Kitabı oku: «The Poetical Works of James Beattie», sayfa 7

THE HARES
A FABLE

 
Yes, yes, I grant the sons of Earth
Are doom'd to trouble from their birth.
We all of sorrow have our share;
But say, is yours without compare?
Look round the world; perhaps you'll find
Each individual of our kind
Press'd with an equal load of ill,
Equal at least. Look further still,
And own your lamentable case
Is little short of happiness.
In yonder hut that stands alone
Attend to Famine's feeble moan;
Or view the couch where Sickness lies,
Mark his pale cheek, and languid eyes,
His frame by strong convulsion torn,
His struggling sighs, and looks forlorn.
Or see, transfix'd with keener pangs,
Where o'er his hoard the miser hangs;
Whistles the wind; he starts, he stares,
Nor Slumber's balmy blessing shares;
Despair, Remorse, and Terror roll,
Their tempests on his harass'd soul.
But here perhaps it may avail
T' enforce our reasoning with a tale.
Mild was the morn, the sky serene,
The jolly hunting band convene,
The beagle's breast with ardour burns,
The bounding steed the champaign spurns,
And Fancy oft the game descries
Through the hound's nose, and huntsman's eyes.
Just then, a council of the hares
Had met, on national affairs.
The chiefs were set; while o'er their head
The furze its frizzled covering spread.
Long lists of grievances were heard,
And general discontent appear'd.
"Our harmless race shall every savage
Both quadruped and biped ravage?
Shall horses, hounds, and hunters still
Unite their wits to work us ill?
The youth, his parent's sole delight,
Whose tooth the dewy lawns invite,
Whose pulse in every vein beats strong,
Whose limbs leap light the vales along,
May yet ere noontide meet his death,
And lie dismember'd on the heath.
For youth, alas, nor cautious age,
Nor strength, nor speed, eludes their rage.
In every field we meet the foe,
Each gale comes fraught with sounds of woe;
The morning but awakes our fears,
The evening sees us bath'd in tears.
But must we ever idly grieve,
Nor strive our fortunes to relieve?
Small is each individual's force:
To stratagem be our recourse;
And then, from all our tribes combin'd,
The murderer to his cost may find
No foes are weak, whom Justice arms,
Whom Concord leads, and Hatred warms.
Be rous'd; or liberty acquire,
Or in the great attempt expire."
He said no more, for in his breast
Conflicting thoughts the voice suppress'd:
The fire of vengeance seem'd to stream
From his swoln eyeball's yellow gleam.
And now the tumults of the war,
Mingling confusedly from afar,
Swell in the wind. Now louder cries
Distinct of hounds and men arise.
Forth from the brake, with beating heart,
Th' assembled hares tumultuous start,
And, every straining nerve on wing,
Away precipitately spring.
The hunting band, a signal given,
Thick thundering o'er the plain are driven;
O'er cliff abrupt, and shrubby mound,
And river broad, impetuous bound:
Now plunge amid the forest shades,
Glance through the openings of the glades;
Now o'er the level valley sweep,
Now with short steps strain up the steep;
While backward from the hunter's eyes
The landscape like a torrent flies.
At last an ancient wood they gain'd,
By pruner's axe yet unprofan'd.
High o'er the rest, by Nature rear'd,
The oak's majestic boughs appear'd:
Beneath, a copse of various hue
In barbarous luxuriance grew.
No knife had curb'd the rambling sprays,
No hand had wove th' implicit maze.
The flowering thorn, self-taught to wind,
The hazel's stubborn stem entwin'd,
And bramble twigs were wreath'd around,
And rough furze crept along the ground.
Here sheltering, from the sons of murther,
The hares drag their tir'd limbs no further.
But lo, the western wind ere long
Was loud, and roar'd the woods among;
From rustling leaves, and crashing boughs
The sound of woe and war arose.
The hares distracted scour the grove,
As terror and amazement drove;
But danger, wheresoe'er they fled,
Still seem'd impending o'er their head.
Now crowded in a grotto's gloom,
All hope extinct, they wait their doom.
Dire was the silence, till, at length,
Even from despair deriving strength,
With bloody eye and furious look,
A daring youth arose and spoke.
"O wretched race, the scorn of Fate,
Whom ills of every sort await!
O, curs'd with keenest sense to feel
The sharpest sting of every ill!
Say ye, who, fraught with mighty scheme,
Of liberty and vengeance dream,
What now remains? To what recess
Shall we our weary steps address,
