m m mmm ££rali£ Warn wsms m 9 ■' i ■ I H 1 KiiW BttBmMm : V 1 I ;.■■,,:■..;■■:■ : '4h$ ■HE nn WUkSm POEMS. POEMS, BY SAMUEL EGERTOM BRYDGES, ESQ. THE FOURTH EDITION, WITH MANY ADDITIONS. LONDON: PRINTED BY T.BEXSLEY, BOLT COURT, TOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, AND ORME, PATERNOSTER ROWj AND J. WHITE, FLEET-STREET. 1807. 71=? ^ Ssl i^7 In iixcnange Yale tfniv. Lib, 18 Mr 1907 DEDICATION. TO MRS. BRYDGES, OF ST. LAWRENCE HOUSE, NEAR CANTERBURY. O thou, whofe care o'er all my life prefides, Whofe hand fupports me, and whofe judgment guides 5 From jocund parties of the noify bar, From crowds, and unendearing circles far,, Pleas' d to whofe cheerful roof I Ileal away, In fweet domeftic blifs to pafs my day ! DEDICATION. (For what wild joys, what flattery can fhpply The tender watchings of a Mother's eye ?) Beneath thy fmiles I catch poetic fire, And ftrike with rapt'rous hand my echoing lyre ! For Thou without contempt my faults doft bear, Tho' oft unmeaning they have drawn thy tear, My ill-tim'd ardors, and my fcom to raife On the foft arts, that grace the world, my praife j Whilft wild Ambition leads my hopes aftray, To draw attention to the iimple lay, Which ftrives the Fancy's vifions to impart, Or wake the flumb'ring feelings of the heart. Vain hope ! For to the mofl negle&ed firing Of the negle&ed lyre I dare to ling. Yet thefe wild wifhes, free from blame, or fcorn, With all their train of follies haft thou borne 5 To whom but thee, my Mother, then belongs The fmall requital of my humble fongs ? Middle Temple, April 5, 1785. PREFACE. THE first edition of these Poems was published in March 1785, in my 23d year. I have now collected many other scat- tered pieces, which have since appeared in other works; and commit the whole once more to the candour of the Public. June 16, 1807. CONTENTS. PAGE Dedication - v Invocation to Poetry SONNETS. I. *Reafons for attending to Poetry. To a Friend - 3 II. *To Mifs M. Written by Moon-light - - 4 III. *On the Charms of Nature - 5 IV. *On Dreams - - 6 V. *On Echo and Silence - - . - 7 VI. *To Autumn near her Departure - 8 VII. *On returning to *****#*#*, Nov. 5, 1782 - 9 VIII, *To a Lady in Illnefs - - - 10 IX. *To Evening 11 X. Written on the Approach of the cold Weather, Oft. 9, 1783 .---.. 12 XI. On Hunting - - - - 13 XII. *To Mifs Milles 14 XIII. * Written at Wootton, in Kent - - -15 XIV. *From Lucretius, B. iv. v. p. 577- Concerning Echoes - ----- 17 XV. * Written at Wootton, in Kent - - -is x CONTENTS. FAGE XVI. Upon an Invitation from a Lady to walk on the Sea Shore - - - - - -19 XVII. * Written Nov. 30, 1784 - - 20 XVIII. Written at Wootton, in Kent - 21 XIX. On Moor Park, near Farnham, Surrey, formerly the Seat of Sir William Temple, whofe Heart was buried in the Garden there - - 22 XX. The Winds - - - - 23 XXI. To the Rev. Cooper Willyams, A. M. - 24 XXII. An Evening in May - - - 25 XXIil. October - - - - - 26 XXIV. - 27 XXV. - - „ . 28 XXVI. To the Moon. From the Story of Mary de Clifford - - - - 29 XXVII. On a Storm. From the fame - - 30 XXVIII. The Wanderer. From the fame - - 31 XXIX. Suppofed to be written by Wcodville, at his Caftle of Grafton. From the fame - - 32 XXX. On mutual Love. From the fame - - 33 XXXI. On Mary's tender Looks. From the fame - - 34 XXXII. By Mary. On a future State. From the fame 35 XXXIII. From a Novel - - . - 3 NOV. 5, 1782. O my lov'd lyre, thou cbeerer of my days ! How ill can I the rude misfortune bear, That, by the damps of this Boeotian air, Thy firings untun'd no more the fong will raife ! The fbout of riot, and th' indecent phrafe, The mad fool's bravo to th' aflaults of care, Ah ! how will thefe affail my palled ear, Now thou haft ceas'd the magic of thy lays! O thou, the queen of this my tunelefs fhell, O leave not vacant thus my drooping bread, But touch me, heav'nly mufe, with wonted fire ! So mall my days within my lonely cell Fleet quick away, in fearch of wifdom bleft, Heedlefs of Comus, and his noify choir. ( 10 ) SONNET VIII. TO A LAI>Y IN ILLNESS. Feb. 15, 1782. New to the world, when all was fairy ground, And fhapes romantic fwara before my light, Thy beauty caught my foul, and tints as bright, And fair as Fancy's dreams, in thee I found : In cold experience when my hopes were drown'd ; And life's dark clouds o'er-veil'd in mills of night The forms, that wont to fill me with delight, Thy view again difpell'd the darknefs round. Shall I forget thee, when the pallid cheek, The lighing voice, wan look, and plaintive air. No more the rofeate hue of health befpeak ? Shall I negle6t thee as no longer fair? No, lovely maid ! If in my heart I feek, Thy beauty deeply is engraven there. ( 11 ) SONNET IX. TO EVENING. July 26, 1783, Sweet Eve, of fofteft voice, and gentleftbeam, Say, fince the penlive (trains thou once didft hear Of him *, the Bard fublime of Aran's ftream, Will aught befide delight thy nicer ear ? Me wilt thou give to praife thy fhadowy gleam ; Thy fragrant breath, and dying murmurs dear; The mifts, that o'er thee from thy vallies fleam, And elfin (hapes, that round thy car appear; The mufic, that attends thy ftatej the bell Of diftant fold ; the gently-warbling wind, And watch-dog's hollow voice from cottag'd dell? For thefe to pureft pleafure wake the mind ; Lull each tumultuous paffion to its cell ; And leave foft foothing images behind. * Collins. See his Ode to Evening. ( 12 ) SONNET X, WRITTEN ON THE APPROACH OF THE COLB WEATHER, OCT. 9. 17^3. One morn, what time the fickle 'gan to play, The eaftern gates of Heav'n were open laid, When forth the rofy hours did lead a maid, From her fweet eyes who (lied a foften'd ray : Bluihing and fair (lie was; and from the braid Of her gold locks (he (hook forth perfumes gay: Yet languid look'd, and indolently ftray'd Awhile, to watch the harveft borne away. But now with finews brac'd, and afpecl: hale, With buikin'd legs, and quiver crofs her flung, With hounds and horn the feeks the wood and vale, And Echo liftens to her foreft fong : Ac eve, the flies to hear her poet's tale, And "Autumn's" name refounds his (hades among. ( 13 ) SONNET XI. ON HUNTING. Oa. 20, 1783. October, hail to thy melodious morn ! Thy gale bears mufic on its fragrant wings : Hark! to the wind the hound his rapture flings, And the glad huntfman founds his cheerful horn : The poor hare rues the day that the was born ; Tidings of death to her the chorus brings, For the vale echoes, and the foreft rings, And faft behind the hunter-band are borne. Onward they come: o'er every barrier fly; Pour down the hill) and fkim along the plain; Then up the fteep again are io% on high; Nor fear can flop, nor precipice reftrain: For courage, vigorous health, and jollity, And manly firength by exercife they gain. ( 14 ) SONNET XII. To Miss Milles *. Jug. 4, 1784. Sweet Is the gleam of morn j and fweet on high The wandering moon j with fweets all Nature bleft: But mod the Virgin's beauty ftrikes the breaft j The tender voice, white neck, and fall black eye Drowfily-fweet, like Sol thro' clouds ; the dye, That paints the cheek, by dark-brown locks careftj The (lender form, that grace and eafe inveft, Yet fhrinking from the fight with modeftyj The manners form'd to fhine in courts; yet meek, And pleas'd with all, and wifhing all to pleafe, Enrapture : but when join'd in one they fpeak, The Bard with joys unutterable feize : Yet fuch he fear'd but in his dreams to feek, Till Mary bleft his gaze with living charms likethefe. * Now Lady Sondes. ( 15 ) SONNET XIII. WRITTEN AT WO0TT0N, IN KENT. Jug. 14, 1784. O ye, the fcenes, that nnrs'd my childhood fweet, Tho' many a mark to Time's rude fickle bow, Which once I rear'd; and tho' the fervid vow No more to yon fall'n bench mail draw my feet ; Nor the green hedge, beneath whofe dark retreat For boyifh frolics oft I twin'd the bough, Remain: Yet in each tree, whofe fhadowy brow Spreads o'er the lawn, an ancient friend I greet! Fancy has trick'd thy hill, and wood, and vale With fairy fh apes ; and from each fhrub, and flower; Each found,the woodman's r>roke,the threlher's flail, And of the kennel'd hounds the loud uproar, My tearful fmiles pall friends, or plea fares, hail, Which all my infant ecftafies reftore. ( 16 ) Ex LUCRET. Lib. iv. V.5J6. Q,um bene cum videas, rationem reddere poffis Tute tibi, atq; aliis, quo pacto per loca fola Saxa pareis formas verborum ex ordine reddant, Palanteis comites cum monies inter opacos Quaerimus, et magna difperfos voce ciemus. Sex etiam, ant feptem loca vidi reddere voces, Unam cum jaceres ; ita colles collibus ipfis Verba repulfantes iterabant dicta referre. Haec loca capripedes Satyros, Nymphafq; tenere Finitimi flngunt; & Faunos efTe loquunturj Quorum no&ivago ftrepitu, ludoq ; jocanti Affirmant volgo taciturna filentia rumpij Chordarumqj fonos fieri; dulceifq; querelas, Tibia quas fundit digitis pulfata canentum : Et genus agricoliim late fentifcere, cum Pan Pinea femiferi capitis velamina quarTans, Unco fsepe labro calamos percurrit hianteis; Fiftula fylveftrem ne ceffet fundere mufam. ( 17 ) SONNET XIV. From LUCRETIUS, B. iv. V 577. CONCERNING ECHOES. Sep. 5, 1784. Wand'ring amid deep woods, and mountains dark, Wilder'd by night, my comrades loft to guide, Oft thro' the void I've rais'd my voice ; and hark ! The rocks with twenty mimic tones replied. Within thofe facred haunts, 'tis faid, abide Fauns, Nymphs, and Satyrs, who delight to mark, And mock each lonely found: but ere the lark Wakes her thrill note, to fecret cells they glide. Night-wandering noifes, revelry, and joke Difturb the air, 'tis faid by ruftics round, Who flart to hear its folemn filence broke, And warbling firings, and plaintive pipes to found : And oft they hear, when Pan his reed hath woke, Hills, vales, and woods, and glens the harmony rebound. < 18 ) SONNET XV WRITTEN AT WOOTTQN, IN KENT. Aug. 10, 1784. Ye fcenes, my melancholy foul that fill, Where Nature's voice no crowds tumultuous drown, And,but thro' breaks of trees, the lawn that crown, The paths of men are feenj and farther Hill, Scarce peeps the city-fpire o'er many an hill ! Your green retreats, lone walks, and fhadows brown, While fheep feed round beneath the branches' frown, Shall calm my mind, and holy thoughts inflil. What tho' with paflion oft my trembling frame Each real, and each fancied wrong inflame, Wand'ring alone I here my thoughts reclaim : Refentment finks, Difguft within me dies; And Charity, and meek Forgivenefs rife, And melt my foul, and overflow mine eyes. ( 19 ) SONNET XVI. UPON AN TNVITATION FROM A LADY TO WALK ON THE SEA SHORE. 1785. Nymphs of the Sea, who by the Moon at night, Are wont, when fcarcely breathes the whifp'rins gale, To dance upon its level furface, hail! To-morrow with your fports I feaft my fightj Play in your freilieft breezes, and requite Your mufic with my long, which fhall not fail Along your murm'ring waters to prevail, And make your cliffs re-echo with delight. For fhe, a nymph divine, to whom ye gave To know your inmoft myft'ries, and to view, While the broad lightning plays upon the wave, Your choir their mod tremendous rites purfue. E'en the will lead me to each hollow cave, And ope each magic of your azure crew. C2 ( 20 ) SONNET XVII. WRITTEN NOV. 30, 1784. This thy laft day, dark month! to me is dear, For this firft faw my infant eyes unbound. Now two-and-twenty years have haften'd round, Yet from the bud no ripen'd fruits appear : My fpirits, drooping at the thought, to cheer, By my fond friends the jovial bowl is crown'd, While fad I lit, my eyes upon the ground, And fcarce refrain to drop the filent tear. Yet, O beloved Mufe ! if in me glow Ambition for falfe fame, the thirll abate ! Teach me, for fields and flocks, mankind to know, And ope my eyes to all that's truly great," To view the world unmafk'd, on me beftow ; And knaves and fools to fcorn, undazzled by their ftate! ( 21 ) SONNET XVIII. WRITTEN AT WOOTTON IN KENT. While I re-wander o'er this wood-crown'd fteep, Yon fheep-clad lawn, and this fecluded dell. Yon Manfion, and yon holy Tower, that peep From the thick trees, where in their filent cell The hallow'd relics of my fathers lleep, I ftrive in vain the tumults to repel That force mine eyes with fad regret to weep, Since my fweet childhood's loft delights they tell. Here my lov'd Parent pafs'd his happy days In rural peace, with every Virtue warrn d, While the wide country round, that rung his praife, His fenfe directed, and his goodnefs charm'd : But I, alas, to genuine pleafures blind, Toft on the world's wide waves, no qniet find ! , ( 22 ) SONNET XIX. OX MOOR-PARK, NEAR FARNHAM, SURRY, FORMERLY THE SEAT 0» SIR WM. TEMPLE, WHOSE HEART WAS BURIED IN THE GARDEN THERE. To yonder narrow vale, whofe high-flop'd fides Are hung with airy Oaks, and umbrage deep, Where thro' thick fhades the lulling waters creep, And no vile noife the munng mind derides, But Silence with calm Solitude abides, Temple with joy retir'd, that he might keep A courfe of quiet days, and nightly fleep Beneath the covering wings of heavenly guides, Virtue and Peace. — Here he in fweet repofe Sigh'd his laft breath. — Here Swift in youth, re- clin'd, Pafs'd his fmooth days! O had he longer chofe Retreats fo pure, perchance his nicer mind, (That the World's wildering follies, and its woes To madnefs ihook,) had ne'er with forrows pin'dt ( 23 ) SONNET XX. THE WINDS. Aug. 23, 1784. Sublime the pleafure, meditating fong, Lull'd by the piping of the winds to lie, While ever and anon collecting, fly The choir ftill fwelling as they hafte along, And (hake with full ZEolian notes the iky: A paufe enfuesj the Sprites, that lead the throng, Recall their force, and firft begin to figh, Then howls the gathering rtream the rocking domes among. Mcthinks I hear the ihrieking Spirits oft Groan in the blaft, and flying tempefts lead, While ibme aerial beings fighing foft Round once-lov'd Maids their guardian withes plead : Spirits of Torment thrilly fpeak aloft, And warn the wretch, who rolls in guilt, to heed I ( 21 ) SONNET XXL TO THE REV. COOPER WILLYAMS, A.M.* Friend of my early childhood, fince the wane Of the declining year no more invites To balk abroad in air, while falling rain, And the cold blaft, the wand'ring footftep frights From miry pathways, and from field-delights ; In this old Manfion, where the pi&ur'd pane With pomp of ages paft enchants our fights, Here let the blazing hearth our hours detain ! Round the glad board while wine, infpiring wine- Liberal not lavifti, aids the unbending mind, Let my wild gloomy fancy, joy divine In the mix'd funfliine of thy humour find! For worldly florms, and every eddying blaft But bid us to old friendfhips cling more fafL * Now reftor of Kingfton, and Stourmouth in Kent. ( 25 ) SONNET XXII. AN EVENING IN MAY. Ye glittering Stars of Heav'n's blue concave. Hail? Ye ancient Oaks, that lift your branches high In the dim twilight of the azure fky, Beneath whofe arms I hear the Nightingale Pour out her liquid notes acrofs the Vale 3 While mates from every half-leaFd covert nigh In exquifitely varied notes reply! Thou faded hill, where bleating Lambs bewail Their mothers loft ! thou hedge, yet dimly feeo, That fkirt'ft the Meadow, whence the fchreel-owl cries ! Ye glancing lights, that oft by fits, between The opening branches, from the village rife ! Hail, foul-compofing fcenes, and harmonies^ That raife the foul to heavenly ecftafies! < ( 26 > SONNET XXIII. OCTOBER. Od. 13, 1784. O lov'd October! Hill my vacant day As thou return' ft, in rural fweets (hall fly! Mid yellow fields; mid woods of tawny dye, Whofe fragrant leaves about my pathway play; By ruffet hedges -, all thy morns I'll ftray : And round the cheerful fire in converfe high With choicer! fpirits meet, when o'er the iky Soft focial Evening draws her mantle grey. Nor will we ceafe, till Midnight's reign profound, The fweet communion of the fleeting hour, While blafts that yet but weakly whittle round, Urge to enjoy the moment in our power, Warninj of winter-days in tumult drown'd, Far frc n the quiet of the rural bower. ( V ) SONNET XXIV. No more by cold Philofophy confined ; By fearful models now no more depreftj I give full range to my erratic mind, And with wild virions foothe my beating bread X Hail, thou lov'd feafon, when the hollow wind Strips the torn foreft of its golden veft j Shrieks in the echoing domes, and frights the hind., Who lees fad fpirits thro' his broken reft ! But while the rain defcends, and while the itorm Burfts in loud eddies thro' the fobbing grove, Spirits before my view of heavenly form, And fcenes of wondrous beauty feem to rove ! Sweet Infpiration's voice my Fancy hears ^ And verfe immortal feems to meet my ears ! ( 28 ) SONNET XXV. Ah me ! vain wifh ! the virion cannot laft 5 And fad reality muft undeceive ! The painted fhapes of Fiction's loom are pafl; And Truth's dull hues with keener fadnefs grieve. Yet mall the Mufe a grace,, tho' mournful, caft O'er the deep fighs ilie taught the brtaft to heave; Shall turn to mufic every wailing blaftj And light with fairy rays the darkfome eve. Weary of Hope ; by cold Neglect fubdued, No more tho' Fancy imp her eagle plumes, Yet (hall fhe foothe the melancholy mood. And throw a fmile on Difappointment's glooms ! Soft are the woes, with which the lyric firing, Unheard by mortals, makes the foreft ring. ( 29 ) SONNET XXVI. TO THE MOON. FROM THE STORY OF MARY DE-CLIFFORD. O thou fair Moon, that o'er thefe fairy hills Cafteft thy filver radiance, while the dew- On every blade her pearly drops diflils, And all delighted feed the fleecy crew ! Sure heavenly fpirits often love to hail Thy rifing rays, and haunt thy lhadowy light, And, frequent as thou ftoop'ft beneath the veil Of yonder clouds, repeat the myftic rite! At fuch an hour as this, methinks I hear Aerial voices whifper to mine ear, And thrill with inexpreflive joy my frame ! "With thee, Sweet Beam, oh ! ever mayft thou bring Such lovely peace, fuch joy without a fling, And lift my foul to fo divine a flame! ( 30 ) SONNET XXVII. ON A STORM. FROM THE SAME. Loud blows the wind ; the whittling woods among Whirl the fall'n leaves, and in the troubled Iky Quick and portentous drive the clouds along, While o'er the grafs the hurried breezes figfe : Anon, the fearful moment part, the fun Breaks through the darknefs 5 and the brightened ftreams, Eoaring no more, in filent fplendor run, While the white fleeple glitters in his beams i Again the gloom collects, a louder groan Shakes all the groves, and down defcends the rain ; And ftorms and funmine mark by fits the day. Thus me by turns, oft penlive and alone, The paffions rule ! O who {hall foothe the pain Beneath whofe threats my youthful hopes decay ? < 31 ) SONNET XXVIII. THE WANDERER. FROM THE SAME. Cross thefe lone downs th' unhappy wanderer ftrays. Views the feas fpread, and hears the billows roar; While no kind friend his moody footfteps flays, Or feeks his bofom's quiet to reftore. Perchance, O Stranger, fhould'ft thou find thefe lays, Shed tears of pity as thou read'ft them o'er: For dark and gloomy pafs his tedious days, While years of loft delight his thoughts deplore. She, heavenly angel — (ah ! in vain the thought Thefe myftic lines will ever meet her eyes — ) Sees the wing'd moments fpeed with rapture fraught, And loft in flattery, dreams not of his fighsj Yet ihe perchance will drop a precious tear, When calm at length he refts upon his bier. ( 32 ) SONNET XXIX. SUPPOSED TO BE WRITTEN BY WOODVI&LE, AT HIS CASTLE OF GRAFTON. FROM THE SAME. Ye mould'ring towers, thefe waters deep furround, That, age fucceeding age, the foreft-fhades Of yon romantic wilds have proudly crown'd ! The voice of Revelry no more invades Your dreary courts ; nor yet with tuneful found Do royal Edwards * woo ih' Aonian maids To melt the Fair, who on their fuit have frown'd: But, fhook by Time and Fale, your glory fades. No more (hall Beauty with her winning eyes Brighten your halls, and o'er your feafrs prefidej But fad and lonely, while your mafter flies O'er foreign lands his forrows to divide ; Silence fhall reign along your chearlefs walls, Save when difturb'd by nightly fpirits' calls. * Alluding to Edward the Fourth's courtfhip of Elizabeth Woodville, at that place. ( 33 ) SONNET XXX. ON MUTUAL LOVE, FROM THE SAME. Oh Love, requited Love, how fine thy thrills, That (hake the trembling frame with ecftafyj E'en every vein celefiial pleafure fills, And inexprefiive blifs is in each figh; Jn the tranc'd ear aerial mufic trills, Fairies enchanted radiance round fupply, Nectar divine the magic cup difiils, And heavenly figures dance before the eye : The dear adored Beauty, who in tears Seen thro' her fmiles, has charm'd the Lover's woes, An Angel not of earthly mould appears, And fpreads enchantment wherefoe'er