Malvern Hills with Minor Poems, and Essays. By Joseph Cottle. Fourth Edition |
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 | Malvern Hills |  |
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.
Though foibles may sometimes 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,
Without thee unfriended we rove;
Thou canst make e'en the desert look fair,
And thy voice is the voice of the dove.
Without thee unfriended we rove;
Thou canst make e'en the desert look fair,
And thy voice is the voice of the dove.
154
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;
What shall lull the afflicted to rest,
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 steadfast and kind?
The idol and bane of mankind;
What is wit, what is learning, or science,
To the heart that is steadfast 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!
THE WINTER ROBIN.
SWEET Robin! I hail thy appearance once more,
Come sing in my garden, or peck at my door;
Though an ingrate for favours so often conferr'd,
I still view with pleasure my favourite bird.
Come sing in my garden, or peck at my door;
Though an ingrate for favours so often conferr'd,
I still view with pleasure my favourite bird.
155
When the last winter's tempest rushed 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, long repressed, and thy plumage of gold;
And the oftener thou cam'st from thy dwelling unknown,
The more welcome thou wast to the crumbs I had thrown.
Thy flight, long repressed, and thy plumage of gold;
And the oftener 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,
Ah! then, mid the blaze of prosperity's reign,
I sought for my Robin, but sought him in vain!
Now that summer is pass'd, 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 dyed?
Though of reason possess'd and instruction divine,
My spirit is far more ungrateful than thine!
Have I no conviction of crimes deeper dyed?
Though 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, while I sumptuously fared,
Forgotten the hand that my banquet prepared!
One friend has preserved and supported me too;
Yet how often have I, while I sumptuously fared,
Forgotten the hand that my banquet prepared!
156
WRITTEN, (1793) WITH A PENCIL, ON THE WALL OF THE ROOM IN BRISTOL NEWGATE, where SAVAGE died.
HERE Savage linger'd long, and here expired!
The mean — the proud — the censured — the admired!
The mean — the proud — the censured — the admired!
If, wandering o'er misfortune's sad retreat,
Stranger! these lines arrest thy passing feet,
And recollection urge the deeds of shame
That tarnish'd once an unblest Poet's fame;
Judge not another till thyself art free,
And hear the gentle voice of charity.
“No friend received him, and no mother's care
“Shelter'd his infant innocence with prayer;
“No father's guardian hand his youth maintain'd,
“Call'd forth his virtues, or from vice restrain'd.”
Stranger! these lines arrest thy passing feet,
And recollection urge the deeds of shame
That tarnish'd once an unblest Poet's fame;
Judge not another till thyself art free,
And hear the gentle voice of charity.
“No friend received him, and no mother's care
“Shelter'd his infant innocence with prayer;
“No father's guardian hand his youth maintain'd,
“Call'd forth his virtues, or from vice restrain'd.”
Reader! hadst thou been to neglect consign'd,
And cast upon the mercy of mankind;
Through the wide world, like Savage, forced to stray,
And find, like him, one long and stormy day;
Objects less noble might thy soul have sway'd,
Or crimes, around thee, cast a deeper shade.
Whilst poring o'er another's mad career,
Drop for thyself the penitential tear:
Though prized by friends, and nurs'd in innocence,
How oft has folly wrong'd thy better sense!
But if some virtues in thy breast there be,
Ask, if they sprang from circumstance, or thee!
And ever to thy heart the precept bear,
When thine own conscience smites, a wayward brother spare!
And cast upon the mercy of mankind;
Through the wide world, like Savage, forced to stray,
And find, like him, one long and stormy day;
Objects less noble might thy soul have sway'd,
Or crimes, around thee, cast a deeper shade.
Whilst poring o'er another's mad career,
Drop for thyself the penitential tear:
Though prized by friends, and nurs'd in innocence,
How oft has folly wrong'd thy better sense!
But if some virtues in thy breast there be,
Ask, if they sprang from circumstance, or thee!
And ever to thy heart the precept bear,
When thine own conscience smites, a wayward brother spare!
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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!
THE WELCOME SUMMONS.
THE SONG OF MONTALTO THE BRAVE, ADDRESSED TO MATILDA.
COME Matilda, blooming fair,
Hear thine own Montalto call;
With the lark will we repair,
To the loud rough waterfall.
Hear thine own Montalto call;
With the lark will we repair,
To the loud rough waterfall.
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Who can view the woodbine wreathe,
Lovely guardian, round the bower;
Who the early perfume breathe,
And not hail the balmy hour.
