PR 3729 
 .T4 P6 
 1801 
 Copy 1 
 
Glass_B 
 Book__3LAi 
 
 ___ 
 
 \20\ 
 
^^ JccS^e^i, 
 
 
 POEMS, 
 
 CHIEFLY WRITTEN IN RETIREMENT, 
 
 BY JOHN THELWALL; 
 WITH MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
 
 Price to Subscribers 7s, 
 
[ENTERED AT STATIONERS' HALL.} 
 
CERRIG'-EHIO^ 
 
 TkebvaE ddin. 
 
 Why on the moul'dring tomb of other times 
 Sits the lorn wanderer. 
 
 Sutherland H:cu 
 
Poems chiefly written in Retirement. 
 
 THE 
 
 FAIRY OF THE LAKE, 
 
 A DRAMATIC ROMANCE; 
 EFFUSIONS OF 
 
 RELATIVE AMD SOCIAL 
 FEELING: 
 
 ana %>ptiin\tn$ of 
 
 THE HOPE OF ALBION ; 
 
 OR, 
 
 Edwin of Nortbumbria : 
 
 AN EPIC POEM. 
 
 9«/ 
 
 BY JOHN THELWALL: 
 
 WITH A PREFATORY MEMOIR OF 
 
 THE LIFE OF THE AUTHOR; 
 
 AND 
 
 NOTES and ILLUSTRATIONS of RUNIC MYTHOLOGY. 
 
 Hereford, Printed by W. H. Parker; 
 SOLD BY WEST AND HUGHES, P ATERNOSTER-RO W, 
 
 R. PHILLIPS, ST. Paul's church-yard, and jas. ridseway, 
 
 YORK-STREET, LONDON ; 
 
 J. STOCKDALE, ABBEY-STREET, DUBLIN; c)'C. <§£• 
 
 1801. 
 
1B0\ 
 
p. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 REFATORY Memoir - , - i 
 
 The Fairy of the Lake, a Dramatic Romance - 1 
 
 Act the First - 3 
 
 Act the Second - - - - - 3 1 
 
 Act the Third - - - - -62 
 
 Effusions of Social and Relative Affection 
 
 Advertisement .'- - - - 94 
 
 Elegy on the Death of P. Bonafous - - - 95 
 
 — - during the Festival of Christmas - - • - 97 
 
 . Written in 1786 - - - - 98 
 
 Sonnet to the Nightingale * - - - 101 
 
 Lines to his Mother, with a Crutch Stick - - - id. 
 
 Stanzas on a Clay Candlestick - - - 102 
 
 On receiving a Rose from his Sister • -.v • - 105 
 
 The Invitation. To Stella - - - 106 
 
 Stanzas to the same - -. - 108 
 
 Epistle to Mercutio - - - - 110 
 
 Harvey. An Apostrophe - - - -116 
 
 Invocation to Poetry. (By Stella) - -. - 118 
 
 Stanzas to Rosa Bella Bianca - - 1 19 
 
 To Stella in the Country. Dec. 1796 - - 120 
 
 The Tartan Pladdie - - - - - 123 
 
 Lines written at Bridgewater - - - - 126 
 The Farewell — Written at the request of a beautiful 
 
 Young Lady, at Uley, in Glocestershire - - 133 
 
 The Reply - - - - - 135 
 
 On leaving the Bottoms of Glocestershire - . - 13^ 
 
 The Woodbine. Dovedale, Oct. 1797 - 139 
 
 To the Infant Hampden - - - - 140 
 
 Maria — A Fragment - - - - - 142 
 
 Paternal Tears — Effusion I. - - - - 145 
 
 Effusion II. In the Vale of Taff - - - 140 
 
 • III. On the Banks of the Wye - - 150 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 Effusion IV. During a severe indisposition r - - 1 52 
 V. In the Vale of Taff - - -153 
 
 ■ VI. On returning from a Journey to M. Tydfil 154 
 ■ ' VII. On Stella's leaving me to visit Hereford, for 
 
 the restoration of her Health - - 156 
 VIII. At Merthyr Tydfil - - - 157 
 
 ■ IX. After having spent a part of the preceding 
 
 day in cheerful Society - - 1 59 
 
 . — X. Cerrig-Enion - - - - 161 
 
 The Harp on the Willow - - - - 164 
 
 Invocation to Health - - 165 
 
 Miscellanies 
 
 The Orphan Boy - - - 167 
 
 Amatory Sonnet (from Shakespear) - - - 170 
 
 Another - - - - - 171 
 The Fall of Egypt : or Extinction of the Ptolemies. 
 
 An Ode - - - - 172 
 
 Specimens of the Hope of Albion 
 
 Advertisement - - - 176 
 
 Argument of the First Book - - 177 
 
 of the Second Book - - 178 
 
 Proposition ; Invocation ; and Introduction ; from Book 
 
 the First - - -i - 179 
 
 Book the Second - - - 184 
 
 Notes and Illustrations of Runic Mythology - 203 
 
 CCf* Of this Poe?n, the fir si Six Books will be ready for publication in 
 the course of the ensuing spring. They will be committed to the 
 press as soon as a sufficient number of Copies are subscribed for to 
 answer the expences. The price to such as set down their names for 
 the cheaper edition will not exceed that of the present Volume, Of 
 the quarto edition the terms will be announced, as soon as the ?ieses» 
 sary arrangements are made. 
 
Prefatory Memoir. 
 
 Ti 
 
 HE following article is partly copied from the third 
 volume of Phillips's " Public Characters." The facts in 
 the slight sketch there presented being in general faithfully, 
 and altogether caadidly related, little more appeared re- 
 quisite on the present occasion, than some few corrections 
 and enlargements, and some additional circumstances that 
 escaped the researches of the editor of that popular work. 
 
 In this republication, the third person is still preserved, 
 altho, under the present circumstances of adoption, the nar- 
 rative will, of course, in every essential point of view, be 
 considered as attributable to the character to whom it 
 refers. But, as he is not conscious that it contains any 
 thing which an impartial biographer would suppress, 
 and, as he is confident, that the severest scrutiny can detect 
 no omission for which any motive of interest or subterfuge 
 can be assigned, it is matter of slight importance, he con- 
 ceives, who is the narrator, or in what affinity he stands to 
 the object of his narration. 
 
 One preliminary observation is, however, necessary. It 
 is The Man, and not The Politician, that inhere delineated. 
 The disciple of the Muses ; not The Lecturer and Leader 
 •of Popular Societies now no more. 
 
 On these topics nothing will here be found beyond what 
 has appeared necessary to connect the series of events. It 
 is not even attempted to vindicate the public conduct of 
 the individual from the misrepresentations of party 
 animosity : for- political discussion would ill accord with 
 the character and contents of the ensuing volume : and the 
 time is not yet come when the exertions which have been 
 the object of these misrepresentations can be faithfully emV 
 
ii Prefatory Memoir. 
 
 blasoned, without suspicion of sinister motive, or dan- 
 ger of inflammation. To Time therefore he relinquishes the 
 refutation of the calumnies that, in this respect, have been 
 propagated against him ; believing that the prejudices they 
 excited are already subsiding : and, satisfying himself with 
 living down those slanders, he looks forward, with confidence, 
 to the season when (whatever may be thought of his poli- 
 tical theories, or the means adopted for their promulgation) 
 the candid and thinking part of mankind, who judge of the 
 probable by what is proved, will, at least, acknowledge, 
 that it was impossible he should ever have been actuated by 
 the motives, or have aimed at the objects that have 
 sometimes been attributed to him. Not indeed that He 
 pledges himself always to leave the record of these facts in 
 the present imperfect state. During seven years of his life 
 it has been his fortune sometimes to stand connected, and 
 sometimes to contend, with men relative to whose real con- 
 duct and characters posterity cannot fail to be interested ; 
 and if other more imperious duties do not prevent, he will 
 feel himself bound to leave behind him (perhaps as a sole 
 legacy to his offspring) an unsophisticated detail of those 
 transactions 
 
 " All which he saw, and part of which he was." 
 In the mean time (for peace sake^— and for the sake of 
 his unoffending family) he is desirous that the politician 
 should be forgotten ; and that, till the prejudices of party 
 shall subside into the candour of unimpassioned appreciation, 
 he should henceforth be known and noticed (as here he is 
 introduced) only as a candidate for poetical and moral re- 
 putation. 
 
 John Thelwall is descended from a Saxon family of 
 that name, many centuries ago settled in the north of Wales. 
 A branch of that family afterwards removed to Crosby in 
 Lancashire, where they enjoyed some landed property, 
 
Prefatory Memoir. iii 
 
 Walter Thelwall (the Grandfather of the present John) 
 was a Roman Catholic by persuasion, and a surgeon by pro- 
 fession. He was employed in that capacity in the royal navy 
 (probably in the Spanish war of 1/18) and the ship on board 
 of which he served was captured by the enemy. This was 
 the commencement of a series of adventures, which involved 
 eventually the loss of his real estate : for the surgeon on 
 board the capturing vessel being killed in the engagement, 
 together with his assistant mate, Walter accepted the vacant 
 office, and was guilty (if guilt it were) of. curing the wounds 
 of his enemies as well as of his friends. Whether this con- 
 duct would, in equity or justice, have involved him in the 
 penalties of high treason, it is not necessary to enquire t 
 certain it is that, thenceforward, he never ventured to lay 
 claim to the inheritance of his fathers. But as the blood 
 was never attainted during his life-time, and as circum- 
 stances afterwards arose that offered a clue to the conse- 
 quent unlegalised assumption, the property might in all pro- 
 bability have been redeemed, during the minority of his son, 
 but for the selfish apathy of certain relations, in whom the 
 power and the opportunity of exertion alone existed. 
 
 Walter did not return to England till after the restoration 
 of peace. He then settled in his professional capacity at 
 Northampton ; married a lady of the name of Hinchliff ; 
 and about the year 1733 died intestate. He left behind him 
 an only son, of the name of Joseph, then only two years 
 old, and a young widow who, by a second marriage, and 
 some subsequent acts of imprudence, suffered the personal 
 property (which appears to have been considerable) to be 
 alienated in as irregular a way as the real had formerly been. 
 
 Joseph was fostered by his maternal grand-mother ; who 
 then (blind from the decay of years) resided in the neigh- 
 bourhood of Leeds, in Yorkshire ; where he received a clas- 
 sical education. He was afterwards a silk-mercer in Lon- 
 don ; and in his neighbourhood and sphere of connection, 
 
iv Prefatory Memoir. 
 
 was well known, and well respected, as a man diligent in 
 his profession, punctual in his dealings, and domestic in his 
 habits. In disposition he was frank and cheerful ; and 
 tho warm in his temper, mild and gentle in his manners : 
 he passed thro the varied scenes of life without contention— 
 a friend where he could be one ; the enemy of no human 
 being. He was several years in partnership with his uncles, 
 the Hinchliffs of Henrietta Street, mercers to His Majesty's 
 Wardrobe. Thence he afterwards removed to King-Street, 
 Covent Garden ; where he died in his 42d year ; while the 
 person who is the subject of these memoirs was but about 
 ten years of age. 
 
 Some time before his death a circumstance occurred 
 which seemed to promise, at least to his family, a restora- 
 tion of part of the property of which his infancy had been 
 so illicitly deprived. Baron Page (the second husband of 
 his inconsiderate mother) who had procured the irregular 
 transfer of the personal estate, after a lapse of seven or 
 eight and thirty years, in some start of compunction or ca- 
 price, called upon him two or three times, and acknow- 
 ledged the subsisting relationship. He took some notice of 
 the three then surviving children of his injured son-in-law ; 
 enquired very particularly their respective names and ages, 
 and minuted them down in his pocket book. But his vi- 
 sits terminated as abruptly as they began, even without any 
 communication of his place of residence ; and neither the 
 property nor the mysterious visitor were heard of any 
 more. 
 
 Of the three children above mentioned, John is the 
 youngest ; and no-w the only surviving son. He was born 
 oil the 27th of July, 1/64, in Chandois-street, in the pa- . 
 rish of St. Paul Covent*- Garden ; and was baptised and v 
 educated hi the religion of the Church of England, which 
 both his parents professed: his relation, the present Tho- 
 mas HitichlifF, gold refiner to the Bank, being one of his 
 sponsors at The Font. 
 
Prefatory Memoir. v 
 
 His father had a house at Lambeth,- where the family 
 mostly resided till within a year or two of the death of 
 that parent. At an academy in that neighbourhood he receiv- 
 ed the first rudiments of his education, under the heavy 
 hand of the Rev. Mr. Pierce. He was afterwards some 
 years under the care of the late Mr. Dick, of Hart-street, 
 Covent-Garden ; of whose ferocious and brutal severity he 
 was never able to speak but with vehement indignation ; 
 and of whom almost all that he learnt was to glory in re- 
 turning from the severest castigations without a tear. At 
 length, he was removed to another day school in St. Mar- 
 tin 's-lane, where, at first, he made considerable progress ; 
 particularly in a branch of education into which he had 
 put himself forward without consulting his friends. But, 
 for some time after the death of his father, his mind seems 
 to have passed under a cloud ; which was attended with a 
 correspondent debility of constitution : and the symptoms 
 were considerably aggravated by the usual remedy of pe- 
 dagogues. This was not the only season of his boyhood 
 during which his tardiness and apparent ineptitude occa- 
 sioned him to be considered as of a slow and even feeble 
 mind. 
 
 From his preceptor, in St. Martin's Lane, he was ulti- 
 mately removed to a boarding-school at High gate : where, 
 if he got nothing else, he at least recovered his health and 
 his adventurous vivacity. The latter of these gave him 
 a sort of sway and lead in the school, which, as it was 
 not a little flattering to his vanity, so it ultimately called 
 forth the energies of his mind, in spite of the sottish ig- 
 norance of an Hibernian pedagogue, whose only qualifica- 
 tion as a schoolmaster (his good nature excepted) was that 
 of being to' ally unfit for any other calling. Whatever pro- 
 gress, therefore, he made at this seminary is principally to 
 be attributed to his having been left, with little restraint, 
 and no terror upon his mind, to follow the bent and bias of 
 his own inclinations. 
 
vi Prefatory Memoir, 
 
 From this censure, however, must be excepted a period of 
 about three months; during which time a young clergyman 
 of the name of Harvey was usher there; his intellectual 
 obligations to whom have left an indelible impression 
 on his mind : an impression ever to be cherished while 
 Memory shall be able to appreciate the past, or Friendship 
 to discriminate its objects. 
 
 This instructor proceeded not upon the usual plans 
 of tuition. He made himself the conversational com- 
 panion, not the austere dictator, of the youths committed 
 to his care ; and, remarkably lax in every thing that looked 
 like scholastic discipline, directed his attention rather to 
 multiplying the ideas, than cramping the limbs or overaw- 
 ing the faculties of his pupils. In reading he suffered 
 them to form themselves into classes ; and to choose what- 
 ever books they could agree upon : and the attention he 
 paid to the management of the voice and lungs (which 
 in the instance of Thelwall, were particularly feeble and 
 defective) were not less beneficial to health, than to ora- 
 torical, and, ultimately, to intellectual improvement. In 
 short, all that the author of the ensuing volume ever derived 
 from school instruction he owes to Harvey. His other tu- 
 tors did but impede, by injudicious management, the pro- 
 gress of his mind. 
 
 This young man left the school sometime before Thel- 
 wall was taken from it. But he had sowed in the mind 
 of his pupil the seeds of literary ambition. After the de- 
 parture of Harvey, indeed, the shoots appeared to wither : 
 but they revived again, in defiance of unfavourable cir- 
 cumstances, and the incapacity of those by whom the cul- 
 tivation should have been assisted. Before he was taken 
 from school (which was some months before he had com- 
 pleted his fourteenth year) he began to enter with so much 
 ardour on the business of self-tuition, that nothing but a 
 continuance of the- leisure for improvement, and a few pro- 
 
Prefatory Memoir. vii 
 
 perly selected books, seemed necessary to enable him to 
 make considerable progress. 
 
 These opportunities were, however, refused. He was 
 called home to different scenes and different pursuits, and 
 he did not quit the studies he was beginning so much to re- 
 lish without some remonstrance, and many tears. 
 
 With resject to the pursuits of life, his first and very early 
 attachment was to The Arts ; and his father, who formed 
 great expectations of him, from the activity of his mind, 
 had fed his ambition with the hope of making him an his- 
 torical painter. But his father was now no more ; and he 
 was left in the power of those who were not capable of the 
 same enlarged and liberal views. Sorely against his own 
 inclination, and in violent opposition to every indication of 
 his mind, he was placed behi .d the shop counter, where 
 he continued till he was turned of sixteen. 
 
 During this time he occupied his leisure, and, in fact, 
 much of that time which ought to have been devoted to bu- 
 siness, in the. perusal of such books as the neighbouring cir- 
 culating library could furnish. In novels, indeed, (which 
 generally constitute the bulk of such collections) he was so 
 far from taking delight, that he had a sort of prejudiced 
 contempt for them ; and those of Fielding were almost the 
 only ones to which he could bring himself to give a patient 
 perusal. Plays, poetry, and history, were his favourites ; 
 and moral philosophy, metaphysics, and even divinity, wer* 
 not entirely neglected. That he might lose no opportunity 
 of perusing these various compositions, it was his constant 
 practice to read as he went along the streets, upon whatever 
 business he might be employed : a practice which, origi- 
 nating in a sort of necessity, settled into habit, and was not 
 entirely laid aside till his political exertions brought him into 
 notoriety, and produced several remonstrances from his 
 friends on its singularity and apparent affectation. 
 
 But a distaste for business was not the only cause of his 
 discontent, tie had the misfortune to live in a state of per- 
 
viii Prefatory Memoir. 
 
 petual discord with an unhappy brother : whose Tenement 
 and tyrannical temper was aggravated by a disease (the epi- 
 lepsy) notorious for its ravages on the intellectual system, 
 and by the progress of which his faculties, at an after period, 
 became entirely deranged. 
 
 The ardent and independent spirit, who is the object of 
 these memoirs, found the yoke or this tyranny, and the 
 stripes and violence with which it was enforced, utterly in- 
 supportable. Circumstances also arose out of some other 
 parts of the conduct of the elder brother^ which made the 
 oppressor no less desirous of a separation than the oppressed 
 himself. John, accordingly, turned his attention again to 
 his favourite art ; and a painter of some eminence was ap- 
 plied to : but the mistaken economy of his mother made 
 the premium and expences an insurmountable bar. He 
 then made a fruitless effort to get upon the stage : but his 
 written application to the late Mr. Colman was answered 
 only by a moral expostulation against the design, and a 
 declaration that he had no room in his company for any 
 new adventurer. 
 
 It is probable, indeed, that Thelwall would not have 
 been so easily repulsed, if he had not been suspicious that 
 his want of figure might be a bar to his success in the more 
 eligible walks of the profession : for, altho the notions he 
 had imbibed of the kind of morals that generally prevail in 
 professed Spouting Clubs, prevented him from forming any 
 connection with those ranting seminaries, his rage for thea- 
 tricals was excessive. He was perpetually painting scenes* 
 fabricating theatrical decorations, and rehearsing plays and 
 interludes, at the houses of his young companions^— and at 
 his own. In one instance he had influence enough with his 
 mother to obtain permission for converting the shop (as he 
 had frequently done the school-room) into a stage ; where 
 he and his companions, to a considerable audience, per- 
 formed the Tragedy of Barbarossav 'with his own abridg- 
 ments and alterations. 
 
Prefatory Memoir. ix 
 
 But tho disappointed alike in his views upon the arts and 
 fcpon the stage, his situation at home was not to be endu- 
 red ; and rather than live in that terrible state of domestic 
 discord which tore his over-irritable nerves, and embittered 
 every moment of his life, he yielded to the proposal of be^ 
 ing apprenticed to an eminent master taylor at the west end 
 of the town; 
 
 This was one of those projects of narrow and miscalcu^ 
 lating policy by which the dictates of Nature are so fre- 
 quently violated, and the prospects and happiness of youth 
 are so inhumanly blighted : the specious prospects of pecu- 
 niary advantage being substituted in place of those more 
 enlarged and generous views that result from a due consi- 
 deration of the biases of taste and character ; and; by which, 
 eventually, even those interested views would oiten be less 
 effectually thwarted. The calculation, in the present in- 
 stance, was that, from the intimate connection between the 
 two trades, the brothers would be enabled to play into each 
 other's hands, as it is called, and promote each other's in- 
 terests ! It ended as such projects usually do. 
 
 Young Thelwall had now changed his residence, and his 
 nominal profession ; but his pursuits were still the same. 
 The shopboard, like the shop counter, was a seat, not of 
 business but of study. Plays (particularly tragedies) were 
 perpetually in his hands and in his mouth. From thence 
 he soared to epic poetry ; devoured with insatiable avidity 
 Pope's translation of Homer, and committed several hun- 
 dred verses to memory ; meditating the herculean labour 
 of getting the whole Iliad by heart. His opportunities of 
 study were, however, so inadequate to his wishes, that he 
 even carried a wax taper in his pocket, that he might read 
 as he went along the streets by night. 
 
 It is not, however, to be supposed that his change of 
 situation was productive of no temporary change of charac- 
 ter. While the treaty was in agitation for initiating 
 him in his ikvourite Art, his hopes, his expectations, 
 
x "Prefatory Memoir. 
 
 his views had been considerably expanded. New scenes 
 had opened upon his imagination : a more liberal establish- 
 ment, pursuits and studies congenial to his long fostered 
 wishes, and the prospect of mingling in circles of society, 
 more correspondent to his taste and turn of mind than those 
 to which he had hitherto been confined, altogether had 
 formed an association somewhat intoxicating ; and had pe- 
 culiarly disqualified him for the present reverse. So that, at 
 first, his mind appears to have been stunned by its fall from 
 the height of recent expectations to the depth of such abase- 
 ment. As his animal spirits revived from the shock, cu- 
 riosity, for a while, and the youthful love of novelty, sti- 
 mulated him to mingle, occasionally, in the mirth, and in 
 the amusements of the class of men, with whom he was of 
 necessity surrounded : — and he found the study not entirely 
 uninteresting. Tho much more gross in their exterior, and 
 less polished in their language and manners, he was far from 
 finding these men more essentially ignorant than the class 
 with which he had hitherto been familiar. For Condition, 
 so decisive as to the deportment of individuals, does not, by 
 the same scale, dispense intelligence. On the contrary, it 
 wiil, perhaps, be found, upon accurate investigation, that 
 the manufacturing and working classes, in large towns and 
 populous neighbourhoods, (those, at least, whose vocations 
 are of a gregarious and somewhat sedentary nature) are 
 much better informed than the thriving shopkeepers of our 
 trading towns and cities. The former have their common 
 hive, as it were, to which each brings his stock, however 
 small, of intellectual attainment, where it grows by copart- 
 nership, and is enjoyed in common ; while the other se- 
 cluded, for so many hours of the day, from all conversation, 
 but what relates to the mere object of his barter, toils, in- 
 sulated, like the SolHary Bee, storing up his profits in his 
 particular cell : or if he indulges association when the appli- 
 cation of the day is over, it is only to relax the overwearied 
 fibre, or renew exhausted stimulus with the pipe, the bot- 
 tle, or the bowl. 
 
Prefatory Memoir. xi 
 
 It would perhaps excite a smile were the instances of un- 
 expected erudition, which the shopboard occasionally exhi- 
 bitted to be specified in this place. Suffice it to say that the 
 experience of Thelwall was not singular in this respect. — 
 The late Mr. Dennis, a well-known collector of books in the 
 metropolis, has been frequently heard to declare, that he has 
 even sold a Greek Testament to a bricklayer's labourer, with 
 a hod upon his back ; but that there was no class of peo- 
 ple so rarely seen in his repository as opulent shopkeepers. 
 One thing, however, was lamentably observable : — 
 it was, that the rare and accidental advantages of superior 
 education and attainment, secured to such of these men as 
 happened to possess them, few of the supposed concomi- 
 tant privileges, of exterior deportment, or of phraseology ; 
 and that tho they might display the shrewdness and fluency 
 of remark that result from reading and information, the 
 language of the most erudite was nearly as vulgar and un- 
 grammatical as that of the most uninformed. — So imperious 
 is habitual example. So comparative a nullity is individual 
 attainment, without the quickening influence of intelligent, 
 and polished society. 
 
 Neither was it found that those who were thus accidentally- 
 gifted, (tho not the least able in their calling) were most to 
 be commended for sobriety or application. But the reasons 
 were obvious. Men conscious of superior endowments, 
 submit with impatience to any task which they perceive to 
 be common only to those, who, in such respects, are in- 
 finitely below them. They submit only when the stings of 
 necessity impel them. On the other hand, they are courted 
 and flattered, by such around them as are capable of dis- 
 cerning their superiority ; and are perpetually drawn aside 
 into pleasure and intemperance, by those who are willing 
 to treat them with liquor, for the sake of their company 
 and conversation. In short, it is the insulation of his know- 
 ledge, not the knowledge itself, that corrupts the informed 
 mechanic. Generalize the information, and the case is re- 
 
Xli Prefatory Memoir, 
 
 Versed. If universally concurring testimony may be be- 
 °d, the fishermen of Iceland (where every man is an his- 
 and the peasantry of Scotland (where national schools 
 ise-g portion of intelligence thro every hamlet) are neither 
 d ent nor more profligate than those of certain parts 
 Valesi where scarcely one in ten can either write or 
 Add to which, that wherever, in such situations, 
 superior endowments happen to blend with application 
 and discretion, they soon become transplanted and con- 
 founded with those of the classes above : the subordinate sta- 
 tions lose the example and argument of their conduct, and 
 the rule remains to be drawn from those who, perhaps, are 
 on?y to be considered as exceptions : for intellect is of a 
 buoyant quality ; and, however depressed, will, generally, 
 find its' level in society ; except where moral indiscretions, 
 or peculiar proscription conspire to hold it down. 
 
 But the study of the rude page of Human Nature from 
 which these reflections are drawn, could furnish only brief 
 occupation to the researches of an active mind. Curiosity 
 was soon succeeded by disgust ; and from the characters 
 that surrounded him, and the scenes (both of business and 
 of pleasure) in which they were engaged, Thelwall turned 
 indignantly away. Fancy and the Muse invited to more 
 alluring studies ; and he sought his accustomed solace in 
 the exuberant descriptions of Thomson, or the sublime pa- 
 thos of the Bard, who ' 
 
 << Into the Heaven of Heavens presurh'd to soar 
 " An earthly guest, and drew empyreal air." 
 These studies were, also, variegated by rude attempts at 
 composition. During the year and half that he continued 
 in this situation, he altered one of the plays of Shakespear ; 
 planned an Epic Poem (on the subject of The Julian Inva- 
 sion) of which he composed some verses; and made consi- 
 derate progress in compiling a History of England ; for 
 which (still remembering his attachment to The Arts) he 
 made several rude drawings, as embellishments of the' more 
 
Prefatory Memoir, xiii 
 
 striking incidents : — Circumstances here only mentioned to 
 shew how ill the aspiring activity of his mind conformed to 
 his situation : not from any wish to rescue from merited 
 oblivion the early efforts of an untutored mind — too many 
 of which, already, (in the season of youthful vanity and 
 inexperience, ■ it may also be added, and of necessity) 
 
 have been rashly committed to the press. 
 
 The ill state of his health (for he was subject to frequent 
 attacks of asthma and inflammations of the lungs) obliged 
 him to spend much of his time at his mother's country 
 house : a circumstance very favourable to his elective pur- 
 suits : and such was his indignation and abhorrence of his 
 trade, that he considered the return of health as a calamity, 
 because it restored him to the shop-bo,ard. 
 
 At length, weary of sordid confinement, and irritated by 
 one of those mortifying insults to which a lad of his turn of 
 mind, in such a situation, of course, was incessantly ex- 
 posed, he rose, one evening, suddenly from his work, ran 
 to his master, and telling him, in plain terms, that he could 
 not endure to stay any longer at such a trade, begged that 
 he would permit him to go home. The master, in a sudden 
 storm of surprise and fury, gave his consent ; and Thel- 
 wall departed, accordingly. But he went not to his mo- 
 ther's house. He foresaw what would be the consequence 
 of such a step ; and to avoid those tears and entreaties, 
 which he knew he was incompetent to resist, he concealed 
 himself at the house of an acquaintance, till he had pro- 
 cured from his parent, by letter, a solemn engagement not 
 to endeavour to persuade him to return to the situation he 
 had left. 
 
 He now made a third effort in behalf of his favourite Art ; 
 and waited personally upon several painters of eminence, 
 with specimens of his drawings, in hopes of recommending 
 himself to some situation under them. Among the rest he 
 called upon Benjamin West, who received him with a very 
 polite attention, and recommended him, as the most eligi- 
 
xiv Prefatory Memoir* 
 
 ble mode of study, not to put himself under any particu- 
 lar artist (who would, of course, require a very considera- 
 ble premium), but to enter himself at the Royal Academy, 
 procure medallions and casts from the antique, to copy from, 
 observe the manner and execution of different artists, and 
 exercise his own judgment in what might appear worthy of 
 imitation in them all. 
 
 Thelwall would have been very happy to have fol- 
 lowed this advice : but, unfortunately, it was not in his 
 power. The affairs of his family were rapidly on the 
 decline. The extravagance and misconduct of his brother 
 had run through the whole property, which, at one time, 
 was not inconsiderable, and plunged them into embarrass- 
 ment and ruin. 
 
 The father, when he died, had left no will ; but, in the pre- 
 s nee of those friends who attended his deathbed, he direc- 
 ted Mrs. Thelwall to dispose of the stock and business 
 altogether ; to place the property he left behind him in the 
 public -funds, make use of the interest for the support of 
 herself, during her life-time, and for such assitance as might 
 be requiste for bringing up and establishing the children, 
 and to divide the principal equally between the daughter 
 and two sons, at her death. 
 
 Unfortunately no part of this direction was attended to. 
 The business was thought too lucrative to be relinquished. 
 The manufacturers being consulted, advised the widow to 
 continue it ; and it was continued, till that mismanagement 
 which had been foreseen by the deceased, ran through every 
 thing. And yet, these very manufacturers, when the conse- 
 quences partly of their own cupidity had taken place, seized 
 upon every thing, by a deed of assignment, and left the ob- 
 ject of these memoirs, who had never been consulted as to 
 the hazarding of his proportion of the property, and was 
 much too young to have been a party in the transaction, ab- 
 solutely destitute, without any attention whatever to his 
 equitable claim on the property his father left him. 
 
Prefatory Memoir. XV 
 
 In this hopeless situation, those maternal tears ajid solici- 
 tations, against which he had taken such precautions, never- 
 theless assailed him : and his resolution (as he had foreseen) 
 was not proof against them. He made another effort to re- 
 concile himself to the disgusting trade he had left, tho under 
 arrangements of less dependance and subjection. In this se- 
 cond experiment he persevered only a few weeks. Gloom and 
 dejection seized upon his spirits ; hut his resolution assumed 
 a decisive tone. He burst again from his sordid fetters, and 
 determined to endure all the coasequences which his disas- 
 trous circumstances seemed to threaten, rather than submit 
 to a situation so irreconcileable to his tastes, his habits, and 
 his wishes. 
 
 It was now that a gentleman of The Chancery Bar, who 
 had married his sister, persuaded him to turn his attention 
 to The Law ; in which it was thought his talents could not 
 fail of procuring his advancement. 
 
 This proposal had been made to him before : but he had 
 immediately repelted it : preferring even the situation in 
 which, for a while, we have seen him placed, to a profes- 
 sion from which his feelings and principles alike revolted. 
 But he had now no other resource. He had tried the alter- 
 native, and found it insupportable. The objections to the 
 present proposal, accordingly, lost something of their 
 weight ; and he suffered his ambition to be roused (as is 
 usually attempted on these occasions — when a generous re- 
 pugnance is to be overcome) by narratives of the wonder- 
 ful things that have been done in a profession, whence men 
 have advanced, from scratching parchment in an attorney's 
 office, to dispensing lavvs upon the bench, or framing them 
 in the senate. 
 
 His brother-in-law took him, accordingly, into his house ; 
 and, by his means, he was articled to John Impey, a very 
 respectable . attorney of Inner-TemplerLane ; — the well- 
 known editor of the " Instructor Clericalis." It was not 
 however for The Roll, but for The Bar. that he was de- 
 
xvi "Prefatory Memoir, 
 
 signed ; though his circumstances were thought to render 
 this mode of practical initiation necessary ; and when he gave 
 his consent to the project, it was under promise of being 
 entered at one of The Inns of Court, to prepare his way 
 for the more eligible walks of the Profession. In this pro« 
 mise the forementioned manufacturers, 1 when they took the 
 effects of the family into their hands, thought it decent to 
 join : but they never thought necessary to fulfil it : and 
 when his Mother, with a small sum of money that after- 
 wards came into her possession, offered to supply the de- 
 fault, Thelwall would not suffer her to make the sacrifice. 
 
 At this profession, however, he continued three years 
 and a half; studying the Poets and Philosophers more than 
 Cases and Reports ; and writing Elegies and Legendary 
 Tales, more frequently than Declarations on the Case. 
 During part of this time, he resided, (together with his mo- 
 ther) in a small house in Staples-Inn-Buildings ; from 
 whence they afterwards removed to a little rustic mansion 
 at a small distance from the town ; which had been built as 
 a sleeping place for his father. 
 
 This was in reality the most miserable stage of his exis- 
 tence—his recent exile and aggravated afflictions, in an in- 
 hospitable region, excepted. His distaste " for the drudgery 
 of servitude" {to adopt the language of the first law book 
 that was put into his hands) " and the manual labour of 
 copying the trash of an office," was heightened by his ab- 
 horrence of the principles and practices of the profession : 
 tho, under a man of so fair and honourable a character as 
 Impey, he had every opportunity of seeing them in the 
 most favourable point of view. — In short, it was not the 
 Professor, but The Profession that revolted his feelings; and 
 he has ever regarded the former as infinitely less censura- 
 ble than the latter. Ignorant Prejudice, indeed judges by 
 another rule. It perceives only gross effects, in their last 
 stage of operation ; and condemns individuals, while insti- 
 tutions are alone to blame. From the period here spoken 
 
Prefatory Memoir i xvii 
 
 of, to the present time (with exception only to the season 
 of his sojourn among the rocks and dingles of Wales) it has 
 been the lot of Thelwall to associate much with persons of 
 this profession ; and he has, by no means, found that in- 
 stances of virtue and disinterestedness are more rare in them 
 than among other men: while, in liberality of sentiment 
 and feeling, they are, perhaps, only surpassed by the vota- 
 ries of medical science. In short (in the Metropolis and 
 more civilized neighbourhoods, at least) the comparative li- 
 berality of their education, and the expansion of heart, 
 necessarily acquired by mingling in the circles of intelligent 
 and diversified society, counteract the obvious tendencies of 
 the dogmas and chicanery into .which they are initiated; 
 and, in spite of their professional trammels, very many indeed, 
 of the Professors of the Law, are ornaments to their coun- 
 try, and to human nature. 
 
 To those trammels, however, Thelwall could not submit. 
 His objections to the profession itself were radical and in- 
 surmountable. Prone and habituated, upon every subject, 
 to give unreserved utterance to the existing convictions of 
 his heart, he looked forward, with indignation, to the pros- 
 pect of letting out his hand, or his voice, to venal pleading ■ 
 — of making The Fee and the Brief the major and minor 
 of moral proposition ; and enquiring, upon every occasion, 
 not, what was true ; but, how the Cause of his client might 
 be best supported. If the end was objectionable ; the means 
 were even abhorrent. Every part of the rotine thro which, 
 in his noviciate, he was .obliged to pass, was" perfectly irre- 
 concilable to feelings which he could not prevail upon him- 
 self to suppress: " feelings, which his enthusiasm per- 
 suaded him (how truly let others decide) were the badges 
 of intellect, and the distinctions of virtue. 
 
 His unhappiness was, at this time, still further imbittered 
 
 by an attack made upon his innocence, by a person with 
 
 whom Impey had entered into partnership ; and who, in 
 
 consequence of the unreserved indignation with which 
 
 c 
 
xviii "Prefatory Memoir, 
 
 Thelwall exposed his infamy, and the publicity of a train 
 of similar circumstances, which consequent investigation 
 brought to light, put a period to his existence with a razor. 
 
 This occurrence completed Thelwairs disgust. He lin- 
 gered, indeed, at the profession for a few months longer; 
 chained down by the anxious entreaties of a mother and a 
 sister : but, at last, he quitted the office, in the same abrupt 
 way that he had left the shop board ; and the articles of in- 
 denture, were cancelled by mutual agreement. 
 
 One instant there was, and never but one, when he re- 
 pented of this resolution. It was* while waiting at the 
 Judges chambers, to pass through the necessary forms of 
 release. During this delay, the peril and rashness of re- 
 nouncing a profession, so nearly in his power; and the de- 
 solation of prospect that was spread before him, rushed so 
 strongly upon his mind, that if Impey, whose conduct on m 
 the occasion was equally friendly and honourable, had 
 then happened to repeat his exhortations of further de- 
 liberation, it is more than probable, that Thelwall would 
 have returned to his misery and his desk. But happily (for 
 so he still considers it) the temptation was not thrown in 
 his way. 
 
 We now behold him, in his twenty second year, launch- 
 ing into the world as a literary adventurer: without a profes- 
 sion, without fortune, almost without friends ; and, what 
 was worse than all, without the advantages of a regular 
 education, or so much as one literary acquaintance, tie 
 had an aged mother leaning upon him for support ; and, 
 shortly after, that very brother, also, whose misconduct had 
 been the ruin of the family ; and who, by the progress of 
 his disease, was rendered incapable of supporting himself. 
 
 Through all these discouragements, however, he struggled 
 with enthusiastic perseverance. He published, by subscrip- 
 tion, in two volumes, "Poems on various Subjects ; M 
 which, tho blurred and degraded with innumerable delects, 
 resulting from the disadvantages he had been doomed to 
 
Prefatory Memoir. six 
 
 struggle with, were acknowledged by the Critical Review- 
 ers, (See Vol. LXIV. Oct. 1787 J to contain " indication* 
 " of an original and bold imagination." There were other 
 Journals, indeed, that did not speak so favourably ; but 
 the claims of feeling and moral tendency were universally 
 admitted : and if these puerile effusions administered not to 
 Fame, they introduced the author to some truly valuable 
 friendships. Among these must not be forgotten the late 
 Frances Cline (mother of the justly esteemed and celebrat- 
 ed Anatomical Lecturer :) a venerable female! whose decisive 
 virtues, whose superior understanding, and cheerful ener- 
 gies of mind, rendered her frequent conversations equally 
 instructive and interesting ; while her solicitous kindness 
 contributed, on many occasions, to the promotion of his 
 interests and welfare. 
 
 He became, also, a conductor and constant speaker at 
 some of the public Debating Societies ; wrote occasionally 
 for Magazines ; was appointed editor, of one of those mis- 
 cellanies— the whole matter of which, indeed, was selected 
 and furnished by himself; and sometimes instructed a pupil 
 or two, at their own houses, in some of the ordinary branches 
 of education. 
 
 It appears, by his examinations of witnesses, upon The 
 Trials, that, for some years, these various exertions did not 
 bring him inan income of much more than fifty pounds 
 a year ; with which he supported himself, with the incum- 
 brances already mentioned, in a small but comfortable 
 house and garden near Walcot-place, Lambeth ; and he 
 continued, even in these contracted circumstances, to en- 
 large his sphere of eligible connections. It appears, also,, 
 from the testimony of some of these (as respectable as ever 
 appeared in a Court of Justice on such an occasion) that, 
 in the midst of his necessities, his moral character was 
 never tainted even by the suspicion of a dishonourable action. 
 
 As he became better known, his circumstances gradually 
 improved. Bis facility, and versatility, of composition re- 
 
XX Prefatory Memoir. 
 
 commended him to the notice of some persons who had 
 frequent opportunities of enabling him to turn his talents 
 to advantage : and he was beginning to maintain his fami- 
 ly in comfort. 
 
 As the resources of literary vocation are precarious, this 
 progressive improvement in his circumstances was liable to 
 occasional interruptions. But there was a period of some 
 continuance during which his various engagements seemed 
 to promise an income of between two and three hundred a 
 year. He accordingly thought himself at liberty to follow the 
 dictates of his heart ; and, on the anniversary of his birth- 
 day, in 1791, he was married to the Stella of the ensuing 
 Poems. The ceremony was performed at Oakham, in Rut- 
 land, by the Rev. Richard Williams ; who, In consequence 
 of having seen him sign his name in the register, was en- 
 abled, afterwards, to swear, with such critical accuracy, 
 " to his Tees and Aitches." 
 
 Thelwall now took up his residence in the neighbour- 
 hood of Guy's and St. Thomas's Hospitals; where he was 
 still accompanied by his mother ; who continued to reside 
 with him till the time of her death; an event that took 
 place shortly after The State Trials ; and which was, proba- 
 bly, hastened by the anxieties of that season. The pro- 
 gress of that derangement of health and intellect already 
 alluded to, had previously obliged him to resign his brother 
 to a situation of more security. 
 
 Several of the pupils who attended the Hospitals were 
 here his occasional inmates ; between some of whom and 
 himself there grew up a friendship, which neither time nor 
 the mutations of public opinion afterwards eradicated. One 
 of these, Edwin Le Grand, of Canterbury, (whose early 
 dissolutison has been a loss to the profession, and to so- 
 ciety) was his companion in many an eccentric ramble; and 
 is one of the characters in " The Peripatetic." 
 
 Among the professional youth with whom he now asso- 
 ciated, were several West Indians : and if their conversation 
 
Prefatory Memoir, xxi 
 
 and manners did not give him a very favourable impres- 
 sion of the Creolean character, his observation of that ef- 
 feminate, or rather childish vivacity, that unfeeling and ty- 
 rannical vehemence, and that sort of hoggish voluptuous- 
 ness, so frequently predominated amongst them, produced 
 those Delineations of West Indian Manners, which, in a late 
 anonimous publication, were considered as the sketches of 
 an author, " evidently acquainted with other countries 
 *' and with other scenes." 
 
 His situation, at this time, indeed, was not unfavourable 
 to the study of human nature. It was no uninstructive 
 spectacle to observe the gradations and transitions from the 
 rustic bashfulness of the stripling, just emancipated from 
 the village pestil, to the confident prodigality of The Hos- 
 pital Buck ; and no uninteresting one, to mark the pro- 
 gressive improvement of The Few ; who separating them- 
 selves from a dissipated group, by habits of application and 
 observance, qualified themselves to excel in their respec- 
 tive spheres, and bounded forwards to. the honours and 
 emoluments of the most respectable of professions. 
 
 It was about this time that Thelwall published " The 
 Peripatetic," above mentioned: a medly production of 
 verse and prose, in three volumes ; in which he details, 
 at large (under the Character of Sylvanus Theophrastus) 
 several of his juvenile adventures and propensities. 
 
 The impression made by this work on Holcroft, and 
 some other literary characters, with whom the author now 
 became acquainted, occasioned them, repeatedly and ear- 
 nestly, to advise him to turn his attention to Dramatic com- 
 position, and to that alone. The free use that had, appar- 
 ently, been made of some of his former efforts, in this 
 way, gave some countenance to this advice ; nor is it im- 
 probable that, in his growing state of reputation and con- 
 nection, he might then have procured, with facility, that 
 sort of introduction which would have secured a fair trial 
 to any work he might have produced of that description. 
 
xxii Prefatory Memoir, 
 
 On his establishment in Southwark, he became a 
 constant attendant on the Lectures of Henry Cline, Dr. 
 Haighton, and other professors — several of whom pre- 
 sented him with tickets for their respective Courses. He was, 
 also, a frequent spectator in the operating and- dissecting 
 rooms ; and admitted a member of The Physical Society ; 
 to whom, on the 26th of January, 1793, he read, at the 
 Theatre in Guy's Hospital, his " Essay towards a defini- 
 " tion of Animal Vitality." For this (upon the motion 
 of Dr. Maclaurin) he received the following Letter of 
 thanks — the first that was ever voted to any member upon 
 such an occasion. 
 
 «' Theatre, Gny's Hospital, March 2, 1793. 
 " SIR, 
 
 " I am desired, by the Members of the Physical Society, 
 <f to return you their most sincere Thanks for your excellent 
 * c and very valuable Essay, towards a Definition of Animal 
 " Vitality, the Abilities you displayed during the discus- 
 " sion, and the instruction which this institution has re- 
 " ceived from your Assistance in the debates. 
 «' I am, SIR, &c. 
 
 " George Johnson, Secretary. 
 " J. Haighton, Prjeses." 
 " Mr. Thelwall, Wes- 
 
 " ton-Street, Borough." 
 
 It was, also, %moved, " That this testimony should be ac- 
 " companied- with a valuable present of Books," which 
 was overruled only by a very small majority, on a sugges- 
 tion of the unflourishing state of the Society's finances. 
 
 He was likewise appointed one of the Committee for re- 
 vising the Laws of that Institution ; and assisted in draw- 
 ing up the Code, by which it continues to be governed. But 
 when, towards the end of the fame year, he presented his 
 second paper, " On the Origin of Sensation," in which, 
 (without digression or allusion to other topics) precisely the 
 same train of ideas was pursued, and the phenomena of 
 
Prefatory Memoir* xxiii 
 
 mind were attempted to be explained upon principles purely 
 Physical, nothing could surpass the fury of opposition with 
 which he was assailed. Dr. Saunders, together with seve- 
 ral other leading men of the Hospitals, (who, like himself, 
 never shewed their heads in the Society upon any other oc- 
 casion) came down, in a mass, to interrupt the discussion; 
 and, from the language and earnestness exerted upon the 
 occasion, one would have thought that the existence of 
 theological and polical institutions had depended upon the 
 agitation of a question of physics, among a group of hospi- 
 tal pupils. In short, the paper, after having been read and 
 accepted, and discussed for three successive nights, was, by 
 the exertions of these gentlemen, voted out of the Society : 
 in consequence of which the author also withdrew himself 
 and his example was followed by several respectable mem- 
 bers. 
 
 But shis was the smallest of the evils to which he was 
 now. exposed, by the rising spirit of party animosity : for, 
 hurried away by the enthusiasm of the French Revolution, 
 he had plunged into the vortex of political contention—the 
 fruitful source of successve anxieties and misfortunes. 
 
 Thelwall's public career commenced at the debating soci- 
 ety at Coachmaker's Hall ; a seminary where Dallas, Gar- 
 row, and several others, who have since figured at the bar, 
 may be said to have taken, their oratorical degrees. 
 
 When he first came forward in that assembly he was but 
 about nineteen. From the circumstances in which we have 
 seen him placed, till that season of his life, it is not likely 
 that he should then have attained any very settled principles, 
 or accurately defined ideas, on the subject of politics. With. 
 respect to the questions, however, that agitated the public 
 mind (namely, the India Bill, and the dismission of the 
 Coalition Administration) he was a zealous ministerialist ; as 
 he was, afterwards, upon that of the Regency, and several 
 others, which, successively, occurred ; till the introduction 
 of the Tobacco Act, and ether Bills for the extension of the 
 Excise Laws. 
 
xxiv Prefatory Memoir, 
 
 The discussions on the subject of the Slave Trade, into 
 which he entered with an almost diseased enthusiasm, led 
 the way to very considerable changes in his political sen- 
 timents ; as they did, also, in those of many others : and, 
 in the new field of enquiry, which was opened by the 
 events of the French Revolution, he proceeded, step by 
 step, to those sentiments, his active exertions in the diffu- 
 sion of which are matters of such public notoriety. 
 
 But the circumstance that first gave dicisive direction to 
 those exertions was the Westminster Election, in 1790. Pre- 
 vious to the commencement of that Election, he had deli- 
 vered his sentiments, with great warmth, at The Debating 
 Society, in reprobation of the compact, by which the two 
 parties in the House of Commons had agreed, to share 
 (without contest) the represention of Westminster between 
 them ; and he had concluded his harangue with the wish 
 " that other Candidates, equally unconnected with both 
 " parties, would start in opposition to the compromise ; 
 " and that the electors would have the virtue to support 
 " them." The ensuing day informed him that his wishes, 
 in part, were realised : for he received from the Deputy 
 Returning Officer, an intimation that the election would 
 be contested, which was accompanied with the unexpected 
 offer of an appointment as one of the Poll-Clerks, on that 
 occasion: The temporary salary (which is four-and-twen- 
 ty shillings a day) was, of course, no unwelcome conside- 
 ration ; and he accepted it accordingly. — r— He accepted — 
 but he did not retain. 
 
 The celebrated John Horne Tooke was not, till that 
 time, otherwise known to Thelwall, than by his writings 
 Some of these, however, had secured his admiration : par- 
 ticularly the correspondence with Junius : in which he 
 had always considered Horne as no less superior in the force, 
 the justice, and the manliness of argument, than his anoni- 
 mous antagonist was in the ornamental graces of metaphor 
 and diction. In short, the enthusiasm of Thelwall caught 
 
"Prefatory Memoir. xxv 
 
 fire from such approximation ; and, unsolicited and unal- 
 lured, he threw up his profitable situation to indulge his 
 ardour in a laborious canvas, and in assisting at the com- 
 mittees of his favourite candidate. 
 
 This event, conspiring with the line of enquiry into 
 which his studies (from particular circumstances) had di- 
 verged, gave the fervour of his character that decisive di- 
 rection in which, for the greater part of the ensuing seven 
 years, it continued, almost uninterruptedly, to flow. He 
 withdrew himself from the Debating Societies, in disgust 
 of the frivolous topics, so frequently admitted for discus- 
 sion ; and he did not return but upon condition that their 
 enquiries should be exclusively confined to subjects of his- 
 tory and politics. Conformity with this regulation, soon 
 occasioned the debaters to be excluded from Coachmaker's 
 Hail. And when the King's Arms^ in Cornhill (to which 
 place the Society removed) was afterwards shut up, (in 
 Nov. 1792) by the connivance of Sir James Saunderson 
 and the intimidated landlord, Thelwall posted a sort of 
 proclamation, offering twenty guineas for the use of any 
 room, within the Jurisdiction of the City of London, for 
 one night, that the right of magisterial interference with 
 the freedom of popular discussion, might be fairly tried. 
 
 No such room, however, could be procured ; and when 
 one was obtained in the Borough, no person but himself 
 had the hardihood to take a public part amongst the throng 
 of police officers, who neglected no exertion to throw the 
 assembly into the utmost disordor. Thelwall, at once 
 chairman and speaker, preserved, however, his own calm- 
 ness and presence of mind, unmoved ; and, thereby, pre- 
 vented any actual riot, for the two hours during which 
 the debate should regularly have continued ; but when he 
 was about to conclude and dismiss the company, the dis- 
 turbers knocked out the candies, and overthrew the table, 
 upon which the chair and desk were placed ; and serious 
 consequences might have ensued, if the company had 
 
xxvi Prefatory Memoir* 
 
 not, interfered. A part of these, surrounding the police of- 
 ficers, kept them in a state of durance, in a coiner of 
 the room, while another <party conducted the debater to 
 his own house. 
 
