' %.^^ V ''^^o^ o* -.# : .^^ V ^ ^ ■* ° ^ -% V ^ ^ " « A ^-^^ -^^0^ ^.%. ^^. ArouB-cL my ivy- -p oick sli-aJi spring Eaxih. fragrant flower that driifks tiie dew; Aixd J-noy , afher whe el , sl-Lall sing , In russet gown ajid ajrun lilixe . Jhiilished hy fi.kW.A.Bartaw,/^ewTark. Jj o^cJ^ hry^Cy{^^^ »^^^ TMH to w/iich is adrted riiblisked bvE. &1V" A Bartow ^W^A.Bcia-lonv, Rickiiioiid . (^-ir. / X820 . THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY, OTHER POEMS, BY S\1MUEL ROGERS, Es^. To which is added, THE ^A»i ®w mMm®ww. BY ROBERT MERRY, A. M. NEW-YORK : PCBLISHED BY R. &. W. A. BARTOW, 347 PEARL^ STREET, FRANKLIN SQUARE, AND W. A. BARTOW, RICHMOND, (VIR.) J. Gray Sf Co. Pnnters. 1820. :»898. cv ^ INDEX TO ROGERS' POEMS. Invocalioa --..--- 5 An lysis of the first part of the Pleasures of Memory 9 Pleasures of Memory, part 1st - - - - 11 Analysis of part 2d 25 Pleasures of Memory, part 2d - - - - 27 Notes on part 1st ------ 43 Notes on part 2d 61 Ode to Superstition 57 Notes on the Ode 63 Epistle to a Friend ------ 67 Preface to the Epistle 69 Notes on the Epistle 81 To the Gnat - - 89 Sketch of the Alps at day-break - - - 89 Greek Epigram imitated 90 The Sailor, an elegy - - . - - - 91 Captivity 92 On a Tear 96 An Italian Song- ... « - - .04 iv INDEX. To a Friend on his Marriage - - - - 94 To a Young-est Daughter ----- 96 A Wish 96 A Character 97 Farewell 97 To an Old Oak 98 To a Voice that had been lost - - - - 100 Frag«ients from Euripides . - _ . 101 Written at Midnight, 1786 . - - - 102 Verses written to be spoken by Mrs. Siddons - 102 To Two Sisters 105 Written in a Sick Chamber - ... 106 To the Fragments of a Statue of Hercules - 107 Imitation of an Italian Sonnet - - - - 108 An Epitaph on a Robin Redbreast - - - 108 On a Girl Asleep 109 To 109 Verses written in Westminster Abbey - - 110 To the Butterfly 112 The Hermit 113 The Superannuated Lover - , - - 121 Pains of Memory, by Robert Merry, A. M. - 123 INVOCATION. Oh ! could my mind, unfolded in my page. Enlighten climes and mould a future age ! There as it glowed, with noblest frenzy fraught. Dispense the treasures of exalted thought ; To virtue wake the pulses of the heart And bid the tear of emulation start ! Oh ! could it still, through each succeeding year, My life, my manners, and my name endear ! And, when the poet sleeps in silent dust ! Still hold communion with the wise and just, — Yet should this verse, my leisure's best resource, When through the world it steals its secret course, Revive but once a generous wish supprest, Chase but a sigh, or charm a care to rest ; In one good deed a fleeting hour employ, Or flush one faded cheek with honest joy ; Blest were my lines, though limited there sphere, Though short their date^ as him who traced thera here. THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. PART I. Hoc est Vivere bis, vita possee priore frui. Mart. ANALYSIS FIRST PART. The poem begins with the description of an obscure village and of the pleasing melancholy which it excites on being revisited after a long absence. This mixed sensation is an effect of the memory. From an effect we naturally ascend to the cause ; and the subject proposed is then unfolded with an investigation of the nature and leading principles of this faculty. It is evident that there is a continued succession of ideas in the mind, and that they introduce each other with a certain degree of regularity. Their complexion depends greatly on the different perceptions of pleasure and pain which we receive through the medium of sense ; and, in return, they have a considerable influ- ence on the animal economy They are sometimes excited by sensible objects, and sonaetimes by an internal operation of the mind- Of the B 2 s AN-ALYSI3 OF THE TIRST PART. former species is, most probably, the memory of brutes ; and its many sources of pleasure to them, as well as to ourselves, are considered in the first part. The latter is the most perfect degree of memory, and forms the sub- ject of the second. When ideas have any relation whatever, they are attractive of each other in the mind ; and the perception of any object naturally leads to the idea of another which was connected with it, either in time or place, or which can be compared or contrasted with it. Hence arises our attachment to inanimate objects ; hence, also, in some degree, the love of our country, and the emotion with which we contemplate the celebrated scenes of antiquity. Hence a picture directs our thoughts to the original : and, as cold and darkness suggest forcibly the ideas of heat and light, he who feels the infirmities of age, dwells most on whatever reminds him of the vigour and vivacity of his youth. The associating principle, as here employed, is no lcs$ conducive to virtue than to happiness ; and as such, it frequentl}' discovers itself in the most tumultuous scenes of life. It addresses our finer feelings, and gives exercise to every mild and generous propensity. Not confined to man, it extends through all animated nature ; and its effects are peculiarly striking in the do- mestic tribes. PLEASURES OF MEMORY. PART I. Twilight's soft dews steal o'er the village green^ With magic tints to harmonize the scene. Stilled is the hum that through the hamlet broke, When, round the ruins of their ancient oak, The peasants flocked to hear the minstrel play, And games and carols closed the busy day. Her wheel at rest, the matron charms no more With treasured tales of legendary lore, All, all are fled ; nor mirth nor music flows To chase the dreams of innocent repose. All, all are fled; y^t still I linger here! — What pensive sweets this silent spot endear! Mark yon old mansion, frowning through the trees, Whose hollow turret woo's the whistlinsr breeze 12 THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. That casement, arched with ivy's brownest shade, First to these eyes the Hght of heaten conveyed. The mould'ring gateway strews the grass-grown court, Once the calm scene of many a simple sport ; When nature pleased, for life itself was new, And the heart promised what the fancy drew. See, through the fractured pediment revealed, Where moss inlays the rudely-sculptured shield, The martin's old, hereditary nest, Long may tlie ruin spare its hallowed guest ! , As jars the hinge, what sullen echoes call ! Oh, haste, unfold the hospitable hall ! That hall, where once, in antiquated state, The chair of justice held the grave debate. Ps'ow stained with dews, with cobwebs darkly hung ! Oft has its roof with peals of rapture rung ; When round yon ample board, in due degree, We sweetened every meal with social glee. The heart's light laughter crowned the circling jest ; And all was sunshine in each little breast. 'Twas here we chased the slipper by its sound ; And turned the blindfold hero round and round. 'Twas here, at eve, we formed our fairy ring ; And fancy fluttered, on her wildest wing. Giants and genii chained the wondering ear ; And orphan-woes drew nature's ready tear. Oft with the babes we wandered in the wood, Or viewed the forest feats of Robin Hood : Oft, fancy-led, at midnight's fearful hour. With startling step, we scaled the lonely tower; THE PLEASURES OF lytEMORY. \Z O'er infant innocence to hang and weep, Murdered by ruffian hands, when smiling in its sleep. Ye house-hold deities ! whose guardian eye Marked each pure thought, ere registered on high : Still, still ye walk the consecrated ground, And breathe the soul of inspiration round. As o'er the dusky furniture I bend, Each chair awakes the feelings of a friend. The storied arras, source of fond delight, With old achievement charms the wildered sight ; And still, with heraldry's rich hues imprest, On the dim window glows the pictured crest. The screen unfolds its many-coloured chart, The clock still points its moral to the heart ! That faithful monitor, 'twas' heaven to hear ! When soft it spoke a promised pleasure near ; And has its sober hand, its simple chime, Forgot to trace the feathered feet of time ? That massive beam, with curious carvings wrought, Whence the caged linnet soothed my pensive thought ; Those muskets, cased with venerable rust ; [dust, Those oncc-Ioved forms, still bi-eathing through their Still from the frame, in mould gigantic cast, Starting to life — all whisper of the past ! As through the garden's desert paths I rove, What fond illusions swarm in every grove ! How oft, when purple evening tinged the west, We watched the emmet to her grainy nest ; Welcomed the wild-bee home, on wearied wing, Laden with sweets, the choicest of the spring ! How oft inscribed with friendship's votive rhyme, The bark, now silvered by the touch of time ; 14 THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. Soared in the swing, half pleased and half afraid, Through sister elms that waved their summer-shade ; Or strewed with crumbs yon root-inwoven seat, To lure the redbreast from his lone retreat ! Childhood's loved group revisits every scene, The tangled wood-walk, and the tufted green ! Indulgent 7Iemory wakes, and, lo ! they live ! Clothed with far softer hues than light can give. Thou last, best friend that heaven assigns below, To sooth and sweeten all the cares we know ; Whose glad suggastions still each vain alarm. When nature fades, and life forgets to charm ; Thee would the muse invoke ! — to thee belong The sage's precept, and the poet's song. What softened views thy magic glass reveals, When o'er the landscape time's meek twilight steals I As when in ocean sinks the orb of day. Long on the wave reflected lustres play ; Thy tempered gleams ot happiness resigned, Glance on the darkened mirror of the mind. The school's lone porch, with reverend mosses grey. Just tells the pensive pilgrim where it lay, Mute is the bell that rung at peep of dawn, Quickening my truant-feet across the lawn ; Unheard the shout that rent the noontide air. When the slow dial gave a pause to care. Up springs, at every step, to claim a tear Some little friendship, formed and cherished here ! And not the lightest leaf, but trembling teems With golden visions, and romantic dreams ! Down by yon hazel copse, at evening, blazed The gipsy's faggot — there we stood and gazed ; THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 15 CJazed on her sun-burnt face, with silent awe, Her tattered mantle, and her hood of straw ; Her moving lips, her caldron brimming o'er ; The drowsy brood that on her back she bore, Imps, in the barn with mousing- owlets bred, From rifled roost at nightly revel fed ; [shade, Whose dark eyes flashed through locks of blackest When in the breeze the distant watch-dog bayed : — And heroes fled the sibyl's muttered call. Whose elfin prowess scaled the orchard wall. As o'er my palm the silver piece she drew, And traced (he line of life with searching view ! [fears^ How throbbed my fluttering pulse with hopes and To learn the colour of my future years ! Ah, then what honest triumph flushed my breast ! This truth once known — To bless is to be blest! W^e led the bending beggar on his way ; Bare were his feet, his tresses silver-grey, Soothed the keen pangs his aged spirit felt, And on his tale with mute attention dwelt. As in his scrip we dropt our little store. And wept to think that little was no more. He breathed his prayer, ' long may such goodness live ! ' Twas all he gave, 'twas ail he had to give. Angels, when mercy's mandate winged their flight, Had stopt to catch new rapture from the sight. But hark ! through those old firs, with sullen swell The church-clock strikes ! ye tender scenes farewell I It calls me hence, beneath their shade, to trace The few fond lines that time may soon efface. On yon grey stone, that fronts the chancel door, Worn smooth by busy feet now seen no more, IS TnE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. Each eve we shot the marble through the ring, When the heart danced, and life was in its spring ; Alas ! unconscious of the kindred earth, That faintly echoed to the voice of mirth. The glow-worm loves her emerald light to shed, Where now the sexton rests his hoary head . Oft, as he turned the greensward with his spade, He lectured every youth that round him played ; And, calmly pointing where his fathers lay, Roused him to rival each, the hero of his day. Hush, ye fond flutterings, hush ! while here alone I search the records of each mouldering stone. Guides of my life 1 instructors of my youth ! Who first unveiled the hallowed form of truth ? Whose every word enlightened and endeared ; In age beloved, in poverty revered ; In friendship's silent register ye live. Nor ask the vain memorial art can give. — But when the sons of peace and pleasure sleep, When only sorrow wakes and wakes to weep, What spells entrance my visionary mind, With sighs so sweet, with raptures so refined ! Ethereal power ! whose smile, at noon of night, Recalls the far-fled spirit of delight ; Instills that musing, melancholy moodj Wliich charms the wise, and elevates the good ; Blest MEMORY, hail ! oh, grant the grateful muse. Her pencil dipt in nature's living hues, To pass the clouds that round thy empire roll, And trace its aii'y precincts in the soul. Lulled in the countless chambers of the brain, Our thoughts are linked by many a hidden chain. THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. O Awake but one, and lo, what myriads rise ! (1) Each stamps its image as the other flies 1 Each as the varied avenues of sense Dehght or sorrow to the soul dispense, Brightens or fades : yet all, with magic ai t, Control (he latent fibres of the heart. As studious Prospero's mysterious spell Convened the subject spirits to his cell ; Each, at thy call, advances or retires, As judgment dictates, or the scene inspires. Each thrills the seat of sense, that sacred source, Whence the fine nerves direct their mazy course, And througli the frame invisibly convey The subtle, quick vibrations as they play. Survey the globe, each ruder realm explore, From reason's faintest ray to Newton soar. What different spheres to human bliss assigned! What slow gradations in the scale of mind ! Yet mai'k in each these mystic wonders wrought; Oh mark the sleepless energies of thought ! The adventurous boy, that asks his little share, And hies from home, with majn' a gossip's prayer, Turns on the neighbouring hill, once more to see The dear abode of peace and ;ii ivacy ; And as he turns, the thatch among the trees, The smoke's blue wreathes ascending with the breeze, The village-common, spotted wliitc with sheep, The church-yard yews, round which his fathers All rouse