7; 
 
 vJ* *f 
 
 dfok 
 
 »/** 
 
\ 
 
 J" • * ' 
 
 
 \ 
 
 N .. 
 
I: 
 
AN ESSAY 
 
 OS THB 
 
 POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 OF 
 
 THE ANCIENTS ; 
 
 WITH 
 
 ORIGINAL POEMS 
 
 OS 
 
 "HER MAJESTY QUEEN VICTORIA'S VISIT TO CASTLE 
 HOWARD;" - 
 
 "THE' MORAL AND SOCIAL TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES ;" 
 AND OTHER INTERESTING SUBJECTS. 
 
 BY A. G. TYSON", 
 
 (THOR OF A TREATISE OH "SHORT HAND," ETC, 
 
 SECOND EDITION. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 MESSRS HAMILTON, ADAMS, AND CO., 33, PATERNOSTER-ROW 
 
 MR. SUNTER, STONEGATE, YORK; 
 
 AND ALL BOOKSELLERS. 
 
 1852. 
 
 [PRICE FIVE SHILLINGS BOUND IN CLOTH.] 
 
7 
 
 T? By 
 
»7 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Poetry, in the estimation of many, is a very questionable 
 subject ; and for any one to announce this as the object of 
 his pursuit, advocacy, or approbation, is, often, but a signal 
 for others to sneer and jest at his expense. And yet even 
 those who jest at the Poet are not unfrequently themselves 
 singers, musicians, and men of taste ; and sometimes, also, 
 admirers of certain Poets ; although, what is not less odd, 
 such admirers do not usually agree very well as to the 
 individual object of their approbation. And, again, what 
 is still more- incongruous, we have observed that the most 
 determined sober-minded proser will occasionally finger 
 about amongst the Poets, and, like a sparrow with your 
 choicest seeds, snatch here and there, with wonderful 
 adaptability, the choice morsels which suit his own 
 digestion. 
 
 With such contradictory elements, it is not the easiest 
 task to define what is the public taste, or the public 
 opinion, in reference to this art. To say that there is even 
 a small respectable number of Englishmen who never were 
 influenced by the finer impulses of Poetic feeling, would be, 
 I think, contrary to the truth. The apparent contempt 
 which is cast on Poetry would, indeed, premise that it 
 is disagreeable to the human mind — at least, so far as 
 Englishmen are concerned. But when we stick closely to 
 the inquiry, we soon perceive that this contempt is only 
 superficial ; that it has, in fact, no natural root in the 
 soul ; that when the spirits of men are unbent from the 
 trammels of habit and custom, they express themselves 
 usually in rapturous strains of spontaneous Poesy. I have 
 seen some of the hardest-tempered specimens of humanity 
 
IV INTRODUCTION. 
 
 exchange their frigidity into the natural flow of harmony ; 
 and when their restraints were loosened, and their sym- 
 pathies awakened, they have become, for a time, more 
 Poetic than the Poets themselves. 
 
 However, as this introduction will not afford sufficient 
 space or a fair opportunity for discussing the nature, cause, 
 and effect of these general and very comprehensive ques- 
 tions, I mention them at present merely to show the 
 contradictions, and the deterring prospect that hang on 
 his vision who attaches himself to the cause of Poetry. 
 My firm and deliberately-formed opinion is, that the 
 distaste of Englishmen towards the Poetic art is founded 
 on false habit and mistaken notions, consequent, in a great 
 measure, on our system of education ; and partly, also, on 
 the lucre-seeking devotedness of our nation. But I leave 
 the further consideration of these topics till some other 
 occasion. 
 
 The generous reader will at once conceive, from these 
 remarks, with what diffidence I have ventured to appear 
 before the public. It has been the matter of many years' 
 conflict with me, as to whether I should or not bring this 
 volume to the press ; and the difficulty of meeting with 
 an attentive and qualified adviser is not a little ; while, at 
 the same time, it is next to impossible for a man to judge 
 with strict correctness on his own productions. All these 
 reasons I have weighed many times, and with much hesi- 
 tation ; for it would be unfair to ask unconcernedly the 
 attention of persons whose opinions we feel somewhat to 
 disagree with our own. 
 
 With such a bundle of doubts and uncertainties, it may 
 be legitimately asked, why have I written ? Why have I 
 published ? To answer briefly — I have written in obedience 
 to a natural propensity, and for the pure pleasure arising 
 from such exercise. This has been, perhaps, the greatest 
 and most regular enjoyment of my leisure time, even from 
 early youth. When grieved with everything else, I have 
 turned to my books with certain satisfaction and relief ; 
 and this kind provision of elasticity of the spirit, implanted 
 in my soul, has, no doubt, kept me out of many amusements 
 
INTRODUCTION. V 
 
 of a much more mischievous tendency. Thus, instead of 
 being any hinderance to my business habits, as some pre- 
 tend that Poetry is, I believe it has been with me uniformly 
 a stimulant to exertion, and a balm to the sores of com- 
 mercial vexation. I have, therefore, so little to regret 
 from the review of my acquaintance with the beneficent 
 Muses, that I can heartily wish my best friends to be 
 possessed of a similar attachment only in a greater and 
 more refined degree. Poetry is the most innocent of 
 amusements, and yet the most pleasing ; it consists, 
 properly, in the cultivation of fine perceptions, good 
 morals, and just reasons, which lead the mind to some 
 grand conclusion. These are what I think the right 
 materials for this art, and a love for these is a love for 
 Poetry — a disposition implanted in human nature by the 
 benevolent Creator, as a source of continual satisfaction 
 and enjoyment. 
 
 One fact, often imputed to the Poets, is not to be 
 denied — namely, that they sometimes go wild in their 
 imaginations ! This is often set forth in derision against 
 the whole class ! But what of that ? It is, surely, nothing 
 extraordinarily strange that half a score Poets should run 
 enthusiastic, while, at the same time, a thousand worship- 
 pers of mammon make a complete wreck of intellect, and 
 display every unhappy symptom of insanity ! This is 
 emphatically a mania-generation ! Look where you will, 
 it is manifest ! Society is in the daily turmoil of one 
 mania or other ! Speculation is so rampant, that it 
 engulfs the major part of the capital and intellect of the 
 land ; and no sooner is one mania past than another 
 treads on its heels ; and they vie with each other for 
 patronage and plunder, till, in the usual course of things, 
 they sink, dragging with them many, who little expected, 
 into the abyss of bankruptcy, insanity, and suicide ! 
 Where has Poetry made such devastations in society as 
 are constantly arising from that ambition after wealth, to 
 which we give the modest titles of trade, industry, and 
 the like \ Nay, verily, the madness of Poetry is perfect 
 moderation in the comparison ! 
 
VI INTRODUCTION. 
 
 And, besides this, Poets are not so mad as old Cornelius 
 Agrippa and his modern disciples assume. The verdict is 
 one only of imperception ! Would you have a jury of 
 lawyers to bring in a decision on the symptoms, the cause, 
 and the operations of a fever ? Or, would you apply at a 
 medical hall for the solving of some knotty points of law ? 
 Certainly not, say you. And why, then, should the 
 opinions, modes, and tactics of Poets be subjected to a 
 right of judgment, or an imperious dictum, which applies 
 not to any other class of men ? I only once had this 
 question answered, and it was by a superior young clergy- 
 man, who gave one fell swoop, one general anathema, on 
 all modern Poesy (thank the stars for my personal escape ! 
 he had not read any of my verses) ! Well, his answer was, 
 that he " knew too much of the caliber of modem Poets to 
 countenance them /" Ah, me ! thought I, how strange that 
 such spirits as Scott, Southey, Wordsworth, Hogg, Moore, 
 Tennyson, Montgomery, and many more, should be dashed 
 off the perch of fame by the tremendous flap of one re- 
 doubtable screech owl ! I felt a slight momentary inclina- 
 tion to remind him, as a fitting parallel, that there are people 
 who think such hard things respecting some specimens of 
 the modern black cloth as to cast reflections on their 
 whole system ! But, resolving not to measure ignorance 
 and impudence with him, or to imitate his questionable 
 courtesy, I left him in quiet possession of his antiquated 
 self-sufficiency, to chant old Ovid's " Metamorphoses," or 
 Tate and Brady, as he should prefer. And still, I think 
 it a pity that some of those who ought to be excellent and 
 enlightened above others, should have so little harmony 
 and charity in their souls. I would hope, after all, that 
 such examples are not very numerous ; or we will suppose 
 that this callow wisdom-bird had not framed his answer 
 with sufficient caution ; and lest I might be misinterpreted, 
 I cheerfully record my pleasurable experience with some of 
 the more liberal of the clerical profession. 
 
 But, though I be well satisfied with my courtship of 
 the Muses, yet I am by no means unconcerned in 
 publishing ; and this through the distrust of my 
 
INTRODUCTION. VII 
 
 individual proficiency. I would not willingly reflect dis- 
 credit on a cause often at discount. My exercises are 
 those of simple, unassisted nature, and my theme may 
 therefore suffer for want of sufficient rearing. However, 
 as I think I take a rather different view to some men of 
 the natural position and claims of Poetry, I suppose it 
 behoves me to offer some of my reflections to the genuine 
 searchers after truth ; and if but one thought out of the 
 whole should spring up to the profit of universal intelli- 
 gence, I shall think myself amply paid in owning ever so 
 trifling stock in the general fund. 
 
 For the purpose of leading my readers gently into my 
 way of viewing the natural offices of Poetry, I have 
 gathered a multitude of incidents relating to this subject, 
 from the history of the Hebrews, Greeks, and Romans, 
 who, in many of their manners and customs, were much 
 more allied to nature than we are. Not that I can 
 approve all their doings ; by no means ; but much may be 
 learned from a general review. To the unlearned, many 
 of these Poetic usages, when related in plain English, will 
 be both new and interesting ; and the classical scholar 
 may find in them some acceptable reminiscences of his 
 former reading. 
 
 From this collection of historical facts will be seen, at 
 one view, that an extensive use was made of Poetry in the 
 primitive ages, before the almost last remains of natural 
 harmony were eradicated from the human soul, by the 
 false principles of civilization. These reviews, and the 
 reflections arising therefrom, ought to break down some of 
 our narrow English and anti-natural sentiments ; and, as 
 intimated elsewhere, it is my intention to follow out 
 the argument in a future essay. 
 
 With reference to the pieces in verse, all I shall say, by 
 way of recommendation, is, that they were not written 
 intentionally for book-making, but for my private edifica- 
 tion and expression of thought on passing events, as the 
 occasions presented. Nevertheless, the vanity of author- 
 ship, which attaches even to the humblest of men, has no 
 doubt crept in before this, and, combining with some hope 
 
Vlll INTRODUCTION. 
 
 of profit, and the encouragement of several good friends, 
 has brought me to the resolve of publishing. I do not 
 volunteer to challenge criticism, because he would be a 
 more fortunate man than this world produces in whom 
 no fault could be found ; and the critic is unfit for his 
 delectable employ who could not first discard Southey, 
 Wordsworth, or Tennyson, until they had attained the 
 edition of Laureate, and then turn complacently to exhibit 
 good reasons for their perfection ! I should as soon expect 
 compassion to a lamb in the slaughter, or that the saints 
 should be exempt from the perversions of Satan, as 
 imagine that any author could be safe from the powers of 
 censure. However, it would be cowardice to shrink from 
 public opinion on this account ; and, therefore, without 
 undue concern for the issue, I cheerfully offer my reflec- 
 tions to the perusal of such as are candid enough to seek 
 truth with a generous temper. I am persuaded that the 
 essay on the Poetic Customs, &c, may be used with 
 advantage as an ancient history for young scholars, and 
 the verses may offer an agreeable pastime. In committing 
 these several pieces to the public, I shall be glad if I can 
 discover that they afford as much pleasure to my friends 
 in their perusal as they have given me in their composition 
 during the hours of recreation presented in the intervals 
 of an active business life. 
 
 A. G. T. 
 
 Haxby Station, near York. 
 
POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 or 
 
 THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE HEBREWS. 
 
 The author's object in the following pages is to present, in 
 a plain narrative, the position of Poetry and its chief usages 
 from the earliest ages, so far as to exhibit the poetic 
 influence of the ancients, — and more particularly of the 
 Hebrews, Greeks, and Romans, — upon our English taste. 
 Were it consistent with other engagements, he would 
 most gladly pursue the theme through several collateral 
 branches of the human family ; but, for the present, he 
 must be content to confine his attention to those fore- 
 runners and modellers of our own literature. And perhaps 
 to the general reader this will be less intricate, and there- 
 fore the more acceptable course. 
 
 A review of the rise and progress of any art or science 
 offers, perhaps, the most certain means of arriving at its 
 natural character and judging of its specific utility ; and 
 in the case of Poetry, we have the truest index whereby 
 we may observe the progress of civilization. 
 
 B 
 
Z THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 If we would unravel the origin and the fundamentals of 
 Poesy, we must revert to the elements of nature ; we must 
 fathom the caverned depths of the ocean, unpack the 
 foundations of the everlasting hills, dissect the principles 
 of creation, and analyze the First-moving Spirit ! Poesy 
 is but another name for harmony, beauty, and proportion, 
 whether as affecting the ear, the eye, or the intellect, and 
 is, therefore, the essential of pleasure to all degrees of 
 perception. It is the veriest impotency of mind to con- 
 sider Poesy, or Poetry, as existing only in the measured 
 numbers of written versification : this is merely a material 
 manifestation of the inert spiritual principle which we are 
 necessitated to employ as an instrument suited to our mean 
 capacity, in that abject condition of taste to which the 
 human mind has wofully descended. 
 
 The system of the universe is represented as a system 
 of sympathy, harmony, and musical proportions. " The 
 morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God 
 shouted for joy," when the foundations of the earth were 
 laid (Job, xxxviii.) ; and the harmony and beauty of even 
 inanimate nature are frequently represented by the sacred 
 writers as shouting for joy, or singing for gladness. The 
 Psalmist says, " The pastures are clothed with flocks ; the 
 valleys also are covered over with corn ; they shout for 
 joy, they also sing ;" that is to say, they are filled with 
 harmony and agreeable proportions — with beauty and 
 perceptible bliss. 
 
 But, to address ourselves to what may be considered our 
 more legitimate subject — namely,-vocal and written Poetry 
 — we come first to the history of the Jews, as given in the 
 inspired volume ; and the reader will require but a very 
 brief sketch to be enabled to observe what a great amount 
 of Poetry is contained in the Bible, from first to last. The 
 records from the creation to the flood are so very limited, 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. tf 
 
 that we could scarcely anticipate any information on this 
 particular question ; therefore, how great is the proof of 
 the importance in which primitive harmony was held, 
 when we find the fact recorded that Jubal "was the 
 father of all such as handle the harp and organ" (Gen., 
 iv. 21). Jubal was the son of Lamech, the son of Methu- 
 sael, the son of Mehujael, the son of Irad, the son of 
 Enoch, the son of Cain, the son of Adam ; hence our 
 theme holds a very ancient position in the world's history. 
 The original Hebrew word, which is here translated harp 
 and organ, we are told, signifies literally "the beloved 
 instrument" — a name indicative of its possessing qualities 
 highly agreeable to the people who were acquainted with 
 it. By the term father, we are to understand generally the 
 inventor or originator of some qraffc, profession, doctrine, 
 or other object; or the first of some particular class, as 
 Abraham is called the father of the faithful, on account of 
 the remarkable display of his faith in the offering of his 
 son Isaac. Of the particular character or extent of this 
 beloved instrument, the historians and critics pretend not 
 to speak ; only all agree that it was an article of music. 
 
 From the above entire passage it appears that Jubal, 
 who was nearly related to Adam, either invented instru- 
 mental music, or else so far was the improver on all 
 preceding attempts as to create a new era in the perform- 
 ance, and therefore became emphatically styled the father 
 of the art. In like manner we sometimes speak of Chaucer 
 as the father of English Poetry. 
 
 From the same text we may conclude, further, that the 
 antediluvians were in possession of some sort of songs, as 
 without these we can scarcely conceive the use of music. 
 Hence they must have had Poetry of some character, even 
 at that early period ; and, considering the purity and the 
 expressive beauty of their language before the confusion 
 
4 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 of speech, it is not improbable that they possessed finer 
 harmony and greater effect of poetic diction than we 
 usually suppose. This conclusion is justified by the great 
 and beautiful harmony yet remaining in the old Hebrew 
 and its kindred languages, as well as by the fact that the 
 Hebrews, after the flood, used so much poetry and vocal 
 music. Although, for some time after the Deluge, we have 
 no mention made of songs, music, or other harmony, yet 
 that silence must be purely accidental, or subservient to 
 the greater design of the Scripture history ; for when Jacob 
 secretly departed from Laban, his father-in-law, Laban 
 pursued after Jacob, and reproached him for not taking 
 an opportunity to celebrate their separation by feasting ; 
 after which Laban would have sent him " away with mirth 
 and with songs, with tabret and with harp" (Gen., xxxi. 
 27) ; which shows that harmony formed a common part of 
 their festivals and seasons of common merriment, and that 
 it was a matter of regular course among them. 
 
 That songs and music were almost universal amusements 
 with the Jews, we have ample proof and multiplied instances 
 on record. On passing the Red Sea, the Israelites give us a 
 fine example of their acquaintance with music and singing. 
 " Then sang Moses and the children of Israel this song unto 
 the Lord, and spake, saying, I will sing unto the Lord, for 
 he hath triumphed gloriously : the horse and his rider hath 
 he thrown into the sea ;" and so on the inspired song runs 
 through nineteen verses of the fifteenth chapter of Exodus. 
 In this composition we find the most noble of poetic lan- 
 guage, beautiful imagery, and sublime sentiment. And 
 then Miriam, the prophetess, the sister of Aaron, took a 
 timbrel in her hand ; and all the women went out after her 
 with timbrels and with dances, and they sang, apparently, 
 the same song as Moses, either in the whole, after he had 
 finished his performance, or, otherwise, repeated each 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. O 
 
 sentence singly in responses after him. Whence it appears 
 highly probable that this ancient people were not only 
 universally advocates of Poesy and harmony in general, 
 but were practical poets, poetesses, and musicians; that 
 they had their songs set to regular metre and music, and 
 were, nearly all of them, good singers. Although it is not 
 easy for us to discover the metre of this beautiful language, 
 yet we cannot doubt its systematic composition ; otherwise 
 the multitude could not have sung it together. Their 
 beloved instruments of harmony were probably of a rude 
 construction in comparison with ours, but were neverthe- 
 less capable, no doubt, of producing a fine simple expression 
 •of pleasing and majestic sounds, suitable to the high 
 •character of their devotional songs. 
 
 Tho most remarkable characteristic presented in the 
 musical performances of the Israelites is the readiness with 
 which all the people seem to have entered into the songs of 
 praise and rejoicing ; and this aptitude, be it remembered, 
 was immediately after their 400 years' residence under 
 their hard taskmasters, the Egyptians, whose oppressions, 
 one might have expected, would, if possible, drive all music 
 and poetry out of their souls. But not so ; the essence of 
 harmony appears to be inwoven with their very existence. 
 
 In the fifth chapter of the Judges we are presented with 
 another very sublime specimen of Hebrew Poetry, in the 
 song of Deborah and Barak, which, like the preceding, was 
 composed expressly for the occasion of the deliverance of 
 the Israelites from their enemies. It has been asserted 
 that none of the Greek or Latin Poets ever equalled the 
 lofty and natural expressions of this song. 
 
 But the great Poet of the Hebrews was David, who, in 
 reality, was inspired from his infancy. In his ruddy youth 
 we find him employed as the most expert musician in 
 .charming the evil spirit of Saul, by the combined influence 
 
6 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 of his harp and voice. His splendid song of thanksgiving 
 for God's blessings and deliverance from enemies, written 
 in early life, is recorded in the second of Samuel (ch. xxii.). 
 What is remarkable in this song is its being only another 
 version of the eighteenth Psalm. It seems very probable, 
 from the alterations and amendments which appear in the 
 Psalm, that the composition had been of frequent use, and 
 that the copy inserted in the Psalms was the most approved 
 and matured edition. 
 
 The days of King David were, to the Jews particularly, 
 the days of songs, music, and dancing, as we may observe 
 in almost every passage of that famous monarch's life ; and 
 besides the above instances of duplicate copies of their 
 songs, we have, in the first Chronicles (ch. xvi.), a very 
 beautiful hymn, which composes also the 96th and the 
 305th Psalms. 
 
 We hasten to examine the book of Psalms, than which 
 a more splendid collection of sublime Poetry was never 
 made. We derive the word Psalm from the Greek Psallo, 
 which signifies to touch sweetly, and is indicative of the 
 grandly animated performances of united voices and 
 instruments. The book of Psalms is simply a collection of 
 hymns and spiritual songs ; these were written by several 
 hands, but chiefly by David, " the sweet singer," who was 
 also probably the collector of them into one body. The titles 
 of many of the Psalms declare their authors : a few were 
 composed by Moses, one or two by Solomon, and some by 
 others. This collection of divine songs was called by the 
 Hebrews Sephir Tehittim, the Book of Hymns or Praises of 
 the Lord. Many of the hymns were written for particular 
 occasions of Divine Providence ; others are the standing 
 themes of general sentiments, and are altogether, as 
 near as possibly can be, the same in use, character, and 
 arrangement as our religious hymn-books, only infinitely 
 
OF THE AXCIENTS. 7 
 
 superior both in dicticn of language and sublimity of 
 devotion. 
 
 The titles affixed to several of the Psalms render us 
 considerable explanation, both respecting them and the 
 general usage of music. The term JtoeginotJi, in the title 
 of the fourth Psalm, as also in Psalms liv., lv., and lxxvi., 
 signifies stringed instruments, and shows us that these 
 portions of sacred Scripture were' sung to music by the 
 congregation of the Jews. The word Selah, which 
 frequently occurs in the body of the Psalms, has been 
 thought by some to direct a repetition of the preceding 
 part ; but whether it means exactly this or not, is by no 
 means certain ; yet we cannot doubt much that it contained 
 some sort of musical instruction to the performers. 
 
 Nehiloth, prefixed to the fifth Psalm, signifies the organ, 
 and shows that this fine instrument was in religious use 
 in the time of David, and that this Psalm in particular was 
 directed to be sung thereto. In Ps. vi. and xii., Sheminith 
 means the eighth, and shows that these songs were to be 
 accompanied by the eight-stringed harp. The Psalm vii. 
 bears the term Shiggaion, which may be interpreted into 
 varying or changing songs or tunes ; and as this appears 
 to be the personal performance of the sweet-singing King 
 of Israel, we may reasonably suppose that he altered the 
 style of the music, in the different parts, to express with 
 more emphasis the several subjects of the hymn. (See also 
 Hab., iii. 1.) Gittith, in the viii., Ixxxi., and lxxxiv. titles, 
 is taken by some critics for the name of a tune, or song, 
 or instrument that was either invented or much uced 
 at Gaih. Some think it means the ivine-presses, and 
 that the song was to be used in the vintage season. In 
 Psalm ix. Muthlabhen is, in all probability, the name of 
 some tune, or of some musical instrument ; and Haggaion 
 (verse 16) is either a musical term or a call for particular 
 
8 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 attention. Aijeleth ShaJiar (Psalm xxii.) is the hind of the 
 morning, and was, perhaps, the name of an instrument or 
 tune ; or might be a song usually sung in the morning. 
 Jeduthan (Psalms xxxix., lxii., and lxxvii.) was the chief 
 musician, and the leader of those who were chosen to give 
 thanks to the Lord " with trumpets and cymbals for those 
 that should make a sound, and with musical instruments 
 of God" (1 Chron., xvi. 42). Shoshannim (Psalms xlv., lx., 
 Ixix., and Ixxx.) signifies, literally, lilies or roses, and seems 
 here to be a name for either the music or an instrument. 
 So also is Alamoth (Psalm xlvi. ; see 1st Chronicles, xv. 20.) 
 Jonath-elem-rechoJcim (Ps. lvi.) is a dove in the remote woods. 
 Al-taschith (Ps. lvii., lviii., lix., and lxxv.) means destroy 
 him not. Several of these epithets might be affixed, in the 
 first instance, as descriptive of the subjects of the songs ; 
 or might be meant to express the views or conditions of 
 the writer, and thence afterwards become the distinguishing 
 name of the music originally used in those songs, even 
 when applied to other words, as is sometimes done in our 
 music. 
 
 In the title to Psalm Ixxxviii. we have much musical 
 information. Mahalath is the flute ; Leannoth signifies to 
 be sung alternately ; and Maschil, a tune. (See also 
 Psalms liii., lxxiv., and lxxviii.) 
 
 The ciii. and five following Psalms were called Hallel, or 
 Hymns, by the Hebrews, and are said to have been sung 
 by them at the table in the new moon, the paschal, and 
 other feasts, always concluding with Hallelujah. 
 
 In Psalm cxix. we are presented with a valuable curiosity 
 of poetic literature. This splendid composition is divided 
 into as many parts as there were letters in the Hebrew 
 alphabet, and each part is subdivided into eight other 
 portions or verses ; and each of these verses in the original 
 begins with the same letter as that under which it is 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. i) 
 
 ranked ; that is to say, all the eight verses in the division 
 under Aleph begin with a word whose first letter is Alepk, 
 or the Hebrew A ; and so under every other letter through 
 the Hebrew alphabet. The uniform beauty of this piece in 
 the original cannot be equalled, we may fearlessly assert, 
 in any language : it shows much experience and discern- 
 ment in poetic arrangements, with great variety and skill 
 of words. This Psalm has been styled, emphatically, the 
 "Great Alphabet" and is, in all likelihood, the prototype 
 of succeeding acrostic and alliterative Poesy. 
 
 In regard to the metrical composition of the Psalms, as 
 already intimated, nothing is known for certain. Josephus 
 (book vii.) says, "David being freed from wars and dangers, 
 and enjoying for the future a profound peace, composed 
 songs and hymns to God, of several sorts of metre ; some 
 of those which he made were trimeters, and some were 
 pentameters." And yet no one has attempted to define 
 these metres, and probably but few will suppose that even 
 Josephus himself thoroughly understood their nature. 
 Our author, in the same place, describes the Jewish 
 instruments of music. He says, that David " also made 
 instruments of music, and taught the Levites to sing 
 hymns to God, both on that called the Sabbath-day, and 
 on other festivals. Now, the construction of the instru- 
 ments was thus : — The viol was an instrument of ten 
 strings ; it was played upon with a bow. The psaltery 
 had twelve musical notes, and was played upon by the 
 fingers. The cymbals were broad and large instruments, 
 and were made of brass." With so much variety of songs 
 and musical instruments, we cannot doubt that the music 
 of this people was varied and extensive. 
 
 It is, indeed, probable that the Hebrews were unac- 
 quainted with musical notation ; hence their tunes must 
 have been entirely traditional ; but for simple music this 
 
10 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 is no very serious detriment, especially when the habits 
 and disposition of the people are continually working in 
 favour of the art. Josephus says that Moses composed 
 his song at the Red Sea in hexameter verse, although he 
 gives us no clue to the nature of such composition, and 
 perhaps he uses the term in compliance only with the 
 notions of the Greeks, and as the best word within his 
 command for their understanding. Our author nowhere 
 gives any proof of his acquaintance with the old 
 Hebrew metres. The fine poetic song which Moses wrote 
 prior to his death is also termed an hexameter by 
 Josephus. 
 
 Solomon, like his father David, was much devoted to 
 the muses. His ascension to the throne was celebrated by 
 a festival, with dancing, and music, and singing. "He 
 also composed books of odes and songs, a thousand and 
 five." (Jos., book viii.) He made " two hundred thousand 
 trumpets, according to the command of Moses ; also, two 
 hundred thousand garments of fine linen for the singers 
 that were Levites ; and he made musical instruments, 
 and such as were invented for singing of hymns, called 
 Nablse and Cinyrse (psalteries and harps), which were 
 made of electrum (the finest brass), forty thousand." He 
 removed the ark into the temple with music and dancing ; 
 and the people were so delighted with the ceremonies 
 which he instituted at the dedication of the temple, that 
 they returned home, making merry on their journey, and 
 singing hymns to God. The Proverbs, Bcclesiastes, and 
 the Song of Solomon are all well known, and consist 
 almost wholly of Hebrew verse. The texture of these 
 poetical performances is well worthy of study ; but for the 
 present that exercise must be deferred, this reference 
 being made to illustrate simply the poetic propensities of 
 Solomon and of the Jews generally. These compositions 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. II 
 
 are no doubt the books of songs and odes which Josephus 
 says were written by Solomon. 
 
 We see in a few glances that the Jews were devoted to 
 singing and music in an extraordinary degree. It would 
 be more than necessary to scan their customs very 
 minutely : they did not use these arts on particular 
 festivals, concerts, or set occasions only ; but were in the 
 continual and settled habit of making the articles of 
 natural harmony a part of their daily engagements, and, 
 we may say, an actual ingredient of their national existence ; 
 no triumph, no feast, no religious service, or particular 
 occurrence whatsoever, was without its song and its music. 
 They sang in their pilgrimages, at their tables, at the 
 removals of the ark, at the arrival of their friends, at the 
 new moon, at their marriages, and, indeed, on every 
 occasion that could interest their minds or excite their 
 feelings. In almost every part of the Bible we find 
 mention of songs, hymns, or music ; but as this valuable 
 record is in every hand, I will, for brevity, simply refer the 
 reader to the following very particular instances worthy of 
 special notice : — Judges, xi., 34 ; 1 Sam., xviii., 6 ; Isaiah 
 xxiii. 16, &c. And the Apocrypha affords us many other 
 remarkable instances of sacred songs and poetic usages 
 well worthy of our attention. 
 
 The practice of singing in catches, or answers one to 
 another, which the Jews used, is deserving of our remark, 
 as being indicative of their delight, spirit, and proficiency 
 in this art. Besides the instances already referred to, see 
 also Ezra, iii., 11, where "they sang together by course." 
 The answering one another in singing was an old custom 
 with them. "When David was returned from the slaughter 
 of the Philistines, the women came out of all cities of 
 Israel, singing and dancing, to meet King Saul, with 
 tabrets, with joy, and with instruments of music. And 
 
12 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 said, 
 
 the women answered one another as they played, and 
 Saul hath slain his thousands, and David his ten thousands," 
 (1 Sam., xviil) Josephus says it was the wives who sang 
 of Saul, and that the virgins replied for David, which 
 certainly is a very pretty interpretation. 
 
 About a quarter of a century before the Christian era, 
 the Jews were greatly annoyed with the introduction, by 
 Herod, of the theatrical exhibitions of the Romans. He 
 built, at a great cost, a theatre at Jerusalem, and a great, 
 amphitheatre in the plain, wherein he exhibited very 
 splendid shows and games, which were contrary to the 
 Jewish customs, and therefore gave much offence. He 
 introduced wrestlers for prizes, and mixed up naked 
 exercises, music, chariot racing, the combats of wild 
 beasts, and the fighting of condemned criminals, in such 
 profusion that the people were disgusted, and a conspiracy 
 was formed with the intention of assassinating Herod ; his 
 life was saved only by the office of a spy. This same 
 king of the Jews built also a fine theatre and a large 
 amphitheatre at Cesarea by the sea-side, and filled this 
 place also with his pagan exhibitions. And it looks more 
 than probable that the people were, in some degree at 
 least, infected with the vanity of these pagan displays ; 
 for even those Levites who were singers of hymns had the 
 insolence to petition King Agrippa for permission to wear 
 linen garments like the priests ; which favour he granted 
 them, contrary to the strict discipline of their original 
 institutions. And we may gather from several circum- 
 stances, that both poetic and moral degeneracy had now 
 worked themselves into the heart of the Hebrew nation. 
 
 The custom of singing was continued through the 
 gospel dispensation. Our blessed Redeemer's birth was 
 announced to the shepherds by a chorus of angels : and 
 when He and His disciples instituted the Lord's Supper, 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 13 
 
 they partook of bread and wine, "and when they had 
 sung an hymn, they went out into the Mount of Olives." 
 (Mark, xiv.) "At midnight Paul and Silas prayed and 
 sang praises unto God : and the prisoners heard them." 
 (Acts, xvi. 25.) St. John, in his Revelations, says, the 
 four and twenty elders with " every one of them harps '' 
 "sung a new song" (chap, v.); and, again, those that 
 overcame the beast, "having the harps of God," sing 
 "the song of Moses, the servant of God, and the song 
 of the Lamb" (chap. xv.). 
 
 From these and other evidences, we see that Music 
 and Poetry were cherished in the affections of the Jews 
 to the last. They seem to have thought no place happy 
 without the aid of harps and songs. In Josephus's 
 discourse on Hacles, he represents the Jewish belief of 
 the future state of the blessed as being enhanced by the 
 singing of hymns. He tells us that when the just enter 
 Hades, it is believed that they "are guided to the right 
 hand, and are led with hymns, sung by the angels 
 appointed over that place unto a region of light," &c. 
 i ' This place," says he, " we call the " Bosom of Abraham." 
 And again he expresses his opinion that " the number of 
 the righteous will continue, and never fail, together with 
 righteous angels and spirits [of God], and, with his word 
 as a choir of righteous men and women that never grow 
 old, and continue in an incorruptible state, singing hymns 
 to God." 
 
 With such doctrines as these, it is evident with what 
 strong affection the Jews clung to the arts of Poetry and 
 Music : they employed them as their chief means of 
 earthly joy, and set them forth as the leading charms of 
 their desired blessedness in heaven. 
 
14 POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE GREEKS. 
 
 Next after the Poetry and Music of the Jews, we are 
 led to consider these arts in the hands of the Grecians ; 
 and this not only from the geographical proximity of 
 these two nations, but also because that the Greeks are 
 chronologically the next people, in the successions of 
 civilization, who carry the sway through the whole circle 
 of the arts and sciences. The general history of the 
 Greeks, in their primitive ages, like that of most other 
 nations, is cloaked in obscurity and uncertainty ; yet, 
 after all, we are not left in great doubt about the early 
 condition of their Poetry. In addition to the universal 
 facts which usually relate to the songs and other Poetry 
 of all infant nations, we may naturally expect that, in 
 whatever art or accomplishment the Hebrews and Egyp- 
 tians were proficient, the Greeks would not fail to import 
 some portion thereof. The voyages from Egypt and 
 Palestine to Greece were only like that from London 
 to Hamburgh ; and as the prophet Isaiah and others 
 represent the Mediterranean Sea as being thronged with 
 the ships of Tarshish and the "merchants of Zidon, that 
 pass over the sea" (Isaiah, xxiii.), there must have been 
 a constant communication between the Jews, Egyptians, 
 Greeks, and other nations, and a regular interchange 
 of their several luxuries and refinements. Hence, in 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 15 
 
 addition to the Poetry which is natural to all men, and 
 besides what might be obtained from other sources, the 
 land of Greece would probably be rendered melodious by 
 the echoes of the Hebrew muses, of whom we have just 
 seen so much excellence. 
 
 The greater portion of the ancient history of Greece is 
 confessedly fabulous ; the rest greatly exaggerated and 
 mystified ; and, after all this, the highest date to which the 
 historian can ascend is to a few years before the exit of 
 the Israelites from Egypt. According to these fables, about 
 1764 years before Christ, there commenced a great deluge, 
 which continued about 200 years, and destroyed the former 
 inhabitants of Attica. After this, Cecrops arrived from 
 Egypt, and, settling in Attica, was the founder of Athens. 
 "We are told, again, that Jupiter, to punish the sins of a 
 corrupt world, sent a universal flood, which destroyed the 
 whole human race, excepting Deucalion, king of Thessaly 3 
 and Pyrrha, his wife, the only blameless people then 
 living, who were preserved in a small vessel ; and as the 
 waters assuaged, they landed upon Mount Parnassus, the 
 first visible remnant of the former world. These appear 
 so much like other versions of Noah's flood, that we can 
 scarcely doubt the origin of the tradition. Well, in their 
 desperate and solitary condition, we are informed that 
 Deucalion and Pyrrha consulted the oracle of Themis ; 
 and, in obedience to the directions there received, in order 
 to repeople the earth with a more virtuous race of mankind, 
 they both threw stones over their shoulders, when those of 
 Deucalion were transformed into men, and those of Pyrrha 
 into women ! If true, how can we wonder at the hard 
 and stony-heartedness of the human race ? The former 
 part of this wonderful story, relating to the deluge, is 
 probably tarnished truth — the latter, a palpable fiction. 
 
 The earliest history which Plutarch ventures to write is 
 
16 POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 of Theseus, 1228 B.C., and he expressly declares that all 
 beyond this period is prodigy and fiction; and it is doubtful 
 that somewhat of Plutarch's subjects, even of his accredited 
 age, partakes no little of the same dubious character. 
 
 From the earliest established particulars of Grecian 
 history, we learn that this people originally consisted of a 
 few rude and independent tribes, similar to the American 
 Indians, or the aborigines of internal Africa ; and that, 
 like these, they had their several chiefs, their gods many, 
 their songs, and all the institutions of barbaric life ; 
 and that, being of an adventurous and discerning spirit, 
 in process of time they gathered from various parts those 
 materials which ultimately perfected their arts to a 
 wondrous degree. 
 
 The first distinct character we have of the Greeks, after 
 they assumed an organized state, is that of abstemious, 
 harsh, and temperate habits ; implicit submission to 
 rigorous laws ; a bold, concise expression of speech ; a 
 strength of fortitude and a daring of courage not to be 
 intimidated, even by a certain threatening of the most 
 terrible death. These habits were established amongst 
 the Lacedemonians by the austere laws of Lycurgus, and 
 amongst the Athenians by Draco and Solon. The people, 
 more especially of these two kingdoms, were taught rather 
 to die than yield in conflict ; they were forced to eat their 
 meals at a public table, to insure temperance ; and on 
 these, and all other like occasions, they were required to 
 speak briefly and at once to their purpose. Then were 
 their orations made, their Poetry recited, and their public 
 games instituted, wherein were nursed a fiery zeal and 
 enthusiastic rivalry not at first to be easily conceived, 
 but which had the effect of producing the most rapid 
 growth of those arts to which they gave their attention. 
 The above practices and principles may be traced, as 
 
OP THE ANCIENTS. 17 
 
 exerting a very important influence upon all the literature 
 of Greece to her latest ages, and more especially upon her 
 poets and orators. 
 
 Athens was the chief seat of Grecian literature, and yet 
 the severely rigorous Lacedemonians, who detested all 
 luxurious arts, made an honourable exception in favour 
 of Poetry and Eloquence. The great end of this people 
 was war, and cheerful resistance even unto death ; but 
 their love for Poetry and Music is strikingly exemplified 
 in their struggle with the Messenians (A.M. 3319). The 
 Lacedemonians, being driven to a great extremity, were 
 under the necessity of borrowing from the Athenians a 
 general to conduct their armies ; the Athenians sent them 
 one Tyrtasus, a schoolmaster and poet, who was at first a 
 person very unacceptable to the Lacedemonians ; but pre- 
 sently, by his songs and orations, he so stimulated them to 
 military valour, that he ultimately led them on, a conquer- 
 ing army, through their foes, and became so pleasing to the 
 people, that they made him a freeman of their city, Sparta. 
 Plutarch says, that Tyrtasus so inflamed the youth with 
 warlike fury by his Poems, that they readily exposed their 
 lives to the chance of battle. 
 
 Even before Solon's time (A.M. 3380), Poetry and 
 Eloquence had attained to great excellence amongst the 
 Greeks. It was the custom of the seven wise men to 
 meet together frequently, to discuss the best methods for 
 the cultivation of government and the fine arts ; for these 
 subjects were always linked together by the philosophers 
 of that period. Solon, one of the seven sages, has been 
 styled the Father of Eloquence in Athens ; he was likewise 
 so successful a poet, that Plato asserts he might, with 
 application, have disputed the prize with Homer. 
 
 After Solon's death, Pisistratus came into power ; he 
 was the first to establish a public library at Athens, and> 
 
 c 2 
 
18 POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 according to Cicero's opinion, made the Athenians more 
 fully acquainted with Homer's works, which he is supposed 
 to have arranged into their present form, and ordered them 
 to be read, or recited, at their public feasts held in honour 
 of Minerva. 
 
 In the joint reign of Hippias and Hipparchus, the sons of 
 Pisistratus, all sorts of learning received much encourage- 
 ment at Athens. The poets Anacreon, Simonides, and 
 others flourished under the immediate patronage of the 
 court (A.M. 3496) ; and during all the tremendous 
 political struggles and civil contentions which distracted 
 the several stages of Grecian history, the arts of "War, 
 Poetry, and Eloquence went regularly hand in hand with 
 rapid strides. The Poets and moral philosophers were the 
 missionaries of virtue and valour ; the former by their 
 songs, and the latter by their orations, publicly excited 
 the people to the highest pitch of enthusiasm, and the 
 assiduous prosecution of the most desperate exploits. 
 
 In such a state of natural constitution and artistic 
 preparation, this handful of dominion, by its superior 
 knowledge, wisdom, and. spirit, not only erected at home 
 its glorious monuments for the ornament and admiration 
 of all after ages, but in arms could disperse the mighty 
 hosts of even the famous Persian monarchs, Darius and 
 Xerxes. 
 
 By a very slight attention, we may discover that the 
 Greeks were so naturally and essentially poetical and 
 musical, that they made these arts the chief ingredient 
 of their daily business and their public national 
 performances. 
 
 After Leonidas, and his little but heroic band of brave 
 warriors, had all cheerfully sacrificed their lives, in 
 contesting, almost incredibly, against Xerxes, the passage 
 of Thermopylae (A.M. 3524), the Grecians decreed them a 
 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 19 
 
 magnificent monument ; and Simonid.es, one of their chief 
 Poets, was employed to write their epitaph. Simonides, 
 a native of Ceos, was a cultivator of Poetry, and sang 
 the heroism of his countrymen with much beauty and 
 animation. 
 
 When the Athenians (A,M. 3589) equipped a magnificent 
 fleet, under Nicias and Alcibiades, against Syracuse, they 
 completed the ceremony of dismissing it by the sounding 
 of trumpets, offering of solemn prayer, and publicly singing 
 a hymn. After the defeat of this grand armament, the 
 Syracusans detained great numbers of the Athenians 
 prisoners ; but these captives had the singular fortune, 
 we are told, of gaining the favour of their tyrannical 
 masters, by reciting to them the stirring verses of 
 Euripides, through the influence of which they had their 
 liberty granted, and returned home to thank that poet 
 for being the means of their deliverance. This historical 
 incident shows the highly poetical constitution of the 
 Syracusans ; as also the complete skill which the common 
 people, the Athenian soldiers, had in their dramatic 
 authors. The above-named Nicias was at great cost in 
 improving and conducting an annual chorus of music and 
 songs to Delos. 
 
 When Lysander had taken Lampsacus by storm, and 
 defeated the fleet of his enemy (A.M. 3599), he went into 
 the city amidst the triumphal music of flutes, the flourish 
 of trumpets, and the singing of martial songs. Then 
 afterwards proceeding to Athens, he demolished the walls 
 of that city, and burned the Athenian ships in a like 
 display of victorious merriment and dancing to music. 
 On this occasion, also, we are informed of the happy 
 influence of Euripides in serving his countrymen ; for now 
 he had the good fortune to be effectually instrumental in 
 saving Athens from destruction. Lysander had resolved to 
 
20 POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 entirely raze the city ; but at a general feast with his 
 officers, his compassion was gained, and Athens saved, by 
 Phocis, a musician, singing out of Euripides the verses 
 beginning thus : — 
 
 " Unhappy daughter of the great Atrides, 
 Thy lowly habitation I approach." 
 
 As a useful lesson to men, it may be proper to remark 
 that, after this Lysander had subdued all Greece, himself 
 was cast down by his own lusts and ambition. He assumed, 
 so much dignity, that, according to a common weakness of 
 those ages, the people were constrained, through combined 
 fear and selfishness, to dedicate temples and offer sacrifices 
 to him as a god, at the same time singing hymns and odes 
 to his honour. They transferred also the feasts held in 
 honour of Juno to his service, and named them the feasts of 
 Lysander. In this universal flattery and moral declension, 
 the poets and philosophers were also weak enough to join, 
 and, either through fear or bribery, were united in the 
 train of his followers, and amused themselves in gratifying 
 Lysander by singing of his exploits ; but as excess is always 
 sure to defeat itself, the scene was soon changed. He had 
 no better fate than his fellow-mortals, and the latter part 
 of his life was marked with insult, strife, and commotion. 
 
 In that unnatural Asian war, which was carried on 
 between the two brothers, Cyrus and Artaxerxes (A.M. 
 -3603), we learn that the Greeks, who served under the 
 former marched to battle under the thrilling influence of 
 their battle-hymns, on more than one occasion. And this 
 musical band of warriors, after losing then- leaders, showed 
 their wit, wisdom, and the bravery of their sublime prin- 
 ciples, by marching in good order and safe array through 
 the Persian dominion, although themselves were only 
 10,000 in number, and in an enemy's country, far distant 
 from their homes or any safe hold, and where their 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 21 
 
 persecuting foes were almost innumerable ; this has been 
 considered by scholars and military men as a feat of the 
 most superior tactics, in all succeeding ages. It is familiarly 
 termed "the retreat of the ten thousand." 
 
 The Grecians had also a manner of insulting their 
 enemies with derisive music and songs, in order to 
 provoke them precipitately into immediate battle when 
 they showed any reluctance. This was done by Agesilaus, 
 the Spartan general, against the Thebans (A.M. 3610), on 
 the morning following the bloody battle on the plains of 
 Coronsea, in Boeotia. 
 
 About this time happened the fatal prosecution of good 
 old Socrates, who, by his unremitting attacks, both openly 
 and privately, upon the growing vices and luxuries of the 
 Athenians, became odious to the citizens, more especially 
 to the youth ; and as it was impossible for him to avoid 
 being a partizan in public questions, he at last became the 
 victim of a faction, at whose instigation he was made the 
 butt of common ridicule and the public jest. But what 
 rendered Socrates the most obnoxious was his successful 
 opposition to a set of vile teachers, who, under the assumed 
 title of Sophists, pretended to teach everything ; but who, 
 in reality, seeking only their own aggrandizement, entered 
 into the intrigues of ambition, and puffed their pupils with 
 pride and false principles. Socrates publicly confounded 
 the logic of those pretenders, and by that means concen- 
 trated their most determined hatred upon him. Hence 
 arose a conspiracy composed of those Sophists, and many 
 young people of quality, to whom the doctrines of the 
 false teachers were much more inviting than the stern 
 precepts of old Socrates. Yet there was so much strength 
 of truth in the old philosopher, that the lascivious con- 
 spirators dared not to accuse him formally and at once, 
 but set all their energies to work to prepare and determine 
 
22 POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 the public mind in their favour, by bringing him into 
 contempt through their comedians. 
 
 At that time the comic poets regularly exhibited public 
 characters in a ludicrous aspect, by representing any 
 person's weak points for the amusement of their audience. 
 On some occasions they were very useful in restraining 
 vicious men from their errors, through fear of ridicule. 
 It was highly proper for Aristophanes, the comedian, to 
 ridicule the litigious spirit of the Athenians, in his comedy 
 of the "Wasps." Also, at Hyperbolus, a citizen of extreme 
 wickedness and brutish manners, the comic poets con- 
 tinually cast their raillery. This was really a virtuous 
 position of the drama, and it strengthened the dislike of 
 the Athenians to such a degree, that they ultimately 
 banished the wicked object of their disgust from their 
 city ! 
 
 But this very weapon of ridicule, which, in some cases, 
 did so much good, was in other instances equally effective 
 of evil : it discouraged many a modest man from daring 
 to do good, and not unfrequently, through venality or 
 malice, became a destroyer of virtue and merit. A 
 sorrowful instance of this latter effect happened with 
 Socrates ; the enemies of this old man enlisted the talents 
 of Aristophanes, who wrote a comedy, to be performed on 
 the stage, entitled " The Clouds," in which Socrates is 
 represented hanging in a basket above the clouds, and 
 discoursing in the most singular absurdities. These were 
 the commencement of proceedings which grew progressively 
 into a general antipathy, and, after a lapse of some years, 
 ripened into the death of that good old philosopher. 
 
 Some have ascribed the destruction of Socrates entirely 
 to the Poet Aristophanes : but this seems to be a very 
 unjust verdict ; the Poet was no more to blame than his 
 fellow-citizens ; he was merely the echo of public senti- 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 23 
 
 merit, and, in some measure, the tool of the public, who 
 had long marked out the philosopher's fate. 
 
 Socrates is quoted by Cornelius Agrippa as an enemy to 
 Poetry ; but, in the very face of death, he gives the he 
 to such an assertion. After his famous apology to the 
 Athenians, he was confined in prison ; and a little before 
 his fatal dose, he entertained himself by writing a hymn 
 in honour of Apollo and Diana, and by rendering one of 
 iEsop's fables into verse. He knew not the doctrines of 
 revealed religion ; his wisdom was that of simple nature, 
 and yet such as would put many a Christian to the blush. 
 
 Socrates was undoubtedly a decided enemy to the lasci- 
 vious levity of the comedians of his age, and particularly to 
 Aristophanes, who assumed a moral standard diametrically 
 opposed to the Socratic philosophy. On this account it is 
 natural enough to suppose that the Poet retaliated on the 
 philosopher with some really bad feeling ; but there is no 
 just reason to believe that he was a party to the black 
 ultimate designs of the Sophists. It is likely that 
 Aristophanes made sport of Socrates in the same manner, 
 and after the same principle, as of other people ; that is, 
 simply to create merriment for his audience, and fame and 
 profit for himself. Socrates never went to the exhibition 
 of the comedians, except through the constraint of his 
 friends ; but on this occasion, learning that himself was 
 the subject of the performance, he made one of the 
 audience ; and when some stranger inquired who was this 
 Socrates that the play was about, he stood up amidst the 
 company during the whole performance, in order that all 
 might see and know him ; and the people were amazed at 
 his stoic patience and indifference to ridicule. 
 
 On the other hand, Socrates was a great advocate for 
 the tragedies of his contemporaries, and particularly for 
 those of Euripides, which he greatly admired for their 
 
24 POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 moral and philosophical tendency ; indeed, he has not 
 escaped the opinion of having assisted in the composition 
 of those dramas. Euripides was at least the intimate 
 friend of Socrates, and the old philosopher was sure to go 
 to the theatre when any new piece of this Poet was to be 
 performed. Our philosopher studied music, and even 
 learned to play the lyre in his old age. This was con- 
 sidered an accomplishment highly necessary for any man 
 who wished to stand well in Athenian society, and implies , 
 a consequent poetic state of mind. 
 
 It was usual amongst the Grecian states, at the feasts 
 and entertainments, to pass the lyre round from guest to 
 guest, that each might sing to his own musical accompani- 
 ment, and to be unable to perform was esteemed a mark of 
 low breeding. Themistocles, in other respects so famous, 
 was considered deficient in education because he could not 
 sing to the lyre like the other partakers of an entertain- 
 ment ; whereas Epaminondas was greatly praised for his 
 excellent performance on the flute. 
 
 Plato, the disciple of Socrates, was an advocate for good 
 moral Poetry and proper Music, although, like Socrates 
 and many more virtuous scholars, he was opposed to that 
 style, both of Poetry and Music, which the corrupted 
 manners of the Athenians had then introduced on the 
 stage of the comedians : indeed, it is always a misfortune 
 when the Muses are prostituted to the passions of vicious 
 men. 
 
 When the virtuous and exalted Epaminondas was placed 
 at the head of the Theban army against the Lacedemonians, 
 he showed his intimacy with Homer by quoting from that 
 author a verse, in answer to some objections which were 
 urged against his proceedings. In like manner, the 
 Phocians quoted Homer in justification of their ploughing 
 up the sacred ground ; and Solon inserted a spurious line 
 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 25 
 
 into that author, for the purpose of backing his own ideas 
 Whence it appears that this ancient Poet was a standing 
 authority amongst the several Grecian states. 
 
 The Athenians demonstrated their highly Poetic con- 
 stitution in the costly establishment and maintenance of 
 their theatre for the regular exhibition of their dramatic 
 works. They grew enormously extravagant in public 
 amusements, till at last the stage seemed to absorb their 
 whole attention ; and, in order to satiate this appetite, 
 the fund which had been established to support their wars 
 was diverted by them to the pompous display of their 
 drama ; and so determined were they to secure the con- 
 tinuance of this amusement, that they passed a decree to 
 alter the old law respecting this money, whereby they 
 subjected to the punishment of death any one who might 
 ill future propose the restoration of this fund to its 
 original purpose. And we are told that it cost more to 
 represent some of the famous pieces of Sophocles and 
 Euripides than it had done to carry on the war against 
 the barbarians. These circumstances happened from 300 
 to 400 years before the Christian era. 
 
26 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE GREEKS CONTINUED. 
 
 LycurcJus was an Athenian orator of the first rank, and 
 a manager of the public treasury for twelve years. He 
 acquitted himself with great credit, and left his name 
 adorned with the character of honour and virtue ; and 
 amongst the more notable works of this amiable man was 
 his particular patronage of the theatre, which, although it 
 had been carried to great excess, was still, in his opinion, 
 well calculated to polish and cultivate the mind. Under 
 his protecting influence the tragedians were excited to 
 emulation, and by him the statues of iEschylus, Sophocles, 
 aud Euripides were erected in Athens. 
 
 Although Philip of Macedon, father to Alexander the 
 Great, was a creature of sordid ambition, yet he was not 
 void of Musical and Poetic feeling, as he showed after 
 obtaining a victory over the Athenians at Chseronea, 
 when he exultingly turnedl into song the commencement 
 of an oration delivered against him by Demosthenes ; 
 and, in mockery over the misfortune of the vanquished, 
 he sang and beat tune thereto, saying — 
 
 " Demosthenes the Peaian, son of Demosthenes, has said," &c. 
 
 But, as though the Fates and the Muses had conspired 
 against so gross a prostitution of harmony, his own death 
 was distinguished by a much greater mixture of misfortune 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 27 
 
 and Poetry. Before he entered on his greatly-cherished 
 Asiatic expedition against Darius, he celebrated the 
 nuptials of Cleopatra, his daughter, with exceeding great 
 pomp ; and, in order to perform that act with the greatest 
 effect, Neoptolemus, the Poet, wrote purposely for the 
 entertainment a tragedy entitled "Cinyras," wherein 
 Philip was prophetically represented as the conqueror of 
 Asia ; but the infatuated monarch, in the very moment 
 of his highest hope and glorying, suddenly fell a victim 
 to the insulted young Macedonian nobleman, Pausanias ; 
 and Philip's death, in turn, became the subject of 
 triumphal songs throughout Greece, and especially at 
 Athens. 
 
 His son, Alexander the Great, had a liberal education 
 in Poetry, Eloquence, and the fine arts, and was also 
 naturally possessed of much Poetic fire, as his excessive 
 fondness for Homer particularly testifies : he made the 
 characters and sentiments expressed by that Poet his 
 peculiar study. After the Battle of Arbela, some of 
 Alexander's soldiers found among the Persian spoils a. 
 golden box, set with precious stones, in which Darius had 
 kept his fragrant perfumes. This box was appropriated 
 by Alexander for the preservation of a copy of Homer's 
 works, which he had corrected, by Aristotle, his preceptor. 
 This box and his sword were regularly laid under the 
 conqueror's pillow at nights. Hence the editions of 
 Homer which were published from this copy have been 
 denominated the casket editions, or the editions of the box. 
 When Alexander destroyed Thebes, he put about thirty 
 thousand of its inhabitants to death, after they had fallen 
 into his hands : but, even in this bloodthirsty rage, his 
 veneration for Poetry was beautifully manifested in his 
 sparing the descendants of the famous Poet Pindar, whom 
 even the savage warrior considered an author highly 
 
28 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 honourable to the fame of Greece. It is remarkable 
 that similar favour was afterwards obtained by Virgil 
 from his patron conqueror, Augustus ; and to the grateful 
 recollection of this circumstance by the Poet we owe some 
 of the finest passages of his pastorals. 
 
 A paragraph will hardly be misplaced here in taking a 
 side glance at the Music and Poetry of the Persians, of 
 whose practices we catch a nice insight at our present 
 position. They, like the Greeks and Macedonians, seem 
 to have thought harmony an indispensable amusement 
 and luxury. "When Darius made his magnificent martial 
 parade, in his progress to meet Alexander, we have the 
 Persian Magi particularly mentioned, as singing hymns 
 when they marched ; and Parmenio, Alexander's general, 
 found in Damascus three hundred and twenty-nine of 
 Darius's concubines, who were all admirable musicians ! 
 What can we require more to fill up the musical picture 
 of the Persian court and fashionable circles ? That these 
 arts were general amongst the Persians, we may infer from 
 the great parade of spontaneous music and singing which 
 welcomed the victorious Alexander into Babylon ; although 
 he needed no such stimulus as this to his musical excita- 
 bility, as many of his actions declare. On this magnificent 
 occasion the Magi walked in procession, singing hymns ; 
 and the Chaldean and Babylonish soothsayers and musicians 
 sang the praises of the King to their instruments, after the 
 manner of their country. A.M. 3674. 
 
 After this great butcher of mankind had defeated the 
 Scythians, he plundered the Sogdians, another tribe of 
 Northern barbarians ; and having ordered thirty of their 
 most comely young noblemen to be led forth for execution, 
 they began immoderate leaping, dancing, and singing for 
 joy, forasmuch as they were, in their own esteem, greatly 
 honoured in being sent to their forefathers by so mighty a 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 29 
 
 monarch, which they thought the fittest death for a brave 
 man ! They were pardoned, as the phrase is, and they 
 proved themselves the most worthy men, in serving as 
 Alexander's body-guard with uncommon zeal and fidelity. 
 
 The musical mania of Alexander is further exemplified 
 by his setting on fire the palace of Persepolis, while singing 
 and dancing with his attendants round that noble structure ; 
 and when, after the defeat of Darius, he was left to enjoy 
 some respite from warfare, he spent his time in merriments 
 and sensual pleasures, amongst which singing and music 
 were brought to administer their quota of excitement. He 
 had with him the musicians who accompanied him from 
 Greece, through his wars, and, in addition to their enter- 
 tainments, he required the captive women to sing to him 
 after the manner of their respective countries. 
 
 At 'this period also the works of Euripides were in 
 repute ; for, in one of the drunken feasts of Alexander's 
 court, Clitias quoted that Poet in opposition to the King ; 
 he also sang some verses which reflected on his royal 
 master, which, with other insolence, so exasperated 
 Alexander, that he brutally murdered that faithful 
 servant. 
 
 After Alexander's return from the Bast into Babylon, he 
 built a very prodigious and magnificent monument at the 
 funeral of his favourite friend and courtier, Hephasstion, 
 This beautiful edifice was about 195 feet high ; its orna- 
 ments were grandly rich and varied almost beyond the 
 Poet's fancy. But what more particularly belongs to the 
 historical inquiry of the Muses, were the entablatures and 
 the roof whereon were erected a number of syrens, with 
 hollow bodies, in which were placed singers and musicians, 
 whose business was to sing mournful airs and dirges to the 
 memory of the deceased ! 
 
 The latter days of the Macedonians appear to have been 
 
 d 2 
 
30 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 inspired with a more general Poetic disposition than 
 formerly : the iEtolians had at one time made terrible 
 havoc of the Macedonian cities of Dium and Dodona ; 
 and in A.M. 8786, the Macedonians, after taking most 
 signal revenge on the city of Thermae, belonging to the 
 enemy, wrote on its desolate walls this verse — 
 
 " Remember Dium ; Dium sends you this." 
 
 About the year A.M. 8799, the Achaean general, 
 Philopoemen, appeared in the theatre, with a fine band 
 of young warriors, while Pylades, the musician, was 
 singing beautifully to his lyre, out of a piece entitled 
 " The Persians," by Timotheus, a dithyrambic Poet' 
 that part containing the following verse : — 
 
 " The wreath of liberty to me you owe ;" 
 On which occasion the united grandeur of the Music and 
 Poetry so electrified the audience, that all the Greeks, at 
 once recognizing in Philopoemen the verification of the 
 sentiment, clapped their hands, and raised such shouts of 
 joy, that they seemed suddenly to reinherit all the glory 
 of their forefathers. 
 
