Ex Libris C. K. OGDEN L THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES 9a) A COMPLETE COLLECTION ENGLISH POEMS WHICH HAVE OUTAINED THE CHANCELLOR'S GOLD MEDAL UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE. NEW AND ENLARGED EDITION. YOL. I. (Sambrttige : MAGMILLAN AND CO. AND 23, HENRIETTA STREET, CO VENT GARDEN, LONDON. 1859. CAMBRIDGE: PRINTED l!Y W. METCALFE, TRINITY STREET, CORNER OF QUEEN STREET. ins its'! f is HLogal figfeiuss fjjt |ritttt Consort, Chancellor of % Wnibzxsity of (Hambrioge, $Ijm |oi:ms are, bg permission, most respectfully kbitaijeio. if ADVERTISEMENT. In presenting to the public a complete and thoroughly revised Edition of the Cambridge Prize Poems from 1813 to 1858 inclusive, the publisher has much pleasure in acknowledging the valuable assistance which he has received from many of the Authors, who have corrected and revised their pro- ductions. As these Poems comprise the early efforts of many whose names are now the chief ornaments of the University, and who have since distinguished them- selves in various branches of Literature and Science, they will be read with great interest by those now placed in the position which these illustrious men once occupied, and it is hoped the general excellence of the work as a whole will make it an acceptable souvenir of their alma mater. Cambridge, 1st October, 1858. m CONTENTS. XI Date. 1837. 1838. 1839. 1840. 1841. 1842. 1843. 1844. 1845. 1846. 1847. 1848. 1849. 1850. 1851. Conflagration of Rome. (Not adjudged.) Luther ...... William Spicer Wood, St. John's College. Bannockburn ..... Charles Sangster, St. John's College. Richard the First in Palestine John Charles Conybeare, St. Peter's College. Death of Marquess Camden John Charles Conybeare, St. Peter's College. Birth of the Prince of Wales Henry James Sumner Maine, Pembroke College. Plato ...... William Johnson, King's College. The Tower of London .... Edward Henry Bicker steth, Trinity College, Caubul ...... Edward Henry Bickersteth, Trinity College. Cjesar's Invasion of Britain . Edward Henry Bickersteth, Trinity College. Sir Thomas More Henry Day, Trinity Hall. The Death of Baldur George John Cayley, Trinity College. Titus at Jerusalem Henry Bay, Trinity Hall. The Death of Adelaide Queen Dowager . The Hon. Julian Fane, Trinity College. Gustavus Adolphus William Edensor Littlewood, Pembroke College. Page. 205 211 217 225 233 240 247 254 263 270 277 286 293 301 XII. CONTENTS. Date. 1852. The Arctic Regions . Frederic William Farrar, Trinity College. 1853. Walmer Castle . Herbert John Reynolds, King's College. 1854. The Chinese Empire Herbert John Reynolds, King's College. 1855. The War in the Crimea John Sumner Gibson, Trinity College. 1856. Luther at the Diet op Worms Oswald William Wallace, Emmanuel College. 1857. Slavery. {Not adjudged.) 1858. Delhi ...... Arthur Holmes, St. John's College. Tage. 307 310 324 331 339 346 CHANCELLOR'S ENGLISH MEDALLISTS. His Royal Highness William Frederick, Duke of Gloucester, formerly Chancellor of this University, gave annually a Gold Medal, to be conferred upon a resident Undergraduate, who should compose in English the best Ode or best Poem in Heroic Verse. This prize was given yearly by the late Chancellor, the Marquess Camden, and is continued by His Royal Highness the Prince Consort. The subject is given out by the Vice-Chancellor at the end of the Michaelmas Term. The Exercises must be sent in to him on or before the 31st of March following, and must not exceed two hundred lines. Each candidate is to send his exercise privately, with some motto prefixed ; to be accompanied by a paper sealed up, with the same motto on the outside, which paper is to enclose another, folded up, having the candidate's name and college written within. The papers containing the names of those persons who do not succeed are destroyed unopened. No prize given to any exercise which is written, wholly, or in part (or of which the title, motto, superscription, address, &c, are written), in the hand- writing of the candidate; nor to any one who has not, at the time for sending in the exercises, resided one term at least. Candidates are at liberty to send in their exercise printed or lithographed. On Commence- ment-day the successful candidate recites his Poem in the Senate-House. The Examiners are the same as for the Classical Medals." CONTENTS. Date. 1813. 1814. 1815. 1816. 1817. 1818. Columbus ..... George Waddington, Trinity College. BOADICEA ..... William Wheioell, Trinity College. Wallace ..... Edward Smirke, St. John's College. Mahomet ..... Hamilton Sydney Beresford, Clare College. Jerusalem .... Chauncy Hare Townshend, Trinity Hall. Imperial and Papal Rome Charles Edward Long, Trinity College. Tage. 13 1819. Pompeii ...... Tlwmas Babington Macaulay, Trinity College. 1820. Waterloo .... George Erving Scott, Trinity Hall. 1821. Evening ..... Thomas Babington Macaulay, Trinity College. 23 28 40 50 61 70 78 CONTENTS. Date. 1822. Palmyra ..... John Henry Bright, St. John's College. 1823. Australasia .... Winthrop Mackicorth Praed, Trinity College. 182-1. Athens ..... Winthrop Mackicorth Praed, Trinity College. 1825. Sculpture , . Edward G. Lytton Bulwer, Trinity Hall. 1826. Venice ..... Joseph Sumner Brockhurst, St. John's College. 1827. The Druids .... Christopher Wordsivorth, Trinity College. 1828. Invasion of Russia by Napoleon Buonaparte Christopher Wordsworth, Trinity College. 1829. 1830. 1831. 1832. 1833. 1834. 1835. 1830. TlMBUCTOO .... Alfred Tennyson, Trinity College. Byzantium . William Chapman Kinglake, Trinity College. Attempts to find a North-West Passage George Stovin V enables, Jesus College. Taking of Jerusalem in the First Crusade William Chapmati Kinglake, Trinity College. Delphi ...... Clement Berkley Hue, Trinity College. The Second Triumvirate. {Not adjudged.) Death of H. R. H. Duke of Gloucester , Thomas Whytehead, St. John's College. The Empire of the Sea Thomas Whytehead, St. John's College. Page. 86 98 107 117 129 138 145 154 162 170 177 185 193 199 €€>- iy\y Ml 3^9 GEORGE WADDINGTON, SCHOLAR OP TRINITY COLLEGE. 1813. ARGUMENT. Grenada being taken from the Moors, a Voyage of Discovery is pro- posed to Isabella by the patrons of Columbus, and acceded to. Her feelings and wishes. The great object the propagation of Christianity, — Columbus described. His projects of Discovery first formed, per- haps, in Childhood, encouraged by Hope, and ultimately confirmed by Reason. — He sets sail. Address to the Gales and Sea-gods. His dangers and disappointments. Variation of the needle. Mutiny of his men. Certain signs at length appear, and land is discovered. — The discovery of most importance, as it tends to promote Christianity and Civilization. Natural -wonders of America. Andes and its Vol- canoes. Rivers that rise from it. Forests. Inferiority of the human race. Superiority of Civilization to a state of Nature. American ■women often murder their female infants to save them from Slavery. Civilization -will probably be the consequence of intercourse with the Old World. — Progress of Discovery. Peyrouse, Cooke, Drake, Raleigh, Gama. Return to Columbus. He is sent home in chains; but soon proceeds in his search after a passage to India, and discovers the Continent near the mouth of the Oronoco. — Is shipwrecked on Jamaica, and saves his men from the fury of the Indians by predicting an eclipse. Isabella dies, and Columbus passes the remainder of his life a petitioner at the Court of Ferdinand. — Conclusion. Ye frowning towers, where erst the bright array Of Moorish warriors glanced a fearful day; Ye mosques majestic, where fanatic War Yoked his red steeds to pale Religion's car — Are ye then fall'n, and has your pride confess'd The soul that slumbers in a woman's breast? But yet, methinks, if glory and if power Must fade and vanish, like a summer flower, 2 PRIZE POEMS. If Heaven command, and Fate direct the blow, 'Tis sweet to fall beneath a gen'rous foe. For hark ! I hear the victor Queen proclaim, "Ambition hence, and all the pomp of fame! " Let warlike toils, let furious Discord cease, " And yield her sceptre to the seraph Peace. " Hail, lovely daughter of a rugged sire ! "Chase the dark glooms of "War with vestal-fire; " Fair as when Spring first shows her trembling form, " Or morn comes shiv'ring from the midnight storm. " And say, shall Lusian barks alone explore " Each unknown wave, and number ev'ry shore ? " Hail wealthier climes, and breathe a purer air, "The first to triumph, as the first to dare? " Ye souls, that taught the faithless Moor to yield, " Blaze forth more glorious in an ampler field ; " While to the Indian's wond'ring eyes unfurl'd, " Castilian banners bless the unknown World ; " Exalt his views, Religion's charms display, " And point the passage to eternal day." But who that Hero, from whose manly brow Conspiring virtues dart a heav'nly glow ? Each mild, each nobler grace is pictured there, The heart to feel, and yet the soul to dare : Onward he darts his rapture-speaking gaze, Eyes the blue waves that drink the evening rays, Salutes the blushing skies, and from afar Hails the bright omen of the western star. Him haply slumb'ring by the waves, that roar In hollow murmurs round his native shore, When every nerve was strung to Hope and Joy, And Fancy flutter'd round her fav'rite Boy, Oft fairy visions bless'd, and round his head On lightest wing their sweet delusion spread. Then would he seem to plough the western main, While rocks opposed, and tempests raged in vain ; COLUMBUS. See other skies, and stars unnamed survey, A milder climate, and a brighter day: Then would he start and gaze the concave blue, And half believe the fair deception true ; Bless the pale Moon, that pour'd a purer light, Bless ev'ry orb that gemm'd the vest of night: Then how his heart would boil, his bosom swell, Till at stern Reason's touch the baseless fabric fell. Yet, when the billowy solitude he view'd, Thoughts dimly grand and hopes sublimely rude Full oft would dart across his troubled mind, Would dart, and leave a dubious track behind: " Ye western gales, that float on silken wing, " Whence stole ye, say, the fragrance that ye bring ? " Is there no green-hair'd daughter of the deep, " Around whose shores the wild waves learn to sleep, " Where thro' the livelong year the dancing hours " Fling from their golden urn unfading flowers ? " Yes, not for us alone th' imperial Sun, " Since time began, his giant course has run : " The starry hosts their silvery ranks display, " The Moon's bright crescent sheds a midnight day " On other shores, and Nature's viewless hand " Rolls smoother billows round a happier land." Thus would he hold sweet converse with the gale, That flutter'd idly round his little sail; Nor ceased the young enthusiast's breast to glow, Where Zembla* slumbers in her waste of snow; E'en there could hope his fearless bosom warm, And soothe the horrors of a polar storm. And e'en when manhood's calmer power refined The thoughts that wanton'd in his youthful mind, The fairy landscape at pure Reason's ray Beam'd but more bright, and kindled into day: * Columbus in his youth made some discoveries near Greenland. b2 PRIZE POEMS. For he would wander by the ocean's side From blushing morn to ling'ring eventide, Till the mind promised what the hopes conceived, And sceptic Wisdom wonder'd and believed. Ye Lusitanian shores, ye rocks, that brave The idle threat'nings of th' Atlantic wave, Oft have ye seen him westward dart his eye, While, list'ning to the surge that murmur'd by, AVith straining look he drank the parting light, Till India burst upon his ravish'd sight. Ye Gales, if e'er, when Time was young, ye bore Phoenician* barks around fair Afric's shore, Breathe softly sweet your mildest murmurs now, As when of yore young Ammon's daring prow Rode proudly floating down the stream, that laves Its native gold, and stemm'd the Indian waves. Be still, thou billowy bosom of the deep ; Ye Tempests, fold your dusky wings and sleep: Secure, ye Nymphs, the gallant vessels urge 'Mid rocks that lurk beneath the glassy surge. In mute suspense see gazing thousands stand, Crown every steep, and press the lab'ring strand. But who can trace the feelings, that impart A fearful joy, and swell the throbbing heart? Where dwells despair, or ardour's generous fire, What fears discourage, or what hopes inspire ? Yes! when the vessels lessen on the view, Perchance some parent weeps a last adieu ; Then burns with shame, and clears his glist'ning eye, His pride enforcing what his hopes deny. E'en now, methinks, the daring barks explore, Where Fancy's eye had never pierced before : Why start ye, Nereids, from your coral caves, Fly with unsandal'd foot, and skim the waves? • See Herodotus, book iv. 42. COLUMBUS. Why flit ye, Spirits, on the dusky air, While sighs the gale, and distant meteors glare ? Hide, sullen Genius, hide that giant form, That yokes the winds, and riots on the storm ; Avenge not now thy violated reign, Thy shatter'd sceptre and thy broken chain ; For if thou lov'st to drink the parting breath, And glut thee with the bursting sighs of death, Enough of victims shall thy arms enfold, While breezes waft, while oceans lead to gold. Where never eagle wooed meridian light, Where never sea-bird wing'd its wildest flight, The gallant vessels steer'd their lonely way; A world of waters glimmer'd to the day; A world of waters fading on the view Caught the last tints that purple Evening threw. But ah! how oft did Hope's deluded eye Hail ev'ry distant cloud that fringed the sky Beneath the pale Moon's visionary gleam, Till morn invidious chased the joyous dream. But fearless still they stem th' unfathom'd plains, One guide still aids them, and one friend remains, True as the wondrous sign, whose cloudy blaze Darken'd or glow'd on Israel's thankless gaze. Mysterious Magnet! e'er thy use was known, Fear clad the deep in horrors not its own ; But when thy trembling point vouchsafed to guide, Astonish'd nations rush'd into the tide, While o'er the rocky wave and billowy wild * Young Commerce plumed his eagle-wing and smiled. Mysterious Magnet! while the tempests lower, Dost thou' too leave them at the fearful hour? Hoes Heaven's protecting hand desert the brave, No hope to cheer them, and no power to save ? Well may Sedition, daughter of Despair, Point to the boundless waste, the starless air, PRIZE POEMS. The fancied shapes that float upon the wind, And claim the vales that blossom far behind. But when the Spectre rear'd her baleful form, More hideous than the fiend that rides the storm, Say, did the Hero from her clamours fly, Or shrink beneath the terror of her eye? Ah no! I see the quick indignant glow Flush his dark cheek and glisten on his brow: One glance