UC-NRLF B 3 57b 4bfi " ■ © ■Bl ■^***»««*» ,«x S5b Wt^^mlFt •*■ *i»iii Sure thus at least we yet may meet again, Tho' wilds divide us, mountains, or the main : 470 Sure thus at least no harshness can deny The sad enjoyment of a parting sigh. Fate with strong hand our destiny controls, Yet not e'en Fate can separate our souls. No : tho' strange woes, and wept by none before, 475 Should bid that heart too tender throb no more ; Tho' dark Misfortune prove at last a friend, And to its God thy wounded spirit send ; There is a Power that e'en from death shall save, And rend the marble curtains of the grave ! 480 Where meadow flowers our wonted pathway bound, Or oaks and briars o'er-canopy the ground ; Where, o'er the brooklet's rippling wave below, The hawthorn flings her vegetable snow ; Where, in our fav'rite grove, to ev'ning dim, 485 The wild-bird wakes his solitary hymn, Or thro' the slumb'ring leaves the moonbeam glides, To dip its lustre in the distant tides ; 26 THE PLEASURES OF FANCY. Still the blue eye, so pensive, and so meek, Still the soft freshness of the verinil cheek, 490 Still all thy harmony of form is nigh, And bids a heavy heart forget to sigh ! Yet the soft pressure of thine arm conveys The dear sensations of our happiest days ; Yet, yet those accents tremble in mine ear, 495 Attund to heav'nly themes, and heav'n to hear ! When Duty calls to hush the poor man's cry, And teach to live, to suffer, or to die, Still at my side in wonted form I find An Angel dealing mercy to mankind ! 500 When, in yon reverend pile's time-hallow'd shade, My people's offerings and my own are paid, Still, as I turn, the beauteous saint is near, Who held with me the rustic sabbath dear; Who lov'd Religion in her meek attire, 505 Her simple audience, and her infant quire ; False feeling sought not from parade and art, But bow'd the soul, and worshipp'd with the heart. THE PLEASURES OF FANCY. 27 When from a troublous world Devotion flies, And spreads her hands in secret to the skies, 510 To teach a faith more stedfast thou art there, An humbler accent, or a purer pray'r. Thus thou art with me still, tho' far away, Nor shalt forsake me, wander as I may. E'en when my day of mourning sets in night, 515 Thy form, the last, shall vanish from my sight ; Thine eye, the last, the tears I feel shall shed, Thine arm, the last, support my dying head ; And from its mansion as my spirit flies, Thy pray'r, the last, shall cheer it thro' the skies. 520 Yet, Oh ! while thus, in scenes of painted air, I lose myself, and wander from despair ; While thus my heart with dreams of Fancy warms, E'en then, perhaps, another in thy arms, — But on that ghastly thought I may not dwell : 525 'Ere Reason lose her hold, farewel ! farewel ! There is, scarce listen'd by the air, a sigh, Beyond her wail who sees a husband die : 28 THE PLEASURES OF FANCV. He knows there is, who, 'mid one joyless view, Nought to admire, to wish for, or pursue, 530 Toils on from youth to age, with listless tread, Tho' present, absent; and tho' living, dead ! There is a smile more bitter than the tear Pour'd by the Orphan o'er a Parent's bier : He knows there is, who feels that fate has shed 535 The very dregs of vengeance on his head ; Who sees the life of life for ever o'er, And smiles at Misery, for she can no more. — But cease thy fond complaint, thy fruitless moan, And in the woes of others lose thine own. 540 Thick o'er the path tho' yellow leaves are spread, And every flower is shelter'd in its bed ; While thro' yon elms the blast of Autumn sighs, Hollow and cold, o'er nature as she dies, At eve, in musing lost, who wanders there, 545 Nor heeds the storm that whistles in her hair I Ah ! far away her warrior son lies slain, Bleach'd by the winds, and beaten by the rain ; THE PLEASURES OF FANCY. 2J) And there she strays, for there unckeck'd may flow The holy fountains of a Mother's woe. 550 Her heart would break, but Fancy oft, as now, Dries that pale cheek, and smooths that troubled brow. O speak not, stir not, lest a sound dismiss The mourner's dream of visionary bliss. Yet once again she fondly stoops to trace 555 A husband's features in his orphan's face ; Or smiles, while, shouting, from her side he flies As the first primrose meets his laughing eyes ; Or climbs her knees to kiss away her care, Con the light task, or lisp the simple pray'r. 560 Yet once again, supported by her boy, She feels a mother's pride, a mother's joy! She marks that manly form, that eagle eye, That faithful breast which gave her sigh for sigh ; And still those accents murmur in her ear, 5G5 For ever tender, and for ever dear. — But ah ! 'tis o'er ! convuls'd with woe she stands, Beats her sad breast, and wrings her aged hands ! 