LONGER ENGLISH POEMS LONGER ENGLISH POEMS WITH NOTES PHILOLOGICAL AND EXPLANATORY AND AN INTRODUCTION ON THE TEACHING OF ENGLISH J. W. HALES, M.A. Late Fellow and Assistant Tutor of Christ s College, Cambridge Barrister-at-law of Lincoln's Inn r in English Literature and Classical Composition at King's College School, London Co-editor of BishoJ> Percy's MS. Folio, & c . H o n ir o n MACMILLAN AND CO. AND NEW YORK The Right of Translation and Reproduction is X eSt - * HENCE, loathed Melancholy, * u -u u ^** Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born . ^ u - In Stygian cave forlorn _ w ^^-^'Mongst horrid, shapes and shreiks and sights unholy; a-tt/ ^ Find out som uncouth cell, 5 ^ v - t/ * Wher brooding Darknes spreads his jealous wings, And the night-raven sings; u There, under ebon shades and low-brow'd rocks, \v~* As ragged as thy locks, *> *> - ^ ~ I n dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell. 10 w ^ * * But com > tnou Goddess fair and free, ^ . y In Heav'n ycleap'd Euphrosyne, ^ . ^ - -> - A- n( i ^7 men heart- easing Mirth, \^.P -/ Whom lovely Venus at a birth With two sisters Graces more 15 To ivy-crowned Bacchus bore; Or whether (as som sager sing) The frolick wind that breathes the spring, Zephir with Aurora playing As he met her once a Maying, 20 There on beds of Violet blew And fresh-blown roses washt in dew Fill'd her with thee a daughter fair, So bucksom, blith, and debonair. Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with thee 25 Jest and youthful Jollity, Quips, and Cranks, and wanton Wiles, Nods and Becks, and wreathed Smiles Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek, 30 Sport that wrincled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides. Com, and trip it as ye go On the light fantastick toe, And in thy right hand lead with thee, 35 The mountain nymph, sweet Liberty; MILTON. And, if I give thee honour due, Mirth, admit me of thy crue To live with her, and live with thee, In unreproved pleasures free : 40 To hear the lark begin his flight, And singing startle the dull Night From his watch- to wre in the skies, Till the dappled Dawn doth rise, Then to com in spight of sorrow, 45 And at my window bid good morrow Through the sweetbriar, or the vine, Or the twisted eglantine, While the cock with lively din Scatters the rear of Darknes thin, 50 And to the stack, or the barn dore, Stoutly struts his dames before ; Oft listening how the hounds and horn Chearly rouse the slumbring Morn From the side of som hoar hill, 55 Through the high wood echoing shrill ; Som time walking not unseen By hedge-row elms, on hillocks green, Right against the eastern gate, Wher the great Sun begins his state, 60 Rob'd in flames and amber light, The clouds in thousand liveries dight, While the plowman neer at hand Whistles ore the furrow'd land, And the milkmaid singeth blithe, 65 And the mower whets his si the, And every shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the dale. Streit mine eye hath caught new pleasures. Whilst the lantskip round it measures, 70 Russet lawns and fallows gray, Where the nibling flocks do stray, Mountains on whose barren brest The labouring clowds do often rest, Meadows trim and daisies pide, 75 Shallow brooks and rivers wide. Towers and battlements it sees Boosom'd high in tufted trees, Wher perhaps som beauty lies, 1 6 LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. The cynosure of neighbouring eyes. 80 Hard by, a cottage chimney smokes From betwixt two aged okes, Where Corydon and Thyrsis met Are at their savory dinner set Of hearbs and other country messes, 85 Which the neat-handed Phillis dresses; And then in haste her bowre she leaves, With Thestylis to bind the sheaves, Or, if the earlier season lead, To the tann'd haycock in the mead. 90 Som times with secure delight The upland hamlets will invite, When the merry bells ring round, And the jocond rebecks sound To many a youth and many a maid 95 Dancing in the chequer'd shade ! And young and old com forth to play On a sunshine holyclay, Till the livelong daylight fail ; Then to the spicy nut-brown ale, 100 With stories told of many a feat : How fairy Mab the junkets eat : She was pincht and pull'd, she sed ; And he, by friars lanthorn led, Tells how the drudging goblin swet 105 To ern his cream-bowle duly set, When in one night, ere glimps of morn, His shadowy flale hath thresh'd the corn That ten day-labourers could not end ; Then lies him down the lubbar fend, no And, stretch'd out all the chimney's length, Basks at the fire his hairy strength, And crop-full out of dores he flings, Ere the first cock his mattin rings. Thus don the tales to bed they creep, 115 By whispering windes soon lull'd asleep. Towred cities please us then, And the busie humm of men, Where throngs of knights and barons bold In weeds of Peace high triumphs hold, 1 20 With store of ladies whose bright eies Rain influence, and judge the prise MILTON. 17 Of wit, or arms, while both contend To win her grace whom all commend. There let Hymen oft appear 125 In saffron robe, with taper clear, And Pomp, and Feast, and Revelry, With Mask and antique Pageantry, Such sights as youthful poets dream On summer eeves by haunted stream. 130 Then to the well-trod . stage anon, If Jonson's learned sock be on, Or sweetest Shakespear, Fancies childe, Warble his native wood-notes wilde. And ever against eating cares 135 Lap me in soft Lydian aires Married to immortal Verse, Such as the meeting soul may pierce In notes with many a winding bout Of lincked sweetnes long drawn out 140 With wanton heed and giddy cunning, The melting voice thro' mazes running, Untwisting all the chains that ty The hidden soul of harmony ; That Orpheus self may heave his head 145 From golden slumber on a bed Of heapt Elysian flowres, and hear Such streins as would have won the ear Of Pluto to have quite set fre^ His half-regain'd Eurydice. 150 These delights if thou canst give, Mirth, with thee I mean to live. IL PENSEROSO. HENCE, vain deluding Joyes, The brood of Folly without father bred ! How little you bested, Or fill the fixed mind with all your toyes ! Dwell in som idle brain, And fancies fond with gaudy shapes possess, c LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. As thick and numberless As the gay motes ^that people the sun beams, Or likest hovering dreams, The fickle pensioners of Morpheus train. 10 But hail ! thou Goddes sage and holy ! Hail ! divinest Melancholy ! Whose saintly visage is too bright To hit the sense of human sight, And therefore to our weaker view 15 Ore laid with black, staid Wisdoms hue Black, but such as in esteem Prince Memnons sister might beseem, Or that starr'd Ethiope queen that strove To set her beauties praise above 20 The sea nymphs, and their powers offended ; Yet thou art higher far descended ; Thee bright -haired Vesta long of yore To solitary Saturn bore, His daughter she (in Saturn's raign 25 Such mixture was not held a stain) ; Oft in glimmering bowres and glades He met her, and in secret shades Of woody Ida's inmost grove, While yet there was no fear of Jove. 30 Com, pensive Nun, devout and pure, Sober, stedfast, and demure, All in a robe of darkest grain Flowing with majestick train, And sable stole of Cipres lawn 35 Over thy decent shoulders drawn ! Com, but keep thy wonted state, With eev'n step and musing gate And looks commercing with the skies, Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes ; 40 There held in holy passion still, Forget thy self to marble, till With a sad leaden downward cast Thou fix them on the earth as fast; And joyn with thee calm Peace and Quiet, 45 Spare Fast, that oft with gods doth diet, And hears the Muses in a ring Ay round about Joves altar sing ; And adde to these retired Leasure, MILTON. ig That in trim gardens takes his pleasure; 50 But, first and chiefest, with thee bring Him that yon soars on golden wing, Guiding the fiery-wheeled throne, The cherub Contemplation ; And the mute Silence hist along, 55 'Less Philomel will daign a song, In her sweetest, saddest plight, Smoothing the rugged brow of Night, While Cynthia checks her dragon yoke Gently o're th' accustom' d oke. 60 Sweet bird, that shunn'st the noise of folly, Most musicall, most melancholy ! Thee, chauntress, oft the woods among I woo to hear thy eeven-song ; And missing thee, I walk unseen 65 On the dry, smooth-shaven green, To behold the wandring moon Riding neer her highest noon, Like one that had bin led astray Through the Heav'ns wide pathles way, 70 And oft, as if her head she bow'd, Stooping through a fleecy cloud. Oft on a plat of rising ground, I hear the far off curfeu sound, Over som wide-water'd shoar 75 Swinging slow with sullen roar; Or, if the ayr will not permit, Som still removed place will fit, Where glowing embers through the room Teach Light to counterfeit a gloom, 80 Far from all resort of mirth, Save the cricket on the hearth, Or the belman's drousie charm To bless the dores from nightly harm; Or let my lamp at midnight hour 85 Be seen in some high lonely towr, Where I may oft out-watch the Bear With thrice great Hermes, or unsphear The spirit of Plato to unfold What worlds or what vast regions hold 90 The immortal mind that hath forsook Her mansion in this fleshly nook, C 2 LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. And of those daemons that are found In fire, air, flood, or under ground, Whose power hath a true consent 95 With planet, or with element. Som time let gorgeous Tragedy In scepter'd pall com sweeping by, Presenting Thebs or Pelops line Or the tale of Troy divine, 100 Or what (though rare) of later age Ennobled hath the buskind stage. But, O sad Virgin, that thy power Might raise Musseus from his bower, Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing 105 Such notes as warbled to the string Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek, And made Hell grant what Love did seek. Or call up him that left half told The story of Cambuscan bold, no Of Camball and of Algarsife, And who had Canace to wife, That own'd the vertuous ring and glass, And of the wondrous hors of brass On which the Tartar king did ride; 115 And if ought els great bards beside In sage and solemn tunes have sung, Of turneys and of trophies hung, Of forests and inchantments drear, Where more is meant than meets the ear. 120 Thus, Night, oft see me in thy pale career Till civil-suited Morn appeer, Not trickt and frounc't as she was wont With the Attick boy to hunt, But cherchef't in a comely cloud 125 While rocking winds are piping loud, Or usher'd with a shower still When the gust hath blown his fill, Ending on the russling leaves With minute drops from off the eaves. 130 And when the sun begins to fling His flaring beams, me, Goddess, bring To arched walks of twilight groves, And shadows brown that Sylvan loves Of pine and monumental oake, 135 MILTON. Where the rude ax with heaved stroke Was never heard the nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from their hallow'd haunt ; There in close covert by som brook, Where no profaner eye may look, 140 Hide me from Day's garish eie, While the bee with honied thie, That at her flowry work doth sing, And the waters murmuring, With such consort as they keep, 145 Entice the dewy-feather'd sleep ; And let som strange mysterious dream Wave at his wings in aiiy stream Of lively portrature display'd, Softly on my eyelids laid; 150 And, as I wake, sweet musick breathe Above, about, or underneath, Sent by som spirit to mortals good, Or th' unseen Genius of the wood. But let my due feet never fail 155 To walk the studious cloysters pale, And love the high embowed roof, With antick pillars massy proof, And storied windows richly dight Casting a dimm religious light. 160 There let the pealing organ blow To the full voic'd quire below In service high and anthems cleer, As may with sweetnes, through mine ear, Dissolve me into extasies, 165 And bring all Heav'n before mine eyes. And may at last my weary age Find out the peacefull hermitage, The hairy gown and mossy cell, Where I may sit and rightly spell 170 Of every star that Heav'n doth shew And every herb that sips the dew ; Till old Experience do attain To somthing like prophetic strain. These pleasures, Melancholy, give, 1 75 And I with thee will choose to live. LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. LYCIDAS. YET once more, O ye Laurels, and once more, Ye Myrtles brown, with Ivy never sear, I com to pluck your berries harsh and crude, And with forc'd fingers rude Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year. 5 Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear Compels me to disturb your season due ; For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime, Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer. Who would not sing for Lycidas ? he knew 10 Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme. He must not flote upon his watry bear Unwept, and welter to the parching wind Without the meed of some melodious tear. Begin then, Sisters of the Sacred Well, 15 That from beneath the seat of Jove doth spring, Begin, and somwhat loudly sweep the string. Hence with denial vain and coy excuse ; So may som gentle Muse With lucky words favour my destin'd urn, 20 And, as he passes, turn And bid fair peace be to my sable shrowd ; For we were nurst upon the self-same hill, Fed the same flock, by fountain, shade, and rill ; Together both, ere the high lawns appear'd 25 Under the opening eyelids of the Morn, We drove a field, and both together heard What time the gray- fly winds her sultry horn, Batt'ning our flocks with the fresh dews of night, Oft till the star that rose at ev'ning bright 30 Towards Heav'ns descent had slop'd his westering wheel. Mean while the rural ditties were not mute, Temper'd to th' oaten flute, Rough Satyrs danc'd, and Fauns with clov'n heel From the glad sound would not be absent long, 35 And old Damsetas lov'd to hear our song. MILTON. 23 But O the heavy change, now thou art gon, Now thou art gon, and never must return ! Thee, Shepherd, thee the woods, and desert caves With wilde thyme and the gadding vine o'regrown 40 And all their echoes mourn. The willows and the hazle copses green Shall now no more be seen Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft layes. As killing as the canker to the rose, 45 Or taint- worm to the weanling herds that graze, Or frost to flowers, that their gay wardrop wear When first the white thorn blows: Such, Lycidas, thy loss to shepherds ear. Where were ye, Nymphs, when the remorseless deep 50 Clos'd o're the head of your lov'd Lycidas? For neither were ye playing on the steep Where your old bards, the famous Druids ly, Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high, Nor yet where Deva spreads her wisard stream. 55 Ay me ! I fondly dream ! Had ye bin there for what could that have don? What could the Muse her self that Orpheus bore, The Muse her self, for her inchanting son, Whom universal Nature did lament, 60 When by the rout that made the hideous roar His goary visage down the stream was sent, Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore ? Alas ! what boots it with uncessant care To tend the homely slighted shepherds trade, 65 And strictly meditate the thankless Muse ? Were it not better don, as others use, To sport with Amaryllis in the shade, Or with the tangles of Nesera's hair? Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise 7 (That last infirmity of noble mind) To scorn delights, and live laborious dayes ; But the fair guerdon when we hope to find, And think, to burst out into sudden blaze, Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears, 75 And slits the thin-spun life. But not the praise, Phoebus repli'd, and touch'd my trembling ears ; Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil, Nor in the glistering foil 24 LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. Set off to th' world, nor in broad Rumour lies, 80 But lives and spreds aloft by those pure eyes, And perfet witnes of all-judging Jove ; As he pronounces lastly on each deed, Of so much fame in Heav'n expect thy meed. O fountain Arethuse, and thou honour'd flood, 85 Smooth-sliding Mincius, crown'd with vocall reeds, That strain I heard was of a higher mood ; But now my oat proceeds, And listens to the herald of the sea That came in Neptune's plea. ox> He ask'd the waves, and ask'd the fellon winds, What hard mishap hath doom'd this gentle swain? And question'd every gust of rugged wings That blows from off each beaked promontory ; They knew not of his story, 0,5 And sage Hippotades their answer brings : That not a blast was from his dungeon stray'd, The air was calm, and on the level brine Sleek Panope with all her sisters play'd. It was that fatal and perfidious bark 100 Built in th' eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark, That sunk so low that sacred head of thine. Next Camus, reverend sire, went footing slow, His mantle hairy and his bonnet sedge Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge 105 Like to that sanguine flower inscrib'd with woe. Ah ! who hath reft (quoth he) my dearest pledge ? Last came, and last did go, The pilot of the Galilean lake; Two massy keyes he bore of metals twain no (The golden opes, the iron shuts amain) ; He shook his miter' d locks, and stern bespake : How well could I have spar'd for thee, young Swain, Anow of such as for their bellies sake Creep, and intrude, and climb into the fold? 115 Of other care they little reck'ning make Then how to scramble at the shearers feast, And shove away the worthy bidden guest; Blind mouthes ! that scarce themselves know how to hold A sheep -hook, or have learn'd ought els the least 120 That to the faithfull herdsmans art belongs ! What reeks it them? What need they? they are sped; MILTON. 25 And when they list their lean and flashy songs Grate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw ; The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed, 125 "But swoln with wind, and the rank mist they draw, Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread; Besides what the grim woolf with privy paw Daily devours apace, and nothing sed ; But that two-handed engine at the door 130 Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more. Return, Alpheus, the dread voice is past That shrunk thy streams ; return, Sicilian Muse, And call the vales, and bid them hither cast Their bels, and flourets of a thousand hues. 135 Ye valleys low, where the milde whispers use Of shades, and wanton winds, and gushing brooks, On whose fresh lap the swart star sparely looks, ^v^wvo Throw hither all your quaint enameld eyes, That on the green terf suck the honied showres, 140 And purple all the ground with vernal flowres. Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies, The tufted crow-toe, and pale gessamine, The white pink, and the pansie freakt with jeat, The glowing violet, 145 The musk-rose, and the well-attir'd woodbine, With cowslips wan that hang the pensive hed, And every flower that sad embroidery wears ; Bid Amaranthus all his beauty shed, And daffadillies fill their cups with tears, 150 To strew the laureat herse where Lycid lies. For, so to interpose a little ease, Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise, Ay me ! whilst thee the shores and sounding seas Wash far away, where ere thy bones are hurl'd, 155 Whether beyond the stormy Hebrides, Where thou perhaps, under the whelming tide, Visit'st the bottom of the monstrous world, Or whether thou to our moist vows deny'd Sleep'st by the fable of Bellerus old, l6 Where the great vision of the guarded mount Looks toward Namancos and Bayona's hold ; Look homeward, angel, now, and melt with ruth ; And, O ye Dolphins, waft the haples youth. Weep no more, woful shepherds, weep no more, 165 26 LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. For Lycidas your sorrow is not dead, Sunk though he be beneath the watry floar ; So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore 170 Flames in the forehead of the morning sky. So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high, Through the dear might of Him that walk'd the waves, Where other groves and other streams along, With nectar pure his oozy lock's he laves, 175 And hears the unexpressive nuptiall song In the blest kingdoms meek of Joy and Love. There entertain him all the saints above In solemn troops and sweet societies, That sing, and singing in their glory move, 180 And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes. Now, Lycidas, the shepherds weep no more ; Henceforth thou art the genius of the shore, In thy large recompense, and shalt be good To all that wander in that perilous flood. 185 Thus sang the uncouth swain to th' okes and rills, While the still Morn went out with sandals grey ; He touch'd the tender stops of various quills, With eager thought warbling his Dorick lay ; And now the sun had stretch'd out all the hills, 19 And now was dropt into the western bay ; At last he rose, and twitch'd his mantle blew ; To-morrow to fresh woods and pastures new. DRYDEN. 27 DRYDEN. MAC FLECKNOE. ALL humane things are subject to decay, And, when Fate summons, monarchs must obey. This Flecknoe found, who, like Augustus, young Was call'd to empire and had govern'd long, In prose and verse was owned without dispute 5 Through all the realms of Nonsense absolute. This aged prince, now flourishing in peace And blest with issue of a large increase, Worn out with business, did at length debate To settle the succession of the state ; 10 And pond'ring which of all his sons was fit To reign and wage immortal war with wit, Cry'd, " 'Tis resolved, for Nature pleads that he " Should onely rule who most resembles me. " Shad well alone my perfect image bears, 15 * ' Mature in dulness from his tender years ; " Shadwell alone of all my sons is he " Who stands confirm'd in full stupidity. "The rest to some faint meaning make pretence, "But Shadwell never deviates into sense. 20 " Some beams of wit on other souls may fall, " Strike through and make a lucid intervall ; "But Shadwell's genuine night admits no ray, "His rising fogs prevail upon the day. " Besides, his goodly fabrick fills the eye 25 "And seems designed for thoughtless majesty, "Thoughtless as monarch oakes that shade the plain " And, spread in solemn state, supinely reign. 