Glass ~P7f Id Book^ DOBELL COLLECTION JtUJL POEMS, WRITTEN LANCHESTEB; BY JOHN HODGSON, Clerk. Tu lucem aspicere audes? tu bos intueri? tu in fcro, tu in urbe 9 tu in civium esse conspectu? — ClCERO. LONDON: PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR, AND SOLD BY LONGMAN, HURST, REES AND ORMEJ AND D. AKENHEAD AND SONS, NEWCASTLE, 1807. H7 205449 '13 PRINTED BY AKENHEAD & SONS. TO T. WHITE, Senior, AND W. T. GREENWELL ; Esquires, THIS VOLUME IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED, BY THEIR FRIEND AND SERVANT, THE AUTHOR. PREFACE. AT a time, when the claim to poetical talent seems no longer to be attributed to innate power, or to any peculiar complexion of the human mind; when the press every day teems with polite and well-finished verse, it may demand an apology to offer to the public a work, trifling and unimportant, as the present volume. And after I have confessed, it is neither from the flattery or the persuasion of my friends, nor from any confidence in the merit of my own perform- ance, that I send it into the world, I hope I may be credited. To say I am entirely unanxious about its favourable reception, would belie my feelings. Authors of every description must be agitated with some ex- 11 PREFACE. pectations of the good opinion of their readers ; and, if I have any motive for publishing this volume, it certainly originated in a desire to draw myself from obscurity into notice. My scheme may be blameable^ and every way unsuccessful. But, when I recollect the pleasure I had in composing these poems, and the hours of sickness and anxiety they have alleviated, I shall never look back with penitence on the time I have bestowed upon them. Dining a residence, at Lanchester, of a little more than two years, my time was chiefly occu- pied in educating the children of the village, and in attending to the duties of an extensive curacy. But my health required some relaxation from professional employment ; and that was chiefly sought for in the society and hospitality of the families in the neighbour- hood, in wandering into the fields, in botanical re- creations, in searching for antiquities about the Roman station, and in occasional attempts at poetry. PREFACE. Ill Woodlands; which has been chosen for the subject of the first poem, is situated near Lan- chester, in the county of Durham, and is the estate of Thomas White, Esq. Prior to the year 1777? it was a wild heath. For improvements in it, according to the Transactions of the Society for the Encouragement of Arts, -&c, Mr White received their gold medal ten times, and their silver medal once. The follow- ing description of it previous to its inclosure, is from Mr White's own report. " The ground of this plot, whilst in a u state of nature, was covered over with ling, fern, " broom and bad grass, and rushes in" the wet places; " the high parts of it very bad land, of a channelly " quality, and not many inches from a grit stone rock : " lower down the hills, the land is of a better quality-, " affording a tolerable depth of soil, but was then u very cold and swampy, for want of draining. The a features of this inclosure are rather gentle than (t bold, inclining from the north and south, down to IV PREFACE. " a narrow valley in the middle, which continues from " east to west, through the adjacent country; over " which a small but petulant trout stream wantonly " meandered in so many ridiculous mazes, as choaked " its own progress, and rendered the whole of this " small valley, containing about eleven acres, of my " best and most sheltered land, almost useless/' — Transact, of the Soc. of Arts &c. vol. 5. p. 10. On the second poem, the notes I have given supersede the necessity of any explanation in my preface ; and the pieces, I have ventured to call odes, are, perhaps, more in want of a sufficient apology for their insertion, than of a history of their com- position. Gateshead, Jime, 1807. WOODLANDS, A POEM. — Aliam atque aliam culturam dulcis agelli Tentabant; fructusque feros mansuescere terra Cernebant indulgendo, blandeque colundo. Lucret. WOODLANDS, O thou, who scatter'st, over weary heads, Sweet drops of mercy, and the dews of rest, Is there, O Sleep, some island of delight; Some paradise of never-fading green, "Where thou and health upon the silver ways Of moonlight walk ? Thy aid, alas ! in vain With sighs and supplications have I sought. A thousand awful recollections fill My soul. Horrors ideal and the guilt Of many a crime, unblotted out in heaven, With starts convulsive stretch my painful eyes. Love, Hope, Despair and Grief; faint gleams of joy; Futurity and Fear, on sable wings, A dread assembly, hover round my bed, a2 4 WOODLANDS. O Sleep, again, thou partial goddess, hear Thy vot'ry's prayer. I never made the night Reecho with the shrieks and groans of death, And yet the murderer sleeps. E'en in thy arms The houseless beggar throws his crippled limbs, And smiles. But let the wretch be happy. Me Poetic thoughts ; the handy works of God, Shall exercise. Of wilds to gardens turned ; And hills storm-beaten waving now with pine; Or clad in gold or grazed by harmless sheep, Midst nature's war, distressed, I rise to sing. Sleep on rough world: thy many million sons, That all day long have tugged the dashing oar ; Guided the plowshare through the stubborn glebe ; Endured the forge's heat ; the tyrant's frown ; And all the sad servility of toil: They ask no opiates to secure their rest; They never bend the suppliant knee to sleep ; But close their eye, as closing evening comes ; WOODLANDS. All night are happy ; and at morning rise, Cheerful as does the harbinger of day. But in this elemental strife ; this war Of Nature's children, who shall tune the lyre ? While the loud blast, with yells and hollow groan, Stops at short intervals to shake my roof; While the thick clouds, in many a lurid form, Roll heavily along, and yon pale orb, Flashing and starting from their hilly folds, Wanders in fearful hurry to the west ; While Rudeness thus usurps the reign of night, How shall I sing of little, spangling stars ; Of Night's composure, and the silent Hours That pour their stillness o'er the anxious soul, And favour rest ? How shall I paint the mead, Encircled round with hawthorn, blooming fair, And strewn with buttercups, that steal their hues From amber rivers of the opening day ? Or make my visit to some shelter'd copse, 6 WOODLANDS. Where, in the mild and sunny noons of spring, Blushes the primrose, and the daisy shews Its modest orb, hung round with carmine fringe ? But contrast teaches us the worth of things, And sets a double relish on the joys, That stand in sight of danger or of pain. Hence the strange pleasure, that we feel, when winds Seize on the billows by their angry brows, And huge ships drive around, like autumn leaves : Hence the lone herdsman, while he hears the din Of distant battle clang upon his ear, Safe, from his craggy eminence, beholds, With pleasing horror, Havoc at his work. Then, while depression sits upon my soul, And tempest revels through the troubled air, I'll send Imagination forth to play With woods, and cultur'd fields, and lawns ; With warbling birds, and Flora's lowly tribe: WOODLANDS. And tell, O WHITE, how thy industrious hand Drove startled Barrenness from all her rights Of old possession ; and morasses deep, And wind-swept hills, in verdure such adorned, As clothes the meadows of some antient stream, And while, in thought, I tread these alleys green, With all the seasons of the changing year, And sing thy charms, Retirement, and the charms Of social joy, ne'er let my song be called, The coward offering of a venal mind. Because I cannot write immortal verse, I shall not therefore bolster up my head, With ease inglorious, and a prey become To misery, that indolence creates. Let guilt be gulled with mercenary praise, And charioted in pomp, be rolled along Through gazing streets. Let Wonder, idiot-like, In memory-assaulting language, tell, E'en to the vallies lodging in the skies, 8 WOODLANDS. Of statesmen, toiling at the helm of power ; Of brawling patriots, and the warrior chiefs, Whose souls in anger rushed through staring wounds, And flew, all bloody, to the gates of heaven : My song shall be of him, whose labour taught A wilderness to smile ; who claims no praise From warlike deeds, but bread procures for man. O ! could my efforts bid his memory live, I'd fix, indelible, as are the hues Of laurel or yon azure arch, his name Upon the rolls of time : that, should the arm Of order cease to press on Faction's chains, And that dire monster, reassuming all His horrid strength, o'er city, grove and seat Of rural quiet, like a comet pass, Shaking his burning hair and firing all ; — Should tasteless opulence, or freakish mode, Cut into patches of fantastic form, This beautiful economy of fields and trees, Which seems the happy work of nature's hand; WOODLANDS. 9 E'en then some mind, enamoured of the charms Of rural elegance and bold design, Our hills and vallies might again invest In all the fair variety of wood, And happy cottage, mead and cultur'd fields, Not thirty suns have yet, in annual round, Oone to yon starry pastures, where the goat Eternal habitation holds, and, muffling up The face of morning with a lowering veil, Down from the gushing cat'racts of the sky Pours his dark torrent, since no hedge or tree; Nothing but heath, agrostis, # hardy plant ; And rush, delighting in the foulest swamps, Covered the spot, which now employs my song. It was a dreary scene, where oft at night Th' unsteady glare, that mocks the traveller's eye Shot gleaming round. Here sailed the hawk, and here B * Bent-grass. 10 WOODLANDS. Screamed the shrill glead, and plied her stormy song The curlew. Tenant of the poorest soils, The tedious lapwing, too, her tumbling flights Performed ; and, basking on the sunny banks, The beauteous adder coiled his shining length. Browsing on sapless heath, a shepherd's care, By day a scanty maintenance procured ; And, as approaching twilight threw its shades Of dimness o'er the world, in regular march, Sought out the sheltering corner of some hill, And, grouped together, laid in harmless sleep. Here too, in Leo's sultry reign, and while The hot and ruddy virgin ruled the year, The toiling sportsman ranged. But now, no more The curlew or the lapwing's voice is heard ; No bleating of a hungry flock at eve ; No roar of guns t' affright the jocund lark, Or stop the blackbird s song : the fearful grouse Have fled to hills, defying culture's art, And rudely pushed into inclement skies. . WOODLANDS. 11 And, rushing now on fancy's airy mind, Methinks I see fair Culture leading forth The sons of Labour to these barren lands. As on they move, Sterility alarmed, In yelling terror, quits her heathy throne. And, as an eagle, when a shepherd tries To scale its eyry and destroy its young, Rises and plunges, with distracted haste, The hungry demon rages, flies, and falls. With hope and fear, alternately possessed, She sails away, then reassumes her seat. But see! 'tis done. The blazing faggot lights Her purple glory, and she takes her way To mountains, brushed by surlier winds, and where, Associate with the Genius of the storm, Midst clouds and naked rocks, she sits, Like exil'd majesty, in sullen pride. Then, hail, sweet, altered spot ! hail in the robes Of early spring! I feel my soul refreshed ; b 2 32 WOODLANDS. My spirits gladdened, while I send abroad Imagination to thy flowery fields. I see thee not, indeed, in cheerful trim ; But, torn and ruffled by the winter's rage, All sad and beauteous, like a mourning bride. Now streams of night, and now a lustrous flood Of liquid gold, diffusive, roll along The sable garments of the Scotian fir. Showers of destructive hail still vex the sky, And winds inclement, on the naked boughs Of elm and oak, discordant music play. But, lo ! majestic, on his annual orb, The prince of light advances to the ram, Proud of his jewell'd horns ; and stealing out, From all the western chambers of the sky, In countless swarms, the race of zephyrs come. Their genial breath imbues the humid plains With verdure, and to life the flowery tribe Woos gently. But, alas ! the furious god, WOODLANDS. 