^.r^T'.^- yy,: QJornell Hmucraita Hibrary 3tl?aca. Netn ^nrk WORDSWORTH COLLECTION MADE BY CYNTHIA MORGAN ST. JOHN ITHACA, N. Y. THE GrFT OF VICTOR EMANUEL CLASS OF 1919 1925 „/""'\ ©IF TTMIE ^i ]FM(DM TTiiirm IBn-IDiErMAIPMIICAIL SIKlElP'riEIIES ,mtML'.i!JiM»J :P^E1I[:LA\]D)]EIL]F^IEI]L-\ . SELECT WOEKS OF THE BRITISH POETS, IN A CHRONOLOGICAL SERIES FROM FALCONER TO SIR WALTER SCOTT. BIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL NOTICES. DESIGNED AS A CONTINUATION OP DR. AIKIN'S BRITISH POETS. BY JOHN FROST, A.M. PHILADELPHIA : THOMAS WARDLE, 15 MINOR STREET. iTEREOTTPED BY L. JOHNSON. 1838. ADVERTISEMENT. The following work has been executed with a view of completing the original design of Doctor Aikin, whose volume comprised " a chronological series of the classical poets of Great Britain, from Ben Jonson to Beattie, without mutilation or abridgment, with biographical and critical notices of the authors." The present volume commences with Falconer and ends with Scott. In the task of selecting, the compiler has kept in view, accord- ing to the best of his judgment, what appears to have been the leading principle of his predecessor, namely, to choose the most popular works of the best poets. The notices have been neces- sarily compiled entirely from British authorities. It is intended to add one more volume to the series, which will commence with Southey, and include the principal works of all the classical poets of Great Britain, subsequent in chronological order to those comprised in the preceding volumes. CONTENTS. The Shipwreck. Canto I. II. . HI. FALCONER. BARBAULD. Corsica. Written in the year 1769. . The Mouse's Petition Characters ..... An In ven tory nf the Furniture in Dr. Priestley's Study On a Lady's Writing .... On the Deserted Village Hymn to Content .... The Origin of Song-writing Ode to Spring ..... An Address to the Deity A Summer Evening's Meditation To-morrow ..... A School Eclosue .... What do the Futures speak of? In Answer to a Question in the Greek Grammar . The Rights of Woman Washing-day ..... To Mr. S. T. Coleridge. 1797. The Unknown God .... Ode to Remorse .... On the Death of the Princess Charlotte The Wake of the King of Spain . Hymns :— I. II. III. For Easter Sunday IV. V. . VI. Pious Friendship VU. . VIII. IX. . X. A Pastoral Hymn SIR WILLIAM JONES. Caissa ; or, the Game of Chess Solima. An Arabian Eclogue An Ode in imitation of Alcaeus An Ode in imitation of Callistratus The First Nemean Ode of Pindar A Chinese Ode, paraphrased A Turkish Ode of Mesihi Hymn to Caradeo Two Hymns to Pracriti. To Durga To Bhavani Hymn to Indra . CRABBE. Sir Eustace Grey The Hall of Justice. Pan I. II. . Woman Page Page Tales :- I. The Dumb Orators ; or, the Benefit of So- ciety . . . . .76 II. The Parting Hour ... 80 III. The Gentleman Farmer . . .84 IV. Procrastination .... 88 V. The Patron 91 VI. The Frank Courtship ... 97 Vn. The Widow's Tale . . . .101 VIII. The Mother .... 104 IX. Arabella 107 X. The Lover's Joturney . . . 110 XI. Ed Vizard Shore . . . .113 XII. 'Squire Thomas ; or, the Precipitate Choice 117 XIII. Jessy and Colin .... 120 XIV. The Struggles of Conscience . . 124 XV. Advice; or, the 'Squire and the Priest 128 XVI. The Confidant . . . .131 XVTI. Resentment .... 136 XVIII. The Wager 140 XIX. The Convert .... 143 XX. The Brothers . . . .146 XXI. The Learned Boy . . .150 CHATTERTON. Bristow Tragedie ; or, the Dethe of Syr Charles Bawdin 158 Mynstrelles Songe . . . . .161 GIFFORD. The Baviad; a paraphrastic Imitation of the first Satire of Persius ..... 163 TheMseviad 173 BURNS. The twa Dogs, a Tale 190 Death and Dr. Hornbook. A true Story . . 192 The Brigs of Ayr, a Poem. Inscribed to J. B******, Esq., Ayr 193 The Death and Dying Words of Poor Mailie, the Au- thor's only Pet Yowe. An unco mournfu' Tale 195 Poor Maine's Elegy 196 ToJ. S****. 196 A Dream 198 The Vision, Duan First ...... 199 Duan Second ...... 201 Address to the unco Guid, or the Rigidly Righteous 202 Tam Samson's Elegy ..... 203 Halloween 204 The auld Farmer's New-year Morning Salutation to his auld Mare Maggie, on giving her accustomed Ripp of Corn to hansel In the New-year . 207 To a Mouse. On turning her up in her Nest with the Plough, November, 1785. . . .208 A Winter's Night 208 Despondency. An Ode .... 209 Winter. A Dirge 210 The Cotter's Saturday Night. Inscribed to R. A***"*, Esq. 210 Man was made to mourn. A Dirge . . 212 A Prayer in the Prospect of Death . . . 213 Stanzas on the same Occasion . . . 213 a2 5 CONTENTS. Page Verses left at a Friend's House . . . 213 The First Psalm ..... 213 A Prayer under the Pressure of violent Anguish . 214 The first six Verses of the ninetieth Psalm . 214 To a Mountain Daisy, on turning one down with the Plough in April, 1786. . . . .214 To Ruin ...... 214 To Miss L— , with Seattle's Poems as a New-year's Gift, January 1, 1787. . . . .215 Epistle to a Young Friend. May, 1786. . . 215 On a Scotch Bard gone to the W^est Indies . . 216 To a Haggis ...... 216 A Dedication to Gavin Hamilton, Esq. . . 217 To a Louse. On seeing one on a Lady's Bonnet at Church . ..... 218 Address to Edinburgh . . . . .218 Epistle to J. Lapraik, an old Scottish Bard. April 1st, 1785. 219 To the same. April 21st, 1785. . . .220 To W. S*****N, Ochiltree .... 221 Epistle to J. R******, enclosing some Poems . 223 Tam O'Shanter. A Tale .... 223 Songs :— The Lea-rig .225 To Mary 225 My Wife's a winsome wee thing . . . 226 Bonnie Leslie ..... 226 Highland Mary 226 Auld Bob Morris 226 Duncan Gray ...... 226 Song 227 Galla Water 227 Lord Gregory ..... 227 Mary Morison . . . . .227 Wandering Willie .... 228 Jessie ....... 228 When wild War's deadly Blast was blawn . 228 Song . . . . . . .228 Bonnie Jean ..... 229 Auld Lang Syne 229 Bannockburn. Robert Bruce's Address to his Army 229 For a' that, and a' that .... 23U Scottish Ballad 230 Song 230 The Birksof Aberfeldy .... 231 1 love my Jean ..... 231 John Anderson my Jo . . . . 231 ThePosie . . . . ; .231 The Banks o' Doon .... 231 Song 232 Sic a Wife as Willie had ... 232 Wilt thou be my Dearie 1 . . . .232 For the sake of somebody . . . 232 A red, red Rose ..... 232 Song 233 The bonnie Lad that's far awa . . .233 Whistle o'er the lave o't . . , .233 ROGERS. The Pleasures of Memory. Part 1 234 II 238 Italy.— Part I. I. The Lake of Geneva . , .241 11. The Great St. Bernard . . .242 III. The Descent 243 IV. Jorasse . . . . .244 V. Marguerite de Tours . . . .244 VI. The Alps 245 VII. Como 245 VIII. Bergamo 246 IX. Italy 247 X. CoU'alto 247 XI. Venice 248 XII. Luigi 249 XIII. St. Mark's Place . . . .250 XIV. The Gondola .... 251 XV. The Brides of Venice . . .252 XVI. Foscari 253 XVII. Arqua 255 XVdl. Ginevra 255 XIX. Bologna 256 XX. Florence .... 257 XXI. Don Garzla 258 XXII. The Campagna of Florence . . 258 Italy.— Part II. I. The Pilgrim 261 II. An Interview . . . 262 III. Rome 262 IV. A Funeral . . . . 264 V. National Prejudices . . . .265 VI. The Campagna of Rome . . 265 VII. The Roman Pontiffs . . . .266 VIII. Caius Cestius .... 267 IX. The Nun X. The Firefly XI. Foreign Travel XH. The Fountain XIII. Banditti XIV. An Adventure XV. Naples XVI. The Bag of Gold XVn. A Character . XVIII. Sorrento XIX. Paestum XX. Monte Cassino . XXI. The Harper . XXII. TheFeluca XXlll. Genoa . Ode to Superstition . . - - Verses written to be spoken by Mrs. Siddons On asleep To From Euripides Captivity . The Sailor To an old Oak . To two Sisters On a Tear To a Voice that had been lost . . , From a Greek Epigram .... To the Fragment of a Statue of Hercules, commonly called the Torso . . . . . To Written in a Sick Chamber . . . . The Boy of Egremond .... To a Friend on his Marriage . . . . The Alps at Daybreak .... Imitation of an Italian Sonnet A Character ...... To the Youngest Daughter of Lady **♦* An Epitaph on a Robin-redbreast . To the Gnat ...... A Wish Written at Midnight, 1786 An Italian Song ..... An Inscription . . . ■ . Written in the Highlands of Scotland, September 2, 1812. . . . . . A Farewell ...... Inscription for a Temple. Dedicated to the Graces To the Butterfly ..... Written in Westminster Abbey, October 10, 1806. . Page 267 267 263 269 269 270 271 273 274 275 276 277 277 277 278 279 281 262 282 2^ 2^ 282 282 283 283 283 283 584 284 284 284 284 285 285 285 285 285 285 286 286 286 287 287 287 287 GRAHAME. The Sabbath Sabbath Walks :— A Spring Sabbath Walk . A Summer Sabbath Walk An Autumn Sabbath Walk A Winter Sabbath Walk Biblical Pictures : — The First Sabbath The Finding of Moses Jacob and Pharaoh Jephthah's Vow Saul and David Elijah fed by Ravens The Birth of Jesus announced . Behold my Mother and my Brethren Bartimeus restored to Sight Little Children brought to Jesus Jesus calms the Tempest . Jesus walks on the Sea, and calms the Storm The Dumb cured .... The Death of Jesus .... The Resurrection .... Jesus appears to the Disciples Paul accused before the Tribunal of the Areopagus Paul accused before the Roman Governor of Judea Paraphrase.— Psalm ciii. 3, 4. On Visiting Melrose, after an Absence of sixteen Years ..... The Wild Duck and her Brood . . " . To a Redbreast that flew in at my Window Epitaph on a Blackbird killed by a Hawk . The Poor Man's Funeral .... The Thanksgiving off Cape Trafalgar . ' . To my Son ...... Basil. Act I. n. III. IV. V. JOANNA BAILLIE. 289 297 297 298 293 299 299 299 300 300 300 300 300 301 301 301 301 301 301 301 302 302 302 302 302 303 303 303 303 303 304 305 309 314 328 CONTENTS. De Monfort. Act 1 ' . •. 332 II 337 III. ...... . 341 IV 345 V. ..... . . 349 The Martyr. Act I. 356 II . 360 Ill 365 Christopher Columbus .... . 370 Lady Griseld Balllie 379 Lord John of Ihe East .... . 387 Malcom's Heir .... 388 The Elden Tree .... . 390 The Ghost of Fadon 392 A November Night's Traveller . 394 Sir Maurice. A Ballad 396 Address to a Steam-vessel .. 398 To Mrs. Siddons .... 399 A Volunteer Song .... . 400 To a Child 400 BLOOMFIELD. The Farmer's Boy. Spring ...... . 402 Summer ..... 405 Auiumu . . ... . 408 Winter ..... 411 WORDSWORTH. The Excursion, being a Portion of the Recluse. Book I The Wanderer .... II. The Solitary .... III. Despondency . . . . IV. Despondency corrected . V. The Pastor VI. The Churcliyard among the Mountains VII. The Churchyard among the Mountains, continued . . . . . VIII. The Parsonage .... IX. Discourse of the Wanderer, and an Even- ing Visit to the Lake The Armenian Lady's Love . . The Somnambulist ... BOWLES. The Missionary. Canto I. . ... n III. IV V. . . . VI VTI. vni Song of the Cid Sonnets. Written chiefly during various Journeys. Part I. Sonnet. Written at Tynemouth, Northumber- land, after a tempestuous Voyage Sonnet. At Bamborough Castle Sonnet. To the River Wensbeck Sonnet. To the River Tweed On leaving a Village in Scotland To the River Itchin, near Winlon Sonnet Sonnet. Sonnet. Sonnet ..... Sonnet. At Dover Cliffs, July 20, 1787 . Sonnet. At Ostend, landing, July 21, 1787 Sonnet. At Ostend, July 22, 1787 Sonnet. On the River Rhine Sonnet. At a Convent . . Sonnet ..... Sonnet ..... Sonnet. On a distant View of England Sonnet. To the River Cherwell, Oxford Part II. Sonnet Sonnet. October, 1792 Sonnet. November, 1792 Sonnet. April, 1793 Sonnet. May, 1793 Sonnet. Netley Abbey Sonnet Sonnet. May, 1793 Sonnet Sonnet. On revisiting Oxford Sonnet. On the Death of the Rev. William Ben- well ...... 476 Page Sonnet. Written at Malvern, July 11, 1793 519 Sonnet, On reviewing the foregoing, Septem- ber 21, 1797 519 COLERIDGE. Sibylline Leaves. I. Poems occasioned by Political Events, or Feel- ings connected with them :— Ode to the departing Year .... France. An Ode .... Fears in Solitude. Written in April, 1798, dur- ing the Alarm of an Invasion Fire, Famine, and Slaughter. A War Eclogue Recantation, illustrated in the Story of the Mad Ox II. Love Poems : — Introduction to the Tale of the Dark Ladie Lewti, or the Circassian Love-chant . The Picture, or the Lover's Resolution . The Night-scene. A Dramatic Fragment To an unfortunate Woman, whom the Author had known in the Days of her Innocence To an unfortunate Woman at the Theatre . Lines composed in a Concert-room The Keepsake ..... To a Lady. With Falconer's " Shipwreck" Home-sick. Written in Germany Answer lo a Child's Question To a Young Lady. On her Recovery from a Fever ...... The Visionary Hope .... Something childish, but very natural. Written in Germany ..... Recollections of Love .... The Happy Husband. A Fragment On revisiting the Sea-shore, after long Absence, under strong uiudical recommendations not to bathe ...... The Composition of a Kiss III. Meditative Poems. In Ijlank verse: Hymn before Sunrise, in tlie Vale of Chamouny Lines written in the Album at Elbingerode, in the Hartz Forest ..... On observing a Blossom on the first of February, 1796 The Eolian Harp. Composed at Clevedon, So- mersetshire ..... Reflections on having left a Place of Retirement To the Re v. George Coleridge of Ottery St. Mary, Devon, with some Poems A tombless Epitaph .... Inscription for a Fountain on a Heath This Lime-tree Bower my Prison To a Gentleman. Composed on the Night after his Recitation of a Poem on the Growth of an individual Mind ..... To a Friend, who had declared his Intention of writing no more Poetry The Nightingale : a Conversation Poem. "Writ- ten in April, 1798 ..... Frost at Midnight .... To a Friend, together with an unfinished Poem The Hour wlien we shall meet again. Composed during Illness and in Absence . Lines to Joseph Cottle .... IV. Odes and Miscellaneous Poems :— The Three Graves. A Fragment of a Sexton's Tale Dejection. An Ode .... Ode to Georgiana, Dutchess of Devonshire, on the twenty-fourth Stanza in her " Passage over Mount Gothard" .... Ode to Tranquillity .... To a Young Friend, on his proposing to domesti- cate with the Author. Composed in 1796 Lines to W. L. Esq., while he sang a Song to Purcell's Music ..... Addressed to a Young Man of Fortune, who abandoned himself to an indolent and cause- less Melancholy ..... Sonnet to the River Otter Sonnet. Composed on a Journey homeward ; the Author having received Intelligence of the Birth of a Son, September 20, 1796 Sonnet. To a Friend, who asked how I felt when the Nurse first presented my Infant to me ...... The Virgin's Cradle Hymn. Copied from the Print of the Virgin in a Catholic Village in Germany ...... On the Christening of a Friend's Child Epitaph on an Infant .... Melancholy. A Frsigment A Christmas Carol ..... 521 523 524 526 526 528 529 530 531 5.32 532 533 533 533 534 534 534 534 5.35 535 635 535 536 536 537 537 537 538 539 539 540 540 541 542 542 543 544 544 544 545 548 550 551 551 552 552 552 552 552 553 553 CONTENTS. Page Tell's Birthplace. Imitated from Stolberg . 554 Human Life. On the Denial of ImmorLalily . 554 Elegy, imitated from one of Akenside's Blank Verse Inscriptions .... 554 The Visit of the Gods. Imitated from Schiller 554 Kubla Khan ; or, a Vision in a Dream . 555 The Pains of Sleep . . . .556 The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. Part 1 556 11 557 III 558 IV 559 V. . .. . • . .559 VI 560 VII 561 Christabel. Part 1 563 II 566 Youth and Aee . . . , . .569 The Devil's Thoughts .... 569 Epigrams ....... 570 The Garden of Boccaccio . . ,570 MONTGOMERY. The Wanderer of Switzerland. Part 1 57.3 II 574 III 575 IV 577 V 578 VI 580 The Grave 582 Ode to the Volunteers of Britain, on the Prospect of Invasion ...... 58.3 Hannah ....... 584 The Ocean. Written at Scarborough, in the Sum- mer of 1805 584 The Common Lot . . . . .586 The Harp of Sorrow 586 Pope's Willow . . . . . .586 The Swiss Cowherd's Song in a foreign Land. Imi- tated from the French .... 587 The Dial .587 A Mother's Love ..... 588 The Glowworm . . . . . .588 The Oak. Imitated from the Italian of Metastasio 589 The Widow and the Fatherless . . . 589 Human Life. — Job xiv. ..... 589 The Bible 589 The Daisy in India . . , , .589 The Stranger and his Friend . . . 590 Via Crucis, Via Lucis ..... 590 The Ages of Man .; ... 591 Aspirations of Youth . . . . .591 Page The Falling Leaf , f^\ TheAdventureofaStar. Addressed to a Young Lady 591 Make way for Liberty For the first Leaf of a Lady's Album The first Leaf of an Album . . . . Time employed, Time enjoyed. Addressed to a Young Lady from whom the Author had re- ceived an elegantly wrought Watch-pocket A Voyage round the World . . . • SIR WALTER SCOTT. The Lay of the Last Minstrel. Canto I. II. III. IV. . V. VI. Marmion. Canto I. II. III. IV. V. VI. A Tale of Flodden Field. The Castle The Convent . The Hostel, or Inn The Camp The Court . The Battle The Lady of the Lake. Canto I. The Chase ..... II. The Island .... III. The Gathering .... IV. The Prophecy .... V. The Combat .... VI. The Guard-room The Fire King The Wild Huntsmen .... The Battle of Sempach .... The Maid of Toro War Song of the Royal Edinburgh Light Dragoons . Mac-Gregor's Gathering. Written for Albyn's An- thology ... ... Mackrimmon's Lament .... Pibroch of Donald Dhu. Written for Albyn's An- thology ...... The Dance of Death .... Farewell to the Muse ..... Hellvellyn ...... Wandering Willie ..... Hunting Sung ..... The Bard's Incantation. Written under the Threat of Invasion, in the Autumn of 1804 Romance of Dunois. From the French . The Troubadour ...... Carle, now the King's come. Being new Words to an auld Spring ..... 592 593 593 594 694 698 602 606 610 615 620 625 633 640 647 655 665 677 683 690 697 704 711 719 720 723 725 725 726 726 727 727 729 729 730 730 730 731 731 732 WILLIAM FALCONER. William Falconer was a native of Edinburgh, and went to sea at an early age in a merchant vessel of Leith. He was afterwards mate of a ship that was wrecked in the Levant, and was one of only three out of her crew that were saved, a catastrophe which formed the subject of his future poem. He was for some time in the capacity of a servant to Campbell, the author of Lexiphanes, when purser of a ship. Campbell is said to have discovered in Falconer talents worthy of cultiva- tion, and when the latter distinguished himself as a poet, used to boast that he had been his scholar. What he learned from Campbell it is not very easy to ascertain. His education, as he often assured Governor Hunter, had been confined to reading, writing, and a little arithmetic, though in the course of his life he picked up some acquaintance with the French, Spanish, and Italian languages. In these his countryman was not likely to have much assisted him ; but he might have lent him books, and possibly instructed him in the use of figures. Falconer published his Shipwreck, in 1762, and by the favour of the Duke of York, to whom it was de- dicated, obtained the appointment of a midshipman in the Royal George, and afterwards that of purser in the Glory frigate. He soon afterwards married a Miss Hicks, an accomplished and beautiful wo- man, the daughter of the surgeon of Sheerness yard. At the peace of 1763, he was on the point of being reduced to distressed circumstances by his ship being laid up in ordinary at Chatham, when, by the friendship of Commissioner Hanway, who ordered the cabin of the Glory to be fitted up for his residence, he enjoyed for some time a retreat for study without expense or embarrassment. Here he employed himself in compiling his Marine Dic- tionary, which appeared in 1769, and has been always highly spoken of by those who are capable of estimating its merits. He embarked also in the politics of the day, as a poetical antagonist to Churchill, but with little advantage to his memory. Before the publication of his Marine Dictionary he had left his retreat at Chatham for a less comfort- able abode in the metropolis, and appears to have struggled with considerable difliculties, in the midst of which he received proposals from the late Mr. Murray, the bookseller, to join him in the business which he had newly established. The cause of his refusing this offer was, in all probability, the appointment which he received to the pursership of the Aurora, East Indiaman. In that ship he embarked for India, in September, 1769, but the 2 Aurora was never heard of after she passed the Cape, and was thought to have foundered in the Channel of Mozambique ; so that the poet o( the Shipwreck may be supposed to have perished by the same species of calamity which he had rehearsed. The subject of the Shipwreck, and the fate of its author, bespeak an uncommon partiality in its favour. If we pay respect to the ingenious scholar who can produce agreeable verses amidst the shades of retirement, or the shelves of his library, how much more interest must we take in the " ship- boy on the high and giddy mast" cherishing refined visions of fancy at the hour which he may casually snatch from fatigue and danger. Nor did Falconer neglect the proper acquirements of seamanship in cultivating poetry, but evinced considerable know- ledge of his profession, both in his Marine Diction- ary and in the nautical precepts of the Shipwreck. In that poem he may be said to have added a con- genial and peculiarly British subject to the lan- guage ; at least, we had no previous poem of any length of which the characters and catastrophe were purely naval. The scene of the catastrophe (though he followed only the fact of his own history) was poetically laid amidst seas and shores where the mind easily gathers romantic associations, and where it sup- poses the most picturesque vicissitudes of scenery and climate. The spectacle of a majestic British ship on the shores of Greece brings as strong a a reminiscence to the mind, as can well be imagined, of the changes which time has wrought in transplanting the empire of arts and civilization. Falconer's characters are few ; but the calm saga- cious commander, and the rough obstinate Red- mond, are well contrasted. Some part of the love-story of Palemon is rather swainish and pro- tracted, yet the effect of his being involved in the calamity leaves a deeper sympathy in the mind for the daughter of Albert, when we conceive her at once deprived both of a father and a lover. The incidents of the Shipwreck, like those of a well-wrought tragedy, gradually deepen, while they yet leave a suspense of hope and fear to the imagination. In the final scene there is something that deeply touches our compassion in the picture of the unfortunate man who is struck blind by a flash of lightning at the helm. I remember, by- the-way, to have met with an affecting account of the identical calamity befalling the steersman of a forlorn vessel in a similar moment, given in a prose and veracious history of the loss of a vessel on the 9 coast of America. Falconer skilfully heightens this trait by showing its effect on the commisera- tion of Rodmond, the roughest of his characters, who guides the victim of misfortune to lay hold of the shrouds. " A flash, quick glancing on the nerves of light, Struck the pale helmsman with eternal night : Rodmond, who heard a pitious groan behind, Touch'd with compassion, gaz'd upon the blind ; And, while around his sad companions crowd, He guides the unhappy viotiiri to the shroud. Hie thee aloft, my gallant friend ! he cries ; Thy only succour on the mast relies !" The effect of his sea phrases is to give a definite and authentic character to his descriptions ; and his poem has the sensible charm of appearing a tran- script of reality, and leaves an impression of truth and nature on the mind. THE SHIPWRECK. Canto I. ARGUMENT. Proposal of the subject. Invocation. Apology. AUe- gox-ical description of memory. Appeal to her assist- ance. The story begun. Retrospect of the former part of the voyage. The ship arrives at Candia. Ancient state of that island. Present state of the adjacent isles of Greece. The season of the year. Character of the master and his officers. Story of Palemon and Anna. Evening described. Midnight. The ship weighs anchor, and departs from the haven. State of the weather. Morning. Situation of the neighbouring shores. Operation of taking the sun's azimuth. Description of the vessel as seen from the land. TVte scm.e is near the city of Candia ; and the time about four days and a half. While jarring interests wake the world to arms, And fright the peaceful vale with dire alarms ; While Ocean hears vindictive thunders roll, Along his trembling wave, from pole to pole ; Sick of the scene, where war, with ruthless hand. Spreads desolation o'er the bleeding land ; Sick of the tumult, where the trumpet's breath Bids ruin smile, and drowns the groan of death ! 'Tis mine, retired beneath this cavern hoar, That stands all lonely on the sea-beat shore, Far other themes of deep distress to sing Than ever trembled from the vocal string. No pomp of battle swells th' exalted strain, Nor gleaming arms ring dreadful on the plain : But, o'er the scene while pale Remembrance weeps. Fate with fell triumph rides upon the deeps, Here hostile elements tumultuous rise, And lawless floods rebel against the skies ; Till hope expires, and peril and dismay Wave their black ensigns on the watery way. Immortal train, who guide the maze of song, To whom all science, arts, and arms belong; Who bid the trumpet of eternal fame Exalt the warrior's and the poet's name ! If e'er with trembling hope I fondly stray'd In life's fair morn beneath your hallow'd shade, To hear the sweetly-mournful lute complain. And melt the heart with ecstasy of pain ; Or listen, while th' enchanting voice of love. While all Elysium warbled through the grove ; O ! by the hollow blast that moans around. That sweeps the wild harp with a plaintive sound : By the long surge that foams through yonder cave JVhose vaults remunnur to the roaring wave ; With living colours give my verse to glow. The sad memorial of a tale of wo ? A scene from dumb oblivion to restore, To fame unlinown, and new to epic lore ! Alas; neglected by the sacred Nine, Their suppliant feels no genial ray divine ! Ah ! will they leave Pieria's happy shore, To plough the tide where wintry tempests roar ? Or shall a youth approach their hallow'd fane. Stranger to Phoebus, and the tuneful train ? — Far from the Muses' academic grove, 'Twas his the vast and trackless deep to rove. Alternate change of climates has he known, And felt the fierce extremes of either zone ; Where polar skies congeal th' eternal snow, Or equinoctial suns for ever glow. Smote by the freezing or the scorching blast, " A ship-boy on the high and giddy mast,"* From regions where Peruvian billows roar, To the bleak coast of savage Labrador. From where Damascus, pride of Asian plains ! Stoops her proud neck beneath tyrannic chains. To where the isthmus.t laved by adverse tides, Atlantic and Pacific seas divides. But, while he measured o'er the painful race, In Fortune's wild illimitable chase, Adversity, companion of his way ! Still o'er the victim hung with iron sway ; Bade new distresses every instant grow. Marking each cliange of place with change of wo : In regions where th' Almighty's chastening hand With livid pestilence afflicts the land ; Or where pale famine blasts the hopeful year. Parent of want and misery severe ; Or where, all dreadful in ih' embattled line. The hostile ships in flaming combat join : Where the torn vessel, wind and wave assail. Till o'er her crew distress and death prevail — Where'er he wander'd thus vindictive Fate Pursued his weary steps with lasting hate ! Roused by her mandate, storms of black array Winter'd the morn of life's advancing day ; Relax'd the sinews of the living lyre. And quench'd the kindling spark of vital fire. — Thus while forgotten or unknown he woos, What hope to win the coy, reluctant Muse ? Then let not Censure, with malignant joy, The harvest of his humble hope destroy ! His verse no laurel wreath attempts to claim. Nor sculptur'd brass to tell the poet's name. If terms uncouth, and jarring phrases, wound The softer sense with inharmonious sound. * Shakspeare. 1 Darien. Canto I. THE SHIPWRECK. 11 Yet here let listening Sympathy prevail, While conscious Truth unfolds her piteous tale ! And lo ! the power that wakes th' eventful song Hastes hither from Lethean baniis along: She sweeps the gloom, and rushing on the sight, Spreads o'er the kindling scene propitious light ; In her right hand an ample roll appears. Fraught with long annals of preceding years ; With every wise and noble art of man. Since first the circling hours their course began. Her left a silver wand on high display'd. Whose magic touch dispels Oblivion's shade. Pensive her look ; on radiant wings, that glow Like Juno's birds, or Iris' flaming bow. She sails ; and swifter than the course of light. Directs her rapid intellectual flight. The fugitive ideas she restores, [shores. And calls the wandering thought from Lethe's To things long past a second date she gives, And hoary Time from her fresh youth receives. Congenial sister of immortal Fame, She shares her power, and Memory is her name. O first-born daughter of primeval Time! By whom transmitted down in every clime. The deeds of ages long elapsed are known. And blazon'd glories spread from zone to zone ; Whose breath dissolves the gloom of mental night. And o'er th' obscured idea pours the light ! Whose wing unerring glides through time and place. And trackless scours th' immensity of space ! Say ! on what seas, for thou alone canst tell, What dire mishap a fated ship befell, Assail'd by tempests ! girt with hostile shores ! Arise ! approach ! unlock thy treasured stores ! A ship from Egypt, o'er the deep impeli'd By guiding winds, her course for Venice held ; Of famed Britannia were the gallant crew, And from that isle her name the vessel drew. The wayward steps of Fortune that delude Full oft to ruin, eager they pursued ; And, dazzled by her visionary glare. Advanced incautious of each fatal snare; Though warn'd full oft the slippery track to shun. Yet Hope, with flattering voice, betray'd them on. Beguiled to danger thus, they left behind The scene of peace, and social joy resign'd. Long absent they, from friends and native home, The cheerless ocean were inured to roam : Yet Heaven, in pity to severe distress. Had crown'd each painful voyage with success: Still to atone for toils and hazards past. Restored them to maternal plains at last. Thrice had the sun, to rule the varying year Across th' equator roll'd his flaming sphere. Since last the vessel spread her ample sail From Albion's coast, obsequious to the gale. She, o'er the spacious flood, from shore to shore, Unwearying, wafted her commercial store. The richest ports of Afric she had view'd. Thence to fair Italy her course pursued ; Had left behind Trinacria's burning isle. And visited the margin of the Nile. And now, that winter deepens round the pole. The circling voyage hastens to its goal. They, blind to Fate's inevitable law. No dark event to blast their hope foresaW ; But from gay Venice soon expect to steer For Britain's coast, and dread no perils near. A thousand tender thoughts their souls employ. That fondly dance to scenes of future joy. Thus time elapsed, while o'er the pathless tide Their ship through Grecian seas the pilots guide. Occasion call'd to touch at Candia's shore. Which, bless'd with favouring winds, they soon explore. The haven enter, borne before the gale, Despatch their commerce, and prepare to sail. Eternal Powers ! what ruins from afar Mark the fell track of desolating War ! Here Art and Commerce, with auspicious reign. Once breathed sweet influence on the happy plain ; While o'er the lawn, with dance and festive song. Young Pleasure led the jocund hours along. In gay luxuriance Ceres too was seen To crown the valleys with eternal green. For wealth, for valour, courted and revered, What Albion is, fair Candia then appear'd. Ah ! who the flight of ages can revoke ? The free-born spirit of her sons is broke ; They bow to Ottoman's imperious yoke ! No longer Fame the drooping heart inspires, For rude Oppression quench'd its genial fires. But still, her fields witli golden harvests crown'd Supply the barren shores of Greece around. What pale distress afl[licts those wretched isles ; There hope ne'er dawns, and pleasure never smiles. The vassal wretch obsequious drags his chain, And hears his famish'd babes lament in vain. These eyes have seen the dull reluctant soil A seventh year scorn the weary labourer's toil. No blooming Venus, on the desert shore. Now views with triumph captive gods adore: No lovely Helens now, with fatal charms. Call forth th' avenging chiefs of Greece to arms : No fair Penelopes enchant the eye. For whom contending kings are proud to die. Here sullen Beauty sheds a twilight ray, While Sorrow bids her vernal bloom decay. Those charms so long renown' d in classic strains, Had dimly shone on Albion's happier plains. Now, in the southern hemisphere, the sun Through the bright Virgin and the Scales had run ; And on th' ecliptic wheel'd his winding way Till the fierce Scorpion felt his flaming ray. The ship was moor'd beside the wave-worn strand ; Four days her anchors bite the golden sand : For sick'ning vapours lull the air to sleep. And not a breeze awakes the silent deep. This, when th' autumnal equinox is o'er, And Phoebus in the north declines no more. The watchful mariner, whom Heaven informs, Oft deems the prelude of approaching storms. True to his trust, when sacred duty calls, No brooding storm the master's soul appals ; Th' advancing season warns him to the main : — A captive, fetter'd to the oar of gain ! His anxious heart impatient of delay. Expects the winds to sail from Candia's bay, Determined, from whatever point they rise. To trust his fortune to the seas and skies. Thou living Ray of intellectual fire. Whose voluntary gleams my verse inspire ! Ere yet the deep'ning incidents prevail. Till roused attention feel our plaintive tale, Record whom, chief among the gallant crew, Th' unblest pursuit of fortune hither drew ! 12 FALCONER. Canto 1. Can sons of Neptune, generous, brave, and bold. In pain and hazard toil for sordid gold ? They can ! for gold, too oft, with magic art. Subdues each nobler impulse of the heart : This crowns the prosperous villain with applause, To whom, in vain, sad Merit pleads her cause : This strews with roses life's perplexing road. And leads the way to pleasure's blest abode ; With slaughter'd victims fills the weeping plain. And smooths the furrows of the treacherous main. O'er the gay vessel, and her daring band. Experienced Albert held the chief command ; Though train'd in boisterous elements, his mind Was yet by soft humanity refined, Each joy of wedded love at home he knew ; Abroad confest the father of his crew ! Brave, liberal, just — the calm domestic scene Had o'er his temper breathed a gay serene : Him Science taught by mystic lore to trace The planets wheeling in eternal race ; To mark the ship in floating balance held. By earth attracted and by seas repell'd ; [known, Or point her devious track through climes un- That leads to every shore and every zone. He saw the moon through heaven's blue concave glide. And into motion charm th' expanding tide ; While earth impetuous round her axle rolls. Exalts her watery zone, and sinks the poles. Light and attraction, from their genial source',! He saw still wandering with diminish'd force : While on the margin of declining day. Night's shadowy cone reluctant melts away. — Inured to peril, with unconquer'd soul. The chief beheld tempestuous oceans roll ; His genius ever for th' event prepared, Rose with the storm, and all its dangers shared. The second powers and office Rodmond bore : A hardy son of England's furthest shore ! Where bleak Northumbria pours her savage train In sable squadrons o'er the northern main : That with her pitchy entrails stored, resort, A sooty tribe ! to fair Augusta's port. Where'er in ambush lurk'd the fatal sands. They claim the danger ; proud of skilful bands ; For while, with darkling course, their vessels sweep The winding shore, or plough the faithless deep, O'er bar* and shelf the watery path they sound With dextrous arm ; sagacious of the ground ! Fearless they combat every hostile wind, Wheeling in mazy tracks with course inclined. Expert to moor, where terrors line the road, Or win the anchor from its dark abode : But drooping and relax'd in climes afar Tumultuous and undisciplined in war. Such Rodmond was ; by learning unrefined, That oft enlightens to corrupt the mind. Boisterous of manners ; train'd in early youth To scenes that shame the conscious cheek of truth. To scenes that Nature's struggling voice control, And freeze compassion rising in the soul ! Where the grim hell-hounds prowling round the shore. With foul intent the stranded bark explore — • A bar is known, in hydrography, to be a mass of earth or land collected by the surge of the sea, at the entrance of a river or haven, so as to render the navigation diffi- cult, and often dangerous. Deaf to the voice of wo, her declcs they board, While tardy Justice slumbers o'er her sword — Th' indignant Muse, severely taught to feel, Shrinks from a theme she blushes to reveal! Too oft example, arm'd with poisons fell. Pollutes the shrine where Mercy loves to dwell : Thus Rodmond, train'd by this unhallow'd crew. The sacred social passions never knew : Unskill'd to argue, in dispute yet loud ; Bold without caution ; without honours proud : In art unschool'd ; each veteran rule he prized. And all improvement haughtily despised. Vet, though full oft to future perils blind. With skill superior glow'd his daring mind. Through snares of death the reeling bark to guide, When midnight shades involve the raging tide. To Rodmond next, in order of command, Succeeds the youngest of our naval band. But what avails it to record a name That courts no rank among the sons of Fame? While yet a stripling, oft with fond alarms His bosom danced to Nature's boundless charms. On him fair Science dawn'd in happier hour. Awakening into bloom young Fancy's flower; ^ But frowning Fortune, with untimely blast, The blossom wither'd and the dawn o'ercast. Forlorn of heart, and by severe decree, Condemn'd reluctant to the faithless sea. With long farewell he left the laurel grove. Where science and the tuneful sisters rove. Hither he wander'd, anxious to explore, Antiquities of nations now no more ; To penetrate each distant realm unknown. And range excursive o'er th' untravell'd zone. In vain — for rude Adversity's command. Still on the margin of each famous land. With unrelenting ire his steps opposed, And every gate of Hope against him closed. Permit my verse, ye blest Pierian train, To call Arion this ill-fated swain ! For, like that bard unhappy, on his head. Malignant stars their hostile influence shed. Both in lamenting numbers o'er the deep. With conscious anguish taught the harp to weep : And both the raging surge in safety bore Amid destruction panting to the shore. This last, our tragic story from the wave Of dark Oblivion haply yet may save : With genuine sympathy may yet complain. While sad Remembrance bleeds at every vein. Such were the pilots — tutor'd to divine Th' untravell'd course by geometric line ; Train'd to command and range the various sail, Whose various force conforms to every gale. Charged with the commerce, hither also came A gallant youth : Palemon was his name ; A father's stern resentment doom'd to prove, He came the victim of unhappy love ! His heart for Albert's beauteous daughter bled-; For her a secret flame his bosom fed. Nor let the wretched slaves of Folly scorn This genuine passion, Nature's eldest born ! 