 | The Peacock at Home; and Other Poems |  |
1
THE PEACOCK AT HOME.
3
When the Butterfly burst from her chrysalis state,
And gave to the Insects a Ball and a Fête;
When the Grasshopper's minstrelsy charm'd every ear,
And delighted the guests with his mirth and good cheer;
The fame spread abroad of their revels and feasts,
And excited the spleen of the birds and the beasts;
For the gilded-wing'd Dragon-Fly made it his theme,
And the Gnat blew his horn as he danc'd in the beam;
The Gossip whose chirping beguil'd the long night,
By the cottage fireside told the tale of delight;
While, suspending his labours, the Bee left his cell,
To murmur applause in each blossom and bell:
It was humm'd by the Beetle, and buzz'd by the Fly,
And sung by the myriads that sport thro' the sky.
The quadrupeds listen'd in sullen displeasure;
But the tenants of air were enrag'd beyond measure.
The Peacock resplendent, unfurl'd his broad fan,
And addressing his mates, thus indignant began:
“Ye people of plume! whether dwellers in woods,
Whether wading thro' marshes, or diving in floods,
Will you suffer the Insects, the birth of a day,
To be talk'd of as all that is tasteful and gay?
And shall we like domestic, inelegant fowls,
Unpolish'd as Geese, and more stupid than Owls,
Sit tamely at home tête-à-tête with our spouses,
While the offspring of grub-worms throw open their houses?
Forbid it, ye powers, o'er our Class who preside,
And help me to humble the Butterfly's pride!
It provokes me to see such pretenders to fashion,
Cousin Turkey-Cock, well may you quiver with passion!
When such pitiful beings affect to compare
With us! the legitimate children of air!
Some bird of high rank should his talents exert
In the general cause, and our honour assert.
But the Eagle, while soaring thro' Ether on high,
Overlooks what is passing in our nether sky;
The Swan calmly sails down the current of life,
Without ruffling a plume in the national strife;
And the Ostrich—for birds who on iron are wont
Their breakfast to make, can digest an affront.
But, if ever I suffer such airs to prevail,
May Juno pluck out all the eyes in my tail!
To revenge our disgrace, I'll for once lead the way,
And send out my cards for St. Valentine's Day,
Round my standard to rally each order and genus,
From the Eagle of Jove to the Sparrow of Venus.”
And gave to the Insects a Ball and a Fête;
When the Grasshopper's minstrelsy charm'd every ear,
And delighted the guests with his mirth and good cheer;
4
And excited the spleen of the birds and the beasts;
For the gilded-wing'd Dragon-Fly made it his theme,
And the Gnat blew his horn as he danc'd in the beam;
The Gossip whose chirping beguil'd the long night,
By the cottage fireside told the tale of delight;
While, suspending his labours, the Bee left his cell,
To murmur applause in each blossom and bell:
It was humm'd by the Beetle, and buzz'd by the Fly,
And sung by the myriads that sport thro' the sky.
The quadrupeds listen'd in sullen displeasure;
But the tenants of air were enrag'd beyond measure.
5
And addressing his mates, thus indignant began:
“Ye people of plume! whether dwellers in woods,
Whether wading thro' marshes, or diving in floods,
Will you suffer the Insects, the birth of a day,
To be talk'd of as all that is tasteful and gay?
And shall we like domestic, inelegant fowls,
Unpolish'd as Geese, and more stupid than Owls,
Sit tamely at home tête-à-tête with our spouses,
While the offspring of grub-worms throw open their houses?
Forbid it, ye powers, o'er our Class who preside,
And help me to humble the Butterfly's pride!
It provokes me to see such pretenders to fashion,
Cousin Turkey-Cock, well may you quiver with passion!
6
With us! the legitimate children of air!
Some bird of high rank should his talents exert
In the general cause, and our honour assert.
But the Eagle, while soaring thro' Ether on high,
Overlooks what is passing in our nether sky;
The Swan calmly sails down the current of life,
Without ruffling a plume in the national strife;
And the Ostrich—for birds who on iron are wont
Their breakfast to make, can digest an affront.
But, if ever I suffer such airs to prevail,
May Juno pluck out all the eyes in my tail!
To revenge our disgrace, I'll for once lead the way,
And send out my cards for St. Valentine's Day,
Round my standard to rally each order and genus,
From the Eagle of Jove to the Sparrow of Venus.”
7
This determin'd, six fleet Carrier-Pigeons went out,
To invite all the Birds to Sir Argus's rout.
To invite all the Birds to Sir Argus's rout.
The nest-loving Turtle-Dove, simple recluse,
Pleaded family-duties, and sent an excuse;
With matron importance Dame Partlet alledg'd,
That her numerous progeny scarcely were fledg'd;
The Turkey, poor soul! was confin'd to the rip,
For all her young brood had just fail'd with the pip.
The Partridge was ask'd; but a neighbour hard by,
Had engag'd a snug party to meet in a pye;
And the Wheatear declin'd—recollecting, her cousins
Last year to a feast were invited by dozens;
But, alas! they return'd not:—and she had no taste
To appear in a costume of vine-leaves or paste.
The Woodcock preferr'd his lone haunt on the moor;
And the traveller Swallow was still on his tour;
While the Cuckoo, who should have been one of the guests,
Was rambling on visits to other birds' nests:
But the rest all accepted the kind invitation,
And much bustle prevail'd in the Plumed Creation.
Such ruffling of feathers, such pruning of coats,
Such chirping, such whistling, such clearing of throats,
Such polishing bills, and such oiling of pinions,
Had never been known in the biped dominions!
The Taylor-Bird offer'd to make up new cloaths,
For all the young birdlings who wish'd to be beaux;
He made for the Robin a doublet of red,
And a new velvet cap for the Goldfinch's head.
He added a plume to the Wren's golden crest,
And spangled with silver the Guinea-fowl's breast.
While the Halcyon bent over the streamlet to view,
How pretty she look'd, in her boddice of blue.
Pleaded family-duties, and sent an excuse;
With matron importance Dame Partlet alledg'd,
That her numerous progeny scarcely were fledg'd;
The Turkey, poor soul! was confin'd to the rip,
For all her young brood had just fail'd with the pip.
The Partridge was ask'd; but a neighbour hard by,
Had engag'd a snug party to meet in a pye;
And the Wheatear declin'd—recollecting, her cousins
Last year to a feast were invited by dozens;
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To appear in a costume of vine-leaves or paste.
The Woodcock preferr'd his lone haunt on the moor;
And the traveller Swallow was still on his tour;
While the Cuckoo, who should have been one of the guests,
Was rambling on visits to other birds' nests:
But the rest all accepted the kind invitation,
And much bustle prevail'd in the Plumed Creation.
Such ruffling of feathers, such pruning of coats,
Such chirping, such whistling, such clearing of throats,
Such polishing bills, and such oiling of pinions,
Had never been known in the biped dominions!
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For all the young birdlings who wish'd to be beaux;
He made for the Robin a doublet of red,
And a new velvet cap for the Goldfinch's head.
He added a plume to the Wren's golden crest,
And spangled with silver the Guinea-fowl's breast.
While the Halcyon bent over the streamlet to view,
How pretty she look'd, in her boddice of blue.
Thus equipp'd, they set off for the Peacock's abode,
With the guide Indicator, who shew'd them the road.
From all points of the compass flock'd birds of all feather,
And the Parrot can tell who and who were together.
There was Lord Cassowary, and General Flamingo,
And Don Peroquito, escap'd from Domingo.
