% JU. r-w %:^.^ '.m>^i^i^C;t^ r:^^^^: mm t^ ^-S«^. ^•m.:\:^^^'i FALMYRA. PALMYRA, ANfD OTHER POEMS, T. L. PEACOCK, aacn, SI co.v dpfj^ovioc, xocroicrKsuoc^srai. LONGINUS. LONDON: PRINTED BY T. BENSLEY, BOLT COURT, VOK W. J. AND J. RICHARDSON,, ROYAL EXCHANGE. ]806. CONTENTS^ Page To THE HeVIEWERS V Palmyra 3 Notes on Palmyra 31 The Visions of Love 49 Maria's Return to her Native Cottage 6i FiOLFAR, King of Norway 69 Notes on Fiolfar 89 MISCELLANIES. Henriette 95 The Old Man's Complaint 98 On the Death of C. Pembroke, Esq 101 The Rainbow 103 Ellen 105 The Lord's Prayer, paraphrased lOo Farewell to Matilda 108 M300000 IV CONTENTS. Page Mira 112 Amarillisj from the Pastor Fido 115 Clonar and Tlamin 118 Foldath in the Cavern of Moma 122 Dreams J from Petronius Arbiter 124 Pindar on tlie Edipse of the Sun 126 To a young Lady, netting 129 NUGiE. Levi Moses 133 Slender's Love Elegy 137 A Fragment 140 THE REVIEWERS: A CENTO^ FROM THE WORKS OF SHAKESPEAR. Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors. My very noble and approv'd good masters. With all my love I do commend me to you : And now, good friends, when you shall judgment join In censure of my seeming, I beseech you. Vi TO THE REVIEWERS. Speak of me as I am 3 nothing extenuate. Nor aught set down in malice. Note you this: Time has not sow'd a grizzle on my face: The golden mark I seek to hit, is not To look quite through the deeds of men, and shew The very age and body of the time Its form and pressure. With a simple wreath, CuU'd from the book and volume of my brain, I come before you. Yet alas ! raethinks I hear a voice cry: '' horrible ! most horrible! Ye Gods! how vilely does this cynic rhyme! Oh! he's as tedious as a twice-told tale. Worse than the forc'd gait of a shuffling nag!" Though all that I can do is little worth With your displeasure piec'd, my good intent May cany through itself: no levell'd malice TO THE REVIEWERS. Vll Infects one comma in the course I hold. Under your good correction, if I speed. And my invention thrive, then will I say. Your love deserves my thanks : so farewell^ gentlemen. FAJLMYRA^ ' avaxra rwv 77'a vrwy UTTsf jSaA- KovroL y^^ovov y.'XKCc^cuv. Find. PALMYRA. As the mountain-torrent rages, Loud, impetuous, swift, and strong, So tlie rapid stream of ages Rolls with ceaseless tide along. Man's little day what cloads o'ercast! How soon his longest date is past! All-conqu'ring Death, in solemn state unftirl'd, Comes, hke the burning desert-blast. And sweeps him from the world. The noblest works of human pow'r In vain resist the fate-fraught hour 3 The marble hall, the rock-built tow'r. 4 PALMYRA. Alike submit to destiny : Oblivion's awful storms resound^ * The massy columns fall around 5 t The fabric totters to the ground. And darkness veils it's memory! II. 'Mid Syria's barren world of sand, *^,_. Where Thedmor's marble wastes expand. Where Desolation, on the blasted plain. Has fix'd his adamantine throne, I mark, in silence and alone. His melancholy reign. These silent wrecks, more eloquent than speech. Full many a tale of awful note impart j Truths more sublime than bard or sage can teach "-"--This pomp of iiiia presses on the heart. Whence rose tliat dim, mysterious sound. That breath'd in hollow murmui's round? PALMYRA. As sweeps the gale Along the vale, - Where many a mould'ring tomb is spread. Awe-struck, I hear. In fancy's ear. The voices of th' illustrious dead : As slow they pass along, they seem to sigh, Man, and the works of man, are only born to die !' III. As scatter' d round, a dreary space. Ye spirits of the wise and just! In reverential tliought I trace The mansions of your sacred dust. Enthusiast Fancy, rob'd in light. Pours on the air her many-sparkling rays. Redeeming from Oblivion's deep'ning night The deeds of ancient days. G PALMYRA. The mighty forms of chiefs of old. To Virtue dear, and Patriot Truth sublime. In feeble splendor I behold. Discover' d dimly through the mists of Time, As through the vapours of the mountain-stream With pale reflection glows the sun's declining beam. IV. Still as twilight's mantle hoary Spreads progressive on the sky, See^ in visionary gloiy, Darkly-thron'd, they sit on high. But whose the forms, oh Fame, declare. That crowd majestic on the air ? Bright Goddess ! come, on rapid wings. To tell the mighty deeds of kings. Where art thou, Fame ? Each honor' d name PALMYRA. From thy eternal roll unfold : Awake the lyre_, In songs of lire. To chiefs renown'd in days of old. I call in vain ! The welcome strain Of praise to them no more shall sound : Their actions bright Must sleep in night. Till Time shall cease his mystic round. The dazzling glories of their day The stream of years has swept away 3 Their names, that struck the foe with fear^ Shall ring no more on mortal ear ! V. Yet faithful Memory's raptur'd eye Can still the godlike form descry. 8 PALMYUA. Of him^ who, on Euphrates' shore, From Sapor's brow his blood-stain'd laurels tore. And bade the Roman banner stream unfurl'dj When the stern Genius of the startling waves Beheld on Persia's host of slaves ■ Tumultuous ruin hurl'd! Meek Science too, and Taste refin'd. The grave with deathless flow'rs have dress'd. Of him whose virtue-kindling mind Their ev'ry charm supremely bless'dj Who trac'd the mazy warblings of the lyre With all a critic's art, and all a poet's fire. VI. Where is the bard, in these degen'rate days. To whom the muse the blissful meed awards. Again the dithyrambic song to raise. And strike the golden harp's responsive chords? PALMYRA. y Be his alone the song to swell. The all-transcendent praise to tell Of yon immortal form. That bursting through the veil of years. In changeless majesty appears, Brightas the sun-beams thro' the scatt'ring storm ! What countless charms around her rise ! What dazzling splendor sparkles in her eyes ! On her radiant brow enshrin'd, Minerva's beauty blends with Juno's grace j The matchless virtues of her godlike mind Are stamp' d conspicuous on her angel-face. VII. Hail, sacred shade, to Nature dear! Though sorrow clos'd thy bright career. Though clouds obscur'd thy setting day, Thy fame shall never pass away ! 10 PALMYRA. Long shall the mind's unfading gaze Retrace thy pow'r's meridian blaze. When o'er Arabian deserts, vast and wild. And Egypt's land, (where Reason's wakeful eye First on the birth of Art and Science smil'd. And bade the shades of mental darkness fly) And o'er Assyria's many-peopled plains. By Justice led, thy conqu'ring armies pour'd. When humbled nations kiss'd thy silken chains. Or fled dismay'd from Zabdas' victor-sword : Yet vain the hope to share the purple robe. Or snatch from Roman arms tlie empire of the globe. VIII. Along the wild and wasted plain His vet'ran bands tlie Roman monarch led. And roU'd his burning wheels o'er heaps of slain : PALMYRA. 11 The prowling chacal heard afar The devastating yell of war. And rush'd, with gloomy howl, to banquet on the dead ! For succour to Palmyra's walls Her tremW-ng subjects fled, confounded, But wide amid her regal halls The whirling fires resounded. Onward the hostile legions pour'd : Nor beauteous youth, nor helpless age. Nor female charms, by savage breasts ador'd. Could check the Roman's barb'rous rage. Or blunt the murd'rous sword. Loud, long, and fierce, the voice of slaughter roar'd The night-shades fell, the work of death was o'er. Palmyra's sun had set, to rise no more! 12 PALMYRA. X. What mystic form, uncoutli and dread, *"-- ' With wither'd cheek, and hoaiy head. Swift as the death-fire cleaves the sky. Swept on sounding pinions by ? 'Twas Time: I know the Foe of KingSj His scythe, and sand, and eagle wings : He cast a burning look around. And wav'd his bony hand, and frown'd. Far from the spectre's scowl of lire Fancy's feeble forms retire. Her air-born phantoms melt away. Like stars before the rising day. XI. Yes, all are flown ! I stand alone. At ev'ning's calm and pensive hour, PALMYKA. 13 *">-« — --"Mid wasted domes, jv.,«-.^- .-And mould'ring tombs. The wrecks of vanity and pow'r. One shadowy tint enwraps the plain j No form is near^ no sounds intrude. To break the melancholy reign Of silence and of solitude. How oft, in scenes like these, since Time began, Widi downcast eye has Contemplation trod. Far from the haunts of Folly, Vice, and Man, To hold sublime communion with her God! How oft, in scenes like these, the pensive sage Has mourn'd the hand of Fate, severely just. War's wasteful course, and Death's unsparing rage. And dark Oblivion, frowning in the dust! Has mark'd the tombs, that kings o'erthrown declare. Just wept their fall, and sunk to join them there! i4 PALMYRA. XII. In yon proud fane, majestic in decay. How oft of old the swelling hymn arose. In loud thanksgiving to the Lord of Day, Or pray'r for vengeance on triumphant foes ! 