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Such beauty and beneficence combin'd;
The prompting seraph, and the poet's lyre,
For me, when I forget the darling theme,
Be my tongue mute, my fancy paint no more,
Since God is ever present, ever felt, Beneath the spacious temple of the sky,
In the void waste, as in the city full; In adoration join ; and, ardent, raise
And where he vital breathes, there must be joy. One general song! To him, ye vocal gales, When ev'n at last the solemn hour shall come, Breathe soft, whose Spirit in your freshness breathes : And wing my mystic flight to future worlds, Oh, talk of him in solitary glooms;
I cheerful will obey : there, with new powers,
Sustaining all yon orbs, and all their suns;
Myself in him, in Light ineffable ;
Come then, expressive Silence, muse his praise. Ye softer floods, that lead the humid maze Along the vale; and thou, majestic main, A secret world of wonders in thyself, Sound his stupendous praise; whose greater voice Or bids you roar, or bids your roarings fall.
THE CASTLE OF INDOLENCE. Soft roll your incense, herbs, and fruits, and flowers,
AN ALLEGORICAL POEM.
This poem being writ in the manner of Spenser Ye forests bend, ye harvests wave, to him ;
the obsolete words, and a simplicity of diction in Breathe your still song into the reaper's heart, some of the lines, which borders on the ludicrous, As home he goes beneath the joyous Moon.
were necessary, to make the imitation more perfect. Ye that keep watch in Heaven, as Earth asleep And the style of that admirable poet, as well as the Unconscious lies, effuse your mildest beams, measure in which he wrote, are, as it were, approYe constellations, while your angels strike,
priated by custom to allegorical poems writ in our Amid the spangled sky, the silver lyre.
language; just as in French the style of Marot, Great source of day! best image here below
who lived under Francis I., has been used in tales, Of thy Creator, ever pouring wide,
and familiar epistles, by the politest writers of the From world to world, the vital ocean round,
age of Louis XIV. On Nature write with every beam his praise. The thunder rolls : be hush'd the prostrate world;
EXPLANATION OF THE OBSOLETE WORDS USED IN While cloud to cloud returns the solemn hymn.
THIS POEM. Bleat out afresh, ye hills : ye mossy rocks,
ARCHIMAGE — the chief Deftly - skilfully. Retain the sound: the broad responsive low,
or greatest of magicians Depainted — painted. Ye valleys, raise ; for the Great Shepherd reigns; or enchanters. Drowsy-head - drowsiAnd his unsuffering kingdom yet will come. A paid — paid.
ness. Ye woodlands all, awake: a boundless song Appal — affright. Eath — easy. Burst from the groves! and when the restless day, Atween – between. Efisoons — immediately, Expiring, lays the warbling world asleep
Aye - always.
often afterwards. Sweetest of birds! sweet Philomela, charm | Bale — sorrow, trouble, Eke - also. The listening shades, and teach the night his praise. misfortune.
Fays — fairies. Ye chief, for whom the whole creation smiles, Benempt - named. Gear or geer — furniture, At once the head, the heart, and tongue of all, Blazon — painting, dis. equipage, dress. Crown the great hymn! in swarming cities vast,
Glaive — sword. (Fr.) Assembled men, to the deep organ join
Breme – cold, raw. Glee - joy, pleasure. The long-resounding voice, oft breaking clear, Carol — to sing songs of Han — have. At solemn pauses, through the swelling base ; joy.
Hight - named, called ; And, as each mingling flame increases each, Caucus — the north-east and sometimes it is In one united ardor rise to Heaven.
used for is called. See Or if you rather choose the rural shade,
Certes — certainly. stanza vii. And find a fane in every secret grove;
Dan - a word prefired to Idless - idlenesx. There let the shepherd's Aute, the virgin's lay, I names.
Imp-child, or offspring ; Prick'd thro' the forest -- ! Was nought around but images of rest.
from the Saxon impan, rode through the forest.' Sleep-soothing groves, and quiet lawns between ;
to graft or plant. Sear - dry, burnt up. And flowery beds that slumberous influence kest, Kest - for cast. Sheen — bright, shining. From poppies breath'd ; and beds of pleasant Lad — for led. Sicker - sure, surely.
green, Lea - a piece of land, or Smackt — savored. Where never yet was creeping creature seen. meadow.
Soot - sweet, or sweetly. Meantime unnumber'd glittering streamlets play'd . Libbard - leopard. South — true, or truth. And hurled everywhere their waters sheen; Lig — to lie.
