Sermons Practical and Occasional Dissertations, Translations, Including New Versions of Virgil's Bucolica, and of Milton's Defensio Secunda, Seaton Poems, &c. &c. By the Rev. Francis Wrangham ... In Three Volumes |
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 | Sermons Practical and Occasional |  |
SMALLER POEMS, &c.
Καρδιας ποικιλμαθ'.
(Tweddell, Prolus. viii.)
Jucundum cùm ætas florida ver ageret,
Multa satis lusi: non est Dea nescia nostrî,
Quæ dulcem curis miscet amaritiem.
(Catull. Ixvi. 15.)
[Father of All!]
In every clime adored;
By saint, by savage, and by sage;
Jehovah, Jove, or Lord!
Who all my sense confined
To know but this, that Thou art good,
And that myself am blind:
To know the good from ill;
And binding nature fast in fate,
Left free the human will.
Or warns me not to do;
This teach me more than hell to shun,
That more than heaven pursue.
Let me not cast away;
For God is paid, when man receives:
T' enjoy is to obey.
Thy goodness let me bound:
Or think Thee Lord alone of man,
When thousand worlds are round.
Presume thy bolts to throw;
And deal damnation 'round the land,
On each I judge thy foe.
Still in the right to stay:
If I am wrong, O teach my heart
To find that better way.
Or impious discontent
At aught thy wisdom has denied,
Or aught thy goodness lent.
To hide the fault I see;
That mercy I to others show,
That mercy show to me.
Since quicken'd by my breath;
O lead me, whereso'er I go,
Through this day's life or death.
All else beneath the sun
Thou know'st if best bestow'd, or not;
And let thy will be done.
Whose altar earth, sea, skies;
One chorus let all beings raise,
All nature's incense rise!
[Come here, fond youth, whoe'er thou be]
That boast'st to love as well as me;
And, if thy breast have felt so wide a wound,
Come hither and thy flame approve:
I'll teach thee what it is to love,
And by what marks true passion may be found.
To live upon a smile for years,
To lie whole ages at a beauty's feet;
To kneel, to languish, to implore,
And still—though she disdain—adore:
It is to do all this, and think thy sufferings sweet.
With eager joy and fond surprise—
Yet temper'd with such chaste and aweful fear,
As wretches feel who wait their doom;
Nor must one ruder thought presume,
Though but in whispers breathed, to meet her ear.
Though heaven and earth thy wishes cross'd:
Though she were bright as sainted queens above,
And thou the least and meanest swain
That folds his flock upon the plain,
Yet if thou darest not hope, thou dost not love.
To nurse strange thoughts and groundless fears:
If pangs of jealousy thou hast not proved,
Though she were fonder and more true
Than any nymph old poets drew,
O never dream again that thou hast loved.
Thou dost not seek to be alone
Rapt in a pleasing trance of tender woe;
And muse and fold thy languid arms,
Feeding thy fancy on her charms,
Thou dost not love—for love is nourish'd so.
But those which love has planted there,
Or any cares but his thy breast enthral;
Thou never yet his power hast known:
Love sits on a despotic throne,
And reigns a tyrant—if he reigns at all.
Hither thy tender sorrows bring;
And prove, whose patience longest can endure:
We'll strive whose fancy shall be tost
In dreams of fondest passion most—
For, if thou thus hast loved, oh! never hope a cure.
Shakspeare has given us similar characteristics of this passion:
It is to be all made of faith and service:—
It is to be made all of fantasy,
All made of passion, and all made of wishes;
All adoration, duty, and observance;
All humbleness, all patience and impatience;
All purity, all trial, all observance.
(As You Like It, V. 2.)
In a French writer we find a parallel description:
C' est lui qui craint, qui se fuit, qui s' égare;
Qui d' un regard fait son suprême bien,
Désire tout, prétend peu, n' ose rien.
THE HOLY LAND,
A SEATON PRIZE POEM; 1800.
ORIGINALLY DEDICATED TO THE REV. CHARLES SYMMONS, D. D.
ARGUMENT.
Invocation. Palestine invaded by Joshua. Nativity of Christ: His Miracles; and Crucifixion. Destruction of Jerusalem. Pagan, and Mahometan pollutions: Crusades. Pilgrimage over France; Italy; and Greece; by Acre, to Jerusalem. The present unpeopled and unproductive state of Judæa. Conjectures about it's future condition. Allusion to the doctrine of the Millennium. Conclusion.
'Mid it's light Task with strains of holiest theme
Oft sounded, and for Sion's songs renounced
Th' accomplish'd Sofa's praise, oh yet pursue
Thy wonted ministry; and breathe again
Accents, which seraphs, from their tuneful toil
Pausing, deem'd more than mortal! Oh, 'ere heaven
Receive thee, Spirit, for it's loftier airs
Impatient, cast that mystic robe below—
Thy Cowper's mantle—on the pilgrim muse,
And guide to Palestine her destined way.
Like some dread spell, from memory's inmost depths
With thrilling magic wakes a shadowy train
Of joys and woes, thy many-colour'd fate
Whence shall the bard begin?—From that bright hour
When to thy land, of idol fiends the prey,
Remphan and Rimmon and the crew obscene
Of Bäalim, th' avenger Israel rush'd;
And Jordan, in it's pride of summer-flood
Roll'd backward, own'd his mission. In the van
March'd Havock, and with Canaan's guilty line
To Gaza's frontier bound. With equal stroke
Th' impartial steel smote manhood's towering crest,
And nerveless age: the buckler of her charms,
Which erst repell'd the blunted shafts of war,
Even Beauty rear'd in vain. The bastion's strength,
Whose front impregnable defied th' assault
Of sturdiest enginry, subdued by sound
Sank: and th' auxiliar sun, to human voice
Then first obedient, o'er th' ensanguined field
Stay'd his fleet coursers. Such the righteous doom
Of realms, apostate from their Lord: such doom
The victor felt, as oft his knee forsook
Jehovah's altar; or in battle bow'd
Beneath Philistim's spear, or scourged with plagues
(Disastrous option! ) or for many a year
Crush'd by Assyria's fetters. Still unfill'd
His sin's deep measure, and his sufferings still
Less than extreme; 'till Heaven's Anointed came,
And God rejected crown'd his crimes and woes.
From eastern climes advancing, hung it's lamp
O'er royal Bethlehem; not with comet-glare
Portending war to nations, but of ray
Pacific? 'Twas the harbinger of morn:
That Sun's glad herald, from whose living spring
Natures scarce finite in perennial stream
Draw floods of intellect, and bathe in light
Strong beyond human ken. In thickest cloud
Shrouding his native glories, lest the blaze
Of orient Deity with mortal flash
Should blast the gazer's vision, He arose—
So darken'd, yet refulgent. Through the cell
Of maniac Guilt, exulting in his chain,
Instant his bonds remit: with night's foul train
His cherish'd phrensy flies; and freed he springs,
On faith's firm wing, to liberty and heaven.
In that bright day of wonders, which have shed
O'er all thy lakes and hills a holy light,
Glowing with inextinguishable flame,
Though thou and thine are prostrate. In the dust
Thy relics shine; and deep-indented still,
By time's aye-rolling billows uneffaced,
The pilgrim tracks the footsteps of his God.
His pride, that unto him alone display'd
The mighty Workman stood, of other eyes
Seen by reflected beam; his shame, and crime
Of costliest expiation (yet unpaid—
Though Scorn with finger stretch'd, and biting Wrong,
Untired pursue the exile) that He stood
Display'd in vain! Yet Nature knew her Prince;
And prompt, as when at first th' Almighty Word
Awed the conflicting elements to peace,
Obey'd his powerful voice. Th' infuriate storm,
Which with rough pinion swept Judæa's wave,
Fled at his bidding; and in stillest calm
Th' obsequious surface slept. On restless couch
Wan Fever pined: He spake, and ruddy health
Sprang from her roseate bower, with pristine bloom
To light the faded cheek. Departed saints,
Dread spectacle! their yawning tombs forsook,
To hail the Victim-God. But Israel saw,
Prompt at his voice, th' infuriate storm retire;
Saw ruddy health on Fever's faded cheek
Shed pristine bloom; saw yawning sepulchres
Resign their shrouded captives—sceptic still,
And unconvinced; nay, to th' accursed tree
And centuries of anguish!) doom'd his King,
And stretch'd his own Messiah on the cross.
The tempest came; and 'round her glittering domes
Raved the resistless blast. Beneath it's rage,
Which never burst upon a nobler prey,
Sank in wide ruin whelm'd her triple wall,
And temple's golden splendor. Far away,
Born in her summer-beam, on rapid wing
Fled revelry and song. In scornful state,
Raised by the fierce invader, idol forms
(Jove, and Adonis, and th' Idalian Queen )
Mark'd to th' indignant traveller's shrinking glance,
Where Earth first heard her Saviour's infant wail;
Where, with keen throe, she felt his mortal pang;
And where she saw Him rise, death's conquering Lord,
Pure from Corruption's touch, by proper force
Triumphant. But imperial Constantine
Redeem'd the hallow'd soil, and from their base
The guilty mockeries push'd. In after-times,
When his false Koran on the captive's breast
With his sharp steel th' impostor Arab graved,
Fast by God's fallen fane it's gorgeous horns
The crescent lifting high, to pious wrath
To chase pollution from th' insulted hill.
The Red-Cross Hermit flew, his crimson flag
Waving aloft, and to the holy tomb
Summon'd her barbarous tribes. Through climes unknown,
At his wild whoop, in rout fanatic rush'd
Th' enthusiast myriads: on their scatter'd rear
Hung Famine, meagre fiend, with shrivell'd lips
Blasting the yellow harvest. Ætna thus,
Deep-heaving, from her darksome caverns pours
The fiery surge; and sad Sicilia mourns
Her buried hopes. Their woes were long to tell,
Where all was woe; 'till Salem's rescued streets
Smoked with her tyrants' blood. Then, thrown aside
The wearied sword, and hush'd the battle's roar—
Up Calvary's mount the barefoot victors toil'd,
Kiss'd the blest stone, and melted into tears.
Roused by th' inspiring theme, the Muse directs
Her towering course. O'er Gallia's far-spread land
Hurrying, with tearful eye she marks the shrine
By impious hands to harlot Reason rear'd;
From her bruised shield the lily's silver pride
Effaced, and high-born Capet's nameless tomb.
In war's dread garb the village-swain array'd,
Crowd on her glance, and force her pitying sigh.
Attract the stranger's foot. With lagging step
He winds amazed around their ample base,
And climbs with straining gaze th' aërial spire;
Within, pale Death, in grisly pomp enthroned,
Rules the twin realms of silence and the grave.
The wanderer greets; her plains of old renown,
And Mincio's sinuous stream—ah! stream, no more
Conscious of Maro's sylvan minstrelsy,
Whose oaten reed to the responsive woods
Sung beauteous Amaryllis. Other sounds
Burst on her startled ear, the shrill-toned fife,
Trumpet, and drum, and all the clanging war;
And urge her way to Tiber's trophied shore.
His terrors quench'd, the Latian eagle lies;
Whose plume, exulting 'mid the blaze of day,
Defied the vulgar shaft. She sees, and weeps
Her Rome's departed glories. More she weeps
The lofty spirit fled, and proud disdain
Of tyrant power, and virtue's vestal flame.
The forked mount, and famed Castalia's spring
To Athens, scene of all her infant joys,
Glowing with various life, nor Virgin's fane,
Nor marble breathing from the Phidian hand
Meets her sad eye. By Rome's fell lightning scathed
With partial blast, at Othman's withering touch
Th' Athenian amaranth died: the servile brow
No chaplet binds. Yet other sorrows wound,
With keener pang, the Muse's gentle breast.
Once warm with grace and genius like his own,
Her favourite sleeps; whom far from Granta's bowers
Studious to cull the wise, and fair, and good.
He could have taught the echoes of old Greece
(Silent, since Freedom fled) their ancient strains
Of liberty and virtue, to his soul
Strains more congenial! But high heaven forbade.
Rest, Youth beloved! most blest, if to thy shade
'Tis given to know what mighty forms of Chiefs,
Whose deathless deeds oft dwelt upon thy tongue;
Of Patriots, bold like thee with ardent tone
T' assert their country's cause; of Bards, whose verse
Thy Lesbian lyre could emulate so well,
Repose in tombs contiguous! Rest, loved Youth,
In thine own Athens laid; secure of fame,
While worth and science win the world's applause!
(That day, though distant, she remembers well)
The rose and lily, mingling, round the cross
Twined in close folds; scarce twined, 'ere royal feuds
Sever'd their holy bond—at Cressy soon
To wage sad conflict! But nor Cressy's lord,
Nor Poictiers' sable warrior, nor the youth
Who cropp'd at Agincourt the flower of France,
E'er vanquish'd fiercer foe than He, whose sword
Aye-glittering in the foremost van of war
Beneath these walls, still wet with recent gore,
Stay'd the dread Corsican. O'er Syrian sands
Th' undaunted chieftain to Byzantium urged
His fainting files. On purple pinion borne,
Fleet from the poison'd south, so fell Simoom
Sweeps Lybia's burning deserts. Loose in air,
By health's pure gale unfann'd, his banner droops;
And hush'd dismay precedes his dreary march.
Glad Acra sings, whose sinewy arm repell'd
Th' advancing death. But nobler meed is thine,
Thy Albion's praise; and thine her greenest wreath,
Bound in full senate round thy youthful brow.
Expatiates free; o'er Kishon's ancient stream,
Which swept pale Canaan's despot chiefs away,
And flowery Carmel. Tabor's distant mount
(Where, clothed in sun-bright beams, the Godhead blazed
Effulgent) and old Endor's wizard groves
Her onward glance descries, Samaria's hills,
And heretic Gerizim. Sion last,
In mournful ruin rising 'mid the wild,
Bounds her long toil, and wakes her bitterest tear.