 This circumstance produced the Political Lectures. As 
 Thelwall could find no persons, who, under the existing 
 circumstances, would engage to carry on any debate, he 
 resolved to revive political discussion in a form that might 
 depend entirely upon his individual exertions. The pro- 
 gress and termination of these lectures are well known. 
 From an obscure little newspaper-room, in Compton- 
 street, that would scarcely hold sixty auditors ; from an 
 audience, in the first instance, of only thirteen persons, 
 they spread themselves to the premises in Beaufort Build- 
 ings, where seven hundred and fifty have, sometimes, 
 been present, and more than twice that number turned 
 away from the door. 
 
 In the mean time, he became a member of The Friends 
 of the People in South wark. He was not, however, one 
 of the original projectors of that Society; or on the Com- 
 mittee by whom the original Declaration was brought for- 
 ward : altho that Declaration constituted the only new 
 ground upon which (after the acquittals of Hardy and 
 Tooke) he can be supposed to have been placed, for five • 
 successive days, at the Bar of the Old Bailey. It is 
 somewhat curious, all things considered, that, when he 
 heard that paper read, he even made some objections to 
 it : for the march o^ his opinions was deliberate ; and he 
 had not then advanced the whole length of the principles 
 he imagined to be there insinuated. The passages he 
 thus objected to were, however, explained, by a well- 
 known Veteran in the cause of Parliamentary Reform. And, 
 as Thelwall was, already, enthusiastically attached to the 
 main object of that institution, he became very active in 
 its support; and strenuously endeavoured to prevent it- 
 dispersion, during the season of general alarm that 
 
Prefatory Memoir, xxvii 
 
 ceeded the proclamations, for the sudden assembling of 
 Parliament, and calling out the Militia. 
 
 In. the month of October, 1793, he became a member 
 of the London Corresponding Society : and his con- 
 nection with some of the leading members of the Society 
 for Constitutional information, rendered him, in some de- 
 gree, the organ of union between those two bodies of 
 Men. He was, accordingly, appointed one of the Mem- 
 bers of the Committees assigned as the basis of the well 
 known arrests, in May, 1 794, and of the State Trials in No- 
 vember and December following. There is one circum- 
 stance, relative to these transactions, too intimately con- 
 nected with the immediate object of these memoirs to be 
 passed over in silence. It has been seen, already, that, 
 for seven or eight years before the commencement of his 
 political career, Thelwall had devoted himself to general 
 Literature. In that time he had accumulated a great num- 
 ber of materials, upon a variety of subjects, both in prose 
 aq4 verse; and, among the rest, two poems, of consider- 
 able extent— on both of which, at different times, he had 
 bestowed considerable labour. When he was taken into 
 custody, on the 12th of May, 1794, the whole of these 
 papers, together with several printed books, and a large 
 collection of engravings, (landscapes, portraits, and histo- 
 rical designs) and other articles, equally unconnected with 
 the object of search, were swept away by the messengers 
 and Bow-street Runners : nor have they ever been re- 
 turned. 
 
 While he was yet in the house of the messenger, Ford 
 the magistrate (since Under-secretary of State) waited 
 upon him ; and with great politeness and urbanity of de- 
 portment, enquired whether he would wish to have his 
 private papers sent to him there, or returned to his house 
 in Beaufort Buildings. Thelwall preferred the former, that 
 he might have the satisfaction of knowing what was re- 
 turned. Whereupon Ford, shewing his seal, bad him take 
 
X'xviii Prefatory Memoir. 
 
 particular notice of it, as the trunk should be sealed up 
 with that impression : and he added " you may depend upon 
 " my honour, that no eye has seen them but my own." 
 The whole of this conversation passed in the hearing of 
 Tims, the Messenger: yet the trunk was never delivered : 
 and when Thelwall enquired the cause, Tims gave him 
 to understand, " that he did not choose to have his house 
 " littered with a parcel of rubbishing papers, and, there- 
 " fore, he had sent them to Beaufort Buildings.' ' Under 
 what seal the trunk there arrived, or whether under any 
 seal at all, it was afterwards impossible to ascertain ; for, 
 before the liberation of the owner, the wax had disap- 
 peared ; and his family had been too much occupied with 
 other thoughts to attend to such particulars. The contents, 
 however, were only some bundles of letters, with a par- 
 cel of useless fragments of the foul, and imperfect copies 
 of several different works. The books and engravings, 
 all the corrected manuscripts, and every individual thing 
 of the least value, was, somewhere or other, detained : 
 and all applications for their recovery have been unavailing. 
 On the merits of the political question with which this 
 anecdote is connected nothing shall here be said. But as- 
 suredly, in the fiercest warfare of opinion, the Temple of 
 the Muses should still be sacred : confiscation should not 
 extend to intellect and the arts : there should be no war 
 against the mind. 
 
 Neither shall " the secrets of the prispn house " here 
 be told. Five months of solitary confinement in the Tower, 
 and seven weeks in The Common Charnel House of Newgate 
 (this is spoken without metaphor) are, therefore, passed over 
 in silence. To the circumstances of The Trials, that en- 
 sued, the exertions of Erskine have given an immortal- ty 
 that supersedes the necessity of other record. In the Athe- 
 nian Eloquence of that accomplished Pleader, and the 
 Spartan Brevity of Gibbs, the vindication of the accused will 
 descend to posterity,- and he can wish no better Eulogy. 
 
Prefatory Memoir. xxix 
 
 But neither the grated chambers of the Tower, nor the nox- 
 ious dungeons of Newgate, were unconscious to the visita- 
 tions of the Muse. Immediately after his liberation, Thelwall 
 published, in quarto " Poems written in close confinement 
 " in the Tower and Newgate." These, together with 
 the introductory advertisement, are the first published at- 
 tempts of the author at correct composition: and they met 
 with a favourable reception : as did also his work on " The 
 " Natural and Constitutional Rights of Britons;" which 
 contained the substance of what he would have delivered, 
 had he persevered in his first resolution of pleading his own 
 cause. In short, as imprisonment had not diminished the 
 energy of his mind, it is probable that contemplation had 
 given it additional strength and consistency ; while the evi- 
 dence, in his behalf, upon The Trials, and the liberal 
 zeal of Erskine (not less the advocate of his fame than of his 
 life) had placed him, before the public, in a new and fa- 
 vourable point of view : and if he could then have restrained 
 his political enthusiasm, and confined himself to the more 
 noiseless pursuits of literature, the door of every connec- 
 tion he could have wished, in that way, seemed ready 
 to open bofore him. But this enthusiasm had been fos- 
 tered, rather than crushed, by the broodings of solitude : and 
 he resumed the pursuits to which his convictions pointed. 
 His only precaution in this respect, was to employ a 
 short-hand writer, to take down every thing he said ; as 
 a security (for the future) against the audaciousness of 
 open Perjury, and the arts of Misrepresentation. This 
 precaution produced the publication of " The Tribune;" 
 a work in which emolument was never consulted ; and 
 the sudden interruption of the sale of which, by " The 
 Pitt and Grenville Acts," occasioned a heavy and embar- 
 rassing loss— the nature of which will be intelligible enough 
 to those who are conversant with the business of periodi- 
 cal publication. 
 
XXX Prefatory Memoir. 
 
 The suppression of the Political Lectures ; his further ef- 
 forts to revive discussion, under the title of Lectures on 
 Classical History ; and the successive interruptions at Yar- 
 mouth, Lynn, Wisbeach, Derby, Stockport, and Norwich, 
 are recent in the remembrance of every one. At four of 
 these places he narrowly escaped assassination (at the first, 
 perhaps, the still more terrible fate of being carried to 
 Kamtschatka) by the sailors, the armed associators, and 
 the Inniskilling dragoons, by whom he was successively 
 attacked. And so active was the acrimony that pursued 
 him, that, even on his way to the retreat, to which he 
 shortly afterwards withdrew, having occasion to pass thro 
 through Ashby de la Zouch, to claim a small debt, a mob 
 of soldiers and loose people was hired, by certain zealots 
 in that town, to assail him. Against these he was obliged 
 to maintain his ground, singly, for a considrable time ; till 
 the Chief-Constable of the place arrived, and took him 
 under his protection. 
 
 Prior to this, while he was yet in Derby, he was ap- 
 plied to by the late principal proprietors of the Courier, 
 to undertake the management of that paper ; a proposal 
 which he readily accepted. But nothing could surpass 
 the vehemence of hostility .with which that paper was as- 
 sailed, from various quarters, as soon as this connection 
 transpired. In short, the proprietors were obliged to re- 
 tract the agreement ; and Thelwall quitted the office, after 
 continuing only a fortnight in that situation. 
 
 Such was the conclusion of his political career ; a ca- 
 reer in which he had consumed seven of the most pre- 
 cious and important years of life ; had considerably shat- 
 tered his constitution, by his exertions both of body and 
 mind; and had by no means benefited his pecuniary cir- 
 cumstances : a statement which may be readily believed 
 when it is known, that his political lectures, in Beaufort 
 Buildings, (intervals excepted) lasted, but seven months ; and 
 that, besides all the heavy deductions (which those, only, 
 
Prefatory Memoir, XXXI 
 
 who are acquainted with the burthen of advertising in 
 five or six public newspapers, and the long detail of 
 unapparent expences, with which every undertaking of 
 this kind, in a large town, is unavoidably attended, know 
 how to appreciate,) he had a rent of £.\o ( Z a year, toge- 
 ther with all taxes, to pay for those premises, during the 
 
 space of three years. As for the " Classical Lectures,'* 
 
 they never, in London, paid the charges. 
 
 The premises above mentioned, indeed, had been taken 
 for a variety of political purposes, by certain gentlemen, 
 (some of them of considerable property and station in 
 life) and one of whom made a conspicuous figure hi the 
 House of Commons on a subject connected with this trans- 
 action. These gentlemen set their names to a subscription 
 towards discharging the rent. It so happened, however, 
 that for the space of time above mentioned, almost the 
 whole weight of the incumbrance fell upon Thelwall, 
 who, thonot bound to any such responsibility, or any part 
 of it, preferred all the consequent inconveniencies to the 
 alternative of suffering it to fall upon the friend, who, in 
 confidence of this subscription, had taken the premises 
 upon lease. In the hands of that friend (George Wil- 
 liams, of Saffron-hill,) Thelwall, at the conclusion of his 
 lectures, left all that remained of the receipts, to indemnify 
 him as far as they went; resigning himself and his family 
 to their destiny, under circumstances of pressing necessity 
 and embarrassment. This sacrifice, it is true, was a very 
 inadequate provision for the consequences that were yet to 
 follow ; and heavy, indeed, has been the burthen, where 
 it ultimately fell. But Thelwall, who sujfered himself to 
 be the first victim, and propt the w r eight, with voluntary 
 shoulders, till he was completely crushed from under it, 
 is, assuredly, answerable neither in conscience, nor in 
 honour, for any part of these consequences ; how keenly 
 soever he may deplore them. 
 
 The above statement, which can be supported by un- 
 
xxxii Prefatory Memoir. 
 
 questionable documents, and will be vouched by the ulr 
 timate sufferer himself, is thus set forth at large, because 
 a report of a very different nature has been propagated, 
 by persons who ought to have taken the pains to be pro- 
 perly informed, before they sported with the private cha- 
 racter of an individual, whatever they may think of his 
 public sentiments or exertions. 
 
 For an account of those sentiments the reader is refer- 
 red to the various publications in which they are con- 
 tained. Suffice it to Say, " that in all his speeches, and 
 all his publications, he has uniformly expressed himself 
 an enemy to bloodshed and violence, from whatever quar- 
 ter they might proceed.' ' There are many who well re- 
 member the ardour with which he repeatedly reprobated 
 the execution of the unfortunate Louis ; and the extent 
 {by some considered as visionary) to which, on that, as 
 on many other occasions, he carried his doctrines of for- 
 bearance, and abjuration of all that may be called vindic- 
 tive, or acrimonious justice. His sentiments upon another 
 subject (relative to which he has been much misrepresent- 
 ed) may be seen (as in a number of other passages) in 
 the following quotation from his " Sober Reflections on 
 " Burke's Letter. (P. 33 and 34, second edit.) 
 
 J I too have laboured not indeed " to discountenance 
 
 " enquiry," but to give it a just direction ; — to point out 
 4 to the poorer sort, in particular, of my fellow citizens, 
 
 * smarting and writhing under the lash of oppression and 
 
 * contumely, the peaceful means of redress ; to shew them 
 '■ the distinction between tumult and reform — between the 
 
 * amelioration and the dissolution of society — the removal 
 
 * of oppression, and the sanguinary pursuits of pillage and 
 ' revenge. I trust that the salutary lesson has not been en- 
 ' forced in vain — that whatever calamities may result to so- 
 ' ciety, from the present enormous inequality in the distri- 
 
 * bution of property, all tumultuary attacks upon indi- 
 
 * vidua! possession, all attempts, or pretences of levelling 
 
'Prefatory Memoir. xxxiii 
 
 1 and equalization, must be attended with massacres and 
 1 assassinations, equally destructive to the security of every 
 « order of mankind ; and, after a long struggle of afflictions 
 
 * and horrors, must terminate at last, not hi equalization, 
 
 * but in a most iniquitous transfer, by which cut-throats and 
 ' assassins would be enabled to found a new order of nobi- 
 
 * lity, more insufferable, because more ignorant and feroci- 
 ' ous, than those whom their daggers had supplanted.* 
 
 In these points moral character may be considered as in- 
 volved : it has not, therefore, been thought proper to pass 
 them entirely over. Not so with respect to his opinions 
 merely political. For these he desires no apology, and he 
 is anxious for no vindication. It is enough for himself, 
 that he remembers them without self-reproach. That he 
 retains them in silence, ought to be enough, even for the 
 most prejudiced and hostile. Since " the age of chivalry" 
 humanized the European world, the time is past when 
 mean submissions were expected, even from a vanquished foe 
 — when carnage could not be satisfied without "slaying 
 "the mind." He claims the benefit of this civilization. 
 He expects that it should be extended to the victims of 
 opinion, as well as of the sword : and that he should be 
 permitted to walk in the uprightness of his own convic- 
 tions, without being hunted, any longer, from society, by 
 a proscription more ferocious than if assassination, or the 
 other crime of Italy, had been proved against him. Some 
 claim to this species of toleration he thinks he possesses 
 from the example of his own deportment : for he has 
 never been one of those who make sect or party the test of 
 moral rectitude. He has ever believed, and maintained,.. 
 that Theories the most opposite were equally consistent 
 with sincerity and moral feeling in the professors. In the 
 pamphlet above quoted, may be seen how he could 
 feel, even for the most bitter, and the most formidable 
 of his antagonists. f See particularly p. 3 to 6. J And, 
 even in the utmost height of his enthusiasm, in behalf oT 
 
xxxiv Prefatory Memoir, 
 
 the French Revolution, he is known (in the circle 'of his 
 friends) to have exerted himself, with some solicitude, and 
 with some effect, to introduce an unfortunate emigrant 
 (a priest, of the name of Hudier) into a line of con- 
 nection that enabled him to obtain a comfortable sup- 
 port. Yet is there, scarcely, a consideration of private jus- 
 tice, or of human sympathy, that, in consequence of his 
 opinions, has not been violated against him. The ordi- 
 nary transactions of life have been interrupted — the inter- 
 courses of the closest relationship violated and impeded, 
 and the recesses of the utmost obscurity been disturbed — 
 even magistracy, that should have protected, has been the 
 insidious prompter of hostility and insult ; and the post 
 itself, has been forbidden to him as a vehicle of confiden- 
 tial intercourse. The channels of vital sustenance have 
 been dried up; and Friendship (the last stay of the human 
 heart) — even Friendship, itself (a few instances of gene- 
 rous perseverance alone excepted) wearied and intimi- 
 dated with the hostilities to which it was exposed, has 
 shrunk from its own convictions, and left him in compa- 
 rative insulation. 
 
 " The measure he has meted to others, mete ye, also, 
 " unto him." 
 
 Tho he does not admit even this maxim to be the boun- 
 dary line of humanity and justice, (for the frailties of the 
 individual can never constitute The Rule of Right :) he is 
 contented to abide the test. 
 
 " The measure he has meted to others, mete ye again 
 " to him." 
 
 ON the conclusion of the transaction with The Courier, 
 Thelwall, tho unchanged in his opinions, renounced all 
 connection with public affairs : from a conviction (how- 
 ever reluctantly admitted) of the state both of his own health 
 and of the public mind. He perceived, with anguish, 
 
Prefatory Memoir. xxxv 
 
 that, from the fury with which he was pursued, every 
 effort he made, instead of producing the Reason he loved, 
 only irritated to the Violence he abhorred- To that vio- 
 lence, indeed, every thing apparently tended. " You 
 " will drive theReasoners from the field," he had said, re- 
 peatedly, in his Lectures, " and the assassins will rush 
 *•' into their places.'* " In the ferment of half-smothered 
 " indignation, feelings of a more- gloomy complexion 
 "will be generated ; and characters of a very different 
 " stamp will be called into action. Men who have neither 
 *' genius nor benevolence, will succeed fo those who- had 
 ■*• both; and, with no other stimulus than fury, and no 
 " other talent than hypocrisy and intrigue, will embark" 
 " in projects which every friend to humanity must abhor; 
 " and which, while the free, open, and manly character 
 " of the species was yet uncrushed, never could have eri- 
 4i tered the imagination."— ——/'See, among innumerable other 
 passages, The Tribune, Vol. 1, p. 25; and Vol. 3, p. 140. J 
 
 The realization of this prophecy seemed at hand. The 
 prospect, on all sides, became abhorrent to his nature ; and 
 he determined thenceforward to lock up his sentiments in the 
 silence of his own bosom ; to concentrate his feelings in 
 the private duties of life ; and turn his attention towards 
 making, if not a comfortable, at least, a quiet establishment, 
 for- his encreasing family. 
 
 The assistance of a few friends enabled him to stock a 
 little farm, of about five-and-thirty acres in the obscure 
 and romantic village of Uys-W'en, in Brecknockshire : a 
 scene once famous in Cambrian story, as one of the resi- 
 dences of Roderick the Great ; from whose White Palace 
 it derives its name. 
 
 In the election of this spot, so far as it might be con- 
 sidered elective (for he had already devoted four months to a 
 pedestrian excursion, in unavailing search for an elegible 
 retreat :) Thelwall was principally influenced by the wild 
 an4 picturesque scenery of the neighbourhood. For the 
 village (embowered with orchards, and over-shadowed by 
 
xxxvi 'Prefatory Memoir. 
 
 grotesque mountains) is sweetly situated upon the banks 
 of the Wye, at one of the most beautiful, tho least visited, 
 parts of that unrivalled river; and the cottage itself, thro 
 the branches of the surrounding fruit trees, catches a 
 glympse while its alcove (elevated on the remains of 
 an old sepulchral tumulus) commands the full mew, of one 
 of the characteristic and more-than-crescent curves of that 
 ever-varying stream ; with its glassy pool sleeping beneath 
 the reflected bank, its rapids above, and roaring cataracts 
 below, bordered with plantations and pendant woods, and 
 diversified with rocks and pastures. 
 
 Such a retreat could not but appear, to an enthusiastic 
 imagination, as a sort of enchanted dormitory, where the 
 agitations of political feeling might be cradled to forgetful- 
 ness, and the delicious day dreams of poesy might be re- 
 newed : and as his wife's brother (who on account of his 
 relationship, had been hunted, by a certain Lord of the. 
 Bed-chamber, from his farms in Rutland) accompanied him 
 in this new establishment, Thelwall flattered himself that 
 agriculture, under the superintendance of the one, and the 
 visitations of the Muse to the other, might secure that 
 humble sort of subsistence to which he had determined 
 to accommodate his desires. In the choice of this situation 
 he was, also, further influenced by its remoteness from 
 all political connection. For, determined himself to 
 observe the most inviolable silence respecting his opini- 
 ons, he took it for granted, that there, where they had 
 never yet been heard of, he should be equally out of the 
 way of all solicitations to revive the discussion, and all 
 the animosities they had excited against him* But altho 
 to his resolution he steadfastly adhered, in his hopes of 
 consequent tranquility he was most woefully disappointed. 
 Politics, hitherto unknown in that neighbourhood, were 
 now injected, in their most acrimonious form, into the ears 
 of the ignorant inhabitants, in order to stimulate a vulgar 
 hostility, more harrassing and more irritating than all the 
 open oppressions of power : and the officiating clergyman 
 
Prefatory Memoir, xxxvit 
 
 of the parish seems to have thought it the "duty of his 
 function, to aggravate these hostilities, by the most pointed 
 and inflammatory allusions from the pulpit. Thel wall's 
 habits of living, also, so widely different from all around 
 him?— his fits of abstraction, his solitary rambles, among 
 the woods and dingles, and, above all, the supernatural cir- 
 cumstances of his neither drinking Cwrw, [i. e. Ale] smoak- 
 ing, nor chewing tobacco, had no small tendency to en- 
 crease the animosity which the Welsh are apt enough to 
 entertain (without other reason) against every Saxon who 
 intrudes, as a settler, among them. 
 
 Under all these circumstances, it will not appear ex- 
 traordinary (to such, in particular, as are acquainted with 
 the state of society in those rude parts) that it should have 
 been believed, in some of the scattered neighbourhoods 
 about, " that there was one man at Llys-Wen that could 
 "conjure; and that did walk in the woods, by night, 
 " to talk with his evil spirits;" still less will it be wondered 
 at, that he was obliged to take orm of his brutal neigh- 
 bours to Brecknock sessions, for ferociously assaulting him 
 with a pick-axe ; or that, during the hue and cry raised 
 by the proclamation after Bagnal Hervey, he should be 
 obliged to defend his house from the last extremities of 
 outrage, by causing it to be publicly known, that he would 
 put to death the first unauthorized individual who should 
 presume to set foot upon his premises. 
 
 Those, however, who, from immediate vicinity, were 
 compelled, in some degree, to see with their own eyes, 
 became gradually to regard him with less hostility. And 
 one, in particular, there was, whom he happened to meet, 
 in company with the former occupant of the Farm, when 
 he first passed thro the village, who, (tho a plain unedu- 
 cated farmer, and differing, perhaps, in opinion upon al- 
 most all those subjects, which, among such as boast of 
 higher cultivation and refinement, are, too frequently, per- 
 mitted to limit the generous sympathies of our nature,) 
 
xxxviil Prefatory Merhbir. 
 
 displayed towards him, upon every occasion,, that active 
 and unshrinking friendship which, probably, has rarely 
 existed between persons so widely removed in all the or- 
 dinary habits of life and intercourse. 
 
 It is a circumtance. somewhat curious, that the affections 
 of this worthy farmer— this untaught votary of sympathy 
 and benevolence ! seem, in the first instance, to have been 
 rivetted by the recital of a Poem (" Day of my double 
 €C birth/ ' &c.) which will be found in this collection ; and 
 which constituted a part of the amusement of an evening 
 that the sudden swelling of the Wye compelled the re- 
 citer and the hearer to spend together. 
 
 From " Theatres and Halls of Assembly'' to a little Vil- 
 lage of only twenty miserable cottages — from the friendly, 
 the enlightened, the animated circles of Norwich-— from the 
 elegant and highly intellectual society of Derby, to the sordid 
 ignorance of a neighbourhood whose boorish inhabitants 
 hash up a barbarous jargon of corrupted Welch, with still 
 more corrupted English, utterly indigestible to unaccustom- 
 ed organs, was another of those sudden transitions by which 
 the faculties are necessarily stunned and stupiried. The 
 new Recluse, accordingly, (with the exception only of a few 
 transient efforts) resigned himself up, for a considerable 
 time, to mere inanity ; and his first succeeding attempt at 
 serious composition (some specimens of which were hand- 
 ed about among his friends) exhibited only a mournful 
 picture of the soreness and irritability of ' a mind equally 
 out of humour with itself and with all the world. At length, 
 however, among a bundle of books and papers that had 
 been sent to him from London, he lit, by accident, upon 
 the first rough sketch of the plan of " The Hope of Al- 
 " bion," which had been drawn up before the com- 
 mencement of his political career, and had fortunately 
 escaped the general pillage of the 13th of May. 
 
 The enthusiasm, that had been so long raked up in its em- 
 bers, immediately burst forth again. ' The renovated ardour 
 
Prefatory Memoir. XXXlX 
 
 seized entire possesion of his soul ; and twelve or thirteen 
 weeks were consumed in utter and absolute abstraction. 
 During that time, five books of the poem were written ; 
 and the whole plan developed thro all its branches ; and, 
 but for an unseasonable interruption, in all probability, the 
 first transcript, or finished sketch of the whole work, 
 would have been completed before he had laid down the 
 pen. Eut an event, equally unexpected and unaccount- 
 able, arrested his career. In the prosecution of the work, 
 it had been necessary to send to London for some books, 
 particularly such as might iilucidate the early periods of 
 British Story. A parcel of these from Lackington's, to- 
 gether with a letter of Criticisms, from a literary friend, 
 and another from his sister (relative to some accommo- 
 dations for the approaching confinement of Mrs. T.) was, 
 accordingly (in Jan, 1799) forwarded to him by the wag- 
 gon ; and had proceeded as far as The Hay — seven miles 
 only from its place of destination. There, however, it was 
 pursued, by a King's Messenger, who, producing his war- 
 rant, took it back to London, for the inspection of the 
 Privy Council. The developement of its contents would 
 have been naturally expected to secure its immediate res- 
 toration. But it did so happen, that neither the abstrac- 
 tion of the student, nor the situation of a female, under 
 circumstances that usually excite some sympathy, was 
 thought entitled to such attention; and upwards of a 
 month elapsed before the parcel, or any part of its con- 
 tents, was restored to its owner : nor was it, even then, 
 accompanied with any apology or explanation. In the 
 mean time, all the furious passions of an alarmed and ig- 
 norant neighbourhood were set once more afloat. Calumny 
 and apprehension agitated the country, with renewed vio- 
 lence ; the Recluse and his family were again exposed to 
 all the bitterness of vulgar insult ; and the calm enthusi- 
 asm of poetic meditation was again effectually dissipated. 
 Nor have leizure and tranquility since been permitted for 
 the serious resumption of the work. 
 
xl Prefatory Memoir* 
 
 Neither should it be here omitted that, from this time, 
 the post was no longer a vehicle of confidential inter- 
 course to the author. His letters were broken open and 
 bandied about the country ; sometimes for a fortnight toge- 
 ther. In several instances, they never came to his hand 
 at all ; and his own letters to his friends (all of them on 
 subjects of mere private intercourse) have, also, in many 
 instances, been intercepted and suppressed. Every thing 
 was the sport of wanton and insolent curiosity ; and 
 abuses of this kind were practiced with so little decency, 
 that the aggression of The Secretery of State seemed, at 
 once, the signal and the warrant of authority, upon which 
 every petty officer, or no-officer, thought himself at liber- 
 ty to proceed. 
 
 Shortly after this, circumstances arose that made it neces- 
 sary for Thelwall to take the active management of the 
 farm into his own hand. The pen was exchanged for the 
 plough, and he became, not only in theory, but practical- 
 ly and laboriously, a farmer. This circumstance, however, 
 but for others, of an adventitious nature, that accompanied 
 it, would have been no insuportable hardship '. for Thelwall 
 was scarcely less an enthusiast in agriculture, than he had 
 been in politics, and is still in poetry. To such things 
 as had fallen in his way, upon this subject, in a miscel- 
 lanious course of reading, he had formerly paid some at- 
 tention : and some degree of knowledge upon the subject 
 he had derived from occasional conversations with intelli- 
 gent and scientific farmers, in different parts of the nation : 
 and now that the objects of these speculations had become 
 familiar to him, he not only introduced some improvements 
 in the implements and mode of management, not till that 
 time adopted in his ignorant neighbourhood, but by his dili- 
 gence and application, assisted by the practical instructions 
 of the friend above mentioned, soon gave a new face to 
 his little farm. 
 
Prefatory Memoir* xll 
 
 But. his agricultural career was commenced under the 
 most inauspicious circumstances. The horrors of such a 
 harvest as. that of 1799, especially in so mountainous a 
 country, can only be conceived by those who have wit- 
 nessed them-— and by those who have witnessed, they will 
 not easily be forgotten. Of these horrors Thelwall had 
 his full share; and of the toil (to him unaccustomed) 
 amidst torrents and inundations, with which they were 
 accompanied. Under these exertions, his feeble constitu- 
 tion, more than once, appeared upon the point of sinking. 
 But his cup of affliction was not yet full. 
 From the pecuniary ruin that must otherwise have over- 
 whelmed him, through the devastation of his little property, 
 he was, indeed, rescued by the liberality of a few unsha- 
 ken, tho distant, Friends ; and by the exertions of one, ill 
 particular, who, on a former occasion, had not been, 
 among the least conspicuous in the zeal and manliness 
 
 , of friendly interference. Yet, on s consequence there was 
 (of all possible consequences the most bitter) that no inter- 
 
 / ference of distant friendship could avert.' 
 
 • Disastrous as had beeir every otherpart of his destiny, 
 
 '.inh* s family he had been ? hitherto j particularly happy: 
 A and 1 it was the frequent boast of bis heart, That Nature, 
 
 ,■ iii: this respect, had made atonement for the malice of 
 Fortune. .But, above all, his hopes (and indeed the expecta- 
 tions of all who, from her earliest infancy, had known her) 
 were concentrated in his eldest child-— -a daughter of mosl; 
 premature .attractions, endeared to both her parents by all 
 the associations that can give new force to the affections 
 of nature, and all the dispositions that can render the iniio- 
 cency of childhood thrice amiable. But this child (who, 
 while every other part of the family seemed sinking under 
 the influence of the ungenial season, appeared, alone, all 
 health and bloom, and loveliness) \#as suddenly snatched 
 away. Her danger was not perceived till it was too late: 
 and before remote assistance could be procured, all assist- 
 
xlii Prefatory Memoir* 
 
 ance was vain. She died on the 28th of December, a 
 few days after she had completed her sixth year— and left 
 her unfortunate parents, amid the horrors of solitude, in a 
 state of mind which souls of the keenest sensibility can alone 
 conceive ; which Stoicism may condemn, and Apathy 
 might, perhaps, deride. Those who have studied the tone 
 of the Author's mind, in the specimens exhibited in his 
 *' Poems in the Tower and Newgate," would not, perhaps, 
 have expected to see him thus sinking beneath domestic 
 misfortune. But his firmness, under what he considered as 
 persecution, was not insensibility, but enthusiasm ; and, per- 
 haps, his character cannot better be comprehended than by 
 a comparison of those Poems with the Effusions produced 
 by this calamity. He will there be seen in his strength, and 
 in his weakness : and, probably, both will be found to 
 originate in the same temperament— in the same keenness of 
 perception and habits of feeling. 
 
 It will scarcely be believed, that the anguish and frenzy 
 produced by this calamity should have been studiously 
 aggravated by the contentious insults of a brutal landlord : 
 a being, who, in the course of twenty years that he has 
 been in possession of the farm, has had five different te- 
 nants, and lived in perpetual discord with them all. 
 Against Thelwall, in particular, this contentious spirit 
 seems to have been accompanied with a degree of ranco- 
 rous animosity (national and political) that might suggest 
 the suspicion that he had only let him the farm for the 
 opportunity of harrassing and insulting him. Even the 
 death of a beloved child, still lying unburied beneath the 
 roof of mourning, was thought a proper object of sarcas- 
 tic exultation. — But humanity would be degraded by the 
 delineation of such a character. He is resigned, there- 
 fore, without further comment, to the obscurity of a neigh- 
 bourhood (the vicinity of Builth) whose ignorance and 
 gross vulgarity alone can form a proper back ground to 
 such a portrait. 
 
Prefatory Memoir. xliii 
 
 These circumstances, and the fatal consequences, with 
 which unalleviated anguish threatened the declining health 
 of Mrs. Thelwall, have produced another change in 
 the pursuits and situation of a man still the sport of un- 
 toward destiny. Driven into barbarous solitude, by the 
 inveteracy of hostile opinion : and, by accumulated cala- 
 mities, hurled back again upon Society, he has taken up 
 his habitation in a neighbourhood, whose superior civili- 
 zation (if it affords him little intercourse) at least, secures 
 his safety, and protects him from insult : and, claiming 
 again his station among mankind, he resumes, from ne- 
 cessity, the character which, if his wishes alone had been 
 consulted, would never have been laid aside. 
 
 Independently, indeed, of these circumstances, some al- 
 teration in his arrangements had become inevitable. What- 
 ever may be the supposed emoluments of the large farmer 
 (and, if he holds under an old-standing lease, they certainly 
 cannot, in these times, be inconsiderable) a little farm (of 
 thirty or forty acres) with a modem rent, and modern taxes, 
 is no longer adequate to the subsistence, even of" a laborious 
 family, that should perform, within itself, all the operations 
 of culture, ThelwalPs family, of course, was not of this 
 description ; and, for two years, out of three, that he oc-* 
 cupied Llys-Wen, his farm was the very reverse of any ad- 
 vantage to him. And it is a fact, not unworthy the consi- 
 deration of those who believe the scarcity of the last two 
 years to have been entirely artificial, and the dearth unne- 
 cessary, that the whole produce of the calamitous harvest 
 of 1 799 * after returning its seed to the ground, (had every 
 grain of it been sold at the advanced prices of that year) 
 would not have paid his rent and taxes alone— without 
 saying a word about the sustenance of his family, or the. ex- 
 pences of manure and labour : and yet his crops were cer- 
 tainly not more deficient than those of the generality of his 
 neighbours. It may, accordingly, be concluded that, al- 
 tho he contrived to keep up his payments, and his credit 
 
xliV." ' Prefatory Memoir. • « 
 
 in his neighbourhood, he was. frequently not unconscious 
 of the stings of necessity. 
 
 It was under a stimulus of this- kind, that he put into 
 his pocket the first chapter (all that was then written) of 
 " The Daughter of Adoption '**'$ and walked up to London 
 to dispone of it, in that state, to some bookseller. In that 
 state, Phillips, of St. Paul's Church Yard, had the confi- 
 dence to purchace it—and what was still more, he had the 
 liberality to advance the sum demanded for it, on the spur 
 of the occasion; and Thel wall returned to the Vale of the 
 Wye to cultivate his farm with the mortgage of his brain. 
 The series of disasters, however, already enumerated, long 
 delayed the execution of the work ; and, at last, when his 
 mind began, in some -degree, to recover from its affliction, 
 • upwards of two thirds of that novel was hurried through in the 
 course of a few weeks, amidst all the bustle of the deceitful 
 harvest of the year 1800. How (in the. judgment of cotem- 
 porary critics) it was executed (in spite of all these disadvan- 
 tages) may be seen in the Critical and Monthly Revievvs, 
 for February and August last. The most sanguine expec- 
 tations of the author could not have looked forward to a 
 more favourable reception. f 
 
 * With the name of -John Beaufort, LLD. the author has no connec- 
 tion : it was an addition of the JBookfeller's, after the manufcript was 
 out of his hands. Tho compelled to concealment by the hoftile prejudices 
 of the day, the mafk of difguife, he has always anxioufly abjured. 
 
 i The moral tendency of the Work, indeed, has been fomewhat 
 queftioned : more, however, he believes, from that attachment to cus- 
 tomary and received opinions, which cannot haftjly be' fhaken off, thaa 
 from any deliberate examination of the principles, and their confluences, 
 which k contains. The abftraft moral of the tale, is.no other than this : 
 
 " That th;e purity of the fexual intercourfe confifts, fimply, and 
 " exclufively,. in the inviolable finglenefs of attachment ; but that, ne- 
 " verthelel's, whatever be our theoretical opinion of the ceremonial part 
 "of the inftituti'on, it is an abfolute moral duty, in the prtfent ftate 
 *' of fociety, to conform with the eftablifhed ufage." If this maxim 
 be erroneous, it is an error in the Author's judgment of fo long (land- 
 ing, that he cannot recolleft the time when he did not err. . But, 
 t;cn in this refpeCt, if he fhould happen to be jniftaken, "he trufts 
 jhat the morality of the work cannot thereupon (land condemned. 
 He truus that there are pauages enough in his Book, of an uncjueftionable 
 
Prefatory Memoir, xlv 
 
 But while the in adequacy, of his agricultural engagements 
 thus drove him upon expedients of literary projection, every 
 literary effort served only to convince him of the unsuita- 
 bleness of his situation,. Whatever may have been said 
 by visionary enthusiasts, continued solitude is the grave, 
 rather than the nurse, of mind — and more especially a 
 solitude so environed with ignorance and barbarism. 
 
 " Some learning," says the late Lord Orford, "is ab- 
 ." solutely necessary even for the writer of a Novel;" and 
 consequently, some occasional access to authorities. But 
 Llys-Wen is not more completely sequestered from civi- 
 lized society, than from books. Of the three towns, Builth, 
 The Hay, and Brecknock, that lie at the respective dis- 
 tances of twelve,, seven, and ten miles from the village, the 
 last only (the centre of the opulence ' and gentility of those 
 parts) pretends to the very name of a. library ; and the ca- 
 talogue of this consisted only of a .miserable assemblage of 
 about 360 articles— of which 233 were novels, and.no more 
 than 20 were upon subjects of history, or .connected with 
 historical investigation. Not even a regular communication.is 
 kept up between these towns, and the periodical publishers 
 of the metropolis : so that whatever article might become 
 indispensable to the prosecution of his. studies, Thelwall 
 had no resource, but to procure it to be purchased for him 
 in London— to wait the tardy conveyance of a broad- 
 wheeled waggon ; and, sometimes, pay for the carriage, 
 even more than the original price of the article. 
 
 In such a situation the talent of authorship was rather a 
 t$x than a resource : and when his landlord, in bare- faced 
 contempt of his own written engagement, refused to exe- 
 cute the lease that had been agreed between them, it would 
 
 nature, to make ample atonement for an individual herefy ; and, that 
 no one will rife from the perufal of his. pages, with a heart lefs dif- 
 pofed to the moral duties and focial charities of fife. To promote 
 thofe charities (in their mod extenfive acceptation) has been the objeft 
 he has perpetually had iu view ; and, if, in this refpeft, he has not 
 failed, he is little folicitous about the cavils that may be raifed upon 
 difpmable points of doclrjne. 
 
xlvi 'Prefatory Memoir. 
 
 certainly have been little less than madness to have filed a 
 Bill in Chancery for the perpetuation of such a tenure : 
 indeed, nothing but the stern determination not to be at 
 once robbed and insulted, could have induced him to make 
 those preparations for that measure, which compelled his 
 petty tyrant to submit their differences to arbitration. Thel- 
 wall reaped, however, in this respect, the benefit of his 
 firmness : for altho the compensation he recovered was very 
 inadequate to the injury he had sustained from the shuf- 
 fling conduct of his oppressor ; he did, in reality, receive 
 a pecuniary consideration for relinquishing a concern, from 
 which he would gladly have emancipated himself at any ex- 
 pence, but that of apparent submission to vulgar insolence 
 and undisguised rapacity and oppression. It ought, also, to 
 be added, that — considering the state of society (or rather of 
 conspiracy) that prevails in those parts— where it is a fun- 
 damental point of morals, that nationality is to go before 
 right, and relationship before law— it was no small effort 
 of virtue, on the part of the Umpire, to do a. stranger, 
 and a Saxon, even that degree of justice he obtained by 
 this award. 
 
 Thus terminated this ill-starred experiment, for uniting 
 together the characters of the Farmer and the Poet : and 
 the object of this Memoir is once more to be considered 
 in the latter of these characters alone. 
 
 On the renewal of his intercourse with the profession 
 of Literature, he finds, indeed the profits (always scanty 
 and precarious) almost annihilated by growing imposts : 
 he finds, also, the press teeming, and, perhaps, the public 
 already satiated with National Heroics, which, when 
 his principal work was first projected, was a desideratum 
 in English Poesy: and, what is more than all, he has to 
 encounter prejudice and hostility in those classes of so- 
 ciety, who alone can be expected to have a taste for such 
 compositions, or to give them extensive encouragement. 
 From the most advantageous field of poetical cultivation, 
 
Prefatory Memoir, xlvii 
 
 and that for some departments of which, he is, perhaps, 
 best calculated, he is effectually excluded : an exclusion 
 indeed, that seems to be most jealously guarded — —for 
 there is good reason to believe, that the article which 
 stands first in the ensuing collection (if, by some myste- 
 rious inquisition, the author had not been discovered) 
 would have made its appearance in a much more profit- 
 able form *. Even the doors of Libraries, public and pri- 
 vate, have been closed against him, with a party jealousy 
 not very honourable, perhaps, to the literary character 
 of the Country; and he is driven. to the alternative of 
 reading no books but what he can afford to pur- 
 chase, or of cooping up his clustering babes within the 
 confines of the metropolis, where his friends, at least, are 
 apprehensive, that Revenge might assume the mask of 
 Suspicion, for the incarceration of his person, and the final 
 ruin of his family. From this intellectual proscription 
 the present publication (with the unsophisticated narrative 
 that accompanies it) is intended as an appeal. It is the 
 herald, also, of an arduous undertaking, in which he 
 flatters himself, that the glory of his Country is not al- 
 together unconcerned. And if the specimens here exhi- 
 bited should evince some progress of mind, some latent 
 energies, which, under circumstances the most unfavour- 
 able, have occasionally burst forth, he has still enthusiasm 
 enough to cherish the hope, that there are some who will 
 feel, and indulge, the disposition to remove, at least, a 
 part of those impediments, by which jhis progress has 
 been, hitherto, impeded. 
 
 Eut even independent of that proscriptive species of 
 criticism that will condemn the Poet from hostility to the 
 
 * That is to fay, — a part of it — for fince the profpeft of fiage repre- 
 fentation has been abandoned, the dialogue and mythological allufions, 
 in feveral of the fcenes, have been confiderably lengthened ; by which, 
 tho its bulk may have been rendered fomewhat extra-theatrical, it is 
 hoped, that in point of intcreft, ia the clofet, it has not been injured. 
 
xlviii Prefatory Memoir. 
 
 politician, he is not unacquainted with the almost univer- 
 sal prejudice so inconsiderately sanctioned by Pope, 
 "One science only will one Genius fit." 
 This maxim, however, if rightly considered, ought rather 
 to be interpreted to his advantage. For since he has 
 proved so bad a politician as to plunge himself and his 
 family in ruin, for the dissemination of a principle which 
 he thought conducive to the happiness of mankind, it 
 ought to be regarded as an argument a priori in favour of 
 his poetical talent: that species of imprudence (a sort of 
 failing so rare and so fatal in politics) having always been 
 considered as a distinguishing characteristic of those whom 
 Apollo and the Muse inspire. Happy, however, he 
 would be, if all arguments of prejudication could be 
 entirely laid aside; and his work; appreciated by the can- 
 did and impartial! principles of criticism alone: for altho 
 he is not vain enough to suppose that he has nothing to 
 apprehend from such ordeal, he would cheerfully relin- 
 quish all the partiality he can hope, on condition of exemp- 
 tion from all the prejudices he has reason to apprehend. 
 
■ 
 
 h 
 
 THE FAIRY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE LAKE. 
 
 3 ^wmuiz Romance* 
 
 IN THREE ACTS. 
 
Rowenna, Queen of B ritain ; a Sorcerefs. 
 
 Edelthred, and Agga, Her attendants 
 
 Alwin, a Saxon Chief,, 
 
 Seneschal. 
 
 Sewer. 
 
 A British Noble, attendant on the Court of Vortigem, 
 
 Saxon Nobles, Soldiers, and other attendants. 
 
 Ar-thur, the Britifh Champion* 
 
 Tristram, his Ef quire. 
 
 Scout, another Ej quire. 
 
 Tali ess in, Chief of the Bards. 
 
 Guenever, Daughter of Vortigem,. betrothed to 
 
 Arthur. 
 Bards, Knights of the Round Table, Nobles, 
 
 Maskers, Sec. 
 
 The Fairy (or Lady) of The Lake. 
 Several Fairies, Sec. her attendants. 
 
 He la, Queen of the Infernal Regions. 
 Incubus, a frozen demon. 
 
 Urd, ss | I the paft. 
 
 Verandi, fl^jM the prefent 
 Schulda, tl^ I the future. 
 
 The Giants of Frost; Demons of the Frozen 
 Regions; Demons of the Noon, Sec. Sec. 
 
THE FAIRY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 ACT I. SCENE I. 
 
 A Stately Appartment in one of the Palaces of 
 Vortigern. 
 
 Rowenna reclining in a difconfolate attitude. 
 Edelthred, AggAj and other Attendants Jleeping. 
 
 CHORUS OF INVISIBLE SPIRITS. 
 
 .owen n a rife! Thy beauteous eyes 
 From clouds of forrow clear; 
 With Runic fpell Each woe repel 3 
 And dry the falling tear. 
 Semi cho. Rowenna ! pride of Woden's race ! 
 
 With fovran power, with beauty's grace. 
 
 And magic numbers blefi ! 
 The impaffive fpirits of the air 
 Obedient round thy couch repair. 
 To footh the troubled brealL 
 Cho. Rowenna rife ! &c. 
 
 Semi cho. Thee, Chauntrefs of the Runic fong ! 
 The mifty Realms of Froft among, 
 The (huddering ghofts obey, 
 
4 THE FAIRY Act I 
 
 Sem. cho. Thy power the Fatal Sifters own, 
 Arid Hela, trembling on her throne. 
 Admits thy potent fway. 
 Cho. Rowenna, rife, Sec. 
 Sem. cho. For thee Valhalla's halls are mute - 9 
 Nor WafTail bowl, nor dire difpute 
 The warrior chiefs employ, 
 Sem. cho. While Frea, from Afgardian bowers, 
 No more among her votaries mowers 
 The genial ftiafts of joy. 
 Cho. Rowenna rife ! Thy beauteous eyes 
 From clouds of forrow clear : 
 With Runnic fpell Each woe repel, 
 And dry the falling tear. 
 
 Rowenna (riifhing forward with great emotion.) 
 
 Arthur ! — Arthur ! — Hence, away, 
 
 Intrufive fpirits of the air ; 
 Nor, with officious zeal, difplay 
 How impotent immortal care. 
 Sem. cho. Hear, Rowenna ! — Miftrefs hear ! 
 Row. Arthur ! — Arthur !-~- In my heart 
 , I feel — I feel the feftering dart : 
 Tis Arthur ! — Arthur ! all. 
 In vain Afgardia's facred bowers, 
 hi vain Valhalla's fhield-built towers, 
 Afori's gods, and Hela's powers 
 Their mi'ffion'd daughter call. 
 Sem. cho. Hear, Rowenna!- — Miftrefs, Ilea 
 Sem. cho. Still thy bofom, Dry the tear. 
 
Sc. 1. OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Sem* cho. Snatch thy wand ! — 
 
 Sem. cho. Exert thy power ! 
 Sem. cho. O'er Afgard's foes triumphant tower, * 
 
 And chace the troubled tear. 
 Cho. And chace the troubled tear. 
 Row. Arthur {-—Arthur ! — Hence — away, 
 Intrufive fpirits of the air, 
 Nor mock me with officious care 
 In vain did Frea charms beftow, 
 And Schulda o'er the realms below 
 
 To rule with runic fpell. 
 In vain with Braga I repeat, 
 In mvftic rhyme, Afamael fweet, 
 
 And tune the immortal fhell. 
 In vain by me the Saxon name 
 O'er proftrate Britain towers to fame. 
 
 Myfelf inglorious fall. 
 The conquering fword — the magic art 
 Are baffled by the apoftate heart. 
 'Tis Arthur !— Arthur all. 
 
 Yes — yes — 'tis fruitlefs. Minifter no more, 
 Ye ever-hovering fpirits ! 'tis in vain, 
 To footh this .ftorm-tofs'd bofom. Earth and Air, 
 And the deep -bofom 'd waters, to this wand, 
 Indeed, pay homage; and the elfin train 
 That round the harp of Braga, echoing, throng 
 (Swelling his magic numbers) on my fteps 
 Wait warbling ; and with minftrelfey and voice, 
 Qbedient to my wifhes, fill the air 
 
6 THE FAIRY Act 1. 
 
 With choral melodies. My wiley arts 
 
 Have thrall'd the foul of Vortigern ; in whom 
 
 Britain, my foe, lies proflrate ; and the gods 
 
 Of Scandinavia in my witching fmiles 
 
 Build their enfanguin'd altars. Cambria's fons, 
 
 And all the Brutean race, already feel 
 
 The woman viclor. Even the nether world, 
 
 Seafons, and circling Elements obey 
 
 My potent biddings. Cloud-compelling Thor 
 
 Mud wield his thundering Gauntlet, or controul. 
 
 With lifted Mace, the Giants of the Froft 
 
 If I but chaunt The Rhyme. Yet what avails ? 
 
 Arthur difdains my charms ; and o'er his heart, 
 
 My fpells are powerlefs. Yet once more I'll try. 
 
 Once more the fecret dwellings of The Fates 
 
 This ken fhall pierce. Thefe feet again fhall thrid 
 
 The abodes of Hela. Rife, ye miniftering maids. 
 
 Shake from your flothful lids the charmed deep, 
 
 And do your wakeful fervice. [They come forward. 
 
 Edelthred ! 
 Haft thou heard aught of ftrange or terrible 
 Marring thy midnight (lumber ? 
 
 Edelthred. Nothing, Madam. 
 My deep was fweet and tranquil. 
 
 Row. Well — and yours ? 
 
 Agga. Full of fweet vifions — gentle and ferene. 
 
 Row. 'Twas as I wifii'd. Oh\ impotence of power! 
 Terreftrial, or fupernal ! To each eye — 
 All but mine own — -to every wearied fenfe 
 My fpells can give fweet (lumber; from my lids 
 While reftlefs Anguift? drives the balmy Sylph, 
 
Se. I. OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Or Mara from fome brief imperfect dream 
 Wakes me, delirious, on her phantom'd forms 
 To gaze with powerlefs horror. 'Tis too much. 
 Hell, give me more : or take the power ye gave. 
 Give me to triumph o'er my Arthur's heart, 
 And in thefe arms enfold him ! or my fpells, 
 Hence I forfwear, this gifted wand I break, 
 Nor at the altars of Afgardian Gods 
 Chaunt hence the Runic rhyme. 
 
 Hafte Edelthred; 
 Bring here my myftic robes : the fame that erft 
 (While the dire Sifters join'd the fearful chaunt) 
 I wove in Cimbrian groves. 
 
 Air by an invijible Spirit* 
 
 Magic Woof, in Cimbrian fhade 
 Woven by the gifted maid, 
 While the Raven-voice of Fate 
 Croak'd of flaughters, fears, and hate. 
 
 Sent cho. Shuddering Horror liftning near. 
 
 Row. 'Tis the fame. Go : bring it here. 
 Air as. before. 
 There, beneath the blafted yew, 
 Where reptiles lap the poifonous dew 9 
 While the bird who fhuns the day 
 Hooted loud, and tore his prey— 
 
 Semi cho. There 'twas wove — a webb of fear I 
 
 Row. Its die it drank from infant gore, 
 
 And tears of mothers blotch it o'er; 
 Groans from its milling folds refound 5 
 And hiffing ferpents fringe it round. 
 