13 Whose palace is behind yon restless fires, Which terrify the night, may yet distend His lungs of ice, and drive the tender throng Back to their odorous gardens. Dipt in blood And streaked with inky lines, o'er morning's face A veil may flutter ; and the flower, that spread Its joyous petals to the noon-day sun, At evening's close, may fold them up in death. But, when the year has reached the beamy star, Resplendent in the bull's forbidding front, Again the lightsome messengers of health, On wings, invisible to mortal eye, Like infant angels, from the charming w T est, Shall come, and, o'er the virgin's sickly cheek, Fresh crimson lay. Then, from her father's arms The blooming Genius of the spring shall leap, And round her loins a radiant mantle bind : While Chearfulness, a nymph of sprightliest eye, Wakes the wild language of her golden harp, 14 WOODLANDS. And loads the listning habitants of air With sounds of sweet confusion. Pleasure, too, Half-rob'd and lifting high her tambourine, Shall wanton forth : suspended in the air, The whirling instrument shall seem to hang, While the fair actress, at extended arm, With graceful ease, its gingling circle thrums. Now Flora, loveliest of the train of spring, Her temples wreathed with many a blushing flower And loose robe floating on the sunny light, Calls out her children from the sleep of death The humble speedwells, with cerulian eye, And deep-ting'd violet, with fragrant breath, Adorn the shade : scattered o'er ev'ry mead, The golden spangles of the pilewort glow ; And, through the leafless woods, th' anemone, And fair oxalis, like yon world of stars, That croud the galaxy, serenely smile. WOODLANDS, 15 Meek offspring of the earth, your fragrance breathe O'er hill and dale ! In all your mingled hues, Burst from your seeds and little folded buds! O'er you, as well as man, th' Almighty's eye Watches forever; and the lily's bell Is still as white, as beautiful, as sweet, As in the morning, when the obedient earth Heard the Creator's mandate, and ye sprang, Seed-yielding herbs, tall trees, and grassy blades, All-jocund into life. How r many hours Of sweet society I found with you, When grief and sickness every evening drew The wings of Misery above my head! And (hardiness may laugh) but I have thought, 'Twas cruelty to pluck you in the bloom Of life, and implicate your bleeding stems, E'en though to make a garland for the brow Of her I most admire. With you I claim A mortal kindred: for like me to death Obnoxious are you all. But then, alas ! 16 WOODLANDS, My death is passage to an awful state, In which no change of circumstance can be. A grain of wheat, committed to the earth, Produces wheat, consimular to itself; And souls their moral likeness still shall keep — Be rude and restless in the world to come, Or, blessing others, happy in themselves. In this sweet season, while the herald lark Wakes up the rosy hours, and morning throws Thin robes of crimson o'er her cloudy walls, And leisurely unfolds the gates of day, Cool breezes wanton o'er the dewy hills, And murmuring waters, and the rustling sounds Of leaves, in sweet admixture, float along With breath of op'ning flowers. The turtle's tale Steals in sad charms into its partner's nest ; And joy excessive, from the blackbird's throat, In harmony unmeditated flows To cheer his brooding mate. Perched on a pine, WOODLANDS. 17 New gilded with the beams of orient day, The thrush incessant plies his am'rous song. Each zephyr on its wing delighted bears The short, but merry, descants of the wren ; And ev'ry tree is vocal with the notes Of universal love. No rufes of art Check the luxuriance of the linnet's glee, Or stop the finch'es carol. As they feel The tender passion fluttering through their veins 4 They wake to rapture, and, with keen delight, Catch inspiration from each other's eye, And pour a wild song on the passing gale. O time of love ! of unabated bliss ! Why dost thou travel, with such envious haste, To wed with summer and despoil thy cheek Of virgin bloom ? Thy way is strewn with flowers, And, least the flinty earth thy beauteous feet Should bruise, a grassy carpet over-spreads Its bosom. Down thy polished shoulders play 18 WOODLANDS. Ringlets of unshorn locks, and not a hand Has dared to rend thy vesture. Stop, O, stop, Thou genial season ! Nay thy speed increase : Go as thou wilt, for summer's ardent heat, And winter, dreary with his frozen nights, Alike inflame the human breast. No change Of season can our bosoms cool. The shears Of time may clip the tender wings of love, And age may scatter o'er our furrow'd brows His hoary a$hes; but, as long as life Pours its warm current through the heart of man, Some throbs of tenderness shall there be felt. Yonder the husbandman to toil goes forth, Cheerful as morning. Where the supple larch Bends o'er the thorny hedges to appease The wrath of tempest, and adorn the fields, The forceful share moves slowly through the land. The careful sower next, with measur'd step, Swinging his arm, consigns the hopeful seed WOODLANDS. 19 Unto the humid bosom of the earth; And then the iron-bearded harrow comes The grain to bun 7 , and to smooth the soil, Another view presents a labourer stout, With shining mattock, raising from the ground The plough's obstructions ; while, of duller eye, His creeling vehicle, a carter loads With fragments of misshapen stones. Like one, That muses on the frailty of life, With downcast look, and full of serious thought, A hoary woodman, as he leaves his cot, Imprints die meadows with his early steps. Catching the breathings of the soft-limbed youth, Whose mansion lies beneath the middle course Of the descending sun, a shepherd boy Watches the antic gambols of the lamb, Or, with his flute, in many-vary 'd notes Calls on the slumb'rino; echoes of the woods. 20 WOODLANDS. Oh ! Custom, inmate of the coldest breasts ! Oh ! frozen power, that nipp'st the tender buds. And rudely pluck'st away the op'ning blooms That grace the stems of genius and of art — Oli ! how I hate thy earthy, grov'ling mind ; Thy niggard precepts and thy narrow soul ! Thou bind'st an iron manacle around Our hands, and set' st us in the stocks of time. Thy votaries still are wretched, abject slaves To all the fears, the silly spells and charms, That Craft and Ignorance ever laid on man. Where are thy arts ? By savage instinct given I The bee, the beaver, ev'ry herding brute Can form some shelter from inclement winds, And make provision for a future storm. But we have crushed thy monarchy ; expelled Thy low delusions from our favour'd isle ; And see fair Science humanizing man. Arts flourish, and the hand of Culture spreads Profusion o'er our long-neglected lands, WOODLANDS. 21 Charmed with the blaze of truth, th' enlighten d son Thinks it no crime, no trespass on the law Of nature or the bands of filial love, T' apostatize the errors of his sire. Free, as we are, we cannot bear thy joke. Our bodies liberty we still could boast, And brag of legislation to the world \ But what availed our equity of laws, Our liberty, our strength, and all Our matchless policy, while thy bad power Held us thy captives in a willing chain, And bound us down to prejudice, that cramps Each mental faculty and mars all good? Where thou art found; Barbarity resides; Fell Superstition holds her mystic court ; And men are ignorant and fields untilled. Once more the sunny morning to enjoy, To drink the healthful breeze, and hear the song OSf birds, sweet-warbled from each budding spray, £2 WOODLANDS. E'en Age and Sickness leave their painful beds. See ! from that whiten d cottage, on whose roof O'erhanging woods their trembling shadows wave, And where the babbling rill, meandring, flows To irrigate a garden, covered thick With embryo forests, tott'ring as she walks, A widow comes. Her feeble arm a staff Smooth- worn supports. Cautious and slow, she takes Her way along the winding avenues Of pine. The cherub offspring of her son, Playful as kids, and lively as the morn, Gambol before her, and with childish zeal Crop the wild daisy or the woodruff's wheel ; And, often, as they fill their little hands, Return to lay the treasure at her feet, Joy unalloy'd is not the lot of man ; But they, whom children with a smile ne'er blessed, Have never felt th' anxieties and grief, That fill a parent's breast. Yon matron meek, With patient care, was leading oa to heaven WOODLANDS, 23 A num'rous family. Mysterious Fate! We bow submissive to thy righteous will ; But cannot shut the fountains of our grief, When they, whom nature, with a cord of love, Has bound upon our bosoms, lay them down To sleep within the chilly arms of death. E'en in the op ning blossom of their years, While on their brows the dignity of man Its seat was forming, and their tresses bright, In ringlets loose, upon their shoulders flowed, A lingering malady their bodies seized, And all, but one, were earned to the grave. " Is virtue thus rewarded — this the lot u Of beings born with countenance erect r " Why were my sons," she cried, "ordained to breathe " This vap'rous air; to crawl a little while " Twixt heaven and earth, and then dissolve away?" But time has plumed his wings with happier days. The placid evening of her life is spent In preparation for a world to come. 24 WOODLANDS. No superstitious fears alarm her soul ; No nightly phantoms hover round her bed ; But, half an angel, all her thoughts are fixed On heaven's redeeming love, and future bliss. Spread, like a mantle, o'er yon sloping hills The forest now appears. It feels the vernal lymph Ascending its innumerable veins, And, pleased, its dappled liv'ry reassumes. For commerce or for war in future days, Of slow maturity, the sapling oak Unfolds his princely honors ; and the lime Weds his young branches to the shady beech. Clust'ring and dark, the Caledonian fir Puts on a brighter hue. The lofty spruce, That on Norwegian hills, by twilight seems A sable pyramid of dizzy height, Extends the branches of his gradual wheels, And throws his lengthening spears into the sky. The larch, fair native of the toweling heights, WOODLANDS. 35 Whence storm-fed Po, impatient down the brows Of Viso, comes to kiss the blooming flowers Of Parma's pastures, like some beauteous maid At Hymen's altar, bends with graceful boughs. Its robe is bridal, set with dangling flowers, Of which the yellow male affords a dust, That, by the zephyr's ministerial hands, Borne to the purple bride, with joy, insures Fecundity. And trembling like a hart, Entangled in a hunter's toil, the poplar shakes His hoary tresses o'er the murm'ring brook. Dark alders too, the many-leaved ash ; The supple osier, and the slender birch Put on the vesture of the youthful year. The aged groves, that all sublimely wave Around the venerable seats, where lived, In antient days, the worthies of our isle, They are majestic, and the mind fulfil With awful reverence. Gentler are the joys D 26 WOODLANDS. That woods, and thorn-defended fields, and lawns, Fresh in the youthful glories of the spring, And sounding with the high-tun d lay, that floats, From countless tongues, through all the listening air, Infuse into the soul. They bring to mind The paradise of Moses, and the isles, Elysian called, in Greek and Roman song. No parallel, indeed, can here be found To match with bowers Calabrian, or the groves Of Otaheite ; for art must vainly strive To bid the cocoa, in our cloudy skies, Hang out its milky fruit, or olives see The luscious grape depending from their boughs. Though blushing peaches grace the sunny walls, These lands are not the gardens of the sun, Watered by Ganges or La Plata's stream ; By nature they are sterile, moory soils, Compounded ill with unadhesive sand, And laid on aqueous beds of hardest clay. But nature's wants are well supplied by art. WOODLANDS. 