THE PLEASURES 
 OF MELANCHOLY 
 
 J WARTON 
 1747
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 FREDERIC THOMAS BLANCHARD 
 ENDOWMENT FUND
 
 THE 
 
 PLEASURES 
 
 O F 
 
 MELANCHOLY. 
 
 pe lugubres 
 
 Cant us y Melpomene ! 
 
 HOR, 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 Printed for R. DODSLEY at Tullys Head in Pall-malt-, and 
 fold by M. COOPER at the Globe in Pater-nofter-Row. 1747. 
 
 ( Price One Shilling. )
 
 ( 4 ) 
 
 And the big hail in mingling ftorm defcend 
 Upon his horrid brow. But when the fkies 
 Unclouded fhine, and thro' the blue ferene 
 Pale Cynthia rolls her filver-axled car, 
 Then ever looking on the fpangled vault 
 Raptured thou fit'ft, while murmurs indiftinl 
 Of diftant billows footh thy penfive ear 
 With hoarfe and hollow founds ; fecure, felf-bleft, 
 Oft too thou liften'ft to the wild uproar 
 Of fleets encountering, that in whifpers low 
 Afcends the rocky fummit, where thou dwell'ft 
 Remote from man, convening with the fpheres. 
 O lead me, black-brow'd BJ?, to folemn glooms 
 Cogenial with my foul, to chearlefs (hades, 
 To ruin'd feats, to twilight cells and bow'rs, 
 Where thoughtful Melancholy loves to mufe, 
 
 Her
 
 ( 5 ) 
 
 Her fav'rite midnight haunts. The laughing fcenes 
 Of purple Spring, where all the wanton train 
 Of Smiles and Graces feem to lead the dance 
 In fportive round, while from their hands they (how'r 
 Ambrofial blooms and flowVs, no longer charm j 
 Tempe, no more I court thy balmy breeze, 
 Adieu green vales ! embroidered meads adieu ! 
 
 Beneath yon' ruin'd Abbey's mofs-grown piles 
 Oft let me fit, at twilight hour of Eve, 
 Where thro' fome weftern window the pale moon 
 Pours her long-levelPd rule of ftreaming light ; 
 While fullen facred filence reigns around, 
 Save the lone Screech-owl's note, whofe bow'r is built 
 Amid the moukPring caverns dark and damp, 
 And the calm breeze, that ruftles in the leaves 
 
 Of
 
 Of flaunting Ivy, that with mantle green 
 
 Invefts fome facred tow'r. Or let me tread 
 
 It's neighboring walk of pines, where ftray'd of old 
 
 4 
 
 The cloyfter'd brothers : thro' the gloomy void 
 
 That far extends beneath their ample arch 
 
 As on I tread, religious horror wraps 
 
 My foul in dread repofe. But when the world 
 
 Is clad in Midnight's raven-colour'd robe, 
 
 In hollow charnel let me watch the flame 
 
 Of taper dim, while airy voices talk 
 
 Along the glimm'ring walls, or ghoftly fhape 
 
 At diftance feen, invites with beck'ning hand 
 
 My lonefome fteps, thro' the far-winding vaults. 
 
 Nor undelightful is the folemn noon 
 
 o 
 
 Of night, when haply wakeful from my couch 
 I ftart : lo, all is motionlefs around ! 
 
 Roars
 
 ( 7 ) 
 
 Roars not the ruftiing wind, the fons of men 
 And every beaft in mute oblivion lie j 
 All Nature's hufti'd in filence and in fleep. 
 O then how fearful is it to refle&, 
 That thro' the folitude of the ftill globe 
 No Being wakes but me ! 'till dealing fleep 
 My drooping temples baths in opiate dews. 
 Nor then let dreams, of wanton Folly born, 
 My fenfes lead thro' flowery paths of joy } 
 But let the facred Genius of the night 
 Such myftic vifions fend, as SPENSER faw, 
 When thro' bewild'ring Fancy's magic maze^ 
 To the bright regions of the fairy world 
 Soar'd his creative mind : or MILTON knew, 
 When in abftra&ed thought he firft conceived 
 
 All
 
 All heaven in tumult, and the Seraphim 
 Come tow'ring, arm'd in adamant and gold. 
 