Since Fate is evermore pursuing
All ways and means to work our ruin?
Are we alone, of all beneath,
Condemn'd to misery worse than death?
Must we, with fruitless labour, strive
In misery worse than death to live?
No. Be the smaller ill our choice:
So dictates Nature's powerful voice.
Death's pang will in a moment cease;
And then, All hail, eternal peace!"
Thus while he spoke, his words impart
The dire resolve to every heart.
A distant lake in prospect lay,
That, glittering in the solar ray,
Gleam'd through the dusky trees, and shot
A trembling light along the grot.
Thither with one consent they bend,
Their sorrows with their lives to end,
While each, in thought, already hears
The water hissing in his ears.
Fast by the margin of the lake,
Conceal'd within a thorny brake,
A linnet sate, whose careless lay
Amus'd the solitary day.
Careless he sung, for on his breast
Sorrow no lasting trace impress'd;
When suddenly he heard a sound
Of swift feet traversing the ground.
Quick to the neighbouring tree he flies,
Thence trembling casts around his eyes;
No foe appear'd, his fears were vain;
Pleas'd he renews the sprightly strain.
The hares, whose noise had caus'd his fright,
Saw with surprise the linnet's flight.
"Is there on Earth a wretch," they said,
"Whom our approach can strike with dread?"
An instantaneous change of thought
To tumult every bosom wrought.
So fares the system-building sage,
Who, plodding on from youth to age,
At last on some foundation-dream
Has rear'd aloft his goodly scheme,
And prov'd his predecessors fools,
And bound all nature by his rules;
So fares he in that dreadful hour,
When injur'd Truth exerts her power,
Some new phenomenon to raise,
Which, bursting on his frighted gaze,
From its proud summit to the ground
Proves the whole edifice unsound.
"Children," thus spoke a hare sedate,
Who oft had known th' extremes of fate,
"In slight events the docile mind
May hints of good instruction find.
That our condition is the worst,
And we with such misfortunes curst
As all comparison defy,
Was late the universal cry;
When lo, an accident so slight
As yonder little linnet's flight
Has made your stubborn heart confess
(So your amazement bids me guess)
That all our load of woes and fears
Is but a part of what he bears.
Where can he rest secure from harms,
Whom even a helpless hare alarms?
Yet he repines not at his lot,
When past, the danger is forgot:
On yonder bough he trims his wings,
And with unusual rapture sings:
While we, less wretched, sink beneath
Our lighter ills, and rush to death.
No more of this unmeaning rage,
But hear, my friends, the words of age.
"When by the winds of autumn driven
The scatter'd clouds fly cross the heaven,
Oft have we, from some mountain's head,
Beheld th' alternate light and shade
Sweep the long vale. Here, hovering, lowers
The shadowy cloud; there downward pours,
Streaming direct, a flood of day,
Which from the view flies swift away;
It flies, while other shades advance,
And other streaks of sunshine glance.
Thus chequer'd is the life below
With gleams of joy and clouds of woe.
Then hope not, while we journey on,
Still to be basking in the sun:
Nor fear, though now in shades ye mourn,
That sunshine will no more return.
If, by your terrors overcome,
Ye fly before th' approaching gloom,
The rapid clouds your flight pursue,
And darkness still o'ercasts your view.
Who longs to reach the radiant plain
Must onward urge his course amain;
For doubly swift the shadow flies,
When 'gainst the gale the pilgrim plies.
At least be firm, and undismay'd
Maintain your ground; the fleeting shade
Ere long spontaneous glides away,
And gives you back th' enlivening ray.
Lo, while I speak, our danger past!
No more the shrill horn's angry blast
Howls in our ear; the savage roar
Of war and murder is no more.
Then snatch the moment fate allows,
Nor think of past or future woes."
He spoke; and hope revives; the lake
That instant one and all forsake,
In sweet amusement to employ
The present sprightly hour of joy.
Now from the western mountain's brow,
Compass'd with clouds of various glow,
The sun a broader orb displays,
And shoots aslope his ruddy rays.
The lawn assumes a fresher green,
And dewdrops spangle all the scene;
The balmy zephyr breathes along,
The shepherd sings his tender song,
With all their lays the groves resound,
And falling waters murmur round.
Discord and care were put to flight,
And all was peace, and calm delight.
 