“Flowing with nature's nectar? This the soil
“Of vaunted opulence, whose autumn still
“Most prodigal with guiltless usury
“Restored a hundredfold the loan of spring?
“Where are her vines, beneath their clusters bow'd?
“Her rampired towns, her thousand villages,
“And consecrated Salem?” Sunk in shade,
By hope's fair star unpierced.
The murky gloom shall chase, and gild anew
With long-forgotten ray her rising spires.
Whether the Gaul, on Egypt's ravaged strand
Still lingering, with his scorpion thong shall scourge
Her turban'd foe, and infidel himself,
Wage with unconscious arm the war of heaven;
Or the stern Muscovite with zeal's fierce flame
Shall purge her stain, unknown. In tenfold night
Sleeps the mysterious secret, sought in vain
For many an age, though Knowledge lent her lamp,
And lynx-eyed Genius join'd th' exploring throng.
In time's full lapse (so rapt Isaiah sung)
Which to thy renovated plains shall give
Their ancient lords. Imperial fortune still,
If right the bard peruse the mystic strain,
With furtive step the fated Hour steals on,
Like midnight thief, when from thy holy mount
Sorrow's shrill cry, and labour's needless toil,
And servitude shall cease; when from above,
On living sapphire seated and begirt
With clustering cherubim, whose blaze outvies
Meridian suns, through heaven's disparting arch
Thy recognised Messiah shall descend;
In royal Salem fix his central throne,
And rule with golden sway the circling world.
Far in the dim horizon's utmost verge
By Prophecy's unerring finger mark'd
To Faith's strong eye—when, with th' innumerous good
Of every age, the white-robed saint shall stray
Through groves of paradise, and drink unquench'd
Th' exhaustless stream of science! Seaton there,
Who bade to God the annual hymn ascend;
Darting, in every page of nature's code
Saw Deity inscribed; and Paley there
(For why should Praise, still lingering round the tomb,
Her torch of radiance light but for the dead?)
From whose keen spear the atheist crew appall'd
Shrunk to their native night—with all, whose voice
And harmonising life in virtue's cause
Their blended rhetoric pour'd, shall shine as stars;
Glowing in heaven's eternal firmament
With beam unchanged, while suns and worlds decay.
“Ab Hadriani temporibus usque ad imperium Constantini, per annos circiter centum octoginta, in loco Resurrectionis simulacrum Jovis, in Crucis rupe statua ex marmore Veneris à gentibus posita colebatur; existimantibus persecutionis auctoribus, quòd tollerent nobis fidem Resurrectionis et Crucis, si loca sancta per idola polluissent. Bethleem nunc nostram, et augustissimum orbis locum, de quo Psalmista canit (Ixxxiv. 12.) “Veritas de terrâ orto est,” lucus inumbrabat Thamuz, i. e. Adonidis; et in specu, ubi quondam Christus parvulus vagiit, Veneris amasius plangebatur.” (Hieron. Epist. ad Paulin.)
See Gibbon's ‘Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire,’ chap. Iviii. (XI. 85.) and Hume's ‘History of England,’ I. 333. Neither of these historians, however, seem fully to sustain the conjecture, that “six millions upon the first summons of Peter the Hermit assumed the cross:” though Robertson, in his ‘Charles V.’ I. 28., states it on the concurring testimony of contemporary authors, some of whom (particularly Fulcherius Carnotensis, the sixth of the ten published by Bongarsius under the fanatic title of ‘Gesta Dei per Francos’) had accompanied this destructive expedition.
Vergniaud, the eloquent friend of Brissot, in answer to a pernicious motion of Robespierre, once observed:
“Vous vaincrez vos ennemis—je le crois: mais la France, epuisée par les efforts faits pour vaincre ses ennemis exterieurs, dechirée par les factions, sera encore epuisée par les hommes, par l'argent qu'il aura fallu tirer de son sein; et craignez qu'clle ne ressemble à ces antiques monumens, qu'on retrouve en Egypte. L'etranger, qui les aperçoit, s'étonne de leur grandeur: s'il y pénètre, qu' y trouve-t-il? —Des cendres inanimées, et le silence des tombeaux.”
John Tweddell, Esq. M. A., late Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge. The close of these lines may, perhaps, feebly recal to the reader's mind the conclusion of the subjoined Hendecasyllables, of exquisite beauty.
Si frons ingenua aut rubens juventus
Morbum flecteret improbosque manes;
Non me carmina mæsta postularet,
Qui nunc ante diem domos ad atras
It Tweddellius omnibus videndas.
Intonsas hederâ comas revinxit;
Et risum dedit, et sales honestis
Junctos moribus: ut simul facetum,
Suavemque et lepidum ac merum pudorem
Laudarent alii, pares amarent.
Curas volvere, patriæque sortem
Sævo in gurgite nantis, ille vatum
Sacris parciùs immolavit aris:
Minervæque recentis ac vetustæ
Cultor sedulus, elegantioris
Musæ latiùs arva pervolabat,
Libans omnia mella Gratiarum.
Labra admoverat appetens, in ipsa
Haustu pallida contrahuntur ora,
Nec dulci spolio datur potiri.
Heu! frustra, Juvenis, mea ac tuorum
Manat lacryma! Tu nequis redire;
Nec spes ulla dolorve tangit ultra.
Felix, si tibi forsan inter umbrus
Persentiscere fas sit, ossa tecum
Illo cespite quanta conquiescant;
Tuæ te quoque quòd tegant Athenæ.
In Mr. Tweddell's ‘Remains,’ these lines are considerably altered and expanded, as well as beautifully translated by their author.
Acra, “ita tempore Belli Sacri nuncupata.” (Reland. Palæst. III.)
This city (it will be remembered) after a two years' siege by the German Crusaders under Guy de Lusignan surrendered itself, A. D. 1191, to the assailants, reinforced by the arrival of the Kings of England and France, who for some time “acted by concert, and shared the honour and danger of every action.”—“This harmony, however (the historian adds) was of short duration, and occasions of discord soon arose between these jealous and haughty princes.” (Hume.)
It is known that Buonaparte, when driven back from Acre by Sir Sidney Smith, was on his march to Constantinople.
The Mahometans tell us, that “this province had a thousand villages, each of which had many fine gardens; that the grapes were so large, that five men could hardly carry a cluster of them, &c. &c.” (Calmet, Art. Palestine.)
The notion, that ‘Jerusalem was in the middle of the earth,’ seems chiefly to have originated from Ezek. v. 5., xxxviii. 12.; and the Jewish and Christian commentators upon those passages (Kimchi, Raschi, Jerom, and Theodoret) have united to confirm it. It is a notion, however, by no means confined to the Holy City. A similar honour, if it be one, has been claimed by Xenophon for Athens: and for Delphi, among others, by Euripides, Orest. 325., where the Scholiast relates the story, upon which the epithet μεσομφαλοι rests; and with his statement his brother annotator on Pindar, Pyth. iv., nearly agrees. Ovid (Metam. x. 168.) adopts the tradition; and the later Roman poets (Claudian, Prol. in Cons. Mall. Theod., and Statius, Theb. I. 118.) only differ from him by applying it, with a venial partiality, to Parnassus in the immediate neighbourhood. Pliny, likewise (H. N. XI. 58.) asserts this privilege of central position to Abydus. A passage, in favour of the claim of Jerusalem, is quoted by Johnson from Sir John Mandeville. (Hist. Eng. Language.) The Brahmins deem Benares, as too excellent to constitute a portion of this perishable globe, a gem studding it's centre!
THE RAISING OF JAÏRUS' DAUGHTER,
A POEM; 1803.
'Reft of it's prey, and o'er the clay-cold cheek
Life's refluent lustre shooting, theme for less
Than seraph's harp too high, with trembling hand
The bard essays. Aonian mockeries, hence!
Back to your Pindus, nor let foot profane
Vex the chaste ground. 'Twas yours of yore to sing,
How with his lyre's soft magic Orpheus thrill'd
The ear of Dis; and from his doleful realm,
But that nor love nor pity dwelt in hell,
Had borne Eurydice: the strain of truth
Claims loftier inspiration. O be thou,
Blest Faith (as 'tis thy wont, 'mid scenes of fate,
With heaven's own strength to nerve the sinking soul)
The Christian poet's Muse; on wing of flame
Buoy his faint flight, and guide him through the gloom.
Meagre and flush'd, the food of hectic fires,
Gasps in weak conflict with the mortal fiend
Capernaum's lovely daughter; gasps in vain,
Beneath his withering grasp. Nor art can lure,
Nor might can shake him from his destined spoil.
Vainly to him sweet Innocence her palms
Spreads suppliant, and entreats with many a tear
Short respite from her death-pangs: Youth in vain
Pleads his brief hopes, or ere they bloom, decay'd;
His glittering day-dreams fled! The sigh of Love,
Breath'd from the inmost soul; pure Friendship's prayer.
Which fain with life would buy the life she craves;
Affection's tender prompt solicitude,
Keen to explore and eager to relieve
The want, just hinted by the asking glance—
All fruitless to arrest the ebbing blood,
Or check the pulse, with mad precipitance
Fast hurrying to it's goal! But who shall tell
The woe Jaïrus feels, as fix'd he marks
In her (so late his bosom's foremost pride)
The quivering livid lip, it's long farewell
Faint whispering; turn'd to him the dying look,
Him anxious seeking with it's latest beam,
And fondly lingering on the much-loved face!
Ah! whither shall he bend his soul's sad view?
Where find repose? The future, once so bright,
When Hope and Fancy sketch'd the happy groups
Dear to a grandsire's breast, appals him now
With horror's direst forms—the shrouded corse,
The bier, the black procession. Scared he shrinks,
And back through many a well-remember'd year
Darts his quick eye: but O yet deeper pangs
Lie ambush'd there! Too faithful to the past,
Officious Memory throngs the living scene
With all the father's joys—the fond caress,
The heart-sprung smile, the glance intelligent,
The speaking gesture, and the courted knee,
Throne of the babe's delight! In dumb despair,
Dumbness to which all eloquence is mute,
He hides his countenance. At Aulis thus,
When 'midst assembled Greece his knife of death
Stern Calchas brandish'd o'er the victim-maid,
Forth from the circling host in various guise
Burst the wild passions, by immortal art
The frantic mother raved; there prostrate sued
The weeping friend; Achilles half unsheath'd His mighty blade, and Telamon's brave son
Then first knew terror. Even Ulysses felt
Thrill through his icy heart the sudden throe,
And wish'd uncounsell'd now his prosperous wile.
Apart in majesty of grief, with face
(Beyond the painter's happiest mimicry)
Wrapp'd in his lifted robe, Atrides stood
Sadly pre-eminent; and art was hail'd
Even in defeat triumphant. But avaunt
Tales of the Tauric huntress, and the hind
Vicarious, and the rescued nymph, though told
In strains of deathless glory. Holier song
Befits the Christian bard, whose golden lyre
Should own no string, that sounds to aught but heaven.
Buoyant through yon blue concave; and shook off
(Half angel, ere it fled) it's beauteous clay:
To it's bright home by sister-seraphs led,
And by glad myriads of the sainted just
Greeted with hymns of triumph. So the lark,
Late in some sunless cottage-nook confined,
The toy of froward youth, if chance throw wide
It's prison-doors and bid the captive range
Free as it's kindred choir, with strange delight
(As, tottering on, she hail'd your wish'd return)
Have fondly fasten'd; whose transported ear
Has drunk the prattler's accents, as she lisp'd
Your welcome back with many a proffer'd kiss,
And smiles which art would emulate in vain—
Weep for the lost Jaïrus. Ye have known
What 'twas, amid the million cares and woes
(Man's hapless lot below) to find at home
That magic circle, o'er whose charmed round,
Save by the guidance of the wizard fates,
Nor cares nor woes intrude. O pause and think,
Even in your noontide blaze of rapture think,
If God his fostering beam should turn aside,
What darkness may be yours! and, while ye kneel
In grateful fervor to protecting heaven,
In generous sadness for Jaïrus weep.
That sharpest suffering led his anxious step
To life's pure source, and bade him from that fount
Exhaustless drink and live. With show of hate
Thus oft kind Mercy, mask'd in anger's guise,
Smites whom she loves. The mad tornado oft
Sweeps on rough wing across a smiling land;
And what was Eden ere the spoiler came,
Lies a waste wilderness: but thence the breeze,
Which stagnant erst in sultry stillness slept,
Is quicken'd into health, and genial gales
Play round the languid temple. Borne from far,
Oft the broad torrent with resistless flood
Whelms infant Spring; and trembling Egypt views
O'er his soft bloom the wide-spread deluge close:
Yet thence emerging soon the rosy boy,
With lusty sinew by the billow strung,
Quaffs the rich tide and thrives at every pore.
With hope's bright ardor glowing in thine heart,
Implore his sovereign aid. To that blest ear
The good man's sorrows never rise in vain.
O tell him that thy child, thy manhood's joy,
Th' expected grace and guardian of thine age,
In Death's chill gripe has wither'd, like a flower
Scathed by the summer-storm.—But no; forbear!
He knows thy woes: thy bosom's inmost pulse
Throbs to his eye. And lo, with eager haste
Zealous through thronging crowds he presses on,
At thine and Pity's summons! Stay him not,
Ye curious, ye diseased: And thou, whose blood
Twelve tedious springs th' insatiate plague has drain'd,
Catch not his robe; though thou art wretched too,
Revere a parent's anguish. Wondrous man!
