« ZurückWeiter »
Where doves in flocks the leafless trees o'ershade, And now his shorter breath, with sultry air,
In vain on father Thanies she calls for aid, the
Faint, breathless, thus she pray'd, nor pray'd in vain : The clamorous lapwings feel the leaden death; Ah, Cynthia! ab-though banish'd from thy train, Oft, as the mounting larks their notes prepare, Let me, O let me, to the shades repair, They fall, and leave their little lives in air.
My native shades ! there weep, and murmur there! In genial spring, beneath the quivering shade, She said, and, melting as in tears she lay, Where cooling vapours breathe along the mead, In a soft silver stream dissolved away. The patient fisher takes his silent stand,
The silver stream her virgin coldness keeps,
For ever murmurs, and for ever weeps;
Oft in her glass the musing shepherd spies
Now Cancer glows with Phæbus' fiery car: In the clear azure gleam the flocks are seen,
And floating forests paint the waves with green; Swarm o'er the lawns, the forest walks surround, Through the fair scene roll slow the lingering streams, Rouse the fleet hart, and cheer the opening hound. Then foaming pour along, and rush into the Thames The impatient courser pants in every vein,
Thou, too, great father of the British floods ! And, pawing, seems to beat the distant plain : With joyful pride survey'st our lofty woods; Hills, vales, and floods appear already crossid, Where towering oaks their growing honours rear, And, ere he starts, a thousand steps are lost. And future navies on thy shores appear. See the bold youth strain up the threatening steep, Not Neptune's self from all her streams receives Rush through the thickets, down the valleys sweep, | A wealthier tribute than to thine he gives. Hang o'er their coursers' heads with eager speed, No seas so rich, so gay no banks appear, And earth rolls back beneath the flying steed. No lake so gentle, and no spring so clear. Let old Arcadia boast her ample plain,
Nor Po so swells the fabling poet's lays, The immortal huntress, and her virgin train, While led along the skies his current strays, Nor envy, Windsor ! since thy shades have seen As thine, which visits Windsor's famed abodes, As bright a goddess, and as chaste a queen ; To grace the massion of our earthly gods ; Whose care, like hers, protects the sylvan reign, Nor all his stars above a lustre show, The earth's fair light, and empress of the main. Like the bright beauties on thy banks below:
Here, too, 'tis sung, of old, Diana stray'd, Where Jove, subdued by mortal passion still, And Cynthus' top forsook for Windsor shade;' Might change Olympus for a nobler hill. Here was she seen o'er airy wastes to rove, 1. Happy the man whom this bright court approves, Seek the clear spring, or haunt the pathless grove; His sovereign favours, and his country loves : Here, arm'd with silver bows, in early dawn, Happy next him, who to these shades retires, Her buskind virgins traced the dewy lawn. Whom nature charms, and whom the muse inspires,
Above the rest a rural nymph was famed, Whom humbler joys of home-felt quiet please, Thy offspring, Thames! the fair Lodona named: Successive study, exercise and ease. (Lodona's fate, in long oblivion cast,
He gathers health from herbs the forest yields,
And draws the aromatic souls of flowers :
O'er figured worlds now travels with his eye;
Of ancient writ unlocks the learned store, And with her dart the flying deer she wounds. Consults the dead, and lives past ages o'er : It chanced, as eager of the chase, the maid Or wandering thoughtful in the silent wood, Beyond the forest's verdant limits stray'd,
Attends the duties of the wise and good, Pan saw and loved, and burning with desire T": observe a mean, be to himself a friend, Pursued her flight; her flight increased his fire. To follow Nature, and regard his end, Not half so swift the trembling doves can fly, Or looks on Heaven with more than mortal eyes, When the fierce eagle cleaves the liquid sky; Bids his free soul expatiate in the skies, Not half so swiftly the fierce eagle moves,
Amid her kindred stars familiar roam, When thro' the clouds he drives the trembling doves; Survey the region, and confess her home! As from the god she flew with furious pace, Such was the life great Scipio once admired, Or as the god, more furious, urged the chace. Thus Atticus, and Trumbull thus retired. Now fainting, sinking, pale, the nymph appears; Ye sacred Nine! that all my soul possess, Now close behind, his sounding steps she hears; Whose raptures fire me, and whose visions bless, And now his shadow reach'd her as she run, Bear me, O bear me to sequester'd scenes, His shadow lengthen'd by the setting sun;
The bowery mazes, and surrounding greens ; '
To Thames's banks which fragrant breezes fill, | In that blest moment from his oozy bed
His swelling waters and alternate tides ;
And on their banks Augusta rose in gold:
Around his throne the sea-born brothers stood,
First the famed authors of his ancient name,
The Kennet swift, for silver eels renown'd; And on his willows hung each muse's lyre. . . The Loddon slow, with verdant alders crown'd:
Since fate relentless stopp'd their heavenly voice, Cole, whose dark streams his flowery islands lave; No more the forests ring, or groves rejoice; And chalky Wey, that rolls a milky wave : Who now shall charm the shades where Cowley The blue, transparent Vandalis appears; strung.
