[]
THE SHAKSPEARE GALLERY, &c.
ERRATUM.
[]P. 10. l. 1. for o'erblane'd read o'erblanch'd.
[]
THE SHAKSPEARE GALLERY, A POEM. BY MR. JERNINGHAM.
LONDON: PRINTED FOR J. ROBSON, NEW BOND-STREET.
M.DCC.XCI.
[][]
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE JOHN BOYDELL, LORD MAYOR OF THE CITY OF LONDON, THIS POEM IS INSCRIBED, BY HIS OBEDIENT, HUMBLE SERVANT,
EDWD. JERNINGHAM.
ADVERTISEMENT.
[]THE following Poem does not paſs any judgment upon the Pictures that are now exhibited in the Gallery; but attempts to point out new ſubjects for future exhibitions: And, in the delineation of new ſubjects, attention is paid to the principle laid down by our great Painter, (in his notes to the tranſlation of Freſ⯑noy by Mr. MASON) ‘That palpable ſituation is preferable to curious ſentiment, as the Pain⯑ter ſpeaks to the eye.’
The encouragement that is now ſo liberally extended to Painting, will ſoon decide the queſ⯑tion, []Whether or no our Painters are adequate to the taſk they are called upon to perform. MACK⯑LIN'S exhibition is alſo a ſplendid and arduous undertaking: It is another Lyceum, in which riyal Artiſts may contend for fame and emolu⯑ment.
SHAKSPEARE GALLERY, &c.
[]As mus'd the Prophet near mild CHEBAR'S ſtream *,
And pray'd his God to dart th' enlight'ning gleam,
Abrupt-deſcending from his airy height,
A form angelic ruſh'd upon his ſight!
With ſmiling lip he cheer'd the hallow'd Sire,
And bad his ſoul to Heav'n's beſt gift aſpire:
Then, with ſtrong hand, he graſp'd his ſilver hair,
And ſwift convey'd him thro' the yielding air,
Along th' unwinged region of the ſky,
The dread, myſterious, deep abyſs on high.
[2]There Inſpiration her bright cloud withdrew,
And pour'd her viſions on his daring view:
Then on his rapture-kindled eye aroſe
Thoſe forms of ſplendor, thoſe terrific ſhows,
With which he peopled his celeſtial dream,
And ſwell'd his proud magnificence of theme.
To ENGLAND's Leading Bard thus Genius came,
Envelop'd in a robe of holy flame,
And bore him, with a whirlwind's rapid force,
Beyond the ſolar road, and ſtarry courſe;
From which far tow'ring and tremendous height
(While now he hovers with ſuſpended flight)
The Poet view'd, as on a ſpacious plain,
Of human paſſions the long ſhadowy train:
As flings the noon-ſun his clear beams from high,
On the dim tribes he darts his radiant eye.
'Twas then the favor'd Bard receiv'd the lore,
(Whoſe myſtic veil was ne'er remov'd before)
That revelation to his inſtinct giv'n,
That ray from GOD, the energy of Heav'n.
[3]
To his illumin'd ſight was then conſign'd
The deep receſſes of the Human Mind;
The ever-varying path of tortuous Art,
And the dark paſſage to the Tyrant's heart;
Th' umbrageous winding of the thorny road,
That leads to quick-ey'd Jealouſy's abode;
The gath'ring ſtorms that o'er Reſentment roll;
The ſwelling waves that toſs the fearful ſoul;
The calm that breathes around the Infant's reſt,
The rugged cavern of the Murd'rer's breaſt;
The dread materials by the Furies brought,
With which are forg'd Deſpair's tempeſtuous thought;
The ſhaft, that, mingling pleaſure with the pain,
Bathes in the blood that warms the Lover's vein.
Oh Thou! th' IMPERIAL GENIUS of our land!
Take a freſh garland from thy country's hand;
Triumphs unknown ſhe haſtens to proclaim,
And ſtamp a new-born era on thy fame!
