The Petition of An Old Uninhabited House in Penzance to its Master in Town With Hints to the Author of John Bull, A Comedy. To which is added an Appendix. Embellished with a View of the Old House. Second Edition [by C. V. Le Grice] |
 |
|
| APPENDIX. |
 | The Petition of An Old Uninhabited House in Penzance to its Master in Town |  |
33
APPENDIX.
LINES ADDRESSED TO AN OLD PLEASURE HOUSE.
And thou wert built with promise fair
Of many a happy day;
And breathings sweet of balmy air,
And fields in liv'ry gay,
Of many a happy day;
And breathings sweet of balmy air,
And fields in liv'ry gay,
And murmurings of rippling streams,
And buds and blossoms filling
Accorded to the lightsome dreams,
With which the heart was thrilling,
And buds and blossoms filling
Accorded to the lightsome dreams,
With which the heart was thrilling,
That rear'd thy roof.—But where are fled
The joys in fancy's eye?
Wild moss along thy path is spread,
And ruins moulder nigh.
The joys in fancy's eye?
Wild moss along thy path is spread,
And ruins moulder nigh.
Oh! let not from thy weed-clad cell
One leaf removed be;
Where Melancholy's wont to dwell,
Is Pleasure's house to me.
One leaf removed be;
Where Melancholy's wont to dwell,
Is Pleasure's house to me.
34
A DUET
Written for Mr. Randles, and his amiable little Daughter the Musical Prodigy; whose abilities were her Father's support. She exhibited her talents at Penzance, June 5th, 1807.
DAUGHTER.
Say, Father, why the trickling tears
Fall fast adown thy cheek;
O! ease a daughter's trembling fears,
And all thy sorrows speak.
What tho' the orb, that gilds the sky,
Be hidden from thy sight,
Thy daughter and thy Page am I
To guide thee thro' thy night.
Fall fast adown thy cheek;
O! ease a daughter's trembling fears,
And all thy sorrows speak.
What tho' the orb, that gilds the sky,
Be hidden from thy sight,
Thy daughter and thy Page am I
To guide thee thro' thy night.
FATHER.
My tears are not the tears of woe;
I know no bosom grief;
In gushing transport forth they flow,
Rapt ecstacy's relief:
Thy angel-skill and angel-love,
Boons for my blindness given,
Awake my thoughts to realms above,
And make my darkness Heaven.
I know no bosom grief;
In gushing transport forth they flow,
Rapt ecstacy's relief:
Thy angel-skill and angel-love,
Boons for my blindness given,
Awake my thoughts to realms above,
And make my darkness Heaven.
35
LINES
Written for a Fete at Penzance, given in celebration of the Princess Charlotte's Birthday, A.D. 1814.
In choral bands, ye festive throng,
Weave the gay dance, and raise the song,
Fill high the circulating glass,
And bid the “electric ruby” pass!—
Hush'd is each boding fear of ill,
The anxious sigh of Care is still;
Present is the promised pleasure,
Circling Suns have filled their measure,
And blest is Albion in the happy hour,
Which marks the blooming of Her fairest Flower.
Weave the gay dance, and raise the song,
Fill high the circulating glass,
And bid the “electric ruby” pass!—
Hush'd is each boding fear of ill,
The anxious sigh of Care is still;
Present is the promised pleasure,
Circling Suns have filled their measure,
And blest is Albion in the happy hour,
Which marks the blooming of Her fairest Flower.
Hail the Day! a date of glory!
Hail the Maid, whose future story
Shall rival great Eliza's name,
And mingle with an Anna's fame.
The diadem's imperial rays,
The emerald's green, and sapphire's blaze
Are wont with purer light to glow,
When radiant from a Woman's brow;
The dove-wing'd Sceptre claims an holier sway,
And proud Submission triumphs to obey.
Hail the Maid, whose future story
Shall rival great Eliza's name,
And mingle with an Anna's fame.
The diadem's imperial rays,
The emerald's green, and sapphire's blaze
Are wont with purer light to glow,
When radiant from a Woman's brow;
The dove-wing'd Sceptre claims an holier sway,
And proud Submission triumphs to obey.