 The sentiment of the Greeks is also well ascertained 
 in their low opinion of the barbarizing influence which 
 accompanies a want of Poetic cultivation. For instance, 
 the inhabitants of Cynastha, in the Peloponnesus, were a 
 very ferocious and uncivilized people, and the ancients 
 considered these ill manners to be a natural result of the 
 neglect of the study of Music ; whence they must have 
 ascribed to harmony a mighty power in polishing the 
 human mind. They unquestionably regarded Music and 
 Poetry as the most effective means of softening and 
 humanizing the manners of society. They also made 
 Music useful by contributing regularly to the common 
 offices of labour ; the rowers of their galleys, in order to 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 31 
 
 act in concert, struck the musical time with their oars 
 to the singing of a man, or the music of an instrument 
 provided for that especial purpose. And so, wherever we 
 turn, we may observe in all parts of Greece, and in all the 
 grades of her society, the mighty inbred power and the 
 regulating influence of Music and Poetry. 
 
 The chief item in the Grecian festivals was their 
 choruses of combined singing, music, and dancing, in 
 which they took great delight ; and they used much 
 emulation to become proficient therein. In those 
 performances, their best Poets were employed. From 
 this practice arose their Tragedies and other theatrical 
 compositions, as well as the Drama of succeeding ages. 
 It is recorded that the united effect of the Poetry and 
 Music of their hymns was often powerful enough to melt 
 the multitude into tears. This shows the high state of re- 
 finement to which the public mind of Greece had attained. 
 But I must retain a paper on the rise and culture of the 
 Greek drama and festivals for a separate article. 
 
 With a public composed of such Musical and Poetical 
 materials as existed in this classic land, it is by no means 
 wonderful that she should, according to her own peculiar 
 idiom, be the favourite retreat of the Muses, and that her 
 Poets should rise up pre-eminent above all others ! Never 
 had any class of authors so many advantages at their 
 service for moving the public mind as had the Grecian 
 Poets. The taste of the people was refined, and awakened 
 to the appreciation of every beauty in nature and art ; 
 their language had been polished, and reduced to a fixed 
 degree of smoothness, purity, and Musical excellence 
 seldom found in any other nation ; and their mythological 
 religion was to them the very essence of animation and 
 energy. All natural objects — all abstract virtues, actions, 
 and characters — and, indeed, every member of the 
 
32 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 universe, was governed or personated, in their ideas, by 
 some of their thirty thousand gods and heroes ! Indeed, 
 all nature was in their hands as a mighty engine of stirring 
 intelligence, and all inanimate objects with them teemed 
 with living interest. Hence the Poet had for every subject 
 a sublime personage, and for every occasion some super- 
 human machinery to enliven and invigorate his theme ; 
 and the mind became consecrated to lofty sentiments, 
 under this habitual impression of the constant presence, 
 agency, and companionship of the deities. The thunder- 
 bolt and the lurid lightning were driven immediately by 
 Jupiter ; each wave of the sea was held in Neptune's ample 
 palm ; beauty and love were at the command of Venus, 
 and her witching boy, the dimpled Cupid ! Mars was the 
 soldier's personal guardian and director; Apollo had the 
 management of the sun ; Vulcan, of vulgar or material 
 fire ; Vesta, of refined or celestial fire ; Ceres, of the corn- 
 fields ; Atlas, of the heavens ; and so on, through every 
 object in the universe, the Poet might wander in company 
 with one or other of those divinities, who had each a 
 peculiar and distinct sphere of action. 
 
 There is a soul-inspiring genius in the whole texture 
 and material of Creek Poesy, in the melody of its language 
 and in the metaphysical use of attributes as personages, 
 which, together, give to Grecian authors an irresistible 
 charm, and a natural elevation of character scarcely to be 
 anticipated in any other class of writers. 
 
 Yet we not only deceive ourselves, but expose our 
 ignorance, if we suppose that all the mythological beings 
 mentioned in ancient classics were really objects of 
 sincere belief and adoration, especially with the writers 
 and other intelligent men of remote ages. The Greeks 
 spoke of mental emotions and the qualities of objects as of 
 real beings. For instance, when Alexander was on the 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 33 
 
 point of engaging against the multitudes of Darius, he 
 offered sacrifices to Fear. Yet we cannot consider this as 
 any other than an act of policy, calculated to impose on 
 the minds of the soldiers, and, through their credulity, to 
 fortify their courage for the coming conflict. Precisely on 
 the same principle, when the battle was at the hottest, as 
 Alexander had pre-arranged, Aristander, his soothsayer, 
 advanced through the troops, and, dressed in white, with a 
 laurel in his outstretched hands, cried out that he saw 
 an eagle hovering over the head of Alexander ; the troops 
 believed the fraud, thought that themselves discovered 
 that sign of victory in the air, and rushed forward with 
 such renewed fury and irresistibility as quickly defeated 
 the almost innumerable army of the Persians. It was a 
 very common thing with Alexander thus to impose on the 
 devotedness of his soldiers, who readily believed whatever 
 he asserted. He frequently had pretended miracles and 
 false auguries performed by his express orders ; he used 
 very summary work with priests and priestesses ; he took 
 a long, dangerous journey, and exposed his army to 
 imminent peril in the Libyan desert, in order to have 
 himself declared the son of the god Jupiter Hammon, 
 whose priests he had suborned to perform the affiliation. 
 Callisthenes, a very honourable man, suffered death for 
 merely speaking against the propriety of paying worship 
 to the King, while he was alive. This infatuated prince 
 boasted that he was not only the son of a god, but 
 could also make gods, as, in fact, he caused his favourite 
 Hephsestion to be reckoned a god, when he built the very 
 magnificent temple in Babylon for his worship ! 
 
 But can we conceive that Alexander was so stupid as to 
 believe in the reality of these divinities ? Most certainly 
 not ! Neither did many of those around him. He 
 assuredly used these ceremonies simply as time-serving 
 
34 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 means for promoting his ambition, and fortifying his glory 
 in the eyes of men. 
 
 On the subject of this digression a considerable volume 
 might very easily be compiled, tending to show that these 
 idol divinities were very often used as no more than 
 national ceremonies and customary modes of festivities, 
 without any faith in the celestial perfections of the 
 honoured deity. The names of supposed personages, or 
 departed heroes, were also used as distinctive appellations 
 for set feasts, holidays, and terms of merry-making, in 
 which even the vulgar saw none other object than a fixed 
 season for mirth and public sport. And even Christian 
 England has not entirely discarded the principle, for 
 several of our modern sports and feasts arise from a similar 
 source ; and many an infidel, both in theory and practice, 
 and multitudes who care not an iota for the object of 
 adoration, still hold with us a right merry Christmas, 
 simply because that is a period set apart for a customary 
 feast held under that distinctive name. And to our own 
 English propensity of personification we owe our national 
 divinity, Britannia ; the ideal forms of Time and Death ; 
 and our adopted guardian, Neptune, who has become nearly 
 as naturalized with us as he was originally with the Greeks. 
 
 There are multitudes of proofs scattered up and down 
 history, tending to show that the Kings, Priests, Philoso- 
 phers, Poets, and Orators of antiquity were by no means 
 deeply-rooted in their faith of the mythological personages, 
 especially of the demi-gods, heroes, and the local tutelar 
 deities. Perhaps these better-informed men were the 
 worshippers of their "UNKNOWN GOD," whom they 
 read and traced through all creation ; but they were, no 
 doubt, willing, and even studious, to awe the populace, 
 and regulate their public conduct, by the influence of 
 those religious pretensions which they found to be of 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 35 
 
 infinite service in establishing and maintaining the forms 
 of successful government. The common people were easily 
 persuaded, in their blindness of the true God, to render 
 devotion to the memory of those departed Heroes, 
 Monarchs, and Philanthropists to whom they felt many 
 obligations for possessions, privileges, and institutions 
 obtained by their instrumentality. Men who feel their 
 frailty naturally revere that which is evidently superior to 
 themselves, and, in ignorance of the Almighty, always 
 venerate the names of the great as tutelar deities, or as 
 the gods or friends of the particular families, cities, or 
 nations for whose benefit their lives were spent. But the 
 loftier-minded portion of mankind could never firmly 
 receive those as gods, in the legitimate sense of the word ; 
 such gods were generally used as a convenience, in the 
 absence and ignorance of a better system. 
 
 Socrates and his disciples were clearly convinced of the 
 inutility of the common gods. The prosecution of this 
 philosopher for impiety shows that he had slighted at 
 least some of the Athenian divinities, even though, as an 
 active politician and citizen, he had studiously practised 
 the formalities and customary observances of his city, and, 
 probably for his safety and other political motives, chose 
 to conform to the public taste, so far as was necessary for 
 maintaining that influence which he desired in the com- 
 monwealth. Without some such sort of dissimulation it 
 was impossible for any one to gain credit, or even maintain 
 his existence, amongst that fiery and precipitate people, 
 by whom not a few lives were taken for digressing from the 
 common and approved modes of public opinion. Any man 
 of perception could easily see how unsafe it was to weaken 
 in the smallest degree any of those tenets which served to 
 inspire a feeling of awe or subordination in so obstreperous 
 and hard-to-be-governed a city as Athens. 
 
36 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 Even that moral champion, St. Paul, the stoutest of 
 Christians, used a similar obliquity of approach to the mind 
 of the Athenians, when, standing " in the midst of Mars 
 hill," he grafted his new doctrine upon their old opinion, 
 and declared unto them their own God, whom they ignorantly 
 worshipped ; and even condescended to quote their own Poet 
 in confirmation of his assertions. This is a noble instance 
 of adaptation to the opinions and arguments of an auditory, 
 and far more prudent, both in regard to personal safety and 
 doctrinal success, than that system of rigid browbeating 
 and creed-stuffing which some indiscreet teachers adopt. 
 
 According to this view of the case, we ought not, surely, 
 to censure the Poets for their gods many. They certainly 
 did not invent idolatry, and although they used the names, 
 as it were, of specific persons, in the place of virtues and 
 essences, that is neither their fault, nor, perhaps, their 
 opinion of truth and philosophy. The facts look as though 
 the first names of favourite objects had, through men's par- 
 tiality to their virtues, naturally and progressively grown into 
 metaphorical beings. The commonest mode of speech, when 
 applied to qualities which we admire, has this tendency of 
 rising into personification. The Holy Scriptures abound 
 with this metaphorical mode of expression. It was the 
 idiom of speech used by the commonest people in the 
 Eastern nations, and it would have been most ridiculous 
 for the Poets to tame down their diction beneath the 
 measure of the meanest classes of society. Nay, the Poets 
 have had in all ages a liberal license conceded to them 
 for the adoption of such beauties as could be fairly brought 
 within the scope of their theme. For these reasons it has 
 been thought one of the greatest beauties in Homer for 
 him to express the effeminate love-seeking debauchery of 
 the Asiatics under the title of Venus, and their brutish 
 wars in the person of Mars; whilst with the Greeks he 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 37 
 
 sets forth Juno as the representative of grave conjugal 
 affection ; Pallas, as the united energy of scientific war, 
 valour, and reason. In the same train we find Mercury 
 merely stauds for eloquence, and Jupiter means only wise 
 policy; and so with many other supposed deities, who, 
 with this explication, dissolve into beautiful sentimental 
 figures of speech. 
 
 Neither is this view an invention to extricate the wisdom 
 of the ancient Poets from the abyss of idolatry : there can 
 be no dispute of this metaphorical mode of expression 
 being universal throughout the East, and it is only by the 
 ignorance and stupidity of later ages that the classical 
 idiom has ever been read in a literal sense ; and all our 
 best English Poets stand chargeable with the creative 
 prostitution of genius nearly in the same degree as the 
 Greeks have been ; take, for instance, Milton's allegorical 
 divinity in "Paradise Lost," beginning at verse 648, 
 book ii. : — 
 
 " Before the gates there sat," &c. 
 
 Then the Poet goes on to represent Sin, Death, and 
 other subjects as real persons or actual beings of very 
 hideous forms ; and these he sets forth as breeding with 
 each other in a manner similar to the heathen mythology ; 
 yet no good Christian can, on this single account, excom- 
 municate Milton on the charge of heterodoxy, for his 
 system is built on the foundation of St. James, chapter i., 
 verse 15, " When lust hath conceived," &c. 
 
 So also our learned Butler personifies the conflicting 
 doctrines which disturbed this country during the 
 Reformation and the Commonwealth ; yet, whoever reads 
 the Poem through, would rather laugh at knight Sir 
 Hudibras and the noble 'Squire, than impeach the 
 orthodoxy of the author. 
 
 But it is idle work to gather up examples of this nature ; 
 
 E 
 
38 POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 for even the names and virtues of things were, in many 
 cases, originally one, and words are nothing more than a 
 convenient substitution for objects, and their incidents, 
 which could not otherwise be easily represented in our 
 mutual communications. These considerations seem highly 
 necessary to the due appreciation of the figurative lan- 
 guage of all Poets, and especially of the Hebrew and 
 the Greek. 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 39 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE EGYPTIANS. 
 
 A few observations on Egypt will not be out of order, 
 since she is so intimately interwoven with the history of 
 the ancient nations. 
 
 In the Egyptians, the spirit of Poetry was less manifest 
 than in either the Jews or the Greeks ; but that they were 
 possessed of considerable Poetic feeling is quite certain" 
 Although unexpressed in verse or metre, the whole 
 Egyptian system of religious mysteries, and the stupendous 
 works of art connected therewith, were but so many 
 expressions of a vis poetica which stirred within thenu 
 in unison with universal harmony. The spirit of the 
 Egyptians was uttered in a peculiarly subdued and 
 symbolical form : first, because that the art of writing 
 was not common amongst them ; and, secondly, because 
 the arts and sciences were confided to the care and 
 cultivation of the Priests. These two circumstances kept 
 down the enthusiasm of the people, and restrained the 
 speculative and adventurous propensities of the nation. 
 
 From the early proficiency in the arts of Poetry and 
 Music, already seen, with the Hebrews, it would appear 
 that they must have practised singing even in their bondage 
 under the Egyptians, and that, therefore, the principles of 
 metre and melody must have been, even at that early 
 period, familiar to this latter people. 
 
40 POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 The great contribution, too, which Egypt made towards 
 the establishment of the arts and sciences in Greece, is a 
 strong exemplification of Egyptian knowledge and practices 
 from the earliest times. Before Greece had arisen from 
 barbarity, or ever the Israelites had waded the Jordan, 
 Egypt was the learned country, the classic land, to which 
 the aspiring student then travelled in quest of information,, 
 the same as in later days he journeyed into Italy or Greece? 
 In this manner did Lycurgus, Solon, Pythagoras, Plato 
 and many others of the most famous Grecian Politicians, 
 Philosophers, and Poets glean up their tenets in Egypt, 
 and transplant them to the more prolific region of Attica 
 where, under the cultivation of an active genius and 
 national freedom, they have produced such glorious fruits. 
 
 But the slow, dull, and enervating principles of the 
 government of Egypt blunted the contemplative and 
 glowing imagination which is natural to man, so that she 
 has not been marked by great literary progress. Yet in 
 the latter periods of this nation, under the Grecian 
 influence of the Ptolemies, she added somewhat to the 
 general stock of universal art and science, and, in a 
 measure, seemed to avenge herself on former restraints 
 by a prodigious and extravagant show of this particular 
 characteristic. The literary, and especially the Poetic, 
 spirit of the people burst forth amazingly at this time ; as 
 proofs whereof, we may witness especially the Alexandrian 
 Library and Academy, and the Egyptian festivals. 
 
 Ptolemy Soter founded the above academy for the study 
 and cultivation of the sciences, in a similar manner to that 
 adopted by the Royal Academies of London and Paris. 
 He gave a large library to this institution, which, at the 
 death of Ptolemy Philadelphus, his son, amounted to 
 ] 00,000 volumes ; and the succeeding Princes increased 
 the number to 700,000. The means used for obtaining 
 
OP THE ANCIENTS. 41 
 
 these works were both singular and oppressive. One plan 
 adopted was to borrow, or get hold of by any means, all 
 the books that could be come at ; these were forwarded to 
 the Alexandrian literary institutions, and, being all in 
 manuscript at that period, were there neatly copied by 
 persons employed for that purpose, when the originals were 
 deposited in the library, and the copies presented to the 
 first owners thereof. 
 
 Ptolemy Euergetes is particularly mentioned as having 
 borrowed from Athens the Tragedies of Sophocles, Euripides, 
 and iEschylus, which he put into this library, and returned 
 the Athenians beautiful copies of these authors, together 
 with 15,000 crowns of money for the liberty he had taken 
 of forcing the literary treasure ! The bounty was hand- 
 some enough, but the proceeding too arbitrary to be 
 reconciled to the virtuous temper of a truly liberal genius. 
 
 This magnificent library was deposited in two separate 
 places — the Burchion and the Serapian ; the former, with 
 its 400,000 volumes, was burned during Cassar's wars upon 
 Egypt ; the remaining library of 300,000 volumes, in the 
 Serapion, was increased by Cleopatra with 200,000 other 
 books, given her by Antony, who had taken them from 
 the library at Pergamos. By this and other additions the 
 famous Alexandrian Libraiy reached nearly its former 
 number of volumes ; but it perished entirely under the 
 ignorance and bigotry of the Saracens, who sacked 
 Alexandria, A.D. 642, during their progress through the 
 Roman Empire. The books were used by them for a 
 considerable time as fuel for cooking their food and 
 warming their baths. This destruction is a sad reflection 
 for the scholar, who was thereby deprived of many original 
 classics whereof not even a copy remains. We have but 
 little occasion to praise those bibliothecal cormorants, who 
 glutted their ambitious literary appetites simply to feed 
 
 e 2 
 
42 POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 the flames with the brightest gems of the human mind. 
 Had those books continued to be scattered abroad in 
 the world, in the common way of scholastic business 
 it is probable that most of them would have escaped 
 destruction. How thankful should we be for the multi- 
 plying art of printing, which laughs at the annihilating 
 prowess of the flame, and mocks the malice of ignorant 
 destroyers ! 
 
 The academy at Alexandria continued to supply the 
 world with philosophers, and the church with learned 
 fathers and doctors, for ages, amongst whom were Origen, 
 Clemens Alexandrinus, Ammonius, Anatolius, Athanasius, 
 and many more. 
 
 In Poetry, the object of our pursuit, although Egypt 
 produced but few writers, yet the people, when encouraged, 
 were magnificently extravagant. The solemn festival and 
 procession celebrated on the inauguration of Ptolemy 
 Philadelphus is almost without parallel. Those who have 
 not read the full account of this august ceremony can 
 scarcely form any idea of its splendour ; yet we can here 
 admit simply those portions which more especially belong 
 to the Muses. One band in the public procession con- 
 sisted of comedians, musicians, dancers, and the like, 
 headed by Philiscus, the Priest and Poet of Bacchus. 
 Another band contained a great many satyric, comic, and 
 tragic masks, borrowed, no doubt, from theatrical repre- 
 sentations. In a wine-press, placed on a car and drawn 
 by 300 men, six satyrs trod grapes to the music of the 
 flute, and sang such airs as agreed with the times of their 
 motion ; streams of wine flowed from the chariot during 
 the whole procession. This Singing and Music was used 
 like that to which the Grecian seamen beat time with 
 their oars. A similar usage of Singing was formerly 
 employed by the Venetian gondoliers, or boatmen, who 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 43 
 
 sang, from Tasso, alternate strains, answering to one 
 another. But now 
 
 " In Venice Tasso's echoes are no more, 
 And silent rows the songless gondolier." 
 
 See some interesting notes in " Childe Harold." I know 
 of no parallel in English, except it he of half a dozen 
 satirical fellows, who, one day, with a rope over their 
 shoulders, hauled a keel up a canal, singing all the while, 
 " Britons never shall be slaves !" 
 
 Another band in the above Alexandi'ian procession con- 
 sisted of a chorus of 600 men, of whom 300 played on 
 gilded harps, and wore golden crowns. 
 
 It was the same Philadelphus who caused the Holy 
 Scriptures to be translated into the Greek language by 
 72 learned elders, six from each tribe of the Jews. This 
 version is called the Septuagint, and would work a 
 considerable degree of its sacred Poetic spirit into the 
 mind of the Egyptians. 
 
 Egypt, in her latter ages, recovered, with full interest, 
 all she had originally lent to Greece in the arts, sciences, 
 and Poetical ornaments of life. Take what may, with 
 some propriety, be termed the closing scenes of Egypt's 
 artistic magnificence. Witness Cleopatra's splendid voyage 
 to confer with Antony at Tarsus ; the stern of her ship 
 was blazing with gold ; its sails were purple, and the oars 
 were richly inlaid with silver. On the deck was raised a 
 pavilion of gold cloth, under which, robed as a Venus, 
 appeared Cleopatra, surrounded with beautiful virgins, 
 some of whom represented the Nereiads, and others the 
 Graces. And, fully intent on the due effect of the soft 
 and bewitching, she discarded the music of trumpets and 
 other high-sounding instruments, so generally used on 
 such occasions, and, instead thereof, were heard the 
 enchanting undulations and mixed harmony of flutes, 
 
44 POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 hautboys, harps, and other such articles warbling the 
 softest and sweetest airs, in time to the seamen's oars, 
 whose gentle and steady movements united to render the 
 whole charmingly agreeable. On the deck of the vessel 
 were burning perfumes, which emitted sweet odours to a 
 great distance along the river, whose banks were covered 
 with an infinite multitude of people, among whom it was 
 reported that the goddess Venus had come, in masquerade, 
 to visit Bacchus for the benefit of Asia ! 
 
 The flute appears to have been a favourite instrument 
 with the Egyptians. We find King Ptolemy Auletes, the 
 illegitimate son of Lathyrus, who ascended the throne 
 65 years B.C., valued himself much for his excellent 
 performance thereon ; he was on that account surnamed 
 Auletes, which means the player upon the flute. He 
 disputed the prize with Music in the public games. "We 
 get other glimpses of the Musical customs of Egypt at 
 this period, in her connection with the Romans. 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 45 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE ROMANS. 
 
 The historical obscurity which usually attaches to the 
 origiu of nations, attends with a dash of the marvellous 
 and heroic upon the birth of famous Rome. We are told 
 that iEneas, son of Venus and Anchises, on the destruction 
 of Troy (A.M. 2824), escaped into Italy, and, through 
 marrying Lavinia, the daughter of Latinus, the King of 
 the Latins, became possessed of his kingdom. In the 
 progeny of iEneas and Lavinia issued a succession of 
 Kings for nearly four hundred years, of whom Numitor, 
 the last King of Alba, was the fifteenth, and he inherited 
 the throne through his father's will ; but his brother 
 Amulius, to whom was left the ancient treasures which 
 descended from Troy, found in his wealth the means of 
 usurping the kingdom to himself. In order to secure this 
 ill-gotten booty to his undisturbed possession, Amulius 
 slew the sons of his brother, and devoted their only sister, 
 Rhea Silvia, to the perpetual celibacy of a Vestal nun. 
 By this conduct he thought to deprive his brother Numitor 
 of posterity, whose claims might have been troublesome to 
 his peace and security. But, in spite of this cruel artifice, 
 Rhea Silvia produced the twins Romulus and Remus, who, 
 having been cast into the river Tiber for their destruction, 
 by the directions of the barbarous King, were rescued and 
 
46 POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 secretly nursed by the wife of Faustulus, one of Amulius's 
 herdsmen. 
 
 These youths, of course, were reared to the shepherd's 
 life, and, after the manners of their day and country, often 
 engaged in plunder and petty warfare, until at last they 
 suddenly dethroned Amulius, and restored the kingdom to 
 their grandfather Numitor, whereof they left him in quiet 
 possession, and agreed between themselves to build a new 
 city upon those hills over which they had rambled from 
 their infancy. But a quarrel ensued ; Remus was killed 
 by his brother, and Romulus thus became the lone founder 
 of the city of Rome, so named after this youthful hero, 
 then but eighteen years of age, A.M. 3252. In order to 
 people this rude city, then certainly not worthy the name, 
 it was thrown open as an asylum for banditti, fugitives, 
 and marauders of any description, who were freely invited 
 there to take up an abode ; and, to the astonishment of 
 mankind, this motley multitude soon brought themselves 
 into a vigorous compact, which ultimately grew as a giant 
 amongst the nations. Eutropius asserts that we cannot 
 find any nation less in its origin, or greater in its progress. 
 
 Although Romulus, the founder of Rome, and his twin 
 brother Remus, are said to have been educated privately 
 by Faustulus, the herdsman, and further instructed at 
 Gabii after the Greek manner, yet it is doubtful, consider- 
 ing the habits of their youth, and the early age at which 
 they commenced their city, that their education was but 
 a trifling affair. It is supposed that Romulus learned 
 something of the Greek language, and introduced pure 
 Greek words, unaltered, amongst the Latin : he probably 
 knew nothing about varying their forms to suit the idiom 
 of different tongues. 
 
 Yet, amidst this obscure barbarity, we find Poetry 
 breathing her exhilarating influence through the medley 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 47 
 
 multitude. In that model of the future triumphal entries 
 of Rome, after the defeat of Acron, the victorious Romulus, 
 in order to strike the people with joy and pomp, made a 
 grand procession, singing songs of triumph, which so 
 delighted his subjects, that they received him with ad- 
 miration and great acclamations. The songs of Romulus 
 were acceptable to the innate harmony of the people ; but 
 it is remarkable that, both on this occasion, and also when 
 Numa arrived amongst them as their King, they expressed 
 their pleasure by shouts and acclamations, whence it appears 
 that the Romans were not yet, as a body, prepared for 
 collective public singing, as were the Grecians. Indeed, 
 the very confusion which must necessarily have attended 
 such a mixture as composed the Roman constitution, 
 would not only prevent any general performance of national 
 songs, but also greatly impede individual progress in the 
 harmonious arts. 
 
 Romish character during the thirty-seven years' reign of 
 Romulus is that of extreme rudeness ; we look in vain for 
 any degree of intellectual polish or literary refinement ; and 
 the only virtues manifested in the inhabitants of this new 
 nation are those of the rougher class — boldness, resolution, 
 obedience to military commanders, and the like. It were 
 perfectly impossible for such a promiscuous set of low 
 adventurers to accomplish anything in classic, or, indeed, 
 even in common literature. The only work performed 
 during this period was that of establishing and modelling 
 their political existence. Yet we shall do well to observe, 
 as we go along, the effects of the one marked characteristic 
 which, as observed above, emanated from this original 
 condition of the public mind. That fierce and determined 
 conduct, which belonged to these first Romans, grew with 
 their growth, and cast a distinctive trait over every object 
 connected with the future history of their afterwards 
 
48 POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 mighty nation. Their language, when once fully moulded 
 and fixed, became one of remarkable vigour and stern 
 energy ; their laws and institutions were of the same cast, 
 while even the Poetry and entire literature of their classic 
 period were affected in a great degree by the same cause- 
 And from this source arose most of those distinctive 
 nationalities which we term Roman. 
 
 After an interregnum of one year, during which the 
 senators held the supreme command, Numa Pompilius 
 was invited to sway the regal power, which he ultimately 
 accepted (U.C. 38). This King effected an entire revolu- 
 tion in the national manners and feelings ; he cultivated 
 all the milder graces with a devotion seldom, if ever 
 surpassed by any other Prince. Upon the robust virtues 
 of the former reign he successfully engrafted the enthu- 
 siasm of superstitious religiou, and thereby completed 
 that national character which was destined to become 
 so mighty. On his accession to the kingly office, he 
 introduced many refinements amongst his subjects, and? 
 by combining carefully into one the religious ceremonies 
 and the acts of the government, he restrained the savage 
 propensities of the people, and bound them down to good 
 discipline and improved moral conduct. In order to 
 interest and secure their better feelings, he established 
 several new religious rites and ceremonies, commingled 
 with dancing and singing : the priests, called Salii, carried 
 sacred targets through the city, performing, at the same 
 time, a rapid dance and singing songs. 
 
 In order to ingraft these articles of heathen civilization 
 more firmly upon the affections of his citizens, and to 
 instil into them a reverence for the patrons of the arts 
 Numa pretended that he had been taught his new 
 institutions by the nymph Bgeria and the Muses, and 
 that he was commanded to dedicate to those Muses the 
 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 4t) 
 
 meadows where he had been used to converse with 
 them. 
 
 In Numas's reign, which extended to forty-three years, 
 the Musicians had become sufficiently numerous in his 
 young kingdom to be constituted into a distinct body or 
 company, with its own peculiar court and ceremonies 
 under the especial encouragement of their sovereign. 
 
 By the address and arts of Numa, the savage disposition 
 of the Romans was softened down ; their manners were, in 
 some promising degree, polished ; and the ground-work 
 of their future fame was laid. Without such culture the 
 value of their arms could never have been properly directed, 
 nor their victories duly improved. 
 
 The literary efforts of this reign consisted mainly in the 
 twelve Latin and twelve Greek books of Numa's ceremonies, 
 which he ordered to be buried in a stone coffin, alongside 
 of himself, and which, after a period of 400 years, were 
 exhumed, when the senate, from pretended veneration and 
 respect, caused them to be burned in order to preserve 
 the secrecy of then- contents ; but the true motive for this 
 deed is supposed to be that of hiding the childish super- 
 stition which these books contained, lest they might be 
 productive of infidelity in the public mind, and cause 
 troublesome objections to the superstructure which had 
 been built thereon. 
 
 The reigns of Tullus Hostilius and Ancus Martius, the 
 third and fourth Kings of Rome, were mostly occupied with 
 war. Then Priscus Tarquinius, the fifth King, built a 
 circus — a large circular building, with rows of seats, each 
 one higher than the other — on purpose for the people to 
 enjoy the diversion of public games. He instituted the 
 Roman games called Ludi Romani ; also named Magni, 
 in honour of Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva. These per- 
 formances consisted of much singing, music, dancing, 
 
50 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 wrestling, and other such like popular acts of merri- 
 ment. At this period the Romans had then' simple 
 songs for private entertainments and their religious 
 festivals, and began to form a sort of spontaneous 
 bantering comedy. They also used short heroic Poems 
 expressive of their sentiments, on the lives of their heroes, 
 their rape and strife with the Sabines, their foreign wars, 
 internal convulsions and domestic events, together with 
 such other themes as related to the facts or traditions of 
 their own nation. These old traditional Poems have been 
 supposed to constitute the spirit of Livy's narrative ; 
 but, Hke the native songs of all other primitive people, 
 they were extremely simple and unpolished, mostly 
 written in an irregular verse called Saturnalian, and very 
 far removed from that precise and regular style by which 
 they were supplanted on the introduction of Grecian arts 
 into Rome. 
 
 The seventh and last King of Rome, Lucius Tarquinius, 
 sumamed the proud, usurped the crown and proved an 
 indecent tyrant. By this time architecture had made 
 great progress, as we find in the magnificent building 
 named the Capitol, which, in this reign, occupied the 
 people four years in erecting, upon the foundations laid 
 by Tarquin the Greek, their fifth king, who had introduced 
 many Grecian refinements. It is worthy a passing remark 
 that, in the word Capitol, we have an example of that 
 compounding of words which is not only common, but 
 really necessary, in the forming and expanding of languages 
 in young states. When digging the foundations for this 
 large edifice, the workmen, as the tale is told, exhumed 
 the head of a man named Tolus, which, after being buried 
 many years, bled as fresh as though it had been newly 
 slain ; hence Caput, the Latin word for head, and Tolus, 
 the man's name, became the roots of the new word Capitol. 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 51 
 
 During the 243 years of Roman history, which includes 
 the period of her seven Kings, we have nothing presented 
 to which we can apply the general terms of arts, sciences, 
 or literature, excepting that small matter which we observe 
 in the somewhat improved habits and manners of the 
 citizens ; or, to speak more properly, we find nothing as 
 yet amongst the Romans in the way of scholastic progress. 
 In the horrid tactics of war they had become more regular 
 and systematic. In this lay their chief pre-eminence, and 
 in close combination herewith we see their religious super- 
 stitions exerting a mighty national influence ; not only 
 nursing and establishing their martial intrepidity, on the 
 one hand, but, on the other, producing a grand display of 
 architectural effort, which, being founded on the sublime 
 model of the Greeks, reared monuments that were the 
 wonder of every beholder. 
 
 A general view, taken from this stage of Roman history, 
 presents us with some of the most remarkable workings of 
 human nature that ever marked the progress of mankind, 
 which, though unconnected with any peculiarities of 
 Poetry or Music, in the first instance, yet, so far govern 
 the future development of these arts as to justify a few 
 remarks in this inquiry. The public mind in Rome 
 originally fierce, desperate, reckless, and adventurous — 
 an heterogeneous mass of all that seemed distorted and 
 ungovernable — was, by the resolution and address of a 
 stripling, Romulus, amalgamated into one harmonious 
 body of bold and determinate nationality. The mixed and 
 barbarous multitude became, under their first King, united 
 to one purpose, and combined for one common design — 
 namely, that of establishing and extending their own 
 political existence and independence. 
 
 And then, as though the Fates had really conspired on 
 behalf of the infant state, their second King happily 
 
52 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 seized on this combined political enthusiasm, and, with 
 all the devotedness that man is capable of throwing into 
 any subject, he remodelled the entire Roman society into a 
 religious subordination, which kept the multitude in check, 
 and helped to work out their civilization. 
 
 In this manner the young kingdom was tossed instantly 
 from one extreme point to another, and all its earliest 
 Rulers, being adventurous strangers, were necessarily men 
 of strong and decided principles in some way or other ; 
 and each one imparted somewhat of his character to the 
 public manners of the people. Some great and marked 
 singularity or other was the necessary qualification for 
 promotion to the regal office. When there were but few 
 laws, or even none, common-place Kings would not do : 
 they must needs be men of some established bias of mind, 
 and of sufficient energy to enforce their views. 
 
 Nations generally rise gradually out of settlements of 
 families, or tribes of emigrating friends or neighbours? 
 formerly acquainted and previously agreeing upon certain 
 forms of society and government, which naturally grow 
 under their common cultivation. But with Rome all was 
 reverse to this principle ; everything depended in a great 
 degree upon the influence of her Kings, particularly those 
 of her earliest choice. In this hasty notice, Tarquinius 
 Priscus, the fifth King, is worthy of mention, as the 
 introducer of many of the Greek polite arts, which infused 
 a measure of classic zest into the barbarous mind. But 
 in the search of literature, properly so called, we must 
 pass on. 
 
 "We proceed, then, to the fourth centuiy of Roman 
 oareer, which opened under most inauspicious appearances, 
 moral, intellectual, and political. Riven asunder by her 
 own fickle barbarity, oppressed by the external depre" 
 dations of her old enemies, and doubted by her wavering 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 53 
 
 allies, she seemed tottering on the verge of ruin ; her 
 sinews were broken for the want of unity ; she was tossed 
 about by her contending factions, and witnessed, in turn, 
 many opposite phases of government. 
 
 "While Rome was in this desperate moral state, an 
 irruption of the barbarous Gauls descended from beyond 
 the Alps into the northern parts of Italy; and, being 
 highly charmed with the climate and its productions, 
 boldly marched forward to Rome, and easily destroyed an 
 undisciplined, irregular army that was sent out to arrest 
 their progress ; they burned the city to ashes, leaving 
 only the Capitol unconsumed. This stronghold a few 
 remaining warriors had fortified, and defended with a 
 new degree of bravery which their terrible disasters had 
 infused into them, until Camillus, one of their best old 
 veterans, whom they lately banished for his virtues, 
 arrived with an army from the country, and completely 
 routed the invaders. It is singular enough to deserve 
 recording, that the Capitol, the only remaining object of 
 Rome, was on this occasion saved by the sweet music of a 
 goose ! During the dead of the night, some of the enemy 
 had scaled the rock, and passed the top of the wall, when 
 the sentinel was awakened from his sleep by the chattering 
 of the sacred geese of Juno's temple, just in time to avert 
 from entire destruction the last portion of the original 
 city of Rome. 
 
 This is about the conclusion of the Legendary period of 
 the Romans : from this time they took a new turn, and 
 started forward with increased vigour, which brought 
 them on to their Classic era. They had hitherto used 
 the common national songs, similar to those of other 
 unpolished people, breathing of patriotism and legendary 
 heroism. Their traditions, and Poetry, such as it was, 
 were intimately connected with each other, according to 
 
54 THE POETIC .SND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 the bold, rude form of their own peculiar spirit. These, 
 their popular ballads, constituted a sort of half-fabulous 
 history, and were, up to the present, nearly their only 
 records. As to their public amusements of the dramatic 
 cast, these consisted of pantomime and a rude jesting 
 comedy, such as had sprung up spontaneously from their 
 own manners and customs, and differing not very widely 
 in character from the earliest comedy of the Greeks — 
 simply a coarse raillery and buffoonery, performed in a 
 barbarous manner. 
 
 About the commencement of the sixth century from 
 the building of their city, may be properly regarded as 
 the epoch of literature with the Romans. The spirited 
 struggles which this people had made at home, and in the 
 field, since the destruction of their former grandeur by the 
 Gauls, had been a hot-bed whereon all the most elevated 
 and sublime emotions of their nature were rapidly forced 
 up to perfection, even amidst the destructive blasts of bitter 
 contentions, which were all the while raging around them ; 
 but now a universal peace from abroad, and quiet at home, 
 shone on them, as a sweetly cheering spring, to burst their 
 already budding intellect into the full beauty of a flowery 
 Poesy. By their foreign experience, their importation of 
 new maimers, and the naturalization of immigrant Artists 
 and Literati, they began to feel their own position, and to 
 aspire to an imitation of the sublime models of the Greeks. 
 Livius Andronicus, a Greek captive, was their first dramatic 
 caterer. He transplanted considerable portions of the 
 Grecian Drama into the language and performances of 
 his conquerors, and also translated Homer's "Odyssey" 
 into the Roman tongue. 
 
 But the Romans could never imbibe the true spirit of 
 their great teachers ! Unfortunately for the literary fame 
 of this people, they were not only sufficiently dull, and 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 55 
 
 meanly contented to be dragged after this manner out of 
 their barbarity by a literary importation, but quietly, even 
 after their partial renovation, sat down to be mere servile 
 imitators of then great prototypes. 
 
 Ennius, the first Roman dramatist, was naturally a man 
 of Poetic spirit ; but he also foolishly allowed his vanity 
 to lead him astray after Greek formalities, to the neglect 
 of the substance, and thereby much of his original grace 
 was lost. He became very assiduous in supplanting the 
 ancient indigenous melodies of Rome, in favour of the 
 regular and systematic versification of Greece. He thus 
 aimed at too much, and ruined himself and perverted for 
 ever the taste of his followers. He ought rather to have 
 cultivated the Roman nationalities, coarse as they were. 
 He should have gathered the rough natural productions of 
 his native land, and worked them up to a finer polish, like 
 as Homer with the Greek, and Chaucer with our English. 
 The Romans, in such a case, would have felt themselves to 
 be quite at home, and have gone boldly on with the work 
 in the full strength of natural spirit and native enthusiasm. 
 They had sufficient energy for any work, and only wanted 
 setting loose into a free channel to accomplish any reason- 
 able purpose. This was their primitive constitutional 
 character ; the direct working of their proper nature. 
 
 Their second or habitual nature, equally strong with the 
 former, was their extravagant superstition, their veneration 
 for anything which once gained their credence or surpassed 
 their comprehension ; and I make no very great doubt but 
 a portion of even this feeling gained ground in the literary 
 conceptions of the Romans. They were struck with some 
 degree of awe at the sublimity of the Greeks ! They might 
 fear the rough handling of gods, which formed the great 
 machinery of Grecian Poets ! And if so, how surely would 
 they follow with but a feeble energy ! 
 
56 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 And yet, as no man of good natural parts can frequent 
 highly cultivated society without being considerably re- 
 fined thereby, so could not the Romans be made inti- 
 mately acquainted with the Greeks without imbibing 
 their inspiration, either totally or partially. Accordingly 
 we are told that this contact did really work out a 
 new degree, or, perhaps, a new sort, of Poetry hitherto 
 unknown. Instead of running headlong, to do violence 
 amongst the deities, they first tried their hands in railing 
 at the faults or imperfections of the superiors of their 
 own kind, which brought into existence that species of 
 Poetry termed satire, which, by the ultimate cultivations 
 of Lucilius, Juvenal, and Horace, became truly a grand 
 art. 
 
 The veneration of the Romans for the models of the 
 Greeks produced, in the general effect, a descent from 
 their natural ease and spirit to a restrained fcrmality ; 
 and had it not been that their innate, daring, martial 
 disposition imparted a sublime courage to their manners, 
 and thereby redeemed them, in some measure, from the 
 base servility of copyism, we should have been deprived 
 of those few great Roman authors who, afterwards, com- 
 mingled their genius with the spirit of universal Poetry. 
 
 In purely dramatic writings the Romans were always 
 very unhappy : their whole stock for a long time consisted 
 of nothing more than some base translations from the 
 Greek, together with the native buffoonery of their own 
 invention, which was probably never thought worthy of 
 cultivation, by reason of the higher pretensions of the 
 Grecian style. The importation of foreign Poetic prin- 
 ciples turned the Roman genius out of the course of its 
 natural channel at the commencement of its progress ; 
 and, as in all other cases of early perversion, the after 
 workings never entirely shook off the first influence. If 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 57 
 
 the native spirit of the Romans had been allowed to go 
 forward in its own propensity, as the leading feature of 
 their ars Poetica, with now and then a little exotic 
 auxiliary polish, instead of being entirely broken up with 
 foreign learning, it would doubtless have grown into 
 another class of Poetry, as far removed from any of the 
 Greek characteristics as the Poetry of the Greeks differed 
 from that of the Hebrew, the Indian, and all other writers. 
 
 In the early periods of this people, all their marvels 
 and fables were peculiarly national, and their legends and 
 superstitions distinctively Roman ; but this native simpli- 
 city, which, in even its rudest circumstances, is the essence 
 of truth and Poetry, was driven off by that artistic servility 
 which manifested itself in the endeavour to copy, by 
 rules and laws, that propensity and taste which had been 
 the easy flowing, in another people, of a different genius* 
 The spirit of the Greeks, during their prosperity, was 
 essentially that of originality in all their ideas ; the spirit 
 of the Romans, that of imitation, excepting the one 
 prevailing sentiment of boundless ambition, which alone 
 imparted a sensible degree of stern majesty to their 
 writings. Hence the Romans never at any period obtained 
 a national tragic drama, but descended to the brutal 
 spectacles of gladiator and beast fighting for their tragic 
 amusements. By this conduct their naturally noble feel- 
 ings of bravery and generosity became desecrated, and 
 their minds were ultimately rendered incompetent to 
 appreciate the genuine virtue of Poetic essences. 
 
 About 558, U.C., the Romans testified their rising zeal 
 for science and classic lore, by sending, at the public 
 expense, and in the name of their Senate and citizens' 
 ten of their most noble men to proclaim, in ,the public 
 assembly of the Isthmian games, a political freedom to 
 all Greece, which had then lately succumbed before the 
 
58 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 united cunning and military prowess of Rome. This 
 generous conduct of their masters perfectly intoxicated 
 the giddy Greeks with an unexpected gleam of joy, and 
 is certainly a highly redeeming point in the Roman 
 character. 
 
 And, notwithstanding all the corruptions and moral 
 evils wherewith Rome was now infected, that spirit of 
 improvement had taken hold on their intellect which was 
 not easily to be put down. The arts and sciences had 
 kept pace with the general activity of the nation. The 
 rich had begun to find pleasure in them, and, by the 
 patronage of the great, several authors were reared who 
 infused a new under-current of feeling into the public 
 taste. A passion for Poetry began to prevail. The 
 charming versification of Lucretius ornamented and re- 
 fined this period. This was a Poet of considerable parts, 
 who attempted a new species of Poetry, in a scientific 
 description of nature ; but, in spite of his acknowledged 
 merits, the philosophy of his day was sufficiently false to 
 spoil such an attempt. Neither are the critics willing to 
 recognise this as the proper theme for the Poet ; they 
 seem to think that the freedom of Poetry is at antagonism 
 with the strict laws of Philosophy ; and, as philosophical 
 tenets are frequently erroneous, the Poetry spent on the 
 error is without doubt a waste of genius. 
 
 "We now pass into the consulate of the great Cicero, and 
 the triumvirate of Pompey, Cassar, and Crassus (U.C. 694), 
 a time when the intellectual strength of Rome put forth 
 the full vigour of its glory. Eloquence became the mighty 
 means of public influence, whereby causes were gained, 
 and the tyrants often kept in control. This period was 
 illuminated by the genius of the above great men, as well 
 as Cato, Antony, Brutus, and a host of others. The chief 
 men of this age appear to have made good progress in the 
 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 59 
 
 polite arts, and to have imitated the Greeks in quoting, 
 without forethought or pre-arrangement, from the Poets 
 such passages as fitted any particular occurrence or 
 emergency in which they became engaged. These quota- 
 tions were, of course, from the Grecian authors, as the 
 Latin were not yet sufficiently established. The last 
 words which Pompey "the Great" spake to his friends 
 before he entered the company of the murderous Egyp- 
 tians were these, from Sophocles : — 
 
 "Who refuge seeks within a tyrant's door, 
 When once he enters there, is free no more." 
 
 Pompey, in his prosperity, built a large theatre, for the 
 entertainment of the public in Music, gymnastics, and the 
 combats of wild beasts. With his terrible slaughter of 
 lions and of elephants the people were peculiarly delighted. 
 He appears to have been very fortunate in winning lovely 
 and loving wives. In the list of his wife Cornelia's o 
 
 accomplishments, her proficiency in Music is particularly 
 recorded. 
 
 The Greek Poets were familiar to several of Pompey's 
 friends also. When Favonius volunteered very cheerfully 
 to act as the common servant to Pompey, an observer 
 cried out from Euripides — 
 
 " O, with what nameless grace the generous mind 
 Fulfils whate'er its virtue has design'd !" 
 
 Cicero, usually looked upon as an orator only, was also 
 naturally and eminently a Poet. Plutarch says, he was 
 born with that happy constitution which inclines to all 
 kinds of learning ; but that, in his youth especially, his 
 more peculiar propensity was for Poetry ; and in Plutarch's 
 time there was still extant a tetrameter Poem called " Pon- 
 tius Glaucus," which Cicero wrote when only a boy. He 
 translated Aratus into verse when he was only seventeen 
 years of age ; he wrote a Poem in celebration of Marius, 
 
 s 
 
60 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS * 
 
 which was much esteemed ; also a Poem, in three books- 
 on his own consulship ; and is said to have been the most 
 eminent Roman Poet of his own time ; but nearly the 
 whole of his Poems are now lost. It is needless to say- 
 how intimately he was acquainted with Greek literature : 
 this source supplied him with much of the witty sarcasm 
 in which he was accustomed to deal. In one instance^ 
 he met a Roman gentleman in the street, along with his 
 three anything but pretty daughters, and he immediately 
 accosted them with the verse from Sophocles : — 
 
 "An offspring raised against Apollo's will !" 
 
 But, as may be expected, this practice caused him many 
 enemies. In the latter part of his life, Cicero used Poetry 
 as a recreation, and, when very intent on his subject, he 
 could compose as much as five hundred verses in one 
 night. It is probably this hasty profusion which has 
 caused his Poems to be lost ; had he spent more time and 
 care, there can be but little doubt that his great mind was 
 capable of adjusting both the thoughts and the language 
 of his themes to a very high polish. 
 
 It was the custom of the virtuous and accomplished 
 Marcus Brutus to quote the Greek classics without pre- 
 meditation ; as, for instance, when, in his voluntary exile 
 from Rome, his wife, Portia, being with him at Elea, by 
 the sea coast, from whence she was shortly to depart 
 home, and leave him behind, she was much distressed 
 on that account ; and meeting, by chance, with a picture 
 representing the separating of Hector and Andromache 
 she could no longer restrain her tears, but walked often 
 up and down the place to gaze on the painting. On 
 seeing this, his friend Acilius quoted the verses from 
 Homer wherein Andromache says — 
 
 " Yet while my Hector still survives, I see 
 My father, mother, brethren, all in thee." 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 61 
 
 And Brutus instantly proved his intimacy with the old 
 Poet by smiling, and saying, " I must not answer Portia 
 as Hector did Andromache" — 
 
 ' Hasten to thy tasks at home, 
 
 There guide the spindle and direct the loom.' " 
 
 Pope. 
 Omitting several instances like the above, he is remarkable 
 for quoting, without anticipation, some appropriate 
 passages from Euripides, immediately before his death, 
 and while in the greatest distress of mind. Casting his 
 eyes up to heaven, he cried 
 
 " Punish, great Jove, the author of these ills." 
 
 Brutus, when in his prosperity, was at especial care to 
 provide magnificent public shows, games, beast fighting, 
 and other spectacles for the amusement of the people in 
 accordance with the general national taste. 
 
 Antony, the great Roman general, but very licentious 
 "inimitable liver," was a patron of those lower degrees of 
 Poetry and the Drama which are the disgrace of the whole 
 art. Those species of Music, Poetry, and buffoonery which 
 are favourable to debauch and the gratification of the 
 animal appetites were his delight. When he journeyed 
 through Asia with a great army, he had with him, for 
 amusement, a stupid set of Roman buffoons ; to whom he 
 added other more refined comedians, harpers, flute-players, 
 and the dancers from Greece and other countries that he 
 visited. And the Ephesians, to gratify and court his 
 revelling disposition, ushered him into their city with a 
 procession of women dressed like the priestesses of Bacchus 
 — with men and boys in the characters of fauns and satyrs, 
 with ivy wreaths, pipes, harps, flutes, and songs. "When 
 he and his dear Cleopatra were preparing for his last fatal 
 war against Caesar, they spent some time at the Isle of 
 Samos, in company with their numerous allied Kings, 
 
 G 
 
bZ POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 Princes, and Governors ; and a proclamation having been 
 made for the attendance of all musicians, singers, dancers, 
 and comedians, the island was made to echo with noise 
 and revelry, and the theatre was crowded with performers ; 
 while the various Kings vied with each other in the exhi- 
 bition of the most magnificent feasts and presents. At 
 the conclusion of this singular carnival, Antony made a 
 gift of Priene to the comedians and musicians, for a 
 dwelling-place, and himself went to luxuriate in the 
 theatrical entertainments of Athens. 
 
 Even Cato the Censor, a churlish despiser of Grecian 
 literature, in admiration of Scipio, cried out from the 
 " Odyssey" — 
 
 " In him alone the soul and sense remain ; 
 The rest are fleeting forms and shadows vain." 
 Book 10. 
 
 "When Cato the Younger was about to marry Lepida, 
 he was disappointed by the successful rivalry of Metellus 
 Scipio ; and, out of revenge thereof, Cato wrote against 
 Scipio some iambics, said to be equal in wit and satire to 
 those of Archilochus, but of much superior morality. 
 
 In 706 of the City, Julius Caesar obtained full power 
 over Rome, and became her first Emperor, under whom 
 the last sparks of popular liberty were extinguished, and 
 the last principles of the Republic obliterated. Caesar was 
 a practical Poet : during thirty-eight days that he was 
 the prisoner of some pirates, he amused himself and them 
 by writing verses and making speeches ; but the main 
 bent of his mind was on more terrible deeds, although his 
 whole life, if related truly in metre, would of itself be no 
 mean article of Poetry. 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 63 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE ROMANS CONTINUED. 
 
 In the year of Rome 710, we come to the bloody triumviri 
 of Antony, Augustus, and Lepidus, when most of the 
 wealthiest, wisest, and best people of Rome were pro- 
 scribed and murdered. At this period lived Virgil, the 
 sweet Latin Poet, whose spirit was worth that of 10,000 
 warriors, and whose gentle power was sufficient to obtain 
 his petition from Augustus, who became sole Ruler of 
 Rome in 725 U.C., on the death of Antony and his wife, 
 the celebrated Cleopatra of Egypt. Also Horace, Ovid, 
 and Livy added their mighty influence to the Augustan 
 reign. 
 
 The Augustan was the golden, the Saturnian era of 
 Roman Literature, and, in the latter part thereof, of 
 moral reformation also. Theatrical exhibitions had run 
 to shameful excesses, but this Emperor restrained that 
 vice with severe rigidity. He forbade the knights and 
 the ladies of rank from appearing as public dancers in 
 the manner they had been used to do ; he abolished the 
 custom of the females being spectators of the athletic 
 exercises of naked men ; and, although he was very 
 partial to theatrical performances, he very strictly ex- 
 amined the moral conduct of the actors, and imposed 
 great restrictions upon the immodesty of gestures, which 
 
64 POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 had become very common. His minister Mecasnas was 
 a munificent patron of genius. Pollio, the Consul, is im- 
 mortalized in the incomparable Poetry of Virgil's fourth 
 Eclogue. This is a very remarkable production : first, in 
 regard to the sublimity and beauty of its composition ; 
 and, secondly, in its singular coincidence with the most 
 important fact of that period — namely, its prophetic 
 announcement of the birth of our Saviour. It appears 
 that, by some means, the Sybilline Oracles had got hold 
 of the prophecy that " about this time a child would be 
 born who should rule the earth, and establish continual 
 peace." It is supposed by many that Virgil, in order to 
 court favour, interprets this oracle to signify the child 
 Marcellus, the nephew of Augustus by Octavia, and thence 
 goes on to paint a beautiful picture of the Golden Age, 
 which he supposes to be just commencing under the 
 influence of Augustus, Antony, Octavia, &c. But the 
 general ideas of the piece, considering that it is in a 
 heathen dress, correspond so precisely with the prophecy 
 of Isaiah, that there is great reason to believe that the 
 Sybils had somehow borrowed it from the Jews, and that 
 Virgil, unwittingly, celebrates the approaching birth of 
 the child Emmanuel. The Jews had then a general 
 expectation of a great deliverer being shortly born to 
 them. Virgil is very positive as to the time ; he says — 
 
 " Teque ade6 decus hoc sevi, te consule, inibit, 
 Pollio ; et incipient magni procedere menses." 
 (And in your consulship, Pollio, in yours, shall this so great glory 
 of the age make his entry, and the renowned months begin to roll.) 
 
 And it is a singular fact, that our Saviour was born, if not 
 in the consulship of Pollio, yet within the reign of the 
 present Ruler, Augustus, when the temple of Janus was 
 shut, and all the world had ceased from the clashing of 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 65 
 
 After Augustus succeeded Tiberius Cassar, a wretch of 
 refined barbarity and debauchery : his reign began U.C., 
 767, or A.D. 15. Under hini Sextus Vestilius was executed 
 for the overt crime of writing a satire against Caligula 
 although it is supposed that his virtue was his real fault 
 with the tyrant ; and Mamercus Scaurus was driven to 
 suicide, in order to avoid being slain, for none other sin 
 than having written a Tragedy founded on the story of 
 Atreus, which the tyrant's conscience applied rather 
 stingingly to himself. Under such usage Literature could 
 not but, in some measure, begin to shrink from her 
 mission. 
 
 Caligula, the fourth Emperor, obtained power A.D. 39, 
 and was, perhaps, the most perfect brute that ever swayed 
 the sovereign power over any mighty nation. There can 
 be but little doubt of his partial insanity. His critical 
 acumen may be inferred from the fact, that he condemned 
 Virgil's Poetry and discarded Livy's History, although 
 other people have regarded them as the pride of Roman 
 Literature. But, what is singular in such a constitution, 
 he had a liking for Singing. The Senators and young 
 Nobility sang his praises in a public procession to the 
 Capitol. In his pleasures he was attended by exquisite 
 Singers, and was at last assassinated when about being 
 entertained with the singing of a band of Grecian children, 
 on the fourth day of the Palatine Games. 
 
 After the Emperor Claudius was poisoned by his wife, 
 Agrippina, and her physician, A.D. 55, Nero, the son of 
 that infamous woman by a former marriage, obtained the 
 Empire. When he had thrown off his youthful restraint, 
 and assumed his natural character, he was another of 
 those inhuman monsters whose biography is a blot upon 
 the general history of mankind, and of whom Rome un- 
 fortunately produced too many ; and yet, although he was 
 
 g 2 
 
66 POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 a cruel vindictive tyrant and unnatural debauchee, he 
 had a strong and curious disposition towards harmony 
 and the polite arts, which, but for the lowering com- 
 bination of his beastly propensities, might have made an 
 honourable addition to society. Even his revenge and 
 his vices were tinctured with the unusual mixture of the 
 refined arts ; as, for instance, when he wished to mortify 
 his wicked and mischievous mother, he sent a band of 
 the common rabble to sing satirical songs and insulting 
 language, addressed to her from under her windows. He 
 inherited from childhood a passion for Music and Poetry, 
 and spent considerable exertions, under good masters, to 
 obtain a proficiency in Singing, in order to appear upon 
 the Stage in the character of a theatrical performer. 
 
 He was equally ambitious of being a Poet, but could not 
 submit himself to that rigid study and close application 
 which are necessary to proficiency, and, in all probability, 
 was not organized with a sufficient vis Poetica to shine in 
 that sublime art. In order to gratify his Poetic ambition, 
 he obtained from a number of his courtier-wits such 
 verses as each could compose, and, stringing them all 
 together, he dignified the medley with the title of a 
 Poem ! One might suppose that this was done as a 
 parody on the collection of the Homeric Poems, or else 
 that he cherished the infatuation that his work should 
 rival the great Grecian prototype ! 
 
 The theatrical tour of this incongruously organized 
 being is one of the most singular artistic adventures on 
 record. He became truly mad in his ambition to rival 
 the regular performers ! His determinate thirst for praise 
 was such as to induce him to use all the mean arts of the 
 common actors to obtain his purpose ! 
 
 The Greeks were now under the rule of Rome, and it 
 was, therefore, at once the craft, the interest, and even 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 67 
 
 the necessity of that people to obtain the good-will of the 
 Roman Emperors. As Nero's weakness happened to run 
 into their own peculiar channel of refinement, the Grecians 
 very wittily resolved to send him musical crowns, as the 
 honours of all their games ; and their ambassadors courted 
 Nero's vanity so artfully that he determined on a tour into 
 the classic land, because he considered that none other 
 people were so worthy of his attention. He consequently 
 spent a year in journeying through Greece, attended by 
 a great host of Singers, Musicians, dancers, and other 
 theatricals. The Greeks gratified his vanity to the full 
 by bestowing on him 1800 crowns, as the marks of his 
 superiority, no one being foolish enough to contest the 
 prizes seriously with the half-mad Emperor, excepting one 
 vain man, whose talents cost him his life, by opposing 
 Nero too successfully. 
 
 On his return, he entered Rome with the greatest 
 magnificence, being crowned with wild olive, the con- 
 queror's garland in the Olympic games. He held the 
 crown of the Pythian games in his hand, while the other 
 1800 crowns were carried in the procession before him, 
 and he was attended by Musicians and Singers, in number 
 like an army of soldiers, whose business was to resound 
 the praise of the "conquering hero" in the midst of 
 sacrificed victims, and displays of childish adorations 
 rendered to him almost incredible. 
 
 It would have been well for the subjects of Nero had he 
 practised nothing more really injurious and base than the 
 above insanities. Unfortunately, his mind afterwards 
 soured into the most savage excesses of cruelty. When 
 he became sated with theatrical honours, he sought other 
 more horrid pleasures. He is generally supposed by 
 historians to have set the city of Rome on fire, for the 
 strange gratification of seeing a resemblance of the 
 
68 POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 destruction of Troy ; and, during the conflagration, he 
 expressed his delight by repeating, in all the frenzy of 
 theatrical pomp, and in a common actor's dress, some 
 verses on the Trojan catastrophe ; but, finding himself 
 suspected and disliked on this account, he charged the 
 incendiary outrage upon the Christians, who were become 
 numerous in Rome at that time. Hence that poor devoted 
 body was doomed to suffer all the persecution of a pre- 
 judiced and exasperated populace, who, though jealous of 
 the real offender, were willing to wreak their vengeance 
 on the Christians, because the doctrines of their religion 
 were antipodes to popular opinions, and because the austere 
 virtues thereby rigidly enforced were offensive to the deep 
 and general corruption of that period. Under this visita- 
 tion of wicked ignorance St. Paul was beheaded, and St. 
 Peter crucified. This latter disciple, having choice of the 
 manner in which he should be executed, chose to exceed 
 the shameful death of his Master by being crucified with 
 his head downwards. 
 
 Now also fell, through the jealousy of the tyrant, two 
 honourable men of Literature — Seneca, the famous philo- 
 sopher, who had been tutor to his inhuman murderer, 
 and Lucan the Poet, who was nephew to Seneca. Pen- 
 torius was put to death under the cruelties of this period, 
 and, being of the Epicurean philosophy, he endeavoured 
 to exhibit his ease of mind under suffering by many 
 frivolities, and, amongst others, by listening to the 
 recitation of some light Poems, even while iu the act of 
 dying. 
 
