mm ^AW/vfifc mfc ^tbvary of $mMM it*&m ^^AAfe.^K »as*&a&aaft: :«A"">\0 MODERN ANTIQUITY, &c. MODERN ANTIQUITY AND OTHER POEMS. THE LATE REV. C. C. COLTON, AUTHOR OF " LACON," &c. FROM THE ORIGINAL MANUSCRIPT; IN THE POSSESSION OF MARKHAM SHERWILL. LONDON: B B. K I N G, M O N U M E N T YARD: A. H. BAILY & CO., CORNHILL. PREFACE. I most willingly admit that no poetry, having the slightest taint of mediocrity, would meet with readers in the present day; but, when we consider the following Poem, either as to its extent or its variety, or the masterly manner in which that diversity is handled, we feel assured that none who are in possession of " Lacon," or "Hypocrisy," will deem their libraries complete without the assistance-of this their sister Muse. The dying request of my much-esteemed friend, the author of "Modern Antiquity," that it should be printed after his death, involved me in a task of great difficulty. I say, it was a difficult a 3 task imposed upon me, because he desired I would write explanatory Notes to such parts of it as I should find necessary to be relieved from an almost unavoidable obscurity. He conceived the idea that I was fully acquainted with all the matter which his master-mind has endeavoured to express on the subject now before us. But Mr. Colton, however he might feel convinced, after an acquaintance of twenty years, of my readiness to serve him to the extent of my power, deceived himself much as to my capability for such a task, and had formed too high an opinion of that which appears but too insignificant in the execution. A few hours previous to his death, Mr. Colton dictated the last four stanzas of " Modern Antiquity," and at the same time expressed a wish that they had been more creditable to him and to the subject: how far his apprehension was well founded is for those to decide who are fit judges and liberal critics. That the poem would have been retouched by his powerful pen, there can be little doubt; and that he would have added to it a long train of deep thought, fitting the subject he had in view, 1 know to have been his intention, if pain and disease had not wholly deprived him of that " Hope and Patience" which he felt had quitted him for ever! It may be said by some, that the object of this poem is of little worth, or that it possesses no moral : the fact of there being no moral attached to it, is certainly less reprehensible than if it in- culcated a bad one. The subject had been treated on before the late Mr. Colton gave it its present splendid form, as Bacon was the first writer to dispute the validity of the claims of our forefathers to true antiquity; claims that have produced much that is deplorable, if not more that is absurd. " True talent is the ray that flings A novel light o'er common things." In the following pages we find many of those thoughts that would have been beautiful even in their simplicity and nakedness of nature, and are certainly not less so now that they are pre- sented in the best drapery and ornaments of art: we should be equally capable of detecting de- formity, w r ere she arrayed in costly trinkets. In this poem we observe that the rhyme is almost invariably thrown upon the strongest word; which, however difficult to accomplish, is a rule that our poet strictly attended to. Antithesis became a powerful engine in such skilful hands as those of our author; and in most cases we may acknowledge that it had Truth for its root, and Wit for its fairest blossom. For his images and illustrations, he had recourse to the whole material and intellectual world; his researches were deep, and he frequently chose the most obvious as the most expressive, not- withstanding the chance that they had been an- ticipated ; while at other moments he selected PREFACE. some less clear and less evident, because they were novel, although they might possess the dis- advantage of being somewhat obscure. Metaphors have been described as the algebra of language, and their use or abuse is an almost unerring test of talent: we may venture to assert that the abuse of this elegant figure is scarcely to be found in this poem; for our author was not of that class of bad poets, who, when mounted on a metaphor, generally break down or bolt. I have heard Mr. Colton say, that, when he was writing his poem " Hypocrisy," (now out of print,) he had no books in the room in which he wrote; and it was only when he had finished that work that he examined with the originals the quotations he applied, in order to ascertain if his memory had been correct. . That he wrote " Modern Antiquity" under the same circum- stances, would not be difficult for me to aver. During the progress of his writing, he did not appear at a loss for those close and remote re- semblances on which all wit and illustration de- pend. His memory was certainly very extraor- dinary and extensive: she is generally the friend of wit, though but too often the treacherous ally of invention; sometimes assuming her shape, sometimes counterfeiting her signature, and this so clumsily, that it deceives none but him alone who suspects the fraud the least, and whose cre- dit suffers the most. He observed to me one day, when I was speaking to him on his apparent want of books, that, if the mind be well stored, the less we have to do with books during the period of composi- tion the better. The truth of this remark was certainly exemplified in our immortal bard, Milton, whose works lost nothing by his blind- ness. Although "Modern Antiquity" was written in the winter of his life, which was somewhat rough and boisterous, Mr. Colton has shown sufficient proof that his mind retained to the last all the freshness of spring, and all the fecundity of autumn. Mr. Colton (as I have already stated in a former page,) was labouring under great pain, from an old and inveterate complaint, at the time he finished the present poem. During the last four-and-twenty hours of his chequered life, he expressed to me more than once great doubt as to the probability of his recovery. I may say that he entertained a fear of death, and, while apprehending that awful moment, a sudden aberration of mind called it to his relief! How strange, — that which he dreaded most, he courted as his only cure. We have witnessed moments when the best and the most learned men resigned their powers of reflection into the hands of de- spair, and abandoned the idea that good even may be inculcated by an example of courage and resignation. The insufferable agony with which Mr, Colton was afflicted, seemed at once to de- throne his reason, and render him the victim of derangement.