Part 17

The tide of fate rolls on!--heart-pierced and pale, The gallant soldier lies,[144] nor aught avail, The shield, the sword, the spirit of the brave, From rapine's armed hand thy vales to save, Land of illustrious heroes, who, of yore, Drenched the same plains with the invader's gore, Stood frowning, in the front of death, and hurled Defiance to the conquerors[145] of the world! Oh, when we hear the agonising tale Of those who, faint, and fugitive, and pale, Saw hourly, harassed through their long retreat, Some worn companion sinking at their feet, Yet even in danger and from toil more bold, Back on their gathering foes the tide of battle rolled;-- While tears of pity mingle with applause, On the dread scene in silence let us pause; Yes, pause, and ask, Is not thy awful hand Stretched out, O God, o'er a devoted land, Whose vales of beauty Nature spread in vain, Where misery moaned on the uncultured plain, Where Bigotry went by with jealous scowl, Where Superstition muttered in his cowl; Whilst o'er the Inquisition's dismal holds, Its horrid banner waved in bleeding folds! And dost thou thus, Lord of all might, fulfil With wreck and tempests thy eternal will, Shatter the arms in which weak kingdoms trust, And strew their scattered ensigns in the dust? Oh, if no human wisdom may withstand The terrors, Lord, of thy uplifted hand; If the dark tide no prowess can control, Yet nearer, charged with dread commission, roll; Still may my country's ark majestic ride, Though sole, yet safe, on the conflicting tide; Till hushed be the wild rocking of the blast, And the red storm of death be overpast!

[144] Sir John Moore.

[145] "Near Mount Medulio, the remains of a great native force destroyed themselves in sight of a Roman army, rather than submit to bondage."--_Southey's Travels in Spain and Portugal._

SKETCH FROM BOWDEN HILL AFTER SICKNESS.

How cheering are thy prospects, airy hill, To him who, pale and languid, on thy brow Pauses, respiring, and bids hail again The upland breeze, the comfortable sun, And all the landscape's hues! Upon the point Of the descending steep I stand. How rich, How mantling in the gay and gorgeous tints Of summer! far beneath me, sweeping on, From field to field, from vale to cultured vale, The prospect spreads its crowded beauties wide! Long lines of sunshine, and of shadow, streak The farthest distance; where the passing light Alternate falls, 'mid undistinguished trees, White dots of gleamy domes, and peeping towers, As from the painter's instant touch, appear. As thus the eye ranges from hill to hill, Here white with passing sunshine, there with trees Innumerable shaded, clustering more, As the long vale retires, the ample scene, Warm with new grace and beauty, seems to live. Lives! all is animation! beauty! hope! Snatched from the dark and dreamless grave, so late, Shall I pass silent, now first issuing forth, To feel again thy fragrance, to respire Thy breath, to hail thy look, thy living look, O Nature! Let me the deep joy contrast, Which now the inmost heart like music fills, With the sick chamber's sorrows, oft from morn, Silent, till lingering eve, save when the sound Of whispers steal, and bodings breathed more low, As friends approach the pillow: so awaked From deadly trance, the sick man lifts his eyes, Then in despondence closes them on all, All earth's fond wishes! Oh, how changed are now His thoughts! he sees rich nature glowing round, He feels her influence! languid with delight, And whilst his eye is filled with transient fire, He almost thinks he hears her gently say, Live, live! O Nature, thee, in the soft winds, Thee, in the soothing sound of summer leaves, When the still earth lies sultry; thee, methinks, Ev'n now I hear bid welcome to thy vales And woods again! And I will welcome them, And pour, as erst, the song of heartfelt praise. From yonder line, where fade the farthest hills Which bound the blue lap of the swelling vale, On whose last line, seen like a beacon, hangs Thy tower,[146] benevolent, accomplished Hoare, To where I stand, how wide the interval! Yet instantaneous, to the hurrying eye Displayed; though peeping towers and villages Thick scattered, 'mid the intermingling elms, And towns remotely marked by hovering smoke, And grass-green pastures with their herds, and seats Of rural beauty, cottages and farms, Unnumbered as the hedgerows, lie between! Roaming at large to where the gray sky bends, The eye scarce knows to rest, till back recalled By yonder ivied cloisters[147] in the plain, Whose turret, peeping pale above the shade, Smiles in the venerable grace of years. As the few threads of age's silver hairs, Just sprinkled o'er the forehead, lend a grace Of saintly reverence, seemly, though compared With blooming Mary's tresses like the morn; So the gray weather-stained towers yet wear A secret charm impressive, though opposed To views in verdure flourishing, the woods, And scenes of Attic taste, that glitter near.[148] O venerable pile,[149] though now no more The pensive passenger, at evening, hears The slowly-chanted vesper; or the sounds Of "Miserere," die along the vale; Yet piety and honoured age[150] retired, There hold their blameless sojourn, ere the bowl Be broken, or the silver chord be loosed. Nor can I pass, snatched from untimely fate, Without a secret prayer, that so my age, When many a circling season has declined, In charity and peace may wait its close. Yet still be with me, O delightful friend, Soothing companion of my vacant hours, Oh, still be with me, Spirit of the Muse! Not to subdue, or hold in moody spell, The erring senses, but to animate And warm my heart, where'er the prospect smiles, With Nature's fairest views; not to display Vain ostentations of a poet's art, But silent, and associate of my joys Or sorrows, to infuse a tenderness, A thought, that seems to mingle, as I gaze, With all the works of GOD. So cheer my path, From youth to sober manhood, till the light Of evening smile upon the fading scene. And though no pealing clarion swell my fame, When all my days are gone; let me not pass, Like the forgotten clouds of yesterday, Nor unremembered by the fatherless Of the loved village where my bones are laid.

