Poems and miscellanies selected from the writings of Miss Eliza Townsend Printed but not published |
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STANZAS. |
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 | Poems and miscellanies selected from the writings of Miss Eliza Townsend |  |
64
STANZAS.
[_]
The writer of the following stanzas was importuned by a friend, some time since, to supply the deficiencies of the “Ode on the Passions.” It was replied that such an undertaking would resemble the attempt of a journeyman carpenter to finish a statue of Praxiteles. The request, however, being renewed, was so far effectual as to elicit this fragment; not as a presumptuous endeavor to add anything to Collins's Ode, but as an humble distant effort, to imitate the character of that celebrated production.
[1810.]
Behold yon monstrous shape appear!
The Gorgon head, the Danaides' heart;
Their stings the curling serpents rear,
While e'en Ambition owns a fear,
And Hope and Joy depart.
'T was Envy dared the bower invade,
And round with curious eye surveyed,
To where the Lesbian lyre was laid,
Buried beneath its myrtle shade;
That lyre, whose strains so sweet, so strong,
To Sappho's touch alone belong;
That lyre, whose strains so strong, so sweet,
No voice but Echo's dared repeat.
Yet this weird wretch presumed to strive
The lyric spirit to revive!
And emulate those sounds that stole
O'er poor Alcæus' subject soul!
The Gorgon head, the Danaides' heart;
Their stings the curling serpents rear,
While e'en Ambition owns a fear,
And Hope and Joy depart.
'T was Envy dared the bower invade,
And round with curious eye surveyed,
To where the Lesbian lyre was laid,
Buried beneath its myrtle shade;
That lyre, whose strains so sweet, so strong,
To Sappho's touch alone belong;
65
No voice but Echo's dared repeat.
Yet this weird wretch presumed to strive
The lyric spirit to revive!
And emulate those sounds that stole
O'er poor Alcæus' subject soul!
Remorse approached; his wasted frame
Feebly on trembling knees he bore;
Alike in sorrow and in shame,
Timoleon's form he wore,
(What time, from Corinth forced to roam,
He wandered far from friends and home;)
With gory hands he struck the lyre.
The lyre, indignant at the wrong,
Scorned to pour the soothing song;
And harshly groaned each clotted wire,
Now first by murd'rous hand profaned,
Now first by human blood distained.
Back sprang the wretch, and called Despair
To end the strange and “solemn air;”
While still within its banquet flies
The gnawing worm that never dies!
The next that came
With sinewy arm of fight,
And ardent, eagle-sight,
Ambition was his name
Amid the band,
With lawless hand,
He dared aspire
To seize famed Memnon's mystic lyre,
And struck those hallowed chords of fire,
Long sacred to the Sun!
But when the impious deed was done,
I saw, what seemed of mortal state,
To sudden majesty dilate;
I saw him stretch his giant form
In shadowy length athwart the sky;
His rocky forehead clothed in storm,
Bloodshot his dark delirious eye.
While, at his tocsin's furious sound,
Loosened demons danced around;
Joying 'mid the groans profound,
Of Virtues, slaughtered on the accursed ground!
Feebly on trembling knees he bore;
Alike in sorrow and in shame,
Timoleon's form he wore,
(What time, from Corinth forced to roam,
He wandered far from friends and home;)
With gory hands he struck the lyre.
The lyre, indignant at the wrong,
Scorned to pour the soothing song;
And harshly groaned each clotted wire,
Now first by murd'rous hand profaned,
Now first by human blood distained.
Back sprang the wretch, and called Despair
To end the strange and “solemn air;”
While still within its banquet flies
The gnawing worm that never dies!
66
With sinewy arm of fight,
And ardent, eagle-sight,
Ambition was his name
Amid the band,
With lawless hand,
He dared aspire
To seize famed Memnon's mystic lyre,
And struck those hallowed chords of fire,
Long sacred to the Sun!
But when the impious deed was done,
I saw, what seemed of mortal state,
To sudden majesty dilate;
I saw him stretch his giant form
In shadowy length athwart the sky;
His rocky forehead clothed in storm,
Bloodshot his dark delirious eye.
While, at his tocsin's furious sound,
Loosened demons danced around;
Joying 'mid the groans profound,
Of Virtues, slaughtered on the accursed ground!
| Poems and miscellanies selected from the writings of Miss Eliza Townsend | |