30 THE PLEASURES OF FANCY. Reason awakes, and stabs in every pore : — ** Such was thy son, but he is thine no more." 570 God help thee, thou art lonely : none remain To share thy pleasure, or regard thy pain ! Now thou must mark, alone, the spring-flow'r wave, Alone, must wander to a husband's grave ; Rent every tie that wakes a wish to be, 575 Thou to the world art nought, the world to thee. E'en at that hour when man's frail fabric falls, And God, who lent, the trembling breath recals, No kindred form shall kneel beside thy bed, Shall sooth thee dying, or deplore thee dead ! 580 Yet she, a friend where none are friends beside, The truth shall soften tho' she cannot hide. O'er that pale corse the wolf of midnight howls, The lightning flashes, and the torrent rolls ; Yet Fancy feigns that holy rites were paid, 585 And dirges chanted where thy son is laid ; And oft hath led thee to his seeming tomb, Where Honour weeps, and violets love to bloom. THE PLEASURES OF FANCY. ol E'en those who sleep beneath yon aged tree, Tho' they are dead to all, still live to thee : 590 Oft, in each wonted scene, some form shall start Of those still clinging" to thy widow'd heart, And the dark thought shall many an hour efface, That thou alone remainest of thy race ! Aye, and not seldom shall thy spirit soar 595 Where, rob'd in light, they wonder and adore : Drink at celestial Joy's eternal spring-, Or to the harp in more than triumph sing. Thus Fancy follows thro' this vale of tears, In sorrow sooths us, in misfortune cheers : 600 And as, 'mid gath'ring storms, the heav'nly bow, She still shines brightly in the darkest woe. Lo ! yon fair Maid ! entranc'd in bliss she seems, And holding converse with delightful dreams ; Yet many a bitter blast, and pelting storm, 605 Have spent their fury on that fragile form ! The sight of him, in ghastly garments drest, The last of all her kindred, and the best; Q-2 THE PLEASURES OF FANCY. The fall from wealth to little and to less, The friend too tender to behold distress ; 610 The jealous taunt, the more unfeeling leer, The pity still concluding' with a sneer ; The boon scarce aught but vinegar and gall ; — Such were her trials, and she felt them all. Still there was one, now absent on the main, 615 Whose image oft would triumph o'er her pain ! Her gen'rous lover, who, she knew right well, Would love the more, the more her fortunes fell. The storm arose; that lover found a grave ; Some rock his pillow, and his shroud a wave ! 620 Then shriek'd her soul, to all but torture dead ; Till woe, in heav'n's good time, with reason fled : Fancy's fair dreams the mental void supplied, And from that moment she has seldom sigh'd. Still crown'd with flow'rs, or holly green, she roves, 625 Her lover leading thro' the meads and groves ; And as the passenger in pity sighs, The melting accents of her song arise : THE PLEASURES OF FANCY* 33 THE MANIACS SONG In yon grove our bow'r is green, Where but gentle guests are found ; 630 Ring-doves haunt the quiet scene, And the squirrel plays around : Haste thee, stranger, come and see ; Welcome to my love and me. Thither fairy voices call 035 Ev'ry little bird that sings ; There from fairy bosoms fall All the flow'rs that Summer brings : Haste thee, stranger, come and see ; Welcome to my love and me. 640 n 34 THE PLEASURES OF FANCY., Fear not there the stormy blast, Nor the breath of winter rude, Nor the sense of sorrows past, Nor e'en man's ingratitude : Haste thee, stranger, come and see ; 645 Welcome to my love and me. THE END OF THE FIRST PAUT. PART II. d2 ANALYSIS OF THE SECOND PART. The influence of Fancy upon our character — Without her there can be no high degree of virtue in the soul — The manner in which she excites us to compassion even for our enemies; to benefi- cence; to mercy; to virtuous resolution ; to patriotism ; and to fortitude — But though she thus procures the highest pleasures of which our nature is capable for those who use her gifts, her ven- geance is terrible against those who abuse them — The Poem con- cludes with a tale illustrative of this. THE PLEASURES OF FANCY. +++++.*■*++•**■*•*■**+ PART II. Where yields the Sun to Frost's eternal reign, But barren shrubs and mosses clothe the plain ; While, where his smile benignant sways the year, Flow'rs of all hues, and golden fruits appear : Thus in those breasts alone which Fancy warms, 5 The Virtues flourish in their strength and charms. A great one falls ! — While others, as they pass, Gaze unconcern'd, or coldly cry, Alas ! Why dost thou grieve so deeply and so long, Tho' he hath scorn'd thee, or hath done thee wrong ? 10 'Tis that to thee, in melancholy show^ Is pictur'd still that family of woe ! 