Even from his hem, by Faith's pure finger touch'd,
The healing virtue flows, nor aught delays
His onward foot.
Of minstrel mourners marks the drear abode,
Where fast the maiden slumbers; undisturb'd
And all the pomp of grief. And now her hand
The Saviour takes; now from th' almighty lip
Issues the irresistible decree,
“Damsel, arise.” Her mortal sleep dispell'd,
And life's new vigour tingling through her veins,
Instant she wakes, as from a raptured dream
Chased by the morn's soft whisper; and beholds,
With all the daughter rushing to her eyes,
Her father by her side. O what was then
His gush of joy, as to his bounding heart
He caught, he clasp'd her close! Not more the bliss
The patriot hero feels, whose lifted arm
Guards his loved prince, while round his country's coasts
Invasion's hovering harpies scream for prey:
Not more his bliss when, sheath'd the hallow'd steel
(It's work of glory done, and in the dust
Th' insulting foe laid low) with honest toil,
'Mid the dear pledges of domestic love,
He tills the fields his unbought valour saved.
'Midst heaven's circumference yon golden orb
Shall veil his flaming forehead; and the moon,
Portentous phase! on æther's azure vest
Glare a red blood-spot—while in fearful course
Athwart or backward, whirling through the void,
The lawless planets rush; and earth, convulsed,
Deep to her centre shakes—on Death's dull ear
Again the thrilling voice shall burst, again
From his gaunt grasp the shrouded victim rend,
And pour through all his caves empyreal day.
No single corse, as when with joy's wild throb
Close to his heaving breast Jaïrus strain'd
His rescued child; but swarms, to equal whom
Night's spangled host or Libya's world of sand
Were faint comparison, to sudden life
Self-sentenced ere they meet their righteous Judge,
Shall to the crashing rocks and mountains cry
To screen them from his presence. Fruitless prayer!
Nor rocks, nor whelming mountains, can subdue
The conscious bosom's anguish: deep within
Coil'd round their life-strings lies th' immortal worm,
And gnaws with sharp remorse the quivering heart.
Others (and O may he, whose feeble hand
Frames this weak verse, the chosen number swell!)
Their mortal clay resign'd, in heavenly forms
Shall rise, resplendent as the summer-sun
Even in his midday lustre; and with bliss,
O'erpaying years of bitterest agony,
Hear the glad accents: “Faithful servants, come;
“Receive your promised meed. Your toils were great,
“And great is their reward. The God ye served,
“Steadfast when Passion sapp'd and Scorn assail'd,
“He, He is yours: for you is twined the wreath
“Of Eden's greenest amaranth, and for you
“Flung wide th' eternal portals. Enter in,
“Your task complete, your race of duty run,
“And share the joys and glories of your Lord.”
The pretended marriage with Achilles, which Ulysses suggested as a lure to draw Iphigenia to Aulis, with the substitution of a stag for the royal victim, and the daring originality with which Timanthes represented the agonies of Agamemnon in his picture of the Sacrifice, are too well known to need detail.
Amidst the trifling discordancy of the Evangelists, which occurs in this place, it may be proper to state that I have followed St. Matthew.
“Tempests occasionally shake our dwellings and dissipate our commerce, but they scourge before them the lazy elements, which without them would stagnate into pestilence. In like manner Liberty herself, the last and best gift of God to his creatures, must be taken just as she is. You might pare her down into bashful regularity, and shape her into a model of severe scrupulous law; but she would, then, be Liberty no longer: and you must be content to die under the lash of this inexorable Justice, which you had exchanged for the bannera of Freedom.” (Erskine's Speech for Stockdale, II. 268.)
THE SUFFERINGS OF THE PRIMITIVE MARTYRS:
A SEATON PRIZE POEM, 1811.
ORIGINALLY DEDICATED TO MRS. GRANT, AUTHORESS OF THE ‘DISSERTATION ON THE SUPERSTITIONS OF THE HIGHLANDERS OF SCOTLAND.’
ARGUMENT.
Introduction. Stephen; and his Jewish Persecutors. Nero burns Rome; and charges the crime upon the Christians. First Persecution: Peter and Paul suffer; the former crucified with his head downward. Domitian causes Clemens, his collegue in the Consulship, to be martyred, and banishes his widow Domitilla to Pandataria. St. John exiled to Patmos, where he writes the Apocalypse. Ignatius thrown to wild beasts. Polycarp burnt. Pliny, Proconsul of Bithynia.—The English Martyrs; Cranmer, Ridley, Latimer, &c. Apostrophe to Faith. Affliction no test of demerit. Other species of Martyrdom: Missionaries; the Macleods, &c. Conclusion.
The Mandate, with unconscious evidence
Stablishing the sure word prophetical,
That ‘they who will in Jesus godly live
Shall suffer persecution.’ This 'twas thine
First, Stephen, to attest (in Christian tomes
Thence Proto-martyr named) ere Nero yet
His crimson rescript issued; thine to see,
As on thy bruised form beat the stony shower,
Thy Saviour on his throne of adamant
Seated by God's right-hand. It's pearled gates
Heaven opens wide to cheer, before they close
In momentary sleep, thy languid eyes,
And with it's own effulgence gild thy brow:
O rapture far surpassing all thy pangs,
Were they ten thousandfold; when thy worst foes,
Struck with the sudden lustre, in thy face
Discern reflected Deity, and shrink,
Even while they perpetrate the deed of blood!
Ah wretched race, beloved of God in vain!
Unequal war, and on his embassies
Heap contumely and anguish! Lifted erst
By his strong arm from error's deathful shade,
To thee, high-favour'd One, 'twas given to catch
On thy tall pinnacles the purple dawn,
And glow while all was dreariest gloom around.
As when his tube some Herschel to the moon,
Crescent or waning, points, intent to note
And fathom all her depths, fast by her marge
Of some proud mount he marks the golden top
Glittering with heaven's first beam, while at it's foot
Flows darkness; so did'st thou, Judæa, rise—
Thou radiant singly, 'midst a world of night!
—But thou art fall'n; and who shall weep thy fate?
And keener woes. With devilish malice bent,
Tremendous frolic! to renew the scene
Of burning Troy, the felon prince applies
His secret torch; and, ere the night's pale orb
Has reach'd it's noon, with more than rival flame
Rome reddens. Perish in that mortal blaze
Phidias, and Myron, and Praxiteles,
The pride of ancient Greece; and more than these,
Perish the Valour which achieved, the Taste
Which prized the rich possession, Intellect,
Youth, Beauty, Innocence, beneath the sweep
Of the wide-wasting fury. He meanwhile
Perch'd, heartless ravager! like some foul bird,
That croaks and scents the carnage of the field,
From his safe battlements surveys afar
The beauteous glare, and with his lyre derides
The ruin he has caused. Are such the works
Unto a God of love, his creatures doom
To crimeless, cureless wretchedness? Yes—so
Nero pronounces, their Accuser-Judge;
And other fires are kindled. Wrapp'd in coats
Bituminous, or in the shaggy spoil
Of Libyan lioness, alternately
They blaze a living flambeau; or engaged
Less savage than the fiend who let them slip)
They die by the stern gripe of horrid fangs;
Or, dragg'd along the crowded hippodrome,
With head supine in the empurpled sand
Trace the prolific furrow. Then fell ye,
Peter and Paul, through many a toilsome day
Your race of duty run; fell but to rise,
Where long your pure ambition had aspired,
From earth to paradise. Inverted there,
As loth to rival even upon the Cross
His Saviour, Cephas hangs; how changed from him,
Who once with oaths that Saviour disavow'd,
And back from death recoil'd, as from a thing
Which heaven would poorly compensate! Where now
Thy gorgeous dreams of hierarchal state,
The sceptre and the crosier intertwined,
Themes of thy morning-visions? Vanish'd all;
Or rather for a more enduring pomp,
Wreaths æther-dipt and crowns above the stars,
Richly exchanged.
Her breathing-space. Not always can her sword
Drink blood, not always blaze her murtherous pyre.
Brief time she pauses. O'er the Capitol,
Ere many a year has roll'd, it's baleful orb
The Flavian meteor lifts; and by it's beam,
Of his own lictors victim, Clemens dies.
Him not the majesty of fasces borne
Conjunctive, nor the softer charities
Domestical, protect from the fell sway
Of his Imperial Collegue. But he falls,
Not singly stricken by the storm. In faith,
As in their fortunes one, and still in fame—
Expiates her creed, and whom she loved in life,
Loves and laments—even in the festering tomb.
Tyrannic to the cauldron's hissing rage
Consign'd in vain. The solitary isle
Received thee next, where on thy gifted eye
Burst visions of futurity, thine ear
Caught sounds of distant days, and angel-friends
Sooth'd thy lone exile. Earthly dwelling none
Open'd to thee it's hospitable door,
With the sweet converse of the wise and good
Gladdening thine heart: but New Jerusalem
From heaven descending, deck'd in bridal state,
Her walls of jasper and of gold her domes,
Dazzled thy view. Sapphire and topaz there,
Beryl and amethyst and chrysolite,
Their various rays commingled; and her streets,
Bright with irradiant Deity, were throng'd
With forms celestial. Lightly values he
To commerce thus with natives of the skies.
Which hunted David's issue, bent to crush
Messiah's kindred lineage; to the gaunt
And famish'd tigress gave Theophorus,
Antioch's good Bishop, and with fire's dread scourge
Smote mitred Polycarp. ‘His ashes flew,
No marble tells us whither.’ Rome could point
Of yore, when darkness veil'd her Vatican,
To where each several relic was enshrined,
Single or duplicate; for might we trust
The legendary lore apocryphal
Of that long night, each martyr'd saint would seem
(So crowded is her hallow'd charnel-house)
Geryon, or fabled Briareus! Thou too,
To trace Religion's triumphs and her tears,
Her corporal suffrances, her bosom'd joys;
Thou too, Bithynia's ruler, should'st attest
(Even while thou doom'st) her zeal, impregnable
To earthly fears or hopes; and prove how far,
The Christian's clemency surpass'd thine own.
Though worthy ye even of seraphic chords,
Who when again rejected Rome, by turns
Tempting and threatening, wooed you to her arms,
Her lures, her lowering, mark'd with equal scorn,
And for your new-pledged faith endured to die;
Cranmer, and Ridley thou, and Latimer
The pure, the primitive! But lightly ye,
Even in your day of frail humanity,
Reck'd human eulogy; or he would mourn,
Much as he longs to wake the lyre to praise,
His numbers all too weak, his narrow'd theme.
The palmy wreath thou twinest, and to the skies
Whirl'st them exulting in thy car of fire,
Snatch'd from a hostile world. Thus through their frame
Thou breathest the buoyant spirit, undepress'd
By dungeons damp where Pestilence collects
And by those ties uncheck'd whose tender force
Even in death's hour, when other bonds dissolve,
With tightening pressure grasps the beating heart.
Who in the perilous time when Murther, mask'd
In saintly garb, with ravenous tooth devour'd
His myriads at a meal, defied the fiend—
Because they sunk within his withering clutch?
Then have we vainly read, that God in love
Scourges his favour'd sons, and by the keen
And bleaching winter of adversity
Braces and purifies: then have we read
Vainly, that ‘light and momentary pangs,
Encounter'd firmly for the Crucified,
With heavenly glory's everlasting weight
Bear not comparison.’ In juster scale
We poise even human counsels. Who not waits,
When sceptred Glo'ster stalks in guilty pomp,
Expectant—till on Bosworth's righteous field,
Avenging the brief triumphs of his pride,
The crown'd assassin bleeds? When Epopee
Leads forth her shadowy phalanx, who condemns,
If for a little space Vice rears his crest,
She lifts her candid front: the clouds disperse,
And in the sun-bright throng of coming years
She hails her high reward. Nor fears the wretch,
Whom Justice summons to his country's bar—
Be but that country England—that his judge,
Or ere the long-spun narrative be closed,
Will with impatient spleen pronounce his doom.
No: 'tis but when th' Unerring Artist weaves
His plots mysterious, we explore the work
With blind precipitation, madly hiss
As passion prompts, and heedless of the sure
Though late catastrophe, with daring hand
Hurl our weak bolt before the curtain falls.
The wheel and cross? With mingled joy and pain
Thrills there no heart save his, who at the stake,
When Nature shrinks from the resistless flame,
Feels strong within him the sustaining God?
Answer me ye, who traverse Greenland's wastes,
And 'mid her regions of perennial snow
Plant Sharon's rose! Or answer ye, who brave
In climes of torrid fire the yellow plague:
Or, where it's inland sea Ontario spreads,
Fearless unto his lonely haunt pursue
The sullen savage; destined to receive,
Haply, from the dire object of your toils
Your mortal stroke! Nor shall ye of the Muse
Sleep unremember'd in your distant tomb,
Gallant Macleods, whom war's precarious game
The fervid noon, and drenching dews by night,
Alternate parch'd and chill'd you. Food was yours,
Which Famine lothed to taste. No soothing voice,
Honour's firm tone, or whisper'd hope of fame,
Lured, animated, solaced. Far from all
That nerves the soul, the sympathising friend,
Th' applauding world; from Caledonia far,
Loved by her sons beyond all other loves,
Ye met the shock, though life and liberty
(Such liberty, as despots can bestow!)
Clung to the offer'd turban; and with faith
Primeval, worthy of a nobler lyre,
Spurn'd the rich bait. As some fair cluster'd flowers,
Which in the desert waste their transient sweets,
Shrivell'd by heat or shivering in the storm,
Ye died. Now life and liberty are yours—
Such liberty as despots cannot give,
Such life as despots cannot take away!
Arctic or tropic, or the myriad isles
Nameless in thick profusion scatter'd o'er
The vast Pacific, bends th' excursive Muse?
