Can the great artist, though with taste supreme Endued, one beauty to this Eden add? Though he, by rules unfetter'd, boldly scorns Formality and Method, round and square Disdaining, plans irregularly great. Creative Titian, can thy vivid strokes, Or thine, O graceful Raphael, dare to vie With the rich tints that paint the breathing mead? The thousand-colour'd tulip, violet's bell
Snow-clad and meek, the vermeil-tinctur'd rose, And golden crocus?-Yet with these the maid Phillis or Phoebe at a feast or wake,
Her jetty locks enamels;
In innocence and home-spun vestments dress'd, Than if cerulean sapphires at her ears Shone pendent, or a precious diamond-cross Heav'd gently on her panting bosom white.
Yon shepherd idly stretch'd on the rude rock, Listening to dashing waves, and seamews' clang High-hovering o'er his head, who views beneath The dolphin dancing o'er the level brine, Feels more true bliss than the proud admiral, Amid his vessels bright with burnish'd gold And silken streamers, though his lordly nod Ten thousand war-worn mariners revere. And great Æneas 3 gaz'd with more delight On the rough mountain shagg'd with horrid shades, (Where cloud-compelling Jove, as fancy dream'd, Descending shook his direful Ægis black) Than if he enter'd the high Capitol
On golden columns rear'd, a conquer'd world Exhausted, to enrich its stately head.
More pleas'd he slept in poor Evander's cot On shaggy skins, lull'd by sweet nightingales, Than if a Nero, in an age refin'd,
Beneath a gorgeous canopy had plac'd His royal guest, and bade his minstrels sound Soft slumbrous Lydian airs, to soothe his rest. Happy the first of men ere yet confin'd To smoky cities; who in sheltering groves, Warm caves, and deep-sunk valleys liv'd and lov'd, By cares unwounded; what the sun and showers, And genial earth untillag'd could produce, They gather'd grateful, or the acorn brown, Or blushing berry; by the liquid lapse
Of murmuring waters call'd to slake their thirst, Or with fair nymphs their sun-brown limbs to bathe; With nymphs who fondly clasp'd their favourite youths,
Unaw'd by shame, beneath the beechen shade, Nor wiles nor artificial coyness knew.
Then doors and walls were not; the melting maid Nor frowns of parents fear'd, nor husband's threats; Nor had curs'd gold their tender hearts allur'd : Then beauty was not venal. Injur'd love, O whither, god of raptures, art thou fled? While Avarice waves his golden wand around, Abhor'd magician! and his costly cup
Prepares with baneful drugs, to' enchant the souls Of each low-thoughted fair to wed for gain. In earth's first infancy (as sung the bard 5, Who strongly painted what he boldly thought) Though the fierce north oft smote with iron whip Their shivering limbs, though oft the bristly boar
Or hungry lion woke them with their howls, And scar'd them from their moss-grown caves to rove Houseless and cold in dark tempestuous nights; Yet were not myriads in embattled fields Swept off at once, nor had the raging seas O'erwhelm'd the foundering bark and shrieking In vain the glassy ocean smil'd to tempt The jolly sailor unsuspecting harm,
For commerce ne'er had spread her swelling sails, Nor had the wondering nereids ever heard
The dashing oar: then famine, want, and pain, Sunk to the grave their fainting limbs; Diseaseful dainties, riot and excess, And feverish luxury destroy. In brakes Or marshes wild, unknowingly they crop'd Herbs of malignant juice; to realms remote While we for powerful poisons madly roam, From every noxious herb collecting death. What though unknown to those primeval sires The well-arch'd dome, peopled with breathing forms By fair Italia's skilful hand, unknown The shapely column, and the crumbling busts Of awful ancestors in long descent?
Yet why should man mistaken, deem it nobler To dwell in palaces, and high-roof'd halls, Than in God's forests, architect supreme! Say, is the Persian carpet, than the field's Or meadow's mantle gay, more richly wov'n; Or softer to the votaries of ease
Than bladed grass perfum'd with dew-drop'd flow'rs? O taste corrupt! that luxury and pomp,
In specious names of polish'd manners veil'd, Should proudly banish Nature's simple charms! 6 Paradise Lost, Book xi.
All-beauteous Nature! by thy boundless charmş Oppress'd, O where shall I begin thy praise, Where turn the' ecstatic eye, how ease my breast That pants with wild astonishment and love! Dark forests, and the opening lawn, refresh'd With ever-gushing brooks, hill, meadow, dale, The balmy bean-field, the gay clover'd close, So sweetly interchang'd, the lowing ox, The playful lamb, the distant waterfall Now faintly heard, now swelling with the breeze; The sound of pastoral reed from hazel-bower, The choral birds, the neighing steed that snuffs His dappled mate, stung with intense desire; The ripen'd orchard when the ruddy orbs Betwixt the green leaves blush, the azure skies, The cheerful sun that through earth's vitals pours Delight and health and heat; all, all conspire, To raise, to soothe, to harmonize the mind, To lift on wings of praise, to the great Sire Of being and of beauty, at whose nod Creation started from the gloomy vault Of dreary Chaos, while the grisly king Murmur'd to feel his boisterous power confin'd. What are the lays of artful Addison,
Coldly correct, to Shakspeare's warblings wild? Whom on the winding Avon's willow'd banks Fair Fancy found, and bore the smiling babe? To a close cavern; (still the shepherds show The sacred place, whence with religious awe They hear, returning from the field at eve, Strange whisperings of sweet music through the air) Here, as with honey gather'd from the rock, She fed the little prattler, and with songs
7 Gray's Progress of Poesy.
Oft sooth'd his wondering ears; with deep delight, On her soft lap he sat, and caught the sounds. Oft near some crowded city would I walk, Listening the far-off noises, rattling cars, Loud shouts of joy, sad shrieks of sorrow, knells Full slowly tolling, instruments of trade, Striking mine ears with one deep-swelling hum. Or wandering near the sea, attend the sands Of hollow winds, and ever-beating waves, Ev'n when wild tempests swallow up the plains, And Boreas' blasts, big hail, and rains combine To shake the groves and mountains, would I sit, Pensively musing on the' outrageous crimes [hours, That wake Heaven's vengeance: at such solemn Demons and goblins through the dark air shriek, While Hecate, with her black-brow'd sisters nine, Rides o'er the earth, and scatters woes and death. Then too, they say, in drear Egyptian wilds The lion and the tiger prowl for prey With roarings loud! the listening traveller Starts fear-struck, while the hollow-echoing vaults Of pyramids increase the deathful sounds.
But let me never fail in cloudless nights, When silent Cynthia in her silver car
[hills, Through the blue concave slides, when shine the Twinkle the streanis, and woods look tip'd with gold, To seek some level mead, and there invoke Old Midnight's sister, Contemplation sage, (Queen of the rugged brow, and stern-fix'd eye) To lift my soul above this little earth, This folly-fetter'd world: to purge my ears, That I may hear the rolling planets' song, And tuneful turning spheres: if this be barr'd, The little fays that dance in neighbouring dales,
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