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 POEM S, 
 
 SUGGESTED CHIEFLY BY 
 
 SCENES IN ASIA-MINOR, SYRIA, AND GREECE, 
 
 WITH 
 
 PREFACES, 
 
 EXTRACTED FROM THE AUTHOR'S JOURNAL. 
 
 EMBELLISHED WITH 
 
 TWO VIEWS 
 
 OF 
 
 THE SOURCE OF THE SCAMANDER, AND THE AQUEDUCT 
 OVER THE SIMOIS. 
 
 BY THE LATE J. D. CARLYLE, 
 
 B. D. F. R. S. E. 
 
 CHANCELLOR OP CARLISLE, VICAR OF NEWCASTLE-UPON-TYNE, PROFESSOR OF ARABIC 
 
 IN THE UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE, AND CHAPLAIN TO THE 
 
 LORD BISHOP OF DURHAM. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED BY WILLIAM BULMER AND CO. 
 
 &bafepeare printing Office ; 
 
 FOR JOHN WHITE, HORACE'S HEAD, FLEET-STREET. 
 
 1805.
 
 PR 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 BY THE EDITOR. 
 
 THE following POEMS were, by their 
 AUTHOR, deemed not unworthy of the public 
 notice ; and in obedience to his express direc- 
 tion they now appear. The Editor however 
 feels the propriety of soliciting for a posthu- 
 mous work a degree of indulgence, which, 
 had the Author's life been longer spared, 
 might not have been necessary. 
 
 MR. CARLYLE, almost immediately after his 
 return to England in 1801, experienced the 
 
 a 
 
 .943676
 
 11 
 
 first symptoms of that disease, which, baf- 
 fling all the powers of medicine, terminated 
 in his death. 
 
 The langour and depression, induced by 
 ill health, interrupted his various literary 
 employments, and finally prevented the re- 
 vision and correction of these Poems. If, 
 therefore, they should be found inferior to 
 his former productions, it is hoped the cause 
 assigned will be considered as a natural, 
 and at the same time not unsatisfactory, 
 explanation. 
 
 Some general account of the Poems them- 
 selves may, perhaps, be expected. A few 
 words will suffice. 
 
 When the Earl of ELGIN was sent 
 Ambassador to the Porte in 1799, it was 
 thought desirable that his Lordship should
 
 Ill 
 
 be accompanied by some person of eminent, 
 learning, who might improve the facilities, 
 then offered by the friendly disposition of 
 that Court, of ascertaining what treasures of 
 literature were to be found in the public 
 libraries of Constantinople. 
 
 For this service MR. CARLYLE was parti- 
 cularly well qualified ; and the unsolicited 
 selection of him on the occasion was in the 
 highest degree honourable to his talents and 
 character. His researches were not confined 
 to Constantinople ; he visited also Asia-Minor, 
 and the islands and shores of the Archipelago; 
 and the scenes, which there engaged his at- 
 tention, suggested the subjects of the principal 
 Poems contained in this volume. 
 
 On the merits of the work itself, it would, 
 perhaps, be presumptuous for the Editor to
 
 IV 
 
 offer any opinion ; more particularly as she 
 is conscious of the partiality, with which she 
 must naturally regard every production of 
 her deceased brother. 
 
 With these observations, and relying on 
 the candour which she is persuaded will not 
 be denied to Poems, so circumstanced, she 
 submits them, imperfect as they are, to the 
 judgment of the public. 
 
 SUSANNA MARIA CARLYLE. 
 Carlisle, Dec. 13, 1804.
 
 ACCOUNT OF THE ENGRAVINGS. 
 
 THE Engraving of the AQUEDUCT on the SIMOIS was not originally 
 designed for this work. It was finished under the Author's own direc- 
 tion from a sketch taken by himself on the spot, and intended to have 
 been inserted in an Account of a TOUR through the TROAD, which 
 was almost completed ; but as that work is not to appear, the Editor 
 thought, though the Engraving did not refer directly to any of the 
 scenes described in the Poems, it was no improper FRONTISPIECE 
 to the whole, especially as she believes that no Engraving of that 
 Aqueduct has ever before been published. She has subjoined the fol- 
 lowing account of it, extracted from the Journals of the Author. 
 
 March 6th, 1801. As the wind continued contrary, and the ship 
 had no chance of proceeding this day, we determined to go by land to 
 the Dardanelles. Horses were procured with great difficulty, and at 
 length, about twelve o'clock we set off. Just as we left the town we 
 were struck by the remains of two arches a part of an Aqueduct, 
 which had run across the valley, and once served the city of Parium 
 with water it still serves to give the denomination to the modern 
 village of Camaris. The river that flows by Camaris is now called 
 the river of Satul Tepd, a chain of mountains which were in sight; and, 
 as we were told, at the distance of about five hours. After passing the
 
 VI 
 
 river near the Aqueduct, we turned to the right, and began to wind 
 along the different swells that terminate the coast the ride was delight- 
 ful the day extremely fine, and the scenery varying every moment : 
 sometimes we were on the outside of the knoll, and had a prospect of 
 little else than the sea in a few minutes we found ourselves on the 
 other side of the next hill, totally shut out from the ocean : nothing 
 could be more interesting than its opening and losing itself, as we 
 changed our positions. The knolls along which we passed were, for 
 the most part, covered with brush-wood, which impeded our progress 
 not a little ; many of the roads we went over were formed in the 
 rock, and worn two feet deep ; and, no doubt, were the same that had 
 always conducted the inhabitants from Lampsacus to Parium, for in 
 many places the hills were only practicable in those paths : two feet 
 is certainly a great depth to be worn away merely by the passing of 
 travellers ; but is not this alone some evidence that the habitation of 
 the world cannot have been eternal ? cannot have been of longer 
 duration than the Mosaic accounts would teach us to reckon ? 1 hese 
 regions on the banks of the JEgean, in the most desirable climate, and 
 possessing the most fertile soil, must have been amongst the most 
 early peopled ; we know that once they were filled with cities, and 
 yet after all the roads are only hollowed out for so small a depth. 
 
 At a quarter past three we passed the sweet little plain of Courou 
 dere : this smiling meadow is however too often, as we were informed 
 by our guide, the scene of robbery and murder : the banditti lurk in the 
 adjoining thickets, and shoot the passengers before they are aware of 
 their danger : we passed the grave of one of these unfortunate travellers 
 in the dell, and heard the tale of his death from our guide before we 
 came to the place. He was sitting on a stone by the road side, where 
 he was accosted by a Turk, who wished to look at his fusee the 
 traveller unsuspicious of any danger complied with his request upon 
 which the other shot him through the body, and robbed him of his
 
 Vll 
 
 effects, about 100 piasters. 
 
 March 10th. Left these interesting remains (which all the inhabitants 
 assured us had never before been examined by any Franks) and pro- 
 ceeded to the Aqueduct that gives its name to the Cheuiar our course 
 lay nearly E by S, through woody hills and opening vallies. 1 1, 38', 
 we arrived at the banks of the Cheraar, along whose sweet vales we 
 wound till 12, 12', when the magnificent ruin of the Aqueduct appeared 
 in view it stretches itself over a romantic rocky dell, (not unlike that 
 at Nunnery*) a little stream gushing from beneath loses itself amidst 
 the crags. Only so much remains of the Aqueduct as is necessary 
 to render it a picturesque object ; for one part is entirely broken away, 
 and the other appears clinging to the adjoining cliff for support; the 
 chasm seemed above 40 feet in breadth, and the rocks beside it about 
 200 feet high. After gratifying our curiosity with this sight, we re- 
 turned to take a view of the remainder of the ruins of Eski Aktche 
 
 kui. 
 
 Journal of a Route through the Troad 1801. 
 
 The PLATE of the SOURCE of the SCAMANDER was taken from a 
 Drawing sent to the Author by the Earl of ELGIN, and is a copy of 
 one, done on the spot, by an artist who accompanied Dr. CLARKE 
 and Mr. CRIPPS, the former of whom has had the goodness to com- 
 pare it with the original drawing in his possession. 
 
 * The seat of Mrs. Bamber, Cumberland.
 
 HER MAJESTY. 
 
 HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCESS AUGUSTA. 
 
 HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCESS ELIZABETH. 
 
 HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCESS MARY. 
 
 HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCESS SOPHIA. 
 
 HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCESS AMELIA. 
 
 HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE OF WALES. 
 
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 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 ON passing an Evening with a Caravan of Arabs and Caraminians 1 
 
 On viewing the Vale and City of Nicaea, at Sunrise - 13 
 
 Written on hearing a Cuckoo in the Valley of St. Saba - 21 
 
 On visiting the Source of the Scamander, after having ascended Ida 27 
 
 On leaving Athos 45 
 
 On viewing Athens from the Pnyx, by the light of a waning Moon 55 
 On being disappointed in a Prospect of Parnassus, from the Heights 
 
 between Eleusis and Megara - 62 
 
 Written on the Banks of the Bosphorus 7 1 
 
 TRANSLATIONS FROM THE ARABIC. 
 
 The Miracles of Beauty - 97 
 
 On an ignorant Physician, at the Time of a Pestilence - 98 
 
 The Circling Flaggon - - 99 
 
 Upon Visiting a Friend 100 
 
 To Love - 102 
 
 On Dancing - 103 
 
 Songs in the Tale of Zoheir and Amkettoom. 
 
 1. To his Mistress - 104 
 
 2. To the Sultan 105 
 On the Festival of Alnahat - 106 
 On the Death of a Friend - 109 
 The Child of Sorrow - 1 10 
 
 C
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 ORIGINAL POEMS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Salted Cherry, a Tale - 117 
 
 Hopus, Tropus, and Mopus, a Tale 125 
 
 The Redbreast - 135 
 
 The Withered Violet - 138 
 
 A Hymn before public Worship - - - 141 
 
 A Paraphrase on the Lord's Prayer 143 
 
 Epitaph - 145
 
 POEMS.
 
 ON PASSING AN EVENING 
 
 WITH A CARAVAN OF 
 
 ARABS AND CARAMINIANS, 
 
 IN A CEMETERY, NEAR AKSHEHER. 
 
 " AT three o'clock we arrived at Aksheher, 
 the station at which we meant to pass the 
 night ; the Tartar had been sent on before, 
 and we expected to meet with a proper place 
 for our accommodation ; but when we came 
 to the town, the Conah provided was so bad, 
 the General * determined to go to the Aga 
 
 * General Koeler. 
 B
 
 to speak to him upon the subject, and re- 
 quested us to accompany him : we mounted 
 our horses accordingly, and were beginning 
 to set out, but the Janisary, the Tartar, and 
 the Interpreter, were so strenuous in beg- 
 ging us to desist, that at length the General 
 complied : indeed, from the representation, 
 little good was to be expected from such a 
 visit. The Janisary told us, that the Aga 
 was a rough, violent man, whom it was dan- 
 gerous to contradict ; the Tartar gave us 
 small hopes of much good from any further 
 applications from what he had seen at his 
 former one ; when the Aga, upon being 
 pressed for horses, &c. (which unfortunately 
 the firman was not explicit enough to enable 
 us to demand), threw the firman upon the 
 ground, and declared in a passion, we might 
 complain to whom we would, for that he
 
 3 
 
 had given us all we had any right to ask. 
 The General upon that, gave up the idea of 
 having recourse to such a personage, and de- 
 termined to leave the place that evening, and 
 proceed to another station. He would not 
 even dine in the town, but ordered dinner 
 to be brought to a burial-ground at a small 
 distance from the other side of the town ; we 
 waited for our dinner for some time, which 
 at length arrived, and we eat it amongst 
 the tombs. After we had finished, we found 
 that both the Tartar and Janisary had de- 
 clared, that neither of them would move till 
 they had got their dinner for any power 
 upon earth. The time was Ramadhan : as 
 they had been fasting from sun-rise we 
 were obliged to submit. We endeavoured 
 to amuse ourselves by looking about the 
 burial-ground : in it we saw many Turkish
 
 head-stones, which had once been Grecian 
 columns ; and in the middle, the tomb (or 
 octagonal building) of a kind of Saint, of 
 the name of Nasneddin, who requested in 
 his will that a lock and key might be fixed 
 to the door of the tomb,* but forgot to add, 
 that the key should be turned : the conse- 
 quence is, that the key hangs at the lock, 
 the door stands open, and the Saint is laughed 
 at. Besides ourselves, there was in the 
 burial-ground a caravan from Caramania ; 
 while we were waiting for our horses, we 
 went to pay a visit to our neighbours, whom 
 we had seen leading their camels to water, 
 and exercising them afterwards ; they re- 
 ceived us with great kindness, and invited 
 us to sit down amongst them; we accepted 
 their invitation : their tent was composed 
 * Vide Capper's Travels.
 
 of camel's hair, it was open on one side, 
 and was about six feet in width ; the fire 
 was made just at the edge, so that there was 
 room to sit pretty comfortably behind it : 
 this was the seat of honour, where we were 
 placed, together with the father of the 
 family ; the young men sat on the other 
 side in the open air; close to them were 
 the camels, arranged in circles of six or seven, 
 and in the middle of them was thrown a 
 little chopped straw, the only luxury of 
 these patient and useful animals : they eat 
 their scanty meal with the greatest gentle- 
 ness: a few were standing, some of the 
 young ones were reclined on one side, but 
 most of them lay on their bellies, with thetr 
 feet bent under them. Our friends were 
 cooking their dinner as we went up to them, 
 which, as it was Ramadhan, they were not
 
 6 
 
 permitted to taste till after sun-set. Their 
 meat consisted of pilaw, (viz.) rice boiled 
 with some melted grease poured into it, 
 the whole was then stirred up together, and 
 immediately poured upon yiiftah, cakes 
 which serve at once for dishes, plates, table- 
 cloth, and bread; when they had finished 
 their repast, they retired and began to make 
 their coffee, which was beaten in a wooden 
 mortar: we were invited to partake, and I 
 confess I never tasted such excellent coffee 
 in my life." 
 
