Memoirs of the Life and Writings of James Montgomery including selections from his correspondence, remains in prose and verse, and conversations or various subjects. By John Holland and James Everett |
 | [VOL I. APPENDIX.] |
 |
 | Memoirs of the Life and Writings of James Montgomery |  |
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[VOL I. APPENDIX.]
THE LOSS OF THE LOCKS: A SIBERIAN TALE.
CANTO I.
Once on a time,—and you may know
'Tis now three thousand years ago,
Near ancient Troy,—though when and where,
To us is neither here nor there;
Who dare dispute the truth of fable?
When once a poet slips his cable,
He scuds away before the wind,
While in their cockboats, far behind,
Critics in vain pursue the chase,
Distanced alike in time and place.
So the proud swan triumphant sails,
While ducks at distance wag their tails.
'Tis now three thousand years ago,
Near ancient Troy,—though when and where,
To us is neither here nor there;
Who dare dispute the truth of fable?
When once a poet slips his cable,
He scuds away before the wind,
While in their cockboats, far behind,
Critics in vain pursue the chase,
Distanced alike in time and place.
So the proud swan triumphant sails,
While ducks at distance wag their tails.
Achilles dead, his mother Thetis
Bewailed her son in dismal ditties;
And mourned her own immortal lot,
Since he could die and she could not.
Around her cave a beauteous throng
Of mermaids poured the plaintive song,
And all the tears of those sweet girls
Were metamorphosed into pearls;
Which as they fell they caught with care,
And strung them on their sea-green hair.
Stern Neptune shared his daughter's pain,
And Amphitrite shrieked amain;
Through all the sea the sorrow ran,
The Tritons blubbered to a man.
The billows heaved with such emotion,
There seemed an earthquake in the ocean;
While, blest in vain with hearts of stone,
Relenting rocks returned the moan.
Rapacious sharks released their prey,
And swooned delightfully away;
Herrings, like floating islands, hung
In listening millions on her tongue;
And sentimental shrimps did languish
In all the ecstasy of anguish;
Unwieldy turtles bounced their best,
And seemed deliciously distrest;
E'en sympathising lobsters wailed,
And wondered what their pincers ailed;
Oysters lay gasping in their beds,
And cockles shook their sapient heads;
Crabs clasped their claws, with frantic air,
In all the pathos of despair!
Bewailed her son in dismal ditties;
And mourned her own immortal lot,
Since he could die and she could not.
Around her cave a beauteous throng
Of mermaids poured the plaintive song,
And all the tears of those sweet girls
Were metamorphosed into pearls;
Which as they fell they caught with care,
And strung them on their sea-green hair.
318
And Amphitrite shrieked amain;
Through all the sea the sorrow ran,
The Tritons blubbered to a man.
The billows heaved with such emotion,
There seemed an earthquake in the ocean;
While, blest in vain with hearts of stone,
Relenting rocks returned the moan.
Rapacious sharks released their prey,
And swooned delightfully away;
Herrings, like floating islands, hung
In listening millions on her tongue;
And sentimental shrimps did languish
In all the ecstasy of anguish;
Unwieldy turtles bounced their best,
And seemed deliciously distrest;
E'en sympathising lobsters wailed,
And wondered what their pincers ailed;
Oysters lay gasping in their beds,
And cockles shook their sapient heads;
Crabs clasped their claws, with frantic air,
In all the pathos of despair!
At length the tide, that flowed so high,
Began to ebb in every eye;
Thetis resolved to seek relief,
And in a voyage drown her grief.
The Dame was soon equipt for sea,
(A tighter vessel could not be,)
And all her sorrows, all her charms,
Committed to her legs and arms;
No seventy-four, with all its trimming,
Was ever more expert at swimming:
Though wild and high the surges swelled,
Her lightest touch their wrath repelled.
A fleet of dolphins formed her train,
And gaily gambolled through the main.
Swift as the moon's awakening beam,
Swift as a disappearing dream,
Swift as the whirlwind sweeps the sky,
Swift as a spider snaps a fly,
So swift along the yielding spray
Her gallant elbows won their way.
