Neglected Genius A Poem. Illustrating the Untimely And Unfortunate Fate Of Many British Poets; From the Period of Henry the Eighth to the Aera of the Unfortunate Chatterton. Containing Imitations of their Different Styles, &c. &c. By W. H. Ireland |
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Thomas Otway.
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Thomas Otway.
ACTIS ÆVUM IMPLET, NON SEGNIBUS ANNIS.
O, reader, list! for though thine heart be steel,
An Otway's doom must make thy bosom feel;
From adamant itself the tears might flow,
And dire obduracy own thrilling woe:
In life's full prime the victim genius view,
'Ray'd in full manliness and youthful hue;
Hear him controul the passions of the mind,
As from his Orphan flows the touch refin'd;
Or when, by love subdu'd, the tortur'd brain
Of Jaffier breathes to Belvidere his pain,—
In the fell struggle dooms to death his friend,
Then, rous'd by honor, shares his fatal end.
Think but of pathos when sweet Otway sings,
Soul-thrilling master of the plaintive strings;
Otway mellifluent—sublimely chaste,
Whose comprehension feeling's soul embrac'd;
Whose touch electric needs no pow'r of art,
But calls imperious on the throbbing heart:
It melts—it owns at once the just appeal,
True as if Shakspear's self had set his seal;
For, when he moans the anguish of the soul,
Not Avon's Bard o'er Otway claims controul;
Matchless in this their kindred spirits stand,
They smile accordance, and go hand in hand.—
Such is the muse I sing:—ah! fatal lay!
Must I with anguish blast its beamy ray?
Shall famine too with poverty combine,
To wrench from earth this offspring of the nine?
Yes; like the bud that's nipp'd by wintry blast,
Behold thy son, O genius! overcast:
He droops his head, unpitied pines for food,
The pangs of hunger curdle life's warm blood;
Impell'd by anguish, for relief he flies,—
Raging, ingulfs the food—is choak'd —and dies.
[OMITTED]
An Otway's doom must make thy bosom feel;
From adamant itself the tears might flow,
And dire obduracy own thrilling woe:
In life's full prime the victim genius view,
'Ray'd in full manliness and youthful hue;
Hear him controul the passions of the mind,
As from his Orphan flows the touch refin'd;
Or when, by love subdu'd, the tortur'd brain
Of Jaffier breathes to Belvidere his pain,—
In the fell struggle dooms to death his friend,
Then, rous'd by honor, shares his fatal end.
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Soul-thrilling master of the plaintive strings;
Otway mellifluent—sublimely chaste,
Whose comprehension feeling's soul embrac'd;
Whose touch electric needs no pow'r of art,
But calls imperious on the throbbing heart:
It melts—it owns at once the just appeal,
True as if Shakspear's self had set his seal;
For, when he moans the anguish of the soul,
Not Avon's Bard o'er Otway claims controul;
Matchless in this their kindred spirits stand,
They smile accordance, and go hand in hand.—
Such is the muse I sing:—ah! fatal lay!
Must I with anguish blast its beamy ray?
Shall famine too with poverty combine,
To wrench from earth this offspring of the nine?
Yes; like the bud that's nipp'd by wintry blast,
Behold thy son, O genius! overcast:
He droops his head, unpitied pines for food,
The pangs of hunger curdle life's warm blood;
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Raging, ingulfs the food—is choak'd —and dies.
Here close the scene—mute be the strain of woe,
Let floods of anguish from my bosom flow;
Such pangs acute descriptive arts defy,
Tear follows tear—and sigh re-echoes sigh.
All nature seems a blank:—I drop the pen;
For chaos, to my senses, reigns again.
Let floods of anguish from my bosom flow;
Such pangs acute descriptive arts defy,
Tear follows tear—and sigh re-echoes sigh.
All nature seems a blank:—I drop the pen;
For chaos, to my senses, reigns again.
| Neglected Genius | |