 | Dartmoor, and other poems |  |
3
DARTMOOR.
ARGUMENT.
Distant view of Dartmoor. Ascent up its side. Cultivation succeeded by barrenness. Lofty rock. Mountain springs. Flowers of Dartmoor. Effects of a sudden storm on the streams and rivers of Dartmoor. Moss. View from the highest Peak. The wildness of such scenery not according with England. Solitary traveller. Peat. Pannier-horses. Colts. A cottage. The housewife. The sire. The children. Comforts of cottage life. Druids. Their traces visible on Dartmoor. Incompetency of Science, Learning, Nature, or Genius, to correct Idolatry, and to teach the knowledge of the true God. Apostrophe to pure Religion. Reference to the ancient Britons, who, after their defeat, retired beyond Dartmoor. Pursued by the enemy. Storms and sterility dismay the Saxons. Changes on the Earth effected by man. Proposed Asylum on Dartmoor for the pauper children of London. Anticipations. Character of Devonshire. Conclusion.
What hills are those, deserted, brown, and bare,
Whose mouldering crags the spoils of Time declare?
Dartmoor! thy stately presence I perceive,
Seen first at morn, and lingering last with eve;
Thy rugged pinnacles, unfolded clear,
Rising in solemn grandeur, wild, and drear.
Whose mouldering crags the spoils of Time declare?
Dartmoor! thy stately presence I perceive,
Seen first at morn, and lingering last with eve;
Thy rugged pinnacles, unfolded clear,
Rising in solemn grandeur, wild, and drear.
Mounting thy sides, and musing as I go,
Streams, oozing from their source, beside me flow,
Traced by the flag; their motion, as they stray,
Known by the Sun's slant beams that on them play:
Larks, faintly heard, my weary steps beguile,
And, warm with promise, all things speak and smile.
Onward I press, yet still before me rise,
Peaks, grey from age, their home among the skies.
As Nature's mild and gentler forms depart,
A sterner feeling sinks into my heart:
The waving corn, the “hum” of human kind,
The paths familiar, far are left behind,
And to th'horizon's dim-discover'd bound,
Heaths, strew'd with granite fragments, reign around.
So, on her course, when first the Bark proceeds,
The port, the shore, at every glance recedes;
'Till forward borne, as favouring billows roll,
Each object fades that lingers near the soul.
Streams, oozing from their source, beside me flow,
Traced by the flag; their motion, as they stray,
Known by the Sun's slant beams that on them play:
Larks, faintly heard, my weary steps beguile,
And, warm with promise, all things speak and smile.
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Peaks, grey from age, their home among the skies.
As Nature's mild and gentler forms depart,
A sterner feeling sinks into my heart:
The waving corn, the “hum” of human kind,
The paths familiar, far are left behind,
And to th'horizon's dim-discover'd bound,
Heaths, strew'd with granite fragments, reign around.
So, on her course, when first the Bark proceeds,
The port, the shore, at every glance recedes;
'Till forward borne, as favouring billows roll,
Each object fades that lingers near the soul.
Approaching now a Torr of towering height,
Where huge Rock-Idols awe while they invite,
In silence, I survey the prospect round,
Vales clothed with fern, and hills with ruins crown'd.
By slender aid from fancy (which can give
Nerve to the feeble, make the breathless live),
Imposing structures glisten in the Sun,
Completed often, oftener just begun,
Base, architrave, and outstretch'd columns fair,
Promiscuous cast, and whitening in the air,
Save when, to change the sameness of the scene,
Lichen and Archil spot with red and green.
Whether primeval cliffs, by slow decay,
Have crumbled till yon shapes they now display;
Or they were thus by force volcanic thrown,
Or heap'd, by power of mortal, stone on stone,
In times when men yoked lions to their car,
Nothing is certain—but that “there they are.”
Where huge Rock-Idols awe while they invite,
In silence, I survey the prospect round,
Vales clothed with fern, and hills with ruins crown'd.
By slender aid from fancy (which can give
Nerve to the feeble, make the breathless live),
Imposing structures glisten in the Sun,
Completed often, oftener just begun,
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Promiscuous cast, and whitening in the air,
Save when, to change the sameness of the scene,
Lichen and Archil spot with red and green.
Whether primeval cliffs, by slow decay,
Have crumbled till yon shapes they now display;
Or they were thus by force volcanic thrown,
Or heap'd, by power of mortal, stone on stone,
In times when men yoked lions to their car,
Nothing is certain—but that “there they are.”
On yonder mount, where crags unnumber'd lie,
Too poor for praise, too mean for rivalry,
One lordly rock his head disdainful rears,
Braving the tempests of a thousand years—
The dark and gloomy giant of the waste,
Whom eve-o'ertaken travellers pass in haste,
And gazing at his front, austere and rude,
Start at the wizard haunts of solitude.
Too poor for praise, too mean for rivalry,
One lordly rock his head disdainful rears,
Braving the tempests of a thousand years—
The dark and gloomy giant of the waste,
Whom eve-o'ertaken travellers pass in haste,
And gazing at his front, austere and rude,
Start at the wizard haunts of solitude.
Ascending still; each moment to my eyes,
New wilds extend, and prouder summits rise.
The limpid streams, so late that tortuous ran
Down Dartmoor's sides, when first my toil began;
Boasting no name, by dews nocturnal fed,
And early lost 'mid reeds that near them spread:
Such now have vanish'd, while a nobler train,
From loftier springs, pass boist'rous to the plain;
Winding through hollows in their mazy round,
And to the sea, howe'er diverted, bound.
These speed through banks that wrath departed show,
The neutral soil where herbs forbear to grow;
Through devious paths with hoarse impatience glide,
'Neath brambles oft, which matted straws bestride:
Dangling with every breeze, detain'd, when last
Bearing their spoils, the floods imperious past.
Some simple flowers, attendant, fresh and fair,
Shed grateful perfumes on the “desert air;”
“Sweet-gale,” and “Thyme,” and “Spleenwort” here expand,
“Dwarf-raspb'ries” that confess th'ungenial land;
“Daisies,” in every nook of verdure found,
Or “Violets,” that empurple far the ground;
The “Sun-dew” pure, her crystal drop descried,
And thou, tall “Foxglove!” still Danmonium's pride.
New wilds extend, and prouder summits rise.
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Down Dartmoor's sides, when first my toil began;
Boasting no name, by dews nocturnal fed,
And early lost 'mid reeds that near them spread:
Such now have vanish'd, while a nobler train,
From loftier springs, pass boist'rous to the plain;
Winding through hollows in their mazy round,
And to the sea, howe'er diverted, bound.
These speed through banks that wrath departed show,
The neutral soil where herbs forbear to grow;
Through devious paths with hoarse impatience glide,
'Neath brambles oft, which matted straws bestride:
Dangling with every breeze, detain'd, when last
Bearing their spoils, the floods imperious past.
Some simple flowers, attendant, fresh and fair,
Shed grateful perfumes on the “desert air;”
“Sweet-gale,” and “Thyme,” and “Spleenwort” here expand,
“Dwarf-raspb'ries” that confess th'ungenial land;
“Daisies,” in every nook of verdure found,
Or “Violets,” that empurple far the ground;
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And thou, tall “Foxglove!” still Danmonium's pride.
The mists, that round yon Peak concent'ring spread,
Changes portend that mountain dwellers dread.
Clouds, dense and lowering, throng the western sky;
A pause proclaims aerial conflicts nigh,
Save when, (the equal prelude that dismays)
On summits bleak, the winds their voices raise,
Heard in the stillness, like the sullen roar
From Ocean's distant wave-assaulted shore.
Now storms conflicting burst upon the ear;
The wild-goat hurries to his covert near—
Whilst quivering flags before the tempest bend,
Rains, with brief warning, torrent-like descend;
And the loud gust, ascending peal on peal,
Comes with a might that probes the heart of steel.
Changes portend that mountain dwellers dread.
Clouds, dense and lowering, throng the western sky;
A pause proclaims aerial conflicts nigh,
Save when, (the equal prelude that dismays)
On summits bleak, the winds their voices raise,
Heard in the stillness, like the sullen roar
From Ocean's distant wave-assaulted shore.
Now storms conflicting burst upon the ear;
The wild-goat hurries to his covert near—
Whilst quivering flags before the tempest bend,
Rains, with brief warning, torrent-like descend;
And the loud gust, ascending peal on peal,
Comes with a might that probes the heart of steel.
Where are the silver rills that wound their way
Through tufted reeds, or spiring rushes gay;
Too small to shadow, in their face below,
The peaceful flowers that on their margin blow?
Or where the streams, reflecting Heaven's clear dyes,
That roll'd o'er cress which vainly strove to rise,
Soothing the sense with their melodious song,
As to the vale they sparkling danced along;—
Haply to turn some clattering mill beside,
Or bear to sister towns their crystal tide?
Fled! like the savage, savage to engage,
At every blast convulsed with deeper rage!
See! in long lines of terrible array,
Th'impetuous waters foaming force their way.
If wrathful thus the mountain rills appear,
What forms must Dartmoor's headstrong rivers bear?
Taw, Yealme, and Stour, by countless streamlets fed,
Plunging infuriate down their rocky bed;—
Teign, in whose breast eternal discord reigns,
Or thou, fierce Dart! indignant at thy chains?
So late who spedst, dispensing murmurs faint,
Tho' arm'd with power, yet yielding to constraint;
Whose earnest flow th'obstructing stone divides,
Stain'd with the weeds that clothe its jagged sides;
Stretch'd out amid the current deep and strong,
And waving as it, lucid, pours along:
Now swoln by sudden storm, with furious force,
Onward thou bear'st whate'er would stem thy course;
Vex'd, madden'd, sending forth the fearful roar,
Then, winding round yon Point, art seen no more!
Semblance of man, disquieted in vain,
Treading ambition's path, intent on gain;
Flush'd now with honours; panting for renown;
Scorning all toils to grasp the laurel-crown;
Loud, eager, ardent, hurrying on his way,
Disturb'd, or torn, by jarring passion's sway,
Scheme and device exuberant in his soul,
Till Death, that hill abrupt! conceals the whole!
Through tufted reeds, or spiring rushes gay;
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The peaceful flowers that on their margin blow?
Or where the streams, reflecting Heaven's clear dyes,
That roll'd o'er cress which vainly strove to rise,
Soothing the sense with their melodious song,
As to the vale they sparkling danced along;—
Haply to turn some clattering mill beside,
Or bear to sister towns their crystal tide?
Fled! like the savage, savage to engage,
At every blast convulsed with deeper rage!
See! in long lines of terrible array,
Th'impetuous waters foaming force their way.
If wrathful thus the mountain rills appear,
What forms must Dartmoor's headstrong rivers bear?
Taw, Yealme, and Stour, by countless streamlets fed,
Plunging infuriate down their rocky bed;—
Teign, in whose breast eternal discord reigns,
Or thou, fierce Dart! indignant at thy chains?
So late who spedst, dispensing murmurs faint,
Tho' arm'd with power, yet yielding to constraint;
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Stain'd with the weeds that clothe its jagged sides;
Stretch'd out amid the current deep and strong,
And waving as it, lucid, pours along:
Now swoln by sudden storm, with furious force,
Onward thou bear'st whate'er would stem thy course;
Vex'd, madden'd, sending forth the fearful roar,
Then, winding round yon Point, art seen no more!
Semblance of man, disquieted in vain,
Treading ambition's path, intent on gain;
Flush'd now with honours; panting for renown;
Scorning all toils to grasp the laurel-crown;
Loud, eager, ardent, hurrying on his way,
Disturb'd, or torn, by jarring passion's sway,
Scheme and device exuberant in his soul,
Till Death, that hill abrupt! conceals the whole!
Is it some vagrant phantasy? the change,
Seems mightier than the last, so new! so strange!
The clouds discharged, from their unknown retreat,
The zephyrs back return on pinion fleet;
And in their comeliest garb (Heaven's azure clear)
Once more these crags and leafless wilds appear.
Seems mightier than the last, so new! so strange!
The clouds discharged, from their unknown retreat,
The zephyrs back return on pinion fleet;
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Once more these crags and leafless wilds appear.
Moss have I seen, where, by the Moon's pale light,
Dryads might trip with Fairies through the night,
(While Philomela gave th'inspiring lay,
The eye prophane of mortal held at bay,)
Spread o'er some wood, or, mantling aged wall,
With the next war of winds ordain'd to fall;
Or crowning hut forlorn, 'neath beechen shade,
Prosperous itself, but all below decay'd,
Yet here the region is of that sweet flower,
Which decks the stones with many an Elfin bower,
Through which the beetle peeps, or wanders o'er
His tiny vestibule, or corridor;
While near him, in the curious coil of grey,
The sly aranea waits her hapless prey.
Dryads might trip with Fairies through the night,
(While Philomela gave th'inspiring lay,
The eye prophane of mortal held at bay,)
Spread o'er some wood, or, mantling aged wall,
With the next war of winds ordain'd to fall;
Or crowning hut forlorn, 'neath beechen shade,
Prosperous itself, but all below decay'd,
Yet here the region is of that sweet flower,
Which decks the stones with many an Elfin bower,
Through which the beetle peeps, or wanders o'er
His tiny vestibule, or corridor;
While near him, in the curious coil of grey,
The sly aranea waits her hapless prey.
Where is the lovelier sight than mountain steep,
When blustering storms, exhausted, sink to sleep;
The Sun aloft in cloudless pomp, serene,
With wild magnificence, the circling scene;
Rocks, hills, and sky in sleep lethean bound,
Nor one discordant voice obtruding round?
Excess of joy that verges fast on pain;
Silence maintains, too undisturb'd her reign:
In this secluded hour, when all is still,
And thoughts fantastic captive lead the will;
The spirit borne on fancy's airy car,
Uncurb'd by reason's cold, but polar star,
Environ'd by the desolate and vast;
It needs full recognition of the past,
To feel afresh th'indissoluble ties
Of Earth, and all her softening charities.
When blustering storms, exhausted, sink to sleep;
The Sun aloft in cloudless pomp, serene,
With wild magnificence, the circling scene;
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Nor one discordant voice obtruding round?
Excess of joy that verges fast on pain;
Silence maintains, too undisturb'd her reign:
In this secluded hour, when all is still,
And thoughts fantastic captive lead the will;
The spirit borne on fancy's airy car,
Uncurb'd by reason's cold, but polar star,
Environ'd by the desolate and vast;
It needs full recognition of the past,
To feel afresh th'indissoluble ties
Of Earth, and all her softening charities.
What prospects in succession, wide as new,
From yon high Peak might break upon my view!
Form'd for dominion, 'tired in royal mien,
On which the rays of evening long are seen,
(Its splendor with beneficence combined,
Warning, 'mid bogs, the flag-collecting hind,)
When night, the soft enticer to repose,
Her sable canopy o'er nature throws.
With labour hard that brow august is gain'd!
Confusion here her rule hath long maintain'd:
Far off, dismantled, stands the stannier stone,
With here and there the tower of age unknown;
Deep ravines, fretted by the wintry flood,
And large, tho' dwarfish still, old Wistman's wood.
Oh, spot! where, far from Earth's cabal and crime,
Man seems a being alien to the clime.
One waste continuous meets the wearied eye,
No motion, but the cloud slow sailing by,
No sound remote, a death-like hush profound,
With hills, the wreck of chaos, scatter'd round!
From yon high Peak might break upon my view!
Form'd for dominion, 'tired in royal mien,
On which the rays of evening long are seen,
(Its splendor with beneficence combined,
Warning, 'mid bogs, the flag-collecting hind,)
When night, the soft enticer to repose,
Her sable canopy o'er nature throws.
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Confusion here her rule hath long maintain'd:
Far off, dismantled, stands the stannier stone,
With here and there the tower of age unknown;
Deep ravines, fretted by the wintry flood,
And large, tho' dwarfish still, old Wistman's wood.
Oh, spot! where, far from Earth's cabal and crime,
Man seems a being alien to the clime.
One waste continuous meets the wearied eye,
No motion, but the cloud slow sailing by,
No sound remote, a death-like hush profound,
With hills, the wreck of chaos, scatter'd round!
Is this the land where all things noble smile?
Can this belong to thee, my native Isle!
O Britain! in pre-eminence of worth,
Who sit'st a Queen o'er all the realms of Earth?
With stately mansion, and meandering stream,
'Mid temples meet for an Elysian dream,
Whose rich campaigns on every side present,
Peace, join'd with health, and labour with content;
Cots, flocks, and herds, which he who sees must love,
With many a spire that points to worlds above?