 Journal of a Route through Asia- Minor 1800. 
 
 OR is it truth, or is't a dream, 
 
 That wafts these visions to the view ? 
 
 Or conquering fancy bids me deem 
 Her airy scenes at length are true ?
 
 Tis truth but sure ne'er fancy trac'd 
 A wilder tale than truth presents, 
 
 That I should tread this Phrygian waste. 
 Or rest among these Arab tents. 
 
 Let me the pencil seize, and try 
 
 A sketch of what's around to draw ; 
 
 The hour may come, when memory's eye 
 Shall dimly mark what once it saw. 
 
 The lamp of night, that pathless strays, 
 And seems from yon tall cliffs to lean, 
 
 Has shed her brightest, fullest rays, 
 To ope to light the varied scene. 
 
 How vast the lengthening plains expand 
 Along the bluff rock frowning o'er ! 
 
 Without a wave, a sea of land 
 
 That boundless widens from its shore.
 
 8 
 
 No cheerful fields, no rising cot, 
 No marks of life the descript fill ; 
 
 Save that in yon secluded spot 
 
 Some tott'ring hovels linger still. 
 
 A ruin'd tower amidst the grove 
 
 Forms for concealing wolves a den, 
 
 Sack'd by some kindred tribe, to prove 
 
 How mild are wolves, compared with men. 
 
 One waving cypress bends beside, 
 And spreads its deep funereal gloom 
 
 O'er the last seat of baffled pride 
 
 The sinking grave the mould'ring tomb. 
 
 Amongst the stones that fall'n decay, 
 Or yet their turban'd foreheads rear, 
 
 Some sculptured shafts, some tablets say, 
 A different race once flourish'd here.
 
 9 
 
 Now sleeping in the same retreat, 
 
 Greeks, Phrygians, Turks together lie ; 
 
 And, stranger still, here mingling meet 
 A wandering Arab tribe, and I. 
 
 Oh ! let me haste to join the band, 
 And each unfolding scene survey, 
 
 That long I've lov'd that oft I've scann'd, 
 Depicted in the poet's lay. 
 
 I recognise each feature there, 
 
 In groups the camels cluster round ; 
 And as the slender meal they share, 
 Their tinkling bells responsive sound. 
 
 The blazing pine that near them glows, 
 Red mixing with the moon's pale beam, 
 
 Along the cemetery throws 
 
 Its quivering light its dubious gleam. 
 
 c
 
 10 
 
 The scanty tent, that close behind 
 
 Half shuns the fire, and half bends o'er- 
 
 Yet scant, and fluttering with the wind, 
 Enough for those who want no more. 
 
 The swarm within, that glad prepares 
 The welcome eve's allow'd repast, 
 
 Hailing the planet, which declares 
 The period of the day's long fast. 
 
 The beckoning Chief points out a seat, 
 And bids me share the friendly board ; 
 
 Oh sweeter far the humble treat, 
 
 Than pomp can deck, or pride afford ! 
 
 Plain is the dish, and coarse the fare 
 Yet plain and free the circling youth, 
 
 And hospitality is there, 
 
 Nature, simplicity, and truth.
 
 11 
 
 No thoughts but what the tongue dare speak 
 Within the artless bosom dwell ; 
 
 Or were it mute, the mantling cheek, 
 And sparkling eye, the tale would tell : 
 
 Each rising image stands confest 
 
 At once display'd at once descried 
 
 As ocean's smooth expanded breast 
 Shews every rock that crowns his side. 
 
 Nature, these genuine charms are thine ! 
 How different are the scenes of art ? 
 
 Where all is fair, and all is fine, 
 And all is finish'd but the heart. 
 
 There's the soft speech the polish'd style 
 
 The complimentary reply 
 The practis'd look the ready smile, 
 
 That hides a truth, or hints a lie.
 
 But hark yon shout ! yon cry of rage 
 The sabre starting from its sheath 
 
 See the mad youths in fight engage, 
 Hear, hear the dreadful shriek of death ! 
 
 Nature, these charms are thine ! 
 
 The ocean's breast that mocks controul 
 Where passion, rage, revenge, combine 
 
 To wake the tempest of the soul. 
 
 These charms are thine! and should I e'er 
 With rapture swell thy praise again, 
 
 Memory shall raise that shriek I hear, 
 To dissipate the idle strain.
 
 13 
 
 ON VIEWING THE 
 
 VALE AND CITY OF NICLEA, 
 
 AT SUNRISE. 
 
 " JUST as the sun appeared, we emerged 
 from the dell, in which we had been for 
 some time travelling; when as sweet a scene 
 opened upon us as can be conceived. In 
 front was the lake of Nicaea, bending through 
 its green valley. Immediately between us 
 and the lake, rose up a woody hill, which, 
 by intercepting the centre of the prospect, 
 seemed to divide the expanse of water before 
 us into two separate reaches. Along the
 
 14 
 
 opposite side of the lake ran a range of dark 
 mountains, scarce yet, except on their most 
 prominent parts, illuminated by the sun ;- 
 the snowy summits of Olympus, empurpled 
 by the reflection of the morning clouds, termi- 
 nated the view. To the left, the minarets of 
 Nicaea were seen peeping out of the water at 
 the extremity of the lake. To the right, the 
 lake stretched itself till it was lost amongst 
 the windings of the mountains. 
 
 It is not possible to form an idea of a 
 more complete scene of desolation than Nicaea 
 now exhibits ; streets without a passenger, 
 houses without an inhabitant, and ruins of 
 every age, fill the precincts of this once cele- 
 brated city. The deserted mosque, whose 
 minaret we ascended in order to obtain a 
 general notion of the plan of the place, bore 
 evident marks of having been erected from
 
 15 
 
 the remains of a Christian church, and many 
 of these remains, upon a closer inspection, 
 shewed clearly that they had formerly be- 
 longed to a Pagan temple : our Moham- 
 medan mosque was falling to decay, and like 
 its predecessors in splendour, must soon be- 
 come a heap of rubbish what a generation 
 of ruin was here ! 
 
 The walls of the city are still pretty entire 
 they embrace a circuit of nearly three miles; 
 but the spot enclosed by them is mostly taken 
 up with gardens and mulberry grounds ; 
 there are not more than four hundred houses 
 standing within the whole circumference, 
 and out of these only one hundred and fifty- 
 seven are tenanted. 
 
 The Greeks possess but one place of worship 
 in the city the cathedral and this is with- 
 out a roof. The Archbishop resides at an
 
 16 
 
 adjoining village. Such is the state of the 
 cathedral of Nicaea so often thronged with 
 princes and prelates so often echoing with 
 controversy and contention ; it is now re- 
 duced to a mossy, untrod pavement, sur- 
 rounded by four bare walls!" 
 
 Journal of a Route through Asia- Minor, February 1800. 
 
 hail! renown'd for fierce debate, 
 For synods bustling o'er yon silent spot, 
 For zealous ardour for polemic hate 
 For truth preserved, and charity forgot. 
 
 Full oft, th' historic record as I've scann'd, 
 
 Has fancy's touch those solemn scenes pourtray'd, 
 
 Bid thy proud domes display the mitred band, 
 Thy streets unfold the long-drawn cavalcade.
 
 17 
 
 Those scenes are past thy streets no longer shew 
 Their busy throngs yet, is there breast so cold 
 
 As calm can trace, without one trilling glow, 
 
 What thought has pictur'd and what fame has told ? 
 
 Those scenes are fled those domes are swept away 
 Succeeding domes now totter to their fall, 
 
 And mouldering mosques on moulder'd fanes decay 
 While desolation bends to grasp them all 
 
 Those scenes are fled yet, solitary dale, 
 
 The genuine charms of nature still remain 
 
 The rising mountain the retiring vale 
 
 The lake's broad bosom, and the shelter'd plain. 
 
 Delightful vision ! Raptur'd let me gaze 
 
 And catch each charm that dawns upon the sight, 
 
 As, gushing from yon fount, the orient rays 
 Roll off the floating glooms diffus'd by night 
 
 D
 
 Towering Olympus first receives the beams 
 His snows now crimson'd with the crimson glare, 
 
 Now swept by floods of fire, more bright he gleams, 
 Shoots from the sea of shade and swims in air 
 
 The sun bursts forth th' expanding plains grow green- 
 Each jutting eminence, in radiance drest, 
 
 Rushes to day, while the deep glens between 
 Still viewless sleep beneath their cloudy vest 
 
 Now the full beams their broadest blaze unfold; 
 
 No hovering mists the vale's gay tints destroy, 
 The lake's blue surface kindles into gold, 
 
 And nature wakes to light and life arid joy. 
 
 Sweet is the sight those spreading valleys yield, 
 
 But many a softer grace I seek in vain, 
 The peaceful cot the lovely smiling field 
 
 And, ah ! far lovelier still, the smiling swain
 
 19 
 
 Those graces that in rural life combine 
 
 To gild the shade, or deck the mountain's brow 
 
 Those thousand graces that e'erwhile were thine, 
 Those thousand graces that arc Britain's now. 
 
 Rous'd at the magic name, before my eyes 
 
 Each well-known scene, each long-lov'd image plays,. 
 
 And lakes more fair, and vales, how different ! rise, 
 As the blest Isle seems opening on the gaze. 
 
 I view the cot, with every comfort stor'd 
 The scatter'd hamlet the sequester'd bower 
 
 That fear no ruffian's brand, no tyrant's sword, 
 Nor ask defence but from the wintiy shower : 
 
 That shower may beat the storm, in all its ire, 
 May rage without the cheerful group within 
 
 But crowd the closer round their social fire, 
 But laugh the louder for the tempest's din.
 
 Neglected Vale! If Britain's joys to share, 
 If Britain's plains 'tis given, in truth to see, 
 
 Should e'er my heart forget a blessing there 
 Let me, neglected Vale, then think of thee.
 
 21 
 
 WRITTEN 
 
 ON HEARING A CUCKOO 
 
 IN THE VALLEY OF ST. SABA. 
 
 THE Valley of St. Saba is in fact an immense 
 chasm in a rifted mountain of marble it 
 
 is not only destitute of trees, but of every 
 
 
 
 other species of vegetation, and its sole in- 
 habitants (except the wretched monks in the 
 convent) are eagles, tygers, and wild Arabs. 
 The monastery joins to the rocks on the 
 right, and stretches itself half way across the 
 valley; you enter from the top, and descend 
 by several flights of stairs and iron doors to 
 the platform where the church is situated.
 
 The monks are obliged to fetch all their 
 provisions from Jerusalem, and are subject to 
 the continual depredations of the Bedouins. 
 The banditti, only a fortnight before I was 
 there, had made an attack upon the convent, 
 plundered and set on fire the part of it to 
 which they could force their way, and mur- 
 dered a considerable number of persons 
 belonging to it. It would have been im- 
 possible for me to have accomplished my 
 visit, had not the Governor of Jerusalem fur- 
 nished me with an escort of these very 
 banditti, to protect me from their brethren. - 
 
 April, 1800. 
 
 WHAT sounds are those yon rocks impart? 
 
 What soft strains float yon crags among ? 
 Each chord that winds about my heart 
 
 Vibrates, symphonious to the song.
 
 Hark ! 'tis the Cuckoo's well-known sound 
 Let the sweet magic sooth my ear 
 
 It breathes the charms of home around, 
 And softens every horror here. 
 
 Again I view the grassy vale 
 
 Where oft I've heard that rural strain 
 Again I drink the balmy gale 
 
 That scatters smiles o'er Edens* plain. 
 
 Ah ! scenes belov'd ! depart not yet 
 Dear visions, not so quickly flee ; 
 
 Let me in fancied bliss forget 
 The features of reality. 
 
