Poems By The Reverend Mr. Hoyland

Hoyland, Francis (1727-1786)

ODES BY Mr. HOYLAND.

ODE I. To his Guardian Angel.

II.

ODE II. To a Nightingale.

III.

ODE III. To a Friend, With a borrowed Guinea returned.

IV.

ODE IV. On Rural Happiness.

ODE V. To Sleep.

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ODES BY Mr. HOYLAND.

ODE I. To his Guardian Angel.

I

Sweet Angel of my natal Hour!
Thou to whose tutelary Pow'r
My infant Days were giv'n!
My bosom Friend! Companion dear!
For ever kind, for ever near,
While such the Will of Heav'n!

II

By thee inspir'd, the live-long Day
Roll'd lightly on in Peace and Play,
Calm Slumbers crown'd the Night;
By thee, and simple Nature drawn,
E'er Reason spread her glimm'ring Dawn,
I sought, and found Delight.

III

'Twas thou, whene'er I rang'd the Mead,
That drew me from the pois'nous Weed
Of tempting purple Dye;
That drew me from the fatal Brake,
Where coil'd in speckled Pride the Snake
Allur'd my longing Eye.

IV

Ah, why so soon to Reason's Hand
Didst thou resign th'imperial Wand,
Why yield the ruling Rein?
With thee are all my Comforts fled,
And Woes on endless Woes succeed,
A dire and gloomy Train!

V

Can Zephyr hush the surging Seas,
Or whisper Silence in a Breeze,
When Boreas sweeps the Flood?
Can the soft Virgin's Voice restrain
The midnight Howlings of the Plain,
When Lyons roar for Food?

VI

So weak is Reason to controul,
Or sooth the Tempests of the Soul,
When torn by Passions wild;
Tho' soft the Sound as Zephyrs Wing,
That whispers Tidings of the Spring,
As Voice of Virgin, mild.

VII

Come then, resume thy guardian Pow'r,
Sweet Angel of my natal Hour,
To whom the Charge was giv'n!
Once more receive me to thy Care,
For ever kind, for ever near,
If such the Will of Heav'n.

ODE II. To a Nightingale.

I.

Coy Bird of Eve! whose solitary Note
I catch imperfect from a Spray remote,
(While num'rous Ecchoes down the Vale
Convey the melancholy Tale)
Still nearer to my lonely Cell
Bring all thy Woes, sweet Philomel!

II.

Around that Cell no verdant Bowers
With careless Elegance inwove,
Or Shrubs adorn'd with early Flowers
Exhaling Fragrance court thy Love;

Yet think not to a heedless Ear
Thy Throat will vainly warble here:
Thy liquid Lays enchant my Soul
Wakeful, as yonder starry Pole:
Then, nearer to my lonely Cell
Bring all thy Woes, sweet Philomel.

III.

If I deny the hospitable Bough,
(Foe to the pensive Genius of the Shades)
May yonder beechen Glades
Their salutary Gloom no more display,
To intercept the Dog-Star's fiery Ray
From my devoted Brow!
May never Music sooth my Breast,
But the funereal Bird, unblest,
Harrow with Shrieks, that fright the dawning Day!
Witness, ye neighb'ring Alleys green!
Do I not rove, where Woodbines twine,
And call each branching Oak, divine,
Enraptur'd with the sylvan Scene?
Then nearer to my lonely Cell
Bring all thy Woes, sweet Philomel.

IV.

Were once my ardent Wishes crown'd,
A new Elyzium waving round,
Would empty ev'ry Forest nigh
Of all their native Melody:
But Fate, inexorable Fate,
Not ev'n thy Sounds can mitigate:
Then pardon, gentle Bird, the Wrong;
And, at my Window perching light,
Pour thy sweet Breast: attentive Night
Will o'er these Bounds her solemn Reign prolong.

ODE III. To a Friend, With a borrowed Guinea returned.

