Chapter 3

'Ah, what avails (he said) to trace the springs 'That whirl of empire the stupendous wheel! 'Ah, what have I to do with conquering kings, 'Hands drenched in blood, and breasts begirt with steel! 'To those, whom Nature taught to think and feel, 'Heroes, alas! are things of small concern. 'Could History man's secret heart reveal, 'And what imports a heaven-born mind to learn, 'Her transcripts to explore what bosom would not yearn!

XXXV.

'This praise, O Cheronean Sage, is thine. '(Why should this praise to thee alone belong!) 'All else from Nature's moral path decline, 'Lured by the toys that captivate the throng; 'To herd in cabinets and camps, among 'Spoil, carnage, and the cruel pomp of pride; 'Or chaunt of heraldry the drowsy song, 'How tyrant blood, o'er many a region wide, 'Rolls to a thousand thrones its execrable tide.

XXXVI.

'O, who of man the story will unfold, 'Ere victory and empire wrought annoy, 'In that elysian age (misnamed of gold) 'The age of love, and innocence, and joy, 'When all were great and free! man's sole employ 'To deck the bosom of his parent earth; 'Or toward his bower the murmuring stream decoy, 'To aid the floweret's long-expected birth, 'And lull the bed of peace, and crown the board of mirth.

XXXVII.

'Sweet were your shades, O ye primeval groves, 'Whose boughs to man his food and shelter lent, 'Pure in his pleasures, happy in his loves, 'His eye still smiling, and his heart content. 'Then, hand in hand, Health, Sport, and Labour went. 'Nature supplied the wish she taught to crave. 'None prowled for prey, none watched to circumvent. 'To all an equal lot Heaven's bounty gave: 'No vassal feared his lord, no tyrant feared his slave.

XXXVIII.

'But ah! the Historic Muse has never dared 'To pierce those hallowed bowers: 'tis Fancy's beam, 'Poured on the vision of the enraptured Bard, 'That paints the charms of that delicious theme. 'Then hail sweet Fancy's ray! and hail the dream 'That weans the weary soul from guilt and woe! 'Careless what others of my choice may deem, 'I long where Love and Fancy lead to go, 'And meditate on heaven; enough of earth I know.'

XXXIX.

'I cannot blame thy choice (the Sage replied), 'For soft and smooth are Fancy's flowery ways. 'And yet, even there, if left without a guide, 'The young adventurer unsafely plays. 'Eyes, dazzled long by Fiction's gaudy rays, 'In modest Truth no light nor beauty find. 'And who, my child, would trust the meteor-blaze, 'That soon must fail, and leave the wanderer blind, 'More dark and helpless far, than if it ne'er had shined?

XL.

'Fancy enervates, while it sooths, the heart, 'And, while it dazzles, wounds the mental sight: 'To joy each heightening charm it can impart, 'But wraps the hour of woe in tenfold night. 'And often, where no real ills affright, 'Its visionary fiends, an endless train, 'Assail with equal or superior might, 'And through the throbbing heart, and dizzy brain, 'And shivering nerves, shoot stings of more than mortal pain.

XLI.

'And yet, alas! the real ills of life 'Claim the full vigour of a mind prepared; 'Prepared for patient, long, laborious strife, 'Its guide Experience, and Truth its guard. 'We fare on earth, as other men have fared: 'Were they successful? Let not us despair. 'Was disappointment oft their sole reward? 'Yet shall their tale instruct, if it declare, 'How they have borne the load ourselves are doomed to bear.

XLII.

'What charms the Historic Muse adorn, from spoils, 'And blood, and tyrants, when she wings her flight, 'To hail the patriot Prince, whose pious toils 'Sacred to science, liberty, and right, 'And peace, through every age divinely bright, 'Shall shine the boast and wonder of mankind! 'Sees yonder sun, from his meridian height, 'A lovelier scene, than Virtue thus inshrined 'In power, and man with man for mutual aid combine!

XLIII.

'Hail, sacred Polity, by Freedom reared! 'Hail, sacred Freedom, when by Law restrained! 'Without you what were man? A grovelling herd, 'In darkness, wretchedness, and want enchained. 'Sublimed by you, the Greek and Roman reigned 'In arts unrivalled: O, to latest days, 'In Albion may your influence, unprofaned, 'To godlike worth the generous bosom raise, 'And prompt the Sage's lore, and fire the Poet's lays.