'Twas there, ere yet Aurelian's hand / -Had kindled Ruin's smould'ring brand. As slowly mov'd the sacred choir Around the altar's rising lire. The priest, with wild and glowing eye, Bade the flow'r-bound victim dicj And while he fed the incense-flame, "With many a holy mystery. Prophetic inspiration came To teach th' impending destiny. And shook his venerable frame With most portentous augury! PALMYRA. 1.5 In notes of angxiish, deep and slow_, He told the coming hour of woej The youths and maids, with terror pale^, In breathless torture heard the tale, And silence hung On ev'ry tongue. While thus the voice prophetic rung : XIII. " Whence was the hollow scream of fear. Whose tones appall'd my shrinking ear? Whence was the modulated cry. That seem'd to swell, and hasten by? What sudden blaze illum'd the night ? Ha! 'twas Destruction's meteor-light! Whence was the whirlwind's eddying breath ? Ha ! 'twas the fiery blast of De ath ! 16 PALMYRA. XIV. '^ See! the mighty God of Battle Spreads abroad his crimson train ! Discord's myriad voices rattle O'er the terror-shaken plain. Banners stream, and helmets glare, Show' ring arrows hiss in airj Echoing through the darken' d skies. Wildly-mingling murmurs rise. The clash of splendor-beaming steel. The buckler ringing hollowly. The cymbal's silver-sounding peal, The last deep groan of agony. The hurrying feet Of wild retreat. The length' ning shout of victory! PALMYRA. 17 XV. O'er our plains the vengeful stranger Pours, with hostile hopes elate : Who shall check tlie coming danger? Who escape the coming fate ? Thou ! that through the heav'ns afar. When the shades of night retire. Proudly roll'st tliy shining car. Clad in sempiternal fire ! Thou ! from whose benignant light Fiends of darkness, strange and fell. Urge their ebon-pinion' d flight To the central caves of hell ! * Sun ador'd! attend our call ! Must tliy favor' d people fall ? Must we leave our smiling plains. To groan beneath the stranger's chains ? 18 PALMYRA. Rise, supreme in heav'nly pow'r. On our foes destruction show'r^ Bid thy fatal arrows fly. Till their armies sink and die j Through their adverse legions spread Pale DISEASE, and with'ring dread. Wild confusion's fev'rish glare. Horror, madness, and despair! XVI. *' Woe to thy numbers fierce and rude. Thou madly-rushing multitude. Loud as the tempest tliat o'er ocean raves ! Woe to the nations proud and sti-ong. That rush tumultuously along. As rolls the foaming stream its long-resounding waves ! As the noise of mighty seas. As tlie loudly-murmuring breeze. PALMYRA. 19 Shall gath'ring nations rush, a pow'rful band: Rise^ God of Light, in burning wrath severe. And stretchy to blast their proud career. Thy arrow-darting hand! Then shall their ranks to certain fate be giv'n. Then on their course Despair her fires shall cast. Then shall they fly, to endless ruin driv'n. As flies the thistle-down before the mountain-blast! XVII. " Alas ! in vain, in vain we call ! The stranger triumphs in our fall ! And Fate comes on, with ruthless frown^ To strike Palmyra's splendor down. Urg'd by the steady breath of Time, The desert- whirlwind sweeps sublime. The eddying sands in mountain-columns rise : Borne on the pinions of the gale. 20 PALMYRA. In one concenter' d cloud they sail^ Along the darken'd skies. It falls! it falls! on Thedmor's walls ^^,»._.. The whelming weight of ruin falls ! Th' avenging thunder-bolt is hmi'd,, Her pride is blotted from the world. Her name unknown in story : The trav'Uer on her scite shall stand. And seek^ amid the desert-sand. The records of her glory ! Her palaces are crush'd, her tow'rs o'erthrown. Oblivion follows stern, and marks her for his own !' XVIII. How oft, the festal board around. These time-worn walls among, Has rung the full symphonious sound Of rapture-breathing song ! PALMYRA. 21 Ah ! little thought the wealthy proud^ When rosy pleasure laugh' d aloud. That here, amid their ancient land. The wand'rer of the distant days Should mark, with sorrow-clouded gaze. The mighty wilderness of sandj While not a sound should meet his ear. Save of the desert-gales that sweep. In modulated murmurs deep, "'"""" The wasted graves above. Of those who once had revell'd here. In happiness and love ! XIX. Short is the space to man assign'd This earthly vale to tread j He wanders, erring, weak, and blind. By adverse passions led. 22 PALMYRA. LovE^ the balm of ev'ry woe_, The dearest blessing man can knowj Jealousy^ whose pois'nous breath Blasts affection's op'ning bud 3 Stern Despair,, that laughs in death; Black Revenge, that bathes in blood; FeaR;, that his form in darkness shrouds. And trembles at the whisp'ring air; And Hope, that pictures on the clouds Celestial visions, false, but fair; All rule by turns : To-day he burns With ev'ry pang of keen disti'ess; To-morrow's sky Bids sorrow fly Witli dreams of promis'd happiness. PALMYRA. 23 XX. From the earliest twilight-ray. That mark'd Creation's natal day. Till yesterday's declining fire. Thus still have roll'd, perplex'd by strife. The many-clashing wheels of life. Aid still shall roll, till Time's last beams expire. Aid thus, in ev'ry age, in ev'ry clime. While circling years shall fly, TIb varying deeds that mark the present time tVill be but shadows of the days gone by. XXI. ilong the desolated shore, "Where, broad and swift, Euphrates flows, Tb trav'ller's anxious eye can trace no more "he spot where once the auEEN of cities rose. Whre old Peksepolis sublimely tow'r'd, 24 PALMYRA, In cedar-groves embow'r'd, — _,A rudely- splendid \vreck alone remains. The course of Fate no pomp or pow'r can slun. r*^"" '-Pollution tramples on thy giant-fanes^ Oh City of the Sun! Fall'n are the Tyrian domes of wealth andjoy^ The hundred gates of Th e b e s , the to w'rs of Ik o y j In shame and sorrow pre-ordain' d to cease. Proud Salem met th' irrevocable doomj In darkness sunk the arts and arms of Gree there we see them ranged in rows of such length, that similar to D $4 ' NOTES. rows of trees, they deceive the sight, and assume the appearance of continued walls. If from this striking scene we cast our eyes upon the ground, another, al- miost as varied, presents itself^ on all sides we be- hold nothing but subverted shafts, some entire, others shattered to pieces, or dislocated in their joints j and on which side soever we look, the earth is strewed with vast stones half buried, with broken entabla- tures, damaged capitals, mutilated frizes, disfigured reliefs, effaced sculptures, violated tombs, and altars defiled by dust. — Volney's Travels in Syria. Stanza 2. Line 2. Thedmor's marble wastes. Or, at the purple dawn of day, Tadmor's marble wastes survey. Grainger, Of several ancient ways of writing this name, the ^e$i/.o§ of the Alexandiian copy comes nearest to tlie pronunciation of die present Arabs. — "Wood, I have adopted this pronunciation, as more poetical than Tedmor or Tadmor. NOTES. 35 St. 5. L. 2. Can still the godlike form descry. At tlie time when the East trembled at the name of Sapor, he received a present not unworthy of the greatest kings j a long train of camels, laden with the most rare and valuable merchandises. The rich oifering was accompanied by an epistle, respectful but not ser\ale, from Odenathus, one of the noblest and most opulent senators of Palmyra. '' Who is this Odenathus" (said the haughty victor, and he commanded that the presents should be cast into the Euphrates), '^ that he thus insolently presumes to write to his lord ? If he entertain a hope of mitigating his punishment, let him fall prostrate before the foot of our throne, with his hands bound behind his back. Should he hesitate, swift destruction shall be poured on his head, on his whole race, and on his country." The desperate extremity to which the Palmyrenian was reduced, called into action all tlie latent powers of his soul. He met Sapor j but he met him in arms. Infusing his own spirit into a little army, col- 36 NOTES. lected from the villages of Syria^ and the tents of the desertj he hovered round the Persian host, harassed their retreat, carried oif part of the treasure, and, what was dearer than any treasure, several of tlie women of the Great King, who was at last obliged to repass the Euphrates, with some marks of haste and confusion. By this exploit, Odenathus laid the foundation of his future fame and fortunes. The majesty of Rome, oppressed by a Persian, was pro- tected by a Syrian or Arab of Palmyra. — Gibbon. St. 5. L. 11. Of him whose virtue-kindling mind. Longinus. St. 6. L. 11. What countless charms around her rise! Aurehan had no sooner secured the person and provinces of Tetricus, than he turned his arms against Zenobia, the celebrated queen of Palmyra and the East. Modem Europe has produced several illus- trious women who have sustained with glory the NOTES. 