EPITAPH:
BEING PART OF AN INSCRIPTION DESIGNED FOR AMONUMENT ERECTED BY A GENTLEMANTO THE MEMORY OF HIS LADY

 
Farewell! my best-belov'd; whose heavenly mind
Genius with virtue, strength with softness join'd;
Devotion, undebas'd by pride or art,
With meek simplicity, and joy of heart;
Though sprightly, gentle: though polite, sincere;
And only of thyself a judge severe;
Unblam'd, unequall'd in each sphere of life,
The tenderest daughter, sister, parent, wife.
In thee their patroness th' afflicted lost;
Thy friends, their pattern, ornament, and boast;
And I – but ah, can words my loss declare,
Or paint th' extremes of transport and despair!
O thou, beyond what verse or speech can tell,
My guide, my friend, my best beloved, farewell!
 

THE HERMIT

 
At the close of the day, when the hamlet is still,
And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove,
When nought but the torrent is heard on the hill,
And nought but the nightingale's song in the grove:
'Twas thus, by the cave of the mountain afar,
While his harp rung symphonious, a hermit began;
No more with himself or with nature at war,
He thought as a sage, though he felt as a man.
 
 
"Ah! why, all abandon'd to darkness and woe,
Why, lone Philomela, that languishing fall?
For spring shall return, and a lover bestow,
And sorrow no longer thy bosom enthrall.
But, if pity inspire thee renew the sad lay,
Mourn, sweetest complainer, man calls thee to mourn;
O soothe him, whose pleasures like thine pass away:
Full quickly they pass – but they never return.
 
 
"Now gliding remote, on the verge of the sky,
The Moon half extinguish'd her crescent displays:
But lately I mark'd, when majestic on high
She shone, and the planets were lost in her blaze.
Roll on, thou fair orb, and with gladness pursue
The path that conducts thee to splendour again:
But man's faded glory what change shall renew!
Ah, fool! to exult in a glory so vain!
 
 
"'Tis night, and the landscape is lovely no more:
I mourn, but, ye woodlands, I mourn not for you;
For morn is approaching your charms to restore,
Perfum'd with fresh fragrance, and glittering with dew:
Nor yet for the ravage of winter I mourn;
Kind Nature the embryo blossom will save:
But when shall spring visit the mouldering urn!
O when shall it dawn on the night of the grave!"
 
 
''Twas thus, by the glare of false science betray'd,
That leads, to bewilder, and dazzles, to blind,
My thoughts wont to roam, from shade onward to shade,
Destruction before me, and sorrow behind.
"O pity, great Father of light," then I cried,
"Thy creature, who fain would not wander from thee;
Lo, humbled in dust, I relinquish my pride:
From doubt and from darkness thou only canst free."
 
 
'And darkness and doubt are now flying away;
No longer I roam in conjecture forlorn.
So breaks on the traveller, faint and astray,
The bright and the balmy effulgence of morn.
See Truth, Love, and Mercy, in triumph descending,
And nature all glowing in Eden's first bloom!
On the cold cheek of Death smiles and roses are blending,
And beauty immortal awakes from the tomb.'
 

PIECES REJECTED BY THE AUTHORFROM THE LATER EDITIONSOF HIS POEMS

THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS

 
Far in the depth of Ida's inmost grove,
A scene for love and solitude design'd,
Where flowery woodbines wild by Nature wove
Form'd the lone bower, the Royal Swain reclin'd.
 
 
All up the craggy cliffs, that tower'd to heaven,
Green wav'd the murmuring pines on every side;
Save where, fair opening to the beam of even,
A dale slop'd gradual to the valley wide.
 
 
Echoed the vale with many a cheerful note;
The lowing of the herds resounding long.
The shrilling pipe, and mellow horn remote,
And social clamours of the festive throng.
 
 
For now, low hovering o'er the western main,
Where amber clouds begirt his dazzling throne,
The sun with ruddier verdure deck'd the plain,
And lakes, and streams, and spires triumphal shone.
 
 
And many a band of ardent youths were seen;
Some into rapture fir'd by glory's charms,
Or hurl'd the thundering car along the green,
Or march'd embattled on in glittering arms.
 
 
Others more mild, in happy leisure gay,
The darkening forest's lonely gloom explore,
Or by Scamander's flowery margin stray,
Or the blue Hellespont's resounding shore.
 
 
But chief the eye to Ilion's glories turn'd
That gleam'd along th' extended champaign far,
And bulwarks, in terrific pomp adorn'd,
Where Peace sat smiling at the frowns of War.
 
 
Rich in the spoils of many a subject-clime,
In pride luxurious blaz'd th' imperial dome;
Tower'd mid th' encircling grove the fane sublime,
And dread memorials mark'd the hero's tomb,
 
 
Who from the black and bloody cavern led
The savage stern, and sooth'd his boisterous breast;
Who spoke, and Science rear'd her radiant head,
And brighten'd o'er the long benighted waste;
 
 
Or, greatly daring in his country's cause,
Whose heaven-taught soul the awful plan design'd,
Whence Power stood trembling at the voice of laws,
Whence soar'd on Freedom's wing th' ethereal mind.
 
 
But not the pomp that royalty displays,
Nor all the imperial pride of lofty Troy,
Nor Virtue's triumph of immortal praise,
Could rouse the languor of the lingering boy.
 
 
Abandon'd all to soft Enone's charms,
He to oblivion doom'd the listless day;
Inglorious lull'd in Love's dissolving arms,
While flutes lascivious breath'd th' enfeebling lay.
 