[146] Sir Richard Hoare's tower at Stourhead.

[147] Lacock Abbey.

[148] Bowood, Mr Dickenson's and Mr Methuen's magnificent mansion.

[149] Lacock Abbey.

[150] The venerable Catholic Countess, who resides in the abbey.

SUN-DIAL, IN THE CHURCHYARD OF BREMHILL.

So passes silent o'er the dead thy shade, Brief Time; and hour by hour, and day by day, The pleasing pictures of the present fade, And like a summer vapour steal away!

And have not they, who here forgotten lie (Say, hoary chronicler of ages past!) Once marked thy shadow with delighted eye, Nor thought it fled, how certain, and how fast!

Since thou hast stood, and thus thy vigil kept, Noting each hour, o'er mouldering stones beneath; The pastor and his flock alike have slept, And dust to dust proclaimed the stride of death.

Another race succeeds, and counts the hour, Careless alike; the hour still seems to smile, As hope, and youth, and life, were in our power; So smiling and so perishing the while.

I heard the village bells, with gladsome sound, When to these scenes a stranger I drew near, Proclaim the tidings to the village round, While memory wept upon the good man's bier.[151]

Even so, when I am dead, shall the same bells Ring merrily, when my brief days are gone; While still the lapse of time thy shadow tells, And strangers gaze upon my humble stone!

Enough, if we may wait in calm content, The hour that bears us to the silent sod; Blameless improve the time that heaven has lent, And leave the issue to thy will, O God!

[151] My predecessor, Rev. Nathaniel Hume, canon residentiary and precentor of Salisbury, a man of exemplary benevolence.

THE SPIRIT OF DISCOVERY BY SEA:

A DESCRIPTIVE AND HISTORICAL POEM.

INTRODUCTION.[152]

I need not perhaps inform the reader, that I had before written a Canto on the subject of this poem; but I was dissatisfied with the metre, and felt the necessity of some connecting idea that might give it a degree of unity and coherence.

This difficulty I considered as almost inseparable from the subject; I therefore relinquished the design of making an extended poem on events, which, though highly interesting and poetical, were too unconnected with each other to unite properly in one regular whole. But on being kindly permitted to peruse the sheets of Mr Clarke's valuable work on the _History of Navigation_, I conceived (without supposing _historically_ with him that all ideas of navigation were derived from the ark of Noah) that I might adopt the circumstance _poetically_, as capable of furnishing an unity of design; besides which, it had the advantage of giving a more serious cast and character to the whole.

To obviate such objections as might be made by those who, from an inattentive survey, might imagine there was any carelessness of arrangement, I shall lay before the reader a general analysis of the several books; and, I trust, he will readily perceive a leading principle, on which the poem begins, proceeds, and ends.

I feel almost a necessity for doing this in _justice_ to myself, as some compositions have been certainly misunderstood, where the _connexion_ might, by the least attention, have been perceived. In going over part of the same ground which I had taken before, I could not always avoid the use of similar expressions.

I trust I need not apologise for having, in some instances, departed from strict historical facts. It is not true that Camoens sailed with De Gama, though, from the authority of Voltaire, it has been sometimes supposed that he did. There are other circumstances for which I may have less reason to expect pardon. The Egyptians were never, or but for a short time, a maritime nation. In answer to this, I must say, that _history_ and _poetry_ are two things; and though the poet has no right to _contradict_ the historian, yet, if he find two opinions upon points of history, he may certainly take that which is most susceptible of poetical ornament; particularly if it have sufficient plausibility, and the sanction of respectable names.

