Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2007 with funding from 
 
 IVIicrosoft Corporation 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/churchyardpoemsOOgrayrich 
 
« f « i 
 
 WRITTEN 
 
 m A COUNTRY CEUHCH TAHD. 
 
 t'^S ®^Mf 
 
 i>X Jfj9,wMia»fe txiiiiX* 
 
 EGBERT CARTER & BROTHERS. 
 
 2 8 5 as r a Ti to a i) 
 
 1853. 
 
GIFT 
 
GlS'X 
 
 e 
 l?S3 
 
 *0nntEnts. 
 
 PAGB 
 CRITICAL OBSERVATIONS .... 5 
 
 ELEGY IN A COUxNTRY CHURCHYARD .... 21 
 
 ON THE SPRING . .... 87 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF A FAVORITE CAT 90 
 
 ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF ETON COLLEGE 93 
 
 TO ADVERSITY 99 
 
 THE PROGRESS OF POESY. . 103 
 
 THE BARD 113 
 
 FOR MUSIC 124 
 
 THE FATAL SISTKRS 131 
 
 THE DESCENT OF ODIN 137 
 
 THE TRIUMPHS OF OWEN 145 
 
 THE DEATH OF HOEL 149 
 
 EPITAPH ON MRS. CLARKE 152 
 
 EPITAPH ON SIR WILLIAM WILLIAMS 154 
 
 SONNET ON THE DEATH OF MR. WEST 156 
 
 257 
 
IV CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGS 
 
 A LONG STORY 157 
 
 TRANSLATION OF A PASSAGE FROM STATIUS 169 
 
 THE ALLIANCE OF EDUCATION AND GOVERNMENT 171 
 
 STANZAS TO MR. BENTLEY 177 
 
 SKETCH OF HIS OWN CHARACTER 180 
 
 ON TRE PLEASURES ARISING FROM VICISSITUDE 181 
 
CRITICAL OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 Amoxg- the most finished and classical compositions in English 
 poetry, we must certainly rank the Poems of Thomas Gray. Few 
 as they are, the mere triflings of a man of letters, who prided 
 himself less on being a scholar, than on sustaining the easy, des- 
 ultory character of a gentleman, they have suflSced to place his 
 fame above all danger from either the petulance of criticism, or 
 the caprices of taste. What Dr. Johnson admitted with regard 
 to the Elegy in a Country Churchyard may, without any restric- 
 tion, be applied to his works : the merit of their author is now 
 so generally appreciated, the public suffrages concurring with the 
 competent decision of criticism, that it has become "vain to 
 blame," if not " useless to praise him." 
 
 The Elegy is, perhaps, the most popular poem in the language. 
 It is the favorite recitation of every school-boy ; and he who 
 has once committed it to memory is not willing ever to forget it. 
 Hackneyed as it is, and, what is still worse for the effect of a 
 poem, imitated and parodied as it has been times without num- 
 ber, it still retains its original power to call up those pleasing 
 and pensive associations which the charm of the sentiment, and 
 
VI CRITICAL OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 the perfect grace of the versification, are adapted to excite. "While 
 his other productions slowly gained the public attention, the 
 Elegy, when it first found its way into some of the periodical 
 publications, was read and copied with avidity; and upon its 
 being subsequently printed, speedily ran through eleven editions. 
 It was translated into Latin verse by three different classical 
 scholars, and five have translated it into Greek. Gray himself 
 expressed surprise at the rapidity of the sale, and indignant at the 
 neglect with which, what he deemed superior productions, his 
 Odes, had been received, attributed the popularity of the Elegy 
 entirely to its subject, saying, "that the public would have re- 
 ceived it as well had it been written in prose." In this he de- 
 ceived himself. The Elegy is not the most perfect of his poems, 
 nor does it display the most original genius. It unquestionabl y 
 owe(j_yn^,cb »f thft i,?lfl^^' it immediately excited to its bei ng 
 accominodated, in its turn of thought and moral, to the capacity 
 of childh ood, and to the universal instinct of liuitian nature. But 
 then, it is in imparting this permanent eliarin to eoiuinonplace 
 sentiments, and in rescuing back to poetry, subjects which have 
 become unaffecting from their mere triteness and familiarity, 
 that the power of real genius is sometimes most unequivocally 
 exhibited. In his Elegy, Gray has, in this respect, achieved what 
 no second writer has been able to succeed in doing; and his 
 merit cannot be shown more strikingly by any circumstance 
 than by the vast distance at which he has been able to place all 
 his imitators. 
 
 But in fact, though the Elegy is less elaborated than several of 
 his poems, there are other causes to which it owes its deserved 
 popularity. This, more than any other of his works, was probably 
 written under the influence of strong feeling, and of the vivid 
 impressions of the beautiful in the scenery of nature. The date 
 
CRITICAL OBSERVATIONS. vii 
 
 of its composition, although it was not finished till some years 
 after, is the period at which his mind was overspread with mel- 
 ancholy, in consequence of the loss of his amiable and accomplished 
 friend. West. The scenes amid which it was composed were well 
 adapted to soothe and cherish that contemplative sadness which, 
 when the wounds of grief are healing, it is a luxury to indulge. 
 In the secluded and romantic churchyard where his remains are, 
 in fulfilment of his own request, deposited, there still stands a 
 majestic yew-tree, which would seem to claim on the ground of 
 high probability, to be viewed as the very one described by the 
 poet. A monument consisting of a large stone .sarcophagus on a 
 lofty base erected to his memory in Stoke Park, contiguous to 
 the spot, bears record that he is buried amid the scenes which 
 inspired his lays. On two of its sides are inscribed stanzas taken 
 from the Elegy ; and it is inevitable to believe, that the " rugged 
 elms," the " yew-tree's shade," the " wood now smiling in scorn," 
 there described, are the same as form the picturesque features of 
 the landscape. Besides this, there are expressions in the poem 
 so minutely accurate as descriptive of the objects and sounds 
 of rural nature, that nothing but actual observation could have 
 suggested the nice selection of the precise epithets by which they 
 are characteristically discriminated. These delicate touches will 
 scarcely admit of being formally particularized; but, in "the 
 nodding beech 
 
 That wreathes its old, fantastic root so high," 
 
 in " the swallow twittering from the straw-built shed," in the line 
 describing the returning herd, and in the drowsy tinklings of the 
 folded sheep falling upon the ear at intervals, so difierent from 
 the quick busy tinkling of sheep in the field, — the lover of nature 
 will not fail to recognize the marks of actual observation, as well 
 
Vlll CRITICAL OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 as of exquisite taste. No poem is richer in specimens of the 
 picturesque force of language. 
 
 Before the Epitaph, Mr. Gray originally inserted a very beau- 
 tiful stanza, which was printed in some of the first editions, but 
 afterwards omitted, because he thought that it was too long a 
 parenthesis in this place. The lines however are, in themselves, 
 exquisitely fine, and demand preservation : 
 
 "There scatter'd oft, the earliest of the year, 
 By hands unseen are showers of violets found 
 The redbreast loves to build and warble there, 
 And*little footsteps lightly print the ground." 
 
 The following stanza was also written by Gray for this poem, 
 but for some reason subsequently rejected. 
 
 "Hark! how the sacred calm that breathes around, 
 Bids every fierce tumultuous passion cease ; 
 In still small accents whispering from the ground, 
 A grateful earnest of eternal peace." 
 
 The odes of Gray display the same taste and feeling, but they 
 are certainly in a more elevated strain of composition. There 
 is little propriety in the neatly turned compliment which ascribes 
 
 "A Pindar's rapture [to] the lyre of Gray." 
 
 Gray has written two poems, which he designates Pindaric Odes. 
 These constitute nearly the whole of his resemblance to Pindar. 
 The productions of genius, at periods in the history of society so 
 remote, can seldom admit of being brought into comparison ; and 
 Pindar is of all ancient bards, perhaps, the most inaccessible to 
 either rivals or imitators. 
 The "Long Story" is an exquisite jeu cfesprit: its elegant 
 
CEITICAL OBSERVATIONS. IX 
 
 playfulness reminds us of the best productions in the same style 
 of Cowper ; and lets us more than almost any other of his poems, 
 into the secret of Gray's native character. Lord Orford is said 
 to have asserted, that Gray never wrote anything easily but 
 "things of humor," — that "humor was his natural and original 
 turn." Without subscribing exactly to the perfect correctness of 
 this opinion, we may gather from his Letters, that he had that 
 natural vivacity of temper, which, added to a keen perception of 
 the ridiculous, and a naive manner of expression, would incline 
 him, in his familiar moments, to this unbending of the faculties. 
 In his conversation, too, we are told. Gray was apt to be satirical. 
 With what zest he luxuriated in the utmost poignancy of sar- 
 casm and ridicule when he chose to give license to his pen, is, 
 indeed, sufficiently evinced by the three lampoons which are now 
 incorporated with his Odes and his Elegy. These would by no 
 means bear out the assertion that satire was his forte, but they 
 concur to show that it was a species of writing in which his taste 
 did not forbid him to indulge, and in which his talents would 
 doubtless have enabled him to excel. In his correspondence, 
 however, he is only playful ; and if his humor does not often 
 sparkle into wit, it still more rarely degenerates into the malignity 
 of satire. But we are anticipating our sketch of his character. 
 
 Thomas Gray was born in London, Dec. 26, 1716. He re- 
 ceived his education at Eton, under Mr. Antrobus, his maternal 
 uncle, then one of his assistant masters : it was here that he con- 
 tracted a friendship with Horace Walpole and the son of West, 
 Lord Chancellor of Ireland. From Eton he went to Cambridge, 
 and was entered a pensioner at Peter-house in 1734 ; but having 
 no taste for mathematical studies, he did not become a candidate 
 for academical honors. Both while at Eton, and during his res- 
 
X CEITICAL OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 idence at Cambridge, he was indebted for his entire support to 
 the affection and firmness of his mother, who, out of her share 
 of the proceeds of a trade in which her little capital was vested 
 previously to her marriage, in partnership with her sister, in what 
 was then called an India warehouse, (the profits of which were 
 fortunately secured to her sole benefit by articles of agreement,) 
 discharged all her own personal expenses, as well as those en- 
 tailed by her children. Gray's father, a man of the most violent 
 passions, and, judging from his brutal treatment of his wife, of 
 unprincipled character, not only refused all assistance, but even 
 endeavored to force her to give up the shop, on which she de- 
 pended for the means of procuring a liberal education for her 
 son, in order, as was supposed, to gain possession of her money. 
 To the exemplary presence of mind of his admirable mother, 
 Gray had already owed the preservation of his life. All the rest 
 of her children died in their infancy from suffocation, produced, 
 we are told, by fulness of blood. Thomas was attacked with a 
 paroxysm of a similar kind, which was removed by his mother's 
 promptly opening a vein with her own hand.* She lived to see 
 her affectionate exertions and solicitudes well repaid, to witness, 
 the rising fame, and to receive the grateful attentions of that 
 only surviving son. She died at the age of sixty-seven ; and, after 
 her decease, which took place in 1753, Gray, says Mr. Mason, 
 "seldom mentioned his mother without a sigh." 
 
 Gray left Cambridge in 1738, with the intention of applying 
 himself to the study of the law ; but he was easily induced to 
 relinquish this design on receiving an invitation to accompany 
 his friend Mr. Walpole to the continent. They proceeded together 
 
 * These facts are stated by the Rev. Mr. Mitford, in his Life of Gray, 
 prefixed to the quarto edition of his works, London, 1816. 
 
CKITICAL OBSERVATIONS. XI 
 
 through France to Italy, and passed the winter of 1739-40 at 
 Florence : they afterwards visited Eome and Naples, and were 
 proceeding to explore other parts of that classical region ; but 
 at Reggio, an unfortunate difference took place between the two 
 friends, occasioned, according to "Walpole's own statement, by 
 Gray's being *'too serious a companion" for a dissipated young 
 man, just let loose from the restraints of college. It is probable 
 that Walpole's irregularities drew from his graver friend remon- 
 strances in too indignantly severe, perhaps too authoritative a 
 tone to be brooked with temper ; and they were resented in terms 
 which Gray could never quite forgive. A separation took place, 
 and Gray pursued his travels alone to "Venice, where he spent 
 some weeks, and returned to England in September, 1741. 
 
 Two months after his arrival, his father died, and his widow, 
 left with a scanty income, retired to the house of one of her sisters, 
 Mrs. Rogers, at Stoke, near Windsor. Gray now returned to 
 Cambridge, the conveniences of a college life being better suited 
 than an independent establishment, to the narrowed state of liis 
 finances. Here, in 1742, he was admitted to the degree of bachelor 
 in the civil law. Cambridge had as a residence no attractions 
 for him beyond its literary advantages. About this period, he 
 first sedulously applied himself to poetical composition. He had 
 no serious pursuit to call forth the ardor of his mind ; and, " alas I" 
 he says in a letter to his friend West, "alas for one who has 
 nothing to do but to amuse himself!" His Ode to Spring was 
 written early in June,, during a visit to his mother at Stoke. He 
 addressed it to that same accomplished correspondent; but it 
 never reached him. West was at the time numbered with the 
 dead, his tender frame having sunk beneath the pressure of sick- 
 ness and domestic sorrows. The Ode on the prospect of Eton, the 
 Hymn to Adversity, and the Elegy in a Country Churchyard, 
 
XU CRITICAL OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 were written soon after, evidently under the influence of the 
 melancholy feelings inspired by the loss of his early friend. The 
 Ode first appeared in 1747, published by Dodsley. The Elegy 
 was not published till 1750, when, having found its way into 
 the magazines, the author requested Mr. Walpole, with whom 
 he now again corresponded on familiar terms, to put it into the 
 bands of Dodsley. 
 