From his high rock-built eyrie the Eagle came forth,
And the Dutchess of Ptarmigan flew from the North:
The Grebe and the Eider-Duck came up by water,
With the Swan, who brought out the young Cygnet, her daughter:
From his woodland abode came the Pheasant, to meet
Two kindred arriv'd by the last India fleet;
The one like a Nabob, in habit most splendid,
Where gold, with each hue of the rainbow, was blended;
In silver and black, like a fair pensive maid
Who mourns for her love, was the other array'd.
The Chough came from Cornwall, and brought up his wife;
The Grouse travell'd South from his lairdship in Fife;
The Bunting forsook her soft nest in the reeds,
And the Widow-bird came, tho' she still wore her weeds.
A veteran Decoy-Duck, whose falsehoods and wiles
Had ensnar'd all the youth of the fens in her toils,
Swam in, full of hope some new conquest to make,
Tho' captives unnumber'd sail'd close in her wake.
Next enter'd a party of Puffins and Smews,
And the Dodo—who chapron'd the two Miss Cushews;
Sir John Heron, of the Lakes, strutted in a grand pas:
But no card had been sent to the pilfering Daw,—
As the Peacock kept up his progenitor's quarrel,
Which Æsop relates, about cast-off apparel:
For birds are like men in their contests together,
And in questions of right can dispute for a feather.
With the guide Indicator, who shew'd them the road.
From all points of the compass flock'd birds of all feather,
And the Parrot can tell who and who were together.
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And Don Peroquito, escap'd from Domingo.
From his high rock-built eyrie the Eagle came forth,
And the Dutchess of Ptarmigan flew from the North:
The Grebe and the Eider-Duck came up by water,
With the Swan, who brought out the young Cygnet, her daughter:
From his woodland abode came the Pheasant, to meet
Two kindred arriv'd by the last India fleet;
The one like a Nabob, in habit most splendid,
Where gold, with each hue of the rainbow, was blended;
11
Who mourns for her love, was the other array'd.
The Chough came from Cornwall, and brought up his wife;
The Grouse travell'd South from his lairdship in Fife;
The Bunting forsook her soft nest in the reeds,
And the Widow-bird came, tho' she still wore her weeds.
A veteran Decoy-Duck, whose falsehoods and wiles
Had ensnar'd all the youth of the fens in her toils,
Swam in, full of hope some new conquest to make,
Tho' captives unnumber'd sail'd close in her wake.
Next enter'd a party of Puffins and Smews,
And the Dodo—who chapron'd the two Miss Cushews;
12
But no card had been sent to the pilfering Daw,—
As the Peacock kept up his progenitor's quarrel,
Which Æsop relates, about cast-off apparel:
For birds are like men in their contests together,
And in questions of right can dispute for a feather.
The Peacock Imperial, the pride of his race,
Receiv'd all his guests with an infinite grace;
Wav'd high his blue neck, and his train he display'd,
Embroider'd with gold, and with sapphires inlaid;
Then led to a bow'r, where the musical throng,
Amateurs and professors, were all in full song:
A holly-bush form'd the orchestra, and in it
Sat the Blackbird, the Thrush, the Lark, and the Linnet.
The Bullfinch, a captive almost from the nest,
Just escap'd from his cage, and, with liberty blest,
In a sweet mellow tone join'd the lessons of art,
With the accents of nature which flow'd from his heart.
The Canary, a much-admir'd foreign musician,
Condescended to sing to the fowls of condition:
While the Nightingale warbled and quaver'd so fine,
That they all clapp'd their wings and pronounc'd it divine.
The Sky-Lark, in extacy, sang from a cloud;
And Chanticleer crow'd, and the Yaffil laugh'd loud.
Receiv'd all his guests with an infinite grace;
Wav'd high his blue neck, and his train he display'd,
Embroider'd with gold, and with sapphires inlaid;
Then led to a bow'r, where the musical throng,
Amateurs and professors, were all in full song:
A holly-bush form'd the orchestra, and in it
Sat the Blackbird, the Thrush, the Lark, and the Linnet.
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Just escap'd from his cage, and, with liberty blest,
In a sweet mellow tone join'd the lessons of art,
With the accents of nature which flow'd from his heart.
The Canary, a much-admir'd foreign musician,
Condescended to sing to the fowls of condition:
While the Nightingale warbled and quaver'd so fine,
That they all clapp'd their wings and pronounc'd it divine.
The Sky-Lark, in extacy, sang from a cloud;
And Chanticleer crow'd, and the Yaffil laugh'd loud.
The dancing began when the music was over;
A Dotterel first open'd the Ball with the Plover.
Baron Stork, in a waltz, was allow'd to excell,
With his beautiful partner the fair Demoiselle.
And a newly fledg'd Gosling, so slim and genteel,
A minuet swam with the spruce Mr. Teal.
A London-bred Sparrow, a pert forward cit,
Danc'd a reel with Miss Wagtail and little Tomtit.
The Sieur Guillemot next perform'd a pas seul,
While the elderly Bipeds were playing a pool.
The Dowager Lady Toucan first cut in,
With old Dr. Buzzard and Adm'ral Penguin.
From ivy-bush tow'r came dame Owlet the wise,
And Counsellor Crossbill sat by to advise.
But the Rook, who protested 'twas all mighty dull,
Chicken Hazard propos'd to the Pigeon and Gull;
And next day it was whisper'd, he kept them so late,
That the Pigeon had mortgag'd the pease-cod estate;
And the Gull, who, it seems, nothing more had to lose,
Had made his escape, and sail'd out on a cruize.
Some birds, past their prime, o'er whose heads it was fated
Should pass many St. Valentines, yet be unmated,
Sat by and remark'd, that the prudent and sage
Were quite overlook'd in this frivolous age,
When birds scarce pen-feather'd were brought to a rout,
Forward chits from the egg-shell but newly come out;
In their youthful days they ne'er witness'd such frisking;
And how wrong in the Greenfinch to flirt with the Siskin.
So thought Lady Mackaw, and her friend Cockatoo,
And the Raven foretold that no good would ensue.
They censur'd the Bantam for strutting and crowing
In those vile pantaloons, which he fancied look'd knowing:
And a want of decorum caus'd many demurs
Against the Game-Chicken, for coming in spurs.
To the Peacock's acquaintance 'twas wrong to object,
Yet they hop'd his next party would be more select;
For admitting the Bat, in his pinions of leather,
Was a shocking intrusion on people of feather:
Doubtful characters might be excluded at least,
And creatures that class not with bird nor with beast.
The Magpie, renown'd for discretion and candour,
Who always profess'd an abhorrence to slander,
Was much griev'd that the Pelican—meaning no ill,
So unkindly was peck'd by each ill-natured bill,
For attempting some delicate bits to secrete
For her young ones at home, just by way of a treat;
And before they were safe in her ridicule pack'd,
She was caught by the sharp-sighted Hawk in the fact.
Old Alderman Corm'rant, for supper impatient,
At the eating-room door for an hour had been station'd,
Till a Jay, in rich liv'ry, the banquet announcing,
Gave the signal long-wish'd-for of clamouring and pouncing.
At the well-furnish'd board all were eager to perch,
But the little Miss Creepers were left in the lurch.
A Dotterel first open'd the Ball with the Plover.
14
With his beautiful partner the fair Demoiselle.
And a newly fledg'd Gosling, so slim and genteel,
A minuet swam with the spruce Mr. Teal.
A London-bred Sparrow, a pert forward cit,
Danc'd a reel with Miss Wagtail and little Tomtit.
The Sieur Guillemot next perform'd a pas seul,
While the elderly Bipeds were playing a pool.
The Dowager Lady Toucan first cut in,
With old Dr. Buzzard and Adm'ral Penguin.
From ivy-bush tow'r came dame Owlet the wise,
And Counsellor Crossbill sat by to advise.
