets with Tyr in mortal fight;
Long the contest fierce they wage,
And victims fall of mutual rage.
Goddess, weep! thy cares are vain—
Odin falls, by Fenris slain.
Swift to vengeance Vidar flies;
By his hand the monster dies:
Wild Destruction, hovering o'er,
Waves her banner dipt in gore;
O'erpower'd the heavenly legions fall,
And Death's dark billows close on all.
The gloomy Prince, with conquest crown'd,
Dreadful scatters flames around;
In one wide conflagration driven,
The raging fires ascend to heaven;
270
And time itself exists no more.
Bursting from existence' grave,
O'er the bosom of the wave.
Lo! a new-born World unroll'd,
Far more beauteous than the old,
Smiles adorn'd with loveliest green;
Spring unfading decks the scene;
The eagles, soaring mid the breeze,
Their fishy prey on mountains seize;
The earth her fruits spontaneous yields;
Rich harvests glad the uncultured fields;
Unknown to grief, to torturing pain,
There eternal pleasures reign.
Then, from seats of orient light,
In divinest glories bright,
Comes forth the great, the all-powerful One,
Incommunicate, alone,—
Who was ere Time began his race,
Or being fill'd the vast of space;
And, unchangable, supreme,
Thro endless ages is the same.
There a Palace glows, more bright
Than the sun's meridian light,
Where the virtuous shall reside;
And, as pleasure rolls its tide
Undebased by pain's alloy,
Know an eternity of joy.
O'er the bosom of the wave.
Lo! a new-born World unroll'd,
Far more beauteous than the old,
Smiles adorn'd with loveliest green;
Spring unfading decks the scene;
The eagles, soaring mid the breeze,
Their fishy prey on mountains seize;
The earth her fruits spontaneous yields;
Rich harvests glad the uncultured fields;
Unknown to grief, to torturing pain,
There eternal pleasures reign.
Then, from seats of orient light,
In divinest glories bright,
Comes forth the great, the all-powerful One,
Incommunicate, alone,—
Who was ere Time began his race,
Or being fill'd the vast of space;
And, unchangable, supreme,
Thro endless ages is the same.
There a Palace glows, more bright
Than the sun's meridian light,
271
And, as pleasure rolls its tide
Undebased by pain's alloy,
Know an eternity of joy.
Rymer—One of those Giants who, according to the Edda, are in continual enmity with the Gods, and shall, in co-operation with the Evil Genii, eventually overpower them.
The Great Serpent—or Serpent of Midgard, is said to have been cast by the Gods into the ocean; where he soon became of such an enormous size as to encircle the earth.—Midgard—the Residence, or Fortress of the Deities.—
Fenris,—or the Wolf,—of all the others a monster most dreaded by the Gods; who by stratagem confined him with a magic chain; which he breaks at the dissolution of nature.
Surtur,—the destroying Principle; supposed to reside in the South, in the flaming Gulf of Muspelsheim; leader of the Evil Genii, who are to destroy the Universe by Fire.
Frey,—a Deity represented as clothed in white; and supposed to preside over the productions of the earth.
Thor,—the first of the sons of Odin, and strongest of the Gods; who presides over the thunder; and whose office it is to protect the injured and oppressed.
This Being is entirely distinct from Odin, and the other Gods of the Scandinavian Mythology; who had their birth soon after the creation of the World, and who perish with it.
EXTRACT FROM THE CONQUEST OF SCANDINAVIA;
BEING THE INTRODUCTION OF THE FOURTH BOOK.
BY THE SAME.
Odin having defeated the Scandinavians in several great battles, Woldomir, the druidical sovereign of Scandinavia, reduced to the utmost distress, obtains the assistance of Grymer, Prince of the Saraceni,—a Scythian Tribe,—the hereditary foe of Odin; and having assembled his forces on an extensive plain, near the banks of a river, prepares to attack the Enemy, who are encamped on the opposite shore.—The present Book commences with the Night preceding the engagement.
Now Night, in clouds involv'd, her mantle drew,And deepest darkness veil'd the etherial blue;
Dire heard afar, with wild and hollow roar,
Hoarse groan'd the woods along the rocky shore;
Loaded with vapours dank and drizzling rains,
The chill North-east shrill whistled o'er the plains;
Pale shone the phantom fires, whose boding light
In tenfold horror vests the storms of night;
272
Shriek'd the sad spectres of the unburied dead;
Involv'd in anxious cares, and gloomy thought,
When Mondak's Son the tent of Ulfo sought.
Ulfo the old, renown'd for magic lore,
From Volga's flood to cold Kamschatka's shore;
Amid the gloom of Scythian forests bred,
Where Altai lifts on high his wintry head;
Among a savage race, rapacious, rude,
Wild as the storms that toss the Caspian flood,
As thunder dreadful, bursting from the cloud,
When Night o'er Altai hangs her sable shroud.
Olaf his sire, in fields of death renown'd,
As chief in war, the stern barbarians own'd,
Sprung from that race accurst, whose demon sway
The hoary Giants of the Frost obey,
The same stern soul which mark'd his sires of yore,
The same fell hate to Woden's laws he bore,
The same inspir'd the son, whose rebel pride
The God derided, and his power defied.
In nature vers'd, to him each plant was known
That blooms mid Scythia's snows, or Afric's torrid zone;
Each secret power that earth's dark bosom hides,
That rules in ocean, or in air presides.
To him had Grymer sent, o'er realms afar,
With costly gifts, to win him to the war,
When first imperial Woldomir implor'd,
In Scandinavia's aid, the hero's sword;
273
Of Odin's glory and of Woden's name.
In deep enquiry fix'd, the Wizard sate;
When, Grymer entering, from his seat he prest,
With eager haste, and thus the Chief addrest.
“Say, at this hour, when o'er the dreary plains,
In all her horrors, Night funereal reigns;
While shrieks of terror on the blast arise,
And the black tempest howls along the skies;
At this untimely hour, what potent cause
Forth from his tent the Prince of Scythia draws?”
“O Sire of magic!” thus the Prince replied,—
“My Shield in battle, and my counsels' guide,
Full well to thee is known what weight of care
Hangs on the vast uncertainty of war;
What anxious fears a leader's peace annoy,
Possess his soul, and every thought employ.
The chief who hopes in glory's walks to shine,
And round his brows the palms of conquest twine,
When war's dark tempest spreads its horrors round,
Not in the bowers of thoughtless Ease is found;
Not on the lap of Sloth reclines his head,
By proud Presumption's flattering glare misled;—
Which oft the vainly confident betrays,
And lights to ruin with its phantom blaze;—
But, when the hour of battle hovers near,
Neglects no caution, tho' he knows no fear.
By cares like these impell'd, I hither come,
Of rest neglectful, mid the dreary gloom;
274
And slumber seals the wearied soldier's eyes:
For lo! to morrow wakes the rage of fight,
When morning opes the golden gates of light;
To morrow gives my eager arm to dare
This scourge of Scandia's realms, this pest of war;
Gives me, perchance, that first of joys to know,
The joy of vengeance on a hated foe.
For that fell hate, which steel'd our sires of yore,
Which dyed so oft in blood Jaxartes' shore,
That hate my breast with all its rage inspires,
Sublim'd, by rival love, to fiercer fires.
Yes! still revenge has set that day aside,
When, scorn'd my passion, and my suit denied,
Hermanric's daughter gave her heaven of charms,
Detested thought! to Odin's happy arms.