37 weight of empire, nor is our own age destitute of such distinguished characters. But Zenobia is per- haps the only female, whose superior genius broke through the serv^ile indolence imposed on her sex by the climate and manners of Asia. She claimed her descent from the Macedonian kings of Egypt, equalled in beauty her ancestor Cleopatra, and far surpassed that princess in chastity and valour, Zenobia was esteemed tlie most lovely, as well as the most heroic of her sex. She was of a dark complexion (for in speaking of a lady these trifles become important). Her teeth were of a pearly whiteness, and her large black eyes sparkled with uncommon fire, tempered by the most attractive sweetness. Her voice was strong and harmonious. Her manly understanding was strengthened and adorned by study. She was not ignorant of the Latin tongue, but possessed in equal perfection the Greek, the Syriac, and the Egyptian languages. She had drawn up for her own use an epitome of oriental history, and fimiliarly 38 NOTES. compared the beauties of Homer and Plato^ under the tuition of the sublime Longinus. — Gibbon. If we add to this her uncommon strength, and consider her excessive military fatig-ues, for she used no carriage, generally rode, and often marched on foot three or four miles with her army^ aijd if we at the same time suppose her haranguing her soldiers, which she used to do in a helmet, and often with her arms bare, it will give us an idea of that severe character of masculine beauty, which puts one more in mind of Minerva than Venus. — Wood. St. 7. L. 14. Zabdas. Zenobia's general. St. 7. L. 15. Yet vain the hope to share the purple robe. From the time of Adrian to that of Aurelian, for about 140 years, this city continued to flourish, and increase in wealth and power, to that degree, that JfOTES. 39 when the Emperor Valerian was taken prisoner by Sapor, King of Persia, Odenathus, one of the Lords of this town, was able, whilst Gallienus neglected his duty both to his father and his country, to bring a powerful army into the field, and to recover Meso- .potamia from the Persians, and to penetrate as far as their capital city Ctesiphon. Thereby rendering so considerable a service to the Roman state, that Gal- lienus thought himself obliged to give him a share in the empire : of which action Trebellius Pollio, in the Life of Gallienus, has these words : Laudatur ejus (Gallieni) optimum factum, qui Odenatum partici- pato imperio Augustum vocavit, ejusque monetam, quce Persas captos traheret, cudi jussit; quod et Se- natus et Urbs et omnis cetas gratanter accepit. The same, in many places, speaks of this Odenathus with great respect 3 and mentioning his death, he says : Ira- tumfuisse Deum Reipuhlicce credo, qui interfecto Va- Jeriano noluit Odenatum reservare. But by a strange reverse of fortune, this honor and respect to Odenn- 40 NOTES. thus occasioned the sudden ruin and subversion of the city. For he and his son Herodes being mur- dered by Maeonius, their kinsman, and dying with the title of Augustus, his wife Zenobia, in right of her son Vaballathus tlien a minor, pretended to take upon her the government of the east, and did admi- nister it to admiration : and when, soon after, Gal- lienus was murdered by his soldiers, she grasped the government of Egypt, and held it during the short reign of the Emperor Claudius Gothicus. But Au- relian, coming to the imperial dignity, would not suffer the title of Augustus in this family, tliough he was contented that they should hold under him as vice Ccesaris, as plainly appears by the Latin coins, of Aurelian on the one side, and Vaballathus on the other, with tliese letters, V. C. R. IM. ORj wdiich P. Harduin has most judiciously interpreted. Vice C^SARis Rector Imperii Orientis, without the title of Caesar or Augustus, and with a laurel in- stead of a diadem. But both Vaballatlius and Zenc- NOTES. 41 bia are styled SEBASTOI in the Greek coins, made, it is probable, within tlieir own jurisdiction. But notliing less than a participation of the em- pire contenting Zenobia, and Aurelian persisting not to have it dismembered, he marched against her ; and having in two battles routed her forces, he shut her up and besieged her in Palmyra, and tlie besieged finding that the great resistance they made availed not against that resolute emperor, they yielded tlie town ; and Zenobia flying with her son was pursued and taken 3 witli which Aurelian being contented spared the city, and marched for Rome with this cap- tive ladyj but tlie inhabitants, believing he would not return, set up again for tliemselves, and, as Vo- piscus has it, slew the garrison he had left in tlie place. Which Aurelian understanding, tliough by tliis time he was gotten into Europe, witli his usual fierceness, speedily returned, and collecting a suffi- cient army by the way, he again took the city with- out any great opposition, and put it to the sword .42 NOTES with uncommon cruelty (as he himself confesses in a letter extant in Vopiscus), and delivered it to the pillage of his soldiers,— Philosophical Trans- actions. St. 9. L. 6. Nor beauteous youth nor helpless age. The following is the letter of Aurelian above al- luded to : Aurelianus Augustus Ceionio Basso : Non oportet ulterius progredi militum gladios, jam satis Palmyrenorum caesum atque occisum est. Mii- lierilus non pepercimuSf infantes occidimus, senes jugulavimus, rusticos interemimus, cui terras, cui urbem, deinceps relinquemus ? Parcendum est iis qui remanserunt. Credimus enim paucos tarn multo- rum suppliciis esse correctos, Templum sane solis, quod apud Palmyram aquilifer Icgionis tertiae cum vexilliferis et draconario cornicinibus atque liticinibus diripuerunt, ad earn formam volo, quae fiiit, reddi. Habes trecentas auri libras Zenobiae capsulis : habes argenti mille octingenta pondo e Palmyrenorum NOTES. 43 1301113: habes gemmas regias. Ex his omnibus fac cohonestari templum : mihi et diis immortalibus gra- tissimiim feceris. Ego ad Senatum scribairi;, petens ut mittet pontificem^ qui dedicet templum. St. 12, L. 1. In yon proud fane. Architecture more especially lavished her orna- ments, and displayed her magnificence, in the temple of the sun, the tutelar deity of Palmyra. The square court which enclosed it was six hundred and seventy- nine feet each way, and a double range of columns extended all round the inside. In the middle of the vacant space, the temple presents anotlier front of forty-seven feet by one hundred and twenty-four in depth, and around it runs a peristyle of one hundred and forty columns. — Volney. St. 16. L. 1. Woe to thy numbers fierce and rude. Woe to the multitude of many people, that make a noise like the noise of the seas, and to the 44 NOTES. rushing of nations, that make a rushing hke tlie rushing of mighty waters! The nations shall msh like the rushing of many waters j but God shall re- buke them, and they shall flee far off, and shall be chased as the chaff of the mountains before the wind, and like a rolling thing before the whirlwind. Isaiah, c, xvii. St. 21. L. 4. The queen of cities. Babylon. St. 21. L. 10. Oh City of the Sun! Balbec,theHELioPOLis of tlieGreeks and Romans. St. 23. L. 4. Again the sun-beams gild the plain. Let clouds rest on the hills, spirits fly, and tra- vellers fear. Let the winds of the woods arise, tlie sounding storms descend. Roar streams, and win- dows flap, and green-winged meteors fly; rise the pale moon from behind her hills, or enclose her head NOTES. 45 in clouds; night is alike to me^ blue, stormy, or gloomy the sky. Night flies before the learn, when it is poured on the hill. The young day returns from his clouds, hut we return no more. Where are our chiefs of old? Where our kings of mighty name? The fields of their battles are silent; scarce their mossy tombs remain. We shall also be forgotten. This lofty house shall fall. Our sons shall not behold the ruins in grass. They shall ask of the aged, " Where stood tlie walls of our fa- thers?" — See the beautiful little poem of The Bards in the notes on Ossian's Croma. Raise, ye bards, said the mighty Fingal, the praise of unhappy Moi na. Call her ghost, with your songs, to our hills; that she may rest with the fair of MoRVEN, tlie sun-beams of other days, and tlie delight of heroes of old. I have seen the walls of Balclutha, but they were desolate. The fire had 46 NOTES. resounded in the halls: the voice of the people was heard no more. The stream of Clutha was re- moved from its place, by the fall of the walls. The thistle shook, there, its lonely head : the moss whistled to the wind. The fox looked out from tlie windows, tlie rank grass of the wall waved round his head. Desolate is the dwelling of Mo in a., silence is in the house of her fathers. Raise the song of mourning, oh bards, over the land of strangers. They have but fallen before us: for, one day, we must fall. Why