'Twas his with lasting anguish to complain. While blooming Anna mourn'd the cause in vain. Graceful of form, by Nature taught to please, Of power to melt the female breast with ease, ' To her Palemon told his tender tale, Soft as the voice of Summer's evening gale : Canto I. THE SHIPWRECK. 13 O'erjoy'd, he saw her lovely eyes relent : The blushing maiden smiled with sweet consent. Oft in the mazes of a neighbouring grove. Unheard, they breathed alternate vows of love: By fond society their passion grew. Like the young blossom fed with vernal dew. In evil hour th' officious tongue of Fame Betray'd the secret of their mutual flame. With grief and anger struggling in his breast, Palemon's father heard the tale confest. Long had he listen'd with Suspicion's ear, And learnt, sagacious, this event to fear. Too well, fair youth ! thy liberal heart he knew ; A heart to Nature's warm impressions true! Full oft his wisdom strove, with fruitless toil. With avarice to pollute that generous soil: That soil impregnated with nobler seed, Refused the culture of so rank a weed. Elate with wealth, in active commerce won. And basking in the smile of Fortune's sun, With scorn the parent eyed the lowly shade That veil'd the beauties of this charming maid : Indignant he rebuked th' enamoured boy, The flattering promise of his future joy ! He soothed and menaced, anxious to reclaim This hopeless passion, or divert its aim: Oft led the youth where circling joys delight The ravish'd sense, or beauty charms the sight. With all her powers, enchanting Music fail'd, And Pleasure's syren voice no more prevail'd. The merchant, kindling then with proud disdain, In look and voice assumed a harsher strain ; In absence now his only hope remain'd, And such the stern decree his will ordain'd. Deep anguish, while Palemon heard his doom. Drew o'er his lovely face a saddening gloom. In vain with bitter sorrow he repined, No tender pity touch'd that sordid mind : To thee, brave Albert, was the charge consign'd. The stately ship, forsaking England's shore, To regions far remote Palemon bore. Incapable of change, th' unhappy youth S till loved fair Anna with eternal truth : From clime to clime an exile doom'd to roam. His heart still panted for its secret home. The moon had circled twice her wayward zone To him since young Arion first was known ; Who, wandering here through many a scene re- in Alexandria's port the vessel found ; [nown'd^ Where, anxious to review his native shore. He on the roaring wave embark'd once more. Oft, by pale Cynthia's melancholy light, With him Palemon kept the watch of night! In whose sad bosom many a sigh suppress'd, Some painful secret of the soul confess'd. Perhaps Arion soon the cause divined, Though shunning still to probe a wounded mind : He felt the chastity of silent wo, Though glad the balm of comfort to bestow ; He, with Palemon, oft recounted o'er The tales of hapless love, in ancient lore, Recall'd to memory by th' adjacent shore. The scene thus present, and its story known, The lover sigh'd for sorrows not his own. Thus, though a recent date their friendship bore, Soon the ripe metal own'd the quickening ore ; For in one tide their passions seem'd to roll, By kindred age and sympathy of soul. These o'er th' inferior naval train preside. The course determine, or the commerce guide : O'er all the rest, an undistinguish'd crew, Her wing of deepest shade Oblivion drew. A sullen languor still the skies opprest, And held th' unwilling ship in strong arrest. High in his chariot glow'd the lamp of day, O'er Ida, flaming with meridian ray: Relax'd from toil, the sailors range the shore. Where famine, war, and storm are felt no more : The hour to social pleasure they resign, And black remembrance drown in generous wine. On deck, beneath the shading canvass spread, Rodmond a rueful tale of wonders read, ^ Of dragons roaring on th' enchanted coast, The hideous goblin, and the yelling ghost — But with Arion from the sultry heat Of noon, Palemon sought a cool retreat. And lo ! the shore with mournful prospects crown'd ;* The rampart torn with many a fatal wound ; The ruin'd bulwark tottering o'er the strand ; Bewail the stroke of War's tremendous hand. What scenes of wo this hapless isle o'erspread ! Where late thrice fifty thousand warriors bled. Full twice twelve summers were yon tow'rs assail'd, Till barbarous Ottoman at last prevail'd ; While thundering mines the lovely plains o'erturn'd. While heroes fell, and domes and temples burn'd. But now before them happier scenes arise ! Elysian vales salute their ravish'd eyes : Olive and cedar form'd a grateful shade, Where light with gay romantic error stray'd. The myrtles here with fond caresses twine ; There, rich with nectar, melts the pregnant vine. And lo ! the stream renown'd in classic song. Sad Lethe, glides the silent vale along. On mossy banks, beneath the citron grove, The youthful wand'rers found a wild alcove : Soft o'er the fairy region Languor stole, And with sweet Melancholy charm'd the soul. Here first Palemon, while his pensive mind For consolation on his friend reclined, In Pity's bleeding bosom pour'd the stream Of love's soft anguish, and of grief supreme — Too true thy words I by sweet remembrance taught. My heart in secret bleeds with tender thought : In vain it courts the solitary shade, By every action, every look betray'd ! — The pride of generous wo disdains appeal To hearts that unrelenting frosts congeal : Yet sure, if right Palemon can divine, The sense of gentle pity dwells in thine. Yes ! all his cares thy sympathy shall know, And prove the kind companion of his wo. Albert thou know'st with skill and science graced. In humble station though by Fortune placed, Yet never seaman more serenely brave Led Britain's conquering squadrons o'er the wave. Where full in view Augusta's spires are seen. With flowery lawns and waving woods between, A peaceful dwelling stands in modest pride, Where Thames, slow-winding, rolls his ample tide. • The intelligent reader will readily discover, that these remarks allude to the ever memorable siege of Candia, which was taken from the Venetians by the Turks, in 1GG9 ; being then considered as impregnable, and esteem- ed the most formidable fortress in the universe. B u FALCONER. Canto 1. There live the hope and pleasure of his life, A pious daughter, with a faithful wife. For his return, with fond officious care, Still every grateful object these prepare ; Whatever can allure the smell or sight, Or wake the drooping spirits to delight. This blooming maid in virtue's path to guide, Her anxious parents all their cares applied : Her spotless soul, where soft Compassion reign'd. No vice untuned, no sick'ning folly stained. Not fairer grows the lily of the vale, Whose bosom opens to the vernal gale : Her eyes, unconscious of their fatal charms, Thrill'd every heart with exquisite alarms ; Her face, in Beauty's sweet attraction dress'd. The smile of maiden-innocence express'd; While Health, that rises with the new-born day. Breathed o'er her cheek the softest blush of May. Still in her look complacence smiled serene ; She moved the charmer of the rural scene. 'Twas at that season when the fields resume Their loveliest hues, array'd in vernal bloom ; Yon ship, rich freighted from th' Italian shore. To Thames' fair banks her costly tribute bore : While thus my father saw his ample hoard. From this return, with recent treasures stored, Me, with affairs of commerce charged, he sent To Albert's humble mansion ; soon I went — Too soon, alas ! unconscious of th' event — There, struck with sweet surprise and silent awe, The gentle mistress of my hopes I saw: There wounded first by Love's resistless arms. My glowing bosom throbb'd with strange alarms. My ever charming Anna ! who alone Can all the frowns of cruel fate atone ; O ! while all-conscious Memory holds her power. Can I forget that sweetly-painful hour. When from those eyes, with lovely lightning fraught. My fluttering spirits first th' infection caught: When as I gazed, my fault'ring tongue betray'd The heart's quick tumults, or refused its aid ; While the dim light my ravish'd eyes forsook, And every limb, unstrung with terror, shook ! With all her powers dissenting Reason strove To tame at first the kindling flame of Love ; She strove in vain ! subdued by charms divine. My soul a victim fell at Beauty's shrine. — Oft from the din of bustling life I stray'd. In happier scenes to see my lovely maid. Full oft, where Thames his wand'ring current leads, We roved at evening hour through flowery meads. There, while my heart's soft anguLsh I reveal'd. To her with tender sighs my hope appeal'd. While the sweet nymph my faithful tale believed. Her snowy breast with secret tumult heaved ; For, train'd in rural scenes from earliest youth Nature was hers, and innocence, and truth. She never knew the city damsel's art. Whose frothy pertness charms the vacant heart ! My suit prevail'd j for Love inform'd my tongue. And on his votary's lips persuasion hung. Her eyes with conscious sympathy withdrew. And o'er her cheek the rosy current flew. — Thrice happy hours ! where, with no dark allay. Life's fairest sunshine gilds the vernal day ! For here, the sigh that soft Affection heaves, From stings of sharper wo the soul relieves. Elysian scenes, too happy long to last ! Too soon a storm the smiling dawn o'ercast ! Too soon some demon to my father bore The tidings that his heart with anguish tore.— My pride to kindle, with dissuasive voice. Awhile he labour'd to degrade my choice; Then, in the whirling wave of Pleasure, sought From its loved object to divert my thought. With equal hope he might attempt to bind, In chains of adamant, the lawless wind : For Love had aim'd the fatal shaft too sure ; Hope fed the wound, and absence knew no cure. With alienated look, each art he saw Still baflled 'oy superior Nature's law. His anxious mind on various schemes revolved ; At last on cruel exile he resolved. The rigorous doom was fixed ! alas ! how vain To him of tender anguish to complain ! His soul, that never Love's sweet influence felt. By social sympathy could never melt ; With stern command to Albert's charge he gave, To waft Palemon o'er the distant wave. The ship was laden and prepared to sail, And only waited now the leading gale. 'Twas ours, in that sad period first to prove The heartfelt torments of despairing love : Th' impatient wish that never feels repose, Desire that with perpetual current flows ; The fluctuating pangs of hope and fear ; Joy distant still, and sorrow ever near ! Thus, while the pangs of thought severer grew. The western breezes inauspicious blew. Hastening the moment of our last adieu. The vessel parted on the falling tide ; Yet Time one sacred hour to Love supplied. The night was silent, and, advancing fast, The moon o'er Thames her silver mantle cast ; Impatient hope the midnight path explored. And led me to the nymph my soul adored. Soon her quick footsteps struck my listening ear ; She came confest ! the lovely maid drew near ! But ah ! what force of language can impart Th' impetuous joy that glow'd in either heart ! — ! ye, whose melting hearts are form'd to prove The trembling ecstasies of genuine love ! When, with delicious agony, the thought Is to the verge of high delirium wrought ; Your secret sympathy alone can tell What raptures then the throbbing bosom swell ; O'er all the nerves what tender tumults roll, While love with sweet enchantment melts the soul ! In transport lost, by trembling hope imprest, The blushing virgin sunk upon my breast ; While hers congenial beat with fond alarms; Dissolving softness ! paradise of charms ! Flash'd from our eyes, in warm transfusion flew Our blending spirits, that each other drew! O bliss supreme ! where Virtue's self can melt With joys that guilty Pleasure never felt ! Form'd to refine the thought with chaste desire. And kindle sweet Affection's purest fire ! Ah ! wherefore should my hopeless love, she cries While sorrow burst with interrupting sighs. For ever destined to lament in vain. Such flattering fond ideas entertain ? My heart through scenes of fair illusion stray'd To joys decreed for some superior maid. Canto 1. THE SHIPWRECK. 15 Tis mine to feel the sharpest stings of Grief, Where never gentle hopes afford relief. Go then, dear youth ! thy father's rage atone ! And let this tortured bosom beat alone ! The hovering anger yet thou may'st appease ; Go then, dear youth ! nor tempt the faithless seas ! Find out some happier daughter of the town, With Fortune's fairer joys thy love to crown ; Where smiling o'er thee with indulgent ray, Prosperity shall hail each new-born day. Too well thou know'st good Albert's niggard fate, 111 fitted to sustain thy father's hate ! Go then, I charge thee, by thy gen'rous love, That fatal to my father thus may prove : On me alone let dark Affliction fall, Whose heart for thee will gladly suffer all. Then, haste thee hence, Palemon, ere too late. Nor rashly hope to brave opposing Fate ! She ceased ; while anguish in her angel face O'er all her beauties shower'd celestial grace : Not Helen, in her bridal charms array'd, Was half so lovely as this gentle maid. O soul of all my wishes ! I replied, Can that soft fabric stem Affliction's tide ! Canst thou, fair emblem of exalted Truth ! To Sorrow doom the summer of thy youth ; And I, perfidious ! all that sweetness see Consign'd to lasting misery for me ? Sooner this moment may th' eternal doom Palemon in the silent earth entomb ! Attest, thou Moon, fair regent of the night! Whose lustre sickens at this mournful sight; By all the pangs divided lovers feel, That sweet possession only knows to heal ! By all the horrors brooding o'er the deep ! Where Fate and Ruin sad dominion keep ; Though tyrant duty o'er me threat'ning stands, And claims obedience to her stern commands; Should Fortune cruel or auspicious prove. Her smile or frown shall never change my love ! My heart, that now must every joy resign, Incapable of change, is only thine I — O cease to weep ! this storm will yet decay, And these sad clouds of Sorrow melt away. While through the rugged path of life we go, All mortals taste the bitter draught of wo : The famed and great, decreed to equal pain, Full oft in splendid wretchedness complain. For this Prosperity, with brighter ray, In smiling contrast gilds our vital day. Thou too, sweet maid ! ere twice ten months are o'er Shalt hail Palemon to his native shore. Where never Interest shall divide us more. Her struggling soul, o'erwhelm'd with tender grief Now found an interval of short relief; So melts the surface of the frozen stream. Beneath the wintry sun's departing beam. With warning haste the shades of night withdrew, And gave the signal of a sad adieu ! As on my neck th' afflicted maiden hung, A thousand racking doubts her spirit wrung : She wept the terrors of the fearful wave, Too oft, alas ! the wandering lover's grave ! With soft persuasion I dispell'd her fear, And from her cheek beguiled the falling tear, While dying fondness languish'd in her eyes, She pour'd her soul to heaven in suppliant sighs — Look down with pity, O ye Powers above ! Who hear the sad complaints of bleeding Love ! Ye, who the secret laws of Fate explore, Alone can tell if he returns no more : Or if the hour of future joy remain, Long-wish'd atonement of long-suffer'd pain.' Bid every guardian minister attend. And from all ill the much-loved youth defend ! — With grief o'erwhelm'd, we parted twice in vain. And, urged by strong attraction, met again. At last, by cruel Fortune torn apart. While tender passion stream'd in either heart; Our eyes transfix'd with agonizing look. One sad farewell, one last embrace we took. Forlorn of hope the lovely maid I left. Pensive and pale, of every joy bereft : She to her silent couch retired to weep. While her sad swain embark'd upon the deep. His tale thus closed, from sym pathy of grief, Palemon's bosom felt a sweet relief The hapless bird, thus ravished from the skies, Where all forlorn his loved companion flies, In secret long bewails his cruel fate, With fond remembrance of his winged mate: Till grown familiar with a foreign train. Composed at length, his sadly warbling strain, In sweet oblivion charms the sense of pain. Ye tender maids, in whose pathetic souls Compassion's sacred stream impetuous rolls; Whose v/arm affections exquisitely fee] The secret wound you tremble to reveal ! Ah ! may no wand'rer of the faithless main Pour through your breast the soft delicious bane! May never fatal tenderness approve The fond effusions of their ardent love. O! warn'd by friendship's counsel, learn to shun The fatal path where thousands are undone! Now as the youths, returning o'er the plain, Approach'd the lonely margin of the main. First, with attention roused, Arion eyed The graceful lover, form'd in Nature's pride. His frame the happiest symmetry display'd ; And locks of waving gold his neck array'd ; In every look the Paphian graces shine. Soft-breathing o'er his cheek their bloom divine. With lighten'd heart he smiled serenely gay. Like young Adonis or the son of May ; Not Cytherea from a fairer swain Received her apple on the Trojan plain ! The sun's bright orb, declining all serene. Now glanced obliquely o'er the woodland scene. Creation smiles around ; on every spray The warbling birds exalt their evening lay. Blithe skipping o'er yon hill, the fleecy train Join the deep chorus of the lowing plain : The golden lime and orange there were seen, On fragrant branches of perpetual green. The crystal streams, that velvet meadows lave. To the green ocean roll with chiding wave. The glassy ocean, hush'd, forgets to roar, But trembling murmurs on the sandy shore : And lo ! his surface, lovely to behold, Glows in the west, a sea of living gold ! While all above, a thousand liveries gay. The skies with pomp ineffable array, Arabian sweets perfume the happy plains : Above, beneath, around, enchantment reigns ! 16 FALCONER. Canto 1. While yet the shades, on Time's eternal scale, With long vibration deepen o'er the vale ; While yet the songsters of the vocal grove, With dying numbers tune the soul to love ; With joyful eyes th' attentive master sees Th' auspicious omens of an eastern breeze — Now radiant Vesper leads the starry train, And Night slow draws her veil o'er land and main. Round the charged bowl the sailors form a ring, By turns recount the wondrous tale, or sing ; As love or battle, hardships of the main. Or genial wine, awake the homely strain : Then some the watch of night alternate keep, The rest lie buried in oblivious sleep. Deep midnight now involves the livid skies, While infant breezes from the shore arise. The waning moon, behind a watery shroud, Pale glimmer'd o'er the long-protracted cloud; A mighty ring around her silver throne, With parting meteors cross'd portentous shone. This in the troubled sky full oft prevails; Oft deem'd a signal of tempestuous gales. — While young Arion sleeps, before his sight Tumultuous swim the visions of the night. Now blooming Anna, with her happy swain, Approach'd the sacred Hymeneal fane, Anon, tremendous lightnings flash between, And funeral pomp and weeping loves are seen ! Now with Palemon up a rocky steep Whose summit trembles o'er the roaring deep. With painful step he climb'd ; while far above Sweet Anna charm'd them with the voice of love, Then sudden from the slippery height they fell. While dreadful yawn'd beneath the jaws of hell. — Amid this fearful trance, a thundering sound He hears — and thrice the hollow decks rebound. Upstarting from his couch on deck he sprung ; Thrice with shrill note the boatswain'swhistle rung. All hands unmoor.' proclaims a boisterous cry; Allhands unmoor ! the cavern'd rocks reply ! Roused from repose aloft the sailors swarm. And with their levers soon the windlass arm.* The order given, upspringing with a bound. They lodge the bars, and wheel their engine round ; At every turn the clanging pauls resound. Uptorn reluctant from its oozy cave, The ponderous anchor rises o'er the wave : Along their slippery masts the yards ascend, And high in air the canvass wings extend : Redoubling cords the lofty canvass guide, And through inextricable mazes glide. The lunar rays with long reflection gleam, To light the vessel o'er the silver stream : Along the glassy plain serene she glides. While azure radiance trembles on her sides From east to north the transient breezes play, And in th' Egyptian quarter soon decay. A calm ensues ; they dread th' adjacent shore ; The boats with rowers arm'd are sent before : With cordage fasten'd to the lofty prow, Aloof to sea the stately ship they tow.t • The vpindlass is a sort of large roller, used to wind in the cable, or heave up the anchor. It is turned about vertically by a number of long bars or levers; in which operation, it is prevented from recoiling, by the pauls. t Towing is the operation of drawing a ship forward, by The nervous crew their sweeping oars extend, And pealing shouts the shore of Candia rend. Success attends their skill ; the danger's o'er : The port is doubled and beheld no more. Now Morn, her lamp pale glimmering on the sight, Scatter'd before her van reluctant Night. She comes not in refulgent pomp array'd, But sternly frowning, wrapt in sullen shade. Above incumbent vapours, Ida's height, , Tremendous rock ! emerges on the sight. North-east the guardian isle of Standia lies. And westward Freschin's woody capes arise. With winning postures, now the wanton sails Spread all their snares to charm th' inconstant gales. The swelling stud-sails* now their wings extend, Then stay-sails sidelong to the breeze ascend : While all to court the wandering breeze are placed ; With yards now thwarting, now obliquely braced. The dim horizon lowering vapours shroud. And blot the sun, yet struggling in the cloud : Through the wide atmosphere, condensed with haze. His glaring orb emits a sanguine blaze. The pilots now their rules of art apply. The mystic needle's devious aim to try. The compass, placed to catch the rising ray,t The quadrant's shadows studious they survey I Along the arch the gradual index slides. While Phoebus down the vertic circle glides. Now, seen on Ocean's utmost verge to swim, He sweeps it vibrant with his nether limb. Their sage experience thus explores the height And polar distance of the source of light : Then through the chiliads triple maze they trace Th' analogy that proves the magnet's place. The wayward steel, to truth thus reconciled. No more th' attentive pilot's eye beguiled. The natives, while the ship departs the land, Ashore with admiration gazing stand. Majestically slow, before the breeze. In silent pomp she marches on the seas ; Her milk-white bottom cast a softer gleam, While trembling through the green translucent stream. The wales.t that close above in contrast shone, Clasp the long fabric with a jetty zone. Britannia, riding awful on the prow. Gazed o'er the vassal wave that roll'd below : Where'er she moved the vassal waves were seen To yield obsequious and confess their queen. Th' imperial trident graced her dexter hand, Of power to rule the surge, like Moses' wand. means of ropes, extending from her fore part to one or more of the boats rowing before her. * Studding-sails are long, narrow sails, which are only used in tine weather and fair winds, on the outside of the larger square sails. Stay-sails are three-cornered sails, which are hoisted up on the stays, when the wind crosses the ship's course either directly or obliquely. t The operation of taking the sun's azimuth, in order to discover the eastern or western variation of the mag- netic needle. tThe wales, here alluded to, are an assemblage of strong planks which envelope the lower part of the ship's side, wherein they are broader and thicker tlian the rest, and appear somewhat like a range of hoops, which sepa- rates the bottom from the upper works. Canto II, THE SHIPWRECK. 17 Th' eternal empire of the main to keep, And guide her squadrons o'er the trembling deep. Her left, propitious, bore a mystic shield. Around whose margin rolls the watery field : There her bold Genius, in his floating car. O'er the wild billow hurls the storm of war — And lo ! the beast that oft with jealous rage In bloody combat met from age to age, Tamed into Union, yoked in Friendship's chain. Draw his proud chariot round the vanquish'd main. From the broad margin to the centre grew Shelves, rocks, and whirlpools, hideous lo the view I — Th' immortal shield from Neptune she received. When first her head above the waters heaved. Loose floated o'er her limbs an azure vest ; A figured scutcheon glitter'd on her breast ; There, from one parent soil, for ever young. The bloommg rose and hardy thistle sprung : Around her head an oaken wreath was seen, Inwove with laurels of unfading green. Such was the sculptured prow — from van to rear Th' artillery frown'd, a black tremendous tier! Embalm'd with orient gum, above the wave. The swelling sides a yellow radiance gave. On the broad stern a pencil warm and bold. That never servile rules of art controll'd, An allegoric tale on high portray'd. There a young hero, here a royal maid. Fair England's genius in the youth exprest. Her ancient foe, but now her friend confest, The warlike nymph with fond regard survey'd : No more his hostile frown her heart dismay 'd. His look, that once shot terror from afar. Like young Alcides, or the god of war. Serene as summer's evening skies she saw ; Serene, yet firm ; though mild, impressing awe. Her nervous arm, inured to toils severe, Brandish'd th' unconquer'd Caledonian spear. The dreadful falchion of the hills she wore. Sung to the harp in many a tale of yore, That oft her rivers dyed with hostile gore. Blue was her rocky shield ; her piercing eye Flash'd like the meteors of her native sky ; Her crest, high-plumed , was rough with many a scar, And o'er her helmet gleam'd the northern star. The warrior youth appear'd of noble frame, The hardy offspring of some Runic dame : Loose o'er his shoulders hung the slacken'd bow, Renown'd in song — the terror of the foe ! The sword, that oft the barbarous north defied. The scourge of tyrants ! glitter'd by his side. Clad in refulgent arms, in battle won. The George emblazon'd on his corslet shone. Fast by his side was seen a golden lyre. Pregnant with numbers of eternal fire : Whose strings unlock the witches' midnight spell. Or waft rapt Fancy through the gulfs of hell — Struck with contagion, kindling Fancy hears The songs of heaven, the music of the spheres ! Borne on Newtonian wing, through air she flies. Where other suns to other systems rise ! — These front the scene conspicuous — over head Albion's proud oak his filial branches spread ; While on the sea-beat shore obsequious stood, Beneath their feet, the father of the flood ; Here, the bold native of her cliffs above, Perch'd by the martial maid the bird of Jove ; There, on the watch, sagacious of his prey. With eyes of fire, an English mastiff lay. Yonder fair Commerce stretch'd her winged sail ; Here frown'd the god that wakes the living gale — High o'er the poop, the fluttering wings unfurl'd Th' imperial flag that rules the watery world. Deep blushing armours all the tops invest, And warlike trophies either quarter drest; [high ; Then tower'd the masts ; the canvass swell'd on And waving streamers floated in the sky, Thus the rich vessel moves in trim array. Like some fair virgin on her bridal day. Thus, like a swan she cleaves the watery plain; The pride and wonder of the Jilgean main. Canto II. ARGUMENT. Reflection on leaving the land. The gale continues. A water-spout. Beauty of a dying dolphin. The ship's progress along the shore. Wind strengthens. The sails reduced. A shoal of porpoises. Last appear- ance of Cape Spado. Sea rises. A squall. The sails further diminished. Mainsail split. Ship bears away before the wind. Again hauls upon the wind. An- other mainsail fitted to the yard. The gale still in- creases. Topsails furled. Topgallant yards sent down. Sea enlarges. Sunset. Courses reefed. Four seaman lost off the lee main yard-arm. Anxiety of the pilots from their dangerous situation. Resolute behaviour of the sailors. The ship labours in great distress. The artillery thrown overboard. Dismal appearance of the weather. Very high and dangerous sea. Severe fatigue of the crew. Consultation and resolution of the officers. Speech and advice of Albert to the crew. Necessary disposition to veer before the wind. Disappointment in the proposed elfect. New dispositions equally unsuccessful. The mizen mast cut away. The- scene lies in the sea, between Cape FrescTiin, in Candia, and thi Island of Falconera^ uuhich t> nearly twelve leagues northujard of Cape Spado^ — The time is from nine vn the morning till one o^cloch of the following morning. Adieu, ye pleasures of the rural scene. Where peace and calm contentment dwell serene! To me, in vain, on earth's prolific soil. With summer crown'd th' Elysian valleys smile ! To me those happier scenes no joy impart. But tantalize with hope my aching heart. For these, alas ! reluctant I forego. To visit storms and elements of wo ! Ye tempests ! o'er my head congenial roll, To suit the mournful music of my soul ! In black progression, lo ! they hover near — Hail, social Horrors ! like my fate severe ! Old Ocean, hail ! beneath whose azure zone The secret deep lies unexplored, unknown. Approach, ye brave companions of the sea. And fearless view this awful scene with me ! Ye native guardians of your country's laws ! Ye bold assertors of her sacred cause ! The muse invites you, judge if she depart, Unequal, from the precepts of your art. In practice train'd, and conscious of her power. Her steps intrepid meet the trying hour. O'er the smooth bosom of the faithless tides, Propell'd by gentle gales, the vessel glides. Rodmond, exulting, felt th' auspicious wind, And by a mystic charm its aim confined. — The thoughts of home, that o'er his fancy roll, With trembling joy dilate Palemon's soul : B 2 18 FALCONER. Canto II. Hope lifts his heart, before whose vivid ray Distress recedes, and danger melts away. Already Britain's parent cliffs arise, And in idea greet his longing eyes! Each amorous sailor too, with heart elate, Dwells on the beauties of his gentle mate. E'en they th' impressive dart of Love can feel, Whose stubborn souls are sheathed in triple steel. Nor less o'erjoy'd, perhaps with equal truth. Each faithful maid expects th' approaching youth. In distant bosoms equal ardours glow ; And mutual passions mutual joy bestow. — Tall Ida's summit now more distant grew, And Jove's high hill was rising on the view; When, from the left approaching, they descry A liquid column, towering, shoot on high : The foaming base an angry whirlwind sweeps, Where curling billows rouse the fearful deeps : Still round and round the fluid vortex flies, Scattering dun night and horror through the skies. The swift volution and th' enormous train Let sages versed in Nature's lore explain ! The horrid apparition still draws nigh, And white with foam the whirling surges fly ; The guns were primed— the vessel northward veers, Till her black battery on the column bears. The nitre fired ; and while the dreadful sound. Convulsive, shook the slumbering air around. The watery volume, trembling to the sky, Burst down the dreadful deluge from on high ; Th' affrighted surge, recoiling as it fell. Rolling in hills disclosed th' abyss of hell. But soon this transient undulation o'er, The sea subsides, the whirlwinds rage no more. While southward now th' increasing breezes veer. Dark clouds incumbent on their wings appear. In front they view the consecrated grove Of Cypress, sacred once to Cretan Jove. The thirsty canvass, all around supplied. Still drinks unquench'd the full aerial tide ; And now, approaching near the lofty stern, A shoal of sportive dolphins they discern. From burnish'd scales they beam'd refulgent rays, Till all the glowing ocean seems to blaze. Soon to the sport of death the crew repair. Dart the long lance, or spread the baited snare. One in redoubling mazes wheels along. And glides, unhappy! near the triple prong. Rodmond, unerring, o'er his head suspends The barbed steel, and every turn attends. Unerring aim'd the missile weapon flew, /^nd plunging, struck the fated victim through. Th' upturning points his ponderous bulk sustain ; On deck he struggles with convulsive pain. But while his heart the fatal javelin thrills And flitting life escapes in sangmne nils. What radiant changes strike th' astonished sight What glowing hues of mingled shade and light! Not equal beauties gild the lucid west With parting beams all o'er profusely d rest , Not lovelier colours paint the vernal dawn. When orient dews impearl th' enamell'd lawn. Than from his sides in bright suffusion flow, Tha now with gold empyreal seem'd to glow ; NovJ "n pellucid sapphires meet the view, And emulate the soft celestial hue; Now beam a flaming crimson on the eye ; And now assume the purple's deeper dye. ^ But here description clouds each shining ray— What terms of Art can Nature's powers display . Now, while on high the freshening gale she leels, The ship beneath her lofty pressure reels. Th' auxiliar sails that court a gentle breeze. From their high stations sink by slow degrees. The watchful ruler of the helm no more With fix'd attention eyes th' adjacent shore ; But by the oracle of truth below. The wondrous magnet, guides the wayward prow.- The wind, that still th' impressive canvass swe I d, Swift and more swift the yielding bark impell d. Impatient thus she glides along the coast. Till, far behind, the hill of Jove is lost: And while aloof from Retimo she steers, Malacha's foreland full in front appears. Wide o'er yon isthmus stands the cypress grove That once enclosed the hallow'd fane of Jove. Here too, memorial of his name ! is found A tomb, in marble ruins on the ground. This gloomy tyrant, whose triumphant yoke The trembling states around to slavery broke ; Through Greece, for murder, rape, and incest known, The muses raised to high Olympus throne.