(':i .VsSSiCAJL POE^TRX 23z(rniy rtV/ €^(r/n^ey ti^Ay fZy^/tee^, ^^'^^/4^<^i>^/^<^x^^^r/^<^ CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY, FOR THE USE OF SCHOOLS, AND YOUNG PERSONS IN GENERAL. A NEW EDITION, REVISED AND IMPROVED, By WILLIAM MAVOR, LL.D. LONDON: PRINTED FOB LONGMAN, REES, ORME, BROWN AND GREEN PATERNOSTEH-BOW. 1827. Price 5s* Sd, hound. T^aMaaiTJs sli^sis^ krtssq ss^di to wrf fBscf 3?S£f msah E'dmnt.\A .-■-r > r.;v;T. ,.5V^;^^ Printed'by A. & E, Spottiswoodc?? New- Street- Square. ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIRST EDITION, Although there have been two or three partial Selections of English Poetry, there is still wanting an appropriate and comprehensive volume for the use of Schools, calculated to infuse into young persons a taste for the various beauties of poetical composition. The present offering to youth of both sexes, is a v/reath of flowers, culled from many a garden. In splendour of colour- ing, in sweetness of perfume, and in delicacy of structure, they must of course diiffer, according to the genius and the «oil'that originally produced them ; but they are all innoxious, and their sources warrant them to possess merit of the high- est estimation. The Poems in this volume are generally short, in order to give the utmost possible variety, and that they may be tha better suited for juvenile minds and memories. They exhibit models of affectionate regard, of tender recollection, of ele- gant description, of moral truth, and well-turned compliment on general subjects. They awake, however, no passion, ex* cept what the purest heart may feel ; and they fan no flame which youthful innocence need blush to own. This TENTH Editionthas been carefully revised, and some pieces, not in any former impression, have been inserted from living or recent poets of deserved eminence. Among the rest, are a few pieces from the pen of the late Mr. Pratt, my origi- nal coadjutor in compiling the volume. It is my wish, should the plan meet with encouragement, and health and life be allowed, to publish a Selection from the works of that esteemed poet and novelist, with Biographical and Critical Remarks. Woodstock, Jan, 1 823. W. MA VOR . 1 N TROD U G T I ON. THE NATURE, ORIGIN, and PROGRESS of POETRY Though many names of the first emineuce have sanctioneS the idea, that the essence of poetry consists in fiction, perhaps it would be better defined ** as the language of passion, or of *' enlivened imagination, formed most commonly into regular " numbers, according to the genius of every respective laii« ** guage, or its legitimate laws of versification." The primary aim of the poet is to please and to move. It is to the imagination and the passions that he addresses himself; and through them leads to amusement, instruction, or information.; It has been contended, and perhaps with truth, that poetry was antecedent to prose composition. Certain it is, that in \he very beginning of society, men used occasionally to assemble at feasts and sacrifices, when the song and the dance constituted their chief entertainment. Indeed in the infancy of all nations, there are found traces of poetic composition ; it is natural to the simplest and the purest minds, and forms the relish of ti*B most cultivated and civilized. : ''^• Apollo, Orpheus, and Amphion, first tamed the ferocity of the Greeks by their music and poetry. The Gothic natioi^ had their scalders, or poets ; and the Celtic tribes their bards^ The meetings of the North American savages are still distia-t guished by music and song. By these, all rude nations cele- brated their gods, their heroes, and their victories. Both their music and poetry abound in fire and enthusiasm ; they are wild, irregular, and glowing, like the genius of the people from which they flow. As mankind advances in civilization, poetry assumes a nevf character, and is diversified into different species. An approit^ priate end, a peculiar merit, and certain rules, are assigned tp each variety. The principal are pastoral, lyeic, didactic, DESCRIPTIVE, ELEGIAC, EPIC, and DRAMATIC, poctry. The' two last do not fall within our present plan to elucidate: the Others will be briefly characterized in order. The subsequent pages furnish numerous examples under each head, and there-^ fore it may gratify and instruct the student to compare the' execution with the design. 5""^ Sect. IL :^::rit ^ J, PASTORAL POETRY. ^^JO r fQE'HOUGH pastoral poetry probably was as ancient as separawf property^ and-the business of tending flocks and herds, it was not till cities were built, and mankind collected under laws, that this species of composition assumed its present form. From the tumult and bustle of crowded cities, men began to looK"; back with complacency and delight tO the Innocent amusements of rural hfe. In the court of Ptolemy, Theocritus wrote the ^rst pastorals that have descended to posterity; and in the court €)f Augustus, the divhie Virgil improved on the models hehad le^ 0F~ PASTORAt POETRY, V The pastoral irresistibly wins the heart, by recalling the objects of childhood and youth, and painting the gay scenes of uncorrupt nature. It wakes the image of a life to which c-i*e associate the ideas of innocence, peace, and ease: it trans- ports us into the loveliest regions; it lays hold on objects in which nature appears in her primitive beauty and simplicity. The pastoral poet is careful to exhibit whatever is most pleasing in the pastoral state. He paints its simple manners, it^ tranquil repose, its enviable happiness ; but it is his study to conceal its rudeness and misery. His pictures are froni real life, but he rejects whatever may disgust. The scene must invariably be laid in the country, and the pastoral poet must possess a talent for rural description. To succeed, he must paint with distinctness, and give appropriate imagery. His landscape must resemble what a good painter would figure on canvas. In his allusions to natural objects, as well as in professed descriptions of scenery, he should endeavour to be clear and various, and even to diversify the face of nature. The scenery ^ould also be suited to the subject of the pastoral, in order to preserve unity of design. ,« v InTegard to characters, which form the most prominent ob- jects in pastorals, they must be actually shepherds, or persons wholly engaged in rural occupations. The shepherd must be plain and unaffected, without being dull and insipid. He must havegood sense and vivacity, delicacy and feeling* butheshould confine himself to subjects with which he may naturally be sup- posed to be conversant, and avoid refinement and conceit. With respect to the subjects of pastorals, much tasteis neces- sary. It is not enough that thepoet should engage his shepherds in general conversation : there must be an interesting topic, adapted to their situations. The passions of mankind are nearly the same in every sphere; but they are modified by situation and character. The shepherd has his ambition and his pride, his disquiet and his felicity, his rivalries, his successes, and mis- ^rriages, all which are proper topics for the pastoral muse. . At the head of this kind of writing- stand Theocritus and Virgil. The former, however, displays a simplicity bordering en rudeness : the latter, with infinite simplicity and grace, sometimes touches the verge of affected refinement. The modern pastoral poets have generally imitated or blended those two great prototypes. We shall advert only to those of our own country. Pope and PbiVlips have chiefly distinguished themselves in this line of composition. Pope is principally distinguished for smoothness of versification and harmony Of numbers. His incidents are few, and his shepherds, like his lines, have an uniform equality,; Phillips attempted to copy nature more closely ; but he had not genius to render her atwj tractive. Low images offend as much in his characters, as nffected refinement m those of Pope. Perhaps Shenstone's pastoral ballad is one of the inOBt perfect poems in this species of writing in our language j if we except Allan' Ramsay's Gentle Shepherd, which is without a parallel for tenderness of sentiment, affecting incident and justness and propriety of painting. The Doric dialect in which it is written, sets off its other graces; and gives it a charm which no other pastoral poem will ever attain. Some beautif*^ shortpastorals will be found interspersed in this volume. ''-a The ode is a very ancient and dignified species of poetife composition, and means a song or hymn ; while lyric poetryjiii^ its general acceptation, indicates verses which may be accom- panied by the lyre, or some other musical instrument. r The ode still retains its original form and designation. Inf spirit and execution lie its principal beauties : it admits of a happy irregularity, and a high degree of enthusiasm on sub*' jects of sentiment rather than of action. Blair classes odes under four denomhiations. — I. Hymna to the Supreme Being, and relating to religious subjects. II. Heroic Odes, in celebration of heroes and splendid actions, III. Moral and Philosophical Odes, which refer chiefly to virtue, sriendship, and humanity. IV. Festive and amatory Odes, which are written and applied to promote conviviality, or to paint the passions of love and the enchantments of beauty. Enthusiasm is justly allowed as being characteristic of the ode ; but numbers have erred from taking this privilege iu top great latitude ; and hence have thought themselves at liberty to indulge in any eccentricities, and to become irregular and obscure. It is not necessary indeed that the structure of the ode should be raised on principles of measured exactness ; but \n every work of genius, whether short or long, the parts should bear an intimate relation to the whole, and a visible bond of connexion should be preserved. The transition fronj thought to thought may be rapid and vivid, but the chakiJ^f, ideas should nevertheless be unbroken. 1", Pindar, the father of lyric poetry, by the daring flights of his genius has led his imitators into wildness and rant. They catch his disorder, without the spirit. Horace, on the other hand, is correct, harmonious, and happy. Grace and elegance appear in all his compositions. He treats a moral sentiment with dignity, touches a gay one with felicity, and is even agree- able when he trifles. In short, he is the most perfect model for lyric poets. In our own language, we have numerous odes of exquisite beauty. Dry den, Gray, Collins, Scott, Langhorne, and many others, need only be named to prove how successfully lyric poetry has been cultivated in this country. Yet it must be xspnfessed, more silly pieces are published undei the name of odes, than of any other species of poetry. Every person, who can rhyme, thinks himself qualified to write a song, or com- plimentary ode ; but the general failure sha.JK^>^thiat-;iia^a8^0t .•oeasy as many are led to Tmagiiie.,: )b bat'ioi* -mU aJ ^aibl<^ op.a>n)i;jiiTic iDETRY. ril ii;TaE express design of didactic poetry is to convey know- ledge and instruction, Tiiis species of composition adoiits ojf^ 6ousiderable variety in the mode of execution, the length, the style, the measure, and other qualities : but the inteiition musfe; be uniformly to make us wiser and better. In the higher classes of didactic poetry, stand the books of Lucretius on the Nature of Things ; the Georgics of Virgil ; the Pleasures of Imagination, by Akenside; Armstrong on Health, and Horace, Vida, Boileau, and Pope, on Criticism, ^iln all these works instruction is the avowed object ; yet the poet must not forget to enliven his lessons by figures, inci- dents, and poetical delineations. Virgil is peculiarly happy in this respect. Instead of tamely informing us that a farmer must begin his labours in the spring, he expresses himself in tlie following animated manner. While yet the spring is youngf, while earth unbinds Her frozen bosom to the western winds -, While mountain snows dissolve against the sun, -:, And streams yet new from precipices run ; ' Ev'n in this early dawning of tlie jear, Produce the plough, and yoke the sturdy steer. And goad him till he groans beneath his toil, Till the bright share is buried in the soil. Didactic poetry requires method and arrangement, so that the precepts it enforces may follow in connected order, and mutually strengthen each other. Episodes and embellishments may, however, be freely used, when a co-Telative to the pri* mary design. The digressions in the Georgics, such as the happiness of a rural life, the fable of Aristeus, and the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, are above all praise. Among modern didactic poets, who have done honour to Britain, Akenside and Armstrong rank very high. The former possessed a rich poetical imagination, and a pomp of diction equal to the sublimity of the ideas it clothes. The latter is more equable, and chiefly remarkable for a chaste and correct elegance. Under didactic poetry, satires and epistles are naturally- classed. Without adverting to the ancients who have distin- guished themselves in this walk. Pope furnishes the most per- fect models in both lines of composition. Nor is Young to be passed over without notice. He possessed an exuberance of fancy, but his genius was not always under the control of taste and judgment. His Universal Passion has much merit^ aid there are many passages in his Night Thoughts which #puld do honour to any poet. - Of short didactic poems, we have furnished some delightful i^ecimens, which it cannot be necessary to particularize. Ca Sect. V. .-f- DESCRIPTIVE POETRY. *90figcsiPTiVE poetry, taken in a limited and local Sense, ad* cording to the correct definition of Dr. Johnson, " is a species trM OP ^CRtiPf WE POETIIY. ** of composition, of which the fundamental subject is some ** particular landscape to be poetically described, with the ad- " dition of such embellishments as may be supplied by histo- ** rical retrospection, or incidental meditation/' Of tbis kind are Denham's Cooper's Hill, and Pope's Windsor Forest. Descriptive poetry, however, without relation to place, is among the higher efforts of genius, and is frequently mixed with every other species. It is the test of poetic imagination, and distinguishes an original genius from a mere copyist. A true poet places the object he would paint before our eyes. He gives it the genuine colours of life, and affords subjects from which the painter may draw. llie great art of picturesque description lies in the selection of suitable circumstances, properly applied. In describing a grand object, every circumstance should tend to raise and i'u- .noble : in depicting a gay object, all the circumstances should conspire to beautify. The most capital descriptive poem in our own, and perhaps in any language, ancient or modern, is Thomson's Seasons. Possessed of a feeling heart, and a warm imagination, Thom- son, enamoured of nature, painted her with the enthusiasm of a lover who had been admitted to the enjoyment of her beau- ties. His work is replete with picturesque imagery, and in .such a galaxy of glowing charms, it is difficult to select one more captivating than another. Take, however, the following passage, which displays the hand of a master in an exquisite degree. It is founded on the general mortahty which seized the English Fleet, under Admiral Vernon, lying before Carthagena: You, gallant Vernon, saw The miserable scene : you pitying; saw To infant weakness sunk the warrior's arm ; Saw the deep-racking pang : the ghastly form j ' The lip pale quiv'ring, and the beamless eye No more with ardour bright; you heard the groans Of agonizing ships from shore to shore ; is Heard nightly plnng'd amid the sullen waves, ff The frequent corse. r. All the circumstances which this great poet has selected^5&n the occasion, heighten the dismal scene: the last adraifsaof nothing beyond it. • ?