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THE WANDERER: A POEM. In FIVE CANTO's.

By RICHARD SAVAGE, Son of the late Earl RIVERS.

Nulla mali nova mî facies inopinave ſurgit.

Virg.

LONDON: Printed for J. WALTHOE, over-againſt the Royal Exchange, in Cornhill. 1729. [Price Two Shillings.]

To the Right Honourable JOHN, Lord Viſcount Tyrconnel, Baron Charleville, and Lord Brownlowe: Knight of the Bath.

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My LORD,

PART of this POEM had the Honour of your Lordſhip's Peruſal when in Manuſcript, and it was no ſmall Pride to me, when it met with [4] Approbation from ſo diſtinguiſh⯑ing a Judge: Should the reſt find the like Indulgence, I ſhall have no Occaſion (whatever its Succeſs may be in the World) to repent the Labour it has coſt me.—But my Intention is not to purſue a Diſcourſe on my own Performance; No, my Lord, it is to embrace this Opportunity of throwing out Sentiments that re⯑late to your Lordſhip's Goodneſs, the Generoſity of which, give me Leave to ſay, I have greatly ex⯑perienc'd.

I offer it not as a new Remark, that Dependance on the Great, in former Times, generally ter⯑minated in Diſappointment; nay, even their Bounty (if it could be [5] called ſuch) was in its very Na⯑ture ungenerous. It was, per⯑haps, with-held thro' an indolent, or wilful Neglect, 'till thoſe, who lingered in the Want of it, grew almoſt paſt the Senſe of Comfort. At length it came, too often, in a Manner, that half cancell'd the Obligation, and, perchance, muſt have been acquired too by ſome previous Act of Guilt in the Re⯑ceiver, the Conſequence of which was Remorſe and Infamy.

But that I live, my Lord, is a Proof that Dependance on your Lordſhip, and the preſent Mini⯑ſtry, is an Aſſurance of Succeſs. I am perſuaded Diſtreſs, in many other Inſtances, affects your Soul with a Compaſſion, that always [6] ſhews itſelf in a manner moſt hu⯑mane and active; that to forgive Injuries, and confer Benefits, is your Delight; and that to deſerve your Friendſhip is to deſerve the Countenance of the beſt of Men: To be admitted into the Honour of your Lordſhip's Converſation (permit me to ſpeak but Juſtice) is to be elegantly introduced into the moſt inſtructive, as well as entertaining, Parts of Literature; it is to be furniſh'd with the fineſt Obſervations upon human Na⯑ture, and to receive from the moſt unaſſuming, ſweet, and winning Candour, the worthieſt and moſt polite Maxims—Such as are always enforc'd by the Actions of your own Life. I could alſo take Notice of your many pub⯑lick-ſpirited [7] Services to your Country in Parliament, and your conſtant Attachment to Liberty, and the Royal, Illuſtri⯑ous Houſe of our Moſt Gracious Sovereign; But, my Lord, be⯑lieve me, your own Deeds are the nobleſt and fitteſt Orators to ſpeak your Praiſe, and will elevate it far beyond the Power of a much abler Writer than I am.

I will therefore turn my View from your Lordſhip's Virtues to the kind Influence of them, which has been ſo lately ſhed upon me; and then, if my future Mo⯑rals and Writings ſhall gain any Approbation from Men of Parts and Probity, I muſt acknowledge all to be the Product of your [8] Lordſhip's Goodneſs to me. I muſt, in fine, ſay with Horace,

Quod ſpiro, & placeo (ſi placeo) tuum eſt.

I am, with the higheſt Grati⯑tude and Veneration,

My LORD,

Your Lordſhip's moſt Dutiful And Devoted Servant, R. SAVAGE.

[] THE WANDERER. A VISION. In Five CANTOS.

CANTO I.

FAIN wou'd my Verſe, TYRCONNEL, boaſt thy Name,
BROWNLOW, at once my Subject, and my Fame!
Oh! cou'd that Spirit, which thy Boſom warms,
Whoſe Strength ſurprizes, and whoſe Goodneſs charms!
That various Worth!—cou'd that inſpire my Lays,
Envy ſhou'd ſmile, and Cenſure learn to praiſe:
[2] Yet, tho' unequal to a Soul, like thine,
A generous Soul, approaching to Divine,
When bleſs'd beneath ſuch Patronage I write,
Great my Attempt, tho' hazardous my Flight.

O'er ample Nature I extend my Views;
Nature to rural Scenes invites the Muſe:
She flies all public Care, all venal Strife,
To try the Still, compar'd with Active Life;
To prove, by theſe the Sons of Men may owe
The Fruits of Bliſs to burſting Clouds of Woe,
That ev'n Calamity, by Thought refin'd,
Inſpirits, and adorns the thinking Mind.

Come, CONTEMPLATION, whoſe unbounded Gaze,
Swift in a Glance, the Courſe of Things, ſurveys;
[3] Who in Thy-ſelf the various View can'ſt find
Of Sea, Land, Air, and Heav'n, and human Kind;
What Tides of Paſſion in the Boſom roll;
What Thoughts debaſe, and what exalt the Soul;
Whoſe Pencil paints, obſequious to thy Will,
All thou ſurvey'ſt, with a creative Skill!
Oh, leave a-while thy lov'd, ſequeſter'd Shade!
A-while in wintry Wilds vouchſafe thy Aid!
Then waft me to ſome olive, bow'ry Green;
Where, cloath'd in white, thou ſhew'ſt a Mind ſerene;
Where kind Content from Noiſe, and Court retires,
And ſmiling ſits, while Muſes tune their Lyres:
Where Zephyrs gently breathe, while Sleep profound
To their ſoft Fanning nods, with Poppies crown'd,
Sleep on a Treaſure of bright Dreams reclines,
By thee beſtow'd; whence Fancy colour'd ſhines,
[4] And flutters round his Brow a hov'ring Flight,
Varying her Plumes in viſionary Light.

The ſolar Fires now faint, and watry burn,
Juſt where with Ice Aquarius frets his Urn!
If thaw'd, full-iſſue from its Mouth ſevere,
Raw Clouds, that ſadden all th'inverted Year.

When FROST and FIRE with martial Pow'rs en⯑gag'd,
FROST, northward, fled the War, unequal wag'd!
Beneath the Pole his Legions urg'd their Flight,
And gain'd a Cave profound, and wide as Night.
O'er chearleſs Scenes by Deſolation own'd,
High on an Alp of Ice he ſits enthron'd!
One clay-cold Hand, his cryſtal Beard, ſuſtains,
And ſcepter'd One, o'er Wind, and Tempeſt, reigns;
[5] O'er ſtony Magazines of Hail, that ſtorm
The bloſſom'd Fruit, and flow'ry Spring deform.
His languid Eyes, like frozen Lakes, appear,
Dim-gleaming all the Light, that wanders here.
His Robe ſnow-wrought, and hoar'd with Age; his Breath
A nitrous Damp, that ſtrikes pertific Death.

Far hence lies, ever-freez'd, the Northern Main,
That checks, and renders Navigation vain,
That, ſhut againſt the Sun's diſſolving Ray,
Scatters the trembling Tides of vanquiſh'd Day,
And ſtretching Eaſtward half the World ſecures,
Defies Diſcov'ry, and like Time endures!

Now FROST ſent boreal Blaſts to ſcourge the Air,
To bind the Streams, and leave the Landſcape bare;
[6] Yet when far-weſt, his Violence declines;
Tho' here the Brook, or Lake, his Pow'r confines;
To rocky Pools, to Cat'racts are unknown
His Chains!—to Rivers, rapid like the Rhone!

The falling Moon caſt cold, a quiv'ring Light,
Juſt ſilver'd o'er the Snow, and ſunk!—Pale Night
Retir'd. The Dawn in light-grey Miſts aroſe!
Shrill chants the Cock!—the hungry Heifer lows!
Slow bluſh yon breaking Clouds!—the Sun's up⯑roll'd!
Th'expanſive Grey turns azure, chac'd with Gold;
White-glitt'ring Ice, chang'd like the Topaz, gleams,
Reflecting Saffron Luſtre from his Beams.

O Contemplation, teach me to explore,
From Britain far remote, ſome diſtant Shore!
[7] From Sleep a Dream diſtinct, and lively Claim;
Clear let the Viſion ſtrike the Moral's Aim!
It comes! I feel it o'er my Soul ſerene!
Still Morn begins, and Froſt retains the Scene!

Hark!—the loud Horn's enlivening Note's begun!
From Rock to Vale ſweet-wand'ring Echoes run!
Still floats the Sound ſhrill-winding from afar!
Wild Beaſts aſtoniſh'd dread the Sylvan War!
Spears to the Sun in Files embattled play,
March on, charge briskly, and enjoy the Fray!

Swans, Ducks, and Geeſe, and the wing'd, Winter Brood,
Chatter diſcordant on yon echoing Flood!
At Babel thus, when Heav'n the Tongue con⯑founds,
Sudden a thouſand different, jargon Sounds,
[8] Like jangling Bells, harſh-mingling, grate the Ear!
All ſtare! all talk! all mean; but none cohere!
Mark! wiley Fowlers meditate their Doom,
And ſmoky Fate ſpeeds thund'ring thro' the Gloom!
Stop'd ſhort, they ceaſe in airy Rings to fly,
Whirl o'er, and o'er, and, flutt'ring, fall and die.

Still Fancy wafts me on! deceiv'd I ſtand,
Eſtrang'd, adventrous on a foreign Land!
Wide and more wide extends the Scene unknown!
Where ſhall I turn, a Wanderer, and alone?

From hilly Wilds, and Depths where Snows re⯑main,
My winding Steps up a ſteep Mountain ſtrain!
Emers'd a-top I mark the Hills ſubſide,
And Tow'rs aſpire but with inferior Pride!
[9] On this bleak Height tall Firs, with Ice-work crown'd,
Bend, while their flaky Winter ſhades the Ground!
Hoarſe, and direct, a bluſt'ring North-wind blows!
On Boughs, thick-ruſtling, crack the criſpid Snows!
Tangles of Froſt half fright the wilder'd Eye,
By Heat oft blacken'd like a low'ring Sky!
Hence down the Side two turbid Riv'lets pour,
And devious Two, in one huge Cat'ract, roar!
While pleas'd the watry Progreſs I purſue,
Yon Rocks in rough Aſſemblage ruſh in View!
In form an Amphitheatre they riſe;
And a dark Gulph in their broad Center lies.
There the dim'd Sight with dizzy Weakneſs fails,
And Horror o'er the firmeſt Brain prevails!
Thither theſe Mountain-ſtreams their Paſſage take,
Headlong foam down, and form a dreadful Lake!
[10] The Lake, high-ſwelling, ſo redundant grows,
From the heap'd Store deriv'd a River flows;
Which deep'ning travels thro' a diſtant Wood,
And, thence emerging, meets a Siſter-flood;
Mingled they flaſh on a wide-opening Plain,
And paſs yon City to the far-ſeen Main.

So blend two Souls by Heav'n for Union made,
And ſtrength'ning forward, lend a mutual Aid,
And prove in ev'ry tranſient Turn their Aim,
Thro' finite Life to infinite the ſame.

Nor ends the Landſcape—Ocean, to my Sight,
Points a blue Arm, where ſailing Ships delight,
In Proſpect leſſen'd!—Now new Rocks, rear'd high,
Stretch a croſs Ridge, and bar the curious Eye!

[11]There lies obſcur'd the ripening Diamond's Ray,
And thence red-branching Coral's rent away.
In conic Form there gelid Cryſtal grows;
Thro' ſuch the Palace-Lamp, gay Luſtre, throws!
Luſtre, which, thro' dim Night, as various plays,
As play from yonder Snows the changeful Rays!
For nobler Uſe the Cryſtal's Worth may riſe,
If Tubes perſpective hem the ſpotleſs Prize;
Thro' theſe the Beams of the far-lengthen'd Eye
Meaſure known Stars, and new remoter ſpy.
Hence Commerce many a ſhorten'd Voyage ſteers,
Shorten'd to Months, the Hazard once of Years;
Hence HALLEY's Soul etherial Flight eſſays;
Inſtructive there from Orb to Orb ſhe ſtrays;
Sees, round new countleſs Suns, new Syſtems roll!
Sees God in All! and magnifies the Whole!
[10] [...][11] [...][12] Yon rocky Side enrich'd the Summer Scene,
And Peaſant's Search with Herbs of healthful Green;
Now naked, pale, and comfortleſs it lies,
Like Youth extended cold in Death's Diſguiſe.
There, while without the ſounding Tempeſt ſwells,
Incav'd ſecure th'exulting Eagle dwells;
And there, when Nature owns prolific Spring,
Spreads o'er her Young a fondling Mother's Wing.
Swains on the Coaſt the far-fam'd Fiſh deſcry,
That gives the fleecy Robe the Tyrian Dye;
While Shells, a ſcatter'd Ornament, beſtow;
The tinctur'd Rivals of the ſhow'ry Bow.
Yon limeleſs Sands, looſe-driving with the Wind,
In future Cauldrons uſeful Texture find,
Till, on the Furnace thrown, the glowing Maſs
Brightens, and bright'ning hardens into Glaſs.
[13] When winter Halcyons, flick'ring on the Wave,
Tune their Complaints, yon Sea forgets to rave;
Tho' laſh'd by Storms, which naval Pride o'erturn,
The foaming Deep in Sparkles ſeems to burn,
Loud Winds turn Zephyrs to enlarge their Notes,
And each ſafe Neſt on a calm Surface floats.