 
To trim the ringlets of his scented hair,
To aim, insidious, Love's bewitching glance,
Or cull fresh garlands for the gaudy fair,
Or wanton loose in the voluptuous dance;
 
 
These were his arts; these won Enone's love,
Nor sought his fetter'd soul a nobler aim.
Ah, why should beauty's smile those arts approve,
Which taint with infamy the lover's flame?
 
 
Now laid at large beside a murmuring spring,
Melting he listen'd to the vernal song,
And Echo listening wav'd her airy wing,
While the deep winding dales the lays prolong.
 
 
When slowly floating down the azure skies
A crimson cloud flash'd on his startled sight;
Whose skirts gay-sparkling with unnumber'd dyes
Launch'd the long billowy trails of flickering light.
 
 
That instant, hush'd was all the vocal grove,
Hush'd was the gale, and every ruder sound,
And strains aërial, warbling far above,
Rung in the ear a magic peal profound.
 
 
Near, and more near, the swimming radiance roll'd;
Along the mountains stream the lingering fires,
Sublime the groves of Ida blaze with gold,
And all the heaven resounds with louder lyres.
 
 
The trumpet breath'd a note: and all in air
The glories vanish'd from the dazzled eye;
And three ethereal forms, divinely fair,
Down the steep glade were seen advancing nigh.
 
 
The flowering glade fell level where they mov'd,
O'erarching high the clustering roses hung,
And gales from heaven on balmy pinion rov'd,
And hill and dale with gratulation rung.
 
 
The first with slow and stately step drew near,
Fix'd was her lofty eye, erect her mien:
Sublime in grace, in majesty severe,
She look'd and mov'd a goddess and a queen.
 
 
Her robe along the gale profusely stream'd,
Light lean'd the sceptre on her bending arm;
And round her brow a starry circlet gleam'd,
Heightening the pride of each commanding charm.
 
 
Milder the next came on with artless grace,
And on a javelin's quivering length reclin'd:
T' exalt her mien she bade no splendour blaze,
Nor pomp of vesture fluctuate on the wind.
 
 
Serene, though awful, on her brow the light
Of heavenly wisdom shone; nor rov'd her eyes,
Save to the shadowy cliff's majestic height,
Or the blue concave of th' involving skies.
 
 
Keen were her eyes to search the inmost soul;
Yet Virtue triumph'd in their beams benign,
And impious Pride oft felt their dread control,
When in fierce lightning flash'd the wrath divine.⁴³
 
 
With awe and wonder gaz'd th' adoring swain;
His kindling cheek great Virtue's power confess'd;
But soon 'twas o'er; for Virtue prompts in vain,
Where Pleasure's influence numbs the nerveless breast.
 
 
And now advanc'd the queen of melting joy,
Smiling supreme in unresisted charms.
Ah, then, what transports fir'd the trembling boy!
How throb'd his sickening frame with fierce alarms!
 
 
Her eyes in liquid light luxurious swim,
And languish with unutterable love:
Heaven's warm bloom glows along each brightening limb,
Where fluttering bland the veil's thin mantlings rove.
 
 
Quick, blushing as abash'd, she half withdrew:
One hand a bough of flowering myrtle wav'd,
One graceful spread, where, scarce conceal'd from view,
Soft through the parting robe her bosom heav'd.
 
 
"Offspring of Jove supreme! belov'd of Heaven!
Attend." Thus spoke the empress of the skies.
"For know, to thee, high-fated prince, 'tis given
Thro' the bright realms of Fame sublime to rise.
 
 
"Beyond man's boldest hope; if nor the wiles
Of Pallas triumph o'er th' ennobling thought;
Nor Pleasure lure with artificial smiles
To quaff the poison of her luscious draught.
 
 
"When Juno's charms the prize of beauty claim,
Shall aught on Earth, shall aught in Heaven contend?
Whom Juno calls to high triumphant fame,
Shall he to meaner sway inglorious bend?
 
 
"Yet lingering comfortless in lonesome wild,
Where Echo sleeps mid cavern'd vales profound,
The pride of Troy, Dominion's darling child,
Pines while the slow hour stalks its sullen round.
 
 
"Hear thou, of Heaven unconscious! From the blaze
Of glory, stream'd from Jove's eternal throne,
Thy soul, O mortal, caught th' inspiring rays
That to a god exalt earth's raptur'd son.
 
 
"Hence the bold wish, on boundless pinion borne,
That fires, alarms, impels the maddening soul;
The hero's eye, hence, kindling into scorn,
Blasts the proud menace, and defies control.
 
 
"But, unimprov'd, Heaven's noblest boons are vain:
No sun with plenty crowns th' uncultur'd vale;
Where green lakes languish on the silent plain,
Death rides the billows of the western gale.
 
 
"Deep in yon mountain's womb, where the dark cave
Howls to the torrent's everlasting roar,
Does the rich gem its flashy radiance wave?
Or flames with steady ray th' imperial ore?
 