But tho' my soul delights where Danger rears
His awful crest, amid the strife of spears,
And glows with transport in the fierce alarms,
The shock of battles, and the din of arms;
Tho', in comparison, the foe are lost
Mid the vast numbers of our warlike host;
Yet not, in vain security, reclin'd,
The events of battle fill my anxious mind.
Perchance the Gods, too partial to the foe,
Our strength may wither, and our hopes o'erthrow;
For Odin long has prov'd their guardian care,
By Woden shielded in the storms of war;
And still the favoring God his aid affords,
And bears him harmless mid descending swords.
How oft has Scandia mourn'd her heroes' doom,
Swept, by that arm, in thousands, to the tomb!
275
Like mountain snows before the vernal ray.
Then let the all-conquering force of spells be tried,
And range the Powers of magic on our side;
Bid panic terror hover o'er their fight,
Chill the pale foe, and turn their steps to flight;
So may thy friend a double triumph prove,
And, with a nation's wrongs, avenge his slighted love.”
The monarch ceas'd,—the words the wizard took,
While sarcasm smil'd contemptuous in his look.
“Dread'st thou that feeble race? Can Grymer's soul
Thus bend to phantom terror's vile controul?
Do thoughts like those which little minds debase,
Become the leader of a warlike race?
Thy mighty Woden, and his Gods, at most,
A narrow sway, and power precarious boast.
In time's first day-spring, when as yet the earth
Knew not its place, nor ocean roll'd to birth;
Alone one torpid, vast abyss, was seen,
Uncloth'd with form, undeck'd with cheerful green;
Ere man the breath of first existence drew;
Those sons of Bore the mighty Ymir slew,
By fraud his race confin'd, usurp'd the sway
O'er the blue mansions of unclouded day.
Yet still in fear their ill-got rule they hold,
Still dread the day, when vengeance uncontroll'd
Shall burst its chains, and, in destruction hurl'd,
A fiery deluge wrap the sinking world.
Then go, and Valhall's feeble Gods despise,
For Powers more mighty in thy aid shall rise;—
276
Live in the storm, and on “the whirlwind ride;”—
Shall whelm in dust the foes presumptuous boast,
And roll dark ruin o'er their prostrate host.”
The Wizard ceas'd—with brightening hopes inspir'd,
The Scythian monarch to his tent retir'd.
Forth from his camp the dire Enchanter stray'd,
Mid the weird horrors of the midnight shade,
Till a lone dell his wandering footsteps sound,
Fenc'd with rough cliffs, with mournful cypress crown'd,
There stay'd his course: with stern, terrific look,
Thrice wav'd on high, his magic wand he shook;
And thrice he rais'd the wild funereal yell
That calls the spirits from the abyss of hell.
When, shrilly answering to the yell afar.
Borne on the winds, three female forms appear;
Dire as the hag who, mid the dreams of night,
Pursues the fever'd hectic's trembling flight.
With gestures strange, approach the haggard band,
And nigh the wizard take their silent stand.
Near, in a rock, adown whose rugged side
The lonely waters of the desart glide,
O'ergrown with brambles, op'd an ample cave,
Drear as the gloomy mansions of the grave.
Within, the screech-owl made her mournful home,
And birds obscene that hover round the tomb;
Dark, from the moss-grown top, together clung,
Ill-omen'd bats, in torpid clusters, hung;
And o'er the bottom, with dank leaves bestrow'd,
Crept the black adder, and the bloated toad.
277
Their spells obscure, and weave the unhallow'd charm.
Muttering dire words, thrice strode the wizard round;
Thrice, with his potent wand, he smote the ground;
Deep groans ensued; on wings of circling flame,
Slow-rising from beneath, a Cauldron came;
Blue gleam'd the fires amid the shades of night,
And o'er the cavern shot a livid light.
Now op'd a horrid scene: all black with blood,
The infernal band, prepar'd for slaughter, stood.
Two beauteous babes, by griffons borne away,
While lock'd in sleep the hapless mothers lay,
Whose smiles the frozen breast to love might warm,
And e'en the unsparing wolf to pity charm,
The hags unveil'd; and sportive as they play'd,
Deep in their hearts embrued the murderous blade;
Their dying pangs with smile malignant view'd,
And life's last ebbings in the sanguine flood.
Now, mix'd with various herbs of magic power,
In the dark cauldron glows the purple gore:
The Night-shade dire, whose baleful branches wave,
In glooms of horror, o'er the murderer's grave;
The Manchineel, alluring to the eye,
Where, veil'd in beauty, deadliest poisons lie;
The far-fam'd Indian Herb, of power to move
The foes of nature to unite in love,
The serpent race to infant mildness charm,
And the fierce tiger of his rage disarm,—
Known to the tribes that range the trackless wood
Where mad Antonio heaves the headlong flood;—
278
And Upas fatal as the stroke of death:
Boil'd the black mass, the associate fiends advance,
And round the Cauldron form the magic dance.
Three times around, in mystic maze they trod,
With hideous gesture, and terrific nod;
While Runic rhymes, and words that freeze the soul,
From their blue lips, in tones of horror, roll.
The wizard rais'd his voice, the cavern round.
Wild-shuddering, trembled at the fearful sound;
In mute attention stood the haggard throng,
As thus he woke the incantatory song.
Barometz, Tartarian Lamb:—A plant found in Tartary and the northern parts of China: It is covered with a very beautiful kind of furze or wool, of a bright yellow, and in its form has some resemblance to a LAMB, appearing to stand upon four legs, from so many roots to which it is attached. It is said to be of a nature so destructive to every other species of vegetables, that none will live within its vicinity.
From the dreary realms below,
From the dark domains of fear,
From the ghastly seats of woe,
Hear! tremendous Hela, hear!
From the dark domains of fear,
From the ghastly seats of woe,
Hear! tremendous Hela, hear!
I.
Dreadful Power! whose awful formBlackens in the midnight storm;
Glares athwart the lurid skies,
While the sheeted lightening flies;
When the thunder awful roars;
When the earthquake rocks the shores;
279
Thou rul'st the elemental war.
When Famine brings her sickly train;
When Battle strews the carnag'd plain;
When Pestilence her venom'd wand
Waves o'er the desolated land;
Rush the ocean's whelming tides
O'er the foundering vessel's sides;
Then ascends thy voice on high;
Then is heard thy funeral cry;
Then, in horror, dost thou rise
On the expiring wretch's eyes.
From the dreary realms below,
From the dark domains of fear,
From the ghastly seats of woe,
Hear! tremendous Hela, hear!
From the dark domains of fear,
From the ghastly seats of woe,
Hear! tremendous Hela, hear!
II.
Goddess! whose terrific swayNastrande's realms of guilt obey;
Where, amid impervious gloom,
Sullen frowns the serpent Dome;
Roll'd beneath the envenom'd tide,
Where the sons of sorrow 'bide;
Thee, the mighty Demon host;
Thee, the Giants of the Frost;
Thee, the Genii tribes adore;
Fenris owns thy sovereign power:
And the imperial Prince of Fire,
Surtur, trembles at thine ire.
280
Thine, to turn the scale of war;
Chiefs and princes at thy call,
From their spheres of glory fall;
Empires are in ruin hurl'd;
Desolation blasts the world.
From the dreary realms below
From the dark domains of fear,
From the ghastly seats of woe,
Hear! tremendous Hela, hear!
From the dark domains of fear,
From the ghastly seats of woe,
Hear! tremendous Hela, hear!
III.
Queen of terror, queen of death!Thee, we summon from beneath.
