The Fanciad An Heroic Poem. In Six Cantos. To His Grace the Duke of Marlborough, On The Turn of His Genius to Arms [by Aaron Hill] |
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| I. |
| II. | CANTO II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
 | The Fanciad |  |
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CANTO II.
Th' immortal Spirit stopp'd.—'Twas Light no more:
Black refluent Shadows gloom'd the Lustres o'er.
Sweet, in slow Falls, the soft'ning Notes decay:
And, lost in loose Expansion, die away.
Charm'd hung the filial Virtue, fix'd profound:
List'ning, and length'ning out the last, lov'd Sound.
Till silent Horror, touching cold, as Death,
Struck, and drove inward, his suspended Breath.
Wond'ring, he turn'd—and, near th'admissive Door,
Met a pale Gleam, that crawl'd along the Floor.
Mid the streak'd Greyness of the dusky Ray,
Dwelt an imperfect Shape, that barr'd his Way.
Angry and fierce it seem'd: yet, came not on.
Formless, and indistinct, It dimly shone.
Tongues, from a War of Heads, loud Jargon threw:
Feet, without Number, strode, with struggling View.
Hands battling Hands, Feet Feet, Tongue crossing Tongue,
One endless Length of aimless Larum rung:
Idly, contentious! Limb to Limb unkind—
Yet, the whole busy Bug-bear weak, and blind!
Black refluent Shadows gloom'd the Lustres o'er.
Sweet, in slow Falls, the soft'ning Notes decay:
And, lost in loose Expansion, die away.
Charm'd hung the filial Virtue, fix'd profound:
List'ning, and length'ning out the last, lov'd Sound.
Till silent Horror, touching cold, as Death,
Struck, and drove inward, his suspended Breath.
Wond'ring, he turn'd—and, near th'admissive Door,
Met a pale Gleam, that crawl'd along the Floor.
Mid the streak'd Greyness of the dusky Ray,
Dwelt an imperfect Shape, that barr'd his Way.
Angry and fierce it seem'd: yet, came not on.
Formless, and indistinct, It dimly shone.
Tongues, from a War of Heads, loud Jargon threw:
Feet, without Number, strode, with struggling View.
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One endless Length of aimless Larum rung:
Idly, contentious! Limb to Limb unkind—
Yet, the whole busy Bug-bear weak, and blind!
Need it be told?—'Twas Faction's imag'd Soul,
Faction! that shakes the World, from Pole to Pole.
Plaintive, forever, never un-distrest:
Destroy'd, by Motion, yet despising Rest!
Builds, and confounds, with never-ceasing Din:
Without, All Thunder! and All Smoke, within!
Faction! that shakes the World, from Pole to Pole.
Plaintive, forever, never un-distrest:
Destroy'd, by Motion, yet despising Rest!
Builds, and confounds, with never-ceasing Din:
Without, All Thunder! and All Smoke, within!
What wouldst thou do, th'illusive Scare-crow cry'd—
What mad Presumption moves thy martial Pride?
Are These fit Times? shall Want's weak Blows restrain
Steel-handed France, and Silver-breasted Spain?
Bats might, as well, pounce Eagles!—Curs, as soon,
Yelping their midnight Howls, bark down the Moon!
Fame? 'tis Romantic!—Liberty's at Stake.
Our Ground-work rises: and our Pillars shake.
Ere, stop-gap Stakes, in foreign Fields, we stand,
Mark, what Home Breaches ask a Mender's Hand.
When Freedom's Friends can sep'rate Int'rest slight,
When Valour finds no Foes, but Those in Fight;
Then, Patriot Tints may touch that hueless Race,
Whose Pray'r is Pension, and whose God is Place.
Then, conscious Thought th'Elect's loose Joke reclaim,
Who buys th'Elector's Right to laugh at Shame.
Then, Boys in Senates, veil'd in manlier Air,
Absolve th'unthinking Choice, that plac'd 'em there.
