The Works of John Hookham Frere In Verse and Prose Now First Collected with a Prefatory Memoir by his Nephews W. E. and Sir Bartle Frere |
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CONTRIBUTIONS TO THE
MICROCOSM. |
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| II. |
 | The Works of John Hookham Frere In Verse and Prose |  |
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CONTRIBUTIONS TO THE MICROCOSM.
MONDAY, NOVEMBER 27, 1786.
“I demens et sævas curre per Alpes,
Ut Pueris placeas et declamatio fias.”—
Juvenal.
Ut Pueris placeas et declamatio fias.”—
Juvenal.
“Climb o'er the Alps, thou rash, ambitious fool,
To please the boys, and be a theme at school.”—
Dryden.
To please the boys, and be a theme at school.”—
Dryden.
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I.
Within the sounding quiver's hollow wombRepose the darts of praise and harmony;
Goddess, draw forth the chosen shaft; at whom
Shall the swift arrows of the muses fly?
By the great almighty mind
For man's highly favour'd race
Various blessings were design'd,
Bounties of superior grace;
Here the fat and fertile ground
Waves the flood of harvest round;
Or fervid wine's ecstatic juice
Cluster-curved vines produce;
A sullen land of lazy lakes
Rhine slowly winding to the ocean makes,
This rescued from the eager wave
Human art has dared to save,
While o'er each foggy pool and cheerless fen
Hums the busy buzz of men.
A warlike nation bent on deathful deeds
From daring actions safety seeks, and fame,
Rush through the ranks, where'er the battle bleeds,
Or whirl their neighing coursers through the flame.
The Indian youth beneath the shade
More loves repose and peace,
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Sings indolence and ease.
II.
Thus far with unerring handAll ruling providence has plann'd,
Thus far impartial to divide
Nor all to one, nor one to all denied.
But Order, heav'n-descended queen,
Where'er you deign to go,
Alone you fix the bounds between
Our happiness and woe,
Nor wealth, nor peace, nor without thee
Heav'n's first best bounty, Liberty,
Can bless our native land.
Then come, O nymph! and o'er this isle
Dispense thy soul-subduing smile,
And stretch thy lenient hand.
III.
Before time was, before the DayShot through the skies his golden ray,
A sightless mass, a wasteful wild
Tumultuous gulph, was all this fair creation,
Till you the shapeless chaos reconciled,
Each part commanding to its proper station!
Then hills upheaved their verdant head,
Above a purer sky was spread,
And Ocean floated in his ample bed;
Then first creeping to the main
Rivers drew their tortuous train;
Then from her fertile womb the earth
Brought forth at one ample birth,
All that through the waste of sky
Borne on oary pinions fly,
Or through the deep's dark caverns roam,
And wallowing dash the sea to foam.
Tutor'd by your guiding sway,
The planets trace their pathless way,
The seasons in their order'd dance
In grateful interchange advance!
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O'er favour'd man to stretch thy reign?
Then shall sedition's tempest cease,
The dashing storm be hush'd to peace,
The angry seas no longer roar,
But gently rolling kiss the shore,
While from the wave-worn rock the troubled waters pour.
IV.
When poised athwart the lurid air,The sword of vengeance pours a sanguine ray,
Or comets from their stream of blazing hair
Shake the blue pestilence, and adverse sway
Of refluous battle, o'er some high-viced land;
Through the sick air the power of poison flies,
By gentler breezes now no longer fann'd,
Sultry and still; the native breathes and dies.
Yet often free from selfish fear
The son attends his father's bed,
Nor will disdain the social tear
In pleasing painful mood to shed.—
When childing pine and cheerless penury,
Stretch o'er some needy house their wither'd hand,
Where modest want alone retires to die,
Yet social love has shed her influence bland,
To cheer the sullen gloom of poverty.
For 'tis decreed, that every social joy,
In its partition should be multiplied,
Still be the same, nor know the least alloy,
Though sympathy to thousands should divide
Our pleasures; but when urged by dire distress,
The grief by others felt is made the less.
V.
Not so the ills sedition sows,Midst sever'd friends, and kindred foes;
When the horrid joy of all
Embitters ev'ry private fall.
Creeping from her secret source
Sedition holds her silent course,
With wat'ry weeds and sordid sedge
Skirting her unnoted edge,
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She sweeps along the fertile grounds;
And as in sullen solemn state she glides,
Receives into her train the tributary tides;
Then rushing headlong from some craggy steep
She pours impetuous down and hurries to the deep.
Ah! luckless he, who o'er the tide
Shall hope his fragile bark to guide;
While secure his sail is spread
The waves shall thunder o'er his head;
But if, long tempest-tost, once more
His crazy bark regain the shore,
There shall he sit and long lament
His youthful vigour vainly spent;
And others warn, but warn, alas! in vain,
In unambitious safety to remain.
Then happy he who to the gale
Nor trusts too much the varying sail,
Nor rashly launching forth amain
Attempts the terrors of the wat'ry plain;
But watchful, wary, when he sees
The ocean black beneath the breeze,
The cheerless sky with clouds o'erspread,
And darkness gath'ring round his head,
Trusts not too far, but hastes to seek
The shelter of some winding creek;
Thence sees the waves by whirlwinds tost,
And rash ambition's vessel lost;
Hears the mad pilot late deplore,
The shifting sail, the faithless oar,
And hears the shriek of death, the shriek that's heard no more.
| The Works of John Hookham Frere In Verse and Prose | |