dost thou build the hall, son of the winged days ? Thou lookest from thy towers to-day ; yet a few years, and the blast of the desert comes 5 it howls in thy empty court, and whistles round thy half-worn shield. — Ossian. THE VISIONS OF LOVE. Senza I'amabile Dio di Citera, I di non tornano Di primavera ; Non spira un zeffiro, Non spunta un fior, Metastasio. THE VISIONS OF LOVE. To chase the clouds of life's tempestuous hours. To strew its short but weary way with flow'rs. New hopes to raise, new feelings to impart. And pour celestial balsam on the heart j For this to man was lovely woman giv'n. The last, best work, the noblest gift of Heav'n. At Eden's gate, as ancient legends say. The flaming sword for ever bars the way 5 Not ours to taste the joys our parents shar'd. But pitying Nature half our loss repair' d. Our wounds to heal, our murmurs to remove. She left mankind the paradise of Love. 50 THE VISIONS OF LOVE. All-conqu'ring Love ! thy pow'rfiil reign surrounds Man's wildest haunts^ and earth's remotest bounds : Alike for thee th' untainted bosom glows 'Mid eastern sands and hyperborean snows : Thy darts unerring fly with strong controul. Tame the most stern^ and nerve the softest soul. Check the swift savage of the sultry zone. And bend the monarch on his glitt'ring throne. When wakeful Memory bids the mind explore The half-hid deeds of years that are no more. How few the scenes her hand can picture there Of heart-felt bliss untroubled by a care ! Yet many a charm can pow'rful Fancy raise. To point the smiling path of future days -, There too will Hope her genial influence blend. Faithless, but kind) a flatt'rer, but a friend. THE VISIONS OF LOVE. 51 But most to cheer the lover's lonely hours. Creative Fancy wakes her magic pow'rsj Most strongly pours, by ardent love refin'd. Her brightest visions on the youthful mind. Hence, when at eve with lonely steps I rove The flow'r-enamell'd plain or dusky grove. Or press tlie bank with grassy tufts o'erspread. Where the brook murmurs o'er its pebbly bed ) Then steals thy form, Rosalia, on my sight. In artless charms pre-eminently bright: By Hope inspir'd, my raptur'd thoughts engage To trace the lines of Fate's mysterious page 3 At once in air, tlie past, the present, fadej In fairy-tints the future stands display'dj No clouds arise, no shadows intervene. To veil or dim the visionary scene. 52 THE VISIONS OF LOVE. Within the sacred altar's mystic shade, I see tliee stand, in spotless white array'd; I hear tliee there tliy home, thy name resign, I hear the awful vow that seals thee mine. Not on my birth propitious Fortune smil'd. Nor proud Ambition mark'd me for her child j For me no dome witli festal splendor shines; No pamper'd lacquies spread their length'ning lines; No venal crowds my nod obsequious wait; No summer-friends besiege my narrow gate; Joys such as these, if joys indeed they be. Indulgent Nature ne'er design'd for me: I ask them not: she play'd a kinder part: She gave a nobler gift, Rosalia's heart. The simple dwelling, by affection rear'd; The smiling plains, by calm content endear'd : THE VISIONS OF LOVE. 53 The classic book-case, deck'd with learning's store. Rich in historic truth, and bardic lore 3 The garden-walks, in Nature's liv'ry dress'dj Will these suffice to make Rosalia bless'd? And will she never feel a wish to roam Beyond the limits of our rural home ? How sweet, when Spring has crown'd, by genial show'rs. The woods with verdure, and the fields with flow'rs^ When fleeting Summer holds his burning reign. Or fruitfiil Autumn nods with golden grain^ With thee, dear girl, each well-known path to tread. Where blooming shrubs their richest odors shed. With thee to mark the seasons' bright career. The varied blessings of the rip'ning year. 54 THE VISIONS OF LOVE. When frost-crown'd Winter binds the earth in chains. And pours his snow-storms on tlie whit'ning plains. Then shall the pow'r of constant Love be found. To chase the deep'ning gloom that low'rs around. Beside the cheerful fire's familiar blaze. Shall Memory trace the deeds of long-past days 5 Of those propitious hours when first I strove To win thy gentle ear with tales of love. When, while thy angel-blushes half-conceal'd The kind consent thy bashfiil smiles reveal'd. From those bright eyes a soft expression stole. That spoke the silent language of tlie soul. Or haply then the poet's song may cheer The dark death-season of th' accomplish'd year: THE VISIONS OF LOVE. 55 Together then we'll roam the sacred plain^ Where the bright Nine in ceaseless glory reign 3 By Homer led, tlirough Trojan battles sweeps With Virgil cleave the tempest-beaten deepj Trace the bold flights of Shakespear's muse of fire j Strike the wild chords of Gray's enraptur'd lyre; From Milton learn with holy zeal to glow 3 Or weep with Ossian o'er a tale of woe. Nor less shall Music charm: her pow'r sublime Shall oft beguile the ling' ring steps of Time : Then, as I watch, while my Rosalia sings. Her seraph fingers sweep the sounding strings. In soft response to sorrow's melting lay, - Or joy's loud swell, that steals our cares away. My heart shall vibrate to the heav'nly sound. And bless the stars our mutual fates tliat bound. 56 THE VISIONS OF LOVE. And oft, when darkness veils the stormy skies. Beneath our roof shall Friendship's voice arise j On ev'ry breast her sacred influence pour'd. Shall crown with gen'rous mirth our social board 3 The chosen few, to Taste and Virtue dear. Shall meet a welcome, simple, but sincere. Not from our door, his humble pray'r denied. The friendless man shall wander unsupplied 5 Ne'er shall the wretch, whom fortune's ills assail. Tell there in vain his melancholy talc : Thy heart, where Nature's noblest feelings glow. Will throb to heal the bending stranger's woe; On mercy's errand wilt thou oft explore The crazy dwellings of the neighb'ring poor. To blunt the stings of want's unsparing rage. To smooth the short and painful path of age. THE VISIONS OF LOVE; 57' The childless widow's drooping head to raise. And cheer her soul with hopes of better days : For thee the pray'r affliction's child shall frame. And lisping orphans bless Rosalia's name. Soon shall new objects thy affection share. New hopes, new duties claim Rosalia's care. How will thy anxious eye exulting trace The charms and virtues of thy infant-race! Thy tender hand with sense and taste refin'd Shall stamp each impulse of the rip'ning mind. And early teach their little steps to stray Through Virtue's paths,andWisDOM'sflow'ry way. Thus may our lives in one smooth tenor flow j Possess' d of thee, I ask no more below. 58 THE VISIONS OF LOVE. That constant love, which bless'd with genial rays The bright and happy spring-time of our days. Shall still dispel the clouds of woe and strife From the full summer of progressive life. The hand of Time may quench the ardent fire Of rising passion, and of young desire j But that pure flame esteem first taught to burn Can only perish in the silent urn. And when the last, the solemn hour draws near. That bids us part from all that charm' d us here. Then on our thoughts the heav'nly hope shall rise. To meet in higher bliss, in better skies. In those bright mansions of the just above. Where all is Rapture, Innocence, and Love. MARIA'S RETURN TO HER NATIVE COTTAGE. Si perda la vita, Finisca il martire ; E meglio morire, Che viver cosi. Metastasio. MARIA'S RETURN. The whit'ning ground In frost is bound j The snow is swiftly falling j While coldly blows the northern breeze. And whistles through the leafless trees^ In hollow sounds appalling. On this cold plain. Now reach'd with pain, - Once stood my father's dwelling: 62 MARIANS RETURN. Where smiling pleasure once was found. Now desolation frowns around. And wintry blasts are yelling. Hope's visions wild My thoughts beguil'd. My earliest days delighting. Till unsuspected treach'ry came. Beneath affection's specious name. The lovely prospect blighting. With many a wile Of blackest guile Did Henry first deceive me: What winning words to him were giv'n ! He swore, by all the pow'rs of Heav'n, That he would never leave me. 6s With fondest Uiith I lov'd the youth : My soul, to guilt a stranger. Knew not, in those too simple hours. That oft beneath the sweetest flow'rs Is couch'd the deadliest danger. With him to roam I fled my homej I burst the bonds of duty 5 I thought my days in joy would rollj But Henry hid a demon's soul Beneatli an angel's beauty! Shall this poor heart E'er cease to smart? Oh never! never! never! 64 Maria's return. Did av'rlce whisper thee, or pride. False Henry ! for a wealthier bride To cast me off for ever ? My sire was poor : No golden store Had he, no earthly treasure : I only could his griefs assuage, • The only pillar of his age. His only source of pleasure. With anguish wild. He miss'd his child. And long in vain he sought her : The fiercest thunder-bolts of heav'n Shall on thy guilty head be driv'n. Thou DISOBEDIENT DAUGHTER! Maria's return. 