Stound--misfortune, pang. That, as they bicker'd through the sunny shade, Losel — a loose idle fellow. Sweltry — sultry,consum. Though restless still themselves, a lulling murmur Louting — bowing, bend- ing with heat.
Swink — to labor. Lithe – loose, lar. Thrall — slave.
Join'd to the prattle of the purling rills, Mell — mingle.
Transmew'd-transformed. Were heard the lowing herds along the vale, Moe - more. Vild - vile.
And flocks loud-bleating from the distant hills, Moil — to labor. Unkempt (Lat. incomptus) And vacant shepherds piping in the dale: Mote - might.
And now and then sweet Philomel would wail, Muchel or mochel-much, Ween — to think, be of Or stock-doves plain amid the forest deep, great. opinion.
That drowsy rustled to the sighing gale ; Nathless — nevertheless. Weet -- to know ; to weet, And still a coil the grasshopper did keep; Ne - nor.
Yet all these sounds yblent inclined all to sleep. Needments — necessaries. Whilom — erewhile, forNoursling - a child that merly.
Full in the passage of the vale, above, is nursed. Wight - man.
A sable, silent, solemn forest stood ; Noyance-harm. Wis, for wist — to know, Where nought but shadowy forms was seen to Prankt-colored, adorned think, understand.
Wonne (a noun) - dwell As Idless fancied in her dreaming mood : Perdie (Fr. par Dieu) – ing.
And up the hills, on either side, a wood an old oath. Wroke — wreakt.
Of blackening pines, aye waving to and fro,
Sent forth a sleepy horror through the blood; N. B. The letter Y is frequently placed in the be- And where this valley winded out, below,
ginning of a word by Spenser, to lengthen it a The murmuring main was heard, and scarcely heard, syllable, and en at the end of a word, for the same
to flow. reason, as withouten, casten, &c.
A pleasing land of drowsy-head it was,
Of dreams that wave before the half-shut eye;
For ever flushing round a summer-sky: Yclad - clad.
There eke the soft delights, that witchingly
Instil a wanton sweetness through the breast,
But whate'er smack'd of noyance, or unrest,
Was far far off expellid from this delicious nest.
The landskip such, inspiring perfect ease,
Where Indolence (for so the wizard hight)
Close hid his castle 'mid embowering trees,
That half shut out the beams of Phoebus bright
And made a kind of checker'd day and night;
Meanwhile, 'unceasing at the massy gate, O MORTAL man, who livest here by toil,
Beneath a spacious palm, the wicked wight Do not complain of this thy hard estate ;
Was plac'd ; and to his lute, of cruel fate, That like an emmet thou must ever moil, And labor harsh, complain'd, lamenting man's estate Is a sad sentence of an ancient date ; And, certes, there is for it reason great;
Thither continual pilgrims crowded still, For, tho' sometimes it makes thee weep and wail, From all the roads of Earth that pass'd thereby : And curse thy star, and early drudge and late, For, as they chaunc'd to breathe on neighboring Withouten that would come an heavier bale,
bill, Loose life, unruly passions and diseases pale. The freshness of this valley smote their eye,
And drew them ever and anon more nigh; In lowly dale, fast by a river's side,
Till clustering round th' enchanter false they hung With woody hill o'er hill encompass'd round, Ymolten with his syren melody; A most enchanting wizard did abide,
While o'er th' enfeebling lute his hand he flung, Than whom a fiend more fell is nowhere found. And to the trembling chords these tempting versee It was, I ween, a lovely spot of ground;
sung: And there a season atween June and May, Half prankt with spring, with summer half em “Behold! ye pilgrims of this Earth, behold! brown'd,
See all but man with unearn'd pleasure gay: A listless climate made, where, sooth to say, See her bright robes the butterfly unfold, No living wight could work, ne cared ev'n for play. / Broke from her wintery tomb in prime of May!
What youthful bride can equal her array? “ What, what is virtue, but repose of mind, Who can with her for easy pleasure vie ?
A pure, ethereal calm, that knows no storm ; From mead to mead with gentle wing to stray, Above the reach of wild ambition's wind,
From flower to flower on balmy gales to fly, Above the passions that this world deform, is all she has to do beneath the radiant sky.
And torture man, a proud malignant worm?