Lovely guardian, round the bower;
Who the early perfume breathe,
And not hail the balmy hour.
Now, wandering through the meadow wide,
With the wood-note warbling loud;
Now, by the clear meandering tide,
Gliding, like a monarch proud.
With the wood-note warbling loud;
Now, by the clear meandering tide,
Gliding, like a monarch proud.
Oh! who can view the yellow corn,
To the reaper bending low,
Or the ruby cloud of morn,
Nor the grateful heart o'erflow!
To the reaper bending low,
Or the ruby cloud of morn,
Nor the grateful heart o'erflow!
What with Nature may compare,
To awake the lofty thought?
Nature, ever new and fair,
Now to pomp of glory wrought.
To awake the lofty thought?
Nature, ever new and fair,
Now to pomp of glory wrought.
Before the fervid noon-tide ray,
Mark the air with quiet deep;
While yet the ruddy dawn delay,
And with dew the flowret weep;
Mark the air with quiet deep;
While yet the ruddy dawn delay,
And with dew the flowret weep;
All alone will we retreat,
Far from every prying eye;
And beguile the moment fleet,
With delightful colloquy.
Far from every prying eye;
And beguile the moment fleet,
With delightful colloquy.
Come! improve the happy time,
While we think, the whole may fade;
In the morning hour of prime,
Come, Matilda, blooming maid!
While we think, the whole may fade;
In the morning hour of prime,
Come, Matilda, blooming maid!
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ELLEN AND EDWARD.
(JUVENILE.)
REGARDLESS of the boisterous scene,
Upon the cold and rocky shore;
The wretched Ellen stood serene,
Nor heard the troubled Ocean's roar.
She look'd upon the evening star,
And, whilst the waves approach'd, she cried,
“Oh Edward! Edward! why so far
“From me, thy sad, and plighted bride?”
She look'd upon the twilight ray,
That linger'd in the western sky,
And cried, “Oh Edward! wherefore, say,
“That slighted Ellen thus should sigh?
“Dost thou now thy promise rue?
“Art thou false, as I am true?
Upon the cold and rocky shore;
The wretched Ellen stood serene,
Nor heard the troubled Ocean's roar.
She look'd upon the evening star,
And, whilst the waves approach'd, she cried,
“Oh Edward! Edward! why so far
“From me, thy sad, and plighted bride?”
She look'd upon the twilight ray,
That linger'd in the western sky,
And cried, “Oh Edward! wherefore, say,
“That slighted Ellen thus should sigh?
“Dost thou now thy promise rue?
“Art thou false, as I am true?
“Chief of all on earth I prize!
“What should keep thee from my arms?
“Hast thou found, mid other skies,
“Fonder maid, or brighter charms?
“Brighter charms thou may'st have found,
“Where thy roving feet have strayed;
“But never, never, earth around,
“Wilt thou find a fonder maid.
“Cruel Edward! why deride me?
“Why forget thy vows sincere?
“Cruel Edward! I could chide thee,
“But, though false, thou yet art dear!
“Heart, be still! thy anguish smother!—
“He is wedded to another!”
“What should keep thee from my arms?
“Hast thou found, mid other skies,
“Fonder maid, or brighter charms?
“Brighter charms thou may'st have found,
“Where thy roving feet have strayed;
“But never, never, earth around,
“Wilt thou find a fonder maid.
“Cruel Edward! why deride me?
“Why forget thy vows sincere?
“Cruel Edward! I could chide thee,
“But, though false, thou yet art dear!
“Heart, be still! thy anguish smother!—
“He is wedded to another!”
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Upon a rock the maiden stood,
And to the Ocean told her tale;
She saw not the advancing flood;
She heard not the tempestuous gale.
And now the foaming waters rise!
They swell! they reach the maiden's feet!
She gazes round with startled eyes!
She looks, but there is no retreat!
She calls for aid! the waves reply!
Her shriek is mingled with the storm!—
She saw a Spirit beck'ning nigh!
'Twas her own True Lover's form!
“Ellen, to my arms!” he cried,
“Cease to sorrow! cease to chide!”
While the howling tempests rave,
See! they sink beneath the wave!
And to the Ocean told her tale;
She saw not the advancing flood;
She heard not the tempestuous gale.
And now the foaming waters rise!
They swell! they reach the maiden's feet!
She gazes round with startled eyes!
She looks, but there is no retreat!
She calls for aid! the waves reply!
Her shriek is mingled with the storm!—
She saw a Spirit beck'ning nigh!
'Twas her own True Lover's form!
