The Land of the Muses a poem, In the Manner of Spenser. With Poems on several Occasions. By Hugh Downman |
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| POEMS ON SEVERAL OCCASIONS. |
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 | The Land of the Muses |  |
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POEMS ON SEVERAL OCCASIONS.
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An ODE. Occasioned by the Coronation 1761.
I.
1.
Sleep'st thou, fair maid,Æolian Virgin, sleep'st thou in the cave
Of drowsy silence, all array'd
In indolence supine?
Does listless Morpheus wave
His torpid-striking wand thy brows around,
Damping thy faculties divine?
Arise, fair maid, arise!
Shake off the tardiness of dull delay;
Quick bid the sacred lyre resound,
Quick tune th'harmonious lay:
'Tis Brunswick claims the verse, prepare
Thine eagle-plumes, and light as air
Sail through the azure-vaulted skies.
2.
But first removeFar from thy hallow'd presence, the base train
Of fawning Flattery; she to prove
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Licking the dust: disdain
So lowly to debase thine honest head,
And soil thy verdant laurel crown;
Back to thy shades retire,
Immerge in solitude thy form august;
Thy shining locks with darkness braid;
Still rest in silence, if the lust
Of fame entice thy voice to sing
The meanest of mankind, a King,
Whom vice and tyranny inspire.
3.
The worthless great to praiseBefits the hireling's prostituted pen,
Who sells for sordid gold his venal lays.
Though oft along the winding Seine,
Though oft in days of elder date,
On the green margin of the Tuscan stream,
Dazzled by pomp's external state,
Th'ignoble bard has strung the glozing lyre
Of specious falsehood; yet the British Muse,
Free-born, should spurn th'illusive theme;
And fraught with conscious dignity, refuse
On Folly's sons to waste her sacred fire,
Or soothing regal grandeur, weave
For undeserving Pride her ever-blooming wreathe.
II.
1.
Such caution hereIs vain: those fabling strains nor George requires,
Neither art thou inclin'd to spare.
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Thy progress he desires,
And thou secure from harm shalt onward fly:
Directed by her steady ray,
Should meager Envy scowl
Thy steps before, and grimly-threat'ning lance
Keen arrows from her poisonous eye,
Unmov'd thou shalt advance,
Smile in her face, without a wound
Hear her fierce serpents hiss around,
And all her ill-shap'd monsters howl.
2.
Chaste Virgin, sayWhere shall begin the song? before my eyes
So various are the Forms which stray,
That all confus'd my mind,
And smit with wild surprise,
Scarce keeps its proper function. Here behold,
Upon a craggy rock reclin'd,
High stretch'd out o'er the main,
Despair and Horrour on her faded brow,
Sits Gallia! while her arms enfold
The anguish of her breast, as now
Wide o'er the deep she looks, now o'er
Th'exhausted land, her humbled power
She weeps, thick falls the briny rain.
3.
Chang'd is the scene, and hereSuppliant the savage chiefs of Indian race,
In lowly guise, with aspect meek appear,
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No more with death and terror clad,
Oft wont with wild foot through the dreary shade
To range with Slaughter, oft when mad
With rage, and hot revenge, and fierce desire
Of blood and prey, in the dead silent night,
For still repose and slumber made,
Have rais'd th'awakening yell of dread affright,
Have basely slain the unresisting sire,
The babe from its fond mother tore,
Soon welt'ring in her own, and her lov'd infants' gore.
III.
1.
Well skill'd in guile,And treacherous as th'unsteady gale, which waves
Its fickle pinion with a smile
Now o'er the tranquil sea;
But soon with fury raves,
And lifts its tortur'd billows to the sky;
Where the bright chariot of the day
Bursts from his eastern goal,
Striking the face of darkness with affright,
And makes her ghastly shadows fly
Before the piercing light:
Dread Eastern Tyrants wear the chain,
Trust their deep policy in vain,
And crafty wiliness of soul.
2.
Where-e'er his armsProceed, the blooming form of Victory
Array'd in her full blaze of charms,
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Of British Mars; his eye
Gazes entranc'd upon the lovely maid,
And rapturous thoughts endow
His soul with ecstasy.
Say then, bright Queen of song, wilt thou entwine
A chaplet for his honour'd head?
Wilt thou among th'assembled Nine
Extol th'intrepid deeds of War,
The thunder of his rapid car,
His spear, and brazen panoply.
3.
Ah, no; for what though here,No vile ambition instigates to fight;
Yet learn, O Brunswick, name for ever dear
To Albion's sons, that at the sight
Of angry Justice from the eye
Of mild Humanity the pitying drop
Descends; with tenderest sympathy
Each mourning Virtue casts the head aside,
And every child of Reason and of Sense;
Ah then, be 't thine with haste to stop
The fatal steps of War and Death, dispense
With generous thought, and true heroic pride,
The blessings which attend the train
Of hallow'd Peace, and dignify her glorious reign.
IV.
1.
And, lo, they come!Soft o'er the flowers of the velvet mead
Content and meck-ey'd Quiet roam,
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By frolic Laughter led:
And liberal Science rears her blushing face,
And Merit dares advance
From the dark haunt of Scorn,
Where she stray'd pensive many a long long day:
And every Muse and sister Grace
On thee shall beam the living ray:
Thy memory priz'd, when those whose reign
Ambition guided, shall remain
The curse of ages yet unborn.
2.
And see, to blessThy life, so soften Grandeur's aking fears
With the chaste conjugal caress,
To soothe the weighty toils
Of state, and ease its cares,
Where Charlotte every female virtue brings!
Oh happy state, in mutual smiles,
Where souls communion mingle! there
Love revels all-luxuriant and free,
There modest Transport waves her wing,
There dwells exulting Harmony
With chaste Delight, there ne'er is seen
Angry Suspicion's coward mien,
Nor doubts nor jealousies appear.