6.5 I feel his fears, I see his tears, I hear his groans of sadness : My cruel falsehood seal'd his doom : He seems to curse me from the tomb. And lire my brain to madness ! Oh ! keenly blow. While drifts the snow. The cold nocturnal breezes 3 On me the gath'ring snow-flakes rest. And colder grows my friendless breast j My very heart-blood freezes ! 'Tis midnight deep, And thousands sleep. Unknown to guilt and sorrow 5 66 Maria's return. They think not of a wretch like me. Who cannot, dare not, hope to see The rising hght to-morrow! An outcast hurl'd From all the world. Whom none would love or cherish. What now remains to end my woes, Bilt Rere, amid the *d^ep'ni% snows. To lay me down and perish ? Death's icy dart Invades my heart : JustHfiAv'N! all-good! all-seeing! Thy matchless' mercy I implore. When I must wake, to sleep no more, In realms of endless being ! FIOILFAB, KING OF NORWAY. agmina Ferrata vasto diruit impetu. HOR. nOLFAR. I. In the dark-rolling waves at the verge of the west The steeds of Bellinger had hasten'd to rest. While Hkimfax advanc'd through the star-spangled plain. And shook the thick dews from his grey-flowing mane j The moon with pale lustre was shining on high. And meteors shot red down the paths of the sky. By the shore of the ocean Fiolfar reclin'd. Where through the rock-fissures loud- murmur' d the wind. For sweet to his ear was the deep-dashing flow Of the foam- cover' d billows that thunder' d below. 70 FIOLFAR. — '*^ Alas!" he exclaim' d^ " were the hopes of my youth, Though rais'd by affection, unfounded on trutli ? Ye are flown, ye sweet prospects, deceitfully fair. As the light-rolling gossamer melts into airj As the wild-beating ocean, with turbulent roar. Effaces my steps on the sands of the shore ! Thy waters, oh Niord! tumultuously roll. And such are the passions that war in my soul : Thy meteors, oh Norver ! malignantly dart. And such are the death-flames that burn in my heart. NiTALPHA ! my love! on the hill and the plain. In the vale and the wood, have I sought tliee in vain ; Through the nations for thee have I carried afar The sun-shine of peace and the tempests of war; Through danger and toil I my heroes have led. Till hope's latest spark in my bosom was dead! FIOLFAR. 71 Cold, silent^ and dark, are the halls of thy sires. And hush'd are the harps, and extinguish'd the fires j The wild autumn-blast in the lofty hall roars. And the yellow leaves roll through the half-open doors. Nitalpha! when rapture invited thy stay. Did force or inconstancy bear thee away ? Ah, no ! though in vain I thy footsteps pursue, I will not, I cannot, believe thee untme : Perchance thou art doom'd in confinement to moan. To dwell in the rock's dreary caverns alone. And Lok's cruel mandates, while fast thy tears flow, Forbid thy Fiolfar to solace thy woe. Condemn thee unvaiying anguish to bear. And leave me a prey to the pangs of despair."— Ha ! whence were those accents, portentous and dread. Like the mystical tones of the ghosts of the dead, 72 FIOLFAR. In echoes redoubling that rung through the gloom. As the thunder resounds in the vaults of the tomb ? — " FioLFAR !" — He started, and wond'ring descried A sable-clad form standing tall by his side : His soul-piercing eyes as the eagle's were bright. And his raven-hair flow'd on the breezes of night. — ''"Fiolfar!" he cried, *^'' thy affliction forsake : To hope and revenge let thy bosom awake 3 For he, that Nit alpha from liberty tore. Is Lochlin's proud monarch, the bold Yrrodore. Still constant to thee, she the traitor abhorr'd; Haste ! haste ! let thy valor her virtue reward : For her let the battle empurple the plain : In the moment of conquest I meet thee again." — He ceas'd, and Fiolfar beheld him no more 3 Nor long paus'd the youth on the dark-frowning shore FIOLFAR. 73 — " Whate'er be thy nature, oh stranger!" he said, m " Thou hast call'd down the tempest on Yrrodore's »^-: head: The broad-beaming buckler and keen-biting glaive Shall ring and resound on the fields of the brave. And vengeance shall burst, in a death-rolHng flood. And deluge thy altars, Valfandek, with blood!" — 74 FIOLFAR. II. To Loda's dark circle and mystical stone, Witli the grey-gather'd moss of long ages o'ergrown. While the black car of Norver was central in air. Did the harp-bearing bards of Fiolfar repair^ The wild-breathing chords, as they solemnly sung. In deep modulations responsively rungj To the hall of Valhalla, where monarchs repose. The full-swelling war-song symphoniously rose : — " The mountains of Lochlin shall ring with alarms. For tlie heroes of Norway are rising in armsj The heroes of Norway destruction shall pour On the wide-spreading plains of the bold Yrrodore. Valfander ! look down from thy throne in the skies ! Our suppliant songs from thy altar arise : FIOLFAR. 75 Be thou too propitious, invincible Thor! And lend thy strong aid to our banners of war. As the white-beating sti'eam from the rock rushes down , FioL par's young warriors will speed to renown. Ye spirits of chieftains, tremendous in fight ! That dwell with Valfandek in halls of delight; Awhile from your cloud-circled mansions descend ; On the steps of your sons through the batde attend. When the raven shall hover on dark-flapping wing. And the eagle shall feed on tlie foes of our king!" — As full to the wind rose the soul-thrilling tones. Strange murmurs rung wild from the moss-cover' d stones ; The ghosts of the mighty, rejoicing, came forth. And roll'd their thin forms on the blasts of the north ; On hght-flying meteors triumphantly driv'n. They scatter'd their signs from the centre of heav'n 76 FIOLFAR. The skies were all glowing, portentously bright. With strong coruscations of vibrating light : In shadowy forms^ on the long-streaming glare. The insignia of battle shot swift through tlie airj In lines and in circles successively whirl'd. Fantastical arrows and jav'lins were hurl'd. That, flashing and falling in mimic affray. In tlie distant horizon died darkly away. Where a blood- dropping bamier seem'd slowly to sail. And expand its red folds to tlie death- breathing gale. FioLFAR look'd fortli from his time-honor'd halls. Where the trophies of battle emblazon'd the walls : He heard the faint song as at distance it swell'd. And the blazing of ether with triumph beheld 3 He saw the white flames inexhaustibly stream. And he knew that his fathers rode bright on the beam. FIOLFAR. 77 That the spirits of warriors of ages long past Were flying sublime on the wings of the blast. — " Ye heroes'." he cried, " that in clanger arose. The bulwark of friends, and the terror of foes j By Odin with glory eternally crown'dj By valor and virtue for ever renown'd; Like yours may my arm in the conflict be strong. Like yours may my name be recorded in song, And when Hilda and Mista my spirit shall bear The joys of Valhalla with Odin to share. Oh then may you smile on the deeds I have done. And bend forward with joy to acknowledge your son !" 78 FIOLFAR. III. The sword clatter' d fiercely on helm and on shield. For Norway and Lochlin had met in the field j The long lances shiver' d^ the swift arrows flew. The string shrilly twang' d on the flexible yew 3 Rejoicing, the Valkyrs strode through the plain. And guided the death-blow, and singled the slain. Long, long did the virgins of Lochlin deplore The youths whom their arms should encircle no more, For, strong as the whirlwinds the forest that tear. And strew with its boughs the vast bosom of air. The NoRWEYANsboredown with all-conqueringforce. And havoc and slaughter attended their course. FiOLFAR through danger triumphantly trod. And scatter' d confiision and terror abroad ; FIOLFAR. 79 Majestic as Balder, tremendous as Thor, He plung'd in tlie red-foaming torrent of war: Through the thickest of battle he hasten'd at length Where Yr rod ore stood in the pride of his strength: — ^^ Turn, traitor !" he cried, '' thy destruction is nigh ! Thy soul to the regions of Hela shall fly. Where the base and the guilty for ever are toss'd Through Nilfhil's nine worlds of unchangeable frost!"— — ' ' Vain boaster ! no ! never shall Yr r o d o r e yield ! ' ' — But the sword of Fiolfar had shatter'd his shield: Indignantly Yrrodore sprung on the foe. And rear'd his strong arm for a death-dealing blow. But the monarch of Norway impatiently press'd^ And sheath'd tlie bright steel in his enemy's breast. Swift flow'd the black blood, and in anguish he breath'd. Yet he mutter'd these words as expiring he writh'd: 80 FIOLFAR. — *"' And deem'st thou, Fi olfar, the conquest is thine '. No ! victory, glory, and vengeance, are mine ! In triumph I diej thou shalt languish in pain : For ne'er shall Nitalpha delight thee again! The wakeful duekgi the caverns surround. Where in magical slumbers the maiden is bound; Those magical slumbers shall last till the day. When Odin shall summon thy spirit away: Then, then shall she wake to remembrance and pain. To seek her Fiolfar, and seek him in vain. Long years of unvarying sorrow to prove. And weep and lament on the grave of her love ! ' ' — He said, and his guilt-blacken'd spirit went forth. And rush'd to the caves of the uttermost north 3 Still destin'd to roam through the frost-cover 'd plain. Where He la has iix'd her inflexible reign, FIOLFAR. 