Poems consisting of a tour through parts of North and South Wales, sonnets, odes, and an epistle to a friend on physiognomy. By W. Sotheby |
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| 1. | BOOK THE FIRST. |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
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 | Poems |  |
BOOK THE FIRST.
CONTENTS.
INTRODUCTION.—Encomium on the Beauties of English Landscape. —Description of the Valley, Mountains, and Views round Abergavenny.— Scenery, and Reflections on the Road to Caerfily.—The Castle.—The Vale leading to the Pont-y-prid.—The Bridge.—Ewenny Priory.—The Fairies.—The Fall of Melincourt.—Caraig-cennin—its Cave.—The Vale of Towy.
5
Maria! for thy simple ear I seize
The pastoral reed, with no reluctant lip
At thy command, made vocal. Far from thee
While my lone feet o'er Cambria roam, the Muse
Soothing the way, selected flow'rets wreaths,
An offering for the goddess I adore,
Nature:—Maria! thou art Nature's child;
Be thine the chaplet gather'd for her shrine.
The pastoral reed, with no reluctant lip
At thy command, made vocal. Far from thee
While my lone feet o'er Cambria roam, the Muse
Soothing the way, selected flow'rets wreaths,
An offering for the goddess I adore,
Nature:—Maria! thou art Nature's child;
Be thine the chaplet gather'd for her shrine.
6
As in my lonely pilgrimage succeeds
Each sylvan view, mild, or of grace severe,
That charms with loveliest interchange, I hail
Thee, Albion! favour'd isle. Sublimely rise,
Tow'ring o'er bleak Helvetia, rocks on rocks;
Through the deep vales, in wide expansion, rush
Impetuous streams; and from the mountain brow
Dashes the foaming torrent: O'er thy skies,
Ausonia! suns, without a cloud, diffuse
Rich tints of glowing lustre; and the wreck
Of times remote, fanes and triumphal arcs
Strew thy historic ground; yet not the less,
Albion! o'er thee profusely Nature show'rs
Her gifts; with livelier verdure decks thy soil,
With every mingled charm of hill and dale,
Mountain and mead, hoar cliff, and forest wide;
And thine the ruins, where rapt genius broods
In pensive haunts romantic: rifted tow'rs
That beetling o'er the rock, rear the grey crest
Embattled, and within the secret glade
Conceal'd the abbey's ivy-mantled pile.
Each sylvan view, mild, or of grace severe,
That charms with loveliest interchange, I hail
Thee, Albion! favour'd isle. Sublimely rise,
Tow'ring o'er bleak Helvetia, rocks on rocks;
Through the deep vales, in wide expansion, rush
Impetuous streams; and from the mountain brow
Dashes the foaming torrent: O'er thy skies,
Ausonia! suns, without a cloud, diffuse
Rich tints of glowing lustre; and the wreck
Of times remote, fanes and triumphal arcs
Strew thy historic ground; yet not the less,
Albion! o'er thee profusely Nature show'rs
Her gifts; with livelier verdure decks thy soil,
With every mingled charm of hill and dale,
Mountain and mead, hoar cliff, and forest wide;
And thine the ruins, where rapt genius broods
In pensive haunts romantic: rifted tow'rs
That beetling o'er the rock, rear the grey crest
7
Conceal'd the abbey's ivy-mantled pile.
Here while I wake the reed, beneath the brow
Of the rent Norman tow'r that overhangs
The lucid Uske, th'enamour'd eye pursues
Along th'expanse the undulating line
That Nature loves. Whether with gentle bend
She slopes the vale, or lifts the gradual hill;
Winds the free rivulet, or down the bank
Spreads the wild woods luxuriant growth, or breaks
With interrupting heights the even bound
Of the outstretch'd horizon. Far and wide
Black'ning the plain beneath, proud Blorench low'rs,
Behind whose level length the Western sun
Dips his slope beam: there the opposed Mount
Eastern of craggy Skirid, sacred soil,
Oft trod by pilgrim foot. O'er the smooth swell
Of Derry glide the clouds, that gath'ring hang
Round yon steep brow amid the varied scene
Tow'ring aloft. As gradual up the height,
Of the rough hills ascending, Ceres leads
The patient step of labour, the wide heaths,
Where once the nibbling flock scant herbage cropt,
Wave in the breeze, with golden harvest crown'd.