In all the good, the generous, and refined,
In all that moves the heart, exalts the mind,
Bounding to heights, while others coldly climb;
Thy princely institutions, hoar with time,
Never by man, in happiest age, surpass'd,
(Heaven long protect them from the scathing blast!
Can this be Albion? Views like these pertain
To that sweet clime where beauty holds her reign,
And all the Graces, all the Virtues shine,
Arts, friendship, genius, visitants divine?
The spell is burst! on Albion's ground I stand:
Out, in the distance far, lies Ocean's strand!
There England's Navy in her Hamoaze rides,
With Neptune's self that equal sway divides;
The wooden bulwarks to Britannia dear,
Which the whole world alternate laud and fear.
Can this belong to thee, my native Isle!
O Britain! in pre-eminence of worth,
Who sit'st a Queen o'er all the realms of Earth?
With stately mansion, and meandering stream,
'Mid temples meet for an Elysian dream,
Whose rich campaigns on every side present,
Peace, join'd with health, and labour with content;
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With many a spire that points to worlds above?
In all the good, the generous, and refined,
In all that moves the heart, exalts the mind,
Bounding to heights, while others coldly climb;
Thy princely institutions, hoar with time,
Never by man, in happiest age, surpass'd,
(Heaven long protect them from the scathing blast!
Can this be Albion? Views like these pertain
To that sweet clime where beauty holds her reign,
And all the Graces, all the Virtues shine,
Arts, friendship, genius, visitants divine?
The spell is burst! on Albion's ground I stand:
Out, in the distance far, lies Ocean's strand!
There England's Navy in her Hamoaze rides,
With Neptune's self that equal sway divides;
The wooden bulwarks to Britannia dear,
Which the whole world alternate laud and fear.
Twice have I travers'd Dartmoor's hills and plains,
But still the curse, the barren curse remains;
Spring scarce can thaw the rigours of her sky,
And, without offering, Autumn passes by;
Yet charms there are in shapeless tracks like these,
Distemper'd wilds possess their power to please.
Here, varied as the visions of the night,
Earth's fractured elements my gaze invite;
Views of dark horror, yet, that lustre shed,
And prospects which commingle joy with dread.
But still the curse, the barren curse remains;
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And, without offering, Autumn passes by;
Yet charms there are in shapeless tracks like these,
Distemper'd wilds possess their power to please.
Here, varied as the visions of the night,
Earth's fractured elements my gaze invite;
Views of dark horror, yet, that lustre shed,
And prospects which commingle joy with dread.
Said I, that all was barrenness alone,—
Vales, boundless spread, with summits strew'd with stone?
Prepared no vestige of mankind to see,
No features rose but wide sterility;
Now, through the grander lineaments, my eye
Perceives with wonder kindlier objects nigh.
So, haply, deeds at which our hands we raise,
Survey'd with closer scan might challenge praise;
So oft in foes, beheld through passion blind,
Virtues despair'd of, Charity might find.
Vales, boundless spread, with summits strew'd with stone?
Prepared no vestige of mankind to see,
No features rose but wide sterility;
Now, through the grander lineaments, my eye
Perceives with wonder kindlier objects nigh.
So, haply, deeds at which our hands we raise,
Survey'd with closer scan might challenge praise;
So oft in foes, beheld through passion blind,
Virtues despair'd of, Charity might find.
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Estranged, long time, from every human trace,
At glimpse of man, smiles kindle in my face;
For, 'mid the winding road that lies below,
One traveller journeys on, with footsteps slow,
Oft pausing some disruptured clift to view,
Till home-allurements prompt his pace anew.
Now I behold, upon the subject plain,
The black peat-hillocks, and the pannier-train,
Bearing the winter-store to dwelling green—
In some far dell, by none but hunter seen,
When, bounding on thro' perils manifold,
He tracks his scent, from crag, from hold to hold,
Till sudden check'd; the game and chase have flown;
He stops a hallow'd sympathy to own;
The light blue vapours, from the chimney rude,
(In that wild scene of waste and solitude,)
Rising toward Heaven in many a circle fair,
Speak to his heart, of social life, e'en there.
At glimpse of man, smiles kindle in my face;
For, 'mid the winding road that lies below,
One traveller journeys on, with footsteps slow,
Oft pausing some disruptured clift to view,
Till home-allurements prompt his pace anew.
Now I behold, upon the subject plain,
The black peat-hillocks, and the pannier-train,
Bearing the winter-store to dwelling green—
In some far dell, by none but hunter seen,
When, bounding on thro' perils manifold,
He tracks his scent, from crag, from hold to hold,
Till sudden check'd; the game and chase have flown;
He stops a hallow'd sympathy to own;
The light blue vapours, from the chimney rude,
(In that wild scene of waste and solitude,)
Rising toward Heaven in many a circle fair,
Speak to his heart, of social life, e'en there.
Objects to human notice scarce reveal'd,
In times like these, some hues attractive yield.
Welcome, ye ants! that with the dawn appear,
Welcome, ye filmy insects! sporting near;
(Child's solitary tomb, in this lone place,
Might prove a link to bind me to my race;)
Welcome, ye sheep! far off, that herded lie,
Screen'd by some mouldering bank from sun or fly;
Welcome, ye birds! that there your gambols take,
What shapes are those, that wildering thoughts awake,
Discern'd upon yon prominence of stone,
In hour of sport grotesque by nature thrown?
So sagely grave, the mane half worn away,
Trailing to earth, with coats of iron grey—
Their chests a forest, and their haunches bare,
Their shapeless legs, masses of shaggy hair,
With downcast look, still as the rock beneath?
Colts! Dartmoor Colts! the roughest forms that breathe!
In times like these, some hues attractive yield.
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Welcome, ye filmy insects! sporting near;
(Child's solitary tomb, in this lone place,
Might prove a link to bind me to my race;)
Welcome, ye sheep! far off, that herded lie,
Screen'd by some mouldering bank from sun or fly;
Welcome, ye birds! that there your gambols take,
What shapes are those, that wildering thoughts awake,
Discern'd upon yon prominence of stone,
In hour of sport grotesque by nature thrown?
So sagely grave, the mane half worn away,
Trailing to earth, with coats of iron grey—
Their chests a forest, and their haunches bare,
Their shapeless legs, masses of shaggy hair,
With downcast look, still as the rock beneath?
Colts! Dartmoor Colts! the roughest forms that breathe!
Ah! there, till now unkenn'd, in cheerful white,
A cot, amid the marshes, meets my sight.
O memory! why so treach'rous, once so true;
Sweet recollections crowd upon my view:
The self-same cot, at which, in season past,
I call'd, and, hungry, broke my lengthen'd fast;
Converse indulged, reciprocal and kind,
The “splendid shilling” duly left behind.)
The very Dame who spread her homely fare,
And earnest press'd the stranger, lo! is there:—
For ever busy, though, as sunk the Sun,
Deploring that so much remain'd undone,
Yet who, true wisdom! still could time afford
To read the Bible, ever on her board.
In kersey-coat, by gales uncourteous fann'd,
With neat white bib, and basket in her hand,
I see her on the scatter'd furze present
Her garments to the bleaching firmament.
And there appears the hospitable sire,
Rearing the turf-pile for his Christmas fire,
While rosy children, with their flaxen hair,
Loose to the wind, officious burdens bear:
Bless'd Ignorance! who, as their mountains, free,
Deem the whole world comprized in what they see.
A cot, amid the marshes, meets my sight.
O memory! why so treach'rous, once so true;
Sweet recollections crowd upon my view:
17
I call'd, and, hungry, broke my lengthen'd fast;
Converse indulged, reciprocal and kind,
The “splendid shilling” duly left behind.)
The very Dame who spread her homely fare,
And earnest press'd the stranger, lo! is there:—
For ever busy, though, as sunk the Sun,
Deploring that so much remain'd undone,
Yet who, true wisdom! still could time afford
To read the Bible, ever on her board.
In kersey-coat, by gales uncourteous fann'd,
With neat white bib, and basket in her hand,
I see her on the scatter'd furze present
Her garments to the bleaching firmament.
And there appears the hospitable sire,
Rearing the turf-pile for his Christmas fire,
While rosy children, with their flaxen hair,
Loose to the wind, officious burdens bear:
Bless'd Ignorance! who, as their mountains, free,
Deem the whole world comprized in what they see.
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Some stunted trees before the dwelling grow,
Bent from th'Atlantic blast, their bitterest foe.
A strip of corn, the time-worn stones among,
Waves slowly to the breeze that sweeps along,
While near it, skirting a tumultuous stream,
Herbage, long mown, invites the sun's warm beam;
Nor these alone discreet remembrance show
Of Autumn's wind, and bleak December's snow;
Around the crazy door, which mounds defend,
Potatoes thrive, the poor man's greatest friend.
Though their lean kine, perverse, too far have stray'd,
Or in their garden floods have ravage made;
Though oft they watch the Heavens, and oft retire,
Chill'd still with rains, to stir the ember fire,
Forbear your pity! let the current flow,
Here wasted, in behalf of real woe!
Many, in ermine clad, oppress'd with cares,
Rest not, at night, with hearts so light as theirs.
With them solicitude has slender range,
They know no contrast, and they fear no change;
And though hard fare, their birth-right, they endure,
Pleasures their hearth surround, if humble, pure:
The mountain winds conspire to brace and cheer,
And brute intemperance is a stranger here:
Theirs are the wants which men unpamper'd crave,
And theirs the hopes that stretch beyond the grave!
Bent from th'Atlantic blast, their bitterest foe.
A strip of corn, the time-worn stones among,
Waves slowly to the breeze that sweeps along,
While near it, skirting a tumultuous stream,
Herbage, long mown, invites the sun's warm beam;
Nor these alone discreet remembrance show
Of Autumn's wind, and bleak December's snow;
Around the crazy door, which mounds defend,
Potatoes thrive, the poor man's greatest friend.
Though their lean kine, perverse, too far have stray'd,
Or in their garden floods have ravage made;
Though oft they watch the Heavens, and oft retire,
Chill'd still with rains, to stir the ember fire,
Forbear your pity! let the current flow,
Here wasted, in behalf of real woe!
Many, in ermine clad, oppress'd with cares,
Rest not, at night, with hearts so light as theirs.
With them solicitude has slender range,
They know no contrast, and they fear no change;
19
Pleasures their hearth surround, if humble, pure:
The mountain winds conspire to brace and cheer,
And brute intemperance is a stranger here:
Theirs are the wants which men unpamper'd crave,
And theirs the hopes that stretch beyond the grave!
Beholding hills, upon whose iron breast,
A permanence of being seems imprest;
The same through ages past, and still to be,
The earthly emblem of eternity;
Th'excursive thought (whilst these unmoved remain)
Traces the shifting scenes of mortals vain;
Man's little great concerns, kings' rise and fall,
While Dartmoor downward looks, and scorns it all.
The Spirit, free as is the ambient air,
Throws back her glance upon the times that were;
Dwells on the years, by mental night o'ercast,
When skins preserved our fathers from the blast;
When the barbaric faith of ancient days,
Shone hence with direful and concentred blaze.
What crowds upon the very sward I tread,
Once reverenced idols, bending low the head,
As they survey'd their stone-gods drench'd in gore;
Or heard their voices in the thunder's roar;
Or drown'd with shouts the agonizing cry
From peopled-wickers, kindling wide the sky—
But these deform'd prostrations of the mind
Have to oblivion's gulf been long consign'd;
Or lightly float on memory's tranquil stream,
The shadowy vestige of a morning dream.
A permanence of being seems imprest;
The same through ages past, and still to be,
The earthly emblem of eternity;
Th'excursive thought (whilst these unmoved remain)
Traces the shifting scenes of mortals vain;
Man's little great concerns, kings' rise and fall,
While Dartmoor downward looks, and scorns it all.
The Spirit, free as is the ambient air,
Throws back her glance upon the times that were;
Dwells on the years, by mental night o'ercast,
When skins preserved our fathers from the blast;
When the barbaric faith of ancient days,
Shone hence with direful and concentred blaze.
20
Once reverenced idols, bending low the head,
As they survey'd their stone-gods drench'd in gore;
Or heard their voices in the thunder's roar;
Or drown'd with shouts the agonizing cry
From peopled-wickers, kindling wide the sky—
But these deform'd prostrations of the mind
Have to oblivion's gulf been long consign'd;
Or lightly float on memory's tranquil stream,
The shadowy vestige of a morning dream.
Disastrous hour, when Hell, our race to cheat,
First sanctified the forest's dark retreat;
That once, as Heaven's vicegerents, Druids led
To seek these wilds, with tangling trees o'erspread;
To brave the mountain-torrent, foaming by,
And here prefer their curst idolatry!
On yonder beacon of dismantled stone,
To raise the altar, hear their victims groan;
Their “hearts-blood” shed, and hope, by deeds like these,
Avenging Heaven to deprecate or please.
Up yon tall crags e'en now the sign appears,
Steps coarsely wrought, the work of unknown years,
By which the priests ascended, hosts in sight,
To the rock-basin, on the loftiest height,
And there perform'd, while Pity's eyes o'erflow,
Rites! Moloch rites! o'er which the veil we throw.
First sanctified the forest's dark retreat;
That once, as Heaven's vicegerents, Druids led
To seek these wilds, with tangling trees o'erspread;
To brave the mountain-torrent, foaming by,
And here prefer their curst idolatry!
On yonder beacon of dismantled stone,
To raise the altar, hear their victims groan;
Their “hearts-blood” shed, and hope, by deeds like these,
Avenging Heaven to deprecate or please.
21
Steps coarsely wrought, the work of unknown years,
By which the priests ascended, hosts in sight,
To the rock-basin, on the loftiest height,
And there perform'd, while Pity's eyes o'erflow,
Rites! Moloch rites! o'er which the veil we throw.
Did ever Science, on her blazon'd throne,
(Worshipp'd by some who worship her alone!)
Did ever Learning, to the stars allied,
Glory of man, by none but fools decried;—
Did ever Nature, whose ecstatic praise,
Crowds echo, who no higher thought can raise,
Nor trace, by adoration's lambent flame,
The Hand that moulded this stupendous frame:
Did ever Genius, in her flights sublime,
Spurning the narrow bounds of space and time;
Did ever these, with being's endless form,
Summer's mild breeze, or Winter's driving storm,
Revolving seasons, e'en the midnight sky,
Proclaiming, “thunder-tongued,” a deity!
Subdue the harden'd, cruelty restrain,
Or turn the wandering heart from idols vain?
See Druids in their reeking vestments bound,
While cliffs and rills, and sylvan scenes surround!
View Brahma's swarthy sons, 'mong genial skies,
Offering to demons, nightly sacrifice!
See Vishnoo, Boodh, and Moslem devotees,
Framing their sensual Heavens, 'mid rocks and trees!
Witness the sages, boasts of elder time,
Who dared, save one, all hills of knowledge climb,
And, failing there, the record left behind,
That none, “by wisdom,” God, might seek and find.
(Worshipp'd by some who worship her alone!)
Did ever Learning, to the stars allied,
Glory of man, by none but fools decried;—
Did ever Nature, whose ecstatic praise,
Crowds echo, who no higher thought can raise,
Nor trace, by adoration's lambent flame,
The Hand that moulded this stupendous frame:
Did ever Genius, in her flights sublime,
Spurning the narrow bounds of space and time;
Did ever these, with being's endless form,
Summer's mild breeze, or Winter's driving storm,
Revolving seasons, e'en the midnight sky,
Proclaiming, “thunder-tongued,” a deity!
22
Or turn the wandering heart from idols vain?
See Druids in their reeking vestments bound,
While cliffs and rills, and sylvan scenes surround!
View Brahma's swarthy sons, 'mong genial skies,
Offering to demons, nightly sacrifice!
See Vishnoo, Boodh, and Moslem devotees,
Framing their sensual Heavens, 'mid rocks and trees!
Witness the sages, boasts of elder time,
Who dared, save one, all hills of knowledge climb,
And, failing there, the record left behind,
That none, “by wisdom,” God, might seek and find.
What hallow'd Being here directs her flight?
Her flowing robe of pure and pearly white;
With radiant chaplets, borrow'd from the Sun,
Bearing the olive wreath, on Calvary won?
Her brow benignant, meek her look divine,
As Love, when pleading at Devotion's shrine?
Where'er the form angelic wings her way,
Harpies, which feed on man, resign their prey!
All deeds of darkness vanish, that consume,
Life, just expanding, hurried to the tomb!
Or Juggernaut, or Shivu's orgies vile!
Infanticide, the widow's blazing pile,
Remorseless, “red-eyed” superstition wild,
Feasting the famish'd tigress with his child!