But the Rook, who protested 'twas all mighty dull,
Chicken Hazard propos'd to the Pigeon and Gull;
15
That the Pigeon had mortgag'd the pease-cod estate;
And the Gull, who, it seems, nothing more had to lose,
Had made his escape, and sail'd out on a cruize.
Some birds, past their prime, o'er whose heads it was fated
Should pass many St. Valentines, yet be unmated,
Sat by and remark'd, that the prudent and sage
Were quite overlook'd in this frivolous age,
When birds scarce pen-feather'd were brought to a rout,
Forward chits from the egg-shell but newly come out;
16
And how wrong in the Greenfinch to flirt with the Siskin.
So thought Lady Mackaw, and her friend Cockatoo,
And the Raven foretold that no good would ensue.
They censur'd the Bantam for strutting and crowing
In those vile pantaloons, which he fancied look'd knowing:
And a want of decorum caus'd many demurs
Against the Game-Chicken, for coming in spurs.
To the Peacock's acquaintance 'twas wrong to object,
Yet they hop'd his next party would be more select;
17
Was a shocking intrusion on people of feather:
Doubtful characters might be excluded at least,
And creatures that class not with bird nor with beast.
The Magpie, renown'd for discretion and candour,
Who always profess'd an abhorrence to slander,
Was much griev'd that the Pelican—meaning no ill,
So unkindly was peck'd by each ill-natured bill,
For attempting some delicate bits to secrete
For her young ones at home, just by way of a treat;
And before they were safe in her ridicule pack'd,
She was caught by the sharp-sighted Hawk in the fact.
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At the eating-room door for an hour had been station'd,
Till a Jay, in rich liv'ry, the banquet announcing,
Gave the signal long-wish'd-for of clamouring and pouncing.
At the well-furnish'd board all were eager to perch,
But the little Miss Creepers were left in the lurch.
Description must fail, and the pen is unable
To recount all the lux'ries which cover'd the table.
Each delicate viand that taste could denote,
Wasps à la sauce piquante, and flies en compôte;
Worms and frogs en friture for the web-footed fowl,
And a barbecued mouse was prepar'd for the Owl;
Nuts, grain, fruit, and fish, to regale every palate,
And groundsel and chickweed serv'd up in a sallad.
The Razorbill carv'd for the famishing group,
And the Spoonbill obligingly ladled the soup:
While such justice was done to the dainties before 'em,
That the tables were clear'd with the utmost decorum.
To recount all the lux'ries which cover'd the table.
Each delicate viand that taste could denote,
Wasps à la sauce piquante, and flies en compôte;
Worms and frogs en friture for the web-footed fowl,
And a barbecued mouse was prepar'd for the Owl;
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And groundsel and chickweed serv'd up in a sallad.
The Razorbill carv'd for the famishing group,
And the Spoonbill obligingly ladled the soup:
While such justice was done to the dainties before 'em,
That the tables were clear'd with the utmost decorum.
When they gaily had carroll'd till peep of the dawn,
The Lark gently hinted, 'twas time to be gone;
And his clarion so shrill gave the company warning
That Chanticleer scented the gales of the morning:
So they chirp'd in full concert a friendly adieu,
And, with hearts beating light as the plumage that grew
On their merrythought bosoms, away they all flew.
The Lark gently hinted, 'twas time to be gone;
And his clarion so shrill gave the company warning
That Chanticleer scented the gales of the morning:
20
And, with hearts beating light as the plumage that grew
On their merrythought bosoms, away they all flew.
Then long live the Peacock, in splendour unmatch'd,
Whose Ball shall be talk'd of by birds yet unhatch'd;
His fame let the Trumpeter loudly proclaim,
And the Goose lend her quill to transmit it to fame!
Whose Ball shall be talk'd of by birds yet unhatch'd;
His fame let the Trumpeter loudly proclaim,
And the Goose lend her quill to transmit it to fame!
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THE CAPTIVE FLY.
Seduc'd by idle change and luxury,
See in vain struggles the expiring Fly,
He perishes! for lo, in evil hour,
He rush'd to taste of yonder garish flower,
Which in young beauty's loveliest colours drest,
Conceals destruction in her treacherous breast,
While round the roseate chalice odours breathe,
And lure the wanderer to voluptuous death.
See in vain struggles the expiring Fly,
He perishes! for lo, in evil hour,
He rush'd to taste of yonder garish flower,
Which in young beauty's loveliest colours drest,
Conceals destruction in her treacherous breast,
While round the roseate chalice odours breathe,
And lure the wanderer to voluptuous death.
Ill-fated vagrant! did no instinct cry,
Shun the sweet mischief?—No experienc'd Fly
Bid thee of this fair smiling fiend beware,
And say, the false Apocynum is there?
Ah! wherefore quit for this Circean draught
The Bean's ambrosial flower, with incense fraught,
Or where with promise rich, Fragaria spreads
Her spangling blossoms on her leafy beds?
Could thy wild flight no softer blooms detain?
And tower'd the Lilac's purple groups in vain?
Or waving showers of golden blossoms, where
Laburnum's pensile tassels float in air,
When thou within those topaz keels might'st creep
Secure, and rock'd by lulling winds to sleep.
Shun the sweet mischief?—No experienc'd Fly
Bid thee of this fair smiling fiend beware,
And say, the false Apocynum is there?
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The Bean's ambrosial flower, with incense fraught,
Or where with promise rich, Fragaria spreads
Her spangling blossoms on her leafy beds?
Could thy wild flight no softer blooms detain?
And tower'd the Lilac's purple groups in vain?
Or waving showers of golden blossoms, where
Laburnum's pensile tassels float in air,
When thou within those topaz keels might'st creep
Secure, and rock'd by lulling winds to sleep.
But now no more for thee shall June unclose
Her spicy Clove-pink, and her Damask Rose;
Not for thy food shall swell the downy Peach,
Nor Raspberries blush beneath the embowering Beech.
In efforts vain thy fragile wings are torn,
Sharp with distress resounds thy small shrill horn,
While thy gay happy comrades hear thy cry,
Yet heed thee not, and careless frolic by,
Till thou, sad victim, every struggle o'er,
Despairing sink, and feel thy fate no more.
An insect lost should thus the Muse bewail?
Ah no! but 'tis the moral points the tale
From the mild friend, who seeks with candid truth
To show its errors to presumptuous Youth;
From the fond caution of parental care,
Whose watchful love detects the hidden snare,
How do the Young reject, with proud disdain,
Wisdom's firm voice, and Reason's prudent rein,
And urge, on pleasure bent, the impetuous way,
Heedless of all but of the present day:
Then while false meteor-lights their steps entice,
They taste, they drink, the empoison'd cup of vice;
Till misery follows; and too late they mourn,
Lost in the fatal gulph, from whence there's no return.
Her spicy Clove-pink, and her Damask Rose;
Not for thy food shall swell the downy Peach,
Nor Raspberries blush beneath the embowering Beech.
56
Sharp with distress resounds thy small shrill horn,
While thy gay happy comrades hear thy cry,
Yet heed thee not, and careless frolic by,
Till thou, sad victim, every struggle o'er,
Despairing sink, and feel thy fate no more.
An insect lost should thus the Muse bewail?
Ah no! but 'tis the moral points the tale
From the mild friend, who seeks with candid truth
To show its errors to presumptuous Youth;
From the fond caution of parental care,
Whose watchful love detects the hidden snare,
How do the Young reject, with proud disdain,
Wisdom's firm voice, and Reason's prudent rein,
And urge, on pleasure bent, the impetuous way,
Heedless of all but of the present day:
57
They taste, they drink, the empoison'd cup of vice;
Till misery follows; and too late they mourn,
Lost in the fatal gulph, from whence there's no return.