• 3 Parnell's Tale is a fine example of descriptive narrative ; afci Milton's Allegro and Penseroso leave us satisfied, that the ef- fect of this species of poetry can be carried no farther. What Vivid colouring shmes in these lines from Penseroso ! 1 walk, unseen, On the dry, smooth-shaven green, To hehold the wandering moon ' Riding near her highest noon ; ,.p And oft, as if her head she bo w'd, StjQoping through a fleecy cloud. .1.,., Oft on a plat of rising ground, -^'-^ii;; I hear the far-ofr" curfew sound, oigaBq :!rr=,^ Ovcr sonic wide-watcr'd shoic, ] a^ tgmwofi Swinging slow with solemn rorr: vbobm silj siidw sjaOE ^8l0i. if the aif will n©t permit^idw lo ■ ^opjiiaogmoa 1o^* ■»!)£ i>&: Some still removed place will fitjr^r-mHhaBl imiqiiiBq **^ =cl? "Where glowing' embers throua^h tlieroomya v nnsiih s» bn' Teach fiuht to counlerfeit a gloom ; .ll^LliJX''i> ' ■ Far from all resort of mirthy ^S^ ^X^^ " Save the cricket on the hearth, ^^1^^^ mtBda^Q sip . f r Or the bellman's drowsy charm, "^-nq 9r?riqnpg9CI - m:i. *Y^ bless th€ doors from nightly harm ; '-■^^d srfi gfiorri« * ^aoh Or let my lamp at midnight hour ilo ?°£373 dilw , A Be seen, in some high lonely tow'r, - ^itVifc W „a.j , Exploring Plato, to unfold "^7 ^ ' *io^ What worlds, or what vast regions, hoW j^ocf 9im ' ^^ Th' immortal mind that hath Forsook : ' t, yjti 1^ Her mansion in this fleshy nook ; :^'t(ytk noilos.ssAnd of those demons that are fonnd f £ ^ In fire, air, flood, or under ground. ; If^ r'feoth Homer and Virgil, among the auciertts, excel in poetfel iSescription, and hence the charm of their compositions. Ossian too paints in colom-s of fire, and opens every avenue to the heart: "I have seen the walls of Balcliitha; but they are de-; /' solate. The fire hath resounded within the walls; and the " voice of the people is now heard no more. The stream of " Clutha was removed from its place by the fall of the walls ; " the thistle shook there its lonely head ; the moss whistled to ** the wind. The fcfx looked out of the window ; the rank grass ** waved round his head. Desolate is the dwelling of Moina ; " silence is in the house of her fathers." Much of the beauty of descriptive poetry depends on a propsr choice of epithets ; but no rules can teach their appli- cation: "A poet is born, not made." Sect. VI. ELEGIAC POETRY. The Elegy is a mixed species of poetic composition. In its character it is mournful and plaintive, yet sweet and engaging. It was first used to bewail the loss of friends and relations ; and afterwards employed to express the complaints of lovers, or any other melancholy subject. In process of time, not only grief, but joy, wishes, prayers, expostulations, reproaches, ad- monitions, and almost every subject were admitted into Elegy. Its chief end, however, is well defined in the following lilies fe'omBoileau; i^if «i ' "'T^he plaintive Elegy, in mournful slate, ;; io iasl:* Dishevell'd weeps the stern decrees of fate, ogi hiiif Now paints the lover's torments and delights ; Now the nymph flatters, threat€«S9 or invites; But he who would these passions well e^^press, Must more of love than poesy possess. In the Elegy, all must be solemn and dignified. No epigranv- matic points or conceits can be admitted. Nature and the passions alone should prevail : the language ought to be pure, flowing, and impressive ; and the sentiments reiich the heart, while the melodv of the v-erse strikes the ear. 1% X OP recita¥i6k. : Grray*8 Eleffy in a country cburch-yard is a master-piece ia this species of poetry. Hammond's love elegies are elegant, but too mucli on the model of Tibullus ; they possess affected ornaments, which genuine passion disclaims. Shenstone's Elegies are deservedly admired; but they are frequently dis- figured by point and antithesis. To -enumerate all the beautiful Elegies in our own language, would be impossible. Scarcely an author of reputation but has written one or more; and several, giving way to the impulse of tender passions, have succeeded in classic composition, wh<^ have failed in more elaborate attempts. S^^TTVII. f im.- ENGLISH VERSIFICATION, ,^^ 3^^ ^^ #'' AND THE MANNER OP EEADING IT* , . ' .5-^.? k,.^ To adopt all the distinctions of feet, or long and short &yi* lables, used by the Greeks and Romans, would only confound, nor do they accord with the genius of our language. Mere quantity, indeed, has very little effect in English versification. The only perceptible difference among our syllables, is occa- sioned by a stronger percussion of the voice on some of them,^ ; which is termed accent. This accent, however, does not lengthen the syllable: it communicates only additional force of sound. It is upon a certain order and succession of ac- c , yPOPE. A^-V^£- GRATITUDE. WHEN all thy mercies, O my God ! My rising soul surveys. Transported with the view, I'm lost In wonder, love, and praise. CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY- O how shall words, with equal warmth. The gratitude declare. That glows within mj^ ravish'd heart ? But thou canst read it there. Thy Providence my life sustained, And all my wants rsdrest. When in the silent womb I lay. And hung upon the breast. To all my weak complaints and cries. Thy mercy lent an ear. Ere yet m}^ feeble thoughts had learnt To form themselves in pray'r. Unnumber'd comforts to my soul Thy tender care bestow'd. Before my infant heart conceiv'd From whom those comforts flow'd. When in the slipp'ry paths of youth. With heedless steps I ran, Thine arm, unseen, convey'd me safe. And led me up to man. Thro' hidden dangers, toils, and death. It gently clear'd ray- way ; And thro' the pleasing snares of vice. More to be fear'd than they. W^hen worn with sickness, oft hast thoii With health renew'd my face. And when in sin and son-ow sunk, Reviv'd my soul with grace. Thy bounteous hand, with worldly bliss, Has made my cup run o'er ; And, in a kind and faithful friend; Has doubled all my store. Ten thousand, thousand precious gifts. My daily thanks employ ; Nor is the least, a cheerful heart. That tastes those gifts with joy. Thro' ev'ry period of my life. Thy goodness I'll pursue ; And after death, in distant worlds. The glorious theme renew. 24 ^ Thy mercy shall ador^ ^^^^^ ^uiiT Thro' all eternity, to Thee^- ' A joyful song I'll raise ; For O ! Eternity's too short To utter all thy praise. Addison. HOPE AND FEAR. WHERE shall our Hope and Fear their objects find.? Must dull suspense corrupt the stagnant mirtd ? Must helpless man, in ignorance sedate, .^ Fall darkling down the torrent of his fate } ] '^* Must no dislike alarm — no wishes rise ? . 7 _ No cries invoke the mercies of the skies? : Inquirer cease — petitions yet remain, , . WTiich heav'n may hear, nor deem religion vaiffi Still raise for good the supplicating voice, ., , But leave to heav'n the measure and the choice,; Safe in his pow'r whose eyes discern afar, ' The secret ambush of a specious pray'rl . ,^4 Implore his aid — in his decisions rest '* Secure — whate'er he gives he gives the best ; , 7^ Yet when the sense of sacred presence fires^ And sti'ong devotion to the sky aspires. Pour forth thy fervours for a healthful mind. Obedient passions and a will resign'd ; For Love, which scarce collective man can fill. For Patience, sovereign o'er transmuted ill : For Faith, that panting for a happier seat. Counts Death kind Nature's signal for retreat. These goods for man the laws of heav'n ordain. These goods he grants who grants the power to gain. With these celestial Wisdom calms the mind, ^ And makes the happiness she does not fmd! johnson. SUPPOSED TO BE WRITTEN BY ALEXANDER SELKIRK, During his solitary abode in the Island of Juan Fernandez. - / I AM monarch of all I survey, ^ My right there is none to dispute ; From the centre all round to the sea, I am lord of the fowl and the brute. CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 25 Solitude ! where are the charms That sages have seen in thy face? Better dwell in the midst of alarms. Than reign in this horrible place. 1 am out of Humanity's reach, I must finish my journey alone ; Never hear the sweet music of speech ; I start at the sound of ray own. The beasts that roam over the plain My form with indifference see : They are so unacquainted with man. Their tameness is shocking to me. , Society, friendship, and love. Divinely bestow'd upon man, O had I the wings of a dove. How soon would I taste you again ! My sorrows I then might assuage In the way of Religion and Truth; Might learn from the wisdom of age. And be cheer'd by the sallies of youth. Religion ! what treasure untold Resides in that heavenly word ! More precious than silver or gold. Or all that this earth can afford. But the sound of the church-going bell These valleys and rocks never heard, Ne'er sigh'd at the sound of a knell, Or smil'd when a Sabbath appear'd. S Ye winds that have made me your sport. Convey to this desolate shore Some cordial endearing report Of a land I shall visit no more. My friends, do they now and then send A wish or a thought after me ? O tell me I yet have a friend, Tho' a fi-iend I am never to see ! C How fleet is a glance of the mind ! Compar'd with the speed of its flight. The tempest itself lags behind. And the swift-winged arrows of light C 2§ CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. When I think of my own native land. In a moment I seem to be there ; But, alas ! recollection at hand Soon hurries me back to despair. But the sea-fowl is gone to her nest. The beast is laid down in his lair ; Ev'n here is a season of rest. And I to my cabin repair. There's mercy in every place ; And mercy (encouraging thought !) Gives even affliction a grace, And reconciles man to his lot. cowper. 'f //? THE SOLAR SYSTEM. YE citadels of light and seats of gods. Perhaps my future home, from whence the soul Revolving periods past may oft look back With recollected tenderness on all The various busy scenes she left below. Its deep-laid projects, and its strange events. As on some fond and doating tale that sooth'd Her infant hours. — O ! be it lawful now To tread the hallow'd circle of your courts. And with mute wonder and delighted awe. Approach your burning confines. Seiz'd in thought On fancy's wild and roving wing, I sail From the green borders of the peopled Earth, : And the pale Moon her duteous fair attendant ; From solitary Mars, from the vast orb Of Jupiter, whose huge gigantic bulk Dances in ether like the lightest leaf To the dim verge the suburbs of the system ; Where cheerless Saturn, 'mid his wat'ry moons. Girt with a lucid zone, majestic sits In gloomy grandeur, like an exil'd queen Amongst her weeping handmaids : fearless thence I launch into the trackless deeps of space. Where burning round ten thousand suns appear Of elder beam, which ask no leave to shine Of our terrestrial star, nor borrow light From the proud regent of our scanty day. Sons of the morning ! first born of creation ! CLASSICAt. ENGLISH POETllY. 27 And only less than Him who marks their track And guides their fiery wheels. Here must I stop — Or, is there aught beyond ? What hand unseen Impels me onward thro' the glowing orbs Of habitable nature far remote. To the dread confines of eternal night ; To solitudes of vast unpeopled space, The deserts of creation wide and wild ; Where embryo systems and unkindled suns Sleep in the womb of Chaos ? Fancy droops : And Thought, astonished, stops her bold career ! But O ! thou mighty Mind ! whose powerful word Said — " Thus let all things be, and thus they were !" Where shall I seek thy presence? how unblam'd Invoke thy dread perfection ? Have the broad eye-lids of the morn beheld thee ? Or does the beamy shoulder of Orion Support thy throne ? O look with pity down On erring guilty man ! — not in thy names Of terror clad — not with those thunders arm'd That conscious Sinai felt when fear appall'd The scatter'd tribes ! Thou hast a gentler voice That whispers comfort to the swelling heart, Abash'd, yet longing to behold her Maker ! But now my soul unus'd to stretch her pow'rs In flights so daring, drops her weary wing, And seeks again the known accustom'd spot, Drest up with sun and shade, and lawns and streams, A mansion fair, and spacious for its guest. And full replete with wonders! Let me here Content and grateful wait the appointed time. And ripen for the skies : — ^the hour will come When all these splendours bursting on my sight. Shall stand unveil'd, and to my ravish'd sense Unlock the glories of the World unknown ! BARBAULD, THE FIELD OF BATTLE. FAINTLY bray'd the battle's roar. Distant down the hollow wind ; Panting Terror fled before. Wounds and Death were left behind. C2 28 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. The war-fiend curs'd the sunken da^^a iesiC -That check'd his fierce pursuit too so6n ; While, scarcely lighting to the prey. Low hung, and lour'd, the bloody moon. The field, so late the hero's pride. Was now with various carnage spread ; And floated with a crimson tide. That drench'd the dying and the dead. . - O'er the sad scene of dreariest \dew, Abandoned all to horrors wild, With frantic step Maria flew — Maria, Sorrow's early child By duty led, for every vein Was warm'd by Hymen's purest flame ! With Edgar, o'er the wint'ry main. She, lovely, faithful wanderer, came. For well she thought, a friend so dear In darkest hours might joy impart ; Her warrior, faint with toil, might cheer. Or soothe her bleeding warrior's smart. Tho' look'd for long — in chill affright, (The torrent bursting ft-om her eye,) She heard the signal for the fight — r While her soul trembled in a sigh : She heard, and clasp'd him to her breast. Yet scarce could urge th' inglorious stay ; His manly heart the charm confest— Then broke the charm, and rush'd away» Too soon, in few but deadly words. Some flying straggler breath'd to tell. That in the foremost strife of swords The young, the gallant Edgar fell. She press'd to hear — she caught the tale — At every sound her blood congeal'd ; With terror bold — ^with terror pale. She sprung to search the fatal field. O'er the sad scene in dire amaze She went — with courage not her own— ^ On many a corpse she cast her gaze — And turn'd her ear to many a groan. ^ CLASSICAL ENGLISH PGETRVP 2§ Drear anguish urged her to press " ^-^-'^' ©^l Full many a hand, as wild she mouni'd; — Of comfort glad, the drear caress The damp, cliill, dying hand return'd. - Her ghastly hope was well nigh fled— When late pale Edgar's form she found, Half-bury'd with the hostile dead. And bor'd with many a grisly wound. She knew — she sunk— the night-bird scream'd, — The moon withdrew her troubled light. And left the fair — tho' fall'n she seem'd— To worse than death — and deepest ni^ht ? / PENROSE. /^ TRUE WISDOM. O HAPPY is the man who heai*s Instruction's warning voice. And who celestial Wisdom makes His early, only choice ! For she has treasures greater far Than east or west unfold. And her reward is more secure Than is the gain of gold. Ill her right hand she holds to view A lengtli of happy years ; And in her left, the prize of fame And honour bright appears. She guides the young, with innocence. In Pleasure's path to tread ; A crown of glory she bestows Upon the hoary head. According as her labours rise. So her rewards increase ; Her ways are ways of pleasantness, And all her paths ai-e peace. ^ logan.