Now veers the Wind full Eaſt; and keen, and ſore,
Its cutting Influence akes in ev'ry Pore!
How weak thy Fabrick, Man!—A Puff, thus blown,
Staggers thy Strength, and echoes to thy Groan.
A Tooth's minuteſt Nerve let Anguiſh ſeize,
Swift kindred Fibres catch! (ſo frail our Eaſe!)
Pinch'd, pierc'd, and torn, enflam'd, and unaſ⯑ſuag'd,
They ſmart, and ſwell, and throb, and ſhoot en⯑rag'd!
From Nerve to Nerve fierce flies th'exulting Pain!
—And are we of this mighty Fabrick vain?
[14] Now my Blood chills! ſcarce thro' my Veins it glides!
Sure on each Blaſt a ſhiv'ring Ague rides!
Warn'd let me this bleak Eminence forſake,
And to the Vale a diff'rent Winding take!

Half I deſcend: My Spirits faſt decay;
A Terraſs now relieves my weary Way.
Cloſe with this Stage a Precipice combines;
Whence ſtill the ſpacious Country far declines!
The Herds ſeem Inſects in the diſtant Glades,
And Men diminiſh'd, as at Noon their Shades!
Thick on this Top o'ergrown for Walks are ſeen
Grey, leafleſs Wood, and winter Greens between!
The red'ning Berry, deep-ting'd Holly ſhows,
And matted Miſleto, the white, beſtows!
Tho', loſt the Banquet of autumnal Fruits,
Tho' on broad Oaks, no vernal Umbrage ſhoots;
[15] Theſe Boughs, the ſilenc'd, ſhiv'ring Songſters ſeek!
Theſe foodful Berries fill the hungry Beak.

Beneath appears a Place, all outward bare,
Inward the dreary Manſion of Deſpair!
The Water of the Mountain-Road, half-ſtray'd,
Breaks o'er it wild, and falls a brown Caſcade.

Has Nature this rough, naked Piece deſign'd,
To hold Inhabitant of mortal Kind?
She has. Approach'd, appears a deep Deſcent,
Which opens in a Rock a large Extent!
And hark!—its hollow Entrance reach'd, I hear
A trampling Sound of Footſteps haſt'ning near!
A death-like Chillneſs thwarts my panting Breaſt:
Soft! the wiſh'd Object ſtands at length confeſt!
[16] Of Youth his Form!—But why with Anguiſh bent?
Why pin'd with ſallow Marks of Diſcontent?
Yet Patience, lab'ring to beguile his Care,
Seems to raiſe Hope, and ſmiles away Deſpair.
Compaſſion in his Eye ſurveys my Grief,
And in his Voice invites me to Relief.
Preventive of thy Call, behold my haſte,
(He ſays.) Nor let warm Thanks thy Spirits waſte!
All Fear forget—Each Portal I poſſeſs,
Duty wide-opens to receive Diſtreſs.
Oblig'd, I follow, by his Guidance led:
The vaulted Roof re-echoing to our Tread!
And now, in ſquar'd Diviſions, I ſurvey
Chambers ſequeſter'd from the Glare of Day;
Yet needful Lights, are taught to intervene,
Thro' Rifts; each forming a perſpective Scene.

[17]In Front a Parlour meets my ent'ring View;
Oppos'd, a Room to ſweet Refection due.
Here my chill'd Veins are warm'd by chippy Fires,
Thro' the bor'd Rock above, the Smoke expires;
Neat, o'er a homely Board, a Napkin's ſpread,
Crown'd with a heapy Caniſter of Bread.
A Maple Cup is next diſpatch'd, to bring
The Comfort of the ſalutary Spring:
Nor mourn we abſent Bleſſings of the Vine,
Here laughs a frugal Bowl of roſy Wine;
And ſav'ry Cates, upon clear Embers caſt,
Lie hiſſing, till ſnatch'd off; a rich Repaſt!
Soon leap my Spirits with enliven'd Pow'r,
And in gay Converſe glides the feaſtful Hour.

[18]The Hermit, thus: Thou wonder'ſt at thy Fare:
On me, yon City, kind, beſtows her Care;
Meat for keen Famine, and the gen'rous Juice,
That warms chill'd Life, her Charities produce:
Accept without Reward; unask'd 'twas mine;
Here what thy Health requires, as free be thine.
Hence learn that GOD, (who, in the Time of Need,
In frozen Deſarts can the Raven feed)
Well-ſought, will delegate ſome pitying Breaſt,
His ſecond Means, to ſuccour Man diſtreſt.
He paus'd. Deep Thought upon his Aſpect gloom'd;
Then He, with Smile humane, his Voice reſum'd.
I'm juſt inform'd, (and laugh me not to ſcorn)
By One unſeen by thee, thou'rt Engliſh-born.
Of England I—To me the Britiſh State,
Riſes, in dear Memorial, ever great!
[19] Here ſtand we conſcious!—Diffidence ſuſpend!
Free flow our Words!—Did ne'er thy Muſe extend
To Grots, where Contemplation ſmiles ſerene,
Where Angels viſit, and where Joys convene?
To Groves, where more than mortal Voices riſe,
Catch the rapt Soul, and waft it to the Skies?
This Cave!—Yon Walks!—But e'er I more unfold,
What artful Scenes, thy Eyes ſhall here behold,
Think Subjects of my Toil: nor wond'ring gaze!
What cannot Induſtry completely raiſe?
Be the whole Earth in one great Landſcape found,
By Induſtry is all with Beauty crown'd!
He, He alone explores the Mine for Gain,
Hues the hard Rock, or harrows up the Plain;
He forms the Sword to ſmite; He ſheaths the Steel,
Draws Health from Herbs, and ſhews the Balm to heal;
[20] Or with loom'd Wool the native Robe ſupplies;
Or bids young Plants in future Foreſts riſe;
Or fells the monarch Oak; which, borne away,
Shall with new Grace the diſtant Ocean ſway;
Hence golden Commerce views her Wealth encreaſe,
The bliſsful Child of Liberty and Peace.
He ſcoops the ſtubborn Alps, and, ſtill employ'd,
Fills with ſoft, fertile Mold the ſteril Void;
Slop'd up white Rocks, ſmall, yellow Harveſts grow,
And, green on terraſs'd Stages, Vineyards blow!
By him fall Mountains to a level Space,
An Iſthmus ſinks, and ſunder'd Seas embrace!
He founds a City on the naked Shore,
And Deſolation ſtarves the Tract no more.
From the wild Waves he won the Belgic Land;
Where wide they foam'd, her Towns, and Traf⯑ficks ſtand;
[21] He clear'd, manur'd, enlarg'd the furtive Ground,
And firms the Conqueſt with his fenceful Mound.
Ev'n Mid the watry World his Venice roſe,
Each Fabric there, as Pleaſure's Seat he ſhows!
There Marts, Sports, Councils are for Action ſought,
Landſcapes for Health, and Solitude for Thought.
What wonder then I, by his potent Aid,
A Manſion in a barren Mountain made?
Part thou haſt view'd!—If further we explore,
Let Induſtry deſerve Applauſe the more.

No frowning Care yon bleſt Apartment ſees,
There Sleep retires, and finds a Couch of Eaſe.
Kind Dreams, that fly Remorſe, and pamper'd Wealth,
There ſhed the Smiles of Innocence, and Health.

[22]Mark!—Here deſcends a Grot, delightful Seat!
Which warms ev'n Winter, tempers Summer's Heat?
See!—Gurgling from a Top, a Spring diſtils!
In mournful Meaſures wind the dripping Rills;
Soft Cooes of diſtant Doves, receiv'd around,
In ſoothing Mixture, ſwell the wat'ry Sound;
And hence the Streamlets ſeek the terraſs Shade,
Within, without, alike to all convey'd.
Paſs on—New Scenes, by my creative Pow'r,
Invite Reflection's ſweet, and ſolemn Hour.

We enter'd, where in well-rang'd Order, ſtood
Th' inſtructive Volumes of the Wiſe and Good.
Theſe Friends (ſaid he) tho' I deſert Mankind,
Good Angels never wou'd permit behind.
[23] Each Genius, Youth conceals, or Time diſplays,
I know; each Work, ſome Seraph here conveys,
Retirement thus preſents my ſearchful Thought,
What Heav'n inſpir'd, and what the Muſe has taught;
What YOUNG Satiric, and Sublime has writ,
Whoſe Life is Virtue, and whoſe Muſe is Wit.
Rapt I foreſee thy * MALLET's early Aim
Shine in full Worth, and ſhoot at length to Fame.
Sweet Fancy's Bloom in FENTON's Lay appears,
And the ripe Judgment of inſtructive Years.
In HILL is all, that gen'rous Souls revere,
To Virtue, and the Muſe for ever dear:
And THOMSON, in this Praiſe, thy Merit ſee,
The Tongue, that praiſes Merit, praiſes thee.

[24]Theſe ſcorn (ſaid I) the Verſe-Wright of their Age,
Vain of a labour'd, languid, uſeleſs Page;
To whoſe dim Faculty the meaning Song
Is glaring, or obſcure, when clear, and ſtrong;
Who in cant Phraſes gives a Work Diſgrace;
His Wit, an Odneſs of his Tone, and Face;
Let the weak Malice, nurs'd to an Eſſay,
In ſome low Libel a mean Heart diſplay;
Thoſe, who once prais'd, now, undeceiv'd de⯑ſpiſe,
It lives contemn'd a Day, then harmleſs dies.
Or ſhou'd ſome nobler Bard, their Worth, unpraiſe,
Deſerting Morals, that adorn his Lays,
Alas! too oft each Science ſhews the ſame,
The Great grow jealous of a greater Name:
Ye Bards, the Frailty mourn; yet brave the Shock:
Has not a STILLINGFLEET oppos'd a LOCKE?
[25] Oh, ſtill proceed, with ſacred Rapture fir'd!
Unenvied had ye liv'd, if unadmir'd.

Let Envy, he replied, all-ireful riſe,
Envy purſues alone the Brave, and Wiſe;
MARO, and SOCRATES inſpire her Pain,
And POPE, the Monarch of the tuneful Train;
To whom be Nature's, and Britannia's Praiſe!
All their bright Honours ruſh into his Lays!
And all that glorious Warmth his Lays reveal,
Which only Poets, Kings, and Patriots feel!
Tho' gay as Mirth, as curious Thought ſedate,
As Elegance polite, as Pow'r elate;
Profound as Reaſon, and as Juſtice clear;
Soft as Compaſſion; yet as Truth ſevere;
As Bounty copious, as Perſuaſion ſweet,
Like Nature various, and like Art complete;
[26] So fine her Morals, ſo ſublime her Views,
His Life is almoſt equal'd by his Muſe.

O POPE!—Since Envy is decreed by Fate,
Since ſhe purſues alone the Wiſe, and Great;
In one ſmall, emblematic Landſcape ſee,
How vaſt a Diſtance 'twixt thy Foe, and Thee!
Truth from an Eminence ſurveys our Scene,
(A Hill, where all is clear, and all ſerene.)
Rude, earth-bred Storms o'er meaner Valleys blow,
And wand'ring Miſts roll, black'ning, far below;
Dark, and debas'd, like them, is Envy's Aim,
And clear, and eminent, like Truth, thy Fame.

Thus I. From what dire Cauſe can Envy ſpring?
Or why emboſom we a Viper's Sting?
[27] 'Tis Envy ſtings our darling Paſſion, Pride.
Alas! (the Man of mighty Soul replied)
Why chuſe we Mis'ries? Moſt derive their Birth
From one bad Source; we dread ſuperior Worth;
Prefer'd, it ſeems a Satire on our own;
Then heedleſs to excel, we meanly moan:
Then we abſtract our Views, and Envy ſhow,
Whence ſprings the Mis'ry, Pride is doom'd to know.
Thus Folly pain creates: By Wiſdom's Pow'r,
We ſhun the Weight of many a reſtleſs Hour—
Lo! I meet Wrong, perhaps the Wrong, I feel,
Tends by the Scheme of Things to publick Weal.
I of the Whole am Part—the Joy, Men ſee,
Muſt circulate, and ſo revolve to me.
Why ſhou'd I then of private Loſs complain?
Of Loſs, that proves, perchance, a Brother's Gain?
[28] The Wind, that binds one Bark within the Bay,
May waft a richer Freight its wiſh'd-for Way.
If Rains, redundant, flood the abject Ground,
Mountains are but ſupplied, when Vales are drown'd;
If, with ſoft Moiſture ſwell'd, the Vale looks gay,
The Verdure of the Mountain fades away.
Shall Clouds, but at my Welfare's Call deſcend?
Shall Gravity for me her Laws ſuſpend?
For me ſhall Suns their Noon-tide Courſe forbear?
Or Motion not ſubſiſt to influence Air?
Let the Means vary, be they Froſt, or Flame,
Thy End, O Nature! ſtill remains the ſame!
Be This the Motive of a wiſe Man's Care,
To ſhun deſerving Ills, and learn to bear.

The END of the FIRST CANTO.

THE WANDERER. A VISION.
CANTO II.