from him can light a kindred flame, And awe the rebel spirit into shame. But now no tempests rage — a gentle gale Sighs thro' the shrouds and lingers round the sail. The evening clouds, that hover o'er the west, Glow with a softer tinge, a lovelier vest; The bird in silence wings his way to greet The shady vallies of his native seat. Hesper leans list'ning from his throne on high To floating strains of heav'nly harmony; Then all is dark, and all is still again, And Night sits brooding o'er the silent main, "Is it a fire* that glimmers from afar?" ! Tis but some lonely, melancholy star; Or meteor, that descends to drink the wave; Or gem, that lights the Sea-fiends to their cave. " It moves— again it moves— and on the sand " Sheds its glad beam :— it must— it must be Laud!" How sweet to sad misfortune's way-worn child "Wanders the streamlet thro' the trackless wild! How sweet, escaped the horrors of the storm, The trembling Moon unveils her virgin form! But oh! how far more sweet that sacred light Beam'd life and glory on Columbus' sight. Emblem of Faith, and all the joys that glow From chaste lteligion's lamp on men below, • Columbus himself discovered a light on shore, which lie immediately -..luted as an emblem of the religious lighl he WflS going to spread. COLUMBUS. I hail thee too ! and may the holy blaze, That hides from half mankind its clouded rays, Pour its full flood (as Truth proclaims it must, Ere the wide world be crumbled into dust) On every clime, and beaming from above Unveil the glory of eternal love. Ye lonely shades, where famish'd Indians stray, Ye too shall blush beneath the lamp of day! Ye mountains, haply on your snow-clad brow Wild flowers shail wake to life, and fruitage blow ; The streams that roll their nameless waves along, Unknown to fame, and unadorn'd by song, Shall start, to view triumphant navies ride, And spires reflected from their glassy tide. Whither does Fancy wing her rapt'rous flight? " Visions of wonder, spare my aching sight !" See where proud Andes rears his giant form, And smiles serenely towering o'er the storm; While round his breast innocuous lightnings play, And thunders roll in distant peals away. But when he bids his native tempests rave, He shrouds his brow, he bursts each secret cave, And, wrapt in clouds from his volcano throne, Pours floods of flame and lightnings all his own ; Till when he sees his craggy summits hurl'd Afar, and feels the rocking of the world, He veils his nodding crest in deeper shade, And trembles at the storm himself has made. Yet, tho' he crown his starry head with fire, A thousand rivers hail him for their sire, And rolling onward wake the sweets that sleep 'Mid fragrant wilds, and bear them to the deep; Or haply wand'ring thro' some trackless grove, Where the lone Indian ne'er had dared to rove, The green banana's od'rous leaf they lave, That leans and listens to the babbling wave ; 8 l'KIZE POEMS. Till lost in lovelier shade they fear the day, And in melodious murmurs die away. But tell me, Nature, when thy mighty hand Form'd in a nobler mould this new*born land, With bold design a prouder work began, Why in such giant regions dwindles Man? For mark the feeble limb, the vacant look, The listless form, that slumbers by the brook, And, when the summer's careless hour is past, Shrinks faint and houseless from the wintry blast; "While the proud mind's degraded treasures sleep, Like a gem twinkling to the reckless deep. O ye, who ven'rate Nature's artless child, And love man best when rugged and when wild, If such primeval freedom's barb'rous train, Hail we the friendly hand that forged our chain ! Stoop, Briton, stoop to bless thy Roman lord, And reverence Cardoc's* less than Caesar's sword. Oft has the mother by some foaming tide Clasp'd her pale daughter's infant form and sigh'd— " Shalt thou too linger thro' the joyless day " A wretch — a slave— and weep the night away ? "Endure a tyrant's scorn — a tyrant's blow — "With but one gloomy hope to soothe thy woe? " Come, let us snatch that hope and dare to die !" She spoke and smiled in speechless agony; Then headlong rush'd into the pitying wave — " Roll on, ye streams, and waft us to the grave !" What art thou, Man, without the ties that bind Congenial souls, and harmonize the mind? Without the hopes that thrill, the fears that move, The strings that vibrate to the voice of love? Without the tear that gems Compassion's eye? — A dark cloud driv'n across the midnight sky. • Cardoc was the Caractacus of the Homans, as we learn from Welch • ; ndition. COLUMBUS. Yet thou, degraded Savage, thou shalt bless The tender bond of social happiness; Shalt rise to prouder thoughts, shalt learn to scan Thy native worth, and feel thyself a man ; Then to Religion's self shall smile, and fling ^Ethereal love, like dew-drops, from her wing. Why sing ye, Muses, round Bellona's car, Responsive only to the shouts of war? Shall harps like your's discordant rage inspire, Shall death be echoed from a virgin lyre? Tell me, ye surges, on what desert shore Peyrouse lies whitening as the tempests roar; Unless, perchance, each toil and danger braved, Some Nereid loved him, or some Triton saved, While now his influence wand'ring unconfined Or soothes the troubled deep, or lulls the wind. Or shall we sing lamented Cook, and tell How sigh the wild waves where a Briton fell? O'er paths untried the gen'rous sailor roved, And died a martyr to the cause he loved. But see, another son of Albion* rise ! Fame speeds his course, and sparkles in his eyes: Start into light from ocean's breast, ye isles, Breathe all your sweets, and lavish all your smiles! Hail him, ye stars, that see his flag unfurl'd; Roll on thou Sun, and guide him round the world; 'Tis done — I see the laurell'd hero stand A new Columbus on a worthier land. Here wond'ring nations tell of Raleigh's fame, And oceans wake their echoes to his name; And there, while Gama ploughs the awe-struck main, The Spiritf waves his misty arms in vain. But while the Muse's eye with eager gaze Of brilliant forms the length'ning train surveys, • Sir F. Drake. + See Camocns' Description of the Spirit of the Cape. PRIZE POEMS. Wearied on him it rests, who first began Proud Glory's march and triumph'd in the van. But see, pale Av'rice pours her blasting breath — The march of glory* is the march of death ! But not at him, ye fiends of vengeance, aim Your poison'd weapons and your shafts of flame, For he was dress'd in Mercy's sweetest smiles, Soft as the breeze that flutters round your isles. Is his that form, is his that steady eye Raised to the heav'ns in conscious dignity? See now he burns with pride, and clasps his chain, Now chides his rebel heart that swells again: " Are these the gifts that crown life's parting day, " These the rewards that grateful princes pay ? " Then hail, ye chains, since such my glorious doom, " Adorn my life, and slumber in my tomb ! f " Roll on, ye waves, — ye gales, go murmuring by, " Ye must not — shall not — hear Columbus sigh !" Ev'n then could Honour's magic voice control The mighty storm that struggled in his soul, Could chase each thought of private wrongs away, Like clouds that fly before the car of day. Again, great Chief, I see thy sails unfurl'd, Where Oronoco heaves his wat'ry world, Mocks the degen'rate streams round us that flow, Our swelling Danube, and our fabled Po; Wrapt in sublimer thoughts I see thee stand, And hail thee offspring of a mightier land.J Snatch while thou may'st, a momentary joy! Far other dreams thy shipwreck'd hours employ. • I hero allude only to the cruelties committed by the contemporaries and companions of Columbus, which served, however, as a prelude to the n.itic massacres which succeeded them. + See Robertson's History of America. Book II. J I mean the Continent; he had as yet only discovered Islands. COLUMBUS. Where proud Jamaica rising o'er the main Views from her rocky throne the azure plain, Thy hapless crew each barb'rous outrage dare, And vent on friends the fury of despair'; Through peaceful vales ungrateful flames arise, And the wild death-shrieks pierce the angry skies ; Till rage can fire the Indian's languid heart, Nerve his weak arm, and point th' avenging dart. 'Twas night, and on sethereal coursers driv'n, The pale Moon wander' d through the vault of heav'n; Queen of the stars, that shrunk beneath her eye, She rode sublime in cloudless majesty. Sudden o'ercast her pure resplendent ray, Veil'd in portentous gloom she fades aw.ay. The chief, whose piercing eye alike could scan The laws of nature and the mind of man, Had told how Night's offended power would frown, And shroud the heav'ns in horrors not their own, And feign'd, perchance, that viewless lightnings play'd, And vengeance slumber'd in the mystic shade ! The Indian dropp'd his spear, and own'd his lord, And while he hated, trembled and adored. Yet see! again he ploughs his wat'ry way, Escaped the wilds and man more wild than they; But still no joys shall crown thy weary head, Woes press on woes, and Hope herself has fled. Fame's short career and life's ambition o'er, Thy Queen, thy Friend, thy Guardian is no more. Set is that orb, whose radiance pour'd relief On ev'ry toil, and soften'd ev'ry grief. Yes, and thy waning star must shortly fade, Shorn of its beams, and sink into the shade; As, following still the Sun's departed light, Pale Hesper trembles on the verge of night. And must that ardent soul, that manly form, Child of the rocks and nursling of the storm, 12 PRIZE POEMS. Bow to a toy, and cringe before a crown, And kneel and tremble at a tyrant's frown? Shrinks that proud heart before a purple vest, While courtiers scoff, and tinsell'd nobles jest? Far be the thought; the weak, th' ignoble crew May wound thy gen'rous soul, but not subdue : And when thou sink'st, thy latest light is shed To gild the clouds that blacken round thy head ;* As when some meteor-flash, or lonely star Beams thro' the tempest's opening breast afar, It does but mock surrounding gloom, and shew Dread Night the horrors brooding on her brow. But not like meteor-flash, or shot star's ray, Thy praise, illustrious Chief, shall pass away; Still shall it mount on bolder wing sublime, And draw new vigour from the shafts of Time. What, tho' Columbia bear another's name, Snatch'd as he has the shadow of thy fame — Still let him dress'd in borrow'd splendour shine, Since glory's bright reality is thine. And when in happier days one chain shall bind, One pliant fetter shall unite mankind ; When war, when slavery's iron days are o'er, When discords cease, and av'rice is no more, And with one voice remotest lands conspire To hail our pure Religion's seraph fire; Then Fame, attendant on the march of Time, Fed by the incense of each favour'd clime, Shall bless the Man, whose heav'n-directed soul Form'd the vast chain which binds the mighty whole. * Columbus continued till death eager to extend his discoveries, and by so doing to promote the glory of his persecutors. M) ( 13 ) I8€>MM€1& 5 WILLIAM WHEWELL, OP TRINITY COLLEGE. 1814. Tyrant of earth! whose banner wide unfurl'd Waved o'er the ruins of a conquer'd world; O Rome, beneath yon heav'n what region lies, But calls on thee the vengeance of the skies? What favour'd shore where ne'er thy legions dread Have crush'd the flowers of Peace with iron tread? But now — an outcast band, a robber horde, And now — of half the globe the scourge and lord. Ausonia's plains beneath thy bondage groan, And Carthage sinks, and leaves her place unknown ; E'en fair Athena sees her sacred fane Shrink at thy touch, and mourns her segis vain: For thee the East her sparkling treasures spreads, For thee her mountains lift their spicy heads; Ungorged with all the teeming Orient yields Thou ask'st the North her bleak and barren fields; Indignant Ister rolls his subject flood, And feels his eddies warm with native blood; Albion looks forth from all her cliffs — thy oars Bear war and bloodshed to her peaceful shores, Impatient still while Peace and Freedom own One single spot beneath the starry zone. And thinks thy soul, elate with conquest's glow, Thy widening reign no bounds on earth shall know? PRIZE POEMS. Think'st thou the Deluge of thy power shall spread Till not one islet shows its verdant head; Till, like the dove the olive-branch that bore, Fair Peace shall seek in vain a friendly shore, And banish'd Liberty on soaring wing Back to her native skies indignant spring — ? Vain thought! beyond thy empire's sweeping bound Shall Freedom find some hallow'd spot of ground; Driven from the climes Avhere fervid summer glows, She seeks the northern wastes and polar snows; There, though the bleak blasts rend th' inclement sky, Shall Nature smile beneath her cheering eye, Unfading there her blooms and flow'rs remain Till thy vast empire shrinks to nought again. What though thou deem that thine is Albion's shore, Her day of freedom gone, her battles o'er; Deem thou may'st smiling hear around thee rise Her groans of anguish, her accusing cries, And see her Queen in widow'd sorrow stand lied from thy scourge, and bleeding from thy hand, Destined in vain her country's wrongs to mourn, Slave to thy slave, insulted and forlorn ; Perhaps e'en yet her patriot arm may stay Thy mad Ambition on his crimson'd way. E'en now — while 'mid the calm that slumbers wide, Thou view'st the prospect round in swelling pride, Inhal'st each breeze, and think'st for thee they bear Their ripening fragrance through the balmy air; — E'en now the coming tempest loads the gales, Waves through the woods, and breathes along the vales; It comes — it comes — I hear the boding sound That calls the spirits of the storm around, O'er all the sky their sahle wings they spread, And point the bolts of Vengeance at thy head. Ye Powers that guard your Albion's rude domains, Her trackless wilds and grey-extending plains, JnSu BOADICEA. Untrod since Nature's hand in ruin hurl'd The bands of rock that chain'd her to the world ; Whom the rapt Druid sees in terrors rove 'Mid the deep silence of his gloomy grove, Or where your temples vaulted by the skies, A frowning band of giant columns rise; And ye who haunt the shores where Mona rides Securely moor'd amid the rocking tides, Bend from your cloudy car. If e'er your force Check'd Julius' steps, and stay'd his victor course; If urged by you Caractacus's car Swept down Salurian steeps the torrent war; If fired by you his captive eye could roll Its freeborn glance and awe a despot's soul ; Now bid each arm in injured freedom strong, Avenge a Country's woes, a Monarch's wrong. Lo ! through the surge the Roman chargers bound That girds your sacred Mona's woods around; In vain your hoary Druids on the shore, Their torches toss and imprecations pour; In vain your fearless tribes, a faithful band, Before your shrines unyielding fall or stand: The victors stride above the ranks of dead, Your hallow'd vistas shrink before their tread; Fall'n are your sacred groves where silence reign'd, Your altars ruin'd and your shrines profaned, Your priests, their silver hair with gore defiled, Lie on the strand in ghastly carnage piled; And lie they unrevenged? with impious hand, Shall Rome deal woes around the groaning land, And shall no power that guards the injured good Look from yon azure skies, and mark her deeds of blood ? Yes, they have mark'd ; and speak in* portents dread The wrath that trembles o'er th' oppressor's head. * Tacitus, An. XIV. 32. Dio. Cass, LXII. 1. PKIZE POEMS. Push'd from its base his idol Victory falls, Unbodied furies howl along the walls, Empurpled Ocean glows with slaughter dyed, And hoary Thames beneath his glassy tide, Unseen before, his shadowy towers displays, And wrecks of palaces of former days; As if some nation once that rose sublime, Once proud like Rome, and deep like her in crime, Would lift its head and break its long repose To warn the tyrant of impending woes. O sinking Albion, yet again arise, Rear thy fair front, and lift thy gladden'd eyes; Feel all a mother's joy thy sons to see Grasp the red blade for freedom and for thee. Pour'd from the pathless glen, the forest's gloom, Fierce as their native bands of wolves they come; Dark-frowning chiefs, and shaggy forms appear, Burning for blood, and shake the thirsty spear While 'mid the throng, like whiten'd foam that laves The restless ocean's darkly-rolling waves, The hoary Bards and white-robed Druids fling The song of battle from the trembling string. But why above the throng observant strains Each eager gaze o'er all the crowded plains? 