28 LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. " Hey wood and Shirley were but types of thee, "Thou last great prophet of tautology. 30 " Even I, a dunce of more renown than they, " Was sent before but to prepare thy way, " And coursly clad in Norwich drugget came "To teach the nations in thy greater name. "My warbling lute, the lute I whilom strung 35 " When to King John of Portugal I sung, " Was but the prelude to that glorious day, " When thou on silver Thames did'st cut thy way, * ' With well-tim'd oars before the royal barge, " Swell' d with the pride of thy celestial charge, 40 " And, big with hymn, commander of an host ; " The like was ne'er in Epsom blankets tost. " Methinks I see the new Arion sail, ' ' The lute still trembling underneath thy nail. "At thy well-sharpned thumb from shore to shore 45 "The treble squeaks for fear, the basses roar; " About thy boat the little fishes throng, "As at the morning toast that floats along. " Sometimes, as prince of thy harmonious band, 4 ' Thou weildst thy papers in thy threshing hand. 50 " St. Andre's feet ne'er kept more equal time, "Not ev'n the feet of thy own 'Psyche's' rhyme, * ' Though they in number as in sense excell ; "So just, so like tautology, they fell "That, pale with envy, Singleton forswore 55 "The lute and sword which he in triumph bore, " And vowed he ne'er would act Villerius more." Here stopped the good old syre and wept for joy, In silent raptures of the hopefull boy. All arguments, but most his plays, perswade 60 That for anointed dulness he was made. Close to the walls which fair Augusta bind, (The fair Augusta much to fears inclin'd,) An ancient fabrick rais'd to inform the sight There stood of yore, and Barbican it hight ; 65 A watch-tower once, but now, so fate ordains, Of all the pile an empty name remains. Near it a Nursery erects its head, Where queens are formed and future hero's bred, Where unfledged actors learn to laugh and cry, 70 And little Maximins the gods defy. DR YDEN. 29 Great Fletcher never treads in buskins here, Nor greater Jonson dares in socks appear ; But gentle Simkin just reception finds Amidst this monument of vanisht minds , 75 Pure clinches the suburbian muse affords And Panton waging harmless war with words. Here Flecknoe, as a place to fame well known, Ambitiously designed his Shad well's throne. For ancient Decker prophesi'd long since 80 That in this pile should reign a mighty prince, Born for a scourge of wit and flayle of sense, To whom true dulness should some " Psyches " owe, But worlds of "Misers" from his pen should flow; " Humorists" and Hypocrites it should produce, 85 Whole Raymond families and tribes of Bruce. Now empress Fame had publisht the renown Of Shadwell's coronation through the town. Rows'd by report of fame, the nations meet From near Bunhill and distant Watling-street. 90 No Persian carpets spread th' imperial way, But scattered limbs of mangled poets lay ; Much Heywood, Shirley, Ogleby there lay, But loads of Shadwell almost choakt the way. Bilkt stationers for yeomen stood prepar'd 95 And Herringman was captain of the guard. The hoary prince in majesty appear'd, High on a throne of his own labours rear'd. At his right hand our young Ascanius sat, Rome's other hope and pillar of the state. 100 His brows thick fogs instead of glories grace, And lambent dulness plaied around his face. As Hannibal did to the altars come, Sworn by his syre a mortal foe to Rome : So Shadwell swore, nor should his vow be vain, 105 That he till death true dulness would maintain, And, in his father's right and realms defence, Ne'er to have peace with wit nor truce with sense. The king himself the sacred unction made, As king by office and as priest by trade. no In his sinister hand, instead of ball, He plac'd a mighty mug of potent ale ; "Love's Kingdom" to his right he did convey, At once his sceptre and his rule of sway ; 30 LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. Whose righteous lore the prince had practis'd young 115 And from whose loyns recorded "Psyche" sprung. His temples, last, with poppies were o'erspread, That nodding seemed to consecrate his head. Just at that point of time, if fame not lye, On his left hand twelve reverend owls did fly. 120 So Romulus, 'tis sung, by Tyber's brook, Presage of sway from twice six vultures took. The admiring throng loud acclamations make, And omens of his future empire take. The syre then shook the honours of his head, 125 And from his brows damps of oblivion shed Full on the filial dulness ; long he stood, Repelling from his breast the raging God ; At length burst out in this prophetick mood : "Heavens bless my son! from Ireland let him reign 130 "To far Barbadoes on the western main; * ' Of his dominion may no end be known "And greater than his father's be his throne; "Beyond * Love's Kingdom' let him stretch his pen!" He paus'd, and all the people cry'd "Amen." 135 Then thus continu'd he: "My son, advance " Still in new impudence, new ignorance. "Success let others teach, learn thou from me " Pangs without birth and fruitless industry. "Let * Virtuoso's' in five years be writ, 140 ' ' Yet not one thought accuse thy toil of wit. " Let gentle George in triumph tread the stage, " Make Dorimant betray, and Loveit rage ; " Let Cully, Cock wood, Fopling, charm the pit, " And in their folly show the writers wit. 145 " Yet still thy fools shall stand in thy defence " And justify their author's want of sense. " Let 'em be all by thy own model made " Of dulness, and desire no foreign aid, " That they to future ages may be known, 150 " Not copies drawn, but issue of thy own. " Nay, let thy men of wit too be the same, " All full of thee and differing but in name. " But let no alien Sedley interpose " To lard with wit thy hungry Epsom prose. 155 " And when false flowers of rhetoric thou would'st cull, " Trust nature, do not labour to be dull ; DRYDEN. " But write thy best and top; and in each line " Sir Formal's oratory will be thine. " Sir Formal, though unsought, attends thy quill 1 60 " And does thy northern dedications fill. " Nor let false friends seduce thy mind to fame " By arrogating Jonson's hostile name; " Let father Flecknoe fire thy mind with praise " And uncle Ogleby thy envy raise. 165 " Thou art my blood, where Jonson has no part ; " What share have we in nature or in art? " Where did his wit on learning fix a brand " And rail at arts he did not understand? " Where made he love in Prince Nicander's vein 170 " Or swept the dust in Psyche's humble strain? " When did his Muse from Fletcher scenes purloin, " As thou whole Etheridge dost transfuse to thine? " But so transfused as oil on waters flow, " His always floats above, thine sinks below. 175 " This is thy province, this thy wondrous way, " New humours to invent for each new play : " This is that boasted byas of thy mind, " By which one way to dulness 'tis inclined, " Which makes thy writings lean on one side still 180 " And, in all changes, that way bends thy will. " Nor let thy mountain belly make pretence " Of likeness ; thine's a tympany of sense. " A tun of man in thy large bulk is writ, " But sure thou'rt but a kilderkin of wit. 185 * * Like mine, thy gentle numbers feebly creep ; '* Thy tragic Muse gives smiles, thy comic sleep. " With whatever gall thou sett'st thy self to write, " Thy inoffensive satyrs never bite ; " In thy fellonious heart though venom lies, 190 " It does but touch thy Irish pen, and dyes. " Thy genius calls thee not to purchase fame " In keen lambicks, but mild Anagram. " Leave writing plays, and choose for thy command " Some peacefull province in Acrostick land. 195 " There thou may'st wings display and altars raise, " And torture one poor word ten thousand ways; " Or, if thou would'st thy difT'rent talents suit, " Set thy own songs, and sing them to thy lute." He said, but his last words were scarcely heard, 200 32 LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. For Bruce and Longville had a trap prepared, And down they sent the yet declaiming bard. Sinking he left his drugget robe behind, Born upwards by a subterranean wind. The mantle fell to the young prophet's part 205 With double portion of his father's art. A SONG FOR ST. CECILIA'S DAY. FROM harmony, from heav'nly harmony This universal frame began. When Nature underneath a heap Of jarring atoms lay, And cou'd not heave her head, The tuneful voice was heard from high : Arise, ye more than dead. Then cold and hot and moist and dry In order to their stations leap, And Mustek's pow'r obey. From harmony, from heav'nly harmony This universal frame began; From harmony to harmony Through all the compass of the notes it ran, The diapason closing full in Man. 2. What passion cannot Musick raise and quell? When Jubal struck the corded shell, His list'ning brethren stood around, And, wond'ring, on their faces fell To worship that celestial sound; Less than a god they thought there cou'd not dwell Within the hollow of that shell, That spoke so sweetly, and so well. What passion cannot Music raise and quell? DRYDEN. 33 3- The trumpets loud clangor 25 Excites us to arms With shrill notes of anger And mortal alarms. The double double double beat Of the thundering drum 30 Cries, heark : the foes come ! Charge, charge, 'tis too late to retreat ! 4- The soft complaining flute In dying notes discovers The woes of hopeless lovers, 35 Whose dirge is whisper'd by the warbling lute. 5- Sharp violins proclaim Their jealous pangs and desperation, Fury, frantick indignation, Depth of pains and height of passion, 40 For the fair, disdainful dame. But oh! what art can teach, What human voice can reach The sacred organs praise? Notes inspiring holy love, 45 Notes that wing their heav'nly ways To mend the choires above. 7- Orpheus cou'd lead the savage race, And trees unrooted left their place, Sequacious of the lyre ; But bright Cecilia rais'd the wonder high'r: When to her organ vocal breath was giv'n ; An angel heard, and straight appear'd, Mistaking earth for heav'n, D 34 LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. GRAND CHORUS. As from the pow'r of sacred lays 55 The spheres began to move, And sung the great Creator's praise To all the bless'd above: So, when the last and dreadful hour This crumbling pageant shall devour, 60 The trumpet shall be heard on high, The dead shall live, the living die, And Musick shall untune the sky. ALEXANDER'S FEAST; OR, THE POWER OF MUSIC. 'TWAS at the royal feast for Persia won By Philip's warlike son. Aloft in awful state The godlike hero sate On his imperial throne ; His valiant peers were plac'd around, Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound ; (So shou'd desert in arms be crown'd.) The lovely Thais, by his side, Sate like a blooming Eastern bride, In flow'r of youth and beauty's pride. Happy, happy, happy pair ! None but the brave, None but the brave, None but the brave deserves the fair. 2. Timotheus, plac'd on high Amid the tuneful quire, With flying fingers touch'd the lyre ; The trembling notes ascend the sky, And heav'nly joys inspire. DRYDEN. 35 The song began from Jove, Who left his blissful seats above, (Such is the pow'r of mighty love.) A dragon's fiery form bely'd the god ; Sublime on radiant spires he rode, 25 When he to fair Olympia press'd, And while he sought her snowy breast ; Then round her slender waste he curl'd, And stamp'd an image of himself, a sov'raign of the world. The listening crowd admire the lofty sound, ?o A present deity, they shout around ; A present deity, the vaulted roofs rebound. With ravish'd ears The monarch hears, Assumes the god, 35 Affects to nod, And seems to shake the spheres. 3- The praise of Bacchus then the sweet musician sung, Of Bacchus ever fair, and ever young. The jolly god in triumph comes ; 40 Sound the trumpets, beat the drums ; Flush'd with a purple grace He shews his honest face ; Now give the hautboys breath ; he comes, he comes. Bacchus, ever fair and young, 45 Drinking joys did first ordain ; Bacchus blessings are a treasure, Drinking is the soldier's pleasure ; Rich the treasure, Sweet the pleasure, 50 Sweet is pleasure after pain. 4- Sooth'd with the sound the king grew vain ; Fought all his battails o'er again ; And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he slew the slain. The master saw the madness rise, 55 His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes ; And while he heaven and earth defy'd, Chang'd his hand, and check'd his pride. 36 LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. He chose a mournful Muse, Soft pity to infuse ; 60 He sung Darius great and good. By too severe a fate Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen, Fallen from his high estate, And weltring in his blood. 65 Deserted at his utmost need By those his former bounty fed, On the bare earth expos' d he lyes, With not a friend to close his eyes. With downcast looks the joyless victor sate, 7 Revolveing in his alter'd soul The various turns of chance below : And, now and then, a sigh he stole, And tears began to flow. The mighty master smil'd to see 75 That love was in the next degree ; 'Twas but a kindred sound to move, For pity melts the mind to love. Softly sweet, in Lydian measures, Soon he sooth' d his soul to pleasures. 80 War, he sung, is toil and trouble, Honour but an empty bubble, Never ending, still beginning, Fighting still, and still destroying; If the world be worth thy winning, 85 Think, O think it worth enjoying ; Lovely Thais sits beside thee, Take the good the gods provide thee. The many rend the skies with loud applause ; So Love was crown'd, but Musique won the cause. tjo The prince, unable to conceal his pain, Gaz'd on the, fair Who caus'd his care, And sigh'd and look'd, sigh'd and look'd, Sighed and looked, and sighed again ; 95 At length, with love and wine at once oppress'd, The vanquish'd victor sunk upon her breast. DRYDEN. 37 6. Now strike the golden lyre again ; A lowder yet, and yet a lowder strain. Break his bands of sleep : asunder, I OG And rouze him, like a rattling peal of thunder. Hark, hark, the horrid sound Has rais'd up his head ; As awak'd from the dead, And amaz'd, he stares around. 105 Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries, See the Furies arise ; See the snakes that they rear, How they hiss in their hair, And the sparkles that flash from their eyes ! no Behold a ghastly band, Each a torch in his hand ! Those are Grecian ghosts, that in battail were slayn, And unbury'd remain Inglorious on the plain ; 1 1 ^ Give the vengeance due To the valiant crew. Behold how they toss their torches on high, How they point to the Persian abodes, And glitt'ring temples of their hostile gods. 1 20 The princes applaud with a furious joy ; And the king seyz'd a flambeau with zeal to destroy ; Thais led the way, To light him to his prey, And, like another Hellen, fir'd another Troy. 125 Thus long ago, 'Ere heaving bellows learn'd to blow, While organs yet were mute, Timotheus, to his breathing flute And sounding lyre, 130 Cou'd swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire. At last divine Cecilia came, Inventress of the vocal frame ; The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store, Enlarg'd the former narrow bounds, 135 38 LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. And added length to solemn sounds, With Nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before. Let old Timotheus yield the prize, Or both divide the crown : He rais'd a mortal to the skies : 140 She drew an angel down. POPE. 39 POPE. RAPE OF THE LOCK. WHAT dire offence from am'rous causes springs, What mighty contests rise from trivial things, I sing. This verse to CARYL, Muse ! is due ; This, ev'n Belinda may vouchsafe to view; Slight is the subject, but not so the praise, 5 If She inspire, and He approve my lays. Say what strange motive, Goddess! could compel A well-bred Lord t' assault a gentle Belle? O say what stranger cause, yet unexplor'd, Cou'd make a gentle Belle reject a Lord? 10 In tasks so bold, can little men engage? And in soft bosoms dwells such mighty Rage? Sol thro' white curtains shot a tim'rous ray, And op'd those eyes that must eclipse the day; Now lap-dogs give themselves the rousing shake, 15 And sleepless lovers, just at twelve, awake; Thrice rung the bell, the slipper knock'd the ground, And the press'd watch return'd a silver sound. Belinda still her downy pillow prest, Her guardian SYLPH prolong'd the balmy rest. 20 'Twas he had summon'd to her silent bed The morning dream that hover'd o'er her head ; A Youth more glitt'ring than a Birth-night Beau, (That ev'n in slumber caused her cheek to glow) Seem'd to her ear his winning lips to lay, 25 And thus in whispers said, or seem'd to say: " Fairest of mortals, thou distinguish'd care Of thousand bright Inhabitants of Air! 40 LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. If e'er one vision touch'd thy infant thought, Of all the Nurse and all the Priest have taught 30 Of airy Elves by moonlight shadows seen, The silver token, and the circled green, Or virgins visited by Angel pow'rs, With golden crowns and wreaths of heav'nly flow'rs Hear and believe! thy own importance know, 35 Nor bound thy narrow views to things below. Some secret truths, from learned pride conceal' d, To Maids alone and Children are reveal'd. What tho' no credit doubting Wits may give? The Fair and Innocent shall still believe. 40 Know, then, unnumber'd Spirits round thee fly, The light Militia of the lower sky; These, tho' unseen, are ever on the wing, Hang o'er the Box, and hover round the Ring. Think what an equipage thou hast in Air, 45 And view with scorn two Pages and a Chair. As now your own, our beings were of old, And once inclos'd in Woman's beauteous mould ; Thence, by a soft transition, we repair From earthly Vehicles to these of air. 50 Think not, when Woman's transient breath is fled, That all her vanities at once are dead; Succeeding vanities she still regards, And tho' she plays no more, o'erlooks the cards. Her joy in gilded Chariots, when alive, 55 And love of Ombre, after death survive. For when the Fair in all their pride expire, To their first Elements their Souls retire. The Sprites of fiery Termagants in Flame Mount up, and take a Salamander's name. 60 Soft yielding minds to Water glide away, And sip, with Nymphs, tWeir elemental Tea. The graver Prude sinks downward to a Gnome, In search of mischief still on Earth to roam. The light Coquettes in Sylphs aloft repair, 65 And sport and flutter in the fields of Air. Know farther yet : whoever fair and chaste Rejects mankind, is by some Sylph embrac'd; For Spirits, freed from mortal laws, with ease Assume what sexes and what shapes they please. 70 What guards the purity of melting Maids, POPE. 41 In courtly balls and midnight masquerades, Safe from the treach'rous friend, the daring spark, The glance by day, the whisper in the dark, When kind occasion prompts their warm desires, 75 When music softens, and when dancing fires ? J Tis but their Sylph, the wise Celestials know, Tho' Honour is the word with Men below. Some nymphs there are too conscious of their face, For life predestin'd to the Gnomes embrace., 80 These swell their prospects and exalt their pride, When offers are disdain'd, and love deny'd; Then gay Ideas crowd the vacant brain, While Peers, and Dukes, and all their sweeping train, And Garters, Stars, and Coronets appear, 85 And in soft sounds, Your Grace salutes their ear. 'Tis these that early taint the female soul, Instruct the eyes of young Coquettes to roll> Teach Infant-cheeks a bidden blush to know, And little hearts to flutter at a Beau. 90 Oft', when the world imagine women stray, The Sylphs thro' mystic mazes guide their way; Thro' all the giddy circle they pursue, And old impertinence expel by new. What tender maid but must a victim fall 95 To one man's treat, but for another's ball? When Florio speaks what virgin could withstand, If gentle Damon did not squeeze her hand ? With varying vanities, from ev'ry part, They shift the moving Toyshop of their heart, 100 Where wigs with wigs, with sword-knots sword-knots strive, Beaus banish beaus, and coaches coaches drive. This erring mortals Levity may call; Oh blind to truth ! the Sylphs contrive it all. Of these am I, who thy protection claim, 105 A watchful sprite, and Ariel is my name. Late, as I rang'd the crystal wilds of air, In the clear Mirror of thy ruling Star I saw, alas ! some dread event impend, E're to the main this morning sun descend, no But heav'n reveals not what, or how, or where. Warn'd by the Sylph, oh pious maid, beware ! This to disclose is all thy guardian can: Beware of all, but most beware of Man ! " > 42 LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. He said; when Shock, who thought she slept too long, 115 Leap'd up, and wak'd his mistress with his tongue. 7 Twas then, Belinda ! if report say true, Thy eyes first open'd on a Billet-doux; Wounds, Charms, and Ardors were no sooner read, But all the Vision vanished from thy head. 120 And now, unveil' d, the Toilet stands displayed, Each silver Vase in mystic order laid. First, rob'd in white, the Nymph intent adores, With head uncovered, the Cosmetic pow'rs. A heav'nly image in the glass appears; 125 To that she bends, to that her eyes she rears. Th' inferior Priestess, at her altar's side, Trembling begins the sacred rites of Pride. Unnumber'd treasures ope at once, and here The various offerings of the world appear; 130 From each she nicely culls with curious toil, And decks the Goddess with the glitt'ring spoil. This casket India's glowing gems unlocks, And all Arabia breaths from yonder box; The Tortoise here and Elephant unite, 135 Transformed to combs, the speckled, and the white. Here files of pins extend their shining rows, Puffs, Powders, Patches, Bibles, Billet-doux. Now awful Beauty puts on all its arms; The fair each moment rises in her charms, 340 Repairs her smiles, awakens ev'ry grace, And calls forth all the wonders of her face ; Sees by degrees a purer blush arise, And keener lightnings quicken in her eyes. The busy Sylphs surround their darling care, 145 These set the head, and those divide the hair, Some fold the sleeve, whilst others plait the gown; And Betty's prais'd for labours not her own. CANTO II. NOT with more glories, in th* etherial plain, The Sun first rises o'er the purpled main, 150 Than, issuing forth, the rival of his beams Lanch'd on the bosom of the silver Thames. Fair Nymphs, and well-dresst Youths around her shone, POPE. 43 But ev'ry eye was fix'd on her alone. , On her white breast a sparkling Cross she wore, 155 Which Jews might kiss, and Infidels adore. Her lively looks a sprightly mind disclose, Quick as her eyes, and as unfix' d as those. Favours to none, to all she smiles extends; Oft' she rejects, but never once offends. 