 The Ode on the Progress of Poesy, and the Bard, were written 
 in 1755. The latter, however, remained for some time in an un- 
 finished state, till his accidentally seeing a blind harper performing 
 on a Welsh harp, " again," as he tells us, " put his ode in motion, 
 and brought it to a conclusion." In 1757, Gray had the honor of 
 declining the ofiice of poet laureate on the death of Gibber. " The 
 oflSce," he says in a letter to Mason, "has always humbled the 
 possessor hitherto : — if he were a poor writer, by making him 
 more conspicuous ; and if he were a good one, by setting him at 
 war with the little fry of his own profession ; for there are poets 
 little enough even to envy a poet laureate." The oflSce was ac- 
 cepted by Whitehead. 
 
 In January, 1759, the British Museum was opened to the public, 
 and Gray, during three subsequent years, continued to reside in 
 London for the purpose of daily repairing to its library, employing 
 the greater part of his time in reading and transcribing. He 
 visited Scotland in the summer of 1765, where he became ac- 
 quainted with Dr. Beattie, in whom he found, to use his own ex- 
 pression, " a poet, a philosopher, and a good man." In 1768, Gray 
 received, without solicitation, through the favor of the Duke of 
 Grafton, the appointment of Professor of Modern Languages and 
 History at the University of Cambridge ; a place of some emolu- 
 ment, for which, six years before, he had been " spirited up" to 
 apply to Lord Bute, on the death of Mr. Turner, but without 
 
CEITICAL OBSERVATIONS. XIU 
 
 success. On the Duke's installation into the chancellorship of 
 the University in the following year, Gray composed the Ode 
 for Music, which was performed in the senate-house on the 
 occasion. 
 
 It was his intention, on obtaining the professorship, to read 
 lectures ; but the declining state of his health, and his excessive 
 fastidiousness with regard to his own compositions, concurred to 
 prevent his ever realizing this design. His rigid abstemiousness 
 could not avert the attacks of hereditary gout, to which he now 
 became increasingly subject, and which left behind a painful de- 
 gree of debility, and an habitual depression of spirits. The un- 
 easiness he felt at holding the professorship without discharging 
 its duties, had at one time made him resolve upon resigning the 
 office. But he did not hold it long. On the 24th of July, 1771, 
 while at dinner in the college hall, he was seized with a sudden 
 nausea and faintness, symptomatic of an attack of gout in the 
 stomach. A few days after, he suifered a repetition of the at- 
 tack with aggravated violence, followed by frequent convulsion 
 fits, and on the 30th of July, he expired in his fifty-fifth year. 
 
 The account of Gray, given by one of his contemporaries, to 
 the general accuracy of which all his biographers have sub- 
 scribed, represents him as " perhaps the most learned man in 
 Europe." He was equally acquainted with the elegant and the 
 profound parts of science, and that not superficially, but thorough- 
 ly. He knew every branch of history, both natural and civil; 
 had read all the original historians of England, France, and Italy ; 
 and was a great antiquary. He was deeply read in Dugdale, 
 Hearne, and Spelman, and was a complete master of heraldry. 
 His skill in zoology and entomology was extremely accurate ; 
 and during the latter part of his life, he found time to resume 
 the botanical studies of his early years. His taste iu music, we 
 
Xir CRITICAL OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 are told, was excellent, being formed on the study of tlie great 
 Italian masters contemporary with Pergolesi, and he performed on 
 the harpsichord. In painting he was a connoisseur, and architecture 
 at one time received a considerable portion of his studious atten- 
 tion. But classical literature was his favorite pursuit : to this he 
 applied with constant, unwoaried assiduity ; and he is generally 
 allowed the merit of having been a prctfound as well as an elegant 
 scholar. The notes upon various Greek authors, which he has left 
 behind him, bear the marks of patient labor and accurate judgment. 
 His criticisms are replete with philosophical discrimination, and 
 discover, like everything else that proceeded from his pen, the 
 most refined and delicate taste. 
 
 Gray is described as in person small, but well made, very nice 
 and exact in his dress, in conversation lively, and possessing a sin- 
 gular facihty of expression. By his intimate friends he appears to 
 have been tenderly esteemed. To strangers he observed a reserve 
 and precision of deportment which seemed to bespeak the reverse 
 of sociability, while his polished language, which might be mis- 
 taken by them for a studied style, together with his effeminate and 
 what were thought finical manners, subjected him to the charge 
 of affectation. His fastidiousness too would sometimes betray 
 itself in the visible expression of contempt ; and he was satirical ; 
 but we do not learn that either his contempt or his sarcasm was 
 ever bestowed inappropriately, or without just provocation. His 
 general conduct was marked by urbanity and cheerfulness ; his 
 mind never contracted " the rust of pedantry." Dr. Beattie says, 
 "he had none of the airs of either a scholar or a poet." He was 
 capable too of warm friendship, and such a man could not be an 
 unamiable man. On the contrary, he is spoken of as an ornament 
 to society. 
 
 It is charged upon his character as a weakness, that, like Con- 
 
CRITICAL OBSERVATIONS. XV 
 
 greve, while he himself owed all his distinction to his mental 
 endowments and literary attainments, he " could not bear to be 
 considered only as a man of letters ; and though without birth, 
 or fortune, or station, his desire was to be looked upon as a private 
 independent gentleman who read for his amusement." There is a 
 passage in one of his letters which partly confirms, and at the 
 same time throws some light on this representation. " To find 
 one's self business," he writes, " I am persuaded is the great art 
 of life. I am never so angry as when I hear my acquaintance 
 wishing they had been bred to some poking profession, or em- 
 ployed in some office of drudgery; as if it were pleasanter to 
 be at the command of other people, than at one's own ; and as 
 if they could not go, unless they were wound up; yet I know 
 and feel what they mean by this complaint ; it proves that some 
 spirit, something of genius (more than common) is required to 
 teach a man how to employ himself." Is it more than candid 
 to conclude that his unwillingness to be regarded as a man of 
 letters, arose from that dislike of ostentatious pretension which 
 distinguishes the man of thorough learning from the pedant, while 
 what he saw in the University of professional vulgarity made 
 him set the more value on the character of the gentleman ? And 
 in this who will say that Gray was not right? 
 
£ p i t ^ p I] 
 
 MK. gray's monument 
 
 IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 
 
 BY MR. MaSuN. 
 
 No more the Grecian Muse imrival'd reigns, 
 To Britain let the nations homage pay ! 
 
 She boasts a Homer's fire in Milton's strains, 
 A Pindar's rapture in the lyre of Gray. 
 
^llosttatiDiis. 
 
 ENGRAVED BY R. S. GILBERT, PHILADELPHIA. 
 
 8TANZA8. PAINTERS. 
 
 I. G. Barret. 
 
 n. Copley Fielding. 
 
 m. J. Constable, R. A, 
 
 IV. G. Cattermolk. 
 
 V. J. Constable, R. A. 
 
 VL T. Stothard, R. a, 
 
 VII. P. Dewint. 
 
 vni. W. Boxall. 
 
 IX. S. A. Hart, A. R A. 
 
 X. G. Cattermole. 
 
 XI. J, Constable, R. A, 
 
 xn. Thomas Landseer. 
 
 XIII. Frank Howard. 
 
 XIV. W. Westall, a. R. a. 
 XV. A, W. Calloott, R, A, 
 
 XVI. J. H. Nixon. 
 
 stanzas. painters. 
 
 XVII. A. Cooper, R. A. 
 
 XVm. W. MULREADY, R. A. 
 
 XIX. J. W. Wright. 
 
 XX. Charles Landseer. 
 
 XXI. J. J. Chalon, a. R, a. 
 
 XXII. H. Howard, R. A. 
 xiou. R. Westall, R. A. 
 XXIV. J. W. Wright. 
 
 XXV. Copley Fielding. 
 
 xxvL G. Barret. 
 
 xxvn. Thales Fielding. 
 
 xxvni. 0. R. Stanley, 
 
 XXIX. W. Collins, R. A. 
 
 XXX. Frank Howard, 
 
 XXXI. H. Howard, R. A. 
 xxxn. S. A. Hart, A. R. A. 
 
 2* 
 
The vignette on the title-page is a view of Stoke-Poges church, 
 Buckinghamshire, the churchyard of which is the scene of this cele- 
 brated poem, and near which is a monument erected to the memory 
 of Gray by the late John Penn, Esq., of Stoke Park. The drawing, 
 by John Constable, Esq., R. A., has been kindly offered to the editor 
 since the publication of the former edition, and is in the possession 
 of Samuel Rogers, Esq. 
 
 The tomb of the Poet is at lihe south-east corner of the chancel, 
 near that of his aunt, Mrs. Mar;^ Antrobus. 
 
The great improvement that has taken place, within 
 a few years, in the art of Engraving on Wood, as well as 
 its general adoption, in some measure superseding the use 
 of Copper and Steel, led to the present attempt to apply 
 this mode of embellishment to a Poem of such general 
 and deserved celebrity, and which appeared to aflford the 
 greatest scope for the talents of the artist. 
 
 The Elegy itself has long been universally acknow- 
 ledged as one of the most elegant compositions which the 
 English language ever produced. 
 
 The following testimony to its great merit is not, 
 perhaps, generally known, and will not here be inappro- 
 priately introduced. 
 
 General Wolfe received a copy on the eve of the 
 assault on Quebec ; he was so struck with its beauty, that 
 he is said to have exclaimed, th'at he would have preferred 
 being its author, to that of being the victor in the pro- 
 jected attack in which he so gloriously lost his life. 
 
XX 
 
 The favour with which this edition may be received, 
 will be entirely owing to the talents of the eminent artists 
 who have so kindly seconded the Editor, if he may apply 
 such a word, in his wish to produce a specimen of beau- 
 tiful and appropriate illustration in this branch of the 
 Fine Arts ; and to them he begs to return his sincerest 
 thanks. 
 
 JOHN MARTIN. 
 
 LOKSORf 
 Oct, 10th, 1834 
 
The Curfew tolls the knell of parting day ; 
 
 The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea ; 
 The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, 
 
 And leaves the w^orld to darkness and to me. 
 
J^)t 
 
 Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, 
 And all the air a solemn stillness holds, 
 
 Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, 
 And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds : 
 
rifJ: 
 
 Save that, from yonder ivy-mantled tower, 
 
 The moping Ow"" does to the Moon complaiu 
 
 Of such as, wandering near her secret bower, 
 Molest her ancient solitary reign. 
 
IxV 
 
 Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, 
 
 Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, 
 
 Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, 
 
 The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. 
 
V 
 
 The breezy call of incense-breathing Morn, 
 
 The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, 
 
 The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, 
 
 No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. 
 
 \\j 
 
 (*>'■' 
 
Vi 
 
 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. 
 
UJrJi 
 
 Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield ; 
 
 Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke ; 
 How jocund did they drive their team a-field ! 
 
 How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke ! 
 
VitM 
 
 Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, 
 
 Their homely joys, and destiny obscure ; 
 
 Nor Grandeur hear, with a disdainful smile, 
 The short and simple annals of the poor. 
 
^# 
 

 
 ^1 
 
 mry^ 
 
 «x 
 
 The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, 
 
 And all that beauty, all that wealth, e'er gave, 
 
 Await, alike, th' inevitable hour ; — 
 
 The paths of glory lead but to the grave. 
 
W:M]'':m^ 
 
 X 
 
 Nor you, ye proud ! impute to these the fault, 
 If memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise ; 
 
 Where, through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault. 
 The pealing anthem swells the note of praise. 
 
xr- 
 
 Can storied urn, or animated bust, 
 
 Back to its mansion call the tieeting breath? 
 Can Honour's voice provoke the silent dust ? 
 
 Or Flattery soothe the dull cold ear of Death ? 
 
XKr- 
 
 Perhaps, in this neglected spot, is laid 
 
 Some heart, once pregnant with celestial fire ; 
 
 Hands, that the rod of empire might have sway'd, 
 Or wak'd to ecstasy the li.ving lyre. 
 
But Knowledge, to their eyes, her ample page. 
 
 Rich with the spoils of Time, did ne'er unroll ; 
 
 Chill Penury repressed their noble rage, 
 
 And froze the genial current of the soul. 
 
X»l? 
 
 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, 
 And waste its sweetness on the desert air. 
 
XV 
 
 Some village Hampden, 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. 
 
/■K>f>T^. ~^*»^c«.r^ 
 
 %V1i 
 
 Th' applause of listening senates to command ; 
 
 The threats of pain and ruin to despise ; 
 To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, 
 
 And read their history in a nation's eyes, 
 
xi^r-t- 
 
 Their lot forbad : nor circumscrib'd alone 
 
 Their growing virtues, but their crimes confin'd ; 
 
 Forbad to wade through slaughter to a throne, 
 And shut the gates of mercy on mankind. 
 
X17J3BJ 
 
 The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide ; 
 
 To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame ; 
 Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride, 
 
 With incense kindled at the Muse's flame* 
 
XiiX 
 
 Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife, 
 Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray ; 
 
 Along the cool, sequester' d vale of life, 
 
 They kept the noiseless tenour of their way. 
 
x\ 
 
 yet e'en these bones from insult to protect, 
 Some frail memorial still erected nigh, 
 
 With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck'd, 
 Implores the passing tribute of a sigh. 
 
XX£ 
 
 Their name, their years, spelt by th' unlettered Muse, 
 The place of fame and elegy supply ; 
 
 And many a holy text around she strews. 
 That teach the rustic moralist to die. 
 
XXJEir 
 
 For who, to dumb Forgetfulness a prey, 
 
 This pleasing, anxious being e'er resign'd ; 
 
 Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day. 
 
 Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind ? 
 
„V 'M 
 
 XXJIJrJ: 
 
 Oii some fond breast the parting soul relies ; 
 
 Some pious drops the closing eye requires ; 
 E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries; 
 
 E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires. 
 