I

Auspicious Orb! whose chearful Glow
Dispells the sable Clouds of Woe;
And circling this terrestrial Ball
Like the gay Sun enlivens all;

II

Remitted to a gracious Friend,
My undissembled Love commend;
And (such the Interest Poets pay)
Chink in his Ear this moral Lay.

III

“Lo, I return with brighter Beam!
“Beneficence refines my Gleam:
“O may I ever sacred be
“To Friendship and Humanity!

IV

“So shall my Rays, when yonder Light
“Is shaded in eternal Night,
“Above the Wreck of Nature rise,
“And glitter in immortal Eyes.”

ODE IV. On Rural Happiness.

I

How deeply blue th'etherial Space,
With burning Stars enamell'd o'er!
The Snow-clad Hills on Night's grim Face
A pale and dreadful Lustre pour.

II

Welcome sad Season of the Year,
And Midnight stern, and howling Wind!
Horrors, that fright the Wolf and Bear,
Serve but to sooth my wilder Mind.

III

On this rude Cliff's tremendous Brow,
Ne'er touch'd by rosy-finger'd Spring,
Where never Swain was heard to blow
The warbling Reed, or Bird to sing,

IV

I stand: around, in ample View,
The subject Meads, and Forests lie,
And silent Streams, whose Surface blue
Reflects the Moon and starry Sky:

V

And mingled Cottages appear,
Where Sleep his genuine Dew bestows,
And young Content a Cherub fair
Still smooths the Pillow of Repose.

VI

Here Peace, and Heav'n-born Virtue, reign
Unrivall'd: on the Margin green
Of wrinkled Rill, in Grove, or Plain,
The smiling Pair is ever seen.

VII

Before the Lustre of their Eyes,
(As Shades before the Morning Ray)
Each Soul-distemp'ring Passion flies
To crouded Halls, and Cities gay.

VIII

Av'rice with fancied Wants forlorn,
Meagre his Look, his Mantle rude;
And stern-eyed Envy inly torn
By the fell Worm, that drinks his Blood.

IX

Mistaken Jealousy, that weeps
O'er the pale Corse himself has gor'd;
And dire Revenge, that never sleeps,
Still calls for Blood, still shakes the Sword.

X

Restless Ambition, roaming o'er
Th'affrighted Globe; where'er he treads,
The Fields are drench'd in human Gore,
And Cities bow their tow'ry Heads.

XI

Loud Discontent, and dumb Despair,
Suspicion, glancing oft behind;
And slighted Love with frantic Air
Blaspheming Heav'n, and Stars unkind.

XII

Thrice happy Swains! your silent Hours
These midnight Furies ne'er molest;
Furies, that climb the loftiest Tow'rs,
And tear the splendid Tyrant's Breast.

XIII

Sleep on, blest Innocents, secure!
Soon will the wintry Storms be flown;
Soon comes the Springtide, breathing pure,
And Summer Suns are all your own.

ODE V. To Sleep.

I

Offspring of Night, whose languid Visage wears
Death's milder Lineaments! thy friendly Art
With lenient Balm the drooping Soul repairs,
And in a sweet Oblivion laps the Heart.
Come, gentle Queen! thy noiseless Wings diffuse,
And, o'er my humble Cell, ah! shake thy opiate Dews.

II

The vent'rous Seaman, mid the rocking Shrouds,
Touch'd with thy potent Wand, his Toil foregoes;
And while loud Billows mingle with the Clouds,
Hangs on the Mast in terrible Repose;
Stretch'd on his Shield beneath tempestuous Skies,
Thou bid'st the Warrior close his formidable Eyes.

III

Then why, capricious Pow'r! to me delay'd
Thy Blessings? Peace protects my rural Hill:
These tranquil Haunts no ruder Sounds invade
Than drowzy Murmurs from a falling Rill;
Than the warm-whisper'd Sigh, when Lovers true,
Beneath their fav'rite Oak the tender Vow renew.