38 THE PLEASURES OF FANCY. The mingled burst of anguish, pride, and shame ; The heavy eye, pale cheek, and wasting frame ; The bitter pang, that knows not to desist, 15 As wonted comforts day by day are miss'd ; Low, tearful talk of splendour past away, Prospects that chill, or friendships that decay ; The mutual, vain attempt, for others' peace, To bid each trace of pain and sorrow cease ; 20 The tender duty, that would fain beguile A parent's grief, but weeps herself the while j These haunt thee still, and wake thy pensive mind To many a thought compassionate and kind. As at their sports yon village children glow, 25 The female vagrant tells her tale of woe. With what mute awe, what pitying looks they hear ! How heaves the bosom, and how starts the tear ! How bravely each despises Pleasure's call, And to the mourner gives his little all ; 30 These Fancy shews. each subject of the tale : The lonely cottage, tott'ring in the gale ; THE PLEASURES OP FANCY. 39 The naked hearth, the shatter'd walls and bare, Concealing nought but anguish and despair ; The door whence all but Want and Woe withdraw ; 35 Expos'd to ev'ry storm, the bed of straw, Where naked infants wildly scream for bread, And creep for warmth around their father dead ! Yet one turns from her, reckless of her lot : — He hears her mis'ries, but he sees them not. 40 From his dull soul the quick'ning Pow'r retires, Nor ever thrills him with her sacred fires. Deeply displeas'd, and justly, with the maid, More of thy hatred than of death afraid, Why dost thou yield so soon thy firm resolve, 45 And in thy bosom plans of peace revolve ? Why by degrees do angry clouds depart, And Love resume his empire in thy heart? 'Tis that each step is haunted by a form, Lovely, but sad, and sinking in the storm ! 50 Gone are the dimples of that cheek so fair, And dead the rose that lov'd to blossom there ! 40 THE PLEASURES OF FANCY. Drown'd in a bitter flood of anguish lies Each little love that sported in those eyes ! Within that breast, of peace no more the cell, 55 But wasting sighs and bleeding sorrows dwell ! Mark its wild throbbing, its convulsive start, As Grief renews the canker in her heart. Each painted dream of Love and Fancy fled, The charms of Art, the bloom of Nature dead ; 00 Too weak, alas ! and tremulous to stand, She still reclines her head upon her hand ; Wishes each hour were in a moment past, That thus the sooner she might hail the last ; Watches with gloomy smile her form decay, 65 And darkly joys in weeping life away ! Canst thou endure it? With the pow'r to save, Canst thou behold her hast'ning to the grave I To one who loves, adores thee, canst thou cry, " Live but to suffer, and unpitied die?" 70 No ; with her tears thou soon shalt mingle thine, And all thv soul to tenderness resign. THE PLEASURES OF FANCY. 41 Th' ingenuous youth to manhood verging fast, His parents trust him to the world at last. Scarce uncontroul'd, a moment can he stray, 75 Ere Vice and Ruin mark him as their prey ! Round him the sirens of destruction stand, And as, in gay disguise, they grasp his hand, u At length, thrice happy man !" they warble still, " Thou'rt free to sip at Joy's enchanted rill ! 80 " Mark from each little wave what raptures glance ! " What countless pleasures on the margin dance ! " Or gather flow'rs, in rainbow colours bright, " And breathing round ineffable delight! " Yet know, those flow'rs must fade ! that rill be dry ! 85 " Those forms depart ! — then seize them ere they fly. " Be wise in time : Life scatters from his wing " No second youth ; the year, no second spring." He hears ; his bosom throbs ; his pulse beats high ; And he has ris'n to follow them and die ! 90 What friend arrests him ? bids those blushes rise, Those silver sorrows tremble in his eyes ? ■12 THE PLEASURES OP FANCY. That friend is Fancy ! — By her art she shows Those dear ones lately quitted in repose. Alas ! how chang'd ! Their little joys are o'er : 95 The book, the ride, the garden, glad no more. Where reign'd Content, Mirth laugh'd, and Pleasure play'd, The voice of wailing issues from the shade. Lo ! there that Father, still so good and kind, With anguish wasted, and with weeping blind, 100 Spreads dust and ashes on his rev'rend head, And envies them that slumber with the dead ! Lo ! there that Mother, who, with tender fears, Watch'd o'er the weakness of his infant years ; Nurs'd him in pain, in all his sorrows wept, 105 Shar'd his delights, and bless'd him as he slept ! Her bread still bitter, and her drink but tears, No joy affects her, and no comfort cheers ; And from that ashy cheek, that hollow eye, She has not long to suffer and to sigh. 110 To the youth's heart what mingled passions rush, And from his eyes bid bitter torrents gush ! THE PLEASURES OF FANCY. 