XXCT 
 
 For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead, 
 Dost in these lines their artless tale relate ; 
 
 If, 'chance, by lonely Contemplation led, 
 
 Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate ; 
 
XXV 
 
 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. 
 
XXVJJ 
 
 " There, at the foot of yonder nodding beech. 
 That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, 
 
 His listless lengtk, at noontide, would he stretch, 
 And pore upon the brook that babbles by. 
 
WVrT 
 
 " Hard by yon wood, now smiling, as in scorn. 
 
 Muttering his wayward fancies, he would rove ; 
 
 Now drooping, woeful, wan, like one forlorn. 
 
 Or craz'd with care, or cross'd in hopeless lave. 
 
sxvimt 
 
 ** One morn, I miss'd him on the 'customed hill. 
 
 Along the heath, and near his favourite tree ; 
 Another came, — nor yet beside the rill. 
 
 Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood, was he ; 
 
XXfiX 
 
 " The next, with dirges due, in sad array. 
 
 Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne. 
 Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay 
 
 Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn." 
 

 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. 
 
XXXK 
 
 Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere ; 
 
 ^.■■. .. 
 
 Heaven did a recompense as largely send : 
 He gave to Misery all he had — a tear ; 
 
 He gain'd from Heaven ('twas all he wish'd) a friend. 
 
XXvXJIJ: 
 
 Or draw his frailties from their dread abode : 
 
 No further seek his merits to disclose, 
 
 (There they alike in trembling hope repose,) 
 The bosom of his Father and his God. 
 
ODES. 
 
©If) i\}e SpHog. 
 
 Lo ! where the rosy bosom'd Hours, 
 
 Fair Venus' train, appear. 
 Disclose the long expecting flowers, 
 
 And wake the purple year ! 
 The x\ttic warbler paurs her throat, 
 Responsive to the cuckoo's note, 
 
 The untaught harmony of Spring : 
 While, whispering pleasure as they fly, 
 Cool Zephyrs through the clear blue sky 
 
 Their gather'd fragrance fling. 
 
 Where'er the oaks thick branches stretch 
 
 A broader browner shade, 
 Where'er the rude and moss-grown beech 
 
 O'ercanopies the glade, 
 
ON THE SPRING. 
 
 Beside some water's rushy brink 
 With me the muse shall sit, and think 
 
 (At ease reclined in rustic state) 
 How vain the ardor of the crowd, 
 How low, how little are the proud, 
 
 How indigent the great ! 
 
 Still is the toiling hand of Care ; 
 
 The panting herds repose : 
 Yet hark, how through the peopled air 
 
 The busy murmur glows ! 
 The insect-youth are on the wing, 
 Eager to taste the honied spring, 
 
 And float amid the liquid noon : 
 Some lightly o'er the current skim, 
 Some show their gayly gilded trim 
 
 Quick-glancing to the sun. 
 
 To Contemplation's sober eye 
 Such is the race of Man : 
 
ON THE SPRING. 89 
 
 And they that creep, and they that fly, 
 
 Shall end where they began. 
 Alike the Busy and the Gray 
 But flutter through life's little day. 
 
 In Fortune's varying colors dress'd : 
 Brush'd by the hand of rough Mischance, 
 Or chill'd by Age, their airy dance 
 
 They leave, in dust to rest. 
 
 Methinks I hear, in accents low, 
 
 The sportive kind reply : 
 Poor moralist ! and what art thou ? 
 
 A solitary fly ! 
 Thy joys no glittering female meets, 
 No hive hast thou of hoarded sweets, 
 
 No painted plumage to display : 
 
 On hasty wings thy youth is flown ; 
 
 Thy sun is set, thy spring is gone — 
 
 We frolic while 'tis May. 
 8* 
 
0r) the Si^^il] of ^ F^b^Hte G^f, 
 
 DROWNED IN A TUB OF GOLD FISHES. 
 
 'TvvAS on a lofty vase's side, 
 Where China's gayest art had dyed 
 
 The azure flowers that blow ; 
 Demurest of the tabby kind, 
 The pensive Selima, reclined, 
 
 Gazed on the lake below. 
 
 Her conscious tail her joy declared ; 
 The fair round face, the snowy beard, 
 
 The velvet of her paws, 
 Her coat, that with the tortoise vies, 
 Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes, 
 
 She saw ; and purr'd applause. 
 
DEATH OF A FAVORITE CAT. 
 
 Still had she gazed ; but 'midst the tide 
 Two angel forms were seen to glide, 
 
 The Genii of the stream : 
 Their scaly armor's Tyrian hue 
 Through richest purple to the view 
 
 Betray'd a golden gleam. 
 
 The hapless nymph with wonder saw ; 
 A whisker first, and then a claw, 
 
 With many an ardent wish, 
 She stretch'd, in vain, to reach the prize 
 What female heart can gold despise 'J 
 
 What Cat's averse to fish '? 
 
 Presumptuous maid ! with looks intent 
 Again she stretch'd, again she bent. 
 
 Nor knew the gulf between. 
 (Malignant Fate sat by and smiled). 
 The slippery verge her feet beguiled, 
 
 She tumbled headlong in. 
 
92 DEATH OF A FAYOEITE CAT. 
 
 Eight times emergiDg from the flood; 
 She mew'd to every watery God, 
 
 Some speedy aid to send. 
 No Dolphin came, no Nereid stirr'd : 
 Nor cruel Tom^ nor Susan heard. 
 
 A favorite has no friend ! 
 
 From hence ye beauties, undeceived. 
 Know, one false step is ne'er retrieved, 
 
 And be with caution bold. 
 Not all that tempts your wandering eyes 
 And heedless hearts, is lawful prize, 
 
 Nor all that glisters, gold. 
 
00 (| ^i^i^^t ^i-o^peef of £loo College. 
 
 'AvOpuTTog, LKavi) TzpocpaaLq elg to Svarvxslv. 
 
 MENANDUR. 
 
 Ye distant spires, ye antique towers, 
 
 That crown the watery glade, 
 Where grateful science still adores 
 
 Her Henry's* holy shade ; 
 And ye, that from the stately brow 
 Of Windsor's heights the' expanse below 
 
 Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey, 
 Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowers among 
 Wanders the hoary Thames along 
 
 His silver-winding way : 
 
 ♦ King Henry the Sixth, founder of the College. 
 
94 ON A DISTANT PROSPECT 
 
 Ah, happy hills ! ah, pleasing shade ! 
 
 Ah, fields beloved in vain ! 
 Where once my careless childhood stray'd, 
 
 A stranger yet to pain ! 
 I feel the gales that from ye blow 
 A momentary bliss bestow, 
 
 As waving fresh their gladsome wing, 
 My weary soul they seem to soothe. 
 And, redolent of joy and youth. 
 
 To breathe a second spring. 
 
 Say, father Thames, for thou hast seen 
 
 Full many a sprightly race 
 Disporting on thy margent green, 
 
 The paths of pleasure trace ; 
 Who foremost now delight to cleave 
 With pliant arm, thy glassy wave ? 
 
 The captive linnet which enthral ? 
 What idle progeny succeed 
 To chase the rolling circle's speed 
 
 Or urge the flying ball i 
 
OF ETON COLLEGE. 95 
 
 While some, on earnest business bentj 
 
 Their murmuring labors ply 
 'Gainst graver hours that bring constraint 
 
 To sweeten liberty : 
 Some bold adventurers disdain 
 The limits of their little reign, 
 
 And unknown regions dare descry : 
 Still as they run they look behind, 
 They hear a voice in every wind, 
 
 And snatch a fearful joy. 
 
 Gray hope is theirs by fancy fed, 
 
 Less pleasing when possess'd ; 
 The tear forgot as soon as shed, 
 
 The sunshine of the breast : 
 Theirs buxom health, of rosy hue, 
 Wild wit, invention ever new. 
 
 And lively cheer, of vigor born ! 
 The thoughtless day, the easy night. 
 The spirits pure, the slumbers light. 
 
 That fly the' approach of morn. 
 
96 ON A DISTANT PROSPECT 
 
 Alas ! regardless of their doom, 
 
 The little victims play ; 
 No sense have they of ills to come, 
 
 Nor care beyond to-day : 
 Yet see, how all around 'em wait 
 The ministers of human fate, 
 
 And black Misfortune's baleful train ! 
 Ah, show them where in ambush stand, 
 To seize their prey the murderous band ! 
 
 Ah, tell them they are men ! 
 
 These shall the fury Passions tear, 
 
 The vultures of the mind. 
 Disdainful Anger, pallid Fear, 
 
 And Shame that skulks behind ; 
 Or pining Love shall waste their youth, 
 Or Jealousy, with rankling tooth, 
 
 That inly gnaws the secret heart ; 
 And Envy wan, and faded Care, 
 Grim-visaged comfortless Despair, 
 
 And Sorrow's piercing dart. 
 
OF ETTON COLLEGE. 97 
 
 Ambition this shall tempt to rise, 
 
 Then whirl the wretch from high, 
 To bitter Scorn a sacrifice, 
 
 And grinning Infamy. 
 The stings of Falsehood those shall try 
 And hard Unkindness' altered eye, 
 
 That mocks the tear it forced to flow : 
 And keen Remorse, with blood defiled. 
 And moody Madness laughing wild 
 
 Amid severest woe. 
 
 Lo ! in the vale of years beneath, 
 
 A grisly troop are seen. 
 The painful family of Death, 
 
 More hideous than their queen : 
 This racks the joints, this fires the veins. 
 That every laboring sinew strains, 
 
 Those in the deeper vitals rage : 
 Lo ! Poverty, to fill the band, 
 That numbs the soul with icy hand, 
 
 And slow consuming Age. 
 
98 ETON COLLEGE. 
 
 To each his sufferings : all are men, 
 
 Condemn'd alike to groan ; 
 The tender for another's pain, 
 
 The' unfeeling for his own. 
 Yet, ah ! why should they know their fate, 
 Since sorrow never comes too late, 
 
 And happiness too swiftly flies? 
 Thought would destroy their paradise. 
 No more ; — where ignorance is bliss, 
 
 'Tis folly to be wise. 
 
Jo ^5bel^§iflj. 
 
 -Xijva- 
 
 Tdv (^povelv jSpoTovg 666- 
 aavra, rov ttuOel fiaog 
 Qevra avplug kx^i-v. 
 
 ASCHYLUS. 
 
 DaughtePw of Jove, relentless power, 
 Thou tamer of the human breast, 
 Whose iron scourge and torturing hour 
 
 The bad affright, afflict the best ! 
 Bound in thy adamantine chain, 
 The proud are taught to taste of pain, 
 And purple tyrants vainly groan 
 With pangs unfelt before, unpitied and alone. 
 
100 TO ADVERSITY. 
 
 When first thy sire to send on earth 
 
 Virtue, his darling child, design'd, 
 To thee he gave the heavenly birth, 
 
 And bade to form her infant mind. 
 Stern rugged nurse ! thy rigid Jore 
 With j)atience many a year she bore : 
 What sorrow wa«, thou badest her know, 
 And from her own she learn'd to melt at others' woe. 
 
 Scared at thy frown terrific, fly 
 
 Self-pleasing Folly's idle brood. 
 Wild Laughter, Noise, and thoughtless Joy, 
 
 And leave us leisure to be good. 
 Light they disperse, and with them go 
 The summer friend, the flattering foe ; 
 By vain Prosperity received, 
 To her they vow their truth, and are again believed. 
 
 Wisdom in sable garb array'd. 
 
 Immersed in rapturous thought profound, 
 
TO ADVEKSITY. 101 
 
 And Melancholy, silent maid, 
 
 With leaden eye that loves the ground. 
 
 Still on thy solemn steps attend ; 
 
 Warm Charity, the general friend, 
 With Justice, to herself severe. 
 
 And Pity, dropping soft the sadly pleasing tear. 
 
 Oh ! gently on thy suppliant's head, 
 
 Dread goddess, lay thy chastening hand ! 
 
 Not in thy Gorgon terrors clad. 
 Not circled with the vengeful band 
 
 (As by the impious thou art seen) 
 
 With thundering voice and threatening mien. 
 
 With screaming Horror's funeral cry, 
 Despair, and fell Disease, and ghastly Poverty : 
 
 Thy form benign, oh goddess, wear, 
 
 Thy milder influence impart. 
 Thy philosophic train be there 
 
 To soften, not to wound my heart. 
 9* 
 
102 TO ADVERSITY. 
 
 The generous spark extinct revive, 
 Teach me to love, and to forgive, 
 Exact my own defects to scan, 
 What others are to feel, and know mvself a Man. 
 
Jt)e ^i^ogi^e?^ of ^oe§y. 
 
 A PINDARIC ODE. 
 
 ^cjvuvTa avvsTolaiv eg 
 Ak Td tsdv epfiTjv ecjv 
 
 PINDAR. 
 
 LI. 
 Awake, ^olian lyre, awake,* 
 And give to rapture all thy trembling strings. 
 From Helicon's harmonious springs 
 
 A thousand rills their mazy progress take : 
 
 1 "Awake, my glory: awake, lute and harp." David's Psalms. 
 Variation.—" Awake, my lyre : my glory, wake." 
 
 Pindar styles his own poetry, with its musical accompaniments, kloTirjtg 
 fioy^Tzrj, A.l6Xi6eg x^P^^h A^loTiidcov tzvooh, avTioJv, -^olian song, ^olian strings, 
 the breath of the ^olian flute. 
 
 The subject and simile, as usual with Pindar, are united. The various 
 sources of poetry, which give life and lustre to all it touches, are here 
 described ; its quiet majestic progress enriching every subject (otherwise 
 dry and barren) with a pomp of diction and luxuriant harmony of num- 
 bers ; and its more rapid and irresistible course, when swoln and hur- 
 ried away by the conflict of tumultuous passions. 
 