2? The rush no longer here exhales the breath Of stagnant waters. Down their nightly beds, A thousand streams now silently devolve; And where the floating leaves of poa, # pressed The intranslucent bosom of a pool ; Where acid wortle,-f with a rosy flower, And spotted fruit, on beds of sphagna[| grew, Firm is the earth beneath the horse's hoof, And vernal-grass and purple trefoil throw, Their fragrant treasures on the £ales of June. & H O Mercy, thou, the gentlest child of heaven, Who sit'st enthroned in yon benign abode, That now fuil-orb'd, and then with blunted horns, O'er all these pines her streams of silver light Profusely pours — meek goddess, while I walk This vary'd span of misery and joy, Still let my soul be open to receive D 2 * Poa fluitans, or Pvleadow flote-grass. f Vaccinium oxycoe- cus, or Cranberry, fj Bog-mosses, 28 WOODLANDS. Pleasure from woods, and brooks, and fruitful fields, Where verdant or where golden seas display Their billowy wealth, or graze the speckled flocks, *Tis pride or madness, that despises wealth; But welcome poverty, if wealth exclude Th' enjoyment, that I feel in sunny days, And all the goodly prospects of our isle. Had I not better be deprived, at once, Of man's preeminence, the reasoning power, Than view with apathy the works of God ? But sure, no state of wretchedness there is, But, Mercy, thou hast poured into its cup Some drops of balm ! some lenitive of woe! Then you, who love the early walk, who love To breathe in air, just wafted from the lips Of ruddy morning, and behold the sun, Lifting his gradual disk above the earth, And binding all his cloudy robes with fire; Come let me lead you through this fairy land, WOODLANDS. £9 That fixes Ignorance in stupid gaze, And charms the amateurs of rural scenes. Yonder it is ; at distance like a field Of soldiers, marshalled thick in war array, All o'er whose spears and casques of yellow bronze Young sunbeams play. But, as we nearer come, Copses irregular, and flowery fields, Fast crouding into southern skies present The minded riches of sreen sward and tree. "Wave upon wave they rise, a goodly shew ; While all the pines, saluted by the tribes Of viewless beings, who at morning come, From all the purple chambers of the east, Bow their young heads and bid the travellers hail. See ! from the heaving bosom of that grove, How modestly the mansion raises up Its roof of sober blue. No columns there With capitals, adorned with bending fruit. SO WOODLANDS. Or pilasters, deep buried in the wall, In stately ranges, stand to warn us thence. Deep in th' unruffled bosom of the lake In simple elegance, the front is seen; And idle columns of convolving smoke, Like time reverted, into nothing waste. On southern site, the clumpses of the lawn Stoop with their heads into yon azure road; Where, at immeasureable distance, rloat The dews, that just before, in trembling drops, Had hung on blades of grass. The morning's light, Thrown on the windows with unsteady glare, Plays on the wave, as on a mirror's breast. Northward, with ivy fringed, the garden wall Heaves on its laurel bosom ; and o'erhung, With loftier trees, the rural buildings throw Their sunny roofs, impendent o'er the sky. Nor chill with gloom, nor subject to the heat Of all the solar force, that winding path WOODLANDS. Receives us next ; for meditative minds Delightful haunt, whether with blooming spring, Or Summer lightly clad in Grecian garb, Or Autumn breathing fast and full of thought, "We love to roam. Here Arethusa's bard To high-harp'd melody at eve might sing His pastoral lavs ; or Sappho's gentle soul Dissolve in love, as swept her trembling hand Across the lyre, and Phaon was her song. Children of soils, that bask beneath a sun, Fiercer than our's, the laurels here unfold, To cold December winds their sable fruit, Enchased in leaves of never-ending green. When May, with smiles, detains the furious north, The genii of the west- wind come to so shake The lilach's snowy tresses ; and in sport To visit the laburnum's costly rills Of yellow bullion. Stealing from the moon Its hues, or when she lifts her bloody orb Above the wave, or rides aloft in air serene, 32 WOODLANDS. The senna loosely throws its glories out To cheer declining summer. Ever famed In superstition's lore, the mountain-ash From branches, graceful with their burden, hangs Its pendent clusters of vermilion fruit. There spreads the yew his dark, funereal arms ; There waves the slender birch, and willows weep, Shedding, with silent grief, into the lake, Their morning tears. This was a barren heath! But now the sight, in wild'ring pleasure lost, Wanders o'er roses, o'er the flaunting boughs Of hawthorns, clasped with woodbine, and the larch,, Frosted with manna and sublimely thrown Above yon mossy cell, w 7 hich shuts the view. In silence and in solitude like this, When all the busy world was hushed asleep, Or nothing, but the city's distant noise Low-murmured on the sullen gales of night, Jesus, the poor man's friend, the sinner's friend, WOODLANDS. S3 Where Kedron babbles through its olive groves, Unheard by mortal ear, conversed with heaven, And taught his soul that piety, he taught The sons of men; and hither might the saint Or philosophic mind at evening come To visit nature in her sob'rest mood ; To muse with Contemplation ; and t' adore The wonder-working hand of him, who breathed A reas'ning spirit through the human frame, And into motion pushed each mighty world. Thou Sun, to whom so many thousands pay High adoration, and at mom and eve, Praise to the language of their prophet's harp, Shall I behold thy setting orb with fear And apprehension, such as they must feel, Who think the wicked, after death, are thrown To howl for ever on thy heated shores ? Oh ! I have seen thee, o'er a western hill, As mild as charity, with beams as soft, E 34 WOODLANDS. As are thy sister's in the twilight thrown O'er weary reapers, in their journey home. Thou art the centre, heat, and light of all Our planetary system, and thy beams Flow through the boundless fields of space, and turn TV enormous star of Herschel, with the ease A school-boy whips his top. But, in thy rays, Our dazzled reason wanders and is lost. We know a little, and the rest we own In mute astonishment and solemn gaze. E'en now methinks, on Inspiration's eye, I see dark clouds, with edges dipt in flame, Above th' horizon proudly thrown, and streams Of circling glory, o'er their swelling sides, Flowing away to tinge, with crimson hue, The outer gates, and citadels of night. O for a pencil, dashed in yon bright rills, To paint each alt'ring shade ! O for a thought, In which the burnish'd picture might survive ! WOODLANDS. 35 But why? Fresh clouds shall robe the setting sun. Six thousand fleeting years have nearly passed, Through which returning evening has renewed Her charms ; has caught the poet's phrensy'd eye ; Has thrown bright garments o'er her western skirts; And eased Apollo of his fiery crown. And shall defection now, in Nature's spite, Seize on the spheres, and bid them change their course ? Ah no ! this healthful and this steady globe, Like a young giant, rises to its work, And makes as cheerful music in its orb, As in the vigorous morning of its birth. As twilight comes, the bat shall still perform Its gyry flights, and drowsy swallows sing A hymn of sleep to the reposing world. And, then, the moon shall lift her crescent horns, And bright-hair 'd Venus glitter in the west. While Mars, dim orb, and Jove, with dusky moons First kenned on earth by Gallileo's eyes ; While mighty Saturn, whom X)es Cartes has placed e 2 36 WOODLANDS. On heaven's remotest whirlpool's awful verge, Wheeling with tardy majesty along; While all our planets and the countless suns, To which conjecture travels up in vain, For aye shall glitter on the robes of Night. But, in yon starry fields, I oft have thought The blessed souls of the redeemed in Christ Their habitations have ; where, unconfined With every thing, that men material call, Swifter than light, from star to star they fly. Alike set free from sorrow and from pain, Their pleasures must be intellectual all : And charity, that bore them to the skies, When faith and hope were swallow T ed up in bliss, Must there direct and govern every breast. Tell me, ye dead ! is not your ceaseless work, T* adore and imitate the god, who made Your glorious habitations, and to search WOODLANDS. 3? With unabated zeal into the plans Of Wisdom infinite. O happy life, And happy spirits, whom no ills molest ! A few short years, and we shall all enjoy This high, this full beatitude with you. Brothers Is this no phrensy of the soul ? Oh, yes! dear sister, I shall meet with thee. The anguish, that my mother felt, and all My father's tears, that wet thy early grave, Shall then be quite forgotten in our joy. Methinks I see thee, in yon distant star, Astronomers the fair Arista call, W 7 ith all our humble kindred, bending down To sing an anthem to the king of kings, And, while imagination fills my ear With angels' harmony, my eyes weep joy. O ! may this dear delusion oft possess My soul — this little, visionary gleam return To dissipate the clouds of human ills, And gild my prospect into future bibs, 38 WOODLANDS. With Summer now, in pride of all her reign, We seek the breathless wood, at heated noon; Or catch the opaque gales, that come to kiss The daisy, as it shuts its eye at eve, Or wakes to drink the crystal floods of day- Within the shadow of a southern hedge, The mower hangs his scythe upon a bough Of feath'ry larch. Exact, as is the sun To climb the dizzy summit of his course, His little daughter brings a clean repast, Prepared by her, who shares his toil and bliss. The prating beauty on his shoulders hangs ; Dangles the flexures of its father's hair, And wakes a trembling pleasure in his veins. Here is a lesson for the idle crowd, Whose limbs are lax and weary with the toil Of most laborious driv'ling ! Round his head He twines his tawny arms, and lays him down^ Possessed of all the luxury of rest. WOODLANDS- 39 Light is his heart, not many are his cares ; His mind upon a level with his state ; And if he never felt the tlirob of him, Who wanders in the flowery paths of thought With science and with poesy, he feels No hooks of envy thrown into his soul ; No shock electric, from the hand of pride, To paralize the body of research. With all the elves of coolness and of heat, The blackbird slumbers in his holly bower. The tribe of rooks, o'er all the sun-burnt hills, Scattered, as numberless as ocean's sands, The embryo beetle from its mossy bed In silence dig. The lesser choir, that sang Sweet music to the blushes of the dawn, From field to field the butterfly pursue ; Hang on the full-grown thistle's downy plume ; Or on the with 'ring honors of the mead Sit in luxurious banquet. Not a sigh, 40 WOODLANDS. Sobbed from the bosom of the weary winds, Disturbs the fervid dancing of the air, Or kisses, in its way, our burning cheeks. 'Tis luxury now the deeply shaded aisles Of spruce to tread ; or, ona mossy bank, Beneath the cooling shadow of some elm, In careless indolence, our limbs to throw. Watching the gleams, that quiver through the boughs, We sit in vain vacuity of thought ; Till, unperceived, upon the eye-lids fall The dews of sleep, and visionary forms, In splendid troops, come rushing on the mind, Like genii, seraphim, or angels bless'd, All from whose bodies, borne on swelling clouds, Spears of fair gold in radiations flow. Adversely laid upon a stream of light, That heaves in swelling waves, perhaps a form, Preeminent in power, their chosen prince, Comes gently floating in the awful van ; WOODLANDS. 41 And, while his refluent vesture, white as snow, Waves o'er his shoulders, and his youthful loins, Half-buried, lie upon their crimson bed, Thus pours his song on Fancy's dreaming ear : " In regions far remote from this green world, u O mortal man, I oftentimes have been " With sages and with heroes, once the boast iC And glory of your isle. They loved to tell, u Enraptured loved to tell, how freedom's shrine, " Still beauteous in their days, adorned the groves, " Where druids prayed, and where was heard the song " Of antient days, symphonious to the harp " Of bards, all o'er whose bosoms loosely flowed u The venerable marks of age. Their tales u Inflamed me with a strong desire to see " This land of valour ; but, alas ! I found u Its groves and hamlets laid in reeking heaps " Of ruin ; and tta bearded Roman sat " On Freedom's abdicated throne, and made f* A footstool of the weeping native's necL F 42 WOODLANDS. " These very hills, that just before had waved " With oak and pine coeval with the flood, " A joyless prospect offered to the eye " Of trees with cinder'd arms, and ground still black " With fire. The murm'ring brooks, that irrigate " These peaceful vallies, then were taught to wind " Yon hill around, within whose evening shade, " Vardulian troops, in old Severus' reign, " Brandished their spears, and soldiers, fleshed in war, u On gloomy citadels were seen to walk. " Chagrined and disappointed, back I bore " The melancholy tidings. Since that time, " Full sixteen centuries now have rolled away, " And once again this variegated globe " I come to visit. Witness all ye host, " Attendant on my journies, and that love " With me the wonders of each world t' explore, " How glorious from the wreck of tyranny; u The idle age of ignorance and pride, u This billow beaten isle displays its fields. WOODLANDS. 