Abbildungen der Seite

Scarce stole a breeze to wave the leafy spray, Forget that e'er my wrapt attention hung
Searce trill'd sweet Philomel her softest lay, Or on the Sage's or the Poet's tongue;
When Locke walk'd musing forth! c'en now I Calm and resign'd my humbler lot embrace,
Majestic Wisdom thron'd upon his brow; [view And, pleas'd, prefer oblivion to disgrace.
View Candor smile upon his modest cheek,
And from his eye all Judgement's radiance break.
"Twas here the sage his manly zeal expressid, $ 115. Epistolary Verses to George Colman, Ex
Here stripp'd vain Falsehood of her gaudy vest ;

written in the Year 1756. Here Truth's collected beams first fill'd his mind,

By Mr. Robert LLOYD.
Ere long to burst in blessings on mankind ;
Ere long to show to reason's purged eye, You know, dear George, I'm none of those
That “ Nature's first best gift was Liberty." That condescend to write in prose :

Proud of this won'drous son, sublime I stood, Inspir'd with pathos and sublime,
( While louder surges swell’d my rapid food); I always soar — in doggrel rhyme ;
Then, vain as Niobe, exulting cried, And scarce can ask you how you do,
Ilissus ! roll thy fam'd Athenian tide ; Without a jingling line or two.
Tho' Plato's steps oft mark'd thy neighb'ring Besides, I always cook delight in
Tho' fair Lycæum lent its awful shade, [glade, What bears the name of easy writing ;
Tho' ev'ry Academic green impress'd

Perhaps the reason makes it please
Its image full on thy reflecting breast, Is, that I find 'tis writ with ease.
Yet my pure stream shall boast as proud a name, I vent a notion here in private,
And Britain's Isis flow with Attic fame. Which public taste can ne'er connive at,
Alas! how chang'd! where now that Attic Which ihinks no wit or judgement greater

Than Addison, and his Spectator; See ! Gothic Licence rage o'er all my coast ; Who says (it is no matter where, See! Hydra Faction spreads its impious reign, But that he says it I can swear) Poison each breast, and madden ev'ry brain : With easy verse most bards are smitten, Hence frontless crowds that, not content to fright Because they thiuk it's easy written ; The blushing Cynthia from her throne of night, Whereas, the easier it appears, Blast the fair face of day; and, madly bold, The greater marks of care it wears ; To Freedon's foes infernal orgies hold; Of which to give an explanation, To Freedom's foes, ah! see the goblet crown'd, Take this, by way of illustration : Hear plausive shouts to Freedom's foes resound; The fam'd Nat. Prior, it is said, The horrid notes my refluent waters daunt, Oft bit his nails, and scratch'd his head, The Echoes groan, the Dryads quit their haunt; And chang'd a thought a hundred times, Learning, that once to all diffus'd her beam, Because he did not like the rhyines: Now sheds, by stealth, a partial private gleam To make my meaning clear, and please ye, In some lone cloister's inelancholy shade, In short, he labor'd to write easy. Where a firm few support her sickly head, And yet no Critic e'er detines Despis’d, insulted, by the barb'rous train, His poem's into labor'd lines. Who scour, like Thracia's moon-struck sout, I have a simile will hit him ; the plain,

His verse, like clothes, was made to fit him ; Sworn foes, like them, to all the Muse approves, Which (as no taylor e'er denied) All Phæbus favors, or Minerva loves. The better fit the more they're tried.