* Let us hope, in consideration of his respectable and extensive connexions, that a pall will be drawn over those deviations which humanity is subject to. That the good which he may have done should not be evil spoken of, it is but just that we should here state how invariably cautious he was of respect towards every hallowed subject; frequent in alleviating the miseries of others, even when in affliction himself; and last- * It may be presumed that suicide will unhappily be- come more frequent as civilization and its improvements advance, as it proceeds from causes that such a state con- tributes very much to create and multiply. There are eloquent though silent actors, that but too often succeed in tempting us from our right path : they are to be found in this our age, which has been termed an age of refine- ment; and, if they do exist elsewhere, they have not attained a sufficient influence to produce any fatal results ; for we hear of few instances of suicide among rude and barbarous tribes : ready to destroy one another, they rarely lift the murderous hand against themselves. PREFACE. Xlli. ing will be the benefits of his aphorisms to the studious and contemplative, and which, if care- fully gleaned, must still the voice of the enemy and avenger, forcing even such to tread lightly over the ashes of his untimely grave. It was erroneously stated, at the moment of Mr. Colton's death, that he was in a state bor- dering on poverty: such was not the truth. He had been for a long time substantially assisted by his family, which is confirmed by a letter he wrote to his aged mother only a few days before the awful moment of his decease, in which he thanked her for her ample remittances. We have spoken of Mr. Colton's high respect towards every hallowed subject. In his frequent and unrestrained conversations with me on the possibility of a future state of immortality, his opinions and conclusions always tended to this one great truth, that " this world cannot explain its difficulties without the assistance of another." He would strongly urge the necessity of a ge- neral acceptation of the Christian doctrines, as the safe side : " they are," said he, " the only thing that can give permanent consistency to virtue, or appal vice with apprehension and alarm ; they give solidity to our happiness, and are a solace to our minds. A belief in a future state," continued he, " is necessary to the well- being of society : without that belief, an oath, in many instances our sole guide to truth, becomes an empty sound." I asked him, one day, what he considered the strongest proof in favour of Revelation : he re- plied, " The History of the Life of Christ, par- ticularly as exhibited in the Gospels, and the morality adducible from it: they are so pure and perfect, so salutary to our nature, so suitable to our condition, that they are in every respect worthy of that high source from whence they are supposed to emanate." "The Life of Christ," he continued, " was so perfect, that, without an original, the copy could not have been drawn : the corruption introduced by men into the prac- tice of Christianity is no argument against the purity of Christianity itself." Such were the general opinions and convic- tions of the Author of "Lacon," expressed in unreserved conversations with me on these highly interesting and most important subjects. By the sudden death of Mr. Colton we shall be deprived of a great literary feast, inasmuch as the Memoirs of his own Life, extraordinary and singular as it was, remain unfinished. The out- line of this work promised much: it was richly adorned with the characters of the most leading men of his time and of the age; the Notes indi- cate a great variety of matter and anecdote, which it was his intention to throw into them, in the shape of opinion of men, with a review of their public conduct and literary productions, finely worked up with that acute language and satire which marked his writings and conversa- tion. Writing was to Mr. Colton an intellectual pleasure of such a magnitude, that latterly he sought no other; and his nights were dedicated to this recreation rather than to sleep. The ma- terials with which his mind was so well stored, could never cloy or remain idle : far from deterio- rating his mental powers, the constant exercise of those materials seemed only to invigorate. In one of the Notes connected with his own Memoirs, he says, "I for one would rejoice to live my life over again to please myself, but cer- tainly should think it hard to be obliged to do so to please others." But, alas ! we have seen by this short sketch, that there exists a paradox but too common to humanity ; which is, that those live who wish to die, and those die that have the greatest desire to live. Mr. Colton complained to me lately of the failure of his eyesight : even from this circum- stance he would draw a conclusion that would not occur to every one: " It is a warning," said he, " to shut up all books, to study our own character, that we may amend, and benefit by those former readings that were, or ought to have been, the occupation of our youth and manhood. I have already said that, in the sketches among Mr. Col ton's papers intended for his memoirs, the career of many worldly men is finely traced ; but it must not be understood that they are written with disgusted misanthropic disappoint- ment, or with the querulous debility of old age : he considered the arrangement of these memoirs as a recreation, a reaction to be attempted at less cost; and not more a matter of amusement to himself, than they certainly would have been, like many of his former works, of great profit and advantage to the reader. The best recompense that .a man can offer to posterity, who has passed through a long and an eccentric life, certainly would be to offer a life well written. Examples, otherwise pernicious, may thus be converted into warnings, and our b defects may teach others to conquer. What little skill or prudence we may have evinced may be rendered more beneficial to others, by candidly examining the how, the when, and the where; and, should our wisdom or our sagacity not have accomplished all that might have been done, what they have accomplished may have been for a moment tarnished by an intoxication of success. Markham Sherwill. CONTENTS. PREFACE V. MODERN ANTIQUITY . . , . 1 to 38 NOTES TO DITTO ....... 39 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. SOCIETY 59 ON BEING ASKED, BY A LADY, WHAT IS WIT? . . 63 OLD AGE .... . ... 65 ON THE CIRCUMSTANCE OF OLMEDO, THE POET LAU- REATE OF PERU, HAVING BEEN SELECTED BY THAT REPUBLIC TO NEGOTIATE ANOTHER LOAN IN LONDON. 66 AMBITION 67 CONTENTS. ON SEEING THE BUST OF SOCRATES IN A DEBATING SOCIETY ib. REDDES DULCE LOQUI , . . . .68 HOPE 69 HUMAN HAPPINESS 70 A TRUISM .71 DESPAIR . 72 ON THE STATUE OF THE VENUS DE MED1CIS . • 73 ODE ON THE DEATH OF LORD BYRON . . . ib. FRIENDSHIP ....... 79 NEQUE SEMPER ARCUM ...... 80 NAPOLEON . . 81 FAME 82 EXAMPLE lb. JEU DE MOT, ON MR. HUNT'S ADDRESS TO THE RADI- CALS, AT THE CROWN AND ANCHOR TAVERN. . . 83 THE FATES 84 FAITH AND HOPE ib. HUMILITY 85 CONFESSION 86 PRETEXTS AND MOTIVES 87 AURUM POTENTIUS ICTU FULMINEO . . . .88 TO THE TRUE POET 89 CONTENTS. XXl. PAIN. WRITTEN DURING A PERIOD OF SEVERE AGONY. 90 TO DR. PARR'S BIOGRAPHERS . . ... 91 JULIUS AND JULIA ..*.... 93 ALARMISTS . . . . . . • . . lb. JUDGMENTS ........ 94 "OREMUS UT SIT MENS SANA IN CORPORE SANO" . 95 WISDOM AND FOLLY 96 WRITTEN AT MIDNIGHT 97 BLESSINGS IN DISGUISE 98 TIME 99 PERSECUTION ib. ADVERSITY 100 PRAYER 101 PROLIXITY 103 CONCORDIA DISCORS ...... 104 " LUMENQUE JUVENT^ PURPUREUM" . . . 105 IMPROMPTU ON THE BISHOP OF ATX, WHO LATELY BEQUEATHED HIS HEART TO THE JESUITS. . . 106 UNDE ET QUO 107 A MISTAKE ........ 108 BIOGRAPHERS. LINES J — BEING AN ANSWER TO A LET- TER FROM AN OCTOGENARIAN, INFORMING ME THAT HE HAD GIVEN UP AUTHORSHIP, AND THAT A FRIEND OF HIS WAS ABOUT TO WRITE HIS LIFE. . . 109 XX11. CONTENTS. INSTINCT . .Ill BAYLE . . . .* . . . 113 A CHARACTER 114 AN IMPROMPTU ON FFRST HEARING THE NEWS OF LORD BYRON'S DEATH 115 "QUISQUE SU^E FORTUNE FABER EST" . . . 116 VOLTAIRE . 118 THE BARD . 122 SOCRATES . . . . . . . . 124 JEALOUSY 125 LINES ADDRESSED TO LANE FOX, ESQ., WHOSE HOUSE WAS DESTROYED BY FIRE, IMMEDIATELY AFTER THE CONFLAGRATION OF YORK MINSTER J TOWARDS THE RESTORATION OF WHICH HE MUNIFICENTLY GAVE A THOUSAND POUNDS. ..... 