— For oft, alas ! their venal strains adorn The prince whom blushing Virtue holds in scorn. Still Rome and Greece record his endless fame. And hence yon mountain yet retains his name. But see ! in confluence borne before the blast. Clouds roll'd on clouds the dusky noon o'ercast ; The blackening ocean curls ; the winds arise ; And the dark scud* in swift succession flies. While the swoln canvass bends the masts on high, Low in the wave the leeward cannon lie,t The sailors now, to give the ship relief, Reduce the topsails by a single reef.| Each lofty yard with slacken'd cordage reels. Rattle the creaking blocks and ringing wheels. Down the tall masts the topsails sink amain ; And, soon reduced, assume their post again. More distant grew receding Candia's shore ; And southward of the west Cape Spado bore. Four hours the sun his high meridian throne Had left, and o'er Atlantic regions shone : Still blacker clouds, that all the skies invade, Draw o'er his sullied orb a dismal shade. A squall deep lowering blots the southern sky. Before whose boisterous breath the waters fly. Its weight the topsails can no more sustain: ' Reef topsails, reef!' the boatswain calls again ! * Scud is a name given by seamen to the lowest clouds, which are driven with great rapidity along the atmo- sphere, in squally or tempestuous weather. t When the wind crosses a ship's course, either directly or obliquely, that side of the ship upon which it acts, is called the weather side : and the opposite one, which is then pressed downwards, is called the lee side. Hence all the rigging and furniture of the ship are, at this time, distinguished by the side, on which they are situ- ated ; as the lee cannon, the lee braces, the weather braces, &c. + The topsails are large square sails, of the second degree in height and magnitude. Reefs are certain divisions or spaces by which the principal sails are re- duced when the wind increases; and again enlarged proportionably, when its force abates. Canto II. THE SHIPWRECK. 19 The haliards* and top-bo w-linest soon are gone, To clue-linest and reef-tackles next they run : The shivering sails descend ; and now they square The yards, while ready sailors mount in air. The weather-earings^ and the lee they past ; The reefs enroll'd, and every point made fast. Their task above thus finish'd, they descend, And vigilant th' approaching squall attend. It comes resistless ; and with foaming sweep. Upturns the whitening surface of the deep. In such a tempest, borne to deeds of death. The wayward sisters scour the blasted heath. With ruin pregnant now the clouds impend. And storm and cataract tumultuous blend. Deep on her side the reeling vessel lies — " Brail up the mizen,l| quick !" the master cries, " Man the clue-garnets !ir let the main sheet fly !"** The boisterous squall still presses from on high. And swift, and fatal, as the lightning's course. Through the torn mainsail bursts with thundering force. While the rent canvass flutter'd in the wind. Still on her flank the stooping bark inclined. — ' Bear up the helmtt a-weather !" Rodmond cries ; Swift, at the word, the helm a-weather flies. The prow, with secret instinct veers apace : And now the foresail right athwart they brace ; With equal sheets restrain'd, the bellying sail Spreads a broad concave to the sweeping gale. While o'er the foam the ship impetuous flies, Th' attentive timoneertt the helm applies. As in pursuit along the aerial way, With ardent eye the falcon marks his prey. * Haliards are either single ropes or tackles, by which the sails are hoisted up and lowered, when the sail is to be extended or reduced. t Bow-lines are ropes extended to keep the windward edge of the sail steady, and to prevent it from shaking in an unfavourable wind. t Clue-lines are ropes used to truss up the clues, or lower corners of the principal sails to their respective yards, particularly when the sail is to be close reefed or furled. — Reef tackles are ropes employed to facilitate the operation of reefing, by confining the extremities of the reef close up to the yard, so that the interval becomes slack, and is therefore easily rolled up and fastened to the yard by the points employed for this purpose. § Barings are small cords, by which the upper corners of the principal sails, and also the extremities of the reefs, are fastened to the yard-arms. li The mizen is a large sail of an oblong figure, extended upon the mizen mast. H Clue garnets are employed for the same purposes on the mainsail and foresail, as the clue-lines are upon all other square sails. See note i, above. ** It is necessary in this place to remark that the sheets, which are universally mistaken by the EngUsh poets and their readers for the sails themselves, are no other than the ropes used to extend the clues or lovrer corners of the sails to which they are attached. To the mainsail and foresail there is a sheet and a tack on each side ; the latter of which is a thick rope, serving to confine the weather clue of the sail down to the ship's side, whilst the former draws out of the lee-clue or lower corner on the opposite side. Tacks are only used in a side wind. tt The helm is said to be a-tceather, when the bar by ■which it is managed is turned to the sideof the ship next the wind. tt Timoneer, (from timonnier, Fr.) the helmsman or steersman. Each motion watches of the doubtful chase. Obliquely wheeling through the liquid space ; So, govern'd by tlie steersman's glowing hands, The regent helm her motion still commands. But now the transient squall to leeward past, Again she rallies to the sullen blast. The helm to starboard* turns — with wings inclined. The sidelong canvass clasps the faithless wind. The mizen draws ; she springs aloof once more, While the ibre-staysailt balances before. The fore-sail braced obliquely to the wind. They near the prow th' extended tack confined ; Then on the leeward sheet the seamen bend. And haul the bow-line to the bowsprit end. To topsails next they haste — the bunt-lines gone. The clue-lines through their wheel'd machinery run. On either side below the sheets are mann'd : Again the fluttering sails their skirts expand. Once more the topsails, though with humbler plume. Mounting aloft their ancient post resume. Again the bow-lines and the yards are braced,! And all th' entangled cords in order placed. The sail, by whirlwinds thus so lately rent. In tatter'd ruins fluttering, is unbent. With brails^ refix another soon prepared. Ascending, spreads along beneath the yard. To each yard-arm the head rope|| they extend. And soon their earings and the roebinsT bend. That task perform'd, they first the braces** slack, Then to its station drag th' unwilling tack ; And, while the lee clue-garnet's lower'd away. Taught aft the sheet they tally and belay .tt Now to the north, from Afric's burning shore, A troop of porpoises their course explore ; In curling wreaths they gambol on the tide, Now bound aloft, now down the billow glide. Their tracks awhile the hoary waves retain. That burn in sparkling trails along the main. These fleetest coursers of the finny race, When threat'ning clouds th' etherial vault deface, Their rout to leeward still sagacious form, To shun the fury of th' approaching storm. , * The helm being turned to starboard, or to the right side of the ship, directs the prow to the left, or to port, and vice, versa. Hence the helm being put a starboard, when the ship is running northward, directs her prow towards the west. t This sail, wrhich is with more propriety called the fore-topmast-staysail, is a triangular sail, that runs upon the fore-topmast-stay, over the bowsprit. It is used to command the fore part of the ship, and counterbalance the sails extended towards the stern. See also the last note of this Canto. t A yard is said to be braced when it is turned aboutthe mast horizontally, either to the right or left ; the ropes employed in this service are accordingly called braces. '' § The ropes used to truss up a sail to the yard or mast whereto it is attached are,in a general sense, called brails. I The head-rope is a cord to which the upper part of the sail is sewed. H Rope-bands, pronounced roebins, are small cords used to fasten the upper edge of any sail to its respective yard. ** Because the lee-brace confines the yard so that the tack will not come down to its place till the braces are cast loose. tt Taught implies stiff; tense, or extended straight ; and tally is a phrase particularly applied to the operation of hauling a/n,he sheets, or drawing them towards the ship's stern. To belaij is to fasten. 20 FALCONER. Canto 11. Fair Candia now no more beneath her lee Protects the vessel from th' insulting sea : Round her broad arms, impatient of control, Roused from their secret deeps, the billows roll. Sunk were the bulwarks of the friendly shore, And all the scene an hostile aspect wore. The flattering wind, that late, with promised aid. From Candia's bay th' unwilling ship betray'd. No longer fawns beneath the fair disguise. But like a ruffian on his quarry flies. — Tost on the tide she feels the tempest blow, And dreads the vengeance of so fell a Ibe. As the proud horse, with costly trappings gay. Exulting, prances to the bloody fray, Spurning the ground, he glories in his might, But reels tumultuous in the shock of fight : Even so caparison'd in gaudy pride. The bounding vessel dances on the tide — Fierce, and more fierce the sonlhern demon blew. And more incensed the roaring waters grew : The ship no longer can her topsails spread. And every hope of fairer skies is fled. Bow-lines and haliards are relax'd again. Clue-lines haul'd down, and sheets let fly amain ; Clued up each top-sail, and by braces squared. The seamen climb aloft on either yard ; They furl'd the sail, and pointed to the wind The yard, by rolling tackles* then confined. While o'er the ship the gallant boatswain flies : Like a hoarse mastiff through the storm he cries : Prompt to direct th' unskilful still appears ; Th' expert he praises, and the fearful cheers. Now some to strike top-gallant yards attend ;t Some travellerst up the weather-backstays^ send ; At each mast-head the top-ropes|| others bend. The youngest sailors from the yards above Their parrels.lT lifts,** and braces soon remove : Then topt an-end, and to travellers tied, [slide^ Charged with their sails, they down the backstays The yards secure along the boomstt reclined, While some the flying cords aloft confined. — * The rolling tackle is an assemblage of pulleys, used to confine the yard to the weather-sido of the mast, and prevent the former from rubbing against the latter by the fluctuating motion of the ship in a turbulent sea. t It is usual to send down the top-gallant yards on the approach of a storm. They are the highest yards that are rigged in a ship. I Travellers are slender iron rings, encircling the backstays, and used to facilitate the hoisting or lowering of the top-gallant yards, by confining them to the back- stays, in their ascent or descent, so as to prevent them from swinging about by the agitation of the vessel. § Backstays are long ropes extending from the right and left side of the ship to the top-mast heads, which they are intended to secure, by counteracting the effort of the wind upon the sails. II Top-ropes are the cords by which the top-gallant yards are hoisted up from the deck, or lowered again in stormy weather. It The parrel, which is usually a movable band of rope, is employed to confine the yard to its respective mast. ** Lifts are ropes extending from the head of any mast to the extremities of its particular yard, to support the weight of the latter ; to retain it in balance ; or to raise one yard-arm higher than the other, which is accord- ingly called topping. tt The booms, in this place, imply any masts or yards lying on deck in reserve, to supply the place of others which may be carried away by distress of weather, &c. Their sails reduced, and all the rigging clear, A while the crew relax from toils severe. A while their spirits, with fatigue opprest, In vain expect th' alternate hour of rest : But with redoubling force the tempests blow, And watery hills in fell succession flow ; A dismal shade o'ercasts the frowning skies ; New troubles grow ; new difficulties rise. No season this from duty to descend ! — All hands on deck th' eventful hour attend. His race perform'd, the sacred lamp of day Now dipt in western clouds his parting ray. His sick'ning fires, half-lost in ambient haze. Refract along the dusk a crimson blaze ; Till deep immerged the languid orb declines. And now to cheerless night the sky resigns ! Sad evening's hour, how different from the past ! No flaming pomp, no blushing glories cast; No ray of friendly light is seen around : The moon and stars in hopeless shade are drown'd. The ship no longer can her courses* bear : To reef the courses is the master's care : The sailors, summon'd aft, a daring band ! Attend th' enfolding brails at his command. But here the doubtful officers dispute, 'Till skill and judgment prejudice confute. Rodmond, whose genius never soar'd beyond The narrow rules of art his youth had conn'd. Still to the hostile fury of the wind Released the sheet, and kept the tack confined ; To long-tried practice obstinately warm, He doubts conviction, and relies on form. But the sage master this advice declines ; With whom Arion in opinion joins. — The watchful seaman, whose sagacious eye On sure experience may with truth rely. Who from the reigning cause foretells th' effect. This barbarous practice ever will reject. For, fluttering loose in air, the rigid sail Soon flits to ruins in the furious gale ! And he who strives the tempest to disarm. Will never first embrail the lee-yard arm. The master said ; — obedient to command, To raise the tack, the ready sailors standt — Gradual it loosens, while th' involving clue, Swell'd by the wind, aloft unruffling flew. The sheet and weather-brace they now stan^ by;t The lee clue-garnet and the bunt-lines ply. Thus all prepared. Let go the sheet ! he cries ; Impetuous round the ringing wheels it flies : Shivering at first, till by the blast impell'd. High o'er the lee-yard arm the canvass swell'd : «The courses are generally understood to be the mainsail, foresail, and mizen, which are the largest and lowest sails of their several masts ; the term is, however, sometimes taken in a larger sense. tit has been remarked before in note **, p. 19, col. I, that the tack is always fastened to windward; accordingly, as soon as it is cast loose, and the clue-garnet hauled up, the weather clue of the sail immediately mounts to the yard : and this operation must be carefully performed in a storm, to prevent the sail from splitting or being torn to pieces by shivering. X It is necessary to pull in the weather-brace when- ever the sheet is cast off, to preserve the sail from shak- ing violently. Canto II. THE SHIPWRECK. 21 By spilling-lines* embraced, with brails confined It lies at length unshaken by the wind. The foresail then secured with equal care, Again to reef the mainsail they repair. — While some, high-mounted, overhaul the tye, Below the down-haul tacklet others ply. Jears,! lifts, and brails, a seaman each attends. Along the mast the willing yard descends. When lower'd sufficient, they securely brace. And fix'd the rolling-tackle in its place ; The reef-lines§ and their earings now prepared, Mounting on pliant shrouds.H they man the yard. Far on th' extremes two able hands appear, Arion there, the hardy boatswain here ; That in the van to front the tempest hung ; This round the lee yard-arm, ill-omen'd ! clung. Each earing to its station first they bend ; The reef-bandlT then along the yard extend : The circling earings, round Ih' extremes entwined. By outer and by inner turns** they bind. From hand to hand the reef-lines next received. Through eye-let holes and roebin legs were reeved. The reef in double folds involved they lay ; Strain the firm cord, and either end belay. Hadst thou, Arion ! held the leeward post, While on the yard by mountain billows tost, Perhaps oblivion o'er our tragic tale Had then for ever drawn her dusky veil. — But ruling heaven prolong'd thy vital date. Severer ills to suffer and relate ! For, while their orders those aloft attend, To furl the mainsail, or on deck descend, A seatt up surging with tremendous roll. To instant ruin seems to doom the whole. " O friends ! secure your hold !" Arion cries ; It comes all dreadful, stooping from the skies ; * The spilling-lines, which are only used on particular occasions in tempestuous weather, are employed to draw together and confine the belly of the sail, when it is inflated by the wind over the yard. t The violence of the wind forces the yard so much outward from the mast on these occasions, that it cannot easily be lowered so as to reef the sail, without the ap- plication of a tackle to haul it down on the mast. This is afterwards converted into rolling tackle. See note ', 1st col. p. 20. t Jears are the same to the mainsail, foresail, and mizen, as the haliards (note *, 1st col. p. 19) are to all inferior sails. The tye is the upper part of the jears. § Reef-lines are only used to reef the mainsail and foresail. They are past in spiral turns through the eye- let holes of the reef, and over the head of the sails between the rope-band legs, till they reach the extremi- ties of the reef, to which they are firmly extended, so as to lace the reef close up to the yard. II Shrouds are thick ropes, stretching from the mast- heads downwards to the outside of the ship, serving to support the masts. They are also used as a range of rope-ladders, by which the seamen ascend or descend, to perform whatever is necessary about the sails and rigging. IT The reef-band is a long piece of canvass sewed across the sail, to strengthen the canvass in the place where the eye let holes of the reef are formed. *" The outer turns of the earing serve to extend the sail along the yard ; and the inner turns are employed to confine its head-rope close to its surface. See note II, 2d col. p. 19. tt A sea is the general name given by sailors to a single wave or billow : hence, when a wave bursts over the dock, the vessel is said to have shijiped a sea. \ Uplifted on its horrid edge she feels The shock, and on her side half-buried reels : The sail half bury'd in the whelming wave, A fearful warning to the seamen gave : While from its margin, terrible to tell ! Three sailors, with their gallant boatswain, fell. Torn with resistless fury from their hold. In vain their struggling arms the yard infold : In vain to grapple flying cords lliey try, The cords, alas ! a solid gripe deny ! Prone on the midnight surge, with panting breath They cry for aid, and long contend with Death. High o'er their heads the rolling billows sweep. And down they sink in everlasting sleep. Bereft of power to help, their comrades see The wretched victims die beneath the lee ! With fruitless sorrow their lost state bemoan ; Perhaps a fatal prelude to their own I In dark suspense on deck the pilots stand. Nor can determine on the next command. Though still they knew the vessel's armed side Impenetrable to the clasping tide ,- Though still the waters by no secret wound A passage to her deep recesses found ; Surrounding evils yet they ponder o'er — A storm, a dangerous sea, and leeward shore ! Should they, though reef 'd, again their sails extend. Again in fluttering fragments they may rend i Or should they stand, beneath tJie dreadful strain, The down-press'd ship may never rise again ; Too late to weather* now Morea's land. Yet verging fast to Athen's rocky strand. — Thus they lament the consequence severe, Where perils unallay'd by hope appear. Long in their minds revolving each event, At last to furl the courses they consent ; That done, to reef the mizen next agree. And try,t beneath it, sidelong in the sea. Now down the mast the sloping yard declined. Till by the jears and topping liftj confined ; The head, with doubling canvass fenced around. In balance near the lofty peak, they bound. The reef en wrapt, th' inserted knittles tied. To hoist the shorten'd sail again they hied. The order given, the yard aloft they sway'd ; The brails relax'd, th' extended sheet belay'd : The helm its post forsook, and lash'd a-lee,$ Inclined the wayward prow to front the sea. When sacred Orpheus, on the Stygian coast. With notes divine implored his consort lost ; * To weather a shore is to pass to the windward of it, which at this time is prevented by the violence of tlie storm. t To try, is to lay the ship, with her near side in the direction of the wind and sea, with the head somewhat inclined to the windward ; the helm being laid a-lee to retain her in this position. See a farther illustration of this in the last note of this Canto. I The topping lift, which tops the upper part of the mizen-yard, (see note **, p. 20.) This line and the six following describe the operation of reefing and balanc- ing the mizen. The reef of this sail is towards the lower end, the knittles being small short lines used in the room of points for this purpose, (see note t, 1st col. p. 19, and note", p. 20;) they are accordingly knotted under the foot-rope or lower edge of the sail. § Lash'd a-lee is fastened to tlie lee-side. See note t, p. 18. 22 FALCONER. Canto II. Though round him perils grew in fell array, And fates and furies stood to bar his way ; Not more adventurous was the attempt, to move The powers of hell with strains of heavenly love, Thau mine, to bid the unwilling Muse explore The wilderness of rude mechanic lore. Such toil th' unwearied Daedalus endured, When in the Cretan labyrinth immured ; Till Art her salutary help bestow'd. To guide him through that intricate abode. Thus long entangled in a thorny way. That never heard the sweet Pifrian lay. The Muse that tuned to barbarous sounds her string, Now spreads, like Dasdalus, a bolder wing; The verse begins in softer strains to flow. Replete with sad variety of wo. As yet, amid this elemental war. That scatters desolation from afar, Nor toil, nor hazard, nor distress appear To sink the seamen with unmanly fear. Though their firm hearts no pageant honour boast. They scorn the wretch that trembles in his post ; Who from the face of danger strives to turn, Indignant from the social hour they spurn. Though now full oft they felt the raging tide In proud rebellion climb the vessel's side, No future ills unknown their souls appal ; They know no danger, or they scorn it all ! But e'en the generous spirits of the brave. Subdued by toil, a friendly respite crave : A short repose alone their thoughts implore. Their harass'd powers by slumber to restore. Far other cares the master's mind employ ; Approaching perils all his hopes destroy. In vain he spreads the graduated chart, And bounds the distance by the rules of art ; In vain athwart the mimic seas expands The compasses to circumjacent lands. Ungrateful task ! for no asylum traced A passage open'd from the watery waste; Fate seem'd to guard, with adamantine mound, The path to every friendly port around. While Albert thus, with secret doubts dismay'd. The geometric distances survey'd. On deck the watchful Redmond cries aloud, " Secure your lives I grasp every man a shroud !" — Roused from his trance, he mounts with eyes aghast ; When o'er the ship, in undulation vast, A giant surge down rushes from on high. And fore and aft dissever'd ruins lie. — As when, Britannia's empire to maintain, Great Hawke descends in thunder on the main, Around the brazen voice of battle roars. And fatal lightnings blast the hostile shores ; Beneath the storm their shatter'd navies groan, The trembling deep recoils from zone to zone : Thus the torn vessel felt th' enormous stroke : The boats beneath the thundering deluge broke. Forth started from their planks the bursting rings, Th' extended cordage all asunder springs ; The pilot's fair machinery strews the deck, And cards and needles swim in floating wreck. The balanced mizen, rending to the head, In streaming ruins from the margin fled. The sides convulsive shook on groaning beams. And, rent with labour, yawn'd the pitchy seams ; | They sound the well,* and, terrible to hear I Five feet immersed along the line appear. At eitlier pump they ply the clanking brake,t And turn by turn th' ungrateful office take. Redmond, Arion, and Palemon here, At this sad task, all diligent appear. As some fair castle, shook by rude alarms, Opposes long th' approach of hostile arms ; Grim war around her plants his black array, And death and sorrow mark his horrid way ; Till, in some destined hour; against her wall In tenfold rage the fatal thimders fall : The ramparts crack, the solid bulwarks rend. And hostile troops the shatter'd breach ascend. Her valiant inmates sliU the foe retard. Resolved till death their sacred charge to guard. So the brave mariners their pumps attend. And help, incessant, by rotation lend ; But all in vain, — for now the sounding cord, Updrawn, an undiminish'd depth explored. Nor this severe distress is found alone ; The ribs, oppress'd by ponderous cannon, groan ; Deep rolling from the watery volume's height. The tortured sides seem bursting with their weight So reels Pelorus with convulsive throes. When in his veins the burning earthquake glows ; Hoarse through his entrails roars th' infernal flame, And central thunders rend his groaning frame. — Accumulated mischiefs thus arise, And Fate, vindictive, all their skill defies. One only remedy the season gave ; To plunge the nerves of battle in the wave : From their high platforms, thus, th' artillery thrown. Eased of their load, the timbers less shall groan: But arduous is the task their lot requires ; A task that hovering fate alone inspires : For while intent the yawning decks to ease, That ever and anon are drench'd with seas, Some fatal billow with recoiling sweep. May hurl the helpless wretches in the deep. No season this for counsel or delay ! Too soon th' eventful moments haste away ! Here perseverance, with each help of art. Must join the boldest eflTorts of the heart ; These only now their misery can relieve ; These only now a dawn of safety give ! While o'er the quivering deck, from van to rear. Broad surges roll in terrible career, Rodmond, Arion, and a chosen crew. This office in tlie face of death pursue ; The wheel'd artillery o'er the deck to guide, Rodmond descending claim'd the weather side : Fearless of heart the chief his orders gave. Fronting the rude assaults of every wave, [deep. Like some strong watch-tower, nodding o'er the Whose rocky base the foaming waters sweep, Untamed he stood ; the stern aerial war Had marked his honest face with many a scar. — Meanwhile Arion, traversing the waist,t * The well is an apartment in the ship's hold, serving to enclose the pumps. It is sounded by dropping a mea- sured iron rod down into it by a long line. Hence the m- crease or diminution of the leaks are easily discovered. •• t The brake is the lever or handle of the pump, by which it is wrought. t The waist of a ship of this kind is a hollow space, about five feet in depth, between the elevations of the Canto II. THE SHIPWRECK. 23 The cordage of the leeward-guns unbraced, And pointed crows beneath the metal placed. Watching the roll, their forelocks they withdrew, And from their beds the reeling cannon threw : Then from the windward battlements unbound, Redmond's associates wheel'd th' artillery round ; Pointed with iron fangs, their bars beguile The ponderous arms across the steep defile ; Then, hurl'd from sounding hinges o'er the side, Thundering they plunge into the flashing tide. The ship, thus eased, some little respite finds In this rude conflict of the seas and winds. Such ease Alcides felt, when, clogg'd with gore, Th' envenomed mantle from his side he tore ; When, stung with burning pain, he strove too late To stop the swift career of cruel fate. Yet then his heart one ray of hope procured, Sad harbinger of sevenfold pangs endured ! Such, and so short the pause of wo she found! Cimmerian darkness shades the deep around. Save when the lightnings, gleaming on the sight. Flash through the gloom, a pale disastrous light. Above, all ether, fraught with scenes of wo, With grim destruction threatens all below. Beneath, the storm-lash'd surges furious rise. And wave uproll'd on wave, assails the skies ; With ever-floating bulwarks they surround The ship, half-swallow'd in the black profound ! With ceaseless hazard and fatigue opprest. Dismay and anguish every heart possest! For, while with boundless inundation o'er The sea-beat ship th' involving waters roar, Displaced beneath by her capacious womb. They rage their ancient station to resume ; By secret ambushes their force to prove. Through many a winding channel first they rove ; Till, gathering fury, like the fever'd blood. Through her dark veins they roll a rapid flood. While unrelenting thus the leaks they found. The pump with ever-clanking strokes resound, Around each leaping valve, by toil subdued, The tough bull hide must ever be renew'd. Their sinking hearts unusual horrors chill : And down their wearj' limbs thick dews distil. No ray of light their dying hope redeems ! Pregnant with some new wo each moment teems. Again the chief th' instructive draught extends. And o'er the figured plain attentive bends : To him the motion of each orb was known, That wheels around the sun's refulgent throne : But here alas ! his science naught avails ! Art droops unequal, and experience fails. The difl^erent traverses, since twilight made. He on the hydrographic circle laid ; Then the broad angle of lee-way* explored, As swept across the graduated chord. Her place discovered by the rules of art. Unusual terrors shook the master's heart ; When Falconera's rugged isle he found. Within her drift, with shelves and breakers bound For, if on those destructive shallows tost. The helpless bark with all her crew are lost : quarter-deck and fore-castle, and having the upper deok for its base, or platform. * The lee-way, or drift, which in this place are synony- mous terms, is the movement by which a ship is driven sideways at the mercy of the wind and sea, when she is deprived of the government of the sails and helm. As fatal still appears, that danger o'er, The steep St. George, and rocky Gardalor. With him the pilots, of their hopeless state In mournful consultation now debate. Not more perplexing doubts her chiefs appal, When some proud city verges to her fall ; While Ruin glares around, and pale Affi-ight Convenes her councils in the dead of night — No blazon'd trophies o'er their concave spread. Nor storied pillars raised aloft their head : But here the Queen of shade around them threw Her dragon wing, disastrous to the view ! Dire was the scene, with whirlwind, hail, andshowerj Black Melancholy ruled the fearful hour! Beneath tremendous roll'd the flashing tide, Where Fate on every billow seem'd to ride — Enclosed with ills, by peril unsubdued. Great in distress the master-seaman stood : Skill'd to command ; deliberate to advise ; Expert in action ; and in council wise ; Thus to his partners, by the crew unheard, The dictates of his soul the chief referr'd. " Ye faithful mates, who all my troubles share. Approved companions of your master's care ! To you, alas ! 'twere fruitless now to tell Our sad distress, already known too well ! This morn with favouring gales the port we left, Though now of every flattering hope bereft : No skill nor long experience could forecast Th' unseen approach of this destructive blast. These seas, where storms at various seasons blow. No reigning winds nor certain omens know. The hour, the occasion all your skill demands ; A leaky ship, embay'd by dangerous lands. Our bark no transient jeopardy surrounds ; Groaning she lies beneath unnumber'd wounds: 'Tis ours the doubtful remedy to find. To shun the fury of the seas and wind ; For in this hollow swell, with labour sore. Her flank can bear the bursting floods no more : Yet this or other ills she must endure ; A dire disease, and desperate is the cure ! Thus two expedients oflTer'd to your choice. Alone require your counsel and your voice. These only in our power are left to try ; To perish here or from the storm to fly. The doubtful balance in my judgment cast. For various reasons I prefer the last. 'Tis true the vessel and her costly freight. To ro.e consign'd, my orders only wait ; Yet, since the charge of every life is mine, To equal votes our counsels I resign. Forbid it. Heaven, that, in this dreadful hour, I claim the dangerous reins of purblind power ! But should we now resolve to bear away. Our hopeless stale can suffer no delay, Nor can we, thus bereft of every sail. Attempt to steer obliquely on the gale : For then, if broaching sideward on the sea. Our dropsied ship may founder on the lee : No more obedient to the pilot's power, [vour." Th' o'erwhelming wave may soon her frame de- He said ; the listening mates with fix'd regard And silent reverence his opinion heard. Important was the question in debate, And o'er their councils hung impending Fate. Rodmond, in many a scene of peril tried, Had oft the master's happier skill descried, 24 FALCONER. Canto II. Yet now, the hour, the scene, th' occasion known, Perhaps with equal right preferr'd his own Of long experience in the naval art, Blunt was his speech, and naked was his heart : Alike to him each climate and each blast ; The first in danger, in retreat the last : Sagacious balancing th' opposed events. From Albert his opinion thus dissents. " Too true the perils of the present hour. Where toils succeeding toils our strength o'er- power ! Yet whither can we turn, what road pursue, With death before still opening on the view ? Our bark, 'tis true, no shelter here can find, Sore shatter'd by the ruffian seas and wind ; Yet with what hope of refuge can we flee, Chased by this tempest and outrageous sea ? For while its violence the tempest keeps. Bereft of every sail we roam the deeps ; At random driven, to present death we haste. And one short hour perhaps may be our last. In vain the Gulf of Corinth on our lee Now opens to her ports a passage free ; Since, if before the blast the vessel flies. Full in her track unnumber'd dangers rise. Here Falconera spreads her lurking snares ; There distant Greece her rugged shelves prepares ; Should once her bottom strike that rocky shore. The splitting bark that instant were no more ; Nor she alone, but with her all the crew. Beyond relief, were doom'd to perish too. Thus if to scud too rashly we consent. Too late in fatal hour we may repent. " Then of our purpose this appears the scope. To weigh the danger with a doubtful hope. Though sorely buflfeted by every sea. Our hull unbroken long may try a-lee ; The crew, though harass'd long with toils severe. Still at their pumps perceive no hazards near. Shall we, incautious then, the dangers tell. At once their courage and their hopes to quell ! Prudence forbids ! — This southern tempest soon May change its quarter with the changing moon : Its rage though terrible may soon subside. Nor into mountains lash th' unruly tide. These leaks shall then decrease : the sails once more Direct our course to some relieving shore." Thus while he spoke around from man to man. At either pump, a hollow murmur ran. For while the vessel through unnumber'd chinks, Above, below, th' invading water drinks. Sounding her depth, they eyed the wetted scale. And, lo! the leak o'er all their powers prevail. Yet in their post, by terrors unsubdued, They with redoubled force their task pursued. And now the senior pilots seem'd to wait Arion's voice to close the dark debate. Though many a bitter storm, with peril fraught, In Neptune's school the wandering stripling taught. Not twice nine summers yet matured his thought. So oft he bled by Fortune's cruel dart. It fell at last innoxious on his heart. His mind still shunning care with secret hate, In patient indolence resign'd to Fate. But now the horrors that around him roll, Thus rous'd to action his rekindling soul. " With fix'd attention, pondering in my mind The dark distresses on each side combined ; While here we linger in the pass of Fate, I see no moment left for sad debate. For, some decision if we wish to form, Ere yet our vessel sink beneath the storm. Her shattered state, and yon desponding crew. At once suggest what measures to pursue. The labouring hull already seems half-fill'd With waters, through a hundred leaks distill'd, As in a dropsy, wallowing with her freight. Half drown'd she lies, a dead inactive weight ! Thus drenched by every wave, her riven deck, Stript and defenceless, floats a naked wreck ; Her wounded flanks no longer can sustain These fell invasions of the bursting main : At every pitch th' o'erwhelming billows bend, Beneath their load, the quivering bowsprit end. A fearful warning ! since the masts on high On that support with trembling hope rely. At either pump our seamen pant for breath, In dark dismay anticipating death. Still all our powers th' increasing leaks defy: We sink at sea, no shore, no haven nigh. One dawn of hope yet breaks athwart the gloom ; To light and save us from the watery tomb ; That bids us shun the death impending here ; Fly from the following blast, and shoreward steer. " 'Tis urged indeed, the fury of the gale Precludes the help of every guiding sail ; And, driven before it on the watery waste, To rocky shores and scenes of death we haste. But haply Falconera we may shun : And far to Grecian coasts is yet the run : Less harass'd then, our scudding ship may bear Th' assaulting surge repell'd upon her rear. E'en then the wearied storm as soon shall die, Or less torment the groaning pines on high. Should we at last be driven by dire decree Too near the fatal margin of the sea. The hull dismasted there awhile may ride. With lengthen'd cables on the raging tide. Perhaps kind Heaven, with interposing power. May curb the tempest ere that dreadful hour. But here ingulf 'd and foundering while we stay. Fate hovers o'er, and marks us for her prey." He said ; Palemon saw, with grief of heart: The storm prevailing o'er the pilot's art ; In silent terror and distress involved. He heard their last alternative resolved. High beat his bosom: with such fear subdued. Beneath the gloom of some enchanted wood. Oft in old time the wandering swain explored The midnight wizards breathing rites abhorr'd : Trembling approach'd their incantations fell. And, chill'd with horror, heard the songs of hell. Arion saw, with secret anguish moved. The deep affliction of the friend he loved ; And, all awake to Friendship's genial heat. His bosom felt consenting tumults beat. Alas ! no season this for tender love ; Far hence the music of the myrtle grove. — With Comfort's soothing voice, from Hope derived, Palemon's drooping spirit he revived. For Consolation oft, with healing art, Retunes the jarring numbers of the heart. Now had the pilots all th' events revolved, And on their final refuge thus resolved j Canto II. THE SHIPWRECK. 