From the deep infernal shade;
From the mansion of the dead;
Nieflehm's black, funereal dome;
Hither rise, and hither come!
By the potent Runic rhyme,
Awful, mystic, and sublime;
By the streams that roar below;
By the sable fount of woe;
By the burning gulph of pain,
Muspell's home, and Surtur's reign;
By the Day when, o'er the world,
Wild confusion shall be hurl'd,
Rymer mount his fiery car,
Giants, Genii, rush to war,
To vengeance move the Prince of Fire,
And heaven, and earth, in flames expire!
281
From the dreary realms below,
From the dark domains of fear,
From the ghastly seats of woe,
Hear! tremendous Hela! hear.
He ceas'd—the flames withdrew their magic light,From the dark domains of fear,
From the ghastly seats of woe,
Hear! tremendous Hela! hear.
And, cloth'd in deeper horrors, frown'd the night.
At once, an awful stillness paus'd around,
Hush'd were the winds, and mute the tempest's sound,
One deep, portentous, calm o'er nature spread,
Nor e'en the aspin's restless foliage play'd;—
Such the dire calm that glooms Carribean shores
Ere, rous'd to rage, the fell Tornado roars:—
Not long, for lo! from central earth releas'd,
Shrill through the cavern sigh'd an hollow blast;
Wild wails of woe, with shrieks of terror join'd,
In deathful murmurs groan along the wind;
Peal following peal, hoarse bursts the thunder round;
Redoubling echoes swell the dreadful sound;
Flash the blue lightnings in continual blaze;
One sheet of fire the kindling gloom displays;
And o'er the vault, with pale, sulphureous ray,
Pour all the horrors of infernal day.
Now heav'd the vale around, the cavern'd rock,
The earth, deep trembling, to its center shook,
Wide yawn'd the rending floor, and gave to sight
A chasm tremendous as the gates of night.
Slow from the gulph, mid lightnings faintly seen,
Rose the dread form of Death's terrific Queen;
Of wolfish aspect, and with eyes of flame,
Black Jarnvid's Witch, her fell attendant, came;
282
More fear'd by friends, more hated by the Gods.
More frightful, more deform'd, than Fancy's power
Pourtrays the demon of the midnight hour,
In hideous majesty, of various hue,
Part sallow pale, and part a livid blue,
A form gigantic, awful Hela frown'd;
Her towering head with sable serpents crown'd;
Around her waist, in many a volume roll'd,
A crimson adder wreath'd his poisonous fold;
And o'er her face, beyond description dread,
A sulphury mist its shrouding mantle spread.
Her voice, the groan of war, the shriek of woe
When sinks the city whelm'd in gulphs below,
In tones of thunder, o'er the cavern broke,
And nature shudder'd as the Demon spoke.
“Presumptuous mortal! that, with mystic strain,
Dost summon Hela from the realms of pain,
What cause thus prompts thee rashly to invade
The deep repose of death's eternal shade?
What, from the abodes of never-ending night,
Calls me, reluctant, to the climes of light?”
“Empress supreme! whose wide-extended sway
All nature owns, and earth and hell obey;
The solemn call no trivial wish inspires;
No common cause thy potent aid requires;
The dooms of empires on the issue wait,
And doubtful tremble in the scale of fate.
The glow of morn, on yon extended heath,
Will light the nations to the strife of death.
283
With Scandia's monarch, Woldomir, in fight;
By strength combin'd, proud Odin to o'erwhelm,
The fierce invader of the Scandian realm;
By Woden favor'd with peculiar grace;
Friend of the gods, and odious to thy race.
Then, in the impending fight, thy succour lend,
And o'er our host thy arm of strength extend;
The hostile bands, protected by thy foes,
With dangers circle, and with ruin close;
With wild dismay their shrinking ranks pervade;
Whelm their pale numbers in the eternal shade;
And wing, with certain aim, the missive dart,
Or point the faulchion, to the leader's heart.”
Thus Ulfo spoke—and Hela thus return'd.
“Know, while in primal night creation mourn'd,
The eternal cause, the great, all-ruling mind,
The various term of human life assign'd;
Irrevocably firm, the fix'd intent
No power can vary, and no chance prevent.
Mark'd, by the fates, for years of bloody strife,
Rolls the long flood of Odin's varied life;
Nor is it ours the stern decree to thwart
By open violence, or by covert art.
Yet still the power is left us to annoy,
Whom rigid heaven denies us to destroy;
And, tho of life secure, the hostile chief,
The wretched victim of severest grief,
Shall mourn his arms disgrac'd, on yonder plain,
His laurels blasted, and his heroes slain.”
284
The fiends, the cauldron, and the hags withdrew.
Back to the camp the Inchanter sped his way,
Ere, o'er the east, arose the first faint glimpse of day.
ODE TO CONSCIENCE.
By Theodore Dwight, Esquire.
Hail Conscience, faithful inmate of the breast!
Thy smiles can charm to sweetest rest,
Thy frowns can wake the keenest woe,
Without thy aid even heaven would grow
A cheerless void of deep distress,
And angels want the power to bless.
Thy smiles can charm to sweetest rest,
Thy frowns can wake the keenest woe,
Without thy aid even heaven would grow
A cheerless void of deep distress,
And angels want the power to bless.
When great Jehovah's voice creation form'd,
When worlds unnumber'd sprang to instant birth;
When morning stars to ecstacy were warm'd,
And man stood ruler of the boundless earth,
Thou in the realms of light and love,
Did'st dwell embossom'd with the Etherial Dove.
“Where Guilt shall dare extend her reign,
“And Satan stretch his dark domain,
“There let the tides of horror roll,
“And torture rend the sinking soul.”
The Godhead spoke,—Creation round,
Deep trembled to its utmost bound.
Hail mighty Conscience! hail!
When the black deed of guilt is done,
Thou mak'st the quivering wretch turn pale,
And startle at the sun.
When Murder fearless of thy power,
Lifts up the fateful knife,
And in the dark and midnight hour,
Destroys the guiltless life;
High swells thy awful voice:
Awaking at the fearful sound,
The fiends of vengeance gather round;
The villain starts at every noise,
His soul, to judgment summon'd, shakes,
His frame convuls'd with horror, quakes;
'Till urg'd to fate by all-resistless fear,
He owns his crime, and dies the victim of despair.
When worlds unnumber'd sprang to instant birth;
When morning stars to ecstacy were warm'd,
And man stood ruler of the boundless earth,
Thou in the realms of light and love,
Did'st dwell embossom'd with the Etherial Dove.
“Where Guilt shall dare extend her reign,
“And Satan stretch his dark domain,
“There let the tides of horror roll,
“And torture rend the sinking soul.”
The Godhead spoke,—Creation round,
Deep trembled to its utmost bound.
285
When the black deed of guilt is done,
Thou mak'st the quivering wretch turn pale,
And startle at the sun.
When Murder fearless of thy power,
Lifts up the fateful knife,
And in the dark and midnight hour,
Destroys the guiltless life;
High swells thy awful voice:
Awaking at the fearful sound,
The fiends of vengeance gather round;
The villain starts at every noise,
His soul, to judgment summon'd, shakes,
His frame convuls'd with horror, quakes;
'Till urg'd to fate by all-resistless fear,
He owns his crime, and dies the victim of despair.
When the quick tide of life swells high,
And Pleasure hourly wantons nigh,
The Sceptic braves thy stern command,
Nor dreads thy executing hand.