8 THE FAIRY Act 1. 
 
 It is a myftic webb of fear. 
 Hafte my virgins : bring it hereo 
 
 Ed. Hertha defend! What means our troubled Queen? 
 
 Row. Again, in that terrific pall, to thrid 
 The maze of Hela; and with potent rhyme, 
 Extort a boon from Fate. Can I controul 
 The tempeft-heaving Nocca ? at my will 
 Brandifh the Thunderer's gauntlet? rend the air 
 With bidden ftorms ? and from the ihades of night 
 Evoke the wandering fpirit ? yet not quenchj 
 With its defir'd fruition, the fierce flame 
 That preys upon my vitals ? Does the power 
 Of magic numbers not extend to Love ? 
 Or are our gods faftidious, to deny 
 An unbelieving paramour ? — fave fiich 
 Whom Weaknefs to uxorious faith may bow : 
 Pageants ! and Vortigerns ! My Pall ! My Pall ! 
 
 By that dread Fiend Unutterable ! whofe frown 
 Makes Nature fterrile, I will know my doom. 
 The Fatal Sifters, who, in Hela's (hade, 
 Weave the dark woof, ihall tell me all they know. 
 And with their magic aid me. Yet— forbear! 
 
 Earth and the fhuddering elements confefs 
 The approach of feet profane. 
 
 EdcL The bugle (hark!) 
 Wakening the echoes, thro the diftant courts 
 Sounds in the hurried blaft. 
 
 Row. Some voice, affured, 
 
 Of evil omen feeks my wounded ear, 
 
Sc. 1. OF THE LAKE 
 
 Big with a tale of horrors. Let it come. 
 What worfe can greet Rowenna than the news 
 That Arthur fcorns her paffion ? 
 
 Enter Alwin. 
 
 Well : how now ? 
 Thy dark portentous brow and hurried eye 
 Outftrip thy tongue's intelligence, and make 
 Thy filence eloquent. Thou haft fome tale 
 Of horrors and difafters. Give it breatho 
 I have a heart prepar'd for all the worft : 
 A foul that fhall not falter. I forgive 
 Thy evil tidings, tho they fhould import 
 My father's death, the Saxon overthrow. 
 And Cambria's triumph. 
 
 Alwin. Prophetefs infpired ! 
 Thy words prevent my meffage. Such my news* 
 Hengift, indeed, is fallen : The Saxon power 
 Crouches to Britain. To the conflict led 
 By fierce Ambrofius, with Armoric aids, 
 Sudden they burft upon us, near the towers 
 Of Connifburg. Arthur's enchanted fwbrd 
 Gleam'd like a peftilence ; and thro' our ranks 
 Scatter'd difmay and death. His dragon creft 
 Belch 'd dreams of living fire; and on his breath 
 The dread Valkyries hung ; where'er he bad, 
 Singling their vi&ims. 
 
 Row. Arthur ? Arthur ? 
 
 Al-j). Ke— 
 Pendragon's fiercer fon. In horrid grace 3 
 
 B 
 
S> THE FAIRY Act L 
 
 Wrathful he ftrode the field. His glittering mail 
 And youthful limbs, befmear'd with Saxon blood, 
 Daz'd every fenfe. With awful wonder fill'd, 
 Our hearts were palfy'd : as tho Woden's felf, 
 Frefh from Iduna's banquet, came renew'd, 
 To ply the work of Fate, and his own race 
 Whelm in one general wreck. Meantime the king, 
 
 Your royal father 
 
 Row. Met his arm \ and died ?— 
 By Arthur died ? 
 
 Alw. Not fo— That fatal deed 
 Ambrofius boafts — who, hoary in his hate, 
 And full of guile, engor'd with treacherous wound 
 The elfe-engaged Hengift : and he fell — 
 Fell by the Briton ! — while our fcatter'd ranks 
 Fled o'er the plain for fafety — vainly fought. 
 
 Row, Frea ! I thank thee. Genial Goddefs ! hail ! 
 Hail the propitious omen ! 'Twas thy care 
 That Hengift's blood ftain'd not the hand of Arthur. 
 
 Purfue thy tale. Some other hour, more fit, 
 We will feleft; for tears. Occafions prefs ; 
 And we muft find prompt councils. Whether fled 
 The abject Vortigern ? 
 
 Alw. From bourg to bourg 
 (By all alike rejected) with his fuit, 
 Weftward he fled, towards his Cambrian wilds, 
 A hunted fugitive : till join'd, at laft, 
 By thofe who Tcap'd the (laughter, he attaind 
 The heights of bleak Farinioch. There he lurks, 
 Hem'd by Gwrtheyrnion's towers, whofe giant itrength 
 
Sc.\. OF THE LAKE. 11 
 
 Frowns o'er the midway fteep. Thither he bore . 
 (From his inceftuous paffion uneftrang'd) 
 His fair, relu&ant daughter, Gueneyer. 
 
 Row. She fcap'd not then into the arms of Arthur ? 
 She is fecure. Revenge at lead is fare : 
 And Love has hope ! Say, haft thou aught befide 
 That may import my hearing ? 
 
 Alw. Sovereign ! nought : 
 But that the exulting vi&or, to deftroy 
 The Saxon hope, has purpofe to depofe 
 Our pageant Vortigern; and, in his place, 
 Crown the new idol, Arthur. 
 
 Row. (ajide) Arthur crown'd ? 
 And fo he fhall be. But not crown'd by them. 
 That is Rowenna's Dower : the dower confirm'd 
 By the three Fatal Sifters. — While I live, 
 Thy empire, Albion, waits my fpoufal love : 
 And Arthur, if he reigns, muft reign by me. 
 Alwin, what elfe ? 
 
 Alw. Your royal will. Befide 
 Nought now remains untold. 
 
 Row. Then, Alwin, thus— 
 Hafte to Gwrtheyrnion with what fcatter'd powers 
 Your fpeed may gather. See the gates fecur'd 
 Againft my foon arrival I fhall bring 
 Such powerful fuccours as may bed defend 
 The alpine fortrefs, mould the victors dare 
 To prefs us to allege. Away. Begone. [Exit Alw o 
 
 O Edelthred ! O Agga! why fhould thus 
 My heart beat lighter, and the breath more free 
 
12 THE FAIRY Act, I 
 
 Diftend my fportive bofom ? Hengift flain — 
 The Saxon routed ! — Here is caufe of grief 
 For Nature .and Ambition. But my foul 
 Is full of Love and Arthur. Frea fmiles 
 To my beft hopes propitious ; and, amidft 
 The itorms of adverfe deftiny, my heart 
 Finds anchor in her aid. 
 
 Goddefs of the genial hour I 
 
 Hear, O ! hear my votive figh \ 
 And, tho' adverfe Fortune lour, 
 
 Fear and Sorrow I defy, 
 
 Goddefs of the genial hour I 
 Grief may drop the tranfient tear, 
 
 Wild Ambition heave the breaft ; 
 But, if thou in fmiles appear, 
 
 All is tranquil— all is bleft, 
 Goddefs of the genial hour ! 
 Fear and Sorrow I defy, 
 
 Tho my adverfe fortune lour, 
 Hear but thou my votive figh, 
 
 Goddefs of the genial hour ! 
 
 Edel. And fhe will hear it— if we aught may judge 
 The future by the prefent. Could we hope 
 A fairer pledge of promife ? Arthur s hand 
 Slew not your father. — Arthur's conquering aid 
 Could not redeem his Guenever. 
 
 Row. 'Tis there 
 My fondeft hopes are fix'd.- — Still, ftill &e pines 
 
Sc. 1. OF THE LAKE. 13 
 
 In hoftile bonds — ftill hears with fteadfaft hate 
 (Would it were not fo fteadfaft !) the foul fuit 
 Of that inceftuous Vortigern : or writhes, 
 Perchance, fubje&ed to his foul embrace. 
 Calling, in vain, on Arthur. I will aid 
 The lawlefs paflion of this monfter king, 
 Goading his vile defires, and urging on 
 To their impell'd fruition. Haply fo 
 (For man, with fickly appetite, abhors 
 Oft from the trick of Fancy) Arthur hence 
 Shall loath her rifled beauties : She no more 
 Shall feem or chafte or lovely ; and his eyes 
 Confjfs fuperior merit. Then fhall foon 
 Adultrous Vortigern my vengeance feel; 
 And his polluted paramour : This hand 
 Shall lift my Arthur to an envied throne, 
 And our united fceptres blend the tribes 
 Of Cimbria and of Britain. Say I well? 
 
 Agga. Well : if The Fates ordain. 
 
 Row. We will enquire* 
 And for fuch purpofe in The Secret Grove 
 Chaunt we the fpell. My double-vifag'd Fate 
 (Ghaftly at once and jocund) goads me on 
 Amidft a ftorm of paflions. To The Grove 
 Initiate Virgins, and the haunted cave; 
 There join the fearful chaunt. And ye, tmfeen — • 
 Ye fhapelefs fpirits of the impaffive air. 
 Lend me your minftrelfey. Yetfirft evoke 
 The oafifh Incubus. While yet the bat. 
 Beneath the ominous mantle of the night. 
 
14 THE FAIRY Act t, 
 
 Follows the beetles hum, be it his tafk 
 
 To fcout the country round ; if chance he learn 
 
 Tidings of Arthur; who, at once impell'd 
 
 By love and by ambition, will purfue 
 
 The fteps of Guenever. Him fhould he find, 
 
 Upon the attendant train let him eflay 
 
 His numbing tricks : that while they, fhivering, fink 
 
 In fenfelefs torpor, Arthur, all alone 
 
 Thefe eyes once more may meet. Evoke the fiend. 
 
 What further I defign the myftic grove 
 
 And fecret cave fhall witnefs. Join me there 
 
 Where, in my Cimbrian pall and fnaky tire, 
 
 I chaunt the fpell to Hertha. 
 
 Howl of wolves, and ghofts of night, 
 
 In the fearful chorus join, 
 While The Moon withdraws his light, 
 And the flars, in dim afright, 
 
 Veil their orbs, and fear to fhine. 
 Hark! — they wait to fwell the rite — 
 Howl of wolves and ghofts of night ! 
 
 [Exeunt Row. Ed el. &c. 
 
 SCENE II. Manet Agga. 
 Agga. Incubus ! Incubus ! 
 
 Incubus, (below.) Whu-u-u ! Whe-e-ether now ? 
 Wh-o-o calls fo loud ? 
 
 Agga. You know, I trow. 
 Incubus ! Incubus ! 
 
 Did you not your Miftrefs hear ? 
 
Sc. 2. OF THE LAKE. 1 5 
 
 Incub. Ye-e-e-e-yes — 
 Behold your fhivering devil here. 
 
 The ground unclofes, and thro the chafm rifes a mea- 
 gre fpeHre, with a blue and frojly countenance^ 
 funken eyes, frozen locks and beard, and gar* 
 ments covered with icicles, 
 
 Incub. ( 'Shaking the /now from his fides.) Whu-u-u-u! 
 
 What's the bufmefs pr'ythee now ? 
 Agga. Son of Froft ! you know I trow. 
 Did you not your Miftrefs hear ? 
 Incub. Hear ? O yes; there's no fear of that, I 
 aflure you. When 'tis a woman we ferve, our orders 
 are fure to be fufficiently audible ! The frofts of Hela 
 cannot plug up one's ears againft the clear tones of 
 the feminine organ. But pr'ythee now, leave off your 
 rhyming and your incantations, and blow my fingers 
 for me a little. — It is half a century fince I have 
 been able to breathe any thing but fleet and hailftones 
 upon them myfelf. 
 
 Agga. Really I have no warm breath to fpare upon fo 
 cold a fubjecl;. 
 
 Incub. Why I fuppofe, indeed, I am not very engag- 
 ing. Some thoufand years hence, when ice-creams are 
 predeftined to become an article of luxury, fome lady 
 of honour, may chance to take a liking to a joint or 
 two, by way of ftomachic : But at prefent, I believe, 
 there is no great danger of my being devour'd by 
 the fair fex. 
 Agga. Not if they are of my tafle, at leaft. 
 
16 THE FAIRY Aett. 
 
 Incub. But pray, good Mrs. journey woman Sorce- 
 refs! have you any further inftructions ? Any (hug lit- 
 tie commiffion for yourfelf ? 
 
 Agga. Good Mr. Journeyman Devil ! no.- — If ever 
 I admit any of your infernal train into my fervice, it 
 fhall be a devil of better quality. 
 
 Incub. Aye ! aye ! Mrs. You are for a good plump 
 roafting Devil I fuppofe. This effence of fnow and 
 icicles might melt before the blaze of your beauty. 
 Agga. What, you think I have fome attractions then? 
 Incub. Attractions ! Before I defcended into the re- 
 gions of Hela, to have my blood converted into icicles, 
 I fhould have been ready to die for you any half hour 
 of my exiftence. 
 
 Ag. Were you fuch a Dragon amongft us in your 
 life time?— Come, come; I fufpecl it was not for this 
 you were fent to The Frozen Regions 
 
 Inc. Why, no : offences of that fort are punifhed in 
 a Hell of a very different defcription. In fhort, there 
 is no diffembling. You know the myfteries of our 
 faith; and the thing fpeaks for itfelf. Our MicufT 
 Divinities and I happened not to fet up our horfes 
 together on the fubjecl: of the exquifite delight of being 
 hacked and hewed into a thoufand pieces. Not 
 but that I could be valiant enough in my own way ■: 
 for my mouth was full of big oaths ; and my brow 
 feemed as dark with danger as a thunder-cloud : till a 
 difaftrous coincidence took the fword of my renown 
 out of my mouth, and placed it in my hand. 
 
 Ag* Ha! ha! poor Incubus! And then I fuppofe 
 
So 2, OF THE LAKE. If 
 
 it was perfectly out of its element. 
 
 Inc. In fhort, the fignal for battle was given ; when 
 fuddenly a cold fweat coming over me, I flunk from 
 the ranks ; hid myfelf in a houfe of conveniency ; died 
 of apprehenfion, before the conflict was decided ; was 
 conveyed immediately to the Realms of Mift and Froft, 
 and hung up for an icicle upon the eaves of Hela's 
 palace; where I might right ruefully have remainedj 
 without remiffion or intermiflion, hope or holiday, the 
 whole predeftinated period of my purgation.— 
 
 Agga. Purgation ? What, then, you do not expect 
 to await The Twilight of the Gods in your prefent frozen 
 ftate ? 
 
 Incub. Schulda forbid! Let me fee: according to 
 
 my calculation, I have now But if your invifible 
 
 muficians will help me out with an accompaniment, I 
 will defcribe, in a fong, the year of my regeneration. 
 
 When the twelvemonth's contention of Gentries is done, 
 Whether eighteen be ended, and nineteen begun, 
 And Learning and Science their optics (hall ftrain 
 To find fome new nothing to puzzle the brain ; 
 Then the Fates to this world fhall my efTence reftore, 
 To fhudder in Regions of Hela no more. 
 
 O ! how different the race that my eyes fhall behold ! 
 For a foul of my kidney a true age of Gold ! 
 Since none for his fears can be look'd on the worfe, 
 Where they count for their fame not their fears but their purfe 
 Then the Fates to this World, Sec. 
 
18 THE FAIRY Act U 
 
 ThenThe Fair-Oh ! how fair their fweetperfons will fhine, 
 When our helmets and fcull-caps to them we refign, 
 When no grace of the form fhall in vain be beftow'd, 
 And nakednefs felf be the tip of the mode. 
 
 Then their motions fo eafy, their manners fo free ! 
 In ferae naturae you'd deem them to be; 
 And Mifs juft in her teens, from all bafhfulnefs freed, 
 Shall now fkip o'er the rope, and now fkip o'er the tweed : 
 
 O! how gay then I'll flirt and I'll flutter around, 
 Where the belies of the young 1 9th Cent'ry are found ! 
 Their charms fo obtrufive fhall kindle a flame, 
 Shall melt all the ice that now ftiffens my frame ; 
 And I'll think, while Love's ardour fhall glow in each pore, 
 Of the Regions of Froft and of Hela no more. 
 
 [Exeunt 
 
 SCENE III. The Magic Grove; with the entrance of 
 the Cave of Incantations — a rude and rocky chafm, 
 overhung with Jhattered yew trees, and every /pedes 
 of gloomy and noxious vegetation. The darknefs of 
 the fcene is only imperfectly interrupted by the tranfient 
 glare of meteors from above, and the blue vapours, or 
 fen-damps, that play about the Magic Circle defcribed 
 at the entrance of the Cave. Shrieks and groans, and 
 bellowing noifes, heard occafionally in the air ; &c. 
 
 Rowenna is dif covered, arrayed in her Pall and flaky 
 Tiara; Edelthred and others attending; their 
 
Sc 3. OF THE LAKE. 19 
 
 hair difhevtlled, and intermixed with Ivy, Hemlock, 
 Night/hade, £?c. A Female Child accompanies 
 them, bearing the Pitlured Drum and Double Ham- 
 mer, with a rofary of Brazen Rings, and images of 
 ferpents, frogs, toads, and other obfcene reptiles, ujei 
 in the myjleries of Northern Magic. 
 
 Row. Strike, ftrike, The myftic Drum, virgin yet pure 
 Of paffion's fecret wifh ! from (acred folds 
 Gf chill equatic Loomfkin, lift on high 
 The awful Hammer, while the Brazen Ring, 
 Viper, and venom'd Toad, and Frog that croaks 
 In pools obfcene, and Newt of mouldering wall 
 Dance o'er the piclur'd furface, and in reel 
 Prophetic of our wavering deftinies, 
 Lead up The Rites. 
 
 Ye Demons of the Storm ! 
 Who thro the mirky clouds with tranfient glare 
 Stoop to our incantations, or, appaii'd, 
 Shriek in the midnight blaft, with yell or groan 
 Swelling the chorus of the fhuddering Grove, 
 While growls the diftant bear, and in his den 
 The hungry wolf barks fear-chain d I — it is well; 
 Ye feel my power, and own it. Aid me then 
 In thefe myfterious Rites — or ye who rive 
 With Thor's own bolts the groaning earth, or ye 
 Who to the labouring mine's combuftion'd womb 
 Dart the contagious fpark, whence Earthquake rends. 
 Or pent Volcano fpits his fulphurous fires, 
 Wide wafting! for to Hela's my fly realms 
 
• a O THE FAIRY Act I, 
 
 I force my way, and to The Fatal Three 
 
 Who weave the Webb of Deftiny. [Enter Agga< 
 
 How now ? — 
 Tardy and fhuddering ? Haft thou in thy way 
 Gather'd the fpume -froth 'd drugs, on which, o'ertoil'd, 
 The Bat hath crouch'd, and the Night- Swallow drop'd 
 Her half-churn'd morfels ? — 
 
 Agga. Miftrefs, they are here :— 
 But, ufe them not ! Some hoftile ftar prevails — 
 Our Gods forfake us. Never, fince the hour 
 When, with initiate feet, I firft approached 
 This myftic Circle, felt my foul fuch horror. 
 At ever and anon, as, from my fpeed 
 Paufing, I ftoop'd, fome ominous fhriek was heard, 
 Or deathlier groan : — the herbs, o'erconfcious, fhrunk 
 My trembling touch ; the glare of fiery eyes 
 Peep'd from the unhallow'd turf; and up mine arm 
 Darts the benumbing fhock— as lightning-ftruck ! — 
 That three-times thrice (while fhook the earth beneath) 
 From my full apron drop'd the unwilling (lore — 
 With fhuddering toil replaced. Forbear ! forbear 
 The ill-omen'd fpell ! 
 
 Row. Mere womanifh fear. Away ! 
 My foul is all on fire, and I mull feek 
 The quenching ftream, or perifh. Come: draw near. 
 Give me The Drugs. Thus from my bruifing hands 
 I prefs the powerful dews. Now, ftrike again 
 The fpheric Drum, and in the fawn's warm blood 
 gtoop, ftoop and warn— -Tis done. Begin the chaunt. 
 
Sc.3. OF THE LAKE. s?i 
 
 Chorus. Hela ! hear ! 
 
 EdeL Queen of Niflheim's mifty fhade 
 
 Agga. Frozen Hela ! ghaftly maid ! 
 
 Row. From thy Throne of Horrors — hear ! 
 
 Edel. By the Giants of the Froft ! 
 
 Agga. By Ifing's fury-beaten coaft ! 
 
 Row. By thy Dome of Anguifh — hear? 
 
 Edel. By thy Table, Famine-fpread ! 
 
 Agga. By thy lean unfhelter'd Bed ! 
 
 Row. Threfhold bleak and Chafm dread ! 
 Chorus. Hela I hear ! 
 
 Edel. Furies dread of Woden's hall ! 
 
 Agga. By whom the fated heroes fall — 
 
 Row. Dread Valkyries ! — bend and hear ! 
 
 Edel. And ye Nornies — fearful three ! 
 
 Who thro Fate's dark workings fee — - 
 Weaving the Webb that mortals fear — 
 Chorus. Fatal Sifters ! lift, and hear ! 
 
 Row. bending towards the earth, with her Wand up- 
 lifted, as in atl tojirike. 
 
 Hertha ! ope thy rock-rib'd fide — 
 
 Ribs of Ymer's giant pride f 
 
 Ribs by Odin, Vile, and Ve — 
 
 Awful Godhead ! myftic Three ! 
 
 From Ymer torn, and giv'n to thee. 
 Adel. and Agga. Hertha ! op? thy rock-rib'd fide — 
 
 Ribs of Ymer's giant pride ! 
 
 Chorus. Hertha ! hear ! [A groan below. . 
 
22 THE FAIRY Act 1. 
 
 JEfiW. Hertha labours. Soon the fpell 
 
 Shall her relu&ant womb compel. 
 Agga. Soon the once-tried depths below 
 
 Again their gates {hall open throw. 
 
 Row. Ceafe, ye maidens — ceafe your ftrains : 
 Mine the talk that yet remains. 
 Hertha's rock-rib'd fide unclofes; 
 Hell its hideous womb expofes ; 
 Groans, and fhrieks, and plaints of woe 
 Roar in troubled floods below. 
 Fly ye maids ! To me alone 
 Hertha's fecret ways are known. 
 
 Subterranean thunder. Edelthred, Agga, &c. dif 
 appear. The cavern burfis open. A /warm of hideous 
 Phantoms rufh, with great clamour, from the cleft; 
 thro whom Rowenna rufhes, and defends. The 
 Phantoms form themf elves into groups, fome of 
 which join in a fort offantaftic and conflicting dance, 
 fir iking at each other, and buffetting the air ; while 
 others join in difcordant chaunt. 
 
 Chorus. Fell enchantrefs ! hold ! forbear ! 
 
 1. Phantom. 'Tis in vain. We beat the air. 
 
 2. Ph. Phantom'd Terrors glare in vain. 
 
 3. Ph. Nature's laws no more reftrain. 
 All three. Defperate Magic burfis the chain. 
 Cho. Hertha groans in terrene thunder : 
 
 Ribs of rock are burft afunder. 
 
Sc. 3. OF THE LAKE. 23 
 
 1. PA. Sulphur! 2. PA. Nitre! 3. PA, Miner's damp, 
 
 Fatal to the vital lamp — 
 All. Thro the cavern'd entrails fumes 
 
 2. PA. And the Wolf-like Serpent's fpume. 
 Chorus. Midgard's Serpent, fierce and dread, 
 
 Lifts his all-devouring head. 
 
 1. PA. Fiercely writhes his fcaly zone. 
 
 2. PA. Nature trembles on her throne. 
 Cho. Gods and Hela join the groan. 
 
 1 . Ph. Hark ! the Hell-dog's tripple growl ! 
 
 2. PA. Rafaen's fcream ! 3. PA. And Fenrir's howl ! 
 Cho. Thrilling fhriek! and deaf 'ning growl ! 
 
 1. PA. Fell enchantrefs ! 2. PA. On fhe goes — 
 
 3. PA. Eager of impending woes. 
 
 All. To the nine-fold realm fhe goes ! 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Hertha's rock-rib'd fide unclofes ; 
 Niflheim's gloom in vain oppofes ; 
 Groans, and fhrieks, and plaints of woe 
 Roar, in bootlefs floods, below. 
 They rujh into the chafm, and it clojes. 
 
 SCENE IV. The Abodes of Hela. 
 The Stage, atjirft^ appears involved in darknefs and mifi 9 
 Jo that the objects at the back part of the fcene are not dif- 
 cernable. Thunder and occajional Jlajhes of Lightning* 
 
 Row. (without). Hela !— Hela !— Hela ! 
 Hela. What mortal organs thus aloud proclaim. 
 With tripple invocation, Hela*s name ? 
 
24 THE FAIRY Act X 
 
 Row. (entering) Regent of the nine-fold ftiade ! 
 Shuddering Hela! Ghaftly Maid! 
 Bid the mifts of darknefs fly 
 Scattering from the nether fky ! 
 
 Hela. Say who art thou who thus, with daring tread* 
 Invad'ft the dreary manfions of the dead ? 
 
 Fear ! prefumptuous mortal ! fear ! 
 Draw not to my threfhold near. 
 Draw not near ! Confefs thy fear ! 
 And fhun my fury ere too late. 
 Row. Hela ! no : — I cannot fear ; 
 Tho the Furies all appear, 
 
 Sprung from Lok's prolific hate. 
 Mela. Draw not near. Learn to fear 
 Fenrir's howl, and Hela's hate. 
 Row. Hela, no : I cannot fear 
 
 Fenrir's howl, or Niflheim's hate* 
 
 By the channels twelve that drank 
 Hevergelmer's vapours dank, 
 Where the direful rivers flow, 
 Streams of horror, plaint, and woe ! 
 I have travers'd, void of fear, 
 To feek the Fatal Sifters here. 
 
 Cho. Regent of the nine-fold fhade ! 
 
 Shuddering Hela ! Ghaftly Maid ! 
 Bid the mifts of darknefs fly. 
 
Sc 4. OF THE LAKE. 25 
 
 Row. O'er the Bridge where Giol rolls- 
 Fearful pafs to daftard fouls ! 
 By The Dog of hideous yell, 
 By the iron grate of Hell, 
 Ghaftly Hela ! I have come 
 To tax The Fates, and know my doom* 
 
 Cho. Regent of the nine-fold (hade! 
 
 Shuddering Hela ! ghaftly Maid ! 
 Bid the mifts of darknefs fly. 
 
 Trio, and Chorus, by The Fatal Sifters, &c* 
 Urd and 1 Who art thou who thus prefume 
 Schulda. J To tax the Fatal Sifters o'er their loom ? 
 Verandi. Fly ! daring mortal ! 
 Urd. Daring mortal ! fly. 
 
 Schulda. Fly ! nor urge thy inftant doom. 
 
 Cho. Fly, daring mortal! fly: nor urge thy inftant doom! 
 
 Row. Hela ! from thy nether fky 
 
 Bid the mifts of darknefs fly : 
 
 Soon mall to your eyes appear 
 
 One your fhuddering fpeclres fear. 
 
 Soon The Sifters o'er the loom 
 The fhuttled hand fliall check, and tell my doom. 
 
 Hela, from the nether fky 
 Bid the mifts of darknefs fly, 
 Ere the loud refiftlefs fpell 
 Shake the dire abodes of Hell — 
 
a6 THE FAIRY Act.!.- 
 
 Ere this wand's terrific ftroke 
 The Unutterable Fiend evoke. 
 
 Hela. Fly ! ye mifls of Norver — fly ! — 
 Dager claims our nether fky. 
 Dread Enchantrefs ! ftop the fpell. 
 Rowenna ! ! ! — ■ — Now I know thee well. 
 
 The mifts difyerjing, Hela is dif covered '; a meagre 
 ghaflly fpetlre, feated on a throne of Ice, on the pre- 
 cipitous threshold of a palace of the fame material: 
 the whole fcene exhibiting a dreary fpetlacle of Rock, 
 and Ice, and Snow. 
 
 Her throne is guarded by The Giants of Frost, 
 a race of deformed and enormous monflers, whcfe 
 heads reaching the top of the flage, are involved in 
 clouds and vapours. Their hair and beards formed 
 of icicles: their Garments of Snow: their complexions 
 livid, and their forms mifhapen. Meteors play around 
 their heads ; and fnow and hailflones iffue from their 
 mouths and nojlrils. A throng of fhuddering fpetlres 
 around ; feme fauntering about; others root-hound; 
 and all covered with fnow and icicles. The Demons 
 of Storm and Tempest wait behind the Chair. 
 
 On the other fide, in a cave apart, arefeen The Fatal 
 Sisters at their Loom. Sculls are fixed to the beams 
 in/lead of weights ; the chamber is lighted by a Lamp 
 and a blazing Cauldron. Rafaen, i. e. the Raven 
 of S chuld a hovers over their heads. 
 
Sc. 4, OF THE LAKE. 27 
 
 Trio. Urd, Verandi, Schulda. 
 
 Weave The Webb — the webb of Fate ! 
 
 Ply it early — ply it late ! 
 
 Fates of falling empires weave ! 
 
 Woes that fufTering mortals grieve ! 
 
 Spindles turn ; the fhuttle throw ; 
 
 Treacherous joys, and lading woe. 
 
 In the fatal texture grow. 
 
 Weave The Woof — the woof of Fate ! 
 
 Ply it early — ply it late ! 
 Urd. Take the fample from the paft. 
 Verandi. Prefent forrows thicken faft. 
 Schulda. But the word fhall come at laft. 
 All. Weave The Woof — the woof of Fate! 
 
 Ply it early — ply it late ! 
 
 Fates of falling empires weave ! 
 
 Woes that fufTering mortals grieve ! 
 
 Spindles turn — the fhuttle throw. 
 
 Treacherous joys and lafling woe 
 
 In the fatal texture grow. 
 Chorus. Weave The Webb — the webb of Fate ! 
 
 Ply it early— ply it late. 
 
 Roto. Ceafe, fatal hags ! the ill-omen'd yell forego. 
 Speak : for ye can. I come my fate to know. 
 
 Schul. Sorcerefs, yet in early bloom ! 
 
 Tax us not, but wait thy doom. 
 Soon enough thy woe mail come. 
 
2^ ^ THE FAIRY Act \ 
 
 Row. Whatever the will of changeful Fortune be, 
 I murmur not, nor queftion HER decree. 
 Weave clofe the fecret woof, ye baleful three. 
 Not for the gauds of empire now I feek : 
 Crowns ye may give, and fettled fceptres break. 
 I fathom not, in this, your dire decree : 
 For what are crowns and fceptres now to me ? 
 But of Arthur I muft know — 
 Doom of joy ?— -or Doom of Woe ? 
 Urd, When firft the fatal bowl you gave, 
 
 And Vortigern became your Have, 
 
 Then for fovran power you pray'd ; 
 
 And Fatal Sifters lent their aid. 
 AIL Then for fovran power you pray'd } 
 
 And Fatal Sifters lent their aid. 
 Row, Sifters thanks : but this I know. 
 
 V trail. But now no more ambition fwells,: 
 
 Thy fecret foul on Arthur dwells : 
 
 Arthur, who, in Lunvey's groves, 
 
 Ev'n now, in wildering anguifh, roves. 
 All. Arthur now, in Lunvey's groves, 
 
 In heart-confuming anguifh roves. 
 Row. Sifters thanks that this I know. 
 
 But yet a further boon beftow. 
 
 Paft and prefent ye have fhown : 
 
 Make, O ! make the future known, 
 
 Schulda! fay what you decree? 
 
 DirefulPft of the direful three ! 
 
 Quick : divine : Is Arthur mine ? 
 
 Schulda! fay what you decree? 
 
Sc.A. OF THE LAKE. 29 
 
 SchuL Woden fits on Afgard's hills; 
 Where HydraffiTs Afli diftills 
 
 Neclar'd drafts of dew divine. 
 There alone, in accents clear, 
 My Raven whifpers in his ear, 
 
 What the future Fates defign. 
 
 Row. But I in lore of myftic arts excel, 
 And Fate's ambiguous book with eafe can (pell. 
 Speak, Fatal Sifter ! fpeak ; and I'll explain : 
 
 Tho myftery involve the ftrain. 
 Sch. Sifter — ere the memory dye, 
 
 Speak again of things gone by. 
 Urd. Once, to fnare a monarch's foul, 
 
 Fair Rowenna drugg'd a bowl. 
 Roto. I did — I did. Upon my knee, 
 
 Vortigern ! I gave it thee. 
 Sch. When the bowl again goes round, 
 
 And Vortigern his deep profound 
 
 Heedlefs quaffs— 
 Row, Hela laughs ! — 
 
 Plain the drift my fenfe defcries. 
 
 Sifters thanks.—- — He dies ! he dies ! 
 Hela. Wide my iron portals throw : 
 
 Perjur'd ghofts defcend below. 
 
 Open throw. To realms of woe, 
 
 Perjur'd ghofts defcend below. 
 Ron;. Plain the drift my fenfe defcries. 
 
 Hela thanks, He dies ! He dies! 
 
 Sch. Then Ihall clofe Thy jealous woes, 
 
30 THE FAIRY Act l. 
 
 Arthur's hand (hall light the fire 
 In which thy forrows all expire. 
 Row. Propitious Schulda I thanks. But what of her — 
 The Cambrian viper ! hateful Guenever ? 
 Sch. More thy rival to confound. 
 
 Fire and Water Hi all furround ; 
 Ruthlefs flames, and waves profound. 
 Arthur's hand no help (hall lend, 
 No mortal arm the maid befriend, 
 Nor aid from pitying Heaven defcend. 
 Row. Schulda thanks. Enough of her 
 
 My hated rival Guenever. 
 Hela. Wide my iron portals throw : 
 Perjur'd Ghofts defcend below. 
 Open — open — open throw ! 
 To realms of woe, 
 Perjur'd ghofts defcend below. 
 Row. Plain the drift my foul defcries. 
 
 Vortigern He dies ! — He dies ! 
 
 Arthur's hand fhall light the fire 
 In which my forrows all expire. 
 Hela's ghofts the joy fhall feel 
 Joining in the giddy reel ! 
 Lok nor Fenrir fay me nay : 
 'Ti§ Rowenna's holyday. 
 
 She waves her wand ; and injlantly the whole train af 
 Jrozen fpeBres ruJJi to the middle of the /cage, and 
 join in a Jantajlic dance ; while all the vocal charac* 
 ters repeat in 
 
Sc. 4. OF THE LAKE. gl 
 
 Grand Chorus, 
 Wide the iron portals throw. 
 Perjur'd ghofts defcend below. 
 
 Hela's fons the triumph feel, 
 
 Joining in the giddy reel. — 
 
 Lok nor Fenrir fay us nay : 
 
 Tis Rowenna's holiday. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST ACT. 
 
 ACT. II. SCENE L 
 
 Lynn Savadan; or, Langorfe Pool; by Moonlight. 
 
 A Dance of Fairies. 
 
 1. Fairy. While the Moon with filver Iheen 
 Spangles o'er Savadan 's Lake, 
 Fairies to the margent green 
 
 Hade from grotto, bower, and brake 5 
 And in our lunar rites partake. 
 Chorus. Elves from grotto, bower, and brake, 
 1. Fa. Frifk it ! 2. Fa. Frifk it ! 3. Fa. Frifk it ! 
 Ch. Frifk it round the filver lake. 
 
 1 . Fa. Nor ye who, in your golden boat> 
 The water-lily, love to float, 
 
32 THE FAIRY Ad 2. 
 
 Chacing oft, with merry Lay, 
 The beams that o'er the rippling furface play, 
 Thefe our lunar rites forfake. 
 Sem. cho. Elves from grotto, bower, and brake- 
 Fays that {kim Savadan's lake — 
 l. Fa. Ever gay 2. Fa. While ye may. 
 
 1. Fa. Trip it. 2. Fa. Trip it ! 3. Fa. Trip away ! 
 Cho. Join the dance, and join the lay. 
 
 2. Fa. Flowers oppreft by noontide heat 
 
 Let the breath of Fragrance cheer ; 
 And as we brufli with nimble feet, 
 Blights and Mildews difappear. 
 And all that taint the vernal year. 
 Sent, cho, Difappear ! — Difappear ! — Difappear ! — 
 1. Fa. As we whifk it! 2. Fa. Frifk it ! 3. F&. Whifkit! 
 1. Fa. Whifk it ! frifk it! Frifk it ! whifk it— 
 Cho. Let the breath of Fragrance cheer 
 
 The vernal year. 
 
 The Lady of the Lake rifes on a Throne of Spars 
 and Coral, in a car, or water chariot, drawn by 
 Swans. • 
 
 Lady. Enough, ye elves and fairies ! — ye who ride 
 The lunar beam, or on the furface fkim, 
 Buoyant, of lake or rill, or thro mid. air 
 Beftride the goffamer ; and ye who lurk 
 Beneath my bordering fiow'reus, or the leaves 
 Of penfiie fhrubs, that from Savadan's marge 
 Inhale their freffmefs. Well have ye perform'd 
 
Sc. 2. OF THE LAKE. 33 
 
 Your modeft fun&ions, from the irriguoufc haunts, 
 Chacing the Sterrile Fiend, and all the rout 
 That hurt with aguifh fpells, that neither blight, 
 Canker, nor fmut, thro all my favourite bowers, 
 Infect nor worm appears, of power to mar 
 The buds of vernal promife. 'Tis enough. . 
 Now other cares invite ; and other fears 
 Swell in my anxious bofom. Arthur's fate 
 Hangs on the tremulous balance. 
 
 From coral groves and fpar-enc rutted dome, 
 Where, enthron'd in virgin pride, 
 O'er their fecret urns prefide 
 The fedg'd-crown'd fitters fair, 
 Who make the fylvan lakes their care, 
 
 I come. 
 For deep in that fequefter'd home 
 The voice of Anguifli pierc'd my ear, 
 From Lunvey's echoing groves. 
 There where hottile fpells furrounding 
 All his rifmg hopes confounding) 
 Rack his foul with pangs fevere — 
 
 There — ah! there — 
 
 Mourning pining — 
 
 Every blifsful thought refigning — 
 There bewilder'd Arthur roves. 
 
 For him I grieve, 
 For him my coral grots I leave, 
 Yoke mv while fwans. and breathe this terrene air. 
 
34 THE FAIRY Act 2. 
 
 Hafte ye Fairies, hafte ye then — 
 Search the woodland, fearch the glen. 
 For deeds of love forego your vagrant fport. 
 And in my fecret grotto make report, 
 
 Cho. Miftrefs, you fhall be obey'd* 
 
 i. Fa. Sifters each your province take : 
 
 Mount the breeze, or fkim the lake ; 
 Thrid with care the leafy made. 
 2.F. Frifk it ! 3. J. Whifk it! 4. J. Trip it ! $.F. Flit it ! 
 Cho. Miftrefs you fhall be obey'd. [They vanifh. 
 
 The Lady returns to her Car, and the fcene clofes. 
 
 SCENE II. A hanging Viovd on the borders of a little 
 
 Stream. 
 
 Enter Incubus, Jhaking his fingers and rubbing 
 his hands. 
 Who-o-0-0 ! what a poor undone devil am I ! When 
 I am freezing and dangling on the eves of Hela's palace, 
 I do nothing but figh and pray that my nechromantic 
 miftrefs, here, or fome other of my terreftrial employers 
 would be kind enough to Hand in need of my affiftance, 
 and give me a blind-man's holiday, in this warmer atmof- 
 phere ; yet here have I been wandering only two or 
 three hoars, and the fro ft in my joints is converted into 
 To horrible a hot-ache, that I begin to wifh my icicle- 
 fhip had remained undiilurbcd. in the pure ftate of tub- 
 
Sc, 2 OF THE LAKE. 35 
 
 terranean congelation, where The Giants of Froft had 
 fixed me, But the worft is, the night is almofi fpent, 
 and my tafk not completed. A precious cataplafm will 
 be clapped to my fores, I'll warrant, if I defGend to 
 Niflheim again with an imperfecl account of my million. 
 A plague o'that drunken defperado, Triftram ! one 
 by one, I have nabbed all the reft ; and laid the whole 
 Round Table (knights, fquires, and all) as quiet as 
 Mead and Waffail ever laid them at high feftival : but 
 Lok himfelf (the father of all mifchief) cannot get that 
 dragon-eater out of the reach of Arthur's enchanted 
 fword : to hazard the vengeance of which requires a 
 little more of the fool-valiant than belongs to any devil 
 of my kidney. — But hold != --—A plague on all blun- 
 derers ! How came I not to think of that before ? 
 What fort of an angler, for a devil, muft I be, when a 
 Wejchman was to be caught, not to think of Cwrw ? 
 
 Cwrw ! ! Cwrw ! ! '!- — -Cwrw ! ! ! ! ! !— But here 
 
 they come. Bo-peep's the word, and then to my last 
 fhift. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Arthur; and Tristram, drunk, with a tag. 
 
 Arthur. Diffraction ! furies I whether do we rove ? 
 On what enchanted region have we trod, 
 Befet with hellifh fiends ? Mine eyes, deceive — 
 This is not Lunvey. Thefe are not the groves 
 Where once, with fongs prophetic, o'er my head 
 The ininifiering fairies danc'd, touching my lips 
 Wjth charm of fvveeteft numbers, and my limbs 
 
3$ THE FAIRY Act 2. 
 
 (Yet in their infant fwathes) with iron force 
 Nerving refiftlefs. Or, if fuch it be , 
 The Saxon Demons o'er the Ifle prevail, 
 And our Good Spirits leave us. 
 
 Triflram {turning up his cag.J Spirits! O, yes, your 
 honour's highnefs ! — our fpirits are all gone ; that's certain. 
 Here it is, your honour's highnefs ! Round and fleek : 
 — juft the fame big belly it fet out with. But it's de- 
 livered your honour's highnefs ! fairly delivered ; and fo 
 there's an end to our deliverance. 
 
 Hollow ! hollow ! (knocking againjl it with his 
 knuckles) — Hollow a&.a falfe friend, who preaches and 
 moralifes when Neceffity is at the door : and then he 
 rings, juft like this — all bis fwelling words being nothing 
 but emptinefs ! 
 
 Ar. Oh ! Guenever! Guenever ! At fuch a time ! 
 They could not all defert me. Daftards all ! 
 Chieftains renown'd for hardieft enterprife 
 Turn daftards on the fpur? -I'll not believe it. 
 
 Triji. No, your honour's highnefs ! nor little Triftram 
 neither ; any more than he'll believe that his coftrel is a 
 perpetual fpring : and that it is not, there is heavy proof 
 jin all this lightne fs. (Throwing it up and catching it.) 
 Light! light!— Light as a Courtier's promife — or a Court 
 Lady's morals. — O that alight coftrel and a dark deftiny 
 fhould go thus together. — (As he is tojjing the Coftrel 
 about he tumbles.) Seated your honour's highnefs ! — 
 Seated !— But what fignifies feating now ? The round 
 table (placi.ig the cog bejore him) — ah ! your honour's 
 Jiighnefs ! The round table is quite empty* 
 
Sc. 2. OF THE LAKE. 37 
 
 Ar. Significant drunkard ! dofl thou make a feoff 
 And jeft of my afflictions ? 
 
 Trijl. O Lord ! your honour's highnefs ! quite the 
 contrary. Moralifmg, your honour — moralifmg. Infpi- 
 red! — fpiritualifed ! — What were good liquor good for, 
 if it did not put good thoughts into one's head ? 
 
 Ar. It is enchantment all. Demoniac fpells 
 Have fnar'd their feet, and Hell's fuborned nends 
 Have with inceftuous Vortigern confpir'd 
 To mock my high-rais'd hopes. Oh ! facred wax ! 
 (pulling out a pair of Tablets and prejfmg them to his lips) 
 Grav'd with the fweeteft words, by faireft hands — 
 
 And yet how terrible ! Dear, direful proof 
 
 Of chafteli constancy !— This night — this night — 
 
 With fuch a caufe to charm them to their oaths 
 Could they have fled, like recreants ? 
 
 Trift. Fl-e-ed! O yes, your honour's highnefs; flown, 
 
 I'll anfwer for them : but it was at fecond hand ; as they 
 
 trot when they ride o' cockhorfe. Ill fwear by a full 
 
 coilrel — (for it would be but an empty oath to fwear by 
 
 a coftrel that was not full — and would fhew me, as it 
 
 :. to be but a 'fquire of hollow faith) I faw the 
 
 Devil fly away with half a dozen of them. I fup- 
 
 pofe if it had not been for my Guardian Spirit (lifting 
 
 I mould have known myfelf what fort of a 
 
 Devilfhip is. And then — ha! ha! ha! ha! 
 
 Ar. Peace, babbling Jefter ! Art thou too poffeft ? 
 io I ho ! ho ! I beg pardon, your honour's 
 — but iTaith I can't help laughing, to think — 
 ka ! ha ! ha ! if the Devil had laid hold ci me, what a 
 
3 8 THE FAIRY Act 2. 
 
 figure I mould have made, charioteering between a pair 
 of footy wings, with two great horns in my hands, by 
 way of reins, and a huge pair of faucer eyes before me, 
 for lanthorns. — Ho ! ho ! ho !— What a dafh '! 
 
 Ar. (Jlill grafping The Tablets, and gazing upon them 
 with encreafed emotion.) This night—this night — 
 The laft permitted to the anxious calm 
 Of Innocence unviolate !— This Night 
 That, midft the curtain'd filence, ftill fhall talk 
 Of its fucceffor's horrors — of the hour 
 When the foul father lover (fo decreed) 
 Flufh'd from the riotous banquet— lull enflam'd ! — 
 Inebriate to inceft ! Hell is there ! — 
 
 He walks, dijlratledly feveral times, to and fro ; then 
 paufes— opens the tablets again, and 1 reads., 
 
 " This night, this night ! — all means of death remov'd, 
 " (The laft poor refpite tears and prayers could gain) 
 " I give to thoughts of Thee, and to thofe vows 
 ii Of chafteft love inviolate we pledg'd 
 " On Ufk's remember'd banks. This night (yet pure) 
 " I dare to think I am Arthur's. All beyond — 
 
 w All if Gwrtheyrnion's walls — But hafle and fave ! 
 
 " Hafte with thy Warrior Knights- — Oh' ! that this breath, 
 " That never flows but to wing prayers to Heaven 
 
 " For thee and for thy fafety — that this breath 
 
 " But worfe impends — Worfe to thy heart — to mine! 
 a — To mine ! — Oh ! perfecuting Heaven ! that aught 
 " Than Arthur's fafety — Arthur's facred life 
 " Can be more precious to the fhuddering heart 
 " Of his difaftrous Guenever!" 
 
So. 2. OF THE LAKE. 39 
 
 Defpair 
 
 " But hafte and fave ! Hafte with thy warrior knights !" 
 Alas ! where are they ? Ho ! ye recreants, ho ! 
 
 Follow me. Once again, with hopelefs fearch, 
 Thro the night-thickened labyrinths let us wind. 
 Wakening the fallen Echoes ; if perforce, 
 With their reverberate aid, our fhouts may reach 
 
 The chance-bewilder'd ftraglers if but Chance, 
 
 Not Hell, or fouler Treachery, have fapt 
 Their faith till now undoubted.' — Ho ! what ho ! 
 
 My Guenever ! — difaftrous Guenever ! [Exit. 
 
 T?ift. Oh ! my Coftrel ! my fweet, lovely — ■*— 
 
 poor, miferable, empty Coftrel ! 
 
 Aye — There's the Devil ! But for that, the adven- 
 ture would not yet be defperate. There would dill be 
 three of us — the redoubtable T rift ram, the puiffant Ar- 
 thur, and the all-conquering Cwrw : and what could ftand 
 before us? — Caer Gwrtheyrnion ? — Pho ! — nor all the 
 Cares in the univerfe. Why we fhould'n't care for Pan- 
 demonium itfelf. We'd ftorm old Belzebub in his 
 grand keep; and make a rareefhow of all his family. 
 
 Send us, ye Guardian Angels ! fend us but a colirel 
 of Cwrw ! of C — W — R — W. Fai de rol de rol, de ra ra, 
 lollol! (Sings.) 
 
 A large cajk rifes cut of the ground, againft which 
 Tristram runs his nofe as he is reeling out. 
 
 Bawh ! What have we here ? .Ho ! ho ! a cafk ! a 
 cafk. — The prayers of the drunken {hall be heard; for 
 they pray in The Spirit. But what is this ? — Some magical 
 mfcription I fuppofe, O thominiverfal lamplightrefs, — ■ 
 
40 THE FAIRY Act 2. 
 
 thou that fee'ft many a thing that thy elder brother, the 
 Sun, never dreamt of !— lend me thy fpe&acles awhile, 
 that I may fpell. C— W— R— W— Cwrw I !— Spell, 
 indeed — What are your Runic Rhymes, your Riddles, 
 your Pharmaceutrias— your Cabals, your Abracadaberas, 
 to the magical combination of C — W — R — W ? (Sings. 
 
 Of fpells you may talk, 
 
 Writ in ink, blood, or chalk, 
 With which Wizzard and Witch have to do ; 
 
 But each Welchman can tell 
 
 That there never was fpell 
 Like C— W— R— W ! Fal de rol. &c. 
 
 With this fpell, I'll be bound 
 
 To make Nature fpin round, 
 As our boys with their whip-tops can do ; 
 
 And the world all fo fcurvy 
 
 I'd turn topfyturvy 
 With C— W— R— W. Fal de rol ! &c. 
 
 Infpir'd-^-Infpir'd ! If it be But as potent to valour as 
 to'verfe, the bufinefs is done. — And Where's the doubt? 
 What but Cwrw was it, that produced fo many famous 
 heroes of antiquity, from Nimrod to Jack the Giant 
 Killer. (Sings.) 
 
 O, ye heroes renown'd 
 Who fought all the world round — 
 O ! ye Caefars; and fam'd Alexanders ! 
 
OF THE LAKE. 41 
 
 Pray how had ye thriv'd, 
 If of Cwrw deprived ? 
 
 Faith you'ad been juft as valiant as ganders. 
 
 Fal de rol ! &c. 
 If a fecond you want, 
 Then, each foeman to dauntj 
 
 Then, I'll tell you, my boy, what to do ; 
 Never fear to depend 
 On the Welchman's bell friend, 
 
 On C— W— R— W. Fal de rol! &c. 
 
 Bravo! bravo, little Triftram ! One draught of this 
 genuine water of the mufes, and thou wilt eclipie all the 
 Knights of the Round Table, and bear away the prize, 
 in the bardic circles, fiom Talieffin himfelf. But how 
 to get at it ? Oh ! A fpile ! — A fpile ! — I'll anfwer for 
 it then it mail not be fpoiled. (Pulls out the fpile, and 
 the ale begins to run.) Genuine! genuine! entire! I'll 
 be fworn. A choice drop out of the celeflial cellar, 
 brewed by my Guardian Angel for his own private 
 drinking. Let me take itjdevoutly. (Kneeling) Now, 
 now fhall I be famous, or the devil is in it. (Drinks. 
 The head cf the Cajk flies off, cut of which Incubus 
 rifes, and feizes him by the ears.) 
 
