k^r^ri^r ;■,:■- ■ I H '' : '" *> Hub M H ■ I ■i ■ ■ ■ : ■ fl 'Ml ■ 1 1 ■ ■ ■ ■ sSei HH i B I t 9 • % ♦* ^ / EPISTLES TO A FRIEND IN TOWN, GOLCONDA'S FETE, AND OTHER POEMS. CHANDOS LEIGH, Esq. NEW EDITION, WITH ADDITIONS. LONDON: HENRY COLBURN AND RICHARD BENTLEY. NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 1831 LONDON : PRINTED BY SAMUU BENTLLY. Dorset Street, Fleet Street. TO SIR JOHN THOMAS CLARIDGE, OF THE MIDDLE TEMPLE; THE FOLLOWING POEMS ARE INSCRIBED, BY HIS SINCERE AND AFFECTIONATE FRIEND. CHANDOS LEIGH CONTENTS. Page First Epistle to a Friend in Town 3 Second Epistle to a Friend in Town .... 17 Third Epistle to a Friend in Town . . . . 37 Fourth Epistle to a Friend in Town . . . 52 Notes 83 The Queen of Golconda's Fete 109 Notes 119 The View 123 Notes 149 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Invitation to the Banks of the Avon .... 157 Ode on the Death of the Princess Charlotte . . 162 Lines to the Memory of Canova 168 VI CONTEXTS. Page Verses on Napoleon Buonaparte .... 173 On the Death of a Friend 176 Written in an Album at Chamouni . . . 178 To my Infant Child 179 To the Memory of Collins 181 Nothing 183 Verses written in Stoneleigh Park .... 185 Lines written at Rome • . 187 To the Rev. \V. W. on the Birthday of his Daughter . 189 Dives Loquitur . - . . . . . . 190 Lines written on seeing the Bodies of two Beautiful Women, cast away near Milford . . . . 193 True Love 195 England 197 Notes 202 Steephill ......... 204 Extemporaneous Lines 206* Pseudo- Patriotism 208 Stanzas addressed to the Sea ..... 209 Verses to Bernard Barton 216 Willersley 218 Vittoria Colonna 222 Notes 225 Salerno 229 Notes 233 Song ........•• 236 Addressed to my little Girl . . . . . 238 CONTENTS, 1 Vll POEMS WRITTEN IN EARLY YOUTH. Page A Fragment . 243 Verses on leaving Harrow School . ... 246 To my Sister on her Birthday .... 250 Verses on the Death of General Fitzpatrick . . 253 The Deserted Friend ..... 255 On Kenilworth Castle .... 259 Offa, King of Mercia . . . . .261 The World as it is . . . . . 263 Notes ....... 26/ Rosamond, a Fragment .... 268 Brutus • . . . . . .271 On the Death of Rosa ..... 273 Verses in Commemoration of the Second Centenary of Shakspeare . . , . . .275 A Character . . . . . 279 The absent Poet to his Mistress . . . .282 The Death of Hossein .... 286 Verses on the Death of the Right Hon. Richard Brinsley Sheridan . . . . . .291 An Evening in Cuba ..... 293 The Lament of Altamont .... 294 Note ....... 299 Freedom ...... 300 The Storm ...... 302 The Song of Nouzonihar .... 303 To the Lady .... 305 Vlll CONTEXTS. Page Kecollections at . 306 Note . . . . . 311 Address to my Cigar . . . . .312 The Wood-Nymph ..... 314 Written on a fine Morning • .315 Believe me, she is true indeed . . . 318 Verses on Hawthornden .... 320 Note . . . . 321 Perfectibility . . . . 322 A Sea View ... .327 To a Lark . . . . .328 FOUR EPISTLES TO A FRIEND IN TOWN. It is in our power (Unless we fear that apes can tutor us) to Ee masters of our manners. What need I Affect another's gait, or be fond of Another's way of speech, when by mine own I may be reasonably conceived % * * * * * * Why am I bound By any generous bond to follow him [who] Follows his tailor, haply so long, until The follow'd make pursuit? Or let me know, Why mine own barber is unbless'd, (with him My poor chin too,) for it 's not scissor'd just To such a favourite's glass? Shakspeare and Fletcher's Two Noble Kinsmen. FIRST EPISTLE A FRIEND IN TOWN, B 2 non tibi parvum Iiigeniura non incultum est et turpiter hirtum, Seu linguam causis acuis, seu civica jura Respondere paras, seu condis amabile carmen. HORAT, TO A FRIEND IN TOWN. How many years are gone since first we met In Town ! the day is well remember' d yet ; Thou, a Young Templar, panting for renown, Myself the veriest Idler on the Town. Yet some few moments thou from toil could'st spare, To toast in wine-cups that o'erflow'd, the fair. Ah ! little deem'd I then, that I should love Elsewhere than in the Poet's lays — a grove. " The sober certainty of waking bliss " Is what I now enjoy, and truly this. Though vex'd with head-aches, yet when free from pain Give me a novel, and I laugh at rain. 6 FIRST EPISTLE Who would with Richardson or Fielding part. That loves to trace the workings of the heart ? Few can excite the intellectual smile Like them, or dissipate November's bile. Books have their charms, society has more : Life for the wise has numerous joys in store. The wise ne'er feel the languor of ennui, Nor care how Whig and Tory disagree. But every hour is well enjoy' d by those Who thus alternate labour and repose - . Their farms, their gardens, ask a constant care : With them the Sabbath is a day of prayer. Then for amusement how they love t' explore The woods, or down the river ply the oar, When that the bright-hair'd sun, with mellow'd glow, Pours his full splendour on the fields below. What though the evening promises no play ? Though " heavily in clouds rolls on the day?" TO A FRIEND IN TOWN. The laugh, the song, the sports that intervene, (Home-felt delights,) must quickly banish spleen. How blest are they whose days thus glide away ! Even in old age they scarcely feel decay ; Vigorous in mind, and cheerful to the last, With calm contentment they review the past. Are such men Idlers ? Idlers we are all ; The merits of the active are but small. Yet they are useful too, and happier far Than those who through the day wage wordy war, Then dine, just reeking from the crowded court, On tough beefsteaks, cold soup, and tavern port. Can the poor head contain what it is now Expedient for a Gentleman to know ? Though through the circle of the arts we run, (Thanks to Reviews) we can remember none. The Lawyer throws aside his book, ami burns To be a Davy and a Smith by turns ; His clients suffer, yet where'er he dines, Chemist, or Bard, the learned Proteus shines. 8 FIRST EPISTLE Society improves ; the times require Some little knowledge in a country squire ; And book clubs, through the country widely spread, Shew that at least our modern works are read. The most inveterate sportsman now may speak French and Italian, nay, can construe Greek. A fire-side voyager from shore to shore, He loves not in his easy chair to snore, All can talk politics, no matter how : The witty and the dull, the high and low. But few, (which is the test of taste,) can quote Aptly a line, or tell an anecdote. Few can converse, with unaffected ease, Or like a Ward, or like a Canning please. Our country neighbours something more can say Than " Row dye do ?" and " Tis a lovely day ;" TO A FRIEND IN TOWN. I 've heard from them what in reputed wits Would be considered very pretty hits. A bel esprit in France, and Britain 's known, But England calls the humorous man her own ; Yet " masters of the joke," who have a name, Often say things unworthy of their fame. No dun's loud voice, nor newsman's louder horn, Here scare you from your slumbers light at morn : No loungers here at one, assail your door. To kill their time by wasting your's till four : To them 'tis all the same what themes engage Their minds, a death perchance, or equipage. 'Tis hard to say who greater ills endure, The listless rich, or the o'erlabouring poor. Indolence sits a night-mare on the breast; Through the whole day her victims cannot rest. Since man was never born to live alone, How can he be that wretched thing — a drone ! 10 FIRST EPISTLE A country-life is tame ! Who says 'tis so ? The muck-worm cit, or butterfly-like beau ; Or some fair Exquisite whose mind is fraught With maxims by the Queen of Fashion taught ? " Would you be fashionable, you must weed Your company, my dear, you must indeed. Those who give balls ask first Exclusives ; then As you would choose your pinks select your men. Let not a swarm of country-folks appear To greet you with a cordial welcome, dear ; Such you must cut at once. — It is not worth, Nor wit, nor talent, no nor even birth That gives the ton ; 'tis something you will find At Almack's — 'tis — it cannot be defined. Remember you may always turn aside As if by accident, and not through pride, When those approach you whom you should not know, Or be short-sighted, or at least seem so. Let none but titled names your parties boast, ook divinely in the Morning Post. TO A FRIEND IN TOWN. 11 Though Dowagers may old and ugly be, They blaze in diamonds, are of high degree ; Though noble Dandies look like gay baboons, Their stars shine lustrous through our grand saloons : How sweet it is to listen to the prate Of some young lordling, pillar of the state ! Who, quite the fashion, to a favour'd few Speaks, then be thankful if he talks to you." You laugh at this would-be satiric strain ; Well then I '11 read my Blackstone o'er again, And talk about a " fine," or a " release," And dare to be a Justice of the Peace. Yet, my good friend, though nothing has a sale But a high novel, or a bravo's tale, Or memoirs, written by some scribbling thing, That bites a bard, as gnats a lion sting — I 've dared to write ; no moralist will curse, Though few, perchance, can praise this sober verse. While well-fed Codrus dedicates his rhymes To his kind patron, shall we blame the times ? 12 FIRST EPISTLE How generous that Maecenas is, who gives His gold, and lauded in a preface lives ! Some with subscriptions love to make a show ; Tis right the world their charities should know ; Their spring of action 's selfishness; what then? Their names, perchance, may influence other men. Better write songs, or simper at a ball. Than like a youthful Timon lose your all. Some care not how they trifle life away ; A hero wept if he but lost a day ! The ruin'd master of a vast estate Finds he had time for hazard when too late. What then is wealth, if boundless be our wants ? How few can well employ what fortune grants ! One buys a borough, and corrupts the poor ; Another opes to every knave his door. If there be virtues in this world, they thrive Far from those open halls where lordlings live. Enslaved to thousands, while he seems their god, The generous fool for self prepares the rod. TO A FRIEND IN TOWN. 13 All lash him — why? because he fondly deem'd That they, vain boasters ! were the men they seem'd. Cethegus shines alike with talents rare, Or in St. Giles's, or in Grosvenor-square : ( a ) So versatile in all things, he must please, Who thus to pleasure sacrifices ease. Lucullus to a boor, within the week, Sells gems, and goblets of the true antique. Who then would be Lucullus, thus to lose All that a polish! d taste taught him to choose ? Is Gracchus happy, as around him throng The rabble, who applaud him right or wrong ? No : when the conquest is so mean, indeed, He feels no triumph, where he must succeed. Great wits and statesmen grace Moreri's page ; Who else records these wonders of their age ! Since fame is so uncertain, shall we say That splendid follies live beyond their day ? 14 FIRST EPISTLE Each has the beau ideal in his mind Of pleasure ; that is coarse, this more refined : Talk not to me, says Florio, of delights The country has ; give me the view from White's. What is more lovely on a summer's day Than charms which beauteous women then display ? Dearer to many is the gay saloon At Covent Garden, than the full-orb'd moon. These, as they view the immortal lights on high, For Vauxhall's artificial splendours sigh. So strange is taste, that some do not disdain To breathe the wholesome air of Maiden-lane, ( b ) Where, by the smoking conclave, they are prized, And sometimes pass for characters disguised. At clubs and auctions Florio may contrive Through a wet day, by rising late, to live ; Give him at night but turtle and champagne, He might exist through the same day again. Life must indeed to such strange beings seem, Or a fool's Paradise, or drunkard's dream : TO A FRIEND IN TOWN. 15 The spirits o'er-excited, soon will fail, Then all is dull, unprofitable, stale ; Nor Ude's best fare, ( c ) nor wines, though very choice. Nor social songs, can make the heart rejoice. Poor Foppington ! but yesterday the pride Of ball-rooms, is by fashion thrown aside. Another is adored, why, none can tell : Yet must another be forgot as well. This is indeed the common lot of all Whom vain ambition prompts to ride the ball, Wharton, a great Corinthian in his day, (Pope gives his character) was somewhat gay. Loved to see life, ambitious of a name : Compared with his e'en Egcms sports are tame. ( d ) 'Tis pity that such revellers should die, They are so useful to society. Most glorious is the spring-time of the year How freshly green the woods, the vales appear ! 16 FIRST EPISTLE. " Flowers of all hue" the splendid meads adorn ; With blossoms white, how fragrant is the thorn ! And Heaven gives glimpses of itself by land, By sea, fine fragments show the master-hand. When Nature 's clothed in such a varied dress, Shall man presume to scorn her loveliness ? Slight the rich banquet that she bids him taste, And fortune's gifts in chase of follies waste ? The circle of enjoyment comprehends Wife, children, books, a few warm-hearted friends Man may with these contented be, and spurn Those nothings, after which his neighbours yearn. SECOND EPISTLE TO A FRIEND IN TOWN. I account a person who has a moderate mind and fortune, and lives in the conversation of two or three agreeable friends, with little commerce in the world besides ; who is esteemed well enough by his few neighbours that know him, and is truly irreproachable by any body ; and so, after a health- ful quiet life, before the great inconveniences of old age, goes silently out of it ; this innocent deceiver of the world, as Horace calls him, this " muta persona/* I take to have been more happy in his part, than the greatest actors that fill the stage with show and noise ; nay, even "than Augustus himself, who asked, with his last breath, whether he had not played his farce very well. — Cowley. TO THE SAME. Shall I, while serious duties must engage My mind, write on in this most rhyming age ? Wilt thou, with clients crowding at thy door, Consent to be poetical, and poor ? Yet let me snatch, my friend, one hour away From fashion's vain impertinence to-day, From the dull forms of business, and its cares, That close around me like the fowler's snares — And I '11 ne'er trifle with the Muse again : Read but these plain lines from an honest pen. Some men there are, thank Heaven but very few, Who will condemn whate'er you say or do ; c 2 20 SECOND EPISTLE They, with ingenious malice, draw forth evil From sermons I such are children of the devil ! One writes a song ; should it appear in print, The generous Bavius says, " there 's danger in V Another cheers an else heart-broken bard ; " Let the vain fool his parasite reward," Kind Zoilus exclaims ; Who then escapes ? None, when foul Envy thus her comment shapes. Yet will my mind fly backwards to the time When, great indeed my fault, I learn'd to rhyme : "When every day gave birth to schemes, that soon Pass'd rapidly away, like dreams at noon ; To plans, that might have suited fairyland, But fleeting here, as figures drawn in sand ! How often have we studied Gibbon's page ! How often glow'd with Burke ; prophetic sage ! Those intellectual giants, such in truth They were, with splendid periods charm'd our youth. TO A FRIEND IN TOWN. 21 Oft have we sought the theatre ; and felt That then, embodied there, Rome's genius dwelt, When Kemble, like the god-like hero, shone ( a ) Among inferior lights, a sun alone ! Adored by thousands, such his happy lot — He was but yesterday ; and now — forgot ! Thus as old Time turns round his wheel, uprise, And fast descend, the mighty and the wise ! A few eulogiums in the journals tell How wise they were, how mighty, then — farewell ! He whom variety delights, would find All that must please him in Statira's mind ! Where various qualities are sweetly blent, Candour with cunning, sense with sentiment. Look in her face, a devil lurketh there, That in her eye-glance seems to say — " Beware I" How often have we prattled round her board, With would-be Authors, and a gentle Lord ! 22 SECOND EPISTLE Great was her love of patronage and state ; We praised her talents, and her show of plate. But times are alter' d : in this world of woe Realities demand exertion now. We are not what we were ; that burning zeal For books, and pleasures, we no longer feel : Fancy has now withdrawn her high-wrought veil From our fond gaze, and sober thoughts prevail ; And what has pleased in boyhood now appears Vain, as comes on the noon-time of our years. All was romantic, if it be romance, To float upon the changing stream of chance. Let Cocker's useful volume supersede The metaphysic tomes of Stewart or Reid. But 'tis indeed a pain, (though Interest seems To bid me scorn unprofitable themes,) While the old bards adorn my shelves, to quit At once their world of poetry and wit ! ( b ) TO A FRIEND IN TOWN. 23 Where the dense yellow fog o'erhangs the Thames, The sage ? great Coke, thy close attention claims ; Yet wilt thou seize, at intervals of time, On Byron's Lara— Cowper's Task sublime ! The mind is healthy, that to works like these, Amid the toil of thought, can turn with ease. Content, thou hast eight hundred pounds a-year, Books, and, far better still, a conscience clear ; Thou dost not feel, what squires have felt, distress, When their rents fail, and mortgages oppress ! Debts, taxes, and annuities might make The proudest landlord for his acres quake ! Like Machiavel in politics, thou art ( c ) A Tory, or a Radical at heart ! Rejoicing oft to see how Whigs are hit Now by John Bull's, and now by Cobbett's wit. Yet politics are but ephemeral things ; ( d ) Kings, though the world's progressive, will be kings : 24 SECOND EPISTLE Statesmen are statesmen still — the mob will roar, ( e ) And be what Wilkes has been before ! Say, dost thou seek the Caledonian squeeze, Where few can stand, and fewer sit with ease ? Where Irving's glowing oratory shows The skeleton at least of Taylor's prose ! ( f ) Or, blest with better taste, wilt thou not hear Andrews, as eloquent, and far more clear ? Then, at a brother lawyer's country seat, In social converse find a sabbath treat ? As magic lanthorns throw along the wall Forms of gigantic shape, yet shadows all, In florid self-importance thus the vain Burst on our sight — then shrink to nought again. Their well-known faces haunt me where I walk, And oh ! how wearisome their well-known talk ! Yet such are men ; though reason, 'tis confest, Illumes their minds with scatter'd rays at best : TO A FRIEND IN TOWN. 25 Such have immortal spirits I which must be Happy, or wretched, through eternity ! Go, triflers, tread Love's flowery path ; but know Ye burn with daemons, or with seraphs glow ! Oft have we laugh'd at (for in truth we 've seen The world) their civil smiles that nothing mean ; Their dolorous looks, whene'er they seem'd to grieve ; And can such poor dissemblers e'er deceive ? Give me the man, who, if at times he err, At least shows something like a character ! Who can consult his heart, as well as head ; Nor waits to ask if feeling be well bred ! Some have the wealth of Ind, are strange, are proud, And scorn to hold communion with the crowd. But fortune frowns ; the smiling auctioneer Bids gold and pearls barbaric disappear. Philips will sell their books, where underwrit Notes tersely pencill'd show sententious wit. ( s ) 26 SECOND EPISTLE Philips will sell their gewgaws, that amaze ( h ) Women and rustics with their gorgeous blaze. But such superfluous vanities can ne'er Delight thy mind, be they or rich, or rare. Soon, very soon, life's little day is past ; No works, but those of charity, will last. Nor Byron's verse, nor Beckford's pomp can save Vathek, or Harold, from their destined grave ! And what is wealth ? with equal hand 'tis given To bad, to good — no proof of favouring Heaven ! And who is rich ? Erailius, whose good sense Protects him from the glare of vain expense. Who buys not glittering toys when very dear, (*) But treats his friends with hospitable cheer — Who loves to breathe the incense of the morn, ( k ) As the sun's golden rays his hills adorn ; Deeming more beautiful the sky's young bloom, Than all the splendours of a drawing-room — And meditates, as warmly glows his blood, How best he might promote his country's good. TO A FRIEND IN TOWN. 27 He can be happy though his neighbours thrive ; Nor thinks himself the poorest man alive. But few are like Emilius, few can feel For aught, save their own sordid selves, a zeal. Trebatius like a man of honour deals ; He only keeps your purse, he never steals. His honour is so clear, you must not doubt it ; " He talks about it, Goddess, and about it." Wearied with mystery, and sick of prate, (Yet unconvinced) you trust the man you hate. Simplicity is like a flowery wreath, Though beautiful, a serpent lurks beneath ! Good Simon Pure in look, in voice a child, Will circumvent a Jew — though very mild. Burke says ambition is too bold a vice ( ] ) For many ; true : not so with avarice. The meanest passion has the strongest hold On human hearts, the cursed lust of gold. 28 SECOND EPISTLE You judge, if rightly read in Nature's book, Of beasts, by what in men deceive, the look : The fox's craft, the slyness of a cat, Are outwardly express'd by this and that. Crispus with studied negligence will speak ; ( m ) Yet knows right well his neighbour's side that 's weak ; And while his words are out at random thrown, Notes yours upon his memoes tablet down. The most experienced oft will fail to trace The lines of cunning in his ruddy face : Yet, watch it narrowly, you see the smile Betrays, what laughter may conceal, his guile. Lives there the man who does not condescend To notice, if he be distress'd, a friend ? Such man within the Town perchance may dwell, (More fit to be a denizen of Hell,) But in the Country may not shew his face ; Our lands are cursed not with so vile a race. TO A FRIEND IN TOWN. 29 Experience, sole correctress of the young Who to reeds shaken by the wind have clung — False hopes, false friends, false pleasures — 'tis by thee, Our souls are arm'd against duplicity. Give him one year, the youth by passion fired, May lose whate'er his father has acquired ! Whate'er he gain'd by forethought, or by toil, May in one night become the sharper's spoil. Why does Eugenio love to live by rule ? He aims to be the first in Jackson's school ; Yet like himself, perchance, Eugenio's sire Liked a beefsteak that just had see?i the fire ! 'Twas love of exercise — 'tis love of fame, Their ends were varied, but their means the same. Sick of amusements that come o'er and o'er, The chace, the dance, the drama, and the moor, 30 SECOND EPISTLE Hilario quits fair England, restless still. He follows pleasure's shade, and ever will ; Till to some " high-viced" city drawing close, It leaves him idle, but without repose. Hilario stakes his goods, among the rest A ring — it was a dying friend's bequest ! This dear memorial of a dying friend Adorns a strumpet's finger in the end. Lucilius courts the great ; he *d rather be Their slave, than live among his equals free. Yet will he notice these, whene'er they meet Elsewhere, than in a fashionable street. Yet some there are who scorn, how very odd, This lordling's humble servant's friendly nod. Vain, demi-deified by flattering self, Young Claudius cries — " All women want my pelf!' Some, dazzled with exterior show, adore The golden calf, like wayward Jews of yore. TO A FRIEND IN TOWN. 31 Yet is the fool so fine — he dares to scorn The highly-gifted, beautiful, high-born ! Till from his fancied eminence he 's hurl'd By lawless love — a by- word in the world ! Or to a wanton, or another's wife Wedded, for ever with his spouse at strife. Extreme in every thing, Petronius pants To be a chosen one, and humbly cants ! What are humility and cant allied ? Humility is virtue, cant is pride ! The words of dying Addison, " Be good," Though easy, are by few well understood. Florus, whose wit may grace to-morrow's feast, Is low to-day ; the wind is in the East. Or deems he that at thirty though he sing And jest, a jester 's but a trifling thing ? The mind " that 's sicklied o'er with the pale cast Of thought," intensely ponders o'er the past ! 