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 | Verses on several subjects (1802) |  |
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TO JOHN PENN, Esq.
5
WRITTEN IN A SEAT AT STOKE PARK, NEAR THE VICARAGE-HOUSE, THEN INHABITED BY THE AUTHOR, AND COMMANDING A DISTANT VIEW OF WINDSOR CASTLE.
Not with more joy from the loud tempest's roar,
The dangerous billow, and more dangerous shore,
Escap'd,—the wave-worn sailor's grateful hand
Grasps the dear refuge of his native land;
Than I from proud Augusta's walls retreat,
To the dear refuge of that humble seat.
Though lowly be the roof, can I demand
The loftiest mansion grandeur ever plann'd,
When yon fair dome, magnificently great,
Opes wide to me its hospitable gate;
When these bright scenes, in rural grace array'd,
Invite my footsteps to their friendly shade?
Here, while once more my raptur'd fancy woos,
Far from tumultuous din, the sylvan Muse;
Or when the day-star hides his radiant light,
In calm and peaceful sleep I wear the night;
How does my bosom turn with keen disgust
From those foul paths of plunder and of lust;
Where the stern ministers of rigid law
With iron scourge the harden'd ruffian awe;
Where fear alone can blunt fell murder's knife,
And gaols and gibbets watch o'er human life.
The dangerous billow, and more dangerous shore,
Escap'd,—the wave-worn sailor's grateful hand
Grasps the dear refuge of his native land;
6
To the dear refuge of that humble seat.
Though lowly be the roof, can I demand
The loftiest mansion grandeur ever plann'd,
When yon fair dome, magnificently great,
Opes wide to me its hospitable gate;
When these bright scenes, in rural grace array'd,
Invite my footsteps to their friendly shade?
Here, while once more my raptur'd fancy woos,
Far from tumultuous din, the sylvan Muse;
Or when the day-star hides his radiant light,
In calm and peaceful sleep I wear the night;
How does my bosom turn with keen disgust
From those foul paths of plunder and of lust;
Where the stern ministers of rigid law
With iron scourge the harden'd ruffian awe;
7
And gaols and gibbets watch o'er human life.
As o'er yon silver lake I throw my sight,
Beyond imperial Windsor's tower-crown'd height,
Where, in the softening tint of heavenly blue,
Thy distant uplands, Berkshire! bless my view:
In waking dreams my fancy wings her flight,
Delightful region! to thy western site,
Where Isis' waves divide thy rural reign
From the green borders of Oxonia's plain;
And gently rising from the vale below,
Rears lovely Faringdon her breezy brow.
There the mild code of Albion's legal sway,
I whilom saw a generous race obey;
Saw the free yeoman and the sturdy swain,
Guided, not gall'd, by influence' lenient rein;
Not to the magistrate's stern mandate bend,
But feel the judge still temper'd by the friend.
Beyond imperial Windsor's tower-crown'd height,
Where, in the softening tint of heavenly blue,
Thy distant uplands, Berkshire! bless my view:
In waking dreams my fancy wings her flight,
Delightful region! to thy western site,
Where Isis' waves divide thy rural reign
From the green borders of Oxonia's plain;
And gently rising from the vale below,
Rears lovely Faringdon her breezy brow.
There the mild code of Albion's legal sway,
I whilom saw a generous race obey;
Saw the free yeoman and the sturdy swain,
Guided, not gall'd, by influence' lenient rein;
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But feel the judge still temper'd by the friend.
Why, driven by wild ambition's veering gale,
Why did I quit, alas! my native vale,
'Mid senates and 'mid camps in vain to find
Joys that could rival those I left behind,
Where, grasping at expense I ill could bear,
I saw my farms and woodlands melt to air?—
Yet,—when, by vengeance arm'd, the Gallic host
With bloody inroad threaten'd Albion's coast;
Her veteran warriors o'er the Atlantic main,
Stemming rebellion's bloody surge in vain;
Her recreant fleet swept from her guardian flood;
Manly and firm, while every Briton stood,
Array'd in arms the impending storm defied,
And frown'd confusion on invasion's pride;—
Could I, long train'd in peace, my sword now yield,
When war's loud clarion call'd me to the field?
Or when two factions, whose contention hurl'd
The throne of Britain from the western world,
We saw at length in treacherous compact meet,
To make destruction's horrid work complete;
While patriot George, in Freedom's happy hour,
Appeal'd to England from her Senate's power;
While virtuous youth a people's suffrage won,
And Chatham's soul reviv'd in Chatham's son:
Then as on me, with kind and partial view,
Their favouring eyes the Berkshire yeomen threw;
Rejecting those, who, dup'd by faction's slave,
Turn'd 'gainst themselves the sacred trust they gave;
Could I refuse of Fame the proudest bough,
That e'er can twine around a Briton's brow?—
Friends and companions of my earliest youth,
The ingenuous days of unsuspecting truth;
Who knew to read each feeling of a heart,
That scorn'd the flatt'ring suppliant's servile art;
Of trust conferr'd by you, is still impress'd
The fond remembrance on this grateful breast;—
The proud remembrance!—that no selfish aim
Stain'd the fair wreath you gave of public fame:
That when my hands restor'd the splendid load
Of delegated power your choice bestow'd,
I won the noblest trophy man could raise,
My conduct sanction'd by your fav'ring praise .
