The peripatetic or, Sketches of the heart, of nature and society; In a series of politico-sentimental journals, in verse and prose, of the eccentric excursions of Sylvanus Theophrastus; Supposed to be written by himself [by John Thelwall] |
 | [I]. |
 | II. |
[Let raging tyrants, with malignant pride] |
| III. |
 | The peripatetic |  |
99
[Let raging tyrants, with malignant pride]
Let raging tyrants, with malignant pride,
Display their talents in the public scene,
In glittering arms o'er groaning myriads ride,
And drench with purple guilt the peaceful green.
Display their talents in the public scene,
In glittering arms o'er groaning myriads ride,
And drench with purple guilt the peaceful green.
Let them, still jealous of imagin'd rights,
Sound the dire clarion, spread the clouds of war,
To rouse their frantic slaves, and quench the lights
Of Reason's sun, and Freedom's polar star.
Sound the dire clarion, spread the clouds of war,
To rouse their frantic slaves, and quench the lights
Of Reason's sun, and Freedom's polar star.
100
Let senseless crowds, assembled at their nod,
Smit with strange hate of Liberty! arise;
To humbled Pride restore Oppression's rod,
And lift the fallen Idol to the skies.
Smit with strange hate of Liberty! arise;
To humbled Pride restore Oppression's rod,
And lift the fallen Idol to the skies.
Let them, enamour'd of the galling yoke,
Rush on to death; and orphans, widows leave
The chains they purchas'd with their blood to brook;
To toil rewardless, and unpitied grieve.
Rush on to death; and orphans, widows leave
The chains they purchas'd with their blood to brook;
To toil rewardless, and unpitied grieve.
Let them (for, why, when monarchs give command,
Should Sense or Virtue check the vassal's zeal?)
Against their Guardians lift the furious hand,
And in their Champions' bosoms plunge the steel.
Should Sense or Virtue check the vassal's zeal?)
Against their Guardians lift the furious hand,
And in their Champions' bosoms plunge the steel.
We—we, my friend, while such mad passions reign,
Such servile folly rules the bustling crew,
Will fly, indignant, from the thankless train,
And leave the ingrates their ruin to pursue.
Such servile folly rules the bustling crew,
Will fly, indignant, from the thankless train,
And leave the ingrates their ruin to pursue.
Oh! better far, within some cloister's gloom,
Some forests shade, or cavern's lone retreat,
To waste in sullen sighs our youthful bloom,
And each sad sun with pining sorrow greet;
Some forests shade, or cavern's lone retreat,
To waste in sullen sighs our youthful bloom,
And each sad sun with pining sorrow greet;
Better, forswearing Nature's genuine right,
Withdrawn for ever from her social law,
To live entomb'd, and bid eternal Night
Round the lone head her sullen curtain draw;
Withdrawn for ever from her social law,
To live entomb'd, and bid eternal Night
Round the lone head her sullen curtain draw;
Better than mingling in such scenes as these,
To aid the fiend Destruction's raging hand,
See her fell gripe each Public Virtue seize,
And scourge fair Freedom from each groaning Land!
To aid the fiend Destruction's raging hand,
See her fell gripe each Public Virtue seize,
And scourge fair Freedom from each groaning Land!
101
Ah! better far, forgetting and forgot,
Sequester'd, to the peaceful grave to glide,
From Fortune's wheel withdraw our anxious lot,
And crimes we can't prevent, at least avoid.
Sequester'd, to the peaceful grave to glide,
From Fortune's wheel withdraw our anxious lot,
And crimes we can't prevent, at least avoid.
Then, Belmour, come! together let us stray,
And seek some hermit's deep embower'd retreat;
Tune for each other's ear the mournful lay,
And all the anguish of our souls repeat.
And seek some hermit's deep embower'd retreat;
Tune for each other's ear the mournful lay,
And all the anguish of our souls repeat.
Thy tender woes from out her secret bower,
To sweet response shall wooe the bird of eve:
But mine, more loud, shall, at the midnight hour,
Wake the shrill echoes; teach the rocks to grieve;
The woods, the vales, the mountains to reply,
And Nature's self to join the deep-drawn sight
To sweet response shall wooe the bird of eve:
But mine, more loud, shall, at the midnight hour,
Wake the shrill echoes; teach the rocks to grieve;
The woods, the vales, the mountains to reply,
And Nature's self to join the deep-drawn sight
For, oh! I mourn for worlds!—for myriads mourn
Still doom'd in bonds and wretchedness to sigh!—
Against themselves the sharpen'd steel who turn,
And forge the fetters which they should destroy.
Still doom'd in bonds and wretchedness to sigh!—
Against themselves the sharpen'd steel who turn,
And forge the fetters which they should destroy.
And shalt thou, Freedom (oh! my boding soul!)
In the stern grasp of Tyranny expire?
While conquering Despots rage without control,
And Superstition round thy funeral pyre
Exulting smiles, and sees, with savage pride,
Each hope of human happiness destroy'd!
In the stern grasp of Tyranny expire?
While conquering Despots rage without control,
And Superstition round thy funeral pyre
Exulting smiles, and sees, with savage pride,
Each hope of human happiness destroy'd!
| The peripatetic | |