32 SECOND EPISTLE Each act, however fair in youth's gay prime, Changes its hues, and darkens into crime. Each lighter jest, in strong remembrance set, Adds something to the stores of vain regret. E'en Atticus, whose mind is blest with taste, Lets, when alone, his talents run to waste. The standard of his taste is high indeed ; Few are the books he condescends to read ! He bears with Dryden's prose, or Campbell's verse. Such delicate feeling almost is a curse. What is thy boasted knowledge, man of thought ? What are thy fancy's meteor-flashes ? — nought — If but a passing cloud that glooms the sky Can stupify thy brain, or dull thine eye. Slave to the breeze, the sunshine, and the shower, Thou art in sooth a transitory flower ! There 's Heaven in mere existence ; then ag;am If clouds be lowering, fortune smiles in vain : TO A FRIEND IN TOWN. 33 The dull cold morn which doubtful lights illume, Casts o'er the mind its harmonizing gloom. " Poor human Nature !" bending over Pope, His friend exclaim'd — but where was St. John's hope ? He saw the poet ghastly, weak, and thin ! But saw not the immortal soul within ! The soul, that like an eagle soars among The bright existences, the souls of song ; They, with intuitive glance, at once see through Worlds, which on earth we vainly strive to view. On the rough ocean of existence tost, Here contemplation is in action lost. Had we but time to speculate, how strange Would all appear within the mind's wide range ; Ourselves — our nature — what th' Almighty power Wills us to be — when past death's awful hour ! Our thoughts are vague when they attempt to pass Beyond the boundaries of is and vjcls. 34 SECOND EPISTLE How .very small must seem, whene'er we think, In being's endless chain this earthly link ! To-day, and yesterday ! these words imply Life has its constant labours, 'till we die. Then may our souls, upspringing from the dust, Live with the spirits of the good and just ! Is there a spot of sunshine to be found In life's dark valley ? yes — 'tis holy ground ! 'Tis where Religion sheds a sober beam, As fell on Gideon's fleece the blessed stream ! " Bask in the sun of pleasure while you can ; Life's summer soon is fled: then what is man !" Unapt illusion ! as our years increase, The mind gains strength, the storms of passion cease ! The informing spirit then, that never dies, Gives promise of those godlike energies That it will exercise without decay, In other worlds, when this shall pass away. TO A FRIEND IN TOWN. 35 Let us then fondly hope that they, whose worth Rivafl'd the virtues of the best on earth, They, in whose hearts angels rejoiced to find The fear of God, the love of all mankind, They whom we loved, for whom, alas ! we shed The fruitless tear, since they to us are dead, Will live for ever with us in the sight Of that immortal One who dwells in light, Throned inaccessible ; we learn to brave, Arm'd with this hope, the terrors of the grave. d2 THIRD EPISTLE TO A FRIEND IN TOWN. This is a beautiful life now ! Privacy, The sweetness and the benefit of essence. I see there 's no man but may make his paradise ; And it is nothing but his love and dotage Upon the world's foul joye, that keeps him out on't. Fletcher's Xice Valour, Act v. Scene 2. TO THE SAME, This day, that shone most glorious from its birth, Is like a glimpse of Heaven as caught from earth. Here oft in silence have we loved to gaze On sylvan wonders, far above our praise. Our thoughts are fresh, as is the early dew In our life's morn ; oh ! were they always new, Earth would be Paradise ; but soon they lose Their freshness, and grow stale by frequent use. Those varied fancies, that when we are young Please us, remain through want of art unsung ; When Art might teach us duly to express Their charms, alas ! we feel and know them less. 40 THIRD EPISTLE The noblest landscape that e'er bless'd the sight, Day after day beheld, scarce gives delight. That, which we now mis-name a trifling toy, Once kindled in our hearts a flame of joy ! As the sky's brilliant hues at close of day Melt down into an undistinguish'd grey — Thus the changed mind (its lively colours past) Wears the dull livery of the world at last. E'en Pamphilus, in whose young bosom dwelt A love of all that 's beautiful, who felt That Nature, ever present, where he roved, Clung closely to his heart, a Nymph beloved ; Now views, unheeding, emerald vales and floods And, in repose magnificent, the woods. Yet better this, than an o'eracted zeal For rural beauties, which you do not feel. Urbanus is in raptures, when he sees, Since rudeness is a crime, his Patron's trees ; TO A FRIEND IN TOWN. 41 Urbanus deems not what he sees, divine ; But 'tis polite to shout at times " How fine !" This feign'd enthusiast with his words may cheat The vain possessor of a country seat ! But has Urbanus view'd the clouds that flush Around a summer's sky, the morning's blush ; And felt, when quite alone, the deep, deep sense Of beauty inexpress'd, not less intense, When all sensations of delight are thrown Into a heavenward gratitude alone ? Pleasures like this are passionless, and give A lesson to us for what ends we live. They show the soul's high origin, though worn By care, and oh ! predict that glorious morn, When life, and light, and love, the trinal beam, ( a ) Shall flow upon the good in endless stream. A lute, a gentle voice, or summer skies, All in their turn wake kindred sympathies ; 42 THIRD EPISTLE Though few, like Sylvius, love to waste their hours Courting romantic thoughts in tangled bowers, 'Till loathing social duties he misdeems Himself a spirit in a world of dreams, — Yet will meek evening to the coldest heart A sober glow of happiness impart ; Sweet promise this, of pleasures yet to come ; Showing that earth is not our proper home. This nature teaches to that being call' d " Man of the world," or man by art enthrall'd, With the thin gloss of fashion smoothing o'er His real character, like thousands more ! So mild, his manners are to all the same ; Stranger or Friend alike, attention claim* Now Flavius lingers in the town alone ; The pride and pomp of which, alas, are gone. The mean young man will condescend to seek A rural Bashaw's seat ; but for a week : Th' indignant Landlord scorns, as well he might, The proffer'd honour, as he scorn'd the slight TO A FRIEND IN TOWN. 43 Which Flavius show'd him, when, among the crowd Of worldlings, walk'd the coxcomb poor and proud. All pride is littleness — but very low The pride which unpaid tailors can bestow I The bigot for his narrow creed may have Some reason, but a fool is fashion's slave, Who, for a name's equivocal renown, Would the best feelings of the heart disown. Let brother trhiers damn him as half-bred, The charms of this much-boasted name are fled : A word from fashion's high-priest, — sacred thing, Will clip at once the young aspirant's wing. Unhappy youth ! whom fortune thus beguiles ; The lovely Peeress passes by, nor smiles. The title " Exquisite" acquired with pain, Like that of " Champion," is a doubtful gain. The youth whose heart, replete with kindness, loved The world, whose generous acts that world approved ; When all was new, and fancy gave a gloss To life's realities that are but dross — 44 THIRD EPISTLE In manhood, should his sanguine hopes be crost, Is chill'd by apathy's unyielding frost ; Save when arise some sudden gusts of spleen, You scarce would guess that he had active been. Dreary will be life's eve to Sporus soon, The black cloud of contempt o'erhangs his noon. One moment's gaze on such a scene as this, Is worth whole years of artificial bliss. When the sun gilds with his declining rays The castle, fam'd in great Eliza's days, I love to linger near its ruin'd walls, Where ivy clusters, or luxuriant falls : Then in my mind are suddenly revived ( b ) The days, when Sidney, " flower of knighthood," lived. That stainless hero ! a propitious star In peace ; a splendid meteor in the war. Th' unwearied light of valour on his crest Shone, while in royal halls he look'd the best TO A FRIEND IN TOWN. 43 Such noble spirits to a higher sphere Belong, and, ere we know them, disappear ! Now the calm sunset gives a mellow grace To the vast pile ; what pleasure 'tis to trace The shadows of past greatness ! not a sound Is heard, while twilight gently steals around. Here time appears resistless ; but my soul Says that one Power can time itself controul : The Power that hath reveal' d, the promise sure, That now, one boundless present, shall endure. ( c ) But what are works upraised by human skill ? Mere toys, Pride's splendid playthings, if you will. — Nature, more prodigal, has always been Most lavish of her treasures, where unseen. She, in vast solitudes delights to show That without man's vain aid her nurslings grow A Giant brood ; for there mimosas rise, And the columnar cactus towers unto the skies ; ( d ) There vallies look like worlds, o'er which the vast Forests their shades interminably cast ! 46 THIRD EPISTLE Where all is great, shall not man's heart expand, Enlarging with the grandeur of the land ? There as the mind upsprings, from custom freed It scorns the courtier's fashionable creed, Knowing itself how mean, in Pride's abode, How comprehensive, 'mong the works of God. The worst and best of passions there, the lust Of wealth, the love of glory give disgust, And thought illimitable there would fain The wisdom of earth's wisest sons disdain. Eumolpus, child of Genius he, was made To live in the sun, and yet, would seek the shade ! Thou dost remember well his fine dark eye, Where shone enthroned the soul of Poesy ; His voice that, silver-toned, fit channel seem'd For flow of wit with which his fancy teem'd ; His eloquent discourse now light, now full Of thoughts profound and rare, but never dull. Spite of these brilliant qualities that warm The heart, and give to social life a charm, — TO A FRIEND IN TOWN. 47 This gifted being, to the haunts of men ( e ) Preferr'd the mountain's height, or lonely glen. But Psittacus the bard, aspires to move Among the rich and great, to court their love. He labours every day to feel the effect Of writing well, and trembles at neglect. One might his highly-polish'd wit compare ( f ) To the snow-diamond beautiful and rare : He knows indeed its worth ; for every word He asks the homage of the social board. And while his sayings sparkle, Fame forbid Their light should be beneath a bushel hid. But though his Muse, in verse a very saint, The beauties of a rural life can paint ; She ne'er with Nature's self communion held, But felt that Power her energies had quell'd ! How few, while with their fellow-men they mix, Write what they may, on Heaven their thoughts will fix ! Affections, small, but strong in union, bind With many threads to earth the giant mind : 48 THIRD EPISTLE Care clouds its sight ; wild passions then assail The soul, and 'gainst its nobler will prevail : And while man strays through Pleasure's flowery path, Bursts on his head the vial of God's wrath ! Yet praise is dear to all — the world's, alas, ( g ) (As wet and dry affect the weather-glass) Or given or withheld can raise or sink The spirits, 'tis for that we act and think. For that young Drusus, falling from his rank, Into a wandering, would-be Roscius sank ; For that Patricius would, a fruitless toil, Enrich with German flowers his English soil ; E'en from his loved retreat the rural Bard Seeks in the world's approval his reward. Where's the Recluse who, though it loudly strikes His ear, the grateful voice of fame dislikes ? Thus rise from Rousseau's genius that illumes The shrine of Nature, vanity's rank fumes. The worshippers of glory? though sublime Their maxims, are but great in prose and rhyme. TO A FRIEND IN TOWN. 49 So weak is man, that when upraised at most. The mind a partial flight can only boast : Soon with a flagging wing 'twill stoop, and creep Along the ground — Hear this, ye vain, and weep ! Antimachus (since such a name the muse ( h ) Reluctant for the wayward youth must choose) Writes like an angel, but his actions stain The else unsullied offspring of his brain. He seems in contrarieties to take Delight, at once Philosopher and Rake. What Casuist dares affirm 'twixt good and bad That aught like compromise can e'er be had, Though many characters, so wills it strife, Preserve no keeping on the stage of life ? The sentimentalist to-day will quaff Bumpers of wine, to-morrow jest and laugh. Morecraft the usurer will e'en unbend, And give a dinner to his pigeon'd Friend. Mind has its lights and shadows, that to please, Into each other melt by slow degrees : 50 THIRD EPISTLE But with alternate colours dark and bright, (*) The glaring contrast shocks the moral sight. Strange inconsistencies will show that all The wisest feel the curse of Adam's fall. Good God ! Marcellus by the gay and grave Approved, became the vilest passion's slave ; Pure were his thoughts in boyhood, modest sense Adorn'd a mind that hated all pretence. Poor fallen youth, how changed ! thou lately wast Thy country's pride ; but now — the world's outcast. Oh may swift vengeance hurl its lightnings down On their base heads by whom this youth's o'erthrown! Pass we this theme — the subject will involve A knotty question which no Bard can solve : Why should this man, since Virtue "with his growth Grew," be at once the worthless thing we loath ? Bad spirits ever vigilant will glide Into the heart's recess, and there abide ; Expelling the fair forms of Love and Truth, Though beautiful, but transient guests in sooth. TO A FRIEND IN TOWN. 51 Alciphron opens Nature's Book, and reads That there's a God, as visible in weeds As worlds ; and yet the sceptic is perplex'd ; With "qualities," and "modes," and "substance," vex'd. Words vague in meaning chill his holy zeal, And counteract what he must see and feel. Is he in danger? then he will adore God, and forget the quibbling sophist's lore. Conscience will dissipate the mists that cloud Thoughts, very weak indeed, when very proud. Thus the presumptuous intellect of man Passes its bounds, but ends where it began. While Heaven pours forth varieties of light In beautiful profusion ; what delight It is to view the woodlands, lawns between : Brief joy perchance ! soon clouds may supervene, Deepening their shadows o'er the woods that now With an intensity of radiance glow. e2 52 THIRD EPISTLE. That Joy is like a moment's sunshine, gone Ere you can feel it, we have often known : But Friendship is a plant that will outlast The gusts of care, or Sorrow's wintry blast. Then may'st thou see, my Friend, a good old age ; Happy as Demon ax, and quite as sage. ( k ) And when her mild farewell to life is given, May Angel Faith direct thy soul to Heaven t FOURTH EPISTLE TO A FRIEND IN TOWN. May it please your Lordship to withdraw yourself Unto this neighbouring grove, there shall you hear How the sweet treble of the chirping birds, And the soft stirring of the moved leaves, Running delightful descant to the sound Of the base murmuring of the bubbling brook, Become a concert of good instruments: While twenty babbling echoes round about Out of the stony concave of their mouths Restore the vanish'd music of each close, And nil your ears full with redoubled pleasure. Lingua.— Old Play. TO THE SAME, The golden morn of youth is gone, and man Reaches his noon of life without a plan : As snow falls softly on the mountains height, Time passes by : 'tis scarcely eve, 'tis night : Though whispers oft the still small voice within, To waste, or misapply thy time, is sin. Yet it is pleasant here to gaze away In sweet forgetfulness of cares the day, The long long summer's day ; while flowers exhale Their fragrance borne along the western gale, 56 FOURTH EPISTLE That o'er our Avon's bosom gently breathes, Till in the sun her " crisped smiles" she wreathes ; ( a ) Or glory in that sun, till thought elate Would o'er the horizon round its orb dilate ; Or trace resemblance to that monarch proud Of xllps, Mont Blanc, in some high-towering cloud ; Or wander lonely through the solemn grove With every feeling hush'd, save that of love, Love of a Being who is evermore All that a grateful spirit must adore ! As clouds along the stream in varied hues Their lovely shadows rapidly diffuse ; So o'er life's current changeful Fancy glides, In shapes swift-flitting o'er the restless tides. All the fine plans thy subtle mind hath spun Melt into air, like mists before the sun ; Yet why regret? substantial systems wrought By heads of statesmen crumble into nought. The wings of time, through oft repeated shocks, Beat down opinions strong as granite rocks ; TO A FRIEND IN TOWN. 57 Senates have sanction'd schemes they now deride ; How mortifying this to human pride ! Bacon has said, then take it in my rhyme, The slaves of custom are the sport of time ; How, as they strive to check his onward course, He whirls them round with a resistless force ! While knowledge, strong as is the ocean's tide, Scatters opposing errors far and wide : Sweeping away the veil that time has thrown O'er old opinions all must soon disown. Though knowledge be progressive, mystery shrouds The glowing sons of fancy in her clouds, So brilliant they divert aspiring youth From following sober lights hung out by truth. But ah ! from them involved within the mass Too soon away the brilliant colours pass. Mystical poetry with wondrous art Entwines itself around the enthusiast's heart. 58 FOURTH EPISTLE Alastor gathers images remote From human use, as stimulants to thought. With projects wild his brain distemper'd teems, His world appears impalpable as dreams. Vague phantoms take the place of living forms, And torturing doubt a noble mind deforms. How can a soul which matter clogs, discern Abstraction's shadowy tribe ? their nature learn ? Awhile they rush before our mental sight Enlarged, then far recede, and all is night ! We shape our projects from a chaos wild Of dreams that ought not to delude a child ; Then, as our air-built phantasies deceive Hopes that are nursed in spite of reason — grieve. In one brief day, thoughts rapidly succeed Each other, varying as we act or read : As mutable as Claudia's love that veers From heirs for wealth plebeian fam'd, to Peers ; Or those opinions, that in proper reason Conviction brings against our staggering reason ; TO A FRIEND IN TOWN. 59 Conviction, as self-interest rules the hour, Has opportunely a resistless power. What are the secret links, uniting thought With thought ? here metaphysics teach us nought ; The mind, but lately pleased with idle things, Is teeming now with vast imaginings ; (Not that of Quintus which, except the news That clubs can give, no subject can amuse.) The voice, but lately bland, in fearful tone, Now bids the oppressor tremble on his throne ; And hearts indignant with responsive beat Throb, and impatient crowds their shouts repeat. Thus a great actor has upon the stage Alternate fits of tenderness and rage ; Who a few minutes since among his guests Threw rapidly his laughter-moving jests. Imagination is to mortals given, That they might sometimes catch a glimpse of heaven, 60 FOURTH EPISTLE But not to be an erring guide, at strife With all the sober principles of life : To cheat us. as a Prospero with his wand Creates and then dissolves a fairy band. Yet what are all the pleasures as we pass Through life, that cheer our pilgrimage, alas ! Beauty attracts us with her smiles, and Love Is a most busy god while idlers move, Thronging those gardens gay of which the flowers Transcend the choicest that adorn our bowers ; There glow in summer's lighter garb array' d The loveliest forms that ever Nature made ; The roseate bloom of youth is on their cheeks : In their sweet looks mind eloquently speaks. (Yet taste laments that Tullia's shape is gone ; Among her fair compeers she brightly shone.) Eyes that with tears were fill'd but yesternight For a lost Almack's, sparkle with delight. TO A FRIEND IN TOWN. 61 Come thou, enchantress Music, with thy strains Alternate wake delight, or calm our pains : Thou canst attune the heart to every change Of feeling as thy fancy loves to range : Thou art mysterious Harmony by Heaven To man, a solace for his sorrows given. The Hermit dreams of music in his cell, Of voices heard in Heaven the choral swell : The Pilgrim hears the vesper bell at close Of day, and nears the city of repose, Cheerful yet pensive ; while the minstrels come With merry sounds, to cheer the Burgher's home. Now rouse the warrior's souls ; now in the lute With thy fine touch the lover's ear salute. A ballet at the Opera, it seems, ( b ) Is what a poet fancies when he dreams : Oh what a world of poesy is there ! What delicate spirits people earth and air ! Angels of light, too fine for Man's embrace — They are, if Angels, then a fallen race. 62 FOURTH EPISTLE What are these beings of ethereal mould By whom the " Muses' tales are truly told?" Young Claudius knows, whose heart such beauty warms, That these all-glorious sprites have venal charms. But Freedom here can show a nobler prize Than loveliest nymph, if Claudius will be wise ; Fortune and birth, be he but blest with sense, Will give him more than labour' d eloquence ! What though deficient he in Grattan's fire, Canning's fine irony, Grey's nobler ire, Let him but heed the People's genuine voice, Their boundless love will make his heart rejoice. Soon will he thank his God that gratitude Can warm a peasant's heart however rude ! Smiles that light up fair woman's face impart Joy to the senses, sunshine to the heart : While gay good humour laughs from Clara's eyes, Her brow is more serene than summer skies. A wit offends ; soon anger in her frown Like thunder sleeping in a cloud is shown. TO A FRIEND IN TOWN. «3 Hapless the wight on whom it chance to burst ; What devil than a scold is more accurst ? Metella, Fashion's most prevailing star, Brilliant as Venus rising in her car ; Metella (scorn sits lovely on her lips) Frowns, can another's radiance her's eclipse ? A purse-proud rival, not in loveliness Dares to surpass her, but in wealth's excess. Shall then the Day-God's flower that flaunting shows Its yellow hue, raise envy in the rose ? Oh, no ! Metella's splendour far outshines Her rival's grandeur, were she queen of mines. Taste, birth's obedient fairy waves her wand Through her saloon — Gold cannot taste command. Turn we from scenes like these ; and long and loud The Preacher's voice is heard above the crowd, Denouncing all those vanities, that late Gladden'd our spirits ; these awhile we hate, Though Saints far more attractive to the eye Than Guido's fair Madonnas near us sigh. 64 FOURTH EPISTLE One act of real virtue bears the impress Of Deity upon it, nothing less, Outlasting all the glittering gauds that Pride Delights the fool with, ay the wise beside. So says the Preacher : trembling, we believe His words, but still again ourselves deceive ; Still to the world return, with zest increased, Like parting coursers in the field released. Though timid Cocknies scorn (a nerveless race) ( c ) That life of life, the madness of the chase : The draw, the find, the soul-exciting burst, The burning emulation to be first ; These are delights ; but sports must lose their zest, When days are blank, and spirits are deprest. Lucilius, burden'd with superfluous coin, Pants the kind sharers in his wealth to join, Where Crockford's palace glares upon his eyes, As a proud harlot sense of shame defies* TO A FRIEND IN TOWN. 65 How true the proverb, " Cobwebs that enfold The less, on greater reptiles loose their hold." Wondering that men can thus their money lose ; Sons of virtu, a better part you choose. Some book, it matters not in prose or rhyme, ( d ) You buy, — we '11 call it " Pleasure's rare Passe-tyme ;" Or drag some dusty picture to the day, — Cheap, if you have five hundred pounds to pay : The picture, you remove the sacred dust, Had better in its former station rust ; — The book, how vast your agony of grief ! More precious than the Sibyl's, wants a leaf ! Tullius, whose well-stored library 's a hive Of sweets the varied flowers of genius give, Is but a drone : from book to book he flies ; Tastes all, contributes nothing, — useless dies. Where to support the poor, Bazaars are graced With high-born dames behind the counter placed : 66 FOURTH EPISTLE Fair Seraphina studiously displays Her pretty wares for charity, or praise. Works finish'd by her lovely hands attract Attention ; here a novel, there a tract : These works her varied inclinations paint ; The fair, as fashion wills, is blue, or saint ! This sickly feeling, that can never thrive, Unless by Pleasure's aid 'tis kept alive — Call you this Charity, that He approves Who knows the spring that every action moves ? This charity, that's borne, as Angels sing, To God's eternal mount, on Seraph's wing ? Though Nature in her noblest mood has made Sydney in camps, and Howard in the shade, Moral phaenomena ! more rare, I fear, Than an Iago, or Sir Giles, are here : Benevolence, pure element of good, Is dash'd with grosser matter in our blood. TO A FRIEND IN TOWN. 67 Orfellus gives you feasts, to glut his pride : You ask a loan of him, he turns aside. While Bavius prates of friendship in his verse, Yet from the dearest friend withholds his purse.