Why did I quit, alas! my native vale,
'Mid senates and 'mid camps in vain to find
Joys that could rival those I left behind,
Where, grasping at expense I ill could bear,
I saw my farms and woodlands melt to air?—
Yet,—when, by vengeance arm'd, the Gallic host
With bloody inroad threaten'd Albion's coast;
Her veteran warriors o'er the Atlantic main,
Stemming rebellion's bloody surge in vain;
Her recreant fleet swept from her guardian flood;
Manly and firm, while every Briton stood,
Array'd in arms the impending storm defied,
And frown'd confusion on invasion's pride;—
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When war's loud clarion call'd me to the field?
Or when two factions, whose contention hurl'd
The throne of Britain from the western world,
We saw at length in treacherous compact meet,
To make destruction's horrid work complete;
While patriot George, in Freedom's happy hour,
Appeal'd to England from her Senate's power;
While virtuous youth a people's suffrage won,
And Chatham's soul reviv'd in Chatham's son:
Then as on me, with kind and partial view,
Their favouring eyes the Berkshire yeomen threw;
Rejecting those, who, dup'd by faction's slave,
Turn'd 'gainst themselves the sacred trust they gave;
Could I refuse of Fame the proudest bough,
That e'er can twine around a Briton's brow?—
10
The ingenuous days of unsuspecting truth;
Who knew to read each feeling of a heart,
That scorn'd the flatt'ring suppliant's servile art;
Of trust conferr'd by you, is still impress'd
The fond remembrance on this grateful breast;—
The proud remembrance!—that no selfish aim
Stain'd the fair wreath you gave of public fame:
That when my hands restor'd the splendid load
Of delegated power your choice bestow'd,
I won the noblest trophy man could raise,
My conduct sanction'd by your fav'ring praise .
11
But say, did all who led their native swains,
Waste while they guarded their paternal plains?
All whom their country chose with partial eye,
The sacred trust with mortgag'd manors buy?
Say, must of Prudence' voice, the warning sound,
In warm debates and shouts of war be drown'd?
Waste while they guarded their paternal plains?
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The sacred trust with mortgag'd manors buy?
Say, must of Prudence' voice, the warning sound,
In warm debates and shouts of war be drown'd?
I feel the just reproof—but, ah! how few
The golden path that Prudence points pursue!
Who know to join in Wisdom's sacred band,
The head retentive with the liberal hand;
Who safe their barks from Avarice' quicksands keep,
And the dire vortex of Profusion's deep.
When such I view, who, with forejudging care,
Know how to scatter, and know when to spare;
Who by no selfish passion led aside,
Or the false glare of ostentatious pride;
No pleasure e'er in vain expense can find,
While lavish for the good of human kind;
Whose time, whose care, whose bounties now are given
Free and extensive as the rains of Heaven;
Now like the lucid streams that silent flow,
Sooth by their healing power domestic woe:
Such worth I bless as God's best, noblest boon,
And in the glorious portrait hail Colquhoun!
The golden path that Prudence points pursue!
Who know to join in Wisdom's sacred band,
The head retentive with the liberal hand;
Who safe their barks from Avarice' quicksands keep,
And the dire vortex of Profusion's deep.
When such I view, who, with forejudging care,
Know how to scatter, and know when to spare;
Who by no selfish passion led aside,
Or the false glare of ostentatious pride;
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While lavish for the good of human kind;
Whose time, whose care, whose bounties now are given
Free and extensive as the rains of Heaven;
Now like the lucid streams that silent flow,
Sooth by their healing power domestic woe:
Such worth I bless as God's best, noblest boon,
And in the glorious portrait hail Colquhoun!
Such, Prudence! when thy form; with aching breast
I mourn my wand'rings from thy wise behest;
But from thy shape in worldly garb array'd,
I cannot mourn my youthful footsteps stray'd;
Nor, though the frowns of Fortune I endure,
Lament each cause that made, that kept me poor.
I can't regret the promise that I gave
To smooth a parent's passage to the grave;
Less, that my heart fulfill'd the vow it made,
And sav'd his memory from the curse of trade:
I can't regret the happy hour that led
Not wealth, but beauty, to my bridal bed;
Not bart'ring for a plain and portion'd wife,
The dearest bliss that sweetens human life.
I mourn my wand'rings from thy wise behest;
But from thy shape in worldly garb array'd,
I cannot mourn my youthful footsteps stray'd;
Nor, though the frowns of Fortune I endure,
Lament each cause that made, that kept me poor.
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To smooth a parent's passage to the grave;
Less, that my heart fulfill'd the vow it made,
And sav'd his memory from the curse of trade:
I can't regret the happy hour that led
Not wealth, but beauty, to my bridal bed;
Not bart'ring for a plain and portion'd wife,
The dearest bliss that sweetens human life.
Though more than fifty winters tame the blood
Now circling through my veins in calmer flood;
Yet would I rather now, with wearying stroke,
Hew the hard rock, or fell the stubborn oak,
Than buy of wealth and pow'r the envied charms,
By clasping age or foulness in my arms.
But when I see, in youth and vigour warm,
A sordid wretch fly Beauty's angel form;
And sacrifice, for wild Ambition's flight,
To coldness and disgust each tedious night,
I turn from him with Scorn's indignant smile,
Meanest of mean, and vilest of the vile,
'Mid scenes less infamous to seek relief
In the loose pandar, and the midnight thief.
Now circling through my veins in calmer flood;
Yet would I rather now, with wearying stroke,
Hew the hard rock, or fell the stubborn oak,
Than buy of wealth and pow'r the envied charms,
By clasping age or foulness in my arms.