Are these the sons my fost'ring breast mastrear, Thongh I have mentioned Prior's nanr, Grac'd with my name, and nurtur'd by my care? Think not I aim at Prior's fame. Must these go forth from my maternal hand 'Tis the result of admiration To deal their insults thro' a peaceful land ; To spend itself in imitation; And boast, while Freedom bleeds, and Virtue If initation may be said, graans,

Whicir is in one by nature bred,
That “ Isis taught Rebellion to her Sons ? And you hare betier proofs than these
Forbid it, Heaven! and let my rising waves That I'ın idolater of Ease.
Indignant swell, and whelm the recreant slaves! Who, but a inadman would engage
In England's cause their patriot Hoods en płoy, A Poet in the present age ?
As Xanthus delug'd in tlie cause of Troy. Write what we will, our works bespeak us
Is this denied ; then point some secret way Imitatores, SCTUUM Prcus.
Where far, far hence these guiltless streams Tale, Elegy, or lofty Odle,
may stray;

{spreads We travel in the beaten road :
Some unknown cltanne! lend, where Nature The proverb still sticks closely by us,
Inglorious vales, and unfrequented ineads : Nil dictum, quod non dictum prius.
There', where a hind scarces tures hisrusticstrain, The only coinfott that I know
Where scarce a pilgrim treads the pathless plain, Is, that 'twas said an age ago,
Content I'll fow; forget that e'er my tide Ere Milton soar'd in thought sublime,
Saw yon ntajestic structures crown its side; Ere Pope refin'd thre chink of rhyme,

Ere § 116.

your door.

Ere Colman wrote in style so pure,


his name these verses save, Or the great Town the Connoisseur ;

Be these inscrib'd upon his grare : Ere I burlesqu'd the rural cit,

Know, Reader, that on Thursday died Proud to hedge in my scraps of wit,

“ The Connoisseur, a Suicide ! And, happy in the close connexion,

" Yet think not that his soul is Aed, T'acquire some name from their reflection : “ Nor rank him 'mongst the vulgar dead, So (the similitude is irite)

“ Howe'er defunct you set hiin down,
The moon still shines wiih borrow'd light; He's only going out of town."
And, like the race of modern beaux,
Ticks with the sun for her lac'd clothes.

Methinks there is no better time
To show the use I make of rhyine,

Ode to Arthur Onslow, Esgt. Than now, when I, who from beginning Was always fond of couplet-sinning,

This goodly frame what virtue so approves, Presuming on good-nature's scoré,

And testifies the pure ethereal spirit, Thus lay my bantling at

As mild Benevolence! The first advantage which I see

She, with her sister Mercy, still awaits Is, that I ranıhle loose and free:

Beside th' eternal ihrone of Jove, The bard indeed full oft complains

And measures forth with unwithdràwing hand That rhymes are fetters, links, and chains;

The blessings of the various year, And, when he wants to leap the fence, Sunshine or show'r, and chides the malding Still keeps him pris'ner to the sense.


[rity, Howe'er in common-place he rage,

With her the heaven-bred nymph, meek ChaRhyme 's like your fetiers on the stage, Shall fashion Onslow forth in fairest portrait; Which, when the player once hath wore,

And with recording care It makes him only strut the more,

Weave the fresh wreath that flow'ring virtue While, raving in pathetic strains,

claims. He shakes his legs to clank his chains.

But, oh, what Muse shall join the band? From rhyme, as from a handsome face, He long has sojourn'd in the sacred haunts, Nonsense acquires a kind of grace;

And knows cach whisp'ring grol and I therefore give it all its scope,

glade That sense inay, unperceiv'd, elope.

Trod by Apollo and the light-foot Graces, Soll -r of basest tricks

How then shall savkward gratitude, (I love a Aing at politics)

And the presumption of uncuiar'd duly, Amuse the nation, court, and king,

Attune my nnnibers, all too rude? With breaking F-kes, and hanging Byng;

Little he recks the meed of such a song; And make each puny rogue a prey,

Yet will I stretch aloof, While they, the greater, slink away.

And when I tell of Courtesy, This simile, perhaps, would strike,

Of well-attemper'd Zeal, If match'd with something more alike; Of awful Prudence soothing fell Contention, Then take it dress'd a second time

Where shall the lincaments agree In Prior's Ease, and my Sublime.