[4]Too long, as with the iron power of Fate,
Hath Cuſtom bolted the Hiſtoric Gate;
Enlighten'd BOYDELL burſts th' oppoſing bar,
On their rude hinge the pond'rous portals jar;
While the rapt Arts ſalute, with loud acclaim,
This rich acceſſion to their riſing name.
Genius of PAINTING! thy bright car aſcend,
Bid glowing Energy thy ſteps attend,
Triumphant ride thro' th' unrifled land,
And ſeize thy plunder with victorious hand.
Thou too, who favor'ſt the Promethean toil,
Genius of SCULPTURE! ſhare the ſacred ſpoil!
Let Fancy lift thy blazing urn on high,
Whoſe flame thy bold hand raviſh'd from the ſky;
And on its ſide, with flow'rets breathing round,
Let the immortal name of BANKS be found *
Oft have we heard the pure of taſte complain
Of mawkiſh Portraiture's eternal reign;
[5]Of exhibitions which the art diſgrace,
And pall the eye with many a vacant face.
Let Miniature erect her fairy ſchool,
And 'mid her gewgaws unmoleſted rule;
Let her bright dome each pleas'd Narciſſus ſeek,
To her let Beauty hold her ſummer cheek!
In fond alluſion to the month of May,
Let her the youthful bride's gay form diſplay;
Let her delineate, on her iv'ry plane,
The nuptial ſimper of the happy ſwain!
From theſe we turn to ſcenes of higher aim,
Where Eagle-Genius ſoars to nobler game;
Where Fancy, Reaſon, Taſte, in one conjoin'd,
Unfold the workings of th' impaſſion'd mind.
Now to the laurell'd, academic band,
To ev'ry artiſt's emulative hand,
Munificence upholds her ſacred prize,
And bids the daring reach it from the ſkies.
While Expectation lifts the thought on high,
Methinks I view, with a prophetic eye,
[6]In ſolemn ſtate aſcend that ſplendid Dome,
Where the proud Arts ſhall find an equal home;
Where, at the opening of ſome glorious day,
The Engliſh mind its treaſures ſhall diſplay;
While they, whoſe taſte is ſway'd by Rigor's rule,
Shall mark the wonders of the Albion School *
If time ſhou'd e'er obliterate the gold
Of SHAKSPEARE'S language, caſt in Vigor's mould,
Here ſhall, inveſted in their various guiſe,
The throng of his departed Forms ariſe!
The ſplendid forms his mind luxuriant drew,
The bold creations he held forth to view,
As from their grave ſhall burſt the num'rous hoſt,
And on theſe walls a new exiſtence boaſt.
Here ſhall be ſeen, in all its charms array'd,
Th' impreſſive figure of VERONA's maid: †
Clos'd in the dreary vault where ſleep the dead,
Wrapp'd in the night-dreſs of the fun'ral bed,
[7]She breaks abruptly from her iron trance,
And ſends around a terror-rolling glance:
A mournful, ſolitary lamp ſhall throw
A ſickly glimm'ring o'er the houſe of woe,
And ſhall the wretched PARIS give to view,
Stretch'd on te ground, with mien of ghaſtly hue:
Then ſhall a deeper ſpectacle diſplay,
And hang o'er ROMEO with reluctant ray,
Diſcloſing his wan lips, devoid of breath,
And faint-ros'd cheek, ſtill beautiful in death:
Then ſhall the beam, with weaken'd effort, ſhed.
A fading glory on the FRIAR's head.
She too ſhall ornament the pictur'd ſcene,
The deſtin'd victim of ITALIAN ſpleen *:
See the baſe wretch perform his treach'rous part,
With all the ſubtlety of finiſh'd art!
Behold him bending o'er the ſleeping maid,
Her holy form to his reſearch betray'd!
[8]Eager ſome ſecret notice to retai!,
With rav'nous aim he lifts the ſlender veil,
And leering marks, by Nature's hand impreſt,
The mole cinque-ſpotted on her ſnowy breaſt;
Whoſe ſcatter'd drops to the rapt eye excel
The crimſon ſpots within the cowſlip's bell.