 
"Toil deck'd with glittering domes yon champaign wide,
And wakes yon grove-embosom'd lawns to joy,
And rends the rough ore from the mountain's side,
Spangling with starry pomp the thrones of Troy.
 
 
"Fly these soft scenes. Even now, with playful art,
Love wreathes thy flowery ways with fatal snare.
And nurse th' ethereal fire that warms thy heart,
That fire ethereal lives but by thy care.
 
 
"Lo, hovering near on dark and dampy wing.
Sloth with stern patience waits the hour assign'd,
From her chill plume the deadly dews to fling,
That quench Heaven's beam, and freeze the cheerless mind.
 
 
"Vain, then, th' enlivening sound of Fame's alarms,
For Hope's exulting impulse prompts no more;
Vain even the joys that lure to Pleasure's arms,
The throb of transport is for ever o'er.
 
 
"O who shall then to Fancy's darkening eyes
Recall th' Elysian dreams of joy and light?
Dim through the gloom the formless visions rise,
Snatch'd instantaneous down, the gulf of night.
 
 
"Thou, who securely lull'd in youth's warm ray,
Mark'st not the desolations wrought by Time,
Be rous'd or perish. Ardent for its prey
Speeds the fell hour that ravages thy prime.
 
 
"And, midst the horrors shrin'd of midnight storm,
The fiend Oblivion eyes thee from afar,
Black with intolerable frowns her form,
Beckoning th' embattled whirlwinds into war.
 
 
"Fanes, bulwarks, mountains, worlds, their tempest whelms:
Yet Glory braves unmov'd th' impetuous sweep.
Fly then, ere hurl'd from life's delightful realms,
Thou sink t' Oblivion's dark and boundless deep.
 
 
"Fly then, where Glory points the path sublime:
See her crown dazzling with eternal light!
'Tis Juno prompts thy daring steps to climb,
And girds thy bounding heart with matchless might.
 
 
"Warm in the raptures of divine desire,
Burst the soft chain that curbs th' aspiring mind;
And fly, where Victory, borne on wings of fire,
Waves her red banner to the rattling wind.
 
 
"Ascend the car. Indulge the pride of arms,
Where clarions roll their kindling strains on high,
Where the eye maddens to the dread alarms,
And the long shout tumultuous rends the sky.
 
 
"Plung'd in the uproar of the thundering field
I see thy lofty arm the tempest guide;
Fate scatters lightning from thy meteor-shield,
And Ruin spreads around the sanguine tide.
 
 
"Go, urge the terrors of thy headlong car
On prostrate Pride, and Grandeur's spoils o'erthrown,
While all amaz'd even heroes shrink afar,
And hosts embattled vanish at thy frown.
 
 
"When glory crowns thy godlike toils, and all
The triumph's lengthening pomp exalts thy soul,
When lowly at thy feet the mighty fall,
And tyrants tremble at thy stern control;
 
 
"When conquering millions hail thy sovereign might,
And tribes unknown dread acclamation join;
How wilt thou spurn the forms of low delight!
For all the ecstasies of heaven are thine:
 
 
"For thine the joys, that fear no length of days,
Whose wide effulgence scorns all mortal bound:
Fame's trump in thunder shall announce thy praise,
Nor bursting worlds her clarion's blast confound."
 
 
The goddess ceas'd, not dubious of the prize:
Elate she mark'd his wild and rolling eye,
Mark'd his lip quiver, and his bosom rise,
And his warm cheek suffus'd with crimson dye.
 
 
But Pallas now drew near. Sublime, serene
In conscious dignity, she view'd the swain;
Then, love and pity softening all her mien,
Thus breathed with accents mild the solemn strain.
 
 
"Let those, whose arts to fatal paths betray,
The soul with passion's gloom tempestuous blind,
And snatch from Reason's ken th' auspicious ray
Truth darts from Heaven to guide th' exploring mind.
 
 
"But Wisdom loves the calm and serious hour,
When Heaven's pure emanation beams confess'd:
Rage, ecstasy, alike disclaim her power,
She wooes each gentler impulse of the breast.
 
 
"Sincere th' unalter'd bliss her charms impart,
Sedate th' enlivening ardours they inspire:
She bids no transient rapture thrill the heart,
She wakes no feverish gust of fierce desire.
 
 
"Unwise, who, tossing on the watery way,
All to the storm th' unfetter'd sail devolve:
Man more unwise resigns the mental sway,
Borne headlong on by passion's keen resolve.
 
 
"While storms remote but murmur on thine ear,
Nor waves in ruinous uproar round thee roll,
Yet, yet a moment check thy prone career,
And curb the keen resolve that prompts thy soul.
 
 
"Explore thy heart, that, rous'd by Glory's name,
Pants all enraptur'd with the mighty charm —
And, does Ambition quench each milder flame?
And is it conquest that alone can warm?
 