Or bearing onward (still the passion, blood!)
His sire, to gorge the shark in Ganges' flood!
These all, the brood of Erebus, retire
At her approach, abash'd, to dens of fire!
Celestial Visitant! o'er this dark earth,
Enlarge thy triumphs! give that kingdom birth,
Which only can the powers of Hell restrain,
And consummate, O Peace! thy righteous reign!
Her flowing robe of pure and pearly white;
With radiant chaplets, borrow'd from the Sun,
Bearing the olive wreath, on Calvary won?
Her brow benignant, meek her look divine,
As Love, when pleading at Devotion's shrine?
Where'er the form angelic wings her way,
Harpies, which feed on man, resign their prey!
23
Life, just expanding, hurried to the tomb!
Or Juggernaut, or Shivu's orgies vile!
Infanticide, the widow's blazing pile,
Remorseless, “red-eyed” superstition wild,
Feasting the famish'd tigress with his child!
Or bearing onward (still the passion, blood!)
His sire, to gorge the shark in Ganges' flood!
These all, the brood of Erebus, retire
At her approach, abash'd, to dens of fire!
Celestial Visitant! o'er this dark earth,
Enlarge thy triumphs! give that kingdom birth,
Which only can the powers of Hell restrain,
And consummate, O Peace! thy righteous reign!
In days, less rude, when War his banners rear'd,
How may these wilds, by turns have awed and cheer'd.
Perchance, in all their martial pomp array'd,
Some chieftains, high in fame, might here have stray'd;
Bold to explore, the prelude to possess,
Who fear'd, at this sepulchral wilderness!
Not so the Britons! Vanquish'd by the foe,
These heights they reach, whose windings well they know,
Nor pausing to survey the trackless waste,
Up, earnest up, the “steep rough” sides they haste,
Braving the lone recesses of the Moor,
Behind them Death, but Liberty before!
At length escaped beyond this belt of stone,
Round them they gaze, and call one spot their own,
Joy in their breasts, and transport in their eyes,
Save when, with scorpion sting, the thoughts arise,
Of wrongs, oppressions, ever fresh, though past,
Chiefly, when Britain's mothers shriek'd aghast;
Beholding, dread precursors of despair!
Assassins' daggers gleaming in the air!
Sons, brothers, husbands, as with wounds they reel,
Imploring mercy from the hearts of steel!
The purple tide, there from the banquet ran,
Wide-spreading, stain indelible on man!
As slaughter closed, what perfidy began!
How may these wilds, by turns have awed and cheer'd.
Perchance, in all their martial pomp array'd,
Some chieftains, high in fame, might here have stray'd;
Bold to explore, the prelude to possess,
Who fear'd, at this sepulchral wilderness!
24
These heights they reach, whose windings well they know,
Nor pausing to survey the trackless waste,
Up, earnest up, the “steep rough” sides they haste,
Braving the lone recesses of the Moor,
Behind them Death, but Liberty before!
At length escaped beyond this belt of stone,
Round them they gaze, and call one spot their own,
Joy in their breasts, and transport in their eyes,
Save when, with scorpion sting, the thoughts arise,
Of wrongs, oppressions, ever fresh, though past,
Chiefly, when Britain's mothers shriek'd aghast;
Beholding, dread precursors of despair!
Assassins' daggers gleaming in the air!
Sons, brothers, husbands, as with wounds they reel,
Imploring mercy from the hearts of steel!
The purple tide, there from the banquet ran,
Wide-spreading, stain indelible on man!
As slaughter closed, what perfidy began!
25
Whence yonder glittering rays, far off, that beam,
Like noon-tide lustre on some restless stream?
Faint sounds are heard! a motion slow is there!
A shout imperfect vibrates in the air!
The Saxons haste! List to their sturdy tread!
The shining helms flash terrors form their head!
Buckler and sword intenser glare display,
While ravenous Death, impatient, waits his prey.
Check'd, not dismay'd, at Dartmoor's base they stand;
Silent they mark the view on every hand;
Parch'd herbage, hill-tops in their dreariest form,
With vales, perpetual haunt of wind and storm.
Yet not to nature they their homage pay;
Far other aims their hearts obdurate sway:
Theirs is one thought, the same straight road to tread,
By which, so late, the routed Britons fled.
They see the path, clear in the broken ground,
And, like the roebuck, up the mountain bound.
Hour after hour, the foe his toil sustains,
Till Eve's last streak retires, and midnight reigns.
Like noon-tide lustre on some restless stream?
Faint sounds are heard! a motion slow is there!
A shout imperfect vibrates in the air!
The Saxons haste! List to their sturdy tread!
The shining helms flash terrors form their head!
Buckler and sword intenser glare display,
While ravenous Death, impatient, waits his prey.
Check'd, not dismay'd, at Dartmoor's base they stand;
Silent they mark the view on every hand;
Parch'd herbage, hill-tops in their dreariest form,
With vales, perpetual haunt of wind and storm.
Yet not to nature they their homage pay;
Far other aims their hearts obdurate sway:
Theirs is one thought, the same straight road to tread,
By which, so late, the routed Britons fled.
They see the path, clear in the broken ground,
And, like the roebuck, up the mountain bound.
Hour after hour, the foe his toil sustains,
Till Eve's last streak retires, and midnight reigns.
26
Heaven always just, though in his own wise way,
Sometimes o'erwhelms th'oppressor with dismay:
A season this might lion-hearts confound,
Such soul-distracting tempests rave around:
The drenching rain beats through the hour of sleep,
Whilst o'er the Saxons winds unpitying sweep.
The burst of elemental sounds austere,
Prolong'd by darkness, deafening strikes the ear.
Fresh foes augment the horrors of the night!
Flashes the Peaks invest with forked light,
And such portentous peals prevail on high,
Each fears the “final doom” is drawing nigh.
Sometimes o'erwhelms th'oppressor with dismay:
A season this might lion-hearts confound,
Such soul-distracting tempests rave around:
The drenching rain beats through the hour of sleep,
Whilst o'er the Saxons winds unpitying sweep.
The burst of elemental sounds austere,
Prolong'd by darkness, deafening strikes the ear.
Fresh foes augment the horrors of the night!
Flashes the Peaks invest with forked light,
And such portentous peals prevail on high,
Each fears the “final doom” is drawing nigh.
Morn dimly breaks, at length the twilight grey,
Reluctant long, her empire yields to day.
The warrior chief, projecting conquests wide,
Upbraids the tardy moments as they glide.
A rugged point before him towers serene,
Thither he speeds to trace the circling scene.
What sudden palsy on his sinew preys,
As slowly he the neighbouring realm surveys!
No human dwelling! Wastes, or crags uppiled,
And all beyond, more desolate, more wild!
“Back, back!” he shouts, rage beaming from his eye,
“Here storms may thrive, but living things must die!”
Reluctant long, her empire yields to day.
The warrior chief, projecting conquests wide,
Upbraids the tardy moments as they glide.
A rugged point before him towers serene,
Thither he speeds to trace the circling scene.
What sudden palsy on his sinew preys,
As slowly he the neighbouring realm surveys!
27
And all beyond, more desolate, more wild!
“Back, back!” he shouts, rage beaming from his eye,
“Here storms may thrive, but living things must die!”
O Earth! what changes on thy face appear,
Through man, the Lord of this sublunar sphere!
There, land he tills where once the waters roll'd,
Here guides new rivers, there arrests the old;
Ranges o'er Alpine rocks, on courser fleet,
Prostrates Hercynian forests at his feet;
Joins sea with distaut sea, in confluence wide,
Or barrier rears to ocean's raging tide!
These very mounts, that cheerless thus expand,
To man have bow'd, or Time's transforming hand,
For here, of old, oaks, sweeping tempests braved
The deep gloom hung, the wood impervious waved;
And, soon, their ancient glory to restore,
Mildew and death may triumph here no more?
Through man, the Lord of this sublunar sphere!
There, land he tills where once the waters roll'd,
Here guides new rivers, there arrests the old;
Ranges o'er Alpine rocks, on courser fleet,
Prostrates Hercynian forests at his feet;
Joins sea with distaut sea, in confluence wide,
Or barrier rears to ocean's raging tide!
These very mounts, that cheerless thus expand,
To man have bow'd, or Time's transforming hand,
For here, of old, oaks, sweeping tempests braved
The deep gloom hung, the wood impervious waved;
And, soon, their ancient glory to restore,
Mildew and death may triumph here no more?
28
Must fancy still, with ever-varying dye,
Obtrude her airy shadows, flitting by?
Can Dartmoor breathe a spirit not her own,
Where tyrant Desolation broods alone?
Can scenes like these, to penury resign'd,
Bursting the sleep of ages, teem with mind?
These arid wastes submit to Ceres' reign,
Hills wave with corn, and flocks adorn the plain?
No idle vision, changing with the sun,
Behold the work, with blessings fraught, begun!
View the first vict'ry fair of human toil!
See the young team invade the virgin soil!
There houses long and large, unseen till now,
Smile like the firs, on some Norwegian brow,
Th'inspiring pledge of that auspicious day,
When Dartmoor's reeds and fens shall pass away;
Summer's deep-foliage clothe her mountains bare,
And harvest-home reward the reaper's care.
Obtrude her airy shadows, flitting by?
Can Dartmoor breathe a spirit not her own,
Where tyrant Desolation broods alone?
Can scenes like these, to penury resign'd,
Bursting the sleep of ages, teem with mind?
These arid wastes submit to Ceres' reign,
Hills wave with corn, and flocks adorn the plain?
No idle vision, changing with the sun,
Behold the work, with blessings fraught, begun!
View the first vict'ry fair of human toil!
See the young team invade the virgin soil!
There houses long and large, unseen till now,
Smile like the firs, on some Norwegian brow,
Th'inspiring pledge of that auspicious day,
When Dartmoor's reeds and fens shall pass away;
Summer's deep-foliage clothe her mountains bare,
And harvest-home reward the reaper's care.
Are there some men, amid a world so vile,
Upon whose paths admiring angels smile?
Some spirits who to earth have found their way,
Some souls ethereal, form'd of purer clay,
Who love to break the child of sorrow's chain,
To whom the orphan never pleads in vain?—
The stay of lonely widowhood opprest,
On whom ten thousand beams of blessing rest?—
Whose “light” diffuses round a “ray serene,”
Yet whose best deeds by Heaven alone are seen?
My Country! many such in thee are found,
Whose unbought praise both hemispheres resound;
Who prove for Britain (not to sight reveal'd!)
Her strongest bulwark, and her firmest shield!
And who, at length, at the last trumpet's call,
Will hear “Well done!” from God, the Judge of all.
These, pondering with divine benignity
On lisping outcasts, London! own'd by thee,
Deserted, naked, destitute, forlorn,
No hand to guide, no Mentor to forewarn,
Projected plans of mercy, when the place
Where lonely captives pined, or brave, or base,
Expands her hundred doors, and Dartmoor yields
Her blasted heaths to labour, fruits, and fields!
Here is the promise verified, e'en here,
The plough and sickle form'd from sword and spear!
Oh, spot! on which our anxious hopes repose;
Here let the desert “blossom like the rose!”
To age mature, may Heaven's especial care
Watch o'er thy charge! protect from ev'ry snare!
And on their heads, to friendless want the friend
His choicest gifts in copious showers descend.
Upon whose paths admiring angels smile?
29
Some souls ethereal, form'd of purer clay,
Who love to break the child of sorrow's chain,
To whom the orphan never pleads in vain?—
The stay of lonely widowhood opprest,
On whom ten thousand beams of blessing rest?—
Whose “light” diffuses round a “ray serene,”
Yet whose best deeds by Heaven alone are seen?
My Country! many such in thee are found,
Whose unbought praise both hemispheres resound;
Who prove for Britain (not to sight reveal'd!)
Her strongest bulwark, and her firmest shield!
And who, at length, at the last trumpet's call,
Will hear “Well done!” from God, the Judge of all.
These, pondering with divine benignity
On lisping outcasts, London! own'd by thee,
Deserted, naked, destitute, forlorn,
No hand to guide, no Mentor to forewarn,
Projected plans of mercy, when the place
Where lonely captives pined, or brave, or base,
Expands her hundred doors, and Dartmoor yields
Her blasted heaths to labour, fruits, and fields!
30
The plough and sickle form'd from sword and spear!
Oh, spot! on which our anxious hopes repose;
Here let the desert “blossom like the rose!”
To age mature, may Heaven's especial care
Watch o'er thy charge! protect from ev'ry snare!
And on their heads, to friendless want the friend
His choicest gifts in copious showers descend.
Visions before me burst, in long array,
Bright as the winged harbingers of day.
Here, blooming like some palm on Libya's waste.
Among these wilds (half from the earth erased,
So spurn'd of man, scarce seen but by the skies!)
I mark the Infant-Town progressive rise!
Destined, perchance, nor distant far, to throw
Her stately shadow o'er the plain below:—
I view the smiling hamlet lift her head;
Expanded meads, in vest luxuriant, spread;
Trees flourish where so late huge torrs were found,
And many a church casts sanctity around!
Haste on to eminence! like some pure spring,
Small at its source, at length, a lord! a king!
Pouring his mass of waters to the sea,
And gathering, as he flows, fresh royalty!
Bright as the winged harbingers of day.
Here, blooming like some palm on Libya's waste.
Among these wilds (half from the earth erased,
So spurn'd of man, scarce seen but by the skies!)
I mark the Infant-Town progressive rise!
Destined, perchance, nor distant far, to throw
Her stately shadow o'er the plain below:—
I view the smiling hamlet lift her head;
Expanded meads, in vest luxuriant, spread;
Trees flourish where so late huge torrs were found,
And many a church casts sanctity around!
31
Small at its source, at length, a lord! a king!
Pouring his mass of waters to the sea,
And gathering, as he flows, fresh royalty!
While thus, to thee, the passing note I raise,
Oh, Dartmoor! shall thy Parent find no praise?
Devon! whose beauties prove, from flattery free,
The happy theme where wranglers all agree?
When troubles press, or health, that blessing, fails!
What joy to range thy renovating vales;—
“England's Montpelier!” o'er thy downs to stray,
Thy logans, camps, and cromlechs huge survey;
Thy rivers to their mountain source explore,
Or roam refresh'd beside thy craggy shore;
To track thy brooks, that, to the passer by,
Babble their airs of liquid melody,
Winding through glens, where seldom suns have shone,
Like life, through all obstructions, gliding on!
Thy distant offspring with th'enthusiast's zest,
Extol thee still, in charms perennial drest;
Trace, and retrace, each haunt of childhood sweet,
And, “Oh, my country!” in their dreams repeat.
And, if at length, when years are on their wane,
Surmounting bars, and bursting every chain,
To their “dear Devon!” they return once more,
What pleasure to renew the joys of yore!
(Now mellow'd down, by time, to calm delight,
Like eve's broad orb, retiring from the sight;)
To mount thy wood-crown'd hills, and there to stand;
Creation blooming round! a Tempe land!
Shrubs, rocks, and flowers, voluptuous in attire,
Whatever eye can charm, or heart desire,
And in the distance, through some opening seen,
Old ocean, in his vast expanse of green.
Oh, Dartmoor! shall thy Parent find no praise?
Devon! whose beauties prove, from flattery free,
The happy theme where wranglers all agree?
When troubles press, or health, that blessing, fails!
What joy to range thy renovating vales;—
“England's Montpelier!” o'er thy downs to stray,
Thy logans, camps, and cromlechs huge survey;
Thy rivers to their mountain source explore,
Or roam refresh'd beside thy craggy shore;
To track thy brooks, that, to the passer by,
Babble their airs of liquid melody,
Winding through glens, where seldom suns have shone,
Like life, through all obstructions, gliding on!
Thy distant offspring with th'enthusiast's zest,
Extol thee still, in charms perennial drest;
32
And, “Oh, my country!” in their dreams repeat.
And, if at length, when years are on their wane,
Surmounting bars, and bursting every chain,
To their “dear Devon!” they return once more,
What pleasure to renew the joys of yore!
(Now mellow'd down, by time, to calm delight,
Like eve's broad orb, retiring from the sight;)
To mount thy wood-crown'd hills, and there to stand;
Creation blooming round! a Tempe land!
Shrubs, rocks, and flowers, voluptuous in attire,
Whatever eye can charm, or heart desire,
And in the distance, through some opening seen,
Old ocean, in his vast expanse of green.