The gulfy Lee his sedgy tresses rears; His living harp, and lofty Denham sung?
And sullen Mole, that hides his diving fiood; .. But hark! the groves rejoice, the forest rings! And silent Darent stain'd with Danish blood. Are these revived ? or is it Granville sings?
High in the midst, upon' his urn reclined 'Tis yours, my lord, to bless our soft retreats, (His sea-green mantle waving with the wind,) And call the muses to their ancient seats;
The god appear'd : he turn’d his azure eyes To paint anew the flowery sylvan scenes,
Where Windsor-domes and pompous turrets rise ; To crown the forest with immortal greens,
Then bow'd, and spoke ; the winds forget 10 roar, Make Windsor hills in lofty numbers rise,
And the hush'd waves glide softly to the shore : And lift her turrets nearer to the skies;
| Hail, sacred peace! hail, long expected days, To sing those honours you deserve to wear, That Thames's glory to the stars shall raise ; And add new lustre to her silver star.
Though Tiber's streams immortal Rome behold, Here noble Surrey felt the sacred rage,
Though foaming Hermus swells with tides of gold, Surrey, the Granville of a former age:
From heaven itself though sevenfold Nilus flows, Matchless his pen, victorious was his lance,
And harvests on a hundred realms bestows; Bold in the lists, and graceful in the dance; These now no more shall be the muses' themes, In the same shades the Cupids tuned his lyre, Lost in my fame, as in the sea their streams. To the same notes of love and soft desire:
Let Volga's banks with iron squadrons shine, Fair Geraldine, bright object of his vow,
And groves of lances glitter on the Rhine ; Then fill'd the groves, as heavenly Mira now. Let barbarous Ganges arm a servile train,
Oh, wouldst thou sing what heroes Windsor bore, Be mine the blessings of a peaceful reign. What kings first breathed upon her winding shore ! No more my sons shall dye with British blood Or raise old warriors, whose adored remains Red Iber's sands, or Ister's foaming flood : In weeping vaults her hallow'd earth contains ! Safe on my shore each unmolested swain With Edward's acts adorn the shining page, Shall tend the flocks, or reap the bearded grain: Stretch his long triumphs down through every age; The shady empire shall retain no trace Draw monarchs chain'd, and Cressi's glorious field, of war or blood, but in the sylvan chace : The lilies blazing on the regal shield!
The trumpet sleep, while cheerful horns are blown, Then, from her roofs when Verrio's colours fall, And arms employ'd on birds and beasts alone. And leave inanimate the naked wall,
Behold! the ascending villas on my side, Still in thy song should vanquish'd France appear, Project long shadows o'er the crystal tide. And bleed for ever under Britain's spear.