36
For, waiting Beauty's soft command,
Love, Awe, and Admiration stand;
Sweet influence the Graces shower,
And Virtue owns a Sister Power;
While Chivalry his gauntlet throws
In challenge vain for inmate foes,
And calls on Peace with sweet employ
Thro' cottaged vales to tune her joy;
Or, if the foreign trump of War he hear,
Uplifts his shield, and points his guardian spear.
Love, Awe, and Admiration stand;
Sweet influence the Graces shower,
And Virtue owns a Sister Power;
While Chivalry his gauntlet throws
In challenge vain for inmate foes,
And calls on Peace with sweet employ
Thro' cottaged vales to tune her joy;
Or, if the foreign trump of War he hear,
Uplifts his shield, and points his guardian spear.
So bright, O Charlotte, are the views,
Which burst on the prophetic Muse.—
Windsor, thy forest's mighty shade
Shall ne'er embower so fair a Maid,
Until—(and every Briton's prayer
Breathes wishes for the future Pair)
Until of Her high-dower'd love
United bliss the union prove,
And give th' admiring world renewed to see
Our Charlotte's virtues in Her progeny.
Which burst on the prophetic Muse.—
Windsor, thy forest's mighty shade
Shall ne'er embower so fair a Maid,
Until—(and every Briton's prayer
Breathes wishes for the future Pair)
Until of Her high-dower'd love
United bliss the union prove,
And give th' admiring world renewed to see
Our Charlotte's virtues in Her progeny.
37
INSCRIPTION FOR LANYON CROMLECH IN ITS FALLEN STATE.
And Thou at last art fall'n: Thou, who hast seenThe storms and calms of twice ten hundred years.
The naked Briton here has paused to gaze
Upon thy pond'rous mass, ere bells were chimed,
Or the throng'd hamlet smok'd with social fires.
Whilst thou hast here repos'd, what numerous tribes,
That breath'd the breath of life, have pass'd away.—
What wond'rous changes in th' affairs of men!
Their proudest cities lowly ruins made;
Battles, and sieges, empires lost and won;
Whilst thou hast stood upon the silent hill
A lonely monument of times that were.—
Lie, where thou art. Let no rude hand remove,
Or spoil thee; for the spot is consecrate
To thee, and Thou to it: and as the heart
Aching with thoughts of human littleness
Asks, without hope of knowing, whose the strength
That poised thee here; so ages yet unborn
(O! humbling, humbling thought!) may vainly seek,
What were the race of men, that saw thee fall.
This fine Cromlech, perhaps the noblest specimen of the kind, fell down in the night of October the 19th, 1816, when the Delhi was wrecked in the tremendous storm near Saint Michael's Mount.
38
SONNET ON CUTTING DOWN AN OLD ARBOUR.
With desolating stroke the woodman's bladeHath hewn thy bough-wove arches to the ground:
No more within the chequers of thy shade
The warblings of the nestled thrush resound.
No more from sultry noon shall here retire
Friendship and home-nurs'd Love, in union sweet,
To Summer's change for Winter's social fire,
The quiet converse of thy hush'd retreat.—
Thy joys are strewn like scatter'd leaves; away
They're swept from light and memory; and they,
Who o'er thy fate in sad repining stand,
As those who erst enjoy'd thy shade,—shall all
Like thy torn shatter'd branches with'ring fall
Beneath the scythe of Time's unsparing hand.
39
WOODCOCK SHOOTING:
Composed at intervals between the Shots on a Shooting Party, at Trye in Gulval, Oct. 21st, 1817.
Pale was the moon and radiant was the star
In the clear forehead of the morning sky;
Elate of heart we mount the rapid car
To bear our thunders to the groves of Trye.
In the clear forehead of the morning sky;
Elate of heart we mount the rapid car
To bear our thunders to the groves of Trye.
A thousand varied tints adorn the trees,
Beneath the brakes the rills run babbling by,
The branches gently rustle to the breeze,
Bright bursts the Sun, and all is harmony.
Beneath the brakes the rills run babbling by,
The branches gently rustle to the breeze,
Bright bursts the Sun, and all is harmony.
With mark! mark! mark! the echoing valley rings,
From hill to hill the Marker shrilly calls;
On winnowing wing the hunted Woodcock springs;
The tube is levell'd, and the victim falls.
From hill to hill the Marker shrilly calls;
On winnowing wing the hunted Woodcock springs;
The tube is levell'd, and the victim falls.
Another, and another springs, and dies.