But when I see, in youth and vigour warm,
A sordid wretch fly Beauty's angel form;
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To coldness and disgust each tedious night,
I turn from him with Scorn's indignant smile,
Meanest of mean, and vilest of the vile,
'Mid scenes less infamous to seek relief
In the loose pandar, and the midnight thief.
Nor can I much regret the idle days
When Fancy led me through her fairy maze;
Majestic Science, when I gravely woo'd,
Or sported with the Muse in frolic mood:
Though, as 'mid visionary scenes I stray'd,
I saw life's real prospects round me fade;
While with unclouded conscience I can see
A life from guilt, if not from folly free.
Ne'er did my hopes, my soul, my fortune lie
On the fleet courser or the rolling dye:
And though from early youth's first dawning hour,
Still tremblingly alive to beauty's power,
Ne'er did my art seduce a trusting maid,
Ne'er has my purse in shameful forfeit paid
A wife dishonour'd and a friend betray'd.
When Fancy led me through her fairy maze;
Majestic Science, when I gravely woo'd,
Or sported with the Muse in frolic mood:
Though, as 'mid visionary scenes I stray'd,
I saw life's real prospects round me fade;
While with unclouded conscience I can see
A life from guilt, if not from folly free.
Ne'er did my hopes, my soul, my fortune lie
On the fleet courser or the rolling dye:
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Still tremblingly alive to beauty's power,
Ne'er did my art seduce a trusting maid,
Ne'er has my purse in shameful forfeit paid
A wife dishonour'd and a friend betray'd.
Then let me not with sorrowing eye pursue
Past scenes, which long have vanish'd from my view;
But ere of life the fleeting shadows close,
Thankful receive what Fortune yet bestows.
And you, my gen'rous friend, whose princely seat
Gives me from noise and strife a short retreat;
Where I can breathe again the fragrant air,
While days of leisure sweeten months of care;
Spring's blushing flowers, and Summer's fruits behold,
And Autumn's stores of vegetable gold;
Accept these votive numbers, nor refuse
The heartfelt offering of a grateful Muse;
Thanks from a heart, which, while it boasts with pride,
A line to patriots, nobles, kings, allied;
Is prouder yet in sterling worth to shine,
Stamp'd by the friendship of a mind like thine.
Past scenes, which long have vanish'd from my view;
But ere of life the fleeting shadows close,
Thankful receive what Fortune yet bestows.
And you, my gen'rous friend, whose princely seat
Gives me from noise and strife a short retreat;
Where I can breathe again the fragrant air,
While days of leisure sweeten months of care;
Spring's blushing flowers, and Summer's fruits behold,
And Autumn's stores of vegetable gold;
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The heartfelt offering of a grateful Muse;
Thanks from a heart, which, while it boasts with pride,
A line to patriots, nobles, kings, allied;
Is prouder yet in sterling worth to shine,
Stamp'd by the friendship of a mind like thine.
But now in public rapture's general sound,
Be private joy and private sorrows drown'd;
Behold aloft, on Windsor's stately brow ,
Of Britain's isles the Imperial banner flow;
While shouting Berkshire hails Britannia's Lord,
In peace, in triumph, and in health restor'd.—
Dear and parental fields! while swelling Fame
To earth's remotest regions wafts his name;
Tells when Oppression shook her iron mace
In horrid menace o'er the human race,
His dauntless arm and energetic mind
The guardian Ægis rear'd, and sav'd mankind:
You shall behold him in your verdant seat,
From toils of empire and of war retreat
To the mild charities of social life,
The generous offspring, and the faithful wife;
Shall see sons brave, and daughters chaste and fair,
A duteous circle round the royal pair;
See private worth by sceptred greatness shown,
And bliss domestic flourish round a throne.
Be private joy and private sorrows drown'd;
Behold aloft, on Windsor's stately brow ,
Of Britain's isles the Imperial banner flow;
While shouting Berkshire hails Britannia's Lord,
In peace, in triumph, and in health restor'd.—
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To earth's remotest regions wafts his name;
Tells when Oppression shook her iron mace
In horrid menace o'er the human race,
His dauntless arm and energetic mind
The guardian Ægis rear'd, and sav'd mankind:
You shall behold him in your verdant seat,
From toils of empire and of war retreat
To the mild charities of social life,
The generous offspring, and the faithful wife;
Shall see sons brave, and daughters chaste and fair,
A duteous circle round the royal pair;
See private worth by sceptred greatness shown,
And bliss domestic flourish round a throne.
If the Author should be censured for vanity because he inserts the following testimony of his constituents' approbation of his conduct, he pleads guilty to the charge: it is a distinction he shall be vain of to the latest moment of his existence.
From the Reading Paper, June 21, 1790.
“At a meeting of the gentlemen, clergy, and freeholders of the county of Berks, held at the Town Hall in Reading, the 19th of June 1790;
“Alexander Cobham, Esq. Sheriff, in the Chair;
“Resolved, That Henry James Pye and George Vansittart, Esqrs. by their conduct in Parliament, have acted in conformity with the wishes and sentiments of their constituents.
“Resolved, That the thanks of this county be given to Henry James Pye and George Vansittart, Esqrs. our late worthy representatives, for their unremitting attention to the discharge of their duty in Parliament, and for having acted in conformity with the general wishes and sentiments of their constituents; and to express our sincere regret that we are about to lose the able services of Mr. Pye, the remembrance of which will long remain impressed on the hearts of the freeholders of Berkshire.”
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MORE OF THE SEQUEL OF THE LONG STORY.