 Let others love the Summer-ev'ning's (miles, 
 As lift'ning to fome diftant water-fall 
 They mark the blufhes of the ftreaky weft : 
 I choofe the pale December's foggy glooms ; 
 Then, when the fullen lhades of Ev'ning clofe, 
 Where thro 5 the room a blindly-glimm'ring gleam 
 The dying embers fcatter, far remote 
 From Mirth's mad ftiouts, that thro 5 the lighted roof 
 Refound with feftive echo, let me fit, 
 Bleft with the lowly cricket's drowfy dirge. 
 Then let my contemplative thought explore 
 This fleeting ftate of things, the vain delights, 
 The fruitlefs toils, that ftill elude our fearch, 
 
 As
 
 ( 9 ) 
 
 As thro' the wildernefs of life we rove. 
 This fober hour of filence will unmafk 
 Falfe Folly's fmiles, that like the dazling fpells 
 Of wily Comus, cheat th' unweeting eye 
 With blear illufion^ and perfuade to drink 
 The charmed cup, that Reafon's mintage fair 
 Unmoulds, and ftamps the monfter on the man. 
 Eager we tafte, but in the lufcious draught 
 Forget the pois'nous dregs that lurk beneath. 
 
 Few know that Elegance of foul refin'd, 
 Whofe foft fenfation feels a quicker joy 
 From Melancholy's fcenes, than the dull pride 
 Of taftelefs fplendor and magnificence 
 Can e'er afford. Thus Eloife, whofe mind 
 Had languifh'd to the pangs of melting love, 
 
 B More
 
 ( 10 ) - 
 
 More fecret tranfport found, as on fome tomb 
 Reclin'd (he watch'd the tapers of the dead, 
 Or thro' the pillar'd ifles, amid the fhrines 
 Of imag'd faints, and intermingled graves, 
 Which fcarce the ftory'd windows dim difclos'd, 
 Mufing ihe wander'd ; than Cofmelia finds, 
 
 As thro* the Mall in filken pomp array 'd, 
 
 
 She floats amid the gilded fons of drefs, 
 
 And fhines the faireft of th' aflembled Belles. 
 
 When azure noon-tide chears the daedal globe, 
 And the glad regent of the golden day 
 Rejoices in his bright meridian bowV, 
 How oft my wiflies afk the night's return, 
 That beft befriends the melancholy mind ! 
 Hail, facred Night ! to thee my fong I raife ! 
 
 Sifter
 
 ( II ) 
 
 Sifter of ebon-fcepter'd Hecat, hail ! 
 
 Whether in congregated clouds thou wrap'ft 
 
 Thy viewlefs chariot, or with iilver crown 
 
 Thy beaming head encircleft, ever hail ! 
 
 What tho' beneath thy gloom the Lapland witch 
 
 Oft celebrates her moon-eclipfing rites ; 
 
 Tho' Murther wan, beneath thy fhrouding (hade 
 
 Oft calls her filent vot'ries to devife 
 
 Of blood and Daughter, while by one blue lamp 
 
 In fecret conference fits the lift'ning band, 
 
 And ftart at each low wind, or wakeful found ; 
 
 What tho' thy ftay the Pilgrim curfes oft, 
 
 As all benighted in Arabian waftes 
 
 He hears the howling wiidernefs refound 
 
 With roaming monfters, while on his hoar head 
 
 o * 
 
 The black-defcending tempeft ceafelefs beats j 
 
 B z Yet
 
 ( II ) 
 
 Yet more delightful to my penfive mind 
 Is thy return, than bloomy Morn's approach, 
 When from the portals of the faffron Eaft 
 She flieds frefti rofes and ambrofial dews. 
 Yet not ungrateful is the Morn's approach, 
 When dropping wet (he comes, and clad in clouds, 
 While thro 5 the damp air fcowls the peevifti South, 
 And the dufk landfchape rifes dim to view. 
 TV affli&ed fongfters of the fadden'd groves 
 Hail not the fullen gloom, but filent droop j 
 The waving elms, that rang'd in thick array, 
 Enclofe with ftately row fome rural hall, 
 Are mute, nor echo with the clamors hoarfe 
 Of rooks rejoicing on their hoary boughs : 
 While to the fhed the dripping poultry croud, 
 A mournful train : fecure the village-hind 
 
 Hangs
 
 ( 13 ) 
 
 Hangs o'er the crackling blaze, nor tempts the ftorm ; 
 Rings not the high wood with enliv'ning (houts 
 Of early hunter : all is filence drear ; 
 And deepeft fadnefs wraps the face of things. 
 