reQection's sadly-pleasing train, [sleep ; (2) And oft he looks and weeps, and looks ag;ain. So, when the mild Tupia dared explore Arts yet untaught, and worlds unknown before, 18 THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. And, with the sons of science, wooed the g^aie, That, rising, swelled their strange expanse of sail; So, when he breathed his firm yet fond adieu, (3) Borne from his leafy hut, his carved canoe. And all his soul l)est loved, such tears he shed, While each soft scene of summer beauty fled : Long o'er the wave a wistful look he cast, Long watched the streaming signal from the mast j Till twilight's dewy tints deceived his eye, And fairy forests fringed the evening sky. So Scotia's queen, as slowly dawned the day, (4) Rose on her couch, and gazed her soul away. Her eyes had blessed the beacon's glimmering height That faintly tipt the feathery surge with light ; But now the morn, with orient hues, portrayed Each castled clift', anil brown monastic shade : All touched the talisman's resistless spring, And, lo, what busy tribes were instant on the wing'. Thus kindred objects kindred thoughts inspire, (5) As summer-clouds flash forth electric fire. And hence this spot gives back the joys of youth, Warm as the life, and with the mirror's truth. Hence home-felt pleas ure prompts the patriot's sigh;(6/ This makes him wish to live, and dare to die. For this Foscari, whose relentless fate (7) Venus should blush to hear the muse relate. When exile wore his blooming years away, To sorrow's long soliloquies a prey, When reason, justice, vainly urged his cause, For this he roused her sanguinary laws ; Glad to return, though hope could grant no more And chains and tortuie hailed him to the shore. THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. l» And hence the charm historic scenes impart : Hence Tiber awes, and Avon melts the heart. Aerial forms, in Tempe's classic vale, Glance through the gloom, and whisper in the gale ; In wild VHiicluse with love aud Laura dwell, And watch and weep in Eloisa's cell. (8) 'Twas ever thus. And now at Virgil's tomb, (9) We bless the shade and bid the verdure bloom : So TuLLY paused, amid the wrecks of time, (10) On the rude stone to trace the truth sublime j When at his feet, in honoured dust disclosed, The immortal sag:e of Syracuse reposed. And as his youth in sweet delusion hung, Where oace a Plato taught, a Pindar sung ; • Who .low but meets him tnusing when he roves His ruined Tnsoulan's romantic groves ? In Rome's great forum, who but hears him roll His moral thunders o'er the subject soul ? And hence that calm delight the portrsiit gives : We gaze on every feature till it lives ; Still the fond lover views his absent maid ; Aud the lost friend still lingers in his shade ! Say why the pensive widow loves to weep, (11) When on her knee she rocks her babe to sleep ? Tremblingly still, she lifts his veil to trace The father's features in his infant face ; The hoary grandsire smiles the hour away, Won by the charm of innocence at play ; He bends to meet each artless burst of joy, Forgets his age, and acts again the boy. What though the iron school of war erase Each milder virtue, and each softer grace J 20 THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. What though the fiend's torpedo-touch arrest Each g-entler, finer impulse of the breast ; Still shall this active principle preside, And wake the tear to pity's s«lf denied. The intrepid Swiss, that guards a foreign shore, Condemned to climb his mountain-clifis no more, If chance he hears the song so sweetly wild (12) Which on those clifis his infant hours beguiled, Melts at the long-lost scenes that round him rise, And sinks, a martyr to repentant sighs. Ask not if courts or camps dissolve the charm ; Say why Vespasian loved his Sabine farm; (13) Why great Navarre, when France and freedom Sought the lone limits of a forest-shed. [bled, (14) When Diocletian's self-corrected raind (15) The imperial fasces of a world resigned, Say why we trace the labours of his spade, In calm Salona's philosophic shade. Say, when ambitious Charles renounced a throne, (16) To muse with monks, unlettered and unknown. What from his soul the parting tribute drew ? What claimed the sorrows of a last adieu ? The still retreats that soothed his tranquil breast, Ere grandeur dazzled, and its cares oppressed. Undamped by time, the generous instinct glows Far as Angola's sands, as Zembla's snows ; Glows in the tiger's den, the serpent's nest, On every form of varied life imprest. The social tribes its choicest influence hail : — And when the drum beats briskly in the gale. The war-worn courser charges at the sound, And with young vigour wheels the pasture round. THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 2i Oft has the aged tenant of the vale Leaned on his staff to lengthen out the tale j Oft hav e his lips the grateful tribute breathed, From sire to son with pious zoal bequeathed. When o'er tlie blasted heath the day declined, And on the scathed oak warred the winter wind .* When not a distant taper's twinkling ray Gleamed o'er the furze to light liim on his way ; When not a sheop-bell soothed his listening ear. And the big rain-drops told the tempest near ; Then did his horse the homeward track descry, The track that shunned his sad, inquiring eye; (17) And win each wavering purpose to relent ! With warmth so mild, so gently violent. That his charmed hand the careless rein resigned, And doubts and terrors vanished from his mind. Recall the traveller, whose altered form Has borne the buffet of the mountain-storm } And who will first his tbnd impatience meet ? His faithful dog's already at his feet ; Yes, though the porter spurn him from his door. Though ail, that knew him, know his face no more, His faithful dog shall tell his joy to each, With that mute eloquence which passes speech. And see, the master but returns to die ! Yet who shall bid the watchful servant fly ? The blasts of heaven, the drenching dews of earth, The wanton insults of unfeeling mirth ; These, when to guard misfortune's sacred grave. Will firm fidelity exult to brave. Led by what chart, transports the timid dove, The wreath of conquest, or the vows of love ? « 2 22 THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. Say, through the clouds what compass points her flight! Monarchs have gazed, and nations blessed the sight. Pile rocks on rocks, bid woods and mountains rise, Eclipse her native shades, her native skies ; — 'Tis vain ! through ether's pathless wild she goes, And lights at last where all her cares repose. Sweetbird ! thy truth shall Harlem's walls attest,(18) And unborn ages consecrate thy nest. When with the silent energy of grief. With looks that asked, yet dared not hope relief. Want with her babes, round generous valour clung', To wring the slow surrender from his tongue. 'Twas thine to animate her closing eye ; Alas ! 'twas thine perchance the first to die, [the sky. Crushed by the meagre hand, when welcomed from Hark the bee winds her small but mellow horn, (19) Blithe to salute the sunny smile of morn. O'er thymy downs she bends her busy course, And many a stream allures her to its source. 'Tis noon, 'tis night. That eye so finely wrought Beyond the search of sense, the soar of thought, Now vainly asks the scenes she left behind ; Its orb so full, its vision so confined ! Who guides the patient pilgrim to her cell .'' Who bids her soul with conscious triumph swell . With conscious truth I'etrace the mazy clue Of varied scents, that charmed her as she flew. Hail, MEMORY, hail ! thy universal reign Guards the least link of being's glorious chain. END OF THE FIRST PART. THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. PART ir. Degli anni e de I'obblio nemica Delle cose custode, e dispensiera, Tasso ANALYSIS or THE SECOND PART. The Memory has lutlierto acted only In subservience to the senses, and so far man is not eminently distinguished from other animals ; but, with respect to man, she has a higher province , and is often busily employed, when ex- cited by no external cause whatever. She preserves, for his use, the treasures of art and science, history and phi- losophy. She colours all the prospects of life : for we can only anticipate the future, by concluding what is pos- sible from what is past. On her agency depends every effusion of the fancy, whose boldest effort can only com- pound or transpose, augment or diminish the materials which she has collected and retained. When the first emotions of despair have subsided, and sorrow has softened into melancholy, she amuses with a retrospect of innocent pleasures, and inspires that noble confidence which results from the consciousness of having 26 ANALYSIS OF THE SECOND PART. acted well. — When sleep has suspended the organs of sense from their office, she not only supplies the muid with images, but assists in their combination. And even in madness itself, when the soul is resigned over to the ty- ranny of a distempered imagination, she revives past per- ceptions, and awakens the train of thought which was for- merly most familiar. JVor are we pleased only with a review of the brighter passages of life ; events, the most distressing in their im- mediate consequences, are often cherished in remem- brance with a degree of enthusiasm. But the world and its occupations give a mechanical impulse to the passions, which is not very favourable to the indulgence of this feeling. It is in a calm and well regulated mind that the memory is most perfect ; and solitude is her best sphere of action. With this sentiment is introduced a talc, illustrative of her influence in soli- tude, sickness and sorrow. And the subject having row been considered, so far as it relates to man and the ani- mal world, the poem concludes with a conjecture, tnat superior beings are blest with a nobler exercise of this faculty. PLEASURES OF MEMORY. PART II. ' Sweet jiemory, wafted by the gentle gale, Oft up the stream of time I turn my sail, To view the fairy -haunts of long-lost hours, Blest with far greener shades, far fresher flowere. Ages, and climes remote, to thee impart What charms in genius, and refines in art; Thee, in whose hand the keys of science dwell : The pensive portress of her holy cell ; Whose constant vigils chase the chilling damp Oblivion steals upon her vestal-lamp. The friends of reason, and the guides of youth, Whose lan^ua^e breathed the eloquence of truth ; 28 THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. Whose life, beyond preceptive wisdom, taught The great in conduct, and the pure in thought ; These still exist, by thee to fame consigned (20) Still speak and act, the models of mankind. From thee sweet hope her airy colouring draws ; And fancy's flights are subject to thy laws. From thee that bosom-spring of rapture flows. Which only virtue, tranquil virtue, knows. When joy's bright sun has shed his evening-ray, And hope's delusive meteors cease to play : When clouds on clouds the smiling prospect close, Still through the gloom thy star serenely glows : Like yon fair orb, she gilds the brow of night Whh the mild magic of reflected light. The beauteous maid, that bids the world adieu. Oft of that world will snatch a fond review j Oft at the shrine neglect her beads, to trace Some social scene, some dear familiar face ; Forgot, when first a father's stern control Chased the gay visions of her opening soul : And ere, with iron tongue, the vesper bell Bursts through the cypress-walk, the convent-cell, Oft will her warm and wayward heart revive, To love and joy still tremblingly alive ; The whispered vow, the chaste caress prolong, Weave the light dance, and swell the choral song ; With rapt ear drink the enchanting serenade, And, as it melts along the moonlight-glade, To each soft note return as soft a sigh. And bless the youth that bids her slumbers fly. But not till time has calmed the ruflled breast. Are these fend dreams of happiness confest ; THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 28 Not till the rushing winds forget to rave, Is heaven's sweet smile reflected on the ware. From Guinea's coast pursue the lessening sail? And catch the sounds that sadden every gale. Tell, if thou canst, the sum of sorrows there ; Mark the fixed gaze, the wild and frenzied glare, The racks of thought, and freezings of despair I But pause not then — beyond the western wave, Go, view the captive bartered as a slave ! Crushed till his high heroic spirit bleeds, And from his nerveless frame indignantly recedes. Yet here, even here, with pleasures long resigned, Lo MEMORY bursts the twilight of the mind : Her dear delusion sooth his sinking soul. When the rude scourge assumes its base control ; And o'er futurity's blank page diffuse The full reflection of their vivid hues. 