Of the rent Norman tow'r that overhangs
The lucid Uske, th'enamour'd eye pursues
Along th'expanse the undulating line
That Nature loves. Whether with gentle bend
She slopes the vale, or lifts the gradual hill;
Winds the free rivulet, or down the bank
Spreads the wild woods luxuriant growth, or breaks
With interrupting heights the even bound
Of the outstretch'd horizon. Far and wide
Black'ning the plain beneath, proud Blorench low'rs,
Behind whose level length the Western sun
Dips his slope beam: there the opposed Mount
Eastern of craggy Skirid, sacred soil,
8
Of Derry glide the clouds, that gath'ring hang
Round yon steep brow amid the varied scene
Tow'ring aloft. As gradual up the height,
Of the rough hills ascending, Ceres leads
The patient step of labour, the wide heaths,
Where once the nibbling flock scant herbage cropt,
Wave in the breeze, with golden harvest crown'd.
How various winds the way, changing the view!
In the clear springs that o'er the pebbled road
Glide to the fretted brook that brawls beneath,
The Zephyr wets his wing, and sportive shakes
Drops of refreshing coolness through the air.
In the clear springs that o'er the pebbled road
Glide to the fretted brook that brawls beneath,
The Zephyr wets his wing, and sportive shakes
Drops of refreshing coolness through the air.
As from the fir-clad brow ling'ring I turn,
Ere the lov'd view recedes, to bid the spires
At distance gleaming o'er Uske's hidden vale
A last farewell, the mingled melodies
From bleating mead, swift rill, and vocal wood,
By breath of gentle winds slow wafted, come
In sweet confusion to the charmed ear.
Now the soft murmurs, faint and fainter heard,
Die, while in contrast harsh from yon lone isle,
Loudly, with ceaseless revolution whirl'd,
Bursts the cogg'd wheel, and on the anvil blows,
Falling at measur'd intervals, and oft
More mark'd by casual interruptions, fling
Heavily forth their weight of sound. Soft falls
Upon the dewy earth descending eve,
And onward as I wander, wavering mists
Shadow the face of Nature, and diffuse
The blue thin veil, that half concealing adds
To the dim scene imaginary charms.
Ere the lov'd view recedes, to bid the spires
At distance gleaming o'er Uske's hidden vale
9
From bleating mead, swift rill, and vocal wood,
By breath of gentle winds slow wafted, come
In sweet confusion to the charmed ear.
Now the soft murmurs, faint and fainter heard,
Die, while in contrast harsh from yon lone isle,
Loudly, with ceaseless revolution whirl'd,
Bursts the cogg'd wheel, and on the anvil blows,
Falling at measur'd intervals, and oft
More mark'd by casual interruptions, fling
Heavily forth their weight of sound. Soft falls
Upon the dewy earth descending eve,
And onward as I wander, wavering mists
Shadow the face of Nature, and diffuse
The blue thin veil, that half concealing adds
To the dim scene imaginary charms.
'Tis now the time, when from the narrow world
Withdrawn, and its close fett'ring cares, the mind,
Swift as a prisoner from long bondage scap'd,
Exulting in its liberty, at will
Arrays its wild creation; yet the bard
That roams at eventide, through pathless woods,
His secret way, shapes not ideal scenes
More suited to the pensive range of thought,
Than yonder Castle, 'mid the ruins vast
Lifting its hoary brow. The mellow tints
That time's slow pencil lays from year to year
Upon the ancient tow'rs, spread o'er the wreck
A grateful gloom, and the thick clouds that sweep
Along the darken'd battlements, extend
The melancholy grandeur of the scene.