 Inc. Aye, and in it he is : little as you might expect it. 
 (The cajk finks down and leaves Tristram in the 
 clutches o/Incubus.) 
 
 Trifl. (Shivering.) . Who-o-o-who are you, and be~e 
 hanged to you ? 
 
 Inc. A devil ! 
 
42 THE FAIRY Act 2, 
 
 Trijl. The-e-e devil you are. Wha-a-at the devil 
 makes my teeth chatter fo then ? In fuch hands, I fhould 
 have expected to be frying in my own greafe. 
 
 Inc. Aye, that's becaufe you don't know what fort of 
 devil you have to deal with, my little Triftram. I am 
 none of your bon-fire devils come to entertain you 
 with fquibs and crackers, and birth-day rockets and illu- 
 minations: but a good thorough icicle devil, from the 
 regions of Hela : where I have been freezing, under 
 the North Pole, for more than half a century. 
 
 Trijl. Fre-e-e-ezing with a ve-e-e -engeance ! 
 
 Zounds lam fro-o-o-o-ozen too. I-i-i-i can't 
 
 get to my fw-o-o-o-ord. 
 
 Ar-r-r r- Arthur ! 
 Inc. Vainly you for Arthur call : 
 
 Your very words are frozen all : 
 They (hall never reach bis ear. 
 Trijl. Ar-r-r-r Arthur ! Arthur ! co-o-o-onie away. 
 
 I am loo o-o-loft if yo-u-u-u delay. 
 Inc. Trull me he fhall never hear. 
 
 Your words are frozen. 
 
 Trijl. So-o-o-o I -fear'. 
 
 Inc. Thus upon my prey I feize. 
 Trijl. I freeze — I freeze— I fre-e-eze ! " 
 
 Ar-r-r Arthur ! — Ar-r-r Arthur. 
 Inc. Tis in vain Your lungs you {train. 
 
 Trift. I-i-i-i — I fee it plain. 
 
 Inc. Vaffctl hind ! Your voice I bind — 
 
 Trijl, S o o-o o I find — 
 
Sc. 2. OF THE LAKE. 43 
 
 Inc. In Vindfualer's icy chain 
 
 Trijl. W-w-w-w-wind ! wind fwallow ! 
 
 Cold and hollow ! 
 Inc. Grim Vindfualer ! Winter's fire ! 
 Trijl. Ar-r-r-r Arthur ! Arthur ! O-o-o-oh ! a fire ! 
 Inc. Tis in vain; Fruitlefs pain; Thus to ftrain. 
 
 Arthur, Arthur cannot hear. 
 Trijl. So-o-o-o-o I fear. Inc. It is clear. 
 So, little Triftram ? come you here. 
 My potent miftrefs thus to pleafe, 
 Upon my fhivering prey I feize. 
 Trijl. I fre-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e- eze ! 
 Cho. of Knights without. We fre - e - e = e - e - e = eze ! 
 Tristram Jinks down in a fate of torpor ; over- 
 powered by the benumbing influence of the Demon ; 
 and Incubus drags him off the Jl age. 
 
 Re-enter Arthur. 
 
 Triftram ! Triftram !— Art thou alfo gone ? 
 Vanifh'd thro air ? or fwallow'd by the earth ? 
 The. laft of all my hoft ! Infernal fiends ! 
 Are there no means to reach ye ? Out good fword ! 
 Whofe tenfold temper, fteep'd in myftic dews 
 By the fair regent of Savadan's lake, 
 No goblin fpell refifts. On ftocks and ftones. 
 And each ambiguous thing my eyes (hall meet, 
 I'll try its force. If chance fome lurking fiend 
 Start up reveal'd; ere now this arm, unftaid, 
 Hath tam'd fuch foes, and to their hoftile hell 
 Difinifs'd them howling. Nerve it now, ye powers 
 
44 THE FAIRY Act. 2. 
 
 Who fmile on virgin innocence. I ftrike 
 
 In Nature's caufe; for love and Gueneverl [Exit, 
 
 SCENE III. Enter Fairies. 
 i. Fa. Sifters ! Sifters ! 2. Fa. Whift ye ! Whift ! 
 1. Fa. Tell me— tell me what ye lift. 
 3 Fa. Things of moment hover nigh. 
 j. Fa. Who can read them. 2 Fa. I. 3 Fa. And I. 
 Cho. Things of moment hover nigh. 
 1. Fa. Sifters ! Sifters ! 2. Fa. Lift ye ! Lift ! 
 
 3. Fa. Tell me fairies what ye wift ? 
 
 1. Fa, Tell me what ye read on high ? 
 
 2. Fa. Fading ftars, 3. Fa* And morning nigh. 
 
 1. Fa. Who can fee it ? 2. Fa. J. 3. Fa. And I. 
 Cho. To the Grotto — hafte away, 
 
 4. Fa. You havefeenit? l.F. Aye! 2.F. Aye! 3.i^Aye! 
 Cho. To the Grotto whifp away. 
 
 1. Fa. Frifk it ! 2. Fa. Whifkit! 
 
 3. Fa. Trip it! 1. F. Whip it. 
 
 4. Fa. To the Grotto - — flit away ! 
 
 Cho, What we've witnefs'd there difplay. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV The Lake, feen in a new afpeEl. The Sun 
 fifing above the neighbouring mountains. 
 
 Enter Rowenna [attended.] 
 The (hades of night difperfc, and o'er the hills 
 (The Eaftern bound of Cambria) Balder's ileed 
 Kuihes with reinjefs neck, and to the winds 
 
Sc. 4. OF THE LAKE. 45 
 
 Gives his bright mane of orient, ftreaming far 
 
 Thro the illumin'd fky. The dazzling ray, 
 
 With tint reflective, over ft ream and lake, 
 
 Plays with the morning breeze; and leaf and flow'r, 
 
 Moift with the tears of evening, bend furcharg'd 
 
 With mimic radiance : every cryftal fphere 
 
 Pencil'd with rays minute — as tho inftinft, 
 
 Each with its fairy fun — a fairy world. 
 
 'Tis fplendour all, and gladnefs — All but here, 
 
 Where one lov'd objeft, rilling every thought, 
 
 Blots out Creation. Sound nor fight can pleafe, 
 
 But what relates to Arthur ; and this hope 
 
 Of quick poffeflion, from the Fatal maids, 
 
 With poignant expectation but enflames 
 
 The frenzy it fhould footh. 
 
 In vain empaflion'd Hope I feed 
 
 With promis'd boons of hovering joy : 
 
 The expected blifs, by Fate decreed, 
 Doubts and chilling fears annoy. 
 
 In vain the empaflion'd heart to eafe, 
 The fplendid fcenes of morn I trace : 
 
 Whate'er the raptur'd eye mould pleafe, 
 Doubts and chilling fears deface. 
 
 Diftra&ing doubts, and chilling fears 
 What touch of fenfe can charm away ? 
 
 A bfenk the fmiling dawn appears : 
 And mute to me the vernal lay. 
 
46 THE FAIRY Act 2. 
 
 Propitious Goddefs ! hear my pray'r ! 
 
 Nor long the promis'd blifs delay : 
 The fmiling morn (hall then be fair, 
 
 And Rapture tune the vernal lay, 
 
 Near to this fpot, among the bordering woods — 
 So fung the Fatal Sifters ( and the fong 
 But now the oafifh Incubus conhrm'd) 
 My Arthur roves, now ifolate. O guide 
 His fteps, benignant Frea ! that mine eyes 
 May gaze to fulnefs, and my pleaded love 
 Effay his fecret heart. Tis heard. He comes : 
 With what a temped gathering on his brow ! ~ . 
 
 Yet lovely in his anger. We'll obferve 
 A while, unnoted, till the ftorm is fpent : 
 Then, o'er the waves fubfiding, Love (hall (mile ; 
 And woo The Bird of Peace. [They retire 
 
 Enter Arthur. 
 
 Arth. 'Tis fruitlefs fearch — ■ 
 I toil myfelf in vain. Enchantment here 
 Dwells not— or dwells beyond the boafted reach 
 Of gifted countercharm. And, lo ! the Sun, 
 
 Climbing his fouthering arch, with gilded fmile, 
 Mocks at my bootlefs rage ; while grove and vale, 
 Mountain, and headlong ft ream, and placid lake 
 Shine in the record of my baffled hopes, 
 My fhame, and my diftraclion. 
 
 Row. Oueen of (miles ! 
 Who blend'ft confentin^ hearts in mutual blifs, 
 
So. 4. OF THE LAKE. 47 
 
 Be it my tafk to footh him. 
 
 Arth. Ye twin heights 
 Of bleak Farim'och ! — Ye whofe alpine heads 
 Catch the firft rays of Morning ! I had hopes, 
 Ere down your floping fides encroaching light 
 Had chac'd the lingering fhadows, o'er your brow 
 (Girt with my warrior knights in firm array) 
 To have pour'd the fhout of battle ; on the walls 
 Of doom'd Gwrtheyrnion, like the vollying cloud, 
 To have burft in direful thunders ; broke the chains 
 Of Saxon ufurpation; from the rape 
 Of threaten'd inceft fnatch'd the weeping maid, 
 And hung the wreaths of Love on Glory's fane. 
 
 Row. Empire, and Love, and Glory ! Frea, hear— 
 Make them the three-fold dower, " When Authur's hand 
 £t Shall light the flame in which my woes expire!" 
 
 I feel confenting Heav'n. Some whifper'd voice 
 Tells me the prayer is heard : — perchance the maid 
 Whom frequent The Propitious Goddefs fends 
 To cheer the love-lorn votary. (She comes forward.) 
 
 Arthur, hail ! 
 One not to Grief unknown your grief's would heal. 
 
 Arth. (wrapt in foliloquy^ and not obferving her.) 
 Sweet bud of virgin innocence ! mall he, 
 The inceftuous father, blaft thy opening charms, 
 And rifle thy pure fragrance ? while mine arm 
 (Awful in foreign conflict) here, at home, 
 Sinks palfied, and, in Love's, — in Nature's caufe, 
 
 Hangs powerlefs by my fide ! -O Guenever ! 
 
 Soul of my foul ! — Oh charms, above all charm ! 
 
48 THE FAIRY Act 2' 
 
 Trancendant in their lovelinefs ! once deem'd 
 My fole fequefter'd treafure ! — Paradife 
 Of all my thoughts ! and of my nightly dreams 
 Sole vifitant— when, pure as winnow'd inows, 
 That from the peaky Vans, till fpring matures. 
 Gleam on the dazzled traveller, thou cam'ft, 
 With funny fmiles of fanclity and love, 
 Bleffing my pillow cl flumber. — Guenever ! 
 Hope's vital fountain ! — 
 
 Row. (aftde) Progeny of Lok ! 
 Does Fenrir howl this difcord in mine ear ? 
 Or charnel Grymer bark ?— What founds are thefe ? 
 Where is thy promife, Frea ? — Schulda, where 
 Thy hopes oracular ? 
 
 Arih. Oh ! Sweet of Sweets ! 
 Perfonified perfection ! — tint ! and form ! 
 And types of inward excellence ! that fhines 
 Thro the tranfparcnt veil. Eyes ! lips ! and cheeks 
 Vermeil'd with angel modefty ! and fwell 
 Of foft ingenuous bofom, yet unfunn'd 
 By Love's prefumptuous gaze ! — all Vonigerns ? — 
 Inceftuous Vonigerns ! 
 
 Row. Can I bear this ? 
 Furies of Hela's f hades ! Ye Fiends of Storm ! 
 What are your tempefts to the tempeft here ? 
 Are thefe my hopes ? Down, down, my ftruggling foul, 
 And truft The Fates, Be calm; or thou art loft. 
 
 [She retires. 
 Arth. Willi what a Iengthen'd ftride the luftful Sun 
 Haftens the hour of horrors: towards the couch 
 
Sc. 4. OF THE LAKE, 49 
 
 Of weftern Thetis draining $ ere as yet 
 
 The blufh of parting from her orient cheek 
 
 The winnowing winds have brufh'd. 
 
 Check, check thy fpeed! 
 Reftrain thy bridegroom hafie : awhile forego 
 The fiery track, 'till pitying heav'n afford 
 Means of preventive vengeance : from the clouds 
 That curtain thy repofe, left Hefper thruft 
 His guilty lamp, to mark the fated hour 3 
 And light the tyrant Vortigern to deeds 
 That make Hell tremble. 
 
 R owe N.N a (re-entering, with Edelthred, at a 
 dijlance.) Paffion makes him (till : 
 But I am calm, in confidence renew'd, 
 And wait predicted blifs. 
 
 Arih. My pray'rs are vain. 
 I war with woman's weapons : fall'n — reduc'd 
 To woman's impotence ; with fenfelefs brawl 
 Difturbing the calm elements, that laugh 
 My rage to fcorn. Come then, thou fullen Calm 
 Of confcious defperation, thro my foul 
 Breathe thy narcotic influence— fleep each nerve 
 In opiate dews, and o'er each maddening fenfe, 
 Bewilder'd, from their chilling urns pour forth 
 Thy inanefcent torpors, till no more 
 Reflection wakes, and dull Oblivion drop 
 The vail by Fancy lifted. 
 
 Row. (afide.) Be it fo, 
 Benignant Frea ! then to other fcenes, 
 G 
 
50 THE FAIRY Act 
 
 Joyous, awake reviving Confcioufnefs, 
 Made happy in the change ! 
 
 Arthur, Hear, hear them not — 
 Hear not the fhrieks, my foul, that, thro the gloom, 
 Rending Gwrtheyrnion's towers, with vain appeal, 
 Call on the name of Arthur. — Reft thou here, 
 My wearied foul — reft here ; even on this oak, 
 Which, ere matur'd, the lightning's fork hath fcath'd, 
 Or Whirlwind's arm lopt brief :— here fit and mufe 
 In moralifing vacancy, abridg'd 
 Of vital virtue ; like this faplefs trunk, 
 To lift no more the flourifhing head to heaven, 
 Or fpread the arms of fhelter. 
 
 Row. Edelthred, 
 The ftorm is paft. — Lift how to murmurs foft, 
 And wailings inarticulate, fubfides 
 The roaring furge of paffion. Shall I fpeak ; 
 Or wait the heavings of thefe waves, that yet 
 Would lafh themfelves to ftilnefs ? 
 
 Arth. You, ye Pomps 
 Of unavailing war — fire-plumed helm, 
 And burnifh'd fliield emblazori'd; and thou gift 
 Of her my fometime guardian, lie ye there, 
 Till the flow ruft confumes; Or o'e,r your fame 
 The monumental weed, with unfhorn head, 
 Bends vailing : for no more fhall Arthur's arm, 
 That fail'd to refctie Guenever, de.fcend 
 On dint of meaner argument to try 
 Your charmed temper. 
 
Sc 4. , OF THE LAKE, 5 1 
 
 He throws away, his helmet, his fhield, and his en- 
 chanted /word ; and, /eating him/elf in a difconfolate 
 attitude, upon the Jhattered Oak, continues to pore upon 
 the ground, .in vacant agony. 
 
 Row. Pad my beft hopes ! — 
 Propitious Frea ! now the webb untwines 
 Spun by The Deftinies. The magic fword 
 Falls from his grafp, unconfcious :— now no more 
 From power of Runic verfe, or magic fpell, 
 Or from Rowenna's charmed wand exempt. 
 My Fates prevail. Agga ! my rod- — my rod ! 
 
 \_EnUr Agga, with the wand. Rowenna waves it 
 over the head o/Arthur; and uvjleeps. ] 
 
 Sleep on his troubled lids awhile defcend, 
 Till we the charm of Runic numbers end. 
 
 Evles who ftiun the chilly moon ! 
 
 Demons of the fultry noon ! 
 Refponfe^ Whofe the voice that now afcends 
 oj'fpirits J The abodes of Alfheim ? 
 Edel. Hers who rends 
 
 With fpells the pitchy vail of Night— 
 Agg. And blots the fettled orbs of light. 
 
 Row. Demons of the fultry noon ! 
 
 My call attend. 
 Refp. Soon we greet thee — miftrefs, foon. 
 Row* But not in gorgon pomp defcend. 
 
5* THE FAIRY Act 2, 
 
 EdeL Far hence, ye haggard forms of Fear ! 
 Horror, vail'd in mirky brow, 
 Rage, that fcorns the Pitying tear, 
 Griefs, that low to Hertha bow. 
 Other forms than thefe muft move 
 
 Soft confent, Sweet content- 
 Soft confent and mutual love ! 
 Refp. Other forms than thefe mail move 
 Soft confent and mutual love, 
 
 Agg. Hafte in dimpled fmiles array'd 
 Such as fport in Frea's train, 
 When flie tempts the blufhing maid, 
 Half afraid, To the (hade, 
 Sighing, dying, where the fwain 
 Fears the promis'd blifs delay 'd. 
 Rgfp* Such the fmiling forms that move 
 Soft confent, and mutual love. 
 
 Row. Thus, to weave the myflic chain. 
 Demons of the Noon repair : 
 But to vulgar eyes remain 
 Viewlefs as impaflive air, 
 
 A troop of Demons rufh on the flage, in the f ambiance 
 of winged boys, crowned with wreaths of flowers, and 
 arrayed in effeminate apparel. — Strings of rofes in 
 their hands; with which they link themfelves together, 
 in intricate circles, and dance round Arthur, as 
 hejleeps. Others play with his armour, and one, of fupe- 
 rior fize and appearance, tales pojfe.fjion cfhisfword. 
 
Sc. 4. OF THE LAKE. 53 
 
 Row. The charm of Runic numbers now complete — 
 From Arthur's eyes ye drowfy fumes retreat. 
 Awake to Joy — for every joy is here 
 To charm the eye and footh the liftening ear. 
 
 Cho. Joy fmcere Hovers near; 
 
 Wake to fee; and wake to hear. 
 
 Arth. What antic troop are ye, whofe mid-day dreams 
 Difturb a wretch's (lumbers ? Hence ! Avaunt ! 
 
 ffe endeavours to dif entangle himfelf. They encircle him 
 with their fillet 5, &c. Singing the following Glee, 
 
 Doughty hero ! lay afide 
 Sullen looks and martial pride : 
 Love and Pleafure wait you here, 
 Love and Pleafure, 
 Without meafure, 
 Ope their treafure : 
 Melting Love, and Joy fmcere ! 
 Cho. Love and Pleafure revel here. 
 
 Arth. My Sword ! My Sword ! 
 
 They laugh and dance round him ; twining their fillets 
 clofer and clofer : and repeating^ in chorus. 
 
 Doughty hero ! lay afide 
 Sullen looks and martial pride : 
 Love and Pleafure revel here. 
 
 Arth. Diftraction ! Infamy! infnar'd! inthrall'd ! 
 Bound in a fillet, like fome harlot's toy ! 
 
54 THE FAIRY Act 2. 
 
 This-— only this, was wanting to complete 
 My fum of w retched nefs. 
 
 Row. Of rapture fay : 
 For fuch I come to offer. Generous Arthur ! 
 Too long by an unworthy flame inthrall'd 
 To an inceftuous wanton : lo ! my Charm 
 Shall fet you free: and on a worthier choice 
 Empire and Love await, and death lefs Fame. 
 
 In the bofom of youth fay what wifhes can glow 
 That my power cannot grant, or my favour bellow ? 
 Thefe beauties that monarchs have ftruggled to gain, 
 I offer unafk'd.— — Shall I offer in vain ? 
 No ; heart with heart meeting, and clafp'd in thefe arms, 
 Your bofom (hall throb to foft paffion's alarms. 
 
 Heart to heart fondly beating ! 
 
 Our vows ftill repeating ! 
 Reclining ! Refigning To paffions alarms — 
 
 Our bofoms ftill throbbing !— -enfolding our arms ! 
 
 Then the fceptre of Britain, by Schulda decreed 
 
 To await on my love, I prefent as thy meed. 
 
 Thefe beauties that monarchs have ftruggled to gain, 
 
 I offer thus dower'd. — Can I offer in vain ? 
 
 While thus, with, heart meeting, I ftretch forth my arms, 
 
 Ambition and Beauty uniting their charms, 
 
 Can your heart coldly beating, 
 
 From Rapture retreating, 
 Difdaining ! Refraining From paffions alarms, 
 
 An Empire relinquifh, and fly from thefe arms? 
 
Sc. 4. OF THE LAKE. 55 
 
 Then my magic mall aid, and my verfe fhall record 
 
 All the deathlefs exploits of your lanee, and your fword; 
 
 And the glory that heroes have ftruggled to gain 
 
 I offer fecure. — Shall I offer in vain ? 
 
 No ; heart to heart beating, and clafp'd in thefe arms 
 
 Love, Glory, and Empire fhall mingle their charms. 
 
 Heart to heart fondly beating ! 
 
 Our vows ftill repeating ! 
 Reclining ! Refigning To paffions alarms 
 
 Our bofoms Rill throbbing ! — enfolding our arms ! 
 
 Arth, Sorcerefs of Elb! devoted Britain's curfe ! 
 Hence with thy wanton chant. Tho thus inthraU'd — 
 Betray'd by Love's affliction (fentient there 
 Beyond a maiden's foftnefs) in thefe bonds 
 Powerlefs I {land, yet can my foul difdain 
 Thy blandifh'd witcheries. A Crown from thee ? 
 Love, Glory, and Ambition ! Are they things 
 Of fuch abhor'd conjunction as to blend 
 ,, With thy pollutions ? — I'd abjure them, then- 
 Flee to fome hermit's cave — unfex myfelf, 
 And, in the mirkieft mine, drudge out, in toil 
 Obfcene, and fervile bonds, the dregs of life 
 Difhonour'd. For the World to Chaos runs— 
 The bieffed Sun no more his luflrous beam 
 Sheds on created order, if fuch gifts 
 Depend upon fuch givers. 
 
 Row. Down my heart !— 
 Injurious Arthur! even this from thee, 
 Roweriha's love can pardon. 
 
5$ THE FAIRY Act 2. 
 
 Arth. Love! — Thy Love? 
 The love of Vortigern's polluted wife ? 
 
 Row. The love of her who was, erewhile, the wife 
 Of the polluted Vortigern. But crimes 
 Like his diflblve the fettled charities 
 Of conjugal affiance. 
 
 Arth. O ! no doubt 
 With Purity like thine. And he who (urg'd 
 By lures, by incantations, and the bowl 
 Spic'd with lafcivious philters) made thee room 
 For royal fpoufals in a murderer's bed — 
 He who, feduc'd by thy idolatrous faith, 
 Forgot the chafte affinities that link 
 The focial frame of Nature — 
 
 Row. Speak— Speak out. 
 
 Why does thy ftruggling foul forbear to name 
 What yet it dwells on moll ? — He whofe vile luft 
 Makes wanton revel in a daughter's arms — 
 (The arms of Guenever !} deferves to pay 
 The deftin'd forfeit of his crime, and hers. 
 
 Arth. His crime and Hers ! Makes wanton revel! Hers 
 
 He has not fure 
 
 Row. No fure. The diligent fpeea 
 With which me fcap'd his cuftody, what time 
 (Dreadful in Saxon (laughter) you puiTu'd 
 This father lover headlong thwart the realm, 
 Proves with what fix'd abhorrence fhe regards 
 His la^vlefs love, and how prepar'd fhe (lands 
 To act the virgin coynefs fhe profefles. 
 
 Arth. DiflraBion ! Furies ! 
 
Sc, 4, OF THE LAKE, 57 
 
 Row. What if now my art 
 Should ftretcri thy vifion thro intruding fpace — 
 Rendering the opaque of matter to thy fight 
 Pervious and clear (for fo by fpells I can,) 
 And fhew thee thy delufion — fhew, reveal'd. 
 Their prefent acl: ! and in what amorous folds 
 They wanton, fhamelefs ? 
 
 Arth. Give me firft my fword j 
 Touched by wbofe virtue each delufive birth 
 Of magic dies— abortive : elfe thy fpell, 
 Mocking the couzen'd fenfes, might betray, 
 And damn me with illufion. Eafier far 
 To clothe fome air- drawn phantom in the form 
 Of her thy hate calumniates , than to pierce 
 With ftretch of human ken (however marpen'd) 
 Yon mountain's, peaky mafs, that bars the fight 
 Towards Gwrtheyrnion. 
 
 Sorcerefs ! doft thou blench 
 The late-flufh'd cheek, and, with abated eye, 
 Admit detection ? Yes ; thou ftand'ft reveal'do 
 
 Henceforth thy arts at lower quarry fly ; 
 Nor think to taint, with nechromantic frauds, 
 The fame of Guenever, whofe virtue towers, 
 (Tranfcendent, like her beauty) far above 
 Thy foul contaminations : like the orb 
 That rules the tranquil night — luftrous and pure !— 
 That on the wolfifh howl of Calumny 
 Smiles, and fhines on, unaker'd. 
 
 Row. Death to Hope I 
 This conftancy appals me : and my foul 
 
 H 
 
58 THE FAIRY Jd 2- 
 
 Scarce in The Fatal Sifters more confides, 
 Or Frea's whifper'd promife. Yet remains 
 One only effort. Bind him faft, ye elves, 
 With your enchanted braids. His eyes fhall fee 
 Within Gwrtheyrnion's walls — his ears fhall hear 
 What diftant he regards not. 
 
 Yes, by Hela! (afide.j 
 Charm-bound from voice or motion, he fhall vie*w 
 The confummated rape; and his fick foul, 
 Loathing what now he dotes on, fhall refign 
 To her predeflin'd fate this hated fhe — 
 This vaunted Paragon. Then, Vortigern, 
 Thy Cup awaits thee; and my Arthur's hand- 
 Shall light the flame in which my woes expire. 
 
 My Fate is in my hand. 
 I feel my kindling paffions move, 
 Great with Vengeance, great with Love ! 
 Prophetic fcenes of promis'd rapture rife; 
 
 Doubts difperfe, and hopes expand. 
 Away with fuppliant fighs ! 
 Hope returns : Dejection flies : 
 I feel the kindling paffions rife : 
 My Fate is in my hand. 
 
 As they are binding Arthur, a fymphony of foft mu- 
 
 Jic is heard from the Lake, The Lady rifts in her 
 
 Car. The Demons drop the fword 9 L£c. in great 
 
 confirmation-, and difpcrfing^ are fcen flying thro the 
 
 air, in their proper appearances of deformity ; with a 
 
Sc. 4. OF THE LAKE. 59 
 
 confufed and fearful clamour. Rowenna and her 
 Attendants run out on the oppofitefide. 
 
 Lady. Goblins avaunt ! nor impious, thus profane 
 My fylvan confines and irriguous reign. 
 
 And thou, brave Prince ! behold again reftor'd 
 Thy rav.ifh'd freedom, and thy magic fword : 
 For, not forgetful of my former love, 
 Your griefs afflict, me, and your dangers move. 
 Your weak defpair yourfelf will freely blame : 
 Go, — force your pardon in the field of fame. 
 Your Knights and Squires already marmall'd ftand, 
 By me redeem' d, and wait for your command, 
 Refrefh'd and vigorous from the genial right, 
 They burn impatient, and demand the fight ; 
 Not far remote from yon embowering fcreen. 
 My inftant power fhall waft you to the fcene. 
 
 SCENE V. She waves her trident; and the fcene infant- 
 iy changes to a thicket at the foot of The Beacons. 
 
 The Knights of the Round Table appear as 
 juft rifng from their repaf. — Taliessin and other 
 Bards — playing on their harps. Horfes ranged on 
 each fide of the f age ; and the 'Squires holding them. 
 Flourifh. 
 
 As the Knights perceive Arthur, they foci 
 around him; and Taliessin fings the following 
 Air— 
 
60 THE FAIRY 4tf 2, 
 
 Arthur comes, to Britain dear : 
 Bid the brazen trumpets blow. 
 
 Led by him, we cannot fear 
 Civil rage or foreign foe. 
 
 Chorus of Bards and Knights. 
 
 Arthur hail ! to Britain dear : 
 Loud ye brazen trumpets blow. 
 
 Led by Thee, we cannot fear 
 
 Civil rage, or foreign foe . \Flourijh. 
 
 Arik No thanks, my gallant comrades ! Tisnotime 
 For verbiage now. We'll write our courtefies 
 Deep on the foemen's backs. Gwrtheyrnion falls. 
 My fword is out. The word is— Guenever. 
 \They draw, Flouri/h. 
 
 Tal. Let the ftreaming banner fly. 
 
 Wave your flaming falchions high, 
 Guenever, and Victory! 
 
 Cho. See the ftreaming banner fly. 
 See our falchions flaming high, 
 Guenever, and Viclory ! 
 
 Lady. Go, friends of Virtue, Honour, Juftice, Love \ 
 Confirm your Glory, and your worth approve. 
 To higher powers I now refign my care, 
 Then feek my fparry Grot and coral Chair. 
 
Sc. 5. OF THE LAKE. 6 I 
 
 Thee — fire-eye'd Seraph ! — thee, 
 That, on thy faphir throne, 
 
 Among The Spheres, 
 With ever-wakeful miniftry, 
 Brac'd in adamantine zone, 
 Mak'ft fea-girt Albion's caufe thy own — » 
 Thee , whom the Warrior Hoft reveres ! 
 Thee , whom the bleeding Battle fears ! 
 On thee I call. 
 As oft thy guardian care hath fpread 
 The fhield of fafety o'er the Patriot's head, 
 Bidding the iron tempeft vainly fall, 
 
 Propitious now on Arthur fmile, 
 And guard the warrior boaft of Britain's ifle 
 From Foes uplifted mace, and Treafon's fecret thrall. 
 Cho. Thee! whom the warrior hoft reveres — 
 Thee ! whom the bleeding Battle fears — - 
 On thee we call ! 
 
 TaL Spread the fervour — fpread the fong, 
 Spread the martial flame along, 
 
 Rum to fight with loud acclaim ; 
 W r arm'd by that Seraphic Power 
 Who, high-enthron'd in empyrean bower. 
 Watchful for Albion, joys to wield 
 
 The fword of flame; 
 And the adamantine fhield, 
 Amid'ft the direful conflict, fpreads 
 
 O'er the confecrated heads 
 Of chiefs devote to patriot fame. 
 
62 THE FAIRY Act 2. 
 
 Chorus, Spread the fervour — fpread the long — 
 Spread the martial flame along. 
 
 Ar. Sound drums and trumpets. — Bid the martial fife 
 Pierce the charm'd ear of Valour. Sound the charge. 
 The caufe is Freedom, Love, and Guenever ! 
 
 Chorus. Wave the falchion — couch the fpear— 
 Blow the brazen trumpet, blow. — 
 Arthur leads : we cannot fear 
 Civil rage, or foreign foe. 
 
 The Lady of the Lake defcends, while the 
 Knights march acrofs the flage in order of attack^ 
 amidft ajlourifh of martial injlruments. 
 
 END OF THE SECOND ACT. 
 
 ACT. III. SCENE I. 
 
 The infide of the Cafile Gwrtheymion. Several few ants 
 crofs the flage ; bearing boughs and firings of flowers, 
 difaes, Goblets, &c. as in preparation for a fumptuous 
 banquet. 
 
 Enter Tristram and Scout. 
 Trifl. Well, here we are, Scout, found wind and 
 limb, within the Cattle. Our adventure begins under 
 moll happy aufplces. Our tale of defection paffes 
 
Sc. U OF THE LAKE. 63 
 
 mufter, without fufpicion. Our proffered afliftance 
 Teems to be very acceptable : and thefe preparations be- 
 token no meagre reception. One would think we bad 
 followed the heel of Victory, rather than trod on the 
 toe of approaching A6lion. 
 
 Scout. Toe ! brother Triftram ! why 'tis the very 
 corn we have trod on, to tell my mind o' the matter. 
 Would we were well thro with it. It is a project big 
 with dangers. 
 
 Trift. Big with water, like a dropfy, you well-hunter I 
 You fwill your coward Fears with the draught of Tem- 
 perance, as you call it, till every kilderkin of apprehen- 
 fion becomes a butt; while I, with more inebriate wif- 
 dom, never fee dangers, but by reflection, on the out- 
 fide of a goblet, or at the bottom of a well polifhed 
 tankard; where the convexity of the medium diminifhes 
 their proportions and fhrinks them into infignificance. 
 
 But away to your tafk. There is no time to lofe. 
 And as Providence has bieft thee with a fine lying face of 
 thy own, honour thy creator by making the mod of it. 
 
 Scout. Never fear me. Remember but your own 
 part as fioutly. 
 
 Trijl. Mine. Pho ! my memory is on the edge of 
 my fword : — keen and durable. Do you but lie and 
 wriggle and intrigue through the firft part of the bufi- 
 nefs — if I do not fight thro the other, may I never be 
 drunk again with the 'Squires of the Round Table. So 
 away to your quirks and your quibbles, and contrive to 
 give the princefs Guenever an item of what is in agitation. 
 Remember — the lone tower is the Dlace. You will find 
 
64 THE FAIRY Ad. 3, 
 
 my Sword and me at the draw bridge, at the time ap- 
 pointed. [Exit Scout. 
 
 In the mean time, as I am no dab at intrigue, I will 
 endeavour to kill time* till the time of killing arrives, 
 with fome fool's fport among thefe fcullions. [Exit* 
 
 SCENE IL The Servants^ &c. JIM continue crojfmg 
 the Stage. 
 
 Enter Rowenna, mujing. 
 
 46 When the bowl again goes round, 
 " And Vortigern his fleep profound 
 
 " Heedlefs quaffs !" < 
 
 O I impotence of memory ! to o'erlook 
 
 The fated fign, and, with diforder'd fpeed, 
 
 Anticipate my deftinies ! For this 
 
 My Gods forfake me : to the adverfe power 
 
 Of dull Savadan's elfin regent elfe 
 
 Not obvious. But with happier omens now, 
 
 And preordain'd progreffion, I advance 
 
 The twofold work of Fate. Why aye — proceed 
 
 Ye menial herd — Mechanic inftruments — 
 
 Unconfcious pivots in the ftate machine 
 
 With which the powerful work ! — prepare the feaft — 
 
 Drefs up the joyous hall, with boughs, and braids 
 
 Of flaunting fragrance — hung be every feat 
 
 With fweets coronal ; and the banquet heap 
 
 To feign'd Conciliation : nor fufpecl 
 
 What Fate and I determine. Vortigern I 
 
Sc. 2. OF THE LAKE. 6$ 
 
 Now feed thy foul voluptuous. Hafle — prepare 
 
 To revel out thy laft : for, even now, 
 
 The bowl is pregnant ; and the ambrofial draught 
 
 Teems with thy fate matur'd. Soon — foon he quaffs — 
 
 Quaffs his laft fleep profound. Then comes the crown 
 
 Of all my feverifh hopes ; and Arthur's hand 
 
 Lights up the flame in which my woes expire. 
 
 But, lo ! the Banquet waits. I go to greet 
 At once the nuptial, and funereal treat. 
 Yet, ere on Frea's name I dare to call, 
 Defcend ye handmaids of the fhield-roof 'd hall. 
 
 Sifters three, in fearful ft ate, 
 Who at Valhalla's banquet wait, 
 
 Watching the nod 
 Of him, fupreme, The Warrior God, 
 Who, midft the genial rite, 
 While blithe the amber goblet circles round, 
 Thro you, inflicTts the deftin'd wound, 
 
 And thins the ranks of fight ! 
 
 On you, who wait by Woden's fide, 
 
 (The daftard's dread, the warrior's pride) 
 
 I call- 
 To hover round Gwrtheyrnion's hall, 
 
 And o'er the funeral — nuptial feaft prefide. \ Exit* 
 
66 THE FAIRY Ad 
 
 SCENE III. Enter Tristram, armedwith /word and 
 Target ; The Seneschal, and a Sewer. 
 
 Trijl. And fo we are to have feafting before fighting ? 
 mailer Senefchal ! 
 
 Senefchal. Aye — and good reafons there be, mafter 
 Newcomer. 
 
 Triji. Aye — I hope the Raifins are good, mafter 
 Senefchal, or they will make an ill part of the defert. 
 But, for reafons lefs eatable, which be they ? 
 
 Sen. They be three in number, mafter Newcomer. 
 
 Triji. Hem! — Three! — But three is a favourite 
 number, I believe , among you Scandinavians. 
 
 Sen. True, mafter Newcomer — and for good reafoa. 
 It is myftical and facred. For example- — there be three 
 fons of Beor (Woden, Vile, and Ve) who knock'd the 
 giant Ymer o' the head, created the world out of his 
 carcafe, and fet his brains a flying thro the air for clouds. 
 
 Trijl. Hum ! — A hum ! I can fmell it. (Afidt.)— 
 A pretty piece of flefh, at this rate, your Ymer muft 
 have been , mafter Senefchal. — And yet, upon fecond 
 thoughts, he was. but a moody, muddy, addle-headed 
 fort of a giant, either; or his brains could not have 
 been converted to fuch a ufe. 
 
 Sen. Then there be three Fatal Sifters. 
 
 Trifl. Aye— three Witches, as one might fay, mafter 
 Senefchal! the eldeft of which, by the way, is no 
 Witch, i' my way of thinking; for fhe only forctcljs 
 what is paft : carrying her eyes behind her, as it were. 
 
Sc. 3. OF THE LAKE. 6 J 
 
 Strait forward fhe cannot fee fo far as her nofe. And, 
 as for the fecond, (by your account of her) fhe has no 
 more forefight than a hare : and yet , fhe feems more in- 
 debted to her eyes than her underftanding for her repu- 
 tation in the world. Her glances go, bolt (hot, in all di- 
 rections, thro all impediments of fpace and matter: like 
 a lance thro a battered buckler. She can fee all the ble- 
 mi flics that a maid hides with her mantle, or a batchelor 
 uoder his gabardine, as plain as a carbuncle on a nofe 
 of four inches ; but as for how long the batchelor fhall re- 
 main a batchelor, or the maid a maid, mafter Senefchal !— 
 
 Sen. Why for that, mafter Newcomer, fhe refers you 
 to her younger fitter. And this, by the way, brings me, 
 pat, to three other Sifters, of a very different defcription, 
 (not but they, alfo, have fomething to do with our def- 
 tinies, mafter Newcomer !) I mean the three fmirking 
 damfels, that wait on The Propitious Goddefs, to whom 
 the aforefaid maids and batchelors offer up their vows, 
 when they wifh to be maids and batchelors no longer. 
 
 And then there be three Giants of Froft ; three War- 
 hounds, that guard the Gates of Hela ; and three Valky- 
 ries, that wait on the banquet of Woden, in Valhalla. 
 
 Sewer. Very true, mafter Senefchal : but what has 
 all this to do with the reafons for our banquet ? 
 
 Sen. Why much, mafter Sewer : — much. 
 
 Trijl. Aye, very much, mafter Sewer : for a Ban- 
 quet is a Banquet, whether in Valhalla or Gwrtheyrnion : 
 Is it not? mafter Senefchal! There 's affinity, for you, 
 imprimus. Then, in the fecond place — for we can find 
 three affinities, or fimilitudes, in this cafe, alfo — Can we 
 
68 THE FAIRY 4ct3. 
 
 not? mafter Senefchal ! — In the fecond place, a full fto- 
 mach is better than an empty one, in Gwrtheyrnion as well 
 as in Valhalla — Is it not, mafter Senefchal 9 There 's af- 
 finity for you, again, or the devil 's in it. And then, in 
 the third place, (which brings us to our point ;,) there are 
 three reafons for the banquet, in one place, as well as the 
 other — videlicit — there be victuals to eat — there be people 
 to eat them — and there is a place in which they may be 
 eaten. Which, alio, may in three diverfe ways be 
 Hated — to wit, Imprimus, The paffivity, or the vi&uals 
 eatable — the locality, or the place of eating — and the 
 agency, or the perfons to eat. Secundo, The prompti- 
 tude, or defire of eating — the aptitude, or convenience 
 of a place to eat in — and the plentitude, or abundance 
 of things eatable. Tertio, Yearning of the bowels, or 
 the hungering after— temptation to the eye, or the pre- 
 fence of the things whereafter we hunger- — and miniftra- 
 tion copulative; or the tables and benches, in the great 
 hall; whereby the parties are enabled to approximate, the 
 come-at-ability of the defired is facilitated, and the defirers 
 are fundamentally accommodated. 
 
 Sen, Right! right! mafter Newcomer! Truly, for 
 all thou bee ft a Welchman, and I a Saxon, I defire thy 
 further acquaintance ; for thou feemeft learned in thefe 
 matters, and of an excellent wit. 
 
 Sew. Why now, by your leave, mafter Senefchal, all 
 thefe be good reafons for banqueting at all times — but 
 they be no reafons for banqueting before battle. 
 
 Sen. Short — fhort, mafter Sewer. If they be good 
 reafons for banqueting at all times, then be they good. 
 
Sc 3. OF THE LAKE. 69 
 
 reafons for banqueting before, as well as after. 
 
 Sew. Aye ; but the fpecific, mafter Senefchal ! the 
 fpecific. 
 
 Trift. Why the fpecifics be three, alfo, mafter Sewer. 
 Imprimus — there is iifh to be eaten; and they are beft 
 to be eaten frefh — Secundo, fighting is hard work; and 
 good eating and drinking minifter to ftrength — Tertio, it 
 is thought beft to eat fjrft, left a part of the guefts fhould 
 get their bellies fo full of fighting , as to have no appetite 
 left for any thing elfe. 
 
 Sen. And, if thefe tripple reafons fatisfy not the tender 
 confcience, there is yet behind, a reafon omnipotent, 
 which is one and indivifible ; namely, that The Fates 
 would have it fo. 
 
 Triji. The Fates ! How fo P mafter Senefchal. 
 
 Sen. Why, to tell you a fecret — our miftrefs has been 
 making a journey into hell. 
 
 Trift. (afide.) Aye, aye, to befpeak apartments I fup- 
 pofe. — Hum ! 
 
 Sen. And, as fhe reports it, The Fatal Sifters or- 
 dered this banquet. 
 
 Trift. Did they fo ? Faith I fhall have a better opi- 
 nion of them, for the future, than I ufed to have. 
 
 Sew. Aye, and fo fhall I. Od zookers ! I cared not 
 if our Miftrefs went to hell every day, at this rate. 
 
 Sen. It is neceifary, itfeems, that the reconciliation be- 
 tween her and the King fhould be thus celebrated ; and 
 that, in token of their re-union, fhe fhould prefent him 
 with a Cup of her own mixing ; as [he did at their firft 
 gieetjng; and then all is to go well. 
 
7° THE FAIRY Ad 3. 
 
 Sew. Good! matter Senefchal. And yet our priefts 
 will have it that it is not orthodox : becaufe, in Valhalla, 
 Woden and his Monoheroes always fight firft, and ban- 
 quet afterwards. 
 
 Trijl. Aye, aye ! — they want one half of us to get 
 a quietus before the banquet, that there may be a double 
 fhare of the baked and boiled for them. But as for 
 thofe Monoheroes, I have a fong about them : and, if the 
 harpers and trumpeters will bear me out with an accom- 
 paniment, I care not if I fing it to you. 
 
 O ! your joys of Valhalla to me they are all mere 
 
 Greek, Sirs, 
 Where you fight till you are kill'd — - 
 
 [KuTd ? — well : and what of that ? If it were but once, 
 and away, one would not mind it — (Sec* Sec. ad 
 libitum.) But there — why 
 
 There you're kill'd and kill'd again, every day of the 
 
 Week, Sirs! 
 And after that, you get fo drunk that you fcarcely can 
 
 fpeak, Sirs, 
 
 And the fe are the joys of, Valhalla ! 
 
 There ten-hundred-times ten-thoufand, Sirs, as I am 
 
 a finner, 
 Hack, and hew, and thru ft, for fun — 
 [O very pretty fun, to be fure — Here a leg, and 
 there an arm > and there a little fcratch ; juft thro 
 the fcull to the chin; and there ahead off, whifp ! 
 — (&c. Sec.) for thus 
 
Sc.3. OF THE LAKE. 71 
 
 They hack, and hew, and thru ft, for Tun ; and both 
 
 the lofer and the winner 
 Are cut up juft like pork, ere they fet them down 
 
 to dinner. 
 
 Thefe, thefe are the joys, of Valhalla ! 
 
 Then for knives they ufe their fwords, and for forks 
 
 they ufe their lances, 
 And their fhields are turned to platters — 
 
 [Aye, leave them alone for good fpacious trenchers. 
 Their hacking and hewing, and cutting and thruft- 
 ing, get them a good appetite, I'll warrant — A 
 chine of beef, a goofe, and a turkey, are nothing 
 under a Monohero's doublet — and fo 
 
 Their fhields are turn'd to platters; and a thoufand 
 
 fuch like fancies, 
 And a Death's head, for a goblet, their drink very much 
 
 enhances. 
 
 Thefe, thefe are the joys of Valhalla ! 
 
 Now your eating I have fome, and your drinking 
 
 much delight in; 
 And I've no great objection to your tilting and 
 
 your fighting — - — 
 
 [No, it fhall be feen, by-and-by, that, fword and 
 target, cut and thruft, hack and hew, here a 
 head, and there a limb, (Sec, Sec.) little Triftram 
 will play his part with the bed of you : 
 
 For I've no great objection to your tilting and your 
 
 fkihtine : 
 
7 2 THE FAIRY Act 3. 
 
 But as to getting drunk after being kill'd,- -~ 
 
 Why, that I think, they're not right in. 
 Altho 'tis the joy of Valhalla ! 
 
 Then their Modus Bibendi, to me, it is mightily 
 
 droll. Sirs, 
 And the fcull of a foe , is a very ft range fort of a 
 
 waffail-bowl, Sirs — - 
 
 [O, lud ! I'm all in the horrors to think of it. 
 Who the devil could fet himfelf foberly to work 
 to get drunk, with a death's-head in his hand ? Be- 
 fides how the devil do they manage it? 
 
 For the fcull of a foe is fuch a very ftrange fort of a 
 
 bowl, Sirs, 
 That I am very fure I ffiould fpill out at either 
 
 eye-hole, Sirs, 
 
 Ere it got to my mouth in Valhalla ! 
 
 Then give me ftill a banquet of your mere mortal 
 cooking — 
 
 [Nay, no cooking at all — Radifhes and raw turnips; 
 an apple, and an onion — or a good Welch leek 
 (Sec. &c.) in a thatched cottage, rather than chines 
 and turkies, in your Hall of Shields — 
 
 Yes, give me ftill a dinner of fuch plain vulgar cooking; 
 And ere ale in a fcull, I'll drink Adam's ale the brook in : 
 And, if there's any other heaven I can find a fly nook in, 
 I'll be damn'd if 111 go to Valhalla ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
Sc.4. OF THE LAKE. 73 
 
 SCENE IV. A confufed and tumultuous noife within. 
 
 Shrieks, and a cry of help. — A deep groan is heard. 
 
 Enter fever al guests and servants, flying, to and 
 
 fro, acrofs the flage, in terror and aflonifhment . 
 
 Dirgeful mufic, from the Harps, within. 
 
 Enter Rowenna, in great agitation, Edelthred. 
 Acga, &c. following. 
 
 Rozu. Tis done ! — Tis done ! — The charm is bound : 
 Vortigern his fleep profound 
 
 Has quaft. (A groan within.) 
 He dies ! (a groan.) He dies! (a groan.) He dies! 
 For this below (with half-thaw 'd eyes) 
 
 Icy Hela, fhouting, laught. (Groan again.) 
 He dies ! he dies ! 
 To the Nine-fold Realm he hies — 
 Mifty region !-— cold, and dark ! 
 
 Hark ! ■ 
 
 Grymer leads the tripple growl. 
 Now they open. Now they howl. (Barking below.) 
 Hark ! (Barking) Hark ! (Barking) Hark ! 
 Loud the ravening hell-dogs bark. 
 Fenrir fhakes his chains below : 
 They yell !- — the Giant Sons of Woe! — 
 And wide the creeking portals throw. 
 
 Hark ! > 
 
 Clank of chains, and growl, and bark 
 
 Hideous difcord ! (Clank of chains) Hark ! (A deep 
 
 growl) Hark ! (barking) Hark ! 
 
 Ed. Ag. &c. Hideous difcord ! Hark! hark! hark! 
 
74 THE. FAIRY Am%* 
 
 Accompaniments of barking, howling, &c. Then, a 
 folemn paufe ; and afudden tranfition to foft and me- 
 lancholy mujic ; principally of Harps and Flutes. 
 
 The body of Vortigern 25 carried acrofs the ftage, 
 accompanied by Courtiers, Domestics, Sol- 
 diers, Be. &c. while the Bard5 fmg the follow ~ 
 ing dirge. 
 
 Mourn, Britons, mourn the mighty fall'n : 
 The fceptred hand is cold. 
 
 The imperial brow in duft lies low, 
 By fudden Fate controll'd. 
 
 Mourn, Britons, mourn the mighty fall'n : 
 The fceptred hand is cold ! 
 
 [Exeunt with the Body. 
 
 Rowenna (after a paufe.) 
 Why mould this moody dirge, thefe folemn founds 
 Of grief full mockery, and this apifh train, 
 That mourn but by contagion from the harps 
 Of hireling chorifters, infect my eyes, 
 Or chill my veins with horror ? — Up ! to arms, 
 Ye firm Refolves ! and fortify my foul 
 Againft invading Confidence. True, he deeps — 
 Sleeps with the dead ! — -my fome-time plighted lord — 
 By me, he deeps his death. But Fate's, not mine, 
 Is all the guilt — if guilt. The Fates decreed, 
 
 And I but did their biddings. — But a wife?—- 
 
 A wife! — Away : I never was the wife 
 Of fuch a thing as Vortigern. My foul 
 (That fcorns affiance with the low and vile) 
 
Sc 4. OF THE LAKE, 75 
 
 Wedded not him, but Empire ; and to that 
 
 I (till am true and loyal : making way, 
 
 By this predeftin'd aft, for happier rule, 
 
 And a more worthy matter. Arthur's hand 
 
 Shall heal thy griefs, and mine— Heav'n-favour'd Ifle ! 
 
 And congregated Britain blefs the deed. 
 
 Join, then, the chaunt to Frea. Frea now, 
 Propitious Goddefs ! may accept the vow ; 
 To her, and Gna, fwell foft the melting {trains— 
 fov theirs what yet of deftiny remains. 
 
 Queen of Pleafures ! Queen of Smiles ! 
 Goddefs of refiftlefs wiles, 
 
 And Love's extatic glow ! 
 Thou, who, erft, the golden tear 
 Shed'ft o'er Balder's early bier, 
 
 And felt'ft the touch of tender woe— 
 Propitious Goddefs ! hear, 
 Ed,Ag.&c, Queen of Love's extatic glow- 
 Propitious Goddefs ! hear. 
 
 Row, O ! fend the herald of thy will, 
 
 The throbbings of the heart to {till, 
 
 And whifper Peace and love ! 
 The imperfect worlf of Fate complete, 
 Till figh with figh, refponfive, meet : 
 
 O ! firft of genial powers above ! 
 