'Tis she! — above the countless thousands seen Lifts her exalted form, the Warrior-Queen: Her lofty forehead mark'd with high command, And stamp'd with majesty by Nature's hand; Indignant Freedom glows upon her cheeks, But on her front no milder passion speaks, Severe and stern;— not her's the gentler grace, The melting eye, the fascinating face, The charms that o'er each speaking feature rove, And fix the gaze, and steal the soul to love; No— would'st thou view fair Woman's softer mould? .L Then by her side those sister forms behold ; BOADICEA. 17 Bright o'er the wavy crowd as western beams That gild with trembling light pleased Ocean's streams. Oh ! though each bosom there, each untaught mind, By social arts untutor'd, unrefined, Knew but the feelings Nature gives her child, Rude as her savage scenes, and harsh, and wild, Yet think not there might Beauty shed her rays Unmark'd, unfelt, by every careless gaze. No — as each Briton's eye was thither turn'd, Each swelling breast with keener vengeance burn'd, Each firmer grasp'd his spear, and inly swore To write their injuries in Roman gore. O Beauty ! heaven-born Queen ! thy snowy hands Hold the round earth in viewless magic bands; From burning climes where riper graces flame To shores where cliffs of ice resound thy name, From savage times ere social life began To fairer days of polish'd, soften'd man, To thee, from age to age, from pole to pole, All pay the unclaim'd homage of the soul. Though not, Bonduca, thine the dove-like eye That asks, Omnipotent, for sympathy, Yet to that stately form, that regal brow Might free-born Pride, and fearless Valour bow. All hail, thy Albion's much-loved Queen, to thee, Daughter of Monarchs ! Monarch of the free ! Heiress of Kings whose patriarchal sway Th' untamed Icenian triumphs to obey ! Oft have thy Britons seen a female hand Pour life and gladness round a grateful land, Oft have they seen a woman's prowess guide The storm of war and stem the battle's tide; E'en now they feel thy words, thy looks impart Indignant courage to each freeborn heart, And bid thee lead them on where Freedom cries, And Vengeance beckons from the angry skies. c L8 PRIZE P01 . Heard'st thou, O Rome, that shout, whose deepen'd shock Shook to its base the isle's eternal rock? Thy steel-clad watchman from his turret high, Has heard it burst the lurid eastern sky, As when the tempest which th' horizon shrouds Rolls in the centre of his gather'd clouds, And up the concave from the south afar The distant Thunder drives his rapid car ; And as las fiery steeds impetuous come, And glance with ruddy track across the gloom, So, red with blood and Desolation's stains, The path of Ruin sweeps across thy plains.. Haste, Roman, haste! lo, bending to its fall, Destruction trembles o'er Augusta's wall, Thy rising cities wildly shriek dismny'd, And ask thy guardian hand, thy parent aid; Go — bid the surge of insurrection bide In midway course, and backwards roll its tide; No — bid thy angry Adria's waves obey Thy eluding voice, and call their storms away; l'ush backwards up thy red Vesuvius' steep The lava torrent pouring to the deep ; Alike thy might is vain; 'tis thine to fear, Imperious despot! thine to tremble here. Woe to thy towns! amid their shrieking walls Quick in the work of death the falchion falls; Exulting there Destruction's demons rise, And on the steaming carnage mount the skies; And nodding ruins in a lake ol blood Mark the sad place where peopled cities stood. Speak not of mercy; — of the kindly glow ' warms the heart to spare a fallen foe. \\ ould'st thou to pity soothe with suasive tongue I.'" raging lioness who seeks her young, And bid her, if her course the spoiler meet, Fawn at his knees, and harmless kiss his feet ? BOADICEA. Frenzied with wrongs they seek revenge alone, Mercy to beg or give alike unknown. But ah ! not yet 'tis theirs to view the foe Crush'd at their feet, and laid for ever low ; Though droops his eagle crest and ruffled plumes, Still stern revenge his fiery eye illumes; Driven from his quarry, watchful yet he sails, And wheels in distant circles on the gales, And nearer sweeping still in balanced flight, Prepares to stoop with renovated might. Heard ye the clang of mingling armies there, Mix'd with the groans of Anguish and Despair, And all the piercing sounds of battle roar Loud as the deep that yawns on Norway's shore When o'er the Ocean's voice of thunder rise The shrieking vessel's agonizing cries. Lo! chiefs sublime amid the storm of death Buffet the raging surge that roars beneath, And through the mangled files the scythe-arm'd car Tears its red path across the opening war, And naked bosoms bared to danger feel The mailed legion's points of gleaming steel: Ah, mourn not, warriors, for the life ye leave, Grieve for your Albion, for your country grieve; For lo! the whirlwind blast of battle veers, And backwards bends that grove of patriot spears, And louder swell above the mingled cry The Roman's pealing shouts of Victory. In vain above the shatter'd throng is seen, With terror-darting eye the Warrior-Queen, While wet with blood her long bright tresses toss'd Float like a standard o'er the rallying host; In vain the conquering legions pause and stand In mid career, check'd by a woman's hand: Borne down the cataract that sweeps the ground O'er falling ranks her fiery coursers bound, c:2 20 PRIZE POEMS. Fling from their rapid wheels the crimson spray As Death and Fate in vain might stop their way, And like some meteor red that shoots afar, Across the gloom of elemental war, Deep purpled o'er from head to heel with blood They dart and vanish in yon blacken'd wood. Unheard thy seraph notes, O Pity, rise Where War's stern clamour raves along the skies; In vain would sex, would youth demand thy aid To stay the Victor's slaughter-blunted blade. "With tiger port along the carnaged ground, Glad triumph stalks, and rolls his eyes around; And Freedom lingering ere she onward sweeps To Caledonia's wilds and rugged steeps Sheds o'er her sons and daughters there who fell A mournful tear, and breathes a sad farewell. But deep within that wood, where branches throw A vaulted, monumental gloom below, So still that all the battle's distant scream The tumult of another world might seem, Lo ! where its leafless arms yon blasted tree "Waves o'er the form of fallen Majesty. Grasp'd in her hand that empty chalice tells, Why on her forehead death's damp dullness dwells, "Why at her feet her children pale are seen, Lovely in death with marble looks serene. It seems as on her brow the changeful strife "Would soon for ever close of Death and Life ; It seems as Life but linger'd there to cast One mother's look before she look'd her last. And near a Druid's sacred brow is rear'd, White on his harp is toss'd his silver beard, "While sad and wild amid the waving trees The death-song floats upon the sighing breeze, And seems in tones of sadden'd praise to shed A grateful influence round her dying head. I30ADICEA. 21 Though o'er the strings his hands have ceased to stray, And left the plaintive notes to die away, They melt as if some spirit of the air With notes of triumph loved to linger there. Well may the Druid mark that vivid glow, That lightning glance which fires her pallid brow ; As if those sounds that breathed around had cast On life's warm embers one reviving blast; As if those floating notes on wings sublime Had borne her soul across th' abyss of time : While her fix'd gaze in air appears to spy Unearthly forms conceal'd from mortal eye, And her pale lip triumphant smiles at death, In accents wild she pours her parting breath : " — Yes, Roman ! proudly shake thy crested brow, 'Tis thine to conquer, thine to triumph now; For thee, lo, Victory lifts her gory hand, And calls the Fiends of Terror on the land, And flaps, as tiptoe on thy helm she springs, Dripping with British blood her eagle wings. "Yet think not, think not long to thee 'tis giv'n To laugh at Justice, and to mock at Heav'n; Soon shall thy head with blood-stain'd laurels crown'd Stoop at the feet of Vengeance to the ground. I see amid the gloom of future days Thy turrets totter, and thy temples blaze; I see upon thy shrinking Latium hurl'd The countless millions of the northern world ; I see, like vultures gathering to their prey, The shades of states that fell beneath thy sway; They leave their fallen palaces and fanes, Their grass-grown streets, and ruin-scatter'd plains, Where lonely long they viewless loved to dwell, And mourn the scenes that once they loved so well. Triumphant, lo ! on all the winds they come, And clap th' exulting hand o'er fallen Rome, . •_>•_' PRIZE POEMS. And hovering o'er thy domes that blazing glow, Their waving pinions fan the flames below; They view rejoiced the conflagration's gleams, Shoot their long glare o'er Tiber's redden'd streams; And snuff the carnage-tainted smokes that rise, An incense sweet, a grateful sacrifice. — " Sad Tiber's banks Avith broken columns spread ! Fall'n every fane that rear'd to heav'n its head! Poor heaps of ashes! Grandeur's mould'ring tomb! Art thou the place was once Eternal Rome ? "Yes, Itoman; snatch thy triumph whilst thou may, Weak is thy rage, and brief thy little day: Vanish'd and past the momentary storm, Albion, my Albion, brighter shews her form. Far o'er the rolling years of gloom I spy Her oak-crown'd forehead lifted to the sky, Above the low-hung mists unclouded seen, Amid the wreck of nations still serene ; She bursts the chains, when hands like thine would bind The groaning world, and lord it o'er mankind. Amid yon glitt'ring flood of liquid light, Float regal forms before my dazzled sight; Like stars along the milky zone that blaze, Their sceptred hands and gold-bound fronts they raise: My Sons!— my Daughters! faint, alas, and dim Before these failing eyes your glories swim, Mix'd with the mists^ of death. 'Tis yours to throw Your radiance round, while happier ages flow; I smile at storms of earthly woe, and rise, Shades of my sires ! to your serener skits." ( 23 ) rol C? R 5? f r A, /fO "ftp ^i.yiy^\yi2!)9 E D W A R D SMI R K E . of st. John's college. 1815. " Manus Iiebo inimica tyrannis " Ensc petit i)lacidain sub libertate quictam." On Gambia's banks, no sweetly-bi'eathing gale Cheers the lone wild or fans the thirsty vale, In weary silence rolls each livelong day, And nature pants beneath the sultry ray: Yet will the negro, from his deserts torn And far away to western climates borne, O'er the wide ocean cast a wistful eye, And think upon his native sands, and sigh. Turn we to where the Northern tempest roars, To Lapland's drear, inhospitable shores; The breast of Lapland owns no genial glow, Pale is her aspect and her mantle snow ; By Winter withered, shrouded by the storm, Amid yon arctic rocks she lifts her form, While ocean-blasts a deadly chillness shed, And meteor phantoms hover round her head : — And would you lure the peasant from his home, Beneath a milder, kinder heaven to roam P Vain were the task — his ev'ry thought and care Still loves to linger in his native air ; The child of woe, by cold and want opprest, He boasts a patriot passion in her breast, And, happy tenant of a humble shed, Smiles at the storm that howls above his head. 24 PRIZE POEMS. Spirit of generous Pride, whose high command Binds all affection to one spot of land; Thou that canst wake a breeze on Afric's shore, And bid the Polar blast forget to roar; "When, wrapt in History's page, the eye surveys Deeds of the mighty dead in ancient days, Is there a tongue that honours not thy name? A heart that burns not with thy kindling flame? Whether in classic record it retrace Th' expiring efforts of a sinking race, And mark the morn — morn dear to Rome and thee, When Brutus struck and saw his country free; Or whether later times the tale disclose, How Grisler triumph'd in a nation's woes, Till vengeance bade insulted worth rebel, And Freedom smiled upon the sword of Tell ; Or how, unawed amid a cheerless land, Brave Wallace rear'd on high the patriot brand. Wallace, undaunted foe to lawless power, Friend to thy Scotland in her darkest hour, In action daring, and in danger proved, Famed for thy valour, for thy virtues loved; These were the crimes that olaim'd a tyrant's hate, And gave thy manhood to an early fate. Thee, Wallace, thee thy native woodlands mourn'd, The grots and echoing caves that moan return 'd; The frowning cliff, the torrent, vale, and glade, Poured a sad tribute to thy pensive shade, And ev'ry gale that blew from rock and sea, And every zephyr bore a sigh for thee. The shout of war, that waked a Southern host, A\ as heard no more upon the sullen coast ; In murmurs floating on the banks of Clyde,* The last, sweet music of thy bugle died; • Wallace wu betrayed into the bands at Edward in the neighbour- hoed of i il.i-iruu . WALLACE. 