me goes. Oh Heav'n, kind Heav'n, that joy like this would laft ! But Blifs is not for earth; clouds rife, the virion's pafL ( 34 ) SONNET XXXI. on mary's tender looks. FROM THE SAME. Beam not on me — thofe heavenly looks, fweetmaid. Beam not on me, left loft in blifs I die! — Still as that angel-figure I furvey'd Down the glad dance in graceful motion fly; Thofe flowing ringlets on thy neck difplay'd j That lovely bofom heave the trembling fighj Thofe twinkling feet, that 'neath thy garments play'd, Celeftial beauty met my raptur'd eye. But oh ! thofe tender glances pierce my foul With melting pleafures too intenfe to bearj In vain I would my burfting tears controul, And calm the tremblings that my bofom tear. — Oh, fweeteft Mary, fpare the liquid fire, Thofe hallow'd glances dart, or I expire I ( 35 ) SONNET XXXIL SONNET XXXVIII. WRITTEN IN THE CHURCH-YARD OF ORLETON. FROM A NOVEL, lf98. Ye, who beneath thefe mouldering heaps have found Reft from the forrows of humanity ! I come to keep my vigils on the ground, Where I, too, foon at peace with you fhall be! Then when this throbbing heart has ceas'd to beat,. And lifelefs lies this weak and trembling frame Malice itfeif perchance may not repeat The cruel founds that now aflail my name. "With flowing tears upon the turf I bend, Beneath whofe fhade my athes will decay ; And thus, I cry, Frefh flowers, your perfumes lend To the lone gales, that o'er my grave will play ! And thus, ye breezes, in the folemn tone Of calm and heav'n-rapt melancholy, moan! ( 42 ) SONNET XXXIX, FROM A NOVEL, 1802. O'er this blue wat'ry world, that fpreads around Far, far beyond the utmoft flretch of fight, How fweet the rippling furges' foothing found j Th' extended canopy of Heaven how bright ! Smooth as we go, while fcarce the keel divides The glafly furface, o'er my thrilling breaft How blifsful the ferenity that glides ! How, like the blaft, the paffions fink to reft f But will this brilliant fcene, my Euftace, laft ? Will no winds gather, and no clouds arife, This wide-invefted fplendor to o'ercaft ? Dark in the rear perchance the tempeft lies : But roar the bellowing ftorm, and rage the fea I Still that alone I dread, which feparates me from thee! ( 43 ) SONNET XL. TKOM A NOVEL, 1802. Ye genial beams of this reviving Sun, Thro' whofe foft influence, o'er the fpreading meads Wand'ring I fee the vivid verdure run ! Primrofe and violet, whofe fragrance leads The early honours of the coming Spring ! • Sweet birds, whofe voice in the yet leaflefs grove I hear with doubtful tremulous prelude fing ! New hopes within my breaft begin to move ! And thou too, whofe lov'd image in my mind Holds the firft place j but in my ftormy brain Late with the reft was wreck'd, thy form I find With foftnefs (till more melting rife again ! Blifs here on earth e'en yet may be my lot j And in thine arms my griefs be all forgot ! ( 44 ) SONNET XLL FROM A NOVEL, 1802. Dark o'er the iky has Night her fhadows fpread ! The lulling murmur of the hollow wind A drowfy raufic utters ; while the hind Lies in fvveet 11 umber on his lowly (lied. Me, whom to no fatiguing labours bred, The Morning faw, to gentler deeds affign'd, Chafe the fweet phantoms of an active mind, New fhapes Hill beckon from my reftlefs bed ! Perchance, while yet a thoufand beauteous forms Dance with enchanted radiance on my eye, My trembling bofom keener pleafure warms $ But think, O hind, of Sorrow's fharper figh ! Mine the mad pang, as mine the rapt delight r Thine the calm day, and undifturbed night! ( 45 ) SONNET XLII. Black from the fky November fogs impend j And drizzling mifts enfhroud the hill and vale 5 While o'er the darken'd downs my courfe I bend, And, pleas'd, below, the fhelter'd valley hail. With dangers compafs'd round, befet with foes, As on the daring fteed I feek my way, Methinks the fcowling tempeil fuits my woes, And foothes the cares, that on my bofom prey ! O lovely Mufe, 'tis thine with heavenly power To throw a charm on Sorrow's gloomier! hues j And, thro' the deepening clouds that round us lour, A piercing ray of golden light diffufe ! Ah; generous maid, amid the fable ftorm, Circled with brighter! beams flill mines thy fairy form! < 46 ) SONNET XLIIT. Thou rauft not be another's, O my home! Here, where my infant children's voices fhrill Thy fpacious halls with conflant echoes fill, From the rude ftranger facred be the dome ! And ihould fome upftart, with rafh heart prefume To fix beneath thy fhelter his abode, May nightly ghofts his guilty confcience goad, And fiends by day around his pathway roam! When all this numerous race, that fport around, Shall, with their parents, low in earth be laid, Still may their children's children here be found To own this pile, and fave yon growing made! " Here," may they fay, " our grandfires dwelt of " yore j " And here they nurs'd the Mufe's facred lore!" ( 47 ) SONNET XLIV. With life's unceafing tempefls ftruggling ftill, Onward I go $ no interval of reft To calm the troubles of my beating bread! But thus it is, perchance, that I fulfil Th' allotted part, that is my Maker's will; And thus hereafter, when his high beheft Shall call on trembling mortals to atteft: Their labours here, fome mercy for the ill That I have done on earth I may obtain! Neglected, fcorn'd, traduc'd, with threats purfued Which boldeft minds have awed; yet all in vain: The Mufe's rites no fufferings have fubdued. From paths, her votaries haunt, I cannot fwervej Carelefs of gaining praife, if I deferve! m ODES. ODE I. To Miss Kenrick, on her departure. Jan. 25, 1/82, For many an hour of foft delight, Bais'd in my foul by thy fond fight} For many a fail on Pleafure's ftream, Still foften'd in my nightly dream, Thy memory fhall live enfhrin'd "Within the temple of my mind j And if we meet in worlds above, My foul to thee ftill grateful prove. Can I forget how I have hung Enamour'd on thy gentle tongue ? How, as (like Morning's orient jftreaks) Youth 'gan to open on thy cheeks, ( *9 ) I've mark'd the melting languor fpread, That thy fweet eyes around have fhedj Have mark'd the dear unpractis'd figh, Within thy heaving bofom lie? With what emotion I have feen Thy artlefs fmile, thy tender mien ? Can I forget the raptur'd pains Thefe charms have caus'd within my veins ? No : for thefe joys beftow'd on me, May Heaven its bleffings fhed on thee I Heav'n knows, when we Ihall meet again : And dare I hope this limple (train Will in Futurity's lone hour, Recall me from Oblivion's power, And, as I e'er lhall think on thee, A moment turn thy thoughts on me. Farewell : May Woe, with entrance rude, Ne'er on thy gentle breaft intrude, But all thy tender minutes roll In love, and harmony of foul ! * * The f'jbjedt of this poem died not long afterwards in the flower of her youth. { so ) ODE IL K3T0N BEGINNING THE STUDY OF THE LA"Vf. 1783. Yes, Glory ! I have heard the found, That fhook the vale and hills around, Where all at eafe reclin'd I lay, With melting Poefy at play. Rous'd at thy call to fterner Law, To him my ling'ring fteps I draw. Yet muft I leave my native plain, No more to fee my love again ? What, though no more I all day long May liften to her am'rous fongj Tho' I no more, from morn to eve, Her fairy legends may believe j A backward glance I Hill may roll, To foothe the feelings of my foul ; And (till at times thy toils may ceafe, And thou tby captive may' ft releafe, ( « ) Again in fairy paths to meet The nymph, that led his infant feet; To trace the verdure, as it fpreads Its stealing progrefs o'er the meads ; To mark the leaves begin to bud, And hear the birds awake the wood j And bufy rooks> with clamour loud, That round the reverend elm-trees crowd. To mark the Spring's foft genial cheer From trance awaken'd Nature rear, And all the face of things rejoise Kous'd by her enlivening voice : With her, in Summer's noontide heat, In fome deep made to take his feat, And there unfold with rapt regard The tale of fome enchanted Bard. Infpired Spencer then perchance Acrofs the lone retreat may glance, Heproach my poor affrighted maid, And tell her how (he him betray'd $ How fhe on him from childhood fmil'd, And thence to dwell with her beguil'd j How fhe his heavenly fong refin'd Too exquifite for grofs mankind ! E 2 ( 52 ) For he to winds, and waters fung, And Want aiTail'd his god-like tongue. Scar'd at the warning aim'd at me, I then once more mail yield to thee. But, Glory, thou wilt ftill allow To her to breathe my cafual vow : With her fometimes, at midnight hour, Amid the elemental roar, When Winter bids his winds arife, And fpirits howl along the fkies, To turn the page of heroes old, Of fairy Knights, and Barons bold, And many a foft bewitching maid, In fell enchanter's cattle laid : Then creep with thrilling fear to bed, Nor turn around the room my head, Left 'mid the folemn fhades of night, Their ghofts mould meet my fhuddering fight. If fuch indulgence thou wilt give, Then I with toilfome Law will live.* * The author's retaliations were vain*, he found that he could " live" but a very little while " with toilfome Law." — 1806. ( 53 ) ODE III. To Miss L, L , of I d. WRITTEN BY MOONLIGHT, JUNE 6, 17&3. By filver Cynthia's fhadowy gleam We drink of Infpiration's ftreamj A thoufand fairy fhapes we fee That with the penfive mood agree; Forms in a thoufand lights combin'd Fleet before the tranced mind -, And left we lefe the airy train, We paint them in the living ftrain. Soft maid, left like the pafting cloud, The fcenes that on my fancy crowd, When, by mild Cynthia's penfive ray, To feaft my thoughts on thee I ftray, Left thefe fo fwift mould pafs, my lyre Shall tell each thought thy charms infpire ! As in the pilgrimage of life, Befet with many a toil and ftrife, — - . C 54 ) The fteepy hill of Fame doth rile In hard afcent before my eyes, (Yet fuch as ne'er fhall me detain To haunt alone the lowly plain) Awhile my fpirits droop; but foon Thy form appears in beauty's noon :- " Be thou companion of my way," I cry, " and all my paths are gay ; My love and I will wildly ftray, To pick each flower, that drinks thy ray. May her enchanting form no fate, Like that unhappy maid's, await, ( 5 9 ) Whom gloomy Dis by force convey 'd To his low region's difmal fhade ! For fhe, fad nymph, had only ftray'd To bafk amid thy fragrant blooms, And fill her lap with thy perfumes, When he, black God ! with grim delight. Bore the wild maid to endlefs night. Ah, no ! I never will profane With gloomy fears thy joyous reign ; But, while this youthful blood fhall fport Within my veins, I thee will court; The pleafures of thy train will join, And hail thy blooming nymphs divine j To them my tales of love repeat, And mark, how thy prolific heat On their foft cheeks bids blufhes rife, And (beds fweet languor o'er their eyes. If hoary locks my temples fhade, Ere in the peaceful grave I'm laid, Then may I haunt the rural hall, Round which the rooks, with clamorous calk To thee their early rites begin, Far from the peopled city's din; And wak'd by them, at dawning day, Watch how the buds their leaves difplay; 1 ( 60 ) And footh'd by them, when Eve (hall come, Mark their thick flocks returning home ! Awhile contentious ftrife, and noife, And loud complaint, their reft deftroysj But by degrees the tumults clofe, The murmurers fink to calm repofe. While thus I watch them to their neft, Sooth'd by foft fympathy to reft, Sweet {lumbers o'er mine eyes will creep, And in mild dreams my fancy fteep. Thus, Spring, with thee I'll pafs my day, Thus foothe my evening hours away ; Thus, as I totter on life's brink, To my laft {lumbers foftly fink. ( as tears adown did fteal, Shed on my foul foft Pity's balm, And bad its waves be calm. V. But when relentlefs Time did part f From me the charmer of my heart ; Then have I fought the lonely glade, On her to feed my penfive mind : There did I ftill behold the maid, And mutter to her hallow'd fliade : Or if the focial crew I join'd, Nor jocund bowl, nor feftive dance, Could wake me from my trance. VI. Twas where wild Nature's fertile powers Scatter her raoft luxuriant fhowers j Where hills, deep -clad with {hadowy wood, Compafs green meads, and vallies round> ( 64 ) My beauteous angel's dwelling flood 5 And Autumn fhed her yellow flood Of light upon th' enchanted ground ; Whofe ruflet tints, and dying gleams Still fed my fairy dreams. VII. Sithence, whene'er it meets my fight, There feems a vifionary light Thrown round each object of the place : In every wind, in every walk, A vanifh'd pleafure I retrace, A long-loft miftrefs I embrace, And with her yet-lov'd fhadow talk : And Autumn s gleams my mem'ry frill With penfive raptures fill. ( GS £ O D E VL WRITTEN DURING THE CONFINEMENT OF A LONG INDISPOSITION IN LONDON, 1785. I, O ! when fhai 1 I revifit you, Sweet fields, anu waving trees ? O ! when again, ye forefts, view Your fhades of every varied hue, That whifper to the breeze ? IL O when again in alleys green, Beneath umbrageous boughs. Wander in muling mood unfeen, Or to my heart's enchanting queen Securely breathe my vows ? F ( 66 ) in. O ! when again beneath the gloom Of fpreading oaks recline, While paffing gales that kifs each bloom, And bear its fragrance on their plume- .Exhale an air divine •? IV. Here, where new pleafures fhould appeafe My agonizing pains, I view no meads $ I tafte no breeze, But what is loaded with difeafe j I hear no woodland ftrains ! Not foft on me thro' chequer'd glades The rays of Phoebus fall j I find no interpofing ftiades, But heat intenfe my frame invades, Reflected from the wall. ( $7 ) VI. Yet if deep fhadcs and brighter ikies, Sweet fongs and fragrant air, Were all, for which my bofom fighsj The fmoke and noife that round me rife, With patience I could bear. VII. But, ah ! I can endure no more To drag my days apart From Her, whofe form my eyes adore, From Her, who can alone reftore The raptures of my heart. F 2 ODE VII. WElTTEN AT EWSHOT IN HAMPSHIRE, IN TEE AUTUMN OF 1784. I. Nueses of Thought, ye Woody Shades, Ye leaf-ftrown paths of ruffe t glades, Thro' which, at diftant openings view'd, Dim heaths of purple crofs my fight, Ye will indulge my penfive mood, And let my lovefick fancy brood On thofe fweet hours of pall delight, Which, to the eye of Memory, feeno Like an Elyfian dream ! II. 'Twas Auguft : where I pad along, Echoed around the harveft fong: ( 6g y The Hoping hills, that fmil'd with green; Glittering with rills, the cottag'd vales. Thro' which, amid a rural fcene Of corn and mead, two cliffs between, Peep'd the blue ocean, fpread with fails, All, like enchantment, feem'd to rife, Before my raviuVd eyes. III. While, as by tranfient gleams of light, In front the turrets rofe to fight, Where fhe my eager wifhes fought, Enjoy 'd the freQi'ning ocean's air, A fudden tumult feiz'd my thought; My cheek a fudden palenefs caught; And, as the hallow'd fpot was near, Beneath me funk my faultering feet, My trembling bofom beat. IV, I entered: but my mifty eyes Saw little, and I fpoke in %hs: ( 70 ) Yet moft to her of all around, My voice in vain effay'd to fpeak$ Affrighted at its very found. Tears rifing o'er my fight I found, And burning blufties ftain my cheek i But oft a filent glance I ftole, That fpoke my inmoft foul. V. When waves fcarce murmurid on the more, And from afar the lulling oar Dafli'd gently on the glittering main, Beneath the noon-tide cliffs we ftray'dj Mov'd by the penfive fcene, in vain Then did I drive to hide my pain - } The flreaming tears my heart betray 'd^ But in her fwimming eyes arofe A balm for all my woes. VI. Again, by evening's fhadowy rays, Upon the twilight waves to gase ( n ) We rov'd: awhile a glimmering light The cliffs with foft reflection beam'dj At once the thickeft fhades of night Shed their black veil on every fight; Strange fires acrofs the caflle ftream'd, Whofe walls more deeply frowning flood Upon the fable flood. VII. My colour fled, and tremors came O'er my fond foul, and fhook my frame ; My arm upbore her trembling feet; With love her chilly hand I prefs'dj Her fwimming eyes, that feem'd t' entreat Protection, grew in grief more fweet : I footh'd with fmiles her fluttering breaft, While thus to fancy fpoke her tears; " With thee I have no fears." VIII. We parted: Sighs my bofom fill'd, Yet on my frame her accents thrill'd, u. ..* _.- C 7$ ) \ And half beguil'd the tears that flow'dj Night in her fableft mantle frown'dj My horfe's feet, that, as he trod, Echoed along the hollow road, Deepen'd the folemn filence round j Yet, in luxurious virions tranc'd, Too quickly I advanc'd. IX. Since do I pafs the lonely day Far from the focial circle gay, Where none may heed my altering pace, My abfent looks, my muttering tone: For tho' in every crowded place, By mufic's found, and beauty's face, Still mould I hear the voice alone > And fee alone the image fair, Of her, who was not there. Ye woods, upon whofe folitude I call, to nurfe my penfive mood, C 73 ) Witnefs, that fince I left the maid Who fills my heart, and haunts my fight | Alone I've fat beneath your (hade, Or 'mid your eddying foliage ftray'd, E'en till the melancholy light Of the pale moon's infpiring beams, Loft iiimy fancy's dreams. ( 74 ) ODE VIII. MARCH. WRITTEN IN 1786. Now the doubling vapours fill The vale, and hover o'er the hill j The heath, that right againft the view Lifts it's Hope fide, is clad in bluej O'er the far-extended wood Deep and ftill the grey mifts brood j While by the hedge, and on the grafs^ We brufh the vapours as we pafs. Still is the air ; the leaves and herbs Not a fingle breath difturbs, Save that, by fits, the breeze's fighs In murmurs thro' the boughs arife. Thro' the dead calm that reigns around, Is heard diftin&ly every found : The rooks, that ftill from earlieft dawn With caw incefiant pafs the lawn ; Then quick repafs, with burden fill'dj Their annual airey to rebuild ; ( 75 ) The plough, that fometimes fcreaksj — anon The fwain's loud laugh, that guides it onj The clapping gate, at which we fee, Slowly returning from the lea, The fower, with his empty fackj The woodman, laden at his back With roots, and broken flicks, and boughs^ That cuflom for his toil allows 3 Or red-cloak'd houfewife of the cot, Who from the vill her flores has got To cheer her houfehold, when they leave The barn, or wood, or field, at eve ; Or truant boys, whofe cheerful voice Soon in the vale we hear rejoice j The horfes' fleps along the lane, Or the loud ring of loaded wainj Or from the public road afar The rattle of the fleeter car ; (While at eaclvpaufe from yonder vale We hear the cuckow tell her tale, Or gentle flock-dove pour her moan In deep and melancholy tone) 5 The babbling hounds, whofe diflant cries Wak'd by the horn's loud melodies, Or fhrill-voic'd huntfman's echoing cheer, Die into mufic in the air ; C 7# ) The bleating flock from yonder, fteep, The dog that bays the ftraying fheep, And (hepherd's hallo from the hill, At which th' obedient dog is ftillj The village artifl's hafty ftrokej The flower flail ; the falling oak Tftat echoes from the quaking dell j The rapid whirl from cottage well j The cattle, lowing from the farm ; And thousands founds beiide, that charm? Now the wings of fllence bear Diftin6t along the listening air. Thus as the airy harp reclin'd Moves to the whifpers of the wind, And, in return, from all its firings With more melodious raufic rings 5 The curious ear, in ecftafies, Vibrates to Nature's harmonies, And drives the rapture to repay By mimic echoes of her lay. ( 77 ) ODE IX. ON AUTUMN. *ROIW THE STORY OF MARY DE-CLIFFORD, 1792. The heavenly gleams of Autumn mine, And touch the withering groves with gold $ To babbling hounds, and ftraying kine, The yellow fields their gates unfold. Chill morns, and evenings clofing foon, The fymptoms of the fading year, To me, now changing as the moon, Had been methought for ever dear ! But why this boding at my breaft, Of future and myfterious grief? Thefe fcenes could calm all pains to reft, But now they give me no relief. ( 78 ) Twas here, e'en here, that I have heard The voice divine of angels fpeak, And heavenly vifitants preferr'd To me their airy thoughts to break ! But ah ! my moody fancy ftrays. C 79 ) O D E X. ON MORNING. fROM THE SAME. The morn, in dewy beauty bright, Opes to illume the fkirts of night, And deep behind the we.ftern wood, No more the half-pierc'd fhadows brood : Yet fcarce the foot of Labour's feen Trailing his path in deeper green, "While herds and flocks, uncall'd to gaze At early wanderer, quiet graze. O fcenes of peace, ye calm to reft Th' uneafy tremblings of my bread! Sprites, that, by midnight dark and lone, Haunted my tearful dreams, are flown : Sighing in concert with the blaft, Round the tall battlements they paftj While I in feverifh fancies toft, Seem'd in ftrange diftant countries loftj ( » ) By friends abandon'd, while the cry Of favage nations bade me die. A heavenly youth arofe to fave The fuff'rer from an early grave": Yet fcarce the faviour feem'd to rife, Ere cruel murder cles'd his eyes. Such were the fancies of the night ; — Sweet Morn, thou putt' It them all to flight! And, in their ftead, a train I find Of foothing virions fill my mind ! Hours of my childhood, I renew Fancies of rapture, as I view Yon fhelter'd bench 5 and yonder lawn Oalls back a thoufand pleafures gone. But ah ! that wood, whofe tawny leaf, Tho' beauteous, bears the ihades of grief, Fills me with pains, I know not why, And every glance renews a figh. Thou fading year, does Fate ordain I ne'er mould view thy fpring again ? Yet why, foreboding future ill, My foul with vain difquiets fill ? Methinks more blifs is in my woe, Than all th' unmingled joys I e'er could kiiow, ( 81 ) ODE XI. BY MARY. FROM THE SAME. I. How foft the breezes blow! How bright the face of heaven ! Yet what avails it to the woe Of never being forgiven ? Methinks the yellow lights, that fit Upon the fading grove, The peniive mourner would befit, Who wails her haplefs love ! Yet naught on earth can cure my care, If I another's days have clouded with defpair II. « But I, — alas ! could I Have caus'd the iufferer's grief, Who, did he for a moment figh, Could weep for his relief ? G ( 32 ) thou, whofe heavenly tongue fo oft I've heard with rapt amaze, Whofe thoughts divine, and accents foft, Have charm'd my chiMith days! 1 ne'er could think thy warier light In Mary's fimple form could ever find delight! Til. But ah ! my fears are vain. Yet in the thought I feel A pleafure mingled with the pain, That half my grief would heal. For fure it may not be too late, Since Angels guard him round j And, if with fuch a power kind Fate This little form has crown'd, Blefr. were my voice his pangs to calm, And in his bofom's ftorms thefe tears to pour their balml IV. Yet whither does he dray ? Perchance in woods alone He hears, throughout the mournful day, The bending foreft groan : ( 83 ) Or on yon cliffs flupendous fteep His liftlefs limbs may throw, While loud upon the troubled deep The waters burft below. — Oh Heaven, the gentle youth defend, Left wild Defpair his fleps down the dread flood Ibould fend ! V. Perchance in glimmering glades The lonely Moon he wooes, Till, as its filver radiance fades, He, mid defcending dews, In difmal darknefs wanders on Thro' dreary paths unknown : In vain he prays for cheerful dawn, Unheard he pours his moan; While I, if I have caus'd his pain, Bid not this little voice call back his peace again. VI. But yet this childiih tongue Th' attention ne'er could raife Of him, whofe lyre divine has rung With heavenly angels' praife : G2 ( 84 ) Ne'er could this little form with fighs Fill that exalted heart. Nor could thefe inexpreflive eyes A paflion there impart.