160 Bright as the sun, her eyes the gazers strike, And, like the sun, they shine on all alike. Yet graceful ease, and sweetness void of pride, Might hide her faults, if Belles had faults to hide; If to her share some female errors fall, 165 Look on her face, and you'll forget 'em all. This Nymph, to the destruction of mankind, Nourish'd two Locks, which graceful hung behind In equal curls, and well conspir'd to deck With shining ringlets the smooth iv'ry neck. 170 Love in these labyrinths his slaves detains, And mighty hearts are held in slender chains. With hairy sprindges we the birds betray, Slight lines of hair surprize the finny prey, Fair tresses man's imperial race insnare, 175 And beauty draws us with a single hair. Th J advent'rous Baron the bright locks admir'd; He saw, he wish'd, and to the prize aspir'd. Resolv'd to win, he meditates the way, By force to ravish, or by fraud betray; 1 80 For when success a Lover's toil attends, Few ask, if fraud or force attain'd his ends. For this, e'er Phoebus rose, he had implor'd Propitious heav'n, and ev'ry pow'r ador'd, But chiefly Love to Love an Altar built 185 Of twelve vast French Romances, neatly gilt. There lay three garters, half a pair of gloves; And all the trophies of his former loves ; With tender Billet-doux he lights the pyre, And breathes three am'rous sighs to raise the fire. 190 Then prostrate falls, and begs with ardent eyes Soon to obtain, and long possess the prize: The pow'rs gave ear, and granted half his pray'r ; The rest the winds dispers'd in empty air. But now secure the painted vessel glides, .. 195 The sun-beams trembling on the floating tydes, 44 LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. While melting music steals upon the sky, And soften'd sounds along the waters die. Smooth flow the waves, the Zephyrs gently play, Belinda smil'd, and all the world was gay, 200 All but the Sylph ; with careful thoughts opprest, Th' impending woe sat heavy on his breast. He summons strait his Denizens of air ; The lucid squadrons round the sails repair : Soft o'er the shrouds aerial whispers breath, 205 That seem'd but Zephyrs to the train beneath. Some to the sun their insect-wings unfold, Waft on the breeze, or sink in clouds of gold ; Transparent forms, too fine for mortal sight, Their fluid bodies half dissolv'd in light, 210 Loose to the wind their airy garments flew, Thin glitt'ring textures of the filmy dew, Dipt in the richest tincture of the skies, Where light disports in ever-mingling dyes, While ev'ry beam new transient colours flings, 215 Colours that change whene'er they wave their wings, Amid the circle, on the gilded mast, Superior by the head, was Ariel plac'd; His purple pinions opening to the sun, He raised his azure wand, and thus begun : 220 \J " Ye Sylphs and Sylphids, to your chief give ear! Fays, Fairies, Genii, Elves, and Daemons, hear ! Ye know the spheres and various tasks assigned By laws eternal to th' aerial kind. Some in the fields of purest ^Ether play, 225 And bask and whiten in the blaze of day. Some guide the course of wandring orbs on high, Or roll the planets thro' the boundless sky; Some, less refin'd, beneath the moon's pale light Pursue the stars that shoot athwart the night, 236 Or suck the mists in grosser air below, Or dip their pinions in the painted bow, Or brew fierce tempests on the wintry main, Or o'er the glebe distill the kindly rain. Others on earth o'er humane race preside, 235 Watch all their ways, and all their actions guide; Of these the chief the. care of Nations own, And guard with Arms divine the British Throne. Our humbler province is to tend the Fair, POPE. 45 Not a less pleasing, tho' less glorious care, 240 To save the powder from too rude a gale, Nor let th' imprison'd essences exhale, To draw fresh colours from the vernal flow'rs, To steal from rainbows, e're they drop in show'rs A brighter wash, to curl their waving hairs, 245 Assist their blushes, and inspire their airs, Nay, oft', in dreams invention we bestow, To change a Flounce, or add a Furbelo. This day black Omens threat the brightest Fair That e'er deserv'd a watchful spirit's care; 250 Some dire disaster, or by force, or slight; But what, or where, the Fates have wrapt in night. Whether the nymph shall break Diana's law, Or some frail China jar receive a flaw, Or stain her honour, or her new brocade, 255 Forget her pray'rs, or miss a masquerade, Or lose her heart, or necklace, at a ball, Or whether Heav'n has doom'd that Shock must fall. Haste, then, ye spirits ! to your charge repair : The flutt'ring fan be Zephyretta's care; 260 The drops to thee, Brillante, we consign; And, Momentilla, let the watch be thine ; Do thou, Crispissa, tend her fav'rite Lock ; Ariel himself shall be the guard of Shock. To fifty chosen Sylphs, of special note, 265 We trust the important charge, the Petticoat: Form a strong line about the silver bound, And guard the wide circumference around. Whatever spirit, careless of his charge, His post neglects, or leaves the fair at large, 270 Shall feel sharp vengeance soon o'ertake his sins,- Be stop'd in vials, or transfix't with pins, Or plung'd in lakes of bitter washes lie, Or wedg'd whole ages in a bodkin's eye; Gums and Pomatums shall his flight restrain, 275 While clog'd he beats his silken wings in vaiir; Or Alom stypticks with~contracting pow'r Shrink his thin essence like a rivell'd flower; Or, as Ixion fix'd, the wretch shall feel The giddy motion of the whirling Mill, 280 In fumes of burning Chocolate shall glow, And tremble at the sea that froaths below!" 46 L ONGER ENGLISH POEMS. He spoke; the spirits from the sails descend. Some, orb in orb, around the nymph extend; Some thrid the mazy ringlets of her hair; 285 Some hang upon the pendants of her ear. With beating hearts the dire event they wait, Anxious, and trembling for the birth of Fate. CANTO III. CLOSE by those meads, for ever crown'd with flow'rs, Where Thames with pride surveys his rising tow'rs, 290 There stands a structure of majestic frame, Which from the neighb'ring Hampton takes its name. Here Britain's statesmen oft 7 the fall foredoom Of foreign Tyrants, and of Nymphs at home; Here thou, great ANNA! whom three realms obey, 295 Dost sometimes counsel take and sometimes Tea. Hither the heroes and the nymphs resort, To taste a while the pleasures of a Court. In various talk th' instructive hours they past, Who gave the ball, or paid the visit last. 300 One speaks the glory of the British Queen, And one describes a charming Indian screen; A third interprets motions, looks, and eyes; At ev'ry word a reputation dies. Snuff, or the fan, supply each pause of chat, 305 With singing, laughing, ogling, and all that. Mean while, declining from the noon of day, The sun obliquely shoots his burning ray; The hungry Judges soon the sentence sign, And wretches hang that jury-men may dine; 310 The merchant from the Exchange returns in peace, And the long labours of the Toilet cease. Belinda now, whom thirst of fame invites, Burns to encounter two adventrous Knights, At Ombre singly to decide their doom; 315 And swells her breast with conquests yet to come. Strait the three bands prepare in arms to join, Each band the number of the sacred nine. Soon as she spreads her hand, the aerial guard POPE. 47 Descend, and sit on each important card: 320 First Ariel perch'd upon a Matadore, Then each according to the rank they bore ; For Sylphs, yet mindful ot their ancient race, Are, as when women, wondrous fond of place. Behold four Kings in majesty rever'd, 325 With hoary whiskers and a forky beard, And four fair Queens, whose hands sustain a flower, Th' expressive emblem of their softer pow'r, Four Knaves in garbs succinct, a trusty band, Caps on their heads, and halberds in their hand, 330 And particolour'd troops, a shining train, Drawn forth to combat on the velvet plain. The skilful Nymph reviews her force with care; Let Spades be trumps! she said; and trumps, they were. Now move to war her sable Matadores, 335 In show like leaders of the swarthy Moors. Spadillio first, unconquerable lord ! Led off two captive trumps, and swept the board. As many more Manillio forced to yield, And march'd a victor from the verdant field. 340 Him Basto followed, but his fate more hard Gain'd but one trump and one Plebeian card. With his broad sabre next, a chief in years, The hoary Majesty of Spades appears, Puts forth one manly leg, to sight reveal'd; 345 The rest his many-colour'd robe conceal'd. The rebel Knave, who dares his prince engage, Proves the just victim of his royal rage. Ev'n mighty Pam, that Kings and Queens o'erthrew And mow'd down armies in the fights of Lu, 350 Sad chance of war ! now destitute of aid, Falls undistinguish'd by the victor Spade! Thus far both armies to Belinda yield ; Now to the Baron fate inclines the field. His warlike Amazon her host invades, 355 Th' imperial consort of the crown of Spades. The Club's black Tyrant first her victim dy'd, Spite of his haughty mien, and barb'rous pride. What boots the regal circle on his head, His giant limbs, in state unwieldy spread, 360 That long behind he trails his pompous robe, And, of all monarchs, only grasps the globe ? LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. The Baron now his Diamonds pours apace ; Th' embroider'd King who shows but half his face, And his refulgent Queen, with pow'rs combin'd, 365 Of broken troops an easy conquest find. Clubs, Diamonds, Hearts, in wild disorder seen, With throngs promiscuous strow the level green. Thus when dispers'd a routed army runs Of Asia's troops, and Afric's sable sons, 370 With like confusion different nations fly, Of various habit, and of various dye ; The pierc'd battalions dis -united fall, In heaps on heaps ; one fate o'erwhelms them all. The Knave of Diamonds tries his wily arts, 375 And wins (oh shameful chance!) the Queen of Hearts. At this the blood the virgin's cheek forsook, A livid paleness spreads o'er all her look ; She sees, and trembles at th' approaching ill, Just in the jaws of ruin, and Codille. 380 And now (as oft hi some distemper'd State) On one nice Trick depends the gen'ral fate; An Ace of Hearts steps forth ; The King unseen Lurked in her hand, and mourned his captive Queen: He springs to Vengeance with an eager pace, 385 And falls like thunder on the prostrate Ace. The nymph exulting fills with shouts the sky; The walls, the woods, and long canals reply. Oh thoughtless mortals ! ever blind to fate, Too soon dejected, and too soon elate. 390 Sudden these honours shall be snatch' d away, And curs' d for ever this victorious day. For lo ! the board with cups and spoons is crown'd, The berries crackle, and the mill turns round; On shining Altars of Japan they raise 395 The silver lamp ; the fiery spirits blaze ; From silver spouts the grateful liquors glide, While China's earth receives the smoking tyde. At once they gratify their scent and taste, And frequent cups prolong the rich repaste. 400 Strait hover round the Fair her airy band; Some, as she sipp'd, the fuming liquor fann'd. Some o'er her lap their careful plumes display'd, Trembling, and conscious of the rich brocade. Coffee (which makes the politician wise, 405 POPE. 49 And see thro' all things with his half-shut eyes) Sent up in vapours to the Baron's brain New Stratagems, the radiant Lock to gain. Ah cease, rash youth! desist e'er 'tis too late, Fear the just Gods, and think of Scylla's Fate! 410 Chang'd to a bird, and sent to flit in air, She dearly pays for Nisus' injur'd hair! But when to mischief mortals bend their "will, How soon they find fit instruments of ill ! Just then Clarissa drew with tempting grace 415 A two-edg'd weapon from her shining case: So Ladies in Romance assist their Knight, Present the spear, and arm him for the fight. He takes the gift with rev'rence, and extends The little engine on his fingers' ends; 420 This just behind Belinda's neck he spread, As o'er the fragrant steams she bends her head. Swift to the Lock a thousand Sprites repair; A thousand wings by turns blow back the hair; And thrice they twitch' d the diamond in her ear; 425 Thrice she look'd back, and thrice the foe drew near. Just in that instant, anxious Ariel sought The close recesses of the Virgin's thought; As on the nosegay in her breast reclin'd, He watched th' Ideas rising in her mind, 430 Sudden he view'd, in spite of all her art, An earthly Lover lurking at her heart. Amaz'd, confus'd, he found his pow'r expir'd ! Resign'd to fate, and with a sigh retir'd. The Peer now spreads the glitt'ring Forfex wide, 435 T' inclose the Lock ; now joins it, to divide. Ev'n then, before the fatal engine clos'd, A wretched Sylph too fondly interposed ; Fate urg'd the shears, and cut the Sylph in twain (But aiiy substance soon unites again). 440 The meeting points the sacred hair dissever From the fair head, for ever, and for ever ! Then flash'd the living lightning from her eyes, And screams of horror rend the affrighted skies. Not louder shrieks to pitying heav'n are cast, 445 When husbands, or when lapdogs breathe their last; Or when rich China vessels fal'n from high, In glittering dust and painted fragments lie. 50 LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. Let wreaths of triumph now my temples twine, The victor cry'd; the glorious Prize is mine! 450 While fish in streams, or birds delight in air, Or in a coach and six the British Fair, As long as Atalantis shall be read, Or the small pillow grace a Lady's bed, While visits shall be paid on solemn days, 455 When num'rous waxlights in bright order blaze, While nymphs take treats, or assignations give, So long my honour, name, and praise shall live ! What Time wou'd spare, from Steel receives its date, And monuments, like men, submit to Fate ! 460 Steel could the labour of the Gods destroy, And strike to dust the imperial tow'rs of Troy; Steel could the works of mortal pride confound, And hew triumphal arches to the ground. What wonder then, fair nymph ! thy hair should feel 46$ The conqu'ring force of unresisted steel ? CANTO IV. BUT anxious cares the pensive nymph opprest, And secret passions labour'd in her breast. Not youthful kings in battel seiz'd alive, Not scornful virgins who their charms survive, 470 Not ardent lovers robb'd of all their bliss, Not ancient ladies when refus'd a kiss, Not tyrants fierce that unrepenting die, Not Cynthia when her manteau's pinn'd awry, E'er felt such rage, resentment, and despair, 475 As thou, sad Virgin ! for thy ravish'd Hair. For, that sad moment, when the Sylphs withdrew And Ariel weeping from Belinda flew, Umbriel, a dusky, melancholy sprite, As ever sully'd the fair face of light, . - 480 Down to the central earth, his proper scene, Repairs to search the gloomy Cave of Spleen. Swift on his sooty pinions flits the Gnome, And in a vapour reach'd the dismal dome. No chearful breeze this sullen region knows, 485 The dreaded East is all the wind that blows. POPE. 51 Here in a grotto, sheltred close from air, And screen'd in shades from day's detested glare. She sighs for ever on her pensive bed, Pain at her side, and Megrim at her head. 490 Two handmaids wait the throne; alike in place, But differing far in figure and in face. Here stood Ill-nature like an ancient maid, Her wrinkled form in black and white array'd ; With store in pray'rs for mornings, nights, and noons, 495 Her hand is fill'd, her bosom with lampoons. There Affectation, with a sickly mien, Shows in her cheek the roses of eighteen, Practis'd to lisp and hang the head aside, Faints into airs, and languishes with pride, 500 On the rich quilt sinks with becoming woe, Wrapt in a gown for sickness and for show. The fair ones feel such maladies as these, When each new night-dress gives a new disease. A constant Vapour o'er the palace flies, 505 Strange phantoms rising as the mists arise, Dreadful, as hermit's dreams in haunted shades, Or bright, as visions of expiring maids : Now glaring fiends, and snakes on rolling spires, Pale spectres, gaping tombs, and purple fires; 510 Now lakes of liquid gold, Elysian scenes, And crystal domes, and angels in machines. Unnumber'd throngs on every side are seen, Of bodies chang'd to various forms by Spleen. Here living Tea-pots stand, one arm held out, 515 One bent; the handle this, and that the spout; A Pipkin there, like Homer's Tripod, walks ; Here sighs a Jar, and there a Goose-pye talks; Men prove with child, as pow'rful Fancy works, And maids turn'd bottles call aloud for corks. 520 Safe past the Gnome thro' this fantastic band, A branch of healing Spleenwort in his hand. Then thus address'd the pow'r "Hail, wayward Queen! Who rule the sex to fifty from fifteen; Parent of vapours, and of female wit, 5 2 5 Who give th' hysteric, or poetic fit ; On various tempers act by various ways, Make some take physic, others scribble plays; Who cause the proud their visits to delay, LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. And send the godly in a pett to pray! 530 A nymph there is, that all thy pow'r disdains, And thousands more in equal mirth maintains. But, oh ! if e'er thy Gnome could spoil a grace, Or raise a pimple on a beauteous face, Like Citron- waters matrons cheeks inflame, 535 Or change complexions at a losing game; Or caus'd suspicion when no soul was rude, Or discompos'd the head-dress of a prude, Or e'er to costive lapdog gave disease, Which not the tears of brightest eyes could ease, 540 Hear me, and touch Belinda with chagrin ; That single act gives half the world the spleen." The Goddess with a discontented air Seems to reject him, tho' she grants his pray'r. A wond'rous bag with both her hands she binds, 545 Like that where once Ulysses held the winds; There she collects the force of female lungs, Sighs, sobs, and passions, and the war of tongues. A Vial next she fills with fainting fears, Soft sorrows, melting griefs, and flowing tears. 550 The Gnome rejoicing bears her gift away, Spreads his black wings, and slowly mounts to day. Sunk in Thalestris' arms the nymph he found, Her eyes dejected, and her hair unbound. Full o'er their heads the swelling bag he rent, 555 And all the Furies issued at the vent. Belinda burns with more than mortal ire, And fierce Thalestris fans the rising fire. "O wretched maid!" she spread her hands, and cry'd, (While Hampton's ecchoes "Wretched maid!" reply'd,) 560 " Was it for this you took such constant care The bodkin, comb, and essence to prepare? For this your locks in paper durance bound? For this with tort'ring irons wreath'd around? For this with fillets strain'd your tender head, 5^5 And bravely bore the double loads of lead? Gods ! shall the ravisher display your hair, While the Fops envy, and the Ladies stare? Honour forbid ! at whose unrivall'd shrine Ease, pleasure, virtue, all our sex resign. 570 Methinks already I your tears survey, Already hear the horrid things they say, POPE. 53 Already see you a degraded toast, And all your honour in a whisper lost ! How shall I then your helpless fame defend? 575 'Twill then be infamy to seem your friend! And shall this prize, th' inestimable prize, Exposed through crystal to the gazing eyes, And heighten'd by the diamond's circling rays, On that rapacious hand for ever blaze? 580 Sooner shall grass in Hyde-park Circus grow, And wits take lodgings in the sound of Bow; Sooner let earth, air, sea, to Chaos fall, Men, monkeys, lapdogs, parrots, perish all." She said; then raging to Sir Plume repairs, ^o. ^c$ -*-*/<, And bids the Beau demand the precious hairs : (Sir Plume, of amber snuff-box justly vain, And the nice conduct of a clouded cane.) With earnest eyes, and round unthinking face, He first the snuff-box open'd, then the case, 590 And thus broke out "My Lord! why, what the devil! Zounds! damn the lock! 'fore Gad, you must be civil! Plague on't! 'tis past a jest to plunder locks: Give her the hair" he spoke, and rapp'd his box. "It grieves me much," reply'd the Peer again, 595 *' Who speaks so well should ever speak in vain; But by this lock, this sacred lock I swear, (Which never more shall join its parted hair ; Which never more its honours shall renew, Clip'd from the lovely head where late it grew,) 600 That, while my nostrils draw the vital air, This hand, which won it, shall for ever wear." He spoke; and speaking, in proud triumph spread The long-contended honours of her head. But Umbriel, hateful Gnome ! forbears not so ; 605 He breaks the Vial whence the sorrows flow. Then see! the nymph in beauteous grief appears, Her eyes half-languishing, half-drown'd in tears ; On her heav'd bosom hung her drooping head, Which, with a sigh, she rais'd ; and thus she said. 610 " For ever curs'd be this detested day, Which, snatch'd my best, my fav'rite curl away ! Happy! ah ten times happy had I been, If Hampton-Court these eyes had never seen! Yet am not I the first mistaken maid, 615 54 LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. By love of Courts to num'rous ills betray'd. Oh had I rather un-admir'd remain'd In some lone isle, or distant Northern land, Where the gilt Chariot never marks the way, Where none learn Ombre, none e'er taste Bohea ! 620 There kept my charms conceal'd from mortal eye, Like roses, that in desarts bloom and die. What mov'd my mind with youthful Lords to rome? Oh had I stay'd, and said my pray'rs at home! 'Twas this, the morning omens seem'd to tell : 625 Thrice from my trembling hand the patch-box fell; The tottering China shook without a wind ; Nay, Poll sat mute, and Shock was most unkind! A Sylph too warn'd me of the threats of fate, In mystic visions, now believ'.d too late ! 630 See the poor remnants of these slighted hairs ! My hands shall rend what ev'n thy rapine spares. These, in two sable ringlets taught to break, Once gave new beauties to the snowy neck ; The sister lock now sits uncouth, alone, 635 And in its fellow's fate foresees its own ; Uncurl'd it hangs, the fatal sheers demands, And tempts once more thy sacrilegious hands. Oh hadst thou, cruel ! been content to seize Hairs less in sight, or any hairs but these." 