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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Edmund Spenser.
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Edmund Spenser.
SIC ITUR AD ADSTRA.
Come forth, great Spenser, thou shalt lead the van,
In whom the muses deified the man;
Thy Kalender the gentle theme retails
Of loving shepherds in their peaceful vales,
Whose dulcet notes the fair one's beauties praise,
As round the swains their fleecy wand'rers graze;
While pristine innocence and homely worth,
Shine the true types of sterling bliss on earth.
But if we soar with Edmund from this scene
Of simple bliss, and view his Fairy Queen;
Trace all the mazes of exub'rance wild,
And view at once fond fancy's darling child:
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So short the space with such expansion fraught:
Mark but the transient lapse from Chaucer's time,
That first great father of his country's rhyme,
Who dar'd discard the Norman's galling chain,
And give the English tongue unfetter'd reign:
From mighty Geoffrey's day, the muse lay mute;
Till noble Surry tun'd Italia's lute;
In tend'rest sonnets breath'd his bosom's pain,
And sainted Geraldine at love's bright fane.
Ill-fated youth, a jealous despot's rage,
With bloody signet, clos'd thy loving page:
The tyrant robb'd thee of thine earthly part,
And gorg'd the axe;—true emblem of his heart.
Surry now mute;—farewell the poet's song,
No minstrel join'd the bigot Mary's throng;
Heywood alone his Spider's web entwin'd,
To prove the Papist's subtilty refin'd;—
Champion of bigotry, whose numbers paint
Each son of Papedom canoniz'd a saint;
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And dooms all sectaries the fiends of hell.
Such was the road to high Parnassus' fount,
The madd'ning steep bold Spenser dar'd surmount;
Before his muse all competition fled,
E'en envy slunk abash'd, and droop'd her head;
He stood the muse's rock of Albion's plain,
The fire-fraught genius of Eliza's reign.
Arcadian Sidney first his worth confess'd,
And stood forth patron of the bard distress'd;
Made smooth the rugged path to high support,
And led him, shrinking, to a brilliant court.
Suppliant he own'd the sov'reign's dread renown,
And lowly bent before a maiden's crown:
That subtle queen, whose policy could melt,
And own the pathos mighty Spenser felt.
Amaz'd the sov'reign listen'd to his lays,
And season'd with reward the well earn'd praise;
The sordid statesman heard unmov'd the theme,
No verse to him so bright as Crœsus' beam.
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Till Edmund's wit procur'd the poet's due.
Yet, tho' the beams of courtly favor shone,
His closing life distress was doom'd to moan;
Robb'd of those gifts Hibernia's chief bestow'd,
Of lands bereav'd, and forc'd from calm abode;
His lot was penury, and London found
His last estate—the grave—in hallow'd ground;
Thus Edmund suffer'd, thus his spirit sigh'd;
So droop'd bright genius—so the poet died.
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