35 When, like the faithful shepherd, who beholds Some prowling wolf approach his fleecy folds ; To the brave crew, whom racking doubts perplex, The dreadful purpose Albert thus directs. " Unnappy partners in a wayward fate ! Whose gallant spirits now are known too late ; Ye ! who unmoved behold this angry storm With terrors all the rolling deep delbrm ; Who, patient in adversity, still bear The firmest front when greatest ills are near! The truth, though grievous, I must now reveal, That long, in vain, I purposed to conceal. Ingulf 'd, all help of arts we vainly tiy, To weather leeward shores, alas! too nigh. Our crazy bark no longer can abide The seas that thunder o'er her batter'd side; And, while the leaks a fatal warning give. That in this raging sea she cannot live. One only refuge from despair we find ; At once to wear and scud before the wind.* Perhaps e'en then to ruin we may steer ; For broken shores beneath our lee appear ; But that's remote, and instant death is here; Yet there, by Heaven's assistance, we may gain Some creek or inlet of the Grecian main ; Or sheltered by some rock, at anchor ride. Till with abating rage the blast subside. " But, if determined by the will of Heaven, Our helpless bark at last ashore is driven. These counsels follow'd, from the watery grave Our floating sailors on the surf may save. " And first, let all our axes be secured. To cut the masts and rigging from aboard. Then to the quarters bind each plank and oar, To float between the vessel and the shore. The longest cordage, too, must be convey'd On deck, and to the weather rails belay'd; So they, who haply reach alive the land, Th' extended lines may fasten on the strand, Whene'er, loud thundering on the leeward shore. While yet aloof we hear the breakers roar. Thus for the terrible event prepared. Brace fore and aft to starboard every yard ; So shall our masts swim lighter on the wave. And from the broken rocks our seamen save. Then westward turn the stem, that every mast May shoreward fall, when from the vessel cast. — When o'er her side once more the billows bound, Ascend the rigging till she strikes the ground : And when you hear aloft th' alarming shock That strikes her bottom on some pointed rock, The boldest of our sailors must descend, The dangerous business of the deck to tend ; Then each, secured by some convenient cord. Should cut the shrouds and rigging from the board ; Let the broad axes next assail each mast; And booms, and oars, and rafts, to leeward cast. Thus, while the cordage stretch'd ashore may guide Our brave companions through the swelling tide. This floating lumber shall sustain them, o'er The rocky shelves, in safety to the shore. But as your firmest succour, till the last, O cling securely on each faithful mast! Though great the danger, and the task severe, Yet bow not to the tyranny of fear! • For an explanation of these manoeuvres, the reader is referred to the last note of this Canto. 4 If once that slavish yoke your spirits quell, Adieu to hope ! to life itself farewell ! " I know, among you some full oft have view'd, With murdering weapons arm'd, a lawless brood. On England's vile inhuman shore who stand, The foul reproach and scandal of our land ! To rob the wanderers wreck'd upon the strand. These, while their savage office they pursue. Oft wound to death the helpless plunder'd crew. Who 'scaped from every horror of the main. Implored their mercy, but implored in vain. But dread not this !— a crime to Greece unknown Such blood-hounds all her circling shores disown: Her sons, by barbarous tyranny opprest, Can share affliction with the wretch distrest : Their hearts, by cruel fate inured to grief. Oft to the friendless stranger yield relief" With conscious horror struck, the naval band Detested for a while their native land ; They cursed the sleeping vengeance of the laws, That thus forgot her guardian sailors' cause. Meanwhile the master's voice again they heard, Whom, as with filial duty, all revered. " No more remains — but now a trusty band Must ever at the pump industrious stand : And while with us the rest attend to wear, Two skilful seamen to the helm repair ! — O Source of Life ! our refuge and our stay ! Whose voice the warring elements obey. On thy supreme assistance we rely ; Thy mercy supplicate, if doom'd to die ! Perhaps this storm is sent, with healing breath. From neighbouring shores to scourge disease and death I 'Tis ours on thine unerring laws to trust : With thee, great Lord ! ' Whatever is, is just.' " He said ; and with consenting reverence fraught, The sailors join'd his prayer in silent thought. His intellectual eyes, serenely bright ! Saw distant objects with prophetic light Thus in a land, that lasting wars oppress. That groans beneath misfortune and distress; Whose wealth to conquering armies falls a prey, Her bulwarks sinking, as lier troops decay ; Some bold sagacious statesman, from the helm, Sees desolation gathering o'er his realm : He darts around his penetrating eyes. Where dangers grow, and hostile unions rise ; With deep attention marks th' invading foe, Eludes their wiles, and frustrates every blow : Tries his last art the tottering state to save. Or in its ruins finds a glorious grave. Still in the yawning trough the vessel reels, Ingulf'd beneath two fluctuating hills : On either side they rise ; tremendous scene ! A long dark melancholy vale between.* * That the reader, who is unacquainted with the ma- nffiuvres of navigation, may conceive a clearer idea of a ship's state when trying, and of the change of her situ- ation to that of scudding, I have quoted a part of the ex- planation of those articles as they appear in the "Dic- tionary of the Marine." Trying is the situation in which a ship lies nearly in the trough or hollow of the sea in a tempest, particularly when it blows contrary to her course. In trying as well as in scudding, the sails are always reduced in proportion to the increase of the storm ; and in either state, if the storm is excessive, she may have C 26 FALCONER. The balanced ship, now forward, now behind, Still felt th' impression of the waves and wind, And to the right and left by turns inclined ; But Albert from behind the balance drew, And on the prow its double efforts threw. — The order now was given to bear away; The order given the timoneers obey. High o'er the bowsprit stretch'd the tortured sail, As on the rack, distends beneath the gale. But scarce the yielding prow its impulse knew. When in a thousand flitting shreds it flew I — Yet Albert new resources still prepares, And, bridling grief, redoubles all his cares. " Away there ! lower the mizen yard on deck !" He calls, " and brace the foremost yards aback !" His great example every bosom fires, New life rekindles, and new hope inspires. While to the helm unfaithful still she lies. One desperate remedy at last he tries, — " Haste, with your weapons cut the shrouds and stay; And hew at once the mizen-mast away !" He said ; th' attentive sailors on each side At his command the trembling cords divide. Fast by the fated pine bold Rodmond stands; Th' impatient axe hung gleaming in his hands ; all her sails furled : or be, according to the sea-phrase, under bare poles. The intent of spreading a sail at this time, is to keep the ship more steady, and to prevent her from rolling violently by pressing her side down in the water ; and also to turn her head towards the source of the wind, so that the shock of the seas may fall more obliquely on her flank, than when she lies along the trough of the sea, or in the interval between two waves. While she lies in this situation, the helm is fastened close to the lee side, to prevent her, as much as possible, from falling to leeward. But as the ship is not then kept in equilibrio by the ope- ration of her sails, vfhich at other times counterbalance each other at the head and stern, she is moved by a Blow but continual vibration, which turns her head alternately to windward and to leeward, forming an angle of 30 or 40 degrees in the interval. That part where she stops in approaching the direction of the wind is called her coming-to : and the contrary excess of the angle to leeward is called her falling-off. Veering, or wearing, (see line 55, 2d col. p. 23, and line 20, 1st col. p. 25 ;) as used in the present sense, may be defined, the movement by which a ship changes her state from trying to that of scudding, or of running be- fore the direction of the wind and sea. It is an axiom in natural philosophy, that "every body will persevere in a state of rest, or of moving uniformly in a right hne, unless it be compelled to change its state by forces impressed : and that the change of motion is proportional to the moving force impressed, and made according to the right line in which that force acts." Hence it is easy to conceive how a ship is compelled to turn into any direction by the force of the wind, act- ing upon any part of her length in hues parallel to the plane of the horizon. Thus, in the act of veering, which is a necessary consequence of this invariable principle, the object of the seamen is to reduce the action of the wind on the ship's hinder part, and to re- ceive its utmost exertion on her fore part, so that the lat- ter may be pushed to leeward. This effect is either pro- duced by the operation of the sails, or by the impression of the wind on the masts and yards. In the former case, the sails on the hind part of the ship are either furled or arranged nearly parallel to the direction of the wind, which then glides ineffectually along their surfaces ; at the same time the foremast sails are spread abroad, so Canto III. Brandish'd on high, it fell with dreadful sound ; The tall mast, groaning, felt the deadly wound. Deep gash'd with sores, the tottering structure rings ! And crashing, thundering o'er the quarter swings. Thus when some limb, convulsed with pangs of death, Imbibes the gangrene's pestilential breath ! Th' experienced artist from the blood betrays The latent venom, or its course delays : But if th' infection triumphs o'er his art, Tainting the vital stream that warms the heart, Resolved at last, he quits th' unequal strife. Severs the member, and preserves the life. Canto III. ARGUMENT. The design and influence of poetry. Applied to the subject. Wreck of the mizen-mast cleared away. Ship veers before the wind. Her violent agitation. Different stations of the otHcers. Appearance of the island of Falconera. Excursion to tlie adjacent na- tions of Greece renowned in antiquity. Athens. So- crates. Plato. Aristides. Solon. Corinth. Sparta. Leonidas. Invasion of Xerxes. Lycurgus. Epami- nondas. Modern appearance. Arcadia; its former as to receive the greatest exertion of the wind. See lino 9 of preceding column. The fore part accordingly yields to this impulse, and is put in motion; and this motion necessarily conspiring with that of the wind, pushes the ship about as much as is requisite to produce the de- sired effect. But when the tempest is so violent as to preclude the use of sails, the effort of the wind operates almost equally on the opposite end of the ship, because the masts and yards situated near the head and stern serve to counterbalance each other in receiving its impression. The effect of the helm is also considerably diminished, because the head.way, which gives life and vigour to all its operations, is at this time feeble and ineffectual. Hence it becomes necessary to destroy this equilibrium which subsists between the masts and yards before and behind, and to throw the balance forward to prepare for veering. If this cannot be effected by the arrangement of the yards on the masts, and it becomes absolutely necessary to veer, in order to save the ship from de- struction, (see line 20 of preceding column,) the mizen- mast must be cut away, and even the main-mast, if she still remains incapable of answering the helm by turning her prow to leeward. Scudding is that movement in navigation by which a ship is carried precipitately before a tempest. See line 20, 1st col. p. 25. As a ship flies with amazing rapidity through the wa- ter whenever this expedient is put in practice, it is never attempted in a contrary wind, unless when her condition renders her incapable of sustaining the mutual effort of the wind and waves any longer on her side, without being exposed to the most imminent danger. A ship either scuds with a sail extended on her fore- mast, or, if the storm is excessive, without any sail, which in the sea-phrase is called scudding under bare poles. The principal hazards incident to scudding are gene- rally a sea striking a ship's stern; the difficulty of steering, which perpetually exposes her to the danger of broach- mg-to; and the want of sufficient sea-room. A sea which strikes the stern violently may shatter it to pieces, by which the ship must inevitably founder. By broaching- to suddenly, she is threatened with losing all her mast's and sails, or being immediately overturned; and for want of sea-room she is exposed to the dangers of bein" wrecked on a lee-shore. " Canto III. THE SHIPWRECK. 27 happiness and fertility. Present distress, tlie effect of slavery. Ithaca. Ulysses and Penelope. Argos and MycencB. Agamemnon. Macronisi. Lemnos. Vul- can and Venus. Delos. Apollo and Diana. Troy. Sestos. Leander and Hero. Delphos. Temple of ' Apollo. Parnassus. The Muses. The subject re- sumed. Sparkling of the sea. Prodigious tempest, accompanied with rain, hail, and meteors. Darkness, lightning, and thunder. Approach of day. Discovery of land. The ship, in great danger, passes the Island of St. George. Turns her broadside to the shore. Her ■ bowsprit, foremast, and main topmast carried away. She strikes a rock. Splits asunder. Fate of the crew. 2%£ scene stretches froni that part of the Archipelago vjhich lies ten miles to the northward of Falconera^ to Cape Col&nna in Attica. — The tinte is about seven hourSj being from one till eight in the morning. When in a barbarous age with blood defiled. The human savage roam'd the gloomy wild ; When sullen Ignorance her flag display 'd, And Rapine and Revenge her voice obey'd ; Sent from the shores of light, the Muses came, The dark and solitary race to tame ; 'Twas theirs the lawless passions to control, And melt in tender sympathy the soul : The heart from vice and error to reclaim, And breathe in human breasts celestial flame. The kindling spirit caught th' empyreal ray, And glow'd congenial with the swelling lay. Roused from the chaos of primeval night, At once fair Truth and Reason sprung to light. When great Maeonides, in rapid song, The thundering tide of battle rolls along. Each ravish'd bosom feels the high alarms, And all the burning pulses beat to arms. From earth upborne, on Pegasean wings. Far through the boundless realms of thought he springs ; While distant poets, trembling as they view His sunward flight, the dazzling track pursue. But when his strings, with mournful magic, tell What dire distress Laertes' son befell, The strains, meandering through the maze of wo, Bid sacred sympathy the heart o'erflow. Thus, in old time, the Muses' heavenly breath With vital force dissolved the chains of death ; Each bard in Epic lays began to sing. Taught by the master of the vocal string.-^ 'Tis mine, alas! through dangerous scenes to stray. Far from the light of his unerring ray ! While, all unused the wayward path to tread, Darkling I wander with prophetic dread. To me in vain the bold Moeonian lyre Awakes the numbers, fraught with living fire ! Full oft, indeed, that mournful harp of yore Wept the sad wanderer lost upon the shore ; But o'er that scene th' impatient numbers ran, Subservient only to a nobler plan. 'Tis mine, th' unravell'd prospect to display. And chain th' events in regular array. Though hard the task, to sing in varied strains, While all unchanged the tragic theme remains ! Thrice happy ! might the secret powers of art Unlock the latent windings of the heart, Might the sad numbers draw Compassion's tear For kindred miseries, oft beheld too near ; For kindred wretches, oft in ruin cast On Albion's strand beneath the wintry blast ; For all the pangs, the complicated wo, Her bravest sons, her faithful sailors know ! So pity, gashing o'er each British breast. Might sympathize with Briton's sons distrest : For this, my theme through mazes I pursue. Which nor Maeonides nor Maro knew ! A while the mast in ruins dragg'd behind. Balanced th' impression of the helm and wind : The wounded serpent, agonized with pain. Thus trails his mangled volume on the plain. But now the wreck dissever'd from the rear, The long reluctant prow began to veer ; And while around before the wind it falls, " Square all the yards !"* th' attentive master calls ; " You timoneers, her motion still attend ! For on your steerage all our lives depend. So, steady ! t meet her, watch the blast behind. And steer her right before the seas and wind !" " Starboard, again!" the watchful pilot cries ; " Starboard !" the obedient timoneer replies. Then to the left the ruling helm returns ; The wheell revolves ; the ringing axle bums ! The ship, no longer foundering by the lee. Bears on her side th' invasions of the sea ; All lonely, o'er the desert waste she flies. Scourged on by surges, storm, and bursting skies. As when the masters of the lance assail, In Hyperborean seas, the slumbering whale ; Soon as the javelins pierce his scaly hide. With anguish stung, he cleaves the downward tide; In vain he flies ! no friendly respite found ; His life-blood gushes through th' inflaming wound. The wounded bark, thus smarting with her pain, Scuds from pursuing waves along the main ; While, dash'd apart by her dividing prow. Like burning adamant the waters glow. Her joints forget their firm elastic tone ; Her long keel trembles, and her timbers groan ; Upheaved behind her in tremendous height The billows frown, with fearful radiance bright I Now shivering o'er the topmost wave she rides, While deep beneath th' enormous gulf divides. Now launching headlong down the horrid vale, She hears no more the roaring of the gale ; Till up the dreadful height again she flies, Trembling beneath the current of the skies. As that rebellious angel who, from heaven. To regions of eternal pain was driven; When dreadless he forsook the Stygian shore. The distant realms of Eden to explore ; Here, on sulphureous clouds sublime upheaved, With daring wing th' infernal air he cleaved ; There, in some hideous gulf descending prone. Far in the rayless void of night was thrown. E'en so she scales the briny mountain's height, Then down the black abyss precipitates her flight. The masts around whose tops the whirlwinds sing, With long vibrations round her axle swing. To guide the wayward course amid the gloom. The watchful pilots different posts assume. * To square the yards, in this place, is meant to ar- range them directly athwart the ship's length. t Steady is the order to steer the ship according to the line on which she advances at this instant, without devi- ating to the right or left thereof. t In all large ships, the helm is managed by a wheel. 28 FALCONER. Canto III. Albert and Rodmond, station'd on the rear, With warning voice direct each timoneer ; High on the prow the guard Arion keeps, To shun the cruisers wandering o'er the deeps ; Where'er he moves Palemon still attends, As if on him his only hope depends ; While Rodmond,fearful of some neighbouring shore, Cries, ever and anon, " Look out afore !" Four hours thus scudding on the tide she flew, When Falconera's rocky height they view : High o'er its summit, through the gloom of night, The glimmering watch-tower casta mournful light. In dire amazement riveted they stand. And hear the breakers lash the rugged strand : But soon beyond this shore the vessel flies, Swift as the rapid eagle cleaves the skies. So from the fangs of her insatiate foe. O'er the broad champaign scuds the trembling roe. That danger past, reflects a feeble joy ; But soon returning fears their hopes destroy. Thus, in th' Atlantic, oft the sailor eyes. While melting in the reign of softer skies. Some alp of ice from polar regions blown, Hail the glad influence of a warmer zone : Its frozen cliffs attemper'd gales supply ; In cooling streams th' aerial billows fly ; A while deliver'd from the scorching heat. In gentle tides the feverish pulses beat. So, when their trembling vessel pass'd this isle. Such visionary joys the crew beguile ; Th' illusive meteors of a lifeless fire ; Too soon they kindle, and too soon expire ! Say, Memory ! thou, from whose unerring tongue Instructive flows the animated song ! What regions now the flying ship surround ? Regions of old through all the world renown'd ; That once the Poet's theme, the Muses' boast. Now lie in ruins ; in oblivion lost ! Did they, whose sad distress these lays deplore, Unskill'd in Grecian or in Roman lore, Unconcious pass each famous circling shore ? They did ; for blasted in the barren shade. Here, all too soon, the buds of science fade : Sad Ocean's genius, in untimely hour. Withers the bloom of every springing flower : Here Fancy droops, while sullen cloud and storm The generous climate of the soul deform. Then if among the wandering naval train. One stripling exiled from th' Aonian plain, Had e'er, entranced in Fancy's soothing dream, Approach'd to taste the sweet Castalian stream, (Since those salubrious streams with power di- vine. To purer sense th' attemper'd soul refine,) His heart with liberal commerce here unblest. Alien to joy ! sincerer grief possest. Yet on the youthful mind, th' impression cast. Of ancient glory, shall for ever last. There, all unquench'd by cruel Fortune's ire. It glows with inextinguishable fire. Immortal Athens first, in ruin spread. Contiguous lies at Port Liono's head. Great source of science ! whose immortal name Stands foremost in the glorious roll of Fame ; Here godlike Socrates and Plato shone. And, firm to truth, eternal honour won. The first in Virtue's cause his life resign'd, By Heaven pronounced the wisest of mankind ; The last foretold the spark of vital fire, The soul's fine essence, never could expire. Here Solon dwelt, the philosophic sage. That fled Pisistratus' vindictive rage. Just Aristides here maintain'd the cause, Whose sacred precepts shine through Solon's laws. Of all her towering structures, now alone, Some scatter'd columns stand, with weeds o'er- grown. The wandering stranger near the port descries A milk-white lion of stupendous size ; Unknown the sculpture ; marble is the frame ; And hence the adjacent haven drew its name. Next, in the gulf of Engia, Corinth lies. Whose gorgeous fabrics seem'd to strike the skies, Whom, though by tyrant victors oft subsued, Greece, Egypt, Rome, with awful wonder view'd. Her name, for Pallas' heavenly art renown'd,* Spread, like the foliage which her pillars crown'd; But now, in fatal desolation laid. Oblivion o'er it draws a dismal shade. Then further westward, on Morea's land. Fair Misitral thy modern turrets stand. Ah ! who, unmoved with secret wo, can tell That here great Lacedeemon's glory fell ? Here once she flourish'd at whose trumpet's sound War burst his chains, and nations shook around. Here brave Leonidas, from shore to shore. Through all Achaia bade her thunders roar : He, when imperial Xerxes, from afar. Advanced with Persia's sumless troops to war. Till Macedonia shrunk beneath his spear, And Greece dismay 'd beheld the chief draw near: He, at Thermopylae's immortal plain. His force repell'd with Sparta's glorious train. Tall (Ela saw the tyrant's conquer'd bands. In gasping millions, bleed on hostile lands. Thus vanquish'd Asia trembling heard thy name. And Thebes and Athens sicken'd at thy fame ! Thy state, supported by Lycurgus' laws. Drew, like thine arms, superlative applause : E'en great Epaminondas strove in vain To curb that spirit with a Theban chain. But ah ! how low her free-born spirit now! Her abject sons to haughty tyrants bow ; A false, degenerate, superstitious race Infest thy region, and thy name disgrace ! Not distant far, Arcadia's blest domains Peloponnesus' circling shore contains. "Thrice happy soil ! where still serenely gay. Indulgent Flora breathed perpetual May ! Where buxom Ceres taught th' obsequious field. Rich without art, spontaneous gifts to yield ; Then with some rural nymph supremely blest. While transport glow'd in each enamour'd breast, Each faithful shepherd told his tender pain. And sung of sylvan sports in artless strain. Now, sad reverse ! Oppression's iron hand Enslaves her natives, and despoils the land. In lawless rapine bred, a sanguine train With midnight ravage scour th' uncultured plain. Westward of these, beyond the isthmus lies The long-lost isle of Ithacus the wise ; Where fair Penelope her absent lord Full twice ten years with faithful love deplored. * Architecture. Canto 111. THE SHIPWRECK. 29 Though many a princely heart her beauty won, She, guarded only by a stripling son, Each bold attempt of suitor-kings repell'd, And undefiled the nuptial contract held. With various arts to win her love they toil'd. But all their wiles by virtuous fraud she foil'd. True to her vows, and resolutely chaste. The beauteous princess triumph'd at the last. Argos, in Greece forgotten and unknown, Still seems her cruel fortune to bemoan ; Argos, whose monarch led the Grecian hosts Far o'er the ^gean main to Dardan coasts. Unhappy prince I who on a hostile shore. Toil, peril, anguish, ten long winters bore. And when to native realms restored at last. To reap the harvest of thy labours past, A perjured friend, alas! and faithless wife. There sacrificed to impious lust thy life ; — Fast by Arcadia, stretch these desert plains ; And o'er the land a gloomy tyrant reigns. Next the fair isle of Helena* is seen. Where adverse winds detain'd the Spartan queen ; For whom, in arms combined, the Grecian host, With vengeance fired, invaded Phrygia's coast ; For whom so long they labour'd to destroy The sacred turrets of imperial Troy. Here, driven by Juno's rage, the hapless dame. Forlorn of heart, from ruin'd Ilion came. The port an image bears of Parian stone, Of ancient fabric, but of d-ate unknown. Due east from this appears th' immortal shore That sacred Phoebus and Diana bore. Delos, through all th' .^gean seas renown'd : (Whose coast the rocky Cyclades surround) By Phoebus honour'd and by Greece revered ! Her hallow'd groves e'en distant Persia fear'd : But now, a silent unfrequented land ! No human footstep marks the trackless sand. Thence to the north, by Asia's western bound Fair Lemnos stands, with rising marble crown'd ; Where, in her rage, avenging Juno hurl'd Ill-fated Vulcan from th' ethereal world. There his eternal anvils first he rear'd ; Then, forged by Cyclopean art, appear'd Thunders, that shook the skies with dire alarms, And, form'd by skill divine, Vulcanian arms. There, with this crippled wretch, the foul disgrace And living scandal of th' empyreal race, The beauteous queen of Love in wedlock dwelt. In fires profane, can heavenly bosoms melt? Eastward of this appears the Dardan shore, That once th' imperial towers of Ilium bore. Illustrious Troy! renown'd in every clime, Through the long annals of unfolding time ! How oft, thy royal bulwarks to defend. Thou saw'st thy tutelar gods in vain descend ! Though chiefs unnumber'd in her cause were slain. Though nations perish'd on her bloody plain ; That refuge of perfidious Helen's shame Was doom'd at length to sink in Grecian flame. And now, by Time's deep ploughshare harrow'd o'er. The seat of sacred Troy is found no more : No trace of all her glories now remains I But corn and vines enrich her cultured plains. • Now known by the name of Micronisi. Silver Scamander laves the verdant shore ; Scamander oft o'erflow'd with hostile gore ! Not far removed from Ilion's famous land. In counter view, appears the Thracian strand ; Where beauteous Hero, from the turret's height, Display'd her cresset each revolving night ; Whose gleam directed loved Leander o'er The rolling Hellespont to Asia's shore. Till, in a fated hour, on Thracia's coast. She saw her lover's lifeless body tost ; Then felt her bosom agony severe ; Her eyes, sad gazing, pour'd th' incessant tear ! O'erwhelm'd with anguish, frantic with despair, She beat her beauteous breast and tore her hair — On dear Leander's name in vain she cried ; Then headlong plunged into the parting tide : The parting tide received the lovely weight. And proudly flow'd, exulting in its freight ! Far west of Thrace, beyond th' JEgean main, Remote from ocean, lies the Delphic plain. The sacred oracle of Phcebus there High o'er the mount arose, divinely fair ! Achaian marble form'd the gorgeous pile ; August the fabric ! elegant its style ! On brazen hinges turn'd the silver doors ; And checker'd marble paved the polish'd floors. The roofs, where storied tablature appear'd. On columns of Corinthian mould were rear'd : Of shining porphyry the shafts were framed, And round the hollow dome bright jewels flamed. Apollo's suppliant priests, a blameless train ! Framed their oblation on the holy fane : To front the sun's declining ray 'twas placed ; With golden harps and living laurels graced. The sciences and arts around the shrine Conspicuous shone, engraved by hands divine! Here ^sculapius' snake display'd his crest. And burning glories sparkled on his breast ; While, from his eye's insuflTerable light. Disease and Death recoil'd, in headlong flight. Of this great temple, through all time renown'd. Sunk in oblivion, no remains are found. Contiguous here, with hallow'd woods o'er- spread, Parnassus lifts to heaven its honour'd head ; Where from the deluge saved, by Heaven's com- mand, Deucalion leading Pyrrha, hand in hand, Repeopled all the desolated land. Around the scene unfading laurels grow. And aromatic flowers forever blow. The winged choirs, on every tree above, Carol sweet numbers through the vocal grove ; While o'er th' eternal spring that smiles beneath, Young zephyrs borne on rosy pinions breathe. Fair daughters of the Sun ! the sacred Nine, Here wake to ecstasy their songs divine ; Or crown'd with myrtle in some sweet alcove. Attune the tender strings to bleeding love ; All sadly sweet the balmy currents roll. Soothing to softest peace the tortured soul. While hill and vale with choral voice around The music of immortal harps resound. Fair Pleasure leads in dance the happy hours. Still scattering where she moves Elysian flowers ! Even now, the strains, with sweet contagion fraught, Shed a delicious languor o'er the thought — c 2 30 FALCONER. Canto III. Adieu, ye vales, that smiling peace bestow. Where Eden's blossoms ever vernal blow ! Adieu, ye streams, that o'er enchanted ground In lucid maze the Aonian hills surround ! Ye fairy scenes, where Fancy loves to dwell. And young Delight, for ever, O farewell ! The soul with tender luxury you fill, And o'er the sense Lethean dews distil ! Awake, Memory, from th' inglorious dream ! With brazen lungs resume the kindling theme ! Collect thy powers ! arouse thy vital fire ! Ye spirits of the storm, my verse inspire ! Hoarse as the whirlwinds that enrage the main. In torrents pour along the swelling strain ! Now, borne impetuous o'er the boiling deeps. Her course to Attic shores the vessel keeps : The pilots, as the waves behind her swell, Still with the wheeling stern their force repel. For, this assault should either quarter* feel. Again to flank the tempest she might reel. The steersmen every bidden turn apply ; To right and left the spokes alternate fly. Thus when some conquer'd host retreats in fear. The bravest leaders guard the broken rear : Indignant they retire, and long oppose Superior armies that around them close ; Still shield the flanks, the routed squadrons join. And guide the flight in one imbodied line. So they direct the flying bark before Th' impelling floods, that lash her to the shore. As some benighted traveller, through the shade. Explores the devious path with heart dismay'd ; While prowling savages behind him roar, And yawning pits and quagmires lurk before — High o'er the poop the audacious seas aspire, Uproll'd in hills of fluctuating fire. As some fell conqueror, frantic with success, Sheds o'er the nations ruin and distress ; So, while the watery wilderness he roams. Incensed to sevenfold rage the tempest foams ; And o'er the trembling pines, above, below. Shrill through the cordage howls, with notes of wo. Now thunders wafted from the burning zone. Growl from afar, a deaf and hollow groan ! The ship's high battlements, to either side For ever rocking, drink the briny tide ; Her joints unhinged, in palsied languors play. As ice dissolves beneath the noontide ray. The skies asunder torn, a deluge pour ; The impetuous hail descends in whirling shower. High on the masts, with pale and livid rays. Amid the gloom portentous meteors blaze. Th' ethereal dome, in mournful pomp array'd. Now lurks behind impenetrable shade ; Now, flashing round intolerable light, Redoubles all the terrors of the night. Such terrors Sinai's quaking hill o'erspread. When heaven's loud trumpet sounded o'er its head. It seem'd, the wrathful angel of the wind Had all the horrors of the skies combined ; And here, to one ill-fated ship opposed. At once the dreadful magazine disclosed. And lo ! tremendous o'er the deep he springs, Th' inflaming sulphur flashing from his wings !— Hark ! his strong voice the dismal silence brealis : Mad chaos from the chains of death awakes '. Loud and more loud the rolling peals enlarge ; And blue on deck their blazing sides discharge ; There, all aghast, the shivering wretches stood ; While chill suspense and fear congeal'd their blood. Now in a deluge burst the living flame, And dread concussion rends th' ethereal frame. Sick Earth, convulsive, groans from shore to shore, And Nature, shuddering, feels the horrid roar. Still the sad prospect rises on my sight, Reveal'd in all its mournful shade and light ; Swift through ray pulses glides the kindling fire. As lightning glances on th' electric wire. But, ah ! the force of numbers strives in vain, The glowing scene unequal to sustain. But, lo ! at last, from tenfold darkness bom. Forth issues o'er the wave the weeping morn. Hail, sacred Vision I who, on orient wings, The cheering dawn of light propitious brings! All Nature, smiling, liail'd the vivid ray, That gave her beauties to returning day : All but our ship, that, groaning on the tide, No kind relief, no gleam of hope descried. For now, in front, her trembling inmates see The hills of Greece emerging on the lee. So the lost lover views that fatal morn. On which, for ever from his bosom torn. The nymph adored resigns her blooming charms. To bless wilh love some happier rival's arms. So to Eliza dawn'd that cruel day That tore .