640 CANTO V. SHE said; the pitying audience melt in tears; But Fate and Jove had stopp'd the Baron's ears. In vain Thalestris with reproach assails ; For who can move when fair Belinda fails? Not half so fix'd the Trojan could remain, 645 While Anna begg'd and Dido rag'd in vain. Then grave Clarissa graceful wav'd her fan; Silence ensu'd, and thus the Nymph began : " Say, why are beauties prais'd and honour'd most, The wise man's passion, and the vain man's toast? 650 Why deck'd with all that land and sea afford, Why Angels call'd, and Angel-like ador'd? Why round our coaches crowd the white-glov'd Beans ? POPE. 55 Why bows the side box from its inmost rows? How vain are all these glories, all our pains, 655 Unless good sense preserve what beauty gains, That men may say, when we the front box grace, * Behold the first in virtue as in face ! ' Oh! if to dance all night, and dress all day, Charm'd the small-pox, or chas'd old age away; 660 Who would not scorn what huswife's cares produce, Or who would learn one earthly thing of use? To patch, nay ogle, might become a Saint.; Nor could it sure be such a sin to paint. But since, alas! frail beauty must decay, 665 Curl'd or uncurl'd, since Locks will turn to grey; Since painted, or not painted, all shall fade, And she who scorns a man, must die a maid ; What then remains but well our pow'r to use, And keep good-humour still whate'er we lose? 670 And trust me, dear! good-humour can prevail. When airs, and flights, and screams, and scolding fail. Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll; Charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul." So spoke the dame, but no applause ensu'd ; 675 Belinda frowned, Thalestris call'd her Prude. "To arms, to arms!" the fierce Virago cries, And swift as lightning to the com bate flies. All side in parties, and begin th' attack; Fans clap, silks russle, and tough whalebones crack ; 680 Heroes' and Heroins shouts confus'dly rise, And base, and treble voices strike the skies. No common weapons in their hands are found ; Like Gods they fight, nor dread a mottal wound. So when bold Homer makes the Gods engage, 685 And heav'nly breasts with human passions rage; 'Gainst Pallas, Mars; Latona, Hermes arms; And all Olympus rings with loud alarms; Jove's thunder roars, heav'n trembles all around ; Blue Neptune storms, the bellowing deeps resound; 690 Earth shakes her nodding tow'rs, the ground gives way, And the pale ghosts start at the flash of day! Triumphant Umbriel, on a sconce's height, Clap'd his glad wings, and sate to view the fight. Prop'd on their bodkin spears, the Sprites survey 695 The growing combat, or assist the fray, 56 LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. While thro' the press enrag'd Thalestris flies, And scatters deaths around from both her eyes, A Beau and Witling perish'd in the throng ; One dy'd in metaphor, and one in song. 700 " O cruel nymph! a living death I bear," Cry'd Dapperwit, and sunk beside his chair. A mournful glance Sir Fopling upwards cast ; " Those eyes are made so killing" was his last. Thus on Maeander's flow'ry margin lies 705 Th' expiring Swan, and as he sings he dies. When bold Sir Plume had drawn Clarissa down, Chloe stepp'd in, and kill'd him with a frown; She smil'd to see the doughty hero slain, But at her smile the Beau reviv'd again. 710 Now Jove suspends his golden scales in air, Weighs the Men's wits against the lady's Hair. The doubtful beam long nods from side to side; At length the wits mount up, the hairs subside. See, fierce Belinda on the Baron flies, 715 With more than usual lightning in her eyes; Nor fear'd the Chief th' unequal fight to try, Who sought no more than on his foe to* die. But this bold Lord, with manly strength endu'd, She with one finger and a thumb subdu'd. 720 Just where the breath of life his nostrils drew, A charge of Snuff the wily Virgin threw; The Gnomes direct, to ev'ry atome just, The pungent grains of titillating dust. Sudden with starting tears each eye o'erflows, 725 And the high dome re-echoes to his nose. "Now meet thy fate," incens'd Belinda cry'd, And drew a deadly bodkin from her side. (The same, his ancient personage to deck, Her great-great-grandsire wore about his neck, 730 In three seal-rings; which after, melted down, Form'd a vast buckle for his widow's gown ; Her infant grandame's whistle next it grew, The bells she gingled, and the whistle blew; Then in a bodkin grac'd her mother's hairs, 735 Which long she wore, and now Belinda wears.) "Boast not my fall," he cry'd, "insulting foe! Thou by some other shalt be laid as low. Nor think, to die dejects my lofty mind; POPE. 57 All that I dread is leaving you behind! 740 Rather than so, ah let me still survive, And burn in Cupid's flames but burn alive." " Restore the Lock!" she cries; and all around " Restore the Lock!" the vaulted roofs rebound. Not fierce Othello in so loud a strain 745 Roar'd for the handkerchief that caus'd his pain. But see how oft' ambitious aims are cross'd, And chiefs contend till all the prize is lost! The Lock, obtain'd with guilt, and kept with pain, In ev'ry place is sought, but sought in vain. 750 With such a prize no mortal must be blest, So heav'n decrees ! with heav'n who can contest ? Some thought it mounted to the Lunar sphere, Since all things lost on earth are treasur'd there. There Hero's wits are kept in pondrous vases, 755 And Beau's in snuff-boxes and tweezer- cases. There broken vows and death-bed alms are found, And lovers' hearts with ends of riband bound, The courtier's promises, and sick man's pray'rs, The smiles of harlots, and the tears of heirs, 760 Cages for gnats, and chains to yoak a flea, Dry'd butterflies, and tomes of casuistry. But trust the Muse she saw it upward rise, Tho' mark'd by none but quick poetic eyes; (So Rome's great founder to the heav'ns withdrew, 765 To Proculus alone confess'd in view.) A sudden Star, it shot thro' liquid air, And drew behind a radiant trail of hair. Not Berenice's Locks first rose so bright, The heav'ns bespangling with dishevel'd light. 770 The Sylphs behold it kindling as it flies, And pleas'd pursue its progress thro' the skies. This the feeau monde shall from the Mall survey, And hail with music its propitious ray. This the blest Lover shall for Venus take, 775 And send up vows from Rosamonda's lake; This Partridge soon shall view in cloudless skies, When next he looks thro' Galileo's eyes ; And hence th' egregious wizard shall foredoom The fate of Louis, and the fall of Rome. 780 Then cease, bright Nymph ! to mourn thy ravish'd hair, Which adds new glory to the shining sphere ! 58 LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. Not all the tresses that fair head can boast, Shall draw such envy as the Lock you lost : For after all the murders of your eye, 785 When, after millions slain, your self shall die; When those fair suns shall set, as set they must, And all those tresses shall be laid in dust, This Lock the Muse shall consecrate to fame, And 'midst the stars inscribe Belinda's name. 790 JOHNSON. 59 JOHNSON. LONDON. THO' grief and fondness in my breast rebel, When injur'd Thaks bids the town farewel, Yet still my calmer thoughts his choice commend, (I praise the hermit, but regret the friend,) Resolv'd at length, from vice and London far, 5 To breathe in distant fields a purer air, Arid, fix'd on Cambria's solitary shore, Give to St. David one true Briton more. For who woud leave, unbrib'd, Hibernia's land, Or change the rocks of Scotland for the Strand? 10 There none are swept by sudden fate away, But all whom hunger spares with age decay r Here malice, rapine, accident, conspire, And now a rabble rages, now a fire; Their ambush here relentless ruffians lay, 15 And here the fell attorney prowls for prey ; Here falling houses thunder on your head, And here a female atheist talks you dead. While Thales waits the wherry that contains Of dissipated wealth the small remains, 2O On Thames's banks in silent thought we stood, Where Greenwich smiles upon the silver flood : Struck with the seat that gave Eliza birth, We kneel, and kiss the consecrated earth ; In pleasing dreams the blissful age renew, 2 5 And call Britannia's glories back to view ; 60 LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. Behold her cross triumphant on the main, The guard of commerce and the dread of Spain, Ere masquerades debauch'd, excise oppress'd, Or English honour grew a standing jest. 30 A transient calm the happy scenes bestow, And for a moment lull the sense of woe. At length awaking, with contemptuous frown Indignant Thales eyes the neighb'ring town. Since worth, he cries, in these degen'rate days 35 Wants ev'n the cheap reward of empty praise ; In those curs' d walls, devote to vice and gain, Since unrewarded science toils in vain; Since hope but sooths to double my distress, And ev'ry moment leaves my little less ; 4 While yet my steady steps no staff sustains, And life still vig'rous revels in my veins, Grant me, kind heaven, to find some happier place, Where honesty and sense are no disgrace; Some pleasing bank where verdant osiers play, 45 Some peaceful vale with nature's paintings gay, Where once the harass' d Briton found repose, And safe in poverty defy'd his foes; Some secret cell, ye pow'rs, indulgent give. Let live here, for has learn'd to live. 50 Here let those reign, whom pensions can incite To vote a patriot black, a courtier white; Explain their country's dear-bought rights away, And plead for pirates in the face of day ; With slavish tenets taint our poison'd youth, 55 And lend a lie the confidence of truth. Let such raise palaces, and manors buy, Collect a tax, or farm a lottery ; With warbling eunuchs fill our silenc'd stage, And lull to servitude a thoughtless age. 60 Heroes, proceed ! what bounds your pride shall hold ? What check restrain your thirst of pow'r and gold ? Behold rebellious virtue quite o'erthrown, Behold our fame, our wealth, our lives your own. To such the plunder of a land is giv'n, 65 When publick crimes inflame the wrath of heav'n : But what, my friend, what hope remains for me, Who start at theft, and blush at perjury? Who scarce forbear, tho' Britain's court he sing, JOHNSON. 61 To pluck a titled poet's borrow'd wing ; 70 A statesman's logic unconvinc'd can hear, And dare to slumber o'er the Gazetteer; Despise a fool in half his pension dress'd, And strive in vain to laugh at Clodio's jest? Others, with softer smiles and subtler art, 75 Can sap the principles, or taint the heart ; With more address a lover's note convey, Or bribe a virgin's innocence away. Well may they rise, while I, whose rustick tongue Ne'er knew to puzzle right, or varnish wrong, 80 Spurn'd as a beggar, dreaded as a spy, Live unregarded, unlamented die. For what but social guilt the friend endears? Who shares Orgilio's crimes, his fortune shares. But thou, should tempting villany present 85 All Marlb'rough hoarded, or all Villiers spent, Turn from the glitt'ring bribe thy scornful eye, Nor sell for gold, what gold could never buy, The peaceful slumber, self-approving day, Unsullied fame, and conscience ever gay. 90 The cheated nation's happy fav'rites see ! Mark whom the great caress, who frown on me ! London, the needy villain's gen'ral home, The common sewer of Paris and of Rome, With eager thirst, by folly or by fate, 95 Sucks in the dregs of each corrupted state. Forgive my transports on a theme like this, I cannot bear a French metropolis. Illustrious Edward ! from the realms of day, The land of heroes and of saints survey ; loo Nor hope the British lineaments to trace, The rustick grandeur, or the surly grace, But, lost in thoughtless ease and empty show, Behold the warrior dwindled to a beau ; Sense, freedom, piety, refin'd away, 105 Of France the mimick, and of Spain the prey. All that at home no more can beg or steal, Or like a gibbet better than a wheel, Hiss'd from the stage, or hooted from the court, Their air, their dress, their politicks import; Ho Obsequious, artful, voluble, and gay, On Britain's fond credulity they prey- 62 LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. All sciences a fasting Monsieur knows, And bid him go to hell, to hell he goes. Ah! what avails it, that, from slav'ry far, 115 I drew the breath of life in English air; Was early taught a Briton's right to prize, And lisp the tale of Henry's victories ; If the gull'd conqueror receives the chain, And flattery prevails when arms are vain? 120 Studious to please and ready to submit, The supple Gaul was born a parasite : Still to his int'rest true, where'er he goes, Wit, brav'ry, worth, his lavish tongue bestows ; In ev'ry face a thousand graces shine, 125 From ev'ry tongue flows harmony divine. These arts in vain our rugged natives try, Strain out with fault'ring diffidence a lie, And get a kick for awkward flattery. Besides, with justice this discerning age 130 Admires their wond'rous talents for the stage : Well may they venture on the mimick's art, Who play from morn to night a borrow'd part; Practis'd their master's notions to embrace, Repeat his maxims, and reflect his face; 135 With ev'ry wild absurdity comply, And view each object with another's eye; . To shake with laughter ere the jest they hear, To pour at will the counterfeited tear, And as their patron hints the cold or heat, 140 To shake in dog days, in December sweat. How, when competitors like these contend, Can surly virtue hope to fix a friend? Slaves that with serious impudence beguile, And lie without a blush, without a smile ; 145 Can Balbo's eloquence applaud, and swear He gropes his breeches with a monarch's air. For arts like these preferr'd, admir'd, caress'd, They first invade your table, then your breast; Explore your secrets with insidious art, 150 Watch the weak hour, and ransack all the heart ; Then soon your ill-plac'd confidence repay, Commence your lords, and govern or betray. By numbers here from shame or censure free All crimes are safe, but hated poverty. 155 JOHNSON. 63 This, only this, the rigid law pursues ; This, only this, provokes the snarling muse. The sober trader at a tatter'd cloak Wakes from his dream, and labours for a joke; With brisker air the silken courtiers gaze, 1 60 And turn the varied taunt a thousand ways. Of all the griefs that harass the distress'd, Sure the most bitter is a scornful jest; Fate never wounds more deep the gen'rous heart, Than when a blockhead's insult points the dart. 165 Has heaven reserv'd, in pity to the poor, No pathless waste, or undiscover'd shore? No secret island in the boundless main? No peaceful desert yet unclaim'd by Spain? Quick let us rise, the happy seats explore, 170 And bear oppression's insolence no more. This mournful truth is ev'ry where confess'd, SLOW RISES WORTH, BY POVERTY DEPRESS J D : But here more slow, where all are slaves to gold, Where looks are merchandise, and smiles are sold ; 1 75 Where won by bribes, by flatteries implor'd, The groom retails the favours of his lord. But hark ! th' affrighted crowd's tumultuous cries Roll through the streets, and thunder to the skies: Rais'd from some pleasing dream of wealth and pow'r, J 8o Some pompous palace, or some blissful bow'r, Aghast you start, and scarce with aching sight Sustain the approaching fire's tremendous light; Swift from pursuing horrors take your way, And leave your little ALL to flames a prey; 1 &S Then thro' the world a wretched vagrant roam, For where can starving merit find a home? In vain your mournful narrative disclose, While all neglect, and most insult your woes. Should heaven's just bolts Orgilio's wealth confound, 190 And spread his flaming palace on the ground. Swift o'er the land the dismal rumour flies, And publick mournings pacify the skies ; The laureat tribe in venal verse relate How virtue wars with persecuting fate; 1 95 With well-feign'd gratitude the pension'd band Refund the plunder of the beggar'd land. See ! while he builds, the gaudy vassals come, , 64 LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. And crowd with sudden wealth the rising dome ; The price of boroughs and of souls restore ; 200 And raise his treasures higher than before : Now bless'd with all the baubles of the great, The polish'd marble, and the shining plate, Orgilio sees the golden pile aspire, And hopes from angry heav'n another fire. 205 Could'st thou resign the park and play, content, For the fair banks of Severn or of Trent; There might'st thou find some elegant retreat, Some hireling senator's deserted seat, And stretch thy prospects o'er the smiling land, 210 For less than rent the dungeons of the Strand ; There prune thy walks, support thy drooping flow'rs, Direct thy rivulets, and twine thy bow'rs, And, while thy grounds a cheap repast afford, Despise the dainties of a venal lord: 215 There ev'ry bush with nature's musick rings, There ev'ry breeze bears health upon its wings ; On all thy hours security shall smile, And bless thine evening walk and morning toil. Prepare for death, if here at night you roam, 220 And sign your will before you sup from home. Some fiery fop, with new commission vain, Who sleeps on brambles till he kills his man, Some frolick drunkard, reeling from a feast, Provokes a broil, and stabs you for a jest. 225 Yet ev'n these heroes, mischievously gay, Lords of the street, and terrors of the way, Flush'd as they are with folly, youth, and wine, Their prudent insults to the poor confine; Afar they mark the flambeau's bright approach, 230 And shun the shining train and golden coach. In vain, these dangers past, your doors you close, And hope the balmy blessings of repose : Cruel with guilt, and daring with despair, The midnight murd'rer bursts the faithless bar; 235 Invades the sacred hour of silent rest, And leaves, unseen, a dagger in your breast. Scarce can our fields, such crowds at Tyburn die, With hemp the gallows and the fleet supply. Propose your schemes, ye senatorian band, 240 Whose ways and means support the sinking land, JOHNSON. 65 Lest ropes be wanting in the tempting Spring, To rig another convoy for the king. A single gaol in Alfred's golden reign Could half the nation's criminals contain ; 245 Fair Justice then, without constraint ador'd, Held high the steady scale, but sheath'd the sword ; No spies were paid, no special juries known : Blest age ! but, ah ! how diff 'rent from our own ! Much could I add, but see! the boat at hand, 250 The tide retiring, calls me from the land : Farewell ! When, youth and health and fortune spent, Thou fly'st for refuge to the wilds of Kent, And tir'd, like me, with follies and with crimes, In angry numbers warn'st succeeding times; 2 cc Then shall thy friend nor thou refuse his aid- Still foe to vice, forsake his Cambrian shade ; In virtue's cause once more exert his rage, Thy satire point, and animate thy page. THE VANITY OF HUMAN WISHES. LET observation, with extensive view, Survey mankind, from China to Peru ; Remark each anxious toil, each eager strife, And watch the busy scenes of crowded life : Then say how hope and fear, desire and hate, 5 O'erspread with snares the clouded maze of fate, Where wav'ring man, betray'd by vent'rous pride To tread the dreary paths without a guide, As treach'rous phantoms in the mist delude, Shuns fancied ills, or chases airy good ; 10 How rarely reason guides the stubborn choice, Rules the bold hand, or prompts the suppliant voice ; How nations sink, by darling schemes oppress'd, When Vengeance listens to the fool's request. Fate wings with ev'ry wish th' afflictive dart, 15 Each gift of nature and each grace of art; With fatal heat impetuous courage glows, With fatal sweetness elocution flows, F 66 LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. Impeachment stops the speaker's pow'rful breath, And restless fire precipitates on death. 20 But, scarce observ'd, the knowing and the bold Fall in the gen'ral massacre of gold ; Wide-wasting pest ! that rages unconfin'd, And crowds with crimes the records of mankind : For gold his sword the hireling ruffian draws, 25 For gold the hireling judge distorts the laws : Wealth heap'd on wealth nor truth nor safety buys ; The dangers gather as the treasures rise. Let hist'ry tell, where rival kings command, And dubious title shakes the madded land, 3 When statutes glean the refuse of the sword, How much more safe the vassal than the lord ; Low sculks the Tiind beneath the rage of pow'r, And leaves the wealthy traitor in the Tow'r, Untouch'd his cottage, and his slumbers sound, 35 Tho' confiscation's vultures hover round. The needy traveller, serene and gay, Walks the wide heath, and sings his toil away. Does envy seize thee? Crush th' upbraiding joy, Increase his riches, and his peace destroy : 4 New fears in dire vicissitude invade ; The rustling brake alarms, and quiv'ring shade ; Nor light nor darkness bring his pain relief, One shows the plunder, and one hides the thief. Yet still one gen'ral cry the skies assails, 45 And gain and grandeur load the tainted gales ; Few know the toiling statesman's fear or care, Th' insidious rival and the gaping heir. , Once more, Democritus, arise on earth, With cheerful wisdom and instructive mirth, 50 See motley life in modern trappings dress'd, And feed with varied fools th' eternal jest. Thou who couldst laugh where want enchain'd caprice, Toil crush'd conceit, and man was of a piece ; Where wealth unlov'd without a mourner dy'd; 55 And scarce a sycophant was fed by pride ; Where ne'er was known the form of mock debate, Or seen a new-ma^le mayor's unwieldy state ; Where change of fav'rites made no change of laws, And senates heard before they judg'd a cause; 60 How wouldst thou shake at Britain's modish tribe, JOHNSON. 