 Propitious Goddefs ! hear. 
 Ed.Ag.&c. Firft of genial powers above !— 
 
 Propitious Goddefs ! hear. 
 
7 6 THE FAIRY ,4^3, 
 
 Trumpets, without, and a cry of The foe! The foe! 
 Alwin enters, with great precipitation. 
 
 Alw. Moft noble Queen ! Arthur has gain'd the heights, 
 His trumpet founds defiance at our gates ; 
 And down the fteep, to this our mid-way ftrand, 
 His fhouting legion pours: their banner'd vans 
 Chiding, with fluttering fpeed, the buoyant air ; 
 Like wings of eagles, when they downward rufh 
 To pounce their fhrieking prey. 
 
 Row. Hang out the flag 
 Of friendly parley. This is welcome news. 
 The tyrant's death makes way for gentler warfare — . 
 More mild arbitriment than flings and darts : 
 And this mall firfl be tried. 
 
 Enter a fecond Messenger. 
 
 Mejfenger. Revolt ! revolt ! 
 Treafon is in our walls ; a treacherous band 
 Of lawlefs Britons, headed by the twain, 
 Who, with their prorTer'd fervice, late arriv'd, 
 Have borne the Princefs to the lonely tower, 
 By fudden inroad feiz'd, and now maintained 
 In Arthur's hoftile name. 
 
 Roxv. (eagerly.) The lonely tower P 
 Mef. The fame that, circled by the deep-delv'd moat. 
 Stands in filiated ; lefs by taclic art, 
 Than by the nevcr-ceafing fpring, that laves 
 Its circular bale, defended. 
 
 .Row. Fire the bridge ! 
 
Sc. 4. OF THE LAKE. 77 
 
 This news is welcome too. My fetes prevail ! — 
 
 No weapons ufe but fire. — Propitious powers ! 
 
 Ye faithful Fatal Sifters ! Shaft and fling 
 
 Were facrilegious here ; were impotent. 
 
 Fire, fire, I fay. The firft that brings me word 
 
 The turrets flame (be he the meaneft drudge 
 
 That ever pioneerd before a hoft) 
 
 Shall rank, for wealth and power, with Woden's line. 
 
 Exeunt Alw. and Mes. 
 
 Yes ! " My rival to confound, 
 
 " Fire and water fhall furround— 
 
 " Ruthlefs flames, and waves profound ! n 
 
 Sweet Hope my heart beguiles : 
 My bofom fwells — -my pulfe beats high; 
 And fofter heaves the fluttering figh. 
 
 Propitious Frea fmiles ! Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE V. The outfide of the Cafile, fituated half way 
 up the Beacons ; at that part now occupud by the Lake 
 or Pool. The double peak of the Mountain forms the 
 back ground. The Keep, or round Tower, appears 
 detached from the reft of the fortification; and fur- 
 rounded by a wide moat. The drawbridge, between it 
 and the Cafile is drawn up; and Tristram and 
 Gu en ever are feen upon the Walls. The other 
 parts of the Cafile are, alfo, defended by a modt ; the 
 drawbridge being up. A perpetual fihower of fire- 
 brands is dif charged, from the Cafile, upon the Keep. 
 
7& THE FAIRY Acts. 
 
 Tristram (hurling back the brands, as they are thrown.) 
 Fire for your fire, ye Salamanders ! if that's your game. 
 But here comes one will fire you prettily ; I'll warrant. 
 
 Trumpet-Chorus of Bards and Knights, as Arthur, 
 and, his Train are entering. 
 
 Trumpets founding, falchions flaming ! 
 
 Rufh, ye chiefs to glorious fight : 
 Fame, the while, your worth proclaiming * 
 
 ArtL Detraction !— See upon the keep (furpris'd 
 By Triftram's politic valour, to fecure, 
 During our fierce affault, from chance of war, 
 Or worfe internal treafon, the fair prize 
 Of all our fleeplefs perils) what fierce Ihower 
 Of hellifli enginry, inceffant, hails, 
 Threat'ning a fate of horrors. Sound the trump — - 
 The trump of parley. — Gueneyer ! 
 
 Guenever. Oh ! heav'n ! 
 Arthur ! my lord ! my hero !— -in thy fight 
 O ! cruel deftiny ! 
 
 Arth. The trumpet found. [A parley founded^ 
 If maid, or child, or matron they would fave 
 From retributive vengeance, let them ceafe 
 This war of fire ; 
 
 (Rowenna, attended by Alwin, and fever al Saxon 
 and British Nobles, &c. appears on the walls.) 
 
 or, by the Eternal Truth, 
 Whom my foul worlhips ! foon Gwrtheyrnion s walls* 
 
Sc. 5. OF THE LAKE. 79 
 
 Proftrate on earth, mall form one common tomb 
 For every Saxon thing that breathes within ; 
 And thefe my gallant knights, horribly fmear'd 
 With your idolatrous blood, fhall, o'er the heap 
 Of mingled wreck and carnage, wave their fwordsj 
 And fliout " Extermination!" 
 
 Row. Angry prince ! 
 Why to our flag of conference anfwer you 
 With fuch ungentle outrage ? Were we bent 
 Onhoftile fury, we have means within 
 To baffle this gay phalanx ; tho renown'd, 
 (As frankly we admit) for warlike deeds. 
 Thro all the peopled earth. But, in our hearts, 
 The touch humane of cordial fympathy 
 Is now more vital than revengeful wrath 
 And national averfions ; which too long 
 Have thin'd our rival tribes. Therefore we arm 
 Our tongues with gentle courtefies, not hands 
 With weapons of deftruclion ; and invite 
 To equal brotherhood your warrior Knights— 
 Yourfelf, to equal empire. 
 
 Arth. Empire, fhar'd 
 With Vortigern and thee ? 
 
 Row. That Vortigern 
 No more prefents a barrier to the hopes 
 Of Anglia and of Britain : cold he lies 
 Beneath the frefh-laid turf; and, with his deep, 
 The bleeding realm is pacified. 
 
 Arth, How?— How?— 
 
80 THE FAIRY Act. 3. 
 
 Did I then prophecy ? Mod murderous fiend ! 
 Thy hufband, and thy fovereign ! 
 
 Row. Why on me 
 (Injurious !) charge the lure decrees of Fate ? 
 
 Arth. Fate, that would deal in murders and in crimes, 
 Shall never want (while thou infeft'ft the earth) 
 A ready inftrument. No more. Break off 
 The impious parle. The martial chorus raife ; 
 And let our battering enginry upheap, 
 Of thefe polluted ftones, a monument 
 To Britain's murder'd King : foul tho he were, 
 Of thefe, not meriting fo foul an end. 
 
 Cho. Trumpets founding, falchions flaming, 
 
 Rufh, ye Chiefs, to glorious fight 
 
 A Briton (from the Walls.) 
 
 A while forbear !-~- For what do we contend? 
 For what deform the enamell'd turf of peace 
 With our unnatural (laughters ? Arthur^ hear — 
 Rowenna, and the undifputed crown 
 Of Britain and the auxilliar tribes of Elb, 
 Are thine, without a crime. 
 
 Arth. Without a crime, 
 Vile Briton ! — This from thee, whofe King, even now 
 (Your own elected King !) in death lies low 
 By her abhor'd contrivance ! — Without crime? 
 Is it no crime to league with Murder, then — 
 Domeftic Murder, Witchcraft, and the rage 
 Of foul adultrous Luft, and all the fwann 
 Of moil abhor'd pollutions, that combine 
 
Sc. 5. OF THE LAKE. 8l 
 
 In her detefted nature, and infeft 
 The very air fhe breathes in? — making all 
 That come within thy atmofphere of crimes, 
 As hateful as thyfelf — thou, World of Sins ! 
 Guilt's fair, yet foul epitome ! 
 
 Row. Ye Gods 
 Of Afgard and of Niflheim ! is it thus 
 Ye cheat my hopes ? 
 
 Yet, fair ! He owns me fair ! 
 That's fomething. And, perchance, when yonder witch 
 No more with philtering charms can drug the fenfe, 
 I may feem fair alone ; and, rivalry 
 No more obtruding, the impaffion'd touch 
 Of Nature's ftrong propenfion may fubdue 
 This pride of ethic reafon. The loos'd eye 
 Of youthful appetite, that, 'mong the forms 
 Of foft obtrufive beauty, fomewhere muft 
 Dwell with more ardent gaze, from mine, perchance* 
 May catch contagious fire ; and Arthur yet 
 Light up tbe flame in which my woes expire. (AJideJ 
 
 Why ceafe the brands, ye tardy miniflers 
 Of our imperial mandate ? Who again, 
 (Command who will) till yonder turrets flame. 
 Does in the fiery warfare but relax, 
 The pains of Treafon wait him. 
 
 (The ajfault on the Keep is renewed.) 
 
 Arthur (who, during the foregoing Joliloqxiy , had 
 conver fed with Gu en ever, acrofs the moat, in 
 dumb /how J Quick — repeal 
 
 That hideous mandate; or, by utmoft hell, 
 
 L 
 
82 THE FAIRY Act 3. 
 
 Whate'er of torment human wit can frame — 
 Whate'er of ignominy (torturous more 
 To thy imperious fpirit) fhall avenge 
 The damned deed. 
 
 What ? ha ! No refpite ? Fiends ! 
 Sound — found the trumpet. Peal the affailing hymn, 
 Ye bards, and rufh to combat. (The ajfault begins). 
 
 Chorus. Trumpets founding, falchions flaming, 
 Rufh, ye chiefs ! to glorious fight : 
 Fame, the while, your worth proclaiming, 
 Thro the nations wings her flight. 
 Rufh to conquefl ! rufh to glory ! 
 Like the brave of ancient flory. 
 Trumpets founding, falchions flaming, 
 Rufh to conquer! — rufh to glory! 
 
 The Bards join in the conflict. The drawbridge of the 
 Caftle falls ; and that of the Keep, together with the 
 Keep itfelf, is fired, at the fame time. Shouts and 
 flourifli, as of triumph, from both parties. 
 
 Arth. The drawbridge falls. Affail ! affail the gates. 
 Diftraclion ! — Guenever ! 
 
 Guenever. Oh, Arthur ! Arthur ! 
 They reach — they fcorch me. O, the flames ! the flames ! 
 
 Arth. My arm avails not. Conquefl is in vain! 
 Diftraclion '. vengeance! — O, fome vafl revenge I 
 Some mighty ruin! — that the world might crack, 
 And Univerfal Nature, with her wreck, 
 Hood yon devouring flames ! 
 
So. 5. OF THE LAKE. % 
 
 Row. The Phoenix burns ! 
 And, from the odorous ruin, mine the love, 
 With renovated wing, fhall foar aloft, 
 Gorgeous in natal triumph. — ■ — *Tis complete. (AJide.) 
 
 Schulda, thanks ! The charm is bound. 
 Now, my rival to confound, 
 Fire and water both furround. 
 
 Arthur's arm no help fhall lend, . 
 No mortal power the Maid befriend, 
 Nor aid from pitying heaven defcend. 
 
 Schulda thanks ! My doubts retire. 
 Arthur loon fhall light the fire 
 In which my forrows all expire. 
 
 Arth. A brand ! A brand ! Hell-hag-— thy prophecy 
 (Whatever juggling demon gave it fhape) 
 Soon I fulfil. Triftram, a brand ! a brand ! 
 
 Tristram throws feveral brands to Arthur and 
 the Knights: Rowenna ^r/s, with a terrific 
 Jhrieky as they feize 9 and hrandijh them on high. 
 
 Row. Furies of Hela's fhades ! Is this the flame ? 
 
 Arth. Oh ! Guenever ! thus at thy funeral pyre, 
 I offer up thy hecatombs. Come on, 
 If not for prefervation, we are arm'd 
 At leaft for vengeance. Hell-h ig ! thus I light 
 The fated flame in which thy woes expiree 
 
84 THE FAIRY Act 5. 
 
 He fires the Gates ; and prefently the whole cajlle ap- 
 peal's to be inflames, in themidjl of which Rowenna 
 and her partizans Jink. In the mean time, the flames 
 make a more feeble progrejs in the Keep; where 
 Guenever and Tristram fland. 
 
 Air and Chorus of unfeen Spirits, 
 She fhrieks! — She dies! — Our miftrefs dies ! 
 
 Spirits — Spirits ! — ^hafte away: 
 Scatter thro the lurid flues. 
 
 Asi's Gods in pow'r decay. 
 Demon Gods confefs, with fear. 
 Their fated twilight hovering near. 
 
 Ar. Vengeance ! thy dues are paid. But Love ! O, Love ! 
 
 Haft thou no intereft at The Mercy Seat ? 
 
 Nor fufFering Innocence ? My Guenever ! 
 
 (She dijappears and Tristram follows.) 
 Oh ! torment ! — torment ! Thus, before mine eyes ! — ( 
 Not even the wretched privilege referv'd 
 To perifh with her — in one dear embrace 
 Forget the fearching fury of the flames, 
 And mix our wedded afhes ! Might one not, 
 Of defperate refolution, make a bridge 
 Enough fubftantial for a lover's weight, 
 Buoy'd by fuch dire extremity ? At lean, 
 We'll try the hazard. Ho ! for Guenever ! 
 
 [Reruns towards the moat, which he is about to leap; 
 zuhen fuddcnly the whole pile of building, Cajlle and 
 Keep together, and all the ground they occupied, fink 
 
Sc. 5. OF THE LAKE. 85 
 
 down. The jpact becomes filled by a pool of Water. 
 
 In the place where the round tower food, The Lady 
 
 of the Lake appears in her chariot, with Guen- 
 
 ever feated by her fide, and Tristram behind. 
 The Chariot, &c approaches the fhore c Scout comes 
 fwimming after. Arthur and Guenever rufh into 
 
 each other s arms. 
 
 Arth. All -gracious powers ! 
 
 Guen. My hero ! 
 
 Arth. O ! My Love ! 
 
 Trijl. (fpringing upon land) Huzza ! Huzza ! Didn't 
 I tell you little Triftram would fight his way thro it. 
 If there was no help from Heaven above, or the Earth 
 beneath, there was fome in the Waters that are under 
 the earth, my blinking prophetefs ! 
 
 Why, how now, Scout ? — What, my amphibious ! my 
 water-fpaniel ! You've had enough of the draught of tem- 
 perance, I hope. This comes of your fears and pre^ 
 cautions. If you had drank valiant Cwrw, as I do, and 
 ftood, to the laft, at the pod of danger— why you had 
 arrived on Terra Firma, with dry breeches, my boy. 
 
 Arth. And is it realis'd ?-r— And art thou fafe ? — 
 Safe and unhurt, from thofe devouring flames 
 That threaten'd thy chafte beauties ? 
 
 Guen. Free! Unhurt! — 
 
 Save in thy frantic terrors! — There I bleed- 
 
 Here — in this ftorm-rent bofom. [Laying her hand upon 
 
 his heart.) Arth. 'Tis at reft : 
 If bleffednefs be reft. — r— -O, facred power 
 Of flame-defying Chaftity !— And thou ! (To the Fairy. 
 
86 THE FAIRY Ad 5. 
 
 Lady, See, Arthur, fee! to crown your matchlefs worth, 
 Nature relents, and miracles have birth, 
 The tribute fpring that wont its courfe to take, 
 Thro fecret veins, to feed my broader Lake, 
 A lake itfelf now fpreads at my command, 
 And long, an emblem of your Fame, fhall ftand, 
 An alpine wonder in the Cambrian land. 
 Meantime accept, from two-fold dangers freed, 
 This beauteous maid, your Valour's nobleft meed. 
 
 Beauty, Truth, and Innocence, 
 Sweetly blending all their charms, 
 
 Valour's guerdon, I difpenfe : 
 Take them, Hero, to thy arms. 
 
 Virtue with fuch Graces blending, 
 
 'Twas a prize well worth contending : 
 Worth thy perils, toils, alarms : 
 Take her, hero, to thy arms : — 
 
 Feaft of Reafon ! feaft of Senfe ! 
 
 Beauty, Truth, and Innocence. 
 
 Chorus. Valour true to Virtue's fide, 
 
 Worth, by fharp affliclion tried, 
 
 Merit well the blooming bride 
 On whom propitious Fates difpenfe 
 Beauty, Truth, and Innocence. 
 
 Arth. O! facred Guardian ! — But all words are weak: 
 I can but figh my raptures ; gaze my thanks, 
 And, in the precious gift, the giver prize. 
 
OF THE LAKE. $7 
 
 Trumpet's clangors, Arms that rattle, 
 Dreadful thro the bleeding battle, 
 Now, a while, 
 For kindling Beauty's rofeate fmile — 
 Soothing foftnefs ! we forego. 
 Hade Thee, Love ! the wreath beftow. 
 Witching fmile 
 And fportive wile 
 That fenfe of wearied worth beguile ; 
 
 And Stealth, that love's coy neclar fips; 
 And tilt and toy of parrying lips ; 
 Eyes that fwim ; and hearts that glow ; 
 And parly with the yielding foe ; — 
 Thefe, for laurels, Love ! beftow ; 
 And we again will fight thy battle. 
 
 Bard. Hafte thee, Boy ! But wing thy arrows 
 
 With the dove's plume ; not the fparrow's : 
 
 Turtle, that, in thickeft grove, 
 
 Guards the neft of abfent love. 
 
 And ftill, as Valour's meed, difpenfe 
 
 Beauty, Truth, and Innocence. 
 So, when ftorms of danger rattle, 
 We again will fight thy battle. 
 
 Chorus. Beauty, Truth, and Innocence 
 Still, as Valour's meed difpenfe; 
 And, when ftorms of danger rattle, 
 Valour's Tons (hall fight thy battle. 
 
88 THE FAIRY Act 3, 
 
 Lady. But fee below, bow from the mifty vale 
 The day retires, and twilight fhades prevail. 
 Soon fhall thofe fhadows up the mountain fpread, 
 And Night involve Farinioch's peaky head. 
 One thing remains : to waft my chofen fon 
 To Caer Leon : then my talk is done. 
 There Britain's chiefs afTembled, even now, 
 Prepare the regal fillet for thy brow. 
 Ye fightlefs agents of the charmed air ! 
 Suftain our weight. Behold : for we are there. 
 
 SCENE VL She waves her filver Trident, and the 
 fcene changes to Caer- Leon, in all its fabled grandeur ; 
 fplendidly illuminated, and decorated with martial 
 trophies, banners, wreaths, and braids of flowers, 
 aud other fumptuous preparations for the coronation of 
 Arthur. Nobles, Bards, Ladies, Youths, 
 and Maidens with bafkets of Flowers, Maskers, 
 Revellers, &c. 
 
 La. Here youths and maids your gathered fragrance fling; 
 Behold your promis 1 d Chief — your patriot King. 
 
 The Youths and Maidens flrew their flowers ; and the 
 Chiefs, &c prefent the regal fillet to Arthur, who 
 binds it on the brow of Guenever. 
 
 Tal. Hail Britain's pride ! immortal Arthur hail ! 
 Thy honour, name, and praife fhall never fail! 
 
 Cho. Hail Britain's pride ! immortal Arthur hail ! 
 Thy honour, name, and praife fhall never fail ! 
 
Sc 6. OF THE LAKE. 89 
 
 Lady. Thus cover 'd with glory, thus bleft in thy love, 
 To empire promoted, thy virtue to prove, 
 Forget not that worth, in the funfhine of joy, 
 That griefs could not quench, or afflictions annoy. 
 Let your valour protect, but not ravage the ftate ; 
 And cherifti the Low, while you rule o'er the great; 
 So the bard, yet unborn, fhall your triumphs proclaim, 
 And the nations around thus re-echo your Fame — 
 " Hail Britain's pride ! immortal Arthur, hail ! 
 66 Your honour, name, and praife fhall never fail." 
 Chorus. Hail Britain's pride ! &c. — 
 
 Talies. Wake the Harp to drains of pleafure ! 
 Let the fportive train advance : 
 Ring of fhields, and pyrrhic meafure ! 
 Warriors, lead the nuptial dance. 
 
 A Dance of Warriors. 
 
 War and Toil have done their duty : 
 
 Let your weary'd worth repofe. 
 Love fucceeds ; and fmiling Beauty, 
 
 With our laurel twines the rofe. 
 
 A Dance of Virgins who crown Arthur and his 
 Knights with chaplets. 
 
 Chorus. Love and Glory, thus uniting, 
 
 All their mingled boons confer. 
 Arthur, lo ! thy worth requiting, 
 Empire, Fame, and Guenever. 
 
 M 
 
90 THE FAIRY Act 6' 
 
 Lady. Now, my tafk perform'd, I fly 
 To my fecret bowers, that lie 
 Where the Day-Star never came, 
 
 Peering Fleering, 
 
 With his fearching eye of flame. 
 There, in virgin ftate, I rove 
 Thro' fparry dome, and coral grove, 
 Self-illum'd with many a Gem 
 Might grace a monarch's diadem. 
 
 Refponfe below^ as the Chariot rifes. 
 Lady ! Lady ! hade to rove 
 Thro' fparry dome and coral grove. 
 See your Swans their traces make, 
 Regent of the filver lake ! 
 
 Lady. There, where bubbling fonts arife 
 And the blue eye'd Naides 
 Thro the chinks, in many a rill, 
 
 Tinkling Sprinkling, 
 
 Their falubrious boons diftill — 
 There I join the virgin throng, 
 Warbling oft the choral fong 
 That brooks and echoing falls repeat. 
 To Fancy's ear, in numbers fweet. 
 Refponfe of Nymphs below. 
 
 Lady ! Lady ! hafte along : 
 
 Join the Choir, and join the fong; 
 
 Gurgling — tinkling, 
 
 Murmuring — fprinkling, 
 Sadlv fweet, the rocks among. 
 
OF THE LAKE. 91 
 
 as Jhe feats herfelf in the Chariot. 
 Sifters, I the call obey, 
 Seek the Grot, and join the lay ; 
 Murmuring — tinkling, 
 Bubbling — fprinkling, 
 Where the chryftal fountains, 
 From their mountains, 
 Gufhing — Rufhing, 
 To their vallies hafte away. 
 
 Taliessin. 
 
 May thofe fountains, Lady kind ! 
 
 Still their wonted channels find, 
 
 Nor ever water-nymph neglect 
 
 The filent tribute of refpecl, 
 
 But, thro many a fecret vein, 
 
 Still the purer eflence ftrain, 
 
 And thy myftic urn fupply; 
 
 Never turbid, never dry : — 
 
 Urn fo pure, that Lunvey's tide, 
 
 "jfhro its waters doom'd to glide, 
 
 Silent, with unmbgling wave, 
 
 Haftes the wooddy glen to lave, 
 
 And there, to lift'ning groves, complains 
 
 Of Love o'eraw'd, and flifled pains; 
 
 With virgin beauties aye embrac'd, 
 
 Which yet he muft not hope to tafte. 
 
 May ever on thy brink appear 
 
 The earlieil fragrance of the year, 
 
9* THE FAIRY, &c. Act 3. 
 
 And lingering Autumn in thy face 
 Reflected fee his late ft grace ; 
 While ftill, as circling hours prevail, 
 The matin Lark and Nightingale 
 The fong of lengthen'd uapture wake 
 To hail the Lady of the Lake 
 
 Chorus. 
 Blow the martial trump again, 
 Give to Fame the clofmg {train — 
 Fame, that fhall her wreaths confer 
 On Arthur and on Guenever; 
 And bid her loudeft clarion wake, 
 To hail the Lady of the Lake. 
 
 THE CURTAIN DROPS. 
 
EFFUSIONS OF SOCIAL 
 
 and 
 RELATIVE AFFECTION 
 
The following Poems are, chiefly, arranged in the order in which they 
 were written* Some few of them have appeared before, in the ju- 
 venile productions referred to in the Memoirs. These are here pre- 
 served only as records of past emotions, and of early composition* 
 
 Of the original articles, also, the greater part are not presented as 
 specimens of Poetical Talent. They have fin the heart of the 
 author at least J a higher interest. They are the effusions, not of 
 the Poet, but of the Father — efforts of agonized remembrance to 
 find refuge in those pursuits, which, in all other calamities, have 
 administered consolation', but in this have failed. The reader, there- 
 fore, is not to look for the blandishments of Metaphor, or the or- 
 naments of Fancy. If fiction be essential to Poetry, there is lit- 
 tle here that ought to have found its way into this collection. 
 
€ H <& dB> j^ 
 
 0rc Me ^M of a favourite Schoolfellow, Phillip 
 
 Bonafous, who died of the fmall pox> in 1785. 
 
 (From the Author's first Poems.) 
 
 I GRIEVE to think how quick each bloflbm fades 
 That decorates the thorny road of life — 
 
 How Sorrow's worm the tender bud invades, 
 How oft 'tis blighted by Misfortune's ftrife. 
 
 I grieve to think how Difappointment's breath 
 Shrinks the young foliage of our budding hopes! 
 
 How oft the fudden hand of cruel Death 
 
 Each fweeteft branch of young enjoyment lops. 
 
 I had a friend O, Lucio, ever dear ! 
 
 Still (hall thy memory in my bofom live ; 
 Thy virtues bloom in recollection here, 
 
 Dwell on my tongue, and in my theme furvive. 
 
 I had a friend tho Heav'n had fnatch'd away 
 
 Each promis'd comfort of my tender age ; 
 
 In him it feem'd my loffes to repay 
 
 My fweet companion on life's toilfome ftage ! 
 
 How fraught with tender feelings was his mind ! 
 
 O'erflowing font of fenfibility ! 
 To friends how true ! to relatives how kind ! 
 
 In generous zeal, how boundlefs and how free ■ 
 
g6 ELEGIES, &c. 
 
 But ah, Difeafe, with envious hand, affail'd 
 The vital ft em of each remaining joy : 
 
 O'er his fair form the noxious peft prevail'd ; ' 
 Prompt to deform, and powerful to deftroy. 
 
 Who now mail footh my forrow-clouded mind ? 
 
 Who now the fad reflection fhall relieve ? 
 Where fhall my heart confoling friendfhip find ? 
 
 Misfortune's children ftill unpity'd grieve. 
 
 The proud carnation, coftly child of art, 
 Droops not unheeded on the cultur'd plain. 
 
 The florift's hand fhall foon his aid impart, 
 With care to rear it, and with props fuftain. 
 
 But if fome hedge-row flower (of humbler worth) 
 By Erus torn, the wounded head recline, 
 
 The carelefs traveller treads it to the earth — 
 The herd, unpitying, to its fate refign. 
 
 Not fo didft thou, my heart's ele&ed friend ! 
 
 You kindly courted when the world grew coy ; 
 When bland civility was at an end, 
 
 And the cold kinfman turn'd the averted eye. 
 
 For this (hall Memory oft, with gliftening tear, 
 
 Thy form, thy friendfhip, and thy name renew- 
 Still Lucio dwell in recollection here, 
 And all his virtues bloffom in my view. 
 
ELEGIES. &c. 97 
 
 Elegy, written during the Feftival of Chrijlma$ y 
 
 i 7 8 5 . 
 
 (From the same.) 
 
 The time has been (but ah ! farewell thofe days — — * 
 Thofe cheerful days of innocence and mirth !) 
 
 I blefs'd the wained fun's convivial rays 
 
 That gave this day of joyous paftime birth. 
 
 Around the focial hearth, at night, we throng'd, 
 Where humour much, but more good -nature fhin'd; 
 
 While joke and fong the cheerful feaft prolong'd 
 Beyond the ufual hour for reft affign'd. 
 
 Oft would our Sire the youthful train provoke; 
 , Full oft incite to paftimes gay and bland; 
 Full oft himfelf revive the flagging joke. 
 
 And, in the comrade, lofe the fire's command. 
 
 Good, gentle foul \ who every foul could cheer !— 
 Of morals blamelefs, as of manners gay ; 
 
 He fcorn'd the ftoick frown and tone fevere. 
 And rather chofe by love than fear to fway. 
 
 But he is gone; and gone the joys of life — 
 
 Now woes on woes roll thickening o'er my head ; 
 
 While Penury, and keen domeftic Strife, 
 
 And hopelefs Love their mingled venom fried. 
 
 N 
 
9 8 ELEGIES, &c. 
 
 Pale Melancholy's firft-born daughter, Spleen, 
 To my fick fancy paints a thoufand ills : 
 
 Upholds her fhadowy, woe-depi£Wd fcreen, 
 Blafls every hope, and every profpecl chills*. 
 
 Ah why, to all the real woes of life, 
 
 Should fick Imagination add her ftore ? — * 
 
 Ideal blending with fubftantial ftrife, 
 
 To crufh the feeble wretch opprefs'd before ? 
 
 Ye cheerful Hours, unhurt by gnawing Care ! 
 
 Ye focial Days of plenty, joy, and peace { 
 Say will ye e'er the wrongs of Fate repair ? 
 
 Shall e'er the frowns of adverfe Fortune ceafe P 
 
 Elegy, written in 1786, at a time when the fubjcH of 
 Imprifonmtnt for Debt was much difcujfed. 
 
 Farewell thou laft dim blufh of fading day — 
 Ye bufy fcenes — ye buftling Cares, farewell: 
 
 Lo Contemplation watch the parting ray, 
 To lead the Votary to her penfive Cell ! 
 
 Yes, power ferene ! your awful haunts I love, 
 What time, flow-pacing thro' the mifty vale, 
 
 Wrapp'd in Night's fober mantle, fad you rove. 
 And breathe your precepts in the fullen gale, 
 
ELEGIES, &c. 99 
 
 And I have heard you, in the breezy figh 
 
 Of Zephyrs moaning in the Moon's pale beam. 
 
 While fcarce their humid pinnions, as they fly, 
 Shake the dark fpray, or curl the fpangled ftream. 
 
 And I have heard and felt the folemn call, 
 What time, more awful, in the ftormy blaft, 
 
 Amid the ruins of fome ivy'd wall, 
 
 You told of Earth's frail pomps, and follies paft. 
 
 O ! lead me then, fad moralizing pow'r ! 
 
 To where thy Cavern fronts the raging main : 
 There will I think on life's tempeftuous hour, 
 
 And human woe fliall moralize the ftrain. 
 
 Ah me ! how long the gaunt difaftrous train 
 
 That croud with anguifh Man's precarious day ! 
 
 How Sicknefs, Sorrow, Penury, and Pain, 
 And Difappointment throng in dark array i 
 
 How perjur'd Friendfhip darts the treacherous fling — 
 How all the youthful Paffions, gay to view, 
 
 Repentance, fhame, and wild affliction bring— 
 While fcorpion Furies all their paths purfue 1 
 
 W T here Pleafure courts us with her fmiling train, 
 There Pain and Death prepare the hidden dart- 
 
 Where Wealth allures with hopes of promis'd gain. 
 There Ruin waits to rend the waited heart. 
 
100 ELEGIES, &c. 
 
 How many from the golden dreams of life. 
 Has my fad foul feen wak'd to iron woe ! 
 
 How many funk in fhame and hopelefs ftrife, 
 Who grafp'd at fame with hope ? s afpiring glow. 
 
 From the high fummit of well-founded hopes 
 (If ought were founded in this fragile world) 
 
 While each gay profpecl; round alluring opes, 
 
 To Want's abyfs what crouds are headlong hurl'd | 
 
 To that abyfs as, with imploring hands 
 And bleeding hearts, precipitate they fall, 
 
 3Lo profperous Avarice— fiend unfeeling! ftands^ 
 And points the iron door, and grated wall. 
 
 Is this the land where liberal feelings glow ? 
 
 Is this the land where Juftice holds the fcale ? 
 The felon's lot mull pale Difafter know ? 
 
 And, freemen give Misfortune's fons a gaol? — ■ 
 
 A gaol ! — oh horror! what a found is there 
 To jar the feeling nerve of Virtue's ear ! 
 
 The dungeon's gloom mud guiltlefs Sorrow fhare. 
 Its rjoxious terrors, and its pangs fevere ? 
 
 From fcenes like thefe, let Contemplation foar, 
 Nor fink defppnding in the cheerlefs gloom ; 
 
 A better world, with better hopes, explore, 
 
 Mount to the fides, and peer beyond the tomb. 
 
ELEGIES, &c. 101 
 
 Sonnet to the Nightingale. 1788. 
 
 Sweet Bird of Sympathy! whofe voice alone 
 
 Sooths the attentive car of darkling Woe, 
 Whofe {trains, refponfive to the Wretch's moan, 
 
 With foftly melancholy influence flow, 
 As thy fweet note thus melts upon my ear, 
 I heave the figh— I fhed the flatting tear. 
 For oh! of Lucio — dear, departed friend! — 
 
 The fond memorial in . that note I find. 
 When Joy forbore her cheerful fmile to lend, 
 
 When Fortune lour'd on my benighted mind, 
 Alone, with Friendfhip's fympathizing ftrain, 
 He footh'd my foul, and lull'd my bofom's pain. 
 Sweet Bird of Sympathy ! for this the tear 
 Still fhall Remembrance fhed on Friendfhip's early bier ! 
 
 Lines prefented by the Author, to his Mother, together 
 with a crutch Jlick. 
 
 (Re-printed from the Imperial Magazine.) 
 
 Dear fource of that life, which your kindnefs and care 
 Not only preferv'd, but perfifts to endear, 
 Who fo oft o'er my infancy fondly would bend, 
 Protection to yield, and afliftance to lend ; 
 Ere yet my young limbs a firm fortitude knew, 
 Or could hope for a prop, but from love, and from you, 
 Whofe folicitude prov'd (how inceffantly tried !) 
 The ftrength of my weaknefs, my help, and my guide ; 
 
102 ELEGIES, ' &c. 
 
 Since Providence will'd that, thro' infancy's cares, 
 The follies of childhood, and youth's early fnares, 
 Your hand fhould conduct me to manhood's eftate. 
 When the full-flowing fpirits can combat with Fate ; 
 And fmce that great Pow'r has now doom'd me to fee 
 Your age want the aid you imparted to me, 
 O ! let me (fince mine it by nature appears) 
 Be the flay of your fleps, and the ftrength of your years. 
 
 Meantime, at my hand, this fmall prefent accept ; 
 Both as emblem (or type) and a pledge of refpeSL 
 What tho no quaint labour a polifh impart, 
 Nor the varnifher's daub, nor the cunning of art ; 
 Yet let not the roughnefs of Nature offend : 
 It will ever be ready its fervice to lend. 
 And the gift and the giver alike may you find, 
 The flay of your fleps, and the crutch of your mind. 
 
 Stanzas 
 
 On a clay candlejlick* given to the Author by an efteemed 
 and valuable friend, (See Memoir ', p. xix.) 
 (From the same.) , 
 
 The fmallefl gift from Friendfhip's partial hand 
 
 To generous minds acquires extriniic worth ; 
 As homeliefl fcenes our fond refpe&s command, 
 
 If, haply, honoured by fome valu'd birth. 
 But thou, neat prefent of wel 1 -moulded clay ! 
 
 From ft ill fuperior motives claim'fl my love; 
 In thee her humble emblem I furvey, 
 
 Whofe worth you fhadow, andwhofe friendfhip prove. 
 
ELEGIES, &c. l0 3 
 
 The gift, where oft the vifual radiance plays* 
 The nightly ftudies of my Mufe befriends; 
 
 The giver, beaming wifdom's mental rays, 
 
 My mind irradiates, and my judgment mends. 
 
 With thee, what time the garifh day is fled, 
 
 And Noife and Folly quit the fombre fcene, 
 When Contemplation's deepeft mantle fpread, 
 
 Bids paflion fleep, and judgment reign ferene — 
 Oft fhall my toil explore the claffic ground 
 
 Where never felfifh Care, with heavy eye, 
 Prefum'd to pace his dull unfeeling round, 
 
 Dead to the generous woe, or liberal joy — 
 The claflic realms of Fancy, ever gay ! 
 
 Where fmile the Graces, and where haunts the Mufe ; 
 Or there where Truth directs the hallow'd way, 
 
 Or heav'n-taught Science the dark maze purfues. 
 
 Nor will I pafs with light unheedful tread 
 
 The realm, where midft the hoary wrecks of time, 
 Eventful Hiftroy hails the mighty dead, 
 
 And graves intent the inftru&ive lore fublime. 
 There too, with folemn Ethics by her fide, 
 
 I'll rove where Sentiment refines the heart; 
 Nor fhun, with frigid and faftidious pride, 
 
 Where fportive Humour wings the glittering dart. 
 Thus the lov'd fcenes where Learning, Genius mine, 
 
 Aided by thee, kind gift, will I explore; 
 And oft the donor hail, in whom combine 
 
 The mingled merits of their varied lore. 
 
104 ELEGIES, &<% 
 
 O ! thou, who blend'ft in thy capacious thought* 
 
 With thefe, what thefe could never teach alone, 
 The ufeful lore from life's great drama caught, 
 
 To fons of Science but too feldom known; 
 Fain would digreffive Friendfhip here difplay 
 
 The liberal feelings of thy letter'd foul, 
 Whofe partial care directs my dubious way, 
 
 Prompts the bright race, and aids me to the goal. 
 To infant Genius who a foftering friend, 
 
 Can watch the dawning of the fainted ray, 
 With kindling zeal its influence extend, 
 
 And chace the clouds of prejudice away. 
 
 O ! ftiould that feeming dawn, you kindly hail, 
 
 Prove no falfe glow-worm's fhort delufive gleam- 
 Thro' fortune's low'ring mifts at length prevail, 
 
 And dart the luftre of no feeble beam ; 
 In Poefy's horizon mould it mine 
 
 (Fond, flattering thought!) in full meridian glow, 
 Then fhall it boaft the foftering care of Cline, 
 
 And, Hawes 's worth (hall unborn Ages know. 
 From mortal view by hard Misfortune hurl'd, 
 
 Deep in oblivion's chaos hid I lay : 
 He found, and plac'd me in the letter'd world, 
 
 There bad my verfe a moral light difplay. 
 
 Yet Mill deep fhadows o'er my genius hung, 
 The clouds of error, and the mifts of doubt; 
 
 Mifguided Tafte her veil obfcuring flung, 
 
 Nor Critic-Friendfhip mark'd the dubious rout. 
 
ELEGIES, &c. 105 
 
 From quick extinction then you kindly rofe 
 
 (A heav'n-fent gale) the infant beam to fave ; 
 Chas'd, from my clouded courfe, thefe envious foes. 
 
 And to my rays recruited vigour gave. 
 Nor fhall my mind, while night fucceeds to day, 
 
 The grateful memory of thy worth refign — 
 Or Mufe forget — while Mufe can pour the lay, 
 
 Her beft, her earlieft benefactor — Cline* 
 
 EXTEMPORE, 
 
 On receiving a Rofe from his Sifter. 
 (From the same.) 
 
 Why, fever'd from its parent thorn, 
 
 A (fumes the rofe a brighter hue 
 Than when, impearl'd by dewy morn* 
 
 Among furrounding fweets it grew ? 
 
 Why fhould it to the feafted fenfe, 
 
 Within a narrow room confin'd, 
 A richer perfume now difpenfe, 
 
 Than when it breath'd the frefh'nirig wind ? 
 
 Fraterna, hear the partial Mufe 
 
 The myftery's pleafing caufe proclaim : 
 
 More fweet its breath, more gay its hues, 
 Since from Affeclion's hand it came. 
 
106 ELEGIES, &c. 
 
 The Invitation. To Stella. July, 1789, 
 (From the same.) 
 
 Say, Stella, wilt thou rove with me 5 
 
 Far from the cheerful native fcene, 
 From fmiling hill and valley flee, 
 
 From harveft fields and pafture green ? 
 From thefe could'ft thou contented range 
 
 The city's buftling cares to prove ? 
 All, all thefe tranquil joys exchange — 
 
 The fole return thy Damon's love ? 
 
 Yet hear me love , ere thou reply, 
 
 A youth that fcorns deception hear ; 
 No wealth is mine, the heart to buy ; 
 
 My cot is poor; my fate fevere : 
 Nor may'ft thou look for pomp and fhew, 
 
 Or hope in Pleafure's train to move. 
 Say, wilt thou, then, thefe joys forego ?— * 
 
 The fole return thy Damon's love! 
 
 Ah, think, what pain 'twill be to view 
 
 The fplendid city's gay parade, 
 The feftive dance, the public fhew, 
 
 The coftly drefs- with pride difplay'd — 
 Thefe, thefe to view; yet ne'er to fhare — 
 
 Ah ! would not this thy patience move ? 
 All, all thefe trials couldft thou bear? — 
 
 The fole reward thy Damon's love. 
 
TO STELLA. 107 
 
 If fo, my Stella, come with me, 
 
 And quit the cheerful native fcene ; 
 From fmiling hill and valley flee, 
 
 From harveft fields, and pafture green. 
 And if thou heav'ft a parting figh, 
 
 My bofom mail refponfive move ; 
 Or fhouldft thou weep, my tearful eye 
 
 Shall well affure thy Damon's love. 
 
 Yet, think my Stella, could'ft thou bear 
 
 To drudge thofe charms in ceafelefs toil 
 While other forms, lefs fweetly fair, 
 
 In idle pomp around Thee fmile. 
 And when Mifchance, or frowning Care 
 
 My hafty ruffled temper move— 
 Say, can'ft thou from reproach forbear. 
 
 And reft aflur'd of Damon's love. 
 
 If fo, my Stella, come with me, 
 
 Far from thefe rural fcexies to ftray : 
 No youth more blefl, more fond fhall be 3 
 
 And none a truer heart difplay. 
 For pride or gold let others wed. 
 
 In fcenes of noify pomp to move ; 
 While we, by pure afTe&ion led, 
 
 Will feek for nought but mutual love. 
 
108 ELEGIES, &c, 
 
 STANZAS written in 1790* 
 (From the same.) 
 
 In rural metaphor full oft my fong 
 
 Hath fung the feverifh pains of flighted love > 
 
 With artful aim to charm the lift'ning throng, 
 More than the fair one's cruel heart to move. 
 
 Though dying fighs might melt through ev'ry {train, 
 Though tearful woe bedropt each murmur'd line, 
 
 Thofe fighs afpir'd a poet's name to gain, 
 
 Thofe tears impearl'd Ambition's darling fhrine. 
 
 ? Tis true, with Delia's fenfe and merit fir'd, 
 
 Strong throbb'd my heart to gain the wondrous maid : 
 
 Yet fond Ambition the proud wifh infpir'd : 
 
 And when the fubftance fled, I woo'd the fhade. 
 
 Nor lefs Melinda's philofophic mind, 
 
 Her fame wide founded wak'd the glow-worm fire \ 
 'Till what/Ambition urg'd, and verfe refin'd, 
 
 Reflexion's beam bad filently expire. 
 
 Thus 3 though full many a radiant fair I fung, 
 My conitant heart hath dill rernain'd the fame; 
 
 What name foe'er might faker on my tongue, 
 
 |,ove was the theme, the wifh'd-for guefdpq — fame ! 
 
TO STELLA. 109 
 
 But now, Ambition's vain purfuit — farewell ! 
 
 Weary, at length I fee the proud deceit ; 
 With plain Simplicity my heart fhall dwell, 
 
 Nor haughty dreams my focial pleafure's cheat. 
 
 And lo ! Simplicity herfelf appears ! 
 
 In femblance fair, a blooming village maid ; 
 Her tender form my drooping fancy cheers, '• 
 
 Her artlefs charms my throbbing heart invade. 
 
 Soft on her youthful lip, a winning fmile 
 (Not fuch as town-bred Affectation wears) 
 
 Speaks the mild temper, free from haughty guile, 
 And the gay innocence of foul declares. 
 
 Ye mincing daughters of fantaftic Pride \ — 
 Ye glittering flies who pant in Folly's chace ! 
 
 Votaries of Fafhion, lay your airs afide — 
 
 Come here, and learn the charms of real grace ! 
 
 See, with an eafe which Fafhion ne'er could teach, 
 
 On fteady foot fhe lightly glides along ; 
 While Health's pure glow, which Art may never reach. 
 
 And untaught glances charm the gazing throng ! 
 
 Lo ! native modefty her charms pervade, 
 
 And with unconfcious dignity adorn ! 
 This Pride would imitate But foon betray 'd, 
 
 fhe ftiffen'd mimic only claims our fcorn. 
 
HO EPISTLE TO 
 
 O ! fweet Simplicity ! dear, ruftic fair ! 
 
 Hence fhall my fong thy worth, o'er all, approve ! 
 Come — live with me ; my pure affections mare, 
 
 With native Honour, and with artlefs Love. 
 
 But ah ! thefe foft defires, this fluttering heart, 
 Prove the dear form no allegoric fhade ! 
 
 Could fairy dreams fuch kindling hopes impart, 
 So charm the fenfes, and the foul invade ? 
 
 And hark, how Admiration's raptur'd tale 
 
 Steals in foft whifpers through the ruftic throng, 
 
 *Tis fhe— my Stella ! pride of Catmofe vale, 
 Joy of each heart — and theme of every fong ! 
 
 Yet come Arcadian nymph, as Dryad fair, 
 Let the pure ftrain of artlefs paffion move : 
 
 Come live with me, my fix'd affections Ihare 
 With native Honour and with artlefs Love, 
 
 EPISTLE to MERCUTIO. July, 1791. 
 
 (From the Peripatetic.) 
 
 While you, my friend, in London's giddy town, 
 With jell and fong each grave reflection drown, 
 Flirt with gay belles, befiege fantaftic wenches 
 Who fire'Lpve's glances from their band-box trenches, 
 Whence, while their banners wave, they dauntlefs wield 
 The various arms of Love's triumphant field — 
 
MERCUTIO. HI 
 
 The high-plum'd helm that each fierce bofom awes, 
 
 And all the facred panoply of gauze : 
 
 While cares like thefe your youthful heart detain. 
 
 Far from the peaceful fhade and ruftic plain ; 
 
 Me here, remov'd from fcenes of buftling noife, 
 
 The town's lewd follies, and its fickly joys, 
 
 The Mufe perchance, perchance fome ftronger power 
 
 AttraQs to loiter in the rural bower. 
 
 Yet, truth to fay, on Catmofe' cheerful plains 
 No penfive gloom, no fombrous filence reigns ; 
 No folemn faws of philofophic pride, 
 That bid the feelings of the heart fubfide ! 
 'Tis tranfport all : the height of feftive joy : 
 And jocund hours on wings of rapture fly. 
 Here (16 Hymen !) Love triumphant dwells 
 With Jeft and Glee, and found of merry bells : 
 Mirth rules fupreme o'er every friendly breaft, 
 And yields reluclant e'en the dues of reft. 
 And yet, to hail fair Friend fhip's hallow'd pow'r, 
 From joys like thefe I fteal a filent hour, 
 To thee, my lov'd Mercutio ! to impart 
 The new fenfations of a focial heart : 
 — But let us hereto preface bid adieu, 
 While I my journey's fimple tale purfue. 
 
 Releas'd, at length, from Duty's iron chain, 
 Whofe painful links the happier wifh reftrain. 
 Full light of heart fets forth the man of rhime, 
 For cheerful Catmofe, Joy's triumphant clime — 
 Dear Land of Promife ! for whofe blifsful groves 
 (Haunts of the Virtues ! Mufes ! Graces ! Loves !) 
 
112 EPISTLE TO 
 
 Long had I languifh'd, thro' my drooping frame 
 While fond Impatience lanch'd the youthful flame! 
 And now,- no more by angry Fate delay 'd, 
 Eager I fly to clafp the blooming maid. 
 Tho Stamford's coach the Jewifh fabbath kept. 
 And man and bead in pious malice flept, 
 My ardent foul difdain'd the feeble bar. 
 Winds thwart in vain when Love's the pilot ftar ! 
 Up Highgate-hill, o'er Barnet's fatal heath, 
 Where factious Warwick breath'd his lateft breath ; 
 And hence to Hatfield, once of high renown 
 For royal domes and heaths of barren brown, 
 Thro' rain unwet, thro' dangerous roads ferene, 
 With limbs unwearied, and with cheerful mien, 
 On foot I thrid. The turtle, from the glade, 
 Trills the fad note that echoes thro' the fhade, 
 While glow-worms oft their amorous fires difplay, 
 To light the wandering lover on his way : 
 Like Hero's torch, that, thro' the midnight hour, 
 Blaz'd, long-expecting, from the fea-beat tower, 
 When bold Leander the impetuous tide 
 Stemm'd with fond arm, — and in the conflict died. 
 Ah, gentle worm ! may no fuch fate affail 
 Thy vagrant bridegroom, to the ruthlefs gale 
 Who now, perhaps, his little wing difplays, 
 With eye fail anchored on thy filver rays. 
 Swift to thy virgin bofom may the breeze 
 Bear him fecure, and all thy terrors eafe. 
 
 When now, at length, each cheerful hope was flown. 
 And round, full oft, the anxious eye was thrown, 
 
MERCUTIO. tig 
 
 Intent to feek (by angry Spleen oppreft) 
 
 Some neighbouring Inn, for hofpitable reft — 
 
 (Tho, thefe approach'd — impatient of delay — 
 
 I ftill purfu'd my folitary way!) 
 
 Advancing founds my drooping fpirits cheer, 
 
 And the loud lafli rings mufic in my ear. 
 
 And lo ! a coach, with fteeds of fiery breed, 
 
 Thro Stamford bound towards the banks of Tweed* 
 
 No room within, I cheerly mount the roof, 
 
 Againft the rain, by love, not cloathing, proof: 
 
 For, like a modern friend, fo Fate decreed ! 
 
 My good furtout lurk'd in the hour of need 
 
 Secure at home, together folded warm, 
 
 And left me fencelefs to the pelting ftorm. 
 
 But fhort the ftorm : and now, with jocund lay 
 
 And vacant laughter we deceive the way, 
 
 While our ftout guard, well foak'd with gin and ale, 
 
 Roar'd at my " Paddy Bull," and " Sheering Tale;" 
 
 Then fmoak'd his pipe, laid down his threat'ning gun. 
 
 And, while the fteeds o'er darkling wild-heaths run, 
 
 Flat on his belly, o'er the coaches eaves, 
 
 Snor'd out amain to fright away the thieves. 
 
 But fee ! — What comet, with difaftrous glare, 
 Thwarts the thick gloom, and frights the midnight air? 
 What flame infernal, by demoniac breath 
 
 Fann'd, on the confines of the lurid heath — 
 
 While haggard phantoms, with difcordant yell, 
 Throng round, malign, to brew the fatal fpell? 
 Such, to the fancy vers'd in Tales of Old, 
 .Might feem the fpeclres whom we now behold : 
 P 
 
114 EPISTLE TO 
 
 But, truth to fay, nor comet's hideous glare, 
 Nor flame infernal frights the midnight air ; 
 Nor hags, nor demons, with difcordant yell, 
 Dance round the cauldron o'er the direful fpell ; 
 But vagrant Gipfies, on the foreft's bound, 
 Squat round their fire loquacious on the ground. 
 