^^^ ODE on the spring. , LO ! where the rosy-bosom'd hours. Fair Venus' train, appear, Disclose the long-expected flowers. And wake the purple year I C3 rv // so CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETHS" , The Attic warbler pours her throat. Responsive to the cuckoo's note. The untaught harmony of Spring ; While, whispering pleasure as they fly. Cool zephyrs thro* the clear blue sky Their gathered fragrance fling. Where'er the oak's thick branches stretch A broader, browner shade ; Where'er the rude and moss-grown beech O'er- canopies the glade ; Beside some water's rushy brink With me the muse shall sit, and think (At ease reclin'd in rustic state) How vain the ardour of the crowd ! How low, how little are the proud I How indigent the great ! Still is the toiling hand of Care, The panting herds repose ; Yet, hark, how thro' the peopled air The busy murmur glows ! The insect youth are on the wing. Eager to taste the honey'd Spring, And float amid the liquid noon : Some lightly o'er the current skim ; Some show their gaily gilded trim Quick glancing to the sun. To Contemplation's sober eye Such is the race of man ; And they that creep, and they that fly. Shall end where they began. Alike the busy and the gay But flutter thro' life's little daj^ In Fortune's varying colours drest : Brush'd by the hand of rough mischance. Or chill'd by age, their airy dance They leave, in dust to rest. Methinks I hear in accents low The sportive kind reply ; Poor moralist ! and what art thou ? A solitary fly ! Thy joys no glittering female greets. No hive hast thou of hoarded sweets. CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. SI No painted plumage to display : On hasty v^ings thy youth is flown. Thy sun is set, thy spring is gone — We frolic while 'tis May. gray. LINES FROM SENECA. THE dizzy dome be his who will : Be mine the shade, obscure and still. Here while the great in public pine. Be dulcet rest and leisure mine. Unknown to all the sons of pride. Smooth may ray hours in silence glide. So, when the close of life draws near. Without a trouble or a fear, Unnotic'd by the v/orld, may I An aged but a poor man die ! Heavy the stroke of death must fall On him who, conversant with all. Where'er he turns his anxious eyes. Yet to himself a stranger, dies ! polwhele. THE HERMITAGE. A LITTLE lowly Hermitage it was, Down in a dale, hard by a forest side. Far from resort of people that did pass In travel to and fro ! a httle wide There was a little chapel edified. Wherein the hermit duty went to say His holy things, each mom and even-tide : Thereby a crystal stream did gently play. Which from a sacred fountain welled forth away. He thence led me into this Hermitage, Letting his steeds to graze upon the green ; Small was his house, and like a little cage For his own turn ; yet inly neat and clean, Deck'd with green boughs, and flowers gay beseenie; Therein he them full fair did entertain. Not with such forged shows as fitter beene For courtly fools, that courtesies would feign. But with entire affection, and appearance plain. SPENSER. C 4 ■■ CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. THE BOY AND THE RAINBOW. DECLARE, ye sages, if ye find 'Mongst animals of ev'ry kind. Of each condition, sort, and size, From whales and elephants to flieS;, A creature that mistakes his plan. And errs so constantly as Man ? Each kind pursues his proper good. And seeks for pleasure, rest, and food As Nature points, and never errs In what it chooses and prefers ; Man only blunders, tho' possest Of talents far above the rest. The happiness of human kind Consists in rectitude of mind, A will subdu'd to Reason's sway. And passions practis'd to obey ; An open and a gei/rous heart, iRefin'd from selfishness and art ; Patience which mocks at Fortune's pow'r. And Wisdom never sad nor sour : In these consists our proper bliss. Else Plato reasons much amiss. But foolish mortals still pursue False happiness in place of true : Ambition serves us for a guide. Or lust, or avarice, or pride ; While Reason no assent can gain. And Revelation warns in vain. Hence, thro' our lives, in ev'ry stage From infancy itself to age, A happiness we toil to find. Which still avoids us like the wind ; Ev'n when we think the prize our own, At once 'tis vanish'd, lost and gone. You'll ask me why I thus rehearse All Epictetus in my verse. And if I fondly hope to please With dry reflections such as these. So trite, so hackney'd, and so stale ?— I'll take the hint and tell a tale. CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 3^ One ev'ning as a simple swain His fiock attended on the plain, ^ The shining Bow he chanc'd to spy, Which warns us when a show'r is nigh ; With brightest rays it seem'd to glow, Its distance eighty yards or so. This bumpkin had, it seems, been told The story of the cup of gold. Which Fame reports is to be found Just where the Rainbow meets the grouna He therefore felt a sudden itch To seize the goblet, and be rich ! Hoping (yet hopes are oft but vain) No more to toil thro' wind and rain. But sit indulgent by the fire, 'Midst ease and plenty, like a squire. He mark'd the very spot of land On which the Rainbow seem'd to stand. And stepping forwards at his leisure. Expected to have found the treasure. But as he mov'd, the colour'd ray Still chang'd its place, and slipt away As seeming his approach to shun. From walking he began to run ; But all in vain, it still withdrew As nimbly as he could pursue. At last, thro' many a bog and lake. Rough craggy rock, and thorny brake, It led the easy fool till night Approach'd, then vanish'd in his sight. And left him to compute his gains. With nought but labour for his pains. wilkie. CHARITY SCHOOLS. LET not a form which bears your Maker's image Defeat the end of being :— know 'tis yours In heav'nly tints to dip the infant soul— To raise the new idea — lift it high, Ey'n to Jehovah's throne : the ductile mind,. Pliant as wax, shall' wear the mould you give. ' Sharp gratitude you've call'd to life shall cut In ciphers deep the new expanded heart ; And ev'n beyond the chambers of the grave C5 M CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. The joyous spirit shall your records bear. To meet your eyes when trembling worlds expire ! What then shall live or stand in that dread hour But acts like these, when panting spirits call For every little test to aid their plea ? May yours resound, supported in the blast By grateful infants and by ripen'd man. To whom you gave perfection ! Angels smile. And songs of glory shake the vault of heaven ! ANN YEARSLEY, THE ROSE. THE Rose had been wash'd, just wash'd in a show'r^ Which Mary to Anna convey'd, The plentiful moisture incumbered the flower. And weighed down its beautiful head. The cup was all fill'd, and the leaves were all wet. And it seem'd to a fanciful view. To weep for the buds it had left with regret. On the flourishing bush where it grew, I hastily seiz'd it, unfit as it was For a nosegay, so dripping and drown'd. And swinging it rudely (too rudely, alas !) I snapp'd it, — it fell to the ground. And such, I exclaim'd, is the pitiless part Some act by the delicate mind. Regardless of wringing and breaking a heart Already to sorrow resign'd. This elegant Rose, had I shaken it less. Might have bloom'd with its owner awhile ; And the tear that is wip'd, with a little address, May be followed, perhaps, by a smile. eowpEs. Life. O WHY do wretched men so much desire To draw their days into the utmost date. And do not rather wish them soon expire. Knowing the misery of their estate. CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 35 And thousand perils which them still await. Tossing them like a boat amid the main. That every hour they knock at death's gate? And he that happy seems at least in pain. Is yet as nigh his end as he that most doth plain. The whiles some one did chaunt their lovely lay. Ah see, who so fair thing dost fain to see. In springing flower the image of thy day ; All see the virgin rose how sweetly she Doth first peep forth with bashful modesty. That fairer seems, the less you see her may ; Lo ! see soon after, how more bold and free Her bared bosom she doth broad display ! Lo ! see, soon after, how she fades and falls away. So passeth, in the passing of a day. Of mortal Life the leaf, the bud, the flower, No more doth flourish after first decay. That erst was sought to deck both bed and bower Of many a lady, and many a paramour : Gather the rose of love whilst yet is time. While loving thou may'st loved be without a crime. SPENSER. THE HAMLET. THE hinds how blest, who ne'er beguil'd To quit their Hamlet's hawthorn- wild. Nor haunt the crowd, nor tempt the main. For splendid care and guilty gain ! When morning's twilight-tinctur'd beam Strikes their low thatch with slanting gleam. They rove abroad in ether blue. To dip the sithe in fragi'aut dew ; The sheaf to bind, the beech to fell. That, nodding, shades a craggy dell. 'Midst gloomy glades, in warbles clear. While Nature's sweetest notes they hear. On green untrodden banks they view The hyacinth's neglected hue. In their lone haunts, and woodland rounds. They spy the squirrel's airy bounds ; 6 36 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. And startle from her ashen spray. Across the glen, the screaming jay. Each native charm their steps explore Of Solitude's sequester'd store. For them the moon, with cloudless ray. Mounts to illume their homeward way ; Their weary spirits to relieve. The meadows incense breathe at eve. No riot mars the simple fare That o'er a glimmering hearth they share ; But when the curfew's measur'd roar Duly, the darkening valleys o'er. Has echoed from the distant town. They wish no beds of cygnet-down. No trophied canopies, to close Their drooping eyes in quick repose. Their little sons, who spread the bloom Of health around the clay-built room. Or thro' the primros'd coppice stray, Or gambol in the new-mown hay. Or quaintly braid the cowslip-twine, Or drive afield the tardy kine : Or hasten from the sultry hill To loiter at the shady rill ; Or climb the tall pine's gloomy crest, To rob the ancient raven's nest. Their humble porch with honey'd flowers The curling woodbine's shade embowers : From the small garden's thymy mound Their bees in busy swarms resounds Nor fell Disease, before his time. Hastes to consume Life's golden prim« : But when their temples long have wore The silver crown of tresses hoar ; As studious still calm peace to keep. Beneath a flowery turf they sleep. warton. THE winter nosegay. WHAT Nature, alas ! has denied To the delicate growth of our Isle, Art has in a measure supplied. And Winter is deck'd with a smile. GliASBlCAL ENGLISH POETRY. 3 / 'Tis a bower of Arcadian sweets, lnB:ra £)K Where Flora is till in her prime, A fortress to which she retreats From the cruel assaults of the clime. While earth wears a mantle of snow. The pinks are as fresh and as gay As the fairest and sweetest that blow On the beautiful bosom of May. See how they have safely survived The frowns of a sky so severe ; Such Mary's true love, that has liv'd Thro' many a turbulent year. The charms of the late-blowing rose Seem pac'd with a livelier hue. And the winter of soitow but shows The truth of a friend such as you. cowper. THE YOUNG LADY AND THE LOOKlNG-GLvlSS. THERE was a little stubborn dame Whom no authority could tame ; Restive by long indulgence grown. No will she minded but her own : At trifles oft she'd scold and fret. Then in a corner take a seat. And sourly moping all the day, Disdain alike to work or play. Papa all softer arts had try'd. And sharper remedies apply'd ; But both were vain, for every course He took still made her worse and worse. 'Tis strange to think how female wit So oft should make a lucky hit. When man, with all his high pretence , To deeper judgment, sounder sense. Will err, and measures false pursue ! 'Tis very strange, I own, but true. Mamma observ'd the rising lass By stealth retiring to the glass. To practise little airs unseen. In the true genius of thirteen : On this a deep design she laid To tarae the humour of the maid : SB CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. Contriving, like a prudent mother, To make one folly cure another. Upon the wall against the seat. Which Jessy us'd for her retreat. Whene'er by accident offended, A Looking-glass was straight suspended. That it might show her how deform'd She look'd and frightful when she storm'd ; And warn her, as she priz'd her beauty. To bend her humour to her duty : All this the Looking-glass achiev'd. Its threats were minded and believ'd. The maid, who spurn'd at all advice. Grew tame and gentle in a trice : So when all other means had fail'd. The silent monitor prevail'd. Thus, fable to the human kind Presents an image of the mind : It is a mirror, where we spy At large our own deformity. And learn, of course, those faults to mend. Which but to mention would offend. wilkie. THE CHARACTER OF LELIUS. YON spacious dome, which earth and sea commands. Where Lelius dresses his paternal lands ; Where water gushes, and where wood extends. To share each beauty, Lelius calls his friends ;— A desert scene, till they adorn his bowers; A naked waste, till they partake his flowers ; Nor this, though sweet, the greatest bliss he feels. That greatest bliss his modesty conceals. Pass the green slope which bounds his fair domain. And seek the valley, dropping from the plain. There, in a blossom'd nook, by pomp unseen. An aged couple lead a life serene ; And there behind those elms, a sickly pair Exchange their labours for a softer care : 'Twas Lelius gave to sickness this repose. And plac'd life's second cradle near the rose. Though louder joys in his own hall prevail, A dearer transport whispers from the vale; CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. SQ Though mirth and frolic echo through the dome, In those small cots his bosom finds a home. Fame, fortune, friends — can providence give more ? Go, ask of Heav'n the blessings of the poor ! Would you a greater comfort still supply ? Go, wipe the tear from Sorrow's streaming eye ; For social kindness to another shewn. Expands the bliss to make it more your own. pratt. FAREWELL TO LIFE. Now spring returns — but not to me returns The vernal joy my better years have known ; Dim in my breast life's dying taper burns, And all the joys of life with health are flown : Starting and shiv'ring in th' inconstant wind, Meagre and pale the ghost of what I was ; Beneath some blasted tree I lie reclin'd. And count the silent moments as they pass ; The winged moments, whose unstaying speed No art can stop, or in their course arrest ; Whose flight shall shortly count me with the dead. And lay me down in peace with them that rest ' Oft morning-dreams presage approaching fate. And morning-dreams, as poets tell, are true : Led by pale ghosts I enter death's dark gate. And bid the realms of light and life adieu ! I hear the helpless wail, the shriek of woe ; I see the muddy wave, the dreary shore. The sluggish streams that slowly creep below. Which mortals visit and return no more ! Farewell ye blooming fields ! ye cheerful plains ! Enough for me the church-yard's lonely mound, Where Melancholy, with still Silence reigns. And the rank grass weaves o'er the cheerless ground ! There let me wander at the shut of eve. When sleep sits heavy on the labourer's eyes ; The world and all its busy follies leave. And talk with Wisdom where my Daphnis lies ! 40 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. There let me sleep forgotten in the clay. When Death shall shut these weary-aching eyes; Kest in the hopes of an — Eternal Day, Till the long night is gone, and the last morn arise ! ^*'^'' '^ ^ BRUCE. THE RAVEN. A RAVEN, while with glossy breast Her new-laid eggs she fondly pressed. And on her wicker-work high mounted, Her chickens prematurely counted, (A fault philosophers might blame. If quite exempted from the same,) Enjoy'd at ease the genial day : 'Twas April, as the bumpkins say : But suddenly a wind as high As ever swept a winter sky. Shook the young leaves about her ears. And fiird her with a thousand fears. Lest the rude blast should snap the bough, And spread her golden hopes below. But just at eve the blowing weather. And all her fears were hush'd together : " And now," quoth poor unthinking Ralph, " 'Tis over, and the brood is safe." (For Ravens, tho' as birds of omen. They teach both conj rors and old women To tell us what is to befal. Can't prophesy themselvas at all.) The morning came, when neighbour Hodge, Who long had mark'd his airy lodge. And destin'd all the treasure there A gift to his expecting fair, Climb'd like a squirrel to his prey. And bore the worthless prize away. MORAL. 