67 Dart the quick taunt, and edge the piercing gibe! Attentive truth and nature to descry, And pierce each scene with philosophick eye. To thee were solemn toys or empty show 65 The robes of pleasure and the veils of woe : All aid the farce, and all thy mirth maintain, Whose joys are causeless, or whose griefs are vain. Such was the scorn that fill'd the sage's mind, Renevv'd at ev'ry glance on human kind. 7 How just that scorn ere yet thy voice declare, Search every state, and canvass ev'ry pray'r. Unnumber'd suppliants crowd Preferment's gate, Athirst for wealth, and burning to be great ; Delusive Fortune hears th' incessant call: 75 They mount, they shine, evaporate, and fall. On ev'ry stage the foes of peace attend ; Hate dogs their flight, and insult mocks their end ; Love ends with hope ; the sinking statesman's door Pours in the morning worshipper no more ; 80 For growing names the weekly scribbler lies, To growing wealth the dedicator flies ; From ev'ry room descends the painted face, That hung the bright palladium of the place, And smoak'd in kitchens, or in auction sold, 85 To better features yields the frame of gold ; For now no more we trace in ev'ry line Heroick worth, benevolence divine : The form distorted justifies the fall, And detestation rids th' indignant wall. 90 But will not Britain hear the last appeal, Sign her foes' doom, or guard her fav'rites' zeal? Thro' Freedom's sons no more remonstrance rings, Degrading nobles and controuling kings ; Our supple tribes repress their patriot throats, 95 And ask no questions but the price of votes ; With weekly libels and septennial ale, Their wish is full to riot and to rail. In full-blown dignity see Wolsey stand, Law in his voice, and fortune in his hand : IO To him the church, the realm, their pow'rs consign, Thro' him the rays of regal bounty shine, Turn'd by his nod the stream of honour flows, His smile alone security bestows : 68 LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. Still to new heights his restless wishes tow'r, 105 Claim leads to claim, and pow'r advances pow'r ; Till conquest unresisted ceas'd to please, And rights submitted left him none to seize. At length his sov'reign frowns ; the train of state Mark the keen glance, and watch the sign to hate. no Where-e'er he turns he meets a stranger's eye; His suppliants scorn him, and his followers fly : Now drops at once the pride of awful state, The golden canopy, the glitt'ring plate, The regal palace, the luxurious board, 115 The liv'ried army, and the menial lord. With age, with cares, with maladies oppress'd, He seeks the refuge of monastick rest. Grief aids disease, remember'd folly stings, And his last sighs reproach the faith of kings. 120 Speak thou, whose thoughts at humble peace repine, Shall Wolsey's wealth, with Wolsey's end, be thine? Or liv'st thou now, with safer pride content, The wisest justice on the banks of Trent? For why did Wolsey near the steeps of fate 125 ' On weak foundations raise th' enormous weight? Why, but to sink beneath misfortune's blow, With louder ruin, to the gulphs below ? What gave great Villiers to th' assassin's knife, And fix'd disease on Harley's closing life? 130 What murder'd Wentworth and what exil'd Hyde, By kings protected, and to kings ally'd? What but their wish indulg'd in courts to shine, And pow'r too great to keep or to resign? When first the college rolls receive his name, I 35 The young enthusiast quits his ease for fame; Resistless burns the fever of renown, Caught from the strong contagion of the gown : O'er Bodley's dome his future labours spread, And Bacon's mansion trembles o'er his head. J 4 Are these thy views? Proceed, illustrious youth, And Virtue guard thee to the throne of Truth ! Yet should thy soul indulge the gen'rous heat, Till captive Science yields her last retreat; Should Reason guide thee with her brightest ray, r 45 And pour on misty Doubt resistless day ; Should no false kindness lure to loose delight, JOHNSON. Nor praise relax, nor difficulty fright ; Should tempting Novelty thy cell refrain, And Sloth effuse her opiate fumes in vain; 150 Should Beauty blunt on fops her fatal dart, Nor claim the triumph of a letter'd heart ; Should no Disease thy torpid veins invade, Nor Melancholy's phantoms haunt thy shade ; Yet hope not life from grief or danger free, 155 Nor think the doom of man revers'd for thee : Deign on the passing world to turn thine eyes, And pause awhile from learning, to be wise ; There mark what ills the scholar's life assail Toil, envy, want, the patron, and the jail. 160 See nations slowly wise, and meanly just, To buried merit raise the tardy bust. If dreams yet flatter, once again attend, Hear Lydiat's life and Galileo's end. Nor deem, when Learning her last prize bestows, 165 The glitt'ring eminence exempt from foes : See, when the vulgar 'scape, despis'd or aw'd, Rebellion's vengeful talons seize on Laud ! From meaner minds tho' smaller fines content, The plunder'd palace or sequester'd rent, 17 Mark'd out by dang'rous parts he meets the shock, And fatal Learning leads him to the block : Around his tomb let Art and Genius weep, But hear his death, ye blockheads, hear and sleep. The festal blazes, the triumphal show, 175 The ravish'd standard, and the captive foe, The Senate's thanks, the gazette's pompous tale, With force resistless o'er the brave prevail. Such bribes the rapid Greek o'er Asia whirl'd ; For such the steady Romans shook the world ; 1 80 For such in distant lands the Britons shine, And stain with blood the Danube or the Rhine : This pow'r has praise, that virtue scarce can warm, Till fame supplies the universal charm. Yet Reason frowns on War's unequal game, l %3 Where wasted nations raise a single name, And mortgag'd states their grandsires' wreaths regret, From age to age in everlasting debt ; Wreaths which at last the dear-bought right convey To rust on medals, or on stones decay, 1 9 7 o LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. On what foundation stands the warrior's pride, How just his hopes, let Swedish Charles decide : A frame of adamant, a soul of fire, No dangers fright him, and no labours tire ; O'er love, o'er fear, extends his wide domain, 195 Unconquer'd lord of pleasure and of pain ; No joys to him pacifick scepters yield, War sounds the trump, he rushes to the field ; Behold surrounding kings their pow'rs combine, And one capitulate, and one resign : 200 Peace courts his hand, but spreads her charms in vain; " Think nothing gain'd," he cries, " till naught remain, " On Moscow's walls till Gothic standards fly, " And all be mine beneath the polar sky." The march begins in military state, 205 And nations on his eye suspended wait ; Stern Famine guards the solitary coast, And Winter barricades the realms of Frost : He comes ; nor want nor cold his course delay ; Hide, blushing Glory, hide Pultowa's day: 210 The vanquish'd hero leaves his broken bands, And shows his miseries in distant lands ; Condemn'd a needy supplicant to wait, While ladies interpose and slaves debate. But did not Chance at length her error mend? 215 Did no subverted empire mark his end ? Did rival monarchs give the fatal wound? Or hostile millions press him to the ground? His fall was destin'd to a barren strand, A petty fortress, and a dubious hand. 220 He left the name, at which the world grew pale, To point a moral, or adorn a tale. All times their scenes of pompous woes afford, From Persia's tyrant to Bavaria's lord. In gay hostility and barb'rous pride, 225 With half mankind embattled at his side, Great Xerxes comes to seize the certain prey, And starves exhausted regions in his way. Attendant Flatt'ry counts his myriads o'er, Till counted myriads sooth his pride no more ; 230 Fresh praise is try'd till madness fires his mind, The waves he lashes, and enchains the wind ; New pow'rs are claim'd, new pow'rs are still bestow'd, JOHNSON. 71 Till rude resistance lops the spreading god. The daring Greeks deride the martial show, 235 And heap their vallies with the gaudy foe. Th' insulted sea with humbler thoughts he gains ; A single skiff to speed his flight remains ; Th' encumber'd oar scarce leaves the dreaded coast Through purple billows and a floating host. 240 The bold Bavarian, in a luckless hour, Tries the dread summits of Csesarean pow'r, With unexpected legions bursts away, And sees defenceless realms receive his sway : Short sway ! fair Austria spreads her mournful charms ; 245 The queen, the beauty, sets the world in arms; From hill to hill the beacon's rousing blaze Spreads wide the hope of plunder and of praise ; The fierce Croatian and the wild Hussar, With all the sons of ravage, crowd the war. 250 The baffled prince in honour's flatt'ring bloom Of hasty greatness finds the fatal doom, His foes' derision and his subjects' blame, And steals to death from anguish and from shame. Enlarge my life with multitude of days ! 255 In health, in sickness, thus the suppliant prays ; Hides from himself his state, and shuns to know, That life protracted is protracted woe. Time hovers o'er, impatient to destroy, And shuts up all the passages of joy : 260 In vain their gifts the bounteous seasons pour, The fruit autumnal and the vernal flow'r; With listless eyes the dotard views the store: He views, and wonders that they please no more. Now pall the tasteless meats and joyless wines, 265 And Luxury with sighs her slave resigns. Approach, ye minstrels, try the soothing strain, Diffuse the tuneful lenitives of pain : No sounds, alas ! would touch th' impervious ear, Though dancing mountains witness'd Orpheus near ; 270 Nor lute nor lyre his feeble pow'rs attend, Nor sweeter musick of a virtuous friend ; But everlasting dictates crowd his tongue, Perversely grave or positively wrong. The still returning tale and ling'ring jest 275 Perplex the fawning niece and pamper'd guest, 72 LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. While growing hopes scarce awe the gath'ring sneer, And scarce a legacy can bribe to hear ; The watchful guests still hint the last offence, The daughter's petulance, the son's expence, 280 Improve his heady rage with treach'rous skill, And mould his passions till they make his will. Unnumber'd maladies his joints invade, Lay siege to life, and press the dire blockade; But unextinguish'd Av'rice still remains, 285 And dreaded losses aggravate his pains : He turns, with anxious heart and crippled hands, His bonds of debt and mortgages of lands; Or views his coffers with suspicious eyes, I Unlocks his gold, and counts it till he dies. 290 But grant, the virtues of a temp'rate prime Bless with an age exempt from scorn or crime ; An age that melts with unperceiv'd decay, And glides in modest innocence away ; Whose peaceful day Benevolence endears, 295 Whose night congratulating Conscience cheers ; The gen'ral fav'rite as the gen'ral friend : Such age there is, and who shall wish its end? Yet ev'n on this her load Misfortune flings, To press the weary minutes' flagging wings; 300 New sorrow rises as the day returns, A sister sickens, or a daughter mourns. Now kindred Merit fills the sable bier, Now lacerated Friendship claims a tear. Year chases year, decay pursues decay, 305 Still drops some joy from with'ring life away ; New forms arise, and diff'rent views engage, Superfluous lags the vet'ran on the stage, Till pitying Nature signs the last release, And bids afflicted worth retire to peace. 310 But few there are whom hours like these await, Who set unclouded in the gulphs of Fate. From Lydia's monarch should the search descend, By Solon caution'd to regard his end, In life's last scene what prodigies surprise 3^ Fears of the brave, and follies of the wise ! From Marlb'rough's eyes the streams of dotage flow, And Swift expires a driv'ler and a show. The teeming mother, anxious for her race, JOHNSON. 73 Begs for each birth the fortune of a face : 320 Yet Vane could tell what ills from beauty spring ; $UW"\ And Sedley curs'd the form that pleas'd a king. Ye nymphs of rosy lips and radiant eyes, Whom Pleasure keeps too busy to be wise; Whom joys with soft varieties invite, 325 By day the frolick, and the dance by night ; Who frown with vanity, who smile with art, And ask the latest fashion of the heart, What care, what rules, your heedless charms shall save, Each nymph your rival, and each youth your slave? 330 Against your fame with fondness hate combines, The rival batters, and the lover mines. With distant voice neglected Virtue calls; Less heard and less, the faint remonstrance falls : Tir'd with contempt, she quits the slipp'ry reign, 335 And Pride and Prudence take her seat in vain. In crowd at once, where none the pass defend, The harmless freedom and the private friend. The guardians yield, by force superior ply'd : To Int'rest, Prudence ; and to Flatt'ry, Pride. 340 Here Beauty falls betray'd, despis'd, distress'd, And hissing Infamy proclaims the rest. Where then shall Hope and Fear their objects find ? Must dull Suspense corrupt the stagnant mind? Must helpless man, in ignorance sedate, 345 Roll darkling down the torrent of his fate ? Must no dislike alarm, no wishes rise, No cries invoke the mercies of the skies ? Enquirer, cease; petitions yet remain, Which heav'n may hear; nor deem religion vain. 350 Still raise for good the supplicating voice, But leave to heav'n the measure and the choice ; Safe in his pow'r, whose eyes discern afar The secret ambush of a specious pray'r. Implore his aid, in his decisions rest, 355 Secure, whate'er he gives, he gives the best. Yet when the sense of sacred presence fires, And strong devotion to the skies aspires, Pour forth thy fervours for a healthful mind, Obedient passions, and a will resign' d ; 360 For love, which scarce collective man can fill ; For patience, sov' reign o'er transmuted ill ; 74 LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. For faith, that, panting for a happier seat, Counts death kind Nature's signal of retreat : These goods for man the laws of heav'n ordain ; 365 These goods he grants, who grants the pow'r to gain ; With these celestial Wisdom calms the mind, And makes the happiness she does not find. COLLINS. 75 COLLINS. THE PASSIONS. WHEN Music, heav'nly maid, was young, While yet in early Greece she sung, The Passions oft, to hear her shell, Throng' d around her magic cell, Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting, 5 Possest beyond the Muse's painting ; By turns they felt the glowing mind Disturb'd, delighted, rais'd, refin'd ; Till once, 'tis said, when all were fir'd, Fill'd with fury, rapt, inspir'd, 10 From the supporting myrtles round They snatch'd her instruments of sound ; And, as they oft had heard apart Sweet lessons of her forceful art, Each, for madness rul'd the hour, 15 Would prove his own expressive power, First Fear his hand, its skill to try, Amid the chords bewilder'd laid, And back recoil'd, he knew not why, Ev'n at the sound himself had made. 20 rush'd ; his eyes on fire In lightnings own'd his secret stings ; In one rude clash he struck the lyre, And swept with hurried hand the strings. With woful measures wan Despair, 2 5 Low sullen sounds, his grief beguil'd, 7 6 LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. A solemn, strange, and mingled air ; 'Twas sad by fits, by starts 'twas wild. \J^ But Thou, O Hope, with eyes so fair, What was fhy delightful measure? 30 Still it whisper'd promis'd pleasure, And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail I Still would her touch tne strain prolong, And from the rocks, the woods, the vale, She calPd on Echo still thro' all the song; 35 And, where her sweetest theme she chose, A soft responsive voice was heard at ev'ry close, And Hope enchanted smil'd, and wav'd her golden hair. And longer had she sung, but, with a frown, (f Revenge impatient rose : 40 He threw his blood-stain'd sword in thunder down, And with a with'ring look The war-denouncing trumpet took, And blew a blast so loud and dread, Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of woe. 45 And ever and anon he beat The doubling drum with furious heat; And tho' sometimes, each dreary pause between, Dejected Pity^jat his side Her soul^subduing voice applied, 50 Yet still he kept his wild unalter'd mien, While each strain'd ball of sight seem'd bursting from his head. 7 Thy numbers, Jealousy to nought were fix'd, Sad proof oFthy distressful state 5 Of diff' ring themes the veering song was mix'd ; 55 Q And now it courted Love, now raving call'd on Hate. With eyes up-rais'd, as one inspir'd, ft Pale Melancholy sate retir'd, And from her wild sequester'd seat, In notes by distance made more sweet, 60 Pour'd thro' the mellow horn her pensive soul ; And, dashing soft from rocks around, Bubbling runnels join'd the sound ; Thro' glades and glooms the mingled measure stole, Or o'er some haunted stream with fond delay, 65 Round an holy calm diffusing, Love of peace and lonely musing, In hollow murmurs died away. COLLINS. 77 But, O, how alter'd was its sprighjlier tone, When ,Chearfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue, 70 Her bow a-cross her shoulder flung, Her buskins gem'd with morning dew, Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung, The hunter's call to Faun and Dryad known ! The oak-crowned sisters and their chast-eyed queen, 75 Satyrs and sylvan boys, were seen, Peeping from forth their alleys green ; v Brown Exercise rejoic'd to hear, And port leapt up and seiz'd his beechen spear. J Last came Joy's ecstatic trial : 80 He, with viny crown advancing, First to the lively pipe his hand addrest, But soon he saw the brisk-awak'ning viol, Whose sweet entrancing voice he lov'd the best; They would have thought, who heard the strain, 85 They saw in Tempe's vale her native maids, Amidst the festal sounding shades, To some unwearied minstrel dancing, While, as his flying fingers kiss'd the strings, Love fram'd with Mirth a gay fantastic round ; /5* 90 Loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound ; And he, amidst his frolic play, As if he would the charming air repay, Shook thousand odours from his dewy wings. O Music, sphere-descended maid, 16 1*7 ^ Friend of Pleasure, Wisdom's aid, Why, Goddess, ""why to us deny'd Lay'st thou thy antient lyre aside ? As in that lov'd Athenian bow'r, You learn'd an all-commanding pow'r, 100 Thy mimic soul, O Nymph endear'd, Can well recall what then it heard. Where is thy native simple heart, Devote to Virtue, Fancy, Art ? Arise, as in that elder tirneT" 105 Warm, energic, chaste, sublime ! Thy wonders, in that godlike age, Fill thy recording Sister's page : 'Tis said, and I believe the tale, Thy humblest reed could more prevail, no Had more of strength, diviner rage, 78 LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. Than all which charms this laggard age, Ev'n all at once together found Cecilia's mingled world of sound. O bid our vain endeavors cease, JI 5 Revive the just designs of Greece ! Return in all thy simple state! Confirm the tales her sons relate/ GRA Y. 79 GRAY, ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD. THE curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The plowman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, 5 And all the air a" solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds ; Save that, from yonder ivy-mantled tow'r, The moping owl does to the moon complain 10 Of such as, wand'ring near her secret bow'r, Molest her ancient solitary reign. ^ Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, 15 The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. The breezy call of incense-breathing Morn, The swallow twitt'ring from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. 20 For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, Or busy housewife ply her evening care ; No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share. Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield, 25 Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke ; 80 LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. How jocund did they drive their team afield ! How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke ! Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, Their homely joys, and destiny obscure; 30 Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the poor. The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Await alike th' inevitable hour. 35 The paths of glory lead but to the grave. Nor you, ye Proud, impute to these the fault, If Mem'ry o'er their tomb no trophies raise, Where thro' the long-drawn isle and fretted vault The pealing anthem swells the note of praise. 40 ' v Can storied urn, or animated bust, Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? Can Honour's voice provoke the silent dust, Or Flatt'ry sooth the dull cold ear of Death? Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid 45 Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire ; Hands, that the rod of empire might have sway'd, Or wak'd to extasy the living lyre. But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page Rich with the spoils of time did ne'er unroll ; 50 Chill Penury repress'd their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the soul. Full many a gem of purest ray serene The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear : Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, 55 And waste its sweetness on the desert air. Some village- Hampd en, that, with dauntless breast, The little Tyrant of his fields withstood, Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood. 60 Th' applause of list'ning senates to command, The threats of pain and ruin to despise, To scatter plenty o'er a. smiling land, And read their hist'ry in a nation's eyes, GRAY. 8 1 Their lot forbad : nor circumscrib'd alone 65 Their growing virtues, but their crimes confin'd ; Forbad to wade through slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of mercy on mankind, The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide ? To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame, 70 Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride With incense kindled at the Muse's flame. Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife, Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray ; Along the cool sequester'd vale of life . 