Nor Devon! must thy honours linger here;
Though thou wast made to wake the rapturous tear,
And grant thy children, down to life's last close,
Forms fair, on which their spirits might repose,
Yet higher claims are thine, in which the heart,
The germ eternal, bears conspicuous part;
Thine is the region large, the pale renown'd,
Where “Worthies” dwelt of old, and still abound;
In thee, congenial element, we find
The great! the liberal! the ennobling mind!
Virtues retired, that shrink from public gaze,
And genius, which demands a nation's praise.
Though thou wast made to wake the rapturous tear,
And grant thy children, down to life's last close,
Forms fair, on which their spirits might repose,
Yet higher claims are thine, in which the heart,
The germ eternal, bears conspicuous part;
33
Where “Worthies” dwelt of old, and still abound;
In thee, congenial element, we find
The great! the liberal! the ennobling mind!
Virtues retired, that shrink from public gaze,
And genius, which demands a nation's praise.
Dartmoor! at length, the parting word to thee!
I leave thy borders, not from sorrow free;
But all things here, successive, pass away
In storm, or sun-shine, like an April day:
Heaven's gorgeous clouds the night advancing tell,
“Mother of many rivers!” now farewell!
I leave thy borders, not from sorrow free;
But all things here, successive, pass away
In storm, or sun-shine, like an April day:
Heaven's gorgeous clouds the night advancing tell,
“Mother of many rivers!” now farewell!
A. B.
35
HYMN TO THE SUPREME BEING.
36
ARGUMENT.
1. Manifestations of Deity from Terrestial Objects. 2. From the Heavens.—3. Moral Reflections.
37
O Lord! the refuge thou hast been
Of all who ever fear'd thy name;
Man changes with the changing scene,
But thou art evermore the same.
Of all who ever fear'd thy name;
Man changes with the changing scene,
But thou art evermore the same.
Sceptres and thrones, the blaze of power,
Yea, all that charms the heart and eye,
Will plaudits raise their little hour,
And like a scroll be passed by.
Yea, all that charms the heart and eye,
Will plaudits raise their little hour,
And like a scroll be passed by.
But thou, unmoved, shalt still remain,
Encircled by thy robe of light;
Thou, thro' perpetual years, shalt reign,
When sun and stars are quench'd in night.
Encircled by thy robe of light;
Thou, thro' perpetual years, shalt reign,
When sun and stars are quench'd in night.
38
Whirlwind and blast thy will perform,
Lightnings subserve thy high decree;
Thou rid'st upon the winged storm,
And thou dost calm the raging sea.
Lightnings subserve thy high decree;
Thou rid'st upon the winged storm,
And thou dost calm the raging sea.
Thou, unconfined by space or time,
Display'st thy power thro' endless years;
In every age, in every clime,
The Majesty of God appears.
Display'st thy power thro' endless years;
In every age, in every clime,
The Majesty of God appears.
Thy mandate gave all creatures birth,
From chaos, nature rose divine;
The deep foundations of the earth,
The everlasting hills are thine.
From chaos, nature rose divine;
The deep foundations of the earth,
The everlasting hills are thine.
Perfection marks thy works around,
The great, the small, are one to thee;
The element where thou art found,
Is all alike—Infinity!
The great, the small, are one to thee;
The element where thou art found,
Is all alike—Infinity!
The marv'lous skill on man bestow'd,
Profuse of order, wisdom, power;
Is in the meanest reptiles show'd,—
That charm and perish in an hour.
Profuse of order, wisdom, power;
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That charm and perish in an hour.
Thy dwelling, deep pavilions hide,
Mists bar access, dark waters frown;
Yet, here and there, the clouds divide,
And bring celestial visions down.
Mists bar access, dark waters frown;
Yet, here and there, the clouds divide,
And bring celestial visions down.
The birds that joyous stretch their wing,
And wanton in the summer air;
The insect, and the creeping-thing,
Reveal the tokens of thy care.
And wanton in the summer air;
The insect, and the creeping-thing,
Reveal the tokens of thy care.
These cannot grateful anthems raise,
Nor count thy favours o'er and o'er;
But we, with higher calls for praise,
Will love thee, serve thee, and adore.
Nor count thy favours o'er and o'er;
But we, with higher calls for praise,
Will love thee, serve thee, and adore.
Leviathan, with all his train,
Thro' ocean, in their myriads, spread;
The beasts that range the wood or plain,
All by thy bounteous hand are fed!
Thro' ocean, in their myriads, spread;
The beasts that range the wood or plain,
All by thy bounteous hand are fed!
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The shrubs and flowers, in fair array,
The golden corn, the lofty tree;
The fruits that bend the beauteous spray,
Still claim our thanks and point to thee.
The golden corn, the lofty tree;
The fruits that bend the beauteous spray,
Still claim our thanks and point to thee.
Thine is the summer's ample store,
Thee, teeming autumn owns her King;
Thou shin'st in winter's mantle hoar,
And thou renew'st the face of spring.
Thee, teeming autumn owns her King;
Thou shin'st in winter's mantle hoar,
And thou renew'st the face of spring.
On all that is, the Great First Cause
Stamps his imperishable lines;
Resistless power the Spirit awes,
Till thro' the awful mercy shines.
Stamps his imperishable lines;
Resistless power the Spirit awes,
Till thro' the awful mercy shines.
Thou, who, above all thought, art high,
The plastic source, the final end,
Dost hear the ravens when they cry,
And “goodness” to the worm extend.
The plastic source, the final end,
Dost hear the ravens when they cry,
And “goodness” to the worm extend.
Creation, to her utmost bound,
Regales the ear, and charms the sight;
Beneficence, the earth around,
Moves onward in her track of light.
Regales the ear, and charms the sight;
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Moves onward in her track of light.
We mark thee in the opening morn,
We view thee in the clouds of eve;
And generations, yet unborn,
Shall drink the transport we receive.
We view thee in the clouds of eve;
And generations, yet unborn,
Shall drink the transport we receive.
When to the Heavens we raise our eye,
Surpassing wonders there we see;
We trace, thro' all the spangled sky,
The finger plain of Deity!
Surpassing wonders there we see;
We trace, thro' all the spangled sky,
The finger plain of Deity!
Let the whole world, in chorus wide,
Laud thee, till faith expires in sight;
That thou didst cast the veil aside,
And give to man the starry night!
Laud thee, till faith expires in sight;
That thou didst cast the veil aside,
And give to man the starry night!
That tablet clear, that lucid page,
Whereon is read Jehovah's sway;
And which the Atheist, in his rage,
To blackest shades would tear away!
Whereon is read Jehovah's sway;
And which the Atheist, in his rage,
To blackest shades would tear away!
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There, sphere on sphere, with dance and song,
Direct to thee their airy lyre;
The daring vision toils along
Thro' regions, kindling still with fire.
Direct to thee their airy lyre;
The daring vision toils along
Thro' regions, kindling still with fire.
The moon august, Thou badest shine,
While, calm as thought, the concave glows,
Thou spak'st, and in one vast design,
Ten thousand beaming worlds arose.
While, calm as thought, the concave glows,
Thou spak'st, and in one vast design,
Ten thousand beaming worlds arose.
Amid the confluent flood of light,
Sent from Heaven's unimagined bound;
Suns, traversing, harmonious, bright,
The constellated vault profound;
Sent from Heaven's unimagined bound;
Suns, traversing, harmonious, bright,
The constellated vault profound;
Arcturus, stately, passes on,
Conspicuous thro' his lapse of years,
Orion, with his triple zone,
Alike in radiant pomp appears.
Conspicuous thro' his lapse of years,
Orion, with his triple zone,
Alike in radiant pomp appears.
And there the Pleiades proclaim
“Dominion!” to the Lord on High!
Whilst all the planets sing the same,
In their procession round the sky.
“Dominion!” to the Lord on High!
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In their procession round the sky.
Tho' countless orbs thro' ether roll,
Yet these are atoms, power confined;
Thou didst create the human soul,
Efflux of thine eternal mind!
Yet these are atoms, power confined;
Thou didst create the human soul,
Efflux of thine eternal mind!
Still higher! the angelic choir,
With all the glorious ranks above,
Sprang from thy fiat, Sovereign Sire!
Great source of Being! Fount of Love!
With all the glorious ranks above,
Sprang from thy fiat, Sovereign Sire!
Great source of Being! Fount of Love!
On earth, “Omnipotence!” we hear,
Sent forth from every form and sense;
While Heaven, with accent still more clear,
Again repeats, “Omnipotence!”
Sent forth from every form and sense;
While Heaven, with accent still more clear,
Again repeats, “Omnipotence!”
Sweet symphonies and concords float,
Borne upward from creation wide;
Man's the one discordant note,
Where all is harmony beside.
Borne upward from creation wide;
Man's the one discordant note,
Where all is harmony beside.
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And are there spirits, born to climb,
Who with the clod inglorious lie?
Who spurn the brightest gem of time,
The Hope of Immortality?
Who with the clod inglorious lie?
Who spurn the brightest gem of time,
The Hope of Immortality?
Their aspiration, aim, and end,
Confined to life's contracted stage;
Seeking, than wealth, no better Friend!
Than earth, no nobler heritage!
Confined to life's contracted stage;
Seeking, than wealth, no better Friend!
Than earth, no nobler heritage!
With faculties, acute to learn
Truths endless, curious, or profound,
And who can only, not discern
Thy Hand, emblazon'd all around!
Truths endless, curious, or profound,
And who can only, not discern
Thy Hand, emblazon'd all around!
'Mid arguments like suns array'd,
Which Deity to man recal;
'Mid proofs, ineffably display'd,
Of Him, who framed and governs all;
Which Deity to man recal;
'Mid proofs, ineffably display'd,
Of Him, who framed and governs all;
Who full on nature's lovely face,
With brutish apathy can gaze;
Nor ever to thy “Holy Place,”
The eye of adoration raise!
With brutish apathy can gaze;
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The eye of adoration raise!
The world, tho' vast, in endless round,
Gives the same image to the view;
But evil, by no limit bound,
Hath form and feature ever new.
Gives the same image to the view;
But evil, by no limit bound,
Hath form and feature ever new.
Are there a rude censorious host,
Obtuse, contentious, slaves of sense,
Who, in their chains, of freedom boast,
And with obedience dare dispense!
Obtuse, contentious, slaves of sense,
Who, in their chains, of freedom boast,
And with obedience dare dispense!
Proud, domineering,—left to stray,
Lost in their labyrinth of lies;
Who hold the Word of Life at bay,
And Heaven's Eternal Law despise!
Lost in their labyrinth of lies;
Who hold the Word of Life at bay,
And Heaven's Eternal Law despise!
Talk they of yon celestial land,
Who spurn the good, nor evil fear!—
See, Lucifer his gates expand,
A multitude is drawing near,
Who spurn the good, nor evil fear!—
See, Lucifer his gates expand,
A multitude is drawing near,
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O! are there hearts, in sable drest,
Men, cheer'd not by the blush of morn;
The cold misanthrope in their breast,
With eyes that only look, to scorn?
Men, cheer'd not by the blush of morn;
The cold misanthrope in their breast,
With eyes that only look, to scorn?
Who hates his race, must hateful be,
A Thing of Saturn, wandering here;
This is a world of sympathy;
Back to thine own unsocial sphere!
A Thing of Saturn, wandering here;
This is a world of sympathy;
Back to thine own unsocial sphere!
And must the eye, opprest and sad,
Behold still drearier sights around!—
The harp in cypress wreaths be clad,
And sorrow breathe her deepest sound!
Behold still drearier sights around!—
The harp in cypress wreaths be clad,
And sorrow breathe her deepest sound!
Are there blasphemers, bold to lead
The phalanx, from beneath imbued;
Advancing with gigantic speed
From dark to darker turpitude!
The phalanx, from beneath imbued;
Advancing with gigantic speed
From dark to darker turpitude!
With all the martyr's zeal, who strive
Their impious poisons to dispense;
And hope the venom may survive,
When they, “like chaff,” are hurried hence!
Their impious poisons to dispense;
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When they, “like chaff,” are hurried hence!
What bleeding heart, or streaming eye,
Shall grave their monumental stone;
Or, o'er their turf-grave, bending, cry,
My guide, my brother, thou art gone!
Shall grave their monumental stone;
Or, o'er their turf-grave, bending, cry,
My guide, my brother, thou art gone!
Crowds rather shall exclaim, while rise
Curses, uncurb'd, that must be given;—
You robb'd us of our richest prize,—
Our trust in Goodness, God, and Heaven!
Curses, uncurb'd, that must be given;—
You robb'd us of our richest prize,—
Our trust in Goodness, God, and Heaven!
There are distemper'd scoffers vile,
Who, with the Highest! war proclaim;
Who at the brooding storm can smile,
And dare thy thunders, law, and name!
Who, with the Highest! war proclaim;
Who at the brooding storm can smile,
And dare thy thunders, law, and name!
The creatures of an hour, beguiled
Against Heaven's Monarch to rebel!
Unutterable folly wild,
As when apostate angels fell!
Against Heaven's Monarch to rebel!
Unutterable folly wild,
As when apostate angels fell!
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Should men, upheld by Devils' aid,
To shake thine empire, schemes design;
Should all the beings thou hast made,
In impotent revolt combine:
To shake thine empire, schemes design;
Should all the beings thou hast made,
In impotent revolt combine:
Thy Word, which did at first create,
In prodigal profusion fair,
Might hurl them to their pristine state,
And new and better worlds prepare.
In prodigal profusion fair,
Might hurl them to their pristine state,
And new and better worlds prepare.
The rebel hosts may still increase,
Till they thy sweeping judgments see;
But never shall the faithful cease
To magnify and honour thee.
Till they thy sweeping judgments see;
But never shall the faithful cease
To magnify and honour thee.
The first! (o'erwhelming thought!) the last!
Who in Eternity dost dwell!
The self-existent Presence vast,
Pervading heaven, and earth, and hell!
Who in Eternity dost dwell!
The self-existent Presence vast,
Pervading heaven, and earth, and hell!
The Friend! our faintest sigh, who hears!
With whom our soul communion holds!
Our hope, thro' Christ! when Death appears,
And Heaven her portals wide unfolds!
With whom our soul communion holds!
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And Heaven her portals wide unfolds!
Thy throne, O God! shall firm endure,
And age to age thy praise rehearse;
Thine altar, is the Spirit pure!
Thy Temple, is the Universe!
And age to age thy praise rehearse;
Thine altar, is the Spirit pure!
Thy Temple, is the Universe!
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AN ADDRESS TO THE MISSIONARIES.
Whilst some the song to chiefs and patriots raise,With nobler zeal, I loftier Spirits praise;
Men who to please their Maker and proclaim
To nations sunk in night a Saviour's name,
Have left the land where pleasure sits and smiles,
Joyous have left e'en Britain, Queen of Isles;—
Friends, home, contentment, all that life endears,
Freely renounced for anguish, toil, and tears;
Endured the scorching waste, the raging flood,
While fearless on the Rock of Faith they stood.
Must each be launch'd ere long on death's cold stream,
Each pass away—like a forgotten dream!
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For all the sons of men, an endless state!
Is there an hour, momentous, drawing near,
When their last sentence all who live shall hear;
With joy unspeakable, or pangs untold,
Yield up their stewardship, and their Judge behold!
You have believed, and for the deluge wide,
Prepared your ark that safe the storm shall ride.
You know there is. While others till they die,
Deem all things serious but eternity;
You, better taught, a future empire raise,
And spend for God your few and fleeting days.
Like your great Master you your ease disdain,
And combat with the scoffer, want, and pain;
Instructed in th'inestimable worth
Of that great treasure, Heaven bestow'd on earth;
That precious boon, that Book of Life and Light,
Which sheds refulgence o'er a world of night,
You your “exceeding” joy would not disguise,
And brood with sordid pleasure o'er your prize.
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Conveys a genial influence to the heart;
Its element—is to dispense all good;
It feels for distant nations, brotherhood;
Embraces with one ardent grasp of soul,
Men of all climes from Ganges to the Pole.
Religion, true, with an Ithuriel touch,
May find the miser, but ne'er left him such.
Oh! had the Vision call'd in that deep dream,
Paul eastward to have borne his sacred theme;
With Heaven's rich gifts, to feed the Tartar wild,
And not the Macedonian, Europe's child:
Had no kind Spirit, casting fears behind,
Bless'd with a pulse that beat for all mankind,
(Whose breast the light contain'd) once thoughtful stood,
Framing luxurious schemes for human good;
Beheld where Albion's stately clifts appear'd,
And boldly to the barbarous Briton steer'd;
How had our savage faith its strength maintain'd,
And what e'en here the night that now had reign'd!
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As time roll'd on, have plunged in shades profound!