— The generous man — he whom the world com- mends, — Fills high the sparkling wine-cup for his friends ; And yet this hospitable reveller lives For self, for self alone his banquet gives. What though this Pharisee exalts his horn On high, and views a brother's woes with scorn ; When placed before the judgment seat of Heaven, The scorner may be lost, the scorn' d forgiven. Fame cries that Appius, generous wight, but lives To bless his neighbour : all he has he gives. Though in subscriptions be his name enroll' d, His virtue glitters — 'tis not sterling gold : No prayer of those he has relieved by stealth, Consecrates alms that trumpet forth his wealth. f 2 68 FOURTH EPISTLE Croesus for unimagined pleasure pants ; His very pain is that he nothing wants : His life, a calm so sickling to the soul, Were worse to many than the tempest's howl. Tis the pursuit that cheers us ; when attain'd, The object is as speedily disdain'd ; Of wealth unbounded, as in rank the first, Croesus with fulness of enjoyment 's curst. Crassus, rich child of dulness, lives among High orators and mighty sons of song: Admitted to the table of the Gods, he's hit, Like Vulcan, by their frequent shafts of wit. Strange are the qualities in Man commixt ! Firm in some things, in others how unfixt ! Can that Valerius, whose high worth is seen In public actions, be in private mean ? Or can Ambrosius point beyond the grave A Hell for sinners, and become a knave ? TO A FRIEND IN TOWN. 69 How the arch-tempter loves within his toils To catch reluctant dragons I they are spoils. The same imaginary sorrows vex Unquiet spirits, the same cares perplex ; Go to the Court, what characters are there ? The same by Pope described, or La Bruyere. Eugenius daily with unwearied zeal Resumes his labours for the common weal ; Neglects his fine estate, with study pale O'erworks his brains, and what does this avail ? The dullest idler may in public speak Better than him — our Patriot's nerves are weak. Ascanius, for his trade too honest, dives Into the depths of policy, and strives In Sabbathless pursuit of fame to be What never with his nature can agree. Too good, though train'd up in the statesman's school, To see through those whom selfish passions rule ; 7 9 FOURTH EPISTLE Too sensitive to bear against the blast Of faction till its rage be overpast. Each flying shade, each transient light will throw Young Flaccus into fits of joy or woe. — The breath of censure, frown of scorn, will shake His frame, until his heart-strings almost break. If but a feather's weight oppress his nerves, The mind disjointed from its purpose swerves. Scarce on his self-raised eminence appear'd Publius; the harass'd sons of freedom cheer'd. To him, as to the pillar'd fire that burn'd At night before the Israelites, they turn'd. Struggling 'gainst tyranny's recurring wave They heard his voice, all-powerful to save ; (A voice that fulmining o'er Europe shamed Power from attempting schemes that cunning framed,) With energy renew'd then upwards sprung, And firmly to their rock of safety clung. TO A FRIEND IN TOWN. 71 As falls the mighty column in its pride, Publius had reach' d Ambition's height, and died. Perish'd a statesman as erect and great, As from its watch-tower e'er o'erlook'd the state. Political Economy ! how few ( e ) Through thy strange labyrinth can find a clue ! Soon as he enters it, the Tyro's lost, On every side by turns of " value" crost. Then let Ricardo, mighty guide, direct His steps ! let Malthus shout each different sect ! Dear is our country to us, dear our law, As perfect as a gem without a flaw : Were he alive the dicast-lashing bard, Whose wit is brilliant, though 'tis somewhat hard, Would Mitchell's great Apollo dart his gibe ( f ) At virtuous England's fee-receiving tribe ? While Justice with her well-poised balance stands, The weights pass slowly through a thousand hands. 72 FOURTH EPISTLE Since some there are who, menaced with a jail, Invent, by conscience unappall'd, a tale ; Who join a company whose traffic lies In certain wares, that men call perjuries ; Who live begirt by knaves from day to day On alms supplied them by the law's delay. Invention comes, unfolding every hour, Of steam the almost preternatural power. What cannot mind achieve whose magic skill Rules this reluctant element at will ? It may perchance some mightier power create, That now in depths of night its fiat wait. Improvement points to paths yet unexplored, Where realms of science richest spoils afford. Hundreds, where one but formerly essay'd, Attempt through learning's deepest paths to wade Fame's temple with her thousand portals still Is placed on high ; but all ascend the hill. TO A FRIEND IN TOWN. 73 Ye few secure yon heights above to keep Your stations now — is this a time to sleep ? The mild interpreter of Nature now Had been a Faustus centuries ago, ( s ) Nor God, nor Daemon scarcely prized, no more, He adds his mite unto the common store, The gain of patient thought ; meanwhile increase Through mutual intercourse the gifts of peace. Commerce, the nurse of Freedom, rears afar Her flag triumphant o'er wide-wasting war. Though Prejudice still struggles to maintain Her long ascendency, she strives in vain. The " Georgics of the mind," so widely spread Is knowledge, make the rudest hind well-bred. Beggars in metaphor your alms entreat, And low-born knaves like Gentlemen can cheat. Milkmaids write flowing lines on purling rills, And Owen's happy children dance quadrilles. Some master minds there are, that still excel The rest, as Davy's vast discoveries tell; 74 FOURTH EPISTLE Unrivaird in his art, with what success, He bore the Torch through Chemistry's recess ! From age to age his deep research shall wake Some genius slumbering else on Lethe's lake, Whose talents in a moment may, by chance, For years the knowledge of his art advance. The sun of science in its noonday blaze Glorious would strike our Bacon with amaze, Were he again revisiting this earth To view its progress, as he hail'd its birth. But genius came all-perfect from above, As sprung Minerva from the head of Jove, Play'd in bold lightnings o'er the Theban's lyre, And shone round Homer's head a crown of fire : Fresh as their air, and brilliant as their sky, Flow'd on the deep stream of their Poesy. In lovely Greece, while yet the world was young, Pregnant with intellect such Poets sung ; TO A FRIEND IN TOWN. 75 In that fair clime, by subtle Taste refined Came forth the rich creations of the mind. Beauty and wit, bright idols of the crowd, Beneath a veil of allegory glow'd. Are not our Bards of olden times confest By all to be more potent than the rest ? Shakspeare, whate'er I may presume to call ( h ) Thee, Moralist, Bard, Sage, or all in all ; May I approach thy intellectual throne, While now all spirits are to thee as known As once on earth mankind, and bow the knee, Thou Idol of an English heart, to thee. What but thy wondrous talent could display Such perfect samples of the grave and gay ? As Hamlet's melancholy mood we quit For Hal's light badinage and FalstafFs wit. (*) Compared with thine, the noblest dramas fraught With genius, are but rudiments of thought ; 76 FOURTH EPISTLE And images the bard profusely pours, As if he never could exhaust his stores, On every glowing verse, but give the change Of a few fancies circumscribed in range. Invention's unborn sons might yet produce Works, bending Nature's will to human use ; Another Watt may bless mankind ; but when Shall Shakspeare's inspiration live again ? Shakspeare, the glorious morning-star that cheer'd Our dawn of literature, has disappear'd ; What light has since uprisen to adorn The noon, as that illumed the purple morn ? One like a meteor ( k ) (Nations gazed, admired,) Rush'd on our sight, blazed momently, expired. Its radiance, flashing on our memory, warms Us still ; in dreams its noble aspect charms. The rage for all that 's marvellous and new Pervades the crowd, a love of truth but few. TO A FRIEND IN TOWN. 77 With Shakspeare and the Northern Seer content, Why heed we what inferior minds invent ? Far as our language spreads, from clime to clime, Is Shakspeare's muse upborne on wings of time : Thousands unborn her glorious flight shall hail : — Nature is ever felt though customs fail. Now Authors come at Fashion's call in haste To please with varied food the public taste. Well ! they are idols of the day, and have All that they want — what r s fame beyond the grave ? An unsubstantial glare that flickers o'er Ambition's dangerous eminence, no more — Let Milton wait posterity's award, 'Tis present gain that charms the modern bard. A bard triumphant, disregarding facts, Some known event from History's page extracts : Drawn from a Poem that just praise hath won, The tale is through a lengthen'd novel spun ; 78 FOURTH EPISTLE Here fiction o'er a wider surface blends Itself with truth, and common sense offends. Are not the Novelists whose bright renown Blazed through all Italy — now scarcely known ? Except Boccaccio ; (He who reads must smile At his fine wit, and love his perfect style.) And yet the gems that from invention's mine They drew, than ours more beautifully shine. A tale of real life by Fashion wove, Each has its season, high and low approve. Another follows, incidents surprise — And scenes of woe with tears fill loveliest eyes. As a high-crested wave o'ertops the rest, Then foaming breaks on Ocean's heaving breast ; Thus towers awhile, his Brother-Bards among, Some mightier Poet, how sublime in song ! Till, on the wide expanse of ages cast, He's caught within oblivion's gulf at last! TO A FRIEND IN TOWN. 79 Since thoughts successive in another sphere, Excel those of our brightest moments here : Why should he seek distinction, which acquired, He may hereafter scorn, though now desired ! Unless the master-spirits of this earth Then relatively greater shall shine forth. How oft in bygone days we loved to quote Each gentle verse that Pope to Harley wrote ; (') Or that sweet lay, in which while he adored " Mary in Heaven," poor Burns his soul outpour'd ; To snatch, (can words the depth or breadth express Of Wordsworth) 'raptured with their loveliness, The pearls of wisdom, that, beneath his stream Of poetry, as pure as Derwent's, gleam. Oh these are Poets we may call divine ; Like Angels standing in the Sun, they shine. Point out to us exultingly the way That leads to Truth's abode as bright as day. They give the freshest hue to every flower Year after year ; they waken thoughts that tower 80 FOURTH EPISTLE Above our sordid schemes on earth ; they blend Emotions here, with those which heavenward tend. May we, once having past death's confines, see In their own orbs the great, the good, the free : That " old man eloquent" ( m ) whose mind was stored With ancient, modern lore, a boundless hoard ! Whose genius e'en o'er common subjects threw Embroidery of language ever new ! Newton ! La Place ! what mind can comprehend The worlds through which all-seeing they ascend ! While to their gaze as crystal mirrors clear, The wonders of the Universe appear. As knowledge burns within them, on their sight In full perspective burst the realms of light, One blaze, no momentary cloud obscures, Such as the eye of mind alone endures ! From strength to strength, unclogg'd by grosser sense, Progressive grows each fine intelligence. The shades of mystery vanishing, at last All harmonize — the present — future — past — TO A FRIEND IN TOWN. 81 Like interchange of sunbeams, thought with thought Has quick communion, — wisdom comes unsought ; And mind with all the sciences instinct That rainbow-like are blended yet distinct, With mind converses ; Envy never throws One shadow there where Love's pure effluence flows. Oh what ineffable delight above, To know, to feel, that all around is love ! Though broken be the lute, the magic skill Of the musician lives within him still- Shall not that efflux bright from Heaven, the mind, Survive the ruins of its " corporal rind ?" Crown'd with transcendant splendours far and wide, Then range, and Time's decaying touch deride. Drawing by turns into itself whate'er It sees around that 's wonderful or fair ? Collecting knowledge infinite each hour, As the Bee gathers sweets from every flower. Beings we partially imagine now, Gay creatures of our day-dreams, then will glow 82 FOURTH EPISTLE. Star-like in lustre, beauteous as that morn, When above Eden's mount the Day-God rose new-born. Will pass in waves of light the mind before That then may dare their nature to explore, Whatever be its element ; or flame, Or finer essence that we cannot name. NOTES. G 2 NOTES ON THE FIRST EPISTLE TO A FRIEND IN TOWN. ( a ) Cethegus shines alike with talents rare, Or in St. Giles's, or in Grosvenor-square. It is the boast of a very sporting character, that he is equally at home at the Beggar's Opera in St. Giles's, and at Carlton Palace. ( b ) So strange is taste, that some do not disdain To breathe the wholesome air of Maiden-lane. The celebrated Professor Porson passed several " noctes atticee" at the cyder-cellar in Maiden-lane, where, as Moore says of the famous Tom Crib, he shone the ve$s\riy$piT* Z,v S of surrounding gods. ( c ) Nor Ude's best fare. Ude, a distinguished French cook, who has published a 36 NOTES ON THE work on the famous art of cookery. It certainly is " ca- viare to the general.' 7 (d) Compared with his, e'en Egan's sports are tame. Whoever wishes to be acquainted with a pious prank of the celebrated Earl of Wharton, may peruse No. 22 of the Examiner, written by Dean Swift, who there relates a truly edifying anecdote of his Lordship. Mr. Egan, in his i( Life in London/' has given a most attractive picture of the plea- sures, which those who are initiated in the mysteries of fashion may enjoy in the Metropolis. su per le dita Tutte di Londra le taverne e i bagni, E i eavalli piu rapidi, e di galli Piu bellicosi, e di piii chiara stirpe, E i piii trernendi pugili. — Pindemonte. When there are so many employments for a man of spirit, who would be idle ? we leave it to Frenchmen Sauter, danser, faire l'amour, Et boire vin blanc et vermeil ; Et ne rien faire tout le jour, Que compter escus au soleil. — Rabelais. Here let me rest in this sweet solitude, Where knaves and parasites shall ne'er intrude ! No bacchanals are here, to give pretence For wild excess, or ruinous expense : FIRST EPISTLE. 87 In yon delightful wood I love to hear, Though strange may seem the notes, a welcome cheer. The birds, by nature fed, ask nought of me ; Theirs is at least no counterfeited glee. Is not this better than among the crowd To fret, and gaze, and cringe before the proud ? MS. NOTES ON THE SECOND EPISTLE TO A FRIEND IN TOWN. (*) When Kemble, like the god-like hero, shone. It is an epoch in a man's life to have seen Kemble in Coriolanus. I have no more an abstract idea of Coriolanus as separated from Kemble, than Martinus Scriblerus had of a Lord Mayor without his insignia of office, his gold chain, &c. This great actor possessed the qualities necessary to make a first-rate tragedian in an eminent degree ; but his distinguishing excellence was taste, which, in an ode, spoken at a public dinner given to Mr. Kemble upon his retirement from the stage, is thus beautifully described by the most refined poet of the present day : — Taste, like the silent gnomon's power, To which supernal light is given ; That dials inspiration's hour, And tells its height in Heaven. SECOND EPISTLE. 89 ( b ) At once their world of poetry and wit ! Shakspeare, Massinger, Fletcher ! whom we might thus address in the language of an excellent modern poet, Illustres animse ! si quid mortalia tangunt Ceelicolas ! si gentis adhuc cura ulla Britannse ; Vos precor, antiquum vos instaurate vigorem ; Ut tandem excusso nitamur ad ardua somno, Virtutis verae memores, et laudis avitse. Hawkins Browne, DeAnimi immortalitate* ( c ) Like Machiavel in politics, " It has been contended by some of Machiavel's apolo- gists that his real object in unfolding and systematizing the mysteries of King- Craft, was to point out indirectly to the people the means by which the encroachments of their rulers might be most effectually resisted ; and at the same time to satirize under the ironical mask of loyal and courtly admonition, the characteristical vices of princes. But al- though this hypothesis has been sanctioned by several dis- tinguished names, and derives some verisimilitude from various incidents in the author's life, it will be found on examination quite untenable ; and accordingly it is now, I believe, very generally rejected. One thing is certain, that if such were actually Machiavel's views, they were much too refined for the capacity of his royal pupils." See Dugald Stewart's Preface to the Supplement to the Encyclopedia Britannica. 90 NOTES ON THE ( d ) Yet politics are but ephemeral things, " The very dregs and rinsings of the human intellect/' as the author of the ( ' Confessions of an English Opium Eater ' says. ( e ) Kings, though the world 9 s progressive, will be kings : Statesmen are statesmen still. La bonne for, dit le Senateur Nani, manquera dans Texecution des traitez tant que vivra l'interest ; et l'in- terest vivra tant que les princes regneront. L'Empereur Maximilien disoit que les princes ne s'arre- toient pas au texte de leurs traitez et de leurs capitulations, mais a la glose, c'est a dire, a Interpretation quils y vouloient donner. Lettres du Cardinal d'Ossat, avec les Notes de M.Amelot de la Houssaie. ( f ) The skeleton at least of Taylor's prose. The great Jeremy Taylor, of whom an eloquent writer in the Edinburgh Review thus justly says : i( We will ven- ture to assert that there is in any one of the prose folios of Jeremy Taylor more fine fancy and original imagery, more brilliant conceptions and glowing expressions, more new figures, and new applications of old figures, more, in short, of the body and soul of poetry, than in all the odes, and the epics that have since been produced in Europe. Article on Ford's Dramatic Works, August 1811. SECOND EPISTLE. 91 (e) Notes tersely pencill'd show sententious wit. As Witwoulcl says in Congreve's " Way of the "World," " Thou hast uttered folios in less than decimo sexto, my dear Lacedemonian; Sirrah Petulant, thou art an epito- mizer of words." ( h ) Philips will sell their gewgaws that amaze, &c. ,i Mine eyes have made Discovery of the caskets, and they open'd ; Each sparkling diamond from itself shot forth A pyramid of flames, and in the roof Fix'd it a glorious star, and made the place Heaven's abstract or epitome City Madam. Such was the wealth displayed in the house of a cele- brated character, who rivalled in magnificence the Sultan of Gazna, or Musicanus. (*) Who buys not glittering toys when very dear. This line may appear absurd to those who have not been at fashionable auction-rooms, nor have witnessed the com- petition that there is among bidders to purchase articles of no intrinsic value whatever, merely because they belonged to a " Man of Fashion." I have know^books to bring a very high price at auctions because they were collected by a black-letter hunter, which might have been bought for half the sum at many booksellers' shops in London. 92 NOTES ON THE ( k ) Who loves to breathe, &c. I am indebted for this idea to the following beautiful passage in Tom Jones. " It was now the middle of May, and the morning was remarkably serene, when Mr. All worthy walked forth on the terrace, where the dawn opened every minute that lovely prospect, we have before described, to his eye. And now having sent forth streams of light which ascended to the firmament before him, as harbingers preceding his pomp, in the full blaze of his majesty uprose the Sun; than which one object alone in this lower creation could be more glo- rious, and that Mr. Allworthy himself presented ; a human being replete with benevolence, meditating in what manner he might render himself most acceptable to his Creator, by doing most good to his creatures." This is the portrait of a fictitious personage ; but I see in it a close resemblance to one whose memory I shall never cease to venerate ! ( ! ) Burke says ambition is too bold a vice. " Avarice is a rival to the pursuits of many. It finds a multitude of checks, and many opposers in every walk of life. But the objects of ambition are for the few, and every person who aims at indirect profit, and therefore wants other protection than innocence and law, instead of its rival becomes its instrument. There is a natural allegiance and SECOND EPISTLE. 93 fealty due to this domineering paramount evil from all the vassal vices, which acknowledge its superiority, and readily militate under its banners ; and it is under that discipline alone that avarice is able to spread to any considerable extent, or to render itself a general public mischief." — Burke's Speech on the Nabob of Arcot's Debts, Cosi cresce '1 desir vile et immondo Del crudel oro 3 et 1' insatiabil rabbia, Onde non gusta huom mai viver giocondo. Ariosto, Satira Quarta. ( m ) Crispus with studied negligence will speak. II ne faut pas juger des hommes comme d'un tableau, ou d'une figure sur une seule et premiere vue ; il y a un interieur et un cceur qu'il faut approfondir : le voile de la modestie couvre le merite, et le masque de l'hypocrisie cache la malignite; il n'y a qu'un tres-petit nombre de connoisseurs qui discern e, et qui soit en droit de prononcer; ce n'est que peu a peu, et forces meme par le temps et les occasions, que la vertu parfaite et le vice consomme vien- nent enfin a se declarer. NOTES ON THE THIRD EPISTLE TO A FRIEND IN TOWN. (») When life, and light and love, the trinal beam, Shall flow upon the good in endless stream. Noi semo usciti fuore Del maggior corpo al Ciel, ch' e pura luce ; Luce intellettual piena d' amore, Amor di vero ben pien di letizia, Letizia, che trascende ogni dolore. Dante Del Paradiso. Canto 30. ( b ) Then in my mind are suddenly revived The days when Sidney, 'flower of knighthood/ lived. How delightful is the character of Sir Philip Sidney, as given by Dr. Zouch ! — " The elegance of his manners ; the versatility of his genius, adapting itself to the acquisition of universal knowledge ; his unbounded munificence ; his amiable demeanour in domestic life ; his tender feelings for the miseries of those persecuted Protestants, who in defence THIRD EPISTLE. 