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Say, when these long-unfolding scenes appear, The vale where musing Quiet treads,
Or streams where Zephyr loves to stray
Beneath the pale cre's twinkling ray;
Some cloud sweeps shadowy o'er the dusky skies, O'erlooks the boundless wild below,
And wraps the Aying scene, that fades, and Once bore the branching wood
swims, and dies, That o'er yon murniuring flood
Slowly moves the solemn train ;
Wailing wild with shrieks of woe All wild he wander'd o'er the lonely dale, [tale. D'er the bones that rest below! And taught the list'ning moon the melancholy While the dull night's startled ear I. 3.
Shrinks aghast with thrilling fear! Ye wilds where heaven-rapt Fancy roves ! Or stand with thin robes wasting soon, Ye sky crown'd hills, and solemn groves ! And eyes that blast the sick'ning moon! Ye low-brow'd vaults, ye gloomy cells ! Yet these, ere Time had rollid their years away, Ye caves where night-bred Silence dwells! Ere Death's fell arm had mark'd its aim, Ghosts that in yoo lonely hall
Rul'd yon proud tow'rs with ample sway, Lightly glance along the wall;
Beheld the trembling swains obey, Or beneath yon ivy'd tow'r,
Aud wrought the glorious deed that swell’d the At the silent midnight hour,
trump of Fame. Stand array'd in spotless white,
III. 1. And stain ihe dusky robe of Night;
But why o'er these indulge the bursting sigh? Or with slow soleinn pauses roamn
Feels not each shrub the teinpest's pow'r? O'er the long-sounding hollow dome!
Rocks not the domne when whirlwinds fly?
Nor shakes the hill when thunders roar?
What fanes, what tow’rs o'erthrown,
Old Ruin shakes the hanging wall ! call th' inspiring glorious hour to view, Yon waste where roaming lions howl, When Caledonia's martial train
Yon aisle where moans the grey-eyed owl, Froin
yon steep rock's high-arching brow Shows the Proyd Persian's great abode Pourd on the heart-struck flying Dane! Where sceptred once, an earthly god! [clime, When War's blood-tinctur'd spear
His pow'r-clad arm control'd cach happier Hung o'er the trembling rear ;
[Aight: Where sports the warbling Muse, and Fancy When light-heelid Terror wing’d their headlong
soars sublime. Yon tow'rs then rung with wild alarms!
III. 2. Yon desert gleam'd with shining arms! Hark! what dire sound rolls murm'ring on the While on the bleak hill's brightning spire Ah! what soul-thirsting scene appears? [gale ? Bold Victory Aam'd, with eyes of fire; I see the column'd arches fail ! Her limbs celestial robes enföld,
And structures hoar, the boast of years! Her wings were ting'd with spangling gold, What mould'ring piles, decay'd, She spoke: her words infus d'resistless might, Gleam through the moon-streak'd shade, And warm'd the bounding heart, and rous'd the Where Rome's proud genius rear'd her awful soul of fight.
Sad monument! - Ambition near [brow!
Rolls on the dust, and pours a teas;
And Conquest weeps o'er Cæsar's tomb;
Slow Patience sits, with eye deprest, The glancing inoinent bursts away!
And Courage beats his sobbing breast ; [Aow, So from some mountain's head,
Ev'n War's red cheek the gushing streams o'erIn mantling gold array'd,
And Fancy's listning ear attends the plainto: While bright-eyed Fancy stands iu sweet surprise:
Woe. • Persepolis.
K k 4
Rapt Contemplation stalks along,
And hears the slow clock's pealing tongue; Lo, on yon pyramid sublime,
Or, 'mid the dun discolor'd gloom, Whence lies Old Egypt's desert clime,
Sits on the hero's peaceful tomb, Bleak, naked, wild! where ruin low'rs, Throws life's gay glitt'ring robe aside, 'Mid fanes, and wrecks, and tumbling tow'rs, And tramples on the neck of Pride. On the steep height, waste and bare,
Oft, shelter'd by the ranıbling sprays, Stands the Pow'r with hoary hair!