126 COURAGE 127 COMPENSATION 128 DEATH 129 AVARICE 131 HOPE . 132 FORTITUDE ib. VICE AND VIRTUE 134 WIT AND TRUTH 135 CONTENTS. XX1I1. QUANDOQUE BONUS DORMITAT HOMERUS . . .lb, BURNS 136 A NAME. VIDET RIDET. . . . . . 137 THE VILLAGE HERO 138 CEREUS IN VIT1UM FLECTI. A PARALLEL CASE. . 140 ENERGY ........ 141 LIFE 143 GRJECI/E MALEDICTIO 144 POLEMICS ........ 147 LORD BACON 148 " AN TIBI VIRTUS VENTOSA IN LINGUA ?" . . 152 FRIENDSHIP AND INGRATITUDE. AN ALLEGORY. . 153 TINNIT — INANE EST! 154 REVENGE . . . . . . . . 155 "DUM TENER IN CUNIS JAM JOVE DIGNUS erat" . 156 A WORD TO THE WISE lb. NOTES TO THE MISCELLANEOUS POEMS . . .157 MODERN ANTIQUITY, "Ea enim pro vera antiquitate habenda est, quae temporibus nostris tribui debet, non juniori astati mundi qualis apud anti- quos fuit." Lord Bacon. The sun is old, as may be known From spots around his brightness thrown; The sea is old, as still appears, "Whene'er his hoary head he rears ; And earth, that hath for ages spun Her giddy circle round the sun, Must burn, or beg the Polar Bear To cool her axle, scorched with wear : 'I MODERN ANTIQUITY. The stars, to music of the spheres Their twinkling feet and listening ears Have lent so long, that some the dance Have quitted, 1 for a welcome trance. So old and ancient are the hills, Their date a musty proverb fills ; And all the fire that warmed their breast, By frost of ages is suppressed; 2 The rivers are so far from youth, They Ve worn both rock and pebble smooth ; And some, with pioneering wave, Have dug their own gigantic grave. But Thou 3 that o'er th' Egyptian hurled Thy crystal wall, and didst a world Both made and marred record, Oh, deign to tell, Seer of the pillared flame, and granite well! — MODERN ANTIQUITY. Who taught old Mother Earth to hide The lava's age-repeated tide, And bid, — though centuries toiled in vain, Her thousandth Eden bloom again ? Or solve what seras, since the shock Of flood and flame, rived hill and rock, Have rolled — to turn to flint and stone The Bison's horn — the Mammoth's bone! Imbedded deep and dark they lie, 'Neath mountains heaped on mountains high; So long, their very race is spent, They exist but in their monument ; But who their mausoleum made? Did earthquakes wield that mighty spade That renders all thy Babel piled But the card-castle of a child ? b 2 4 MODERN ANTIQUITY. Strange ! that Creation can't afford Such pomp to shroud her sixth-day's Lord, But gives each mean or monstrous thing That burial — she denies her king! These are Earth's secrets — but to gain Those of that Deep thou rent in twain, 'Twere worth a dull eternity Of common life — to question thee. Call to thy council, all the scribes That Israel trained in all her tribes, Canst thou, or they, by scale or line Of Matter, — Measure, — Weight, — define ? What giant 4 reared those isles that brave With coral brow the southern wave, A world reconquered from her foe, And conquering still, doomed still to grow. MODERN ANTIQUITY. Thy Noah saw one world destroyed, His sons are better far employed ; They build an ark — their father's trade — To find out worlds already made; Compared to which, the works of man, Till but an atom, last a span ; Though Archimedes the compass bent, And Choeops all his myriads lent ! View, sons of Egypt, Rome, and Greece, What Time can't mar, but must increase ; Your rules remodel, and reform, And seek your master —in a worm ! Canst find a plummet more profound Than these immortal builders — sound Dire fathoms deep, and then detect A grub — the mighty Architect ! O MODERN ANTIQUITY. Proud cities! hives of prouder men, What are ye now ? — th' Hysena's den ; — With hoof unshod the Zebra bounds O'er prone Palmyra's mouldering mounds. Who laid your shroud of sable on, O Tadmor, Thebes, and Babylon! — Then left, your spectred forms to deck, Nought but the ruin of the wreck? But Time himself is aged grown, — His teeth are gone with crushing stone ; His might to mow his scythe forbids, — 'Twas shattered on the Pyramids. Then we, that on these days are thrown, Must be the oldest Ancients known : The earliest, modern Earth hath seen, Was Adam, — in his apron green. MODERN ANTIQUITY. He lived when young' Creation pealed Her morning hymn o'er flood and field, Till all her infant offspring came To that great christening for a name._ While Earth, a virgin then, repaid His gentle toil without a spade ; And, decked in flowrets, dared the plough To trace a wrinkle on her brow. Then in his teens, a stripling blithe, Time worked his wing, but not his scythe, His leisure, pleasure — his employ To ripen beauty — not destroy. Unyoked by science to the sail, Young zephyrs sported in the gale, Or wantoned with the jocund wave,-— A truant then, but since a slave. 8 MODERN ANTIQUITY. The youthful Sun, with bridal smile, Kissed ocean — continent — and isle ; No Joshua curbed, no comet quailed, No dim eclipse his glory veiled. Then he that would the Ancients know, Must forward come, not backward go ; The learned lumber of the shelves Shows nothing older than ourselves. Yet Prejudice discovers true Antiquity, where all his new ; And more perversely still doth hold That all is new — where all is old. Prescribing, with dogmatic pen, Her milk of babes, as meat to men ; Nor kens the river's mighty bed, Still poring o'er the fountain-head. MODERN ANTIQUITY. But who in older times than we Shall live ? — That infant on the knee, 5 — See sights to us were never shown, And secrets know — to us unknown. He on that 'vantage-ground shall stand, That must far nobler views command ; By each successive hand or head, With grandeur clothed or verdure fed. Each buried sage might beg the boy To read a lecture on his toy, 6 — On principles profounder planned Than Boyle divined, or Bacon scanned ; And, ere his lip with down be spread, He might instruct their hoary head — Till, wrapped in wonder, o'er his tongue The pensive shade of Newton hung. 10 MODERN ANTIQUITY. For man alone — of all that lives In ocean, earth, or air — derives Light from his fellows 7 — Man alone, By tracing- backward, marches on : O'er all that has been retrospects, And hence on all that is — reflects ; And where success or failure steers, A beacon — or a Pharos rears. Keen to one point, beyond it blind, Could Instinct here compete with Mind, Some change had marked the spider's loom, Bee's fragrant cell, or beaver's room: Then might yon ape be taught to swell And feed the flame, he loves so well ; 8 Or India's ant to shun the bank Where all his van by millions sank. p MODERN ANTIQUITY. 11 For Instinct is as one that sees The hour-hand trace its slow degrees, But ne'er can tell the time of day By such a circumscribed survey ; But Man his firm foundation lays On past experience, and surveys His Sons — progressing in their might — Like Time — through darkness as through light : 10 Through darkness — with man's nonage blent, When each unconquered element, Not hope, but havoc did afford — By turns man's tyrant or his lord. Through light — when ray with ray combined, Collects, by mind propelling mind, From all earth, air, or ocean yield, Safety or strength — a sword or shield. 