95 of their religion and liberties, resisted the savage insolence of Spanish tyranny; the suavity of his disposition, so alluring that he was, as it were, nursed in the lap of the Graces ; an experience above his years ; an invincible pa- tience under the most acute sufferings — all these qualities will render his name grateful to future ages. His dignified and winning deportment filled every beholder with de- light/' — Zouctis Memoirs of Sidney , page 349. ( c ) ' c That now one boundless present will endure." " One boundless Present — one eternal Now/' — Young. ( d ) And the columnar cactus towers unto the skies. " The hill of calcareous breccia which we have j ust re- garded as an island in the ancient gulf, is covered with a thick forest, of columnar cactus and opuntia. Some thirty or forty feet high, covered with lichens, and divided into several branches in the form of candelabras, wear a singu- lar appearance. Near Maniquarez, at Punta Araya, we measured a cactus, the trunk of which was four feet nine inches in circumference/' — Humboldt's Personal Narrative. (e) This gifted Being, to the haunts of men Preferrd the mountains height, or lonely glen. The following beautiful lines, extracted from the tragedy of Count Julian, are applicable to a great Poet, and 96 NOTES ON THE excellent Man, who is shadowed out under the character of Eumolpus. No airy or light passion stirs abroad To ruffle or to soothe him ; all are quell' d Beneath a mightier, sterner stress of mind ! Wakeful he sits, and lonely and unmoved Beyond the arrows, views, or shouts of men : As often-times an i Eagle,' when the sun Throws o'er the varying earth his early ray, Stands solitary, stands immovable Upon some highest cliff, and rolls his eye Clear, constant, unobservant, unabashed In the cold light, above the dews of morn. Count Julian, Act v. Scene 2, ( f ) One might his highly polish'd wit compare To the snow-diamond beautiful and rare, " The most frequent colours of the diamond, as already mentioned, are the white and grey ; and of these the most highly prized by the Jeweller are the snow-white/' — Jamie- sons Mineralogy. (°) Yet praise is dear to all — the world's, alas, (As wet and dry affect the weather-glass ) Or given or withheld can raise or sink The spirits, 'tis for that we act and think. THIRD EPISTLE. 97 " Sic leve, sic parvum est, animum quod laudis avarum Subruit, ac reficit." — Horat. Ep. ( h ) Antimachus, (since such a name the Muse Reluctant for the wayward youth must choose,) Antimachus in the " Nubes of Aristophanes/' according to the scholiast, is a very handsome and very profligate vouth. (•) But with alternate colours dark and bright, The glaring contrast shocks the moral sight. Such a contrast of colours was exhibited in the charac- ters of the Alcibiadeses, Cesars, Whartons, and Boling- brokes of their day : the character of Lord Bolingbroke is so admirably painted by Lord Chesterfield, that I will make no apology for introducing it here, though it be well known. " Here the darkest, there the most splendid colours, and both rendered more shining from their proximity. Impe- tuosity, excess, and almost extravagancy, characterised not only his passions, but even his senses. His youth was distinguished by all the tumult and storm of pleasures in which he most licentiously triumphed, disdaining all deco- rum : His fine imagination has often been heated and ex- hausted with his body in celebrating and deifying the pros- titute of the night ; and his convivial joys were pushed H 98 NOTES, &c. to all the extravagancy of the most frantic Bacchanals. Those passions were interrupted but by a stronger — Ambition/' ( k ) Happy as Demonax. Demonax was the good Philosopher of Cyprus, as de- scribed by Lucian : he lived to the age of a hundred. He was a wit, a man of genius, and a virtuous citizen. NOTES ON THE FOURTH EPISTLE TO A FRIEND IN TOWN. ( a ) Till in the sun her crisped smiles she wreathes. That o'er the interminable ocean wreathe Your crisped smiles. Potter's translation of the Prometheus Vinctus of JEschylus. Non avea pur Natura ivi dipinto, Ma di soavita di mille odori Vi facea incognito indistinto. — Dante. ( b ) A ballet at the Opera it seems. There is nothing certainly in the artificial world more attractive than an Opera ballet, where for a time you seem to be transported among " amoretti alati/ 9 scenes worthy of Paradise, roseate clouds and " gay creatures of the element." Quae nee mortales dignantur visere coetus, Nee se contingi patiuntur lumine claro. h 2 100 NOTES ON THE Thus Venus look'd, when from the waveless sea She rose ; (her rising Nature smiled to see,) Loosely enrobed, and brighter than the morn On car of young Hyperion upborne ; Fresh as the rose, her limbs impearl'd with spray, In floating shell the Queen of Rapture lay ; Admiring Mermaids throng'd to grace her train, The Syrens sang, and Nereids skimm'd the main. MS. ( c ) Though timid cocknies scorn, a nerveless race. In spite of the ridicule of Fielding and other writers, I will venture to say, that those only depreciate the pleasures of the chase who know not how to enjoy them : the songs of Tyrtseus, who roused his countrymen to battle, and in- fused into them an unconquerable courage, are not more spirit-stirring than the verses on the Epwell hunt. — Vol. 3, page 457, Daniel's Rural Sports, teo edition. Even the greatest philosophers have enjoyed, and the greatest poets have extolled, the pleasures of the chase. Diogenes Laertius describes Xenophon as fond of the sports of the field. Virgil's fine lines in the third book of his Georgics are well known, Saepe etiam cursu timidos agitabis onagros, Et canibus leporem, canibus venabere damas. Saepe volutabris pulsos silvestribus apros Latratu turbabis agens, montesque per altos Ingentem clamore premes ad retia cervum. FOURTH EPISTLE. 101 And Dry den in his letter to his Cousin, with more poetical animation, perhaps, than knowledge of sporting, says, With crowds attended of your ancient race You seek the champaign sports, or sylvan chase ; With well breathed beagles you surround the wood. Even then industrious of the common good ; And often have you brought the wily fox To suffer for the firstlings of the flocks ; Chased even amid the folds, and made to bleed Like felons, where they did the murderous deed. Sir Francis Burdett, perhaps the most eloquent speaker in the House of Commons, is not the worse orator for being " a good Meltonian ." ( d ) Some book, it matters not in prose or rhyme. In a " priced Roxburghe catalogue,' 7 are the following books or tracts : No. 3268. The Passetyme of Pleasure, by Stephen Hawys. 4to. very rare. London, Wynken de Worde, 1517. 81/. No. 3284. The Castell of Pleasure. 4to. very scarce. Wynken de Worde. 64Z. What earthly pleasure these " Castells and Passetymes'' give to the possessor, it is not perhaps very easy to deter- mine; but, as the noble author of "English Bards and Scotch Reviewers" justly observes, " A book's a book although there's nothing in it." 102 NOTES ON THE ( e ) Political economy is a study as yet in its infancy ; and so it will continue to be, as long as men are not agreed about the precise terms by which they would convey their ideas on this most interesting subject. Is value absolute or relative ? Are values of commodities to each other as values of their labours ? Is labour or money the most accurate measure of value ? Can there be such a thing as an invariable measure of value ? The disciples of Ricardo and Malthus differ upon points of essential importance. Are profits solely governed by the value of the last lands that are taken into cultivation? May not saving from revenue, to add to capital, be carried to too great an extent ? Is it true that if one branch of trade be overstocked, some other must necessarily be understocked ? Are a body of unproductive consumers ne- cessary to stimulate demand and to increase production ? ( f ) Would Mitchell's great Apollo dart his gibe ? Aristophanes : see his " Vespse," in which the courts of justice at Athens are severely satirized. But, after all, who would form his opinion of those courts from the lively, caustic representations of a satirical comic poet ? As well might posterity form its opinion of a House of Commons in the reigns of Queen Anne, or the first George, from Swift's famous description of the " Legion Club." Great praise is due to Mr. Peel and Mr. Brougham (in the great work of reforming the law they may be classed FOURTH EPISTLE. 103 together as fellow-labourers in the same vineyard,) for their exertions in endeavouring to remove the anomalies that are everywhere apparent in our civil as well as cri- minal code of jurisprudence. " It is not possible, indeed, to estimate how valuable an offer he makes to society who gives it a single good law. There are but few words, perhaps, that compose it ; but in those few words may be involved an amount of good, in- creasing progressively with each generation, which, if it could have been known in all its amplitude to the legislator at the time when he contrived his project, would have dazzled and overwhelmed his very power of thought. What is true of a new law, that relates to some positive institu- tion, is, as may be supposed, equally true of those laws which merely repeal and remedy the past ; since a single error in policy may, in long continuance, produce as much evil, as a single wise enactment may in its long continu- ance produce good." — Brown's Philosophy of the Human Mind, vol. 4. page 354. (e) Had been a Faustus centuries ago. The disposition of the people in former days to attribute any new discovery to magic, is apparent in the following anecdote of Otto Gurike, (who lived about the year 1640,) a wealthy magistrate of Magdeburgh, the discoverer of the air-pump. " Gurike took great pleasure in a huge water barometer 104 NOTES ON THE erected in his house. It consisted #f a tube above thirty feet high, rising along the wall and terminated by a tall and rather wide tube, hermetically sealed, containing a toy of the shape of a man. The whole being filled with water and set in a balance on the ground, the column of liquor settled to the proper altitude, and left the toy floating on its sur- face ; but all the lower part of the tube being concealed under the wainscoating, the little image or weather manni- kin, as he was called, made its appearance only when raised up to view in fine weather. This whimsical contri- vance, which received the name of amenoscope, or semper vivum, excited among the populace vast admiration : and the worthy magistrate was in consequence shrewdly sus- pected of being too familiar with the powers of darkness/' — Supplement to Encyclopaedia Britannica, art, Barometer, ( h ) The sun of science, in its noonday blaze Glorious, would strike our Bacon with amaze. The progress which may be made in the sublime science of astronomy is thus splendidly described by La Place. " We will ascertain whether the motions of rotation and revolution of the earth are sensibly changed by the changes which it experiences at its surface, and by the impact of meteoric stones, which according to all probability come from the depths of the heavenly regions. The new comets which will appear, those which moving in hyperbolic orbits wander from one system to another, the returns of those FOURTH EPISTLE. 105 which move in elliptic orbits, and the changes in the form and intensity of light which they undergo at each appear- ance, will be observed ; and also the perturbations which all those stars produce in the planetary motions, those which they experience themselves, and which at approach to a large planet may entirely derange their motions ; finally, the changes which the motions and orbits of the planets and satellites experience from the action of the stars, and perhaps likewise from the resistance of the ethereal media ; such are the principal objects which the solar system offers to the investigation of future astronomers and mathemati- cians/' — La Place's System of the World. Harte's Transla- tion, vol. 2, p. 241. (*) As Hamlet's melancholy mood we quit For Hal's light badinage and Falstaff's wit. How beautifully Goethe, in his Wilhelm Meister, deli- neates the character of Hamlet ! It is too long to give in a note, but I have ventured to introduce the concluding part of this admirable exposition. " To me it is clear that Shakspeare meant in the present case to represent the effects of a great action laid upon a soul unfit for the performance of it. In this view, the whole piece seems to me to be composed. An oak-tree is planted in a costly jar which should have borne only pleasant flowers in its bosom: the roots expand; the jar is shivered. A lovely, pure, noble, and most moral nature, without the 106 NOTES ON THE strength of nerve which forms a hero, shrinks beneath a burden it cannot bear and must not cast away. All duties are holy for him ; the present is too hard. Impossibilities have been required of him ; not in themselves impossibili- ties^ but such for him. He winds and turns and torments himself; he advances and recoils ; is ever put in mind, ever puts himself in mind ; at last, does all but lose his purpose from his thoughts, yet still without recovering his peace of mind. ( k ) Shakspeare, whate'er I may presume to call " He unites in his existence the utmost elevation and the utmost depth ; and the most foreign and even apparently irreconcilable properties subsist in him peaceably together. The world of spirits and nature have laid all their treasures at his feet. In strength a demi-god, in profundity of view a prophet, in all-seeing wisdom a protecting spirit of a higher order, he lowers himself to mortals, as if unconscious of his superiority, and is as open and unassuming as a child." — Schlegel's Lectures on Dramatic Literature, vol. ii. Q) Byron. , ( m ) Each gentle verse that Pope to Harley wrote. How beautiful and unaffected are the following lines in the Epistle addressed by Pope to the Earl of Oxford ! FOURTH EPISTLE. 107 " And sure if aught below the seats divine Can touch Immortals, 'tis a soul like thine. A soul supreme in each hard instance tried, Above all pain, all passion, and all pride, The rage of power, the blast of public breath, The lust of lucre, and the dread of death." And yet there are writers who have asserted that Pope was no Poet, that he was a mere versifier, and deficient in natural feeling ! (n) Burke. THE QUEEN OF GOLCONDA'S FETE. Come forth. And taste the air of palaces, BEN JONSOX'S " ALCHEMIST.*' THE QUEEN OF GOLCONDA'S FETE I. The Queen of fair Golconda is " at home :" Her palace (its immensities must bar Description) is of gold ; the blazing dome Of one entire ruby, from afar Shines like the sun in his autumnal car Crowning a saffron mountain ; e'en the proud Zamorim's palace is as a twinkling star ( a ) Compared with this. And now the tromp aloud Proclaims the guests are come to an admiring crowd. 112 THE QUEEN OF II. The ceilings, crusted o'er with diamonds, blaze. A galaxy of stars, room after room ! The lights interminable all amaze ; But far more dazzling are the fair in bloom Of youth, whose eyes kind answering looks illume. Ah ! where the Muse of greater bards must fail In painting female charms, shall mine presume To try her hand ? though similes be stale, Yet she to Fancy's eye their beauties will unveil. in. As delicately shaped as the gazelle ; As beautiful as is the blush of morn ; As gay as Hebe, ere, alas ! she fell ; Fair as Dione in her car upborne By little Loves, while Tritons wind the horn ; Splendid as young Zenobia in their dress (Crowns bright as sunny beams their hair adorn) They were. This perfect festival to bless, Art, Beauty, Nature, Grace, combine their loveliness ! GOLCONDA'S FETE. 113 IV. Oh Youth and Beauty ! Nature's choicest gems, All Art's adornments ye for aye outshine : Far more attractive than the diadems That ever glitter'd on the brow divine Of the wise king, or, great Darius, thine. Though time may dim your lustre, in my heart Your charms shall be enshrined, while life is mine. Yet sad experience will this truth impart To loveliest maid on earth — a fading thing thou art. v. The Prophet has not to his faithful given (So prodigal of what he could not give) Such bliss refined in his Arabian Heaven, As that which they enjoy who here arrive. Vain bliss indeed ! that through a night may live ! Let but her joys be guiltless, Mirth again Will, when the season sweet returns, revive ! Then let to-morrow bring or bliss or pain : All are United now by Pleasure's flowery chain. i 114 THE QUEEN OF VI. Fair silver pillars grace the spacious halls : The pavement is mosaic ; precious stones Enrich with intermingling hues the walls ; And emerald vines o'ercanopy the thrones, Robed in all colours that the Pavone ( b ) owns. And music, with its magic influence, makes The heart responsive to its tender tones : A master-spirit now the harp awakes, Till to its inmost core each hearer's bosom shakes ! VII. And here and there from golden urns arise, Impregn'd with perfumes, purple clouds, — that throw. Like hues just caught from fair Ausonia's skies, ( c ) Throughout the palace an Elysian glow, — Odorous as roses when they newly blow. And couches, splendid as the gorgeous light Of the declining sun, or high or low. As suits capricious luxury, invite To sweet repose indeed each pleasure-laden wight. GOLCONDA'S FETE. 115 VIII. I pass the dance, the converse soft between., As fly the hours along with rapid pace. Lo ! in her chair of state Golconda's Queen Sits goddess-like ; majestic is her face, Yet mild, as well becomes her pride of place. Even Fatima in pomp of beauty ne'er ( d ) Received fair Montague with such a grace As this all-beauteous Queen withouten glare Of rank receives her guests — how winning is her air ! IX. Profusely gay, th' exuberance of joy All feel ; all feel their spirits mounting high ! One feast of happiness, that ne'er can cloy, Life seems to them, though death perchance be nigh. Why should fair bosoms ever heave a sigh ? Life is with love so closely knit, what kills Love in young breasts may dim the brightest eye. Yet tears, that eloquently speak of ills, Are as medicinal balm when grief the heart o'erfills. i 2 116 THE QUEEN OF x. In whirls fantastical the waters dance, Springing from fountains jasper-paved ; the noon Of night their sparkling freshness doth enhance. How glorious is the cupola ! a moon Of pearl shines mildly o'er the vast saloon. Fair Queen of night, shall Art then imitate Thy quiet majesty? in sooth as soon Might the poor pageantries of regal state On earth, Heaven's matchless splendours vainly emu late! XI. The banquet is prepared with sumptuous cost ; Flagons of massive gold here flame around ! Amid the piles of wealth distinction 's lost, And splendours without end, the mind astound ! All that can feast the senses here abound ; Invention's highly-gifted sons unfold (So fine their art, the like was never found,) Peris most exquisitely wrought in gold, And other delicate sprights in Eastern fables told ! GOLCONDA'S FETE. 117 XII. As if " instinct with living spirits," sing Birds of a thousand colours ; and their hues, Brilliant as flowers that o'er the meads in spring Their gay variety of tints diffuse, Would e'en the painter's shrewdest ken confuse. And Art, how wonderful ! has raised a tree To rival Nature ; (for such toys amuse Those who despise dear Nature's charms,) and see As the boughs stir — the birds all join in harmony. ( e ) XIII. Wealth, inexhaustible as Danae's shower, That pen can scarcely blazon, thought conceive, Excels not in itself the meanest flower That Innocence within her hair might weave Wandering on Avon's banks, this lovely eve ! Even Nature's humblest things can stir those deep Feelings within us that will ne'er deceive. Cherish these deep-sown feelings, ye shall reap A harvest of delight, when Pride in dust shall sleep. 118 QUEEN OF GOLCONDA'S FETE. XIV. Not that I scorn this fete unparagon'd . Tis like a well-spring amid desert sands, Or a rich vale where Flora sits enthroned, Surrounded by bleak hills, and barren lands ! What cynic would destroy love's rosy bands ? The paths of life are thorny ; o'er our heads Those grim magicians, Cares, uplift their wands ! Why marvel, then, that youth their influence dreads. And basks him in the rays the sun of beauty sheds ? April f 1824. NOTES ON THE QUEEN OF GOLCONDA'S FETE. ( a ) See the seventh book of Camoens' Lusiad. ( b ) And wings it had with sondry colours dight More sondry colours than the proud Pavone Bears in his boasted fan, or Iris bright : When her discolour'd bow she bends through Heaven's height.— Spenser . ( c ) Largior hie campos sether et lumine vestit Purpureo. — Virgil The setting sun produced the richest variety of tints in the opposite sky; among them was a lovely violet glow, rarely, if ever seen, in England. — Dallaways Constantinople. ( d ) The following splendid description of the beauty and 120 NOTES ON THE attractive manners of the " fair Fatima/' is from Lady Mary Wortley Montague's Letters. " She stood up to receive me, saluting me after their fashion, putting her hand to her heart with a sweetness full of majesty, that no court breeding could ever give. She ordered cushions to be given me, and took care to place me in the corner, which is the place of honour. I confess, though the Greek lady had be- fore given me a great opinion of her beauty, I was so struck with admiration, that I could not for some time speak to her, being wholly taken up in gazing. That surprising harmony of fea- tures ! that charming result of the whole ! that exact proportion of body ! that lovely bloom of complexion unsullied by art ! the unutterable enchantment of her smile! Bat her eyes! large and blacky with all the soft languishment of the blue ! every turn of her face discovering some new grace. " After my first surprise was over, I endeavoured, by nicely examining her face, to find out some imperfection, without any fruit of my search, but my being clearly convinced of the error of that vulgar notion, that a face exactly proportioned, and perfectly beautiful, would not be agreeable ; nature having done for her with more success, what Apelles is said to have essayed, by a col- lection of the most exact features, to form a perfect face. Add to all this a behaviour so full of grace and sweetness, such easy motions, with an air so majestic, yet free from stiffness or affecta- tion, that I am persuaded, could she be suddenly transported upon the most polite throne of Europe, nobody would think her other than born and bred to be a queen, though educated in a country we call barbarous. To say all in a word, our most celebrated English beauties would vanish near her. QUEEN OF GOLCONDA'S FETE. 121 u She was dressed in a caftan of gold brocade, flowered with silver, very well fitted to her shape, and showing to admiration the beauty of her bosom, only shaded by the thin gauze of her shift. Her drawers were pale pink, her waistcoat green and silver, her slippers white satin, finely embroidered : her lovely arms adorned with bracelets of diamonds, and her broad girdle set round with diamonds ; upon her head a rich Turkish handker- chief of pink and silver, her own fine black hair hanging a great length in various tresses, and on one side of her head some bod- kins of jewels. I am afraid you will accuse me of extravagance in this description. I think I have read somewhere that women always speak in rapture when they speak of beauty, and I cannot imagine why they should not be allowed to do so. I rather think it a virtue to be able to admire without any mixture of desire or envy. The gravest writers have spoken with great warmth of some celebrated pictures and statues. The workmanship of Hea- ven certainly excels all our weak imitations, and, I think, has a much better claim to our praise. For my part, I am not ashamed to own I took more pleasure in looking on the beauteous Fatima, than the finest piece of sculpture could have given me." ( e ) Among other spectacles of rare and stupendous luxury was a tree of gold and silver, spreading into eighteen large branches, on which, and on the lesser boughs, sat a variety of birds made of the same precious metals, as well as the leaves of the tree. While the machinery effected sponta- neous motions, the several birds warbled their natural har- mony. — Gibbon 7 s Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, vol. x. p. 38, 8vo. edition. THE VIEW Say, why was man so eminently raised. Amid the vast creation ? Why ordain'd, Through life and death to dart his piercing eyt With thoughts beyond the limit of his frame ; But that the Omnipotent might send him forth, In sight of mortal and immortal power, As in a boundless theatre, to run The great career of justice ; to exalt His generous aim to all diviner deeds ; To chase each partial purpose from his breast, And through the tossing tide of chance and pain. To hold his course unfaltering. Akenside. THE VIEW. (•) I. The world has seen much change ; yet here art thou, Mont Blanc, while generations pass away ; Thy vast heights glistening with untrodden snow. On which the sun at eve imprints his ray ; There lingers yet the mild farewell of day. The blue lake sleeps below in tranquil sheen ; Here among Nature's miracles I'll pray To Nature's Deity ; how vast the scene ! The loveliest works of God — the grandest too are seen ! 