 Poor harmlefs vagrants ! — harmlefs when compar'd 
 WiuYthofe whom crouds adore, and courts reward— 
 The price of fell ambition, and the meed 
 Of each oppreffive, every ruthlefs deed : 
 Of cities fackd, of empires overthrown, 
 And ftruggling millions doom'd in chains to groan.— 
 Poor harmlefs vagrants ! whom the reeking knife, 
 Red with the midnight wanderer's ravifh'd life, 
 Ne'er yet reproach'd ; nor crimes of favage die, 
 That the fweet fl umbers of the night defy : 
 Whofe utmoft want ne'er owns the ftern appeal 
 To threatened fury, or the brandifrYd fteel : 
 Still rove fecure ; and may no beadle's thong 
 Remorfelefs drive your wandering groups along ! 
 But ftill to ye may wood and heath fupply 
 The darling boon of favage Liberty ! — 
 Oft, harmlefs vagrants ! as I lonely ftray, 
 May your rude groups adorn the woody way; 
 And round your kettles, pendant o'er the fire, 
 The ruddy fmoak and cheerful flame afpire, 
 While, loitering near, beneath the hawthorn (hade. 
 The tawny lover wooes the willing maid. 
 
 Light wakes the Mom, in vail of fleecy clouds, 
 Whofe meek difguife her glowing beauties fhrouds-: 
 
MERCUTIO. -115 
 
 The lark in air, the linnet on the fpray, 
 
 All feern to hail me, gratulous, and gay; 
 
 The filver Ouze, as clear it winds along, 
 
 Murmurs, refponfive to the cheerful fong, 
 
 While its brifk tenants, as they fportive glide, 
 
 Leap from the ftream , and (hew the gloffy fide. 
 
 Thus pleas'd with all that Nature's ftores difplay, 
 
 Aufpicious omens cheer me on the way ; 
 
 Till now, at length, in Stamford's ancient town, 
 
 Whofe gates and fpires four neighbouring counties own, 
 
 I light ; nor idly linger to furvey 
 
 Her ancient piles, or Wiland's wandering way ; 
 
 But mount the fteed, and fly before the gale, 
 
 With eager hopes , to Catmofe! fertile vale. 
 
 But here the joys that wait what tongue can tell ? 
 What tender tranfports in my bofom fwell 1 
 Nature's beft boons my throbbing heart divide — 
 The tender mother, and the virgin bride. 
 Oh! thou canft never guefs — canft ne'er conceive 
 What rapturous charms in love- warm *d Beauty live, 
 When the foft heart, unknown to pra&is'd guile, 
 Speaks in the tear, and fparkles in the fmile. — 
 When the long-fever'd maid, whom paffion warms, 
 With joy commutual, rufhes to your arms, 
 Drops the fond head upon your throbbing bread. 
 And yields to feelings not to be fupprefl . 
 5 Tis not the thrilling touch of fenfual joys 
 (Which Nature's boon to loweft brutes fupplics,) 
 The couch of Love — the extatic fond embrace 
 /Tho thefe from Virtue fnatch a higher grace) 
 
11 6 APOSTROPHE. 
 
 That wake (whate'er the vulgar mind may deem) 
 The richeft transports of their pure efteem, 
 Whofe flames, that glow from .intellectual fire, 
 Give foul to Senfe, and defecate Defire. 
 No : their beft joys from nobler fources fpring— - 
 Joys faints might tafte, and raptur'd feraphs ling: 
 Soul join d with foul, the fympathizing mind, 
 Truth undefiTd — and feelings all refin'd; 
 One fpirit guiding — by one will inform'd — 
 And two fond bofoms by one eiTence warm'd. 
 
 HARVEY. An APOSTROPHE. 
 (The second and third Stanzas from the Peripatetic. 1/92.) 
 
 Blest was the hour — if blifs, indeed, belong 
 To the high fervours of Poetic fong — 
 Bleft was the hour — if 'tis the blifs of youth 
 To thirft for knowledge, and to pant for truth — 
 From Academic fhades when Harvey came, 
 Wak'd the firft fpark, and fann'd the etfierial flame ; 
 When, midft Baeotian fogs, his purer ray 
 Pour'd on mine eye the intellectual day ; 
 And, fole inftruclor of my youthful mind, 
 Rous'd the fine thrill extatic and refin'd — 
 Touch'd the keen nerve, and taught the tear to flow 
 O'er Shenilone's moral page, and Jefley's artlefs woe. 
 But, ah ! more bleft had been that fairer day 
 (Why, why are profFer'd bieffings ipurn'd away ?] 
 
TO HARVEY. 117 
 
 When, gay of heart (the Tutor's tafk no more) 
 
 He profFer'd Friend [hip at my natal door : — 
 
 More bleft had been —but their ill-judging fears 
 
 Who claim'd obedience from my tender years 
 (With prudent faws from Traffic's fchool imbu'd) 
 To check the cordial fires of youth intrude : 
 Whence oft my Mufe bewails, in penfive ftrain, 
 That hearts for Friendfhip form'd, are form'd in vain. 
 
 But, oh ! that, Harvey ! to thy claffic ear 
 Some friendly chance thefe artlefs lines might bear ! 
 That fhe, the Mufe (each fordid care aloof) 
 Who weaves, with feeling hand, the airy woof, 
 From the wrought web a magic clue might lend, 
 Once more to guide thee to thy forrowing friend, 
 Who loves thy merits, and in memory bears 
 Thy mirth infiruftive, and thy friendly cares ; 
 And with this burthen faddens of the ftrain, 
 That hearts for Friendship form'd, are form'd in vain. 
 
 For ah ! what pity— fince too truly known 
 
 How thin the flowers of genuine blifs are ftrown, 
 
 In this low vale of forrows and of cares, 
 
 How fmall the harveft, and how throng'd the tares; 
 
 Along Life's road, how many a bramble grows, 
 
 How many a nettle, for one fragrant rofe, — 
 
 What pity 'tis that Friendfhip's boon refin'd 
 
 (Pleafure and food of every virtuous mind !) 
 
 Sti juld thus be caft with heedlefs fcorn away, 
 
 Smile unadmird, and unenjoy'd decay! 
 
 Come, Harvey, come ! nor let me more complain, 
 
 That hearts for Friendfhip form'd, are form'd in vain. 
 
[ »8 ] 
 
 The above form a fort offeries of the juvenile produc- 
 tions of the author ; and, as such merely they are prefented* 
 The volumes in which they appeared have fallen into 
 meritted oblivion ; from which few of the articles, it is 
 hoped, will ever be revived. In the wide chafm that 
 feparates thefe from the enfuing poems , the following is 
 introduced, from another pen. 
 
 Invocation to Poetry. By Stella. 1793. 
 
 O, Poesy ! enlivening pow'r ! 
 
 Wilt thou accept my humble praife, 
 (Sweet foother of the lonely hour !) 
 
 Nor frown upon my artlefs lays ? 
 
 When care and for row fill the breaft, 
 J Tis thou canft pour the healing balm ; 
 
 Or footh the anxious foul to reft, 
 
 When Wrongs annoy, or Fears alarm. 
 
 TTis thine to chace the gloomy thought, 
 The fullen frown, or glance fevere : 
 
 By thee the indignant eye is taught 
 To fhed the fympathifing tear. 
 
 May I thy foft, thy foo thing powV, 
 
 In each diftreffing moment, hail ! 
 Thou, who canft cheer the troubled hour, 
 
 When Wifdom's feebler efforts fail. 
 
T0 Rosa Bella Bianca, ow her Birth-day. 
 
 Norwich? Augujl 8, 1796. 
 
 Blossom of vernal fweetnefs, lovely Rofe ! 
 
 Once more I tune the long-negle£ted lay, 
 To hail the fun , whofe favouring beams difclofe 
 
 Improving beauties with this genial day. 
 
 Propitious Day ! ftill as the circling year 
 Renews its courfe, may'ft thou, at each return f 
 
 Vail'd in frefh fhow'rs of op'ning blifs appear, 
 While Health's gay fires with purer ardour burn ! 
 
 And may the Loves and Graces ftill, as now, 
 Play round the form and flufh the artlefs cheek % 
 
 While tafte and virtue crown the polifhM brow, 
 And thro' her eyes the native feelings fpeak ! 
 
 The while fome youth, by Nature's partial love 
 Form'd in the mould of Genius, Worth, and Senfe, 
 
 In early prime, her virgin heart fhall move, 
 And Hymen's torch its brighteft ray difpenfe. 
 
 So fhall the charms on her fair form imprefs'd 
 Enhance her blifs, and every tender figh 
 
 That heaves the foftnefs of Bianca's breaft, 
 Be but the herald of approaching joy ! 
 
120 TO STELLA 
 
 Thus does, fweet Maid ! the ftrain of Friendship flow. 
 Gilding thy fate in colours of the morn : 
 
 A fpring-tide life , uncmTd by wintry woe — 
 Day without cloud — a rofe without a thorn ! 
 
 But 'twill not be : fome dregs of envious care 
 In Life's incongruous cup the Fates will fling. 
 
 Beauty and Worth the bitter draught muft fhare, 
 And Wifdom's felf fhall drink at Sorrow's fpring. 
 
 Be then each cloud that glooms life's fickle day, 
 Like tranfient fhow'rs that cool the fervid Ikies ; 
 
 And from each vernal bloflbm's doom'd decay, 
 May Virtue's (tore, and Wifdom's fruits arife. 
 
 To Stella in the Country^ Dec. 1796. 
 
 Joy of my foul! who now, in Catmofe' vale, 
 
 Cradleft our drooping Infant on tby breaft, 
 And fhield'ft from Wintry blafts, that would affail 
 
 His fading Cheek, ah ! may no gale unbleft 
 Shake thy own tender frame, nor anxious care, 
 
 For him thou leav'ft, reluctant, mar thy reft. 
 Midfl thy long-fever'd Kindred may 'ft thou fhare 
 The feafon's pafthnes, and its joys encreafe 
 
 With fond remember'd tales of Infancy — - 
 
 Its artlefs pranks, and freaks of wayward ire , 
 When griefs were tranfient, when the halcyon, Peace, 
 
 Spread her gay pinion, and high-bounding Glee 
 Could every wifh to kindling hope infpire. 
 
IN THE COUNTRY. 121 
 
 Nor wilt thou, as around the focial fire 
 
 Thy childhood's firft companions throng to hear 
 The tale, and much relate, and much enquire— 
 
 Nor wilt thou then forget (the pleafing tear 
 Stealing from thy lov'd eye) to name the day 
 
 When firft thy artlefs form (remembrance dear !) 
 Array 'd in ruftic innocence, and gay 
 With all the modeft graces that adorn 
 
 The unadulterate mind, entranc'd my foul, 
 And fir'd my raptur'd fancy, as I gaz'd. 
 Ah ! be thou ever bleft ! thrice-happy morn, 
 
 Whofe imag'd joys can prefent griefs controul! 
 Bright tints of memory ne'er to be eras'd ! 
 Ye fhall not fade with Fortune's tranfient day, 
 But ftill life's thickening gloom cheer with refle&ive ray. 
 
 " Here" wilt thou fay, " beneath this ruftic roof, 
 
 " Along thofe walks, and where yon woodbines twine 
 " Their winter-widow'd arms, in mournful proof 
 
 " That all that's fweet is tranfient— all that fhine 
 " In vernal hope, mufl yield to the ftern power 
 
 " Of bleak Difafter, and each bloom refign 
 " Wak'd to fhort rapture in youth's feverifh hour : 
 '■* Here firft we met — here chang'd the mutual glance 
 
 " That with myfterious mufings thrill'd the heart, 
 
 " And wak'd the illufive glow of young defire : 
 
 " Pleafing, fcarce felt, till Abfence from his trance 
 
 " Awak'd the (lumbering Love, and barb'd. his dart, 
 " And fann'd, with many a figh, the genial fire: — 
 
122 TO STELLA. 
 
 <c Here firft he told bis paffion, mingling oft 
 
 " A melancholy tale, of ftars unkind, 
 44 And threatning woes, and faithlefs friends, that fcoft 
 
 " At undeferv'd misfortunes ; there reclin'd, 
 44 His plaintive verfe, colour'd with darkeft hues, 
 
 44 His hopelefs fortunes, and his wayward mind ; 
 44 Deep'ning each fhade, and with a moral mufe, 
 44 Warning the partial heart he fought to gain." 
 
 Thus wilt thou fay, and own, with modeft pride, 
 Thy artlefs looks that fpoke the mutual flame, 
 When thy young bofom, kindling at the drain, 
 
 Confefs'd the lover, monitor, and guide — 
 Mod bleft, if thy propitious fmiles might claim 
 The power to gild for him life's rugged road 
 And guide his wounded ftep to Pleafure's calm abode. 
 
 Yes, Stella, thus, amid the cordial throng, 
 Wilt thou our days of early love renew : 
 
 Days of delight ! which memory would prolong- 
 To paffion facred , and to nature true. 
 
 But other days— another fcene fucceeds. 
 And private blifs is loft in public woes : 
 
 O'er proflrate rights the patriot bofom bleeds, 
 And Love's foft flame, for Ate's torch foregoes. 
 
 Me, firft arous'd by Afric's clanking chain, 
 Then urg'd by Gallia's ftruggle, to enquire 
 
 What woes, what wrongs Man's trampled race fuftain, 
 Stern Duty bids to ftrike the bolder lyre. 
 
IN THE COUNTRY. 123 
 
 Harfh founds the note in Power's infatuate ear; 
 
 Yet Man ftill groans; and claims a louder firing: 
 The heart's torn fibres feel the call fevere ! — 
 
 The heart's beft pleafures fly, with trembling wing. 
 
 Ah ! moft unbleft, whom thoughts like thefe infpire ! 
 
 His eyes no more fhall tranquil (lumbers clofe; 
 His proudeft joy— a feverifh, tranfient fire ! 
 
 His faireft hope — a catalogue of woes ! 
 
 Him lading hatreds, fhort-liv'd friendfhips wait, 
 Envy's foul breath, and Slander's forked tongue. 
 
 Whom moil he ferves, (hall darken moft hjs fate, 
 And whom he fhelters, load with heavieft wrong. 
 
 Imperious Duty ! rigid, Spartan guide ! 
 
 Strew, drew, at times, a rofe among thy thorns ; 
 Or fteel each votive breaft with ftoic pride, 
 
 'Till from the gloom refurgent Virtue dawns. 
 
 The Tartan Pladdie. Feb. 4, 1797. 
 
 In Oflian's Hall, the bard of Yore 
 
 Would charm the Highland lafs and laddie, 
 With tuneful harp, and fongs in (tore 
 Of feats perform'd in Tartan Pladdie. 
 O ! the graceful Tartan Pladdie, 
 The pride of Highland lafs and laddie, 
 While verfe can charm, Or beauty warm* 
 We'll ne'er forget the Tartan Pladdie. 
 
1 24 THE TARTAN 
 
 Then Love was free from fordid guile. 
 
 And Freedom warm'd each gallant laddie , 
 And worth alone could win the fmile 
 Of bonny lafs in Tartan Pladdie. 
 O I the graceful Tartan Pladdie , 
 That deck'd, of Yore, the lafs and laddie ! 
 
 So brave — fo rare! So kind — fo fair! 
 
 Was youth and lafs in Tartan Pladdie. 
 
 But not on days like thefe I call, 
 
 Nor fing of Highland lafs or laddie ; 
 High-bofom'd maid in Offian's Hall, 
 Or antique chief in Tartan Pladdie. 
 
 But O ! the modern Tartan Pladdie , 
 For Sara wove by fkilful laddie ! 
 My verfe effays To fing the praife 
 Of Sara, in her Tartan Pladdie. — 
 
 Soft is her air : no fweeter fmile 
 
 E'er won the heart of faithful laddie, 
 Nor bofom more eftrang'd to guile 
 Was ever deck'd with Tartan Pladdie. 
 O ! the modern Tartan Pladdie I 
 That wins the heart of every laddie : 
 The proudeft fair In Fafhion's glare, 
 Might envy Sara in her Pladdie. 
 
 But fhoul-d I fing her charms of mind, 
 My verfe would lire each Kilning Laddie, 
 
 Her temper gentle, free, and kind, 
 And gayer than her Tartan Pladdie, 
 
PLADDIE. 125 
 
 O ! the lafs in Tartan Pladdie ! 
 How bleft fhall be that favour'd laddie, 
 The guilelefs youth Whofe fervent Truth 
 Shall win the lafs in Tartan Pladdie. 
 
 Thus do the Loves and Graces blend 
 
 In her, who wears the Tartan Pladdie, 
 In every nymph fhe finds a friend, 
 A lover in each youthful laddie. 
 O the graceful Tartan Pladdie ! 
 That wins, alike, the lafs and laddie ! 
 Long may the fair Each blefling (hare, 
 
 And charm us with her Tartan Pladdie ! 
 
 For me, whofe wedded love is plight 
 
 To her, jar off, who loves her laddie, 
 In Stella's charms I ftill delight, 
 
 Tho never deck'd in Tartan Pladdie ! 
 Yet — O ! the lafs in Tartan Pladdie! 
 My verfe (hall tell to every laddie, 
 In friendly lays, The peerlefs praife 
 
 Of Sara in her Tartan Pladdie. 
 
 Yes, Stella! thine's the figh of love — ■ 
 
 And well thou know'ft thy faithful laddie; 
 But friendfhips flame thoult ftill approve 
 For Sara in her Tartan Pladdie. 
 O ! the lafs in Tartan Pladdie ! 
 Soon may me blefs fome worthy laddie, 
 While I ftill prove A brother's love 
 
 For Sara in her Tartan Pladdie. 
 
[ 126 ] 
 To Stella. Feb, 8, 1797. 
 
 When kind Hope, at feafons fmiling, 
 
 Tells of changing fortune nigh — 
 When gay Fancy, fweetly guiling, 
 
 Whifpers of approaching joy, 
 Then my thoughts, by Love directed. 
 
 To my Stella's bofom flee ; 
 And the flattering boon expe&ed, 
 
 Hopes its worth from pleafing thee. 
 
 Or when Fortune, fadly glooming, 
 
 Threats with ftorms of hovering woes, 
 Fancy ftill, thy form afluming, 
 
 Grief's increafing pang beftows. 
 Every rude aflault of anguifh 
 
 This undaunted breaft can bear; 
 But fhall Stella droop and languifh ?— ~ 
 
 Every fhaft can wound me there ! 
 
 Lines , written at Bridgewater, in Somerfetjhire^ on the 
 2jth of July, 1797; during a long excursion, in quejl 
 of a peaceful retreat. 
 
 Day of my double birth ! who gave me firft 
 To breathe Life's troubled air ; and, kindlier far 
 Gave all that makes Life welcome— gave me her 
 Who now, far diftant, fheds, perchance, the tear 
 Inpenfive folitude, and chides the hours 
 
WRITTEN AT BRIDGE WATER. 127 
 
 That keep her truant wanderer from her arms— % & 
 
 Her's and our fmiling babes : — Eventful Day! 
 
 How fhall I greet thee now, at thy return , 
 
 So often mark'd with fadnefs? Art thou, fay, 
 
 Once more arriv'd a harbinger of woes, 
 
 Precurfor of a Year of miferies , 
 
 Of ftorms and perfecutions , of the pangs 
 
 Of difappointed hope, and keen regrets, 
 
 Wrung from the bofom by a fordid World 
 
 That kindnefs pays with hatred, and returns 
 
 Evil for good ? — a World mod fcorpion like, 
 
 That ftings what warms it, and the ardent glow 
 
 Of blefl Benevolence too oft tranfmutes 
 
 To fullen gloom and four mifanthropy, 
 
 Wounding, with venom'd tooth, the foftering breaft 
 
 That her milk turns to gall. Or art thou come, 
 
 In moft unwonted guife, O, fateful Day ! 
 
 With cheering prophecy of kindlier times ? — 
 
 Of hours of fweet retirement, tranquil joys 
 
 Of friendship, and of love— of ftudious eafe, 
 
 Of philofophic thought — poetic dreams 
 
 In dell romantic, or by bubbling brook, 
 
 High wood, or rocky more; where Fancy's train, 
 
 Solemn or gay, fhall in the funbeam fport, 
 
 Or murmur in the gloom, peopling earth, air, 
 
 Ocean, and woodland haunt,— mountain, and cave, 
 
 With wildeft phantazies:— wild, but not vain, 
 
 For, but for dreams like thefe, Meonides 
 
 Had never Ihook the foul with epic fong, 
 
 Nor Milton, numbering underneath the fhade 
 
1*8 WRITTEN AT 
 
 Of fancy-haunted oak , heard the loud ftrain 
 
 Of heavenly minftrelfey : — nor yet had he, 
 
 Shakefpear (in praife of whom fmooth Avon dill 
 
 Flows eloquent to every Briton's ear,) 
 
 Pierc'd the dark womb of Nature, with keen glance, 
 
 Tracing the embrio Paffions ere their birth, 
 
 And every myftic movement of the foul 
 
 Baring to public ken. — O, Bards ! to whom 
 
 Youth owes its emulation, Agetheblifs 
 
 Of many a wintry evening, dull and fad, 
 
 But for your cheering aid! — Ye from whofe ftrains, 
 
 As from a font of Infpiration, oft 
 
 The quickning mind, elfe ftagnant, learns to flow 
 
 In tides of generous ardour, fcattering wide 
 
 Smiling fertility, frefh fruits and flowers 
 
 Of intellectual worth ! — O ! might my foul 
 
 Henceforth with yours hold converfe, in the fcenes 
 
 Where Nature cherifhes Poetic-Thought, 
 
 Beit cradled in the folitary haunts 
 
 Where buflling Cares intrude not, nor the throng 
 
 Of cities, or of courts. Yet not for aye 
 
 In hermit-like feclufion would I dwell 
 
 (My foul eftranging from my brother Man) 
 
 Forgetful and forgotten: rather oft, 
 
 With fome few minds congenial, let me ftray 
 
 Along the Mufes' haunts, where converfe, meet 
 
 For intellectual beings, may aroufe 
 
 The foul's fublimer energies, or wing 
 
 The fleeting Time moft cheerily — The Time 
 
 Which, tho fwift-fleeting, fcatters, as he flies, 
 
BRIDGEWATER. 129 
 
 Seeds of delight, that, like the furrow'd grain, 
 Strew'd by the farmer, as he onward (talks 
 Over his well-plough 'd acres, (hall produce. 
 In happy feafon, its abundant fruits. 
 
 Day of my double Birth! if fuch the Year 
 Thou ufhereft in, moft welcome ! — for my foul 
 Is fick of public turmoil — ah, moft fick 
 Of the vain effort to redeem a Race 
 Enflav'd, becaufe degenerate; loft to Hope, 
 Becaufe to Virtue loft — wrapp'd up in Self, 
 In fordid avarice, luxurious pomp, 
 
 And profligate intemperance a Race 
 
 Fierce without courage; abje£t., and yet proud; 
 And moft licentious, tho' moft far from free. 
 
 Ah ! let me then, far from the ftrifeful fcenes 
 Of public life (where Reafon's warning voice 
 Is heard no longer, and the trump of Truth 
 Who blows but wakes The Ruffian Crew of Power 
 To deeds of maddeft anarchy and blood) 
 Ah! let me, far in fome fequefter'd dell. 
 Build my low cot; moft happy might it prove, 
 My Samuel ! near to thine, that I might oft 
 Share thy fweet converfe, beft-belov'd of friends! — 
 Long-lov'd ere known: for kindred fympathies 
 Link"d, tho far diftant, our congenial fouls. 
 
 Ah! 'twould be fweet, beneath the neighb'ring thatch* 
 In philofophic amity to dwell, 
 Inditing moral verfe, or tale, or theme, 
 Gay or inftruclive; and it would be fweet , 
 With kindly interchange of mutual aid. 
 
130 WRITTEN AT 
 
 To delve our little garden plots, the while 
 
 Sweet converfe flow'd, fufpending oft the arm 
 
 And half-driven fpade, while, eager, one propounds, 
 
 And liftens one, weighing each pregnant word. 
 
 And pondering fit reply , that may untwift 
 
 The knotty point — perchance, of import high—- — 
 
 Of Moral Truth, of Caufes Infinite, 
 
 Creating Power ! or Uncreated Worlds 
 
 Eternal and uncaus'd ! or whatfoe'er , 
 
 Of Metaphyfic, or of Ethic lore, 
 
 The mind, with curious fubtilty, purfues «— 
 
 Agreeing, or difienting — fweet alike, 
 
 When wifdom, and not viclory, the end. 
 
 And 'twould be fweet, my Samuel, ah! moft fweet 
 
 To fee our little infants ftretch their limbs 
 
 In gambols unreftrain'd, and early learn 
 
 Practical love, and, Wifdom's nobleft lore. 
 
 Fraternal kindlinefs ; while rofieft health , 
 
 Bloom'd ontheir fun-burnt cheeks. And 'twould be fweet. 
 
 When what to toil was due, to ftudy what, 
 
 And literary effort, had been paid, 
 
 Alternate, in each other's bower to fit, 
 
 In fummer's genial feafon; or, when, bleak, 
 
 The wintry blaft had ftripp'd the leafy fhade, 
 
 Around the blazing hearth, focial and gay, 
 
 To fhare our frugal viands, and the bowl 
 
 Sparkling with home-brew'd beverage: — by our fides 
 
 Thy Sara, and my Sufan, and, perchance, 
 
 Allfoxden's mufing tenant, and the maid 
 
 Of ardent eye, who, with fraternal love, 
 
BRIDGEWATER. 131 
 
 Sweetens his folitude. With thefe fhould join 
 
 Arcadian Pool, fwain of a happier age, 
 
 When Wifdom and Refinement lov'd to dwell 
 
 With Ruftic Plainnefs, and the paftoral vale 
 
 Was vocal to the melodies of verfe — 
 
 Echoing fweet minftrelfey. With fuch, my friend! — 
 
 With fuch how pleafant to unbend awhile, 
 
 Winging the idle hour with fong, or tale, 
 
 Pun, or quaint joke, or converfe, fuch as fits 
 
 Minds gay, but innocent : and we would laugh— 
 
 (Unlefs, perchance, pity's more kindly tear 
 
 Check the obftreperous mirth) at fuch who wafte 
 
 Life's precious hours in the delufive chace 
 
 Of wealth and worldly gewgaws, and contend 
 
 For honours emptier than the hollow voice 
 
 That rings in 'Echo's cave; and which, like that, 
 
 Exifts but in the babbling of a world 
 
 Creating its own wonder. Wifelier we, 
 
 To intelle&ual joys will thus devote 
 
 Our fleeting years; mingling Arcadian fports 
 
 With healthful induftry. O, it would be 
 
 A Golden Age reviv'd ! — Nor would we lack 
 
 Woodnymph, or Nai'd, to complete the group 
 
 Of claflic fable; for, in happy time, 
 
 Sylvanus, Chefter, in each hand fhould bring 
 
 The filler nymphs, Julia of radiant eye 
 
 And ftately tread, the Dryad of the groves; 
 
 And fhe, of fofter mien, the meek-ey'd maid, 
 
 Penfively fweet ! whom Fancy well might deem 
 
 The Fairy of the brooks that bubble round. 
 
1 3 2 WRITTEN AT BRIDGE WATER. 
 
 Ah ! fateful Day ! what marvel if my foul 
 Receive thy vifits awfully ? and fain 
 With Fancy's glowing characlers would trace 
 Thy yet to me blank legend P — painting moft 
 What moil: my bofom yearns for — Friendfhip's joys, 
 And focial happinefs, and tranquil hours 
 Of fludious indolence; or, fweeter far ! 
 The high poetic rapture, that becalms 
 Even while it agitates ? — Ah, fateful Day ! 
 If that the Year thcu lead'ft (as fain my foul 
 Would augur, from fome hours of joy late paft, 
 And friendfhip's unexpected) — if the Year 
 Thou ufhereft in, has aught, perchance, in (tore 
 
 To realize this vifion, welcome moft 
 
 Ah moft, moft welcome! for my foul, at peace., 
 
 Shall to it's native pleafures then return, 
 
 And in my Sufan's arms, each pang forgot, 
 
 Nightly will I repofe — yielding my foul 
 
 (Unfhar'd, unharrafs'd, by a thanklefs world) 
 
 To the domeftic virtues , calm , and fweet , 
 
 Of hufband and of father — to the joys 
 
 Of relative affiance; — its mild cares 
 
 And ftinglefs extafies; while gentleft Sleep, 
 
 Unwoo'd, uncall'd, on the foft pillow waits 
 
 Of envylefs Obfcurity. — Ah, come! 
 
 Hours of long-wifhd tranquility ! ah come: 
 
 Snatch from my couch the thorn of anxious thought f 
 
 That I may tafte the joys my foul beft loves, 
 
 And find, once more, ^ that Being is a Blifs \* 
 
[ *33 3 
 
 The Farewell. 
 
 Written at the requefl of an intelligent and beautiful young 
 lady 9 with whom the Author happened to meet l 8 ^Uley, 
 in Glocejlerfhire. Aug, io, 1797. 
 
 A wanderer from my diftant home. 
 
 In queft of Wifdom's various lore, 
 Awhile, with devious fteps, I roam, 
 
 And Pleafure's fofter fcenes explore. 
 In Uley's fweet fequefter'd fhades 
 
 I feek the fleeting form of Joy, 
 Where Strife, nor bufy Pomp pervades, 
 
 Nor envious Cares the foul annoy. 
 
 u To Lloyd's delightful bower repair ! ' 
 
 " Perchance the Nymph may there refide." 
 Thanks whifpering Sylph. 1 found her there, 
 
 In Youth's foft bloom, and Beauty's pride. 
 A wreath of flowers, of rofeate glow, 
 
 The treffes of her brow confin'd ; 
 While, loofely, o'er her robe of fnow, 
 
 The playful ringlets flow'd behind. 
 
 In modeft guife, that robe behold 
 
 Enfhrine from view each fofter grace. 
 Yet may the eye, thro every fold, 
 
 The magic curves of beauty trace. 
 What more could partial Heaven difpenfe 
 
 To fuch a fhape and fuch an air ? 
 ei The charms of temper — genius — fenfe! 1 ' — 
 
 Senfe, genius, temper — all are there. 
 
*34 THE FAREWELL. 
 
 Pleas'd with the Vifion — rarely feen, 
 
 I gaz'd the happy hours away; 
 Till Twilight, from her thickening fkreen, 
 
 Reproachful chid the fond delay. 
 The Bird of Night (too fadly wife !) 
 
 Thus feem'd, in harfheft notes, to fing— 
 "Remember Man, that Pleafure flies: 
 
 " She rides on Time's impetuous wing : 
 
 u Or if, awhile, her deftin'd flight 
 
 " The partial vifion would delay, 
 " Stern Duty, with relentlefs might, 
 
 " The haplefs votary tears away." 
 
 Ahl Bird of Night (too fadly wife!) 
 
 I own thy envious warning true; 
 For Duty calls, and Pleafure flies : — 
 
 O ! blooming form of Joy, adieu ! 
 
 " Yet paufe," fhe faid, " or e'er thou part, 
 
 <; Invoke the Mufe, and tune the lay ; 
 " If Uley's fhades have footh'd the heart, 
 
 " With grateful verfe the boon repay." 
 Ah ! hard requeft. A blifs fo pure, 
 
 What hafty verfe can fitly tell ? 
 What can it — but the nymph affure, 
 
 " Remembrance fhall on Uley dwel ? " 
 
 Yes, tho thro' adverfe regions bound, 
 Tho Pleafures court, or Cares annoy, 
 
 I'll flill remember where I found 
 The blooming form of fleeting Joy : 
 
THE REPLY. 135 
 
 And, in her diftant home reclin'd, 
 I'll fometimes hope the gentle maid. 
 
 With pleas'd regret, will call to mind, 
 The wandering Bard in Uley's (hade,. 
 
 The Reply. 
 
 "Fortune waft you on your way!'* 
 
 Sighs the Nymph, in fweet adieu— 
 " Fortune waft you on your way, 
 
 " Pleafure lead, and fmiles purfue. 
 " To the partner of your heart, 
 
 " Speed ye on the wings of Joy : 
 " Bleft the partner of your heart ! 
 
 " Sorrow ne'er your peace annoy. 
 
 " Fortune waft you on your way ! — 
 
 " Till the gentle fair you fee. 
 " Love fhall crown you— far away : 
 
 " Yet, may Friendfhip think on me c 
 46 Thy fummer bower, thy wintry fire 
 
 " May the focial pleafures throng :— 
 " Summer's bower, and winter's fire 
 
 " Cheer'd alike with tuneful fong. 
 
 " Fortune waft you on your way !" 
 
 Sighs the nymph — but fighs in vain- 
 Fortune turns another way : 
 
 Verfe and Beauty plead in vain. 
 
1 36 ON LEAVING THE BOTTOMS 
 
 On leaving the Bottoms oj Glocefterjhire ; where the Au- 
 thor had been entertained by Jeveral families with 
 great hofpitality. Aug. 1 2, 1 797. 
 
 Regions of hofpitality ! dear fcenes 
 Where I have loitered cheerily, and quaft 
 The neclar'd bowl of Friendfhip, or have rov'd 
 The live-long rummer's day, in penfive thought, 
 Or kindlier converfe — Ah ! delightful vales ! 
 O'er which the hand of partial Nature fheds 
 Each wilder grace, while Culture and the Arts 
 Of civiliz'd improvement fpread around 
 Their gay varieties, enlivening all 
 With focial decoration — fare ye well — 
 For I muft leave ye, pleafant haunts ! brakes, bourns, 
 And populous hill, and dale, and pendant woods ; 
 And you, meandering ftreams, and you, ye cots 
 And hamlets, that, with many a whiten'd front, 
 Sprinkle the woody fteep ; or lowlier ftoop, 
 Thronging, gregarious, round the ruftic fpire, 
 Warm in the quiet glen. Ah ! with what joy 
 (Scenes that I leave reluctant !) with what joy 
 Have I beheld ye, at the varying hour, 
 Dawn, or the noon of night, or mid the glare 
 Of Phoebus' fultry feafon, when your groves 
 Woo'd to fequefter'd mufings. Thence, how fweet 
 (From your romantic fcenes, and fylvan haunts — 
 Tho fylvan, yet not folitary) to hear 
 The diftant hum, that, as from neftafd hives 
 
OF GLOCESTERSHIRE. 137 
 
 Stord with the fragrance of your thymic banks, 
 Came whifpering on the breeze : for not to gloom 
 Lethargic, or the hermit's inward prayer 
 Of vifionary filence, are your haunts 
 (As erft, perchance, in Superftkion's day) 
 Confign'd, and pious inutility — 
 Once holy deem'd. Here holier Induftry, 
 Even from the dawning to the weftern ray , 
 And oft by midnight taper, patient, plies 
 Her tafk affiduous; and the day with fongs, 
 The night with many an earth-ftar, far defcried 
 By the lone traveller, cheers amidft her toil. 
 Nor cheerlefs fhe ; nor to her numerous race — 
 If femblance may be trufted — (as too oft) 
 Like a penurious ftep-dame, fcantily 
 The appointed tafk rewarding. By her fide 
 Sits lowly Comfort, in her decent ftole 
 (If homely, yet commodious,) dealing round 
 The well-earn'd bread of fuftenance ; while fhout 
 The circling infants; their (leek ruddy cheeks, 
 Like the funn'd fide of brown Pomona's fruit, 
 Gladdening the kindred eye. Ah ! 'tis a fcene 
 That wakes to focial rapture. Nor, as yet, 
 Towers from each peaceful dell the unwieldy pride 
 Of Factory over-grown; where Opulence, 
 Difpeopling the neat cottage, crowds his walls 
 (Made peftilent by congregated lungs, 
 And lewd aflbciation) with a race 
 Of infant (laves, brok'n timely to the yoke 
 Of unremitting Drudgery — no more 
 S 
 
1 38 ON LEAVING GLOUCESTERSHIRE. 
 
 By relative endearment, or the voice 
 Of matronly inftrudion , interfpers'd — 
 Cheering, or fage; nor by the fports relax'd 
 (To fuch how needful !) of their unknit prime 
 Once deem'd the lawful charter. Little here 
 Intrude fuch pompous manfions — better mifs'd. 
 Therefore I love thee, Chalford, and ye vales 
 Of Stroud, irriguous : but flill more I love 
 For hofpitable pleafures here enjoy'd, 
 And cordial intercourfe. Yet muft I leave 
 Your focial haunts — for not my unblefl feet 
 Yet may I reft, or my long wanderings clofe, 
 Tho weary'd : but thro' many an untried fcene 
 (Perhaps from this how differing!) fhape my way, 
 Beneath my weight of forrows; where to find 
 Some nook obfcure, that I may lay them down, 
 And lap me in Oblivion. Once again, 
 Then, once again, and my full heart no more 
 
 Lingering fhall falter once again, farewell — 
 
 Dear fcenes of hofpitality and joy! 
 
 A long farewell : — fori, perchance, no more, 
 
 Lonely, or mingling with the cordial group 
 
 That made your haunts thrice lovely, hence mail trace 
 
 Your wild varieties. Yet in my heart 
 
 Shall live your fcenes endear'd; and when, at eve, 
 
 With her, my foul's lov'd partner, by the light 
 
 Of blazing fuel, o'er the wint'ry hearth, 
 
 Of joys pall by, and the remember'd fmiles 
 
 Of friendfhip, ftill more cheering, I renew 
 
 The treafur'd images, ah !. then the names 
 
THE WOODBINE. 139 
 
 Of Norton and of Newcomb — on my tongue, 
 And hofpitable Partridge, not unmark'd 
 With lengthen'd emphafis, mall frequent dwell : 
 And theirs, the cordial youths, who to each fcene, 
 Of curious obfervation led my fteps 
 Inquifitive; and, with their focial mirth, 
 Deceiv'd the way. And, as thefe fcenes renew'd, 
 Cheer our lone cottage, the footh'd heart fhall fmile, 
 Conciliated, that, fome there are — fome few, 
 Still warm and generous, by the changeling world 
 Not yet debauch'd, nor to the yoke of fear 
 Bending the abject neck : but who, erect 
 In confcious principle, ftill dare to love 
 The Man profcrib'd for loving human kind, 
 
 The Woodbine. Dovedale, Off. 1797. 
 
 Sweet flower! that loitered on the autumnal branch 
 Beyond thy wonted feafon, pleas'd to view, 
 In Dove's pure mirror, thy reflected charms , 
 And cheer her with thy fragrance, be thou bleft !— 
 For thou haft footh'd my heart ; and thy foft fceiu 
 (Mild as the balmy breath of early love !) 
 Hath warm'd my kindling fancy with the thoughts 
 Of joys long paft — of vernal days, how fweet ! 
 Paft with my gentle Stella , far away — 
 Even in the vale of Catmofe. Or my heart , 
 Turning from retrofpects to dreams of hope — 
 Paternal hope 1 can dwell on thee, fweet flower ! 
 (Emblem of artlefs foftnefs) till I fee, 
 
140 TO THE INFANT 
 
 In Fancy's glafs, the offspring of my love 
 
 Seeking the fragrant bower, to breathe, or hear, 
 
 (In Youth's due feafon) the delightful tale 
 
 Of foul-awakening paffion. Gentle flower ! 
 
 The thought, perchance, is wild — the hope is vain — 
 
 (For, ah ! what blighting mildews wait the hours 
 
 Of life's frail fpring tide!) yet 'tis cheering fweet — 
 
 And my heart hails it, gentle flower ! — well pleas'd 
 
 If o'er the fterrile fcene of real life 
 
 Imagination fometimes fhed around 
 
 Her tranfient blooms : — for blifsful thoughts are blifs. 
 
 To the Infant Hampden .—Written during a Jleep- 
 lefs night. Derby. Ocl. 1797. 
 
 Sweet Babe ! that, on thy mother's guardian bread, 
 Slumbered, unheedful of the autumnal blaft 
 That rocks our lowly dwelling, nor dofl dream 
 Of woes, or cares, or perfecuting rage, 
 Or rending paffions, or the pangs that wait 
 On ill-requited fervices, fleep on; 
 Sleep, and be happy ! — 'Tis the fole,relief 
 This anxious mind can hope, from the dire pangs 
 Of deep corroding wrong, that thou, my babe! 
 And the fweet twain — the firftlings of my love ! 
 As yet are blcft ; and that my heart's beft pride, 
 Who, with maternal fondnefs, pillows thee 
 Befide thy Life's warm fountain, is not quite 
 Hopelefs, orjoylefs; but, with matron cares. 
 And calm domeftic Virtues, can avert 
 
HAMPDEN. 141 
 
 The melancholy fiend, and in your fmiles 
 
 Read namelefs confolations. Ah ! fleep on— ■ 
 
 As yet unconfcious of The Patriot's name, 
 
 Or of a patriot's forrows — of the cares 
 
 For which thy name-fire bled; and, more unbleft. 
 
 Thy natural father, in his native land, 
 
 Wanders an exile; and, of all that land, 
 
 Can find no fpot his home. Ill-omen'd babe ! 
 
 Conceiv'd in tempefts , and in tempefts born ! 
 
 What deftiny awaits thee? — -Reeklefs thou. 
 
 Oh ! bleft inapprehenfion ! Let it laft. 
 
 Sleep on, my Babe! now while the rocking wind 
 
 Pipes, mournful , lengthning my no&urnal plaint 
 
 With troubled fymphony ! — Ah ! fleep fecure : 
 
 And may thy dream of Life be ne'er difturb'd 
 
 With vifions fuch as mar thy father's peace — 
 
 Vifions (Ah ! that they were but fuch indeed !) 
 
 That fhew this world a wildernefs of wrongs — 
 
 A wafte of troubled waters : whelming floods 
 
 Of tyrannous injuftice, canopy'd 
 
 With clouds dark louring ; whence the pelting florins 
 
 Of cold unkindnefs the rough torrents fwell, 
 
 On every fide refiftlefs. There my Ark — 
 
 The fcanty remnant of my delug'd joys ! 
 
 Floats anchor lefs; while thro' the dreary round, 
 
 Fluttering on anxious pinion, the tired foot 
 
 Of perfecuted Virtue cannot find 
 
 One fpray on which to reft ; or fcarce one leaf 
 
 To cheer with promife of fubfiding woe. 
 
[ 142 ] 
 
 m a » % a* 
 
 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 T#e following thought originated in one of thofe infan- 
 tile endearments, to which the ' parental heart cannot 
 — perhaps, ought not to be infenfible. It occurred, and 
 was haflily committed to paper, during the buftle and 
 preparation for the author's removal, with his family, 
 
 from Derby , to Llys-Wen. It is, perhaps , fomewhat 
 more tinctured with political fentiment, than is en- 
 tirely confflent with the general tenour and object of 
 this Publication : but an inter efl of another fort for- 
 bad its fupprejfion. It forms a natural prologue to 
 the Tragedy that follows ; and, on that account, the 
 
 fenfibility of the reader, whatever his opinions may 
 happen to be, will readily excufe the infertion. 
 
 Dear is the Babe — thrice dear, to my fond heart ! 
 For fhe was my firft born ; and fhe has footh'd, 
 With many an infant fmile, the anxious hours 
 Of hard captivity ; what time, impell'd 
 By tyrannous fufpicion, and the third 
 Of uncontroul'd dominion, impious men 
 Immur'd thy patriot fons, Oh, haplefs Ifle! 
 Once deem'd the land of Freedom , now the den 
 
MARIA. i 43 
 
 Of infamous Corruption. Then how oft 
 
 Yearn'd my fond heart, and for the focial blifs, 
 
 Permitted at fhort intervals, and rare — 
 
 Rare, and imperfect; by the watchful eyes, 
 
 And ears, and prying infolence of guards 
 
 Check'd and imjbitter'd, have I heav'd the figh, 
 
 And felt the anxious wifli , that yet the tongue 
 
 Difdained to utter, or the throbbing breaft 
 
 To own, uncheck'd: — alive to every pang 
 
 That Nature dictates; but, not lefs, alive 
 
 To the ftrong fenfe of duty; to the voice 
 
 Of patriots and of martyrs, oft array'd, - 
 
 At dawn or even-tide, around my couch, - 
 
 With prefence all infpiring, and with tongues 
 
 Awfully eloquent, that bad me think 
 
 " 'Twas for Mankind I fuffer'd — for the caufe 
 
 " For which a Hampden fought, a Sidney bled; 
 
 " For which the Gracchi perim'd, and for which 
 
 " Each high exploit that, with unweary'd breath, 
 
 " Fame, even from eldeft time, {till trumpets forth 
 
 " Was erft achieved."— Ah ! virions, that could roufe 
 
 Enthufiaftic ardours ! ye were oft 
 
 My props, my confolations : ye could turn 
 
 My bonds to trophies, my keen wrongs to boons, 
 
 My folitude to high communion; — 
 
 Could make me laugh to fcorn the threats of Power- 
 
 His mock tribunals, folemn pageantries, 
 
 And axe, already whetted in the paufe 
 
 Of bloody expectation. Ah ! how oft, 
 
 Warm'd by fuch thoughts, has the gaunt fcafTold feem'd. 
 
144 
 
 MARIA, 
 
 A car of glorious triumph , banner'd round 
 
 With wreaths and well-earn'd trophies. Death no more 
 
 Was hideous; and the Tyrant loft his power. 
 
 But there were times when fonder thoughts prevaiPd, 
 Soft'ning, but not abating, the ftern brow 
 Of Patriot-Emulation : — chiefly then 
 When, with a tardy pace, the wiftid for hour 
 Approach'd, that to a hufband's , father's light 
 Promis'd the focial banquet. Then — ah! then, 
 When thro' my grated dungeon I have gaz'd , 
 With draining eye unmov'd, upon the gate 
 Thro' which the partner of my foul fhould pafs — 
 
 And this, my only babe : my only, then, 
 
 And ftill my beft beloved! — ah ! how high 
 
 (With what a tide of fervour thro' my breaft) 
 
 S well'd the fond paffion — for Thee, babe belov'd ! — 
 
 (Even in the earlieft dawn of infancy, 
 
 So fweet thy promife !) and, for Her, more dear 
 
 To my connubial heart, that fhe had giv'n 
 
 Birth to thy infant fweetnefs. 
 
 OS. 1797, 
 
[ MS ] 
 
 EFFUSION I. Llys-Wen, Feb. 1800. 
 
 7* J G- -. 
 
 AH! generous friend ! who, with a patriot's zeal, 
 Stood'ft forth, undaunted, in oppreffion's hour, 
 To fhield this head devoted; and who ftill, 
 With unrepenting kindnefs (moll unlike 
 The changeling multitude) effay'ft to prop 
 The reed thou fav'd'ft unbroken — vain the hope ! — 
 Tho now no more, with her infenfate howl, 
 The demon Perfecution, tir'd, intrudes 
 On my fequefter'd privacy — tho late 
 The autumnal deluge, by thy care difarm'd, 
 Fell on my fields innoxious, and the rage 
 Of hoftile elements, by thee oppos'd 
 With fympathifing friendship , but fecurd 
 A lefs penurious harveft: — vain the care 
 That from remorfelefs Deftiny would fnatch 
 Her hopelefs vicnm. Me, from ill to ill, 
 From woe to woe ftill urging, her fierce hate 
 Purfues inceffant, and has pierc'd, at lail, 
 With barbed (haft, that never (hall be drawn 
 The feat of vital feeling. Yes. 'tis here : 
 Deep in my heart I feel it: the poor heart 3 
 That with eonvulfive wildnefs throbs, awhile -, 
 
1*6 PATERNAL TEARS. Eff. 1. 
 
 But foon fhall throb no more. So deems, at leaft, 
 
 Hope, that has now no refuge but defpair — 
 
 In foothing ftrain fo whifpers : So the chords 
 
 Of this frail being (fenfitive too much 
 
 To every touch of paflion) fad , reply 
 
 With diffonance refponfive. Yes they jar : 
 
 Each nerve and fibre feels the untuning touch 
 
 Of mod: affur'd decay. Dim fwims the fight; 
 
 The vital fpirits languifh ; and the blood, 
 
 No more obedient to the order'd courfe 
 
 Of felf-preferving Nature, refluent oft 
 
 Turns on her o'ercharg'd fountain; or, impell'd 
 
 By wildering Anguifh, nifties to the brain, 
 
 And whelms the fenfe in apoplectic whirl, 
 
 That Nature's chain feems burfting. — Why but fee?ns? 
 
 Why is the ftroke retarded ? Ah ! my friend ! 
 
 That thefe prophetic- calls to me alone 
 Might give concernment — that this head repos'd 
 Upon Oblivion's turf, no widow'd heart 
 Might heave in wilder agonies; nor they, 
 The orphan'd pledges of our haplefs loves, 
 Whom Fate as yet has fpar'd, defencelefs mourn 
 Their unprovided flate, and infant years 
 Caft on a hoflile world! How welcome then 
 The voice that fammon'd to the infenfete tomb 
 -How pleased obey'd ! — how aided I For to him — 
 Ah! what to him avails the fentient power 
 To whom all fenfe is pain? Who reft of joy — 
 Reft of each folace — reft of all that fed 
 Hope's vital lamp, benighted, droops, appall'd, 
 
Ef. 1. PATERNAL TEARS. 147 
 
 Amid the horrors of fepulchral gloom — 
 A confcious maniac ? — while thought on thought 
 Flows on in fad monotony — and all 
 That in the frame of Nature wont to joy 
 Sight, or the touch, or hearing, feems to blend 
 In funeral lamentation, and recal, 
 With dirgeful record, the afflictive hour 
 Irremeable? And fuch, my friend, am I. 
 For fhe, alas ! is gone, in whom I liv'd — 
 In whom all hope was center'd — whofe fweet fmiles 
 And fair expanding beauties, thro' the night 
 Of my difaftrous deftiny diffus'd 
 A foothing radiance ; with reflective beam 
 Tempering its fombrous horrors. — Oh ! moft like 
 That boreal dawn that oft, in arctic climes, 
 With gay illufive fplendour, gilds the gloom 
 Of the long winter; and falfe hope awakes 
 Of genial funs, and op'ning flow'rs, and fweets 
 Of vernal joyance, from the genial fouth 
 Approaching. — Yet to them^ the Day Jli all come — 
 Tho diftant. O'er their hills of melting fnows, 
 And fudden-blooming plains, the northering tribes 
 Shall fee their Summer God, in gorgeous pomp* 
 Rufh joy-difpenfing, But for me no more 
 Shall dawn the vital Day Star. Spring no more— 
 Nor joyous fummer, in my blighted heart, 
 Shall glow with genial warmth. Tis winter all. 
 Darknefs, and Storm, and ever-during Froft 
 Involve my hopes ; and, in Maria's grave 
 fun is fet for ever : funk — extinct^ 
 
148 PATERNAL TEARS. Eff. 1 
 
 In cold, eternal night. ; Nor ye. who judge 
 A parent's anguifh by the vulgar ties 
 That bound parental paffion , vainly deem 
 My GriePs excefs unmanly: nor infult, 
 With vain Philofophy , the poignant woes 
 That rend the fentient texture of this breaft: 
 For 'tis no vulgar- lofs I'm doom'd to mourn, 
 And with no vulgar feeling ;—nor fueh tears 
 As other fathers fhed o'er other graves 
 
 Shall dew Maria's turf, or eafe this heart, 
 
 Whelm 'd with exhauftlefs forrow. Who would judge 
 My bofom's anguifh, muft have known the worth 
 That wak'd that bofom's fondnefs; muft have known 
 My foftering cares ; like me, with raptur'd eye, 
 Have mark'd each op'ning grace; have feen each germe 
 Of fond tuition, in that grateful foil, 
 Expand with matchlefs promife ; muft have 'felt 
 Afibciation's power, that round the heart 
 (Blending events and feelings — times and things) 
 Twines links of adamant. This — this, and more — 
 They muft have known the father, known the child- 
 Felt her endearments, and have fhar'd my fate. 
 