As when the moon and starry host,
On heaven's tempestuous ocean tost,
Bathe their bright forms in billowy clouds,
Then start in splendour from their shrouds,
And braving wind and weather bleak,
Play all night long at hide and seek,
Thus Thetis with her dolphin-crew,
Alternate rose and sunk from view.
Now in the whelming gulf concealed,
Then fresh in rosy bloom revealed,
Light o'er the glistening wave she glides,
With glowing cheek, and panting sides,
Waves her green locks, and winds her limbs,
The surface circling as she swims;
Fond Ocean clasped her on his breast,
And bore her blushing to the West.
Began to ebb in every eye;
Thetis resolved to seek relief,
And in a voyage drown her grief.
The Dame was soon equipt for sea,
(A tighter vessel could not be,)
And all her sorrows, all her charms,
Committed to her legs and arms;
No seventy-four, with all its trimming,
Was ever more expert at swimming:
Though wild and high the surges swelled,
Her lightest touch their wrath repelled.
A fleet of dolphins formed her train,
And gaily gambolled through the main.
Swift as the moon's awakening beam,
Swift as a disappearing dream,
319
Swift as a spider snaps a fly,
So swift along the yielding spray
Her gallant elbows won their way.
As when the moon and starry host,
On heaven's tempestuous ocean tost,
Bathe their bright forms in billowy clouds,
Then start in splendour from their shrouds,
And braving wind and weather bleak,
Play all night long at hide and seek,
Thus Thetis with her dolphin-crew,
Alternate rose and sunk from view.
Now in the whelming gulf concealed,
Then fresh in rosy bloom revealed,
Light o'er the glistening wave she glides,
With glowing cheek, and panting sides,
Waves her green locks, and winds her limbs,
The surface circling as she swims;
Fond Ocean clasped her on his breast,
And bore her blushing to the West.
O for immortal Homer's fire,
Or humbler Virgil's sweeter lyre,
To sing, in strains that wildly weep,
My Lady's dangers in the deep!
How like Æneas and Ulysses,
From Scylla's fangs and Circe's kisses,
From self-consuming Ætna's rage,
From Polyphemus' dreadful cage,
Ten thousand thousand perils past,
She fled,—she triumphed to the last!
Or humbler Virgil's sweeter lyre,
To sing, in strains that wildly weep,
My Lady's dangers in the deep!
How like Æneas and Ulysses,
From Scylla's fangs and Circe's kisses,
From self-consuming Ætna's rage,
From Polyphemus' dreadful cage,
Ten thousand thousand perils past,
She fled,—she triumphed to the last!
Now reaching that divided strand,
Where Hercules' huge pillars stand,
Where proud Gibraltar bullies Spain,
She shoots into the western main;
And there her dolphin-train dismisses,
With briny tears and balmy kisses.
Now tost about by tempests frantic,
She stoutly stems the fierce Atlantic;
And all alone, undaunted braves
The roaring wilderness of waves.
Yet Lisbon's rock she shuns with care,—
She dreads the Inquisition there!
Nor nearer Gallia's coast is seen,—
She fears no less the guillotine!
But O! she hails, with proud emotion,
The mighty magnet of the ocean,
That rules the waves where'er they roll,
From sun to sun, from pole to pole—
That sweet, sequestered island-realm,
Where George the Third directs the helm!
Where Hercules' huge pillars stand,
Where proud Gibraltar bullies Spain,
She shoots into the western main;
And there her dolphin-train dismisses,
With briny tears and balmy kisses.
320
She stoutly stems the fierce Atlantic;
And all alone, undaunted braves
The roaring wilderness of waves.
Yet Lisbon's rock she shuns with care,—
She dreads the Inquisition there!
Nor nearer Gallia's coast is seen,—
She fears no less the guillotine!
But O! she hails, with proud emotion,
The mighty magnet of the ocean,
That rules the waves where'er they roll,
From sun to sun, from pole to pole—
That sweet, sequestered island-realm,
Where George the Third directs the helm!
“The Inquisition?—George the Third?—
The guillotine?—absurd! absurd!
Did ever such abortive blunders
Disgrace the vilest ‘Tale of Wonders,’
Born in despite of Nature's law,
When Bedlam brains were in the straw?