126 THE VIEW. II. Here from our slumbers light we rise to feel The consciousness of being ; fresh and free The soul pours forth its orisons with zeal To the great Spirit of Eternity That was, that is, and shall for ever be. The fertile valleys, giant mountains, prove The Omnipresence of the Deity ! Blest emblems of his wisdom, power, and loVe, Pervading all things here— around, below, above. in. The golden sun has colour' d all the woods ! Fresh views succeed ; each brighter than the last ! There barren rocks are channell'd by the floods, Here Flora's beauties cannot be surpast. Lausanne, an universe of charms thou hast ! There Winter's fetter'd in his icy bed: Steeps rise o'er steeps immeasurably vast : While the rude crags, projecting overhead, Strike in the stoutest hearts a momentary dread ! THE VIEW, 127 IV. The ambitious rhododendron climbs the snow ; Pines darken round the mountain's sides ; behold ! A thousand rills from icy caverns flow, Rushing o'er rocks irregularly bold, Where the tenacious sapling keeps its hold : Below the dark stream with collected force Still rolling on, as it has ever roll'd, Through the wide plains shapes its resistless course, As rude as Ocean's self; as grand as is its source, v. Look on these glorious wonders ! think of Him, Lord of a million worlds, that have, perchance, Greater phenomena ! — -mine eyes grow dim, With gazing on these heights as we advance : Now all things seem enveloped in a trance, Save when at times the avalanche doth fall, Startling the ear ; still at a vast distance The masses of thick-ribbed ice appal The soul, as if they form'd the world's extremest wall ! 128 THE VIEW. VI. The prospect -lengthens : far and far beneath See cities, mansions, beautifully placed, While the smoke rises in a frequent wreath From cottages by greenest arbours graced. These, like man's proudest works, may be defaced By War's unsparing hand ; but yonder trees, Self-planted, by thick-woven shrubs embraced, They with their towering grandeur long will please : How can the spoiler's axe fell forests such as these ? VII. The buoyancy of spirits, the wild hope Of something undefinable, the joy Of giving thus to all my feelings scope, Feelings, which man's injustice can't destroy — These bring back former years, and I 'm a boy, Joyful as sailor in his bounding bark, Whose rapid course no sudden squalls annoy ; Wild as the stag that spurns his narrow park, Light as the young chamois ( b ), blythe as the moun- tain lark ! THE VIEW. 129 VIII. Is not the soul immortal ? Whence its thought ? Its constant aspirations after bliss ? Its vast capacity for good, if nought But a fortuitous element it is ? Away, nor preach a doctrine such as this ! For, by yon blessed sun-rise, there 's a road, Be but our faith unmoved, we cannot miss, That leads us to that ever-blest abode Where Mind perceives all things, not as here, thro' a cloud. IX. At Vevai lies our Ludlow ; there he dwelt, The patriot exile ; there he loved to roam ; There to the Father of all Mercies knelt : There Freedom woo'd him in her own sweet home, Presenting to his view an ample tome Wherein was writ (in characters how true) That an unyielding spirit doth become Man, when the many govern' d by the few Give to their masters praise that to their God is due. K 130 THE VIEW. X. Yes ! the fresh air that penetrates around Bids us think nobly ; mountains, too, sublime The soul ; the free-wing'd things that here abound, Tell us that passive virtue is a crime, When tyrants would destroy the work of time ! Gaze on ! thy feelings here will teach thee more Than doubtful legends, or than lying rhyme ; Gaze on, and Heaven's magnificence adore ! Does not thine heart exult now to its very core ? XI. But, gloomy Calvin, how couldst thou prevail ( c ) With thy dark doctrines, and ascetic pride, W T here the ripe harvest smiles along the vale, Where glows the vintage near Lake Leman's tide, And all was mirth and cheerfulness beside ? Why didst thou not to northern regions hie, Or in some dreary wilderness abide ? Why spread thy faith where Heav'n and earth deny The truths of thy heart-withering creed of destiny? THE VIEW. 131 XII. Yet Genius, eagle-eyed, has dared to raise The torch of truth on high, and here his few, His favour'd sons look'd up, with unblench'd gaze, On its eternal brightness ; those who knew The dignity of man, and prized it too. Alas ! to her, whose philosophic mind Show'd more than manly strength, a long adieu ! What, tho' her thoughts were somewhat too refin'd,( d ) She yet was Freedom's daughter — Pride of woman-kind ! XIII. Sweet wanderer ! art thou not happy now, Climbing the mountain steep with fairy feet, Thy cheeks carnation'd with health's vivid glow, Not flushing with the ball-room's impure heat ? Is not thy simple rural feast more sweet Than gorgeous suppers ? and the lovely things That court thy steps, companions far more meet For Nature's child, than those poor vain worldlings Who taint a woman's heart, then pierce it with their stings ? k 2 132 THE VIEW. XIV. Thou might'st a model to Canova be For young Diana, with thy steps of lightness ; And none of living sculptors, none save he, Could image forth thy look of angel brightness. His Psyche's scarce excels thy bosom's whiteness ! Such as thou art, all-beauteous, and all-fair, Oh, may's t thou never trust the world's politeness^ But always breathe with joy as pure an air, Fresh as is yon wild-flower, that shuns the sun's full glare. xv. Had man no other duties ( e ) he might live In yonder vale ; his second Paradise ; Enjoying all that pure content can give : And while he lives, be, without learning, wise, Winning by silent prayer his heavenly prize. But this must never be : he can't forsake His post, though stung by calumny and lies. No ! rather let him be the more awake ! Give back his foemen blows that he is forced to take. THE VIEW. 133 XVI. It is the lot of all to be reviled, And who can hope to 'scape that general lot ? Not I : the traitor-friend, who lately smiled And cringed before me, now remembers not Past favours ; what, are benefits forgot ? Ay more, ingratitude will cant, and hate, Hate, with his ready sponge, will quickly blot Out from the memory's tablet, sign or date Of friendship there ; and then hypocrisy will prate ! XVII. No matter ; tares will grow up with the wheat : And none but knaves deem all mankind the same- Though in society there be deceit, Yet there prevails the love of honest fame ; Still on her altars Friendship's holy flame Burns undiminish'd ; misanthropes may rail,. And sceptics smile, yet many could I name Whose generous zeal was never known to fail, Even in the hour of need, but then did most prevail. 134 THE VIEW. XVIII. The true friend's heart as yonder lake is calm ; Pure as yon snows, but firm as mountain rocks : His voice is as the glowing morn, a balm To the hurt mind that 's felt the world's rough shocks ; His looks as cheerful as the sun's bright locks : This high-soul' d being fearlessly will shield A falling brother from the scorner's mocks. Oh ! when the book of life shall be unseal'd, How gladly shall his name by Angels be reveal'd ! XIX. Evils there are ; but many self-created In this our busy world : why should we grieve And murmur at our destiny, when fated To be alone ? why should we learn to weave The web of thought too finely, to deceive Ourselves, not others ? still, where'er thou art, *Mid cities, or near cottages, relieve The poor man's wants, thou wilt perform thy part Well on the stage of life, and blunt e'en Envy's dart ! THE VIEW. 135 xx. Adieu, sweet country ! Of Helvetia's wrongs, Even in my childhood, have I thought, and wept. When the war-cry was heard where late the songs Of Innocence spread mirth around ; where slept The child securely ; where the goat-herd kept His flocks untroubled : then the spoiler came, Treading in innocent blood where'er he stept : Hell's horrid offspring — Anarchy his name ; Affecting Freedom's voice fair Freedom's cause to shame. XXI. Had France no Washingtons, Timoleons then, To point the way to Virtue's temple ? read The latest records of Corinna's pen,* And Gallia's woes will make thy bosom bleed. The plant she nourish'd was a poisonous weed ; Her friends were foes, none prized the golden mean; Each wild lawgiver had his separate creed ; All spoke in vain, the soldier rush'd between : Th' imperial consul's pomp then closed th' eventful scene. * Madame de Stael. 136 THE VIEW. XXII. All things have their alloy ; go southwards on, See Italy, with varied landscapes gay, A waste of sweets ; the sun ne'er shone upon A lovelier country with a brighter ray ; Her very winter's softer than our May; What are its natives now, but imps from hell Peopling a Paradise ? ( f ) though kinglings pray, Those who degrade the human mind, as well As Satan's self, 'gainst God's high purposes rebel ! XXIII. Great Loyola ! how well thy sons succeed, Dwarfing man's intellect to tread him down ! 'Tis not enough that he must toil and bleed To win for fellow-man, perchance, a crown : But Superstition scares him with her frown. Poor wretch ! to beg, to flatter, stab, or steal, (Such are the vices Jesuits spare,) alone He loves ; alas, to whom shall we appeal ? Oh! when will monarchs learn to prize the general weal? THE VIEW. 137 XXIV. Here is Religion, robed in rich attire, To please the eye, not meliorate the heart ; Her pageantries, her glittering shrines, inspire Devotion, in which morals have no part. Does God delight in works of human mart ? He heedeth not the labour of man's hands ; He loves a soul devoid of guile and art ; Fear him, and love him, honour his commands, But his all-perfect state no earthly pomp demands ! XXV. Quick are the Italian's feelings, prompt to wrong ; Why may they not be then alive to good ? In this sweet land of Music and of song, The powers of the mind cannot be rude. What then doth cause revenge and acts of blood ? The vivid spirit that delights the muse, Not the less willing when she's fiercely woo'd. Those impulses, how dangerous their abuse, Which when directed well heroic acts produce. 138 THE VIEW. XXVI. "Twas here the light of science first broke forth Amid the Gothic gloom of former ages ; Strange change ! that light's diffused throughout the earth. Yet Barbarism's evil genius rages E'en in a country long since famed for sages. Invasions, civil wars, the jealous strife Of princes, sully here the historian's pages. Awake, Italia' s sons, awake to life ; Throw off your foreign yoke, but scorn the inglorious knife. XXVII. Where Mind to marble gives a living grace — Where Music's inspiration's fully felt — Where Poetry all passions doth embrace In language form'd to rouse the soul, or melt — Where too the Muse of Painting long has dwelt ; — Can there be wanting courage-wakening men Who have not to imperial tyrants knelt ? Be what ye were in ages past again, Brave Milanese ( g ), the spoilers must re-seek their den. THE VIEW. 139 XXVIII. And he, who mid dark cypresses and urns,( h ) Mourns o'er the buried mighty ones, in verse Plaintive as nightingale's sweet song — he burns To avert from Lombardy's fair plains the curse Of foreign slavery; what plague is worse? In vain Bologna boasts her learned youth ; In vain Firenze is of arts the nurse; The prisoner hates the light ; and lovely truth, When seen and not embraced, heightens our woes in sooth. XXIX. But Leopold's kind genius yet presides O'er rich Etruria's gardens ; there is man Comparatively happy; there resides Smiling Content. Though short may be the span Of life, when princes do what good they can They live for ever, not in marble busts, While the poor subject's looks are pale- and wan, Not in some courtly verse that lauds their lusts, But in that general wealth the stranger ne'er distrusts. 140 THE VIEW. The exuberant produce Ceres here brings forth, (For here if husbanded she cannot fail,) Shows him at once the patriot monarch's worth. The numerous houses, studding hill and dale, The fattening olive with its leaves so pale, The cheerful peasantry, (for years must pass Ere laws that tend to improve mankind can fail In doing good, though scarce observed, alas !) Honour his memory more than monuments of brass. XXXI. I dream not of Utopias, nor a race Of patriot kings ; men may be better'd yet : If power be but administer' d with grace, Let monarchs shine in robes all gorgeous ; let The statesman boast his star and coronet : But as for those who first insult and scorn, Then catch within their Machiavelian net The freeborn mind, though diadems adorn Their brows, they hardly rank 'bove knaves ignobly born. THE VIEW. 141 Oh Italy ! rich in thy wood-cover'd mountains, Thy rainbow-crown'd falls, and their ever-green foun- tains ; Thy skies in the thunder-storms, even, are bright, With the rapid effulgence of rose-colour'd light ; Thy shores do embrace, with their vast arms, the deep, On whose blue tranquil bosom the sun loves to sleep ; While silvery mists round its islets are gleaming, And gauze-clouds along the horizon are streaming ; And Horace yet lives near his favourite hill ; (The delicate air breathes his poetry still ;) Thy temples decay ; still their ruins are seen, Half grey through old time, or with ivy half green ; The fig-tree, pomegranate, pinastre, and vine, The blossoming almond-tree's blushes, are thine : But thy heroes are dust, and thy spirit is fled, And the last of thy warriors, the White-Plumed, is dead ! 142 THE VIEW. XXXII. Amid rich orange-trees, whose beauteous fruit Glows like the western sun with deepen' d hue ; Where carelessly the southern plants up shoot, Their green contrasting to the sky's deep blue — Think ye to find Arcadian fables true ? Vain hope ! pale misery sallows every face, Yet still to Nature's works full praise is due : Oft in the peasant's wretched looks ye trace Some lineaments unspoil'd as yet of manly grace. XXXIII. Such were my thoughts when fast from Ischia's isle The little vessel bore me ; as the glare Of noon-day soften'd down itself awhile, A passing breeze o'er Baiae's bay so fair Gave a delicious fragrance to the air. Sunny Neapolis ! thy loveliness Of clime, thy fruitage, thy luxurious fare, Pamper thy sons with sensual excess; Thy daughters dream of nought save lustful wanton- ness ! THE VIEW. 143 xxxiv. Here all is strenuous idleness ! the hum Of men, like children bustling about nought : The bawling mountebank, and frequent drum, Are glorious substitutes for troublous thought ; While business is unheeded and unsought. Here to the last they whirl around ; the bier Bears to the grave some noisy trifler caught By death ; the world's epitome is here ; The sight provokes a smile, commingled with a tear ! xxxv. Give Italy one Master, she will thrive Again, and triumph in her countless stores : But bigots with their deadening influence drive Wealth from her lands, and commerce from her shores, While Heaven its choicest gifts in vain out-pours. When Monks, in locust-swarms, oppress the soil, When the vile spy of Government explores The people's wealth — the industrious will not toil To enrich their puny Masters with a greater spoil. 144 THE VIEW. XXXVI. Nor splendid portraitures, nor beds of state, Nor the rich ceiling's gay magnificence ; Nor sumptuousness of feasts, nor massy plate, Nor all the vain adornments of expense ; Nor marble statues, though Canova's, whence Beauty an almost breathing charm puts forth ; Nor heads of bronze, that seem inform'd with sense, Can give to sorrowing hearts a moment's mirth, Or soften down the pangs of care-worn sons of earth ! XXXVII. " Swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow," Thought doth pervade the universe ; we seem More than this world can circumscribe to know ; Yet is our life but one protracted dream — For moralizing fools an endless theme. He, whom gaunt evil smites — whose days, though few, In thought are numberless, he well may deem That under Heaven there is nought that's new, His sole delight at length fair Nature's scenes to view. THE VIEW. 145 XXXVIII. What is the pomp of art to him who loves On Chimborazo's height to breathe keen air ? (*) Or with a Humboldt fortunately roves Through forests deep ? — though all is savage there, Yet Nature seems to him for ever fair. As near the river's slow majestic course, Onward he roves, forgetful of past care ; His soul mounts up unto that very source Whence all existence springs, with an unusual force ! xxxix. Eternity — how wonderful it is ! A shoreless Ocean — nothing, every thing ! To be for ever what I shall be — this Far, far exceeds the mind's imagining, ( k ) Though it would soar for ever on the wing, To reach a Kepler's, Newton's height ! — 'tis vain : Yet some will dream of a perpetual spring : These dreams perchance may please a vacant brain,, But in our sober mood are soon abandon'd with disdain ! L 14G THE VIEW. XL. See Caesar baffled by a little state ! Such is the will of Him who doth command Empires to rise, decay, regenerate ; Who weigheth worlds as balls within His hand ; Whose wrath not Hell's fierce legions may withstand ; Who is enthroned in light, Ancient of Days ! The pure Intelligence, whose wisdom planned This universal frame. His be the praise ! Creatures of clay, to Him your loud thanksgivings raise ; XLI. The mind that well doth exercise its powers Shall to the perfect beauty be allied, (*) When, from this grosser frame released, it tower Above the reach of earth-born care or pride. Yet must it be through ages purified, Ere it can live near God's eternal throne ; Ere it can bask in glory's luminous tide ; That sun of suns, unmingled and alone, ( m ) Whose everlasting light on earth has never shone ! THE VIEW. 147 XLII. The God-head dwells with thee^ thou blessed one, Cowper, though some deride thy pious song, Too pure for them : — the sun of genius shone On thy immortal mind, that scorn'd the throng Of busy triflers, as they moved along, Fretting themselves with brain-born dreams, that mar Man's proudest hopes : to thy sweet verse belong Those soothing strains, that bid the violent jar Of passions cease, and still the bosom's inward war ! XLIII. Oh, could I seek at length those happy Isles Where 'tis a sensual pleasure even to breathe ; Where Nature in her classic livery smiles, And gives to Byron's muse a deathless wreath ; Where youth is life, age slumbers into death ; Where bowers to meditation dear abound ; Where glow the heavens above, the flowers beneath ; Where every nook is consecrated ground ; And songs of other times float in the air around ! l 2 148 THE VIEW. XLIV. Then might appear to me dear Liberty, (But in a dream,) — whole hosts before her driven : A sun-beam is her spear — she strikes, and see ( n ) Its touch consumeth like the burning levin — Or like a comet hurl'd to earth from heaven ! A fierce disdain is flashing from her eye. Thus look'd Apollo, when, asunder riven, The monster serpent writh'd in agony, Then all convulsed, at length expired with hideous cry ! XLV. She triumphs now ; a laureate band attend Her steps, while iEschylus awakes the lyre : Before her now the mighty masters bend : " A slave 's no man!" thus sings their Godlike Sire :* His strains the whole triumphant race inspire. O glorious sight ! — And is it all a dream ? No — no. Columbia has her souls of fire ; The dawning light of science there doth gleam, There Poets must arise, since Liberty 's the theme ! * Homer. NOTES ON " THE VIEW." ( a ) This little Poem (if such it may be called) was written in the Autumn of the year 1818, during a tour through Switzerland and Italy. ( b ) Light as the young chamois. The chamois is an animal remarkable for its activity in scouring along the craggy rocks, and in leaping over the precipices. It is a species of antelope, though Linnaeus has classed it in the goat genus under the name of rupi- capra or mountain-goat. — Coxe's Travels in Switzerland, Vol. I., Letter 29, Page 342-44, ( c ) But , gloomy Calvin, how couldst thou prevail ? Calvin was born at Noyon, in Picardy, in the year 1509. He first studied the Civil Law : afterwards retiring to Basil > 150 NOTES ON "THE VIEW." he turned his thoughts to the study of Divinity, and pub- lished there his Institutions, which he dedicated to Fran- cis I. He was made Professor of Divinity at Geneva, A.D. 1536. The year following he prevailed with the people to subscribe a confession of faith, and to renounce the Pope's authority ; but, carrying the matter a little farther than was agreeable to the Government, he was obliged to retire from Geneva, upon which he set up a French church at Strasburgh, in Germany, and was himself the first minister of it. But the town of Geneva inviting him to return, he came back thither in September 1541. The first thing he did was to settle a form of discipline and consistorial j uris- diction, and he gained himself many enemies by his inflex- ible severity in maintaining the rights and jurisdiction of his consistory. He was a person of great parts, indefati- gable industry, and considerable learning. He died in the fifty-sixth year of his age, in 1594. — Boughtons Dictionary, article Calvinists. ( d ) What, tho'her thoughts were somewhat too refined. I allude to Madame de Stael ; but more particularly to the Third Volume of her u Allemagne," and to her philo- sophical works. Her last ( Considerations sur les Prin- cipauoc Evenemens de la Revolution Francoise) has no theoretical refinements whatever. Her language is sober and correct, though sufficiently energetic ; and her ideas, if I may so express myself, quite English. NOTES ON '-THE VIEW.' 9 lol ( e ) Had man no other duties. a I cannot praise a fugitive and cloistered virtue, unex- ercised and unbreathed, that never sallies out and sees its adversary ; but slinks out of the race, where that immortal garland is to be run for, not without dust and heat."— Mil- ton's Speech for the Liberty of Unlicensed Printing. ( f ) What are its natives now, but imps from hell Peopling a Paradise ? This is the character an Italian gave me of his own coun- trymen. All are not such, however* Italy, trampled upon and degraded, still may possess many men of virtue and spirit; but, in the present state of things, what can they do towards ameliorating the condition of their countrymen ? " The victim by turns, of selfish and sanguinary factions, of petty tyrants, and of foreign invaders, Italy has fallen, like a star from its place in heaven ; she has seen her har- vests trodden down by the horses of the stranger, and the blood of her children wasted in quarrels not their own : Conquering or conquered, in the indignant language of her poet, still alike a slave ; a long retribution for the tyranny of Etome.' ? — Hallams View of the State of Europe during the Middle Ages, Vol. I. Page 255, (k) Be what ye were in ages past again , brave Milanese. The efforts which the Milanese made to resist the tyranny 152 NOTES ON "THE VIEW." of Frederic Barbarossa, may rival the noblest exertions of the Spartans or the Athenians. — See Sismondi Histoire des Republiques ltaliennes du Moyen Age, Tome ii. passim, ( h ) And he who mid dark cypresses and urns. Ugo Foscolo. See his u Carmede Sepolchri" and his " Lett ere di Jacopo Or Us" Q) On Chimborazo's height to breathe keen air. iC Thus, on the shore of the South Sea, after the long rains of winter, when the transparency of the air has sud- denly increased, we see Chimborazo appear like a cloud at the horizon ; it detaches itself from the neighbouring sum- mits, and towei*s over the whole chain of the Andes, like that majestic dome produced by the genius of Michael Angelo over the antique monuments which surround the Capitol/' — Humboldt's Researches, Vol. I. ( k ) Far far exceeds the mind's imagining. :t But, gracious God, how well dost thou provide For erring judgments an unerring guide ! Thy Throne is darkness in th' abyss of light, A blaze of glory that forbids the sight."