But in thee, Onslow ? You your wonted leave Say, did you never chance to meet

Indulge me, nor misdeem a soldier's bold emA mob of people in the street,

prize, Ready to give ihe robb’d relief,

Who, in the dissonance of barb'rmus war And in all haste to catch a thief;

Long train'd, revisits of the sacred treasures While the sly rogue who filch'd the prey,

Of antiquc memory Too close beset to run away,

Or where sage Pindar reins his ficry car Stop thief! stop thief! exclaims aloud,

Through the vast vault of Heaven secure, And so escapes among the crowd ?

Or what th' Attic Murse that Homer fillid, So Ministers, &c.

Her other son, thy Milton langht, O England, how I inourn thy fate! Or range the flow'ry fields of gentle Spencer. For sure thy losses now are great ;

And, ever as I go, allurements vain Two such what Briton can endure?

Cherish a feeble fire, and feed my idle Minorca, and the Connoisseur !

Fancy: oh could I once To-day, or c'er the sun goes down,

Charm to their melody my shrilling reeds! Will die the Censor, Mr. Town!

To Henries and to Edwards old, He dies, whoe'er takes pains to con him, Dread names! I'd meditate the faithful song; With “ blushing honors thick upon him :"

Or tell what time Britannia, • September 30th, 1756, when Mr. Town, author of the Connoisseur, a periodical Essay (since published in four volumes, printed for R. Baldwin, London), took leave of his readers, with an hu. morous account of himself.

This elegant Poem was written by a Gentleman well known in the learned world, as a token of gra. titude for favors conferred on his father during the last war, whose character he has therein assumed

kk 2 Whiloin ful peal,

Whilom the fairest daughter of old Ocean, Hark! yon deepecho strikes the trembling ear! In loathly disarray, dull eyes,

See night's dun curtain wraps the darksome pole! And faded cheek, wept o'er her abject sons : O'er heaven's blue arch yon rolling worlds apTill William, great deliverer!

pear, Led on the comely train, Liberty, And rouse to solemn thought, th' aspiring soul Religion, matron staid,

O lead my steps beneath the moon's dim ray, With all her kindred goddesses ;

Where Tádmor stands all desert and alone! Justice, with steady brow,

While from her time-shook tow'rs the bird of Trim Plenty, laureat Peace, and green-hair'd


[moan. Commerce,

Sounds thro' the night her long-resounding In flowing rest of thousand hues.

Or bear me far to yon dark, dismal plain, Fain would I shadow out old Bourbon's pile Where fell-eyed tigers, all athirst for blood, Tote’ring with doubtful weight, and threat'ving Howl to the desert: while the horrid train cumb'rous fall;

Roams o'er the wild where once great Babel Or trace our navy, where in tow'ring pride

stood; O'er the wide swelling waste it rolls avengeful. That queen of nations! whose superior call

As when collected clouds Forth from the gloomy south, in deep array, When warm'd to mirth, let judgement mark her

Rous'd the broad East, and bid her arms destror! Athwart the dark ning landscape throng, Fraught with loud storins, and thunder's dread

And deep reflection dash the lip of joy. [fall, Short is Ambition's


deceitful dream, At which the murd'rer stands ayhast,

Through wreaths of blooining laurel bind her

brow: And wasting Riot ill dissembles terror.

How hcadlong Rhone and Ebro, erst distain'd Calm thought dispels the visionary scheme, With Moorish carnage, quakes thro' all her And Time's cold breath dissolves the with'ring branches !

bough. Soon shall I greet the morn, [name, Slow as some minor saps th' aspiring tow'r, When, Europe sav'd, Britain and George's When working ecret with destructive aim, Shall sound o'er Flandria's level field,

Unscen, unheard, thus moves the stealing hour, Familiar in domestic merriment;

But works the fall of empire, pomp, and naine. Or by the jolly mariner

Then let thy pencil mark the traits of inan; Be carol'd loud adown the echoing Danube. Full in the draught be keen-eyed Hope porThe just memorial of fair deeds

tray'd : Still flourishes, and, like th' untainted soul, Let flutt'ring Cupids crowd the growing plan: Blossoms in freshest age above

Then give one tonch, and dash it deepwith shade. The weary flesh, and envy's rankling wound. Beneath the plume that fames with glancing

Such, after years mature,
In full account shall be thy mecd.