'Tis Providence alone secures. In every change, both mine and yours. Safety consists not in escape From dangers of a frightful shape : An earthquake may be bid to spare The man that's strangled by a hair. CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. , 41 Fate steals along with silent tread, n^dW Found oft'nest in what least we dread; .^ ^^ i^^cf Frowns in the storm with angry brow, But in the sunshine strikes the blow. cowpEB. TO A SNOW-DROP. POETS still, in graceful numbers. May the glowing roses choose ; But the Snow-drop's simple beauty Better suits an humble Muse. Earliest bud that decks the garden. Fairest of the fragrant race. First-born child of vernal Flora, Seeking mild thy lowly place ; Tho' no warm or murmuring zephyr Fan thy leaves with balmy wing, Pleas'd we hail thee, spotless blossom. Herald of the infant Spring. Thro' the cold and cheerless s6ason Soft thy tender form expands. Safe in unaspiring graces. Foremost of the bloomy bands. White-rob'd flower, in lonely beauty. Rising from a wintry bed ; Chilling winds, and blasts ungenial. Rudely threat'ning round thy head. Silv'ry bud, thy pensile foliage Seems the angry blasts to fear ; Yet secure, thy tender texture Ornaments the rising year. No warm tints, or vivid col'ring, Paint thy bells with gaudy pride ; Mildly charm'd, we seek thy fragrance. Where no thorns insidious hide. 'Tis not thine, with flaunting beauty To attract the roving sight ; Nature, from her varied wardrobe. Chose thy vest of purest white. 42 CLASSICAL k^GLia-a. tOETftV. White, as falls the fleecy shower. Thy soft form in sweetness grows ; Not more fair the valley's treasure. Not more sweet her hly blows. Drooping harbinger of Flora, Simply are thy blossoms drest ; Artless as the gentle virtues Mansion'd in the blameless breast. When to pure and timid virtue Friendship twines a votive wreath, O'er the fair selected garland Thou thy perfume soft shall breathe. LANGHORNE. THE muse; or, POETICAL ENTHUSIASM. THE Muse I v/hate'er the Muse inspires. My soul the tuneful strain admires. The Poet*s birth I ask not v/here. His place, his name, they're not my care. Nor Greece, nor Rome, delight me more Than Tagus' bank, or Thames's shore. From silver Avon's flowery side, Tho' Shakspeare's numbers sweetly glide. As sweet from Morven's desert hills My ear the voice of Ossian fills. The Muse ! whate'er the Muse inspires. My soul the tuneful strain admires. Nor bigot zeal, nor party rage. Prevail, to make me blame the page. I scorn not all that Dryden sings, Because he flatters Courts and Kings ; And from the master-lyre of Gray When pomp of music breaks away. Not less the sound my notice draws. For that is heard in Freedom's cause. The Muse ! whate'er the Muse inspires. My soul the tuneful strain admires. Where Wealth's bright sun propitious shines. No added lustre marks the lines ; Where Want extends her chilling shades. No pleasing flower of fancy fades CLASSICAL ENGLISH FOETHY. 43 A scribbling Peer's applauding lays Might claim, but claim in vain, my praise. From that poor youth, whose tales relate Sad Juga's fears, and Bawdin's fate. The Muse ! whate'er the Muse inspires. My soul the tuneful strain admires. When Fame her wreaths well-earn'd bestows. My breast no latent envy knows ; My Langhorne's verse I love to hear. And Beattie's song delights my ear; And his whom Athens' tragic maid Now leads thro' Scarning's lonely glade ; While he for British nymphs bids flow Her notes of terror and of woe. The Muse ; whate'er the Muse inspires. My soul the tuneful strain admires : Or be the verse, or blank, or rhyme. The theme, or humbler, or sublime ; If Pastoral's hand my journey leads Thro' harvest-fields, or new-mown meads ; If Epic's voice sonorious calls To ffita's cliffs, or Salem's walls ; Enough — the Muse, the Muse inspires ! My sGul the tuneful strain admires, scott. THE INFLUENCE OF HOPE. AT Summer eve, when Heav'n's aerial bow Spans with bright arch the glittering fields below. Why to yon mountain turns the musing eye. Whose sun-bright summit mingles with the sky ? Why do those cliffs of shadowy tint appear More sweet than all the landscape smiling near? *Tis distance lends enchantment to the view. And robes the mountain in its azure hue. Thus with delight we linger to survey The promis'd joys of life's unmeasur'd way ; Thus from afar each dim-discover'd scene More pleasing seems than all the past hatli been ! And every form that Fancy can repair From dark oblivion, glows divinely there. What potent spirit guides the raptur'd eye To pierce the shades of dim futurity ? ■ 4,4. ^C^SfCAlf TH'fidxIsfl^lJTii'V^. Can Wisdom lend, with all its heav'nly power, The pledge of Joy's anticipated hour? Ah! no; she darkly sees the fate of man — Her dim horizon bocinded to a span ; Or if she hold an image to the view, Tis nature pictur'd too severely true. With thee, sweet Hope, resides the heav'nly light, That pours remotest rapture on the sight; Thine is the charm of life's bewilder'd way. That calls each slumbering passion into play* Wak'd by thy touch, I see the sister band. On tiptoe watching, start at thy command. And fly where'er thy mandate bids them steer. To Pleasure's path, or Glory's bright career. Primeval Hope, the Aonian Muses say. When man and nature mourn'd their first decsiy, When every form of death and every woej Shot from malignant stars to earth below. When Murder bar'd her arm, and rampant War Yok'd the red dragons of her iron car. When Peace and Mercy, banish'd from the plain. Sprung on the viewless winds to Heav'n again — All, all forsook the friendless guilty mind. But Hope, the charmer, linger'd still behind. Thus, while Elijah's burning wheels prepaid ^S'O From Carmel's height to sweep the fields of aii^ tsK The prophet's mantle, ere his flight began, .sD sdT Dropt on the world — a sacred gift to man.uayi hnh Auspicious Hope ! in thy sweet garden grow ;|' Wreaths for each toil, a charm for every woei j Won by their sweets, in nature's languid hour, The way-worn pilgrim seeks thy summer bow'r; There, as the wild bee murmurs on the wing. What peaceful dreams thy handmaid spirits bring ! What viewless forms th' iEolian organ play, And sweep the furrow'd linesof anxious thought aw^^y. ;; %tmM aM \ifx • ^ -^ ®^ slid w A :;5Jq3-^,^ a^rfl iMsA CHILDHOOD. -^^ CHILDHOOD, happiest stage of life! Free from care, and free from strife ; 1 1 Free from Memory's ruthless reign, Fraught with scenes of former pain ; "" Free from Fancy's cruel skill, ■ Fabricating future ill : Time, when all that meets the view. All can charm for aU is new, 4 How thy long-lost hours I mourn. Never, never to return ! Then to toss the circling ball, ^ Caught rebounding from the wall ; T Then the mimic ship to guide Down the kennel's dirty tide ; Then the hoop's revolving pace Through the dirty street to ciias^ : O what joy ! — it once was mine. Childhood, matchless boon of thine ! How thy long-lost hours I mourn. Never, never to return ! scott. THE CURATE. O'ER the pale embers of a dying fire. His little lampe fed vdth but little oile, * The Curate sate (for scantie was his hire). And ruminated sad the morrowe's toil. 'Twas Sunday's eve, meet season to prepare The stated lectures of the coming tyde ; No day of rest to him, but day of cai'e. At manie a churcli to preach with tedious ride. Before him sprede his various sermons lay, :.- Of explanation deepe, and sage advice ; ' *^j f The harvest gain'd from manie a thoughtful day'e,' ' The fruit of learninge, bought with heavy price. On these he cast a fond, but tearful eye. Awhile he paus'd, for sorrowe stopp'd his throte; Arrous'd at lengthe, he heav'd a bitter sighe. And thus complainde, as well indeed he mote : 45 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. " Hard is the scholar's lot, condemn'd to sail " Unpatroniz'd o'er Life's tempestuous wave ; " Clouds blind his sight, nor blows a friendly gale, " To waft him to one port — except the grave. " Big with presumptive hope, I launch'd ray keele, " With youthful ardour, and bright science fi*aughte ; " Unanxious of the pains long doom'd to feel, '' Unthinking that the voyage might end in noughte. " Pleas'd, on the summer sea I daunc'd awhile, " With gay companions, and with views as fair ; " Ontstripp'd by these, I'm left to humble toil, " My fondest hope abandon'd in despair. " Had my ambitious mind been led to rise '" To highest flights, to crossier and to pall, '* Scarce could I mourn the missinge of the prize, " I'or soaring wishes well deserve their fall. ^' No tow'ring thoughts like these engag'd my breast " I hop'd (nor blame, ye proud, the lowly plan) *' Some little cove, some parsonage of rest, '' The scheme of duty suited to the man. " Where, in my narrow sphere secure, at ease, "' From vile dependence free, I might remain ; ^' The guide to good, the counsellor of peace, " The friend^ the shepherd, of the village sw*ain. " Yet cruel Fate denied the small request, " And bound me fast, in one ill-omen'd hour, " Beyond the chance of remedie, to reste " The slave of wealthie pride and priestlie pow'r. '' Oft, as in russet weeds I scour along, " In distant chappels hastilie to pray ; " By nod scarce notic'd o? the passinge thronge ; " 'Tis but the Curate, every childe will say. '' Nor circumscrib'd in dignitie alone, " Do I my rich superior's vassal ride ; *' Sad penurie, as was in cottage known, " With all its frowns, does o'er my roof preside. CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 47 All ! not for me the harvest yields its store, " The bough-crown'd shock in vain attracts mine eye ; To labour doom'd, and destin'd to be poor, '' I pass the field, I hope not envious, by. When at the altar, surplice-clad, I stand, " The bridegroom's joy draws forth the golden fee ; The gift I take, but dare not close my hand ; '' The splendid present centres not in me."^ PENROSE. GN A SHADOW. HOW are deluded human kind By empty shows betray'd ! In all their hopes and schemes they find A nothing, or a shade. The prospects of a truncheon cast A soldier on the wars ; Dismiss'd with shatter'd limbs at last. Brats, poverty, and scars. The fond philosophers for gain Yvlll leave unturn'd no stone ; But tho' they toil with endless pain, They never find their own. By the same rock the chemists drown, And find no friendly hold ; But melt their ready specie down, In hopes of fancy 'd gold. W^hat is the mad projector's care. In hopes elate and swelling ? He builds his castles in the air ; Yet wants a house to dwell in. At court the poor dependants fail. And damn their fruitless toil. When complimented thence to jail. And ruin'd with a smile. How too philosophers will souna So strange a truth display'd ? ^' There's not a substance to be found ; " But eveiy v/here a shade." pitt. 48 ^tASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. HUMAN FRAILTY. WEAK and irresolute is mail ; The purpose of to-day. Woven with pains into his plan, ^ ^ To-morrow rends away. The bow well bent, and smart the spring ; Vice seems already slain ! But passion rudely snaps the string. And it revives again. Some foe to his upright intent Finds out his weaker part. Virtue engages his assent. But Pleasure wins his heart. 'Tis here the folly of the wise. Thro' all his heart we view ; And while his tongue the charge denies. His conscience owns it true. Bound on a voyage of awful lengtli. And dangers little known, A stranger to superior strength, Man vainly trusts his own. But oars alone can ne'er prevail To reach the distant coast ; The breath of Heav'n must swell the sail. Or all the toil is lost. cowpek. THE DEBTOR. CHILDREN of affluence, hear a poor man's pray'r . O haste, and free me from this dungeon's gloom I Let not the hand of comfortless Despair Sink my gray hairs with sorrow to the tomb ! ; ) Unus'd Compassion's tribute to demand. With clamorous din wake Charity's dull ear, .1 Wring the slow aid from Pity's loit'ring hand. Weave the feign'd tale, or drop the ready t«ar. Far different thoughts employ'd my early hours, To views of bliss, to scenes of affluence born ; The hand of Pleasure strew'd my path with flow'rs| "," And ev'ry blessing hail'd my youthful morn. -^^"^^ CLASSICAL - E JTGLISH POETRY. ^1^ But, ah I how quick the change : the morning gleam, That cheer'd my fancy with her magic ray. Fled Hke the gairish pageant of a dream, 3'?^ And sorrow clos'd the evening of my day|' Such is the lot of human bliss below ! ■®'' Fond Hope awhile the trembling flow'ret rears ; Till unforeseen descends the blight of Woe, ,;; And withers in an hour the pride of year¥ In. evil hour, to specious wiles a prey, ^^-^ I trusted ; (who from fault is ever free?) - And the short progress of one fatal day. Was all the space 'twixt wealth and poverty. Where could I seek for comfort, or for aid ? To whom the ruins of my state commend? Left to myself, ahandon'd, and betray'd, Too late I found, the wretched have no friend ! E'en he, amid the rest, the favour'd youth. Whose vows had met the tenderest warm return. Forgot his oaths of constancy and truth. And left my child in solitude to mourn. Pity in vain stretch'd forth her feeble hand To guard the sacred WTeath that Hymen wove ; While pale-ey'd Avarice, from his sordid stand. Scowl' d o'er the ruins of neglected love. Tho' deeply hurt, yet sway'd by decent pride She hush'd her sorrows with becoming art ; And faintly strove^ with sickly smiles to hide The canker-worm that prey'd upon her heart. Nor blam'd his cruelty, nor wish'd to hate , .^.^^^.^ **»-.> W^hom once she lov'd, but pitied, and forgave* '-""^ - Then, unrepining, yielded to her fate, ' , And sunk in silent anguish to the grave. Children of afiRuence, hear a poor man's pray'r ! O haste and free me from tliis dungeon's gloom ! ;' Let not the hand of comfortless Despair Sink my gray hairs with sorrow to the tomb. - Monu. THE Patriot and warrior. LET laurels, drench'd in pure Parnassian dews. Reward hi* ^Rjea^ry dear to every muse, D 50 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRV. Wlio, with a courage of unshaken root. In honour's field advancing his firm foot. Plants it upon the line that justice draws, And will prevail or perish in her cause ! 