Poems on various subjects by Charles Lloyd |
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| XIV. |
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OSWALD, A POEM. |
 | Poems on various subjects |  |
67
OSWALD, A POEM.
The following Poem was written with intention to trace the possible effect of the present abuses of the social system, on a Youth more accustomed to feel than reason; who is doom'd, when his sentiments had been raised to a high toned enthusiasm, by contemplating the wildest features of Nature, through the magnifying medium of sensibility, to view, not only the effects of the selfish principle in others, but to feel himself its unfortunate victim.
[PART I.]
To paint the pangs of disappointed Worth,
To raise from infamy a blasted name,
To give to One, whose virtues felt on earth
The hopeless meed of cold, neglect, and shame,
(While Vice can swell the venal trump of Fame)
A humble tribute pure—Be Pity's task—
And tho' no Muse my artless numbers frame,
The surer aid of holy Truth I ask,
To snatch from virtuous Woe, Opinion's treach'rous mask.
To raise from infamy a blasted name,
To give to One, whose virtues felt on earth
The hopeless meed of cold, neglect, and shame,
(While Vice can swell the venal trump of Fame)
A humble tribute pure—Be Pity's task—
And tho' no Muse my artless numbers frame,
The surer aid of holy Truth I ask,
To snatch from virtuous Woe, Opinion's treach'rous mask.
And thou whose fate this uncouth verse would shew,
Oh! lend a while dear shade the feeling warm,
Impart that finer sense of soul that knew
To paint in Truth's bright hues, th'ideal form
That flits so swiftly with impetuous charm.—
For sure, tho' cold, in silent dust thou'rt laid,
That soul refin'd which felt each quick alarm,
Slumbers not senseless on the grave's dull bed;
But soars where erst on earth its glowing raptures led.
Oh! lend a while dear shade the feeling warm,
Impart that finer sense of soul that knew
To paint in Truth's bright hues, th'ideal form
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For sure, tho' cold, in silent dust thou'rt laid,
That soul refin'd which felt each quick alarm,
Slumbers not senseless on the grave's dull bed;
But soars where erst on earth its glowing raptures led.
Oswald, (for Oswald's fate demands the song)
Where first he enter'd life's delicious morn,
Saw Hope entice each smiling hour along,
And pluck'd the rose of Joy—without its thorn;
For him, by Fancy's flattering pencil drawn
Would countless charms awaken sweet surprize,
And oft by thought enthusiastic borne,
His glowing soul on Ardour's wing would rise
To snatch each finite bliss compleated in the skies.
Where first he enter'd life's delicious morn,
Saw Hope entice each smiling hour along,
And pluck'd the rose of Joy—without its thorn;
For him, by Fancy's flattering pencil drawn
Would countless charms awaken sweet surprize,
And oft by thought enthusiastic borne,
His glowing soul on Ardour's wing would rise
To snatch each finite bliss compleated in the skies.
The love of Nature warm'd his youthful breast,
Her varying forms his varying passions thrill'd;
Her rudest scenes, when peace was Oswald's guest,
His musing mind with high amazement fill'd:
And oh! what joy her softer charms could yield;
What perfect calm inspir'd the thought serene,
As on he wanders thro' the fertile field,
Where smiling plenty crowns the glowing scene,
And radient summer suns “diffuse their dazzling sheen.”
Her varying forms his varying passions thrill'd;
Her rudest scenes, when peace was Oswald's guest,
His musing mind with high amazement fill'd:
And oh! what joy her softer charms could yield;
What perfect calm inspir'd the thought serene,
As on he wanders thro' the fertile field,
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And radient summer suns “diffuse their dazzling sheen.”
Methinks I see him while the dewy morn
O'er every object throws her lust'rous grace,
Far from the town's disgusting din withdrawn,
With happy heart and animated face
The wildest features of the landscape trace—
Now up the breezy hill he loves to go
Where fragrant wild flowers peep with pearly face,
And curling grey mists silent sail and slow
Half-hiding many a hill that skirts the scene below.
O'er every object throws her lust'rous grace,
Far from the town's disgusting din withdrawn,
With happy heart and animated face
The wildest features of the landscape trace—
Now up the breezy hill he loves to go
Where fragrant wild flowers peep with pearly face,
And curling grey mists silent sail and slow
Half-hiding many a hill that skirts the scene below.