'Tis but to die, and then, to weep no more. Then will he wake on Congo's distant shore ; Beneath his plantain's ancient shade renew, The simple transports that with freedom flew ; Catch the cool breeze that musky evening blows. And quaff the palm's rich nectar as it glows; The oral talc of elder time rehearse. And chant the rude traditionary verse ; With those, the loved companions of his youth, When life was luxury, and friendship truth. Ah! why should virtue dread the frowns of fate ? Hers that no wealth can win, no power create ! A little world of clear and cloudless day. Nor wrecked by storms, nor mouldered by decay : O 3« THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. A world with memory's ceaseless sunshine blest. The home of happiness, an honest breast. But most we mark the wonders of her reign, When sleep has locked the senses in her chain. When sober judgment has his throne resigned, She smiles away the chaos of the mind ; And, as warm fancy's bright Elysium glows. From her each image springs, each colour flows. She is the sacred guest ! the immortal friend ! Oft seen o'er sleeping innocence to bend, In that dead hour of night to silence given, Whispering seraphic visions of her heaven. When the blithe son of Savoy, journeying round With humble wares and pipe of merry sound, From his green vale and sheltered Ccibin hies, And scales the Alps to visit foreign skies ; Though far below the forked lightnings play, And at his feet the thunder dies away. Oft in the saddle rudely rocked to sleep, While his mule browses on the dizzy steep. With memory's aid, he sits at home, and sees His children sport beneath their native trees. And bends to hear their cherub-voices call, O'er the loud fury of the torrent s fall. But can her smile with gloomy madness dwell .'' Say, can she chase the horrors of his cell .'' Each fiery flight on frenzy's wing restrain. And mould the coinage of the fevered brain .'' Pass but that grate, which scarce a gleam supplies, There in the dust the wreck of genius lies ! He, whose arresting hand sublimely wrought Each bold coaception in the sphere of thought } THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. SI Who from the quarried mass, like Phidias, drew Forms ever fair, creations ever new ! But, as he fondly snatched the wreath of fame, The spectre poverty unnerved his frame : Cold was her grasp, a withering scowl she wore ; And hope's soft energies were felt no more. Vet still haw sweet the soothings of his art ! (21) From the rude stone what bright ideas start! E'en now he claims the amaranthine wreath. With scenes that glow, with images that breathe ! And whence these scenes, these images, declare; Whence but from her who triumphs o'er despair ! Awake, arise I with grateful fervour fraught, Go, spring the mine of elevating thought. He who, through nature's various walk, surveys The good and fair her faultless line portrays ; W'hose mind, profaned by no unhallowed guest, Culls from the crowd the purest and the best ; May range, at will, bright fancy's golden clime, Or, musing, mount where science sits sublime, Or wake the spirit of departed time. Who acts thus wisely, mark the moral muse, A blooming Eden in his life reviews ! So rich the culture, though so small the space, Its scanty limits he forgets to trace : But the fond fool, when evening shades the sky, Turns but to start, and gazes but to sigh ! (22) The weary waste that lengthened as he ran, Fades to a blank, and dwindles to a span ! Ah ! who can tell the triumphs of the mind, By truth illumined, and by taste refined .'' S2 THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. When age has quenched the eye and closed the ear, Still nerved for action in her native sphere, Oft will she rise — with sparching glance pursue Some long-loved image vanished from her view ! Dart through the deep recesses of the past, O'er dusky forms in chains of slumber cast : With giant-grasp fling back the folds of night, And snatch the faithless fugitive to light. So through the grove the impatient mother flies, Each sunless glade, each secret pathway tries, Till the light leaves the truant boy disclose, Long on the wood-moss stretched in sweet repose. Nor yet to pleasing objects are confined The silent feasts of the retlecting mind, Danger and death a drea;l delight inspire ; And the bald veteran glows with wonted fire, When richly bronzed by many a summer-sun. He counts his scars, and tells what deeds were done. Go, with old Thames, view Chelsea's glorious pile ; And ask the shattered hero, whence his smile .' Go, view the splendid domes of Greenwich, go ; And own what raptures from reflection flow. Hail noble structures imaged in the wave ! A nation's grateful tribute to the brave. Hail blest retreats, from war and shipwreck, hail! That oft arrest the wondering stranger's sail. Long have ye heard the narratives of age, The battle's havoc, and the tempest's rage ; Long have ye known reflection's genial ray Gild the calm close of valour's various day. Time's sombrous touches soon correct the piece. Mellow each tint, and bid each discord cease : THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 33 A softer tone of light pervades the whole, And steals a pensive languor o'er the soul. Hast thou through Eden's wild-wood vales pursued Each mountain-scene, magnificently rude ? To mark the sweet simplicity of life, Far from the din of folly's idle strife : Nor, with attention's lifted eye, revered That modest stone which pious Pembroke reared: ^Vhich still records, beyond the pencil's power, The silent sorrows of a parting hour ; Still to the musing pilgrim points the place. Her sainted spirit most delights to trace. Thus, with the manly glow of honest pride, (23) O'er his dead son old Ormond nobly sighed. Thus, through the gloom of Shenstone's fairy grove, Maria's urn still breathes the voice of love. As the stern grandeur of a gothic tower Awes us less deeply in its morning hour, Then when the shades of time serenely fall On every broken arch and ivyed wall ; The tender images we love to trace. Steal from each -year ' a melancholy grace !' And as the sparks of social love expand, As the heart opens in a foreign land, And with a brother's warmth, a brother's smile, The stranger greets each native of his isle ; So scenes of life, when present and confest. Stamp but their bolder features on the breast; Yet not an image, when remotely viewed, However trivial, and however rude. But wins the heart, and wakes the social sigh With every claim of close affinity ! D 2 34 THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. But these pure joys the world can never know; In gentler climes their silver currents flow. Oft at the silent, shadowy close of day, When the hushed grove has sung its parting lay ; When pensive twilight, in her dnsky car, Comes slowly on to meet the evening star ; Above, below, aerial murmurs swell, From hanging wood, brown heath, and bushy dell ! A thousand nameless rills, that shun the light, Stealing soft music on the ear of night. So oft the finer movements of the soul, That shun the sphere of pleasures gay control, In the still shades of calm seclusion rise. And breathe their sweet seraphic harmonies ' Once, and domestic annals tell the time. Preserved in Cumbria's rude, romantic clime. When nature smiled, and o'er the landscape threw Her richest fragrante, and her brightest hue, A blithe and blooming forester explored Those nobler scenes Salvator's soul adored ; The rocky pass half hung with shaggy wood, And the cleft oak, flung boldly o'er the flood. High on exulting wing the heath-cock rose, (24) And blew his shrill blast o'er perennial snows ; When the wrapt youth, recoiling from the roar, Gazed on the tumbling tide of dread Lodoar ; And through the rifted clifis, that scaled the sky, Derwent's clear mirror charmed his dazzled eye. (25) Each osier isle, inverted on the wave, Through morn's grey mist its melting colours gave ; And o'er the cygnet's haunt, the mantling grove ; Its emerald arch with wild luxuriance wove. THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 55 Light as the breeze tliat brushed the orient dew, From rock to rock the young' adventurer flew j And days last sunshine slept along the shore, When lo, a path the smile of welcome wore. Imbowering shrubs with verdure veiled the sky. And on the musk-rose shed a deeper dye ; Save when a mild and momentary gleam Glanced from the white foam of some sheltered stream- O'er the the still lake the bell of evening tolled, And on the moor the shepherd penned his told ; And on the green hill's side the meteor played ; When, hark ! a voice sung sweetly through the shade, It ceased — yet still in Florio's fancy sung, Still on each note his captive spirit hung; Till o'er the mead a cool sequestered grot From its rich roof a sparry lustre shot. A crystal water crossed the pebble floor, And on the front these simple lines it bore : Hence away, nor dare intrude ! In this secret, shadowy cell Musing MiMvioRY loves to dwell, With her sister Solitude. Far from the busy world she flies, To taste that peace the world denies. Intranced she sits ; from youth to age, Reviewing life's eventful page ; And noting, ere they fade away. The little lines of yesterday. Florid had gained a rude and rocky seat. When lo, the genius of this still retreat ! Fair waj: her form — but who can hope to trace The pensive softness of her angel-face ? 36 THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. Can Virgil's verse, can Raphael's touch impart Those finer features of the feeling heart, Those tenderer tints that shun the careless eye, And in the world's contagious climate die ? She left the cave, nor marked the stranger there ; ^ Her pastoral beaut)^, and her artless air, Had breathed a soft enchantment o'er his soul ! In every nerve he felt her blest control ! What pure and white-winged agents of the ^y, Who rule the springs of sacred sympathy. In form congenial spirits when they meet ? Sweet is their office, — as their nature sweet ! Florio, with fearful joy, pursued the maid Till through a vista's moonlight-checquered shade, AVhere the bat circled, and the rocks reposed. Their wars suspended, and their councils closed ; An antique mansion burst in awful state, A rich vine clustering round its gothic gate. Nor paused he there. The master of the scene Saw his light step imprint the dewy green ; And, slow advancing, hailed him as his guest, Won by the honest warmth his looks exprest. He v^•ore the rustic manners of a squire, Age had not quenched one spark of manly fire; But giant gout had bound him in her chain, And his heart panted for the chase in vain. Yet here remembrance, sweetly-soothing power ! Winged with delight confinements lingering hour. The foxes brush still emulous to wear, He scoured the county in his elbow-chair ; And, with view -hallo, roused the dreaming hound, That rung, by starts, his deep-toned music round. THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. S'T Long by the paddock's humble pale confined His ag-ed hunters course the viewless wind ; And each, with glowing energy pourtrayed, The far-famed triumphs of the field displayed ; Usurped the canvass of the crowded hall, And chased a line of heroes from the wall. There slept the horn each jocund echo knew, And many a smile and many a story drew ! High o'er the hearth his forest-trophies hung, And their fantastic branches wildly flung. How would he dwell on each vast antler there ! This dashed the wave, that fanned the mountain air ; Each, as it frowned, unwritten records bore, Of gallant feats and festivals of yore. But why the tale prolong ? — his only child. His darling Julia on the stranger smiled. Her little arts a fretful sire to please, Her gentle gaiety and native ease, Had won his soul ; and. rapturous fancy shed Her golden lights and tints of rosy red : But ah ! few days had passed f re the bright vision fled. When evening tinged the lake's etht^real blue, And her deep shades irregularly threw ; Their shifting sail dropt gently from the cove, Down by St. Herbert's consecrated grove ; (26) Whence erst the chanted hymn, the tapered rite, Amused the fisher's solitary night; And still the mitred window, richly wreathed, A sacred calm through the brown foliage breathed. The wild deer, starting through the silent glade, With fearful gaze, theur various course surveyed. 38 THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. High hang- in air the hoary goat reclined, His streamine;beai-d the sport of every wind; And as the coot her jet-wing loved to lave, Rocked on the bosom of the sleepless wave ; The eagle rushed from Skiddaw's purple crest, A cloud still brooding o'er her giant nest. And now the moon had dimmed, with dewy ray, The (ew fine flushes of departing day ; O'er the wide water's deep serene she hung, And her broad lights on every mountain flung ; When lo ! a sudden blast the vessel blew, (27) And to the surge consigned its little crew. AD, all escaped — but ere the lover bore His faint and faded Julia to the shore. Her sense had fled ! — exhausted by the storm, A fatal trance hung o'er her pallid form ; Her closing eye a trembling lustre fired ; -'Tv.a3 life's last spark — it fluttered and expired. The father strewed his white hairs in the wind, Called on his child — nor lingered long behind : And Florio lived to see the willow wave, With many an evening whisper o'er their grave. Yes, Florid lived — and, still of each possest, The father cherished, and the maid carest ! For ever would the fond enthusiast rove. With Julia's spirit through the shadowy grove ; Gaze with delight on every scene she planned, Kiss every floweret planted by her hand. Ah ! still he traced her steps along the glade, When hazy hues and glimmering lights betrayed Half viewless forms ; still listened as the breeze Heaved its deep sobs among the aged trees ; THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 38 And at each pause her mehing accents caught, In sweet delirium of romantic thought ! Dear was the grot that shunned the blaze of day ; She gave its spars to shoot a trembling ra}'. The spring, that bubbled from its inmost cell, Murmured of Julia's virtues as it fell ; And o'er the dripping moss, the fretted stone, la Florio's ear breathed language not its own. Her charm around the enchantress Memory threw, A charm that sooths the mind, and sweetens too. But is her magic only felt below .'' Say, through what brighter realms she bids it flow ; To what pure beings, in a nobler sphere, (28) She yields delight but faintly imaged here .'' All that till now their rapt researches knew, Not called in slow succession to review ; But, as a landscape meets the eye of day, At once presented to their glad survey ! Each scene of bliss revealed, since chaos fled, And dawning light its dazzling glories spread ; Each chain of wonders that sublimely glowed, Since first creation's choral anthem flowed. Each ready flight, at mercy's suiile divine. To distant worlds that undiscovered shine ; Full on her tablet flings its living rays, And all, combined, with blest effulgence blaze. There thy bright train, immortal friendship, soar No more to part, to mingle tears no more ! And, as the softening hand of time endears The joys and sorrows of our infant years. So there the soul, released from human strife, Smiles at the little cares and ills of life ; 4» THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. Its lights and shades, its sunshine and its showers ! As at a dream that charmed her vacant hours ! Olt may the spirits of the dead descend, To watch the silent shimbers of a friend ; To hover round his evening-walk unseen, And hold sweet converse on the dusky green ; To hail the spot where first their friendship grew, And neaven and nature opened to their view I Oft, when he trims his cheerful hearth, and see* A smiling circle emulous to please ; There may these gentle guests delight to dwell. And bless the scene they loved in life so well ! Oh thou ! with whom my heart was wont to share From reason's dawn each pleasure and each care ; With whom, alas ! 