Lead o'er the forest's winding maze; O'er his scythe he bends; his hand
Where, thro' the mantling boughs, afar Slowly shakes the flowing sand,
Gliminers the silver-streaming star;, While the hours, and airy ring
And, shower'd from ev'ry sustling blade, Lightly fit, with downy wing,
The loose light floats along the shade:
Gay Pleasure sports with brow serene:
Shoots, futters, gleams, and Heets away: He sees proud grandeur's meteor ray ;
Unsettled, dubious, restless, blind, He yields to joy the festive day;
Floals all the busy bustling mind; Then sweeps the length’ning shade, and marks While Mem'ry's unstain'd leaves retain them for the tomb.
No trace from all th' ideal train.
But see, the landscape op'ning fair
Invites to breathe the purer air !
Oh when the cowslip-scented gale
Shakes the light dew-drop o'er the dale, Meek Pow'r, whose balmy-pinion'd gale When on her amber-dropping bed Steels o'er the flow'r-enamellid dale !
Loose Ease reclines her downy head; Whose voice in gentle whispers near
How blest! by fairy-haunted stream Oft sighs to Quiet's list'ning car ;
To melt in mild ecstatic dreain ! As, on her downy couch, at rest,
Die 10 the pictur'd wish, or hear By Thought's inspiring visions blest
(Breath'd soft on Fancy's trembling car) She sits, with white-robid Silence nigh, Such lays by angel-harps refind, And musing heaves her serious eye,
As half unchain'd the Autt'ring mind, To mark the slow sun’s glimm’ring ray, When on life's edge it eyes the shore, To catch the last pale gleam of day;
And all its pinions stretch to soar. Or, sunk in sweet repose, unknown
Lo, where the sun's broad orb withdrawn Lies on the wild hill's van alone :
Skirts with pale gold the dusky lawn; And sees thy gradual pencil fow
While, led by ev'ry gentler pow's, Along the heaven-illumin'd bow.
Sieals the slow, solemn, musing hour. Come, Nymph demure, with mantle blue, Now from the green hill's purple brow Thy traces bath'd in balmy dew,
Let me mark the scene below; With
sniooth sliding o'er the green, Where, feebly glancing thro' the gloom, The graces breathing in thy mien;
Yon myrıle shades the silent tomb: And thy, vesture's gather'd fold
Not far, beneath the evening beam Girt with a zone of circling gold;
The dark lake rolls his azure stream, And bring the harp, whose solemn string Whose breast the swan's white plumes diside, Dies to the wild wind's murm'ring wing; Slow-sailing o'er the floating tide. And the Nymph, whose eye serene
Groves, meads, and spires, and forests bare,
When, rapt to ecstasy, his eye
Gay forms that swiin in floods of light! Oh bid with trembling light to glow The sun-pav'd floor, the bulny clime, The raven-plume that crowns his brow.' The ruby-beaming dome sublime;
Lo, where thy meek-ey'd train attend ! The tow'rs in glitt'ring pomp display'd Queen of the solemn thought, descend ! The bright scene hovers o'er his bed : Oh hide me in romantic bow'rs!
but from his eager gaze Or lead my step to ruin'd tow'rs!
Black clouds obscure the lessening rays; Where gleaining through the chinky door On mem'ry still the scene is wroughi, The pale ray gilds the moulder'd floor; And lives in Fancy's featur'd thought. While beneath the hallow'd pile,
On the airy mnount reclin'd Deep in the desert shrieking aisle,
What wishes sooth the musing mind!
How soft the velvet lap of Spring
“ Hail, Innocence! celestial Maid ! How sweet the Zephyr's violet wing!
“ What joys thy blushing charms reveal ! Goddess of the plaintive song,
“ Sweet as the arbor's cooling shade, That leads the melting heari along!