43 ** As in the primal ages of the earth, " On Iibanon the mantling cedar rose; " Or various herbage, thick with blooming flowers, 11 By pleasant Jordan : so these healthful woods ; " These sunny pastures and enclosures, dark " With earing corn, in youthful strength arise. u Long, O long ! may happiness delight u To bless the tenants of this lovely spot. " May heaven's sweet balm upon their heads be poured, u And angels, when they seek a better land, " To Abraham's bosom bear them all away." How strange are dreams ! with what amazing speedy The mind can travel from the birth of time, When all creation uttered songs of joy, Down to the lowering mornings, when the flood Shrieked with miserable groans of death ! But, slumb 'ring or awake, the powers of thought Run swifter, than the courier beams of day. E'en from this fancy a dream I raise my head, f 2 44 WOODLANDS. And Autumn, touched with sickliness and woe, And Ceres and Pomona, all arrayed In vesture wan, and laden with the spoils Of summer, march before me, O'er the skies A wildness reigns ; and winds ungenial sweep The yellow hills. Profusely from her icy lips, The lengthening Night a respiration throws Of power, like subtle alkali, t' extract The juices of the vegetable race. And, clad in gaudy ruin, see ! the woods A melancholy grandeur now assume. The beech is crimson, and a bloody garb Invests the lime. Upon the poplar sits, As on a virgin's cheek, despoiled of health, A languid paleness ; and the ash appears Sick unto death. Each morning brings a change. The oak, so lately of a joyful green, Puts on a jaundic'd tinge ; and soon the rage Of all the furious demons of the north WOODLANDS. 45 Shall roar upon his sturdy arms, and drh g 1( TO His tarnish'd honors into glens and caves. Thus is the transitory life of man. Youthful to-day, and blooming as the spring; To-morrow — ardent, as a summer's coon, And big with high conceits. Then grows his face Sallow, as autumn ; and his feeble knees Together knock, till winter pull him down. Winter ! thou season of domestic bliss, Terrible in tempests and enthroned in night, Thy very storms to me are full of joy. E'en the poor tenants of Laponia feel A pleasure in thy reign ; and, often as they hear Destruction posting on the angry winds, Yelling at ev'ry rock's opposing front, And threat'ning vengeance to their blast-worn hilte. They gaze around their rude, but peaceful homes, And bless their country for a shelt'ring roof, 46 WOODLANDS. Wanderer as I am, without a spot In all this mighty world, where I could rest My weary limbs, and claim it as my own; Yet I have, sometimes, thought thy ev'ning hours Flew with an envious and uncommon speed. Oft, in my boyish years, long nights, I lent A greedy ear to prophecies of war; To tales of bloody clouds, and armies seen In furious conflict in the fields of air: Of local spirits, and the moonlight dance Of fairies. When my breast began to pant With love's sweet power, well pleas'd I saw the sur Descend into the frozen chambers of the west, And Darkness draw her curtains o'er the world. Then the mild languishing of Beauty's eye r Her minstrel hand or voice of melody, Sweet as the warbling of the bird of night y Entranced my soul. I never shall forget The moment, when the idol of my love Asked me the name of the resplendent star^ WOODLANDS. 47 Which shines upon the borders of the robe, That o'er Bootes waves. I could not draw "The little spangle from its centered spot, And lay it on her hand. Oh ! how a tide Of nameless transport flew along my veins. The coward blood ran chilly to the heart ; And then, as if in madness, turned again Along its heated channels. Of my cheek Crimson and paleness, with alternate haste, Possession took ; my mingled sight and words On my lips fluttered; and my languid knees Together struck. Then, Winter, never gloom Thy hours with horrors, darker than I've seen, And I shall always love thee ; always find This glance of being worthy of my care. Oft, while the god of storms forgets to rage, And sky-enthroned Stillness waves her hand O'er all the world, with solitary step And folded arm, I tread some hedge's side, 4S WCODLANDi. That bids the sunbeams linger in its shade, As steals their father through his shorten cl course, And no dim vapour tarnishes the blue, Illimitable canopy of heaven. Borne upon pillars of unequal strength, The stooping branches of the pine appear, Like the white mountains, that in air are seen, Portending thunder. All beneath is dark. Glowing amidst their arm'd and varnish'd leaves, That peep with healthy verdure from the snow, The clustered berries of the holly seem Like rubies, set in emeralds and hung Upon a cloak of ermine. Scattered o'er With crystals, lighter than the down of swans, And more pellucid, than the filmy scales Of purest talc, is every naked tree. The rill, that all the summer long had tuned Its mur'muring cadences with nicest care, Is hushed and still as midnight. On its banks WOODLANDS. 49 Fantastic columns by their heads depend, Or, shooting downwards to the marbled stream, On pedestals, like alabaster, stand. The willows and the hoary blades of grass Form wreaths Corinthian o'er their vitreous brows : And rays of light, refracted from their sides, Dance in a thousand hues before the sun. Every casual stroke, that wounds the air, Reechoes. But no blackbird's joyous song; Xo warbling of the larks, or mellow lute Of all the woodland choir delights the ear. A sullen taciturnity the grove Possesses ; and in vain the feather'd boughs Of laurel and syringa from the lake Reflection woo ; and the recoiling mind Shudders at thought. But why, my soul, on death, From this uncheerful, and this frigid view, Turn with such trem'lous horror? Does the shroud, That hides the shrivel'd and unsightly face Of earth, remind thee of the robe, that soon 50 WOODLANDS. This moving miracle of flesh may clasp In icy folds? or do yon branches, dry And sapless, as a rod of iron, bring To recollection tombs and charnel vaults, Scattered with bones ? I am a mortal man, And always see some emblem of my state — Some awful index pointing to the grave. But then, O White, the dismal view is cheered With the bright prospect, which the son of god Has opened to the eye of Faith. 'Tis there,, The panting soul her native land descries; And there, your much-lamented daughter waits To hail her aged father to the shores Of immortality and ceaseless spring. Till that shall be, the evening of your life, upon the bosom of your family, In quiet spend; and let me say — Enjoy The woods and fields, the high and social bliss Of your delightful spot. How short the time WOODLANDS. 51 Since no domestic joy, connubial love, Or fond, parental tenderness was here; No song of birds to hail the break of day; No friendly intercourse 'twixt man and man ; No worshippers of God ! In spring, 'twas drear ; In summer, profitless; and, as a thorn Roils to and fro, vexed by contending winds, Or some huge porpoise, in a stormy night, Gambols by moonshine on his restless hills, The sportive ruler of the inverted year, Tumbled and rolled upon the northern blast. But, centered in a new creation now, Your mansion seems of loveliness and youth The fair abode. A tender mother sees, With fond affection sparkling in her eye, The children of your son, delighted, climb Their father's knees and wanton in his arms. From choristers innumerable rise Well-modulated anthems to the doors Of morning* Pity, too, whose visual orb G 2 52 WOODLANDS. Floats on a tear, and Hospitality These groves frequent. Up to the throne of grace, On wings of charity, the fervent prayer Ts borne ; and, through the stillness of the night, The sounds of instrumental music creep Into the listening ear. Some misery or grief Is always poured into the cup of life ; But all the real pleasures, that adorn Or cheer mortality, conspire to smooth The path, that leads you to the unknown world* Truce with the world, and all its feeble aids T' arrive at happiness, which neither sits, On grandeur's plume, on title's starry breast, Or in the circle of a golden crown. The highest pleasures, that belong to earth, Frequent the noiseless dwellings, where our friends At distance from the busy world reside. Suspicion and formality ne'er cloud The brows of men, that in retirement live. AVOODLANDS. .53 'Tis there from rocks, and trees, and running streams They gain instruction, while the soul matures For lands of better prospect; while she learns To subject sense unto the reasoning power; And feeds upon the never-cloying fruit, Plucked from the sacred tree, which Jesus came On earth to plant. They there can spend the day In lab'ring for the benefit of man ; And cheer their winter evenings with delights, Tti at find as ready passage to the heart, As the far louder revels of the town. I never mixed, indeed, with public life. And, therefore, may have formed a judgement false Of its enormities and crimes. But, sure, The voice, that bellows from our marts of trade, Too well designates, that not all we hear Of wantonness and robbery is false. Proof is a stubborn thing, and proofs enow Of foul dishonesty, and murdered health .34 WOODLANDS. Are daily from these nurseries of vice, Disgorged upon us. But their wounds are deep, And we must touch them with a brother's hand. Our fields bid welcome to th' unhappy sons And daughters of delusion. Let them come. In absence from their rioting and mirth, Some gleam from heaven across their path may shine f Some thought may smite the sinner's soft'ning hearty And bring him back to virtue and to God. 'Tis said, the suburbs of a royal house Are dens of wrong ; the vilest spots on earth. And I do well believe it. He, who keeps Himself unfevered with the gen'ral plague. That into ev'ry closet of a court Its noxious breath insinuates, deserves The gratitude of man. For kings do live In air, so often visiting the lungs And sable hearts of sycophants, that smile On day's sweet eye, but daggers clutch at night, WOODLANDS. 55 That they should have an amulet to charm Tli' infection off; and resolution firm As Britain's shores. Their ministers should be Guileless as lambs, decisive as the storm, That health and terror carries on its wing— And so was Pitt. Publicity, though like The angel Innocence, descending through Our cloudy atmosphere, would soon provoke Derision's horrid grinnings and the yell Of jealousy. But greedily to climb To power, and fawn before a prince's feet, Are neither marks of humbleness of mind, Nor proofs the patriot burns within our breasts;. Ambition, cherished with a courtier's zeal, Is but another name for all that's bad. There have, we know, been statesmen wise and good, Who from the darkness of their fellow peers Shone more resplendent: prelates there have been, Who penned the flock of christ with care; and sat, Watchful as serpents and as meek as doves, 56 WOODLANDS. Debating on their country's good. But then The dizzy eminence, so many seek, Changes the visual power, and makes them see, Their fellow creatures, like a swarm of ants, Creeping below. 'Tis dang'rous to be great. Some solitary virtue may withstand The blandishments of fashionable vice; Some desart, insulated good may brave The thousand billows, that are still afloat Each genVous principle to overwhelm; But does not Grace, indignant from the scenes Of midnight revellings, her flight betake? When Pleasure wantons on her rose-strewn bed. And Vice, with soft lubricity of tongue, Woos for her sister, it is hard to turn, In virtuous anger, from their tempting smiles. But, surej t' avoid occasion is the part Of wisdom ; and to toil in rural life, Is better far, than in the city's brawl To lose our virtue and our quiet too. WOODLANDS. 