75 They kept the noiseless tenor of their way. Yet ev'n these bones from insult to protect Some frail memorial still erected nigh, With uncouth rhimes and shapeless sculpture deck'd, Implores the passing tribute of a sigh. 80 Their name, their years, spelt by th' un letter' d Muse, The place of fame and elegy supply : And many a holy text around she strews, That teach the rustic moralist to die. For who, to dumb Forgetfulness a prey, 85 This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd, Left the warm precincts of the chearful day, Nor cast one longing ling' ring look behind? On- some fond breast the parting soul relies, Some pious drops the closing eye requires; 90 Ev'n from the tomb the voice of Nature cries, Ev'n in our ashes live their wonted fires. For thee, who mindful of th' unhonour'd Dead Dost in these lines their artless tales relate; If chance, by lonely Contemplation led, 95 Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, "Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, To meet the sun upon the upland lawn. 100 ' There at the foot of yonder nodding beech, That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by. G 82 LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn, t 105 Mutt'ring his wayward fancies he would rove ; Now drooping, woeful wan, like one forlorn, Or craz'd with care, or cross' d in hopeless love. " One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill, Along the heath and near his fav'rite tree; no Another came ; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he ; " The next, with dirges due in sad array Slow thro' the church-way path we saw him born. Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay 115 Grav'd on the stone beneath yon aged thorn." THE EPITAPH. Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth, A youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown : Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth, And Melancholy mark'd him for her own. 120 Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere, Heav'n did a recompense as largely send : He gave to Mis'ry all he had, a tear, He gained from Heaven ('twas all he wish'd) a friend. No farther seek his merits to disclose, 125 Or draw his frailties from their dread abode, (There they alike in trembling hope repose,) The bosom of his Father and his God. THE PROGRESS OF POESY, i. i. AWAKE, ^Eolian lyre, awake, And give to rapture all thy trembling strings. From Helicon's harmonious springs A thousand rills their mazy progress take : The laughing flowers, that round them blow, Drink life and fragrance as they flow. Now the rich stream of music winds along, Deep, majestic, smooth, and strong, Thro' verdant vales, and Ceres' golden reign; Now rowling down the steep amain, GRA Y. 83 Headlong, impetuous, see it pour ; The rocks and nodding groves rebellow to the roar. I. 2. Oh ! Sovereign of the willing soul, Parent of sweet and solemn-breathing airs, Enchanting shell! the sullen Cares 15 And frantic Passions hear thy soft controul. On Thracia's hills the Lord of War Has curb'd the fury of his car, And drop'd his thirsty lance at thy command. Perching on the scept'red hand 2O Of Jove, thy magic lulls the feather'd king With ruffled plumes, and flagging wing : Quench'd in dark clouds of slumber lie The terror of his beak, and light'ning of his eye. I- 3- Thee the voice, the dance, obey, 25 Tern per' d to thy warbled lay. O'er Idalia's velvet-green The rosy-crowned Loves are seen On Cytherea's day With antic Sport, and blue-eyed Pleasures, 30 Frisking light in frolic measures ; Now pursuing, now retreating, Now in circling troops they meet : To brisk notes in cadence beating, Glance their many-twinkling feet. 35 Slow melting strains their Queen's approach declare : Where'er she turns, the Graces homage pay : With arms sublime, that float upon the air, In gliding state she wins her easy way : O'er her warm cheek, and rising bosom, move 40 The bloom of young Desire, and purple light of Love. II. I. / *7, 7 Man's feeble race what ills await ! Labour and Penury, the racks of Pain, Disease, and Sorrow's weeping train, And Death, sad refuge from the storms of Fate ! 4; G 2 LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. The fond complaint, my song, disprove, And justify the laws of Jove. Say, has he giv'n in vain the heav'nly Muse? Night and all her sickly dews, Her spectres wan, and birds of boding cry, q o He gives to range the dreary sky ; Till down the eastern cliffs afar Hyperion's march they spy, and glitt'ring shafts of war. In climes beyond the solar road, Where shaggy forms o'er ice-built mountains roam, 55 The Muse has broke the twilight -gloom To chear the shiv'ring native's dull abode. And oft, beneath the od'rous shade Of Chili's boundless forests laid, She deigns to hear the savage youth repeat, 60 In loose numbers wildly sweet, Their feather-cinctur'd chiefs, and dusky loves. Her track, where'er the Goddess roves, Glory pursue, and generous Shame, Th' unconquerable Mind, and Freedom's holy flame. 5^ v ii. 3- Woods, that wave o'er Delphi's steep, Isles, that crown th' ^Egean deep, Fields, that cool Ilissus laves, Or where Maeander's amber waves In lingering lab'rinths creep, 70 How do your tuneful echos languish, Mute, but to the voice of Anguish ! Where each old poetic mountain Inspiration breath' d around ; Ev'ry shade and hallow'd fountain 75 Murmur'd deep a solemn sound : Till the sad Nine, in Greece's evil hour, Left their Parnassus for the Latian plains. Alike they scorn the pomp of tyrant-Power, And coward Vice, that revels in her chains. 80 When Latium had her lofty spirit lost, They sought, oh Albion ! next thy sea-encircled coast. GKA Y. 85 III. I. Far from the sun and summer-gale, In thy green lap was Nature's Darling laid, What time, where lucid Avon stray'd, 85 To him the mighty Mother did unveil Her aweful face : The dauntless Child Stretch'd forth his little arms, and smil'd. "This pencil take (she said), whose colours clear Richly paint the vernal year : 90 Thine too these golden keys, immortal Boy ! This can unlock the gates of Joy ; Of Horror that, and thrilling Fears, Or ope the sacred source of sympathetic Tears." III. 2. Nor second He, that rode sublime nt Upon the seraph-wings of Extasy, The secrets of th' Abyss to spy. He pass'd the flaming bounds of Place and Time : The living Throne, the sapphire blaze, Where Angels tremble, while they gaze, IO Q He saw ; but, blasted with excess of light, Clos'd his eyes in endless night. Behold, where Dryden's less presumptuous car Wide o'er the fields of Glory bear Two Coursers of ethereal race, Io - With necks in thunder cloath'd, and long-resounding pace. in. 3. Hark, his hands the lyre explore ! Bright-ey'd Fancy, hovering o'er, Scatters from her pictur'd urn Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn. no But ah ! 'tis heard no more Oh ! Lyre divine, what daring Spirit Wakes thee now? Tho' he inherit Nor the pride, nor ample pinion, That the Theban Eagle bear, ,,5 Sailing with supreme dominion Thro' the azure deep of air : Yet oft before his infant eyes would run 86 LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. Such forms as glitter in the Muse's ray, With orient hues, unborrow'd of the sun : Yet shall he mount, and keep his distant way Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate, Beneath the Good how far ! but far above the Great. THE BARD. T. I. " RUIN seize thee, ruthless King ! Confusion on thy banners wait ; Tho' fann'd by Conquest's crimson wing, They mock the air with idle state. Helm, nor hauberk's twisted mail, 5 Nor e'en thy virtues, Tyrant, shall avail To save thy secret soul from nightly fears, From Cambria's curse, from Cambria's tears ! " Such were the sounds that o'er the crested pride Of the first Edward scatter'd wild dismay, jo As down the steep of Snowdon's shaggy side He wound with toilsome march his long array. Stout Glo'ster stood aghast in speechless trance : "To arms!" cried Mortimer, and couch'd his quiv'ring lance. I. 2. On a rock, whose haughty brow 15 Frowns o'er old Con way's foaming flood, Rob'd in the sable garb of woe, With haggard eyes the Poet stood (Loose his beard, and hoary hair Stream'd, like a meteor, to the troubled air), 20 And with a Master's hand and Prophet's fire Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre. " Hark, how each giant-oak, and desert cave, Sighs to the torrent's aweful voice beneath ! O'er thee, oh King ! their hundred arms they wave, 25 Revenge on thee in hoarser murmurs breathe ; Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day, To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay. GRA Y. 87 ,3. "Cold is Cadwallo's tongue, That hushed the stormy main : 30 Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed: Mountains, ye mourn in vain Modred, whose magic song Made huge Plinlimmon bow his cloud-top'd head. On dreary Arvon's shore they lie, 35 Smear' d with gore, and ghastly pale : Far, far aloof th' affrighted ravens sail ; The famish'd eagle screams, and passes by. Dear lost companions of my tuneful art, Dear, as the light that visits these sad eyes, 40 Dear, as the ruddy drops that warm my heart, Ye died amidst your dying country's cries No more I weep. They do not sleep. On yonder cliffs, a griesly band, I see them sit ; they linger yet, 45 Avengers of their native land : With me in dreadful harmony they join, And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line. " Weave the warp and weave the woof, The winding-sheet of Edward's race : 50 Give ample room, and verge enough The characters of hell to trace. Mark the year, and mark the night, When Severn shall re-echo with affright The shrieks of death thro' Berkley's roofs that ring, 55 Shrieks of an agonizing king ! She-wolf of France, with unrelenting fangs That tear'st the bowels of thy mangled mate, From thee be born, who o'er thy country hangs The scourge of heaven. What terrors round him wait ! 60 Amazement in his van, with Flight combined, And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude behind, CONGER ENGLISH POEMS. II. 2. " Mighty Victor, mighty Lord ! Low on his funeral couch he lies ! No pitying heart, no eye, afford 65 A tear to grace his obsequies. Is the sable warriour fled ? Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead. The swarm that in thy noontide beam were born ? Gone to salute the rising morn. 70 Fair laughs the Morn, and soft the Zephyr blows, While proudly riding o'er the azure realm In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes ; Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm ; Regardless of the sweeping Whirlwind's sway, 75 That, hush'd in grim repose, expects his evening-prey. (* n. 3. " Fill high the sparkling bowl, The rich repast prepare, Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast : Close by the regal chair 80 Fell Thirst and Famine scowl A baleful smile upon their baffled guest. Heard ye the din of battle bray, Lance to lance, and horse to horse? Long years of havock urge their desthvd course, 85 And thro' the kindred squadrons mow their way. Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame, With many a foul and midnight murther fed, Revere his Consort's faith, his Father's fame, And spare the meek Usurper's holy head ! 90 Above, below, the rose of snow, Twin'd with her blushing foe, we spread : The bristled Boar in infant-gore Wallows beneath the thorny shade. Now, brothers, bending o'er th' accursed loom, 95 Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom. GRA Y. 89 in. I. / y. 7 " Edward, lo ! to sudden fate (Weave we the woof. The thread is spun.) Half of thy heart we consecrate. (The web is wove. The work is done.) 100 Stay, oh stay ! nor thus forlorn Leave me unbless'd, unpitied, here to mourn : In yon bright track, that fires the western skies, They melt, they vanish from my eyes. But oh ! what solemn scenes on Snowdon's height 105 Descending slow their glitt'ring skirts unroll? Visions of glory, spare my aching sight ! Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul ! No more our long-lost Arthur we bewail. All hail, ye genuine kings, Britannia's issue, hail ! I IO III. 2. " Girt with many a baron bold Sublime their starry fronts they rear; And gorgeous dames, and statesmen old In bearded majesty, appear. In the midst a form divine! 11$ Her eye proclaims her of the Briton-line ; Her lion-port, her awe-commanding face, Attemper'd sweet to virgin-grace. What strings symphonious tremble in the air, What strains of vocal transport round her play, 120 Hear from the grave, great Taliessin, hear ; They breathe a soul to animate thy clay. Bright Rapture calls, and soaring, as she sings, Waves in the eye of Heav'n her many-colour'd wings. in. 3. "The verse adorn again 125 Fierce War and faithful Love And Truth severe by fairy Fiction drest. In buskin'd measures move Pale Grief, and pleasing Pain With Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast. 130 90 LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. A voice, as of the Cherub- Choir, Gales from blooming Eden bear; And distant warblings lessen on my ear, That lost in long futurity expire. Fond impious man, think'st thou yon sanguine cloud, 135 Rais'd by thy breath, has quench'd the orb of day ? To-morrow he repairs the golden flood, And warms the nations with redoubled ray. Enough for me : with joy I see The different doom our fates assign : 140 Be thine Despair, and scept'red Care ; To triumph and to die are mine." He spoke, and headlong from the mountain's height Deep in the roaring tide he plung'd to endless night. GOLDSMITH. 91 GOLDSMITH. THE TRAVELLER; OR, A PROSPECT OF SOCIETY. REMOTE, unfriended, melancholy, slow, Or by the lazy Scheld or wandering Po; Or onward, where the rude Carinthian boor Against the houseless stranger shuts the door; Or where Campania's plain forsaken lyes, 5 A weary waste expanding to the skies; Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see, My heart untravell'd fondly turns to thee ; Still to my brother turns, with ceaseless pain, And drags at each remove a lengthening chain. JO Eternal blessings crown my earliest friend, And round his dwelling guardian saints attend : Blest be that spot where cheerful guests retire To pause from toil, and trim their ev'ning fire : Blest that abode where want and pain repair, 15 And every stranger finds a ready chair : Blest be those feasts, with simple plenty crown'd, Where all the ruddy family around Laugh at the jests or pranks that never fail, Or sigh with pity at some mournful tale ; 2O Or press the bashful stranger to his food, And learn the luxury of doing good. But me, not destin'd such delights to share, My prime of life in wand'ring spent and care ; Impell'd, with steps unceasing, to pursue 2 5 Some fleeting good that mocks me with the view; 92 LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. That, like the circle bounding earth and skies, Allures from far, yet, as I follow, flies; My fortune leads to traverse realms alone, And find no spot of all the world my own. 30 Even now, where Alpine solitudes ascend, I sit me down a pensive hour to spend ; And plac'd on high above the storm's career, Look downward where an hundred realms appear ; Lakes, forests, cities, plains extending wide, 35 The pomp of kings, the shepherd's humbler pride. When thus Creation's charms around combine, Amidst the store should thankless pride repine? Say, should the philosophic mind disdain That good which makes each humbler bosom vain? 40 Let school-taught pride dissemble all it can, These little things are great to little man ; And wiser he, whose, sympathetic mind Exults in all the good of all mankind. Ye glitt'ring towns, with wealth and splendour crown'd; 45 Ye fields, where summer spreads profusion round ; Ye lakes, whose vessels catch the busy gale ; Ye bending swains, that dress the flow'ry vale ; For me your tributary stores combine : Creation's heir, the world, the world is mine. 5 As some lone miser, visiting his store, Bends at his treasure, counts, recounts it o'er ; Hoards after hoards his rising raptures fill, Yet still he sighs, for hoards are wanting still : Thus to my breast alternate passions rise, 55 Pleas'd with each good that Heaven to man supplies : Yet oft a sigh prevails, and sorrows fall, To see the hoard of human bliss so small ; And oft I wish amidst the scene to find Some spot to real happiness consign'd, 60 Where my worn soul, each wand'ring hope at rest, May gather bliss to see my fellows blest. But where to find that happiest spot below Who can direct, when all pretend to know? The shudd'ring tenant of the frigid zone 65 Boldly proclaims that happiest spot his own ; Extols the treasures of his stormy seas, And his long nights of revelry and ease : The naked negroe, panting at the line, GOLDSMITH. 93 Boasts of his golden sands and palmy wine, 70 Basks in the glare, or stems the tepid wave, And thanks his gods for all the good they gave. Such is the patriot's boast where'er we roam ; f J His first, best country ever is at home. And yet, perhaps, if countries we compare, 75 And estimate the blessings which they share, Tho' patriots flatter, still shall wisdom find An equal portion dealt to all mankind ; As different good, by Art or Nature given, To different nations makes their blessings even. 80 ^ Nature, a mother kind alike to all, Still grants her bliss at Labour's earnest call : With food as well the peasant is supply' d On Idra's cliffs as Arno's shelvy side; And though the rocky crested summits frown, 85 These rocks by custom turn to beds of down. From Art more various are the blessings sent ; Wealth, commerce, honour, liberty, content. Yet these each other's power so strong contest, That either seems destructive of the rest. 90 Where wealth and freedom reign, contentment fails And honour sinks where commerce long prevails. Hence every state, to one lov'd blessing prone, Conforms and models life to that alone. Each to the favourite happiness attends, 95 And spurns the plan that aims at other ends : 'Till carried to excess in each domain, This fav'rite good begets peculiar pain. But let us try these truths with closer eyes, And trace them through the prospect as it lies: Here for a while my proper cares resigned, Here let me sit in sorrow for mankind ; Like yon neglected shrub at random cast, That shades the steep, and sighs at every blast. Far to the right, where Apennine ascends, 105 Bright as the summer, Italy extends : Its uplands sloping deck the mountain's side, Woods over woods in gay theatric pride ; While oft some temple's mould' ring tops between With venerable grandeur mark the scene. HO- Could Nature's bounty satisfy the breast, The sons of Italy were surely blest. 94 LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. Whatever fruits in different climes were found, That proudly rise, or humbly court the ground ; Whatever blooms in torrid tracts appear, uq Whose bright succession decks the varied year; Whatever sweets salute the northern sky With vernal lives, that blossom but to die ; These, here disporting, own the kindred soil, Nor ask luxuriance from the planter's toil ; 1 20 While sea-born gales their gelid wings expand To winnow fragrance round the smiling land. But small the bliss that sense alone bestows, And sensual bliss is all the nation knows. In florid beauty groves and fields appear ; 125 Man seems the only growth that dwindles here. Contrasted faults through all his manners reign : Though poor, luxurious ; though submissive, vain ; Though grave, yet trifling ; zealous, yet untrue ; And ev'n in penance planning sins anew. 1 3 All evils here contaminate the mind That opulence departed leaves behind ; For wealth was theirs, not far remov'd the date When commerce proudly flourish'd through the state ; At her command the palace learnt to rise, 135 Again the long-fallen column sought the skies, The canvas glow'd, beyond e'en nature warm, The pregnant quarry teem'd with human form ; Till, more unsteady than the southern gale, Commerce on other shores display'd her sail ; 14 While nought remain'd of all that riches gave, But towns unman'd, and lords without a slave : And late the nation found with fruitless skill Its former strength was but plethoric ill. / Yet still the loss of wealth is here supplied 145 By arts, the splendid wrecks of former 'pride ; From these the feeble heart and long-fall'n mind An easy compensation seem to find. Here may be seen, in bloodless pomp array'd, The paste-board triumph and the cavalcade, t co Processions form'd for piety and love, A mistress or a saint in every grove. By sports like these are all their cares beguil'd; The sports of children satisfy the child. Each nobler aim, represt by long controul, x c^ GOLDSMITH. 95 Now sinks at last, or feebly mans the soul; While low delights, succeeding fast behind, In happier meanness occupy the mind : As in those domes where Caesars once bore sway, Defac'd by time and tottering in decay, 1 g o There in the ruin, heedless of the dead, The shelter-seeking peasant builds his shed ; And, wond'ring man could want the larger pile, Exults, and owns his cottage with a smile. My soul, turn from them, turn we to survey, 165 Where rougher climes a nobler race display ; Where the bleak Swiss their stormy mansions tread, And force a churlish soil for scanty bread. No product here the barren hills afford, But man and steel, the soldier and his sword : X 7 No vernal blooms their torpid rocks array, But winter ling'ring chills the lap of May : No Zephyr fondly sues the mountain's breast, But meteors glare, and stormy glooms invest. Yet, still, even here content can spread a charm, *75 Redress the clime, and all its rage disarm. Though poor the peasant's hut, his feasts tho' small, He sees his little lot the lot of all ; Sees no contiguous palace rear its head To shame the meanness of his humble shed j X 8o No costly lord the sumptuous banquet deal To make him loath his vegetable meal ; But calm, and bred in ignorance and toil, Each wish contracting fits him to the soil. Chearful at morn he wakes from short repose, * *5 Breathes the keen air, and carrols as he goes ; With patient angle trolls the finny deep ; Or drives his venturous plow-share to the steep ; Or seeks the den where snow-tracks mark the way, And drags the struggling savage into day. I 9 At night returning, every labour sped, He sits him down the monarch of a shed ; Smiles by his chearful fire, and round surveys His children's looks, that brighten at the blaze ; While his lov'd partner, boastful of her hoard, 195 Displays her cleanly platter on the board : And haply too some pilgrim, thither led, With many a tale repays the nightly bed. 96 LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. Thus every good his native wilds impart Imprints the patriot passion on his heart ; 2OO And e'en those ills that round his mansion rise Enhance the bliss his scanty fund supplies. Dear is that shed to which his soul conforms, And dear that hill which lifts him to the storms ; And as a child, when scaring sounds molest, 2O t Clings close and closer to the mother's breast, So the loud torrent and the whirlwind's roar But bind him to his native mountains more. Such are the charms to barren states assign'd ; Their wants but few, their wishes all confin'd. 210 Yet let them only share the praises due : If few their wants, their pleasures are but few ', For every want that stimulates the breast Becomes a source of pleasure when redrest ; Whence from such lands each pleasing science flies 215 That first excites desire, and then supplies ; Unknown to them, when sensual pleasures cloy, To fill the languid pause with finer joy ; Unknown those powers that raise the soul to flame, Catch every nerve, and vibrate through the frame. 