'Tis to the virtues of such men man owes His portion in the good that heav'n bestows : And when recording history displays Feats of renown, tho' wrought in ancient days ; Tells of a few stout hearts that fought and died. Where duty plac'd them at their country's side ; The man who is not mov'd with what he reads. That takes not fire at their heroic deeds, Un-worthy of the blessings of the brave. Is base in kind, and born to be a slave ! But let eternal infamy pursue The wretch to nought but his ambition true ; Who, for the sake of filling with one blast The post-horns of all Europe, lays her waste ! Think yourself station'd on a tow'ring rock, To see a people scatter'd like a flock ; Some bloody mastiff panting at their heels. With all the savage thirst a tiger feels ; Then view him self-proclaim'd in a Gazette, Chief monster that has plagu'd the nations yet ! The globe and sceptre in such hands misplac'd. Those ensigns of dominion how disgrac'd ! The glass that bids man mark the fleeting hour. And death's own scythe would better speak his power ; Then grace the bony phantom in their stead, Witli the gay shoulder-knot and gay cockade ; Clothe the twin-brethren in each other's dress. The same — their occupation and success ! cow per. THE BEE-FLOWER. COME, let us leave this painted plain. This waste of flowers that palls the eye ; The walks of Nature's wilder reign Shall please in plainer majesty. Thro' those fair scenes, where yet she owes Superior charms to Brockman's art ; Where, crown'd with elegant repose. He cherishes the social heart. CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 51 Thro' those fair scenes we'll wander wild, And on yon pasture-mountains rest ; Come, brother dear ! come. Nature's child ! With all her simple virtues blest. The sun, far seen on distant towers. And clouding groves, and peopled seas ; And ruins pale of princely bowers. On Beachborough's airy heights shall please. Nor lifeless there the lonely scene ; The little labourer of the hive. From flower to flower, from green to green, Murmurs, and makes the wild alive. See, on that flow'ret's velvet breast. How close the busy vagrant lies ! His thin- wrought plume, his downy breast, Th' ambrosial gold that swells his thighs. Regardless, whilst we wander near. Thrifty of time, his task he plies ; Or sees he no intruder near. And rests in sleep his weary eyes. Perhaps his fragrant load may bind His limbs ; — we'll set the captive free. I sought the living Bee to find. And found the picture of a Bee. Attentive to our trifling selves. From thence we plan the rule of all ; Thus Nature with the fabled elves We rank, and these her sports we call. Be far, my friends, from you, from me, Th',unhallow'd term, the thought profane, That Life's majestic source may be In idle Fancy's trifling vein. Remember still, 'tis Nature's plan. Religion in your love to find ; And know, for this, she firct in man Inspir'd the imitative mind. As conscious that affection grows, Pleas'd with the pencil's mimic power ; That power with leading hand she shows. And painty a Bee upon a flower. D2 55 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. Mark, how that rooted mandrake wears His human feet, his human hands ! Oft, as his shapely form he rears. Aghast the frighted plowman stands. See where, in yonder orient stone. She seems e'en with herself at strife ; While fairer from her hand is shown The pictur'd, than the native life. Helvetia's rocks, Sabrina's waves. Still many a shining pebble bear ; Where oft her studious nand engraves The perfect form, and leaves it there. LANG HORNS. X THE ATHEIST AND THE ACORN. METHINKS the world seems oddly made. And every thing amiss ; A dull complaining Atheist said. As stretch'd he lay beneath the shade. And instanced in this ; " Behold," quoth he, " that mighty thing, " A Pumpkin, large andround, " Is held but by a little string, " Which upv/ards cannot make it spring, " Nor bear it from the ground. " While on this oak an Acorn small, " So disproportion'd grows, " That whosoe'er surveys this all, " This universal casual ball, " Its ill-contrivance knows. '' My better judgment would have hung *' The Putnpkin on the tree, " And left the Acorn slightly strung, " 'Mong things that on the surface sprung, " And weak and feeble be." No more the caviller could say. No further faults descry ; For upwards gazing as he lay. An Acorn loosen'd from its spray, ^i ji?A t Fell down upon his eye. noM lis i CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 55 The wounded part with tears rah o'er ; As punish'd for the sin : Fool ! had that bough a Pumpkin bore. Thy whimsies would have work'd no more^ Nor scull have kept them in. w^tts. THE MORALIST. HARK ! the hollow-moaning Wind Sweeps along the midnight air. Sullen as the guilty mind ; Hidden source of dark Despair. See the death- wing*d Lightning fly ! Desolation marks its way ; . . ^ - Fatal as the vengeful eye, .J Fixing on its destin'd prey. -_:. Dreadful Thunders threatening roU, "• Viewless, 'midst the turbid clouds ! So the fierce relentless soul Hate's empoison'd aiTows shrouds. See the biUowy Ocean's breast, Sway'd by ev'ry wav'ring wind ; Rises, foams, and sinks to rest. Fickle as the human mind ! Sweetly blooms the Rose of May, Glitt'ring with the tears of Mom ; So insidious smiles betray. While they hide the treach'rous thorn. Mark gay Summer's glowing prime, Shadow'd by the twilight gloom ; So the ruthless wing of Time Bends the fairest to the tomb. Moralist ! where'er you move O'er vast Nature's varying plan ; Ev'ry changing scene shall prove A SAD epitome of man I ROBINSON, theron; or, the praise of rural life. FAIR Spring o'er Nature held her gentlest sway. Fair Mom diffus'd around her brightest ray ; D3 54f CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. Thin mists hung hovering on the distant trees. Or roll'd from off the fields before tlie breeze. The shepherd Theron watch'd his fleecy train. Beneath a broad oak, on the grassy plain : A heath's green wild lay pleasant to his view. With shrubs and field-flowers deck'd of varied hue ; There hawthorns tall their silver bloom disclos'd. Here flexile broom's bright yellow interpos'd ; Tliere purple orchis, here pale daisies spread. And sweet May lilies richest odours shed. From many a copse and blossom'd orchard near. The voice of birds melodious charm'd the eai* ; There shrill the lark, and soft the linnet sung. And loud through air the throstle's music rung. The gentle swain the cheerful scene admir'd ; The cheerful scene the song of joy inspir'd. " Chant on !" he cried, " ye warblers on the spray ! " Bleat on, ye flocks, that in the pastures play I " Low on, ye herds, that range the dewy vales ! " Murmur, ye rills, and whisper soft ye gales ! " How blest my lot, in these sweet fields assign'd, " Where peace and leisure soothe the tuneful mind ; " Where yet some pleasing vestiges remain '' Of unperverted Nature's golden reign, " When Love and Virtue rang'd Arcadian shades, " With undesigning youths and artless maids ! " For us, tho' destin'd to a later time, " A less luxuriant soil, less genial clime ; " For as the country boasts enough to charm, " In the wild woodland or the cultur'd farm. " Come, Cynthia, come ! in town no longer stay ; " From crowds, and noise, and folly, haste away ! " The fields, the meads, the trees, are all in bloom, " The vernal showers awake a rife perfume, '' Where Damon's mansion, by the glassy stream, " Reai-s its white walls that thro' gi-een willows gleam, " Annual the neighbours hold their shearing-day, " And blithe youths come, and nymphs in neat array ; *? Those shear the sheep, upon the smooth turf laid, " In the broad plane's, or trembling poplar's shade : " These for their friends th' unexpected feast provide, " Beneath cool bowers along th' enclosure's side. '^ To view the toil, the glad repast to share, " Thy Delia, my Melaiiia, shall be there ; CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 55 " Eachj kind and faithful to her faithful swain, " Loves the calm pleasure of the pastoral plain. " Come, Cynthia, corae ! If towns and crowds invite, " And noise and folly promise high delight, " Soon the tir'd soul disgusted turns from these— " The rural prospect, only, long can please." scott. INSCRIPTION IN A HERMITAGE. BENEATH this stony roof rechn'd, I soothe to peace my pensive mind : And while, to shade my lowly cave^ Embow'ring elms their umbrage wave ; And while the maple dish is mine. The beechen cup unstain'd with wine ; T scorn the gay licentious crowd. Nor heed the toys that deck the proud. Within my limits lone and still. The blackbird pipes in artless trill ; Fast by my couch, "congenial guest. The wren has wove her mossy nest ; From busy scenes, and brighter skies, To lurk with Innocence, she flies ; Here hopes in safe repose to dwell. Nor aught suspects the sylvan cell. At mom I take my customed round. To mark how buds yon shrubby mound : And every opening primrose count. That trimly paints my blooming mount ; Or o'er the sculptures, quaint and rude. That grace my gloomy solitude, I teach, in winding wreaths, to stray Fantastic ivy's gadding spray. At eve, within yon studious nook, I ope my brass-embossed book, Pourtray'd with many a holy deed Of martyrs, crown'd with heavenly meed ; Then, if my taper waxes dim. Chant, ere I sleep, my measur'd hymn : And, at the close, the gleams behold Of parting wings bedropt with gold. D4 ^6 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY, While such pure joys my bliss create. Who but would smile at guilty state ? Who but would wish his holy lot In calm Oblivion's humble grot ? Who but would cast his pomp away, To lal^e my staff, and amice gray ; And to the world's tumultuous stage Prefer the blameless hermitage ? warton. REMEMBR.ANCES. ALAS ! the hospitable hall, Where youth and friendship play'd. Wide to the winds a ruin'd wall. Projects a death-like shade 1 ^ The charm is vanish'd from the vales. No voice with virgin- whisper hails A stranger to his native bow'rs ; No more Arcadian mouiitains bloom. Nor Enna valleys breathe perfume. The fancied Eden fades with all its flowers I Companions of the youthful scene, Endear'd from earliest days ! With whom I sported on the green. Or rov'd the woodland maze ! Long exil'd from your native clime, Or by the thunderstroke of Time, Snatch'd to the shadows of despair; I hear your voices in the wind. Your forms in every walk I find, I stretch my arms : ye vanish into air f My steps, when innocent and young. These fairy paths pursu'd ; And, wand'ring o'er the wild, I sung My fancies to the wood. , '^ I mourn'd the linnet-lover's fate, J Or turtle, from her murder'd mate, Condemn'd the widow'd hours to wail : Or while the mournful vision rose, I sought to weep for imag'd woes. Nor real life believ'd a tragic tale ! LoGA^ . CLASSiCAL ENGLISH POETRY. $7 ~ THE PLEASANT EVENING. DELIGHTFUL looks this clear, calm sky. With Cynthia's orb on high ! Delightful looks this smooth-grain ground. With shadows cast from cots around ; ! Quick-twinkling lustre decks the tide ; And cheerful radiance gently falls On that white town, and castle walls. That crown the spacious river's further side. And now, along the echoing hills. The night-bird's strain melodious trills ; And now, the echoing dale along. Soft flows the shepherd's tuneful song ; And now, wide o'er the water borne. And cities, mingled murmur swells. And lively change of distant bells. And varied warbling of the deep-ton'd horn. Their influence calms the soften'd soul. And passions feel their strong controul ; While Fancy's eye, where'er it strays, A scene of happiness surveys ; Through all the various walks of life No natural ill or moral sees. No famine fell, nor dire disease. Nor War's infernal unrelentuig strife. For these, behold a heavenly band. Their white wings waving o'er the land ! Sweet Innocence, a cherub fair. And Peace, and Joy, a sister-pair ; And Kindness mild, their kindred grace. Whose brow serene complacence wears. Whose hand her liberal bounty bears O'er the vast range of animated space ! Blest vision ! O for ever stay ! O far be Guilt and Pain away \ And yet, perhaps, with Him, whose view Looks at one glance creation through. To general good our partial ill Seems but a sand upon the plain. Seems but a drop amid the main. And some wise unknown purpose may fulfil. SCOTT D5 5l5 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY, THE TEMPESTUOUS EVENING. THERE'S grandeur in the sounding storm. That drives the hurrying clouds along. That on each other seem to throng. And mix in many a varied form ; While, bursting now and then between. The moon's dim misty orb is seen. And casts faint glimpses on the green. Beneath the blast the forests bend. And thick the branchy ruin lies. And wide the shower of foliage flies ; The lake's black waves in tumult blend ; Revolving o'er, and o'er, and o'er. And foaming on the rocky shore. Whose caverns echo to their roar. The sight sublime enrapts my thought. And swift along the past it strays. And much of strange event surveys, What History's faithful tongue has taught ; Or Fancy form'd, whose plastic skill The page with fabled change can fill. Of ill to good, or good to ill. But can my soul the scene enjoy. That rends another's breast with pain ? O hapless he, who, near the main. Now sees its billowy rage destroy ! Beholds the foundering bark descend. Nor knows but what its fate may end The moments of his dearest friend. scott. MAN MADE TO MOURN. A FEW seem favourites of state. In pleasure's lap carest. Yet think not all the rich and great. Are likewise truly blest ; But oh ! what crowds in ev'ry land Are wretched and forlorn ; Thro' weary life this lesson learn. That man was made to mourn I CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 59 Many and sharp the num'rous ills Inwoven with our frame ; More pointed still we make ourselves Regret — remorse and shame. And Man, whose heav'n-erected face The smiles of love adorn : Man's inhumanity to man. Makes countless thousands mourn ! See yonder poor o'er-labour'd wight. So abject, mean, and vile. Who begs a brother of the earth To give him leave to toil ; And see his lordly fellow- worm The poor petition spurn. Unmindful, tho' a weeping wife And helpless offspring mourn ! If I'm design'd yon lordling's slave By nature's law design'd. Why was an independent wish E'er planted in my mind } If not — why am I subject to His cruelty or scorn ? Or why has man the will or pow'r To make his fellow mourn ? Yet let not this too much, my son. Disturb thy youthful breast ; This partial view of human kind Is surely not the last : The poor oppressed honest man Had never sure been born. Had there not been some recompence To comfort those that mourn ! O Death ! the poor man's dearest friend. The kindest and the best : Welcome the hour my aged limbs Are laid with thee at rest ! The great and wealthy fear thy blow. From pomp and pleasure torn ; But oh ! a blest relief to those That weary-laden mouni ! burns, D6 J60 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. THE MESSIAH. YE Nymphs of Soljmia ! begin the song, To heavenly themes sublimer strains belong. The mossy fountains, and the sylvan shades. The dreams of Pindus, and th' Aonian maids. Delight no more. — O Thou my voice inspire, Who touch'd Isaiah's hallow'd lips with fire ! Rapt into future times the Bard begun : A Virgin shall conceive, a Virgin bear a son ! From Jesse's root behold a branch arise. Whose sacred flow'r with fragrance fills the skies ; Th' ethereal Spirit o'er its leaves shall move. And on its top descends the mystic dove. Ye heavens ! from high the dewy nectar pour. And in soft silence shed the kindly siiow'r I The sick and weak the healing plant shall aid. From storms a shelter, and from heat a shade. Ail crimes shall cease, and ancient fraud shall fail, Returning Justice lift aloft her scale ; Peace o'er the world her olive wand extend. And white-rob'd Innocence from heaven descend. Swift fly the years, and rise th' expected morn ! Oh, spring to light, auspicious Babe ! be born. See Nature hastes her earliest wreaths to bring. With all the incense of the breathing spring : See lofty Lebanon his head advance. See nodding forests on the mountains dance : See spicy clouds from lowly Sharon rise. And Carmel's flow'ry top perfumes the skies ! Hark ! a glad voice the lonely desert cheers ; Prepare the way ! a God, a God appears ! A God, a God ! the vocal hills reply. The rocks proclaim th' approaching Deity. Lo, earth receives him from the bending skies ! Sink down, ye mountains ! and ye valleys rise ! With heads declin'd, ye cedars, homage pay ; Be smooth, ye rocks ! ye rapid floods, give way ! The Saviour comes ! by ancient Bards foretold : Hear him, ye deaf I and all ye blind, behold ! He from thick films shall purge t^lie visual ray. And on the sightless ey^-ball pour the day : ' CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 61 'Tis he th* obstructed paths of sound shall clear. And bid new music charm th' unfolding ear : The dumb shall sing, the lame his crutch forego. And leap exulting like the bounding roe. No sigh, no murmui', the wide world shall hear. From ev'ry face he wipes off ev'ry tear. In adamantine chains shall Death be bound. And hell's grim tyrant feel th' eternal wound. As the good shepherd tends his fleecy care. Seeks freshest pasture, and the purest air. Explores the lost, the wandering sheep directs. By day o'ersees them, and by night protects ; The tender lambs he raises in his arms. Feeds from his hand, and in his bosom warms ; Thus shall mankind his guardian care engage, The promis'd father of the future age. No more shall nation against nation rise. Nor ardent warriors meet with hateful