57 There must, 'tis true, be men to turn the wheels— The complicate machinery of state ; And give to commerce steadiness and strength. But let those labour at the kingdom's helm, Whose souls can resolutely look on wrong, And say : i I hate thee'. Let them toil in trade. In whom no thirst the youthful bosom burns To live in noble deeds through future times ; To whom no dower or patrimony comes From wealthy sires. Our merchants are a race Of glorious men; and, in good earnest, brave. Not narrow and penurious like the wretch, Whose miserable eyes and face, as hard, As an implaster'd wall, both want betrays, And poverty of soul : but they are great — ■ The wonder and the talk of all the world. Let commerce stagnate, and we soon should be Reduced to impotence. The dread of want Would make us fruitless ; thin our crowded streets : Our staples would be toys; our towns would shew H 58 WOODLANDS. The tinsel semblance of their former wealth — A low magnificence, replete with crimes. And worst of all — where vigour braced an arm, Dark Pride and Discontent would treason breed ; Hoist up Rebellion's standard, and exclaim : 1 Down with the tyrants, that oppress the poor.' Be kings dethroned, and from their courtier's breasts The spangles of nobility be torn, What would ensue? The same as if the earth, The sun, and all the planetary world, Confused, should wander through the fields of air. But while I praise retirement, I condemn The churlish pride, that like a winter's cloud O'erhangs the brow of solitude. The fall Of waters, and the craggy steep of hills, That live among the clouds ; the gentler voice Of streams, meand'ring, through a vale of flowers ; And Sabbath morning, cheerful with the sounds Of bells, that call us to the house of God, WOODLANDS. 59 Had always charms for me. But, then, I love The social visit, and the hour of mirth ; The jocund song, t' exhilerate the soul ; The private dance, that braces sluggish limbs, And wakes vivacity in ev'ry eye. The proud misanthrope may abjure the bliss Of friendship, and an habitation make Where sea-birds join in chorus with the storm, And never human voice, except the cries Of drowning mariners, that vainly try To touch his pity, ever strike the air. The bigot, too, with discontented howl, May curse the times we live in, and contrast The manners of his fathers with the vice, That now provokes his zeal: but kindness still The human heart inhabits, and our arms Are strong and brawny, as were those that fought On Troy's embattled plains. Our London yet Is not a Babylon in crimes ; our forms h % 60 WOODLANDS, More dwarfish, than the bodies laid In tombs Egyptian. Appetites the same, As rioted in Adam's or in Noah's breast, To evil or to good still urge us on. We often grumble at the world's neglect, And charge blind Fortune with a thousand ills, We bring upon ourselves. But all the wants Of life are few. 'Tis vanity and pride; A love of indolence and furious joy, That makes us poor. The life of man is short, And it is scarcely worth our while to wish Possessions, greater than our present means. But, if my wishes could obtain their end, For more than decent comfort for myself, And something for a friend, they ne'er should roam. I would not drive a vagrant from my door With harshness, and forget his griefs. My time Should be to social and domestic joys, To study, but the most of all, bestowed WOODLANDS. 6l To honor my profession. We can scarce Be happy in a meaner state ; and more Might only steel with tyranny our hands ; Pluck pity from our breasts, and in its place A self sufficiency and pride instill. Friendship alone to city and to shade Can give the glowing charms, our ardent search So greedily pursues. But, here, our choice Should be determined with a care as great, As is our love for virtue and ourselves. I hate the principles of him, who earns His bread by flattery, and whose supple neck And visage of complying muscles, find The courtier's smile or out-of-livery bow For all occasions. Ill the sprightly song, The harp, and sounds of gay festivity Accord with him, upon whose lowering brow Sit discontent and terrible revenge. Of import direful the revengeful laugh ; 62 WOODLANDS. The contumelious jest and scowl of pride, Shall emblems be of charitable minds, When guileless virgins, to the list ning moon, All night the preludes of a battle sing. My friends should all be temperate, virtuous men, To altars and to thrones obedient ; With minds not squeezed into the sordid space Of vulgar thinking; not the filthy stews Of lewdness ; nor rebellion's gloomy dens. I love the man, who's affable and just, Who knows no sudden paroxysms of rage, Or cuts my feelings with a bitter jest. Could I with such, removed from fears of want, A dwelling find, then, dear Retirement, hail ! With less than this, the city be my home. Whatever scenery might adorn the spot, Untrod, or scarcely trod, by human feet, A desart it would seem. With solitude We soon should be, as ignorant and wild As thev who wander in Cafrerian woods. WOODLANDS, 63 Tis social intercourse — a wish to please, That drives the savage from the breast of man, And love and pity naturalizes there. In towns the multitude, together jammed, And never-ceasing thirst for gold, create Extortion, labour, lust. Man civiliz'd The never-to-be-controul'd desire to live In independence urges to pusue The path to wealth. The idle, in their way, Are seized by lassitude and die in want ; The ardent perish ere their wish be full ; Misfortune baffles some ; the rest, at ease, While Youth yet lingers in the arms of Age, And there is lightning in the eye, their heads On Friendship's bosom lay. A dignity, Unblessed with leisure, I should call a curse ; But dignity 7 and leisure, spent in toil Congenial to our minds, are something like Beatitude itself: But then this toil Should always be to heighten and adorn 64 WOODLANDS. Society ; the pilgrim's bleeding feet To dress with balm ; and, in our highest joy, Excess to manacle with iron chains. Adieu, dear White, by Melancholy's side, Through scenes, where Cheerfulness should lead the sons Of Fancy, musing have I trod. My verse Is mortal ; and oblivion thick shall cloud My memVy and my thoughts, when Spring shall dress Your woods and meadows in a robe of green. LONGOVICUM, A VISION. Scilicet et tempus veniet quum finlbus 111 is Agricola, incurvo terram molitus aratro, Exesa invenict scabra rubigine pila, Aut gravibus rastris galeas pulsabit inanes Grandiaque effossis mlrabitur ossa scpulchris. VlRG, LONGOVICUM* A VISION. When Judgement on his awful seat Enjoys, awhile, composure sweet, And Reason yields to Fancy's power The empire of the midnight hour, You know, my Friend, the dreaming mind Embodies things of strangest kind : i 2 * Longovicum. The Roman ftation, whofe hiftory has been attempted in this little poem, is fituated near the village of Lanchefter, in the county of Durham. From the prefent extent of its ruins, and the variety of curious infcriptions, coins, and fculptures, that have been dug from them, it is cer- tain the place was once of considerable importance. But its hiftory is fo much involved in obfcurity, and fo many of the records of its antient ftrength and extention have perifhed with its lefs valuable remains, that its name is now difputed and its founder unknown. f)8 LONGOVICUM Through heavenly fields it sometimes walks, And oft with saints and angels talks ; it sees the fires, that hell illume, And flies through air on steady plume ; In water wheels with pain it rides, Or tumbles down a cat'ract's sides. Camden fuppofed it to be the Longovicum of the Notitis Imperii. His opinion was followed till Horfley endeavoured to prove, that Longovicum was the Roman name of Lancafter, and that the tenth iter, or rout of the Itinerary of Antonine, commenced at Lanchefter. When the fubjecl: has met with due confederation, Camden's conjecture, we doubt not, will be preferred. The feven ftations, preceding the ftations on the wall, have the following order in the Notitia. Lavatrs, Bowes. Maglove, Gretabridge. Verferse, Brugh. Magis, Pierfbridge. Braboniacum, Kirbythore. Longovicum, Lanchefter. Derventio, Ebchefter. Lavatrae, Verterae and Braboniacum retain the fame order, as in the fecond iter of Antoninus. In placing Maglove at Greta- bridge, and Magis at Pierfbridge, I have followed Horfley; and after thefe Longovicum and Derventio placed at Lanchef- ter and Ebphefter, feem in their natural order. Lanchefter, in the Bolden buke and Bp. Hatfield's furvey, is always written Langcheftre; and it is evident that the Saxon lang, and the Jatin longusf are the fame. Had the Saxons, contrary to their . A VISION. 69 Who, in sweet vision, ne'er beheld Celestial forms in air upheld ? Who has not laid in Persian bowVs, Bv HanY tomb, on beds of flowers? ufual manner, preferred this name entire, they would have wrote it Langwicchefter. Ebchefter is upon the river Der- went, and on that account has a ftrong claim to the appellation Derventio. There indeed can be no doubt, but it was called Vindomora by the writer of the Itinerary; but in the long lapfe of time between the Antonines and Theodofius the younger, when the Notitia Imperii is fuppofed to have been written, the original propriety of this name might be forgotten,, and Derventio, the name of the river, on which the ftation was fituatcd, adopted as more appropriate. To controvert the opinion of fo able an antiquary as Horfley, may have the appearance of conceit; but with all due refpecSt to his learning, and his labour, I mud very much differ from. him, in difpoiing the tenth route of the Itinerary. Had he con- fidered,that the road fromLanchefter toMediolanum, or Drayton in Shropiliire, pointed out in the firft and fecond itinera, was much more direct, than that in his arrangement of the tenth iter, he certainly would never have fuggefted a way over two of the wildeft ranges of mountains in Britain, in preference to one pafling through fome of its richeft parts. From Lanchef- ter to Mediolanum, along Watling-Street, and by York, the traveller would fet out with his face towards the place of his deflination; by Old-Town, Whitley Caflle, &c, he would tra- 70 LONGOVICUM Or, who, in dreams, has never trode Some hall of kings the rich abode, Where golden chandeliers displayed A roof with dazzling amber laid, And where Beauty, Love, and Pleasure Danced to tunes of Lydian measure ? One night, 'twas dark, the wind was loud r The moon obscured with darkest cloud; vel for feveral miles with his back to it. That Old-Town r where Horfley difpofes of the Galavia of this iter, was ever a Roman ftation, there has not yet been found either veftige or tradition; and, had a Roman way led between it and Lan- chefter, fome traces of it muft yet have been vifible, over the ftill-uncultivated moors it would have crofTed: but of fuch a thing there is no appearance. Whitley Caftle, we are fure, was garrifoned by the Romans, and evident remains of the Maidenway, leading from it to Magna or Caervoran are flili to be feen. If this iter, like the firft and fecond, had not its commence- ment within the wall, and paffed not along the Maidenway by Magna, I know of no arrangement, agreeing fo well with its diftances, and the ordef of three of the Notitia Rations as the following. A VISION. The brook was swoln and floods of rain Came pouring from the heavens amain. ITER X, A GLANOYENTA MEDIOLANO HI. p. CL* It. Ant. m. p. Not. Imp. Modern Name Glonoventa Glannibanta Old Carlifle. Galavia xviii Caer-mot. Alione xii Alione Kefwick. Galacum xix Amblelide. Bremetonacis xxvii Bremetenraeum Overborough. Coccio XX Ribchefter. Mancunio xvii Manchefter. Condate xviii near Northwich. Mediolano xviii near Drayton. The Lineojugla of the Anonymous writer of Ravenna, as well from the fimilarity of the initial fyllable, as from the place it occupies in his Corographia, feems to be the fame as Lan- chefler. Vindolande is the Vindolana of the Not. Imp. and allow- ed to agree with Little-Chefters, the ninth ftation on the wall. Lineojugla, I take to be Lanchefter, becaufe the way from Vindolande to Vinovia paffes by that ftation. Vinovia is Binchefter. Lavatris