Be Care's deep engines on the soul impress id; Oh inay your rising hope

Beneath the hemlet's keen refulgent blaze Well principled in ev'ry virtue bloom !

Let Grief sit pining in the canker'd breast. Till a fresh-springing flock implore Withinfanthands a grandsire's pow'rfelpray's, Let Love's giay sons, a smiling train, appear, Or round your honord couch their prattling With beauty pierc'd-- yet heedless of the dart : sports pursue.

While,closely-couchid, pale, sick’ning Envyneas

Whets hier téll sting, and points it at the heart. 117. Ode to Melancholy. OGILVIE. Perch'd, like a raven, on some blasted yew, Hail, queen of thought sublime! propitious Let Guilt resolve the thought-distracting sin: pow's,


Scari' while her eyes survey th'ethereal blue, Who o'er the unbounded waste art joy d to Lest heaven's strong lightning burst the dark Led by the moon, when, at the inidnight hour,

within. Her pale rays iremble thro' the dusky gloom. Then paint, impending o'er the maddening deep O bear rhę, Goddess, to thy peaceful scat!

That sock, where heart-struck Sappho, rainly Whether to Hecla's cloud-wrapt brow conveyd, stood firm of soul--then from the dizzy steep

brave, Qrlodg'd where mountains screen thydeepretreat, Or wand'ring wild thro' Chili's boundless shade? | Impetuvus sprung, and dash'd the boiling ware. Şay, rove the steps o'er Libya's naked waste? Here, wrapt in studious thought, let Fancy rove, Or seek some distant solitary shore?

Still prompt to mark Suspicion's secret snare; Or, on the Ande's topmost inountain placid, To see where Anguish nips the bloom of Love, Dust sit, and hear the solemn thunder roar? Or trace more Grandeur to the domes of Care. Fix'd on some hanging rock's projected brow, Should e'er Ambition's tow'ring hopes infame, Hearst thou low murmursfrom the distantdome? Let judging reason draw the veil aside ; Or stray thy feet where pale, dejected Woe Or, fur’s with envy at some mighty naine, Pours her long wail from some lamented tomb? Read o'er the monument that tells - Hled ed.



1. 3

What are the ensigns of imperial sway? 'Or where the violet palc
What all that Forine's lib’ralhand has brought? Droops o'er the green-embroider'd stream;
Teach they the voice to pour a sweeter lay? Or where young Zephyr stirs the rustling sprays,
Ör rouse the soul to more exalted thought? Lies al dissolv'd in fairy dream.
When bleeds the heart as Genius blooms un-


yon bleak deseri's unfrequented round known ?

Seest'thou where Nature treads the deep'ning When melts thecreo'er Virtnie's mournful bier? gloom, Not wealth, but pity, swells the bursting groan: Sits on yon hoary tow'r with ivy crown'd, Not pow'r, but whisp'ring Nature, prompts the Or wildly wails o'er thy lamented tomb ?

Hearst thouthesolemn music wind along? [song? Sav, gentle mourner, in yon mouldy vault,

Or thrills the warbling note in thy inellifluous Where the worm fattens on some scepter'd brow,

I. 2. Beneath that roof with sculptur'd marblefraught, Oft, while on earth, 'twas thine to rore Why słceps unmord the breathless dust below? Where'er the wild-ey'd goddess lov'd to roam, Sleeps it more sweetly than the simple swain

To trace serene the gloomy grove, Beneath some mossy turf that rests his head ;

Or haunt meek Quiet's simple dome; Where the lone widow tells the night her pain, Stilt hovering round the Nine appear, And eve with dewy tears embalnıs ilie dead ? That pour the soul transporting strain ; The lily, screen'd from ev'ry ruder gale,

Join'd to the Loves' gay irain, Courts not the cultur'd spot where roses spring; The loose rob’d Graces, crown'd with flow'rs, Bur hlows neglected in the peaceful vale,

The light wing'd gales that lead the vernal year, And scents the zephyr's balmy breathing wing. And wake the rosy-featurd' hours. The busts of grandeur, and the pomp of pow's, How Aamid thy bosom as her charms reveal!