The rising sun now darts his vermeil ray
And feebly gilds the hill's enamell'd brow,
Now on the hanging grove, whence many a lay
Hails the fresh morn, Aurora's blushes glow:
The curling mists dispelling quickly, now
The beauties of the landscape burst to sight—
Unnumber'd streams with living waters flow,
The distant mountain shews its azure height,
The tuneful woods and meads with morning's smiles are bright.
And feebly gilds the hill's enamell'd brow,
Now on the hanging grove, whence many a lay
Hails the fresh morn, Aurora's blushes glow:
The curling mists dispelling quickly, now
The beauties of the landscape burst to sight—
Unnumber'd streams with living waters flow,
The distant mountain shews its azure height,
The tuneful woods and meads with morning's smiles are bright.
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Call'd to fresh life, with songs that pierce the skies
Glad nature hails the vivifying ray,
And countless melodies of rapture rise.—
The pipe's shrill tones,—the sky-lark's matin lay,
The blooming milk-maid's artless air so gay,
The hum of riv'lets murmuring all around,
The cooling gales that fan the infant day,
Low-whispering in the grove, unbid rebound,
Pure orisons of joy in many a choral sound.
Glad nature hails the vivifying ray,
And countless melodies of rapture rise.—
The pipe's shrill tones,—the sky-lark's matin lay,
The blooming milk-maid's artless air so gay,
The hum of riv'lets murmuring all around,
The cooling gales that fan the infant day,
Low-whispering in the grove, unbid rebound,
Pure orisons of joy in many a choral sound.
And when the proud Sun, from his flaming car,
Beams on the world with wide extended blaze,
Would youthful Oswald wander from afar
As o'er the world of waters dazzling plays
His living lustre.—While his glittering rays
Dance on the clear blue wave with trem'lous light,
And o'er the ocean wanton zephyr strays,
He'd watch the little bark with sail so white,
Faint in the horizon dim, scarce trembling to the sight.
Beams on the world with wide extended blaze,
Would youthful Oswald wander from afar
As o'er the world of waters dazzling plays
His living lustre.—While his glittering rays
Dance on the clear blue wave with trem'lous light,
And o'er the ocean wanton zephyr strays,
He'd watch the little bark with sail so white,
Faint in the horizon dim, scarce trembling to the sight.
Or as the meek and dubious hues of eve
The landscape veil'd to make it charm the more,
Would Oswald loiter where the lonely wave
With listless murmur lingers on the shore:
And oft he'd hearken as the distant oar
Is far and faintly heard, with liquid sound,
While twilight's thick'ning shades steal softly o'er,
And scarce the faintly mark'd horizon, round
The tender beauteous blush of parting day is found.
The landscape veil'd to make it charm the more,
Would Oswald loiter where the lonely wave
With listless murmur lingers on the shore:
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Is far and faintly heard, with liquid sound,
While twilight's thick'ning shades steal softly o'er,
And scarce the faintly mark'd horizon, round
The tender beauteous blush of parting day is found.
Now thro' the dusk the white sail gently gleams,
The distant coast is sinking from the sight,
The little planet scarcely-twinkling beams,
And from some rugged promontory's height,
The lonely beacon casts a trembling light—
Each object dies—When lo! a globe of fire,
The crimson moon steals on the vault of night
From the dark wave—then slowly mounting higher,
She faintly gilds the main as day's last tints expire.
The distant coast is sinking from the sight,
The little planet scarcely-twinkling beams,
And from some rugged promontory's height,
The lonely beacon casts a trembling light—
Each object dies—When lo! a globe of fire,
The crimson moon steals on the vault of night
From the dark wave—then slowly mounting higher,
She faintly gilds the main as day's last tints expire.
Now her soft beams on every object play,
And brightly-mutable the wave along,
Trembles her pale and sorrow-soothing ray—
And now yon wild impending woods among
Some melancholy plaint or mystic song
Would sweetly linger on “the night's dull ear;”
For haunts like these to fairy forms belong,
Whose magic notes, when no rude foot is near,
Aspire on viewless gales to many a tuneful sphere.
And brightly-mutable the wave along,
Trembles her pale and sorrow-soothing ray—
And now yon wild impending woods among
Some melancholy plaint or mystic song
Would sweetly linger on “the night's dull ear;”
For haunts like these to fairy forms belong,
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Aspire on viewless gales to many a tuneful sphere.
Such scenes as these could give the peaceful thought,
And with an holy calm his bosom fill,
Yet other prospects oft th'enthusiast sought,
Whose hoary grandeur woke the trembling thrill,
Where forms of Terrour half appall'd the will:—
Oft would he climb some solitary tower
Pil'd on the hanging cliff's rude point,—and still
As the winds rave, and sullen tempests lower,
He'd call up phantoms, dire of melancholy power.