12 MODERN ANTIQUITY. By time deciduous, scooped by worms, 11 Docked in ravines, and launched by storms, The bark, that sculked from nook to nook, And feared a wreck in every brook, Bore in her rotten womb the plan That changed the destinies of man, — Dominion gave, — and bid him roll The Thunderer's peal from Pole to Pole. Wedded the Nations, joined their hands, Their goods, their chattels, and their lands, Made all that 's viewed from Andes' ridge No more a barrier, but a bridge '. Transplanted half that Anak brood That Earth o'ershadows, to the flood, And forests launched, but bend before That blast— had levelled them on shore. MODERN ANTIQUITY. 13 But whether art, by entreaty 'guiled, With phantom-forms amuse the child, Or bid her tube Protean — ope Thy fairy freaks, Kaleidoscope; Or, soaring view from silken ball The 12 Condor's watery double wall ; Or dive with Davy's net, to tame — As Vulcan, Mars — the fettered flame : Yet still with her ! what 's meanest tends Full oft to mightiest, loftiest ends, Bids Newton's apple, Franklin's kite, Give laws to Lightning and to Light. The hoary Sage, 13 that first did raise, Slow steaming from his faggot's blaze, The subtle Vapour, — instant hailed Alcides, in his cradle veiled ; 14 MODERN ANTIQUITY. Reason and Force, too oft opposed, For once their hands resistless closed, Combined to rear, and pledged their troth, This full epitome of both. Then, limb by limb — the giant rose, A Sampson — e'en in swaddling clothes ; Matured — he changed Earth's form and face, And half subjected time and space ; Pierced through the mountain's bowels deep, Where sunless, countless treasures sleep, And, like a Nero, ripped the womb From whence his iron sinews come ; The cost of all his outfit, told And summed, — he paid a thousand fold; And where the barren desert frowned, The ransom of a Croesus found. MODERN ANTIQUITY. 15 Thy hundred arms, O Briareus, To match with his, 'twere little use, — His flail to dust thy bones would grind, His winnow blow them to the wind. Command his speed, and quick elope, And double distance th' antelope ; 14 Or dare him, and the race he'll win From all that feather hath, or fin ; Or task his strength, and straight embark With all that lumbered Noah's ark; Then mast-less, sail-less, oar-less ride Triumphant against wind and tide; 15 Yet can those giant fingers ply The spindle for his Omphaly, Her cestus weave and broidered zone, Mould all her trinkets one by one. 16 MODERN ANTIQUITY, Her mirror form, her tresses fold In microscopic mesh of gold ; Or spread the gossamer to shroud Her beauties — as the moon — a cloud. Though prompt to pile, if needs be done, A pyramid, by set of sun, 16 Or mountains move, might gall a train Of harnessed elephants in vain ; Wouldst fit him for the field , proclaim All former strife a truant's game, 'Tis war no longer — but a wreck Of helmed head, and bridled neck : Not spoil, but havoc — none are ta'en — Not rout, but ruin — all remain, That fought — but not a tongue to tell The fate that all alike befel !— MODERN ANTIQUITY. 17 Still foot by foot, and year by year, This giant gains in growth and gear, But what he shall be, none can say But those that bide the Judgment-day; Or wait some deluge thundering forth His hundredth ploughshare o'er the earth; Then those might boast, that chance survived, They invented that, they but revived. But Time, nor rhyme, can tell the throes— As perfect from imperfect rose — Of minds that writhed in Error's yoke, Ere from Art's acorn burst her oak. 17 Long was the labour, tough the toil, Ceaseless the conflict and turmoil Of those, that Prejudice 13 that old Antseus braved, and half controlled 18 MODERN ANTIQUITY. As Cacus brutes— he fetters men, And drags them backwards to his den, Puts out their eyes, then bids them go And guide their brethren — that have two : Then 'tis his wont — when sorely pressed. To rouse some buried name from rest, His prowess vaunt, expose his head, And scare the living with the dead. He crotchets had, and many a whim, But who denied them — woe to him,— He 'd lash or lecture, — many thought 'Twas better to be flogged than taught. He did maintain 'twas not the blade But scabbard that the faulchion made, And that the merits of a steed Lay in his trappings, not his speed. MODERN ANTIQUITY. 19 He swore no living mortal, yet, E'er got beyond his Alphabet; — Termed cities nought but Riot's schools, The masters dead — the scholars fools : He said, the seed that held the tree Must, of the two, the greater be ; And that the Nile, at fountain-head, Was mightier far than in his bed : He held a feast, and there and then Served meat to babes, and milk to men, And swore 'twas proper, will or nill, And crammed it down with club or quill. An old decrepit dwarf he kept, That never talked but when he slept, This was his oracle, he 'd note All these his babblings down, and quote : c2 20 MODERN ANTIQUITY. He sunk a well, at vast expence Of time and cost, and drew from thence Some muddy water , — this he swore Excelled the river at his door ! He dubbed the faggots from his wood The best logicians since the flood, That threw more light on things unknown Than e'en from truth or reason shone; Strong slaves he had, and not a few, But how to rule them never knew, Their rebel hands but ruin spread, And sometimes broke their master's head ; He brought a parrot up, to speak All languages, and whistle Greek; What pleased him most, when all was done, Was this — He could talk sense in none; MODERN ANTIQUITY. '21 He trained an elephant, with skill, His teapot night and morn to fill, At length the beast, from sheer excess Of food, succumbed, and idleness; He had a guide 19 that knew the way O'er all his grounds, by night or day ; But him he kept in durance close, At cost of his own shins and nose. These freaks of his, to some may seem Irrelevant unto my theme, But those who through the surface pierce, Will see the Moral of my verse : His neighbours, these vagaries sad Had watched, and deemed him daft, or mad, Albeit he sometimes dealt a hint That had a world of method in 't; 22 MODERN ANTIQUITY. At length they mustered all their power To force his keep ; and storm his tower, And hand him, bound, by hook or crook, Over to Bedlam,- — or St. Luke; If 'twas a task his cave to force, To clear and cleanse it was a worse; Its age — augmented trash to rout, Had worn th' Augsean besom out; For Prejudice had been, in truth, An antiquarian from his youth, And any rubbish, — so 'twas old, To his chaotic hoard he rolled ; He dragged the mile-stone from its bed That Ajax hurled at Hector's head, On which was graved, what must destroy All cavil— "Seven Miles from Troy!" 20 MODERN ANTIQUITY. 23 Here pile on pile, embattled stood, All reading, none could read or would; Huge folios ranged, but not for show! With these he levelled many a foe. Systems, by others or themselves O'erthrown, all settled on his shelves, Nor one, — so 'twas exploded, — lacked, But, chose them, like old China, cracked; Flawed astronomic cycles, charts From Tycho, Ptolemy, Descartes, Old armour too that buckled on 'Twas vain alike to fight or run ! With lantern of Diogenes, And slipper of Empedocles, 21 And self-same ink-horn, and ink too ! That Martin at the Devil threw ; 22 24 MODERN ANTIQUITY. He showed the very shoes that shod The Giant-race before the flood, And "clouted" too, yet would they suit And tightly fit a common foot! The bones of martyrs he'd parade, A second army might have made, And if a head, or heart — or so, Was scant — 'twas even — some had two ! ! But most he prized th' identic hat Of him who proved a ball w&sflat; And a huge jack, his mightiest feat, That made the grate turn, — not the meat ! He had a tube that spied out true Antiquity, where all was new; Reversed, it as correctly told That all is new, where all is old. MODERX ANTIQUITY. 