1 fondly hoped to know The humble walks of happiness below ; If thy blest nature now unites above An angel's pity with a brother's love, Stiil o'er my life preserve thy mild control, Correct my views, and elevate my soul. Grant me thy peace and purity of mind, Devout yei cheerful, active yet resigned ; Grant me, like thee, whose heart knew no disguise,. Whose blameless wishes never aimed to rise, To meet the changes time and chance present. With modest dignity and calm content. When thy last breath, ere nature sunk to rest, Thy meek submission to thy God expressed ; When thy last look, ere thought and feeling fled, A mingled gleam of hope and triumph shed; What to thy soul its glad assurance gave. Its hope in death, its triumph o'er the grave ' THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. Xlie sweet remembrance of unblemished youth, The inspiring voice of innocence and truth ! Hail, Memory, hail ! in thy exhaustless mine From age to age unnumbered treasures shine ! Thought and her shadowy brood thy call obey, And place and time are subject to thy sway ! Thy pleasures most we feel, when most alone ; The only pleasures we can call our own. Lighter than air, hope's summer visions die, If but a fleetcng cloud obscure the sky ! If but a beam of sober reason play, Lo, fancy's fairy, frost-work melts away \ But can the wiles of art, the grasp of power, Snatch the rich relics of a well-spent hour ? These when the trembling spirit wings her flight, Pour round her path a stream of living light : And gild those pure and perfect realms of rest, Where virtue triumphs, and her sons are blest. END OF THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. NOTES ON THE FIRST PART. NOTE I.Page 17. Awake but one, and lo, what myriads rise ! When a traveller, who was surveying the ruins of Ilome, expressed a desire to procure some relic of its an- cient grandeur, Poussin, who attended him, stooped down, and gathered up a handful of earth shiuiiii; with small grains of porphyry, * Take this home,' said he, ' for your cabinet ; and say boldly, Questa e Roma Antica. NOTE 2. Page 17. Th& church-yard yews, round loliich his fathers sleep. Every man, like Gulliver in Lilliput, is fastened to some spot of earth, by the thousand small threads that habit, and association are continually stealing over him. Of these, perhaps, one of the strongest is here alluded to. a NOTES ON THE FIRST PART When the Canadian Indians were once solicited to emi- grate, ' What !' they replied, ' shall we say to the bones of our fathers, arise, go with us into a foreign land ?' Hist, des Indes, par M. I'Abbe Raynal, vi. 21. NOTE 3. Page 18. So, xohen he breathed his firm yet fond adieu — He wept -, but the effort that he made to conceal his tears concurred, with them, to dohim honour ; he went to the mast head, waving to tfie canoes as long as they con- tinued in sight. Hawkesworth's Voyages, ii. 181. Another very affecting instance of local attachment is related of hisfellow-coujitryman Potaveri, who came to Europe, with M. de Bougainville. See Les Jardins, par M 1' Abbe de Lille, chant ii. NOTE 4. Page 18. So Scotia's queen, ^c. Elle se leve sur son lict, &. se met a contempler la France encor, et tant qu' elle peut. Brantome, torn. i. p. 140. NOTE 5. Page 18. ^5 kindred objects kindred thoughts inspire-— To an accidental association may be ascribed some of the noblest efforts of human genius. The historian of the decline and fall of the Roman empire first conceived his de- sign among the ruins of the capital ; and to the tones of OF THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. 45 a Welsh harp are we indebted for the bnrd of Gray. Gibbon's Hist. xii. 432. — Memoirs of Gray, sect. iv. let. 26. NOTE 6. Page 18. Hence home-felt pleasure., <^c. Who can sufficiently admire the affectionate attach- ment of Plutarch, who thus concludes his enumeration of the advantages of a great city to men of letters; ' As to my- self, 1 live in a little town; and I choose to live there, lest it should become still less.' Vit. Dei». NOTE 7. Page 19. For this FoscARi, ^c. This young man was suspected of murder, and at Ve- nice suspicion is good evidence. Neither the interest of the Doge, his father, nor the intrepidity of conscious in- nocence, which he exhibited in the dungeon and on the rack, could procure his acquittal. He was banished to the island of Candia for life. But here his resolution failed him. At such a distance from home he could not live ; and as it was a criminal offence to solicit the intercession of any foreign prince, in a fit of despair he addressed a letter to the duke of Milan, and intrusted it to a wretch whose perfidy, he knew, would occasion his being remanded a prisoner to Ve- nice. See Dr. Moore's View of Society in Italy, vol. i. let. 11. E 2 4S UOTES ON THE FIRST PART NOTE 8. Page 19. And ivatch and loecf in Eloisa's cell. The Paraclete founded by Abelard, in Champagne. NOTE 9. Page 19. Tivas ever thus. As now at Virgil's tomb — Vows and pilgrimages are not peculiar to the reli- gious enthusiast. Silius Italicus performed annual cere- monies on the mountain of Posilippo ; and it was there that Boccaccio, quasi da un divino estro inspirato, resolv- ed to dedicate his life to the muses. NOTE 10. Page 19. ■So TuLLY paused amid the lorecks of time. When Cicero was quaestor in Sicily, he discovered the tomb of Archimedes by its mathematical inscription. Tusc. Quaest. 5. 3. NOTE 11. Page 19. Say why the pensive widow loves to toeep. The influence of the associating principle is finely ex- emplified in the faithful Penelope; when she sheds tears over the bow of Ulysses. Od. xxi. 55. OF THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY- 47 ^OTE 12. Page 20. Jf chance he hears the song so sweetly wild'— The celebrated Ranz des Vaches ; cet air si cheri des Suisses qu'il fut defendu sous peine de mort de le jouer dans lenrs troupes, parce qu' il faisoit fondre en larmes, deserter ou mourir ceux qui I'entendoient, tant il excitoit en eux I'ardent desir de revoir leur pays. RousSEAUj Dictionnaire de Musique. NOTE 13. Page 20. Say why Vespasian loved his Sabine farm. This emperor, according to Suetonius, constantly pass- ed the summer in a small villa near Reate, where he was born, and to which he would never add any embellish- ment ; ne quid scilicet oculorum consuetudini depenret Suet, in Vit. Vesp. cap. ii. \ similar instance occurs in the life of the venerable Pertinax, as related by J. Capitolinus. Posteaquam in Li- guriam venit, multis agris coemptis, tabernam paternam, monente fortna priore, infinitis aedificiis circundedit. Hist. August. 54. And it is said of Cardinal Richelieu, that, when he built his magnificent palace on the site of the old family chateau at Richelieu, he sacrificed its symmetry to pre- serve the room in which he was born. Memoires de Mile, de Montpensier, i. 27. An attachment of this nature is generally the charac- teristic of a benevolent mind ; and a long acquaintance with the world cannot always extinguish it. To a friend, says John, Duke of Buckingham, I will ex pose my weakness ; I am oftener missing a pretty gallery 4,8 KOTES ON THE FIRST PART in the old house I pulled down, than pleased with a sa- loon which I built in its stead, though a thousand times better in all respects. See his Letter to the D. of Sh. This is the language of the heart : and will remind the reader of that good-humoured rcmarl< in one of Pope's Letters — I should hardly care to have on old post pulled np, that I rememhcred ever since 1 was a child. Pope's Works, viii. 131. Nor did the poet feel the charm more forcibly than his editor. See HuRu's Life of VVarburton, 51,99. The elegant author of Telemacljus has illustrated this subject, with equal fancy and feeling, in the story of Ali- beePersan. See Recucilde Fables, composeespourrEdu- oation d'un prince. NOTE 14. Page 20. TFJiy g^reat Navarre, m-c. That amiable and accomplished monarch, Henry the fourth of France, made an excursion from his camp, during the long seige of Laon, to dine at a house in the forest of Folambray, where he had often been regaled, when a boy, with fruit, milk, and new cheese ; and in revisiting which he promised himself great pleasure. Memoires de Sully, torn. ii. p. 381. NOTE 15. Page 20. When Diocletian's self-corrected mind — Diocletian retired into his native province, and there amused himself with building, planting and gardening. His answer to Maximian is deservedly celebrated. He was solicited by that restless old min to reassume the reins of s^overunneut and the imperial purple. He reject- OF THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. f» ed the temptation with a smile of pity, calmly observing-, that if he could show Maximian the cabbages which he plgtnted with his own hands at Saiona, he should no lon- ger be urged to relinquish the enjoyment of happiness for the pursuit of power. Gibbon, ii. 175. NOTE 16. Page 20. Say, why ambitious Charles renounced a throne — When the emperor Charles V. had executed his me- morable It solution, and had set out for the monastery of St. Justus, be stopped a few days at Ghent, says his historian, to indulge that tender and pleasant melan- choly, which arises in the mind of every man in the de- cline of life, on visiting the place of his nativity, and view- ing the scenes and objects familiar to him in his earljr youth. Robertson's Hist. iv. 256. NOTE 17. Page 21. 77?en did his horse tlie homeward track descry. The memory of the horse forms the ground-work of d pleasing little romance of the twelfth century, entitled the '' Gre} Palfrey." See the tales of the trouveurs, as collected by M. Le Grand — Fabliaux ou Contest du XII et du XIII Siecle. iv. 195. Ariosto likewise introduces it in a passage full of truth and nature. When Bayardo meets Angelica in the forest, . . . , Va manfueto a la Donzella. Ch'in Albracca il servia gia di sua mano. Orlando Furioso. canto i. 75. W HOTES ON THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. NOTE 18. Pag 22. Sweet bird thy trrdh shall Harlem's walls attest. During' the seige of Harlem, when that city was re- duced to the last extremity, and on the point of opening its g'ates to a base and barbarous enemy, a design was formed to relieve it ; and the intelligence was conveyed to the citizens by a letter which was tied under the wing of a pigeon. Thuanus, lib. Iv. c. 5. The same messenger was em]>loyed at the seige qf Mutina, as we are informed by the elder Pliny, Hist. J\at. X. 37. NOTE 19. Page 22. Hark .' the bee, ^c. This little animal, from the extreme convexity of hf^ eye caiuioi see many iucbefi before her. NOTES ON THE SECOND PART. NOTE 20. Page 28. These still exist, ^c. THEREisafuture existence even in this woild; an exist- ence in the hearts and minds of those who shall live after us. It is In reserve for every man, however obscure; and his portion, if he be diligent, must be equal to his de- sires. For in whose remembrance can we wish to hold a place, but such as know, and are known by us .-• These are within the sphere of our influence, and among these and their descendants we may live evermore. It is a state of rewards and punishments ; and like that revealed to us in the gospel, has the happiest influence on our lives. The latter excites us to gain the favour of God ; the former to gain the love and esteem of wise and good men ; and both conduce to the same end ; for in framing our conceptions of the deity, we only ascribe to him exalted degrees of wisdom and goodness. «2 NOTES ON THE SECOND PART NOTE 21. Page 31, Yet still how sweet the soothings of his art. The astronomer chalking his figures on the wall in, Hogarth's view of Bedlam, is an admirable exemplifica- tion of this idea. See the Rake's Progress; plate 8. NOTE 22. Page 31. Turns bvi to start, and gazes but to sigh ! The following stanzas are said to have been written oh a blank leaf of this Poem. They present so affecting a reverse of the picture, that \ cannot neglect the opportu- nity of introducing them here. Pleasures of memory ; — oh supremely blest And justly proud beyoad a poet's praise ; If the pure confines of tiiy tranquil breast Contam, indeed, the subject of ihy lays J By me how envied ; — for to me, The herald still of misery, Memory makes her influence known By sighs, and tears, and grief, alone J I greet her as the fiend, to whom belong The vulture's ravening beak, tlif^ raven's funeral song. Alone, at midnight's haunted hour, When nature woo's repose in vain, Remembrance wastes iier penal power, The tyrant of the burning brain; She tells of time mispent, of comfort lost, Of fair occasions gone for ever by ; Of hopes too fondly nursed, too rudely crest, Of many a cause to wish; yet fear, to die ; OF THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY Si For what, except the instinctive fear Lest she survive, detains me liere, When " all the life of life" is fled ?— What, but the deep inherent dread, Lest she beyond the grave resume her reign And realize the hell that priests and beldams feign! NOTE 23. Page 33. Hast thou through Eden's wild-wood vales pwsued, ^c. On the road-side between Penrith and Appelby, stands ai small pillar with this inscription : 'This pillar was erected in the year 1656; by Ann Countess Dowager of Pembroke, kc. for a memorial of her last parting in this place, with her good and pious mother, Margaret, Countess Dowager of Cumberland, on the 2d of April 1616 : in memory whereof she hath ^eft an annuity of 41. to be distributed to the poor of the parish of Brougham, every 2d day of April for ever, up- on the stone-table placed hard by. Laus Deo !' The Eden is the principal river of Cumberland, and has its source in the wildest part of Westmoreland. NOTE 23. Page 33. TViMS with the manly glow of honest pride f O'er his dead son old Ormond nobly sighed. Ormond bore the loss with patience and dignity, though he ever retained a pleasing, however melancho- ly, sense of the signal merit of Ossory. ' I would not ex- change my dead son,' said he, • for any living son in Christendom.' Hume, vi. 340. 