DISCOVERED IN THE YEAR 1801 .
Here, sudden from the shadowy band,
A spruce and gallant spirit started;
Trim were his whiskers, white his hand,
Adonis-form'd, and lion-hearted.
A spruce and gallant spirit started;
Trim were his whiskers, white his hand,
Adonis-form'd, and lion-hearted.
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Victor of ladies and of foes,
The tilt-yard trembled at his lance;
Soft madrigals he could compose,
Could strike the lute and lead the dance.
The tilt-yard trembled at his lance;
Soft madrigals he could compose,
Could strike the lute and lead the dance.
In courts, or camps, where'er he mov'd,
Respect and fame his steps attend;
Honour'd by kings, by beauties lov'd,
Eliza's subject, Sydney's friend.
Respect and fame his steps attend;
Honour'd by kings, by beauties lov'd,
Eliza's subject, Sydney's friend.
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Thus, in the middle of his prosing,
He cuts the Lord Chief Justice short:
“Friend Coke, you set the audience dozing;
“'T is time, Sir, to adjourn the court.
He cuts the Lord Chief Justice short:
“Friend Coke, you set the audience dozing;
“'T is time, Sir, to adjourn the court.
“Bards can to fable truth impart,
“Embellish'd by poetic diction;
“You, lawyers, have the happier art,
“To make ev'n truth appear a fiction.
“Embellish'd by poetic diction;
“You, lawyers, have the happier art,
“To make ev'n truth appear a fiction.
“Though, gentle Bard! no votive lay
“Shall mark where rests thy hallow'd dust;
“Though solemn fabrics far away
“Receive thy consecrated bust:
“Shall mark where rests thy hallow'd dust;
“Though solemn fabrics far away
“Receive thy consecrated bust:
“Yet know a patron shall arise,
“Sprung from high chiefs of Albion's band;
“From sages sprung, who humanize
“With arts of peace a savage land.
“Sprung from high chiefs of Albion's band;
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“With arts of peace a savage land.
“He, 'mid these scenes whose shades among
“The warbling Muses caught thine ear,
“Worthy the poet and the song,
“A monumental shrine shall rear.
“The warbling Muses caught thine ear,
“Worthy the poet and the song,
“A monumental shrine shall rear.
“Near, are the village fathers laid,
“Recorded in thy plaintive strain,
“Near, Eton's academic shade,
“And lofty Windsor's proud domain.
“Recorded in thy plaintive strain,
“Near, Eton's academic shade,
“And lofty Windsor's proud domain.
“Here, when the moon's wan lustre pours
“A trembling radiance o'er the grove,
“Or in pale twilight's glimmering hours,
“Thy gentle spirit oft shall rove.
“A trembling radiance o'er the grove,
“Or in pale twilight's glimmering hours,
“Thy gentle spirit oft shall rove.
52
“Not like the goblins grim that scare
“The maidens as they come from milking,
“And render useless Jefford's care,
“Her hopes of cream and custard bilking:
“The maidens as they come from milking,
“And render useless Jefford's care,
“Her hopes of cream and custard bilking:
“Mild as the Sylphs that gently rise,
“That glide in airy form along;
“And, unobserv'd by vulgar eyes,
“Seen only by the man of song.
“That glide in airy form along;
“And, unobserv'd by vulgar eyes,
“Seen only by the man of song.
“The massy roofs, the embattled wall,
“That seem the assaults of Time to scorn,
“Shall fall—but glorious in their fall,
“With ruin'd state the scene adorn.
“That seem the assaults of Time to scorn,
“Shall fall—but glorious in their fall,
“With ruin'd state the scene adorn.
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“While on yon upland's breezy height,
“Design'd by classic Wyatt's taste,
“A polish'd dome shall charm the sight,
“With Græcia's purest orders grac'd:
“Design'd by classic Wyatt's taste,
“A polish'd dome shall charm the sight,
“With Græcia's purest orders grac'd:
“And in the placid wave below,
“That seems through shadowy dells to glide,
“With mild refulgence shall it glow,
“Reflected in the silver tide.
“That seems through shadowy dells to glide,
“With mild refulgence shall it glow,
“Reflected in the silver tide.
“The walls excluding every view,
“The walks by line and compass laid,
“Clipt to unsightly shape the yew,
“And cabinets of tonsile shade,
“The walks by line and compass laid,
“Clipt to unsightly shape the yew,
“And cabinets of tonsile shade,
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“Shall vanish all—for 'mid these seats
“Lo! a magician waves the wand;
“And starch formality retreats
“From Albion's cultivated land.
“Lo! a magician waves the wand;
“And starch formality retreats
“From Albion's cultivated land.
“Thro' fragrant shrubs, thro' plants unknown,
“From climes yet undiscover'd brought,
“Smooth winds the undulating zone,
“As nature had its progress taught.
“From climes yet undiscover'd brought,
“Smooth winds the undulating zone,
“As nature had its progress taught.
“Nor shall, my Lord Chief Justice, you
“The change with envious eye discerning,
“Your legal worth neglected view—
“For, (friend of universal learning,
“The change with envious eye discerning,
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“For, (friend of universal learning,
“Patron of worth in every form,
“Revering happy Albion's laws,
“With patriot ardour nobly warm,
“Zealous in temperate Freedom's cause;)
“Revering happy Albion's laws,
“With patriot ardour nobly warm,
“Zealous in temperate Freedom's cause;)
“The princely owner's liberal hand
“Shall to thy name a column raise,
‘And all who tread this fairy land,
“As on its former lord they gaze,
“Shall to thy name a column raise,
‘And all who tread this fairy land,
“As on its former lord they gaze,
“Shall, while of taste this lov'd abode,
“With never-wearied step they trace,
“Bless the true votary of that code
“Which guards what every Muse has grac'd.”
