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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ELEGIAC STANZAS TO THE MEMORY OF
Thomas Chatterton.
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 | Neglected Genius |  |
ELEGIAC STANZAS TO THE MEMORY OF Thomas Chatterton.
INGENIS STAT SINE MORTE DECUS.
From thoughts domestic, and from man I turn,
To shed unseen the tributary tear;
To bend the knee to this neglected urn,
And breathe the language of a soul sincere.
To shed unseen the tributary tear;
To bend the knee to this neglected urn,
And breathe the language of a soul sincere.
Farewell to mirth! farewell the festive throng!
And all the transitory joys of life!
Farewell the dance, the soul-enlivening song,
Domestic harmony, ambition's strife!
And all the transitory joys of life!
Farewell the dance, the soul-enlivening song,
Domestic harmony, ambition's strife!
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Farewell to all! for jocund thoughts are fled,
And melancholy now usurps my mind:
Welcome, thou mansion of the peaceful dead,
And welcome moanings of the passing wind!
And melancholy now usurps my mind:
Welcome, thou mansion of the peaceful dead,
And welcome moanings of the passing wind!
More pleasing is thy gloom sad cypress tree,
Than all the chequer'd sweets of lovely May;
More grateful are yon orb's pale beams to me,
Than all the lustre of resplendant day.
Than all the chequer'd sweets of lovely May;
More grateful are yon orb's pale beams to me,
Than all the lustre of resplendant day.
Sleep on, melodious songsters of the grove!
All, save the nightingale, be hush'd in peace:
Fly to the scenes of sweet content and love;
For here your warblings must for ever cease.
All, save the nightingale, be hush'd in peace:
Fly to the scenes of sweet content and love;
For here your warblings must for ever cease.
This hallow'd spot entombs a mind of fire,
For genius lies enshrin'd beneath this stone;
His soaring brain proclaim'd at once his sire,
'Twas bright Apollo stamp'd him for his own.
For genius lies enshrin'd beneath this stone;
His soaring brain proclaim'd at once his sire,
'Twas bright Apollo stamp'd him for his own.
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He travell'd not the trodden path to fame,
But boldly dar'd essay a nobler flight;
Pedantic and malignant souls might blame,
He smil'd contemptuous from the madd'ning height.
But boldly dar'd essay a nobler flight;
Pedantic and malignant souls might blame,
He smil'd contemptuous from the madd'ning height.
What though uncouth the language of his verse?
The monkish phrase his mind could not conceal;
His strains the bold and plaintive could rehearse,
Could wake to energy, or make ye feel.
The monkish phrase his mind could not conceal;
His strains the bold and plaintive could rehearse,
Could wake to energy, or make ye feel.
But dull Bristolians forc'd him thence to roam,
The soil ungenerous he indignant fled;
Hope told him he might elsewhere find an home,
He sought, and found it—with the silent dead.
The soil ungenerous he indignant fled;
Hope told him he might elsewhere find an home,
He sought, and found it—with the silent dead.
O, shame! and in great London's ample space
Was no compassionating bosom found;
No fostering hand, that might his woes efface,
And minister to mis'ry's bleeding wound?
Was no compassionating bosom found;
No fostering hand, that might his woes efface,
And minister to mis'ry's bleeding wound?
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Where slumber'd then the patrons of the great,
The great in genius, not the great in name?
Not one stood forth to snatch him from his fate;
As deaf to pity, as immortal fame.
The great in genius, not the great in name?
Not one stood forth to snatch him from his fate;
As deaf to pity, as immortal fame.
Who boasts the patronage of merit now?
England's Apollo is a golden god;
To Crœsus each sends forth his fervent vow,
To glowing genius senseless as the clod.
England's Apollo is a golden god;
To Crœsus each sends forth his fervent vow,
To glowing genius senseless as the clod.
Methinks I hear some angry tongue exclaim,
Had I but known him, he had not been poor;
'Tis false; for one and all ye are the same,
If living now, you'd thrust him from your door.
Had I but known him, he had not been poor;
'Tis false; for one and all ye are the same,
If living now, you'd thrust him from your door.
Such pageantry of words the poor might give,
Boasting did never yet an impost pay;
But if one wish wou'd bid the suppliant live,
You'd prize its worth, and heedless turn away.
Boasting did never yet an impost pay;
But if one wish wou'd bid the suppliant live,
You'd prize its worth, and heedless turn away.
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Mean despicable soul, which thus can bend,
To proffer bounty, when the beggar's fled;
To ape the manners of a feeling friend,
For him long number'd with the silent dead.
To proffer bounty, when the beggar's fled;
To ape the manners of a feeling friend,
For him long number'd with the silent dead.
No more, sweet youth, thy dulcit song shall sound,
Those tones melodious are for ever mute;
Those chords are crack'd, which erst wou'd vibrate round,
When thy bold hand would strike the trembling lute.
Those tones melodious are for ever mute;
Those chords are crack'd, which erst wou'd vibrate round,
When thy bold hand would strike the trembling lute.
Thy pale and bloodless mien methinks I view,
Thy locks dishevell'd and thy sunken eye;
The morbid tinge, dread death's portending hue,
The unfurl'd banner of fell misery.
Thy locks dishevell'd and thy sunken eye;
The morbid tinge, dread death's portending hue,
The unfurl'd banner of fell misery.
Still to the last, I see thy dauntless look,
The speaking herald of thine innate pride;
The fire of conscious worth, which ne'er forsook
The soul where nature meant it to reside.
The speaking herald of thine innate pride;
The fire of conscious worth, which ne'er forsook
The soul where nature meant it to reside.
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Now at his side stands resolute despair,
She thrusts the goblet in his trembling hand;
Drink, she exclaims, and end thy mortal care,
Drink, and fly far from earth's hard hearted band.
She thrusts the goblet in his trembling hand;
Drink, she exclaims, and end thy mortal care,
Drink, and fly far from earth's hard hearted band.
Poor, friendless, starving, ev'ry woe conspir'd
To prompt the action which might yield relief:
Come, fate, he cried, with agony inspir'd;
And welcom'd death, to terminate his grief.
To prompt the action which might yield relief:
Come, fate, he cried, with agony inspir'd;
And welcom'd death, to terminate his grief.
Cold, senseless marble, still must I complain,
Still on thy surface let my anguish flow;
Still vent the sigh, to ease my bosom's pain,
And waft to thee my heart-oppressing woe.
Still on thy surface let my anguish flow;
Still vent the sigh, to ease my bosom's pain,
And waft to thee my heart-oppressing woe.
Farewell, sweet youth, one bosom still can melt,
Still gaze with anguish, and thy woes deplore;
Still vainly sooth the suff'rings thou hast felt,
Those agonies which thou canst feel no more.
Still gaze with anguish, and thy woes deplore;
Still vainly sooth the suff'rings thou hast felt,
Those agonies which thou canst feel no more.
| Neglected Genius | |