And with an holy calm his bosom fill,
Yet other prospects oft th'enthusiast sought,
Whose hoary grandeur woke the trembling thrill,
Where forms of Terrour half appall'd the will:—
Oft would he climb some solitary tower
Pil'd on the hanging cliff's rude point,—and still
As the winds rave, and sullen tempests lower,
He'd call up phantoms, dire of melancholy power.
The sulph'rous cloud rolls silent at his feet,
Fancy alone, the scene beneath can know,
Where rude and loud the restless billows beat,
Dashing the rocks that tremble as they flow.
The wintry winds in gusts resistless blow,
The ruin totters,—fragments hugely rude
Swept by the bleak blasts' fury leap below,
And as they madly plunge th'infuriate flood,
Danger awaking scowls with Fear's infernal brood.
Fancy alone, the scene beneath can know,
Where rude and loud the restless billows beat,
Dashing the rocks that tremble as they flow.
The wintry winds in gusts resistless blow,
The ruin totters,—fragments hugely rude
Swept by the bleak blasts' fury leap below,
And as they madly plunge th'infuriate flood,
Danger awaking scowls with Fear's infernal brood.
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Nor would the night restrain his feet to seek
The dizzy height, when thro' the black'ning cloud
The moon's chill beams at short intervals break,
And tempests howl, and billows sob aloud:
He'd climb where lonely frowns the ruin proud,
And while the walls among the wild winds roar,
Sometimes a sudden ray its grey towers shew'd—
Then pitchy clouds the pale orb sailing o'er
From night's tempestuous sky she fades—to shine no more.
The dizzy height, when thro' the black'ning cloud
The moon's chill beams at short intervals break,
And tempests howl, and billows sob aloud:
He'd climb where lonely frowns the ruin proud,
And while the walls among the wild winds roar,
Sometimes a sudden ray its grey towers shew'd—
Then pitchy clouds the pale orb sailing o'er
From night's tempestuous sky she fades—to shine no more.
And when the moon was gone from mortal eye,
He'd often watch the light'nings livid flame
Dart swiftly through the horrour-troubled sky,—
Now with resounding groan the thunder came
To shake Creation's universal frame;—
The deep winds dully pause,—the big waves swell
Their silent heads,—Stillness, whose terrors shame
The direst sounds, with thickest night would dwell,
And Nature shrouds her face in deepest shades of hell.
He'd often watch the light'nings livid flame
Dart swiftly through the horrour-troubled sky,—
Now with resounding groan the thunder came
To shake Creation's universal frame;—
The deep winds dully pause,—the big waves swell
Their silent heads,—Stillness, whose terrors shame
The direst sounds, with thickest night would dwell,
And Nature shrouds her face in deepest shades of hell.
Then would he cherish the untutor'd dream
Of waking fancy,—then the magic tale
Fraught with black circumstance would be his theme;
The unexplor'd, the dark mysterious cell,
The haunted hall—The thought-suspending yell,
From dungeon deep where sheeted spectres reign,
The wondrous magic of the potent spell,
The dying groan,—the sullen clanking chain,
And pale blue quiv'ring lamp that lights the dull domain.
Of waking fancy,—then the magic tale
Fraught with black circumstance would be his theme;
The unexplor'd, the dark mysterious cell,
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From dungeon deep where sheeted spectres reign,
The wondrous magic of the potent spell,
The dying groan,—the sullen clanking chain,
And pale blue quiv'ring lamp that lights the dull domain.
The phantoms fly,—the shades of night are o'er,
And the grey dawn and other thoughts succeed;
Thro' breaking clouds he kens the distant shore,
Where the huge billow curls its foamy head.—
Or while the clouds departing, darkly shade
The melancholy main, afar he eyes
The white waves breaking on their troubled bed,
As with impetuous force they madly rise,
And furious fling their foam amid tempestuous skies.
And the grey dawn and other thoughts succeed;
Thro' breaking clouds he kens the distant shore,
Where the huge billow curls its foamy head.—
Or while the clouds departing, darkly shade
The melancholy main, afar he eyes
The white waves breaking on their troubled bed,
As with impetuous force they madly rise,
And furious fling their foam amid tempestuous skies.