Here too, as patient as the meek-ey'd dove,
Shall ſtand the maid who "never told her love *";
Who, to her coy and fearful boſom true,
(As th' unſeen worm, that pales the bloſſom's hue)
Still let concealment on her beauty prey,
Like ſnow diſſolving ſilently away.
Beneath the roof of a monaſtic pile,
Thro' the receſſes of the length'ning iſle,
A monument ſhall ſtrike the mournful eye,
An imag'd Pity ſhall ſtand drooping nigh,
And (where the lov'd, lamented aſhes ſleep)
Unruffled Patience her long vigil keep.
[9]
Now, at the magic Painter's wild command,
Girt with the ſea, aſcends th' Enchanted Land!
There ſtands Simplicity's endearing child *,
That artleſs Maid! the flow'ret of the wild!
Beſide the margin of the wave-vex'd ſhore,
While all around conflicting thunders roar,
With unbound treſſes, flutt'ring to the wind,
Her eye expreſſive of her tortur'd mind,
She views the veſſel, by the ſurges toſt,
Now ſeen—now loſt—now found—now once more loſt:
Till, madly ruſhing on the pointed rock,
Its boſom riven with the forceful ſhock,
Beyond the ſtretch of naval art to ſave,
Down, down, it hurries to the watery grave!
Now PROSPERO comes, with magic arts endu'd,
His ſable garb with hieroglyphics ſtrew'd;
Long care, long ſtudy, ſolitude profound,
Has deepen'd on his brow reflection's wound;
[10]His long-deſcending hair, o'erblanch'd with age,
Becomes the Sorc'rer, and adorns the Sage:
Ah! view him at that dread, momentous hour,
While he abjures his necromantic pow'r!
Within the ring of Incantation's ground,
Elves, Fairies, Spirits, Demons, flock around:
Beneath his foot behold the potent wand,
Doom'd ne'er again to grace his lifted hand!
Behold the volume, which (with myſt'ry fraught)
Predeſtination's darkling edicts taught,
And breath'd its ſolemn whiſpers on the mind,
With duſt o'erſpread, and to neglect conſign'd!
Yet then the diſtant ſcenery imparts
A dire remembrance of his former arts:
The bright ſun fading in his full career,
The wild ſtars madly ſtarting from their ſphere,
The ſtorm-encumber'd ſky, the ſwelling main,
Th' uprooted cedars ſtretching o'er the plain,
The mountain looſen'd by convulſive throe,
With ruin ruſhing to the vale below,
[11]And the pale wretch, reverſing Nature's doom,
Abruptly riſing from the rifted tomb!
What glowing Artiſt with bold hand ſhall claim
To draw, oh ARIEL! thy reſplendent frame?
Thou trickſy Spirit with benignant ſmile,
Thou playful meteor of th' Enchanted Iſle!
Not like a ſea-nymph, rob'd in ſickly green,
With dappled wings, as on the Stage thou'rt ſeen,
A gay tranſparency ſhalt thou appear,
Thy form celeſtial melting into air,
With foot light-touching ſome fantaſtic height,
Prompt to depart, and ſtretching to thy flight,
Yet, ere we ſail from this Enchanted Iſle,
Let other ſcenes our ling'ring ſteps beguile:
There ſtands ANTHONIO, the ſuggeſting fiend,
And half reveals his purpoſe to his friend;
His boſom ſwells, his madd'ning eye-balls roll,
And ſhew the workings of his inmoſt ſoul.
[12]All that his lawleſs, wild conceptions dare,
In various forms hang hov'ring in the air:
A ſword freſh-tainted with ALONZO's blood,
A ſceptre ſwimming in a crimſon flood,
A crown with dazzling ornaments o'erſpread,
And lightly floating o'er SEBASTIAN's head;
While, in the diſtance, riſing o'er the bay,
Imperial Naples ſhall her tow'rs diſplay.
Lo! now, advancing on the mimic ſcence,
Comes forth to view the fam'd Egyptian Queen *;
While anxious doubts her Soldier's mind perplex,
Behold her riſe inſtructive to her ſex!