“ And inilder than the vernal gale. Oh bid the voice of genial pow'r
“ On Thee attends a radiant choir, Reach Contemplation's lonely bow'r; “ Soft smiling Peace, and downy Rest; And call the sage with tranced sight
“ With Love, that prompts the warbling lyre; To climb the mountain's steepy height; To wing the kindling wish, or spread
" And Hope, that sooths the throbbing breast. O'er Thought's pale cheek enliv'ning red ;
“ Oh sent from heaven to haunt the grove, Come, hoary Pow's, with serious eye,
“ Where squinting Envy. ne'er can come ! Whose thought explores you distant sky;
“ Nor pines the cheek with luckless love, Now, when the busy world is still,
“ Nor anguish chills the living bloom. Nor passion tempts the wav'ring will, “ But spotless Beauty rob'd in white, When sweeter hopes each pow'r control, “ Sits on yon moss-grown hill reclin'd: And quiet whispers to the soul,
“ Serene ás heaven's unsullied light, Now sweep from life, th' illusive train “ And pure as Delia's genıle mind. That dance in Folly's dizzy brain :
“ Grant, heavenly Pow'r! thy peaceful sway Be Reason's simple draught portray'd, Where blends aliernate light and shade ;
May still my ruder thoughts control ;
Thị hand to point my dubious way,
Thy voice to sooth the melting soul.
«. Far in the shady, sweet retreat, And Phrensy watch the fading moon;
“ Let Thought beguile the ling'ring hout; Paint Superstition's starting eye,
“ Let Quiet court ihe inošsy seat, And Wit that leers with gesture sly;
“ And iwining olives from ihe bow'r :Let Censure whet her venoni'd dart,
“ Let dove-eyed Peace her wreath bestow, And green-eyed Envy gnaw the heart; “ And oft sit list'ning in the dale, Let Pleasure lie on flow'rs reclin'd,
“ While Night's sweet warbler from the bough While anguish aims her shaft behind.
“ Tells to the grove her plaintive tale. Hail, Sire sublime! whose hallow'd cave Howls to the hoarse deep's dashing wave ;
“ Soft, as in Delia's snowy. breast, Thee Solitude to Phæbus bore,
“ Let each consenting passion move;
" Let Angels watch its silent rest, Far on the lone, deserted shore,
“ And all its blissful dreams be Love !"
$ 122. Morning; or, The Complaint. An
American Eclogue. GREGORY. Hence oft, in silent vales unseen, Thy footsteps print the fairy green ;
Far from the savage bandit's fierce alarms, Or thy soul melts to strains of woe,
Or distant din of horrid despot's arins, That from the willow's quiv'ring bough Tho' Pennsylvania boasts her peaceful plain, Sweet warbling breathe - the zephyrs round Yet there in blood her petty tyrants reign. O'er Dee's smooth current waft the sound,
Withwaving pines tho'vocal woods becrown When soft on bending osiers laid
And stream-fed vales with livingwealthabound, The broad sun trembling through the bed ;
To golden fields tho' ripening rays descend, All wild thy heav'n-rapt fancy strays, Led thro' the soul-dissolving maze;
With blushing fruit tho' loaded branches bend Till slumber downy-pinion d, near
To thosewho ne'er mustfreedotu's blessingstaste,
'Tis barren all, 'tis all a worthless waste. Plants her strong fe:locks on thy ear; The soul unfetter'd bursts away,
Whilehoarse the cataract murmur'don the gale And basks enlarg'd in beamy day.
And chilling dews swept thro' the murky dale;
And lightnings fash'd, and deep the thunder $ 121. Ode to Innocence. OGILVIE.
Beneath a leafless tree, ere morn arose, 'Twas when the slow-declining ray
The slave Adala thus laments his woes .
Ye grisly spectres, gather round my seat,
From caves unblest that wretch's groans reNo sound disturbid the sleeping fold: When by a murm’ring rill reclin'd,
Terrific fornis, from misty lakes arise ! Sat, wrapt in thought, a wand'ring swain; And bloody meteots threaten thro' the skies ! Calm peace compos'd his musing inind; Oh curs'd destroyers of our hapless face, And thus he rais'd the flowing strain : Of human kind the terror and disgrace!
*Lo! hosts of düsky captives, to iny view, From whose stern brows no grateful look e'er Demand a deep revenge! demand their due!
[shames, And frowning chiefs now dari athwart the Whose blust:less front nor rape nor murder gloom
Nor all I blame ; for Nastal, friend to peace, And o'er the salt sea wave prononce your doom. Thro' his wide pastures bids oppression cease"; But Gods are just, and oft the stroke forbear,
No drivers goad, no galling feiters bind, To plunge the guilty in tenfold despair.