XLIV.

'But now let other themes our care engage. 'For lo, with modest, yet majestic grace, 'To curb Imagination's lawless rage, 'And from within the cherished heart to brace, 'Philosophy appears. The gloomy race, 'By Indolence and moping Fancy bred, 'Fear, Discontent, Solicitude give place, 'And Hope and Courage brighten in their stead, 'While on the kindling soul her vital beams are shed.

XLV.

'Then waken from long lethargy to life 'The seeds of happiness, and powers of thought; 'Then jarring appetites forego their strife, 'A strife by ignorance to madness wrought. 'Pleasure by savage man is dearly bought 'With fell revenge, lust that defies controul, 'With gluttony and death. The mind untaught, 'Is a dark waste, where fiends and tempests howl; 'As Phoebus to the world, is Science to the soul.

XLVI.

'And Reason, now, through Number, Time, and Space, 'Darts the keen lustre of her serious eye, 'And learns, from facts compared, the laws to trace, 'Whose long progression leads to Deity. 'Can mortal strength presume to soar so high? 'Can mortal sight, so oft bedimmed with tears, 'Such glory bear?--for lo, the shadows fly 'From Nature's face; Confusion disappears, 'And order charms the eyes, and harmony the ears.

XLVII.

'In the deep windings of the grove, no more 'The hag obscene, and grisly phantom dwell; 'Nor in the fall of mountain-stream, or roar 'Of winds, is heard the angry spirit's yell; 'No wizard mutters the tremendous spell, 'Nor sinks convulsive in prophetic swoon; 'Nor bids the noise of drums and trumpets swell, 'To ease of fancied pangs the labouring moon, 'Or chace the shade that blots the blazing orb of noon.

XLVIII.

'Many a long lingering year, in lonely isle, 'Stunned with the eternal turbulence of waves, 'Lo, with dim eyes, that never learned to smile, 'And trembling hands, the famished native craves 'Of Heaven his wretched fare: shivering in caves, 'Or scorched on rocks, he pines from day to day; 'But Science gives the word; and lo, he braves 'The surge and tempest, lighted by her ray, 'And to a happier land wafts merrily away.

XLIX.

'And even where Nature loads the teeming plain 'With the full pomp of vegetable store, 'Her bounty, unimproved, is deadly bane: 'Dark woods and rankling wilds, from shore to shore, 'Stretch their enormous gloom; which, to explore, 'Even Fancy trembles, in her sprightliest mood; 'For there, each eyeball gleams with lust of gore, 'Nestles each murderous and each monstrous brood, 'Plague lurks in every shade, and streams from every flood.

L.

'Twas from Philosophy man learned to tame 'The soil, by plenty to intemperance fed. 'Lo, from the echoing axe, and thundering flame, 'Poison, and plague, and yelling rage, are fled. 'The waters, bursting from their slimy bed, 'Bring health and melody to every vale: 'And, from the breezy main, and mountain's head, 'Ceres and Flora, to the sunny dale, 'To fan their glowing charms, invite the fluttering gale.

LI.

'What dire necessities, on every hand, 'Our art, our strength, our fortitude, require! 'Of foes intestine, what a numerous band 'Against this little throb of life conspire! 'Yet Science can elude their fatal ire 'Awhile, and turn aside Death's levelled dart, 'Sooth the sharp pang, allay the fever's fire, 'And brace the nerves once more, and cheer the heart, 'And yet a few soft nights and balmy days impart.

LII.

'Nor less to regulate man's moral frame 'Science exerts her all-composing sway. 'Flutters thy breast with fear, or pants for fame, 'Or pines, to indolence and spleen a prey, 'Or avarice, a fiend more fierce than they? 'Flee to the shade of Academus' grove; 'Where cares molest not, discord melts away 'In harmony, and the pure passions prove, 'How sweet the words of truth, breathed from the lips of Love.

LIII.

'What cannot Art and Industry perform, 'When Science plans the progress of their toil! 'They smile at penury, disease, and storm; 'And oceans from their mighty mounds recoil. 'When tyrants scourge, or demagogues embroil 'A land, or when the rabble's headlong rage 'Order transforms to anarchy and spoil, 'Deep-versed in man, the philosophic Sage 'Prepares, with lenient hand, their phrenzy to assuage.

