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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Invocation to Genius.
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Invocation to Genius.
------PICTORIBUS ATQUE POETIS
QUIDLIBET AUDENDI SEMPER FUIT ÆQUA POTESTAS.
QUIDLIBET AUDENDI SEMPER FUIT ÆQUA POTESTAS.
Shades of departed genius nerve the brain,
And thou, fell indignation, quench my pain.
No hackney'd theme awakes the muse's ire,
No common griefs my bleeding soul inspire;—
I sing neglected worth, I mourn the doom
Of genius slumb'ring in the silent tomb:
I weep the sons of fire—Apollo's race,
And blush to own my country's dire disgrace:
Say, Britons, where was then your boasted pride?
Though merit pin'd, your succour was denied;
You mark'd cadav'rous famine's squalid frame
Blast the bright impulse of the sons of fame;
Unmov'd you saw stern mis'ry's iron hand
Wrench struggling worth from freedom's vaunted land;
Nor did one lib'ral mind afford relief,
To chase wan poverty and dew-eyed grief.
O! shame, my countrymen, is this the earth
That nurtures charity of heav'nly birth;
Is such the spirit proud Britannia fir'd,
When fancy's offspring famishing expir'd?
Yes; such (heart-rending thought) has been her stain,
Has been!—(sad truth:)—and shall be o'er again.
Ah! that my verse possess'd resistless sway,
And like the salutary beams of day,
Which wide diffuse a soul-inspiring light,
Cou'd chase from mental realms the clouds of night;
Absorb that fell obduracy, which shows
The bosom callous to the poet's woes.
Yet vain the hope, no radiance I possess,
To melt the heart, and succour keen distress;
The task is mine to paint starv'd genius fled,
Enkindling shame where feeling's voice is dead.
Yet shou'd one spirit, blushing, own the plea,
And succour merit nipp'd by penury;
Shou'd I with inspiration fire one breast,
To pilot sorrow to the port of rest;
At pity's voice, shou'd mundane tempests cease,
And lull life's bark in haven of sweet peace;
For such reward, attendant on her lays,
Her voice the muse exulting loud shall raise;
While beamy hope will paint some halcyon time,
When joys reward the fervid sons of rhyme,
As justice, rearing high her even scale,
Shall scarf past anguish in oblivion's veil.
And thou, fell indignation, quench my pain.
No hackney'd theme awakes the muse's ire,
No common griefs my bleeding soul inspire;—
I sing neglected worth, I mourn the doom
Of genius slumb'ring in the silent tomb:
I weep the sons of fire—Apollo's race,
And blush to own my country's dire disgrace:
Say, Britons, where was then your boasted pride?
Though merit pin'd, your succour was denied;
You mark'd cadav'rous famine's squalid frame
Blast the bright impulse of the sons of fame;
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Wrench struggling worth from freedom's vaunted land;
Nor did one lib'ral mind afford relief,
To chase wan poverty and dew-eyed grief.
O! shame, my countrymen, is this the earth
That nurtures charity of heav'nly birth;
Is such the spirit proud Britannia fir'd,
When fancy's offspring famishing expir'd?
Yes; such (heart-rending thought) has been her stain,
Has been!—(sad truth:)—and shall be o'er again.
Ah! that my verse possess'd resistless sway,
And like the salutary beams of day,
Which wide diffuse a soul-inspiring light,
Cou'd chase from mental realms the clouds of night;
Absorb that fell obduracy, which shows
The bosom callous to the poet's woes.
Yet vain the hope, no radiance I possess,
To melt the heart, and succour keen distress;
The task is mine to paint starv'd genius fled,
Enkindling shame where feeling's voice is dead.
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And succour merit nipp'd by penury;
Shou'd I with inspiration fire one breast,
To pilot sorrow to the port of rest;
At pity's voice, shou'd mundane tempests cease,
And lull life's bark in haven of sweet peace;
For such reward, attendant on her lays,
Her voice the muse exulting loud shall raise;
While beamy hope will paint some halcyon time,
When joys reward the fervid sons of rhyme,
As justice, rearing high her even scale,
Shall scarf past anguish in oblivion's veil.
Come, blissful period, with celestial guise,
Show youth all purity and age all wise;
Restore those golden times the muse hath sung,
When Hybla's honey dropp'd from ev'ry tongue;
As thro' the reed mellifluent pour'd the strain,
Each bard a shepherd of Arcadia's plain:
Presumptive fancy, check thine airy course,
Abandon metaphor, give truth full force;
Forget that golden age thou ne'er canst find,
Meet nature as it is, with iron mind;
Apply the goading spur;—a lash of steel,
Will ne'er make wince the heart that cannot feel.
Show youth all purity and age all wise;
Restore those golden times the muse hath sung,
When Hybla's honey dropp'd from ev'ry tongue;
As thro' the reed mellifluent pour'd the strain,
Each bard a shepherd of Arcadia's plain:
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Abandon metaphor, give truth full force;
Forget that golden age thou ne'er canst find,
Meet nature as it is, with iron mind;
Apply the goading spur;—a lash of steel,
Will ne'er make wince the heart that cannot feel.
| Neglected Genius | |