Thus varying scenes his varying feelings thrill'd,
Thus every passion nurs'd by nature mild,
With warmest energy his bosom fill'd:—
Now would he prove a calm, serene and mild—
Now would his heart, by sympathy beguil'd,
In tenderest pity melt,—the tear would flow;
Then leaving every scene where beauty smil'd,
Where wildest forms are seen he'd love to go,
And court the phrensied trance, and wake the throb of woe.
Thus every passion nurs'd by nature mild,
With warmest energy his bosom fill'd:—
Now would he prove a calm, serene and mild—
Now would his heart, by sympathy beguil'd,
In tenderest pity melt,—the tear would flow;
Then leaving every scene where beauty smil'd,
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And court the phrensied trance, and wake the throb of woe.
Yet tho' his mind the charms of nature felt,
Still more he lov'd each moral feeling dear,
In his young bosom warm affection dwelt,
And Virtue found a sure asylum there:
Oft would he anxious wipe the falling tear
From Grief's pale cheek,—and at the face of Joy
His heart would beat in wild vibrations,—Care
Would oft his fondly-cherish'd hopes annoy,
Yet soon would Fancy's fire her wizard spell destroy.
Still more he lov'd each moral feeling dear,
In his young bosom warm affection dwelt,
And Virtue found a sure asylum there:
Oft would he anxious wipe the falling tear
From Grief's pale cheek,—and at the face of Joy
His heart would beat in wild vibrations,—Care
Would oft his fondly-cherish'd hopes annoy,
Yet soon would Fancy's fire her wizard spell destroy.
And well he knew to feel the glow of love,
(That best affection of the youthful soul)
It cares, its hopes, its fears, he oft would prove
In tides alternate thro' his breast to roll.
Oft would the impassion'd look defy controul,
Oft would expression flush his glowing cheek,
When beauty's form o'er all his senses stole,
Sometimes with pensive lustre chastely meek,
Now bright as the orient beam when day's warm blushes break.
(That best affection of the youthful soul)
It cares, its hopes, its fears, he oft would prove
In tides alternate thro' his breast to roll.
Oft would the impassion'd look defy controul,
Oft would expression flush his glowing cheek,
When beauty's form o'er all his senses stole,
Sometimes with pensive lustre chastely meek,
Now bright as the orient beam when day's warm blushes break.
76
And oft Religion's holy ardour bore,
His soul refin'd to scenes where all are blest;
“There,” would he say, “the wretch shall sigh no more,
There shall the weary find a welcome rest;
There shall that Being who directs us best,
For ever blest with inexpressive joy,
The virtuous effort,—Worth below opprest;—
There bliss shall ever glisten in the eye—
And Gratitude be mute, o'ercome with ecstacy.”
His soul refin'd to scenes where all are blest;
“There,” would he say, “the wretch shall sigh no more,
There shall the weary find a welcome rest;
There shall that Being who directs us best,
For ever blest with inexpressive joy,
The virtuous effort,—Worth below opprest;—
There bliss shall ever glisten in the eye—
And Gratitude be mute, o'ercome with ecstacy.”
Such thoughts could animate thy useful hours,
Such joys thy bosom once could prove full well,
Oh thou! whose heaven-taught intellectual powers
Weaken'd by woes—deprest by arts of hell
From Glory's height, to Ruin's abyss fell!
Thou once wert happy—but how soon 'twas o'er!
Hope once was thine—she bade a long farewel!
Till unassisted on Misfortune's shore
Thy little bark was wreck'd, was wreck'd—to rise no more.
Such joys thy bosom once could prove full well,
Oh thou! whose heaven-taught intellectual powers
Weaken'd by woes—deprest by arts of hell
From Glory's height, to Ruin's abyss fell!
Thou once wert happy—but how soon 'twas o'er!
Hope once was thine—she bade a long farewel!
Till unassisted on Misfortune's shore
Thy little bark was wreck'd, was wreck'd—to rise no more.
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PART II.
Oh thou, Most High, who gav'st us being here,
Sure thou design'dst those feelings of the soul,
The social wish, the soft affection dear,
Religion's holy ardour, to controul
Despair's keen pangs, when Grief's wild billows roll:
Charms to the native mind with comfort fraught,
That mind were surely given to console.—
Let execration wait the art that taught
To weave the sophist web, and chill the excursive thought.
Sure thou design'dst those feelings of the soul,
The social wish, the soft affection dear,
Religion's holy ardour, to controul
Despair's keen pangs, when Grief's wild billows roll:
Charms to the native mind with comfort fraught,
That mind were surely given to console.—
Let execration wait the art that taught
To weave the sophist web, and chill the excursive thought.