3.
Hail'd by a nation's voice,Long happy pair, long may you wear the crown,
By merit yours; long may the land rejoice,
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And when, howe'er belov'd, howe'er
Call'd on to stay, the laws of fate,
Which not transcendent goodness spare,
Shall snatch you hence from a lamenting world;
Heir to his father's virtues, may a son,
Another George, direct th'affairs of state,
And mount with glory his paternal throne,
As now, far off be angry Faction hurl'd,
Diffusive Peace, oh spread thy bounties wide!
And may another nymph like Charlotte be his bride.
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TO the LYRIC MUSE.
An ODE.
I.
1.
Say, will the Lyric MuseThe themes of tender love refuse?
Though she with haughty state presides
Over the big tumultuous tides,
Which down the sacred mountain pour,
And stun the ear with deafening roar;
Yet where more gentle currents stray,
And through the flowery vallies play,
Laughing with transport as they flow,
Where roses and where myrtles grow,
She has e'er now been often found
To scatter her enchanting blessings round.
2.
Long in the Grecian isles,Retain'd by Cytheræa's smiles,
Enamour'd of her rosy hue,
While frolic pleasures round her flew,
Stole from her lips the nectar'd kiss,
And bath'd their light-plum'd wings in bliss;
While Hebe danc'd with graceful tread,
And the soft airs, and passions led;
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Young Love wav'd high his magic torch,
Thou too with sweetest look appear'd,
And often thy melodious voice was heard.
3.
Hast thou forgot the melting strainWhich taught by thee thy Sappho sung,
When stretch'd upon the Lesbian plain,
O'er her the form of tender Pity hung?
Didst thou not bountifully shed
Thy visions o'er Anacreon's head?
And e'en the frozen breast of age,
In amorous nets and toils engage,
While all the virgins wondering stood,
And laugh'd, yet found themselves subdu'd?
And when he immaturely died,
Say, did not Grief thy heavenly beauties hide?
II.
1.
On what wide-seated shoreDo mortals now thy name adore,
Celestial Love? Thy haunts of old,
What clouds of darkness now enfold,
Instead of the pure incense bright,
Which then diffus'd a genial light!
Within th'incircled Haram reign
Tyrannic Lust, and jealous Pain,
Bitter Constraint, internal Fears,
Lean Anguish, and corroding Cares;
Unknown are there the mutual sighs
Which from the sympathetic breast arise.
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2.
Thy more than human mienBy Tiber has of yore been seen;
And ere the Roman eagle flew
The sons of Britain to subdue,
With native Innocence allied,
Haply thy power did there reside:
But big with plentitude of woes,
From the rank earth a pest arose;
Nature his shape with grief espied,
And for her death-doom'd offspring sigh'd;
They sunk beneath, an easy prey,
And Love fled far from Avarice away.
3.
Didst thou then seek Columbia's strand,There thy propitious forehead shew,
While rais'd by thy creative hand,
The blooming flowers of social rapture grew?
Too short a time, alas! from thence
Didst thou thy radiant gifts dispense:
Behold, th'impetuous monster haste,
Rapine, and Violence, and Waste,
Follow attendant on his flight:
And lo, before thy pitying sight,
Welt'ring in blood thy people lies,
To cursed gold the fated sacrifice.
III.
1.
By force exil'd, ah! whereDid thy insulted steps repair!
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Perhaps enjoy'd thy bounteous reign;
Or didst thou steer thy vagrant course
To Orellana's distant source?
There while in artlessness array'd,
The youth beholds his sun-burnt maid;
There while of every wish possest,
He leans with fondness on her breast,
Thou seest them in the palmy grove,
And o'er their heads thy purple pinions move.
2.
There too the heavenly MuseShowers perchance her kindly dews,
While thus some Indian Horace sings,
As to his love he strikes the strings.
“Ah, when you praise my rival's charms,
“His jetty neck, and sable arms,
“With passion swells my fervid breast,
“With passion hard to be supprest:
“My senses float in terrors vain,
“My blood retreats, and comes again;
“The tears steal down my cheeks, and say,
“With what slow fires I totally decay.”
3.
Oh, if with me, ye gentle powers,Ye sometimes would but deign to dwell,
Born by the quickly-circling hours,
If ye would visit my sequester'd cell:
One who with purest passion glows,
Who not the face of Avarice knows,
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But owning Nature for his guide;
Who from his earliest day of youth,
Confess'd her charms, and worshipp'd Truth;
Ye in that secret cell should find,
And subject to your laws, a willing mind.
ODE.
I.
1.
Who with ungovern'd tongue will blameThe verse th'eternal Muse inspires?
The soul-illuminating flame,
Kindled at heaven's own sacred fires?
Who but the wretch of narrow mind,
Whose sentiments were ne'er refin'd
From the vile dross, whose base alloy
Condemns him still to plod along
But one degree above the bestial throng,
Unconscious of each nobler source of joy?
2.
Yet though unto the frigid earOf native Dullness every strain
Of melody uncouth appear,
And all the gifts of Science vain;
Though dazzled by the blaze of light,
Vice starting, turns away her sight
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Though Cruelty, Revenge, and Strife,
And all the plagues which harrass human life,
Keep far aloof, and tread a distant way:
3.
Thy sons, O Virtue, with respect sincere,Bend lowly down before their holy shrine,
To them they offer up the spotless prayer,
And bless the influence of the powers divine.
All who with more exalted thought
Have Wisdom's valued precepts sought;
All who with pure emotions bless'd,
Love Beauty by the Graces dress'd;
All who to bounteous Nature just,
Dare her instinctive feelings trust,
The Muses hallow'd votary approve,
Enjoy his confidence, and share his love.
II.
1.