“With never-wearied step they trace,
“Bless the true votary of that code
“Which guards what every Muse has grac'd.”
This is a continuation of the addition to Gray's Long Story, printed in the last edition of Mr. Penn's Poems.
This courteous ghost is supposed to be that of Sir George Fermor, an ancestor of the present proprietor of Stoke Park; he was a particular friend of Sir Philip Sydney, with whom he served in the Netherlands. He entertained James I. and his Queen the first time they met in England, at the seat of his family at Easton Neston, in Northamptonshire. (See Collins's Peerage, under the title of ‘Earl of Pomfret.’)
The grounds at Stoke Park were modernised about thirty years ago, by Richmond, on a plan not much dissimilar from one of Brown's, who was gardener to Lady Cobham at the time our poet was brought before her Ladyship, as suggested in the Long Story.
56
VERSES SENT TO THE CORPS OF WANTAGE VOLUNTEER CAVALRY ON THEIR OFFERING THEIR SERVICES IN ANY PART OF THE KINGDOM DURING THE ALARM OF AN INVASION.
When loud Invasion with infuriate roar,With boastful threatening shakes Britannia's shore;
Should Alfred turn his sainted eyes to earth,
And view the hallow'd seats that gave him birth,
How would he praise the patriot worth that calls
Her manly sons from Vinitagia's walls!
57
No hostile power can waste their inland plains,
When Gallia arms and injur'd Albion bleeds,
Wherever glory points and valour leads,
Zealous from each domestic bliss they go
To meet on distant fields their country's foe,
Feeling their monarch's sacred rights their own,
Their swords his bulwark, and their heart his throne.
58
PROLOGUE TO THE SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV.
AS ALTERED FROM SHAKESPEAR, BY THE REV. DR. VALPY, AND PERFORMED BY THE YOUNG GENTLEMEN OF READING SCHOOL.
To-night our scene once more from Shakespear's page
Shows the dire factions of a former age,
Shows when the noble fierce, and prelate proud,
To rash rebellion urg'd the maddening crowd,
Perfidious Gaul in treacherous league combin'd,
Sedition's banners with her legions join'd.—
In vain she join'd—in vain she brought relief,
On Cambria's shores to Cambria's rebel chief;
From the steep mountain's height in vain, Glendower
Threw many a glance to meet the hostile power;
No recreant Briton join'd the invading train,
Borne back disgraceful on the refluent main.—
Oh! ever may Britannia's naval host
Drive fell Invasion from her happy coast!
But should a warlike foe be wafted o'er
By favouring tempests to our sea-girt shore,
An adamantine fortress would he find
In every British arm and British mind;
The threatening storm would faction's fire assuage,
And general danger kindle general rage.
Ev'n age would glow with youthful ardour warm,
And manhood's vigour nerve the stripling's arm;
Vengeance would fiercer blaze at Beauty's tear,
And dauntless courage spring from female fear.
Shows the dire factions of a former age,
Shows when the noble fierce, and prelate proud,
To rash rebellion urg'd the maddening crowd,
Perfidious Gaul in treacherous league combin'd,
Sedition's banners with her legions join'd.—
59
On Cambria's shores to Cambria's rebel chief;
From the steep mountain's height in vain, Glendower
Threw many a glance to meet the hostile power;
No recreant Briton join'd the invading train,
Borne back disgraceful on the refluent main.—
Oh! ever may Britannia's naval host
Drive fell Invasion from her happy coast!
But should a warlike foe be wafted o'er
By favouring tempests to our sea-girt shore,
An adamantine fortress would he find
In every British arm and British mind;
The threatening storm would faction's fire assuage,
And general danger kindle general rage.
Ev'n age would glow with youthful ardour warm,
And manhood's vigour nerve the stripling's arm;
60
And dauntless courage spring from female fear.
Such ever be of Albion's sons the pride,
When swells of ruthless war the sanguine tide.—
But, lo! where radiant through the sinking storm
Shines, of celestial Peace the seraph form;
And, the green laurel from his brow unbound,
See with the olive wreath our Sovereign crown'd,
While grateful Europe owns her states restor'd
To peace and safety by his victor sword.
Beneath her palm Judea's tears no more
Barbarian conquest's cruel sway deplore.
Nile views no longer his redundant stream
With Desolation's iron harvests gleam;
No longer Lusitania's vine-clad coast
Shrinks from the Gallic and the Iberian host.
Hesperia smiles through all her fragrant vales,
And saving Albion's guardian genius hails!
While her proud city, whose imperial sway
A subject world once gloried to obey,
Like Veia's conqueror sees our friendly powers
Free from the Gallic yoke her lofty towers.
When swells of ruthless war the sanguine tide.—
But, lo! where radiant through the sinking storm
Shines, of celestial Peace the seraph form;
And, the green laurel from his brow unbound,
See with the olive wreath our Sovereign crown'd,
While grateful Europe owns her states restor'd
To peace and safety by his victor sword.
Beneath her palm Judea's tears no more
Barbarian conquest's cruel sway deplore.
Nile views no longer his redundant stream
With Desolation's iron harvests gleam;
No longer Lusitania's vine-clad coast
Shrinks from the Gallic and the Iberian host.