43 He cannot bear it:—" This my work accurst! " No ; earth shall open and ingulph me first." Mark him whom princes envy ! — He has won 115 The palm of Fashion, and is half undone. To friendship, love, and reason, deaf so long, Why on a sudden breaks he from the throng I Whence does he prize his dear-bought fame no more, And brave the scorn so terrible before ? 120 Wak'd by a common chance, know, Fancy's train Found and disturb'd him in his gaudy reign ; Nor could gay crowds, nor slumbers of the night, The friendly phantoms banish from his sight. Here stretch'd on straw, within a murky cell, 125 A child of mis'ry bids the world farewel. Lo ! as delirious and convuls'd he lies, None heed his suff'rings, none shall close his eyes ! While parts the spirit with appalling groan, Approach that livid visage — 'tis thine own ! 130 Raw from the scourge, in rags, with fetters bound, There his heart's life raves bleeding on the ground ! 44 THE PLEASURES OF FANCY. Here ends his son, with curses on his name, A life of rapine by a death of shame ! While, honour blasted, peace and virtue dead, 135 There roam his daughters thro' the streets for bread ! Then lo ! a sylvan scene ! a river flows 'Mid waving trees, and bow'rs of green repose! Gay laugh the flow'rs, the feather'd warbler sings, Sips the pure stream, or laves his painted wings ! 140 There he appears, secure from care and noise, Thecircle tracing of do mestic joys. Health, peace restor'd, with renovated charms, The dear one smiles, and strains him in her arms ; Points to their offspring, shouting, wild with bliss : — 145 " When did the world afford an hour like this V Now 'mid their children's children they are found, Their latter days with peace and honour crown'd ! Their laurel'd son, their happy daughters vie, That nought may bid them wish in vain, or sigh ; 150 Their ev'ry step respect and love attend, While Faith and Hope beam brightly on their end. THE PLEASURES OF FANCY. 45 Then speaks in awful accent one unseen, u Lo ! wretch, what shall be, and what might have been !" " What might have been !" he firmly cries at length, 155 " It shall be yet, so heav'n deny not strength." Shelt'ring on Sempach's height their scanty band, In deep dismay Helvetia's children stand ! Why should their pointed column still essay To pierce and scatter Austria's deep array '( 160 Oft, and again, the fierce assault renew'd With their best blood the champaign has imbrued ; While, his front bristled with gigantic spears, The foe their battle-axe nor feels nor fears. Mute and amaz'd they stand ! in gathering clouds 165 His form the spirit of the mountain shrouds ! While Freedom smites her bosom in despair, Half sinks to earth, and breathes a troubled pray'r ! But lo ! while others droop in speechless woe, Winckelried's eyes with martial fury glow ! 170 Him Fancy fires ! His native land she shows Mourning in chains, and ruin'd by her foes : 40 THE PLEASURES OF FANCY* Her laws subverted, and her glory tied, Her falchion broken, and her spirit dead ! Lo! shadow'd forth, rich harvests trampled down, 175 The burning hamlet, and the pillag'd town; The peasant slaughter'd in his fields ; the wife, The virgin, reft of chastity, of life ; The child abandon'd, to the wolf a prey, The corse left festering in the public way ! 180 " This must 1 see? Forbid it, heav'n !" he cries : " First tears of blood shall trickle from these eyes." Then shifts the scene ! — •' Why mourn yon warlike band ? " Whom call they Father of his native land ? " Whose the blest tomb, where women, children, all, 185 " In grateful sorrow, yet in triumph fall? " Where Honour weeps, yet proudly cries, Well done ! f And Fame weaves glory for a fav'rite son? " Grav'd on the stone, what envied name appears ? " I cannot read it for a nation's tears. 190 " Ha ! Heav'ns, Winckelried ! — Comrades, follow me; " To the foe's bosom 1 your passage free." THE PLEASURES OF FANCY. 47 Once more the warrior's patriot ardour warms ! He flies ! they follow !— with extended arms, He binds of hostile spears a sheaf of death, 195 And firmly grasps it to his latest breath ; While thro' the breach the Switzers pour along-, And fiercely wrest the battle from the strong ! Ages long past, with murder red, recal, And mark the noble host of martyrs fall. 200 Here on hot bars the tender virgin lies ! There on the cross her aged parent dies ! Here some drink molten metals, and expire! There others perish by the rack or fire ! Yet where the trembling frame, the madd'ning brain, 205 The shriek of terror, and the groan of pain ? An awful calm pervades the horrid scene, And each is firm, collected, arid serene ! Nay, as tho' death were gain, and anguish joy, They hail, they bless, the tortures that destroy ! 