[ocr errors]

Pleas'd that the nobler principles could move And taught the maids of Greece this sovereign His daughter's heart, and soften it to love,

lawIcarius own'd the auspices divine,

She most shall conquer, who shall most withWove the fair crown), and bless'd the holy

draw. shrine. But ah ! the dreaded parting hour to brave! Then strong affection griev'd for what it gave. Should he the comfort of his life's decline,

VERSES IN MEMORY OF A LADY. His life's last charm to Ithaca resign?

WRITTEN AT SANDGATE CASTLE, 1768. Or, wand'ring with her to a distant shore, Behold Eurotas' long-lov'd banks no more? Nec tantum ingenio, quantum servire dolori. Expose his grey hairs to an alien sky,

PROPERT. Nor on his country's parent bosom die 10? • No, prince," he cried ; " for Sparta’s hapo | No nuptial charm to known, or known, to bide,

Let others boast the base and faithless pride, pier plain Leave the lov'd honours of thy little reign.

With vain disguise from Nature's dictates part, The grateful change shall equal honours bring.

For the poor triumph of a vacant heart; -Lord of himself, a Spartan is a king.”

My verse the god of tender vows inspires, When thus the prince, with obvious grief Dwells on my soul, and wakens all her fires, opprest,

Dear, silent partner of those happier hours, “Canst thou not force the father from thy breast? That pass'd in Hackthorn's vales, in Blagdou's Not without pain benold one child depart,

bowers ! Yet bid me tear a nation from my heart?

If yet thy gentle spirit wanders here, - Not for all Sparta's, all Euboea's plains"

Borne by its virtues to no nobler sphere; He said, and to his coursers gave the reins.

If yet that pity which, of life possest, Still the fond sire pursues with suppliant voice; Fill'd thy fair eye, and lighten?d thro' thy breast; 'Till, mov'd, the monarch yields her to her if yet that teniler thought, that gen'rous care, choice.

The gloomy power of endless night may spare ; “ Tho' mine by vows, by fair affection mine,

Oh! while my soul for thee, for thee complains, And holy trath, and auspices divine,

Catch her warm sighs, and kiss her bleeding This suit let fair Penelope decide,


[breath, Renain the daughter, or proceed the bride."

Wild, wretched wish! Can pray'r with feeble O’er the quick blush her friendly mantle fell,

Pierce the pale ear, the statu'd ear of death? And told him all that modesty could tell.

Let patience pray, let hope aspire to prayer ! No longer now the father's fondness strove

And leave me the strong language of despair ! With patriot virtue or acknowledg'd love,

Hence, ye vain painters of ingenious woe, But on the scene that parting sighs endcard,

Ye Lytteltons, ye shining Petrarchs, go! Fair Modesty's' first honour'd fane he rear'd. I hate the languor of your lenient strain, The daughter's form the pictur'd goddess Your flow'ry grief, your impotence of pain. wore,

Oh! had ye known what I have knowa, to The daughter's veil 12 before her blushes bore,


The searching flame, the agonies of lore! 9 The women of ancient Greece, at the mar- Oh! bad ye known how souls to souls impart riage ceremony, wore garlands of flowers, pro- Their fire, or mix the life-props of the neart ! bably as emblems of purity, fertility, and beauty. Not like the streams that down the mountain Thus Euripides,

side αλλ' όμως

Tunefully mourn, and sparkle as thy glide ; Σοι καταστεψατ' έγωνιν ήνον, ώς γαμουμενην"

Iru. Not like the breeze, that sighs at ev'ning-bour,

On the soft bosom of some folding flower ; The modern Greek ladies wear these garlands in Your stronger grief, in stronger accents borne, various forms, whenever they appear dressed ; Had sooth'd the breast with burning anguish and frequently adorn themselves thus for their

torn. own amusement, and when they do not expect to The voice of seas, the winds that rouse the deep, be seen by any but their domestics.

Far-sounding fluods that tear the mountain's Voyage Litteraire de la Grece.

steep; 10 The ancients esteemed this one of the

Each wild and melancholy blast that raves greatest misfortunes that could befall them. The

Round these dim towers, and smites the beating Trojans thought it the most lamentable circum

(breath, stance attending the loss of their pilot Palinurus, | This soothes my soul—Tis Nature's mournful that his body should lie in a foreign country.

'Tis Nature struggling in the arms of death! Ignotâ, Palinure, jacebis arena.

See, the last aid of her expiring state, " Pausanias, who has recorded the story on

See Love, e'en Love, has lent his darts to fate ! which this little poem is founded, tells us that this was the first temple erected to Modesty in Greece.