67
THE HUMBLE-BEE.
Good morrow, gentle Humble-bee,
You are abroad betimes, I see,
And sportive fly from tree to tree,
To take the air;
You are abroad betimes, I see,
And sportive fly from tree to tree,
To take the air;
And visit each gay flower that blows;
While every bell and bud that glows,
Quite from the daisy to the rose,
Your visits share.
While every bell and bud that glows,
Quite from the daisy to the rose,
Your visits share.
Saluting now the pie'd carnation,
Now on the aster taking station,
Murmuring your ardent admiration;
Then off you frisk,
Now on the aster taking station,
Murmuring your ardent admiration;
Then off you frisk,
68
Where poppies hang their heavy heads,
Or where the gorgeous sun-flower spreads
For you her luscious golden beds,
On her broad disk.
Or where the gorgeous sun-flower spreads
For you her luscious golden beds,
On her broad disk.
To live on pleasure's painted wing,
To feed on all the sweets of Spring,
Must be a mighty pleasant thing,
If it would last.
To feed on all the sweets of Spring,
Must be a mighty pleasant thing,
If it would last.
But you, no doubt, have wisely thought,
These joys may be too dearly bought,
And will not unprepar'd be caught.
When Summer's past.
These joys may be too dearly bought,
And will not unprepar'd be caught.
When Summer's past.
For soon will fly the laughing hours,
And this delightful waste of flowers
Will shrink before the wint'ry showers
And winds so keen.
And this delightful waste of flowers
Will shrink before the wint'ry showers
And winds so keen.
69
Alas! who then will lend you aid;
If your dry cell be yet unmade,
Nor store of wax and honey laid
In magazine?
If your dry cell be yet unmade,
Nor store of wax and honey laid
In magazine?
Then, Lady Buzz, you will repent,
That hours for useful labour meant
Were so unprofitably spent,
And idly lost.
That hours for useful labour meant
Were so unprofitably spent,
And idly lost.
By cold and hunger keen oppress'd,
Say, will your yellow velvet vest,
Or the fur tippet on your breast,
Shield you from frost?
Say, will your yellow velvet vest,
Or the fur tippet on your breast,
Shield you from frost?
Ah! haste your winter stock to save,
That snug within your Christmas cave,
When snows fall fast and tempests rave,
You may remain.
That snug within your Christmas cave,
When snows fall fast and tempests rave,
You may remain.
70
And the hard season braving there,
On Spring's warm gales you will repair,
Elate thro' crystal fields of air,
To bliss again!
On Spring's warm gales you will repair,
Elate thro' crystal fields of air,
To bliss again!
86
THE SPIDER.
Arachne! poor degraded maid!
Doom'd to obscurity's cold shade,
The price your vanity has paid
Excites my pity.
No wonder you should take alarm,
Lest vengeance in a housewife's form,
Your fortress should attack by storm,
And raze your city.
Doom'd to obscurity's cold shade,
The price your vanity has paid
Excites my pity.
No wonder you should take alarm,
Lest vengeance in a housewife's form,
Your fortress should attack by storm,
And raze your city.
In truth you are not much befriended,
For since with wisdom you contended,
And the stern Goddess so offended,
Each earthly Pallas
Views you with horror and affright,
Shrinks with abhorence from your sight,
Signing your death-warrant in spite,
To pity callous.
For since with wisdom you contended,
And the stern Goddess so offended,
Each earthly Pallas
87
Shrinks with abhorence from your sight,
Signing your death-warrant in spite,
To pity callous.
You were not cast in Beauty's mould,
You have no shard of burnish'd gold,
No painted wing can you unfold
With gems bespotted.
Your form disgusting to all eyes,
The Toad in ugliness outvies,
And nature has her homeliest guise
To you allotted.
You have no shard of burnish'd gold,
No painted wing can you unfold
With gems bespotted.
Your form disgusting to all eyes,
The Toad in ugliness outvies,
And nature has her homeliest guise
To you allotted.
Yet, if with philosophic eye,
The Young would but observe you ply
Your patient toil, and fortify
Your habitation;
Spreading your net of slenderest twine,
Each artful mesh contriv'd to join,
Strengthening with doubled thread the line
Of circumvallation.
The Young would but observe you ply
88
Your habitation;
Spreading your net of slenderest twine,
Each artful mesh contriv'd to join,
Strengthening with doubled thread the line
Of circumvallation.
Methinks your curious progress would
Give them a lecture full as good
As some; so little understood,
So much affected.
And as you dart upon your prey,
Might they not moralize and say,
Spiders and Men alike betray
The unprotected?
Give them a lecture full as good
As some; so little understood,
So much affected.
And as you dart upon your prey,
Might they not moralize and say,
Spiders and Men alike betray
The unprotected?
89
Might you not tell the light coquette,
Who spreads for some poor youth her net,
Entangling thus without regret
Her simple lover;
That such ensnares of the heart,
Might in contemplating your art,
Her own unworthy counterpart
In you discover?
Who spreads for some poor youth her net,
Entangling thus without regret
Her simple lover;
That such ensnares of the heart,
Might in contemplating your art,
Her own unworthy counterpart
In you discover?
Your sober habits then compare,
With those bright insects who repair
To sport and frolick thro' the air,
All gay and winning;
While you your household cares attend,
Your toils no vain pursuits suspend,
But carefully your nets you mend,
And mind your spinning.
With those bright insects who repair
To sport and frolick thro' the air,
All gay and winning;
While you your household cares attend,
Your toils no vain pursuits suspend,
90
And mind your spinning.
The Butterfly, while life is new,
As he has nothing else to do,
May like a Bond-street beau pursue
His vagrant courses;
But nature to her creatures kind,
You to an humbler fate consign'd,
Yet taught you in yourself to find
Your own resources.
As he has nothing else to do,
May like a Bond-street beau pursue
His vagrant courses;
But nature to her creatures kind,
You to an humbler fate consign'd,
Yet taught you in yourself to find
Your own resources.
91
AN ORIENTAL APOLOGUE.
A sage once in his lonely pathway found
A substance which such od'rous power possess'd;
That as he breath'd the perfume spread around,
He thus his pleasure and surprize express'd:
A substance which such od'rous power possess'd;
That as he breath'd the perfume spread around,
He thus his pleasure and surprize express'd:
Whence com'st thou, soft enchanter of the sense;
What zephyr bore thee on his rosy wing;
Did chemic art thy blended sweets dispense,
Or hast thou robb'd the treasury of Spring?
What zephyr bore thee on his rosy wing;
Did chemic art thy blended sweets dispense,
Or hast thou robb'd the treasury of Spring?
Do precious gums these grateful airs diffuse,
From Musk from Amber do these scents arise?
Fell they from heav'n combin'd with purest dews?
Ah no! a soft harmonious voice replies.
From Musk from Amber do these scents arise?
92
Ah no! a soft harmonious voice replies.
Nature to me has given no inborn worth;
And if delicious odours I disclose,
I claim them not, who am but vulgar earth,
'Tis that I've liv'd the inmate of the Rose.
And if delicious odours I disclose,
I claim them not, who am but vulgar earth,
'Tis that I've liv'd the inmate of the Rose.
Where-e'er her balmy influence prevails,
Around the soul-reviving spirit spread;
And I the fragrant essence have inhal'd,
And drank the dews her crimson petals shed.
Around the soul-reviving spirit spread;
And I the fragrant essence have inhal'd,
And drank the dews her crimson petals shed.
93
WRITTEN IN SOUTHAMPTON IN 1806.
Thus didst thou smile, enchanting scene!