210 Sure they are more than human, nor can feel The flame, the sword, the pincers, and the wheel ! 48 THE PLEASURES OF FANCY. Not so : they feel their sufferings, but they see What more than calms them, tho' conceal'd from thee ! Here cars of fire and fiery coursers stand, 215 Which soon shall bear them to a better land ; Where, far from care and pain, from death and woe, Rivers of bliss thro' fields of glory flow. There angel forms prepare, with harpings high, To greet their souls, and guide them thro' the sky ; 220 While op'ning clouds a moment to their sight Disclose heav'n's own, intolerable light ! There reigns the Lamb, whose painful path they trod, And voices issue from the throne of God : M Well done, ye faithful servants ! now ascend, 225 " And date your life's beginning from its end." Hope they ? Believe they? No : they hear! they see ! And, till their souls unheeded tortures free, Still with triumphant smile, " Where, where, " they cry, " O Death, thy sting? O Grave, thy victory?" 230 But are there none who Fancy's boon abuse, For ever gazing on unhallow'd views. THE PLEASURES OP FANCY. 49 Till, fir'd, at length, and spurning at controul, The passions fetter and pollute the soul I Yes ; but beware ! the injur'd Pow'r, ere long, 235 With dreadful vengeance shall requite the wrong : Soon from their bosoms shall she banish peace, And bid their guilty joys in horror cease. Lo ! where the victims of her anger stand, Pale and dismay'd at her avenging band ! 240 Here Justice meets them with appalling frown ! There the wan ghosts of Virtue, Bliss, Renown ! Here Hatred haunts them with malicious scowl ! There, in vile garments, Want and Mis'ry howl ! The scourge of Infamy, the grin of Scorn, 245 The loathsome shapes to pain of riot born, A death of horror, an untimely tomb Alarm them now, array'd in ghastly gloom ! By Terror goaded, how they start aghast At moving shadows, or the moaning blast ! 250 But, Oh ! what agonies convulse their soul, How their frame trembles, how their eyeballs roll, E 50 THE PLEASURES OF FANCY. When, in the hour of sickness, or of night, The world unknown half opens to their sight! Marking the yawning caverns of despair, 255 The demon's triumph, and the sulphur's glare ; The worm that never dies, the burning wave That laves the guilty — shall for ever lave ; The curse, the groan, the agonizing yell, — They feel its torments ere they sink to hell. 260 A virtuous pair I knew, whose only child, From early youth, was wayward still and wild ; They were, alas ! too mild to be severe, Nor could reprove but by a sigh or tear ; Else had correction's harsh but wholesome sway 265 Inclin'd her, haply, to the better way. At length she left them :— an unhallow'd flame Consum'd at once her virtue and her fame. But soon, by conscience wak'd, the shadowy pow'r Found and alarm'd her in her happiest hour ! 270 Oft was she startled by a still, small voice, u Canst thou, O wanton ! darest thou rejoice, THE PLEASURES OF FANCY. 51 <% When, thro' thy guilt, those hearts so good and kind, " From day to day, but heavier mis'ry find?" Now as appear'd the cot, the flow'ry glade, 275 The meads and woodlands where her childhood stray'd, Still mournful voices seem'd to murmur near, *' There thou wast spotless, and what art thou here?" Those too she views, who hop'd their latter day, Cheer'd by her love, would gently glide away. 280 Now on the earth in deep despair they lie ; Or for their wand'rer raise their hands on high ; Or on each other gaze, till bitter woe Bids the soul groan, and tears in torrents flow ! Now broken-hearted, helpless, and alone, 285 Chill'd by the touch of Death they faintly moan ! Now for that home by careless hands are drest, Where guilt afflicts not, and the weary rest ! As months roll on, and pleasure palls, repose, Nor day nor night, her tortur'd bosom knows :| 290 At ev'ry step some ghastly shape she sees, Or hollow voices menace in the breeze J e2 52 THE PLEASURES OF FANCY* At length, when Nature could no more sustain, And Reason threaten'd to desert her brain, If heav'n till now," she cried, " have spar'd them, fly, " Fly, and once more behold them ere they die." 296 She rose : she came. — 'Twas Summer eve, when now, Woe- worn and weary, from the green-hill's brow, Her native village at her feet she sees, The purple sunbeam slumb'ring on its trees ! 300 Sweet is the hawthorn hedge that skirts the way; Blithe the Swain's whistle, and the Throstle's lay. The sheep-bell tinkles ; children on the green Shout, wrestle, race, while age enjoys the scene. Beyond, serene and clear, the river flows, 305 And each reflected object looks repose. The mourner pauses — heaves a heavy sigh — " All then is happy and at peace, while I — " She can no more ; her soul in secret bleeds ; And to her home, half fainting, she proceeds. 