 And the furious, blood-thirsty Emperor manifested his 
 Musical infatuation to the last ; for, in the midst of that 
 rebellion which rid the world of so mean and inexplicable 
 a tyrant, he displayed this one of his ruling passions, by 
 showing to the Senate some new instruments which were 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. b\) 
 
 to be played upon by water, and, explaining their 
 nature, said, sneeringly, that, with the permission of 
 Vindex, the chief revolter, he hoped to exhibit this 
 instrument upon the theatre. But the miserable wretch 
 was disappointed, not only in the amount of his danger, 
 but also in his premeditated performance. 
 
 His madness grew still more manifest every day ; when 
 he was obliged to think of going out to subdue his enemy, 
 one of his first cares was to provide waggons for the safe 
 carriage of his musical instruments, wherewith he promised 
 that he would most certainly appear on the stage after his 
 victory. In the extremity of his revolutionary distresses, 
 the care of his voice for singing was uppermost in his 
 mind ; for, although he could give his attendance to the 
 theatre, he durst not take a journey for the welfare of his 
 empire, through fear of increasing a hoarseness which had 
 settled on him ! 
 
 In his latest moments, when the enemy had hunted him 
 down like a fox to his cover, and came upon him for his 
 life, one of his friends, whom he had urged to flee with 
 him from the pursuing destruction, showed his acquaint- 
 ance with Poetry by replying to the terrors of Nero in the 
 words of Virgil — 
 
 " Usque adeone mori niiserum est ?" 
 " Is death, then, such a misfortune ?" 
 
 But it mostly happens that tyrants are cowards, and it 
 was eminently so with this despicable tormentor of his 
 own species. 
 
 During the reign of Nero, in the year of our Lord 61 
 was born that polished gentleman and accomplished 
 scholar, Pliny the Younger. He was particularly attached 
 to the Muses. Even while at home, under private tutors, 
 at the age of fourteen, being yet too young to enter the 
 public schools, he is reported to have written a Greek 
 
70 POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 Tragedy. He seems never to have been idle, but con- 
 tinually occupied with a congenial mixture of Literature 
 and business, being, in this respect, a pattern peculiarly 
 befitting the study of young men. During his return from 
 a Spanish expedition, he was detained by adverse winds 
 in the Isle of Icaria ; on which occasion he exemplified his 
 philosophical industry by quietly sitting down to write 
 Latin Elegies on the place and the circumstances of his 
 detention ; and, although he was singularly successful in 
 all the departments of private and public life, yet the 
 love of Poesy always had over him a powerful influence. 
 Even his prose writings, especially the Epistles, possess 
 much of the spirit and witchery of Poetry, independent of 
 his frequent Poetic quotations and allusions. His Epistle 
 to Socius Senecio is interesting, both in regard to his own 
 taste and the customs of the Romans. He tells us that 
 they then had so great a produce of Poets, that scarcely 
 one day during the month of April passed without some 
 new public rehearsal. Then he complains of the lazy 
 disposition of the people at that time towards these ex- 
 hibitions of talent, which were so pleasant to himself ; he 
 says that they assemble tardily, some simply to idle away 
 their time, ask foolish questions, and then loiter out again ; 
 or some even sneak off slily, at which double dealing he is 
 much annoyed. He also takes a glance back, and informs 
 us that this public indifference did not prevail in the time 
 of Claudius Caesar, the next preceding to Nero, at which 
 time the multitudes used to run to the rehearsals with a 
 great clamour. There is no doubt that a gladiator or a 
 beast-fight was generally more congenial than the fine arts 
 to the breeding of the Roman populace. Pliny frequently 
 complains of the moral and literary degeneracy of his time, 
 and especially observes that great attainments were even 
 dangerous during the reign of Nero. 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 71 
 
 The Epistles of Pliny are almost a history of Poetry 
 for his era. To Euritius he descants on the elegance and 
 spirit that are conspicuous in the verses of his friend 
 Pompeius Saturninus, which, he says, are equal to those 
 of Catullus or Calvus. Another of his friends, Titinius 
 Capito, was industrious in celebrating the lives and actions 
 of great men with excellent verses. On the funeral of 
 Virginius Rufus, our author reckons, amongst other happy 
 circumstances of his life, the fact that he lived to see 
 Poems written in praise of his great actions, and to read 
 his own history. To a friend, Octavius, he writes a 
 sharpish stricture on his foolish bashfulness in retaining 
 unreasonably long his Poems from the public. Pliny 
 strenuously urges Octavius to a formal recital in open 
 assembly, which, it appears, that himself had already 
 practised ; and, after recital, he would have this friend 
 to collect and publish his pieces in one volume, lest 
 some other person should get hold of them, and put them 
 forth in a barbarous manner. 
 
 In writing to Calvisius, Pliny mentions a hearty old man, 
 Spurinna, who, to his seventy-seventh year, was cheerfu^ 
 enough to write Lyric Songs, and be amused at supper 
 with the rehearsals of Comedians. This same old hero was 
 also industrious both in private and public duties, and 
 altogether such an one, that Pliny says he does not know 
 any other person whom he should so much like to emulate. 
 Then he tells Caninius of another amusing old gentleman 
 Silius Italicus, who, amongst a multitude of books and 
 statues, for which he had a great reverence, esteemed 
 those of Virgil with especial veneration, and celebrated 
 the anniversaries of the birth-day of that Poet with more 
 solemnity than his own ; on which occasions he visited, at 
 Naples, a monument of Virgil, as a temple for worship. 
 This Virgilian devotee was Nero's last consul, being in 
 
72 POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 office when that Emperor died. Pliny writes an entire 
 letter to Spurinna and Coccia, about some verses which 
 himself had written on the death of their son. 
 
 This kind and accomplished writer always appears 
 veiy happy when he has an opportunity of praising his 
 Poetic acquaintances. Among other instances of this 
 character, his Epistle to Proculus is remarkable for good 
 feeling and pleasure in giving approval. He acknowledges 
 the encouragement which Tully gave to Poets ; he 
 declares his own veneration for Poetry, even to a religious 
 feeling ; and then goes on to express many fine com- 
 mendations on the performances of his friend. He writes 
 a very laudatory letter on the death of his Poetic friend, 
 Valerius Martial, and takes especial care to approve his 
 wit and Poetry. In praise of Antonius's Greek epigrams 
 and iambics, he uses many kind words, wondering, among 
 the rest, how a Roman can come to be so finished a 
 Grecian ! and affirms that he envies the Greeks, for that 
 Antonius has chosen to write Poetry in their language ! 
 In another Epistle, as a proof of his deep interest in those 
 Epigrams, he says that he has been imitating them in 
 Latin ; and again he writes to say that he continues to 
 find still greater worth in those Poems than he at first 
 saw, by his inability to imitate them successfully. To 
 Falco he expresses his great satisfaction on hearing the 
 rehearsal of a young Poet, Sentius Augustinus, whom he 
 sets forth as a successful writer, and a credit to their 
 times. A similar circumstance gives him occasion for an 
 Epistle to Spurinna, whom he informs that, on the same 
 day whereon he wrote, he had been an auditor to the 
 rehearsal of an excellent Poem by Calphurnius Piso, a 
 young gentleman of quality and refinement. He thinks 
 this Poet well calculated to support the credit of the 
 age, for which he expresses his anxiety lest it should be 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 73 
 
 unfruitful in the arts. From another rehearsal, he com- 
 municates an amusing story to Romanus. He says that 
 Passienus Paulus, a Roman Knight of great breeding and 
 learning, and a writer of Elegies, when beginning to read 
 his work in public assembly was ridiculously interrupted. 
 The piece began thus : — 
 
 " Priscus, do you command ?" 
 
 And upon hearing this, one Jabolenus Priscus, a man of 
 official consequence, but rather questionable understanding, 
 quickly answered, 
 
 " No ! I command nothing !" 
 Upon this response, Pliny says, you may imagine what a 
 burst of laughter and mirth pervaded the audience. At 
 one time our great Poetic admirer expresses his strong 
 resentment against some auditors who had conducted 
 themselves in a sullen manner towards a public reciter 
 of a superior work. And as one more instance of Pliny's 
 liberal praise, we find him writing to Caninius in honour 
 of Virginius's Comedy, written in imitation of Meander 
 and others of the old Greek school, with much success. 
 But, in spite of the excellences which Pliny enumerates, 
 he observes that the Comedian had but a thin audience, 
 which is another instance, among many more, of the dis- 
 taste of the Romans in general for literary amusements. 
 Had the performer been able to introduce a few car- 
 nivorous animals and gladiators to work out his play, he 
 would have found his audience to swell enormously. 
 
 We meet with repeated information of Pliny's personal 
 activity in Literature, especially his devotion to Rhetoric 
 and the Muses. In addition to the instances already 
 mentioned, we have him referring to those matters, more 
 or less, in almost every epistle. His general studies are 
 frequently mentioned, and of the Poetic, out of many 
 more instances, take the two following : — To Paternus, 
 
 H 
 
74 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 who expected one of his orations, he sends, instead 
 thereof, what he calls his Phaleucic Verses, and says that 
 with these he amuses his leisure time in his chariot, at 
 the bath, or at supper ; and in them he expresses his 
 mirth, love, sorrow, complaints, anger, and such like 
 feelings, in a variety of strains. The next and last I 
 shall quote respecting Pliny's own studies and habits 
 is a remarkable Epistle to Aristo, who has informed him 
 that several friends in a meeting at the house of Aristo, 
 had conversed freely on Pliny's habit of writing and 
 repeating verses ; and that they went so far as to express 
 wonder why he should practise such things ; but instead 
 of shrinking from the accusation, he at once informs his 
 friend that he writes comedies, hears and sees mimics, 
 reads lyrics, enjoys satire, laughs, jokes, and makes merry, 
 so as to indulge in all innocent relaxations. He is not 
 much concerned for the strictures of his critics, and he 
 justifies his Poetic indulgence by the example of some of 
 the illustrious dead of his own countrymen ; the living 
 he names not, in order to avoid any suspicion of flattery. 
 He thinks it cannot be scandalous in him to cultivate the 
 arts that were nursed by M. Tully, C. Calvus, A. Pollio, 
 M. Messala, Q. Hortensius, M. Brutus, L. Sulla, Q. Catullus, 
 Q. Scaevola, Ser. Sulpitius, Varro, Torquatus, the Torquati, 
 Memmicus, Lentulus, Gaatulicus, Anngeus, Seneca, Luceius, 
 Virginius Rufus, Julius Caesar, Augustus, Nerva, T. Caesar, 
 P. Virgilius, C. Nepos, Ennius, and Atticus. Such is the 
 list of those whose practices Pliny thought were a sufficient 
 apology for his own Poetic bias ; on Nero's extravagance 
 he makes the apt remark, that any subject is of no less 
 intrinsic value because that it may happen to be employed 
 by a bad man. 
 
 Adrian, the nephew of Trajan, who obtained the throne 
 A.D. 117, is remarkable, amongst other things, for his 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 75 
 
 learning and encouragement of the arts. He was a good 
 Greek and Latin scholar, an expert lawyer, and well 
 skilled in oratory and the philosophy of that period, in 
 physic, and in mathematics; and, what refers more par- 
 ticularly to our present inquiry, he was a sweet Singer 
 and respectable Poet. Yet this Emperor was by no means 
 clear from vice, and was vain enough to consider himself 
 a master in all arts and sciences ; he would argue with 
 the learned men on any subject, and it was dangerous for 
 any to oppose him too closely. Indeed, Adrian's literary 
 merit was undoubtedly considerable. He suffered much 
 pain before death, and expired while repeating the 
 following verses, which his sufferings had dictated : — 
 
 "Animula, vagula, blandula, 
 
 Hospes, comesque corporis, 
 
 Quae nunc abibis in loca ? 
 
 Pallidula, rigida, nudula, 
 
 Nee, ut soles, dabis jocos ?" 
 These lines are remarkable for the employing of endearing 
 diminutives, which our language neither has nor admits of. 
 These peculiarities are not easily represented in English. 
 The reader will perhaps excuse the following attempt : — 
 
 O, little free and gentle soul, 
 
 Guest and companion of my body, 
 
 Whither, now, shalt thou depart ? 
 
 Pale, stiff, and naked, 
 
 Wilt thou or not, as wont, pass jokes or be merry ? 
 
 It is worthy of notice, that Adrian distinguishes soul from 
 body in the first part ; but afterwards applies epithets to the 
 soul which can only belong to the body — paleness, rigidity, 
 &c, wherein we discover the dimness of a heathen's con- 
 ception. Mr. Pope, by a free paraphrastical translation, 
 renders the above soliloquy into verse thus : — 
 " Oh ! fleeting spirit, wandering fire, 
 
 That long hast warm'd my tender breast ; 
 Wilt thou no more my frame inspire ; 
 
 No more a pleasing, cheerful guest ? 
 
76 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 Whither, ah ! whither, art thou flying ? 
 
 To what dark, undiscover'd shore ? 
 Thou seem'st all trembling, shivering, dying, 
 
 And wit and humour are no more." 
 
 Whatever virtue there may be in the various systems 
 and creeds which distract the religious world, this is, at 
 least, a most painful degree of doubt and uncertainty for a 
 death-bed. The intellect is groping a strange road in the 
 dark ; at such moments the lamp of Christianity is surely 
 a boon, and her hope, even to an infidel or a heathen, in 
 the comparison, must appear truly rational. 
 
 Titus Antonius, surnamed Pius, succeeded Adrian A.D. 
 138. He was a liberal supporter of the Christian religion, 
 and a cultivator of the arts and sciences ; he was munifi- 
 cent in his pensions and honours to learned men, of whom 
 he drew as many as he possibly could to Rome. 
 
 In A.D. 161, Marcus Aurelius, otherwise called Antonius 
 the Philosopher, received the empire. He was himself 
 virtuous and well accomplished, but much annoyed by the 
 vices of Lucius Verus, who reigned conjointly with him 
 for awhile. Aurelius paid an often-repeated honour to the 
 refinement of Greece. He visited Athens, and encouraged 
 her learned men by all the means in his power. He 
 appointed professors for every department of science, and 
 awarded them liberal salaries. But the corrupting prin- 
 ciples of successful luxury had entered too deeply into the 
 vitals of Romish society for the virtues of an individual 
 to bear up the drooping Empire. The original energy 
 and stern spirit of Rome was departed ; she had become 
 enfeebled by a too great expansion of her power ; her 
 citizens were enervated by debauch, and her overgrown 
 territories were plundered by the constant ravages of the 
 hardy barbarians ; in short, it is at this stage becoming 
 evident that Rome is doomed to sink intellectually and 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 77 
 
 morally, and that the pride of empire must, by-and-by, be 
 transferred to some more competent power. 
 
 It would be wearying and uninstructive to wade through 
 all the declining passages of this falling nation ; it will be 
 sufficient for our present purpose to take but one or two 
 more glimpses from her downward progress. 
 
 Alexander, a Prince of rare merit, commenced his reign 
 A.D. 222. He was virtuous and well accomplished, which 
 qualities he owed mostly to his virtuous mother, Mammsea. 
 He was well taught in geometry, mathematics, music, 
 sculpture, and painting, and was a Poet equal to any of 
 that age. He drove back the enemies who daily were 
 now boldly encroaching on his dominions. But he was 
 too good for the general declension of manners, and the 
 soldiers destroyed him because they were too debauched to 
 endure his reformed discipline. After him follows about a 
 century of discord and retrogression, which carries us on 
 to the days of Constantine. 
 
 Constantine was appointed to succeed to the government 
 by his dying father A.D. 311. He was a pious Emperor, 
 and gave full freedom and protection to the Christians, 
 who had suffered the most shameful severities during 
 many of the preceding reigns. He also exerted all his 
 power for the renovation of learning, which had become 
 nearly extinct. 
 
 From the time of Trajan there had been a perfect 
 stagnation of Literature until about now, that the 
 Christian authors began to effect a wonderful influence 
 on the general mind. The Bible was translated into the 
 Latin tongue, and the celestial light of Hebrew Poetry 
 flashed like the electric glare across the atmosphei'e of 
 Roman intellect, which, combining with the zeal and 
 industry of the devoted Christians, produced a new and 
 almost richer harvest than had been known in Italy, 
 
 h 2 
 
78 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 The slumbering genius of Eome was awakened ; it 
 stretched itself, and soared forth after the visions of 
 Oriental Melodies, and became an imitator of Hebrew 
 Poetry. This circumstance begat an agreeable variety, 
 and adorned with extra grace the closing scene of 
 Roman Literature. 
 
 The consequence of the Christian Religion was very- 
 marked upon all Roman Literature. Its effect on Poetry, 
 in particular, was that of transferring it from the expres- 
 sion of heroic and mythologic paganism to the development 
 of hymns and spiritual songs, in imitation of the Poetry of 
 the Jews ; and, however feeble the spirit of the age had 
 become, it could not but feel the invigorating power of 
 those grand patterns that were now made accessible for 
 the first time. 
 
 Such were the great and beneficial religious and literary 
 movements of Constantine's reign ; but his policy of 
 removing the seat of government to Constantinople has 
 been regarded as unhappily instrumental in the destruction 
 of the Empire ; and from this time it is useless for us to 
 pursue any further the subject of our inquiry. Rome 
 returned to barbarism, and her territories were taken into 
 the possession of the powers of darkness ! "We are already 
 advanced to a lower period in the course of Literature 
 than that from which we borrow our classic models : the 
 glory of the former ages of the Hebrews, Greeks, and 
 Romans now lay eclipsed for awhile ; the intellectual 
 light of man seemed to be gone down into darkness, 
 until the degenerate minds of the nations in after time, 
 like the returning prodigal, sought for the spirit of their 
 fathers, and drew out, from many obscure recesses, the 
 sublime works of the generations of yore ! 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 71? 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE GRECIAN DRAMA— ITS RISE AND PROGRESS. 
 
 In order to preserve entirely free from interruption, the 
 string of incidents in the Poetic and Musical Customs of 
 the Ancients, I have reserved for this separate considera- 
 tion the nature, rise, and progress of the Grecian Drama, 
 with some personal notices of a few of the chief dramatic 
 authors. By this means the Drama will be better under- 
 stood than it could be if mixed up in the general notice of 
 common popular events, given in a cursory and promiscuous 
 narration. Besides this, the Drama of the Greeks is so 
 peculiar, that it were not easy to amalgamate it with any 
 other article. 
 
 Irrespective of national peculiarities, the essential spirit 
 of any Drama is a universal talent common to all men. It 
 consists in our propensity to imitation, and, like all the 
 other imitative arts, grows spontaneously from the mind 
 under favourable circumstances, and, by those same cir- 
 cumstances, is moulded into various shapes. Hence all 
 nations, even the rudest, exhibit more or less of this 
 Dramatic disposition, in some approach to a scenical 
 representation of the several modes and manners of 
 society. The old Peruvians, the Chinese, the ancient 
 Indians, and the ancient Grecians, though each isolated 
 from the others, had yet each and all their own peculiar 
 
80 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 sort of Dramatic performances ; and we meet with the 
 same art, in its crude state, in the grotesque mimicry 
 and buffoonery almost everywhere observable amongst 
 the South Sea Islanders, the North American Indians, 
 and many more. 
 
 The Dramatic propensity, so common to all nations, is 
 as varied in its forms of development as are the habits 
 and the degrees of activity in its different cultivators. 
 That intellectual spark, which could scarcely brighten the 
 eye of an ancient pagan-bound Egyptian, would set the 
 whole of Greece in a blaze ; and so in proportion was the 
 effect in all places, according to the specific condition of 
 the mind observable in the several divisions of the human 
 family. 
 
 And although Dramatic imitation is an inherent quality 
 of our nature, and, therefore, beyond the reach of history, 
 yet the progressive and classic manifestation of this prin- 
 ciple is a subject of very pleasing historical research. In 
 this inquiry it is usual to remount to the early ages of 
 Greece, the most famous habitation of the Muses ; and 
 with us this is the proper course, inasmuch as Greece is 
 the original garden whence we chiefly imported the seeds 
 of our literary glory, and the Grecian Drama is certainly 
 the precursor of our own. We are, then, at once led back 
 to the rural sports and the rude mythology of the aboriginal 
 Greeks. This people, of an especial lively and energetic 
 character, had, in common with nearly all nations, their 
 established rural festivals and sports, fixed for the purpose 
 of marking particular national events and the seasons of 
 the year, like our May-day sports, our harvest-home, our 
 Christmas festivities, and our village feasts. 
 
 These periodical rural feasts were then, as they are to 
 this day, the simple and rude overflowings of pleasure, 
 resulting from either the blessings of a fruitful season, or 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 81 
 
 the recollections of previous benefits and old associations. 
 With the Greeks these festivals were always held in the 
 name and for the honour of that god who was considered 
 to preside over the particular object of then- rejoicings ; 
 and as their supposed gods were many, so were their festi- 
 vals numerous, and through the rapid succession thereof was 
 engendered their habit of vehement national enthusiasm. 
 
 In the feasts of Dionysos, or Bacchus, the favourite deity 
 of the vineyard, solemn hymns or devotional odes were 
 sung, accompanied with Music and dancing, around the 
 altar and sacrifices ; then mysterious rites and ceremonies 
 were performed in adoration of that divinity. These 
 hymns or songs, distinguished by the name of Dithyramb, 
 were necessarily of a lofty, serious character, expressive 
 of reverence or devotion. This was the religious or more 
 orderly part of the festival. The writers of the Dithyramb 
 were styled the Dithyrambic Poets. 
 
 Next came the devotions of the populace, or rude 
 merriment of the rustic multitude, of whose nature we 
 may easily form a tolerably correct idea. The character 
 and rites of this deity were peculiarly inviting to the 
 common rabble, and even the better part of a rural 
 population was easily warmed by a Bacchanalian carousal ; 
 and all descriptions of grotesque buffoonery and raillery 
 were the usual consequence. One portion of these public 
 ceremonies consisted of the Phallic procession, the very 
 perfection of obscenity, in which the coarse Phallic Song 
 resounded from the lips of the Phallophori, or drunken 
 men, who acted this lewd custom. 
 
 The third and completing class of performers in these 
 singular assemblies consisted of Fauns and Satyrs, or men 
 dressed in fantastic mummery to represent supposed 
 beings, who, under these names, were thought to attend 
 upon Bacchus for his amusement and other services. 
 
oZ THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 To these three sets of characters we are indebted for the 
 present peculiar forms of our Drama. The Satyrs first 
 assumed other dresses, appearances, and characters than 
 their own. The goat, as a mischievous enemy to the 
 vineyard, was sacrificed to the god of wine, and the 
 skin served for dressing up the Satyrs ; the horns being 
 erected into the appearance of upright ears. Thus dis- 
 guised, this band of extraordinary beings amused the 
 country people by all manner of extemporaneous antics 
 and waggery. At length these performers improved upon 
 their spontaneous witticisms, and held a kind of set 
 discourse, in keeping with the general tenure of their 
 peculiar devotions. These companies, called Satyric Cho- 
 ruses, at length, arriving at a little polish and excellence 
 of their art, began to vie, village against village, and 
 district against district, for the pre-eminence in this 
 profession, as we may now call it. The prize for the 
 successful competitors was a goat, which, in the Greek 
 tongue, is named ttagos ; and the song or vocal perform- 
 ance was thence called Tragou Ode, or Goat Song. It 
 seems to be not quite settled amongst the learned whether 
 this term was originally applied to the Choruses of the 
 Dionysia, who contended for the goat as a prize, or 
 whether it was used on account of the Dithyramb, being 
 sung round the altar and the sacrificed goat ; but as the 
 two are so nearly allied, this distinction is of small 
 consequence. 
 
 After a little excitement of this meaner rivalry, more 
 worthy prizes were given, and greater efforts were used 
 by the competitors. In the august Dithyramb, or sacred 
 ode, a bull was awarded to the victor ; to the Phallophori, 
 or the disgusting Phallic Singers, were given a basket of 
 figs and a vessel of wine ; whilst the Satyric Choruses were 
 left in quiet possession of their emblematic goat. Thus 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 83 
 
 originated the public games and the Theatrical exhibitions, 
 which, with sundry variations and improvements, so capti- 
 vated the active-minded Greeks ; and which, in the course 
 of ages, descended to us, through many innovations, into 
 the established form of our present Theatre. From the 
 compound name Trag-odia was derived the permanent 
 name Tragedy, which has always since that time attached 
 to the more serious dramatic performances. 
 
 These Dionysian exhibitions existed at an early date in 
 the Doric cities of Greece, where they were cultivated by 
 many Poets, of whom Archilochus of Paros, one of the 
 first regular composers in the Dramatic art, flourished 
 about 700 years B.C. ; and the Dithyramb had then 
 received considerable polish. This sacred ode was now 
 accompanied with Music, dancing, and other developments 
 of great artistic skill ; whilst the metre or verbal com- 
 position of the piece itself had become a matter of much 
 taste. Prom the dancing of the Choristers in a circle 
 round the altar, on which the goat was immolated, these 
 games or devotions received the name of Cyclic. 
 
 After this assumption of regular theatrical characters, 
 which the Satyric Choruses sustained,* whilst acting 
 publicly for the amusement of the multitude that collected 
 about them, we soon trace the next step of Dramatic 
 progress, in some improvements introduced by Thespis, 
 who, according to Plutarch, was contemporary with Solon, 
 one of the seven sages. He imported into Athens so 
 many novelties, chiefly from the Dorian cities, that if he 
 was not the introducer of the first rudiments, he was so 
 far an improver as to be frequently called the inventor of 
 the Greek Drama. He began to exhibit 535 years before 
 Christ. Thespis, observing the difficulty under which the 
 Satyric Chorus laboured, in maintaining a continuous 
 discourse without any interruption or relief, introduced 
 
84 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 a sort of interlude in the performance. By incessant 
 jesting, merry-making, and discoursing, the Satyrists were 
 necessarily both fatigued and worked out of matter, whilst 
 their audience was also wearied for want of change. The 
 interruptions put into the old system by this new actor 
 were calculated to remedy both these inconveniences. 
 Under this variation, the leader of the Chorus came 
 forward, at certain intervals, and made a recitation, a 
 performance of some character, or a relation of some 
 incident, which, though not essential to the original 
 story of the entertainment, was such as could naturally 
 enough be grafted thereon ; hence these digressions are 
 called Episodes (from the Greek epi, upon ; eis, into ; and 
 odos, a way). At the close of each Episode or interlude, 
 the Chorus resumed its original performance. Presently 
 another progressive step of improvement was obtained, by 
 causing the leader and the Choristers to mutually question 
 and answer each other in a sort of dialogue, and also for 
 the Chorus to break in with applause, or sympathetic 
 exclamations, during the narrative of the leader. 
 
 By these several steps the Drama became considerably 
 expanded, and partially polished ; and, in place of the old 
 Bacchanalian themes, many historical, traditional, and 
 mythological subjects were exhibited. In order to the 
 better assumption of the divers characters represented in 
 the Drama, Thespis contrived to fix pieces of linen over 
 part of his face, and otherwise altered his countenance 
 with vermilion, wine-lees, a preparation from purslain, 
 and other pigments. From these circumstances, the 
 invention of the Mask has been ascribed to him ; but 
 that was, probably, the introduction of the Poet iEschylus 
 at a later period. 
 
 Thespis also invented for the Chorus some sportive and 
 energetic dances which were in much favour during more 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 85 
 
 than a century ; Music and Songs were added, and the 
 whole tenure of the exhibition was brought to bear more 
 than heretofore upon one plot or design, and thus was 
 prepared the plan for a regular Dramatic composition. 
 
 The introduction of these, and other similar novelties, 
 into the city of Athens, made a great excitement in the 
 public mind, and multitudes of hearers nocked after the 
 new Dramatic wonders. We are told that Solon, now an 
 old man, but still fond of hearing, learning, and enjoying 
 himself, went to witness the performance of Thespis ; but 
 as it was too ludicrous to fall in with his views of truth, 
 he asked Thespis, at the conclusion of the play, whether 
 he were not ashamed to tell so many lies before the com- 
 pany. Thespis answered that he thought it no wrong to 
 tell them in jest. Solon struck the ground violently with 
 his staff, and replied that, if such jesting were allowed 
 and commended, it would very soon interrupt their serious 
 affairs. Nevertheless, the laughter-seeking populace con- 
 stantly followed the merry-making Satyrs, and the Thespian 
 entertainments were greatly encouraged. Our dramatic 
 hero then used a sort of wain or carriage, whereon his 
 actors and choruses were stationed for greater convenience 
 and elevation. Now, also, prizes were more systematically 
 contended for in Athens by the Tragedians ; and that 
 strong spirit of emulation was excited which soon carried 
 the Grecian Drama to comparative perfection. 
 
 The next party to be noticed, in the progressive develop- 
 ment of the Greek Theatre, is Phrynichus. He was the 
 pupil of Thespis, and first began to exhibit for himself 511 
 years before Christ. He discarded the jesting buffoonery 
 of the Thespian Chorus, and incorporated into the im- 
 proved machinery of the Satyric Drama the noble ode of 
 the Dithyramb, and by this union made a respectable 
 advance towards the legitimate Tragedy. The Satyric 
 
Bb- THE POETrC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 Chorus afforded the popular form, and the august Sacred 
 Ode imparted the loftier style and sentiments, which, 
 together, created a respectable Drama. He also forsook 
 the hackneyed themes of Bacchic history, and introduced 
 any other interesting plot or story which afforded a new 
 field for his adventurous spirit. This was assuming a sort 
 of aristocratic position, which did not exactly fall in with 
 the wishes of the common people, who pined somewhat 
 after their merry, unrestrained, and capricious Satyrs. It 
 is worthy of remembrance that the Drama or festivals here 
 spoken of belonged, originally, exclusively to the peasants 
 and their rustic acquaintance, who joined them in their 
 displays of mirth and joy at the gathering of the vintage ; 
 and the intoxicating produce of the vine being largely 
 indulged in, the unavoidable consequence was much riot 
 and fantastic commotion. This is the reason why the 
 worship of Bacchus, the god of the vine, was at once the 
 most noisy, the most popular, and the most cultivated of 
 the devotions rendered to any of the deities. Hence it is- 
 natural to expect that any restraining innovations which 
 were calculated to check this vulgar enthusiasm, would be 
 but ill received by the general multitude, however great 
 their real merit. The next more popular festivals of the 
 Athenians were those dedicated to the worship of Ceres, 
 the goddess of the harvest, and of the Panathenaea, 
 devoted to Minerva, the patron goddess of the city of 
 Athens. Both of these were peculiarly inviting to the 
 people, and, therefore, were observed with much splendour ; 
 but the vehement character of the Bacchic exhibition 
 outran all the others, and ultimately produced the regular 
 and classical Greek Plays. 
 
 The disuse of the old Bacchic themes and antics, and 
 the substitution in their place of heroic plots, with stories 
 of more universal interest, was a most important act of 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 87 
 
 Phrynichus. This might be termed the birth of the true 
 Tragedy, as it formed the essence of the Classic Drama. 
 The Dramatic Poets, thus set at liberty from their com- 
 pletely worn-out Bacchanalian subjects, were left to soar 
 up and down in the region of intellect ; and to appropriate 
 to their own purpose the most imposing events of fact or 
 of fiction. To the prosecution of this course, Phrynichus 
 is supposed to have been under great obligations to the 
 Homeric Poems, which had just been collected, revised, 
 and published in regular form, under the care and 
 directions of Pisistratus. Indeed, as Phrynichus seems to 
 have been a little infidel in his devotions to Bacchus, 
 there is no doubt but he would glean up a new form, or a 
 diverse subject from the older authors, from the services 
 of the other deities, or from any available source whatever. 
 It appears from Herodotus that the Chorus of Sicyon 
 performed the Tragic sufferings of Adrastus before this 
 time ; and there were, no doubt, other public ceremonies 
 from which a catering genius, like that of Phrynichus, 
 would easily gather a new idea, and extract some novel 
 feature for his entertainments, which, though very dis- 
 jointed, soon led to the construction of regular Dramatic 
 plots. In the first instance, his Drama consisted mainly 
 of his scientific dances and finely-polished Lyric Odes or 
 Songs, with some little combination of the Chorus ; but 
 the latter part of his daily improving career must have 
 been very different to the earlier period of his theatrical 
 performance. 
 
 Contemporary with Phrynichus were his two rival, 
 though minor, Tragedians, Choerilus and Pratinas. The 
 former wrote about one hundred and fifty Tragedies of the 
 Satyric class, all of which are entirely lost. Pratinas 
 invented a new sort of Drama, partly resembling the 
 mythologic and historic plays of Phrynichus, and yet 
 
THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 
 intermixing the merry Chorus of the Satyrs, singing, 
 grimacing, and dancing, at intervals, through the ex- 
 hibition. This has been named the Satyric Drama. 
 Pratinas is said to have written fifty Dramas, of which 
 thirty-two were Satyric, 
 
 But the grand author of the true and dignified Tragedy 
 was iEscHYLUs. He is one of the most famous Tragic 
 Poets, as well as a valiant Athenian soldier. He was 
 born about 525 years before Christ. He fought in the 
 terrible battles of Marathon, Salamis, Plataea, and other 
 struggles of his high-spirited city, in which its proud 
 enemy was most severely handled. His bravery in the 
 field was equalled only by the immortal spirit of his 
 Poetry. 
 
 iEschylus has been considered the father of the 
 Drama : he abolished the exclusive custom of recitations 
 or single performers, by introducing more personages 
 than one on the stage at the same time, and those 
 dressed and performing distinct and peculiar characters. 
 He very much improved the relative proportions in 
 the several parts of his plays, by contracting the choral 
 pieces, and expanding the dialogues and the personi- 
 fications of characters ; by cultivating his dances ; the 
 introduction of a permanent stage ; the exhibition of 
 scenery ; the adoption of masks with strongly marked 
 features ; and by sundry other alterations and additions, 
 tending greatly altogether to the perfection of the Grecian 
 Theatre. It was he who established the practice of pre- 
 venting the actual deed of bloodshed and violence from 
 being represented to the view of the spectators. 
 
 But it is not so much in the scenic part of the Drama 
 that we are to consider iEschylus ; he was a public-spirited 
 and natural Poet of extraordinary parts, who struck out 
 his own course, regardless of precedents or opinions. His 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 89 
 
 great mind took its flights amongst the grand and the 
 terrible, and astonished his audience with those stupendous 
 themes which none before him had courage to touch. 
 Heroes were to him as toys, and the Titans, the Furies, 
 and the gods his playthings. He showed in all his actions 
 a man of gigantic mind ; in war, the most determined 
 and brave ; in the common affairs of life, active, austere, 
 and impatient, yet kindly disposed when not irritated. 
 His mind seems to have been animated with a strict and 
 lofty moral feeling which disdained all meaner influences ; 
 his genius was bold and expansive, even to daring. "With 
 these natural parts, and an education suitable to the 
 station of his noble family, it is no wonder that he should 
 become the remodelling hero of that Drama which his 
 very boyhood espoused. 
 
 We are told that this Poet often related of himself, that, 
 while a boy, being once left in care of the vineyard, he fell 
 asleep, when Bacchus appeared to him in a dream, and 
 urged him to apply himself to the cultivation of Tragedy ; 
 and, having awoke, he made an attempt at Dramatic com- 
 position, in which he found himself wonderfully proficient. 
 This vision we may understand simply to indicate the 
 fiery propensity of his genius, which was even then 
 struggling to burst out into the blaze of its destined glory # 
 But iEschylus did not come out as a public Tragic Poet 
 until his 25th year: at that age he contended for the 
 prize in the year 499 B.C. ; and it was not till 484 B.C. 
 that he became successful in the Dramatic contests. The 
 number of his plays, according to some authors, was 
 seventy; but others say that he wrote ninety, or even a 
 hundred, of which a few were Satyric. He was victor in 
 the Tragic exhibitions thirteen, or, as some affirm, forty 
 times ; and yet, out of all this literary mass, there are but 
 seven of his Tragedies extant. 
 
 i 2 
 
90 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 As a natural, and, we may say, unavoidable consequence 
 of the yet infant state of the Drama, in connection also 
 with the voluminous writings, the multitudinous engage- 
 ments, and the independent unimitative character of this 
 author, it is in no way surprising that in his Poems some 
 slight imperfections have been discovered by the severe 
 rules of modern criticism, which would almost presume 
 to limit the nights of the mind by the measures of 
 feet, inches, and barley-coms ! It is acknowledged, 
 however, that iEschylus is sometimes disorderly in his 
 arrangements, obscure and overswolien in his expressions, 
 and defective in his plot ; nevertheless, it cannot be 
 denied that he is a most dignified and sublime genius, 
 who takes the highest standing-place, and maintains 
 throughout his pieces a stupendous exaltation. His 
 Agamemnon and Prometheus have been justly esteemed to 
 be such master-pieces of Dramatic composition as seldom/ 
 to be surpassed, or even equalled. 
 
 In the latter days of JEschylus, the bones of Theseus, 
 the first hero and demi-god of Athens, were discovered in 
 the Island of Scyros, where they had lain nearly 800 
 years ; they were then exhumed, and sent to Athens ; 
 which circumstance diffused such excessive joy through 
 the city, that the Athenians instituted public games to 
 perpetuate the recollection of the event. The Tragic 
 Poets were invited to compete ; the heroes of the day 
 were iEschylus, the veteran Tragedian, and the young 
 Sophocles, with his first prize exhibition ; the contest 
 was severe and determinate, but, ultimately, the young 
 man carried the victory from iEschylus, his aged pre- 
 ceptor, who had hitherto been the acknowledged Dramatic 
 champion of Greece. So deeply was the high mind of the 
 old Poet mortified at the defeat, that, according to some 
 authors, he voluntarily exiled himself into Sicily, where 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 91 
 
 he ended his life shortly afterwards. The manner of his 
 death is variously told. First, it is affirmed that he died 
 of a mortified spirit, resulting from his unsuccessful 
 exhibition ; and then it is recorded that when sitting in 
 motionless meditation in the fields at Gela, an eagle, in 
 flying over him, mistook his bald head for a white stone, 
 and dropped thereon a tortoise for the purpose of break- 
 ing its shell, but, instead thereof, broke the Poet's head, 
 and terminated his earthly career, B.C. 456. He was then 
 about 69 years of age. 
 
 Whatever might be the immediate cause of this Poet's 
 death, there is no question but his advanced life was em- 
 bittered by political and theatrical trouble. The Athenians 
 were divided into factions ; he espoused the partizanship 
 of the Areopagus, or new court of supreme justice, which 
 was established by Solon, and had become hateful to the 
 multitude, because that, amongst other duties, the officers 
 under this tribunal were to investigate the means whereby 
 every man obtained his livelihood. Hence the hatred of 
 the lazy and the dissolute was certain, and the Poet who 
 dared publicly, like iEschylus, to defend the Areopagus 
 was sure to feel himself uncomfortably situated with the 
 populace. Add to this his theatrical defeat, with his own 
 austere temper ; and we have sufficient cause why he 
 should prefer the more congenial society which was then 
 entertained in Sicily by Hiero, King of Syracuse, where 
 the immortal Simonides, Pindar, Epicharmus, and others 
 of like minds, were sojourning. 
 
 Sophocles. — We have already seen the successful com- 
 petition of young Sophocles against his aged master, 
 iEschylus, and are thereby prepared to expect in him 
 an accomplished promoter of the Drama. He was born of 
 wealthy and illustrious parents, 495 B.C., at Colonus, a 
 pleasant village about a mile from Athens, of which city 
 
92 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 he was by birth a freeman ; and if we are not to suspect 
 that fame has been too much enamoured of this lovely 
 Poet, and too partial with his history, we must look upon 
 him as a prodigy of artistic felicity. He is described as 
 a youth of almost every natural charm and educational 
 accomplishment ; of personal beauty, both in countenance 
 and symmetry ; of mind amiable, bland, and clear ; expert 
 in the gymnastic exercises ; devoted to the natural religion, 
 and to his country's prosperity, he seems to have been 
 adorned with all those qualifications that a fond parent 
 could wish, or his admiring fellow-citizens require. After 
 that almost miraculous victory of the lone city of Athens 
 over the mighty congregated hosts of all Persia at Salamis, 
 Sophocles, then only 16 years of age, was selected, as the 
 most accomplished in Music and the dance, and the most 
 active and graceful in figure, to lead on the band of 
 beautiful youths who, according to the custom of their 
 country, performed their pgean of triumph. 
 
 Such are a few of the good things related of Sophocles, 
 and, what is exceedingly rare in the history of mankind, 
 there are very few evil deeds recorded against him. He 
 seems to have been possessed of a sweet, happy tempera- 
 ment, whereby he was enabled to bear with the inequalities 
 of society, and thereby conciliate the affections of men. 
 Plutarch, in his life of Nicias, sets forth our Poet's 
 modesty, greatly to his honour, and no doubt this feeling 
 was the leading feature of his conduct through life. 
 Another rare blessing amongst literary men was the lot of 
 Sophocles — namely, the enjoyment of a cheerful mind and 
 vigorous constitution to the extreme age of ninety years. 
 Sophocles holds about the same position amongst Poets 
 that Plato does amongst the Philosophers ; their exaltation 
 of mind was nearly equal, the chastity of their language 
 similar, and the Poet is entitled to the epithet "divine" 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 98 
 
 in about the same signification wherewith it has been 
 applied to the sage. As illustrative of the high moral 
 position of Sophocles, we need only observe with what an 
 air of faith Plutarch relates that he was honoured by the 
 god iEsculapius sojourning with him during his life-time ; 
 of which this historian declares there were abundant 
 proofs extant when he wrote. And not only so, but he 
 adds further that Bacchus, by two successive exertions of 
 his power, procured the deceased Bard an interment in his 
 family sepulchre, which, without such interference, could 
 not have happened, as the burial-place was then in the 
 possession of an hostile army. But these two assertions I 
 take to have arisen from the symbolical mode of the Greek 
 tongue. As the old man was so remarkably vigorous and 
 healthy, it was the most natural thing possible for his 
 countrymen to say that the god of medicine was his guest ; 
 such an expression is but a fair example of their generally 
 figurative language. And with regard to Bacchus appear- 
 ing twice to Lysander, the Lacedaemonian general, for the 
 purpose of procuring the interment of Sophocles, why does 
 not the whole tenure of the story indicate that Lysander had 
 possessed some singular respect for the departed son of the 
 Muse, and that, through the inspirations of his own natural 
 disposition, he permitted the Athenians to perform their 
 funeral ceremonies, and return unmolested ? Certainly we 
 may fairly interpret the matter thus ; for, be it observed 
 that the general is said to have not agreed to the applica- 
 tion of the god until he had learned from the soldiers that 
 Sophocles was dead ; whence it plainly appears that he 
 regarded the Poet more than the god ! We need only to 
 remember that Bacchus was accounted the god of Tragedy, 
 and the inspirer of Tragic Song ; and we may suppose that 
 the appearing of this deity to Lysander means nothing 
 more than a springing up in his mind of his own inert 
 
94 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 love of Poetic excellence. But, no matter how we regard 
 those historic stories, it is quite evident that a great 
 amount of veneration was entertained by most people 
 towards this highly accomplished author. 
 
 Yet Sophocles was not entirely destitute of human 
 frailty, otherwise he could not have been mortal : he 
 stands accused of excesses in his devotions to Venus and 
 the jolly god ! His mode of death is variously recorded ; 
 it is asserted that he died of joy at being pronounced 
 victor at the Tragic contest, the excitement being too 
 much for his great age to endure. Then we are told that 
 he died of exhaustion, caused by reading aloud a passage 
 from the Antigone, one of his plays. 
 
 After so much of the moral and physical character of 
 Sophocles, we may easily anticipate the quality of his 
 composition. For the harsh impetuosity of iEschylus, he 
 substituted a mellow harmony of speech ; in place of two, 
 he introduced three actors on the stage, for the purpose of 
 developing greater variety of character; his Choral Odes 
 were remarkable for their sweetness ; he made them more 
 brief, so as not to interrupt the plot too much, and con- 
 nected more distinctly their sentiment with the fable of 
 the play. Instead of the terrific introduction of the super- 
 natural heroes of his master, he delights in exhibiting noble 
 specimens of human nature, and draws with marvellous 
 truth the frailties and peculiarities of men. Although less 
 disposed than iEschylus to the unearthly horrible, yet 
 Sophocles was considered superior in the true steady 
 greatness of the legitimate Tragedy. He is a spirited, 
 pure, and judicious author ; his subjects are well chosen, 
 clearly digested, and tastefully arranged. His "King 
 (Edipus" is reckoned a very masterly Dramatic piece. 
 
 Had iEschylus lived much longer to contest with 
 Sophocles, he might have said of him, as Demosthenes 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 95 
 
 did of Phocian, " He is the prurdng-hook of my periods.'' 
 But not only was Sophocles as a fine pruning-hook to cut 
 off whatever was dry and unsightly in the Tragedy of his 
 predecessors, hut he infused a natural virtue that was 
 capahle of filling up all inequalities, and bringing out 
 every member in its own fair and natural proportions. 
 Sophocles was a successful cultivator of the Drama, an able 
 military officer, and a valuable citizen, but spoiled to a 
 great degree by a want of sufficient courage. 
 
 Euripides.— The last of the famous triumviri of great 
 Gracian Tragedians is Euripides, the son of Mnesarchus 
 and Clito. He was born at Salamis, 480 B.C., on the same 
 day that the Greeks obtained in that island their glorious 
 victory over the almost innumerable Persians under 
 Xerxes. 
 
 From his early youth Euripides was trained in gymnastic 
 exercises, and in his seventeenth year he obtained the 
 crown in the Eleusinian and Thesean competitions ; but 
 he soon retired from these games. For awhile he took to 
 painting, in which art he seems to have had a good taste, 
 as some of his pictures were long preserved in the city of 
 Megara. During this early stage he also cultivated some 
 acquaintance with the Tragic Muse, and, ultimately, 
 betaking himself to philosophy and literature, his mind 
 was by degrees trained to the bold exercise of the Grecian 
 Drama. From this course of early training is derived that 
 peculiarity in the writings of Euripides which has been 
 termed his stage philosophy. On this subject, in addition 
 to his scholastic training, this Poet was generally suspected 
 of receiving actual assistance in the composition of his 
 Plays from Socrates, his school-fellow, with whom he was 
 ever on familiar terms ; and as a justification of this 
 suspicion, Socrates was noted especially for departing from 
 his usual custom in public amusements, by attending the 
 
96 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 Theatre when the pieces of his friend Euripides were to 
 be performed. 
 
 Our hero came out as a public Tragedian in his 25th 
 year, 455 years B.C. In his first competition he was the 
 third with his piece called " The Pleiades." In the year 
 441 B.C., he succeeded in carrying the prize, and from 
 that period became a regular exhibitor. His rivals were, 
 chiefly, Sophocles ; Jophon, the son of Sophocles ; Ion ; 
 and Euphorion, the son of iEschylus. 
 
 In the year 408 B.C., Euripides exhibited his Orestes ; 
 after which he shortly left the turbulent city of Athens ; 
 first, for Magnesia, and afterwards for Macedonia, whither 
 he had been invited to the court of King Archelaus : 
 while here, he wrote a Play in honour of the King, whom 
 he pleased so well as to be appointed one of his ministers 
 of state. He came to an unfortunate death, being riven 
 severely by some savage hounds, to which he became 
 exposed, either by chance, or, as some suppose, through 
 the malicious designs of his enemies ; he died soon after- 
 wards, in a dreadful condition, at the age of seventy-four. 
 The Athenians endeavoured to beg his body from Arche- 
 laus, who denied their request. His remains were interred 
 at Pella, with great solemnity and respect, and the only 
 satisfaction remaining for Athens was to erect a cenotaph, 
 with a suitable inscription, to the honour of her somewhat 
 neglected citizen. 
 
 The style of writing cultivated by Euripides is so far 
 peculiar as to demand especial attention. He is allowed 
 to be a Poet of undoubted genius ; and yet he was the 
 butt for the jeers and ridicule of the Comedians of his 
 day, particularly of Aristophanes. He stands accused of 
 courting approbation at too great a price of complacency, 
 and, by this means, of rendering some parts of his com- 
 positions grovelling and unequal to the natural grasp of 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 97 
 
 his intellect. He was derided for introducing mean and 
 vulgar personages on the stage, and for needlessly lowering 
 the character and sentiments of his heroes beneath their 
 general fame, and that, too, without serving any purpose 
 in the plot of his pieces. His aim, one might think, was 
 rather that of reducing great men to the standard of the 
 little than of elevating the humble to the rank of nobility, 
 which is the glory of aspiring human nature. This is the 
 reverse of what is usually found in Poets, and expected 
 from them. Euripides is very free in introducing his 
 deities in not a very godlike style, and makes a frequent 
 parade of the philosophical notions of his school. He 
 exhibits bodily graces or misfortunes rather than mental. 
 He degrades the female character with unbecoming 
 severity, either from his domestic infelicity, or else from 
 his desire to secure the approbation of his audiences, 
 which, amongst the Greeks of that age, consisted chiefly, 
 if not wholly, of men. The general style of Euripides, 
 when placed in comparison with iEschylus and Sophocles, 
 may be characterized as formal, nice, profuse, and adorned 
 with all available extraneous ornaments ; his Odes, sung 
 by the chorus, are more disconnected from the main 
 subject than theirs ; and his regular attempt at mere- 
 tricious novelty and allurement is much more apparent 
 than can be discovered in those other two great compeers 
 of the art. 
 
 And yet for these peculiarities, or faults, if we are to call 
 them faults, there is much to be pleaded by way of atone- 
 ment in Euripides. In the first place, the position which 
 fell to his lot in the progressive stages of the Drama was 
 calculated to lead him, more or less, into the course which 
 he took. iEschylus had already pleased and astonished 
 his auditors by his fearless intrepidity and bold, abrupt 
 style. The field was open to him and unoccupied ; he was 
 
 K 
 
98 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 at liberty to turn to the right hand or to the left, as should 
 best suit his inclination. Sophocles followed, with these 
 privileges, curtailed by so much as had been adopted by 
 his predecessor, and found that, to keep up an equality of 
 original merit with his great master, iEschylus, he must 
 introduce some new points of excellence, and, happily for 
 him, there was still room left for producing a finer degree 
 of polish, and a few more legitimate innovations, which 
 were even required for the perfection of the art. After 
 these two great artists had exhausted their minds, there 
 was but little scope remaining for their successors, and, 
 under such secondary, or, rather, tertiary, circumstances, 
 it would have been difficult for even a superior genius to 
 maintain the same elevation with these two Poets. 
 
 Accordingly, we find Euripides necessitated to cull 
 inferior flowers from the same roots. The first and 
 choicest blossoms had been already snatched away. The 
 " Attic Bee " and her adventurous elder mate had secured 
 or ransacked all the best honey-bearing blooms. Euripides 
 must, therefore, be contented with a less splendid, a less 
 odorous garland ; for the attractions and excellences left to 
 his service were necessarily of a more artificial character. 
 
 Secondly, the Greek audiences had in the time of 
 Euripides become more powerfully critical, more fantas- 
 tically nice in their taste, more imperious in their demands ! 
 And yet it was for these audiences alone that the authors 
 of this period wrote. It was this capricious public mind 
 which was to sit as the judge of genius, and be the arbiter 
 of its reward. Hence, no matter what merit an author 
 possessed, if he was unfortunate enough to thwart the 
 general ideas of the multitude, his doom was irrevocably 
 fixed, and fierce persecution not unfrequently the result. 
 This absolutely tyrannical public tribunal, through reason 
 of inexperience, was undoubtedly taken with surprise by 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 99 
 
 the first bold artist, iEschylus, who rushed impetuously 
 aud unexpectedly on, in a new course wherein his auditors 
 were unprepared to either accompany or criticise his 
 doings ; he was, therefore, their entire master. But then, 
 by so much novelty or improvement as one author adopted, 
 by just so much more difficult was the task rendered for 
 each succeeding writer who followed in the same way ; 
 and from this time we see the Tragic Poets gradually sink 
 in the downward scale of merit and success. Hence the 
 position of Euripides was far from favourable. 
 
 In addition to these three bright luminaries of the 
 Tragic sphere, was a constellation of- lesser stars of various 
 magnitude, all emitting their rays of Poetic light ; but the 
 effect of the remainder was entirely eclipsed by the glory 
 of these already described. Of the minor Tragedians of 
 Greece we know very little ; some of their writings were 
 voluminous, and yet out of the whole of their productions 
 we possess scarcely a vestige ; and it is a remarkable fact, 
 that all these inferior authors were subsequent to the 
 period of iEschylus, whence the certainty of their copyism 
 may be clearly inferred. 
 
 The oi'igin of Comedy is very obscure. Aristotle, and 
 others after him, usually derive it from the Phallic Songs 
 of the Bacchanalian festivals ; but this sort of theatrical 
 amusement has been so disregarded in its earlier stages 
 by the literati, that we know but little of its progressive 
 development. The slight snatches of history wherewith 
 we are favoured often remind us of the merry-making 
 rustics whose coarse jesting and buffoonery we have 
 occasionally observed on the village greens, and at the 
 street corners in the agricultural districts of England, 
 even under all the restraining influences of the nineteenth 
 century. A set of rural mirth-provokers always enlivened 
 the festivals of ancient Greece by their unrestrained sarcasm 
 
100 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 and ribaldry. In course of time these promiscuous and 
 heterogeneous merriments settled into a more regular form, 
 under the directions of rude, and, as we may term them, 
 natural Wits or Poets. Certain performers of the greatest 
 adaptability were ultimately chosen, and, being furnished 
 with dresses, masks, and all other necessary articles of 
 business, they went regularly to work in an improved form 
 of the art. Into the mouths of these actors was put a sort 
 of regular discourse, to which the multitude, or a band 
 selected for the purpose, responded to the chief interlocutor 
 so as to unfold the regular plot of the play. This respond- 
 ing party is termed the Chorus, and was long continued as 
 a necessary part of a theatrical company ; indeed, for a 
 considerable space the Chorus sustained nearly the whole 
 burden of the play. 
 
 The Grecian Comedy is usually divided into three 
 successive stages of progressive development ; and each 
 stage is indicative of a distinct species of the art. This 
 division is the Old, the Middle, and the New Comedy. 
 The old or original Comedy, partly described above, grew 
 at last into a satire on individuals, or an attack upon 
 personal character. In this form it became very licentious 
 and vexatious, and the art fell into consequent disrepute. 
 This species of Comedy was cultivated first by Epicharmus 
 of Syracuse, about 500 B.C., being contemporary with the 
 Tragedy of iEschylus. After him were a great multitude 
 of other Comedians, of whom Aristophanes was the chief. 
 Theopompus, 386 B.C., was the last author in this first 
 division. 
 
 In the Middle Comedy there are reckoned upwards of 
 thirty writers, who, by reason of political changes, and of 
 the check put upon the old Comedians, in their abuse of 
 individual character, were compelled to restrain their per- 
 sonal satire, and to seek out new matter for their Drama. 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 101 
 
 These writers took chiefly to mythology, to parody upon 
 the Tragedians, to ridicule of the philosophers, and to 
 the attack of persons in low conditions, or of lewdly 
 vicious propensities. This was a sort of transition Comedy. 
 
 The new Comedy, by going one step beyond the above, 
 got rid of the individual, and attacked his vice or folly 
 in the abstract only, ridiculing the frailties of men, while 
 it avoided the vexations of personal reference. Thus, 
 at last, the Comedians arrived at the means of lampooning 
 the manners of society, without giving particular annoy- 
 ance or exciting private resentment, and Comedy became 
 a faithful but humorous portrait of life. 
 
 The Exhibitions of the Tragic and Comic Plays were 
 not in Greece as with us — private speculations ; but, witli 
 the exception of the offensive stages of the Comedy, were 
 conducted at the public expense ; and, being esteemed 
 equally with the chief acts of the nation, were performed 
 under the immediate management of the magistrates. 
 These exhibitions were held at regular periods, and 
 formed the main features of the public festivals. On these 
 occasions nearly the whole of the Greeks, together with 
 many strangers, were assembled, and, consequently, the 
 theatres had to be built of an immense size to receive 
 them. The Theatre of Bacchus at Athens could accom- 
 modate with seats 30,000 auditors, some of whom must 
 have been at least 100 yards from the performers. This 
 immense place was open at the top, exposed to the 
 beautiful sky of that country, from which the assembly 
 very seldom received any annoyance of foul weather, ; 
 but when an occasional storm did descend, a temporary 
 interruption of the play was the inevitable consequence. 
 The seats were arranged in semicircular form, not unlike 
 the sweeping galleries of our large modern chapels, and 
 were allotted into different divisions for the several classes 
 
 k 2 
 
102 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 of the spectators. A great variety of machinery, and every 
 other available assistance, were used to represent the several 
 characters of the Drama in their proper style and circum- 
 stances. Instruments were fixed for swinging the gods 
 and heroes through the air, when it was requisite for them 
 to descend, or to pass across the vision ; pits and doors 
 were constructed to admit persons to ascend from the 
 nether regions, or to depart thither, and, in short, every 
 contrivance was used that ingenuity could suggest, or 
 necessity require, in the full development of any dramatical 
 piece. The stage curtain was drawn upwards, through 
 an opening in the floor, from a roller at the bottom, in 
 opposition to the " dropping " of ours. 
 
 The whole of these, and a multitude of other portions 
 of the Theatre, were inclosed by a beautiful architectural 
 structure of stone, which afforded convenient passages for 
 ingress and egress, and provided some shelter from the 
 changes of weather, together with proper apartments for 
 the machinery and the dresses, and the retirement of the 
 performers. 
 
 The Poets who were desirous of having their pieces 
 performed in the grand festivals had to send in their 
 compositions beforehand to the chief magistrate, who 
 examined each, and decided which were to be deemed 
 worthy of the public contest. To each of the authors who 
 gained this approval were allotted, by ballot, three actors 
 and a chorus for the representation of his play ; the ex- 
 pense of these assistants was paid by the wealthier portion 
 of the public, the same as any other national concern. 
 The adjudicators of the victory in these Dramatic contests 
 were five in number, and received their appointment also 
 from the chief magistrate. The expense of one chorus 
 was from £80 to £100, and was borne alternately by the 
 chief citizens ; the person on whom the care and cost of 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 103 
 
 this chorus devolved was called the Choragus ; and, his 
 being esteemed a position of honour, he was subjected to 
 several restrictions by way of qualification. After the full 
 development of these Dramatical festivals, the reward of 
 the successful Poets consisted simply of applause, fame, 
 and an ivy wreath ! No unsuccessful piece was allowed 
 to be exhibited a second time until it had been re-written, 
 with the exception of the works of those three great 
 Tragedians already noticed, — iEschylus, Sophocles, and 
 Euripides. But, after the death of these powerful authors, 
 their works were too mighty to be admitted in rivalry 
 with the minor Poets, and consequently their writings 
 were excluded from the public contests, and were read by 
 themselves annually, as a separate entertainment. 
 
 By reason of the Theatre being maintained at the public 
 charge, the people were, at first, allowed free admission ; 
 but as this soon produced confusion and uproar, a small 
 payment was afterwards imposed. A Grecian audience 
 was a very masterful assembly. A Poet, or Actor, who 
 was unfortunate enough to offend against the notions of 
 his hearers, was generally treated with extreme abuse, not 
 only by insulting words, but also by having thrown at him 
 sticks, stones, or any other missile weapons that happened 
 to be convenient. On the other hand, when the spectators 
 were gratified, they expressed their approbation in the 
 most energetic enthusiasm of applause. The Theatrical 
 exhibitions began early in the morning, and, with two or 
 three short intervals, continued the whole day. On these 
 occasions ten or a dozen plays were usually performed. 
 