104 THE PKOGRESS OF POESY. 
 
 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. 
 
 Through verdant vales, and Ceres' golden reign : 
 
 Now rolling down the steep amain. 
 
 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 
 
 And frantic Passions hear thy soft control. 
 On Thracia's hills the Lord of War 
 Has curb'd the fury of his car. 
 And dropp'd his thirsty lance at thy command. 
 Perching on the sceptred hand'^ 
 
 1 Power of harmony to calm the turbulent sallies of the soul. The 
 thoughts are borrowed from the first Pythian of Pindar. 
 
 2 This is a weak imitation of some beautiful lines in the same ode. 
 
THE PROGRESS OF POESY. 105 
 
 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 lightnings of his eye. 
 
 I. 3. 
 
 Thee the voice, the dance, obey,^ 
 
 Temper'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 
 
 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. 
 Slow melting strains their Queen's approach declare : 
 
 Where'er she turns, the Graces homage pay. 
 1 Power of harmony to produce all the graces of motion in the body. 
 
106 THE PKOGEESS OF POESY. 
 
 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 
 The bloom of young Desire and purple light of Love. 
 
 11. 1. 
 
 Man's feeble race what ills await !^ 
 Labor, and Penury, the racks of Pain, 
 Disease, and Sorrow's weeping train. 
 
 And Death, sad refuge from the storms of Fate ! 
 
 The fond complaint, my song, disprove. 
 
 And justify the laws of Jove. 
 
 Say, has he given in vain the heavenly muse ? 
 
 Night and all her sickly dews. 
 
 Her spectres wan and birds of boding cry. 
 
 He gives to range the dreary sky ; 
 
 Till down the eastern cliffs afar 
 
 Hyperion's march they spy, and glittering shafts of war. 
 
 * To compensate the real and imaginary ills of life, the muse was 
 given to mankind by the same Providence that sends the day, by its 
 cheerful presence, to dispel the gloom and terrors of the night. 
 
THE PROGRESS OF POESY. 107 
 
 11. 2. 
 
 In climes beyond the solar road/ 
 Where shaggy forms o'er ice-built mountains roam, 
 The muse has broke the twilight gloom 
 
 To cheer the shivering native's dull abode. 
 And oft, beneath the odorous shade 
 Of Chili's boundless forests laid, 
 She deigns to hear the savage youth repeat. 
 In loose numbers wildly sweet, 
 Their feather-cinctured chiefs, and dusky loves. 
 Her track, where'^er the goddess roves. 
 Glory pursue, and generous Shame, 
 The' unconquerable Mind, and Freedom's holy flame. 
 
 I Extensive influence of poetic genius over the remotest and most un- 
 civilized nations ; its connection with liberty, and the virtues that nat- 
 urally attend on it. [See the Erse, Norwegian, and Welsh fragments, 
 the Lapland and American ^ongs, &c,] 
 
 "Extra anni solisque vias — " 
 
 VIRGIL. 
 
 "Tutta lontana dal camin del sole." 
 
 PETRARCH. 
 
108 THE PROGRESS OF POESY. 
 
 11. 3. 
 
 Woods, that wave o'er Delphi's steep,^ 
 Isles, that crown the' j^gean deep, 
 
 Fields, that cool Ilissus laves, 
 f Or where Mseander's amber waves 
 
 In lingering labyrinths creep. 
 
 How do your tuneful echoes languish, 
 
 Mute, but to the voice of anguish ! 
 Where each old poetic mountain 
 
 Inspiration breathed around ; 
 Every shade and hallow'd fountain 
 
 Murmur'd deep a solemn sound : 
 Till the sad Nine, in Grreece's evil hour. 
 
 Left their Parnassus for the Latian plains. 
 
 Progress of Poetry from Greece to Italy, and from Italy to England. 
 Chaucer was not unacquainted with the writings of Dante or of Petrarch. 
 The Earl of Surrey and Sir Thomas Wyatt had travelled in Italy, and 
 formed their taste there. Spenser imitated the Italian writers ; Milton im- 
 proved on them : but this school expired soon after the Restoration, and 
 a new one arose on the French model, which has subsisted ever since. 
 
 [i^* Gray has been long dead : the Poets of the present day rather 
 imitate the Italian and early English Poets than the French. 
 
THE PROGRESS OF POESY. 109 
 
 Alike they scorn the pomp of tyrant Power, 
 
 And coward Vice, that revels in her chains. 
 When Latium had her lofty spirit lost, 
 They sought, oh Albion ! next thy sea-encircled coast. 
 
 III. 1. 
 
 Far from the sun and summer gale, 
 In thy green lap was Nature's Darling laid,^ 
 What time, where lucid Avon stray'd. 
 
 To him the mighty mother did unveil 
 Her awful face : the dauntless child 
 Stretch'd forth his little arms and smiled. 
 " This pencil take (she said), whose colors clear 
 Richly paint the vernal year : 
 Thine too these golden keys, immortal Boy 1 
 This can unlock the gates of joy ; 
 Of horror that, and thrilling fears. 
 Or ope the sacred source of sympathetic tears." 
 
 1 "Nature's Darling," Shakspearo. 
 10 
 
110 THE PROGKESS OF POESY. 
 
 III. 2. 
 
 Nor second He, that rode sublime* 
 Upon the seraph wings of Ecstacy, 
 The secrets of the' 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, 
 He saw ; but, blasted with excess of light, 
 Closed his eyes in endless night. 
 Behold, where Dryden's less presumptuous car 
 Wide o'er the fields of glory bear 
 Two coursers of etherial race. 
 With necks in thunder clothed,^ and long-resounding pace. 
 
 i Milton. 
 
 2 "For the spirit of the living creature was in the wheels. And above 
 the firmament, that was over their heads, was the likeness of a throne, 
 as the appearance of a sapphire stone. This was the appearance of the 
 glory of the Lord." Ezek. i. 20, 26, 28. 
 
 3 "Hast thou clothed his neck with thunder?" Job. — This verse and 
 the foregoing are meant to express the stately march and sounding energy 
 of Dryden's rhymes. 
 
THE PROGRESS OF POESY. Ill 
 
 III. 3. 
 Hark, his hands the lyre explore ! 
 Bright-eyed Fancy, hovering o'er, 
 Scatters from her pictured urn 
 Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn. 
 But ah ! 'tis heard no more ^ 
 
 Oh ! lyre divine, what daring spirit 
 
 Wakes thee now ? Though he inherit 
 Nor the pride, nor ample pinion. 
 
 That the Theban eagle bare,'^ 
 Sailing with supreme dominion 
 
 Through the azure deep of air : 
 
 ^ We have had in our language no other odes of the sublime kind than 
 that of Dryden on St. Cecilia's Day ; for Cowley, who had merit, yet wanted 
 judgment, style, and harmony, for such a task. That of Pope is not worthy 
 of so great a man. Mr. Mason indeed, of late days, has touched the true 
 chords, and with a masterly hand, in some of his choruses ; above all in the 
 last of Caractacus : 
 
 " Hark ; heard ye not yon footstep dread ?" &c. 
 
 2 Aiog Trpog bpvixa Oelov. Olymp. ii. 159. Pindar compares himself to 
 that bird, and his enemies to ravens that croak and clamor in vain below, 
 while it pursues its flight, regardless of their noise. 
 
112 THE PKOGRESS OF POESY. 
 
 Yet oft before his infant eyes would run 
 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. 
 
A PINDARIC ODE. 
 
 This Ode is founded on a tradition current in Wales, that Edward the 
 First, when he completed the conquest of that country, ordered all the 
 Bards that fell into his hands to be put to death. 
 
 I. 1. 
 
 " EujN seize thee, ruthless King ! 
 
 Confusion on thy banners wait ; 
 Though fann'd by Conquest's crimson wing. 
 
 They mock the air with idle state. 
 
 Helm nor hauberk's twisted mail/ 
 Nor e'en thy virtues, Tyrant, shall avail 
 To save thy secret soul from nightly fears, 
 From Cambria's curse, from Cambria's tears !" 
 
 1 The hauberk was a texture of steel ringlets, or rings interwoven, 
 forming a coat of mail that sat close to the body, and adapted itself to 
 every motion. 
 
 10* 
 
114 THE BARD. 
 
 Such were the sounds that o'er the crested pride 
 
 Of the first Edward scatter'd wild dismay, 
 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 quivering 
 lance. 
 
 I. 2. 
 
 On a rockj whose haughty brow 
 Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood, 
 
 Robed in the sable garb of woe, 
 With haggard eyes the poet stood ; 
 
 1 Snowdon was a name given by the Saxons to that mountainous tract : it 
 included all the highlands of Caernarvonshire and Merionethshire, as far 
 east as the river Conway. 
 
 2 Gilbert de Clare, surnamed the Red, Earl of Gloucester and Hertford ; 
 married at Westminster, May 2, 1290, to Joan de Acres or Aeon (so called 
 from having been born at Aeon in the Holy Land) second daughter of King 
 Edward.— He died 1295. 
 
 3 Edmond de Mortimer, Lord of Wigmore. 
 
 They both were Lord Marchers, whose lands lay on the borders of Wales, 
 and probably accompanied the king in this expedition. 
 
THE BARD. 11& 
 
 (Loose his beard, and hoary hair^ 
 
 Stream'd like a meteo}, to the troubled air) 
 
 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 awful voice beneath ! 
 O'er thee, oh King ! their hundred arms they wave 
 
 Revenge on thee in hoarser murmurs breathe ; 
 Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day, 
 To high-born Hoel's h^rp, or soft Llewellyn's lay. 
 
 I 3. 
 
 " Cold is Cadwallo's tongue. 
 
 That hush'd the stormy main : 
 Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed : 
 
 Mountains, ye mourn in vain 
 
 Modred, whose magic song 
 Made huge Plinlimmon bow his cloud-topt head. 
 
 1 The image was taken from a well-known picture by Raphael, represent- 
 ing the Supreme Being in the vision of Ezekiel. 
 
116 THE BARD. 
 
 On dreary Arvon's shore they lie,^ 
 Smear'd with gore, and ghastly pale : 
 Far, far aloof the' 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, 
 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 grisly tand, 
 I see them sit, they linger yet, 
 
 Avengers of their native land : 
 With me in dreadful harmony they join. 
 And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line.^ 
 
 1 The shores of Caernarvonshire opposite to the isle of Anglesey. 
 
 2 Camden and others observe, that eagles used annually to build their 
 aerie among the rocks of Snowdon, which from thence (as some think) were 
 named by the Welsh Craigian-eryri, or the crags of tho eagles. At this day 
 the highest point of Snowdon is called the Eagle's Nest. That bird is certain- 
 ly no stranger to this island, as the Scots, and the people of Cumberland, 
 AYestmoreland, &c. can testify ; it even has built its nest in the peak of Der- 
 byshire. (See Willoughby's Ornithology, published by Ray.) 
 
 3 See the Norwegian Ode (the Fatal Sisters) that follows. 
 
THE BAKD. IIT 
 
 II. 1. 
 
 "Weave the warp, and weave the woof, 
 The winding-sheet of Edward's race. 
 
 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, through Berkley's roof that ring,^ 
 Shrieks of an agonizing king ! 
 
 She-wolf of France,^ with unrelenting fang», 
 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 ! 
 Amazement in his van, with flight combined, 
 And sorrow's faded form, and solitude behind. 
 
 1 Edward the Second, cruelly butchered in Berkley Castle. 
 * Isabel of France, Edward the Second's adulterous queen. 
 3 Triumphs of Edward the Third in France. 
 
118 THE BARD. 
 
 II. 2. 
 
 " Mighty victor, mighty Lord ! 
 Low on his funeral couch he lies !* 
 
 No pitying heart, no eye, afford 
 A tear to grace his obsequies. 
 
 Is the sable warrior fled V 
 Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead. 
 The swarm, that in thy noontide beam were born ? 
 Grone to salute the rising morn. 
 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, 
 That, hush'd in grim repose, expects his evening prey. 
 
 1 Death of that king, abandoned by his children, and even robbed in his 
 last moments by his courtiers and his mistress. 
 
 2 Edward the Black Prince, dead some time before his father. 
 
 3 Magnificence of Richard the Second's reign. See Froissart, and other 
 contemporary writers. 
 
m 
 
 THE BAKD. 
 
 11. 3. 
 
 " Fill high the sparkling bowl/ 
 The rich repast prepare. 
 
 Eeft of a crown, he yet may share the feast : 
 Close by the regal chair 
 
 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 havoc urge their destined course, 
 And through the kindred squadrons mow their way. 
 
 Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame, 
 With many a foul and midnight murder fed,' 
 
 1 Richard the Second, as we are told by Archbishop Scroop and the confed- 
 erate Lords in their manifesto, by Thomas of Walsingham, and all the older 
 writers, was starved to death. The story of his assassination, by Sir Piers of 
 Exon, is of much later date. 
 
 2 Ruinous wars of York and Lancaster. 
 
 3 Henry the Sixth, George Duke of Clarence, Edward the Fifth, Richard 
 Duke of York, &c., believed to be murdered secretly in the Tower of London. 
 The oldest part of that structure is vulgarly attributed to Julius CsBsar. 
 
120 THE BARD. 
 
 Revere his consort's faith,' his father's fame,- 
 And spare the meek usurper's holy head.^ 
 x\bove, below, the rose of snow/ 
 
 Twined with her blushing foe^ we spread : 
 The bristled boar in infant-gore'' 
 
 Wallows beneath the thorny shade. 
 Now, brothers, bending o'er the' accursed loom. 
 Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom. 
 
 III. 1. 
 
 '• 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.) 
 
 1 Margaret of Anjou, a woman of heroic spirit, who struggled hard to save 
 her hu?band and her crown. 
 ■^' Henry the Fifth. 
 