Iphig. in Taur. Act. iv., and Colut. Rapt. Helen. 12 See the Veil of Modesty in the Musum | lib. i. v. 381, where Hermione tears her goldCapitolinum, vol. j.; and for further proofs embroidered veil on the disappearance of Helen: of its high antiquity, see Hom. Odyss. lib. vi. Auream quoque rupit capitis tegmen, Claud. Epithal. Honor, where he says,

"The lady died in child-bed. Et crines festina ligat, peplumque fuentem Allevat


Ob! when beneath bis golden shafts I bled, Yet not within the hospitable hall
And vainly bound his trophies round my head : The cheerful sound of human voice I hear;
When crown'd with flowers, he led the rosy day, No piteous eye is near,
Liv'd to my eye, and drew my soul away- To see me drooping on the lonely wall.
Could fear, could fancy, at that tender hour,
See the dim grave demand the nuptial flower?
There, there bis wreathes dejected Hymen
strew'd ;

And mourn'd their bloom umfaded as he view'd,

Little bird, with bosom red, There each fair hope, each tenderness of life,

Welcome to my humble shed ! Each nameless charm of soft obliging strife,

Courtly domes of high degree
Delight, love, fancy, pleasure, genius fled,

Have no room for thee and me;
And the best passions of my soul lie dead;
All, all is there in cold oblivion laid,

Pride and pleasure's fickle throug

Nothing mind an idle song.
But pale remembrance bending o'er a shade.

Daily near my table steal,
O come, ye softer sorrows, to my breast !
Ye lenient sighs, that slumber into rest! [wave, Doubt not, little though there be,

While I pick my scanty meal.
Come, soothing dreams, your friendly pinions But I'll cast a crumb to thee ;
We'll bear the fresh rose to yon honour'd grave;

Well rewarded, if I spy For once this pain, this frantic pain forego,

Pleasure in thy glancing eye ;
And feel at last the luxury of woe !

See thee, when thou'st eat thy fill,
Ye holy suff'rers, that in silence wait
The last sad refage of relieving fate!

Plume thy breast, and wipethy bill.
That rest at eve beneath the cypress gloom,

• Come, iny feather'd friend, again,

Well thou know'st the broken pane.
And sleep familiar on your future toinb;

Ask of me tby daily store ;
With you I'll waste the slow-departing day,
And wear with you th' uncolour'd huurs away.

Go not uear Avaro's door;

Once within bis iron hall,
Oh! lead me to your cells, your lonely ailes,
Where resignation folds her arms and smiles :

Woeful end shall thee befall.
Where holy faith unwearied vigils keeps,

Savage !--He would soon divest And guards the urn where fair Constantia sleeps: Then, with solitary joy,

Of its rosy plumes thy breast; There, let me there in sweet oblivion lie,

Eat thee, bones and all

, my boy! And calmly feel the tutord passions die.


O Nature! grateful for the gifts of mind,

Duteous I bend before thy holy shrine ;

To other hands be Fortune's goods assign'd, The gentle pair that in these lonely shades,

And thou, more bounteous, grant me only Wand'ring, at eve or morn, I oft have seen,

thine. Now, all in vain, I seek at eve or morn, With drooping wing, forlorn,

Bring gentlest Love, bring Fancy to my breast; Along the grove, along the daisied green.

And if wild Genius, in his devious way, For them I've warbled many a summer's day,

Would sometimes deigu to be my ev'ning guest, Till the light dews impearled all the plain,

Or near my lone shade not unkindly stray: And the glad shepherd shut bis nightly fold ; I ask no more! for happier gists than these, Stories of love, and high adventures old

The sufl'rer, man, was never born to prove; Were the dear subjects of my tuneful strain.

But may my soul eternal slumbers seize, Ah! wbere is now the hope of all my lay? If lost to Genius, Fancy, and to Lore! Now they, percbance, thai heard them all are

dead !
With them the meed of melody is Aed,
And fled with them the list'ning ear of praise.

Vainly I dreamt, that when the wint'ry sky
Scatter'd the white flood on the wasted plain,
When not one berry, not one leaf was nigh,

Now cease your sweet pipes, shepherds! cease To sooth keen hunger's pain,

your lays, Vainly I dreamt my songs might not be vain.

Ye warbling train, that fill the echoing groves That oft within the hospitable hall

With your melodious love-notes! Die, ye winds, Some scatter'd fragment haply I might find,

That o'er Arcadian valleys blow ! ye streams, Some friendly erumb perchance for me design'd, Ye garrulous old streams, suspend your course, When seen despairing on the neigbbouring wall.

And listen to Menalcas. -
Deluded bird, those hopes are now no more!

