The miscellaneous works and novels of R. C. Dallas ... In seven volumes. A new edition |
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KIRKSTALL ABBEY:
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| XIII. |
 | The miscellaneous works and novels of R. C. Dallas |  |
221
KIRKSTALL ABBEY:
Written on the spot, on the Author's birth-day, June 14th.
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Primâ dicte, mihi, summa dicende Camœna.
To find a God, no need have we to shun
The busy town, or seek the mouldering pile,
Or devious ramble by the stream or wood:
The wood, the stream, the solitary pile,
The busy town, nature and art alike,
All, all the great pervading mind proclaim.
E'en this sad bosom owns the here divine;
Now humbly trembling for the faulty shrine,
Now swell'd to virtue, glorifying God.
The busy town, or seek the mouldering pile,
Or devious ramble by the stream or wood:
The wood, the stream, the solitary pile,
The busy town, nature and art alike,
All, all the great pervading mind proclaim.
E'en this sad bosom owns the here divine;
Now humbly trembling for the faulty shrine,
Now swell'd to virtue, glorifying God.
Yet Fancy too, of pleasure and of pain
Alike the ready minister, delights to strike
With varied touch the chords of human hearts;
Impelling these to raise the mingled song,
And those to breathe the silent hallelujah:
Silent alone to sense's grosser organ,
Not less distinguish'd in the symphony,
That bears the glory to the God on high.
Nor is the mingled chorus shunn'd by me,
Tho' Fancy cheer with rural scenes. I love
To trace the streamlet: on the turf to sit,
And rapt by nature, meditate her source.
The wood that plumes the water, and the ruin
Of a solitary abbey full mantled,
As oft by poets sung, with verdant ivy;
The varied arch, pointed or circular,
A sky serene, the calm of solitude,
Impress my soul with dignity of thought,
And lift it to its sacred fount sublime.
Alike the ready minister, delights to strike
With varied touch the chords of human hearts;
Impelling these to raise the mingled song,
And those to breathe the silent hallelujah:
Silent alone to sense's grosser organ,
Not less distinguish'd in the symphony,
That bears the glory to the God on high.
Nor is the mingled chorus shunn'd by me,
Tho' Fancy cheer with rural scenes. I love
223
And rapt by nature, meditate her source.
The wood that plumes the water, and the ruin
Of a solitary abbey full mantled,
As oft by poets sung, with verdant ivy;
The varied arch, pointed or circular,
A sky serene, the calm of solitude,
Impress my soul with dignity of thought,
And lift it to its sacred fount sublime.
Lone by the glassy Aire, whose winding banks
Bring many a pleasing prospect to the eye,
My steps I bend to where De Lacy's hand
Laid the first stone whence Kirkstall's Abbey rose
In gratitude to heaven for health restor'd.
Eternal Source of all that's fair and good!
Fountain of health and love! God of all joy!
Who friendship's balm and love's in mercy gave
To solace and to cheer the days of man,
Oh! health restore to her who comforts mine!
Whose virtues animate, whose love inspires;
And tho' I bid no fane majestic rise
O'er gothic arches, sublunary meed!
Temples more fair I build, more nobly great,
Than from the lifeless quarry man e'er wrought:
With ceaseless zeal I'll labour to complete
And fashion these, to dedicate to Thee.
Thy Abbey, Lacy! in its proudest hour,
Ne'er to celestial spirits gave a joy
Like that which rises from a well-form'd mind:
Nor could thy health of greater import prove
Than my Eugenia's, whether she display
The mother's noble part, or give to me
The heav'nly blessings of a faithful love.
Bring many a pleasing prospect to the eye,
My steps I bend to where De Lacy's hand
Laid the first stone whence Kirkstall's Abbey rose
In gratitude to heaven for health restor'd.
Eternal Source of all that's fair and good!
Fountain of health and love! God of all joy!
Who friendship's balm and love's in mercy gave
To solace and to cheer the days of man,
Oh! health restore to her who comforts mine!
Whose virtues animate, whose love inspires;
And tho' I bid no fane majestic rise
O'er gothic arches, sublunary meed!
Temples more fair I build, more nobly great,
Than from the lifeless quarry man e'er wrought:
With ceaseless zeal I'll labour to complete
And fashion these, to dedicate to Thee.
Thy Abbey, Lacy! in its proudest hour,
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Like that which rises from a well-form'd mind:
Nor could thy health of greater import prove
Than my Eugenia's, whether she display
The mother's noble part, or give to me
The heav'nly blessings of a faithful love.
Now to the pole, thou half dissolved tower!
Thy shade is thrown by Phœbus' mid-day beams:
Here let me cast my frame along, here press
The turf where sad Turgesius wept and groan'd,
Erroneous deeming torment to be zeal.