^l^neas from her arms away; That saw him parting never to return. Herself in funeral flames decreed to burn. O yet in clouds, thou genial source of light, Conceal thy radiant glories from our sight! Go, with thy smile adorn the happy plain, [reign , And gild the scenes where health and pleasure But let not here, in scorn, thy wanton beam Insult the dreadful graudeur of my theme ! While shoreward now the bounding vessel flies. Full in her van St. George's cliflS arise ; High o'er the rest a pointed crag is seen. That hung projecting o'er a mossy green. Nearer and nearer now the danger grows And all their skill relentless fates oppose ; For, while more eastward they direct the prow. Enormous waves the quivering deck o'erflow. While, as she wheels, unable to subdue Her sallies, still they dread her broaching-to.* Alarming thought ! for now no more a-lee Her riven side could bear th' invading sea ; And if the following surge she scuds before. Headlong she runs upon the dreadful shore : A shore where shelves and hidden rocks abound. Where Death in secret ambush lurks around. Far less dismay'd, Anchises' wandering son Was seen the straits of Sicily to shun : When Palinurus, from the helm descried The rocks of Scylla on his eastern side ; • The quarter is the hinder part of a ship side ; or that part which is near the stern. * Broaching-to is a sudden and involuntary movement in navigation, wherein a ship, whilst sailing or scudding before the wind, unexpectedly turns her side to wind- ward. It is generally occasioned by the difficulty of steering her, or by some disaster happening to the machinery of the helm. See the last note of the second Canto. Canto III. THE SHIPWRECK. 31 While in the west, with hideous yawn disclosed, His onward path Charybdis' gulf opposed. The double danger as by turns he view'd. His wheeling bark her arduous track pursued. Thus while to right and left destruction lies. Between the extremes the daring vessel flies. With boundless involution, bursting o'er The marble cliffs, loud dashing surges roar ; Hoarse through each winding creek the tempest raves. And hollow rocks repeat the groan of waves ; Destruction round th' insatiate coast prepares, "To crush the trembling ship, unnumber'd snares. But haply now she 'scapes the fatal strand. Though scarce ten fathoms distant from the land ; Swift as the weapon issuing from the bow. She cleaves the burning waters with her prow ; And forward leaping, with tumultuous haste, As on the tempest's wing the isle she past. With longing eyes and agony of mind. The sailors view this refuge left behind ; Happy to bribe, with India's richest ore, A safe accession to that barren shore ! When in the dark Peruvian mine confined. Lost to the cheerful commerce of mankind, The groaning captive wastes his life away. For ever exiled from the realms of day ; No equal pangs his bosom agonize, When far above the sacred light he eyes. While, all forlorn, the victim pines in vain, For scenes he never shall possess again. But now Athenian mountains they descry. And o'er the surge Colonna frowns on high : Beside the cape's projecting verge are placed A range of columns, long by time defaced ; First planted by devotion to sustain. In elder times, Tritonia's sacred fane. Foams the wild beach below, with maddening rage. Where waves and rocks a dreadful combat wage. The sickly heaven, fermenting with its freight. Still vomits o'er the main the feverish weight : And now, while wing'd with ruin from on high. Through the rent cloud the ragged lightnings fly, A flash, quick glancing on the nerves of light, Struck the pale helmsman with eternal night : Redmond, who heard the piteous groan behind, Touch'd with compassion gazed upon the blind : And, while around his sad companions crowd. He guides the unhappy victim to the shroud. "Hie thee aloft, my gallant friend !" he cries ; " Thy only succour on the mast relies !" — The helm, bereft of half its vital force. Now scarce subdued the wild unbridled course : Quick to th' abandon'd wheel Arion came, The ship's tempestuous sallies to reclaim. Amazed he saw her, o'er the sounding foam Upborne, to right and left distracted roam. So gazed young Phaeton, with pale dismay. When, mounted in the flaming car of day. With rash and impious hand the stripling tried The immortal coursers of the sun to guide. — The vessel, while the dread event draws nigh. Seems more impatient o'er the waves to fly ; Fate spurs her on : — thus issuing from afar, Advances to the sun some blazing star ; And, as it feels th' attraction's kindling force. Springs onward with accelerated course. With mournful look the seamen eyed the strand, Where Death's inexorable jaws expand : Swift from their minds elapsed all dangers past. As, dumb with terror they beheld the last. Now, on the trembling shrouds, before, behind. In mute suspense they mount into the wind. — The genius of the deep, on rapid wing. The black eventful moment seem'd to bring ; The fatal sisters on the surge before. Yoked their infernal horses to the prore. — The steersmen now received their last command, To wheel the vessel sidelong to the strand. Twelve sailors, on the foremast who depend. High on the platform of the top ascend ; Fatal retreat ! for while the plunging prow Immerges headlong in the wave below, Down-prest by watery weight the bowsprit bends, And from above the stem deep-crushing rends. Beneath her beak the floating ruins lie ; The foremast totters, unsustain'd on high : And now the ship, fore-lifted by the sea, Hurls the tall fabric backward o'er the lee ; While, in the general wreck, the faithful stay Drags the main topmast from its post away. Flung from the mast, the seamen strive in vain Through hostile floods their vessels to regain ; The waves they buffet, till bereft of strength, O'erpower'd they yield to cruel fate at length. The hostile waters close around their head. They sink, for ever, number'd with the dead ! Those who remain, their fearful doom await. Nor longer mourn their lost companions' fate ; The heart, that bleeds with sorrows all its own, Forgets the pangs of friendship to bemoan. — Albert and Rodmond, and Palemon here. With young Arion, on the mast appear; E'en they, amid th' unspeakable distress, In every look distracting thoughts confess; In every vein the refluent blood congeals ; And every bosom fatal terror feels. Enclosed with all the demons of the main. They view'd th' adjacent shore, but view'd m vain. Such torments in the drear abodes of hell, Where sad despair laments with rueful yell. Such torments agonize the damned breast, While Fancy views the mansions of the blest. For Heaven's sweet help, their suppliant cries implore ; But Heaven relentless deigns to help no more ! And now, lash'd on by destiny severe, With horror fraught, the dreadful scene drew near The ship hangs hovering on the verge of death. Hell yawns, rocks rise, and breakers roar beneath In vain, alas I the sacred shades of yore Would arm the mind with philosophic lore ; In vain they'd teach us, at the latest breath. To smile serene amid the pangs of death. E'en Zeno's self, and Epictetus old. This fell abyss had shudder'd to behold. Had Socrates, for godlike virtue famed. And wisest of the sons of men proclaim'd, Beheld this scene of frenzy and distress, His soul had trembled to its last recess ! O yet confirm my heart, ye Powers above. This last tremendous shock of Fate to prove j The tottering frame of Reason yet sustain ! Nor let this total ruin whirl my brain! 32 F A L C O N P: R. Canto 111. In vain the cords and axes were prepared, For now th' audacious seas insult the yard; Pligh o'er the ship they throw a horrid shade, And o'er her burst in terrible cascade. Uplifted on the surge, to heaven she flies, Her shatter'd top half-buried in the skies. Then headlong plunging thunders on the ground. Earth groans ! air trembles ! and the deeps resound: Her giant bulk the dread concussion feels, And quivering with the wound, in torment reels : So reels, convulsed with agonizing throes, The bleeding bull beneath the murderer's blows. Again she plunges : hark ! a second shock Tears her strong bottom on the marble rock : Down on the vale of Death, with dismal cries, The fated victims shuddering roll their eyes, In wild despair ; while yet another stroke. With deep convulsion, rends the solid oak ; Till like the mine, in whose infernal cell The lurking demons of destruction dwell, At lengtli asunder torn, her frame divides: And crashing spreads in ruin o'er the tides. O were it mine with tuneful Maro's art To wake to sympathy the feeling heart, Like him the smooth and mournful verse to dress In all the pomp of exquisite distress ! Then too severely taught by cruel Fate, To share in all the perils 1 relate, Then might I, with unrivall'd strains, deplore Th' impervious horrors of a leeward shore. As o'er t'ne surge, the stooping mainmast hung, Still on the rigging thirty seamen clung ; Some, struggling, on a broken crag were cast, And there by oozy tangles grappled fast : Awile they bore th' o'erwhelming billow's rage, Unequal combat with their fate to wage ; Till all benumb'd and feeble they forego Their slippery hold, and sink to shades below. Some, from the main-yardarm impetuous thrown, On marble ridges die without a groan. Three, with Palemon, on their skill depend. And from the wreck on oars and rafts descend. JVow on the mountain-wave on high they ride. Then downward plunge beneath th' involving tide; Till one, who seems in agony to strive, The whirling breakei's heave on shore alive : The rest a speedier end of anguish knew, And prest the stony beach a lifeless crew. Next, O unhappy chief! th' eternal doom Of Heaven decreed thee to the briny tomb ! What scenes of misery torment thy view ! What painful struggles of thy dying crew ! Thy perish'd hopes all buried in the flood, O'erspread with corses ! red with human blood ! So, pierced with anguish, hoary Priam gazed. When Troy's imperial domes in ruin blazed ; While he, severest sorrow doom'd to feel. Expired beneath the victor's murdering steel. Thus with his helpless partners to the last, Sad refuge ! Albert hugs the floating mast ; His soul could yet sustain this mortal blow, But droops, alas ! beneath superior wo ! For now soft nature's sympathetic chain Tugs at his yearning heart with powerful strain ; His faithful wife for ever doom'd to mourn For him, alas ! who never shall return ; To black Adversity's approach exposed, With want and hardships unforeseen enclosed : His lovely daughter left without a friend. Her innocence to succour and defend ; By youth and indigence set forth a prey To lawless guilt, that flatters to betray.— While these reflections rack his feeling mind, Redmond, who hung beside, his grasp resign'd ; And, as the tumbling waters o'er him roU'd, - His outstretch'd arms the master's legs enfold— Sad Albert feels the dissolution near, And strives in vain his fetter'd limbs to clear; For Death bids every clenching joint adhere. All faint, to heaven he throws his dying eyes. And " O protect my wife and child !" he cries : The gushing stream rolls back th' unfinish'd sound I He gasps ! he dies ! and tumbles to the ground! Five only left of all the perish'd throng. Yet ride the pine which shoreward drives along ; With these Arion still his hold secures, And all th' assaults of hostile waves endures. O'er the dire prospect as for life he strives, He looks if poor Palemon yet survives. " Ah, wherefore, trusting to unequal art, Didst thou incautious ! from the wreck depart ? Alas I these rocks all human skill defy. Who strikes them once beyond relief must die ; And, now, sore wounded, thou perhaps art tost On these, or in some oozy cavern lost!" Thus thought Arion, anxious gazing round, In vain, his eyes no more Palemon found. The demons of destruction hover nigh, And thick their mortal shafts commission d fly : And now a breaking surge, with forceful sway, Two next Arion furious tears away ; Hurl'd on the crags, behold, they gasp ! they bleed ! And groaning, cling upon th' illusive weed ; — Another billow burst in boundless roar ! Arion sinks ! and Memory views no more ! Ah, total night and horror here preside ! My stunn'd ear tingles to the whizzing tide ! It is the funeral knell ; and gliding near, Methinks the phantoms of the dead appear! But lo ! emerging from the watery grave, Again they float incumbent on the wave ! Again the dismal prospect opens round, The wreck, the shores, the dying, and the drovra'd. And see ! enfeebled by repeated shocks, Those two who scramble on th' adjacent rocks, Their faithless hold no longer can retain. They sink o'erwhelm'd, and never rise again ! Two, with Arion, yet the mast upbore. That now above the ridges reach'd the shore : Still trembling to descend, they downward gaze With horror pale, and torpid with amaze : The floods recoil ! the ground appears below ! And life's faint embers now rekindling glow ; A while they wait th' exhausted waves' retreat, Then climb slow up the beach with hands and feet. O Heaven ! deliver'd by whose sovereign hand, Still on the brink of hell they shuddering stand. Receive the languid incense they bestow, That damp with death appears not yet to glow. To Thee each soul the warm oblation pays. With trembling ardour of unequal praise. In every heart dismay with wonder strives And hope the sicken'd spark of life revives ; Canto III. THE SHIPWRECK. 33 Her magic powers their exiled health restore. Till horror and despair are felt no more. A troop of Grecians who inhabit nigh, And oft these perils of the deep descry, Roused by the blustering tempest of the night. Anxious had climb'd Colonna's neighbouring height ; When gazing downward on th' adjacent flood. Full to their view the scene of ruin stood, The surf with mangled bodies strew'd around. And those yet breathing on the sea-wash'd ground ! Though lost to science and the nobler arts, Yet Nature's lore inform'd their feeling hearts ; Straight down the vale with hastening steps they hied, Th' unhappy sufferers to assist and guide. Meanwhile those three escaped beneath explore The first adventurous youth who reach'd the shore ; Panting, with eyes averted from the day. Prone, helpless on the tangled beach he lay — It is Palemon ; — O what tumults roll With hope and terror in Arion's soul ! If yet unhurt he lives again to view His friend, and this sole remnant of our crew ! With us to travel through this foreign zone, And share the future good or ill-unknown ! Arion thus : but ah ! sad doom of Fate ! That bleeding Memory sorrows to relate ■ While yet afloat, on some resisting rock His ribs were dash'd, and fractured with the shock : Heart-piercing sight ! those cheeks, so late array'd In beauty's bloom, are pale, with mortal shade ! Distilling blood his lovely breast o'erspread, And clogg'd the golden tresses of his head : Nor yet the lungs by this pernicious stroke Were wounded, or the vocal organs broke. Down from his neck, with blazing gems array'd. Thy image, lovely Anna, hung portray 'd ; Th' unconscious figure smiling all serene, Suspended in a golden chain was seen. Hadst thou, soft maiden ; in this hour of wo. Beheld him writhing from the deadly blow. What force of art, what language could express Thine agony? thine exquisite distress? But thou, alas ! art doom'd to weep in vain For him thine eyes shall never see again ! With dumb amazement pale, Arion gazed, And cautiously the wounded youth upraised. Palemon then, with cruel pangs oppress'd, In faltering accents thus his friend address'd : "O rescued from destruction late so nigh. Beneath whose fatal influence doom'd I lie ; .\re we then exiled to this last retreat Of life, unhappy ! thus decreed to meet ? Ah .' how unlike what yester-morn enjoy'd Enchanting hopes, for ever now destroy'd ! For, wounded far beyond all healing power, Palemon dies, and this his final hour : By those fell breakers, where in vain I strove, At once cut off from fortune, life, and love ! Far other scenes must soon present my sight, That lie deep buried yet in tenfold night. A.h! wTCtched father of a wretched son. Whom thy paternal prudence has undone ! How will remembrance of this blinded care Bend down thy head with anguish and despair! Such dire effects from avarice arise, That deaf to Nature's voice and vainly wise, 5 With force severe endeavours to control The noblest passions that inspire the soul. But, O thou sacred Power ! whose law connects Th' eternal chain of causes and effects, Let not thy chastening ministers of rage Afllict with sharp remorse his feeble age I And you, Arion ! who with these the last Of all our crew survive the shipwreck past — Ah! cease to mourn! those friendly tears restrain ; Nor give my dying moments keener pain ! Since Heaven may soon thy wandering steps re- store. When parted, hence, to England's distant shore , Shouldst thou th' unwilling messenger of Fate To him the tragic story first relate, ! friendship's generous ardour then suppress, Nor hint the fatal cause of my distress ; Nor let each horrid incident sustain The lengthen'd tale to aggravate his pain. Ah ! then remember well my last request. For her who reigns for ever in my breast ; Yet let him prove a father and a friend, The helpless maid to succour and defend. Say, I this suit implored with parting breath, So Heaven befriend him at his hour of death ! But O, to lovely Anna shouldst thou tell What dire untimely end thy friend befell, Draw o'er the dismal scene soft Pity's veil ; And lightly touch the lamentable tale : Say that my love, inviolably true, No change, no diminution ever knew ; Lo ! her bright image pendant on my neck. Is all Palemon rescued from the wreck : Take it, and say, when panting in the wave, 1 struggled life and this alone to save! " My soul, that fluttering hastens to be free, Would yet a train of thoughts impart to thee ; But strives in vain ; — the chilling ice of Death Congeals my blood, and choaks the stream of breath : Resign'd, she quits her comfortless abode, To course that long, unknown, eternal road. — O sacred source of ever-living light ! Conduct the weary wanderer in her flight ! Direct her onward to that peaceful shore. Where peril, pain, and death are felt no more ! " When thou some tale of hapless love shall hear, That steals from Pity's eye the melting tear, Of two chaste hearts by mutual passion join'd To absence, sorrow, and despair consign'd, O! then to swell the tides of social wo That heal th' afflicted bosom they o'erflow. While Memory dictates, this sad shipwreck tell, And what distress thy wretched friend befell I Then while in streams of soft compassion drown'd The swains lament and maidens weep around ; While lisping children, touch'd with infant fear, With wonder gaze, and drop th' unconscious tear ; O ! then this moral bid their souls retain. All thoughts of happiness on earth are vain."* The last faint accents trembled on his tongue, That now inactive to the palate clung ; * sed scilicet ultima semper Expectanda dies homini ; " dicigue bealus Ante ohitum nemo supremaquefunera debet." Ovid. Met. 34 FALCONER. Canto III. His bosom heaves a mortal groan— he dies ! And shades eternal sink upon his eyes ! As thus defaced in death Palemon lay, Arion gazed upon the lifeless clay : Transfix'd he stood with awful terror fill'd, While down his cheek the silent drops distill'd. " O ill-starr'd votary, of unspotted truth ! Untimely perish'd in the bloom of youth, Should e'er thy friend arrive on Albion's land. He will obey, though painful, thy demand : His tongue the dreadful story shall display, And all the horrors of this dismal day ! Disastrous day ! what ruin has thou bred ! What anguish to the living and the dead ! How hast thou left the widow all forlorn. And ever doom'd the orphan child to mourn ; Through life's sad journey hopeless to complain! Can sacred Justice these events ordain ? But, O my soul ! avoid that wondrous maze Where Reason, lost in endless error, strays ! As through this thorny vale of life we run, Great Cause of all effects. Thy will he done .'" Now had the Grecians on the beach arrived To aid the helpless few who yet survived : While passing they behold the waves o'erspread With shatter'd rafts and corses of the dead. Three still alive, benumb'd and faint they find, In mournful silence on a rock reclined ; The generous natives, moved with social pain, The feeble strangers in their arms sustain ; With pitying sighs their hapless lot deplore, And lead them trembling from the fatal shore. ANNE LETITIA BARBAULD. This gifted authoress, the daughter of Dr. John Aikin, was born at Kilworth Harcourt, in Leices- tershire, on the 20th of June, 1743. Her education was entirely domestic, but the quickness of appre- hension, and desire for learning which she mani- fested, induced her father to lend her his assist- ance towards enabling her to obtain a knowledge of Latin and Greek. On the removal of Dr. Aikin to superintend the dissenting academy at Warring- ton, in Lancashire, she accompanied him thither, in her fifteenth year, when she is said to have possessed great beauty of person and vivacity of intellect. The associates she met with at War- rington were in every way congenial to her mind, and among others, were Drs. Priestley and En- field, with whom she formed an intimate acquaint- ance. In 1773, she was induced to publish a vo- lume of her poems, which, in the course of the same year, went through four editions. They were followed by miscellaneous pieces in prose, by J. (her brother) and A. L. Aikin, which con- siderably added to her reputation. In 1774, she married the Rev. Rochemont Bar- bauld, with whom she removed to Palgrave, near Dis, in Suffolk, where her husband had charge of a dissenting congregation, and was about to open a boarding-school. Mrs. Barbauld assisted him in the task of instruction ; and some of her pupils, who have since risen to literary eminence, among whom were the present Mr. Denman and Sir William Gell, have acknowledged the value of her lessons in English composition, and declama- tion. In 1775, appeared a small volume from her pen, entitled Devotional Pieces, compiled from the Psalms of David, &c. ; a collection which met ■with little success and some animadversion. In 1778, she published her Lessons for Children from Two to Three Years Old ; and, in 1781, Hymns in Prose, for Children ; both of which may be said to have formed an era in the art of instruction, and the former has been translated into French, by M. Pasquier. In 1785, Mrs. Barbauld and her husband gave up their school and visited the continent, whence they returned to England in June, 1786, and in the following year took up their residence at Hamp- stead. Our authoress now began to use her pen on the popular side of politics, and published, suc- cessively. An Address to the Opposers of the Re- peal of the Corporation and Test Acts; A Poetical Epistle to Mr. Wilberforce on the Rejection of the Bill for Abolishing the Slave Trade ; Remarks on Gilbert Wakefield's Inquiry into the Expediency and Propriety of Public or Social Worship ; and Sins of Government, Sins of the Nation, or a Dis- course for the Fast, which last appeared in 1793. In 1802, she removed, with Mr. Barbauld, to Stoke Newington ; and in 1804, published selec- tions from the Spectator, Tatler, Guardian, and Freeholder, with a preliminary essay, which is regarded as her most successful eifort in literary criticism. In the same year, appeared her edition of The Correspondence of Richardson, in six vo- lumes, duodecimo ; but the most valuable part of this work is the very elegant and interesting life of that novelist, and the able review of his works, from the pen of our authoress. In 1808, she be- came a widow ; and in 1810, appeared her edition of The British Novelists, with an introductory essay, and biographical and critical notices prefixed to the works of each author. In the following year she published a collection of prose and verse, under the title of The Female Spectator; and in the same year, appeared that original offspring ot her genius, Eighteen Hundred and Eleven, a poem. This was the last separate publication of Mrs. Barbauld, who died on the 9th of March, 1825, in the eighty-second year of her agn. An edition of her works appeared in the same year, in two octavo volumes, with a memoir, by Lucy Aikin. Mrs. Barbauld is one of the most eminent female writers which England has produced ; and both in prose and poetry she is hardly surpassed by any of her sex, in the present age. With respect to the style, we shall, perhaps, best describe it, by calling it that of a female Johnson ; and her Essay on Romances is a professed imitation of the manner of that great critic. He is himself said to have allowed it to be the best that was ever attempted ; " because it reflected the colour of his thoughts, no less than the turn of his expressions." She is, however, not without a style of her own, which is graceful, easy, and natural : alike calculated to engage the most common, and the most elevated understanding. Her poems are addressed more to the feelings than to the imagination,— more to the reason than the senses; but the language never becomes prosaic, and has sublimity and pathos, totally free from bombast and affectation. The spirit of piety and benevolence that breathes through her works pervaded her life, and she is an amiable example to her sex that it is possible to combine, without danger to its morals or religious principles, a manly understanding with a feminine and susceptible heart. 35 CORSICA. VVRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1769. A manly race Of unsubmitting spirit, wise and brave ; Who still through bleeding ages struggled hard To hold a generous undiminish'd state ; Too much in vain Thomson. Hail, generous Corsica ! unconquer'd isle ! The fort of freedom ; that amidst the waves Stands like a rock of adamant, and dares The wildest fury of the beating storm. And are there yet, in this late sickly age. Unkindly to the towering growths of virtue. Such bold exalted spirits ? Men whose deeds. To the bright annals of old Greece opposed. Would throw in shades her yet unrivall'd name. And dim the lustre of her fairest page ! And glows the flame of Liberty so strong In this lone speck of earth I this spot obscure. Shaggy with woods, and crusted o'er with rock, By slaves surrounded, and by slaves oppressed ! What then should Britons feel ? — should they not catch The warm contagion of heroic ardour, And kindle at a fire so like their own ? Such were the working thoughts which swell'd the breast Of generous Boswell ; when with nobler aim And views beyond the narrow beaten track By trivial fancy trod, he turn'd his course From polish'd Gallia's soft delicious vales, From the gray relics of imperial Rome, From her long galleries of laurell'd stone. Her chisell'd heroes and her marble gods. Whose dumb majestic pomp yet awes the world. To animated forms of patriot zeal ; Warm in the living majesty of virtue ; Elate with fearless spirit ; firm ; resolved ; By fortune nor subdued, nor awed by power. How raptured fancy burns, while warm in thought I trace the pictured landscape ; while I kiss With pilgrim lips devout the sacred soil Stain'd with the blood of heroes. Cyrnus, hail ! Hail to thy rocky, deep indented shores, And pointed clifls, which hear the chafing deep Incessant foaming round thy shaggy sides. Hail to thy winding bays, thy sheltering ports. And ample harbours, which inviting stretch Their hospitable arms to every sail : Thy numerous streams, that bursting from the cliffs Down the steep channell'd rock impetuous pour With grateful murmur : on the fearful edge Of the rude precipice, thy hamlets brown And straw-roof d cots, which from the level vale Scarce seen, amongst the craggy hanging clifls Seem like an eagle's nest aerial built. Thy swelling mountains, brown with solemn shade Of various trees, that wave their giant arms O'er the rough sons of freedom ; lofty pines, And hardy fir, and ilex ever green. And shrub of fragrant leaf, that clothes their sides With living verdure ; whence the clustering bee Extracts her golden dews : the shining box And sweet-leaved myrtle, aromatic thyme, The prickly juniper, and the green leaf Which feeds the spinning worm; while glowing bright Beneath the various foliage, wildly spreads The arbutus, and rears his scarlet fruit Luxuriant, mantling o'er the craggy steeps ; And thy own native laurel crowns the scene. Hail to thy savage forests, awful, deep ; Thy tangled thickets, and thy crowded woods. The haunt of herds untamed ; which sullen bound From rock to rock with fierce unsocial air. And wilder gaze, as conscious of the power That loves to reign amid the lonely scenes Of unquell'd nature : precipices huge. And tumbling torrents ; trackless deserts, plains Fenced in with guardian rocks, whose quarries teem With shining steel, that to the cultured fields And sunny hills which wave with bearded grain, Defends their homely produce. Liberty, The mountain goddess, loves to range at large Amid such scenes, and on the iron soil Prints her majestic step. For these she scorns The green enamell'd vales, the velvet lap Of smooth savannahs, whore the pillow'd head Of luxury reposes ; balmy gales. And bowers that breathe of bliss. For these, when first This isle emerging like a beauteous gem From the dark bosom of the Tyrrhene main, Rear'd its fair front, she mark'd it for her own. And with her spirit warm'd. Her genuine sons, A broken remnant, from the generous stock Of ancient Greece, from Sparta's sad remains. True to their high descent, preserved unquench'd The sacred fire through many a barbarous age r Whom, nor the iron rod of cruel Carthage, Nor the dread sceptre of imperial Rome, Nor bloody Goth, nor grisly Saracen, Nor the long galling yoke of proud Liguria, Could crush into subjection. Still unquell'd They rose superior, bursting from their chains, And claim'd man's dearest birthright, liberty ; And long, through many a hard unequal strife, Maintain'd the glorious conflict ; long withstood. With single arm, the whole collected force Of haughty Genoa, and ambitious Gaul. And shall withstand it — Trust the faithful muse ! It is not in the force of mortal arm. Scarcely in fate, to bind the struggling soul That gall'd by wanton power, indignant swells Against oppression ; breathing great revenge, Careless of life, determined to be free. And favouring Heaven approves : for see the man, Born to exalt his own, and give mankind A glimpse of higher natures : just, as great ; The soul of council, and the nerve of war : Of high unshaken spirit, temper'd sweet With soft urbanity, and polish'd grace. And attic wit, and gay unstudied smiles : Whom Heaven in some propitious hour endow'd With every purer virtue : gave him all And spreading chestnut, with each humbler plant, | That lifts the hero, or adorns the man. THE MOUSE'S PETITION. 37 Gave him the eye sublime ; the searching glance, Keen, scanning deep, that smites the guilty soul As with a beam from heaven : on his brow Serene, and spacious front, set the broad seal Of dignity and rule ; then smiled benign On this fair pattern of a God below, [breast High wrought, and breathed into his swelling The large ambitious wish to save his country. O beauteous title to immortal fame ! The man devoted to the public, stands In the bright records of superior worth, A step below the skies : if he succeed. The first fair lot which earth affords, is his : And if he falls, he falls above a throne. When such their leader, can the brave despair ? Freedom the cause, and Paoli the chief! Success to your fair hopes ? A British muse, Though weak and powerless, lifts her fervent voice. And breathes a prayer for your success. O could She scatter blessings as the morn sheds dews, To drop upon your heads ! But patient hope Must wait th' appointed hour ; secure of this. That never with the indolent and weak Will Freedom deign to dwell ; she must be seized By that bold arm that wrestles for the blessing : 'Tis Heaven's best prize, and must be bought with blood. When the storm thickens, when the combat bums, And pain and death in every horrid shape That can appal the feeble, prowl around. Then Virtue triumphs ; then her towering form Dilates with kindling majesty ; her mien Breathes a diviner spirit, and enlarged Each spreading feature, with an ampler port And bolder tone, exulting, rides the storm, And joys amidst the tempest. Then she reaps Her golden harvest ; fruits of nobler growth And higher relish than meridian suns Can ever ripen ; fair, heroic deeds. And godlike action. 'Tis not meats and drinks, And balmy airs, and vernal suns and showers. That feed and ripen minds ; 'tis toil and danger ; And wrestling with the stubborn gripe of fate ; And war, and sharp distress, and paths obscure And dubious. The bold swimmer joys not so To feel the proud waves under him, and beat With strong repelling arm the billowy surge ; The generous courser does not so exult To toss his floating mane against the wind, And neigh amidst the thunder of the war. As Virtue to oppose her swelling breast Like a firm shield against the darts of fate. And when her sons in that rough school have learn'd To smile at danger, then the hand that raised, Shall hush the storm, and lead the shining train Of peaceful years in bright procession on. Then shall the shepherd's pipe, the muse's lyre, On Cyrnus' shores be heard : her grateful sons With loud acclaim and hymns of cordial praise Shall hail their high deliverers ; every name To virtue dear be from oblivion snatched And placed among the stars : but chiefly thine, Thme, Paoli, with sweetest sound shall dwell On their applauding lips ; thy sacred name, Endear'd to long posterity, some muse, More worthy of the theme, shall consecrate To after-ages, and applauding worlds Shall bless the godlike man who saved his country. *********** So vainly wish'd, so fondly hoped the muse : Too fondly hoped. The iron fates prevail. And Cyrnus is no more. Her generous sons, Less vanquish'd than o'erwhelm'd, by numbers crush'd. Admired, unaided fell. So strives the moon In dubious battle with the gathering clouds. And strikes a splendour through them ; till at length Storms rolled on storms involve the face of heaven And quench her struggling fires. Forgive the zeal That, too presumptuous, whisper'd better things, And read the book of destiny amiss. Not with the purple colouring of success Is virtue best adorn'd : th' attempt is praise. There yet remains a freedom, nobler far Than kings or senates can destroy or give ; Beyond the proud oppressor's cruel grasp Seated secure, uninjured, undestroy'd ; Worthy of gods : — the freedom of the mind. THE MOUSE'S PETITION.