 
"T' indulge fell Rapine's desolating lust,
To drench the balmy lawn in streaming gore,
To spurn the hero's cold and silent dust —
Are these thy joys? Nor throbs thy heart for more?
 
 
"Pleas'd canst thou listen to the patriot's groan,
And the wild wail of Innocence forlorn?
And hear th' abandon'd maid's last frantic moan,
Her love for ever from her bosom torn?
 
 
"Nor wilt thou shrink, when Virtue's fainting breath
Pours the dread curse of vengeance on thy head?
Nor when the pale ghost bursts the cave of death,
To glare distraction on thy midnight bed?
 
 
"Was it for this, though born to regal power,
Kind Heaven to thee did nobler gifts consign,
Bade Fancy's influence gild thy natal hour,
And bade Philanthropy's applause be thine?
 
 
"Theirs be the dreadful glory to destroy,
And theirs the pride of pomp, and praise suborn'd,
Whose eye ne'er lighten'd at the smile of Joy,
Whose cheek the tear of Pity ne'er adorn'd;
 
 
"Whose soul, each finer sense instinctive quell'd,
The lyre's mellifluous ravishment defies;
Nor marks where Beauty roves the flowery field,
Or Grandeur's pinion sweeps th' unbounded skies.
 
 
"Hail to sweet Fancy's unexpressive charm!
Hail to the pure delights of social love!
Hail, pleasures mild, that fire not while ye warm,
Nor rack th' exulting frame, but gently move!
 
 
"But Fancy soothes no more, if stern Remorse
With iron grasp the tortur'd bosom wring.
Ah then, even Fancy speeds the venom's course,
Even Fancy points with rage the maddening sting!
 
 
"Her wrath a thousand gnashing fiends attend,
And roll the snakes, and toss the brands of hell:
The beam of Beauty blasts; dark Heavens impend
Tottering; and Music thrills with startling yell.
 
 
"What then avails, that with exhaustless store
Obsequious Luxury loads thy glittering shrine?
What then avails, that prostrate slaves adore,
And Fame proclaims thee matchless and divine?
 
 
"What though bland Flattery all her arts apply?
Will these avail to calm th' infuriate brain?
Or will the roaring surge, when heav'd on high,
Headlong hang, hush'd, to hear the piping swain?
 
 
"In health how fair, how ghastly in decay
Man's lofty form! how heavenly fair the mind
Sublim'd by Virtue's sweet enlivening sway!
But ah! to guilt's outrageous rule resign'd,
 
 
"How hideous and forlorn! when ruthless Care
With cankering tooth corrodes the seeds of life,
And deaf with passion's storms when pines Despair,
And howling furies rouse th' eternal strife.
 
 
"O, by thy hopes of joy that restless glow,
Pledges of Heaven! be taught by Wisdom's lore:
With anxious haste each doubtful path forego,
And life's wild ways with cautious fear explore.
 
 
"Straight be thy course; nor tempt the maze that leads
Where fell Remorse his shapeless strength conceals:
And oft Ambition's dizzy cliff he treads,
And slumbers oft in Pleasure's flowery vales.
 
 
"Nor linger unresolv'd: Heaven prompts the choice;
Save when Presumption shuts the ear of Pride:
With grateful awe attend to Nature's voice,
The voice of Nature Heaven ordain'd thy guide.
 
 
"Warn'd by her voice the arduous path pursue,
That leads to Virtue's fane a hardy band.
What, though no gaudy scenes decoy their view,
Nor clouds of fragrance roll along the land;
 
 
"What, though rude mountains heave the flinty way,
Yet there the soul drinks light and life divine,
And pure aërial gales of gladness play,
Brace every nerve, and every sense refine.
 
 
"Go, prince, be virtuous and be blest. The throne
Rears not its state to swell the couch of Lust;
Nor dignify Corruption's daring son,
T' o'erwhelm his humbler brethren of the dust.
 
 
"But yield an ampler scene to Bounty's eye,
And ampler range to Mercy's ear expand;
And 'midst admiring nations, set on high
Virtue's fair model, fram'd by Wisdom's hand.
 
 
"Go then: the moan of Woe demands thine aid;
Pride's licens'd outrage claims thy slumbering ire;
Pale Genius roams the bleak neglected shade,
And battening Avarice mocks his tuneless lyre.
 
 
"Even Nature pines by vilest chains oppress'd;
Th' astonish'd kingdoms crouch to Fashion's nod.
O ye pure inmates of the gentle breast,
Truth, Freedom, Love, O where is your abode?
 
 
"O yet once more shall Peace from heaven return,
And young Simplicity with mortals dwell!
Nor Innocence th' august pavilion scorn,
Nor meek Contentment fly the humble cell!
 