54 HOTES ON THE SECOND PAUT The same sentiment is inscribed on Miss Dolman's uri, at the Leasowes. Heu, quanto minus est cum reliquis versari, quam tui meminisse ! NOTE 24. Page 34. High on exulting wing the heath-cock rose. This bird, according to Mr. Pennant, is remarkable for kis exultation during the spring ; when he calls the hen to his haunts with a loud and shrill voice, and is so inat- tentive to his own safety as to be easily shot. Bnt. Zoo- logy, 266. NOTE 25. Page 34. DerwenVs clear mirror, ^c. The lake of Keswick, in Cumberland. NOTE 26. Page 37. Down by St. Herbert's consecrated grove. A small wooded island once dignified with a religious house. NOTE 27. Page 38. When to ! a sudden blast the vessel blew. In a lake, surrounded with mountains, the agitations are •ften violent aad momentary. The winds blow in OP THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. S5 gusts and eddies ; and the water no sooner swells, than it subsides. See Bourn's Hist, of Westmoreland. NOTE 28. Page 39. To what pure lieirigs, in a nobler sphere, She uields delight but faintly imaged here. The several decrees of angels may probably have lar- ger views, and s(.nie of them be endcAved with capaci- ties able to retain together, and coiislantly set before them, as in one picture, all their past knowledge at once. Locke on Human Understanding, book ii, chap, x. 0, 0D1> SUPERSTITION I. 1. Hence, to the realms of night, dhc demon, hence ! Thy chain of adamant can bind That little world the human mind, And sink its noblest powers to impotence Wake the lion's loudest roar, Clot his shagg'y mane with gore, With flashing- fur^' bid his eye-balls suine; Meek is his savage, sullen soul to thine! [breast, (1) Th}' touch, thy deadening touch, has steeled the Whence, through her rainbow-shower, soft pity Has closed the heart each godlike virtue blest, [smiled : To all the silent pleadin-rs of his child. At thy command he plants the dagger deep, \t thv command exuhs, though nature bids him weep'. F 2 S8 ODE TO 80PERSTITION. I. 2. When, with a frown that froze the peopled earth, (2) Thou darted'st thy huge head from high, Night waved her banners o'er the sky And, brooding, gave her shapeless shadows birth. Rocking on the billowy air. Ha ! what withering phantoms glare ! As blows the blast with many a sullen swell, At each dead pause, what shrill toned voices yell? The sheeted spectre rising from the tomb, Points at the murderer's stab, and shudders by j In every grove is felt a heavier gloom. That veils its genius from the vulgar eye ; The spirit of the water rides the storm. And through tlxe midst, reveals the terrors of his form. I. 3. O'er solid seas, where winter reigns. And holds each mountain-wave in chains, The fur-clad savage, ere he guides his deer (3) By glittering star-light through the snow. Breathes softly in her wondering ear Each potent spell thou bad'st him know. By thee inspired, on India's sands, Full in the sun the bramin stands : (4) And, while the panting tigress hies To quench her fever in the stream, His spirit laughs in agonies, (5) Smit by the scorchings of the noontide beam. Mark who mounts the sacred pyre. Blooming in her bridal vest : She hurls the torch ! she fans the fire ! To die is to be blest: (6) ODE TO SUPERSTITION. 5d She clasps uer lord to part no more, And, sighing, sinks ! but sinks to soar. O'ershadowing Scotia's desert coast, The sisters sail in dusky state, C?) And, wrapt in clouds, in tempests tost, Weave the airy web of fate ; While the lone shepherd, near the shipless main, (8) Sees o'er her hills advance the long drawn funeral train. II. 1. Thou spakest, and lo ! a new creation glowed, Each unhewn mass of living stone Was clad in horrors not its own, And at its base the trembling nations bowed. Giant error, darkly grand, Grasped the globe with iron hand. Circled with seats of bliss, the lord of light Saw prostrate worlds adore his golden height. The statue, waking with immortal powers, (9) Springs from its parent earth, and shakes the spheres, The indignant pyramid sublimely towers, And braves the efforts of a host of years. Sweet music breathes her soul into the wind, [mind. And bright-eyed painting stamps the image of the II. 2. Round their rude ark old Egypt's sorcerers rise ! A timbrelled anthem swells the gale. And bids the god of thunders hail ; (10) With lowings loud the captive god replies. Clouds of incense woo thy smile. Scaly monarch of the Nile ! (U) But ah ! what myriads claim the bended knee .'' (12) Go, count the busy drops that swell the sea. S9 tDE TO SUPERSTITION. Proud land ; what eye can traro (hy mystic lore ? Lockerl up in characters as dark as night ! (13) Whateve those long, longlabyrinths dare explore, (14) To which the parted soid o(t wings her flight; Again to visit her cold cell of clay» Charmed with perennial sweets, and smiling at decay? II. 3. On yon hoar summit, mildly bright (15) With purple ether's liquid light, High o'er the world, the white-robed magi gaze On dazeling bursts of heavenly fire ; Start at each blue, portentous blaze, Each flame that flits with adverse spire. But say, what sounds my ear invade (16) From Delphi's venerable shade ? The temple rocks, the laurel waves ! * The god! the god!' the sybil cries. Her figure swells ! she foams ! she raves ! Her figure swells to more than mortal size ! Streams of rapture roll along. Silver notes ascend the skies : Wake, echo, wake, and catch tuy, ao.ij^, Oh catch it ere it dies. The sibyl si)eaks, the dream is o cr, > The holy harpings charm no more. In vain she checks the god's controul ; His madning spirit fills her frame, And moulds the features of her soul, Breathing a prophetic flame. III. 1. The cavern frowns I its hundred mouths unclose ! And, iu the thunder's voice, the fate of empire flows ODE TO SUPERSTITION. til Mona, thy druid-rites awake the dead ! Rites thy brown oaks will never dare Even whisper to the idle air ; Rites that have chained old ocean on his bed. Shivered by thy piercing glance, Pointless falls the hero's lance, Thy magic bids the imperial eagle fly, (17) And blasts the laureate wreath of victory. Hark, the bard's soul inspires the vocal string! At every pause dread silence hovers o'er : While murky night sails round on raven-wing, Deepening the tempest's howl, the torrent's roar j Chased by the morn from Snowdon's awful brow, [low. Where late she sat and scowled on the black wave be- m. 2. Lo steel-clad war his gorgeous standard rears ! The red-cross squadrons madly rage, (18) And mow through infancy and age j Then kiss the sacred dust and melt in tears. Veiling from the eye of day. Penance dreams her life away ; In cloistered solitude she sits and sighs, While, from each shrine, still small responses rise. Hear, with what heart-felt beat, the midnight bell Swings its slow summons through the hollow pile ! The weak, wan votarist leaves her twilight cell. To walk, with taper dim, the winding aisle ; With coral chantings vainly to aspire. Beyond this nether sphere, on rapture's wing of fire, III. 3. Lord of each pang the nerves can feel, Hence, with the rack and reeking weel. «^ ODE TO SUPERSTITION. Faith lifts the soul above this little ball! While gleams of glory open round, And circling choirs of an^^els call. Canst thou, with all thy terrors crowned, Hope to obscure that latent spark, Destined to shine when suns are dark ? Thy triumphs cease ! through every land, Hark! truth proclaims thy triumphs cease; Her heavenl}^ form, with glowing hand, Benignly points to piety and peace. Flushed with youth, her looks impart Each tine feeling as it flows ; Her voice the echo of her heart, Pure as the mountain-snows; Celestial transports round her play, And softly, sweetly die away. She smiles ! and where is now the cloud That blackened o'er thy baleful reign ? Grim darkness furls his leaden shroud, Shrinking from her glance in vain. Her touch unlocks the day-spring from above, Andj lo ! it visits man with beams ot light and lore. NOTES ODE TO SUPERSTITION. NOTE 1. Page 57. An allusion to the sacrifice of Iphigema. NOTE 2. Page 58. Quae caput a coeli regionibus ostendebat, Horribili super aspectu mortalibus instans. Lucretius, 1. i. v. 65. NOTES. Page 58. When we were read}' to set out, our host muttered some words in the ears of our cattle. S«e a voyage to the north ef Europe, in 1S$3. 64 NOTES 0:N THE ODE TO SUPERSTITION. NOTE 4. Page 58. The bramins voluntarily expose their bodies to the in- tense heat of the sun. NOTES. Page 58. Ridens moriar. The conclusion of an old Runic ode, preserved by Olaus Wormius. NOTE 6. Page 58. In the Bedas, or sacred writings of the Hindoos, is this passage : — She who dies with her husband, shall live for ever with him in heaven. NOTE 7. Page 59. The fates of the northern mythology. See Mallet's Antiquities. NOTE 8. Page 59. An allusion to the second sight. NOTE 9. Page 59. See that fine description of the sudden animation of the Palladium in the second book of the iEneid. NOTE 10. Page 69. The bull Apis. NOTE 11. Page 59. The Crocodile. ROTES ON THE ODE TO SUPERSTITION. 68 NOTE 12. Page 59. 3o numerous were the deities of Egypt, tliat, accord- ing to an ancient proverb, it was in that country less dif- ficult to find a god than a man. NOTE 13. Page 60. Hierogl^'phics. NOTE 14. Page 60. The catacombs, in which the bodies of the earliest generations yet remain without corruption, by virtue of the gums that embalmed them. NOTE 15. Page 60. ' The Persians,' says Herodotus, ' reject the use of temples, altars, and statues. The tops of the highest mountains are the places chosen for sacrifices, i 131. The elements, and more particularly fire, were the ob- jects of their religious reverence. NOTE 16. Page 60. In imitation of some wonderful lines in the sixth boos: of the .^neid. NOTE 17. Page 60. See Tacitus, 1. xiv. c. 69. G 86 NOTES ON THE ODE TO SUPERSTITION. NOTE 18. Page 61. This remarkable event happened at the siege and sack af Jerusalem, in the last year of the eleventh century, when the triumphant croises, after every enemy vi^as sub- dued and slaughtered, immediately turned themselves, with sentiments of humiliation and contrition, towards the holy sepulchre. They threw aside their arms, still streaming with blood; they advanced with reclined bo- dies, and naked feet and head, to that sacred monument : they sung anthems to their Saviour, who had purchased their salvation by his death and agony: and their devo- tion, enlivened by the presence of the place where he had suffered, so overcame their fury, that they dissolved in tears, and bore the appearance of every soft and ten- tier sentiment. Htjmb i. 221. i» EPISTLE TO A FRIEND- Villula et pauper agelle, Me tihi, et hos una mecum, quos semper amari, Gommendo. PREFACE. Every reader turns wit'i pleasure to those passages of Horace, Pope, aud BoKeau, which describe how they lived, aud where tliey dwelt ; and which, being inter- spersed among their satirical writings, derive a secret and irresistiule grace from the contrast, and are admira- ble examples of what in painting is termed repose. We have admittance to Horace at all hours. We en- joy the company and conversation at his table ; and his suppers, like Plato's, ' non solum in prsesentia, sed etiam posterodie jucundae sunt.' But, when we look round as we sit there, we find ourselves in a Sabine farm, and not in a Roman villa. His windows have every charm of prospect ; but his furniture might have descended fromCincinnatus; and gems, and pictures, and old marbles, are mentioned by him more than once with a seeming indifierence. His English imitator thought and felt, perhaps, more correctly on the subject; and embellished his garden and grotto with great industry aud success. But to these alone he solicits our notice. On the ornaments of his house he is silent; and appears to have reserved all the minuter touches of his pencil for the library, the chapel, and the banqueting room of Ti- mon. ' Le savoir de notre siecle,' says Rousseau, * tend beaucoup plus a detruire qu' aedifier. On censure d' un ton de maitre ; pour proposer, il en faut prendre un autre.' It is the design of this epistle, to illustrate the virtue of true taste, and to show how little she requires to secure, not only the comforts, but even the elegancies of life. True taste is an excellent economist. She confines her choice to few objects, and delights in producing great effects b}' small means ; while false taste is for ever sigh- ing eifter the new and the rare ; and reminds us, in her works, of the scholar of Apelles, who not being able to paint his Helen beautiful, determined to make her fine. G 2 ARGUMENT. Ar invitation, v. 1. ^he approach to a villa describ- ed, V. 5. Its situation, v. 17. Its few apartments, v, 57i furnished with casts from the antique, and engravings from the Italian masters, v. 63. The dining-room, v. 83. The library, v. 89. A cold bath, v. 101. An ice-house, V. 111. A winter walk, v. 1.57. A summer walk, v. 169. The invitation renewed, v. 203. Conclusion, v. 211. AN EPISTLE TO A FRIEND. When with a Reaujiur's skill, thy curious mind Has classed the insect-tribes of human kind, Each with its busy hum, or gilded wing-, Its subtle web-work, or its venoiued sting; Let me, to claim a few unvalut-d hours, [flowers j Point the green lane that leads through fern and The sheltered gate that o{»eus to my field, And the white front through mingling elms revealed. In vain, alas, a village friend invites To siuiple comforts and domestic rites, When the gay months of Carnival resume Their annual round of glitter an hermit cell ; The mossy pales that skirt the orchard -green, Here hid by shrub-wood, there by glimpses seen; And the brown pathway, that with careless flow, Sinks, and is lost among- the trees below. Still must it trace, the datterinij tints forgive, Each fleeting- charm that bids the landscape live. Oft o'er the mead, at pieasing distance, pass (1) Browsing the hedge by fits the panniered ass ; The idling shepherd boy, with rude deSight, Whistling his dog to mark the pebble's flfght ; And in her kerchief blue the cottage maid, With brimming pitcher from the shadowy glade. Far to the south a mountain-vale retires, Bich in its groves, and gh'ns, and village-spires J Its upland lawns, and clifls with foliage hung. Its wizard-stream, nor nameless, nor unsung; And through the various year, the various day, (2) What scenes of glory burst, and melt away ! When April verdure springs in Grosvenor-square, And the furred beauty comes to winter there. She bids old nature mar the plan no more, Yet still the seasons circle as before. Ah, still as soon the young Aurora plays, [blaze; Though moons and flambeaux trail their broadest As soon the sky-lark pours his matin song. Though evening lingers at the mask so long-. There let her strike with momentary ray. As tapers shine their little lives away ; AN EPTSTLE TO A FRIEND. 