Hence then away, ye vulgar crew!Such would I have condemn my lays;
But hither turn ye worthier few,
Embold'ned by whose genuine praise,
Let the half-soul'd, cold-blooded friend,
Sneer, while affecting to commend,
Let the unfeeling fool laugh loud,
To you alone the bard his lyre
Shall strike, and quitting every mean desire,
Soar far beyond the falsely-judging croud.
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2.
Unhappy is the poet's fate,Th'intrinsic value of whose name
All will pretend to estimate,
And at their will commend, or blame.
Empty deceit! as if their eye
Could trace the light'ning through the sky,
Pursue the comet's devious maze,
Or looking on the blue profound,
Where not the fathom-line could ever sound,
Pierce to the bottom with a single gaze.
3.
Ah wretch, to whom 'tis given to possessSuperior strength and energy of mind,
Unless he's planted in a sphere to bless,
Even against their wills, perverse mankind!
Else mingling with the common train
Full of themselves, he speaks in vain:
Of if they hear his voice, is styl'd
Extravagant, excentric, wild,
Because his reason does not lie
Level with their capacity,
Because his active sense springs 'tward the goal,
And dwelling not on parts, takes in the whole.
III.
1.
Or if their weakness to befriend,O'er his own thoughts he cast a veil,
Reflection's serious brow unbend,
And her intenser rays conceal;
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And being like themselves despise.—
O contradicting law! the chain
Of Nature, draws with all its power,
To mix in life, and seek the social hour;
Indignant Reason goads us thence again.
2.
She proves how vague the hope, how blind,Which on external good relies;
Which seeks for aught among mankind,
To gratify the just and wise.
Ah! where then should the Bard remove,
Whose song the choral Nine approve?
Or where the Sage, whose breast disdains
The holy juggler's wily cheats?
Where but to those retir'd and still retreats,
Where Solitude close leagued with Virtue reigns?
3.
Hers are the Graces, hers the winning charms,Which the fix'd bosom from conviction please;
From necessary choice, within her arms
We wish to spend the remnant of our days;
Not so in our first greener years,
New to this world of vice and cares,
By Flattery taught: for what is Fame,
But a delusive idle name,
Fading before the living breath?—
Though having pass'd the vale of Death,
She may with vain solicitude return,
And deck with fruitless wreathes the funeral urn.
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ODE.
[How lives the man, whose thoughts have broke]
I.
How lives the man, whose thoughts have brokeImperious Custom's servile yoke?
Him Nature guiding by the hand,
Leads on where Truth and Reason stand;
Virtue her mantle round him flings,
And Honour waves her silver wings:
He does not yield to foreign laws,
But wisely courts his own applause:
Health sits inthroned in his eye,
And Innocence walks smiling by.
II.
When sunk into the vale of yearsHis head the hoary foliage bears,
He backward casts his tranquil sight
And views each scene reflected bright;
No sullen damps his joy infest,
No plagues of Avarice tear his breast;
Him willing Duty hastes to serve,
And strains with zeal each lab'ring nerve,
While Love sits gazing on his face,
Intent the latent wish to trace.
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SONNETS. Wrote at Inversnaid, in Scotland, in the year 1767.
SONNET I.
[Hence Sickness, nor about my weary head]
Hence Sickness, nor about my weary headThy languid vapours wrap, and drooping wings:
Better would'st thou thy baleful poison shed
In some dark cave where the Night-raven sings,
Where heavy sits the gloom-delighted Owl,
Where Aconite its loathsome juices throws;
Where dwells the Bat, and Serpents hissing foul,
And fell Despair, who never knows repose:
There drag with thee the wretch, who has betray'd
His trust, has ruin'd innocence, or spilt
The sacred blood of him who gave him life;
Him torture there: nor will the lovely maid,
The sweet-ey'd Mercy, conscious of his guilt,
Restrain thy hand, or blunt thy sharpen'd knife.
SONNET II.
[Though here almost eternal Winter reigns]
Though here almost eternal Winter reigns,And piercing deep the womb of Nature chills;
Though born far off under a milder sky,
The northern blast e'en through my marrow thrills,
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The hardy natives o'er the mountains high,
Trace out the step of Health amid the snow;
Or where o'er the gray moss her bare feet stray:
Hence active nerves, and scorn of danger flow;
Hence when of late, call'd forth to mortal fray,
At their approach, Revenge more furious grew,
War smil'd, while triple Rage new steel'd his heart,
Pale bloodless Fear turn'd to a ghastlier hue,
And Death more dreadful shook his pointed dart.
SONNET III.
[When Recollection stirs up in the mind]
When Recollection stirs up in the mindAnd sets before her eye past scenes of woe,
In vain will the wise men their sayings bring
Dead, unimpassion'd, wrote in the full flow
Of health and strength, to nicer feelings blind:
In vain against Reflection's piercing sting,
They urge a formal phrase, or adage quaint,
And with a shrewd and well-turn'd point of wit,
Or a laborious studied argument,
Think to chase far away the fretful fit:
They might as well drink the wide ocean dry,
Or rob cold Winter of his snowy beard:
Spite of the vain saws of Philosophy,
Nature is prevalent, and will be heard.
SONNET IV.
[Now is the feudal vassalage destroy'd]
Now is the feudal vassalage destroy'd,By which the haughty Thane his subject train
Held at his will, and in confinement strong
Fetter'd the servile crew, and with stern reign
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No will they ever of their own enjoy'd,
But bent implicitly to his controul.
Now by degrees they find that Liberty
Opens the narrow foldings of the soul,
And they too dare to boast that they are free.
No more with rapine they the fields infest,
Or seek out Slaughter in her secret den;
But by the laws of equal Justice blest,
Humanely think, and feel that they are men.
A Picture of HUMAN LIFE.
Elate with Hope, and her enlivening fires,
I rush'd impetuous o'er the fields of youth,
I gave up all my soul to gay desires,
And Fancy's dazzling form mistook for Truth.