[]

WHILE thus a Mind humane, and wiſe, he ſhows,
All-eloquent of Truth his Language flows.
Youth, tho' depreſs'd, thro' all his Form, appears;
Thro' all his Sentiments the Depth of Years.
Thus He—Yet farther Induſtry behold,
Which conſcious waits new Wonders to unfold.
Enter my Chapel next—Lo! here begin
The hallow'd Rites, that check the Growth of Sin.
[30] When firſt we met, how ſoon you ſeem'd to know
My Boſom, lab'ring with the Throbs of Woe!
Such racking Throbs!—ſoft! when I rouze thoſe Cares,
On my chill'd Mind pale Recollection glares!
When moping Frenzy ſtrove my Thoughts to ſway,
Here prudent Labours chac'd her Pow'r away.
Full, and rough-riſing from yon ſculptur'd Wall,
Bold Prophets, Nations to Repentance, call!
Meek Martyrs ſmile in Flames! gor'd Champions groan!
And Muſe-like Cherubs tune their Harps in Stone!
Next ſhadow'd Light, a rounding Force, beſtows,
Swells into Life, and ſpeaking Action grows!
Here pleaſing, melancholy Subjects find,
To calm, amuſe, exalt the penſive Mind!
This Figure, tender Grief, like mine, implies,
And ſemblant Thoughts, that earthly Pomp deſpiſe.
[31] Such penitential Magdalene reveals:
Looſe-veil'd, in Negligence of Charms ſhe kneels.
Tho' Dreſs, near-ſtor'd, its Vanity ſupplies,
The Vanity of Dreſs unheeded lies.
The ſinful World in ſorrowing Eye ſhe keeps,
As o'er Jeruſalem, Meſſiah weeps.
One Hand, her Boſom ſmites; in One appears
The lifted Lawn, that drinks her falling Tears.

Since Evil outweighs Good, and ſways Mankind,
True Fortitude aſſumes the patient Mind:
Such prov'd Meſſiah's, tho' to ſuff'ring born,
To Penury, Repulſe, Reproach, and Scorn.
Here by the Pencil mark his Flight deſign'd;
The wearied Virgin by a Stream reclin'd,
Who feeds the Child. Her Looks a Charm expreſs,
A modeſt Charm, that dignifies Diſtreſs.
[32] Boughs o'er their Heads with bluſhing Fruits depend,
Which Angels to her buſied Conſort bend.
Hence by the ſmiling Infant ſeems diſcern'd,
Trifles, concerning him, all Heav'n, concern'd.

Here the transfigur'd Son, from Earth, retires:
See! the white Form in a bright Cloud aſpires!
Full on his Foll'wers burſts a Flood of Rays,
Proſtrate they fall beneath th' o'erwhelming Blaze!
Like Noon-tide Summer-Suns the Rays appear,
Unſuff'rable, magnificent, and near!

What Scene of Agony the Garden brings;
The Cup of Gall; the ſuppliant King of Kings;
The Crown of Thorns; the Croſs, that felt him die;
Theſe, languid in the Sketch, unfiniſh'd, lye.

[33]

There from the Dead Centurions ſee him riſe,

See! but ſtruck down with horrible Surprize!

As the firſt Glory ſeem'd a Sun at Noon,

This caſts the Silver Splendor of the Moon.

Here peopled Day, th'aſcending God ſurveys!
The Glory varies, as the Myriads gaze!
Now ſoften'd, like a Sun at Diſtance ſeen,
When thro' a Cloud bright-glancing, yet ſerene!
Now faſt-encreaſing to the Croud amaz'd,
Like ſome vaſt Meteor high in Ether rais'd!

My Labour, yon high-vaulted Altar, ſtains
With Dies, that emulate etherial Plains.
The convex Glaſs, which in that Opening glows,
Mid circling Rays a pictur'd Saviour ſhows!
[34] Bright It collects the Beams, which, trembling All,
Back from the God, a ſhow'ry Radiance, fall,
Light'ning the Scene beneath! a Scene divine!
Where Saints, Clouds, Seraphs intermingled ſhine!

Here Water-falls, that play melodious round,
Like a ſweet Organ, ſwell a lofty Sound!
The ſolemn Notes bid earthly Paſſions fly,
Lull all my Cares, and lift my Soul on High!

This monumental Marble—this I rear
To One—Oh! ever mourn'd!—Oh! ever dear!
He ſtopt—pathetic Sighs the Pauſe ſupply,
And the prompt Tear ſtarts, quiv'ring, on his Eye!

I look'd—two Columns near the Wall were ſeen,
An imag'd Beauty ſtretch'd at length between.
[35] Near the wept Fair, her Harp Cecilia ſtrung,
Leaning, from high, a liſt'ning Angel hung!
Friendſhip, whoſe Figure at the Feet remains,
A Phoenix, with irradiate Creſt, ſuſtains:
This grac'd one Palm, while One extends t'impart
Two foreign Hands, that claſp a burning Heart.
A pendent Veil two hov'ring Seraphs raiſe,
Which, opening Heav'n, upon the Roof diſplays!
And two, benevolent, leſs-diſtant, hold
A Vaſe, collective of Perfumes up-roll'd!
Theſe from the Heart, by Friendſhip held, ariſe;
Od'rous as Incenſe gath'ring in the Skies.
In the fond Pelican is Love expreſt,
Who opens to her Young her tender Breaſt.
Two mated Turtles hov'ring hang in Air,
One by a Faulcon ſtruck!—in wild Deſpair,
[36] The Hermit cries,—So Death, alas! deſtroys
The tender Conſort of my Cares, and Joys!
Again ſoft Tears upon his Eye-lid hung,
Again check'd Sounds dy'd, flutt'ring, on his Tongue.
Too well his pining, inmoſt Thought I know!
Too well ev'n Silence tells the ſtory'd Woe!
To his my Sighs, to his my Tears reply!
I ſtray o'er all the Tomb a watry Eye!

Next, on the Wall, her Scenes of Life I gaz'd,
The Form back-leaning, by a Globe half-rais'd!
Cherubs a proffer'd Crown of Glory ſhow,
Ey'd wiſtful by th' admiring Fair below.
In Action eloquent diſpos'd her Hands,
One ſhows her Breaſt, in Rapture One expands!
This the fond Hermit ſeiz'd!—o'er all his Soul,
The ſoft, wild, wailing, am'rous Raſſion ſtole!
[37] In ſtedfaſt Gaze his Eyes her Aſpect keep,
Then turn away, a-while dejected weep;
Then he reverts 'em; but reverts in vain,
Dim'd with the ſwelling Grief, that ſtreams again.
Where now is my Philoſophy? (he cries)
My Joy, Hope, Reaſon, my Olympia dies!
Why did I e'er that Prime of Bleſſings know?
Was it, ye cruel Fates! t'im bitter Woe?
Why wou'd your Bolts not level firſt my Head?
Why muſt I live to weep Olympia dead?
—Sir, I had once a Wife! fair bloom'd her Youth,
Her Form was Beauty, and her Soul was Truth!
Oh, ſhe was dear!—How dear, what Words can ſay?
She dies!—My Heav'n at once is ſnatch'd away!
Ah! what avails, that, by a Father's Care,
I roſe a wealthy, and illuſtrious Heir?
[38] That early in my Youth I learn'd to prove
Th' inſtructive, pleaſing, academic Grove?
That in the Senate Eloquence was mine?
That Valour gave me in the Field to ſhine?
That Love ſhowr'd Bleſſings too—far more than All,
High-rapt Ambition e'er cou'd happy call?
Ah!—What are Thefe, which ev'n the Wiſe adore?
Loſt is my Pride!—Olympia is no more!
Had I, ye perſecuting Pow'rs! been born
The World's cold Pity, or, at beſt, its Scorn;
Of Wealth, of Rank, of kindred Warmth bereft;
To Want, to Shame, to ruthleſs Cenſure left;
Patience, or Pride, to this, Relief, ſupplies!
But a loſt Wife!—there! there Diſtraction lies!

Now three ſad Years I yield me all to Grief,
And fly the hated Comfort of Relief.
[39] Tho' rich, great, young, I leave a pompous Seat,
(My Brother's now) to ſeek ſome dark Retreat:
Mid cloiſter'd, ſolitary Tombs I ſtray,
Deſpair, and Horror lead the chearleſs Way!
My Sorrow grows to ſuch a wild Exceſs,
Life, injur'd Life muſt wiſh the Paſſion leſs!
Olympia!—My Olympia's loſt! (I cry)
Olympia's loſt, the hollow Vaults reply!
Louder I make my lamentable Moan;
The ſwelling Echoes learn like me to groan;
The Ghoſts to ſcream, as thro' lone Iſles they ſweep;
The Shrines to ſhudder, and the Saints to weep!

Now Grief, and Rage, by gath'ring Sighs, ſup⯑preſt,
Swell my full Heart, and heave my lab'ring Breaſt!
With ſtruggling Starts, each vital String they ſtrain,
And ſtrike the tott'ring Fabric of my Brain!
[40] O'er my ſunk Spirits frowns a vap'ry Scene,
Woe's dark Retreat! the madding Maze of Spleen!
A deep, damp Gloom o'erſpreads the murky Cell;
Here pining Thoughts, and ſecret Terrors dwell!
Here learn the Great unreal Wants to feign!
Unpleaſing Truths here mortify the Vain!
Here Learning, blinded firſt, and then beguil'd,
Looks dark as Ignorance, as Frenzy wild!
Here firſt Credulity on Reaſon won!
And here falſe Zeal myſterious Rants begun!
Here Love impearls each Moment with a Tear,
And Superſtition owes to Spleen her Fear!

Fantaſtic Lightnings, thro' the dreary Way,
In ſwift, ſhort Signals, flaſh the burſting Day!
Above, beneath, acroſs, around, they fly!
A dire Deception ſtrikes the mental Eye!
[41] By the Blue Fires, pale Phantoms grin ſevere!
Shrill-fancied Echoes wound th' affrighted Ear!
Air-baniſh'd Spirits flag in Fogs profound,
And all-obſcene, ſhed baneful Damps around!
Now Whiſpers, trembling in ſome feeble Wind,
Sigh out prophetic Fears, and freeze the Mind!

Loud laughs the Hag!—She mocks Complaint away,
Unroofs the Den, and lets in more than Day.
Swarms of wild Fancies, wing'd in various Flight,
Seek emblematic Shades, and myſtic Light!
Some drive with rapid Steeds the ſhining Car!
Theſe nod from Thrones! Thoſe thunder in the War!
Till, tir'd, they turn from the deluſive Show,
Start from wild Joy, and fix in ſtupid Woe.

[42]Here the lone Hour, a Blank of Life, diſplays,
Till now bad Thoughts a Fiend more active raiſe;
A Fiend in evil Moments ever nigh!
Death in her Hand, and Frenzy in her Eye!
Her Eye all red, and ſunk!—A Robe ſhe wore,
With Life's Calamities embroider'd o'er.
A Mirror in one Hand collective ſhows,
Varied, and multiplied that Group of Woes.
This endleſs Foe to gen'rous Toil and Pain
Lolls on a Couch for Eaſe; but lolls in vain;
She muſes o'er her woe-embroider'd Veſt,
And Self-Abhorrence heightens in her Breaſt.
To ſhun her Care, the Force of Sleep ſhe tries,
Still wakes her Mind, tho' Slumbers doze her Eyes:
She dreams, ſtarts, riſes, ſtalks from Place to Place,
With reſtleſs, thoughtful, interrupted Pace;
[43] Now eyes the Sun, and curſes ev'ry Ray,
Now the green Ground, where Colour fades away.
Dim Spectres dance! Again her Eye ſhe rears;
Then from the blood-ſhot Ball wipes purpled Tears;
Then preſſes hard her Brow, with Miſchief fraught,
Her Brow half burſts with Agony of Thought!
From me (ſhe cries) pale Wretch thy Comfort claim,
Born of Deſpair, and Suicide my Name!
Why ſhou'd thy Life a Moment's Pain endure?
Here ev'ry Object proffers Grief a Cure.
She points where Leaves of Hemlock black'ning ſhoot!
Fear not! pluck! eat (ſaid ſhe) the ſov'reign Root!
Then Death, revers'd, ſhall bear his ebon Lance;
Soft o'er thy Sight ſhall ſwim the ſhadowy Trance!
Or leap yon Rock, poſſeſs a watry Grave,
And leave wild Sorrow to the Wind and Wave!
[44] Or mark—this Ponyard thus from Mis'ry frees!
She wounds her Breaſt!—the guilty Steel I ſeize!
Straight, where ſhe ſtruck, a ſmoaking Spring of Gore
Wells from the Wound, and floats the crimſon'd Floor.
She faints! She fades!—Calm Thoughts the Deed revolve,
And now, unſtartling, fix the dire Reſolve!
Death drops his Terrors, and, with charming Wiles,
Winning, and kind, like my Olympia ſmiles!
He points the Paſſage to the Seats divine,
Where Poets, Heroes, ſainted Lovers ſhine!
I come, Olympia!—My rear'd Arm extends;
Half to my Breaſt the threat'ning Point deſcends!
Straight Thunder rocks the Land! new Light⯑nings play!
Nor tempt the Vengeance of an angry God!
Nor tempt the Vengeance of an angry God!
Nor tempt the Vengeance of an angry God!
[45] Fly'ſt thou from Providence for vain Relief?
Such ill-ſought Eaſe ſhall draw avenging Grief.
Honour, the more obſtructed, ſtronger ſhines,
And Zeal by Perſecution's Rage refines.
By Woe, the Soul to daring Action ſwells;
By Woe, in plaintleſs Patience It excels;
From Patience, prudent, clear Experience ſprings,
And traces Knowledge thro' the Courſe of Things;
Thence Hope is form'd, thence Fortitude, Succeſs,
Renown:—Whate'er Men covet and careſs.