25 That beacon blaze, which patriot hands had fired, Glimmer'd a parting radiance and expired; Hush'd was each hope, the dream of gladness fled, And Scotland languished, when her offspring bled. Heard ye that war-note burst the deep repose ? — It was the knell of Caledonia's woes; O saw ye not the banner streaming red ? That banner waves above a tyrant's head. Proud with the spoils of Cambria's fallen state, And reeking from the brave Llewellyn's fate, Edward has summon'd all his warrior band To pour the tide of battle on the land. Insatiate king, when erst on Holy shore Thy battle-blade was drenched in Paynim gore, Full oft the laurel bloom'd upon thy brow — And seek'st thou yet another garland now ? Lord of a mighty race, a wide domain, Yet canst thou envy Scotland's rugged reign ? O sheathe thy sword and fling thy buckler by, Nor smite the mountain haunts of Liberty! — But vain is reason's voice, and weak her sway, When thirst of endless empire leads the way, And wild Ambition beckons and invites To trample on mankind's insulted rights ; To stand with gory lance and flag unfurl'd, High o'er the ruins of a prostrate world; Then fair Religion seeks her inmost cell, Indignant Justice bids a long farewell, And Science breathes a last, a dying moan, And sorrowing Virtue pines unpitied and unknown. Cursed be the fatal day, when Edward came In crested pride to urge a lawless claim; Cursed be the day Let weeping History tell How fought the brave and how the noble fell, When, slowly swelling, roll'd the battle tide On Falkirk's field of death and Carron's side — I'RIZE POEMS. The beam of morn, that rose on eastern height, Danced on the plume of many a gallant knight; The ray, that lingered on the ocean-wave, Kiss'd the red turf of many a soldier's grave : Dark as the torrent's desolating flow, And drear as winter was that time of woe. Yet droop'd not Hope ; she turn'd her azure eyes Where heavenward Caledonia's mountains rise, And deep embosom'd in the gloom of night, A star was seen to shed a lonely light; It burn'd afar with lustre pale and sweet, To mark the spot of Freedom's last retreat. There on a rock, unmoved and undismay'd, The sable plumage waving o'er his head, Stern "Wallace stood. With high uplifted hand He shook the gleamy terrors of his brand, Glanced proudly on th' embattled host below, And mock'd the menace of a conquering foe — And long had mock'd — but Heaven untimely frown'd, And pluck'd the fairest rlow'r on Scottish ground. It was no falchion raised in mortal strife That snatch'd thee, Wallace, from the light of life ; No arrow glided on the wings of death To drink thy blood and steal away thy breath ; Thine were no honours of a glorious grave, The patriot's boast, the birthright of the brave; For other fate thy generous zeal repaid, Tom from thy country, by thy friend betray'd Methinka I see thee led in sullen state, High in thy fall, and e'en in fetters great, And view thee dragg'd in all the pomp of woe, port of impotence, a public show. Still conscious virtue cheers thy latest hour, Nor sinks thy spirit in the grasp of power; Still, in the pangs of death, thy closing eyes Speak the proud thoughts that in thy bosom rise; WALLACE. And the last sigh, that gave the soul release. Breath'd to thy Scotland — liberty and peace. O Wallace ! if my voice can pierce the gloom, And rouse the silent slumbers of the tomb, O'er thy cold dust the Muse shall pour her strain To tell thee, that thou didst not fall in vain ;— Yes, honour'd Shade ! though brief was thy career, And not a stone records thy lowly bier; E'en yet, thy native woods and wilds among, Thy wreaths are verdant and thy deeds are sung: There haply, as some minstrel tells thy tale To many a mountain chief and listening Gael, Their kindling bosoms catch the patriot flame, And learn the path to Freedom and to Fame. ( 28 ) mkmssg±-' ( M ) JFS&BSM CHAUNCY HARE TOWNSHEND, ESQ. FELLOW-COMMONElt OF TUINITY HALL. 1817. My Spirit some transporting Cherub feels To bear me where the tower of Salem stood, Once glorious towers, now sunk. — Milton's Ode on the Passion. Flvsh'd with her crimes, and swoln with impious pride, Rebellious Judah still her God defied: Then on Isaiah's eye prophetic rose The lengthen'd vision of her future woes; Then, with his country's gathering fate imprest, The sacred fervour labouring in his breast, Against the guilty race his kindling lyre Breathed the deep vengeance of the Almighty's ire. "Hear,* O ye Heavens, and thou, O Earth, give ear, " And trembling shrink the awful sounds to hear ! " The Lord — the Lord hath spoken from' on high, " Whose voice is fate, whose will is destiny. " I see !t I see ! the dread avengers come, '• Fierce as despair, insatiate as the tomb. " Heard ye their wheels, like whirlwinds, sweep around? " Hi ard ye their thundering coursers beat the ground? " Mark'd ye their spears move on in long array, "And shield on shield Hash back the beam of day! • ha. i. 2. \. 26, &C, and \\i\. 6. JEKUSALEM. " O'er Salem's* walls Destruction sternly low'rs, " And eyes impatient her devoted towers. " Bow'd to the dust,f she mourns her slaughter'd bands, " And strives in vain to lift her fetter'd hands." O greatly-fallen, how humbled is thy state ! Thy fields how bare, thy courts how desolate ! "Where Joy was wont the nightly dance to lead, Shrieks the lone bat, and hungry vultures feed ; There the fierce dragon finds a place of rest, And boding screech-owls build their secret nest. No more, Bethesda, o'er thy desert springs Descending Seraphs wave their healing wings ; No more sweet sounds, at morn, or eve, declare That hosts angelic hover on the air : All — all is fled; and Desolation reigns, Without a rival, o'er thy ravaged plains. O days divine ! of you may mortal sing, When God himself was Israel's Guard and King? Will not the eloquence of earthly speech Fail from a height, which fancy scarce can reach ? To know Creation's Monarch ever nigh, A staff in sorrow, and a friend in joy; To see Heaven's glories visibly display'd, And all its Seraphim in light array'd; These were thy rights, O Israel, this thy boast, These the high joys thy disobedience lost. Bear witness, Hermon, thou whose dewy sod Has felt the footstep of a present God ; And, Carmel, thou whose gales, with incense fraught, The murmurs of a voice divine have caught; What dreams extatic o'er the vot'ry stole, How swell'd the pious transport in his soul! E'en now, when o'er your long-forsaken sweets The pilgrim lingers, in your loved retreats, *■ Isu. xxix. 3. t Idem 4th verse. PRIZE POEMS. Steal visionary forms along the vale, And more than music -whispers on the gale. had I pinions,* fleet as those that bear The dove exulting thro' the realms of air, Then would I visit every holy shade, Where saints have knelt, or prophets musing stray'd : Bend with a sigh o'er every relic near, And pay each shrine the tribute of a tear. "Where o'er the waste, in rude disorder thrown, Neglected lie yon crumbling heaps of stone, O who (sad change!) the blest abode could tell, Where God's own glory once vouchsafed to dwell ? Yet fancy still the ruined fane can raise Bright with the glories of departed days. Swift to the view its scatter'd wealth restore, And bid its vanished splendours beam once more. E'en as I gaze,f the sudden spires ascend With graceful sweep the long-row'd arches bend ; Aspiring shafts the heaving dome sustain, And lift the growing fabric from the plain. See, as it rises, all the world combine Its various gifts to deck the work divine : Nature no more her secret treasures hides, The mine uncloses, and the deep divides. Mild o'er the wave the fav'ring breezes play, And waft the Tyrian purple on its way. Her purest marble rocky Paros lends, Her sweetest odours soft Idume' blends : On Carmel's heights the stately cedar falls, And Ophir glistens on the polish'd walls. See, while the slow-expanding gates unclose, How rich within the boundless lustre glows ! Here the tall palm for ever lives in gold, There sculptured flowers their fretted leaves unfold; • Pnalm lv. 6. -t 1 Kiiir5, rh. vi. passim. JERUSALEM. Through the long aisles bright lamps incessant beam, And burnish'd censers roll the spicy stream. But far within retires the dread abode, Jehovah's throne — the Oracle of God: Two cherubs there, with mimic glories bright, High o'er the ark their guardian wings unite. Beneath that shade no earthly treasures lie, No emblems frail of human majesty. But there enshrined the Holy Tablets rest, By God ordain'd, by God himself imprest. Thine were these mighty works, by thee design'd, Beloved of God, and wisest of mankind. What* to thy Sire the will of Heav'n denied To thee it gave, propitious, to provide. Yet, while thy temple in the dust decays, Lives the full splendour of his sacred lays, O skill'd to wake the ever-varying lyre, With all a Prophet's— all a Poet's fire, What breast, that does not kindle at thy strain? What heart, that melts not, when thy strings complain? Hark, how the notes in mournful cadence sigh, Soft as the breeze, that only wakes to die. Changed is their tone; th' impetuous measures sweep, Like the fierce storm conflicting with the deep. Now all th' angelic host at once combine Their golden harps in unison with thine. Extatic fervours seize the trembling soul, And Hallelujahs ring from pole to pole. Whatf fearful omens heralded the hour, That gave Judsea to a tyrant's power? As sank the sun, amid the western blaze Terrific visions burst upon the gaze. Unearthly spears reflect the setting beam, Swords wave, helms glitter, hostile standards stream; • 2 Sam. vii. 4. t Josephi Hist, ct Tacit, lib. v. c. 13. ' 44 vnu.E POEMS. M And thronging chariots, hurrying swiftly by, Sweep the wide air, 'till darkness veils the sky, Nor ceased the portents then : a lurid light Shot a fierce splendour from the clouds of night ; Its own sad hue o'er all the temple spread, And on each fear-struck face a ghastly paleness shed. See! see! untouch'd by any human hand, The temple's gates — her massy gates — expand! No earthly sound is that within I hear, As waters bursting on the deafen'd ear, Proclaiming, as its awful thunders swell, " The Lord no more in Israel deigns to dwell :" No mortal foot th' affrighted threshold trod 'Tis God's own voice, the parting step of God! Yes, thou art now abandon'd to thy fate ; Vain is regret, repentance comes too late. Already onward rush thy angry foes, Already thy devoted walls enclose: Death with pleased eye pursues their destined way, And cheers them on, exulting, to their prey. Darker, and darker still thy doom appears, And Sorrow's face a blacker aspect wears. In vain with equal hand does Justice deal To each the stinted, and unjoyous meal; With looks despairing, as they ask for food, Breaks one shrill shriek from all the multitude: No more remains to fan life's feeble fires, Ami Hope's last throb just flutters, and expires. E'en the fond mother, seized with madness wild, While in her anus th' unconscious infant smiled, Drove to its heart the unrelenting steel, And quench'd her fury on th' accursed meal. Amid the tumult of th' embattled field, Death! thy stern terrors are but half reveal'd. For, e'en if Victory smile not, Glory's beam Casts a clear lighl on lilt's last ebbing stream. — JERUSALEM. But, worn by wasting famine to decay, Hour after hour, by slow degrees away; No cheering hope, no glowing pulse to feel, No kindling fervour of exalted zeal; Sunk in despair, to wish, yet fear to die, This — this is death, in all its agony! Yet, worn by hunger, and opprest with ill, Thy hardy sons remain unconquer'd still. Weakness and strength alike their weapons wield, And they who cannot conquer, scorn to yield. Hark, how without the deaf'ning tumult grows, How swell the shouts of thy victorious foes! Behold, ten thousand torches, hurl'd on high, Gleam o'er the walls, and seem to fire the sky. Now, Salem, now, the spreading flame devours Thy homes, thy temple, and thy headlong towers : Now Vengeance smiling scours th' ensanguined plain, And waves her pinions o'er thy countless slain. 'Tis done; proud Salem smokes along the ground, Her pow'r a dream, her name an empty sound. To other realms, from Sion far away, In mute despair, her last sad remnants stray ; While all the malice of relentless hate, Beneath their foes, her captive sons await; With no kind care their inward wounds to heal, While insult sharpens ev'ry pang they feel. Yet say, base outcasts of offended Heaven, Rebelling still as often as forgiven, Say are the woes, that now your race pursue, More than your crimes, or heavier than your due ? How oft your God has turn'd his wrath away, How oft in mercy has forborne to slay ! How long* by gentle chastisement he strove To win once more his people to his love! • Psalm cv. and cvi. passim. PRIZE POEMS. Ah, call to mind, when in a distant land Forlorn ye bow'd beneath a stranger's hand, His hot displeasure on your haughty foes Pour'd the full tempest of unsparing woes. Then, as his flock the tender shepherd leads To softer herbage, and more fertile meads, He lead his chosen people far away, Their guide in darkness, their defence by day. Lo, at his word, th' obedient depths divide, And 'whelm th' Egyptian in their refluent tide ; While rescued Israel, free from every care, Gains the wish'd bank, and pours the vocal prayer. From the cleft rock see sudden rills rebound, And spread fresh verdure o'er the thirsty ground! Yet still anew your disobedience sprung, And discontent still murmur'd on your tongue; To graven idols still the knee ye bow'd, And join'd in Baal's courts th' incestuous crowd. Still in your pride ye mock'd the threat'ning Seer, As the deaf adder shuts her reckless ear ; Plunged in the Prophet's breast th' unhallow'd sword, And dared to slay the chosen of the Lord. Swift into light th' expected years roll on, Th' Almighty Father sends his promised Son. Not as when Sinai view'd the law reveal'd In fearful lightning, and in thunder seal'd ; Now peaceful omens cheer the drooping earth, And hail the tidings of the Heav'nly birth. Hush'd was the world in darkness and in sleep, The wakeful shepherds watch'd their folded sheep. Clad in the radiant glory of the skies, A form angelic burst upon their eyes; And, slowly stealing on their wond'ring ear, Rose the glad sounds, 'twas heav'n itself to hear. " Joy to the world ! ye nations, cease to mourn, " Now is the Christ, the promised Saviour born !" v) JERUSALEM. And lo, descending, the celestial train Swell the full chorus of the i*apt'rous strain; Till on the gale the notes departing die, And the bright vision melts into the sky. Did ye not then with bursts of transport raise The loud hosanna of exulting praise? With trembling homage round his cradle bend, Watch every look, and every smile attend; And all Creation's noblest gifts combine To form an offering for the Babe divine? Or, when his mortal part matured to man, His earthly ministry at length began, Did ye not crowd his heav'nly words to hear, And drink instruction with delighted ear ? No — harden'd still your stubborn souls remain, As sterile rocks resist the soft'ning rain. Tho' to the blind unwonted day returns, And pale Disease with health's new ardour burns; Tho' deaf to other voice, th' obedient tomb For him reversed her universal doom ; More fell than sickness, colder than the grave, Ye shared his gifts, yet spurn'd at him who gave. Driv'n* thro' the world, unknowing where to lie, Despised, rejected, and condemn'd to die, Before his foes behold Messiah stand, Meekf as a lamb beneath the shearer's hand. O turn on yonder faded form your eyes, Oppress'd with sorrow, and consumed in sighs! Mark that pale brow, with streaming blood embrued, Where Resignation blends with Fortitude ; Those lips in inward prayer that gently move, Those eyes, yet beaming with unconquer'd love ; The meek composure which those looks declare, That holy calm; and say if guilt be there? • Isa. liii. 3. + Idem, 7th verse. 