Dull Time bas blasted the departing year,
And Winter frowns severe,

Come, fairest of the beauteous train that sport Wrapping his wan limbs in his mantle hoar;

On Ladon's flow'ry side, my Delia, come !

For thee thy shepherd, silent as he sits
See Spectator, No. 164.

Within the green wood, sighs: for thee prepares


INSCRIPTIONS...MONODY...IMITATION OF WALLER. 459 The various wreathes in vain; explores the | Ah me! my friend ! in happier hours I spread, sbade

Like thee, the wild walk o'er the varied plain ; Where lowly lurks the violet blue, where droops,

The fairest tribe of Flora's painted train, In tender beauty, its fair spotted bells,

Each bolder shrub that grac'd her genial bed, The cowslip: oft with plaintive voice he calls When old Sylvanus, by young wishes led, The wakeful Echo-What are streams or flowers, Stole to her arms, of such fair offspring vain, Or songs of blithe birds ? What the blushing That bore their mother's beauties on their head. rose,

Like thee, inspir'd by love—twas Delia's charms Young health, or music, or the voice of praise,

'Twas Delia's taste the new creation gave: The smile of vernal suns, the fragrant breath For her my groves in plaintive sigbs would Of er’ning gales, when Delia dwells afar?

wave, And call her absent to their master's arms. She comes-Ye flowers, your fairest blooms une


Ye waving groves, your plaintive sighs forbear, IN THE ISLAND OF SICILY.

Breathe all your fragrance to the am'rous air,

Ye smiling shrubs whose heads are cloth'd with Sweet land of Muses! o'er whose favour'd

gold ! plains

She coines, by truth, by fair affection led, Ceres and Flora held alternate sway;

The long lov'd mistress of my faithful heart ! By Jove refresh'd with life-diffusing rains, The mistress of my soul, no more to part, By Phoebus blest with ev'ry kinder ray !

And all my hopes and all my vows are sped. O with what pride do I those times survey,

Vain, vain delusions ! dreams for ever fled! When Freedom, by her rustic minstrels led,

Ere twice the spring had wak'd the genial hour, Dauc'd on the green lawn many a summer's The lovely parent bore one beauteous flower, day,

And droop'd her gentle head, While pastoral Ease reclin'd her careless head. And sunk, for ever sunk, into her silent bed. In these soft shades : ere yet that shepherd Aed,

Friend of my genius! partner of my fate ! Whose music piere’d Earth, air,and Heav'n and

* To equal sense of painful suffering born!

From whose fond breast a lovely parent torn, Hell, And call'd the ruthless tyrant of the dead

Bedew'd thy pale cheek with a tear so late

Oh ! let us mindful of the short, short date, Froin the dark slumbers of bis iron cell.

That bears the spoil of human hopes away, His ear unfolding caught the magic spell : He felt the sounds glide softly through his Indulge sweet mem'ry of each happier day!

No, close, for ever close the iron gate heart;

(tell ; of cold oblivion on that dreary celi, The sounds that deign'd of Love's sweet power to where the pale shades of past enjoyments dwell, And, as they told, would point his golden And, pointing to their bleeding bosoms, say, dart.

“ On life's disastrous hour what varied woes Fix'd was the god : nor power had he to part,

await !" For the fair daughter of the sheaf-crown'd Let scenes of softer, gentler kind, queen,

Awake to fancy's soothing call,
Fair without pride, and lovely without art,

And milder ou the pensive inind,
Gather'd her wild flowers on the daisied green. The shadow'd thought of grief shall fall.
He saw, he sigh’d; and that unmelting breast,

Oft as the slowly-closing day Which arms the hand of death, the power of Draws her pale mantle from the dew-star's eye, love eonfest.

What time the shepherd'scry

Leads from the pastur'd hills his flocks away,

Attentive to the tender lay

That steals from Philomela's breast,

Let us in musing silence stray,
Where Lee beholds in mazes slow

His uncomplaining waters flow,

And all his whisp'ring shores invite the charms

of rest.
Friend of my genius! on whose natal hour,

Shone the same star, but shone with brighter

ray ; Oft as amidst thy Amwell's shades I stray, O sales of Penshurst, now so long unseen! And mark thy true taste in each winding bower, Forgot each shade secure, cach winding green; From my full eye why falls the tender shower, These lonely paths, what art hare I to tread, While other thoughts than these fair scenes Where once young Love, the blind enthuisiest, led? convey,

Yet if the genius of your conscious groves Bear on my trembling mind, and melts its His Sidney in my Sacharissa loves; powers away?

Let him with pride her cruel power unfold;
By him my pains let Evremond be told.