25 And an old almanack to show Who live the longest, youngest grow, And that the world, as here displayed, Was oldest, when it first was made! 23 Think of their toil, that did embark To force and cleanse this second ark, While "many a rude repeated stroke" Of sledge and axe the portal broke; But Prejudice — who hated nought So much as Innovation, — fought Most manfully to keep aloof These rough reformers from his roof: Some then he mangled, some he slew, And others to the fire he threw, And some He took, these made a boast, He'd try them all- — but first would roast : 26 MODERN ANTIQUITY. But finding that the fight grew warm, He had recourse to spell and charm ; More imps and goblins summoned he Than e'er beleagured Anthony. But, once an entrance gained, they found Much more to frighten, than to wound, And clouds of fancied enemies Turned out but dust to blind their eyes. At length in his own Donjon penned, He thought it time to call a friend !— Skilled to divide, distract, or make His foes their very selves mistake; The despot Doubt, 24 — that some hath taught They're not of bone or body wrought: 25 And others in a trance control, From which they wake without a soul ! MODERN ANTIQUITY. 27 Doubt ! — Anarch old — that staggers all 26 — The mighty vulgar as the small, Claims from all hearts th' allegiance won, Yet satisfaction gives to none; And still resisted, still must reign, Dreaded — abhorred — reviled in vain, Sole tyrant he, that still must thrive, While any of his subjects live ! The stoutest arm he fastest binds, Still strongest in the strongest minds; Who struggles hardest, suffers worst, And tightens bands he cannot burst. Doubt to his loathed embraces woos One goddess — that would fain refuse; Hope — fairest daughter of the skies, She — with Him droops— without Him dies; 28 MODERN ANTIQUITY. Fear is his mistress, — she in sooth Flies not, but seeks him, nothing loth, His converse courts, by bed or board, And loves more than herself, her lord: Their union teemed one monster grim, More false than her — more fell than him — Suspense, — that blends our double dread, His Mother's heart — his Father's head! Like Hannibal with Rome, — from youth Doubt sneers eternal war with Truth, Till with one voice, both Truth and Time, O'er Doubt and Death their Psean chime; But till that hour arrive — he tries To whisper down these enemies, And hints 'twere better trust a spark. Than risk their rendering all things dark ; MODERN ANTIQUITY, 29 Thus— those reversions that inspire A Wilson's zeal, — a Sydney's fire, Doubt would — but Faith forbids — destroy, And cancel the security : For Wisdom would with Virtue wed, And e'en on earth their nuptial bed Might Angels bless, — and Heaven their hands Unite ! — but Doubt forbids the banns ; Shows just enough of future ill To make us pause — but not stand still, And just enough of future grace To make us start— not run the race ! But He -that made the struggle hard, Hath heightened also the reward; Th' uncertain haven, and the storm, Tis these — a Palinurus form ! 30 MODERN ANTIQUITY. Doubt most dreads Truth, and right before Her portal stands, and bolts the door; Her choicest treasures too hath he Locked up — but cannot find the key; For nought illumes his tower or wall, Let him that scales them heed a fall, Or take a torch, for scarce a spark Hath he, — nor fights — but in the dark; Shrouded in night, — the random blows, He deals alike on friends and foes, Had made the one-eyed Cyclops shun, This mightier giant, that hath none i Would'st bind this Sampson sleeping? — He Alas is sure to wake with thee ! One foe can foil him — but beware — Nor seek that dread ally — Despair ! MODERN ANTIQUITY, 31 Doubt's castle on Conjecture's sea,— Stable from instability, — Rides, — lashed to moorings more profound Than art can solve — or wisdom sound; Yet hath it weathered many a gale, Hath made the loftiest structures quail, By master-builders proudly planned, To stand awhile, then sink in sand; Whether by craft Chaldean, thrown O'er Memnon's head, and Dendrah's zone, Or marble dome, or ruin wild, By Phidias carved, or Druid piled : O ye ! that followed long the torch That beamed from stoa, grove, or porch, O mourn with me ! their lamps puffed out, And one by one — by breath of Doubt : 32 MODERN ANTIQUITY. His household troops, that neutral ground Command, 'twixt light and darkness, found A space strown thick, and wide, and far, With wrecks and ruins of the war ! Few pierce this limbo-land of cloud, But doff their armour for their shroud, And leave — to cheer their comrades on — Their trophies — and their skeleton ! Yet inroads on this gloomy realm, That mists and shadows overwhelm, Are made,- — for all that Truth would hail, Must force this frontier line, or fail; And through this Vestibule have passed All master-minds — the first, as last, And inch by inch, and day by day, Have cut their road, or fought their way; MODERN ANTIQUITY 33 Yet good from evil may be wrought: Who never doubted — never thought ; The battle brightens, — but the truce Rusts out the blade — for want of use; Who thinks as others, and agrees With all, finds nought, and little sees; Did all accord, then all might stand Stock-still, and darkness drown the land ! " Complacent dullness," witnessed long- All men agreed — but all men wrong, No Discord jarred her gentle rule, Nor ruffled Error's stagnant pool; E'en Luther, harnessed out by Truth, Proud Leo fought, or Henry, both; Or he the Wizard deemed, — allied His Talisman to reason's side ; D 34 MODERN ANTIQUITY, Their thunder pealed o'er papal Rome, Braved her anathemas, her gloom Dispelled, and struck her conclave mute, Trembling to threaten, or refute ! True talent is the ray that flings A novel light o'er common things; And those that dead most followers boast, Alive — with others differed most; Think with the crowd, and present blame Thou shalt escape, and future fame, And live at ease, — but vainly sigh For Harvey's immortality ! Columbus differed,— but he found The prize his mighty mission crowned, And bid a new world rise, t' unfold The rooted errors of the Old 1 MODERN ANTIQUITY. 35 But tell Val d'Arno !— Fiesole !— Your starry pilgrim's destiny; What was your Galileo's life? For truth a race, — with Doubt a strife ! Alike decried, alike deplored, Alive rejected, dead adored; The first did galling fetters bind, The second in a dungeon pined i But think not such, their fate bewailed, When friendship frowned, or fortune failed, Or life! — Death but ensured their prize, As night hides earth t' unveil the skies I 27 True fame 's a plant that seems to need A body buried — for its seed ; And ere the churlish sucklings thrive, The parent-stock must cease to live! d2 36 MODERN ANTIQUITY. The good, the great, the wise, the just, Are little valued till they 're dust, Nor till they mutter "Earth to earth," Can men perceive another's worth ! To find and count his merits o'er The noisome cell of Death explore, Thus Indians search, so travellers tell, For finest pearls — the putrid shell ! 28 Thus great or little, old or new, Doubtful or certain, false or true; Discordant else, all aid my rhyme, Prove time by truth, and truth by time. Who lived the longest — he but staid To witness the foundation laid, Or he that outlived Solomon And saw that seventh wonder done MODERN ANTIQUITY. 