The vaniſh'd Fiend thus ſent a hollow Voice,
Woud'ſt thou be happy? Straight be Death thy Choice;
How mean are thoſe, who paſſively complain.
While active Souls, more free, their Fetters ſtrain?
Tho' Knowledge thine, Hope, Fortitude, Succeſs,
Renown—Whate'er Men covet, and careſs;
[46] On Earth Succeſs muſt in its Turn give way,
And ev'n Perfection introduce Decay.
Never the World of Spirits thus—their Reſt
Untouch'd! entire!—once happy, ever bleſt!

Earneſt the heav'nly Voice reſponſive cries,
Oh, liſten not to Subtilty unwiſe!
Thy guardian Saint, who mourns thy hapleſs Fate,
Heav'n grants to prop thy Virtue, ere too late.
Know, if thou wilt thy dear-lov'd Wife deplore,
Olympia waits thee on a foreign Shore;
There in a Cell thy laſt Remains be ſpent;
Away! deceive Deſpair, and find Content!

I heard, obey'd; nor more of Fate complain'd;
Long Seas I meaſur'd, and this Mountain gain'd.
[47] Soon to a yawning Rift, Chance turn'd my Way;
A Den it prov'd, where a huge Serpent lay!
Flame-ey'd he lay!—He rages now for Food,
Meets my firſt Glance, and meditates my Blood!
His Bulk, in many a gather'd Orb up-roll'd,
Rears Spire on Spire! His Scales, be-dropt with Gold,
Shine burniſh'd in the Sun! Such Height they gain,
They dart green Luſtre on the diſtant Main!
Now writh'd in dreadful Slope, he ſtoops his Creſt,
Furious to fix on my unſhielded Breaſt!
Juſt as he ſprings, my Sabre ſmites the Foe!
Headleſs he falls beneath th' unerring Blow!
Wrath yet remains, tho' Strength his Fabric leaves,
And the meant Hiſs, the gaſping Mouth, deceives;
The length'ning Trunk ſlow-looſens ev'ry Fold,
Lingers in Life; then ſtretches ſtiff, and cold.
[48] Juſt as th' invet'rate Son of Miſchief ends,
Comes a white Dove, and near the Spot deſcends.
I hail this Omen! all bad Paſſions ceaſe,
Like the ſlain Snake, and all within is Peace.

Next, to Religion, this plain Roof I raiſe!
In duteous Rites, my hallow'd Tapers blaze!
I bid due Incenſe on my Altar ſmoke;
Then, at this Tomb, my promis'd Love invoke!
She hears!—She comes!—My Heart what Raptures warm?
All my Olympia ſparkles in the Form!
No pale, wan, livid Mark of Death ſhe bears!
Each roſeate Look, a quick'ning Tranſport, wears!
A Robe of Light, high-wrought, her Shape, in⯑veſts;
Unzon'd the ſwelling Beauty of her Breaſts!
Her auburn Hair, each flowing Ring, reſumes,
In her fair Hand, Love's Branch of Myrtle blooms!
[49] Silent, a-while, each well-known Charm, I trace;
Then thus, (while nearer ſhe avoids th' Embrace)
Thou dear Deceit!—muſt I a Shade purſue?
Dazzled I gaze!—thou ſwim'ſt before my View!
Dipt in etherial Dews, her Bough divine
Sprinkles my Eyes, which, ſtrengthen'd, bear the Shine:
Still thus I urge, (for ſtill the ſhadowy Bliſs
Shuns the warm Graſp, nor yields the tender Kiſs.)
Oh, fly not!—fade not! liſten to Love's Call!
She lives!—no more I'm Man!—I'm Spirit all!
Then let me ſnatch thee!—preſs thee!—take me whole!
Oh, cloſe!—yet cloſer!—cloſer to my Soul!
Twice, round her Waiſt, my eager Arms entwin'd,
And, twice deceiv'd, my Frenzy claſp'd the Wind!
Then thus I rav'd—Behold thy Husband kneel,
And judge! O judge what Agonies I feel!
[50] Oh be no longer, if unkind, thus fair;
Take Horror's Shape, and fright me to Deſpair!
Rather, than thus, unpitying, ſee my Moan,
Far rather frown, and fix me here in Stone!
But mock not thus—Alas! (the Charmer ſaid,
Smiling; and, in her Smile, ſoft Radiance play'd)
Alas! no more eluded Strength employ,
To claſp a Shade!—What more is mortal Joy?
Man's Bliſs is, like his Knowledge, but ſurmis'd;
One Ignorance, the other Pain diſguis'd;
Thou wert (had all thy Wiſh been ſtill poſſeſt)
Supreamly curſt from being greatly bleſt;
For oh! ſo fair, ſo dear was I to Thee,
Thou hadſt forgot thy God, to worſhip me;
This he foreſaw, and ſnatch'd me to the Tomb;
Above I flouriſh in unfading Bloom.
[51] Think me not loſt; for thee I Heav'n implore!
Thy guardian Angel, tho' a Wife no more!
I, when abſtracted from this World you ſeem,
Hint the pure Thought, and frame the heav'nly Dream!
Cloſe at thy Side, when Morning ſtreaks the Air,
In Muſick's Voice I wake thy Mind to Prayer!
By me, thy Hymns, like pureſt Incenſe, riſe,
Fragrant with Grace, and pleaſing to the Skies!
And when that Form ſhall from its Clay refine,
(That only Bar betwixt my Soul, and Thine!)
When thy lov'd Spirit mounts to Realms of Light,
Then ſhall Olympia aid thy earlieſt Flight;
Mingled we'll flame in Raptures, that aſpire
Beyond all Youth, all Senſe, and all Deſire.

She ended. Still ſuch Sweetneſs dwells behind,
Th' inchanting Voice ſtill warbles in my Mind,
[52] But lo! th' unbodied Viſion fleets away!—
—Stay my Olympia!—I conjure thee, ſtay!
Yet ſtay—for thee my Mem'ry learns to ſmart!
Sure ev'ry Vein contains a bleeding Heart!
Sooner ſhall Splendor leave the Blaze of Day,
Than Love, ſo pure, ſo vaſt as mine, decay!
From the ſame heav'nly Source its Luſtre came,
And glows, immortal, with congenial Flame!
Ah!—let me not with Fires neglected, burn!
Sweet Miſtreſs of my Soul, return, return!

Alas!—ſhe's fled!—I traverſe now the Place,
Where my enamour'd Thoughts, her Footſteps, trace.
Now, o'er the Tomb, I bend my drooping Head,
There Tears, the Eloquence of Sorrow, ſhed.
Sighs choak my Words, unable to expreſs
The Pangs, the Throbs of ſpeechleſs Tenderneſs!
[53] Not with more ardent, more tranſparent Flame,
Call dying Saints on their Creator's Name,
Than I on her's!—But, thro' yon yielding Door,
Glides a new Phantom o'er th' illumin'd Floor!
The Roof ſwift-kindles from the beaming Ground,
And Floods of living Luſtre flame around!
In all the Majeſty of Light array'd,
Awful it ſhines!—'tis Cato's honour'd Shade!
As I, the Heav'nly Viſitant, purſue,
Sublimer Glory opens to my View!
He ſpeaks!—But, oh! what Words ſhall dare repeat
His Thoughts?—They leave me fir'd with Patriot Heat!
More than poetic Raptures now I feel,
And own that godlike Paſſion, Publick Zeal!
But from my Frailty it receives a Stain,
I grow, unlike my great Inſpirer, vain;
[54] And burn, once more, the buſy World to know,
And wou'd, in Scenes of Action, foremoſt glow!
Where proud Ambition points her dazzling Rays!
Where Coronets, and Crowns, attractive, blaze!
When my Olympia leaves the Realms above,
And lures me back to ſolitary Love.
She tells me Truth, prefers an humble State,
That genuine Greatneſs ſhuns the being Great!
That mean are thoſe, who falſe-term'd Honour prize;
Whoſe Fabricks, from their Country's Ruins, riſe;
Who look the Traytor, like the Patriot, fair;
Who to enjoy the Vineyard, wrong the Heir.

I hear!—thro' all my Veins new Tranſports. roll!
I gaze!—Warm Love comes ruſhing on my Soul!
Raviſh'd I gaze!—Again her Charms decay!
Again my Manhood to my Grief gives way!
[55] Cato returns!—Zeal takes her Courſe to reign;
But Zeal is in Ambition loſt again!
I'm now the Slave of Fondneſs!—now of Pride!
—By Turns they conquer, and by Turns ſubſide!
Theſe ballanc'd Each by Each, the golden Mean,
Betwixt 'em found, gives Happineſs ſerene;
This I'll enjoy!—He ended!—I replied,
O Hermit! thou art Worth ſeverely tried!
But had not innate Grief produc'd thy Woes,
Men, barb'rous Men had prey'd on thy Repoſe.
When ſeeking Joy, we ſeldom Sorrow miſs,
And often Mis'ry points the Path to Bliſs.
The Soil, moſt worthy of the thrifty Swain,
Is wounded thus, e'er truſted with the Grain;
The ſtrugling Grain muſt work obſcure, its way,
E'er the firſt Green ſprings upward to the Day;
[56] Up-ſprung, ſuch weed-like Coarſeneſs it betrays,
Flocks on th' abandon'd Blade permiſſive graze;
Then ſhoots the Wealth, from Imperfection clear,
And thus a grateful Harveſt crowns the Year.

The END of the SECOND CANTO.

THE WANDERER. A VISION.
CANTO III.

[]

THUS free our ſocial Time from Morn⯑ing flows,
'Till riſing Shades attempt the Day to cloſe.
Thus my new Friend: Behold the Light's Decay:
Back to yon City let me point thy Way.
South-Weſt, behind yon Hill, the ſloping Sun,
To Ocean's Verge, his fluent Courſe, has run:
[58] His parting Eyes a watry Radiance ſhed,
Glance thro' the Vale, and tip the Mountain's Head;
To which oppos'd, the ſhad'wy Gulphs, below,
Beauteous, reflect the party-colour'd Snow.

Now dance the Stars, where Veſper leads the Way;
Yet all, faint-glimm'ring with Remains of Day.
Orient, the Queen of Night emits her Dawn,
And throws, unſeen, her Mantle o'er the Lawn.
Up the blue Steep, her crimſon Orb now ſhines;
Now on the Mountain-top her Arm reclines,
In a red Creſcent ſeen: Her Zone now gleams,
Like Venus, quiv'ring in reflecting Streams.
Yet red'ning, yet round-burning up the Air,
From the white Cliff, her Feet ſlow-riſing glare!
See! Flames, condens'd, now vary her Attire;
Her Face, a broad Circumference of Fire.
[59] Dark Firs ſeem kindled in nocturnal Blaze;
Thro' Ranks of Pines, her broken Luſtre plays,
Here glares, there brown-projecting Shade beſtows,
And glitt'ring ſports upon the ſpangled Snows.

Now Silver turn her Beams!—Yon Den they gain;
The big, rouz'd Lion ſhakes his brinded Main.
Fierce, fleet, gaunt Monſters, All, prepar'd for Gore,
Rend Woods, Vales, Rocks, with wide-reſounding Roar.
O dire Preſage!—But fear not thou, my Friend,
Our Steps the Guardians of the Juſt attend.
Home-ward I'll wait thee on—and now ſurvey,
How Men, and Spirits chace the Night away!

Yon Nymphs, and Swains in am'rous Mirth ad⯑vance;
To breathing Muſick moves the circling Dance.
[60] Here the bold Youth in Deeds adventrous glow,
Skimming in rapid Sleds the crackling Snow.
Not when Tidides won the fun'ral Race,
Shot his light Car along in ſwifter Pace.
Here the glaz'd Way with Iron Feet they dare,
And glide, well-pois'd, like Mercuries in Air.
There Crouds, with ſtable Tread, and levell'd Eye,
Lift, and diſmiſs the Quoits, that whirling fly.
With Force ſuperior, not with Skill ſo true,
The pond'rous Disk from Roman Sinews flew.
Where neighb'ring Hills ſome cloudy Sheet ſuſtain,
Freez'd o'er the nether Vale a penſile Plain,
Croſs the roof'd Hollow rolls the maſſy Round,
The crack'd Ice rattles, and the Rocks reſound;
Cenſures, Diſputes, and Laughs, alternate, riſe;
And deaf'ning Clangor thunders up the Skies.

[61]Thus, amid crouded Images, ſerene,
From Hour to Hour we paſs'd, from Scene to Scene:
Faſt wore the Night. Full long we pac'd our way;
Vain Steps! the City yet far-diſtant lay.
While thus the Hermit, e'er my Wonder ſpoke,
Methought, with new Amuſement, Silence broke,
Yon amber-hued Caſcade, which fleecy flies
Thro' Rocks, and ſtrays along the trackleſs Skies,
To frolick Fairies marks the mazy Ring,
Forth to the Dance from little Cells they ſpring,
Meaſur'd to pipe, or harp!—and next they ſtand,
Marſhall'd beneath the Moon, a radiant Band!
In Froſt-work now delight the ſportive kind:
Now court wild Fancy in the whiſtling Wind.

[62]Hark!—the funereal Bell's deep-ſounding Toll,
To Bliſs from Mis'ry, calls ſome righteous Soul!
Juſt freed from Life, like ſwift-aſcending Fire,
Glorious it mounts, and gleams from yonder Spire!
Light clapt its Wings!—It views, with pitying Sight,
The friendly Mourner pay the pious Rite;
The Plume high-wrought, that black'ning nods in Air;
The ſlow-pac'd, weeping Pomp; the ſolemn Prayer,
The decent Tomb; the Verſe, that Sorrow gives;
Where, to Remembrance ſweet, fair Virtue lives.