Stripp'd to the naked Soul, light Slaves of Dress,
Who live for Pastime in a State's Distress,
Wond'ring at Pow'r to blush, may, then, first, find,
That more than Tailor goes, to make a Mind.
What mad Presumption moves thy martial Pride?
Are These fit Times? shall Want's weak Blows restrain
Steel-handed France, and Silver-breasted Spain?
Bats might, as well, pounce Eagles!—Curs, as soon,
Yelping their midnight Howls, bark down the Moon!
Fame? 'tis Romantic!—Liberty's at Stake.
Our Ground-work rises: and our Pillars shake.
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Mark, what Home Breaches ask a Mender's Hand.
When Freedom's Friends can sep'rate Int'rest slight,
When Valour finds no Foes, but Those in Fight;
Then, Patriot Tints may touch that hueless Race,
Whose Pray'r is Pension, and whose God is Place.
Then, conscious Thought th'Elect's loose Joke reclaim,
Who buys th'Elector's Right to laugh at Shame.
Then, Boys in Senates, veil'd in manlier Air,
Absolve th'unthinking Choice, that plac'd 'em there.
Stripp'd to the naked Soul, light Slaves of Dress,
Who live for Pastime in a State's Distress,
Wond'ring at Pow'r to blush, may, then, first, find,
That more than Tailor goes, to make a Mind.
Try, cry'd an interruptive Tide of Tongue,
Old Wills to quicken, or unfire the Young.
Reason the Brib'd, to Dread, of courted Shame:
Bid the neglected Proud sit pleas'd, and tame.
Teach Shops, for Virtue, to relinquish Gain.
Teach Indolence and Ease, to rev'rence Pain.
From Love's loose Garland, break the Soft away.
Call off keen Sportsmen, to sublimer Prey.
Teach flatt'ring Priests to damn th'advowzon'd Friend:
Bid flatt'ring Pens discarded Worth defend.
Then, Love of Fame may strike a Soul-sunk Race:
And rouse insulted Fleghm, to feel Disgrace!
Till then—fond Ardour!—Whence shou'd Vict'ry come?
Why wave yon Ensigns? and why beats that Drum?
Why pours that Trumpet forth it's angry Strains?—
—Mark the capp'd Racers, of those gentler Plains!
Frighted, they fly dispers'd, from Plates un-won:
As Rooks rise, kaw-full, round th'alarming Gun!
Old Wills to quicken, or unfire the Young.
Reason the Brib'd, to Dread, of courted Shame:
Bid the neglected Proud sit pleas'd, and tame.
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Teach Indolence and Ease, to rev'rence Pain.
From Love's loose Garland, break the Soft away.
Call off keen Sportsmen, to sublimer Prey.
Teach flatt'ring Priests to damn th'advowzon'd Friend:
Bid flatt'ring Pens discarded Worth defend.
Then, Love of Fame may strike a Soul-sunk Race:
And rouse insulted Fleghm, to feel Disgrace!
Till then—fond Ardour!—Whence shou'd Vict'ry come?
Why wave yon Ensigns? and why beats that Drum?
Why pours that Trumpet forth it's angry Strains?—
—Mark the capp'd Racers, of those gentler Plains!
Frighted, they fly dispers'd, from Plates un-won:
As Rooks rise, kaw-full, round th'alarming Gun!
Whence, ye pale Pow'rs! should War derive Success,
If Swords are padlock'd, to prevent Redress?
O, dire Dis-relish of derided Fame!
Thou sink'st Ambition, into Self's low Claim:
In sensual Fetters bind'st the sneaking Heart;
And know'st no Blessing, if thou shar'st no Part.
Thine, the Corruptor's Whisper! Thine, the Sneer,
That, to bought Baseness, lends the witling Fleer!
Thine, the chain'd Ay, that longs to dare dissent:
Yet, backward, winds th'unductile Argument.