Whilst lands, to ten-fold darkness long resign'd,
Have burst their bonds, and led the sons of mind,
Haply! Oh, Heaven avert the curse severe!
Again the Pagan rite may triumph here;
And regions, now, where men to idols bend,
The altar reverence and the ark defend!
What might so soon God's sleeping wrath awake,
And o'er our Isle, tempt him his scourge to shake,
His lamp remove, his heritage forsake,
As langour, to extend the Gospel Sound,
The Bread of Life, to starving nations round!—
As that disastrous, graceless spirit chill,
Which scorns to work and frustrates those who will!
Soft as the far-off murmuring of the sea,
Sweet as at morn the bird's clear melody,
(Amid the shout of orgies vile) I hear
The still small voice of penitence and prayer!
Sunk as they were in guilt, abased, depraved,
Ten righteous men had once a people saved,
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Their Maker's Laws disdain, his Threats deride,
England may yet recount her righteous few,
Salt of our land! and not the least in you.
How will the future sons of sires, who now,
In climes remote, to stocks and statues bow—
(Oh, fearful depth of folly and of crime!
Man, even Man! endued with powers sublime,
Disclaims his rank, to basest things that be,
Lifts the adoring eye, and bends the knee!)
How will such, brought to their maturer sense,
Read with delight the Page of Providence!
How will such hail (without one faint alloy,)
Their happier state, then, with seraphic joy,
Gaze backward far upon the men revered
Who first their tribes with songs of Sion cheer'd,
Brought them the truth, the Book of Knowledge spread,
And o'er the future beams effulgent shed!
What gratulations, what transcendent praise
Their hearts to you shall breathe, their voices raise,
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O'er the dark vale, the dreary desert past!
As, on their race of storms, their night of woe,
Safe, from the Mount of God, they look below!
When waning age on age hath roll'd away,
Since you with earth have mix'd your honour'd clay,
While myriads on oblivion's tide are seen,
Borne downward, lost, as tho' they ne'er had been,
Still shall your memories flourish, fresh and green;
Of you, the lisping child shall learn to speak,
As the warm tear steals down the mother's cheek:
Yet nobler thoughts than these your hearts beguile;—
Conscience' sweet voice, and Heaven's approving smile.
Ye Great of Earth, arise!—At once appear
Cæsars and Pompeys, men estranged from fear;
Whose warlike feats the porphyry column bears;
Who view'd the world, and proudly call'd it theirs;
Who lived to tread the steep, to build the name,
Whilst slaughter'd thousands track'd their road to fame.
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Ere call'd for showers of blessings on their head?
Crowds, rather, in their pangs, with death in sight,
Bewail'd the hour that gave them to the light.
These are not Great! Illustrious men and wise!
You are the Great, whose deeds to glory rise!
You distant realms have sought, with untold pains,
Not to explore fresh marts, or count new gains;
Like some dark fiend, with venom in your eye,
To swell the tide of human misery,
But, with benign delight, your joys to share,
To free the captive, smooth the brow of care,
Throw back the veil, the star of Hope display,
And guide benighted souls to endless day.
Such once was Brainerd, whose ambition, high,
Aspired to teach the Indian “how to die.”
Such Schwartz was found, who 'mong the heathen, long
Despairing roam'd, yet lived to hear the song,
From the wide Banian's sylvan altar, own,
In concords loud, Jehovah, Lord alone!
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Who find in Heaven the peace which Earth denied.
And such was Vanderkempt (his ransom paid),
Who now looks down, nor mourns the choice he made.
Tho' these have past triumphant to the skies,
In the same hallow'd cause, new heroes rise.
Fresh spirits march to conquest, all endued
With unction from above, zeal, fortitude.
Before my eyes, suffused by starting tear,
Names pass, embalmed, and sanctified and dear.
Jowett, and Johnson, Holbeck, Richter, Shaw,
Whom love divine to dangerous realms could draw;
Fox, Carver, Ousely, known and praised afar,
With Morrison, so long a radiant star;
While Carey, Marshman, Ward, that veteran train,
Show, in their turn, what victories Faith may gain;
And if remembrance of the host beside
Here find no place, who equal toils divide,
On nobler records such serene rely,
Theirs is the grand memorial in the sky.
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Where no observing eye but God's can see,—
Around steep Caucasus, or on the shore
Of ice-bound Greenland, or bleak Labrador;
Or in Columbian Isles (where men with skins
Black as their master's hearts, less black their sins,
Rejoice, with stripes, and sighs and groans opprest,
To hear from you, of Heaven, that world of rest.)
Or they 'mid southern oceans take their stand,
'Mid Afric's dews of death, and burning sand;
In India, where the car-drawn monster rude
Late saw the self-devoted multitude,
Who now, whilst he deplores his honours gone,
Sinks in the mire, with none to help him on!
And thus shall idols vanish, one by one,
Before the opening dawn, the rising sun.
New scenes, like spring, with flow'ry wreaths advance.
New prospects rise, no cloud to overcast.
Religion, who so long “on tiptoe stood,”
Hath past, indeed, o'er the Atlantic flood:
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Whom fools defame, and then affect to scorn,
With step intrepid send their worthies forth
To cleanse and fructify the moral earth.
(May offspring of one Parent, favour'd, free,
Charm with the sight of “Brethren who agree:”
And hence, one rivalry pervade their breast,—
Who most shall honour God, and serve him best!)
If, sometimes, whilst through distant lands you roam,
You cast a lingering look toward friends and home,
Think oft'ner, on the high, the blissful state,
The palms, the crowns which for the pilgrim wait.
Should pain assault you, still in God believe;
Should sorrow reach, Oh, think for whom you grieve!
Should want, in lonely climes, your steps pursue,
Dwell on his Name who suffer'd more for you.
Guiding the Gospel-plough, gird up your mind!
Heed not the chaff which you have left behind!
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What can your hearts deplore, with God your friend!
You seek not earth's reward, nor man's applause,
You all are champions in your Maker's cause;
And round your arduous path, tho' sad, the while
Crowds of admiring angels watch and smile.
The hour must come, perchance it draweth nigh,
The fast unfolding dawn of prophecy,
When the first-born to Zion shall return,
And look on Him whom they have pierced, and mourn;
When o'er earth's verdant fields, one flock shall stray,
One shepherd lead, and all his voice obey:—
When holiest love shall ev'ry heart inflame,
And every tongue confess Immanuel's name!
Warm'd with such hopes, tho' vain to feeble sense,
Be Heaven's eternal word your confidence;
With zeal, around, your glorious mission spread,
And make your Father's will, your daily bread.
May He, in every hour of need provide,
In sickness cheer you, and thro' dangers guide;
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Whilst you, like Paul, the Gospel-trumpet blow,
Who with a crown in sight, a heaven, a home,
All things could bear, stripes, bonds, and martyrdom.
Not o'er a sea, unruffled, calm, and clear,
Must you your venturous bark expect to steer;
The sun sometimes may sooth, your fears subside,
And soft and sweet the tide of feeling glide;
When, like the alternate changes of the deep,
Tempests and storms, the low'ring skies may sweep;
Expect, nor be deceived. Alike prepare
Hardships or ease to meet, the soldier's fare.
If friends protect, on God the praise bestow;
If foes assail, with meekness bear the blow;
Nor hope to root out errors, save with toil,
Like theirs, who ere they reap must plough the soil.
Hell, roused from slumber, in his dread array,
Erelong, in rage, may rise to meet the fray;
Call up foul spirits, to himself allied,
And yield with mortal throe, his empire wide;
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Will screen you with his own Omnipotence.
Sages! Oh deign, from one, remote, unknown,
To hear advice that springs from love alone.
Be not, at aught, too joyous or too pain'd,
Fear must be check'd and Hope herself restrain'd.
Our sight is but a point, our life—a day!
Grief soon subsides, and pleasures—where are they?
Tho' with our own dear schemes our bosoms swell,
What might be best at last we cannot tell;
The clouds that rise so fair, may waft distress,
The tear, the pang, the cross, be sent to bless.
That Sovereign Power, to whose pervading eye,
All times, the past, the future, naked lie;
Whether he walk conspicuous, clothed in light,
Or round his footsteps cast the robe of night,
Still carries on (though Folly oft repines,)
His wise, but his inscrutable designs.
To hear advice that springs from love alone.
Be not, at aught, too joyous or too pain'd,
Fear must be check'd and Hope herself restrain'd.
Our sight is but a point, our life—a day!
Grief soon subsides, and pleasures—where are they?
Tho' with our own dear schemes our bosoms swell,
What might be best at last we cannot tell;
The clouds that rise so fair, may waft distress,
The tear, the pang, the cross, be sent to bless.
That Sovereign Power, to whose pervading eye,
All times, the past, the future, naked lie;
Whether he walk conspicuous, clothed in light,
Or round his footsteps cast the robe of night,
Still carries on (though Folly oft repines,)
His wise, but his inscrutable designs.
As on you go, declaring as you can
Redemption for the captive sons of man;
Freedom that breaks the fetters of the mind,
Ears to the deaf, and vision to the blind,
Should hosts, with bounding heart, your tidings hail,
Should Satan's kingdom fall, and Truth prevail;
Converts from Heathenish night your footsteps throng,
Acknowledge him to whom all hearts belong;
Yet should but here and there a blade be found,
Whilst weeds, in rank luxuriance, wave around;
Should they be foes to you who were before
Foes to the God, whom you unseen adore,
Let not Egyptian gloom your souls dismay,
Faint is the dawn that ushers in the day;
But should no consecrated fruits ascend,
O'er the wide scenes should nought but tares extend,
Let faith, unshaken, still support your feet,
Heedless, though torrents roar and tempests beat.
What tho' no wreath victorious crown your race,
And few the flowers beside your path you trace,
Seed sown by you, long 'neath the ground may lie,
Water'd of God, unmark'd by human eye,
Ordain'd, in the appointed hour, to rise,
And with majestic verdure fill the skies.
Witness Taheite whose shades have past away,
So long where fiends maintain'd unbridled sway;
Her Idols to the Bats disdainful hurl'd,
The prelude to a renovated world!
Soul reverenced men! Receive th'applauding strain,
Redemption for the captive sons of man;
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Ears to the deaf, and vision to the blind,
Should hosts, with bounding heart, your tidings hail,
Should Satan's kingdom fall, and Truth prevail;
Converts from Heathenish night your footsteps throng,
Acknowledge him to whom all hearts belong;
Yet should but here and there a blade be found,
Whilst weeds, in rank luxuriance, wave around;
Should they be foes to you who were before
Foes to the God, whom you unseen adore,
Let not Egyptian gloom your souls dismay,
Faint is the dawn that ushers in the day;
But should no consecrated fruits ascend,
O'er the wide scenes should nought but tares extend,
Let faith, unshaken, still support your feet,
Heedless, though torrents roar and tempests beat.
What tho' no wreath victorious crown your race,
And few the flowers beside your path you trace,
Seed sown by you, long 'neath the ground may lie,
Water'd of God, unmark'd by human eye,
Ordain'd, in the appointed hour, to rise,
And with majestic verdure fill the skies.
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So long where fiends maintain'd unbridled sway;
Her Idols to the Bats disdainful hurl'd,
The prelude to a renovated world!
Which kings and conquerors might desire in vain.
To you, a distant brother leads the song,
Which thousands join, in chorus loud and long.
'Mid climes that never heard Messiah's praise,
Aspire the Standard of the Cross to raise,
With new delight, proclaim their ransom near,
Go! and a Temple to your Maker rear!
Whilst there are lands, and tribes that countless be,
Who never joy'd to hear our jubilee,
Who never knew the Christian's rich repast,
Pardon and Peace, and hope of Heaven at last,
Strive in the glorious conflict undismay'd,
March boldly, in supernal strength array'd,
Still fearless on the Word of Promise rest,
And trust the more for doubts that haunt your breast.
68
That once in Cranmer glow'd, in Luther shone?
Shall petty sights alone attract our eye,
The rise and fall of mortal majesty—
Kingdoms and men, that in perpetual round
Blaze and expire? Shall these our prospects bound,
And not your cause—the glory of our age,
(Grandest of all which human thoughts engage!)
Awake our brightest interests, hopes and fears,
The heart that vibrates, and the tongue that cheers?
Those who, beyond the present, see combined,
The mighty Future, trampling time behind,
Feel, with still kindling warmth, in every vein,
Ardour to burst the Heathen's mental chain—
To waft to them our pearl of matchless price,
And wider throw the gates of Paradise.
Where is this Spirit? Lo! she lives and reigns!
Now we behold her, not 'mid ravaged plains,
Where Demons scream for blood, but on thy shore,
Oh! Albion, dear! my Country! evermore
Loftiest of nations! With proud garlands crown'd,
Sending the Truth wherever man is found.
69
Check not the Courser with the Goal in sight!
May you who wage the warfare with the foe;
May you who nobly of your wealth bestow;
May you whose hearts implore that Heaven would shield
The tender germ from storms, and increase yield,
Strive in your different ways, more earnest be,
Not fainting, you secure the victory.
Once more, from sickening scenes that strike my view,
Good men, and great, refresh'd, I turn to you.
The Star of Bethlehem, from night profound,
Emerges fair, with sun-like splendors round;
Vision on vision kindling I survey,
'Till with o'erpowering beam it dies away.
And can it be that who the brunt sustain
Should call aloud for aid, yet call in vain?
Bent by the weight, you arduous burdens bear,
The field is vast, but Labourers few are there.
Amazed, the Powers of Darkness stand and feel
Their temples tottering, while their idols reel,
70
Voices from friends far off that feebly cheer?
With such a prize in view, in such a fight,
May kindred souls spontaneous spring to light,
Sent, and endued with graces from above,
Wise as the serpent, harmless as the dove,
Proud to support your hands, and to extend,
O'er boisterous seas, to earth's remotest end,
Salvation, tidings of the Sinners' Friend.
Again, farewell! and, Oh! while thus you preach
Of Faith and Righteousness in every speech,
And your whole walk confirms the truths you teach,
Fearless, the path pursue, tho' men revile,
On which th'Almighty smiles, and still will smile.
Confusion them shall follow, whilst our eyes
Shall see the Tree of God's own planting rise;
Wide shall it spread, and adverse storms disdain,
Fed by heaven's dew, and nourish'd with his rain;
And let all cry—Wherever shines the Sun,
Thy Kingdom come, O Lord! thy will be done!
71
A MIDNIGHT REFLECTION.
A solemn silence fills the skies,
The clouds their deepest shades unfold;
On meditation let me rise,
And with my spirit commune hold.
The clouds their deepest shades unfold;
On meditation let me rise,
And with my spirit commune hold.
Am I a sojourner on earth,
Exposed to many a storm and strait;
Am I a pilgrim from my birth,
Fast passing to an endless state!
Exposed to many a storm and strait;
Am I a pilgrim from my birth,
Fast passing to an endless state!
Is there a God who deigns to dwell
With heirs of frailty here below!
And is there, too, a heaven, a hell,
Eternal worlds of joy or woe!
With heirs of frailty here below!
And is there, too, a heaven, a hell,
Eternal worlds of joy or woe!
Is life a tale, a flower of spring,
That withers, while it charms the sight;
Compared to every fleeting thing,
A cloud, a vision of the night!
That withers, while it charms the sight;
Compared to every fleeting thing,
A cloud, a vision of the night!
72
Do I this moment breathe the air,
And stable feel my house of clay;
Yet know that, from a world of care,
The next I may be call'd away!
And stable feel my house of clay;
Yet know that, from a world of care,
The next I may be call'd away!
Have I, till now, disdain'd the voice
Which mercy sends me from on high?
And made terrestrial things my choice,
That vanish with the evening sky!
Which mercy sends me from on high?
And made terrestrial things my choice,
That vanish with the evening sky!
Almighty Father! grant thine aid,
That I may from these dreams awake;
Till I have Christ my refuge made,
Oh spare me for thy mercy's sake!
That I may from these dreams awake;
Till I have Christ my refuge made,
Oh spare me for thy mercy's sake!
May I, the remnant of my days,
Devote to heaven, devote to Thee!
And join, at length, the song of praise
With thy Redeemed Family!
Devote to heaven, devote to Thee!
And join, at length, the song of praise
With thy Redeemed Family!
73
THE WINTER ROBIN.
Sweet Robin! I hail thy appearance once more,
Come sing in my garden, or peck at my door;
Tho' an ingrate for favours so often conferr'd,
With delight I still welcome my favourite bird.
Come sing in my garden, or peck at my door;
Tho' an ingrate for favours so often conferr'd,
With delight I still welcome my favourite bird.
When the last winter's tempest rush'd down from the sky,
Thou appear'dst at my window with pitiful eye!