81 Till the day when existence and nature shall end. When the last fatal twilight on earth shall descend. When Fenris and Lok, by all beings accurst. Their long-galling chains shall indignantly burst. When the trump of Heimdaller the signal shall peal Of the evils Creation is destin'd to feel. And SuRTUR shall scatter his ruin-fraught fire, »■ — And earth, air, and ocean, burn, sink, and expire ! 82 FIOLFAR. IV. Now dreary and dark was the field of the dead^ For Norway had conquer' d, and Lochlin had fled: The hoarse raven croak' d from the blood- streaming ground. Where the dead and the dying lay mingled around : The warriors of Norway were sunk in repose. And rush'd, in idea, again on their foesj Yet lonely and sad did Fiolfar remain Where the monarch of Lochlin had fall' n on the plain ; In the silence of sorrow he lean'd on his spear. For Yrrodore's words echoed still in his ear : When sudden, through twilight, again he descried The sable-clad form standing tall by his side : — "^ Behold me, Fiolfar : my promise I keep : Nitalpha is fetter'd in magical sleep: FIOLFAK. 83 Yet I to thy arms can the maiden restore^ And passion and vengeance shall harm her no more. The monarch of Lochlin, enrag'd at her scorn, Confin'd her in Deuranil's caverns forlorn. Nor dar'd he endeavour, though deeply he sigh'd. By force to obtain what affection denied." — — ^' Strange being ! what art thou ? tliy nature de- clare." — — " The name of Nerimnher from mortals I bear: Mid desolate rocks, in a time-hollow' d cell. At distance from man and his vices I dwell 3 **^"^But, obedient to Odin, I haste from the shade. When virtue afflicted solicits my aid 3 For the mystical art to my knowledge is giv'n. That can check the pale moon as she rolls through the heav'n, , 84 FIOLFAR. Can strike the dark dwellers of Nilfhil with dread. And breathe the wild verse that awakens the dead. My voice can the spells of thy rival destroy : Then follow, Fiolfar! I lead thee to joy!" • As flow'd the deep accents mysterious and stern, Fiolfar felt hope to his bosom return ; He foUow'd the stranger, by vale and by flood. Till they pierc'd the recesses of Deur anil's wood: Through untrodden thickets of ash and of yew. Whose close-twining boughs shut the sky from their view. Slow-toiling they wound, till before them arose The black-yawning caves of Nit alpha's repose. A blue-burning vapor shone dim tlirough the gloom, And roll'd its thin curls round a rude-fashion'd tomb. FIOLFAR. 85 Where the weary duergi, by magic constrain'd. With eyes never closing, their station maintain'd. Loud shouting they rose when the strangers advanc'd. But fear glaz'd their eyes, and they paus'd as entranc'd. While the mighty Nekimnher, in fate-fovor'd hour. Thus breath'd the strong spell that extinguish'd their pow'r : — " By the hall of Valhalla, where heroes repose. And drink beer and mead from the skulls of their foes ; By the virtues of Freyer, and valor of Thor j By the twelve giant-sisters, tlie rulers of war 5 By the unreveal'd accents, in secret express'd, Of old by Valfander to Balder address'dj By the ills which the guilty and dastardly share ; By Hela's dominions of pain and despair ^ By Surtur's wide regions of death-spreading fire; Hence, children of evil! duergi, retire!" — 86 FIOLFAR. The DUERGi with yells made the caverns resound^ As^ reluctantly yielding, they sunk through the ground ; And the youth felt his breast with anxiety swell. While thus the magician concluded the spell : — *"' Fair maid, whom the tomb's dreary confines sur- round. Whom the dark, iron slumber of magic has bound;, Let life and delight re-illumine thine eyes. Arise, star of beauty ! Nitalpha, arise !" — The vapor-flame died in a bright-beaming flash} The tomb burst in twain with an earth-shaking crash : All wonder, Nitalpha arose in her charms. She knew her Fiolfar, she flew to his arms. And he found ev'ry shadow of sorrow depart. As he clasp'd the dear maiden again to his heart. NOTES, NOTES. Though the names of Odin and Thor, the Fatal , Sisters, and the Hall of Valhalla, be familiar to the readers of English poetry, yet, as the minutiae of the Gothic Mythology are not very generally known, I have subjoined a few short explanatory notes, which, though they cannot be expected to afford much insight into the general system, will, I trust, be ^^ sufEcient to enable my readers to comprehend such parts of it, as are alluded to in this poem. JDellinger, — day. Hrimfax, — the steed of the evening twihght. NiORD^ — the God of the sea and wind. NoRVEii, — Night. LoK. — Lok, though he ranked amongst the Scandinavian Deities, had all the attributes of a 90 NOTES. demon. He was the enemy of Gods and Men^ and the author of crimes and calamities. Valfander, — a name of Odin^, the chief of the Gods. To Loda's dark circle, and mystical stone. The Circle of Loda, or Loden^ was a rude circle of stoneS;, used as a place of worship amongst the Scandinavians. Thor^ — the Gothic Mars. ValhallAj — the hall of Odin^ where the spirits of heroes who died in battle di-ank mead and beer from the skulls of their enemies. With strong coruscations of vibrating light. It is well known with what superstitious anxiety the Aurora Borealis was formerly regarded. Igno- rance and credulity readily discerned in its brilliant phenomena the semblance of aerial battles : and it is not surprising, that from such a source the va- NOTES. 91 liant should draw prognostics of victoiy^ and the timid of defeat and destruction. Thus Lucan, in describing the prodigies which preceded the civil Turn ne qua futuri Spes saltern trepidas mentes levet, addita fati Pejoiis manifesta fides, superique minaces Prodigiis terras implerunt, aethera, pontum. Ignota obscurae viderunt sidera noctes, Ardentemque polum flammis, coeloque volantes Obliquas per inane faces, crinemque timendi Sideris, et terris mutantem regna cometen. Fulgura fallaci micuerunt crebra sereno, Et varias ignis tenso dedit acre formas; Nunc jaculum longo, nunc sparso lurnine lampas Emicuit ccelo. Fantastical arrows and jav'lins were hurl'd. The northern lights which appeared at London in 1560 were denominated lurning spears. Hilda and Mjsta, — two of tlie Valkyrse, or fatal sisters. Balder, — the Scandinavian Apollo^ the son of 92 NOTES. Odin. He was the most amiable and beautiful of all the Deities 3 and drove the chariot of the sun, till, being killed by Hoder through the machinations of Lok, he was compelled to fix his residence in the palace of Hela, when his office was transferred to Bellinger. Hela, — the Goddess of Death. She presided over Nilfhil, or Nistheimr, the hell of the Gothic Nations, which was situated in the frozen regions at the north pole. At the south pole was the region of fire, inhabited by Surtur, the enemy of Odin, and his attendant genii and giants, by whom, in tlie twilight of the Gods, the world is to be consumed. DuERGi, — dwarfs. Freyeii, — the son of Niord. I MISCEILILANIES- » I IIENRIETTE. Loud and long the church-bells ringing Spread their signals on tlie air 3 Tow'rds his Ellen lightly springing. Faithless Edward hastens there. Can he dare to wed another? Can he all his vows forget? Can he truth and conscience smother, And desert his Henriette? Pale remorse my steps attending. Whither can I hope to fly? When shall all my woes have ending? Never, never, till I die ! 96 HENRIETTE. Can the youth who once ador'd me. Can he hear without regret, Deatli has that repose restor'd me. He has stol'n from Henriette ? Brightly smiles the summer-morning On my Edward's nuptial day; While the bells, with joyous warning. Call to love and mirth away. How this wretched heart is throbbing ' Ere the ev'ning sun shall set, Deatli shall ease my bosom's sobbing, Death shall comfort Henriette. Cruel youth, farewell for ever ! False as thou hast been to me, HENRIETTE. 97 Ne'er, till Fate my thread shall sever. Can I turn my thoughts from thee. Guilt and shame tliy soul enslaving. Thou mayst weep and tremble yet. When thou seest the willow waving O'er the grave of Henriette! THE OLD MAN^S COMPLAINT. On Eternity's confines I stand. And look back on the paths I have trod : I pant for the summoning hand^ That shall call me away to my God! My temples are sprinkled with snow ; The sands of existence decline ; The dwelling is cheerless and low. The dwelling that soon must be mine. THE OLD man's COMPLAINT. 