No stern compulsion damps th' exalted mind. Lift high the scourge, my soul the rack disdains; There strong Arcona's fated to enjoy I pant for freedom and my native plains !
Domestic swets, and rear his progeny ;
To till his glebe enrploys Arcona's care, With limbs benumb'd my poor companions To Nastal's God he nightly makes his pray's;
His mind at ease, of Christian truths he'll boast Oppress'd by pain and want the aged sigh ;
He has no wife, no lovely of spring lost. Thro' reedy huts the driving tempest pours, Gay his savannah blooms, while inine appears Their festering wounds receive thesickly show'rs; Scorch'd up with heat, or inoist with blood and In inadd’ning draughts our lords their senses
Cheerful his hearth in chilling winter buras, And doom their slaves to stripes and death in While to the storm the sad Adala inourtis.
sleep; Now, while the bitter blasts surround ny head,
Lift high the scourge, my soul the rack disdains; To times long past my restless soul is led,
I pant for freedom and my native plains ! Far, far beyond the azure hills, to groves
Shall I his holy Prophet's aid implore, Of rudely fruit, where beauty fearless roves
And wait for justice on another shore ? o blissful seats ! O self-approving joys!
Or, rushing down yon mountain's craggy steep,
End all my sorrows in the sullen deep Nature's plain dictates! ignorance of vice ! Oguiltless hours! Ourcares and wants were few, Thedashing wave beneath roars harsh and load,
A cliff there hangs in yon grey morning cloud, No arts of luxury or deceit we knew.
But doubts and fears involve my anxious mind, Our labor, sport - to tend our cottage care, Or froin the palm the luscious jụice prepare ;
The gulphofdeathonce pass'd, what shore wefind:
Dubious, if sent beyond th' expanded inain, To sit indulging love's delusive dream,
This soul shall seek its native realms again : And snare the silver tenants of the stream ;
Or if in gloomy niists condemn'd to lie,
Beyond the limits of yon arching sky.
vale of peace appears,
A better prospect oft my spirit cheers,
And fleeting visions of my foriner life:
My hoary sire I clasp, my long-lost wife, Hurl'd the grim panther in the foaming tide.
And oft I kiss my gentle babes in sleep, [weep. Our healthful sports a daily feast afford,
Till, with the sounding whip, I'm wakid is And ev'n still found is at the social board.
Lift high the scourge, my soul the rack disdains; Can I forget, ah me! the fatal day,
I pant for free dom and my native plains ! When half the vale of peace was swept away! Chiefs of the earth, and monarchs of the sea, TH' affrighted maids in vain the gods implore, Who vaunt your hardy ancestors were free; And weeping view from far the happy shore ; Whuse teachers plead ih' oppressed and injur'd's The frantic dames impatient ruffians seise,
causc, And infants shriek,and clasp their mothers knees; And prove the wisdom of your Prophet's laws; With galling fetters soon their limbs are bound, To force and fraud if justice must give place, Andgroansthroughoutthe noisome bark resound. You're dragz'd to slavery by some rougher race. Why was I bound! why did not Whydah see Sonie rougher race your flocks shall force away, Adlala gain or death or victory !
Like Afric's sons your children must obey; No storins arise, no pares revengeful roar,
Gods that view their constant toil,
Tyrants unblest! Each proud of strict cominand, Alas! 'tis morn, and here I sit alone
Lift high the scourge, my soul the rack disdains; How would ye bear in real pain to lie, 1 pant for freedom and my native plains. Despis'd, neglected, left alone to die? ThouGod, whogild’stwithlighttheirrising day? How would ye bear to draw your latest breath, Who life dispensezt by the genial ray!
Whereall that's wretched paves the way for death! Will thy slow vengeance never, never fall,
Such is that room which one rude beam divides, But undistinguish'd favor shine on all ? And naked rafters form the sloping sides ; O hear a suppliant wretch's last, sad pray'r!
Where the vile bands that bindthe thatch areseen, Dart fiercest rage! infect the ambient air !