Now to mid Heav'n the whiten'd Moon inclines,
And Shades contract, mark'd out in clearer Lines;
With noiſeleſs Gloom the Plains are delug'd o'er:
See!—from the North, what ſtreaming Meteors pour!
[63] Beneath Bootes ſpring the radiant Train,
And quiver thro' the Axle of his Wain.
O'er Altars thus, impainted, we behold
Half-circling Glories ſhoot in Rays of Gold.
Croſs Ether ſwift elance the vivid Fires!
As ſwift again each pointed Flame retires!
In Fancy's Eye encount'ring Armies glare,
And ſanguine Enſigns wave unfurl'd in Air!
Hence the weak Vulgar deem impending Fate,
A Monarch ruin'd, or unpeopled State.
Thus Comets, dreadful Viſitants! ariſe
To them wild Omens, Science to the Wiſe!
Theſe mark the Comet to the Sun incline,
While deep-red Flames around its Center ſhine!
While its fierce Rear, a winding Trail, diſplays,
And lights all Ether with the ſweepy Blaze!
[64] Or when compell'd, it flies the torrid Zone,
And ſhoots by Worlds un-number'd, and un⯑known;
By Worlds, whoſe People, all-aghaſt with Fear,
May view that Miniſter of Vengeance near!
Till now the tranſient Glow, remote, and loſt,
Decays, and darkens mid-involving Froſt!
Or when it, Sun-ward, drinks rich Beams again,
And burns imperious on th'etherial Plain!
The Learn'd-One curious eyes it from afar,
Sparkling thro' Night, a new, illuſtrious Star!

The Moon, deſcending, ſaw us now purſue
The various Talk:—the City near in view!
Here from ſtill Life (he cries) avert thy Sight,
And mark what Deeds adorn, or ſhame the Night!
But heedful each, immodeſt Proſpect fly;
Where Decency forbids Enquiry's Eye.
[65] Man were not Man, without Love's wanton Fire,
But Reaſon's Glory is to quell Deſire.
What are thy Fruits, O Luſt? Short Bleſſings, bought
With long Remorſe, the Seed of bitter Thought;
Perhaps ſome Babe to dire Diſeaſes born,
Doom'd for Another's Crimes, thro' Life, to mourn;
Or murder'd, to preſerve a Mother's Fame;
Or caſt obſcure; the Child of Want, and Shame!
Falſe Pride! What Vices on our Conduct ſteal,
From the World's Eye one Frailty to conceal?
Ye cruel Mothers!—Soft! thoſe Words command!
So near, ſhall Cruelty, and Mother ſtand?
Can the Dove's Boſom ſnaky Venom draw?
Can its Foot ſharpen, like the Vultur's Claw?
Can the fond Goat, or tender, fleecy Dam
Howl, like the Wolf, to tear the Kid, or Lamb?
[66] Yes, there are Mothers—There I fear'd his Aim,
And, conſcious, trembled at the coming Name;
Then with a Sigh his iſſuing Words oppos'd!
Straight with a falling Tear the Speech he clos'd.
That Tenderneſs, which Ties of Blood deny,
Nature repaid me from a Stranger's Eye.
Pale grew my Cheeks!—But now to gen'ral Views
Our Converſe turns, which thus my Friend renews.

Yon Manſion, made by beaming Tapers gay,
Drowns the dim Night, and counterfeits the Day.
From lumin'd Windows glancing on the Eye,
Around, athwart, the frisking Shadows fly.
There Midnight Riot ſpreads illuſive Joys,
And Fortune, Health, and dearer Time deſtroys.
Soon Death's dark Agent, to luxuriant Eaſe,
Shall wake ſharp Warnings in ſome fierce Diſeaſe.

[67]O Man! thy Fabrick's like a well-form'd State;
Thy Thoughts, firſt-rank'd, were ſure deſign'd the Great!
Paſſions Plebeians are, which Faction raiſe;
Wine, like pour'd Oil, excites the raging Blaze:
Then giddy Anarchy's rude Triumphs riſe:
Then ſov'reign Reaſon from her Empire flies:
That Ruler once depos'd, Wiſdom, and Wit
To Noiſe, and Folly, Place, and Pow'r, ſubmit;
Like a frail Bark thy weaken'd Mind is toſt,
Unſteer'd, unballanc'd, 'till its Wealth is loſt.

The Miſer-ſpirit eyes the ſpend-thrift Heir,
And mourns, too late, Effects of ſordid Care.
His Treaſures fly to cloy each fawning Slave;
Yet grudge a Stone, to dignify his Grave.
[68] For this, low-thoughted Craft his Life employ'd;
For this, tho' wealthy, he no Wealth enjoy'd;
For this, he grip'd the Poor, and Alms denied,
Unfriended liv'd, and unlamented died.
Yet ſmile, griev'd Shade! when that unproſp'rous Store
Faſt-leſſens, when gay Hours return no more;
Smile at thy Heir, beholding, in his Fall,
Men once oblig'd, like him, ungrateful All!
Then Thought-inſpiring Woe his Heart ſhall mend,
And prove his only wiſe, unflatt'ring Friend.

Folly exhibits thus unmanly Sport,
While plotting Miſchief keeps reſerv'd her Court.
Lo! from that Mount, in blaſting Sulphur broke,
Stream Flames voluminous, enwrap'd with Smoke!
In Chariot-ſhape they whirl up yonder Tow'r,
Lean on its Brow, and like Deſtruction lour!
[69] From the black Depth a fiery Legion ſprings;
Each bold, bad Spectre claps her ſounding Wings;
And ſtraight beneath a ſummon'd, trait'rous Band,
On Horror bent, in dark Convention ſtand:
From each Fiend's Mouth a ruddy Vapour flows,
Glides thro' the Roof, and o'er the Council glows:
The Villains, cloſe beneath th' Infection pent,
Feel, all-poſſeſs'd, their riſing Galls ferment;
And burn with Faction, Hate, and vengeful Ire,
For Rapine, Blood, and Devaſtation dire;
But Juſtice marks their Ways: She waves, in Air,
The Sword, high-threat'ning like a Comet's Glare.

While here dark Villany her ſelf deceives,
There ſtudious Honeſty our View relieves.
A feeble Taper, from yon loneſome Room,
Scatt'ring thin Rays, juſt glimmers thro' the Gloom.
[70] There ſits the ſapient BARD in muſeful Mood,
And glows impaſſion'd for his Country's Good!
All the bright Spirits of the Juſt, combin'd,
Inform, refine, and prompt his tow'ring Mind!
He takes the gifted Quill from Hands divine,
Around his Temples Rays refulgent ſhine!
Now rapt! now more than Man!—I ſee him climb,
To view this Speck of Earth from Worlds ſu⯑blime!
I ſee him now o'er Nature's Works preſide!
How clear the Viſion! and the Scene how wide!
Let ſome a Name by Adulation raiſe,
Or Scandal, meaner than a venal Praiſe!
My Muſe (he cries) a nobler Proſpect view!
Thro' Fancy's Wilds ſome Moral's Point purſue!
From dark Deception clear-drawn Truth diſplay,
As from black Chaos roſe reſplendent Day!
[71] Awake Compaſſion, and bid Terror riſe!
Bid humble Sorrows ſtrike ſuperior Eyes!
So pamper'd Pow'r, unconſcious of Diſtreſs,
May ſee, be mov'd, and being mov'd, redreſs.

Ye Traytors, Tyrants, fear his ſtinging Lay!
Ye Pow'rs unlov'd, unpitied in Decay!
But know, to you ſweet-bloſſom'd Fame he brings,
Ye Heroes, Patriots, and paternal Kings!

O Thou, who form'd, who rais'd the Poet's Art,
(Voice of thy Will!) unerring Force impart!
If wailing Worth can gen'rous Warmth excite,
If Verſe can gild Inſtruction with Delight,
Inſpire his honeſt Muſe with orient Flame,
To riſe, to dare, to reach the nobleſt Aim!

[72]But, O my Friend! myſterious is our Fate!
How mean his Fortune, tho' his Mind elate!
Aeneas-like he paſſes thro' the Croud,
Unſought, unſeen beneath Misfortune's Cloud;
Or ſeen with ſlight Regard: Unprais'd his Name:
His after-Honour, and our after-Shame.
The doom'd Deſert to Av'rice ſtands confeſs'd;
Her Eyes averted are, and ſteel'd her Breaſt.
Envy aſquint the future Wonder eyes:
Bold Inſult, pointing, hoots him as he flies;
While coward Cenſure, skill'd in darker Ways,
Hints ſure Detraction in diſſembled Praiſe!
Hunger, Thirſt, Nakedneſs there grievous fall!
Unjuſt Deriſion too!—that Tongue of Gall!
Slow comes Relief, with no mild Charms endued,
Uſher'd by Pride, and by Reproach purſued.
[73] Forc'd Pity meets him with a cold Reſpect,
Unkind as Scorn, ungen'rous as Neglect.

Yet, ſuff'ring Worth! thy Fortitude will ſhine!
Thy Foes are Virtue's, and her Friends are thine!
Patience is thine, and Peace thy Days ſhall crown;
Thy Treaſure Prudence, and thy Claim Renown:
Myriads unborn, ſhall mourn thy hapleſs Fate,
And Myriads grow by thy Example Great!

Hark! from the Watch-Tow'r rolls the Trum⯑pet's Sound,
Sweet thro' ſtill Night, proclaiming Safety round!
Yon Shade illuſtrious quits the Realms of Reſt,
To aid ſome Orphan of its Race diſtreſt,
Safe winds him thro' the ſubterraneous Way,
That mines yon Manſion, grown with Ruin grey,
[74] And marks the wealthy, unſuſpected Ground,
Where green with Ruſt, long-buried Coins abound.
This plaintive Ghoſt, from Earth when newly fled,
Saw thoſe, the Living truſted, wrong the Dead;
He ſaw, by Fraud abus'd, the lifeleſs Hand
Sign the falſe Deed, that alienates his Land;
Heard on his Fame injurious Cenſure thrown,
And mourn'd the beggar'd Orphan's bitter Groan:
Commiſſion'd now the Falſhood He reveals,
To Juſtice ſoon th'enabled Heir appeals;
Soon by this Wealth are coſtly Pleas maintain'd,
And by diſcover'd Truth loſt Right regain'd.

But why (may ſome enquire) why kind Succeſs,
Since myſtic Heav'n gives Mis'ry oft to bleſs?
Tho' Mis'ry leads to Happineſs, and Truth,
Unequal to the Load this languid Youth.
[75] Unſtrengthen'd Virtue ſcarce his Boſom fir'd,
And fearful from his growing Wants retir'd.
(Oh, let none cenſure if, untried by Grief,
If amidſt Woe untempted by Relief!)
He ſtoop'd reluctant to low Arts of Shame,
Which then, ev'n then he ſcorn'd, and bluſh'd to name.
Heav'n ſees, and makes th'imperfect Worth its Care,
And chears the trembling Heart, unform'd to bear.
Now riſing Fortune elevates his Mind,
He ſhines unclouded, and adorns Mankind.

So in ſome Engine, that denies a Vent,
If unreſpiring is ſome Creature pent,
It ſickens, droops, and pants, and gaſps for Breath,
Sad o'er the Sight ſwim ſhad'wy Miſts of Death;
If then kind Air pours pow'rful in again,
New Heats, new Pulſes quicken ev'ry Vein,
[76] From the clear'd, lifted, life-rekindled Eye,
Diſpers'd, the dark and dampy Vapours fly.

From trembling Tombs the Ghoſts of Greatneſs riſe,
And o'er their Bodies hang with wiſtful Eyes;
Or diſcontented ſtalk, and mix their Howls
With howling Wolves, their Screams with ſcream⯑ing Owls.

The Interval 'twixt Night and Morn is nigh,
Winter more nitrous chills the ſhadow'd Sky.
Springs with ſoft Heats no more give Borders green,
Nor ſmoaking breathe along the whiten'd Scene;
While ſteamy Currents ſweet in Proſpect charm,
Like Veins blue-winding on a Fair-one's Arm.

Now Sleep to Fancy parts with half his Pow'r,
And broken Slumbers drag the reſtleſs Hour.
[77] The Murder'd ſeems alive, and ghaſtly glares,
And in dire Dreams the conſcious Murd'rer ſcares,
Shews the yet-ſpouting Wound, th'enſanguin'd Floor,
The Walls yet-ſmoaking with the ſpatter'd Gore;
Or ſhrieks to dozing Juſtice, and reveals
The Deed, which fraudful Art from Day conceals;
The Delve obſcene, where no Suſpicion pries;
Where the disfigur'd Coarſe unſhrouded lies;
The ſure, the ſtriking Proof, ſo ſtrong maintain'd,
Pale Guilt ſtarts ſelf-convicted, when arraign'd.

Theſe Spirits Treaſon of its Pow'r diveſt,
And turn the Peril from the Patriot's Breaſt.
Thoſe ſolemn Thought inſpire, or bright deſcend,
To ſnatch in Viſion ſweet the dying Friend.