But here, instead, soft gales of passion play, Behold the merry minstrels of the morn,
And gently stir the heart, thereby to form The swarming songsters of the careless grove, A quicker sense of joy; as breezes stray Ten thousand throats ! that from the flowering Across th' enliven'd skies, and make them still more thorn
gay. Hymn their good God, and carol sweet of love, Such grateful kindly raptures them emove :
“ The best of men have ever lov'd repose : They neither plow, nor sow; ne, fit for Nail,
They hate to mingle in the filthy fray; E'er to the barn the nodden sheaves they drove;
Where the soul sours, and gradual rancor grows, Yet theirs each harvest dancing in the gale,
Embitter'd more from peevish day to day.
Ev'n those whom Fame has lent her fairest ray,
From a base world at last have stol'n away: • Outcast of Nature, man! the wretched thrall
So Scipio, to the soft Cumaan shore
Retiring, tasted joy he never knew before.
“But if a little exercise you choose, That all proceed from savage thirst of gain :
Some zest for ease, 'tis not forbidden here. For when hard-hearted Interest first began
Amid the groves you may indulge the Muse, To poison Earth, Astræa left the plain;
Or tend the blooms, and deck the vernal year; Guile, violence, and murder, seiz'd on man,
Or softly stealing, with your watery gear, And, for soft milky streams, with blood the rivers
Along the brook, the crimson-spotted fry ran.
You may delude: the whilst, amus'd, you hear
Now the hoarse stream, and now the zephyr's sigh, “Come, ye, who still the cumbrous load of lifo Attuned to the birds, and woodland melody. Push hard up hill; but as the farthest steep You trust to gain, and put an end to strife, “() grievous folly ! to heap up estate, Down thunders back the stone with mighty sweep, Losing the days you see beneath the Sun; And hurls your labors to the valley deep,
When, sudden, comes blind unrelenting Fate, For ever vain : come, and, withouten fee,
And gives th' untasted portion you have won, I in oblivion will your sorrows steep,
With ruthless toil, and many a wretch undone, Your cares, your toils, will steep you in a sea To those who mock you gone to Pluto's reign, Of full delight: 0 come, ye weary wights, to me! There with sad ghosts to pine, and shadows dun
But sure it is of vanities most vain, “ With me. you need not rise at early dawn, To toil for what you here untoiling may obtain." To pass the joyless day in various stounds : Or, louting low, on upstart Fortune fawn,
He ceas'd. But still their trembling ears retain d And sell fair honor for some paltry pounds;
The deep vibrations of his witching song; Or through the city take your dirty rounds,
That, by a kind of magic power, constrain'd To cheat, and dun, and lie, and visit pay,
To enter in, pell-mell, the listening throng. Now flattering base, now giving secret wounds :
Heaps pour'd on heaps, and yet ihny slipt along, Or prowl in courts of law for human prey,
In silent ease: as when beneath the beam In venal senate thieve, or rob on broad highway.
Of summer-moons, the distant woods among,
Or by some flood all silver'd with the gleam, “No cocks, with me, to rustic labor call,
The soft-embodied Fays through airy portal stream: From village on to village sounding clear:
By the smooth demon so it order'd was, To tardy swain no shrill-voic'd matrons squall;
And here his baneful bounty first began : No dogs, no babes, no wives, to stun your ear;
Though some there were who would not further No hammer's thump; no horrid blacksmith sear,
pass, Ne noisy tradesmen, your sweet slumbers start,
And his alluring baits suspected han, With sounds that are a misery to hear :
The wise distrust the too fair-spoken man. But all is calm, as would delight the heart
Yet through the gate they cast a wishful eye: Of Sybarite of old, all nature, and all art.
Not to move on, perdie, is all they can;
For, do their very best, they cannot fly, “ Here nought but candor reigns, indulgent ease, but often each way look, and often sorely sigh. Good-natur'd lounging, sauntering up and down: They who are pleas'd themselves must always | When this the watchful wicked wizard saw, please ;
With sudden spring he leap'd upon them straight On others' ways they never squint a frown, And, soon as touch'd by his unhallow'd paw, Nor heed what haps in hamlet or in town: They found themselves within the cursed gate; Thus, from the source of tender indolence, Full hard to be repass'd, like that of Fate. With milky blood the heart is overflown,
Not stronger were of old the giant crew, Is sooth'd and sweetend by the social sense; Who sought to pull high Jove from regal state; For Interest, Envy, Pride, and Strife, are banishid Though feeble wretch he seem'd, of sallow hue. hence.