48 PRIZE POEMS. love unbounded, more than words can tell, Tho' hymning angels on the theme should dwell: Not to one people, not one age confined, But flowing ever on to all mankind! See, on the cross those limbs in torture han», Convulsed, and quiv'ring with the deathful pang! A deeper sorrow dwells upon that face, Than Pain's severest agony could trace; Ev'n now his spirit mourns Creation's woes, And breathes compassion for his cruel foes. See, by a world's united crimes opprest, He bows his head submissive on his breast; Now fades the light from those expiring eyes, And Judah's King— her Lord— her Saviour dies! Can this be He before whose awful nod Ev'n seraphs shrink ? Is this the Son of God ? Heir of the world, and Monarch of the sky? The voice of Nature shall itself reply. Else why, O Sun, conceal thy face in dread, AVhy tremble, Earth," and why give up thy dead? Why rends the temple's mystic veil in twain, And fearful thunders shake th' affrighted plain? Yet blind to truth, say, wretched outcasts, 6ay, Wait ye the Saviour of a future day ? Lo, he has lived to bless, has died to save, And burst the brazen fetters of the grave! Awake, redeem'd Jerusalem,! awake, And from the dust thy sullied garments shake! From thy gall'd neck unloose the servile bands, And cast the fetters from thy captive hands. Break forth, ye mountains, into joyful song! Ye barren wilds, the rapt'rous strain prolong! Barren no more; unwonted verdure grows, And the dry desert blossoms as the rose. • Matt, xxvii. 51, 52. t I*a. lii. I, 2, 9. - JERUSALEM. 4:9 Behold, all Nature proves a second birtb, New skies embrace a new-created earth : From the glad scene for ever Woe retires, Pain is no more, and Death himself expires. Ye angels, strike the full-resounding lyre, Swell the glad chorus, all ye heav'nly choir! She comes ! * she comes ! descending from on high, The Holy City meets the ravish'd eye! Bride of the Lamb, without a spot, or stain, Cleansed of her crimes, and ransom'd of her chain. Look at the gates, her glorious towers behold, More clear than crystal, and more fair than gold. There dwell the Lord's B-edeem'd in glory bright, Gaze on his face, and live amidst his light: Haste the delights, that time can ne'er destroy, Eternal fulness of unfading joy ! Rev. xxi. 1, 2, &c. «-^nO^»«5j( ( 50 ) 1AL AND PAPAL Br CHARLES EDWARD LONG, H:U.O\V-COMMONER OF TRINITY COLLEGE. 1818. Et penitus totis inolcvit Roma medullis Dilectaeque urbis, tenero conceutus ab ungue, Mecum crevit amor. Claud, vr. Cons. Hon. DREARY the scene, where all that now remains Of Roman gn atness crowns the Latian plains ; No culture marks the precincts of her state, But all is barren — wild — and desolate. In those lone Courts, where Senates, once the dread Of nations, ruled, the peasant rears his shed ; And the coil'd viper woos the noontide ray, Basking in halls, where Caesars once bore sway; Or thou may'st see pale Superstition there Bending to mutter o'er her midnight prayer. A thousand wint'ry storms have swept around Those aged roofs; now o'er th' encumber'd ground Waves the rank thistle, and the verdant vine Wreathes its wild tendrils round each prostrate shrine. There Tiber rolls in sullen pomp along, Whose banks once glitter'd with the warlike throng Of countless legions, when each Consul's car Shone in the pride and circumstance of war, IMPERIAL AND PAPAL ROME. 51 \ Amidst triumphant shouts, that rent the sky, And glittering helms, and plume, and panoply — Now seen no more ; while o'er those mouldering piles, Destruction sounds her dragon wing, and smiles. Still sadly pleasing is the desert gloom That hangs around, and shrouds an empire's tomb; And dearer far to philosophic eye J Yon aged mound where Rome's gray ruins lie, Than all the splendour of her pageantry. But moons have wasted, years have roll'd away, Since her proud legions frown'd in dread array, And many a foe has scaled yon ivied Avail, And many a pillar totter'd to its fall; And oft those courts have echoed to the tread Of hurrying squadrons, and the mighty dead Heard, from within their sepulchres, the cry Of jarring hosts, shouting to victory — Since Triumph proudly yoked her milk-white steeds, And Freedom roused her sons to val'rous deeds: But she long since has drooped her eagle plume, And wept in silence o'er each warrior's tomb ; And she has fled those plains, to find repose 'Midst wilder regions robed in Arctic snows. Yet still Rome's guardian Genius seems to wave Its gladd'ning wing o'er every patriot's grave; E'en yet can Fancy's fairy visions raise The bright illusion of her happier days; In childhood taught to venerate her fame, We lisp her language, we adore her name ; And once imprinted on the youthful heart, Her glories brighten, and her crimes depart. 'Twas Rome that foster'd Science in her birth, " The Light of Nations"—" Mistress of the Earth." Bold Independence mark'd her dauntless band, Inured to hardship, born for high command : is 2 52 PRIZE POEMS. Free in their pristine majesty of mind, Rude as the rocks, unshackled as the wind : When Vict'ry flew on eagle wings display'd, Where'er her warriors bared the battle-hlade ; While he, the guardian of his country's fate, Alternate ruled the cottage and the state. Vainly Numidia's daring chieftain plann'd To burst the mountain barriers of her land ; Doom'd to behold his boasted vet'rans yield, And Canna?'s victors shrink from Zama's field, When Scipio's sword retrieved his Country's name, And wrote her vengeance on the scroll of fame. Such the renown, Home, thy valour won, When the full splendour of thy mid-day sun Shone o'er the land, and pour'd its brightest beams From Alpine heights to Jordan's sacred streams. The swarthy Syrian bowed the subject neck, And Susa's tyrants trembled at thy beck; And those bright sunny realms that ever smile In circling prospect round fair Delos' isle — Mountains and vales that court the iEgean main — Immortal Athens — own'd a Conqueror's reign : Land of the Bard, where Science first outspread Her infant arms, and raised her youthful head; Succeeding ages caught the rapturous fire, And Homer's accents breathed l'rom Virgil's lyre. Pride of his race ! what envied sweetness hung In soft mellifluence on thy Tully's tongue, The tyrant's dread, the friend to freedom's cause, His Idol, Home — his Sovereign, her Laws; To names like his the patriot joys to turn, And owns " the thoughts that breathe the words that burn." Brief hour of glory — license unrestrain'd Kuged in the Senate, and its laws profaned ; When Faction hundred-tongued with rebel hate Tore from its base the fabric of the state. IMPERIAL AND PAPAL ROME. Hence fierce dissensions fann'd the latent fire, Kindred met kindred — sons opposed their sire; Blood-stain'd Ambition summon'd forth her band, liaised the red scourge, and shook the threat'ning brand. Thus Freedom saw, amidst the dark'ning fray, Opposing chieftains boast alternate sway, And vainly strove to soften and assuage A Marius' hatred, and a Sylla's rage, Till on Pharsalia's sadly fatal plains She wept her sons contending for their chains. Oh ! turn we where proud Actium's trophied height Mark'd Caesar's triumph, and his rival's flight; Bright o'er the west the sun of genius shone, And Memphian trophies graced the conqu'ror's throne : Then pour'd the Mantuan bard the flood of song, And told iEneas' toils, and Dido's wrong : Venusium sent her minstrel to the light, Lord of the Satire art, and Lyric flight. 'Twas then that Beth'lem's hallowed star arose, To warn Judea of her future woes; When the lone desert heard the welcome voice, That bade the wretched rise, the poor rejoice; "When Tabor's hill by heav'nly feet was trod, And Salem knew the presence of her God. He came — he came to gladden Israel's eyes, At once the Saviour, and the sacrifice ; Celestial mildness o'er his features glow'd, "While from his lips sublimest precepts flow'd : " Peace to the troubled soul — to nations joy — "Ages of bliss — and life without alloy." Then stood the mighty mistress of mankind — Her pow'r supreme, her empire unconfined ; The trembling savage, whose untutor'd soul Own'd no superior, and brook'd no control, Confess'd her pow'r, and sheath'd his thirsty sword ; Gazed on her ranks, and while he fear'd — adored. 54: PRIZE POEMS. From Gallia's coast, and Albion's sea-girt isle, To farthest fountains of the fruitful Nile, From Scythian wilds, and endless tracks of snow, To where the fairest flow'rs of Indus blow, All bowed submissive to her dread decrees, Like reeds that wave beneath the summer breeze. But all within betrayed Corruption's spell, And brighter lustre marked her ere she fell. Her's was that fiery glow that gilds the west, Ere Neptune leaves the chambers of his rest; That shews the tempest brooding o'er the deep, To wake the green-hair'd Nereids from their sleep : The outward heat that spoke an inward flame, The hectic flush that marked the sinking frame. Won 'midst the trophies of the conquer'd east, Came the rich viand, and the sumptuous feast; Soon ev'ry vice to luxury allied j Debased her sons, and quenched that patriot pride, V Which oft had stemm'd war's desolating tide : ) And Asia's soft attire, and gorgeous vest, Worn by the hardy warrior of the west, As erst the Centaur's poison'd robe of old, Infused the venom lurking in its fold, Fatal reverse — the fall'n enervate race Crouched to the blow, and coveted disgrace. Oh ! could oblivion shroud the lasting shame That mark'd the dotage of her fading fame ; When every crime th' imperial smile could win, And Nero's purple sanctified a sin ; When venal slavery barter'd for her price, And honour's passport bore the stamp of vice. Yet was there one bright beam, one hallowed form, That shot athwart the darkness of the storm, One parting ray that pour'd its heav'nly light, One dying ember mock'd the approaching night: IMPERIAL AND PAPAL ROMK. OO But oh! it glimmer'd only to disclose The lengthen'd prospect of unceasing woes ; And Trajan's spirit, borne on Mercy's breast, "VVing'd its swift journey to the realms of rest. In vain did Freedom mourn her ravaged shrine, Her altar prostrate, and her reign's decline; No vestal guardian watch'd the sacred fire, That kindled— hrighten'd — only to expire; Fair Science saw her sister-train disgraced, Her haunts deserted, and her works defaced; Wealth — Glory — Honour — sank amidst the gloom, And Freedom — Learning — found one common tomb. Soon came the hour when, issuing from his snows, The northern savage roused him from repose, Houseless and fierce, to whom the battle's strife Was wealth, was honour, liberty, and life. Sarmatia saw the gathering clouds of war, And called her fur-clad myriads from afar, While pregnant Scythia o'er the groaning earth Pour'd from her icy womb a monstrous birth. As when the genius of the storm unbinds, Yoked in their gloomy caves, the struggling winds, And rising sternly o'er the pathless deep, Bids the loud tempest rave, the whirlwind sweep ; Gigantic— striding through the dusky air, While round his brow bright-streaming meteors glare, And clothed in clouds, and canopied by fire, Plies the vindictive engines of his ire. Scared at his form the screaming sea-fowl soars In airy circles round her native shores ; Each Naiad sporting o'er the glassy wave Starts at his voice, and seeks her crystal cave ; And the wild shrieking heron borne on high Forebodes the brooding horrors of the sky. He 'midst the thunder's peal, the lightning's gleam, Frowns o'er the subject main, and stalks supreme, 56 l'UIZE POEMS. So stood the Gothic chief by Heav'n design'd "The scourge of vice" — "Destroyer of mankind." Then Havoc bared her arm, and Ate smiled With ghastly visage and with transport wild : War march'd triumphant o'er the field of death, While Famine spread contagion from her breath : Nor ceased, 'till Slaughter, weary with the fray, Sneathcd the red blade, and slumber'd o'er her prey. Last, stern Oppression clench'd his iron hand, And stretch'd his sceptre o'er the afflicted land: And all was still — unheard the battle's shout, The yell of triumph, and the echoing rout; And all was silent as the grave, save where, Wrapt in the gloomy sadness of despair, The free-born native of ill-fated Rome Breathed his last stifled sigh o'er Freedom's tomb. At length the rude barbarian learnt to feel The holy influence of religious zeal, And sought, where ne'er before his steps had trod, The hallowed altar of Judsea's God. And lo ! the queen of nations once again Rear'd high her reverend head, and burst her chain. By pious hands the fretted roof was raised, And incense smoked, and thousand tapers blazed; Unnumber'd vot'ries crowded to behold Salem's bright cross, and shrine of radiant gold : Rich Mere her temples, and her altars graced With all the pride of the luxuriant East: Yet in her streets dwelt Indigence, and Fear That trembled as she prayed — for it was there That holy Fury, and misguided Zeal, First waved the brand, and raised the tort'ring wheel. Built on the blind credulity of man The dark dominion of her Church began ; Then pompous falsehoods awed a yielding race, And Papal thunders shook each kingdom's base ! _____ IMPERIAL AND PAPAL ROME. The triple mitre on a dotard's brow Made nations shrink, and sternest tyrant's bow. No vulgar eye profaned the hallowed chair Wrapt in mysterious awe : no tongue could dare Dispute the sacred mandates which were given As the dread words, the Oracles of Heaven. And undefined dominion's thick'ning cloud Cast o'er the mind its melancholy shroud, While, robed in floating, vague, and shadowy might, Rome's towering genius breathed a deeper night, And, clothed like Andes in his misty vest, Threw chilling shades of darkness o'er the West. Woe to the impious tongue that dared deride The haughty arrogance of Papal pride ! Woe to the man whom Reason's voice had told That crimes could ne'er be sanctified by gold! All milder doctrines were at once denied, The hand was palsied, and the tongue was tied: The trembling sceptic kissed the sacred rod, And owned her chiefs the delegates of God. 