 Thro' POPE'S fbft fong tho' all the Graces breath, 
 And happieft art adorn his Attic page ; 
 Yet does my mind with fweeter tranfport glow, 
 As at the foot of fome hoar oak reclin'd, 
 In magic SPENSER'S wildly-warbled fong 
 I fee deferted Una wander wide 
 Thro' wafteful folitudes, and lurid heaths, 
 Weary, forlorn, than when the f fated Fair, 
 Upon the boforn bright of filver Thames, 
 Launches in all the luftre of Brocade, 
 
 f Belinda. Vid. Raps of the Lock. 
 
 Amid
 
 ( 14 ) 
 
 Amid the fplendors of the laughing Sun. 
 The gay defcription palls upon the fenfe, 
 And coldly ftrikes the mind with feeble blifs. 
 
 O wrap me then in (hades of darkfom pine, 
 Bear me to caves by defolation brown, 
 To duflcy vales, and hermit-haunted rocks ! 
 And hark, methinks refounding from the gloom 
 The voice of Melancholy ftrikes mine ear ; 
 <c Come, leave the bufy trifles of vain life, 
 u And let thefe twilight manfions teach thy mind 
 " The Joys of Mufing, and of folemn Thought." 
 
 Ye youths of Albion's beauty-blooming ifle, 
 Whofe brows have worn the wreath of lucklefs love, 
 Is there a pleafure like the penfive mood, 
 
 Whofe
 
 Whofe magic wont to fboth your foften'd fouls ? 
 O tell how rapt'rous is the deep-felt blifs 
 To melt to Melody's afliiafive voice, 
 Carelefs to ftray the midnight mead along, 
 And pour your forrows to the pitying moon, 
 Oft interrupted by the Bird of Woe ! 
 To mufe by margin of romantic ftream, 
 To fly to folitudes, and there forget 
 The folemn dulnefs of the tedious world, 
 Till in abftra&ed dreams of fancy loft, 
 Eager you fnatch the vifionary fair, 
 And on the phantom feaft your cheated gaze ! 
 Sudden you ftart tli imagined joys recede, 
 The fame fad profpe& opens on your fenfe j 
 And nought is feen but deep-extended trees 
 In hollow rows, and your awaken'd ear 
 
 Again
 
 16 
 
 Again attends the neighboring fountain's found. 
 Thefe are delights that abfence drear has made 
 Familiar to my foul, er'e fince the form 
 Of young Sapphira, beauteous as the Spring, 
 When from her vi'leUwoven couch awak'd 
 By frolic Zephyr's hand, her tender cheek 
 Graceful (he lifts, and blufhing from her bow'r, 
 Ifliies to cloath in gladfome-glift'ring green 
 The genial globe, firft met my dazled fight. 
 Thefe are delights unknown to minds profane, 
 And which alone the penfive foul can tafte. 
 
 The taper'd choir, at midnight hour of Pray'r, 
 Oft let me tread, while to th* according voice 
 The many-founding organ peals on high, 
 In Jfull-voic'd chorus thro 5 th 9 embowed roof 5 
 
 Till
 
 ( 17 ) 
 
 'Till all my foul is bath'd in ecftafies, 
 And lap'd in Paradife. Or let me fit 
 Far in fome diftant ifle of the deep dome, 
 There lonefome liften to the folemn founds, 
 Which, as they lengthen thro' the Gothic vaults, 
 In hollow murmurs reach my ravifh'd ear. 
 
 Nor let me fail to cultivate my mind 
 With the foft thrillings of the tragic Mufe, 
 Divine Melpomene, fweet Pity's nurfe, 
 Queen of the (lately ftep, and flowing pall. 
 Now let Monimia mourn with ftreaming eyes 
 Her joys inceftuous, and polluted love : 
 Now let Califta dye the defperate fteel 
 Within her bofom, for loft innocence, 
 Unable to behold a father weep. 
 
 C Or
 
 ( -I* ) 
 
 Or Jaffeir kneel for one forgiving look j 
 Nor feldom let the Moor on Defdemone 
 Pour the mifguided threats of jealous rage. 
 By foft degrees the manly torrent fteals 
 From my fwoln eyes, and at a brother's woe 
 
 My big heart melts in fympathizing tears. 
 
 \ 
 
 What are the fplendors of the gaudy court, 
 It's tinfel trappings, and it's pageant pomps ? 
 To me far happier feems the baniih'd Lord 
 Amid Siberia's unrejoycing wilds 
 Who pines all lonefome, in the chambers hoar 
 Of fome high caftle fhut, whofe windows dim 
 In diftant ken difcover tracklefs plains, 
 Where Winter ever drives his icy car j 
 While ftill repeated objects of his view> 
 
 The
 
 ( '9 ) 
 
 The gloomy battlements, and ivied tow'rs 
 That crown the folitary dome, arife ; 
 While from the topmoft turret the flow clock 
 Far heard along th' inhofpitable waftes 
 With fad-returning chime, awakes new grief. 
 Than is the Satrap whom he left behind 
 In Mofcow's regal palaces, to drown 
 In eafe and luxury the laughing hours. 
 