6i And science ere her wing was grown, Like eaglet, from his craggy throne Delayed, — for strength by trial won,— Her flight adventurous to the sun. Wisdom alone, refreshed by time, Still marches onward to her prime, Doomed, like the lines 29 herself can teach, To approach it never — never reach. Who lived before us did in truth See Wisdom's childhood;^— we, her youth; But men — nor days, unborn, untold, Shall ever witness Wisdom old ! Time's light, and depth, and breadth, and length, Add force to force, and strength to strength, To that alone that cannot die, Nor even touch maturity. 38 MODERN ANTIQUITY,. Then let not error's pedant head Subject the living to the dead; But break her old inverted rule, That sent the master back to school. Replant the tree of knowledge, thrown By book- winked bigots upside down; And bury what they ate— the roots, And what they buried, eat, — the fruits. Till universal Truth shall gain Her empyrean, Doubt must reign; O then let Truth the centre be, The circle, Unanimity ! NOTES TO MODERN ANTIQUITY. Note 1 , page 2. " The stars, to music of the spheres Their twinkling feet and listening ears Have lent so long, that some the dance Have quitted, for a welcome trance." Lost stars, as, for instance, in the Pleiades and the tail of the Ram. Note 2 , page 2. ■* So old and ancient are the hills, Their date a musty proverb fills ; And all the fire that warmed their breast, By frost of ages is suppressed." The tops of many mountains bear signs of having once been volcanoes, now extinct. 40 NOTES TO MODERN ANTIQUITY. Not e 3 , page 2. "But Thou that o'er th' Egyptian hurled Thy crystal wall, and didst a world Both made and marred record, Oh, deign to tell, Seer of the pillared flame, and granite well ! — " The questions addressed to Moses in this and the fol- lowing stanzas, are beautifully poetical, and hint, as our author very justly observes, at some of " Earth's secrets :" while to question "the seer of the pillared flame" on other facts, " were worth a dull eternity." Note*, page 4. '« What giant reared those isles that brave With coral brow the southern wave." The giant that formed and still continues to increase the Isle of France and other islands in "the southern wave" is the small zoophite insect that inhabits the coral reefs. This pigmy architect, like his brother fisb, the madrepore, (the original builder of the islands of Malta and of Gozo,) commences at the bottom of the sea, the NOTES TO MODERN ANTIQUITY. 41 foundation of the embryo isle, and continues through ages to augment the testaceous fabric, until at length it reaches above the waves, and presents a resting-place for birds : in process of time these newly erected points become solid, and some enterprising navigator designates them as newly discovered islands. Should not the gigantic labours of these insects humble the arrogance of haughty man 1 and should not the reflections called forth by such mighty wonders make the atheist to adore the Creator of all? " Your rules remodel and reform. And seek your master in a worm." Note 5 , page 9. "But who in older times than we Shall live?— That infant on the knee,— See sights to us were never shown, And secrets know— to us unknown.'' The debt of respect and reverence entailed upon us by the efforts of those who lived before us, is a just debt; but this debt has been consigned to some who, in their zeal for their clients, would gladly foreclose the mortgage, and seize on the estate. It might with safety be affirmed, that 42 NOTES TO MODERN' ANTIQUITY. science is at this moment in such a state of rapid progres- sion, that the tyro of the next century will be competent to instruct the ablest proficient of the present, in some of the most important secrets in " rerum natura," could the hoary scholar be brought up to take the benefit of the ac- quirements of his juvenile preceptor. Note 6 , page 9. ** Each buried sage might beg the boy To read a lecture on his toy, — On principles profounder planned Than Boyle divined, or Bacon scanned." We must, of course, read this line to refer to far more noble discoveries than the mere whipping a top, or flying a kite. It is, perhaps, unfortunate that many of the later discoveries will have a tendency of a destructive, rather than of a salutary nature ; and it is not on all occasions that philosophy, like the safety-lamp, while she gives light, prevents the conflagration. NOTES TO MODERN ANTIQUITY. 43 Note 7 , page 10. " For man alone,— of all that lives In ocean, earth, or air,— derives Light from his fellows; — Man alone, By tracing backward, marches on." Buftbn, in his introduction to the history and general character of Parrots, has written much on the power of imitation in birds and animals, and, after explaining the two distinct sorts of imitation, says, "Nous n'apprendrons jamais aux animaux a se perfectionner d'eux-memes. Chaque individu peut emprunter de nous sans que l'espece en profite : aucun ne peut communiquer aux autres ce qu'il a recu de nous." Note R , page 10. " Then might yon ape be taught to swell And feed the flame, he loves so well." It is a well-known fact, that a monkey will sit by a fire, rub his hands, and warm himself with great delight - y but he was never yet known to "feed the flame," by adding any kind of fuel to the dying embers. 44 NOTES TO MODERN ANTIQUITY. Note 9 , page 10. " Or India's ant to shun the bank Where all his van by millions sank." Travellers have observed, particularly in America, where the ants are in much greater quantities than in Europe, that the destruction of millions of their tribes in the rapid rivers of that country, is no warning to those that follow the same track, of the certain fate that awaits them. They arrive at the bank, and such is their instinct, unaided by reflection, that they seek to follow those gone before : their certain destruction is another clear proof that instinct is '• Keen to one point ; beyond it, blind." Note 10 , page 1 1 . •''But Man his firm foundation lays On past experience, and surveys His Sons— progressing in their might — Like Time— through darkness as through light." The march of knowledge, like the march of time, pro- gresses in the darkness, no less than in the light ; antece- NOTES TO MODERN ANTIQUITY, 45 dent ignorance has mainly contributed to present advance- ment : the very errors of those that lived before us, like buoys anchored on shoals, have warned us what to avoid, while their efforts at discovery have also taught us, like beacons, what to pursue. Note ll , page 12. «* By time deciduous, scooped by worms, Docked in ravines, and launched by storms, The bark, that sculked from nook to nook, And feared a wreck in every brook." Boats, similar to the chance-formed canoes here spoken of by the author, and of which worms are the unconscious artists, are to this day used in the narrow rivers and streams in Greece, and are called by the natives " Mo- noxolos," signifying a boat formed of a single piece of wood. 46 NOTES TO MODERN ANTIQUITY. Note 12 , page 13. "Or, soaring, view from silken ball The Condor's watery double wall." The Condor is, I believe, the largest of the vulture tribe, and inhabits chiefly the lofty mountains of Peru, whose height is about twenty thousand feet. Tbe " silken ball," or air-balloon, has surpassed this elevation, from which the adventurous traveller might see the two oceans, which our author designates under the title of " The Condor's watery double wall." Note n , page 13. " The hoary Sage, that first did raise, Slow steaming from his faggot's blaze, The subtle Vapour,— instant hailed Alcides, in his cradle veiled." The venerable person here alluded to is Edward Somerset, Marquis of Worcester, whose political history during the reign of Charles the Second is too well known to be alluded to in tbis note ; we shall therefore confine ourselves to that part of his life which relates to his philo- NOTES TO MODERN ANTIQUITY. 