Answer her ye, who in your Saviour's cause
Even from the babbling of compatriot tongues
The worldling's specious scoffings have endured,
And infidel's light gibes. Yet hostile shafts,
Barb'd with sharp sophistry or venom'd sneer,
Securely mail'd. But who unpain'd can bear,
When friend encounters friend, the pitying glance,
Pitying or scornful; who the kind reproach,
Which chides to serve, and wounds because it loves?
Or chiding tongue; on some triumphant day
Doom'd haply from thy Master to receive
(Fruit of thy firmness, and it's recompence!)
That friend's conversion. Grappled to thee then
By sympathy, than steeled hook more strong,
How will he bless the pious stubbornness,
Which won him from his error? How delight
To mix sweet counsels in the house of God,
Catch from thy glowing lip intenser flame,
And with united incense perfume heaven!
Transporting intercourse for fawning crowds
Ill-barter'd; when two harmonising souls,
From the world's feverish bustle far removed,
Together pour their humble orisons
Of prayer and praise, or with consentient glance
Explore creation's wonders! Happier still,
Ah then most happy they of human kind,
If to the raptured pair the holy names
Of Sire and Son belong! Deep in their hearts
The memory lives of many a tender look,
And many a fond caress. The hawthorn'd vale
Hand link'd in hand they traverse, Health and Peace
And Competence attending, or ascend
The mountain's brow, or on the ocean-beach
Stray the long summer-morn. With varied voice
Beach, vale, and mountain hymn their maker God.
They join in nature's concert. Tutor'd thus
And fitted for eternity, though Death
Sever by fate's decree the hallow'd bond,
With all the Martyr'd, all the Sainted Just
Of every age, their earthly warfare o'er—
Welcome, blest hour!—no more to part, in heaven.
Per sex dies septemque noctes eâ clade sævitum est ... Tunc præter immensum numerum insularum domus priscorum ducum arserunt, hostilibus adhuc spoliis adornatæ, Deorumque ædes ab Regibus ac deinde Punicis ac Gallicis bellis votæ dedicatæque, et quidquid visendum atque memorabile ex antiquitate duraverat. Hoc incendium è turri Mæcenatianâ prospectans, lætusque flammæ (ut aiebat) pulcritudine, αλωσιν Ilii in illo suo scenico habitu decantavit. (Suet. Ner. xxxviii.) Xiphilin in his Νερων adds, Και πολλοι μεν οικοι ερημοι του βοηθησοντος σφισιν απωλοντο, πολλοι δε και υπ' αυτων των επικουρουντων προσκατεπρησθησαν. Οι γαρ στρατιωται, οι τε αλλοι, και οι νυκτοφυλακες, προς τας αρπαγας αφορωντες ουχ οσον ου κατεσβεννυσαν τινα, αλλα και προσεξεκαιον. Opinion omnium, says Sulpicius Severus (Sacr. Hist. II.) on the authority of Tacitus, invidiam incendii in Principem retorquebat, credebaturque Imperator gloriam innovandæ urbis quæsîsse. See Ann. XV. 40. In 41. is subjoined, Jam opes tot victoriis quæsitæ et Græcarum artium decora, exin monimenta ingeniorum antiqua et incorrupta, quamvis in tantâ resurgentis urbis pulcritudine, multa seniores meminerant quæ reparari nequibant: and, in 44., Sed non ... decedebat infamia, quin jussum incendium crederetur. Ergo abolendo rumori Nero subdidit reos, et quæsitissimis pœnis affecit, quos per flagitia invisos vulgus ‘Christianos’ appellabant. Auctor nominis ejus Christus, qui Tiberio imperitante per Procuratorem Pontium Pilatum supplicio affectus erat. Repressaque in præsens exitiabilis superstitio rursùs erumpebat, non modò per Judæam originem ejus mali, sed per urbem etiam, quò cuncta undique atrocia aut pudenda confluunt celebranturque. Igitur primò correpti, qui fatebantur; deinde indicio eorum multitudo ingens, haud perinde crimine incendii quàm odio humani generis convicti sunt. Et pereuntibus addita ludibria, ut ferarum tergis contecti laniatu canum interirent, aut crucibus affixi, aut flammandi, atque ubi defecisset dies in usum nocturni luminis urerentur. Seneca, likewise, commemorates illam tunicam, alimentis ignium et illitam et intextam. (Epist. XIV.) See, farther, his De Irâ, III. 3., and Juv. Sat. I. 156.
Τον Φλαβιον Κλημεντα υπατευοντα (tantùm non ipso ejus consulatu, says Suet. Domit. XV.)
καιπερ ανεψιον οντα, και γυναικα—και αυτην συγγενη εκυτου—Φλαβιαν Δομιτιλλαν εχοντα, κατεσφαξεν ο Δομιτιανος: επηνεχθη δε αμφοιν εγκλημα αθεοτητος, υφ) ης και αλλος ες τα των Ιουδαιων ηθη εξοκελλοντες πολλοι κατεδικασθησαν: και οι μεν απεθανον, οι δε των γουν ουσιων εστερηθησαν η δε Δομιτιλλος υπερωρισθη μονον εις Πωνδατερειαν. (Xiphil. Δομιτ.)
Eusebius states, that she was sent to Pontia. The contemptissima inertia, by which Clemens is characterised in Suetonius, involves the crimination, as well as Xiphilin's εις τα των Ιουδαιων ηθη εξοκελλοντες, of being a Christian: Infructuosi in negotiis dicimur is the language of Tertullian, Apolog. xlii.
“Domitian murthered all the nephews of Jude, called ‘the Lord's Brethren,’ and slew all he could find of the stock of David, as Vespasian did before him, lest any of that race should enjoy the kingdom.”—“Some of the stock of David were brought to Domitian to be slain; but he, finding them to be poor simple unlearned men who, as it appeared by the hardness and callousness of their hands, worked hard for their bread, and discovering that Christ's Kingdom (which they were always talking about, and which indeed seemed to be the cause of all the Emperor's jealousy) was not of this world, but divine and heavenly, they were soon dismissed.”
By this name Ignatius designated himself, as meaning “One who has Christ in his breast,” in his interview with Trajan, A. D. 107. See Milner's excellent ‘History of the Church of Christ,’ I. 166— 190. The two letters likewise of the Proconsul of Bithynia, and the emperor Trajan in the same volume (160—162) do indeed, as Mr. M. observes, abundantly prove that “virtue in Pliny's writings, and virtue in St. Paul's, mean not the same thing.” See Plin. Epist. X. 97, 98. Polycarp was Bishop of Smyrna.
“All the graves and catacombs were exhausted to furnish Relics: not a bone, not the least scrap of any saint, that was not removed into the holy wardrobe, to raise money to the showers. Where the monuments were dubious and blended, the names and bodies of pagan slaves were taken into the Church-calendar and treasury. Disputes and quarrels arose among the numerous pretenders to one and the same relic, which could never be decided; but the victory was various and alternate, according to the fruitful inventions and ingenious lies of the contending impostors.” (Bentley's Sermon at Cambridge, Nov. 5, 1715.) This however, it should be remembered, was written very nearly a hundred years ago, and but a little week before the first rebellious attempt to supersede the Brunswicks by the Stuarts had been happily suppressed by the actions at Preston and Dumblaine. The learned preacher himself admits, in the sequel of his Discourse, that “Popery since the Reformation had, even in it's own quarters, permitted learning and humanity:” and I myself some years ago, addressing an Academical audience, ventured to express my conviction that “Time, the grand agent in diffusing intellectual and civil blessings, had not passed over the Vatican alone” without leaving behind him a share of his bounties. Whether, indeed, the relative state of the Romish (even Gallican) and English church be accurately expressed by Archbishop Wake in his last Letter to the Ecclesiastical Historian Dupin, In dogmatibus, prout à te candidè proponuntur, non admodùm dissentimus, I may still be permitted to retain the Academicorum εποχη: but our remaining differences are surely not of a nature to justify the withholding of those rights, which the more temperate Irish Catholics now claim at our hands; even if policy did not appear most vehemently to urge the concession, and the example of Catholic states entrusting themselves with unabused confidence to the Protestants Saxe and Neckar and Wurmser and Alvinzy could not be pleaded against us, and the names of Burke and Windham and Grenville and Grey and Pitt and Fox (a Sextumvirate, to which it would be difficult in these times to add a seventh) were not marshalled in their favour. Archdeacon Balguy's Discourses contain a very spirited charge on Religious Liberty.
As Martyrs, entitled to the appellation of primitive only by their creed and their lives. I have made no mention of the infant victims of heathen persecution, the
Quos lucis ipso in limine
Christi insecutor sustulit,
Ceu turbo nascentes rosas;
(Prudent. Περι Στεφ.)
though I am not ignorant of the distinctions made upon the subject by the early Christian Writers, particularly Gregor. Roman. who assigns two species—unum in mente, aliud in mente simul et actione (In Evang. Conc. xxxv.), and Bernard, who adds a third: Habemus in B. Stephano Martyrii simul et opus et voluntatem; habemus solam voluntatem in B. Joanne; solum in B. Innocentibus opus (Conc. in Fest. Innocent.) because of their unconscious and merely passive testimony. Infantia passionis ignara, says Peter of Ravenna, ‘the Golden-speeched’ (Serm. cliii.), martyrii palmas rapuit et coronas.
Εδοξαν εν οφθαλμοις αφρονων τεθναναι, και ελογισθη κακωσις η εξοδος αυτων, και η αφ' ημων πορεια συντριμμα: οι δε εισιν εν ειρηνη. Και γαρ εν οψει ανθρωπων εαν κολασθωσιν, η ελπις αυτων αθανασιας πληρης: και ολιγα παιδευθεντες μεγαλα ευεργετηθησονται, κ. τ. λ. (Σοφ. Σολ. iii. 2—5.)
Τοις δε αθλιοις των ανθρωπων θανατος ειναι ο βιαιοτατος η δι αιματος Μαρτυρια του Κυριου δοκει, ουκ ειδοσι της οντως ουσης ζωης αρχην ειναι την τοιαυτην του θανατου πυλην. (Clem. Alex. Strom. IV.)
Και οι Μαρτυρες τα προσωπα μεν του σωματος προς τους δικασας εξ αναγκης εχοντες, τη δε δυναμει λοιπον οντες εν Παραδεισω, κατεπτυσαν των φαινομενων χαλεπων. (Cyrill. Catech. xvi. í.)
For an account of the sufferings and steadfastness of these ‘noble Martyrs,’ see Mrs. Grant's late interesting ‘Essays on the Superstitions of the Highlanders of Scotland,’ II. 138—142. The regiment, of which they formed a part, consisted of Highlanders from the Isles, under the command of a General Macleod; and I have therefore ventured to distinguish them all, on the principle of clanship, by his name. Of above two hundred, who fell into the hands of Tippoo Saib, very few survived. Their sad story is detailed, with nearly historical accuracy, in the above lines. Warmly has the same delightfully-national Authoress of ‘Letters from the Mountains’ proclaimed,
JOSEPH MADE KNOWN TO HIS BRETHREN:
A SEATON PRIZE POEM, 1812.
And plenty crowns the banquet, plenty long
To their sunk eyes unknown. With wonder each,
Even in the hall of strangers, views himself
By Zaphnath-paaneah's high command
(Such name in grateful Egypt Joseph bore)
Seated in rank precise, as each from birth
Derives precedence: lustful Reuben here;
There Simeon prone to blood, and Levi link'd
In station as in guilt; with lion-port
Next Judah, from his loins ordain'd to breed
Imperial Shiloh; follow righteous Dan
And Naphtali, with Zilpah's offspring, Gad
And Asher, on whose line wait happier days
And regal dainties, crouching Issachar,
And Zebulun; last, from his anxious sire
Reluctant torn, ingenuous Benjamin
The circle fills. In blameless revelry
The sparkling cup goes round; and Want and Woe,
Lull'd by the scene, relax their horrid grasp.
The mantling goblet and the festal blaze,
Fastens on Benjamin the banquet's Lord
Such look intense, as beams in fondest hour
From doting parent's eye? Liberal to all,
Cull'd from the table's choicest luxuries,
Sends he in the o'erflowing of his soul
The five-fold mess?
Which binds them to their sympathising host,
They are his Brothers! All in infancy,
Offspring of different mothers, with like pride
Press'd the same father's knee; in boyhood all
Shared the same games, deeming the summer's day
For their joint sports too short: and had not Vice,
Jealous of One untainted by her wiles,
Their holy bond dissolved, all still had slept
Beneath the same dear roof. But Benjamin
With double force encircled Joseph's heart.
Fruit of a common womb, from Rachel both
Quaff'd the rich stream of life. Revenge, alas!
And Envy, hellish fiends, with mildewing breath
Nipp'd in their elder-born the tender shoots
Of love fraternal. To a roving band,
Of crimes divulged, caresses scant bestow'd
Resentful, favour'd Joseph they consign'd.
To Egypt borne, strange fortunes he endured,
Storm and alternate sunshine—sunshine still
Within his breast, while all without was gloom!
A salve; a cherish'd steward, to his charge
Spite of temptation trusty, though his faith
Devoted him to bonds; not even in bonds
Deserted of his God: of Pharaoh's throne
Next raised the grace and guard, in golden car
From his full garners, minister of fate,
He scatters life. Egypt the hoarded grain
Buys with her birth-right; and all-whelming Nile,
When with his annual flood he floats the land,
Through many a clime at Joseph's bidding breathe,
Droop if he doubts, and if he dooms expire.
Their wonted wealth even Canaan's fields deny;
Canaan, hereafter with the bee's rich toil
Ambrosial and the nectar'd vine ordain'd
To gladden Israel. Memphis in the throng
Of supplicants importunate beholds
The Patriarch Ten, his right-hand's son alone
Left to console their solitary sire.