 "With these short notices of the leading features of the 
 Athenian Theatre, the reader will form a tolerably correct 
 view of the Dramatic position of ancient Greece. There 
 is scarcely sufficient classic interest excited in the Roman 
 Drama to call for more than the passing notices previously 
 made. The Romans were chiefly but imitators, or, very 
 
104 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 often, only borrowers from the Greeks ; and, in like 
 manner, all other succeeding nations are greatly indebted 
 to the Grecian model, which we have here briefly 
 attempted to describe. Even to this day, the principal 
 characteristics of our own Drama clearly trace their 
 origin to Greece ; and, therefore, whoever admires any 
 of our modern writers of Poetry, of any class, cannot but 
 feel some interest in these ancient forerunners of the art. 
 There is no question but that, throughout the whole 
 course of Theatrical history, there is much both of the 
 foolish and the sensual intermingled with the intellectual ; 
 and this is greatly to be deplored. But, although we 
 deplore these errors, yet it is right that we should fix the 
 fault on the right party ; it is not our Tragedians or 
 Comedians who are to blame ; they are merely the tools 
 of the public taste, and if they thwart the public notions, 
 they will suffer scarcely less in England than they would 
 have done in ancient Greece. The mistake consists in 
 the moral condition of the nation. The readers and the 
 hearers of our Drama forget that this ought to be an 
 intellectual amusement, and that the mind alone should 
 be interested and instructed in its compositions and 
 performances. But, instead of this, the public seek chiefly 
 for animal excitements — for sensual representations. Our 
 Drama is laid under the compulsion of necessity to cater 
 for these meaner appetites, and the consequence is, that 
 those who would otherwise be its intellectual patrons are 
 driven forcibly to swell the number of its opponents. 
 Could our national taste but once become so philosophized, 
 and so abstracted from vicious propensities, as to look upon 
 this as an employment for the mind alone, then the Drama 
 would grow up into an intellectual science, and afford a 
 school of the richest moral experience. Till then, its 
 position is far from enviable. 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 105 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 REFLECTIONS CONNECTED WITH ANCIENT POETRY— FICTION 
 —IMAGINATION— MODERN DIFFICULTIES— INSPIRATION 
 —CONCLUSION. 
 
 We cannot peruse even a contracted history of Ancient 
 Poetry without being led into several reflections. In a 
 general review of the Poetical incidents and customs, as 
 we meet with them mixed up in the daily affairs of the 
 Hebrews, Greeks, and Romans, we find altogether a great 
 patronage of the Muses ; and yet, in each of these 
 nations, Poetry assumes a new form, and performs 
 different services. With the Hebrews she is a sacred 
 creature, devoted to religious and moral purposes ; some- 
 times, indeed, embracing domestic and personal pleasure. 
 With the G-reeks she becomes a highly imaginative genius, 
 and, by her supernatural machinery, she strikes con- 
 tinually at the rapturous enthusiasm of unbridled spirits. 
 Amongst the Romans, with a few individual exceptions, 
 this same art is completely desecrated ; she entirely loses 
 her celestial Hebrew breath, and flags considerably below 
 the high flights of Grecian genius. The Jewish Muse is 
 a saint ; the polished Greek, an intellectual spirit ; the 
 Romish, chiefly a dame of pleasure. The appointed Poetic 
 festivals in Judea are mostly remarkable for the solemn 
 devotion of the religious feelings ; in Greece, for the wild 
 
106 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 excitement of the imagination, and consequent excessive 
 bodily exercises ; and in Rome, for the satiety of the animal 
 propensities, descending even to the wholesale butchery of 
 men and beasts. With the Jew, and the advanced Greek, 
 Poetry maintained her ascendancy ; from the Roman, her 
 essence became almost wholly banished. Hence it is not 
 so easy as might at first be imagined to discover any one 
 distinguishing characteristic whereby the essence of Poetry 
 may be known and clearly defined. 
 
 Some people determinately assert that the essential of 
 Poetry is fiction. They use this word, too, as condemna- 
 tory, in that meaning which is opposed to truth, intending 
 thereby to verify the oft-repeated verdict, that Poetry is 
 opposed to the duties of life, and the general transactions 
 of business. If I could for a moment believe Poetry to 
 be, essentially, one-half so false as the common maxims, 
 principles, and practices of men, I would for ever cast 
 her from me as a dangerously polluted thing ! But not so 
 — her accusers know her not ! The epithet fictitious more 
 truly belongs to their own disordered notions ! 
 
 It is scarcely possible to find a word which contains 
 within itself a proper description or definition of any art 
 or science. A much better word, because more true, is 
 used by some critics of sounder judgment. They tell us 
 that Poetry is an imaginary art ; that it is the work of the 
 imagination ; that it is an image painted in the mind, as 
 the representative of any matter or circumstance of our 
 inquiry. Now, fiction, in its gross modern sense, is simply 
 falsehood ; but the image of the mind — the work of the 
 imagination — like any other image, may be false or true, 
 according to the art and talent employed in its execution. 
 An ideal image bears the same relation to the subject 
 represented as the chiselled marble image bears towards 
 the original from whence it is copied. Hence the picture 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 107 
 
 in the imagination may be as perfectly true as the purest 
 idea of heaven. These two images differ in reference to 
 their objects only as they differ in the instruments of their 
 production. The statue must always be a material copy 
 of a material being, because it is formed by a material 
 architect ; whereas the image of the mind is an immaterial 
 picture of either real objects or of abstract qualities — a 
 spiritual conception of whatever exists, or is supposed to 
 exist, either in matter or in mind. Therefore, the work of 
 the imagination is true or false, according to the condition 
 of the intellect wherein the image is created. It is highly 
 probable that the Greeks had some such idea as this, of 
 the picture-forming quality of the imagination ; for we 
 have our words Poem, Poetry, and the like, from their 
 verb Poieo, which signifies, primarily, to do, make, or 
 imagine. 
 
 And what could possibly be more truly satisfactory to 
 an intellectual being than these ideal realities ? The Poet 
 requires nothing of necessity to be fictitious — nothing false 
 beyond the mere figures of common language ; and he 
 who abides in the closest connection with truth is the best 
 author ; witness the truthful heaven-aspiring songs of the 
 Hebrews. These are undoubtedly the finest specimens of 
 all the Poetry wherewith we are acquainted ; and it is a 
 question not unworthy our inquiry, whether truth be not 
 absolutely the chief essence in this divine art. After the 
 many facts which have been collected, and the many more 
 which could be added thereto, it is not much to assume 
 that Poetry is an article natural and essential to the human 
 miud ; and, if so, that it is intended to be a true thing ; 
 because whatever is in strict accordance with the general 
 rules of the created universe we must admit to be true, 
 otherwise we offer a gratuitous insult and a libel on the 
 All-wise Creator. The abuses which we thrust into Poetry 
 
108 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 no more disprove her celestial birth-right than those 
 wars and vices which are carried on under the cloak of 
 piety can refute the truth of religion. 
 
 There is, without doubt, much difficulty in representing 
 the stern native boldness of truth in a sufficiently attrac- 
 tive Poetic dress to secure the attention of men whose 
 minds are more decidedly adapted to error. But this 
 difficulty consists not in the essence of the subject, which 
 is in itself sufficiently sublime and majestic. The real 
 difficulty lies in our own inability — in our own obtuse 
 conceptions, either to write the sublimity of truth, or to 
 receive it when it is written. "We are circumscribed by a 
 moral incapacity, and our intellect is error-ridden to a 
 fearful degree. "We are too much of the earth to relish 
 pure celestial fruits. A multitude that fills its carousals 
 with the phallic indecencies of the primitive Greeks, 
 without even the remotest perception of the rich natural 
 truths conveyed in their mysteries and sacred forms, could 
 hardly be at home amongst the Hebrew Melodies. 
 
 But it is to be feared that something worse than gross 
 ignorance has to do with this question. It is doubtful 
 whether some criminal self-deception does not interpose 
 to screen us from the sting of our own consciences ; and 
 whether some hypocritical imposition upon the opinions of 
 others be not also in active operation ; and whether we do 
 not, therefore, form fictitious theories to gloss over the 
 vicious quality of our Literary and Poetic ideas. There 
 appears much reason to believe that many of the perverted 
 notions which have been put forth, respecting the nature 
 and the offices of Poetry, were but, in reality, at first, so 
 many loopholes or subterfuges prepared for the better 
 effecting an escape, when pinned up too closely to those 
 truths for which we have ceased to feel any relish ; and 
 that these pretensions being found a convenient form of 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 109 
 
 cowardly vice, have settled down into an almost natural 
 habit, from which now it is not always easy to escape. 
 
 If this be correct, as many reasons appear to indicate, 
 we discover a clear case of injury — of defamation — by one 
 party thrown on another, for the unhandsome purpose of 
 representing himself above his proper standard of merit, 
 and, at the same time, of depressing his injured friend. 
 And yet, if men cannot bear the truth, even in the beauty 
 of its Poetic dress, why should they increase the vicious 
 quality of their capacity by persuading themselves into a 
 further error, and mocking the principles of Poetry with 
 the title of fiction ? And why should Poets themselves 
 so tamely submit to the imputation ? Why, forsooth ! 
 Simply because we are all together sunk deep into the 
 same abyss. It has become almost proverbial that we 
 have a dearth of sacred Poetry — of truth- writers ! And 
 what a reflection is this, if you take it by the proper 
 handle ! Well may the disbeliever in Poesy cry out, 
 " fiction !" But the Poetry of truth will never be a 
 favourite with any reader until Truth herself becomes the 
 daily object of his practical pursuit ; and Poets will never 
 properly compose sacred verse until theyfirst experimentally 
 believe their theme. Neither Poetry nor Truth are half- 
 hearted ; they must have the entire assent of the mind, 
 and the utmost affection of the soul. 
 
 But still it is surely not too much to hope that men may 
 be induced to abandon, in some degree, their false posi- 
 tion, and to discontinue their abusive, hypocritical conduct 
 towards the subject that does not happen to accord with 
 their preconceived notions — their remnants of barbarism. 
 
 It is by no means difficult to discover, whatever may be 
 thought to the contrary, that the first Poets were the 
 seekers and the imitators of the truth — were the Poets of 
 what they understood to be the truth. The original Songs 
 
 L 
 
110 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 of all people are simply an expression of their natural 
 feelings, given in the finest manner that they are able to 
 understand and practise. It is only men who are called 
 civilized that have learned to revel in the invention of 
 abstract ideas — of mental nonentities — of systematic fic- 
 titious creations ! The plain man of nature knows bxit 
 little beyond what he sees and feels, and, therefore, cannot 
 enter far into the world of fiction ; he cannot invent things 
 unlike what he has experienced. This holds good with our 
 aucient Poetic models. All the themes cultivated by the 
 Hebrew Poets are the subjects of Jewish religion, or the 
 facts of life — chiefly the Providence of God and the praises 
 and adoration connected therewith. There is no fiction or 
 opposition to truth whatever in these, excepting we catch 
 their highly figurative language by that name. And yet 
 the flights of the imagination are bold and sublime enough 
 in gathering collateral materials for filling up their pictures 
 along with their leading subject. Precisely so with the 
 ancient Greeks. The only gods which they knew anything 
 of were the chief heroes of their Poetry — the subjects of 
 their praise and exaltation. From the rustic love song, 
 which is one of the first subjects of simple adoration, the 
 Grecians go on to celebrate the whole course of nature — 
 her plenteous fruitfulness, her mysterious workings, and 
 her congenial beneficence. To the virtues of things these 
 Poets attach names, whereby they may be distinguished, 
 and the energies of the elements they designate as gods ; 
 and this simply because they saw in those elements a godly 
 power or virtue which they could not trace to a higher 
 source. These worked together, with all their circumstances, 
 form an extensive system of natural religion, and when 
 cleared of what, to us, is a mysterious expression, are almost 
 deserving the name of truth : it is all the truth which their 
 knowledge, experience, or speculations could discover. 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. Ill 
 
 This religious system, in one form or another, with their 
 natural emotions — their historical data — their traditional 
 reminiscences, and their many other interesting subjects of 
 faith or fact, constituted the whole Poesy of the primitive 
 Greeks ; and to these sources may be traced their festivals 
 and their Drama. Furthermore, it is too much presump- 
 tion on our part to suppose the old heroic Poems of Homer 
 and his compeers to be wholly fictitious. The whole com- 
 plexion of the early Poetry of the Grecians bears the blush 
 of then mode of truth ; and it is but fair to presume that 
 the heroics are founded on some facts, however exaggerated 
 they may be, in their traditional transit from period to 
 period, from their transaction up to their final development 
 in all the gay attire of versification. 
 
 We are strange literary infidels — wonderful doubt-manu- 
 facturers, if we affect to receive as entirely fabulous all 
 that has descended to us from above the era of letters, or 
 all whereof we have not absolute proof now remaining. 
 It would be ridiculous in us to expect, after so great a 
 lapse of time, sufficient collateral evidence for establishing 
 the verity of all, or even many, of the circumstances related 
 in ancient Poetry ; it is far more generous and scholar-like 
 to give credence to the narration, allowing, however, for 
 the errors of ignorance, and of heroic enthusiasm, which 
 have, no doubt, become interwoven with the texture of 
 the ancient writings. 
 
 And yet, in the advanced ages of Greece, men became 
 sufficiently civilized to invent fiction, and sufficiently 
 polished to tell falsehoods, which, as Solon prophesied, 
 ultimately interfered with serious affairs ; but we still 
 hold, that such fictions were so far from necessary, as 
 to be a real fault ; and so thought Solon, who, though 
 himself a Poet, could not endure to hear lies grafted into 
 Poetry. However, in spite of the natural root of Poetry, 
 
112 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 and the censures of the better sort of men upon those who 
 abused the cultivation of this art, error continued its hold 
 on the public mind, and, by courting favour and pampering 
 men's passions, made itself, ultimately, a necessaiy article 
 in the service of the Muses. Greece at last reaped her full 
 share of noxious flowers, and Rome afterwards imported 
 the seeds which ripened thereon. 
 
 Then, lastly, as regards fiction, although some use this 
 term as a stigma on Poetry, and although I deny it, in its 
 broad sense, to be a necessary material for the exercise of 
 the Poet's talent, yet I have no reluctance in believing 
 that it may, in the sense of fable, type, or parable, be 
 rendered both useful and ornamental in the most truthful 
 compositions. "Whoever thinks of condemning the fiction 
 of iEsop, or Gay's " Fables," or the parables of the Evan- 
 gelists ? And were it not for some abuse, on the one 
 hand, together with a peculiarly narrow bigotry on the 
 other, the objection would never have attained much force 
 against Poetry. A little suppositious amplification of a 
 plot may sometimes be very useful, by giving a more 
 extensive scope to the imagination, and thus, in some 
 measure, satisfying our human thirst for novelty. But 
 this description of matter ought always to be kept in rigid 
 subordination to the truth, and never allowed to border on 
 that meretricious vanity which, first becoming obscure and 
 unmeaning, ends in dissatisfaction. 
 
 From the contradictious profusion which ultimately 
 grew up amongst the ancients we derive our Poetic 
 patterns, and our most incongruous English taste and 
 customs. Some of us admit into our Poetic creed nothing 
 but the sternly religious strains of the Jewish Muse ; 
 some few ape the choirs of Parnassus ; and a multitude, 
 unhappily, cherish the inferior examples of Greece, with 
 some tincture even of the vicious propensities of the 
 
OP THE ANCIENTS. 113 
 
 Italian Amphitheatre. Our avaricious adoption of these 
 opposite features into the different regions of our national 
 taste arises, no doubt, from the confused mixture of the 
 English character, which well prepares us for receiving so 
 many and heterogeneous models. 
 
 Our origin is from nearly all nations ; we have inter- 
 course with all, and each of us thinks and acts in accord- 
 ance with his own individual will. Hence many different 
 states of moral and intellectual culture are inevitable, and 
 this will as certainly lead to our imitation of those patterns 
 which are most allied to each of our several notions. It 
 were greatly to be wished, even intellectually speaking, 
 that the public mind could be all brought to one fair 
 standard ; this would redeem Poetry from the desecration 
 into which she has been partly enticed, and partly forced, 
 by those who are the first to heap their contumely on her 
 fallen graces. 
 
 With such dissimilar examples for his imitation, and so 
 many conflicting and indefinite sentiments in his patrons 
 and critics, it has become really a severe task for the 
 English Poet to hit upon a successful course for his essays. 
 Prom this cause he is debarred of reasonable encourage- 
 ment ; he must fight his labours on to the public attention, 
 in the face of every impediment ; and even should he be 
 fortunate enough to force a fair impression, he is, after all, 
 looked upon as nothing more than a pleasant trifler, the 
 property of the public, to be either quoted or derided, 
 according to the humour, intellect, or morals of the com- 
 pany into which he may happen to fall. 
 
 And what is the inevitable consequence of this con- 
 dition ? Why, nothing more certain than that it will 
 deter, perhaps, the very best geniuses from their natural 
 course, and thereby rob the world of, probably, some of 
 the best gems with which it would otherwise have been 
 
 i 2 
 
114 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 adorned. To be convinced of this circumstance, we hare 
 need only to remember the distracting effect of public 
 opinion upon the great Greek Tragedians ; and the world's 
 history supplies many more examples wherein the mighty 
 have been diverted from their purpose. 
 
 Another great mischief no doubt arises from this bad 
 taste. Nearly all men of decent mental powers have 
 considerable Poetic feeling in their youth ; but on arriving 
 at manhood, and observing the deterring attitude of the 
 public towards this subject, they become somewhat alarmed 
 at the threatened hostility ; and very many are really 
 laughed out of all their finer feelings, and induced to 
 become, as other men, mockers of their noble birth-right 
 — the glorious harmony and virtue of creation ! Some at 
 this period go back to swell the multitude of discordant 
 spirits, whose occupation is to libel the pure and innocent 
 joys of nature, and to seek out new and contorted inven- 
 tions of their own. Some, who still feel the darling Muse 
 too kind, too loving, to be forsaken, and are yet somewhat 
 fearful of the conflict of public mind, rush impetuously, 
 and almost despairingly, into a devoted enthusiasm, as 
 their best resource and only defence ; they become callous 
 to all opinion, and force their passage into such extremes 
 as otherwise they would have never known. To stand on 
 his own natural ground, like other men, is almost an 
 impossibility for any modern English Poet. He has but 
 little sympathy from others ; no companionship or friendly 
 advice ; those around him are fighting the wars of, too 
 often, wicked politics, religious schism, or mercantile 
 knavery. For the most part, his theme is too elevated for 
 his observers, and he stands per force an isolated being ! 
 
 Where, then, is the wonder that, in perusing the 
 biography of the Poets, we should meet with a great 
 amount of heedless eccentricity ; some revenging satire ; 
 
OP THE ANCIENTS. 115 
 
 some mocking comedy, and some Archilochian venom ? 
 What less could be expected in the last resort of the poor, 
 provoked mental outcast. This is really the root of the 
 Poet's usual unfitness for common business, and the public 
 deserves the greater blame on account thereof. It were 
 greatly to be desired that we should have a reformation in 
 our Poetic customs. But without some general reorganiza- 
 tion of public ideality, morals, and education, this whole- 
 some change can scarcely be anticipated. Our Mechanics' 
 Institutes and other learned establishments are not a 
 little at fault ; yet we hope the arising of a more natural 
 and glorious light, and think we already discern a few 
 rays, as the first-fruit of the happy day now dawning in 
 the horizon of intellect. 
 
 That Poetry is necessarily and essentially at antagonism 
 with the common engagements of life, either political, 
 commercial, or social, is a great mistake, and directly 
 contradicted by the facts of the preceding pages. The 
 Jews have ever been proverbial for their hard, persevering, 
 money-making propensities, and general solid unflinching 
 habits ; the Greeks were all warriors, artizans, and men of 
 business ; and those of the Romans who have been most 
 remarkable for Poetic feelings have, in nearly all ages, been 
 the chief men of public usefulness. There is, indeed, some 
 danger that the pride of intellect may creep in, and set a 
 man to contemn all inferior pursuits ; but this can be only 
 in a one-sided mind, which has lost its natural sense of 
 rectitude. And this species of pride is equally dangerous 
 to all other valuable possessions ; but we should not, on that 
 account, refuse the enjoyment of those blessings which are 
 liable to such attack ; it is much better to rescue them, 
 if possible, from the abuse, and cultivate their natural 
 truthful character, whereby their value will be increased. 
 
 Before leaving this ground, one serious because mis- 
 
116 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 chievous error requires our consideration — namely, that of 
 Poetic inspiration. We have seen in the life of iEschylus 
 that he ascribed his dramatic talent to the immediate 
 inspiration of Bacchus. Lysander, the Spartan general, is 
 said also to have been inspired by the same god with a 
 kindly disposition, for the purpose of allowing the funeral 
 of Sophocles to pass unmolested through his army. The 
 whole army of Bacchus was said to be inspired when he 
 travelled into the East ; and old Socrates is memorable 
 for professing to have the attendance of a demon, who 
 encouraged him in good ideas and sentiments. Also, on 
 Mount Parnassus, the supposed residence of the Muses, 
 and of Apollo, their deity, there was said, at one time, 
 to be a fissure in the earth, which emitted sulphureous 
 vapours, whereby a herd of goats and their attendant, 
 together with some other persons, were inspired in a 
 wonderful manner. This, of course, was said to be the 
 spirit of the god, and it was resolved to build there a city 
 for his honour, and to dedicate to him a temple and an 
 oracle. This city was called Delphi ; the oracle became 
 famous all over the world, and the temple was the 
 repository of great wealth offered by its visitants. The 
 priestess, called Pythia, professed to give the answers of 
 the god to the questions of men, on all matters, whether 
 public or private ; she pretended to receive from the deity 
 a sudden rush of inspiration into her through means of 
 the gas, from the cavity of the earth within the temple ; 
 and to perfect the system, she delivered those answers in 
 verse, as the real responses of Apollo, the god and patron 
 of Poetry, Music, and all the fine arts. 
 
 Besides these instances of supposed inspiration, the 
 reader will scarcely require informing that, to gather a 
 multitude, more cases would be easy work ; but these are 
 remarkable examples, and sufficient for our purpose ; we 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 117 
 
 need not seek further for the present. That the ancients 
 speak of an inspiration admits of no dispute. That the 
 middle, or what are termed the dark ages, should adopt 
 this or any other doctrine, is not very marvellous ; but 
 that modem Europe, and especially England — and that, 
 too, in the nineteenth century, under all the influences of 
 increased civilization and experience — should swallow the 
 nasty gas of the Delphian cavern, with natural avidity 
 and satisfaction, is a thing almost incredible ! And this 
 appropriation of a notion which is altogether foreign to 
 our genius, both makes us look stupid, and gives the 
 Poet's enemy a good foundation for his ridicule. 
 
 Old Cornelius Agrippa, in his "Vanity of Arts and 
 Sciences," gives a tremendous slash at the pretended 
 inspiration of the Poets ; but there are also many 
 enlightened people who, even to this day, bebieve that 
 real inspiration — a supernatural endowment — is necessary 
 for the production of Poetry. Even many of our good 
 Poets, either from ignorance, thoughtlessness, vanity, or 
 some other useless characteristic, have assisted in propa- 
 gating the notion of Poetic inspiration by their formal 
 invocations of the Muses, and other unnecessary acts and 
 foreign modes. 
 
 In consequence of these circumstances, many persons 
 are really in doubt whether there be not some sort of 
 Poetic inspiration ; indeed, I make but little question that 
 some think that there is, in fact, a supernatural visitation 
 received by the real Poet ; and hence, it is, in some 
 measure, that they take him to be a man scarcely 
 belonging to this sphere — as a being of a different nature 
 — as one unfitted for the pursuits of life. 
 
 But let us examine what is inspiration ? The simple 
 meaning of this word is, first, a drawing in of the breath ; 
 secondly, a breathing into anything ; and, thirdly, amongst 
 
118 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS 
 
 the divines " Inspiration is when an overpowering impres- 
 sion of any proposition is made upon the mind by Grod 
 himself, that gives a convincing and indubitable evidence 
 of the truth and divinity of it : so were the prophets and 
 the apostles inspired." (Watts.) Now, the first and second 
 definitions are inapplicable ; it must, therefore, be in the 
 last sense only that modern Poets are said to be in- 
 spired ; and yet it appears strange that any rational man, 
 especially a Christian, should ever conceive such a notion. 
 Supposing that we had a godly inspiration the productions 
 thereof must of certainty be godly — be of one uniform and 
 specific character ; and even though the language, or 
 style of verbal expression, should be left to the writer, 
 yet the ideas, the sentiments, and the purposes set forth 
 ought to be in strict keeping with the character of that 
 superior Being from whom the inspiration is supposed to 
 proceed. But if this were the case, and all other descrip- 
 tions of Poetry were annihilated, how small indeed would 
 be our remaining stock. It is proper to remember that an 
 inspiration of religious sentiments is a very distinct thing 
 from an inspiration of the art of writing Heroics, Tragedies, 
 Comedies, Satires, Lyrics, or any other such like articles. 
 Or, if we revert to Delphi, and consult the Pythoness, 
 she is no proof of Poetic inspiration, but rather the reverse, 
 for she ceased to deliver Poetry; she made up doggrel, 
 and fathered it upon Apollo, till at last it could be endured 
 no longer ! The people declared that this god of Poetry 
 made the worst verses of any author in the world ! ! A 
 pretty inspiration this, and Pythia, when she could no 
 longer cheat by her Poetic delusions, descended to make 
 what she could out of plain prose ! Scarcely any one will 
 believe otherwise than that this was one of those decep- 
 tions which we find, in all ages, practised upon the 
 credulous public for the sake of its profits. But although 
 
OF THE ANCIENTS. 119 
 
 such things may prosper for awhile, they end in dis- 
 appointment. 
 
 With regard to iEschylus, I have already explained 
 that his supposed inspiration was no doubt the force of 
 his strong and fervid imagination, fixed on a particular 
 purpose ; and the like of Lysander. As the demon or 
 genius which was said to attend and direct Socrates, I am 
 fully persuaded that this was merely his own good under- 
 standing, which supported and encouraged him in the 
 performance of any wise design that he had proposed ; 
 in fact, this doctrine forms one item in the Platonic 
 philosophy, and is another proof, if more were wanting, of 
 the mysterious mode of speaking and teaching adopted by 
 the ancients. We find it was a studied principle with 
 many of the philosophers to deliver their sentiments in an 
 enigmatical manner, so as to be understood only by the 
 initiated. As a mighty instance of this, we find Alexander 
 the Great wrote to Aristotle to complain about the philoso- 
 pher having published the sciences which he had formerly 
 taught to the King, who now became displeased that 
 others would learn as much as himself ; whereas he wished 
 to stand supreme ; but the Stagyrite satisfied his royal 
 disciple by assuring him that though the books were 
 indeed, published ; yet the subject of them remained a 
 secret to all but to those who were initiated into the mode 
 of expression wherein the books were written. King 
 Solomon appears to have been well acquainted with this 
 enigmatical form of instruction ; he gives us a noble 
 example in his sacred song, which is scarcely suited to 
 the crude ideas of these refined days. Furthermore, he 
 gives us a specific intimation of this mysterious way of 
 teaching. He says : — "A wise man will hear, and will 
 increase learning ; and a man of understanding shall 
 attain unto wise counsels ; to understand a proverb, and 
 
120 THE POETIC AND MUSICAL CUSTOMS . 
 
 the interpretation ; the words of the wise, and their dark 
 
 SAYINGS." 
 
 We ought, therefore, to rest satisfied with understanding 
 that, under the outward appearance of words, the ancients 
 possessed meanings, and even doctrines, which are not 
 always comprehensible to us, and so not safe for us to 
 adopt into very familiar practice. Prom the habitual use 
 of a single expression, borrowed out of the enigmatical, 
 and often misunderstood writers, we may entirely pervert 
 its original meaning, and build thereon such sentiments as 
 the primitive literati never cenceived. Nay, indeed, let us 
 so far mistrust the common course of our perceptions as to 
 examine carefully all such matters before we dare to pre- 
 sume, even in supposition, that our great forerunners in 
 literature set themselves much in opposition to natural 
 truth ; and, especially let us take care that we do not, 
 unwittingly, receive into our creed even greater errors 
 than we sometimes profess to find in the ancients. I 
 cannot persuade myself to enter seriously any further into 
 the subject of Poetic inspiration ; for it must require a 
 very little steady attention in any person to discover its 
 fallacy. 
 
 Having advanced thus far, I must leave this theme ; 
 and should my readers find sufficient entertainment 
 herein, probably on a future occasion I may offer them 
 other considerations relating to the practices and principles 
 of the Poetic Art. Amongst other very important ques- 
 tions yet remaining are the moral and political conditions 
 of the people, which may be observed in parallelism with 
 the several stages of Ancient Poetry. And besides this 
 question, I should wish to trace the course of Poetic 
 usages and sentiments, through succeeding ages, down to 
 our own time ; — a subject which, if fully developed, is 
 pregnant with important lessons. 
 
HER MAJESTY 
 
 QUEEN VICTORIA'S VISIT, 
 
 TO CASTLE HOWARD, 
 
 THE RESIDENCE OF THE 
 
 EIGHT HOE THE EABL OF CABLISLE, 
 
 august 27th, 1350. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 _Lhe many points of uovelty which the recent Royal 
 Journey presents over any other in the world's history, 
 will, I think, justify my loyal enthusiasm. All the features 
 of railway travelling are entirely new ; the felicitous ease, 
 the almost annihilation of immense space, and the conse- 
 quent multiplying of time, are modern realities of the most 
 interesting experience. Add to these the universal display 
 of loyal affection everywhere manifested along the royal 
 route, without any mingling of restraint, coldness, force, 
 fear, or other alloy, and sustained, simply, by a real soul- 
 felt national love towards an admired and agreeable 
 Monarch, and then you have a picture worthy the pencil 
 of the most inspired artist. 
 
 I have, however, read, or heard it expressed by some 
 stern moralist, that we need not praise any person for the 
 performance of good deeds, because that to do good is the 
 duty of all men, and that the fulfilment of duty gives no 
 title to an eulogy ! But I am of a very different opinion, 
 and therefore am not one of those who praise in flattery ! 
 In a state of being where we have so many delinquencies, 
 and innumerable temptations to depravity, I take it that a 
 prudent encouragement is the shortest way to make an 
 upright man ! The consciousness of being approved is a 
 strong foundation for our morals that cheers us on in the 
 resistance of evil ; whereas, a man who feels himself 
 generally avoided and detested in society, usually turns 
 out a consummate villain, and takes the certain road to 
 moral destruction. We seem all inclined, in some degree, 
 to grow into what men tell us we are. 
 
 Hence it is as a matter of principle that I am inclined to 
 offer my commendations to the virtuous great. From a 
 personage nothing can emanate of a trifling effect ; 
 
124 PREFACE. 
 
 his position magnifies upon others the force of all his 
 deeds. If, then, we are blessed with a Monarch, or other 
 great person, desirous of walking at the head of the 
 nation in the paths of virtue and moral rectitude, which 
 have but too often been strangers to the "powers that be,'' 
 ought we not immediately to show our apprecience of 
 such conduct, and so be instrumental in assisting that 
 determination of goodness to the highest attainable point 
 of perfection ? Ought we not to hold up such excellence 
 as a lamp to the feet of all other present and future great 
 persons ? And is it not veiy proper, too, that we should 
 bring out these rare instances as examples to the humbler 
 classes, who have often been inclined to think that moral 
 propriety is expected from them, almost to the exemption 
 of their superiors ? Practically, it has frequently seemed as 
 though the rich lived by their might, and the poor by 
 their virtues ; but a different moral rule has of late 
 entered our land, whereby many of the wealthy are 
 becoming rich in those graces which ennoble humanity ; 
 and therefore ought our souls to overflow with gratitude. 
 
 This overflowing or spontanous working of mind was 
 really the cause of these Stanzas on Her Majesty's Visit 
 to Castle-Howard. With the first announcement of the 
 intended journey, certain preparations were made along 
 the route, and a degree of enthusiastic loyalty displayed 
 which drew from me those expressions of pleasure which 
 constitute, chiefly, the first part of the piece, even 
 before I began to think of writing formally on the subject. 
 And arriving at the end of the first part, I thought not of 
 proceeding any further, till the observation of a friend, that 
 I had not mentioned the royal children, threw me head- 
 long into the second part ; and, having completed that 
 portion, I again shut up my manuscript with the intention 
 of doing no more. A copy of these two parts was, through 
 the kindness of the Right Honourable the Earl of Carlisle, 
 presented to Her Majesty at Castle-Howard ; but I after- 
 wards thought the remaining portions a necessary com- 
 pliment to the other distinguished persons, and a natural 
 conclusion to the subject. A. G. T. 
 
HEE MAJESTY'S VISIT, &c. 
 
 Part I. 
 
 *' Jam Fides, et Pax, et Honor, Pudorque 
 Priscus, et neglecta redire Virtus 
 Audet: apparet que "beata pleno 
 
 Copia Cornu. HoE. 
 
 (Now Faith., and Peace, and Honour, and ancient Modesty, and 
 neglected Virtue daxe to return, and joyful Plenty appears with, 
 her full horn.) 
 
 Hail ! grand auspicious morning ! hail ! 
 
 Lift up thy curtains high ! 
 And shed abroad a genial tint 
 
 Across th' extended sky! 
 
 Behold ! our Queen comes forth to-day ! 
 
 The Queen of British Isles ! — 
 Victoria travels out to see 
 
 Her nation's cheerful smiles ! 
 
 Hold up, ye clouds, your sluggish wings ! 
 
 To upper skies ascend ! 
 Nor, overshadowing the sun, 
 
 With frowns o'er earth impend ! 
 
 Shine out, thou soVreign light of day, 
 With bright transcendent blaze ! 
 
 Till all creation, filPd with bliss, 
 Shall hymn its Maker's praise. 
 
 Then, blithe and mirthful, every scene 
 
 Shall laugh without alloy, 
 And well beguile our Lady's way 
 
 With plenitude of joy. 
 
 Lo ! now she comes ! The children shout, 
 
 And wave their tokens high ! 
 And men, and maids, and matrons press 
 
 Their SoVreign to espy ! 
 
 m 2 
 
! 
 
 126 her majesty's visit 
 
 The instruments of martial sound 
 
 Burst forth melodiously, 
 With harmony that gives relief 
 
 To our excess of glee ! 
 And as Minerva taught the Prince, 
 
 (Bellerophon, the fair,) 
 On Pegasus, the winged horse, 
 
 To triumph in the air ; 
 So now hath godly wisdom taught 
 
 That artfulness of plan 
 Wherein the might of very God 
 
 Obeys the will of man. 
 Hence, fleeter than the striving winds, 
 
 For our good Queen we form 
 A steed that mocks the tempest's flight, 
 
 And leaves the chasing storm ! 
 Nor need we Mercury to bear 
 
 The swifter tidings hence ; 
 With both his winged hat and heels 
 
 The gods can now dispense ! 
 When, like a goddess going forth, 
 
 Victoria would stray, 
 EVii Lightning's self foreruns, and says, 
 
 Prepare ! — prepare her way ! 
 
 All universal pow'r conspires 
 
 To aid th' anointed Queen, 
 Till, like an Indian arrow flown, 
 
 She's past, and scarcely seen ! 
 Lo ! cautious Earth his mantle threw *, 
 
 To shield her from our sight ! 
 So sacred is her safety held 
 
 By all superior might. 
 Yet, envious Terra, why so churl 
 
 With too officious care ? 
 For we would smite the hand that dar'd 
 
 To harm our noble Fair. 
 That foul, presumptuous cloud of sand 
 
 I charge thee to restrain ! 
 Nor mar with dust, nor hide from view, 
 
 That Lady or her train ! 
 
 * Swift trains usually throw up a cloud of dust, in dry weather, not very- 
 gracious to the vision of bystanders. 
 

 TO CASTLE-HOWARD. 127 
 
 Behold ! how modestly she runs ! 
 
 No ostentation's seen ! 
 And hist'ry shows in virtuous worth 
 
 Never her rival Queen ! 
 
 When Seroiramis went abroad, 
 
 She drench'd the earth in blood 
 From Nineveh, through Asia's bounds, 
 
 EVn to old India's flood ! 
 
 Pah- Helen, by her wanton pride, 
 
 Prepar'd the grave of Troy, 
 And made her native Grecian home 
 
 Pay dearly for her joy ! 
 
 When Cleopatra, Egypt's Queen, 
 
 Sail'd in her glory-boat, 
 To ape the Venus what she could, 
 
 All vanities were sought ! 
 
 But our Victoria scorns such airs, 
 
 And travels meekly on ; 
 You seldom know she's on her way 
 
 Before she's really gone ! 
 
 From Scarbro', once, we " put to sea," 
 
 To greet our passing Queen, 
 With many more, who had not then 
 
 Their Royal Mistress seen! 
 
 When, lo ! so stealthily she steer'd 
 
 Along the "offing" way, 
 We scarcely saw her "pennant" wave, 
 
 So slight was her display ! 
 
 With lofty canvass, through the spray 
 
 We seem'd to almost fly ; 
 But in th' horizon, lost to view, 
 
 She taught us all " good-bye !" 
 
 We "veer'd about," and "made a tack" 
 
 To our " intended port," 
 And soon again were harbour'd safe 
 
 Under the ancient fort. 
 
 Some thousands from the " Castle-cliff" 
 
 Throng'd to the " Lighthouse Pier," 
 Of what the Queen to us had said 
 
 Some short report to hear ! ! 
 
128 her majesty's visit 
 
 Such now again ! She hies away 
 
 Without the last parade ! 
 And seems to wish that we would not 
 
 Her quietude invade ! 
 
 Vulcan ! thou lord of forging skill, 
 
 Now warrant well thine art ! 
 And bid the rails, and bolts, and springs 
 
 Act well their destin'd part ! 
 
 And hush yon 'streperous din, whose rage 
 
 Must some annoyance yield ; 
 Let those impetuous chariot-wheels 
 
 To silence be anneal'd ! 
 
 Electrify or Galvanize, 
 
 Or seek ethereal aid, 
 To cushion with a soft'ning spell 
 
 All thy discordant trade ! 
 
 Then, as it were, on angels' wings 
 
 She'll view her wide domain ; 
 Or, as in a celestial car, 
 
 Drive through th' extended plain ! 
 
 Ye guardian spirits, from purer realms, 
 
 Benignantly descend ! 
 From worldly harm and worldly fear 
 
 Her Majesty defend ! 
 
 As the good genius taught the sage* 
 To feel what thoughts were ill ; 
 
 Then left him free, when he was right, 
 To follow all his will ; 
 
 As the twin deities t appear'd, 
 
 Like men who travell'd hard, 
 To save from an impending death 
 
 Their very favourite Bard J ; 
 
 Or, as the heav'nly guide who gave 
 
 The flaming sign by night, 
 And held by day the pillar' d cloud - 
 
 To guide the saints aright ; 
 So, dread eternal Pow'r of heaVn, 
 
 Ordain some blessed guest 
 To guide our Sovereign in the course 
 
 Of all whate'er is best ! 
 
 * Socrates. t Castor and Pollux. $ Simonides. 
 
TO CASTLE-HOWARD. 129 
 
 ! be her virtue ever pure — 
 
 Her spirit ever fair; 
 And well preseiVd from all that's wrong, 
 
 And all that can impair ! 
 
 In Howard Castle now enshrin'd, 
 
 She walks those ancient halls ; 
 And we'll hold sacred for her sake 
 
 Those old familiar walls ! 
 
 Let no rude loyalty approach 
 
 With over-rustic stare, 
 T" intrude amid her rural peace, 
 
 Or mar her bliss with care ! 
 
 For crowned heads, like others, wish 
 
 At times for quiet bliss ; 
 And all would have our Queen t' enjoy 
 
 A sweet retreat like this ! 
 
 'T would seem a gen'rous breath is here 
 
 Of dignity and worth, 
 That in celestial, balmy life 
 
 Is gently stealing forth. 
 
 'Tis like some high empyreal sphere, 
 
 Such influence fills the air 
 As sure on earth's wide confines nought 
 
 Could with this spot compare ! 
 
 Hush ! — heard'st thou not the warbling sweets 
 
 Of universal notes, 
 Like cherubs whispering, when their voice 
 
 Through rarest ether floats ? 
 
 Nay, Philo heard not, for his clay 
 
 Is base and ill refin'd ; 
 And Music speaks to those alone 
 
 Who have a tuneful mind ! 
 
 But wonder not if Heaven be here 
 
 To guard those earthly Pow'rs, 
 Or angels should for once descend 
 
 To such terrestrial bow'rs ! 
 
 Ye sylvan hills, where oft we ran, 
 
 Assume the smiling spring ! 
 Ye feather'd choirs devoutly join 
 
 Your various joys to sing ! 
 
ISO HER MAJESTY'S VISIT 
 
 Ye ancient deer, your gambols show 
 
 Sportive across the Park ; 
 And, o'er th' expansive waters, ye 
 
 Aquatic fowls embark. 
 
 Declining in the western skies, 
 
 Thou ev'ning sun illume, 
 With soft refulgent rays, the views 
 
 These beauteous scenes assume ! 
 
 Old Echo ! with thy mocking tongue, 
 Strange hoary woodland ghost ! 
 
 Resume the many nightly sounds 
 Thy mystic home can boast ! 
 
 The routy deer and wisdom-bird 
 
 Oft make creation ring ! 
 Or in these hallow'd groves, perchance, 
 
 Sweet Philomel may sing ! 
 
 But what in forest, park, or lawn 
 
 Shall vocalize the eve, 
 Still mimic, with untiring zeal, 
 
 Whate'er thou canst receive ! 
 
 Ye rural phantasies that charm 
 The ev'ning wand'rer's nerve, 
 
 Sooth and delight, as best ye can, 
 Those guests ye seldom serve ! 
 
 That Howard's Royal Friends may feel 
 
 An all-enchanting spell 
 "Welcome them to this Paradise, 
 
 And make them love it well ! 
 
 That when, on her intended tour, 
 
 Her Majesty goes hence, 
 She may of this old Castle home 
 
 Retain a grateful sense ! 
 
 And, on departure, may much joy 
 
 Amongst her smiles be seen, 
 Whilst honest Yorkshire shouts, " Long live 
 
 Victoria the Queen !" 
 
 Haste round, bright golden morn ! repeat 
 
 The bliss this ev'ning gave, 
 And fill those souls to pleasure given 
 
 With all delight they crave. 
 
TO CASTLE-HOWARD. 131 
 
 For thee, Priuce Consort, as thou would' st 
 
 Explore the Border scene, 
 For thine own sake, we wish thee sport, 
 
 And for our much-lov'd Queen ! 
 
 Then hie to Scotia, once again, 
 
 With the returning year ! 
 Away to Caledonia's hills, 
 
 To stalk the Highland deer. 
 
 Away across the mountain-tops, 
 
 Amongst the heather game ! 
 Or where the forest tempts thy gun 
 
 "With birds of beauteous fame ! 
 
 Both, with your nation's blessings, go 
 
 Where'er ye have design' d — 
 A happy, youthful Sov'reign Pair 
 
 As seldom we may find ! 
 
 SONG. 
 
 All hail ! Victoria the Fair ! — 
 
 Thy victories of love 
 Thy subjects glory much to share, 
 And their adhesion prove. 
 While the ravages of war 
 Send their desolations far, 
 O'er continental lands, 
 Proudly, nobly, still thy throne 
 On the People's love alone, 
 The firmest basis, stands. 
 
 Should foreign foes thy peace disturb, 
 
 Or Revolutions try, 
 Thy loyal hosts such wrath will curb, 
 And all their hate defy. 
 Heav'n thy duteous tribes will bless, 
 Shield them when hot dangers press, 
 
 And English rights defend. 
 Lady Chief ! Victoria, still 
 'Tis thy loyal Nation's will 
 To hail thee Queen and Friend ! 
 

 HEE MAJESTY'S VISIT, Ac. 
 
 Part II. 
 
 "Magnus ab intergo seclorum nascitur ordo. 
 Jam redit et Virgo : redeunt Saturnia regna : 
 Jam nova progenies coelo demittitur alto." "ViR. 
 
 (The great series of revolving years begins anew ; and n 
 returns the Virgin. ; the Saturnian reigns return, and a n 
 progeny descends from lofty Heaven.) 
 
 Illustrious Queen and Consort, hear 
 Your nation's solemn pray'r ; 
 
 Ev'n when intent on pleasure's call, 
 Deny us not your care. 
 
 For ye can make or mar our peace— 
 
 Our fate obeys your seal ; 
 Ye can envelop us in wo, 
 
 Or fortify our weal ! 
 
 'Tis true no hostile host we fear ; 
 
 We scorn a coward's flight ! 
 And, while we bear the English name, 
 
 We'll shun no equal fight ! 
 
 We ask not, then, your toil in wars, 
 To meet our marshall'd foe ; 
 
 Or, to beseech a tyrant's grace, 
 As our petitioners go. 
 
 Nor do we pray you spare our crimes, 
 But, with the two-edg'd sword, 
 
 Cleave to the inner soul the man 
 Who merits such reward. 
 
 Nor ask we ye to bribe, or buy 
 
 Our courtesies with gold ; 
 For we'll maintain your thi'one as high 
 
 As e'er it was of old. 
 
HER MAJESTY'S VISIT, &C. 133 
 
 Nor will we crave for flattering words, 
 
 Although your smiles we love, 
 And we will rush impetuous on 
 
 When ye but deign t' approve. 
 
 Repay then us (who love you so) 
 
 With this much gratitude ; 
 (Nor think the Bard too bold who thus 
 
 His stanzas dare intrude). 
 
 We have within your charge a Prince 
 
 Of genealogic fame ! 
 Your guardianship will form his youth — 
 
 His manhood we must claim. 
 
 This scion of illustrious blood 
 
 Is mighty England's hope ; 
 His prospect is to be our King ! 
 
 And with our foes to cope ! 
 
 We hail'd his birth with merry bells, 
 
 And songs of high delight ! 
 Britain, like a new-married spouse, 
 
 Thought him her only might ! 
 
 And many pious souls pour'd forth 
 
 Their heav'uly savour'd pra/i-, 
 Burden'd with special striving for 
 
 This new-born treasure's care ! 
 
 Heav'n, thus besieg'd, appears to yield 
 
 To grant the fond request ; 
 And hence with all auspicious good 
 
 Our Prince of Wales is blest ! 
 
 Nor weary is this national love ; 
 
 Its ardour, as at first, 
 Is ever ready, when 'tis meet, 
 
 In greater zeal to burst. 
 
 Then, if you possibly could lose 
 
 The private parent's heart ! 
 Still, for the sake of England, act 
 
 The Royal Teacher's part. 
 
 As England by you both is loVd, 
 
 Your true regard evince, 
 By rearing with incessant care 
 
 Your Son ! our hopeful Prince ! 
 
134 her majesty's visit 
 
 Teach him to know that wisdom is 
 
 A Ruler's chief support ; 
 That virtue ever will be found 
 
 A nation's strongest fort ! 
 
 Teach him that firm security- 
 Is founded on the rock 
 
 Of Truth, that's unimpeachable, 
 And fears no earthly shock ! 
 
 Teach him that lasting kingdoms stand 
 
 By the eternal might 
 Of Justice, held with even hand, 
 
 For all men's equal right. 
 
 Teach him, in all concerns through life 
 To fear the King of kings, 
 
 And look to Him as to the fount 
 Whence ev'ry glory springs ! 
 
 Your vast dominion daily feels 
 
 A growing load of care, 
 Thro' num'rous ills that ever strive 
 
 Its glory to impair. 
 
 With blood imbrued, the outer world 
 
 Completes its awful fate ; 
 And constant vigilance we need 
 
 To thwart its plotting hate ; 
 
 Lest error, like a mighty flood, 
 Should drench this happy realm, 
 
 And in the pit of moral death 
 Our greatness overwhelm. 
 
 Whilst in this nation demons dwell, 
 
 That gnaw it to the core, 
 Intent to tear its vitals out, 
 
 And revel on our gore. 
 
 Thus, deadly foes attack the throne 
 
 Of our apparent Heir ; 
 And 'tis your Royal charge for these 
 
 The Prince to well prepare. 
 
 The heaving mounts of public mind 
 
 That rise to present view 
 Demand another serious thought, 
 
 While passing in review. 
 
TO CASTLE-HOWARD. 135 
 
 All things assume a new array ! 
 
 Old Time has made his flight ! 
 His store is gone, save some tew rays 
 
 Of still congenial light ! 
 
 New visions more extensive rise 
 
 To circumfuse the earth ! 
 Society has travell'd through 
 
 An all-transforming birth ! 
 
 The old experience of the kings, 
 
 Or precepts of the sage, 
 Require reeoining now to suit 
 
 This metamorphos'd age ! 
 
 All pristine principles are hid 
 
 In such unheard-of schemes ; 
 Men find much trouble to descry 
 
 Their once familiar themes. 
 
 (Ev'n when the ghosts of former times 
 
 Come back to see their home, 
 Tliey Teen so little in this world, 
 
 They're ceasing now to roam !) 
 
 Hence have our senators much time 
 
 In new decrees to pass, 
 To keep the kingdom safe amidst 
 
 The huge fermenting mass. 
 
 And, like the onward era, we 
 
 Must daily, too, progress ; 
 For the last apex we shall gain 
 
 Seems difficult to guess ! 
 
 Methinks that from Creation's morn 
 
 A gleam of reason shot, 
 T' attend the changing path of man, 
 
 And light his varied lot ; 
 
 Sometimes in moral darkness hid, 
 
 When vice prevail'd awhile, 
 This sheen of mortals seem'd extinct, 
 
 And HeaVn refus'd to smile, 
 
 Till some redeeming wisdom, sent 
 
 To trim the flick'ring light, 
 Added each time a further ray 
 
 To dissipate the night. 
 
136 her majesty's visit 
 
 So, oft enlarg'd, this ancient gleam 
 
 Has grown a moral sun, 
 And in a circuit through the earth 
 
 A gen'rous course has run ! 
 
 Should now this radiance be eclips'd 
 
 By some inglorious pow'r, 
 How horrid would the influence be 
 
 That o'er mankind would low'r ! 
 
 Or, should th' Almighty Intellect 
 
 In one grand focus bind 
 All wisdom's rays, and join them back 
 
 To the primeval mind ; 
 
 Then would the world to bliss advance, 
 Safe with the light that's given, 
 
 And happy tribes on earth should join 
 To rival those in heaven ! 
 
 Hence, whether way the question turns, 
 
 'Tis such momentous fate 
 As should, in all well-order'd minds, 
 
 A deep concern create. 
 
 But chiefly those who govern realms 
 Need mark each new event, 
 
 And learn therefrom to gain new bliss, 
 Or evils to prevent ! 
 
 To thee, young glorious Prince of Wales, 
 
 This is essential Truth, 
 Wherewith thy mind should be imbu'd 
 
 E'en in its tender youth, 
 
 That, rightly train' d, like some stout oak 
 Of proud, unflinching form, 
 
 True principles in thee shall grow 
 Firmer by ev'ry storm. 
 
 Or, in the quiet days of peace, 
 
 Be thine the joy to heap 
 Such fruits within this happy isle 
 
 As nations seldom reap. 
 
 Our bliss and thine in union twin'd,. 
 
 Must flourish hand in hand ; 
 A truly happy King must rule 
 
 Over a happy land 1 
 
TO CASTLE-HOWARD. 137 
 
 How vast, ye Royal Parents, then, 
 
 Those themes ye should inspire 
 Into our Prince, to fill his soul 
 
 With patriotic fire ! 
 
 How vast the precepts ye should teach 
 
 Of universal skill, 
 "Whilst yet his youthful passions bend 
 
 Obedient to your wilL 
 
 To brighter fame than Philip bought, 
 
 He's bom ! We must provide 
 A more than ancient Stagyrite 
 
 To be our hero's guide ! 
 
 And yet, Eternal God, forbid 
 
 This Prince should early reign ; 
 But may his glorious Mother-Queen 
 
 Her office long retain ! 
 
 Till, through the lapse of many years, 
 
 Her Majesty hath given 
 Her energies to bless her land, 
 
 And slept away to heaven ! 
 
 Then, in a stately ripen'd prime 
 
 (When, too, the Bard's gone hence,) 
 
 This realm shall hail our Prince its king, 
 Its glory, its defence ! 
 
 Then, noble Prince, perpetuate 
 
 Our Royal Lineage ! 
 And to our British records add 
 
 Another brighter page ! 
 
 That future generations may 
 
 Oft praise the fruits of this ! 
 And England thrive and travel on 
 
 Through long-extended bliss ! 
 
 And may eternal Wisdom's Sun 
 
 Each day more brightly shine ! 
 Till human intellect climbs up 
 
 To join the Light Divine ! 
 
 Then the Millennium, often sought, 
 
 Shall greet the universe ! 
 And the pure happiness of heav'n 
 
 All earthly care disperse. 
 
 i2 
 
HEE MAJESTY'S VISIT, fo 
 
 Part III. 
 
 THE LOYAL FESTIVITIES AT CASTLE-HOWARD. 
 
 " Happy, thrice happy they, 
 "Whose graceful deeds have exemplary shone 
 Bound the gay precincts of a throne 
 With mild effective "beams." 
 
 Shenstoni 
 
 From Henderskelf the vapours rise, 
 Curling amongst the spires, 
 
 And token the old English joy 
 Of bright congenial fires. 
 
 The saVry perfumes tell the toil 
 
 Of culinary art, 
 Replete with all the varied skill 
 
 Experience can impart. 
 
 The bounteous Earl invites his guests 
 
 Of Royal British fame ; 
 And Princes, Lords, and Ladies fair 
 
 Of honourable name. 
 
 His verdant hills and dales supply 
 The fatted flocks and herds, 
 
 And many rural dames produce 
 Their fav'rite broods of birds. 
 
 Intent to aid their gen'rous Lord 
 With aught that's good and rare, 
 
 The husbandmen their purest stock 
 In rivalry prepare. 
 
 Well pleas'd to find his Lordship mark 
 
 The energy they use, 
 And well repaid for what his taste 
 
 May condescend to choose, 
 
her majesty's visit, &c. 139 
 
 Some with the fatted, snowy lamb, 
 
 Or choicest calf will vie ; 
 With bullock stout, or heifer fair, 
 
 Some more for favour try. 
 
 The cauldron boils, the spit revolves, 
 
 With flame the ovens roar, 
 And steamers fume, awhile the cooks 
 
 Trip nimbly o'er the floor. 
 
 So roast and boil'd are soon prepar'd, 
 
 And serv'd in neatest style, 
 When all the hungry nobles deign 
 
 To give a nat'ral smile ! 
 
 For such is nature's course of joy, 
 
 When health the system fills, 
 That food inspires a cheerful mind, 
 
 And rectifies our wills. 
 
 No vain magnificence presumes 
 
 To show its mean parade ; 
 Though equal to the high-born guests 
 
 Is preparation made. 
 
 This shows our nation's growing sense, 
 
 The wisdom of the great, 
 Who for superfluous goods exchange 
 
 A comforting estate. 
 
 Unpleasing now that table pride 
 
 Of gormandizing kings, 
 Which made them rival who could dine 
 
 On most unwonted things. 
 
 Such gen'rous food as cheers the blood 
 
 Rich people now advise ; 
 The choicest parts themselves may use, 
 
 The rest their house sur 
 
 Now well-fed oxen seven bled, 
 And five fat bucks were shot ; 
 
 Of heather game were us'd some scores, 
 Of poultry quite a lot ! 
 
 Some forty sheep, four splendid calves, 
 
 And many lambs were slain ; 
 Of which, when all our friends were gone, 
 
 But few did whole remain ! 
 
140 HER MAJESTY'S VISIT 
 
 Besides, were pastries richly made, 
 
 And moulded very neat, 
 And fruits of extra luscious juice 
 
 Most beautiful and sweet. 
 
 Of native oysters thousands came 
 
 In flavour much esteem'd, 
 And old and mellow cheerful wines 
 
 A nectar fountain stream'd. 
 
 Thus was the Princely Feast ordain'd 
 
 With wise refining taste ; 
 From all barbaric usage clear — 
 
 Plenty, devoid of waste. 
 
 Meanwhile, as the magnetic pole, 
 Besides the common cheer, 
 
 Our Queen attracts the joyous mood 
 In eVry soul that's here. 
 
 None can be melancholy where 
 Such Queen of virtue sits, 
 
 Or act the cynic round the board 
 Of these resplendent wits. 
 
 Here, by Her Majesty, is plac'd, 
 Tall, manly, fair, and bland, 
 
 That fine, accomplish'd, favourite Prince 
 From the Teutonic Land, — 
 
 Albert, the military chief 
 
 And patron of the arts, 
 By birth and training well prepar'd 
 
 To act those various parts. 
 
 And here's the pride of English blood, 
 Suffus'd with virtue's smile — 
 
 The star of British noblemen, 
 The honour'd Earl Carlisle ! 
 
 The Graces love his gen'rous soul, 
 
 And consecrate his voice 
 By all the charms of eloquence 
 
 That are the Muses' choice ! 
 
 For, like the loveliest summer fiow'rs, 
 His words are sweet and rich ; 
 
 His speech hath such harmonious chords 
 As really to bewitch. 
 
TO CASTLE-HOWARD. 141 
 
 His gentle influence where he dwells 
 
 With peace the country fills, 
 And round his princely mansion bliss 
 
 Like honey-dew distils. 
 
 Kind charity constrains his soul 
 
 To ev'ry good intent ; 
 To ease humanity of care 
 
 His thoughts are wholly bent. 
 
 His lib'ral hand relieves the poor 
 
 Where grievous want appears, 
 And all who know him wish my Lord 
 
 Many and happy years. 
 
 Nor yet is this a flatt'rer's praise, 
 
 Or flourish of the verse, 
 For were my theme from numbers free, 
 
 More worth I should rehearse. 
 
 'Tis but the slightest echo giVn 
 
 To England's long acclaim, 
 That daily lauds its Earl Carlisle, 
 
 Morpeth and Howard's fame. 
 
 The Countess Dowager is here, 
 
 In venerable years 
 Her loyal joy amid her guests 
 
 Conspicuously appears. 
 
 The Lady Mary charms the board 
 
 With almost grace divine ; 
 Her virtues are the country's boast, 
 
 Where gloriously they shine. 
 
 The noble Duchess Sutherland 
 
 Supports her lofty birth ; 
 And Dover, Lascelles, Grower, and Grey 
 
 Are guests of special worth. 
 
 And Lord and Lady Peversham, 
 
 Of large and rich domain ; 
 And Dufferin and Clifden Lords 
 
 Augment the Royal train. 
 
 Sir John, the Hackness Baronet, 
 
 Of Johnstone's favour'd name — 
 A kind, humane, and bounteous knight. 
 
 Brings honourable fame. 
 
142 her majesty's visit 
 
 His sylvan hills, and crystal streams, 
 
 And fine romantic dales, 
 Are to the Muse well-known, and there 
 
 A wealthy joy prevails. 
 
 Here's Prescott, from America, 
 
 Whose rich historic page 
 Augments the literary store 
 
 Of this important age. 
 
 Seymour, the brave Lord Mayor of York, 
 Old Ebor's fame maintains ; 
 
 And Leeman, spirited and free, 
 Th' esteem of many gains. 
 
 Sir Tatton Sykes throws off his age, 
 
 And sporting corduroy, 
 To dance his merry, loyal freaks 
 
 As buxom as a boy ! 
 
 Scarbro', inur'd to thoughts refin'd, 
 
 Confirms her pristine zeal, 
 And greets Her Majesty with love, 
 
 Pledg'd by her borough seal. 
 
 Her Doctor Harland, justly priz'd 
 
 For philosophic skill, 
 She sends to bear the token forth, 
 
 And urge her loyal will ! 
 
 And Ladies, Lords, and Gentlemen, 
 
 Of other honour'd names 
 To the descriptive Poet's pen 
 
 Present undoubted claims. 
 
 But with th' omitted Friends, the Bard 
 Must for their pardon sue ; 
 
 He had no means to know them all, 
 Or to record their due. 
 
 Virtue and Modesty prevail'd, 
 And Reason crown'd the Feast ; 
 
 And thus the common joys of man 
 By Wisdom are increas'd. 
 
 Nor yet was glory temporal 
 
 The only object sought ; 
 But to inspire her heavnly breath 
 
 Fair Piety was brought. 
 
TO CASTLE-HOWARD. 143 
 
 For England's Primate comes to give 
 
 The sacerdotal grace — 
 Ebor's Archbishop, Musgrave, reigns 
 
 Right worthy of his place. 
 
 And near him stands, in Bishop's right, 
 
 Longley, of Bipon's See, 
 Held famous for his classic taste, 
 
 And pious, kind, and free. 
 
 In " holy orders," many more 
 
 Victoria honour'd here, 
 By joining with them round the board 
 
 To feast on Howard's cheer. 
 
 Her Majesty then pleas'd to bless 
 
 Young children with a thought, 
 And twelve of Howard's village schools 
 
 Around the Queen were brought. 
 
 A feast of harmony, prepar'd 
 
 By Chatsworth's thrilling band, 
 Was wholly stay'd, to mark the stroke 
 
 Of Death's unflinching hand ! 
 
 The slaying angel's ruthless might 
 
 For no distinction cares ; 
 All grades of men, all powers, and names 
 
 He in his triumph bears. 
 
 Louis, the once renown'd of France, 
 
 Has felt the mortal-sword, 
 And to his friends our noble guests 
 
 Their sympathy accord. 
 