 And much of this haft thou, O, friend belov'd ! 
 And (he, thy bofom's partner; and the train 
 Fraternal, who, perchance, with tearful eye J 
 And bofoms fadly throbbing, round {hall throng 
 Thy wintry fire, what time, with faltering voice 
 Thou read'ft this fad memorial. Yes, ye knew 
 At once the loft and Iofer. Hence to you, 
 Seeking the balm of fympathy, I ope 
 
Eff. 2. PATERNAL TEARS. 149 
 
 My bofom's inmoft anguifh : in your ear 
 Pour all my griefs;: — and, fearlefs of reproof, 
 Proclaim my weaknefs : — if that name belong 
 To love fo meritted , to tears that flow 
 From fuch remember'd fweetnefs. — O, my babe! 
 Maria! Oh, Maria! thy lov'd name, 
 While Nature yet is vocal — while this heart 
 To this fad tongue can dictate, thy lov'd name 
 The rocks and confcious echoes mall repeat, 
 And murmuring Vaga mourn no lofs but thine. 
 
 EFFUSION II. 
 
 In the Vale of Taff. May 13, 1800. 
 
 Maria ! Oh, Maria ! my fweet babe ! 
 
 But ah ! fhe hears not. Vainly that lov'd name 
 Thefe lips reverberate — vainly thefe fond eyes 
 Roll round, in afking gaze, and, miffing thee, 
 Find nought but vacancy. The budding Spring 
 That, in profufe luxuriancy, adorns 
 Mountain and vale — the ever-murmuring brook, 
 And choir of Nature's fongfters charm no more, 
 Nor foothe my bofom's fadnefs. Thou art gone, 
 Who wert my fpring of comfort — On thy cheek 
 Bloom'd fairer hopes than ever vernal gale 
 Wak'd in the May-tide morning — Purer thou — 
 More fweetly playful, in thy fportive wiles, 
 Than Cambria's dimpling rills. Thy infant voice 
 Than birds was more melodious, when they tune 
 
x 50 PATERNAL TEARS. Eff. 
 
 Their fofteft love notes. Ah, in Nature's (lore 
 Is there aught beauteous — aught that Senfe can prize, 
 Or Fancy hope to feed on, but muft hence 
 Renew my keen affliction ? — Thou art gone ! — 
 And I in vernal fcenes, henceforth, mud trace 
 Nought, but the dire remembrance of thy lofs. — 
 
 EFFUSION III. 
 On the Banks of the Wye. May 15, 1800. 
 
 Along thy varying banks, fequefter'd Wye, 
 At eve, I wander mournfully — full oft 
 Thridding the tangled maze , or under made 
 Of hoary oaks, that over-hang thy fiream. 
 Courting congenial gloom : but not, as erft, 
 Or with the Painter's, or the Poet's glance, 
 Noting thy wild varieties. No more 
 Thy haunts romantic charm. No more mine eyes 
 (Dim with their griefs) from tint or varied line 
 Receive accuftom'd joyance. Rocks, and falls, 
 And deep-worn pools reflective, and ye, woods 
 Wafh'd by the eddying ftrearn, and you, ye hills 
 Of fearful height, in wild perfpeclive heap'd, 
 Goring the finuous valley, what to me 
 Are all your varied forms? — Ah! what die charm 
 Of beauteous or fublime? — the fcenes that nurfe 
 Romantic vifion, or invite the (kill 
 
 Of imitative effort ? Other forms 
 
 PoiTefs my weeping fancy : other thoughts, 
 
Eff. 3. PATERNAL TEARS. 151 
 
 pending the grief-fwoln bofom, vail the eye 
 In dim abftraclion; and my troubled foul, 
 Here while I rove , is abfent ; nor remains 
 Ought but the wandering made of him who erfl 
 Trac'd your wild haunts delighted. To that fpot 
 Where buds the white-thorn o'er the turfted grave 
 
 Turn my fad thoughts there — there inceffant dwell. 
 
 While, with paternal anguifh, oft my lips 
 Breathe thy lov'd name, Maria ! — Oh ! Maria ! 
 Firft born of Love ! and fondling of my heart ! 
 In thee my hopes are blighted — blighted all 
 The varied charms of Nature. All that once, 
 With grace or mingled harmony, could thrill 
 Sight or the lift'ning fenfe, unheeded meets 
 The unconfcious organ ; fave where memory marks 
 Some fond memorial — fome remember'd fcene 
 Of fweet endearment, where reclining erfl 
 (Penfive, perchance, befide the ruffling ftream, 
 That moan'd refponfive) I have heard the voice 
 Of my loft darling, lifping kindlieft notes 
 Of foothing gentlenefs, that from my heart 
 Chac'd every woe ; or where, perchance, her form, 
 Difporting gaily, with attractive charm. 
 Full in my view has bounded : — joy and health 
 
 Blending with graceful lovelinefs. -At fight 
 
 Of fuch mute record, in affli£rive trance, 
 Groaning I paufe : from my dim eyes, fuffus'd, 
 Tears flream afrefh ; and, down the echoing Wye, 
 Woods, waves, and rocks repeat Maria's name. 
 
.152 PATERNAL TEARS. Eff. 4. 
 
 EFFUSION IV. 
 
 During a fevere Indijpofition. May 18, 1800. 
 
 Stretch'd on the bed of pain, reftlefs I lie, 
 Nor tafte the vernal day-fpring. Heavily 
 Pafs the lone hours ; and thro' my wafting nerves 
 The feverifh langour fteals. Yet not for this 
 Heave I the frequent groan — nor not for this 
 Courfe down my wafted cheeks the channeled tears, 
 Dewing the uneafy pillow. Corporal pain, 
 The woe of vulgar minds, with ftoic pride, 
 I well can combat : and there was a time, 
 When never lonefome feem'd the penfive hour 
 Of filent folitude. For then the Mule, 
 On Contemplation's wing, would haply foar 
 Into the realms of Fancy; bodying forth 
 Ideal excellence, and into life, 
 Calling each nobler feeling : or, more bleft, 
 With whifperd voice, mod mufical, would tell 
 Of future hopes (how fpecious) — flattering boons 
 That the paternal heart might well repay 
 For all its years of anguifh. Ah ! how oft 
 In fuch fweet vifion has my raptur'd foul 
 
 Dwelt on thy form, Maria ! Ah ! how oft 
 
 Imag'd thy rip'ning years ; when every hope. 
 That fweetly bloffom'd in thy morn of life, 
 Should bloom in gracious fulnefs — when thy form. 
 More fair expanding, and more beauteous mind 
 (Gcjme of each kindlier virtue !) fliould fecure 
 
Ef. 5. PATERNAL TEARS. 153 
 
 (As did thy fpring-tide promife) joy and love, 
 
 And all the blifsful feelings that refleft: ; 
 
 Back on the worth that wakes them. Ah ! moft blefl 
 
 When thoughts like thefe were prefent ! Pain, and Woe, 
 
 And perfecuting Fortune, loft their power. 
 
 And my torn heart was heal'd. — — But, fhe is gone ! 
 
 The balm of life is gone ; and its fore ills 
 
 Fefter irremeable ! Yet, not thefe I feel : 
 
 Nought but thy lofs is poignant — O ! Maria! — 
 
 My health ! —my joy !— my fortune ! all entomb'd ! 
 
 EFFUSION V. 
 
 In the Vale of Taff, June, 1 800. 
 
 THE Blackbird whittles from the pendant groves 
 That fringe thy varied banks, meandering Taff, 
 And every fpray is vocal. Thro' thy vale 
 Smiles green Fertility; and, on thy heights, 
 Of hoar fublimity, in varied form, 
 Romantic Grandeur fits Each objecV blends 
 (Wild wood, and cultur'd farm, and rocky bank 
 That mocks the hand of Labour) to adorn 
 The vary'd fcene, cheering the lonely way- — 
 If ought could now be cheerful. But in vain ! 
 Mountain nor vale delight, nor cultur'd fcene, 
 Nor Nature's wilder grace. In thefe fad eyes, 
 The vernal year is blafted : from the blight 
 That nipt my budding hopes in thee, Maria! 
 Never to be renew'd. That heavy woe 
 u 
 
1 54 PATERNAL TEARS. £f. 6. 
 
 Hangs, like a cloud, upon my blunted fenfe, 
 That tracing heeds not; but, amid fuch fcenes 
 As once to kindling ecftafy could wake 
 The bounding heart, calls for fepulchral gloom, 
 To my fad thoughts congenial : thofe fad thoughts 
 (Conftant to anguifh) that around thy tomb 
 (O ! beauteous and beloved !) hover ftill, 
 Nor hope for reft — but in fuch reft as thine! 
 
 EFFUSION VI. 
 
 On returning from a Journey to Merthyr Tydfil. 
 June, i 8oo. 
 
 TO my once cheerful home, at evening hour, 
 Sad I return, and weary ; from my brow 
 Wiping the painful fweat-drops, for afar, 
 Over thy heights, Farinioch, I have climb'd, 
 With lonely tread; and, from the blaze of noon, 
 Till now that Hefper rifes, borne the thirft 
 And turmoil of the day. Yet not for this 
 Droop I defpondent, or, with faltering ftep, 
 Paufe on the threfhold of my lonely cot, 
 Checking the ftarting tear. Not this I moan. 
 It is the doom of man with toil to earn, 
 With toil and care, the bread of his fupport; 
 Nor muft I claim exemption ; but fubmit, 
 Outcaft of fortune, to the common lot 
 That Fortune's outcafts bear. Of this let thofe 
 Who lefs have mark'd life's checker'd paths complain : 
 
Eff. 6. PATERNAL TEARS. *55 
 
 Had my poor heart no heavier caufe of woe, 
 
 I would not bend beneath it — but, as erft, 
 
 Smooth from the trouble paft my wrinkled brow, 
 
 And feize the prefent good. But nought is good ! 
 
 This trouble paries not : and Hefper's ray 
 
 In vain conduces to my once-cheerful home : — 
 
 For my once-cheerful home can cheer no more, 
 
 And toil's reward is wanting. Hence, alas ! 
 
 Even on the threshold, faltering, I recline, 
 
 While the heart droops within me. Where is now 
 
 The fhout exulting, that was wont to hail 
 
 My home-returning fteps? Ah ! where thofe eyes, 
 
 Kindling with filial ecftafy ?- — that cheek, 
 
 Flufh'd with ingenuous glow ? thofe outftretch'd arms, 
 
 To which, with holieft rapture, I have rufh'd, 
 
 Bleffing the name of father? Where is fhe— 
 
 My foul's beft darling ! hope of all my hopes ! 
 
 Whofe bofom thrilling with fuch eager joy, 
 
 Wont to rufh forth to meet me ! — Round I turn , 
 
 As my fad heart thus queftions, to the fpot, 
 
 Where, o'er the church yard wall, fad neighbourhood !. 
 
 The white-thorn budding marks thy early grave , 
 
 Maria! Oh! Maria! — There, entranc'd, 
 
 Lingers the tearful gaze; reluctantly 
 
 To the flow latch reverting the flow latch 
 
 That, late uplifted, to mine eye reveals 
 Nought, but the fadnefs of fepulchral gloom L 
 
i5$ PATERNAL TEARS. Eff. 7. 
 
 EFFUSION VIL 
 
 On Stella's leaving me, to Vifit fome Friends, at 
 Hereford, with a View to the Rejloration of her 
 Health. Llys-Wen. June, 1800. 
 
 WELL thou art gone — gone to the City's throng, 
 My foul's fad partner ! mid the generous cares 
 And kind folicitudes of pitying friends 
 To footh thy bofom's anguifh. Be they bleft 
 Who in the woiinds of thy affliction feek * 
 To pour the healing balm ! and may they not 
 The tafk of Love ply vainly. Me, the while, 
 Here mall heart-eating Solitude confume — 
 O'er faddeft thoughts ftill brooding; or afar 
 (Call'd by life's bufy turmoil) over heights 
 Of Alpine drearinefs, my feet fhall climb, - 
 To the once-peaceful vale, where finuous TafT, 
 (Stunn'd by Vulcanian clamour) writhing, fhifts 
 His devious courfe, and feek s for peace in vain. 
 As vainly I. Nor this fequefter'd cot, 
 Mid circling fcenes romantical, embower'd— 
 Once how belov'd ! — nor Taff's remoter Vale, 
 Late, by the magic of Vulcanian art, 
 Grown populous-— nor bufy cares of Life — 
 No — nor the Mufe's fong, in this fad heart 
 Shall ever more its wonted calm renew. 
 Loil is the charm of Life — the treafur'd hope 
 That, o'er our (hipwreck'd fortunes buoyant ftill , 
 Spoth'd our lone boforris. She, alas ! is gone 
 
Eff. 8. PATERNAL TEARS. 157 
 
 In whom (to every other comfort dead) 
 Fondly we hVd, and, in a dream of joy. 
 Dwelt on the blifs-foreboding charms that bloom'd 
 In her all-graceful form, and gracious mind — - 
 Perfection's germe ! — deeming our night of life 
 For fuch entrancing vifion all too fhort. 
 
 EFFUSION VIII. 
 At Merthyr Tydfil. June, 1 800. 
 
 WHY, from imperfect fl umber as I ftart, 
 Shake my jarr'd nerves with terror? Why mould thus 
 The pale reflection of the waterifh moon 
 Gleam with ideal phantoms — bodying forth 
 The fhapes of things that are not ? Bows the mind 
 To fecond infancy ? or cling the tales 
 Of beldame Superftition to the heart, . 
 Scoffing the fceptic Reafon ? Time has been 
 I flept and fear'd not ; and , amidit the gloom 
 Of tombs and fepulchres, could walk 3 unmov'd, 
 At Midnight's darkeft hour. But now the couch 
 Of folitary (lumber fcares my fenfe, 
 Grief-worn and dizzy — dizzy with the whirl 
 Of ever-reftlefs anguifh ! — Fancy leagues 
 With bufy Memory; and the mind, difeas'd, 
 Deems all her Shadowings real. Reafon's boaft 
 Is mine, alas ! no longer. My torn heart 
 Feels, but reflects not ; or, reflecting, dwells 
 J3ut on thy lofs, Maria! and mine eyes, 
 
158 PATERNAL TEARS. Eff. 8. 
 
 But Half unclofing from a dream of thee, 
 
 At my bed's foot flill view thee. — I could think— 
 
 (For Grief, like Fear, its fuperftitions hath, 
 
 That thrill, tho we believe not) — I could think 
 
 Thou ftill didft hover o'er my unbleft couch, 
 
 And haunt my reftlefs pillow : for fometimes 
 
 Thy voice founds plaintive in the midnight gale ; 
 
 Or, in the rufh of waters, on mine ear, 
 
 Steals in articulate moan; or elfe, thy lliade, 
 
 Tranfient and dim, but in proportion'd grace, 
 
 Floats in mine eyes — mine eyes that fondly {train, 
 
 Thro 1 the thick vail of tears, to follow thee, 
 
 And realize illuiion. Such, even now, 
 
 Imagination view'd thy beauteous form, 
 
 Faded and fad. Upon thy cheek no more 
 
 Bloom'd the fweet rofe of Health : but fuch thou feem'ft, 
 
 Pallid and wan, as when upon the bier 
 
 I faw thee ftretch'd, of every grace bereft — 
 
 Save the foft fymmetries, that, even in death, 
 
 Made thee all lovely. Yet not lifelefs now 
 
 Seem'd'ft thou, tho pale : the look , the mournful air 
 
 Was vital; and thine eye's expreffive glance, 
 
 In filent eloquence, upon my face 
 
 Reproachfully thou turned'!! ; but yet fond , 
 
 And full of pitying drops — fuch drops as erft 
 
 (O ! loft benignity !) were wont bedew 
 
 Thy infant cheek, whene'er Affliftion met 
 
 (Maid of ingenuous mind!) thy fentient glance. 
 
 Ah ! fuch thou feem'ft ! — and Fancy, full of thee — 
 Fancy, that coins thy femblance, to my mind, 
 
Eff. 9- PATERNAL TEARS. 159 
 
 The woeful look interprets — " Wretched fire ! 
 
 " O'erwhelm'd with cares and forrows ! while thou ftriv'd'ft 
 
 " With thy hard Deftiny, with carking toil, 
 
 u Solicitous, to fnatch thy fcanty means 
 
 " From prowling Plunder, or the inclement rage 
 
 " Of an ungenial feafon, unobferv'd, 
 
 " Upon the vitals of thy deareft hope 
 
 " Seiz'd the unbaffled pefl ; and treafuring that 
 
 " Thy foul fo little values, thou haft loft 
 
 " All that thou deem'd'ft worth treafuring." 
 
 Ah ! moft true ! 
 Thou , my fweet babe ! art to my hoftile ftars 
 Another facrifice — another fine 
 (Heavier than all the paft) that I have paid 
 For love of human nature — for the crime 
 Of univerfal brotherhood, that, thus, 
 Dooms me, in exile from the focial fphere 
 Of humaniz'd fraternity, to weep 
 Thy early lofs — in whom myfelf am loft. 
 
 EFFUSION IX. 
 
 After having f pent a Part of the preceding Day in cheer* 
 ful Society. Llys-Wen. Sept. 14, 1800. 
 
 Transient, alas ! and faint, what cheerful gleams 
 Relieve my bofom's fadnefs — whether, bent 
 On ftudious thought, I range thy lonely haunts, 
 Sequefter'd Vaga, or explore the page 
 Of ancient Wifdom. or, perchance, infpir'd 
 
160 PATERNAL TEARS. Eff. 9. 
 
 With love of facrcd Freedom, yet unquench'd, 
 I " build the lofty rhyme," and twine the wreath 
 Of civic virtue, for the honour'd brow 
 Of Albion's earlieft Hope — or if, impell'd 
 By hard neceffity, with careful hand 
 (To toil of late accuftom'd) from the womb, 
 Scant and ungenial, of an alien foil 
 I force relu&ant fuftenance, — alike 
 O'er every feafon — every changeful fcene 
 Of various deftiny, intrufive Woe 
 Hovers with baleful gloom ; — Remembrance ftiil 
 Dwells en Maria loft ; and Fancy's felf 
 (No more, alas! creative) but renews 
 That dire affliction — but renews the thought 
 Of Thee, ingenuous maiden! early fnatch'd 
 From my paternal hopes, while yet the bloOm 
 Of fweet attraction on thy infant cheek 
 Promis'd long-during blifs. Or if perchance, 
 To this fequefler'd folitude (tho rare) 
 Journeying from far, fome fympathizing friend , 
 Cordial, approach, and of the times long paft 
 (Times not eftrang'd to foetal intercourfe) 
 Renew the loft memorial, ftill my heart, 
 To other thoughts incontinent, amid 
 The flow of mutual converfe, fad renews 
 This woe of woes, and the unbidden tear, 
 Or figh fpontaneous, mars the focial grace 
 Of hofpitable welcome. Jeft and Smile 
 Are but abortions of the labouring brain, 
 That would have eafe, but cannot ; or, at beft, 
 
Ef. 10. PATERNAL TEARS. 161 
 
 Delufive refpites from the fcourge of thought, 
 That foon returns more poignant. Sleep herfelf, 
 To my fad couch coy vifitant ! if chance 
 She fteep my temples in her opiate dews, 
 Brings not the wifli'd oblivion. Still, in dreams, 
 Renew'd affliction haunts me. Still, in dreams, 
 Rifes thy beauteous form, Oh ! beft belov'd! 
 To mock with faint illufion ; and, the while 
 My yearning heart throbs with a parent's love, 
 I fee Thee fink expiring — fee renew'd 
 The writhing pang that, in an inftant, chang'd 
 Thy bloom to ghaftly palenefs ; in thefe arms 
 Leaving a wither 'd flow'r a breathlefs corfe ! 
 
 EFFUSION X. CERRIG-ENION: 
 
 (Enion's Tomb) on Pen-Heol-Enion, in Brecknock/hire. 
 Auguft, 1 800. 
 
 WHY, on the mouldering tomb of other Times, 
 Sits my lorn wanderer, in the muffled robe, 
 Vailing her penfive brow, and to the winds 
 Giving, on fuch bleak height, the unfhelter'd form 
 Of feminine foftnefs ! Broods her thoughtful mind 
 Some legendary fiction ? or fome tale 
 Of Tragic record, pregnant with the woes 
 Of virtue vainly brave ? Or does fhe mourn 
 Time's changeful progrefs, thro' thefe defolate Realms 
 'Too fadly mark'd ? — where oft the enquiring eye 
 (Seeking the ancient fite of rampir'd wall, 
 X 
 
162 PATERNAL TEARS. Eff. 10. 
 
 Or bourg, or populous city) meets, perchance, 
 
 Nought but the brambled foffe, fome mofs-grown heap 
 
 Of fhapelefs fragments, or fome lonely hut, 
 
 Turf-built, and thatch'd with fern, or with the wrecks 
 
 Of proftrate palaces, now rudely heap'd, 
 
 Without cement, or order, to eflroof 
 
 The toil-worn peafant, fhivering in the blaft 
 
 That winnows thro' the walls!— or worfe, perchance, 
 
 Sees the rent fragments of thofe wretched hives 
 
 Forlorn, and tenantlefs ; while all around 
 
 Stalks filent Defolation, unobferv'd, 
 
 Save by the felon Kite, who, pois'd aloof, 
 
 Watches his quarry'd prey, and makes the Air, 
 
 Like the fcourg'd Earth , depopulate ! Such fcenes 
 
 Well might the wanderer mourn: and I, with her, 
 
 (Making thy tomb — Enion of Cambrian fame ! 
 
 My thoughtful couch) full many a dreary hour 
 
 Could fit and moralize : but that my heart 
 
 (My heart, alas ! like hers — for but two well 
 
 Fancy can paint her mufings) furrowing dwells 
 
 On pangs of home-felt fufferance — Woes that bend 
 
 Our hearts, united in one common grief, 
 
 Down to the earth they fprung from ! — woes that blot 
 
 The half of Nature's glories (thro' the vail 
 
 Of fadnefs dimly feen) and dull the edge 
 
 Of curious obfervation. Hence while here, 
 
 With rude memorial, my unpraftis'd hand 
 
 Traces the Time-worn fragment, that ftill marLv 
 
 The Chieftain's grave, who, on this lonely height, 
 
 Slumbers (in death ftill emulous) her thoughts 
 
Eff. 10. PATERNAL TEARS. 163 
 
 Flee to the lowly vale, where, underneath 
 The turf, unhonour'd, fave by frequent tears, 
 And ever-hovering memory, She, beloved ! 
 Our loft Maria fleeps. Oh ! lofs fupreme ! 
 Never to be forgotten ! — whether thus 
 We climb the dreary height, or trace the fcenes 
 Of fmooth fertility, where Culture fpreads 
 Luxuriant, and the careful walks of Men 
 Chace the (till Solitude ! — Thee, budding flower ! 
 Cropp'd in thy fweeteft promife — Thee, the fields. 
 The groves, the wood-land wild, or dreary heath, 
 The peaky Mountain, and the (helter'd vale, 
 Alike fhall mourn! — Alike, the village fpire, 
 The fern-thatch'd cottage, and the crumbling heap 
 That ftories ancient prowefs fhall renew 
 The fad remembrance, echoing to our fighs, 
 The mournful raufic of Maria's name. 
 
[ 1*4 ] 
 
 On being importuned, by a Lady, at BiRMiNGHAM,ybr 
 a Song of my own compofmg. May 15, 1800. 
 
 IN Youth's vernal feafon, Hope's dawn brightly glowing, 
 To each objecl around fome new beauty bellowing, 
 Awak'd in my bofom Love's delicate thrill. — Oh ! 
 I twin'd the gay myrtle, nor dreamt of the willow. 
 
 To the maid of my heart my fond vows then repeating 3 
 Her heart to my vows, in fweet fympathy, beating, 
 We join'd in the fong oft by bower, or by rill, — r Oh ! 
 We pluck'd the fweet rofe, nor e'er dreamt of the willow. 
 
 But Time, on all blifs that remorfelefs encroaches, 
 Has clouded my noon, and my twilight approaches- 
 Of many a woe I have felt the keen thrill. — Oh ! 
 My voice is untun'd, and my harp on the willow ! 
 
 In exile I wander, from friendfhips cjivided; 
 Ingratitude's fhaft thro' my bofom has grided ; 
 And, while lonely I loiter by grove or by rill — Oh! 
 My love is far off, and my harp on the willow ! 
 
 Farewell ye gay firains, then, ye hopes brightly glowing! 
 To the fcenes of my youth once fuch beauty bellowing. 
 My fancy no more with fuch vjfions mufl thrill. — Oh ! 
 The rofe and the myrtle are chang'd for the willow* 
 
C 165 ] 
 
 INVOCATION TO HEALTH. 
 
 Ah! where, ruftic maiden! of hamlets the pride — 
 What heath doll: thou rove ? on what mountain refide ? 
 Doft thou follow fome fheep track, and bound up the hill? 
 Or wander, fedate, by the murmuring rill ? 
 Thee, Health! I invoke; and, thy foot-marks to find , 
 Give my brow to the fun, and my locks to the wind. 
 
 Then come, ruftic maiden, whom anxious I woo, 
 In thy beauty appear, and my tranfports renew; 
 The balm of thy fmiles o'er my fenfes diftill, 
 And wake in my bofom thy exquifite thrill : 
 For Joy in thy loofe-flowing vail is enfhrin'd 
 And fports in thy locks, as they float on the wind. 
 
 But her carol is heard. Hark ! in raptures how fhrill , 
 It burfts on mine ear from the brow of yon hill. 
 See, fee, with light ftep, me defcends from the rock, 
 Where fhe fou't the young kid that had ftrayd from the flock: 
 Of the wild thyme it brows'd, fhe a gailand has twin'd, 
 Whence her hair, half unbraided, floats loofe on the wind. 
 
 More bright is her hue than the brightnefs of dawn, 
 And the rofe on her cheek than the rofe of the thorn ; 
 The blue-bell,, befprinkled with dew, cannot vie 
 With the luftre that beams from her love-darting eye ; 
 And fweeter her breath than the wreath fhe has twin'd, 
 Whence her hair, half unbraided^ floats loofe on the wind. 
 
166 INVOCATION TO HEALTH. 
 
 Cheerly fmiling her mouth, as when firft the young bloom, 
 From lips tipt with orient, emit their perfume ; 
 When thy vintage, Siluria, firft germs on thy trees, 
 And we quaff the rich ne&ar in every breeze. 
 So hopeful her fmile, from the wreath fhe has twin 'd, 
 While her hair, half unbraided, floats loofe on the wind. 
 
 And fee, as fhe brufhes thro' woodland and brake, 
 New fragrance burfts forth, and new beauties awake, 
 Groves fpread forth their branches their homage to pay, 
 The buds are more fweet, and the foliage more gay, 
 As emulous all in frefh wreaths to be twin'd, 
 Whence her hair, half-unbraided, may float on the wind. 
 
 The vales too rejoice. Hark ! they join in the fong, 
 As (he bounds from the copfe, and comes tripping along; 
 Peeping forth from their fod, cups and dairies are feen, 
 And the grafs, late fo grey, is all vital with green : 
 Flowers burft from each hedgerow, in wreaths to be twin'd, 
 Or to fport in her locks, as they float on the wind. 
 
 Yes, this is the miftrefs, my Stella, I woo : 
 
 Yet no miftrefs for me, if not handmaid to you. 
 
 If my bofom to warm with frefh rapture fhe feek, 
 
 She muft pencil thofe eyes, fhe muft vermeil that cheek , 
 
 With her wreath of wild flow'rs fhe thofe temples muft bind, 
 
 And fport in thofe locks, as they float on the wind. 
 
 Come then, my lov'd partner I fit penfive no more, 
 For Mai invites, and ftern Winter is o'er : 
 
THE ORPHAN BOY, 167 
 
 Let us ftray thro' the woodlands, and climb the green hill, 
 From the Lark's early note to the Nightingale's trill. 
 Come— feek the fweet handmaid, where'er we may find, 
 And give all your cares^ with your locks, to the wind. 
 
 THE ORPHAN BOY. 
 
 [The following ELEGIAC BALLAD originated in a trifling 
 incident, which spontaneously suggested the burthen, and the burthen 
 of the Story. The Ballad itself may be considered as extemporary ; 
 having been composed during a walk to Worcester, while the Work it 
 accompanies was preparing for the Press, 
 
 The Author was not a little surprised to find, upon comparison, 
 how nearly, in the outline, it resembles a beautiful little Tale al- 
 ready before the Public. During the time of composition, he was 
 neither conscious of imitation nor of competition ; but as he had cer- 
 tainly read Mrs. Opie's " Orphan Roy," when it first made its ap- 
 pearance, he is willing to be b< forehand with the Reader, in acknow- 
 ledging all the Obligation he can possibly have thence derived."] 
 
 ALAS! I am an Orphan Boy, 
 
 With nought on earth to cheer my heart : 
 No father's love, no mother's joy, 
 
 Nor kin, nor kind, to take my part. 
 My lodging is the cold, cold ground ; 
 
 I eat the bread of charity , 
 And when the kifs of love goes round, 
 
 There is no kifs, alas f for nve. 
 
i68 THE ORPHAN BOY. 
 
 Yet once I had a father dear, 
 
 A mother too, I wont to prize, 
 With ready hand to wipe the tear, - 
 
 If chanc'd a tranfient tear to rife. 
 But caufe of tears was rarely found ; 
 
 For all my heart was youthful glee : 
 And, when the kifs of love went round, 
 
 How fweet a kifs there was for me ! 
 
 But, ah ! there came a War, they fay. 
 
 What is a War I cannot tell ; 
 But drums and fifes did fweetly play, 
 
 And loudly rang our village bell. 
 In troth, it was a pretty found 
 
 I thought : nor could I thence forefee 
 That, when the kifs of love went round, 
 
 There foon mould be no kifs for me. 
 
 A fcarlet coat my father took. 
 
 And fword as bright as bright could be ; 
 And feathers, that fo gayly look, 
 
 All in a mining cap had he. 
 Then how my little heart did bound : 
 
 Alas ! I thought it fine to fee ; 
 Nor dreamt that, when the kifs went round, 
 
 There foon fhould be no kifs for me. 
 
 My mother figh'd, my mother wept. 
 
 My father talk'd of wealth and fame : 
 But ftill (lie wept, and figh'd, and wept; 
 
 Till I, to fee her, wept the fame. 
 
THE ORPHAN BOY. 169 
 
 But fooii the horfemen throng around : 
 My father mounts, with fhout and glee : 
 
 Then, gave a kifs to all around ; 
 And, ah ! how fweet a kifs to me ! 
 
 But, when I found he rode fo far, 
 
 And came not home as heretofore ; 
 I faid it was a naughty war, 
 
 And lov'd the drum and fife no more. 
 My mother oft in tears was drown'd ; 
 
 Nor merry tale, nor fong had fhe; 
 And, when the hour of night came round 5 
 
 Sad was the kifs fhe gave to me. 
 
 At length the bell again did ring ; 
 
 There was a victory, they faid. 
 'Tvyas what my father faid he'd bring 1 
 
 But ah ! it brought my father dead. 
 My mother fhriek'd: her heart was woe : 
 
 She clafp'd me to her trembling knee. 
 O, God! that you may never know 
 
 How wild a kifs fhe gave to me. 
 
 But once again — but once again, 
 
 Thefe lips a mother's kiffes felt. 
 That once again— that once again — - 
 
 The tale a heart of (tone would melt. 
 'Twas when, upon her death-bed laid, — 
 
 (Oh, God ! oh, God ! that fight to fee ! 
 u My child ! — my child !" (he feebly faid, 
 
 And gave a parting kifs to me. 
 Y 
 
170 AMATORY 
 
 So now I am an Orphan Boy, 
 
 With nought below my heart to cheer : 
 No mother's love, no father's joy, 
 
 Nor kin, nor kind, to wipe the tear. 
 My lodging is the cold, cold ground; 
 
 I eat the bread of charity ; 
 And, when the kifs of love goes round, 
 
 There is no kifs of love for me. 
 
 But I will to the grave and weep. 
 
 Where late they laid my mother low. 
 And buried her, with earth fo deep, 
 
 All in her fhroud as white as fnow. 
 And there, I'll call on her, fo loud, 
 
 All underneath the church-yard tree, 
 To wrapt me in her fnow- white fhroud ; 
 
 For thofe cold lips are dear to me. 
 
 Amatory Sonnet. 
 (The Idea from a Line in Shakefpear.) 
 
 "HIDE, oh! hide thofe hills of fnow," 
 O'er which thofe funny fmiles, in vain. 
 
 Dazzling fhine, but ne'erbeftow 
 Vital warmth, to cheer the fwain. 
 
 With myfterious pangs they kill, 
 
 Burning from excefs of chill. 
 
 Vail, Oh ! vail thofe funny fmiles, 
 Which that bofom cannot melt : 
 
 Phofphor like, their chilly wiles 
 Kindle fires they never felt : 
 
SONNETS. 
 
 Lights — that, in the northern fkies, 
 Promife funs that never rife. 
 
 Yet thofe hills of breathing fnow, 
 Yet thofe funny fmiles, fo fweet! 
 
 Could they feel what they beftow, 
 Kindling touch of vital heat , 
 
 Lapland nights themfelves would prove 
 
 All too fhort to tell my love. 
 
 Another. 
 
 Bofom white as Alpine fnow, 
 And, like Alpine fnow, as cold, 
 
 O'er which the carelefs treffes flow— - 
 Treffes fpun of paleft gold : 
 
 Like the threaded beams of light, 
 
 That reft on peaky fummits white. 
 
 Snowy heights, for ever cold, 
 Tho the fun appears fo nigh, 
 
 Far below which men behold 
 Panting beneath the fervid (ley ! 
 
 So thofe treffes, maid divine! 
 
 Kindle every heart, but thine. 
 
 O'er thy forehead, o'er thy cheek 
 While thofe morn-like treffes fpread, 
 
 Ah ! what crimfon blufhes break ! 
 And is no warmth beneath that red? 
 
 Oh ! icy maid of glowing mien ! 
 
 Amid the pangs you caufe ferene. 
 
 171 
 
17 2 THE FALL OF EGYPT. 
 
 But, if thus, by Nature's law, 
 Suns by diftance only burn, 
 
 Hence, away with timid awe : 
 Nature's leffon let me learn. 
 
 Let me to thofe heights afpire — 
 
 Bafk in the ray, nor feel the fire ! 
 
 THE FALL OF EGYPT; 
 
 Or, Extinction of the Ptolomies. 
 AN ODE. 
 
 EGYPT is fall'n. Behold! behold 
 
 The full accomplifhment of woes ! 
 Wide-wafting Ruin, uncontroul'd, 
 
 The refuge of the Gods o'erthrows. 
 From the fwoln wrath of Heav'n has burft 
 Of aii the word of ills the worft. 
 
 Hope— even Hope herfelf, is fled— - 
 The hope, that ever fweet Repofe 
 
 O'er the land again fhould fpread 
 Her balm-diftilling wing, our griefs to clofe, 
 Or Memphis lift, again, her confecrated head. 
 
 Mad Ambition's awlefs hand 
 
 Hurls around the flaming brand ; 
 
 And, reeklefs, o'er the groaning ground. 
 
 Fell Defolation (lalks around. 
 
THE FALL OF EGYPT. 1 73 
 
 O ! facred Nilus ! awful flream ! 
 
 Thou father of prolific floods ! — 
 Whofe head adoring mortals deem 
 
 Loft in the regions of the Gods ! 
 And fhall thy torrents fubje£t glide 
 To, yellow Tiber's fandy tide? 
 
 Back, back, to their myfterious fource, 
 Your refluent floods, indignant, call! 
 
 Ye Rocks ! reftrain their downward courfe; 
 And you , ye headlong Cataracls ! ceafe to fall : 
 Back to your fountains flee, and change your thundering 
 
 O'er fandy defarts, drear and dead, [courfe. 
 
 Your fertilizing waters fpread: — 
 
 There, there, in unknown deluge, burft, 
 
 And fatiate their eternal thirft. 
 
 Soon, o'er thofe tracklefs realms of death, 
 
 The living green fhall, wondering, rife; 
 Where never flow'd the quick'ning breath, 
 
 Shall choral Riot cleave the fkies ; 
 While fome new pamper'd race (like ours) 
 The bounties of thy Urn devours, 
 
 Till, drunk with Plenty's baneful ftore, 
 Enfeebling Luxury, at laft, 
 
 To fome new fpoiler gives them o'er, 
 Oppreft with. woes prepar'd by bleffings paft; 
 And thy new turrets bow, as Memphis bow'd before. 
 
 Meantime let proftrate Egypt lie 
 
 A barren conqueft, wafte, and dry; 
 
 And channels parch'd, and plains aduft, 
 
 Repay the Victor's greedy lull. 
 
174 THE FALL OF EGYPT. 
 
 But fee — The vifion'd Vengeance glares ! 
 
 I pierce the myftic womb of Fate , 
 Where Time, the embrion doom prepares, 
 
 That foon mall whelm the tyrant itate. 
 Deftru&ion hovers o'er the walls. 
 She falls !— " The viaim Viaor falls !" 
 
 Alike, to fuch predeftin'd fate 
 Shall each fucceflive Empire prefs : 
 
 Hurl'd — hurl'd to mifery's loweft flate 
 With weight of their o'er-profperous wantonnefs : 
 By Triumph's felf fubdu'd, and crufh'd by Fortune's 
 
 For fuch are Pride's eternal bars, [weight. 
 
 That Greatnefs felf its greatnefs mars ; 
 
 And, driv'n, by favouring gales, uncheck'd, 
 
 On rocks of its own might 'tis wreck'd. 
 
 (Kf» For the first rough outline of this Ode, see the final 
 Chorus, in Daniel's " Tragedy of Cleopatra." 
 
 I ought, also, to have acknowledged, that, the fourth, 
 sixth, and seventh Stanzas, of the" Invocation to Health," 
 were principally suggested, by a beautiful specimen of 
 ancient alliterative metre, quoted in the third Volume of 
 * c Percy's Reliques." 
 
^>puimtm of 
 THE 
 
 HOPE OF ALBION 
 
 3 
 
 OR, 
 
 Edwin of Northambria, 
 
 AN 
 
OF THIS POEM, the Author proposed to have published the 
 First and Second Books, entire. But, while he was giving, as 
 lie imagined, a last revision, before they were committed to the 
 Printer, he became so far dissatisfied with a part of the First Booh, 
 that, after a variety of experiments and corrections, he was convinced 
 that nothing less than absolutely writing the object onable portion 
 anew, could do justice, either to. ■ the public, or to himself. Such 
 an undertaking required more leisure, and calm consideration y than 
 could be reconciled with the laborious duty of superintending the press. 
 In the mean time, the Subscribers are importunate, and the publica- 
 tion cannot conveniently be delayed. — To the printing of detached 
 passages, however, there are several objections. It might appear 
 to the Reader, that the Author had artfully made such selections, in 
 order to give a partial impression ; while, on the contrary, it has 
 been the decided opinion of those literary friends, who have seen the 
 Work, that the impression that could be thus produced, must neces* 
 sarily be disadvantageous, and that it is only in the mass that his 
 Poem can have any chance of fair appreciation. Some whole book, 
 therefore, it seemed necessary to publish. As the Author flatters 
 himself, that he has continued to rise as he proceeded, it would, per- 
 haps, have been most to his interest to select the fifth Book, as con- 
 taining more of business, of passion, of imagination, and variety, 
 than any of the preceding ; but besides that it is much too 
 long to be detached as a mere specimen, he believes it not to be so 
 well calculated to give the Reader a fair and general view of the plan 
 and object of his Poem ; and, consequently, that he deals with more 
 fairness to others— tho, perhaps, with less advantage to himself, by 
 presenting what is here selected. — Had the two I$ooks been printed, 
 the author would have given them a detached form ; that they might 
 bind up with the succeeding po?iions, when published, without necessi- 
 tating the Subscriber to a repurchase : but, under present circumstances, 
 this is scarcely practicable ; and,- as the Author has not been sparing of 
 his matter f scattering, according to modern custom, a stanza of eight 
 lines through a page of expensive paper ) he hopes to be excused for con- 
 sidering this portion of his work, as a sort of subjoined advertisement ; 
 having saved the space it occupies (he trusts without deforming his 
 pages J by the manner in which he has printed the preceding sheets. 
 
[ ^11 ] 
 
 THE HOPE OP ALBION. 
 
 FOR the General Argument of this Poem, the Reader is re- 
 ferred to Hume's History of England, Chap. I. Title " Hep- 
 "tarchy," Section "The Kingdom of Northumberland :" 
 where he will find sufficient, it is presumed, to excite some 
 interest in behalf of the hero, and of the fable. If he is 
 desirous of further particulars, the Author must refer him to 
 Rapine, Warrington's History of Wales, and the Old Chro- 
 niclers ; in almost all of whom some scattered facts will be 
 found. When the Poem is published, in its collective form, 
 the sources of historical assistance will be more 'particularly 
 developed. 
 
 ARGUMENT OF THE FIRST BOOK. 
 
 SUBJECT proposed — The emancipation of Northumbria, 
 by Edwin, the exiled prince of Dei'ria, and consequent esta- 
 blishment of English liberty, and the Christian faith. Invo- 
 cation to the tutelary Angel of Patriotism, and to those who 
 superintend the social sympathies. — Edwin (having found re- 
 fuge in the Court of E. Anglia) while indulging, in lonely me- 
 ditation, on the banks of the Yare, his passion for the mysteri- 
 ous Emma, is interrupted by the Ghost of Albert, his former 
 Tutor and preserver; who warns him, in mysterious language, 
 of the machinations formed for his destruction. At the same 
 time, he apprizes him, that the approaching hour is the crisis 
 of his Fate; when, resign'd by the Chastening Angel to 
 the trial of his own proper virtue, his election, to the high 
 mission, for which his mind has been disciplined, must de- 
 pend entirely upon himself. He then relates the circumstances 
 of his own assasination by the Courtiers of Redowald ; but 
 trespassing upon his bounds of mission, he is suddenly called 
 away by Ahimoth (the Brother of Death) or Angel who con- 
 trouls the wandering spirits of the dead. Edwin, after be- 
 wailing the fate of his foster-father, returns to the palace, at 
 z 
 
[ 178 ] 
 
 Castor, formerly the capital of the Iceni, and now of East 
 Anglia ; where he finds the Hall crouded by the Ambassadors 
 of the Northumbrian Tyrant. 
 
 Of this book, the Proposition, Invocation, and Introduction 
 of the subject, are all that are here presented. 
 
 ARGUMENT OF THE SECOND BOOK. 
 
 The corruption of the East Anglian Courtiers ; and their 
 hatred to Edwin, arising out of the amiable Character of 
 that Prince. Redowald, having dismissed, unheard, three 
 previous Embassies, sent to induce him to deliver up Edwin, 
 the present Ambassadors are impowered to denounce the de- 
 cisive alternative of War or Alliance. At the same time, the 
 Fallen Angels, worshipped under the symbols of Saxon Dei- 
 ties, commission Meribah, the Angel of Discord, one of the 
 Valkyries, or Ministers of Woden, with a train of subordi- 
 nate Furies, to accompany the Embassy, and promote its ob- 
 ject. The E. Anglian Courtiers endeavour to influence Redo- 
 wald to listen to the proposals : and Hermanric and Ossa, the 
 chiefs of the Embassy, in a nocturnal carousal, practice every 
 artifice to bring over the Anglian nobles to their interest. 
 When the morning arrives, they amuse the populace with a 
 pompous procession ; and, by the display of spoils taken from 
 the Britons, and other inflammatory artifices, excite great 
 commotions. They are assisted by the Demons, who, 
 assuming human forms, mingle with the croud, and kindle 
 their national animosities and rage for war. Meribah, her- 
 self, assuming the voice and gesture of Beornulph, still fur- 
 ther excites and directs their animosities against the person 
 of Edwin. The deluded populace surround the Palace, 
 with seditious clamours, shouting for Alliance with Adelfrid, 
 and a Cambrian War. 
 
 The action of these two Books is comprised within the space 
 of less than twenty-four hours — from the twilight of the 
 first, to the middle of the second day. 
 
THE HOPE OF ALBION. 
 
 BOOK THE FIRST. 
 
 NORTHUMBRIA freed, and Edwin's patriot worth 
 My verfe records; his wanderings, and his woes, 
 His martial ardour, and his faithful loves: 
 How thefe, by powerful deftiny, combin'd 
 To form The Hero ; who by virtue rofe 5 
 
 Superior to the fratricidal rage 
 That fought his life, infatiate, and his youth 
 Doom'd to difaftrous exile ; till arous'd 
 To final effort, he their traitorous wiles 
 Turn'd on the traitors' heads ; and, from the ftnfe 
 Of feuds and deadly factions, haply wrought 
 A nation's blifs : whence union, wifdom, power, 
 Spread thro' The Seven-fold Ifle ; and cheering lights 
 Of Holy Truth and Liberty, and Laws. 
 
 10 
 
180 THE HOPE OF ALBION. 
 
 SPIRIT DIVINE! by whatfoever name 15 
 
 (Sacred, or claffic) thou delight'ft to hear 
 The votive falutation, O ! attend , 
 From thofe empyreal regions where thou fitt'ft, 
 Among the miniftering feraphim enthron'd 
 Who guard our fea-girt realm; and, by the fide 20 
 Of Albion , awful in cerulean robe , 
 Shar'ft (from primeval time) the truft conferr'd 
 Of heav'nly tutelage; with helmed brow 
 And miffile thunder, from the horrent fhores 
 Chacing invafive Ravage; or the bread 25 
 
 Of mifhon'd Patriot with fublimeft rage , 
 In perilous hour, infpiring, to confound 
 Inborn Oppreffion, with triumphant arm, 
 Or martyrdom more glorious. Thee I call, 
 That, in the wrong'd Northumbrian's dauntlefs foul 30 
 Breathing ethereal energy, inform'd 
 His mind to worth and wifdom ; fuch as ne'er 
 Beam'd in his darker age ; nor ever warm'd 
 Chieftain, or fage, or hero of this ifle, 
 Anglian or Britifh, till, in after times, 35 
 
 Ina and Alfred in his godlike fteps 
 Trod reverent; and, by his example nYd, 
 Tower'd to immortal fame. O ! then , defcend, 
 Seraphic ardour! from thy ftarry throne — 
 My theme's appropriate patron ! — As to thee 40 
 
 Belongs The Hero, fo infpire The Song. 
 
 Nor You, ye plaflic powers ! that, round the hearts 
 Of youthful lovers, weave the myflic web 
 Of facred Sympathy nor YE difdain 
 
THE HOPE OF ALBION. 181 
 
 To fhed your fofter influence. Haply, fo, 45 
 
 The trump fonorous, and the melting flute 
 
 Shall breathe alternate ftrains, and love, and war— 
 
 The focial feeling, and the public care, 
 
 Each in appropriate numbers, fway the heart. 
 
 NOW fince Deirian Acca, bath'd in blood 50 
 
 Of holy patriots, with her tyrant lord, 
 Bernicia's warlike chief, not lefs by crimes 
 Than nuptial vows united, o'er the realm 
 Of joint Northumbria (in like fufFerance join'd — 
 In groans, and equal bondage) wielded firft 55 
 
 Their iron fceptre, many a fickening fun 
 Had to decrepit Winter's ruthlefs fway 
 Yielded our northering zone; while, fierce of foul, 
 Collected in his empire's double ftrength, 
 And form'd for martial enterprife, the chief 60 
 
 Led forth his veteran bands to many a field 
 Of blood-ftain'd triumph, and enlarg'd his bounds 
 With vanquifh'd vafTalage. So flood the throne — 
 Powerful in wrongs, and terrible in arms, 
 And (book the circling ftates; while Tyranny 65 
 
 Tower'd to prefcriptive right ; as tho fecure 
 In tacit confirmation : if fecure 
 Pow'r could be deem'd, or Domination ftand, 
 Unpropt of Juftice. But the fenfe of guilt 
 Intrudes, unceafing; and the injurious pair, 70 
 
 Palfied with confcious terrors, inly pine, 
 Brooding ftrange thoughts, with jealous frenzy big, 
 And murderous precaution. But, o'er all, 
 Their guilty terrors, and fierce hate purfue 
 
182 THE HOPE OF ALBION. 
 
 An exil'd brother, from Dei'ria's throne 75 
 
 Expell'd by treafon ; and by treafon doom'd 
 
 To infant maffacre : but doom'd in vain : • 
 
 In vain had Bebba's towers (in riper years) 
 
 Enclos'd the fhipwreck'd wanderer — preferv'd 
 
 By Chance, or favouring Providence, to thorn 80 
 
 Oppreffion's couch with terrors — or to hurl 
 
 (Such vifions mar their {lumbers) on their heads 
 
 The bolts of retribution. HE, the while, 
 
 Efcap'd from countlefs fnares, thro' toils unheard 
 
 And many a fearful conflict, unappall'd, 85 
 
 Obfervant rov'd, thro' many an adverfe realm , 
 
 Hoftile or kindred — where Digan way's tow'rs 
 
 O'erlook blue Conway, and the headlong ftreams 
 
 Water the Cambrian Vallies! or where, flow, 
 
 With filver lapfe, the Anglian rivers pour 90 
 
 Their fouthern tribute; or, impell'd by Fate, 
 
 Athwart the Scythian Vale, where Erin's chiefs, 
 
 From bogs, and lakes, and mountains, their rough clans, 
 
 Martial, collect, and, over wicker towns, 
 
 And hurdled cots, hold a precarious fway. 95 
 
 So roam'd The Hero: fuch his joylefs youth : 
 His early manhood fuch: wherever thrown, 
 In every region — every foil and clime — 
 In every fcene, with unremitting ills 
 Hemm'd and purfu'd: in dangers, and in woes. 100 
 
 Say then (Ethereal Patron of my Song! — 
 My foul's bed guide!) for what myfterious end 
 His worth, unilaid by interpofmg Heav'n, 
 Thus mourn'd difaftrous P For a nation's weal — 
 
THE HOPE OF ALBION. 1B3 
 
 For Albion's glory; yet in barbarous gloom 105 
 
 Involv'd, and favage violence, and wrongs — 
 
 Unknown to arts and polity — till he 
 
 (Sage from well-during fufferance) fhall arife — 
 
 Freedom's firft prototype: the firft to found 
 
 The facred dome of Juftice. Thence his youth 110 
 
 And fpring of early manhood, unfuftain'd 
 
 By prop or miniftry (fave one weak old man — 
 
 His fometime guardian,) bends beneath the wrath 
 
 Of adverfe Deftiny: what time his mind, 
 
 School'd by The Chaftening Seraph, fpreads, enlarg'd 
 
 In wifdom as in virtue; and attains 
 
 Ingenuous fortitude: alternate taught 
 
 To pity and to dare. But now, awhile,— 
 
 As tho fome kindly power, from aftral heights 
 
 Beam'd brief benignity , his wearied worth 1 20 
 
 In Redowald's court refpires. Red'wald the good — 
 
 Might goodnefs without fortitude refide 
 
 In human bofom. He the Eaft-Anglian throne 
 
 Fill'd with a patriot's wifh ; and many a plan 
 
 Of wifdom and beneficence devis'd 125 
 
 In meditation's hour: but his weak grafp 
 
 Pois'd not the fceptre's weight — on favourites oft 
 
 Or female hands devolv'd. Such was the chief 
 
 To whom (fmce now twelve chang'ling moons had fill'd 
 
 Their horns, as oft retiring) ^Ella's Son 130 
 
 Had fled for refuge, that no roof befide 
 
 Nor Earth, nor Ocean, nor the cavern's depth 9 
 
 Might to his forrows yield. ****** 
 
THE 
 
 HOPE OF ALBION. 
 