is Bowes. By the flighted infpedtion it is evident, that fome order is ©bferved in the Corographia. From Valteris, or Brugh, it goes to Bereda, Plimpton- Walls ; to Lugavallum, Carlifle; to Magnis, 72 LONGOVICUM Safe from the storm, in slumbers blest, I felt the luxury of rest; Caervoran; to Babaglanda, Burdosivald; to Vindolande, Little* Cbejiers; to Lineojugla, Lanchejier ; to Vinovia, Binchefer; to Lavatris, Bowes, which was the next ftation to Brugh. It then proceeds to Cataradtica, Eburacum, &c. Baxter, in his gloffary (vol. ii. p. 80.) thinks Lineojugla a corruption of Cindouigla, and derives it from kind ui uegil, that is, the neck of the principal water. How this derivation is applicable to Chefter-le-ftreet, which he fuppofed to be tho fite of this town, I know not; but as Lanchefter was feated on a kind of promontory, between the brooks Smallhope, and Erowney, Cindouigla is a name, that may be applied to it with no great impropriety. Could it be proved, that Longovicum, at the time when the Corographia was written, had been changed or corrupted into Lineojugla, both thefe appellations might be adopted, as antient names of Lanchefter ; fhould they be proved to be names of different places, it would be difficult to fay whether has the preference; and fhould they both be rejecSted^ as not belonging to Lanchefter, the Epiacum of Ptolomy, from being the moft northerly town of the Brigrantes, and from its im- mediate pofition before the Vinnovium and Caturracticonum of that author, may affert its claims. Curia and Brimenium (Anton. Iter. 1. Horf. Brit. Rom. p. 243.) were towns of the Otadeni or Northumbrians. Farther fouth than thefe, are enumerated eight towns of the Brigrantes; and though fome of them are placed more than a degree weft A VISION. When lo ! transported from my bed, Methought I laid my weary head K of others, it is pretty certain, they were all fituated either up- on, or very near Watling-ftreet. In the following table the order of thefe towns, both as they ftand in Ptolomy and the firft iter of Antonine, is preferved. Pto. Long. Lat. Ant. Epiacum i8° 30' 58° 30' Vinnovium 17 30 53 00 Vinovia Caturractonium 20 00 58 00 Cataracfton Calatum 19 00 57 30 Ifurium ao co 57 40 Ifurium Rigodunum 18 00 57 30 Olicana 19 00 57 30 Eboracum %o 00 57 %o Eburacum Ebchefter, both from its proximity to the Tyne, and the opinion of Camden, has a ftronger claim to Epiacum, than Lanchefter. But, if it be agreed, that Lanchefter, from its medial diftance between Vinovia and Corftopitium, and from its bold, military fituation, was likely to be built before Eb- chefter, we may fairly conjecture, that its name was Epiacum. Glanoventa was not here : Langovicum and Lineojugla I con- iider as the fame : and, as Ptolomy wrote his geography before the Romans had much deftroyed the names of the Britifh vil- lages, this place might be called Epiacum in Hadrian's time; 74 LONGOVICUM Beneath a wall, # whose ruin'd brow Was shagged with many a thorny bough, On w r hich the whistling north-wind played Such shrill, wild notes, that night, afraid, but, in the reign of Theodofius the younger, have got the latin name Longovicum; and, in the barbarous age of the Corographia, be termed Lineojugla. I have been aflured by fome of the oldefl: inhabitants of Lanchefter,that, in the times of their fathers, their village was called Little-brough under Byland Abbey, This muft have originated in fome antient, monadic tenure. Byland (in latin, Bellelanda)\% in Yorkshire; and was once famous for amonafte- ry built and endowed by Roger Mowbray, an. 1143. (Gough's Camd. vol. iii. p. 84.) At prefent it is indifcriminately called the High Walls , the Broom~Lavp Yttw c&TZPicis Titos A#s?£ Tirixvog XtXix^o;, Brit. Rom. P 293. JEsculabio Titus Flavius Titianus tribunus n)otum solvit Ubertissbne merito. Ibid. The (tone bearing thefe infcriptions was difcovered by Horfley. Contrary to the general mode, it is infcribed both on the back and front. A Roman author* fpeaking of Britain, 98 LONGOV1CUM From sea to sea, yon hills along, Reared a wall with ramparts strong ; fays it was clara Grsecis et noftris monumentis; but this and " the famous altar at Corbridge," dedicated to Hercules, are " the only inftances of the Greek character ufed in fuch in- fcriptions in Britain.'* Ibid. Jcvi optimo maximo vexillatio eohortis Vardulorum civium Rcmanorum equitum mill, it* f. I. m. This altar alfo was found by Horfley, " in the corner of a clofe belonging to I Nicholas Greenwell.'" Like the other, it CR'E;$i^3 is too much mutilated to find out its true VSLM ^ reading; but enough is left to fhew that it was dedicated to Jupiter by a cohort of Vardulian cavalry. Rom. Brit. p. 294. Both thefe altars were in the pof- fefEon of the late fir Afliton Lever. NVM. AVG. ET GEN. COH. II. Numeni Augujii et genio eohortis fecurf VARDVLLORVM. j a y ar dulloru7n civium Romanorum equi~ C.R.EQ. *. SVB.AN .„■"-_ . ■ AJ TISTIO ADVEN tum J Antijtio Aavento, Legato TO.LEG.AVG. PRRR. Augujli propratore, F. Titianus tribunus F.TITIAN VS. TRIB # # # R OM lliMATiCOHl VARDVLOR I dat dedicatque rite. Dr. Hunter firft noticed this altar in a letter to Roger Gale, ct dated 17 May, 1735." It was found " within the antient A VISION, 99 And left to roam in space more wide A race that Roman arms defied, "Twas then that Fingal, Morven's king, In Odin's halls heard Ossian sing, N 2 fortification, having its bafe broken off, and the initial letters of the two laft Jines." It is yet at Greencroft, and its infcrip- tion is very legible. All thefe altars appear to be of the fame date, from the mention of either the tribune Titianus or the Vardulians. This Titianus might poflibly be the fame as one, that was Procura- tor of Alexandria, and whom Caracalla put to death with one of his favorites called Theocritus. O Gzokpitos pi$o>v kxl Tmxvo; Xct£io$ i$ovivQq* i7riT£67rivav y«g gv t*j AAs|#v5g<#, &C. Dion. Epit # Ziphil. p. 336. ed. R. Steph. an 1551. The Varduli were a people of Spain, and are mentioned by Mila and Pliny. L. iii c. 3. 1. v. c. 29. Their names are alfo found in three inferiptions, belonging to Riechefter in North- umberland, one of which is dedicated to M. AVRELIVS SEVERVS ANTON1NVS; and another to the God of the Sun for the health and the fafety of the emperor M. AVRELIVS ANTONIN VS. They appear to have been a part of the twentieth legion, which, from the following infeription, JOO LONGOVICUM How Carun's stream with blood was died, And, o'er the fields of all his pride, From valour's host, the bloody van, How 7 Caracul affrighted ran. as well as from thofe belonging to Gordian's time, was either wholly or in part occafionally quartered here. The boar on the above fculpture was meant to reprefcm. ihe Caledonians. This animal was a formidable enemy in the woods of Britain. There is at Stanhope an altar dedicated to the Sylvan God, on account of a boar eximiae forma? captum; and as the taker of it fays: quern multi anteceffores ejus prsedari non potuerunt. Gough's Camd. vol. iii. pgg. Ji6, 246. and pi. xx. fig. 5. The twentieth legion came into Britain with Claudius, and its vexillation was a part of the army of Paulinus,when he con- quered Boadicea. Its head quarters were generally at Diva or "Weflchefter. It is fuppofed to have been recalled about the beginning of the fifth century, as the Notitia Imperii has not mentioned it, Henry's Hift* vol. ii. p. 261. A VISION. 101 But thou, mild youth, what strains shall tell, How, all at once, with sudden swell, A tide of splendour, from thy throne, Burst away and round us shone? Then each tower, by time grown hoary,* Beamed again with brighter glory. * If it cannot be afTerted, that Agricola was the founder of this place, we are fure it rofe with an acceffion of fplendour under the aufpices of the unfortunate Gordian. The principal buildings, within the walls, were the arma- mentaria et principia, the rebuilding of which is recorded on a (lone, bearing the following infcription,and now in the Dean and Chapter's library in Durham.. IMP. OflSSAR. M. ANTONIVS GORDIANVS, P. F. AVG. PRINCIPIA- ET. ARMAMEN TARIA. CONLAPSA. RESTITV IT. PER. MECIL1VM. FVSCVM. LEG. AVG. PRPR. CVRANTE. M. AVR. QVIRINO. PR. COH. i. L. GOR. When Gordian zvas emperor , and Jl£, Fufcus lieutenant governor of Britain, thefe barracks and magazines, ivbich had fallen into decay, ivere repaired by A. Quirinus, prefect of the frfi cohort of the Gordian legion. The infantry, which compofed a Roman legion were of four kinds, called velites, haftali, principes et triarii. The princi- 102 LONGOVICUM Without the walls, on pillars tall, Majestic rose a judgment hall ; And crystal rills were seen to glide Beneath a bath of arched pride. pia included the repofitory of the eagles, and the quarters of the principes. The armamentaria were military depots, or magazines for arms. Dr. Hunter and Mr Gale firft publifhed their remarks on this, and the following infcription, in the philofophical tranf* actions for a. d. 17 17. IMP. CjES. M. ANT. GORDIA NUS. P. F. AUG. BALNEUM. CUM. BASILICA. E. SOLO. INSTRUXIT. PER EGN. LUCILIANUM. LEG. AUG. PRPR. CURANTE. M AUR. QU1RINO. PR. COH. I. L. GOR. *The emperor Gordian, by his legate Egnatius Luc'iUanus , and under the infpeflion of A. Sguirinus, prefeft of the frjl cohort of the Gor-> dian legion , built this bath and bafdic. The bafilicae were firft courts of juftice and places where merchants met to tranfadl bufinefs: they were under one roof, the juftice rooms and the exchanges of the prefent day When chriftianity received the protection of the emperors they were converted into churches. That the bath flood adjoining the bafilic is evident, both from its remains being difcovered where the infcription wa6 found, and from their being mentioned on one ftone. They A VISION. 103 The soldier's toil was then his sport, And towers of ornament each fort ; Secure the shepherd penned his fold, And autumn waved with fields of gold ; High soared the lark with sprightly lay To wake the blushing hours of day; The air no sounds of rudeness smote To stop the thrush'es evening note; were fituated near the fouth eaft corner of the vallum. Every trace of the bath is now obliterated, except certain large maffes of its flooring, built up in the neighbouring fences. The floor was fupportedby pillars, diftant from each other about a yard, and refting on a fubftance, apparently metallic. The angles of four fquare ftones met upon each of thefe pillars, and had their upper furfcce plaftered to the depth of four inches, with a mixture of lime, limeftone, pebbles, and fragments of brick. This compofition is extremely hard; has a rocky appearance, not unfimilar to granite ; and, in fome parts, feems to have undergone a kind of vit refaction. Beneath thefe pillars, a fe- cond range were found refting on ftifF clay, and with the fpace between them filled up with rubbifh, The only room of this building, whofe dimensions could be afcertained, was about four yards fquare. Its walls were plaf- tered with a fubftance limilar to its flooring, and the fellow* in£ altar was found at its eafl end. 104 LONGOVICUM And sad and melancholy doves Then unmolested told their loves. Fortune Augujli facrum Publius J&lius Attkus prafefiu: votum fol'vit lihentijfime merit o. Hutch. Durh. *vol. it. pg* 360. An altar dedicated to fortune was al- io found in one of the rooms of a bath at Netherby: and an infcription, dif- covered at that place, in i734,mentions the erection of a " bafilicam equeflrem exercitatoriam, ,, a kind of riding-fchool, in the reign of Alexander Severus about a. d. 227. This and the three preceding monuments are in the Dean and Chapter's library, in Durham. Csefari noftro imperatori Marco Anto- C. N, 1 GORDIANO T " nI ° Gordian °> P Io > felid ' aU S ufto ; PlcT FEL1CI This infcription is on a mile-pillar now AVG. u f ec j as a gate-poft, on the north fide of the lane, leading from the village of Lanchefter to the flation. A pillar fimilarly infcribed was alfo found at Naworth in Cum- berland, and is now in the mufeum at Rookeby Park, near Bernard-Caftle. Eefides the antiquities hitherto enumerated, the ruins of this place have afforded many other?; but, as it maybe thought irrelavent in a work of this nature to enter into a detail of A VISION. 