But when the powers of life decay,
And sickening nature wastes away,
When Age brings on a lengthening train
Of weakness, dire disease, and pain,
When Death uplifts its horrid form,
And Justice wakes the avenging storm;
Torn with distracting doubts and fears,
Thy terrors thunder in his ears;
Pale spectres haunt the shades of night,
Deep blushes meet the morning light,—
Above he sees the tempest lower,
And floods of wrath around him pour,—
Wide yawns beneath the world of woe,
Where waves of burning vengeance flow.
And Pleasure hourly wantons nigh,
The Sceptic braves thy stern command,
Nor dreads thy executing hand.
But when the powers of life decay,
And sickening nature wastes away,
When Age brings on a lengthening train
Of weakness, dire disease, and pain,
When Death uplifts its horrid form,
And Justice wakes the avenging storm;
Torn with distracting doubts and fears,
Thy terrors thunder in his ears;
Pale spectres haunt the shades of night,
Deep blushes meet the morning light,—
286
And floods of wrath around him pour,—
Wide yawns beneath the world of woe,
Where waves of burning vengeance flow.
Impell'd by conscious guilt he strives to fly,
Far from the light of God's all-searching eye,
And plunging headlong in the midnight shade,
Calls rocks and hills to shield his guilty head;
'Till robb'd of Hope,—life's latest stay,—Despair
Breathes the faint wishes of unutter'd prayer:
In dread suspence, his last sad refuge fled,
His schemes all frustrate, his delusions dead,
Heaven shut from view, annihilation vain,
He shrinks from life, and flies to endless pain.
Far from the light of God's all-searching eye,
And plunging headlong in the midnight shade,
Calls rocks and hills to shield his guilty head;
'Till robb'd of Hope,—life's latest stay,—Despair
Breathes the faint wishes of unutter'd prayer:
In dread suspence, his last sad refuge fled,
His schemes all frustrate, his delusions dead,
Heaven shut from view, annihilation vain,
He shrinks from life, and flies to endless pain.
Not such thy lot, O man
divine!
Peace on the bed of death was thine.
Calm with a retrospective view,
Thy mind look'd past existence thro;
In bright, and regular array,
And blazing on the face of day,
The deeds of virtue stood;
Conscience beheld them as they shone,
Approv'd and hail'd her darling son,
And God pronounc'd them good.
And when the messenger of death,
Receiv'd thy faint expiring breath,
Soft slumbering on the bed of peace,
Thy voice bade every sorrow cease,
While to the world's astonish'd eye,
Thou shew'd'st with what repose a virtuous man can die.
Peace on the bed of death was thine.
Calm with a retrospective view,
Thy mind look'd past existence thro;
In bright, and regular array,
And blazing on the face of day,
The deeds of virtue stood;
Conscience beheld them as they shone,
Approv'd and hail'd her darling son,
And God pronounc'd them good.
And when the messenger of death,
Receiv'd thy faint expiring breath,
Soft slumbering on the bed of peace,
Thy voice bade every sorrow cease,
287
Thou shew'd'st with what repose a virtuous man can die.
Hail Conscience! hail the good man's friend!
Thy smiles thro' life his steps attend;
And on his dread departing day,
Impart a sweet, and gladsome ray,
To cheer his soul, to sooth his dying breath,
To light his path-way thro' the vale of death,
And ope his prospect to awaiting Skies,
Where Faith looks forward with prophetic eyes,
And sees unmov'd the moon in blood expire,
The sun is darkness, and the earth on fire,
Stars, planets, systems, into ruin hurl'd,
And the last trumpet rend a guilty world.
Thy smiles thro' life his steps attend;
And on his dread departing day,
Impart a sweet, and gladsome ray,
To cheer his soul, to sooth his dying breath,
To light his path-way thro' the vale of death,
And ope his prospect to awaiting Skies,
Where Faith looks forward with prophetic eyes,
And sees unmov'd the moon in blood expire,
The sun is darkness, and the earth on fire,
Stars, planets, systems, into ruin hurl'd,
And the last trumpet rend a guilty world.
COLOLOO,—an Indian Tale,
Thrown into English Verse.
By William Dunlap.
Colwall! the Women crie;
Colwall! the dales resound,
Colwall, the hills reply,
And hollow caves rebound.
Colwall! the dales resound,
Colwall, the hills reply,
And hollow caves rebound.
Wild shrieks thro thickets ring,
Fast flies the dark-brown night:
“Come ye Warriors bring
The Captive ta'en in fight.
Fast flies the dark-brown night:
“Come ye Warriors bring
The Captive ta'en in fight.
288
Draw tight the cutting bands!
Bring matches blazing blue!
Now! now! the victim stands
To mighty Colwall due.”
Bring matches blazing blue!
Now! now! the victim stands
To mighty Colwall due.”
With scorn the Captive smil'd,
With scorn he ey'd the throng,
Then thus his pain beguil'd,
With high exulting song.
With scorn he ey'd the throng,
Then thus his pain beguil'd,
With high exulting song.
SONG.
And are these all the means ye know
To give a warrior pain?
Oh give your fires a fiercer glow;
Remember Colwall slain.
To give a warrior pain?
Oh give your fires a fiercer glow;
Remember Colwall slain.
My father gloried in his son.
My warriors came from fight,
None staid behind; the scalps we won
Declar'd our matchless might.
My warriors came from fight,
None staid behind; the scalps we won
Declar'd our matchless might.
Who has not heard Cololoo's fame?
My nation well ye know,—
And dreadful is the Tiger's name,
And fear'd by every foe.
My nation well ye know,—
And dreadful is the Tiger's name,
And fear'd by every foe.
Pain does not lie so near the skin,
More burning pine-knots bring!
Cololoo's all at peace within,—
And Logan's fame he'll sing.
More burning pine-knots bring!
Cololoo's all at peace within,—
And Logan's fame he'll sing.
RECITAL.
Then whilst from every limb the red streams gush,
And round him glows the fire;
Whilst thorns and nails transfix the quivering flesh,
The death song rises higher.—
And round him glows the fire;
Whilst thorns and nails transfix the quivering flesh,
The death song rises higher.—
289
Song.
Aged Logan led the fight,
Logan's fame is ever new,—
Logan seiz'd a treacherous White,
His murder'd Children rush to view:
Logan's fame is ever new,—
Logan seiz'd a treacherous White,
His murder'd Children rush to view:
“Curses blast thee! pale-fac'd Savage,
Ruin seize thy ruthless kind,
Train'd to rapine, skill'd to ravage,
Gain, the God that grasps thy mind.
Ruin seize thy ruthless kind,
Train'd to rapine, skill'd to ravage,
Gain, the God that grasps thy mind.
Now ye red men take your fill,
Give the scalping knife its due,
The red right arm is bare to kill,—
This my children, this to you.”
Give the scalping knife its due,
The red right arm is bare to kill,—
This my children, this to you.”
Reeking from the white man's brain,
Lo! he lifts the scalp on high;
“Logan does not wish thee pain,
Fly to death's dark caverns, fly!
Lo! he lifts the scalp on high;
“Logan does not wish thee pain,
Fly to death's dark caverns, fly!
See they come! they come to meet us!
Raise the yell that makes them quake,
Say,—shall puny white men beat us?
Men that every blast can shake?
Raise the yell that makes them quake,
Say,—shall puny white men beat us?
Men that every blast can shake?
Men that fear the rushing rain,
Men that fear the clouded sky,
Men that shrink and howl at pain,
Nor know to triumph when they die.
Men that fear the clouded sky,
Men that shrink and howl at pain,
Nor know to triumph when they die.