'Twas not by penitence and inward grief The sinner sought to find a blest relief; Not his the heartfelt consciousness, that leads To true repentance, and to holier deeds. Religion no mild joy could e'er impart, She claim'd no empire o'er the human heart. Oh ! had the voice of Charity represt The flame that slumber'd in each bigot's breast, Still unpolluted would that fount have glow'd With all the heav'nly light whence first it flow'd. Soon banish'd Mercy fled the bleeding land, And Persecution raised her tyrant hand : Long, loud hosannas mocked the cries of death, As martyr'd thousands yielded up their breath. And was it thus, great God, thy people strove To stamp their faith, and ratify their love? 58 PRIZE POEMS. Was it 'midst scenes like these, that dove-like form Descending, sought a refuge from the storm? Emblem of peace — no hallowed spot was there, No stone to rest on, and no branch to bear. Turn from such scenes, my muse, ah! turn to view Visions of milder aspect, livelier hue; When banish'd Genius plumed his ruffled wing, Sought the lost wreath, and swept the trembling string What time the Muse attuned her vocal lyre To the wild raptures of a Dante's fire, And smiling wove around her fav'rite's brow The verdant honours of the Delphic bough, Or in that cave, where Sorgia's waters rise, The lone Petrarcha breath'd immortal sighs. He who beheld, amidst an age of shame, One last protector of his country's fame: Brave injured chief, Rienzi — patriot name. No longer blasted in untimely hour Perish'd the germ of ev'ry opening flow'r; From the dim cloister's melancholy shade Fair blooming Science raised her drooping head, And bright-eyed Fancy soar'd with wavering flight Thro' fields of ether, realms of beamy light; While, as her Tasso quaffed the heav'nly -ray, Attending seraphs tuned the hallowed lay, And Sion's muse, on eagle pinions borne, Caught the first fragrance of the orient morn. A Michael's hand could mimic life impart To the rude breathless stone ; while Raffaelle's art Bade the rough canvas, melting into light, Beam in its blending colouring to the sight. Next Music left her starry sphere on high, And swept the chords in wildest harmony. Rome shone again confest in all her charms, Unrivall'd then in arts, as once in arms. IMPERIAL AND PAPAL KOME. Tho' lost to glory, still to her belong The palm of Science, and the meed of song. Oh ! who will guide me to that kinder shore, Where never sea-bird hears the tempest's roar, Where Zephyrs borne on rosy pinions fling Unfading odours redolent of Spring; Where Nature blooms with ever verdant flow'rs. And Pleasure leads in dance the circling hours ; Where mantling vineyards deck the mountain's side, And blossoms smile, to other realms denied : Groves, whose rich trees disown a planter's care, Rise there luxuriant; fountains ever fair Leap from their crystal urns in sparkling rills, And wind irriguous down the verdant hills. Oh ! might I visit every grove, and gaze On ev'ry spot that to the mind conveys The pleasing retrospect of earlier days ! For not a streamlet greets the list'ning ear, But boasts some sweet remembrance to endear; And Fancy's visions on each branch are hung, Where Fabius triumph'd, or where Virgil sung. Ye mould'ring fanes, beheld on ev'ry side ! Majestic ruins ! wrecks of ancient pride ! Ye bowers whose sweets the rapid Anio laves ! Ye plains where Tiber pours his classic waves ! Oh ! there was once a time when Freedom's ray Bless'd every grove, and cheer'd each opening day — When wealth — when commerce spread their richest stores And valour hurl'd invasion from those shores. Ill-fated land ! where all was once so fair Broods sorrowing silence now, and dark despair. All— all is fled, and glory's evening sun Throws its last tints — its splendid course is run. Fall'n is Ausonia's pride, her virtue fled ; Lost are those rights for which her patriots bled ; = ===== GO PKIZE POEMS. Nerveless that arm — no manly toils impart A kindred ardour to the human heart, "While every sensual vice pollutes the mind, And e'en Religion teaches but to blind. Why do proud Albion's colder regions smile? Why does Content reign round her stormy isle ? 'Tis Liberty which cheers the rugged coast, That first — best blessing, still her brightest boast. O Freedom! pure instructress of the mind, Blest bond of union — birth-right of mankind, Thine is the star that from yon mountain's height Beams life and glory to the nation's sight : Thine is the voice — the talismanic charm, That warms the patriot's breast, and nerves his arm ; Upborne by thee, he hails his humbler lot, His scanty fare, and lowly-rafter'd cot. Thou bid'st him find endearment in the roar Of the wild waves that beat around his shore, And as yon eagle, whose imperial form Soars on the blast, and rests upon the storm, So does thy guardian spirit ride the breeze, Where Britain's bulwarks sweep the subject seas. There Honour — Virtue — Dignity combine To guard the hallowed precincts of thy shrine ; Blest by thy presence shall her empire stand Firm as the oaks that crown her sea-encircled land. ( 61 ) HPSBS, THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY, OP TEINITT COLLEGE. 1819. Oh ! land to Mem'ry and to Freedom dear, Land of the melting lyre and conqu'ring spear, Land of the vine-clad hill, the fragrant grove, Of arts and arms, of Genius and of Love, Hear, fairest Italy. Tho' now no more Thy glitt'ring eagles awe th' Atlantic shore, Nor at thy feet the gorgeous Orient flings The blood-bought treasures of her tawny Kings, Tho' vanish'd all that form'd thine old renown, The laurel garland, and the jewell'd crown, Th' avenging poinard, the victorious sword, Which rear'd thine empire, or thy rights restored, Yet still the constant Muses haunt thy shore, And love to linger where they dwelt of yore. If e'er of old they deign'd, with favouring smile, To tread the sea-girt shores of Albion's isle, To smooth with classic arts our rugged tongue, And warm with classic glow the British song; Oh ! bid them snatch their silent harps which wave On the lone oak that shades thy Maro's grave,* And sweep with magic hand the slumb'ring strings, To fire the poet. — For thy clime he sings, • See Eustace's description of the Tomb of Virgil, on the Neapolitan coast. 02 PRIZE POEMS. Thy scenes of gay delight and wild despair, Thy varied forms of awful and of fair. How rich that climate's sweets, how wild its storms, What charms array it, and what rage deforms, Well have thy mould'ring walls, Pompeii, known, Deck'd in those charms, and by that rage o'erthrown. Sad City, gaily dawn'd thy latest day, And pour'd its radiance on a scene as gay. The leaves scarce rustled in the sighing breeze; In azure dimples curl'd the sparkling seas, And, as the golden tide of light they quaff'd, Campania's sunny meads and vineyards lauglrd, While gleam'd each lichen'd oak and giant pine, On the far sides of swarthy Apennine. Then mirth and music thro' Pompeii rung ; Then verdant wreaths on all her portals hung; Her sons with solemn rite and jocund lay Hail'd the glad splendours of that festal day. With fillets bound the hoary priests advance, And rosy virgins braid the choral dance. The rugged warrior here unbends awhile Do His iron front, and deigns a transient smile : There, frantic with delight, the ruddy boy Scarce treads on earth, and bounds and laughs with joy. From cv'ry crowded altar perfumes rise In billowy clouds of fragrance to the skies. The milk-white monarch of the herd they lead, With gilded horns, at yonder shrine to bleed; And while the victim crops the 'broider'd plain, And frisks and gambols tow'rds the destined fane, They little deem that like himself they stray To death, unconscious, o'er a flow'ry way, Heedless, like him, th' impending stroke await, And sport and wanton on the brink of fate. What 'vails it that where yonder heights aspire, With ashes piled, and scathed with rills of fire, — POMPEII. 63 Gigantic phantoms dimly seem'd to glide,* In misty tiles, along the mountain's side, To view with threat'ning scowl your fated lands, And tow'rd your city point their shadowy hands? In vain celestial omens prompted fear, And Nature's signal spoke the ruin near. In vain thro' many a night ye view'd from far The meteor flag .of elemental war Unroll its blazing folds from yonder height, In fearful sign of earth's intestine fight. In vain Vesuvius groan'd with wrath supprest, And mutter'd thunder in his burning breast. Long since the Eagle from that flaming peak Hath soar'd with screams a safer nest to seek. Awed by th' infernal beacon's fitful glare, The howling fox hath left his wonted lair ; Nor dares the browzing goat in vent'rous leap To spring, a9 erst, from dizzy steep to steep. — Man only mocks the peril. Man alone Defies the sulph'rous flame, the warning groan. While instinct, humbler guardian, wakes and saves, Proud reason sleeps, nor knows the doom it braves. But see, the opening theatre invites The fated myriads to its gay delights. In, in, they swarm, tumultuous as the roar Of foaming breakers on a rocky shore. Th' enraptured throng in breathless transport views The gorgeous temple of the Tragic Muse. There, while her wand in shadowy pomp arrays Ideal scenes, and forms of other days, Fair as the hopes of youth, a radiant band, The sister arts around her footstool stand, * Dio Cassius relates that figures of gigantic size appeared, for some time previous to the destruction of Pompeii, on the summits of Vesuvius. This appearance was probably occasioned by the fantastic forms which the 6moke from the crater of the volcano assumed. 64 TRIZB POEMS. To deck their Queen, and lend a milder grace To the stern beauty of that awful face. Far, far around the ravish'd eye surveys The sculptured forms of gods and heroes blaze. Above, the echoing roofs the peal prolong Of lofty converse, or melodious song, While, as the tones of passion sink or swell, Admiring thousands own the moral spell, Melt with the melting strains of fancied woe, With terror sicken, or with transport glow. Oh! for a voice like that which peal'd of old Thro' Salem's cedar courts and shrines of gold, And in wild accents round the trembling dome Proclaim'd the havoc of avenging Rome; While ev'ry palmy arch and sculptured tow'r Shook with the footsteps of the parting pow'r. Such voice might check your tears, which idly stream For the vain phantoms of the poet's dream, Might bid those terrors rise, those sorrows flow, For other perils, and for nearer woe; The hour is come. E'en now the sulph'rous cloud Involves the City in its fun'ral shroud, And far along Campania's azure sky Expands its dark and boundless canopy. The Sun, tho' throng'd on heaven's meridian height, Burns red and rayless thro' that sickly night. Each bosom felt at once the shudd'ring thrill — At once the music stopp'd — the song was still. None in that cloud's portentous shade might trace The fearful changes of another's face : But thro' that horrid stillness each could hear His neighbour's throbbing heart beat^high with fear. A moment's pause succeeds. Then Mildly rise Grief's sobbing plaints and terror's frantic cries. The gates recoil; and tow'rds the narrow pass In wild confusion rolls the living mass. POMPEII. Death, — when thy shadowy sceptre waves away From his sad couch the pris'ner of decay, Tho' friendship view the close with glist'ning eye, And love's fond lips imbihe the parting sigh, By torture rack'd, by kindness soothed in vain, The soul still clings to being and to pain : But when have wilder terrors clothed thy brow, Or keener torments edged thy dart, than now, When with thy regal horrors vainly strove The laws of Nature, and the power of Love ? On mothers, babes in vain for mercy call, Beneath the feet of brothers, brothers fall. Behold the dying wretch in vain upraise Tow'rds yonder well-known face the accusing gaze : See, trampled to the earth, the expiring maid Clings round her lover's feet, and shrieks for aid. Vain is th' imploring glance, the frenzied cry; All, all is fear; — To succour is to die. — Say ye how wild, how red, how broad a light Burst on the darkness of that mid-day night, As fierce Vesuvius scatter'd o'er the vale His drifted flames and sheets of burning hail, Shook hell's wan light'nings from his blazing cone, And gilded heaven with meteors not its own? Thd* morn all blushing rose ; but sought in vain The snowy villas and the flow'ry plain, The purple hills with marshall'd vineyards gay, The domes that sparkled in the sunny ray. Where art or nature late had deck'd the scene With blazing marble or with spangled green, There, streak'd by many a fiery torrent's bed, A boundless waste of hoary ashes spread. Along that dreary waste where lately rung The festal lay which smiling virgins sung, Where rapture echoed from the warbling lute> And the gay dance resounded, all is mute. — FRIZF. POEMS. Mute!— Is it Fancy shapes that wailing sound Which faintly murmurs from the blasted ground? Or live there still, who, breathing in the tomb, Curse the dark refuge which delays their doom, In massive vaults, on which th' incumbent plain And ruin'd City heap their weight in vain ? Oh! who may sing that hour of mortal strife, When Nature calls on Death, yet clings to life? Who paint the wretch that draws sepulchral breath, A living pris'ner in the house of Death ? Pale as the corpse which loads the fun'ral pile. With face convulsed that writhes a ghastly smile, Behold him speechless move with hurried pace, Incessant, round his dungeon's cavern'd space, Now shriek in terror, and now groan in pain, Gnaw his white lips, and strike his burning brain, Till Fear o'erstrain'd in stupor dies away, And Madness wrests her victim from dismay. His arms sink down ; his wild and stony eye Glares without sight on blackest vacancy. He feels not, sees not; wrapp'd in senseless trance His soul is still and listless as his glance. One cheerless blank, one rayless mist is there, Thoughts, senses, passions, live not with despair. Haste, Famine, haste, to urge the destined close. And lull the horrid scene to stern repose. Yet ere, dire Fiend, thy ling'ring tortures cease, And all be hush'd in still sepulchral peace, Those caves shall wilder, darker deeds behold Than e'er the voice of song or fable told, Whate'er dismay may prompt, or madness dare, Feasts of the grave, and banquets of despair. — Hide, hide the scene! and o'er the blasting sight Fling the dark veil of ages and of night. Go, seek Pompeii now: — with pensive tread Roam thro' the silent citv of the dead. = POMPEII. 