Hail, solemn wreck! Thou silent hour, belov'd
Of fancy, hail! and thou, that o'er yon hill,
Mild orb, slow rising, with soft radiance gleam'st
Upon the Castle, while each varied shape
Of turret, and nich'd battlement that fronts
The light's full stream, its shadowy image casts
On the retiring walls. As all unseen
I lie reclin'd beneath the hanging tow'r,
That o'er its base projects, doubtful in act
To fall; the stately pile; yon graceful hall,
“Suited for Sewrs and Seneschals,” enchant
The raptur'd spirit: Bold in all the pride
Of feudal strength the castle tow'rs, around
Ring the loud trumpets, and the crowded field
Shouts, while in long procession rang'd, fair dames,
Heralds, and steel-clad knights, and plumed steeds,
Move on in chivalry's emblazon'd pomp.
Withdrawn, and its close fett'ring cares, the mind,
10
Exulting in its liberty, at will
Arrays its wild creation; yet the bard
That roams at eventide, through pathless woods,
His secret way, shapes not ideal scenes
More suited to the pensive range of thought,
Than yonder Castle, 'mid the ruins vast
Lifting its hoary brow. The mellow tints
That time's slow pencil lays from year to year
Upon the ancient tow'rs, spread o'er the wreck
A grateful gloom, and the thick clouds that sweep
Along the darken'd battlements, extend
The melancholy grandeur of the scene.
Hail, solemn wreck! Thou silent hour, belov'd
Of fancy, hail! and thou, that o'er yon hill,
Mild orb, slow rising, with soft radiance gleam'st
Upon the Castle, while each varied shape
Of turret, and nich'd battlement that fronts
11
On the retiring walls. As all unseen
I lie reclin'd beneath the hanging tow'r,
That o'er its base projects, doubtful in act
To fall; the stately pile; yon graceful hall,
“Suited for Sewrs and Seneschals,” enchant
The raptur'd spirit: Bold in all the pride
Of feudal strength the castle tow'rs, around
Ring the loud trumpets, and the crowded field
Shouts, while in long procession rang'd, fair dames,
Heralds, and steel-clad knights, and plumed steeds,
Move on in chivalry's emblazon'd pomp.
Soft was the breath of Eve, and soft the beam
Of the mild Moon, that gleaming on the wreck
Silver'd the Castle's crest: Grateful the hour,
Whose noiseless wings accompanied her course,
Hallow'd of fancy; yet the musing mind,
Oft mid the pensive pleasures that attend
The close of day, with many a mournful thought
Opprest, sad dwells on life's swift passing scene,
And dreams of bliss delusive; but reviv'd
From balmy rest, when at the peep of dawn
The traveller bounds with active spirits light
O'er the fresh meads that round his path diffuse
Fragrance, gay Hope attunes her fairy voice
Delightful, and the heart responsive beats
To the sweet cadence of her syren song.
Thus light at early dawn my footsteps haste
Along the pathway stealing to the vale,
Where, from his mountain source, impetuous, Taaffe
Flings the prone flood: Now the inclosing hills
Advance their brows, now bending back display
The sunny lawns, here bare of foliage, here
Darken'd with woods, that feath'ring fringe the brink
Of the swift river, where the lofty bridge
Bursts on the sight amid the lowly glen,
Like some stupendous work the pilgrim views
Wond'ring, o'er Balbeck's waste, or desert soil
Of Palmyrene. Great architect! illum'd
By nature's light, thy daring genius scorn'd
An imitated grace: No sculptur'd form,
Triton, or Nereid, or wrought River-god,
With meretricious ornament disturb
The simple grandeur of thy bold design.
Impatient of its bondage, twice the flood
Rush'd o'er the ruin'd bridge; again thy hand
Th'indignant torrent yok'd, and rear'd the work
Triumphant, that amid the waves shall stand
Secure, while time, by genius turn'd aside,
Shall spare (long may he spare!) th'unrival'd arch.
Of the mild Moon, that gleaming on the wreck
Silver'd the Castle's crest: Grateful the hour,
Whose noiseless wings accompanied her course,
Hallow'd of fancy; yet the musing mind,
Oft mid the pensive pleasures that attend
12
Opprest, sad dwells on life's swift passing scene,
And dreams of bliss delusive; but reviv'd
From balmy rest, when at the peep of dawn
The traveller bounds with active spirits light
O'er the fresh meads that round his path diffuse
Fragrance, gay Hope attunes her fairy voice
Delightful, and the heart responsive beats
To the sweet cadence of her syren song.