What can the crazy scribbler mean?”—
To leave you to the guillotine;
And in the teeth of railing knaves,
To follow Thetis through the waves.
The guillotine?—absurd! absurd!
Did ever such abortive blunders
Disgrace the vilest ‘Tale of Wonders,’
Born in despite of Nature's law,
When Bedlam brains were in the straw?
What can the crazy scribbler mean?”—
To leave you to the guillotine;
And in the teeth of railing knaves,
To follow Thetis through the waves.
Now dashing through the Straits of Dover,
The German Ocean crossing over,
Lapland's remotest point she doubles—
There falls into a sea of troubles.
Her courage now begins to fail her,
Islands of floating ice assail her,
Bulge her sweet ribs with barbarous shocks,
Amidst the crash of falling rocks;
Not Jove himself was more embarrassed,
When, by rebellious Titans harassed,
The mountains rattled round his ears,
And spoiled the music of the spheres.
The German Ocean crossing over,
Lapland's remotest point she doubles—
There falls into a sea of troubles.
Her courage now begins to fail her,
Islands of floating ice assail her,
Bulge her sweet ribs with barbarous shocks,
Amidst the crash of falling rocks;
Not Jove himself was more embarrassed,
When, by rebellious Titans harassed,
The mountains rattled round his ears,
And spoiled the music of the spheres.
321
The goddess thus besieged around,
Sighs for a foot of solid ground,
Strains every sinew, spends her strength,
And in Siberia lands at length.
What strange adventures there befel,
The Muse another time shall tell;
After such tossing on the billows,
My readers languish for their pillows:
Go, gentle friends, and slumber free
From all the dangers of the sea,
For mightier perils, still in store,
The Fates reserve for you on shore.
Sighs for a foot of solid ground,
Strains every sinew, spends her strength,
And in Siberia lands at length.
What strange adventures there befel,
The Muse another time shall tell;
After such tossing on the billows,
My readers languish for their pillows:
Go, gentle friends, and slumber free
From all the dangers of the sea,
For mightier perils, still in store,
The Fates reserve for you on shore.
CANTO II.
The goddess rising with a smile,
Like Egypt from the waves of Nile,
Fresh from the renovating flood,
On the bleak beach astonished stood;
When, all around her, she descried
A ghastly region, wild and wide,
Whose flowerless hills, and famished flocks,
Were howling wolves and horrid rocks;
While chill and wintry blew the breeze,
O'er icy lakes and leafless trees.
Then rushed on her dejected mind,
The classic scenes she left behind,—
The shores of Greece, the Trojan plain,
The islands of the Ægean main,
Those lovely infants of the deep,
On Ocean's lap that smile and sleep!
Then sobs convulsive shook her breast,
Warm gushed the tears, too long represt,
And, paler than the polar snow,
She looked unutterable woe.
Like Egypt from the waves of Nile,
Fresh from the renovating flood,
On the bleak beach astonished stood;
When, all around her, she descried
A ghastly region, wild and wide,
Whose flowerless hills, and famished flocks,
Were howling wolves and horrid rocks;
While chill and wintry blew the breeze,
O'er icy lakes and leafless trees.
Then rushed on her dejected mind,
The classic scenes she left behind,—
The shores of Greece, the Trojan plain,
The islands of the Ægean main,
Those lovely infants of the deep,
On Ocean's lap that smile and sleep!
Then sobs convulsive shook her breast,
Warm gushed the tears, too long represt,
322
She looked unutterable woe.
Now sweetly sailing with the wind,
Soft on a rosy cloud reclined,
Pensive and pale, and unattended,
The Queen of Love from heaven descended.
At her approach the hideous wild
With melancholy pleasure smiled;
Thus from the womb of ancient Night,
All beauteous sprang created Light;
The infant smiled the mother dead,
Chaos beheld his son—and fled!
Soft on a rosy cloud reclined,
Pensive and pale, and unattended,
The Queen of Love from heaven descended.
At her approach the hideous wild
With melancholy pleasure smiled;
Thus from the womb of ancient Night,
All beauteous sprang created Light;
The infant smiled the mother dead,
Chaos beheld his son—and fled!