* O HEAR a pensive prisoner's prayer, For liberty that sighs : And never let thine heart be shut Against the wretch's cries ! For here forlorn and sad I sit. Within the wiry grate ; And tremble at th' approaching mom, Which brings impending fate. If e'er thy breast with freedom glow'd. And spurn'd a tyrant's chain. Let not thy strong oppressive force A free-born mouse detain ! O do not stain with guiltless blood Thy hospitable hearth ; Nor triumph that thy wiles betray'd A prize so little worth. The scatter'd gleanings of a feast My frugal meals supply ; But if thine unrelenting heart That slender boon deny, — The cheerful light, the vital air, Are blessings widely given; Let Nature's commoners enjoy The common gifts of heaven. The well-taught philosophic mind To all compassion gives ; Casts round the world an equal eye And feels for all that lives. * Found in the trap where he had been confined ail night by Dr. Priestley, for the sake of making experi- ments with dilTerent kinds of air. D 38 BARBAULD. If mind, — as ancient sages taught, — A never-dying flame, Still shifts through matter's varying forms. In every form the same ; Beware, lest in the worm you crusli, A brother's soul you find ; And tremble lest thy luckless hand Dislodge a kindred mind. Or, if this transient gleam of day Be all of life wo share. Let pity plead within thy breast That little all to spare. So may thy hospitable board With health and peace be crown'd ; And every charm of heartfelt ease Beneath thy roof be found, So when destruction lurks unseen, Which men, like mice, may share, May some kind angel clear thy path, And break the hidden snare. CHARACTERS. O BORN to soothe distress and lighten care, Lively as soft, and innocent as fair ! Blest with that sweet simplicity of thought So rarely found, and nevfer to be taught ; Of winning speech, endearing, artless, kind, The loveliest pattern of a female mind ; Like some fair spirit fi'om the realms of rest, With all her native heaven within her breast; So pure, so good, she scarce can guess at sin, But thinks the world without like that within ; Such melting tenderness, so fond to bless, Her charity almost become excess. Wealth may be courted, Wisdom be revered, And Beauty praised, and brutal Strength be fear'd : But Goodness only can affection move. And love must owe its origin to love lUam quicqnid agit, quoquo vestigia flectit, Componit, furtim, subsequiturque decor. TmuL. Of gentle manners, and of taste refined. With all the graces of a polish'd mind ; Clear sense and truth still shone in all she spoke. And from her lips no idle sentence broke. Each nicer elegance of art she knew ; Correctly fair, and regularly true. Her ready fingers plied with equal skill The pencil's task, the needle, or the quill ; So poised her feelings, so composed her soul, So subject all to reason's calm control, — One only passion, strong and imconfined, Disturb'd the balance of her even mind In every word, and look, and thought confest — One passion ruled despotic in her breast, But that was love ; and love delights to bless The generous transports of a fond excess. Happy old man ! who stretch'd beneath the shade Of large grown trees, or in the rustic porch With woodbine canopied, where linger yet The hospitable virtues, calm enjoy'st Nature's best blessings all ;— a healthy age Ruddy and vigorous, native cheerfulness, Plain-hearted friendship, simple piety. The rural manners and the rural joys Friendly to life. O rude of speech, yet rich In genuine worth, not unobserved shall pass Thy bashful virtues ! for the muse shall mark, Detect thy charities^ and call to light Thy secret deeds of mercy ; while the poor, The desolate, and friendless, at thy gate, A numerous family, with better praise Shall hallow in their hearts thy spotless name. Such were the dames of old heroic days. Which faithful story yet delights to praise ; Who, great in useful works, hung o'er the loom,— The mighty mothers of immortal Rome : Obscure, in sober dignity retired. They more deserved than sought to be admired ; The household virtues o'er their honour'd head Their simple grace and modest lustre shed : Chaste their attire, their feet unused to roam. They loved the sacred threshold of their home ; Yet true to glory, fann'd the generous flame. Bade lovers, brothers, sons aspire to fame ; In the young bosom cherish'd Virtue's seed, The secret springs of many a godlike deed. So the fair stream in some sequestor'd glade With lowly state glides silent through the shade ; Yet by the smiling meads her urn is blest. With freshest flowers her rising banks are drest, And groves of laurel by her sweetness fed, High o'er the forest lift their verdant head. the Is there whom genius and whom taste adorn With rare but happy union ; in whose breast Calm, philosophic, thoughtful, largely fraught With stores of various knowledge, dwell powers That trace out secret causes, and unveil Great Nature's awful face ? Is there whose hours Of still domestic leisure breathe the soul Of friendship, peace, and elegant delight Beneath poetic shades, where leads the muse Through walks of fragance, and the fairy groves Where young ideas blossom ? — Is there one Whose tender hand, lenient of human woes. Wards off the dart of death, and smooths the couch Of torturing anguish ? On so dear a name May blessings dwell, honour and cordial praise ; Nor heed he be a brother to be loved. Champion of Truth, alike through Nature's field, And where in sacred leaves she shines reveal'd,— Alike in both, eccentric, piercing, bold. Like his own lightnings, which no chains can hold ; Neglecting caution, and disdaining art, He seeks no armour for a naked heart : — Pursue the track thy ardent genius shows. That like the sun illumines where it goes ; MISCELLANEOUS. 39 Travel the various map of Science o'er, Record past wonders, and discover more ; Pour thy free spirit o'er the breathing page, And walie the virtue of a careless age. But O forgive, if touched with fond regret Fancy recalls the scenes she can't forget, Recalls the vacant smile, the social hours Which charm'd us once, for once those scenes were ours ! And while thy praises through wide realms extend, We sit in shades, and mourn the absent friend. So where th' impetuous river sweeps the plain, Itself a sea, and rushes to the main ; While its firm banks repel conflicting tides, And stately on its breast the vessel glides ; Admiring much the shepherd stands to gaze, Awe-struck, and mingling wonder with his praise ; Yet more he loves its winding path to trace Through beds of flowers, and Nature's rural face. While yet a stream the silent vale is cheer'd. By many a recollected scene endear'd, Where trembling first beneath the poplar shade He tuned his pipe, to suit the wild cascade. AN INVENTORY OF THE FURNITURE IN R. PRIESTLEY'S STUDY. A MAP of every country known, With not a foot of land his own. A list of folks that kick'd a dust On this poor globe, from Ptol. the First ; He hopes, — indeed it is but fair, — Some day to get a corner there. A group of all the British kings, Fair emblem ! on a packthread swings. The fathers, ranged in goodly row, A decent, venerable show, Writ a great while ago, they tell us. And many an inch o'ertop their fellows. A Juvenal to hunt for mottoes ; And Ovid's tales of nymphs and grottoes. The meek-robed lawyers, all in white ; Pure as the lamb, — at least to sight. A shelf of bottles, jar and phial. By which the rogues he can defy all, — All fill'd with lightning keen and genuine, And many a little imp he'll pen you in ; Which, like Le Sage's sprite, let out Among the neighbours makes a rout ; Brings down the lightning on their houses, And kills their geese, and frights their spouses. A rare thermometer, by which He settles to the nicest pitch, The just degrees of heat, to raise Sermons, or politics, or plays. Papers and books, a strange mix'd olio, From shilling touch to pompous folio ; Answer, remark, reply, rejoinder. Fresh from the mint, all stamp'd and coin'd here ; Like new-made glass, set by to cool. Before it bears the workman's tool. A blotted proof-sheet, wet from Bowling. — " How can a man his anger hold in ?" — Forgotten rhymes, and college themes, Worm-eaten plans, and embryo schemes ; — A mass of heterogeneous matter, A chaos dark, nor land nor water ; — New books, like new-born infants, stand, Waiting the printer's clothing hand ; — Others, a motley ragged brood. Their limbs unfashion'd all, and rude. Like Cadmus' half-form'd men appear ; One rears a helm, one lifts a spear. And feet were lopp'd and fingers torn Before their fellow limbs were born ; A leg began to kick and sprawl Before the head was seen at all. Which quiet as a mushroom lay Till crumbling hillocks gave it way ; And all, like controversial writing. Were born with teeth, and sprung up fighting " But what is this," I hear you cry , " WTiich saucily provokes my eye ?" — A thing unknown, without a name. Born of the air and doom'd to flame. ON A LADY'S WRITING. Her even lines her steady temper show, Neat as her dress, and polish'd as her brow ; Strong as her judgment, easy as her air ; Correct though free, and regular though fair; And the same graces o'er her pen preside, That form her manners and her footsteps guide ON THE DESERTED VILLAGE. In vain fair Auburn weeps her desert plains, She moves our envy who so well complains ; In vain has proud oppression laid her low. So sweet a garland on her faded brow. Now, Auburn, now absolve impartial fate. Which if it made thee wretched, makes thee great So, unobserved, some humble plant may bloom. Till crush'd it fills the air with sweet perfume ; So, had thy swains in ease and 7)lenty slept. Thy poet had not sung, nor Britain wept. Nor let Britannia mourn her drooping bay, Unhonour'd genius, and her swift decay ; O patron of the poor ! it cannot be, While one — one poet yet remains like thee ! Nor can the muse desert our favour'd isle, Till thou desert the muse and scorn her smile HYMN TO CONTENT. natura beatis Omnibus esse dedit, si quis cognoverit uti. Claudi. O THOU, the nymph with placid eye ! seldom found, yet ever nigh ! Receive my temperate vow : Not all the storms that shake the pole Can e'er disturb thy halcyon soul, And smooth unalter'd brow. 40 BARJ3AULD. O come, in simple vest array'd, With all thy sober cheer display'd. To bless my longing sight ; Thy mien composed, thy even pace, Thy meek regard, thy matron grace, And chaste subdued delight. No more by varying passions beat, O gently guide my pilgrim feet To find thy hermit cell ; Where in some pure and equal sky, Beneath thy soft indulgent eye, The modest virtues dwell. Simplicity in Attic vest, And Innocence with candid breast, And clear undaunted eye ; And Hope, who points to distant years. Fair opening through this vale of tears A vista to the sky. There Health, through whose calm bosom glide The temperate joys in even tide. That rarely ebb or flow ; And Patience there, thy sister meek, Presents her mild unvarying cheek To meet the offer'd blow. Her influence taught the Phrygian sage A tyrant master's wanton rage With settled smiles to meet : Inured to toil and bitter bread. He bow'd his meek submitted head. And kiss'd thy sainted feet. But thou, O nymph retired and coy I In what brown hamlet dost thou joy To tell thy tender tale ? The lowliest children of the ground. Moss-rose, and violet blossom round. And lily of the vale. say what soft propitious hour 1 best may choose to hail thy power. And court thy gentle sway ? When Autumn friendly to the muse, Shall thy own modest tints diffuse. And shed thy milder day. When Eve, her dewy star beneath, Thy balmy spirit loves to breathe. And every storm is laid ; — If such an hour was e'er thy choice. Oft let me hear thy soothing voice Low whispering through the shade. THE ORIGIN OF SONG-WRITINC* niic indocto primum se exercuit arcu ; Hei mihi quam doctas nunc habet ille manus ! TlBUL. When Cupid, wanton boy ! was young. His wings unfledged, and rude his tongue, He loiter'd in Arcadian bowers. And hid his bow in wreaths of flowers ; * Addressed to the Author of Essays on Song-writing. Or pierced some fond unguarded heart With now and then a random dart ; But heroes scorned the idle boy. And love was but a shepherd's toy. When Venus, vex'd to see her child Amid the forests thus run wild, Would point him out some nobler game- Gods and godlike men to tame. She seized the boy's reluctant hand. And led him to the virgin band. Where the sister muses round Swell the deep majestic sound ; And in solemn strains unite, Breathing chaste, severe delight ; Songs of chiefs and heroes old. In unsubmitting virtue bold": Of even valour's temperate heat, And toils to stubborn patience sweet ; Of nodding plumes and bumish'd arms, And glory's bright terrific charms. The potent sounds like lightning dart Resistless through the glowing heart; Of power to lift the fixed soul High o'er Fortune's proud control ; Kindling deep, prophetic musing ; Love of beauteous death infusing ; Scorn, and unconquerable hate Of tyrant pride's unhallow'd state. The boy abash'd, and half afraid, Beheld each chaste immortal maid : Pallas spread her Egis there ; Mars stood by with threatening air ; And stern Diana's icy look With sudden chill his bosom struck. "Daughters of Jove, receive the child," The queen of beauty said, and smiled ; — Her rosy breath perfumed the air. And scatter'd sweet contagion there Relenting Nature leam'd to languish. And sicken'd with delightful anguish : — " Receive him artless yet and young ; Refine his air, and smooth his tongue : Conduct him through your favourite bowers Enrich'd with fair perennial flowers. To solemn shades and springs that lie Remote from each unhallow'd eye ; Teach him to spell those mystic names That kindle bright immortal flames : And guide his young unpractised feet To reach coy Learning's lofty seat." Ah, luckless hour ! mistaken maids, When Cupid sought the muses' shades ! Of their sweetest notes beguiled. By the sly insiduous child ; Now of power his darts are found Twice ten thousand times to wound. Now no more the slacken'd strings Breathe of high immortal things. But Cupid tunes the Muse's lyre To languid notes of soft desire. In every clime, in every tongue, 'Tis love inspires the poet's song. Hence Sappho's soft infectious page ; Monimia's wo ; Othello's rage ; Abandon'd Dido's fruitless prayer ; And Eloisa's long despair ; The garland, blest with many a vow. For haughty Sacharissa's brow ; ADDRESS TO THE DEITY. 41 And wash'd with tears, the mournful verse That Petrarch laid on Laura's hearse. But more than all the sister choir, Music confess'd the pleasing fire. Here sovereign Cupid reign'd alone ; Music and song were all his own. Sweet as in old Arcadian plains, The British pipe has caught the strains : And where the Tweed's pure current glides. Or Ljffy rolls her limpid tides ; Or Thames his oozy waters leads Through rural bowers or yellow meads, — With many an old romantic tale Has cheer'd the lone sequester'd vale ; With many a sweet and tender lay Deceived the tiresome summer day. 'Tis yours to cull with happy art Each meaning verse that speaks the heart ; And fair array'd, in order meet, To lay the wreath at Beauty's feet. ODE TO SPRING. Sweet daughter of a rough and stormy sire, Hoar Winter's blooming child ; delightful Spring •' Whose unshorn locks with leaves And swelling buds are crown'd ; From tlie green islands of eternal youth, — Crown'd with fresh blooms and ever springing shade, — Turn, hither turn thy step, O thou, whose powerful voice More sweet than softest touch of Doric reed. Or Lydian flute, can sooth the madding wind, — And through the stormy deep Breathe thine own tender calm. Thee, best beloved ! the virgin train await With songs and festal rites, and joy to rove Thy blooming wilds among, And vales and dewy laviTis, With untired feet ; and cull thy earliest sweets To weave fresh garlands for the glowing brow Of him, the favoured youth That prompts their whisper'd sigh. Unlock thy copious stores, — those tender showers That drop their sweetness on the infant buds ; And silent dews that swell ~ The milky ear's green stem. And feed the flowering osier's early shoots ; And call those winds which through the whispering boughs With warm and pleasant breath Salute the blowing flowers. Now let me sit beneath the whitening thorn, And mark thy spreading tints steal o'er the dale ; And watch with patient eye Thy fair unfolding charms. O nymph, approach! while yet the temperate sun With bashful forehead through the cold moist air Throws his young maiden beams. And with chaste kisses woos 6 The earth's fair bosom ; while the streaming veil Of lucid clouds with kind and frequent shade Protects thy modest blooms From his severer blaze. Sweet is thy reign, but short :— The red dog-star Shall scorch thy tresses, and the mower's scythe Thy greens, thy flowerets all. Remorseless shall destroy. Reluctant shall 1 bid thee then farewell ; For 0, not all that Autumn's lap contains, Nor Summer's ruddiest fruits, Can aught for thee atone. Fair Spring ! whose simplest promise more delights Than all their largest wealth, and through the heart Each joy and new-born hope With softest influence breathes. AN ADDRESS TO THE DEITY. God of my life ! and Author of my days ! Permit my feeble voice to lisp thy praise ; And trembling, take upon a mortal tongue That hallowed name, to harps of seraphs sung. Yet here the brightest seraphs could no more Than veil their faces, tremble, and adore. Worms, angels, men, in every different sphere, Are equal all, — for all are nothing here. All nature faints beneath the mighty name. Which nature's works through all their parta proclaim. I feel that name my inmost thoughts control. And breathe an awful stillness through my soul ; As by a charm, the waves of grief subside ; Impetuous Passion stops her headlong tide : At thy felt presence all emotions cease. And my hush'd spirit finds a sudden peace, Till every worldly thought within me dies. And earth's gay pageants vanish from my eyes ; Till all my sense is lost in infinite, And one vast object fills my aching sight. But soon, alas ! this holy calm is broke ; My soul submits to wear her wonted yoke ; With shackled pinions strives to soar in vain. And mingles with the dross of earth again. But he, our gracious Master, kind as just, Knowing our frame, remembers man is dust. His spirit, ever brooding o'er our mind. Sees the first wish to better hopes inclined ; Marks the young dawn of every virtuous aim, And fans the smoking flax into a flame. His ears are open to the softest cry. His grace descends to meet the lifted eye ; He reads the language of a silent tear. And sighs are incense from a heart sincere. Such are the vows, the sacrifice I give ; Accept the vow, and bid the suppliant live : From each terrestrial bondage set me free ; Still every wish that centres not in thee ; Bid my fond hopes, my vain disquiets cease, And point my path to everlasting peace. If the soft hand of winning Pleasure leads By living waters, and through flowery meads, When all is smiling, tranquil, and serene. And vernal beauty paints the flattering scene d2 42 BARBAULD. teach me to elude each latent snare. And whisper to my sliding heart,— Beware ! With caution let me hear the syren's voice, And doubtful, with a trembling heart, rejoice. If friendless, in a vale of tears I stray, Where briars wound, and thorns perplex my way, Still let my steady soul thy goodness see, And with strong confidence lay hold on thee; With equal eye my various lot receive, Resign 'd to die, or resolute to live ; Prepared to kiss the sceptre or the rod, While God is seen in all, and all in God. I read his awful name, emblazon'd high With golden letters on th' illumined sky ; Nor less the mystic characters I see Wrought in each flower, inscribed in every tree ; In every leaf that trembles to the breeze 1 hear the voice of God among the trees ; With thee in shady solitudes I walk, With thee in busy crowded cities talk ; In every creature own thy forming power, In each event thy providence adore. Thy hopes shall animate my drooping soul. Thy precepts guide me, and thy fears control : Thus shall I rest, unmoved by all alarms, Secure within the temple of thine arms ; From anxious cares, from gloomy terrors free, And feel myself omnipotent in thee. Then when the last, the closing hour, draws nigh, And earth recedes before my swimming eye ; When trembling on the doubtful edge of fate I stand, and stretch my view to either state : Teach me to quit this transitory scene With decent triumph, and a look serene ; Teach me to fix my ardent hopes on high, And having lived to Thee, in Thee to die. A SUMMER EVENING'S MEDITATION. 'Tis past ! the sultry tyrant of the south Has spent his short-lived rage ; more grateful hours Move silent on ; the skies no more repel The dazzled sight, but with mild maiden beams Of temper'd lustre court the cherish'd eye To wander o'er their sphere ; where hung aloft Dian's bright crescent, like a silver bow New strung in heaven, lifts high its beamy horns Impatient for the night, and seems to push Her brother down the sky. Fair Venus shines E'en in the eye of day ; with sweetest beam Propitious shines, and shakes a trembling flood Of soften'd radiance from her dewy locks. The shadows spread apace ; while meeken'd Eve, Her cheek yet warm with blushes, slow retires Through the Hesperian gardens of the west. And shuts the gates of day. 'Tis now the hour When Contemplation from her sunless haunts, The cool damp grotto, or the lonely depth Of unpiereed woods, where wrapt in solid shade She mused away the gaudy hours of noon. And fed on thoughts unripen'd by the sun, Moves forward ; and with radiant finger points To yon blue concave swell'd by breath divine, Where, one by one, the living eyes of heaven a. wake, quick kindling o'er the face of ether One boundless blaze ; ten thousand trembling fires. And dancing lustres, where the unsteady eye, Restless and dazzled, wanders unconfined O'er all this field of glories; spacious field, And worthy of the Master : he, whose hand With hieroglyphics elder than the Nile Inscribed the mystic tablet, hung on high To public gaze, and said, " Adore, man! The finger of thy God." From what pure wells Of milky light, what soft o'erflowing urn. Are all these lamps so fill'd ? these friendly lamps For ever streaming o'er the azure deep To point our path, and light us to our home. How soft they slide along their lucid spheres ! And silent as the foot of Time, fulfil Their destined courses : Nature's self is hush'd, And, but a scatter'd leaf, which rustles through The thick-wove foliage, not a sound is heard To break the midnight air ; though the raised ear, Intensely listening, drinks in every breath. How deep the silence, yet how loud the praise I But are they silent all ? or is there not A tongue in every star, that talks with man, And woos him to be wise ? nor woos in vain : This dead of midnight is the noon of thought, And Wisdom mounts her zenith with the stars. At this still hour the self-collected soul Turns inward, and beholds a stranger there Of high descent, and more than mortal rank ; An embryo god ; a spark of fire divine, Which must burn on for ages, when the sun, — Fair transitory creature of a day ! — Has closed his golden eye, and wrapped in shades Forgets his wonted journey through the east. Ye citadels of light, and seats of gods ! Perhaps my future home, from whence the soul, Revolving periods past, may oft look back With recollected tenderness on all The various busy scenes she left below. Its deep-laid projects, and its strange events, As on some fond and dealing tale that sooth'd Her infant hours — O be it lawful now To tread the hallow'd circle of your courts, And with mute wonder and delighted awe Approach your burning confines. Seized in thought. On Fancy's wild and roving wing I sail, From the green borders of the peopled Earth, And the pale Moon, her duteous fair attendant ; From solitary Mars ; from the vast orb Of Jupiter, whose huge gigantic bulk Dances in ether like the lightest leaf; To the dim verge, the suburbs of the system, Where cheerless Saturn midst his watery moons Girt with a lucid zone, in gloomy pomp, Sits like an exiled monarch : fearless thence I launch into the trackless deeps of space, Where, burning round, ten thousand suns appear, Of elder beam, which ask no leave to shine Of our terrestrial star, nor borrow light From the proud regent of our scanty day ; Sons of the morning, first-born of creation And only less than Him who marks their track, And guides their fiery wheels. Here must I stop, Or is there aught beyond ? What hand unsee Impels me onward through the glowing orbs Of habitable nature, far remote, To the dread confines of eternal night. To solitudes of vast unpeopled space, A SCHOOL ECLOGUE. 43 The deserts of creation, wide and wild ; Where embryo systems and unkindled suns Sleep in the womb of chaos ? fancy droops, And thought astonish'd stops her bold career. But O thou mighty Mind ! whose powerful word Said, thus let all things be, and thus they were, Where shall I seek thy presence ? how unblamed Invoke thy dread perfection ? Have the broad eyelids of the morn beheld thee ? Or does the beamy shoulder of Orion Support thy throne ? O look with pity down On erring, guilty man! not in thy names Of terror clad : not with those thunders arm'd That conscious Sinai felt, when fear appall'd The scatter'd tribes ; — thou hast a gentler voice. That whispers comfort to the swelling heart Abash'd, yet longing to behold her Maker. But now my soul, unused to stretch her powers In flight so daring, drops her weary wing, And seeks again the known accustom'd spot, Drest up with sun, and shade, and lawns and streams, A mansion fair, and spacious for its guest, And full replete with wonders. Let me here, Content and grateful, wait th' appointed time. And ripen for the skies : the hour will come When all these splendours bursting on my sight Shall stand unveiled, and to my ravished sense Unlock the glories of the world unknown. TO-MORROW. See where the falling day In silence steals away Behind the western hills withdrawn : Her fires are quench'd, her beauty fled. While blushes all her face o'erspread, As conscious she had ill fulfill'd The promise of the dawn. Another morning soon shall rise, Another day salute our eyes, As smiling and as fair as she. And make as many promises : But do not thou The tale believe, They're sisters all, And all deceive. A SCHOOL ECLOGUE. Edward. Hist, William ! hist ! what means that air so gay ? Thy looks, thy dress, bespeak some holyday : Thy hat is brush'd ; thy hands, with wondrous pains, Are cleansed from garden mould and inky stains ; Thy glossy shoes confess the lackey's care ; And recent from the comb shines thy sleek hair. What god, what saint, this prodigy has wrought ?* Declare the cause, and ease my labouring thought? • Sed tamen, ille Deus qui sit, da Tityre nobis. William. John, faithful John, is with the horses come ; Mamma prevails, and I am sent for home. Harry. Thrice happy whom such welcome tidings greet '* Thrice happy who reviews his native seat! For him the matron spreads her candied hoard. And early strawberries crown the smiling board; For him crush'd gooseberries with rich cream combine. And bending boughs their fragrant fruit resign : Custards and sillabubs his taste invite ; Sports fill the day, and feasts prolong the night. Think not I envy, I admire thy fate :t Yet, ah ! what different tasks thy comrades wait! Some in the grammar's thorny maze to toil, Some with rude strokes the snowy paper soil. Some o'er barbaric climes in maps to roam. Far from their mother-tongue, and dear loved home.t Harsh names,of uncouth sound, their memories load, And oft their shoulders feel th' unpleasant goad. Edward. Doubt not our turn will come some future time. Now, William, hear us twain contend in rhyme ; For yet thy horses have not eat their hay. And unconsumed as yet th' allotted hour of play. William. Then spout alternate, I consent to hear,? — Let no false rhyme offend my critic ear ; — But say, what prizes shall the victor hold ? I guess your pockets are not lined with gold ! Harry. A ship these hands have built, in every part Carved, rigg'd, and painted, with the nicest art ; The ridgy sides are black with pitchy store, From stem to stern 'tis twice ten inches o'er. The lofty mast, a straight smooth hazel framed, The tackling silk, the Charming Sally named ; And, — but take heed lest thou divulge the tale, — The lappet of my shirt supplied the sail , An azure riband for a pendant flies : — Now, if thy verse excel, be this the prize. Edward. For me at home the careful housewives make, With plums and almonds rich, an ample cake. Smooth is the top, a plain of shining ice, The West its sweetness gives, the East its spice : From soft Ionian isles, well known to fame, Ulysses once, the luscious currant came. The green transparent citron Spain bestows. And from her golden groves the orange glows. So vast the heaving mass, it scarce has room Within the oven's dark capacious womb ; 'Twill be consign'd to the next carrier's care, I cannot yield it all, — be half thy share. » Fortunate senex, his inter flumina nota. tNon equidem invideo, miror magis. ; At DOS tiinc alii sitientes ibimus Afros, Pars Scythiam, et rapidum Cretffi veniemus Oaxcm. § Alternis dicetis. 44 BARBAULD. Well does the gift thy liquorish palate suit ; I know who robb'd the orchard of its fruit.* When all were wrapt in sleep, one early mom, While yet the dew-drop trembled on the thorn, I mark'd when o'er the quickset hedge you leapt. And, sly, beneath the gooseberry bushes crept ;t Then shook the trees ; a shower of apples fell,— And where the hoard you kept, I know full well ; The mellow gooseberries did themselves produce, For through thy pocket oozed the viscous juice. Harry I scorn a telltale, or I could declare How, leave unask'd, you sought the neighbouring fair; Then home by moonlight spurr'd your jaded steed, And scarce return'd before the hour of bed. Think how thy trembling heart had felt affright, Had not our master supp'd abroad that night. Edward. On the smooth whitewash'd ceiling near thy bed, Mix'd with thine own, is Anna's cipher read ; From wreaths of dusky smoke the letters flow ; — Whose hand the waving candle held, I know. Fines and jobations shall thy soul appal. Whene'er our mistress spies the sullied wall. Harry. Unconn'd her lesson once, in idle mood, Trembling before her master, Anna stood I mark'd what prompter near her took his place, And, whispering, saved the virgin from disgrace : Much is the youth belied, and much the maid. Or more than words the whisper soft convey'd. Edward. Think not I blush to own so bright a flame, E'en boys for her assume the lover's name ; — As far as alleys beyond taws we prize,| Or venison pasty ranks above school pies ; As much as peaches beyond apples please. Or Parmesan excels a Suffolk cheese ; Or Palgrave donkeys lag behind a steed, — So far do Anna's charms all other charms exceed. Harry. Tell, if thou canst, where is that creature bred, Whose wide-stretch'd mouth is larger than its head: Guess, and my great Apollo thou shalt be,$ And cake and ship shall both remain with thee. Edward. Explain thou first, what portent late was seen. With strides impetuous, posting o'er the green ; Three heads, like Cerberus, the monster bore. And one was sidelong fix'd, and two before ; Eight legs, depending from his ample sides. Each well-built flank unequally divides ; For five on this, on that side three, are found. Four swiftly move, aud four not touch the ground. Long time the moving prodigy I view'd, By gazing men and barking dogs pursued. • Non ego, te vidi, Damonis t Tu post carecta latebas. t Lenta salix quantum pallenti cedit olivEC. § Die quibus in terris, et eris mihi magnus Apollo. William. Cease ! cease your carols, both ! for lo the bell, With jarring notes, has rung out Pleasure's knell. Your startled comrades, ere the game be done, Quit their unfinish'd sports, and trembling run. Haste to your forms before the master call ! With thoughtful step he paces o'er the hall, Does with stern looks each playful loiterer greet, Counts with his eye, and marks each vacant seat ; Intense the buzzing murmur grows around. Loud through the dome the usher's strokes resound: Sneak off, and to your places slyly steal, Before the prowess of his arm you feel. WHAT DO THE FUTURES SPEAK OF 1 IN ANSWER TO A aUESTION IN THE GREEK GRAMMAR. They speak of never- withering shades. And bowers of opening joy ; They promise mines of fairy gold. And bliss without alloy They whisper strange enchanting things Within Hope's greedy ears ; And sure this tuneful voice exceeds The music of the spheres They speak of pleasure to the gay, And wisdom to the wise ; And soothe the poet's beating heart With fame that never dies. To virgins languishing in love, They speak the minute nigh ,• And warm consenting hearts they join. And paint the rapture high. In every language, every tongue. The same kind things they say ; In gentle slumbers speak by night. In waking dreams by day. Cassandra's fate reversed is theirs ; She, true, no faith could gain, — They, every passing hour deceive, Yet are believed again. THE RIGHTS OF WOMAN. Yes, injured woman ! rise, assert thy right ! Woman ! too long degraded, scorn'd, opprest ; O born to rule in partial Law's despite. Resume thy native empire o'er the breast! Go forth array'd in panoply divine ; That angel pureness which admits no stain , Go, bid proud man his boasted rule resign. And kiss the golden sceptre of thy reign Go, gird thyself with grace ; collect thy store Of bright artillery glancing from afar ; Soft melting tones thy thundering cannon's roar Blushes and fears thy magazine of war. WASHING-DAY. 45 Thy rights are empire : urge no meaner claim, — Felt, not defined, and if debated, lost ; Like sacred mysteries, which withheld from fame, Shunning discussion, are revered the most. Try all that wit and art suggest to bend Of thy imperial foe the stubborn knee ; Make treacherous man thy subject, not thy friend ; Thou mayst command, but never canst be free. Awe the licentious, and restrain the rude ; Soften the sullen, clear the cloudy brow : Be, more than princes' gifts, thy favours sued ; She hazards all, who will the least allow. But hope not, courted idol of mankind. On this proud eminence secure to stay ; Subduing and subdued, thou soon shall find Thy coldness soften, and thy pride give way. Then, then, abandon each ambitious thought. Conquest or rule thy heart shall feebly move. In Nature's school, by her soft maxims taught. That separate rights are lost in mutual love. WASHING-DAY. And their voice. Turning again towards childish treble, pipes And whistles in its sound. The muses are turn'd gossips ; they have lost The buskin'd step, and clear high-sounding phrase, Language of gods. Come then, domestic muse. In slipshod measure loosely prattling on Of farm or orchard, pleasant curds and cream. Or drowning flies, or shoe lost in the mire By little whimpering boy, with rueful face ; Come, muse, and sing the dreaded washing-day. Ye who beneath the yoke of wedlock bend. With bow'd soul, full well ye ken the day Which week, smooth sliding after week, brings on Too soon ; — for to that day nor peace belongs Nor comfort ; — ere the first gray streak of dawn. The red-arm'd washers come and chase repose. Nor pleasant smile, nor quaint device of mirth, E'er visited that day : the very cat. From the wet kitchen scared and reeking hearth, Visits the parlour, — an unwonted guest. The silent breakfast-meal is soon despatch'd ; Uninterrupted, save by anxious looks Cast at the lowering sky, if sky should lower. From that last evil, O preserve us, heavens ! For should the skies pour down, adieu to all Remains of quiet : then expect to hear Of sad disasters, — dirt and gravel stains Hard to efface, and loaded lines at once Snapp'd short, — and linen horse by dog thrown down. And all the petty miseries of life. Saints have been calm while stretch'd upon the rack. And Guatimozin smiled on burning coals ; But never yet did housewife notable Greet with a smile a rainy washing-day. —But grant the welkin fair, require not thou vVho call'st thyself perchance the master there. Or study swept, or nicely dusted coat. Or usual 'tendance ; — ask not, indiscreet. Thy stockings mended, though the yawning rents Gape wide as Erebus ; nor hope to find Some snug recess impervious : shouldst thou try The 'custom'd garden walks, thine eye shall rue The budding fragrance of thy tender shrubs, Myrtle or rose, all crush'd beneath the weight Of coarse check'd apron, — with impatient hand Twitch'd off when showers impend : or crossing lines Shall mar thy musings, as the wet cold sheet Flaps in thy face abrupt. Wo to the friend Whose evil stars have urged him forth to claim On such a day the hospitable rites ! Looks blank at best, and stinted courtesy, Shall he receive. Vainly he feeds his hopes With dinner of roast chickens, savoury pie. Or tart or pudding : — pudding he nor tart That day shall eat ; nor, though the husband try, Mending what can't be help'd, to kindle mirtli From cheer deficient, shall his consort's brow Clear up propitious : — the unlucky guest In silence dines, and early slinks away. I well remember, when a child, the awe This day struck into me ; for then the maiJi?, I scarce knew why, look'd cross, and drove me from them : Nor soft caress could I obtain, nor hope Usual indulgencies ; jelly or creams. Relic of costly suppers, and set by For me their petted one ; or butter'd toast, When butter was forbid ; or thrilling tale Of ghost or witch, or murder — so I went And shelter'd me beside the parlour fire : There my dear grandmother, eldest of forms. Tended the little ones, and watch'd from harm. Anxiously fond, though oft her spectacles With elfin cunning hid, and oft the pins Drawn from her ravell'd stockings, might have sour'd One less indulgent. — At intervals my mother's voice was heard, Urging despatch : briskly the work went on, All hands empioy'd to wash, to rinse, to wring. To fold, and starch, and clap, and iron, and plait. Then would I sit me down, and ponder much Why washings were. Sometimes through hollow bowl Of pipe amused we blew, and sent aloft The floating bubbles ; little dreaming then To see, Montgolfier, thy silken ball Ride buoyant through the clouds— so near approach The sports of children and the toils of men. Earth, air, and sky, and ocean, hath its bubbles, And verse is one of them — this most of all. TO MR. S. T. COLERIDGE.