eyes : Nor fields with gleaming steel be cover'd o'er. The brazen trumpets kindle rage no more ; But useless lances into scythes shall bend. And the broad faulchion in a ploughshare end : Then palaces shall rise ; the joyful son Shall finish what his short-liv'd sire begun ; Their vines a shadow to their race shall yield, And the same hand that sow'd,^shall reap the field. The swain in barren deserts, with surprise. Sees lilies spring, and sudden verdure rise ; - And starts amidst the thirsty wilds to hear New falls of water murm'ring in his ear. On rifted rocks, the dragon's late abodes, i *^' The green reed trembles, and the bulrush nod#;'* ^-^^ Waste sandy valleys, once perplex'd with thorn. The spiry fir and stately box adorn ; To leafless shrubs the flow'ring palms succeed. And od'rous myrtle to the noisome weed ; The lambs with wolves shall grace the verdant mead, And boys in flow'ry bands the tiger lead. The steer and Hon at one crib shall meet. And harmless serpents lick the pilgrim's feet. The smiling infant in his hand shall take The crested basilisk, and speckled snake ; Pleas'd, the green lustre of their scales survey, And with their forky tongues shall innocently play. 02 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. Rise, crown'd with light, imperial Salem, rise f Exalt thy tow'ry head, and lift thy eyes ; See a long race thy spacious courts adorn ; See future sons, and daughters, yet unborn. In crowding ranks on ev'ry side arise. Demanding life, impatient for the skies ! See barbrous nations at thy gate attend. Walk in thy light, and in thy temples bend ; See thy bright altars throng'd with prostrate kings, And heap'd with products of Sabaean springs ! For thee Idume's spicy forests blow. And seeds of gold in Ophir's momitains glow. See Heaven its sparkling portals wide display. And break upon thee in a flood of day. No more the rising sun shall gild the morn. Nor ev'ning Cynthia fill her silver horn ; But lost, dissolved in thy superior rays. One tide of glory, one unclouded blaze, O'erflow thy courts : the Light himself shall shine Reveal'd, and God's eternal day be thine ! The seas shall waste, the skies in smoke decay. Rocks fall to dust, and mountains melt away : But fix'd his word, his saving power remains ; Thy realm for ever lasts, thy own Messiah reigns ! POPE. THE NEGRO S COMPLAINT. FORC'D from home and all its pleasures, Afric's coast I left forlorn ; To increase a stranger's treasures. O'er the raging billows borne. Men from England bought and sold me. Paid my price in paltry gold ; But, though their's they have enroU'd me. Minds are never to be sold. Still in thought as free as ever, What are England's rights, I ask. Me from my delights to sever. Me to torture, me to task ? Fleecy locks and black complexion Cannot forfeit Nature's claim ; Skins may differ, but affection Dwells in white and black- the same. CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 63 Why did all-creating Nature, Make the plant for which we toil ? Sighs must fan it, tears must water. Sweat of ours must dress the soil. Think, ye masters, iron-hearted. Lolling at your jovial boards ; Think how many backs have smarted For the sweets your cane affords. Is there, as ye sometimes tell us. Is there One, who reigns on high ? Has he bid you buy and sell us, Speaking from his throne, the sky ? Ask him, if your knotted scourges. Matches, blood-^extorting screws. Are the means which duty urges, Agents of his will to use ? Hark ! he answers — Wild tornadoes. Strewing yonder sea with wrecks ; Wasting towns, plantations, meadows. Are Qie voice with which he speaks. He, foreseeing what vexations Afric's sons should undergo, Fix'd their tyrants' habitations Where his whirlwinds answer — No. By our blood in Afric wasted. Ere our necks receiv'd the chain ; By the miseries we have tasted. Crossing in your barks the main : By our sufferings, since ye brought us To the man-degrading mart ; All sustained by patience, taught us Only by a broken heart ! Deem our nation brutes no longf^r. Till some reason ye shall find. Worthier of regard, and stronger. Than the colour of our kind. Slaves of gold, whose sordid dealings Tarnish all your boasted powers. Prove that you have human feelings, . Ere you proudly question ours ! covv'Pek. 6# CLM^tJitL ENGLISH POETRY. SOCIAL AFFECTIONS INDELIBLE. ASK the pale mother, why 'tis joy to weep, When o'er her stricken babe faint slumbers creep ? Ask why the child at midnight's thickest gloom Still fondly lingers at a parent's tomb ? Or why the wife, in times of raging death, Yet leans to catch her Lord's polluted breath ? Go, warn them straight of pestilential air. Point to the weakness here, the danger there; Let mirth and music all their powers employ, To spread for every sense its fav'rite joy; Then,arm'd with all the world's seductions, try To wean the mourners from so dark a sky ; Oh ! they will spurn the profer'd gales of health. The lures of pleasure and the snares of wealth, Prefer the dark recesses of disease. The sickly pillow, and the tainted breeze. And call it conscience, nature, bliss, to know The last extremities of social woe. Hence the great principle to all expands. Thaws Lapland's ice, and glows in India's sands ; Above, below, its genial splendours play. Where'er a human footstep marks the way. '« Oh ! for one track of man upon the snow, " The trace of sweet society to shew ! " Oh ! for one print on swarthy Afric's sho-re !" Thus prays the wanderer, 'scap'd from ocean's roar : In every clime is felt the throb divine. By land, by water, here, and at the line. PRATT. EDWIN AND ANGELINA. " TURN, gentle Hermit of the dale, " And guide my lonely way, •* To where yon taper cheers the vale " With hospitable ray. " For here forlorn and lost I tread, " With fainting steps and slow ; ** Where wilds immeasurably spread " Seem lengthening as I go.' CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 65 ^ *' Forbear, my son," the Hermit cries, " To tempt the dangerous gloom ; *' For yonder phantom only flies " To lure thee to thy doom. " Here, to the houseless chQd of want " My door is open still : " And though my portion is but scant, " I give it with good will. " Then turn to-night, and freely share " Whate'er my cell bestows ; " My rushy couch and frugal fare, " My blessing and repose. " No flocks, that range the valley free, " To slaughter I condemn ; *' Taught by that power that pities me, " I learn to pity them. " But from the mountain's grassy side " A guiltless feast I bring ; " A scrip, with herbs and fruits supply'd, " And water from the spring. " Then, Pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego ; " All earth-bornr cares are wrong : " Man wants but little here below. Nor wants that little long." Soft as the dew from Heav n descends. His gentle accents fell ; The modest stranger lowly bends. And follows to the cell. Far m a wilderness obscure. The lonely mansion lay ; A refuge to the neighbouring poor, And strangers led astray. No stores beneath its humble thatch Requir'd a master's care ; The wicket, opening with a latch, Receiv'd the harmless pair. And now, when busy crowds retire. To take their evening rest. The Hermit trimm'd his little fire. And cheer'd his pensive guest ; 66 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. And spread his vegetable store. And gaily press'd and smil'd ; And, skill'd in legendary lore. The lingering hours beguil'd. Around, in sympathetic mirth. Its tricks the kitten tries ; The cricket chirrups in the hearth. The crackling faggot flies. But nothing could a charm impart. To soothe the stranger's woe ; For grief was heavy at his heart, And tears began to flow. His rising cares the Hermit spy'd, With answering care opprest : '^ And whence, unhappy youth," he cry'd, '* The sorrows of thy breast ? " From better habitations spurn'd, " Reluctant dost thou rove ? " Or grieve for friendship unreturn'd, " Or unregarded love ? " Alas ! the joys that fortune brings " Are trifling and decay ; '*' And those who prize the paltry things ; " More trifling still than they. " And what is friendship but a name " A charm that lulls to sleep ! " A shade that follows wealth or fame, " And leaves the wretch to weep ! " And love is still an emptier sound, *' The modem fair-one's jest ; " On earth unseen, or only found " To warm the turtle's nest. " For shame, fond youth, thy sorrow's hush, " And spurn the sex," he said : But while he spoke, a rising blush His love-lorn guest betray'd. Surpris'd, he sees new beauties rise. Swift mantling to the view. Like colours o'er the morning skies. As bright, as transient too. CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 5? The bashful look, the rising breast. Alternate spread alarms ; The lovely stranger stands confest A maid in all her charms. *' And ah ! forgive a stranger rude, " A wretch forlorn," she cry'd, " Whose feet unhallow'd thus intrude, " Where heaven and you reside, " But let a maid thy pity share, " Whom love has taught to stray ; " Who seeks for rest, but finds despair " Companion of her way. " My father liv'd beside the Tyne, " A wealthy lord was he ; " And all his wealth was mark'd as mine ; " He had but only me. " To win me from his tender arms, " Unnumber'd suitors came ; '' Who prais'd me for imputed charms, " And felt, or feign'd, a flame. " Each hour a mercenaiy crowd ** With richest proffers strove ; ** Amongst the rest young Edwin bov/*d, " But never talked of love. " In humblest, simplest, habit clad, " No wealth nor power had he ; *' Wisdom and worth were all he had ; " But these were all to me. " The blossom opening to the day, " The dews of Heaven refin'd, " Could nought of purity display, '^ To emulate his mind. *f The dew, the blossoms of the tree, " With charms inconstant shine ; *' Their charms were his ; but, woe to me, " Their constancy was mine. *' For still I try'd each fickle art, " Importunate and vain ; " And while his passion touched my heart, " I triumph'd in his pain. 68 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. " Till quite dejected with my sewn, " He left me to my pride ; " And sought a solitude forlorn, " In secret, where he died ! "But mine the sorrow, mine the fault, " And well my life shall pay : " rU seek the solitude he sought, " And stretch me where he lay. *• And there, forlorn, despairing, hid, " I'll lay me down and die : " 'Twas so for me that Edwin did, _ _„ " And so for him will I." " Forbid it. Heaven !" the Hermit cry'd. And clasp'd her to his breast : The wondering fair-one turn'd to chide ', 'Twas Edwin's self that prest ! " Turn, Angelina, ever dear, " My charmer, turn to see, "Thy own, thy long-lost, Edwin here, " Restor'd to love and thee. " Thus let me hold thee to my heart, " And ev'ry care resign ; " And shall we never, never part, " My Hfe — ^my all that's mine ? " No, never from this hour to part, " We'll live and love so true ; " The sigh that rends thy constant heart, 'f ShaU break thy Edwin's too." ^ goldsmith. MENTAL IMPROVEMENT. The time was once When Love and Happiness went hand in hand ; In that blest era of the infant world. Ere man had learnt to bow the knee to man. Was there a youth whom warm affection fill'd. He spake his honest heart : the earliest fruits His toil produc'd : the sweetest flowers that deck'd The sunny bank, he gather'd for the maid ; Nor she disdain'd the gift jv for Vice not yet Had burst the dungeons of her hell, and rear'd CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 69 Those artificial bounds that divide Man from his species — State of blessedness ! Till that ill-omen'd hour when Cain's stem son Delv'd into the bowels of the earth for gold — - Accursed bane of virtue ! of such force As poets feign dwelt in the gorgon locks. Which, whoso saw, felt instant the life-blood Cold curdle in his veins : the creeping flesh Grew stiff with horror, and the heart forgot To beat. Accursed hour ! for man no more To Justice paid his homage, but forsook Her altars, and bow'd down before the shrine Of Wealth and Power, the idols he had made! Then Hell enlarg'd herself — her gates flew wide— Her legion fiends rush'd forth ! Oppression came, Whose frown is desolation, and whose breath Blasts like a pestilence : and Poverty, A meagre monster^ who, with with'ring touch Makes barren all the better part of man — Mother of Miseries ! — then the goodly Earth Which God had fram'd for happier purposes, became One theatre of woe ; and all that God Had given to bless freemen, these tyrant fiends His bitterest curses made ! Yet for the best Hath he ordain'd all things — the All- Wise ! For by experience rous'd shall Man at length Dash down his Moloch-gods Samson-like, And burst his fetters — only strong whilst strong Believ'd — then in the bottomless abyss Oppression shall be chain'd and Poverty Die, and with her — her brood of miseries ; And Virtue and Equality preserve The reign of Love, and Earth shall once again Be Paradise, whilst Wisdom shall secure The state of bUss which Ignorance betrayed ! SOUTHEY. ODE TO WISDOM. THE solitary bird of rnght Thro' the pale shades now wings his flight. And quits the time- shook tow'r ; Where, shelter'd from the blaze of day, In philosophic gloom he lay. Beneath his ivy bow'r. 70 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. With joy I hear the solemn sound. Which midnight echoes waft around. And sighing gales repeat : Fav'rite of Pallas ! I attend. And, faithful to thy summons, bend At Wisdom's awful seat. She loves the cool, the silent eve. Where no false shows of life deceive. Beneath the lunar ray : Here Folly drops each vain disguise, Nor sports her gaily-colour'd dyes. As in the glare of day. O Pallas ! queen of ev'ry art " That glads the sense, or mends the heart,** Blest source of purer joys ; In ev'ry form of beauty bright. That captivates the mental sight With pleasure and surprise : To thy unspotted shrine I bow ; Assist thy modest suppliant's vow. That breathes no wild desires ; But, taught by thy unerring rules. To shun the fruitless wish of fools. To nobler views aspires. Nor Fortune's gem. Ambition's plume, Not Cytherea's fading bloom. Be objects of my pray'r : Let Av'rice, Vanity, and Pride, Those glitt'ring, envied toys, divide ; The dull rewards of care. To me thy better gifts impart. Each moral beauty of the heart. By studious thought refin'd ; For wealth, the smiles of glad content ; For pow'r, its amplest, best extent. An empire o'er my mind. Wben Fortune drops her gay parade. When Pleasure's transient roses fade, And wither in the tomb ; Unchang'd is thy immortal prize. Thy ever- verdant laurels rise In undecaying bloom. CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 71 By thee protected, I defy The coxcomb's sneer, the stupid lie. Of ignorance and spite ; Alike contemn the leaden fool. And all the pointed ridicule Of un discerning wit. From envy, hurry, noise, and strife, The dull impertinence of life. In thy retreat I rest ; Pursue thee to the peaceful groves. Where Plato's sacred spirit roves. In all thy graces drest. He bids Ilissus' tuneful stream Convey the philosophic theme Of perfect, fair, and good ; Attentive Athens caught the souxd. And all her list'ning sons around In awful silence stood. Reclaim'd, her wild licentious youth Confess'd the potent voice of truth. And felt its just control : The passions ceas'd their loud alarms. And virtue's soft persuasive charms O'er all their senses stole. Thy breath inspires the poet's song. The patriot's free unbiass'd tongue. The hero's generous strife : Thine are retirement's silent joys. And all the sweet endearing ties Of still domestic life. No more to fabl'd names confin'd, To Thee, Supreme All-perfect Mind, My thoughts direct their flight : Wisdom's thy gift, and all her force From thee deriv'd. Unchanging Source Of intellectual light ! O send her sure, her steady ray. To regulate my doubtful way. Through life's perplexing road ; The mists of error to control. And through its gloom direct ray soul To happiness and good ! *^ ^hikS^Ah^imGLiSH POETRY. Beneath her clear discerning eye The visionary shadows fly u,. ^ Of folly's painted show; ^ ^^^, THOIHa She sees, thro ev ry iair disguise, rr..,,:; ^^./m That all, but virtue's 5olid joys. Is vanity and woe. carteu. ossian's hymn to the sun. O THOU whose beams the sea-girt earth array. King of the sky, and father of the day ! O Sun ! what fountain, hid from human eyes. Supplies thy circle round the radiant skies, For ever burning and for ever bright, 'I With Heaven's pure fire and everlasting light? WTiat awful beauty in thy face appears ! Immortal youth beyond the power of years I When gloomy darkness to thy reign resigns, -'^ And from the gates of Morn thy glory shines. The conscious stars are put to sudden flight, ■■{ And all the planets hide their heads in night ; The Queen of Heaven forsakes th' ethereal plain. To sink inglorious in the western main. The clouds refulgent deck thy golden throne. High in the Heavens, immortal and alone ! Who can abide the brightness of thy face. Or who attend thee in thy rapid race ? The mountain-oaks, like their own leaves, ded^^^^J'*!