— Of flattery born, begone, ye Fears; For furely Mary's fhape is guiltlefs of his tears ! VII. Then hail, autumnal gleams, And foothe this heart to peace 1 Your beauty to the mourner feems From tortures a releafe. Ye glittering fpires, and yellow woods, 'Mid fcatter'd hamlets gayj And ye, ye calm and fpreading floods, That fparkle with the day, With you, in folitude be mine To tmrfe my mufing ioul with Fancy's dreams divine f .-* ( 85 ) ODE XII. TO MARY. FROM THE SAME. Where art thou, Mary, pure as fair, And fragrant as the balmy air, That, palling, fteals upon its wing The varied perfumes of the Spring ? With tender bofom, white as mow; With auburn locks, that freely flow Upon thy marble neck ; with cheeks, On which the blulh of morning breaks; Eyes, in whofe pure and heavenly beams The radiance of enchantment feems ; A voice, whofe melting tones would ftill The madnefs of Revenge from ill; A form of fuch a graceful mould, We fcarce an earthly (hape behold ; A mind of fo divine a fire, As angels only could infpire? — ( 86 ) Where art thou, Mary ? For the fod Is hallow'd, where thy feet have trod; And every leaf that's touch'd by thee, Is fan&ified, fweet maid, to me. Where doft thou lean thy penfive head ? Thy tears what tender tale can fhed ? Where doft thou ftretch thy fnowy arm, And with thy plaintive accents charm ! But hold ! that image through my frame Raiies a wild tempeftuous flame. Oh ! Mary, Mary, let the tale Of luckier votaries prevail, And happier, happier days be thine : But woes and phrenzy muft be mine, ( 87 ) ODE XIII. THE SIX BARDS. FROM A NOTE TO THE POEM, ENTITLED, CROMA, OF OSSIAN, VERSIFIED. 1784. ARGUMENT. Five Bards, and a Chief, himfelf alfo a Bard, having met in the Chief's hall, one evening in October, the time of the High- land Harveft, each goes feverally out to obferve the weather, which is then particularly variable, and returning, here gives his Account of it. FIRST BARD. The Night is dull and dark: in clouds Heav'n the high-top'd hill enfhrouds: From the black iky no moon doth look : The blait. I hear, the wood that (hook; Dull and diftant now it feems : And murmur low the valley ftreams. ( 88 ) From the yew-tree's folemn (hade^ The lonely fcreech-owl wakes the dead. Behold yon mifty form arife ! Tis a ghoft ! It fades, it flies ! From the hut upon the hill The diftant dog doth howl j and ftill The flag lies by the mountain-rill ; By his fide the faithful hind: Hah ! thro' his horns fhe hears the wind \ She flarts, but links to reft again : The fearful roe doth fafe remain In the cleft rock : the heath-cock's head His fpreading wing in reft; doth lhadc. Abroad to ftray no beaft, nor bird, Save the owl and fox, is heard : She upon the leaflefs tree 3 On the dark mountain, howling, he. Sad, panting, to defpair a prey, The traveller has loft his way; Thro' fhrubs and thorns, the foreft's maze, Betide the gurgling rills, he ftrays : The rock, the pool his foul affright; He fears the pale ghoft of the night. Trees to the furious blaft refound, And foiling branches (hake the ground : } ( 89 ) By the wild wind the clinging thorn Along the fighing grafs is borne. The Night is cloudy ; full of ftorms; Dark} haunted by the ghoftly fprite: Wander the dead in ihadowy forms : My friends, receive me from the Nights SECOND BARD. Howling winds the mountain make; Faft down the hill defcend the fhowersj Windows clap, and forefts quake ; The growing river roars; The doubtful ford yon traveller tries ; But hark, that fhriek ! He falls, he dies \ The cattle fly $ the beating rain Drives them from the wat'ry plain j They tremble, as the torrents fall, And feek with eager eyes the flail. The Hunter Harts from fleep, difmay'd. And wakes the lone hut's fire decay'd; His dripping dogs fmoke round his hearth ; He flops the opening chink with earth. Loud roar two mountain-ftreams; they meet Befide his booth j while fad doth fit - Hi ( 90 ) The fhepherd by the mountain's fide; He waits, till the full dreams fubfide; But gathering waters roll around. And groaning trees above him found 5 He waits the moon's anting light, To his lov'd home to bear him right. Ghofts ride upon the ftorm to night: Sweet is their voice the dying winds among, And of other worlds their fong. The rain is paft, and tempefts blow ; Windows flap ; and rivers flow: Cold drops from the roof defcend ; The fky is clear; no clouds impend. But ah! See there the gathering ihowers; The weftern fky with darknefs lours : The night is ftormy ; void of light; My friends,, receive me from the Night. } THIRD BARD. The wind ftill founds between the hills ; Still the riven rocks it fills; From their high place the firs are bent; Wide the turfy hut is rent : ( 91 ) Each way the clouds divided fail, And the burning ftars unveil : The meteor, token of our doom, Flies fparkling thro' the lurid gloom y It burns upon the hill : I fee The fern, dark rock, and fallen tree. What fhrouded ghoft, of paly hue, Beneath yon branches do I view ? The dark waves tumble on the lake) Upon its rocky fides they break : The oars upon the white wave move -, The boat is brimful in the cove : Sad fits a maid the rock befide ; She gazes on the rolling tide ; She waits her lover's promis'd fight, Whofe boat the faw, when yet 'twas light. Are thefe his fhatter'd oars, that break On the rough thore? Is this his fhriek, That in the whittling wind does fpeak? Hark ! Defcends the rattling hail - } Flakes of mow the ground o'erveil : White grows the top of every hill] And the ftormy wind is ftill : Varied, and cold the ftorm defcends : Receive me from the Night, my friends. } ( 92 ) FOURTH BARD. The Night is calm j and fair : the Heaven Starry and blue : the clouds are driven Far by the winds, that are fuppreft ; And Moonlight on the hills doth reft: Trees glitter : Shine the mountain-ftreams : Bright rolls the lake its moon -reflecting beams The fcatter'd fhocks of corn I fee Upon the plain, and fallen tree: The wakeful hind the {hocks rebuilds, And whittles on the diftant fields. The Night is fettled, calm, and fair: But who is flitting in the air, She from the dead, in robe of fnow, With golden treffes on her brow, Chief- of-the-people's lovely child, Beneath the fpear of Death who fmil'd ? Come, lovely Maid, and blefs our fight, Thou, in whom Heroes took delight ! Hah ! on the blaft the phantom flies : Formlefs it melts into the ikies. Blue mifts acrofs the valley fleet : -Grey, on the hill the clouds they meet. ( 93 ) The Moon throughout the Heav'ns is bright : The Night is ftarry, calm, and blue : Receive me not, my friends, from Night ; The Night is lovely to the view. FIFTH BARD. Calm, but dark the Night j a cloud Doth in the Weft the Moon enmroudj Crofs the dark hill her feeble beam Moves flowly : founds the diftant ftream; The torrent murmurs on the rock : From the booth is heard the cock. Pall is more than half the night : The houfewife wakes the dying light; The kindled fire difpels the gloom j The hunter thinks that morn is come; He calls his nimble dogs around ; Whittling he goes, and, at the found, With him o'er gloomy hills they bound: The cloud, with blafts difperfing, flees: The North's ftar-circled plough he fees : Much of the night to pats remains: Againft the molly rock he leans. } ( 94 ) Harkl The wood a whirlwind makes j A murmur low the valley wakes ; The armies vaft of dead are there, Returning from the crowded air. Tfce Moon behind the mountain ileeps j Beyond that lofty rock fhe peeps : The ihadows of the trees are tall :- Now mafTy darknefs covers all : Wide the dreadful gloo?n extends; Receive me from the Night, my friends. SIXTH BARD. THE CHIEF HIMSELF. Let clouds upon the hills appearj Spirits fly, and travellers fearj In the woods let whirlwinds rife ; And falling ftorms difiurb the fkiesj Let windows clap, and torrents roll j Let meteors glare from pole to pole: Let the bright moon her radiance (lied, Or in black clouds enclofe her head ; ( 95 ) Little the night employs my care, Stormy, or dark, or blue the air : Night flies before the gleam of morn, , Soon as his rays the hill adorn -, Difperfing clouds the d,:y reftore, But we return from night no more. Where are our mighty kings of old, Our far-fam'd Kings, in battle bold ? The fields, where once they fought, are dumb: Scarce remains their moffy tomb ! So We from memory ihall decay; This lofty houfe fhall (ink a way 5 Our fons the fragments of the fall Shall fee not ; but to age mall call, To tell, where flood their Father's Hall ! Raife the fong 3 the harps refound ; Send the fhells of joy around 5 Let an hundred tapers fhine; Youths and Maids in dances join 3 The hoary-headed minftrel bring, The deeds of other times to ling : Of mighty Kings, renown'd of old ; Of Chiefs, that we no more behold ! Thus pafs away the cheerful night, Till the flrft gleams of morning-light; l ( 96 ) Then, Youths, the twanging bow affurac 5 And, thro' the Night's withdrawing gloom, With tuneful dogs the morning cheerj And climb the hills, and wake the deer ! ( 97 > O D E XIV. FROM A NOVEL, 1798.. T. Thy form revives me, lovely maid! Thine image glances crofs the (hade, And (hews a gleam of joy : Perchance the clouds, that gather round. May not o'erhang the diftant ground, Nor diftant hopes deftroy: Perchance the ray, that breaks From thy enchanting mien, a happier omen fpeaks. O days of foft delight, Too little priz'd, when in thy fight, At Orleton's feftive dome, I pafs'd the dove-wing'd hours, and view'd The beauties, on which now I brood, As through thefe fhades I roam ! O days, that come no more; How fondly I regret your pleafures, now they 're o'er! H ( 98 ) III. O flay, fweet formj My chilling profpects warm} Nor leave me thus a prey to dreary Woe ! O flay, fweet form, and calm My beating breaft, and pour a balm Upon thefe wounds, no other cure can know !-— — Alas ! the vifion fliesj And leaves me in defpair to breathe my lonely fighs. ( 99 ) ODE XV. THE VICTIM OF DESPAIR. FROM A NOVEL, 1802. I. Wan moon, behind that cloud Why doft thou hide thy filvery rays ? O do not thus thy beams enftiroud From the lorn wretch, who for thy guidance prays! While thus I tread the precipice, And hear the roar of torrents rife, Break forth, and lead my fleps, my fpirits calm, And on my burfting heart fried e'en a tranfient balm! II. To thee the maniac bends; To thee he pours the mournful figh I But not thy moody light attends One 'mid the frantic tribe fo fad as I. H 2 ( 100 ) O fave me from the fiend, Defpair, Who in this darknefs feems to wear A giant fhape of more terrific mien, While by the mifts of night his form is dimly feen I IIL Ferch'd on fome giddy height Behind me oft the demon fits j The elements combine their fpitej Bellows the wave, and howls the blafl by fits. Urg'd by the fiend's revengeful hand Upon the trembling edge I ftand; But fav'd by Heaven, recall my erring feet, And from the yawning gulph with fhuddering awe retreat. IV. And oft in dreary dells, With midnights' fable mantle clad', He fills the air with piercing yells; And brings to Fancy's view the wretch with tortures mad ! Then, when the furTerer, wild with woe, Would arm againft himfelf the blow, Strives to ftrike home the inftrument of death,. And from the gafping wound let out the vital breath. ( 101 ) V. Fair Orb, fend forth thy ray ; Banith the phrenzied phantom erew, Which round about the demon play, And give the fiend a more diffracting hue ! Thou haft, foft Beam, no fairy fpell The withering power himfelf to quell; But gloom lefs terrible thou can'ft beftow ; And on his woe-ftruck rage^a calmer influence throw! VI. Wild Fancy's headlong ftarts; The laugh convuls'd, the frantic flare ; The fcream that thro' the welkin darts j And threats of withering found , that make th' af- frighted air, From me, O Heaven, in mercy chafe! Mine be Defpair's more fullen face; And let no tranfient thapes of Hope appear, To make the hues of Woe by contrail more fevere! ■ MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. DEDICATION TO A NOVEL, 1802. THE AUTHOR TO HIS BOOK. Child of my brain, fond imp, who many a day, Haft, as I nurs'd thee, footh'd my cares away, Go forth, and with attemper d fears await From the world's curious eye, thy doubtful fate ! Bred in the ihades, whofe lolitary reign Gives heartuck forrow leifure to complain, Where no gay objects break th' unvarying hours j Where Fear before, Regret behind me lours, How in thy growing form could I infufe The brilliant colours of an happier Mufe? See Avarice, Fraud, and Perfidy combine Againft my iil-placd tmft the dark defign j See "hard Unkindaefs" ftrain th' "averted eye," And "light with her, fee Summer-friendlhip fly;" ( 103 ) Mark Folly's grin, as yonder cap of bells Stands to her view: how far and wide fhe tells, 'Twas for herfelf the gingling crown was made ; For fee her temples by herfelf array'd ! Yet, as the laugh, the demon fought, goes round, Lo ! with mad anger how fhe flamps the ground ! Now deep Revenge her burfting bofom fires j With Calumny and Malice fhe confpires, And calls the fiends of hell, in dire debate, To blafl the haplefs victim of her hate S 'Tts thus that Care my life to torrow dooms, And, ere my manhood's paft, my ftrength confumes; Still at my heart the greedy vulture lies; When Morning dawns, his ravenous maw he plies: Nor yet at night, fhook from his prey, he flies. But Truth's all piercing luflre mall prevail, And Falfehood wade the venom of her tale! In rural bowers to pafs the virtuous day, Far from the crowd where rival paffions fway; By intellectual toils my mind to raife, And feek from mental efforts all my praife; Sure will at laft the tongue of Slander charm, And Hell's malignity itfelf difarm ! For not with Hate my trembling breaft is fraught; Far other throes has tearful Feeling taught 5 ( 104 ) Soft to the mild, tho' to the clamorous loud ; Humble to meeknefs, tho' to infult proud ; Prompt to forgive, if ready to refent, E'en when the anger's juft, I foon relent ! Awake then, Hope ! No more by wrongs oppreft, Beneath thefe clouds of Sorrow I fhall reft; But long o'erwhelm'd by undeferved blame, Tried by Ad verity's relentlefs flame, With fufTerings, and "with dangers compafs'd round,'* Shall purer from the fearching fire be found ! Sept. 6, 1802. ( 105 } SONG. TROM A NOVEL. "WRITTEN IN THE CHARACTER OF A BEAUTIFUL GIRL OF SIXTEEN, IMMURED IN AN OLD DESERTED MANSION, IN A SOtllARf COUNTRY. I. I see the bud open; I hear the bird ling; The flutter of joy's on the tree; The lambs of the valley all frifk in a ring ; The lowing herds greet the arrival of Spring; All Nature is laughing fave me! I. I have no one, to whom I can pleafure impart} I have no one my converfe to fhare; This folitude chills all the flow of my heart; And my bread with regrets of more venomous dart Thefe figures of cheerfulnefs tear ! ( 106 ) III. O why am I thus in feclufion immur'd? In fecrecy why was I nurft: O wherefore fo anxioufly am I fecur'd? This dull lonely life can no more be endur'dj The bonds of my prifon I'll burft ! IV. I have heard the owl hoot ; I have heard the ghoft fhriek, And the ftorm thake the tower and the tree; 1 have cower' d round the fire,, when my lips dar'd not fpeak ; But like thefe, fure no trials my fpirits could break, When all are delighted 4ave me ! < 107 ) LINES WRITTEN IMMEDIATELY AFTER PARTING FROM A LADY. She is gone! The occafion for ever is pad! How each ftep, as it brought me too near tothelaftp Still gave a new rend to my heart! " Three moments to fly," to my bofom I faid, " Three moments, and then the occafion is fled, " The concern of thy life to impart!" II. "Woe is me! She is gone! My too flattering breaft, That fcarce knew what 'twas doing, the words half ex pre It, And "Be mine" on my tongue died away! " Be mine !" at the thought the tear flood in my eye; And confus'd as I was, me perchance knew not why. Came the time flie no longer might flay ! ( 108 ) III. She is gone, and fhe knows not the pangs that I feel! Perhaps, if flie did, the dear angel might heal The wounds that her beauties have made !, She might fmile ! — By the gods, how I'd blefs her dear fmile ; She might fay, " As your words feem devoid of all guile, « I will truft I mall not be betray'd T IV. " By the Father of Heav'n," from my heart I'd reply, " If all that I fpeak, that I write, look, or figh, (l Is as warm as the love in my breaft, ee May my right hand its office forget, and my truth " Ne'er again be believ'd, but the bud of my youth " With infamy wither oppreft !" V. She is gone ! had (lie heard me thus utter the vow, Perchance (lie had deign'd a kind look to beftow, And a tear had returned to mine ! ( 109 ) Her kind heart with pity had view'd my diftrefs, And, like angels enjoying the pleafure to blefs, Perchance ilie had faid, " I'll be thine !" vr. " I'll be thine !"' O what rapturous accents to me S. Tears had gufh'd from mine eyes, and I'd fallen on my knee> And blefs'd her a thoufand times o'er! Perdition revenge me, if ever my voice, Or my heart, for the kindnefs to me in her choice,, Forgot the dear maid to adore h VII. But {he's gone! Where, O where am I ftraying? I dream ! O Fancy, with what airy plans doft thou teem ! She is gone, and has heard not my wt>es ! She is gone, and it was not my angel that fmil'd^ 'Twas her fhade my idolatrous fancy beguil'd! On delation my raptures arofel ( no ) VERSES INSCRIBED IN A BOOK, A LEGACY TO A VERY YOVW& LADY,* FROM PHILIP ABBOT, AN OLD MAN, WHO HAD BEEN A SERVANT IN HER FAMILY, AND DIED, AGED Q6, MARCH 1782, 03. 