— 1797. Midway the hill of science after steep And rugged paths that tire the unpractised feet, A grove extends in tangled mazes wrought, And fill'd with strange enchantment :— dubious shapes Flit through dim glades, and lure the eager foot 46 BARBAULD. Of youthful ardour to eternal chase. Dreams hang on every leaf; unearthly forms Glide through the gloom ; and mystic visions swim Before the cheated sense. Athwart the mists, Far into vacant space, huge shadows stretch, And seem realities ; while things of life. Obvious to sight and touch, all glowing round, Fade to the hue of shadows. — Scruples here, With filmy net, most like th' autumnal webs Of floating gossamer, arrest the foot Of generous enterprise ; and palsy hope And fair ambition with the chilling touch Of sickly hesitation and blank fear. Nor seldom Indolence these lawns among Fixes her turf-built seat ; and wears the garb Of deep philosophy, and museful sits. In dreamy twilight of the vacant mind. Soothed by the whispering shade ; for soothing soft The shades ; and vistas lengthening into air, With moonbeam rainbows tinted. — Here each mind Of finer mould acute and delicate. In its high progress to eternal truth Rests for a space, in fairy bowers entranced ; And loves the soften'd light and tender gloom ; And, pamper'd with most unsubstantial food. Looks down indignant on the grosser world. And matters cumbrous shaping. Youth beloved Of Science — of the Muse beloved, — not here, Not in the maze of metaphysic lore. Build thou thy place of resting ! lightly tread The dangerous ground, on noble aims intent ; And be this Circe of the studious cell Enjoy'd but still subservient. Active scenes Shall soon with healthful spirit brace thy mind ; And fair exertion for bright fame sustain'd. For friends, for country chase each spleen-fed fog That blots the wide creation. — Now Heaven conduct thee with a parent's love ! THE UNKNOWN GOD. To learned Athens, led by fame, As once the man of Tarsus came. With pity and surprise. Midst idol altars as he stood. O'er sculptured marble, brass, and wood. He roH'd his awful eyes. But one, apart, his notice caught, That seem'd with higher meaning fraught. Graved on the wounded stone ; Nor form nor name was there express'd ; Deep reverence fill'd the musing breast. Perusing, " To the God unknown." Age after age has roU'd away, Altars and thrones have felt decay, Sages and saints have risen ; And, like a giant roused from sleep, Man has explored the pathless deep. And lightnings snatch'd from heaven. And many a shrine in dust is laid, Where kneeling nations homage paid, By rock, or fount, or grove ; Ephesian Dian sees no more Her workmen fuse the silver ore, Nor Capitolian Jove. E'en Salem's hailow'd courts have ceased With solemn pomps her tribes to feast. No more the victim bleeds ; To censers fill'd with rare perfumes, And vestments from Egyptian looms, A purer rite succeeds. Yet still, where'er presumptuous man His Maker's essence strives to scan. And lifts his feeble hands. Though saint and sage their powers unite. To fathom that abyss of light. Ah ! still that altar stands. ODE TO REMORSE. Dread offspring of the holy light within. Offspring of Conscience and of Sin, Stern as thine awful sire, and fraught with wo. From bitter springs thy mother taught to now, — Remorse ! To man alone 'tis given Of all on earth, or all in heaven. To wretched man thy bitter cup to drain. Feel thy awakening stings, and taste thy whole- some pain. Midst Eden's blissful bowers, And amaranthine flowers, Thy birth portentous dimm'd the orient day, What time our hapless sire, O'ercome by fond desire. The high command presumed to disobey ; Then didst thou rear thy snaky crest, And raise thy scorpion lash to tear the guilty breast : And never, since that fatal hour, May man, of woman born, expect t' escape thy power. Thy goading stings tlie branded Cain Cross th' untrodden desert drove. Ere from his cradling home and native plain Domestic man had learnt to rove. By gloomy shade or lonely flood Of vast primeval solitude. Thy step his hurried steps pursued, Thy voice awoke his conscious fears, For ever sounding in his ears A father's curse, a brother's blood ; Til] life was misery too great to bear, And torturing thought was lost in sullen, dumb despair. The king who sat on Judah's throne, By guilty love to murder wrought. Was taught thy searching power to own, When, sent of Heaven, the seer his royal presence sought. As, wrapt in artful phrase, with sorrow feign'd. He told of helpless, meek distress. And wrongs that sought from power redress. The pity-moving tale his ear obtain'd, ODE TO REMORSE. And bade his better feelings wake : Then, sudden as the trodden snake On the scared traveller darts his fangs, The prophet's bold rebuke aroused thy keenest pangs. And O that look, that soft upbraiding look ! A thousand cutting, tender things it spoke,— The sword so lately drawn was not so keen, — Which, as the injured Master turn'd him round. In the strange solemn scene, And the shrill clarion gave th' appointed sound, Pierced sudden through the reins. Awakening all thy pains. And drew a silent shower of bitter tears Down Peter's blushing cheek, late pale with cow- ard fears. Cruel Remorse! where Youth and Pleasure sport. And thoughtless Folly keeps her court, — Crouching midst rosy bowers thou lurk'st unseen ; Slumbering the festal hours away, While Youth disports in that enchanting scene ; Till on some fated day Thou with a tiger-spring dost leap upon thy prey. And tear his helpless breast, o'erwhelm'd, with wild dismay. Mark that poor wretch with clasped hands! Pale o'er his parent's grave he stands, — The grave by his ingratitude prepared ; Ah then, where'er he rests his head, On roses pillow'd or the softest down. Though festal wreaths his temples crown, He well might envy Guatimozin's bed. With burning coals and sulphur spread. And with less agony his torturing hour have shared. For Thou art by to point the keen reproach ; Thou draw'st the curtains of his nightly couch, Bring'st back the reverend face with tears bedew'd. That o'er his follies yearn'd ; The warnings oft in vain renew'd. The looks of anguish and of love, His stubborn breast that failed to move. When in the scorner's chair he sat, and wholesome counsel spurn'd. Lives there a man whose labouring breast Is with some dark and guilty secret prest. Who hides within its inmost fold Strange crimes to mortal ear untold ? In vain to sad Chartreuse he flies. Midst savage rocks and cloisters dim and drear. And there to shun thee tries : In vain untold his crime to mortal ear. Silence and whisper'd sounds but make thy voice more clear. Lo. where the cowled monk vnth frantic rage Lifts high the sounding scourge, his bleeding shoulders smites! Penance and fasts his anxious thoughts engage. Weary his days and joyless are his nights. His naked feet the flinty pavement tears, His knee at every shrine the marble wears ; — 47 Why does he lift the cruel scourge ? The restless pilgrimage why urge ? 'Tis all to quell thy fiercer rage, 'Tis all to sooth thy deep despair, [bear. He courts the body's pangs, for thine he cannot See o'er the bleeding corse of her he loved, The jealous murderer bends unmoved, Trembling with rage, his livid lips express His frantic passion's wild and rash excess. O God, she's innocent ! — transfixt he stands, Pierced through with shafts from thine avenging hands ; Down his pale cheek no tear will flow. Nor can he shun, nor can he bear, his wo. 'Twas phantoms summon'd by thy power Round Richard's couch at midnight hour. That scared the tyrant from unblest repose ; With frantic haste, "To horse! to horse!" he cries, While on his crowned brow cold sweat-drops rise, And fancied spears his spear oppose ; But not the swiftest steed can bear away From thy firm grasp thine agonizing prey. Thou wast the fiend, and thou alone, That stood'st by Beaufort's mitred head. With upright hair and visage ghastly pale : Thy terrors shook his dying bed, Past crimes and blood his sinking heart assail. His hands are clasp'd, — hark to that hollow groan! See how his glazed, dim eye-balls w'ildly roll, 'Tis not dissolving Nature's pains ; that pang is of the soul. Where guilty souls are doom'd to dwell, 'Tis thou that makest their fiercest hell. The vulture thou that on their liver feeds, As rise to view their past unhallow'd deeds ; With thee condemn'd to stay. Till time has roU'd away Long eras of uncounted years. And every stain is wash'd in soft repentant tears. Servant of God — but unbeloved — proceed. For thou must live and ply thy scorpion scourge : Tliy sharp upbraidings urge Against th' unrighteous deed. Till thine accursed mother shall expire. And a new world spring forth from renovating fire O ! when the glare of day is fled, And calm, beneath the evening star, Reflection leans her pensive head, And calls the passions to her solemn bar ; Reviews the censure rash, the hasty word, The purposed act too long deferr'd, Of time the wasted treasures lent. And fair occasions lost, and golden hours mispent: When anxious Memory numbers o'er Each ofl^er'd prize we failed to seize ; Or friends laid low, whom now no more Our fondest love can serve or please. And thou, dread power! bring'st back, in terrors drest, Th' irrevocable past, to stmg the careless breast ; — O I in that hour be mine to luiow, While fast the silent sorrows flow, 48 13ARBAULD. And wisdom cherishes the wholesome pain, No heavier guilt, no deeper stain. Than tears of meek contrition may atone. Shed at the mercy-seat of Heaven's eternal throne. ON THE DEATH OF THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE. Yes, Britain mourns, as with electric touch. For youth, for love, for happiness destroy'd, Her universal population melts In grief spontaneous, and hard hearts are moved, And rough, unpolish'd natures learn to feel For those they envied, levell'd in the dust By Fate's impartial stroke; and pulpits sound With vanity and wo to earthly goods. And urge and dry the tear. — Yet one there is Who midst this general burst of grief remains In strange tranquillity ; whom not the stir And long-drawn murmurs of the gathering crowd. That by his very windows trail the pomp Of hearse, and blazon'd arms, and long array Of sad funereal rites, nor the loud groans And deep-felt anguish of a husband's heart. Can move to mingle with this flood one tear : In careless apathy, perhaps in mirth, IJe wears the day. Yet is he near in blood. The very stem on which this blossom grew, And at his knees she fondled in the charm And grace spontaneous which alone belongs To untaught infancy : — Yet, O forbear I Nor deem him hard of heart ; for awful, struck By Heaven's severest visitation, sad, Like a scathed oak amidst the forest trees, Lonely he stands ; — leaves bud, and shoot, and fall, He holds no sympathy with living nature Or time's incessant change. Then in this hour. While pensive thought is busy with the woes And restless change of poor humanity. Think then, O think of him, and breathe one prayer. From the full tide of sorrow spare one tear. For him who does not weep ! THE WAKE OF THE KING OF SPAIN.* Array'd in robes of regal state. But stiff and cold the monarch sate ; In gorgeous vests, his chair beside. Stood prince and peer, the nation's pride ; And paladin and high-born dame Their place amid the circle claim : And wands of office lifted high, And arms and blazon'd heraldry, — All mute like marble statues stand, Nor raise the eye, nor move the hand : No voice, no sound to stir the air, The silence of the grave is there. The portal opens— hark, a voice ! " Come forth, O king ! O king, rejoice ! The bowl is fill'd, the feast is spread. Come forth, O king !"— The king is dead. The bowl, the feast, he tastes no more, The feast of life for him is o'er. Again the sounding portals shake. And speaks again the voice that spake : — " The sun is high, the sun is warm, Forth to the field the gallants swarm, The foaming bit the courser champs, His hoof the turf impatient stamps ; Light on their steeds the hunters spring ; The sun is high — Come forth, O king!" Along these melancholy walls In vain the voice of pleasure calls : The horse may neigh, and bay the hound,- He hears no more ; his sleep is sound. Retire ; — once more the portals close ; Leave, leave him to his dread repose. * The kino's of Spain for nine days after death are placed sitting in robes of state with their attendants around them, and solemnly summoned by the proper olEcers to their meals and their amusements, as if living. I HYMNS. HYBIN I. Jehovah reigns : let every nation hear. And at his footstool bow with holy fear ; Let heaven's high arches echo with his name. And the wide peopled earth his praise proclaim ; Then send it down to hell's deep glooms resound- ing, [ing. Through all her caves in dreadful murmurs sound- He rules with wide and absolute command O'er the broad ocean and the steadfast land : Jehovah reigns, unbounded, and alone. And all creation hangs beneath his throne . He reigns alone ; let no inferior nature Usurp, or share the throne of the Creator. He saw the struggling beams of infant light Shoot through the massy gloom of ancient night ; His spirit hush'd the elemental strife. And brooded o'er the kindling seeds of life : Seasons and months began their long procession, And measured o'er the year in bright succession. The joyful sun sprung up th' ethereal way. Strong as a giant, as a bridegroom gay ; And the pale moon diffused her shadowy light Superior o'er the dusky brow of night ; Ten thousand glittering lamps the skies adorning. Numerous as dew-drops from the womb of morning Earth's blooming face with rising flowers he drest, And spread a verdant mantle o'er her breast ; Then from the hollow of his hand he pours The circling water round her winding shores. The new-born world in their cool arms embracing, And with soft murmurs still her banks caressing. At length she rose complete in finish'd pride. All fair and spotless, like a virgin bride ; Fresh with untarnish'd lustre as she stood, Her IVIaker bless'd his work, and call'd it good; The morning stars with joyful acclamation Exulting sang, and hail'd the new creation. HYMNS. 49 Yet this fair world, the creature of a day, Though built by God's right hand, must pass away ; And long oblivion creep o'er mortal things. The fate of empires, and the pride of kings : Eternal night shall veil their proudest story. And drop the curtain o'er all human glory. The sun himself, with weary clouds opprest, Shall in his silent, dark pavilion rest ; His golden urn shall broke and useless lie, Amidst the common ruins of the sky ; The stars rush headlong in the wild commotion. And bathe their glittering foreheads in the ocean But fix'd, O God ! for ever stands thy throne ; Jehovah reigns, a universe alone ; Th' eternal fire that feeds each vital flame, Collected, or diffused, is still the same. He dwells within his own unfathom'd essence. And fills all space with his unbounded presence. But O ! our highest notes the theme debase. And silence is our least injurious praise ; Cease, cease your songs, the daring flight control. Revere him in the stillness of the soul ; With silent duty meekly bend before him, And deep within your inmost hearts adore him. HYMN n. Praise to God immortal praise,* For the love that crowns our days ; Bounteous scource of every joy, Let thy praise our tongues employ ; For the blessings of the field, For the stores the gardens yield, For the vine's exalted juice, For the generous olive's use ; Flocks that whiten all the plain. Yellow sheaves of ripen'd grain ; Clouds that drop their fattening dews, Suns that temperate warmth diffuse ; All that Spring with bounteous hand Scatters o'er the smiling land ; All that liberal Aiitumn pours From her rich o'erflowing stores : These to thee, my God, we owe ; Source whence all our blessings flow ; And for these my soul shall raise Grateful vows and solemn praise. Yet should rising whirlwinds tear From its stem the ripening ear ; Should the fig tree's blasted shoot Drop her green untimely fruit ; Should the vine put forth no more, Nor the olive yield her store ; * Although the fig tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines, the labour of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no meat, the flocks shall be cut off from the fold, and there shall be no herd in the stalls : Yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the God of my salvation.— Hae. lii. 17, 18. 7 Though the sickening flocks should fall, And the herds desert the stall ; Should thine alter'd hand restrain The early and the latter rain; Blast each opening bud of joy. And the rising year destroy : Yet to thee my soul should raise Grateful vows, and solemn praise ; And, when every blessing's flown. Love thee — for thyself alone. HYMN III. FOR EASTER SUNDAY. Again the Lord of life and light Awakes the kindling ray ; Unseals the eyelids of the morn, And pours increasing day. O what a night was that, which wrapt The heathen world in gloom ! O what a sun which broke this day. Triumphant from the tomb ! This day be grateful homage paid, And loud hosannas sung ; Let gladness dwell in every heart. And praise on every tongue. Ten thousand differing lips shall join To hail this welcome morn, Which scatters blessings from its wings, To nations yet unborn. Jesus the friend of human kind, With strong compassion moved, Descended like a pitying God, To save the souls he loved. The powers of darkness leagued in vain To bind his soul in death ; He shook their kingdom when he fell, With his expiring breath. Not long the toils of hell could keep The hope of Judah's line ; Corruption never could take hold On aught so much divine. And now his conquering chariot wheels Ascend the lofty skies ; While broke beneath his powerful cross, Death's iron sceptre lies. Exalted high at God's right hand, The Lord of all below. Through him is pardoning love dispensed. And boundless blessings flow. And still for erring, guilty man, A brother's pity flows ; And still his bleeding heart is touch'd With memory of our woes. To thee, my Saviour and my King, Glad homage let me give ; And stand prepared like thee to die, With thee that I may live. E 50 BARBA ULD. HYMN IV. Behold, where breathing love divine, Our dying Master stands ! His weeping followers gathering round, Receive his last commands. From that mild teacher's parting lips What tender accents fell ! The gentle precept which he gave, Became its author well. " Blest is the man whose softening heart Feels all another's pain ; To whom the supplicating eye Was never raised in vain. Whose breast expands with generous warmth A stranger's woes to feel ; And bleeds in pity o'er the wound He wants the power to heal. " He spreads his kind supporting arms To every child of grief; His secret bounty largely flows, And brings unask'd relief. " To gentle offices of love His feet are never slow : He views through mercy's melting eye A brother in a foe. " Peace from the bosom of his God, My peace to him I give ; And when he kneels before the throne, His trembling soul shall live. " To him protection shall be shown, And mercy from above Descend on those who thus fulfil The perfect law of love." HYMN V. Awake, my soul ! lift up thine eyes, See where thy foes against thee rise, In long array, a numerous host ; Awake, my soul ! or thou art lost. Here giant Danger threatening stands, Mustering his pale terrific bands ; There Pleasure's silken banners spread, And willing souls are captive led. See where rebellious passions rage, And fierce desires and lusts engage ; The meanest foe of all the train Has thousands and ten thousands slain. Thou tread'st upon enchanted ground, Perils and snares beset thee round ; Beware of all, guard every part, But most, the traitor in thy heart. " Come then, my soul, now learn to wield The weight of thine immortal shield ; " Put on the armour from above Of heavenly truth and heavenly lore. The terror and the charm repel, And powers of earth, and powers of hell ; The Man of Calvary triumph'd here ; Why should his faithful followers fear ? 1 HiTMN VI. PIOUS FRIENDSHIP. How blest the sacred tie that binds In union sweet according minds ! How swift the heavenly course they run. Whose hearts, whose faith, whose hopes are one ! To each, the soul of each how dear, What jealous love, what holy fear ! How doth the generous flame within Refine from earth and cleanse from sin ! Their streaming tears together flow For human guilt and mortal wo ; Their ardent prayers together rise, Like mingling flames in sacrifice. Together both they seek the place Where God reveals his awful face ; How high, how strong, their raptures swell, There's none but kindred souls can tell. Nor shall the glowing flame expire When nature droops her sickening fire ; Then shall they meet in realms above, A heaven of joy — because of love. HYMN Vn. ' Come unto me all that are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Come, said Jesus' sacred voice, Come and make my paths your choice ; I will guide you to your home ; Weary pilgrim, hither come ! Thou, who houseless, sole, forlorn. Long hast borne the proud world's scorn, Long hast roam'd the barren waste, — Weary pilgrim, hither haste ! Ye, who toss'd on beds of pain. Seek for ease, but seek in vain, Ye whose swoll'n and sleepless eyes Watch to see the morning rise ; Ye, by fiercer anguish torn, In remorse for guilt who mourn ; Here repose your heavy care, A wounded spirit who can bear I Sinner, come ! for here is found Balm that flows for every wound : Peace, that ever shall endure, Rest eternal, sacred, sure. HYMN VIIL "The world is not their friend, nor the world's law." Lo where a crowd of pilgrims toil Yon craggy steeps among ! Strange their attire, and strange their mien, As wild they press along. Their eyes with bitter streaming tears Now bent towards the ground, Now rapt, to heaven their looks they raise. And bursts of song resound. HYMNS. 51 And hark I a voice from 'midst the throng Cries, " Stranger, wouldst thou know Our name, our race, our destined home. Our cause of joy or wo ? — " Our country is Imraanuel's land. We seek that promised soil ; The songs of Zion cheer our hearts, While strangers here we toil. " Oft do our eyes with joy o'erflow, And oft are bathed in tears : Yet naught but heaven our hopes can raise. And naught but sin our fears. " The flowers that spring along the road. We scarcely stoop to pluck ; We walk o'er beds of shining ore Nor waste one wishful look : " We tread the path our Master trod. We bear the cross he bore ; And every thorn that wounds our feet, His temples pierced before : " Our powers are oft dissolved away In ecstasies of love ; And while our bodies wander here. Our souls are fix'd above : " We purge our mortal dross away, Refining as we run ; But while we die to earth and sense, Our heaven is begun." HYMN IX. Joy to the followers of the Lord ! Thus saith the sure, the eternal word ; Not of earth the joy it brings, Temper'd in celestial springs : 'Tis the joy of pardon'd sin, When conscience cries, 'Tis well within : 'Tis the joy that fills the breast When the passions sink to rest : 'Tis the joy that seated deep. Leaves not when we sigh and weep ; It spreads itself in virtuous deeds, With sorrow sighs, in pity bleeds. Stem and awful are its tones When the patriot martyr groans. And the throbbing pulse beats high To rapture mix'd with agony. A tenderer, softer form it wears, Dissolved in love, dissolved in tears. When humble souls a Saviour greet. And sinners clasp the mercy seat 'Tis joy e'en here ! a budding flower. Struggling with snows and storm and shower, And waits the moment to expand, Transplanted to its native land. HYMN X. A PASTORAL HYMN. " Gentle pilgrim, tell me why Dost thou fold thine arms and sigh, And wistful cast thine eyes around ?— Whither, pilgrim, art thou bound ?" "The road to Zion's gates I seek; If thou canst inform me, speak." " Keep yon right-hand path with care. Though crags obstruct, and brambles tear ; You just discern a narrow track,— Enter there and turn not back." " Say where that pleasant pathway leads, Winding down yon flowery meads ? Songs and dance the way beguiles. Every face is drest in smiles." " Shun with care that flowery way ; 'Twill lead thee, pilgrim, far astray." " Guide or counsel do I need ?" " Pilgrim, he who runs may read." " Is the way that I must keep, Cross'd by waters wide and deep ?" " Did it lead through flood and fire. Thou must not stop— thou must not tire. " Till I have my journey past. Tell me will the daylight last ? Will the sky be bright and clear Till the evening shades appear ?" " Though the sun now rides so high, Clouds may veil the evening sky ; Fast sinks the sun, fast wears the day. Thou must not stop, thou must not stay : God speed thee, pilgrim, on thy way !" SIR WILLIAM JONES. William Jones, the son of an eminent mathe- matician, was bom in London, in the year 1746. Losing his father, when only three years of age, he was left to the entire care of his mother, a woman of strong mind and good sense, and from whom he imbibed an early taste for literature. In 1753, he was sent to Harrow School, where he soon attract- ed the attention of the masters, and the admiration of his associates, by his extraordinary diligence and superior talents. Among his school fellows were Dr. Parr, and Bennett, afterwards Bishop of Cloyne, who, in speaking of young Jones, at the age eight or nine, says, he was even then " an un- common boy." Describing his subsequent progress at Harrow, he says, " great abilities, great particu- larity of thinkmg, fondness for writing verses and plays of various kinds, and a degree of integrity and manly courage, distinguished him even at that period. 1 loved him and revered him, and, though one or two years older than he was, was always instructed by him from my earliest age." Such was his devotion to study, that he used to pass whole nights over his books, until his eyesight became affected ; and Dr. Thackeray, the master of Har- row, said, " so active was the mind of Jones, that if he were left, naked and friendless, on Salisbury Plain, he would, nevertheless, find the road to fame and riches." In 1764, he was entered at University College, Oxibrd, in opposition to the wishes of his friends, who advised his mother to place him under the superintendence of some special pleader, as at that early age he had made such a voluntary progress in legal acquirements, as to be able to put cases ftom an abridgement of Coke's Institutes. At the university, instead of confining himself to the usual discipline, he continued the course of classi- cal reading which he had commenced at Harrow, and devoted a considerable portion of his time to the study of the oriental languages. During his vacations, which he generally spent in London, he learnt riding and fencing ; and at home he occu- pied himself in the perusal of the best Italian, Spanish, French, and Portuguese authors. In 1765, he became private tutor to Lord Althorp, the son of Earl Spencer ; and shortly afterwards he was elect- ed fellow on the foundation of Sir Simon Bennett. In 1767, he accompanied the Spencer family to Germany ; and whilst at Spa, he learnt dancing, the broad-sword exercise, music, besides the art of playing on the Welsh harp ; " thus," to transcribe an observation of his own, " with the fortune of a peasant, giving himself the education of a prince." On his return, he resided with his pupil at Harrow, and, during his abode there, he trans- lated into French the life of Nadir Shah from the Persian, at the request of the King of Denmark, After making another tour, he gave up his tutor- ship, and, in September, 1770, entered himself a student of the Temple, for the purpose of studying for the bar. He took this step in compliance with the earnest solicitations of his friends. "Their advice," he says, in a letter to his friend Reviczki, " was conformable to my own inclinations ; for the only road to the highest stations in this country, is that of the law ; and I need not add how ambitious and laborious I am." The mode in which lie occupied himself in chambers is best described by his own pen, in a letter to his friend, Dr. Bennett ; — " I have learned so much," he says, " seen so much, written so much, said so much, and thought so much, since I conversed with you, that were I lo attempt to tell half what I have learned, seen, writ, said, and thought, my letter would have no end. I spend the whole winter in attending the public speeches of our greatest lawyers and sena- tors, and in studying our own admirable laws. I give up my leisure hours to a Political Treatise on the Turks, from which I expect some reputation ; and I have several objects of ambition which I cannot trust to letter, but will impart to you when we meet." In the midst of all these engagements he found time to attend Dr. William Hunter's lec- tures on anatomy, and to read Newton's Principia : and in 1772, he published a collection of poems, consisting, principally, of translations from the Asiatic languages. In the same year he was elect- ed a fellow of the Royal Society; and, in 1774, appeared his celebrated commentaries De Poesi Asiatica, which procured him great reputation both at home and abroad. Being now called to the bar, he suspended all literary pursuits, and devoted himself, with intense earnestness, to the study of his profession. In 1775, he became a regular attendant at Westmin- ster Hall, and went the circuit and sessions at Oxford ; and in the following year he was, without solicitation, made a commissioner of bankrupt, by Lord-chancellor Bathurst. It would seem, from the correspondence of our author, that soon after his call to the bar, he acquired considerable practice, as he says, in a letter to Mr. Schultens, dated July, 1777, "My law employments, attendance in the courts, incessant studies, the arrangement of plead- ings, trials of causes, and opinions to clients, scarcely allow me a few moments for eating and sleeping." In 1778, he published his translation of the Orations of Isseus, with a Prefatory Dis- course, Notes, and Commentary, which displayed profound critical and historical research, and ex- cited much admiration. In March 1780, he pub- lished a Latin Ode in favour of American freedom ; 52 SIR WILLIAM JONES. 53 and, shortly afterwards, on the resignation of Sir Roger Newdigate, he was induced to become a candidate for the representation of the University of Oxford ; but the liberality of his political prin- ciples rendering his success hopeless, he declined a poll. The tumults of this year induced him to write a pamphlet, entitled, An Inquiry into the Legal Mode of suppressing Riots, with a Constitu- tional Plan of Future Defence ; and about the same period he published his celebrated essay on the Law of Bailments, in which he treated his subject, says Mr. Roscoe, with an accuracy of method hitherto seldom exhibited by our legal writers. In 1782, he spoke at a public meeting in lavour of parliamentary reform, and also became a member of the Society for Contitutional Reform- ation. In a letter to the Dean of St. Asaph, this year, he says it is " his wish to become as great a lawyer as Sulpicius ;" and hints at giving up politics, to the resignation of which he was the more inclined in consequence of a bill of indict- ment being preferred against the divine above- mentioned, for publishing a tract, composed by Jones, entitled, A Dialogue between a Farmer and a Country Gentleman, on the Principles of Govern- ment. Of this our author immediately avowed himself the writer, by a letter addressed to Lord Kenyon, in which he defended his positions, and contended that they were conformable to the laws of England. His political principles had for some time pre- vented him obtaining the grand object of his am- bition, — an Indian judge-ship; but he was at length, in March, 1783, appointed judge of the Supreme Court of Judicature in Bengal, through the influence of Lord Ashburton. Previous to his departure he received the honour of knighthood, and married Miss Shipley, daughter to the Bishop of St. Asaph, with whom he arrived in Calcutta, in September, and entered upon his judicial functions in the following December. Law, literature, and philosophy, now engrossed his attention to such a degree, that his health, on which the climate also had a prejudicial influence, was quickly impaired. In a letter to Dr. Patrick Russell, dated March, 1784, he says, " I do not expect, as long as I stay in India, to be free from a bad digestion, the morbus literatorum, for which there is hardly any remedy but abstinence from too much food, literary and culinary. I rise before the sun, and bathe after a gentle ride ; my diet is light and sparing, and I go early to rest ; yet the activity of my mind is too strong for my constitution, though naturally not infirm, and I must be satisfied with a valetudina- rian state of health." Soon after his arrival he projected the scheme of the Asiatic Society, of which he became the first president, and contri- buted many papers to its memoirs. With a view to rendering himself a proficient in the science of Sanscrit and Hindoo laws, he studied the Sanscrit and Arabic languages with great ardour; and whilst on a tour through the district of Benares, for the recovery of his health, he composed a tale, in verse, called The Enchanted Fruit, and A Trea- tise on the Gods of Greece, Italy, and India. In 1790, he appears to have received an ofl^er of some augmentation of his salary, as, in a letter of that year to Sir James Macpherson, he says, " Really I want no addition to my fortune, which is enough for me ; and if the whole legislature of Britain were to offer me a station different from that I now fill, I should most gratefully and respectfully de- cline it." He continued, with indefatigable zeal, his compilation of the Hindoo and Mahometan Digest ; on the completion of which he was to have followed his wife to England, who had pro- ceeded thither, for the recovery of her health, in the December of 1793. This intention, however, he did not live to carry into effect, being shortly afterwards attacked with an inflammation of the liver, which terminated his existence on the 27rh of April, 1794. His epitaph, written by himself, is equally admirable for its truth and its elegance. Here was deposited the mortal part of a man who feared God, but not death ; and maintained independence, but sought not riches ; who thought none below him but the base and unjust ; none above him but the wise and virtuous; vpho loved his parents, kindred, friends, and country ; and having devoted his life to their service, and the improvement of his mind, resigned it calmly, giving glory to his Creator, wishing peace on earth, and good will to all his creatures. His character was, indeed, truly estimable in every respect. " To exquisite taste and learning quite unparalleled," says Dr. Parr, " Sir William Jones is known to have united the most benevolent temper, and the purest morals." His whole life was one unceasing struggle for the interests of his fellow creatures, and, unconnected with this object, he knew no ambition. He was a sincere aad pious Christian ; and in one of his latest discourses to the Asiatic Society, he has done more to give validity to the Mosaic account of the creation, than the researches of any contemporary writers. His acquirements as a linguist were absolutely wonderful : he understood, critically, English, Latin, French, Italian, Greek, Arabic, Persian, and Sanscrit ; he could translate, with the aid of a dictionary, the Spanish, Portuguese, German, Ru- nic, Hebrew, Bengalee, Hindoo, and Turkish ; and he had bestowed considerable attention on the Russian, Swedish, Coptic, Welsh, Chinese, Dutch, Syriac, and several other languages. In addition to his vast stock of literary information, he pos- sessed extensive legal knowledge ; and, as far as we may judge from his translations, had sufiicient capacity and taste for a first-rate original poet. His indefatigable application and industry have, perhaps, never been equalled ; even when in ill- health he rose at three in the morning, and what were called his hours of relaxation, were devoted to studies, which would have appalled the most vigorous minds. In 1799, his widow published a splendid edition of his works, in six volumes, folio, and placed, at her own expense, a marble statue of him, executed by Flaxman, in the anti-chamber of University College, Oxford ; and, among other public testimonies of respect to his memory, the directors of the East India Company voted him a monument in St. Paul's Cathedral, and a statue in Bengal. E 2 54 SIR WILLIAM JONES. CAISSA: on, THE GAME OF CHESS. ADVERTISEMENT. The first idea of the following piece was taken from a Latin poem of Vida, entitled Scacchia Ludus, which was translated into Italian by Marino, and inserted in the fifteenth canto of his Adonis : the author thought it fair to make an acknowledgment, in