 3 Henry the Sixth, very near being canonized. The line of Lancaster had 
 no right of inheritance to the crown. « 
 
 4 The white and red roses, devices of York and Lancaster. 
 
 5 The silver boar was the badge of Richard the Third ; whence he was 
 usually known in his own time by the name of the B ar. 
 
 6 Eleanor of Castile died a few years after the conquest of Wales. The 
 
THE BAKD. 121 
 
 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 
 
 Descending slow their glittering 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 P 
 
 III 2. 
 
 " Girt with many a baron bold 
 Sublime their starry fronts they rear : 
 
 heroic proof she gave of her affection for her lord is well known. The monu- 
 ments of his regret and sorrow for the loss of her, are still to be seen at 
 Northampton, Gaddington, Waltham, and other places. 
 
 1 It was the common belief of the Welsh nation, that King Arthur was still 
 alive in Fairyland, and would return again to reign over Britain. 
 
 2 Both Merlin and Taliessin had prophesied, that the Welsh should regain 
 their sovereignty c^er this island ; which seemed to be accomplished in the 
 house of Tudor. 
 
 11 
 
122 THE BARD. 
 
 And gorgeous dames, and statesmen old 
 ' In bearded majesty, appear. 
 In the midst a form divine ! 
 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 ! 
 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 heaven her many-color'd wings. 
 
 III. 3. 
 
 " The verse adorn again 
 
 Fierce war, and faithful love, 
 
 " Speed, relating an audience given by Queen Elizabeth to Paul Dzialinski, 
 ambassador of Poland, says, " And thus she, lion-like rising, daunted the 
 malapert orator no less with her stately port and majestical deporture, than 
 with the tartnesse of her princelie checkes." 
 
 2 Taliessin, chief of the bards, flourished in the sixth century. His works are 
 atill preserved, and his memory held in high veneration among his countrymen. 
 
THE BARD. 128 
 
 And truth severe, by fairy fiction drest. 
 
 In buskin'd measures move^ 
 Pale grief, and pleasing pain, 
 With horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast. 
 
 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, 
 
 Kaised 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. 
 Be thine despair, and sceptred care, 
 
 To triumph, and to die, are mine." 
 He spoke, and headlong from the mountain's height 
 Deep in the roaring tide he plunged to endless night. 
 
 1 Shakspeare. 2 Milton. 
 
 3 The succession of poets after Milton's time. 
 
(irregular.) 
 
 Performed in the Senate-House at Cambridge, July 1, 1769, at the in- 
 stallation of the Duke of Grrafton, as Chancellor of the University. 
 
 I. 
 
 " Hence, avaunt, ('tis holy ground) 
 
 Comus, and his midnight-crew, 
 And Ignorance with looks profound, 
 
 And dreaming Sloth of pallid hue, 
 Mad sedition's cry profane, 
 Servitude that hugs her chain, 
 Nor in these consecrated bowers 
 Let painted Flattery hide her serpent-train in flowers. 
 
FOR MUSIC. 125 
 
 Nor Envy base, nor creeping Gain, 
 Dare the Muse's walk to stain, 
 While bright-eyed Science watches round : 
 Hence, away, 'tis holy ground !" 
 
 II. 
 
 From yonder realms of empyrean day 
 
 Bursts on my ear the indignant lay : 
 There sit the sainted sage, the bard divine, 
 
 The few, whom genius gave to shine 
 Through every unbDrn age, and undiscover'd clime. 
 
 Rapt in celestial transport they : 
 
 Yet hither oft a glance from high 
 
 They send of tender sympathy 
 To bless the place, where on their opening soul 
 
 First the genuine ardor stole. 
 Twas Milton struck the deep-toned shell, 
 And, as the choral warblings round him swell, 
 Meek Newton's self bends from his state sublime. 
 And nods his hoary head, and listens to the rhyme. 
 11* 
 
126 FOE MUSIC. 
 
 III. 
 
 " Ye brown o'erarching groves, 
 
 That contemplation loves, 
 Where willowy Camus lingers with delight ! 
 
 Oft at the blush of dawn 
 
 I trod your level lawn, 
 Oft woo'd the gleam of Cynthia silver-bright 
 In cloisters dim, far from the haunts of Folly, 
 With Freedom by my side, and soft-eyed Melancholy." 
 
 lY. 
 
 But hark ! the portals sound, and pacing forth 
 
 With solemn steps and slow, 
 High potentates, and dames of royal birth. 
 And mitred fathers in long order go : 
 G-reat Edward, with the lilies on his brow* 
 
 From haughty Gallia torn, 
 
 1 Edward the Third, who added the fleur de lys of France to the arms of 
 England. He founded Trinity College. 
 
FOR MUSIC. 127 
 
 And sad Chatillon, on her bridal morn^ 
 
 That wept her bleeding Love, and princely Clare,'^ 
 
 And Anjou's heroine, and the paler rose,^ 
 
 The rival of her crown and of her woes, 
 
 And either Henry there," 
 The murder' d saint, and the majestic lord, 
 That broke the bonds of Rome. 
 
 (Their tears, their little triumphs o'er, 
 
 Their human passions now no more, 
 
 1 Mary de Valentia, Countess of Pembroke, daughter of Guy de Chatillon, 
 comte de St. Paul in France ; of whom tradition says, that her husband 
 Auderaar de Valentia, Earl of Pembroke, was slain at a tournament on the 
 day of his nuptials. She was the foundress of Pembroke College or Hall, 
 under the name of Aula Mariee de Valentia. 
 
 2 Elizabeth de Burg, Countess of Clare, was wife of John de Burg, son and 
 heir to the Earl of Ulster,* and daughter of Gilbert de Clare, Earl of Glouces- 
 ter, by Joan Acres, daughter of Edward the First. Hence the poet gives her 
 the epithet of -princely. She founded Clare Hall. 
 
 3 Margaret of Anjou, wife of Henry the Sixth, foundress of Queen's 
 College. The poet has celebrated her conjugal fidelity in " The Bard^'' epode 
 2d, line 13th. 
 
 Elizabeth Widville, wife of Edward the Fourth, hence called the paler rose, 
 as being of the house of York. She added to the foundation of Margaret of 
 Anjou. 
 
 4 Henry the Sixth and Eighth. The former the founder of King's, the lat- 
 ter the greatest benefactor to Trinity College. 
 
128 FOR MUSIC. 
 
 Save Charity, that glows beyond the tomb.) 
 All that on G-ranta's fruitful plain 
 Rich streams of regal bounty pour'd, 
 And bade these awful fanes and turrets rise, 
 To hail their Fitzroy's festal morning come : 
 And thus they speak in soft accord 
 The liquid language of the skies : 
 
 V. 
 
 " What is grandeur, what is power ? 
 Heavier toil, superior pain. 
 What the bright reward we gain ? 
 The grateful memory of the good. 
 Sweet is the breath of vernal shower, 
 The bee's collected treasures sweet, 
 Sweet music's melting fall, but sweeter yet 
 The still small voice of gratitude." 
 
FOJR MUSIC. 129 
 
 VI. 
 
 Foremost and leaning from her golden cloud 
 
 The venerable Margaret see !' 
 '•Welcome, my noble son, (she cries aloud) 
 
 To this, thy kindred train, and me : 
 
 Pleased in thy lineaments we trace 
 
 A Tudor's fire, a Beaufort's grace. '^ 
 
 Thy liberal heart, thy judging eye, 
 
 The flower unheeded shall descry, 
 
 And bid it round heaven's altars shed 
 
 The fragrance of its blushing head : 
 
 Shall raise from earth the latent gem 
 
 To glitter on the diadem. 
 
 VII. 
 
 " Lo ! Granta waits to lead her blooming band, 
 Not obvious, not obtrusive, she 
 
 1 Countess of Richmond and Derby : the mother of Henry the Seventh, 
 foundress of St. John's and Christ's Colleges. 
 
 2 The Countess was a Beaufort, and married to a Tudor : hence the appli- 
 cation of this line to the Duke of Grafton, who claims descent from both theso 
 families. 
 
130 FOR MUSIC. 
 
 No vulgar praise, no venal license flings ; 
 
 Nor dares with courtly tongue refined 
 Profane thy inborn royalty of mind : 
 
 She reveres herself and thee. 
 With modest pride to grace thy youthful brow. 
 The laureate wreath, that Cecil wore, she brings,^ 
 
 And to thy just, thy gentle hand, 
 
 Submits the fasces of her sway, 
 While spirits bless'd above and men below 
 Join with glad voice the loud symphonious lay. 
 
 VIIT. 
 
 " Through the wild waves as they roar, 
 With watchful eye and dauntless mien. 
 Thy steady course of honor keep, 
 Nor fear the rocks, nor seek the shore : 
 The star of Brunswick smiles serene, 
 And gilds the horrors of the deep." 
 
 1 Lord Treasurer Burleigh was chancellor to the University in the reign 
 of Queen Elizabeth. 
 
JU E^t^l Siglel^g. 
 
 FROM THE NORSE TONGUE. 
 
 To be found in the Orcades of Thormodus Torfaeus ; Hafniae, 1697, folio : and 
 also in Bartholinus, p. 617. lib. 3. c. i. 4to. 
 
 Vitt er orpit fyrir valfalli, ^. 
 
 In the eleventh century Sigurd, Earl of the Orkney Islands, went with a 
 fleet of ships and a considerable body of troops into Ireland, to the assist- 
 ance of Sictryg with the silken beard, who was then making war on his 
 father-in-law Brian, King of Dublin : the earl and all his forces were cut 
 to pieces, and Sictryg was in danger of a total defeat ; but the enemy had 
 a greater loss by the death of Brian, their king, who fell in the action. On 
 Christmas day (the day of the battle), a native of Caithness in Scotland saw 
 at a distance a number of persons on horseback riding full speed towards a 
 hill, and seeming to enter into it. Curiosity lied him to follow them, till 
 looking through an opening in the rocks he saw twelve gigantic figures re- 
 sembling women : they were all employed about a loom ; and as they wove, 
 they sang the following dreadful song ; which when they had finished, they 
 tore the web into twelve pieces, and (each taking her portion) galloped six 
 to the north, and as many to the south. These were the Valkyriur, female 
 
132 THE FATAL SISTEKS. 
 
 divinities, servants of Odin (or Woden) in the Gothic mythology. Their 
 name signifies Choosers of the slain. They were mounted on swift horses, 
 with drawn swords in their hands : and in the throng of battle selected such 
 as were destined to slaughter, and conducted them to Valkalla, the hall of 
 Odin, or paradise of the brave : where they attended the banquet, and 
 served the departed heroes with horns of mead and ale. 
 
 Now the storm begins to lower, 
 (Haste, the loom of Hell prepare), 
 
 Iron sleet of arrowy shower 
 Hurtles in the darken' d air. 
 
 Glittering lances are the loom, 
 Where the dusky warp we strain, 
 
 Weaving many a soldier's doom, 
 Orkney's woe and Randver's bane. 
 
 See the grisly texture |row ! 
 
 ('Tis of human entrails made) 
 And the weights, that play below. 
 
 Each a gasping warrior's head. 
 
THE FATAL SISTERS. 138 
 
 Shafts for shuttles dipp'd in gore, 
 
 Shoot the trembling cords along. 
 Swordj that once a monarch bore, 
 
 Keep the tissue close and strong. 
 
 Mista, black terrific maid, 
 
 Sangrida, and Hilda, see. 
 Join the wayward work to aid: 
 
 'Tis the woof of victory. 
 
 Ere the ruddy sun be set. 
 
 Pikes must shiver, javelins sing. 
 Blade with clattering buckler meet. 
 
 Hauberk crash, and helmet ring. 
 
 (Weave the crimson web of war) 
 
 Let us go, and let us fly. 
 Where our friends the conflict share. 
 
 Where they triumph, where they die. 
 12 
 
134 THE FATAL SISTERS. 
 
 As the paths of Fate we tread. 
 
 Wading through the' ensanguined field, 
 
 Gondula, and Geira, spread 
 
 O'er the youthful king your shield. 
 
 We the reins to slaughter give, 
 Ours to kill and ours to spare : 
 
 Spite of danger he shall live. 
 
 (Weave the crimson web of war.) 
 
 They, whom once the desert beach 
 Pent within its bleak domain, 
 
 Soon their ample sway shall stretch 
 O'er the plenty of the plain. 
 
 Low the dauntless earl is laid, 
 
 Gored with many a gaping wound : 
 
 Fate demands a nobler head ; 
 
 Soon a king shall bite the ground. 
 
THE FATAL SISTERS. 136 
 
 Long his loss shall Eirin weep, 
 
 Ne'er again his likeness see ; 
 Long her strains in sorrow steep : 
 
 Strains of immortality ! 
 
 Horror covers all the heath, 
 
 Clouds of carnage blot the sun. 
 Sisters, weave the web of death. 
 * Sisters, cease ; the work is done. 
 
 Hail the task, and bail the hands ! 
 
 Songs of joy and triumph sing ! 
 Joy to the victorious bands ; 
 
 Triumph to the younger king. 
 
 Mortal, thou that hearest the tale, 
 
 Learn the tenor of our song. 
 Scotland, through each winding vale 
 
 Far and wide the notes prolong. 
 
136 THE FATAL SISTERS. 
 
 Sisters, hence with spurs of speed : 
 Each her thundering falchion wield ; 
 
 Each bestride her sable steed. 
 Hurry hurry to the field ! 
 
J\}0 Se,seer)t of O^m. 
 
 FROM THE NORSE TONGUE. 
 
 The original is to be found in Bartholinus, De Causis contemnendse Mortis ; 
 Hafniae, 1689, quarto, p. 632. 
 
 Upreis Odinn allda gautr, S^c. 
 