D'er all bright Fancy's beamy radiance shone, Can these bid Sorrow's gushing tears subside ? Her fire-clad eye sublime, her starry zone, Can these avail in that tremendous hour, (tide ? Her traces loose, that wanton'd on the gale: When Death's cold hand congeals the purple On thee the goddess tix'd her ardent look, Ah no! the mighty names are heard no more': Then from her glowing lips these melting ac: Pride's thought sublime, and Beauty's kindling

cents broke: bloon, Serre but to sport one flying momento'er,'

“ To thee my favorite son, belong And swell with pompous verse th' escuicheon'd

The lays that steal the list'ning hour ; tomb.

To pour the rapture-darting song, For me- may Passiou ne'er my soul invade, Nor be the whins of tow’ring Phrouzy givin ;. « Froin Nature's hand to snatch the dart,

“ To paint gay Hope's Elysian bower. Let Wealth ve'er court ine from the peaceful • To cleave with pangs the bleeding heart; shade

(ven !

“ Or lightly sweep the trembling string,
Where Contemplation wings the soul to Hea- " And call the Loves with purple wing.
Oh guard me safe from Joy's enticing snare! “ From the blue deep, where they dwell
With each extreme that Pleasure tries to hide, “ With Naiads in the pearly cell.
The poison'd breath of slow-consuming Care, “ Soft on the sea-born goddess gaze t ;
The noise of Folly, and the dreams of Pride. Or in the loose robes' Aoating maze,
But oft, when midnight's sadly solemu knell “ Dissolv'd in downy slumbers rest ;
Sounds long and distant froin the sky-topt tow'r," Or Autter o'er her panting breast.
Calm let me sit in Prosper's lonely cell*, “ Or wild to melt the yielding soul,
Or walk with Milton thro' the dark obscure. “ Let Sorrow, clad in sable stole,
Thus, when the transient dream of life is fled, “ Slow to thy musing thought appear ;
May some sad friend recal the former years; “ Or pensive Pity, pale ;,
Then, stretch'd in silence o'er my dusty bed, “ Or Love's desponding tale

[tear." Pour the warm gush of syınpathetic tcars.

“ Call from th' intender'd heart the sympathetic

II. 1. $118. Ode to the Genius of Shakspeare.

Say, whence the magic of thy mind?

Why thrills thy music on the spring of thought:

Why, at thy pencil's touch refind,
I. 1.

Starts into life the glowing draught?
Rapt from the glance of mortal eye, On yonder fairy carpet laid,
Say, bursts thy Genius to the world of light? Where beauty pours eternal bloom,
Seeks it yon star-bespangled sky?

And zephyr breathes perfuine;
Or skimś its fields with rapid Aight? There nightly to the tranced eye
Or, mid yon plains where Fancy strays,

Profuse the radiant goddess stood display'd, Courts it the balmy breathing gale ?

With all her smiling offspring nigh.
• See Shakspeare's Tempest,

+ Venus,
Kk 3


Sudden the mantling cliff, the arching wood, Hears not the mourner's unavailing moan : The broider'd mead, the landscape and ihe grove, Heart-pierc'd he bleeds; and, stung with wild Hills, vales, and sky-dipe seas, and torrents rude, slespair,

[hair. Grots, rills, and shades,and bow'rs, that breath'd Bares his tine-blasted head, and tears his silver of love,

III. 2. All burst to sight! while glancing on the view, Lo! on yon long-resounding shore, Tilania's sporting train brush'd lightly o'er the Where the rock tollers o'er the headlong deepi II. 2.