the notes, for the pas- sages which he borrowed from those two poets ; but he must also do them the justice to declare, that most of the descriptions, and the whole story of Caissa, which is written in imitation of Ovid, are his own ; and their faults must be imputed to him only. The characters in the poem are no less imaginary than those in the episode ; in which the invention of chess is poetically ascribed to Mars, though it is certain that the game was originally brought from India. Of armies on the chequer'd field array'd,* And guiltless war in pleasing form display'd ; When two bold kings contend with vain alarms, In ivory this, and that in ebon arms ; Sing, sportive maids, that haunt the sacred hill Of Pindus, and the famed Pierian rill, t Thou, joy of all below, and all above, Mild Venus, queen of laughter, queen of love : Leave thy bright island, where on many a rose And many a pink thy blooming train repose ; Assist me, goddess ! since a lovely pair Command my song, like thee divinely fair. Near yon cool stream, whose living waters play, And rise translucent, in the solar ray ; Beneath the covert of a fragrant bower, Where Spring's soft influence purpled every flower ; Two smiling nymphs reclined in calm retreat, And envying blossoms crowded round their seat ; Here, Delia was enthroned, and by her side The sweet Sirena ; both in beauty's pride : Thus shine two roses, fresh with early bloom. That from their native stalk dispense perfume ; Their leaves unfolding to the dawning day, Gems of the glowing mead, and eyes of May. A band of youths and damsels sat around. Their flowing locks with braided myrtle bound ; Agatis, in the graceful dance admired, And gentle Thyrsis, by the muse inspired : With Sylvia, fairest of the mirthful train ; And Daphnis, doom'd to love, yet love in vain. Now, whilst a purer blush o'erspreads her cheeks. With soothing accents thus Sirena speaks : " The meads and lawns are tinged with beamy light. And wakeful larks begin their vocal flight ; Whilst on each bank the dew-drops sweetly smile ; What sport, my Delia, shall the hours beguile ? Shall heavenly notes, prolong'd with various art. Charm the fond ear, and warm the rapturous heart? At distance shall we view the sylvan chase ; Or catch with silken lines the finny race ?" IMITATIONS. * Ludimus efBgiem belli, simulataque veris PrcEha, buxo acies fictas, et ludicra regna : Ut gemini inter se reges, albusque nigerque. Pro laude oppositi certent bicoloribus armis, Dicite, Seriades Nymphee, certamina tanta. Vida. t .JIneadum genitrix, hominum divumque voluptas, Alma Venus ! &c. Lucretius. Then Delia thus : " Or rather, since we meet By chance, assembled in this cool retreat, In artful contest let our warlike train Move, well-directed, o'er the colour'd plain ; Daphnis, who taught us first, the play shall guide ; Explain its laws, and o'er the field preside: No prize we need, our ardour to inflame ; We fight with pleasure, if we fight for fame." The nymph consents : the maids and youths prepare To view the combat, and the sport to share ; But Daphnis most approved the bold design, Whom love instructed, and the tuneful Nine. He rose, and on the cedar table placed A polish'd board, with diflferent colours graced ; Squares eight times eight in equal order lie ;* These bright as snow, those dark with sable dye ; Like the broad target by the tortoise borne, Or like the hide by spotted panthers worn. Then from a chest, with harmless heroes stored, O'er the smooth plain two well-wrought hosts he pour'd ; The champions bum'd their rivals to assail, Twice eight in black, twice eight in milk-white mail ;t In shape and station different, as in name, Their motions various, nor their power the same. Say, muse ! ( for Jove has naught from thee conceal'd,) Who form'd the legions on the level field ? High in the midst the reverend kings appear, And o'er the rest their pearly sceptres rear : One solemn step, majestically slow. They gravely move, and shun the dangerous foe ; If e'er they call, the watchful subjects spring. And die with rapture, if they save their king ; On him the glory of the day depends. He, once imprison'd, all the conflict ends. The queens exulting near their consorts stand ; Each bears a deadly falchion in her hand ; Now here, now there, they bound with furious pride, And thin the trembling ranks from side to side ; Swift as Camilla flying o'er the main. Or lightly skimming o'er the dewy plain : Fierce as they seem, some bold plebeian spear May pierce their shield, or stop their full career. The valiant guards, their minds on havoc bent, Fill the next squares, and watch the royal tent ; Though weak their spears, though dwarfish be their height, Compact they move, the bulwark of the fight.t IMITATIONS. * Sexaginta insunt et quatuor ordine sedes Octono ; parte ex omni, via limite quadrat Ordinibus paribus; necnon forma omnibus una Sedibus, aequale et spatium, sed non color unus : Alternant semper variae. subeuntque vicissim Albentes nigris ; testudo picta superne Qualia devexo gestat discrimina tergo. Vida. 1 Agmina bina pari nuraeroque, et viribusaequis, Bis nivoa cum veste octo, totidemque nigranti. Ut variaj facies, pariter sunt et sua cuique Nomina, diversum munus, non sequa potestas. ibid. I The chief art in the tactics of chess consists in the nice conduct of the royal pawns; in supporting them against every attack ; and, if they are taken, in supplying their places with others equally supported ; a principle, C A I S S A. 55 To right, and left the martial wings display Their shining arms, and stand in close array. Behold ! four archers, eager to advance, Send the light reed, and rush with sidelong glance ; Through angles, ever, they assault the foes, True to the colour, which at first they chose. Thenfourbold knights,for courage famed and speed, Each knight exalted on a prancing steed : Their arching course no vulgar limit knows,* Transverse they leap, and aim insidious blows. Nor friends, nor foes, their rapid force restrain, By one quick bound two changing squares they gain; From varymg hues renew the fierce attack. And rush from black to white, from white to black. Four solemn elephants the sides defend ; Beneath the load of ponderous towers they bend : In one unalter'd line they tempt the fight ; Now crush the left, and now o'erwhelm the right. Bright in the front the dauntless soldiers raise Their polish'd spears ; their steely helmets blaze : Prepared they stand the daring foe to strike. Direct their progress, but their wounds oblique. Now swell th' embattled troops with hostile rage, A nd clang their shields, impatient to engage ; When Daphnis thus : " A varied plain behold. Where fairy kings their mimic tents unfold. As Oberon, and Mab, his wayward queen, Lead forth their armies on the daisied green. No mortal had the wondrous sport contrived. By gods invented, and from gods derived ; From them the British nymphs received the game,(t) And play each morn beneath the crystal Thame ; Hear then the tale, which they to Colin sung, As idling o'er the lucid wave he hung : — " ' A lovely Dryad ranged the Thracian wild, Her air enchanting and her aspect mild ; To chase the bounding hart was all her joy Averse from Hymen, and the Cyprian boy ; O'er hills and valleys was her beauty famed. And fair Cai'ssa was the damsel named. Mars saw the maid ; with deep surprise he gazed. Admired her shape, and every gesture praised : His golden bow the child of Venus bent, And through his breast a piercing arrow sent : The reed was Hope ; the feathers, keen Desire ; The point, her eyes ; the barbs, ethereal fire. Soon to the nymph he pour'd his tender strain ,• The haughty Dryad scom'd his amorous pain : He told his woes, where'er the maid he found. And still he press'd, yet still Cai'ssa frown'd ; on which the success of the game in great measure depends, though it seems to be omitted by the very accu- rate Vida. , IMITATIONS. ' n cavallo leggier per dritta lista, Come gli altri, parringo unqua non fende, Ma la lizza attraversa, e fiero in vista Curvo in giro, e lunato il salto stende, E sempre nel saltar due case acquista, Quel colore abbandona, e questo prende. Marino, Adone. 15. t Quae quondam sub aquis gaudent spectacla tueri Nereides, vastique omnis gens accola ponti; Siquando placidum mare, et humida regna quierunt. Vida But e'en her frowns (ah, what might smiles have done !) Fired all his soul, and all his senses won. He left his car, by raging tigers drawn. And lonely wander'd o'er the dusky lawn ; Then lay desponding near a murmuring stream, And fair Cai'ssa was his plaintive theme. A Naiad heard him from her mossy bed. And through the crystal raised her placid head Then mildly spake : " O thou whom love inspires, Thy tears will nourish, not allay thy fires. The smiling blossoms drink the pearly dew ; And ripening fruit the feather'd race pursue ; The scaly shoals devour the silken weeds ! Love on our sighs, and on our sorrow feeds. Then weep no more ; but, ere thou canst obtain Balm for thy wounds and solace to thy pain. With gentle art thy martial look beguile ; Be mild, and teach thy rugged brow to smile. Canst thou no pJay, no soothing game devise. To make thee lovely in the damsel's eyes ? So may thy prayers assuage the scornful dame. And ev'n Cai'ssa own a mutual flame." " Kind nymph, (said Mars,) thy counsel I approve; Art, only art, her ruthless breast can move. But when ? or how? Thy dark discourse explain: So may thy stream ne'er swell with gushing rain ; So may thy waves in one pure current flow. And flowers eternal on thy border blow !" " ' To whom the maid replied with smiling mien: " Above the palace of the Paphian queen Love's brother dwells, a boy of graceful port. By gods named Euphron. and by mortals Sport ; Seek him ; to faithful ears unfold thy grief. And hope, ere morn return, a sweet relief. His temple hangs below the azure skies ; Seest thou yon argent cloud ? 'Tis there it lies." This said, she sunk beneath the liquid plain, And sought the mansion of her blue-hair'd train. " ' Meantime the god, elate with heart-felt joy, Had reach'd the temple of the sportful boy ; He told Cai'ssa's charms, his kindred fire. The Naiad's counsel, and his warm desire. " Be swift, (he added) give my passion aid ; A god requests." — He spake, and Sport obey'd. He framed a tablet of celestial mould. Inlaid with squares of silver and of gold ; Then of two metals form'd the warlike band, That here, compact, in show of battle stand ; He taught the rules that guide the pensive game. And call'd it Cassa from the Dryad's name : CWhence Albion's sons, who most its praise con- fess, Approved the play, and named it thoughtful Chess.) The god, delighted, thank'd indulgent Sport ; Then grasp'd the board, and left his airy court. With radiant feet he pierced the clouds ; nor stay'd. Till in the woods he saw the beauteous maid. Tired with the chase the damsel sat reclined. Her girdle loose, her bosom unconfined. He took the figure of a wanton fatui, And stood before her on the flowery lawn ; * Ecco d'astuto ingegno, e pronta mano Garzon, che sempre scherza, e vola ratto, Gioco s'apella, ed e d'amor germano. Marino, Adone. 15. 56 SIR WILLIAM JONES. Then show'd his tablet ; pleased, the nymph sur- vey'd The lifeless troops, in glittering ranks display'd ; She ask'd the wily sylvan to explain The various motions of the splendid train ; With eager heart she caught the winning lore, And thought e'en Mars less hateful than before : " What spell (said she) deceived my careless mind ? The god was fair, and I was most unkind." She spoke, and saw the changing faun assume A milder aspect, and a fairer bloom; His wreathing horns, that from his temples grew, Flow'd down in curls of bright celestial hue ; The dappled hairs, that veil'd his loveless face, Blazed into beams, and show'd a heavenly grace ; The shaggy hide, that mantled o'er his breast, Was soften'd to a smooth transparent vest, That through its folds his vigorous bosom sliow'd, And nervous limbs, where youthful ardour glow'd: (Had Venus view'd him in those blooming charms Not Vulcan's net had forced her from his arms.) Vv^ith goatlike feet no more he mark'd the ground. But braided flow'ers his silken sandals bound. The Dryad blush'd ; and, as he press'd her, smiled. Whilst all his cares one tender glance beguiled." He ends : To arms, the maids and striplings cry ; To arms, the groves and sounding vales reply. Sirena led to war the swarthy crew. And Delia those that bore the lily's hue. Who first, O muse, began the bold attack ; The white refulgent, or the mournful black? Fair Delia first, as favouring lots ordain, iVIoves her pale legions toward the sable train : From thought to thought her lively fancy flies. Whilst o'er the board she darts her sparkling eyes. At length the warrior moves with haughty strides ; Who from the plain the snowy king divides ; With equal haste his swarthy rival bounds ; His quiver rattles, and his buckler sounds : Ah! hapless youths, with fatal warmth you burn; Laws, ever fix'd, forbid you to return. Then from the wing a short-lived spearman flies, Unsafely bold, and see I he dies, he dies : The dark-brow'd hero, with one vengeful blow, Of life and place deprives his ivory foe. Now rush both armies o'er the burnish'd field. Hurl the swift darf, and rend the bursting shield. Here furious knights on fiery coursers prance. Here archers spring, and lofty towers advance. But see ! the white-robed Amazon beholds Where the dark host its opening van unfolds : Soon as her eye discerns the hostile maid. By ebon shield, and ebon helm betray'd : Seven squares she passes with majestic mien. And stands triumphant o'er the falling queen, Perplex'd, and sorrowing at his consort's fate, The monarch burn'd with rage, despair, and hate ; Swift from his zone th' avenging blade he drew. And, mad with ire, the proud virago slew. Meanwhile, sweet smiling Delia's wary king Retired from fight behind his circling wing. Long time the war in equal balance hung ; Till, unforeseen, an ivory courser sprung. And, wildly prancing, in an evil hour, Attack'd at once the monarch and the tower : Sirena blush'd, for, as the rules required. Her injured sovereign to his tent retired ; Whilst her lost castle leaves his threatening height. And adds new glory to th' exulting knight. At this, pale fear oppress'd the drooping maid, And on her cheek the rose began to fade : A crystal tear, that stood prepared to fall. She wiped in silence, and conceal'd from all ; From all but Daphnis : he remark'd her pain, And saw the weakness of her ebon train ; \ Then gently spoke : " Let me your loss supply, And either nobly win, or nobly die ; Me oft has fortune crown'd with fair success, And led to triumph in the fields of chess." He said : the willing nymph her place resign'd, And sat at distance on the bank reclined. Thus, when Minerva call'd her chief to arms. And Troy's high turret shook with dire alarms, The Cyprian goddess, wounded, left the plain. And Mars engaged a mightier force in vain. Straight Daphnis leads his squadron to the field ; (To Delia's arms 'tis e'en a joy to yield.) Each guileful snare and subtle art he tries, But finds his art less powerful than her eyes ; Wisdom and strength superior charms obey : And beauty, beauty, wins the long-fought day. By this — a hoary chief, on slaughter bent, Approach'd the gloomy king's unguarded tent: Where, late, his consort spread dismay around. Now her dark corse lies bleeding on the ground. Hail, happy youth I thy glories not unsung Shall live eternal on the poet's tongue ; For thou shall soon receive a splendid change. And o'er the plain with nobler fury range. The swarthy leaders saw the storm impend. And strove in vain their sovereign to defend : Th' invader waved his silver lance in air, And flew like lightning to the fatal square ; His limbs, dilated, in a moment grew To stately height, and widen'd to the view ; More fierce his look, more lion-like his mien. Sublime he moved, and seem'd a warrior queen. As when the sage on some unfolding plant Has caught a wondering fly, or frugal ant. His hand the microscopic frame applies, And lo ! a bright-hair'd monster meets his eyes ; He sees new plumes in slender cases roll'd Here stain'd with azure, there bedropp'd with gold ; Thus, on the alter'd chief both armies gaze. And both the kings are fix'd with deep amaze. The sword, which arm'd the snow-white maid before, He now assumes, and hurls the spear no more ; Then springs indignant on the dark-robed band, And knights and archers feel his deadly hand. Now flies the monarch of the sable shield. His legions vanquish'd, o'er the lonely field. So when the morn, by rosy coursers drawn,* With pearls and rubies sows the verdant lawn, Whilst each pale star from heaven's blue vault retires. Still Venus gleams, and last of all expires. IMITATIONS. * Medio rex eequore inermis Constitit amissis sociis : velut Eethere in alio Expulit ardentes flammas ubi lutea bigis Luciferis Aurora, tuus pulcherrimus ignis Lucet adhuc, Venus, et coelo mox ultimus exit. Vida, ver. 604. SOLIMA. 57 He hears, where'er he moves, the dreadful sound ; Check the deep vales, and Check the woods rebound : — No place remains : he sees the certain fate, And yields his throne to ruin, and check-mate. A brighter blush o'erspreads the damsel's cheeks. And mildly thus the conquer'd stripling speaks: "A double triumph, Delia, hast thou won, By Mars protected, and by Venus' son ; The first with conquest crowns thy matchless art, The second points those eyes at Daplmis' heart." She smiled ; the nymphs and amorous youths arise. And own, that Beauty gain'd the nobler prize. Low in their chest the mimic troops were laid, And peaceful slept the sable hero's shade.* SOLIMA. AN ARABIAN ECLOGITE. " Ye maids of Aden ! hear a loftier tale Than e'er was sung in meadow, bower, or dale. — The smiles of Abelah, and iVlaia's eyes. Where beauty plays, and love in slumber lies ; The fragrant hyacinths of Azza's hair. That wanton with the laughing summer-air ; Love-tinctured cheeks, whence roses seek their bloom. And lips, from which the zephyr steals perfume ; Invite no more the wild unpolish'd lay. But fly like dreams before the morning ray. Then farewell, love ! and farewell, youthful fires! A nobler warmth my kindled breast inspires. Far bolder notes the listening woods shall fill ; Flow smooth, ye rivulets ; and, ye gales, be still. " See yon fair groves that o'er Amana rise. And with their spicy breath embalm the skies ; Where every breeze sheds incense o'er the vales. And every shrub the scent of musk exhales ! See through yon opening glade a glittering scene. Lawns ever gay, and meadows ever green ; Then ask the groves, and ask the vocal bowers. Who deck'd their spiry tops with blooming flowers. Taught the blue stream o'er sandy vales to flow. And the brown wild with liveliest hues to glow? Fair Solima ! the hills and dales will sing ; Fair Solima ! the distant echoes ring.t But not with idle shows of vain delight. To charm the soul or to beguile the sight ; At noon on banks of pleasure to repose. Where bloom entwined the lily, pink, and rose ; Not in proud piles to heap the nightly feast, Till mom with pearls has deck'd the glowing east ; Ah .' not for this she taught those bowers to rise. And bade all Eden spring before our eyes : Far other thoughts her heavenly mind employ (Hence, empty pride ! and hence, delusive joy I) To cheer with sweet repast the fainting guest ; To lull the weary on the couch of rest ; * A parody of the last line in Pope's translation of the Iliad : "And peaceful slept the mighty Hector's shade." t It was not easy in this part of the translation to avoid a turn similar to that of Pope in the known de- Bcriptionof the Man of Ross. 8 To warm the traveller numb'd with winter's cold ; The young to cherish, to support the old ; The sad to comfort, and the weak protect ; The poor to shelter, and the lost direct : — These are her cares, and this her glorious task ,• Can Heaven a nobler give, or mortals ask ? Come to these groves, and these life-breathing Ye friendless orphans, and ye dowerless maids ; With eager haste your mournful mansions leave. Ye weak, that tremble ; and, ye sick, that grieve : Here shall soft tents, o'er flowery lawns display'd, At night defend you, and at noon o'ershade ; Here rosy healtli the sweets of life will shower. And new delights beguile each varied hour. iVIourns there a widow, bathed in streaming tears ? Stoops there a sire beneath the weight of years ? Weeps there a maid, in pining sadness left, Of tender parents and of hope bereft ? To Solima their sorrows they bewail ; To Solima they pour their plaintive tale. She hears ; and, radiant as the star of day, Through the thick forest gains her easy way ; She asks what cares the joyless train oppress. What siclmess wastes them, or what wants distress, And, as they mourn, she steals a tender sigh, Whilst all her soul sits melting in her eye : Then with a smile the healing balm bestows, And sheds a tear of pity o'er their woes, Which, as it drops, some soft-eyed angel bears Transform'd to pearl, and in his bosom wears. " When chill'd with fear, the trembling pilgrim roves [groves. Through pathless deserts and through tangled Where mantling darkness spreads her dragon wing, And birds of death their fatal dirges sing. While vapours pale a dreadful glimmering cast, And thrilling horror howls in every blast ; She cheers his gloom with streams of bursting light. By day a sun, a beaming moon by night ; [ray, Darts through the quivering shades her heavenly And spreads with rising flowers his solitary way. " Ye heavens, for this in showers of sweetness shed Your mildest influence o'er her favour'd head ! Long may her name, which distant climes shall praise. Live in our notes, and blossom in our lays ! And, like an odorous plant, whose blushing flower Paints every dale, and sweetens every bower. Borne to the skies in clouds of soft perfume For ever flourish, and for ever bloom ! These grateful songs, ye maids and youths, renew, While fresh blown violets drink the pearly'dew ; O'er Azib's banks while love-lorn damsels rove, And gales of fragrance breathe from Ilagar's grove." So sung the youth, whose sweetly-warbled strains Fair Mena heard, and Saba's spicy plains. Sooth'd with his lay, the ravish'd air was calm. The winds scarce whisper'd o'er the waving palm; The camels bounded o'er the flowery lawn. Like the swift ostrich, or the sportful fawn ; Their silken bands the listening rose-buds rent, And twined their blossoms round his vocal tent : He sung, till on the bank the moonlight slept. And closing flowers beneath the night-dew wept ; 58 SIR WILLIAM JONES. Then ceased, and slumber'd in the lap of rest Till the shrill lark had left his low-built nest. Now hastes the swain to tune his rapturous tales In other meadows, and in other vales. AN ODE IN IMITATION OF ALC^US. Ov Xidoi, uSe lv\a, vSe Tsxvjy TCKTOVMv al -KoXeis simv AXX' OTTs ttot' av wmv ANAPE2 Airy; aco^eiv siJotej, Evravda rctxv Kai ttoXcis. Ale. quoted by Aristides. What constitutes a state ? Not high-raised battlement or labour'd mound. Thick wall or moated gate ; Not cities proud with spires and turrets crown'd ; Not bays and broad-arm'd ports, Where, laughing at the storm, rich navies ride ; Not starr'd and spangled courts, Where low-brow'd baseness wafts perfume to pride. NO : — Men, high-minded men. With powers as far above dull brutes endued In forest, brake, or den. As beasts excel cold rocks and brambles rude ; Men, who their duties know, But know their rights, and knowing, dare maintain. Prevent the long-aim'd blow. And crush the tyrant while they rend the chain : These constitute a state ; And sovereign law, that state's collected will, O'er thrones and globes elate Sits empress, crowning good, repressing ill : Smit by her sacred frown The fiend, discretion, like a vapour sinks. And e'en th' all dazzling crown Hides his faint rays, and at her bidding shrinks. Such was this heaven-loved isle, Than Lesbos fairer and the Cretan shore ! No more shall freedom smile ? Shall Britons languish, and be men no more ? Since all must life resign. Those sweet rewards, which decorate the brave, 'Tis folly to decline. And steal inglorious to the silent grave. Abergavenny, March 31, 1781. AN ODE IN IMITATION OF CALLIS- TRATUS. Ev ti^vpTU KXaSi TO ^Kjios (pQpriaoi, Slunep ApixoSws k' ApiroyciTUV, Ore Tov Tvpavvov Kravcrav laovoiiKS T Adriva; enoiriaaTriv. K. T. X. Quod si post Idus illias Martias e Tyrannoctonis quis- piam tale aliquod carmen plebi tradidisset inque Suburram et fori circulos et in ora vulgi intulisset, actum profecto fuisset de partibus deque dominatione Ceesarum; plus mehercule valuisset unum Apjioha neXoi quam Ciceronis Philippicae omaea.—LoMth De Sacra Poesi, Prml.l. Verdant myrtle's branchy pride Shall my biting falchion wreathe ; Soon shall grace each manly side Tubes that speak, and points that breathe. Thus, Harmodius ! shone thy blade ; Thus, Aristogiton ! thine : Whose, when Britain sighs for aid. Whose shall now delay to shine ? Dearest youths, in islands bless'd. Not, like recreant idlers dead, You with fleet Pelides rest. And with godlike Diomed. Verdant myrtle's branchy pride Shall my thirsty blade entwine : Such, Harmodius ! deck'd thy side ; Such, Aristogiton ! thine. They the base Hipparchus slew At the feast of Pallas crown'd : Gods ! — how swift their poniards flew . How the monster tinged the ground ! Then in Athens all was peace, Equal laws and liberty : Nurse of arts, and age of Greece ! People valiant, firm, and free ! Not less glorious was thy deed, Wentworth ! fix'd in virtue's cause ; Not less brilliant be thy meed, Lenox ! friend to equal laws. High in freedom's temple raised. See Fitz-Maurice beaming stand. For collected virtues praised. Wisdom's voice, and Valour's hand ! Ne'er shall Fate their eyelids close : They, in blooming regions bless'd, With Harmodius shall repose : With Aristogiton rest. No, bless'd chiefs ! a hero's crown Let th' Athenian patriots claim : You less fiercely won renown ; You assumed a milder name. They through blood for glory strove. You more blissful tidings brings : They to death a tyrant drove. You to fame restored a king. Rise, Britannia ! dauntless rise ! Cheer'd with triple harmony. Monarch good, and nobles wise People valiant, firm, and free ' THE FIRST NEMEAN ODE OF PINDAR.* Calm breathing-place of Alpheus dead, Ortygia, graceful branch of Syracuse renown'd, Young Dina's rosy bed. Sister of Delos, thee, with sweet, yet lofty, sound Bursting numbers call, to raise Of tempest-footed steeds the trophies glorious (Thus Etnean Jove we praise ;) While Chromius' car invites, and Nemea's plain. For nohle acts victorious To weave the encomiastic strain. From prospering gods the song begins ; Next hails that godlike man and virtue's holy meeds: »This ode is translated word for word with the original ; those epithets and phrases only being necessarily added, which are printed in italic letters. See Argument of the Hymns to Pacriti. ODES. 59 He the flower of greatness wins, Whom smiling fortune crowns; and vast heroic deeds Every muse delights to sing. Now wake to that fair isle the splendid story, Which the great Olympian king, Jove, gave to Proserpine, and waved his locks Vowing, that, supreme in glory, Famed for sweet fruits, and nymph-loved rocks, Sicilia's full nutritious breast With tower'd and wealthy cities he would crown. Her the son of Saturn bless'd With suitors brazen-arm'd for war's renown By lance and fiery steed ; yet oft thy leaves, Olympic olive ! bind their hair In wreathy gold. Great subjects I prepare : But none th' immortal verse deceives. Oft in the portals was I placed Of that guest-loving man, and pour'd the dulcet strain, Where becoming dainties graced His hospitable board ; for ne'er with efforts vain Strangers to his mansion came : And thus the virtuous, when detraction rages, Quench with liberal streams her flame. Let each in virtue's path right onward press, As each his art engages, And, urged by genius, win success. Laborious action strength applies, And wary conduct, sense : the future to foresee Nature gives to few, the wise. Agesidamus' son, she frankly gave to thee Powerful might and wisdom deep. 1 see not in dark cells the hoarded treasure Grovelling with low care to keep. But, as wealth flows, to spread it, and to hear Loud fame, with ample measure Cheering my friends, since hope and fear Assail disastrous men. The praise Of Hercules with rapture I embrace On the heights, which virtues raise. The rapid legend old his name shall place ; For, when he brook' d no -more the cheerless gloom, And burst into the blaze of day. The child of Jove with his twin brother lay, Refulgent from the sacred womb. Not unobserved the godlike boy By Juno golden-throned the saffron'd cradle press'd; Straight heaven's queen with furious joy Bade hideous dragons fleet th' unguarded floor infest: They, the portals opening wide, Roll'd through the chamber's broad recess tremen- dous. And in jaws fire-darting tried The slumbering babe to close. He, starting light, Rear'd his bold head stupendous. And first in battle proved his might. With both resistless hands he clasp'd Both struggling horrid pests, and clothed their necks with death ; They expiring, as he grasp'd, Pour'd from their throats compress'd, the foul envenom'd breath. Horror seized the female train. Who near Alcmena's genial couch attended : She, from agonizing pain Yet weak, unsandalVd and unmantled rush'd, And her loved charge defended. Whilst he the fiery monsters crush'd. Swift the Cadmean leaders ran In brazen mail precipitately bold : First Amphitryon, dauntless man, Bared his raised falchion from its sheathing gold. While grinding anguish pierced hisfluttering breast; For private woes most keenly bite Self-loving man ; but soon the heart is light. With sorrow not its own oppress'd. Standing in deep amazement wild With rapturous pleasure mix'd, he saw th* enor- mous force, Saw the valour of his child : And fated heralds prompt, as heaven had shaped their course. Wafted round the varied tale : Then called he from high Jove's contiguous region, Him, whose warnings never fail, Tiresias blind, who told, in diction sage, The chief and thronging legion What fortunes must his boy engage ; What lawless tyrants of the wood. What serpents he would slay, what monsters of the main. What proud foe to human good. The worst of monstrous forms, that holy manhood stain, His huge arm to death would dash : How when heaven's host, o'er Phlegra's champaign hasting. With embattled giants rash Vindictive warr'd, his pondrous mace would storm With dreadful strokes wide-wasting, And dust their glittering locks deform. He told ; and how in blissful peace Through cycles infinite of gliding time. When his mortal task should cease, Sweet prize of perils hard and toil sublime. In gorgeous mansions he should hold entranced Soft Hebe, fresh with blooming grace. And crown, exalting his majestic race. The bridal feast near Jove advanced. A CHINESE ODE, PARAPHRASED. Behold, where yon blue rivulet glides Along the laughing dale ; Light reeds bedeck its verdant sides. And frolic in the gale So shines our prince ! in bright array The virtues round him wait ; And sweetly smiled th' auspicious day, That raised him o'er our state. As pliant hands, in sha|>es refined, Rich ivory carve and smooth. His laws thus mould each ductile mind, And every passion soothe. 60 SIR WILLIAM JONES. As gems are taught by patient art In sparkling ranks to beam, With manners thus he forms the heart, And spreads a general gleam. What soft, yet awful dignity ! What meek, yet manly grace ! What sweetness dances in his eye. And blossoms in his face ! So shines our prince ! A sky-born crowd Of virtues round him blaze : Ne'er shall oblivion's murky cloud Obscure his deathless praise. THE VERBAL TRANSLATION. Behold yon reach of the river Ki ; Its green reeds how luxuriant ! how luxuriant ! Thus is our prince adorn'd with virtues ; As a carver, as a filer of ivory, As a cutter, as a polisher of gems O how elate and sagacious ! O how dauntless and composed ! How worthy of fame ! How worthy of reverence ! We have a prince adorn'd with virtues. Whom to the end of time we cannot forget." A TURKISH ODE OF MESIHI. Hear ! how the nightingales on every spray. Hail, in wild notes, the sweet return of May ; — ^The gale that o'er yon waving almond blows. The verdant bank with silver blossoms strows : The smiling season decks each flowery glade. Be gay : too soon the flowers of spring will fade. + What gales of fragrance scent the vernal air ! Hills, dales, and woods, their loveliest mantles wear. Who knows what cares await that fatal day. When ruder gusts shall banish gentle May ? E'en death, perhaps, our valleys will invade. Be gay : too soon the flowers of spring will fade. JThe tulip now its varied hue displays, And sheds, like Ahmed's eye, celestial rays. Ah, nation ever faithful, ever true. The joys of youth, while May invites, pursue ! Will not these notes your timorous minds persuade? Be gay : too soon the flowers of spring will fade. * The sparkling dew-drops o'er the lilies play. Like orient pearls, or like the beams of day. If love and mirth your wanton thoughts engage. Attend, ye nymphs ! a poet's words are sage ; While thus you sit beneath the trembling shade, Be gay : too soon the flowers of spring will fade. tThe fresh-blown rose like Zeineb's cheek ap- pears. When pearls, like dew-drops, glitter in her ears. The charms of youth at once are seen and past : And nature says, " They are too sweet to last." So blooms the rose ; and so the blushing maid. Be gay : too soon the flowers of spring will fade. X See ! yon anemonies their leaves unfold. With rubies flaming and with living gold. — While crystal showers from weeping clouds de- scend. Enjoy the presence of thy tuneful friend : Now, while the wines are brought, the sofa's laid. Be gay : too soon the flowers of spring will fade. 5 The plants no more are dried, the meadows dead, No more the rose-bud hangs her pensive head : The shrubs revive in valleys, meads, and bowers. And every stalk is diadem'd with flowers ; In silken robes each hillock stands array'd. Be gay : too soon the flowers of spring will fade. II Clear drops, each morn, impearl the rose's bloom. And from its leaf the zephyr drinks perfume ; The dewy buds expand their lucid store : Be this our wealth : ye damsels, ask no more. Though wise men envy, and though fools upbraid. Be gay : too soon the flowers of spring will fade. IT The dew-drops sprinkled, by the musky gale. Are changed to essence ere they reach the dale. The mild blue sky a rich pavilion spreads, Without our labour, o'er our favour'd heads. Let others toil in war, in arts, or trade ; — Be gay : too soon the flowers of spring will fade. IMITATIONS. * " Thou hearest the tale of the nightingale, ' that the vernal season approaches.' The spring has spread a bower of joy in every grove, where the almond tree sheds its silver blossoms. Be cheerful; be full of mirth ; for the spring passes soon away : it will not last." t"The groves and hills are again adorned with all sorts of flowers ; a pavilion of roses, as the seat of plea- sure, is raised in the garden. Who knows which of us will be alive when the fair season ends'? Be cheer- ful," &c. X "The edge of the bower is filled with the light of Ahmed- amon" the plants the fortunate tulips represent his companions. Come, O people of Mohammed ! this is the season of merriment. Be cheerful," &c. IMITATIONS. * " Again the dew glftters on the leaves of the lily, like the water of a bright ciraeter. The dew-drops fall through the air on the garden of roses. Listen to me, listen to me, if thou desirest to be delighted. Be cheer- ful," &c. t "The roses and tulips are like the bright cheeks of beautiful maids, in whose ears the pearls hang like drops of dew. Deceive not thyself, by thinking that these charms will have a long duration. Be cheerful,'' &c. X "Tulips, roses, and anemonies, appear in the gar- dens ; the showers and the sunbeams, hke sharp lancets, tinge the banks with the colour of blood. Spend this day agreeably with thy friends, like a prudent man. Be cheerful," &c. § "The time is passed in which the plants were sick, and the rose-bud hung its thoughtful head on its bosom. The season comes in which mountains and rocks are coloured with tulips. Be cheerful," &c. II " Each morning the clouds shed gems over the rose- garden ; the breath of the gale is full of Tartarian musk. Be not neglectful of thy duty through too great a love of the world. Be cheerful," &c. H " The sweetness of the bower has made the air so fragrant, that the dew, before it falls, is changed into rose- water. The sky spreads a pavihon of bright clouds over the garden. Be cheerful,"