310 Alas ! the hedge unprun'd, the shatter'd pane, The ruin'd garden, speak thy journey vain ! THE PLEASURES OF FANCY. 53 " Tis well!" — She press'd her hand upon her heart, As though to shield it from a mortal dart ; And to the scene, with falt'ring footsteps, fled, 315 Where rise the still memorials of the dead. There soon, too soon, she finds, with panting breast, The grassy hillock where her parents rest. Half hid by rampant weeds the stone appears, Which bears, grav'd rudely with their name and years, 320 €t The gentle pair that sleep beneath " Demand no pitying tear: " First ceas'd a child's unrev'rend hand " To wound their bosoms here." She reads : — without a breeze the yew tree waves, 325 And deeper shades invest the place of graves ; While feeble moans arise from ev'ry tomb, And shrouded spectres glide athwart the gloom ! And hark ! groan'd slowly thro' the heaving ground, As from the lungs of Death, a hollow sound ! 330 54 THE PLEASURES OF FANCY. " Thy parents murder'd, hast thou, wretch ! no fear " To wake their ashes I Wherefore art thou here V y She hears — she sinks — with one convulsive groan, The spirit passes to the world unknown. Judge not : — perhaps such moment equall'd years 335 Of that repentance, which finds ease in tears. THE END OF THE SECOND PART. NOTES. NOTES ON THE FIRST PART, Note I. Ver. i). How joys the wretch, as rash upon his sight The fiery banners of the northern night ! Describing the " Northern Lights" in Siberia, Gmelin says, " they begin with single bright pillars, rising in the north, and almost at the same time in the north-east, which, gradually increasing, comprehend a large space of the heavens, rush about from place to place with incredible velocity, and finally almost cover the whole sky up to the zenith, and produce an appearance as if a vast tent were expanded in the heavens, glittering with gold, rubies, and sapphires. A more beautiful spectacle cannot be painted," 58 NOTES ON PART I. Note II. Ver. 15. Thus Fancy bids her gliWring visions glow, To cheer the pilgrim in a world of woe. Fancy is not to be confounded with Imagination. As Pro- fessor Stewart remarks, the latter implies the former, but the former does not imply the latter. By Fancy I would under- stand that faculty by which the mind is enabled to picture to itself any absent objects of sense whatever, and to combine them as it pleases ; by which, in early youth, we cause an unknown world to correspond with our desires ; by which, abstracting ourselves from all around us, we can, in an instant, visit, or engage in any scenes which we chuse to recollect, to antici- pate, or to create; by which, in fine, are produced those (pavrxa-icn, those visions, " per quas," as Quinctilian says, •* imagines rerum absentium ita representantur animo, ut eas cernere oculis ac praesentes habere videamur." That the pleasures arising from this faculty are very great will not be denied. Dr. Johnson solemnly warns us, that unless we are careful, " the luxury of Fancy" will leave us, in the end, no relish for any thing else, and detach us altogether from the business of life. Dugald Stewart cautions us in a similar manner. Sterne felicitates mankind upon the facility with which the mind turns from mournful realities to the fairy land of Fancy ; and declares, that without such a resource, his days had long before been shortened. Rousseau even affirms, " I receive more delight from my chimeras than 1 should experience were they realized." NOTES ON PART I. 5J> Note III. Ver. 19. Why deathless praise may hope and meiriry claim. While not a lyre is taught thy mightier name ? Warton's f Ode to Fancy" is aa illustrious offering to her, and it is almost the only such offering. Note IV. Ver. 34. Dost thou ne'er quit the present with a sigh, To muse a moment on the years gone by ? " Our youth," says Ossian, " is like the dream of the hunter on the hill of heath. He sleeps in the mild beams of the sun ; he awakes amidst a storm. The red lightning flies around I Trees shake their heads to the wind ! He looks back with joy on the day of the sun, and the pleasant dreams of his rest." Note V. Ver. 71. And aught then lov'd is welcome, as it wakes Ideal forms that rapture ne'er forsakes. " When the aged behold youth and beauty," says Adam Smith, " they forget for a time their infirmities, and abandon themselves to those agreeable ideas and emotions to which 60 NOTES ON PART I. they have long been strangers, but which, when the presence of so much happiness recals them to their breast, take their place there like old acquaintance, from whom they are sorry to have ever been parted, and whom they embrace