But let my heart his gloomy impulse shun,
While at the throne of grace its chambers ope,
And memory displays the long account.
Thy shade is thrown by Phœbus' mid-day beams:
Here let me cast my frame along, here press
The turf where sad Turgesius wept and groan'd,
Erroneous deeming torment to be zeal.
But let my heart his gloomy impulse shun,
While at the throne of grace its chambers ope,
And memory displays the long account.
Oh! solemn awful pause!—The soul sincere
Minutely scans the page of life, that page
Where vice or virtue strikes the balanc'd line
To damn a devil, or an angel bless.
Hush then, my Muse! let fancy not arrest
The awful search of earnest memory:
Be lull'd thy ardour for a sacred hour,
And leave me wholly to my life and God.
Minutely scans the page of life, that page
Where vice or virtue strikes the balanc'd line
To damn a devil, or an angel bless.
Hush then, my Muse! let fancy not arrest
The awful search of earnest memory:
Be lull'd thy ardour for a sacred hour,
And leave me wholly to my life and God.
Oh! solemn pause! from which abash'd I rise,
Nor dare to justify to sight divine,
The egregious frailties of a mingled life.
Nor dare to justify to sight divine,
The egregious frailties of a mingled life.
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Now to his northern bounds the sun draws nigh,
And presently completes his polar course;
Then downward to the line of Capricorn
He bends, revisiting the hapless climes
Where the best boons of nature man destroys;
Where earth profusely teems, but slavery reigns,
And the sear'd mind forgets the Christian lore.
And presently completes his polar course;
Then downward to the line of Capricorn
He bends, revisiting the hapless climes
Where the best boons of nature man destroys;
Where earth profusely teems, but slavery reigns,
And the sear'd mind forgets the Christian lore.
Yes! I forsook your scorch'd savannahs; fled
Your tangled forests, and your torrent rains,
Your quicksands, tempests, and tornadoes dire,
Your cloud-capt mountains quaking to their tops,
Your fever'd fountains, and your forked fires,
Your sharks, your snakes, your scorpions; the whole train
Of venom and voracity: but chief
The lash's echo, that proclaims a stream
Of human blood, through quiv'ring vessels drawn.
Yes! I forsook them: never did my eye
Gloat on the glittering dust that blinds the soul,
And sheds false radiance on deformity.
With little skill and less desire to heap,
I daily sicken'd at the ills around me.
Yes! I forsook them: wealth, the mighty spur,
Could never goad me to the general course,
Nor could the syrup of an Indian fruit,
Nor all the dainties of a tropic board,
E'er stifle sighs that in my bosom heav'd
For mental food; philosophy, and God.
Your tangled forests, and your torrent rains,
Your quicksands, tempests, and tornadoes dire,
Your cloud-capt mountains quaking to their tops,
Your fever'd fountains, and your forked fires,
Your sharks, your snakes, your scorpions; the whole train
Of venom and voracity: but chief
The lash's echo, that proclaims a stream
Of human blood, through quiv'ring vessels drawn.
Yes! I forsook them: never did my eye
Gloat on the glittering dust that blinds the soul,
And sheds false radiance on deformity.
With little skill and less desire to heap,
I daily sicken'd at the ills around me.
Yes! I forsook them: wealth, the mighty spur,
Could never goad me to the general course,
Nor could the syrup of an Indian fruit,
Nor all the dainties of a tropic board,
226
For mental food; philosophy, and God.
Yes! I forsook them! and my mind swells high
With conscious grandeur at the daring act.
What though I threw aside the greater part
Of that which luxury or need supplied?
I gain'd in spirit what I lost in gold;
I gain'd in heav'n what I lost on earth:
Oh! darlings of my heart! I gain'd for you
Health, and hope of wisdom. Oh usury!
The usury of heaven, the avarice,
The lawful avarice of soaring minds.
Then never shall repentance sting my soul,
That I forsook them, and the rugged path
Pursued, that leads to wisdom's haunts divine.
There, my Eugenia! solace shall we find;
There raise our animated fanes to heaven,
And carol praises for thy health restor'd:
Where'er it be—whether that wisdom doom
Our voices rise amid the bustling throng,
Or from some rural scene, like Kirkstall vale,
Where gladder hearts may pour the song divine,
And smiling faces swell the chorus high.
And even now, perhaps, an angel guides
My wandering steps, to find some smiling cot
On Eden's stream, not distant from the site
Where moral Paley meditates, and points
To blissful mansions, and to paths of peace.
With conscious grandeur at the daring act.
What though I threw aside the greater part
Of that which luxury or need supplied?