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And saving Albion's guardian genius hails!
While her proud city, whose imperial sway
A subject world once gloried to obey,
Like Veia's conqueror sees our friendly powers
Free from the Gallic yoke her lofty towers.
As happy England with exulting voice
Hails either statesman of her monarch's choice,
Who drove, with arm undaunted, Glory's car
Through the loud thunder of unequal war,
Or bade the fury of the battle cease,
And reach'd the blest abode of Fame and Peace:
“While Concord blesses with celestial smiles
“The favour'd empire of the British isles,”
Berkshire! tho' Honour twines the fairest bough
To grace her Addington's illustrious brow,
Proud that awhile her genial fields could claim,
Enroll'd among her sons his glorious name;
His absence long shall mourn.—Though scenes more bright,
And plains more fertile, now may charm his sight;
Ne'er shall he find, through all the race of earth,
Bosoms more conscious of his patriot worth.
Hails either statesman of her monarch's choice,
Who drove, with arm undaunted, Glory's car
Through the loud thunder of unequal war,
Or bade the fury of the battle cease,
And reach'd the blest abode of Fame and Peace:
“While Concord blesses with celestial smiles
“The favour'd empire of the British isles,”
Berkshire! tho' Honour twines the fairest bough
To grace her Addington's illustrious brow,
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Enroll'd among her sons his glorious name;
His absence long shall mourn.—Though scenes more bright,
And plains more fertile, now may charm his sight;
Ne'er shall he find, through all the race of earth,
Bosoms more conscious of his patriot worth.
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OCTOBER AND MAY.
ADDRESSED TO SAMUEL JAMES ARNOLD, Esq.
“Behold, with mild and matron mien,
“With sober eye, and brow serene,
“October sweep along;
“Bright are her groves with vivid dyes,
“Refulgent beam her cloudless skies,
“And sweet her red-breast's song.
“With sober eye, and brow serene,
“October sweep along;
“Bright are her groves with vivid dyes,
“Refulgent beam her cloudless skies,
“And sweet her red-breast's song.
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“Her temper bland, no passions sway,
“The same to-morrow as to-day,
“Her tints so soft, so warm,
“That Painting, with enraptur'd view,
“Hangs o'er each variegated hue,
“And copies every charm.
“The same to-morrow as to-day,
“Her tints so soft, so warm,
“That Painting, with enraptur'd view,
“Hangs o'er each variegated hue,
“And copies every charm.
“Then let the Muse's thrilling lyre
“To Painting join its silver wire,
“And hail October's fame;
“Nor let that peevish vixen May,
“Whose frowns and tears deform the day,
“Her notes for ever claim.”
“To Painting join its silver wire,
“And hail October's fame;
“Nor let that peevish vixen May,
“Whose frowns and tears deform the day,
“Her notes for ever claim.”
Why, faith! there's truth in what you say:
Yet poets love the young and gay;—
Though fickle May is teasing,
Though frowns and tears obscure her smiles,
In spite of all her pouting wiles
The little vixen's pleasing.
Yet poets love the young and gay;—
Though fickle May is teasing,
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In spite of all her pouting wiles
The little vixen's pleasing.
Then when she smiles, she smiles so sweet,
Such colours and such perfumes meet,
Such health is in her hue;
Such odours from her bosom breathe,
That poets give to her the wreath,
Who smell, as well as view.
Such colours and such perfumes meet,
Such health is in her hue;
Such odours from her bosom breathe,
That poets give to her the wreath,
Who smell, as well as view.
Besides, you painters have the art,
Charms artificial to impart,
And make the wrinkle sleek.
Though red the blushing hawthorn shine,
To me it looks like deep carmine
Upon a faded cheek.
Charms artificial to impart,
And make the wrinkle sleek.
Though red the blushing hawthorn shine,
To me it looks like deep carmine
Upon a faded cheek.
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See how the hawthorn snowy blooms;
Its scent the passing gale perfumes:
Mark how the lilac blows—
Profuse while Flora o'er the meads,
Where'er the laughing goddess treads,
Her fragrant burden throws.
Its scent the passing gale perfumes:
Mark how the lilac blows—
Profuse while Flora o'er the meads,
Where'er the laughing goddess treads,
Her fragrant burden throws.
“But Spring's gay landscape shows too bright
“Masses of vegetable white,
“And light unvaried green;”—
Can then the artist's partial eye
No charm in Nature's works descry,
Unless he paint the scene?
“Masses of vegetable white,
“And light unvaried green;”—
Can then the artist's partial eye
No charm in Nature's works descry,
Unless he paint the scene?
The rugged brow, the form uncouth,
Will more than beauty or than youth
The painter's skill engage;
But will from youth and beauty's charms
The painter fly, and in his arms
Clasp ugliness and age?
Will more than beauty or than youth
The painter's skill engage;
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The painter fly, and in his arms
Clasp ugliness and age?
Light ills, whence comic laughter flows,
And tragedy's severer woes,
Are favourites of the Muse;
But days replete with ease and joy,
Unting'd by aught of pain's alloy,
In real life we choose.
And tragedy's severer woes,
Are favourites of the Muse;
But days replete with ease and joy,
Unting'd by aught of pain's alloy,
In real life we choose.
Say, can the robin's plaintive note
Mate Philomela's warbling throat
Which nightly charms the grove;
Or full and sweet, the feather'd throng,
Who loudly chant the matin song
Of ecstacy and love?