LIV.

''Tis he alone, whose comprehensive mind, 'From situation, temper, soil, and clime 'Explored, a nation's various powers can bind, 'And various orders, in one form sublime 'Of polity, that, midst the wrecks of time, 'Secure shall lift its head on high, nor fear 'The assault of foreign or domestic crime, 'While public Faith, and public Love sincere, 'And Industry and Law maintain their sway severe.'

LV.

Enraptured by the Hermit's strain, the Youth Proceeds the path of science to explore. And now, expanding to the beams of truth, New energies, and charms unknown before, His mind discloses: Fancy now no more Wantons on fickle pinion through the skies; But, fixed in aim, and conscious of her power, Sublime from cause to cause exults to rise, Creation's blended stores arranging as she flies.

LVI.

Nor love of novelty alone inspires, Their laws and nice dependencies to scan; For, mindful of the aids that life requires, And of the services man owes to man, He meditates new arts on Nature's plan; The cold desponding breast of Sloth to warm, The flame of Industry and Genius fan, And Emulation's noble rage alarm, And the long hours of Toil and Solitude to charm.

LVII.

But She, who set on fire his infant heart, And all his dreams, and all his wanderings shared And blessed, the Muse, and her celestial art, Still claim the Enthusiast's fond and first regard. From Nature's beauties variously compared, And variously combined, he learns to frame Those forms of bright perfection, which the Bard, While boundless hopes and boundless views inflame, Enamoured consecrates to never-dying fame.

LVIII.

Of late, with cumbersome, though pompous show, Edwin would oft his flowery rhyme deface, Through ardour to adorn; but Nature now To his experienced eye a modest grace Presents, where Ornament the second place Holds, to intrinsic worth and just design Subservient still. Simplicity apace Tempers his rage: he owns her charm divine, And clears the ambiguous phrase, and lops the unwieldy line.

LIX.

Fain would I sing (much yet unsung remains) What sweet delirium o'er his bosom stole, When the great Shepherd of the Mantuan plains His deep majestic melody 'gan roll: Fain would I sing, what transport stormed his soul, How the red current throbbed his veins along, When, like Pelides, bold beyond controul, Gracefully terrible, sublimely strong, Homer raised high to heaven the loud, the impetuous song.

LX.

And how his lyre, though rude her first essays, Now skilled to sooth, to triumph, to complain, Warbling at will through each harmonious maze, Was taught to modulate the artful strain, I fain would sing: but ah! I strive in vain. Sighs from a breaking heart my voice confound. With trembling step, to join yon weeping train, I haste, where gleams funereal glare around, And, mixed with shrieks of woe, the knells of death resound.

LXI.

Adieu, ye lays, that fancy's flowers adorn, The soft amusement of the vacant mind! He sleeps in dust, and all the Muses mourn, He, whom each virtue fired, each grace refined, Friend, teacher, pattern, darling of mankind! He sleeps in dust. Ah! how should I pursue My theme! To heart-consuming grief resigned, Here, on his recent grave I fix my view, And pour my bitter tears.--Ye flowery lays, adieu!

LXII.

Art thou, my GREGORY, for ever fled! And am I left to unavailing woe! When fortune's storms assail this weary head, Where cares long since have shed untimely snow, Ah, now for comfort whither shall I go! No more thy soothing voice my anguish chears: Thy placid eyes with smiles no longer glow, My hopes to cherish, and allay my fears. 'Tis meet that I should mourn:--flow forth afresh my tears.

POEMS ON SEVERAL OCCASIONS.

POEMS ON SEVERAL OCCASIONS.

RETIREMENT.

1758.

When, in the crimson cloud of Even, The lingering light decays, And Hesper, on the front of heaven, His glittering gem displays; Deep in the silent vale, unseen, Beside a lulling stream, A pensive Youth, of placid mien, Indulged this tender theme.

Ye cliffs, in hoary grandeur piled, High o'er the glimmering dale; Ye woods, along whose windings wild, Murmurs the solemn gale; Where Melancholy strays forlorn, And Woe retires to weep, What time the wan moon's yellow horn Gleams on the western deep.