Certes, who bides his grasp, will that encounter rue
For whomsoe'er the villain takes in hand,
With all the lodges that thereto pertain'd, Their joints unknit, their sinews melt apace; No living creature could be seen to stray ; As lithe they grow as any willow-wand,
While solitude and perfect silence reign'd: And of their vanish'd force remains no trace: So that to think you dreamt you almost was con So when a maiden fair, of modest grace,
strain'd. In all her buxom blooming May of charms, Is seized in some losel's hot embrace,
As when a shepherd of the Hebrid isles, She waxeth very weakly as she warms,
Plac'd far amid the melancholy main, Chen sighing yields her up to love's delicious harms.
(Whether it be lone fancy him beguiles;
Or that aërial beings sometimes deign
To stand embodied, to our senses plain,)
Sees on the naked hill, or valley low,
The whilst in ocean Phoebus dips his wain, repose ; And in sweet torpor he was plunged deep,
A vast assembly moving to and fro: Ne could himself from ceaseless yawning keep;
Then all at once in air dissolves the wondrous
Ye gods of quiet, and of sleep profound !
Whose soft dominion o'er this castle sways,
And all the widely-silent places round, The lad leap'd lightly at his master's call.
Forgive me, if my trembling pen displays He was, to weet, a little roguish page,
What never yet was sung in mortal lays. Save sleep and play who minded nought at all, But how shall I attempt such arduous string, Like most the untaught striplings of his age.
I, who have spent my nights, and nightly days, This boy he kept each band to disengage,
In this soul-deadening place, loose-loitering ? Garters and buckles, task for him unfit,
Ah! how shall I for this uprear my moulted wing ? But ill-becoming his grave personage,
And which his portly paunch would not permit, Come on, my Muse, nor stoop to low despair, So this same limber page to all performed it.
Thou imp of Jove, touch'd by celestial fire! Meantime the master-porter wide display'd
Thou yet shalt sing of war, and actions fair,
Which the bold sons of Britain will inspire ; Great store of caps, of slippers, and of gowns; Wherewith he those that enter'd in, array'd
of ancient bards thon yet shalt sweep the lyre ;
Thou yet shalt tread in tragic pall the stage, Loose, as the breeze that plays along the downs, And waves the summer-woods when evening
Paint love's enchanting woes, the hero's ire,
The sage's calm, the patriot's noble rage, frowns. O fair undress, best dress! it checks no vein,
Dashing corruption down through every worthless But every flowing limb in pleasure drowns,
age. And heightens ease with grace. This done, right fain,
The doors, that knew no shrill alarming bell, Sir porter sat him down, and turn'd to sleep again. Ne cursed knocker ply'd by villain's hand,
Self-open'd into halls, where, who can tell Thus easy rob'd, they to the fountain sped,
What elegance and grandeur wide expand, That in the middle of the court up-threw
The pride of Turkey and of Persia land ? A stream, high-spouting from its liquid bed, Soft quilts on quilts, on carpets carpets spread, And falling back again in drizzly dew:
And couches stretch'd around in seemly band; There each deep draughts, as deep he thirsted, And endless pillows rise to prop the head; drew.
So that each spacious room was one full-swelling It was a fountain of Nepenthe rare ,
bed. Whence, as Dan Homer sings, huge pleasaunce grew,
And everywhere huge cover'd tables stood, And sweet oblivion of vile earthly care ;
With wines high-favor'd and rich viands crown'd Fair gladsome waking thoughts, and joyous dreams Whatever sprightly juice or tasteful food more fair.
On the green bosom of this Earth are found, This rite perform'd, all inly pleas'd and still,
And all old Ocean genders in his round : Withouten trump, was proclamation made.
Some hand unseen these silently display'd, “ Ye sons of Indolence, do what you will;
Ev'n undemanded by a sign or sound; And wander where you list, thro' hall or glade!
You need but wish, and, instantly obey'd, Be no man's pleasure for another staid ;
|Fair-rang'd the dishes rose, and thick the glasses Let each as likes him best his hours employ,
play'd. And curs'd be he who minds his neighbor's trade! Here dwells kind Ease, and unreproving Joy ;
Here freedom reign'd, without the least alloy ; He little merits bliss who others can annoy."
Nor gossip's tale, nor ancient maiden's gall,
Nor saintly spleen, durst murmur at our joy, Straight of these endless numbers, swarming And with envenom'd tongue our pleasures pall. round,
For why ? there was but one great rule for all; As thick as idle motes in sunny ray,
To wit, that each should work his own desire, Not one eftsoons in view was to be found,
And eat, drink, study, sleep, as it may fall, But every man strolld off his own glad way, Or melt the time in love, or wake the lyre, Wide o'er this ainple court's black area,
And carol what, unbid, the Muses might inspire.