220 Their level life is but a smould'ring fire, Unquench'd by want, unfann'd by strong desire ; Unfit for raptures, or, if raptures cheer On some high festival of once a year, In wild excess the vulgar breast takes fire, 225 Till, buried in debauch, the bliss expire. But not their joys alone thus coarsely flow : Their morals, like, their pleasures, are but low ; For, as refinement stops, from sire to son Unaller'd, unimprov'd, the manners run, 230 And love's and friendship's finely-pointed dart Fall blunted from each indurated heart. Some sterner virtues o'er the mountain's breast May sit, like falcons, cow' ring on the nest ; But all the gentler morals, such as play 235 Thro' life's more culter'd walks, and charm the way, These, far dispers'd, on timorous pinions fly, To sport and flutter in a kinder sky. To kinder skies, where gentler manners reign, I turn ; and France displays her bright domain. 240 Gay, sprightly land of mirth and social ease, GOLDSMITH. Pleas'd with thyself, whom all the world can please, How often have I led thy sportive choir, With tuneless pipe, beside the murmuring Loire? Where shading elms along the margin grew, 245 And freshen'd from the wave the Zephyr flew ; And haply, though my harsh touch, faltering still, But mocked all tune, and marr'd the dancer's skill, Yet would the village praise my wonderous power, And dance, forgetful of the noon-tide hour. 250 Alike all ages. Dames of ancient days Have led their children through the mirthful maze, And the gay grandsire, skill' d in gestic lore, Has frisk' d beneath the burthen of threescore. So blest a life these thoughtless realms display ; 255 Thus idly busy rolls their world away ; Theirs are those arts that mind to mind endear, For honour forms the social temper here. Honour, that praise which real merit gains, Or even imaginary worth obtains, 260 Here passes current : paid from hand to hand, It shifts in splendid traffic round the land ; From courts to camps, to cottages, it strays, And all are taught an avarice of praise. They please, are pleas'd; they give to get esteem; 265 Till, seeming blest, they grow to what they seem. But while this softer art their bliss supplies, It gives their follies also room to rise ; For praise too dearly lov'd, or warmly sought, Enfeebles all internal strength of thought, 270 And the weak soul, within itself unblest, Leans for all pleasure on another's breast. Hence ostentation here, with tawdry art, Pants for the vulgar praise which fools impart; Here vanity assumes her pert grimace, 275 And trims her robes of frize with copper lace ; Here beggar pride defrauds her daily cheer, To boast one splendid banquet once a year; The mind still turns where shifting fashion draws, Nor weighs the solid worth of self-applause. 280 To men of other minds my fancy flies, Embosom'd in the deep where Holland lies. Methinks her patient sons before me stand, Where the broad ocean leans against the land, H 98 LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. And, sedulous to stop the coming tide, 285 Lift the tall rampire's artificial pride. Onward methinks, and diligently slow, The firm connected bulwark seems to grow ; Spreads its long arms amidst the watry roar, Scoops out an empire, and usurps the shore. 290 While the pent ocean, rising o'er the pile, Sees an amphibious world beneath him smile : The slow canal, the yellow blossom'd vale, The willow tufted bank, the gliding sail, The crowded mart, the cultivated plain, 295 A new creation rescu'd from his reign. J Thus while around the wave -subjected soil Impels the native to repeated toil, Industrious habits in each bosom reign, And industry begets a love of gain. 300 Hence all the good from opulence that springs, With all those ills superfluous treasure brings, Are here display' d. Their much-lov'd wealth imparts Convenience, plenty, elegance, and arts : But view them closer, craft and fraud appear; 305 E'en liberty itself is barter'd here. At gold's superior charms all freedom flies ; The needy sell it, and the rich man buys ; A land of tyrants, and a den of slaves, Here wretches seek dishonourable graves, 310 And calmly bent, to servitude conform, Dull as their lakes that slumber in the storm. Heavens ! how unlike their Belgic sires of old Rough, poor, content, ungovernably bold ; War in each breast, and freedom on each brow : 315 How much unlike the sons of Britain now ! Fir'd at the sound, my genius spreads her wing, And flies where Britain courts the western spring ; Where lawns extend that scorn Arcadian pride, And brighter streams than fam'd Hydaspis glide. 320 There all around the gentlest breezes stray ; There gentle music melts on every spray ; Creation's mildest charms are there combin'd, Extremes are only in the master's mind ! Stern o'er each bosom Reason holds her state, 325 With daring aims irregularly great ; Pride in their port, defiance in their eye, GOLDSMITH. 99 I see the lords of human kind pass by; Intent on high designs, a thoughtful band, By forms unfashion'd, fresh from Nature's hand, 330 Fierce in their native hardiness of soul, True to imagin'd right, above controul, While even the peasant boasts these rights to scan, And learns to venerate himself as man. Thine, Freedom, thine the blessings pictur'd here ; 335 Thine are those charms that dazzle and endear : Too blest indeed, were such without alloy : But foster'd even by Freedom ills annoy : That independence Britons prize too high Keeps man from man, and breaks the social tie ; 340 The self-dependent lordlings stand alone, All claims that bind and sweeten life unknown. Here, by the bonds of nature feebly held, Minds combat minds, repelling and repell'd ; Ferments arise, imprison'd factions roar, 345 Represt ambition struggles round her shore, Till, over- wrought, the general system feels Its motions stop, or phrenzy fire the wheels. Nor this the worst. As nature's ties decay, As duty, love, and honour fail to sway, 350 Fictitious bonds, the bonds of wealth and law, Still gather strength, and force unwilling awe. Hence all obedience bows to these alone, And talent sinks, and merit weeps unknown : Till time may come, when, stript of all her charms, 355 The land of scholars and the nurse of arms, Where noble stems transmit the patriot flame, Where kings have toil'd and poets wrote for fame, One sink of level avarice shall lie, And scholars, soldiers, kings, unhonour'd die. 360 Yet think not, thus when Freedom's ills I state, I mean to flatter kings, or court the great : Ye powers of truth that bid my soul aspire, Far from my bosom drive the low desire. And thou, fair Freedom, taught alike to feel J 365 The rabble's rage and tyrant's angry steel ; Thou transitory flower, alike undone By proud contempt or favour's fostering sun, Still may thy blooms the changeful clime endure ! I only would repress them to secure : 37 H 2 LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. For just experience tells, in every soil, That those who think must govern those that toil ; And all that Freedom's highest aims can reach Is but to lay proportion'd loads on each. Hence, should one order disproportioned grow, 375 Its double weight must ruin all below. O then how blind to all that truth requires, Who think it freedom when a part aspires ! Calm is my soul, nor apt to rise in arms, Except when fast approaching danger warms ; 3^ But when contending chiefs blockade the throne, Contracting regal power to stretch their own, When I behold a factious band agree To call it freedom when themselves are free, Each wanton judge new penal statutes draw, 3^5 Laws grind the poor, and rich men rule the law, The wealth of climes where savage nations roam Pillag'd from slaves to purchase slaves at home, Fear, pity, justice, indignation start, Tear off reserve, and bare my swelling heart ; 390 'Till half a patriot, half a coward grown, I fly from petty tyrants to the throne. Yes, brother, curse with me that baleful hour When first ambition struck at regal power ; And thus polluting honour in its source, 395 Gave wealth to sway the mind with double force. Have we not seen, round Britain's peopled shore, Her useful sons exchanged for useless ore, Seen all her triumphs but destruction haste, Like flaring tapers brightening as they waste? 400 Seen opulence, her grandeur to maintain, Lead stern depopulation in her train, And over fields where scattered hamlets rose In barren solitary pomp repose? Have we not seen at pleasure's lordly call 405 The smiling long-frequented village fall? Beheld the duteous son, the sire decay'd, The modest matron, and the blushing maid, Forc'd from their homes, a melancholy train, To traverse climes beyond the western main ; 410 Where wild Oswego spreads her swamps around, And Niagara stuns with thund'ring sound ? Even now, perhaps, as there some pilgrim strays GOLDSMITH. Through tangled forests and through dangerous ways, Where beasts with man divided empire claim, 415 And the brown Indian marks with murderous aim ; There, while above the giddy tempest flies, And all around distressful yells arise, The pensive exile, bending with his woe, To stop too fearful, and too faint to go, >ir,. : 420 Casts a long look where England's glories shine, And bids his bosom sympathize with mine. Vain, very vain, my weary search to find That bliss which only centers in the mind : Why have I stray'd from pleasure and repose, 425 To seek a good each government bestows ? In every government, though terrors reign, Though tyrant kings or tyrant laws restrain, [' How small, of all that human hearts endure, / That part which laws or kings can cause or cure ; 430 Still to ourselves in every place consign'd, Our own felicity we make or find : Wit With secret course, which no loud storms annoy, Glides the smooth current of domestic joy. The lifted ax, the agonizing wheel, 435 I Luke's iron crown, and Damien's bed of steel, To men remote from power but rarely known, \ Leave reason, faith, and conscience all our own, THE DESERTED VILLAGE. SWEET AUBURN ! loveliest village of the plain ; Where health and plenty cheared the labouring swain, Where smiling spring its earliest visit paid, And parting summer's lingering blooms delayed: Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease, r Seats of my youth, when every sport could please, How often have I loitered o'er thy green, Where humble happiness endeared each scene ! How often have I paused on every charm, The sheltered cot, the cultivated farm, IO The never-failing brook, the busy mill, LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. The decent church that topt the neighbouring hill, The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade, For talking age and whispering lovers made ! How often have I blest the coming day, 15 When toil remitting lent its turn to play, And all the village train, from labour free, Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree, While many a pastime circled in the shade, The young contending as the old surveyed; 2O And many a gambol frolicked o'er the ground, And sleights of art and feats of strength went round. And still, as each repeated pleasure tired, Succeeding sports the mirthful band inspired ; The dancing pair that simply sought renown 25 By holding out to tire each other down; The swain mistrustless of his smutted face, While secret laughter tittered round the place; The bashful virgin's side-long looks of love, The matron's glance that would those looks reprove. 30 These were thy charms, sweet village ! sports like these, With sweet succession, taught even toil to please : These round thy bowers their chearful influence shed : These were thy charms but all these charms are fled. Sweet smiling village, loveliest of the lawn, c v Thy sports are fled, and all thy charms withdrawn ; Amidst thy bowers the tyrant's hand is seen, And desolation saddens all thy green : One on]y 'master g^ps 'the whole domain, And half a tillage stints thy smiling plain. 40 No mor^ thy glassy brook reflect^, the day, Tiar, c*ioi:Veo -.nth sedges works its weedy way ; Along thy glades, a solitary guest, The hollow sounding bittern guards its nest ; Amidst thy desert walks the lapwing flies, ** And tires their ecchoes with unvaried cries; Sunk are thy bowers in shapeless ruin all, And the long grass o'ertops the mouldering wall; And trembling, shrinking from the spoiler's hand, Far, far away thy children leave the land* ,- o 111 fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, Where wealth accumulates, and men decay : Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade; A breath can make them, as a breath has made : GOLDSMITH. 103 But a bold peasantry, their country's pride, 55 When once destroyed, can never be supplied. A time there was, ere England's griefs began, When every rood of ground maintained its man ; For him light labour spread her wholesome store, Just gave what life required, but gave no more : 60 His best Companions, innocence and health; And his best riches, ignorance of wealth. But times are altered; trade's unfeeling train Usurp the land and dispossess the swain; Along the lawn, where scattered hamlets rose, 65 Unwieldy wealth and cumbrous pomp repose, And every want to opulence allied, And every pang that folly pays to pride. These gentle hours that plenty bade to bloom, Those calm desires that asked but little room, 70 Those healthful sports that graced the peaceful scene, Lived in each look, and brightened all the green; These, far departing, seek a kinder shore, And rural mirth and manners are no more. Sweet Auburn ! parent of the blissful hour, 75 Thy glades forlorn confess the tyrant's power. Here, as I take my solitary rounds Amidst thy tangling walks and ruined grounds, And, many a year elapsed, return to view Where once the cottage stood, the hawthorn grew, 80 Remembrance wakes with all her busy train, Swells at my breast, and turns the past to pain. In all my wanderings round this world of care, In all my griefs and GOD has given my share I still had hopes, my latest hours to crown, 85 Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down ; To husband out life's taper at the close, And keep the flame from wasting by repose : I still had hopes, for pride attends us still, Amidst the swains to show my book-learned skill, 90 Around my fire an evening groupe to draw, And tell of all I felt, and all I saw ; And, as an hare whom hounds and horns pursue Pants to the place from whence at first she flew, I still had hopes, my long vexations past, 95 Here to return and die at home at last. O blest retirement, friend to life's decline, I04 L ONGER ENGLISH POEMS. Retreats from care, that never must be mine, How happy he who crowns in shades like these A youth of labour with an age of ease ; 100 Who quits a world where strong temptations try, And, since 'tis hard to combat, learns to fly ! For him no wretches, born to work and weep, Explore the mine, or tempt the dangerous deep; No surly porter stands in guilty state, 105 To spurn imploring famine from the gate ; But on he moves to meet his latter end, Angels around befriending Virtue's friend; Bends to the grave with unperceived decay, While resignation gently slopes the way; no And, all his prospects brightening to the last, His heaven commences ere the world be past ! Sweet was the sound, when oft at evening's close Up yonder hill the village murmur rose. There, as I past with careless steps and slow, 115 The mingling notes came softened from below ; The swain responsive as the milk-maid sung, The sober herd that lowed to meet their young, The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool, The playful children just let loose from school, 120 The watch-dog's voice that bayed the whispering wind, And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind ; These all in sweet confusion sought the shade, And filled each pause the nightingale had made. But now the sounds of population fail, 125 No chearful murmurs fluctuate in the gale, No busy steps the grass-grown foot-way tread, For all the bloomy flush of life is fled. All but yon widowed, solitary thing, That feebly bends beside the plashy spring : j^o She, wretched matron, forced in age, for bread, To strip the brook with mantling cresses spread, To pick her wintry faggot from the thorn, To seek her nightly shed, and weep till morn ; She only left of all the harmless train, J35 The sad historian of the pensive plain. Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, And still where many a garden flower grows wild ; There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's modest mansion rose. 140 GOLDSMITH. A man he was to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year; Remote from towns he ran his godly race, Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change his place ; Unpractised he to fawn, or seek for power, l ^ By doctrines fashioned to the varying hour ; Far other aims his heart had learned to prize, More skilled to raise the wretched than to rise. His house was known to ail the vagrant train; He chid their wanderings but relieved their pain : 1 50 The long remembered beggar was his guest, Whose beard descending swept his aged breast ; The ruined spendthrift, now no longer proud, Claimed kindred there, and had his claims allowed ; The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay, 155 Sat by his fire, and talked the night away, Wept o'er his wounds or tales of sorrow done, Shouldered his crutch and shewed how fields were won. Pleased with his guests, the good man learned to glow, And quite forgot their vices in their woe ; 1 60 Careless their merits or their faults to scan, His pity gave ere charity began. Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride, And e'en his failings leaned to Virtue's side ; . But in his duty prompt at every call, j6$ He watched and wept, he prayed and felt for all ; And, as a bird each fond endearment tries To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies, He tried each art, reproved each dull delay, Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way. jy o Beside the bed where parting life was laid, And sorrow, guilt, and pain by turns dismayed, The reverend champion stood. At his control Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul ; Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise, 175 And his last faultering accents whispered praise. At church, with meek and unaffected grace, His looks adorned the venerable place ; Truth from his lips prevailed with double sway, And fools, who came to scoff, remained to pray. 1 80 The service past, around the pious man, With steady zeal, each honest rustic ran ; Even children followed with endearing wile- io6 LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. And plucked his gown to share the good man's smile. His ready smile a parent's warmth exprest ; 185 Their welfare pleased him, and their cares distrest : To them his heart, his love, his griefs were given, But all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven. As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form, Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm, 190 Tho' round its breast the rolling clouds are spread,, Eternal sunshine settles on its head. Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way, With blossom'd furze unprofitably gay, There, in his noisy mansion, skilPd to rule, 195 The village master taught his little school. A man severe he was, and stern to view ; I knew him well, and every truant knew : Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace The day's disasters in his morning face ; 200 Full well they laughed with counterfeited glee At all his jokes, for many a joke had he; Full well the busy whisper circling round Conveyed the dismal tidings when he frowned. Yet he was kind, or, if severe in aught, 205 The love he bore to learning was in fault ; The village all declared how much he knew : 'Twas certain he could write, and cypher too ; Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage, And even the story ran that he could gauge : 2IO In arguing, too, the parson owned his skill, For, even tho' vanquished, he could argue still ; While words of learned length and thundering sound Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around ; And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew, 215 That one small head could carry all he knew. But past is all his fame. The very spot Where many a time he triumphed is forgot. Near yonder thorn, that lifts its head on high, Where once the sign-post caught the passing eye, 220 Low lies that house where nut-brown draughts inspired, Where grey-beard mirth and smiling toil retired, Where village statesmen talked with looks profound, And news much older than their ale went round. Imagination fondly stoops to trace 225 The parlour splendours of that festive place : GOLDSMITH. 107 The white-washed wall, the nicely sanded floor, The varnished clock that clicked behind the door ; The chest contrived a double debt to pay, A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day ; 230 The pictures placed for ornament and use, The twelve good rules, the royal game of goose ; The hearth, except when winter chill'd the day, With aspen boughs and flowers and fennel gay; While broken tea-cups, wisely kept for shew, 235 Ranged o'er the chimney, glistened in a row. Vain transitory splendours ! could not all Reprieve the tottering mansion from its fall? Obscure it sinks, nor shall it more impart An hour's importance to the poor man's heart. 