Thus Summer's hand in freshest green,
These oak-crown'd banks had dress'd;
So shone the sun in cloudless pride,
Such the blue heav'n the sparkling tide
Reflected on its breast.
Thus Summer's hand in freshest green,
These oak-crown'd banks had dress'd;
So shone the sun in cloudless pride,
Such the blue heav'n the sparkling tide
Reflected on its breast.
When gay of heart I sought thy strand,
To join a lov'd and social band,
In youth's delightful hours;
Joy in each bosom then beat high,
And pleasure beam'd from every eye,
And health and hope were ours.
To join a lov'd and social band,
In youth's delightful hours;
Joy in each bosom then beat high,
And pleasure beam'd from every eye,
And health and hope were ours.
94
As yonder glancing sun-beam falls,
With glowing light on Calshot's walls,
And Vesta's purple height;
Soften'd by distance, so appears
In hope's false glass our future years,
To youth's deluded sight.
With glowing light on Calshot's walls,
And Vesta's purple height;
Soften'd by distance, so appears
In hope's false glass our future years,
To youth's deluded sight.
As with white sail and pennants gay,
Our gallant vessel won its way,
And caught the playful wind;
We fondly thought that such wou'd be
Our voyage thro' life's tempestuous sea,
Nor reck'd the storms behind.
Our gallant vessel won its way,
And caught the playful wind;
We fondly thought that such wou'd be
Our voyage thro' life's tempestuous sea,
Nor reck'd the storms behind.
We thought not then of threatening skies,
Nor yet what adverse winds might rise,
To drive us from the coast;
That tempest-tost on passion's tide,
How soon—unskill'd the helm to guide,
Might shipwreck'd peace be lost.
Nor yet what adverse winds might rise,
95
That tempest-tost on passion's tide,
How soon—unskill'd the helm to guide,
Might shipwreck'd peace be lost.
Ah! why will memory once more,
Fond thoughts and vain regrets restore,
By time almost effac'd;
Why bid me count of that fair train,
How few! and those what wrecks,
To tell of tempests past?
Fond thoughts and vain regrets restore,
By time almost effac'd;
Why bid me count of that fair train,
How few! and those what wrecks,
To tell of tempests past?
Far happiest they, whose struggles o'er,
Have reach'd the port on death's safe shore,
And clos'd their troubl'ous day;
While my frail bark must still abide,
Neglect's cold winds, and sorrow's tide,
And urge her lonely way.
Have reach'd the port on death's safe shore,
And clos'd their troubl'ous day;
96
Neglect's cold winds, and sorrow's tide,
And urge her lonely way.
But dark despair can ne'er o'erwhelm,
While Fortitude still keeps the helm,
With Patience at her side;
While Hope still points to happier lands,
And Faith entrusts to mortal hands,
Her compass for their guide.
While Fortitude still keeps the helm,
With Patience at her side;
While Hope still points to happier lands,
And Faith entrusts to mortal hands,
Her compass for their guide.
97
TO A FRIEND,
WHO ASSERTED THAT LIFE HAD NO PLEASURE AFTER EARLY YOUTH.
Tell me no more, repining Friend,
“That, Youth's gay holiday once past,
“Our false and fleeting pleasures end,
“And life has lost all zest and taste.
“That, Youth's gay holiday once past,
“Our false and fleeting pleasures end,
“And life has lost all zest and taste.
“That when love's bandeau time shall steal,
“The wayward boy will soon take wing,
“While taught by cold neglect we feel,
“That friendship knows no second spring.
“The wayward boy will soon take wing,
“While taught by cold neglect we feel,
“That friendship knows no second spring.
“To sordid selfishness a prey,
“The palsied heart forgets to feel;
“Nor generous impulse can obey
“Where cautious age has set his seal.”
“The palsied heart forgets to feel;
98
“Where cautious age has set his seal.”
Hence, cheerless pencil! whose harsh lines
And sombre tints my soul disclaims:
Time mellows friendship, like old wines;
And tempers love's too ardent flames.
And sombre tints my soul disclaims:
Time mellows friendship, like old wines;
And tempers love's too ardent flames.
Why dress in clouds the autumn day?
Because the spring's bright dawn is fled.
Why cast the amaranth away?
Because the vernal rose is shed.
Because the spring's bright dawn is fled.
Why cast the amaranth away?
Because the vernal rose is shed.
Tho' summer's fervent heat is spent,
Sweet is the evening hour of reason,
The time to gather in content,
The wholesome fruit of every season.
Sweet is the evening hour of reason,
The time to gather in content,
The wholesome fruit of every season.
99
ON WIT.
Seducing Wit, thou soul-enlivening ray,
Deceptive fire, that shines but to betray;
Meteor, whose blaze infatuates the sight
With brilliant but unprofitable light.
Thou rare, but fatal Gift! invidious art,
The subtle poison that corrupts the heart;
Perfidious inmate even to the breast,
Where thou'rt most fondly cherish'd and caress'd:
In thee what various qualities combine,
And who thy Proteus nature can define?
Condemn'd tho' courted—hated tho' admir'd;
Dreaded in others, by ourselves desir'd;
Shunn'd by the dull, by wisdom disapprov'd,
By most applauded, but by few belov'd.
'Tis thine to aim the sharp envenom'd dart,
With skill unerring, at a kindred heart,
To raise, unmindful of discretion's laws,
An host of foes to gain—one fool's applause.
Thine the keen sarcasm and the quick retort,
The playful malice—that can wound in sport.
Aw'd by the piercing glances of thine eyes,
Affrighted Love expands his wings and flies;
And as a flower that shrinks beneath the blight,
Insulted friendship sickens at thy sight;
Yet when with all thy gay and sportive grace
Thou com'st to light up joy in every face,
And bring'st frank pleasantry and fancy wild,
With humour quaint, thy mirth-inspiring child;
When calm forbearance checks thy rapid tide,
And judgment deigns thy erring steps to guide;
While mild good-humour tempers every dart,
And bids thee throw thy scorpion lash apart.
Who but must yield to thy bewitching power,
And rather brave the thorn—than lose the flower,
Resentment soften'd by thy smile disarms,
And ev'n relenting wisdom owns thy charms.
Deceptive fire, that shines but to betray;
Meteor, whose blaze infatuates the sight
With brilliant but unprofitable light.
Thou rare, but fatal Gift! invidious art,
The subtle poison that corrupts the heart;
Perfidious inmate even to the breast,
Where thou'rt most fondly cherish'd and caress'd:
In thee what various qualities combine,
And who thy Proteus nature can define?
Condemn'd tho' courted—hated tho' admir'd;
Dreaded in others, by ourselves desir'd;
100
By most applauded, but by few belov'd.
'Tis thine to aim the sharp envenom'd dart,
With skill unerring, at a kindred heart,
To raise, unmindful of discretion's laws,
An host of foes to gain—one fool's applause.
Thine the keen sarcasm and the quick retort,
The playful malice—that can wound in sport.
Aw'd by the piercing glances of thine eyes,
Affrighted Love expands his wings and flies;
And as a flower that shrinks beneath the blight,
Insulted friendship sickens at thy sight;
Yet when with all thy gay and sportive grace
Thou com'st to light up joy in every face,
And bring'st frank pleasantry and fancy wild,
With humour quaint, thy mirth-inspiring child;
101
And judgment deigns thy erring steps to guide;
While mild good-humour tempers every dart,
And bids thee throw thy scorpion lash apart.
Who but must yield to thy bewitching power,
And rather brave the thorn—than lose the flower,
Resentment soften'd by thy smile disarms,
And ev'n relenting wisdom owns thy charms.