I rush'd impetuous o'er the fields of youth,
I gave up all my soul to gay desires,
And Fancy's dazzling form mistook for Truth.
She held her magick glass, and strait I saw
A youth with rare accomplishments endued;
Perfect he seem'd; nor quickly did I know
That struck with wonder of myself I stood.
A youth with rare accomplishments endued;
Perfect he seem'd; nor quickly did I know
That struck with wonder of myself I stood.
When known, a transient blush o'erspread my face:
Self-love soon took the sanguine stain away,
Increas'd each mental visionary grace,
And deck'd each feature with a brighter ray.
Self-love soon took the sanguine stain away,
Increas'd each mental visionary grace,
And deck'd each feature with a brighter ray.
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Well-pleas'd the treacherous Nymph, O youth, she cried,
Point thy ideas to the highest aim:
Why are superiour virtues still untried?
Why does not Worth its lawful honours claim?
Point thy ideas to the highest aim:
Why are superiour virtues still untried?
Why does not Worth its lawful honours claim?
Inactive rise! lift thy aspiring brow;
Thine be the joys of wealth, of power, of fame;
Let thy young breast with emulation glow;
Behold the noblest, and be thou the same.
Thine be the joys of wealth, of power, of fame;
Let thy young breast with emulation glow;
Behold the noblest, and be thou the same.
Fool that I was, with giddy transport blind,
I swallow'd the sweet sound with eager ear;
My eyes the latent poison could not find,
Nor heart think evil of a shape so fair.
I swallow'd the sweet sound with eager ear;
My eyes the latent poison could not find,
Nor heart think evil of a shape so fair.
Drunk as with wine, methought I could attain
To be of each admiring tongue the theme,
Whether I will'd th'heroick palm to gain,
Or haunt the laurell'd shade of Academe.
To be of each admiring tongue the theme,
Whether I will'd th'heroick palm to gain,
Or haunt the laurell'd shade of Academe.
Whether with Love to waste the smiling hours,
To melt the captiv'd virgin's icy breast,
Or wander in the Muses roseate bowers,
Weave the proud wreathe, and dignify my crest.
To melt the captiv'd virgin's icy breast,
Or wander in the Muses roseate bowers,
Weave the proud wreathe, and dignify my crest.
Methought my penetrating eye could dart
Through the black plots and mysteries of state,
Pierce the thick foldings of the human heart,
And rule with Judgement's voice the deep debate.
Through the black plots and mysteries of state,
Pierce the thick foldings of the human heart,
And rule with Judgement's voice the deep debate.
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Wildly fantastick; the fierce northern blast,
I might as soon with guiding rein have taught,
Or dry-shod o'er the billowy sea have past,
As into form have chang'd unbodied thought.
I might as soon with guiding rein have taught,
Or dry-shod o'er the billowy sea have past,
As into form have chang'd unbodied thought.
Ye gay delusions, whither are ye fled,
Begot by Health on Fiction's lovely form?
Will ye ne'er gently hover o'er my head?
With rapture ne'er again my bosom warm?
Begot by Health on Fiction's lovely form?
Will ye ne'er gently hover o'er my head?
With rapture ne'er again my bosom warm?
Say, canst thou bid old Time with stealthy pace,
Retread the paths his feet have trod before?
The sun mete backward his celestial race?
And we'll again our pleasing dreams restore.
Retread the paths his feet have trod before?
The sun mete backward his celestial race?
And we'll again our pleasing dreams restore.
Again, from the full fount of life thy blood,
Swift bursting forth, shall swell each turgid vein;
Th'enthusiastic spirits in a flood,
From each strong nerve shall fire thy kindling brain.
Swift bursting forth, shall swell each turgid vein;
Th'enthusiastic spirits in a flood,
From each strong nerve shall fire thy kindling brain.
This Fate withstands;—and Reason, sternest guide,
Contracts in narrower bounds th'excursive view;
She plainly shews, throughout the fleeting tide
Of Life, what airy bubbles we pursue.
Contracts in narrower bounds th'excursive view;
She plainly shews, throughout the fleeting tide
Of Life, what airy bubbles we pursue.
By her does conscious Diffidence and Fear
Ambition's rage, and Fancy's whims controul,
The flighty purposes to youth so dear,
And that wild elasticity of soul.
Ambition's rage, and Fancy's whims controul,
The flighty purposes to youth so dear,
And that wild elasticity of soul.
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Hence then, ye vain, ye unsubstantial joys,
Able the self-deluded soul to bless.—
Yet when, alas, among life's real toys,
Shall I such soothing happiness possess!
Able the self-deluded soul to bless.—
Yet when, alas, among life's real toys,
Shall I such soothing happiness possess!
ODE.
[Put on, O Vice, thy proper hue]
I.
Put on, O Vice, thy proper hue,In thy own native likeness stand,
Soon shalt thou find thy subjects few,
Thy throne uprear'd on sand:
Abhorrent Nature with surprise
Would turn away her loathing eyes;
Ingenuous Youth with pain
Thy monstrous shape would see
Cover'd with each toad-spotted stain;
While writhing Anguish, and pale Infamy,
Stalk close behind, too desperate to complain.
II.
But cunning as thou art,Well dost thou know the human heart;
Its intimate recesses lie
Open to thy wily eye.
Hence thou with many a mimick grace,
Stol'n from the Virtues, as of old,
Unconscious of an enemy so near,
Always open and sincere,
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Beneath a grot in the translucent wave,
Hast deck'd thy odious face.
III.
Thy unsuspecting lover thinks them true:Of cloudy vapours made,
A thousand dazzling forms parade
Before his cheated view:
A thousand pleasures move,
Breathing Mirth, and social Love;
Some with quick-doubling feet,
And winning smiles, advance
In the mazy circling dance;
And then with more alluring step retreat.
IV.