[78]But we deceive the Gloom, the Matin Bell
Summons to Prayer!—Now breaks th' Inchanter's Spell!
And now—But yon fair Spirit's Form ſurvey!
'Tis ſhe! Olympia beckons me away!
I haſte! I fly!—adieu!—and when you ſee
The Youth, who bleeds with Fondneſs, think on me!
Tell him my Tale, and be his Pain careſt;
By Love I tortur'd was, by Love I'm bleſt.
When worſhip'd Woman we entranc'd behold,
We praiſe the Maker in his faireſt Mold;
The Pride of Nature, Harmony combin'd,
And Light immortal to the Soul refin'd!
Depriv'd of charming Woman, ſoon we miſs
The Prize of Friendſhip, and the Life of Bliſs!

[79]

Still thro' the Shades Olympia dawning breaks!

What Bloom, what Brightneſs luſters o'er her Cheeks!

Again ſhe calls!—I dare no longer ſtay!

A kind Farewell—Olympia, I obey.

He turn'd, nor longer in my Sight remain'd,

The Mountain he, I ſafe the City gain'd.

The END of the THIRD CANTO.

THE WANDERER. A VISION.
CANTO IV.

[]

STILL o'er my Mind wild Fancy holds her Sway,
Still on ſtrange, viſionary Land I ſtray.
Now Scenes crowd thick! Now indi⯑ſtinct appear!
Swift glide the Mouths, and turn the varying Year!

Near the Bull's Horn Light's riſing Monarchdraws;
Now on it's Back the Pleiades he thaws!
[81] From vernal Heat pale Winter forc'd to flie,
Northward retires, yet turns a watry Eye;
Then with an aguiſh Breath nips infant Blooms,
Deprives unfolding Spring of rich Perfumes,
Shakes the ſlow-circling Blood of human Race,
And in ſharp, livid Looks contracts the Face.
Now o'er Norwegian Hills he ſtrides away:
Such ſlipp'ry Paths Ambition's Steps betray.
Turning with Sighs, far, ſpiral Firs he ſees,
Which bow obedient to the Southern Breeze.
Now from yon Zemblan Rock his Creſt he ſhrouds,
Like Fame's, obſcur'd amid the whitening Clouds;
Thence his loſt Empire is with Tears deplor'd:
Such Tyrants ſhed o'er Liberty reſtor'd.
Beneath his Eye (that throws malignant Light
Ten Times the meaſur'd Round of mortal Sight)
[82] A waſte, pale-glimm'ring, like a Moon, that wanes,
A wild Expanſe of frozen Sea contains.
It cracks! vaſt, floating Mountains beat the Shore!
Far off he hears thoſe icy Ruins roar,
And from the hideous Craſh diſtracted flies,
Like One, who feels his dying Infant's Cries.
Near, and more near the ruſhing Torrents ſound,
And one great Rift runs thro' the vaſt Profound,
Swift as a ſhooting Meteor; groaning loud,
Like deep-roll'd Thunder thro' a rending Cloud.
The late-dark Pole now feels unſetting Day:
In Hurricanes of Wrath he whirls his Way;
O'er many a polar Alp to Froſt he goes,
O'er crackling Vales, embrown'd with melting Snows;
Here Bears ſtalk Tenants of the barren Space,
Few Men, unſocial Thoſe!—a barb'rous Race!
[83] At length the Cave appears! the Race is run:
Now he recounts vaſt Conqueſts loſt, and won,
And taleful in th'Embrace of Froſt remains,
Barr'd from our Climes, and bound in icy Chains.

Mean while the Sun his Beams on Cancer throws,
Which now beneath his warmeſt Influence glows.
From glowing Cancer fall'n the King of Day,
Red thro' the kindling Lyon, ſhoots his Ray.
The tawny Harveſt pays the earlier Plough,
And mellowing Fruitage loads the bending Bough.
'Tis Day-ſpring. Now green Lab'rinths I frequent,
Where Wiſdom oft retires to meet Content.

The mounting Lark her warbling Anthem lends,
From Note to Note the raviſh'd Soul aſcends;
[84] As thus it wou'd the Patriarch's Ladder climb,
By ſome good Angel led to Worlds ſublime:
Oft (Legends ſay) the Snake, with waken'd Ire,
Like Envy rears in many a ſcaly Spire;
Then Songſters drop, then yield their vital Gore,
And Innocence, and Muſick are no more.

Mild rides the Morn in orient Beauty dreſt,
An azure Mantle, and a purple Veſt,
Which blown by Gales her gemmy Feet diſplay,
Her amber Treſſes negligently gay.
Collected now her roſy Hand they fill,
And, gently wrung, the pearly Dews diſtill.
The ſongful Zephyrs, and the laughing Hours
Breathe ſweet; and ſtrew her opening Way with Flowers.

[85]

The chatt'ring Swallows leave their neſted Care,

Each promiſing Return with plenteous Fare.

So the fond Swain, who to the Market hies,

Stills with big Hopes his Infant's tender Cries.

Yonder two Turtles, o'er their callow Brood,
Hang hov'ring, e'er they ſeek their guiltleſs Food.
Fondly they bill. Now to their morning Care,
Like our firſt Parents part the am'rous Pair:
But ah!—a Pair no more!—with ſpreading Wings,
From the high, ſounding Cliff a Vultur ſprings;
Steady he ſails along th' aërial Grey,
Swoops down, and bears yon tim'rous Dove away.
Start we, who, worſe than Vulturs, Nymrods find,
Men meditating Prey on human Kind?

[86]

Wild Beaſts to gloomy Dens re-pace their Way,

Where their couch'd Young demand the ſlaugh⯑ter'd Prey.

Rooks from their nodding Neſts black-ſwarming fly,

And in hoarſe Uproar tell the Fowler nigh.

Now in his Tabernacle rouz'd, the Sun
Is warn'd the blue, aetherial Steep to run:
While on his Couch of floating Jaſper laid,
From his bright Eye Sleep calls the dewy Shade.
The cryſtal Dome tranſparent Pillars raiſe,
Whence beam'd from Saphirs living Azure plays:
The liquid Floor, in-wrought with Pearls divine,
Where all his Labours in Moſaic ſhine.
His Coronet, a Cloud of Silver-white;
His Robe with unconſuming Crimſon bright,
[87] Varied with Gems, all Heaven's collected Store;
While his looſe Locks deſcend, a golden Shower.
If to his Steps compar'd, we tardy find
The Grecian Racers, who outſtript the Wind.
Fleet to the glowing Race behold him ſtart!
His quick'ning Eyes a quiv'ring Radiance dart,
And, while the laſt, nocturnal Flag is furl'd,
Swift into Life and Motion look the World.
The Sun-flow'r now averts her blooming Cheek
From Weſt, to view his Eaſtern Luſtre break.
What gay, creative Pow'r his Preſence brings?
Hills, Lawns, Lakes, Villages!—the Face of Things,
All Night beneath ſucceſſive Shadows miſs'd,
Inſtant begins in Colours to exiſt:
But abſent theſe from Sons of Riot keep,
Loſt in impure, unmeditating Sleep.

[88]T'unlock his Fence, the new-ris'n Swain pre⯑pares,
And e'er forth-driv'n recounts his fleecy Cares;
When, lo! an ambuſh'd Wolf, with Hunger bold,
Springs at the Prey, and fierce invades the Fold!
But by the Paſtor not in vain defied,
Like our arch Foe by ſome coeleſtial Guide.

Spread on yon Rock the Sea-Calf I ſurvey,
Bask'd in the Sun his Skin reflects the Day:
He ſees yon tow'r-like Ship the Waves divide,
And ſlips again beneath the glaſſy Tide.

The watry Herbs, and Shrubs, and Vines, and Flowers

Rear their bent Heads, o'ercharg'd with nightly Showers.

[89]Hail glorious Sun! to whoſe attractive Fires,
The waken'd, vegetative Life aſpires!
The Juices, wrought by thy directive Force,
Thro' Plants, and Trees, perform their genial Courſe,
Extend in Root, with Bark unyielding bind
The hearted Trunk; or weave the branching Rind;
Expand in Leaves, in flow'ry Bloſſoms ſhoot,
Bleed in rich Gums, and ſwell in ripen'd Fruit.
From thee, bright, univerſal Pow'r! began
Inſtinct in Brute, and gen'rous Love in Man.

Talk'd I of Love?—Yon Swain, with am'rous Air,
Soft ſwells his Pipe, to charm the rural Fair.
She milks the Flocks; then, liſt'ning as he plays,
Steals in the running Brook a conſcious Gaze.

[90]

The Trout, that deep, in Winter, ooz'd remains,

Up-ſprings, and Sunward turns its crimſon Stains.

The Tenants of the Warren, vainly chac'd,
Now lur'd to ambient Fields for green Repaſt,
Seek their ſmall, vaulted Labyrinths in vain;
Entangling Nets betray the skipping Train;
Red Maſſacres thro' their Republic fly,
And Heaps on Heaps by ruthleſs Spaniels dye.

The Fiſher, who the lonely Beech has ſtray'd,
And all the live-long Night his Net-work ſpread,
Drags in, and bears the loaded Snare away;
Where flounce deceiv'd th'expiring, finny Prey.

Near Neptune's Temple, (Neptune's now no more)
Whoſe Statue plants a Trident on the Shore,
[91] In ſportive Rings the gen'rous Dolphins wind,
And eye, and think the Image human-Kind:
Dear, pleaſing Friendſhip!—See! the Pile com⯑mands
The Vale, and grim as Superſtition ſtands!
Time's Hand there leaves its Print of moſſy green,
With Hollows, carv'd for Snakes, and Birds obſcene.

O Gibbs, whoſe Art the ſolemn Fane can raiſe,
Where God delights to dwell, and Man to praiſe;
When moulder'd thus the Column falls away,
Like ſome great Prince, majeſtic in Decay;
When Ignorance, and Scorn the Ground ſhall tread,
Where Wiſdom tutor'd, and Devotion pray'd;
Where ſhall thy pompous Work our Wonder claim?
What, but the Muſe alone, preſerve thy Name?

[92]The Sun ſhines, broken, thro' yon Arch, that rears
This once-round Fabric, half-depriv'd by Years,
Which roſe a ſtately Colonade, and crown'd
Encircling Pillars, now unfaithful found;
In Fragments, theſe the Fall of thoſe forebode,
Which, nodding, juſt up-heave their crumbling Load.
High, on yon Column, which has batter'd ſtood,
Like ſome ſtripp'd Oak, the Grandeur of the Wood,
The Stork inhabits her aërial Neſt;
By her are Liberty and Peace careſt;
She flies the Realms, that own deſpotick Kings,
And only ſpreads o'er free-born States her Wings.
The Roof is now the Daw's, or Raven's Haunt,
And loathſome Toads in the dark Entrance pant;
Or Snakes, that lurk to ſnap the heedleſs Fly,
And fated Bird, that oft comes flutt'ring by.

[93]

An Aqueduct acroſs yon Vale is laid,

It's Channel thro' a ruin'd Arch betray'd;

Whirl'd down a Steep, it flies with torrent-Force,

Flaſhes, and roars, and plows a devious Courſe.

Attracted Miſts a golden Cloud commence,
While thro' high-colour'd Air ſtrike Rays intenſe.
Betwixt two Points, which yon ſteep Mountains ſhow,
Lies a mild Bay, to which kind Breezes flow.
Beneath a Grotto, arch'd for calm Retreat,
Leads length'ning in the Rock—Be this my Seat.
Heat never enters here; but Coolneſs reigns
O'er Zephyrs, and diſtilling, watry Veins.
Secluded now I trace th'inſtructive Page,
And live o'er Scenes of many a backward Age;
Thro' Days, Months, Years, thro' Time's whole Courſe I run,
And preſent ſtand where Time it ſelf begun.

[94]Ye mighty Dead of juſt, diſtinguiſh'd Fame,
Your Thoughts, (ye bright Inſtructers!) here I claim.
Here ancient Knowledge opens Nature's Springs;
Here Truths hiſtoric give the Hearts of Kings.
Hence Contemplation learns white Hours to find,
And labours Virtue on th'attentive Mind.
O lov'd Retreat! thy Joys Content beſtow,
Nor Guilt, nor Shame, nor ſharp Repentance know.
What the fifth Charles long aim'd in Power to ſee,
That Happineſs he found reſerv'd in Thee.

Now let me change the Page—Here Tully weeps,
While in Death's icy Arms his Tullia ſleeps,
His Daughter dear!—Retir'd I ſee him mourn,
By all the Frenzy now of Anguiſh torn.

[95]Wild his Complaint! Nor ſweeter Sorrow's Strains,
When Singer for Alexis loſt complains.
Each Friend condoles, expoſtulates, reproves:
More than a Father raving Tully loves;
Or Salluſt cenſures thus!—Unheeding Blame,
He ſchemes a Temple to his Tullia's Name.
Thus o'er my Hermit once did Grief prevail,
Thus roſe Olympia's Tomb, his moving Tale,
The Sighs, Tears, frantic Starts, that baniſh Reſt,
And all the burſting Sorrows of his Breaſt.

But hark! a ſudden Pow'r attunes the Air!
Th'inchanting Sound enamour'd Breezes bear;
Now low, now high, they ſink, or lift the Song,
Which the Cave echoes ſweet, and ſweet the Creeks prolong.