Behold! Augusta's glittering spires increase, Let softer strains ill-fated Henry mourn,
And temples rise, the beauteous works of peace. And palms eternal flourish round his urn: . I see, I see, where two fair cities bend Here o'er the martyr-king the marble weeps, Their ample bow, a new Whitehall ascend! And, fast beside him, once-fear'd Edward sleeps: | There mighty nations shall inquire their doom, Whom not the extended Albion could contain, The world's great oracle in times to come; From old Belerium to the northern main,
There kings shall sue, and suppliant states be seen The grave unites; where e'en the great find rest Once more to bend before a British queen. And blended lie the oppressor and the oppress'd! l'Thy trees, fair Windsor! now shall leave their woods
Make sacred Charles's tomb for ever known And half thy forests rush into the floods ; (Obscure the place, and uninscribed the stone:) Bear Britain's thunder, and her cross display, Oh fact accursed! what tears has Albion shed ? To the bright regions of the rising day; Heavens, what new wounds! and how her old have Tempt icy seas, where scarce the waters roll, bled!
Where clearer flames glow round the frozen pole; She saw her sons with purple deaths expire, Or under southern skies exalt their sails, Her sacred domes involved in rolling fire,
Led by new stars, and borne by spicy gales ! A dreadful series of intestine wars,
For me the balm shall bleed, and amber flow,
The coral redden, and the ruby glow,
The time shall come, when free as seas or wind, By music, minds an equal temper know,
If in the breast tumultuous joys arise,
Music her soft, assuasive voice applies; Earth's distant ends our glory shall behold,
Or, when the soul is press'd with cares, And the new world launch forth to seek the old 1 Exalts her in enlivening airs. Then ships of uncouth form shall stem the tide, Warriors she fires with animated sounds; And feather'd people crowd my wealthy side, Pours balm into the bleeding lover's wounds. And naked youths and painted chiefs admire
Melancholy lifts her head, Our speech, our colour, and our strange attire!
Morpheus rouses from his bed, Oh, stretch thy reign, fair peace! from shore to Sloth unfolds her arms and wakes, shore,
Listening envy drops her snakes, Till conquest cease, and slavery be no more;
Intestine war no more our passions wage, Till the freed Indians in their native groves
And giddy factions bear away their rage. Reap their own fruits, and woo their sable loves;
But when our country's cause provokes to arms Peru once more a race of kings behold, And other Mexioos be rooff'd with gold.
How martial music every bosom warms! Exiled by thee from earth to deepest hell,
So when the first bold vessel dared the seas, In brazen bonds shall barbarous discord dwell:
High on the stern the Thracian raised his strain
While Argo saw her kindred trees
Descend from Pelion to the main.
Transported demi-gods stood round,
And men grew heroes at the sound,
Inflamed with glory's charms :
Each chief his sevenfold shield display'd
And half unsheathed the shining blade :
And seas, and rocks, and skies rebound
To arms, to arms, to arms!
But when through all the infernal bounds,
Which flaming Plegethon surrounds, And bring the scenes of opening fate to light;
Love, strong as death, the poet led My humble muse, in unambitious strains,
To the pale nations of the dead, Paints the green forests and the flowery plains,
What sounds were heard, Where peace descending, bids her olive spring,
What scenes appear'd, And scatters blessings from her dove-like wing.
O'er all the dreary coasts! E'en I more sweetly pass my careless days,
Dreadful gleams, Pleased in the silent shade with empty praise;
: Dismal screams, Enough for me, that to the listening swains
Fires, that glow,
Shrieks of woe,
And cries of tortured ghosts :
But, hark! he strikes the golden lyre :
And see! the tortured ghosts respire.
See, shady forms advance!
Thy stone, O Sisyphus, stands still,
Ixion rests upon his wheel, DESCEND, ye Nine: descend and sing:
And the pale spectres dance! The breathing instruments inspire ;
The Furies sink upon their iron beds, Wake into voice each silent string,
And snakes uncurl'd hang listening round their heads And sweep the sounding lyre!
By the streams that ever flow,
By the fragrant winds that blow
O'er the Elysian flowers;
By those happy souls, who dwell
In yellow meads of asphodel,
Or amaranthine bowers!