Thine, the poor Craft, where Question courts Delay,
Till Ranks, too thin, can mend their loose Array,
Ek'd, in long, wrangling Drawl, to tire Debate:
Load the tugg'd Ear, and bid Decision wait.
Thine, the mouth'd Cerberus, whose Bark frights Hell;
Till (the Sop swallow'd) All is hush'd, and well.
If Swords are padlock'd, to prevent Redress?
O, dire Dis-relish of derided Fame!
Thou sink'st Ambition, into Self's low Claim:
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And know'st no Blessing, if thou shar'st no Part.
Thine, the Corruptor's Whisper! Thine, the Sneer,
That, to bought Baseness, lends the witling Fleer!
Thine, the chain'd Ay, that longs to dare dissent:
Yet, backward, winds th'unductile Argument.
Thine, the poor Craft, where Question courts Delay,
Till Ranks, too thin, can mend their loose Array,
Ek'd, in long, wrangling Drawl, to tire Debate:
Load the tugg'd Ear, and bid Decision wait.
Thine, the mouth'd Cerberus, whose Bark frights Hell;
Till (the Sop swallow'd) All is hush'd, and well.
Out-bursting here, fierce Roars, with Roars combin'd,
Mix'd their clash'd Curses, wild as fighting Wind.
Some charging, some recriminating spoke;
And, first and loudest, out This Torrent broke.
Curs'd be the Wretch,—if such a Wretch there be,
Curs'd, till no Devil is half so damn'd, as He!
Who, working upward, in fermenting Times,
With Trick of Talking, and a Cloak for Crimes,
Ris'n to a Pitch too dreadful for his Brain,
Looks down with Horror; yet, crawls on, with Pain:
And, inly trembling, for his own fear'd Fall,
Buys one Man's Safety, with the Rights of All.
Who, neither nerv'd for War, nor brain'd for Peace,
Shepherds the hounded Flock, to filch the Fleece.
Maz'd, amid clueless Folds of timid Care,
Still hunts Evasion: and still starts Despair.
Winds, and un-winds; and, weaving Error's Nets,
In all the puzzling Plunge of Myst'ry, sweats.
With Mind audacious, but with Heart afraid,
Invites Assaulters, by seducing Aid:
Whose Means too narrow, and whose Ends too bold;
Retreats too hasty, and Resolves too cold.
Whose Dread is Penetration,—Jest, Regret—
Whose War is See-saw, and whose Peace is Debt.
Who bears his Country's Wrongs, buys off his own:
Or cries, Pelt on—and skulks behind a Throne.
—Such if there live, so lost, in Public Trust,
Thus, let Corruption hear her Dæmon curs'd!
Mix'd their clash'd Curses, wild as fighting Wind.
Some charging, some recriminating spoke;
And, first and loudest, out This Torrent broke.
Curs'd be the Wretch,—if such a Wretch there be,
Curs'd, till no Devil is half so damn'd, as He!
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With Trick of Talking, and a Cloak for Crimes,
Ris'n to a Pitch too dreadful for his Brain,
Looks down with Horror; yet, crawls on, with Pain:
And, inly trembling, for his own fear'd Fall,
Buys one Man's Safety, with the Rights of All.
Who, neither nerv'd for War, nor brain'd for Peace,
Shepherds the hounded Flock, to filch the Fleece.
Maz'd, amid clueless Folds of timid Care,
Still hunts Evasion: and still starts Despair.
Winds, and un-winds; and, weaving Error's Nets,
In all the puzzling Plunge of Myst'ry, sweats.
With Mind audacious, but with Heart afraid,
Invites Assaulters, by seducing Aid:
Whose Means too narrow, and whose Ends too bold;
Retreats too hasty, and Resolves too cold.
Whose Dread is Penetration,—Jest, Regret—
Whose War is See-saw, and whose Peace is Debt.
Who bears his Country's Wrongs, buys off his own:
Or cries, Pelt on—and skulks behind a Throne.