“Ellen, to my arms!” he cried,
“Cease to sorrow! cease to chide!”
While the howling tempests rave,
See! they sink beneath the wave!
DESTINY.
I
WAS it for a few short hoursOf fancied joys, but real pain,
That man was giv'n his lofty powers,
And made to drag affliction's chain?
Man! who with a daring eye
Can count the etherial worlds of fire,
Or, gazing at earth's tempests, cry,
I heed you not! — can then retire—
To his own Mind, and there converse
With himself, an universe!
161
II
Vain and impotent conceit,Which Vice may cherish, Virtue dread!
A low and gentle whisper sweet,
Bids us raise our drooping head;
Bids us prize our highest boast,
A future hope, that friend to care,
And respect ourselves the most
Of all in earth, or sea, or air;
Striving for a prize so high,
Our immortal destiny.
III
Fair and tranquil is the scene,The shadowy wood, the meadow gay:
The azure sky, the ocean green;
But these will quickly fade away:
For, like the sun, that, in the morn,
Rises full and fair to view,
Man with flattering hope is born,
And all is bright, as all is new:
But soon the fairy landscape flies,
And the whirlwind sweeps the skies.
IV
If life be but an April day,Where pleasure at a distance sings;
If manhood, and if youth display
But airy forms, and shadowy things;
Yet let us, whilst the clouds o'ercast
Our prospect, think with rapture true
That if our joys a moment last,
Fleeting are our sorrows too;
Joys and sorrows soon will lie,
In oblivion silently!
162
V
Why was consciousness bestow'd,Of the beautiful and chaste?
Why, beside life's rugged road,
Fruit, to charm, but not to taste?
Why have feelings fired the breast
Of purity, and worth refined,
By Fancy in her dreams carest,
Which we may seek, but never find?
Faith, in silence, casts her eye
To man's future destiny.
VI
Then let the storms of sorrow rave,Let the lurid lightnings blaze,
Let Dismay her banners wave,
And few and sad be mortal days!
Soaring on Religion's pinion,
This shall chase misfortune's night;
And, whilst we grope through earth's dominion,
Yield a pure, and constant light.
Fill'd with transport we may cry,
Speed, oh speed our destiny!
SORDID AGE AND ARTLESS YOUTH.
AGE.TALK not thus, unthinking youth,
Darting the enthusiast eyes,
Of your justice, and your truth,
And the liberty you prize;
163
Cast your cloister'd dreams away;
You must burst your mental prison,
And endure the light of day.
YOUTH.
Must I ever bid adieu
To the hopes I long have known,
And in sorrow find, like you,
That the dreams of youth are flown?
Must I check the glow of anguish
For a world so lost and blind?
And, beholding virtue languish,
Heap my praises on mankind?
AGE.
What is virtue but a name?
Phantom of the hermit's cell!
Those who covet wealth and fame,
Must with other beings dwell;
For the God whom men adore,
And whose laws alone can chain;
Interest is, as was before,
And for ever will remain.
YOUTH.
I will never meanly swerve
From the deed my heart allow'd,
I will never interest serve,
God of the ambitious crowd!
Wealth and fame, if these forsake me
For the loves my heart beguile;
Though at eve the storm o'ertake me,
In the morning I shall smile.
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What an infantine decision!
Think how all men will despise;
Can you bear the world's derision?
Can you meet their scornful eyes?
You may talk and you may blame,
Till with talking you are old;
In a world so dead to shame,
Virtue must be bought and sold.
YOUTH.
Never, never, ancient father!
Virtue must not stoop so low;
Truth and freedom I would rather
Honor, than all forms below;
These the spring of life shall nourish
When the wintry tempests sound;
Like the bay-tree, these shall flourish
Greener for the waste around.
AGE.
Thoughtless youth! you little know
What delusions round you throng;
You may feel your bosom glow,
At the sound of freedom's song;
You the rainbow tints may cast
O'er the forms that please your eye;
But, experience will at last
Show that all was vanity.
YOUTH.
Can it be that scenes so fair,
Marshall'd in their proud array,
Like the gorgeous glories are,
That follow on the parting day?
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To the beautiful and good,
Quench his first and best desires,
In Corruption's deadly flood?
AGE.
Yes, the youth must in the stream,
Plunge and leave them all behind;
Nor in manhood idly dream
Of friendship true, and justice blind.
From the first it was the rule
That strength should hold the sov'reignty,
All, are either knave or fool,
Such they were and still will be.
YOUTH.
Let me then awhile enjoy
Prospects that so soon must fade;
Why should gloomy fears annoy?