Now ye Tiger tribe be brave,
Think that Logan sees the fight;
Scalps on scalps adorn my cave,
Glad'ning to my children's sight.
Think that Logan sees the fight;
Scalps on scalps adorn my cave,
Glad'ning to my children's sight.
290
Sulph'rous smokes obscure the view,
War! the hills and dales reply.
Now ye red men, now be true!
Ye know to fight! ye dare to die!”
War! the hills and dales reply.
Now ye red men, now be true!
Ye know to fight! ye dare to die!”
Hand to hand the Warriors rush,
Shouts and yells in echos die;
Tom'hawks cleave, and bay'nets push,—
They fly! they fly! the white men fly!
Shouts and yells in echos die;
Tom'hawks cleave, and bay'nets push,—
They fly! they fly! the white men fly!
One brave band alone remains,
One alone of all that band,
Every shot and blow sustains,
Red like ours his heavy hand.
One alone of all that band,
Every shot and blow sustains,
Red like ours his heavy hand.
See they sink,—he's left alone,—
Still our Warriors stain the fields;
See! he falls, but fighting on
Sits, and still his sword he wields.
Still our Warriors stain the fields;
See! he falls, but fighting on
Sits, and still his sword he wields.
Logan seiz'd the brave man's arm,
Longing, look'd upon his face;
Logan will not do thee harm,
Tho' thou art of faithless race.
Longing, look'd upon his face;
Logan will not do thee harm,
Tho' thou art of faithless race.
Logan's sons had been like thee,—
White men shot them from the bush;
The brave shall not be harm'd by me,—
He's dead,—he's flown,—and all is hush.—
White men shot them from the bush;
The brave shall not be harm'd by me,—
He's dead,—he's flown,—and all is hush.—
None thy beauteous corse shall wound;
None thy hairy scalp shall tear;
Thou shalt sleep with warriors round,
Thou the dead-mens, feast shall share.
None thy hairy scalp shall tear;
Thou shalt sleep with warriors round,
Thou the dead-mens, feast shall share.
291
Seize the scalps, and count the slain;
White-men, weep your brothers' woes!
Ease our dying chiefs from pain:—
White-men learn to fear your foes!
White-men, weep your brothers' woes!
Ease our dying chiefs from pain:—
White-men learn to fear your foes!
So, Logan triumph'd o'er the foe;
Logan's fame was fairly won:
So, Logan laid the white-men low,—
—But set is Logan's sun.—
Logan's fame was fairly won:
So, Logan laid the white-men low,—
—But set is Logan's sun.—
Why bring ye not the heated stone
To sear and seam my manly breast?
Why sure the torture is not done!
Such pain Cololoo bears in jest.
To sear and seam my manly breast?
Why sure the torture is not done!
Such pain Cololoo bears in jest.
RECITAL.
Round his head Idiego hurl'd
His hatchet keen and good;
Whizzing, fierce the weapon whirl'd,
And quiver'd in the wood.
His hatchet keen and good;
Whizzing, fierce the weapon whirl'd,
And quiver'd in the wood.
Reldor then with sullen stride,
His knife was in his hand,
Advanc'd, and thus aloud he cried,—
And cut the twisted band.
His knife was in his hand,
Advanc'd, and thus aloud he cried,—
And cut the twisted band.
Reldor takes thee for his son,
Colwall in battle slain,
In many a fight his fame he won,
Nor shrunk from death or pain.—
Colwall in battle slain,
In many a fight his fame he won,
Nor shrunk from death or pain.—
Silent now the warrior train
Bear the blood-stain'd chief,—
No more they weep for Colwall slain,—
No more is known of grief.—
Bear the blood-stain'd chief,—
No more they weep for Colwall slain,—
No more is known of grief.—
292
ODE TO TIME.
Full oft the Painter's pencil, oft the Bard,
On canvas, or on Fancy's airy scene,
Hath shewn thee laughable, with grisly beard
Stiff-starting from a peaked chin;
A few white hairs thin-scatter'd round thy head,
Thine eyes turn'd grey with age;
Thy nose quite shrivell'd, like a pointed hook,
Thy visage bearing all a wrinkled wizard look:
Bent down and crooked was thy form,
And tottering on thy weak, lank legs,
Like some slim weed amid the shaking storm:
Thy blood, poor miserable dregs
Of life, crept thro' each wind-puff'd vein,
Which seem'd as tho' 'twould burst with ev'ry strain:
Thy long and dangling arms a scythe sustain,
To top off men as they cut down their grain:
Most laughable indeed! thus to deform
A Cod in power first, as first in form!
On canvas, or on Fancy's airy scene,
Hath shewn thee laughable, with grisly beard
Stiff-starting from a peaked chin;
A few white hairs thin-scatter'd round thy head,
Thine eyes turn'd grey with age;
Thy nose quite shrivell'd, like a pointed hook,
Thy visage bearing all a wrinkled wizard look:
Bent down and crooked was thy form,
And tottering on thy weak, lank legs,
Like some slim weed amid the shaking storm:
Thy blood, poor miserable dregs
Of life, crept thro' each wind-puff'd vein,
Which seem'd as tho' 'twould burst with ev'ry strain:
Thy long and dangling arms a scythe sustain,
To top off men as they cut down their grain:
Most laughable indeed! thus to deform
A Cod in power first, as first in form!
But look ye painters! hear ye bards this truth!
His face shall ever bloom unfading youth.
Bright golden locks adorn his head,
Majestick beauty seems his form:
Where'er he steps, his awful tread
Sounds like the thunder of the storm.
His face shall ever bloom unfading youth.
293
Majestick beauty seems his form:
Where'er he steps, his awful tread
Sounds like the thunder of the storm.
Imperial Rome! once mistress of the world!
Who rear'd her palaces, her towers on high,
Bade her tall obelisks assail the sky!
In ruin lies, by his strong arm of power hurl'd.
Some broken arch, or nodding tower,
Falls prone to earth each passing hour;
And oft the wary traveller hears the sound
Of some lofty column broke,
By Time's rudely shattering stroke,
When down it comes loud-crashing on the ground,
And hills and vales, the horrid roars rebound.
Who rear'd her palaces, her towers on high,
Bade her tall obelisks assail the sky!
In ruin lies, by his strong arm of power hurl'd.
Some broken arch, or nodding tower,
Falls prone to earth each passing hour;
And oft the wary traveller hears the sound
Of some lofty column broke,
By Time's rudely shattering stroke,
When down it comes loud-crashing on the ground,
And hills and vales, the horrid roars rebound.
Behold yon figure starting on the sight!
His awful brow around,
With palm and laurel bound;
His forceful eye with genius bright,
Seems now in Fancy's view to roll,
And speak the bloody Cæsar's warlike soul!
But Cæsar! thou art gone!
And Time shall bid thy statue follow soon.
His awful brow around,
With palm and laurel bound;
His forceful eye with genius bright,
Seems now in Fancy's view to roll,
And speak the bloody Cæsar's warlike soul!
But Cæsar! thou art gone!
And Time shall bid thy statue follow soon.
The spacious Forum where great Tully's voice,
A clear and swelling torrent pour'd along,
'Till the tumultuous faction check'd their murmuring noise,
And mute—with dumb attention hark—as to the song
Of Orpheus, did fierce Cerberus of old,
When he with music's tongue his tender story told;
Touch'd by Time's destructive, potent wand,
Lies in ruins mouldering on the land.