To you, ye wastes, whose artless charms Ne'er drew Ambition's eye, 'Scaped a tumultuous world's alarms, To your retreats I fly. Deep in your most sequestered bower, Let me at last recline, Where Solitude, mild, modest power, Leans on her ivy'd shrine.

How shall I woo thee, matchless Fair! Thy heavenly smile how win! Thy smile, that smooths the brow of care, And stills the storm within. O wilt thou to thy favourite grove Thine ardent votary bring, And bless his hours, and bid them move, Serene, on silent wing.

Oft let remembrance sooth his mind With dreams of former days, When, in the lap of peace reclined, He framed his infant lays; When Fancy roved at large, nor Care, Nor cold Distrust alarmed, Nor Envy, with malignant glare, His simple youth had harmed.

'Twas then, O Solitude, to thee His early vows were paid, From heart sincere, and warm, and free, Devoted to the shade. Ah why did Fate his steps decoy In stormy paths to roam, Remote from all congenial joy?-- O take the Wanderer home!

Thy shades, thy silence, now be mine, Thy charms my only theme; My haunt the hollow cliff, whose pine Waves o'er the gloomy stream, Whence the scared owl, on pinions grey, Breaks from the rustling boughs, And down the lone vale sails away To more profound repose.

O! while to thee the woodland pours Its wildly warbling song, And balmy from the bank of flowers The zephyr breathes along; Let no rude sound invade from far, No vagrant foot be nigh, No ray from Grandeur's gilded car, Flash on the startled eye.

But if some pilgrim through the glade, Thy hallowed bowers explore, O guard from harm his hoary head, And listen to his lore; For he of joys divine shall tell, That wean from earthly woe, And triumph o'er the mighty spell, That chains this heart below.

For me, no more the path invites Ambition loves to tread; No more I climb those toilsome heights By guileful Hope misled; Leaps my fond fluttering heart no more To Mirth's enlivening strain; For present pleasure soon is o'er, And all the past is vain.

ELEGY.

Still shall unthinking man substantial deem The forms, that fleet through life's deceitful dream? On clouds, where Fancy's beam amusive plays, Shall heedless Hope the towering fabric raise? Till at Death's touch the fairy visions fly, And real scenes rush dismal on the eye; And, from Elysium's balmy slumber torn, The startled soul awakes, to think, and mourn. O ye, whose hours in jocund train advance, Whose spirits to the song of gladness dance, Who flowery vales in endless view survey, Glittering in beams of visionary day; O, yet while Fate delays the impending woe, Be roused to thought, anticipate the blow; Lest, like the lightning's glance, the sudden ill Flash to confound, and penetrate to kill; Lest, thus encompassed with funereal gloom, Like me, ye bend o'er some untimely tomb, Pour your wild ravings in Night's frighted ear, And half pronounce Heaven's sacred doom severe. Wise, beauteous, good! O every grace combined, That charms the eye, or captivates the mind! Fair, as the floweret opening on the morn, Whose leaves bright drops of liquid pearl adorn! Sweet, as the downy-pinioned gale, that roves To gather fragrance in Arabian groves! Mild, as the strains, that, at the close of day, Warbling remote, along the vales decay! Yet, why with these compared? What tints so fine, What sweetness, mildness, can be matched with thine? Why roam abroad? Since still, to Fancy's eyes, I see, I see thy lovely form arise. Still let me gaze, and every care beguile, Gaze on that cheek, where all the Graces smile; That soul-expressing eye, benignly bright, Where meekness beams ineffable delight; That brow, where Wisdom sits enthroned serene, Each feature forms, and dignifies the mein: Still let me listen, while her words impart The sweet effusions of the blameless heart, Till all my soul, each tumult charmed away, Yields, gently led, to Virtue's easy sway. By thee inspired, O Virtue! Age is young, And music warbles from the faltering tongue: Thy ray creative cheers the clouded brow, And decks the faded cheek with rosy glow, Brightens the joyless aspect, and supplies Pure heavenly lustre to the languid eyes: But when Youth's living bloom reflects thy beams, Resistless on the view the glory streams; Love, Wonder, Joy, alternately alarm, And Beauty dazzles with angelic charm. Ah! whither fled! ye dear illusions, stay! Lo, pale and silent lies the lovely clay! How are the roses on that cheek decay'd, Which late the purple light of youth display'd! Health on her form each sprightly grace bestow'd; With life and thought each speaking feature glow'd. Fair was the flower, and soft the vernal sky; Elate with hope, we deemed no tempest nigh; When lo! a whirlwind's instantaneous gust Left all its beauties withering in the dust! All cold the hand, that soothed Woe's weary head! And quenched the eye, the pitying tear that shed! And mute the voice, whose pleasing accents stole, Infusing balm into the rankled soul! O Death! why arm with cruelty thy power, And spare the idle weed, yet lop the flower? Why fly thy shafts in lawless error driven? Is Virtue then no more the care of Heaven? But peace, bold thought! be still my bursting heart! We, not ELIZA, felt the fatal dart. Scaped the dark dungeon, does the slave complain, Nor bless the hand that broke the galling chain? Say, pines not Virtue for the lingering morn, On this dark wild condemned to roam forlorn? Where Reason's meteor-rays, with sickly glow, O'er the dun gloom a dreadful glimmering throw? Disclosing dubious to the affrighted eye O'erwhelming mountains tottering from on high, Black billowy seas in storm perpetual toss'd, And weary ways in wildering labyrinths lost. O happy stroke, that bursts the bonds of clay, Darts through the rending gloom the blaze of day, And wings the soul with boundless flight to soar, Where dangers threat, and fear alarms no more! Transporting thought! here let me wipe away The tear of grief, and wake a bolder lay. But ah! the swimming eye o'erflows anew, Nor check the sacred drops to pity due; Lo! where in speechless, hopeless anguish, bend O'er her loved dust, the Parent, Brother, Friend! How vain the hope of man!--But cease the strain, Nor Sorrow's dread solemnity profane; Mixed with yon drooping mourners, on her bier In silence shed the sympathetic tear.