 Hence, not a single revel note 
 
 Presum'd to mar the scene ; 
 A modest mirth alone prevail' d 
 
 Around our virtuous Queen. 
 
 'Tis thus the gentler virtues rule 
 
 With meekly soft'ning sway, 
 That must dispel those sterner traits 
 
 Which fighting kings display. 
 
 Happy the nation where the rage 
 
 Of fierce emotion dies ; 
 And Peace, Humanity* and Love 
 
 The Monarch daily tries. 
 
144 her majesty's visit, <fec. 
 
 So much akin to Heav'n is Love, 
 
 War so allied to Hell, 
 That all rejoice whose lot is cast 
 
 Where Peace consents to dwell. 
 
 Thus is eternal Truth fulfill' d. 
 When Crowns her right maintain, 
 
 And by the rules of pious might 
 Alone attempt to reign. 
 
 0, that the radicles of Truth 
 Would take effective root, 
 
 Till all the tribes of men are fed 
 On her celestial fruit. 
 
 'Tis hopeful now the time is nigh 
 When Truth shall gain the sway, 
 
 And Bangs and Queens of ev'ry land 
 Her kind behests obey ! 
 
 #*|? • 
 
HEE MAJESTY'S VISIT, &c. 
 
 Part IV. 
 
 'Tis not a troop of -well-appointed guards 
 Create a Monarch. — not a purple robe 
 Dy'd in the people's blood : not all the crowns 
 Or dazzling tiars that bend about the head, 
 Tho' gilt with sunbeams and set round with stars." 
 
 "Watts. 
 
 Now, may it please your Majesty, 
 
 Is this no grateful scene, 
 When crowds, in such sequester'd place, 
 
 Thus loyally convene ? 
 
 In this wide county lives a race 
 
 Of stout and hardy swains, 
 Who for their country's weal would drain 
 
 Of blood their deepest veins. 
 
 No light enerving arts have they 
 
 To mar their sturdy toil ; 
 But patiently, through longest days, 
 
 They cultivate their soil. 
 
 Yon summit of the Yorkshire Wolds, 
 
 Of late a barren hill, 
 Attests the peasants' husbandry, 
 
 And tasteful rural skill ! 
 
 Many a wide-expanded plain 
 
 The laughing produce yields 
 Of crops that fill their patient hands 
 
 In ripen' d corny fields. 
 
 Amid the num'rous verdant dales 
 
 They cut the fragrant mead, 
 And dress the tufty pastures well 
 
 Whereon their cattle feed. 
 
146 her majesty's visit. 
 
 And e'en the moorland wilderness 
 
 Begins to bless the care 
 Of some, whose very hardest frames, 
 
 Can its privations bear. 
 
 Though rude are native Yorkshiremen, 
 
 And plain in ev'ry cause ! 
 (They're rude, indeed, where much they love I 
 
 But ruder with their foes !) 
 
 Yet should Her Majesty require 
 
 Some day a valiant host, 
 Perhaps this hard, unpolish'd race 
 
 Would gain her special boast ! 
 
 So, then, connive at what in them 
 
 May seem the most uncouth, 
 And view their straight, unfawning modes 
 
 As simple native truth. 
 
 See how from all the country round 
 
 They start at early dawn 
 To pay devotion to the Queen 
 
 Who heir'd their nation's throne. 
 
 Thousands on this auspicious day 
 
 Assume their better graces, 
 Till Howard's Park is densely fill'd 
 
 With hearty smiling faces. 
 
 That Sun as beautifully shines 
 
 As ever, since on high 
 The voice Omnipotent call'd forth 
 
 His radiance in the sky. 
 
 Abroad the Royal Party drives, 
 
 To mark the gorgeous views 
 O'er woodland hills, along the plains, 
 
 Or through the avenues. 
 
 The pawing, snorting steeds advance — 
 
 The Sutherland fine greys — 
 And Earl Carlisle's high-temper'd stud 
 
 Of " blood and Cleveland bays !" 
 
 And many more sagacious beasts 
 
 Display their nat'ral pride : 
 Some draw the noble and the fair ! 
 
 On some the horsemen ride ! 
 
TO CASTLE-HOWARD. 147 
 
 A loud applause runs through the lines 
 
 Where'er the party moves, 
 And graciously our Sovereign shows 
 
 How she our will approves. 
 
 But these delightful, blithsome hours 
 
 Appear too swiftly gone, 
 And soon Her Majesty prepares 
 
 To push her journey on. 
 
 To take, may be, their last farewell — 
 
 A gen'rous parting glance, 
 Again the loyal multitudes 
 
 With ardent zeal advance. 
 
 Yon mansion-door which fronts the north 
 
 Falls back to yield the way, 
 And all her path with crimson cloth 
 
 Is carpeted so gay ! 
 
 Then, usher'd by the Noble Earl, 
 
 Her Majesty steps forth, 
 To leave the princely Howard House, 
 
 And journey further north. 
 
 The Royal Guests the chariot mount, 
 
 Devoid of pomp or pride, 
 And fine dragoons, in order good, 
 
 Array on either side. 
 
 Through loud huzzas the courser snorts 
 
 That bears the Earl Carlisle ; 
 He and his brethren lead the way 
 
 In true baronial style ! 
 
 Off, too, the dashing charioteers 
 
 Let fly each ready horse, 
 And to the Railway Station soon 
 
 They run a rapid course ! 
 
 More thousands here again are met 
 
 To bid the Queen adieu ! 
 To cheer her off with brisk applause, 
 
 And take a parting view ! 
 
 The gorgeous engine, strong and free, 
 
 Puffs out and fumes amain — 
 So loath to stand that scarce she can 
 
 Her swelling steam restrain. 
 
148 her majesty's visit 
 
 Then steadily along the curves 
 
 The locomotive starts, 
 And quickly soon along the line 
 
 She like the lightning darts ! 
 
 Good bye, fair Lady ! — fare ye well ! 
 
 Perhaps 'twill be for ever 
 That distance from our rustic gaze 
 
 Your Majesty will sever ! 
 
 Perhaps no more these woodland heights 
 
 Your Majesty may view ; 
 Or, through these undulating vales, 
 
 Your royal course pursue ! 
 
 Perhaps no more our rural tribes 
 
 May see your welcome face, 
 That in its gladd'ning smile hath brought 
 
 Such pleasure to this place ! 
 
 But whatsoe'er of vai-ying life 
 
 The unknown future bears, 
 Or to the Queen or subject brings 
 
 Successive joys or cares. 
 
 No matter what the Fates decree, 
 
 Or Providence ordains, 
 So long as Virtue is our aim, 
 
 And Truth our life sustains ; 
 
 So long as the fraternal bond 
 
 Of holy purpose draws 
 The subject and the sov'reign pow'r 
 
 To one good common cause ; 
 
 So long as moral rectitude 
 
 Directs our national course, 
 To give our constitution^ rights 
 
 Their whole essential force ; 
 
 Even so long will heav'n-born might 
 
 Infuse throughout our Isle 
 The health of nations, stout and fair, 
 
 To make Britannia smile ! 
 
 Let sceptic Revolutionists 
 
 Sneer at our loyal views, 
 Or with the jeer of " English slaves" 
 
 Our constancy abuse. 
 
TO CASTLE-HOWARD. 149 
 
 No menial slaves our Fathers were, 
 
 But men of martial pride, 
 Who through the nations ev'rywhere 
 
 Their enemies defied ! 
 
 And we're degen'rate sons indeed, 
 
 If we deny the cause 
 Wherein they sacrific'd their blood 
 
 To seal their cherish' d laws. 
 
 They rear'd a courteous Monarchy, 
 
 Because they thought it best, 
 Whereby their rights are well maintain' d — 
 
 Their grievances redress' d. 
 
 Then let anarchic nations howl 
 
 Like wolves about their prey, 
 While rending in their rebel feuds 
 
 Their might and bliss away. 
 
 For us we yet will court the rule 
 
 Of kind Monarchal sway, 
 As when, on patriarchal modes, 
 
 The youths the sire obey I 
 
 The charge of cowardice reverts 
 
 On those who make the jeer ; 
 For Englishmen respect their pow'rs — 
 
 They love, but scorn to fear ! 
 
 The coward scarce could emanate 
 
 From such unyielding might, 
 As our forefathers often proVd 
 
 Could struggle, bleed, and fight ! 
 
 But this, the canine vanity 
 
 Of sturdy flesh and bone, 
 Should give no pride to man ! — it adds 
 
 Poor glory to a throne ! 
 
 Be ours the greater victory 
 
 Of high intelligence ! 
 Of vast superior moral strength, 
 
 And more exalted sense. 
 
 Be ours the dignity to strive, 
 
 By scientific light, 
 And all the peaceful arts of life 
 
 To fix our nation's might. 
 
150 HER MAJESTY'S VISIT, &C. 
 
 Be ours the most ennobling course, 
 The path of Truth to seek, 
 
 And, like the famous Hebrew chief, 
 Though mighty, yet be meek. 
 
 For to endure the Despot's rule 
 Our tempers could not bear ! 
 
 A Tyrant o'er the English Realm 
 Would find but slender fare ! 
 
 Yet different far our feelings rise 
 When virtuous Monarchs reign ! 
 
 They find us ready to obey, 
 And our affections gain ! 
 
 Hence we will rally round our Throne, 
 From choice and pure delight ; 
 
 We, Englishmen, could scarcely form 
 A commonwealth aright ! 
 
 Then go, fair Lady, cheerly blithe, 
 
 Of English love secure ! 
 A love that's free from selfish guile, 
 
 And in affection pure ! 
 
 Still tread the path that virtue marks 
 With firm, unfalt'ring feet ! 
 
 On ! — to a nobler Kingdom lead, 
 Where we desire to meet ! 
 
 HeaVn will asist a good intent, 
 
 Or aid a righteous cause ! 
 And bear the just in triumph on, 
 
 Though men and fiends oppose ! 
 
 So shall we live secure and free, 
 Honour'd by all mankind, 
 
 Whilst we with glorious pow'r maintain 
 The empire of the Mind ! 
 
 Then, 0, celestial Truth, cement 
 
 Our Nation's social ties ! 
 Till Wisdom guides us to the Realms 
 
 Where Virtue gains her prize ! 
 
MEDITATIONS 
 
 ON TH3 
 
 MOEAL AND SOCIAL TEMPEBAMENT 
 
 OF 
 
 THE TIMES. 
 
 '' Te will surely say unto me this proverb, Physician, heal 
 thyself."— St. Luke, iv. 23. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 England's Genius— Of Enterprise, Pleasure, Commerce — The 
 Ancient Powers — Danger of Prosperity — Modern Humanity 3 
 Religion, and Morality. 
 
 Ye brighter moods of purity and bliss, 
 That once would deign to cheer my mundane path, 
 But oft neglected, to my certain cost, 
 Now retribute me by your cold reserve ; 
 For, as Laplandish winter freezes down 
 The summer-bloom, so ye have sorely cut 
 The aspirations of my youthful soul ; 
 And, long abraded by the blunting schemes, 
 In baser worldly principles beset, 
 The glory of my virtue feels to yield 
 Submission unto meaner purposes : 
 Return and cheer my sinking energies ! 
 Retune my broken chords of Nature's harp ; 
 Inspire my will with conscious rectitude ; 
 
152 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 
 
 Your influence lend ; all genial aid bestow, 
 And fill with virtue my aspiring song ! 
 Aid me to sing my nation's wond'rous spirit, 
 The lev'n of multitudes, that works the mass 
 Into a thousand varied, magic forms — 
 The universal schemes which permeate 
 Our various circles of society. 
 
 As active and elastic as the air 
 Is England's free-born genius ; bold and firm 
 To ransack all the known and unknown lands ; 
 To bear dominion forth ; then, laden rich 
 With honied wealth from ev'ry clime, return, 
 And build our country up in glorious deeds ! 
 
 Yet England's metamorphos'd ; much she's chang'd 
 From Nature's wisdom of the olden times ! 
 What once the Poet sang is now no more — 
 Her brave heroic Chivalry and Love ; 
 Her Hospitality, the country's boast ; 
 The splendour of her ancient Baron Halls, 
 Where Minstrelsy and Plenty hail'd the guests, 
 Or rich or poor, who wander' d near the spot ; 
 Affrighted now by swollen multitudes, 
 That would consume the goods of all the Lords, 
 She gravely shuts her door, and keeps her stores 
 To feed her fast-increasing progeny, 
 Who fill her home with blessed hungry mouths. 
 No more the hall is throng'd with vassal serfs, 
 Who fear their lord, and on his bounty live ! 
 No more the rural chieftain heads the sports, 
 Or calls the village to his bounteous board ! 
 
 Now, in America, in Russia, France, 
 Or China, or the Indies, in the staff 
 Of Fortune's courtiers, see the charter'd great 
 Their myriad schemes of aggrandizement push ; 
 See now the Peers imbibe the trading zest ! 
 While Merchants with the Noblemen compete 
 For wealth and honours, pow'r and costly state ! 
 Awhile the amiable country 'Squire, 
 
TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 153 
 
 Who heirs some pulse of old simplicity, 
 Outstripp'd by overpow'ring vanity 
 Of show — the moving spirit of the day — 
 With little he can do, though good at heart, 
 Hath oft to scourge old Charity away, 
 Who privately doth question him in soul. 
 
 Men now to lofty speculations fly 
 Till all their surplus cash is swallow'd up ; 
 We mar kind Nature's sweet and guileless worth ; 
 Even the poor scarce know their pristine course ; 
 And lords with lords, and great ones with the great 
 Maintain exclusive rights of etiquette, 
 Wherein the sainted Fathers of our race 
 Would be so strange as ne'er to rise in fame ! 
 
 Yet bless'd with Liberty, our nation grows, 
 Directed by the prudence of the wise, 
 Unheeding primitive felicity, 
 Ourselves fight on, and guard our civil rights, 
 Love and obey our Rulers and our Laws. 
 
 These are portentous times, when Peace hath drawn 
 Th' inventive genius of the people forth, 
 To rear and teach the Sciences and Arts — 
 Our country's boon, the sun of gen'ral joy ; 
 When thriving commerce swells the spreading sails 
 Of richly-laden fleets, stor'd with the wealth, 
 The produce of all countries ; now, when gold 
 Makes men run riot after fancied good — 
 Incites their zealous hands to rend the earth, 
 And tear her bowels out without remorse. 
 Our rival tribes, inebriate for gain, 
 O'errun each other in the hot pursuit, 
 And, contrary to what their nature taught, 
 Inflict commercial ruin, blast the hope, 
 The trade and being of the man, at once, 
 Who by too feeble strength obstructs their path ; 
 Exulting up the pinnacle of joy, 
 They push their prosp'ring schemes beyond the pow'r 
 Of human wit to rule, and, the reverse 
 
154 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 
 
 Our trading Kings encount'ring, are in turn 
 Low levell'd with the humble, wond'ring throng. 
 Our too inflated bubbles burst, and oft 
 Th' excessive efforts work themselves the cure, 
 Though oft ingulf th' unwary by surprise. 
 This overgrown prosperity hath sway'd 
 Her boasted sceptre o'er our smiling land, 
 And alter'd things in aspects and in names ; 
 Hath moulded manners into different forms ; 
 Hath wrought out many strange alliances, 
 Antipathies, and mingled bliss with strife, 
 Estrang'd the nat'ral will, for good inclin'd, 
 Into contentions, vice, and selfishness ; 
 Hath made anew our old commercial deeds, 
 And chang'd the essences of social life. 
 
 And yet how long triumphant ? yet how fax- 
 Shall Britain's wonderful dominion grow ? 
 How long shall all the nations pour thee forth, 
 The Cornucopia on thy greedy lap ? 
 How long shall Seas confess thy sov'reign sway, 
 And bend their waves obeisant to thy Fleets ? 
 
 Old famous Troy, the seat of Love and War, 
 O'erburden'd by delicious joys, hath sunk, 
 And all her pleasure, pride, and wealth intomb'd. 
 
 Nor long could Babylon maintain her sway 
 Of luxury, refinement, ease, and pow'r ! 
 Her site annihilated from the earth, 
 Now nothing but her name is left to point 
 Our mem'ry like some warning finger-post, 
 To steer our course thro' whirlpools, rocks, and shoals 
 That threaten danger to our stately bark. 
 
 And Greece, in wisdom, taste, philosophy, 
 The chief of ancient times, asunder split, 
 Deep sunk to barbarism, is now the sport 
 Of eVry vice and ev'ry cruel foe. 
 And Rome, the nest of insolence and pride, 
 The scourge of nations and the blight of peace, 
 
TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 
 
 Herself consum'd by villany and lust, 
 
 Fell by the Gothic hands that she had scorn'd 
 
 As savages unworthy of regard ! 
 
 Then poor Napoleon, in himself deceiv'd, 
 And by the Moscow enemies outschem'd, 
 A prey to nat'i-al elements, succumb'd 
 And suffer'd loss he scarcely could retrieve, 
 Until, at Waterloo, he danc'd that morn 
 To see, as he couceiv'd, within his claw, 
 The foe he meant that day to sacrifice — 
 And thence be free from all opposing pow'r, 
 To mount the throne of fame, to rule what lands 
 He should admit as worthy of his sway, 
 But dash all else beyond the reach of hope : 
 Yet, frail himself, as other creatures are, 
 He fell before his victim, and was doom'd. 
 
 So may some Northern Bear anon descend, 
 And tear our Bull to fragments, or some wretch, 
 Or some mischance betray him, unawares, 
 Till well ingulf d, his sturdy strength be vain. 
 
 I would not be a traitor, crying peace, 
 Or sing in lullabies the funeral ode, 
 To sooth my nation into moral death. 
 Nay, rather, though ungracious, let me act 
 The censor's part, and, probing well each wound, 
 Expose whate'er is noxious, that herself 
 May stay the growth of threat'ning future ill, 
 And so escape all overthrowing vice, 
 To rule triumphant by the pow'rs of Truth. 
 
 Prosperity hath curse of graver dye 
 Than ever deep adversity prescribes ; 
 For it unbridles man, and sets him forth, 
 Through all the world's extravagances, wild, 
 And makes him mate to crimes he ne'er had known. 
 It loosens the restrain' d, and sets away, 
 Like a wild horse along the forest glade, 
 The cautious, but to sacrifice his 
 And barter ruin for his partial bliss, 
 
156 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 
 
 0, marvellous Prosperity ! ho w long ? 
 
 How far ? how wide wilt thou extend thy reign, 
 
 Before annihilation seals thy fate ? 
 
 Yet, Father of the worlds, protect this Eealm 
 From all the folly of mistaken sense ! 
 And may we thus, comparatively blest, 
 For ages yet unborn remain secure ! 
 May no ungracious fiend betray our hopes, 
 Nor false pretender circumvent our peace ! 
 
 Ye sons of speculation, ease your toil ! 
 Lean on your oars awhile, nor tempt the gale 
 To drive you on the rough, unfriendly rocks ! 
 Hold on, ye wonder-working giants, hold ! 
 Ye, as with talismanic spell, control 
 The elements, and glory in your might ! 
 Yet hold ! lest some reverse of fate, should dash 
 Your myriad schemes to deep oblivion, 
 And ours should end a fallen, bankrupt Isle ! 
 
 Not that we would deter, or bring you down 
 One atom in the scale of consequence, 
 Or once subtract a fraction from your might ; 
 But would beseech you, lest the growth of fame, 
 Or glimm'ring beauties of success, should slay 
 The kindlier feelings which your nature gave ; 
 Lest virtue's semblance should from you be riv'n, 
 And cank'ring care consume your moral worth ; 
 Till God resigns us wholly to our lust — 
 A fearful curse, which far out-equals death ! 
 
 Humanity has in our time become 
 So fashionable, fanciful, and gay 
 A maid, that her old mother, stable, grave, 
 Can scarcely recognize her daughter's face 
 For fancy dress, and curls, and sportive airs. 
 Good old Morality lies at her feet, 
 Bleeding, unconscious, fainting unto death, 
 Awhile her pious children stand aloof, 
 Or give rebukes, respectful, slight, and cool. 
 
TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 157 
 
 Now, if you offer schemes of worldly gain, 
 Religion into morals cuts her dress, 
 And seeming righteousness dissolves her creed 
 Like the last remnant of the driven snow 
 Perspiring by the hedge, beneath the sun, 
 When sportive Spring is tempted forth to slay 
 Old Winter, and his purifying works. 
 Stern moral Winter hath no love with men ; 
 They still prefer the summer gleam of joy, 
 Though much we need the chilling, sweeping blast, 
 To cleanse the mental atmosphere from filth ; 
 Its agues and its fevers parry off. 
 And all pestiferous vices disinfect. 
 
 Come, then, thou spirit-rectifier! come! 
 Erect thy standard high in our domain ! 
 Thy banners wave o'er all the people far, 
 And with some wholesome purge remove our dross. 
 
158 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 England's Example to the Nations — Her Mediations and Pro- 
 tections—Of Conscience, Virtue, Religion, National Instability- 
 Hypocrisy ; its prevalence — Human Principle — The Prosperous 
 Man. 
 
 Old England now hath vauntingly become, 
 Through the benignity of Providence, 
 A sample to the nations, pious, firm, 
 And noble in her deeds, parading truth 
 As the whole purpose of her entity, 
 From whence, if but one member seems to stir 
 Contrary to her rules of liberty, 
 The universal reprobating voice 
 Calls the erratic wand'rer to account, 
 And glues the whole, the coward and the brave, 
 The peasant and the knight, in compact close, 
 Like an invulnerable phalanx, strong 
 To guard determin'd all her ancient claims ; 
 To breathe expansive charity abroad, 
 That, like celestial dew, cheers into bloom 
 The native virtue of the human soul. 
 And, like a good old dame, Britannia whips, 
 When kindness fails, to turn her children right ; 
 She sends her Light to nations far remote, 
 To lure the darken'd heathen from his fate ; 
 Her mediations, with decisive hands, 
 She gives contending nations for their good ; 
 With energetic virtue quells the wars, 
 And grows a goddess over mighty realms — 
 A nurse to all the lovely hopes of man. 
 
 Yet much of this is surface piety — 
 A fashionable parody on truth — 
 A hollow reed, with very slender root, 
 
TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 159 
 
 As its unfruitfulness too clearly proves. 
 
 We, like the ancient Israelites, reflect 
 
 But partially the bliss that Heav'n bestows, 
 
 And interweave therewith our subtle arts, 
 
 Whose frail integrity but ill endure 
 
 The giddy pinnacles of vain success, 
 
 Or stern reverse of our peculiar schemes. 
 
 Unthank'd, Britannia's bold usurping hand 
 Oft falls unpleasing to the stubborn throng, 
 That grows unconscious of the gen'ral weal, 
 Through anxious yearning after joys unborn, 
 Yet unattain'd and unattainable, 
 Save in th' anticipations of desire. 
 
 Then, daily driven by oppressive pow'rs, 
 By disappointed hopes and interests foil'd, 
 The multitudes degenerate in grace ; 
 By their perversions mar the cream of life, 
 And change their loves to jealousy and war. 
 Integrity dissimulation courts ; 
 Men's honour to hypocrisy is turn'd, 
 And the whole country on contention's fires 
 Finds that her bliss as in a cauldron boils ; 
 All ebullition, jarring tumult, fume, 
 Dissolving soft the sinews of our strength ; 
 While the old hag of Discord daily chants 
 Her machinations o'er the stirring mass, 
 Intent to prosper turpitude and vice, 
 And charm with venom all the good and brave 
 Who dare to thwart the errors of the day. 
 
 A nice, accommodating, easy thing 
 Has, now-a-days, the popular conscience grown ; 
 She's like an India-rubber slipper, made 
 To stretch, to suit the size of youthful feet, 
 And alter daily with their form and compass. 
 Hence this good mistress of our moral deeds 
 Can serve all wishes, thoughts, conveniences, 
 And ways. The pivot of her balances 
 She shifts to poise her beam, that either scale. 
 
160 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 
 
 Of sin or grace, may seem of proper weight. 
 
 Yet by this guardian we are taught to live, 
 
 And form our being and morality ; 
 
 The ways and doctrines of our varied life 
 
 By her are governed. Like the new steeFd knife 
 
 The youthful mind is keen and free of edge — 
 
 The conscience clear and sensative ; but soon, 
 
 With crosses, cares, and probes, and feelings maim'd., 
 
 Sensation almost dies of callous wounds ; 
 
 Or, like some torpid thing, is void, and fails 
 
 To tell of coming evils ; or, at most, 
 
 Is feeble in her warnings, or escapes. 
 
 Conscience has more new phases than the Moon, 
 According to the educated scheme, 
 Or will or likes, or dislikes of the man. 
 Some measure morals tight by inch or foot ;. 
 Some, not so narrow, stretch to yards or ells ; 
 While some rush forth in conscientious leagues. 
 Hence is our sicken'd virtue wond'rous weak — 
 Scarce able to crawl on ; oft wanting pills 
 From holy doctors, or the boluses 
 That senates, judges, or the lawyers make, 
 To cleanse her vicious habits, purge her filth, 
 And keep her in restraint. Obtuse and false 
 In all perceptions ; void and lifeless cold 
 In all her energies, she scarce exists ; 
 Or, living, seems to only breathe of death ! 
 
 Ye trust to Virtue ! Heaven save you, then f . 
 For sure is this a frail commodity 
 As ever stood the market ! * * * 
 
 'Tis wonderful to see good, virtuous folks, 
 Of gay attire, all lovely, trim, and neat ; 
 So honest in their doctrine, you might think 
 They could not be of this world, or be made 
 Of dust, like other men ; or e'en possess, 
 Or feel, or know, in body or in mind, 
 One particle of what the wicked do ; 
 Whilst inwardly these fine angelic saints 
 
TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES, 161 
 
 Are oft most nauseous, till they even stink 
 In rottenness of vice and villany ! 
 
 Too oft Religion falls the sport of times — 
 A catching-penny sort of sneaking game, 
 That answers very well in wintry storms, 
 And steril portions of our chequer'd path 
 Through clouded life, the moral frost and snow ; 
 But does not suit in spring or summer days, 
 When worldly prospects charm the sickly eye. 
 She has been used as lucre and a trade ! 
 Shame ! shame on such abuse of heaVnly light ! 
 
 No wonder that our happiness is frail, 
 And evil has for ev'ry day some care, 
 Some toil, some unexpected pending war, 
 When we had dream'd ourselves the most secure. 
 
 Then view those faults, nor fear to cleanse the wound s, 
 That healing salve may work a timely cure ! 
 He were a false physician who would spare 
 Till the disease consum'd our vitals up, 
 Ev'n in the bosom of pretended health. 
 
 Hypocrisy, with double-featur'd face, 
 Has grown to be a gen'ral ruling crime. 
 This all-pervading passion of the times 
 Sets up herself, with impudence aud smiles, 
 In ev'ry nook and ev'ry public path. 
 Our planet's fill'd with practis'd hypocrites, 
 Who spin about one flimsy webs of praise — 
 Of adulation, stuff 'd with pious incense 
 Of precious savour, such as makes us think 
 We must be gods, in spite of better sense. 
 With sanctified pretensions they will coax 
 And gain you over to their wishes ! Ah ! 
 But when they've once encompass'd ye, how chang'd ! 
 How they'll thumbscrew and pinch you! how they'll lie, 
 And swear you out of truth ! how they will mock ! 
 Appealing to your conscience, while their own 
 Is false as midnight vision, base as dung, 
 Brutish to man, and mocking gracious Heaven ! 
 
 p2 
 
162 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 
 
 Hypocrisy, the fashionable vice, 
 Is recognis'd by most, to palliate 
 Or hide their crime and lust, and, in th' esteem 
 Of other men, to build their characters, 
 When good foundations are not, nor can be, 
 Unless their nature all were carved and purg'd, 
 Piecemeal, with salt, to cleanse their loathsome souls ! 
 
 This passion can at will, chameleon-like, 
 Adapt its aspects to the dyes and hues 
 Of all surrounding pleasures, profits, schemes, 
 And good things to be wish'd for ; mirror vice, 
 It takes the semblance, instantaneously, 
 Of all approaching objects, 'specially those 
 Who are for victims mark'd ; with duplex aim 
 It tries to cheat th' omniscient eye of G-od ; 
 And if there be a crime whose pardon hath 
 A more reluctant passage than the rest 
 It surely must be this, the crime of crimes ! 
 This daring, this most persevering crime ! 
 
 And yet, before our youth set out for life, 
 They must be taught the lessons of this vice ; 
 They must give up their native probity, 
 And take dissimulation in exchange ! 
 No odds how vile our nature may be thought, 
 'Tis not enough defil'd for these our days. 
 Nature works best where least she is controll'd 
 By common motives of society ; 
 For yet there's some stern principle in man, 
 Innate and undismay'd by earthly rage, 
 That climbs the mounts of vice and ills of time ; 
 That fords the seas of strife, smiles at the rack, 
 Disdains all pow'rs of torment, scorns at death : 
 That curbs the wickedness of wilful men, 
 And tunes to heav'nly harmony and truth. 
 By this the feeble wise maintain their stand 
 Against the might of proud and wayward fools. 
 But this the youth to the dissembling vice 
 Must yield, and be a votary of lies ! 
 
TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 1G3 
 
 For the unrighteous prosperous man connives ; 
 
 He reckons up his cash, and learns his sons 
 
 To be expert in all commercial rules ; 
 
 And, now and then, a lesson interlards 
 
 With bits of caution, prudence, and the like. 
 
 The oldest is his heir, so overgrown 
 
 And heady, none must dare offend his will ; 
 
 The rest are lawyers, doctors, merchantmen. 
 
 Or whatsoe'r they choose ; except by chance 
 
 *Some one has smaller wit and lesser sense — 
 
 A greater simpleton than all the rest — 
 
 Who makes no choice to fix his future lot ; 
 
 His friends then interpose, and teach him years 
 
 Of dactyl, spondee, and iambic verse, 
 
 Prom Greek and Latin classics, till he's grown 
 
 Both old and large enough to be a Priest ; 
 
 Then left at last to trim his native sense, 
 
 To suit his pulpit, he must preach a creed 
 
 To make himself seem virtuous and good, 
 
 And fill his gown with credit and renown. 
 
 Thus is it that some wolves and hornets rise, 
 
 To sting and worry down the Church with schism ; 
 
 To make her scornful in the eyes of men, 
 
 And fill the righteous faithful souls with wo. 
 
 Yet praised be the fact, that some are brought 
 
 Within the charm of vital truth at last, 
 
 Although it should be by a crooked path. 
 
 But, oh ! the guardian angels must, I ween, 
 Lonely shed bloody tears, that lust of wealth 
 
 * The author has had no little struggle of mind as to whether or not he 
 should expunge this passage, lest it should seem a gratuitous insult to 
 clergymen in general ; hut the reader will see that it applies only to 
 those who are trained hy ambitious parents for a profession, in favour of 
 which they have shown no prepossession, being, both morally and intel- 
 lectually, the very antipodes of what we have a right to expect from a 
 spiritual teacher. That there are sufficient of these cases to justify the 
 above stricture will scarcely be doubted ; and, so long as there are such, 
 how can we wonder at the prevalence of schism, tractarianism, hypocrisy, 
 formality, and all their concomitant vices which distract the church. 
 
164 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 
 
 Should sway religion's sceptre ! Wonder not 
 That good celestial virtues thrive but ill ; 
 That modern saints are frail, their graces thin, 
 And saintly England cankers at her core ! 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Ye sons of England's beauty 
 Preserve your nation's youth 
 
 In friendship, trade, and duty, 
 Combin'd with sacred truth. 
 
 The man of double dealing 
 Shall find his scheming vain ; 
 
 Shall lose all honest feeling, 
 Amongst his vices slain. 
 
 Clothe not the thorn with roses, 
 Nor poison mix in wine ; 
 
 Do what your mind disposes, 
 When taught by truth divine. 
 
 Fill not the couch with hornets ; 
 
 Nor vipers hide in pillows ; 
 Nor make true love to mourn its 
 
 Untimely wreath of willows. 
 
 Infuse no gall in honey ; 
 
 Nor act by false pretence ; 
 Rob not the man of money 
 
 Who is devoid of sense. 
 
 Let not the good man languish, 
 Who is to bliss inclin'd ; 
 
 Nor kill with double anguish 
 The wretch of feeling mind. 
 
 Hypocrisy is hateful, 
 And oft a losing game ; 
 
 But honesty is grateful, 
 And comes at last to fame. 
 
TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 165 
 
 CHAPTER m. 
 
 The Magna Charta— National Impudence; Insolent Pride— Of 
 Decency, Indecency, and Folly — Of Pride ; Humble Merit ; Hu- 
 mility — Sacrifice of Pride. 
 
 The famous " Charta," wrung at Runnymede, 
 From th' feeble hands of gentle Lord King John — 
 The charter of our freedom — well hath chang'd 
 The scope and habits of the English race ; 
 Hath from th' old tree its canker'd branches prun'd, 
 And fed new scions, vig'rous, firm, and rough : 
 Its pristine roots, struck deeper, draw new life 
 Prom earth before deem'd barren. * * 
 
 Our civil liberty hath made us bold 
 And impudent as any pack of dogs, 
 To grin, or growl, or gnash our teeth at will. 
 The high and low the like infection share. 
 Some as the good old Talbot, or the mastiff, 
 Famous, and noble in majestic gait, 
 Will scarcely bite or bark ; as bloodhounds, some 
 Scent certainly their game ; some, bulldog fierce, 
 Take victims by the throat ; and snappish curs 
 And windy terriers for ever tease. 
 
 Such are the features which compose our tribes ; 
 Our great compassionate the small, and bear 
 With wond'rous patience all their petty strife. 
 But let a great one dare provoke their blood, 
 I'll answer to't, they give him cause to rue ; 
 And e'en the little ones endure but ill 
 The great dog's tooth ; but, joining in a band, 
 By numbers make their might, and slay their foe ! 
 
 It were not wrong to tend our nation's honour, 
 And hold at bay invading bands of wolves ; 
 
166 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 
 
 But the conceited, self-created umpire, 
 
 Who rears his head beyond all sense, and barks 
 
 Incessantly his saucy folly out 
 
 On his forbearing, unoffending mates, 
 
 Too often shows our national insolence, 
 
 Basely uncivil, ignorant, and void. 
 
 With ostentatious mien, the empty man 
 Stands unabash'd, and spouts his genius forth ; 
 Boasts of his wit, his wisdom, and his birth ; 
 Presumes to be a ruler, sets him up 
 Above the sphere which nature had ordain'd ; 
 He swaggers much with heavy bets of cash ; 
 Can pay, he says, no matter, right or wrong ; 
 He must be spokesman chief, at taverns all ; 
 Must ride the first horse always, and the best. 
 If he runs o'er a man and smash his brains, 
 No odds, he must push on — he cannot halt ; 
 If once he tarries, he belies his birth, 
 Tarnishes his hobby, cuts his fated pride, 
 And sinks in his wild dreams, his courage fails ; 
 Till down he falls, by his huge weight oppress'd. 
 He can't endure the low'ring impulses ; 
 He cannot live, save to exult and boast — 
 To stamp upon his equals, rail his friends, 
 And spit his froth on his superiors. 
 
 Yet oft the scorner meets some small rebuke 
 From some plain, humble man, so smartly shot, 
 In such effective cartridge — so well aim'd 
 At some unwatch'd and vulnerable part, 
 That the Goliath staggers, and has done. 
 Poor wretch ! his bellows ruptur'd once, he's dumb i 
 He's mute as any fish, and quite undone ; 
 Or makes a sally foolish and confus'd, 
 To cover his retreat : but he must fall, 
 And shame must be the crown of the great vaunter i 
 Still grant him but a moment's rallying ! 
 Pon't pounce too heavy on him ! give him room ! 
 His native arrogance is yet alive, 
 
TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 167 
 
 And all the shame which seem'd to do him o'er 
 He boldly shuffles off, and walks him forth, 
 Nor blinks nor blushes, but turns up a face 
 As hard as sin, on which no shame could live ! 
 
 Now this is vulgar Anglo-pride — a vice 
 So bold and rough, as scarce to be endur'd ; 
 That unrestrain'd, runs wild as mountain furze, 
 And chokes all lovely nature where it reigns ; 
 As base as hedge-row briars that hang the lambs ; 
 Compos'd of such materials as amaze 
 Th' anatomist. Pride ! lofty pride ! the child 
 Of ign'rance, pulls its patrons to the dust ! 
 
 God save the shallow proud from folly's curse, 
 And God save me from all the curse of pride — 
 That shallow pride which ignorance begets. 
 
 Let all my lot for poverty be cast, 
 To live unknown to all they deem as great ; 
 Let me be fool esteem'd ; but give me sense — 
 One spark of wisdom ; give me common sense — ■ 
 That best of sense, and from the pride of fools 
 Great God deliver me, and all my train ! 
 
 To verily be a fool is worse than death ; 
 To know not good from ill, or right or wrong ; 
 To have no plain discretion ; to be void ; 
 To have no stable law or rule of life ; 
 To act by impulse, rail at sober counsel ; 
 To set one's foot on all propriety ; 
 To scorn the common ties of human rights ; 
 To be more callous than a common beast, 
 And to good virtue run antipodes ! 
 This sure must be a curse from which the wise 
 Will pray deliverance with all his breath. 
 
 Such is the pride of insult ; then, in dress, 
 The gaudy trappings prove the empty soul. 
 Beneath the cloak of decency oft lurks 
 This foul bird, pride, that builds her dirty nest 
 In hearts of men's affections, rearing young 
 
168 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 
 
 That tear all goodness from society. 
 
 They preach of decency as of a God : 
 
 Good decency may dwell in corduroy 
 
 Or fustian dress, from rags and vermin free, 
 
 Made with becoming modesty to hide 
 
 The limbs whereto we pin our thoughts of shame. 
 
 Cloth, superfine in texture ; shaded silks ; 
 
 Satins and velvets ; ribbons beauteous dyed, 
 
 And such gay harness of the lofty proud, 
 
 Suit well the noble wealthy ; should be worn 
 
 By men of heavy cash, whose duty is 
 
 To patronise our nation's wealth and strength, 
 
 Th' ingenious artist's work of native skilL 
 
 But for a man, yea, eVn a nobleman, 
 
 Like a conceited peacock strutting round, 
 
 And spreading forth his beauteous shining coat, 
 
 To think his soul, or flesh, or brain more good, 
 
 Because of radiant plumage, is a farce 
 
 Whereat true decency scarce dares to look. 
 
 And how much more calamitous and mean 
 The vulgar throng who ape the wealthy great 
 In manners and pretensions ; who devise 
 All human schemes to vie in outward show, 
 And overshine meridian beauty ; 
 Who gild and varnish habitations grand ; 
 Distort their nat'ral grace ; attempt new shapes, 
 And stuff their bodies with unsightly pads, 
 To make their decency indecent shame. 
 They chmb the hills of glory, scale the mount, 
 To seize the plumes of greatness — shine as lords, 
 Or dukes, or kings ; or mimic mighty dames. 
 
 Shame on the vile, o'erbearing multitudes, 
 Whose sin, imperious pride, is patron vice 
 To envy, malice, strife, presumption, hate, 
 Hypocrisy, and other progeny ! 
 Shame on the hollow, tow'ring, hemlock herd, 
 That lift their heads on high to smother down 
 More humble, fairer, nat'ral beauteous bloom ! 
 
TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 369 
 
 Then muscular pride lifts up its dragon head 
 With beastly violence ; breaks down, by force, 
 All civil rules, and flings around it fierce 
 Tormentiug tumult. Pride of honour, too, 
 Becomes a snare to thousands, who for praise, 
 For empty names, and popular applause ; 
 Who for a moment's gentle wafting breeze, 
 Along the seeming glassy stream of glory, 
 Will sell their birthright, sacrifice their wealth, 
 And sink their peace to deep oblivion. 
 Pride's like the smaller beer, that furious foams, 
 While good strong ale within the cask is still. 
 Or, like the empty cask, it always sounds 
 With greater noise than one that's better fill'd. 
 
 But see the worthy rich of humble mood, 
 Whose soul is knit to charity and love ; 
 Whose nature will submit, in kindly peace, 
 To honour truth : this is the man whose life, 
 As salt of bliss and brine of moral joy, 
 Purges our putrid manners by his grace ; 
 He's the preserver of society 
 From fulsome deeds and revelry of crime ; 
 He's pivot to meek virtue's balances ; 
 He keeps our country's morals yet alive ; 
 Is counter-irritant to vice and lust, 
 And long he reigns in mem'ries of the good. 
 In such an one the sons of men feel bless' d, 
 And from him flows the balm of earthly joy. 
 
 If it should please the Ruler of the world 
 To people earth with meek humility, 
 Peace would prevail, and, like a mighty sea, 
 In glory spread, and the millennium come. 
 
 Of meek and lovely spirits were the saints, 
 Now perfected in heaven, and angels good, 
 Who from eternity maintain' d their stand 
 Against perfidious pride, with filial love, 
 And sweet subordination to their God ; 
 While their ambitious mates, aspiring high, 
 
170 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 
 
 Stretch'd forth beyond themselves to grasp domain 
 
 Held by th' Omnipotent, in sad reverse, 
 
 Were spurn'd from their primeval bliss, and damn'd, 
 
 So, with their feeble imitators, men ; 
 
 Each in his way pursues a boon or curse. 
 
 Truth is the same in heav'n, or earth, or hell ; 
 
 And meek humility observes her rules, 
 
 While the ambitious proud are her tormentors. 
 
 Modest humility, with native roots 
 Deep growing through the soul, is scarce to find 
 With us ; for she is like exotic plants, 
 Which in our frigid island sickly grow : 
 Our atmosphere, too sharp for her gauze leaves, 
 Shrivels her buds, her virgin beauty blasts, 
 And turns her blanchen white to carious black. 
 If plac'd in shelter, too, some biting air 
 Invades her tender pores, and turns her sick, 
 Till sallow jaundice slays her lily hue ; 
 Save lonely now and then, and far apart 
 This sweet enchantress reigns, in nature's walks, 
 Unconscious of her beauty, blooming fair, 
 Protected by supernal pow'rs, to prove 
 The loves and follies of aspiring men ! 
 
 Then shall fair, kind humility in vain 
 Spread forth her wooing virtue ? Shall she cry 
 Her blessings round to scorning multitudes ? 
 Shall lofty pride tread down this meek-air'd saint, 
 And mix her ashes with the dusty earth 
 In an untimely grave % Shall beauty live 
 And die unknown to beauty-seeking eyes ? 
 Shall brutish hands her goddess charms despoil ? 
 Or tear down courteous virtue by assault ? 
 Nay, never let her rise in judgment up, 
 To curse our vices with a deeper hell ! 
 
 Now, let this peering pride at once be slain ! 
 Up to the altar draw the sacrifice — 
 The cursed, the offensive sacrifice — 
 And let the spotless hands of naked truth, 
 
TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 371 
 
 Before the eyes of all the virtues, slay 
 This spoiler ; set the flames of honest love 
 To kindle on the carcass ; when consum'd, 
 Its ashes give to all th' unruly winds ! 
 
 Thus let the lust of hateful pride expire, 
 And the triumphant virtues join and sing 
 A cheerful hallelujah ! Thus extinct 
 This murd'rous human tyrant ; men, set free, 
 Shall join the chorus of emancipation, 
 And universal nature must rejoice. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 O, Britain ! the land of my birth ! 
 
 An Island the dearest to me ; 
 How great is thy name in the earth, 
 Thou garden- like speck on the sea ! 
 Great nations oft wonder to hear 
 
 The enterprise thou wilt perform ; 
 They envy thy fame, as they fear 
 The force of thy art and thy storm ! 
 
 Chorus. — Thus fam'd and thus mighty. 
 In deeds that are weighty 
 The honest and just, 
 Along with me, must 
 Still love my old Britain I 
 
 O, Albion ! of ancient so wild, 
 
 Uncultur'd, half-savage, scarce known ; 
 Invaded, betray'd, and beguil'd 
 
 By bloodhounds of cruel renown ! 
 Now freed from the scourge and the yoke 
 
 Of those who have held thee in thrall, 
 Thy Maker thy bondage hath broke ; 
 
 Then dedicate to Him thy all. 
 
 Chorus. — Thus fam'd, &c. 
 O, England ! a handful of land, 
 
 How wilt thou still head the large globe. 
 And first of the nations yet stand, 
 
 Array'd in thy fame-woven robe ? 
 Ask wisdom to lend thee her light, 
 
 To guide thee from error's foul bane ; 
 And trust to thy God for thy might, 
 
 Then shalt thou be prosp'rous and reign I 
 Chorus. — Thus fam'd, &c. 
 
MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Natural Rudeness— English Cruelty— The Trading Spirit— All 
 Vice cruel— Various operations of Cruelty which intimidate Charity 
 —Cruelty to the Unfortunate and the Young— Cruelty resulting 
 from the Spirit of the Times— A few of Brotherly Affection. , 
 
 Where nature reigns, unchang'd, in distant climes, 
 And in her native rudeness rears her head, 
 Shaggy and wild — not shaven, comb'd, or brush'd ; 
 With fireball eyes and voice terrific, shrill ; 
 Where our philosophers and priests as yet 
 Have got no hold ; where morals, laws, and creeds, 
 In image of their ancient maker's will, 
 Remain unalter'd by the flight of years ; 
 The natives live in manners strange to us, 
 And therefore we esteem them barbarous. 
 The cannibal we deem a cruel hound — 
 A fierce devourer of his fallen foe ; 
 Yet he is not more fell, I should conceive, 
 Than cruel passions of our Englishmen, 
 Who " faithfully" and " most respectfully," 
 According to the rules of friendship, kill 
 Their myriad friends, by years of ling'ring death, 
 In systems of continuous martyrdom. 
 
 Conflicting commerce ruins kindest hearts ; 
 And rival interests, of a thousand sorts, 
 Contaminate compassionate regards ; 
 Make each to strive and overrun his mate, 
 And snatch the treasures of his bosom friends, 
 Till, oft offended, disappointed love 
 Becomes an abstract theme — a thing of name 
 Whose real substance scarce can now exist. 
 Not even in the blood of nearest kin. 
 
TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 173 
 
 If you would make your very brethren foes 
 Get at their shops some twenty shillings' worth 
 Of petty goods, and let your credit run 
 Some extra months, and you will be at war ; 
 Your unity of purpose, soul and blood, 
 Will have departed, like the smoke in air ; 
 Or snow that falls upon the greedy sea. 
 Then pay the man his pound, and all is right ! 
 And he will wheedle round to keep your trade, 
 Until your next default shall seal your curse ; 
 His own is his, and he must have, at once, 
 His own. It will not do for him to lose 
 Int'rest or principal, or eVn to doubt 
 About your solvency, so long as he 
 On you can make demands ; if he be clear, 
 No matter for the woes you feel or dread ; 
 No matter if the circumstance you're in 
 Press hard upon you ; if a few more weeks 
 Would clear you up ; no matter, you must fall ; 
 His love, in master cruelty, expires, 
 And you must take the seas of certain strife, 
 To be extirpated of all your hopes ; 
 Thus nature's love reverts to selfish lust, 
 And buries bliss in cold and treach'rous forms. 
 
 Dare not t' endure the cunning, cruel craft, 
 And certain insolence of creditors : 
 Nay, rather chance the charity of dogs ; 
 For these, at worst, no more than tear your flesh 
 While those will sue away your cash and goods, 
 Incarcerate your body, till 't becomes 
 A walking skeleton of useless bones : 
 And then they fortify their consciences, 
 And strengthen up their deeds in men's esteem. 
 By building tow'rs of lies against your name. 
 The cruelty of man to man exceeds 
 The cruelty of beasts. Men wound and snare 
 The spirit of one's youthful probity ; 
 Hurl slander on the nervous, honest soul ; 
 Distract the trembling penitent with fear ; 
 
 q 2 
 
 ^ 
 
174 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 
 
 Browbeat him out of truth, and snap, in scorn, 
 
 The fingers which, by right, should bring him peace. 
 
 They hound keen-scented lawyers on your track, 
 
 Who fawn about you with disguis'd intents — 
 
 With smooth pretence of fair regard and joy. 
 
 If you your credit can maintain, and pay 
 
 Their hotbed-swollen-bills, they'll please you well, 
 
 Or feed or pinch, as seems most meet awhile ; 
 
 With bowels so elastic, they can suit, 
 
 By stretching or contracting, viper-like, 
 
 The size of meals your substance may afford. 
 
 Once they surpris'd me in the mire, and kick'd 
 In turns my head ; by moral chloroform 
 They check'd my breath. I thought that all was o'er 
 They took me unawares ; I scarce could think, 
 But stood aghast in wonder at their spleen, 
 Until reflection reassum'd her throne ; 
 And then, anon, with growing pride I scorn'd 
 The glutton crew, and with a high disdain, 
 Brooking contempt, I heeded not their hate. 
 
 How many honest men are doom'd as rogues, 
 Pull'd down from their fair pinnacle of hope, 
 And sacrificed to selfishness and guile ? 
 How many never tasted nature's joy, 
 But liv'd in wo, and died with broken souls, 
 I leave the awful judgment day to prove ! 
 And all ye traitors of humanity ! 
 Ye rough barbarians with a civil name, 
 Who tear away the vital bliss of man, 
 Remember ! you must prove your balance-sheet, 
 And answer to th' accouut of life and death ! 
 
 'Tis nigh enough to drive a mortal mad, 
 To be tormented daily, jarr'd and foil'd, 
 By all the hags and demon-sons of lust ; 
 To have one's goodness riven out of one, 
 As the vile hound tears out his victim's entrails ; 
 To be deceiv'd by lovers, friends, and kin, 
 On whom our souls in confidence repos'd ; 
 
TEMrERAMEJJT OF THE TIMES. 175 
 
 To be demoraliz'd, and taught to swear 
 Against the dictates of one's better sense ; 
 To have imputed to one horrid deeds, 
 And reasons, which one never had conceit d ; 
 And to be worried for th' accuser's fault ! 
 
 We're born to trial, trouble, torment, pain ; 
 To contradiction, insult, strife, and shame ; 
 To be rid over roughshod by the world ; 
 Kiclc'd at and spurn'd ; oft to be robb'd by friends ; 
 Betray 5 d, cast forth from one's own hallow'd seat ; 
 Be left to perish in distress, and scorn'd 
 By those who plunder'd us of all our wealth ! 
 
 All vicious thoughts of men work cruelty ; — 
 Not cruelty that maims the flesh alone ; 
 For this is but one item in th' account — 
 But one ingredient in the murderer's cup — 
 The glaringly obseiVd, the manifest, 
 And that aloue which strikes the vulgar mind 
 As cruelty : the severing of veins 
 Or arteries till, with one's blood, shall our 
 Poor prison'd principle of life escape ; 
 Or, carving living tendons from one's bones, 
 As handy cooks slice "cutlets," "steaks," or "chops," 
 Are deeds forbid by law, and taught to be 
 Oppos'd to modern manners of this realm ; 
 Else some would stalk about with gory hands 
 Each month, and week, and day along the year. 
 Yet, spite of sage restrictions, all attempts 
 To make the conduct contrast with the will 
 Are vain as gossamers to tether bulls. 
 In spite of futile rules, the knife, the ball, 
 The deadly draught or bludgeon do their work ; 
 Or more refin'd, more hypocritic ways, 
 This fell barbarian cruelty assumes. 
 This brazen-fac'd, hard-hearted dame dares not 
 To always spill her destin'd victim's blood ; 
 But well suiTounds him in her wily snares, 
 And strikes his feeling soul with black despair ; 
 
176 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 
 
 Eradicates his deepest roots of joy ; 
 Hews down the stem of all his earthly wealth ; 
 Slays his affections ; poisons all his love ; 
 Blasts, with a thousand-viper'd tongue, his fame : 
 Scourges humanity from out his breast ; 
 Bribes all his friends to bitter enemies, 
 And heaps upon him cares, brutality, 
 Hypocrisy, contempt, and hate, and pride ! 
 
 The godlike principle of human love 
 Is taught to tremble — taught to live in fear. 
 The virtuous man who feels another's wo, 
 And gives compassion to the slightest touch ; 
 Who kindly would forego some share of bliss, 
 To ease another's lot, must be aggriev'd ; 
 Must feel his soul dissolve, like ice, beneath 
 The force of his warm-hearted love, and run 
 Like water in his bowels, till, ingulf 'd 
 In the impetuous stream of mortal strife, 
 He finds his efforts vain, and quietly yields 
 To fall and languish, sicken, pine, and die, 
 Through disappointment of his will to men. 
 
 Most cruelly th' unfortunate are used 
 By those esteem'd their friends ; and oft the young- 
 Are ruin'd e'er they dream that foes exist — 
 Before hypocrisy hath taught the mind 
 To act duplicity, or play deceit ; 
 Before our natural caution well hath learn'd 
 To see through mountains which is white or black ; 
 Before we're fortified with cunning art 
 Sufficient to rebuff designing knaves ; 
 Before we well can walk, we're doom'd to fall, 
 Through the oppression of illiberal minds, 
 And great conflicting interests of our day. 
 
 Yet be not cruel or illiberal, 
 Nor harshly blame the principles of men ; 
 Self-preservation forces some astray 
 From what in them would else be virtuous. 
 Whatever good in life I would pursue 
 
TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES^ 177 
 
 With vigour, somewhat which I gain must prove 
 A loss to those who else would get the prize ; 
 And both our poverty, like famish'd wolves, 
 Must have at least a bone, or we must die. 
 So 'tis not always cruel will that sways 
 The iron-looking sceptre over men : 
 Necessity compels the gentle mind ; 
 A moral force constrains unwilling love, 
 And self-existence calls the kindest man 
 To take war weapons up, and fiercely slay, 
 Or foes, or friends, or lovers, who by chance, 
 Impell'd by need, for his last morsel gape 
 With gnashing, hungry teeth. 0, cruel fates ! 
 0, stern compulsive wo, engrafted strong 
 On the old root, too firm for human might, 
 Or aught of earthly wit, t' exterminate, 
 Ev'n man's degeneracy ! the fruitful source 
 Of evils which we evermore, endure ! 
 Compel us not to slay our brother man ! 
 Drive not compassion absolutely mad ! 
 Nor industry pervert to cruelty 2 
 
 Ye few of brotherly affection, live 
 In all the glory of your righteous wills ! 
 Still rise superior to the threats of vice, 
 To bless and turn the hearts of those who stray, 
 Through adverse fates, from sweet humanity ! 
 Fan ye the sparks of virtue in their souls, 
 That thro' the blessing breath of heav'n shall blaze, 
 Till bloody deeds and cruel wills shall form 
 A pyre where mortal ills shall all consume 
 To ashes, and the phoenix thence arise 
 Of universal love to mortal man. 
 
 If evil comes, 'tis well to think and judge — 
 To ponder and decide, with judgment act, 
 According to your share of wisdom given : 
 Yet never to be anxious, fill'd with fear — 
 Cast down with dark forebodings or despair ; 
 Never allow the demons to prevail, 
 
MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 
 
 Or harbour fearful thoughts within your soul : 
 
 These will distort your nature, spoil your peace, 
 
 Fill you with cankerworms that eat the core 
 
 Of all you deem as good in your existence. 
 
 Then spurn them hence, nor be your own tormentor ! 
 
 Be your own friend, at least, when foes increase ! 
 
 Nor let them cruelly despond your heart 
 
 To poison its own blood. Be ever strong ; 
 
 Be proof against all self-afflicting woes — 
 
 The ills which others make you are enough. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Keep your courage ! keep your courage ! 
 
 Though the world be frowning on ye ; 
 Keep your courage ! keep your courage ! 
 
 Though your friends and kindred shun ye ! 
 
 Keep your courage, &c. 
 Though the dark'ning sky should low'r ; 
 
 Though the quaking earth should tremble ; 
 Though ye, void of ev'ry pow'r, 
 
 Must through bleakest deserts ramble, 
 
 Keep your courage, &c. 
 Though disease and want should greet you, 
 
 Marring all your fruit and treasure ; 
 Though vexatious strife should cheat you 
 
 Out of all your youthful pleasure, 
 
 Keep your courage, &c. 
 "When the nations fond of warring 
 
 Threaten, fume, and look outrageous, 
 Heed ye not their foolish jarring — 
 
 Court the truth and be courageous ; 
 
 Keep your courage, &c. 
 Keep your courage when you're failing ; 
 
 Struggle onward what you can ; 
 Though you feel each mortal ailing, 
 
 Courage aids the sinking man ! 
 
 Keep your courage, &c. 
 
 Though all evils were impending, 
 
 Good men should not die despairing ; 
 
 Heav'nly pow'rs, the truth befriending, 
 Will observe their toil and caring : 
 
 Keep your courage, &c. 
 
TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. ] J9 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Of Success— Envy ; her works, nature, and charactar ; opposed 
 to Peace and Harmony — Her Votaries ; of a sad nature ; an imitator 
 — None envy the ills of the Poor, but their virtues — Envy illiberal — 
 Of Love— The Unfeeling Man— The Expansive Mind— The Feeling 
 Soul hath antidotes for Envy. 
 
 If to success, through strength and care, ye rise, 
 To float awhile upon the tossing sea 
 Of modern speculation, trade, and pride, 
 And 'scape the quagmires, pits, and treach'rous rocks 
 Of hypocritie friends and cruel foes. 
 If youthful vigour push you swiftly on, 
 And prosperous virtue marks your fleet advance, 
 Then Envy sneaks about, to watch some slip ; 
 Sneers at your good, or smiles to see you fall ; 
 Snatches up all the milestones on the road, 
 And hurls them slily at you. Envy hates 
 To see you live in comfort, peace, and joy ; 
 And covets all whate'er of good you have. 
 She calls hypocrisy and cruelty 
 To lend their aid, but is to mean for pride. 
 She would defile or rob you of your love, 
 Because her vileness robs her of her own ; 
 As none would dare affection's bliss to yield 
 Into her selfish grasp : as few would choose 
 To live for long within her narrow cell. 
 If you be gay, she wishes for your dress, 
 And, to enjoy a set of gaudy robes, 
 Would scarce regret to strip and set you forth 
 Through wilderness and desert, storms and thorns, 
 To perish in unpitied nudity ! 
 
 If you be rich, she prays to find your cash, 
 That then her lazy bones may lie at ease 
 
180 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 
 
 Upon the couch of stolen luxury — 
 May revel in debauch at your expense, 
 Or skip at once to her elysium ! 
 
 Amongst the mental vices, Envy is 
 The basest of the train : she is so mean, 
 No noble thought can find abode with her ; 
 No votary or counsel will presume 
 To plead her cause, or set her virtues forth. 
 She is so vulgar, little, and despis'd, 
 That no pretext can shield her from contempt. 
 She is in open life so much accurs'd, 
 That none in public take her by the hand. 
 She is a private demon ; lonely vice ; 
 Hermaphrodite, that gendereth to herself ; 
 For certain she can have no equal mate, 
 Save Vanity may be her paramour ; 
 Or cloak'd Hypocrisy her secret friend, 
 That in the dark steps forth to aid her plots ; 
 And Cruelty and Malice are her guests, 
 When some great purpose is to be attain' d. 
 
 When this barbarian vampire fails to gain 
 The good she covets, she recurs to hate, 
 To malice and revenge : she'll foil thy skill 
 By counterworks ; build o'er thy fav'rite path 
 Some wall to stay thy progress ; dig some pit ; 
 Or with some ignis-fatuus lantern lead 
 Thy steps, when dark, to some outlandish bog. 
 Her heart, like iron oxydized to naught 
 But scaly rottenness, will fret itself 
 With mean abhorrence. Her ill-bred intent 
 Will rake the universe to find some fate, 
 Some magic spell, or some malignant star, 
 Whose aspect is to thee of import vile ; 
 And for thy crime of being fortunate, 
 Or good, or prudent, will, with vengeful wind, 
 Sweep all that's base upon thee ; or will tear, 
 As with a tiger's paw, thy virtue's vest, 
 And ruin, if she can, thy best designs ! 
 
TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 181 
 
 No peace can live with Envy ; she is like 
 Fermenting elements that in the womb 
 Of a volcano work in silent war, 
 Unknown, till full-grown opportunity 
 Brings forth her moment for erupting flames ; 
 Then devastation, deep and wide, she sends 
 Impetuous forth, to deluge mortal joy. 
 She drives all unity of purpose from 
 Fair Charity's abode, and makes the mind, 
 Where she gains entrance, filthiness and sloth ; 
 Tears, one by one, the gentle feeling nerves 
 That vibrate, like the mellow-sounding harp, 
 Through numan bosoms, tun'd in harmony 
 To all the godlike virtues left in man. 
 Stupidity and baseness well betray 
 Old Envy's votaries ; to whom all sense, 
 Reason, and duty speak in vain ; to whom 
 All goodness is as poison, rankling deep 
 In new-torn flesh, unwelcome, hated much ', 
 They've granite heart and iron nerve, unlike 
 "What men should be as dovils are to God : 
 Alone to spoil each noble deed they live. 
 