Mate Philomela's warbling throat
Which nightly charms the grove;
Or full and sweet, the feather'd throng,
Who loudly chant the matin song
Of ecstacy and love?
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And bounding see in sportive dance,
Frolic the summer months advance,
Led on by youthful May;
While on October's solemn state
The hours of dreary winter wait,
The heralds of decay.
Frolic the summer months advance,
Led on by youthful May;
While on October's solemn state
The hours of dreary winter wait,
The heralds of decay.
The frowning brow, the tearful eye
Of blooming May shall swiftly fly,
And every cloud be past;
While on October's richest hue
Doubtful we throw an anxious view,
And fear each smile her last.
Of blooming May shall swiftly fly,
And every cloud be past;
While on October's richest hue
Doubtful we throw an anxious view,
And fear each smile her last.
But you, my friend, whose gifted mind,
In friendly union fondly join'd,
The sister arts inspire;
Who know alike with skilful hand
The glowing pencil to command,
And strike the sacred lyre,
In friendly union fondly join'd,
The sister arts inspire;
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The glowing pencil to command,
And strike the sacred lyre,
Will now mild Autumn's various dyes,
His mellow tints, and purple skies,
With plastic hand pourtray;
Now taste the fragrant breath of Spring,
Her sylvan chorus join, and sing
The ambrosial sweets of May.
His mellow tints, and purple skies,
With plastic hand pourtray;
Now taste the fragrant breath of Spring,
Her sylvan chorus join, and sing
The ambrosial sweets of May.
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EPITAPH ON A CHILD.
Cruel the pang to hear the struggling sigh,Watch o'er the faded cheek and closing eye;
See infant innocence with parting breath
Its weeping parents bless, and smile in death.—
Check your vain tears!—Lo! He who “walk'd the wave,”
Triumphant rising from the vanquish'd grave,
To man, by blood celestial ransom'd, cries,
He lives, for ever lives, in Me who dies.
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TWO SONNETS, WRITTEN AT CLIEFDEN SPRING.
SONNET I.
[Majestic Thames, whose ample current flows]
Majestic Thames, whose ample current flows,The wood reflecting in its silver tide,
Which, hanging from the hills that grace thy side,
O'er this clear fount its massy foliage throws;
Here on thy brink my limbs again repose:
Yet though thy waves Augusta's towers divide,
Or by the foot of princely Windsor glide;
Still with more heartfelt joy my bosom glows,
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Where first I woo'd the witching powers of song,
As wrapt in fancy's sweet delusive dream,
I desultory rov'd her banks along,
Nor ask'd a brighter wreath to grace my theme,
Than humbly grew her willowy shades among.
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SONNET II.
[Here from the rifted rock, where boldly rise]
Here from the rifted rock, where boldly riseThe ilex shining with perennial green,
The gloomy pine, the beech's vivid skreen,
Hoar oaks that throw their branches to the skies;
While 'mid the boles the zephyr gently sighs,
And woodbines sweet, and lychen, creep between,
Amid the stillness of the sylvan scene,
Tranquil the silver-bosom'd Naiad lies;
While from her urn the rills redundant glide,
Where his broad flood majestic Thames displays.
Nor thou with haughty look, Imperial Tide,
Upon the clear though scanty tribute gaze;
Ne'er will the powers of Heaven itself deride
The humblest gift the unsullied bosom pays.
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THE VINE.
[_]
Many years ago, when I became first acquainted with the botanical system of Linnæus, I had some thoughts of writing a poem on the subject. The plan that suggested itself to me was, to select some conspicuous plant from each of the orders, to consider the sexual distinctions as lovers, and the flower as the nuptial pavilion. The example of original imagery, and correct and splendid versification, exhibited in Dr. Darwin's Loves of the Plants, precluded every idea of competition, and I dropped all thoughts of the subject. But part of my summer amusement at
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See Vitis thick her small pavilions spread.
Beneath each silken veil, with studious care
Five amorous brothers woo one yielding fair;
From the sweet raptures of the fond embrace,
Soon springs a lovely and a generous race:
In purple bright, or lucid verdure clad,
The passer's eye the groups luxuriant glad;
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Spreads a rich tincture of celestial blue.
Sweet to the taste, the swelling orbs produce
A rich profusion of ambrosial juice;
Mantling and clear, man sees the beverage shine,
And hails with grateful voice the Power of Wine.
Fair and delicious boon of favouring Heaven,
To human kind the balm of sorrow given!
By this inspir'd, behold on blither wing
Soar the young Joys, the Muses sweeter sing;
With lighter step the dancing Graces move,
And fiercer burns the golden lamp of love.
But, thoughtless man! beware of foul excess,
Nor draw a curse where Heaven design'd to bless.
Then flies the genial draught that cheer'd the soul,
And fatal poison drugs the intemperate bowl;
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The serpents writhe of anguish and of death,
Shoots pale disease along the languid frame,
And passion's burning fiends the veins inflame.
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THE LAST ELEGY OF THE THIRD BOOK OF TIBULLUS.
[_]
A good translation of the Love Elegies of Tibullus has been long a desideratum in English literature. That by Dr. Granger is so ill done, that one would hardly conceive it the work of the same pen which produced the Ode to Solitude.
Hammond's Elegies can by no means be considered as imitations of Tibullus, but as fragments of the best possible specimen of translation; and if
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The following elegy has always struck me as peculiarly beautiful, exhibiting the vain attempts of a lover to get rid of his passion by the aid of wine, and which Dr. Granger has entirely lost by making it a dialogue between the lover and one of his jolly companions: he also adds, that the contest ends in the triumph of wine over love; but I think he who runs may read the very reverse in every line; even in the two last lines the poet upbraids himself for his absence of mind, and his neglect of the accustomed ceremony of the banquet.