— Dryden, NOTES ON « THE VIEW." 153 (!) Shall to the perfect beauty be allied. The first fair, and pulchritude itself." — St. Cyril. ( m ) That sun of suns, unming led and alone. O luce eterna, chesolain te sidi." — Dante, ( n ) A sun-beam is her spear — she strikes, and see. Chatterton has given this all-piercing weapon to Power. " Power wythe his heafod straught unto the skyes, Hys speere a sonne-bearae, and hys sheelde a starre." Chorus to Goddwyn, MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. INVITATION TO THE BANKS OF THE AVON. This is the balmy breathing- time of spring, All Nature smiles, and Mirth is on the wing; The sun is shining on this lovely scene, Gladd'ning with light the meadow's tender green, Studding the waters with its lustrous gems, More brilliant than ten thousand diadems. Beautiful Avon ! — how can I pourtray Thy varied charms, where'er thou wind'st thy way? Now through the sunny meads, — now in the glade Thou sleep'st, beneath the wood's o'er-arching shade. The " sedge-crown'd" Naiads, from their cool retreats. Welcome my loved one, with their gather'd sweets. — 158 INVITATION TO THE We cull'd these flowers at break of day. Take, oh, take them, lady fair ; Fresh in the light of the morning ray, They glisten on thy nut-brown hair, Merrily, merrily in the trees. The birds are merrily singing — While rose-buds are opening, And fruit-trees are blossoming. How clear — how musical Is yonder water-fall ! — Oh, God ! how glorious is the genial ray That issues from thy " Light of lights," to-day! Now seek we, my love, yon green-flourishing wood, That long in theatric luxuriance has stood, Where paths intersect its dank moss-cover'd steep, And above "s a turf gallery ample and deep. Their temples with ivy and oak-apples crown'd, See, the wood-nymphs advance, now they all dance around ; BANKS OF THE AVON. 159 Their leafy adornments now rustle and play With their light limbs as briskly they foot it away : Come— beneath yon bowering tree We 've prepared a couch for thee ; Such a couch was never seen Even by our chaste-eye'd queen ; Dione never laid her head On such a spring-embellish'd bed, Nor Galatea's bosom heaved Beneath a beech more richly leaved.— We have rifled of their flowers All the many-colour'd bowers, Sweet to us are thy beauties rare," But sweeter the scent of vernal air ; Sweet is Cytherea's breath, But fresher far is Flora's wreath. Thy voice, like the harp of Arion, may please, But give us the murmuring hum of the bees, 160 INVITATION TO THE By Pan, thou art a sylvan fairy> As light, as elegant, as airy ; With thy tresses loosely flowing, And thy well- turn' d ankles showing. Now we place a leafy vest O'er thy " gently-budding" breast ; While virgins bring their coronets Of pearls, and blue-vein'd violets, Showering flowers as is most meet, Before thy neatly-sandall'd feet ; And fragrance-breathing zephyrs bless Thy cheeks with passing freshness. . 'Xis night ! And Shakspeare, near this river, gazed upon The lovely moon, that now as softly smiles Upon the stream, as if Endymion Was bathing there ; — Shakspeare, the kindest, best Of casuists, who knew humanity, Nor deem'd the gravest the elect of Heaven ! — BANKS OF THE AVON. 161 See, there 's " high-graced" Oberon, Prince of fairy land, A moving throne he sits upon, The sceptre's in his hand. All-glorious his attire, With jewels powder'd o'er; Each with his silver lyre, The minstrels go before : — As dazzling in their cars, As numerous, as stars That in Cumana's clime Fall by thousands at a time ; With their winglets as profuse As the humming-bird's of hues ; The light-encircled queen Now trips along the green ; As beauteous as the rose, Which white lilies enclose. M ODE ON THE LAMENTED DEATH OF THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE OF WALES AND SAXE COBOURG. Ta pkv tear' olkovs £' 'EAAaSos alas ffwop/Aeyois Tlevdeia T\ir\ Friend to the poor, the fatherless, Friend to all virtue in distress ! But wherefore grieve we so ? There's selfishness in woe. Angels of love, with gratulations high, Welcome their sister-spirit to the sky: O ever-living bride ! all beauteous sprite ! With them thou dwell'st in everlasting light. Not her's the glare of royalty — The pride, or pomp of place ; But mild, domestic charity, And every winning grace. Yet death has dimm'd the lustre of her eyes ; In lifeless loveliness his victim lies ; Britannia, frantic, clasps her favourite's urn ; Wit, Virtue, Beauty, for their darling mourn. But through the royal house, No loud laments arise : 166 ODE ON THE DEATH OF Silence that loathes repose There stalks with tearful eyes, Ne'er may our querulous complaints intrude On the lone mourner's sacred solitude : The flower is broken from its stem, The ring has lost its only gem : Oh ! princely Claremont, wither'd be thy bowers ; Cold is the hand that cull'd thy fairest flowers : Like them, in bloom of youth she died ! Go, tell it to the house of pride — • Mock the self-loving fair — Go, whisper in the ear of kings, (While death aside the curtain flings And shows his victim there, Cold, voiceless, joyless, motionless — ) How vain is human happiness ! Away, away! it is not meet To view her in her winding-sheet : THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE. 167 I see her on her sapphire throne, A circling halo is her crown ; A halo of eternal light : How mild her features seem, and yet how heavenly bright I LINES TO THE MEMORY OF THE ILLUSTRIOUS CANOVA. Where is he now ? an awful question ! where ? ^Nlid spirits glorified in realms of light, Viewing angelic shapes more dazzling there, Than those which gave him while on earth delight : Such as appear'd unto his mental sight, When he would dare create, what Art alone Like his could realize, a goddess bright, A Hebe, or a Grace without her zone, Or all that poets dream of Beauty's queen, in stone. LINES ON CANOVA. 160 II. Whate'er of beautiful, high-minded Greece Imagined, from Canova's chisel sprung : And must that master-hand for ever cease To mould those forms so graceful and so young, In praise of which the mystic bards have sung ? Those forms, o'er which ideal loveliness Is, as it were, by touch ethereal flung ! That hand, which in cold marble could express All-perfect beauty, youth, eternal happiness ! in. His delicate Hebe almost seems to move : So light thy step, fair daughter of the skies ! Thou art the gentle power that waits on Jove : Thou art the flower of youth that never dies. Sure 'tis a spirit that delights our eyes ! But Pysche, a celestial lover's pride, With her sweet rival in proportion vies ; While beaming, like a twin-star at her side, Cupid, as finely wrought, clasps his life-giving bride. 170 LINES ON CANOVA. IV. O ! 'tis a super-human skill that turns To being such creations of the brain As the fond worshipper of fancy burns To paint in glowing colours, but in vain. Look on these breathing marbles — look again — ■ They are the visions of our youth brought forth, Though motionless, yet beautiful ! no stain Sullies their charms ; they are not of this earth, But pure,as when the bards' conceptions gave them birth. v. How o'er the sculptor's manly features play'd The light of genius, as with modest zeal He spoke of those immortal works survey'd By him, with raptures such as he must feel To whom Art loves her secrets to reveal. The Phidian fragments ! in decay sublime, Whence Art gives laws 'gainst which there's no appeal. Such were man's labours in the olden time, When freedom quicken'd thought, and a soul-waken- ing clime. LINES ON CANOVA. 171 VI. Yet in Canova's mind were nursed those fine Imaginings, that, but by few possest, We call, adoring their results, divine ; Since those who have them are indeed most blest Of mortal beings, far above the rest. The poetry of sculpture must be caught From Heaven : it gives a feeling unexprest When bodied forth, to those by Art untaught : 'Tis an ambrosial flame — the very soul of thought. December, 1822. VERSES ON NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. " Thy pomp is brought down to the grave, and the noise of thy viols : the worms are spread under thee, and the worms cover thee ; — How art thou cut down to the ground, which did weaken the nations!" Isaiah. He whom plumed victory placed upon her throne, The despot lord of Europe, he is gone ! Whose power, whene'er its death-flag was unfurl' d, Breathed out destruction o'er a trembling world : All irresistible, it seem'd to bind, As with a magic spell, th' o'ermaster'd mind. Cradled amid the storms of war, the child Of anarchy fought well, and fortune smiled. The consul would be emperor, inthroned He play'd the tyrant ; France obey'd, and groan'd. VERSES ON NAPOLEON. 173 Ambitious self-destroyer ! grasping all, 'Till nations burst indignant from their thrall ; 'Till the insulted master of the North Awoke, and sent his hardy legions forth. The mighty warrior flies, his men are lost, Their strength avails not 'gainst a Scythian frost. Baffled ambition scorns to feel : he eyed Their stiffening corpses with a sullen pride, Cursing his fallen star, that rose again Terrific to his foes, and not in vain ; 'Till England with her lion-banner's might Check'd the imperial eagle's second flight. What were his feelings when an exile, far From his once glorious theatre of war ? Fame, conquest, empire vanishing — what left ? Life : but of all that gave him life bereft. Unpitied, since he laugh'd at others' woe, And hated as an unrelenting foe. 174 VERSES ON With him were feasible, so vast his schemes, Such plans as please a madman in his dreams. As a high- crested dragon with his wings Beats foemen down, he smote the pride of kings. Self was his idol, self; 'twas nought to him If thousands fell, so he might please his whim. Was he a spirit sent to scourge mankind For vice ? to dazzle them till they were blind ? As potent as the magic shield of old,* Withering the strength of all who dared behold. He hated converse : his o'erweening pride Taught him man's social pleasures to deride : Men were his instruments, and he could have Nothing in common with them but a grave. As wave succeeding wave breaks on the shore, Tyrants o'erleap their bounds and are no more. * This wonderful shield belonged to Atlante, but afterwards was possessed by Ruggiero See Ariosto, Canto 2. NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 175 His course was rapid, he has pass'd away, In time's vast book a tale of yesterday ; And he who held the proudest kings in awe Of his imperious will, to them a law, Now lies alone in a far distant isle ! Well might philosophy at grandeur smile. The ill Napoleon did we all well know, Each day the good he might have done, will show. Through him Italia might again have been Renown'd in arms as she 's of arts the queen ; Nor would the Austrian fox have dared by stealth To snatch, though now he rudely takes her wealth. The cloud of selfishness will ne'er decrease That glooms the prospect of a lasting peace, 'Till Christian kings the Christian maxim heed : God never doom'd mankind to crouch and bleed. OX THE DEATH OF A FRIEND. Bat thou art fled Like some frail exhalation which the dawn Robes in its golden beams ; ah, thou hast fled, The brave, the gentle, and the beautiful! The child of grace and beauty. Shelley. Thy wooded hills, Firenze, castle crown d, In beautiful luxuriance rise around : What sweetly-blended hues enchant the sight As the sun 'gins to soften down his light ! On houses, olives, vineyards, crags, he glows, All Nature woos him as he smiles repose. The purple-coloured Apennines appear Like fairy-mountains painted in the air : While o'er the fertile vale, where Arno flows, The queen of beauty's sacred myrtle grows. ON A FRIEND'S DEATH. 177 O ! what is love by poets deified, Compared with friendship in all dangers tried ? Gonzalvo to his Lara could not be A firmer friend than Henry was to me. Could not this balmy clime restore his health, Where Nature boon has lavish' d all her wealth ? Alas ! Consumption gives a sickly hue To wood-crown'd hills, rich vales, and skies of deepest blue. Busy Remembrance ! why call up in vain Those happy nights, that ne'er will come again, When in our mock-debates young Henry's mind Show'd a ripe judgment, and a taste refined ! Florence, October 2. WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM AT CHAMOUNI. Though I might visit scenes which show The littleness of pride ; Mountains whose heights, o'ertopped with snow, Man's venturous foot deride ; Though on the master-works of art Intensely I might gaze, 'Till words do but express in part The fulness of amaze ; Or as o'er ashes of the mighty dead, With mixed belief and doubtfulness, I tread, — Still, England, still my mind will dwell On thee, and those I love as well ! TO MY INFANT CHILD. Sleep, my sweet child, within thy mother's arms, And Heaven protect thy future years from harms ! From throngs of passions that assail the best : From friendship violated ; love unblest ; From fashion's honours purchased at the price Of health, vain honours, oft allied to vice. Sleep on, sweet Julia, at thy mother's breast ; Thy proper nurse is watching o'er thy rest : She gazes on thee with an anxious eye, And meditates thy future destiny. On earthly things have angels ever smiled? On one— the mother bending o'er her child. n 2 180 TO AN INFANT CHILD. Rich is the flower's perfume, sweet girl, to thee ; Richer in fragrance shall the musk-rose be, When the young world may open to thy view, And nature's charms, too soon forgot, are new. Long be thy mother's fair attractions thine ; To talent, sense — to beauty, virtue join ; To unaffected sprightliness add ease ;- — Coquettes may smile, but these will ever please. Great Spirit of the universe, protect This child, and may she ne'er thy works neglect ; But trace in lowliest weeds thy hand divine, As true, as in yon glorious orbs that shine. TO THE MEMORY OF COLLINS. Great Bard, to thee belong The spirits of the mystic song. Thou hast found, 'bove all thy race, Sweet Poesy's most hallow'd place : Where sunbright beings, veil'd from sight. To thee alone reveal their light. In fancy's cell, in midnight storm, Each passion has its proper form. Glaring amid the gloom of night, The foaming flood gave thee delight ; But ah ! the softness of thy lay, Is mild as summer-close of day, When o'er Fidele's grassy tomb Thou scatterest flowers of earliest bloom. 182 TO THE MEMORY OF COLLINS. Xo self- complaint thy mind reveals. But solely for another feels : Though it has suffer'd deep distress, How exquisite its tenderness ! Since pity, peace, and mercy, seem, In sooth, to be thy frequent theme ; And love, that royal shepherds know, In climes where brighter suns do glow. Bard of the East ! a poet sweet As thee, we ne'er again may greet. Where does thy gentle spright abide All-seeing fancy by its side ? Where sky-born forms are flitting near. To charm it through " th' eternal year; NOTHING. " Doth any man doubt, that if there were taken out of men's minds, vain opinions, flattering hopes, false valuations, imaginations as 'one would,' and the like, but it would leave the minds of a number of men, poor shrunken things, full of melancholy and indisposition, and unpleasing to themselves V s Bacon. What wild ambitious schemes The ripen'd man engage ? To love's delusive dreams Succeed the plans of age. The smiles of beauty lose Their sweet attractive power, And Pleasure vainly woos The statesman to her bower. Youth, manhood, and old age, have each their vice, First lust, ambition next, then avarice. 184 NOTHING. Some mount on high like rockets, That blaze, then die away ; And folly loves to mock its Votaries for a day. Or Juans, or Napoleons, 'tis the same — The slaves of passion are the fools to fame. " To-morrow and to-morrow" Have momentary joys ; Men never think that sorrow Can rob them of their toys. Or death — they heedless hear the passing bell ; Where be his fond conceits for whom it tolls a knell ? VERSES WRITTEN IN STONELEIGH PARK, The rudest trunk by Nature's hand that 's wrought, May teach us more than ever sage has taught : Ye patriarchal oaks, that mock the span Of man's existence — (miserable man!) Ye teach me this, that even in decay Ye thrive, when the proud mind is worn away. Ye richly-foliaged woods, that seem but one, Girding yon uplands with your emerald zone, Ye tell me, there 's analogy between Youth's liveliness, and your most cheerful green. When the light plays upon your leaves, we glow Witb inward joy ourselves ; I feel it now. 186 VERSES, &c. When sombre shades the brightest hues displace. Steals o'er our hearts their " melancholy grace." Tis the bard's golden chain that seems to bind Nature's best energies with those of mind ; For when Creation's wonder-works we see, We feel within us the Divinity ! Whence springs this holy feeling ? from delight In looking up to God through works so bright ! Here might Zeluco for a moment feel (But for a moment) a religious zeal. Thus Satan gazed on Paradise awhile, And half forgot his hate, revenge, and guile* LINES WRITTEN AT ROME, We need not fear, in these enlightened times, Hildebrand's power, or Alexander's crimes : Or that fierce Pope,* unspiritual lord Of Roman faith, who grasp'd the temporal sword. But here is Superstition's last strong hold : Still here, release from Purgatory 's sold ; And here the women, pious in their way, At noon read Casti,t though at eve they pray : How eloquent their looks ; beneath the lashes Of their dark eyes the soul of passion flashes ! m * Julius II. ■j- Cast i, a profligate writer, author of certain " Nouvelle," as Forsyth says, " too excellently wicked." 188 LINES WRITTEN AT ROME. Alternately they read their prayers, and paint Now woo a lover, now invoke a saint ! Such are the Portias, the Cornelias, now, So well is heeded here the marriage vow. November, 1818. TO THE REV. W. W. ON THE BIRTH-DAY OF HIS DAUGHTER, This is indeed to all a lovely morn : But chief to thee, for on this day was born Thy lovely daughter, lovelier with a mind, O think I flatter not, how pure, refined ! Pure as the dreams of holiest saints, and mild As the soft slumbers of an infant child. Yet 'tis possest of wisdom, wit, and sense : Her eyes beam forth that mind's intelligence. Thy smiles paternal, faintly tell us now What genuine raptures in thy bosom glow. The fulness of delight is scarce exprest By words ; we only see that thou art blest. DIVES LOQUITUR. IN IMITATION OF A GREAT POET. "Ecce iterum Crispinus." I. Had I the wit of Newstead's noble bard, I 'd sacrifice it all, again to be The child I was, when on that smooth green sward I drove my hoop along with mickle glee, Or climb'd, with eager haste, yon cherry-tree. Happy are they who need not e'er regret The long-past days of careless infancy ; Whom friends have ne'er betray' d, nor knaves beset. Who never have been caught in woman's subtle net. DIVES LOQUITUR. 191 II. Of this enough, — the storm has ceased to rage ; 1 live — but how, it matters not, — I live — " All, all is vanity" — thus spoke the sage : Yet there remains one pleasure — 'tis to give. With some, 'tis pouring water through a sieve : An endless folly, an excessive waste : To feed their drones, these lordlings rob the hive ; They waste their wealth on fools or dames unchaste ; Or gems, or jewels rare — these children "have a taste." in. Dives had feasts at home, and many came To see the strange inventions of the night ; Minstrels were in his halls, resembling flame — The colour of their robes was e'en as bright ; Ladies were clad in silk, all lily white, While Burgundy, from golden goblets pour'd, Freshen'd the heart of man with new delight, And boon companions gather'd round his board, Pledging the frequent health of their all-liberal lord. 192 DIVES LOQUITUR. IV. But what is Dives now ? — a misanthrope — A snarling cynic, basking in the sun : O'ercharged with lust, he gave his passion scope ; A self-tormentor, now his course is run, Mingling with fellow men, yet loving none. Divine Charissa calls on him in vain — " Thoughfools haverobb'd thee, do not therefore shun The sad retreat of penury and pain." Sullen he stalks apart, and eyes her with disdain. v. " What wert thou born for, denizen of earth? To laugh and grieve as suits thy wayward will ? Scoffer — the soul will have a second birth ; — Awake the song — the sparkling goblet fill — Drown, in thy wine, all thoughts of future ill. There is another world !" " Then be it so — Of this already, have I had my fill !" — " This will not save thee — this fantastic woe : Thou knowest not, wretched man, where thou art doom'd to go !" LINES WRITTEN ON SEEING THE BODIES OF TWO BEAUTIFUL WOMEN, CAST AWAY NEAR MILFORD. (IN IMITATION OF COLERIDGE.) A dreary waste of snows around O'er-spread th' inhospitable ground ; — The storm-blast scarce had ceased to roar, There lay two corpses on the shore. Thou, pamper'd lecher, come and see These shapes, so oft embraced by thee : — What — does it shame thee ? — look again — These were once women, ay, and vain ; Rock-bruised and mangled now, they seem More horrid than a ghastly dream. 194 IMITATION OF COLERIDGE. Now kiss their livid lips, and bless Their fragrant stench, sweet rottenness. The gay gold rings bemock their fingers, Where not one trait of beauty lingers ; But, like the shrivell'd star-fish, lie Their hands in sand, all witheringly. We start to see this loathsome clay, Uncofiin'd, rotting fast away ; Yet, we can bear the noisome pest, Vice, gathering, black'ning in the breast. TRUE LOVE. i. 'Tis sweet on Truth's high vantage-ground to stand And gaze on men below, in mazes lost Of error ; sweet it is to break the wand Of juggling Comus, battling 'gainst a host Of frightful passions ; or when tempest-tost To reach, by unexpected chance, the port ; Sweet 'tis to have a Claude though much it cost ; Sweet to the honest heart's the rustic's sport ; Sweetest is woman's love when 'tis of good report, o2 196 TRUE LOVE. To share each other's joys, to live indeed In our own little world of happiness, With interchange of thought as time may need ; To brighten fancy; make our troubles less; To give and to return the kind caress ; To visit distant realms, not both unknown ; To be each other's help-mates in distress ; To laugh through mutual aid at fortune's frown ; Such were a bliss, indeed, which few can call their own y^K\ i ENGLAND. . i. What are Helvetia's woods, Ausonia's bowers, Compared with England's home-attractions ? Rove Where'er we may, we waste away those hours That sure were better spent with friends we love. Such as the royal casuist ( a ) might approve. But England has her beauties, her green fields ; Her rising grounds o'ertopp'd with many a grove ; The wealth her land so prodigally yields, That yet from violent hands the arm of justice shields, 198 ENGLAND. II. And thou, Charissa, with thy smiling train Of infants, in this island art renown'd ; Let others sing the dark-eyed maids of Spain, ( b ) Here beauty's modest gracefulness is found ; Here love domestic is by valour crown' d : Ah ! happy isle, where Faction vainly roars : Her wild war-cry we heed not ; we are sound : With flag reversed, rebellion quits our shores. And peace exulting smiles, and virtue God adores. in. " Whatever is, is best : J " the blasts from hell Of irreligion cannot shake the tree Of knowledge, that in our blest isle has well Driv'n deep its roots ; the true philosophy Is Christian faith, from superstition free. England of Heaven asks no miraculous voice To silence foul-mouth/ d infidelity. No ! in the gospel-truths her sons rejoice : That worship must be pure, where reason points the choice. ENGLAND. 