 Let me forget the chasm I tread, 
 
 Whose yawning jaws such horrors shew 
 The rock's bare cheek the stream's dry bed- 
 
 The seats of want the tracks of woe 
 
 * Eden, one of the rivers that runs past Carlisle.
 
 24 
 
 Those arid clefts, from whence I saw 
 Yon eagles wing their sweeping way 
 
 Those gloomy dens, where tygers gnaw 
 The fleshless bones of last night's prey 
 
 Those caves between, where, fiercer still, 
 The Arab builds his schemes of blood ; 
 
 Marks the fell rout with murderous skill 
 Then pours the desolating flood 
 
 Let me forget those walls that lower, 
 Sad beetling o'er the bladeless land ; 
 
 That iron'd gate that massive tower 
 Still smoaking from the spoiler's hand 
 
 And ah ! forget the cloister'd train 
 Those walls from social joy preclude, 
 
 Where famine strives to drown, in vain, 
 The deeper sighs of solitude.
 
 25 
 
 Oh may devotion's pitying gleam 
 
 Shed thro' their cells a cheering ray 
 
 On all their sorrows comfort beam, 
 And gild with peace their lonely day ! 
 
 Hark ! Twas the convent's bell I caught 
 Hail, welcome sound ! So long unknown 
 
 How many a dear associate thought 
 Is wafted in the solemn tone ? 
 
 Alb ions blest hamlets meet my eye- 
 The white church rises as I gaze 
 
 I view the looks of humble joy, 
 
 I hear the tongues of grateful praise. 
 
 I follow the returning throng, 
 
 Mix in the soft domestic hour, 
 Mark the long laugh, the artless song, 
 
 The calm repast, the peaceful bower. 
 
 E
 
 26 
 
 Sights still more lov'd my eyes beguile 
 I see each face my heart holds dear 
 
 See friendship's warm, unconscious smile, 
 And love's repress'd, but bursting tear. 
 
 To meet the fond embrace I fly 
 
 I rush to seize the outstretch'd hand 
 
 Ah, why will Truth, intruding cry 
 " Thou tread 'st a distant dreary land!" 
 
 Yes, moriitress but while I bear 
 
 Those objects stamp'd upon my breast, 
 
 I'll find a radiant prospect there, 
 Tho' all beside thy glooms invest. 
 
 I'll deck at will the rapturous scene, 
 
 And grasp its charms uncheck'd by thee 
 
 While memory pictures what has been, 
 And hope pourtrays what still may be.

 
 ON VISITING THE 
 
 AFTER HAVING ASCENDED IDA. 
 
 AMONGST our evening group, there was 
 one that seemed possessed of considerably 
 more information than the rest. We found 
 he had travelled, and that he had for some 
 time followed the profession of a sailor, and 
 in this capacity had visited most of the places 
 on the shores of the ^Egean and Euxine 
 seas : he shewed a good deal of curiosity 
 himself, and was able to communicate to us 
 all the local intelligence we wished to pro-
 
 28 
 
 cure. He now followed the occupation of 
 a hunter. Such was the man we were for- 
 tunate enough to obtain as a guide to conduct 
 us to the top of Khasdag. 
 
 At seven o'clock therefore, attended by 
 our conductor and his son, we set off. 7? 23', 
 we passed by the remains of an old building, 
 to which our guide gave the name of Cleesiah; 
 the only one they have to designate either 
 a temple or a church ; to which of these 
 this little edifice belonged, we could not 
 determine : the walls were about fifteen 
 paces in length, not more than eight or nine 
 asunder, and built in the rudest style, without 
 any appearance that they had formerly been 
 more ornamented.- -The country from hence, 
 for above a mile along the banks of the 
 river, bearing many marks of its having 
 once been built upon, but there was nothing
 
 29 
 
 that shewed any symptoms of elegance or 
 art.-^-7> 50', the ground began to rise, and 
 we perceived its constant concomitant, a 
 grove of pine trees. 9, 30', we crossed the 
 Menderi, now diminished to a torrent of 
 nine or ten feet broad : 10, continuing our 
 ascent, we arrived at a small plain embosomed 
 amongst rocks and woods ; and here, at a 
 little distance on the right, and about half 
 way up the rock, we beheld the stream of 
 the Menderi issuing from a cave surrounded 
 with trees, and tumbling down the crags in 
 a foaming cascade. We passed over another 
 small rill that skirted the little plain on 
 which we stood, in order to climb the pre- 
 cipice that led us to the spring. After a 
 steep ascent of about two hundred feet, we 
 arrived at the entrance of the cavern, which 
 " broods the jtood divine," and witnessed
 
 30 
 
 a scene more magnificent than I ever saw 
 before. 
 
 It is impossible to make descriptions of 
 picturesque scenery intelligible to others ; 
 but while the idea is fresh, I will try to put 
 it down, in order to store it up for myself. 
 
 Immediately in front appeared two large 
 openings in the rock, which led into the 
 cavern : upon entering the recess, two other 
 openings nearly answering to the outward 
 ones, like arches in a cloister, present them- 
 selves to the sight, and through one of them, 
 in a bason below, we perceive the just 
 emerged Scamander j the channel that 
 conducts the stream into the bason is a cleft 
 in the rock towards the right, only about 
 four feet in width, and near twenty in 
 height ; it winds inwards in a curve, and is 
 soon lost in darkness : at its bottom glides
 
 31 
 
 the current, which for a few moments seems 
 to repose in the bason beside, and then, by 
 another subterraneous channel, rushes to the 
 mouth, from whence it issues to the day : 
 it here bursts from the precipice and forms 
 a noble waterfall between forty and fifty 
 feet high, broken, and furnished with every ac- 
 companiment that the admirer of picturesque 
 beauty could require : its sides are fringed 
 with pine and brushwood ; below, it is 
 almost hidden from the view by immense 
 fragments of rock that have fallen from the 
 precipice, and above it hang crags of two 
 or three hundred feet in height, that jut over 
 the bases, in large angular prominences. 
 Such is something like the spring itself; 
 the dell in which it is situated did not 
 appear less picturesque ; on one side are the 
 rocks whence the cascade tumbles, running
 
 32 
 
 in a gentle curve on the other is a sweep- 
 ing amphitheatre of pine-clothed mountains, 
 one rising over the other, and closing the 
 dell completely on the right, but leaving a 
 narrow peep towards the left, through which 
 the sweet vale of the Menderi, together with 
 many of its mazy windings, are distinctly 
 seen. 11, 10', we left the spring, and set 
 out in order to ascend Khasdag. We were 
 in fact at present nearly half way up, there- 
 fore though the day did not promise to be 
 very favourable, we were determined to per- 
 severe in our attempt. 
 
 The ascent afforded not much variety of 
 prospect; our backs were turned to the vale, 
 and we had little to engage our attention, 
 except the greater or less degree of steepness 
 in the climb, or of thickness in the pine 
 forest. 11, 25', we saw some remains that
 
 33 
 
 looked like building, and at 11, 40', arrived 
 at the region of snow, which at first was 
 thinly scattered, but soon after covered the 
 ground in considerable quantity. We passed 
 several sheds in our ascent, which we found 
 were designed for the accommodation of those 
 who manufacture pitch the only species of 
 manufacture that the inhabitants of Abjilar 
 seem to aim at ;--------- 
 
 Here and there we found a small shelf in the 
 mountain, by winding up which, we in some 
 degree lessened the toil of a continual climb ; 
 but in general, the surface was so regular, 
 that we were obliged to mount in a right 
 line.- -12, 24', came to the highest collection 
 of water upon the mountain ; that too runs 
 into the stream of the Menderi.--!, 10', 
 after a most fatiguing walk through snow
 
 34 
 
 and sleet, we reached the top ; we were at 
 first so completely involved in mist and 
 clouds, that it was impossible to distinguish 
 any thing beyond the immediate precincts 
 of the mountain these however afforded 
 us some objects that highly interested our 
 curiosity. 
 
 That we now trod the summit of Ida, cannot, 
 I think, admit of one doubt; the snowy 
 head of Khasdag is the grand feature that 
 bounds the prospect throughout the whole 
 of this part of Asia -Minor. It is from 
 hence, that I believe, all the great rivers 
 take their origin, whether they flow into 
 the Hellespont, the Adramyttium gulph, or 
 the ^Egean sea. 
 
 It is the only spot in the neighbourhood,
 
 35 
 
 that a poet could ever think of fixing upon, 
 for the seat of the Immortals. And whether 
 Homer is perfectly accurate in many other 
 circumstances of his divine poem, or not, 
 we had an opportunity (by the intervention 
 of a friendly blast, which swept away the 
 surrounding mist, and left the atmosphere 
 in a clearer state than even if the sun had 
 shined the whole day) of testifying, that 
 most of those he attributes to Ida, are per- 
 fectly appropriate. Its top is ever covered 
 with snow, except for a month or two at 
 the end of autumn ; its sides are clothed 
 with forests, which, we were assured, afford 
 a constant shelter for various wild beasts; 
 the tracks of wolves, and wild boars, we 
 were ourselves shewn by our guide, in the 
 snow ; its vallies stream with rivulets, 
 which water, under different designations,
 
 36 
 
 almost all the plains of the north-east of Asia- 
 Minor.- -The prospect exhibited from its 
 top is at least as comprehensive as the one 
 mentioned by the poet; it embraces Mysia, 
 the Propontis, the Hellespont, nearly the 
 whole of the ^Egean, and a number of the 
 islands with which that sea is studded ; it 
 extends to Lydia, Bythinia, and Macedonia ; 
 and is only bounded by the Olympic 
 range theThracian mountains, Athos, and 
 the Euxine." 
 
 Journal of a Route through the Troad, March, 1801. 
 
 HAIL, hallow'd fount ! my hopes are blest 
 At length I've view'd thy mystic bed, 
 
 At length my eager feet have press 'd 
 Thy parent mountain's towering head :
 
 37 
 
 Scamander, hail ! with reverence fraught, 
 
 I've seen thy rifted dark abode, 
 Nor wonder'd that thy children thought 
 
 There yawn'd the cradle of a God. 
 
 O'er Ida's heights I've wound my way, 
 And as I scann'd th' horizon's bound, 
 
 Have halfbeliev'd the chanted lay, 
 And fancied Deities around. 
 
 Oh ! for a strain those scenes to shew 
 The chasm that gives thy waves to light 
 
 The hanging arches, where they flow 
 The cloister where they're lost in night 
 
 The opening cleft, whence they descend 
 
 White trembling down the steep rock's side- 
 
 The crags above, that beetling bend 
 To gaze upon the bursting tide
 
 The piney hills that close the dale, 
 And, circling, to thy rocks incline, 
 
 Yet leave a peep to shew the vale, 
 And shew that all that vale is thine. 
 
 And oh ! for equal strains to trace 
 What scenes from Ida we explore, 
 
 The snowy top the shaggy base 
 
 The spreading plain the distant shore 
 
 Ere one soft beam from April's eye 
 
 Has rous'd the slumbering buds to blow, 
 
 Ida's bright rills can life supply, 
 And waken verdure as they flow : 
 
 In every mead around him hung 
 
 Ida's wide-wandering streams are seen, 
 
 Bright silvery threads, at random flung, 
 That glitter on a robe of green.
 
 39 
 
 Those plains jfcsepus, Radios lave, 
 Granicus, once so dear to fame 
 
 Yet all, Scamander, but thy wave, 
 Now sink in some barbaric name. 
 
 What spot, beside, within the zone, 
 
 Where man has rang'd, or sought to dwell ; 
 
 What circuit, where such cities shone, 
 So many empires rose and fell ? 
 
 There Lydia^ Phrygian half-known plains, 
 
 Bythinia, Pergamus expand 
 There Nicomedias sad remains, 
 
 And proud Byzantiums turrets stand 
 
 From Is Iris' flood to Pont us' shores 
 There Euxines bosom we survey 
 
 There, midst his isles, the sEgean roars, 
 And Helles gentler billows play
 
 40 
 
 While, cross the waves, in shelving rows, 
 Thracia's bleak hills their summits rear, 
 
 And Athos, cloth'd in kindred snows, 
 Salutes, from Greece, a brother here. 
 
 Yet, hallow'd stream ! there are who've shed 
 
 Thine honours o'er a subject rill, 
 The chaplet torn from Ida's head 
 
 To bind it on a nameless hill ; 
 
 And while, with reckless hand, they've dar'd 
 To rend thy parent's wreaths and thine, 
 
 They've fondly thought they rais'd the Bard 
 Whose Muse alone those wreaths could twine 
 
 Oh ! mighty master of the lyre, 
 
 By rapture's magic fingers strung, 
 Who, who can drink thy strains of fire 
 
 And listen to the critic's tongue ?
 
 41 
 
 Force the wrapt tide of song to sleep, 
 Or bid it stagnate in the vale 
 
 But doom, ah ! doom it not to creep 
 As flows the dull recorded tale. 
 