The bread from my table unsparing I cast,
And thought that one friend might be faithful at last.
Thou appear'dst at my window with pitiful eye!
The bread from my table unsparing I cast,
And thought that one friend might be faithful at last.
Thy contemplative look, 'twas my joy to behold,
Thy flight oft repress'd, and thy plumage of gold;
And the oftner thou cam'st from thy dwelling unknown,
The more welcome thou wast to the crumbs I had thrown.
Thy flight oft repress'd, and thy plumage of gold;
And the oftner thou cam'st from thy dwelling unknown,
The more welcome thou wast to the crumbs I had thrown.
The mild breath of spring, from their covert profound,
Call'd the leaves into light and bespangled the ground,
Ah! then, 'mid the blaze of prosperity's reign,
I sought for my Robin, but sought him in vain!
Call'd the leaves into light and bespangled the ground,
74
I sought for my Robin, but sought him in vain!
Now that summer is past, and the forest is bare,
At my window thou stand'st, a sad spectacle there;
Cold and shivering my pardon thou seem'st to implore,
And to ask for the hand that once fed thee before.
At my window thou stand'st, a sad spectacle there;
Cold and shivering my pardon thou seem'st to implore,
And to ask for the hand that once fed thee before.
Come, banish thy grief, nor past folly bewail,
My love is a store-house that never shall fail;
At evening, at morning, at noon, and at night,
To feed my sweet bird shall still give me delight.
My love is a store-house that never shall fail;
At evening, at morning, at noon, and at night,
To feed my sweet bird shall still give me delight.
Ah! why should I thus thine inconstancy chide?
Have I no conviction of crimes deeper died?
Tho' of Reason possess'd and Instruction Divine,
My spirit is far more ungrateful than thine.
Have I no conviction of crimes deeper died?
Tho' of Reason possess'd and Instruction Divine,
My spirit is far more ungrateful than thine.
From the moment since first I this vital air drew,
One friend has preserved and supported me too;
Yet how often have I, whilst I sumptuously fared,
Forgotten the Hand that my banquet prepared.
One friend has preserved and supported me too;
Yet how often have I, whilst I sumptuously fared,
Forgotten the Hand that my banquet prepared.
75
SEVERN,
IN A STORM.
Severn! thy billows lash the rocky shore,Heard terrible thro' midnight reining round;
The winds imperious give their loftiest sound,
While thunders, fierce from nature's awful store,
Traverse wide heaven, with loud and lengthen'd roar,
Till crash on crash convulsive shakes the ground.
Voices faint mingle with the troubled sky!
It is the ship-wreck'd crew who aid require!
In pity to the drowning seaman's cry,
Clouds! check your fury! Tempests stay your ire!
That fervid blast of elemental fire!
Ah! there the vessel sinks beneath the eye!
The winds are hush'd, the thunders cease to rave,
And all is still, but the dark-rolling wave!
76
SEVERN,
SUNSET, WRITTEN AT KING'S WESTON POINT, NEAR BRISTOL.
If hour there be when pleasure fills the breast,As Nature, robed in beauty, sleeps profound;
When woods and streams, in fairy vision round,
Reflect the peaceful splendours of the west,
That hour is this;—in pomp austerer drest,
Now Severn kindles thro' his ample bound,
And Cambria's lordly hills in glory lie,
O'er-canopied by clouds of gorgeous dye;
Whilst sea-birds sport amid the sapphire wave,
Rolling the line eternal to the strand;
And many a distant skiff, and vessel brave,
Glides glowing on, by fostering zephyrs fann'd.
Our Empress Isle, profuse of pearl and gem,
Here wears her proud and matchless diadem.
77
TO CHARITY.
Oh, Charity! while fame, with light'ning car,Flashes brief splendour o'er the hero's grave,
Thou sitt'st upon thy rock amid the wave,
Calm as the silver moon, and evening star
(That o'er the billow throw their image far,)
Like them unmoved by storms that round thee rave.
Ah! from thine eye, I mark the tear descend;
Thou thinkest of the woes that man dismay;
Upon the crowd who have no home or friend,
Upon the orphan, worn by want away,
The lonely widow, lingering out her day;
And tho' too poor to succour, thou dost send
The look benign that oft hath care beguiled,
Soothing, in silence, sorrow's drooping child.
78
EMMA
(JUVENILE).
Emma! thou art a peerless maid,
To every virtue plighted;
And in each winning grace array'd
That fancy e'er delighted.
To every virtue plighted;
And in each winning grace array'd
That fancy e'er delighted.
Thou hast a dimple on thy cheek,
Of white and blushing roses;
And in thine eyes, that pleasure speak,
The soul of love reposes.
Of white and blushing roses;
And in thine eyes, that pleasure speak,
The soul of love reposes.
Thou hast a smile, the whole to crown,
Which fills all hearts with gladness;
But, Oh! sometimes thou hast a frown,
Which turns our joy to sadness.
Which fills all hearts with gladness;
But, Oh! sometimes thou hast a frown,
Which turns our joy to sadness.
Dear Maid! one boon I ask of thee,
Whose voice deceived never;—
It is, that thou wilt smile on me,
And banish frowns for ever.
Whose voice deceived never;—
It is, that thou wilt smile on me,
And banish frowns for ever.
79
ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG LADY.
Sweet Maid! who late didst charm our sight
And round thy path a lustre shed;
We see thee still in vision bright,
Till memory whispers, thou art dead!
And round thy path a lustre shed;
We see thee still in vision bright,
Till memory whispers, thou art dead!
Veil'd is the future! dim, and dark!
When in our confidence and pride
We seem about to steer our bark
O'er pleasure's gay and glittering tide:
When in our confidence and pride
We seem about to steer our bark
O'er pleasure's gay and glittering tide:
Death launches from his ebon throne
The shaft, with terrors charged, supreme;
Which hurries us to worlds unknown,
And sends us down oblivion's stream!
The shaft, with terrors charged, supreme;
Which hurries us to worlds unknown,
And sends us down oblivion's stream!
80
But yesterday, and thou didst stand,
(With nought thy ample gaze to bound,)
Foremost in youth and beauty's band,
Admired, beloved, by all around;
(With nought thy ample gaze to bound,)
Foremost in youth and beauty's band,
Admired, beloved, by all around;
Now thou hast past life's rugged road,
The clod sustains thy peaceful head;
With vault and worm is thine abode,
And “clay-cold” is thy lowly bed.
The clod sustains thy peaceful head;
With vault and worm is thine abode,
And “clay-cold” is thy lowly bed.
Ye, who your loveliest friend deplore,
And heave affection's fervent sigh;
Think, ere a fleeting hour be o'er,
That you, like her, in dust may lie.
And heave affection's fervent sigh;
Think, ere a fleeting hour be o'er,
That you, like her, in dust may lie.
Your moments pass like sands away,
Provide for Heaven before too late;
Nor leave to an uncertain day,
The interests of an endless state.
Provide for Heaven before too late;
Nor leave to an uncertain day,
The interests of an endless state.
They who can call their God their friend,
May look toward death without dismay;
And only they can meet their end
Calm as the summer's closing day.
May look toward death without dismay;
81
Calm as the summer's closing day.
Sweet Maid! thy worth shall long remain
The theme of many a friend sincere;
Whilst he who pens the mournful strain,
With their's shall blend the pitying tear.
The theme of many a friend sincere;
Whilst he who pens the mournful strain,
With their's shall blend the pitying tear.
84
LINES ON RE-VISITING THE SAME ARBOUR.
Is this the arbour, this the place,
Which twenty years ago I view'd;
And left upon its walls some trace
Inspired by thoughtful solitude?
Which twenty years ago I view'd;
And left upon its walls some trace
Inspired by thoughtful solitude?
Is this domain the magic region
Which oft in youth I paused to bless;
And deem'd the rose-encircled dwelling,
The home of earthly happiness?
Which oft in youth I paused to bless;
And deem'd the rose-encircled dwelling,
The home of earthly happiness?
The lays which friendship strew'd are vanish'd,
The flowers are dead, the walls decay'd;
And on this spot, most spots excelling,
Her wasting hand hath ruin laid!
The flowers are dead, the walls decay'd;
And on this spot, most spots excelling,
Her wasting hand hath ruin laid!
85
The garden now hath lost its beauty,
The orchard near its dainty store:
The thistle triumphs o'er the lily,
And all that charm'd, now charms no more!
The orchard near its dainty store:
The thistle triumphs o'er the lily,
And all that charm'd, now charms no more!
Shall I again yon mansion enter,
Where smiles so oft the welcome told?
Ah, no! its hospitable owner
These eyes must never more behold!
Where smiles so oft the welcome told?
Ah, no! its hospitable owner
These eyes must never more behold!
The loveliest form of human nature,
There ran her angel-like career;
But she hath pass'd to joys unfading,
And fragrant is her memory here!
There ran her angel-like career;
But she hath pass'd to joys unfading,
And fragrant is her memory here!
My soul! receive the solemn warning!
Gird up thy loins! Prepare to go!
Friend follows friend in quick succession,
For resting-place hath none below!
Gird up thy loins! Prepare to go!
Friend follows friend in quick succession,
For resting-place hath none below!
86
THE AFFECTIONATE HEART.
Let the great man, his treasures possessing,
Pomp and splendour for ever attend;
I prize not the shadowy blessing
I ask—the affectionate friend.
Pomp and splendour for ever attend;
I prize not the shadowy blessing
I ask—the affectionate friend.
Tho' foibles may sometime o'ertake him,
His footstep from wisdom depart;
Yet, my spirit shall never forsake him,
If he own the affectionate heart.
His footstep from wisdom depart;
Yet, my spirit shall never forsake him,
If he own the affectionate heart.
Affection! thou soother of care,
Sweet visitant sent from above;
Thou can'st make e'en the desert look fair,
And thy voice is the voice of the dove.
Sweet visitant sent from above;
Thou can'st make e'en the desert look fair,
And thy voice is the voice of the dove.
'Mid the anguish that preys on the breast,
And the storms of mortality's state;
What shall lull the afflicted to rest,
But the joys that on sympathy wait!
And the storms of mortality's state;
87
But the joys that on sympathy wait!
What is fame, bidding envy defiance,
The idol and bane of mankind;
What is wit, what is learning or science,
To the heart that is stedfast and kind?
The idol and bane of mankind;
What is wit, what is learning or science,
To the heart that is stedfast and kind?
Even genius may weary the sight,
By too fierce and too constant a blaze;
But affection, mild planet of night!
Grows lovelier the longer we gaze.
By too fierce and too constant a blaze;
But affection, mild planet of night!
Grows lovelier the longer we gaze.
It shall thrive when the flattering forms
Which encircle creation decay;
It shall live 'mid the wide-wasting storms,
That bear all undistinguish'd away.
Which encircle creation decay;
It shall live 'mid the wide-wasting storms,
That bear all undistinguish'd away.
When Time, at the end of his race,
Shall expire with expiring mankind;
It shall stand on its permanent base;
It shall last till the wreck of the mind.
Shall expire with expiring mankind;
It shall stand on its permanent base;
It shall last till the wreck of the mind.
88
THE MISER's WILL.
A CONVERSATIONAL POEM, FOUNDED ON FACT.
Old
Scrape-all, who had long been ailing,
Was at a trembling debtor railing,
Threat'ning if he a mite should fail
To whelm him in a neighbouring jail,
When Blunt, his neighbour, pass'd that way,
The debtor saw and slipped away.
Old Scrape-all thus, with sigh profound,
And wheezing cough, a church-yard sound!
Address'd, with lifted hand, his friend—
I think my griefs will never end!
The hog that wallows in his sty
Has thrice more happiness than I!
My care is now, whilst others sleep,
Not, how to gain, but how to keep.
Was at a trembling debtor railing,
Threat'ning if he a mite should fail
To whelm him in a neighbouring jail,
When Blunt, his neighbour, pass'd that way,
The debtor saw and slipped away.
Old Scrape-all thus, with sigh profound,
And wheezing cough, a church-yard sound!
Address'd, with lifted hand, his friend—
I think my griefs will never end!
The hog that wallows in his sty
Has thrice more happiness than I!
My care is now, whilst others sleep,
Not, how to gain, but how to keep.
89
Said Blunt—As usual, still, I see,
Brimful of woes and misery!—
Riches—the thing which others bless,
To you bring nought but wretchedness!
But tho' your purse is deep and strong,
Old man, you cannot hold it long;
Your years on years have so increased.
You must be four-score, now, at least.
Brimful of woes and misery!—
Riches—the thing which others bless,
To you bring nought but wretchedness!
But tho' your purse is deep and strong,
Old man, you cannot hold it long;
Your years on years have so increased.
You must be four-score, now, at least.
Speak louder, friend, my ears do fail,
I'm grown as deaf as a door-nail.—
I say, your years have so increased,
You must be four-score, now, at least.
I'm grown as deaf as a door-nail.—
I say, your years have so increased,
You must be four-score, now, at least.
Hold, hold! (he cried) you're far away!
I am but seventy-nine, this day,
And think, whatever others fear,
I still may reach my hundredth year!
I am but seventy-nine, this day,
And think, whatever others fear,
I still may reach my hundredth year!
Said Blunt, Now make me your confessor!
Pray, whom do you keep your riches for?
That mighty hoard of rusty pelf?—
Whom for! cried Scrape-all—for myself!
And when, at length, I die—five-score
Or thereabouts,—say, ten years more,
My wealth, I do design, shall be
Placed in my coffin, close by me;—
'Tis right, you know, that friends should lie
Near to each other when they die!
Pray, whom do you keep your riches for?
90
Whom for! cried Scrape-all—for myself!
And when, at length, I die—five-score
Or thereabouts,—say, ten years more,
My wealth, I do design, shall be
Placed in my coffin, close by me;—
'Tis right, you know, that friends should lie
Near to each other when they die!
Nay, answer'd Blunt, when you are dead,
Authority, you'll find, is fled;
Some one, no doubt, will still contrive
To keep your slumbering gold alive.—
Make! make, your will!—Howe'er it grieve,
You must your all, to some one leave!
Authority, you'll find, is fled;
Some one, no doubt, will still contrive
To keep your slumbering gold alive.—
Make! make, your will!—Howe'er it grieve,
You must your all, to some one leave!
What! make my will! My all bestow
On some one else? No! neighbour, no!
I'll be, whilst these my hands can hold,
The only keeper of my gold;
From night to morn, from morn to night,
I'll keep it close and hold it tight!
On some one else? No! neighbour, no!
I'll be, whilst these my hands can hold,
The only keeper of my gold;
From night to morn, from morn to night,
I'll keep it close and hold it tight!
91
You rightly speak, you are no more
Than—keeper to your golden store;
But when you die, as die you must,
To whom will you bequeath your trust?—
Than—keeper to your golden store;
But when you die, as die you must,
To whom will you bequeath your trust?—
To No one! Scrape-all, stern replied!
The whole, I'll in my coffin hide!
Since Elwes's dead there's no one living
Who knows the value of a shilling!
Were he alive—(it is my whim)
That virtuous man! I'd give it him;
But all, except my honour'd friend,
Believe that money's made to spend!
Therefore, in spite of folly's scoffing,
I'll put my money in my coffin!—
I, who have scraped for fifty years,
With ceaseless toil, and hourly fears,
Shall I give all away, at last?
No! neighbour, no! I'll hold it fast!
The whole, I'll in my coffin hide!
Since Elwes's dead there's no one living
Who knows the value of a shilling!
Were he alive—(it is my whim)
That virtuous man! I'd give it him;
But all, except my honour'd friend,
Believe that money's made to spend!
Therefore, in spite of folly's scoffing,
I'll put my money in my coffin!—
I, who have scraped for fifty years,
With ceaseless toil, and hourly fears,
Shall I give all away, at last?
No! neighbour, no! I'll hold it fast!
Strive how you will, your wealth to save,
You cannot hold it in the grave!
Altho', old man! it rend your heart,
Your gold and you, at length must part!
You cannot hold it in the grave!
92
Your gold and you, at length must part!
Said Scrape-all, sorrowful and slow,
Well then! come thirty years, or so,
And I will think on this affair,
And, if needs be, appoint my heir.
Well then! come thirty years, or so,
And I will think on this affair,
And, if needs be, appoint my heir.
Cried Blunt, No moment lose! you now
Your head with age and palsy bow!—
I guess, when Jack, your wealth has got,
He soon will spend it all! A sot!
And ere you've closed your eyes a year,
Behind a prison-grate appear!
Your head with age and palsy bow!—
I guess, when Jack, your wealth has got,
He soon will spend it all! A sot!