199 IV. What mighty minds have here conjointly raised An altar to their Maker ; there up-piled The gifts of truth and eloquence amazed Surrounding nations ; gentle as a child Was Newton, Cowper as a seraph mild ! Yet were they champions of the faith, and kept The ark of their religion undefiled. Here never has Devotion's genius slept, Nor o'er her broken fanes meek Piety has wept. v. Those who do fear it, always hate the light. Let man but know his duties, he pursues His proper good ; 'tis only in the night Of ignorance, that uncertain are his views, That ( c ) Cleons his most credulous heart abuse. But learning's like Ithuriel's spear, and shows Impostures stripp'd of all their borrow'd hues. What is the fruitful source of human woe ? The fear lest men become too wise the more they know. 200 . ENGLAND. VI. Vain fear ! before Religion's rising sun The fogs of Superstition break away. Let sophists to the den of error run And hide them from the intellectual ray That this " best sun" sheds forth on us to-day. Though tyrants dread opinion, 'tis the base Of every government, its only stay. Good God ! what crimes the moral world disgrace, ( d ) When prejudice would drive right reason from its place! VII. Are not the gifts of eloquence and wealth, Beauty and talent, easily abused ? Thus into minds not guarded well, by stealth The poison of false doctrine is infused. E'en freedom has been, often is, misused ! Yet by instruction man is raised here High in the scale of being, not amused With grovelling joys, but panting for a sphere Where mind shall live with mind through Heaven's " eternal year." ENGLAND. 201 VIII. As rushing whirlwinds 'mid the stagnant air, ( e ) In eastern climates, suddenly arise — Thus slaves whom passions prompt, or fell despair, Rush on their despot-master. Lo ! he dies. How weak the state which terror guards, or lies ! But when fair mercy, justice, truth support The throne, let statesmen ope the people's eyes; Their knowledge is as an unshaken fort To which 'gainst all attacks the monarch might resort. IX. Let others fashion works that charm the eye And please the moral taste ; we cannot strive In these with Greece and Italy to vie — We teach the master-science how to live. Long may our dear, dear country's glories thrive ; May never pestilence consume her strength; may God Far, far away domestic discord drive : But, must we bow beneath his chastening rod, Ne'er may the rebel's bones rest 'neaih his father 's sod. NOTES ON f - ENGLAND. ( a ) Such as the royal casuist might approve. Hamlet. — Give me the man that is not passion's slave, and I will wear him in my heart's core; ay, in my heart of hearts, as I do thee. — Shakspeare. ( b ) Let others sing the dark-eyed maids of Spain. See Lord Byron's Childe Harold, Canto the First. ( c ) That Cleons his most credulous heart abuse. Cleon was the low demagogue of Athens — See Thucyd. lib. 3. ( d ) Good God! what crimes the moral world disgrace. L'Auteur du Raoud-ai-rakhiar rapporte que Mahomet a predit que son peuple ou sa religion periroit par deux choses, par Tignorance et par Pavarice. D'Herbelot, article, Gehel. NOTES ON ENGLAND. 203 ( e ) As rushing whirlwinds mid the stagnant air. If we have any doubt of the dreadful evils arising from the ignorance of the people, let us turn to the page of his- tory, let us look to the crusade against the unoffending Al- bigenses, the convulsions that happened at Paris (equalled only in atrocity by the enormities of the late Revolution,) during the unhappy reign of Charles VI. to the private wars, and deadly feuds that, during the middle ages, deso- lated Germany and Scotland, and then (unless we are bigots, or knaves,) we shall be convinced of the necessity of enlightening the people. It is the Cardinal de Retz who says, that the lower orders are suspicious. They are so, indeed, since they have always been deceived ! c( Is the limit of human wisdom to be estimated in the science of politics alone by the extent of its present attainments ? Is the most sublime and difficult of all arts, the improve- ment of the social order, the alleviation of the miseries of the civil condition of man, to be alone stationary, amid the rapid progress of every art, liberal and vulgar, to perfec- tion?" " The convictions of philosophy insinuate them- selves by a slow, but certain progress into popular senti- ment. It is vain for the arrogance of learning to condemn the people to ignorance, by reprobating superficial know- ledge. The people cannot be profound; but the truths which regulate the moral and political relations of man are at no great distance from the surface." — Mackintosh's Vin- dicice Gallicce,^. 110-123. STEEPHIXJL Und azzled now by fashion's meteor-blaze, The quiet joys of life I '11 learn to praise ; With Waller dwell mid myrtle shades, or find, With Wordsworth, mighty spirits in the wind. Oh ! 'tis a glorious privilege to be The child of nature, and her charms to see : Yon isle-engirting ocean, and the sky O'er the green waves a cloudless canopy : The stars by night, the fiery-wheeled throne By day, its after-splendours, when 'tis gone ; The jutting cliffs, the winding shores, the caves Hollow' d within the rocks by frequent waves ; Vast in themselves, yet magnified by thought, (Compared with these, man's noblest works are nought;) The rock-embosom'd underwood that creeps, Rich with autumnal colours, up the steeps. STEEPHlLLu 205 And many have been wanderers here, who now Live with their God ! from yonder mountain's brow They gazed upon the rising sun, that cheer'd Nature and them ; they now have disappear'd ! But, near the fountain's self of heavenly light, Gaze on more splendid scenes with more intense delight. There all those hopes they cherish'd while on earth Are realized, — how pure man's second birth ! They, by the living waters evermore, Seeing and knowing all things, God adore. We tread the same dull round from year to year ; Though the scene shifts, the actors re-appear, Dull in each other's eyes, press on, and die, With " Vive la bagatelle /" the expiring cry, Here, shelter'd from life's troublous storms, we roam, And store up many an anecdote for home ; Here feel that, unembarrass'd by the crowd, We may, inglorious idlers, think aloud ! EXTEMPORANEOUS LINES WRITTEN AT MIDDLETON, THE SEAT OF THE EARL OF JERSEY. For sure in all In' enchanted ground, Of Paradise, there are not found The fountain-brinks of Rocnabay, Mosella's bowers, with roses gay. Translation of Hajiz. The spoils of nations here collected, seem To realize an eastern poet's dream : Gold, gems, and ivory, with rich inlay, Urns, vases, books, magnificently gay, Embroider'd couches, golden lamps, and all That Pride would choose for Beauty's festival, With intermingling hues fatigue the sight, And " dazzle with their luxury of light." Nursed in the sunshine, orange trees unfold Their leaves of emerald, and their fruit of gold. EXTEMPORE LINES, 207 Exotics fling their exquisite perfume, prom grand conservatories, through the room, Where sits the fair Sultana of the place, And to Zenobia's wealth adds Hebe's grace. The glorious day-god cheers (what could he less?) With vivid rays this seat of loveliness. April 17, 1820. PSEUDO-PATRIOTISM. How few there are who do deserve The Patriot's laurel-crown ; Who never from their duty swerve, Or lose their high renown. A traitor's name doth stain the fame Of Wallenstein the brave ; The honours which he could not claim Adorn his rival's grave.* Rienzi, thou didst promise well, But hast be tray' d thy trust ; Yet ! when the traitor-tribune fell, His death was surely just. * The great Gustavus Adolphus. STANZAS ADDRESSED TO THE SEA, WRITTEN IN AUGUST, 1824. The sea is like a silvery lake, And o'er its calm the vessel glides Gently, as if it feared to wake The slumber of the silent tides. Moore. I. Soft as a seraph's look, the calm blue sea Smiles with surpassing loveliness ; how dear This glorious element is to the free ! The spirit-stirring waves, now hush'd, appear With broken sunbeams, or suffused, or clear, Glassing the weeds fantastic — Nature's waste. Now ruffled by the rising breeze they near The shore, and course each other down in haste ! The bubbling cup of pleasure thus bemocks us while we taste. p 210 STANZAS TO THE SEA. II. There's in our minds an overpowering sense Of grandeur, as we view the sea, that far Exceeds in depth those feelings, though intense, With which we contemplate the brightest star That heralds Cynthia in her full orb'd car. The sea, coeval with th' eternal past, While element with element waged war, Ere yet the pillars of the earth stood fast, Roll'd o'er the dark abyss immeasurably vast. in. Then light through darkness shot its vivid ray, Then waves subsided, mountains rose above ; Then splendid in his rising, as to-day, The God of gladness brighten'd hill and grove, And all Creation glow'd with roseate love. But chiefly the great Ocean, o'er whose face The spirit of its God began to move, While yet it bluster'd through unmeasured space, Gloried within its bounds to feel the sun's embrace. STANZAS TO THE SEA. 211 IV, A varied mass of congregated cloud, Purple and blue and red, th' horizon round Floats o'er the waters, seemingly to shroud Some fairy Isle where beauteous fruits abound ; Where hills uprise by golden castles crown'd ; Whence elfin knights come forth in proud attire, And lovely fays, whose feet scarce touch the ground : But soon these beings of the brain expire, When the disparting clouds unveil a sea of fire. v. The sun is sinking fast, and now is gone The vaporous enchantment ; the wide main Reflects from clouds pavilioning the throne Of light, that still most beautiful remain, An orange hue, which to depict, 'twere vain ! These are faint shadows of those glorious sights Which we shall see, when free from grief or pain, We traverse planets where unbodied sprights For ever will enjoy ineffable delights. p2 212 STANZAS TO THE SEA. VI. The Bard* of Asti view'd the sea, and wept, So strong were his emotions to behold Its might ; as yet his sun-like genius slept. 'Till roused by call of passion uncontroird: Like to the lightning's flash which clouds unfold Amid a thunder-storm — through floods of tears It threw a momentary ray ; the bold Promise of splendour that in after years Blazed in his verse ; it still the sons of freedom cheers. VII, Home of the brave and free — for such thou art. Thou proudly-swelling Ocean ! how thy waves Delighted Athens once, whose lion-heart Despised the self-will'd tyrant's glittering slaves ! Baffled in all his hopes, Power vainly raves. Now like a giant rising after sleep Refresh' d, Colombia wakes to life, and braves Her late tyrannick mistress ; o'er the deep The sons of Commerce now fresh harvests hope to reap. * s ee Note page 215. STANZAS TO THE SEA. 213 VIII. O'ershadow'd by monopoly's dark wings, Colombia languished long, but now no more — And many a vessel, richly-freighted, brings Her wealth triumphantly to Chili's shore ; Returning homewards with the wondrous store That nature in the country doth pour forth From her horn bursting with its fulness o'er ; Thus though proud kings unite from South and North, Freedom unshaken smiles, and vindicates her worth. IX. Thou vasty deep ! what treasures lie conceal'd Within thy caverns, coral-paved, below The plummet's reach, that ne'er shall be reveal'd 'Till the dread Angel his last tromp shall blow, Then all will Nature's secret wonders know ; But they, beheld, must disappear, and melt Away with fervent heat, nor ebb, nor flow Of mighty waters shall be seen or felt : No vestige will remain of lands where man hath dwelt. 214 STANZAS TO THE SEA. x. And shall this Ocean that compared might be (If aught the perishable world can have Liken'd unto it. ) with eternity. Be lost at once, as is a single wave That breaks upon the beach ? this greedy grave Of shatter'd navies, shall it ever cease To gorge its victims while fierce tempests rave ? Whate'er the great Creator wills, with ease He can perform ; build worlds, destroy them, if he please. XI. Heaven. Earth, and Ocean perish ; but the soul Survives, through ages after ages blest. Burning for knowledge, where new Planets roll Twill wing its flight : here oft by care deprest The mind for wisdom loses all its zest. But loosed from earth, all-seeing it will pass Through boundless space, or contemplate at rest Things which it darkly sees as through a glass : While ic cabin d. cribb'd. confined'' within its fleshly mass ! STANZAS TO THE SEA. 215 XII. What other worlds interfluent among, Oceans may swell and roar, 'tis vain to think. Such themes befit not a poor mortal's song. Imagination leads us to the brink Of a vast precipice ; we well might shrink In gazing on the great obscure beneath. There all is fathomless — the closest link Of thought is broken by conjecture's breath, When mind attempts to soar above the depths of death! * Al fieri. — When this great poet first saw the sea, he could not describe the emotions which the sight of it excited in him, and therefore he gave vent to his feelings in tears. VERSES TO BERNARD BARTON. Unlike indeed the meteor light That dazzles to betray, Thou art a star to bless our sight, And lead us on our way. Mild are the breathings of thy lyre, Thou gentle Bard, yet strong Thy verse, whene'er thy " muse of fire' To Heaven directs her song. Thou hast not drunk, as others have, From pleasure's poison'd chalice ; Nor dost thou, misanthropic, rave Against imagined malice. TO BERNARD BARTON. 217 How stainless thy poetic wreath ! How beautiful its hue ! Unsullied by the world's gross breath. It looks for ever new. WILLERSLEY. Through winding vales the peaceful Derwent steals, And shuns the sunshine that its course reveals ; Hid among woods, it calmly glides along : Here let me learn to scorn the busy throng. Trees (how majestical !) along the glade Give "boundless contiguity of shade;" Sheltered beneath their umbrage, let me rove, In paths which sacred are to peace and love — Where Rasselas might find content at last — Where e'en his happy valley is surpast — Where dimpling cheeks and laughing eyes express (If true on earth, there only) happiness. WILLERSLEY. 219 See, woods along the rocky steep Magnificently rise ; How graceful is the mountain's sweep ! How beautiful the skies ! E'en the projecting crags are dight In the rich hues of morning light ! While Willersley is Cromford's boast,* Can Paradise be wholly lost? The tangled shrubs creep o'er yon distant hills, Whose soil more rugged seems; and there, 'Mid giant stones uncouth and bare, Leap out unnumbered rills. Their course the lively waters take Through clefts, as lizards thrid the brake ; * Willersley is the seat of Richard Arkwright, Esq. It is situated on a beautiful eminence about a mile from Matlock, just above the romantic village of Cromford. 220 W1LLERSLEY, Or where dark precipices frown, Rush with collected fury down. How sparkling are the streams ! how bright The glorious falls where they unite ! Where trees, fantastically wove, Form a green canopy above ! And then the spray, that dews the bower Above, descends a cloud-like shower ; There 's contrast too of light and shade, As sun-beams the recess invade. The wild fern well becomes its place ; The brushwood has luxuriant grace. Tradition says that yon bold rocks Were shiver'd by an earthquake's shocks ; For nature's mighty agents here Work out their wonders far and near. Spirits of air and water, ye Act with portentous energy. WILLERSLEY. 221 Whether ye seek the cavern's gloom, Or roar within the mountain's womb ; And broken crags and harden'd weeds Are proofs of your miraculous deeds ! VITTORIA COLONNA. ( a ) Questa e la gloriosa e gran Madonna, Che senza pari al mondo, e del suo sesso L'honor sovran Vittoria Colonna ; Che'l nome fuo sopra le stelle ha messo; Vittoria che celeste 6 mortal donna Dubita il mondo di nomarla spesso ; Vittoria che piangendo il suo marito Non men ella di lui si mostra a dito. Bernardino Mardrano. Divine Colonna! boast of Leo's days ! Rival of Petrarch in thy gentle lays ! Pride of a princely house, unmatch'd for fame ! ( b ) Pescara's noble wife ! most glorious dame ! These were thy titles, fair Vittoria, thine A heart Devotion deem'd its purest shrine : Thou sang'st (instead of culling fancy's wreath) Thy husband's virtues, and thy Saviour's death. VITTORIA COLONNA. 223 When fair Ausonia's sons were bathed in slaughter. And Christian blood o'erflow'd the land like water ; When poets, mindless of their glorious trust, ( c ) Deck'd with gay flowers the hoary head of Lust, Thy pious Muse look'd heaven-ward, or with zeal Urged warring states their mutual wounds to heal. Vittoria, like a heaven-descended spright, Wander'd on Arno's banks at hush of night With Him, the master-spirit of an age Fertile in great ones, — Poet, Sculptor, Sage ! And pointing upwards to the deep blue sky. (How beautiful thy star-light, Italy !) " There is stability alone," she said ; " There, Buonarotti, when thy glories fade, W T hen e'en thy works shall perish, thou shalt live ; The bent to genius let Religion give. What thy vast mind has imaged, that thy hand Has bodied forth in sculpture, truly grand. 224 VITTORIA COLONNA. O wondrous Man ! adore th' eternal Source Of genius with thy souFs intensest force ! Should such a mind from its Creator turn, Devils might well rejoice, and angels mourn. Let truths tremendous on thy canvas dwell, ( d ) Or joys celestial, or the woes of hell ; Thus may'st thou fortify the good, and make The wicked at thy painted terrors quake. Masterly done ! thy giant forms o'erawe The soul ! — the Jewish Leader's look is law : Trembling I gazed upon that look ; I felt Such inward veneration, that I knelt. The Persian feels such awe-commixt delight, When sunbursts 'mid the storms break out so bright. Many will strive to copy (vain their will !) This great exemplar of creative skill. God's mightiest prophet lives in marble ! View Thy work, grand Architect, and own it true." Rome. November, 1818. NOTES ON VITTOR1A COLONNA. ( a ) Vittoria Colonna* Vittoria Colonna was the daughter of the celebrated com- mander Patrizio Colonna, grand constable of the kingdom of Naples, by Anna di Montefeltro, the daughter of Frede- rigo, Duke of Urbino. She married Ferdinando d'Avalos, Marquis of Pescara, who died at Milan of his military fa- tigues, after a short but glorious life. " This fatal event/' (says the learned and elegant biographer of Leo the Tenth) " blighted all the hopes of his consort; nor did her sorrow admit of any alleviation, except such as she found in ce- lebrating the character and virtues of her husband, and re- cording their mutual affections in her tender and exquisite verse. She was a warm admirer of the great artist Michael Agnolo (Angelo,) who executed for her several excellent pieces of sculpture. She devoted her poetical talents chiefly to sacred subjects. Her exemplary conduct, and the un- common merit of her writings, rendered her the general theme of applause among the most distinguished poets and Q 226 NOTES ON learned men of the time, with many of whom she maintain- ed a friendly epistolary correspondence. Michael Agnolo addressed to her several sonnets. Among the Italian writers who have revived in their works the style of Pe- trarca, Vittoria Colonna is entitled to the first rank ; and her sonnets, many of which are addressed to the shade of her departed husband, or relate to the state of her own mind, possess more vigour of thought, vivacity of colouring and natural pathos, than are generally to be found among the disciples of that school. Her verses in ottava rima ex- cel the productions of any of her cotemporaries, excepting those only of the inimitable Ariosto. In one of his poems Michael Agnolo laments the fluctuating state of his reli- gious sentiments, and calls upon the Marchesana to direct him in his spiritual concerns." — Roscoe's Life of Leo the Tenth, quarto edition, vol. iii. pp. 217-22. ( b ) Pride of a princely house, unmatch *d for fame . For the splendid origin, illustrious actions, &c. of the Colonna family, see Gibbon, vol. xii. p. 317. octavo edition. Marco Antonio Colonna commanded the Pope's galleys at the naval victory of Lepanto. — ce Actium, Lepanto, fatal Trafalgar."— Childe Harold. Prospero Colonna was a very great general, (see Guic- riardini 1st. lib. xiv.) Petrarca calls the Colonna, (the co- lumn) on which Rome rests her hopes. V1TT0RIA COLONNA. 227 (c) When poets, mindless of their glorious trust. "The Muses are seen in the company of Passion, and there is almost no affection so depraved and vile which is not soothed by some kind of learning ; and herein the indul- gence and arrogance of wits doth exceedingly derogate from the Majesty of the Muses; that whereas they should be the leaders and ancient-bearers of life, they are become the footpages and buffoons to lust and vanity." — Bacon's Advancement of Learning. Many of the Italian poets have sullied their genius by the licentiousness of their writings ; among them was " II divino Pietro Aretino," who made a mockery of religion, by alternately composing the most pious and the most licen- tious works ; even the secretary of Leo the Tenth, the ce- lebrated Bembo, is not exempt from the charge of writing obscene poems. "Quod poema merito vocare possis ob- scenissimam elegantiam, aut elegantissimam obscenitatem." —See Bayle, art. Bembo, Aretino. <•< O gracious God ! how far have we Profaned thy heavenly gift of poesy ! Made prostitute and profligate the Muse, Debased to each obscene and impious use, Whose harmony was first ordain'd above For tongues of angels, and for hymns of love !" Dry den. Q2 228 NOTES ON VITTORIA COLONNA. ( d ) Let truths tremendous on thy canvas dwell. The Last Judgment of Michael Angelo, in the Sistine Chapel of the Vatican at Rome, thus calls forth the admi- ration of a powerful but fastidious critic, Mr. Forsyth. — " How congenial the powers of the painter! Bold and precipitating, they dash on to the immediate object, in de- fiance of rules and ridicule." Of the great statue of Moses in the S. Pietro in Vincoli, he says, " Here sits the Moses of M. Angelo, frowning with the terrific eyebrows of Olympian Jove." SALERNO, i. -How Beautiful, Salerno, is thy bay ! How green thy heights monastic ! — let me stand On yonder mountain, ('tis the break of day,) And view, outstretch'd below, a sacred land,- — Beneath the day-blush indistinctly grand. Here beauty smiled, and valour boldly fought .-— Who would not fight when beauty gives command ? Here, with unclouded mind, the scholar sought Those academes, where learning every science taught. 230 SALERNO. II. Hail, thou thrice-blessed sun ! how very few With thankfulness enjoy thy genial beams! Or from the mountain's height are wont to view, With feelings of delight, morn's earliest gleams,— The mist uprising o'er the distant streams ! The morn's an emblem of our second birth; When we shall quit this pleasant land of dreams, ( a ) The sun, to those who feel and know their worth, Predicts eternal glories for the sons of earth. in. Here let me pause. The blood of Christ was spilt. To free mankind from death's eternal chains : — - Not through indulgences to cancel guilt, Or from the tainted heart wash out its stains, Unless repentance chasten it with pains. The spiritual pride of Rome must yield To pure philosophy, that now disdains Those papal fiats to which kings appeal' d, When mad ambition used religion as its shield. ( b ) SALERNO. 