And lath and mud are all that lie between ; This pallid race, whose hearts are bound in steel, Saveonedullpane,that,coarsely patch'd givesway By dint of suffering teach them how to feel.
To the rude tempest, yet excludes the day: Or to some despot's lawless will betray'd Here, on a matted flock, with dust o'erspread, Give them to know what wretches they have The drooping wreich reclines his languid head; made!
For him no hand i he cordial cup applies, Beneath the lash let them resign their breath, Nor wipes the tear that stagnates in his eyes; Qr court, in chains, the clay-cold hand of death, No friends with soft discourse his pain beguile, Or, worst of ills ! .within each callous breast Nor promise hope till sickness wears a smile. Cherish uncurb'd the dark internal pest; Bid av'rice swell with undiminish'd rage,
Ş: 124. Description of a Country Apothecary.
CRABBE While no new worlds th' accursed thirst assuage; But soon a loud and hasty summons calls, Then bid the monsters on each other turn,
Shakes the thin rouf, and echoes round the The fury passions in disorder burn; Bid Discord flourish, civil crimes increase,
Anon a figure enters, quaintly neat, (walls : Nor one fond wish arise that pleads for peace
All pride and bus'ness, bustle and conceit; Till, with their crimes in wild confusion hurld. With speed that, entering, speaks his haste to go;
With looks unalter'd by these scenes of woe, They wake t'eternal anguish in a future world*. He bids the gazing throng around him.fly, $183. A Description of a Parish Poor House. And carries iate and physic in his eye;
CRABBE. A patent quack, long vers'd in hunian ills, There is yon house that holds the parish poor, whose murd'rous hand a drowsy bench protect,
Who first insults the victim whom he kills; Whose walls of nud scarce bear ihe broken
And whose most tender mercy, is neglect. door; There, where the putrid vapors farging play,
Paid by the parish for attendance here, And the dull wheel hums doleful thro the day : In haste he seeks ihe bed where misery lies,
He wears contempt upon his sapient sncer ; Therсchildren dwell, who knowno parents' care; Parents, who know no children's love, dweli Impatience mark'd in his averted eyes there :
And, some habitnal queries hurried o'er, Ileart-broken matrons on their joyless bed,
Without reply, he rushes on the door; Forsaken wixes, and mothers never wed;
His drooping patient, long inur'd to pain, Dejected widows, with unlieeded tears, (fears! He ceases now the feeble help to crave
And long unheeded, knows remonstrance sain; And crippled age, with more than childhood Of man, and inurely hastens to the grave. The lame, the blind, and, far the happiest they! The moping idiot, and the madwan gay. § 125. Description of a Country Clergyman Here ioo the sick their final doom receive,
visiting the Sick. CRABBE. Here brought, anid the scenes of grief, to grieve: But, ere his death, some pious doubts arise, Where the loud groans from some sad chainber Some simple fears which' “ bold bad" inen flow,
despise ; Mixd with the clamors of the crowd below : Fain would he ask the parish priest to prove Here, sorrowing, they each kindred sorrow scan, His title certain to the joys above; And the cold charities of inan to man : For this he sends the murinuring nurse, who calls Whose laws indeed for ruin'al age provide, The holy stranger to these dismal walls : And strong compulsion plucks the scrap from And doth not he, the pious man, appear, pride;
He, “ passing rich wiih forty pounds a-year ? But still that scrap is bought with many a sigh, Ah no! a shepherd of a different stock, And pride embitters what it can't deny. And far unlike hiin, feeds this little flock;
Say ye, oppress’d by some fantastic woes, A jovial youth, who thinks his Sunday's task Some farring nerve that haffles your repose;
As much as God or man can fairly ask; Who pressthe downy couch, while slaves advance The rest he gives to loves, and labors light, With timid eye, to read the distant glance; To fields the morning, and to feasts the night; Whio with sad prayers the weary doctor tease None better skill'd the noisy pack to guide, To name the nameless ever-new disease ; To
urge their chace, to cheer ihem, or to chide; Whowith mock-patience direcomplaints endure, Sure in his shot, his gone he seldom miss'd, Which real pain, and that alone, can secure;
And seldon fail'd to win his game at whist; • This Eclogue was written during the American war.