The ladies met with marvelling eyes,
That spoke unspeakable surprise;
Thetis at length the silence brake,
And thus the gentle goddess spake:—
“Well! by the polar star, my dear,
What doth the Queen of Beauty here?
Did e'er immortal dame before
Run foul of such a rough lee-shore?”
That spoke unspeakable surprise;
Thetis at length the silence brake,
And thus the gentle goddess spake:—
“Well! by the polar star, my dear,
What doth the Queen of Beauty here?
Did e'er immortal dame before
Run foul of such a rough lee-shore?”
Venus replied, in accents low,
Light as the flakes of falling snow:—
“While sporting in the fields of air,
All in a curricle and pair,
A vulture scared my harnessed doves,
And put to flight the pretty loves.
In vain I strove with softest words
To soothe my poor affrighted birds;
With trembling hand I tried in vain
To check them with the silken rein:
My wingëd steeds,—more wild than they
That whirled the chariot of the day,
When young Apollo set the spheres
All in a blaze about our ears,—
Their fainting mistress bore on high,
Through many a thousand miles of sky;
Till reaching Winter's dire dominions,
Dead dropped my doves, with powerless pinions:
I fell!—a cloud to save me flew,
And kindly wafted me to you!”
Light as the flakes of falling snow:—
“While sporting in the fields of air,
All in a curricle and pair,
A vulture scared my harnessed doves,
And put to flight the pretty loves.
In vain I strove with softest words
To soothe my poor affrighted birds;
With trembling hand I tried in vain
To check them with the silken rein:
My wingëd steeds,—more wild than they
That whirled the chariot of the day,
When young Apollo set the spheres
All in a blaze about our ears,—
Their fainting mistress bore on high,
Through many a thousand miles of sky;
323
Dead dropped my doves, with powerless pinions:
I fell!—a cloud to save me flew,
And kindly wafted me to you!”
While Venus told her tender tale,
Thetis by turns grew red and pale;
At length she cried,—but scarce could speak,
For both her eyes had sprung a leak,—
“All's well at last, but by this light,
Where, comrade, shall we mess to-night?
The moon you see, o'er yonder vale,
Hath just weighed anchor and set sail;
Her fleet of stars are all afloat,
Each in his little jolly-boat!”
Thetis by turns grew red and pale;
At length she cried,—but scarce could speak,
For both her eyes had sprung a leak,—
“All's well at last, but by this light,
Where, comrade, shall we mess to-night?
The moon you see, o'er yonder vale,
Hath just weighed anchor and set sail;
Her fleet of stars are all afloat,
Each in his little jolly-boat!”
“Behold,” quoth Venus, “where a cavern
Invites us like a friendly tavern.”
Invites us like a friendly tavern.”
“Crowd every sail then, at a venture,”
Cried Thetis, “helm's a-lee, and enter!”
Cried Thetis, “helm's a-lee, and enter!”
Reaching the grotto in a minute,
The ladies went to roost within it;
But ah! for lack of feather beds,
They made their pillows of their heads,
Unbound their locks divinely fair,
Veiled their fine limbs in mantling hair,
And slept in sheets of snow so nice,
With blankets of the purest ice,
All comfortable, cold, and clean—
Strange berths for goddesses I ween!
Yet there, in Winter's frozen lap,
Unguarded Beauty stole a nap;
Thus red and white, through withering snows,
The lovely laurustinus blows.
The ladies went to roost within it;
But ah! for lack of feather beds,
They made their pillows of their heads,
Unbound their locks divinely fair,
Veiled their fine limbs in mantling hair,
And slept in sheets of snow so nice,
With blankets of the purest ice,
All comfortable, cold, and clean—
Strange berths for goddesses I ween!
Yet there, in Winter's frozen lap,
Unguarded Beauty stole a nap;
Thus red and white, through withering snows,
The lovely laurustinus blows.
On twilight mountains, stretched afar,
That freeze beneath the polar star,
In wild and melancholy state,
A beldame grasps the shears of fate;
A witch of such tremendous skill,
She wields the elements at will!