1782. When a few moons (heav'n grant the lot!) have fhed Their ripening luftre o'er thine infant head -, And Shakefpear's page, my Lucy, fhall unroll To thy rapt fight the mirror of the foul; There, 'mid hisfcenes with thoufand colours fi aught, Old Adam mail enchant thy wond'ring thought. Such was the man, who bad thy mother bear This fmall memorial to thy future care : From youth to age her grateful houfe be ferv'd, Nor from nrict Virtue's path a moment fwerv'd. - When life's dark winter, as it 'gan to lower, Blafted his fight, and bound up every power * Now wife of the Rey. Henry Rice, ( 111 ) For active good, yet many a lengthened day With meek content he fmil'd beneath its fwayj And ftill with kindeft thoughts his time beguil'd, And bleft the race, for whom he once had toil'ds^ Till ninety years being paft in meafure even, He fail'd with confcious triumph up to heaven.* * He had beerf blind for more than thirty years. Dr. Eger- ton brought him, when a boy, from the neighbourhood of his rectory at Settrington in York mire. In the latter part of his life he paid an annual vifit to the re- fidence of the author's father, where, notwithstanding his lofs of fight, he could walk alone both about the houfe and the. garden. - C H2. ) VERSES 0\N THE LATE UN ANIMOUS RESOLUTIONS TO SUPPORT THE CONSTITUTION. WRITTEN DEC. 19, 1792. Hark! 'tis the fhout of joy that meets my ear; And Concord's plaudits make the echoing fphere ! " Long live our glorious King!" And long may live The bleffed days that Law and Order give ! And may our children's children ftill enjoy The facred fence, that villains would deftroy y And ages hence in peace and plenty fmile Beneath the fhelter of the noble pile ! Mark how Sedition's clam'rous tongue is drown'd f Mark how his looks his fruftrate fchemes confound I Mark how the guilty Plunderer fcowls to find His golden virions vanifh'd like the wind! Mark how the Murderer grins, fince now no more He hopes to warn his favage hands in gore ! And Envy foul, and difappointed Pride In fallen gloom their dreams would vainly hide, O'er their Lords' necks with cruel taunts to ride! ( H3 ) O bail to Britons' generous hearts ! that brave All ftorms, the caufe of Liberty to fave ; But, ftill to Wifdom and to Order true, Licence and Anarchy with hate purfue ! O meliorated fcheme, that Time has drawn From man)' a ftrnggle paft, and peril gone; From Wifdom acting on the deeds enroll'd Of many a wondrous Sage, and Warrior bold! O Constitution, with more power endued To curb the Vicious and protect the Good, Than e'er the page of Hift'ry told before ! And fhall we prize your happinefs no more? — O civil Policy, whole power prefcribes Riches and fafety to Barbarian tribes; That from the woods the houfelefs wanderer calls To the fweet flicker of furrounding walls j From where, o'er fcanty and uncertain food, Naked and fhivering half their hours they brood; Or o'er drear wilds throughout the tedious day With endlefs toil purfue the needful prey; To the warm veftment; to the cheerful dome, Where fure of fafety each commands his home; Where Hill the l>read, that wholefome Toil may get, In peace his little tribe may round him eat ! O Policy ! not only fuch thy praife ! Mankind to higher blifs thou yet can'ft raife! I ( 114 ) To touch the heart, to feed th' ethereal flame, That feeks by polilh'd arts immortal fame; Manners to foften, foothe the maddening ftrife, And teach the fweet civilities of life, 'Tis thine, bleft Power! — and thii'e to fcatter round The ufeful fplendor, with which Wealth is crown'd ! Hence Labour finds employ; the Poor are fed; The induftrioLis Artift's board's with plenty fpread; Hence Commerce lifts her fails; and hence explores The world's wide circuit for its varied ftores ! Guarded by thee, fweet Policy, by thee ! The fruits that, borne o'er many a dangerous fea, Months of fad peril and long toil employ'd, In peace fecurely are at home enjoy'd; Guarded by thee, the Swain who tills the ground, In fafety fees his harveft ripen round; Nor o'er the fpoiis of lavage clans he weeps, But the fame feed he fows, himfelf he reaps ! Guard as thou art then, guarded may'ft thou be By future ages reiblute as we ! May JunHce wave her fword, if Faction rife, And (lop th' audacious Coward's treacherous lies! Woe be the day, that fees the Villain lead Deftruction's hell-hounds to the rueful deed, When all that's fair, and all that's wife, muft fall, Ana Wafte and Defolation cover all ! ( 115 ) Ne'er may I fee the hour! — but mould my doom Lengthen my life till fuch a conflict come, May the firft fword be pointed at my breaft, And in the quiet grave fecure my reft! r 2 _£_ _^ ( 116 > VERSES UPON ANCIENT MANSIONS.* Hail, ye bold turrets, and thou reverend Pile, That feem in Age's hoary veft to fmile! Thou noble Arch, thro' which the maiTy gate Opes to yon Hall in flow and folemn ftate, All-hail ! For here creative Fancy reads Of ages paft the long- forgotten deeds; Tales wrote in magic marks thy walls among, By Time's fwift current as it pafs'd along. Hail,, virtuous race! whofe Sires from age to age, The gay and grave, the Soldier and the Sage, Here, where you ftill in happy peace abide, Caught their firft breath, and here in quiet died! Yes here the bold Crufader from his toils Return'd t' enjoy his long-loft children's fmiles: Yon pietur'd window, where the doubtful light Buriting thro' mellow panes enchants the light, * Thefe were written for a friend, as part of the Preface of the fecond volume of the Topographer, and were accordingly published m that work. ( H7 ) Rais'd by his hand with Glory's honed flame, Shews the bold Crofs the emblem of his fame; That Grofs which ftill with fpirit undecay'd Againfl the cruel Spaniard was difplay'd, When Raleigh led his bands from fhore to more, New worlds with dauntltfs courage to explore. Yon old hereditary trees, that fpread Their rude luxuriant umbrage o'er your head, Their grateful fhade, two hundred fummers part, O'er the foft flumbers of your Fathers caft ! O ye wild delis, ye hills with beeches crown'd, Ye opening lawns, that ) r onder pales furroundj Within whofe circuit, flill alarm'd with fear, At every quivering leaf- fall, leaps the deer; And unreftrain'd by modern bounds, to find His ancient ranges (hoots before the wind! Ne'er may the Stranger, rais'd by lawlefs gain, Difturb the peaceful Lords of your domain, Pollute thefe haunts by cruel rapine won, And ope your haliow'd umbrage to the Sun! But the fame race, that blew the bugle horn Along thefe echoing woods, to cheer the morn, When the fourth Harry heard the lively call, And grac'd your lord in yonder feaftful Hall, May the fame virtuous race your echoes court, Purfuing ftill th' hereditary fport, ( 118 ) And roam in fummer funs, or reft, beneath Your lovely fhades, and catch your fragrant breath ; And, ftill in death the fame defires to keep, In yon low chapel with their fathers fleep ! ( 119 ) DESCRIPTION OF ELLEN ST. AUBYN. FROM AN UNFINISHED STORY. WRITTEN IN 1784. In Truth, (he was a wondrous beauteous dame, As e'er was founded by the trump of Fame! Slight was her form, and tall 5 her taper waift Was fhort; its circuit fmall a girdle grac'd ; And from her milkwhite garment's wavy flow, Her flender ancle fweetly (hone below : White her plump hands, and foft round-riling arms, Whofe blue meand'ring veins increas'd their charms; But more her opening bofom caught the fight; Firmly it fwell'd, and beam'd forth rapt delight; As polidi'd marble fmooth; as driv'n fuow 'twas white : And moil the blooming beauties of her face, Her cheek's foft rofes, and her forehead's grace; (This white as lilies; thofe of livelier hue Shone frem as in the fields, when dipt in dew;) ( 120 ) Her ivory teeth ; and chief, her foften'd eyes, Like Cynthia's beams, which gently light the fkies, With more than mortal blifs the gazer fill'd ; While her light auburn locks, that fweets diftill'd, Around her neck, and cheeks, and forehead play'd Luxuriant, and diffus'd a varied fhade, Whofe tints divine no painter e'er effay'd ! H-mmgmm ( m ) ELEGY, WRITTEN IN NOVEMBER 1782. TO MRS. LEFROY, OF ASH, IN HAMPSHIRE. Ere yet in Cam's dull walks and croaking fcbools, She faint beneath cold Reafon's chill embrace, My Fancy pants one favouring hour to rule, And weave a wreath my lifter's hair to grace. Sweet nightingale, fince I like thee with fong, While others fl umber, footh the night away, Oh ! give thy power to lead the heart along, Thro' the foft thrillings of the plaintive lay ! Then as I bid the fairy fabric rife, Of prattling Infancy again to view, My melting voice from every lift'ner's eyes, Shall call forth penfive Memory's pearly dew, — ( 122 ) For well, my Sifter, claim thofe boyifh days, The fofteft ftrain my feeble powers can give, And well doft thou deferve my warmeft lays, If any lay of mine may hope to live ! Twas then, if ever in this world of woes She deign'd to reft, that blifs indeed was mine, And then, if ever in my breaft it role, To light the flame of rapturous thought was thine! Ere yet my infant feet had ftrength to ftray, Dryads and Wood-nymphs caught me in their arms; "With them explor'd I every cave by day, And all their wildeft haunts, fecure from harms. By glimmering twilight, lift'ning to thy tale Of ghofts and goblins round the hearth we hung, And thought we heard their voice in every gale, And ftarted as the Fays the death-bell rung. With fome ftrange ftory, conftant as the night, By thy lov'd voice my frame to ileep was laid, When mimic Fancy rofe at Reafon's flight, And with redoubled force each fcene difplay'd. ( 123 ) But when thy footfteps led me to the Fane, Mid thickeft woods embower'd from vulgar eyes; (Where as they watch'd in dell and narrow lane, From their green beds the peeping Nymphs would rife,) That Fane where Poefy, refiftlefs dame, In melting Hate has plac'd her rofy throne, My' enchanted foul quick caught th' ethereal flame, And vow'd eternal love to her alone. Bleft be the hour, beyond all others bleft, That faw me captive in the fair one's arms, And every blefling crown my filter's breaft, Who taught my youth to prize her lafting charms ! * * This moft lovely, mod accomplished, and moft excellent woman, died by a fall from her horfe, in December 1804. L ( 124 ) EPISTLE TO A FRIEND, ON A VISIT IN LINCOLNSHIRE, AUGUST 9, 1784. ON THE PLEASURES OF VICISSITUDE.* ****** ! My Mufe, to thee, whom moft I prize. At Friend (hip's altar lights her facrifice. Thou dear companion of my early days, To thee from childhood was I wont to raife My voice, and fear thy blame, and love thy generous praife ! Tho' harmnefs in my rugged lines difpleafe, Yet mellowing time mail make them flow with eafe; For when the Fancy's flame, and force of thought, A deeper energy of foul have wrought, Then varied like my mind (hall pour along The itrong, yet tuneful current of my fong. ' * This Poem is an attempt to imitate the freedom, variety, and energy of Dryden's Rhythm. ( 125 ) But now when manhood fcarce has fining my nerves, When every power too oft to Pleafure fwervesj How mail I tell thee all I think and feel? E'en now I fee thee from the circle fleal, In fome lone fpot to feed thy reillefs foul, That fc6rns by vulgar barriers all controul ; And longs to fly to other worlds, and burfts beyond the goal ! But mortal powers, for flights fo daring weak, Muft foon defcend, and humbler pleafures feek: Some beauteous maiden now., (for Beauty eer Twin'd with my thoughts, in all will have its mare), I fee thee tending ; in her converfe fweet, For wearied powers to find a foft retreat ; With the fmooth cheek to feaft the raptur'd fight, To watch the beaming eyes with fond delight ; Be fometimes yours, and fometimes be it mine ! For that dear pleafure, I can ne'er refign. Viciffitude, oh lov'd Viciffitude, Thou bring'lt the foul with zefl for joy endu'dj- Thou giv'ft the rapture to the lonely hour, And to the focial, thou its kindling power ! E'en now from thought intent, and inward light. As burfts on yonder yellow fields my fight, With double joy the golden fcenes delight : ■Hi ( 126 ) The influence thine, more frefh the fcenes arife j Infpiring Autumn, with her gleaming ikies, And all her merry harveft-train, comes dancing to my eyes. And now perchance, as Fancy points, my friend, While his flow fteps thro' evening homeward bend, From gothic caflles, and majeltic walls, From gloomy gateways, and from echoing halls \ Spies fome warm cot, and owns thy influence there! What double raptures in his eyes appear, To find content, and Peace, and Mirth within Thofe little walls, fo low, fo weak, and thin ! Yes, lov'd Viciflitude, and e'er may he His tafte for pleafurc quicken'd find by thee ! From fecial intercourfe, and focial good, Seek the pure pleafures of the lonely wood} Thence plum'd his feathers, fly again to man, By practice ftrength'ning what his thought began ! In conftant pleafure if defire we fleep, The palled powers in dull flagnation fleep : E'en the dear idol, for whofe fancied joys We'd lofe the world, in full poffeflion cloys ! May I, (nor fmile, my friend, tho' varying fchemes Of life with me are tickle as my dreams,) May I, in life fome gently active part, Enough the joys to heighten of my heart, ( 12/ ) Choofe — Whether fleering in the toils of Law; Or wifhing filent Senate's ears to draw ! Whate'er my fate; in blifs, or in diftrefs, It' Power adorn me, or if Want deprefs ; Thee ftill my friend, (may heav'n but grant me thee Thro' life !) my anchor fhall I find to be! May I, thro' many a year's improving round, Whatever fortune mall thy willies bound, As firm, and faithful ftill to thee be found! Adieu! may Beauty's eyes, and foothing power Fill the fweet void of thy vacation hour! But mark the leilons of my thoughtful lyre, Think not, what pleafes now, will never tire 1 ( J28 > EPITAPH. FROM MARY DE CL1FFOKD, 1792. Here reft the bones of one, whofe ancient race Ages have feen in this fequefler'd place, Removd from courtly vice,, and vulgar lfrife, Lead the fweet tenor of their peaceful life. Not that, whene'er their country's good might call, Int'rett could check, or danger could appall 3 For oft in arms, acrofs the billowy main, Proud France has feen them on her conquer'd plain ; For Freedom check'd, or Royal Power enflav'd, Domeflic furies often have they brav'dj And often has the Britiih fenate rung With the bold thunder of their honeffc tongue I But foon to native fields they lov'd to fly, Where their own trees might o'er their flumbers %h There no vile paffions thro' the troubled day Drive Fancy, Charity, and Peace away, ( 129 ) Nor Folly's noife, nor Envy's haggard form Tear the vex'd bofom with perpetual ftorm. A cheerful courfe of lengthen'd life they kept, Then here in quiet with their fathers flept. ( 130 ) VERSES ON ANCESTRY, AND A COUNTRY LIFE. FROM MARY DE CLIFFORD. O ye, who in your ancient maniions dwell, On upland lawn, green plain, or quiet dell, Proud of your Fathers' glories! let not Guile From thofe fweet fcenes feduce Contentment's fmile ; Let Grandeur flam, and Orientation's eye Look, as it glances, for the envious flgh j Let Folly fpend, and Indian riches blaze, Scorn'd or unnoticed to your wifer gaze ! Long have black vices mark'd Ambition's road, While tortur'd Confcience haunts his falfe abode. — ■ Forth let them come from city and from town, In modilli manners boaft their brave renown, Vain of their prefent fplendour; while the pad 'Neath a dark veil of feign'd contempt is caft ! Ah ! fee the puny upftarts of a day, Rife to infuit, and flatter to betray ; ( 131 ) While ye, alas ! ye fooliih, and ye vain ! Leave your own pofts to pert and low difdain ! Oh wake, nor let the fpecious plea prevail, While the low villain boails the generous tale ; Scorn the proud icorner, let the long lov'd name Of your dead fathers holy reverence claim; Boaft how ihry Jed a life of cheerful eafe, Beneath their own hereditary trees; That far from all that's low and mean, and bred By rural Virtue, all their moments fled; Nor nurs'd in mobs, nor yet from Knavery's fchool, They ftemm'd thro' crimes and blood to wealth and rule! K 2 ( 132 ) DEDICATION TO A NOVEL, l/Qg. TO ******j A.M. OF HIS MAJESTY'S SHIP *******, OFF THE NILE. " Whence come thefe plaintive tones of difcontent, Thefe forrowing murmurs crofs the Ocean fent? Why, while on Victory's courfe I mount the prow, As my brave comrades the proud billows plough, For chearing notes of joy, why meets my ear Anger's hoarfe voice ? why flows Affliction's tear?" 'Tis thus, when firft the long-expe&ed fail To Nile's immortal banks (hall bear my tale, Friend of my youth, who fcorn'ft vile flattery's phrafe, I feem to hear reproach, inftead of praife ! But think, fince firft from boyifh trammels freed, On Cam's refounding banks, on Granta's mead, The jocund revels we were wont to lead, How many a grief has fpread its mournful hues O'er all my thoughts, and darken'd all my views ! ( 133 ) Then feem'd, as on my lyre the free notes rang, Fame's laurel chaplet in my reach to hang, And bright behind Futurity's pierc'd (hade Hope's airy figures in the funfhine play'd : Then hollow Friendfliip told the traded lie, And the tear mov'd in falfe Affe&ion's eye ; Then mad Philofophy conceal'd in fmiles, And veil'd with gaudy flowers, her future wiles, Nor yet had once, with diftant triumphs warm, Let drop the mafk that hid the demon's form ! But foon the fairy colours 'gan to fadej Hence the gay vefts which Folly's (hape array'd, Hence the loud fhouts of fenfelefs mirth, the roar Of Bacchanalian orgies, pleas'd no more : The crowded city's din ; the idiot rites, In which dull Fafhion's votary delights, Difgufted ; and to quiet vales I fled, Where winds might whifper mufic o'er my head. There, in the lap of languid eafe, I lay Many a long night and long inglorious day : No titles brightened my ignoble name, No riches lighted up my dying fame, No more the circle lift'ned as I fpoke, Attracted by fome wealthier fool's dull joke : But Pity, the mean coward's infult, fell To ring my vanifh'd honour s parting knell. ( 134 ) Yet, long uneafy in their a(hes kept, The fmould'ring fires of former efforts flept. At length I burft Sloth's ignominious chain, And wak'd the long-forgotten lyre again ! Then they, who once had triumph'd o'er my falL Stung with mad anger, nurs'd the riling gall, And Envy, Malice, Calumny, combin'd The deadly draught, to blaft my peace of mind! O ye, who ftill to faith and honour true, Amid retirement's fhades, (ye glorious few!) Cherilh my voice, my name, with growing love, And in the lowering temped kindeft prove, For you the Mufe a lafting wreath fhall weave, Of which no time your temples ihall bereave ! But ye, ye faithlefs, who in forrow's hour Shrank from the cloud, and fled the chilling fhower > Who thought, while yet I fail'd on Folly's fiream, Urg'd the light race, Ihot the gay chariot's gleam, Spread the rich banquet to a crowd of fools, And liv'd as one of Fortune's fenfual tools ; Who thought that wifdora iffued from my tongue, And boafted kindred as my praife ye fung ; Yet, fince the Mufe revives, and temperate days Nurfe my lone ftudies, far from fplendour's blaze, Who hear no eloquence, no fenfe difcern, But with cold cowardly averlion turn ; ( 135 ) Ye mean ! ye ftupid ! lofty fcorn will fpare The fate ye merit, and your names forbear ! — Then think, my friend, in what impervious clouds Black Care my melancholy profpe&s fhrouds, O'er fcenes, which genial funs in vain illume., Impends, and throws an univerfal gloom -, " Sheds browner horrors o'er the frowning woods. Deepens the murmurs of the winter floods */' And, chilling all the Mufe's boyifh fire, Bids none but plaintive notes efcape the lyre ! Think and forgive, nor let reproach again Pervade thy bofom at the mournful ftrain ! So (hall the friendfliip, which, with ray ferene, Has warm'd our breafts in every varying fcene Of life's tempeftuous ways, from earlier!; youth To the laft hour, retain its equal truth ! * Pope's Eloifa to Abelard, ver. 169, 170. ( 136 ) LINES, WRITTEN ON THE RECOLLECTION OF ****, HIS NATIVE PLACE, BY F.H. ESQ. 1792. FROM A KOVIL. (i Sweet native fpot! at thy long-cheiim'd name Again awakes the Mufe's dying flame : It wakes, and lights me to thy 'tangled ftiades, Thy groves umbrageous, and thy leaf-flrown glades; Thy hills, from whence the blue horizon round, With diftaut fpires, and towers, and feas, is crown'd; Thy glens, where, deep-retir'd, my childifh days Too oft were fpent in dreams of future praife !— All rife, and, colour d in thy fairy light, Are bodied forth before my ravinYd fight, Bright as when firft upon my tender mind The deep-hued forms of Nature were defign'd. — But, oh! my foul ! though bright each object's hue, Does Joy again falute thee at the view ? Have years departed, though they yet befpeak No filver hairs, no furrows on my cheeky ( is; ) Say, have they parr, nor left behind a fling, Regret's (harp poifon o'er their charms to fling?— Thou fpreading oak, beneath whofe branches dark My childhood wont fweet Nature's voice to mark ; To fee the golden orb at morning rife, And watch its crimfon fall with wiftful eyes; Why at thine image is my beating breaft With grief and penfive difcontent oppreft?