^■*' Themselves, the mountains, wear with age away ; ' The boundless main that rolls from land to land. Lessens at times and leaves a waste of sand ; The silver moon, refulgent lamp of night, -.H Is lost in Heaven, and emptied of her light ; ;W But thou for ever shalt endure the same, - Thy light eternal and unspent thy flame. When tempests with their train impend on high, Darken the day, and load the labouring sky ; When Heaven's wide convex glows with lightnings dire. All ether flaming, and all earth on fire ; When loud and long the deep-mouth'd thunder rolls. And peals on peals redoubled rend the poles ; If from the opening clouds thy form appears. Her wonted charm the face of nature wears; H Thy beauteous orb restores departed day, T Looks from the sky and laughs the storm away* fc^cisfl / LOGAN. id ODE TO THE GLOW-WORM. BRIGHT stranger, welcome to my field ; Here feed in safety, here thy radiance yield ; To me, oh, nightly be thy splendom* giv'n ! O, could a wish of mine the skies command. How would I gem thy leaf with lib'ral hand, With ev'ry sweetest dew of heav'n ! Say, dost thou kindly light the fairy train. Amid the gambols on the stilly plain. Hanging thy lamp upon the moisten'd blade ? What lamp so fit, so pure as thine. Amid the gentle elfen band to shine. And chase the horrors of the midnight shade ! Oh ! may no feathered foe disturb thy bow'r. And with barbarian beak thy life devour ! Oh ! may no ruthless torrent of the sky, Q'erwhelming, force thee from thy dewy seat ; Nor tempests tear thee from thy green retreat. And bid thee 'mid the humming myriads die ! Queen of the insect world, what leaves delight ! Of such these willing hands a bow'r shall form. To guard thee from the rushing rains of night. And hide thee from the wild wing of the storm. Sweet child of stillness ! 'mid the awful calm Of pausing Nature thou art pleas'd to dwell ; In happy silence to enjoy thy balm. And shed through life a lustre round thy cell. How diff'rent man, the imp of noise and strife. Who courts the storm that tears and darkens life ; Blest when the passions wild the soul invade ! How nobler far to bid those whirlwinds cease ; To taste, like thee, the luxury of peace. And, silent, shine in solitude and shade ! A BOTANY BAY ECLOGUE. WHY, stern Remembrance, must thine iron hand Harrow ray soul ? why calls thy cruel pow'r The fields of England to my exil'd eyes. The joys which once were mine ? E'en now I see E Y* CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. The lowly lovely dwelling ! even now Behold the woodbine clasping its white walls. And hear the fearless redbreasts chirp around To ask their morning meal. — For I was wont. With friendly hand, to give their morning meal ; Was wont to love their song, when ling'ring mom Streak'd o'er the chilly landscape the dim light. And thro' the open lattice hung my head To view the snovz-drops bud ; and thence at eve. When mildly fading sunk the summer sun, Ofl have I lov'd to mark the rook's slow course. And hear his hollow croak, what time he sought The church-yard elm, whose wide-embow'ring boughs. Full fohag'd, half conceal'd the house of God. There, my dear Father, often have I heard Thy hallow'd voice explain the wond'rous works Of heav'n to sinful men. Ah, little deem'd Thy virtuous bosom, that thy shameless child So soon should spurn the lesson ! sink the slave Of vice and infamy ! the hireling prey Of brutal appetite ! At length worn out With famine, and th' avenging scourge of guilt. Should dare dishonesty— yet dread to die. south ey. EARLY IMPRESSIONS. DOWN by yon hazel copse, at ev'ning blaz'd The gipsy's fagot — there we stood and gaz'd ; Gaz'd on her sun-burnt face with silent awe. Her tatter'd men tie, and her hood of straw ; Her moving lips, her caldron brimming o'er ; The drowsy brood that on her back she bore ; Imps, in the barn with mousing owlet bred. From rifled roost at nightly revel fed ; Whose dark eyes flash'd through locks of blackest shade, When in the breeze the distant watch-dog bay'd : And heroes fled the sybil's mutter'd call. Whose elfen prowess scal'd the orchard-wall. And o'er my palm the silver piece she drew. And trac'd the line of life with searching view : How throbb'd my flutt'ring pulse with hopes and fears. To learn the colour of my future years ! CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 75 Ah, then, what honest triumph fiush'd my breast This truth once known — To bless is to be blest. We led the bending buggar on his way ; (Bare were his feet, his tresses silver-gray) Sooth'd the keen pangs his aged spirit felt. And on his tale with mute attention dwelt. As in his scrip we dropt our little store. And wept to think that little was no more. He breath'd his pray'r ; " Long may such goodness live \" 'Twas all he gave, 'twas all he had to give. But hark ! thro' those old firs, with sullen svrell The church-clock strikes ! ye tender scenes, farewell ! It calls me hence, beneath their shade to trace The few fond lines that time may soon efface. On yon gray stone, that fronts the chancel-door, "V^^orn smooth by busy feet now seen no more. Each eve we shot the marble through the ring, When the heart danc'd, and life was in its spring ; Alas ! unconscious of the kindred earth. That faintly echoed to the voice of mirth. Rogers. HAPPINESS. OH Happiness ! our beiiTg's end and aim : Good, pleasure, ease, content ! whatever thy name ; That something still which prompts th' eternal sigh. For which we dare to live, or dare to die ! Which still so near us, yet beyond us lies, O'erlook'd, seen double, by the fool and wise ! Plant of celestial seed ! if dropt below. Say, in what mortal soil thou deign'st to gi-ow ? Fair op'ning to some court's propitious shrine. Or deep with diamonds in the flaming mine ? Twin'd with the wreaths Parnassian laurels yield. Or reap'd in iron harvests of the field ? Where grows — where grows it not ? If vain our toil. We ought to blame the culture, not the soil. Fix'd to no spot is happiness sincere, 'Tis no where to be found, or ev'ry where ; 'Tis never to be bought, but always free. And fled from monai'chs, St. John, dvvells with thee. Ask of the leam'd the way : — the leam'd ar^ blind ; This bids to serve, and that to shun, mankind. E2 76r CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. Seme place the bliss in action, some in ease^'^^^^^'^^ ^^^^ Those call it pleasure, and contentment thesfe:"'" " "- Some, sunk to beasts, find pleasure end in pain ; Some, swell'd to gods, confess ev'n virtue vain : Or indolent, to each extreme they fall. To trust in every thing, or doubt of all. Who thus define it, say they more or less *^ Than this, that happiness is happiness ? Take nature's path, and mad opinions leave, .>? All states can reach it, and all heads conceive ; fyj Obvious her goods, in no extreme they dwell ; :,qj^^ ^^ There need but thinking right, and meaning welli ^j;^f| And, mourn our various portions as we please, , ,., Equal are common sense and common ease. Remember, man, '^ The Universal Cause *' Acts not by partial, but by gen'ral laws ;" And makes what happiness we justly call. Subsist not in the good of one, but all. There's not a blessing individuals find. But some way leans and hearkens to the kind : No bandit fierce, no tyrant mad with pride. No cavera'd hermit, rests self-satisfied. Who most to shun or hate mankind pretend. Seek an admirer, or v/ould fix a friend. Abstract what others feel, what others think. All pleasures sicken, and all glories sink : Each has his share ; and who would more obtain. Shall find the pleasure pays not half the pain. Order is Heaven's first law ; and this confest. Some are, and must be, greater than the rest ; More rich, more wise ; but who infers from hence That such are happier, shocks all common sense. Heaven to mankind impartial we confess. If all are equal in their happiness : But mutual wants this happiness increase. All nature's difference keeps all nature's peace. Condition, circumstance, is not the thing ; Bliss is the same in subject or in king ; In who obtain defence, or who defend ; In him who is, or him who finds, a friend : Heaven breathes through every member of the whole. One common blessing as one common souL CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY* ^7v But fortune's gifts, if each alike possest^' orf:? SPssfq BmoB And each were equal, must not all contest ? aaofiT If then, to all men happiness was meant, er-frv? God in externals could not place content. Fortune her gifts may variously dispose. And these be happy call'd, unhappy those ; But Heaven's just balance equal will appeal*. Whilst those are plac'd in hope, and these in fear ; Not present good or ill, the joy or curse, But future views of better or of worse. Oh sons of earth ! attempt ye still to rise. By mountain's pil'd on mountains, to the skies ? Heaven still with laughter the vain toil surveys. And buries madmen in the heaps they raise. Know, all the good that individuals find. Of God and nature meant to mere mankind. Reason's whole pleasures, all the joys of sense. Lie in three words — health, peace, and competence, POl'E. THE BRITISH POETS FROM CHAUCER TO JOHNSON. AS amid the gloom of night. When no star emits its light. Swift the meteor's sudden ray Gleams a momentary day ; Thus gay Chaucer's mirthful rhymes Glitter'd amid barb'rous times. Next descriptive Spenser shrouds Truth in allegory's clouds. And in Gloriana's name Sings Eliza's matchless fame. Peerless Shakspeare brightly shone * ^"^V^ With a splendour all his own : -^ ^®^ ^ While with eloquence divine '^-f Nature speaks thro' ev'ry line ; ^ ^^ Scorning frigid rules of art, - *** -^^'^ He enchants the yielding heart, '"^^ *^^ O'er the subject passion reigns, ''l^^^l?^ Reason charms, and judgment chains, / «i saiia And with unresisted sway, --^ m&i£l Poets themselves must fall, like those they sung^ g,^^ Deaf the prais'd ear, and mute the tuneful tongu^J g^rf E'en he whose soul now melts in mournful lays, ; ^^IqQ} Shall shortly want the generous tear he pays; i , |jfj/^ Then from his closing eyes thy form sh^ part, ^iiiiT 86 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. Life's idle bus'ness at one gasp be o'er^ The muse forgot, and thou belov'd no more ! MEMORY. HAIL, Memorj?^ hail ! in thy exhaustless mine. From age to age unnumbered treasures shine ! Thought and her shadowy brood thy call obey. And Place and Time are subject to thy sway ! Thy pleasures most we feel when most alone. The only pleasures we can call our own ! Lighter than air Hope's summer- visions die. If but a fleeting cloud obscure the sky ; If but a beam of sober reason play, Lo ! Fancy's fairy fi-ost-work melts away ! But can the wiles of Art, the grasp of Pow'r, Snatch the rich relics of a well-spent hour ? These, when the trembling spirit wings her flight, Pour round her path a stream of living light. And gild those pure and perfect realms of rest. Where Virtue triumphs, and her sons are blest ! ROGERS. A COMPARISON. THE lapse of time and rivers is the same. Both speed their journey with a restless stream : The silent pace with which they steal away. No wealth can bribe, no praj^'rs persuade to stay : Alike irrevocable both when past. And a wide ocean swallows both at last. Though each resemble, each in ev'ry part, A diiF 'rence strikes, at length, the musing heart : Streams never flow in vain ; where streams abound. How laughs the land, with various plenty crown'd ! But time, that should enrich the nobler mind. Neglected, leaves a dreary waste behind. cowp: TO A YOUNG GENTLEMAN LEAVING THE UNIVERSITY. ERE yet, ingenuous Youth, thy steps retire From Cam's smooth margin, and the peaceful vale ; Where Science call'd thee to her studious quire. And met thee musing in her cloisters pale ; CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 87 O ! let thy friend (and may he boast the name) Breathe from his artless reed one parting lay ! A lay like this thy early virtues claim, And this let voluntary friendship pay. Yet know, the time arrives, the dangerous time. When all those virtues, opening now so fair, Transplanted to the world's tempestuous clime. Must learn each passion's boisterous breath to bear. There if Ambition, pestilent and pale. Or Luxury, should taint their vernal glow ; If cold Self-interest, with her chilling gale. Should blast th' unfolding blossoms ere they blow : If mimic hues, by Art or Fashion spread. Their genuine simple colouring should supply ; O ! with them may these laureate honours fade ; And with them (if it can) my friendship die. And do not blame, if, tho' thyself inspire. Cautious I strike the panegyric string ; The Muse full oft pursues a ni'eteor fire. And, vainly vent'rous, soars on waxen wing. Too actively av/ake at Friendship's voice. The poet's bosom pours the fervent strain ; Till sad reflection blames the hasty choice. And oft invokes Oblivion's aid in vain. Go then, my friend, nor let thy candid breast Condemn me, if I check the plausive string ; Go to the wayward world ; complete the rest ; Be what the purest Muse would wish to sing. Be still thyself; that open path of Truth Which led thee here, let Manhood firm pursue ; Retain the sweet simplicity of Youth, And all thy virtue dictates, dare to do. Still scorn, with conscious pride, the mask of Art, On Vice's front let fearful Caution lour ; And teach the diffident, discreeter part Of knaves that plot, and fools that fawn for power. So, round thy brow, when Age's honours spread. When Death's cold hand unstrings thy Mason's lyre, When the green turf lies lightly on his head. Thy v»^orth shall some superior bard inspire. 