With man she claims a kindred birth,
Her limbs, like his, were formed from earth;
The quickening air her breath supplies,
And fire and water are her eyes;
Darkness her veil, her face is light,
Her motion day, her slumber night.
Her varying moods the Seasons bring,
She blushes summer, smiles the spring;
'Tis autumn when she looks serene,
And winter when she has the spleen.
The morning strews her path with flowers,
Which evening bathes in balmy showers;
In her the warbling birds rejoice,
For all their music is her voice.
Ancient as Time, unchanged as Truth,
She glories in perennial youth;
Her floating garments grace the skies,
Clouds of a thousand forms and dyes.
When midnight meteors glance and glare,
She shakes her scintillating hair;
When horrible eclipses happen,
'Tis then she puts her conjuring cap on!
She lends the wandering planets wings,
Holds the fixed stars in leading strings,
And coins new moons, as kings do gold,
From the light clippings of the old.
The sun obeys her daily motion;
Her footsteps petrify the ocean;
The undulations of the tides
Are but the heaving of her sides;
The willing winds her yoke obey,
Hailstorms and tempests cleave her way;
And eager lightnings, prompt to fly,
Pause on the twinkle of her eye;
Deep roll the thunders round her head,
And earthquakes tremble at her tread!
But what can speak her boundless fame?
A word!—for Nature is her name!
That freeze beneath the polar star,
In wild and melancholy state,
A beldame grasps the shears of fate;
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She wields the elements at will!
With man she claims a kindred birth,
Her limbs, like his, were formed from earth;
The quickening air her breath supplies,
And fire and water are her eyes;
Darkness her veil, her face is light,
Her motion day, her slumber night.
Her varying moods the Seasons bring,
She blushes summer, smiles the spring;
'Tis autumn when she looks serene,
And winter when she has the spleen.
The morning strews her path with flowers,
Which evening bathes in balmy showers;
In her the warbling birds rejoice,
For all their music is her voice.
Ancient as Time, unchanged as Truth,
She glories in perennial youth;
Her floating garments grace the skies,
Clouds of a thousand forms and dyes.
When midnight meteors glance and glare,
She shakes her scintillating hair;
When horrible eclipses happen,
'Tis then she puts her conjuring cap on!
She lends the wandering planets wings,
Holds the fixed stars in leading strings,
And coins new moons, as kings do gold,
From the light clippings of the old.
The sun obeys her daily motion;
Her footsteps petrify the ocean;
The undulations of the tides
Are but the heaving of her sides;
The willing winds her yoke obey,
Hailstorms and tempests cleave her way;
And eager lightnings, prompt to fly,
Pause on the twinkle of her eye;
Deep roll the thunders round her head,
And earthquakes tremble at her tread!
325
A word!—for Nature is her name!
The reader, big with expectation,
Stands like a note of admiration!
Why glare those unbelieving eyes?
Poets are licensed to surprise:
Shall Aristotle or Longinus,
To reasonable bounds confine us?
The bard has neither wit nor sense,
Who cannot oft with both dispense.
Know too, in this enlightened age,
The marvellous is all the rage:
Monsters as naturally are bred
As maggots in a scribbler's head,
While little limits do contain
A mighty wilderness of brain,
Whence fiends and forms, more grim to view
Than Lybian deserts ever knew,
Rush o'er the realms of Truth and Taste,
And lay the world of reading waste!
Genius itself, in wild weeds clad,
With insipidity run mad,
And moon-eyed Nonsense, staring blind,
Have so bewitched the public mind,
That authors must, in times like these,
Work miracles for bread and cheese,
Like conjurors amuse the many,
And raise the devil to raise a penny!
Stands like a note of admiration!
Why glare those unbelieving eyes?
Poets are licensed to surprise:
Shall Aristotle or Longinus,
To reasonable bounds confine us?
The bard has neither wit nor sense,
Who cannot oft with both dispense.
Know too, in this enlightened age,
The marvellous is all the rage:
Monsters as naturally are bred
As maggots in a scribbler's head,
While little limits do contain
A mighty wilderness of brain,
Whence fiends and forms, more grim to view
Than Lybian deserts ever knew,
Rush o'er the realms of Truth and Taste,
And lay the world of reading waste!