Oswald look'd forward to delight on earth,
(For sure a well spent life delight should give)
And Hope, which calls each pleasing thought to birth,
Whisper'd his trusting soul that he should live
In happier scenes eternal;—to receive
The immortal recompense of virtuous deed;
Yet when he saw Worth, unprotected strive
With Insolence and Wealth, his heart would bleed
To view the poor man fall, and none to intercede.
(For sure a well spent life delight should give)
And Hope, which calls each pleasing thought to birth,
Whisper'd his trusting soul that he should live
In happier scenes eternal;—to receive
The immortal recompense of virtuous deed;
Yet when he saw Worth, unprotected strive
With Insolence and Wealth, his heart would bleed
To view the poor man fall, and none to intercede.
78
Till late he'd wander'd in the lonely scene,
Far from the impure, the unhallow'd haunts of man,
And now his soul which prov'd each feeling keen,
Would oft with shuddering indignation scan
The dark abuses of the social plan!—
(Social misnam'd—unsocial, selfish, base!)
And oft the keen throb thro' each fibre ran
As he beheld the ensanguin'd Tyrant chase,
His helpless, hapless equals of the human race.
Far from the impure, the unhallow'd haunts of man,
And now his soul which prov'd each feeling keen,
Would oft with shuddering indignation scan
The dark abuses of the social plan!—
(Social misnam'd—unsocial, selfish, base!)
And oft the keen throb thro' each fibre ran
As he beheld the ensanguin'd Tyrant chase,
His helpless, hapless equals of the human race.
“Where are the ties of fellowship and love?
Where is the wish that ought to bind in one,
The brother race?—Whom hopes congenial move,
Who equal moral powers and feelings own,
Whom kindred pains and pleasure oft have shewn
An equal share of comfort form'd to feel:—
Why do the supercilious rich alone
Engross kind Nature's gifts, whose looks conceal
The dark tyrannic thought, the harden'd heart of steel?
Where is the wish that ought to bind in one,
The brother race?—Whom hopes congenial move,
Who equal moral powers and feelings own,
Whom kindred pains and pleasure oft have shewn
An equal share of comfort form'd to feel:—
Why do the supercilious rich alone
Engross kind Nature's gifts, whose looks conceal
The dark tyrannic thought, the harden'd heart of steel?
The wretch that basks in Fortune's fav'ring smile,
Yet breathes contagion on the scene around,
Shall he be blest with peace, and Worth, the while
Feel the keen anguish of Misfortune's wound?
Has partial Heaven bestow'd the teeming ground,
And luscious fruits, to bless the little great,
While all the rest in galling slavery bound
Contrast as foils th'insulting pomp of state,
And kiss the tyrant hand that deals the curse of fate?
Yet breathes contagion on the scene around,
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Feel the keen anguish of Misfortune's wound?
Has partial Heaven bestow'd the teeming ground,
And luscious fruits, to bless the little great,
While all the rest in galling slavery bound
Contrast as foils th'insulting pomp of state,
And kiss the tyrant hand that deals the curse of fate?
Yes, so it is!—and man, whose boundless love
Embraces worlds,—whose energies of mind
Can scale the skies,—omnipotent can prove.—
Man sinks to hapless impotence resign'd!
He ever weeps—who feels the smile refin'd!
He who can love—indulges hate and lust!
He who to help his brother was design'd,
Unfeeling treads that brother in the dust!
The soul that music thrills—the shrieks of War's disgust!
Embraces worlds,—whose energies of mind
Can scale the skies,—omnipotent can prove.—
Man sinks to hapless impotence resign'd!
He ever weeps—who feels the smile refin'd!
He who can love—indulges hate and lust!
He who to help his brother was design'd,
Unfeeling treads that brother in the dust!
The soul that music thrills—the shrieks of War's disgust!
His breast with sadd'ning disappointment torn,
Oswald survey'd the dark mysterious scene,
And not alone, alas! he learns to mourn
In public life these rude disasters keen.—
His Friend (for friendship's balmy joy serene,
He fondly thought would soothe his wearied heart)
With whom he'd shar'd and soften'd every pain,
Corrupted by the world, with selfish art,
Of base Ingratitude, inflicts the deadly smart.
Oswald survey'd the dark mysterious scene,
And not alone, alas! he learns to mourn
In public life these rude disasters keen.—
80
He fondly thought would soothe his wearied heart)
With whom he'd shar'd and soften'd every pain,
Corrupted by the world, with selfish art,
Of base Ingratitude, inflicts the deadly smart.