— Ah! now hoarfe hollow murmurs meet my ear; And thus the deep reproach I feem to hear ! <( Why was thine infant mind each rural fight Form'd to receive, and tremble with delight? Why thus thy heart to beat, to thrill, to glow, And feel with keener anguifh ev'ry woe ? Oh why, while ftretch'd beneath my cov'ring fhade, Were forms aerial to thy view difplay'd ? Why did fuch vifions wild thy foul entrance, And fairy circles to thy fancy dance ? To wafte in refllefs indolence the day, Or feem 'mid Mirth's loud fons, while mournful, gay ? In courts to bow, in forums to difpute, 'Mid Folly's thoughtlefs talkers to be mute ? With fault'ring voice, and looks that fpeak the fool* Helplefs to fit, while Dulnefs gives the rule ? To rival country fquires, and city beaux, To feek the palm the chafe or courfe beflows ? ( 138 ) To vie with thofe, whofe hard unfeeling heart Can the lure pow'r of Victory impart? The paths of mawkifh Diffipation run ; To ride, to drive, to game — to be undone ? Ah, no ! Far other hopes thy youth defign'd ! To try the nobler contefts of the mind! The trembling motions of the heart to trace ; And catch the beauteous hues of Nature's face! Thy talent wafted, how wilt thou atone The flagrant crime before Heaven's awful throne ! Ere yet old Age upon thy fancy lours, Weakens thy hopes, and freezes all thy pow'rs, The flying moments feize; the path purfue That opes Fame's purer chaplets to thy view !" Enough, lov'd Tree ! Ah, now' the murmurs clofe ! The fhadowy branches hang in deep repofe ! Then once more, O ye boughs, whofe foothing gloom Can with frefh vigour imp the Mufe's plume, Cherim the dreams, that nYd my childifh brain, And bring a juft ambition back again! — ( 13 9 ) L I N E S WRITTEN IN THE CHARACTER OF THE HERO OF A NOVEL, 179S. "OHark! See Ruin enters! By his fide O view the gaunt relentlefs fiends that ride! See Peculation, and Perverted Law, And bloated Wealth, whom hounds of Murder draw; Extortion, mounted on the pamper'd fleed, Which the laft tears of ftarv'd Misfortune feed ; And black Malignity, all dreft in fmilesj And Avarice, fixiving to conceal his wiles: And yet an hundred harden'd imps behind, That feaft upon the forrows of Mankind ! Hark, they approach !-— -Ye fiends of Hell, away! — Dear native fields, ye mull not be their prey 1 Shades of my fathers, which the circling Sun, As twice three centuries his courfe he run, Has feen, in fafety, o'er the faithful head Of the fame race, your antient umbrage fpread! ( 140 ) Shall cruel hands pollute your dark retreats ? Shall Infamy defile your facred feats ? Ye lawns, on which my happy childhood play'dj Ye paths, where firll my infant footfleps ftray'dj Ye boughs, which firft I twilled into bowers; Ye primrofe banks, where firft I pick'd your flowers ; Your long-lov'd charms fhall foreign mailers own ? Shall foreign ears infult your flighted moan ? Along your lilent copfes, and your dells, Shall pufT'd-up Folly fhake her cap of bells ? In name of Tafte direct the axe's blow ? Laugh at your fhrieks, and lay your glories low ? Ye towers, that long have rais'd your heads fublime, Firm and unfhaken 'mid the florms of Time ! Ye halls, that oft with echoing founds have rung, When the rude minllrels tales of heroes fungj When Feafl, and Hofpitality, and roar Of Mirth went round, the genial goblet o'er; Where Hill the blazing hearth, at Chriltmas-tidc, The froft and fnow, and wind and rain, defy'dj And Eafe at loaded boards, the village crew, Still to their lord in clofer union drew I Ye rooms, where poets nurs'd their golden dreams; Where flatefmen fram'd their country's glorious fchemes j ( Mi ) Where wits their brilliant rays were wont to dart; And Beauty's radiant forms to melt the heart ! Shall the coarfe upftart wretch, who never knew A thought beyond the figur'd fpells, that drew The needy to Deftruction's net, difplay, Within your facred walls, a fcoundrel's prey; New fentiments; new modes of life unfold, Corrupt with luxury, andblaft with gold! — Great God of Mercy ! fince it is a crime, To end this wretched life before its timej If the dire fiends at yonder gate I view, Be not mad Fancy's forms, but fhapes too true, O now direct the pitying dart of Death, And in my native forefts clofe my breath !" ( U2 ) LINES EY A.F. ON THE TIMES. FROM A NOVEL, l?QS. Black (cowls the iky; defcends the drizzling rain; In mournful tones the hollow winds complain ; And over every fcene her fable wings The fombre goddefs Melancholy flings. My bofom catches the contagious woe; And fadnefs only from my lips will flow. Where are my youthful dreams, my joyous days, My name with honours crown'd, my head with bays- Fled,, like all virions! — Vaniih'd is the veil; And what a group behind of fpeclres pale, Grim-vifag'd ihapes, and grinning forms, appear! See broken-hearted Grief, and trembling Fear; And wan Neglect, and thivering Want, and Scorn, And black-brow'd, blood-ftain'd Malice; Shame forlorn ; And iron-fang'd Extortion; and mad Strife; Hold the fole fway o'er every path of life ! ( MS ) O whither mall I bend my aching eyes! Where fhall I find lefs frightful profpects rife! From fcenes of private forrow let me turn, The comforts of the public weal to learn ! There bankrupt nations; bleeding monarchs there 5 And famine end the people murders fpare — Cities laid low there civil difcord fcourge, And Ruin o'er the whole her ploughihare urge, Affrighted I behold ! — and fiialve with awe, As the dire daemons near and nearer draw ! — My Country, O my Country ! that, fublime, Haft borne thy head above the waves of time, Which, as they beat againft thy mighty mores, New bulwarks brought, in wifdom's added ftores! At length thy fate approaches : omens croak, And hollow founds portend the coming ftroke; Trembles the ground; and hideous birds of prey Crofs us by fits, and fhrieks of joy betray! — — Chiefs in command, who would outftand the ftorni, And call new props, and new defences form, Beware, ye though tlefs, how ye draw your aid From quarters, which, if weak and open laid, New breaches to the furious blaft will fhew, Till unfufpeded comes deftruclion's blow. Props of the ftate, your ancient gentry gone, By whom, in eafy cords of union drawn, ( iu ) A virtuous ufcful peafantry, content, Their toils induitrious to the public lent; From whom, the mind enlarg'd, the lofty foul, By birth and ftudy freed from bafe controul Of griping avarice, and felfifh gain, Rifes, a fenate's glory to maintain, What fhall the lofs fupply ? — From yonder feas, Mark the gay veffel drive before the breeze; See on the (hore the gorgeous Nabob land ; The wealthy cargo blackens all the ftrand ; — Oh mark! the fallow wretch, tho' drefs'd fo gay, Leaves prints of blood he cannot wafti away ! He comes to feed our wants, our lands to buy; Of making laws the labor to fupply; Gold palaces to build, and wide to throw The doors of feaft, and revelry, and (how; The narrow bounds of neighbourhood deftroy, And thro' a county fpread the general joy ! Nor yet contented: left Pro fu (ion pour Too deeply from th' incalculable ftore, Plutus * he re-invokes; and now to kings His loans of millions the fharp ufurer brings, * Late events will probably make the intelligent reader fmile at this. — But Avarice frequently defeats itfelf — 200,000 1. gained by a tingle fpeculation, added to poffeffions already amounting to 300,000 1. — and all funk in the fathomlefs abyfs of this demon ! Yet such things are / 23 Feb. 1 7£9. ( 145 ) Till what exhaufted India's fhrieking plain With- rapine, famine, and with blood to gain, Seem like light baubles, which his fcorn excite, To think they e'er could fill his appetite !■ — Then wakes the lute of Merriment again, And breathes feduction o'er the liftening plain j Then healthy Competence, and Labor ftrong, Lords of themfelves no more, admire the fongj And village-beauty, for the charms of drefs, Yields to the fwarthy wretch a loath'd carefs. The echoing hall, which pendant honours grace, For many an age the trophies of the chace, And prouder ftill, the mighty fpoils of war, Won in old days with many a glorious fear,. Defpis'd,. deferted, and the homely board, Which once could hofpitable joys afford, Scorn'd, till the generous heart, to fame a prey, Gpes all its veins, and bleeds its life away — The echoing hall, in many a fragment rude Wide o'er the weed-grown dreary vill is ftrew'dj And fields, that nurs'd heroic chiefs, and fed Full many a hardy foldier, whom they led, No more at induitry's or honor's call, Lifelefs to the all-grafping monfter fall ! — Then, proud, the new-fprung lord in bloated power O'er a whole county bids his palace tower, L While as its glittering heights aflfail the iky, Thro' the wide tracks, beneath its ken that lie> Nought but the vile hut of the lonely hind, Rude and half-cloth'd, the fearching eye can find. At length the bubble burfts : th' aerial pile, Built on the bafis of extorted toilj Of trade, where after all the peril o'er, Another comes, and feizes half the (lore, — ■ Sinks,— and the tight-drawn cord of union broke, Kingdoms mill headlong at a fingle ftroke! $ 147 > LINES «G THE MEMORY OF A DECEASED FRIEND* FROM A NOVEL, 1802?. Departed Spirit ! While the grave contains Within its chill embrace thy poor remains, Thou, if the groveling wanderers here below May aught of future fate prefume to know,. Pure, and by intellectual toils refin'd, The choirs of heavenly habitants haft join'd X Look downwards, and behold with pitying eye The ftrngglers in this vale of mifery! In ftrength unequal ftill behold thy friend With power unjuft, and perjur'd wealth contend O'er his tumultuous bEeaft thy influence fpread, And bring foft tlumbers to his reftlefs bed y With fortitude infpire him to withftand Terror's loud threat, Oppreffion's iron hand y And yet undaunted, where his caufe is true>. E'en in the face of Ruin, Right purfue t L2 ( 148 ) Perchance thou hear' ft him notj — thou may'fl not hear! Alone, unaided, I am doom'd to bear The worldly trial ! Holy Shade, adieu! Be mine to drefs thy grave with garlands newj And oft the turf to moifien with my tears; "While frefh thy once-lov'd form again appears, And thy foft voice feems, waken'd from the tomb,. To footh with Wifdom's lore my mournful doom I • ( 149 ) LINE 5 WRITTEN IN THE CHARACTER OF THE HERO O^ A NOVEL, 1802. In this £1111 vale, where o'er my deep repofe The murmuring wind its drowfy rnuiic blows ; Where thro' the day my half-clos'd eyelids view Forms flit before them of enchanted hue, Which yet unheeded on my lazy mind, Pafs like a cloud, and leave no track behind ; At friendmip's call I flill my voice muft raife, Sieze the negle&ed pen, and tune my lays ! But where's the fire, that bade my boyifn bread, Till Fame's high hill was mounted, never reft? Feebly it burns, tho' Age's vapoury cloud Has not begun its dying fires to fliroud ; Nor yet the tottering pace, the hoary hair, The wither'd current of my blood declare. Over its mounting heat Difgufl has fhed Cold drops of poifon, and the blaze is fled; And Difappointment touch'd it, and it fhrunk; And Grief's pale clouds o'erfhadow'd, and it funk! ( 150 ) "By foes fo numerous prefs'd, ah, when again Will its gay fpirit prompt th' impaflion'd drain ? Perchance, O never !— But the awful clofe Of life will bring me to the grave's repofe, And ftill this trembling Heart, and veil thefe eyes, From whence too oft the flafh of Anger flies, Ere Hope once more the chearful hours illume ; Or Fancy once again difpel the gloom ! Bat e'en amid thefe chilling damps I crave One fprig of laurel for my early grave! Still I afpire not quite unknown to die, While Friendfhip's aid fhall partial tears fupply. Thefe idle lays then, which the vacant hour Can by a feeble half-fram'd effort pour, Wilt thou, receive, my Henry 5 nor require Where Grief incumbent fits, the Mufe's fire? But, hark ! the lulling murmur of the blaft. That footh'd my fancy's languid dreams, is paft! Loud was that fhriek, that came acrofs the grove ! See, how the forefl's trembling honours move ! Halte ! let me feek old Ocean's foamy fhore j And liften to the big wave's gathering roar! O, how I love the fighting billows' roll ; How the loud tumult fuits my troubled foul ! I feem once more my wonted fire to gain; And without effort comes the impaffion'd {train ! ( 151 ) On the tall cliff's tremendous verge. I lie, And watch the clashing waves that threat the fky j "While from afar I trace the fwelling furge, Near and more near the wat'ry mountain urge; Till forc'd againft the oppofing land, that quakes E'en to its very inmoft bafe, it breaks ; And with a found, that feems to make the world, Thro' air, earth, fea, the wat'ry mafs is hurl'd. Thefe are the mighty fcenes my fpirit loves: I hate the peaceful glen, the murmuring groves! The ftockdoves plaintive note, the nightingale, That to the happy lover tells her tale, Suit not the chaos of a ftormy breaft, Whom injuries have wrong'd, and woes opprefl ! Afk you, my friend, then, when delights like thefe My wounded foul no longer finds to pleafe, What foothes me next ? To fee thro' gloomy night The forked lightning dart its fiery light ! Or in fome rocking tower the temped brave; And hear the land-ftorm thro' the foreft rave; While the wan Moon, that darknefs long enfhrouds, Breaking by fits from out the driving clouds, Difplays the tolling waters of the lake, That lafh its mores, and all its boundaries make ! Then, as at length, the rifing waves o'erleap The yielding banks, and pour down every fteep, ( 152 ) I hear the roaring tumult, and behold Thro' woods and plains the foaming torrent roll'd, And as each ray the fpreading wreck reveals, A gloomy joy my grief-torn bofom feels* ! And doft thou blame me, Henry f Let not Eafe 'Taunt him, whom Sorrows and Misfortunes feize! O ye, who down the ftream of pleafure ride, Wafted with filken fails along the tide; Whom no winds agitate, no dangers try. Judge not, ye vain, the child of Mifery ! Him wilder joys for nobler efforts form 5 In danger moll to fhine, and glory in the ftorm! * See an extraordinary coincidence of fentrments, and al- moft of exprcffion?, in parts of this poem, with fome pafiages in p. 97 of Dr. Currie's moft interesting and excellent Life of Burns, which the author never faw till (22 June isoi) two days before this fheet was fent him to correct from the prefsj having before only feen the extracts from that delightul pub- lication, which were inferted in the Reviews. ( 153 ) A POETICAL FRAGMENT ON A DESERTED MANSION, THE SUPPOSED PLACE OF NATIVITY OF THE PERSON IN WHOSE CHARACTER IT IS WRITTEN. Ah ! poor deferted folitary dome ! Thou waft, tho' now fo dreary, once my home! From thefe lov'd windows was I wont to mark The fwain at noontide crofs the chcarful park$ And oft as penfive eve began to draw O'er the fweet fcene her fhadowy veil, I faw The weary woodman thro' the twilight pace, His hearth's domeftic circle to embrace ! Unnoticed now his mournful path he treads j No cafual ray thy gloomy window fheds; From thy chill halls no clouds of fmoke appears No found of human habitant is here. The angry fpirits of the wind alone Shriek thro' thy rooms and 'mid thy turrets groan 3 While the poor villager, who wont to flay, And near this fpot to linger on his way, ( 154 ) TSTow pafTes fearful on, nor looks around, Starts at each bough ; and quakes at every found I With trembling footsteps I approach thy gates; The marly door upon the hinges grates; Hark ! as it opens, what an hollow groan 'Crofs the dark hall and down the aides is thrown! Still as each lov'd apartment I explore, The ghofts glide by of joys that are no more ; Cold tremors feize my frame, and to my heart Defpair's chill ihafts in clouds of forrow dartl O where are all the crew, whofe focial powers Speeded beneath thefe roofs my youthful hours'. Some near yon fane, beneath the turfy mound, From worldly cares have early quiet found; Wide o'er the globe difperfed the reft are teen; Vaft lands extend, deep oceans roll between. Some in the burning funs of Ana toil I'o win deceitful Fortune's gaudy fmile j Some in the battle's perils fpend their breath, And grafp at honour in the arms of death ; On Egypt's fandy plains, or 'mid the crew Of mad rebellion ftill their courfe purfuej Some to the gentler arts of peace apply, Or with the gown's or fenate's labours vie; Watch with the moon thro' midnight's tranquil hour, Learning's exhauftlefs volumes to explore j ( 155 ) =Or paint bright Fancy's (hadowy fliapes, which throng Before the raptured fight, in living fong, While fondly as the fairy firucture grows With hope of endlefs fame the bofom glows. But where are they, whofe fofter forms difplayM Beauty in all the charms of youth array'd ? Which firft the breaft with love's emotion fill'd, And with new joys the dove-wing'd moments thrill'd? Here glimmer'd firft, amid a thoufand wiles, Thro' the deep blum, affection's purple fmilesj In murmurs died the voices melting tone, And the heart throbb'd with foftnefs yet unknown. On yonder lawn, in yonder tangled made, Till twilight ftole upon our joys, we played; Danced on the green, or with affected race Purfued thro' winding walks the wanton chafe; Or fat on banks of flowers, and told fome tale Where haplefs lovers o'er their fate bewail j Or bad foft echo from her moffy feat The floating mufic of their fongs repeat! Ye dear companions of my boyith days, Fair idols of my vows and of my lays, O whither are ye gone ? what varied fate Has heaven decreed your riper years to wait ? , The bloom of youth no longer paints your cheeks j In your foft eyes gay hope no longer fpeaks; ( 156 ) 'Bright as the hyacinthine rays of Morn Your cheeks no more the auburn locks adorn! Some in the difiant fhades of privacy "With watchful looks a mother's care fupply ; •Some in the realms of fafhion feed their pride, Wafted on diffipation's vapoury tide : And fome alas ! ere yet the filver hair And tottering footfteps warn'd them to prepare, Of life's vain courfe have clofed the fickle race, And fudden funk in chilling death's embrace ! But happy they, who, in the quiet grave, The world's relentlefs ftorms no more muft brave; For here no more had childhood's pure delights iBlefs'd their fweet days, and hover'd o'er their nights; Here cruel fate had early clofed the door, That opens to the voice of joy no more; And ftill, where'er the wretched exiles ftray'd, Black Care had gloom'd their fteps, and Fraud betray'd; And Envy fcowl'd upon their faireft deeds; And Calumny, that curfed fiend, who feeds With moll delight on thofe, who moft afpire To win pure fame by virtue's holier! fire, Had damp'd the ardor of the generous bread, And glory's kindling vi (ions had fuppreft !— ( 157 ) The grave contains them now : beneath a heap Of mouldering turf in filent reft they ileep, Till the dread day when founds the trump of fate, And all with trembling. hope their doom muft wait*. O ye deep fhadowy walks ; ye foreft-dells, Where folitude with inmoft myftery dwells! Again I hail you! From the leaf ftrown earth Virions of happy infancy fpring forth At every ftep I tread j and to my heart A momentary ray of joy impart : But ah ! how foon, with prefent ills combin'd, The dreadful contrail ftrikes the wounded mind ! The clock that fent its undulating founds With deep ton'd ftroke thro' all your diftant bounds From yonder lofty tower, is filent now j Silent the horn, that on yon airy brow, Blew its thrill notes thro' all your calm retreats, And rous'd the Nymphs and Dryads from their feats t, . And call'd fweet Echo, bidding her prolong Thro' hill and grove and vale the chearful long.; Still is the breath of him who wak'd the horn ; The mafter's tongue, who did thefe fcenes adorn^ Is filent in the duftj no more his voice Bids the deep coverts of your woods rejoice; No more the ruftics' grateful breafts he chears, Nor wipes from Poverty her bitter tears j ( 158 ) No more around hurt draws the eager cry Of prattling childhood, to attract his eye, From whence the rays of love and kindnefs fly? No more his lips pronounce the awful tone Of wifdom, and inrtru£t the bad to moan Their guilty courfe; and virtue ftill to bear The load of life with fortitude and prayer! Beneath the pavement of yon humble fane Low in the earth his mouldering bones remain. Mem'ry fhall o'er the fpot her vigils keep, And Friendship and AfTedtion long fhall weep y And he, who now attempts, in fimple lays, His honour'd fame fo weakly to emblaze, Shall never ceafe, till life its current frays, To love, to fpeak, to view with idol eyes, His merits kindling as they upward rife ! O what a fudden gloom, invefts the heaven ! Black clouds acrofs the fair expanfe are driven:- No found is heard ; fave where a cafual breeze Shakes off the ruffling leaves from faded trees. Hark ! what a gull was that ! a fearful moan; Along the dark'ning forett feems to groan. Ye holy fpirits of my buried fires, Still e'en in death furvive your wonted fires ? Still hovering round your once lov'd earthly walks.,. Is it your voice that in the breezes talks.