In deducing the first maritime attempts from _Thebes_, so called from _Thebaoth_, the _Ark_, founded by the sons of Cush, who first inhabited the caves on the granite mountains of Ethiopia, I have followed the idea of Bruce, which has many testimonies, particularly that of Herodotus, in its favour. In making the ships of Ammon first pass the straits of Babelmandel, and sail to Ophir, I have the authority of Sir Isaac Newton. But still these points must, from their nature, be obscure; the poet, however, has a right to build upon them, whilst what he advances is not in _direct contradiction_ to all historical admitted facts. He may take what is _shadowy_, if it be _plausible_, poetical, and coherent with his general plan. Having said ingenuously thus much, I hope I shall not be severely accused for having admitted, _en passant_, some ideas (which may be thought visionary) in the notes, respecting the allusion to the ark in Theocritus, the situation of Ophir, the temple of Solomon, and the algum-tree.

I must also submit to the candour of the critic, the necessity I sometimes felt myself under of varying the verse, and admitting, when the subject seemed particularly to require it, a break into the measure. He will consider, as this poem is neither didactic, nor epic, that might lead on the mind by diversity of characters, and of prospects; it was therefore necessary (at least I thought myself at liberty so to do) to break the uniformity of the subject by digression, contrast, occasional change of verse, _et cet._ But after all, at a time so unfavourable to long poems, I doubt whether the reader will have patience to accompany me to the end of my _circumnavigation_. If he do, and if this much larger poetical work than I have ever attempted should be as favourably received as what I have before published has been, I shall sincerely rejoice.

At all events, in an age which I think has produced genuine poetry, if I cannot say "_Ed Io, anchi, sono pittore;_" it will be a consolation to me to reflect, that I have no otherwise courted the muse, than as the consoler of sorrow, the painter of scenes romantic and interesting, the handmaid of good sense, unadulterated feelings, and religious hope.

It was at first intended that the poem should consist of six books; one book being assigned to De Gama, and another to Columbus. These have been compressed. I was the more inclined to this course, as the great subject of the DISCOVERY OF AMERICA is in the hands of such poets as Mr Southey and Mr Rogers.

DONHEAD, _Nov. 3, 1804._

[152] Dedicated to His Royal Highness George Prince of Wales (afterwards George IV.)

ANALYSIS.

BOOK THE FIRST.

The book opens with the resting of the Ark on the mountains of the great Indian Caucasus, considered by many authors as Ararat: the present state of the _inhabited_ world, contrasted with its melancholy appearance immediately after the flood. The poem returns to the situation of our forefathers on leaving the ark; beautiful evening described. The Angel of Destruction appears to Noah in a dream, and informs him that although he and his family alone have escaped, the VERY ARK, which was the means of his present preservation, shall be the cause of the future triumph of Destruction.

In his dream, the evils in consequence of the discovery of America, the slave-trade, _et cet._, are set before him. Noah, waking from disturbed sleep, ascends the summit of Caucasus. An angel appears to him; tells him that the revelations in his dream were PERMITTED BY THE ALMIGHTY; that he is commissioned to explain everything; he presents to his view the _shadow of the world_ as it exists; regions are pointed out; the dispersion of mankind; the rise of superstition; the birth of a SAVIOUR, and the triumph of Charity: that navigation shall be the means of extending the knowledge of GOD over the globe; and though some evils must take place, happiness and love shall finally prevail upon the earth.

BOOK THE SECOND

Commences with an ardent wish, that as our forefather viewed the world clearly displayed before him in a vision, so we of these late days might be able, through the clouds of time, to look back upon the early ages of the globe; we might then see, in their splendour, Thebes, Edom, _et cet._; but the early history of mankind is obscure, the only certain light is from the sacred writings. By these we are informed of the _dispersion_ of earth's first inhabitants, after the flood. The descendants of HAM, after this dispersion, according to Bruce, having first gained the summits of the Ethiopian mountains, there form subterraneous abodes. In process of time they descend, people Egypt, build Thebes; obscure tradition of the Ark; first make voyages.

Ophir is not long afterwards discovered. This Bruce places, on most respectable authority, at Sofala; I have ventured to place it otherwhere, but still admitting one general idea, that when the way to it overland was attended with difficulties, an easier course was at last opened by sea. As to Ammon's exploits, I must shelter myself under the authority of Sir Isaac Newton. After a sacrifice by the Egyptians, the monsoon sets in. The ships follow its direction, as the mariners imagine a god leads them. Hence the discovery of so much of the world by _sea_. Reflection on commerce. The voyage of Solomon. A description of the glory of TYRE, the most commercial mart of the early world. Tyrian discoveries in the Mediterranean; voyages to the coast of Italy and Spain, to the Straits, and from thence to Britain.