 BOOK THE SECOND. 
 
 MEANTIME, Northumbria's heralds, in the hall 
 Not unregarded wait. The fame, foon fpread, 
 Of pomps and royal prefents round them draw 
 The courtly tribe — not hopelefs to partake. 
 
 Nor lack they difpofition to the caufe, 5 
 
 Or enmity to Edwin. Ill they brook 
 His influence, or his virtues : for the youth 
 (Whom now protra£ted fojourn, in the realm 
 And friendly court of Anglia, had reveal'd 
 In native colours) wins from every heart 10 
 
 (All but the minion throng) cordial efteem, 
 And reverence, and fuch love as waits on worth 
 Unvaunting. The brave chiefs his martial port 
 Wond'ring admire; and, in his ardent eye, 
 Read his adventurous fpirit, active, bold, 15 
 
 Unweariable; and oft the fager ones divine, 
 In tone prophetic, as, amid the train 
 Illuftrious of aflbciate youth, he bears 
 The wolf's rough fpoils, triumphant, or morn creft 
 Of furious boar, flain in the fylvan war, 2p 
 
 That not unheard, in verfe, or treafur'd tale 
 Of hoar Tradition, his afpiring name 
 
B. 2. THE HOPE OF ALBION, 185 
 
 Shall to the fhades defcend. Nor lefs the fair 
 
 His graceful form approve, his manners bland, 
 
 With courteous air endearing. Form'd to pleafe, 25 
 
 Nor lefs to pleafe afpiring, well he knew 
 
 To footh the female ear, or win the heart — 
 
 And what he won to merit : champion ftill , 
 
 Guardian and friend, not fpoiler, was he found 
 
 Of virgin innocence. But moft he charm'd 30 
 
 By manly probity : a heart that fcorn'd 
 
 Guile or difguife — that to its friend was friend 
 
 Without referve; and where he found a foe 
 
 Was open, not revengeful : bold, not fierce. 
 
 The love that waited on fuch worth but ill 35 
 
 Brook the infidious crew ; and lefs they brook 
 
 That to his generous counfels Redowald's ear 
 
 Was ever open : for he counfell'd not 
 
 Such themes as courtiers ufe — as rapine, fpoils, 
 
 Oppreffions, a£ts of power that overleap 40 
 
 All bounds of law, and juftify themfelves 
 
 On pleas of ftate neceffity. All thefe 
 
 His foul abhorr'd : So Alberts timely lore, 
 
 And his own wrongs had taught. Inftead of thefe, 
 
 Juftice, and Truth, and Mercy were his theme, 45 
 
 And facred Freedom — at whofe awful name 
 
 His great heart heav'd, and, with erected brow 
 
 And eye that beam'd devotion, from his tongue 
 
 Burft drains of eloquence, which whofo' heard 
 
 Felt more than mortal fervour warm the breaft. 50 
 
 As yet the minion throng had bent beneath 
 His happier influence, and their courtly arts 
 A a 
 
186 THE HOPE OF ALBION. B. 2. 
 
 Plied unavailing ; tho not unfuborn'd 
 
 By the ufurping pair, nor unintent, 
 
 With clofe cabal, or fpecious plea, to aid 55 
 
 Their impious purpofe ; when, three feveral times, 
 
 The reftlefs tyrants (trembling at the bruit 
 
 Of Edwin's fame) had heretofore aflail'd 
 
 The Uffingian chieftain. He three fev'ral times 
 
 Reje&s their proffers, fhuddering with difdain 60 
 
 That paus'd not, nor the expefting council call'd 
 
 To vent their hollow cafuiftries. But now 
 
 Deeper their plots are laid ; their agents chos'n 
 
 With fubt'left policy ; and, big with hope, 
 
 Moves on the imperious embaffy, empow'r'd, 65 
 
 Againft the fcale of right, to counterpoife 
 
 IntYeft and fear, fedu&ion and the fword. 
 
 Nor this their only truft : for bloody rites 
 And magic incantations, ere they quit 
 Northumbria's court, give hopes of pro fperous aid, 70 
 Counfel, or force miraculous, from powers 
 Supernal — or fo deem'd by erring men. 
 Nor yet unmeaning from the reeking fane 
 IfTu'd the demon oracles : for, pois'd 
 In midway air, upon their fteps attend, ye 
 
 Unmark'd, a goblin rout, the afliduous train 
 Of Moloch, by the Saxon nations nam'd 
 Woden (fierce homicide !) in claflic times 
 Mars, or the mountain god (thence Harees) long 
 Worfhipp'd on Thracian heights — his dwelling deem'd : 
 Baal or Bell, with oriental tribes, 81 
 
 His name the while; beneath whofe idol fane, 
 
B. 2. THE HOPE OF ALBION. 187 
 
 In Babylon, the fiery furnace flam'd , 
 
 Fearful to captive Israel ! With thefe 
 
 (Mifdeem'd of later years a fabled form 85 
 
 Of allegoric fancy) Difcord foars — 
 
 Ale&o erfr., or of the furies chief 
 
 That guard Valhalla, or the gloomy throne 
 
 Of Dys — as Scald, or claffic bard adorns 
 
 The varying tale, by Superftition taught, go 
 
 Difcolouring holy truths obfcurely known : 
 
 For fhe from higheft Heav'n (a cherub once 
 
 In title and e {fence — ere her prefent name 
 
 Was beard 3 except in Chaos) headlong fell, 
 
 With all that rebel rout ; her glory foiFd, g§ 
 
 And form celeftial : firft of all the hoft 
 
 (Meribah, thence, and Meribaal call'd, 
 
 And Eber, by th' indignant files of Heav'n) 
 
 To urge prefumptuous war, and fan the rage 
 
 Of Satan, when, ambition-fir'd , he fought 100 
 
 To quell the omnipotent; and therefore fell — 
 
 He, and his rebel peers; and this withal— 
 
 Punifh'd, not penitent: for (till fhe broods 
 
 Strife and contention; — waging diftant war 
 
 On God mod high, aye prefent in his works. 105 
 
 So foars the dread Valkyrie ! — as her chief, 
 Hideous of purpofe; nor in alter'd fhape 
 Lefs fearful, when, thro' lurid air fhe floats, 
 A giant form. Round her coloffal brow 
 (Once with ambrofial locks, of orient hue, 110 
 
 Twin'd graceful) now a venomous brood enwrithe 
 With vip'rous hifs; and from her fhoulders broad, 
 
188 THE HOPE OF ALBION. B. -2. 
 
 Where erft the fnowy plumage dropp'd with gold 
 
 Beam'd radiant, wide the feared pinions fpread, 
 
 Bat-form'd, a huge expanfe ! and over hill, 115 
 
 Cham pain, or grove, or dale, where'er fhe wends 
 
 On impious errand, fhed a noxious fhadow. 
 
 Fierce are her looks, and fullen — ghaftly fierce ! 
 
 Dark fcouls her lowering brow ; and, underneath, 
 
 The reftlefs eye-balls, that, dilated, gleam 120 
 
 Two fiery meteors, ever rolling, feek 
 
 Food for their wrath, while on each feature hangs 
 
 Black tempeft, rage deform'd, and rending ftorm 
 
 Tumultuous. Such fhe feems (hideous and wild !) 
 
 As when, in midnight blafts, the warring clouds 125 
 
 Burft flaming, and the elfe untemper'd dark 
 
 Bewrays the mingled uproar; feas, and ikies, 
 
 And riven rock, and mail of founder'd bark, 
 
 And fteeple' and tow'r fplit fmouldering : woful fcene ! 
 
 To her heart-cheering! which, when fhe beholds, 130 
 
 She (hakes the fcorpion fcourge, and, from her fide, 
 
 Snatches, in acl to found, the pendant horn 
 
 Earth-fhaking, that appals living and dead : 
 
 The fame which erft, ere man yet was, on high 
 
 War and defiance breath'd, from angel hofts 135 
 
 Apofcate; and, firil time, with alien founds, 
 
 Rude clamouring, tore Heav'n's concave; vocal ne'er, 
 
 Till that difaftrous hour, but with the {trains, 
 
 Holy and fweet, of love, and gratulous joy. 
 
 Like wrath to breed in Albion, now the fiend 140 
 Spreads her obnoxious pinion : in her rear, 
 A throng of miniftering fiends, that imp her flight, 
 
B. 2. THE HOPE OF ALBION. 189 
 
 And do her fatal biddings ; ftirring up , 
 
 Each in his fphere not idle , venomous thoughts — 
 
 Panics, and rage, and wrongs; obdurate pride 145 
 
 And jaundic'd jealoufies ; fufpicions dire, 
 
 And fears, and hates, the populous brood of Hell. 
 
 By thefe (the gods of Acca) watch'd and warn'd, 
 Proceeds the imperious embafTy, on which 
 Thy fate Northumbria hangs, and Albion's hope 150 
 Of laws and holy truths , that from the bonds 
 Of tyrant Superftition may redeem , 
 And favage wrongs. So fear the demon gods 
 Of Scandinavia — Hertha and her race — 
 (So deem'd : herfelf of elder Ymer born : 155 
 
 Born out of Chaos !) but more truly known 
 As Belial's hideous train ; obfcene with rage 
 Of brutal cruelty and brutal joys ; 
 Yet worfhipp'd oft on many a torr fublime ; 
 In many a Karn ; and oft, in runic verfe , 1 60 
 
 With fond alliteration, hymn'd and prais'd. 
 Thee, Frea! thee they praife, embrothel'd queen 
 Of wanton dalliance! and thy warrior fpoufe, 
 Afgardian Woden, in his Hall of Shields, 
 Horrid with blood; and cloud compelling Thor 165 
 (Fruit of your loves connubial) and the reft 
 Who, with feptemviral fway, with magic rites, 
 And impious feftivals, alternate fhar'd 
 Diurnal homage ; chronicled as yet 
 In myftic calendars; profaning thus 170 
 
 The fhrine of holy Science with the weeds 
 Of Pagan Superftition, falfe and foul! 
 
3 90 THE HOPE OF ALBION. B. 2. 
 
 All thefe and more (Elvae, and antic Sprites — 
 
 Patrons of months and feafons) fear their doom 
 
 Fear for their fhrines and altars, runic fpells, 175 
 
 And homicidal worfhip. Therefore, fent 
 To aid the tyrant's plea , th' infernal throng 
 Fly fedulous ; and feel a common caufe. 
 
 A common caufe, not lefs, the minion train 
 Who throng the court of Redowald confefs— 180 
 
 Nor lefs malign. And now, by thefe infpir'd, 
 They tower with bolder frontlet : hence no more 
 Obfequious flatterers, to a matters will 
 Who bow with filent awe. The palace rings 
 With {trains unwonted; and the royal name, 185 
 
 Clamorous, they brand with cenfure — who, unwarn'd, 
 86 An alien youth protects — perhaps for crimes 
 cc Banifh'd his native land; unheard reje&s 
 " The claims, perchance, of juftice; turning, hence, 
 " Proffer'd alliance into deadly feuds 190 
 
 " And enmities; the while Eaft Anglia's realm, 
 " Menac'd with dangerous league, rauft in new wars 
 " Plunge, unconfulted — her exiftence flake, 
 " As yet unliable, from the recent ft rife, 
 « Wag'd with Icenian foes : and this, forfooth, 195 
 
 " Not for Eaft Anglia's glory ; not to gain 
 " Extent of wifh'd dominion, and her chiefs 
 " Enrich with foreign fpoil; or further chace, 
 " Into their favage wilds, the Cambrian tribes 
 " Detefted : not to reft on firmer bafe 200 
 
 " Eaft Anglia's freedom, and her rights protect. 
 64 Inviolate, from fpoil of alien force: — 
 
JS. 2. THE HOPE OF ALBION. 191 
 
 « No — not for this, nor thefe, mult Anglian blood 
 
 " Flow in the direful conflict, and our ftrength, 
 
 "Exhaufted, peri (h in renewed ftrife, 205 
 
 " Ere from the old reviv'd. But grant it right, 
 
 " Thus, for a vagrant chief (for caufes known 
 
 " Belt to himfelf) from every other court 
 
 " Expell'd indignant; for a chief, erewhile, 
 
 " Among their untam'd mountains, taught and train'd 
 
 " By our inveterate foes , and doom'd, perhaps, 211 
 
 *' In league with Cambrian legions, once again 
 
 " To make the Saxon power ; till all in vain 
 
 " Our Uffas, and our Hengifts, Erkenwins, 
 
 " Cerdics and Idas, chiefs of deathlefs fame — 215 
 
 " The progeny of Woden, demigods ! 
 
 « In the illuftrious conflict fhall have bled !— — 
 
 " Grant that it could, in fuch a caufe, be right 
 
 " (For one of dubious fame — a flranger chief!) 
 
 " To plunge in civil feud, and Saxon fwords 220 
 
 <; Bury in Saxon bofoms, were't not well 
 
 " To hear, at leaft, the embaffy ?— to weigh 
 
 " The caufe in council ? that Eaft Anglian blood 
 
 " Not unappreciate by Eaft Anglia's chiefs 
 
 "May flow devoted; and our fate depend 225 
 
 " On other furety than an alien's will." 
 
 Thus, in the Court, they clamour, gloffing o'er 
 Their impious purpofe with the fpecious fhew 
 Of patriotic care, and pious zeal, 
 And tender love of juftice ; nor lefs loud 230 
 
 Amid the popular throng; whom for their ends 
 (Tho erft defpis'd and trampled) they exalt, 
 
19 2 THE HOPE OF ALBION. B.2. 
 
 And woo with artful blandifhments — their ears 
 
 Filling with fearful words — ftrife-ftirring founds 
 
 And cabaliftic jargon ; fuch as aye 235 
 
 Traitors in pow'r, ftate jugglers, trumpet forth, 
 
 When in the popular mind they feek to raife 
 
 Ideal terrors, phantoms of alarm, 
 
 And bafelefs apprehenfions. By fuch arts 
 
 Sway they the unliable mind of Redowald, 240 
 
 Eife felf-determin'd and perfuade to hear 
 
 The embaify in council ; there to weigh 
 
 War or alliance, the propounded terms 
 
 For ^Ella's Son protected or betray'd. 
 
 'Mid thefe cabals not idle are the twain, 245 
 
 Or of their charge unheedful. Thro' the night, 
 While, with the focial chiefs, waflail and meed 
 They quaff, in gay caroufals, Hermanric 
 Probes every heart : as pride or intereft fways, 
 Mirth, or the genial rite, or thirft of fame, 250 
 
 Or enmity and deep corroding hate 
 Againft the race of Cambria, he enflames 
 Their feveral paffions : here the coftly gift 
 Timely prefents ; fome martial trophy there ; 
 And there the fpacious bowl. Lefs fordid, thefe 255 
 Are won by fhews of friendship — cordial words, 
 The ftatefman's cheaper! bribes. Some well-tim'd praife 
 Quaint tales or jefts convivial fome allure- — 
 A jocund band ; while to another group 
 Of martial deeds he vaunts, " of Bangor's fight, 260 
 " Where Adelfrid o'er (laugh ter'd thou fandsftrode, 
 " Humbling the Cambrian creft ; while, cowering, fled 
 
B. 2. THE HOPE OF ALBION. 193 
 
 " Brochmael, thy .prince, O, Powys! to their fate 
 
 (i Leaving the tonfur'd crew; twelve hundred priefbj 
 
 44 Crofier'd and cowl'd ; who, with their impious rites 
 
 " And chaunted incantations, hope to fray 266 
 
 44 The fons of Woden. To the infulted god, 
 
 44 An acceptable offering, thefe our king 
 
 44 Bravely devotes ; then, on the buckler'd hoft, 
 
 44 Springs, like the brindled wolf, who, having flehYd 
 
 44 His warrior tufks with blood, and thinn'dthe fold, 271 
 
 " Next on the herdfmen turns, that round him throng, 
 
 44 Intent with miflile weapons to repel 
 
 44 The bold invader: thefe, with conquering rage, 
 
 44 Fiercely he tears; their fylvan war defies, 275 
 
 44 And chaces to their huts ; well pleas'd to find 
 
 44 Inglorious fafety. So the hero rag'd : 
 
 44 So to their woods and mountains chac'd the tribes 
 
 44 Of 'Cambria's boaftful warriors. Dee's broad waves 
 
 44 Ran purple to the fea; proud Bangor flam'd; 280 
 "And Legan-Cefter, trembling to its bafe, 
 
 45 Confefs'd the Saxon pow'r. Nor fcap'd the chiefs ; 
 44 But, by the outftretch'd fax mow'd down, or crufh'd 
 44 Beneath the pond'rous mace, groaning they fell, 
 
 44 In conflict and in flight, a royal carnage ! 285 
 
 44 Firft bled Gwendellau, fierce Caradoc next, 
 44 Madoc and Modred, ftrong Derwyddon, Ludd, 
 44 Merion and Mathraval; Rhiwallon next, 
 44 Renown'd for brutal rage; and Howel's fon, 
 44 Proud Cunvan : fwift Ardiffrid then we flew, 290 
 * 4 O'erta'en in flight; and, making fruitlefs ftand, 
 44 Cadwallader, and Rhun, and Ruthfedel; 
 
 B B 
 
1 94 THE HOPE OF ALBION. B. 2. 
 
 "And ftern Cadoffin, tall Ufgathrog, Mawr, 
 
 " Enion and CadifFor — Arglooddi all, 
 
 " Fam'd in their clans, and Bards, whofe epic fongs 295 
 
 ** Inflame the martial ardour. Cadvan's felf — 
 
 " (Your Edwin's patron !) who, with all his hofts, 
 
 " Flufh'd with predicted conqueft, from the north 
 
 " Came foaming (like the torrents from their heights, 
 
 " Swoln by autumnal rains — an upland fea !) 300 
 
 " Stood all aghaft; and, doubting Merlin's faith, 
 
 " For his own Snowdon trembled and retir'd." 
 
 Thus Hermanric. Fierce Ofla hears with joy 
 The boaftful tale : but raoft his foul exults 
 In Bangor's malfacre — her flaughter'd monks 305 
 
 And conflagrated monaft'ry — " where all 
 " Their arts," he cries, " their fpells, and endlefs rolls 
 " Of Nechromantic jargon, a vaft pile 
 " Of impious mummery, in the flames expire. 
 " Grim Woden fmil'd, and Thor, with furious joy, 310 
 " Convuls'd the air ; while Coifi, from the herd 
 " Of trembling captives, fnatch'd the vi£tim chiefs, 
 " And on our altars flew. So perifh all 
 " The race of Cambria — and their vagrant friends !" 
 
 Redden his eyes at this : his eyes that glare, 3 1 5 
 
 Inquifitive, around: and, where he marks 
 A kindred difpofition, there he turns, 
 Infidious — pledges deep the waflail bowl, 
 And grafps the hand in amity; the while, 
 With low'ring brow, and darkly mutter'd words, 320 
 He kcds the (mouldering fire. To fuch, he drops 
 Clofe-whifbefd hints of" Traitors! — Cambrian fpies 1" 
 
B. 2. THE HOPE OF ALBION. ig$ 
 
 Or tells fome tale " of canker-worms deftroy'd, 
 " Or vipers crufrYd !" — Nor lacks the ambiguous theme 
 Comment of glancing eye, or gnafhing teeth, 325 
 
 Or hand that grafps the poignard, half expos 'd. 
 
 Thus waines the night. But , when the ruddy day 
 Refumes his empire, thro' the crowded ftreets 
 They bend their courfe; and to the public gaze, 
 Difplay their purpose! prefents : chiefly thofe 330 
 
 (Banners and arms and trophies) from the foe 
 Ta'en in the Ceftrian fight. With thefe they hope, 
 Not idly, in the popular mind, to roufe 
 The fullen paffions — fcorn, and deadly hate 
 Of alien tribes, and national pride that fteels 335 
 
 The obdurate heart, prefumptuous, and confounds 
 Reaibn and right; moulding the infatuate herd 
 (Their own word foes !) to the pernicious views 
 Q[ crafty politicians : whence the woes 
 That thin the human race — oppreffions, wars, 340 
 
 Famine, and fire, and peftilence; whate'er 
 The Good with horror view, the Great with pride. 
 Meantime, not heedlefs, with the gaping throng 
 Mingle the miniftering furies ; their foul forms 
 Vailing in human mould, and fhifting oft, 345 
 
 As fphits wont, and their malignant views 
 Bed prompt them. Now, in lowliefl weeds, they mix 
 Among the loweft, and, with fordid fpeech, 
 Quaint idiom, and obfeener mirth, difguife 
 I nfidious malice; now, in martial ftrain, 35O 
 
 Boad their exploits, and fhew the mimic fear, 
 Feign'd from Icenian fhafts. Anon, they feem 
 
196 THE HOPE OF ALBION. B. 2, 
 
 Sages, or Priefts, that of impending ills 
 
 Bode, reas'ning, or, from divination, feign 
 
 Woes darkly fhadow'd. Still, in every form, 355 
 
 Their own bad paflions into every breaft 
 
 They breathe, infectious— pride, and caufelefs hate, 
 
 Contention, fcorn, and envy, and the drought 
 
 Of wildering rage, that thirfts for guiltlefs blood. 
 
 Such paflions, by the pafling pomp infpir'd, 360 
 
 (For fo he deems) the crafty Hermanric 
 Beholds felf-gratulous : nor does he lack 
 To watch the fpreading fire, and, timely, heap 
 Fuel of words accordant ; vaunting oft 
 *? Northumbrian glory, and the martial fame 365 
 
 ^ Of Adelfrid, from Eaft to Weft wide borne 
 * c On wings of Triumph ! — Caledonians, Pi&s, 
 " And martial Scots pent in their Grampion hilis ; 
 " The Saxon name fpread to the northern ifles ; 
 ^ And Cambro-Britons o'er their barren heights 370 
 " Chac'd timorous, on the fea's extremeft verge 
 " To pant for fhort-liy'd fafety." So he boafts 
 (Bruiting a tyrant's worth!) and interweaves 
 Words oft of foothing praife, and deareft love 
 Borne to Eaft Anglia's tribe ; and much he talks 375 
 " Of wifli'd alliance; of confederate force, 
 ^ And Cambria's remnant cruih'd beneath the weight 
 f ; Of Anglia and Northumbrja join'd in arms." 
 . Mantles each cheek at this. The demon ftirs 
 In each inflated breaft; ,nor ftirs unurg'd; 3S0 
 
 For fwift the infernal crew the clofing words, 
 gxulting, catch; and. with reverberate fhout, 
 
B. 2. THE HOPE OF ALBION. 197 
 
 Rend heav'n's high arch , denouncing " Cambria's fall 
 
 " By Anglia and Northumbria V The fierce throng 
 
 Kindle with martial rage. All join the peal, 385 
 
 And fwift, from man to man, contagious wrath 
 
 Spreads, direful ; as, from group to group, expands 
 
 The eleclric fire, when to the cryftal jar, 
 
 Or fphere excited, the hermetic hand 
 
 Applies the tried conductor, and relieves 390 
 
 The imprifon'd element, whofe fubtile flames 
 
 Dart thro' the languid nerves, the fibres brace, 
 
 And with encreas'd pulfation urge the heart. 
 
 So thefe, excited by myfterious fires, 
 Glow with unwonted fury. Loud the name 395 
 
 Of Adelfrid they clamour — " Adelfrid! 
 " Avenging Scythe of Woden ! Cambria's Scourge ! 
 " Hope of the Cimbrian race !" Meantime to arms, 
 Urg'd by the demon crew, with breathlefs hafte, 
 All fly delirious. Thro' the crowded ftreets 400 
 
 Helmet and hauberk gleam, and burnifh'd fax, 
 Spear, and the ponderous mace. The clanging fhields 
 Bray hideous ; and the city teems with war. 
 
 Then fwells the heart, vainglorious. Each beholds, 
 In fierce imagination, thy proud towers, 405 
 
 Diganway, fall; while, o'er the perilous heights 
 Of cloud-girt Snowdon, expectation pours 
 The martial deluge ; and the haplefs race 
 (Hated for wrongs and fufTerings!) feems extinft. 
 
 Meantime, in different groups, the demon throng 
 Effay their boldefl arts; and, for their ends, 41 % 
 
 Affume the port and geflure (well devis'd) 
 
*9 8 THE HOPE OF ALBION. B. 2. 
 
 Of minion courtiers — a feditious crew, 
 
 When to their ends directed, the dread ftorm 
 
 Of popular rage may fwell ! Now here, now there ? 415 
 
 Clamourous they fly, inflaming more the fierce, 
 
 Urging the bold, and with infidious fpeech, 
 
 Guiding the whirlwind paflions. But o'er all, 
 
 Gifted in fpecious malice, and the rage 
 
 Of feliering hate, the feeming Beornulph fhines : 420 
 
 Beornulph, for unrein'd infolence and pride 
 
 Confpicuous ever : turbulent of tongue, 
 
 And fchool'd in fubtile fophiftry, he knew 
 
 Each popular art againft the popular caufe. 
 
 Skilful, to turn; to deck the altar up 425 
 
 Of bloocjy immolation in fuch guife 
 
 Of luring pomp that the poor hecatomb 
 
 Bleat for the facrifice ; and while they deem 
 
 Themfelves the God, not victims , on the knife 
 
 Rufh felf-deftroying. Such appropriate form 430 
 
 Aflumes The Mafter Fiend, who, heretofore, 
 
 Aloof, fufpended on inveterate wing, 
 
 Beheld the tumult thickening — beft to guide 
 
 The Miniflering Mifchief, or the frenzy urge 
 
 When to full crifis raging. This perceiv'd, 435 
 
 She her infernal in fuch femblant form 
 
 Subtly invelopes, with infuriate force 
 
 Of hell-inftructed eloquence, to goad 
 
 Delirium on to madnefs; and the wrath, 
 
 Kindled by wiles demoniac againft 440 
 
 The race of Cambria, on the head divert 
 
 Of Edwin — erft fo favour'd: popular love 
 
 (Ah, boon precarious !) to the deadly gall 
 
B. 2. THE HOPE OF .ALBION. 199 
 
 Of hatred turning. Thus disguis'd, her head, 
 While fierce the tumult rages, o'er the crowd 445 
 
 Lifts the dire fiend. The fpell-bound crowd attend. 
 " And what prevents — ye warriors ! what prevents 
 " The wifh'd alliance ? — What forbids the Sons 
 « Of Elb, united, to their fame to ruffi, 
 " And Cambria's inftant fall ? What but this blight — 
 " This outlaw'd Edwin? who, in Cambria's court 451 
 " Uprear'd and nurtur'd, to the Cambrian race 
 " Inclines with partial favour: in his heart 
 " Almoft a Briton ! adverfe to our Gods, 
 " And from our altars alien ! Lie it is 455 
 
 " That with his foreign counfels fills the ear 
 " Of credulous Red'wald, urging caufelefs hate 
 " Againft Northumbrian king , brave Adelfrid ! 
 " Whom, as it feems, the popular voice preferr'd, 
 " For martial virtues, and deep rooted hate 460 
 
 " Of Cambria's tribe, to fill a double throne ; 
 <e And, haply, for collective ftrength, to blend, 
 M Againft the common foe, Dei'ria's fons 
 " With thofe of fam'd Bernicia. He, it feems, 
 " Owns not the national will ; but would oppofe, 465 
 " And, with hereditary claims, diflblve 
 " The happy compaft. Hence, from court to court, 
 " Suppliant, he flies, with well-invented tales 
 C( Of wrongs and woes, florming the womanifh heart 
 61 Of Pity; hoping thus the Saxon league 470 
 
 " To fplit in hoftile faQions ; and, by force 
 t; Of alien fwords, with lurking treafons leagu'd, 
 " To gain his ends ambitious. Thus may we — 
 " Shield clafh'd with fhield, and fax with fax embroil'd, 
 
200 THE HOPE OF ALBION, B. 2. 
 
 " Thin our vi&orious ranks. Meantime the foe, 475 
 
 " Fear-chill'd no more, burft from their icy chains ; 
 
 " And, from Mervinian heights, ihall Cad van pour 
 
 " The wafting deluge o'er our fertile vales 
 
 " Exulting; and, too late, our civil rage 
 
 " Quench in promifcuous ruin : better far 480 
 
 " Timely extinguifh'd : better, e're the fpark 
 
 H Spreads into flame, in its own fmoke, confound 
 
 " The latent mifchief. Hence Northumbria's, peers 
 
 " Pronounce him traitor. Hence each Saxon realm, 
 
 " (Eaft Anglia's court excepted) timely wife, 485 
 
 " Spurns him pernicious. Even Erin's chiefs, 
 
 " That range the fwampy foreft , and the hordes 
 
 " Of Scandinavian rovers, who the fea 
 
 " From Mang's rude Hie infeft, their aid refufe. 
 
 " But we, my friends ! we on this forlorn hope 490 
 
 " Headlong muft rufh, and thefe our fcythe-like blades 
 
 " (Whence our heroic name) muft turn to mow 
 
 " Not Woden's foes, but Woden's kindred ranks : 
 
 " An impious harveft . Doff then the ftern helm : 
 
 " Pile up your arms: Hauberk, and axe, and fpear, 
 
 " In idle ftate, hang in your chieftains' halls, 496 
 
 " And let the warrior fax ruft in the fcabbard : 
 
 " So Edwin wills or clang your brazen fhields 
 
 " For him , and not for Adelfrid. The front 
 
 " Of perilous war turn not againft the tribes 500 
 
 « c Of fugitive Cambria \ but againft the Chief 
 
 " (Favour'd of Woden) who the Cambrian tribes 
 
 " Pens in contracting bounds; — and would deftroy, 
 
 " But for interline treafons ! " Thus declaims 
 
 The latent fiend, well afting, and appears, 505 
 
B. 2. THE HOPE OF ALBION. 201 
 
 In phrafe, as voice and gefture, Beornulph's felf : 
 Clamourous and falfe ; the demagogue of power ! 
 Then, plunging in the crowd, to thinner air 
 Refolves the borrow'd form; and over head 
 Floats, a dark cloud, wide lowering : fuch as oft 510 
 O'er Skiddow's top (divine of coming florms — 
 Lightning, or hail, or fall of feathery froft 
 Cold-piercing, or the deluging rain that fwells 
 Autumnal torrents) at the clofe of eve, 
 With darkening fwoop, ftoops threat'ning: fearful fight 
 To the way-wearied traveller, whofe eye, 516 
 
 Haggard and cheerlefs , fcans the houfelefs wafte. 
 
 Meanwhile her trump fonorous, with loud blaft, 
 The fiend infpires; wide-fpread, her harpy wings 
 Flap joyous ; and with more than mortal force 520 
 She fwells the boifterous din. The crowd confefs 
 The hovering demon. Wide, and wider fpreads 
 The torrent rage, with fhout, and deaf'ning clafh 
 Of brazen fhields , that uproar fhakes the earth. 
 Then onward, by the maddening peft impell'd, 525 
 Foaming they pour, and with their clamourous rage 
 Circle the royal palace : like the fea, 
 That breaks its banks, and, round fome frontier tow'r, 
 Beacon, or fpire, roars with tumultuous rage: 
 Wave rolls on wave, and, flood impelling flood, 530 
 Onward refiftlefs fpreads : fierce breaks the foam 
 (A briny fhower) dafh'd from the batter'd bafe, 
 Till from its height, the threaten'd pile ftoops tottering. 
 
 So they, impatient for the Cambrian war, 
 Foam mad'ning: while for Adelfrid they fhout, 535 
 Till with percuffion of the beaten air 
 c c 
 
202 THE HOPE OF ALBION. B. 2. 
 
 The palace trembles. Red'wald hears aftound : 
 
 Nor ill divining the infidious caufe, 
 
 Ponders with painful doubt ; and with his breaft 
 
 Holds fearful council. So a fwarm of wafps , 540 
 
 By hunger urg'd , around the induftrious hive 
 
 Throng martial, and, with brandifh'd fling prepar'd , 
 
 Breathe thro' their tiny horns the threatening blaft 
 
 Impetuous; while within the regal bee 
 
 Fears for the foodful ftore, and, ere fhe calls 545 
 
 Forth from their waxen cells and frugal toils 
 
 The warlike train, debates, with quick confult, 
 
 How wifelieft to repel impending woe. 
 
 END OF THE SECOND BOOK. 
 
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 OF 
 
 NORTHERN MYTHOLOGY, &c. 
 FAIRY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 ACT I, Sc. I. p. 3. Invisible Spirits. The Laplanders continue 
 to this day to believe in a sort of Demons of the Air, (called 
 Jeuhles) who inhabit the air and have great power over human 
 actions; but are without form or substance. Guthr. Gramm. 
 p. 97, 9th Edit. Sheffer's Hist. Lapland, Ch. 9, &c. 
 
 V. 3. With Runic Spell. The northern nations held their 
 Runic verses in such reverence, that they believed them suffici- 
 ent (provided they were pronounced with great emotion of 
 mind — together with a firm belief) to raise the ghosts of the 
 departed. Five Pieces of Runic Poetry from the Icelandic, p. 6. 
 Percy" 1 s Reliques, &c. 
 
 V. 5. Pride of Woden' s race, Woden (or Odin) was the 
 Scandinavian God of War — the Chief and Father of all the 
 other Gods. From him all the Saxon princes affected to trace 
 their descent. See the Geneological Tables in Rapine, Vol. I. B. 3. 
 Once for all, both in this Drama, and in the Hope of Albion, 
 I have- followed the suggestion of Milton (and, indeed, of The 
 Old and New Testament) in considering these Demon Gods as 
 real personages— as rebellious and fallen angels assuming these 
 forms to draw the deluded nations into idolatry, 
 
 V. 13. The misty realms of Frost . The Hell of the Scandina- 
 vians was a frozen region, involved in perpetual mists, and 
 hail, and snow, and sleet. To this region, The DysaB — (aveng- 
 ing Goddesses,) or messengers of Woden, delivered over the 
 Ghosts of perjurers and cowards, and all who did not die in 
 battle, or by some violent death ; there to be tormented with 
 hunger, thirst, and all sorts of evils. Univ. Hist. ; Mallet's 
 North, Antiq.; Cottle's Edda ; Sayers ; &c, 
 
 P. 4. v. 1. The Fatal Sisters. The destinies, who were be- 
 lieved to weave for every individual a mysterious web, upon 
 which their fate depended. They are, sometimes, called Nor- 
 nies; and with them, sometimes, are confounded the Dysse. 
 
 V. 2. Hela. The Goddess of Death ; or Queen of the infer- 
 nal regions. She was the Daughter of Lok (the Evil Spirit) 
 and of Signa or Sinna (whence the word Sin) his Spouse. All 
 the race of Lok were evil, and hostile to the other Gods. Cot" 
 tie, Sfc. and Eng. E?icyclop. Art. Mythology. 
 
 V. 5. Valhalla. The Hall-of-Shields — Woden's palace, 
 where the Monoheroes or Patriarchs, engaged every day in 
 direful conflict; after which they sat down to regale themselves 
 at a sumptuous banquet, and drank ale and wassail, &c. out 
 of the spalls of their enemies. See any of the authorities aioje 
 quoted* 
 
[ 2 °4 ] 
 
 V. 8. Frea* The Goddess of Beauty (Daughter of Niord, of 
 Nocca, God of the Sea.) She was the wife of Woden — tho 
 Sayer and some others assign that honour to Hertha — I believe 
 upon no better authority than Tacitus : who, certainly, upon 
 Runic Mythology, is not a very good one. She is called " the 
 " propitious Goddess;" and to her lovers prefer their vows. 
 
 Ibid. Asgardian Bowers. Asgard is the heaven of the Scan- 
 dinavians. 
 
 V. 4. from bottom . Asori' s Gods. Woden and his race are 
 called the Asi or Asori. This term, properly speaking, includes 
 all the northern Deities but Nocca, who, tho ranked among 
 the Gods, was not of the Asori race. 
 
 Y.5. v. 9. Schulda. The youngest of the Destinies but the 
 most awful. She presides over the future. 
 
 V. 11. Braga. The God of Eloquence, ofPoetry, and Music. 
 
 V. 12. Asamael. The Language ofPoetry.. As the word 
 Rnuic, strictly speaking, is applicable only to the character in 
 which the verses of the Northern Poets (or Scalds) were written, 
 so is Asamael descriptive of the particular dialect in which their 
 poetry was always composed. 
 
 P. 6. v. 5. Ensanguined Altars. Human victims (especially 
 prisoners of war) were offered to Wooden, and others of these 
 Demon Gods. 
 
 V. 9. Cloud-compelling T/ior. The God of Thunder, or of the 
 Air: Son of Woden and Frea. With his iron gauntlet he 
 hurled the thunder-bolts ; . and with his mace he controuled the 
 Giants of Frost, and ruled the elements. He was also a great 
 warrior ; the adversary of the gigantean race ; and the victor 
 of Lok, and all his monster-brood. 
 
 P. 7. v. 1. Mara. The Spectre who oppresses and terrifies 
 people in their sleep. Hence " Night Mara" (the Maid of 
 Night,) by corruption, " Night Mare." 
 
 V. 12. Cimbrian Groves. The Saxon tribes before their mi- 
 gration to Britain inhabited the Cimbrica Chersonesus ; a part of 
 the present Kingdom of Denmark. Vcrstcgans Rest. Ant. Chap. I. 
 
 P. 8 v. 3. Bertha, or the Earth. The mother of all the Gods. 
 The Goddess also of fertility. 
 
 V. 18. Dread Fiend Unutterable. The Malignant Spirit, A 
 nameless Female, residing in a great house under the sea ; 
 where, by her charms and incantations, she causes dearth, by 
 confining all the fishes, &c. of the sea. To relieve the Green- 
 landers from such calamities, an Angekok, or Magician, jour- 
 mes'thro' the Kingdom of Souls, over an horrible abys, to 
 the palace of tins phantom, and by his charms compels her to 
 release them. Grant z Hist. Green/, 
 
 P. 9. v. 3. (from the bottom) Valkyries. Subordinate God- 
 desses, who attend upon the Table of Woden, and usually exe- 
 cute his commands, selecting those in battle who are doomed 
 
[ 205 ] 
 
 to die, &c. Sometimes he mixed in the conflict, and struck the 
 victims himself. 
 
 P. 10. v. 5. Iduna's Banquet. She possessed The Apples of 
 Youth ; of which, when advancing to old age, the Deities tasted, 
 and were instantly restored to the^r former youth and vigour. 
 
 V. the last. Gwertheymion. This castle was, in reality, 
 situated among the fastnesses of Plynlinmon, near the source 
 of the Wye. If the use I have made of the liberty is not un- 
 poetical, I shall be excused for removing it to the Beacons of 
 Brecknock (Farinioch.) 
 
 P. 14. v. 16. The Moon withdraws his light. In Northern My- 
 thology, and, indeed, in most of the Northern Languages, The 
 • Sun is feminine; and the Moon masculine. See an article, full of 
 erudition and accurate criticism upon the subject of these notes, in the 
 Monthly Magazine for December, 179$ » P« 454. See also Beatie's 
 Theory of Language. 
 
 Sc.2.P. 17. 1. 12. The Twilight of the Gods.The Scandinavian 
 Deities were not supposed to be immortal. They, were to pe- 
 rish in the general wreck of the universe. This is what is 
 called The Twilight of the Gods ; and the descriptions of this, 
 and of the predicted resuscitation of Nature from the wreck, 
 constitute the noblest parts of the system of Runic Mythology. 
 
 Scene 3. p. 19- 1- 2. A Female Child, &c. The pictured 
 Drum, used in the rites of northern magic, was a sort of Ket- 
 tle Drum, hollowed out of pine, fir, or birch, and covered with 
 a skin, painted over with a variety of mysterious characters, 
 &c. The hammer, partly in the form of the letter Y, was 
 made of the same sort of wood. It was kept carefully wrapt 
 up in the skin of the Loam, a bird that always lives in the wa- 
 ter ; and it was held so sacred, that no marriageable woman 
 might venture to approach it. For the method of using these, 
 and the rings, images, &c. mentioned in the text — see Sheffer's 
 Lapland. 
 
 V. 14. The Bear was not exterminated from this Island till 
 some centuries after the time from which the action of this Dra- 
 ma is taken. See note in Pennant'' s British Zoology. 
 
 P. 20. v. 5. The Night-Swallaw ; Goat-Sucker, Night- 
 Hawk, or Chum Owl. A bird of passage. It visits England 
 about May, and returns in August. Buff on. 
 
 P. 21. v. 2. Nifheim. The Home of mists > or Frozen Hell: 
 called, also, The Ninefold World; being subdivided into so 
 many regions. 
 
 V. 6. Ifing. The River that separates the giants and race of evil 
 beings, &c. from the Gods. The word itself means strife, or 
 anger. 
 
 V. 7. Thy Dome of Anguish, &c. The palace of Hela was 
 Anguish ; her Table, Famine ; her Waiters were Expectation 
 and delay ; the threshold of her door was Precipiece ; her 
 
[ 206 ] 
 
 bed, Leanness ; she was livid and ghastly pale ; and her very 
 looks inspired horror. 
 
 V. 20. Ymer (or Augelmer.) He seems to be, alternately, 
 considered as the Son of Chaos, and as Chaos itself. He is 
 father of the race of Giants (or Jutes) i. e. of the adversaries 
 of the Asori. He is not considered as a God, because ail his 
 race were evil. Odin, Vile, and Ve, the Sons of Bor or Beor, 
 slew this giant, and the blood from his wounds caused a gene- 
 ral inundation, &c. They then carried him into the middle 
 of Ginnungagap (the great void), where, from his flesh, they 
 created the earth ; the sea and rivers from his blood ; moun- 
 tains from his bones; rocks and stones from his teeth and 
 "broken bones ; herbs from his hair ; heaven from his scull ; 
 the habitable regions from his eyebrows ; and the clouds from 
 his brains. 
 
 P. 23. v. 4 & 5. The Wolf-like Serpent— Midgard's Serpent.' One 
 of the monster brood of Lok — -consequently an adversary of the 
 Gods. He was cast into the sea, there to remain till conquered, 
 at the last day, by the God Thor, who, in his turn, is suffo- 
 cated in the floods of venom, which the Dragon breathes forth, 
 as he expires. 
 
 L. 10. Hell-dogs' 1 tripple growl, The bridge and gates of hell 
 are guarded by three dogs ; of which Grimer is the chief. They 
 feed on the carcases of the dead. 
 
 L. 11. Rafaen. The Raven of Schulda, who carries the de- 
 crees of Fate to Woden. 
 
 Ibid. Fenrir (or Fenris.) The Wolf. Another of the mon- 
 ster brood of Lok. Tyr, and the other warrior Deities bound 
 this adversary of the Gods in chains. But these he is to burst 
 at The Twilight of the Gods : when opening his enormous 
 mouth, that reaches from the Earth to Heaven, he is to swal- 
 low up the Sun. Woden, in his golden casque, and resplen- 
 dant cuiras, attacks him with his vast scimitar : but he is de^ 
 voured ; and Fenrir perishes at the same instant. 
 
 Scene 4. P. 24, v. 13. Lok'' 's prolific hate. The evil Genius of 
 the Scandinavians; ranked, nevertheless, among their Gods. 
 The Architect of Guilt, &c. Beautiful in figure ; but surpassing- 
 all beings in perfidy and craft. He had many children. 
 
 V. 18. By the channels twelve, &c. Niflheim (or Nifleil) was 
 created long before the Earth; and in the centre of which rose 
 a fountain called Hvergelmer. Its effluvia produced many rivers 
 near the boundary of Hell. The names of some of these were 
 Misery, Hope deferred, Swift Perdition, Cruel Storm, Wailing 1 
 and Gnashing of Teeth. 
 
 P. 25. The Bridge where Giol rolls. Giol is one of the rivers 
 of Hell. Over the bridge that crosses it the ghosts of Cowards, 
 Perjurers, &c. pass in their way to the infernal abodes. 
 
 P. 26. v. 3 and 4. Norver. The father of Night. Dagcr. Day, 
 
[ 20 7 3 
 
 P. 29. v. 2. Hydrassil (or Hydrasil.) The sacred Ash of As-« 
 gard. The court of the Gods is ordinarily kept under a great 
 ash-tree; and there they distribute justice. This ash is the 
 greatest of all trees ; its branches cover the surface of the earth ; 
 its top reaches to the highest heaven ; it is supported by three 
 vast roots, one of which extends to the ninth world, or Hell. 
 An eagle, whose piercing eye discovers all things, perches upon 
 its branches. l\xom under one of the roots runs a fountain 
 where Wisdom lies concealed. From a neighbouring spring (the 
 fountain of past things) three virgins are continually drawing 
 a precious water, with which they water the Ash-tree : this 
 water, after having refreshed its leaves, falls back again upon the 
 earth, where it forms the dew of which the bees make their honey. 
 
 ACT 2. P. 32. Sc. 1. The Lady. The Cambrian superstitions 
 harmonize so readily with those of the Northern nations ; and 
 the mixed and illegitimate Christianity of those times borders 
 so closely upon paganism, that, I trust, the combination 
 will not destroy the poetical probability of either. The. Lady of 
 the Lake, according to Cambrian Story, was one of the Fairy 
 guardians of Arthur. In delineating her character I should, 
 perhaps, have been justified by the record in representing her in 
 a very different point of view from that which I have chosen. 
 It is no improbable conjecture that the fable originated in the 
 mysterious seclusion of some beautiful mistress of the British 
 Champion; and that Arthur (like the more fortunate Numa) 
 had the art to derive the Credit of sanctity from the indulgence 
 of an illicit amour. She was, however, considered by the ancient 
 Cambrians as a benignant Spirit— a guardian of the just and holy 
 cause; and with these ideas modern morality cannot reconcile 
 the supposition of an amorous connection. Accordingly she is 
 here represented as a personification of essential purity ; and 
 the Lake assigned as her particular residence, is rendered typical 
 of this, by allusion to the tradition, still popular in the neigh- 
 bourhood, that the Lunvey flows thro' the middle without 
 mingling any part of its waters with those of the Lake itself. 
 
 P. S5. Sc. 2. 1. 17. Civrxv — pronounced cooroo (for the w of 
 the Welsh answers to our double o) is the Cambrian word for Ale. 
 
 P. 44. v. 2. Making Guenever, a daughter of Vortigern, and 
 the object of the incestuous passion with which that tyrant has 
 been stigmatized, is another of those liberties for which, as a Poet, 
 I hope to be pardoned. 
 
 Ibid. Sc. 4. v. 2. Balder 's Steed, with reinless neck. Balder was 
 one of the sons of Woden ; and guided the Horse of the Sun 
 (for the Gods of the Scandinavians were not chariotteers, but 
 equestrians.) He was killed with a branch of mistletoe, by his 
 brother Hoder, thro* the malice of'Lok; and, not dying in bat- 
 tle, descended to the Regions of Kela. 
 
 P. 46. v. 16. The Bird of Peace. The Heitre ; a Bird of calm; 
 the Halcyon of the North. 
 
[ 208 ] 
 
 P. 47. Twin Heights of bleak Fariniock. The double peak of the 
 Beacons, Vans, or heights of Brecknock. 
 
 V. 17. Perchance the Maid, &c. Gna • the Messenger of Frea, 
 and one of the 3 Handmaids or Graces of this northern Venus. 
 
 P. 51. v. 11. Demons of the Sultry Noon. Northern Supersti- 
 tion has its Demons of Noon, as well as its Elves of Night. 
 They are of the male sex, and are an evil and malignant race. 
 Their abode is in Alfheim. St. Bazil recommends us to pray 
 to God some time before noon to avert the danger to be ap- 
 prehended from Demons of this description. 
 
 P. 61. Thee— fire-eyed Seraph / &c. This and the following 
 Ode are addressed to the Tutelary Angel of Albion, or Britain. 
 That the belief of such supernatural Agencies, presiding over 
 different tribes, nations, states, provinces, cities, &c. is a con- 
 sistent part of the christian faith, may be shewn by several pas- 
 sages from the Book of Daniel, and, indeed, from several other 
 parts of the Scriptures. It forms the basis of an essential part 
 of the Machinery of " The Hope of Albion." 
 
 ACT 3. Sc. 2. p. 6*5. v. 12. Sitters three, &c. The Valkyries. 
 See former note. 
 
 Sc. 3. p. 67.1. 20. Three Giants of Frost. I do not know that their 
 number is so limitted. But the erudition of the present speaker 
 may naturally be expected to be somewhat short of his loquacity. 
 The allusions in this Scene have been explained in the preceding 
 notes. 
 
 ACT 3. Sc. 3. p. 70. The Joys of Valhalla. " The heroes," 
 says the Edda, " who are received into the palace of Odin, 
 " have every day the pleasure of arming themselves, &c. and of 
 " cutting one another in pieces ; but as soon as the repast approaches, 
 H they return on horseback, all safe and sound back to the Hall 
 " of Odin, and fall to eating and drinking. Tho the number 
 " of them cannot be counted, the flesh of the boar Serimner is 
 <c sufficient for them all ; every day it is served up at table, and 
 " every day it is renewed again intire ; their beverage is beer 
 " and mead ; one single Goat, whose milk is excellent mead, 
 " furnishes enough of that liquor to intoxicate all the heroes : 
 " their cups are the sculls of enemies they have slain. 
 " A croud of virgins wait upon the heroes, and fill their cups 
 " as fast as they empty them." North. Antiq. Vol. I. p. 120. 
 
 P. 75. v. 14. The Golden Tear. The tears of Frea, the God- 
 dess of love and beauty, are said to be golden ; and Gold, in the 
 language of the Scalds, is called the tears of Frea. When Bal- 
 der was killed, Hela consented to restore him again to the 
 Skies, upon condition that all the Gods should drop a tear of 
 sorrow upon his grave. All the Deities wept, but Lok ; who re* 
 fused ; and Hela kept her victim. 
 
 V. 20. The Herald of thy Will. The Handmaid Gna. 
 
 Printed by W. H. Parker, Hereford,. 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
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