[dew. What phantoins bath'd in infant gore The pale ey'd Genius of the shade

Stand mult'ring on the dizzy sleep! Led thy bold step to Prosper's magic how'r ;

Their murmur shakes the zephyr's wing! Whose voice the howling winds obey'd,

The storm obeys their powerful spell; Whose dark spell chain d the rapid hour :

See from this glooiny cell Then rose serene the sea-girt isle;

Fierce Winter starts! his scowling eye Gay scenes, by lancy's touch refin’d, Blols the fair mantle of the breathing Spring, Glow'd to the inusing mind:

And lowers along the ruffled sky, Such visions bless the hermii's dream,

To the deep vault the yelling harpies rung; When hovering angels prompt his placid smile, Its yawning mouth receives th' inferval crew, Or paint soine high ecsiatic iheme.

Diin thro' the black gloom winks the glimmerThen fam’d Miranda on th' enraptur'd gaze,

ing sun, Then sail'd bright Arielon the bat's feet wing: And the pale furnace gleams with brimstoneblue. Or starts the list'ning throng in still amaze,

Hell howls; andfiends,that join the dire acclaim, The wild note irembling on the aërial string!

Dance on the bubbling tide, and point the The forin, in heaven's resplendent vesture gay,

livid flame. Floais on the mantling cloud, aud pours the

III. 3.
mclting lay*

But, ah! on Sorrow's cypress bough
II. 3.

Can beauty breathe her genial bloom?
Oh lay me near yon limpid stream,

On Death's cold cheek will passion glow! \Vhose murmur soothes the car of woe!

Or Music warble from the tomb? Tiere in some sweet poetic dream

There sleeps the Bard, whose tuveful tongue Let Fancy's bright Elysiudi glow!

Pour'd the full stream of mazy song. l'is done -oer all the blushing mead

Young Spring, with lip of ruby, here The dark wood shakes his cloudy head: from her lap the blushing year; Below, the lily-fringed dale

While, along the turf reclin'd, Breathes its nuild fragrance on the gale;

The loose wing swimming on the wind, While, in pastime all unseen,

The Loves, with forward gesture bold, Titania, rob'd in mantle green,

Sprinkle the sod with spangling gold : Sports on the mossy bank : her train

And oft the blue-eyed Graces trim Skinis light along the gleaming plaiu :

Dance lightly round on downy limb, Or to the Autl'ring breeze unfold

Oft too, when eve, lemure and still, The blue wing streak'd with beamy gold ;

Chequers the green dale's purling rill, Its pinions op’ning to the light !-

Sweet Fancy pours the plaintive strain; Say, bursis the vision on my sight?

Or, wrapt in soothing dream, A, no! by Shakspeare's pencil drawn,

By Avon's ruffled stream,

(the plain. The beauteous shapes appear ;

Hears the low-murmuring gale that dies along Wbile meek-eyed Cynthia near (lawnt: $ 119. Ode to Time; occasioned by seeing the Illumes with streanny ray the silver mantled

Ruins of an old Castle. OGILVIE. III. 1.

I. 1. But hark! the tempest howls afar, [waste! O Thou, who mid the world-involving gloon, Bursts the lond whirlwind o'er the pathless Sitt'st on yon solitary spire ! What cherub blows the trump of war? Or slowly'shak'st the sounding dome, What demon rides the stotny blast?

Or hear'st the wildly-warbling lyre; Red from the lightning's livid blaze,

Say, when thy musing soul The bleak heath rushes ou the sight;

Bids distant timës unrol, Then, wrapt in sudden night

And marks the flight of each revolving yeas, Dissolves. - But, ah ! what kingly form Of years whose slow-consuming pow's. Roams the lonė desert's desolated maze 1 Has clad with moss yon leaning tow's Unaw'd, nor heeds the sweeping storni ? That saw the race of Glory run, . Ye pale-ey'd lightnings, spare the cheek of age! That mark'd Ambitiou's setting sun, Vainuish! tho'anguishhcavestheburstingyroan, That shook old Empire's tow'ring pride, Deaf as the fint, the marble ear of rage That swept them down the floating tide * Ariel : see the Tempest. + See the Midsummer Night's Dream. Lear. $ The Witches in Macbeth,


« ZurückWeiter »