Tyre is destroyed, and the thought naturally arises, that Britain, which, at the time of the splendour of the _maritime Tyrians_, was an obscure island, is now at the summit of maritime renown; while TYRE is a place where only "the fisherman dries his net." This leads to an EULOGIUM ON ENGLAND; and the book concludes with the triumphs of her fleets and armies on that very shore, on which science, and art, and commerce, and MARITIME RENOWN, first arose.

This digression, introducing the siege of Acre, appeared to the author not only natural, but in some measure necessary to break the uniformity of the subject.

BOOK THE THIRD

Commences with the feelings excited by the conclusion of the last, by a warm wish that England may for ages retain her present elevated rank. This leads to the consideration of her NAVAL OPULENCE, which carries us back to the subject we had left--THE FATE OF TYRE.

The history of the empires succeeding Tyre is touched on: the fall of her destroyer, Babylon; the succession of Cyrus; the character of Cyrus, and his want of enlarged policy, having so many means of encouraging commerce; and his ill-fated expedition to the East Indies.

ALEXANDER THE GREAT first conceives the idea of establishing a vast MARITIME EMPIRE: in his march of conquest, he proceeds to the last river of the Punjab, the Hyphasis, which descends into the Indus, the sources of which are near the mountains of CAUCASUS, WHERE THE ARK RESTED.

The Indian account of the Deluge, it is well known, resembles most wonderfully the history of Moses. When Alexander can proceed no further, poetical fiction introduces the person of a Brahmin, who relates the history of the Deluge: viz., that _one sacred man was_, in this part of the world, _miraculously preserved by an ark_; the further march of the conqueror towards the holy spot is deprecated: his best glory shall be derived from the sea, and from uniting either world in commerce. Alexander is animated with the idea; and his fleet, under Nearchus, proceeds down the Indus to the sea. This forms a middle, connected with the account of the Deluge, book first.

BOOK THE FOURTH.

Nearchus' voyage being accomplished, and Alexandria now complete, Commerce is represented as standing on the Pharos, and calling to all nations. The tide of commerce would have flowed still in the track pointed out by the sagacity of Alexander, but that a wider scene, beyond THE ANCIENT WORLD, opens to the VIEW OF DISCOVERY. The use of the magnet is discovered; and Henry of Portugal prosecutes the plan of opening a passage along the coast of Africa to the East. One of his ships on its return from the expedition has been driven from Cape Bojador (the formidable boundary of Portuguese research) by a storm at sea. The isle afterwards called Porto Santo is discovered. The circumstance related; but the extraordinary appearance of a supernatural shade over the waters at a distance excites many fears and superstitions. The attempt, however, to penetrate the mystery, is resolved on. Zarco reaches the island of Madeira; tomb found; which introduces the episode. At the tomb of the first discoverer (whether this be fanciful or not, is nothing to poetry) the Spirit of Discovery casts her eyes over the globe; she pursues De Gama to the East; history of Camoens touched on; Columbus; sees with triumph the discovery of a new world, and from thence extends her ideas till the great globe is encompassed; after which she returns to the "tranquil bosom of the Thames," with Drake, the first circumnavigator, whose ship, after its various perils, being laid up in that river, gives rise to some brief concluding reflections.

BOOK THE FIFTH.

Hitherto we have described only the triumphs of Discovery; but it appears necessary that many incidental evils, special and general, should be mentioned. Fate and miserable end of some great commanders,--of our gallant and benevolent countryman, Cook. After the natural feelings of regret, the mind is led to contemplate the great advantages of his voyages: the health of seamen; the accessions to geographical knowledge; the spirit of humanity and science; his exploring the east part of New-Holland; and being the first to determine the proximity of America to Asia. This circumstance leads us back from the point whence we set out--THE ARK OF NOAH; and hence we are partly enabled to solve, what has been for so many ages unknown, the difficulty{g} respecting the earth's being peopled from one family.

The poem having thus gained a middle and end, the conclusion of the whole is, that as this uncertainty in the physical world has been by DISCOVERY cleared up, so all the apparent contradictions in the moral world shall be reconciled. We have yet many existing evils to deplore; but when the SUPREME DISPOSER's plan shall have been completed, then the earth, which has been explored and enlightened by discovery and knowledge, shall be destroyed; but the MIND OF MAN, rendered at last perfect, shall endure through all ages, and "justify His ways from whom it sprung."

* * * * *

Such is the outline and plan of the following poem. I have felt myself obliged to give this hasty analysis, thinking that self-defence almost required it, lest a _careless_ reader might charge me with _carelessness of arrangement_.

I must again beg it to be remembered, that History and Poetry are two things; and that the poet has a right to build his system, not on what is exact truth, but on what is, at least, plausible; what will form, in the clearest manner, a WHOLE; and what is most susceptible of poetical ornament.

THE SPIRIT OF DISCOVERY BY SEA.

BOOK THE FIRST.