Oh winning mischief, fertile source of ill,
While I condemn thee—I must love thee still
By reason prompted I would break thy chain,
But one bright look would lure me back again.
While I condemn thee—I must love thee still
By reason prompted I would break thy chain,
But one bright look would lure me back again.
102
AN ENIGMA.
France gave me birth and made my merits known,
England receiv'd and rear'd me as her own;
By her promoted to a lofty station,
I labour in the service of the nation;
And though my foreign lineage may provoke
Honest John Bull, who hates Outlandish folk,
He need not fear me—for I'm heart of oak.
Fix'd to a spot, yet constantly in motion,
I bring intelligence from land and ocean,
And without quitting my appointed place,
Scarce thought itself is quicker in the race;
The gossip Fame may throw her trumpet by,
She cannot spread reports so quick as I:
Yet I've no tongue—and few my language read,
But with my brethren I'm so well agreed,
That tho' we live full many a mile apart,
To each the same idea we impart;
So sympathize that when I silence break,
As by one impulse mov'd, the rest all speak.
England receiv'd and rear'd me as her own;
By her promoted to a lofty station,
I labour in the service of the nation;
And though my foreign lineage may provoke
Honest John Bull, who hates Outlandish folk,
He need not fear me—for I'm heart of oak.
Fix'd to a spot, yet constantly in motion,
I bring intelligence from land and ocean,
And without quitting my appointed place,
Scarce thought itself is quicker in the race;
The gossip Fame may throw her trumpet by,
She cannot spread reports so quick as I:
103
But with my brethren I'm so well agreed,
That tho' we live full many a mile apart,
To each the same idea we impart;
So sympathize that when I silence break,
As by one impulse mov'd, the rest all speak.
Submissive I am rul'd by others' hands,
Yet fleets and armies move by my commands;
I boast no beauty—and yet Lords of State
Watch all my looks, and on my motions wait;
And tho' unvers'd in politics' deep school,
I'm of the minister a useful tool;
An Oracle whose words admit no doubts,
And credited alike by ins and outs;
To military skill I've no pretence,
Yet on the war depends my consequence.
Yet fleets and armies move by my commands;
I boast no beauty—and yet Lords of State
Watch all my looks, and on my motions wait;
And tho' unvers'd in politics' deep school,
I'm of the minister a useful tool;
An Oracle whose words admit no doubts,
And credited alike by ins and outs;
To military skill I've no pretence,
Yet on the war depends my consequence.
104
Peace once restor'd, neglected I shall mourn
My honours lost, “my occupation gone:”
Yet why despair, for surely there remains
Some Gallic spirit yet within my veins?
And Frenchmen, ever fruitful in resources,
Can turn their talents into different courses;
Pliant can bend to ev'ry change of fate,
Whether they guide the stew-pan or the state;
So if by fierce Bellona I'm dismiss'd,
Beneath soft Cupid's banners I'll enlist.
My honours lost, “my occupation gone:”
Yet why despair, for surely there remains
Some Gallic spirit yet within my veins?
And Frenchmen, ever fruitful in resources,
Can turn their talents into different courses;
Pliant can bend to ev'ry change of fate,
Whether they guide the stew-pan or the state;
So if by fierce Bellona I'm dismiss'd,
Beneath soft Cupid's banners I'll enlist.
Lovers, my graphic skill employ'd for you,
Will supersede the tell-tale billet-doux.
No more the rude Philistines of a court,
Shall turn your soft effusions into sport;
When I the love-inspiring sentence frame
In words as evanescent as your flame.
Will supersede the tell-tale billet-doux.
No more the rude Philistines of a court,
Shall turn your soft effusions into sport;
When I the love-inspiring sentence frame
In words as evanescent as your flame.
105
No longer shall the impatient Fair bewail
The ling'ring postman, or the tardy mail,
When I love's gentler signals to obey,
The tender wish, and ardent vow convey,
“Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul,
“And waft a sigh from Indus to the Pole.’
The ling'ring postman, or the tardy mail,
When I love's gentler signals to obey,
The tender wish, and ardent vow convey,
“Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul,
“And waft a sigh from Indus to the Pole.’
106
ADDRESS TO THE MOON.
[_]
The following lines were suggested by the story of a Lady, who having had her son removed from her protection, at a very early age, adopted the same expedient of carrying on an imaginary intercourse with him, as was devised by the two Lovers mentioned in one of the old French romances, viz. that of looking at the Moon at stated periods, agreed on between them. The son (who was well known to the author) has frequently assured her, that no occupation or amusement ever withheld him on moon-light nights from a dutiful observance of this her last injunction, during the short period she survived their separation, and that through life he never could look at the Moon, without associating with it the tender recollection of a beloved and unhappy mother.
107
Oh! silver Moon! fair sovereign of night,
Dear to my heart is thy returning light,
Thy tranquil influence seems to soothe my pain,
For Sorrow loves thy soft and silent reign—
And as I watch thy orb serene and mild,
My soul springs forth to meet my absent child;
Yes, at this hour to sadness ever sweet,
On thy bright disk our pensive eyes shall meet;
One ray of bliss from thee I yet enjoy,
One point of union with my darling boy;
Nor time nor absence from his gentle breast
Can e'er efface his mother's last behest;
Ev'n now—he gazes on thy trem'lous light,
Thro' the fond filial tear that dims his sight;
My faded form before his eyes appears,
He feels my touch—my languid voice he hears;
Each word endearing I was wont to speak,
While my warm kisses glow upon his cheek.
Oh! it is soothing to my soul to know,
One link yet binds us in this vale of woe.
Dear to my heart is thy returning light,
Thy tranquil influence seems to soothe my pain,
For Sorrow loves thy soft and silent reign—
And as I watch thy orb serene and mild,
My soul springs forth to meet my absent child;
Yes, at this hour to sadness ever sweet,
On thy bright disk our pensive eyes shall meet;
One ray of bliss from thee I yet enjoy,
One point of union with my darling boy;
Nor time nor absence from his gentle breast
Can e'er efface his mother's last behest;
Ev'n now—he gazes on thy trem'lous light,
Thro' the fond filial tear that dims his sight;
My faded form before his eyes appears,
He feels my touch—my languid voice he hears;
108
While my warm kisses glow upon his cheek.
Oh! it is soothing to my soul to know,
One link yet binds us in this vale of woe.
Methinks the wandering spirits of the air
Smile as they pass, and tell me he is there;
Tell me his eyes are fix'd intent on thee,
While ev'ry tender thought reverts to me.
Smile as they pass, and tell me he is there;
Tell me his eyes are fix'd intent on thee,
While ev'ry tender thought reverts to me.
Return, aërial Forms! return and bear
The mother's wishes, and the mother's prayer;
Tell him, my heart, with his lov'd image fraught,
Beats but for him, nor owns another thought,
Morn sees me bend before the heav'nly throne,
Night hears me pleading for my absent Son.
But him! no tender mother's anxious care
Shall teach to raise his little hands in prayer,
Instruct his tongue to lisp his Maker's praise,
Or guide his footsteps in his sacred ways.
To virtue who shall lead his erring youth?
The rugged path of science who shall smooth?
What eye, where sorrow meets parental love,
Weep for the fault, which Duty must reprove?
Whose care shall watch the couch of dire disease?
His infant griefs, what voice shall lull to peace?
Since never more to this maternal breast,
Shall the dear idol of my soul be prest.
For in the cruel hour that bade us part,
Death wing'd th'impoison'd arrow to my heart;
And ere, bright Planet! thou shalt thrice renew
Thy crescent in yon arch of heavenly blue,
Low shall my head be laid in endless rest;
My wounded spirit, mingled with the blest
And if (when this tumultuous scene we leave,
As Fancy prompts th'enthusiast to believe)
It is permitted from the realms above
To watch the objects of our earthly love,
Sure pitying Heav'n will grant the boon I ask,
To guard my infant be my sacred task;
Round his lov'd head my sheltering wings to spread,
Glide in his path, and hover o'er his bed.