By Joseph recognised, himself unknown
(For twenty summers with embrowning suns
Had changed his hue, and dignity's stiff garb
Cumber'd his form, while tones of mimic wrath
His yearning heart belied) with sifting tongue
Their story he elicits; and demands,
Price of his future bounty, Benjamin
Companion of their mission. Conscience now,
Oft sleeping long, but ever sure to wake,
Stirs in their bosoms. Joseph's anguish'd cries
Entreating mercy, as with shrinking glance
He eyed the pilgrim-traders, thrill their ears
With pangs unfelt before. But Vengeance just,
Sternly retributive (so Conscience deems)
Exacts their cherish'd brother. Hardly wrung
From Jacob's arms—his Rachel's last remain,
His age's child—with many a tender charge,
And many a bribe to sooth the despot's heart,
The blooming envoy joins their train; and hence,
Loading the board the banquet's luxuries,
The mantling goblet and the festal blaze.
Homeward the Hebrews haste; and much they talk
Of Egypt, though not yet her Pyramids,
Work of a royal artist, with their tops
Sky-piercing fix'd the traveller's curious gaze:
Much too of him their hospitable host,
His questionings harsh, his liberal courtesies
(Wondrous alike in both) with grateful warmth
They converse hold. Nor think they not of One,
Whose thoughts are still with them, their distant sire;
Ever—so Fancy views his reverenced face—
Turn'd anxiously to Egypt, if perchance
Some rising cloud, some hum of cheerful sounds
May note their glad approach—When, O! what tongue
Their terror shall describe?—on steed of foam
A messenger, with charge of pilfer'd cup
Augurial, stays their speed. As when the sun
And hill and vale in rich embroidery drest
Drink the full radiance; if the Power of storm
Spread his black wing across the gorgeous scene,
Instant the landscape droops, and deeper gloom
Sits on the lurid air: the Patriarchs thus,
From their bright noon of joy precipitant,
Sink to profoundest woe. And was it thine,
All-lovely as thou seemest, Benjamin,
Thine the foul deed? Requital infamous
Of tenderness peculiar! But thy blush,
Ingenuous boy, the slanderous charge repels.
Thy sacred load thou knew'st not. Backward now,
Mournful and slow, to Joseph's presence borne,
With generous intercession Judah pleads
The trembler's cause; the vehemence recounts,
Which tore him from their parent's straining clasp,
That parent's love and too-prophetic fears,
By Want alone surmounted; last, himself
(His brother's promised pledge) to servitude
He proffers with more virtuous eagerness,
Than others covet freedom. Farther suit
Their judge endures not: Nature long constrain'd,
With ecstasy too great to be suppress'd,
Forces her way. From public gaze withdrawn,
And all the pomp and garb of state thrown by,
While tears and cries announce his labouring soul,
He stands disclosed to the astonish'd train
Erst victim. From his soft forgiving glance
They shrink confounded; but his gentle tones
Breathe love and peace—“I am your brother, He
“Whom once ye sold to Egypt; but, be sure,
“You I not therefore blame. Auspicious heaven
“Guided the dread achievement; and through me
“Treasured it's swelling harvests, to sustain
“My father's house. Transporting destiny,
“More than equivalent for all my woes,
“By me my Father lives! O hie ye home,
“Tell him his Joseph's all-but-royal state,
“And, best prerogative of royalty!
“His power to bless, from Famine's ruthless gripe
“Wresting exhausted kingdoms. Bid him haste,
“Himself and his (so sovereign Pharaoh wills)
“To share at once, and double all my joys.”
Thus saying, with th' unblemish'd culprit twined
In close embrace, he melts in happy tears.
Faint, as distrustful of so high a bliss
(For love most doubts, what still it most desires)
Jacob at length, by proof resistless won,
Quits unrepining Hebron's flowery vales,
And Egypt to her shepherd-denizens
Cedes Goshen's verdant pastures. He beholds,
Theme of a realm's unprostituted praise,
His long-wept son, pursued where'er he moves
By every eye, by every knee adored,
And blest by every tongue; yet 'midst his weal,
As 'mid his woes, unalter'd. He beholds:
And streams of transport flood his aged cheeks.
To glory in their offspring, speak the bliss
Such consciousness imparts! To be extoll'd,
Whate'er your toils, by hosts of your compeers,
And read your triumphs in a nation's eyes,
Is noble recompence, which to disclaim
(Were such the arduous sacrifice injoin'd)
Scarce lies in man's frail nature. But a meed
Still purer waits the good man at his home,
Far from the clamorous crowd; when He, whose lip
The infant spirit breathed, whose lessons urged,
Whose life allured to virtue, clasps his boy
Charged with a people's well-earn'd eulogies,
And with his strong reflected radiance glows.
Hold still their onward course, with frequent sigh
Given to their prosperous orphanship; and think,
As o'er the venerated dust they bend,
How sweet it were if He, whose pious care
Tended the flexile scion, hail'd perchance
Enraptured the full promise of it's bloom,
And by his morning and his evening prayer
Drew on it's head the nurturing dews of spring,
Could taste it's ripen'd fruit: yet deem it crime
To call his liberated spirit back,
To mark their joys; joys haply not unshared
Even of blest souls, if bliss of mortal source
May rise permitted, incense-like, to heaven.
Rather the lore paternal, from the grave
Borrowing a sacred charm, they meditate;
To some weak brother fill the lost One's place,
And trace the copy blazon'd in the skies.
Co-heirs of Freedom, whose unceasing care
Watch'd o'er our tender childhood. Hers we are,
By every filial tie in her great cause—
Who guard it's base—bound to resist her foe;
To lose whate'er of life is worth the grasp
Equally destined, should or force or fraud
To that fierce foe give entrance. Wider still
Extends the Christian chain. That golden bond,
What nation clasps it not! Britannia, long
With gospel-harvests have thy valleys laugh'd,
And largely hast thou reap'd the plenteous crop.
Thy garners teeming with the sacred store,
Be to the famish'd brotherhood of man
Their Joseph: spread to all thy genial board;
Where'er thy banner streams, thy commerce flows,
Diffuse the hallow'd boon. Freely received,
Freely be it bestow'd. With light from heaven
Cheer Lapland's caverns: quench th' insatiate pyre,
Which feeds on India's dames: her plantain groves
Where green Taïti waves, by many a scene
Of shame defiled, bid lust, bid murther cease:
Teach the stern tribes by Aral's stormy strand
Even on his track of blood, the Calmuc wild
Shall rein his steed, and drop the faltering spear.
Neglectful, with unnatural eye o'erlook
Thine own unfed. And hark! from each lone cot,
Thy floating bulwarks and the tented field,
Bursts the loud prayer: “Give us the bread of life;
Give, or we perish.” Even thy little ones
With mute unconscious eloquence demand
Food, and the skill to use it. Never yet
To British ear rose Want's sad cry in vain.
Thy manna on the wilderness descends,
The living waters flow, and verdure springs,
Fruit of thy godlike bounty. Centuries,
The holy toil: still on thy children's ears
Shall break with gladdening sound the sabbath-bells,
And call th' adoring peasant to his God.
No more in rustic worth Helvetia's sons
Or, Caledonia, thine, through strath and glen
Where Spey's rude torrents seek the wintry main,
Shall stand unmatch'd. High on her island-throne,
Girt by the wrecks of less enlighten'd realms,
In moral dignity shall Britain shine,
In arts, in arts supreme. From her pure lip,
As erst from Solomon's the Southern queen,
Nations shall gather wisdom, for their wealth
(Peruvia's gold, and far Golconda's gems)
Rich barter: o'er th' emancipated globe—
On Niger's banks, by Lena's frozen tide,
Or where in infancy Missouri plays—
Venial idolatry! barbarian hordes
Shall bow them at the name of Englishman.
By actions unbelied, our tongues shall boast
A common derivation: through the earth,
As the wide waters o'er the ocean-bed,
The Holy Volume shall it's stores unfold,
And one vast brotherhood embrace mankind.
See Geddes on Gen. xlv. 10. p. 138, Crit. Rem.; where he doubts whether the seat of government was fixed at Memphis, Heliopolis (On, Gen. xli. 45.), or Tanis. Patrick, from the Zoan of Ps. lxxviii. 43., places it at the latter.
Ipsumque Ægypto præficiens, per annos octoginta (comp. Gen. xli. 46., and l. 26.) purpurâ vestitum et coronâ coronatum in curru aureo incedere fecit: et quùm virtute omni admirabilis esset, omnia ratione disponebat, et potestate concessâ omnibus in rebus humiliter utebatur, quæ res hujusmodi felicitatis apud Ægyptios causa fuit. (F. Jacob. Philippi Bergomensis Suppl. Chronic. fo. xlii.) In this last paragraph the Chronicler, probably, refers to that amiable trait of the Ægyptian character, which disposed them (according to Diod. Sic. lib. I.) ευχαρισως διακεισθαι προς παν το ευεργετουν. Clement of Alexandria likewise informs us, in the First book of his Stromata, that αυτων νομοθετας και διδασκαλους—εθεολογησαν ακριβως.
Ib. xlix. 20. That Sir William Drummond in his ‘Œdipus Judaïcus,’ following generally Kircher and Dupuis, has attempted to resolve Jacob's prophecies in this chapter into a series of astronomical allusions to the Twelve Signs of the Zodiac, I am not ignorant. He differs from his predecessors, indeed, in assigning Gemini to Benjamin; and there appears, throughout, a great lack of correspondence in the succession of the two corresponding dozens: not to mention, that in referring Zebulun to Capricorn (to which, however, Gad seems to have what, in any other case, the Right Honourable Author would probably have deemed irresistible pretensions) he is obliged to take for granted, that Kircher had “found some tradition,” though “he has not given the slightest intimation,” upon the subject; and that the parallelism of Manasseh and Sagittarius he has left wholly “to the ingenuity of his readers to supply!!” They seem, indeed, to fall to each other, merely because they are the unappropriated relics of their respective series! But that Reuben is typical of Aquarius, Simeon and Levi of Pisces, Judah of Leo, Issachar of Cancer, Dan of Scorpius, Gad of Aries, Asher of Libra, Naphtali of Virgo, and Ephriam of Taurus, and that Shiloh is a bright star (Shuleh) in Scorpius, is elaborately contended in a profound Essay of forty-three pages!!!
The priests, indeed, retained theirs, Gen. xlvii. 22.: but this would, probably, bear only a small proportion to the whole of the layproperty surrendered to the King upon this occasion.
This, however, is far from being ascertained; as both the period of their erection, and the object of it, are still involved in obscurity. Some, indeed, have regarded them as the result of the Israelitish bondage-labours. Even the date of the opening of the Great Pyramid is unknown. It is hoped, Lieut. Wilford may from Shanscrit records be enabled to elucidate these mysteries.
Gen. xliv. 5. This passage has been the cause of much perplexity. Bishop Wilson proposes a different punctuation, by omitting the point after ‘divineth,’ to take off from Joseph the imputation of using what he calls “unwarrantable practices.” Other Annotators explain, from Julius Serenus, the mode of Divination by the Cup in use among the Egyptians, Abyssinians, and Chaldeans, involving an appeal to diabolical agency; and quote from the celebrated Cornelius Agrippa his, “Erat olim apud Assyrios in magno pretio hydromantiæ species, Lecanomantia nuncupata, à pelvi aquæ plenâ, cui imponebantur aureæ et argenteæ laminæ et lapides pretiosi certis imaginibus, nominibus, et characteribus inscriptæ; ad quam etiam referri potest artificium, per quod plumbo aut cerâ liquefactis et in aquam projectis, rem quam scire cupimus manifestis exprimunt imaginum notis.” (De Occult. Philosoph. I. 57. fo. lxxiii. ed. 1533.) Bishop Patrick suggests two or three solutions, but they are none of them perfectly satisfactory. The original verb, in our version construed ‘to divine,’ admits much variety of interpretation. That Joseph, if our translation be correct, must at least have affected to practise augury, can scarcely be denied after reading his own speech in the fifteenth verse; and this Geddes excuses by suggesting, that ‘the Mosaic Law against divination was not yet promulgated.’ To Kennicott's rendering of v. 5, “Therefore he would certainly discover concerning it,” he strongly objects. See, also, Le Clerc in loc.
In illustration of this passage read the splendid ‘Reports of the British and Foreign Bible Society,’ upon the distribution of the Scriptures near the Euxine and the Caspian Sea.
“A Donation from the Society, with the promise of farther aid, has induced the Ministers of the United Brethren at Sarepta to begin a translation of the Gospel of St. Matthew into the Calmuc dialect; and it is confidently hoped, that they will extend their labours to the whole of the New Testament.”
To the Convicts at Woolwich, Portsmouth, and Sheerness.
To the Prisoners in Newgate, and other Jails throughout England.
To the Refuge for the Destitute, the London Female Penitentiary, and the Female Penitentiaries at Bath and Plymouth.
To the Poor in Workhouses, Hospitals, and Jails.
To the Poor Sufferers by the Great Fire at Chudleigh.
To Foreign Soldiers and their Children, and to Foreign Seamen at various Depôts and Sea-ports.
To the Sea-Fencibles on the Essex Coast.
To the Naval and Military Hospitals, and for sale at reduced prices to Soldiers and Sailors.
To the Crews of Revenue-Cutters, and of the Post-Office Packets.
To the Isles of Mann, Sark, Jersey, Guernsey, and Alderney.
To the Sunday and other Schools for the Poor in Ireland.
To the Poor in Ireland, at very reduced prices.