 
"Wilt thou, my prince, the beauteous train implore,
Midst earth's forsaken scenes once more to bide?
Then shall the shepherd sing in every bower,
And Love with garlands wreathe the domes of Pride.
 
 
"The bright tear starting in th' impassion'd eyes
Of silent gratitude; the smiling gaze
Of gratulation, faltering while he tries
With voice of transport to proclaim thy praise;
 
 
"Th' ethereal glow that stimulates thy frame,
When all th' according powers harmonious move,
And wake to energy each social aim,
Attun'd spontaneous to the will of Jove;
 
 
"Be these, O man, the triumphs of thy soul;
And all the conqueror's dazzling glories slight,
That meteor-like o'er trembling nations roll,
To sink at once in deep and dreadful night.
 
 
"Like thine, yon orb's stupendous glories burn
With genial beam; nor at th' approach of even,
In shades of horror leave the world to mourn,
But gild with lingering light th' empurpled heaven."
 
 
Thus while she spoke, her eye, sedately meek,
Look'd the pure fervour of maternal love.
No rival zeal intemperate flush'd her cheek —
Can Beauty's boast the soul of Wisdom move?
 
 
Worth's noble pride, can Envy's leer appall,
Or staring Folly's vain applauses soothe?
Can jealous Fear Truth's dauntless heart enthrall?
Suspicion lurks not in the heart of Truth.
 
 
And now the shepherd rais'd his pensive head:
Yet unresolv'd and fearful rov'd his eyes,
Scared at the glances of the awful maid;
For young unpractis'd guilt distrusts the guise
 
 
Of shameless Arrogance. His wavering breast,
Though warm'd by Wisdom, own'd no constant fire;
While lawless Fancy roam'd afar, unblest
Save in th' oblivious lap of soft Desire.
 
 
When thus the queen of soul-dissolving smiles.
"Let gentle fates my darling prince attend:
Joyless and cruel are the warrior's spoils,
Dreary the path stern Virtue's sons ascend.
 
 
"Of human joy full short is the career,
And the dread verge still gains upon your sight:
While idly gazing, far beyond your sphere,
Ye scan the dream of unapproach'd delight;
 
 
"Till every sprightly hour and blooming scene
Of life's gay morn unheeded glides away,
And clouds of tempests mount the blue serene,
And storm and ruin close the troublous day.
 
 
"Thou still exult to hail the present joy,
Thine be the boon that comes unearn'd by toil;
No forward vain desire thy bliss annoy,
No flattering hope thy longing hours beguile.
 
 
"Ah! why should man pursue the charms of Fame,
For ever luring, yet forever coy?
Light as the gaudy rainbow's pillar'd gleam,
That melts illusive from the wondering boy!
 
 
"What though her throne irradiate many a clime,
If hung loose-tottering o'er th' unfathom'd tomb?
What though her mighty clarion, rear'd sublime,
Display the imperial wreath and glittering plume?
 
 
"Can glittering plume, or can the imperial wreath
Redeem from unrelenting fate the brave?
What note of triumph can her clarion breathe,
T' alarm th' eternal midnight of the grave?
 
 
"That night draws on: nor will the vacant hour
Of expectation linger as it flies;
Nor Fate one moment unenjoy'd restore:
Each moment's flight how precious to the wise!
 
 
"O shun th' annoyance of the bustling throng,
That haunt with zealous turbulence the great;
Their coward Office boasts th' unpunish'd wrong,
And sneaks secure in insolence of state.
 
 
"O'er fancy'd injury Suspicion pines,
And in grim silence gnaws the festering wound;
Deceit the rage-embitter'd smile refines,
And Censure spreads the viperous hiss around.
 
 
"Hope not, fond prince, though Wisdom guard thy throne,
Though Truth and Bounty prompt each generous aim,
Though thine the palm of peace, the victor's crown,
The Muse's rapture, and the patriot's flame:
 
 
"Hope not, though all that captivates the wise,
All that endears the good exalt thy praise;
Hope not to taste repose; for Envy's eyes
At fairest worth still point their deadly rays.
 
 
"Envy, stern tyrant of the flinty heart,
Can aught of Virtue, Truth, or Beauty charm?
Can soft Compassion thrill with pleasing smart,
Repentance melt, or Gratitude disarm?
 
 
"Ah no. Where Winter Scythia's waste enchains,
And monstrous shapes roar to the ruthless storm,
Not Phœbus' smile can cheer the dreadful plains,
Or soil accurs'd with balmy life inform.
 
 
"Then, Envy, then is thy triumphant hour,
When mourns Benevolence his baffled scheme;
When Insult mocks the clemency of Power,
And loud Dissension's livid firebrands gleam;
 
 
"When squint-ey'd Slander plies th' unhallow'd tongue,
From poison'd maw when Treason weaves his line,
And Muse apostate (infamy to song!)
Grovels, low-muttering, at Sedition's shrine.
 