From Rome the Muse now turns her eagle-eye,
To where the sun burns in the western sky,
Where Niagara loud and strong,
His deep majestic torrent rolls along:
From many a noble stream and lake supplied
The rushing tide,
With rapid force, most awful roars;
While echo swells the solemn sound upon his solitary shores.
But lo! the boiling flood check'd by a rocky mound,
It madly foams, and whirling round,
In one stupendous sheet,
From the dizy awful height,
Fierce rushing, headlong thunders to the ground.
The trembling groves, and caves around,
For many a league the dreadful shout resound—
And while the bellowing flood midst craggy rocks below
Boils into foam, above the heaven-depicted bow
In rapture holds the wondering traveller's eye,
And all his senses thrill with heavenly extacy.
But hold my Muse! repress thy airy flight,
Nor give thy quick'ned soul to sweet delight;
For e'en those haughty rocks, that rear on high
Their shaggy heads, and rend the vaulted sky
With their loud-roaring sounds sublime,
Shall bow beneath the shattering hand of Time.
A clear and swelling torrent pour'd along,
'Till the tumultuous faction check'd their murmuring noise,
And mute—with dumb attention hark—as to the song
Of Orpheus, did fierce Cerberus of old,
When he with music's tongue his tender story told;
Touch'd by Time's destructive, potent wand,
Lies in ruins mouldering on the land.
294
To where the sun burns in the western sky,
Where Niagara loud and strong,
His deep majestic torrent rolls along:
From many a noble stream and lake supplied
The rushing tide,
With rapid force, most awful roars;
While echo swells the solemn sound upon his solitary shores.
But lo! the boiling flood check'd by a rocky mound,
It madly foams, and whirling round,
In one stupendous sheet,
From the dizy awful height,
Fierce rushing, headlong thunders to the ground.
The trembling groves, and caves around,
For many a league the dreadful shout resound—
And while the bellowing flood midst craggy rocks below
Boils into foam, above the heaven-depicted bow
In rapture holds the wondering traveller's eye,
And all his senses thrill with heavenly extacy.
But hold my Muse! repress thy airy flight,
Nor give thy quick'ned soul to sweet delight;
For e'en those haughty rocks, that rear on high
Their shaggy heads, and rend the vaulted sky
With their loud-roaring sounds sublime,
Shall bow beneath the shattering hand of Time.
Yet waft away! oh! dissipate thy fears,
For now thro' the deep gloom of future years,
A beauteous scene beneath the western skies,
Resplendent bursts upon my ravish'd eyes.
Where thro' uncultur'd wilds Ohio rolls,
And hears the rav'nous wolf's terrific howls;
Or sees upon his shores at midnight hour,
The cruel savage exercise his power;
Sees him with a demoniack's joy elate,
Commit the hapless victim to his fate,
And while with grinning rage, the blazing wood
He quenches in the Prisoner's hissing blood,
Hears the shrill shrieks that pierce the distant air,
And freeze the heart of pity with despair:
There Time's command shall bid those horrors cease,
And wild Ohio smile with scenes of peace.
Where beasts of prey prowl o'er the desert ground,
Some future youths shall listen to the sound
Of wisdom, flowing from the Sage's tongue,
In tones attractive as the voice of song.
Then shall fair temples, villas, cities rise,
To beam new splendor on the natives' eyes;
The heaven-taught Painter, Sculptor, and the Bard
Shall there in future ages seek reward;
The voice of music warble thro' the air,
And all the glorious arts of peace appear.
For now thro' the deep gloom of future years,
A beauteous scene beneath the western skies,
Resplendent bursts upon my ravish'd eyes.
Where thro' uncultur'd wilds Ohio rolls,
And hears the rav'nous wolf's terrific howls;
295
The cruel savage exercise his power;
Sees him with a demoniack's joy elate,
Commit the hapless victim to his fate,
And while with grinning rage, the blazing wood
He quenches in the Prisoner's hissing blood,
Hears the shrill shrieks that pierce the distant air,
And freeze the heart of pity with despair:
There Time's command shall bid those horrors cease,
And wild Ohio smile with scenes of peace.
Where beasts of prey prowl o'er the desert ground,
Some future youths shall listen to the sound
Of wisdom, flowing from the Sage's tongue,
In tones attractive as the voice of song.
Then shall fair temples, villas, cities rise,
To beam new splendor on the natives' eyes;
The heaven-taught Painter, Sculptor, and the Bard
Shall there in future ages seek reward;
The voice of music warble thro' the air,
And all the glorious arts of peace appear.
But now again, the Muse prophetic, sighs,
While scenes of future desolation rise.
She sees her City, fair Columbia's pride,
A heap of ruins spreading far and wide:
She sees her streets once beauteous to behold,
Partition'd off, the shepherd flocks to fold;
The crumbling bricks, and separated stone,
By pale-green moss, and scattering fern o'ergrown.
The wiley fox from broken arches peeps,
Thro' the deserted dome the weasle creeps,
The owl sits whooping on the temple door,
While hops the squalid toad along the floor;
The hissings of the deadly snake she hears,
The warning rattle, trembles in her ears.
Begone delusive fancy! may thy wand
No more deform the beauty of our land!
Be unprophetic all thy gloomy views,
The airy offspring of the weeping Muse—
But all too true alas! thy words may prove,
When Time's destructive power shall o'er their beauties move!
While scenes of future desolation rise.
She sees her City, fair Columbia's pride,
A heap of ruins spreading far and wide:
She sees her streets once beauteous to behold,
Partition'd off, the shepherd flocks to fold;
The crumbling bricks, and separated stone,
By pale-green moss, and scattering fern o'ergrown.
The wiley fox from broken arches peeps,
Thro' the deserted dome the weasle creeps,
The owl sits whooping on the temple door,
While hops the squalid toad along the floor;
296
The warning rattle, trembles in her ears.
Begone delusive fancy! may thy wand
No more deform the beauty of our land!
Be unprophetic all thy gloomy views,
The airy offspring of the weeping Muse—
But all too true alas! thy words may prove,
When Time's destructive power shall o'er their beauties move!
Ere thrice ten times the God of day,
Has drove his flaming, annual Car,
Adown the rosy west;
My slender frame of clay,
With Time and fierce disease at war
May moulder into dust:
These grief-strung nerves of mine may cease to move
In sad vibrations to the voice of Love;
With many a hapless Bard whose tender breast
Now knows no more the goading thrust
Of pride, or penury his nerves of feeling tear.
But hold! ah hold thy lifted hand!
Nor lowly bow,
Beneath thy awful blow
The Father of Columbia's favor'd land:
Oh spare! the glorious Patriot spare!
Nor give the stroke of fate,
Until his equal shall appear
To fill with equal dignity the lofty chair of state.
Has drove his flaming, annual Car,
Adown the rosy west;
My slender frame of clay,
With Time and fierce disease at war
May moulder into dust:
These grief-strung nerves of mine may cease to move
In sad vibrations to the voice of Love;
With many a hapless Bard whose tender breast
Now knows no more the goading thrust
Of pride, or penury his nerves of feeling tear.
But hold! ah hold thy lifted hand!
Nor lowly bow,
Beneath thy awful blow
The Father of Columbia's favor'd land:
Oh spare! the glorious Patriot spare!
Nor give the stroke of fate,
Until his equal shall appear
To fill with equal dignity the lofty chair of state.
Birtha.
Philadelphia, July 1791.
This Poem was originally published, in an imperfect state, in No. 20 of the 3d volume of the Gazette of the United States, for July 6th, 1791, with its present signature. The great alterations which it has since undergone, and the many important additions now made to it, form a sufficient excuse for the conduct of the Editors in placing it among the Original Poems.