To the Poor, both Protestants and Roman Catholics, in Denmark, Holstein, Norway, Sweden, Prussia, Poland, Germany, Austria, Hungary, Silesia, Livonia, Gallicia, Alsace, and France.
To the Foreign Troops in the General Hospital at Lisbon.
To the Poor German Colonists on the Banks of the Wolga.
To France, by Prisoners who have returned in Cartels.
To Spain and Portugal.
To Madeira, the Morea, Malta, Naples, Sicily, Zante, Constantinople, and the Greek Islands.
To the Portuguese in Tanjore and other parts of India.
To the Island of Ceylon.
To the Island of Bourbon, Aleppo, and Smyrna.
To Port Jackson in New South Wales.
To Van Dieman's Land.
To the Cape of Good Hope, for the British Soldiers, the converted Hottentots, and others.
To Senegal and Goree, for the use of the Inhabitants and Garrisons.
To Newfoundland, Bermuda, Quebec, and various parts of Canada, Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, and Labrador.
To several Islands in the West Indies, for the use of the converted Negroes and others.
To Paramaribo, Demerara, Buenos Ayres, Chili, Carthagena, Surinam, and the Bay of Honduras.”
pp. 20, 21, 22.
“Total of Bibles and Testaments issued by the Society (exclusive of those printed on the Continent) previously to March 31, 1812.
Bibles — 140,415
Testaments — 291,524.” p. 29.
“Total Net-Receipts this year, including the produce of Sales 43,532l. 12s. 5½d.” p. 30.
THE DEATH OF SAUL AND JONATHAN,
A POEM; 1813.
Συρισδεν δυναμην.
(Mosch.)
By valiant Jabesh breathed, as on he moves
With all the mournful minstrelsy of grief;
The flute's low-murmur'd note, the muffled drum,
Deep-toned bassoon, and trumpet's clang between,
Weeping his Saul departed—from that Saul
How changed, who erst in battle's perilous van
Strode foremost, and with arm resistless crush'd
Whate'er opposed!
And lodged in earth unblest, he shall not lack
Even from his hunted foe high eulogy,
Beseeming Heaven's Anointed. In that corse,
With many a barbed shaft unseemly gored
(His myriad wrongs forgotten) Jesse's son
Sees but his country's chief, his Michal's sire,
His boyhood's bounteous patron. Keener pangs
Thrill his firm frame, as near with blood besmear'd
He marks thy bosom, gentle Jonathan,
Whose last throb heaved for him! Thy long long years
Of faith, which nor adversity's stern frown,
Rush on his mind—And hark! his lyre he strikes
Attuned to saddest cadence, while his lip
Gives sobbing utterance to his generous woe!
Which scented Israel's royal bower,
Has soil'd in vulgar dust it's head,
And all it's bloom is vanished!
From Askelon's proud dames conceal
The wretchedness 'tis ours to feel:
Lest, borne upon the western gale,
Philistia's shouts of triumph wound our ear,
And with unhallow'd taunt insult the pious tear.
Gilboa; on thy fields no shower
Henceforth it's balmy treasure pour:
For there, the bruised shield of Saul,
The Mighty's shield, was vilely cast away;
As though no sacred oil had blest his brow for sway.
Not vainly wielded Saul his sword,
Not vainly twang'd his son the cord;
Theirs lion-force, theirs eagle-speed!
And though nor speed nor force could ward their end,
Lovely and loved in life, in death 'twas theirs to blend.
Who bade your limbs the scarlet fold;
Your arms, your necks who wreathed with gold,
And joy'd your glittering forms to hail!
Scathed by the storm, the Mighty fills his urn:
On thy high places scathed, thee, Jonathan, I mourn.
Music, which heaviest thoughts beguiles—
And sunbeams to mine eye thy smiles:
Nor I to thee less fondly dear!
Much as my soul has relish'd maiden's love,
Thy tenderness arose their tenderest flights above.
Which scented Israel's royal bower,
Has soil'd in vulgar dust it's head,
And all it's bloom is vanished!’
Such tuneful grief: nor when the Dorian mourn'd
His Bion lost, and wept that meanest herbs,
The garden's lowly growth, should rise renew'd,
While Man—the great, the valiant, and the wise—
Sinks in unwaking sleep; nor when each flower,
That sad embroidery wears, “our Milton cropp'd,
“To strew the laureat hearse where Lycid lay;”
Nor when his Parnell Albion's Homer wail'd,
“Dear to the Muse in vain.” For theirs were lyres,
Though sweet, of human fabric. David's eye
O'er his friend's faded form dropp'd tears divine:
The wreath he wove was twined with flowers from heaven.
In it's first lustre. Oft as he review'd
Those scenes (still best beloved) of early prime,
When with light crook 'twas his from lion's paw,
Brave boy! or bear's, in Bethlehem's solitudes
To guard his father's flock; his Jonathan
Stooping to lift him from the lowly vale
Of shepherd-life, and seat him near the throne
Fast by himself, in his own garment robed,
Girt with his zone and with his quiver graced,
Held his dim gaze and bathed his glowing cheek.
His wars of triumph, peaceful pageantries,
Or even (to his frail heart by crime endear'd)
His Bathsheba's caress, came o'er his soul
Aught so sublimely sweet as those pure hours,
When each unto his other dearer self
Gave the entire possession of his breast.
Profanes the holy harp, which thou alone
Might'st sweep unblamed. Beneath my theme opprest
Like thee I feel, when for the giant-strife
Cased in thy prince's mail. Yet must I dare
Th' adventurous achievement: O be mine,
As my weak fingers wander o'er it's strings,
To catch some portion of thy hallowing fire.
Ere glad Judæa own'd thee for her lord,
The sorcery of thy native woodnotes wild,
That thou could'st charm to rest the busy fiends
Which gnaw'd thy moody sovereign. From thy wires
Issued such heavenly music, fell Despair
Her iron gripe unclench'd; and gave him back,
Again a king, to cheerfulness and power.
With grateful rapture echo Gibeah's domes,
And Michal's cheek is flush'd with filial joy.
Deepen that pure carnation? In the effect,
A father's face with wonted smiles relumed,
Pass'd he who pour'd the strain medicinal,
The blooming Cause, unmark'd? Did no fleet gleam,
With added glow kindling thy countenance,
No hurried pulse his wish'd arrival hail?
Or rather, all unconscious of the lay,
Hung not thy soul upon the Minstrel's lip?
Did'st thou not note with more than daughter's zeal,
Whilst o'er his harp he lean'd, his eye's keen glance,
He watch'd the workings of his magic song?
Prized o'er all other price, to recompense
The healing hymn; nor thine alone of those
His valour saved, th' imperial house of Saul,
To pay the stripling champion with thy heart,
When from Goliath's slaughter he return'd
Triumphant. With like ardor Jonathan,
Though doom'd his orb from that bright star to meet
Total eclipse, it's rising radiance scann'd,
And proudly track'd it's glories through the skies.
And hence each murky fog, each sanguine cloud
Raised by his father's breath to quench it's blaze,
Ceaseless he wept. To his pure clasp no bar,
That of untitled stem the hero sprung,
Whose virtues were patrician. Lurk'd his friend,
Chased by a thankless prince, in Naioth's hold
Or far Adullam's cave, 'mid Hareth's woods
Or Keilah's traitor towers, or (safer there,
Where none were to be served, and to betray!)
In Ziph's unpeopled wastes? With foot untired
In Naioth, or amid thy forest-depths,
Hareth, or in Adullam's sheltering night,
Ziph or ungrateful Keilah, Jonathan
Anxious to rescue, as his sire to slay,
Pursued the homeless wanderer: and could faith
Beyond all Greek, all Roman fame have wrought
Redemption for a fated line, his sons
Had still sway'd Judah's sceptre, and the wilds
Of Bethlehem ne'er had lost their shepherd-boy.
And often guilt, beyond itself avenged,
On it's own innocent race drags ruin down.
Saul's forfeit diadem: and filial worth
Sinks in the parent's wreck. The shatter'd trunk
Lies in Gilboa's field, it's palmy crown
Stripp'd by the storm; and there, untimely strew'd,
It's verdant scions in their summer-pride
Of the same tempest victims!
Retributive, disinterested Prince,
Is come; and floods of bliss thy brief woes drown.
Where Paradise it's lengthening glades extends
Robed in eternal green, 'tis thine with him
Thou loved'st on earth to stray; thy mortal cares
Remember'd, if remember'd, but t' enhance
Thy present transports; nor shall harsh behest
Of cruel father e'er divide you more.
Nor give one strain to that which urged the whole,
Dear Friendship? Most unworthy he to taste,
Whose recreant tongue not owns, it's hallow'd joys!
Found trusty, might I utter unbetray'd
The name, which springs to my impatient lip,
How would I syllable it forth! But thou
Hast that within thee (should this mystic verse
E'er meet thy conscious vision) that, with throb
Answering to mine, will recognise and seize
Each veil'd allusion, as in fond disguise
Cautious it shadows forth our early hours.
A halo-glory crowns each blessed spot
Visited by our steps in youth's sweet prime,
And thither—for near thee are spread the scenes
Relax their hold upon thee, turn thy feet
In happy pilgrimage; and, “Here we stray'd
(So commune with themselves thy tender thoughts)
“Soon as the morning-sun you heathery brow
“Smote with slant beam, while yet the pearly dew
“Hung on each crimson bell; here pour'd uncheck'd
“The soul's pure current, or of youthful loves
“Conversing, or of Granta's amaranth bowers,
“And many a studious friend with hooks of steel
“Link'd to our common heart!”
And far by fortune sunder'd we pursue,
As various duty guides, our separate tracks,
Cheer'd by rare interview. Yet not the less
Enraptured, from my pastoral retreat
I mark thy brightening fame, and as I gaze,
Glow with it's golden radiance. Thou meanwhile,
Not of thy distant friend 'midst loftier views
Forgetful, still shalt hear—if aught of One
So humble reach thee—that he holds the course
Our youthful purpose traced, of just and true;
Still woos at intervals the gentle Muse,
Blest in his lot, and grateful—though not great.
Nothing now forbids my filling up this blank with the dissyllable, Basil; and those, who are interested about me or my friendships, will have no difficulty in assigning to it the proper surname.
THE RESTORATION OF LEARNING IN THE EAST,
A POEM; 1805.
ORIGINALLY DEDICATED TO LADY JONES.
ARGUMENT.
Creation. Light. India. It's vegetable, literary, and religious superiority over the Western World. Brahma introduces his superstition. India still eminent in physics (particularly astronomy), metaphysics, ethics, and poetry—lyric, epic, and dramatic. ‘The Fatal Ring.’ Mahometan irruptions under Mahmoud of Ghizni, anciently Bactria. Tamerlane: India totally degraded. Her European conquerors for a long time equally oppressive. Sir William Jones: His attainments, and virtues; and premature death. The Marquis Wellesley: The New College at Calcutta. Cambridge. The probable Effects of the Restoration of Learning on the peasantry and manufacturers of Hindostan; Improvements in Chemistry, Medicine, &c. Morals; Social Feeling (The Paria: Mr. Cleveland civilises the district of Bhâgulpour) and Religion. The Missionaries. Apostrophe to England: Contrast of her arts with those of France. Conclusion.
And streams of splendor gush'd around their Lord.
Forth at that bidding, emulous to run
His course of glory, sprang the giant Sun;
And, as he chased the scattered rear of night,
O'er the wide East diffused his earliest light.
There while his infant beam on Ganges play'd,
Or hung entranced o'er Agra's spicy glade,
India, first cherish'd with his orient ray,
Shone like a bride in brightest colours gay.
Cradled on earth's soft lap, it's lowly bed,
In blushing pride luxuriant Butea spread:
Itself a grove, the banyan there was seen,
Arch within arch, and “echoing walks between;”
There Vegetation fix'd her choice abode,
And one sweet garden all the region glow'd.
India rose brilliant from the penal wave;
Rush'd to the Sun's invigorating arms.
Rear'd in her fields, and foster'd by her skies,
The growth of mind attain'd it's loftiest size:
There where the mango swell'd on every bough,
And double harvests teem'd without the plough,
Her happy race knew none save letter'd toil,
And Arts and Science bless'd the genial soil.
India rejoiced in patriarchal light.
Tradition there preserved, from sire to son,
That first great truth, that God is All and One;
'Till fabling bards the mystic song began,
And learned darkness stole on wilder'd man.
His rigid code then selfish Brahma framed,
Then for his Caste it's proud distinction claim'd;
Waved o'er the cheated realm his ebon wand,
And scatter'd demon-meteors through the land.
Pure as his source, awhile young Ganges flows;
Through flowery meads his loitering way pursues,
And quaffs with gentle lip the nectar'd dews;
'Till, swoln by many a tributary tide,
His waters wash some tall pagoda's side:
Then broad and rough, 'mid rocks unknown to day,
Through tangled woods where tigers howl for prey,
He foams along; and, rushing to the main,
Drinks deep pollution from each tainted plain.
Smiled on her dusky suitor as he woo'd.
To him, while Europe's hordes lay whelm'd in shade,
Her fullest charms the radiant power display'd:
Show'd him the wonders of her secret lore,
The plant's retiring virtues to explore;
From midnight depths the sparkling gem to raise,
And bid it on the brow of beauty blaze:
'Mid the bright orbs, that gild the peopled sky;
To trace the self-poised planets, as they run
In endless circle round their central sun:
See whirling earth, with two-fold impulse driven,
Wheel through the vast obliquity of heaven;
While day and night, and all the changeful year,
Turn as she turns and hang on her career:
Taught him, with useful fiction, to portray
The glittering monsters of th' ecliptic way:
Th' innumerous host of stars to group and name,
That pour on worlds unseen their solar flame;
Orion's might which sways the southern seas,
Arcturus, and the cluster'd Pleiades:
Taught him with subtiler skill, and better art,
To pierce the close recesses of the heart;
Hold moral beauty to man's raptured sight,
Guide him from passion's glare to reason's light;
And prompt him, to himself severely true,
His high descent to prove, his glorious end pursue.