And Love, that ought to bind the wound of care,
She frowns—and Oswald's heart was doom'd to bleed,
He prov'd that Worth can ne'er avert Despair,
He prov'd that Virtue's voice in vain must plead,
If Wealth, her substitute, lend not her aid!
Thus, all his best and first affections cross'd,
Deserted, curs'd by Honesty and Need,
He sunk on life's rough ocean, rudely toss'd,
No star of joy to guide—and Hope's firm anchor lost.
She frowns—and Oswald's heart was doom'd to bleed,
He prov'd that Worth can ne'er avert Despair,
He prov'd that Virtue's voice in vain must plead,
If Wealth, her substitute, lend not her aid!
Thus, all his best and first affections cross'd,
Deserted, curs'd by Honesty and Need,
He sunk on life's rough ocean, rudely toss'd,
No star of joy to guide—and Hope's firm anchor lost.
Yet still on this tempestuous scene of woe,
A ray of comfort darting from above,
Would to his soul a transient calm bestow:—
Religion's joys his bosom still could prove,
And oft as faith and resignation move
The thought harmonious—he would still forget
(Soaring to heaven on the wings of Love)
The sad misfortunes of resistless Fate.—
“For other joys are mine, and peace my portion yet.”
A ray of comfort darting from above,
Would to his soul a transient calm bestow:—
Religion's joys his bosom still could prove,
And oft as faith and resignation move
The thought harmonious—he would still forget
(Soaring to heaven on the wings of Love)
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“For other joys are mine, and peace my portion yet.”
Thus thro' the cloud of Sorrow and Distress,
A feebly soothing beam would sometimes dart,
To charm the memory of lost happiness,
That ever rankled in his weary heart.—
But soon alas! the Sophist's deadly art,
Chill'd each remaining faculty of mind,—
Doubt and Despair each balmy comfort thwart
That Misery's fell train had left behind:—
“The chaos dark to cheer” no lenient lustre shin'd.
A feebly soothing beam would sometimes dart,
To charm the memory of lost happiness,
That ever rankled in his weary heart.—
But soon alas! the Sophist's deadly art,
Chill'd each remaining faculty of mind,—
Doubt and Despair each balmy comfort thwart
That Misery's fell train had left behind:—
“The chaos dark to cheer” no lenient lustre shin'd.
Hope, sweet Consoler of the troubled breast!
Who smil'st serenely 'mid each threat'ning storm!
When thou, alas! no longer art our guest,
Where shall we shelter from each rude alarm,
Doom'd all our moral vigour to disarm.—
Ah, where could Oswald fly!—He'd lost thy ray—
He'd lost of life each visionary charm,—
And nought appear'd in Fate's dejecting way,
But whelming floods of grief, and clouds of dark dismay.
Who smil'st serenely 'mid each threat'ning storm!
When thou, alas! no longer art our guest,
Where shall we shelter from each rude alarm,
Doom'd all our moral vigour to disarm.—
Ah, where could Oswald fly!—He'd lost thy ray—
He'd lost of life each visionary charm,—
And nought appear'd in Fate's dejecting way,
But whelming floods of grief, and clouds of dark dismay.
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For much he scorn'd to use each meaner art
To bribe the uncertain voice of partial Fame,
And much he scorn'd, with avaritious heart
To seek for honour in the path of shame.—
To enroll 'mid worldlings base his tainted name:—
Thus, in his soul with dreams romantic fraught,
“Chill Penury” repress'd the rapturous flame,
And sceptic Doubt, and check'd Affection brought,
While Vice can bathe in bliss, to him the freezing thought.
To bribe the uncertain voice of partial Fame,
And much he scorn'd, with avaritious heart
To seek for honour in the path of shame.—
To enroll 'mid worldlings base his tainted name:—
Thus, in his soul with dreams romantic fraught,
“Chill Penury” repress'd the rapturous flame,
And sceptic Doubt, and check'd Affection brought,
While Vice can bathe in bliss, to him the freezing thought.
As when the tempest raging from afar,
Wages, resistless, thro' the affrighted vale
An elementary, disastrous war:—
And clouds o'er clouds in wild disorder sail.
If chance a violet low, or primrose pale,
Spring where the river's foamy waters rise,
It yields o'erpower'd;—while the wintry gale,
And beating waves the stubborn oak defies,
And in contemptuous pomp, spreads proudly to the skies.