88 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. He to the amplest bounds of Time's domain, On Rapture's plume shall give thy name to fly ;^ For trust, with rev'rence trust, this Sabine strain Ci " The Muse forbids the virtuous man to die." Mason. AN ODE. "WHAT constitutes a state ? Not high-rais'd battlement and labour'd mound. Thick wall, or moated gate : Not cities proud, with spires and turrets crown'd: Not bays and broad-arm'd ports. Where, laughing at the storm, rich navies ride : Not starr'd and spangled courts. Where low-bred baseness wafts perfume to pride : No — m.en, high-minded men. With powers as far above dull brutes endu'd. In forest, brake, or den. As beasts excel cold rocks and brambles rude : Men, who their duties know. But know their rights ; and, knowing, dare maintain. Prevent the long-aim'd blow. And crush the tyrant, while they rend the chain. These constitute a state : And sovereign Law, that state's collected will, O'er thrones and globes elate. Sits empress, crowning good, repressing ill. Smit by her sacred frown, The fiend Dissension like a vapour sinks ; And e'en th' all-dazzling Crown , Hides his faint rays, and at her bidding shrinks. Such Was this heaven-lov'd Isle, Than Lesbos fairer, and the Cretan shore. No more shall Freedom smile ? Shall Britons languish, and be men no more ? Since all must life resign. Those sweet rewards, that decorate the brave, Tis folly to decline. And sink inglorious to a silent grave. joneb. WHAT are all thy boasted treasures, -iii nsdT Tender sorrows, transient pleasures r ' r ^^ ^ CLASSICAL iidlSLlSH POETRY^'* Sf? Anxious hopes, and jealous fears, tit?p srfi ot sll Laughing hours, and mourning years ! pH nO DeekW with brightest tints at morn, ^UniS m:Pl At twilight, with'ring^ on a thoEfli^l ssoM silT - Like the gentle rose of spring, Chill'd by ev'ry Zephyr's wing : Ah ! how soon its colour flies. Blushes, trembles, falls, and dies. ,^^^ tamw What is youth ? — a smiling sorrowy'''^^^, f 5 Blithe to-day, and sad to-morrow ; '^ , ^ %it Never fix'd, for ever ranging, ^ ^^ ^ Laugliing, weeping, doating, changing; ^^^^ "^'^ , t>j Wild, capricious, giddy, vain, '*' " ' ^ =" Cloy*d with pleasure, nurs'd with pain : Age steals on with wintry face, Ev'ry rapturous hope to chase; ^imi-h ^^ Like a wither'd, sapless tree, ' ' ' ' Bow'd to chilling Fate's decree ; Stripp'd of all its foliage gay. Drooping at the close of day ; What of tedious Life remains ? Keen regrets and cureless pains ; Till Death appears, a welcome friend, -« . . To bid the scene of soi*row end. ^ ^^^,..^ ELEGY. WHY mourns my friend ? Why weeps his downcast eye f That eye where Mirth, where Fancy us'd to shine ! Thy cheerful meads reprove that swelling sigh ; Spring ne'er enamell'd fairer meads than thine» Art thou not lodg'd in Fortune's warm embrace ? Wert thou not form'd by Nature's partial care ? Bless'd in thy song, and bless'd in every grace. That wins the friend, or that enchants the fair ? * Damon,' said he, ' thy partial praise restrain ; * Not Damon's friendship can my peace restore : * Alas ! his very praise awakes my pain, ■-^~ ' And my poor wounded bosom bleeds ^e more. * For, oh ! that Nature on my birth had frown'd \ * Or Fortune fix'd me t16 some lowly cell ! ' Then had my bosom 'seap'd this fatal w6und^\ ' Nor had I bid these v^rnaliiSweetspfeEewelk 1 90 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. ' But led by Fortune's hand, her darling child, * My youth her vain licentious bhss.admir'd : * In Fortune's train, the Syren Flattery smil'd, ' And rashly hallow'd all her queen inspir'd. < Of folly studious, e'en of vices vain ; ^ Ah, vices ! gilded by the rich and gay ! ' I chas'd the guileless daughters of the plain ; ' Nor dropp'd tlie chase, till Jessy was my prey. ' Poor, artless maid ! to stain thy spotless name, ' Expense, and ai't, and toil, united strove ; ' To lure a breast that felt the purest flame, ' Sustain'd by virtue, but betray'd by love. ' School'd in the science of love's mazy wiles, ' I cloth'd each feature with affected scorn ; ' I spoke of jealous doubts, and fickle smiles, * And, feigning, left her anxious and forlorn. * Then while the fancy'd rage alarm'd her care, ' Warm to deny, and zealous to disprove ; ' I bade my words their wonted softness wear, ' And seiz'd the minute of returning love. * To thee, my Damon, dare I paint the rest ? ' Will, yet, thy love a candid ear incline ? ' Assur'd that virtue, by misfortune press'd, " Feels not the sharpness of a pang like mine. ' Nine envious moons matur'd her growing shame ; ' Erewhile to flaunt it in the face of day : ' When scorn'd by virtue, stigmatiz'd by fame, ' Low at my feet desponding Jessy lay.' " Henry," she said, " by thy dear form subdu'd, ** See the sad relics of a nymph undone ! " I find, I find, each rising sob renew'd ; " I sigh in shades, and sicken at the sun. *' Amid the dreary gloom of night, I cry " When will the morn's once pleasing scenes return ? " Yet what can morn's returning ray supply, " But foes that triumph — or, but friends that mourn } " Alas ! no more the joyous mom appears, " That led the tranquil hours of spotless fame ; " For I have steep'd a father's couch in tears, " And ting'd a mother's glowing cheek with shame. CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 91 ** The vocal birds that raise their matin strain, " The sportive lambs increase my pensive moan ! " All seem to chase me from the cheerful plain, " And talk of truth and innocence alone. " If thro' the garden's flow'ry tribes I stray, " Where bloom the jasmines that could once allure"— ' Hope not to find delight in us/ they say, ' For we are spotless, Jessy, we are pure/ " Ye flowers ! that well approach a nymph so frail, " Say, could ye with my virgin fame compare ? " The brightest bud that scents the vernal gale, " Was not so fragrant, and was not so fair. ** Now the grave old alarm the gentler young ; "And all my fame's abhorr'd contagion flee: *' Trembles each lip, cind falters every tongue, *' That bids the morn propitious smile on me. " Thus, for your sake, I shun each human eye ; " I bid the sweets of blooming youth adieu : *' To die I languish ; but I dread to die, '' Lest my sad fate should nourish pangs for you. " Raise me from earth, the pangs of want remove, " And let me silent seek some friendly shore ; " There only, banish'd from the form I love, " My weeping virtue shall relapse no more. " Be but my friend ! I ask no dearer name ; " Be such the meed of some more artful fair : *' Nor could it heal my peace, or chase my shame '' That pity gave what love refus'd to share. " Force not my tongue to ask its scanty bread; " Nor hurl thy Jessy to the vulgar crew ; " Not such the parent's board at which I fed ; '^ Not such the precept from liis lips I drew ! " Haply, when age has silver'd o'er my hair, " Malice may learn to scorn so mean a spoil ; " Envy may slight a face no longer fair, " And Pity welcome to my native soil !" * She spoke — nor was I born of savage race ! ' Nor could these hands a niggard boon assign ; * Grateful she clasp'd me in a last embrace, ' And vow'd to wast her life in pray'rs for mine. 9SP CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. ' I saw her foot the lofty bark ascend ; ' I saw her breast, with every passion heave ; * I left her—torn from every earthly friend : ' Oh ! my hard bosom, which could bear to leave I * Brief let me be — the fatal storm arose ; ' The billows rag'd ; the pilot's art was vain . * O'er the tall mast the circling surges close ; * My Jessy — floats upon the wat'ry plain ! ' And see, my youth's impetuous fires decay ! ' Seek not to stop reflection's bitter tear j ' But wai'n the frolic, and instruct the gay, ' From Jessy, floating on her wat'ry bier/ SHENSTONEi ADAMS MORNING HYMN. THESE are Thy glorious works, Parent of good. Almighty ! Thine this universal frame. Thus wondrous fair ; Thyself how wondrous then ! Unspeakable, who sitt'st above these heav'ns. To us invisible, or dimly seen In these Thy lowest works ; yet these declare Thy goodness beyond thought, and pow'r divine. Speak ye who best can tell, ye sons of light. Angels ! for ye behold him, and with songs And choral symphonies, day without night. Circle his throne rejoicing ; ye in heaven. On earth, join all ye creatures to extol Him first, him last, him midst, and without end. Fairest of stars, last in the train of night. If better thou belong not to the dawn. Sure pledge of day, that crown' st the smiling morn With thy bright circlet, praise him in thy sphere. While day arises, that sweet hour of primfe. Thou sun, of this great world both eye and soul. Acknowledge him thy greater ; sound his praise In thy eternal course, both when thou climb'st. And when high noon hast gain'd, and when thou fall'st. Moon, that now meef st the orient sun, now fly'st With the fix'd stars, fix'd in their orb that flies ; And ye five other wand'ring fires that move;ii^ ■ riA In mystic dance, j^iot without song, resound H ^riW ^' His praise, who out of darkness call'd up li^ht, - Air, and ye elements^ the eldest birth CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 93 Of nature's womb, that in quaternion run Pei-petual circle, multiform, and mix And nourish all things ; let your ceaseless change { I Vary to our great Maker's still new praise. Ye mists and exhalations that now rise From hill or steaming lake, dusky or gray. Till the sun paints your fleecy skirts with gold, Tn honour to the world's great author rise ; Whether to deck with clouds th' uncolour'd sky. Or wet the thirsty earth with falling showers. Rising or falling, still advance his praise. His praise, ye winds, that from four quarters blow. Breathe soft or loud ; and wave your tops, ye pines, Willi every plant, in sign of worship, wave. Fountains, and ye that warble as ye flow. Melodious murmurs warbling, tune his praise. Join voices, all ye living souls : ye birds. That singing, up to heaven's gate ascend. Bear on your wings, and in your notes, his praise. Ye that in waters glide, and ye that walk The eartli, or stately tread, or lowly creep. Witness, if I be silent, mom or even. To hill or valley, fountain or fresh shade. Made vocal by my song, and taught his praise. Hail, universal Lord ! be bounteous still To give us only good ; and if the night Have gathered aught of evil, or conceal'd. Disperse it, as now light dispels the dark, milton. THE HERMIT. AT the close of the day, whem the hamlet is still. And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove ; When nought but the torrent is heard on the hill. And nought but the nightingale's song- in the grove ; 'Twas then by the cave of the mountain reclin'd, A Hermit his nightly complaint thus began : Tho' mournful his numbers, his soul was resign'd ; He thought as a sage, tho' he felt as a man. " Ah ! why, thus abandon'd to darkness and woe ? " Why thus, lonely Philomel, flows thy sad strain ?. " For Spring shall return, and a lover bestow, '7 " And thy bosom no trace of misfortune retain. 9-4 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. " Yet, if pity inspire thee, O cease not thy lay ! " Mourn, sweetest companion, man calls thee to mourn j " O soothe him whose pleasures, like thine, pass away ! " Full quickly they pass — but they never return ! *' Now, gilding remote on the verge of the sky, " The moon, half-extinct, a dim crescent displays ; '•' But lately I mark'd, when majestic on high " She shone, and the planets were lost in her blaze. " Roll on then, fair orb, and with gladness pursue " The path that conducts thee to splendour again : *^ But man's faded glory no change shall renew : " Ah, fool ! to exult in a glory so vain ! " 'Tis night, and the landscape is lovely no more: " I mourn ; but, ye woodlands, I mourn not for you ; '' For morn is approaching, your charms to restore, ^' Perfum'd with fresh fragrance, and glitt'ring with dew. " Nor yet for the ravage of Winter I mourn ; ^' Kind Nature the embryo-blossom shall save : " But when shall Spring visit the mouldering urn ? *' O when shall it dawn on the night of the grave ?" BEATTIK. THE SLAVE TRADE. THERE are, gloomy Ocean ! a brotherlesp clan, Who traverse thy banishing waves. The poor disinherited outcasts of Man, Whom Avarice coins into Slaves ! From the homesof their kindred, their forefathers' graves. Love, Friendship, and Conjugal Bliss, They are bragg'd on the hoary abyss ; The shark hears their shrieks, and ascending to-day Demands of the spoiler his share of the prey ! Then joy to the tempest that whelms them beneath. And makes their destruction its sport ; But woe to the winds that propitiously breathe. And waft them in safety to port. Where the vultures and vampires of Mammon resort ; Where Europe exultingly drains The life-blood from Africa's veins ; Where the image of God is accounted a base. And the image of Caesair set up in its place. CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 95 The hour is approaching — a terrible hour ! And Vengeance is bending her bow ; Ah'eady the clouds of the hurricane lour, And rock-rending whirlwinds blow ; Back rolls the huge Ocean — Hell opens below ; The floods return headlong— they sweep The slave-culturM lands to the deep ; In a moment entomb'd in the horrible void. By their Maker himself^ in his anger destroy'd. Shall this be the fate of the cane-planted isles. More lovely than clouds in the west. When the sun o'er the ocean descending in smiles. Sinks softly and sweetiy to rest ? No !— -Father of Mercy ' befriend the opprest — At the voice of thy Gospel of Peace, May the sorrows of Africa cease,. And the Slave and his Master devoutly unite To walk in thy Freedom, and dwell in thy Light ! MONTGOMERY. THE WORST OF ILLS. WHAT wounds more deep than arrows keen Piercing the heart subdu'd ? What renders life a dreary scene ? Thy sting, IngratituuuI For ev'ry pain that man can know Has still an antidote for woe ; Save where Ingratitude is found. Giving its deep and deadly wound. Does Love neglected, pining sad. On ev'ry joy obtrude ? Does Pleasure fly the bosom glad. Stung by Ingratitude .^ Oh, yes ! for what is life to those W^ho find no hour of soft repose ? Who trace in ev'ry path that weed. Which bids the feeling bosom bleed ? Thou fiend Ingratitude ! to thee All lesser evils bend ; Thou potent shaft of destiny. Where will thy poisons end ? 9© ■? CLASSICAL ENGLISH P^k^R^^ The wretch who smarts beneath thy fang, ;:f Day after day endures the pang ; rbEsT And finds there is no bahn to cure rmgli Thy wound, for ever deep and sure ! ," ^mO Where'er in life's precarious scene 4 nM My weary feet have stray'd, ^^ Thou hast my taunting follower been - In sunshine and in shade. In poverty I found thee ever 1 The bonds of social feelings sever ; :1 And when I sunk, by grief subdu'd, \ I felt thy wound. Ingratitude ! ^ I found thee in the smile of Love, In Friendship's sacred vest. In rustic meekness saw thee move, Pois'ning the untaught breast. When Fortune, often dull and blind, Heap'd splendour on the vulgar mind. Scattering on pride and vice her favour. Ingratitude, I found thee ever. ROBINSON. INDIFFERENCE. FLY, Indifference, hated maid, Seek Spitzbergen's horrid shade; Where old Winter keeps his court. There, fit guest, do thou resort. And thy frosty breast repose Amidst congenial ice and snows , There reside, insipid maid. But ne'er infest my Emma's head. Or else seek the cloister's pale. Where reluctant virgin's veil. In the corner of whose heart Earth with heaven still keeps apart; There thy fullest influence shower. Free poor grace from passion's power ; Give fond Eloisa rest. But shun, O shun, my Emma's breast. Or on Lyce, wanton maid. Be thy chilling finger laid; CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. -^ 97^^ Quench the frolic beam that flies ,< >, ^^rfT From her bright, fantastic eyes : Teach the sweet coquette to know Heart of ice in breast of snow ; ^ ,,[ f Give peace to her, give peace to me. But leave, O leave, my Emma free ! But if thou, in grave disguise, i Seek'st to make that nymph thy prize; If that nymph, deceiv'd by thee. Listens to thy sophistry ; If she courts thy cold embraces. And to thee resigns her graces ; What, alas ! is left for me, But to fly, myself, to thee ? pennant. THE AFRICAN. FAINT-GAZING on the burning orb of day. When Afric's injur'd son expiring lay ; His forehead cold, his labouring bosom bare, His dewy temples, and his .sable hair. His poor companions kiss'd, and cried aloud, Eejoicing, whilst in peace his head he bow'd " Now thy long, long task is done, " Swiftly, brother, wilt thou run, " Ere to-morrow's golden beam " Glitters on thy parent-stream, •' Swiftly the delights to share '' The feast of joy which waits thee there ' " Swiftly, brother, wilt thou ride, " O'er the long and storm}^ tide, ; " Fleeter than the hurricane, t B '* Till thou view those scenes again, '^ Where thy father's hut was rear'd, ; " Where thy mother's voice was heard ! " Where thy infant brother's play'd ^ *' Beneath the fragrant citron s shade ; " Where thro' green savannahs wide '* Cooling rivers silent glide ; *' Or the shrill sigarras sing " Ceaseless to their murmuring ; " Where the dance, the festive song, 1^1 ^^ ^ '' Of many a friend divided long,