75 There let her practice from herself to steal, And look the happiness she does not feel; The ready smile and bidden blush employ At faro-routs that dazzle to destroy : Fan witli affected ease the essenced air, And lisp of fashions with unmeaning stare. Be thine to meditate an humbler flight, When mornino^ fills the fields with rosy light; Be thine to blend, nor thine a vulgar aim. Repose with dignity, with quiet fame. Here no state- chambers in long line unfold, Bright with broad mirrors, rough with fretted gold ; Yet modest ornament with use combined, Attracts the eye to exercise the mind. [quires, (3) Small change of scene, small space his home re- Who leads a life of satisfied desires. What though no marble breathes, no canvass glows, From every point a ray of genius flows ! (4) Be mine to bless the more mechanic skill, That stamps, renews, and multiplies at will ; And cheaply circulates through distant climes, The fairest relics of the purest times. Here from the mould to conscious b?ing, start Those finer forms, the miracles of art ; Here chosen gems, impressed on sulphur, shine, That slept for ages in a second mine; And here the faithful graver dares to trace A Michael's grandeur, and a Raphael's grace ! Thy gallery, Florence, gilds my humble walls, And my low roof the Vatican recalls ! Soon as the morning-dream my pillow fliegj To waking- sense wUat brighter visioas rise ! ■74 AN EPISTLE TO A FRIEND. O mark! again the coursers of the sun, (5) At GuiDo's call, their round of glory run ! Again the rosy hours resume their llight, Obscured and lost in floods of golden light ! But could thine erring friend so long forget, Sweet source of pensive joy "and fund regret, That here its warmest hues the pencil flings, Lo ! here the lost restor. s, the absent brings ; And still the few best loved and most revered (6) Rise round the board their social smile endeared ? (7) Selected shelves shall claim thy studious hours; There shall thy ranging mind be fed on flowers ! There, while the shaded lanips mild lustre streams,* Read ;mcient books, or woo inspiring dreams; (8) And when a sages bust arrests thee there, (9) Pause, and his features with his thoughts compare. Ah, most that art my grateful rapture calls. Which breathes a soul into the sih'nt walls ;t Which gathers round the wise of every tongue, (10) All on whose words departed nations hung; Still prompt to cliarm with many a converse sweet ; Guides in the world, companions in retreat ! Though my thatched bath no rich mosaic knows, A limped stream with unfelt current flows. Emblem ot life I which, still as we survey, Seems motionless, yet ever glides away! * . . . . apis Matinee More modf)que Grata carpentis ihyma .... Hor. fPostea vero quam TyrHiniio mihi libros disposuit mens addiia videiur in«i$ ssdibus. Cic. AN EPISTLE TO A FRIEND. 75 The shadowy walls record, with attic art, The strength and beauty that its whv.'>s impart. Here Thktis, bending with a mother's fears, Dips her dt-ar boy, whose pride restrains his tears. There, Venus, rising', shrinks with sweet surprise, As her lair self reflected seems to rise ! But hence away ! yon rocky cave beware I A sullen cajttive broods in silence there. (11) There, though the dog-star tiame, condemned to In the dark centre of its inmost cell, [dwell, Wild winter ministers his dread control. To cool and chr3-stalliz,e the nectared bowl ! His faded form an awful giace retains ; Stern, though subdued, majestic thougii in chains! Far from the joyless glare, the maddening strife, And all 'the dull impertinence of life,' These eyelids open to the rising ray, (12) And close, when nature bids, at close of day. Heie, at the dawn, the kindling landscape glows ; There noon-day levees call from faint repose. Here the flushed wave flings back the parting light ; There glinjmering lamps anticipate the night. When from his classic dreams the student steals,* Amid the buzz of crowds, the whirl of wheels, To muse unnoticed, while around him press The meteor-forms of equipage and dress; * Ingenium, sibi quod vacuas desumsit Athenas, Et studiis annos septem dedit, insenuitque Libris ct curis, statua taciturnius exit Plwrumqne HoR. tQ AN EPISTLE TO A FRifiND. Alone, in wonder lost, he seems to stand A very stranger in his native land! Like those blest youths, forgive the fabling page, (IS) Whose blameless lives deceived a twilight age,* Spent in sweet slumbers ; till the miner's spade Unclosed the cavern, and the morning played. Ah, what their strange surprise, their wild delight! New arts of life, new manners meet their sight ! In a new world they wake, as from the dead; Yet doubt the trance dissolved, the vision fled ! O come, r»nd, rich in intellectual wealth, Blend thought with exercise, with knowledge health ', Long, in this shelteied scene of lettered talk, With sober step repeat the pensive walk ; Nor scorn, wlien graver triflings fail to please, The cheap amusements of a mind at ease ; Here every care in sweet oblivion cast. And many an idle hour not idly passed. No tuneful echoes, ambushed at my gate, (14) Catch the blest accents of the wise and gieat ; Vain of its various page, no Album breathes The sigh that friendship, or the muse bequeaths. Yet some good genii o'er my hearth preside, Oft the far friend, with secret spell, to guide; And there I trace, when the grey evening low'rs, A silent chronicle of happier hours ! When Christmas revels in a world of snow. And bids her berries blush, her carols flow; His spanghng shower, when frost the wizard flings; Or, borne in ether blue, on viewless wings, * fallentes semita vitse. H*K. AN EPISTLE TO A FRIEND. 91 O'er the white pane his silvery foliag-e weaves, And gems with icicles, the sheltering eaves ; — Thy muffled friend his nectarine-wall pursues^ What time the sun the yellow crocus woo's, Screened from the arrowy north ; and duly hies* To meet the morning-rumor as it flies; To range the murmuring market-place, and view The motley groups that faithful Teniers drew, [vale When spring bursts forth in blossoms through the And her wild music triumphs on the gale, Oft with my book I muse from stile to stile ;t Oft in my porch the listless noon beguile, Framing loose numbers, till declining day Through the green trellis shoots a crimson ray j Till the west-wind leads on the twilight hours, And shakes the fragrant bells of closing flowers. Nor boast, O Choisy ! seat of soft delight, (15) The secret charm of thy voluptuous night. Vain is the blaze of wealth, the pomp of power ! Lo, here, attendant on the shadowy hour, Thy closet's supper, served by hands unseen, Sheds, like an evening star, its ray serene, (16) To hail our coming. Not a step profane Dares, with rude sound, the cheerful rite restrain; And, while the frugal banquet glows revealed, Pure and unbought,t the natives of my field ; * Fallacem circum, vespertinumque perero Saepe forum. HoR. t Tantot, un livre en main, errant dans les preries — BOILEAU. ; dapes inemtas. Hok. K it AN EPISTLE TO A FRIEND. While blushing fruits through scattered leaves invite. Still clad in bloom, and veiled in azure light ; — "With wine as rich in years as Horace sings, With water, clear as his own fountain flings, The shitting side-board plays its humbler part, Beyond the triumphs of a Loriot's art. 1 Thus, in this calm recess, so richly fraught With mental light and luxury of thought, My life steals on ; O could it blend with thine; Careless my course, yet not without design. So through the vales of Loire the bee-hives glide, (17) The light raft dropping with the silent tide; So, till the laughing scenes are lost in night, The busy people wing their various flight. Culling unnumbered sweets from nameless flowers, That scent the vineyard in its purple hours. Rise, ere the watch relieving clarions play, Caught through Si. James's giores at blush of day; Ere its full voice the choral anthem flings Through tropliied tomhs of heroes and of kings. Haste, to the tranquil shade of learned ease,* Though skilled alike to dazzle and to please ; Though each gay scene be searched with anxious eye, Nor thy shut door be passed without a sigh. If, when this roof shall know thy friend no more. Some formed like thee, shouhl once, like thee, explore. Invoke the lares of his loved retreat, And his lone walks imprint with pilgrim feet ; Then be it said, as vain of better days, Some grey domestic prompts the partial praise ; * lanocuas amo dolicias do elamque quietem,. AN EPIBTLB TO A FRIEND. -^ 'Unknown he lived, unenvyed, not unhlest; Reason his ^uide', and happiness his guest. In the clear mirror of his moral page, We trace the mHiiners ot a purer age. His soul, with thirst of genuine glory fraught; Scorned the false lustre of licentious thought. One fair asylum from the world he knew, One chosen seat, that charms with various viewi Who boasts of more, belirve the serious strain, Sighs for a home, and sighs, alas ! in vain. Through each he roves, the tenant of a day, And with tjje swallow, wipgs the year away 1' (18) NOTES EPISTLE TO A FRIEND, NOTE 1. Page 72. Oft o'er the mead^ at pleasing diitance, pass — Cosmo of Medicis, preferred his Apennine villa, be- cause all that he commanded from his windows was ex- clusively his own. How unworthy of his character ; and how unlike the wise Athenian, who, when he had a farm to sell, directed the crier to proclaim, as its best recommendation, that it had a good neighbourhood! Plut. in Vit. Themist. NOTE 2. Page 72. And, through the various year, the various day — ' Horace commends the house, — longos quae prospicit agpos H 2 32 'KOTES ON THE EPISTLE TO A FRIEND. And I think he is right. Distant views, if there be a good foreground, are generally the most pleasing ; as they contain the greatest variety, both in themselves, and in their accidental variations. Mr. Gilpin on the Highlands of Scotland, i. 259. . NOTE 3. Page 73. Small change of scene, small space his home requires — Many a great man, in passing through the apartments of his palace, has made the uielancholy reflection of the venerable Cosmo : " Questa e troppo gran casa a »i poco famiglia." Mach. 1st. Fior. lib, vii. " 1 confess," says Cowlsy, " I love littleness almost in all things. A little convenient estate, a little cheerful house, a little company, and a very little feast." Essay vi. So also says the conqueror of Silesia ! Petit bien, qui, no doitrien, Petite maison, petite table, &c. When Socrates was asked why he had built for him- self so small a house, " small as it is," he replied, " I wisl> I could fill it with friends." Phakdrus, 1. iii. 9. These indeed are all that a wise man would desire to assemble ; " for a crowd is not company, and faces are but a gallery of pictures, and talk but a tinkling cymbal, where there is no love." Bacon's Essays, xxvii. NOTE 4. Page 73, From every point a rmj of genius flows ! By this means, when the heavens are filled tvith cltHids, when the earth swims in rain, and all nature NOTES ON THB EPISTLE TO A FRIBND. 53 wears a lowf^r'mg countenance, I wiihdravi myself from these uncomfortable scenes into the visionary worlds of art ; where I meet with shining landscapes, gilded tri- umphs, beautiful faces, and all those other objects that fill the mind with gay ideas, &c. Addison. It is reinarkable that Anthony, in his adversitj', pass- ed some time in a small but splendid retreat, which he called his Timonium, and from which probably originat- ed the idea of the Parisian Boudoir, that favourite apartment, ou Von se retire pour etre seul, mais cu Von ne boude point. Strabo, 1. xvii. Plut. In Vit. Anton. NOTE 5. Page 74. O mark ! again the coursers of the sun, At GuiDo's call, ^c. Alluding to his celebrated fresco in the RospigHosi pa- lace at Rome. It has been engraved by Jac Freiij and by Morghen. NOTE 6. Page 74. And still the few best loved and most revered — The dining-room is dedicated to conviviality ; or as Cicero somewhere expresses it, " Communitati vitae at- que victus." There we wish most for the society of our friends ; and, perhaps, in their absence, most require their portraits. The moral advantages of this furniture may be illus- trated by the pretty story of an Athenian courtezan, " who, in the midst of a riotous banquet with her lovers, accidentally cast her ej'c on a portrait of a philosophei- 84 NOTES ON THE EPISTLE TO A FRIEND. ' that hung- opposite to her seat, the happy character of temperance and virtue struck her with so lively an image of her own unworlhiness, that she instantly quitted the room ; and retiring home, became ever after an exam- ple of temperance, as she had been before of debauch- ery." Webb's Inquiry into the Beauties of Painting, p. 33. NOTE 7. Page 74. Rise round the board, ^c. '' A long table, and a square table," says Bacon, '• seem things of form, but are things of substance ; for at a long table a few at the upper end, in effect, sway all the business." Essay xx. Periiaps Arthur was right, when he instituted the or- der of the round table. In the town-house of Aix-la- Chapelle is still to be seen the round table, which may almost literally be said to have given peace to Europe in 1748. Nor is it only at a congress of plenipotentiaries that place gives preccilence. NOTES. Page 74, Read ancient books, or woo inspiring dreams. The reader will here remember that passage of Hor r^ce. Nunc veterum libris, nunc somao, &c. which was inscribed by Lord Chesterfield oo the friezp of his library. NOTES ON THE EPISTLE TO A FRIEND. 85 NOTE 9. Page 74. Audi when a sage's bust arrests thee there — Siquidem non solum ex auro argentove, aut certe ex acre in bibliothccis dicantur illi, quorum immortalesani- mse iniisdem locis ibi loquuntur : quinimo etiam queo non sunt, finguntur, pariuntque desideria non traditi vultus, sicut in Homero evenit. Quo majus, ut equidem arbiter, nullum est felicilatis specimen, quam semper omnes scire cupere, qualis fuerit aliquis. Plin. Nat. Hist. xxxv. 2. Cicero speaks with great affection of a little seat un- der Aristotle in the library of Atticus. " Literis susten- toret recreor ; maloque in ilia tua sedecula, quam habes sub imagine Aristotelis, sedere, quam in istorum sella curuli !" Ep. ad Au. iv. 10, Nor should we forget that Dryden used to draw inspi- ration from the " majpstic face" of Shakspeare ; and that a print of Newton was the only ornament of the closet of Buffon. Ep. to Kneller Voyage a Montbart par He» rftult de Sechelles. In the chamber of a man of genius we Write all dowm : Such and such pictures : — there the window ; the arras, figures. Why, such and such. Cymbeliue. NOTE 10. Page 74. Which gathers round the wise of every tongue. Quis tantis non gaudeat et glorietur hospitibus, ex- claims Petrarch — Spectar*; etsi nihil aliud, certe jurat SB NOTES ON THE EPISTLE TO A FRIENR — Homerus apud me mutus, immo vero ego apud ilium surius sum. Gaudeo tameii v^^l aspertu solo, et ssepe il- }um amplexus aceusyirans dico ; O magiio vi-, &c. , Epist. Var. Lib. NOTE 11. Page 75. A sullen captim broods in silence there. This thought is most beautifully dilated in an inscrip- tion for an ice-house, by a lady of great celebrity in the literary world. Nor has it escaped Waller, in his versQS on St. James's Park, v. 53. NOTE 12. Page 75. These eyelids open to the rising ray. Your bedchamber, and also your library, says VL- truvius, should have an eastern aspect ; usus enim ma- tutinura postulat lumen. Not so the picture gallerv, which requires a nortJb light uti colores, propter constautiam luminis immutata permaneant qualitate. L. vi. c. 6. NOTE 13. Page 76. Like those blest youths, forgive the fabling page. See the legend of the Seven Sleepers, as translated from the Syriac by tlie care of Gregory of Tours. Gibbon's Higt. e. 36. NOTES ON TIIE EPISTLE TO A FRIEND. 