Ah, not ſuperior! for the female heart
Endures with fortitude the ſuff'ring part.
Tow'ring beyond the flight of tim'rous love,
She bids her Warrior from her ſight remove;
She points her finger to the martial plain,
Points to the active and the daring train:
[13]The threat'ning axes which the Faſces bear;
The gorgeous ſtreamers ſwelling to the air;
Of buſy legions the thick murm'ring ſwarms;
The thronging ſhields, and high-emblazon'd arms;
Th' encumbering elephant, the rapid ſteed,;
And ſpoils of former conqueſt, Glory's meed;
Fluſh'd Conqueſt, riding in his trophied car,
And all the dread magnificence of war.
Now ſhall the fell, tremendous act be done,
The Thane * appears!—the warning clock ſtrikes One!
His daring, wild imaginings create
(Such the hot chaos of his mental ſtate)
The air born dagger, and diſplay to view
The point obſcene, diſtain'd with crimſon hue.
Still, as we gaze, ſhall new creations riſe,
And varying ſceneries prolong ſurpriſe:
Ere yet the ſky-lark leaves his lowly bed,
Bright on the miſt-encircled mountain's head,
[14]See jocund Day on airy tiptoe ſtrand,
And ope the gates of Heav'n with radiant hand!
Now, like two lions litter'd on one day *,
Who range the dreary wilds, and ſhare the prey,
I ſee, in dreadful harmony combin'd,
Th' illuſtrious Pair who dignify mankind!
The ſummer-cloud, that dimm'd their friendſhip's ray,
The paſſing ſummer-gale hath borne away;
Yet CASSIUS then upbraids th' unmanly grief,
That from the moral Porch claims no relief:
With low'ring aſpect, but with tearleſs eyes,
The grief-torn, inly-bleeding friend replies;
"Ah! not in vain was I with Stoics bred,
"For yet art thou to learn, that PORTIA's dead."
The hair-diſhevell'd Propheteſs of Troy †
Shall next th Painter's hallow'd hand employ:
[15]She, with bold Divination's meteor-eye,
Pervades the awful ſecrets of the ſky;
The woes of her lov'd country ſhe foretels,
And on her brother's death prolixly dwells.
ANDROMACHE, impreſs'd with tender fears,
At the prophetic ſtrain diſſolves in tears;
While HECTOR's ſcorn-denouncing looks upbraid
The vapoury day-dreams of the wild'ring Maid:
While PRIAM, bending at the weight of age,
Rever'd, parental, patriarchal Sage!
Half credits, half rejects, the tragic tale,
Till terrors o'er his fading hopes prevail.
Whence yonder radiant form that charms the eye?
'Tis Expectation, riding thro' the ſky!
A ſword-like inſtrument ſhe waves around,
Enwreath'd with coronets, with chaplets bound,
Prepar'd for HENRY and his faithful train,
Eager to urge the war o'er Gallia's plain.
[16]
Behold the Legate from the ſacred Dome *,
In the rich garb of ſacerdotal Rome!—
CONSTANCE approaches! ſpurning at relief,
Attir'd in all the negligence of grief:
In her fierce graſp ſhe ſhews her rooted hair,
Preſenting well the image of Deſpair;
And ſeems to cry aloud, in accents wild,
"He talks to me, who never had a child!"
Mark where the blood-fed lamps, with crimſon ray †,
The ragged entrails of a cave diſplay:
There, on a craggy ſeat, the Wizard's throne,
Sits, in rude pomp, th' emaciated Crone;
She lifts a pale and wither'd hand on high,
And on the Phantom rolls her ſavage eye,
Whoſe doubtful form confounds th' enquiring ſight,
One part reveal'd, the other loſt in night:
From this abhorr'd interpreter of fate,
The Hag demands the future ſtorms of ſtate,
[17]When the Sixth HENRY, prince of dim renown,
Shall loſe, what ill becomes him—England's crown.