 Shall stern Reality presume 
 
 To group the flowers in Fancy's field ? 
 Farewell then every roseat bloom, 
 
 Or honied sweet, those flowers could yield- 
 Farewell the dear creative arts 
 
 What scenes the pencil's powers unroll 
 The sculptor's touch, that life imparts 
 
 The extatic shell, that breathes a soul 
 
 Must I, intranc'd in Milton's lays, 
 
 No more, then tread his bowers of bliss 
 
 No more, in solemn terror gaze, 
 
 As glides the fiend o'er death's abyss ? 
 
 G
 
 42 
 
 No more, thro' Tasso's forests rove, 
 To see the enchanted Knight set free ; 
 
 And breathless wait, as heaves the grove, 
 Charm'd by a spell more strong than he ? 
 
 From Ossian's harp, no longer hear 
 
 The ghost's shrill scream, the white wave toss'd ; 
 Must Selma's halls no more appear, 
 
 And Cona's voice itself be lost ? 
 
 Must I no more, delighted, stray 
 
 My native brakes and glens among, 
 To catch, ere quite they melt away, 
 
 The last notes of the minstrel's song ; 
 
 Those Bards that roam'd the lonely hill 
 
 And cull'd tradition's scanty dews, 
 Yet form'd from thence a stream to fill 
 
 The amplest fountains of the Muse ?
 
 43 
 
 Or shall each son, that strikes the lyre, 
 Sweep it as Fancy's fingers lead, 
 
 And thou, the shell's immortal sire, 
 Thou only be denied the meed ? 
 
 Forbid it every genial power 
 
 That bids the mental blossom rise, 
 And fosters the expanding flower 
 
 To all that's good, and great, and wise- 
 Forbid it every kindling glow, 
 
 Instinctive trilling through the frame, 
 That whilom taught thy Greece to know 
 
 The fervours of her poet's flame 
 
 Tell, as thou will'st, the streams to glide, 
 The plains to spread, the hills to rise, 
 
 Bid Argive fleets, in myriads ride, 
 
 And Ilium's bulwarks pierce the skies
 
 44 
 
 Let me, great Bard, but catch the lay 
 Wafted thro' time, on transport's wings, 
 
 And every raptur'd sense shall say, 
 Truth can but speak as Homer sings,
 
 45 
 
 ON 
 
 LEAVING ATHOS. 
 
 "March 31.- HAD we arrived at this place 
 aftet^ the most delightful voyage, it must 
 have struck us with its beauty ; what then 
 must it have done now? How much must 
 contrast have raised it in our thoughts? 
 Batopade is one of the oldest, if not the 
 very oldest, monastery in Greece ; it is situa- 
 ted upon a hill that immediately overlooks 
 the sea; the ground between, and beyond 
 it, is laid out in a way that taste itself 
 would have dictated, the side of every
 
 46 
 
 swell is planted with the olive and the top 
 of every one, grass or corn. Behind the mo- 
 nastery., the mountains rise very abrupt, but 
 covered with wood, and broken into several 
 green vallies, through which a number of 
 clear streams hurry on to the sea. The 
 building itself is as old as the time of 
 Theodosius, having been erected by him, in 
 consequence of having his son Arcadius 
 preserved under a bramble bush on the 
 coast, when the ship in which he was em- 
 barked, in order to come from Rome (where 
 he had been visiting his brother Honorius) 
 to Constantinople, was assaulted by a tempest 
 in the neighbourhood of Athos. Arcadius 
 petitioned the Virgin to preserve him from 
 the storm, and soon after disappeared ; 
 his courtiers thought he had fallen over- 
 board, and gave him up for lost, but upon
 
 47 
 
 landing on the peninsula of Athos, found him 
 safe and asleep, under a bramble ; hence the 
 monastery acquired its name, compounded 
 of batos, a bramble, and paidos, a child. 
 The structure of the convent is more that of 
 a castle, than that of a religious edifice ; it 
 possesses little elegance, but it has all the 
 grandeur of strength and antiquity. It is 
 not wonderful that such a building, in such a 
 situation, and after such a voyage, appeared 
 like a magic scene, raised by the wand of an 
 enchanter. We soon got on shore, and pro- 
 ceeded to the convent, where we were 
 received, and accommodated, with every de- 
 monstration of kindness. 
 
 April 5th. We passed this day in ram- 
 bling among the sweet woods with which 
 the monastery is encompassed. Nothing
 
 48 
 
 can be more romantic than the aqueducts 
 that convey water to the convent : they run 
 along the sides of the hills, and over the 
 vallies through glades, and under rocks, in 
 all the beauty of regular irregularity and 
 seem rather calculated for the ornament of 
 a pleasure ground, than for the supply of a 
 monastery : the termination of one of them 
 which we traced, was at a quiet little cascade, 
 that appeared never to have been visited 
 before by human steps. In the evening we 
 were entertained, or disturbed, by the noisy 
 mirth of a large company of Albanian 
 pilgrims, who came to pass the holy week 
 in the mountain: they sung, danced, and 
 drank, and in the intervals of their amuse- 
 ment fired their guns continually over the 
 windows. What a strange picture did these 
 fellows exhibit ? Most of them were robbers,
 
 49 
 
 and the greatest part of their songs recounted 
 the thievish exploits which they had ac- 
 complished ; their appearance was more 
 ferocious than any thing I had ever before 
 seen ; the triumph which lighted up their 
 countenances upon every discharge of their 
 muskets, shewed but too plainly with what 
 little compunction they could be guilty of 
 the most dreadful deeds : and yet these 
 fellows entered the church with the most 
 humble and penitent looks ; nay, I thought 
 I saw a tear start from the eye of one of 
 them, upon seeing the picture of our Lord.- 
 They are no doubt very savage, but might 
 they not be still more so, were the little civi- 
 lization withdrawn which they derive from 
 the existence of the monasteries ?" 
 
 Journal of a Route through Greece 1801. 
 
 H
 
 50 
 
 SWEET spot ! no more thy mountains must I tread, 
 No more delighted on thy dells must gaze, 
 
 Where nature's boldest, softest charms are spread, 
 To sooth retirement, or devotion raise. 
 
 Sweet spot ! thy beauties from my eye may glide, 
 But every tint on memory's roll shall last, 
 
 Each varied scene I've witness'd on thy side, 
 
 Each solemn hour among those scenes I've pass'd. 
 
 Still, still in thought, the winding glade I trace, 
 Mark the deep chasm by many a torrent worn ; 
 
 The tufts of shade that clothe each tall rock's base, 
 The streaks of verdure that his brows adorn : 
 
 Still I behold the ridgy hills aspire, 
 
 Wave beyond wave, as heaved the rifted ground, 
 While towering Athos, like some hoary sire, 
 
 Lifts his white head to view his sons around :
 
 51 
 
 Still, still beneath thy cloister 'd domes I stand, 
 
 Or wander thro' thy solitary cells, 
 Where, spite of all that blasts a drooping land, 
 
 Learning yet lingers, Piety yet dwells. 
 
 Oh, never shall my heart forget the ties 
 
 Beneath those domes by friendship round it wreath'd, 
 The words of kindness, and the glistening eyes 
 
 That spoke a welcome ere the words were breath'd : 
 
 Ne'er shall it cease, in grateful throbs to own 
 The worth and talents it has honour'd there ; 
 
 The zeal and science that the world have flown, 
 To find their duties and their joys in prayer. 
 
 Haply those virtues that illume the shade, 
 
 To courts or camps might lustre have supplied ; 
 
 But let not vain regret their cells invade, 
 In life's rude storm perhaps the flame had died.
 
 52 
 
 Nor let misguided folly rashly deem 
 
 Those virtues shine with empty splendour fraught, 
 When lands benighted brighten with the beam, 
 
 And torpid bosoms kindle into thought 
 
 Too few may be the beams too faint to dawn 
 Truth's vivid light thro' each secluded glen ; 
 
 But think, ah think, were those few beams withdrawn, 
 How dark a gloom would shroud the prospect then ! 
 
 Few are the cultur'd specks on Athos' side, 
 But every green-edg'd forest waves a grove ; 
 
 Blight those few specks, the tangled brake spreads wide, 
 And only tigers thro' the desert rove. 
 
 I've seen Albania's tribes the cloister seek, 
 
 And heard their tales of murder half express 'd ; 
 
 The blush of vengeance reddened on their cheek, 
 And the yet blood-stain'd sabre told the rest,
 
 53 
 
 They join'd the rites. I saw the big tear start, 
 The deep sigh struggle, as the choir they trod : 
 
 That tear might shed contrition on the heart, 
 That sigh might waft th' awakening soul to God. 
 
 Perhaps in regions blest with freedom's smile, 
 Where knowledge pours its tide thro' every dale, 
 
 The cloister 'd dome may sink an useless pile, 
 Or gleam an ivy'd tower to grace the vale: 
 
 But let not those fall'n domes forgotten sink, 
 Midst reason's triumph, or refinement's boast 
 
 Not favour'd Britain once could knowledge drink 
 But where the convent stream'd it o'er the coast. 
 
 Oh ! when the hour shall come, as soon it must, 
 When Othman's tottering empire prostrate lies, 
 
 When the pale Crescent hides its head in dust, 
 And Moslem splendour sinks no more to rise,
 
 54 
 
 May no reforming fiend of Gallic brood, 
 
 O'er these sad seats his blasting wings expand ! 
 
 Their altars ravage, dye their shades with blood, 
 And scatter horrors o'er the shrieking land ; 
 
 Oh may some bosom where the virtues play, 
 Where Pity's eye a sheltering home can see, 
 
 Reform their errors lop their faults away 
 
 But, while the shoots are prun'd, support the tree. 
 
 Then shall these seats once more the blessings shed, 
 Again through Greece diffuse her ancient lore 
 
 Cherish her offspring raise her drooping head 
 And Truth revive, and Faith's pure light restore!
 
 55 
 
 ON VIEWING 
 
 ATHENS FROM THE PNYX, 
 
 BY THE 
 
 LIGHT OF A WANING MOON. 
 
 FULL well, dim lamp, thy waning form accords 
 With the sunk splendours of Pelasgia's queen 
 
 Yet ample light that half-swell'd orb affords 
 To clear to Fancy the surrounding scene. 
 
 Her glance shall pierce the darkness, and display 
 Fame's radiant seat in all its glory deck'd, 
 
 Unchang'd by time, uninjur'd by decay, 
 
 The Goth's dire rage, or Turk's more dire neglect.
 
 56 
 
 Her touch shall rear each edifice o'erthrown, 
 Each mould'ring pile to former pomp restore, 
 
 And as they rise, with wonder she shall own 
 
 That art could range, where fancy dar'd not soar. 
 
 But all's not Fancy's from admist the blaze 
 Of sculptur'd splendour once around thee shed, 
 
 Enough remains to tell the raptur'd gaze, 
 
 The beating breast 'tis Athens that we tread. 
 
 Those walls, by Theseus rais'd, we yet can trace, 
 That round thy rock their waving circuit twine, 
 
 Where every battlement unfolds a grace 
 Unknown to domes or palaces but thine, 
 
 Yet gleams the hero's temple simply plain, 
 Sublimely great the living wonder see ! 
 
 Fresh as of old its blooming charms remain, 
 
 To mark to modern pride what Greece could be.
 
 57 
 
 Along yon brow, that crowns the craggy height, 
 The shatter'd Parthenon her front expands, 
 
 Still thro' her ruins flaming on the sight, 
 The first, the fairest work of human hands. 
 
 Still wave the olive groves, that stretch'd their shade 
 O'er buried patriots, and o'er studious youth 
 
 Where Academus rose where wisdom stray 'd 
 To catch the voice of Socrates and truth. 
 
 Still red Hymettus shews his perfum'd head 
 Cephisus still sheds verdure thro' the plain 
 
 Still parch'd Ilyssus stagnates on his bed, 
 Or rolls a wintry torrent to the main. 
 
 Still where yon track ere closing eve I saw 
 
 Where o'er the crag the chizzel'd pathway bends- 
 
 The throne of Equity the boast of Law 
 Still Areopagus unchang'd extends.
 
 58 
 
 Here once trod Solon from this far-fam'd seat 
 He bade his Athens every blessing share 
 
 Here toil'd Themistocles to make her great 
 And Pericles to see her learn'd and fair 
 
 Where juts the rock to form yon mossy shelf 
 And those tall thistles with the breezes swell 
 
 There, sighing for his country, not himself 
 Unblemish'd Aristides chalk'd the shell 
 
 Ye glorious names long honour 'd long caress 'd 
 Ye seats oft thought on, that at length appear 
 
 With what sensations do ye heave my breast 
 What kindling fervours wake, unfelt but here ? 
 
 Whence is it that those names, these seats should yield 
 A thrilling throb no other scenes e'er gave ? 
 