}. ( 159 ) To him who fighs o'er all your glories gone* Who weeps your fcatter'd grove, your ruin'd lawn j Who views with burfting heart your falling towers, And fills with loud lament your ravag'd bowers 5 To him, perchance your guardian cares extend j O'er him perchance with favouring voice ye bend! O hear me, fainted beings of the air, One fign, ye fmile upon my efforts, fpare! That guft again! louder it feem'd to move, Ruining acrofs the center of the grove h Sure 'tis the fignal that ye come at lad To calm my breaft, and foothe my forrows pafts For long Misfortune's baleful hand has fpread Her iron tortures round my luckiefs head. Ca.tera defunt. ( 160 ) To Miss L. L. of I— JZ>.* ©N THE AUTHOR'S DEPARTURE, 26. JUNE, 1/83, Thou fweet gentle maiden, ere yet I depart, Wilt thou hear the fond feelings, that rife in my heart ? Wilt thou hear me, by ail that is holy, declare That no time from my memory thine image fhall wear ? No : when I forget thee, may Fancy expire, And mine awkward hands fail to command the foffc lyre ! Ah, Lucy! Say wilt thou be pleas'd with thefe vows, From a youth on whom Fortune nobleffings beftows? {from a poor fimple youth, for the world much too fliy, Who from notice of great ones, and rich ones doth fly; • Firit published in Gent, Mag. Jan. 1284. ( 161 ) Who mines not in circles, nor buttle enjoys, But loves the far valley, remote from all noife? Ah, wilt thou above the vain (hew and parade, Whofe dazzle too often thy fex has betray'd, Of a fond faithful lover not fcornfully deem, Who has nought but his lyre to engage thy efteem? Ah, Lucy! I've thought, bat perhaps I was wrong, When I prefs'd thy foft hand, (and the pleafure no tongue Can e'en faintly defcribe, that then thrill'd thro' my frame) I have thought that thou didft not my happinefs blame ! When I've gaz'd on thy face, (and Heav'n knows I have gaz'd, Till the tears of delight I fcarce hid, that it rais'd) I have thought, but perhaps I'm deceiv'd, that the love, Which my eyes ill concealed, thou didft not reprove! Ah, me ! the fad moment of parting is near, When thefe exquifite joys I no longer may fhare j When no more I with thee the fwift hours may be- guile, And hear thy fweet converfe, and blefs thy foft fmile; When no more thy dear arm upon mine e'er will lean, As we homeward return by the mild light of E'en -, M ( 162 ) When no more I may have the enjoyment divine, To fit for whole hours with thy hand within mine ! Ah, fay, deareft Lucy ! from thee when I go, What pleafure, that's equal to thefe, fhall I know ? — I mult fly to thick fhadesj and there wander alone, And brood on the thoughts of delights that are gone ! ( ■!« ) DIRGE, 1783. The preceding lines having been faid to be the production of a fictitious perfon, this Dirge was written upon his fup- pofed death. Ye Virgins, come, meet round his tomb, And fcatter wild flowers on the ground j O footh, with a tear for his doom, His fpirit, that hovers around I II. Oft he faid, that with pleafure he'd die, From your eyes if 'twould gain him a tear j And furely ye will not deny, Now he's gone, fuch a due to his bier ! III. Come, " Peace to his afties," invoke, For to fing of your charms was his pride! His heart was fo tender, it broke; And he blefi'd you, for you tho' he died 1 M 2 ( 164 ) IV. By yon little fpire, from the glade Peeping forth, where he oft was infpir'd, His pale bones in quiet are laid, From the world's evil haunts far retir'd ! V. Yes, quiet he lov'd, while on earth j From all tumult and noife he would fly : May no worldling with unhallow'd mirth Approach where his afhes do lie I VI. Sweet Virtue with fondnefs he priz'd, From her paths tho' he fometimes might ftrayj Yet Vice from his foul he defpifedj And his mind was as pure as the day. VII. Ye Maids of the village, draw near; O drop a foft tear on the ground ! And Friendship, foft Friendship, appear j And, Fairies, come gather around I ( 1«5 ) VIII. Ye Maids, and ye Friends, in the light, From infult protect his cold grave ! And, ye Fairies, from harms of the night, O lend your affirmance to fave! ( l« ) THE GAMEKEEPER'S RETURN AT NIGHT. WRITTEN IN 1802. Thro* the long morning have I toil'd O'er heath and lonely wood, And crofs the dark untrodden -glen, The fearful game purfu'd : But deeper now the gathering clouds Colled along the iky, And, faint and weary, warn my fteps Their homeward courfe to hie. II. And now the driving mill withdraws Her grey and vapoury veil 5 I mark again the facred tower I paffed in yonder dais : ( 16 7 ) A little while and I fhall gain Yon hill's laborious height; And then perhaps my humble cot Will chear my grateful light ! III. Ah now I fee the fmoke afcend From forth the glimmering thatch j Now my heart beats at every ftep ; And now I lift the latch; Now ftarting from my blazing hearth My little children bound, And loud with Ihrill and clamorous joy Their happy lire furround. IV. How fweet when night firft wraps the world Beneath her fable veft, To lit beiide the crackling lire, With weary limbs at reft ; And think on all the labours paft That morn's bright hours employ 'd; While all, that toil and danger feem'd, Is now at home enjoy'd. "■■■ ( 168 > V. The wild and fearful diftant fcene, Lone covert, whiftling ilorm, Seem now in memory's mellowing eye To wear a fofter form} And while my wand'rings I defcribe^ As froths the nut-brown ale, My dame and little lift'ning tribe With wonder hear the tale ! VI. Then foft enchanting flu-mbers calm My heavy eyelids clofe, And on my humble bed I fink To moft profound repofe j Save that by fits the fcenes of day Come glancing on my fight, And, touch'd by fancy's magic wand, Seem vifions of delight ! ( 1^9 ) VERSES FROM A NOVEL, 1802. I. Now mournfully whittles the wind o'er the grove, And the leaves grown all yellow fubmit totheblafl; Ah ! fee on the lawn how in eddies they move! Half the fhades of the foreft already are caft. II. Clouds dark and deprefling inveft all the fky, And by fits crofs the vale do the drizzling rains drivej In vain then to check from my bofom the figh, In vain from my tongue the complaint, mall I ftrivel III. Negle&ed, traduc'd, and to malice a prey, I bow to the fullen dominion of grief, And tho' long I could charm the dire tyrant away, Oblivion alone can now give me relief. ( i/o ) IV. My days, my fhort days, tho' my youth is not fled, ■ Already too furely I feel on the wane ; And, ere yet the grey hairs round my temples hav« fpread, Forgot in the grave will my afties have lain ! ( W ) ELLEN ST. AUBUST. A FRAGMENT OF A POETICAL ROMANCE, In Richard's days, when many a war-worn knight. From blood-ftain'd fields of battles loft and won, Where Europe's troops, array'd in armour bright, Unfurl'd the banner'd crofs before the fun, Weary return'd, their race of glory run, The remnant of their days to fpend at laft In thofe calm manfions where their lives begun ^ Where they might mufe upon their perils pari:, And on the gloom of age foft fmiles their children ca% II. Amid the throng St. Aubin's Baron came, A man, whofe generous heart and valiant hand In Salem's fields had gain'd immortal fame : Two years had gone, lince firft he led his band ( m ) From Cantia's vallies to the hallow'd land, Stain'd by the infidel's unholy crew -, And left his lovely child's careffes bland j His weeping wife's belov'd embraces flew, Mid war on diftant plains to feek for danger new. III. Forth with the peer a neighb'ring chieftain's heir, Young Edmund, who had long for action pin'd, Sallied, the darts of glorious death to dare, And laurels round his boyifh brow to bind. A youth he was of truly noble mind, Which in a form as noble was encas'd ; Bold as the lion, though as Pity kind j Oft in his fancy he the foe had chas'd, Then in his early dreams the goddefs Fame embrac'd. IV. Soon as the long array began to move, Joy in his mien, impatience in his eye, Long his triumphant looks to hide he ftrove : Yet when the beauteous Ellens form came nigh, ( 173 ) Ellen,, St. Aubin's only hope, the figh Rofe from his inmoft heart; the long farewell The trickling tears could only now fupply : Nor dar'd he on futurity to dwell, Nor could the rifing thoughts of paft enjoyments quell. Sweet days, how blifsful, did they know their blifs \ The days of childhood paft in pure delight j Th' unfeigned fmile, the unimpaffion'd kifs, The tear that every toy can put to flight, The carelefs day, and the unruffled night! Can ever Edmund, by the battle's fpoils, The lofs of genuine joys like thefe requite? Where is the palm that equals Ellen's fmiles ? Ah ! where is the reward that thus repays his toils ? VI. Yet e'en in Ellen's fmiles of late infus'd A little bitter ting'd the cup of joy; For on her form no more at eafe he mus'd, Nor with her lily hand could fafely toy 1 ( 174 ) When abfent, flill her image would employ His-reftlefs fancy — — — — — * VII. Nor could the prieft, a proud and gloomy foul, Who in the neighbouring abbey dwelt at eafe, Who oft in vain had ftriven to controul The fallies that a lively fpirit feize, The wanton raptures of the boy appeafe : Nor could the youth conceal th' indignant rage Of generous anger, when the prieft, to teaze The fweet effufions of a tender age, The dear enchantment chill'd with taunts and maxims fage. VIII. Glad had the holy father feen him go; And though with outward pomp and formal prayer He fought of Heaven its bleflings to beftow, And make the gallant youth its chofen care, * An unfinished ftanza. ( 175 ) Deep in his heart the inward hate he bare; And while he alk'd aloud that he the wreath Of future glorious victories might wear, His kindeft with was, he might clofe his breath In diftant eaftern fields by honourable death. IX. Many a fell danger, many an onfet fierce Had the bold chief endur'd with dauntlefs mind: Yet ftill affection's anxious cares would pierce His inmofl. heart for thofe he left behind. Nor had th' array and din of war confm'd His bufy thoughts to Aria's crowded plains ! For his dear nuptial partner oft he pin'd; Oft in his fancy's eye his daughter reigns; And oft with tears his cheeks her rifing image flains. X. •• O Heaven," he pray'd, "protect my faithful wife, While now I fight with thy Barbarian foes ! Prolong her virtuous and inflructive life To foothe my little Ellen's childilh woes; ( 176 ) To nourifh every virtuous thought that grows In her young bofom, and to guard her heart From the vile hidden thorns that interpofe Too oft in outward flowers their cruel dart. And wounds, no future balm can e*er remove, impart!' xr. But Heaven or heard not, or Heaven thought not fit To grant the fond requeft : the mother died ) As the Ian: pangs forewarn'd her, (he muft quit Her lovely charge, "My deareft child," me cried, *' I go commanded hence j and be thy pride To mew thy mother's cares have not been vain! Let tendered duty all thy actions guide ; And when Heaven's mercy o'er the fearful main Sears thy lov'd father fafe, his drooping age fuftaiii t XII. The mournful tidings many a weary day, And many a tedious month were paffing flow; Ere yet to end his doubts they found their way, And ftruck a fatal, e'en though lingering blow. ( 177 ) She, who, his hopes had whifpefd, would befiow The crown on all his toils, in filent reft Was with the dwellers of the grave laid low ; And all the dreams of future joys, that bleft ■His fanguine fancy, fled from his defponding breaft. XIII. i But time, and bufy fcenes began to calm His bofom's waves : Affection fond the form Of his fweet child recall'd, to pour a balm Into his wounds, and once again to warm ;His hopes, o'erwhelm'd in Sorrow's chilly ftorm : And when at length, with wreaths of glory bound, Weary he left the tented field's alarm, To feek for reft on Europe's diftant ground, New hopes in Ellen's fmiles his riling fancy found. XIV. Now fafely landed on his native more, Many a long mile the penfive Baron pae'd, And now o'er diftant well-known hills once more His caftles glittering towers he faintly trae'd: N ( 178 ) Joy at the fight and Fear alternate chas'd Each other through his palpitating breaft : Now gay in youth a daughter he embrac'd; And now, as boding glooms his mind oppreft, His child a lifelefs corfe his longing arms careft. XV. Bolder the turrets rear'd their frowning height, And more diftin6t the crofs-fign'd flag difplay'd Its flapping ftreamers to the approaching fight: With beating hearts his little train, array 'd In order due, each tedious Hep upbraid; Till now arriv'd within its inmort bound The very courts their happy Heps invade; The horfe's hoofs upon the drawbridge found, And the loud trumpet brays the mighty walls around. XVI. Forth fallies from the hall the beauteous maid., And trembling kneels before her father's feet ; Her dreaming eyes her tender joy betray 'd, And her tongue faulter'd, and refus'd to greet ( 179 ) Her long-loft parent : but her lips repeat The holy kifs, as, in his arms embrac'd, The weeping Baron's dear careffes meet Fondnefs unfeign'd, and all the raptures chafte Of pure unmingled love a lire and daughter tafte. XVII. Now rings the hall with feftive rights infpir'dj Down the long tables, rang'd on every fide. The war-worn crew, with new fprung fpirit fir' d, Their cares and toils and dangers paft deride j And still as they repeat their travels wide To lift'ning trains who greet their glad return. They long again to ftem the fpreading tide Of mighty oceans, and again they burn In diftant eaftern climes th' aflailing foe to turn. XVIII. High at the top the lovely Ellen fits, While her glad father with uncheck'd delight Hangs on her tender fmiles, and oft by fits As the bold youth indulge their raptur'd fight, • N 2 ( iso ) Temper' d by diftance, at the glances bright Of her illumin'd face, her idol-form Sinks in their hearts, and e'en her looks requite The perils of the battle, and the ftorm; Then wonder, love, and awe at once their bofoms warm. XIX. Night came j and (oil of body and of mind, And fpirits with a thonfand feelings worn, The Baron's aged frame had foon confign'd To {lumbers deep and found j but ere the morn Had climb' d the iky, he wak'd ; and all forlorn In that lov'd bed the partner of his days Was wont to prefs, he found his bofom torn With pangs reviv'd, which keener tortures raife ; And Grief's new-covered fires with double fury blaze. XX. His daughter's foothing voice, and fweet carefs Could ill his agonizing forrow quell, Though much he ftrove their tumults to reprcfs, And veil in fmiles the trickling tears which fell ( 181 ) Adown his furrow'd cheeks, and fpoke fo well What rankling wounds affection's breaft can fling! How vain the attempt to charm the folemn knell, That ftill in Love's immerfed ear will ring, E'en though a deareft child her foft enchantment bring? XXI. Yet (till, as glided peaceful days along, A calm began to deal upon his heart j At Ellen's youthful wiles, at Ellen's fong A ray of cheerful light was feen to dart Acrofs his gloomy looks, and thence impart Balm to his thoughts, and from his feeble frame Drive by degrees Regret's confuming fmartj Of thrilling joy to fpread the tender flame; And back to earthly fcenes his far-fled hopes reclaim. XXII. Lovelier each hour the blooming maiden grew 3 Her form with more luxuriant beauty glow'd j Her foft cheeks wore a more enchanting hue ; Nor had ft thou, Nature, though thy bounty iliow'd ( 182 ) An outward fhape fo perfect, lefs beftow'd In the full gifts of her accompliih'd mind; There melting Sentiment had found abode ; There Fancy's rich creations were defign'd j There mimic Memory kept her brilliant forms enfhrind. XXIII. O'er his dear charge the rapt St. Aubin hung, Witn love the Mufe herfelf can ill exprefs; Each morn, in hatte impatiently he fprung With Ellen's fmiles his longing fight to blefsj. Each morn within his fond embrace to prefs Her, who on earth was now his only care; Whofe form ador'd e'en if with rude carefs The airs of Heaven mould vifit, he his prayer With tears would upward urge his idol child to fpare ! !— C&iera dejimt. ( 183 ) ELEGY, tJlOM A NOVEL, 1803. That ftrain was true; and Fancy has the power To ftrew with rofes life's entangled ways : She to the poet's eye at midnight hour On his lone couch can winning Beauty raifel E'en now I wak'd from blifsful moments fraught With vifions, which I hail'd in tumults toft; Kils'd the lov'd obje£t, breath'd the tender thought, And gaz'd in rapture, till my fight was loft. But ah! how foon the envious dawn of day Scatters the fweet creation into air; And leaves the mourner by the foothing lay The dreary hours of reftlefs light to wear; ( 184 ) To weep his portion of unmixed grief, For vanifh'd hopes, and real woes to figh 5 In falfe companions fearch for vain relief, And meet with pangs, where'er his footfteps fiy ! If this is life, O may the quiet grave To his worn bofom bring a long repofe; For little longer can it firmly brave The florm, that in each gathering conflict grows. Ah j fare! he feels that foon his weary frame Will find a calm beneath its parent earth, Where vainly Malice will infult his name, While Friendmip fan6tifies his humble worth. But whofe the tears that will embalm his fhriner Will the fweet maiden, whofe ingenuous eyes Full oft have fhone with pity's beams divine, Weep, that in early youth her favourite dies } For Ihe is foft, as is the vernal rofe When full its bofom is of morning dew; And her dear fnowy bread with kindnefs glows, Sweet as the flowers that Summer's pathwayftrew. ( 185 ) E'en now his thoughts on her with rapture dwell, Gaze on her trembling form, her blufhing cheek j And her lov'd beauties to the breezes tellj Thofe charms the confcious breezes will not fpeak: To her he breathes his fighs ; to her he talks, And 'mid the quiet of furrounding fhades Revels at eafe with her in lonely walks, Where ne'er the world's intrufive eye invades. Yes; fuch is Fancy's pow'r; me lifts her wand, And all around us fairy virions play : Nor muft we blame her, if at her command Life's gloom is gilded by a tranfietit ray. ( 185 ) LINES On the figure of a "Warrior, drefled in Feudal Armour, hia fhield adorned with an ancient heraldric coat; a Baronial castle in the back ground, on the higheft tower of which is difplayed a banner, bearing the fame infigniaj drawn and prefented to the Author by the Rev. C. W.