I gain'd in spirit what I lost in gold;
I gain'd in heav'n what I lost on earth:
Oh! darlings of my heart! I gain'd for you
Health, and hope of wisdom. Oh usury!
The usury of heaven, the avarice,
The lawful avarice of soaring minds.
Then never shall repentance sting my soul,
That I forsook them, and the rugged path
Pursued, that leads to wisdom's haunts divine.
There, my Eugenia! solace shall we find;
There raise our animated fanes to heaven,
And carol praises for thy health restor'd:
Where'er it be—whether that wisdom doom
Our voices rise amid the bustling throng,
Or from some rural scene, like Kirkstall vale,
Where gladder hearts may pour the song divine,
And smiling faces swell the chorus high.
And even now, perhaps, an angel guides
My wandering steps, to find some smiling cot
On Eden's stream, not distant from the site
227
To blissful mansions, and to paths of peace.
Oh! for some years of tranquil life, to tend
The swelling spirits of my growing fruit,
'Till virtue set, 'till piety mature,
And give defiance to the blight or storm!
A hope that reason forms as pleasing Thee,
Vouchsafe to realize, Almighty Parent!
Bless, with thy fostering Providence, the work!
Grant me to execute the noble task,
And train up spirits worthy of creation!
Oh! may their worth my former frailties screen,
And animate my willing soul to give
The rest of life to virtue, and to Thee!
The swelling spirits of my growing fruit,
'Till virtue set, 'till piety mature,
And give defiance to the blight or storm!
A hope that reason forms as pleasing Thee,
Vouchsafe to realize, Almighty Parent!
Bless, with thy fostering Providence, the work!
Grant me to execute the noble task,
And train up spirits worthy of creation!
Oh! may their worth my former frailties screen,
And animate my willing soul to give
The rest of life to virtue, and to Thee!
Oh! my Eugenia! how this fervent prayer,
Springing with conscious truth, my bosom warms,
Heals the old humours of a faulty life,
And gives me earnest of some noble hours!
Springing with conscious truth, my bosom warms,
Heals the old humours of a faulty life,
And gives me earnest of some noble hours!
The day declines that marks my years; it glides
Fast to the ocean of eternity,
Where more than half a life is gone before:
Not gone, as said, for ever; for memory,
With faithful talisman, renews, recalls,
The vice or virtue, pang or joy, that's fled,
And stays it to the mind; repeated life!
In one short hour the active soul can glance
Through years on years of its corporeal being:
And mine hath this day ta'en a retrospect
Of frailty, virtue, joy, and sorrow mix'd.
Of joy and virtue, much to thee I owe,
Belov'd Eugenia! and I thank thee much:
Frailty and sorrow I submit to heaven,
And under wisdom's banners list once more.
Fast to the ocean of eternity,
Where more than half a life is gone before:
Not gone, as said, for ever; for memory,
With faithful talisman, renews, recalls,
The vice or virtue, pang or joy, that's fled,
And stays it to the mind; repeated life!
228
Through years on years of its corporeal being:
And mine hath this day ta'en a retrospect
Of frailty, virtue, joy, and sorrow mix'd.
Of joy and virtue, much to thee I owe,
Belov'd Eugenia! and I thank thee much:
Frailty and sorrow I submit to heaven,
And under wisdom's banners list once more.
Kirkstall! farewell! thou solemn mouldering fane!
Grave emblem of mortality! adieu!
Oft shall my memory with joy recall
The hours beneath thy venerable shade
The Muse I courted to a pious strain:
And while the picture of this scene I trace,
Thy wood, thy water, tower, and verdant turf,
And the sweet calm that reigns to end my song;
The hope I'll cherish which now fills my breast,
That humble though the song, it is not lost,
Nor undistinguish'd, joins the heavenly choir;
But that, with angel and archangel hosts,
My grateful voice the general chorus swells,
To laud and magnify the glorious name,
And chaunt all glory to my God on high.
Heaven and earth are of thy glory full!
All glory be to thee, Oh God most high!
Grave emblem of mortality! adieu!
Oft shall my memory with joy recall
The hours beneath thy venerable shade
The Muse I courted to a pious strain:
And while the picture of this scene I trace,
Thy wood, thy water, tower, and verdant turf,
And the sweet calm that reigns to end my song;
The hope I'll cherish which now fills my breast,
That humble though the song, it is not lost,
Nor undistinguish'd, joins the heavenly choir;
But that, with angel and archangel hosts,
My grateful voice the general chorus swells,
To laud and magnify the glorious name,
And chaunt all glory to my God on high.
Heaven and earth are of thy glory full!
All glory be to thee, Oh God most high!
| The miscellaneous works and novels of R. C. Dallas | |