 Britain can boast full many a sweeter field, 
 Sages as wise, and combatants as brave.
 
 59 
 
 
 
 Some fond remembrance some connected thought 
 Hovers around each antiquated stone 
 
 Each scene retraced with conscious pleasures fraught, 
 And Athens' youth recall'd recalls my own. 
 
 While History tells the deeds that grac'd yon vale, 
 The spot where oft I've mark'd them memory shews- 
 
 The rising picture hides the fleeting tale 
 Ilyssus vanishes and Granta flows. 
 
 Again I see life's renovated spring 
 
 With every opening hour and every smile, 
 
 Unnipt by care unbrush'd by sorrow's wing, 
 That welcom'd pleasure when they welcom'd toil. 
 
 Again I see that gay, that busy band, 
 
 With whom I wander'd by the willowy stream, 
 
 Where nature's truths or history's page we scann'd, 
 And deem'd we reason'd on the various theme.
 
 60 
 
 Where are they now? some struggling in the waves 
 Of care or trouble, anguish, want, or fear 
 
 Some sunk in death, and mould'ring in their graves 
 Like the once busy throngs that bustled here. 
 
 Dim waning Planet ! that behind yon hill 
 
 Hast'nest to lose in shades thy glimmering light, 
 
 A few short days thy changing orb shall fill 
 Again to sparkle in the locks of night : 
 
 And thou, fall'n city, where barbarians tread, 
 Whose sculptur'd arches form the foxes den, 
 
 In circling time perhaps may lift thy head 
 The queen of arts and elegance again. 
 
 But oh ! lov'd youths, departed from the day, 
 
 What time, what change shall dissipate your gloom ? 
 
 Nor change, nor time, till time has roll'd away, 
 Recalls to light the tenants of the tomb :
 
 61 
 
 Ye* re set in death and soon this fragile frame, 
 That weeps your transit, shall your path pursue 
 
 Each toil forego renounce each favourite aim 
 Glide from the fading world, and sink with you. 
 
 Father of spirits ! ere that awful hour, 
 While life yet lingers let it feel thy ray, 
 
 Teach it some beams of scatter'd good to pour 
 Some useful light, as it flits on, display ! 
 
 I ask no following radiance to appear 
 
 To mark its track, for praise or fame to see, 
 
 But oh, may Hope its last faint glimmerings cheer, 
 And Faith waft on the spark unquench'd to Thee !
 
 A PROSPECT OF PARNASSUS, 
 
 FROM THE HEIGHTS BETWEEN 
 
 ELEUSIS AND MEGARA. 
 
 TO THE MUSE. 
 
 'Tis fruitless all lov'd spot, in vain 
 
 I bend my steps to thee 
 In vain my aching eye-balls strain, 
 
 Thy cliffs I must not see ; 
 
 The ruffian band around thee spread 
 
 Forbid my foot's advance, 
 And now yon clouds that hide thy head 
 
 Refuse a distant glance.
 
 63 
 
 But dim and distant as thou art, 
 Tho' horrors round thee glare 
 
 Yet gratitude shall speed my heart, 
 To leave a tribute there 
 
 Yes, gratitude my heart shall speed 
 Athwart th' expanse to glide, 
 
 To thank the Muse for every meed 
 She's granted or denied. 
 
 She did not breathe a strain of fire 
 
 To roll in flames along, 
 To kindle the extatic lyre, 
 
 And wrap each thought in song ; 
 
 She deign'd a mild but constant beam, 
 That every gloom beguiles, 
 
 That sheds on life a cheering gleam, 
 And gilds each hour with smiles.
 
 64 
 
 The Muse's beams, too well I know, 
 
 Can pour a painful light, 
 And many a tint assume a glow 
 
 To agonize the sight : 
 
 When doom'd to weep the bliss remov'd, 
 
 Or parting friend deplore, 
 The touch that heightens all we lov'd 
 
 But marks its loss the more. 
 
 Yet let not pride the boon disdain, 
 
 Or petulance deny 
 Those powers that double every pain, 
 
 Can double every joy : 
 
 Tis theirs to deck the short-liv'd flower 
 
 With fancy's fairest hue, 
 And when it's cropt, in memory's bower, 
 
 To bid it bloom anew.
 
 65 
 
 But few the sparkling moments giv'n 
 To trill thro' shores of bliss, 
 
 Nor many, thanks to gracious heav'n, 
 Ingulph'd in woe's abyss ; 
 
 The general stream, the lapse of life, 
 
 An evener tenor keeps 
 Midst daily care and petty strife, 
 
 Its vapid current creeps ; 
 
 Tis then the Muse's charm is dealt 
 
 To decorate the scene, 
 Then is its magic influence felt, 
 
 And rapture owns her queen. 
 
 Oh ! let me hail the genial power, 
 And say how much I owe, 
 
 For every languor-rescued hour 
 It taught a livelier flow 
 
 K
 
 66 
 
 Hence, nor beneath my natal shade, 
 
 Nor in the distant plain, 
 Nor labouring up the rugged glade. 
 
 Nor resting on the main, 
 
 Nor wandering thro' the silent gloom. 
 
 Where solitude reclines, 
 Nor treading e'en the crowded room 
 
 Where yawning pleasure pines, 
 
 Ne'er, ne'er since youth's unconscious spring 
 
 First drank the vivid ray, 
 Ne'er have I chid time's lagging wing, 
 
 Or known the listless day. 
 
 For eveiy feature, groves or fields, 
 
 Men, cities, rocks or seas, 
 Each object art or nature yields 
 
 The Muse can mould to please ;
 
 67 
 
 To her, nor weeds deform the ground, 
 
 Nor hurricanes the air, 
 No desert can be barren found, 
 
 No precipice be bare ; 
 
 Alike the scene that truth unfolds, 
 
 Or fiction wafts to sight 
 Whate'er the Muse's eye beholds 
 
 Brightens and beams delight. 
 
 Amidst the range yon mountain's brow 
 
 Develops to the gaze, 
 Say, what will apathy allow 
 
 Her fretful glance surveys ? 
 
 Here an old town its turrets rears 
 
 There lies a ruin'd pile 
 Cross the deserted deep appears 
 
 A desolated isle
 
 68 
 
 That town is Megara. Can the Muse 
 
 Thus cold the spot inn o'er ? 
 No, midst those mould'ring walls she views 
 
 Whate'er was there before 
 
 Again the busy, bustling swarm 
 
 The crowded city's trac'd, 
 And every breast with glory warm 
 
 That Athens' rival grac'd. 
 
 That pile's Eleusis Raptur'd maid ! 
 
 What visions meet thine eyes ? 
 Once more thou see'st the solemn shade- 
 
 The hallow'd fane arise 
 
 There swell'd the mystic rite with awe 
 The fearful step must move 
 
 Oh ! I could gaze, and think I saw 
 The goddess rock the grove
 
 69 
 
 That island's Salamis where fame 
 In noontide splendour shone, 
 
 And blaz'd on Greece the deathless name 
 That dawn'd at Marathon 
 
 Touch'd by the Muse, th' heroic train 
 
 Still in the battle breathes 
 The years roll back, and Greece again 
 
 Is deck'd in all her wreaths. 
 
 Oh ! midst these seats that fable's tongue, 
 
 Or history's pen engage, 
 Still be it thine t' illume the song, 
 
 And vivify the page ; 
 
 And when to busier paths I fly, 
 Bright queen be with me still, 
 
 Each thought unclaim'd to occupy, 
 Each vacant pause to fill ;
 
 70 
 
 Bright queen of fancy, still be there 
 Th' enlivening ray to pour 
 
 But ah ! seductive maid, forbear 
 To steal on duty's hour.
 
 71 
 
 WRITTEN ON THE 
 
 BANKS OF THE BOSPHORUS. 
 
 NOT one bay or promontory on the shores 
 of the Bosphorus, but what exhibits some 
 picturesque beauty, and scarce any, but 
 what possesses either fabulous or historical 
 celebrity. 
 
 The room I inhabit literally overhangs 
 the water. Immediately opposite to my 
 window, on the Asiatic side, rises a hill, 
 which was formerly called the Bed of Her- 
 cules, but which at present is styled the 
 Mountain of the Giant, as there is buried 
 upon it the thigh-bone of the prophet Isaiah,
 
 72 
 
 the grave of which, measures no less than 
 nineteen yards in length a mosque is built 
 adjoining the cemetery, and a dervise is ap- 
 pointed to attend it, and to receive the 
 pilgrims who resort thither to pay their 
 devotions. 
 
 I have been very frequently to visit the 
 sacred spot : my object in making the pil- 
 grimage, was to enjoy, from the top of the 
 mountain, one of the sweetest, and at the 
 same time the most interesting prospects, 
 that I believe the world affords. The 
 Giant's Mountain is situated about midway 
 in the Bosphorus, and commands a view of 
 the whole of its extent. 
 
 Towards the north you have the reach 
 leading to the Black Sea; the shores on 
 both sides are abrupt precipices all the way 
 bold and barren ; and you see the Euxine,
 
 73 
 
 at the end of the two dark cheeks, like a 
 sheet of sapphire. The only striking object 
 that intervenes, is the ruin of an old castle, 
 situated upon the brow of one of the boldest 
 promontories, and just in that picturesque 
 state of decay that the masterly hand of 
 Cromwell has effected in so many of our 
 ancient fortifications in England.- -This castle 
 was erected by the Byzantines, repaired by 
 the Greek Emperors, and restored by the 
 Genoese at the time they possessed the 
 commerce of these countries.- 
 
 The view to the south is still more strik- 
 ing ; you have the windings of the Bos- 
 phorus almost quite to the Propontis.- -The 
 shores are rather beautiful than magnificent, 
 consisting principally of gentle swells, but 
 differently shaped, and differently adorned ; 
 some of them are simple slopes covered 
 
 L
 
 74 
 
 with verdure, others are clothed with vine- 
 yards, some are broken into rocks, and 
 spotted with pines, and a few, where there 
 are cemeteries, shaded with the dark green 
 of the Cyprus. At every opening of a valley 
 (and there are several on both sides of the 
 Strait) you have a meadow as grassy as any 
 I have seen in England, and shadowed with 
 trees of as large a size. 
 
 Both the European and Asiatic shores 
 are fringed with villages and kiosks ; the 
 prospect is terminated by the minarets of 
 Constantinople, the Propontis with its islands, 
 and the blue ridge of Olympus. One of 
 the most remarkable features in the picture 
 is the Castle of the Janissaries the Tower 
 of Oblivion, which pushes itself forward 
 into the sea, as if to meet the Asiatic castle 
 on the other side.
 
 75 
 
 Who can look at this pass, without 
 feeling some glow at the recollection of the 
 events which have there taken place ?- -The 
 adventures of lo, the combat of the Argo- 
 nauts, the passage of Darius into Scythia 
 and Greece, of Godfrey de Boulogne into 
 Palestine, of Mohammed to attack Constan- 
 tinople. It is curious that the same spot 
 should have witnessed (or have been said to 
 have witnessed) so many celebrated transac- 
 tions ; transactions which in themselves and 
 their consequences, certainly embrace the 
 most interesting parts of human history : 
 it also affords some striking illustrations of 
 a moral, which (however skilfully the latter 
 part of it may be slurred over by those 
 sceptical writers, who unfortunately both in 
 our country and others, have stepped for- 
 ward as historians) is, I conceive, strictly
 
 76 
 
 true, (viz.) that though " the events of history 
 consist only of a tissue of follies and crimes/' 
 
 / 
 
 yet these events in their consequences, tend 
 to promote order, and to produce happiness ; 
 -that though man is but too liable to change 
 good into evil, Providence can always con- 
 vert that evil into good.- -Thus, from the 
 piracy and depredations of the Argonauts, 
 arose navigation., and the first symptoms of 
 civilization in Greece. The invasion of 
 Darius, and the subsequent wars with Persia, 
 consolidated her into one people, called 
 forth her energies and exertions in every art 
 and science, and ultimately spread her lan- 
 guage through the world, to serve at length 
 as a vehicle for religion. To the fury and 
 madness of the Crusades, we owe perhaps 
 most of the comforts of modern life; general 
 urbanity of manners, attention to the more
 
 77 
 
 minute decencies, the introduction of female 
 society. The conquests of the Turks, and 
 the overthrow of Constantinople, civilized 
 the rest of Europe ; and in a way perhaps 
 more rapid than could otherwise have been 
 effected, spread light and literature through 
 the world/ 
 
 FRESH and gay's the verdure shed 
 O'er yon valley's faded green 
 
 Twas the flood so widely spread, 
 
 Thus with emeralds gemm'd the scene. 
 
 Bright yon tide reflects the day, 
 Sparkling on the shore it laves 
 
 Last night's tempest swept away 
 Every film that dimm'd the waves.
 
 78 
 
 Blue and clear the morning's brow 
 Soft and fragrant breathes the air ; 
 
 What were mists are ether now, 
 Melted by the light'ning's glare. 
 