 Uprose the king of men with speed, 
 And saddled straight his coal-black steed : 
 Down the yawning steep he rode, 
 That leads to Hela's drear abode. ^ 
 
 1 Niflheliar, the hell of the Gothic nations, consisted of nine worlds, to 
 which were devoted all such as died of sickness, old age, or by any other 
 means than in battle. Over it presided Hela, the goddess of death. Mason. 
 
 Hela, in the Edda, is described with a dreadful countenance, and her body 
 half flesh-color, and half blue. Gray. 
 
 12* 
 
138 THE DESCEISTT OF ODIN. 
 
 Him the dog of darkness spied ;* 
 His shaggy throat he open'd wide, 
 While from his jaws, with carnage fiU'd. 
 Foam and human gore distill'd : 
 Hoarse he bays with hideous din, 
 Eyes that glow, and fangs that grin ; 
 And long pursues, with fruitless yell, 
 The father of the powerful spell. 
 Onward still his way he takes 
 (The groaning earth beneath him shakes), 
 Till full before his fearless eyes 
 The portals nine of hell arise. 
 
 Right against the eastern gate, 
 By the moss-grown pile he sate ; 
 Where long of yore to sleep was laid 
 The dust of the prophetic maid. 
 
 1 The Edda gives this dog the name of Managarmar. He fed upon 
 lives of those that were to die. Mason. 
 
 the 
 
THE DESCENT OF ODIN. 139 
 
 Facing to the northern clime, 
 Thrice he traced the Kunic rhyme ; 
 Thrice pronounced, in accents dread, 
 The thrilling verse that wakes the dead ; 
 Till from out the hollow grounds 
 Slowly breathed a sullen sound. 
 
 PROPHETESS. 
 
 What call unknown, what charms presume 
 To break the quiet of the tomb ? 
 Who thus afflicts my troubled sprite. 
 And drags me from t^e realms of night ? 
 Long on these mouldering bones have beat 
 The winter's snows, the summer's heat, 
 The drenching dews, and driving rain ! 
 Let me, let me sleep again. 
 Who is he, with voice unblest, 
 That calls me from the bed of rest ? 
 
140 THE DESCENT OF ODIN. 
 
 A traveller, to thee unknown, 
 Is he that calls, a warrior's son. 
 Thou the deeds of light shalt know ; 
 Tell m*what is done below,* 
 For whom yon glittering board is spread, 
 Dress'd for whora yon golden bed ? 
 
 PROPHETESS. 
 
 Mantling in the goblet see 
 The pure beverage of the bee : 
 O'er it hangs the shield of gold ; 
 'Tis the drink of Balder bold : 
 Balder's head to death is given. 
 Pain can reach the sons of heaven ! 
 Unwilling I my lips unclose : 
 Leave me, leave me to repose. 
 
 I Odin was anxious about the fate of his son Balder, \frho had dreamed he was 
 soon to die. He was killed by Odin's other son, Hoder, who was himself slain by 
 Vali, the son of Odin and Rinda, consonant with this prophecy. See theEdda. 
 
THE DESCENT OF ODIN. Ml 
 
 ODIN. 
 
 Once again my call obey/ 
 Prophetess, arise, and say, 
 What dangers Odin's child await. 
 Who the author of his fate ? 
 
 PROPHETESS. 
 
 In Hoder's hand the hero's doom : 
 His brother sends him to the tomb. 
 
 1 Women were looked upon by the Gothic nations as having a peculiar in- 
 sight into futurity ; and some there were that made profession of magic arts 
 and divination. These travelled round the country, and were received in 
 every house with great respect and honor. Such a woman bore the name of 
 Volva Seidkona or Spakona. The dress of Thorbiorga, one of the&e prophet- 
 esses, is described at large in Eirik's Kauda Sogu (apud Bartholin, lib. i. cap. 
 iv. p. 688). " She had on a blue vest spangled all over with stones, a neck- 
 Isice of glass beads, and a cap made of the skin of a black lamb lined with 
 white cat-skin. She leaned on a staff adorned with brass, with a round head 
 set with stones ; and was girt with an Hunlandish belt, at which hung her 
 pouch full of magical instruments. Her buskins were of rough calfskin, bound 
 on with thongs studded with knobs of brass, and her gloves of white cat-skin, 
 the fur turned inwards," &c. They were also called Fiolkyngi, or Fiolkun- 
 nug^ i. e. Multisoia; and Visindakona, i. e. Oraoulorum Mulier; Nomir^ i. e. 
 Parcae. Gray. 
 
142 THE DESCENT OF ODIN. 
 
 Now my weary lips I close : 
 Leave me, leave me to repose. 
 
 ODIN. 
 
 Prophetess, my spell obey, 
 Once again arise, and say. 
 Who the' avenger of his guilt, 
 By whom shall Hoder's blood be spilt ? 
 
 PROPHETESS. 
 
 In the caverns of the west, 
 By Odin's fierce embrace compress'd, 
 A wondrous boy shall Rinda bear, 
 Who ne'er shall comb his raven-hair,^ 
 Nor wash his visage in the stream. 
 Nor see the sun's departing beam, 
 Till he on Hoder's corse shall smile 
 Flaming on the funeral pile. 
 
 1 King Harold made (according to the singular custom of his time) a 
 solemn vow never to clip or comb his hair, till he should have extended his 
 sway over the whole country. Herbert's Iceland. Translat. p. 39. 
 
THE DESCENT OF ODIN. 143 
 
 Now my weary lips I close : 
 Leave me, leave me to repose. 
 
 ODIN. 
 
 Yet awhile my call obey ; 
 Prophetess, awake, and say, 
 What virgins these, in speechless woe,^ 
 That bend to earth their solemn brow, 
 That their flaxen tresses tear, 
 And snowy veils that float in air? 
 Tell me whence their sorrows rose ; 
 Then I leave thee to repose. 
 
 PROPHETESS. 
 
 Ha ! no traveller art thou, 
 King of men, I know thee now ; 
 Mightiest of a mighty line 
 
 ^ "It is not certain," says Mr. Herbert, "what Odin means by the ques- 
 tion concerning the weeping virgins ; but it has been supposed that it alludes 
 to the embassy afterwards sent by Frigga to try to redeem Balder from the 
 infernal regions, and that Odin betrays his divinity by mentioning what had 
 not yet happened." Iceland. Translat. p. 48. 
 
144 THE DESCENT OF ODIN. 
 
 No boding maid of skill divine 
 Art thou, nor prophetess of good ; 
 But mother of the giant brood !^ 
 
 PROPHETESS. 
 
 Hie thee hence, and boast at home, 
 That never shall inquirer come 
 To break my iron-sleep again ; 
 Till Lok has burst his tenfold chain f 
 Never, till substantial night 
 Has reassumed her ancient right ; 
 Till wrapp'd in flames, in ruin hurl'd, 
 Sinks the fabric of the world. 
 
 i In the Latin, "mater trium gigantum :" probably Angerbode, whc 
 from her name seems to be "no prophetess of good;" and who bore to 
 Loko. as the Edda says, three children, the wolf Fenris, the great serpent 
 of Midgard, and Hela, all of them called giants in that system of mythology. 
 Mason. 
 
 2 Lok is the evil being, who continues in chains till the twilight of the gods 
 approaches : when he shall break his bonds, the human race, the stars, and 
 sun shall disappear ; the earth sink in the seas, and fire consume the skies : 
 even Odin himself and his kindred deities shall perish. Mason. 
 
JW JHi|iD()t)3 of Otoen. 
 
 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 From Mr. Evans's Specimens of the Welsh Poetry : London, 1764, quarto, p, 
 25, and p. 127. Owen succeeded his father GriflSth app Cynan in the prin- 
 cipality of North Wales, A.D. 1137. This battle was fought in the year 
 1157. Jones's Relics^ vol. ii. p. 36. 
 
 Owen's praise demands my song, 
 Owen swift and Owen strong ; 
 Fairest flower of Roderic's stem, 
 Gwyneth's' shield, and Britain's gem. 
 
 * The original Welsh of the above poem was the composition of Grwalchmai 
 the son of Melir, immediately after Prince Owen Gwynedd had defeated the 
 combined fleets of Iceland, Denmark, and Norway, which had invaded his 
 territory on the coast of Anglesea. 
 
 » North Wales. 
 
146 THE TRIUMPHS OF OWEN. 
 
 He nor heaps his brooded stores, 
 Nor on all profusely pours ; 
 Lord of every regal art. 
 Liberal hand, and open heart. 
 
 Big with hosts of mighty name, 
 Squadrons three against him came ; 
 This the force of Eirin hiding, 
 Side by side as proudly riding, 
 On her shadow long and gay 
 Lochlin^ ploughs the watery way ; 
 There the Norman sails afar 
 Catch the winds and join the war ; 
 Black and huge along they sweep. 
 Burdens of the angry deep. 
 
 Dauntless on his native sands 
 The dragon son of Mona stands ;" 
 
 1 Denmark. 
 
 * The red dragon is the device of Cadwallader. which all his descendants 
 bore on their banners. Mason. 
 
THE TRIUMPHS OF OWEN. 147 
 
 In glittering arms and glory dress'd, 
 High he rears his ruby crest. 
 There the thundering strokes begin,' 
 There the press, and there the din ; 
 Talymalfra's rocky shore 
 Echoing to the battle's roar. 
 Check'd by the torrent tide of blood, 
 Backward Meinai rolls his flood ; 
 While, heap'd his master's feet around, 
 Prostrate warriors gnaw the ground. 
 
 Where his glowing eyeballs turn^ 
 Thousand banners round him burn, 
 Where he points his purple spear, 
 Hasty, hasty rout is there. 
 Marking with indignant eye 
 Fear to r.top, and shame to fly. 
 
 1 " It seems (says Dr. Evans, p. 26,) that the fleet landed in some part of 
 the firth of Menai, and that it was a kind of mixed engagement, some fighting 
 from the shore, others from the ships ; and probably the great slaughter was 
 owing to its being low water, and that they could not sail. 
 
148 THE TRIUMPHS OF OWEN. 
 
 There confusion, terror's child. 
 Conflict fierce, and ruin wild, 
 Agony, that pants for breath, 
 Despair, and honorable death. 
 
Jt)^ '^e^i\) of ifoei. 
 
 Selected from the Gododin of Aneurin,* styled the Monarch of the Bards 
 He flourished about the time of Taliessin, A.D. 570. See Mr. Evans's 
 Specimens, p. 71 and 73. 
 
 Had I but the torrent's might, 
 
 With headlong rage and wild affright 
 
 Upon Deira's squadrons hurl'd' 
 
 To rush, and sweep them from the world ! 
 
 * Aneurin with the flowing Muse, King of Bards, brother to Gildas Alba- 
 nius the historian, lived under Mynyddawg of Edinburgh, a prince of the 
 North, whose Burdorchogion, or warriors wearing the golden torques, three 
 hundred and sixty-three in number, were all slain, except Aneurin and two 
 others, in a battle with the Saxons at Cattraeth. on the eastern coast of York 
 shire. His Gododin, an heroic poem written on that event, is perhaps the 
 oldest and noblest production of that age." Jones's Relics, vol. i. p. 17. 
 
 1 The kingdom of Deira included the counties of Yorkshire, Durham, Lan 
 cashire, Westmoreland, and Cumberland. 
 
 13* 
 
160 THE DEATH OF HOEL. 
 
 Too, too secure in youthful pride, 
 By them, my friend, my Hoel, died, 
 Grreat Cian's son : of Madoc old 
 He ask'd no heaps of hoarded gold ; 
 Alone in nature's wealth array'd. 
 He ask'd and had the lovely maid. 
 
 To Cattraeth's vale in glittering row, 
 Thrice two hundred warriors go : 
 * Every warrior's manly neck 
 
 Chains of regal honor deck, 
 Wreathed in many a golden link : 
 From the golden cup they drink 
 Nectar that the bees produce, 
 Or the grape's ecstatic juice. 
 Flush'd with mirth and hope they burn : 
 But none from Cattraeth's vale return. 
 Save Aeron brave, and Couan strong, 
 (Bursting through the bloody throng) 
 And I, the meanest of them all, 
 That live to weep and sing their fall. 
 
FRAGMENTS. 151 
 
 Have ye seen the tusky boar/ 
 Or the bull with sullen roar, 
 On surrounding foes advance? 
 So Caradoc bore his lance. 
 
 Conan's name, my lay, rehearse, 
 Build to him the lofty verse, • 
 Sacred tribute of the bard, 
 Yerse, the hero's sole reward. 
 As the flame's devouring force ; 
 As the whirlwind in its course ; 
 As the thunder's fiery stroke. 
 Glancing on the shiver 'd oak ; 
 Bid the sword of Conan mow 
 The crimson harvest of the foe. 
 
 - This and the following short fragment ought to have appeared among 
 the Posthumous Pieces of Grray ; but it was thought preferable to insert them 
 in this place with the preceding fragment from the Gododin. 
 
ON MES. CLARKE. 
 
 Lo ! where this silent marble weeps, 
 A friend, a wife, a mother sleeps : 
 A heart, within whose sacred cell 
 The peaceful virtues loved to dwell. 
 Affection warm, and faith sincere. 
 And soft humanity were there. 
 In agony, in death resign'd, 
 She felt the wound she left behind. 
 Her infant image here below 
 Sits smiling on a father's woe : 
 
EPITAPH ON MRS. CLARKE. 158 
 
 Whom what awaits, while yet he strays 
 
 Along the lonely vale of days ? 
 
 A pang, to secret sorrow dear ; 
 
 A sigh ; an unavailing tear ; 
 
 Till time shall every grief remove, 
 
 With life, with memory, and with love. 
 
ON SIR WILLIAM WILLIAMS. 
 
 Written at the request of Mr. Frederick Montagu, who intended to have* 
 inscribed it on a monument at Bellisle, at the siege of which Sir W. 
 Williams was killed, 1761. 
 