IV

I know, and I applaud thy virtuous Pride;
Thou wilt not lull the Traitor's perjur'd Head:
Let mute Attendants guard their Patron's Side,
And Tapers burn, as round the noble Dead;
Yet still he wakes; yon Falchion gleaming nigh
Betrays his guilty Fears; that groan his Misery.

V

I know, that from the impure Recess of Lust,
The ghastly Ruffian's Floor with Slaughter red,
Thou fly'st; and bid'st stern Conscience ever just
With all her Furies haunt th'accursed Bed;
While hideous Shrieks and livid Light appall
The Traveller wand'ring near th'inhospitable Wall.

VI

I know, that all the Treasures of the West,
Or precious Gems, that eastern Quarries hold,
Wou'd ne'er from thee obtain one Hour of Rest
For the pale Slave, whose Bosom pines for Gold:
Not all that Nature's azure Round contains,
Would bribe thee to the Roof where Hell-born Malice reigns.

VII

But am I these? My Soul indignant spurns
The lying Imputation: yet, betray'd
To various Ills in Dust and Ashes mourns
Her Ardours quench'd, her vivid Pow'rs decay'd:
Misfortune opes her Quiver; ling'ring Pain,
And Sickness, dip the Darts in more than Indian Bane.

VIII

Some lofty Minds, that boast a firmer Frame,
Adversity's rough Storms undaunted bear;
Their Faculties expanding brighter Flame,
Like Beacons blazing in a ruffled Air;
But in my feeble Heart the Spark divine
Fades as a dying Lamp, and all its Hopes decline.

IX

Ah, when shall I, soft Sleep, thy Influence find?
What happy Clime the gentle Charm will yield?
Waft me, ye Sails, where blows the tepid Wind
O'er Orange Groves, where Citron strew the Field!
Ah, no! mid these my hapless Youth has stray'd,
Nor met thy soothing Smiles beneath the fragrant Shade.

X

Is there a Sage, whose philosophic Mind,
Lur'd by the Moon's wan Lustre, upward springs
Swift as the darted Beam; and, unconfin'd
Its Flight thro' planetary Wonders wings?
There may'st thou well thy useless Power restrain,
Nor with lethargic Clouds his bright Conceptions stain.

XI

Is there a Bard, who in seraphic Lays
(Sublime, and fill'd with spirit-piercing Fire)
Pours to yon list'ning Orbs his Maker's Praise?
'Twere Sacrilege to hush the holy Lyre:
A Voice forbids; and Angels glitt'ring round
Strike their symphonious Harps; while Earth and Heav'n resound.

XII

But when, like me, some pensive Wretch withdrawn
Far from the World within the darkling Grove
From dewy-finger'd Eve to purple Dawn,
Bemoans his Suff'rings, like a wounded Dove;
'Tis thine to give that Boon, which now I crave,
Repose profound as Death, and silent as the Grave.

XIII

I plead in vain; regardless of my Woe
No Strain can win thee to this flutt'ring Breast;
Yet soon that Grave shall lay my Sorrows low,
Where mingled sleep th'Oppressor and Opprest;
Till Heav'n to one eternal Morn restore
My ravish'd Eyes; and thou, and Death shall be no more.

FINIS.

This is not said in the ordinary Way of descriptive Poetry, where nothing more is meant than mere picturesque Ornament. The Author had really made the Experiment he here mentions, by a Voyage to the Leeward Islands.

University of Virginia Library

ODES BY Mr. HOYLAND.

ODE I. To his Guardian Angel.

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

ODE II. To a Nightingale.

I.

II.

III.

IV.

ODE III. To a Friend, With a borrowed Guinea returned.

I

II

III

IV

ODE IV. On Rural Happiness.

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

IX

X

XI

XII

XIII

ODE V. To Sleep.

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

IX

X

XI

XII

XIII