Others on waving wing,Such notes of lively transport sing;
Or varying now their strain,
With such dying melody complain;
That guided by th'enchanting sound,
And swallowed up in hearing, every sense,
The cheated victim o'er the magick ground,
Straying without defence,
His careless progress takes;
Till lost among inextricable brakes,
Or in the midst of some wild heath forlorn,
He finds himself at last;
Hears nothing but the wintry blast,
Which all his idle moanings flouts with scorn.
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V.
Fatigu'd and spiritless he lies,Nor dares from the cold earth to rise;
Night closes in.—Ah, where art thou,
Celestial Hope! thy face the darkness shrouds;—
Oh! through the quick-disparting clouds
Appear, and by the moon's clear ray
Let him behold thy placid brow:
Faithful companion of thy way,
By his golden lance well known,
And firm-ingirding adamantine zone,
Bring Resolution, in a purple vest
By the young unfledg'd Moments drest.
VI.
O raise him in your arms! and while his veinsYet flow with life, while any strength remains,
Bear him away with swiftest course:
For should Sleep on him steal,
And with its dew his eye-lids seal,
Not even an immortal force
Could open them again; no more
Shall he behold the sun of Virtue pour
Its radiance from the morning-sky;
Black mists shall round him ever fly;
Or he shall fall from some steep mountain's brow,
O'erwhelm'd by the deep flood that roars below.
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The Madness of Aspasia.
Curse on the wretch, whoe'er he be,
That the fond maid betrays,
Blasts unsuspecting Innocence,
And snares for Virtue lays;
That the fond maid betrays,
Blasts unsuspecting Innocence,
And snares for Virtue lays;
Who works upon an easy mind,
Causes of anger feigns,
And to the Fair who loves him well,
Of cold disdain complains;
Causes of anger feigns,
And to the Fair who loves him well,
Of cold disdain complains;
And when she opens all her soul,
Seizes th'unguarded time,
The sudden start of generous love,
And glories in his crime.
Seizes th'unguarded time,
The sudden start of generous love,
And glories in his crime.
Such Cynthio, such Aspasia was,
In prime of earliest youth;
She a devoted victim fell
To his pretended truth.
In prime of earliest youth;
She a devoted victim fell
To his pretended truth.
Pall'd by possession, though her soul
Was worth a kingdom's price;
Yet all its charms could not retain
The harden'd slave of Vice.
Was worth a kingdom's price;
Yet all its charms could not retain
The harden'd slave of Vice.
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He gave her up to all the pangs
Which Delicacy knows,
Which, conscious of reproach and shame,
From nicest feeling flows.
Which Delicacy knows,
Which, conscious of reproach and shame,
From nicest feeling flows.
Yet shall avengement sure, though slow,
Harass his guilty mind;
That pity he denied to her,
Will be from him confin'd.
Harass his guilty mind;
That pity he denied to her,
Will be from him confin'd.
The grief, th'unutterable grief,
Which to her sire befell,
No pen, no other tongue but that
Of a fond sire can tell.
Which to her sire befell,
No pen, no other tongue but that
Of a fond sire can tell.
Let us, my friends, says he, find out
Where the afflicted strays;
Let us, if possible, at least,
Give her some little ease;
Where the afflicted strays;
Let us, if possible, at least,
Give her some little ease;
Her bosom with the lenient balm
Of tender Pity fill,
Or sit in silent woe around,
As the mute mourner, still.
Of tender Pity fill,
Or sit in silent woe around,
As the mute mourner, still.
But stay, she comes along this path:
Oh, thou heart-breaking sight!
Before my eyes this hour had seen,
Would they'd been steep'd in night!
Oh, thou heart-breaking sight!
Before my eyes this hour had seen,
Would they'd been steep'd in night!
61
She's mad, my friends, I see it well,
I read it in her eye;
That wild glance thrown around, bespeaks
Th'extreme of misery.
I read it in her eye;
That wild glance thrown around, bespeaks
Th'extreme of misery.
She opes her pallid lips to speak;
O ruin'd Excellence!
Pour forth thy unconnected thoughts,
And reave me of my sense.
O ruin'd Excellence!
Pour forth thy unconnected thoughts,
And reave me of my sense.
I've been to yonder wood to gather flowers,
There on a bank so steep,
I saw him lying fast asleep;
I stole on softly to the bowers,
No ear
My silent step could hear:
For why should I awake,
Or cause him from his sleep to start?
But a fierce snake
My footsteps did pursue,
I nothing of it knew,
And springing on me, eat out all my heart.
See what a frightful wound!
Ah! no, it cannot now be found.
So I snatch'd up my flowers in haste,
And round my head have trac'd;
But they're too bright and gay,
As I wear them in my hair,
They make my complexion more faded appear:
Away! away! away!
Yet I have been as fair as they;—
But should they be betrayed,—
Depriv'd of their bloom,
They'd sink down to the tomb,
And be pale and wan like me.
Be sure with them let my hearse be drest,
And strew them o'er my earthly bed,
Where I shall shortly lie:
When the cold turf supports my head,
I'll take my fill of rest;
The worm sha'n't hear me sigh.
But I pray you secret prove:
Tell it not to my love,
Nor let him that way go,—
For should he come in,
And see me look so thin,
His heart would burst in two.
No;—he has quite forgot,
He says he knows me not
Now in my misery.
And will you believe him too?
Has madness seiz'd your mind?
Though you may think him true,
The faithless seas and wind,
Are not more false than he.
Methinks I can't but smile,
That he should you beguile.—
I heed not what he says,
But stop up my ears,
And am deaf to his prayers.
In vain his flatteries he displays,
And tells me I am fair
As the new-fallen snow,
That my keen eyes have pierc'd him through,
That me alone he loves.—No, no,
When once deceiv'd, beware.