more heartily upon account of this long separation/' Note VI. Ver. 100. Each object thrills, each gale breathes peace around, Each slight memorial stands on holy ground. It appears to me, that the attachment which we experience for any scene, or object, to which we have been long accus- tomed, proceeds principally from our having associated it with our waking dreams. In many instances this is, indeed, the only reason which can be assigned for it. Note VII. Ver. 131. Take, take your wisdom. It is of this false wisdom that Solomon speaks, where he remarks, M In much wisdom is much grief." Note VIII. Ver. 203. And oh! did man at first descry Life's melancholy gloom, He sure would heave no second sigh ; His cradle were his tomb. For regarding this present world a» a fl valley oi* weeping/' we have the highest possible authority. NOTES ON PART I. 01 Note IX. Ver. 275. Now, now she wafts thee to the wide domain. Where ancient Fiction holds her shadowy reign. " What a fund of amusement through life is prepared for one who reads in his childhood the fables of ancient Greece ! They dwell habitually on the memory, and are ready, at all times, to fill up the intervals of business, or of serious reflec- tion ; and in his hours of rural retirement and leisure, they warm his mind with the fire of ancient genius, and animate every scene he enters with the offspring of classical fancy." — Stewart's Philosophy of the Human Mind. Note X. Ver. 415. And more than hope dares dream pourtrayd as true. " When we are removed to a distance from society and the pursuits of life, at length the most extravagant dreams of ima- gination acquire as powerful an influence in exciting all the passions of the mind as if they were realities." Ibid. Note XI. Ver. 234. Who ev'ry hour, where'er his footsteps roam, Brings him his wife, his children, and his home. " Oh !" says Zimmerman, " if the friends of my youth in Switzerland knew how frequently I pass with them those hours which are allotted to sleep ; if they were apprized that neither ii'l NOTES ON PART I. time nor absence can efface the remembrance of their former kindness from my mind ; and, that this pleasing recollection tends to cast the veil of oblivion over my woes ; they would rejoice to find, that I still live amongst them in imagination, though I may be dead to them in reality." Petrarch informs us, that, as he wandered amid the shades of Vaucluse, he beheld his Laura, " at all times, in all places, and under a thousand different forms." Note XII. Ver. 603. ho / yon fair maid ! entranced in bliss she seems, And holding converse with delightful dreams. It may be remarked, that all maniacs are not apparently happy. The cause appears to be, that, in some instances, reason fails partially. Wherever she surrenders the mind altogether to Fancy, the effect, I believe, will be as represented above. NOTES ON TITK SECOND PART. Note I. Ver. 5. Thus in those breasts alone which Fancy warms, The virtues flourish in their strength and charms. Should any reader be startled at this doctrine, I must refer him to that portion of Stewart's Elements in which he treats of " the influence of Imagination on human character and hap- piness," Note II. Ver. 157. Shelt'ring on Sempach's height their scanty band, In deep dismay Helvetia's children stand. At the battle of Sempach (fought July 8, 1386,) the Aus- trians exceeded the Swiss nearly in the proportion of four to one. " Les deux armees s'avancerent, Celle des Autrichiens etoit composee de l'elite de la noblesse, et des chevaliers les 64 NOTES ON PART It. plus valeureux d'Allemagne : leurs cuirasses etoient a l'epreuve, et leurs longues lances tenoient l'ennemi eloigne. Formant un long bataillon quarre, ils s'avancoient lentement, bien serres, ainsi qu'une citadelle de fer mouvante. Les Suisses Etoient mal armes, sans cuirasses, n'ayant qu'une courte hallebarde et une epee, avec une espece de petite fascine au bras pour parer les premiers coups. Ils se formerent, suivant leur contume, en bataillon triangulaire et pointu ; c'est dans cet ordre que les Suisses rirent leur attaque. Mais tous leurs efforts pour pene- trer dans le bataillon ennemi sont inutiles ; des lances de sept a huit pieds les enferrent, leurs courtes hallebardes ne peuvent arriver jusqu'aux Autrichiens : deja ils out livre plusieurs assauts malheureux a cette masse inebranlable j deja l'avoyer de Lucerne, et soixante chefs de file ont mordu la poussiere, sans qu'il ait peri un seul Autrichien : C'en etoit fait peut-etre de la Liberty Helvetique. Arnold de Winckelried, du canton d'Undervald, se tourne vers ses comj)atriotes : Je veux mourir pour vous, et pour la Patrie ; ai/ez soin de mafemme et de mes enfans ; ne moublicz pas, et suivez