* So ftione th' heroic chief in days of old; Fierce was his mien ; his limbs of giant mould; Beneath the load of cumbrous armour light, Active he bounded o th' infuriate fight; Broad was his fhiei with bold device impreft, And on his helmet frown'd the grimly creft: Yon moated caftle's mafly walls uprofe To frown defiance on his vaflals' foes; * One, who after one and thirty years of uninterrupted friend- fhip, and after having buffeted with the rage of the yellow fever in the Atlantic, and having afterwards vifited all the fhores of the Mediterranean, and witneffed the horrors and the glories of the tremendous night, which was illuminated by the battle of the Nile, is returned fafe to form one of the few props and com- forts of the author's life* ( 187 ) And o'er that fhadowy foreft's wide domains, O'er thefe blue hills, and thofe extended plains, O'er many a fcatter'd vill, and many a town, He rul'd by right, by favour, or renown. Ferocious days, and days of wild alarm, Yet chear'd by many a joy, and many a charm, Which thefe degenerate times have loft. — For Power Dwelt with the chief, who own'd the Feudal Tower ! Lord of the generous arts, that win command, By noble counfel, or by valorous hand, He knew no rivals in the dastard knaves, Who fpring to wealth from Lucre's bafe-born flaves $ Who gain rich lands, and feed luxurious boards, By the vile modes, which groveling Trade affords ! Perchance fome Knight of more adventrous name His spirit's generous envy might enflame, One, on whofe breaft with more resplendent fire Beam'd the red crofs, or growi'd the lion's ire ; Who rode with ftatelier grace the prancing horfe, Or couch'd his quivering lance with mightier force! E'en tho ? his heaving bofom fweli'd with pain, Afpiring wreaths of equal worth to gain, Still in the grateful ftrife was glory mix'd, And Virtue's wifhes in his heart were fix'd : No wealthy fon of Commerce bade him hide Before fuperior pomp his lessen'd pride,, ( iss ) Nor call'd him with infulting fneers to vie In the mean race of arts he icorn'd to try : Honour and rank and wealth he faw await Toils of the wife., and actions of the great 5 Nor mark'd, where'er before his aching eyes Halls, manfions, caftles, palaces, arife, Wretches ufurp them, who in darkfome cells Won their bafe fpoils by Traffic's hated fpells ! Rude was the pile, that from th' impending brow Gf fome fleep rock upon the wave below Oft look'd with fearful grandeur; loud the blast Rav'd on its walls, and thro' its turrets part; Chill were its fanlefs rooms, and drear the aisles Along whofe length the night-breeze told her tales ; Maffive the walls, thro' which the genial day Strove with warm breath in vain to win its way : But jocund was its hall; and gay the feaft That fpoke the genuine gladness of the breaft, - When rang'd its hofpitable boards along, The warlike bands renew'd th' heroic fong; Or told wild-tales, or drank with greedy ear Romantic ditties which the Minftrel-Seer Tun'd to his harp, while, as with bolder fire He threw his rapturd hand acrofs the wire, With vifions of new glory beam'd each eye, And loud the gathering chorus role on high; ( r*9 ) Till fnook the rafter'd roof, and every bound Of the wide caitle trembled with the found. Rough were the fcenes, as was the mailer's mind, Which Nature, bordering on th' abode, defign'd; Forefls of age untold, whofe unpierc'd wood Ne'er to the labourer's echoing axe had bow'd; Soft lawns, which mid farrounding coverts fpread, By the wild tenants of the fcene were fed ; Deep delis, with fern and brake, and twitted thorn, Thick-matted, whence the hunter's (brill-ton d horn Started th' elaflic deer, which, flung with fright, Swift as the viewlefs winds, purfued their flight; Loud torrents, rumbling as they won their courfe Thro' fretted rocks and winding banks by force; Or rills, that murmur' d mufic, as their race Thro' flowery vales they ran with even pace. When War's alarms no more around him rag'd, In fports amid thefe fcenes the Chief engag'd ; Sports, that became his hardy form ! — When Light Firft *gan to ftreak the flying mifts of Night, From his rough couch he fprung; his bugle blew, And round him each impatient hunter drew ; Then forth the deed of wondrous fwiftnefs came, And thro' the woods he fought th' affrighted game; From morn to eve, woods, plains, and vales and hills With the loud echo of his voice he fills; ( 190 ) No toil fatigues him, and no danger stays j Perils the zeft of his amufement raife j Then home to gorgeous halls and blazing fires, Weary, yet pleas'd with exercife, retires j The feaft is fpread -, the war-clad walls along Rings the glad converfe, and rebounding fongj And when again the fable-mantled Night Far o'er the fky has urg'd her heavy flight, On the hard bed his giant limbs he throws, And finks ferenely into deep repofe! O age of luxury ! O days of eafe ! The reftlcfs, vigorous, foul ye ne'er can pleafe ! Within your ftagnant lakes Corruption breeds, And on your flowers vile fenfual Meannefs feeds ! As when foul pefts have gather d in the fky And o'er the globe the death-charg'd vapours fly, Soon as the mighty Tempeft drives his blafts, And thro' the lurid gloom his lightning cafts, Vanish the congregated brood of ills, And health and funfhine all the landfcape fills j So, when wan Indolence and timid Joy, The native fpirit of the mind deftroy, And fiends of Hell, and fprites of loathfome Pain, Self-love, Lufl, Gluttony, and Hate, enchain j The toils of war, the battle's thundering ftorm, The fieepy current of the foul reform: ( 191 ) The loaded bofom purge, and bid it flame With the pure throbbings of a generous fame, And light with hope, and airy with the fire Of bleft Ambition, up to Heaven afpire ! ( 193 ) RETIREMENT. A FRAGMENT. Ye woods, that underneath your covering wings Hide my tir'd frame, all hail ! Here Noife, and Toil. Hollow-eyed bafe Intrigue, and Envy pale, Black Malice, and envenom'd Calumny, Dare not difturb the filence of your reign : Here I can woo lone Quiet, here collect My fcatter'd thoughts, and to my enfeebled mind Call back new vigour ; here can re-arrange The forms, that now in wild confusion float On my tumultuous brain. Be prefent, Mufe ! And as the mift withdraws, and every thought Takes its due fhape before the mental eye, Aid me to paint it in the living fong ! Greeen fields, and whifpering trees, and living ftreams, And hills and vales, where graze rich herds, and friik The new-born lambs, before my fancy play. O for the pencil dipt in Nature's hues, ( w ) Which, guided by fweet Thomfon's magic hand, Touch'd with due brilliance all their glowing charmst Or thine, more varied Cowper, in whofe flrain, Now moral and now gay, now rural fcenes Burfi with enchantment on the raptur'd fight! Where yonder (hepherd's hut, that on the knoli Crown'd by thofe ancient elms, which overhang Its low thatch'd roof, jufl peeps, there dwell a race Who fee the morning dawn and evening fet Jn all their glories. Thro' the livelong day HeavVs purefl breezes brace their vigorous limbs 3 Labour makes rest delightful j to coarfe fare Keen appetite gives zest j and found their fleep On the hard pallet, while the rocking winds, That whistle thro' their crazy tenement, But lull them to a more profound repole. For me had Providence that humbler lot Decreed, methinks my days had happier been, Than now to sickly Indolence a prey, Wafting with cares, and torn with worldly wrongs: Then Health had nerv'd my feeble form, andbloom'd My pallid cheek j and in this languid eye Sweet Cheerfulnefs her dancing rays infpir'd. Gay had I bounded o'er the diftant hills, Breafted the piercing blaft, or with the wind In equal race contended, unfatigued ! o ( 194 ) then how grateful had the clofe of eve 'Heturn'd me to my little ftied, the hearth Bright-blazing, and the lowly couch of ftraw 1 But now, alas, to vain anxiety 1 wake, and as the minutes drag along, Gurfe the long day, yet no relief at night Find j for, tho' weary, feverilli heats deny Hest to my aching frame j and Sleep aloof Hovers, as if in mockery of my prayers. Ambition treads not in thefe peaceful haunts, But Innocence is leagued with trueft Joy. And what can life afford compared with thefe ? Can rank and riches, fplendid palaces, The gaudy equipage, the liveried flave, Appeafe the anxious cares, the guilty pangs, That lurk within the heart 5 or lull to reft Corporeal ftckness ? — Short, alas, the reign Of worldly greatnefs ! Death comes unprepar'd, Perchance e'en while you ftretch the arm to grafp The bauble, for which years of toil, and crime, And fuffering, have been wafted; when your heir By a ihort courfe of folly undermines The tottering column of your hard-earn'd fame. And finks it in the cluft from whence it rofe* Happy is he, who 'crofs yon floping field Directs the labouring ploughfhare, and inhales ( '105 ) The fragrance of the frefh-turn'd foil, till noon Relieves his weary team, and brings him back To th' antique hall, which in our grandfire's days Own'd loftier habitants, and has beheld Many a bold race of feudal lords expire 'Neath its fantaftic roof; for there the board Spread by the frugal dame affords a feaft More exquifife to him, whom healthy toil Invigorates, than regal banquets feem To the poor fickly minion of a court. never may I in the tainted air Of crowded cities, where the din of trade And the loud clamours of corrupted mobs Affail my fenfes, be again immur'd ! 1 feek thefe fhades to hide my tortur'd head From an unjuft, cppreffive, hated world. The gloom of dark umbrageous boughs; the frefh And perfum'd odour that the loaded breeze Bears from the quivering leaves; the pathway cool, That takes with ibft embrace my aching feet, Soothe my worn fpirit, calm my trembling fteps, And to exiftence rays of hope recall. I hear no fhout of mobs ; I hear no - roll Of rattling cars, bedaub'd with new-got wealth, And deck'd with purchas'd blood-ftain'd coronets, Thund'ring along the streets, and threat'ning loud O 2 ( m ) To crufh fuch poor and humble worms as f. I hear no more the coarfe obftreperous din Of purT'd-up lawyers, venal, flupid, fierce, Blind to all merits but their own, and arm'd With all a pleader's fubtle tricks to clofe The door, which f hence has open'd to themfelves. I hear no coxcomb Lord, who, having climb' d By the bafe arts a tool and minion loves, Babbles his finical and frothy fluff, And ftrives to legiflate for all the world.* But wand'ring filent on, a gradual calm Spreads o'er my heart; " there yet is peace for me," I cry; and quick my buoyant fpirit fprings, And throws in fcorn its load of cares away. Then Fancy rifes from lethargic chains, Beneath whose weight long time opprefs'd fhe lay ; And as fhe lifts her hand, and waves her rod, Up the long viftas, on the opening lawns, I fee gay Hope, with all her brilliant train, "Weave the quick dance, and fpread the fplendid (how. But, as the rays from her refulgent locks Glancing, inveft the diflant fcenes in light, O let no more the falfely-glittering toys Of curfl: Ambition with delufive gleam * Is none fuch to be found in the living Peerage? ( m ) Attract my fight ; but be its choice fome ccf r Where in the gentle funftnne of Content Domeftic privacy endears the dayj Where Learning fpreads her inexhaufled tomes, And deep Reflection cheats the toil of time. O what are now to me the rancorous looks Of fcornful Rivalry ; the fordid tricks Of felfilh Artifice ; the glance oblique Of Slander, fpitting, coward-like, its gall On the poor victim's undefended back ? What is the fneer of bloated riches ? What The ideot tofs of Titles, which the fpoils Of Fraud, Extortion, Rapine, have acquir'd ? They agitate my heart no more; they ca# A gloom no more upon my alter'd mien. Intent on other themes, that calm my foul, And elevate my thoughts, with dauntlefs eye I look on all the ills of life, and view Unmoved " the ministers of human fate," That ftill around me lurk. — O balmy breeze, That fann'ft this bofom with thine odorous wings, Still blow, and let me- bare it to thy breath. It beats not now with wild tumultuous throbs: But thrills with fweet ferenity, while calm Hangs the cerulean canopy of Heaven, And Silence the foft light enchanted wooas* ( 198 ) Now wakes the poet's flrain ; from yonder fhade* Methinks I bear the rapturous notes pour'd forth. O hail, ye gifted matters of the Lyre! If, long an alien to your holy rites,.. Loft I have wander'd, once again admit- A fad repentant votary to your mriues ! From you he feeks for genuine joy : from you He alks the charm that bids the gloomieft depths. Of Solitude to fmile, and peoples all The frowning wildernefs with heavenly forms. O thou, from whofe infpired lips arofe The tale of ,e Fairy catties, ofbrave.Knights And gentle Ladies — whofe immortal fong Fierce wars, and faithful loves have moraliz'd," O fay, while haunting favage foils, * amid Barbaric clans, whofe difcord rude, and yells Of hideous tone, might e'en appal the hearts . Of ftouteit heroes, fay, enchanting Bard, What but the Mufe could foothe thofe anxious days Of never-ceafing peril — She, who bade E'en Mulla's murmuring waters, as thou lay'ft Calm on her banks, while Murder flalk'd around, Nurfe thy fweet dreams, and cherifh for thy lyre The brilliant fcenes of vifionary worlds! * See Spenfer's Sonnets to Lord Ormond, and Lord Grey of Wiltor*. ( m ) And thou, fublimeft Milton, from whofe tongue - Flow'd holy infpiration, when befet With poverty, with farrow, blame and fcorn, t( With dark nets and with dangers compafs'd round," What but, the Mufe, thy dreary rooms could light With-glories of feraphic brilliancy? But where, O Nymph, doll thou delight to dwell? What are the fcenes, that feem to fofter moft Thy day-dreams ? High-o'erarching bowers, the fong^ Of birds, and lapfe of rivers, and the figli Of Zephyr in the leaves ? — On graffy banks- The poet throws his carelefs limbs,, while cool Beneath his feet the rippling current runs, And, as before his half-fhut eyes appear Ten thoufand glorious fhapes, he weaves the lay., And'feels unutterable joy, as grow The fairy forms of his creative brain. Thou, who could' ft ope the fountains of the heart, At whofe pathetic eloquence the eye Streams with big tears, and fobs- the heaving breaft, Unhappy Otway ! as on Arun's marge Thine infant form was ftretch'd, what airy imps Of pure angelic foftnefs hover'd o'er Thy young imagination ! What fvveet notes Of inexpreffive tendernefs and joy Witb-exquifite vibration thrilVd thine ear!- ( 200 ) O cruel was the fate, that led thy fteps, From thefe the Mufe's haunts, (where ftill fhe deigns- To linger, and infpire her prieftefs, her, From whofe enchanting lyre awake the tones, That touch the bofom and the fancy fill,*) Led thy young Heps to camps and courts impure, Where felfilh Luxury and low-born Vice And fenfual manners brutaliz'd the foul : Where mean degenerate thoughts beneath the pomp Of glittering vefts debas'd the fhape of man! Ah! ill-ftarr'd child of genius, could'ft thou wafle Thy voice infpir'd on groveling tribes like thefe? How did they prefs the fragance of thy mind, Pluck off its flowers, and rifle all its fweets To veil the poifon of their fetid thoughts, Then " throw thee like a naufeous weed away," For very want in loath'fome dens to die.f * Mrs. Charlotte Smith. ■f " Thomas Otway, fon of Humphry Otway, ?e£r.or of Wol- beding in Suffex, was bom at Trottin in that county, March 3, 1651, fent to Winchefter fchool, and thence to Oxford; but deferred the Univerfity 1674. He died at a fpunging-houfe, known by the name of the Bull, on Tower-hill, on April 14,. 168 5, aged about thirty-five. years." From Oldys's M'SS ; who adds, that " in the collection of Familiar Letters of Lord Rocheiler, &c. 1697, there are fix of Otway, written to Mrs. Barry, the a&refs, in a very paffionate and pathetical ftyle, and ( 201 } Would, thou hadft never left thy native fields, But heard the woods, that whifper'd o'er thy births And ftreams that prattled to thine infant lips, Still to thy manhood murmur! Then perchance Some new Monimia with yet fofter voice, Some Belvidera in pathetic tones Of tendernefs e'en yet more exquifite, Had pierc'd cur hearts and lifted up our fouls ! ! O form'd of texture too refin'd, of thought Too nice for worldly intercourfe, no groves Had been too thick for thee; the chequer'd gloom Had footh'd the coming phantoms of thy mind, And rang'd them in new virions, beautiful As tints of air-drawn catties ! But the fiend Ambition crofs'd thee ; thy infpired voice Was chang'd to mortal ; and an early grave Was the befl gift thy haplefs lot could gain! Mother of Virtue, Emprefs of the lyre, , O lovely Solitude, with whom alone Sweet Senfibility is fafe, to thee, Only to thee is my tumultuous heart much more eloquent than any otherof his writings." — "Otway,'*' fays Oldys, " was more beholden to Captain Symonds, the vintner, in whofe debt he died 400 1. than to all his patrons of quality. See Les Soupirs de la Grand Bretagne, or the Groans of Great Britain, Svo. 1713, p. 07." ( 202* ) Fit gueft ! Beneath thy peaceful wing fubfider The wild confufion, which the fhout of mobs, The din of company, the jest, the fneer, Envy's fcance look, and Hatred's favage frown Upraife. With thee vaniih the empty with Of mean distinction, the degrading figh For empty honours ; each unholy thought, Ungenerous hopes, malignant prophecies,: Refentment, Scorn, Difguife — Yet there are griefs, . Not all the calm of filent woods, and ftreams Scarce murmuring, can ever foothe. Intent Upon the heart the blood-ftain'd vultures fix, . Gnawing with greedy appetite their prey! — How oft with eyes upon the ground I lit From hour to hour, while frill th' incumbent weight Heavier and heavier grows! I with for night, But thro- the night the cowering demons ply , With maw, infatiate, nor does th'. opening dawn Bring eafe ! Exhaufted, lifelefs, I again Sink on my couch, and wi ill again for night. Blow all ye winds! Ye fpirits of the ftorm > Direct the fhrieking blaft, at which the grove Shakes all its branches, and the foreft groans I (Met me mingle in the roaring war ©f. elements j and rouze this languid frame?' ( 203 } Then may the- fiends perchance, that torture me/. Affrighted fly 5 and once again my lips Sound undifturb'd the gentle paftoral pipe! Echoes the fhepherd's pipe o'er liftening plains, And woods and vales his calm delight ; he tighs Soft on his oaten flops, and on the breeze Floats the fweet found along the filent air:. It feems to fpeak ferenity to me : The boiling of my breaft fubfides to peace y And vigorous eafe returns. Philofophy: Now opes her volumes to the ardent view ; The heart and all its windings ftand difplay'cL- To my inquiring gaze; the fwelling blifs Of confcious Virtue; th' undifguifed pang Of Vice, for tranfient pleafures bought too high $ Sorrow's low murmur, Friendship's fecret tear For cold Neglect; Affection's burfting cries . For the loft object of her frantic love ; Hypocrify's deep-cover'd with; the gall Working with venomous force in Envy's breaft j All thefe, and yet a thoufand more, with tints Changing, and various as the rainbow's hues. To Contemplation's eye diftinct appear. Now Hiftory unfolds her pictur'd (tores, And {hews hew- vain are all the. gay purfui t§ .... ( 204 ) Of fboliih Man ; bow empty is the toy The blood- ftain'd Conqueror gains; what tranfient flowers Bloom in the thorny wreath the tlatefman wears! Here Honour climbs in vain; at every point Some ruffian guards the fteep afcent, and moves The ftruggler backwards, often to the pit ,. Of dire destruction, whence he ftarts no more. Here Genius pines deprefs'd, while brazen tongues- Ufurp the chair of Wifdomj and Intrigue, And Falfehood, in triumphant fplendor ride. He, who can look on fuch a fcene as this> And (igh not for the calm of woodland fhades, And innocent images, and fragrant airs Refreming, and the fong of birds, and moan Soothing, tho' mournful, of the lonely breeze, Has but a worldling's heart, that ne'er can beat With one high with, afpiring Virtue claims. 