240 Thither no more the peasant shalj repair To sweet oblivion of his daily care ; No more the farmer's news, the barber's tale, No more the wood-man's ballad shall prevail ; No more the smith his dusky brow shall clear, 245 Relax his ponderous strength, and lean to hear ; The host himself no longer shall be found Careful to see the mantling bliss go round ; Nor the coy maid, half willing to be prest, Shall kiss the cup to pass it to the rest. 250 Yes ! let the rich deride, the proud disdain, These simple blessings of the lowly train ; To me more dear, congenial to my heart, One native charm, than all the gloss of art ; Spontaneous joys, where Nature has its play, 255 The soul adopts, and owns their first born sway, Lightly they frolic o'er the vacant mind, Unenvied, unmolested, unconfined. But the long pomp, the midnight masquerade, With all the freaks of wanton wealth arrayed 260 In these, ere triflers half their wish obtain, The toiling pleasure sickens into pain ; And, e'en while fashion's brightest arts decoy, The heart distrusting asks if this be joy. Ye friends to truth, ye statesman who survey 265 The rich man's joys encrease, the poor's decay, Tis yours to judge, how wide the limits stand Between a splendid and an happy land. Proud swells the tide with loads of freighted ore, io8 LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. And shouting Folly hails them from her shore ; 270 Hoards e'en beyond the miser's wish abound, And rich men flock from all the world around. Yet count our gains. This wealth is but a name That leaves our useful products still the same. Not so the loss. The man of wealth and pride 275 Takes up a space that many poor supplied; Space for his lake, his park's extended bounds, Space for his horses, equipage, and hounds : The robe that wraps his limbs in silken sloth Has robbed the neighbouring fields of half their growth ; 280 His seat, where solitary sports are seen, Indignant spurns the cottage from the green : Around the world each needful product flies, For all Hhe luxuries the world supplies ; While thus the land adorned for pleasure all 285 In barren splendour feebly waits the fall. As some fair female unadorned and plain, Secure to please while youth confirms her reign, Slights every 'borrowed charm that dress supplies, Nor shares with art the triumph of her eyes ; 290 But when those charms are past, for charms are frail, When time advances, and when lovers fail, She then shines forth, sollicitous to bless, In all the glaring impotence of dress. Thus fares the land by luxury betrayed : 295 In nature's simplest charms at first arrayed, But verging to decline, its splendours rise ; Its vistas strike, its palaces surprize : While, scourged by famine from the smiling land, The mournful peasant leads his humble band, 300 And while he sinks, without one arm to save, The country blooms a garden and a grave. Where then, ah ! where, shall poverty reside, To scape the pressure of contiguous pride? If to some common's fenceless limits strayed 305 He drives his flock to pick the scanty blade, Those fenceless fields the sons of wealth divide, And even the bare- worn common is denied. If to the city sped what waits him there? To see profusion that he must not share ; 310 To see ten thousand baneful arts combined To pamper luxury, and thin mankind ; GOLDSMITH. 109 To see those joys the sons of pleasure know Extorted from his fellow- creature's woe. Here while the courtier glitters in brocade, 3115 There the pale artist plies the sickly trade ; Here while the proud their long-drawn pomps display, There the black gibbet glooms beside the way. The dome where pleasure holds her midnight reign Here, richly deckt, admits the gorgeous train : 3 2 Tumultuous grandeur crowds the blazing square, The rattling chariots clash, the torches glare. Sure scenes like these no troubles e'er annoy ! Sure these denote one universal joy ! Are these thy serious thoughts? Ah, turn thine eyes 325 Where the poor houseless shivering female lies. She once, perhaps, in village plenty blest, Has wept at tales of innocence distrest ; Her modest looks the cottage might adorn, Sweet as the primrose peeps beneath the thorn : 330 Now lost to all ; her friends, her virtue fled, Near her betrayer's door she lays her head, And, pinch'd with cold, and shrinking from the shower, With heavy heart deplores that luckless hour, When idly first, ambitious of the town, 335 She left her wheel and robes of country brown. Do thine, sweet Auburn, thine, the loveliest train, Do thy fair tribes participate her pain ? Even now, perhaps, by cold and hunger led, At proud men's doors they ask a little bread ! 34 Ah, no ! To distant climes, a dreary scene, Where half the convex world intrudes between, Through torrid tracts with fainting steps they go, Where wild Altama murmurs to their woe. Far different there from all that charm' d before.. 345 The various terrors of that horrid shore ; Those blazing suns that dart a downward ray, And fiercely shed intolerable day ; Those matted woods, where birds forget to sing, But silent bats in drowsy clusters cling ; 35 Those poisonous fields with rank luxuriance crowned, Where the dark scorpion gathers death around ; Where at each step the stranger fears to wake The rattling terrors of the vengeful snake ; Where crouching tigers wait their hapless prey, 355 LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. And savage men more murderous still than they ; While oft in whirls the mad tornado flies, Mingling the ravaged landschape with the skies. Far different these from every former scene, The cooling brook, the grassy vested green, 36 The breezy covert of the warbling grove, That only sheltered thefts of harmless love. Good Heaven ! what sorrows gloom'd that parting day, That called them from their native walks away ; When the poor exiles, every pleasure past, 365 Hung round the bowers, and fondly looked their last, And took a long farewel, and wished in vain For seats like these beyond the western main, And shuddering still to face the distant deep, Returned and wept, and still returned to weep. 370 The good old sire the first prepared to go To new found worlds, and wept for others' woe ; But for himself, in conscious virtue brave, He only wished for worlds beyond the grave. His lovely daughter, lovelier in her tears, 375 The fond companion of his helpless years, Silent went next, neglectful of her charms, And left a lover's for a father's arms. With louder plaints the mother spoke her woes, And blest the cot where every pleasure rose, 380 And kist her thoughtless babes with many a tear, And claspt them close, in sorrow doubly dear, Whilst her fond husband strove to lend relief In all the silent manliness of grief. O luxury ! thou curst by Heaven's decree, 3^5 How ill exchanged are things like these for thee ! How do thy potions, with insidious joy, Diffuse their pleasure only to destroy ! Kingdoms by thee, to sickly greatness grown, Boast of a florid vigour not their own. 39 At every draught more large and large they grow, A bloated mass of rank unwieldy woe ; Till sapped their strength, and every part unsound, Down, down they sink, and spread a ruin round. Even now the devastation is begun, 395 And half the business of destruction done ; Even now, methinks, as pondering here I stand, I see the rural virtues leave the land. GOLDSMITH. UI Down where yon anchoring vessel spreads the sail, That idly waiting flaps with every gale, 400 Downward they move, a melancholy band, Pass from the shore, and darken all the strand. Contented toil, and hospitable care, And kind connubial tenderness, are there; And piety with wishes placed above, 405 And steady loyalty, and faithful love. And thou, sweet Poetry, thou loveliest maid, Still first to fly where sensual joys invade ; Unfit in these degenerate times of shame To catch the heart, or strike for honest fame ; 410 Dear charming nymph, neglected and decried, My shame in crowds, my solitary pride; Thou source of all my bliss, and all my woe, That found'st me poor at first, and keep'st me so ; Thou guide by which the nobler arts excel, 415 Thou nurse of every virtue, fare thee well ! Farewell, and O ! where'er thy voice be tried, On Torno's cliffs, or Pambamarca's side, Whether where equinoctial fervours glow, Or winter wraps the polar world in snow, 420 Still let thy voice, prevailing over time, Redress the rigours of the inclement clime ; Aid slighted truth j with thy persuasive strain ; Teach erring man to spurn the rage of gain ; Teach him, that states of native strength possest, 425 Tho J very poor, may still be very blest ; That trade's proud empire hastes to swift decay, As ocean sweeps the laboured mole away ; While self-dependent power can time defy, As rocks resist the billows and the sky. 430 LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. BURNS. THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT. MY lov'd, my honor'd, much respected friend ? No mercenary bard his homage pays : With honest pride I scorn each selfish end, My dearest meed, a friend's esteem and praise : To you I sing in simple Scottish lays 5 The lowly train in life's sequester'd scene ; The native feelings strong, the guileless ways ; What Aiken in a cottage would have been ; Ah ! tho' his worth unknown, far happier there, I ween. November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh ; 10 The short'ning winter-day is near a close ; The miry beasts retreating frae the pleugh ; The black'ning trains o' craws to their repose : The toil-worn Cotter frae his labour goes, This night his weekly moil is at an end, 15 Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes, Hoping the morn in ease and rest to spend, And weary, o'er the moor, his course does hameward bend. At length his lonely cot appears in view, Beneath the shelter of an aged tree ; 20 Th' expectant wee-things, toddlin, stacher through To meet their Dad, wi' flichterin noise an' glee. His wee bit ingle, blinkin bonilie, His clean hearth -stane, his thriftie wifie's smile, The lisping infant prattling on his knee, 25 Does a' his weary carking cares beguile, An' makes him quite forget his labor an' his toil. BURNS, 113 Belyve the elder bairns come drapping in, At service out amang the farmers roun'; Some ca' the pleugh, some herd, some tentie rin 30 A cannie errand to a neebor town : Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman-grown, In youthfu' bloom, love sparkling in her e'e, Comes hame, perhaps, to shew a braw new gown, Or deposite her sair-won penny-fee, 35 To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be. Wi' joy unfeign'd brothers and sisters meet, An' each for other's weelfare kindly speirs : The social hours, swift-wing'd, unnotic'd fleet ; Each tells the uncos that he sees or hears ; 40 The parents, partial, eye their hopeful years ; Anticipation forward points the view. The mother wi' her needle an' her sheers Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the new ; The father mixes a' wi' admonition due. 45 Their master's an' their mistress's command The younkers a' are warned to obey ; An' mind their labours wi' an eydent hand, An' ne'er, tho' out o' sight, to jauk or play : An' Oh ! be sure to fear the Lord alway, 5 ' An' mind your duty, duely, morn an' night ! Lest in temptation's path ye gang astray, Implore His counsel and assisting might : j They never sought in vain that sought the Lord aright ! ' But hark ! a rap comes gently to the door; 55 Jenny, wha kens the meaning o' the same, Tells how a neebor lad cam o'er the moor To do some errands, and convoy her hame. The wily mother sees the conscious flame Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, and flush her cheek ; 60 With heart-struck, anxious care, inquires his name, While Jenny hafflins is afraid to speak; Weel pleas'd the mother hears, it's nae wild, worthless rake. Wi' kindly welcome Jenny brings him ben ; A strappan youth ; he takes the mother's eye ; 65 Blythe Jenny sees the visit's no ill ta'en ; The father cracks of horses, pleughs, and kye. H 4 LONGER ENGLISH POEMS. The youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi' joy, But, blate and laithfu', scarce can weel behave; The mother, wi' a woman's wiles, can spy 70 What makes the youth sae bashfu' an' sae grave ; Weel-pleas'd to think her bairn's respected like the lave. O happy love ! where love like this is found ! O heart-felt raptures ! bliss beyond compare ! I've paced much this weary, mortal round, 75 And sage experience bids me this declare ' If Heaven a draught of heav'nly pleasure spare, One cordial in this melancholy vale, 'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair In other's arms breathe out the tender tale 80 Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the ev'ning gale.' Is there, in human form, that bears a heart A wretch ! a villain ! lost to love and truth ! That can with studied, sly, ensnaring art Betray sweet Jenny's unsuspecting youth? 85 Curse on his perjur'd arts 1 dissembling smooth ! Are honour, virtue, conscience, all exil'd? Is there no pity, no relenting ruth, Points to the parents fondling o'er their child? Then paints the ruin'd maid, and their distraction wild ! 90 But now the supper crowns their simple board, The healsome parritch, chief o' Scotia's food : The soupe their only Hawkie does afford, That 'yont the hallen snugly chows her cood ; The dame brings forth in complimental mood, 95 To grace the lad, her weel-hain'd kebbuck, fell, An' aft he's prest, an' aft he ca's it guid ; The frugal wifie, garrulous, will tell, How 'twas a towmond auld, sin' lint was i' the bell. The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face 100 They round the ingle form a circle wide; The sire turns o'er wi' patriarchal grace The big ha'-Bible, ance his father's pride : His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside, His lyart haffets wearing thin an' bare ; 10$ ~ BURNS. 115 Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, He wales a portion with judicious care ; And ' Let us worship God ! ' he says, with solemn air. They chant their artless notes in simple guise; They tune their hearts, by far the noblest aim ; ! Io Perhaps Dundee's wild warbling measures rise, Or plaintive Martyrs, worthy of the name ; Or noble Elgin beets the heav'nward flame, The sweetest far of Scotia's holy lays : Compar'd with these, Italian trills are tame; 115 The tickl'd ears no heart-felt raptures raise ; Nae unison hae they with our Creator's praise. The priest-like father reads the sacred page, How Abram was the friend of God on high ; Or, Moses bade eternal warfare wage 120 With Amalek's ungracious progeny ; Or how the royal Bard did groaning lie Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire ; Or Job's pathetic plaint, and wailing cry ; Or rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire; 125 Or other holy Seers that tune the sacred lyre. Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme ; How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed ; How He, who bore in heaven the second name, Had not on earth whereon to lay his Head ; 130 How His first followers and servants sped : The precepts sage they wrote to many a land ; How he, who lone in Patmos banished. Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand ; And heard great Babylon's doom pronounced by Heaven's command. Then kneeling down, to Heaven's Eternal King The saint, the father, and the husband prays : Hope 'springs exulting on triumphant wing,' That thus they all shall meet in future days : There ever bask in uncreated rays, 14 No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear, Together hymning their Creator's praise, In such society, yet still more dear ; * While circling Time moves round in an eternal sphere. I 2 1 1 6 L ONGER ENGLISH POEMS. Compar'd with this, how poor Religion's pride, 145 In all the pomp of method, and of art, When men display to congregations wide Devotion's ev'ry grace, except the heart! The Pow'r, incens'd, the pageant will desert, The pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole; 150 But haply, in some cottage far apart, May hear, well pleas'd, the language of the soul, And in his Book of Life the inmates poor enroll. Then homeward all take off their sev'ral way ; The youngling cottagers retire to rest ; 155 The parent-pair their secret homage pay, And proffer up to Heav'n the warm request, That He, who stills the raven's clam'rous nest, And decks the lily fair in flow'ry pride, Would, in the way His wisdom sees the best, 1 60 For them and for their little ones provide ; But chiefly in their hearts with grace divine preside. From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur springs, That makes her lov'd at home, rever'd abroad : Princes and lords are but the breath of kings, 165 ' An honest man's the noblest work of God : ' And certes, in fair virtue's heavenly road, The cottage leaves the palace far behind ; What is a lordling's pomp? a cumbrous load, Disguising oft the wretch of human kind, 170 Studied in arts of hell, in wickedness refin'd ! O Scotia ! my dear, my native soil ! For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent ! Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil Be blest with health and peace and sweet content ! 1/5 And, Oh, may Heaven their simple lives prevent From luxury's contagion weak and vile; Then, howe'er crowns and coronets be rent, A virtuous populace may rise the while, And stand a wall of fire around their much-lov'd Isle. i8o O Thou ! who pour'd the patriotic tide That stream'd thro' % Wallace's undaunted heart ; Who dar'd to nobly stem tyrannic pride, Or nobly die, the second glorious part, BURNS. (The patriot's God peculiarly thou art, 185 His friend, inspirer, guardian, and reward !) O never, never, Scotia's realm desert, But still the patriot and the patriot-bard In bright succession raise, her ornament and guard ! THE TWA DOGS. 'TWAS in that place o' Scotland's isle, That bears the name o 9 Auld King Coil, Upon a bonie day in June, When wearing thro' the afternoon, Twa dogs, that were na thrang at hame, v'^l - 5 Forgather'd ance upon a time. The first I'll name, they ca'd him Ccesar, Was keepit for his Honour's pleasure : His hair, his size, his mouth, his lugs, Shew'd he was nane o' Scotland's dogs ; 10 But whalpit some place far abroad, Whare sailors gang to fish for Cod. His locked, letter'd, braw brass collar, W**f Shew'd him the gentleman and scholar ; But tho' he was o' high degree, 15 The fient a pride na pride had he ; But wad hae spent an hour caressin Ev'n wi' a tinkler-gypsey's messin. ^ /Vvic**^-*,*, , At kirk or market, mill or smiddie, Nae tawted tyke, tho' e'er sae duddie, **> / oU^U 2O But he wad stan't, as glad to see him, An' stroan't on stanes and hillocks wi' him. The tither was a ploughman's collie, A rhyming, ranting, raving billie, Wha for his friend an' comrade had him 25 And in his freaks had Luath ca'd him, After some dog in Highland sang, Was made lang syne, Lord knows how lang, He was a gash an' faithfu' tyke, '*L *-~- Vt^^^t He rises when he likes himsel ; His flunkies answer at the bell ; He ca's his coach ; he ca's his horse ; 55 He draws a bonie, silken purse As lang's my tail, whare thro' the steeks jtiMijux The yellow letter'd Geordie keeks. Frae morn to e'en, its nought but toiling At baking, roasting, frying, boiling ; 60 An' tho' the gentry first are stechin, o/v^w-wi. Yet ev'n the ha' folk fill their pechan ^2 Wi' sauce ragouts and siclike trashtrie, That's little short o' downright wastrie. Our Whipper-in, wee blastit wonner, 65 Poor worthless elf, it eats a dinner, Better than ony tenant man His honour has in a' the Ian: An' what poor cot-folk pit their painch in, I own it's past my comprehension. 7 BURNS. II9 LUATH. Trowth, Caesar, whyles they're fash't eneugh : A cotter howkin in a sheugh, cUtJfc Wi' dirty stanes biggin a dyke, Baring a quarry, and siclike, Himsel, a wife, he thus sustains, 75 A smytrie o' wee duddie weans, VMWW^V An' nought but his han' darg, to keep Them right and tight in thack an' rape.^ An' when they meet wi' sair disasters, Like loss o' health, or want o' masters, 80 Ye maist wad think, a wee touch langer, An' they maun starve o' cauld and hunger ; But, how it comes, I never kent yet, They're maistly wonderfu' contented ; An' buirdly chiels an' clever hizzies .wyy-uc^ 85 Are bred in sic a way as this is. CAESAR. But then to see how ye're negleckit, How huff'd, an' cuff'd, an' disrespeckit ! Lord, man, our gentry care as little For delvers, ditchers, an' sic cattle, 90 They gang as saucy by poor folk, As I wad by a stinking brock, 'ber' ^ ^ I've notic'd, on our Laird's court-day, An' mony a time my heart's been wae, Poor tenant bodies, scant o' cash, 95 How they maun thole a factor's snash : He'll stamp an' threaten, curse an' swear, He'll apprehend them, poind their gear ; <^a^ While they maun stan' wi' aspect humble, An' hear it a', an' fear and tremble ! I see how folk live that hae riches : But surely poor folk maun be wretches. LUATH. They're nae sae wretched's ane wad think, Tho' constantly on poortith's brink : 7: ; - - ; -.L: : ; : _ ; . : v '..: i - _ : -. - '-- ~-v : - dbflMi f i IBB r AM. vhfe CtfiMnA ^ML -^ HH * 1T "* n" icgts n swon CMHHML :.: -5 /////W.V. 121 Wha, ablins, thrang a parliamentin, p\>r Britain's guid his saul indentin H J? C/ESAR. Haith, lad, ye little ken about i . ; For Britain's guid ! guid faith ! I doubt it. 150 Say rather, gaun as Premiers lead him, An' saying aye or no 1 * they bid him : At operas an' plays parading, Mortgaging, gambling, masquerading : Or maybe, in a frolic daft, 155 To Hague or Calais taks a waft, To make a tour an' tak a whirl, To learn bon ton an' see the worl'. There, at Vienna or Versailles, He rives his father's auld eiUails ; 160 Or by Madrid he taks the rout, To thrum guitars, an' f'echt wi' nowt; C wco Or down Italian vista startles, Love-making among groves o' myrtles: Then bouses drumly German water, 165 To mak himsel look fair and fatter. For Britain's guid ! for her destruction ! Wi' dissipation, feud, an' faction ! LUATH. Hech, man ! dear sirs ! is that the gate They waste sae mony a braw estate ! ^fuvv J 7 Are we sae foughten an' harass'd For gear to gang that gate at last? O would they stay aback frae courts, An' please themsels wi' countra sports, It wad for ev'ry ane be better, 175 The Laird, the Tenant, an' the Cotter ! For thae frank, rantin, ramblin billies, Fient haet o' them's ill-hearted fellows : d^JL , 1 .Except for breaking o' their timmer, JL^^c^ Or speaking lightly o' their limmer, w v c^'t/u>