And as thro' time's dark veil my trusting eye
(Sketch'd by hope's golden pencil) can descry
The latent features of his manly mind,
By early sorrows ripen'd and refin'd,
The ardent spirit and the graceful form,
The heart with ev'ry kind affection warm;
By fond remembrance urg'd, the youth will prove
How well the child deserv'd his mother's love.
Then to these mournful scenes he will return,
And wash with tears my long-neglected urn.
And when, O lovely Moon! thy silver rays
Shall shed their tranquil light on happier days,
Thy sight shall still, with my sad image join'd,
Recall his mother's memory to his mind.
The mother's wishes, and the mother's prayer;
Tell him, my heart, with his lov'd image fraught,
Beats but for him, nor owns another thought,
Morn sees me bend before the heav'nly throne,
Night hears me pleading for my absent Son.
But him! no tender mother's anxious care
Shall teach to raise his little hands in prayer,
109
Or guide his footsteps in his sacred ways.
To virtue who shall lead his erring youth?
The rugged path of science who shall smooth?
What eye, where sorrow meets parental love,
Weep for the fault, which Duty must reprove?
Whose care shall watch the couch of dire disease?
His infant griefs, what voice shall lull to peace?
Since never more to this maternal breast,
Shall the dear idol of my soul be prest.
For in the cruel hour that bade us part,
Death wing'd th'impoison'd arrow to my heart;
And ere, bright Planet! thou shalt thrice renew
Thy crescent in yon arch of heavenly blue,
Low shall my head be laid in endless rest;
My wounded spirit, mingled with the blest
110
As Fancy prompts th'enthusiast to believe)
It is permitted from the realms above
To watch the objects of our earthly love,
Sure pitying Heav'n will grant the boon I ask,
To guard my infant be my sacred task;
Round his lov'd head my sheltering wings to spread,
Glide in his path, and hover o'er his bed.
And as thro' time's dark veil my trusting eye
(Sketch'd by hope's golden pencil) can descry
The latent features of his manly mind,
By early sorrows ripen'd and refin'd,
The ardent spirit and the graceful form,
The heart with ev'ry kind affection warm;
By fond remembrance urg'd, the youth will prove
How well the child deserv'd his mother's love.
111
And wash with tears my long-neglected urn.
And when, O lovely Moon! thy silver rays
Shall shed their tranquil light on happier days,
Thy sight shall still, with my sad image join'd,
Recall his mother's memory to his mind.
112
THE RECLUSE AND THE BEAR.
On the wild confines of an aged wood,
A simple Swain possess'd a little spot,
On which his neat paternal mansions stood;
And hitherto contented with his lot;
A simple Swain possess'd a little spot,
On which his neat paternal mansions stood;
And hitherto contented with his lot;
He led a solitary, blameless life,
In rural occupation spent his hours;
And far from busy scenes of noise and strife,
Wooed contemplation in her woodland bow'rs.
In rural occupation spent his hours;
And far from busy scenes of noise and strife,
Wooed contemplation in her woodland bow'rs.
His little garden was his only pride,
Vot'ry of Flora; and that blooming fair,
So hardly won to be Vertumnus' bride,
The kindred goddesses his homage share:
Vot'ry of Flora; and that blooming fair,
113
The kindred goddesses his homage share:
With smiles propitious they reward his toil,
And grant him fostering dews and genial showers,
Instruct him to reclaim the stubborn soil,
And how to train his shrubs and rear his flowers.
And grant him fostering dews and genial showers,
Instruct him to reclaim the stubborn soil,
And how to train his shrubs and rear his flowers.
Our horticulturist with fond delight
Watch'd every opening bud and tender germ;
Shelter'd his infant plants from frost and blight,
And sought with careful hand th'insidious worm;
Watch'd every opening bud and tender germ;
Shelter'd his infant plants from frost and blight,
And sought with careful hand th'insidious worm;
Hail'd the first Snow-drop, stealing from its sheath;
The early Daffodil, and Primrose pale;
And caught the bashful Violet's fragrant breath,
Or the soft-scented Lily of the Vale;
The early Daffodil, and Primrose pale;
114
Or the soft-scented Lily of the Vale;
Till, fickle April past, the laughing Hours,
Dress'd in fresh garlands, led propitious May:
And now his garden bloom'd in richer flowers,
Jonquils, Anemones, Ranunculus gay,
Dress'd in fresh garlands, led propitious May:
And now his garden bloom'd in richer flowers,
Jonquils, Anemones, Ranunculus gay,
And drooping Hyacinths, that fear to face,
Their ancient enemy's destructive breath,
So fatal to the founder of their race,
Whom Phœbus lov'd in life, and mourn'd in death.
Their ancient enemy's destructive breath,
So fatal to the founder of their race,
Whom Phœbus lov'd in life, and mourn'd in death.
The Woodbine round his little lattice twin'd;
The clustering Lilac and Sweet-briar among,
Like golden tresses waving in the wind
Laburnham's flexile wreaths luxuriant hung.
The clustering Lilac and Sweet-briar among,
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Laburnham's flexile wreaths luxuriant hung.
As thoughtful on his spade the Swain reclin'd,
And saw his flowers so fair, his shrubs so green,
At his unsocial state he first repin'd;
And sigh'd—“What pity! they must bloom unseen.
And saw his flowers so fair, his shrubs so green,
At his unsocial state he first repin'd;
And sigh'd—“What pity! they must bloom unseen.
“Had I a friend”, said he, “or e'en a wife,
“Who could with me my simple pleasures share;
“To break this sad monotony of life,
“Whose smiles approving—would reward my care.
“Who could with me my simple pleasures share;
“To break this sad monotony of life,
“Whose smiles approving—would reward my care.
“For vain the gardener's skill, the florist's art;
“Tasteless the fruit which friendship does not share;
“My flowers to me no pleasure can impart,
“Since no one says, How beautiful they are!’
“Tasteless the fruit which friendship does not share;
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“Since no one says, How beautiful they are!’
These thoughts depress'd him all the summer thro',
And vague designs his wav'ring fancy fill;
For rapidly the lovely season flew,
And soon the days grew short, the evenings chill.
And vague designs his wav'ring fancy fill;
For rapidly the lovely season flew,
And soon the days grew short, the evenings chill.
Then came the Equinox—The ruffian winds,
With russet leaves his late trim walks deform;
And pale and faint the cheerless sun declines:
The wreaths of autumn wither in the storm.
With russet leaves his late trim walks deform;
And pale and faint the cheerless sun declines:
The wreaths of autumn wither in the storm.
The Hollyoak, which tower'd the garden's glory,
Now humbled in the dust, unseemly lies;
And lovelorn Clytia, fam'd in fabled story,
Turns to the Sun no more her golden eyes.
Now humbled in the dust, unseemly lies;
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Turns to the Sun no more her golden eyes.
Then to his sadden'd fancy came in view,
Hyemal horrors, dress'd in sad array;
Ere Spring his silent pleasures would renew,
How many dreary months must pass away!
Hyemal horrors, dress'd in sad array;
Ere Spring his silent pleasures would renew,
How many dreary months must pass away!
The prospect so appall'd him, that one morn,
With staff and scrip he left his lone retreat;
Thro' paths which human steps had never worn,
He trod the doubtful way, with timorous feet.
With staff and scrip he left his lone retreat;
Thro' paths which human steps had never worn,
He trod the doubtful way, with timorous feet.