With patient labour to the throne of truth,
Studious by just gradation to refine
From brute to human, human to divine:
But Fancy rapt him on her wing of fire
To realms sublime, where bliss outruns desire;
Where streams of crystal feed ambrosial flowers,
And Love and Glory speed the laughing hours:
Her lyre, and liquid voice, and numerous lay;
Gave him her holy hymn, her lofty ode,
To sing the chieftain or to sound the God:
Gave him her stately epic, to rehearse
His Arjun's fame with all the pomp of verse;
When Krishna, mounted on the hero's car,
Bore him secure amid the clanging war:
Gave him her drama's tearful vase, to pour
O'er virtue's sacred anguish pity's shower;
When soft Sacontalá in Canna's grove
Press'd the fond pledge of her Dushmanta's love,
Or as her steps yet linger'd on the green
(Of all her infant sports the happy scene)
Wept o'er each flower, her garden's blameless pride.
Kiss'd the young fawn that sorrow'd by her side;
And still, to ease her bosom's bursting swell,
To flower and fawn prolong'd the sad farewell.
May Genius like the brood of earth expire?
With meteor-front a few short moments soar,
Then sink forgotten, and be seen no more?
Ah! no: by age undimm'd his cheek appears;
His laurell'd brow defies th' assault of years.
'Twas Mecca's star, whose orb malignant shed
It's baleful ray o'er India's distant head.
To blast her bloom the Bactrian archer came:
Beside him rode, twin ministers of fate,
The Lust of Empire and Religious Hate;
And still, where'er their sanguine banners flew,
Spring's rosy splendors vanish'd from the view.
See from the north remorseless Timur rush!
His drear morasses, and his boisterous sky,
The fire-eyed Tartar quits without a sigh:
Calls his grim squadrons from their realms of snow,
And leads where zenith suns strange lustre throw:
By Bember's foot, who dreary, black, and bold
Stands the stern guard of Cashmere's vale of gold;
Through bowery Matra, where the Gopia nine
In love's disport with youthful Krishen join.
There while the mango from it's stem they tear,
Or light with saffron-wreaths their raven hair,
O'er India's plains the myriad swarms expand,
And Science, Genius, Fancy fly the land.
In the broad noon a spot is seen to rise,
Dread Typhon's cradle! O'er th' horizon's space
The monster spreads, till heaven scarce yields him place;
Then pours his fury, and with vengeful sweep
Bears houses, herds, and harvests to the deep:
Behind him scowls a desert and a tomb.
Thus India, bright in fortune's favouring hour,
Bewail'd the ravage of invading power.
Witness imperial Delhi's fatal day,
When bleeding Rajahs choked proud Jumna's way:
Witness, Benares, thy neglected towers,
Where Wisdom mused in academic bowers;
Their quadrant-curves where learned walls display'd,
And gnomon-pillars threw their length of shade:
Witness the voice suppress'd, the silent shell,
Which erst in lovely strife were wont to swell:
Witness (ah! heaviest curse) the night of mind,
To Superstition's ghastly brood resign'd.
Mute are her schools, and hush'd her warbling shades.
No more the Muse exulting Fancy fires,
Prompts the high thought, the lofty strain inspires:
Memory no more to the degenerate line
Points, where their country's ancient glories shine;
On Youth's pure cheek bids generous passion glow,
Or lifts his arm to lay th' oppressor low.
Thy sons enslaved, thy cities in decay!
But light the chains, the abject frame that bind,
To those which bow to earth th' aspiring mind.
Where once th' Hindu his simple prayer preferr'd,
And sweet his caroll'd hymn of praise was heard;
His gentle heart's religion, to do good;
There in her gory shrine, with outstretch'd hands,
Her human food stern Calica demands:
There his huge car the monster-god impels
O'er prostrate crowds, who court the crushing wheels:
There, from her babes by savage Brahmins borne,
The widow'd mother clasps her consort's urn;
With ill-feign'd triumph mounts his blazing pyre,
And sinks, proud trembler! in the sacred fire.
These, Superstition's execrable train,
Throng the vex'd soul where darkness holds her reign.
Portentous sculptures frown along the walls:
With snaky wreaths, in strong projection bold,
Clasp the wide arch, the massive shaft enfold;
And, as amid the gloom their forms dilate,
In the chill'd breast mysterious awe create.
And the mild flame of Zion's star prevail,
To guide her sages to the God's abode,
Would now, bright harbinger of peace! dispense
On her faint head it's healing influence.
But, ah! it rose in clouds. With sanguine glare
Ambition's comet fired the sickening air:
And, black exhaling from the putrid ground,
The mists of avarice heaven's blest radiance drown'd;
Breathed thick infection o'er the dawning day,
And quench'd the lustre of th' eternal ray.
Have ground her children with their iron mace!
Too long has Silence heard her whisper'd fears,
And glens impervious drank her flowing tears!
'Tis past. Her bosom stung with conscious shame,
Awaken'd Albion re-asserts her fame;
Inclines in pity to a groaning land,
Wrests the foul sceptre from the spoiler's hand;
And, greatly lavish in the glorious cause,
Grants with her Jones her science and her laws—
Her Jones, high-gifted to fulfil her plan;
The friend of learning, freedom, truth, and man.
His were the stores of letter'd time, comprest
The mind of ages in a single breast;
The glance to catch, the patience to inquire,
The sage's temper and the poet's fire.
Their Themis, Clio, Erato his own;
And his, reveal'd in all their dazzling hues,
The luscious charms of Asia's florid Muse:
With her o'er Schiraz' roseate plain he roved,
Where Hafiz revell'd and where Sadi loved;
On Rocnabad's green marge delighted stray'd,
Heard her soft lute in Mosellay's sweet shade:
Then pierced the mazy depths of Sanscrit lore,
While Brahmins own'd a light unseen before;
Bow'd to their master-pupil, and confest
With humbled brow the genius of the West.
He plies his restless energies of mind.
Strung by that orb, beneath whose flaming ray
Inferior natures crumble to decay,
With growing speed he presses to the goal,
And his fleet axles kindle as they roll.
In Law, pure reason's ripen'd progeny:
Whose rule the bad endure, the good obey;
Whose giant grasp o'er whirling spheres extends,
Whose tender hand the insect-speck befriends;
Her voice of quiring worlds th' harmonious mode,
And her high throne the bosom of her God.
One vivid burst, to lighten and expire!
In vain the Christian crown'd the learned name,
And boundless knowledge form'd his meaner fame!
He falls, bewail'd from where Hydaspes laves
His sands of gold, to Thames' distant waves:
Isis and Ganges weep their sage's doom,
And mingle sorrows o'er his early tomb.
O stay your griefs, sad streams! On length of years
Rests not the age, which ruthless Time reveres.
Ripe to his grave unspotted Youth descends,
Though to his cheek the rose it's radiance lends;
And hoary Folly ranks in childhood's train,
Taught to be wise by rolling suns in vain.
By frailties sullied or obscured by crimes,
To his own heaven resumed, o'er Asia's night
Still shall he shed his tutelary light;
Still kindred worth with rival zeal inspire,
And pour from Wellesley's urn transmitted fire.
Wellesley, his Eton's boast, his Oxford's pride,
Loved by each Muse, to every Grace allied;
And yet fresh millions he subdues and saves;
His eye's soft beam still throws on Learning's groves,
And fosters while he guards the arts he loves.
Forms with his mind, and with his presence cheers;
In gorgeous state the glittering turrets rise,
And brighter dawn illumes the Eastern skies.
There Brown, Buchanan (name to learning dear)
Train the fair promise of the opening year:
From Granta's mart convey th' exhaustless store,
Her schools' ingenuous strife, her classic lore;
All that her Newton, all her Bentley taught,
Her Barrow's eloquence, her Bacon's thought;
The precious cargo bear to India's strand,
And a new Granta decks the happy land.
O to my heart beyond all rival dear!
Dream of my night, and vision of my day,
Accept the homage of this grateful lay.
That I have friends, my throbbing bosom's pride,
That love for me his fillet threw aside;
That round my hearth his tenderest pledges shine,
That home and peace and competence are mine—
To thee, next heaven, I owe: and should the strain,
Which now I raise, thy favouring plaudit gain;
Thou gavest the lyre from which the music springs,
Thou gavest the art to sweep it's sounding strings.
Returning Science eastward leads her train—
Law, nurse and guardian of each useful art;
Honour, pure sovereign of the noble heart;
Blithe Industry, who whistles at his plough;
And Freedom, choicest gift her hands bestow.
And rustic echoes the glad note prolong;
As o'er his rice-field's floating verdure thrown,
His gay parterres and woodland's podded down,
His eye ascends to heaven with glistening gleam,
Joy tunes his tongue, and Albion is his theme:
Albion, who now each selfish care resign'd,
And all her glories flashing on her mind,
Now that the foe high lifts his blood-stain'd brand,
And law and freedom hang upon her hand,
Rides proudly buoyant o'er her own blue wave,
And what she bled to win would die to save.
The swarthy artist plies his dexterous loom.
Light through it's filmy maze the shuttle springs,
Nor deigns to touch the gossamery strings:
The slender form vests more than Coan grace,
And half seduce the eye from beauty's face.
And wants and woes entreat her soothing hand.
With patient toil on each new scene she pores,
Each lonely dell, each tangled brake explores:
Dauntless the death-snake's dreary haunt invades,
Led by her own effulgence through the shades:
Then, where with hues unprofitably gay
Superba reddens in the blaze of day,
From the deep fibre wring it's hoarded dye;
O'er the fine web the blushing tincture shed,
And gird with richer wreaths her India's head.
Where long it lurk'd, withdrawn from day's fierce glare,
Bids Medicine thence the wholesome simple bear;
From the coy root extort it's liquid health,
And bribe stern death with vegetable wealth.
His foaming urn cœrulean Jumna pours,
(As erst on Sunium's point) some Plato stands,
With virtue's magic charms th' ingenuous bands;
Points to the fair, and good, and brave, and free,
And bids them view, and emulate, and be:
Through each young vein the tingling ardor glows,
And all Ilissus into Ganges flows.
The foe she softens, and endears the friend.
—What wretch art thou, those desert wilds among,
Whose fearful footsteps shun the human throng?
Who fliest to forests, exiled from thy kind,
And all thy youth's best transports left behind?
Ah! by those streaming tears I know thee now,
And the despair that sits upon thy brow,
Devoted Paria! outcast of thy race,
Thrown shivering from thy fellows' fond embrace:
Like a blue plague-spot, hapless thing! abhorr'd;
Thy touch pollution, and thy doom the sword!
Pierce with her sun-bright beams thy dark retreat;
And close without a cloud thy late decline.
Yes: thou again the bosom's glow shalt prove,
The hand of friendship and the lip of love;
Thee shall the village-cot protect from harms,
And Brahmins clasp thee with fraternal arms.
Whose airy splendors mock the grasping hand.
Where Bhâgulpour uplifts her front sublime,
See to her topmost summits Cleveland climb;
Call from their craggy dens her savage swarm,
With learning polish, with affection warm;
Bid through their souls the flame ethereal thrill,
And mould their melting natures to his will.
Her tints Contentment to the scene applies,
And the waste desert blooms a paradise.
Raptured repairs where first her footsteps stray'd,
When down to earth she came, an angel guest;
And man, yet pure, her genial presence blest.
On Guilt's dark brow her glittering cross appears,
His sullied cheek is wash'd with pious tears;
And Ganges, hallow'd still for holier ends,
Death-stream no more, his wave baptismal lends.
The mild evangelists of peace and love.
Where in his fiery belt Dahomey glows;
Hoist round the stormy Cape their straining sail,
From Yemen's mountains woo the fragrant gale,
And bear (strange merchandise!) to Asia's shore
The Gospel's bright imperishable ore:
Unsold to deal it's unbought wealth, their plan;
Their traffic, to redeem the soul of man.
To check their eager march, Tibetian snows
And Caggar's sands their trackless wilds oppose:
Onward they press at Duty's sacred call,
South, North, o'er Decan's ghauts and China's wall;
Stretch uncontroll'd their Saviour's gentle reign,
And art and nature bar their way in vain.
On mosques where late the lurid crescent shone,
Pagodas rear'd to shrine an idol-stone,
Seringham's walls spread many an acre o'er,
And the proud domes of gorgeous Gazipour
Her banner'd cross victorious Albion waves,
Beneath that symbol strikes, beneath that symbol saves.
Thine is each gallant aim, each generous toil.
For thee, while Fame her wreath of amaranth twines,
And with her palm thy native oak combines,
The succour'd orphan lisps his little prayer,
And the slave's shackles crumble in thine air.
With what delight thy winding shores I tread,
Catch thy white sails by busy Commerce spread,
With labouring gaze ascend thy rocky steeps,
Or hear thy thunder bellowing o'er the deeps—
Heaven knows: and, hung th' event on vow of mine,
Thy cloudless sun should never know decline.
With poor intrigue to crop thy well-won bays,
And mask'd in traffic's or religion's robe,
Merchant or preacher, traverses the globe;
To shake thee, proof in Europe to alarms,
On Asia's plains with Holkar's faithless arms:
Pursue thy glorious course. Be this thy art,
Not to corrupt, but meliorate the heart:
Where'er mankind in gentile darkness lie,
Instruction's blessed radiance to supply;
O'er the oppress'd soft mercy's dews to shed,
And crush with ruin the oppressor's head.