47 sophical experiments and discoveries. The Encyclopaedia edited by Dr. Rees, Dr. John Robison of Edinburgh, Dr. T. Young-, and other celebrated writers on the subject of mechanical philosophy, have one and all attributed to the Marquis of Worcester the invention of the application of steam, as the primum mobile of the wonderful machines now existing. " The Scantling of One Hundred Inven- tions," perhaps better known by the title of "The Cen- tury of Inventions," written by this "hoary Sage," appeared in 1663. In his 68th invention, he speaks of the discovery he had made, of which he received the first idea while he was a prisoner in the Tower of London, after his return from France, to which country he had escaped from Ireland. Is it not possible, nay probable, that the Mar- quis, during his stay in France, had seen the second edition of the works of Salomon de Caus, printed there at that period ; and that he retained some notion of the vari- ous experiments mentioned by De Caus as connected with a steam apparatus, that he had invented some time previ- ous to 1663, the date of the publication of the " Century of Inventions," printed, as we before stated, by the Marquis of Worcester? Without positively fixing the period of the discovery of the power of steam to the lifetime of Heron of Alexandria, who lived about 120 years before the birth of our Saviour, 48 NOTES TO MODERN ANTrQUTTY. we will come at once to a much later period ; and must certainly admit that the power of steam was known in Spain 150 years before the invention of the Marquis in the Tower of London. Blasco de Garay, a captain in the Spanish navy, in 1543, applied the power of steam to a vessel of two hun- dred tons, and proved to a large concourse of persons with what facility a ship could be moved, backwards and for- wards, by these means only, without the aid of winds, oars, or tides. This experiment was made, and repeated by order of Charles the Fifth, before an assembly of learned menj and so completely satisfied were the persons appointed to investigate this new discovery and important secret, that the Emperor conferred a pension and other favours on Blasco de Garay, as appears by records kept at Simancas, in Catalonia, and which bear date " Barcelona, 17 June, 1543." Thus we have authentic evidence that the power of steam was not only known, but practically applied, 120 years before the Marquis of Worcester published his "Century of Inventions. " The late Mr. Colton was partly in error in attributing to the stone of such a work, one position might be insisted on, which the most confirmed Pjrrhonist could not but admit; and which, being admitted, would involve consequences from which he could not escape. The position I allude to is neither more nor less than this, the possibility of a future state of retribution. Now this happens to be a most awful possibility: first, because it is impossible to deny it; secondly, because it embraces such tremendous responsibilities. More fully to understand the nature of these responsibilities, the author of the work contemplated would do well to dedicate some of his lucubrations to an examination of the real value of any good, and the true estimate of any evil, attached to this present life. From 166 NOTES TO MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. such an examination it would distinctly appear, that no wise man is warranted in allowing bis eternal interests to be put in jeopardy, even by the possibility of a future state ; because, as compared to such a bare possibility, all the goods and evils of tbe present life become an evanes- cent point, and sink into nothingness. Tins truth might be submitted to the rigid test of tbe strictest calculation, and would be still more confirmed by so severe an ordeal. We might ask, for instance, how many seconds composed the life of a Parr or a Jenkins? — a task easily accom- plished. But, if we ask a second question, we may wait long enough for the answer, — How many collective lives of such men as Parr and Jenkins would be requisite to make up an eternity? We can answer the first question, because a second is an absolute and component part of the life of man ; but we cannot answer the second, because the longest life of man is no component part of eternity. The longest life of man, as compared to eternity, is so trifling, that it becomes an evanescent point, a thing not to be taken into the calcula- tion. What, then, are the consequences deducible from these facts? First, that the longest life of man bears a smaller proportion to eternity than a single second does to NOTES TO MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 167 the longest life of man ; and, secondly, that he is little short of a madman, who, to avoid any evil or gain any good here, puts himself within the possibility of injuring his eternal interests; because he wounds these interests for the sake of a gratification, the duration of which bears a shorter proportion to eternity than a single second does to life. Note 11 , page 113. " Holding the key of Truth within his hand, On Doubt, her vestibule, behold him stand, And point, like Moses, to that brighter spot, Pursued, explored, attain'd, but enter'd not." One reason why those minds endowed with the keenest acumen of observation, and the greatest vigour of thought, so often leave the subject of their speculations in a state of uncertainty most embarrassing to themselves, and most unsatisfactory to others, would seem to be this : ignorance lies at the bottom of all human knowledge, and the deeper we penetrate the nearer we arrive unto it. After certain points have been passed, and certain lines, as it were, of 168 NOTES TO MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. demarcation penetrated, we invariably meet with certain obstacles which we cannot pass, and which seem to say to all efforts of human wisdom, "Thus far shalt thou go, and no farther, and here shall thy proud waves be stayed." Take any branch of science you please, and pursue the light it gives you to its very extremity, it will infallibly bring you at last to the point where the philosopher will be no wiser than the peasant; and the only difference is, that the ignorance of the one lies nearer the surface, whilst the want of knowledge in the other is found at the end of the labyrinth. Note 12 , page 116. " Blame not the stars nor destinies, — In thine own hand the prowess lies ; Thy map of life review : The march was plain, but thou, beguiled By some short cut, or prospect wild, Hast wandered from the true." That every man is more or less the fabricator of his own fortune, is too obvious to be insisted on ; but this may be worth observing, that the more applies to those who avail NOTES TO MISCELLANEOUS VOEMS. 