Genius itself, in wild weeds clad,
With insipidity run mad,
And moon-eyed Nonsense, staring blind,
Have so bewitched the public mind,
That authors must, in times like these,
Work miracles for bread and cheese,
Like conjurors amuse the many,
And raise the devil to raise a penny!
Hold, let us take a little breath,
Nor, swan-like, sing ourselves to death:
With Mother Nature newly drawn,
We'll leave the goddesses in pawn;
But soon in canto third and last,
Make full atonement for the past;
And to redeem our lovely pledges,
Break down all Aristotle's hedges.
Nor, swan-like, sing ourselves to death:
With Mother Nature newly drawn,
We'll leave the goddesses in pawn;
But soon in canto third and last,
Make full atonement for the past;
And to redeem our lovely pledges,
Break down all Aristotle's hedges.
326
CANTO III.
Great Nature now, transcendent queen,
Enters our wild Siberian scene;
Around in hushed attention lies,
The theatre of earth and skies;
Not deeper silence, darker gloom,
Lull the cold region of the tomb.
Marshalled in dreadful ranks at hand,
The elements on tiptoe stand,
Spirits that earth and ocean fill,
Or work in fire and air her will;
Impatient each to prove his power,
And rule, the tyrant of the hour,
Yet trembling with mysterious awe,
Live on her look—her look their law!
Enters our wild Siberian scene;
Around in hushed attention lies,
The theatre of earth and skies;
Not deeper silence, darker gloom,
Lull the cold region of the tomb.
Marshalled in dreadful ranks at hand,
The elements on tiptoe stand,
Spirits that earth and ocean fill,
Or work in fire and air her will;
Impatient each to prove his power,
And rule, the tyrant of the hour,
Yet trembling with mysterious awe,
Live on her look—her look their law!
She came: the clouds before her sight,
Undrew the curtains of the night;
The smiling moon, and stars serene,
Bowed in bright homage to their queen;
Gay northern glories o'er the sky
Broke from the lightning of her eye;
While all the hoary hills below
Shone in the majesty of snow;
The echoing vales with music rang,
For bears and wolves in concert sang;
Shrill piped the gale, and hoarse and deep
The waves responded in their sleep.
Pleased with the scene, th' enchantress smiled
In boundless beauty o'er the wild,
Then, lest its charms too soon be lost,
Bound the resplendent night in frost!
Her awful head she then declined,
And sunk to stillness with the wind;
Cold o'er her nerves the numbness crept,
And chilled her heart-strings—Nature slept!
Outstretched she lay, from west to east,
Six thousand English miles at least:
From gloomy Greenland's coast forlorn,
To where Kamtschatka hails the morn,
The lady's longitude extended,—
And there the frost began and ended!
Undrew the curtains of the night;
The smiling moon, and stars serene,
Bowed in bright homage to their queen;
Gay northern glories o'er the sky
Broke from the lightning of her eye;
While all the hoary hills below
Shone in the majesty of snow;
The echoing vales with music rang,
For bears and wolves in concert sang;
Shrill piped the gale, and hoarse and deep
The waves responded in their sleep.
Pleased with the scene, th' enchantress smiled
In boundless beauty o'er the wild,
Then, lest its charms too soon be lost,
Bound the resplendent night in frost!
Her awful head she then declined,
And sunk to stillness with the wind;
Cold o'er her nerves the numbness crept,
And chilled her heart-strings—Nature slept!
Outstretched she lay, from west to east,
Six thousand English miles at least:
327
To where Kamtschatka hails the morn,
The lady's longitude extended,—
And there the frost began and ended!
“How dare you libel Nature thus?
Think not to pass such dreams on us!”
Nay, critics, do not storm about her,
We could not make a frost without her;
And bards, for lack of better means,
Are privileged to use machines:
The Muse had sworn, whate'er the cost,
To pawn Parnassus for a frost;
A frost the story did require,
Though frost had set the world on fire!
Think not to pass such dreams on us!”
Nay, critics, do not storm about her,
We could not make a frost without her;
And bards, for lack of better means,
Are privileged to use machines:
The Muse had sworn, whate'er the cost,
To pawn Parnassus for a frost;
A frost the story did require,
Though frost had set the world on fire!