 
"Let not my prince forego the peaceful shade,
The whispering grove, the fountain, and the plain:
Power, with th' oppressive weight of pomp array'd,
Pants for simplicity and ease in vain.
 
 
"The yell of frantic Mirth may stun his ear,
But frantic Mirth soon leaves the heart forlorn;
And Pleasure flies that high tempestuous sphere;
Far different scenes her lucid paths adorn.
 
 
"She loves to wander on th' untrodden lawn,
Or the green bosom of reclining hill,
Sooth'd by the careless warbler of the dawn,
Or the lone plaint of ever-murmuring rill.
 
 
"Or from the mountain-glade's aërial brow,
While to her song a thousand echoes call,
Marks the wild woodland wave remote below,
Where shepherds pipe unseen, and waters fall.
 
 
"Her influence oft the festive hamlet proves,
Where the high carol cheers th' exulting ring;
And oft she roams the maze of wildering groves,
Listening th' unnumber'd melodies of spring.
 
 
"Or to the long and lonely shore retires;
What time, loose-glimmering to the lunar beam,
Faint heaves the slumberous wave, and starry fires
Gild the blue deep with many a lengthening gleam.
 
 
"Then, to the balmy bower of Rapture borne,
While strings self-warbling breathe Elysian rest,
Melts in delicious vision, till the morn
Spangle with twinkling dew the flowery waste.
 
 
"The frolic Moments, purple-pinion'd, dance
Around, and scatter roses as they play:
And the blithe Graces, hand in hand, advance,
Where, with her lov'd compeers, she deigns to stray;
 
 
"Mild Solitude, in veil of russet dye,
Her sylvan spear with moss-grown ivy bound;
And Indolence, with sweetly-languid eye,
And zoneless robe that trails along the ground;
 
 
"But chiefly Love – O thou, whose gentle mind
Each soft indulgence Nature fram'd to share;
Pomp, wealth, renown, dominion, all resign'd,
O haste to Pleasure's bower, for Love is there!
 
 
"Love, the desire of gods! the feast of Heaven:
Yet to Earth's favour'd offspring not denied!
Ah, let not thankless man the blessing given
Enslave to Fame, or sacrifice to Pride!
 
 
"Nor I from Virtue's call decoy thine ear;
Friendly to Pleasure are her sacred laws.
Let Temperance' smile the cup of gladness cheer;
That cup is death, if he withhold applause.
 
 
"Far from thy haunt be Envy's baneful sway,
And Hate, that works the harass'd soul to storm:
But woo Content to breathe her soothing lay,
And charm from Fancy's view each angry form.
 
 
"No savage joy th' harmonious hours profane!
Whom Love refines, can barbarous tumult please?
Shall rage of blood pollute the sylvan reign?
Shall Leisure wanton in the spoils of Peace?
 
 
"Free let the feathery race indulge the song,
Inhale the liberal beam, and melt in love;
Free let the fleet hind bound her hills along,
And in pure streams the watery nations rove.
 
 
"To joy in Nature's universal smile
Well suits, O man, thy pleasurable sphere;
But why should Virtue doom thy years to toil?
Ah, why should Virtue's law be deem'd severe?
 
 
"What meed, Beneficence, thy care repays?
What, Sympathy, thy still returning pang?
And why his generous arm should Justice raise,
To dare the vengeance of a tyrant's fang?
 
 
"From thankless spite no bounty can secure;
Or froward wish of discontent fulfil,
That knows not to regret thy bounded power,
But blames with keen reproach thy partial will.
 
 
"To check th' impetuous all-involving tide
Of human woes, how impotent thy strife!
High o'er thy mounds devouring surges ride,
Nor reck thy baffled toils, or lavish'd life.
 
 
"The bower of bliss, the smile of love be thine,
Unlabour'd ease, and leisure's careless dream.
Such be their joys, who bend at Venus' shrine,
And own her charms beyond compare supreme."
 
 
Warm'd as she spoke, all panting with delight,
Her kindling beauties breathed triumphant bloom;
And Cupids flutter'd round in circlets bright,
And Flora pour'd from all her stores perfume.
 
 
"Thine be the prize," exclaim'd th' enraptur'd youth,
"Queen of unrivall'd charms, and matchless joy." —
O blind to fate, felicity, and truth! —
But such are they whom Pleasure's snares decoy.
 
 
The Sun was sunk; the vision was no more:
Night downward rush'd tempestuous, at the frown
Of Jove's awaken'd wrath; deep thunders roar,
The forests howl afar, and mountains groan,
 
 
And sanguine meteors glare athwart the plain:
With horror's scream the Ilian towers resound;
Raves the hoarse storm along the bellowing main,
And the strong earthquake rends the shuddering ground.