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Propitious Bacchus come—so round thy brow
Be with the mystic vine the ivy wove;
Come, kindly come, and heal thy suppliant's woe:
Oft sinks beneath thy arm the power of love.
Be with the mystic vine the ivy wove;
Come, kindly come, and heal thy suppliant's woe:
Oft sinks beneath thy arm the power of love.
Fill, fill, dear youth, the mantling goblet high,
Pour the Falernian juice with liberal hand;
Fly hence ye heart-felt cares, ye sorrows fly,
Fly by the Delian god's white pinions fann'd.
Pour the Falernian juice with liberal hand;
Fly hence ye heart-felt cares, ye sorrows fly,
Fly by the Delian god's white pinions fann'd.
Indulge, my friends, indulge my fond design,
Nor fear to follow where I lead the way;
If any scorn the jovial strife of wine,
Still may his hopes some treacherous nymph betray!
Nor fear to follow where I lead the way;
If any scorn the jovial strife of wine,
Still may his hopes some treacherous nymph betray!
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The jolly god the generous breast inflames,
To savage souls can gentle thoughts impart;
The Libyan pard and yellow lion tames,
And bows to beauty's sway the stubborn heart.
To savage souls can gentle thoughts impart;
The Libyan pard and yellow lion tames,
And bows to beauty's sway the stubborn heart.
All this, and more, can Love—But generous wine
We ask—ah! whom can empty bowls delight?
Just is the god to those who grace his shrine
With the full goblet in the festal rite.
We ask—ah! whom can empty bowls delight?
Just is the god to those who grace his shrine
With the full goblet in the festal rite.
He comes with wrath, with vengeance fir'd—assuage
His glowing ire; swift let the vintage flow:
How fierce his anger, and how dire his rage,
The bleeding spoils of mad Agave show.
His glowing ire; swift let the vintage flow:
How fierce his anger, and how dire his rage,
The bleeding spoils of mad Agave show.
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Far, far from us such fear.—But let my fair,
My perjur'd fair, alone his vengeance find:
What have I wish'd? ah! may the frantic prayer
Be scatter'd wide before the driving wind!
My perjur'd fair, alone his vengeance find:
What have I wish'd? ah! may the frantic prayer
Be scatter'd wide before the driving wind!
Ah, dear Neæra! though I'm lov'd no more,
May bliss and smiling fortune wait on thee;
While social joys my banish'd peace restore,
And years of storm one tranquil moment see.
May bliss and smiling fortune wait on thee;
While social joys my banish'd peace restore,
And years of storm one tranquil moment see.
'Tis hard with mirth our sufferings to beguile,
'Tis hard to trifle with an aching breast;
Ill sits on sorrow's lip the labour'd smile,
Ill sounds to pensive ears the drunken jest.
'Tis hard to trifle with an aching breast;
Ill sits on sorrow's lip the labour'd smile,
Ill sounds to pensive ears the drunken jest.
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Why do I weep? Disgraceful cares, away!
Insult the cheerful god with tears no more;
He lenient heal'd the Cretan maid, who lay
By Theseus left upon a lonely shore.
Insult the cheerful god with tears no more;
He lenient heal'd the Cretan maid, who lay
By Theseus left upon a lonely shore.
Daughter of Minos! thus Catullus sung;
Whose learned strains thy lover's crimes have shown:
Happy, ye youths who hear my warning tongue,
And by another's sufferings heal your own.
Whose learned strains thy lover's crimes have shown:
Happy, ye youths who hear my warning tongue,
And by another's sufferings heal your own.
No—While her snowy arms were round you twin'd,
Tho' her fond tongue the softest accents spoke;
Tho' by her eyes she swear, tho' her false mind
The Queen of Heaven and Queen of Love invoke,
Tho' her fond tongue the softest accents spoke;
Tho' by her eyes she swear, tho' her false mind
The Queen of Heaven and Queen of Love invoke,
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Believe her not;—for to the viewless air
Gives laughing Jove the perjuries of love.—
Why dwell for ever on my perjur'd fair?
Far, far away ye words of anguish move!
Gives laughing Jove the perjuries of love.—
Why dwell for ever on my perjur'd fair?
Far, far away ye words of anguish move!
Ah! how I long with thee the winter night,
With thee the summer's livelong day to wear!
Perfidious maid! a love so true to slight;
Perfidious maid! yet, though perfidious, dear.
With thee the summer's livelong day to wear!
Perfidious maid! a love so true to slight;
Perfidious maid! yet, though perfidious, dear.
Bacchus the Naiad loves.—Haste, lingering boy,
Cool from the lucid spring the full-ag'd wine;
If the vain nymph fly from our social joy
To seek a stranger bed, still must I pine?
Cool from the lucid spring the full-ag'd wine;
If the vain nymph fly from our social joy
To seek a stranger bed, still must I pine?
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Still sigh away the night's revolving hours?
Boy, be the bowl with stronger beverage crown'd;
With Tyrian perfumes wet, should blooming flowers
Long long ere this about my brows be bound.
Boy, be the bowl with stronger beverage crown'd;
With Tyrian perfumes wet, should blooming flowers
Long long ere this about my brows be bound.
THE END.
| Verses on several subjects (1802) | |