 Here, foremost in the dangerous paths of fame, 
 Young Williams fought for England's fair renown; 
 
 His mind each Muse, each Glrace adorn'd his frame, 
 Nor envj dared to view him with a frown. 
 
 At Aix, his voluntary sword he drew, 
 
 There first in blood his infant honor seal'd ; 
 
 From fortune, pleasure, science, love, he flew. 
 And scorn'd repose when Britain took the field. 
 
EPITAPH ON SIR WILLIAM WILLIAMS. 155 
 
 With eyes of flame, and cool undaunted breast, 
 Victor' he stood on Bellisle's rocky steeps — 
 
 Ah, gallant youth ! this marble tells the rest. 
 Where melancholy friendship bends, and weeps. 
 
ON THE DEATH OF MR. WEST. 
 
 In vain to me the smiling mornings shine, 
 
 And reddening Phoebus lifts his golden fire : 
 The birds in vain their amorous descant join ; 
 
 Or cheerful fields resume their green attire : 
 These ears, alas ! for other notes repine, 
 
 A different object do these eyes require : 
 My lonely anguish melts no heart but mine ; 
 
 And in my breast the imperfeci; joys expire. 
 Yet morning smiles the busy race to cheer, 
 
 And new-born pleasure brings to happier men : 
 The fields to all their wonted tribute bear : 
 
 To warm their little loves the birds complain : 
 I fruitless mourn to him that cannot hear, 
 
 And weep the more, because T weep in vain. 
 
^ |.o()g Sfoi-a. 
 
 In the year 1750, Mr. Gray finished his celebrated Elegy, and communicated 
 it to his friend Mr. Walpole, whose good taste was too much charmed to 
 suffer him to withhold the sight of it from his acquaintance ; accordingly it 
 was shown about for some time in manuscript, and received with all the 
 applause it so justly merited. Amongst the rest of the fashionable world, 
 Lady Cobham, who resided at Stoke -Pogis, and to whom the mansion-house 
 and park belonged, had read and admired it Wishing to be acquainted 
 with the author, her relation Miss Speed, and Lady Schaub then at her 
 house, undertook to bring this about, by making him the first visit. He 
 had been accustomed to spend his summer vacntions from Cambridge, at the 
 house occupied by Mrs. Rogers his aunt, whither his mother and her sister, 
 Miss Antrobus. had also retired, situated at the entrance upon Stoke Com- 
 mon, called West End, and about a mile from the manor house. He 
 happened to be from home when the ladies arrived at the sequestered hab- 
 itation, and when he returned, was not a little surprised to find, written on 
 one of his papers in the parlor, the following note : " Lady Schaub's com- 
 pliments to Mr. Gray ; she is sorry not to have found him at home, to tell 
 him that Lady Brown ia very well." Such a compliment necessitated him 
 to return the visit ; and as the beginniny of the acquaintance seemed to 
 
 14 
 
158 A LONG STORY. 
 
 have a romantic character, he very soon composed the following ludicrous 
 account of the adventure, for the amusement of the ladies in question, 
 which he entitled, " A Long Story." 
 
 In Britain's isle, no matter where, 
 An ancient pile of building stands :^ 
 
 The Huntingdons and Hattons there 
 Employed the power of fairy hands 
 
 To raise the ceiling's fretted height,^ 
 Each pannel in achievements clothing, 
 
 Eich windows that exclude the light. 
 And passages, that lead to nothing. 
 
 1 In the 16th century, the house belonged to the Earls of Huntingdon, and 
 to the family of Hatton. On the death of Lady Cobham, 1760, the estate was 
 purchased from her executors by the late Hon. Thomas Penn, Lord Proprie- 
 tary of Pennsylvania : his son, the present John Penn, Esq., finding the 
 interior of the ancient mansion in a state of considerable decay, it was taken 
 down in the year 1789, with the exception of a wing, which was preserved, 
 partly for the sake of its effect as a ruin, harmonizing with the churchyard, 
 the poet's house, and the surrounding scenery. 
 
 2 The style of building called Queen Elizabeth's is here admirably de- 
 scribed, both with regard to its beauties and defects ; the third and fourth 
 stanzas delineate the fantastic manners of the time with equal truth and 
 humor 
 
A LONG STORY. 15^ 
 
 Full oft within the spacious walls, 
 
 When he had fifty winters o'er him, 
 My grave Lord-keeper^ led the brawls :^ 
 
 The seals and maces danced before him. 
 
 His bushy beard, and shoestrings green, 
 ±Iis high crown'd hat and satin doublet, 
 
 Moved the stout heart of England's queen, 
 
 Though Pope and Spaniard could not trouble it. 
 
 What, in the very first beginning ! 
 
 Shame of the versifying tribe ! 
 Your history whither are you spinning? 
 
 Can you do nothing but describe? 
 
 A house there is (and that's enough). 
 From whence one fatal morning issues 
 
 • Sir Christopher Hatton, promoted by Queen Elizabeth for his graceful 
 person and fine dancing. 
 
 2 Brawls were figure-dances then in fashion. 
 
160 A LONG STORY. 
 
 A brace of warriors, not in buff, 
 
 * But rustling in their silks and tissues. 
 
 The j&rst came cap-a-pee from France/ 
 
 Her conquering destiny fulfilling, 
 Whom meaner beauties eye askance. 
 
 And vainly ape her art of killing. • 
 
 The other amazon^ kind heaven 
 
 Had arm'd with spirit, wit, and satire ; 
 
 But Cobham had the polish given, 
 
 And tipp'd her arrows with good nature. 
 
 To celebrate her eyes, her air — 
 ' Coarse panegyrics would but tease her, 
 Melissa is her "nom de guerre." 
 
 Alas, who would not wish to please her ! 
 
 ' The Lady's husband, Sir Luke Schaub, had been ambassador at Paris 
 gome years before. 
 
 2 Miss Harriet Speed, Lady C.'s relation, afterwards married to the Count 
 de Viry, Sardinian envoy at the court of London. 
 
A LONG STOKY. 161 
 
 With bonnet blue and eapuchine, 
 
 And aprons long, they hid their arinor ; 
 And veil'd their weapons, bright and keen, 
 
 In pity to the country farmer. 
 
 Fame, in the shape of Mr. Purt,^ 
 
 (By this time all the parish know it) 
 Had told that thereabouts there lurk'd 
 
 A wicked imp they call a poet : 
 
 Who prowl'd the country far and near, 
 
 Bewitch'd the children of the peasants. 
 Dried up the cows, and lamed the deer. 
 
 And suck'd the eggs, and killed the pheasants. 
 
 My lady heard their joint petition. 
 
 Swore by her coronet and ermine. 
 She'd issue out her high commission 
 
 To rid the manor of such vermin.^ 
 
 1 The Rev. Mr. Purt, tutor to the Duke of Bridgwater, then at Eton school. ^p 
 
 2 Henry the Fourth, in the fourth year of his reign, issued out the following 
 
 14* 
 
162 A LONG STORY. 
 
 The heroines undertook the task, 
 
 Through lanes unknown, o'er stiles they ventured,' 
 Rapp'd at the door, nor stay'd to ask, 
 
 But bounce into the parlor enter'd. 
 
 The trembling family they daunt. 
 
 They flirt, they sing, they laugh, they tattle, 
 
 Rummage his mother, pinch his aunt. 
 And up stairs in a whirlwind rattle : 
 
 Each hole and cupboard they explore, 
 Each creek and cranny of his chamber. 
 
 Run hurry-skurry round the floor. 
 
 And o'er the bed and tester clamber : 
 
 commission against this species of vermin: — "And it is enacted, that no 
 master-rimOur, minstrel, or other vagabond, be in any wise sustained in the 
 land ofWales to make commoiths, or gatherings upon the people there." 
 
 ' The walk from Stoke old mansion, to the house occupied by the poet's 
 family, is peculiarly retired. The house is the property of Captain Salter, 
 and it has belonged to his family for many generations. It is a charming 
 spot for a summer residence, but has undergone great alterations and im- 
 provements since Gray gave it up in 1758. 
 
A LONG STORY. 163 
 
 Into the drawers and china pry, 
 
 Papers and books, a huge imbroglio ! 
 
 Under a teacup he might lie, 
 
 Or, creased, like dog's-ears, in a folio. 
 
 On the first marching of the troops, 
 
 The Muses, hopeless of his pardon, 
 Convey'd him underneath their hoops 
 
 To a small closet in the garden. 
 
 So rumor says : (who will, believe ?) 
 
 But that they left the door ajar, 
 Where, safe and laughing in his sleeve, 
 
 He heard the distant din of war. 
 
 Short was his joy. He little knew 
 
 The power of magic was no fable ; 
 Out of the window, whisky they flew, 
 
 But left a spell upon the table. ^ 
 
 1 The note which the ladies left upon the table. 
 
164 A LONG STORY. 
 
 The words too eager to unriddle. 
 
 The poet felt a strange disorder ; 
 Transparent bird-lime form'd the middle, 
 
 And chains invisible the border. 
 
 So cunning was the apparatus, 
 
 The powerful pot-hooks did so move him 
 That, will he, nill he. to the great house, 
 
 He went, as if the devil drove lii^n. 
 
 Yet on his way (no sign of grace. 
 For folks in fear are apt to pray) 
 
 To Phoebus he preferr'd his case. 
 
 And begg'd his aid that dreadful day. 
 
 The godhead would have back'd his quarrel ; 
 
 But with a blush, on recollection, 
 Own'd that his quiver and his laurel 
 
 'Gainst four such eyes were no protection. 
 
A LONG STORY. 165 
 
 The court was sat, the culprit there, . 
 
 Forth from their gloomy mansions creeping, 
 The lady Janes and Joans repair. 
 
 And from the gallery^ stand peeping : 
 
 Such as in silence of the night 
 
 Come (sweep) along some winding entry, 
 
 (Tyacke^ has often seen the sight) 
 Or at the chapel door stood sentry :^ 
 
 In peaked hoods and mantles tarnish'd. 
 
 Sour visages enough to scare ye, 
 High dames of honor once, that garnish'd 
 
 The drawing-room of fierce Queen Mary. 
 
 1 The music-gallery, which overlooked the hall. 
 
 2 The housekeeper. Her name which has hitherto, in all editions of Gray's 
 PoemSj been written Styack, is corrected from her gravestone in the church- 
 yard, and the accounts of contemporary persons in the parish. Housekeepers 
 are usually styled Mrs. ; the final s, doubtless caused the name to be misap- 
 prehended and misspelt. 
 
 3 The old chapel, the door of which was at the opposite extremity of the 
 hall. 
 
166 A LONG STORY. 
 
 The peeress comes. The audience stare, 
 And doff their hats with due submission : 
 
 She curtsies, as she takes her chair 
 To all the people of condition. 
 
 The bard, with many an artful fib, 
 
 Had in imagination fenced him, 
 Disproved the arguments of Squib,^ 
 
 And all that G-room' could urge against him. 
 
 But soon his rhetoric forsook him. 
 When he the solemn hall had seen ; 
 
 A sudden fit of ague shook him, 
 
 He stood as mute as poor Macleane,^ 
 
 Yet something he was heard to mutter, 
 "How in the Park beneath an old tree 
 
 1 The former has h'therto been styled groom of the chamber, and the latter 
 steward, but the legend on a gravestone, close to Tyacke^s, is to the memory 
 of William Groom, and appears to offer evidence that Grray mistook the name 
 of the one for the office of the other. 
 
 2 A famous highwayman hanged the week before. 
 
A LONG STORY. 167 
 
 (Without design to hurt the butter, 
 Or any malice to the poultry), 
 
 •' He once or twice had penn'd a sonnet ; 
 
 Yet hoped that he might save his bacon : 
 Numbers would give their oaths upon it, 
 
 He ne'er was for a conjurer taken." 
 
 The ghostly prudes with hagged face 
 
 Already had condemn'd the sinner. 
 My lady rose, and with a grace — 
 
 She smiled, and bid him come to dinner. 
 
 ^' Jesu-Maria ! Madam Bridget, 
 
 Why, what can the viscountess mean ? 
 
 (Cried the square-hoods in woful fidget) 
 The times are alter'd quite and clean 
 
 " Decorum's turn'd to mere civility ; 
 Her air and all her manners show it. 
 
168 A LONG STORY. 
 
 Commend me to her affability ! 
 Speak to a commoner and poet !" 
 
 [Here five hundred stanzas are lost.] 
 
 And so Grod save our noble king, 
 
 And guard us from long-winded lubbers. 
 
 That to eternity would sing, 
 
 And keep my lady from her rubbers. 
 
Jt*^^§l^tioo of ^ 2^§§^^e fi-ohf) Sf^tiii?. 
 
 THEB. LIB. VI. VER. 701-724. 
 
 This translation, which Gray sent to West, consisted of about a hundred 
 and ten lines. Mr. Mason selected twenty-seven lines, which he pub- 
 lished, as Gray's first attempt in English verse. 
 
 Third in the labors of the disc came on, 
 With sturdy step and slow, Hippomedon ; 
 Artful and strong he poised the well-known weight, 
 By Phlegyas warn'd, and fired by Mnestheus' fate, 
 That to avoid, and this to emulate. 
 His vigorous arm he tried before he flung, 
 Braced all his nerves, and every sinew strung, 
 Then, with a tempest's whirl, and wary eye, 
 Pursued his cast, and hurl'd the orb on high ; 
 15 
 
170 TRANSLATION FROM STATIUS. 
 
 The orb on high tenacious of its course. 
 
 True to the mighty arm that gave it force, 
 
 Far overleaps all bound, and joys to see 
 
 Its ancient lord secure of victory. 
 
 The theatre's green height and woody wall 
 
 Tremble ere it precipitates its fall ; 
 
 The ponderous mass sinks in the cleaving ground, 
 
 While vales and woods and echoing hills rebound. — 
 
 As when from Etna's smoking summit broke. 
 