99 No longer beside me are found The forms that of old were so dear 5 No longer the voices resound. That once were so sweet to mine ear. The wife of my bosom is lost^ Long, long, has she sunk into sleep : My boy on the ocean was toss'd. He rests in the caves of the deep. A villain my daughter betray' d 3 Her home and her father she fled : But Heav'n has in justice repaid The tears he has cans' d me to shed. 100 THE OLD man's COMPLAINT. Her peace and her honor he stole ; Abandon' d, despairing, she died : Remorse quickly seiz'd on his soul. And he rests in the grave by her side. Oh ! where are the friends of my youth. The lovely, the good, and the brave? All flown to the mansions of Truth ! AJl pass'd through the gates of the grave ! On parents, and children, and friends. Have mortality's arrows been driv'nj But swiftly the darkness descends. And my spirit shall join them in Heav'n ! ON THE DEATH OF CHARLES PEMBROKE, ESQ. Where yon green tombs their heads promiscuous raise. With tearful eyes let Friendship mark the spot Where Pembroke slumbers. Upright and sincere. For public worth esteem'd, for private lov'd. Approving Virtue smil'd upon his life. And soft eyed sorrow consecrates his urn. Above that spot where rests his honour'd dust. The sportive child may spend his idle houi's. Unthinking that the silent form below Was once like him, hke him was wont to play. Unknown to care. Thrice happy innocent! Thou too shalt fall, and on tliy humble grave 102 CHARLES PEMBROKE, ESQ. Another child, unthinking as thyself. Light as the lark, and rosy as the morn. Shall frolic in his turn. Thus 'tis witli man : Like Autumns leaves the present race decays, — •— Another race succeeds. But after death Shall Virtue live, and live to die no more. In better climes, from mortal eyes retir'd. There, Pembroke, there thy sainted spirit dwells. In everlasting rest 5 there, far remov'd From all the troubles of the world, enjoys The sure reward of goodness here below. Eternal, boundless happiness above. THE RAIN-BOW. 1 HE day has pass'd in storms, though not unmix'd With transitory calm. The western clouds. Dissolving slow, unveil the glorious sun. Majestic in decline. The wat'ry east Glows with the many-tinted arch of Heav'n. We hail it as a pledge that brighter skies Shall bless the coming morn. Thus rolls the day. The short dark day of life ^ with tempests thus. And fleeting sun-shine chequer' d. At its close. When the dread hour draws near, that bursts all ties, All commerce with the world. Religion pours 104 THE RAIN-BOW. Hope's fairy-colors on the virtuous mind. And, like the rain-bow on the ev'ning clouds. Gives the bright promise that a happier dawn Shall chase the night and silence of the grave. I ELLEN. 1 HE marble tomb, in sculptur'd state display' d^ Decks the vile earth where wealthy vice is laid; But no vain pomp its hollow splendor throws. Where Beauty, Virtue, Innocence, repose. The cypress tow'rs, the waving willows weep. Where Ellen sleeps the everlasting sleep. Where with a sigh the passing stranger sees The long rank grave-grass bending in the breeze. THE LORD'S PRAYER, PARAPHRASED. A. JE. 16. -t A THE R of all ! who dwell'st above I Thy praises we proclaim : To thee be endless fear and love j All-hallow'd be thy name. Thy kingdom come : thy will be done On earth_, as 'tis in Heav'n: In ev'ry realm beneath the sun. To thee be glory giv'n. THE LOKD's PHAYER. 107 Grant us, oh tliou who cloth' st the field! This day our daily bread : As we to others mercy yield. On us thy mercy shed. Permit not in temptation's road Our heedless steps to strays Free us from evil's dire abode. And guide us on our way. For ever above all to tow'r. For ever bright to shine. Thine is the kingdom, thine the pow'r. And endless glory thine. FAREWELL TO MATILDA. Oui, pour jamais Chassons I'image De la volage Que j'adorais. Parny. JMatilda, farewell! Fate has doom'd us to part. But the prospect occasions no pang to my heart ; No longer is love with my reason at strife. Though once thou wert clearer, far dearer than life. As together we roam'd, I the passion confess' d. Which thy beauty and virtue had rais'd in my breast j That the passion was mutual thou mad'st me believe. And I thought ?)iy Matilda could never deceive. FAREWELL TO MATILDA. 109 My Matilda! no, false one! my claims I resign: Thou canst not, thou must not, thou shalt not be mine : I now scorn thee as much as I lov'd thee before. Nor sidi when I think I shall meet thee no more. Though fair be thy form, thou no lovers wilt find^ While folly and falsehood inhabit tliy mind. Though coxcombs may flatter, though ideots may prize. Thou art shunn'd by the good, and contemn'd by the wise. Than mine what affection more fervent could be. When I thought ev'ry virtue was center'd in thee ? Of the vows thou hast broken I will not complain. For I mourn not the loss of a heart I disdain. 110 FAREWELL TO MATILDA. Oh ! hadst thou but constant and amiable prov'd As ihdit fancied perfectioji I formerly lov'd. Nor absence^ nor time, though supreme their controul. Could have dimm'd the dear image then stamp'd on my soul. How bright were the pictures, untinted with shade. By Hope's glowing pencil on Fancy pourtray'd! Sweet visions of bliss ! which I could not retain j For they, like thyself, were deceitful and vain. Some other, perhaps, to Matilda is dear. Some other, more pleasing, though not more sincere^ May he fix thy light passions, now wav'ring as air, Then leave tliee, inconstant, to shame and despair ! FAREWELL TO MATILDA. HI Repent not, Matilda, return not to me: Unavailing thy grief, thy repentance will be : In vain will thy vows or thy smiles be resum'd. For Love, once extinguish' d, is never relum'd* MIRA. 15en"eath yon yew-tree's silent shade> Long, tufted grass the spot discloses, Where^ low in death untimely laid^ Pale Mira's silent form reposes. The plaintive bird, at ev*ning-close. Pours there her softly-mournful numbers^ The earth its earliest sweets bestows. To deck the grave where Mir a slumbers. MIRA. 113 There summer's brightest flow'rs appear 3 There oft the hollow breeze is swelling j The passing stranger drops a tear On Mira's dark and narrow dweUing. The moralist^ with musing eyes^ Loves there his pensive steps to measure : '' How vain is human pride!" he cries, '^ How soon is lost each earthly treasure!' '' To snatch the fleeting bubble, joy. How weak is ev'ry fond endeavour We rush to seize the glitt'ring toyj It bursts, it vanishes for ever ! I 114 MIRA. '^ How soon our pleasures pass away ! How soon our bliss must yield to sorrow! The friend, with whom we smile to-day, .-^May wither in his shroud to-morrow 1^._ AMARILLIS; FROM THE PASTOR FIDO. (DuNftUE addio, care selve^ Care mie selve, addio. Ricevete questi ultimi sospiri. Fin che sciolta da ferro ingiusto, e crudo> Torni la mia fredd' ombra A le vostr' ombre amate. Che nel penoso inferno Non pub gir innocente, Ne pub star tra beati 116 AMARILLIS. Disperata e dolente. i' moro_, e senza colpa, E senza frulto^ e senza te_, cor mio: Mi moro^ oime^ Mirtillo.) Dear woods, your sacred haunts I leave : Adieu ! my parting sighs receive ! Adieu ! dear native woods, adieu ! Which I no more am doom'd to view^ From ev'ry joy remov'd^ Till from the cold and cruel urn My melancholy shade shall turn To seek your shades beloy'd. For, free from guilt, I cannot go To join the wailing ghosts below^ AMARILLIS. 117 Nor can despair and bleeding love Find refuge with the blest above, In youth and innocence I diej The cold grave-stone must be ray pillow; From life, from love, from hope I fly; Adieu! a long adieu! Mirtillo! CLONAR AND TLAMIN. IMITATED FROM A LITTLE POEM IN MACPHERSON S NOTES ON OSSIAN. ^' The loves of Clonar andTlamin were rendered famous in the north by a fragment of a lyric poem still preserved which is ascribed to Ossian. It is a dialogue between Clonar and Tlamin. She begins with a soliloquy, which he overhears." TLAMIN. Son of Conglas of Imor! thou first in the battle! Oh Clonar, young hunter of 4un-sided roes! Where the wings of the wind through the tall branches rattle. Oh, where does my hero on rushes repose? CLONAR AND TLAMIN. 