Why, the future, now invade?
Why should mariners, who gaze
At the blue and tranquil sky,
Looking on to stormy days,
Lose the pleasure that is nigh?
AGE.
I am fearful, you are bold,
And wish perpetual Spring to reign;
You are young, but I am old,
And tell you Winter must remain:
The fire of youth will soon subside,—
Its airy castles come to naught;
Then will you, with conscious pride,
Others teach as I have taught.
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Justice, teach, to treat with laughter!
Virtue, scoff at! vice pursue!
I have heard of an hereafter,
And believe that it is true!
But, if living, I must free
My nature from its Spring divine—
Father! may I never see
The Winter of an age like thine!
LINES WRITTEN IN AN ARBOUR AT TOCKINGTON.
ARBOUR! form'd for meditation,
Where I, musing, now recline;
Friendship's lays thy walls encircle!
Fragrant woodbines round thee twine.
Where I, musing, now recline;
Friendship's lays thy walls encircle!
Fragrant woodbines round thee twine.
Here, the zephyr, gently breathing,
Wafts its balmy sweets along;
Here, the distant wild-note warbling,
Charms the ear with nature's song.
Wafts its balmy sweets along;
Here, the distant wild-note warbling,
Charms the ear with nature's song.
Life! thou mystery of creation!
Whilst we see thy myriads fly;
Buzz around, or more aspiring,
Range the blue expanse of sky.
Whilst we see thy myriads fly;
Buzz around, or more aspiring,
Range the blue expanse of sky.
When we gaze with growing wonder
On the tall o'erhanging tree;
Or behold the nodding flowret
Robed in humbler majesty;
On the tall o'erhanging tree;
Or behold the nodding flowret
Robed in humbler majesty;
167
Reason asks, perplex'd, revolving,
Whence they came, in fair array;
And if chance, for ends uncertain,
Gave them to the light of day.
Whence they came, in fair array;
And if chance, for ends uncertain,
Gave them to the light of day.
Was it a delusive whisper,
That approach'd me soft and clear?
Hark! again the soothing accent
Gently steals upon mine ear;
That approach'd me soft and clear?
Hark! again the soothing accent
Gently steals upon mine ear;
“Nature through her wide dominion,
“Audible to every mind,
“Calls on man to praise his Maker,
“Ever bounteous, ever kind.
“Audible to every mind,
“Calls on man to praise his Maker,
“Ever bounteous, ever kind.
“He, the universe upholding,
“Smiles when spirits upward tend;
“In the varied works around thee,
“Read thy Father! see thy Friend!”
“Smiles when spirits upward tend;
“In the varied works around thee,
“Read thy Father! see thy Friend!”
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?
168
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!
The garden now hath lost its beauty,
The orchard near its dainty store:
The thistle triumphs o'er the lilly,
And all that charm'd now charms no more!
The orchard near its dainty store:
The thistle triumphs o'er the lilly,
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!
Receive, my soul, 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!
THE MISANTHROPE.
AND are there men, with hate oppress'd,
Self-centred, lonely, stern, forlorn;
Who gaze around, from east to west,
With eyes that only look to scorn?
Self-centred, lonely, stern, forlorn;
Who gaze around, from east to west,
With eyes that only look to scorn?
169
Who hates his race must hateful be,
A thing of Saturn, wandering here!
This is a world of sympathy;
Back to thine own benighted sphere!
A thing of Saturn, wandering here!
This is a world of sympathy;
Back to thine own benighted sphere!
EPITAPH
FOR A PROPOSED MONUMENT TO CHATTERTON, AT BRISTOL.
PAUSE, Stranger! this recording marble bears
The name of Chatterton! Few sons of woe
E'er past Life's sojourn, press'd with heavier cares,
Or felt, more oft, the tear, in darkness, flow.
The name of Chatterton! Few sons of woe
E'er past Life's sojourn, press'd with heavier cares,
Or felt, more oft, the tear, in darkness, flow.
Though Genius nursed him as her darling child,
And, round his brow, her choicest wreaths entwined,
Neglect turn'd, heedless, from his warblings wild,
And, far from friend and home, with want he pined!
And, round his brow, her choicest wreaths entwined,
Neglect turn'd, heedless, from his warblings wild,
And, far from friend and home, with want he pined!
Sighs now avail not! yet, a grateful age
Bestows the last poor meed that still remains,
This Tablet, less enduring than his page,
And gives him back his own transcendent strains.
Bestows the last poor meed that still remains,
This Tablet, less enduring than his page,
And gives him back his own transcendent strains.
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