 Envy ascribes your better deeds to foul 
 Perverted reasons ; blacks the purest white. 
 And, with a lying tongue, spreads infamy 
 To inundate your choicest happiness ! 
 
 Envy is like a petted child, that frets 
 About the house, and sweetest morsels craves 
 From off the table, parting only with 
 The bones or crusts that do not suit his teeth. 
 She chooses but your better things of life — 
 Your richest lands, your dearest friends — and leaves 
 Your worthless trash untouch' d, to be your own. 
 
 She hath no mirth or kindness ; means no good ; 
 And, like the wireworm, eats the roots of hope. 
 The veriest ape that ever monkey'd us, 
 She, with enchantress' fingers, mimics what 
 
182 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 
 
 In vain she covets. Simple, shallow dolts, 
 
 Who ne'er had sense to scan the good man's steps, 
 
 By Envy's mighty transmutating aid 
 
 Can feign to copy and outrival him ; 
 
 Assisted by an envious spleen, they sneer, 
 
 And whip his goodness to the worrying dogs. 
 
 The senators the sov'reign rulers ape — 
 
 In pomp and manners copy kings and queens : 
 
 Great premiers, chief commanders, counsellors, 
 
 And many mighty men, ambitious mad, 
 
 To be a step advanc'd above themselves, 
 
 Live daily in the strife of Envy's toil, 
 
 And pledge their peace and rest for glit*ring state. 
 
 The small ones, envious of these shining stars, 
 
 And dreaming still on bliss of outward show, 
 
 Drag on with heavy loads of poverty, 
 
 Through oceans of contention, toss'd with tides, 
 
 And furious blasting winds, despairing not 
 
 At sickness, pains, or all the mortal ills 
 
 That reckless men inherit, while they push 
 
 To snatch the boon that Envy tempts them to. 
 
 But none there are to envy, none to rob 
 The poor man of his sorrows ; none who crave 
 His scanty meals — mere scrapings of the teeth ; 
 And none who wish to be reduc'd in wealth ; 
 To drudge in nakedness and poverty ; 
 To live a life of daily pining death, 
 Like lank and famish'd wolves, with staring bones. 
 Alas, poor Poverty ! poor careworn child ! 
 How few thy woes will covet : yet art thou 
 Not free from Envy's trammels ; oft she seeks 
 What good still clings to thee ! — thy sober'd peace ! 
 Thy chasten'd, stern, contented modesty ; 
 Thy pious, dutiful, submissive mood : 
 These would she tear from off thee — leave thee bare 
 Of all that is with virtue's imprint stamp'd. 
 Nor high nor low from Envy then are safe ; 
 Nor great nor good secure from her desire ! 
 
TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 183 
 
 Envy our natural liberality 
 Proscribes, and wounds the love of man to man. 
 Old Nature first made all with bounteous heart — 
 More prone to give than take, to love than hate ; 
 Expansive and capacious ; fain to fold 
 Within the arms of love the universe, 
 And hug unto the teat, of richest milk 
 Of Nature's goodness, all the sons of want. 
 But Envy, jealous of our growing bliss, 
 Invades the genial wish ; unstrings the harp 
 Of natural harmony ; our joy denies, 
 Turning ijiis garden to a wilderness ; 
 And makes us barren, inharmonious, 
 Churlish, morose, and foul in all our ways. 
 
 Love is a pleasant thing — the cream of life, 
 The salve that heals the sores and wounds of vice, 
 And turns a canker'd earth to paradise ; 
 To Envy she prescribes a drastic purge, 
 To scour her bowels from putrescent vice, 
 And make more room for true beneficence. 
 
 The envious wretch, devoid of charity, 
 And all the gentler feelings of the soul ; 
 Who never feels the pow'rs of sympathy ; 
 Who cannot smile, or sigh, or blush, or love, 
 And is a foe to emulating spirit ; 
 Who hath no kind remembrance of the past ; 
 His games of infancy, or youthful mirth ; 
 Who hath forgot his schoolboy mates, and holds 
 No charming hopes to lead him through the future, 
 But quietly lives a single day at once ; 
 That, like a fatted hog, consumes his food 
 Without one rising spark of gratitude ; 
 Who has no fixed principle of life, 
 But lives at random, void of standard rule, 
 Shall never be my choice, or share my heart. 
 He's like a stony post — a nerveless frame, 
 That ne'er was meant to be acknowledg'd man ! 
 
184 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 
 
 He whom they term a maniac often proves 
 Of higher resolution, force, and wit 
 Than his maligners ; simply bears more sail 
 Than his frail nut-shell boat can ballast well 
 Thro' the tumultuous surge of social life, 
 "Whose fierce, unnat'ral heavings toss too much 
 For him who follows nature candidly ; 
 His large adventurous grasp of thought, too bold 
 For some who scarcely know the use of brain, 
 Is constantly rebuff 'd, by their distaste 
 And selfish schemes of dull fatuity ; 
 Till, oft repress' d, constrain' d, and held at bay, 
 He rises rampant at his mean tormentors ; 
 Rages at their pusillanimity, 
 And off at all digressive tangents flies. 
 From step to step pursued, and urg'd, and curb'd 
 By all distracting vanities, he grows 
 Ungovernable, like the plunging steed 
 Which cannot please, or bear his cruel groom. 
 Thus many men are into madness driv'n, 
 And many more besides her threshold halt. 
 And yet give me the bold discursive mind, 
 That heedeth not the meaner schemes of life, 
 But soars above their taint divinely high. 
 Such soul, of high delights and ardent love, 
 Prescribes the antidotes for Envy. She, 
 Like a good gardener, tears the deeper roots 
 Of Envy's weeds, which dare to choke the buds 
 Of modest flow'ring beauty. She no ill 
 To friends or neighbours will design or do. 
 She fishes not the little brooks ; nor leaves 
 The net or night-line set, to snare the faults 
 Of those who swim along the stream of life, 
 Like sharks voracious, or poor feeble sprats ; 
 Alike she loves them all, alike o'erlooks 
 The foibles of the mighty and the weak. 
 Ride on, sweet fairy Liberality, 
 Till Envy lives no longer, but shall sink 
 Unheeded in the nethermost abyss ; 
 
TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 185 
 
 Whence angels, men, or devils shall no more 
 Resuscitate this miscreant vice. 
 
 SONNET.— TO ENVY. 
 
 At thee, foul-crested Envy, now my blood 
 
 Thrills through my bosom, and in ev'ry vein 
 Hangs cold as icicles : and Oh ! I would, 
 
 If I the pow'r possess'd, ne'er meet again 
 Thy hated notice ; but, t' escape thy curse, 
 
 Dissolve to ether ! Naught's for thee too vile ! 
 Thou liv'st on defamation in extremes ; 
 
 Thine object well to low'r, with deepest guile, 
 Thou callest proud, fool, pennyless, and weak ; 
 
 Then, for more certain prey, the same is made 
 Great out of measure ; said to plan and do 
 
 All what he never dream'd. 0, sorry jade ! 
 How I, with truth, would hunt and crush thee down. 
 How I thy with'ring eyes would from their sockets tear, 
 But I my rage must curb, and leave thy fate to God. 
 
 SONNET 
 In MEMORY of JOHN HOWARD, the PHILANTHROPIST. 
 
 Hail ! philanthropic Howard, glorious name ! 
 
 The pride of England and the boast of fame ! 
 
 The friend of blighted man ; his hope and joy, 
 
 When plagues or chains his other hopes destroy : 
 
 The captive's eyeballs glisten'd with delight 
 When thou hadst found his miserable cell ; 
 
 And the disease-consum'd was fill'd with might, 
 
 When thou hadst learn'd where he was doom'd to dwell. 
 
 The isles and continents with wondef saw 
 
 Thy deep devotedness to human wo ; 
 
 Till, love-constrain'd, thy sacrifice was given 
 
 To teach base men the principles of heav'n. 
 Oh ! may such spirit of free sympathizing grace 
 Descend, as shall the whole of human kind embrace ! 
 
 r 2 
 
183 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Olden Kings— Cant and Crafty Morality — The Debauchee ; his 
 Portrait ; his Deeds — Modern Vestals — England's Moral Fame— 
 The Muse's Patriotism— Effect of Chastity — Cheerfulness— Athenian 
 Youth— Value of the Good. 
 
 And now no more, in savage heraldry, 
 The kings emblazon on the vulgar eye 
 Their revelries of crime ; no more they run 
 Riot through all the rules of decency. 
 No more with violence they dare to snatch 
 The objects of their wish ; their subjects now 
 Maintain, with equal might, their wives, their goods, 
 Their daughters from the breath pestiferous 
 Of regal prostitution ; virtuously 
 Victoria reigns, a mother and a queen — 
 A sample to the matrons, who would rule 
 Their lords with genial, matrimonial love. 
 0, may she live a long and blissful reign ! 
 No fierce, tyrannic Henry, bold in crime, 
 Libidinous, unchaste, incontinent, 
 With all his headlong vices, now could screw 
 The British mind to his debauchery, 
 Or rule the sons of liberty in awe, 
 To be the tools and pand'rers for his lusts. 
 No Nero might presume, with Romish games, 
 Or cruelty, or insolence, or war 
 To cross the bias of our English creed. 
 
 Yet great is the deception of our forms ; 
 "We're preach'd a Christian nation, held as saints, 
 And deified as men immaculate ; 
 Our modes of youthful training stink of cant 
 And false pretensions ; we are daily taught 
 To put us in one scale, and make the world, 
 
TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 187 
 
 With all her various nations, tribes, and tongues, 
 Outmatch'd to balance us in moral worth. 
 "We hold ourselves so pure in heart and life — 
 So free from open vice, that we subscribe 
 Our thousands yearly, that we may reclaim 
 The heathen from their castes, their rites, their lusts, 
 And all barbarian ways ; and oft with swords 
 And guns we force them to our national faith ! 
 
 Yet much of our pretending purity 
 Is sheer deception — poison in a cup 
 Of outward shining, beauteous, silver hue. 
 This virtue oft is but insatiate pride ; 
 As foul as death within — like gods without ; 
 Or stinking sepulchres with whited walls ! 
 
 Our morals have assum'd a cunning knack ; 
 When sham'd with truth, they take a secret path. 
 To speak of virtue absolute is farce : 
 There may be fair degrees, but ask no more ; 
 And those degrees are scarce perceptible 
 To mortal vision ; craft and double art 
 Oft borrow virtue's pencil, rivalling 
 In painting moral pictures, such as cheat 
 The inexperienc'd eye, and pass them off 
 As holy creatures, pure and free from sin. 
 The unsuspected moralist is oft 
 As much incontinent as one who takes 
 The public by the beard, save in the style 
 And number of her follies : often one, 
 Or two, or three, perchance, her secrets gain, 
 And share what surplus virtue she can spare. 
 Or on some lecherous dotard she bestows 
 Her joys and ministry to feebled lust ; 
 Yet you would be impertinent to say 
 That vice belong' d to such a pious dame ! 
 Some modest, constant, loving, faithful mates, 
 Whose consorts are not ev'rything that's good, 
 Nor always there, have charity to give ; 
 Or feel so much of extra holiness, 
 
MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 
 
 They lend accommodation to their friends ! 
 This often makes the kindest-hearted spouse 
 Doubt, disbelieve, and use true love amiss ; 
 Because that jealousy so well is fed 
 By our prevailing tact of cheatery ; 
 By modern sly pollution, well refin'd, 
 Attenuated like the gossamers, 
 Of shining silken grace, that float through fields 
 O'er ev'ry inch of ground when summer smiles. 
 
 Then moral folk, who preach of duty much, 
 Which none can dare deny, oft turn out rogues 
 Of deeper crime than many open knaves ; 
 Pursuing, with untiring villany, 
 A lawless system of cupidity, 
 In crime that might suffice to damn a world ! 
 The debauchee, the curser of his race — 
 Contaminator of society ; 
 A dragon fiend, whose very breath would blast 
 As would a poisonous vapour-blight from hell — 
 A beauteous region to a wilderness ; 
 Whose pestilential vices plague the earth, 
 And make the good men insecure to live ; 
 Must still inherit ancient tyranny, 
 And only fails in might to sink a nation. 
 Yet impudence and cash help on the beast 
 To stare one out of countenance, and grunt 
 Some artful sophistry to cheat the sense. 
 Look here, depraved cheater ! I have found 
 Thy portrait, painted by a faithful hand ; 
 The likeness true, of such a horrid cast 
 As makes the feeble artist stand dismay'd 
 At this strange picture which from thee he made ; 
 Thy cheeks inflated like a bladder, blown 
 By long debauch, mistim'd and broken rest, 
 And gluttony of food, and wines profuse ! 
 Thy yellow skin, which nature would discard, 
 Betrays the seeds of infamous disease ; 
 Thine eyes, the windows where "blue-devils" dance, 
 Enrag'd with alcohol and gorg'd with blood, 
 
TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 189 
 
 Outvie the fireballs that satanic art 
 Could bring from the black arsenal of fiends ; 
 Around thee hang the spectre-looking forms 
 Of once fair maidens, curs'd by thy deceit ; 
 To thee the wailings of the widow's grief, 
 And tortures of the orphan children, turn, 
 Crying for vengeance, for the blood of souls, 
 Led on by thee to infamy and death ! 
 Avaunt, thou troubler, or with scorpion whips, 
 Pointed with wiry blood-knots, I will drive 
 Thy hated soul from whence the good reside, 
 Till thou shalt writhe and wriggle like a snake 
 That's wounded by the rod of vengeful wrath. 
 
 The base, polluted wretch, who loves to tempt 
 The virtuous from their path of rectitude, 
 And teach them cunning arts of vice, and lust, 
 And fleshly vanity ; who, void of cash, 
 Bears up a lofty head of princely looks ; 
 Who now, in hunting fields, or racing-course, 
 Pushes his wild velocity, with pride 
 And boasting hectoring ; then nightly sits 
 Around the gambling-table, leaving home 
 And his concerns to chance or Providence, 
 Is a dire foe to both himself and friends, 
 And a destroyer of his whole estate ; 
 A desolator of his country's peace ; 
 A dreaded neighbour and a fearful plague. 
 His mind and flesh, corrupted, fail to serve 
 His feeble reason ; lost to self-control, 
 On wildfire passions borne, he runs the round 
 Of vanities, through nature's wilderness ; 
 His flesh consumes, his cash and goods depart, 
 And he and his, at last, go desolate, 
 The general lot of foul debauchery. 
 Once fully dedicated to this course, 
 The man no more is man, but demon-brute. 
 
 Yet few, in these fine moral times, dare choose 
 To court the public eye with deeds unchaste. 
 
190 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 
 
 The prevalence of hypocritic art, 
 Now cultur'd much by universal love, 
 Hath chang'd the open intercourse of crime, 
 And taught foul immorality to hide 
 Amid the dark recesses of the night, 
 Or secret ambush, to pursue its bent 
 Unseen by censuring eyes of noonday light. 
 Not near so much advanc'd, I doubt, are we 
 Above the purity of former times ; 
 But much, it may be doubted, we are sunk 
 Into the gulf of complicated vice, 
 Profanity, connivance, and deceit. 
 
 The rings of Gyges now would doubtless find 
 A bounteous market, if they could to air 
 Unseen dissolve contaminated men ; 
 Or hide them to perform their sly debauch. 
 Our vestal maids are vastly multiplied, 
 And pleasantly accommodating grown, 
 Since penance was annull'd ; our Tibers now 
 Receive, in yearly tributes, thousandfold 
 Putative offspring of the lecherous gods : 
 And still our herdsmen's wives oft take to nurse 
 Some secret buds of pious dames and lords. 
 Yet vh*tuous, chaste, and pure, of Christian fame, 
 We vaunt our nation to a wondering world ; 
 "While lurking furies, with the blazing torch 
 Of strong remorse and gaping infamy, 
 Pursue the conscience stain'd with private guilt. 
 
 But cease the burning censure ! push not hard 
 The chastisement of secret-working lust ! 
 Lest some should doubt our patriotic love, 
 Or think the Muse a cynic ! Heaven knows 
 How much our heart-strings twine around the name 
 Of England and the English ! — how we love, 
 And how appreciate the excellence 
 Of all our nation's good ; though none should dream 
 Her perfect, or narcotics give to lull 
 Her drowsy conscience into perfect sleep. 
 
TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES* 101 
 
 Nay, rather, light the beacon up, to mark 
 
 The inroads of the moral enemy 
 
 That threatens to corrupt our beauteous home ! 
 
 No matter that the sentinel should learn 
 That the seraglio all the virtue blights 
 Of flowery Eastern lands ; nor yet shall he. 
 His post forsake because that tyranny 
 And sluggish morals threaten, into vice, 
 To sink the rising glories of the North, 
 Where Russia boldly struggles with her load, 
 And tries to change her mental night to day : 
 May wisdom guide her in the safest path ! 
 Nor will the watchman slumber, though he sees 
 The wit and polish of the French enslav'd 
 By the bewitching goddess of debauch, 
 And all the ills entail'd upon the Frank ; 
 Or when he sees the warring continent 
 Expelling virtue by her barbarous sword. 
 The guardian of our home must still abide, 
 Firm as the rough-skinn'd oak that scorns the blasts 
 Of centuries of vicious winds and storms. 
 When error makes advance, 'tis his to warn, 
 And call his host of moral champions forth 
 To guard the truth, and slay the last remains 
 Of lust, concupiscence, and nameless vice 
 From all their secret haunts ; that, purged and prun'd, 
 The tree of virtue, planted high in state. 
 Shall spread its healing branches o'er the realm, 
 Till purity and goodness rule our land. 
 
 From chaste desires and purity of life 
 Proceed a peaceful conscience, which will yield 
 A modest cheerfulness — a thing distinct, 
 And much oppos'd to mirth and wantonness— 
 To ribaldry, profanity, or vice. 
 A constant cheerful aspect cannot reign 
 Over a loathsome conscience ; cheerfulness 
 Is but the overflow of genuine bliss 
 From souls ordain'd to constant chastity : 
 
192 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 
 
 She will not brood upon the filthy nest 
 
 Of flesh polluted, or of minds depraVd ; 
 
 However much the sinner feigns to smile, 
 
 There's always acrimony in his cup ; 
 
 His boisterous mirth is but a sudden gush 
 
 Of temporary transport ; he must sink, 
 
 Bragg'd by his crimes, from his presum'd delight, 
 
 To taste of care and feel his countenance fall, 
 
 Oppress'd by stout depravity, like Cain, 
 
 When bloody vengeance wrought her fearful work. 
 
 Once the Athenian youth, licentious grown, 
 Procur'd the death of good old Socrates, 
 Because his precepts were for them too stern : 
 But soon the Pow'rs aveng'd his death. So now, 
 If all true saints were slain, calamity 
 Would fiercely tramp the nation underfoot : 
 Ye heavens protect the good, and for their sake 
 Defer the judgment of our wicked isle ! 
 
 HATKED. 
 
 I hate the proud, the lordly leer ; 
 
 I hate the double scheme ; 
 I hate the soul that's not sincere, 
 
 And brutes that angels seem. 
 I hate the man, the fiend, the slave, 
 
 Devoid of decent sense, 
 Who will another's blessings crave 
 
 On any false pretence. 
 I scarce can love ! my love's destroy'd 
 
 By treach'rous words and deeds ! 
 Yet him I'll love whose life's employ'd 
 
 To heal the wound that bleeds. 
 
TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 193 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Ambition ; her deeds— Alexander, Napoleon, the Duke— Am- 
 bition pretends to virtue, yet is destructive, tantalizing, treacherous ; 
 her effects on high breeding and on the English in general — On 
 Politicians— No bliss in Ambition ; her victims — the Muse rejects 
 Ambition, except in virtue. 
 
 Of every varied passion or excess 
 That ruptures human souls, Ambition rears 
 With most of majesty, and casts disdain 
 On all inferior rage ; she apes most kin 
 To virtue of the vices' medley train. 
 Of patriotic zeal her breath distils 
 Like frankincense and myrrh — of glorious deeds, 
 Of martial grandeur, and divine exploits. 
 She sends our seamen on the raging floods, 
 Where, charg'd with savage, deathly elements, 
 Our floating castles run their dauntless course, 
 And cast their lightning and their thunders forth, 
 To consternate our foes. She takes the hand 
 Of the philanthropist, and leads him forth 
 Through all the quarters of the globe ; all zones 
 Of temp' rate, torrid, frigid climes ; o'er sands 
 Of Afric's desert, where the fevers burn ; 
 Thro' wildest regions of America ; 
 And Asia's hostile tribes, to reap the fame 
 Of bounteous charity ; to catch the breath 
 Of popular applause ; to be admir'd 
 As the emancipator of his race 
 From physical and moral ills, and hail'd 
 As the deliverer of captiv'd men. 
 She marks our soldiers' path to fields of blood, 
 Where man, insatiate for the life of man, 
 Hews down and tramples on his brother's neck, 
 
194 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 
 
 To gain a step to reach the house of fame ; 
 
 All to be starr'd and garter'd by his King, 
 
 And hail'd a knight. Then on our native soil 
 
 Ambition calls our country gentleman 
 
 From rural bliss to senatorial strife, 
 
 To steer the vagrant consciences and fates 
 
 Of the misguided, medley multitude ; 
 
 And in the fickle worship of the throng, 
 
 Be prais'd or blam'd for what he never knew 
 
 Of casual bliss, or grievous ills endur'd ; 
 
 And what he does for good they oft pervert : 
 
 Yet for his honour he must onward press ; 
 
 Ambition will not let her traces slack, 
 
 But like a young, unbroken, fiery steed, 
 
 She drags him through the pits of vulgar mire, 
 
 Until his pristine dignity is soil'd — 
 
 His native virtue all demoraliz'd ! 
 
 To snatch the sceptre from the lawful heir, 
 Ambition prompts the tyrant : it was she 
 Sent Alexander forth to scourge the world ; 
 And bid Napoleon seek imperial pow'r 
 O'er all the modern kings, and set the brave 
 Old English Duke to stay his course. 
 All these, and thousands more, ambitious mad, 
 Seem'd virtuous most between the teeth of vice ; 
 When, in the rage for greatness, they perform'd 
 Their seeming virtuous brav'ry, such as brings 
 From iron-fmgei''d famine, war, and death 
 The horn of peace and plenty, stor'd with good, 
 To bless a wonder-working people. If 
 To virtue any vice pretends it, sure, 
 Must be Ambition ; yet in th' other scale 
 Her stains of crime are deep, like oxide-teeth 
 That gnaw the warrior's sword, when heavenly dew 
 Would print her kisses on the glittering blade ; 
 The promis'd favour brings a murdering curse. 
 Effects of good and ill are thus combin'd 
 In the best deeds that high Ambition works. 
 
TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 195 
 
 A strange compound of all excessive things, 
 
 She pleases but to cheat ; she by the throat 
 
 Drags peaceful nations down, and prostrate hurls 
 
 The yielding victims, while the weeping virtues 
 
 Scarcely dare oppose. She scorns the prey 
 
 Of petty morsels Envy deigns to take ; 
 
 She murders not her ones, or tens, or scores, 
 
 Like the inferior passions, save she strikes 
 
 At kings or mighty persons : she hews down 
 
 Whole fields and armies at one desperate swoop ; 
 
 Sinks deep in glutton waves great fleets at once ; 
 
 Dips continents in wo — the earth in strife : 
 
 She blows a moral tempest ; paves her path 
 
 To seats of honour with the bleeding limbs 
 
 Of warriors. She tantalizes on 
 
 "With vain delusions ; and through pain and want 
 
 Bears up the thought- worn scholar, wan and weak 
 
 With day and nightly care, till all his strength 
 
 Is gone, and every farthing spent, to gain 
 
 Some sacred niche of treach'rous templed fame ; 
 
 To have his name enshrin'd in classic lore ; 
 
 To rise within the memories of men, 
 
 Who scom'd him living, by posthumous works — 
 
 A monument that future times shall bless : 
 
 And yet his wife and children, desolate, 
 
 She leaves expos'd to all the ills of life, 
 
 And robs the world of him, the finest work 
 
 That nature hath produc'd ; drives off the soul 
 
 That might have blest the eai*th with sense and peace, 
 
 And, prematurely, in its spring-tide, blasts 
 
 The fruit that summer should with ripeness fill, 
 
 And autumn make delicious. Shame and hate 
 
 Be on the adverse passions which deceive ; 
 
 And curs'd the cruel winds that blow distress 
 
 To sacrifice those sons of genius. 
 
 Ambition oft hath taught the fair the arts 
 Of treachery ; to cheat their early loves, 
 And, for the empty glitter of the great, 
 
196 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 
 
 Barter the virtuous sweets of humble joy ; 
 While some for good and bad those partners take, 
 For life, they secretly in heart detest ; 
 And Hymen witnesses their piteous lies. 
 
 Those scions of the barons, knights, and lords, 
 The younger sons, for whom th' estates are not, 
 Blest but with poverty and high desires, 
 Go forth to ransack universal earth 
 In search of hollow grandeur, cash, and plumes ; 
 Still, firmly to then blood and breeding glu'd, 
 They toil incessant to maintain their birth ; 
 And, jealous of their honour, must command — 
 Must gain the prize Ambition holds to view, 
 Till, deck'd with tenfold glory, some return 
 In princely greatness ; some, by Fate deceiVd, 
 Refusing life with ignominious toil, 
 Amid the hottest battle rush and die, 
 In proud Ambition's chains, to consecrate, 
 By death, a fame which life refus'd to grant. 
 
 This secret spring exalts the English mind 
 To deeds magnanimous ; resolVd, unscar'd, 
 Devoted to the purpose ; firm to push 
 To victory ; contemptuous of flight ; 
 Reckless of fear, or threat'ning pow'rs of foes ; 
 Impatient of restraint, it lives alone 
 For splendid victory or stubborn death. 
 Our national ambition so prevails, 
 That life seems useless when of glory shorn. 
 But many are the widows' mournful groans, 
 And orphans' pains, that daily are produced 
 From this proud glutton temper ; friends and foes, 
 Both, hence have grief ; and love and fear proceed 
 All from the source of our ambitious blood. 
 
 Then hollow politicians, in the list 
 Of glory-seekers, spin their bombast stuff 
 To woi'k a nation up to rioting ; 
 Aspiring to be senators, or kings 
 Themselves, whom neither kings nor people heed ; 
 
TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 197 
 
 As to amuse, we suffer them awhile, 
 
 And, when sufficiently they act the fool, 
 
 Then send them to their shops to work their trades ; 
 
 Or the obstreperous, like schoolboy rogues, 
 
 Sty up in corners till they lose their fume. 
 
 Ah ! frail ambitious spirit ! what distress, 
 What evils, too, are thine ! Thy virtues have 
 No name in the anatomy of bliss ! 
 Thy trophies are deluded victim ghosts, 
 With restless skeletons, that leave their homes, 
 And round thy altar gnash, and snarl distress. 
 Oft, most successful, most their souls upbraid, 
 And drive them on disconsolate and wild, 
 With hag unearthly visage of the doom'd ; 
 They work their desolation void of aid 
 Or sympathy, and thy most prosperous sons, 
 With broken constitutions lingering on, 
 But prove thy base essential vanity. 
 Thou fill'st the dens of poverty and crime — 
 The poor-law citadel with blighted men ; 
 Bedlam and gaol with wrecks of human might, 
 And dregs of mortal valour, whence the pith 
 Of vig'rous youth was ripp'd in thy campaigns ; 
 All left in disappointment, frail, forlorn, 
 To eke existence out with misery ; 
 With blasted hopes and stinging consciences ; 
 Abus'd by keepers of a hoggish mould, 
 Whom still those view with high contempt and scorn : 
 While some are laid in cruel bondage lock'd, 
 Neglected, lost, unheeded by the world ; 
 Betray'd by kin, who, glad to wipe them off, 
 Leave them disown'd ; or some, of gen'rous blood. 
 Feed these poor victim-worms on pittance lean. 
 These are the fruits of foul Ambition's grasp ! 
 Then give me not Ambition ! Let me live 
 In humble, sweet content ! and let my lot 
 Be built on solid bliss, lest the exchange 
 Should run beyond the " par" I dare to pay. 
 
MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 
 
 To buy Ambition at the price of peace 
 
 Is twice five hundred shillings for a pound. 
 
 Yet let Ambition have a virtuous sway- 
 To gain a moral glory ; let me rise, 
 In might, to work a victory of the soul — 
 A conquest o'er my passions and my vice : 
 Let me aspire beyond the sensual toys 
 That please the menial minds, who toil for crowns, 
 For lands, for empires, pride and state, and all 
 Their empty baubles ! My ambition be 
 To rule myself ; my duty to perform ; 
 My conscience to preserve ; my ways to guide ; 
 To prove what dignity is yet in man, 
 Bv'n in his wreck ; to train my spirit up 
 Unto immortal greatness, by the rules 
 And precepts of the truth ; that thus set free 
 From all polluting fetters, I may find 
 A pure elysium for th' ambitious mind ! 
 
TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 199 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Immoderation — Intemperance — Gluttony — Confidence — Com- 
 plaisancy — Buffoonery — Of Matter and Mind — Integrity— -Error 
 from Ignorance ; from Determination — Excess of Wealth — Intoler- 
 ance—Rioting — Poverty ; its misfortune— The Brave— Necessity. 
 
 Immoderation is the curse of men ; 
 Nor less of Englishmen than those we deem 
 Inferiors in their birth and intellect. 
 The censur'd passions were themselves no ill 
 Save in th' excess. Hypocrisy, well curb'd, 
 And held in reins by all the moral pow'rs, 
 Would be but prudent caution, needful oft 
 To save our purpose from perversive hate. 
 Ambition, pride, and vanity are but 
 The misgrown principles of rectitude — 
 The native goodness of the human soul, 
 By the Creator giv'n to bless our race, 
 Till, lost to due restraint of moral truth, 
 They run extravagant, and change their forms 
 From comely goodness into nauseous vice. 
 Thus sin and error out from virtue spring, 
 As hell once sprang from heav'n, and devils rose 
 From angels, high and glorious in estate : 
 So all intemperances destructive prove, 
 And fill society with various woes. 
 
 Excess in stimulating food and drink, 
 Led on by natural appetites indulg'd, 
 Has made us grow, like wolves, carnivorous, 
 Unable to exist, save in the pride 
 Of worrying, unmeasur'd gluttony, 
 Consuming lands of flesh and seas of wine, 
 Of spirits, and all burning condiments : 
 
200 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 
 
 Yet, ravening in disquietude, we rake 
 The earth to please our gustatory nerves. 
 
 Then, in the sphere of manners, oft we see 
 Unguarded confidence to insult grows, 
 And turns this manly grace to brutish crime. 
 Thus carried, by impulsive vanity, 
 Beyond the check of natural self-control, 
 T^e multitudes usurp ungenial pow'rs, 
 And send convulsive anarchy abroad, 
 To pull the trembling nations by the ears ; 
 And, but for strong instinctive wisdom, would 
 Cast empires to the wind, and trample thrones, 
 Dominions, kings, and senates into dust ; 
 Nursing rebellion, revolution, war, 
 For some Utopian dream they know not what, 
 Whose best effects are questionably good. 
 
 Then, in the next extreme, we find the hosts 
 Of crouching sycophants, who fawn about 
 And practise mock complaisance on the great, 
 In servile courtesy, that shames and makes 
 The man of genuine greatness stand aghast, 
 Like some uncultivated country clown. 
 If lords, or kings, or princes walk abroad, 
 These parasites, with foolishness profuse, 
 Their private petty purposes to gain, 
 Expend the patience of the noble wise, 
 And drive them to unwish'd-for privacy, 
 To spend their time as never else they would. 
 If kings and queens were gods, there would be men, 
 If possible, to spoil their righteous blood, 
 And then bewray the faults themselves begat. 
 
 By being oft buffoon' d, the great at times 
 Their well-bred tempers lose, and play the churl 
 Alike to all, the virtuous and the base. 
 Yet bear, ye noble guardians of the truth, 
 With all the vulgar caprice of our race ; 
 Refuse us not the timely succ'ring hand, 
 Nor take advantage of our wild excess : 
 
TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 201 
 
 For still immoderation hugs us on 
 Through every path and turning of our life. 
 Infatuated by the love of fame. 
 Honour, or large acquisitive designs, 
 "We lose fair virtue's balance, and are cast, 
 Like shipwreck'd seamen, on unfriendly rocks 
 Of callous-hearted discord, toil, and care, 
 That dash all trace of morals from our souls, 
 And the original intent of man % 
 
 Is thwarted by unceasing foolishness. 
 
 In the extremes of matter there is sense 
 To point our vagrant intellect to truth, 
 And teach the emptiness of frail desires. 
 But sure some blinding imperfections reign, 
 And use Satanic influence o'er the mind, 
 The meaner vascillating themes to choose : 
 For yet we have some moral courage left, 
 Could it but ken the truth ; but, oft betrayed, 
 'Tis heedless grown ; the principle decays, 
 And we are left to stumble in the dark. 
 
 Would that integrity were glu'd to man 
 So close and firm, he could not cast it off 
 But skin his very soul ! Such saving clause 
 Would purify his moral bent, and curb 
 Th' erratic visions of his feeble thought. 
 
 Compassion is the due of him who errs 
 Through lack of might ; in whom designing knaves, 
 With greater force of villany and scheme, 
 Break down his frail opposing arguments, 
 And whirl him on the vortices of vice, 
 A captive to their int'rest and their will. 
 But when the wilful run the round of crime, 
 In all voluptuous degrees, through choice- 
 Through sheer dishonesty of selfish lust 
 Seek all extremes of vicious principle, 
 'Tis then a nation suffers ; then she needs 
 The succour of the firm discerning few, 
 
202 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 
 
 The man who wanders through his erring wits— 
 Who strays from truth because his way is dark, 
 With gladness yields to the persuasive hand 
 That gently draws him to his proper path. 
 Our errors spring from general defects 
 Of courage, wisdom, or morality : 
 But he, with medium share of natural sense, 
 Hath still in him a safe response to truth, 
 Ihrough which we may reclaim his vagrant soul. 
 
 Excess of good appears a paradox ; 
 Yet 'tis no less a truth, that giant wealth 
 Destroys the holy sympathies of man, 
 And feeds his follies up ; incites his lust — 
 His pride ; and finds out new degrees of vice — 
 More pastures where his callous nerves may feed, 
 And grow more cruel to the weeping poor. 
 Wealth lifts the high beyond their means to see 
 The sorrows of the low, and stops their ears, 
 So that they seldom hear the cries of wo. 
 Wealth spoils humanity ; it frees the rich 
 From many pangs of common people's lot ; 
 And hence they neither feel nor comprehend 
 How pleasant 'tis to bar their teeth from food ; 
 To bear about some lingering disease 
 Through all the paths of toil ; to daily feel 
 Their hunger'd bodies wasting unto death ; 
 While yet their families are young, untaught, 
 Left unprovided for their future life, 
 And cast abroad upon conflicting fates. 
 
 These and a thousand cares the rich know not, 
 Who hence believe the poor improvident, 
 And then their candour and compassion check ; 
 And more intolerant and haughty grow, 
 Until the poor, beyond their patience curb'd, 
 Break out in open rioting and crime, 
 In equal magnitude of wild excess, 
 Alike deplorable to virtue's eyes ; 
 For all extremes are equally at fault. 
 
TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 203 
 
 And yet th' extremes which poverty- 
 Seem most excusable of all the train : 
 They are the fruits of ignorance, of pain, 
 And every evil moral influence, 
 That daily bind men to their low estate ; 
 From whence no art of theirs can set them free. 
 What wonder if those poor, at times, break forth, 
 Contrary to their better reasoning sense, 
 And madly risk whate'er of good they have ! * 
 
 How poverty can change the noble mind ! 
 Can break the honest spirit down, to deal 
 In double shifting subterfuge, and seem 
 A rogue when most inclin'd to do the truth : 
 The poor man's poverty denies his wish, 
 And anchors all his goodness in the mire ; 
 His best intent is thought hypocrisy — 
 His conscientious truth oft deem'd a lie ; 
 His means deny what good he loves to do, 
 And, while his truth of heart remains, he still 
 Holds on, in hope, to promise what is just ; 
 Till fate, at last, denies him pow'r to pay, 
 And all pronounce him rogue. This poverty 
 Makes more of seeming rogues than any vice 
 That stains the heart : it gives the will to do, 
 But, in performances, deceives that will, 
 While all account the failure as a theft. 
 
 This poverty's a fatal accident, 
 That breaks the bones of spotless, honest fame, 
 Until it has no strength to stand erect ; 
 For he who once stood high in loves of men 
 Is martyr'd when his riches take the wing. 
 Cash makes the stately vessels sail in pride, 
 But poverty will all their timbers rot, 
 Till they must founder in th' unpitying wave. 
 Cash sets the brutish, sturdy-headed man 
 To hector, domineer, and point on those 
 Whose natures far exceed the worth of his. 
 The poor man cannot borrow, nor can buy 
 
204 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 
 
 But for some present cash, while richer men, 
 With confidence, to borrow thousands go ; 
 May run their bills for years, to strain the trade ; 
 Then turning bankrupt, hurl their friends to ruin. 
 Their hard-bound creditors dar'd not presume 
 To ask their cash, and sink to rise no more. 
 
 The want of cash makes poverty oft sneak 
 Iu, trick and artifice, and practise crime 
 It ne'er had known but for this deadly curse. 
 
 Oh, frail humanity ! I would that tears 
 Of honest truth could wash thy vices clean ; 
 Then would I be effeminate awhile ; 
 My substance should to briny fluids change, 
 To cleanse me from the laws of vanity. 
 
 Yet honour to the brave, the generous great, 
 Who dare to thwart the common course of wrong, 
 And seem t' atone for other people's faults 
 By unexpected deeds of kindliness ; 
 By pity, even to a stranger giv'n, 
 Which makes the charity feel doubly good. 
 May Heav'n adorn such moral warrior, 
 Who, to the credit of our nation, yet 
 Holds kindly forth the timely succouring hand. 
 A stranger's hand oft gives a richer boon 
 Than kindred blood. Hear this, my quondam friends 
 Nor more distract with false and specious howl ! 
 I was not born to live in mockery! 
 Or ever known to use it o'er the fall'n. 
 
 0, curs' d necessity, that chills my blood ; 
 That drives me into baseness which I hate ; 
 That bids me live without a gleam of hope, 
 Or die without the pow'r to meet my foes ! 
 But stay ! run not to infamous extremes ; 
 For balm is yet in Britain, which may work 
 The turpitude of morals from our land. 
 
TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 205 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Men curse themselves by Conflicts and Discontent — Superficiality 
 and Disappointment — Sinking of Energy ; Despair — Felo de SE — 
 Cowardice and Bravery — Ingenuity ; its operations — Trade — 
 Prosperity and reverse— The Antidote— Patient rerseverance. 
 
 Mankind, toss'd high on all conflicting ills, 
 Will not, or cannot thrive ; but curse themselves, 
 And plunge about upon the sea of strife, 
 Thro' adverse winds and tides, from wave to wave ; 
 From great to greater perturbation run, 
 As though intent to taste all bitter weeds — 
 All rank and nauseous draughts that mortal knows. 
 Still Discontent serves unto them a god, 
 At whose unholy shrine they worship much, 
 And in whose rites they slaughter all their herds. 
 He with a cottage for some mansion pines, 
 And he with realms still covets all the earth. 
 
 So boundless, so extravagant, is man, 
 For ever striving for some good unknown : 
 Forgetful of his present joys, he climbs 
 To higher hills, to rise beyond the clouds — 
 The clouds of darken' d circumstantial life. 
 But fate still fences round his hopes and him : 
 He fights but for a vision — is but man ; 
 And still the cares and woes of man are his. 
 
 And thus we trifle out the irksome space 
 That nature most allows ; and thus, thro' life, 
 In phantom chases we pursue our dreams, 
 And end, at last, our hopes and joys, and cares, 
 As frail and flick'fing smoke, which tapers yield 
 When smouldering in accumulated dregs. 
 
206 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 
 
 'Tis thus the turmoil of our life is vain — 
 Ts lighter, more uncertain than the wind ; 
 When most we think to reap, then, thwarted most, 
 We victims fall to desolating care. 
 
 In silly hoats we dare the moral seas, 
 Devoid of compass, helm, or sail, or oar ; 
 And, on the mighty storms of passions, strive 
 To skim the tide of fortune, and of bliss. 
 But, thus equipp'd, how foolish the attempt ; 
 Nor pride, rtbr subterfuge, can bear us through ; 
 Nor can ambition, neither envy's guile, 
 Secure the port of rest, or ease the mind. 
 Nor peace, nor joy, is the reward of him 
 Who takes time's faulty compass for his guide ; 
 Still hurried on confusive billows, wild, 
 He sinks his vessel e'er he learns to steer ; 
 Unfix'd in purpose, void of anchoring ground, 
 His course is random, and his port unknown ; 
 His latitudes, and longitudes, and charts, 
 And all his reck'ning mostly far untrue. 
 
 The mania of outward show usurps 
 Control o'er sterner, straighter, humble sense. 
 As birds that fly amid the upper air, 
 Till scarce they see the surface of the land, 
 Pass over many fruits attainable 
 To those of lower course ; so towering men 
 Of shallow pride, and superficial wit, 
 Outrun themselves, and pass the greater boon 
 That well-instructed, graver wisdom gains ; 
 Their hope puts forth her realizing hand, 
 But gets destroying serpents by the fang, 
 And weeping Disappointment seals their fate. 
 Then Discord snatches up her chariot-reins, 
 And pushes on the mad career of strife. 
 
 The men of wisest sense are oft betray'd ; 
 They find, at last, they liv'd and toil'd in vain ; 
 And die more destitute than they were born, 
 
TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 207 
 
 Because, unwittingly, they soar too high ; 
 
 Or, taking hapless turns, their prizes lose. 
 
 How much the more, then, must the thoughtless crowd 
 
 Display the childish sympathies of man 
 
 In trifling superficial foolishness. 
 
 Thus wearied by unfruitful toils and cares, 
 By empty sounds — by tinsel, baubles, toys, 
 The striving spirits of mankind, at last, 
 Succumb beneath their overgrowing load ; 
 Their youthful energies and valour sink, 
 Until that fiend, Despair, supplies the touch 
 That finishes the portraiture of flesh. 
 The proud, the mighty, and the gorgeous once, 
 Now sinking with his load of mortal ills, 
 Resolves at last to struggle on no more 
 Amid his homely griefs, but boldly launch 
 To other seas, to risk the sterner fates : 
 To wo, oblivion, or suppos'd redress 
 He pushes out his terror-stricken soul 
 From her frail home, by suicidal hands. 
 
 So perish many of the outworn souls, 
 Whose chequer'd lives no more afford a gleam 
 Of present peace or tantalizing hope, 
 To cheer their troubled, plodding, ebbing life. 
 Thus, too, unnaturally fall the brave, 
 Who, by mistaken courage, strive to shun 
 Tho evil of their day. 
 
 Felo-de-se ! 
 Thy fearful name, like an electric shock, 
 Strikes feeble reason down in black dismay ; 
 Like light'ning, scorches up the vital pow'rs 
 To stand aghast in temporary death, 
 In wonder at thy monstrous weaknesses, 
 The self-engender' d frailties of thy race ! 
 Men still asham'd to own such depth of crime, 
 T' extenuate the fault, invent new names, 
 That seem to change the essence of the deed, 
 And so to cheat the point of virtue's truth. 
 
208 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 
 
 Were it not braver yet to stoutly bear 
 Some few short years, at most, the toil of time ; 
 Still buffet through the bursting waves of strife, 
 Display the nobler side of natural pride, 
 Ambition, envy, and the sterner traits 
 Of manly virtue, persevering on 
 Amid all real and apparent ills ? 
 'Tis cowardly to yield and run the war ! 
 True honour must fight through her hardest foes 
 'Tis mean to use unlawful schemes to shun 
 The certain evil of our mortal state ; 
 'Tis nobler much, and ornaments the man, 
 To live with patience to his natural end, 
 Waiting, with fortitude, whate'er betides. 
 He is the glorious man, the pride of earth, 
 Whom perseverance guides ! whom duty rules ! 
 Who, undismay'd by all conflicting pow'rs, 
 Still pushes on for virtue's fair reward, 
 Ambitious for the smiling of his God. 
 
 And yet what wonder, when our mortal ills 
 Are fully felt, that feeble reason reels, 
 And falters in her course, like drunken men, 
 Till, dashing all her will and reason out, 
 She breaks the equilibrium of the soul, 
 And feasts upon her own or other's blood ! 
 Perverting nature by her partial views, 
 She vascillates between the right and wrong — 
 Turns joy to grief, and comfort to despair. 
 
 Man's ingenuity is tax'd to plan 
 All novel sources for more creature joys. 
 All new inventions, sciences, and arts, 
 By turns maintain the universal vogue ; 
 The modes of manufactures daily change ; 
 All ways and means of witty skill are us'd 
 To find new fortunes, luxury, or boast ; 
 To plan new schemes to pass through land and sea, 
 That seem 't annihilate both space and time, 
 
TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 209 
 
 And so combine, in one short wandering life, 
 The pleasures and the scenes of twice the span. 
 
 The bold successful artist, when he gains 
 Some wondrous step in scientific skill, 
 That turns the process of extensive trades, 
 And makes a nation bow to his designs, 
 Receives applause for genius ; thrives awhile ; 
 Throws thousands out from well-taught humble toil ; 
 Runs on in glory, as a master-spirit, 
 And grows in fatness on the common loss ; 
 Till one, more bless' d, climbs higher still in parts, 
 And casts all former faVrites to the dust, 
 To reign his turn of joy a little space : 
 He daily grows in magnitude and fame, 
 Till in his firmament he brightest shines, 
 And gains from men a menial worshipping, 
 As the controlling star of mundane fate. 
 Thus all, in turns, are mighty ; all are low ; 
 All thrive, or pine, as genius leads the way ; 
 For each invented novelty is hail'd 
 By greedy multitudes as a great boon, 
 That shall recruit their drooping energies, 
 And feed their life's career with cream of joy. 
 
 Ambition pushes ingenuity 
 Apace, through all the circles of the arts, 
 The sciences, professions, pleasures, trades ; 
 Each day hath new pretensions, all as vain 
 As those each day discards, — till earth is gorg'd 
 With cures, nepenthes, and panaceas, 
 Each with its promissory principal 
 And interest, cent, per cent. ; but bills return'd, 
 With heavy costs, bring these inventions down ; 
 Some crisis, or some panic, strikes them all, 
 And each and all in some discredit fall. 
 
 Nor could the system its disgrace escape ; 
 For, built on wrecks, it must to ruin turn : 
 The means it uses must on it revert, 
 As giants fall by other mighty hands. 
 
 t 2 
 
210 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 
 
 By ingenuity all crafts arise — 
 All practices — all systems, arts, and trades ; 
 And this same ingenuity, o'ergrown 
 Alike by too great impulse, slays them all ! 
 
 When trade is prosp'rous, all admire its charms ; 
 The bankers and the lawyers, made of cash, 
 Can lend large sums to speculative men, 
 (Yet always on the first securities !) 
 To make their wealth by force of others' brains. 
 But should some trifling breeze of adverse wind 
 Sweep the horizon of commercial views, 
 The daily news they scan with eager haste ; 
 Then bankers' "sweating-rooms" are much employ'd ! 
 The lawyers' thumb-screw their dependencies ! 
 And squeeze their helpless clients' profits out. 
 These selfish patrons curb the general course ; 
 They stay abruptly their assisting hands, 
 And the ingenious tribes are sacrific'd. 
 So pass the speculative visions on, 
 As solar smiles paint on the blacken'd sky 
 The bow of hope : but soon the sun retires ; 
 He hides behind the clouds, the bow departs, 
 And furious storms reverse the promis'd bliss. 
 Great Mammon mostly triumphs over Mind, 
 And Thought and Talent ars the fools of wealth. 
 
 What antidote, then, have we but resolve 
 To patiently endure the chequer'd lot 
 That forms the substance of our short career ? 
 To be inspir'd with higher, holier thoughts, 
 And, looking down disdainfully upon 
 The minor, trifling toils of common strife, 
 Defy, and still avoid, the tempting pow'rs, 
 That strive to snare our rectitude of soul ? 
 To choose the path of truth, and persevere, 
 Still striving with the trials of the way ; 
 Still holding on thro' all opposing war 
 Of body, soul, or circumstantial ill. 
 
TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 211 
 
 Firm perseverance in a good resolve 
 Is the sheet-anchor of th' aspiring soul, 
 By which she rides the storms and cuts the blast. 
 This is the secret road to good success — 
 The guardian of our peace, our constant friend ; 
 And well distinguishes the happy brave 
 From the poor trifling coward, who hath not 
 The might or will to act the part that's right. 
 
 Then persevere awhile ! ye may succeed 
 Even beyond the fairest views of hope. 
 "Without this charm, ye will be trodden down — 
 Will sink in tribulation's angry sea, 
 While yet you might in grandeur ride the main. 
 Bid the broad sea of vice reverse her tide, 
 And roll her horror back around her slaves, 
 Who in the path of darkness stumble on. 
 Take Nature for your guide, by Wisdom train' d, 
 And live subservient to the laws of Truth. 
 
 TRUTH. 
 
 Be Truth the star that guides our helm 
 Across the troubled seas of life ; 
 
 And then, if cares would overwhelm, 
 Its rays will guide us thro' the strife. 
 
 Be Truth the pow'r we daily court 
 To fill the secrets of our soul ; 
 
 And it will furnish us a fort 
 That never tyrant may control. 
 
 Be Truth the word we daily speak, 
 Whate'er transactions we perform ; 
 
 Then should our foes their hatred wreak, 
 We may deride their feeble storm. 
 
 Be Truth the treasure we lay up, 
 Thro' every state, where'er we live ; 
 
 Then heav'n at last will fill our cup 
 With the best joys that God can give ! 
 
212 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 The Purposes of Human Life— Perversion of Purposes— Frailty of 
 Man — Imperfection of the Human Mind in the present state, com- 
 pared with the Perfection of Vegetable and Animal Powers — 
 Future Perfection — Nature's Laws of Perfection — Reanimatio'n 
 and Immortality. 
 
 What is the purpose, then, of Man's career ? 
 Is it to waste his virtue, talents, strength, 
 In all the prodigalities of time ; 
 And then depart at random in the dark, 
 Both unprepar'd and reckless of the change ? 
 Or is't that we are to perversion born, 
 To be the sport of all conflicting pow'rs, 
 And chain'd by adverse laws, above our might, 
 Which bind us down to what we wish to shun ? 
 To live in unavailing toil and care ? 
 To struggle under loads of moral wrongs, 
 That sink, at last, our courage and our strength ? 
 To drive our rueful spirits from their home, 
 And bid us live and die in vanity ? 
 Is this strange pilgrimage of mortals meant 
 As merely trial of their skill and wit, 
 To make superior pow'rs a daily sport 
 Of laughter at the unavailing strife ? 
 Or is it not that men have run the lengths 
 Of wildest, wilful prodigality ? 
 Have courted ev'ry mischief, passion, vice 
 That lust hath made imperative of wrong ? 
 
 Why, could it be that nature, or her God, 
 That hath creative pow'r, should spend that pow'r, 
 And its companions, knowledge, wisdom, wit, 
 To make such very arrant fools and knaves ? 
 
TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 218 
 
 Nay, sure 'tis a derogatory thought, 
 
 That Virtue, which could make such wondrous things 
 
 Should make those things so wondrously absurd ! 
 
 Wisdom, like other parents, gets her like ; 
 
 And Wisdom, which at first created man, 
 
 Would sure produce him perfect in his kind. 
 
 But as some high-bred steed, on bounty fed, 
 
 Elate in pride and strength, hath haughty grown, 
 
 Headlong, above his wit, and spurn'd restraint 
 
 Of all the common reins, by dashing forth, 
 
 Soon furious to unseen destruction runs : 
 
 So man, regardless of the friendly curb 
 
 That Wisdom hath ordain' d, hath scorn'd the rein, 
 
 And new inventions form'd to rule himself : 
 
 But man, adverse to Him who made the man, 
 
 Hath plann'd new systems full of ev'ry ill, 
 
 Of error, passion, villany, and vice ; 
 
 And these are the ingredients of our cup 
 
 Which bitter all the purposes of life. 
 
 Now, foil'd by imperfections, men run through 
 A weary life of daily fruitless toil, — 
 Still pushing on for visionary bliss, 
 Which this erroneous state can ne'er attain : 
 And yet, untiring as the rolling years, 
 The mind pursues the cause and consequence 
 Of all created things in earth and heaven ; 
 Stretching in noble aspirations forth 
 To scan the secrets of the universe. 
 But feeble-born inheritors of flesh 
 Are bound by such a chain 6f weaknesses 
 Unto their frail estate, they cannot rise 
 Beyond the span their frailties have prescrib'd ; 
 For when the growing mind attains the age 
 To recognise some purposes of things, 
 Then matter fails to work the equal task ; 
 The muscles, sinews, vessels, bones, or nerves 
 Are ruptur'd, numb'd, or suffering decay ; 
 Become too frail to bear the spirit up, 
 Through the fatigues the rising mind prescribes ; 
 
214 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 
 
 Till man, imperfect yet in wit and sense — 
 
 Unripe in all his thoughts and principles — 
 
 Succumbs beneath the frailties of the flesh ; 
 
 Betrays a weakness in created good — 
 
 A strange deficiency of consequence 
 
 Not else beheld in all the universe. 
 
 He sinks before his zenith is acquir'd ; 
 
 His glass is broke before his sand is run ; 
 
 His stem is cut before his flow'r is blown ; 
 
 His root decays before his fruit is ripe ; 
 
 Man dies as naught else in creation dies ! 
 
 The plants and trees to full perfection grow, 
 
 And at the moment of their ripeness fail ; 
 
 And all the other animals go on 
 
 To grow and fatten to a certain state — 
 
 To know as much as they were made to learn, 
 
 Bach perfect in his own specific kind. 
 
 But man, unfill'd, unripe, aspiring still 
 
 To further lengths and depths of Wisdom's creed, 
 
 To fill the great vacuity of soul, 
 
 Which yet the wisest and the mightiest feel, 
 
 And, feeling, scorn themselves as incomplete. 
 
 Man lives and dies an isolated thing, 
 
 In his pretensions and experience, 
 
 And falls before he gains his purpos'd end. 
 
 Then can it be that this expansive mind — 
 That all these mighty visions of the soul, 
 (Yea, even great, though crude and undefin'd,) 
 Were brought to being for no real use, 
 Save just to tantalize deluded hopes, 
 And then depart, through some uncertain course, 
 Before perfection of mankind is found ? 
 Nay, so imperfect here, we sure must grow 
 In some hereafter state, and fulness reap 
 For all our earth-sown seed. 
 
 'Tis nature's way 
 To run through all the graduated scale 
 Of beings, living or inanimate ; 
 
TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 215 
 
 And rise, by just and systematic steps, 
 All things proportionate to their designs : 
 But each one separate fruition hath, 
 That fills, but gluts not, its capacity. 
 The constant ebbing and the flowing sea ; 
 The waxing and alternate waning moon ; 
 The changeful, turning seasons of the year ; 
 The rise and fall of vegetative juice ; 
 . The harmony aud beauty of our sphere ; 
 The rich and fruitful produce of the earth, 
 And just proportion of all nature's pai'ts, 
 Bespeak perfection, and a purpos'd end, 
 Suiting the state of each and course of all ! 
 Showing the wisdom of the ruling law 
 That executes one universal scheme. 
 All things their zenith and their nadir have, 
 And to accomplishment their circle run ; 
 Then die in glory, crown' d with perfect fruit. 
 But man on earth is immature in mind — 
 Still fill'd with faults, with errors, and defects, 
 And looking forward to some riper state 
 Where his condition may be rectified. 
 
 Perhaps 'tis needful here (tho' scarce we know) 
 That evils should exist and crosses thwart, 
 Or that impediments should clog the wheels 
 That work the great machinery of mind ; 
 That hence our virtues may be kept alert 
 By constant struggling through a painful path ; 
 And that our mind, aware of enemies, 
 May never dare to slumber, but push on, 
 True hero-like, the more as foes increase. 
 But whether needful such a daily goad, 
 Or whether life be clogg'd with needless woes, 
 This truth we know, that ills thro' life exist ; 
 And that 'tis Wisdom's only certain plan 
 To stoutly struggle onward to the goal 
 Where all uncertainty, and pain, and ill 
 Shall vanish or transmute ; and when shall rise 
 Some more immaculate and happy state. 
 
216 MEDITATIONS ON THE MORAL AND SOCIAL 
 
 "Tis sure enough that Wisdom hath an end 
 Of happiness for all who rightly live ; 
 That imperfections shall he perfected ; 
 That cares and toilings shall at last depart ; 
 That mortal vanities shall go extinct ; 
 And all th' enigmas of this life be solv'd 
 Amid the grand result of Wisdom's laws, 
 When nature's mysteries are all reveal' d. 
 Till then we wait with patient toil and hope, 
 Like the incipient insect, buried deep 
 When winter comes, till spring revives its life, 
 And rears it up to glory else unknown : 
 So we shall doubtless rise to perfect bliss, 
 In some superior state that follows this, 
 Where meek regard to the Creator's laws 
 Shall rise reliev'd from all its earthly woes. 
 
 REANIMATION. 
 
 The beauties of the forest and the field, 
 The gay green leaves and richest floral hues, 
 Adorn' d. the varied prospects. Life prevail'd, 
 Fair and profuse ; in every field were beasts — 
 In every bush were birds, and on each leaf 
 Some curious insect, all in joyous strength ; 
 And fruits in clusters, pensile on the bough, 
 Offer'd their rich, refreshing, juicy sweets 
 To cheer the hearts of passing travellers. 
 The earth then carpeted with every bloom, 
 As one extended, lovely garden seem'd, 
 Pretending e'en to vie with Paradise. 
 
TEMPERAMENT OF THE TIMES. 217 
 
 But then the sun went round his winter path, 
 And tempests swept across the flowery earth ; 
 All nature starv'd ; the leaves and blossoms fell ; 
 Insects, and birds, and animals were lost 
 By millions ; and those of greater limb, 
 Which braVd the with'ring influence of the first, 
 Fell in the second storm, and would have died, 
 Had not some human succour them preserv'cL 
 The killing pow'r of winter's frost was felt, 
 And the descending snow wrapt nature up 
 In one unspotted shroud ; and man himself, 
 And his domestic beasts, could scarce survive ; 
 All starv'd and feeble, as in shades of death, 
 Some fail'd to bear the elementary strife. 
 
 But turning, now, from this far-distant tract, 
 Bright Sol again approaches in his strength, 
 And sends upon the earth a living ray ; 
 His heat recalls the principles of life ; 
 The deathly cold departs ; the ice and snow 
 No more maintain ; the fluids brisker run 
 Through animal and vegetative life, 
 And reassume the functions of their state : 
 Now beauteous vigour everywhere bursts forth, 
 And all again is pleasant, strong, and fair. 
 
 So is the course of man diversified ; 
 Now full of joy and health, and glorying, 
 He sports about and feels his muscles firm, 
 Knows no disease (save partially by name), 
 And scarce in summer-time of life conceives 
 How evil can betide : but winter comes, 
 And winter-death cuts down his hopes and him. 
 
 Yet there's another spring which must succeed 
 The wintry cold of death ; that spring will come 
 With the reviving power of heav'nly heat ; 
 The deathless sun that quickens other suns 
 Shall range in glory thro' the firmament — 
 Shall penetrate the ceilings of the grave. 
 And through our cold remains new life infuse. 
 