And ere you've closed your eyes a year,
Behind a prison-grate appear!
My spend-thrift Nephew, here, I swear,
Shall never be rich Scrape-all's heir!
Shall never be rich Scrape-all's heir!
Then make your will! or, 'twill be so!
He'll have it all, when you are low!
He'll have it all, when you are low!
What! make my will just in my prime,
'Twould be to die before my time!
'Twould be to die before my time!
93
Nay, Blunt replied, be well content!
You will not die, nor Jack lament
The sooner for this instrument.
And I would more in candour say—
Do good, friend Scrape-all, while you may!
Or else, when dead, your wealth bestow;—
(You will not see the money go!—)
Erect, and you will gain renown,
A school, within your native town;
Then build a hospital, that fame,
When you are dead, may bless your name;—
Thus, when has ceased your mortal reign,
In generous deeds, you'll live again.—
For you 'twill be a small bequest,
Your nephew then may spend the rest.
You will not die, nor Jack lament
The sooner for this instrument.
And I would more in candour say—
Do good, friend Scrape-all, while you may!
Or else, when dead, your wealth bestow;—
(You will not see the money go!—)
Erect, and you will gain renown,
A school, within your native town;
Then build a hospital, that fame,
When you are dead, may bless your name;—
Thus, when has ceased your mortal reign,
In generous deeds, you'll live again.—
For you 'twill be a small bequest,
Your nephew then may spend the rest.
Cried Scrape-all, Never, whilst I live,
Will I a mite to any give!
And having saved so long, can I
Give all, for nothing! when I die?
No, no! good neighbour, to the last,
With bolt and bar! I'll hold it fast!—
And as I cannot give, when dead,
The law shall give it in my stead!—
But as for Jack, again I swear,
The rogue shall never be my heir!—
Will I a mite to any give!
And having saved so long, can I
Give all, for nothing! when I die?
No, no! good neighbour, to the last,
With bolt and bar! I'll hold it fast!—
94
The law shall give it in my stead!—
But as for Jack, again I swear,
The rogue shall never be my heir!—
One year is past!—Let thirst of gold
Its object, and its end behold!—
Whilst none their diff'rent lots bewail—
Scrape-all is dead! and, Jack's in jail!!
Its object, and its end behold!—
Whilst none their diff'rent lots bewail—
Scrape-all is dead! and, Jack's in jail!!
95
MR. BODY's REMONSTRANCE WITH HIS DISSOLUTE MASTER, MR. MIND.
WRITTEN IN WINTER.
Why dost thou treat me thus, harsh master, say!
Why, with hard usage, wear me half away?
Perverse of spirit! thou, a jarring wire,
Lovest what I lothe, and hat'st what I admire.
I like the simple beverage of the spring,
But east and west to thee their poisons bring,
And I (Oh! woe to tell), of abject state,
Must ope my mouth and drink what most I hate.
Now beer, or burton deep, disturbs my crown,
Now porter, gross and heavy, weighs me down,
Now wines, with draught on draught, black, white, and red,
Before my sight a strange confusion spread;
And now (with grief I tell) comes piping toddy,
Or punch, to torture me afresh, poor Body!
Whilst now, at once to undermine my lever
Up comes sheer brandy, full of fire and fever,
I drink, till madness in my brain I feel,
And to the earth, like lead, instinctive reel!
Why, with hard usage, wear me half away?
Perverse of spirit! thou, a jarring wire,
Lovest what I lothe, and hat'st what I admire.
I like the simple beverage of the spring,
But east and west to thee their poisons bring,
And I (Oh! woe to tell), of abject state,
Must ope my mouth and drink what most I hate.
Now beer, or burton deep, disturbs my crown,
Now porter, gross and heavy, weighs me down,
Now wines, with draught on draught, black, white, and red,
Before my sight a strange confusion spread;
And now (with grief I tell) comes piping toddy,
Or punch, to torture me afresh, poor Body!
96
Up comes sheer brandy, full of fire and fever,
I drink, till madness in my brain I feel,
And to the earth, like lead, instinctive reel!
Now, good my Lord, can I my anguish smother,
That I should pull one way, and thou the other?
While thou dost wrong on wrong regardless heap,
Can I my woes forget, or cease to weep?
Full seventy years compose my mortal day,
But thy intemperance steals them half away.
From good plain beef and solid mutton sent 'e,
Thou turnest, and disdain'st the vulgar plenty,
Whilst nought but treble courses will content 'e;
These, to provide, with scout and busy rover,
Sea, earth, and heaven itself, are ransack'd over,
And when they come, the very blind might stare,
Such loads of fish and fowl, such dainty fare,
Such game and venison, soups and conserves rare!
In truth, the groaning board to fancy's eye,
Seems piled, like Father Atlas, to the sky!
That I should pull one way, and thou the other?
While thou dost wrong on wrong regardless heap,
Can I my woes forget, or cease to weep?
Full seventy years compose my mortal day,
But thy intemperance steals them half away.
From good plain beef and solid mutton sent 'e,
Thou turnest, and disdain'st the vulgar plenty,
Whilst nought but treble courses will content 'e;
These, to provide, with scout and busy rover,
Sea, earth, and heaven itself, are ransack'd over,
And when they come, the very blind might stare,
Such loads of fish and fowl, such dainty fare,
Such game and venison, soups and conserves rare!
In truth, the groaning board to fancy's eye,
Seems piled, like Father Atlas, to the sky!
97
Thou, while my stomach-stretch'd spare inch contains,
Right on dost make me eat, till nought remains
But indigestion, source of aches and pains.
Thence sickness I endure, or surfeit, teasing,
Rheum makes me limp, or asthma sets me wheezing,
And now, to crown the sum of my deploring,
With swoln and bolster'd legs (o'er folly poring)
Old Gout, with horrid twitches, keeps me roaring!
I love the early hour, and when the sky
Darkness o'ercasts, in peaceful sleep to lie;
Thou scornest day, and (fetter'd still to wrong)
Stunnest dull night with revelry and song,
When, just as others rise, a goodly number,
Thou dragg'st me yawning back, like household lumber,
Amid the sun, in some dark nook to slumber!
Is this the way that we should both agree?
I suffering, thou inflicting misery?
Alas! my cruel Lord, that this should be!
Right on dost make me eat, till nought remains
But indigestion, source of aches and pains.
Thence sickness I endure, or surfeit, teasing,
Rheum makes me limp, or asthma sets me wheezing,
And now, to crown the sum of my deploring,
With swoln and bolster'd legs (o'er folly poring)
Old Gout, with horrid twitches, keeps me roaring!
I love the early hour, and when the sky
Darkness o'ercasts, in peaceful sleep to lie;
Thou scornest day, and (fetter'd still to wrong)
Stunnest dull night with revelry and song,
When, just as others rise, a goodly number,
Thou dragg'st me yawning back, like household lumber,
Amid the sun, in some dark nook to slumber!
Is this the way that we should both agree?
I suffering, thou inflicting misery?
Alas! my cruel Lord, that this should be!
98
I had complain'd that I was forced to go
Without surtout, amid this hour of snow,
But ere the words I spake, a damsel fair,
Shivering drew nigh, her arms, her bosom bare,
Following the thoughtless crowd (Oh, wisdom brave!)
Who love, with gauze to dance it to the grave!
Stamping, I cried, from fashion's slavish chain,
Boldly break loose, and clothing bear again,
Let prudence sway, let modesty restrain!
The damsel, coughing, cried, Too late I sigh!
My mother taught me how to dress and die!
Without surtout, amid this hour of snow,
But ere the words I spake, a damsel fair,
Shivering drew nigh, her arms, her bosom bare,
Following the thoughtless crowd (Oh, wisdom brave!)
Who love, with gauze to dance it to the grave!
Stamping, I cried, from fashion's slavish chain,
Boldly break loose, and clothing bear again,
Let prudence sway, let modesty restrain!
The damsel, coughing, cried, Too late I sigh!
My mother taught me how to dress and die!
99
STRAW PICKERS.
A motley company I see,
All picking straws and earnestly;
The youth, the middle-aged, and grey,
Make picking straws their only play;
It has a mystic charm I ween,
For such a sight is always seen.
All picking straws and earnestly;
The youth, the middle-aged, and grey,
Make picking straws their only play;
It has a mystic charm I ween,
For such a sight is always seen.
The blast is high, but what to them
Is oak-tree rifted to its stem;
The thunder rattles thro' the sky
The lightning flashes fearfully;
Yet nothing from their sport can take 'em,
Not storms that drench, nor winds that shake 'em.
Is oak-tree rifted to its stem;
The thunder rattles thro' the sky
The lightning flashes fearfully;
Yet nothing from their sport can take 'em,
Not storms that drench, nor winds that shake 'em.
A house adjacent now is flaming,
But trifle this not worth the naming:
A funeral passes slowly near!
And there the orphan train appear!
Yet dead to each obtruding sight,
They pick their straws from morn to night.
But trifle this not worth the naming:
100
And there the orphan train appear!
Yet dead to each obtruding sight,
They pick their straws from morn to night.
Was ever folly so degrading!
But cease this spirit of upbraiding.
Similitudes of fools like these
Are found in men of all degrees;
And few, the polish'd or the rude,
May scorn this straw-pleased multitude.
But cease this spirit of upbraiding.
Similitudes of fools like these
Are found in men of all degrees;
And few, the polish'd or the rude,
May scorn this straw-pleased multitude.
The hosts who drown in wine their sorrow,
And think not of a worse to-morrow;
The huntsmen who their necks endanger,
By following Brash, and Dash, and Ranger,
Can never laugh, whate'er they say,
At men more rational than they.
And think not of a worse to-morrow;
The huntsmen who their necks endanger,
By following Brash, and Dash, and Ranger,
Can never laugh, whate'er they say,
At men more rational than they.
And gamesters, whether old or young,
Concerning straws must hold their tongue;
For they who stake upon a throw
Their children's bread, their all below,
Have lost the very power to feel,
Their breasts are stone, their hearts are steel.
Concerning straws must hold their tongue;
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Their children's bread, their all below,
Have lost the very power to feel,
Their breasts are stone, their hearts are steel.
The miser, too, whose anger waxes,
At thought of spendthrifts, cheats, and taxes;
Who mourns each penny that he spends,
(As friends bewail departed friends),
Till heirs impatient close his eyes,
He cannot picking straws despise.
At thought of spendthrifts, cheats, and taxes;
Who mourns each penny that he spends,
(As friends bewail departed friends),
Till heirs impatient close his eyes,
He cannot picking straws despise.
And can they boast a nobler treasure,
The men, misnamed the men of pleasure,
Who, if aroused to see their state,
Repentance purchase when too late?
Can these, with commerce so ungainful,
Upon straw-pickers look disdainful?
The men, misnamed the men of pleasure,
Who, if aroused to see their state,
Repentance purchase when too late?
Can these, with commerce so ungainful,
Upon straw-pickers look disdainful?
While those who leave their proper calling,
On names and thread-bare dogmas bawling;
Who, tippling, rapturous hail the story
Of chiefs, and high concerns, and glory,—
With starving wife and child at home,
For fools, such have not far to roam.
On names and thread-bare dogmas bawling;
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Of chiefs, and high concerns, and glory,—
With starving wife and child at home,
For fools, such have not far to roam.
Nor wiser they, whose footsteps falter,
Who build the house, again to alter,
With fifty rooms where ten might do,
(Which once a year they scarce can view)
That ages hence, oh, melancholy!
Might blaze their riches and their folly.
Who build the house, again to alter,
With fifty rooms where ten might do,
(Which once a year they scarce can view)
That ages hence, oh, melancholy!
Might blaze their riches and their folly.
What can such restless crowds decoy,
From home, the seat of every joy,
Where they, with all a parent's pride,
Might sit beside their own fireside,
But that they distant realms might see,
To pick new straws in luxury?
From home, the seat of every joy,
Where they, with all a parent's pride,
Might sit beside their own fireside,
But that they distant realms might see,
To pick new straws in luxury?
Many there are, of old, as now
Who weave straw-chaplets for their brow?
In quest of food, like roving bird,
Who migrate where the lute is heard;
Wasting whole nights, 'mid catch and glee,
'Tween tweedledum, and tweedledee.
Who weave straw-chaplets for their brow?
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Who migrate where the lute is heard;
Wasting whole nights, 'mid catch and glee,
'Tween tweedledum, and tweedledee.
And what if some who loudest rail
At senseless straws themselves should fail!
And prove to be, thro' life's short day,
Straw-pickers, in a different way!
Clear is the truth as yonder sun,
Which they who even spell may run.
At senseless straws themselves should fail!
And prove to be, thro' life's short day,
Straw-pickers, in a different way!
Clear is the truth as yonder sun,
Which they who even spell may run.
Restrain your smile at this rehearsal;
The taste for straws is universal.
This is the sport that suits all ages,
Noviciates, with wits and sages.
From east to west, where'er we turn,
Straw picking is the great concern.
The taste for straws is universal.
This is the sport that suits all ages,
Noviciates, with wits and sages.
From east to west, where'er we turn,
Straw picking is the great concern.
Ah! now the grand solution rises,
So simple that it half surprises.
Untaught by ages past away,
Men hold the tyrant, Death, at bay,
And, strange to tell, “with strong endeavour,”
Believe their lives will last for ever!
So simple that it half surprises.
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Men hold the tyrant, Death, at bay,
And, strange to tell, “with strong endeavour,”
Believe their lives will last for ever!
Or, else, e'en brutes would men resemble,
Not at Eternity to tremble!
To stand on Time's uncertain shore,
With mist, and darkness, all before,
Yet solemn thoughts disturb then never!
They must expect to live for ever.
Not at Eternity to tremble!
To stand on Time's uncertain shore,
With mist, and darkness, all before,
Yet solemn thoughts disturb then never!
They must expect to live for ever.
Fresh proofs, and sad, of this confession,
Before me pass in long succession.—
All fools, all abject fools are these!
Each, just regarding what he sees,
Makes this poor world his idol mother,
And never thinks upon another!
Before me pass in long succession.—
All fools, all abject fools are these!
Each, just regarding what he sees,
Makes this poor world his idol mother,
And never thinks upon another!
105
AN EXPOSTULATORY EPISTLE TO LORD BYRON.
What days are these! in which the rabble rout,
At once, from Stygian realms, come pouring out,
Truth to subvert, and burst the social chain,
That chaos and old night once more may reign!
At once, from Stygian realms, come pouring out,
Truth to subvert, and burst the social chain,
That chaos and old night once more may reign!
Amid ephemeral swarms of graceless things,
Now scoffing at the Highest, now at kings,
Who wisdom, in her sanctity, despise,
Leagued close to do what evil in them lies,
(Seeking to undermine, confound, o'erthrow,
Whate'er of excellence is found below,—
The goodly fane our virtuous fathers rear'd,
The Book they honour'd, and the God they fear'd,)
Some foremost stand, tho' not unknown to fame!
To wage th'assault on decency and shame!
Their keenest arrow urged, their stoutest spear,
At each who dares the fainting virtues cheer;
Their sworn and deadliest foes, whoe'er may strive
To keep the vestal spark of faith alive.
Now scoffing at the Highest, now at kings,
Who wisdom, in her sanctity, despise,
Leagued close to do what evil in them lies,
(Seeking to undermine, confound, o'erthrow,
Whate'er of excellence is found below,—
The goodly fane our virtuous fathers rear'd,
The Book they honour'd, and the God they fear'd,)
106
To wage th'assault on decency and shame!
Their keenest arrow urged, their stoutest spear,
At each who dares the fainting virtues cheer;
Their sworn and deadliest foes, whoe'er may strive
To keep the vestal spark of faith alive.
Towering above the abjects, who surpass,
In size and feature, all earth's morbid mass,
(Those who confound, in numbers, right and wrong,
And desecrate the sacred gift of song,)
Is there one man, of harsh plebeian mind,
On all his race who wars with fury blind;
Of such perverted principles and ways,
Whose praise is censure, and whose censure praise;
With human sympathies who scorns to dwell,
Proud as was he who chose to rule in hell;
Disdaining, born to move in regions higher,
Whate'er the great, the good, the pure, admire;
The gaunt and fearful aspect of whose soul
Bursts thro' his tales, like peals, that round us roll?
One such there is, from Erebus and Night,
Whom nobles blush to own, a waspish wight!
With spleen and gall, from infancy, who grew,
With henbane nurtured, not Hymettian dew;
Who, tho' preferring deeds of darker dye,
Oft sports in monstrous pastimes, none knows why;
Who urged by instinct follies to pursue,
“Exhausts” the old, “and then imagines new.”