'Mid all the beauties of this wondrous Orb, 'Tis the coarfe fpirit feeks life's bufy paths 5 Noife, buftle, crowds, activity, turmoil. How rare is Virtue found with Power or State! Courts, fenates, camps, fcarce know her: and the road Ambition travels, is befet with crime \ ( 205 ) "Where yonder ancient walls of flint uprear Their lofty roof, far feen for many a mile,* And yon old neighbouring park, + now thick o'er- grown With tangled copfe-wood, fpreads its wild domain O'er many a flat, and many a dell reel ufe, How often thro' the gloom of wintry clouds,, Loft in its folitary fhades I ftray, Wrapt in the dreams of former days ! I view The war-worn Knight, with fpoils and trophies deck'd, Forth from the porch, whofe antique fpandrils ftill Malta's white crofs adorns, forth iffuing, mount The bounding courfer, and with hounds and horn Dafh thro' thefe coverts, while thro' each recefs Rings the repeated echo of their cries. " O peace, O innocence, O lovely fports," I hear him cry, " whofe healthful, chearing toil, Whofe rapture ' after no repentance draws 3' * St. John's in Swingfield, Kent, an ancient preceptory of the Knights of St. John of Jerufalem. On the main road from Canterbury to Dover, after paffing the Half-Way-Houfe, it is a confpicuous object on the right for fome miles. See a very accurate print of this curious relic in Brayley's Beauties of England, (Kent). j- Called Swingfield Park, now overgrown with wood. ( 206 ) O never, never, may I know again The brawls of a tumultuous hateful v orld 1 Thro' the wide globe, acrofs the raging main, O'er earth's mod lavage haunts ; the battle's rage, Th' Aflaflin's den, the Enchanter's mad'ning fpells, I've fought the phantom Fame, as one who held The key, that op'd the door to Happinefs. But yet, e'en when the Syren led to halls Of feall and merriment; the fong, the dance, The gorgeous fhowj 'the - crowd of belted chiefs, Heroes, and beauteous dames 3 I never knew Joys fo ferene as thefe fo cheaply bought! madnefs to go far, and feek {o wide Thro' danger, and thro' guilt, for that Tmall pearl, Which at ; fo little coft isfound at home ! When evening {hades defcend, with mind at eafe, And limbs juft fitted to repofe, I feek The venerable dome, and as the fire Cafts its bright blaze acrofs the war-clad hall, 1 enter, and, to temperate feafl attun'd, Enjoy the luxury of reft, and feel Night's ftillnefs creeping on, tillfighing blafts, 3uft murmuring, fink my frame to flumbers deep. E'en the fweet dream of perils paft no more Flits cfofs my brain : but in, profound repofe ( ^0/ ) I He, and, waking with the morning's beam, Rife calm and vigorous to my pure delights; And thus I afk the remnant of my life To wear away; then near yon humble fane beneath a turf-clad grave to lleep in peace!" Q&tera dejufii. ( WS ) ELEGIAC LINES, ON MRS. LEFROY, WHO DIED BY A FALL FROM HER HORSE, DEC. l6> 1804*. WRITTEN IN DEC. 1 S06. TDeep grief is dumb -, elfe long ago, dear fhade, To thee the mournful Mufe her rites had paid: Whelm'd with the flroke, e'en now ray palfied brain Struggles with feeble effort at the flrain : * The following character of her appeared in the Gentle- man's Magazine, vol. ixxiv. p. 1178. " To do juftice to the character of Mrs. Lefroy would require a command of glowing and pathetic expreffion far beyond the powers of the writer of this article. She was alike the delight of the old and the young, of the lively and the fevere, the rich and the poor. She received from Nature an intellectual capacity of the higheft order ; her ^perceptions were rapid ; her memory was tenacious ; her com- preheniion was extentive ; her fancy was fplendid ; her fenti* ments were full of tendernefs ; and her language was eafy, co- pious, and energetic. It may be truly faid of her, that * She Hfp'd in numbers, for the numbers came.' c < At twelve years old fhe wrote a beautiful Hymn, and ottref fmall poems; and two or three of her competitions, written ( 209 ) -The fountain of my 'former tears is dry 3 And wan Defpair fits frx'd in either eye, nearly thirty years ago, are inferted in the firft volume of 'the Poetical Regifter, p. 32,36, 112. Thefe poems are eafy, ele- gant, and full of thofe natural graces which form a charming • contraft to that laboured and turgid ftyle fo lately fafhionable. Yet they convey a very faint idea of the powers, which, had me beftowed a little more effort and frequency on fuch occupations, 'flie could have exhibited. But pofieffed of various qualities to pleafe, and capable of delighting by more general and focial at- traction, fhe never afpired to the fame of an author. It was only an accidental impulfe that occafionally prompted her to feize the pen ; when fhe wrote, for private iimufement, a few glowing and unaffected lines, with the fame forcible and care- lefs rapidity, with which (he talked : in thefe, however, a faga- ■ cious reader will fee what a more conflant and regulated atten- tion to this art could have enabled her to perform. It was by the tenor of her amiable and virtuous life, by her lively and enchanting manners, by the overflowing benevolence of ' her difpofition, by clothing the naked, by feeding the hungry, by inftructing the ignorant, by healing the fick, and by com- ' forting the mourner, that fhe has won a more noble wreath ''of fame, and drawn over her grave the lading tears of her ago- nized friends and numerous acquaintance, and the heartbroken lamentations and earned prayers of the poor 1 Actuated by the warmth of her natural fenfibility, and -in- fpired by the elevated dictates of a religion, which predomi- nated over her whole mind, fhe fuffered neither the allure- ments of fociety, to which no one was fo fenfible, nor the attachments of blood and friendship, which no one ever felt more exquifitely, to feduce her from thofe more humble du- ties, which fhe exercifed in unwearied endeavours to ameliorate ( 210 ) Ah ! Time, that boafts to mellow down the hues Of wild Regret, and o'er her form difTufe A foothing fadnefs, teaches me to know With keener certainty my darkening woe ! At every care, and every riling joy, Each tafk, that would my wand'ring thoughts employ, The morning ramble, and the evening toil, Thro' life I look'd for thy confoling (mile! But now, whene'er I Learning's page unroll, And flrive by ftudious pains to raife my foul, Soon as in vain I feek thy cheering look, Down from my' unclafping hands defcends the book! the condition of poverty and wretchednefs. Whoever fre- quented her houfe, at which hofpitality and benignity con- fiantly reigned, has feen her at her daily talk of teaching the village children to read, to write, to work, to make bafkets of ftraw ; has. feen her adminifter medicines to the lick, and confolation to the afflicted; and has feen the numerous re- fort from a wide-fur rounding neighbourhood, of whom fhe communicated the important benefits of vaccine innoculation to upwards of 800 with her own hand. Of fuch a character, fo fuddenly taken away, when neither age nor illnefs had yet arrived to impair her mind or conftitution, even they who knew her not, cannot blame this long memorial : for where is fuch an union of admirable qualities to be found? In in- tellect, in heart, in temper, in manners, in drift and elevated principles, in pure and untainted conduct, fhe has left no fecond behind her." ( 2H ) Forgetful of my lofs, if tranfient fire Impels thofe hands to feize the filent lyre, To thee I bid it pour its trembling tone ! — Thou beared not! — it breathes a dying moan; And inftantly the rifing fpirit's flown 1 Sometimes I wake from fome enchanting dream Bright with the Mufes' rainbow-tin6lured beam, Or deck'd with golden pomp, and all the fhow That bold Ambition's gorgeous flames beftow ; Glowing, I hade, my raptures to impart j But thou, alas! art gone ; and to my heart Cold chilling damps of hopelefs anguifh dart. Lovelieft of human beings, Sifter, Friend, Inftructor, Guardian, where can ever end The praife, that to thy angel worth belongs; Worth that has e'en tranfcended poets' fongs ! In every walk of life, beloved, adord, How have all ranks thy haplefs fate deplor'd ! How did thy liberal hand, and melting voice, Bid the chill'd heart of Poverty rejoice ! Amid the circles of the rich and wife, How fpoke the mental radiance of thine eyes ! How charm'd the wifdom of thy flowing tongue! How from thy breaft the lore of angels fprung ! P 2 ( 212 ) But while thy mortal relics fl umber here, Moiften'd by Love's, by Friend (hip's, Virtue's tear, Thy blifsful fpirit, O exalted Saint, Which not the mixture of earth's mould could taint. Wanders triumphant; and the f welling lyre, Touch'd by thy human hands with hallow'd fire, Around the throne, where Tinging Seraphs blaze, Strikes in glad notes to thy Creator's praife! NOTES. SONNETS. It has been the fafhion of late to defpife Sonnets, more efpecially thofe, which, on account of the technical re- ^ petition, and contexture, of the rhymes, are called legi- timate. All the early portion of the following were written and published at a time when this fort of com- pofition was not common ; and few had been offered to the public, fince the clofe of queen Elizabeth's reign, but thofe of Milton, in the time of Charles I. and thofe of Mr. Thomas Warton in 1777, and Mr. John Bamp- fylde in 1778.* What I now reprint, fir It appeared in March 1785. But in the preceding fpring were given to the world, under this title, the fir ft enchanting Poems of the late Mrs. Charlotte Smith, which I never faw, till after my own were printed : they did not ad- here to the ftrict rules of this kind of metre; but per- haps they were the better for it ; for they poffeffed that freedom and eafe, which it is fcarce pofiible to preferve while entangled by the complicated rules of the ancient fonnet. For my own part, it was, while at Cambridge, * Some excellent tranflations of this kind appeared foon afterwards in the elegant, learned, and interefting notes of Mr. Hayley's poetical EpilUes on Epic Poetry. ( 214 ) in my twentieth year, that constantly poring over Mil. ton, and increafing in my admiration of his early poems, from the impotent attempt of Johnfon to decry them, I proceeded from that admiration to a rafli effort to imi- tate thofe fimply-majeftic productions in this way, which the great critic with fuch rude and unfeeling farcafm had condemned to utter contempt. How I fucceeded, confidering my age, and other circumftances, my readers have long had an opportunity of judging, if they have thought it worth a judgment. At this diftance of time I can myfelf perceive, that T was not able to conquer the ftiffnefs, which this fort of metre generally caufes. SONNET I. page 3. The fentiments contained in this Sonnet, however inadequately expreffed, were perfectly fincere. While many of the author's friends appeared diffatisfied with his furrendering himfelf to fo romantic a purfuitas that of poetry, he was anxious to juftify himfelf both to his own confcience, and to the few, whofe opinion he moft regarded. He had weil-wifhers, who looked to a career for him of more oftentatious ambition ; who thought that his humble talents were wafted, except in the chafe of wealth and honours; and who expected from him therefore an application to more ufeful and better- rewarded fludies ; but they forgot what Cowley has faid of him, who has been once touched with a fondnefs for the Mufe ; ** Where once fuch fairies dance, no grafs doth ever gro-.v," ( 215 ) Years however followed, in which this paffion was fup- preflfed and blighted, by difappointment and untoward accidents : but the ground, alas! lay barren, for it had been rendered unfit to bear any other fruit. The tone of some of the expreflions in this Sonnet was, I think, fuggefted by fome pafTages in one of Milton's. SONNET III. page 5. After three and twenty years further experience of the world, I feel with (till more force, the fentiments, which thus iffued from the depth of my heart at fo early an age. SONNET IV. page 6. I fufpect that part of the language was fuggefted by a familiarity with the poems of Collins, who was one of the greatelt favourites of my youthful tafte. SONNET VI. page 8. Some of the exprenlons here were fuggefted by a well- known paffage in Shakefpeare. SONNET VII. page 9. The exclufive attention and honours that were paid to mathematical purfuits while the author was at Cam- ( 210 ) bridge, and the neglect and contempt with which claP iical attainments were treated, notwithstanding all that has been faid of ciaffical medals, &c. filled him with clif- guft, and caufed this effaficn of difcontent. In truth the matter could fcarcely be otherwife, fo long as the tutors and fenior refidents were principally compofed of men, who had acquired diftincfion, on taking their degrees, folely in the former ftudies, which was princi- pally the cafe with thofe educated in the North, who brought with them to college more (kill in thofe fciences > than a youth from Eton, or Werirninfter, or Harrow, can hope to obtain during his whole undergraduatefhip ; but who were, for the moll part, utterly ignorant even in the rudiments of ciaffical knowledge. A certain, proficiency in mathematics is neceffary to qualify a per- fon to he a candidate for the claflical medal. But more than this: the fa6r. that this medal has almoft always been attained by thofe who have flood at the head of the lift for mathematical eminence fpeaks for itfelf. The prefent chief juftice of the King's Bench attained both ; but his northern origin is well knowm : and further re- . marks are too obvious to be neceiTary, SONNETS X. and XI. Thefe two Sonnets were not inferted in the firft- edition. All that can be faid on the fubjeft of hunting, has^ been fo beautifully given by Somervile, that all at- tempts to emulate him are hopelefs. The coarfe joke of I?r.Johnfon ? that " he writes very well for a . gentLs- ( m ) man," is too contemptible to deferve an anfwer. Is composition then a trade, a profeffion, or a maniu fa&ure ? SONNET XII. page 14, The lady, now of high rank, to whom this Sonnet was addreifed, has fince, by her amiable conduct in the difcharge of the moit important duties of life, as much excited the efteem, as (he formerly, by her beauty, at- t rafted the admiration of her acquaintance. The ftru6hire of the expreflions is an obvious parody of a beautiful defcription in Milton. SONNETS XIII.— X.V.— XVIII. The fcene of thefe Sonnets, the place of my nativity, the feat of my fathers, ftill rills me with the deepeft filial affection. My weak words were then, and are ftill,. totally inadequate to a defcription of its wild and reclufe beauties. I left it for Cambridge in Oclober 1780, be- fore I had completed my 18th year, to return to it as my home no more. My dear father died in the follow- ing month; and, as a younger brother, it became my lot to part from all the fcenes that had been entwined with my earliest pleafures, for ever. Years could not obliterate the prejudice (as it was called) that no other fpot on the earth could be the fame to me. There were thofe who told me, " it was a dull place, an ugly place," and other fcornful words, and they wondered at my partiality. But if it was dull and ugly to others, (which ( 218 ) yet I defy any one of good tafte to fay with fincerity that it was) it was not dull and ugly to me ! " Nefcio qua natale fclum du'cedine cunftos O ! on what a race of virtues and innocent amufe- ments has the cold grave been clofed for ever fince that time ! I remember that eventful autumn, above all the eventful ones, which are impreffed with fuch vividnefs, perhaps exceeding the reality, on my haraffed fancy ! A fyftem of manners, and habits of life, which I have not feen fince, were then broken up for ever! Would that I could once more behold them reftored ! That fimplicity, rural contentment, and unoflentatious hofpi- tality could be again revived ! But in the certain changes of this ever-reftlefs globe, in the inevitable de- terioration of modes and eviftoms, as a nation proceeds from wealth to luxury, and from luxury to decline, philofophy warns me that my wifh is impoffible. The feat here alluded to, ftands on an high hill, em- bofomed in noble trees, about midway on the road be- tween Canterbury and Dover. It forms a confpicuous obje£t immediately on afcending to Barham Downs from Bridge, and continues to exhibit a piciurefque but vary- ing feature aerbfs a deep valley on the right, nearly till within five miles of Dover. In the reign of queen Eli- zabeth it was the feat of the learned family of Digges, whofe fon fir Dudley, a patriot of fome celebrity, is known among thofe who firft made a itand in parlia- ment againft the encroachments on the liberties of the people attempted by Charles I. The houfe is of vari- ous dates; part modern, and part very ancient. The laft Sonnet of thefe three, was written ten years after the others. ( 2i 9 ) SONNET XVII. Perhaps it may be unwife to remind the reader of Milton's 7th Sonnet, beginning " Hoiv foon hath Time" &c. SONNET XX. " Did you never," fays Gray, in one of his letters, " obferve, (--while rocking 'winds are fifing loud) that paufe, as the gull is recollecting itfelf, and rifmg upon the ear in a thrill and plaintive note, like the fwell of an .ZEolian harp ? I do affure you, there is nothing in the world fo like the voice of a fpirit. Thomfon had an ear fometimes; he was not deaf to this ; and has defcribed it glorioufly, but given it another different turn, and of more horror. I cannot repeat the lines j it is in his Winter." — Gray's JVorks, by Ma/on, 281. SONNET XXI. See Milton's 20th Sonnet to Mr. Lawrence. SONNETS XXVI. to XXXII. All thefe were written for the novel of Mary De Clif- ford, which was begun in the end of October 1791 5 and, being fent to the prefs in meets as it was written, was publifhed in January 1792. After a lapfe of nearly fix- ( 220 ) teen years, the warmth of fome of its defcriptions feems to require this notice of its date. All the Sonnets, ex- cept the firll and lad of them, are written in the cha- racter of Wood vile, the hero of the piece. The de- fcription of Grafton is of a fictitious place ; though fuch was the name of the refidence of the real family of Woodvile. SONNETS XXXIII. to XXXVIII. The novel, in which thefe were inferted, it is not neceffary to name. Much clamour was raifed againft it, on pretence of perfonalities, fome of which had no other ground than the malignant fancies of thofe who applied them. The XXX-IVth SONNET was written after a vifit to Penfhurft, in Kent, formerly the magni- ficent feat of the Sydneys, and Hill owned and inhabited by their defcendant by the female line, who has taken the name. SONNETS XXXIX.— XL.— XLI. From a fubfequent novel, which has not engaged equal notice, becaufe it was fo cautioufly written, that the very perfonalities, for which the former was fo cruelly blamed, could not be attributed to it. SONNETS XLII. to XLIV. Thefe have been publifhed in the 4th volume of the Poetical Regifter. They were written at the clofe of 1S05. ( 221 ) ODE II. page 50. My memory may fail me at the diftance of twenty- four years; but I fufpecl, from having lately feen again. fir William Blackftone's Ode on a fimilar fubjeft, which is revived in Mr. Southey's Specimens, that mine was fuggefted by it. I had then juft completed my twen- tieth year ; and had left Cambridge for chambers in the Middle Temple. With a head, at that time, full of poetry and romance, I was then the moil unfit being upon earth for fuch a ftudy. No utterly unknown lan- guage appeared to me more unintelligible. In a ftate of mind calculated to throw the mantle of imagination over every thing, I was called upon to analyfe and dif~ criminate fubjecls, coarfe, hard, dry, and repullive at any diftance, but abfolutely difgufung in proportion as they were nearly and minutely examined. I had been deftined to the bar from boyhood, becaufe my maternal anceftor had formerly attained the fummit of his pro- feffion, and elevated his family to the highell rank and honours ; but, ignorant as I was, I had not expecled an arena of fophiftry, inftead of eloquence ; a forum for the quibbles of fpecial pleading, inltead of the difplay of talents enlarged by the cultivation of general literature, and exercifed in the powers of glowing and energetic language. I was not prepared to be nofed by attornies* clerks, who though ilupid by nature, and quite illiterate from want of education, but converfant with copying the files of office, would have filenced all the rich and pro- found effufions of Burke himfelf ! 1 foon fhrunk there- fore into a date of mortified idlenefs and defpondence.j ( 222 ) I never therefore mixed with thefe coarfe fpirits; and patted every day and hour away from them, when refi- dence could be difpenfed with. Even now my heart finks, whenever I enter thofe abodes of gloom, and fo- phiftry, and hardnefs of mind. Not but I have among them, the moft intimate friend of my youth, a man of moll powerful faculties, and as powerful acquirements ; but he felt the neceflity of exerting himfelf, and he now -experiences the happy effects of it. ODE VII. page 68. The fcenery of the fecond and third ftanzas of this Ode, is taken from the approach to Dover 5 and that of the fixth, relates to the cattle there. ODE VIII. Written at Ewfhot, a feat, which for a few months in 1786 was lent the author by a near relation, to whom it ftil belongs. ODE XIII. Six Bards of Ossian. page 87. Gray was particularly ft ruck with this poem of Ofiian, or rather Macpherfon. He fays, " It is full of nature, and noble wild imagination. Five bards pafs the night at the cattle of a chief (himfelf a principal bard) ; each goes out in his turn to obferve the face of things, and returns with an extempore piclure of the changes he ( 223 ) has feen ; (it is an October night, the harveft month of the Highlands). This is the whole plan ; yet there is a contrivance, and a preparation of ideas, that you would not expect. The oddeft thing is, that everyone of them fees ghofts (more or lefs). The idea that ftruck, and furprifed me moll is the following. One of them, (defcribing a ftorm of wind and rain) fays " Ghofts ride on the tempeft to night: Sweet is their fong between the gufts of wind ; Their fongs are of other worlds /*' [Here follows Gray's obfervation about the paufes between the gufts already cited, p. 219]. He goes on : " There is another very fine picture in one of them. It defcribes the breaking of the clouds after a ftorm, before it is fettled into a calm, and when the moon is feen by fhort intervals. " The waves are tumbling on the lake, And lafh the rocky fides, The boat is brim-full in the cove, The oars on the rocking tide. Sad fits a maid beneath a cliff, And eyes the rolling ftream : Her lover promifed to come, She faw his boat (when it was evening) on the lake. Are thefe his groans in the gale ? Is this his broken boat on the flwre? See the whole in Laing's edition of OOlan, vol. ii. p. 4.14. Mr. Laing is of opinion it is founded on Mac- ( '224 ) pherfon's poem, entitled " The Night -Piece," ibid. p.6>3< He adds, "The accumulation of images in the Six Bards could only have been accomplifhed by a careful aflemblage of what other poets have written upon the fubjecl, and by a judicious feleclion of the molt impref- five ideas and expreffions in each." THE GAMEKEEPER'S RETURN, page 166, Firft publifhed in the Poetical Regiirer. RETIREMENT, page 193. Firil publifhed in Cenfura Literaria, vol. i. ; as was ■the Fragment on a deserted Mansion, page r.3.3. THE E-ND, T. 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