Wages, resistless, thro' the affrighted vale
An elementary, disastrous war:—
And clouds o'er clouds in wild disorder sail.
If chance a violet low, or primrose pale,
Spring where the river's foamy waters rise,
It yields o'erpower'd;—while the wintry gale,
And beating waves the stubborn oak defies,
And in contemptuous pomp, spreads proudly to the skies.
So 'mid surrounding storms and tempest dire,
The impending ruin, Wealth and Power can mock,
While borne by crouching miriads they aspire
Like Gods to brave e'en Death's infuriate shock,
And frown insulting as the scowling rock;—
Yet sensate Virtue yields to Fortune's spell,
And every fiend of fate is doom'd to unlock
Reflection's secret phantom-teeming cell,
To wake the mental storm, and sink the soul to hell.
The impending ruin, Wealth and Power can mock,
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Like Gods to brave e'en Death's infuriate shock,
And frown insulting as the scowling rock;—
Yet sensate Virtue yields to Fortune's spell,
And every fiend of fate is doom'd to unlock
Reflection's secret phantom-teeming cell,
To wake the mental storm, and sink the soul to hell.
So Oswald (he who lately could enjoy
The enliv'ning charm of Nature's smiling views,
He, who while genius glisten'd in his eye,
Could sweetly wander with the inspiring muse:)
Is doom'd to feel;—'till overwhelm'd with woes,
He sinks in sullen impotence of mind:
In vain the morn displays her roseate hues,
In vain the meek eve wakes the charm refin'd,
Oswald is doom'd in each a ceaseless blank to find.
The enliv'ning charm of Nature's smiling views,
He, who while genius glisten'd in his eye,
Could sweetly wander with the inspiring muse:)
Is doom'd to feel;—'till overwhelm'd with woes,
He sinks in sullen impotence of mind:
In vain the morn displays her roseate hues,
In vain the meek eve wakes the charm refin'd,
Oswald is doom'd in each a ceaseless blank to find.
Is this thy boast oh Vice! thus to have spoil'd
With enervating art the Good and Great?
Shall Doubt triumphant, (every hope exil'd)
Blacken with deadly hues the page of Fate,
Nor the worn victim Pity's throb await?
Oh no! the venial error should we blame
Compassion's tear shall rue the mournful state,
While undisguis'd Religion shall disclaim
The abuses of her power, the deeds that blur her name.
With enervating art the Good and Great?
Shall Doubt triumphant, (every hope exil'd)
Blacken with deadly hues the page of Fate,
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Oh no! the venial error should we blame
Compassion's tear shall rue the mournful state,
While undisguis'd Religion shall disclaim
The abuses of her power, the deeds that blur her name.
The pharisaic cant—from perjur'd lips,
Creeds of salvation—from a faithless saint,
From him who ne'er one moral maxim keeps
The penitential rule, and proverb quaint:
Men, with the gospel's peaceful tidings sent
Are only lavish in damnation's threat,—
Thus, while Religion's prankt in pomp and pain,
Her votaries Virtue's banish'd claims forget,
And she appears at best, a tinsel toy of state.
Creeds of salvation—from a faithless saint,
From him who ne'er one moral maxim keeps
The penitential rule, and proverb quaint:
Men, with the gospel's peaceful tidings sent
Are only lavish in damnation's threat,—
Thus, while Religion's prankt in pomp and pain,
Her votaries Virtue's banish'd claims forget,
And she appears at best, a tinsel toy of state.
Poor Oswald wand'ring from the distant vale,
Beheld the chaos of the moral plan;
“If Error thus” said he, “must still prevail,—
If man must ever be the dupe of man,—
Oh! let me cease the dismal scene to scan!
For I can ne'er avail to check the tide
Of Luxury and Woe;—since I began
To tread the busy path, fell Ruin wide
O'er every rueful view, and ravag'd scene I've spied.”
Beheld the chaos of the moral plan;
“If Error thus” said he, “must still prevail,—
If man must ever be the dupe of man,—
Oh! let me cease the dismal scene to scan!
For I can ne'er avail to check the tide
Of Luxury and Woe;—since I began
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O'er every rueful view, and ravag'd scene I've spied.”
“My friend is gone!—my heart's fond wish is o'er!
Unheeded Poverty (Opinion's shame)
With patience meek my harrass'd bosom bore!—
Oft have I felt the insulting threat of blame
From Wealth inflated with the blast of Fame!—
But now e'en Hope's sustaining arm is gone,
(Virtue's a farce, Religion's but a name)
And sad I rove unheeded and alone,
While Heav'n's averted ear is deafen'd to my moan.”