By the hero's armed shades,
Glittering through the gloomy glades;
By the youths that died for love,
Wandering in the myrtle grove,
Restore, restore Eurydice to life :.
He sung, and hell consented
To hear the poet's prayer;
Stern Proserpine relented,
And gave him back the fair.
Thus song could prevail
O'er death and o'er hell;
A conquest how hard and how glorious !
Antistrophe 1. Though fate had fast bound her
Oh heaven-born sisters ! source of art! With Styx nine times round her,
Who charm the sense, or mend the heart; Yet music and love were victorious.
Who lead fair virtue's train along, But soon, too soon the lover turns his eyes :
Moral truth and mystic song ! Again she falls, again she dies, she dies !
To what new clime, what distant sky, How wilt thou now the fatal sisters move ?
Forsaken, friendless, shall ye fly? No crime was thine, if 'tis no crime to love.
Say, will ye bless the bleak Atlantic shore ? Now'under hanging mountains
Or bid the furious Gaul be rude no more? Beside the falls of fountains,
Strophe 2. Or where Hebrus wanders,
When Athens sinks by fates unjust,
When wild barbarians spurn her dust!
Perhaps e'en Britain's utmost shore
Shall cease to blush with stranger's gore:'.
See arts her savage sons controul,
And Athens rising near the pole!
Till some new tyrant lifts his purple hand, Now with furies surrounded,
And civil madness tears them from the land Despairing, confounded,
· Antistrophe 2. He trembles, he glows,
Ye gods ! what justice rules the ball ? Amidst Rhodope's snows:
Freedom and arts together fall; See, wild as the winds, o'er the desert he flies ;
Fools grant whate'er ambition craves, Hark! Hæmus resounds with the Bacchanals' cries And men once ignorant are slaves. Ah see, he dies!
O cursed effects of civil hate, Yet e'en in death Eurydice he sung:
In every age, in every state! Eurydice still trembled on his tongue:
Still, when the lust of tyrant power succeeds, Eurydice the woods,
Some Athéns perishes, some Tully bleeds.
Oh tyrant Love! hast thou possess'd
The prudent, learn'd, and virtuous breast ?
Wisdom and wit in vain reclaim,
And arts but sofien us to feel thy flame.
Love, soft intruder, enters here,
But entering learns to be sincere. And to her Maker's praise confined the sound,
Marcus, with blushes owns he loves, When the full organ joins the tuneful quire,
And Brutus tenderly reproves. The immortal powers incline their ear :
Why, virtue, dost thou blame desire, Borne on the swelling notes our souls aspire,
Which nature hath impress'd ? While solemn airs improve the sacred fire';
Why, nature, dost thou soonest fire And angels lean from heaven to hear.
The mild and generous breast ? Of Orpheus now no more let poets tell;
Chorus. To bright Cecilia greater power is given: ,
Love's purer flames the gods approve; His numbers raised a shade from hell,
The gods and Brutus bend to love :
Brutus for absent Porcia sighs,
What is loose love? a transient gust,
Spent in a sudden storm of lust;
A vapour fed from wild desire;.
A wandering, self-consuming fire.
But Hymen's kinder flames unite, Altered from Shakspeare by the Duke of Buckingham:
And burn for ever one; at whose desire these two Chorusses were composed, Chaste as cold Cynthia's virgin light, to supply as many wanting in his Play. They were
Productive as the sun. sel many years afterwards by the famous Bononcini,
Semichorus, and performed at Buckingham house.
Oh source of every social tie,
United wish, and mutual joy!
What various joys on one attend,
As son, as father, brother, husband, friend.
While thousand grateful thoughts arise ;
Or meets his spouse's fonder eye; And Epicurus lay inspired!
Or views his smiling progeny; In vain your guiltless laurels stood
What tender passions take their turns. Unspotted long with human blood.