180 themselves of opportunity, the less to those who do not. We have, however, two great authorities against us on this subject, — Shakspeare and Butler. The first observes : " There is a Providence that shapes our ends^ Rough-hew them how we will." One would conceive it difficult to express this thought better; and yet Shakspeare has perhaps been surpassed by Butler, who, with his usual pregnant brevity, thus ex- presses himself: '< For whatsoe'er we perpetrate, We do but row, — we are steer'd by fate." Texts, however, of an opposite tendency might easily be cited from Shakspeare, who, in common with all good dra- matists, assimilates the sentiments to the characters who utter them. But to return: — All who are about to enter on life should be most strongly recommended never to neglect opportunity. Opportunity has effected more than fortune, or even talent : she has often taken them both by the hand, and found eyes for the one, and ears for the other. Therefore, should Opportunity knock at your door, neglect her not; and remember this, that, inasmuch as she 170 NOTES TO MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. always makes the first advances, she is on that account particularly sensible of rebuff. Note y \ page 117. *' Self-pride, of good and ill the source. Still prompts again the tortuous course Of error to begin ; Blames, for the ruin and the rout Of all our hopes, the foe without, Not the false friend within." '•Stop, sir," observed Napoleon to Barry O'Meara: " you are mistaken ; I had no enemy_ but myself ; I have my- self alone to blame, for all the disasters that happened unto me." This is the short history of most, who, having failed in their undertakings, waste that time in complaining of their misfortunes which were better occupied in correcting their mistakes. I believe there are very few that would choose to live their life over again ; but, allow them in their second existence to profit by the experience they had acquired in the first, then indeed there are very few that would refuse it. An actor on the mimic stage, preparatory NOTES TO MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 171 to his appearance before the public, is allowed a rehearsal ; but, in the eventful drama of real life, no rehearsal is allowed. Furthermore, we are called upon to please an audience remarkable for its predispositions not to be pleased, and at the precise season of life when we are least aware of the value of character, and least able to follow the dic- tates of prudence : this is the very time when we are ex- pected to lay the foundation of the one, and practise all the precepts of the other ! Note l \ page 122. " It is not of the heart, nor of the head, But of the inmost soul, sustain'd and fed By that ambrosial feast to Israel given, — Gather'd on earth, but sent direct from heaven !" The true poet must of necessity collect his images from earth ; but the inspiration that invigorates them with life, and enriches them with beauty, like the fabled fire that animated the Promethean clay, is not of earth, but of heaven. 172 NOTES TO MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Note 15 , page 125. " O thou, for ever doomed to prove The comrade and the curse of love, — The bravest thou canst force to yield, And pierce them through their very shield." Seeing that Jealousy inflicts her wounds through that self-pride which is our shield on all other occasions, it strikes one as somewhat remarkable that Frenchmen, a race by no means deficient in honour, sensibility, and high feeling, very rarely resort to atrocious or desperate reme- dies under the influence of this gloomy passion. Perhaps the solution of the difficulty is this: their vanity heals the wounds inflicted on their pride, and, instead of revenging themselves on the fair inconstant, they content themselves by pitying the bad taste she has evinced, in abandoning one so worthy of admiration; and they finish the matter, not by destroj'ing their former idol, but by seeking another, whose discernment shall enable her not only to select such merit, but also to preserve it. NOTES TO MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 173 Note w , page 127. " The throbbing heart, the quivering lip, That shook a Marlborough's frame, Were but the throes, — the giant birth Was Blenheim's deathless name !" It is a well-known fact, that the Duke of Marlborough was always greatly agitated on going into action : he used to say, " This little body trembles at what this great soul is about to perform." Note ir , page 140. " Thus, throned on rocks, Missouri takes His giant leap, and thundering shakes The depth of woods below ! His lone magnificence displays, Where not an eye the pomp surveys But His that bade him flow." The cataract of the Missouri is very rarely seen, except by such enterprising travellers as Humboldt or Clarke. I have been informed that this cataract is the grandest in the world : that of Niagara did not quite equal my expecta- tions, —it struck me as being minor fama. 174 NOTES TO MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Note 1S , page 141. " The faults, alas ! or follies of a friend, We catch and copy, though we can't commend ; As to his virtues, if these e'er create A rival effort, 'tis constrain'd or late : These we commend indeed, but seldom imitate." In confirmation of the above position, it may be re- marked, tbat large cities, camps, manufactories, or any other establishment, whereby large masses of population are concentrated on any particular spot, have invariably demoralised society, rather than ameliorated it. The rea- son is this, bad habits are more rapidly communicated than those that are good. But some will farther ask, why should they be more rapidly communicated? We would reply, that vicious courses always proffer some trivial but imme- diate gratification or enjoyment; but those that are virtu- ous are followed up with difficulty, and rewarded late : — temptation paj-s in ready money, but self-denial draws a bill. As far as the body is concerned, the parallel is equally true, and almost as deplorable ; for, although health is constantly catching disease from another's sick- ness, yet sickness never yet caught .supitv from another's health. KOTPS TO MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Note 19 ,:page 143. ' This lamp that lightens all that lives, Like some that guard the dead, E'en by th' intruder's entrance is To utter darkness sped!" Rosi crucian lamps Note 20 , page 147. " Polemics with Religion play, As truant children cast From hand to hand the flying ball, But to be lost at last." This can only happen when controversy is carried on with that degree of acrimony and bitterness, that it induces the destruction of the brightest part of that which we combat to defend. But most evils have their concomitant good : religion at present is in more danger from indifference than persecution, — from the supineness of the calm, rather than the devastation of the hurricane. Minds that are 176 NOTES TO MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. energetic in opposition are too often torpid in acquiescence, and souls that dose in harmony are alert in discord. Tn this particular they may be compared to that Turkish envoy, who, on his appearance at the Opera, astonished the Parisians bv bestowing all his applause and animation on the din produced by the tuning of the instruments, but was observed to be fast asleep the moment the concert ' V mmMmsmm Wvr4A^jsA/-wyy w ^ yO, v J.,^ v W'etf^»0O' I^UMMMMi *^Mgf ^>?y, iyMO-^wrw jyv xmSSk jVw'^.^-VV- iWW yV' m»^mmm^ !^yyyi j j j W. ,guy wy» u ■ v WWm yyyyuw wJ*m ^v^wm f^wMf ^mmm 'Mti&MM mffiM. WW&i 'mm.