Long by prophetic minstrelsy foretold!
Where yon bright purple streaks the orient skies,
Rise Science, Freedom, Peace, Religion rise:
'Till, from Tanjore to farthest Samarcand,
In one wide lustre bask the glowing land;
And (Brahma from his guilty greatness hurl'd
With Mecca's Lord) Messiah rule the world!
The knowledge of physics (particularly astronomy) by which the old Hindus were distinguished, as well as their metaphysical, ethical, and poetical fame, are briefly stated by Robertson, with his accustomed elegance, in the Appendix to his ‘Historical Disquisition concerning Ancient India;’ and more at large by Craufurd, in his ‘Sketches’ of that ingenious people.
The Bhágvat Geeta, or ‘Dialogues of Krishna and Arjun,’ an extract from the Mahabharat (the great epic poem of India, written, if we may trust the chronology of the Brahmins, within a century after the deluge) was translated by Mr. Wilkins from the original Sanscrit in 1785. It contains all the grand mysteries of the Brahminical faith.
See Sir William Jones' elegant version of Calidasa's drama, ‘The Fatal Ring.’ It's author, the Shakspeare of India, was the brightest of the Nine Gems, who adorned the court of Vicramáditya in the century immediately preceding the birth of Christ.
Mahmoud of Ghizni; who, after desolating India by twelve successive irruptions (the first, A. D. 1002), under the pretence of converting it's inhabitants to the true faith, founded a dynasty which lasted about 150 years.
This was the peculiar feature of Tamerlane. “His eyes (say the historians) appeared full of fire.” Krishen and the nine Gopia, mentioned below, are the obvious prototypes of the Grecian Apollo and his Muses.
The saffron-flowers of the Michelia are used by the Indian ladies, to relieve the jetty blackness of their hair. (Pennant, ib.)
“The land is as the garden of Eden before them, and behind them a desolate wilderness.” (Joel ii. 3.)
When Tamerlane caused it to be destroyed, A. D. 1397, upon the pretext of an insult offered to his troops, after the horrid ceremony of ‘the Joar.’
For a particular account of the celebrated Observatory at this place, see a Letter from Sir Robert Barker to the President of the Royal Society of London, read May 29, 1777.
The blood-thirst of this black goddess (the wife of Shiva, and the counterpart of the Tauric Diana or Hecate) is allayed in proportion to the dignity of her victim. After an offering of fish or tortoise, it soon recurs: by the sarabha it is quenched for twenty five, and by the tiger for a hundred years: but man is her favourite sacrifice, and his blood is effectual for a complete chiliad. This latter oblation however, as Sir William Jones informs us, is now forbidden.
Jagrenaut. The car of this deity is four stories high, and moves upon sixteen wheels; beneath which, numbers of his deluded votaries annually throw themselves to be crushed to death, as a sure passport to immortal happiness.
This custom still prevails in the Mahratta empire, and in the dominions of the ancient Rajahs, particularly among families of distinction. By the English it has been uniformly opposed.
For a description of this stupendous subterranean temple consult Thevenot, Anquetil, Robertson, Pennant, &c. but, especially, Niebuhr.
Sir William. Of this extraordinary man—extraordinary in respect of talents, attainments, and virtues, singly perhaps unequalled, but assuredly never before so united, Mr. Gibbon (in cases of simple literature, no mean commender) pronounced, that “he was equally familiar with the Year-Books of Westminster, the Commentaries of Ulpian, the Attic Pleadings of Isæus, and the Sentences of Arabian and Persian Cadhis.” From such a quarter, we do not look for any panegyric upon his conscientious investigation and acceptance of Christianity.
The lutanist Mirza Mahomed, from his sweetness called Bulbul, ‘the Nightingale,’ is recorded to have excited the emulation of his namesake birds, in a grove near Schiraz. (Pennant, ib. 261.) Sir W. J. had the story from one, who was himself witness to the circumstance.
“At a public durbar, a few days after his death, the Pundits could neither restrain their tears for his loss, nor find terms to express their admiration at the wonderful progress he had made in the sciences which they professed.” (Lord Teignmouth's ‘Life of Sir William Jones.’)
In 1794, Sir William Jones published his translation of ‘The Ordinances of Menu,’ comprising the Indian system of religious and civil duties. In the lines beginning
Rice, opium, and cotton supply the chief employment and support to the peasantry of Hindostan. Hodges represents the manufacturer as setting up his light loom every morning in the cool shade, and taking it home with him in the evening.
This most fatal reptile (the Cobra de morte) is said, perhaps fancifully, to bear upon it's head the marks of a scull and two crossbones. (Pennant, ib.)
Of the dreadful exclusion of these unhappy beings from society, a striking exemplification is given by St. Pierre, in his ‘Chaumière Indienne.’ Their very shadow, in the estimation of the purer Hindu, literally pollutes what it passes over; and, if they happen to touch one of the Nayrs, or old nobles of Malabar (of the Khatre caste) they are not unfrequently cut down by his sword.
Composuit, legesque dedit.”
This gentleman, who died in 1783, civilised the savages of his district chiefly by trusting himself among them unarmed, stating his benevolent purpose, and making occasional presents to their wives and children. (Hodges, and Penn. ib.)
It is one of the objects of Hindu superstition, to be carried (if possible) when expiring, to the banks of the Ganges.
For a description of this immense pagoda, see Craufurd's ‘Sketches,’ I. 108, note. The mosque of Gazipour is the pride of Mahometan religious architecture.
LAURA.
When Laura first, with heavenly radiance bright,Beam'd in full lustre on my ravish'd sight,
Ere yet the wonder spake, I saw and loved—
What marble by such beauty were not moved!
But when, in tones as music soft and clear,
With nature's melody she charm'd mine ear,
Her tongue confirm'd the triumph of her eyes;
Who sees is wounded, but who listens dies.
TRAFALGAR.
(Hom.)
(Virg.)
Hark to yon bosom-rending groan!
The pæan that of victory,
And this the knell of Nelson gone!
Breathe, breathe the solemn note of woe:
Let transport now the heart employ,
Now let the tear for Nelson flow.
The light Gaul buoyant by his side:
—O'er them the ocean-wave has gush'd;
They sleep beneath the wintry tide.
Shall still to our remembrance rise;
Scene of our proudest costliest fame—
Where France is crush'd, and Nelson dies!
Shall England's flag o'er ocean sweep;
And still from every seaman's eye
Shall Nelson's trophies banish sleep.
Ring, ring, &c.
DIALOGUE I.
Παιγνιον.
Can Echo speak the tongue of every country?
Echo.
Try.
Te virginem si fortè poscam erotica?
Echo.
Ερω ταχα.
Ma si ti sopra il futuro questionerò?
Echo.
Ετεον ερω.
Et puis-je te parler sur des choses passées?
Echo.
Essaye.
Dic mihi quæso virum, vitiis cui tot bona parta: Echo Buonaparte.
Whom once Sir Sidney drove with shame from Acre.
Echo.
A cur!
T' unlock our India, France would make of Turkey—
Echo.
Her key.
Would she then seize Bombay, Madras, Bengal?
Echo.
All.
And did her chief fly Egypt, when most needed?
Echo.
He did.
Whom is he like, who thrives but by escaping?
Echo.
Scapin.
Croyez vous aux histoires, qu'en dit Denon?
Echo.
Non.
What are the arms, with which he now fights Britons?
Echo.
High tones.
Ususne in istius minis fuit aliquis?
Echo.
All a quiz!
Quid nobis iterat tanto hic jactator hiatu?
Echo.
“I hate you.”
Qu'il vienne aussitôt qu'il le veut, ce grand homme!
Echo.
A grand hum!
Nectit at ille moras, pelagusque horrere putatur!
Echo.
Peut-être.
You'd think him then mad, if his forces he march here?
Echo.
As a March hare.
Where does he wish those forces wafted over?
Echo.
To Dover.
Granted—what would they be, ere led to London?
Echo.
All undone.
Can George then thrash by land the Corsican?
Echo.
He can.
But what, if he should chance to meet our navy?
Echo.
Væ!
Τουτω γ' αρ' εχθρα γη τε και θαλασσ' εφυ;
Echo.
A few.
Atqui, ceu Xerxes, nostris fugere actus ab oris—
Echo.
A bore is.
And hence he swears, he'll ne'er again turn flyer.
Echo.
Liar!
How best shall England quell his high pretences?
Echo.
Paret enses.
Et qu'est ce qu'elle montrera, pour calmer cet inquiet?
Echo.
Εγχεα.
Ast unco ductus pœnas dabis, improbe, Gallis.
Echo.
Gallows.
E chi ti vedrà morto, “Ben gli sta” griderà.
Echo.
Agreed—Hurra!
DIALOGUE II.
Nec prior ipsa loqui potuit.
Again I call; sweet Maid, come echo me.
Echo.
Eccomi!
Tell me, of what consists the heart of Gaul:
Echo.
Of gall.
Her mad caprices in her ancient shape;
Echo.
Ape!
Her present taste, for blood and riot eager.
Echo.
Tigre!
Tell, of what God her sons are now the votaries;
Echo.
Αρης.
And whose before, so wolvish grown and ravenous:
Echo.
Venus.
Wretches, as changeful as the changing ocean!
Echo.
O chiens!
Au roi, qui les aimoit, ils ont frappé le cou—
Echo.
Πελεκκου.
Ma sotto i ré erano sempre allégri.
Echo.
All agree.
Τις δε τοσην αυτοις ενεπνευσ' Υπατου θρησκειαν;
Echo.
Cayenne.
Aliquid mali molitur in nos consilî:
Echo.
Silly!
Cumque illo miles Batavus conjurat amicè.
Echo.
Rot 'em, I say.
Where would his Brest fleet in our empire land?
Echo.
Ireland.
Αλλοθι δ' (ο γ' ηπειλ' εισβαλειν διηνεκως.
Echo.
En Ecosse.
Quisnam illum à Scotis manet exitus, auspice Moirâ?
Echo.
Μοιρα.
Spem forsan nullam, Moirâ ibi jam duce, habet!
Echo.
Deuce a bit.
Εις Αγγλικον δ'ηκειν ισως νοει τοδι.
Echo.
To die.
How best shall we 'scape this invasion's alarm?
Echo.
All arm.
Then, Englishmen, rush to the field, 'tis your duty:
Echo.
Δευτε.
Be no longer the dupes of an Amiens truce.
Echo.
Ruse!
(Ην δολος, ου φιλια: του δ'εκ φρενος ηλυθεν αντος;
Echo.
Otto's.)
Furem ego contundam, qui te rapere audet, agelle:
Echo.
To a jelly.
Angliaque externos facilè opprimet ipsa latrones.
Echo.
At her own ease.
And dost thou wish the throne restored by Moreau?
Echo.
Oro.
Then from his height falls dread Napoleon;
Echo.
Apollyon!
(Scilicet hunc Anglus vocat, hunc Hebræus Abaddon!
Echo.
A bad one.)
And then the world, now scared, will laugh at him:
Echo.
Affatim
Il reste donc à souhaiter, que la France lui désobeît.
Echo.
So be it!
ADDRESSED TO A LADY,
WITH A PRINT OF CORNELIA.
Ere tyrant Cæsars had unnerved the state;
Proud of her toilette's wealth, a modish Fair
The costly hoard to famed Cornelia bare:
And, having press'd it on her cold survey,
With conscious triumph claim'd a like display.
Soon as from school her boys, the Gracchi, came;
“Behold my jewels (cried the happy Dame):
“These are the gems a mother most should prize,
“These glitter brightest to maternal eyes.”
Her inmost soul confounded at the view,
The self-admonish'd visitant withdrew.
From such sprang patriots who, by toils untired,
Even to the last despotic sway defied;
And, vanquish'd in the noble conflict—died.
Blind to herself, would deem it flattery)
One who, Cornelia-like, each hour employs,
Sweet labour! 'mid the sphere of filial joys;
To courtiers leaves exhausted India's store,
And rich in living diamonds asks no more.
IMPROMPTU:
Spoken between the third and fourth Acts of Mrs. Cowley's Tragedy, entitled, ‘The Fall of Sparta.’
So great thy art—that, while we view'dOf Sparta's sons the lot severe,
We caught the Spartan fortitude,
And saw their woes—without a tear.
LINES Addressed to Lady Miller, on the Urn at Bath-Easton.
Miller, the Urn in ancient times ('tis said)Held the collected ashes of the dead:
So thine, the wonder of these modern days,
Stands open night and day for lifeless lays.
Leave not unfinish'd then the well-form'd plan,
Complete the work thy classic taste began;
And oh! in future, ere thou dost inurn 'em,
Remember first to raise a pile—and burn 'em.
PROLOGUE ON GENERAL WOLFE.
When great and little felt the common blow,And mingled sorrows o'er Æmilius low,
While funeral games the hero gone record,
Rome her lost favourite with these scenes deplored:
And who to-night shall view them re-appear,
Nor to our hero give as true a tear?
Where Phœbus darts his earliest, latest beam;
Even 'midst our very torrent triumphs springs
Some bitter tear, some lawful sorrowings.
If aught of fair contains the thirst of fame,
If genius, faith immutably the same,
If arduous laurels, and in youth's sweet prime
Valour and virtue cropt before their time—
If aught of fair in these, or lovely be,
That fair, that lovely, Wolfe, belongs to thee!
Nor diest thou all: for aye the wreath shall bloom,
Which weeping Britain hangs upon thy tomb:
The massive marble royal hands shall rear,
Destined thy glory's deathless tale to bear:
Thither in crowds shall England's heroes flow,
And from thy ashes catch a kindred glow;
While, as they read in victory's lap thy fall,
“Be such,” they cry, “our course—be such its goal.”
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