The rooms with costly tapestry were hung, When sleep was coy, the bard in waiting there, Where was inwoven many a gentle tale ;
Cheer'd the lone midnight with the Muse's love: Such as of old the rural poets sung,
Composing music bade his dreams be fair, Or of Arcadian or Sicilian vale :
And music lent new gladness to the morning air. Reclining lovers, in the lonely dale, Pour'd forth at large the sweetly-tortur'd heart; Near the pavilions where we slept, still ran Or, sighing tender passion, swellid the gale, Soft-tinkling streams, and dashing waters fell, And taught charm'd echo to resound their smart;
And sobbing breezes sigh'd, and oft began While flocks, woods, streams, around, repose and (So work'd the wizard) wintry storms to swell, peace impart.
As Heaven and Earth they would together mell
At doors and windows, threatening, seem'd to Those pleas'd the most, where, by a cunning
The demons of the terapest, growling fell, Depainted was the patriarchal age;
Yet the least entrance found they none at all; What time Dan Abraham left the Chaldee land, Whence sweeter grew our sleep, secure in massy And pastur'd on from verdant stage to stage,
hall. Where fields and fountains fresh could best engage.
And hither Morpheus sent his kindest dreams, Toil was not then. Of nothing took they heed,
Raising a world of gayer tinct and grace;
O'er which were shadowy cast Elysian gleams,
That play'd, in waving lights, from place to Blest sons of Nature they! true golden age indeed!
And shed a roseate smile on Nature's face. Sometimes the pencil, in cool airy halls,
Not Titian's pencil e'er could so array Bade the gay bloom of vernal landskips rise,
So fierce with clouds the pure ethereal space; Or Autumn's varied shades imbrown the walls: Ne could it e'er such melting forms display, Now the black tempest strikes th' astonish'd eyes, As loose on flowery beds all languishingly lay. Now down the steep the flashing torrent flies; The trembling Sun now plays o'er Ocean blue,
| No, fair illusions! artful phantoms, no! And now rude mountains frown amid the skies;
My Muse will not attempt your fairy-land: Whate'er Lorraine light-touch'd with softening
She has no colors that like you can glow: hue,
To catch your vivid scenes too gross her hand. Or savage Rosa dash'd, or learned Poussin drew.
But sure it is, was ne'er a subtler band Each sound, too, here, to languishment inclin'd,
Than these same guileful angel-seeming sprites,
Who thus in dreams, voluptuous, soft, and bland, Lull’d the weak bosom, and induced ease,
Pour'd all th' Arabian Heaven upon her nights, Aërial music in the warbling wind,
And bless'd them oft besides with more refin'd At distance rising oft by small degrees,
They were in scoth a most enchanting train, Entangled deep in its enchanting snares,
Ev'n feigning virtue ; skilful to unite The listening heart forgot all duties and all cares.
With evil, good, and strew with pleasure, pain.
But for those fiends, whom blood and broils delight; A certain music, never known before,
Who hurl the wretch, as if to Hell outright, Here lull'd the pensive melancholy mind;
Down, down black gulfs, where sullen waters Full easily obtain'd. Behoves no more,
sleep, But sidelong, to the gently-waving wind,
Or hold him clambering all the fearful night To lay the well-tund instrument reclin'd;
On beetling cliffs, or pent in ruins deep; From which, with airy flying fingers light,
They, till due time should serve, were bid far Beyond each mortal touch the most refin'd,
hence to keep. The god of winds drew sounds of deep delight: Whence, with just cause, the harp of Æolus it hight. Ye guardian spirits, to whom man is dear,
From these foul demons shield the midnight Ah me! what hand can touch the string so fine?
gloom : Who up the lofty diapason roll
Angels of fancy and of love, be near, Such sweet, such sad, such solemn airs divine, And o'er the blank of sleep diffuse a bloom : Then let them down again into the soul ?
Evoke the sacred shades of Greece and Rome, Now rising love they fann'd; now pleasing dole
And let them virtue with a look impart: They breath'd, in tender musings, through the
But chief, awhile, O! lend us from the tomb heart;
These long-lost friends for whom in love we And now a graver sacred strain they stole,
smart, As when seraphic hands an hymn impart,
And fill with pious awe and joy.mixt woe the Wild-warbling Nature all above the reach of Art!
Such the gay splendor, the luxurious state,
Or are you sportive ?-Bid the morn of youth