 The eyeless Cyclops heaved the craggy rock ; 
 
 Where Ocean frets beneath the dashing oar, 
 
 And parting surges round the vessel roar ; 
 
 'Twas there he aim'd the meditated harm. 
 
 And scarce Ulysses scaped his giant arm. 
 
 A tiger's pride the victor bore away, 
 
 With native spots and artful labor gay, 
 
 A shining border round the margin roU'd, 
 
 And calm'd the terrors of his claws in gold. 
 
 Cambridge, May 8, 1736. 
 
Jhe ^lll^^ee of i^i|Ci|tioi] ^^9 6iobehih)eol. 
 
 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 " Instead of compiling tables of chronology and natural history, why did not 
 Mr. Gray apply the jjowers of his genius to finish the philosophic poem of 
 which he has left such an exquisite specimen?" Gibbon. 
 
 ESSAY I 
 
 lidray* tj' yade' rdv yap uolSuv 
 
 'OvTi TTW elg Atdav ye rbv eKTieXdOovra (f)v2,a^ELg. 
 
 THKOCRITUS, ID. I. 63. 
 
 As sickly plants betray a niggard earth, 
 Whose barren bosom starves her generous birth, 
 Nor genial warmth, nor genial juice retains. 
 Their roots to feed, and fill their verdant veins : 
 And as in climes, where winter holds his reign, 
 The soil, though fertile, will not teem in vain. 
 Forbids her gems to swell, her shades to rise, 
 Nor trusts her blossoms to the churlish skies . 
 So draw mankind in vain the vital airs, 
 Unform'd, unfriended, by those kindly cares. 
 
172 ALLIANCE OF EDUCATION 
 
 That health and vigor to the soul impart. 
 
 Spread the young thought, and warm the opening heart : 
 
 So fond instruction on the growing powers 
 
 Of nature idly lavishes her stores, 
 
 [f equal justice with unclouded face 
 
 Smile not indulgent on the rising race, 
 
 And scatter with a free though frugal hand, 
 
 Light golden showers of plenty o'er the land : 
 
 But tyranny has fix'd her empire there, 
 
 To check their tender hopes with chilling fear, 
 
 And blast the blooming promise of the year. 
 
 This spacious animated scene survey. 
 From where the rolling orb, that gives the day, 
 Ills sable sons with nearer course surrounds 
 To either pole, and life's remotest bounds. 
 How rude soe'er the' exterior form we find, 
 Howe'er opinion tinge the varied mind, 
 Alike t"* all, the kind, impartial Heaven 
 The sparks of truth and happiness has given . 
 
AND GOVERNMENT. 173 
 
 With sense to feel, with memory to retain, 
 
 They follow pleasure, and they fly from pain j 
 
 Their judgment mends the plan their fancy 
 
 The' event presages, and explores the cause ; 
 
 The soft returns of gratitude they know, 
 
 By fraud elude, by force repel the foe ; 
 
 While mutual wishes, mutual woes endear 
 
 The social smile and sympathetic tear. 
 
 Say, then, through ages by what fate confined 
 
 To different climes seem different souls assign'd? 
 
 Here measured laws and philosophic ease 
 
 Fix, and improve the polish'd arts of peace ; 
 
 There industry and gain their vigils keep. 
 
 Command the winds, and tame the' unwilling deep : 
 
 Here force and hardy deeds of blood prevail ; 
 
 There languid pleasure sighs in every gale. 
 
 Oft o'er the trembling nations from afar 
 
 Has Scythia breathed the living cloud of war ; 
 
 And, where the deluge burst, with sweepy sway 
 
 Their arms, their kings, their gods were roll'd away. 
 15* 
 
174 ALLIANCE OF EDUCATION 
 
 As oft have issued, host impelling host 
 
 The blue-eyed myriads from the Baltic coast. 
 
 The prostrate south to the destroyer yields 
 
 Her boasted titles, and her golden fields : 
 
 With grim delight the brood of winter view 
 
 A brighter day, and heavens of azure hue 
 
 Scent the new fragrance of the breathing rose, 
 
 And quaff the pendent vintage as it grows. 
 
 Proud of the yoke, and pliant to the rod. 
 
 Why yet does Asia dread a monarch's nod, 
 
 While European freedom still withstands 
 
 The' encroaching tide that diowns her lessening lands ; 
 
 And sees far off, with an indignant groan, 
 
 Her native plains, and empires once her own? 
 
 Can opener skies and suns of fiercer flame 
 
 O'erpower the fire that animates our frame ; 
 
 As lamps, that shed at eve a cheerful ray, 
 
 Fade and expire beneath the eye of day? 
 
 Need we the influence of the northern star 
 
 To string our nerves, and steel our hearts to war? 
 
AND GOVEENMENT. 175 
 
 And, where the face of nature laughs around 
 
 Must sickening virtue fly the tainted ground ? 
 
 Unmanly thought ! what seasons can control, 
 
 What fancied zone can circumscribe the soul, 
 
 Who, conscious of the source from whence she springs, 
 
 By reason's light on resolution's wings, 
 
 Spite of her frail companion, dauntless goes 
 
 O'er Libya's deserts and through Zembla's snows? 
 
 She bids each slumbering energy awake, 
 
 Another touch, another temper take, 
 
 Suspends the' inferior laws that rule our clay : 
 
 The stubborn elements confess her sway ; 
 
 Their little wants, their low desires, refine. 
 
 And raise the mortal to a height divine. 
 
 Not but the human fabric from the birth 
 Imbibes a flavor of its parent earth : 
 As various tracts enforce a various toil. 
 The manners speak the idiom of their soil. 
 An iron race the mountain cliffs maintain, 
 Foes to the gentler genius of the plain : 
 
176 ALLIANCE OF EDUCATION 
 
 For where unwearied sinews must be found 
 
 With side-long plough to quell the flinty ground, 
 
 To turn the torrent's swift-descending flood, 
 
 To brave the savage rushing from the wood, 
 
 What wonder, if, to patient valor train'd, 
 
 They guard with spirit, what by strength they gain'd ? 
 
 And while their rocky ramparts round they see. 
 
 The rough abode of want and liberty, 
 
 (As lawless force from confidence will grow) 
 
 Insult the plenty of the vales below ? 
 
 What wonder, in the sultry climes, that spread 
 
 Where Nile redundant o'er his summer bed 
 
 From his broad bosom life and verdure flings. 
 
 And broods o'er Egypt with his watery wings. 
 
 If with adventurous oar and ready sail, 
 
 The dusky people drive before the gale ; 
 
 Or on frail floats to neighboring cities ride, 
 
 That rise and glitter o'er the ambient tide 
 
Sl^^z^g fo lyFh Seoilelj. 
 
 Mr. Bentley had made a set of designs for Mr. Gray's Poems, particular^* 
 ly a headpiece to the Long Story. The original drawings are in the 
 library at Strawberry Hill. 
 
 In silent gaze the tuneful choir among, 
 
 Half pleased, half blushing, let the Muse admire, 
 
 While Bentley leads her sister art along, 
 And bids the pencil answer to the lyre. 
 
 See, in their course, each transitory thought 
 Fix'd by his touch a lasting essence take ; 
 
 Each dream, in fancy's airy coloring wrought 
 To local symmetry and life awake ! 
 
178 STANZAS TO MR. BENTLEY. 
 
 The tardy rhymes that used to linger on, 
 To censure cold, and negligent of fame. 
 
 In swifter measures animated run, 
 
 And catch a lustre from his genuine flame. 
 
 Ah ! could they catch his strength, his easy grace, 
 His quick creation, his unerring line ; 
 
 The energy of Pope they might efface, 
 And Dryden's harmony submit to mine. 
 
 But not to one in this benighted age 
 
 Is that diviner inspiration given, 
 That burns in Shakspeare's or in Milton's page, 
 
 The pomp and prodigality of heaven. 
 
 As when, conspiring in the diamond's blaze, 
 The meaner gems, that singly charm the sight, 
 
 Together dart their intermingled rays, 
 And dazzle with a luxury of light. 
 
STANZAS TO MR. BENTLEY. 179 
 
 Enough for me, if to some feeling breast 
 My lines a secret sympathy " impart ;" 
 
 And as their pleasing influence "flows confest," 
 A sigh of soft reflection " heaves the heart." 
 
Sl^efch of \)h otoo ^\)^^^oiet 
 
 WRITTEN IN I'ZSl, AND FOUND IN ONE OF HIS rOOKET BOOKS. 
 
 Too poor for a bribe, and too proud to importune ; 
 
 He had not the method of making a fortune : 
 
 Could love, and could hate, so was thought somewhat odd ; 
 
 No very great wit, he believed in a Grod : 
 
 A post or a pension he did not desire, 
 
 But left church and state to Charles Townshend and Squire.* 
 
 1 At that time Fellow of St. John's College, Cambridge, and afterwards 
 Bishop of St. David's. 
 
00 tt)^ ^le^^n^e ^Hgl^g fl^oiof) iiielggitiiOe. 
 
 Left unfinished b} Mr. Gray. With additions by Mr. Mason, distinguished 
 by inverted commas. 
 
 Now the golden morn aloft 
 
 Waves her dew-bespangled wing, 
 With vermeil cheek and whisper soft 
 
 She woos the tardy spring : 
 Till April starts, and calls around 
 The sleeping fragrance from the ground ; 
 And lightly o'er the living scene 
 Scatters his freshest, tenderest green. 
 
 New-born flocks, in rustic dance. 
 
 Frisking ply their feeble feet ; 
 16 
 
182 OK VICISSITUDE. 
 
 Forgetful of their wintry trance, 
 The birds his presence greet : 
 But chief, the sky-lark warbles high 
 His trembling thrilling ecstasy ; 
 And, lessening from the dazzled sight, 
 Melts into air and liquid light. 
 
 Rise, my soul ! on wings of fire. 
 
 Rise the rapturous choir among ; 
 Hark ! 'tis nature strikes the lyre, 
 
 And leads the general song : 
 Warm let the lyric transport flow, 
 Warm as the ray that bids it glow ; 
 And animates the vernal grove 
 With health, with harmony, and love." 
 
 Yesterday the sullen year 
 
 Saw the snowy whirlwind fly ; 
 
 Mute was the music of the air. 
 The herd stood drooping by : 
 
ON VICISSITUDE. 183 
 
 Their raptures now that wildly flow. 
 No yesterday nor morrow know ; 
 'Tis man alone that joy depcries 
 With forward and reverted eyes. 
 
 Smiles on past misfortune's brow 
 
 Soft reflection's hand can trace ; 
 And o'er the cheek of sorrow throw 
 
 A melancholy grace ; 
 While hope prolongs our happier hour 
 Or deepest shades, that dimly lour, 
 And blacken round our weary way, 
 Grilds with a gleam of distant day. 
 
 Still, where rosy pleasure leads, 
 
 See a kindred grief pursue ; 
 Behind the steps that misery treads. 
 
 Approaching comfort view : 
 The hues of bliss more brightly glow, 
 Chastised by sabler tints of woe ; 
 
184 OK VICISSITUDE. 
 
 And blended form, with artful strife, 
 The strength and harmony of life. 
 
 See the wretch, that long has toss'd 
 
 On the thorny bed of pain. 
 At length repair his vigor lost. 
 And breathe and walk again : 
 The meanest floweret of the vale, 
 The simplest note that swells the gale. 
 The common sun, the air, the skies. 
 To him are opening paradise. 
 
 Humble quiet builds her cell. 
 
 Near the source whence pleasure flows; 
 She eyes the clear crystalline well, 
 
 And tastes it as it goes. 
 "While" far below the "madding" crowd 
 "Rush headlong to the dangerous flood," 
 Where broad and turbulent it sweeps, 
 "And" perish in the boundless deeps. 
 
ON VICISSITUDE. 185 
 
 Mark where indolence, and pride, 
 
 " Soothed by flattery's tinkling sound," 
 
 Go, softly rolling, side by side, 
 Their dull but daily round : 
 
 " To these, if Hebe's self should bring 
 
 The purest cup from pleasure's spring. 
 
 Say, can they taste the flavor high 
 
 Of sober, simple, genuine joy? 
 
 "Mark ambition's march sublime 
 
 Up to power's meridian height ; 
 While pale-eyed envy sees him climb. 
 
 And sickens at the sight. 
 Phantoms of danger, death, and dread. 
 Float hourly round ambition's head ; 
 While spleen, within his rival's breast^ 
 Sits brooding on her scorpion nest. 
 
 " Happier he, the peasant, far. 
 
 From the pangs of passion free, 
 16* 
 
186 ON VICISSITUDE. 
 
 That breathes the keen yet wholesome air 
 
 Of rugged penury. 
 He, when his morning task is done, 
 Can slumber in the noontide sun ; 
 And hie him home, at evening's close, 
 To sweet repast, and calm repose. 
 
 " He, unconscious whence the bliss, 
 
 Feels, and owns in carols rude, 
 That all the circling joys are his, 
 
 Of dear Vicissitude. 
 From toil he wins his spirits light, 
 From busy day the peaceful night ; 
 Rich, from the very want of wealth, 
 In heaven's best treasures, peace and health." 
 

jfv"! 
 
 14 DAY USE 
 
 RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED 
 
 LOAN DEPT. 
 
 This book is due on the last date stamped below, or 
 
 on the date to which renewed. 
 
 Renewed books are subject to immediate recall. 
 
 V.rW^^G^ 
 
 HEC'D \-D 
 
 m 2'64-2 BM 
 
 JAN 3 \%'6 6 9 
 
 REC'D 
 
 12 '66 -6 PM 
 
 LOAN DEPT. 
 
 Aj 
 
 LD 2lA-40m-ll,'63 
 (E1602slO)476B 
 
 General Library 
 
 University of California 
 
 Berkeley 
 
YB \3'=^o3