[96]I liſten'd, gaz'd, when, wondrous to behold!
From Ocean ſteam'd a Vapour gath'ring roll'd:
A blue, round Spot on the Mid-roof it came,
Spread broad, and redden'd into dazzling Flame.
Full-orb'd it ſhone, and dimm'd the ſwimming Sight,
While doubling Objects danc'd with darkling Light.
Amaz'd I ſtood!—amaz'd I ſtill remain!
What earthly Pow'r this Wonder can explain?
Gradual at length the Luſtre dies away:
My Eyes reſtor'd a mortal Form ſurvey.
My Hermit-Friend? 'Tis He.—All hail! (he cries.)
I ſee, and wou'd alleviate thy Surprize.
The vaniſh'd Meteor was Heaven's Meſſage meant,
To warn thee hence; I knew the high Intent.
Hear then! In this ſequeſter'd Cave retir'd,
Departed Saints converſe with Men inſpir'd.

[97]'Tis ſacred Ground; nor can thy Mind endure,
Yet unprepar'd, an Intercourſe ſo pure.
Quick let us hence—And now extend thy Views
O'er yonder Lawn; there find the heav'n-born Muſe!
Or ſeek her, where ſhe truſts her tuneful Tale
To the mid, ſilent Wood, or vocal Vale;
Where Trees half check the Light with trembling Shades,
Cloſe in deep Glooms, or open clear in Glades:
Or where ſurrounding Viſtas far deſcend,
The Landſcape varied at each leſs'ning End!
She, only She can mortal Thought refine,
And raiſe thy Voice to Viſitants divine.

END of the FOURTH CANTO.

THE WANDERER. A VISION.
CANTO V.

[]

WE left the Cave. Be Fear (ſaid I) de⯑fied!
Virtue (for thou art Virtue) is my Guide.
By time-worn Steps a ſteep Aſcent we gain,
Whoſe Summit yields a Proſpect o'er the Plain.
There bench'd with Turf, an Oak our Seat extends,
Whoſe Top a verdant, branch'd Pavilion bends.
[99] Viſtas with Leaves diverſify the Scene,
Some pale, ſome brown, and ſome of lively green.

Now from the full-grown Day a beamy Shower
Gleams on the Lake, and gilds each gloſſy Flower.
Gay Inſects ſparkle in the genial Blaze,
Various as Light, and countleſs as its Rays.
They dance on ev'ry Stream, and pictur'd play,
Till by the watry Racer ſnatch'd away.

Now, from yon Range of Rocks, ſtrong Rays rebound,
Doubling the Day on flow'ry Plains around:
Kingcups beneath far-ſtriking Colours glance,
Bright as th'etherial glows the green Expanſe.
Gems of the Field!—the Topaz charms the Sight,
Like theſe, effulging yellow Streams of Light.
[100] From the ſame Rocks fall Rills with ſoften'd Force,
Meet in yon Mead, and well a River's Source.
Thro' her clear Chanel ſhine her finny Shoals,
O'er Sands, like Gold, the liquid Cryſtal rolls.
Dim'd in yon coarſer Moor her Charms decay,
And ſhape thro' ruſtling Reeds a ruffled Way.
Near Willows ſhort and buſhy Shadows throw:
Now loſt, ſhe ſeems thro' nether Tracts to flow;
Yet, at yon Point, winds out in Silver State,
Like Virtue from a Labyrinth of Fate.
In length'ning Rows prone from the Mountains run
The Flocks:—their Fleeces gliſt'ning in the Sun;
Her Streams they ſeek, and, 'twixt her neighb'ring Trees,
Recline in various Attitudes of Eaſe.
Where the Herds ſip, the little ſcaly Fry,
Swift from the Shore, in ſcatt'ring Myriads fly.

[101]Each liv'ried Cloud, that round th' Horizonglows,
Shifts in odd Scenes, like Earth, from whence it roſe.
The Bee hums wanton in yon Jeſs'mine Bower,
And circling ſettles, and deſpoils the Flower.
Melodious there the plumy Songſters meet,
And call charm'd Echo from her arch'd Retreat.
Neat, poliſh'd Manſions riſe in Proſpect gay;
Time-batter'd Tow'rs frown awful in Decay;
The Sun plays glitt'ring on the Rocks, and Spires,
And the Lawn lightens with reflected Fires.

Here Mirth, and Fancy's wanton Train advance,
And to light Meaſures turn the ſwimming Dance.
Sweet, ſlow-pac'd Melancholy next appears,
Pompous in Grief, and Eloquent of Tears.
[102] Here Meditation ſhines in Azure dreſt,
All-ſtarr'd with Gems: A Sun adorns her Creſt.
Religion, to whoſe lifted, raptur'd Eyes
Seraphic Hoſts deſcend from opening Skies;
Beauty, who ſways the Heart, and charms the Sight;
Whoſe Tongue is Muſic, and whoſe Smile Delight;
Whoſe Brow is Majeſty; whoſe Boſom Peace;
Who bad Creation be, and Chaos ceaſe;
Whoſe Breath perfumes the Spring; whoſe Eye divine
Kindled the Sun, and gave its Light to ſhine.
Here in thy Likeneſs fair * Ophelia ſeen,
She throws kind Luſtre o'er th' enliven'd Green.
Next her Deſcription, robed in various Hues,
Invites Attention from the penſive Muſe!
[103] The Muſe!—ſhe comes! refin'd the Paſſions wait,
And Precept, ever winning, wiſe, and great.
The Muſe! a thouſand Spirits wing the Air:
(Once Men, who made like her Mankind their Care.)
Inamour'd round her preſs th'inſpiring Throng,
And ſwell to Extacy her ſolemn Song.

Thus in the Dame each nobler Grace we find,
Fair Wortley's angel-Accent, Eyes, and Mind.
Whether her Sight the dew-bright Dawn ſurveys,
The Noon's dry Heat, or Evening's temper'd Rays,
The Hours of Storm, or Calm, the gleby Ground,
The corral'd Sea, gem'd Rock, or Sky proſound,
A Raphael's Fancy animates each Line,
Each Image ſtrikes with Energy divine;
Bacon, and Newton in her Thought conſpire;
Not ſweeter than her Voice is Hendel's Lyre.

[104]

My Hermit thus. She beckons us away:

Oh, let us ſwift the high Beheſt obey!

Now thro' a Lane, which mingling Tracts have croſt,
The Way unequal, and the Landſcape loſt,
We rove. The Warblers lively Tunes eſſay,
The Lark on Wing, the Linnet on the Spray.
While Muſic trembles in their ſongful Throats,
The Bullfinch whiſtles ſoft his flute-like Notes.
The bolder Blackbird ſwells ſonorous Lays;
The varying Thruſh commands a tuneful Maze;
Each a wild Length of Melody purſues;
While the ſoft-murm'ring, am'rous Wood-Dove cooes.
And, when in Spring theſe melting Mixtures flow,
The Cuckoo ſends her Uniſon of Woe.

[105]But as ſmooth Seas are ſurrow'd by a Storm;
As Troubles all our tranquil Joys deform;
So, loud thro' Air, unwelcome Noiſes ſound,
And Harmony's, at once, in Diſcord, drown'd.
From yon dark Cypreſs croaks the Raven's Cry;
As diſſonant the Daw, Jay, chatt'ring Pye:
The clam'rous Crows abandon'd Carnage ſeek,
And the harſh Owl ſhrills out a ſharp'ning Shriek.

At the Lane's End a high-lath'd Gate's prefer'd,
To bar the Treſpaſs of a vagrant Herd.
Faſt by, a meagre Mendicant we find,
Whoſe ruſſet Rags hang flutt'ring in the Wind:
Years bow his Back, a Staff ſupports his Tread,
And ſoft white Hairs ſhade thin his palſied Head.
[106] Poor Wretch!—Is this for Charity his Haunt?
He meets the frequent Slight, and ruthleſs Taunt.
On Slaves of Guilt oft ſmiles the ſquand'ring Peer;
But paſſing knows not common Bounty here.
Vain thing! in what doſt thou ſuperior ſhine?
His our firſt Sire: what Race more ancient thine?
Leſs backward trac'd, he may his Lineage draw
From Men, whoſe Influence kept the World in awe:
Whoſe worthleſs Sons, like thee, perchance con⯑ſum'd
Their ample Store, their Line to Want was doom'd.
So thine may periſh by the courſe of Things,
While his from Beggers re-aſcend to Kings.
Now Lazar, as thy Hardſhips I peruſe,
On my own State inſtructed wou'd I muſe.
When I view Greatneſs, I my Lot lament,
Compar'd to thee, I ſnatch ſupreme Content.
[107] I might have felt, did Heav'n not gracious deal,
A Fate, which I muſt mourn to ſee thee feel.
But ſoft! the Cripple our Approach deſcries,
And to the Gate, tho' weak, officious hies.
I ſpring preventive, and unbar the Way,
Then, turning, with a Smile of Pity ſay,
Here, Friend!—this little, copper Alms receive;
Inſtance of Will, without the Pow'r to give.
Hermit, if here with Pity we reflect,
How muſt we grieve, when Learning meets Neg⯑lect?
When God-like Souls endure a mean Reſtraint;
When gen'rous Will is curb'd by tyrant Want;
He truly feels what to Diſtreſs belongs,
Who, to his private, adds a People's Wrongs;
Merit's a Mark, at which Diſgrace is thrown,
And ev'ry injur'd Virtue is his own.
[108] Such their own Pangs with Patience here endure,
Yet there weep Wounds, they are denied to cure.
Thus rich in Poverty, thus humbly Great,
And tho' depreſs'd ſuperior to their Fate.
Minions in Pow'r, and Miſers, mid their Store,
Are mean in Greatneſs, and in Plenty poor.
What's Pow'r, or Wealth? Were they not form'd for Aid,
A Spring for Virtue, and from Wrongs a Shade?
In Pow'r we ſalvage Tyranny behold,
And wily Av'rice owns polluted Gold.
From golden Sands her Pride cou'd Lybia raiſe,
Cou'd ſhe, who ſpreads no Paſture, claim our Praiſe?
Loath'd were her Wealth, where rabid Monſters breed;
Where Serpents, pamper'd, on her Venom, feed.
No ſheltry Trees invite the Wand'rer's Eye,
No Fruits, no Grain, no Gums, her Tracts ſupply;
[109] On her vaſt Wilds no lovely Proſpects run;
But all lies barren, tho' beneath the Sun.

My Hermit thus. I know thy Soul believes,
'Tis hard Vice triumphs, and that Virtue grieves;
Yet oft Affliction purifies the Mind,
Kind Benefits oft flow from Means unkind.
Were the whole known, what we uncouth ſuppoſe,
Doubtleſs, wou'd beauteous Symmetry diſcloſe.
The naked Cliff, that ſingly rough remains,
In Proſpect dignifies the fertile Plains;
Lead-colour'd Clouds, in ſcatt'ring Fragments ſeen,
Shew, tho' in broken Views, the blue ſerene.
Severe Diſtreſſes Induſtry inſpire;
Thus Captives oft excelling Arts acquire,
And boldly ſtruggle thro' a State of Shame,
To Life, Eaſe, Plenty, Liberty and Fame.
[110] Sword-law has often Europe's Ballance gain'd,
And one red Vict'ry Years of Peace maintain'd.
We paſs thro' Want to Wealth, thro' diſmal Strife
To calm Content, thro' Death to endleſs Life.
Lybia thou nam'ſt—Let Africk's Waſtes appear
Curſt by thoſe Heats, that fructify the Year;
Yet the ſame Suns her Orange-Groves befriend,
Where cluſt'ring Globes in ſhining Rows depend.
Here when fierce Beams o'er with'ring Plants are roll'd,
There the green Fruit ſeems ripen'd into Gold.
Ev'n Scenes, that ſtrike with terrible Surprize,
Still prove a God, juſt, merciful, and wiſe.
Sad wintry Blaſts, that ſtrip the Autumn, bring
The milder Beauties of a flow'ry Spring.
Ye ſulph'rous Fires in jaggy Lightnings break!
Ye Thunders rattle, and ye Nations ſhake!
[111] Ye Storms of riving Flame the Foreſt tear!
Deep crack ye Rocks! rent Trees be whirl'd in Air!
Reft at a Stroke, ſome ſtately Fane we'll mourn;
Her Tombs wide-ſhatter'd, and her Dead up-torn;
Were noxious Spirits not from Caverns drawn,
Rack'd Earth wou'd ſoon in Gulphs enormous yawn:
Then all were loſt!—Or ſhou'd we floating view
The baleful Cloud, there wou'd Deſtruction brew;
Plague, Fever, Frenzy cloſe-engend'ring lie,
'Till theſe red Ruptures clear the ſullied Sky.

Now a Field opens to enlarge my Thought,
In parcell'd Tracts to various Uſes wrought.
Here hard'ning Ripeneſs the firſt Blooms behold,
There the laſt Bloſſoms Spring-like Pride unfold.
Here ſwelling Peas on leafy Stalks are ſeen,
Mix'd Flow'rs of Red and Azure ſhine between;
[112] Whoſe waving Beauties, heighten'd by the Sun,
In colour'd Lanes along the Furrows run.
There the next Produce of a genial Shower,
The Bean Freſh-bloſſoms in a ſpeckled Flower;
Whoſe morning Dews, when to the Sun reſign'd,
With undulating Sweets embalm the Wind.
Now daiſy Plats of Clover ſquare the Plain,
And part the bearded from the beardleſs Grain.
There fibrous Flax with Verdure binds the Field,
Which on the Loom ſhall art-ſpun Labours yield.
The Mulb'ry, in fair ſummer Green array'd,
Full in the midſt ſtarts up, a ſilky Shade.
For human Taſte the rich'd-ſtain'd Fruitage bleeds;
The Leaf the ſilk-emitting Reptile feeds.
As Swans their Down, as Flocks their Fleeces leave,
Here Worms for Man their gloſſy Entrails weave.
[113] Hence to adorn the Fair, in Texture gay,
Sprigs, Fruits, and Flow'rs on figur'd Veſtments play:
But Induſtry prepares them oft to pleaſe
The guilty Pride of vain, luxuriant Eaſe.