When o'er the hills the morning broke,
Thetis and Cytherea 'woke,
But vainly struggled in their beds,
To loose their limbs, and lift their heads;
Those heads that lent their ample tresses,
To wind those limbs in soft undresses,
Those heads the tyrant Frost had bound,
Those limbs enchanted to the ground,
Congealed in ice those radiant locks,
And fixed the goddesses on rocks.
Thetis and Cytherea 'woke,
But vainly struggled in their beds,
To loose their limbs, and lift their heads;
Those heads that lent their ample tresses,
To wind those limbs in soft undresses,
Those heads the tyrant Frost had bound,
Those limbs enchanted to the ground,
Congealed in ice those radiant locks,
And fixed the goddesses on rocks.
Thus Gulliver, as Swift relates,—
The shuttlecock of adverse fates,—
By winds and waves, with dire commotion,
Borne o'er the solitude of ocean,
Landed at length his luckless foot
On the sweet shore of Lilliput;
Where, like a weather-beaten ass,
He couched and slumbered on the grass;
But waking soon, with horror found
His limbs in cobweb-cables bound,
By every hair upon his head
Chained fast to his terrestrial bed!
The shuttlecock of adverse fates,—
By winds and waves, with dire commotion,
Borne o'er the solitude of ocean,
Landed at length his luckless foot
On the sweet shore of Lilliput;
Where, like a weather-beaten ass,
He couched and slumbered on the grass;
But waking soon, with horror found
His limbs in cobweb-cables bound,
By every hair upon his head
Chained fast to his terrestrial bed!
328
With lucid ice encrusted round,
Like flies in beauteous amber found,
Our dames, in cold confinement pent
By Nature's act of parliament,
Pled Magna Charta to no purpose,
And sued in vain for Habeas Corpus;
Ah! who with Nature can contend,
And hope to triumph in the end?
If at the door the witch you spurn,
Quick through the window she'll return;
Driven from the head, you feel her dart
Through every fibre of the heart!
So when physicians hunt the gout,
The lame distemper skips about
From limb to limb, and stops with ease
The patient's breath, the doctor's fees.
Like flies in beauteous amber found,
Our dames, in cold confinement pent
By Nature's act of parliament,
Pled Magna Charta to no purpose,
And sued in vain for Habeas Corpus;
Ah! who with Nature can contend,
And hope to triumph in the end?
If at the door the witch you spurn,
Quick through the window she'll return;
Driven from the head, you feel her dart
Through every fibre of the heart!
So when physicians hunt the gout,
The lame distemper skips about
From limb to limb, and stops with ease
The patient's breath, the doctor's fees.
When Jove beheld the mighty odds,
He called a synod of the gods;
Gods who in wood, and stone, and brass,
For very honest men might pass;
But when from brass, and stone, and wood,
The poets made them flesh and blood,
The metamorphosed blocks and logs
Were verily most shabby dogs.
He called a synod of the gods;
Gods who in wood, and stone, and brass,
For very honest men might pass;
But when from brass, and stone, and wood,
The poets made them flesh and blood,
The metamorphosed blocks and logs
Were verily most shabby dogs.
Each minor god assumed his throne;
Jove o'er the rest superior shone,
Much like the Jove of winter nights,
Surrounded by his satellites!
The Thunderer then, with arms a-kimbo,
Told of our goddesses in limbo;
Quick at the news the powers on high
Peeped from the windows of the sky,
Convulsed with laughter when they saw
Immortals bound by Nature's law,
Almost in bankruptcy of breath,
Stretched at the turnpike-gate of Death,
Through which no traveller, on trust,
Did ever pass—or ever must;
Where Time himself, by Fate's decree,
Pays tribute to Eternity!
Jove o'er the rest superior shone,
Much like the Jove of winter nights,
Surrounded by his satellites!
The Thunderer then, with arms a-kimbo,
Told of our goddesses in limbo;
Quick at the news the powers on high
Peeped from the windows of the sky,
Convulsed with laughter when they saw
Immortals bound by Nature's law,
Almost in bankruptcy of breath,
Stretched at the turnpike-gate of Death,
329
Did ever pass—or ever must;
Where Time himself, by Fate's decree,
Pays tribute to Eternity!