231 IV. Ye haughty Cardinals, who o'er the minds ( c ) Of despot sovereigns held despotic sway, — ■ No heir to your self-willed ambition binds Nobility, with iron links, to-day ; — Your power anomalous has past away ! Ye were most potent ministers, and well, With eagle swiftness, pounced upon your prey. Yet are ye greater now than those who dwell On Nicolo's vast heights, or hermit in his cell ? ( d ) v. Ye have upraised indeed the monarch's power, — That it might fall from high with greater force : The chains ye forged were broken in an hour, By outraged multitudes, without remorse. Affection is true loyalty's prime source. Up mounts ambition, like a seeled dove, (While vulgar spirits wonder at its course) Higher and higher yet, it mounts above Royalty's self, that scorns (how blind !)the people'slove. 232 SALERNO. VI. A few years pass away, and then — farewell To wealth and rank, and all we hold most dear ! — For ever and for ever we must dwell With saints or daemons, — death approacheth near. Why quakes yon mighty potentate with fear ? He leaves a name behind ; and heroes toil To gain — what many have who ne'er appear But in the poet's fabled lays, — they spoil Others' repose, and lose their own through vain turmoil ! VII. Are not the heroes of romance as known As Caesar, Attila, or Ammon's son ? ( e ) What an unreal thing is that renown WTiich after-ages give — for battles won — To him, who from this bustling world is gone ! He wanders through the mansions of the dead, — Where joy ne'er smiled, the light has never shone — Vexed by the groans of those who daily bled, That through — else happy — lands their lord might ruin spread ! NOTES ON SALERNO. ( a ) When we shall quit this pleasant land of dreams*— Without entering into the fanciful and mystical ideas of Wordsworth, in regard to our present situation on earth, and a pre-existent state, I might be allowed to quote from the Divine Analogy of Bishop Butler.— " Our present state may possibly be the consequence of somewhat past, of which we are wholly ignorant, — as it has a reference to somewhat to come, of which we know scarce any more than is necessary to practise." ( b ) When mad ambition used Religion as its shield. Pope Anaclet gave the investiture of the principality of Capua to Roger the First, King of Sicily, when Robert, its own Prince, was in possession of it ! — Giannone, 1st. Nap. Lib. X. " It is the liberty of Examination," says Bentham, 234 NOTES ON SALERNO. " which has corrected the errors of ignorance, and restores religion to its true object/' [ Innocent the Third pretended that he had the right of legation over Sicily : — he deposes Philip in favour of Otho, and insists upon his deposition. " II faut/' disoit-il, " ou que le Prince Philippe perde l'empire, ou que je perde le souverain Pontificate — Histoire d' Allemagne, par Barre* ( c ) Ye haughty Cardinals, &c. Though the vices of Richelieu and Ximenes are in some degree sunk in the splendour of their abilities, — what shall we say of the cunning Mazarin and the turbulent de Retz ? ( d ) On Nicolo y s vast heights, or hermit in his cell ? St. Nicolo is a very high mountain in the island of Ischia. On its heights are the lonely dwellings of a few monks. — If they think it is necessary for their salvation that they should abstract themselves from the world, why should we quarrel with their voluntary retirement ? They err, at least, on the right side. ( e ) As Caesar, Attila, or Amnion's son ? - ( Quoi done a votre avis fut-ce un fou qu' Alexandre ? Qui ? cet 6cervele qui mit PAsie en cendre ? NOTES ON SALERNO. 235 Ce fougueux l'Angeli, qui de sang alter£, Maitre du monde en tier, s'y trouvoit trop serre ? I/enrage qu'il etoit, ne Roi d'une province, Qu'il pouvoic gouverner en bon et sage Prince, S'en alia follement, et pensant etre Dieu, Courir comme un Bandit qui n'a ni feu ni lieu ; Et trainant avec soi les horreurs de la guerre, De sa vaste folie emplir toute la terre. Heureux ! si de son terns, pour cent bonnes raisons, Le Mac£doine eut eu de Petites-Maisons, Et qu'un sage Tuteur Peut en cette demeure, Par avis de Parens, enferme" de bonne heure. "-^JBtoile S O N G. A breathless feeling, a suspense Of life, a quietude intense Prevail'd around me in this hour ; E'en Silence felt Love's mighty power." US. Like liquid gold glitter'd the waves of the ocean = The moon there reflected her light : All was silent and still : not a breeze was in motion So deeply serene was the night O ! sacred to love was the thought-soothing hour That hush'd all reflection away — All life's busy cares ! so diffusive the power Of love at the mild close of day ! SONG, 237 What abandonment sweet did I feel, as I roved Alone, o'er the far-winding shore. Then came o'er my memory scenes that I loved. Scenes, alas ! that I ne'er shall see more. O Nature I thy calm gives a pleasure indeed To the heart that no words can express : As sweet a delight as the lover's whose meed Is his bride's long-expected caress. ADDRESSED TO MY LITTLE GIRL. Thy eager look, my dearest child ! Thy little arms extended — Thine eye so vivid, yet so mild, Where life with love is blended — That look, that smile, those eyes of blue, Thy thousand winning ways, Promise me pleasures pure and true, Should God prolong my days. TO MY LITTLE GIRL. 239 But of the future none can speak ; That lies in depths of night ; And vain are all our hopes, and weak Our fore-schemes of delight. And wilt thou, when upon the bed Of sickness I shall lie, Wilt thou support my aching head, And teach me how to die? My first-born child ! my Julia dear ! Close to my heart I press thee ; May He whom all must love and fear, May He for ever bless thee ! POEMS WRITTEN IN EARLY YOUTH. A FRAGMENT. The generous warrior, with a thoughtful eye, Viewing his captive, heaves the pensive sigh. " Thus," he exclaims, " has fickle fortune graced My name with honours soon to be effaced ; When some proud victor dares ambition's height, My star of glory sheds diminish'd light ; But virtue will remain, as years may roll, The never-fading sunshine of the soul." Why droop philosophers to hear the name Of him, whose deeds emblaze the rolls of fame ? Can weakness sicken those whom virtue cheers With health of mind increasing yet with years ? No ! from another cause their sorrows flow, — From wisdom, sensible of human woe. r2 244 A FRAGMENT. To see, where happy ignorance is blind, The deadly griefs, that overwhelm mankind — To feel for others with a social soul — To weep at reasons impotent control, When passions lord it, with triumphant sway, O'er senseless potentates, whom slaves obey — Such is the envied privilege of thought : The wisest man might wish himself untaught. Let vain historians praise successful guilt, Then coldly calculate the blood it spilt — Dwell with delight on Caesar's mighty deeds, Then rail at treason, when the tyrant bleeds — My humble mind, unblest by martial pride, With pain pursued his sanguinary tide ; But when, at length, death stemm'd his ruthless course, I hail'd the dagger's patriotic force ; Still shall the hero perish unrenown'd, Unwept in death, nor e'en with honours crown'd ? A FRAGMENT. 245 Shall Nelson lie forgotten in the grave, Who stretch'd the arm to conquer, yet to save ? No ! laurels thicken o'er the patriot's tomb ; His honours flourish in unfading bloom : On acts like his, e'en rugged virtue smiles, When freedom's keenness baffles ruffian wiles. VERSES WRITTEN UPON LEAVING HARROW SCHOOL. O dukes cornitum valete coetus, Longe quos simul a domo profectos Divers^ varias viee reportant. Catullus. As evening shades, in summer, calm the light, Thus thoughts of future, temper wild delight. Through Hope's delusive glass bright scenes we view By many fancied — realized to few. All are pre-doomed to taste the cup of woe, To war with griefs which here they never know. In youth's gay spring, the soul, devoid of care, Forebodes no cloud — life seems in prospect fair ; Soon withers on the cheek the rose of health ; Soon is consumed anticipated wealth. VERSES, &c. 247 When sickness wastes the frame, disgrace the heart, Untimely death alone can ease impart. How relative is happiness ! — e'en now, When, with unusual warmth, my spirits glow. Some fondly dream o'er days of boyhood past, And fain would wish them, if renew' d, to last ; 'Till memory wakes in age a transient joy, The world's worn pilgrim seems again a boy. Ye dear companions of my early years, Oh ! may these prove but visionary fears ! Yet, should the world, with meretricious wiles, Contract the heart, deform fair friendship's smiles — Should lawless passions frighten reason down, Then seat themselves, alternate, on her throne ; W T hen each might lord it with unruly power, The petty tyrant of the passing hour — Say, which were best, Orbilius * to obey, Or thus to wild affections fall a prey ! * Orbilius is the name of the schoolmaster of Horace. Here poetic license makes it synonymous with that of any schoolmaster. 248 VERSES WRITTEN ON To cheer reflection, science shines afar, Her will I follow as my polar star, She will conduct me to the blest retreats Of classic taste — the Muse's sacred seats. Still shall this hill, with Wisdom's nurslings blest, Wake many a fond remembrance in my breast. Here, oft, with unavailing zeal, I sought To body forth in verse the fleeting thought, That charm'd the fancy, while it mock'd the mind, Then fled — too volatile to be confined. Here throbbed my anxious breast 'twixt hope and fear, As peal'd the warning bell upon my ear. Here, beckon'd on by Freedom's lawless smile, I wander' d forth to pass the well-known mile. Some chiding " voice in every breeze" I heard j Now onwards ran— now trembling, scarcely stirr'd* Here Superstition raised no local dread. With careless step I roved among the dead ; Laugh' d at the quaint memorials of our doom, That, carved on wood, adorn'd the rustic's tomb, LEAVING HARROW SCHOOL. 249 Here have I tasted innocent delight ; No conscious guilt disturbed my rest at night. May no sad contrast to these happy times Add weight to woe, or aggravate my crimes. Scenes of my youth, farewell! nor thou refuse This tributary effort of my Muse — Thou, whom no more 'tis flattery to commend, My guide — excuse a fonder term — my friend. Still prune with care the student's vagrant lays, Sweeten the toil of early worth with praise : Bid Genius kindle at a poet's name, And young Ambition emulate thy fame. TO MY SISTER, ON HER BIRTH -DAY Bur the long pomp, the midnight masquerade, With all the freaks of wanton wealth array'd ; In these, ere tiiflers half their wish obtain, The toiling pleasure sickens into pain. Goldsmith's Deserted Village, How swiftly pass our early years away ! Youth seems the short-lived phantom of a day.* Childhood is gone, that fairy scene is o'er ; The sports of infancy now please no more ; On past delights remembrance loves to dwell, While sighs break forth to calm the bosom's swell. You smile, perchance, at such a mournful strain ; u Mine are the joys of life, why thus complain?" * Festinat enim decurrere velox, Flosculus angustse miserseque brevissinia vitae Portio : dum bibimus, dum serta, unguenta, puellas, Poscimus, obrepit non intellects senectus. Juv. Sat. ix. TO MY SISTER. 251 Though Fashion beckons from the splendid hall — Though Pleasure seems to triumph at the ball — Think not that real happiness is there, Nor trust, my Mary, wealth's imposing glare. Of all the motley crew who crowd the town, How few there are who can exist alone ! Some fly to gaieties to banish grief: Can flippant converse give the heart relief? Some to conceal their narrow range of thought ; These look intelligence ; yet talk of nought. No airy visions o'er their fancy sweep ; Their souls are chain'd in one perpetual sleep. These men are solemn mountebanks at best, Outcasts of Nature, though by Fortune blest, Compared with him whose bosom Genius fires, Whom Science brightens, or the Muse inspires. Youth's fresh'ning aspect, Beauty's faultless form, Shrink from the searching blast of sorrow's storm : 252 TO MY SISTER. But intellect, that Deity within, Will soften grief; nay more, may conquer sin. It gathers strength through each successive year- More amiable in age its charms appear — - While Pleasure's surfeit palls upon the heart, And fashion's fair illusions soon depart. VERSES ON THE DEATH OF GENERAL FITZPATRICK, Blest as thou wert, Fitzpatrick, with a mind By eloquence sublimed, by wit refined, With all the gifts that science could impart, With all the social virtues of the heart ; Colloquial elegance to charm the fair, The table's boast, though Sheridan was there ; Well might we mourn for ever, ever gone Such splendid qualities combined in one. Yet, hating all the foppery of praise, Thy Muse retiring, shunn'd the public gaze. The multitude's applauses are but low, Compared with those which learning's sons bestow, 254 VERSES, &c. If Fox,* companion of an honour'd few Souls of an higher class, to friendship true, Smiled on thy efforts, in those glorious nights When Fancy soar'd above her usual flights ; Or when Philosophy display' d her charms — To lure the patriot from her sister's arms, His kind approval was thy best reward ; It warm'd the man, inspirited the bard. * Quiii ubi se a vulgo et scena in secreta remorant Virtus Scipiadse et mitis sapientia Laeli ; Hor. Sat- THE DESERTED FRIEND. And friendship, which a faint affection breeds, Without regard of good* dies like ill-grounded seeds. Spenser's Fahy Queen. Ut matrona meretrici dispar erit, atque Discolor? infido scurroe distabit amicus. Horat. Epi&t. Mild was the air, serene the night, The moon beam'd forth her tranquil light, No stormy daemon roused the blast, (As o'er the hills in haste I past,) To chill my frame or cramp my speed — But oh ! my heart was cold indeed. The look of scorn, the shameless stare, Had curdled e'en the life-blood there, For friends had strangely gazed on me : I marr'd, perchance, their social glee. 256 THE DESERTED FRIEND. Yet once they bade my spirits glow — My crime was then— the same as now. Too quickly summer's beauty dies ! The moral 's plain — " In time be wise." The winter's rage prepared to brave, No shock we feel, though tempests rave ; But friendship, I too fondly thought, Would last for ever, if unbought, Life's constant sunshine ; to the breast An Eden, nay, an heaven of rest, Where, when the world's vexations tire^ It might, to soothe its pangs, retire. I was deceived : the bitter truth Proves confidence is nought in youth. Such change, alas ! was not foreseen, Yet oft before, such change has been ; And many have been duped by others, Who seem'd to them as kind as brothers. How the bright arch that spans the sky, In childhood caught my eager eye : THE DESERTED FRIEND. 257 The beauteous curve appear'd to stand Substantial on yon rising land. How rich its hues ! each hue alone Betray* d a link of precious stone. The glorious prize within my view, One luckless day I must pursue ; From hill to hill it quickly fled, Through bush and brake my steps it led ; Then, as it mock'd my further stay, It fainter gleam' d — it died away. Home I return' d, ashamed, yet smiled, In seeming scorn, on chase so wild. Thus 'tis with friendship ; many claim A portion of her hallow'd flame, Yet friendship scarce exists on earth : Few seek, still fewer find, her worth. The maid unseen, we love to chase Some airy vision in her place. 258 THE DESERTED FRIEND. But soon we mourn the shadow lost, Youth will despair when hopes are crost ; Then bitterly we rue the time When confidence appear'd no crime. Will wisdom soothe us ? 'tis too late. Love was abused — then welcome hate. ON KENILWORTH CASTLE. Majestic, though in ruins. — Milton. Mouldering away in desolated pride, Thy glory past, thy majesty remains ; Though time has torn thy pillar 'd porches wide, Where Echo sleeps, and horrid Silence reigns. Thus onwards all things to destruction glide, Whatever pageantries this world contains — Decaying, not o'erthrown ! thou still art seen A monumental wreck, of what thou erst hast been. s2 260 ON KENILWORTH CASTLE. Still let me contemplate thy wasting walls, Thy topless columns whence the owlet screams : Those grass-worn mounds were once baronial halls, Whose pristine worth surpasseth Fancy's dreams. There chivalry presided o'er the balls, The sun of beauty there shed forth its beams : Now all tfs loneliness ! Reflection, say How long the works of man outlive man's little day ! OFFA, KING OF MERCIA. Honour but weakens high emprize ; It never guides the truly wise. Offa had learn 5 d this regal lore, By history taught to many more* Whate'er he will'd, that must be right, Were it an act of cruel might. Success had sanctified his schemes ; All scruples were but dotard's dreams. Yet was his heart untroubled, free From conscience-rousing agony? No ! for those pangs, he ne'er would own, Oft started through his deepened frown. The thoughts of death were painful, yet His mind on savage deeds was set. He loved the fight ; his fearless hand Wielded with ease the deadly brand ; 262 OFFA, KING OF MERCIA. But more he loved to gain his end, By arts to which e'en kings descend, Outwitting those who ne'er believed That man his brother man deceived. And Offa's brow was worn with thought : His were the fruits of wars well fought ; His too the counsel — well he saw That sovereignty itself is law. His schemes were framed with practised skill ; No sturdy faction crost his will. Invincible miscall'd, a slave To passions such as taint the brave, He had upheld fair Mercia's fame, He had o'erwhelm'd his foes with shame ; " Grim-visaged war" on him had smiled, Him fortune never had beguiled. Brave spirit ! though the foe were near, Thy very name had banish' d fear. THE WORLD AS IT IS. Such as are ambitious art incited by the greatness of their power to at- tempt great matters ; aud the most sottish or lazy may discharge them- selves of Cares, and hope that others will be more easily hired to take the burden of business upon them while they lie at ease. Sidney on Government, page 165. I. That master-vice Ambition has its course ; It wakens Hope, — it promises success : Can Wisdom, Reason, Justice break the force, Of those bold passions that o'erlook distress ? Not Fear itself, their vigour can repress. Hence Pride attempts what Fancy had designd. Betraying often its own littleness ; Fortune unbalances the strongest mind, Such vanities beset the mightiest of mankind. 264 THE WORLD AS IT IS. II. These truths experience, history ever taught, And many a moral tale in childhood loved ; But men by splendid wickedness are caught, They laud those acts which erst they disapproved ; Their spleen, by buried crime alone is moved. Great villains thrive — we deem them great indeed. How brave their spirits, wheresoever they roved To desolate the world, while millions bleed, Officious fools for aye the cause of bravoes plead. in. While Aves vehement confuse their brains, Kings would be demigods, and courtiers kneel. Audacious mockery ! the Muse refrains From courting those who ne'er for others feel. Alas ! she cannot scorn the proud appeal Of steel-clad heroes to her lofty lay ; For them she weaves the laurel-wreath with zeal. As hirelings stalk along in proud array, Where blazing lights shed forth an artificial day. THE WORLD AS IT IS. 2C5 IV. And Genius thus is self-be tray' d to please An heartless tyrant, in his pride of power. The love of flattery is a sore disease ; It spreads from chieftains' hall to ladies' bower. The worm that gnaws the oak destroys the flower. Shall sacred poesy that heavenward springs, Her flights, to creep before a mortal, lower ? She scorns the song which venal minstrel sings, Nor to delight the proud her own fine offering brings. v. The worshippers of images offend Against Omnipotence ; nor they alone ; Those too, who, mindless of their nature, bend Before a fool or tyrant on a throne. Such men to scorn their God are ever prone. Their idols soon are swept away from earth, In folly riotous, with pride upblown. What then avail their victories or mirth, The splendour of their deeds, the lustre of their birth ? 266 THE WORLD AS IT IS. VI. Truth must prevail at length ; who now reveres Almamon's ( a ) wealth, or Akber's ( b ) mighty name ? Or his ( c ) far more renown' d in later years, Once loudly thunder'd through the trump of fame ? His hardihood may women-warriors shame, The beams of science, pierce through northern gloom, Barbarian tribes their love of arts proclaim ; Justice may soon in all her beauty bloom, And Prejudice lie sunk in dark oblivion's tomb. ( d ) NOTES TO " THE WORLD AS IT IS." ( a ) Almamon's wealth. See Gibbon's " Decline and Fail of the Roman Empire/' vol. v. page 419, quarto edit. — After describing the immense wealth of Almansor, who laid the foundation of Bagdad, the Author thus proceeds. u The courtiers would surely praise the liberality of his grandson Almamon, who gave away four-fifths of the income of a province, a sum of two millions four hundred thousand gold dinars, before he drew his foot from the stirrup/' (i>) Akber's mighty name. For the account of the exploits of Akber, his magnificent palace at Agra, and his splendid peacock throne, I refer the reader to Maurice's Indian Antiquities, vol. i. pages 196. 210. ( c ) Or his far more renown* d ! Napoleon Buonaparte ! c( How art thou fallen, Lucifer, Son of the Morning !" ( d ) And prejudice lie sunk. " Fond impious man ! think' st thou yon sanguine cloud Raised by thy breath has quench'd the Orb of day ? To-morrow he repairs the golden flood, And warms the nation with redoubled ray/' Gray's Bard- ROSAMOND, A FRAGMENT.* u Talche si pote dire Alboino vinse PItalia, et una Femina vinse Alboino." — Del Regno d'ltalia Epitome. " He would despise me as a thing that bears Insult with patience, or dissolves in tears, A better lesson to his sex I '11 teach ; The cruel madman is within my reach. Revenge is mine ; that passion ill supprest Rages with quicken'd fury in my breast. Were there no mountebanks to furnish sport For all the savages who crowd his court, * For the story to which this fragment relates, see Gibbon's ( '~ Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire." Quarto edit. vol. iv page 430. ROSAMOND. 269 But / must be selected to delight Their vaunting spirits — forced to such a sight ? — Yet it unnerves me not ; my father's will Is done, and hatred stifles sense of ill. This pleasant triumph too may sadly end ; Trust not, fool-hardy prince, the seeming friend. Thy wife is but thy slave, untrue to thee, Her person is encaged, her heart is free ; Or if not free, another doth possess That, which thee, parricide, can never bless. Not always he, who braves in various shapes Death undisguised, his secret snare escapes. Thy Lombard chiefs shall not protect thee now, A woman's weak revenge will give the blow. Thus self absolved from crime, let others prate, I '11 urge my gentle paramour to hate That royal monster whose untender zeal Has forced my soul this agony to feel." 270 ROSAMOND. Thus spoke the lofty dame, while passions strove Within for mastery — hate, vengeance, love. Hate of her cruel lord, revenge on him Who tore her very heart to please his whim. Another passion rose, as bad indeed, Yet such as cheer'd her at her utmost need. The slayer of her kindred forced to wed, Dragg'd like a victim to the nuptial bed, Marriage to her no morning-star appear'd ; Its imaged brightness once her hopes had cheer'd. Wliy marvel that her feelings went astray, When thus was undermined their only stay ? BRUTUS. " When the uncorrupted part of the senate had, by the death of Caesar, made one great effort to restore their former state and liberty, the success did not answer their hopes ; but that whole assembly was so sunk in its authority, that those patriots were forced to fly and give way to the mad- ness of the people^ who, by their own disposition, stirred up with the ha- rangues of their orators, were now wholly bent upon single and despotic slavery." 111 Thomson Park Drive *P £* t # #„ <$> Cranberry Township, PA 16066 ^ °o .4* s*mz>*:* (724)779 - 2111 __ PreservationTechnologies A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION ^ •♦ ^ . "xb^f] wm& * o» r • <^s paw ^ v « ^n »fs * £°* °o ■ $*« wag?' i>% WERT J C^fv X:.^' : : A^ Crantvtlle, Pi. 1^* ^^ V\ %^JEr* ^ ^ |uly-Aug1985 | SK %^ *%^ A ^