[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

Dress, figure,splendour, charms of play, farewell;

And all the toilet's science to excel;
E'en Love that ambush'd in this beauteous hair,

No more shall lie, like Indian archers, there.
Ye holy cares that haunt these lonely cells,

Go, erring Love! for nobler objects given!
These scenes where salutary sadness dwells;

Go, beauteous hair, a sacrifice to Heaven!
Ye sighs that minute the slow wasting day,

Soon sball the veil these glowing features hide,
Ye pale regrets that wear my life away;

At once the period of their power and pride !
O bid these passions for the world depart,

The helpless lover sball no more complain
These wild desires, and vanities of heart,

Of vows unbeard, or unrewarded pain;
Hide every trace of vice, of follies past,

While calmly sleep in each untutor'd breast
And yield to Heaven the victory at last.

My secret sorrow, and his sighs profest.
To that the poor remains of life are due,

Go, flattering train ! and, slaves to me no 'Tis Heaven that calls, and I the call pursue.

Lord of my life, my future cares are thine,

With the same sighs some happier fair adore!
My love, my duty greet thy holy shrine:

Your alter'd faith I blame vot, nor bewail-
No more my heart to vainer hopes I give,

And haply yet, (what woman is not frail?)
But live for thee, whose bounty bids me live.

Yet, haply, might I calmer minutes prove,
The power that gave these little charms their If he that lov'd me knew no other love!

Yet were that ardour, which bis breast ix-
His favours bounded, and confind their space;

Spite of those charms shall time, with rude essay, By charms of more than mortal beauty fir'd;
Tear from the cheek the transient rose away.

What nobler pride! could I to Heaven resign
But the free mind, ten thousand ages past,

The zeal, the service that I boasted mine!
Its Maker's form, shall with its Maker last.

O, change your false desires, ye flattering train,
Uncertain objects still our homes employ;

And love me pious, whom you lov'd profane !
Uncertain all that bears the name of joy!

These long adieus with lovers doom'd to go,
Of all that feel the injuries of fate

Or prove their merit, or my weakness show,
Uncertain is the search, and short the date,

But Heaven, to such soft frailties less severe,
Yet ev'n that boon what thousands wish to gain? May spare the tribute of a female tear,
That boon of death, the sad resource of pain !

May yield one tender moment to deplore
Once on my path all Fortune's glory fell,

Those gentle hearts that I must hold no more.
Her vain magnificence, and courtly swell :
Love touch'd my soul at least with soft desires,
And vanity there fed her meteor fires,
This truth at last the mighty scenes let fall,

An hour of innocence was worth them all.
Lord of my life! 0, let thy sacred ray

Tue free-born Muse her tribute rarely brings,
Shine o'er my heart, and break its clouds away, Or burns her incense to the power of kings!
Deluding, flattering, faithless world, adieu ! But Virtue ever shall her voice command,
Long hast thou taught me, God is only true: Alike a spade or sceptre in her hand.
That God alone I trust, alone adore,

Is there a prince untaiated with a throne,
No more deluded, and misled no more.

That makes the interest of mankind his own; Come, sacred hour, when wav'ring doubts Whose bounty knows no bounds of time or place, shall cease!

Whu pobly feels for all the human race:
Come, holy scenes of long repose and peace! A prince that acts in reason's steady sphere,
Yet shall my heart, to other interests true, No slave to passion, and no dupe to fear;
A moment balance 'twixt the world and you ? A breast where inild humanity resides,
Of pensive nights, of long-reflecting days, Where virtue dictates, and where wisdom guides
Be yours, at last, the triumph and the praise. A mind that, stretch'd beyond the years of
Great, gracious Master, whose unbounded


Explores the secret springs of taste and truth?
Felt thro' ten thousand worlds, those worlds obey; These, these are virtues which the Muse sball
Wilt thou for once thy awful glories shade,

And deign t espouse the creature thou hast And plant, for these, her laurels round a king!

Pritannia's monarch! this shall be thy praise ;
All other ties indignant I disciaim,

For this be crown'd with never-fading bays!
Dishonour'd those, and infamous to name!

O fatal ties for which such tears I've shed.
For which the pleasures of the world lay dead!

That world's soft pleasures you alone lisarm;
That world wjihout you, still in ght have its Virtue dwells in Arden's vale;

There her hallow'd temples rise,
But now those scenes of tempting hope I close, There her ipcepse greets the skies,
And seek the peaceful studies of repose:

Grateful as the morning gale;
Look on the past as time that stole away, There, with humble Peace and her,
And beg the blessings of a happier day.