105 Oh ! days of peace, without a foe, Remembered but to swell my woe, How shall I turn to backward times Of slothful ease and foulest crimes, o niceties, I fhall content myfelf with mentioning fuch as cannot well be patted over, or have not yet been noticed, GENIO. PRAETORI. Genio Pratori Claudius Epabhro- CL. EPAPHRODITVS. ... r/ ,. . .. , # . r -.. A , TTNT . XTT .„ aitus Llauaianus tribunut cobortis / mural BF. COS. altar, given by captain Geo. Ornfby to V.S. LL. M. W . t. Greenwell, Efq. of the Ford. Similar dedications to the filvan god have frequently been met with in this country. Vide Reinesii Syntag. pgg. 138, 141, 148. Gough's Camd. vol. iii. pgg. I17, 159. D • • • This is from an altar now in a mufeum at VICTORIE yOT '"* Kefwick. The infcription is partly obliterated, S V L M and the true reading not eafilv difcoverable. 106 LONGOVICUM When Roman youths, of war afraid, On Pleasure's lap inglorious laid ! And Treason's horrid steel was red With royal blood at midnight shed ! In addition to the fculptures without infcriptions, noticed by Horfley and Hutchinfon, may be placed the figure of a prieft pouring a libation upon an altar preparatory to a facrifice. He has a torch in his left hand, in his right a bottle, and on each fide of the altar is reprefented the rude figure of a lamb. This is in the garden of Mary Brown, in Lanchefter. Though many coins have been found here, only a very few of them have been taken notice of, or found their way into the cabinets of the curious. The account of the firfl: of the follow- ing coins is taken from the Newcaftle Chronicle, for Dec. 29, 1787, and of the five others from the fame paper, under the date April 19, 1788. Nos. 7, 8, 9 and 10, were communi- cated to me by a friend; Nos. 11, 12, 13 and 14, are in the poflefiion of W. T. Greenwell, Efq.; and Nos. 15 and 16, of captain Geo. Ornfby. 1. Silver. Obv. IMP. ANTONINVS PIVS AVG. a laure- ated head. Rev. LIBERALITAS AVG. III. A female figure; in her left hand a cornucopia, in her right a tefiTera, and a ftar before her head. Eliagabalus. 2. Silver. Obv. IMP, C. M. AVR. ALEXAND. AVG. a laureated head. Rev. PIETAS AVG. and piety before an altar. A VISION. 107 As when a storm, in northern skies, By slow degrees, is seen to rise, And, then, by sudden whirlwinds borne, Devastive, sweeps o'er fields of com ; o 2 3. Silver. Obv. IVLIA MAES. AVG. a female head. ReV« SAECVLI FELIC1TAS. A flolated figure at an altar, in her right hand a patera, in her left an hafta et caduceum, and near her head the flar of deification. This lady was the wife of Julius Avitus and the grandmother of Eliagabalus. For an account of her, fee the Hift. of the Rom. EmprefTes, by De Serviez vol 11. 340. iii. 18. 4. Silver. Obv. IMP. ANT0N1NVS AVG. a laureated head. Rev. VICTORIA AVG. a gradiant figure with laurel in its right hand, and a palm in its left. 5. Silver. Obv. SALL. BARBIA. ORBIANA AVG. a ra- diated female head. Rev. CONCORDIA AVG. the figure fitting, in its right hand a patera, in its left a cornucopia and a liar. All that is known of this emprefs is from medals. Her firft name was Saluftia, and fhe was the third wife of Alexan- der Severus. See De Serv. Kift. of the Rom. EmprefTes, vol. iii. p. 69. 6. Copper. Obv. IMP. C. VICTORINVS. P. F. AVG. a radiated head. Rev. PIETAS. The figure nearly like No. 3. 7. Obv. CAES. NER. TRAIAN. OPTIMO. AVG. GER. a laureated head. Rev. P. M.T. P. CVI. P. P. S. P. Q^R. The iigure holds in its right hand a balance, in its left a palm, 108 LONGOVICUM Ken so the savage tribes, that long, From north to south, in countless throng, Had o'er the empire's farthest bounds Y\ aved their swords and laughed at wounds, 8. Obv. P. SEPT. GETA. PIVS. AVG. * V a laurcated head. Rev. * * * *. A ftolated figure, with a bough in its right hand, in its left a fpear, and behind it the fpoils cf vic- tory. 9. Obv. IMP. ANTONINVS PIVS AVG. a laureated bead. Rev. LIBERTAS AVG. Eliagabalua. 10. Copper. Obv. IMP. CONSTANTINVS AVG. a fine laureated head. Rev. SOLI INVICTO COMITl. A beauti- ful figure of Apollo, holding in his right hand a lamp, in his left a globe, and with five rays around his head. Under his feet is TPR, under his right hand T, and under his left F. 11. Silver. Obv. ANTONINVS. PIVS. AVG. a laureated head and no beard. Rev. FEL1CITAS AVGG. A Aolated figure, in its right hand a caduceum, in its left a cornucopia. Caracalla. 12. Silver. Obv. Legend obliterated, a laureated head. Rev. PROVID. DEOR. COS. I. The figure of Providence, with a fun before it. Eliagabalus. 13. Copper. Obv. IMP. N.D.MAGNENTIVS AVG. a plain head. Rev. FELICITAS REIPVBLICE. A male figure, holding in its right hand a victory, in its left a military eagle. Beneath its feet is TRP and under its left hand A. Several coins of this ufurper were found in the old piers of Newcaftle A VISION. 109 Burst from their old and tangled woods, With force, like Hecla's burning floods, And, all-resistless, bore away Cities and armies in the fray, bridge, when it was repaired in 1779. He flouriflied about a= d. 351, After ill fuccefs in battle ad Lugdunum gladio fibi latus aperuit. Pomp. Last, 14 Copper. Obv. * * * CLAVDIANVS * \ a radiated head. Rev. * TV •> *. a female helmeted; in her right hand a laurel, in her left a fpear. 15. Copper. Obv. IMP. C. POSTVMVS. P. F. AVG. a radiated head. Rev. !A. O. IVST. M. AVG. The figure holds in its right hand a balance, in its left a cornucopia. 16. Copper. Obv. * POSTVM *, a radiated head. Rev. * * * a ftag with its head reverted. With thefe fhould be mentioned a large bead of jet and a copper fibula, in the poffefiion of Mr Greenwell; the cover of the communion cup at Lanchefler, which is of filver, and was found anno, 15 71; and a gold plate in the Dean and Chapter'6 library in Durham, bearing; this infeription. MAR'T'I " The cover of the communion cup at Whig- AVG more, c. of Hereford, exacTiy refembles this D AVFIDI D (at Lanchefler) and has on it the date. VSAVFI 1571. Gough s Camd. vol. 3. pg. izz> 110 LONGOVICUM But never let my tale unfold What history's page has darkly told ;+ What civic feuds our isle disgraced, And ev'ry work of art defaced ; f That the hiflory of this place, and of the greateft part of the times, through which it exifted,is not more circumftantially recorded perhaps ought not to be lamented. The annals of barbarous nations and barbarous ages are generally the recital of a feries of cruelties. They have little variety, and that little is only in the exhibition of different degrees of ferocity. From the Notitia, and feveral antient infcriptions it ap- pears, that Britifh troops were fcattered over the face of the whole Roman empire. Continually weakened by confcriptions raifed among the flower of its inhabitants; and finally deferted by the Romans, Britain mull have fallen an eafy prey to the flill fierce and independent Caledonians, had not immediate fuccour been obtained from the Saxons, a people bred up to war, and ready to feize every opportunity of carrying on their profeflion; efpecially in a country, more genial and fertile than their own. After fupprefling the inroads of the northern bar- barians, and finding the country and climate better than that they had left, they feized the reins of power and foon reduc- ed England into feven (or, as fome argue, into eight) petty kingdoms. The inhabitants were obliged to take fhelter a- mongft the mountains of Wales, where, till the prefent time, they have continued, though a conquered, a feparate people. "With refpedt to his Saxon auxiliaries, Vortigern was guilty A VISION* 111 How Odin's altar reeked with gore And festive Yuul delighted Thor ; How Rapine, still engaged in broil, Awoke th' adventrous sons of Spoil : of remarkable impolicy. He put them in pofleffion of the garrifons on Severus'es wall, and the coafts of Kent, the ftrong- eft holds of his nation. Of this imprudence they took the ad- vantage, and wrefted his fceptre from his hand. He himfelf was an ufurper: and the faith of nations, at that time, was no way remarkable for liability. The only prefervative of peace was equability of power; and, even in that (late, kingdoms looked upon each other with jealoufy. They confidered fu- periority as a kind of natural right for dominion; and fhewed little of either mercy or ceremony in plundering their neigh- bours. From the Saxons originated our language, our laws, and many of our mod antient cuftoms. Thefe in fucceeding times were varioufly modified, efpecially at the time of the Norman conqueft; but, to this day, our familiar converfation is ftill a dialect of the antient Teutonic, of which fo much is ftill pre- ferred, that the provincial tongue of moft of the northern counties bears a ftrong affinity to the languages of Holland, Germany, and Sweden, languages fo originally and entirely different from the Welch, that their roots have feldom any^ Smilarity. Dr. Johnfon obferves, that " it has been conjectur- ed, that, when the Saxons feized this country, they fuffered th-e Britons to live among them in a ftate of vaffalage, employ- 112 LONGOVICUM From Cimbrian woods, profusely poured, Came many a rude, invading horde ; The Saxon skilled in elfin lore ; And Dane with beard bestained with gore. 5^ ed in the culture of the ground, and other laborious and igno- ble fervices. But it is fcarcely poulble, that a nation, however deprefTed, fliould have been mixed with another, in confider- able numbers, without fome communication of their tongue ; and therefore, it may, with great reafon, be imagined, that thofe, who were not fheltered by the mountains, perifhed by the fword." This too may ferve to fhew why fo little of Roman refine- ment defcended to pofterity in Britain; and why fo many of the labours of that people were overturned. Thofe, who had obtained their manners, were driven to barren and inhofpit- able mountains, to which, from necefiity, their difpofitions foon became reconciled, and their habits aflimilated. The new pofTefibrs of the country, efteeming war as honour- able, and peace only fit for the dalliance of effeminacy, were always, by their civil commotions, at a great diftance from civilization, and flrangers to arts and commerce. They had neither wealth to procure luxury, nor leifure to ftudy refine- ment. Their roads from neglect became bad or impaflable; and only fuch places were inhabited, as were fuitable to pre- fent convenience. As long as Watling-ftreet continued to be frequented, the ftation of Lanchefter might preferve fome of its importance. Edward the firft, in his purfuit of Robert A VISION. 113 Oh! then, around this lov'd abode, Troops of banditti proudly rode ; And oft at midnight, while a lamp, Through the buildings, dark and damp, Shed a trembling, gleaming ray, The whisker'd sons of Plunder, gay, Caroused in barb'rous mirth, and sang Till all the falling ruins rang. At last, when weeds and briers had made With oaks, a dark and tangled shade ; When daws, still noisy, hovered round The tow T ers with clustering ivy crowned; p Bruce undoubtedly led his army along it to the Tyne; (FroifTart vol. I. xviii.) and the army of David Bruce after the battle of Nevil crofs, availed themfelves of it in their retreat. When Durham became the refidence of the relicks of St. Cuthbert, and Newcaflle began to fwarm with monks, this road was neg- lected, and commercial interefls have fince prevented its being repaired. 114 LONGOVICUM In the first Edward's glorious reign Arose from hence yon sacred fane;* And hamlet brown, that sits in pride The valley's queen, and smiling bride. Surviving still the wreck of age, Barbaric hands, and civic rage, * The prefent church of Lanchefter was made prebendal an. 1283, and rebuilt upon the occafion. When it was firfl: erected, I have feen no account. The Saxon crofTes, built up in the wails of the tower, prove the exigence of a church in the place previous to the year abovementioned; and, that the whole of the prefent building has been erected from the ruins of the ftation, there cannot be the lead doubt. It is more than thirteen centuries fince the Romans left the ifland, and more than five fince the ruins of this place were partly removed; of its intermediate (late nothing can be A VISION. 