 " Hail that Power, whose gracious will 
 " Wakes the tempest, pours the flood 
 
 " Taught by him, each germ of ill 
 " Blossoms in expansive good." 
 
 Thanks, dervise, for thy strain 
 Well it pourtrays the gracious cause 
 
 Why seeming ills thro' nature reign, 
 
 And well it vindicates her bounteous laws. 
 
 O ! could thy song as well 
 
 The moral prospect scan, 
 Thus clear its ills its doubts dispel, 
 
 And deck in guise of good the deeds of man !
 
 79 
 
 But ah ! while here on Bosphorus's shore, 
 
 Where fable flourished, and where history rose, 
 
 While here I stand, what spot can I explore 
 
 But some sad scene attests of horrors, crimes and woes ! 
 
 Mark yon tufted fields that lie 
 
 Smiling by the mountain's feet ; 
 
 Where could peace a scene descry, 
 Fitter for her hallow'd seat ? 
 
 Seldom has that seat been rear'd 
 
 Midst yon fields, beneath yon shade ; 
 
 Discord's din, by madmen cheer'd, 
 Frighted hence the trembling maid. 
 
 There old Argo's pirate crew, 
 Cluster 'd on the velvet plain, 
 
 There they fought, and thence they (lew, 
 Red with slaughter to the main.
 
 80 
 
 Where around yon rocky steep 
 
 Euxine's waves his rage display, 
 Thence they plough'd the roaring deep 
 
 Till they grasp'd the golden prey. 
 
 How many a various source of woe 
 
 Flow'd from that daring deed ; 
 How many a tear was taught to flow, 
 
 How many a future bosom doom'd to bleed ? 
 
 In predatory war 
 
 The hostile bands engage 
 And Greece alike, and Asia long must share 
 
 Alternate ravages, alternate rage, 
 
 Till swelTd by mutual wrongs and mutual hate, 
 The poison'd cup boil'd o'er in Ida's vale, 
 
 And Ilium's sorrows, Hector's hapless fate, 
 
 And the sad Conqueror's ills shut up th' afflictive tale.
 
 81 
 
 Farther up the shelving coast, 
 
 On yon rock Darius stood, 
 There he rang'd his martial host, 
 
 Thence he sped them o'er the flood 
 
 " Scythia first my wrath shall feel" 
 Ah forbear the flame to raise ! 
 
 When a spark once quits the steel, 
 Who shall say where stops the blaze? 
 
 Many an age and many a race 
 
 Long shall curse thy hated power ; 
 
 Endless woes shall Persia trace, 
 Endless ills from this rash hour. 
 
 Check, ah check thy wild career 
 Madd'ning vengeance drives thee on ; 
 
 Harrowing shrieks thou soon shalt hear, 
 Shrieks of ghosts from Marathon. 
 
 M
 
 82 
 
 The son succeeds the sire 
 
 See Xerxes' flag unfurl'd 
 With deeper hate and deadlier ire 
 
 He pours on frighted Greece a following world. 
 
 Tho' ruin'd Athens crush' d was mourn'd, 
 
 Tho' Sparta felt the sword, 
 Plataea's day each wrong return'd 
 
 On slaughter'd myriads, and their baffled lord. 
 
 Nor Persia ceas'd thy woes Granicus' shore, 
 Arbela's plain, resound the victor's boast 
 
 Wider and wider spreads the stream of gore, 
 
 Till in the purple tide thy name, thine empire's lost. 
 
 Blush, Granicus, blush to see 
 
 Carnage drench once more thy waves 
 There was seal'd fate's stern decree 
 
 Rome shall rule a world of slaves.
 
 83 
 
 Fruitless fought the Pontic king, 
 
 Vainly rous'd each fresh array; 
 Giant Rome's o'erpowering wing 
 
 Swept th' embattled ranks away. 
 
 Plung'd in sorrow nations lie 
 
 Yet herself no joys shall know 
 Foes are vanquished, rivals fly, 
 
 Rome is Rome's severest foe. 
 
 See the kindred bands advance- 
 Brothers pierc'd by brothers fall ; 
 
 Sons on sires hurl back the lance 
 Till a despot crushes all. 
 
 Then humbled Rome in turn, 
 
 Bow'd to the oppressor's rod ; 
 Her tyrant's hate, her tyrant's scorn, 
 
 Wept at their crimes, but trembled at their nod,
 
 84 
 
 Twas hence Byzantium grew 
 
 In all her glittering pride 
 The monarch spoke the servile crew 
 
 Rais'd yonder splendid pile to crown the tide. 
 
 Byzantium rose, and flattering slaves might tell 
 
 How wide she stretch'd, how high she rear'd her head ; 
 
 The wretched exile forc'd these crowds to swell, 
 
 Curs'd ev'ry golden dome, and mourn'd his native shed. 
 
 Cross the wave see yon green vale 
 What's the host that musters there ? 
 
 Different banners ride the gale, 
 Different arms the warriors bear 
 
 There the wild Crusaders form 
 There assembled Europe stands 
 
 Heav'n they deem awakes the storm, 
 Hell the Paynim's blood demands.
 
 85 
 
 Godfrey leads th* enthusiasts on 
 
 See, they seek yon grassy bay ; 
 Towns destroy 'd and realms o'erthrown 
 
 Thence shall mark the furious way. 
 
 Fruitless strive the Moslem powers 
 Hosts are vanquished, chieftains fall ; 
 
 Till the Cross thro' sanguine showers 
 Gleam'd on Sion's sacred wall. 
 
 The Moslem world afar 
 
 Mourn'd the polluted fane, 
 And long the flames of holy war 
 
 Blaz'd from Hydaspes to th' Atlantic main. 
 
 In vain the Barons bled, 
 
 In vain Crusaders pour'd, 
 Fell Saladin the battle led, 
 
 And Sion wept once more a Moslem lord.
 
 86 
 
 Tho* Richard fought tho* many a champion keen 
 Track'd his bright path fort after fort was reft, 
 
 Knight sunk on knight till Lewis clos'd the scene 
 And hope for ever fled, and hate alone was left. 
 
 Yet again behold yon shore 
 
 Where the fierce Crusaders lay, 
 
 Thence Mohammed wafted o'er 
 Squadrons fiercer still than they 
 
 Seated on Oblivion's tower, 
 
 Dark they brood Byzantium's doom 
 Waning Greece, thy fated hour 
 
 Lowers behind the deep'ning gloom. 
 
 O'er thy plains their ranks are spread, 
 Round thy walls their squadrons close ; 
 
 Not a bulwark rears its head 
 But some scar of battle shews.
 
 87 
 
 " Let my ships," Mohammed cried, 
 
 " Dragg'd along yon mountain's brow, 
 " Over hills and vallies glide 
 
 " Till the harbour's breast they plough/' 
 
 The Sultan breathes the law 
 
 His ships the harbour sought ; 
 Sad Constantine the wonder saw, 
 
 And shook his bosom with a dastard thought. 
 
 Yon bloody tower can tell 
 
 There fought the gallant train ; 
 There, midst his chiefs, the hero fell, 
 
 And blest the sword that sent him to the slain. 
 
 Then, lost Byzantium, wert thou doom'd to wail 
 
 For three long days whatever rage or avarice could frame, 
 
 Or hatred prompt ah ! hide the dreadful tale, 
 And blofc th' historic roll that ills alone proclaim.
 
 88 
 
 " Hail that Power, whose gracious will 
 " Wakes the tempest, pours the flood- 
 
 " Taught by him each germ of ill 
 " Blossoms in expansive good." 
 
 Dervise, dost thou deem aright? 
 
 Canst thou still that strain prolong ? 
 Yes I see the opening light 
 
 Right thou deem'st, and true thy song. 
 
 Guilt and crimes may evil send, 
 Bursting every source of woe ; 
 
 Heaven the poison' d stream can bend 
 Till its waves benignant flow. 
 
 Once again time's records scan, 
 
 History's scenes once more unfold : 
 
 But beware the event to ban, 
 Ere its wide effects be told.
 
 89 
 
 There Jason pour'd his crew 
 
 Tho' horrors mark'd the deed, 
 Did no bright gleam the track pursue ? 
 
 No ray of good those clouds of woe succeed? 
 
 Thence Navigation sprung 
 
 Thence Commerce learnt to sweep 
 Far from the coasts where long she'd clung, 
 
 And brush'd, with fearless wing, the distant dee]). 
 
 Hence arts unknown, and truths unheard before 
 Were wafted round, thro* each sequestered glen 
 
 Hence gentler manners smiled on every shore, 
 And wild barbarian tribes were soften' d into men 
 
 Yon dark cliff recalls the hour 
 
 When Darius wak'd the storm 
 Still its brows seem sad to lower 
 
 As th' embattled squadrons form. 
 
 N
 
 90 
 
 Does it nought recall beside ? 
 
 Yes let raptur'd Freedom say 
 How her Greece those hosts defied 
 
 How she roll'd the storm away : 
 
 How those energies gleam' d forth, 
 That at once fir'd every heart, 
 
 How their magic call'd to birth 
 Virtue, wisdom, science, art! 
 
 Twas the glorious conflict taught 
 
 Every energy to be 
 Taught that truth oh ! cheaply bought 
 
 Men are only men when free. 
 
 Nor blush Granicus more 
 
 At thy twice blood stain'd breast 
 No more the fated day deplore 
 
 That gave the world on Rome's broad lap to rest.
 
 91 
 
 Hence thro' this peaceful scene 
 
 Religion swiftly spread 
 While all on earth appear'd serene 
 
 The soul could listen, and to heav'n be led 
 
 Hence, when in yonder dome the monarch first 
 Sanction'd her rites, and join'd the choral song, 
 
 What raptur'd shouts from circling myriads hurst, 
 
 Who now could boast the Faith their hearts had lov'd so long. 
 
 What so wild e'er rush'd to arms 
 As to Godfrey's standard flew ? 
 
 Offspring of the furious swarms 
 
 That the might of Rome o'erthrew. 
 
 Fierce the battles fell the war 
 
 That from Godfrey's triumphs flow'd- 
 
 Yet let chivalry declare 
 
 Many a bliss her hand bestow'd.
 
 92 
 
 'Twas in her fantastic hour 
 
 Gentler modes the manners grac'd 
 Honour breath' d his magic power 
 
 Knights were true, and dames were chaste 
 
 'Twas her high behest that bade 
 
 Every social joy improve 
 Ranks were form'd, and life displayed 
 
 Female converse, female love. 
 
 Yet still her sons were rude 
 
 Nor letter'd influence felt 
 Each thought was war each dream was blood, 
 
 And every wish the crimson wreath by victory dealt. 
 
 Yon city fell the tide 
 
 Of lore long treasured there 
 Gush'd forth at once, and spread so wide, 
 
 Each cup could lave, each lip the draught could share.
 
 93 
 
 Then, Greece, again thy soul the poets caught, 
 Once more thy sages charm'd in graver tone 
 
 Thy statesmen reason' d, and thy martyrs taught, 
 
 And light and learning rose, and truth unclouded shone.
 
 TRANSLATIONS 
 
 FROM 
 
 THE ARABIC.
 
 97 
 
 THE 
 
 MIRACLES OF BEAUTY, 
 
 FROM MOTANEBBI. 
 
 THRO' midnight glooms my Leila stray 'd, 
 Her ebon locks around her play'd 
 
 So dark they wav'd so black they curl'd, 
 Another night o'erspread the world 
 
 The moon arose and Leila's face 
 
 Resplendent shone with every grace- 
 It gleam'd so fair it beam'd so bright, 
 Another moon illum'd the night. 
 
 o
 
 98 
 
 ON 
 
 AT THE TIME OF A PESTILENCE. 
 
 DEATH and the Doctor to destroy 
 
 Poor mortals have agreed 
 But why need both their cares employ, 
 
 When one can do the deed ?
 
 99 
 
 THE 
 
 CIRCLING FLAGGON. 
 
 'TwAS the flaggon that bent o'er the goblet, you thought, 
 Where the wine so bewitchingly smil'd 
 
 How you err'd? Twas a mother, with tenderness fraught, 
 That lean'd down to suckle her child. 
 
 Twas the flaggon that bent o'er the goblet, you said, 
 
 Whose lustre the moon might admire 
 How you err'd ? Twas a Magi that bow'd down his head 
 
 Devoutly to worship the fire.
 
 100 
 
 UPON 
 
 VISITING A FRIEND. 
 
 YES, I can boast a friend is mine 
 Whom all the virtues grace, 
 
 The dearest of a kindred line, 
 The noblest of our race. 
 
 A scion from his friendship sprung 
 I planted in my breast 
 
 How fondly to the soil it clung 
 Its blooming fruit confest.
 