Thus light at early dawn my footsteps haste
Along the pathway stealing to the vale,
Where, from his mountain source, impetuous, Taaffe
Flings the prone flood: Now the inclosing hills
Advance their brows, now bending back display
The sunny lawns, here bare of foliage, here
Darken'd with woods, that feath'ring fringe the brink
Of the swift river, where the lofty bridge
13
Like some stupendous work the pilgrim views
Wond'ring, o'er Balbeck's waste, or desert soil
Of Palmyrene. Great architect! illum'd
By nature's light, thy daring genius scorn'd
An imitated grace: No sculptur'd form,
Triton, or Nereid, or wrought River-god,
With meretricious ornament disturb
The simple grandeur of thy bold design.
Impatient of its bondage, twice the flood
Rush'd o'er the ruin'd bridge; again thy hand
Th'indignant torrent yok'd, and rear'd the work
Triumphant, that amid the waves shall stand
Secure, while time, by genius turn'd aside,
Shall spare (long may he spare!) th'unrival'd arch.
Still as the temper sways, the traveller haunts
Congenial scenes. While in the murky cells
Of old Ewenny, superstition's slave
Starts at the thunder of his lonely tread
Echoed along the vaults, and horrid shapes
Flash on his wilder'd eye; mournful I seek
The desert spot in village records mark'd,
Where oft the Fairies in fantastic dance
Circled the moonlight green. Ye gentle sprites!
Sweet visitants, who watchful o'er the rest
Of infant sleep, wav'd from your blissful wands
Enchanting visions: Ye, in youthful days,
Who led my willing steps from the pure fount
Of Castaly, and woods of Greece ador'd,
By fawn and dryad trod, to list the song
Breath'd by the native genius of the isle,
Sweet Fays! o'er your forsaken shrine I heave
A farewell sigh, as this memorial lay
Guides the lone stranger 'mid the dreary waste.
Congenial scenes. While in the murky cells
Of old Ewenny, superstition's slave
14
Echoed along the vaults, and horrid shapes
Flash on his wilder'd eye; mournful I seek
The desert spot in village records mark'd,
Where oft the Fairies in fantastic dance
Circled the moonlight green. Ye gentle sprites!
Sweet visitants, who watchful o'er the rest
Of infant sleep, wav'd from your blissful wands
Enchanting visions: Ye, in youthful days,
Who led my willing steps from the pure fount
Of Castaly, and woods of Greece ador'd,
By fawn and dryad trod, to list the song
Breath'd by the native genius of the isle,
Sweet Fays! o'er your forsaken shrine I heave
A farewell sigh, as this memorial lay
Guides the lone stranger 'mid the dreary waste.
By the rent arch, that o'er yon billowy heap
Of sand, sad tow'rs, the melancholy wreck
Of old Fitzhammon's glory, where the brook
With slow pace winds along the matted weeds,
Three springs into a narrow circle pour
Their bubbling rills; the current once renown'd
Lur'd to the hallow'd fount the village swains:
Three fairies on the verdant margin sat,
And kindly mingled in the suff'rer's cup
The drops of health: The tender bud of spring
There earliest bloom'd, and autumn's ling'ring flow'r
There shed its latest sweets, while many a wreath
Hung votive o'er the consecrated fane:
Now nettles and rude thistles thicken round,
And not a wild flow'r peeps along the waste.
Much musing on the dreams that charm'd my youth,
Far from Neath's mart tumultuous, and the scenes
Where nature mourns, while from the molten ore
Sulphureous blasts, that dim the noon-day sun,
Load the infected gale, lur'd by the fall
Of the far flood, through pathless glens I roam,
Where Melincourt's loud echoing crags resound.