It chanc'd within the forest's ample range,
A Bear, sole monarch of the desart, dwelt;
Satiate of power, and longing for a change,
He too the weariness of life had felt.
A Bear, sole monarch of the desart, dwelt;
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He too the weariness of life had felt.
For war and hunting he had pass'd the age;
His wife was dead, his cubs were all full-grown;
So he'd a fancy now to play the sage,
Like the Fifth Charles, and abdicate his throne.
His wife was dead, his cubs were all full-grown;
So he'd a fancy now to play the sage,
Like the Fifth Charles, and abdicate his throne.
In foreign parts to travel for a while,
He left his cavern in the mountain's side;
And thought his restless humour to beguile
By sweet variety, and scenes untried.
He left his cavern in the mountain's side;
And thought his restless humour to beguile
By sweet variety, and scenes untried.
From different points, each traveller pursued
The same wild track o'erarch'd with aged trees;
High fern obstructs the path, and brambles rude,
And the sear leaves fall rustling in the breeze.
The same wild track o'erarch'd with aged trees;
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And the sear leaves fall rustling in the breeze.
The Hermit stopp'd, and fear'd he knew not what,
Unthought-of dangers might his steps pursue,
And half repentant turn'd towards his cot,
Just as the feline stranger came in view,
Unthought-of dangers might his steps pursue,
And half repentant turn'd towards his cot,
Just as the feline stranger came in view,
And met the trembling Swain with solemn pace
No aid was near, or prospect of retreating;
'Twas wisest then to wear a fearless face,
And seem delighted at the happy meeting.
No aid was near, or prospect of retreating;
'Twas wisest then to wear a fearless face,
And seem delighted at the happy meeting.
Love at first sight, we know is nothing rare;
And may not friendship's flame as quickly glow?
Betwixt our solitary and the Bear
(The fable says,) it really happen'd so.
And may not friendship's flame as quickly glow?
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(The fable says,) it really happen'd so.
The one, a beast of no great observation,
Fancied he'd met the wonder of the age;
The other not much us'd to conversation,
Thought Bruin's brief remarks profoundly sage.
Fancied he'd met the wonder of the age;
The other not much us'd to conversation,
Thought Bruin's brief remarks profoundly sage.
So on a short acquaintance, they agreed
Henceforth to live in amity eternal;
To be sworn brothers, both in word and deed,
And seal'd the bond with many a hug fraternal.
Henceforth to live in amity eternal;
To be sworn brothers, both in word and deed,
And seal'd the bond with many a hug fraternal.
The Swain recalling now his long-lov'd cottage,
Homeward propos'd his weary steps to bend,
And press'd his new-made friend to share his pottage,
And without further toil their travels end.
Homeward propos'd his weary steps to bend,
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And without further toil their travels end.
With rustic frankness Bruin yields consent,
And side by side in social guise they walk;
No pair of lovers e'er were more content,
As they jogg'd on in confidential talk.
And side by side in social guise they walk;
No pair of lovers e'er were more content,
As they jogg'd on in confidential talk.
The Bear upon his power and wealth declaim'd,
Then on his ancestry, and told with pride
The constellation, Ursa Major nam'd,
Was once his grandam by the mother's side.
Then on his ancestry, and told with pride
The constellation, Ursa Major nam'd,
Was once his grandam by the mother's side.
“O'er these domains,” said he, “our powerful race,
“Longer than I can count, have held the sway:
“Most bears would be contented in my place,
“But life with me wears wearily away.
“Longer than I can count, have held the sway:
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“But life with me wears wearily away.
“Of mere ennui I languish in my prime,
“In cheerless solitude I waste the day;
“And ever since my lady Bruin's time,
“I've been in a sad melancholy way.”
“In cheerless solitude I waste the day;
“And ever since my lady Bruin's time,
“I've been in a sad melancholy way.”
Conversing thus, they reach the cot—the Swain
Thought absence to his home new charms had lent;
His late deserted Lares hails again,
And then, “on hospitable thoughts intent,”
Thought absence to his home new charms had lent;
His late deserted Lares hails again,
And then, “on hospitable thoughts intent,”
Brings from his hoards whate'er he has the best,
Apples and nuts, and honey from the comb,
Sir Bruin feasts, and wants not to be prest,
Happy to find himself so much at home.
Apples and nuts, and honey from the comb,
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Happy to find himself so much at home.
In mutual acts of courtesy and love,
The friends at first liv'd on—time slid away,
And both had vanquish'd ev'ry wish to rove,
For January seem'd as blythe as May.
The friends at first liv'd on—time slid away,
And both had vanquish'd ev'ry wish to rove,
For January seem'd as blythe as May.
But novelty soon lost the power of charming;
The man now wonder'd what strange fancy caught him.
Quoth he, “This creature there is no great harm in,
“But he's not quite the personage I thought him.
The man now wonder'd what strange fancy caught him.
Quoth he, “This creature there is no great harm in,
“But he's not quite the personage I thought him.
“To judge by looks indeed, one might infer,
“My friend was some grave magistrate at least.
“Or some ‘budge Doctor of the Stoic fur,’
“But to speak truth, he's but a stupid beast.”
“My friend was some grave magistrate at least.
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“But to speak truth, he's but a stupid beast.”
Then in his garden labour'd till the hour
When 'twas his custom to indulge in sleep;
And while reposing in his pleached bower,
'Twas Bruin's office watch and ward to keep.
When 'twas his custom to indulge in sleep;
And while reposing in his pleached bower,
'Twas Bruin's office watch and ward to keep.
One morning when the sun shone bright and warm,
And from each cranny rous'd the insect-youth,
With catlike zeal against the buzzing swarm,
He sought to prove himself a friend in truth,
And from each cranny rous'd the insect-youth,
With catlike zeal against the buzzing swarm,
He sought to prove himself a friend in truth,
And vow'd no straggler should escape his grasp,
Who dar'd intrude upon his friend's repose;
When, to excite his wrath, a daring wasp,
Presumptuous settled on the sleeper's nose.
Who dar'd intrude upon his friend's repose;
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Presumptuous settled on the sleeper's nose.
“What insolence!” quoth he, and made a stroke,
Which drove the bold assailant from his station,
Who still renew'd th'attack—it would provoke
A saint! and Bruin growl'd with mere vexation;
Which drove the bold assailant from his station,
Who still renew'd th'attack—it would provoke
A saint! and Bruin growl'd with mere vexation;
Then fir'd with ill-judg'd ardour, aim'd a blow
Of weight to crush the commonwealth of flies;
It laid the winged interloper low,
But his poor comrade wak'd with two black eyes.
Of weight to crush the commonwealth of flies;
It laid the winged interloper low,
But his poor comrade wak'd with two black eyes.
Thus rous'd from sleep, the Swain astound and bleeding,
Kindled with rage; but prudence check'd his arm,
As crouching on the earth the culprit pleading,
Swore on his honour, “that he meant no harm.”
Kindled with rage; but prudence check'd his arm,
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Swore on his honour, “that he meant no harm.”
While in his grief some ursine tears he shed,
And hop'd a well-meant deed had not offended;
“No,” said the sufferer, “when you broke my head,
“I have no doubt 'twas vastly well intended.
And hop'd a well-meant deed had not offended;
“No,” said the sufferer, “when you broke my head,
“I have no doubt 'twas vastly well intended.
“But henceforth, friend of mine, we'll live asunder,
“For love like yours more fatal far than hate is;
“And I most justly suffer for my blunder,
“Who could elect a Bear for my Achates.”
“For love like yours more fatal far than hate is;
“And I most justly suffer for my blunder,
“Who could elect a Bear for my Achates.”
THE END.
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