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Thus, let Corruption hear her Dæmon curs'd!
Then, hostile Sounds on Sounds, invasive broke:
And diff'rent Powers, with diff'rent Vows, invoke.
Frenzy, from disappointed Hope! they cry'd;
Curses, for Curses, blast your spleenful Pride!
Be doubly curs'd, ye dire, malignant, Minds;
Whom Envy cankers,—not Confusion blinds!
Who, piqu'd at Person, disregard Intent:
And smoth'ring Conscience, give Detraction vent!
With bitter Foretaste, pre-enjoy the Woe,
Your Friend must weep at—for, 'twill hurt your Foe.
Untaught the godlike Power, the gen'rous Art,
To shame the Judgment, yet attract the Heart:
Untaught the patriot Pang, to hold back Sense
Of private Wrongs,—in Public Preference:
To aid, and guide, Perverseness, you despise;
To pour Discernment on unthankful Eyes:
To serve your Country, tho' your Schemes are cross'd:
To task your Pity, at your Anger's Cost:
And, nobly lending an Opposer Weight,
Wreathe the lost Laurel, for a Head you hate.
And diff'rent Powers, with diff'rent Vows, invoke.
Frenzy, from disappointed Hope! they cry'd;
Curses, for Curses, blast your spleenful Pride!
Be doubly curs'd, ye dire, malignant, Minds;
Whom Envy cankers,—not Confusion blinds!
Who, piqu'd at Person, disregard Intent:
And smoth'ring Conscience, give Detraction vent!
With bitter Foretaste, pre-enjoy the Woe,
Your Friend must weep at—for, 'twill hurt your Foe.
Untaught the godlike Power, the gen'rous Art,
To shame the Judgment, yet attract the Heart:
Untaught the patriot Pang, to hold back Sense
Of private Wrongs,—in Public Preference:
To aid, and guide, Perverseness, you despise;
To pour Discernment on unthankful Eyes:
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To task your Pity, at your Anger's Cost:
And, nobly lending an Opposer Weight,
Wreathe the lost Laurel, for a Head you hate.
Swift, from above, down rush'd a Flood of Light,
And, rolling radiant, swept the Fiend of Night.
Up flew the Fury.—Raving loud she rose,
And o'er the Roof, out-bursting, louder grows:
Augusta hears: and, thro' her marbly Throats,
Winding, re-multiplies the clashing Notes.
Broad Execration, thence, extending fast,
From circling Millions, swells th'expanded Blast.
Round her, above, below, enrag'd Despair
Rings thro' the Winds, and climbs the vocal Air.
Concurring Slander meets th'assisted Sound,
And, in reverb'rate Tempest, drives it round:
Rock-ribb'd Cornavia joins old Cantium's Roar.
Thence, the voic'd Earthquake shakes th'East-Anglian Shore.
Northward, increas'd, and wid'ning as it goes,
O'er the sky'd Grampian, deaf'ning Clamour flows.
Consenting Mona hugs th'excursive Blast:
And moist Iérne hears, and howls, the Last!
And, rolling radiant, swept the Fiend of Night.
Up flew the Fury.—Raving loud she rose,
And o'er the Roof, out-bursting, louder grows:
Augusta hears: and, thro' her marbly Throats,
Winding, re-multiplies the clashing Notes.
Broad Execration, thence, extending fast,
From circling Millions, swells th'expanded Blast.
Round her, above, below, enrag'd Despair
Rings thro' the Winds, and climbs the vocal Air.
Concurring Slander meets th'assisted Sound,
And, in reverb'rate Tempest, drives it round:
Rock-ribb'd Cornavia joins old Cantium's Roar.
Thence, the voic'd Earthquake shakes th'East-Anglian Shore.
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O'er the sky'd Grampian, deaf'ning Clamour flows.
Consenting Mona hugs th'excursive Blast:
And moist Iérne hears, and howls, the Last!
| The Fanciad | |