Not bolder views Salvator's pencil dash'd
In Alpine wilds romantic. Far descry'd
Through the deep windings of the gloomy way,
The hoar Cledaugh, swoln by autumnal storms,
Down the precipitous rock's declivity
Curves the hurl'd cataract, and on the stones
Rent from th'o'er-hanging mass prone rushing, flings
The shiver'd spray around. Here could I muse
The livelong day, and wand'ring down the dell,
Along the grassy margin trace the stream
Meand'ring; now confin'd from crag to crag,
Where bursts the headlong flood, or widely spread
Mid the broad channel, where th'undimpled wave
Bathing the wild flow'rs-bending o'er the brink
Glides silent by; and ever and anon
As gently, borne by interrupted gales,
Murmur'd the distant torrent, would I catch
The sounds that echo from her secret cave
Responsive breath'd. Vain the fond wish! Rent clouds
Drench the chill limbs, and the rack'd temples throb,
Pain'd with the raging torrent's ceaseless roar.
Reluctantly with ling'ring step I leave
Thy haunts, wild Melincourt! but memory long
Shall dwell upon thy charms, and long shall rush,
Cledaugh, thy water-fall on fancy's ear.
Of sand, sad tow'rs, the melancholy wreck
15
With slow pace winds along the matted weeds,
Three springs into a narrow circle pour
Their bubbling rills; the current once renown'd
Lur'd to the hallow'd fount the village swains:
Three fairies on the verdant margin sat,
And kindly mingled in the suff'rer's cup
The drops of health: The tender bud of spring
There earliest bloom'd, and autumn's ling'ring flow'r
There shed its latest sweets, while many a wreath
Hung votive o'er the consecrated fane:
Now nettles and rude thistles thicken round,
And not a wild flow'r peeps along the waste.
Much musing on the dreams that charm'd my youth,
Far from Neath's mart tumultuous, and the scenes
Where nature mourns, while from the molten ore
Sulphureous blasts, that dim the noon-day sun,
Load the infected gale, lur'd by the fall
Of the far flood, through pathless glens I roam,
16
Not bolder views Salvator's pencil dash'd
In Alpine wilds romantic. Far descry'd
Through the deep windings of the gloomy way,
The hoar Cledaugh, swoln by autumnal storms,
Down the precipitous rock's declivity
Curves the hurl'd cataract, and on the stones
Rent from th'o'er-hanging mass prone rushing, flings
The shiver'd spray around. Here could I muse
The livelong day, and wand'ring down the dell,
Along the grassy margin trace the stream
Meand'ring; now confin'd from crag to crag,
Where bursts the headlong flood, or widely spread
Mid the broad channel, where th'undimpled wave
Bathing the wild flow'rs-bending o'er the brink
Glides silent by; and ever and anon
As gently, borne by interrupted gales,
Murmur'd the distant torrent, would I catch
The sounds that echo from her secret cave
17
Drench the chill limbs, and the rack'd temples throb,
Pain'd with the raging torrent's ceaseless roar.
Reluctantly with ling'ring step I leave
Thy haunts, wild Melincourt! but memory long
Shall dwell upon thy charms, and long shall rush,
Cledaugh, thy water-fall on fancy's ear.
Bold on the summit of the mountain brow
Frowns many a hoary tow'r, where Cambria's chiefs
Waving the banner'd dragon dar'd to arms
The Norman host. Breathing his native strains,
There the descendant of the British bards,
Hoel, or lofty Taliessin, oft
At the dim twilight hour in pensive mood,
Amid the silent hall o'ergrown with bryars,
Recalls the festivals of old, when blaz'd
The giant oak, and chieftains crown'd with mead
The sculptur'd horn, while the high vaulted roof
Re-echo'd to the honour'd minstrel's harp.
Frowns many a hoary tow'r, where Cambria's chiefs
Waving the banner'd dragon dar'd to arms
The Norman host. Breathing his native strains,
There the descendant of the British bards,
Hoel, or lofty Taliessin, oft
At the dim twilight hour in pensive mood,
Amid the silent hall o'ergrown with bryars,
Recalls the festivals of old, when blaz'd
The giant oak, and chieftains crown'd with mead
The sculptur'd horn, while the high vaulted roof
Re-echo'd to the honour'd minstrel's harp.