O Helicon, thy recreant son bewail!
O deed, at which barbarians might turn pale
He, spurn'd of nature, callous more than dull,
Can quaff libations from his father's skull!
In size and feature, all earth's morbid mass,
(Those who confound, in numbers, right and wrong,
And desecrate the sacred gift of song,)
Is there one man, of harsh plebeian mind,
On all his race who wars with fury blind;
Of such perverted principles and ways,
Whose praise is censure, and whose censure praise;
With human sympathies who scorns to dwell,
Proud as was he who chose to rule in hell;
Disdaining, born to move in regions higher,
Whate'er the great, the good, the pure, admire;
The gaunt and fearful aspect of whose soul
Bursts thro' his tales, like peals, that round us roll?
107
Whom nobles blush to own, a waspish wight!
With spleen and gall, from infancy, who grew,
With henbane nurtured, not Hymettian dew;
Who, tho' preferring deeds of darker dye,
Oft sports in monstrous pastimes, none knows why;
Who urged by instinct follies to pursue,
“Exhausts” the old, “and then imagines new.”
O Helicon, thy recreant son bewail!
O deed, at which barbarians might turn pale
He, spurn'd of nature, callous more than dull,
Can quaff libations from his father's skull!
Would that to outrage decency and sense,
Shame to deride, and mock at penitence,
Were all the heart deplored in his career!
Yet, deeper shades, in long array, appear.
Impetuous some in paths of madness run,
Each crime bewail'd the moment it is done,
But he, with spirit cold and hard as steel,
In fostering ill, compunction cannot feel.
Thro' Tomes up-piled, with poison deep imbued!
(Advancing to terrific magnitude!)
He seeks all hallow'd precincts to invade,
Vice to exalt, and virtue to degrade,
And whilst a thousand sighs to Heaven are sent,
Serenely sits in moral banishment!
Shame to deride, and mock at penitence,
Were all the heart deplored in his career!
Yet, deeper shades, in long array, appear.
Impetuous some in paths of madness run,
Each crime bewail'd the moment it is done,
But he, with spirit cold and hard as steel,
In fostering ill, compunction cannot feel.
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(Advancing to terrific magnitude!)
He seeks all hallow'd precincts to invade,
Vice to exalt, and virtue to degrade,
And whilst a thousand sighs to Heaven are sent,
Serenely sits in moral banishment!
Is there a man, how fallen! still to fall!
Who bears a dark precedency o'er all;—
Rejected by the land which gave him birth,
And wandering now an outcast thro' the earth;
On every virtuous door engraven, “hence!”
Whose very breath is plague and pestilence!—
A son, dismember'd, and to aliens thrown,
Corrupting other climes, but, first, his own?
One such there is! whom sires unborn will curse,
Hasting, with giant stride, from bad to worse,
Seeking, untired, to gain the sensual's smile,
A pander for the profligate and vile!
His head, rich fraught (like some Bazaar's sly stall),
With “lecherous lays” that “come” at every call!
Who still at sacred things can gibe and jeer,
Loud-laughing at the nursery bug-bear, fear,
And, of the Scriptures, just enough retain
To quote them with flagitious heart profane!
Who bears a dark precedency o'er all;—
Rejected by the land which gave him birth,
And wandering now an outcast thro' the earth;
On every virtuous door engraven, “hence!”
Whose very breath is plague and pestilence!—
A son, dismember'd, and to aliens thrown,
Corrupting other climes, but, first, his own?
One such there is! whom sires unborn will curse,
Hasting, with giant stride, from bad to worse,
Seeking, untired, to gain the sensual's smile,
A pander for the profligate and vile!
His head, rich fraught (like some Bazaar's sly stall),
With “lecherous lays” that “come” at every call!
109
Loud-laughing at the nursery bug-bear, fear,
And, of the Scriptures, just enough retain
To quote them with flagitious heart profane!
Mangling, like some voracious tiger blind,
Whome'er he deems the humbler of his kind,
He next, for havoc, furious springs on high,
He must, like slander, stigmatize, or die!
Now, wrathful, he assails each Letter'd Peer,
(The oak, to charm, must have no rival near!)
Insulting next—his Prince (by gnats unhurt)
With all a butcher's coarseness, “blood,” and “dirt!”
(The kindred champion, hail'd, with savage smiles,
By all the bullying H****, and base C********!)
Then paints himself, with features that appal!
The least traduced, and most deform'd of all!
Whome'er he deems the humbler of his kind,
He next, for havoc, furious springs on high,
He must, like slander, stigmatize, or die!
Now, wrathful, he assails each Letter'd Peer,
(The oak, to charm, must have no rival near!)
Insulting next—his Prince (by gnats unhurt)
With all a butcher's coarseness, “blood,” and “dirt!”
(The kindred champion, hail'd, with savage smiles,
By all the bullying H****, and base C********!)
Then paints himself, with features that appal!
The least traduced, and most deform'd of all!
There is a man, usurping lordly sway,
Aiming, alone, to hold a world at bay,
Who, mean as daring, arrogant as vain,
Like chaff, regards opinion with disdain;
As if the privilege with him were found,
The laws to spurn by which mankind are bound!
As if the arm which drags a despot down,
Must palsied fall before a Byron's frown!—
That meteor fading fast, that tarnish'd gem,
Which they who most admire, the most condemn!
Aiming, alone, to hold a world at bay,
110
Like chaff, regards opinion with disdain;
As if the privilege with him were found,
The laws to spurn by which mankind are bound!
As if the arm which drags a despot down,
Must palsied fall before a Byron's frown!—
That meteor fading fast, that tarnish'd gem,
Which they who most admire, the most condemn!
Spirit of Milton! and ye bards of old!
Great minds! who tinsel ne'er bequeath'd for gold!
What are his titles, his credentials strong,
Like you, to awe, when years have roll'd along?
With much for which e'en scribblers will not plead,
Frothy and vulgar, worthless as the weed,
Hath he the stately theme, the chaste design,
The thought that “breathes” and “burns” in classic line?
Is his the fabric rear'd for every age,
The intellectual being's heritage?
Great minds! who tinsel ne'er bequeath'd for gold!
What are his titles, his credentials strong,
Like you, to awe, when years have roll'd along?
With much for which e'en scribblers will not plead,
Frothy and vulgar, worthless as the weed,
Hath he the stately theme, the chaste design,
The thought that “breathes” and “burns” in classic line?
Is his the fabric rear'd for every age,
The intellectual being's heritage?
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Though many a bellowing trumpet swells his fame,
Some sceptics will this “Liberal Don” proclaim,—
Meteor, at first, mistaken for a star,
A marsh-bred Ignis in inflated car!
The flimsy idol of a flimsy day,
Like monarch Thespis hurrying fast away;
Predicting, spite of bays and parsley crown,
That what so soon goes up will soon go down!
Huns! Vandals! dead to the mellifluous line!
Treason against Parnassus and the Nine!
Of his substantial claims the doubt to raise,
When profligates pour forth such floods of praise!
More heterodox than rancorous Jew or Turk,
Let them peruse his everlasting work!
And when the twelfth huge quarto! meets their eyes,
Their folly own, and, with the mob, be wise.
Some sceptics will this “Liberal Don” proclaim,—
Meteor, at first, mistaken for a star,
A marsh-bred Ignis in inflated car!
The flimsy idol of a flimsy day,
Like monarch Thespis hurrying fast away;
Predicting, spite of bays and parsley crown,
That what so soon goes up will soon go down!
Huns! Vandals! dead to the mellifluous line!
Treason against Parnassus and the Nine!
Of his substantial claims the doubt to raise,
When profligates pour forth such floods of praise!
More heterodox than rancorous Jew or Turk,
Let them peruse his everlasting work!
And when the twelfth huge quarto! meets their eyes,
Their folly own, and, with the mob, be wise.
But now the muse on graver theme must dwell,
Or scorn'd, or not, before the word “farewell.”
Altho' the meeting want the courtier's grace,
We must draw near, in converse, face to face.
Or scorn'd, or not, before the word “farewell.”
112
We must draw near, in converse, face to face.
Receive from him the passing apothegm,
Who would rejoice to honour, not condemn.—
How poor is he, illumined, and yet dark,
Who trusts his genius to a crazy bark;
No star to guide, no pharos, helm, or chart,
Who owns a head, but cannot boast a heart,
Learn! and this trace let memory long retain;
The grand, the choicest inmate of thy brain!—
Worthless is song, alike in peer or clown,
(Doom'd not to wear Time's amaranthine crown)
If on the strain insulted Virtue frown.
Who would rejoice to honour, not condemn.—
How poor is he, illumined, and yet dark,
Who trusts his genius to a crazy bark;
No star to guide, no pharos, helm, or chart,
Who owns a head, but cannot boast a heart,
Learn! and this trace let memory long retain;
The grand, the choicest inmate of thy brain!—
Worthless is song, alike in peer or clown,
(Doom'd not to wear Time's amaranthine crown)
If on the strain insulted Virtue frown.
Is there no moment, when, the storm at rest,
Reflection steals like twilight o'er thy breast?
No hour, relieved from revelry's loud din,
When chill misgivings shake thy towers within?
Is Retrospect no stern intruder rude?
No foe, with pointed dagger, Solitude?
Canst thou on night, in pomp of glory, gaze,
Her depths unknown, her congregated blaze,
Her starry voyagers, of high degree,
Sailing thro' oceans of infinity,
While silence holds her universal sway,
And earth and man, like atoms, pass away?
Canst thou o'er scenes like these thy glance extend,
And hear no voice, which spirits comprehend,
Telling, in soft celestial cadence clear,
Of worlds beyond this low sublunar sphere?
With destinies before thee, so sublime!
Why pinion down thy soul to sense and time?
Must never one, of all thy readers, rise,
Fresh from thy page, more purified, more wise?—
No future mind, kindling with virtue's fire,
Look back on Harold's Bard, and bless his lyre?
Reflection steals like twilight o'er thy breast?
No hour, relieved from revelry's loud din,
When chill misgivings shake thy towers within?
Is Retrospect no stern intruder rude?
No foe, with pointed dagger, Solitude?
113
Her depths unknown, her congregated blaze,
Her starry voyagers, of high degree,
Sailing thro' oceans of infinity,
While silence holds her universal sway,
And earth and man, like atoms, pass away?
Canst thou o'er scenes like these thy glance extend,
And hear no voice, which spirits comprehend,
Telling, in soft celestial cadence clear,
Of worlds beyond this low sublunar sphere?
With destinies before thee, so sublime!
Why pinion down thy soul to sense and time?
Must never one, of all thy readers, rise,
Fresh from thy page, more purified, more wise?—
No future mind, kindling with virtue's fire,
Look back on Harold's Bard, and bless his lyre?
From thy compeers in genius wisely learn:—
From which of Southey's lines must virtue turn?
(Who, bold with Hell's vicegerents war to wage,
Brands the “Satanic school” to every age;
His visitings, Herculean, chief descending,
Upon the “Head and front of the offending”)
Which verse shall Wordsworth ever blush to own?
Or Coleridge? spirit still of height unknown.
What tongue of Scotland's regal bard shall say,
Poison, with pleasure, mingles in his lay?
When shall Montgomery baneful lines bewail?
Or Crabbe? who haunts us, like the nursery tale;—
Bowles? Rogers? Barton? rich in native store;
Or Campbell? would that I could add, or Moore!
From which of Southey's lines must virtue turn?
(Who, bold with Hell's vicegerents war to wage,
Brands the “Satanic school” to every age;
114
Upon the “Head and front of the offending”)
Which verse shall Wordsworth ever blush to own?
Or Coleridge? spirit still of height unknown.
What tongue of Scotland's regal bard shall say,
Poison, with pleasure, mingles in his lay?
When shall Montgomery baneful lines bewail?
Or Crabbe? who haunts us, like the nursery tale;—
Bowles? Rogers? Barton? rich in native store;
Or Campbell? would that I could add, or Moore!
Were powers, to stir the passions, such as thine,
A wit so subtile, fancies so divine,
Entrusted to corrupt, and turn aside
Whoe'er may take thy fatuus for a guide?—
Nor to one age confined, but (wave on wave!)
Prolong'd, when thou art moulder'd in thy grave!
As soon the marble crust thy head must hold
And, long eternity! her gates unfold,
Canst thou reflect, and stamp with firmer tread,
Upon that changeless state, so near! so dread!
Nor feel one rising wish, with those to dwell
Who stemm'd the tide of ill, and practiced well?—
Names sent embalm'd to every age and shore,
Like Howard, Thornton, Wilberforce, and More?
Prospect, diffusing sun-shine through the breast,—
To reign with spirits perfected and blest!
A wit so subtile, fancies so divine,
Entrusted to corrupt, and turn aside
Whoe'er may take thy fatuus for a guide?—
Nor to one age confined, but (wave on wave!)
Prolong'd, when thou art moulder'd in thy grave!
As soon the marble crust thy head must hold
And, long eternity! her gates unfold,
Canst thou reflect, and stamp with firmer tread,
Upon that changeless state, so near! so dread!
115
Who stemm'd the tide of ill, and practiced well?—
Names sent embalm'd to every age and shore,
Like Howard, Thornton, Wilberforce, and More?
Prospect, diffusing sun-shine through the breast,—
To reign with spirits perfected and blest!
Ah! thought of dread! Thine is a shoreless sea!
Such vernal zephyrs never blow on thee!
Climbing to heights the Gallic fiend ne'er trod,
Thou lift'st thy front against the Throne of God!
Heading the Atheist crew! and, dost obtrude
Thy scoff of all that—moves the multitude!
Of hope, descrying better worlds afar!—
Of faith, still fix'd upon her “morning star!”
Best Antidote! “which he who runs may read,”
Thy life, the lucid comment on thy creed;
Thy refuge, the drear trust, some, comfort call!
That endless sleep, ere long, will cover all!
Such vernal zephyrs never blow on thee!
Climbing to heights the Gallic fiend ne'er trod,
Thou lift'st thy front against the Throne of God!
Heading the Atheist crew! and, dost obtrude
Thy scoff of all that—moves the multitude!
Of hope, descrying better worlds afar!—
Of faith, still fix'd upon her “morning star!”
Best Antidote! “which he who runs may read,”
Thy life, the lucid comment on thy creed;
Thy refuge, the drear trust, some, comfort call!
That endless sleep, ere long, will cover all!
Dost thou aspire, like a Satanic mind,
With vice, to waste and desolate mankind?—
Toward every rude, and dark, and dismal deed,
To see them hurrying on with swifter speed?
To make them, from restraint and conscience free,
Stretch, fiend-like, at new heights of infamy?
With vice, to waste and desolate mankind?—
116
To see them hurrying on with swifter speed?
To make them, from restraint and conscience free,
Stretch, fiend-like, at new heights of infamy?
Sunk, but not lost, from dreams of death arise!
No longer tempt the patience of the skies!
Confess, with tears of blood, to frowning Heaven,
The foul perversion of his talents given!
Retrace thy footsteps! Ere the wish be vain,
Bring back the erring thousands in thy train!
Let none, at death, despairing, charge on thee
Their blasted peace, in shuddering agony!
Their prop, their heart's last solace, rent away,
That one long night might quench their “perfect day!”
No longer tempt the patience of the skies!
Confess, with tears of blood, to frowning Heaven,
The foul perversion of his talents given!
Retrace thy footsteps! Ere the wish be vain,
Bring back the erring thousands in thy train!
Let none, at death, despairing, charge on thee
Their blasted peace, in shuddering agony!
Their prop, their heart's last solace, rent away,
That one long night might quench their “perfect day!”
Lest Shelley's fate be thine, or one more dread
(Thy home associate, in one cradle bred!)
That being who could raise his ghastly eye,
Encompass'd by the blaze of Deity,
And utter, whilst his blood serenely flows,—
“There is no God!” —whose terrors now he knows!
Lest in his wrath thy Maker's lifted hand,
Brand thee, a spectacle to every land;
Or the portentous moment thou deplore,
When vengeance wakes and mercy pleads no more;
Redeem the future! Cleanse the Augean stye!
Learn, better how to live! and how to die!
(Thy home associate, in one cradle bred!)
That being who could raise his ghastly eye,
Encompass'd by the blaze of Deity,
117
“There is no God!” —whose terrors now he knows!
Lest in his wrath thy Maker's lifted hand,
Brand thee, a spectacle to every land;
Or the portentous moment thou deplore,
When vengeance wakes and mercy pleads no more;
Redeem the future! Cleanse the Augean stye!
Learn, better how to live! and how to die!
| Dartmoor, and other poems | |