67 Explore each spot, where still, in ruin grand, Her shapeless piles and tott'ring columns stand; Where the pale ivy's clasping wreaths o'ershade The ruin'd temple's moss-clad colonnade, Or violets on the hearth's cold marble wave, And muse in silence on a people's grave. Fear not. — No sign of death thine eyes shall scare, No, all is beauty, verdure, fragrance there. A gentle slope includes the fatal ground, With od'rous shrubs and tufted myrtles crown'd; Beneath, o'ergrown with grass, or wreath'd with flow'rs, Lie tombs and temples, columns, baths, and towers. As if in mock'ry, Nature seems to dress In all her charms the beauteous wilderness, And bids her gayest flow'rets twine and bloom In sweet profusion o'er a city's tomb. With roses here she decks th' untrodden path, With lilies fringes there the stately bath; Th' Acanthus'* spreading foliage here she weaves Round the gay capital which mocks its leaves; There hangs the sides of ev'ry mould'ring room With tap'stry from her own fantastic loom, Wall-flow'rs and weeds, whose glowing hues supply With simple grace the purple's Tyrian dye. The ruin'd city sleeps in fragrant shade, Like the pale corpse of some Athenian maid,f Whose marble arms, cold brows, and snowy neck The fairest flow'rs of fairest climates deck, Meet types of her whose form their wreaths array, Of radiant beauty, and of swift decaj'. * The capital of the Corinthian pillar is carved, as is well known, in imitation of the Acanthus. Mons. de Chateaubriand, as I have found since this Poem was written, has employed the same image in his Travels. t It is the custom of the modern Greeks to adorn corpses profusely with flowers. f2 68 PRIZE POEMS. Advance, and wander on thro' crumbling halls, Thro' prostrate gates, and ivied pedestals; Arches, whose echoes now no chariots rouse, Tombs, on whose summits goats undaunted browse. See, where yon ruin'd wall on earth reclines, Thro' weeds and moss the half-seen painting shines, Still vivid 'midst the dewy cowslips glows, Or blends its colours with the blushing rose. Thou lovely, ghastly scene of fair decay, In beauty awful, and 'midst horrors gay, Renown more wide, more bright shall gild thy name, Than thy wild charms or fearful doom could claim. Immortal spirits, in whose deathless song Latium and Athens yet their reign prolong, And, from their thrones of fame and empire hurl'd, Still sway the sceptre of the mental world ; You, in whose breasts the flames of Pindus beam'd, "Whose copious lips with rich persuasion stream'd, AVhose minds unravell'd Nature's mystic plan, Or traced the mazy labyrinth of man; Bend, glorious spirits, from your blissful bow'rs, And 'broider'd couches of unfading flow'rs, While round your locks th' Elysian garlands blow, With sweeter odours, and with brighter glow. Once more, immortal shades, atoning Fame Repairs the honours of each glorious name. Behold Pompeii's opening vaults restore The long-lost treasures of your ancient lore, The vestal radiance of poetic fire, The stately buskin, and the tuneful lyre; The wand of eloquence, whose magic sway The sceptres and the swords of earth obey, And ev'ry mighty spell, whose strong control Could nerve or melt, could fire or soothe the soul. And thou, sad City, raise thy drooping head, And share the honours of the glorious dead. POMPEIT. Had Fate reprieved thee till the frozen North Pour'd in wild swarms its hoarded millions forth, Till blazing cities mark'd where Albo'in* trod, Or Europe quaked beneath the scourge of God, No lasting wreath had graced thy fun'ral pall, No Fame redeem'd the horrors of thy fall. Now shall thy deathless mern'ry live entwined With all that conquers, rules, or charms the mind, Each lofty thought of poet or of sage, Each grace of Virgil's lyre, or Tully's page. Like their's whose Genius consecrates thy tomb, Thy fame shall snatch from time a greener bloom, Shall spread where'er the Muse has rear'd her throne, And live renown'd in accents yet unknown; Earth's utmost bounds shall join the glad acclaim, And distant Camus bless Pompeii's name. • The well-known name of Attila. ^rK-^Hs^^- ( 70 ) '&TMMMM&, BY GEORGE ERVING SCOTT, OP TRINITY HALL, 1820. From stormy skies the Sun withdrew his light; Terrific in her grandeur reigned the Night : 'Twas deepest gloom — or light'ning's angry glare; Voices of mighty thunder rent the air : In gusts and moanings hollow raved the blast, And clouds poured out their fury, as they passed. But fiercer storms to-morrow's Sun shall fright; More deadly thunders usher in the night. The winds may howl unnoticed; for their sound 'Mid the deep groans of thousands shall be drowned; The plain be deluged with a ghastlier flood: That tempest's wrath shall fall in showers of blood. See ! by the flash of momentary day, The hills are thronged with battle's dread array. There, Gallia's legions, reeking with the gore Of slaughtered Prussia; thirsting deep for more; Secure of Conquest: ravening for their prey; On Brussels thought, and cursed the night's delay. Here Brunswick's sable warriors, grim, and still, Mourned their lost chief; and eyed the adverse hill With full intent. Indignant at retreat Here Britons burned once more that foe to greet. Yet were there some could slumber, and forget, Awhile, the deadly work for which they met. ,<3r WATERLOO. • The battle of Roeroi, on the eve of which, according to Voltaire (Siecle de Louis XIV.), the Prince, having made all his dispositions, slept ro soundly, that they were obliged to awaken him for the engagement. But anxious thoughts broke many a soldier's rest, Thoughts not unworthy of a Hero's breast. The rugged Veteran, struggling with a sigh, In fancy listen'd to his orphans' cry; Saw them a prey to poverty and woe, And felt that pang which only parents know. With eager feelings, not unmixed with awe, A battle's eve now first the Stripling saw : Weary, and wet, and famished as he lay, Imagination wandering far away, Shews him the scene of dear, domestic joy; Laughs with him o'er the frolics of the boy. The words of parting tingle in his ears; How swells his heart, as each loved form appears ! And now it yearns towards her, and her alone, Whom youth's fond dreams had given him for his own. From these — from her — 'twas agony to part! To-morrow's chance smote chill upon his heart. Twas but a moment. Hope asserts her right, Grants him his wildest visions of delight. To gay, victorious thoughts, he lightly yields, And sleeps like Conde* ere his first of fields. Slow broke the Sun thro' that sad morning's gloom, And awful scene his watery beams illume. No glittering pageant met the dazzled eyes; For painful marches, and tempestuous skies Had quenched the light of steel — the pride of gold : Each warrior's plight a tale of hardship told. And youthful eyes beamed gaiety no more, But all a look of settled fierceness wore. It is a breathless pause — while armies wait The madd'ning signal for the work of fate. 72 PRIZE POEMS. Its thunder spoke, — quick answering to the first, Peal upon peal in dread succession burst. Darted Imperial Eagles from their stand ; Rushed in their train a long-victorious band; Shot down the slope, and clashed upon the wood, "Where, calm and ready, Britain's guardians stood. Hark to that yell ! as hand to hand they close : There the last shriek of multitudes arose ! — Hark to the musket-fire! from man to man, Rapid, and gathering fury as it ran, It spreads, fierce crackling, thro' the ranks of death, While nations sink before its blasting breath. The war-smoke mounts ; cloud rolling after cloud : They spread; they mingle; till one sulph'rous shroud Enwraps the field. What shouts, what demon-screams Rung from that misty vale! what fiery gleams Broke fast and far — oh ! words arc weak to tell. It was a scene had less of earth than hell. But look! what means yon fitful, redd'ning glare? What flames are struggling with the murky air? Lo ! thro' the gloom they burst ! and full and bright Streams o'er the war, their fearful, wavering light. Amidst yon wood 'tis raging. Yes ! thy towers, Ill-fated Hougomont, that blaze devours. Forth blindly rushing mingle friend and foe. See the walls tottering! — there! down, down they go Headlong ! Within that ruin to have been ! Oh ! shuddering fancy quails beneath the scene. For there had many a victim crept to die ; There, crushed and motionless, in heaps they lie. And happy they : for many a wretch was there, Powerful to suffer ; lingering in despair. Is it the bursting earthquake's voice of fear? That hollow rush? No! borne in full career On roll the chosen squadrons of the foe, Whose mail-clad bosoms mock the sabre's blow. WATERLOO. 73 Wild waves of sable plumage o'er them dancing; Above that sea, quick, broken flashes glancing From brandished steel; shrill raising, as they came, The spell of that all-conquering chieftain's name. Dismal the rattle of their harness grew; Their grisly features opened on the view. Forth spurring, cheerful as their trumpets rang, The stately chivalry of England sprang In native valor — arms of proof — arrayed: Nought but his own right hand, and his good blade, To guard each hero's breast. Like thunder-clouds Rolling together, clash the foaming crowds. Their swords are falling with gigantic sway, And gashes yawn, and limbs are lopped away : And lightened chargers toss the loosening rein, Break frantic forth, and scour along the plain. Their lords, the glorious shapes of war they bore, The terrible, the graceful — are no more; Crushed out of man's similitude, expire, With nought to mark them from the gory mire, (Tomb of their yet warm relics) save the last Convulsive flutter, as the Spirit past. Those iron warriors reel! their eagle's won, Tho' squadrons bled to rescue it! 'tis done,— That stern, unequal combat! 'tis a chase! Hot Wrath let loose on Terror and Disgrace! Such is the desert antelope's career; Plunging, and tossing, mad with pain and fear; Whom her keen foe, the murd'rous vulture, rides With talons rooted in her streaming sides. Where, yonder, war's tumultuous billows roll; Where each wild passion fires the frenzied soul ; The blood, the havoc, of that ruthless hour On those steeled hearts have lost their chilling power. The charging veteran marks, with careless eye, His comrade sink; and, as he rushes by, PUIZB TOEMS. Sees not the varied horrors of his lot; Springs on his foe, and strikes, and shudders not. But turn, and pity that brave, suffering band, Beneath the battery's fury doomed to stand With useless arms : with leisure to survey The wreck around them. Hearts of proof were they That shrunk not. Burning like a meteor star, With whirlwind's fury rushing from afar, The bolt of death amidst their close array With deafening crash falls; bursts; and marks its wa v With torn and scattered victims. There are they Who, but one moment since, with haughty brow, Stood firm in conscious manliness. And now — Mark those pale, altered features ; those wild groans ; Those quiv'ring lips ; those blood-stained, shattered bones ! With burning hearts, and half averted eyes, Their fellows view that hideous sacrifice. Oh ! they did hail the summons with delight, That called them forth to mingle in the fight. Forward they press : too busy now to heed The piteous cry; the wail of those who plead With frantic earnestness to friend and chief For help to bear them off; for that relief, Which might not be. How sunk the sufferer's heart, Who saw his hopes expire — his friends depart, And leave him to his woes — a helpless prey. Death! death alone may be his friend to-day. 'Tis he shall calm each agonizing fear Of trampling hoofs, or lancer's* coward spear ; Shall cool that thirst, and bid those torments cease, And o'er him shed the sweets of sleep and peace. When storms are loud, go, view some rugged shore, Tow'rds whose stern barrier hoarsely racing pour • This epithet can, of course, only refer to the use made of the weapon by the French against the wounded and helpless. WATEULOO. The long dark billows; swelling till they curl; Then full against the rocks their fury hurl, And spring aloft in clouds. Dost see that wave Leap at the cliffs, and into yonder cave Ride, swift and high? From the rude sides recoiling, It flies in showers of spray; then, fiercely boiling, Rallies, and drives its might amongst the crags, Wheeling in eddies — vain ! its fury flags ; Tost from their points, it yields; and to the deep, Baffled, and broken, as its currents sweep, Leaves to its conqu'rors, on the cavern floor, The wreaths of foam; the crest it proudly wore. Firm as the rocks that strew that sea-beat coast, In clust'ring masses stood the British host. Fierce as those waves, the warrior horse of Gaul Streamed, blindly rushing to as sure a fall. Ever, as near to each dark square they drew, In act to plunge, and crush th' unshrinking few, Burst, as from Death's own jaws, a fiery shower, Whose 'whelming blast, whose paralysing power, Nought earthly might withstand. To rise no more, Whole ranks are down. The treach'rous cuirass tore The breast beneath ; in splinters flew the lance. Yet nobly true to Glory and to France, Yet, 'mid the ruin, many a steadfast heart, E'en to the last, played well a chieftain's part. They lived to see their efforts fail to cheer Those veterans, pale with all unwonted fear. In vain devotion, in despairing pride, They rushed upon the bristling steel and died. What tho' the remnant fled ? Fresh myriads rear The forked banner, couch the threatening spear; Drive, and are driven, to that fatal goal; Countless, as clouds before the gale that roll; Fast, as the troubled world of waters pours . Wave upon wave, from undiminished stores. I'HIZE POEMS. The tide has turned : the roar is dying fast : Each lessening wave breaks shorter than the last ; And France, the life-blood ebbing from her veins, Feebly, yet furious still, for victory strains. One effort more ! a mighty one ! She came, Nerved by despair, and goaded on by shame. But Britain marked her fainting rival's plight, And gave her vengeance way; and from her height Plunged, like the lava cataract, whose roar Shakes frozen Hecla's precipices hoar. The bright blue gems of Arctic ice that crowned Her lofty head, are melting all around; A thousand winters' hardened depth of snow Is vanishing before that torrent's glow ; Mighty the rocks that, frowning, bar its path : Rending, uprooting, scattering them in wrath ; The flaming deluge, with resistless sway, Holds on its widely desolating way. France! thou art fallen! and he, so oft the boast, The idol, of thine oft deserted host, Leaves it once more — to curse his name and die. But as he turned, what phantoms met his eye ? Rising like those wild shapes that from the dead Return to haunt the tortured murderer's bed. No, mighty murderer! 