18
O'er yonder crag, steep, lonely, wild, impends
The ruin'd fortress, like th'aërial shape
Of battlement or broken citadel,
That when at eve autumnal gales arise,
Crowns the grey fleeces of the floating clouds.
Stranger! beneath yon tow'r a vaulted path
Down the steep mountain leads; with flaming torch
Amid the windings of the cliff descend,
Where, in its deep recess, the hollow'd rock
Catches the gather'd damps, that drop by drop
Fall through the porous stone. Gilt by the blaze,
The radiant cave, the dews that gem the roof
Shedding around from long pellucid points
The mimic diamonds, veins of sparry ore,
That glittering down the arches' crystal sides
Their interlacing fret-work weave, renew
The visionary scenes to childhood dear,
Of subterranean palaces, the haunts
Of Genii brooding o'er their secret wealth.
Fantastic dreams! delight of Eastern bards,
Persic, or those of Araby! Oh haste,
Fly the enchanting fount! nor stoop to cool
Thy languid lip with the enticing draught
Of the chill wave; the unsun'd spring, more fell
Than cup Circean, shall infect thy blood:
Go where the gale with odoriferous breath,
Blows o'er the flow'rs that bloom on Towy's banks.
Where shall I guide thy foot, where fix thy gaze,
That wanders lost along the lengthening meads?
Not lovelier that muse-haunted vale renown'd
Thessalian Tempe. O'er the sunny lawns
The scatter'd groves of graceful foliage bloom,
Mingling with sweet variety: The hills
Sink softly melting to the plain beneath,
Lost gradual in its level, as the stream
That glides into the bosom of the sea:
High low'r the wilder steeps, darken'd with oaks
Majestic, as bold nature unconfin'd
Spreads in his forest range; and at the base
Of yon wood-waving cliff, where the proud wreck
Of ancient Dinevawr sublimely lifts
Its ivied battlements, swift Towy winds
Voluminous, in many a lucid fold
Wildly meand'ring; while beyond arise
The verdant heights that guard the shelter'd vale,
And fade away, dim'd by the distant clouds.
The ruin'd fortress, like th'aërial shape
Of battlement or broken citadel,
That when at eve autumnal gales arise,
Crowns the grey fleeces of the floating clouds.
Stranger! beneath yon tow'r a vaulted path
Down the steep mountain leads; with flaming torch
Amid the windings of the cliff descend,
Where, in its deep recess, the hollow'd rock
Catches the gather'd damps, that drop by drop
Fall through the porous stone. Gilt by the blaze,
The radiant cave, the dews that gem the roof
Shedding around from long pellucid points
The mimic diamonds, veins of sparry ore,
That glittering down the arches' crystal sides
Their interlacing fret-work weave, renew
The visionary scenes to childhood dear,
19
Of Genii brooding o'er their secret wealth.
Fantastic dreams! delight of Eastern bards,
Persic, or those of Araby! Oh haste,
Fly the enchanting fount! nor stoop to cool
Thy languid lip with the enticing draught
Of the chill wave; the unsun'd spring, more fell
Than cup Circean, shall infect thy blood:
Go where the gale with odoriferous breath,
Blows o'er the flow'rs that bloom on Towy's banks.
Where shall I guide thy foot, where fix thy gaze,
That wanders lost along the lengthening meads?
Not lovelier that muse-haunted vale renown'd
Thessalian Tempe. O'er the sunny lawns
The scatter'd groves of graceful foliage bloom,
Mingling with sweet variety: The hills
Sink softly melting to the plain beneath,
Lost gradual in its level, as the stream
That glides into the bosom of the sea:
20
Majestic, as bold nature unconfin'd
Spreads in his forest range; and at the base
Of yon wood-waving cliff, where the proud wreck
Of ancient Dinevawr sublimely lifts
Its ivied battlements, swift Towy winds
Voluminous, in many a lucid fold
Wildly meand'ring; while beyond arise
The verdant heights that guard the shelter'd vale,
And fade away, dim'd by the distant clouds.
The Fissures in this mountain are supposed, by the superstition of the Roman Catholics, to have been caused by the convulsion of nature on the Crucifixion.
| Poems | |