Momus alone, with solemn grace,
Maintained his fortitude of face,
Bowed at the central throne his skull,
And thus addressed the Great Mogul:—
“An't please your worship, my advice
Would free the ladies in a trice.”
“Take counsel,” Jove exclaimed, “of you?—
The powers dethrone me if I do!”
“Nay, don't be angry,” Momus said;
“Do anything but shake your head.”
Maintained his fortitude of face,
Bowed at the central throne his skull,
And thus addressed the Great Mogul:—
“An't please your worship, my advice
Would free the ladies in a trice.”
“Take counsel,” Jove exclaimed, “of you?—
The powers dethrone me if I do!”
“Nay, don't be angry,” Momus said;
“Do anything but shake your head.”
That moment, such the will of Fate,
With rage the Thunderer shook his pate;
Then rocked the pillars of creation,
Pale Nature reeled on her foundation,
Through every joint she felt the shock
Of Jove's electrifying block;
Oh! then were broken in a trice
Her spell of frost and charm of ice;
Our startled captives raised their heads,
And sprang triumphant from their beds;
But, dire mischance! among the rocks
Left the rich harvest of their locks—
Those locks divine, in ice inurned,
That ice to purest crystal turned!
With rage the Thunderer shook his pate;
Then rocked the pillars of creation,
Pale Nature reeled on her foundation,
Through every joint she felt the shock
Of Jove's electrifying block;
Oh! then were broken in a trice
Her spell of frost and charm of ice;
Our startled captives raised their heads,
And sprang triumphant from their beds;
But, dire mischance! among the rocks
Left the rich harvest of their locks—
Those locks divine, in ice inurned,
That ice to purest crystal turned!
As Berenice's beams appear
Enshrined in heaven's own sapphire sphere,
With ringlets of celestial light,
Dishevelled o'er the brows of Night,
Thus in that cavern's hideous womb,
Twinkling sweet splendour through the gloom,
Those tresses in transparent stone,
A richer constellation shone.
Here the bright sea-nymph's curls were seen,
Like fairy rings of glossy green;
And Cytherea's ravished hair,
A golden treasure, glittered there,
As if the moon enthroned on high,
Had cast her halo from the sky.
Enshrined in heaven's own sapphire sphere,
With ringlets of celestial light,
Dishevelled o'er the brows of Night,
Thus in that cavern's hideous womb,
Twinkling sweet splendour through the gloom,
Those tresses in transparent stone,
A richer constellation shone.
330
Like fairy rings of glossy green;
And Cytherea's ravished hair,
A golden treasure, glittered there,
As if the moon enthroned on high,
Had cast her halo from the sky.
The goddesses, struck dumb with wonder,
A moment gazed,—then fled asunder;
Pale Thetis sought her native haven,
And reached old Greece, chagrined and shaven;
There, wandering midst her darkest rocks,
She mourned Achilles—and her locks;
While Venus, on the wings of morn,
Gay as a grasshopper, though shorn,
Flew to the skies, and triumphed there
O'er every head and every hair;
The gods, their wives and daughters sweet,
Laid beards and tresses at her feet:
And every pate and every chin
Was cropt and levelled to the skin;
And to this origin, perhaps,
We owe the birth of wigs and caps:
While love shall reign the sovereign passion,
Beauty will always lead the fashion.
A moment gazed,—then fled asunder;
Pale Thetis sought her native haven,
And reached old Greece, chagrined and shaven;
There, wandering midst her darkest rocks,
She mourned Achilles—and her locks;
While Venus, on the wings of morn,
Gay as a grasshopper, though shorn,
Flew to the skies, and triumphed there
O'er every head and every hair;
The gods, their wives and daughters sweet,
Laid beards and tresses at her feet:
And every pate and every chin
Was cropt and levelled to the skin;
And to this origin, perhaps,
We owe the birth of wigs and caps:
While love shall reign the sovereign passion,
Beauty will always lead the fashion.
END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
| Memoirs of the Life and Writings of James Montgomery | |