Ye, who to martial fame your ſpirit yield,
Who pant to reap the honors of the field,
See the Third EDWARD, from the mountain's brow,
Survey, with madd'ning glance, the plain below:
He there beholds (by ſacred Glory won)
In Danger's van his dear and godlike Son:
He views with wonder, and with mingled fear,
(His eye-lid gliſt'ning with Affection's tear)
With pride, applauſe, and with a Father's joy,
The firſt achievements of th' immortal Boy *!
Lo! the Eighth HENRY, from his doubts releas'd,
Devotes to infamy th' aſpiring Prieſt †:
The Monarch hails him as he paſſes by,
With ruin leaping from his threat'ning eye:
[18]The Prelate, ſtruck as by the blaſt of Death,
Looks the ſcath'd oak upon the naked heath.
The diſtant ſcene ſhall yield illumin'd night,
With one ſtar falling from its airy height,
Thy emblem, WOLSEY!—thou waſt England's ſtar,
And thy rich luſtre dazzled from afar;
Till thou (too daring) waſt, by public hate,
Flung from the ſplendor of thy tow'ring ſtate.
With ſearful ſteps we now approach the bed
Where Scotland's King reclines his weary head:
Mark, mark the ſavage Thane's * more ſavage Wife,
Who brandiſhes aloft the thirſty knife!
One moment—and the victim is no more;
One moment—and he welters in his gore!
When ſudden, thro' her ſoul's encircling night,
Flaſhes a glimm'ring of a moral light:
O'er the calm features of the ſleeping Gueſt
She ſees her Father's image full expreſt †!
[19]Tis Nature's miracle!—the Fiend relents,
Her alter'd mien a ſickly ſmile preſents;
Affection ſubjugates her lawleſs ſoul,
Her boſom heaves, and tears begin to roll.
Say, to whoſe proud ambition ſhall be giv'n
A pencil glowing with the tints of Heav'n,
With which the wild Enthuſiaſt ſhall aſpire
To body forth th' ecſtatic Muſe of Fire? *?
At the gay opening of the ſplendid ſky
The Seraph enters, with commanding eye,
Her radiant viſitant Invention hails,
And all her waſte magnificence reveals:
A diamond-rock ſuſtains the gorgeous Queen,
That flings a brilliance o'er th' expanſive ſcene;
The various Arts their ſovereign Miſtreſs own,
And bend with low obeiſance at her throne:
[20]See, to the Muſe the Goddeſs holds a crown,
Bright on whoſe front is character'd "RENOWN!"
A ſubject now unfolds of meeker claim *,
Yet ſeeks the heart with unreſiſted aim:
The faithful Servant on the ſcene appears,
Impreſs'd, but not o'ercharg'd, with weight of years:
The glow of health ſtill bluſhes on his cheek,
As on the winter-fruit the ruddy ſtreak:
His tearful eyes his Maſter's wants behold,
And to thoſe wants he yields the hoarded gold:
Methinks he ſays, "With this thy care aſſuage;
"For me, let Him be comfort to my age,
"Whoſe tender providence the Raven feeds,
"And to the Sparrow yields the daily ſeeds."
See where the chiſel, with victorious ſtrife,
Has urg'd the torpid matter into life!
Lo! the bold Roman to our view conſign'd,
His air reflective of his haughty mind;
[21]Spite of the foldings of a mean diſguiſe,
His frame majeſtic ſtrikes th' admiring eyes:
So the tall veſſel, ſhatter'd by the ſtorm,
Retains her native dignity of form:
Behold him, at the hour of conſcious pride,
And prompting worth, to confidence allied,
What time he utters, with commanding air,
"My name breathes terror on a Volſcian ear!"
This high, heroic taſk, by Genius plann'd,
Avows th' impreſſion of a female hand *:
Illuſtrious DAMER! tho' thy ſplendid name
Decks, like a ſtar, the pinnacle of fame,
Yet only they who mark, with aſpect near,
The humbler orb of thy domeſtic ſphere,
Can tell (from all the rougher parts refin'd)
How Learning ſits enamell'd on thy mind;
How ſtill, thro' various life's eventful ſcene,
Thy friendſhip wears th' unfading robe of green!—
[22]
NOR ſhall each taſk unfold the ſolemn ſcene
Hung with the drap'ry of the Tragic Queen:
With airy ſtep THALIA ſhall advance,
And dart around her grief-expelling glance,
Group the fantaſtic forms of Humour's court,
And bid the Pleaſures o'er the landſcape ſport.