87 NOTE U. Page 16. , Catch the blest actions of the wise and great. Mr. Pope delights in enumerating his illustrious guests. Nor is th;s an exclusive pi ivilege of the poet. The Medici palace at Florence exhibits a long and im- posing catalogue. '' Semper hi parietes columnaeque eruditis vocibus rcsonuerunt." Another is also preserved at Chanteloup, the seat of the duke of Choiseul. NOTE 15. Page 77. JXor boast J O Ckoisy ! seat of soft delight — At the petits soupes of Choisy were first introduced those admirable pieces of mechanism, afterwards carried to perfection by Loriot, th^- confidcnte and the scrvanle ; a table and a side-board, which descended, and rose again covered with viands and wines. And thus the most luxurious court in urope, after all its boasted re- finements, was glad to return at last by this singular coa- trivance to the quiet and privacy of human life. Vie privee de Louis XV, torn. ii. p. 43. NOTE 16. Page 77. Sheds, like an evening-star., its rays serene. At a Roman supper, statues were sometimes employ- w- J to hold the lamps. — Aureasunt juvenum simulacra per oedeis, Lampadas igniferas manibus retinentia dextris. Luck. ii. 24. A fas hion as old as Homer ! Odyss. vii, 100. 18 NOTES ON THE EPISTLE TO A FRIEND. On the proper degree and distribution of light we may C( usult a great master of ettiect. II lume grande, ed alto, e non troppo potcnte, sara quejio, che rendi ra le parlicole de' corpi moltu grate. Tratt. della Pittura di Lionardoda Vinci, c. xli. Hence every artist requires a broad and high light. Hence also, in a banquet-scene, the most picturesque of all poets has thrown his light from the ceiling. .^neid i. 730. And hence the " starry lamps" of Milton, that . . . , from the arched roof, Pendent by subtle magic, .... yielded light As from a sky. Paradise Lost, i. 276, NOTE 17. Page 78. So through the vales of Loire the hce-hives glide. An allusion to the floating bee-house, or barge ladea with bee-hives, which Goldsmith says he saw in some parts of France and Piedmont. Hist, of the Earth, viii. 87. NOTE 18. Page 79. And, with the sivallow, wings the year away ! It was the boast of Lucullus that he changed his cli- mate with the birds of passage. Plut. in Vt. Lucull. How often must he have fo't the trutii here inculcatedj that the master of many houses has no home ! A SKETCH OF THE ALPS AT DAY-BREAK. ii'J TO THE GNAT. When by the green-wood side at summei' eve, Poetic visions charm ray closing eye ; And fairy scenes, that fancy loves to weave, Shift to wild notes of sweetest minstrelsy 3 'Tis thine to range in busy quest of prey, Thy feathery antlers quivering with delight, Brush from my lids the hues of heaven avfay, And all is solitude and all is night ! Ah now thy barbed shaft, relentless fly, Unsheaths its terrors in the sultry air ! ]\o guardian sylph, in golden panoply, Lifts the broad shield, and points the sparkling spear. IS'ow near and nearer roish thy whirring wings, Thy dragon-scales still wet with humane gore. Hark, thy shrill horn its fearful larum tiings ! — I wake in horor, and 'dare sleep no more !' SKETCH OF THE ALPS AT DAY-BREAK. The sun beams streak the azure skies, And line with light the mountains brow ; With hounds and horns the hunters rise, And chase the roebuck through the snow. 1 S6 IMITATED FROM A GREEK EPIGRAM. From rock to rock, with giant-bound, High on their iron poles they pass ; Mute, lest the air, convulsed by sound, Rend from above a frozen mass * The goats wind slow their wonted way Up craggy steeps and ridges rude ! Marked by the wild wolf for his prey, From desert cave or hanging wood. And while the torrent thunders loud And as the echoing cliffs reply, The huts peep o'er the morning-cloud, Perched like an eagles nest on high. * There are passes in the Alps, where the guides tell you to move on with speed, and say nothing, lest the agitation of the air sliould loosen the snow above. Gray, sect. v. let. 4. IMITATED GREEK EPIGRAM. VVniLfi on the cliff with calm delight she kneels And the blue vails a thousand joys recall, S^<*, to the last, last verge her infant steals ! O fly — yet stir not, speak not, lest it fall. Far bfitter tauglit, she lays her bosom bare, A«d the foad boy springs back to nestle there. THE SAILOR. »1 THE SAILOR. AN ELEGY. The sailor sighs as sinks his native shore, As all its lessening turrets bluely fade ; He climbs the mast to feast his eyes once more, Antl busy fancy fondly lends her aid. Ah ! now each dear, domestic scene he knew, Recalled and cherished in a foreign clime, Charms with the n)agic of a moonlight view, Its colors mellowed, not impaired, by time. T;ue as the needle, homeward points his heart, Through all the horrors of the stormy main ; This, the last wish with which its warmth could part; To meet the smile of her he loves again. When moon first faintly draws her silver line, Or eve's grey cloud descends to drink the wave ; When sea and sky in midnight darkness join, Still, still he views the parting look she gave. Her gentle spirit, lightly hovering o'er. Attends his little bark from pole to pole : And, when the beating billows round him roar, Whispers sweet hope to sooth his troubled soul. Carved is her name in many a spicy grove, In many a plantain forest, waving wide ; 92 CAPTIVITY. Where dusky youths in painted pkimage rove, And g-iant-palms o'er-arch the yellow tide. But, lo, at last he comes with crowded sail ! Lo, o'er the cHff what eager figures bend ! And, hark, what mingled murmurs swell the gale! In each he hears the welcome of a friend. — 'Tis she, 'tis herself 1 she waves her hand ! Soon is the anchor cast, the canvass furled ; Soon through the whitening surge he springs to land, And clasps the maid he singled from the world. CAPTIVITY. Caged in old woods, whose reverend echoes wake When the hern screams along the distant lake, Her little heart oft flutters to be free, Oft sighs to turn the unrelenting key. In vain ! the nurse that rustic relic wears, Nor moved by gold — nor to be moved by tears ; And terraced walls their black reflection throw On the green-mantled moat that sleeps below. ON A TEAR. ^3 ON A TEAR. Oh ! that the chymist's magic art, Could crystallize (his sacred treasure ! Long should it glitter near my heart, A secret source of pcnsiv e pleasure. The little brilliant, ere it fell, Its lustre caught from Chloe's eye; Then trembling, left its coral cell — The spring of sensibility ! Sweet drop of pure and pearly light ! In thee the rays of virtue shine ; More calmly clear, more mildly brigiit, Than any gem that gilds the mine. Benign restorer of the soul ! Who ever flyest to bring relief. When first she feels the rude control Of love or pity, joy or grief. The sages and the poets theme, In every clime, in every age ; Thou charmest in fancy's idle dreaii», In reasons philsophic page. That very law* which moulds a ic.it , And bids it trickle from its source. That law preserves the earth a sphere, And guides the planets in their course. " The law of gravitation. I 2 91 TO A FRIEND OX HIS MAFIRIAGE. AN ITALIAN SONG. Dear is my little native vale, The ring-dove builds and murmurs there, Close by my cot she tells her tale To every passing villager ; The squirrel leaps from tree to tree, And shells his nuts at liberty. In orange-groves and myrtle-bowers, That breathe a gale of fragrance round, I charm the fairy-footed hours With my loved lute's romantic sound ; Or crowns of living laurel weave, For those that win the race at eve. The shepherd's horn at break of day The ballet danced in twilight glade, The canzonet and roundelay Sung in the silent greea-wood shade : These simple joys, that never fail, Shall bind me to my native vale. TO A FRIEND ON HIS MARRIAGE. On thee, blest youth, a father's hand confers The maid thy earliest fondest wishes knew. Each soft enchantment of the soul is hers ; Tbitte be the joys to fum attachment due? TO A FRIEND ON HIS MARRIAGE. 9£ A^ on she moves with hesitating jrrace, She wins assurance from his soothing voice ; And, with a look the pencil could not trace, Smiles through her blushes, and confirms the choice. Spare the fine tremors of her feeling frame ! To thee slie tnrn^ — forgive a virgin's fears ! To thee she turns w ith surest, tcnderest claim ; Weakness that charms, reluctance that endears ! At each response the sacred rite requires, From her full bosom bursts the unbidden sigh. A strange mysterious awe the scene inspires 3 And on her lips the trembling accents die. O'er her fair face what wild emotions play ! What lights and shades in sweet confusion blend ! Soon shall they fly, glad harbingers of day. And settled sunshine on her soul descend ! Ah, soon, thine own confest, ecstatic thought ! [ers ; That hand shall strew thy summer-path with flow- And those blue eyes, witin mildest lustre fraught, 6ild the calm current of domestic hours ! 66 A WISH. TO THE YOUNGEST DAUGHTER OP LADY **^ Ah ! why with tell-tale toiigue reveal* Wiiat most her blushes would conceal ? Why lift that modest veil to trace The seraph sweetness of her face ? Some fairer, better sport prefer ; And feel for us, if not for her. For this presumption, soon or rate, Know, thine shall be a kindred fate. Another shall in vengeance rise — Sing Harriet's cheeks, and Harriet's cy^^ , And, echoing back her wood-notes wild — Trace all the mother in the child ! * Alluding to some verses which she had written on aji elder sister. A WISH. Mine be a cot beside the hill ; A bee-hive's hum shall sooth my ear j A willowy brook, that turns a mill, With many a fall, shall linger near. FAUKWELL, The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch, Shall twitter from her clay built nest; Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch, And share my meal a welcome guest. Around ray ivyed porch shall spring" Each fragrant Uower that drinks the dew; And twcT, at her wheel, shall smg, In russet gown and apron blue. The village church, among the trees, Where first our marriage vovvs were given; Wiih merry peals shall swell the breeze, And point with taper spire to heaven. A CHARACTER. As through the hedgerow shade the violet steals, And the sweet air its modest leaf reveals ; Her softer charms, but by their influence known, Surprise all hearts, and mould them to her own. FAREWELL. Once more, enchanting girl, adieu ! I must begone, while y; t I may. Oft shall 1 weep to think of you ; But here I will not, cannot stay G8 TO AN OLD OAK. The sweet expression of that face, For ever changing', yet the same ; Ah, 11), I clare not turn to trace ; It melts my soul, it fires my frame 5 Yet give me, give me, ere I go, O.ie little lock of those so blest Til at lend your cheek a warmer glow, And on your white neck love to rest. — Sayvvhen to kindle soft delight, That hand has chanced with mine to meet, How could its thrdling touch excite A sigh so short, and yet so sweet ? say — but no, it must not be. Adieu, enchanting girl, adieu ! — Yet still, methinks, you frown on mc Or never could 1 fly from you. TO AN OLD OAK. Immota manet ; multosque nepotes, Multa virum volvens durando saecula, vincit. Round thee, alas, no shadows move ! From thee no sacred murmurs breathe I Yet within thee, thyself a grove. Once did thp pagle scream above, And the wolf howl beneath. TO AN OLD OAK. There once the steel cUd knight reclined His sable plumage tempebt tossed, And, as the death-bell smote the wind, From towers long fled by human kind, His brow the hero crossed ! Then culture came, and days serene. And village-sports, and garlands gay. Full many a pathway crossed the green, And maids and shepherd-youths were seen To celebrate the May. Father of many a forest deep, Whence many a navy thunder fraught, Erst in their acorn cells asleep. Soon destined o'er the world to sweep, Opening new spheres of thought ! Wont in the night of woods to dwell, The holy druid saw thee rise ; And planting there the guardian spell, Sung forth, the dreadful pomp to swell Of human sacrifice 1 Thy singed top and branches bare Now straggle in the evening sky, And the wan moon wheels round to glare On the long corse that shivers there Of him who came to die ! IJO TO A VOICE THAT HAD BEEN LOST. TO A VOICE THAT HAD BEEN LOST. Vane, quid affectas faciem mihi poncre, pictor ? Aeris et ling'uae sum filla ; Et, si vis siiiiilem pingere, pinge sonum. AUSONICS. Once more, enchantress of the soul, Once more we hail thy soft control. — Yet whither, whither didst thou fly ! To what bright region of the sky ? Say, in what distant star to dwell ? Of other worlds thou seemest to tell, Or, trembling, iluttering here below, Resolved and unresolved to go, In secrets didst thou still impart Thy rapture to the pure in heart ? Perhaps to many a desert shore. Thee, in his rage, the tempest bore ; Thy broken murmurs swept along. Mid echoes yd untuned by song ; Arrested in the realms of frost, Or in the wilds of ether lost. — Far happier thou ! twas thine to soar. Careering on the winged wind. Thy triumphs who shall dare explore ? Suns and their systems left behind. No tract of space, no distant star. No shock of elements at war, Did thee detain. Thy wing of fire Bore thee amidst the cherub choir ; FRAGMENTS FROM EURIPIDES. m And there awhile to thee was given Once more that voice* beloved to join, Which taught thee first a tlight divine, And nursed thy infant years with many a strain from heaven ! * The late Mrs. Sheridan's. FRAGMENTS FROM EURIPIDES. Dear is that valley to the murmuring bees, The small birds build there ; and at summer-noon, Oft have I hearil a child among the flowers, As iu the shining grass she sat concealed, Sing to herself. There is a streamlet issuing from a rock. The village girls, singing wild madrigals, Dip their white vestments in its waters clear, And hang them to the sun. There first I saw her. Her dark and eloquent eyes, mild, full of fire, 'Twas heaven to look upon ; and her sweet voice, As tuneable as harp of many strings, At once spoke joy and sadness to my soul ! 