The miscellaneous works and novels of R. C. Dallas ... In seven volumes. A new edition |
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| A VOCABULARY OF THE PASSIONS. |
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 | The miscellaneous works and novels of R. C. Dallas |  |
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A VOCABULARY OF THE PASSIONS.
------ The passions all
Have burst their bounds; and reason, half-extinct,
Or impotent, or else approving, sees
The foul disorder.
Thomson.
Have burst their bounds; and reason, half-extinct,
Or impotent, or else approving, sees
The foul disorder.
Thomson.
147
TO S. J. PRATT, ESQ.
YES! I have dar'd to string again those chords,
That ev'ry minstrel boasts his claim to strike;
So sweetly struck, dear bard of sympathy!
So sweetly varied by thy magic hand.
These are the Passions! these the mental chords!
Oft have I heard them, pliant to thy skill,
In full vibration fix the ravish'd ear,
And swell the raptur'd heart. E'en now they swell,
Resound, and captivate the admiring land.
That ev'ry minstrel boasts his claim to strike;
So sweetly struck, dear bard of sympathy!
So sweetly varied by thy magic hand.
These are the Passions! these the mental chords!
Oft have I heard them, pliant to thy skill,
In full vibration fix the ravish'd ear,
And swell the raptur'd heart. E'en now they swell,
Resound, and captivate the admiring land.
In Henry's
heart when self-love yields the palm,
And filial piety triumphant reigns,
Say, ye disciples of the idol self!
Where will ye mark your God's ubiquity?
“Mar my best hope,” he cries, “e'en love constrain,
“Let Henry suffer so his sire be blest.”
Say ye, 'tis fancy all, and all romance?
Know, ye suspicious tribe! that truth and nature
Dispose the Poet's base, though fancy gild
The fabrick. But if ye doubt it still,
Go, from Amelia, glean the existing fact,
And learn of sympathy to venerate
The pure emotions of the expanding soul,
Nor bound to selfish views a Seraph's beamings.
Have you beheld her to the village tripping?
And have ye seen the philanthropic sage,
Seen and believ'd, who from the source of wealth
Could nobly truant 'mong the Cambrian hills,
And scramble far o'er dizzy precipices,
To judge the circulating stream of life,
And renovate the pulses of a friend?
And have you heard the name of Howard there?
In the small coffer peep'd with crimson'd cheek?
And own'd the skill that medicines the soul?
And filial piety triumphant reigns,
Say, ye disciples of the idol self!
Where will ye mark your God's ubiquity?
“Mar my best hope,” he cries, “e'en love constrain,
“Let Henry suffer so his sire be blest.”
Say ye, 'tis fancy all, and all romance?
Know, ye suspicious tribe! that truth and nature
Dispose the Poet's base, though fancy gild
148
Go, from Amelia, glean the existing fact,
And learn of sympathy to venerate
The pure emotions of the expanding soul,
Nor bound to selfish views a Seraph's beamings.
Have you beheld her to the village tripping?
And have ye seen the philanthropic sage,
Seen and believ'd, who from the source of wealth
Could nobly truant 'mong the Cambrian hills,
And scramble far o'er dizzy precipices,
To judge the circulating stream of life,
And renovate the pulses of a friend?
And have you heard the name of Howard there?
In the small coffer peep'd with crimson'd cheek?
And own'd the skill that medicines the soul?
Bright, sacred flame! from fires celestial caught,
That in communicated bliss absorbs,
Or melts, or purifies all selfish joy.
That in communicated bliss absorbs,
Or melts, or purifies all selfish joy.
Oh! master of the theme! triumphant lord
Of busy man's best passions and his worst!
To whom the precious talisman is giv'n
To spring the tear, or start the joyous smile,
To kindle rapture, or the heart dismay!
Here view the traces I have dar'd to mark
Of fountains pure, and deviated streams,
And turbid torrents deluging the soul.
Here cast thine eyes upon the adjusted chart
Of what in action thy enchanting strains,
And high-wrought volumes captive into life.
Of busy man's best passions and his worst!
To whom the precious talisman is giv'n
To spring the tear, or start the joyous smile,
To kindle rapture, or the heart dismay!
Here view the traces I have dar'd to mark
Of fountains pure, and deviated streams,
And turbid torrents deluging the soul.
Here cast thine eyes upon the adjusted chart
Of what in action thy enchanting strains,
And high-wrought volumes captive into life.
For there the Brothers
dignify thy scenes
With noble contrasts of the soaring mind.
All just; whether each chord responsive sound,
Or rigid reason catechize the blood,
Or placid mildness urge the golden mean.
There Stuart's darker breast and Demon nerves,
Show the foul currents swept from nature's plan.
There, honest Partington , fair habit's child,
Habit of nature cherish'd, not averse,
Shapes uncouth terms to pure benevolence:
For such there be by guileless habit form'd.
There too we weep thy other Henry's fate,
Corbett's remorse, the rage of civil war,
And Emma's grief, and Raymond's gen'rous love.
With noble contrasts of the soaring mind.
149
Or rigid reason catechize the blood,
Or placid mildness urge the golden mean.
There Stuart's darker breast and Demon nerves,
Show the foul currents swept from nature's plan.
There, honest Partington , fair habit's child,
Habit of nature cherish'd, not averse,
Shapes uncouth terms to pure benevolence:
For such there be by guileless habit form'd.
There too we weep thy other Henry's fate,
Corbett's remorse, the rage of civil war,
And Emma's grief, and Raymond's gen'rous love.
In lively pictures trac'd, or simple rules,
The cause is Virtue's—Prosper it, Oh, man!
The cause is Virtue's—Prosper it, Oh, man!
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