 101 
 
 
 
 Yet, by Affection's touch inclin'd, 
 
 To Selim when I'd go, 
 My Selim's house I never find, 
 
 My friend I never know 
 
 For when I reach his welcome dome, 
 His kind attentions share, 
 
 I always find that I'm at home, 
 Another self is there.
 
 102 
 
 TO LOVE. 
 
 YES, Tyrant ! all must own thy sway, 
 The rich, the great, thy nod obey, 
 
 To thee the wise submit ; 
 And what are thy resistless arms ? 
 The smiles of beauty virtue's charms 
 
 And elegance, and wit. 
 
 Enchanter fell ! thy magic powers 
 
 Can change each boon that nature showers, 
 
 Can blast each gift benign, 
 And what her bounteous hand bestows. 
 To gild our days, and calm our woes, 
 
 Are pangs and death from thine.
 
 103 
 
 ON DANCING. 
 
 THE breathing gales of music blow 
 To wake the dance's rolling tide 
 
 The circling waves of beauty flow 
 And now they swell, and now subside. 
 
 Ocean of rapture ! when we see 
 
 Thy bending billows round us tost, 
 
 Who would not launch their heart in thee, 
 Yet who could launch and not be lost ?
 
 104 
 
 SONGS, 
 
 IN THE TALE OF 
 
 ZOHEIR AND AMKETTOOM, 
 
 I. 
 
 TO HIS MISTRESS. 
 
 To thee with streaming eyes I go, 
 To thee with burning heart I move 
 
 That Love can kill too well I know, 
 Yet know I cannot cease to love.
 
 105 
 
 II. 
 
 TO THE SULTAN. 
 
 THINK not, while trembling here I stand, 
 Thou seest a guilty wretch appear 
 
 I tremble from oppression's hand, 
 But not from guilt, but not from fear. 
 
 Sure all my sufferings, all my shame 
 Have wash'd my venial fault away, 
 
 If not then seize this feeble frame, 
 And yield the grave its scanty prey. 
 
 Or vengeance doom, or pardon give, 
 I view my fate with equal eye 
 
 Tis not lor life I wish to live 
 Tis not for death I fear to die.
 
 106 
 
 ON THE 
 
 FESTIVAL OF ALNAHAT, 
 
 THE FESTIVAL AT THE TERMINATION OF THE 
 GREAT FAST. 
 
 SEE ! the festal morn, so dear, 
 Led by genial spring, appear ! 
 Time and nature fondly vie 
 Which can yield the purer joy 
 
 Haste, and bid the flaggon's seal, 
 All its treasur'd stores reveal 
 Let the rill, that long has sigh'd, 
 Wed the wine, its blushing bride.
 
 107 
 
 Hark ! the mother camels throng 
 Round the folds to seek their young 
 Fill the goblet fill it up- 
 Life and love are in the cup. 
 
 Mark that gleam that widening streak 
 Tis the dawn begins to break, 
 Tears the shadowy veil from light, 
 And dispels the troops of night. 
 
 In the east the sunbeams glow 
 Now the misty vale they shew 
 Now the winding stream unfold, 
 Flaming bright with liquid gold. 
 
 Now the sun bursts on the skies, 
 Nature's charms resplendent rise 
 See, from tears the clouds have shed, 
 Groves and plains with smiles o'erspread,
 
 108 
 
 Hills and dales their cheeks disclose 
 Crimson'd with the opening rose ! 
 
 Genial cloud ! we owe to thee 
 Every blooming flower we see ; 
 Yet should e'er thy hand refuse 
 Breathing showers, and fostering dews, 
 Deem not that our joys are gone, 
 That they flow from thee alone, 
 Brighter dews, and sweeter showers 
 Fazil's genial bounty pours.
 
 109 
 
 ON THE 
 
 DEATH OF A FRIEND 
 
 WHEN death had snatch'd my friend away, 
 
 1 would not breathe a last adieu, 
 Some dream I hop'd might still display 
 
 The dear departed to my view 
 
 Vain were my hopes, and vain my sighs ; 
 
 How could I dream without repose? 
 And how could slumber seal my eyes, 
 
 When tears forbad their lids to close ?
 
 110 
 
 THE 
 
 CHILD OF SORROW. 
 
 THRO' yonder deep sequester d grove 
 
 I saw a moody maniac rove 
 
 With hurried steps he pacd along, 
 
 And wildly breath' d a plaintive song 
 
 " Sweetly ikon sings 7," said /, " poor youth" - 
 
 " Ha" fierce he cried, " what foe to truth 
 
 " With falsehood's glozing arts shall try 
 
 " To flatter such a wretch as I ? 
 
 " Too well I know how fatal they, 
 
 " Who mean not what they seem to say, 
 
 " Hence then perfidious hence, retire 
 
 " Or dread the CHILD of SORROW'S ire."
 
 in 
 
 i 
 
 With keener glance his eye-balls roll'd 
 His brows with darker tempests scow I'd 
 Yet still I staid //// my wet cheek 
 The pity shewed I could not speak ; 
 'Twas then I saw his rage subside 
 'Twas then with alter d voice, he cried 
 " Yes, traveller, yes, that starting tear 
 " Has told me that thou art sincere 
 " Come if thou wilt but mark me well 
 " Whate'er I ask thee truly tell 
 " Come if thou wilt and welcome stay 
 " To hear the CHILD of SORROW'S lay." 
 
 SONG. 
 
 " Sad I saw the camels laden, 
 
 " Rous'd to march ere blush of morn- 
 " Sad I saw the fairest maiden 
 
 " From my fond embraces torn
 
 " Why the camel's steps excite ye? 
 
 " Ah why bid the lash resound ? 
 " Why in that mad speed delight ye, 
 
 " Bought with many a bleeding wound 
 
 V 
 
 " One last look to gain I darted, 
 " To the litter's cords I clung 
 
 " Vain my force the band departed, 
 " Thro' my hands the tight cords rung. 
 
 " Plung'd in grief, with eye-lids streaming, 
 " To the hillock's verge I flew, 
 
 " As they past me, fondly deeming 
 " I could wave a half adieu. 
 
 " Vain my speed I dimly trac'd her 
 " In the vale's extremest bend, 
 
 " Then I cried in frantic gesture 
 
 " Way-worn beasts, your flight suspend ;
 
 113 
 
 " Cruel youths, a moment spare her, 
 " Let her catch my once-lov'd breath, 
 
 " Think, ah think, each step ye bear her 
 " Gives me agony and death. 
 
 " Why, they answer'd, why that sorrow, 
 
 " Why such causeless grief display ? 
 " Thy lov'd maid will rest to-morrow, 
 
 " Let her move in peace to day 
 
 ( 
 
 " Traveller ! ere the morn I hasted, 
 " Sooth'd by what the flatterers said 
 
 " And she did rest say where rested ? 
 " Child of Woe! on death's cold bed" 
 
 " Yes, on death's cold bed I found her, 
 " All that once was bright and fair 
 
 " Saw the tomb's dank walls surround her- 
 
 " Allah ! let me join her there" 
 
 Q
 
 114 
 
 He ceasd, his looks to heaven 'were cast 
 A faint smile o'er his features past 
 
 'Twas hope, long lost, the beam supplied 
 He breath 'd out Ablets name, and died. 1
 
 ORIGINAL POEMS.
 
 117 
 
 THE 
 
 SALTED CHERRY, 
 
 A TALE. 
 
 TO BE WRITTEN IN MRS. WOOLSTEN CROFT'S 
 RIGHTS OF WOMEN. 
 
 IN days when fairies tript the green 
 And oft were visited and seen 
 
 By many a mortal dame, 
 There hVd a maid no matter where 
 Sprightly and young, and rich and fair, 
 
 And Bertha was her name.
 
 118 
 
 Sure such a prize, where beauty strove, 
 Combin'd with gold, to kindle love, 
 
 Must every bosom fire ! 
 But, strange to tell, no beating breast 
 The force of Bertha's charms confest, 
 
 No suitor e'er came nigh her. 
 
 King Oberon in amazement ponder'd, 
 Ev'n gentle Bertha somewhat wonder' d 
 
 The Muse can ne'er dissemble, 
 Quoth Oberon, " What can this portend ? 
 The world is coming to an end 
 
 My parliament assemble." 
 
 Long time in deep debate they sat, 
 Were free to own it and all that 
 
 Till every lord was gravell'd ; 
 At length the monarch " Here I swear 
 By sweet Titania's amber hair, 
 
 I'll have my doubts unravell'd ;
 
 119 
 
 My kingdom for a horse !" he cried, 
 And soon a butterfly's supplied 
 
 That bears him to her dwelling ; 
 To Bertha's chamber-door he tript 
 And thro' the yawning key-hole slipt 
 
 More quickly than the telling. 
 
 What saw he there ? no silken robes, 
 But quadrants, telescopes, and globes, 
 
 In learn'd confusion pil'd, 
 And pickled toads, and ponderous books, 
 And pot-hooks, diagrams and crooks 
 
 The Elfin monarch smil'd . 
 
 Bertha was in a reverie, 
 An open folio on her knee, 
 
 Her finger on her cheek ; 
 " Ho, ho," quoth Oberon, " I vow 
 The mystery's unravelFd now 
 
 The lady studies Greek."
 
 120 
 
 The king advanc'd, and bowing said, 
 
 " Your eyes are bright, my charming maid, 
 
 But one seems somewhat bloody." 
 " Ah, sire,'* cried Bertha with a sigh, 
 Who can preserve a cloudless eye, 
 
 And stick to midnight study?" 
 
 " Your ringers, too, would sure display 
 Their rosy tips more clear, if they 
 
 From sable stains were freed." 
 " 'Tis only ink, my lord, and know 
 I prize the glorious tints that shew 
 
 I write as well as read." 
 
 " Mistaken maid, the king replied, 
 Why shall the gloomy mists of pride 
 
 Extinguish beauty's beam ? 
 Ah why, why cause the female mind, 
 For every native sweet design'd, 
 
 With learning's weeds to teem !"
 
 " Ha," quoth the fair, " shall learning's name, 
 The zest of life, the wreath of fame, 
 
 By Oberon be debas'd? 
 Know, sire, the Stoics all agree 
 Whate'er is excellent per se 
 
 Can never be misplac'd." 
 
 " Have souls a sex? foe. See. &c. 
 ************ 
 * * ******** 
 
 Here 93 stanzas are omitted. 
 
 She ceas'd ; the king attention lent, 
 Then bow'd a kind of half assent, 
 
 And cried, in kingly guise, 
 " Bright Bertha, sup with us to-night, 
 Titania will be ravish'd quite 
 
 To see a maid so wise." 
 
 R
 
 The evening comes the maid arrives 
 The guests are set the monarch strives 
 
 To please the fair one's palate, 
 With chillimangs * and challimize, f 
 And % sorwn soup and porum pies, 
 
 And karrimany \\ sallet. 
 
 X 
 
 She prais'd each dainty of the fairies, 
 But soon a tempting dish of cherries 
 
 Her wandering fancy struck, 
 She ne'er had seen the fruit before, 
 'Twas but just known on Pontus' shore, 
 
 And stol'n by Robin Puck. 
 
 Vid. Nollarius de Mor. Elfinonim, lib. xiv. 
 t 19- Nee non tristis edulia vet. P. 921. 
 J Zincopius de Peris et Divis, pag. 1311. 
 Strzwarterii Au coquin. Spiritum, lib. 2, pag. 13. 
 || Stanchius de Factis Antiq. Pag. 19, 2, pag. 3. 
 Chinkzinkius de Rebus nori intellictes, pag. 103.
 
 123 
 
 She saw, she tasted, and she lov'd 
 The monarch much her choice approv'd, 
 
 But cried " You eat them wrong" 
 Then o'er the fair one's crowded plate, 
 Bending with aldermanic state, 
 
 A shower of salt he flung. 
 
 Again the crimson fruit she seiz'd 
 But ah ! the fruit no longer pleas 'd, 
 
 Her rising gorge revolted 
 And while she writh'd with sick'ning pain, 
 She cried " Ah curse me not again 
 
 With cherries that are salted' 1 
 
 " Ha," quoth the king, " shall salt's great name, 
 The zest of meat, the gravy's fame, 
 
 By Bertha be debas'd ? 
 Know that the Stoics all agree 
 Whate'er is excellent per se 
 
 Can never be misplac'd."
 
 124 
 
 The blushing fair one heard the hint, 
 Consider'd what the fable meant, 
 
 And guess'd the sense it carried ; 
 To frowns and folios bade adieu, 
 Her lute resum'd, her shuttle threw, 
 
 And in a month was married
 
 125 
 
 HOPUS, TROPUS, AND MOPUS. 
 
 A TALE. 
 
 THREE learned friends, in days of yore, 
 Set out from Granta's sedgy shore 
 
 Upon an expedition : 
 TropuS) the wonder of the bar, 
 Mopus, a theologic star, 
 
 And Hopus^ a physician. 
 