Fool that I was! I thought him true.—
Oh snatch him, snatch him from my view—
Yet ye tormentors set him free,
Give him his liberty:
The pain his conscience brings,
Is worse than all your racks of steel,
Your whips and cruel stings:
I know what he must feel.—
He swore, so holy was his flame,
That I should never know
A pleasure or a woe,
But he should feel the same.
So bid the bride-maids come;
I'll be dress'd all in white:—
We'll take the damask room;—
'Tis long before 'tis night.—
What say you? Lost! 'tis all a jest;
It is not yet quite dark:
He stays till I'm undrest.—
Is that the morning lark?
Not yet return'd? where fled? where fled?
Alas, I knew it well;
I knew that he was dead,
Although you would not tell.
I'm wonderous cold: My hands are clay,—
My blood in frost is bound;—
Yet force me not away:
We'll lie in the same spot of ground:
Under this marble stone,
I shall enjoy him all alone.
There on a bank so steep,
I saw him lying fast asleep;
I stole on softly to the bowers,
No ear
My silent step could hear:
For why should I awake,
Or cause him from his sleep to start?
But a fierce snake
My footsteps did pursue,
I nothing of it knew,
And springing on me, eat out all my heart.
See what a frightful wound!
Ah! no, it cannot now be found.
So I snatch'd up my flowers in haste,
And round my head have trac'd;
But they're too bright and gay,
As I wear them in my hair,
They make my complexion more faded appear:
Away! away! away!
62
But should they be betrayed,—
Depriv'd of their bloom,
They'd sink down to the tomb,
And be pale and wan like me.
Be sure with them let my hearse be drest,
And strew them o'er my earthly bed,
Where I shall shortly lie:
When the cold turf supports my head,
I'll take my fill of rest;
The worm sha'n't hear me sigh.
But I pray you secret prove:
Tell it not to my love,
Nor let him that way go,—
For should he come in,
And see me look so thin,
His heart would burst in two.
No;—he has quite forgot,
He says he knows me not
Now in my misery.
And will you believe him too?
Has madness seiz'd your mind?
Though you may think him true,
The faithless seas and wind,
Are not more false than he.
Methinks I can't but smile,
That he should you beguile.—
I heed not what he says,
But stop up my ears,
And am deaf to his prayers.
63
And tells me I am fair
As the new-fallen snow,
That my keen eyes have pierc'd him through,
That me alone he loves.—No, no,
When once deceiv'd, beware.
Fool that I was! I thought him true.—
Oh snatch him, snatch him from my view—
Yet ye tormentors set him free,
Give him his liberty:
The pain his conscience brings,
Is worse than all your racks of steel,
Your whips and cruel stings:
I know what he must feel.—
He swore, so holy was his flame,
That I should never know
A pleasure or a woe,
But he should feel the same.
So bid the bride-maids come;
I'll be dress'd all in white:—
We'll take the damask room;—
'Tis long before 'tis night.—
What say you? Lost! 'tis all a jest;
It is not yet quite dark:
He stays till I'm undrest.—
Is that the morning lark?
Not yet return'd? where fled? where fled?
Alas, I knew it well;
I knew that he was dead,
Although you would not tell.
64
My blood in frost is bound;—
Yet force me not away:
We'll lie in the same spot of ground:
Under this marble stone,
I shall enjoy him all alone.
Oh! help, my friends! her shuddering limbs,
Her interrupted breath,
And those convulsive strugglings, speak
The quick approach of death.
Her interrupted breath,
And those convulsive strugglings, speak
The quick approach of death.
And are there powers in heaven above?
Will they this sight behold?
Then Virtue droop thy fearful head,
Exulting Vice be bold.
Will they this sight behold?
Then Virtue droop thy fearful head,
Exulting Vice be bold.
Oh take her gently from the ground,
Alas! she moves no more,
Her mortal pilgrimage is past,
And mine will soon be o'er.
Alas! she moves no more,
Her mortal pilgrimage is past,
And mine will soon be o'er.
65
An ELEGY. Transposed from Spenser.
When first before my youthful eyes,
I saw the form of Sylvia move,
I gaz'd upon her with surprise,
But not one thought had I of love.
I saw the form of Sylvia move,
I gaz'd upon her with surprise,
But not one thought had I of love.
My soul grew fond of fancies vain,
Tetchy and froward, nought could please,
Yet knew I not what gave me pain,
Nor thought it love, but some disease.
Tetchy and froward, nought could please,
Yet knew I not what gave me pain,
Nor thought it love, but some disease.
Soon as the beauty of the sky
Night had defac'd with pallid hue,
Striving to sleep I down should lie,
But sleep away far from me flew.
Night had defac'd with pallid hue,
Striving to sleep I down should lie,
But sleep away far from me flew.
Instead thereof sad sighs and fears
About me cruel watch maintain'd,
Forth gush'd th'involuntary tears,
And Sorrow then triumphant reign'd.
About me cruel watch maintain'd,
Forth gush'd th'involuntary tears,
And Sorrow then triumphant reign'd.
66
If any drop of slumb'ring rest
Into my weary soul distill'd,
What frightful dreams would then infest!
What horrour through my bosom thrill'd!
Into my weary soul distill'd,
What frightful dreams would then infest!
What horrour through my bosom thrill'd!
Then up I from my bed should start,
And all my former grief renew,
Think on that image in my heart,
And all its heavenly charms review.
And all my former grief renew,
Think on that image in my heart,
And all its heavenly charms review.
All night a stranger to repose,
To ease a stranger all the day,
No sports, no company I chose,
To Solitude a willing prey.
To ease a stranger all the day,
No sports, no company I chose,
To Solitude a willing prey.
Thus car'd I not abroad to spread
Youth's plant when in its fairest prime,
But let it all neglected, shed
Both fruit and flower before its time.
Youth's plant when in its fairest prime,
But let it all neglected, shed
Both fruit and flower before its time.