115 Some marks of antient glory live, And what remains can pleasure give. These hoary walls to me are dear, These fruitful fields I still revere. I feel a pensive joy when spring And silent-footed evening fling p 2 known. From the red allies of the bafilic and the adjoining buildings, It Is certain they fuffered by fire. While I am writing, I fhall add a few remarks on the heaps of iron fcoria, which lie fcattered over the hills of this parifh: but would not have it fuppofed from thence, that I conclude they were formed by the Romans. We need not wonder at the rudenefs of former ages, when modern navigators have vilited countries, to which the com- monefl metals were unknown, and whofe canoes were hollowed by fire or by flints. Arts have been progrefiive towards per- fection — oftener difcovered by fome lucky accident, than by the efforts of invention or the labours of fludy. The oldeft hiflorians we are acquainted with mention gold, iilver, and lead, with a familiarity, which ihews they were gene- ral in their times. See Homer and the Scriptures pafUm. Lucreticus'es conjecture, (Lib. 5.) that the burning of forefb lead to -the difcovery of metals, is both ingenious and probable. 316 LONGOVICUM Around of dews the cooling showers, And copious stores of fragrant flowers. Now where these little beauties fold Their eyelids, formed of tender gold, And tears, like liquid diamonds, flow On all their verdant robes below, Iron, copper, and gold ivere found? silver of massive weight, and powerful lead, when forests dark, on lofty mountains, felt the force offre : whether from lightning's fame or kindled to alarm some threatening foe. Whatever was the cause, ivhy roaring fa?nes, horrid and loud, through woods devouring went, and scorched the earth, forced by tli enormous heat, down into cavities, the melted mass ran from the gloiving veins, and formed a sea, glittering and smooth, that solid soon became. Elevated fituations have always been chofen as the mod convenient for fmelting metals. When I fay always, I only mean previous to the ufe of machinery in this art. Large hills of flag are found on the mountains of Macedonia, fup- pofed to have been formed in the time of Philip, the father of Alexander. The Peruvians fmelt their ores on high grounds ; and it is not much above a century fince wind-furnaces were common in Derbyfhire. A VISION. 117 Many a soldier born in Spain, In Gaul, or Dacia's fair domain, Who found no friend to close his eyes, Unhonoured, unremembered lies. That the Romans had mines in this country appears from the pigs of lead dug up in Derbyshire. One found in 1766, has this infcripticn in relief: IMP. CJES. HADRIANI. AVG. MEI. LVI, importing that it was the property of the emperor Hadrian; another found at Matlock, is thus infcribed: TI. CL TR. LVT. RR. EXARG. abbreviations not eafy to decypher. The flag of iron, and other metals, has frequently been wrought over by the moderns with confiderable advantage — a proof of the fuperiority of furnaces, forced by water-bellows, over the old method of fmelting in the open air. Watfon's Chem. EfTays, vol. iii. Effay viii. Agricola, one of the oldeft mineralifts, notices the employ- ment of mills in this art, as a thing common in his time. His work on metals was publiihed in 1530 Bockler's theatre of machines, tranflated from the german into latin, and printed at Cologne in 1672, has a plan (fig. lxiix. p. aj.) of a mola- pneuftica, or bellows-mill. The knowledge of mining in England was very confined till the Germans were permitted and encouraged to fettle here for that purpofe. In Camden's time, they had extenfive works in the neighbourhood of Kefwick. Mag. Brit, vol. 1, p, 370. The iron-ftone, which has been fmelted in this parifh, has been dug from pits, which retain the name dtelff. To defosh 118 LONGOVICUM But, ever glistening o'er their grave, # The elves of night their wings shall wave, And ruminating herds and sheep, And harmless lambs upon them sleep. If Roman arms no longer shine O'er walls, that haughty ramparts line, Our island's Genius soothes the ire Of Faction, fierce with eyes of fire ; And, while lovely Freedom reigns O'er Power despotic held in chains, to dig. Nuclei indeed of this metal are plentifully fcattered over the hills, and to be found in great quantities in the fand- beds of the brooks, in the neighbourhood of Lanchefler. * Except the tumulus at Maiden-law, and the fragment of a tombftone found in a field near the flation in 1805, and on ... O ..... VL .... N ... which was the adjoining, mu- .... ADRC .... R ... .. ,. ' . . -u u > j-£ •£ jyj tilated micription, I nave heard of no fepulchral difcoveries in this neighbourhood. Maden Ibaiv, in the Saxon language, fignifies the hill of the virgin, or tke Virgins tomb. A VISION. 119 Internal Peace, with sweet caresses. All her happy people blesses. O Britain, may thy rocky shore Ne'er echo with invasion's roar ; Brave may thy sons forever be, And hold the empire of the sea ! But darkly through the gloom of years In garments torn w r lth rage appears " Abrupt she ceased ; and, waving high Her golden harp, resought the sky. With various fears and transports tost, And all in deepest wonder lost, Whether a real scene I viewed Or feasted on ideal food, 120 LONGOVICUM, &C. Doubtful, awhile, my senses strayed, Alike delighted and afraid ; But soon the groaning voice of night Called Fancy from her airy flight, And Reason waked, well pleased to find My head protected from the wind. ODES. Ibam forte via sacra, sicut meus est mos, Nescio quid meditans nugarum. Hor. ODE i. TO THE WESTWINDS. Whither, ye timid zephyrs, have you flown, Ye people of the westwind, tell me where You stretch your aromatic wings, And in what gardens of the sun, At morning, breathe Your pleasant coldness ? Have you southward fled With spring to linger on the breezy shores Of Ebro, or the olive's leaf To paint with everlasting green On Tajo's banks r Perhaps, you sport upon the golden sands Of Niger, and, in heat meridian, dip Your wings upon Anzico's plains; Or, in the cocoa-vestur'd isles, Beyond the line, o 2 124 ODES. Kiss the young plantain, and to dance and song The simple natives call. O ! ministers Of health and medicines, that cure The soul with sickness, woe begone — O ! back return, And brace my languid limbs, and on my cheek, With hands benevolent, your crimson lay: Come, and repair the dreadful waste, Committed by the ruffian tribe, That rule the north. From the fair pastures of the bright-horn'd bull Descending, on the orient shafts of day, A thousand sylphs of heat are come To strew your grassy road with flowers, And bid you hail. Already has the primrose decked for you Her fragrant palaces, and wide unfolds Their vestibule with yellow doors. The purple-spotted orchis, too, Prepares his halls ODES, 125 Of curious workmanship, where you may spend Your festal mornings, or, beneath the gloom Of solitary midnight, rest In caves, that azure crystal seem To eyes like yours. Come, in the globe-flower's golden laver, wash Your little hands with dew-drops, and in seas Of evening tears, upon the leaves Of alchemilla, gently plunge Your beauteous limbs. Will you not sip the woodruff's od'rous lymph And banquet on th' ambrosia it affords? Will you not in the wortle # sit, And luscious nectar drink beneath Its ruby dome? O! you shall revel on Eliza's lip, Madden with rapture on its coral bloorn, * Vaccinium myrtillus, Billberry or Bleaberry* The ftamiaa of this fhrub form a very beautiful dome. 126 ODES, And, in her gentle eye, behold The infant softness of your forms Reflected bright. Come then, O genial winds, and in your way Visit the fairest fountains of the sky; And, in the hollow of your hands, Bring each a precious drop to cheer Returning spring. ODE 2. TO THE REV. J. COWPER. (hor. LIB. II. XIV.) How frail, dear Cowper, is the life of man ! How swiftly does it hasten to decay ! How vain our efforts to retard The revolutions of the year! No tears or prayers can stop the wheels of time; No eloquence avert the blow of death. Age clips the well-fledg'd wings of love, And hangs its frost on beauty's brow, ODES. 127 Where are the saints, that have escaped the grave ? The heroes, from whose mail the fatal dart, Blunted and ineffective fell ? Where is the philosophic sage, Who has outlived the idiots of his time ? And where the patriots, and the men of power, Whose policy, or solemn nod, The king of terror has disarmed ? Newton is dead, the pious Lowth no more ; And, in an awful hour, Trafalgar saw The robe of Nelson wet with gore. Thy shade, O Pitt, to heav'n is gone, And thine, Cornwallis, to a happy clime. All, that are born of woman — all, that feed On earthly fruit, must pass the gulph, That none have ever passed again. Our country, friends, and lovers must be left ; The throb of pleasure in our bosoms cooled ; And we, to those who dig our graves, Be just as if we ne'er had been. J28 ODES. ODE 3. TO THE REV. J. COWPER. Man is immortal, and the thirst, Unquench'd by ev'ry earthly draught, For happiness, that bums his breast, O Cowper, proves Th' unwasting essence of the soul. Why do the zephyrs wake the seeds Of slumbering violets, and bid The oak assume Its kingly honours ? Why, at morn, Does the fair handmaid of the day Unfold her everlasting doors Of ruby blaze, And yoke unto her father's car His neighing steeds ? And why with care, Performed with such unerring skill, Does yon pale orb ODES. 120 Increase and wane? And shall the mind, That reasons now on future things, Sink in the darkness of the grave, And cease to be : It is not so ! Beyond this earth, A shore there is, whose blooming flowers, In inextinguishable light, Their fragrance breathe : Where no rough flints our feet shall bruise, No thorns our angel flesh shall tear, No wicked men intrude to vex Our high-wrought joys But where unfading wreaths of bliss Shall bind our brows, and songs of praise Resound to Him, who bid the soul, For ever live. 13Q ODE*. ODE 4. TO A BEE. Little, humming, toiling bee, Type of Gare, from care yet free, Anxious not an hour to waste, Tell me, whither dost thou haste. Scarce the breath of rose-lip'd morn Whispers through that dewy thorn ; Silence still withholds her flight After lazy-footed Night; And no lark, with chearful lay, Wakes the hours of slumb'ring day : But thou com'st, on wings of toil, The lily's snowy bell to spoil ; And, from its beauteous locks, to steal Precious loads of yellow meal. ODES. 131 Harmless plunderer, speed thee well, Work and fill thy curious cell; Men, who rob, of life despoil ; But thou, with never-ceasing toil, Com'st, at late and early hour, To steal the sweets, but spare the flower, ODE 5. TO A LADY. See, Eliza, how that rill, Restless, wandering from the hill, .Never tired, or ever dry, Turning, winding, passes by. Listen to its murm'ring sound, Gently whispered all around; Hear how echo, from her cell, Babbles every idle swell. Sober evening, o'er the sky, Casts a robe of curious die ; 13& ODES. Tyrian purple, ruby red, All its western walls o'erspread ; On dark'ning towers, and mountains tall, Showers of feeble sunbeams fall ; The rills of moonlight, on the clouds, Seem like thin, translucent shrouds ; And many a glory-circled star Paves a way for Cynthia's car. In yon pines, in saddest wail, Turtles tell a love-sick tale; And a blackbird plies its lay On yon alder's dark'ning spray. Dear Eliza, as that rill Never wearies or is still, So our God will never cease On the good to shed his peace. As he clothes the heavens with light, And gems with stars the robe of night, ODES. 133 He will throw, from Mercy's seat, A ray to guide our erring feet. Let us, then, with souls of love, Like yon blackbird and yon dove, .Up to him, each evening, raise Hymns of gratitude and praise. finis. '//?•&> \X ERRATA. PAGE. LINE. 10 II for laid read lay 17 17 — least r. lest 31 15 && so 37 2- /or infinite, read infinite? 43 16 — with miserable r. with the miferabie 47 10 — sight r, sighs 58 7 — courtier's r. courtiers' 63 8 — pusue r. pursue 75 a — Bid r. Bade 99 4 — Odin's r. Selma's Akcnhcads, Printers^ Newcastle. LRB Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide Treatment Date: April 2009 PreservationTechnologies A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 1 1 1 Thomson Park Drive Cranberry Township, PA 16066 (724)779-2111