297
AN ODE,
Addressed to Miss ****.
By the late Rev. Joseph Howe, of Boston.
Never did parting Youth feel more
Than I, fair Maid, when from the shore
Thy vessel sail'd away;
And can not then my prayers prevail.
Nor love, nor vows, nor tears, avail,
Nor aught procure thy stay?
Than I, fair Maid, when from the shore
Thy vessel sail'd away;
And can not then my prayers prevail.
Nor love, nor vows, nor tears, avail,
Nor aught procure thy stay?
Was it for this that I so long
Listen'd, to Fortune's syren song
Listen'd with rapturous joy?
Did she, for this, inspire my heart,
With hopes that we should never part,
And thus these hopes destroy?
Listen'd, to Fortune's syren song
Listen'd with rapturous joy?
Did she, for this, inspire my heart,
With hopes that we should never part,
And thus these hopes destroy?
Amid the much-admiring crowd,
While thus I sigh'd my griefs aloud,
I scarce refrain'd to speak;
Shame held my tongue, while from my eye
The pearly drops, full plenteously,
Stole trickling down my cheek.
While thus I sigh'd my griefs aloud,
I scarce refrain'd to speak;
Shame held my tongue, while from my eye
The pearly drops, full plenteously,
Stole trickling down my cheek.
Thus, near fair Tibur's silver flood,
The Roman Bard, gay Horace, stood,
And saw Galatea sail;
And thrice he warn'd her, o'er, and o'er,
And told the fates Europa bore,
In hopes he might avail.
The Roman Bard, gay Horace, stood,
And saw Galatea sail;
And thrice he warn'd her, o'er, and o'er,
And told the fates Europa bore,
In hopes he might avail.
298
In hopes he might avail to move
The fixed purpose of his love,
From such a dangerous choice.
But all in vain, like me, he tried,
Galatea still did firm abide,
Deaf to his moving voice.
The fixed purpose of his love,
From such a dangerous choice.
But all in vain, like me, he tried,
Galatea still did firm abide,
Deaf to his moving voice.
“Then go, if naught,” the Bard rejoin'd,—
“Can move the purpose of thy mind,
“Go, and may blessings follow thee;
“Let every gentle gale attend,
“Let every wave thy voyage befriend,
“But think, ah think! of me.”
“Can move the purpose of thy mind,
“Go, and may blessings follow thee;
“Let every gentle gale attend,
“Let every wave thy voyage befriend,
“But think, ah think! of me.”
Nor less to heaven did I prefer,
For thy dear sake, my pious prayer.
O winds, O waves, agree!
Winds gently blow, waves softly flow,
Ship move with care, for thou dost bear
The better part of me.
For thy dear sake, my pious prayer.
O winds, O waves, agree!
Winds gently blow, waves softly flow,
Ship move with care, for thou dost bear
The better part of me.
And think, and think, I also said—
On all the vows which we have made,
On all those charming scenes,
Which once, with glee, we pass'd away,
Pleased in each other, night and day,
Nor envied kings and queens.
On all the vows which we have made,
On all those charming scenes,
Which once, with glee, we pass'd away,
Pleased in each other, night and day,
Nor envied kings and queens.
299
MESSAGE OF MORDECAI TO ESTHER.
From a Manuscript Poem.
By Timothy Dwight, D. D.
BOOK II,—THE CONCLUSION.
Thou know'st, O Esther! from thy infant years,
To rear thy form, to nurse thy opening mind,
To teach thee every virtue, every truth,
To form thee finish'd, lovely, great, and wise,
Was all my care supreme. Friendless, alone,
An orphan scarcely budded, well thou know'st
I found thee; as a darling flower (the rose,
That blooms in Sharon, or at Hermon's foot
The lilly of the vale) from midst the wild,
With every care remov'd thee to my field,
And saw thee rise, and bloom, and send abroad
A fragrance, richer than the Arabian gale.
Why all adorn'd with beauty's living bloom,
In form as some young Virtue of the skies,
Of tincture died in health's immortal stream,
Of eye resplendent, as the morning sun
Looks thro' the cloud's fair opening, and of grace,
Where heaven was pleas'd to move in mortal guise;
Why form'd with soul, superior to thy kind,
With thoughts expanding thro' the world's wide round,
And pinion'd to the skies; with hardy mind,
Patient and daring, as the hero stands
Upon the deadly and fierce flaming breach,
Serene while Death walks onward; yet more soft
Than the pleas'd infant smiles the savage dumb;
Why all accomplish'd, and why angel all,
I ponder'd long, and now from Heaven I learn.
This mighty hour the Eye Omniscient mark'd,
While fair, beneath his forming hand, uprose
Thy varied excellence. For this Heaven gave
Thy virtue, gift supreme, that virtue crown'd
With wisdom's power; that wisdoms cloth'd divine
With beauty's angel form, that form around
Diffus'd the light of Heaven; and all adorn'd
With grace and sweetness, dignity and love.
On that proud day, when, from an hundred realms
Summon'd, came many a lord, and chief, and king,
Magnificent, to grace the monarch's feast,
And all the pomp of Persia round him spread;
When Vashti's insolence, beyond all thought,
Her presence to the illustrious train refus'd;
When, taught by Memucan he wisely bade
The haughty fair one wear the crown no more;
Even then a field I saw, by Heaven outspread,
To give thy virtue scope, and rich reward.
Pondering, I brought thee to the eunuchs' Prince;
Amaz'd, amid all Persia's beauteous maids,
Thee, thee alone he gaz'd. Convinc'd, I knew
The crown reserv'd for thee. With no surprise,
I saw thee lifted to the world's great throne:
'Twas thus the Skies decreed. But, O bless'd fair!
Not for thyself the Heavens thy beauty gave,
Thy grace, thy wisdom; nor, for thee alone,
Did Mordecai uprear thy precious bloom.
Heaven's gifts are virtue's aids; for virtue us'd,
Are us'd aright; or else are given in vain.
On thy great power to bless, all Israel builds
A solemn claim. A voice, as thunder loud,
Awful, majestic, from thy nation sounds,
And bids thee rise to save. Their cause thou know'st
The cause of heaven. In them religion lives;
From them Messiah springs, by whose bless'd hand
All nations good, and life, and glory gain.
The world's great happiness on them suspends.
Creation's end, and Providence' great scope.
Go then, thy nation save. Should every ill,
Even death, betide; yet what is life, or death,
When Israel calls, when God demands our life.
And know, O fair! if thou thy voice withhold,
Yet to the ruling Heavens, whose piercing eye
All mortal things surveys, ten thousand paths,
From danger's deepest caves, lead up to day:
Paths, tho' by man unseen, yet strait, and plain,
To God's all-piercing view. Thro Death's dark vale,
Such paths shall Israel guide to life and peace.
Then from the skies indignant, while thy race
To peace and joy ascend, thy fairest day
Of duty, glory, lost, thy soul shall feel
The piercing anguish of a wounded heart,
And waste with keen remorse, and sad despair.
To rear thy form, to nurse thy opening mind,
To teach thee every virtue, every truth,
To form thee finish'd, lovely, great, and wise,
Was all my care supreme. Friendless, alone,
An orphan scarcely budded, well thou know'st
I found thee; as a darling flower (the rose,
That blooms in Sharon, or at Hermon's foot
The lilly of the vale) from midst the wild,
With every care remov'd thee to my field,
And saw thee rise, and bloom, and send abroad
A fragrance, richer than the Arabian gale.