102 VERSES WRITTEN TO BE SPOKEN WRITTEN AT MIDNIGHT. 1786. While through the broken pane the tempest sighs And my step fahers on the faithless floor, Shades of departed joys around nie rise, With many a face that smiles on me no more ; With many a voice that tlirills of transport gave, ?fow silent as the grass that tufts their grave ! VERSES ■WRITTEN TO BE SPOKEN BY MRS. SIDDONS* Yes, 'tis the pulse of life ! my fears were vaini I wake, I breathe, and am myself again. Still in this nether world ; no seraph yet ! JVor walks my spirit, when the sun is set, With troubled step to hount the fatal board, Where 1 died last, by poison or the sword ; Blanching each honest cheek with deeds of night, Done here so oft by dim and doubtful light. — To drop all metaphor, that little bell Called back reality and broke the spell. * After a tragedy, performed for her benefit, at the The- atre Royal in Drury-Lane, April 27, 1795. BY MRS. SIDDONS. 1( jVo heroine claims your tears with tragic tone ; A very woiuaii — scarce restrains her own ! Can she, with fiction, charm the cheated mind, When to be grateful is the part assigned ? Ah, no, she scorns the trappings of her art ; No theme but truth, no prompter but the heart 1 But, ladies, say, must I alone unmask ? Is here no other actress ? let me ask. Believe me, those, who best the heart dissect, Know every woman studies stage effect. She moulds her manners to the part she fills, As instinct teaches, or as humor wills ; And, as the grave or gay talent calls. Acts in the drama, till the curtain falls. First how her little breast with triumph swells, When the red coral rings its golden bells ! To play in pantomime is then the rage. Along the carpet's many-coloured stage ; Or liip V^r merry thoughts with loud endeavor, Now htre, now there, in noise and mischief ever I A school girl next, she curls her hair in papers, And mimics father's gout and mother's vapoi's ; Discards her doll, bribes Betty for romances j Playful at church, and serious when she dances ; Tramples alike on customs and ou toes, And whispers all she hears to all she knows ; Terror, of caps and wigs, and sober notions ! A romp ! that longest of perpetual motions ! —Till tamed and tortured into foreign graces, She sports her lovely face at public places ; And with bhie, laughing eyes, behind her fan, First acts her part with that great actor, man. Itl VERSES, &c. I'oo soon a flirt, approach her and she flies ! Frowns when pursued, an«!, when entreated, sighs; Plays with unhappy men as cats wiih mice j Till fadint;;^ beauty hints the latf advice. Her prudence dictates what her pri.le disdained, And now she sues to slaves herself i»ad chained. Then coines that good old character, a wife, With all the dear, distracting cares of life j A thousand cards a ilay at doors to leave, And in return, a thousand cards receive ; Rotig-e high, play deep, to lead the ton aspire, With niguly blaw ser PonTLA.vo-PLACK on fire; Snatch half a glimpse at concert, opera, ball, A meteor, traced by none, thougn seen by all, Anhattered nerves forbid to roam. In very s]>ieen — rehearse the girls at home. Last the grev dowager, in ancient flounces, With snufiTand spertacies the age denounces } Bojst how the sires of this degenerate isle Knelt (or a look, and duelled for a smile. The scourge and ridic(de of Goth and Vandal, Her tea she sweetens, as she sips, with scandal ; With mode.n belles eternal warfare wages, Like her own birds that clamor from their cages; And shutlHes round to bear her tale to all, Like some old ruin, ' nodding to its fall !' Thus \voM4N jnakes her entrance and her exit; Not least an actress, when she least suspects it, Yet nature oft peeps out and mars the plot, Each lesson lost, each poor pretence forgot ; Full oft, with energy scorns coinrol. At once lights up the features of the soul ; TO TWO SISTERS. 105 Unlocks each thought chained down by coward ai't, And to full day the latent passions start ! — And she, whose first, best wish is your applause, Herself exemplifies the truth she draws. Born on the stage — through every shifting scenci Obscure or bright, tempestuous or serene, Still has your smile her trembling spirit fired ! And can she act with thoughts like these inspired f Thus from her mind all artifice she flings, All skill, all practice, now unmeaning things ! To you unchecked, each genuine feeling flows ; For all that life endears — to yoii she owes. TO TWO SISTERS.* Well may you sit within, and, fond of grief, Look in each other's face and melt in tears. Well may you shun all counsel, all relief, Oh, she was great in mind, though young in years. Changed is that lovely countenance, which shed Light when she spoke ; and kindled sweet surprise. As o'er her frame each warm emotion spread. Flayed round her lips, and sparkled in her eyes. Those lips so pure, that moved but to persuade, Still to the last enlivened and endeared. Those eyes at once her secret soul conveyed, And ever beamed delight when you appeared, •■ On the death of a younger sister, ' K 2 lOG WRITTEX IN A SICK CHAMBER. Yet has she fled the life of bliss below, That vouthful hope in bright perspective drew ? False were the tints ! false as the feverish j^Iow That o'er her burning cheek distemper threw ! And now in joy she dwells, in glory moves ! Glory and joy reserved for you to share ; Far, far more blest in blessing those she loves, Than they, alas ! unconscious of her care. WRITTEN IN A SICK CHAMBER. There, in that bed so closely curtained round, "Worn to a shade, and wan with slow decay, A father sleeps ! oh hushed be every sound ! Soft may we breathe the midnight hours away ! He stirs — yet still he sleeps. May heavenly dreams Long o'er his smooth and settled pillow rise ; Till through the shattered pane the morning stream?, And on the hearth the glimmering rush light dies. THE TORSO. 107 TO THE FRAGMENT OF A STATUE OF HERCULES, COMMONLY CALLED THE TORSO. And dost thou still, thou mass of breathing stone^ Thy giant limbs to ni^ht anEC. 13, 1796. S PAINS OF MEMORY. When mournful evening's gradual vnpours spread O'er the dim plain, and veil the river's bed ; While her own star with dull and wal'ry eye Peeps through the severing darkness of the sky ; While the mute birds to lonely coverts haste, And silence listens on the slumb'rous waste ; When tyrant frost his strong dominion holds; And not a blade expands, a bud unfolds, But nature dead, divested of her green, Clothed in a solemn pallid shroud is seen : When gathered thunders burst, abrupt, and loud, And midnight lightning leaps from cloud to cloud. Or rends, with forceful, momentary stroke, J he ivyed turret, and the giant oak; 126 PAINS OF MEMORY. Can mere remembrance wake meridian mirth. Bedeck with visionary charms the earth ; Renew the season when each wakening' dower Lifted its leaves to drink the morning shower ; Dispel the gloom, the fiery storm remove, Gem the wide vault and animate the grove ? The fond illusions could but feebly show, The colour's scarce appear, or faintly glow, Fixed would the sad realities remain, And memory waste her vaunted stores in vain. Alas I all inefficient is her power, To cheer, by what is past the present hour, For every good gone by, each transport o'er, She may regret, but never can restore. Yet shall her festering touch corrode the heart, Compel the subjugated tear to start. She calls grim phantoms from the shadowy deep, And sends her fui ies forth to torture sleep : The lapse of time, the strength of reason dares, And with fresh rage her straining rack prepares. Say, can tiie man, oppressed by grief, i-eview With tranquil eye the pleasures tliat he knew. When in content, with love and friendship blest, Their soft emotions charmed his youthful breast ; And as he gave each wild idea scope, Looked to new joy, with renovated hope.'* Ah, no ! his thought with melancholy range ! Traces the progress of the afflictive change, Adds to the immediate evil he endures, By strong control each siruggliog pang secures ; Till tired, and shocked, he tu^'ns him in despair, From things tiiat have been, to the thjujjs that are. PAINS OF MEMORY. 127 For what avails it now that once his mind -Washght as air, and frolic as the wind, Alike to sorrow or to vice unknown, That every moral solace was his own. Since, at an altered season, misery gave Sighs for the past, and wishes for the grave ? How swiftly fly the raptures of our prime, Swept by the tempest of destroying time, Whose whirlwind lays the pride of empire low, And ming-les nature in a wild of wo ! Shall we then, pondering on its varied rage, By recollected bliss our carrs assuage. Expatiate freely on the ravaged plain, \Yhere flowed the stream, and waved the golden graio^ Where fountains cool refreshed the summer shade, And hamlets gay diversified the glade, Where showed the sculptured fane its splendid site, And groves, the grandeur of diurnal night ? Shall we not view the altered prospect rude, With deep dismay, or chill solicitude ; And can the mind the sad reverse efface, By fondly musing on each former grace ? Where'er we cast our retrospective eyes, A waste of rocks, a dreary desert lies, Here desolation's grasp has rent the flowers That scattered fragrance round our infant bowers. Thrre the wide ruin of our hopes extends, Marked with memorials of departed friends. So the poor traveller from some Alpine height, Looks backward on his j juriiey with affright, For still the dangers past his thoughts confound, And other dansrers threaten still around ; 12S PAINS OF MEMORY. The headlong^ precipice, the ley pass, The whelming *Avalanche's monstrous mass, The tumbling cliff, the torrent's sudden rise, The tanjjied forest reaching' to the skies ; The clustering clouds thai wrap the mountains side, The frozen mists that o'er the valley glide, These all in dread confusion strike his heart, He fears to stay, nor veatureoi to depart Down in yon «:lade, beside that glassy pool, There st'uids, and long has stood, the village school ; Hark ! the gay murmu rings of the sportive train, Freed from restraint, that gambol o'er the plam^ List their shrill voices, and their bursts of glee. Will future years recall their ecstacy ? Perchance some one, hereafter of the band, From the brown summit of that jutting land, Shall eye the w«ll-known spot, ihe self same scene. And the thin spire that peeps those groves between j Shall mark tlie peasant plodding as before, And the trim house-wife at the cottage door ; Shall hear the pausing bell's pathetic toll. Borne on the gale, announce the parting soul Of some old friend, who to his childhood kind. Prepared the kite and streamed it to the wind ; Some busy dame for cakes and custards known. Who gave him credit when his pence we'-e gone ; Some truant ploughboy, who, neglecting toil, Joined him to seize the tempting orchard's spoil, Or in despite of peril spread the snare. As through the thicket passed the nightly hare : * An immense body of snow that in the spring falls from the Alps. PAINS OF MEMORY. 129 Then shall he think on all the woes of life, His thankless children, or his faithless wife, His fortune wasted, or his wishes crossed, His tender brother, sister, parents lost, 'Till every object sinking into shade. He sigh, and call oblivion to his aid. The buxom lass, who late, secure from harno, V/ith gay importance bustled through the farm ; Tended her dairy at the break of dawn. Or fed her circling poultry on the lawn ; O'er the washed floor, the cleanlj^ sand let fall. And brushed the unseemly cobweb from the wall : Who in tlie hay time met the lusty throng. And with her share of labour joined her song, To the faint reapers bore the humming ale. Or joked the thrasher leaning on )iis flail : "By vain ambition led at length to town. In quest of fortune, and supposed renown. If there, the victim of some worthless rake, She chance its sickly pleasures to partake, [claim Mixed with the pampered crowds, whose looks dis- The smile of virtue and the blush of shame ; Will she not oft regret the cheerful day, Vv'hen sport and freedom hailed the approach of May. Ami many a rural pair beguiled the hour. With evening dance beneath the moonlight bower; Or left to her sad fate, condemned to rove The lawless paths of desultory love ; W ill not her tortured bosom throb the more, "Whene'er she thinks on what she was before, And finds, recoiling from tlie insidious joy, A secret canker every rose destroy : M 2 JS0 PAINS OF MEMORY. While all that memory's sorcery can dispense, Shall add new pangs to loss of innocence. From the dark east the yelling blasts arise, And clouds on clouds roll dreadful through the skies. With sweeping fury the impetuous rain, Bursts on the hills and murmurs o'er the main; Then to some promontory, bleak and bare, Fierce as distraction, reckless as despair, At night's cold moon, a tortured wretch retires, Consumed by memory's unrelenting fires ; With smiling horror meets the piercing gale, Waits the barbed flash, and breasts the driving hail ; While in his bosom with resistless force, Rages the direr tempest of remorse. And didst thou, barbarous monster ! didst thou dare Consign to shame the violated fair : To loathsome penury and death consign. Her, whom thy flattering tongue had called divine ? Didst thou no skill and artifice employ, To lure the hapless maid and then destroy ? What kind persuasion vvoo'd her softened sense, What cunning falsehood, and what fair pretence, What fond endearments, mingled with the kisS; That promised constancy and nuptial bliss ! And she did perish — ^yes, in yonder grove, ' Seduced to vice, the sacrifice of love. There on the chilly grass the babe was born, Beneath that bending solitary thorn : And there the infant's transient spirit fled, And there tb.e mother mingled with the dead — Then howl thy sorrows forth, unpitied rave, Groan on the beach; or headlong seek the wave ; PAINS OF MEMOhV. U Pdr never shall her wrongs from thee depart, But thought revenge thy cruelty of heart. The slave of guilt no cordial ever found To %;'; " ,.., <^"' :.^- j^'- ' ^ ",..,'• ^A^- V- '^e^o^ ^-^^ '^ ,'^^X:^ ^^ Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide '%^^^ ' ^ % Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. Neutralizing agent: Magnesi Treatment Date: April 2009 PreservationTechnologies A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 111 Thomson Par1< Drive Cranberry Township, PA 16066 (724)779-2111 ^^di «-> -^ CK -v.^^.".^^' LIBRARY OF CONGRESS