moi. A ces mots il se met a la pointe du triangle, marche ainsi a la tete des Confederes, jette ses amies, embrasse et serre autant de lances qu'il en peut empoigner, et se laisse clouer a la place ou il tombe, pour ouvrir a ses Compatriotes le sentier de la victoire. Leopold (Archiduc d'Autriche) perit, et GIG gentilshommes resterent autour de lui, otendus sur le champ de bataille : 350 de ces seigneurs portoient des casques couronnes ; honneur qui n'etoit permis alors qu'a ceux des premieres maisons de TEmpire. Aussi cette defaite affoiblit-elle pour toujours cette Noblesse, ennemie naturelle des Suisses." Melanges llelvetiques. MOTES ON PART 11, 65 Note III. Ver. 213. They feel their sufferings, but they see What more than calms them, tho 1 conceal' d from thee. '* We find," says Addison, in his Evidences of the Christian Religion, " we find the Church of Smyrna, in that admirable Letter which gives an account of the death of Polycarp, their beloved Bishop, mentioning the cruel torments of other early martyrs for Christianity, are of opinion, that our Saviour stood by them in a vision, and personally conversed with them, to give them strength and comfort during the bitterness of their long continued agonies ; and we have the story of a young man, who, having suffered many tortures, escaped with life, and told his fellow-Christians, that the pain of them had been rendered tolerable by an angel that stood by him, and wiped off the tears and sweat which ran down his face whilst he lay under his suf- ferings." THE f GRAVE OF *******##+. O THOU, by whom my **^**** : * : * was i a id In hallow'd earth, indulge my sad desire : The village church where yonder yew trees shade, Point out his narrow mansion, and retire. And is this all allow' d thee ? Could thy race, Thy learning, genius, fame, and prospects high, Gain thee but this poor, unmark'd resting place? But Hate oft gives, intending to deny. The flatt'ring epitaphs of those that die, We read but with suspicion or disgust : The tombs that raise their marble heads on high, But wake reflections on the pride of dust. f The gentleman alluded to in this Elegy died of contrition for having engaged in a licentious amour. F2 GO THE GRAVE OF *********. 'Tis where the hamlet's simple children lie, Each in his grassy grave with osiers bound, 'Tis there that Feeling heaves her softest sigh, And the heart whispers, This is holy ground. 'Tis there the vanities that life beguile, Our idle fancies, worldly wishes cease ; 'TLs thence the soul from earth retires awhile, And finds an earnest of eternal peace. And oh ! how vain the sculptor's art had been, Those forms unseen a moment to arrest, Whose holy footsteps mark the hillock green, Where thou and all thy sorrows are at rest. At rest — the world may now thy guilt enflame, For in thine eye no longer lives a tear : Thy shame the world may now with joy proclaim. For not an insult can disturb thee here. >1» iJs \b vl/ *X^ \U \ L> ^* ^X* THE GRAVE OF *********, How deep thy slumber ! though storms roar around, And bid the death-worm in thy bosom quake ; Tho' fires volcanic, bursting thro' the ground, Rend rocks and mountains, thou shalt not awake! Would that thou couldst a moment ! — if aright I scann'd the gentler feelings of thy breast, Thou, not unconscious of serene delight, Wouldst view the scene of thine eternal rest. Veiling Corruption's work, no gorgeous pile Arises near to mock thy lowly grave ; The moon looks on it with her tenderest smile, And pansies faintly whisper as they wave. Green is the sod around, and ev'ry blade Gemm'd with a little tear, as weeping thee : And thither one with lonely steps hath stray'd, Whose friendship triumphs e'en o'er Death's decree. 70 THE GRAVE OF *********. For thee his garments are not madly torn, For thee he wears no sable garb of woe ; Yet is there One in secret sees him mourn, And in his bosom bear what passeth show. Great was thy guilt ! yet did the world but know What deep repentance follow' d hard upon, It sure no more would smile that thou art low, Nor speak so hardly of thee, now thou'rt gone. The wasted form, sunk cheek, funereal gloom, The heavy sigh, deep groan, and frenzy'd start, The bed of sickness, and untimely tomb, Are these the tokens of a harden'd heart ? Great was thy guilt ! yet did the world but know What strong and strange temptations wrought thy fall, I, not alone, might Pity's meed bestow : The grief of one, perhaps, were that of all. THE GRAVE OF * * * * * * * * *. 71 But man no more shall judge thee ! thou'rt with One, To whom each secret of the heart is known ; Who loves to raise Contrition's trembling son, And marks the broken-hearted as his own. 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