Unheeded Poverty (Opinion's shame)
With patience meek my harrass'd bosom bore!—
Oft have I felt the insulting threat of blame
From Wealth inflated with the blast of Fame!—
But now e'en Hope's sustaining arm is gone,
(Virtue's a farce, Religion's but a name)
And sad I rove unheeded and alone,
While Heav'n's averted ear is deafen'd to my moan.”
“Then what avails it still to linger here,
Chill'd by the blasting gaze of fell Despair,
If I could dry a Brother's falling tear,
Or bid the glow of Hope, the sportive air,
Once more adorn the fading form of Care,
Still might I pine in Life's mysterious round!—
But no! it cannot be! Truth shall declare
That joy once lost shall ne'er again be found!—
Peace is the child of Death,—Oblivion seals his wound!”
Chill'd by the blasting gaze of fell Despair,
If I could dry a Brother's falling tear,
Or bid the glow of Hope, the sportive air,
Once more adorn the fading form of Care,
Still might I pine in Life's mysterious round!—
But no! it cannot be! Truth shall declare
That joy once lost shall ne'er again be found!—
Peace is the child of Death,—Oblivion seals his wound!”
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Then didst thou triumph, Vice! for Oswald fell!
Insects of Pride, ephemeron flutters blush!
Despis'd, dejected, wrong'd by arts of hell,
Misfortune's weight could virtuous Oswald crush!
And you, mean while, satanic joys can flush,
Proud in the impious pomp of wealth and sin!—
And while on Glory's car ye madly rush
Terrific suicide with weapon keen,
Pierc'd deep that virtuous heart, that soul-expressing mien.
Insects of Pride, ephemeron flutters blush!
Despis'd, dejected, wrong'd by arts of hell,
Misfortune's weight could virtuous Oswald crush!
And you, mean while, satanic joys can flush,
Proud in the impious pomp of wealth and sin!—
And while on Glory's car ye madly rush
Terrific suicide with weapon keen,
Pierc'd deep that virtuous heart, that soul-expressing mien.
And now consign'd to obloquy and scorn,
Oswald's condemn'd to Fate's oblivious gloom,
And scarce the twisted twig, or turf forlorn
Betray to Pity's eye his nameless tomb;—
Yet sure more proud his melancholy doom,
Than that which waits Deception's souless slave,
I'd sooner fade with Virtue's timid bloom,
Droop like the violet o'er an unknown grave,
Than with the weeds of Vice in wide luxuriance wave.
Oswald's condemn'd to Fate's oblivious gloom,
And scarce the twisted twig, or turf forlorn
Betray to Pity's eye his nameless tomb;—
Yet sure more proud his melancholy doom,
Than that which waits Deception's souless slave,
I'd sooner fade with Virtue's timid bloom,
Droop like the violet o'er an unknown grave,
Than with the weeds of Vice in wide luxuriance wave.
And oh! the feelings of indignant Worth,
Must e'er, alas! be disappointed here,
Here, Virtue unadorn'd with wealth and birth,
Shall find no friend Life's dreary road to cheer,
No social smile to soothe its toils severe:—
Religion, thou the surest friend below,
Thy charms disguis'd such sullen aspect wear,
That e'en the wretch that lies immers'd in woe,
To ask thy sovereign aid, is doubtful where to go.
Must e'er, alas! be disappointed here,
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Shall find no friend Life's dreary road to cheer,
No social smile to soothe its toils severe:—
Religion, thou the surest friend below,
Thy charms disguis'd such sullen aspect wear,
That e'en the wretch that lies immers'd in woe,
To ask thy sovereign aid, is doubtful where to go.
Oh! may the clouds that veil the moral world
Be swift dispell'd by Truth's resistless day!—
May Liberty's high standard be unfurl'd,
And may mankind with one consent obey
The Rule of Reason, not the uncertain sway
Of mortal power!—May they gladly join
To hail Benevolence, thy genial ray!—
Then, if perchance another Oswald shine,
That Worth that prov'd a curse—the world shall deem divine.
Be swift dispell'd by Truth's resistless day!—
May Liberty's high standard be unfurl'd,
And may mankind with one consent obey
The Rule of Reason, not the uncertain sway
Of mortal power!—May they gladly join
To hail Benevolence, thy genial ray!—
Then, if perchance another Oswald shine,
That Worth that prov'd a curse—the world shall deem divine.
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| Poems on various subjects | |