119 By the oak of the valley, my love, have I found thee. Where swift from tlie hill pom- thy loud-rolling streams J The beard of the thistle flies sportively round thee. And dark o'er thy face pass the thoughts of thy dreams. Thy dreams are of scenes where the war-tempest rages : Tlamin's youthful warrior no dangers appal: Even now, in idea, my hero engages. On Erin's green plains, in the wars of Fingal. Half hid, by the grove of the hill, I retire : Ye blue mists of Luth a ! why rise ye between? Why hide the young warrior whose soul is all fire. Oh why hide her love from the eyes of Tl am in? 120 CLONAR AND TLAMIN. CLONAR. As the vision that flies with the beams of the morninsr. While fix'd on the mind its bright images prove. So fled the young sun-beam these valhes adorning ; Why flies my Tlamin from the sight of her love? TLAMIN. Oh Clonar ! my heart will to joy be a stranger. Till thou on our mountains again shalt be seen 3 Then why wilt thou rush to the regions of danger. Far, far from the love of the mournflil Tlamin? CLONAR. The signals of war are from Selma resounding I With morning we rise on the dark-rolling wave: Towards green-vallied Erin our vessels are bounding; I rush to renown, to the fields of the brave I CLONAR AND TLAMIN. 121 Yet around me when war's hottest thunders shall rattle. Thy form to my soul ever present shall be j And should deatli's icy hand check my progress in battle. The last sigh .of Clonar shall rise but for thee. FOLDATH THE CAVERN OF MOM J, FROM THE SAME. FOLDATH, ADDRESSING THE SPIRITS OF HIS FATHERS. In your presence dark I stand: Spirits of my sires ! disclose. Shall my steps, o'er Atha's land. Pass to Ullin of the roes ? 1 FOLDATH. 123 ANSWER. Thou to Ullin's plains shall go: There shall rage the battle loud: O'er the fall'n thy fame shall grow. Like the gath'ring thunder-cloud. There thy blood-stain'd sword shall gleam. Till, around while danger roars, Cloncath, the reflected beam. Come from Moruth's sounding shores. DREAMS. FROM PETRONIUS ARBITER. Somnia, quae mentes ludunt volitantibus umbris, &c. Dreams, which^ beneath the hov'ring shades of night. Sport with the ever-restless minds of men, Descend not from the gods. Each busy brain Creates its own. For when the chains of sleep Have bound the weary, and the lighten'd mind Unshackled plays, the actions of the light Become renew'd'in darkness. Then the chief. Who shakes the world with war, who joys alone DREAMS. 125 In blazing cities, and in Ayasied plains^ — --<>' O'erthrown battalions sees,, and dying kings. And fields o'erflow'd with blood. The lawyer dreams Of causes, of tribunals, judges, fees. The trembling miser hides his ill-gain'd gold. And oft with joy a buried treasure finds. The eager hunter witli his clam'rous dogs Makes rocks and woods resound. The sailor brings His vessel safe to port, or sees it whelm'd Beneath the foaming waves. The anxious maid Writes to her lover, or beholds him near. The dog in dreams pursues the tim'rous hare. The wretch, whom Fortune's iron hand has scourg'd, Finds in his slumbers all his woes reviv'd. PINDAR ON THE ECLIPSE OF THE SUN. AKti$ asXiou TtoXvo-KOirs, KtX, All-enlight'ninGj all-beholding. All-transcending star of day ! Why, thy sacred orb enfolding. Why does darkness veil thy ray ? On thy life difRising splendor These portentous shades that rise. Vain the strength of mortals render. Vain the labors of the wise. ECLIPSE OF THE SUN. 127 Late thy wheels, through ether burning, Roll'd in unexampled Hght: Mortals mourn thy change, returning In the sable garb of night. Hear, oh Phcebus! we implore thee. By Olympian Jove divine j Phoebus! Thebans kneel before thee. Still on Thebes propitious shine. On thy darken' d course attending. Dost thou signs of sorrow bring? Shall the summer rains, descending. Blast the promise of the spring ? 128 ECLIPSE OF THE SUN* Or shall War, in evil season, ^.^^..- Spread unbounded ruin round ? Or the baleful hand of Treason Our domestic joys confound? By the bursting torrent's power. Shall our rip'ning fields be lost ? Shall the air with snow-storms lower, Or tJie soil be bound in frost ? Or shall ocean's waves stupendous. Unresisted, unconfin'd. Once again, with roar tremendous. Hurl destruction on mankind? TO A YOUNG LADY, NETTING. While those bewitching hands combine^ With matchless grace, the silken line. They also weave, with gentle art. Those stronger nets that bind the heart. ^"^HBut soon all earthly things decay: -^ — •* #^hat net in time must wear away-:- — » E'en Beauty's silken meshes gay No lasting hold can take : K 130 TO A YOUNG LADY. But Beauty, Virtue, Sense, combin'd, (And all these charms in thee are join'd) Can throw that net upon the mind, No human art can e'er unbind. No human pow'r can break. NUGJE. LEVI MOSES. Sed quo divitias haec per tormenta coactas? Cum furor baud dubius, cum sit manifesta pbrenesis, Ut locuplcs moriaris cgenti vivere fato ? Juv. Ma name'sh Levi Moshesh: I tink I vash born. Dough I cannot exactly remember, in RosHEMARY-LANE, about tree in de morn, Shome time in de mont of November. Ma fader cried *' clotheshy' trough de shtreetsh ash he vent. Dough he now shleeping under de shtone ish. He made by hish bargains two hundred per shent. And dat vay he finger' d de monish. ]34 LEVI MOSES. Ma fader vash vise : very great vash hisli shenshe : De monish he alvaysh vash turning: And early he taught me poundsh, shillingsh^andpenshe j *' For," shaysh he, '' dat ish all dat'sh vorth learning. Ash to Latin and Greek, 'tish all nonshenshe, I shay, Vhich occasion to shtudy dere none ish ; But shtich closhe to Cocker, for dat ish de vay. To teach you to finger de monish." To a shtock-broker den I apprentishe vash bound. Who hish monish lov'd very shinsherely; And, trough hish inshtmctions, I very shoon found, I ma bushinesh knew pretty clearly. Shaysh he : *"' cheat a little : 'tish no shuch great crime. Provided it cleverly done ish:" Sho I cleverly cheated him every time I could manage to finger hish monish. LEVI MOSES. 135 And den I shet up for a broker mashelf. And Fortune hash shmil'd on ma laborshj I've minded de main-chanshe, and shcrap'd up de pelf. And ruin'd von half of ma neighboursh. If any von cash on goot bondsh vould obtain. Very shoon ready for him de loan ish ; And about shent per shent ish de int'resht I gain. And dat vay I finger de monish. To part vit ma monish I alvaysh vash loth ; For ma table no daintiesh I dish up : I dine on two eggsh, and I shup on de broth. But I feasht vonsh a veek like a bishop ! Ev'ry Shatukday night, on a grishkin of pork I regale bote mashelf and ma cronieshj And I play on de grishkin a goot knife and fork. Dough dat runsh avay vit de monish I 136 LEVI MOSES. To de presheptsh ma fader inshtill'd in ma mind I have ever been conshtant and shteady : To learning or pleasure I ne'er vash inclin'd. For neider vould bring in de ready. And into ma pocketsh de monish to bring Ma perpetual shtudy alone ish_, For de monish indeed ish a very goot ting. Oh;, a very goot ting ish de monish ! SLENDER'S LOVE-ELEGY. Come, Polyhymnia, heav'nly maid! Oh deign an humble bard to aid. Whose heart in tenfold chains is laid, In Cuvid's cage: To Anna's name I strike the string; Thence all my pains and pleasures sprin< Yes, I aspire thy praise to sing. Oh sweet Anne Page! 138 slender's love-elegy. The lustre of thy soft blue eyes. Thy lip that with the coral vies, IVIight bid love's flames tlie breast surprise Of stoic sage : And cold indeed his heart must be. Who could thy matchless features see. And not at once exclaim, with me. Oh sweet Anne Page! Wealth, pow'r, and splendor, I disown : To them no real joys are known : Thy unaffected charms alone My heart engage : Thou canst alone my bosom fire. Thou canst alone my muse inspire. To thee alone I tune the lyre. Oh swelt Anne Page! slender's love-elegy. 139 Against my passion's fond appeal Should' st thou thy gentle bosom steel. What pow'r tlie pangs I then should feel Could e'er assuage ? To woods, to mountains would I fly ; Thy dear lov'd name unceasing sigh. Till thousand echoes should reply : Oh sweet Anne Page! I cannot boast the art sublime. Like some great poets of the time. To sing, in lofty-sounding rhyme. Of amorous rage : But LOVE has taught me to complain j Love has inspir'd this humble strain j Then let me not still sigh in vain. Oh sweet Anne Page! A FRAGMENT. Nay, deem me not insensible^ Cesario, To female charms^ nor think this heart of mine Is cas'd in adamant j because, forsooth, I cannot ogle, and hyperbolise. And whisper tender nothings in tlie ear Of ev'iy would-be beauty, holding out The bright but treach'rous flame of flattery. To watch the she-moths of a drawing-room Sport round the beam, and burn their pretty wings. Ere conscious of their danger : yet, believe me, I love a maid whose untranscended form Is yet less lovely than her spotless mind. A FRAGMENT. 14l With modest frankness^ unaffected genius, Unchang'd good-humour, beauty void of art. And polish'd wit that seeks not to offend. And winning smiles that seek not to betray. She charms the sight, and fascinates the soul. Where dwells tliis matchless nymph? alas, Cesario ! 'Tis but a sickly creature of my fancy, Unparallell'd in nature. s THE END. T. Bensley, Printer, 3olt Court, Fleet Street, London. i I i 5 FK4 t o c ^ t- p C 55 ."' p^ .^ w o > i J^Hi 6A91B 61 x-/* GENERAL LIBRARY -U.C. BERKELEY B00Q3b2b2M ivisOOooO -■■•^ .-^"/'^