Why all adorn'd with beauty's living bloom,
In form as some young Virtue of the skies,
Of tincture died in health's immortal stream,
Of eye resplendent, as the morning sun
Looks thro' the cloud's fair opening, and of grace,
Where heaven was pleas'd to move in mortal guise;
Why form'd with soul, superior to thy kind,
With thoughts expanding thro' the world's wide round,
And pinion'd to the skies; with hardy mind,
Patient and daring, as the hero stands
Upon the deadly and fierce flaming breach,
Serene while Death walks onward; yet more soft
300
Why all accomplish'd, and why angel all,
I ponder'd long, and now from Heaven I learn.
This mighty hour the Eye Omniscient mark'd,
While fair, beneath his forming hand, uprose
Thy varied excellence. For this Heaven gave
Thy virtue, gift supreme, that virtue crown'd
With wisdom's power; that wisdoms cloth'd divine
With beauty's angel form, that form around
Diffus'd the light of Heaven; and all adorn'd
With grace and sweetness, dignity and love.
On that proud day, when, from an hundred realms
Summon'd, came many a lord, and chief, and king,
Magnificent, to grace the monarch's feast,
And all the pomp of Persia round him spread;
When Vashti's insolence, beyond all thought,
Her presence to the illustrious train refus'd;
When, taught by Memucan he wisely bade
The haughty fair one wear the crown no more;
Even then a field I saw, by Heaven outspread,
To give thy virtue scope, and rich reward.
Pondering, I brought thee to the eunuchs' Prince;
Amaz'd, amid all Persia's beauteous maids,
Thee, thee alone he gaz'd. Convinc'd, I knew
The crown reserv'd for thee. With no surprise,
I saw thee lifted to the world's great throne:
'Twas thus the Skies decreed. But, O bless'd fair!
Not for thyself the Heavens thy beauty gave,
Thy grace, thy wisdom; nor, for thee alone,
Did Mordecai uprear thy precious bloom.
Heaven's gifts are virtue's aids; for virtue us'd,
Are us'd aright; or else are given in vain.
301
A solemn claim. A voice, as thunder loud,
Awful, majestic, from thy nation sounds,
And bids thee rise to save. Their cause thou know'st
The cause of heaven. In them religion lives;
From them Messiah springs, by whose bless'd hand
All nations good, and life, and glory gain.
The world's great happiness on them suspends.
Creation's end, and Providence' great scope.
Go then, thy nation save. Should every ill,
Even death, betide; yet what is life, or death,
When Israel calls, when God demands our life.
And know, O fair! if thou thy voice withhold,
Yet to the ruling Heavens, whose piercing eye
All mortal things surveys, ten thousand paths,
From danger's deepest caves, lead up to day:
Paths, tho' by man unseen, yet strait, and plain,
To God's all-piercing view. Thro Death's dark vale,
Such paths shall Israel guide to life and peace.
Then from the skies indignant, while thy race
To peace and joy ascend, thy fairest day
Of duty, glory, lost, thy soul shall feel
The piercing anguish of a wounded heart,
And waste with keen remorse, and sad despair.
Thus wrote the feeling Prince. Awhile, in deep
And solemn contemplation sat the fair,
Pondering the forceful message. Rouz'd at length
From off the sofa, all that softly sweet,
Angelic smile her face forsook; her eye,
Kindling with sacred fire, shot forth a ray
Of sunbright glory; high her bosom rose;
Her pulse beat high, and loftily she walk'd
The spacious room. Surpriz'd, her virgins stood,
While thus her faithful Hatach she address'd.
Go tell illustrious Mordecai, my soul
Is warm'd to this great deed. His daughter's heart
Shuns not for Israel, or for Heaven, to die.
Undone by me, no duty shall demand
Another's bosom; lost by me, no hour
Of real glory shall another crown
With fame, and life divine. Let Israel's race,
Thro' Shushan's walls, with prayers, and tears, and fasts,
Implore the Skies; and tho no bright'ning hope
Presents the king complacent; yet, to morrow,
My feet shall tempt the court of gloomy danger,
And if my life's exacted, let me die.
And solemn contemplation sat the fair,
Pondering the forceful message. Rouz'd at length
From off the sofa, all that softly sweet,
Angelic smile her face forsook; her eye,
Kindling with sacred fire, shot forth a ray
Of sunbright glory; high her bosom rose;
302
The spacious room. Surpriz'd, her virgins stood,
While thus her faithful Hatach she address'd.
Go tell illustrious Mordecai, my soul
Is warm'd to this great deed. His daughter's heart
Shuns not for Israel, or for Heaven, to die.
Undone by me, no duty shall demand
Another's bosom; lost by me, no hour
Of real glory shall another crown
With fame, and life divine. Let Israel's race,
Thro' Shushan's walls, with prayers, and tears, and fasts,
Implore the Skies; and tho no bright'ning hope
Presents the king complacent; yet, to morrow,
My feet shall tempt the court of gloomy danger,
And if my life's exacted, let me die.
End of book II.
Book III.—(The Beginning.)
From midst a shining cloud, whose borders fairA golden light upturn'd, look'd forth the sun.
As clear, as bright, uprose the Persian Queen,
In all the pride of beauty. Rob'd in pomp
Of Asian splendor, forth she slowly mov'd,
Attended by a royal train, that gave
New glory to the Fair. Strait to the throne
303
Before her open'd wide the ivory gates,
On golden hinges turning; where, in purple
And gems, and gold, attir'd, with pomp supreme,
With port august, and aspect sternly dread,
She saw the Monarch thron'd. Full on his eye
She dawn'd in all her beauty, rob'd in white
With silver intertwin'd, and flowers of gold.
Around her diadem, mid rows of pearls,
Twinkled unnumber'd stars. Two cupids fair
Beside her walk'd in blooming innocence;
And two her train supported. From their hands,
Flowers fell, and fragrance, that the palace wide
Breath'd living odours. Soft and sweet the air.
The lovely Queen assum'd; her large, black eyes,
Mildly refulgent, shone, two morning stars;
While o'er her cheek, with lambent beauty, play'd
Colours, which neither flowers, nor gems, nor clouds,
Nor rainbows ever shed. Full on the King
She cast a sweet, and soul-explaining smile
Of soft complacence; such as angels show,
To greet their fellows, when, from errand high
Return'd, they meet the sovereign euge bless'd.
The Monarch gaz'd; and, tho' his heart was fix'd
In all the sternness of Asiatic state;
Yet in the beams of beauty, soul inspir'd,
His softening bosom melted. Fairer far
He view'd her, than when brought to bless his arms
With virgin innocence. As in calm skies,
'Twixt two fair planets, walks in pride divine
The ascending Moon, o'er all the the immense of heaven
304
Softening the world to silence. With mild eye,
She looks her empire round, and sees the stars
With joy before her hide their little lamps,
And plains, and groves, and mountains in the beam,
Shadowy, ascend and brighten. Fair she smiles,
And triumphs in her beauty; while the bard
Eyes the bright queen, and wakes a thousand dreams,
And thinks her empress of the realms above
So rose in all her bloom the wondrous Fair,
And so the Monarch gaz'd. Spontaneous mov'd
His arm unbidden, and to greet the Queen,
Reach'd forth the golden sceptre. As the Fair,
Advancing, touch'd its starry point, he cried,
O Queen, what wishes in thy bosom rise?
What prayer begins thy voice? Even to the half
Of Persia's vast domain, that prayer is giv'n.—
| American poems, selected and original | |