 Illuftrious obje&s ftrike the gazer's mind 
 With feeble blifs, and but allure the fight, 
 Nor rouze with impulfe quick the feeling heart. 
 Thus feen by ihepherd from Hymettus' brow, 
 What painted landfchapes fpread their charms beneath? 
 Here palmy groves, amid whofe umbrage green 
 Th' unfading olive lifts her filver head, 
 
 C a Refound-
 
 ( 10 ) 
 
 Refounding once with Plato's voice, arife ; 
 Here vine-clad hills unfold their purple (lores, 
 Here fertile vales their level lap expand, 
 
 Amid whole beauties glifterino; Athens tow'rs. 
 
 ^j ^j 
 
 Tho' thro' the graceful feats Iliflus roll 
 His fage-infpiring flood, whofe fabled banks 
 The fpreading laurel (hades, tho' rofeate Morn 
 Pour all her fplendors on th' empurpled fcene, 
 Yet feels* the mufing Hermit truer joys, 
 As from the cliff that o'er his cavern hangs, 
 He views the piles of fall'n Perfepolis 
 In deep arrangement hide the darkfome plain. 
 Unbounded wafte ! the mould'ring Obelifc 
 Here, like a blafted oak, afcends the clouds ; 
 Here Parian domes their vaulted halls difclofe 
 Horrid with thorn, where luris the fecret thief, 
 
 Whence
 
 Whence flits the twilight-loving bat at eve, 
 And the deaf adder wreaths her fpotted train, 
 The dwellings once of Elegance and Art. 
 Here temples rife, amid whofe hallow'd bounds 
 Spires the black pine, while thro' the naked ftreetj 
 Haunt of the tradeful merchant, fprings the grals : 
 Here columns heaped on proftrate columns, torn 
 From their firm bafe, encreafe the mouldering malk 
 Far as the fight can pierce, appear the fpoils 
 Of funk magnificence : a blended fcene 
 
 o 
 
 Of moles, fanes, arches, domes, and palaces, 
 Where, with his brother horror, ruin fits. 
 
 O come then, Melancholy ', queen of thought, 
 O come with faintly look and ftedfaft ftep, 
 From forth thy cave embower'd with mournful yew^ 
 
 Where
 
 Where ever to the curfew's folemn found 
 Lift'ning thou fitt'ft, and with thy cyprefs bind 
 Thy votary's hair, and feal him for thy fon. 
 But never let Euphrofyne beguile 
 With toys of wanton mirth my fixed mind, 
 Nor with her primrofe garlands ftrew my paths. 
 What tho' with her the dimpled Hebe dwells, 
 With young-ey'd Pleafure, and the loofe-rob'd Joy ; 
 Tho' Venus, mother of the Smiles and Loves, 
 And Bacchus, ivy-crown'd, in myrtle bow'r 
 With her in dance fantaftic beat the ground : 
 What tho' 'tis her's to calm the blue ferene, 
 And at her prefence mild the lowering clouds 
 Difperfe in air, and o'er the face of heav'n 
 New day diffufive glows at her approach j 
 Yet are thefe joys that Melancholy gives, 
 
 By
 
 By Contemplation taught, her fifter fage. 
 Than all her witlefs revels happier far. 
 
 Then ever, beauteous Contemplation, hail! 
 From thee began, aufpicious maid, my fong, 
 With thee (hall end : for thou art fairer far 
 Than are the nymphs of Cirrha's mofly grot ; 
 To loftier rapture thou can ft wake the thought >: 
 Than all the fabling Poet's boafted pow'rs. 
 Hail, queen divine f whom, as tradition tells, 
 Once in his ev'ning-walk a Druid found 
 Far in a hollow glade of Mona's woods, 
 And piteous bore with hofpitable hand 
 To the clofe ihelter of his oaken bowV.. 
 
 
 
 There foon the Sage admiring mark'd the dawn. 
 
 o o 
 
 Of folemn Mufing in thy penfive thought ;-. 
 
 For
 
 C 
 
 For when a Trailing babe, you lov'd to lie 
 Oft deeply lift'ning to the rapid roar 
 Of wood-hung Meinai, ftream of Druids 
 That lav'd his hallow'd haunt with dafhtng wave. 
 
 FINIS.
 
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