'tis not a dream! 'Tis Prussia's self! her own exulting scream! Fliest thou? she comes, with lavish hands to pay The debt that swelled thro' many a bitter day. There's rust upon her steel. Aye! there was shed The deadliest venom hatred ever bred. And she shall wash that deeply cankering stain, France, in thy blood and tears: but wash in vain. Not all the flames she kindles in thy land Shall ever brighten that polluted brand. 'Tis retribution, bloody as thy deeds : But who shall pity when a tiger bleeds ? ' WATERLOO. 77 Thou cry for mercy ! was it not denied To every suppliant in thine hour of pride ? Grim laughs th' avenger hanging on thy way, Weary with slaughter, lab'ring still to slay : And unfleshed Belgians hurry down to glean The field where Britain's generous hand had been. To distant skies that hurricane has rolled — But oh ! the wreck is left ! Could tongue unfold The matchless horrors of those cumbered plains, 'Twould chill the current in a warrior's veins. And yet, that field of anguish, brief as keen, Was but the centre of the one wide scene Of human misery. Oh ! who shall say How many wounded spirits, far away, Are left to groan thro' long, chill, bitter years, Beneath the woe that nothing earthly cheers. Shall Glory be the widowed bride's relief? She feels it but a mockery of grief. Shall Glory dry the childless mother's tears ? Harsh grate the notes of Fame upon her ears ! Thine are no Spartan matrons, favoured isle! Gentle as fair ! The sunshine of their smile, Where the proud victor loves to bask, is set, With Sorrow's dew the loveliest cheeks are wet. Throughout the land is gone a mourning voice; And broken are the hearts that should rejoice. Dimly, as yet, the Crown of Victory shines ; Where cypress with the blood-stained laurel twines. But there shall Time the brightest verdure breathe, And pluck the gloomy foilage from her wreath. Then proudly shall posterity retrace, First in the deathless honours of their race, That giant fight, which crushed Napoleon's power, And saved the world. Far distant is the hour Unheard of, yet, the deed our sons must do, That shall eclipse thy glory, Waterloo ! ! ( 78 ) E¥S1$2TC 9 BY THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY, SCHOLAR OF TRINITY COIXF.OE. 1821. Fair hour of Poesy's and Passion's dreams, Of sweetest breezes, and of purest beams, Rich clouds, and twinkling stars, and balmy dews,— Come, loveliest theme, and be thyself my Muse ; Breathe o'er the lay which fondly tells thy praise The splendour of thine own voluptuous rays, The colours of thy bright and varying skies, The music of thine airy melodies. — For I have loved thee, Evening,— I have felt My soul beneath thy gentle influence melt, Which lends to every scene and every tone A mild and pensive softness all its own. The shadows lengthen'd by the sloping light, The gleam which lingers on the purple height; The gale that whispers through the cool arcade, Form'd by the dark-green chesnut's massy shade; The lake which burns one sheet of yellow fire, The knell resounding from the distant spire; The echoes which the circling hills prolong, The raptures of the wild bird's piercing song ; Ev'n the rich music of the mellow horn, Which swells so jocund on the breeze of morn; The blithest sounds, the gayest forms receive A tinge of sadness from the spells of Eve : EVENING. The spirit of sweet melancholy floats O'er all her scenes, and thrills in all her notes, Breathes in the fragrant languor of her sigh, Weeps in her dews, and blushes in her sky. How sweet it is, at that enchanting hour, When earth is fresh with April's sunny shower, To wander through some green and quiet lane, O'erhung by briers and wild-flowers moist with rain; And view the Sun, descending to his rest, Lead his bright triumph down the gorgeous West. Amidst the glories of that radiant sky, Dun wreaths of cloud with crimson dappled lie, Like the dark curls, with roses crown'd, which play Around the brow of some fair queen of May; And dusky streaks on which the sunbeams throw A lurid mellowness, a sullen glow, Whose inky masses seem to fancy's sight Blue hilly isles amidst a sea of light, Rugged with many a crag's fantastic shape, And swelling ridge, and far-projecting cape. — Dyed by the sinking rays the heavens assume A brilliant tint of deep and rosy bloom, The lovely hectic of declining day, Height'ning its charms, and marking its decay: From hue to hue the varying splendours fade, And melt into a pale and saffron shade. At length the cottage windows cease to blaze, And a soft veil of dim and silver haze Floats o'er the watery meadows. All is still Save the faint tinkling of the pebbled rill, Or beetle's drowsy hum, or bat's shrill wail, Or thrilling chaunt of love-lorn nightingale. The stream hath darken'd to a purple hue; The turf is fresh with cool and fragrant dew. — Who loves not then with upward-gazing eye To pore into the wide abyss of sky, 80 PRIZE POEMS. So still, so vast, so colourless, so pure, Clear without light, and without gloom obscure; And here and there to catch some lonely star Twinkling in humid lustre from afar; Or flashing in the West, fair Eve, to see The planet dear to Venus and to thee. Oh! thou whose myrtle grove and od'rous shrine An earlier age adored with rites divine, "When infant Genius tuned the Grecian lyre To hail thee Queen of beauty and desire! Oh! nurse of softest hopes and fondest fears, Of melancholy smiles and rapt'rous tears; Thou phantom which some rich voluptuous mind From all its wealth of glowing thoughts combined; Thou sweet embodied wish, thou loveliest dream That e'er in moonlight sleep, by lilied stream, Bright with all mcm'ry's and all fancy's dyes, Floated before enamour'd Poet's eyes; How justly ancient lore assign'd thy name To yon fair emblem of thy mystic flame, Love's consecrated lamp, which lights from high The vespers of his fond idolatry ! How oft, fair star, have bards been wont to twine, In flowery raptures, beauty's praise with thine, And loveliest eyes gazed fondly on a ray As bright, as dewy, and as soft as they ! But sec the broad and yellow Moon emerge Upon the dim horizon's eastern verge In cold and ghastly beauty. Tree and height, River and plain, are starting into light. — How beautiful its gleams of silver fall On the bright lattice and the flower-clad wall Of snowy cottage, or the gothic tower Of some grey church which tufted yews embower! How fair is yon meek wand'rcr, as she strays Through filmy shades which scarce conceal her blaze, EVENING. Or measures with her cold and pensive eye, From some clear island of cerulean sky, The billowy ocean of pale clouds around O'er which her lone and nightly course is bound ! What marvel then if Man, while heaven denied A hope to cheer him, and a law to guide, Thou pure and radiant orb, adored in thee The source of radiance and of purity? Oft, when along the sweet Campanian bay The latest flush of sunset died away, Th' Italian maid with reverence saw thee shine, Silvering the purple peaks of Apennine; And kneeling on the fragrant turf where played, In quivering fretwork, chequered light and shade, Beneath some vine-clad elm's fantastic boughs, Pour'd forth to thee her blessings and her vows.— No longer from thy hundred altars rise The voice of prayer, the smoke of sacrifice. Citha?ron owns no more her Cynthia's reign, And jackals howl above th' Ephesian fane. Yet Contemplation still delights to gaze On the wan lustre of thy frozen rays, And pay, at that serene and solemn hour, A juster homage to a holier Power. Less gay is Evening when December's breeze Sweeps through the roaring forest's leafless trees In dreary cadence; when th' undazzled eye Beholds, athwart the grey and frosty sky, Stripp'd of his glittering robes and golden crown, The blood-red Sun without a ray sink down. Yet then 'tis sweet to stray in pensive mood Through the dim twilight of the naked wood, Where groaning branches yield a mournful sound, And wither'd leaves in eddies flit around : 'Tis sweet to seek the flickering light and gloom Of the neat fireside and the curtain'd room. 82 PEIZE TOEMS. Tis sweet to listen to the driving rain, The bellowing chimney and the rattling pane ; And sweet it is, at every gust, to raise The glowing embers to a brighter blaze, And mark their quivering lustre glance the while On eyes that sparkle, and on cheeks that smile; On furrow'd brows which now forget to lower, Charm'd by the sorcery of that tranquil hour, And rosy infant lips which fondly press To snatch the willing yet delayed caress. Alas! — no more with England's ancient rites Blithe Christmas* leads along the wintry nights, As when of old his purple visage bluff And pointed cap, and rustling length of ruff, Came forth, with minstrel's song and jester's tale ; And boar's head garlanded, and amber ale, And masquersf decked with bugle horn and bow, And hissing crabs,! and amorous misletoe; While the bright hearth, in joyous concert, roar'd With blazing logs; and o'er the groaning board Of glossy oak the prickly holly spread Its varnish'd foliage and its berries red. Yet joys, perchance as sweet, remain to cheer The sullen evenings of the closing year; The fire-side circle at the close of day; The licensed school-boy's Saturnalian sway; The listed combat of the warrior train In order marshalled on the chequer'd plain. When these in sable, those in argent mail, The chief, the hostile chief alone assail. * This costume of Christmas is taken from the masque in which Ben Jonson has personified the festival. + Robin Hood and his followers were principal characters in the old masquerades of Christmas. I " When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl." — 8/iuJispcre. EVENING. 83 To guard their king with brave devotion fly His serried foot and bounding chivalry; His mitred prelates burn -with martial zeal; His princess grasps her Amazonian steel. — Hard is his heart who views with cynic eyes Those bloodless fights, those tearless victories ; But his far harder, who can coldly turn From the sweet rites of that enchanted urn Whence some terrestrial Hebe deals around The social cups with fragrant nectar crown'd. Thine, gentle Evening, is each power that binds, In mystic harmony, united minds, And lulls to soft repose in verdant bowers, Amidst a glowing paradise of flowers, Of sparkling streams and spicy gales of bliss, The way-worn pilgrims of a world like this. Thine is the tenderness whose blameless joys No guilt pollutes, and no remorse alloys : The rest which soothes the tortured spirit's strife, The fairy Graces of domestic life. Thine is the prayer lisp'd forth, with downcast eye And lifted hands, by kneeling infancy, And thoughts of solemn awe and grateful love, Which link mortality to realms above. Nor less, enchantress, to thy reign belong The mines of science and the flowers of song, And every glorious deed and thought sublime, By virtue, or by Genius, snatch'd from time. I love to trim the taper o'er the page Where lives the mind of Poet or of Sage. Then, as that beauteous and imperial Fay,* Benown'd in many a wild Ausonian lay, Crowds with fair shapes, and paints with glorious dyes The sparkling azure of Sicilian skies: * The Fairy Morgana. VKIZB POEMS. And hangs her pillar'd domes and waving shades, Her terraced streets and marble colonnades, O'er the bright waters of that sapphire sea AVhich laves thy sunny realms, Parthenope; So o'er the soul the Muse's spells diffuse The pomp of graceful forms and lovely hues : Things uncreated, men unborn appear ; The past is present, and the distant near. In long array on Fancy's wond'ring eyes Visions of beauty or of terror rise : The cauldron* mantling with the drugs of hell, The suppliant charms of purest Isabel, f Or that dire huntsman^ whom with shudd'ring awe The love-sick wand'rer of Ravenna saw : Now, led by Milton's mighty hand, she roves Through the dark verdure of primeval groves, By streams that from their crystal bosoms fling The gay profusion of unfading spring: O'er beds of flow'rs, more fail - , more frail than they, She views a form of peerless beauty stray, Tend the gay fragrance of the nuptial shade, And twine her locks with many a dewy braid. The rose-crown'd priest || of love and wine she sees Lead his quaint pageant through the moonlight trees. She roams through proud Duessa's gilded hall ; § She melts in anguish o'er Clarissa's pall. The fabled East pours forth its witching dreams, Sweet as its gales, and gorgeous as its beams : The Gothic Muse recounts, in northern rhyme, The sterner Legends of a sterner clime ; Her tales of trophied lists and rescued maids, Of haunted fountains and enchanted blades. • See "Macbeth." + See "Measure for Measure." J See "Theodore and Ilonoria." || "Comus." j Spenser's "Faery Queen," book i. cnnto 4. EVENING. To graver themes shall wit and mirth succeed And urge the ling'ring hours to fleeter speed: Again Parolles shall seek his luckless drum, And Falstaff jest, and Epicene* be dumb ; The city's championf wield his flaming mace, And dear Sir Roger lead the joyous chace. Come ever thus, sweet Eve, and let thy smile The sorrows and the toils of day beguile ; And as thy starlight dew and cooling breeze Revive the swarthy turf and drooping trees, Paint every sun-burnt flower with richer bloom, And bathe the plains in moisture and perfume; Thus let thy moral charms, with influence kind, Repair the wither'd verdure of the mind; And thus to fresher life, and brighter hue Each languid hope and faded joy renew. » See Ben Jonson's "Silent Woman." + See Fletcher's "Knight of the Burning Pestle." JEt-QjtSrt ( 86 ) 3PJL E? SS ST BE &9 JOHN HENRY BRIGHT, OF ST. JOHN'S COLLEGE. 1822. "Movemur, ucseio quo pacto, ipsis locis, in quibus eorum, quos ad- miranvur, adsunt vestigia." TIME, like a mighty river, deep and strong, In sullen silence rolls his tide along; And all that now upborne upon the wave Kidc swiftly on — the monarch and the slave Shall sink at last beneath the whelming stream, And all that once was life, become a dream ! Go — look on Greece! her glories long have fled, Her ancient spirit slumbers with the dead; Deaf to the call of freedom and of fame, Her sons are Greeks in nothing but the name! On Tiber's banks, beneath their native sky, The sad remains of Roman greatness lie; No longer there the list'ning crowds admire The swelling tones of Virgil's epic lyre, Nor conqu'ring Caesar holds resistless sway O'er realms extended to the rising day.* Yet still to these shall Fancy fondly turn, Still bid the laurel bloom on Maro's urn; * ll