218 MEDITATIONS, &C, OF THE TIMES. 
 
 Ye stupid Infidels ! how can it be 
 That the bright Intellect of man, which soars 
 So far and high, can ever be extinct ? 
 Or how resolv'd to move in other beings ? 
 Come, see, whence has this intellect retir'd ? 
 The corpse is still as perfect in its parts 
 As is the living body ; all its limbs 
 And members only want the Spirit's aid 
 To act as heretofore. If yet the Spirit 
 Be nothing more than matter, 'twill be found 
 Among the members ; but where is it seen ? 
 Now, stretch your eyes, ye blind anatomists, 
 For, if the soul be matter, sure 'tis there, 
 As nothing can annihilated be ! 
 The fire or flood may change a body's form, 
 But still it must exist; yes, every atom ! 
 In spite of human skill ! Then where's the Mind ? 
 Ye cannot see it ! Ah ! but look again ! 
 It must be there ! Dissect the inner parts — 
 The head, the brain, the heart ; nay, every nerve 
 And every fibre ! Now, where is the Soul % 
 Nay ! what % Can it not yet be found ? Ah, fie ! 
 What, all the parts are there, and plain to see, 
 Except the sense and intellect are lost. 
 Yet something's lost that lifts a man so high 
 Above the race of brutes ; the man and beast, 
 In life so different, equal seem in death. 
 Then where's that difference gone ? Who saw it fly ? 
 For if material, 'twould be seen depart ; 
 But if it can't be seen, then 'tis a Spirit — 
 A Spirit that must live in ripen'd pow'r 
 When freed from its base lumbering load of clay ; 
 Fed by the vigour of a living Sun, 
 Through one eternal summer, shall sustain 
 The pleasant warmth, or painful scorching heat, 
 That hold dominion in the future states — 
 Shall taste in a superlative degree 
 Of Bliss or Wo ; that Bliss is Heaven — that Woe is 
 Hell! 
 
MISCELLANEOUS 
 SHORT POEMS 
 
 LIGHT. 
 
 Hail ! lovely light ! 
 
 The morning's bride, 
 So gay and bright 
 In orient pride, 
 Soft blushing thro' the concave East,, 
 To bless all eyes with beauty's feast, 
 
 For ever fair, 
 
 For ever new ! 
 No storms impair 
 Thy lovely hue ! 
 Sweet harbinger of pleasure ! 
 The source of fruit and treasure ! 
 
 Health conserver ! 
 
 Purifier ! 
 Life preserver ! 
 Vivifier ! 
 Oft would, when nature's foes assail, 
 "Without thy presence all men quail. 
 
 Then hail, fair light ! 
 
 The morning's bride, 
 So gay and bright 
 In orient pride ! 
 Still reign amidst the concave sky, 
 To bless with beauty every eye. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 
 
 THE LOST THOUGHT. 
 
 When day was fled, and night had come, 
 
 I laid me on my feathery bed ; 
 My thought untir'd, yet far would roam 
 
 Beyond the region of the head. 
 
 My soul, as imp'd for angel-flight, 
 The universe of things would sweep ; 
 
 Nor long fatigue, nor sable night, 
 
 Could force my rebel thought to sleep. 
 
 Then my imagination caught 
 
 A splendid vision in the view, 
 And captur'd, soon, a beauteous thought 
 
 From themes that heaVnly minds pursue. 
 
 Now satisfied, I sank to rest 
 
 In th' sluggish, deathly arms of sleep ; 
 Expecting that my mind, so bless' d, 
 
 This new inspiring theme would keep. 
 
 But in distress I wak'd at morn, 
 
 My treasur'd bliss of thought was fled ; 
 
 The rosy dreams from me were torn ! 
 And sweet imagination dead ! 
 
 With disappointed, hasty mind, 
 I stretch'd my sorrowing vision far, 
 
 The short-liv'd fairy thought to find 
 In earth, or moon, or sun, or star ! 
 
 My fiery soul then quickly scal'd 
 The mount where wiser angels dwell, 
 
 And o'er her nat'ral foars prevail' d, 
 To scan the dark abodes of hell. 
 
 But now no more, nor here, nor there, 
 
 This fugitive by me is seen ; 
 And, spite of all my memory's care, 
 
 To me 'tis tho' it ne'er had been. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 221 
 
 To the Omniscient eye alone 
 
 This flying thought must stand confess'd ; 
 And, as it once within me shone, 
 
 I pray again 'twould make me bless' d. 
 
 A VIRGIN SPRITE. 
 
 Like sunshine on the sea; 
 
 Like calm succeeding storm ; 
 Like flow'rets on the lea, 
 
 Of beauteous simple form ; 
 
 Like darkness lost in light ; 
 
 Like winter turn'd to spring ; 
 Or like the bird of night, 
 
 That lonely loves to sing ; 
 
 Like peace succeeding war ; 
 
 Like diamonds from the pit ; 
 Or like the polar star 
 
 With rays of glory lit ; 
 
 So is one virgin-sprite, 
 In recollection's view, 
 
 My memory's delight ! 
 Tho' old, for ever new ! 
 
 MONEY FAVOUR. 
 
 The deed that's deemed a sin in one 
 
 Seems virtue in another ; 
 The act that goes for crime in John 
 
 Gives merit to his brother : 
 For Johnny's brother has the cash, 
 
 While Johnny's poor and blighted ; 
 And he with money cuts a dash, 
 
 That chance may get him knighted. 
 v 2 
 
222 MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 
 
 TO SLEEP. 
 
 Sleep, thou art a welcome guest I 
 Sweet composer, balmy friend ! 
 
 Often thou, by timely rest, 
 
 Bring' st our daily woes an end. 
 
 Weary bones and aching flesh 
 Daily are by thee renew' d ; 
 
 By thine aid kept fair and fresh, 
 And with greater might imbu'd. 
 
 Come ! in gentle influence come ! 
 
 O'er my aching members spread ; 
 Call my wand'ring spirits home ; 
 
 Drive my caring from my head ! 
 
 In thy semi-death embrace 
 Let me sleep my pains away, 
 
 Till, with new-created grace, 
 Morning finds me fresh and gay. 
 
 LIVE IN HOPE. 
 
 Still live in hope, nor heed the clouds- 
 The threat'ning clouds that rise ; 
 
 We may survive the pending show'r, 
 And view serener skies. 
 
 Still live in hope, nor dread the foes 
 
 Who dare annoy thy path ; 
 We may o'ercome the worst of those, 
 
 And scorn their feeble wrath. 
 
 Still live in hope — there is a Pow'r 
 That gives us what is mete ; 
 
 And if to-day the cup be sour, 
 The morrow's may be sweet. 
 
 Then live in hope, nor once despair, 
 Tho' earth and hell oppress ; 
 
 Preserve thy heart with holy care, 
 And heav'n will bring redress. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 
 DELIA. 
 
 Young Delia was a charming girl ; 
 
 My soul did her approve : 
 Nay, 'tis a truth, I lov'd the girl, 
 
 But never told my love. 
 
 Her cheeks were fair, her eyes were clear 
 
 And lovely to behold ; 
 Yet though I held her beauty dear, 
 
 My love I never told ! 
 
 Another won her ! May he find 
 
 Her faithful as the dove : 
 My love could ne'er pollute her mind — 
 
 yhe never knew my love ! 
 
 May she to him in thraldom sweet 
 
 Her true affection prove ; 
 In kindness, now, we must not meet, 
 
 Lest she might learn my love. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 What means that heavy sigh, my dear, 
 That sounds so loud and deep ? 
 
 What means that downcast eye, my dear, 
 That seems to almost weep ? 
 
 Has some base youth been falsely wooing, 
 
 And tempted thee to love ? 
 Hast thou been cheated by the cooing 
 
 Of some pretended dove ? 
 
 Nay, cheer up, now, nor live despairing ! 
 
 Resume thy dimples, now ! 
 Cheer up, my love — forget thy caring, 
 
 And smooth thy furrow' d brow. 
 
 The world has joys yet undiscover'd, 
 To suit that heart of thine ! 
 
 And soon thy peace may be recover'd, 
 And bliss upon thee shine ! 
 
224 MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 
 
 AN ADVENTURE OF JOHN WISEACRE. 
 
 A lawyer's clerk from Whitby went 
 
 To gather master's cash ; 
 And on a horse, with empty purse, 
 
 Set off with splendid dash. 
 
 And when he'd made his best of trade, 
 
 Deliv'ring all the bills, 
 His shallow head was almost dead 
 
 With drinking ale by gills. 
 
 It came on night — not very light, 
 And he of ghosts did fear ; 
 
 As o'er the moor he trembled sore, 
 And dream'd his foes were near. 
 
 And 'tis a truth, a valiant truth ! 
 
 As now the wags declare, 
 He drew a brace of pistols out, 
 
 Declaring open war ! 
 
 He saw a thief, to his belief, 
 And lest he should be lost, 
 
 He brave did cock his pistol's lock, 
 And shot an old gate-post ! 
 
 Then to his horse with treble force 
 
 He laid the lashes on, 
 And swore he'd serve the villain out 
 
 By telling Lawyerson ! 
 
 Now, should the lawyer sue away, 
 
 To get some heavy cost, 
 Can you pretend what harm may pend 
 
 Over this old gate-post ? 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 225 
 
 A SUMMER'S DAY. 
 
 How lovely and gay is a summer's fine day, 
 
 When nature is sporting her plumes ; 
 When the beautiful sky is so bright and so high, 
 
 And the hVry of azure assumes. 
 
 When all species of bird in their music are heard, 
 
 Like heavenly harmony sweet ; 
 And everywhere the flow'rets prepare 
 
 Gay carpeting under the feet. 
 
 The cattle so sleek the fresh rivulets seek, 
 
 Or run to be cool'd in the shade ; 
 The insect and reptile sport out as they will, 
 
 And the secrets of nature invade. 
 
 Then, pleasant and sweet, all the objects we meet 
 
 Bestow us a welcoming smile, 
 Till the rain and the wind unite to rescind 
 
 The pleasures that bloom'd to beguile. 
 
 For tempests and storms, in terrible forms, 
 
 Oft give to sweet beauty a blow ; 
 And the richest of bloom is removed to the tomb 
 
 Before its full merit we know. 
 
 So man in his prime is as summer's gay time, 
 
 All fill'd with enjoyment and glee ; 
 His heart-strings rebound, and his efforts are crown'd 
 
 With fruits that are pleasant to see. 
 
 But a midsummer storm may in morals perform 
 
 The service of blighting your lot ; 
 And the mind when elate with its prosperous state 
 
 Should secure all the bliss it has got. 
 
226 MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 
 
 THE COURSE OF LIFE. 
 
 Year after year we onward glide 
 Down Time's impetuous stream, 
 
 While beauteous scenes on either side 
 Appear as but a dream. 
 
 Upstarting with a feeble cry,. 
 
 The babe comes into life ; 
 Then blooms as tho' it ne'er would die, 
 
 And smiles at care and strife. 
 
 Still growing with each passing day, 
 Anon fine manhood comes, 
 
 And blithe and cheerful, fresh and gay, 
 He revels, sports, and roams. 
 
 His prospects widen as he goes, 
 His hope grows large and bright, 
 
 And tho' at times some care he knows, 
 That care is only light. 
 
 He to and fro runs far and wide 
 
 To seek his own desires, 
 Till disappointments soon betide, 
 
 And oft his effort tires. 
 
 More hacknied now he feels the world — 
 More stiff, more fierce, more hard ; 
 
 For sorrow on his path is hurl'd, 
 And sweetest bliss is marr'd. 
 
 Advancing on through Life's short stage, 
 The charms of youth are past ; 
 
 His friends are lost, and growing age 
 Comes pressing on him fast. 
 
 He bends beneath his load of years, 
 And pants for lack of strength ; 
 
 And as he walks, his step appears 
 But half its former length. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 227 
 
 His beauteous locks have left his brow ; 
 
 His other hair is white ; 
 His senses all are dull and low, 
 
 And very dim his sight. 
 
 His spirit can no longer stop 
 
 In such an injur' d cell ; 
 The flesh falls dead — the soul flies up 
 
 To Heaven, or sinks to Hell ! 
 
 Then, living men, while you have breath, 
 
 Improve each moment's flight ; 
 For soon, at latest, Time and Death 
 
 Your noblest powers will smite ! 
 
 THE INVALID'S COMPLAINT, 
 
 Alas ! how wretched is my lot ; 
 
 The spring smiles not for me ! 
 For me the flow'rets blossom not, 
 
 On the gay distant lea. 
 
 I cannot walk abroad, to mark 
 How, to the fine blue sky, 
 
 The blithe and tunesome little lark 
 Goes flutt'ring up on high. 
 
 I must not taste the balmy air, 
 
 Or kick the pearly dew 
 That sparkles on the meadows fair. 
 
 While blushing day is new. 
 
 I lonely on the couch recline, 
 Submissive, painful, weak ; 
 
 To trust upon the will divine, 
 That can my bondage break. 
 
 I must, I will, my God adore, 
 Who measures out my wo ; 
 
 I might have been afflicted more, 
 But He restrains the foe. 
 
228 MISCELLANEOUS SHOET POEMS. 
 
 THE SWALLOW. 
 
 I love to see the swallows build, 
 
 And mark their native joy, 
 When spring with glee their hearts hath fill'd, 
 
 And love is their employ. 
 
 I stand transfix'd to watch their care — 
 
 Their diligence and skill ; 
 And see the mates their labour share 
 
 With kind endearing will. 
 
 By skilful rules and wondrous art 
 
 Their mansions they erect, 
 Compact and true in every part, 
 
 Their children to protect. 
 
 Should Metamorphosis require 
 That I my form should change, 
 
 The swallow's I would then desire, 
 And through the world would range ! 
 
 I and my mate would take the wing 
 
 Thro' every pleasant zone, 
 And the sweet song of nature sing 
 
 Wherever summer shone. 
 
 And when I wearied in my flight, 
 
 On Plato's grave I'd die ; 
 Or else by Sophocles alight, 
 
 Or near to Virgil lie ; 
 
 That their sweet themes, in nature's force, 
 
 Might kindle life in mine ; 
 Which, through devout creation's course, 
 
 Clinibs to the Fount Divine ! 
 

 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 229 
 
 REFLECTIONS ON WALKING ROUND YORK MINSTER, 
 
 Sunday, April 25th, 1852. 
 
 (With an Engraving.) 
 
 Bold and stupendous sacred pile ! 
 
 With awful reverence I stay 
 
 My cares a moment to beguile, 
 
 As thy rich fabric I survey. 
 
 The pow'r of heavenly thought 
 
 Hath thy great wonders wrought ; 
 
 None else such wit have caught 
 
 Save men divinely taught. 
 Tho' man affects to rule the arts, 
 TV Eternal School his might imparts ! 
 
 Around thy gorgeous parts I gaze, 
 Till, wrapt in wonder and amaze, 
 I stand constrain'd to give my praise 
 To the designs of ancient days. 
 
 Tho' we pretend to rise 
 Above the olden time ; 
 
 And think ourselves most wise, 
 Greatest, and most sublime ! 
 Yet here, if bias we remove, 
 Our equals our forefathers prove ! 
 
 Produce your pride of modern art, 
 In all its blooming consequence ; 
 Let mighty wealth its aid impart, 
 And choose your men of subtlest sense ! 
 
 Some nobler work devise, 
 
 Aspiring to the skies ; 
 
 Astound our wondering eyes 
 
 With new-born prodigies ; 
 We'll turn admiring, to compare, 
 If nobler marks your products bear. 
 
280 MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 
 
 Our modern patience mostly fails ; 
 Our persevering virtue quails ; 
 Foul avarice our will assails, 
 Awhile the love of sloth prevails ; 
 
 Hence run we oft astray ; 
 Tho' science leads the race ; 
 
 Our morals faint away ; 
 "We wane in manly grace ! 
 Traffic and haste usurp the throne 
 Whereon, of old, devotion shone ! 
 
 Our fathers were not void of mind ! 
 Or whence should we so mighty grow ? 
 
 And 'tis a question if we find 
 More wealth of soul amongst us now ! 
 This proudly vaunting age 
 Will wars of visions wage, 
 With scientific rage, 
 To swell th' historic page ! 
 
 And, like a meteor in the sky, 
 
 May burst by swelling over high ! 
 
 Still men are men, nor less, nor more, 
 Nor worse, nor better, than of yore ; 
 Only they run new phases through, 
 And take new forms in most they do. 
 
 They rise like the new moon ; 
 They prosper and they shine, 
 
 Till, retrograding soon, 
 They hasten to decline ! 
 Thus generations rise and sink, 
 And men are frail, whate'er they think ! 
 
 Yet wondrous do these works appear, 
 With more than vain magnificence ; 
 Something we always must revere 
 When man assumes his better sense : 
 His works of art declare 
 That more than brute is there ! 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 231 
 
 That mind, supremely fair, 
 
 Attends him everywhere ! 
 That mind o'er matter is supreme 
 "We gather from so grand a theme ! 
 
 With beauty so minute and fine, 
 And grandeur in the whole design ! 
 While use, and age, and strength combine, 
 The author must be part divine ! 
 
 No chance could ever frame 
 A pile so great and gay ! 
 
 It stamps with lasting fame 
 Man's intellectual sway 
 In pow'r that Matter, Death, nor Fate 
 Shall dare attempt t' exterminate. 
 
 And yet his pow'r, departing hence, 
 
 Retires we see not where, nor how ; 
 It cheats our dull material sense, 
 And vain the search we might bestow ! 
 So absolute is mind 
 
 In its peculiar course ; 
 Above all mortal kind, 
 It claims a higher source : 
 Its might supreme will rule at last, 
 When all our wondering here is past. 
 
 Thus satisfied, I rest me here. 
 
 And the great Fount of Mind revere ! 
 
 I ask not what it is, nor where ! 
 
 I feel it permeates our sphere ! 
 
 I feel it fire my soul 
 
 "With more than fleshly zeal ! 
 
 It takes me in control ! 
 I yield to its appeal ! 
 I cannot doubt or scruple more — 
 I feel my God, and must adore ! 
 
 Ye saints, who worship at this shrine, 
 Must feel an impulse most divine ! 
 
232 MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS 
 
 This beauteous mount of sacred art 
 Some great emotions must impart ! — 
 Must spur your sluggish love ! 
 Must warm your intellect ! 
 Must point your thoughts above, 
 To the great Architect ! 
 Must stir you to revere His Name, 
 Whence wisdom, art, and beauty came ! 
 
 THE MINSTER BELLS. 
 
 Written while loalhmg to York Minster, Sunday, July 13th, 1851. 
 
 Hark ! the cheerful Minster bells, 
 
 Pealing forth their sacred sound ! 
 Gloriously their music swells 
 
 In majestic notes around ! 
 Softly sweet, like angel-whispers, 
 
 Now they gently stir the air ! 
 Or like saintly-warbled vespers, 
 
 Quiver from the house of pray'r. 
 
 Often were my childhood's years 
 
 Thus by village bells beguil'd ! 
 When this holy day appears, 
 
 I am happy as a child ! 
 Happy in the recollections 
 
 Of my blithe and lightsome youth ; 
 Happy, too, in good reflections ; 
 
 Happy in the ways of Truth ! 
 
 Oft, ye sacred bells, again, 
 
 When the Sabbath morn we see, 
 Cheer the care-worn sons of men 
 
 By your heav'n-born harmony. 
 Thus, with partial blessings given, 
 
 We pursue the path of peace, 
 Till from earth we grow to heaven, 
 
 Where from cares we gain release. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 233 
 
 TO THE MEMORY 
 
 OP 
 
 HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 The knell of affection we knoll 
 
 For the hero of valour and fame ! 
 Of glory and grace to his soul 
 
 We echo his nation's acclaim ! 
 
 The steel-hearted warrior is gone, 
 
 Compos' d, to his permanent rest ; 
 His toilings and warrings are done, 
 
 And his name is embalm'd with the bless' d. 
 
 In the cause of his home, he unsheath'd 
 
 To enemies rank as the sand ; 
 His soul but of victory breath' d, 
 
 And like adamant stood to his land. 
 
 When the nations came forth in array, 
 
 Our Wellington nobly arose ; 
 Like a gulf, he impeded their way — 
 
 Like a lion, he leap'd on his foes ! 
 
 His mind was capacious and bold ; 
 
 As active as Mercury, too. 
 On all that his genius laid hold 
 
 He follow'd with diligence through. 
 
 'Tis the Grod of the universe reigns, 
 
 And governs our militant race ; 
 He the cause of the righteous maintains, 
 
 And foils the designs of the base. 
 
 He circles the path of the just, 
 
 When tyrants and rebels assail ; 
 And those in their Maker who trust 
 
 Will over the wicked prevail. 
 
 True courage is sent from on high — 
 
 'Tis Heaven provideth the brave ; 
 And he may all nations defy 
 
 Who trusts the Almighty to save ! 
 
 x 2 
 
2o4 MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS, 
 
 Our hero, to virtue inspired, 
 Believed it his duty to fight ; 
 
 At the name of his foes he was fir'd, 
 And met them with confident might. 
 
 He shrunk not, he turn'd not aside, 
 When battle grew fearfully fierce ; 
 
 But struggled and dar'd to abide — 
 No terrors his courage could pierce. 
 
 He fought for the home of his youth ; 
 
 He fought for the God of his breath ; 
 He fought for the succour of Truth ; 
 
 He fought, too, regardless of death. 
 
 His cohorts were firm as a rock ; 
 
 Devoted to all he desir'd ; 
 They stood in the bloodiest shock, 
 
 While his enemy charg'd, or retir'd. 
 
 No scheming could draw them away 
 
 To any untimely attack ; 
 Nor terror of proudest array 
 
 Could drive them in cowardice back. 
 
 His wisdom surmounted the will, 
 
 And strengthen'd the hopes of his men ; 
 
 When once they had witness'd his skill, 
 They ever would trust it again. 
 
 His prudence decided the fight ; 
 
 His vigour remain'd to the last ; 
 His tactics were found to be right 
 
 When the struggle for conquest was past. 
 
 The hosts he encounter'd in strife 
 Were many, and wilful, and brave ; 
 
 And hence with the glories of life 
 He glutted grim death and the grave. 
 
 Whole myriads at once he repell'd 
 Of those who impeded his path— 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 235 
 
 A check on their tyranny held, 
 And hew'd down the fierce in his wrath. 
 
 Nor courage, nor prudence, alone, 
 
 Distinguish' d his veteran soul ; 
 But charity over him shone, 
 
 And held him in kindly control- 
 He had pity to succour the slave, 
 
 Who groan'd in political wo ; 
 His compassion was active to save 
 
 Whoever in sorrow he saw. 
 
 His condolence, poignant and free, 
 
 Was ready to all the aggriev'd ; 
 Whatever their name or degree, 
 
 In the duty to help he believ'd. 
 
 He wept on beholding the field 
 Strewn o'er with the wounded and dead ; 
 
 Their woes to his manhood appeal'd, 
 And he moum'd for the soldiers who bled. 
 
 His duty to God and to men 
 
 Was all that he dar'd to propound ; 
 In ne'er a dispatch of his pen 
 
 Can boasting of glory be found. 
 
 'Twas duty that call'd him to arms, 
 And made him unflinchingly staunch ; 
 
 And thro' continents fill'd with alarms 
 His war-engines fearlessly launch. 
 
 When the war-god had vented his fume, 
 And tyranny crouch'd from the view ; 
 
 When foes would no longer presume 
 His warrior steps to pursue ; 
 
 When hardy usurpers no more 
 
 To contest with our guardian would come ; 
 When ambition was sated with gore, 
 
 And robbers of nations were dumb ; 
 
236 MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 
 
 When demons were taught to resign, 
 And own the dominion of peace ; 
 
 And the peaceful were bold to combine, 
 Their safety and joy to increase : 
 
 Then settled our hero to rest, 
 Nor plunder'd the peaceful inclin'd ; 
 
 But his friends and alliances blest 
 By the force of his vigorous mind. 
 
 In council, at home, and abroad 
 His projects were own'd to be wise, 
 
 And the rebels who winc'd at his goad 
 Ne'er ventur'd his might to despise. 
 
 He shone in the honours of state, 
 Like one of celestial birth ; 
 
 His thoughts were unflinchingly great, 
 And grew into infinite worth. 
 
 The grasp of his mind was profound ; 
 
 His perception sagacious and clear ; 
 His principles honest and sound, 
 
 And his candour for ever sincere. 
 
 His fame is as bright as the sun, 
 "With never a speck on its face ; 
 
 The path of fair virtue he run, 
 Adorn'd with each brilliant grace. 
 
 The Truth was the star of his course ; 
 
 He faithfully follow'd its light ; 
 And nothing his purpose could force 
 
 From what he consider'd was right. 
 
 He struggled in Liberty's aid ; 
 
 He never oppress'd or enslav'd ; 
 His promise he never betray'd, 
 
 Nor captiously ever behaVd. 
 
 When mellow'd in glory and years, 
 And finish'd his objects of time, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 237 
 
 He fell as, when autumn appears, 
 Do the fruits that are ripen' d and prime. 
 
 To death he came gallantly up, 
 
 And viewed him with placid respect, 
 As the friend who should bring him the cup 
 
 That cureth each mortal defect. 
 
 No dismay or affliction he show'd 
 
 At the valley or shadow of death ; 
 But faith in salvation avow'd, 
 
 And cheerfully yielded his breath. 
 
 May the heavens annihilate wars, 
 
 And soften the nations to peace ; 
 And for troops, and for weapons and scars, 
 
 May the artists of comforts increase. 
 
 But while we have enemies round 
 
 Who seek to deprive us of joy, 
 'Tis well that a "Wellington's found, 
 
 So hardy and safe to employ. 
 
 We carry his corpse to the tomb ; 
 
 His nation her mourning puts on ; 
 We mock not in sorrowless gloom, 
 
 But grieve that our hero is gone. 
 
 All hail to him ! honour the brave I 
 
 The wreath of affection entwine ; 
 With piety circle his grave, 
 
 And build him a glorious shrine. 
 
 When duty is honour' d, we thrive ; 
 
 We sink when these questions ye sever. 
 Nurse duty, and keep it alive, 
 
 And England will prosper for ever. 
 
 The knell of affection we knoll 
 
 For the hero of valour and fame ; 
 Of glory and grace to his soul 
 
 We echo his nation's acclaim ! 
 
238 MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 
 
 WILLIAM AND ANNA. 
 
 Young William was as brave a tar 
 
 As ever squar'd the yard ; 
 Fair Anna was a lovely girl, 
 
 And William's chief regard. 
 
 These two together often pass'd 
 
 A swiftly flying hour, 
 And talk'd of most delightful things 
 
 In Love's enchanting bow'r. 
 
 Then o'er the sea young William went, 
 
 To some far foreign port ; 
 While mauy swains for Anna vied, 
 
 But none could gain her heart. 
 
 When distant far from him she loVd, 
 With many hopes and fears ; 
 
 She still for William waited true 
 For three revolving years. 
 
 At last the welcome tidings came, 
 The ship was homeward hound ; 
 
 It was resolv'd their meeting, too, 
 With nuptials should be crown'd. 
 
 New joy now fiU'd the virgin's heart, 
 
 For news so good as this — 
 A joy at thoughts of his return, 
 
 And joy for wedded bliss. 
 
 She waited long with anxious mind 
 
 To see the youth return ; 
 At every night a vigil kept, 
 
 And early wak'd at morn. 
 
 One night, well nigh as black as coal 
 
 The sky was clouded dark ; 
 And Anna wander'd on the beach, 
 
 To watch for William's bark. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 239 
 
 The stormy winds had risen high, 
 
 The sea began to roar ; 
 And awful scenes of terror spread 
 
 Along th' affrighted shore. 
 
 The ocean rolPd a mighty tide, 
 
 In waves of lofty height, 
 Which burst with a tremendous dash 
 
 In sheets of snowy white. 
 
 The waters laVd the maiden's feet, 
 
 The sea-fowl scream'd aloud ; 
 And thunder burst and lightning stream'd 
 
 Upon the distant cloud. 
 
 Yet Anna's courage did not fail ; 
 
 For self she scarce could care ; 
 Her "William all her mind engaged — 
 
 His safety was her prayer. 
 
 She wander'd to and saunter'd fro, 
 
 And pac'd the cold, wet sands ; 
 Anon she wept and wildly talk'd, 
 
 And wrung for grief her hands. 
 
 Then close beside the water's edge 
 
 The fair young lover stood, 
 And stretch' d her ever- watchful eyes 
 
 Across the stormy flood. 
 
 The elements in fury rag'd, 
 
 And groan' d in heavy war ; 
 An angry billow then advanc'd 
 
 O'er all the beach afar. 
 
 And now receding near as fierce, 
 
 Its backward course to urge 
 It meets, and fights, and dies away 
 
 Against the coming surge. 
 
 Their strength is spent — now all is still 
 Except the noisy gull, 
 
240 MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 
 
 And winds that, on the haggard cliff, 
 Moan dismal, deep, and dull. 
 
 But ah ! a flash — a gun's report — 
 
 Not far across the wave ; 
 A signal sure of keen distress — 
 
 A threat'ning watery grave ! 
 
 She frantic fell flat on the ground, 
 
 Like one depriv'd of life, 
 For fear 'twas William's ship that roll'd 
 
 Amid the fluid strife. 
 
 At length, with water drench' d, she rose, 
 
 And incoherent talk'd ; 
 Then shrieking ran along the strand, 
 
 Then silent pensive walk'd. 
 
 The moon then lent a feeble light — 
 
 She saw a vessel nigh ; 
 And when the waters hush'd awhile, 
 
 For help she heard them cry. 
 
 But helpers none could there be found 
 The wretched tars to save, 
 
 While to the dreadful shore they drove 
 Before the bursting wave 
 
 Now Anna's fears were realiz'd — 
 For help her William cried ; 
 
 Stung with the sound, she fearless ran 
 Against the angry tide. 
 
 But fierce and strong the billows came, 
 And threw her on the ground — 
 
 With fury drove her up and down, 
 Then left her almost drown' d. 
 
 She laid awhile ; then rose again, 
 
 But only to despair : 
 She raVd, and, like a mania c ? 
 
 Tore out her curly hair. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 241 
 
 Meanwhile the ship was drifting fast 
 
 Amid the surfy white — 
 Dismasted and in great distress — 
 
 Now coming fan in sight. 
 
 The tempest drove her on the rocks, 
 
 And wash'd along her deck ; 
 Her stern-post rose, her planks gave way, 
 
 And soon she went to wreck. 
 
 And then the few remaining hands 
 
 All overboard were wash'd ; 
 And most against the sturdy rocks 
 
 To instant death were dash'd. 
 
 But William, with some other two, 
 
 Escap'd, on floating wood, 
 Out from the very jaws of death — 
 
 Out from the gaping flood. 
 
 And Anna now, renerv'd to see 
 
 Her youth so near at hand, 
 Plung'd straight again among the waves, 
 
 To help him safe to land. 
 
 They met — embrac'd — and wept for joy, 
 
 And, hast'ning to the shore, 
 Suppos'd and hop'd that surely now 
 
 Their dangers must be o'er. 
 
 Exhausted much with straggling long, 
 
 They sat them down awhile ; 
 Each fondled and each other hugg'd, 
 
 Their sorrows to beguile. 
 
 Then soon they rose to go away, 
 
 For both were cold and wet ; 
 But oh ! the sea had ran so high, 
 
 They could not forward get ! 
 
 On every side they strove to flee, 
 But could not make escape ; 
 
242 MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 
 
 They could not climb the frightful cliff, 
 Nor double round the cape. 
 
 New horror seiz'd their panting breasts, 
 New pam, new care, new fear ; 
 
 Because the tide was flowing fast, 
 And was already near. 
 
 They call'd for help with all their might, 
 But none could them befriend ; 
 
 So then they waited patiently 
 To meet then- tragic end ! 
 
 They mounted on the stranded wreck, 
 The billows drove them thence ; 
 
 Then in a cleft far in a rock 
 They sought their last defence. 
 
 But all was vain ! — the tide still rose, 
 And found them even there ; 
 
 And death appear'd before the morn 
 To William and his fair. 
 
 Next day the life-boat came to take 
 
 A boy from off the cliff ; 
 Then these two lovers both were found 
 
 Lifeless, and cold, and stiff ! 
 
 As they but for each other liv'd, 
 
 In death they parted not ; 
 But, lock'd within each other's arms, 
 
 They shar'd an equal lot. 
 
 Then both in one deep grave were laid, 
 Beneath one hillock green, 
 
 "Where maids and youths oft tell their tale, 
 And some in tears are seen ! 
 
 And thus all creature comforts fail, 
 "While sorrow takes their place ; 
 
 Then happy he whose soul relies 
 On sweet supernal grace ! 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 243 
 
 THE PHILOSOPHER AND THE RABBIT-TRAP. 
 
 A subtle philosopher, fill'd with devotion 
 To old Madam Nature, was strolling about, 
 
 To pick up examples to strengthen some notion, 
 To build up his faith, or unravel some doubt. 
 
 His vision about Hcrba viva in plants 
 
 Up to a voluptuous mania grew ; 
 And while in the field to himself he descants, 
 
 A jolly young gamekeeper came to his view. 
 
 Then he to the keeper expounded his plan 
 
 For to make vegetation from nothing arise, 
 And then from the plants to create him a man, 
 
 And of vapours to form the great lights of the skies. 
 He told him of op'ning and closing of flow'rs, 
 
 As in chickweed, and pansy, and many beside, 
 At the coming of eve, or the falling of show'rs, 
 
 Which shows him they've sense for themselves to provide- 
 
 The trap-fly he prais'd to enormous excess, 
 For the perfect sensation its nature displays ; 
 
 Its sense of perception, he thought, was no less 
 Than man's cogitation or wisdom conveys 
 
 The keeper, surmising the sage was in jest, 
 
 With jesting replied, that he always conceiv'd 
 That the hardest of matter with sense is impress'd — 
 
 That rock, earth, and metals have life, he belieVd. 
 The wise man, delighted with doctrines like those, 
 
 Could show vegetation possess'd a prepense, 
 But wanted a proof that the metals have laws 
 
 Of action that manifest wisdom and sense ; 
 And prayingly ask'd of the keeper, if he 
 
 Could find an example that metals can feel ! 
 The wag, much delighted such wisdom to see, 
 
 Declar'd he could show a sensation in steel ! 
 
 He said that a trap was not far on the dike, 
 
 By which he could prove the assertion he made ; 
 
 But an object he saw, and a shot he should like ; 
 So the trial must be for a moment delay' d. 
 
!44 MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 
 
 Th' impatient philosopher could not be still — 
 
 To hold his emotions in check was in vain ; 
 The thought of the whole of his wish to fulfil 
 
 Completely o'erturn'd and bewilder'd his brain. 
 Instinctive uneasiness haul'd him along, 
 
 Altho' he knew naught of the steel or the trap ; 
 He felt that to walk a bit could not be wrong, 
 
 And something of pleasure befall him might hap. 
 By the fortune of blunders, the trap he espied, 
 
 And, knowing that iron and steel are akin, 
 He thought that it must be the thing to be tried, 
 
 And so he resolv'd on the test to begin. 
 
 He tried with his nail for to make it to flinch ; 
 
 Then poked with his penknife the handle and spring,; 
 To do it completely he spar'd not an inch, 
 
 To see if't would move, but it did no such thing ! 
 Advancing still onward, the clapper he prick'd ! 
 
 And the trap struck his finger ! my stars, how he 
 scream'd ! 
 He wriggl'd, curs'd, flounder' d, and merrily kick'd, 
 
 As tho' in a hornpipe at dancing he seem'd ! 
 But the trap was tenacious, its teeth were so good ; 
 
 Nor knew he to loose it by pressing the spring ; 
 And lo ! he grew frantic at sight of his blood ! 
 
 And the woods and the valleys of murder did ring ! 
 The keeper, alarm'd at the cries of the sage, 
 
 Ran quick for to give his assaulter a rap ; 
 But laugh'd when he found out the cause of his rage, 
 
 And quietly let the wise man from the trap ! 
 
 Then read him a lesson of wisdom and sense, 
 
 And matter and motion he never had scann'd ; 
 And taught him how foolish and vain the pretence 
 
 For one to presume to what none understand ! 
 What folly to judge what the Maker design'd 
 
 By objects we never by half comprehend ; 
 More reason there is in employing the mind 
 
 To higher- born wisdom our souls to commend. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 245 
 
 The philosopher curs'd the sensation of steel, 
 
 And swore the trap-makers should give up their trade 
 
 Or print on the metals the temper they neal, 
 That wise men might never again be betray'd ! 
 
 The keeper, deriding him, laugh'd at the joke, 
 And said that if rabbit-traps put him to doubt, 
 
 That sure, till more wisdom upon him had broke, 
 There may be a God whom he couldn't trace out ! 
 
 THE WAY OP ALL. 
 
 I've seen the haughty and the gay, 
 The mighty and the proud, 
 
 In all their glory yesterday — 
 To-day beneath the shroud ! 
 
 I've seen the war-man all so bold, 
 Who dar'd to fight the brave ; 
 
 And both now stretch'd out icy cold, 
 Waiting the gaping grave. 
 
 I've seen the infant from the womb, 
 
 Unfolding fairest charms, 
 Depriv'd at once of all its bloom, 
 
 And lock'd in death's stiff arms. 
 
 I've seen the giant fierce and great, 
 Whose eyes flash'd streaks of fire ; 
 
 One moment strong and all elate, 
 And in the next expire. 
 
 And so the human race must die — 
 
 'Tis all our nature's lot : 
 Then, reader ! so must you and I 
 
 Depart and be forgot. 
 
 But he whose soul is favour'd most 
 With grace, and truth, and love, 
 
 Still lives when other names are lost, 
 And him will God approve ! 
 
 y 2 
 
246 MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 
 
 TO A LOOKING-GLASS. 
 Thou beautiful mirror, thou splendid old glass, 
 
 That hangs by the parlour wall, 
 How surely as round thee we frequently pass 
 
 We give thee a courteous call. 
 
 The truest of pictures are painted by thee ; 
 
 Their faithfulness all must believe ; 
 Tho' oft in thy portraits such features we see 
 
 As give us occasion to grieve. 
 Thou worthy preceptor, of duty the gauge, 
 
 That shows when on truth we encroach ; 
 How beauty departeth, in sorrow or rage ; 
 
 Or the countenance sinks with debauch. 
 How truly thou serveth the ladies who wear 
 
 Fine carmine or rouge on the cheek ; 
 Who practise how best they can seem to be fair — 
 
 How their lips shall look witching and meek ! 
 
 Thou knowest the fop who, with brushes and oil, 
 
 And with curling-tongs trimmeth his hair ; 
 Who, in pinning his neckerchief taketh much toil, 
 
 And trains his mustaches to pair ! 
 The best and the loveliest take thy advice, 
 
 To know how their beauty will charm ; 
 For, in primming and looking all daiaty and nice, 
 
 The gravest believe is no harm. 
 Th' old maiden, despairing, consulteth thy plate 
 
 At her failings to have just a peep ! 
 And tries all her art for reversing her fate, 
 
 Tho' her wrinkles are many and deep ! 
 The children before thee in merriment daUce, 
 
 Well pleas' d with thy mimicing face ; 
 And folks of much wisdom oft give thee a glance, 
 
 To look for some manlier grace ! 
 When cankering care is destroying the brave, 
 
 By eating his life to the core, 
 He may find in his mirror an object so grave 
 
 As should warn him from bleeding too sore. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 247 
 
 The foolish and vain, if they had hut the sense, 
 
 From thee might their foolishness learn ; 
 Coquetters and triflers, whate'er their pretence, 
 
 In thee may find wages to earn. 
 Each turn that we happen to look in a glass, 
 
 The progress of Time we may trace ; 
 The records of days and of months, as they pass, 
 
 Are deeply engrav'd on thy face. 
 To all thy disciples I know thou art true — 
 
 No flattery hast thou to give ; 
 And those who with wisdom thy lessons pursue 
 
 May mark in thee how they should live. 
 
 THE GRAVE. 
 ( Translated from the German of Salis.) 
 How deep and silent is the grave ; 
 
 Its brink is horrid, too ; 
 And, covering with a veil, it hides 
 
 An unknown land from view. 
 The songs of nightingales are not 
 
 "Within its bosom known ; 
 And only on the moss-grown hill, 
 
 Are Friendship's roses thrown.* 
 Forsaken brides may wring in vain 
 
 Their hands, and sorely weep ; 
 Nor can the orphan's wailings pierce 
 
 Into the earthy deep. 
 Yet in no other place abides 
 
 The still expected rest ; 
 By this dark door alone we reach 
 
 A home supremely blest. 
 The poor heart here below, so oft 
 
 With tempests ruffled o'er, 
 Can only there true peace obtain, 
 
 Where it shall beat no more ! 
 
 * Alluding to the custom of throwing and of planting flowers on the 
 grave, as the only means of intercourse with the departed friend. 
 
248 MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS 
 
 A COUPLE OF GHOSTS. 
 
 Of ghosts and of witches, of sprites and of magic, 
 I've heard much related, both comic and tragic — 
 
 In doctrinal error and blind superstition — 
 Of folly and madness, both doggrel and attic, 
 
 That rose out of darkness and ride on tradition. 
 
 Just one illustration before me now rises 
 
 That shows the true ground of the ghostly surprises. 
 
 The scene was a village — the time about midnight, 
 When a miller, half madden'd with drink that comprises 
 
 So much of the spirit that dazzles the eyesight, 
 
 Had, on his way homeward, now stumbled and stagger'd 
 So far from his path as to stray thro' a stackyard ; 
 
 A sweep for his bed in the straw was laid sleeping, 
 And just as the miller roam'd forward and backward, 
 
 The sweeper came forth to go after his sweeping. 
 
 The strangers discover'd each other with wonder, 
 And roar'd out in terror like pealings of thunder ; 
 
 The sky was so dark that they could not see fairly — 
 They stupified stood about ten yards asunder 
 
 A moment or two, and then scamper'd off rarely ! 
 
 The miller struck out at a desperate pace ! 
 And Sooty, unknowingly, gave him the chase ! 
 
 For he mounted his ass to escape in affright, 
 And gallop'd away, as tho' running a race, 
 
 Straight after John Windmill all in the dark night ! 
 
 Poor Johnny soon heard the approach of the ass ! 
 Yet terrified so, he could not let him pass ; 
 
 But ran with more speed to get out of the sight ; 
 Tho' speed was all vain, for the donkey, alas ! 
 
 Soon reach'd the swift heels of John Dusty, the white ! 
 
 The heroes discover'd each other once more, 
 And both were tormented e'en worse than before, 
 
 But donkey went nimbly, and soon they were parted, 
 Or both might have fainted when troubled so sore ; 
 
 They could not have run, they were so cow-hearted, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 249 
 
 The sweeper, by fortune, arriVd at an inn, 
 Dismounted and shelter' d, and told the good host 
 How he " had been chas'd by a horrible ghost, 
 " That came," he believed, " to accuse him of sin, 
 " In drinking the whole of his earnings in gin ! 
 " 'Twas dress'd in a garment of glistening white, 
 " And was, altogether, the horrent est sight !" 
 
 The miller then quickly, and nigh out of breath, 
 Come running and panting, half frighted to death, 
 
 And said to the landlord, " I saw a black elf 
 " Start quick as the lightning out from the earth, 
 
 " And I think it was surely old Satan himself ! 
 
 " A monster of darkness from head down to foot, 
 " And, sure as I breathe, he was blacker than soot : 
 
 " His eyes were like saucers, so big and so round — 
 "Now open'd and blazing, then darken'd and shut ; 
 
 " And his voice was the hollowest, dismalest sound !" 
 
 The company detected the ghosts of such terror 
 And laughter gave vent to their thoughts on the error ; 
 The terrible monsters were prov'd to be men, 
 Who vow'd not to make such a blunder again. 
 
 WITCHCRAFT. 
 
 0, ye say that the witches are dead, 
 And that fairies are only a dream ! 
 
 But, by Jove, I'm in terrible dread 
 
 There are witches yet more than ye deem ! 
 
 And if you with my Sylvia meet, 
 She will fascinate you of your breath ; 
 
 While her voice will entangle your feet, 
 And her eyes will transfix you like death. 
 
 This is witchcraft ! or what is it, then ? 
 
 As I breathe now, its might I confess ! 
 For the Nymphs have this charm over men ! 
 
 It is witchery ! What is it less ? 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 
 
 TO AN EARLY PRIMROSE. 
 
 Gay little flower ! 
 I hail thee with delight ! 
 
 And near my garden hower 
 Will plant thee in my sight, 
 That I may see thy beauty there, 
 Bud forth so early, fresh, and fair. 
 
 Herald of spring ! 
 Of vernal blossoms first, 
 
 Thou art a pretty thing 
 As ever Nature nurs'd. 
 Thy lessons, too, are all so fine, 
 I freely wish thy graces mine. 
 
 Of beauty full, 
 So fair, and sweet, and clean, 
 
 The children love to pull 
 Thy yellow and thy green ; 
 And well they may, for thou art such, 
 That thou canst grace their posies much. 
 
 With modesty 
 Thou art for ever crown' d, 
 
 Where'er thy form we see 
 Come peeping from the ground, 
 In some far distant, lonely glen, 
 Remotest from the haunts of men. 
 
 Humility 
 Thou hast, tho' rich and neat, 
 
 From lofty tow'ring free, 
 Thou grow'st beneath our feet ; 
 Nor once we see thee rise so high, 
 As with the stronger roots to vie. 
 
 Thy patience more 
 We find, than we can learn 
 
 From field or garden store, 
 By river or by tarn ; 
 Thou strugglest hard with frost and snow 
 Thy cheering little head to show. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 251 
 
 Nor when deflower'd, 
 
 Dost thou revenge the deed 
 
 Or slily stab the coward, 
 
 And make his fingers bleed, — 
 
 As do the whin, the brier, rose, 
 
 And hawthorn blossoms, to their foes. 
 
 Gay little flower ! 
 I love thy every charm : 
 
 Tho' small, thou hast the power 
 Mine inmost soul to warm ; 
 And may thy type of graces give 
 To me a lesson how to live. 
 
 MORNING JOYS. 
 
 How joyous is the early morn, 
 "When first it blushes o'er the sea, 
 
 Or peeps across the mountain tops, 
 Or brightens up the stretching lea. 
 
 So sweet the breeze, so bright the sky, 
 
 So peaceable is eveiy scene ; 
 It seems as tho' the bliss of heaven 
 
 Was stealing thro' the veil between. 
 
 The morning traveller feels the joy ; 
 
 His mind expands with godlike pow'r ; 
 And hence the young to wisdom grow, 
 
 And age maintains its youthful flow'r, 
 
 If sluggards knew the health and sense 
 Which early blooming morning yields, 
 
 They would forsake the foetid bed, 
 To ramble through the smiling fields. 
 
 Arise ! arise ! ye sluggards, rise ! 
 
 Imbibe the ambrosia, while the dew 
 Like diamonds hangs, and from this fount 
 
 Of life your energies renew ! 
 
Yl MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 
 
 VERNAL IMPULSE. 
 
 Written while walking from Eaxby to Strensall, on Swnday, 
 April 15th, 1852. 
 
 Another spring inspires our sphere ! 
 
 A new creation shines around ! 
 All nature hails the opening year, 
 
 And feels her life with bliss rebound. 
 The rays of light reflective shine 
 
 Like one vast mirror thro' the air, 
 And seem to say the Pow'rs Divine 
 
 Are breathing, smiling eVrywhere. 
 The vegetative fluids wake 
 
 To run and prosper gloriously, 
 And untold myriad blossoms break 
 
 In eVry hue of fair degree. 
 All animated creatures bound 
 
 With new-born energy along — 
 "With gambols play the plain around, 
 
 And fill the groves with varied song. 
 'Tis man alone a sadness wears ! 
 
 His features bear a threat'ning scowl, 
 Which well betrays the load of cares 
 
 That canker round his graceless soul. 
 For shame ! dull man, why should't thou mar 
 
 This bliss wherewith creation swells ? 
 No soul, if rightly tun'd, could jar 
 
 Where nature's choir of music dwells. 
 No doubt mankind have made thee smart, 
 And thrown their briers o'er thy path — 
 Have shot their arrows to thy heart, 
 And often spurr'd thee into wrath. 
 Yet cheer thee up, for God is kind ! 
 
 These beauteous scenes to thee he grants 
 To solace all thy tortur'd mind, 
 
 And yield redress to all thy wants ! 
 Wouldst thou survey His marks of grace ? 
 They far exceed thy art to count ! 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 
 
 From ev'ry point o'er nature's face 
 His blessings grow to vast amount ! 
 
 Repine for wretchedness no more ! 
 
 Ten thousand bounteous gifts are thine 
 Grateful receive them, and adore 
 
 The Pow'r that makes them so divine ! 
 
 THE ROSE BUSH. 
 Once in my little garden stood 
 
 A rose bush, fresh and strong ; 
 And on it came a fine large bud 
 
 Before the others long. 
 Anon it was an open flower, 
 
 Ting'd with a beauteous dye ; 
 And oft I sat within my bower, 
 
 To feast on it mine eye. 
 Then other roses soon were seen 
 
 In modest lovely blush ; 
 But still the first one was the queen 
 
 Of all upon the bush. 
 The sun and rain their succour lent, 
 
 To keep it in the bloom ; 
 But now its head was downward bent, 
 
 As though it mourn'd its doom. 
 
 Then, 0, my rose was in the morn 
 
 Soil'd on the miry ground ; 
 Of all its gay enchantments shorn, 
 
 And with the raining drown' d. 
 Anxious the pretty charm to save, 
 
 I snatch'd it from its bed ; 
 But, with the snatch, it to its grave 
 
 Fell all asunder dead. 
 
 Mark me ! ye young in rosy bloom ! 
 
 Thus is the race of man, 
 As from the cradle to the tomb 
 
 We hurry through the span. 
 
254 MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 
 
 THE OLD YEAR AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 On the last of December, the jolly Old Year, 
 
 Advancing apace like a warrior brave, 
 All jaded and wrinkled, yet noble in mien, 
 
 Came rallying round to the brink of his grave. 
 
 A multitude vast had assembled to see 
 
 This steady old pilgrim advance to his tomb ; 
 And the church bells were ringing to hurry him off, 
 
 Aud apprize the good saint of his doom. 
 When Death, with his sickle, had join'd in the throng, 
 
 All seem'd to be fit for the funeral rite ; 
 But the moment to pass was the mid of the night, 
 
 And the meeting was waiting to witness the sight. 
 
 Now, famous old Time, with his hoary fine locks, 
 
 In the prime of full vigour appear'd on the stage, 
 And presented accounts of the people around, 
 
 With their seasons and deeds on each opposite page. 
 And while Time and old Death were perusing the book, 
 
 Th' Old Year had a moment, it seems, for to spare, 
 And announcing his fate with an air of delight, 
 
 Address'd a few words to the multitude there. 
 "You have had me," said he, "for a twelvemonth of space, 
 
 " And I bid you farewell before crossing the bourne ; 
 " I've been your true friend, and my season is pass'd, 
 
 " So now ever farewell ! for I cannot return ! 
 "Youhave scorn'dme,andcurs'd bothmy days andmynights; 
 
 "You've constrain'd me to witness yourturmoils and wars ; 
 "You have slighted my counsel that call'd you to love, 
 
 "And have wounded me oft (and he show'd them his scars) ; 
 " Well ! but now you repent for the evil you've done," 
 
 " And seem to lament our acquaintance must cease ! 
 " But remember the vows which you made me at first ; 
 
 " Yet I will not reproach you ; I leave you my peace ! 
 " You will court my successor with holy pretence ; 
 
 " But will change with the seasons, and shun what is right, 
 " Oh, I give you my charge — use him better than me, 
 
 "And adieu ! all adieu ! I am going ! good night !" 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 255 
 
 Now while the Old Year was addressing the throng, 
 Grim Death had examin'd the books of old Time — 
 
 Had drawn out his balance, and weighed the space 
 For the infant and ag'd, and the man in his prime ! 
 
 Then Diseases came up, of all features and names, 
 To ask for employ, and old Death set them on ; 
 
 And quick they advanc'd thro' the whole of the mass, 
 And stood to the post where their work must be done ! 
 
 Apoplexy at once cut the vigorous down ; 
 
 "While Fevers stole quietly into the frame ; 
 Consumption made nests in the core of the fair, 
 
 And Dropsy o'erloaded the sire and the dame. 
 
 Great numbers were blighted to death in their bloom, 
 And many were taken from cradles when young ; 
 
 The grey-headed miser, with gold in his grasp, 
 By a famish' d-worn demon was hurried along ! 
 
 The Old Year had run off while they none had observ'd, 
 Till the New in full glee was seen bouncing along ! 
 
 Then they greeted the youth with their mirth and their smile s 
 With the ringing of bells, and with music and song ! 
 
 The Old Year was a friend to the last ! but he's gone ; 
 
 While Diseases and Death have come over to this. 
 May no evil betide us ! may we hive to be good ! 
 
 And the New Year be fuller of duty and bliss. 
 
 THE POWER OF HOPE. 
 
 Fair Hope bestows, all clear and bright, 
 
 The heav'nly, soft, directing ray 
 To cheer us on, thro' sorrow's night, 
 
 With promises of glorious day ! 
 The night of heavy boding ill 
 
 Shall surely not for ever last ; 
 But in the turn of seasons will, 
 
 Like other evils, soon be past. 
 Then we will cheerly cling to Hope, 
 
 And speed our boat with pressing sail ! 
 With all our trials bravely cope, 
 
 And so, in hope, outride the gale ! 
 
-.')<: MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 
 
 MIND UNGOVERNABLE BY MONEY. 
 
 Mind and money are at strife — 
 
 Cash Avould the dominion claim ; 
 Mind is for the struggle rife, 
 
 Always laughing wealth to shame. 
 Mind and money ill agree — 
 
 Scarcely can their wills unite ; 
 Oft we may their variance see ; 
 
 Seldom both are in the right. 
 See the money-making man ! 
 
 How he would one's mind control — 
 Using all the pow'rs he can 
 
 O'er the freedom of the soul. 
 Yet this cash may cease to strive ; 
 
 Mind will never yield or quail : 
 Virtue keeps it still alive, 
 
 Tho' the solid earth should fail. 
 Cease, ye treacherous tyrants, then — 
 
 Plan no more your foul deceit ; 
 Trample not on worthy men, 
 
 Tho' they fall beneath your feet ? 
 Wealth shall cease and be no more, 
 
 While the mind outlives the grave, 
 Smiling thro' the trying hour, 
 
 When your riches cannot save ! 
 Then, ye surly men of gold, 
 
 Strive no more the poor to bind ; 
 Tho' their failings ye behold, 
 
 They can scorn your sordid mind. 
 
 Thought shall live when worlds expire : 
 
 None have pow'r its course to turn ! 
 Naught shall quench its mighty fire ! 
 
 Naught shall make it fail to burn ! 
 Cease, then, Mammon ! cease thy strife ! 
 
 Cash shall never conquer thought ! 
 Thou wilt only sour the life 
 
 That with joy would else be fraught ! 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 257 
 
 MY HIGHLAND LOVE.— A SONG. 
 
 The heather bells are blooming gay 
 
 Along the mountain-brow ; 
 My Highland lassie, come away ! 
 
 Let's go a rambling now ! 
 
 "We'll wander thro' the brooky dales, 
 
 And o'er the heathy hills, 
 To talk of love and pleasant tales, 
 
 While joy all nature fills. 
 
 Our short-liv'd youth is worn with care ; 
 
 All creatures else are gay ; 
 Then, cast thy gloom, look smiling fair, 
 
 Be mine, and come away ! 
 
 NIGHT AND MORNING. 
 
 When Night's dark drapery from the East 
 
 Withdraws across the sky, 
 How swiftly heavenly sprites of light 
 
 O'er the creation fly ! 
 
 Sweet virgin Morn comes blushing forth, 
 And off old Darkness creeps ; 
 
 All Nature, with elastic bound, 
 Up from her night-couch leaps ! 
 
 Then mellow songs and gambols gay 
 
 The orient maiden greet ! 
 And flowers and fruits of myriad hues 
 
 Spring up around her feet ! 
 
 Off now she dances, up and down 
 
 Across our hemisphere ; 
 And men, and maids, and children vie 
 
 To rival her career ! 
 
 But, past us once, she quickly flies, 
 And leaves us thro' the West ! 
 
 Then, while she's here, improve her hour, 
 Whereof we're all possess'd. 
 
2o8 MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 
 
 EXHUMATION.— A FRAGMENT. 
 
 I pray thee tell me, Sexton, of these bones — 
 Are they the relics of the Erin, Scot, 
 Or English, Welsh, or Negro, Russ', or Frank ? 
 In which, of all the numerous tribes of man, 
 Were these now mould'rhig mortal fragments born, 
 Nurtur'd, and rear'd ? 
 
 I know not, answer'd he, 
 That in the erudition of the tombs 
 There's any sign whereby we may perceive 
 This national materiality ! 
 Tribes liken tribes ; all of the genus man 
 Partake of universal characters 
 In equal heritage and equal laws — 
 One universal lot is Death's domain J 
 No nation'l banners here — no whites or blacks I 
 These costce*, humeri, and vertebras ; 
 And e'en these ossa temporalia, 
 With the distinctive, godlike frontis, too ! 
 In all appearance are the same in shape, 
 In substance, and in virtue : naught besides 
 In all the ghostly skeleton descries 
 A mark distinctive, save the cranium, some 
 Of wit presumptive would persuade themselves 
 Is in one race more high, or broad, or long : 
 But if the warrior-bones of Waterloo 
 Were all exhum'd, 'twould be a weary task, 
 I ween, to sort in various heaps the skulls 
 Of all the several nations — English, Scotch ? 
 French, Irish, Hanoverian Gentlemen, 
 The Prussian, and all else whom battle slew. 
 
 Then hast thou found, ask'd the inquiring friend., 
 The marks of regal bones — Plantagenet, 
 Tudor, or Stuart, or the Brunswick line, 
 Bourbon, Pacha, or Russian autocrat ? 
 
 * Costce, ribs ; humeri, arm-bones joining the shoulder; vertebrae, the 
 joints of the back ; ossa temyoralia, the temple-bones ; osfrontis, the fore 
 skull. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SHOUT POEMS. 259 
 
 I ken not, said the humble man, which bones 
 Have borne a crown or sceptre, or which else 
 Have dug or reap'd, or forc'd the weary beast 
 In daily toil of menial services : 
 Death heeds not the regalia of kings, 
 Nor scans your princely 
 
 THE FAIRY ROSE.— A SONG. 
 
 I know a beauteous fairy rose, 
 
 That smiles in Fairy Dale ; 
 The fairest rose creation knows 
 Is that of Fairy Dale. 
 
 Chorus — 0, bless the beauteous fairy rose, 
 That blooms in Fairy Dale ; 
 The fairest rose creation knows 
 Is that of Fairy Dale ! 
 
 Its lips are sweet with honey dew, 
 
 Distilling rich and clear ; 
 'Tis downy soft, of rosy hue : 
 
 Is not this rose a dear ? 
 
 Chorus. — 0, bless, foe. 
 
 By wooing smile, and witching wile, 
 
 That might a tyrant sway, 
 This fairy rose doth me beguile, 
 
 And bear my soul away ! 
 
 Chorus. — 0, bless, &c. 
 
 But scarce I dare to touch this flow'r, 
 
 Lest I its beauty stain ; 
 And yet 'twill languish in its bow'r, 
 
 If I my love refrain. 
 
 Chorus. — 0, bless, foe. 
 
 Ye heav'ns protect my fairy rose 
 
 From every hurtful doom ! 
 Let no foul hand, or wind that blows, 
 
 Defile its virgin bloom ! 
 
 Chorus, — 0, bless, &c. 
 
!60 MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 
 
 THE HEARTH FIRE. 
 
 Written on the Whitby Moors. 
 
 The hearth fire ! see ! the blazing hearth — 
 
 The plan of ancient days ! 
 Joy to the hot, the level hearth, 
 Where glows the cheerful blaze ! 
 
 Chorus. — Where coal, or turf, or peat 
 Imparts a cheerful heat ! 
 When thro' the cold I wander forth, 
 
 Half perish'd with the storm, 
 I long to see the blazing hearth 
 Its daily work perform. 
 
 Chorus. — Where coal, &c. 
 When visiting great folks of worth, 
 
 Steel polish' d stoves I see ; 
 Yet, after all, the blazing hearth 
 Is the best fire for me. 
 
 Chorus. — Where coal, &c. 
 Give me the hearths that daily serve 
 
 To warm my legs and feet ; 
 Where earth-made fires they still preserve, 
 To me a constant treat. 
 
 Chorus. — Where coal, &c. 
 Give me the hearth where, homely gay, 
 
 We sit the circle round, 
 And talk and quaff the storm away. 
 Till all our care is drown'd. 
 
 Chorus. — Where coal, <fec. 
 