ODE TO HOPE.

I. 1.

O thou, who glad'st the pensive soul, More than Aurora's smile the swain forlorn, Left all night long to mourn Where desolation frowns, and tempests howl; And shrieks of woe, as intermits the storm, Far o'er the monstrous wilderness resound, And cross the gloom darts many a shapeless form, And many a fire-eyed visage glares around, O come, and be once more my guest! Come, for thou oft thy suppliant's vow hast heard, And oft with smiles indulgent cheer'd, And soothed him into rest.

I. 2.

Smit by thy rapture-beaming eye, Deep flashing through the midnight of their mind, The sable bands combined, Where Fear's black banner bloats the troubled sky, Appalled retire. Suspicion hides her head, Nor dares th' obliquely gleaming eye-ball raise; Despair, with gorgon-figured veil o'erspread, Speeds to dark Phlegethon's detested maze. Lo, startled at the heavenly ray, With speed unwonted Indolence upsprings, And, heaving, lifts her leaden wings, And sullen glides away.

I. 3.

Ten thousand forms, by pining Fancy view'd, Dissolve. Above the sparkling flood When Phoebus rears his awful brow, From lengthening lawn and valley low The troops of fen-born mists retire. Along the plain The joyous swain Eyes the gay villages again, And gold-illumined spire; While, on the billowy ether borne, Floats the loose lay's jovial measure; And light along the fairy Pleasure, Her green robes glittering to the morn, Wantons on silken wing. And goblins all To the damp dungeon shrink, or hoary hall, Or westward, with impetuous flight, Shoot to the desart realms of their congenial Night.

II. 1.

When first on Childhood's eager gaze Life's varied landscape, stretch'd immense around, Starts out of night profound, Thy voice incites to tempt th' untrodden maze. Fond he surveys thy mild maternal face, His bashful eye still kindling as he views, And, while thy lenient arm supports his pace, With beating heart the upland path pursues: The path that leads, where, hung sublime, And seen afar, youth's gallant trophies, bright In Fancy's rainbow ray, invite His wingy nerves to climb.

II. 2.

Pursue thy pleasurable way, Safe in the guidance of thy heavenly guard, While melting airs are heard, And soft-eyed cherub forms around thee play: Simplicity, in careless flowers array'd, Prattling amusive in his accent meek; And Modesty, half turning as afraid, The smile just dimpling on his glowing cheek; Content and Leisure, hand in hand With Innocence and Peace, advance, and sing; And Mirth, in many a mazy ring, Frisks o'er the flowery land.

II. 3.