124

The Palace of Ice.

THE PALACE OF ICE.

-No forest fell,

Imperial mistress of the fur-clad Russ,

When thou wouldst build,-no quarry sent its

stores

T'enrich thy walls: but thou didst hew the floods,

And make thy marble of the glassy wave.
Silently as a dream the fabric rose ;

No sound of hammer or of saw was there :
Ice upon ice; the well adjusted parts

Were soon conjoin'd; nor other cement ask'd
Than water interfus'd to make them one.
Lamps gracefully dispos'd, and of all hues,
Illumin'd ev'ry side: a watʼry light

Gleam'd thro' the clear transparency that seem'd Another moon new-risen, or meteor fall'n From heav'n to earth, of harmless flame serene. So stood the brittle prodigy; tho' smooth And slipp'ry the materials, yet frost-bound Firm as a rock. Nor wanted ought within That royal residence might well befit,

For grandeur or for use. Long wavy wreaths

of flowers, that fear'd no enemy but warmth, Blush'd on the pannels. Mirror needed none Where all was glassy; but in order due Convivial table and commodious seat

(What seem'd at least commodious seat) were there,

Sofa, and couch, and high-built throne august. The same lubricity was found in all,

And all was moist to the warm touch; a scene Of evanescent glory, once a stream,

And soon to slide into a stream again.

COWPER,

LIBERTY.

O LIBERTY, thou goddess heav'nly bright,
Profuse of bliss, and pregnant with delight!
Eternal pleasures in thy presence reign,
And smiling Plenty leads thy wanton train;
Eas'd of her load, Subjection grows more light,
And Poverty looks cheerful at thy sight;
Thou mak'st the gloomy face of Nature gay,
Giv'st beauty to the sun, and pleasure to the day.
On foreign mountains may the sun refine
The grape's soft juice, and mellow it to wine;

126

Patriotism.-Cato.

With citron groves adorn a distant soil, And the fat olive swell with floods of oil : We envy not the warmer clime that lies In ten degrees of more indulgent skies : 'Tis Liberty that crowns Britannia's isle, And makes her barren rocks and her bleak mountains smile.

ADDISON.

PATRIOTISM.

BEYOND or love's or friendship's sacred band,
Beyond myself, I prize my native land;
On this foundation would I build my fame,
And emulate the Greek and Roman name;
Think England's peace bought cheaply with
my blood,

And die with pleasure for my country's good.

CATO.

ROWE.

-THOU hast seen mount Atlas:

While storms and tempests thunder on its brows, And ocean breaks its billows at its feet,

It stands unmov'd, and glories in its height. Such is that haughty man: his tow'ring soul, 'Midst all the shocks and injuries of Fortune, Rises superior, and looks down on Cæsar.

ADDISON.

E'EN when proud Cæsar 'midst triumphal cars,
The spoils of nations, and the pomp of wars,
Ignobly vain, and impotently great,
Show'd Rome her Cato's figure drawn in state;
As her dead father's rev'rend image pass'd,
The pomp was darken'd, and the day o'ercast.
The triumph ceas'd,—tears gush'd from ev'ry

eye,

The world's great victor pass'd unheeded by ; Her last good man dejected Rome ador'd, And honour'd Cæsar's less than Cato's sword. POPE.

FAME.

NOR Fame I slight, nor for her favours call,
She comes unlook'd for, if she comes at all.
But if the purchase costs so dear a price
As soothing folly, or exalting vice;

O! if the muse must flatter lawless sway, And follow still where Fortune leads the way; Or if no basis bear my rising name,

But the fall'n ruins of another's fame ;

Then teach me, Heav'n! to scorn the guilty bays,

Drive from my breast that wretched thirst of

praise;

Unblemish'd let me live, or die unknown,
O! grant an honest Fame, or grant me none!

РОРЕ.

SORROW.

BENEATH Some hoary mountain
I'll lay me down and weep,
Or near some warbling fountain
Bewail myself asleep;

Where feather'd choirs combining
With gentle murm'ring streams,
And winds in concert joining,
Raise sadly-pleasing dreams.

ADDISON.