 SPRING. 
 Spring has return'd with lively train, 
 Eunning abroad o'er hill and plain, 
 Loos'ning the earth from Winter's chain, 
 
 All hail ! young Spring ! 
 Up to the budding fields away, 
 While the sweet blush of opening day 
 Paints the far east superbly gay, 
 
 To grace the Spring. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 261 
 
 Winter no longer now can keep 
 Nature laid dormant by a sleep ; 
 Life from the clod begins to peep, 
 
 To greet the Spring ! 
 All the great pow'rs of mother earth 
 Labour to bring in prosp'rous birth, 
 Innocent joy, and harmless mirth, 
 
 To bless the Spring. 
 Look ! how the crocus, buttercup, 
 Daisy so fair, and snow-blanch'd drop 
 Out from their beds are rising up 
 
 To see the Spring. 
 Birds, that of late with rough winds fought, 
 Sweetly now stretch each little throat — 
 Whistling aloud the mellow note 
 
 To cheer the Spring. 
 Rooks have begun their nests to build ; 
 Cattle are straying in the field, 
 Feeding on what the valleys yield — 
 
 The fruits of Spring. 
 Rise, now, ye sluggards, as ye need ; 
 Break up the fallow, rake the weed, 
 Harrow and bury well your seed, 
 
 To grow in Spring. 
 Up to the fields, before the Sun 
 Hath his resplendent course begun, 
 Labour to get the field-work done 
 
 In joyous Spring, 
 Up, all ye pleasure-seeking throng, 
 Lovers of beauty or of song, 
 Early run forth the fields among, 
 
 To taste of Spring, 
 Fairest of beauties now are seen, 
 Down in the vale that lies between 
 Highlands of pretty budding green, 
 
 The tints of Spring. 
 Nature's best harmonies are heard — 
 Songs of the ploughboy and of bird 
 Echo delight for bliss conferred 
 
 On them in Spring. 
 Welcome, young Spring ! with lively train, 
 Run yet abroad o'er hill and plain, 
 Loos'ning the earth from Winter's chain, 
 
 All hail ! young Spring I 
 
262 MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 
 
 TO THE RISING SUN. 
 
 All hail ! orb divine ! celestial sphere ! 
 What glory is mine when thou dost appear ! 
 Thou bounty of heaven, o'erflowing with beauty 
 To mortals art given to win them to duty. 
 
 Thy gorgeous sky, all enamell'd with gold, 
 Is too bright for the eye of a man to behold : 
 Thy whole hemisphere is enwrapp'd in a blaze 
 So grandly severe as to torture the gaze. 
 
 The dusky old night sneaketh off to the west, 
 Avoiding thy light as the foe of his rest. 
 Well ! he and his crimes may pass o'er the bourne, 
 To other dark climes, and never return ! 
 
 But thou, blessed Sun ! with glory divine, 
 In goodness go on — in majesty shine ! 
 Ambrosial dew by thee is distill' d, 
 All nature made new, and with harmony fill'd. 
 
 Then teach me to sip at thy nectarine bowl ; 
 For each touch of the lip will enliven the soul : 
 And hence shall my heart, beating high in its joy, 
 Perform well its part, and thy blessings employ, . 
 
 They tell me a blemish is found in thy face, 
 In spots that diminish thy lustre and grace. 
 Yet let me but live to perfection like thine. 
 And glory shall give me a portion divine ! 
 
 But when is the hour thy presence no more, 
 In heav'nly pow'r, shall visit this shore ? 
 And when is the day that Chaos shall gain 
 His primitive sway o'er this earthly domain ? 
 
 So glorious thou ! thy Maker how great ! 
 Sure no man can know his perfect estate. 
 His hand is efficient that fix'd thee on high 
 And vision omniscient belongs to His eye ! 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 263 
 
 0, may I procure his wisdom and might, 
 
 And then I am sure of all that is right. 
 
 Then planets may shake, and suns may expire ; 
 
 And earth, too, may quake, or be swallow'd in fire : 
 
 For, safe with my Maker, no foe can annoy ; 
 
 He'll make me partaker of heavenly joy ! 
 
 MEETING OF FRIENDS. 
 
 All hail ! old friends ! again we meet 
 As oft before we've done • 
 
 In times now distant run, 
 Far, far away. 
 'Tis always joyous, always sweet, 
 Our old acqaintances to greet, 
 If hearts have stood unchang'd, 
 And friendship underang'd, 
 When far away. 
 
 But oft old Time our friendship tries, 
 And, with sulphureous breath, 
 Blasts down in cruel death 
 The blooming flower. 
 Sometimes foul demon-thoughts arise, 
 And change the once propitious eyes, 
 That us'd to beam with light 
 So soft, so sweet, so bright, 
 In friendship's hour. 
 
 Forgive the thought, and may I find 
 No cause for fear or pain, 
 From friendship false and vain, 
 To mar my rest : 
 But may its fairest blossoms thrive, 
 And keep the social joys alive, 
 Till peace and truth are shed, 
 And amity is spread, 
 Thro' every breast ! 
 
264 MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 
 
 THE TONGUE. 
 Say what you may, the Muse will sing 
 The tongue, the tongue, that wondrous thing- 
 That little instrument, with skill 
 For mighty deeds of good or ill ; 
 Tho' chief it finds enjoyment sweet 
 In any vile, ungodly feat. 
 It has a shield, a snare, or sword 
 Possess'd in but an airy word ; 
 A weapon sharp, that dashes down 
 More armies than the sword has known. 
 Foul scandal-tongue can make its way 
 Thro' paths unseen by night or day : 
 Not terror'd by the noonday light, 
 Nor by the sable velvet night ; 
 Nor by a single scene deterr'd — 
 'Tis ever felt or ever heard. 
 Whirlwind confusion oft 'twill rise, 
 And e'en assault the lofty skies ; 
 Deluge the earth in error's wo, 
 And every ill that mortals know — 
 As famine, battle, human blood, 
 And death to some who have withstood 
 Evils in every other form, 
 From Halcyon's calm to the wild storm : 
 But none can tell how great a hurt 
 May rise from tongues of wicked sort. 
 When schemes of words are deeply laid, 
 Most watchful objects are betray'd ; 
 But most we need to watch and fear, 
 Lest lurking danger should be near, 
 When flatterers rise with smoothen'd face, 
 All grandly dress' d in borrow'd grace. 
 
 Seek not the rostrum or the bar 
 Effective eloquence to hear, 
 For arguments persuasive, strong, 
 Are most upon that wicked tongue, 
 That gives itself — its life away, 
 To hurt, defame, tempt, or betray 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 265 
 
 By formidable wiles and deeds, 
 So mischievous, it far exceeds 
 Description's artful pen to draw 
 A picture true of tongue-born wo ! 
 
 If to your closet you repair, 
 And live in strict seclusion there, 
 Yet slander will be on you hurl'd, 
 And gossips preach you to the world. 
 They'll guess your darkest secrets out, 
 And tell their mates what you're about. 
 Some barbarous tongue will spoil your name, 
 And shave and clip away your fame. 
 
 How much should youths watch o'er their feet, 
 Lest such destructive foe they meet ; 
 And let maturer man beware, 
 Lest he should fall by such a snare. 
 
 THE PASSING STORM. 
 wilder a small "turf -rook," on the Fylingdales High Moor 
 during a severe snow shower, October 17th, 1848. 
 
 Here on a wild, uncultur'd moor, 
 
 While pelting storms are raging high, 
 I sit until the gale is o'er, 
 
 And watch the angry cloud sweep by. 
 No shelter but the stunted heather ! 
 
 No canopy except the sky ! 
 Expos'd to all the bitter weather ! 
 
 No friend or habitation nigh \ 
 
 And yet at these I'll not repine, 
 
 For Providence hath sent them so ; 
 And soon the sun again will shine, 
 
 And more congenial prospects show. 
 Eepining is a curse indeed, 
 
 That fills us with untimely grief ; 
 But firm content oft helps our need, 
 
 And brings our sorrows much relief. 
 
26G MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 
 
 QUARRELS. 
 
 Addressed to a Friend after a slight contention. 
 
 Why should we quarrel for a little, 
 And break the bands which Friendship ties ? 
 
 Why should we jar about a tittle, 
 And fill with tears each other's eyes ? 
 
 Why do we not to Wisdom listen, 
 And wisely learn and wisely do, 
 
 Rather than every prospect ruisten 
 By words perverse, and wicked too ? 
 
 Is Friendship to us such a trifle, 
 
 That we regard it as the dust, 
 And every thought of candour stifle 
 
 Against the things we know are just ? 
 
 Why careful hold our angry tinder 
 Beneath each falling spark of spleen ? 
 
 Then light the torch and rake the cinder, 
 To kindle fires intensely keen ? 
 
 Ah ! let us shame to be for ever 
 In burning rage for little things, 
 
 And through the future, never, never 
 Our Friendship wound with poison'd stings. 
 
 Nay, let us be each other's blessing, 
 And strive to sweeten life with peace, 
 
 That we may live such joys possessing 
 As must the bliss of Friends increase. 
 
 MADAM FLIMSY. 
 
 Young Madam Flimsy was a wit, 
 Whose beauty all would prize ; 
 
 The Fops would boast how they had lit 
 Cigars at her sweet eyes ! 
 
 She was a peacock in attire 
 Most lovely, gay, and smart ; 
 
 Her voice, like music from the lyre, 
 Could charm the stubborn heart. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 267 
 
 Love conquests many she had made, 
 
 Yet bid them all adieu, 
 Supposing that her flirting trade 
 
 Her pleasures would renew. 
 But, thro' coquetry, show, and pride, 
 
 She was the common jest ; 
 None with the blessings of a bride 
 
 Would give her wishes rest. 
 At last, when scorn'd by eVry swain, 
 
 With pride all mortified, 
 She found her flirting all was vain, 
 
 And, broken-hearted, died ! 
 
 So all ye maids who would be wives, 
 
 Be not too proud or vain ; 
 Or you will thro' your future lives 
 
 Be what all men disdain. 
 Let modesty and virgin truth 
 
 Be all your souls' pretence, 
 To show the vainly flirting youth 
 
 That you have better sense. , 
 
 SONNET TO EARLY WINTER. 
 
 Written in Fylingdales, October IStli, 1848, during severe N.E. 
 wmd and snow. 
 
 What meanest thou, fierce Winter, thus to cast, 
 
 Untimely, on the trembling elements 
 Thy furious wrath, thy penetrating blast 
 
 And swollen clouds, that scatter their contents 
 Wide o'er the face of the astonish'd land, 
 
 Till poor bewilder'd men the issue fear, 
 And, pall'd amid their daily labour, stand 
 
 To wonder why these early storms appear ? 
 Return, stern guest ! to thy dark, dreary North, 
 
 Where frosts and snows perennially toil 
 To charge thy stores ! Man yet should ramble forth 
 
 To gather in his fruits and till his soil ! 
 These done ! then come, with all thy frigid wealth, 
 To cleanse the earth, and brace our lives with health. 
 
268 MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 
 
 THE FORSAKEN SHIP. 
 
 A Sea Song. 
 
 Oh ! what is yon black speck I see 
 
 On the horizon view afar ? 
 0, can it be the late wild storm 
 
 Has wreck' d some brave old British tar ? 
 Compassion seizes all my pow'rs, 
 
 And draws my tender feelings up : 
 I grieve for those I never knew, 
 
 And drink for them of sorrow's cup. 
 
 Chorus. — My heart is dull and sorrowful ; 0, oh ! 
 My bosom heaves a sigh ! 
 Yet all to me is mystery ; 0, oh ! 
 I'm sad, but kuow not why. 
 
 Pull on, pull on ! 0, pull, brave boys ! 
 
 Propel my sluggish boat away ! 
 Oh, ply your oars, that I may reach 
 
 Yon spot before the close of day ! 
 Lend me the spy-glass ! Lo ! I see 
 
 A lofty ship in shatter'd wreck ! 
 Her shrouds, and yards, and masts are gone, 
 
 Nor can I see a soul on deck ! 
 
 Chorus* — My heart is dull, &c. 
 
 But nearer now ! now, board the ship — 
 
 A vague uncertainty is here ! 
 Is the brave crew alive, or dead ? 
 
 I'm fain to hope, yet full of fear. 
 Nay, all is o'er — she's water-logg'd ! 
 
 A scene of desolate distress ! 
 Yet may her crew be elsewhere safe ; 
 
 But that were vain to even guess. 
 
 Chorus. — My heart is dull, &c. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 269 
 
 A mother, wife, or maiden's love 
 
 May long have centred on this ship ; 
 I wish them joy to meet their friends, 
 
 And kiss each dear belov'd one's lip ! 
 May truth soon bring these seamen's fate, 
 
 And free my soul from anxious care ! 
 And rich success and bliss attend 
 
 Each worthy, dauntless British tar ! 
 Chorus. — My heart is dull, &c. 
 
 THE PERVERSITY OF TROUBLE. 
 
 I'm a reed that is shiver'd and bent in the blast, 
 Yet cannot break off till the tempest is past. 
 
 I'm a straw on the torrent — most willing to drown, 
 And yet not permitted the bliss to go down ! 
 
 I'm a spot on the sky, tho' not by my will, 
 And yet I must darken the firmament still. 
 
 I'm a victim that writhes in the terrible claw 
 That neither will end me, nor yet let me go. 
 
 I'm an atom of dust that is blown on the gale, 
 And tho' I would cease, I can never prevail. 
 
 The perversions of trouble for ever annoy, 
 And tho' I beseech them, they will not destroy. 
 
 Thro' troubles in oceans, in earth, and in sky, 
 I yet must be toss'd, unpermitted to die ! 
 
 How hard, then, the fate that still binds me to life, 
 And fills up my lot with distraction and strife. 
 
 I may not be happy, tho' gladly would cease, 
 And give up all turmoil for lowliest peace. 
 "When nature works on by her general laws, 
 'Tis vain for the feeble to think to oppose. 
 
 Then all I can do is to patiently wait 
 Till the changing of seasons shall change my estate. 
 A a.2 
 
270 MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 
 
 THE SOLITARY HOUR. 
 
 Give me the solitary hour, 
 Shut out from all mankind ; 
 • Secluded from all worldly pow^r 
 That biases the mind. 
 
 A solitary hour relieves 
 
 The soul from greedy cares ; 
 
 Our worn vitality retrieves, 
 And brighter hope prepares. 
 
 The solitary hour invites 
 Sweet nature's private love, 
 
 For things whereto the man delights 
 His energies to move. 
 
 Set free for once, the restless soul 
 Assumes her genial sway ; 
 
 Nor views the tyrant's threat'ning scowl 
 With feelings of dismay. 
 
 If tyrants saw the secret pow'r 
 That stirs the active mind, 
 
 They would not always be so sour 
 In dealing with mankind. 
 
 Unmov'd by censure, or applause 
 
 Of worldly influence ; 
 Her own designs she forms, and draws 
 
 The nat'ral inference. 
 
 The solitary hour defines 
 The motives of the mind ; 
 
 'Tis then her native virtue shines 
 As most she is inclin'd. 
 
 The solitary hour allows 
 
 The wise reflective man 
 To mark which way his feeling flows, 
 
 And ev'ry motive scan. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 271 
 
 The solitary hour be mine, 
 
 My rebels thoughts to curb, 
 Till such content around me twine 
 
 As nothing can disturb. 
 
 Give me the solitary hour, 
 
 Shut out from all mankind ; 
 That reason thus may gain the pow'r 
 
 To regulate my mind. 
 
 AN OLD MONK. 
 
 An aged Monk, who in his cell 
 
 Had spent his former life, 
 Resolv'd no longer there to dwell, 
 
 Bat see the " world of strife !" 
 
 Then out he came, and oft was charm'd 
 
 "With scenes of gay delight ; 
 But most he felt his bosom warm'd 
 
 By ladies fair and bright ! 
 
 He wonder' d when he viewed the young 
 
 In virgin bloom and game, 
 Whence all the old- wife tribe had sprung, 
 
 So wrinkFd, crook' d, and lame ! 
 
 Too wise to ask, he read his books, 
 And skimm'd o'er nature's face ; 
 
 Then fix'd that those with maiden looks 
 "Were a new-fashion' d race ! 
 
 Now, this good Monk had a weak side — 
 
 A rib he wanted there, 
 And took a fashionable bride 
 
 To ease his pain and care ! 
 
 But soon this partner of his life 
 
 As youthful bloom decay' d, 
 Convinc'd the Monk a plain old wife 
 
 Is but an alter'd maid ! 
 
272 MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 
 
 THE RECONCILING KISS. 
 
 "When cruel strifes by chance have rent 
 
 The peace of social bliss, 
 How sweet the love that dares present 
 
 The reconciling kiss ! 
 
 Tho' conscience knows some treach'rous deed 
 
 Is secretly amiss, 
 Yet we forgive, and feel to need 
 
 The reconciling kiss. 
 
 Tho' long we mourn offended love, 
 
 We cannot well dismiss 
 The lip that would our pain remove 
 
 With reconciling kiss. 
 
 How should each lover, child, and spouse 
 
 Cherish a charm like this, 
 And haste in ev'ry strife to use 
 
 The reconciling kiss ! 
 
 THE OLD MAN FROM THE NORTH. 
 
 Who is this that comes up from the North 
 In his cloak and his mantle of furs % 
 
 The tempest wing carries him forth, 
 And the hurricane lends him her spurs ! 
 
 His floods have invaded the plains ! 
 
 He clothes all the mountains with white ! 
 He binds up the streams in his chains ! 
 
 It's Old Winter ! — I know him by sight ! 
 
 Salute him with feasting and mirth, 
 For he hates to be merry and free ; 
 
 He'll rather slink back to the North 
 Than stay to partake of such glee ! 
 
 Invite the old snob to your feats, 
 
 And scorch his cold nose with hot fires ! 
 
 Until the grim Icemaker meets 
 Young Spring, at whose breath he expires .' 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 273 
 
 TO THE OCEAN. 
 
 Whenever, in my solitary walks 
 
 Along the cliff of fearful altitude, 
 
 I take a moment's stand to gaze around, 
 
 And meditate on thee, 0, mighty Ocean ! 
 
 I'm lost in deep profundity of thought, 
 
 And almost think that what I see and hear 
 
 Must be eternal and omnipotent. 
 
 So vast, so lasting, and so fierce the might 
 
 That rends asunder large and flinty rocks — 
 
 Tears up the bosom of the stubborn cliff, 
 
 And leaves a wild, indented, cavern'd front ; 
 
 That sweeps with strange impetuosity 
 
 New channels thro' the solid land, 
 
 Ripping asunder* isles and continents, 
 
 And parting those who once were neighb'ring friends 
 
 By floods which run for ever bold and deep. 
 
 In thy profusion lost, I turn me round, 
 
 Dizzy and sicken'd with the sight, and wrapt 
 
 In insignificance and vanity, 
 
 I see myself as perfect nothingness ! 
 
 How passing grand is thy perpetual heave 
 For ever and for ever to and fro, 
 Proceeding with unwearied constancy, 
 Led by the mighty influence of the Moon. 
 How strong the cord that binds thee to the car 
 Of night's fair queen. That cord we cannot see : 
 Yet, tho' we see it not, it drags thee on, 
 And moves, it may be, every drop of thine. 
 
 * Several divisions of one portion of land from another, by the ageDcy 
 of the sea, are on record ; as, for instance, those of Egypt, mentioned by 
 Plato as having taken place some six or seven centuries before the 
 Christian era : also, the separation of Africa from Europe at the Straits 
 of Gibraltar ; Sicily from Italy ; Ceylon from the Asiatic continent ; and« 
 some think, England from France. The inhabitants of the South Sea 
 Islands have also an old tradition that the islands were made by the gods, 
 in their anger, breaking up the whole world, of which they think the isles 
 are a few scattered remnants. 
 
274 MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 
 
 But what's in thee, we know not. Thou art deep : 
 They say unfathomable are thy depths ; 
 And so they may be to the seaman's lead. 
 Two thousand leagues of line perchance would not 
 Bring sand or gravel, on the plummet, up. 
 The great philosophers will tell me, " Yes ; 
 For that would reach the centre of this earth !" 
 But who knows that 1 If there were naught but 
 
 depth, 
 Why, then it might, or, rather, surely would ; 
 But if there be a passage to and past 
 The centre of the sphere, filled but with water, 
 And thither should a stone or lead be hurl'd, 
 'Twould rest as tho' it ne'er had been remov'd, 
 And hang upon the point of gravity — 
 The point for which all earthly objects vie ; 
 Yet here 'twould show no traces of a bottom. 
 Again, it might not ever reach the midway point, 
 And even lead be buoyant in the fluid, 
 Which here is scarce a tenth the weight thereof ; 
 But which may there be tenfold more compress'd, 
 Or of such diff'rent sort that lead or stone 
 Would scarcely fall therein, and by the string 
 Might be suspended in a half-way place. 
 So dark the paths which we have never seen, 
 Our theories may be wrong, and truth unknown. 
 
 But, thou Sea ! thy raging and thy depth 
 Are naught ; and what destruction thou hast wrought 
 Shall be return' d on thee with tenfold fury. 
 The myriad hosts of men by thee engulf 'd 
 Shall not remain in thee for ever lost : 
 Thou shalt be sated with thy murder'd prey, 
 And then at once disgorge the whole again ; 
 For even Seas must give up all their dead. 
 For, as young birds, when in their nests confin'd, 
 Gain strength sufficient for the task of flight, 
 To soar aloft amid the ambient air ; 
 So shall the dead grow to immortal strength, 
 And all again, when the last trumpet sounds, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 275 
 
 Spring from the secret caverns of the deep ; 
 Shall rise superior to the greedy flood, 
 And from its tyranny be ever free : 
 The spreading Ocean then shall be no more, 
 But lost amid the wreck of elements ! 
 
 Then, my soul ! how will it fare with thee, 
 "When mighty Oceans into nothing shrink ? 
 How wilt thou bear the voice that shakes the earth, 
 And out from depths unfathomable calls 
 (With pow'r that wakes and nerves) the slumb'ring 
 
 clay? 
 That voice whose breath (above the pow'rs of man) 
 Dries up at once the billow and its fountain ; — 
 That voice which then shall blast the hopes of sin, 
 And sink polluted souls to deeper Seas, 
 Where waves of sorrow — waves of ceaseless pain — 
 Shall toss them up and down eternally. 
 
 But there's another Sea for happier souls — 
 A Sea of glory, where there are no storms — 
 No tossing tempests — no unruly winds ; 
 But where the faithful and the happy bathe 
 In all the fulness of eternal bliss, 
 Which flows in plenitude around the throne of Heav'n. 
 
 A SONG TO SYLVIA. 
 Thou wilt inflame ! thou wilt inflame ! 
 My charming Sylvia, all my frame. 
 For Virtue's sake, forbear, forbear 
 To look so winning, sweet, and fair ! 
 0, do not, love, enchain me so ! 
 Let my poor captive spirit go ! 
 I must not love ! I must not love ! 
 I fear 'twill our confusion prove ! 
 Yet I must feel — 0, yes, I feel ! 
 How hard it is with love to deal. 
 I yield ! for I must love or pine ; 
 0, Sylvia, then, I must be thine ! 
 
270? MISCELLANEOUS SHORT POEMS. 
 
 THE SHEPHERD'S MIDNIGHT SONG. 
 
 [In some parts of Yorkshire it is customary, during the lambing season, 
 for Shepherds to attend their flocks by night.] 
 
 I sit alone thro' the long night, 
 
 To tend my flock of sheep ; 
 And constantly pursue my rounds, 
 
 While others soundly sleep. 
 The full and heavy-burden'd ewe 
 
 Shall have my watchful care, 
 And young and tender bleating lambs 
 
 In my protection share. 
 The cold north winds and falling wet 
 
 Annoy the new-yean'd lambs, 
 Till they are hous'd, and warm, and dry, 
 
 And learn to suck their dams. 
 
 But sleep attacks me fiercely now ! 
 
 I feel his mighty pow'rs, 
 And could right well my bed enjoy 
 
 Thro' night's long tedious hours. 
 Yet sleep, begone ! I hear a bleat ; 
 
 Again my round begins ; 
 And, lo ! a fine old gentle ewe 
 
 Has born me healthy twins ! 
 Thus pass my nights, and ewes and lambs 
 
 My cheerful thoughts employ ! 
 At once my pleasure and my toil — 
 
 My harass and my joy ! 
 
 A CONVERTED BACHELOR. 
 
 Is it a crime to love the fair ? 
 
 Then hang me off to-morrow ! 
 For I would rather die than bear 
 
 To live in lonely sorrow ! 
 
HYMNS, &c. 
 
 CREATIVE POWER, l.m. 
 
 Blow ! blow, ye raging hollow winds ! 
 
 Bend the creation as ye will ! 
 Your breath in weakness shall expire, 
 
 If God but whispers " Peace, be still ! 
 
 Fly ! fly, ye lightnings, thro' the sky ! 
 
 Ye sullen thunders, grumble on ! 
 The Maker of the worlds will mark 
 
 How far ye both may freely run. 
 
 Tear up, ye waves, the solid rock, 
 And lash his cliffy mountain breast ! 
 
 But if the Lord of seas appears, 
 Your fury sinks to glassy rest. 
 
 Ascend, ye vapours, thro' the air ! 
 
 Assume on high a starry light ! 
 But the Omniscient eye observes, 
 
 And shoots you down in blackest night. 
 
 Ye lusty infidels, advance, 
 
 And build your learned, bold designs ! 
 They all dissolve like thawing ice 
 
 When true creative wisdom shines. 
 
278 HYMNS, &C. 
 
 THE ALMIGHTY. CM. 
 
 Written during the great Storm of Februwy 17th, 1836, when 
 several lives were lost at Scarborough. 
 
 How great and mighty is our God- 
 How matchless is His pow'r ; 
 
 The heaViis all tremble at His rod, 
 Nor can the earth endure. 
 
 When first He bid creation rise, 
 
 He scarcely spake the word, 
 E'er worlds, and seas, suns, stars, and skies, 
 
 Appear'd with one accord. 
 
 The earth, when fram'd by his behest, 
 
 Was soon adorn' d, we find, 
 By tree, by herb, fish, fowl, and beast 
 
 Of every form and kind. 
 
 And now invisibly he reigns 
 
 Lord of each shining sphere ; 
 He^guides them thro' ethereal plains, 
 
 And whirls them far and near. 
 
 He wills ! and lo ! in distant skies, 
 
 Are clouds of awful form ! 
 Which gather round, till winds arise 
 
 And burst them in a storm ! 
 
 He wills ! and lo ! an earthquake comes 
 
 That breaks the stable ground ! 
 The sea in dire convulsions foams, 
 
 And spreads dismay around ! 
 
 And what is man, that he should boast 
 
 His actions, strength, or skill ? 
 What are his noblest pow'rs at most ? 
 
 What his perverted will ? 
 
 Can man before Jehovah stand, 
 
 And on His glory gaze ? 
 Can he resist God's mighty hand, 
 Or stay Him on his ways \ 
 
HYMNS, <feC. 279 
 
 We own, Lord, how weak we are, 
 Whilst Thou art great and good ; 
 
 We ask Thy pardon, love, and care, 
 Thro' Christ our Saviour's blood. 
 
 SAFETY IN STORMS. S.M. 
 Written in the Thunder Storm, of June 21st, 1851. 
 
 When thro' the firmament 
 The lurid lightnings glare, 
 And the appalling thunders vent 
 Their terrors thro' the air ; — 
 
 When gath'ring clouds descend 
 In wild, distressing forms, 
 Yet calmly shall my faith depend 
 On Him who rules the storms ! 
 
 No thunder-bolt shall dare 
 
 To strike where he denies ; 
 
 At His rebuke the lightning's flare 
 
 Shall seek the distant skies. 
 
 Then safe within His hand 
 I'll wait with solemn awe, 
 While flaming worlds at His command 
 Obey His sov'reign law ! 
 
 No refuge else but He, 
 Who makes the thunders roll, 
 Can e'er a kind protection be 
 To guard the trembling soul. 
 
 Then, 0, my Father God, 
 Thy succour still bestow, 
 That, while I fear Thine anger'd rod, 
 My faith may stronger grow. 
 
280 HYMNS, etc. 
 
 WARNING PROVIDENCES. 4-8s & 2-6s." 
 
 Written after the dreadful Thunder Storm of July 29th, 1851, when, 
 in addition to several other injuries occasioned by the electric 
 fluid, Mr. John Johnson, of Wigginton, near York, was struck 
 with instant death. 
 
 How fearfully, Eternal God ! 
 Thy warning judgments fly abroad 
 
 O'er the astonish' d laud ; 
 Thy thunders shake the earth and sky, 
 Thy creatures by thy lightnings die, 
 
 And we in terror stand ! 
 
 How feeble, Lord, are human pow'rs, 
 When o'er the earth thy vengeance low'rs 
 
 On our apostate race ; 
 With deep contrition we confess 
 Our base degree of worthlessness, 
 
 And seek Thy pard'ning grace. 
 
 Father, have mercy ! while we mourn, 
 From all our lusts our passions turn 
 
 By Thy good Spirit's might : 
 0, by the chains of love, compel 
 Our souls to leave the path to hell, 
 
 And seek the realms of light ! 
 
 HEAVEN, l.m. 
 
 There is a Heav'n, a blest abode, 
 Where those shall dwell who serve the Lord 
 And great their happiness will he 
 Who there shall spend eternity. 
 
 No troubles shall disturb their breast, 
 For Christ himself will be their rest ; 
 He ever wipes away their tears, 
 And banishes then childlike fears. 
 
HYMNS, &C. 281 
 
 There needs no sun to rule their days, 
 For Heaven is bright with glory's rays ; 
 No scorching light on them shall shine, 
 But all is perfect and divine ! 
 
 Then seek, my soul, an entrance there, 
 Where the redeem'd, the blessed, are ; 
 Seek well thy heav'nly Saviour's love, 
 And He thy suit will sure approve. 
 
 ASPIRATIONS AFTER HEAVEN. 4-8s & 2-6s. 
 
 O that I now from hence might rise, 
 And soar above the lofty skies, 
 
 To enter heav'nly bliss : 
 My soul for naught on earth would care, 
 But wish to dwell for ever there, 
 
 Where Christ the Saviour is. 
 
 I've tried this world where mortals live, 
 And find it can no pleasure give, 
 
 Except to flesh and lust : 
 Satan and sinners here unite, 
 With all their art and strength, to fight 
 
 Against the humble just. 
 
 Come, then, my dearest Saviour ! come, 
 And fetch my groaning spirit home, 
 
 Far from this house of clay : 
 Prepare me, Lord, to meet thy face, 
 Then give my soul a happy place 
 
 In realms of endless day ! 
 
 With Abraham may my soul abide, 
 Near Isaac and near Jacob's side, 
 
 'Midst saints around the Lamb : 
 There would I join th' angelic throng, 
 Who sing the sweet, new, endless song, 
 
 And praise the Saviour's name ! 
 bb2 
 
282 HYMNS, Arc. 
 
 SUDDEN DEATH, l.m. 
 Tho' Death is dire in every form, 
 
 And strikes a terror on the mind, 
 Yet sudden death doth most alarm 
 
 The loviug friends we leave hehind. 
 To die 'midst weeping friends is naught, 
 
 If wire in Christ, prepar'd for death 
 If not, how dreadful is the thought 
 
 Of what succeeds our final breath ! 
 Great God ! if on a sudden I 
 
 Should have to meet my latter end, 
 May I be found with thee on high, 
 
 A long eternity to spend. 
 
 If sudden death should cut me down, 
 
 And lay me with the silent dead, 
 "Wilt thou bestow a heav'nly crown 
 
 Upon my undeserving head ? 
 Lord, fill me now with holy care, 
 
 That I may always ready stand, 
 And be prepar'd, without a fear, 
 
 For any death, at Thy command. 
 
 THE CERTAINTY OP DEATH. L.M. 
 
 Written on, retiring from the Funeral of Mrs. Holtby, <tt Newton, 
 near York, May ZOtli, 1852. 
 
 Great Acthor of the earth and sky ! 
 
 How plainly writ is Thy decree, 
 That all created flesh must die, 
 
 No matter where or what we be. 
 No strength of flesh, or force of mind ; 
 
 No bloom of youth, or beauty's pride, 
 An antidote for death can find, 
 
 Or refuge from his might provide. 
 Prepare us, Lord, by plenteous grace 
 
 For the momentous final hour ! 
 When we must yield our life's short race 
 
 To the destroyer's fatal pow'r. 
 
HYMNS, &C. 283 
 
 WANDERING FROM THE TRUTH, cm. 
 
 Ah me ! poor frail, unstable worm ! 
 
 How oft from God I stray ; 
 Tho' oft reclaim' d, I wander still 
 
 From his most blessed way. 
 
 My Saviour God ! teach me to live 
 
 The happy life of Truth ; 
 Teach me in manhood more to love 
 
 The Guardian of my youth. 
 
 Be Thou, when age or death shall come, 
 
 My wisdom, faith, and hope, 
 To guide me thro' the maze of time — 
 
 In death to bear me up ! 
 
 SAVE, OR WE PERISH, LORD ! s.M< 
 
 Save, or we perish, Lord ! 
 
 Amid the storms of life ; 
 
 Rebuke the tempest by Thy word, 
 
 And hush the wilful strife. 
 
 Save, or we perish, Lord, 
 By Satan's hellish wiles ; 
 Defeat him by Thy holy sword, 
 Ere he our souls beguiles. 
 
 Save, or we perish, Lord, 
 E'en with the port in view ; 
 Help us the ark of life to board, 
 
 And join the heav'n-bound crew. 
 
 Save, or we perish, Lord — 
 A woful wreck of sin ; 
 Thine arm of strength to us afford, 
 The shore of bliss to win. 
 
 Save, or we perish, Lord ! 
 We then no more shall cry, 
 But ever sing, with one accord, 
 Thy praise beyond the sky ! 
 
HYMNS, &C. 
 
 NATURAL DEPRAVITY, l.m. 
 
 By nature, Lord, how vile I am ! 
 How depicable is my name ; 
 My words and actions all unite 
 To make me hateful in Thy sight. 
 
 I feel a treach'rous soul within, 
 That's prone to wander after sin — 
 A stubborn heart of unbelief, 
 That oft engenders pain and grief. 
 
 When most I would from error flee, 
 To seek my happiness in Thee, 
 Then Satan comes with fresh attack, 
 And bribes this heart to draw me back 
 
 Wheu, Oh ! I always find this flesh 
 Ready to follow siu afresh ; 
 Nor can my reason, or my will, 
 Keep these vile lusts and passions still. 
 
 Ah, no, my God ! I can't control 
 Tin' sinful impulse of my soul ; 
 If grace divine doth not restrain, 
 All human effort is in vain. 
 
 Come, Friend of sinners, on me shed 
 Those blessings which revive the dead ; 
 Renew my heart, cleanse me within, 
 And make my soul averse to sin. 
 
 THE ENLIGHTENED SINNER, l.m. 
 
 Long have I scom'd the friendly voice 
 Which warn'd me of my dangerous path 
 
 Till now my soul is lost in vice, 
 And nigh unto the gates of death ! 
 
 How long, intoxicating siu, 
 
 Wouldst thou deprive me of my God ? 
 I long have drunk thy poison in, 
 
 And headlong run the downward road. 
 
HYMNS, &C. 285 
 
 Oh, Satan, thou'rt a cruel wretch ! 
 
 Why use such specious, deadly snares, 
 And promise aught, the soul to catch — 
 
 Then drown it in a gulf of cares ? 
 
 Where's the reward thou saidst to me 
 
 I should obtain by wickedness ? 
 I sure have labour'd hard for thee ; 
 
 But all my hire is much distress. 
 
 Thy faithful servant I have been, 
 
 But thou of masters art the worst ; 
 Were ever servants paid like thine ? 
 
 Their greatest gain to lose the most ! 
 
 A wretched end appears in view ! 
 
 The dreadful verge of endless wo ! 
 My 'frighted soul its choice must rue I 
 
 What shall I do ? — where shall I go % 
 
 Entic'd by false, delusive scenes — 
 
 By vanity and sin impell'd ! 
 Entangl'd by thy wily schemes, 
 
 Thou monster base, by thee I'm held ! 
 
 Ah, evil tyrant, let me go ! 
 
 I am resolv'd to leave thy ways ; 
 'Tis Christ, the Saviour, I would know ; 
 
 I'll follow Him my future days. 
 
 I fain my Jesus' grace would prove ; 
 
 0, take my bonds of sin away, 
 And draw me by a cord of love, 
 
 To run in Thine appointed way. 
 
 Thy holy precepts fairly write 
 
 Upon the tablet of my heart ; 
 In wisdom's ways conduct me straight, 
 
 And never let me thence depart. 
 
 Then will I sing with sacred joy ; 
 
 My heart shall burn with glowing love ; 
 To do Thy will be my employ, 
 
 That I my gratitude may prove. 
 
286 HYMNS, (fee. 
 
 FRIGIDITY OF THE HUMAN SOUL. cm. 
 
 As cold and barren as the clod, 
 Encas'd in ice and snow, 
 
 Are human souls, till the great God 
 His Spirit doth bestow. 
 
 Then in a new-created might, 
 
 Of rich celestial pow'rs, 
 The soul bursts forth in gay delight, 
 
 Like vernal blooming flow'rs. . 
 
 And like a sweet melodious bird, 
 In nature's worship skill'd, 
 
 In new-born praise her voice is heard, 
 With joy and duty fill'd. 
 
 Descend, sweet renovating breath 
 
 On all our icy race, 
 And clothe our souls of moral death 
 
 With fruits of heav'nly grace. 
 
 EARTHLY JOYS UNSUBSTANTIAL. 7s. 
 
 All the pleasures of this life 
 Are but bubbles light and vain — 
 
 Buds of joy, with evil rife, 
 Quickly rip'ning into pain ! 
 
 Could such vain nonentities, 
 If we might possess them all, 
 
 Ever bless the mind with peace — 
 Ever satisfy the soul ? 
 
 They may tempt, but never bless ; 
 
 They may lull the soul to sleep — 
 Sow the heart with wretchedness, 
 
 Giving misery to reap. 
 
 Hence to heav'n my soul aspires, 
 To a joy that's ever new — 
 
 That can fill my vast desires 
 More than all the world can do ! 
 
HYMNS, &C. 287 
 
 SALVATION IN CHRIST ALONE. 4-8s & 2-6s. 
 Acts, iv. 12. 
 
 Close by the dismal grave we stand, 
 And totter on its gloomy brink, 
 
 And all its terrors see ; 
 We even feel that death's at hand, 
 Nor know how soon our souls may sink 
 
 Into eternity ! 
 
 But, tho' all future things were told, 
 And heaVn and hell at large were seen, 
 
 In glory and in pain ; 
 Yet, Oh, how dull ! — how deadly cold ! 
 Our hearts, unchang'd amidst the scene. 
 
 Their sinfulness retain. 
 
 Yes ! tho' all beings should unite 
 To ransom man from error's chain, 
 
 Or free one soul from sin ; 
 Yet all their wisdom and their might, 
 "Without our Jesus is in vain — 
 
 They could not make it clean. 
 
 Descend, then, 0, thou Mighty One ! 
 Display Thy mercy and Thy pow'r, 
 
 And let us taste Thy love. 
 Accept us thro' what Christ has done. 
 And make us, in this flying hour. 
 
 Thy loving-kindness prove ! 
 
 PRAYER FOR PURITY, l.m. 
 
 Great God ! wilt thou the pow'r impart, 
 That I may search my treach'rous heart, 
 And purge whate'er therein may be 
 That stands oppos'd to Truth and Thee ! 
 
 Teach me each vicious thought to hate, 
 And each dear lust t' eradicate, 
 That I may never dare to love 
 An object Thou wilt disapprove. 
 
HYMNS, <fcc. 
 
 A REFUGE FROM THE STORM. 4-8s & 2-fe. 
 Isaiah, xxv. 4. 
 
 When to the Christian's soul appear 
 Temptations, snares, and sins, and care, 
 
 In all their darkest form ; 
 He need not shrink, or hrook despair, 
 For by his side the Lord is there — 
 
 A refuge from the storm ! 
 
 When on the wild, tumultuous seas 
 Of passions, pains, and agonies, 
 
 The waves my bark deform, — 
 I'll look to Christ, my all in all, 
 And He shall be unto my soul 
 
 A refuge from the storm 1 
 
 Thro' evVy season of my life, 
 
 Thro' roughest paths, thro' hardest strife, 
 
 My heart shall fear no harm ; 
 Tho' clouds and storms my comforts hide, 
 I know my Saviour can provide 
 
 A refuge from the storm ! 
 
 And when this life of time shall end, 
 The Lord will be the Christian's friend, 
 
 And save the helpless worm : 
 "When nature wrecks and breaks away, 
 God will to all his saints display 
 
 A refuge from the storm ! 
 
 Then give me, Lord, all needful grace, 
 To hold me on the Christian race, 
 
 And all Thy will perform ; 
 That I in Thee, from earthly pain, 
 And from the floods of death, may gain 
 
 A refuge from the storm ! 
 
HYMNS, &C. 289 
 
 OUR EARTHLY PILGRIMAGE, cm. 
 
 Tho' pilgrim-like we spend this life, 
 
 And must contend with ill ; 
 Yet joyfully we still march on, 
 
 To do our Saviour's will. 
 
 And He from earth, and sin, and pain 
 
 Will soon our souls release, 
 And close our course of conflict here 
 
 With everlasting peace ! 
 
 LORD ! I BELIEVE. 4-8s & 2-6s. 
 
 Lord ! 1 believe that thou art God, 
 Who hore for me Thy Father's rod, 
 
 And put Thy soul to grief, 
 To save me e'er His judgment fell, 
 That else had sunk me down to hell : 
 
 Help Thou mine unbelief. 
 
 Lord ! 1 believe that heav'nly joy 
 Is full and free, without alloy, 
 
 While earth's is vaiu and brief. 
 0, I would fain enjoy Thy love, 
 And range with Thee thy courts above : 
 
 Help Thou mine unbelief. 
 
 Lord ! 1 believe Thy blood was spilt 
 Even for me ; then, if thou wilt, 
 Send now my soul's relief. 
 I struggle on with faith and doubt. 
 And try to shut the tempter out : 
 Help Thou mine unbelief. 
 
 Lord ! L believe that Thou hast pow'r 
 To save e'en to th' eleventh hour, 
 
 As once Thou didst the thief ; 
 But from such risk, Lord, save me now, 
 Lest I should more hard-hearted grow : 
 
 Help Thou mine unbelief. 
 
 Lord ! 1 believe that thro' the world 
 Thy banner fair will be unfurl' d, 
 
 And all shall own Thee chief. 
 But man is of a recreant race, 
 And long seems doubtful of Thy grace : 
 
 Help Thou mine unbelief. 
 
290 HYMNS, &C. 
 
 INVITATION TO PUBLIC WORSHIP, l.m. 
 Written v;Jiile on the way from Haxhy to York Minster. 
 
 Haste to the temple of the Lord, 
 To sing His praise, to hear His word ; 
 While yet the Sabbath morn is new, 
 This holy work with zeal pursue. 
 Escape awhile your worldly grief, 
 And seek from Heav'n some kind relief ; 
 God gave the Sabbath for our rest, 
 And on this day we may be blest : 
 
 Be blest with grace to heal our woes — 
 With strength to stand, tho' fiends oppose, 
 And find a bliss from duty flow, 
 As more allied to Heav'n we grow. 
 
 FAITH, cm. 
 
 How is it that ye have no faith ? 
 
 What doubt can ye allege 
 Of Him whose truth is seal'd with blood, 
 
 That rare and certain pledge ? 
 Hoio is it that ye have no faith ? 
 
 Can ye dispute His might, 
 Whom winds, and seas, and storms obey, 
 
 And shrink before his sight ? 
 Hoio is it that ye have no faith ? 
 
 Hath Jesus got no charm 
 Whereby to fix your wand'ring love, 
 
 And your affections warm ? 
 
 How is it that ye have no faith 
 Your lasting peace to make ? 
 
 Acceptance is alone requir'd 
 The offer'd boon to take ! 
 
 How is it that ye have no faith ? 
 
 The Lord of glory cries ; 
 And he who meekly tries His word 
 
 Shall in redemption rise ! 
 
HYMNS, &C. 291 
 
 JESUS CHRIST THE SAVIOUfi OP MEN. p.m. 
 
 To faithful saints the name of Christ 
 Is sweetest sound that can exist ; 
 Far sweeter than the softest note 
 
 That cherubs give, 
 Or best musician ever taught, 
 
 Or men conceive. 
 
 It thrills thro' each believer's soul 
 A charm that rules in full control ; 
 It checks his pain, it heals his grief 
 
 With holy balm, 
 And gives his fainting heart relief 
 
 From all alarm. 
 
 What name with such delight is fraught ? 
 How rich the work the Saviour wrought ! 
 What other object can impart, 
 
 In accents kind, 
 Such joy as Jesus to the heart 
 
 Of human kind ? 
 
 If sin or sorrow racks the mind, 
 In Him a sure relief we find ; 
 None can the Saviour's merits tell 
 
 By mortal voice ; 
 For Jesus hath done all things well, 
 
 Of his own choice. 
 
 Then sing his honours, all ye saints ! 
 Nor take delight in dull complaints, 
 But in an endless joyous song 
 
 His name adore ; 
 Let grateful praise employ each tongue 
 
 For evermore ! 
 
 When this tumultuous life is o'er, 
 And we arrive on Canaan's shore, 
 In perfect bliss our souls shall dwell, 
 
 And heav'n shall ring 
 With praises to Emmanuel, 
 
 Which we will sing. 
 
292 HYMNS, &C. 
 
 T E JUDGMENT BOOKS, cm. 
 
 Written on hearing an impirssive Sermon preached in York Mi/nth r, 
 by the Rev. J. C. Atkinson, Hector of Danby, and Chaplain to 
 f/ic Hon. Payan Dawnay, then High Sheriff, on Sunday, March 
 Mi, 1851, before the Hon. Sir Cresswell Cresswell, Knt., and the 
 Hon. Sir Thomas Joshua Piatt, Knt., Judges for that Spring 
 A ssize. 
 
 Text—" And the books wcro opened."— Rev., xx. 12. 
 
 When, for the judgment of the world, 
 
 The court of Heav'n shall sit, 
 The books of time shall be unfurl'd, 
 
 Where all our deeds are writ. 
 
 Our secret actions shall be scann'd, 
 
 Our private thoughts disclos'd, 
 And all the good or ill we've planu'd 
 
 Be opculy expos'd. 
 
 Then fair (as on the silver'd plate 
 
 The sun our likeness shows) 
 The light of Heav'n shall re-create 
 
 In memory all she knows. 
 
 Our dull remembrance, quicken' d well, 
 
 Will reobserve each fact, 
 And stand constrain'd the truth to tell 
 
 Of every vicious act. 
 
 The sight of those by whom we sin 
 
 Will strengthen our remorse, 
 And strike the sentence deep within 
 
 Our souls with fearful force ! 
 
 E'en now the conscience ill asserts 
 
 Her plea of rectitude ; 
 From mortal scrutiny reverts, 
 
 And shuns to be review'd. 
 
 But, then, the penetrative sight 
 Of Heav'n shall read us through, 
 
 Till we shall own the Judge is right, 
 And just what He shall do ! 
 
 Laid open, all our crimes shall rise, 
 And those we've wrong'd will see ! 
 
 How shall we meet that world of eyes ? 
 What will our conscience be ? 
 
HYMNS, &C. 293 
 
 Now, my soul, thy record fill 
 
 With godly, holy notes ; 
 Reform the folly of thy will, 
 
 And sanctify thy thoughts. 
 
 Remember every day's report 
 
 Is written for th' assize, 
 When God and men, in open court, 
 
 Thy works will scrutinize. 
 
 Great God ! teach me all sin to dread ; 
 
 My love for truth increase ; 
 That, when the trumpet calls the dead, 
 
 My soul may rise in peace. 
 
 So may I every moment live 
 
 As tho' the Judge I heard, 
 Each closing day, my sentence give 
 
 For every thought and word ! 
 
 PRAYER FOR RENEWING GRACE, cm. 
 
 My Saviour ! when shall sov'reign grace 
 
 In me have full control, 
 And to the steadfast Christian race 
 
 Constrain my vagrant soul ? 
 
 How often my repentant will 
 Would change its daily plan, 
 
 And all the purposes fulfil 
 That God designs for man. 
 
 But frail my best intentions are 
 
 To keep a righteous course ; 
 For native vice renews the war, 
 
 And gains the greater force. 
 
 Lord ! save me from this daily strife ; 
 
 Recruit my feeble love, 
 Aid me to live such holy life 
 
 As thou wilt best approve. 
 
 Eradicate my inbred lust 
 
 By the redeeming leav'n, 
 That, working thro' my earthly dust, 
 
 Shall rise my soul to heaVn ! 
 
 cc2 
 
204 hymns, Arc. 
 
 THE BOOK OF REMEMBRANCE. -Malachi, iii. 16. 
 
 THE BOOK OF LIFE.— Rev., xx. 12. 
 
 Written after hearing the Sermon of the Rev. J. C. Atkinson, in 
 York Minster, July ldth, 1851. 
 
 The truthful books of heav'n enroll 
 The works and name of ev'ry soul, 
 "Whose patient, persevering grace 
 Hath well endur'd the Christian race. 
 Iu the remembrance book are giv'n 
 The deeds of ev'ry child of heav'n ! 
 
 Its pages will the fruit declare 
 
 Which all the heirs of glory bear : 
 
 Their ardent hope, their pious zeal, 
 
 Their faith and charity reveal ; 
 
 Their conflicts, and their frequent loss, 
 
 For their adherence to the cross ; 
 
 Their sacrifices to retain 
 
 Their conscience clean where sinners reign : 
 
 These virtues, and whate'er besides 
 
 The truly Christian life provides, 
 
 This book will for their good display 
 
 In witness on the judgment day. 
 
 And in the book of life appear 
 
 All names of saints recorded clear ; 
 
 But those whose names this list omits 
 
 Are doom'd to wo when judgment sits. 
 
 0, may I find my worthless name 
 
 Amongst the followers of the Lamb ! 
 
 PRAISE TO THE TRIUNE GOD. 
 Tune—" Dedication." 
 
 A hymn of praise we sing 
 
 To heav'n's Almighty King : 
 Fellow-creatures, swell the song ; 
 
 All ye saints, your voices lend ; 
 Mortals all, the sound prolong ; 
 
 Angels, let it never end ! 
 
HYMNS, &C. 295 
 
 We sing the great I AM — 
 
 The God of glorious name ! 
 God that fills th' eternal throne, 
 
 "Worshipp'd hy th' angelic host — 
 Sacred, mystic three in one, 
 
 Father, Son, and Holy Ghost ! 
 
 Lord ! our souls inspire 
 
 With pure celestial fire : 
 In our hearts Thy graces store, 
 
 Then in strains sublime we'll sing, 
 Reign for ever — evermore 
 
 Reign o'er all, thou glorious King ! 
 
 SING PRAISES. 
 
 Sing praises, all ye happy men, 
 Who know a Saviour's grace ; 
 
 Let not your souls in sloth remain, 
 But godly mercies trace. 
 
 Sing praises to Jehovah's name, 
 
 For all his deeds of love, 
 While o'er his many acts of fame 
 
 Your thoughts in wonder rove. 
 
 Sing praises of His works of old, 
 
 And in the present day ; 
 How can your hearts to Him be cold, 
 
 Or want of love betray? 
 
 Sing praises to th' atoning Son, 
 
 Who satisfied the law, 
 And bled for sins that you had done, 
 
 And suffer'd all your wo ! 
 
 Sing praises, pilgrims here below, 
 Till each to heaven attains, 
 
 When we more perfect joys shall know, 
 And sing in nobler strains, 
 
196 HYMNS, &C. 
 
 CHRISTIAN UNITY, cm. 
 
 Oh ! when shall pure celestial fire 
 Each pious soul inflame ? 
 
 And all sectarian terms expire 
 In the one Christian name ? 
 
 When doctrines evangelical 
 The church on earth embrace ? 
 
 And all the tribes of God shall hail 
 Each one a child of grace ? 
 
 When shall the joys of heav'n begin 
 
 By unity on earth 1 
 When shall we weigh our souls within, 
 
 And learn each brother's worth ? 
 
 Not till the Lord shall give us zeal, 
 And impulse new impart : 
 
 So now, my God, our discords heal, 
 And join us heart in heart. 
 
 Then shall the truths of gospel light 
 
 All heathen error chase. 
 Dispel from earth satanic night, 
 
 And heav'n supply the place ! 
 
 THE RESURRECTION, l.m. 
 
 There comes a term when death must yield 
 The saints who in his bosom sleep ; 
 
 Like new-born babes, they from his arms 
 To endless glorious life shall leap. 
 
 The bowels of the tomb no more 
 ►Shall hold them as a prison cell ; 
 
 They in a fairer world shall join 
 The family of Emmanuel ! 
 
 Then cease thy boasting triumph, Death ! 
 
 There is a better world than this, 
 Which by thine aid alone we reach ; 
 
 Thou art our passport into bliss ! 
 
HYMNS, &C. 29< 
 
 END OF THE YEAR. 
 
 Another year is ended 
 
 By moments quickly fled, 
 And we are yet suspended 
 
 On life's poor slender thread ; 
 While cruel Death arrested 
 
 Ten thousand all around, 
 On Love Divine we've feasted, 
 
 And ev'ry mercy found. 
 
 As hours in fast succession 
 
 Have run their rapid speed, 
 High Heav'n's supreme protection 
 
 Attended all our need : 
 No skill of ours could keep us 
 
 From earth's surrounding woes, 
 Nor guard against mischievous 
 
 And ill-designing foes. 
 
 Then, as we've dwelt securely 
 
 Beneath th' Almighty's care, 
 So let us praise Him hourly 
 
 For such delightful fare. 
 Lord ! make us ever grateful 
 
 For all Thy mercies past, 
 And keep us humbly faithful 
 
 As long as life shall last ! 
 
 EPITAPHS. 
 
 1. — Be wise, ye wanderers o'er the dead, 
 Before your day of grace is fled ! 
 
 2. — 'Tis thus ordain'd ! our life and strength 
 Must all submit to Death at length ! 
 
 3. — Thou dear companion, faithful friend, 
 'Tis meet I should deplore thy end. 
 
 4. — Reader ! believe this truth from me, 
 That Death pursues hard after thee 1 
 
)8 HYMNS, &C. 
 
 NEW YEAR'S HYMN. 
 Tune—" Vesper." 
 Written by request, to he sung on the Morning of Jan. 1st, 
 Rise ! ye mortals, from your slumbers — 
 
 Rise to sing your Maker's praise ! 
 
 Moments pass in crowded numbers ; 
 
 Quickly move your wasting days. 
 
 Time flies swiftly, 
 Yet our blessings come as fast. 
 Hallelujah! &c 
 Now, another year departed 
 
 Bows beneath your load of crime ; 
 But to you are still imparted 
 Other days of slighted time. 
 
 Praise Jehovah ! 
 Praise Him for his sparing grace. 
 Hallelujah! &c. 
 Lo ! another year is rising ! 
 
 Hail it for the bliss it brings ; 
 
 Offer'd blessings, most surprising, 
 
 Hang beneath its rapid wings. 
 
 Seize the blessings ; 
 Then sing praises to the Lord ! 
 Hallelujah ! <kc. 
 
 THE END. 
 The end of all things comes at last ! 
 
 "We need but calmly persevere ; 
 The die of fate will soon be cast 
 
 On ev'ry trial, joy, or fear ! 
 The end of life is coming, too ! 
 
 Tho' much to shun it we may try ! 
 And he who hath no brighter view 
 
 Than time affords, will darkly die. 
 Eternity, alone, the same, 
 
 Remains unalterably sure ; 
 And he who would true riches claim, 
 
 Must lay them up in heav'n secure. 
 
JUVENILE PASTIMES, 
 
 CHARADES. 
 
 I. 
 
 My first the merchantman surveys, 
 
 When calculating cash ; 
 My second is a gentleman 
 
 "Who mostly cuts a dash ; 
 My whole like music charms the ear, 
 And frees the culprit from his fear. 
 
 II. 
 
 Anger and wrath my first implies, 
 "With hatred fearful grown ; 
 
 My next, a portion of the earth, 
 "Would most men love to own ; 
 
 My whole an isle of ancient fame, 
 abus'd, to England's 
 
 III. 
 
 Equality, a match or pair 
 My first of members will declare ; 
 My second (both in Roman speech) 
 Being or entity will teach ; 
 And then my whole will right pro- 
 claim 
 The source whence all the people 
 came ! 
 
 Ye tyro Latinists rehearse 
 The secret of this simple verse. 
 
 IV. 
 Where fierce carniv'rous creatures 
 
 reign, 
 My first, in nature's wild domain, 
 
 Affords those creatures joy ; 
 My next an ancient coin descries- ; 
 Or token gives, or proof supplies, 
 
 "Where'er it finds employ. 
 My whole, a kingdom known from 
 
 old 
 For warriors resolute and bold, 
 
 "Who once were Britain's foes ; 
 And, hardy still, with barren soil, 
 Amid the sea-born fogs they toil, 
 
 "With few and simple laws. 
 
 A sort of vehicle my first ; 
 
 My next, a creature much ca- 
 ress'd ; 
 Each furnish'd house contains my 
 whole, 
 "Whereon the lady's foot is press'd. 
 
 TRANSFORMATIONS. 
 
 I. 
 
 A creature's name, whereof we boast. 
 Transpos'd,;decIares the ocean's coast, 
 Again, its leading letter leave, 
 The rest describe what makes us 
 
 grieve. 
 Yet these, if rightly plac'd, discover 
 A flow'r admir'd the world all over. 
 Eeduc'd again, 'twill yet bespeak 
 The object which the miners' seek. 
 More forms I see, but, if you please, 
 Unravel and exhibit these. 
 
 II. 
 One point (by mariners express'd) 
 Describes a thing whereon we rest ; 
 
 A second gives a useful dish, 
 That those may dine on who may 
 
 wish; 
 A thud will oft the dresses tear 
 Of the young, careless, rambling 
 
 fair; 
 A fourth gives exercise of voice, 
 "Which many use who have the 
 
 choice. 
 Th' initials of these four eombin'd 
 Oft please the men of curious mind. 
 When you have all these points 
 
 unfurl'd, 
 They'll point your passage round 
 
 the world. 
 
300 
 
 JUVENILE PASTIMES. 
 
 ORTHOGRAPHICAL ENIGMA. 
 
 My foremost snakelike elemont 
 Contorts and hisses as it goes ; 
 Yet never venoms, bites, or stings, 
 Tho'sure as death it ends our foes. 
 My second with my first combin'd, 
 An adverb forms, the grammars 
 prove ; 
 My third with these the Latin owns 
 In a bright noun most creatures 
 love; 
 Tho<c, with my next, a city names, 
 Whereat much human bloud was 
 spilt ; 
 Proud King Tigranes spoil'd this 
 place — 
 Pompey the Great the same re- 
 built. 
 My following three, when us'd alone, 
 Yield a contracted English noun, 
 Which designates, in slight con- 
 tempt, 
 Such men as dwell within a town. 
 
 All theso, a leash of syllables, 
 
 Ariso from elements but sev'n, 
 And Bonn a verb, in frequent use, 
 Which begs some favour to bo 
 giv'n. 
 My two concluding members next 
 Bring a conjunction to your aid ; 
 Of two things you have always 
 choico 
 When by this joint your speech 
 is made. 
 That verb and this conjunction 
 join'd 
 Afford another English name 
 For often-seen professionals 
 
 Not most immaculate in fame ! 
 
 Nine letters, never once transpos'd, 
 
 Give all these pow'rs in one 
 
 plain word ; 
 
 Directly onwards read the whole, 
 
 And to its truth your vow 
 
 accord. 
 
 FRACTIONS OP FORTUNE. 
 
 Three brothers— Joe, and Tom, and Ben- 
 Had just one hundred sovereigns giv'n; 
 
 When Joe rcceiv'd two-fifths of ten ; 
 The part for Tom was half of sev'n ; 
 
 When Tom took three to be his share ; 
 Young Ben one-eighth of twenty got. 
 
 So, when divided right and fair. 
 What sum will be each brother's lot ? 
 
 ANSWERS. 
 
 Chabades.— 1, Par-don. 2, Ire-land. 3, Par-ens. 4, Den-mark. 5, Car-pet. 
 
 Transformations.— 1, Horse— Shore— Sore— Rose— Ore. 2, The cardi- 
 nal points of the mariner's compass— East, West, North, and South— 
 transpose into seat, stew, thorn, shout. The initials of these four points 
 are NEWS, the staple article of curious gossips ! 
 
 Orthographical Enigma.— S— so — sol— soli— cit— solicit— or— Solicitor. 
 
 Fractions op Eortcke.— Joe's share, £'38 8s. ; Tom's, £33 12s. ; Ben's, 
 £28.