Alas, should this be love, I cried!
Too late the fatal cause I found,
In vain each lenient art I tried,
Too deep had pierc'd the rankling wound.
Too late the fatal cause I found,
In vain each lenient art I tried,
Too deep had pierc'd the rankling wound.
Nor other cure had I for grief,
But my hard fortune to deplore,
To languish like the fallen leaf,
And feed with plaints th'impoison'd sore.
But my hard fortune to deplore,
To languish like the fallen leaf,
And feed with plaints th'impoison'd sore.
67
Thus t'ward the silent grave I pac'd,
Thus by degrees decay'd my frame,
Till by the long and lingering waste,
I like a pined ghost became.
Thus by degrees decay'd my frame,
Till by the long and lingering waste,
I like a pined ghost became.
INSCRIPTION for an ARBOUR.
Enter, of welcome sure, beneath this shade,Ye sacred few, whose eyes can see with scorn
The pomp of Luxury; who unseduc'd
Can leave behind the city's noisy hum;
And smitten with the charms of Innocence,
Pleas'd with the lowly glen, and verdant lawn,
The leafy covert, and secure retreat,
Can hear with calm delight the thrush attune
His wildly-warbled note; can hear with joy
The village hind whistle his uncouth tune;
And th'herd loud-lowing in the dale beneath.
68
INSCRIPTION on a TREE in the centre of a Grove.
The Hamadryads, who inform this grove,Are pure, nor underneath their sheltering boughs
Harbour a thing profane; you they invite,
Ye virtuous Indolent, who scorn to act
In the corrupted scenes of public life,
The friends of heart-felt joy; with open arms
Receive Benevolence: hear the Muse pour
Her artless song well-pleas'd; and in their shade
Bid Love's blithe form sport all the summer long.
A RANT.
Wine, I feel thy rapt'ring power!Thine is all the present hour.
Strong Delight tumultuous reigns,
And throbs throughout my bursting veins.
69
Every bar is thrown aside.
Prudence hence; it loaths to trace
The features of thy simpering face,
Thy sober-measur'd gait to spy,
And leaden joy-forbidding eye.
Prudence hence; thy laws I scorn,
Thou of mean Deceit art born,
By sly Hypocrisy begot;
Noble Frankness heeds thee not.
Yet though all my sallying soul
Expatiates wide, and hates controul;
Though my thoughts unbridled dare
Forward fly in wild career;
In their most impetuous course,
Let me, Reason, own thy force:
Though thou totter'st on thy throne,
Let me call thee still my own;
For so mad I would not be,
As quite to lose the sight of thee.
70
An ODE.
[No; ye beckon me in vain]
No; ye beckon me in vain,
Your allurements I disdain,
Powers of riot! God of wine,
Though thy glist'ning forehead shine
Through the garland which around
Is so negligently bound;
Though Joy flashes from thy eye;
Though the purple goblet high
Foams with wine; on thy right hand
Though the soul of Pleasure stand,
And Wit, and unlac'd Gaiety,
Which, with Humour ever free,
Jest delighted; while beside
Laughter sits, and ope'ing wide
His mouth, lets forth a pealing din,
And shakes his jolly double chin:
God of wine, thou call'st in vain,
Thy allurements I disdain.
Your allurements I disdain,
Powers of riot! God of wine,
Though thy glist'ning forehead shine
Through the garland which around
Is so negligently bound;
Though Joy flashes from thy eye;
Though the purple goblet high
Foams with wine; on thy right hand
Though the soul of Pleasure stand,
And Wit, and unlac'd Gaiety,
Which, with Humour ever free,
Jest delighted; while beside
Laughter sits, and ope'ing wide
His mouth, lets forth a pealing din,
And shakes his jolly double chin:
God of wine, thou call'st in vain,
Thy allurements I disdain.
Lo, she comes, the Cyprian Queen!
Mark her soul-inflaming mien;
Thinly clad, the Luscious Fair
In Modesty's dissembled air;
Hear the faintly-broken sighs;
See her panting bosom rise;
Two twin orbs of snowy white
Gently swelling to the sight;
Languid eyes, extinct their fire,
Well they speak intense desire.
Mark her soul-inflaming mien;
71
In Modesty's dissembled air;
Hear the faintly-broken sighs;
See her panting bosom rise;
Two twin orbs of snowy white
Gently swelling to the sight;
Languid eyes, extinct their fire,
Well they speak intense desire.
Does not maddening Fancy rove
Through every vein provoking love?
Snatch, O snatch, me to thy arms;
Feast on willing Beauty's charms,
Luxurious feast without controul,
And bathe in rapture all thy soul.
Through every vein provoking love?
Snatch, O snatch, me to thy arms;
Feast on willing Beauty's charms,
Luxurious feast without controul,
And bathe in rapture all thy soul.
Cyprian Venus, hence away,
Scorn attends thy longer stay;
I detest the bought embrace;
Well I know thy practis'd face:
Hence to unsuspicious Youth,
Palm on him pretence for truth.
By Experience rightly taught,
Mine be Reason's sober thought;
Temperance, and her frugal hoard,
Slender fare, and homely board;
Mine be calm, domestick life,
The nuptial bed, the tender wife;
The smiling infant on my knee,
Chirping its little tale with glee.
So shall Health attend me still,
So shall Pleasure drink her fill
From the purest source of joy;
So shall Love without alloy,
Frolick o'er the hallow'd ground,
And wave his genial wing around.
Scorn attends thy longer stay;
I detest the bought embrace;
Well I know thy practis'd face:
Hence to unsuspicious Youth,
Palm on him pretence for truth.
By Experience rightly taught,
Mine be Reason's sober thought;
Temperance, and her frugal hoard,
Slender fare, and homely board;
Mine be calm, domestick life,
The nuptial bed, the tender wife;
The smiling infant on my knee,
Chirping its little tale with glee.