Where'er our Bard diſplays his magic pow'rs,
Where'er he treads, ariſe ſpontaneous flow'rs,
Which o'er the pallet brighter tints ſhall throw,
While the live pencil drinks a richer glow.
See where the Birds forſake the realms of air *,
And to yon melancholy ſpot repair;
Where preſs the bier thoſe images of love,
The radiant Phenix and the faithful Dove:
Juſt o'er the ſummit of the funeral pyre,
Wak'd by the gale, aſcends the ſacred fire.
There Philomela ſwells her little throat,
To grace the requiem with her ſaddeſt note:
[23]There too the pitying Red-breaſt ſhall be ſeen,
And in his bill a leaf of pureſt green:
The Swallow ſhall his circling ſport forego,
And join this meek ſociety of woe:
The joyous Sky-lark, by compaſſion won,
Shall check his wonted anthem to the ſun,
And, ſwift-deſcending from his radiant height,
Devote his muſic to the hallow'd rite.
E'en birds ſhall here be ſeen of ampler form,
Who ſlowly ſail, and dare the gath'ring ſtorm:
The Vulture here ſhall come, at Sorrow's call,
And the dark Raven ſpread his hov'ring pall:
The Bird of JOVE ſhall from his heav'n deſcend,
And with this train his awful preſence blend.
Ye who, with finer ſympathies impreſt,
Avow th' immaculate and ſeeling breaſt,
O white-ſtol'd Virgins! in long order move,
True to the ritual of the cypreſs grove;
And, while your ſouls with chaſte affection burn,
With garlands deck the emblematic urn.
[24]
Ah! now the zeal that warms my throbbing heart
For all who honor the Poetic art,
Ferments my boſom to this ſtrong deſire,
That He who led the Bard's theatric quire,
Whom England mourns—recording ſtill his name,
Who grappled to his own his SHAKSPEARE's fame,
That He, by Sculptor imag'd, here may ſtand,
In act to ſpeak what his great Idol plann'd.
Thus have we travers'd the extenſive plain,
Mark'd where the mine contains the ſwelling vein;
Mark'd where the choſen trees their branches ſhoot,
And pluck'd the leaves that veil the Golden Fruit!
FINIS.
Notes
*
EZEKIEL, Chap. 8th.
*
See the alto-relievo in the front of the gallery, which does honor to modern Statuary.
*
Another gallery is to be erected, for the purpoſe of receiving the whole collection, when completed.
†
JULIET.
*
IMOGEN.
*
VIOLA.
*
MIRANDA.
*
ANTHONY AND CLEOPATRA, Act 1ſt, Scene 3d, at the end.
*
MACBETH.
*
JULIUS CAESAR, Act 4th, Scene 3d.
†
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA, Act 5th, Scene 3d.
*
KING JOHN, Act 3d, Scene 4th.
†
HENRY SIXTH, Part II. Act 1ſt, Scene 4th.
*
HENRY FIFTH, Act 1ſt, Scene 2d.
†
HENRY EIGHTH, Act 3d, Scene 2d.
*
MACBETH.
†
Act 2d, Scene 2d.—LADY MACBETH. "Had he not reſembled my Father as he ſlept, I had don't."
*
HENRY FIFTH, the Prologue.
"O for a Muſe of Fire, that would aſcend
"The brighteſt heaven of Invention!"
*
AS YOU LIKE IT, Act 2d, Scene 3d.
*
See the Baſſo-Relievo by the Honourable ANN DAMER.—CORIOLANUS, Act 4th, Scene 5th.
*
See the Poems.—"The Paſſionate Pilgrim", at the end.
- Zitationsvorschlag für dieses Objekt
- TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 3480 The Shakspeare gallery a poem By Mr Jerningham. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-5924-8