The busy spaniel is the sportsman's clue:
The Marker halloos, and the gun replies:
The game is flush'd, and Health and Joy pursue.
The busy spaniel is the sportsman's clue:
The Marker halloos, and the gun replies:
The game is flush'd, and Health and Joy pursue.
Onward we follow. Onward still, and on:
Nor wood, nor mountain stop our eager way:
'Twas darkness ere we knew the morn was gone.
—This was a Holiday.
Nor wood, nor mountain stop our eager way:
'Twas darkness ere we knew the morn was gone.
—This was a Holiday.
40
SONNET
(Written November, 1814,)
TO AN OLD NEWS ROOM AT PENZANCE, Established A.D. 1799.
Hail to thy walls, Old Room.-While through the world
The Demon of destruction has unfurled
His bloody banners, 'mid the death-fraught storm
Shelter'd in thy recess, secure and warm,
Three lustres we have pass'd; and here have known
No other grief, and heard no other moan
Than tales of mourning move. The scene is o'er;—
And He, chief Actor in the deeds of blood, a poor
Self-banish'd Exile. As in the Scenic glass
We, safe Spectators, saw the Drama pass,—
The curtain fall.—And what doth Time prepare?
Calm halcyon days, or shall the wild waves beat
With renovated rage?—Whatever share
Of Life be ours, be ours the same Retreat.
The Demon of destruction has unfurled
His bloody banners, 'mid the death-fraught storm
Shelter'd in thy recess, secure and warm,
Three lustres we have pass'd; and here have known
No other grief, and heard no other moan
Than tales of mourning move. The scene is o'er;—
And He, chief Actor in the deeds of blood, a poor
Self-banish'd Exile. As in the Scenic glass
We, safe Spectators, saw the Drama pass,—
The curtain fall.—And what doth Time prepare?
Calm halcyon days, or shall the wild waves beat
With renovated rage?—Whatever share
Of Life be ours, be ours the same Retreat.
AN ORIGINAL MEMBER.
41
[_]
At the Hotel near the Land's End the Landlord had provided a Book intended as an Album, and had placed the following address to his Guests in a conspicuous part of his Dining Room.—We have selected one specimen from the many which are inserted, some of them very pleasing: but sorry are we to relate that the Book has been woefully abused, and is any thing but an Album.
Hunc tu Romane cavetoHic niger est.
A new Book is provided, Editio purgata in usum Musarum, with the following locally appropriate motto “husteron proteron” for a translation of which Ecce Signum!—
42
THE LANDLORD'S ADDRESS TO HIS GUESTS, AT THE LAND'S END HOTEL.
Ladies and Gents I do intreat,
While here you're met to drink and eat,
And while the kettle's boiling,
My windows, ceiling, and my walls
With pencil markings and with scrawls
That you will not be spoiling.
While here you're met to drink and eat,
And while the kettle's boiling,
My windows, ceiling, and my walls
With pencil markings and with scrawls
That you will not be spoiling.
The name of hero, beau, or lass,
If written on the brittle glass
May in a moment vanish;
And from the ceiling of my room
Dame Lethe with her white-wash broom
May very quickly banish.
If written on the brittle glass
May in a moment vanish;
And from the ceiling of my room
Dame Lethe with her white-wash broom
May very quickly banish.
For immortality a nook
The pages of this little book
Present you in a minute;
Then to the first and last Hotel
Before your first and last farewell
Pray write your names within it.
The pages of this little book
Present you in a minute;
Then to the first and last Hotel
Before your first and last farewell
Pray write your names within it.
43
SONNET
(Written in the Album, Oct. 25th, 1819),
TO VISITORS AT THE LAND'S END.
Stranger! when on the promontory's browOf old Bolerium o'er the surge below
You muse with dizzy gaze; and, when again
You turn to mingle in the haunts of men,
What are your thoughts? Amid the mighty scene
Of Nature's temple are they hushed, serene,
Soothed to a sabbath stilness? Or, while play
The gentle Zephyrs on their softest wing,
With ladies fair and blithe companions gay
Do you indulge in mirth and revelling?
Pause on your Country's bourn: and, as a day
So won from other yet revolving years
May ne'er return, or marked by smiles or tears
Embalm it here by some poetic lay.
| The Petition of An Old Uninhabited House in Penzance to its Master in Town | |