72
So shall Pleasure drink her fill
From the purest source of joy;
So shall Love without alloy,
Frolick o'er the hallow'd ground,
And wave his genial wing around.
Cyprian Venus, to my eyes,
When these home-felt transports rise,
Bacchus' riot-breeding train,
And thy embraces I disdain.
When these home-felt transports rise,
Bacchus' riot-breeding train,
And thy embraces I disdain.
On the Dead Sparrow of Lesbia. From Catullus.
O Venus! O ye Loves bewail!And all who finer passions feel!
Dead is the sparrow of my Fair,
The sparrow, who her tender care,
Who her excess of fondness prov'd,
Whom dearer than her eyes she lov'd.
For he the sweetest mind possess'd;
Conscious by whom he was caress'd,
He ne'er from her endearments flew;
Not she her mother better knew;
73
Twitter'd to her the live-long day.
Now goes he to the gloomy bourn,
Whence no one ever may return.
Perish, ye fatal shades, who spare
Nothing that's either good or fair!
Now have ye snatch'd with ruthless mind
The best and fairest of his kind.
O Impious Deed! from chearful Day
To force the little wretch away!
For whom my Girl finds no relief,
Her swelling eyes are red with grief.
To SLEEP.
Where are the downy slumbers fledWhich hover'd nightly o'er my head,
And soon as I my pillow prest,
Clos'd my eyes in sweetest rest?
By wakeful Love forbid to stay,
Alas! too long ye keep away!
O come, ye vagrant slumbers, spread
Again your pinions o'er my head!
O, long unchear'd by sweet repose,
Again my fainting eye-lids close!
74
ELEGY.
[The truest Love is still reserv'd and shy]
The truest Love is still reserv'd and shy,
No look of confidence or boldness wears,
Known by the humble brow, and soften'd eye,
And full of wavering doubts, and anxious fears.
No look of confidence or boldness wears,
Known by the humble brow, and soften'd eye,
And full of wavering doubts, and anxious fears.
When I perceiv'd that Thespia had o'ercome
My yielding heart, and fixt her empire there,
That from her hands I must receive my doom,
And all my future weal must flow from her:
My yielding heart, and fixt her empire there,
That from her hands I must receive my doom,
And all my future weal must flow from her:
What dreadful strugglings did I undergo
'Twixt native bashfulness and strong desire!
How did my senses fluctuate to and fro,
'Twixt soft respectful Love, and Passion's fire!
'Twixt native bashfulness and strong desire!
How did my senses fluctuate to and fro,
'Twixt soft respectful Love, and Passion's fire!
Oft did I wish the secret to have told,
But awe and modest dread too much prevail'd;
Her presence all my faculties controul'd,
And every settled resolution fail'd.
But awe and modest dread too much prevail'd;
Her presence all my faculties controul'd,
And every settled resolution fail'd.
At length with firm intent I sought the Fair,
With firm intent to pour out all my heart,
To let her know the story of my care,
And the long misery of consuming smart.
With firm intent to pour out all my heart,
To let her know the story of my care,
And the long misery of consuming smart.
75
Her steps I to a secret garden drew,
She without guile, went innocently free,
No ill suspecting, for no ill she knew,
Nor fear'd to trust herself alone with me.
She without guile, went innocently free,
No ill suspecting, for no ill she knew,
Nor fear'd to trust herself alone with me.
At first to talk as usual I assay'd,
Hoping thereby to gain a tranquil air,
And as along the walk we slowly stray'd,
Pluck'd frequent flowers, and stuck them in her hair.
Hoping thereby to gain a tranquil air,
And as along the walk we slowly stray'd,
Pluck'd frequent flowers, and stuck them in her hair.
But still my shorten'd breath fast went and came,
O'er my embarrass'd limbs a stiffness hung,
My heart throbb'd strong, and shook my lab'ring frame,
And fears, I know not how, unnerv'd my tongue.
O'er my embarrass'd limbs a stiffness hung,
My heart throbb'd strong, and shook my lab'ring frame,
And fears, I know not how, unnerv'd my tongue.
Resolv'd to speak, some secret power restrain'd;
Asham'd, and angry with myself I grew,
With crimson consciousness my cheeks were stain'd,
And quick again the conscious stains withdrew.
Asham'd, and angry with myself I grew,
With crimson consciousness my cheeks were stain'd,
And quick again the conscious stains withdrew.
She whether unobservant all the while,
Or else my strange confusion to relieve,
Indifferently talk'd with careless smile,
But I to what she said no heed could give.
Or else my strange confusion to relieve,
Indifferently talk'd with careless smile,
But I to what she said no heed could give.
Then chang'd my fickle mind its first design,
Determin'd sudden on some future day,
Then would I each perplexity untwine,
And every ardent wish before her lay.
Determin'd sudden on some future day,
Then would I each perplexity untwine,
And every ardent wish before her lay.
76
A transient calm succeeded in my breast;
Yet sure, thought I, I have not so conceal'd,
But she th'emotions of my soul has guess'd;
Perhaps she wishes too they were reveal'd.
Yet sure, thought I, I have not so conceal'd,
But she th'emotions of my soul has guess'd;
Perhaps she wishes too they were reveal'd.
Though now my faultering tongue its aid denies,
She must have read the language of my soul,
Nor have I mark'd displeasure in her eyes,
When forth from mine the glance of Love has stole.
She must have read the language of my soul,
Nor have I mark'd displeasure in her eyes,
When forth from mine the glance of Love has stole.
Then turning round in haste, as if afraid
Lest Diffidence again might intervene,
Not daring to erect my timid head,
My hesitating lips disclos'd my pain.
Lest Diffidence again might intervene,
Not daring to erect my timid head,
My hesitating lips disclos'd my pain.
82
FINIS.
| The Land of the Muses | |