What homc-felt raptures move! War, horrid war, your thoughtful walks invades, His heart now melts, now leaps, now burns, And steel now glitters in the muses' shades.
With reverence, hope, and love.
Fires that scorch, yet dare not shine:
Sacred Hymen ! these are thine.
with some taste, but spoiled by false education, ver 19 to 25. The multitude of critics, and causes of them, ver. 26 to 45. That we are to study our own taste, and know the limits of it, ver. 46 to 67. Nature the best guide of judgment, ver. 68 to 87. Improved by art and rules, which are but methodized nature, ver. 88. Rules derived from the practice of ancient poets, ver. 88 to 110. That therefore the ancients are necessary to be studied by a critic, particularly Homer' and Virgil, ver. 120 to 138. Of licenses, and the use of them by the ancients, ver. 140 to 180. Reverence due to the ancients, and praise of them, ver. 181, &c.
ODE ON SOLITUDE. 'Tis hard to say, if greater want of skill Written when the Author was about twelve years old. Appear in writing, or in judging ill;' , HAPPY the man whose wish and care
But of the two, Jess dangerous is the offence A few paternal acres bound,
To tire our patience, than mislead our sense.
Some few in that, but numbers err in this;
Ten censure wrong for one who writés amiss;
| A fool might once himself alone expose; Whose flocks supply him with attire;
Now one'in verse makes many more in prose. Whose trees in summer yield him shade,
'Tis with our judgments as our watches; none In winter fire.
Go just alike, yet each believes his own. 10
In poets as true genius is but rare, Bless'd, who can unconcernedly find
True taste as seldom is the critic's share; Hours, days, and years, slide soft away,
Both must alike from Heaven derive their light; In health of body, peace of mind,
These born to judge, as well as those to write.
Let such teach others who themselves excel,
And censure freely, who have written well : Together mix'd; sweet recreation,
Authors are partial to their wit, 'tis true;
But are not critics to their judgment too ?
Yet, if we look more closely, we shall find
Most have the seeds of judgment in their mind: 20 Thus unlamented, let me die,
Nature affords at least a glimmering light; Steal from the world, and not a stone
The lines, though touch'd but faintly, are drawn right.
But as the slightest sketch, if justly traced,
So by false learning is good sense defaced : '
Some are bewilder'd in the maze of schools,
And some made coxcombs nature meant but fools. The dying Christian to his Soul.
In search of wit these lose their common sense, VITAL spark of heavenly flame!
And then turn critics in their own defence : Quit, oh quit this mortal frame:
Each burns alike, who can, or cannot write, 30 Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying
Or with a rival's or an eunuch's spite. . Oh the pain, the bliss of dying!
All fools have still an itching to deride, Cease, fond Nature, cease thy strife,
And fain would be upon the laughing side.
If Mævius scribble in Apollo's spite,
There are who judge still worse than he can write.
Some have at first for wits, then poets pass'd; What is this absorbs me quite,
Turn'd critics next, and proved plain fools at last. Steals my senses, shuts my sight,
Some neither can for wits nor critics pass, Drowns my spirits, draws my breath?
As heavy mules are neither horse nor ass. Tell me, my soul, can this be death?
Those half-learn'd witlings, numerous in our isle, 40 The world recedes; it disappears!
As half-form'd insects on the banks of Nile;
Unfinish'd things, one knows not what to call,
Their generation's so equivocal:
Or one vain wit's, that might a hundred tire.
But you, who seek to give and merit fame,
How far your genius, taste, and learning, go;
Launch not beyond your depth, but be discreet,
And mark that point where sense and dulness meet.
Nature to all things fix'd the limits fit,'
And wisely cạrb'd proud man's pretending wit: ntroduction. That it is as great a fault to judge ill, as
As on the land while here the ocean gains, to write ill, and a more dangerous one to the public. In other parts it leaves wide sandy plains; ver. l. That a true taste is as rare to be found as a|Thus in the soul while memory prevails, true genius, ver. 9 to 18. That most men are born.The solid power of understanding fails;