 Each foremost in the path he trac'd, 
 Display'd a brow with chaplets grac'd 
 
 That Glory's* hands had twisted 
 Each glow'd with learning's genial flame, 
 But like all genuine sons of Cam t 
 
 They pedantry detested. 
 
 Statue at the entrance of the Senate-house, Cambridge.
 
 126 
 
 Just as the sinking orb of day 
 Diffus'd his last empurpled ray, 
 
 They reach' d a tangled dell : 
 Twas dark and drear the tempest howl'd, 
 The light 'ning glar'd, the thunder growl'd, 
 
 The rain in torrents fell. 
 
 Fearful and faint, in vain they strove 
 To keep the path, or quit the grove, 
 
 Or shun the welkin's ire 
 At length a cheering light they spied 
 " Hurrah, hurrah /" the parson cried, 
 
 " I see a kitchen fire." 
 
 Knock, knock, knock, knock the opening gate 
 Receiv'd our pilgrims tir'd and wet 
 
 Within its friendly shelter : 
 Fair was the hall, and richly dight 
 Sir Hobbernob, an elfin knight, 
 
 With Gem his lady dwelt there.
 
 127 
 
 To welcome guests of such renown, 
 (For well I wot their fame was known,) 
 
 The knight himself stood ready, 
 Call'd them to light and life again, 
 And made them join the gallant train 
 
 That chatted with my lady. 
 
 Quoth Hob to Tropus, " Can it be 
 When a remainder vests in fee 
 
 But let me put a case 
 A makes a will" quoth Tropus, u Hem"- 
 And turn'd about to lady Gem 
 
 To look at Brussels lace. 
 
 The fairy knight, surpris'd and vext, 
 Resolv'd to speak with Mopus next, 
 
 On fate, free-will, and sin 
 But Mopus stopp'd him with " Til swear 
 That match 'twixt Madcap and the mare 
 
 Was all a mere take-in."
 
 128 
 
 Hopus came last and whilst the knight 
 Look'd for discussion erudite 
 
 On stimulants, or air, 
 He talked of Humphries and the Jew 
 Harangued upon their grand set-too, 
 
 And shew'd that he could spar. 
 
 Awhile the elfin knight was dumb, 
 
 Then whispering round, with visage glum, 
 
 Forth from the room he bounc'd ; 
 But still our travellers, blithe and gay, 
 Displayed their wit and talk'd away, 
 
 Till supper was announc'd. 
 
 They reach 'd the room no tapers' glare 
 The dome illum'd no lustre there 
 
 Its radiant pendants shook 
 Five farthing candles grac'd the hall, 
 UnsnufFd and dim against the wall 
 
 By their own tallow stuck.
 
 129 
 
 In guise uncouth the board was spread 
 A peck of pudding at the head 
 
 A bucket full of fish 
 And chop and cheese, and marrow bone, 
 And fowl and fruit, together thrown, 
 
 Were all upon a dish. 
 
 The taste was worse than what they saw- 
 The pies were burnt, the meat was raw ; 
 
 Filth reign' d in every platter ; 
 The wine was foul, the beer w r as stale, 
 And when the travellers call'd for ale, 
 
 The rascals handed water. 
 
 Hungry and tir'd, in piteous plight 
 Awhile they sat, then begg'd the knight 
 
 That they might go to rest 
 He nodded prompt at his command 
 A portly guide, with torch in hand, 
 
 Attended every guest. 
 s
 
 130 
 
 Thro' lofty halls and vacant rooms 
 Half lost amongst the midnight glooms, 
 
 Our wondering wights were led, 
 And all was silence till a guide 
 Knock 'd at a half shut door and cried 
 
 " Rodolpho / is he dead ?" 
 
 " Not yet" a hollow voice replies 
 
 And sinking groans, and faultering sighs 
 Proclaim'd departing life ; 
 
 It ceas'd, aghast the travellers stood 
 
 They look'd their guides were stain'd with blood- 
 Each bore a crimson'd knife ! 
 
 Onward with tottering feet they past, 
 And reach'd their destin'd room at last 
 
 Their guides unbar' d the door 
 With rueful looks the scene they view'd 
 The grate was cold the chamber rude, 
 
 Unswept the walls and floor ;
 
 131 
 
 The pillows on the hearth were laid, 
 The carpets on the tables spread, 
 
 The beds ev'n made them shudder 
 This wanted sheets, and blankets that 
 The third, in still more wretched state, 
 
 Had neither one nor t'other. 
 
 Their guides withdrew and as they walk'd, 
 In broken hints obscurely talk'd, 
 
 Of" broiling" and of " grilling!" 
 " We shall be murder'd," Tropus cried, 
 " They're only waiting to decide 
 
 The direst mode of killing." 
 
 The wretched wights conversed till morning 
 On poison, steel, impaling, burning 
 
 And wept their hastening doom 
 But when the cock's first note was heard, 
 Their dreadful guides again appear'd 
 
 And cried, " Your hour is come !"
 
 Vain was resistance sad arid slow, 
 With trembling footsteps, on they go 
 
 In melancholy sort 
 A yawning portal stopped their road, 
 But soon the gate unbolting, shew'd 
 
 The castle's ample court. 
 
 There stood their steeds, in strange array, 
 As lifeless and as lank as they, 
 
 Lamenting like disasters 
 Their backs no curry-comb had drest 
 They shew'd they'd got as little rest 
 
 Or supper as their masters. 
 
 Their saddles on their necks were flung, 
 Their bridles at their tails were hung, 
 
 And to the ground descended 
 Two white-rob'd females, spruce and bland, 
 With each a napkin in her hand, 
 
 On every steed attended.
 
 133 
 
 Just as the morn unveil'd the sun 
 The elfin knight exclaim'd " Tis done" 
 
 And sallied from the door 
 " Mercy ! great sir' the travellers cried 
 " 'Tis done 'Tis done' the knight replied 
 
 " I mean the joke is o'er." 
 
 " My servants, you must know, last night 
 (Whatever they intended by't) 
 
 Would needs their places change 
 The grooms would cook, and mind the table, 
 The chambermaids attend the stable, 
 
 The cooks the beds arrange. 
 
 " You might have better far'd and slept 
 Had each their proper station kept 
 
 Without such strange reverses ; 
 The grooms, who drest your meat so ill, 
 I trust had shewn superiour skill 
 
 In dressing up your horses.
 
 134 
 
 " Yon nymphs that thus in masquerade 
 Have deck'd your steeds, your beds had made, 
 
 And cheer'd your grates with firing 
 My cooks had charm'd, not scar'd your heart 
 With bloody hands and terms of art, 
 
 And groans of pigs expiring. 
 
 " Farewell! I'm disappointed too 
 I suffer'd yesterday like you 
 
 We both have been unlucky 
 I hop'd to meet three scholars here, 
 And only found a milliner, 
 
 A bruiser, and a jockey /" 
 
 -
 
 135 
 
 THE REDBREAST. 
 
 i ' . 
 
 WA>RB'LJNG Redbreast, have I found thee 
 
 , 
 
 In thine ivy tree? 
 Let the echoing rocks around thee 
 
 Send those notes to me : 
 Once, I own, with spring delighted, 
 
 When her flow'rs and songs invited, 
 Once, I own, sweet bird, I slighted 
 
 Thy green bush and thee. 
 
 When with wreaths of roses blooming, 
 * Ev'ry bower was hung ; 
 Toward thine ivy unassuming, 
 
 Not a glance was flung : 
 When the thrush, with accents trilling, 
 
 Ev'ry raptur'd sense was filling, 
 Then I bent, with ear unwilling, 
 
 To thine humble song.
 
 136 
 
 Now by wint'ry blasts invaded, 
 
 Rural joys forgot ; 
 Ev'ry nectar 'd flow'r is faded, 
 Mute each tuneful throat : 
 
 But tho* cold and wet and weary, 
 As ye tread yon vallies dreary, 
 Still the ivy's leaf shall cheer ye, 
 Still the Redbreast's note. 
 
 Julia, to yon sweet musician, 
 
 Some few moments lend ; 
 'Tis to thee a warning mission, 
 
 To the strain attend : 
 " Fair one, e'er life's spring be over, 
 
 Whilst admirers round thee hover, 
 Learn to know the flatt'ring lover 
 
 From the faithful friend."
 
 137 
 
 " Age's winter soon advances, 
 
 Blights the fair and young ; 
 Where are then th' impassion'd glances? 
 
 Where the glozing tongue ? 
 Seek some heart sincere, fair maiden, 
 
 There affection blooms unfading, 
 There thou'lt find the ivy shading, 
 
 There the Redbreast's song."
 
 138 
 
 THE 
 
 WITHERED VIOLET. 
 
 As I watch thy blue eye closing, 
 
 Mark thy fading tints decay, 
 View thy head in death reposing, 
 
 Sure, sweet plant, I hear thee say 
 " Cruel Julia found me blooming, 
 
 Peaceful in my native vale, 
 Found my flow'rs the grove perfuming, 
 
 Breathing fragrance on the gale ;
 
 139 
 
 " Ah ! too soon the fair discern'd me 
 
 Glist'ning thro' a dewy tear, 
 Soon she cropt me soon she spurn'd me- 
 
 And now bids me perish here ! 
 Yet no vengeful thought I show'd her 
 
 Pleas'd I pour'd my parting breath 
 To diffuse my sweetest odour 
 
 O'er the hand that brought me death." 
 
 Cruel Julia ! faithless maiden ! 
 
 Yon poor slighted Violet see, 
 See it drooping, withering, fading 
 
 Hear its plaints and think of me. 
 Like yon flow'r, in life's gay morning, 
 
 Once I wav'd my joy-crown'd head, 
 Every genial spring returning 
 
 Fresher wreaths around me shed
 
 140 
 
 Julia smil'd and soon bereft me 
 
 Of those flatt'ring scenes of joy 
 Julia frown'd and faithless left me, 
 
 Like yon flow'r, to droop and die; 
 But like it, tho' pangs so painful, 
 
 Griefs so hopeless I must prove, 
 Still I bless those eyes disdainful, 
 
 Still that scornful heart I love.
 
 141 
 
 A HYMN, 
 
 LORD ! when we bend before thy throne, 
 
 And our confessions pour, 
 Teach us to feel the sins we own, 
 
 And hate what we deplore. 
 
 Our broken spirits, pitying, see, 
 
 And penitence impart 
 Then let a kindling glance from thee 
 
 Beam HOPE upon the heart 
 
 When our responsive tongues essay 
 Their grateful hymns to raise, 
 
 Grant that our souls may join the lay, 
 And mount to Thee in praise.
 
 142 
 
 Then on thy glories while we dwell, 
 Thy mercies we'll review, 
 
 Till LOVE divine transported tell 
 Our God 's our father too. 
 
 When we disclose our wants in prayer, 
 
 May we our wills resign ; 
 And not a thought our bosom share 
 
 That is not wholly Thine ! 
 
 Let FAITH each meek petition fill, 
 
 And waft it to the skies, 
 And teach our hearts 'tis goodness still 
 
 That grants it, or denies.
 
 143 
 
 A PARAPHRASE 
 
 ON 
 
 THE LORD'S PRAYER. 
 
 FATHER of Heaven! whose gracious hand 
 Dispenses good in boundless store, 
 
 May every breath thy praise expand, 
 And every heart thy name adore ! 
 
 Great Lord ! may all our waken'd powers 
 To spread thy sway exulting join, 
 
 Till we shall dare to think Thee our's, 
 And thou shalt deign to make us Thine.
 
 Whate'er thy will, may we display 
 Hearts that submit without a sigh ; 
 
 Whate'er thy law, may we obey, 
 Like raptur'd saints, and feel it joy. 
 
 Vouchsafe us what our wants require, 
 This fleeting life in peace to spend, 
 
 But bid our wishes, Lord, aspire 
 To grasp the life that cannot end. 
 
 Our countless crimes with mercy view, 
 For Jesus' sake their guilt remove, 
 
 And teach us, Lord, to pardon too, 
 That Thou may'st see a world of love. 
 
 Protect us when temptation's near, 
 Keep us from pride and passion free> 
 
 Shield us from sin and sorrow here, 
 And bring us, Lord, at length to Thee.
 
 149 
 
 EPITAPH. 
 
 THY years have flown on rapid wing 
 But, like the flying clouds of spring 
 
 That sweep the teeming earth, 
 They shed o'er THEE a genial power 
 To foster every fragrant flower 
 
 Of wisdom and of worth ; 
 
 Raptur'd we saw each opening day 
 Blossoms of piety display, 
 
 Or germs to genius join ; 
 'Twas ours to drink their perfum'd breath, 
 Gaze on their bloom till lost in death 
 
 Their fruit, BLEST CHILD ! is thine. 
 
 P. F. Dulciss. P. 
 
 Printed by W. Bulmer and Co. 
 Cleveland-Row, St. James's.
 
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