Lives the happy villager;
Ye gay saloons, ye golden-vested halls,

There, the golden smiles of morg
Scenes of high treats, and heart-bewitching balls! Brighter every field adorn;


There the Sun's declining ray

Paphian airs in ambush sleep Fairer paints the parting day :

On the still bosom of the deep; There the woodlark louder sings,

Paphian maids around her move, Zephyr moves on softer wings,

Keen-ey'd Hope, and Joy, and Love: Groves in grecner honours rise,

Their rosy breasts a thousand Cupids lave, Purer azure spreads the skies;

And dip their wanton wings, and beat the buxom
There the fountains clearer flow,
Flowers in brighter beauty blow:

But mark, of more than vulgar mein,
For, with Peace and Virtue, there
Lives the happy villager.

With regal grace and radiant eye,

A form in youthful majesty! Distant still from Arden's vale

Britain, hail thy favour'd queen! Are the woes the bad bewail;

For her the conscious sea subsides; Distant fell Remorse, and Pain,

Old Ocean curbs his thund'ring tides, And Frenzy smiling o'er her chain !

O'er the glassy-bosom'd main Grief's quick pang, Despair's dead gipan,

Venus leads her laughing train ; Are in Arden's vale unknown:

The Paphian maids move graceful by her side, For, with Peace and Virtue, there

And o'er the buxom waves the rosy Cupids ride. Lives the happy villager! In his hospitable cell,

Fly, ye fairy-footed hours ! Love, and Truth, and Freedom dwell;

Fly, with aromatic flowers ! And, with aspect mild and free,

Such as bath'd in orient deirs, The graceful nymph, Simplicity.

Beauty's living glow diffuse; Hail, ye liberal graces, hail !

Such as in Idalia's grove Natives all of Arden's vale:

Breathe the sweets, the soul of love! For, with Peace and Virtue, there

Come, genial god of chaste delight, Liyes the happy villager.

With wreathes of festive roses crown'd, And torch that burns with radiance bright,

And liberal robe that sweeps the ground ! HYMENEAL.

Bring the days of gulden joy, ON THE MARRIAGE OF HIS PRESENT MAJESTY.

Pleasures pure, that never cloy! Awake, thou everlasting lyre!

Bring to Britain's happy pair, That once the mighty Pindar strvog,

All that's kind, and good, and fair! When wrapt with more than mortal fire,

George to thee devotes the day : The gods of Greece he sung! Awake!

lo! Hymen, haste away. Arrest the rapid foot of Tine again

Daughters of Jove! ye virgins sage, With liquid notes of joy, and pleasure's melting That wait on Camus' boary age ; strain.

That oft bis winding vales along

Have smooth'd your silver-woven song; Crown'd with each beauteous flower that blows On Acidalia's tuneful side;

O wake once more those lays sublime, With all Aonia's rosy pride,

That live beyond the wrecks of time ! Where numerous Aganippe flows;

To crown your Albion's boasted pair,

The never-fading wreath prepare ;
From Thespian groves and fountains wild,
Come, thou yellow-vested toy,

While her rocks echo to this strain,
Redolent of youth and joy,

“ The friends of freedom and of Britain reign." Fair Urania's favour'd child'! George to thee devotes the day:

Io ! Hymen, haste away!

'Tis o'er, the pleasing prospect's o'er!
Daughter of the genial main!
Queen of youth and rosy smiles,

My weary beart can hope no more

Then welcome, wan Despair !
Queen of dimple-niwelling wiles ;
Come with all thy Paphian train :

Approach with all thy dreadful train! 0, give the fair that blooms for Britain's throne,

Wild Anguish, Discontent and Pain, Thy melting charms of love, thy soul-enchanting

And thorny-pillow'd Care. zone!

Gay Hope, and Ease, and Joy, and Rest,

Ali, ali that charms the peaceful breast,
Daughter of the genial main !

For ever I resign.
Bring that heart-dissolving power,
Which once in Ida's sacred bower

Let pale Anxiety instead,
The soul of Jove oppos'd in vain :

That has not where to lay her head,

And lasting woe, be mine.
Thesire of gods thy conquering charms confess'd;
And, vanquish’d, sunk, sunk down of Juno's fus- It comes! I feel the painful woe-
t'ring breast.

My eyes for Solyman will flow
She comes, the conscious sea subsides;

in silent grief again; Old Occan curbs his thund'ring tidez :

Who, wand'ring o'er some mountain drear, Smooth the silken surface lies,

Now haply sheds the pensive tear, Where Venus' flowry chariot flies:

And calls on me in vain.

Perhaps, along the lonely shores,
See Catullus.

He now the sea's blue breast explorez,

[ocr errors]
« ElőzőTovább »