Now frequent, duſty Gales offenſive blow,
And o'er my Sight a tranſient Blindneſs throw.
Windward we ſhift. Near down th'etherial Steep,
The Lamp of Day hangs hov'ring o'er the Deep.
Dun Shades, in rocky Shapes up Ether roll'd,
Project long, ſhaggy Points, deep-ting'd with Gold.
Others take faint th'unripen'd Cherry's Die,
And paint amuſing Landſcapes on the Eye.
There blue-veil'd Yellow, thro' a Sky ſerene,
In ſwelling Mixture forms a floating Green.
Streak'd thro' white Clouds a mild Vermilion ſhines,
And the Breeze freſhens, as the Heat declines.

[114]Yon crooked, ſunny Roads change riſing Views
From brown, to ſandy-red, and chalky Hues.
One mingled Scene another quick ſucceeds,
Men, Chariots, Teams, yok'd Steers, and prancing Steeds,
Which climb, deſcend, and, as loud Whips reſound,
Stretch, ſweat, and ſmoke along unequal Ground.
On winding Thames, reflecting radiant Beams,
When Boats, Ships, Barges mark the roughen'd Streams,
This Way, and that, they diff'rent Points purſue;
So mix the Motions, and ſo ſhifts the View.
While thus we throw around our gladden'd Eyes,
The Gifts of Heav'n in gay Profuſion riſe;
Trees rich with Gums, and Fruits; with Jewels Rocks;
Plains with Flow'rs, Herbs, and Plants, and Beeves, and Flocks;
Mountains with Mines; with Oak, and Cedar, Woods;
Quarries with Marble, and with Fiſh the Floods.
[115] In dark'ning Spots, mid Fields of various Dies,
Tilth new-manur'd, or naked Fallow lies.
Near Uplands fertile Pride enclos'd diſplay,
The green Graſs yellowing into ſcentful Hay,
And thick-ſet Hedges ſence the full-ear'd Corn,
And Berries blacken on the virid Thorn.
Mark in yon Heath oppos'd the cultur'd Scene,
Wild Thyme, pale Box, and Firs of darker green.
The native Strawberry red-ripening grows,
By Nettles guarded, as by Thorns the Roſe.
There Nightingales in unprun'd Copſes build,
In ſhaggy Furzes lies the Hare conceal'd.
'Twixt Ferns, and Thiſtles, unſown Flow'rs amuſe,
And form a lucid Chaſe of various Hues;
Many half-grey with Duſt: Confus'd they lie,
Scent the rich Year, and lead the wand'ring Eye.

[116]Contemplative, we tread the flow'ry Plain,
The Muſe preceding with her heav'nly Train.
When, lo! the Mendicant, ſo late behind,
Strange View! now journeying in our Front we find!
And yet a View more ſtrange our Heed demands;
Touch'd by the Muſe's Wand transform'd he ſtands.
O'er Skin late-wrinkled, inſtant Beauty ſpreads;
The late-dimm'd Eye a vivid Luſtre ſheds;
Hairs, once ſo thin, now graceful Locks decline;
And Rags, now chang'd, in regal Veſtments ſhine.

The Hermit thus. In him the BARD behold,
Once ſeen by Midnight's Lamp in Winter's Cold;
The Bard, whoſe Want ſo multiplied his Woes,
He ſunk a Mortal, and a Seraph roſe.
[117] See!—where thoſe ſtately Yew-Trees darkling grow,
And, waving o'er yon Graves, brown Horrors throw,
Scornful he points—there, o'er his ſacred Duſt,
Ariſe the ſculptur'd Tomb, and labour'd Buſt.
Vain Pomp! beſtow'd by oſtentatious Pride,
Who to a Life of Want Relief deny'd.

But thus the Bard. Are theſe the Gifts of State?
Gifts unreceiv'd!—Theſe? Ye ungen'rous Great!
How was I treated when in Life forlorn?
My Claim your Pity; but my Lot your Scorn.
Why were my ſtudious Hours oppos'd by Need?
In me did Poverty from Guilt proceed?
Did I contemporary Authors wrong,
And deem their Worth, but as they priz'd my Song?
Did I ſooth Vice, or venal Strokes betray
In the low-purpos'd, loud, polemic Fray?
[118] Did e'er my Verſe immodeſt Warmth contain,
Or, once licentious, heav'nly Truths prophane?
Never.—And yet when Envy ſunk my Name,
Who call'd my ſhadow'd Merit into Fame?
When undeſerv'd a Priſon's Grate I ſaw,
What Hand redeem'd me from the wreſted Law?
Who cloath'd me naked, or when hungry fed?
Why cruſh'd the Living? Why extoll'd the Dead?
But foreign Languages adopt my Lays,
And diſtant Nations ſhame you into Praiſe.
Why ſhou'd unreliſh'd Wit theſe Honours cauſe?
Cuſtom, not Knowledge, dictates your Applauſe:
Or think you thus a ſelf-Renown to raiſe,
And mingle your Vain-Glories with my Bays?
Be Your's the mould'ring Tomb! Be mine the Lay
Immortal!—Thus he ſcoffs the Pomp away.

[119]Tho' Words like theſe unletter'd Pride impeach,
To the meek Heart he turns with milder Speech.
Tho' now a Seraph, oft he deigns to wear
The Face of human Friendſhip, oft of Care;
To walk diſguis'd an Object of Relief,
A learn'd, good Man, long exercis'd in Grief;
Forlorn, a friendleſs Orphan oft to roam,
Craving ſome kind, ſome hoſpitable Home;
Or, like Ulyſſes, a low Lazar ſtand,
Beſeeching Pity's Eye, and Bounty's Hand;
Or, like Ulyſſes, Royal Aid requeſt,
Wand'ring from Court to Court, a King diſtreſt.
Thus varying Shapes, the ſeeming Son of Woe
Eyes the cold Heart, and Hearts that gen'rous glow;
Then to the Muſe relates each lordly Name,
Who deals impartial Infamy, and Fame.
[120] Oft, as when Man, in mortal State depreſs'd,
His Lays taught Virtue, which his Life confeſs'd,
He now forms viſionary Scenes below,
Inſpiring Patience in the Heart of Woe;
Patience that ſoftens every ſad Extreme,
That caſts thro' Dungeon-Glooms a chearful Gleam,
Diſarms Diſeaſe of Pain, mocks Slander's Sting,
And ſtrips of Terrors the terrific King,
'Gainſt Want, a ſourer Foe, its Succour lends,
And ſmiling ſees th' Ingratitude of Friends.

Nor are theſe Tasks to him alone conſign'd,
Millions inviſible befriend Mankind.
When watry Structures, ſeen croſs Heav'n t'aſcend,
Arch above Arch in radiant Order bend,
Fancy beholds, a-down each glitt'ring Side,
Myriads of miſſionary Seraphs glide;
[121] She ſees good Angels genial Show'rs beſtow
From the red Convex of the dewy Bow.
They ſmile upon the Swain: He views the Prize;
Then grateful bends, to bleſs the bounteous Skies.
Some collect Winds, and ſend propitious Gales
Oft where Britannia's Navy ſpreads her Sails;
There ever wafting, on the Breath of Fame,
Unequal'd Glory in her Sovereign's Name.
Some teach young Zephyrs vernal Sweets to bear,
And float the balmy Health on ambient Air;
Zephyrs, that, oft where Lovers liſt'ning lie,
Along the Grove in melting Muſic die,
And in lone Caves to Minds poetic roll
Seraphic Whiſpers, that abſtract the Soul.
Some range the Colours, as they parted fly,
Clear-pointed to the philoſophic Eye,
[122] The flaming Red, that pains the dwelling Gaze;
The ſtainleſs, lightſome Yellow's gilding Rays;
The clouded Orange, that betwixt them grows,
And to kind Mixture tawny Luſtre owes;
All-chearing Green, that gives the Spring its Dye;
The bright, tranſparent Blue, that robes the Sky;
And Indico, which ſhaded Light diſplays;
And Violet, which in the View decays.
Parental Hues, whence Others all proceed;
An ever-mingling, changeful, countleſs Breed;
Unravel'd, variegated Lines of Light,
When blended, dazzling in promiſcuous White.
Oft thro' theſe Bows departed Spirits range,
New to the Skies, admiring at their Change;
Each Mind a Void, as when firſt-born to Earth,
Beheld a ſecond Blank in ſecond Birth;
[123] Then, as yon Seraph-Bard fram'd Hearts below,
Each ſees him here tranſcendant Knowledge ſhow.
New Saints he tutors into Truth refin'd,
And tunes to rapt'rous Love the new-form'd Mind.
He ſwells the Lyre, whoſe loud, melodious Lays
Call high Hoſannahs from the Voice of Praiſe;
Tho' one bad Age ſuch Poëſy cou'd wrong,
Now Worlds around retentive roll the Song:
Now God's high Throne the full-voic'd Raptures gain,
Coeleſtial Hoſts returning Strain for Strain.

Thus he, who once knew Want without Relief,
Sees Joy reſulting from well-ſuff'ring Grief.
Hark! while we talk, a diſtant, patt'ring Rain
Reſounds!—See! up th'etherial Plain
Shoots the bright Bow!—The Seraph flitts away;
The Muſe, the Graces from our View decay.

[124]

Behind yon weſtern Hill the Globe of Light

Drops ſudden; faſt-purſued by Shades of Night.

Yon Graves from winter-Scenes to Mind recall
Rebellion's Council, and Rebellion's Fall.
What Fiends in ſulph'rous, Car-like Clouds up⯑flew?
What midnight Treaſon glar'd beneath their View?
And now the Traytors rear their Babel Schemes,
Big, and more big, ſtupendous Miſchief ſeems;
But Juſtice, rouz'd, ſuperior Strength employs,
Their Scheme wide-ſhatters, and their Hope de⯑ſtroys.
Diſcord ſhe wills; the miſſile Ruin flies;
Sudden, unnatural Debates ariſe,
Doubt, mutual Jealouſy, and dumb Diſguſt,
Dark-hinted Mutt'rings, and avow'd Diſtruſt;
[125] To ſecret Ferment is each Heart reſign'd;
Suſpicion hovers in each clouded Mind;
They jar, accus'd accuſe, revil'd revile,
And Wrath to Wrath oppoſe, and Guile to Guile;
Wrangling they part, themſelves themſelves be⯑tray;
Each dire Device ſtarts naked into Day;
They feel Confuſion in the Van with Fear;
They feel the King of Terrors in the Rear.

Of theſe were Three by diff'rent Motives fir'd,
Ambition One, and One Revenge inſpir'd.
The Third, O Mammon, was thy meaner Slave;
Thou Idol ſeldom of the Great, and Brave.

Florio, whoſe Life was one continu'd Feaſt,
His Wealth diminiſh'd, and his Debts increas'd,
[126] Vain Pomp, and Equipage his low Deſires,
Who ne'er to intellectual Bliſs aſpires;
He, to repair by Vice what Vice has broke,
Durſt with bold Treaſons Judgment's Rod provoke.
His Strength of Mind, by Lux'ry half-diſſolv'd,
Ill brooks the Woe, where deep he ſtands involv'd.
He weeps, ſtamps wild, and to and fro now flies;
Now wrings his Hands, and ſends unmanly Cries,
Arraigns his Judge, affirms unjuſt he bleeds,
And now recants, and now for Mercy pleads;
Now blames Aſſociates, raves with inward Strife,
Upbraids himſelf; then thinks alone on Life.
He rolls red-ſwelling, tearful Eyes around,
Sore ſmites his Breaſt, and ſinks upon the Ground.
He wails, he quite deſponds, convulſive lies,
Shrinks from the fancied Ax, and thinks he dies:
[127] Revives, with Hope enquires, ſtops ſhort with Fear,
Entreats ev'n Flatt'ry, nor the worſt will hear;
The worſt, alas, his Doom!—What Friend re⯑plies?
Each ſpeaks with ſhaking Head, and down-caſt Eyes.
One Silence breaks, then pauſes, drops a Tear;
Nor Hope affords, nor quite confirms his Fear;
But what kind Friendſhip part reſerves unknown
Comes thund'ring in his Keeper's ſurly Tone.
Enough—ſtruck thro' and thro', in ghaſtly Stare,
He ſtands transfixt, the Statue of Deſpair;
Nor ought of Life, nor ought of Death he knows,
Till Thought returns, and brings Return of Woes:
Now pours a Storm of Grief in guſhing Streams:
That paſt—Collected in himſelf he ſeems,
And with forc'd Smile retires—His latent Thought
Dark, horrid, as the Priſon's diſmal Vault.

[128]If with himſelf at Variance ever-wild,
With angry Heav'n how ſtands he reconcil'd?
No penitential Oriſons ariſe;
Nay he obteſts the Juſtice of the Skies.
Not for his Guilt, for ſentenc'd Life he moans;
His Chains rough-clanking to diſcordant Groans,
To Bars harſh-grating, heavy-creaking Doors,
Hoarſe-echoing Walls, and hollow-ringing Floors,
To Thoughts more diſſonant, far, far leſs kind,
One Anarchy, one Chaos of the Mind.

At length, fatigu'd with Grief, on Earth he lies:
But ſoon as Sleep weighs down th'unwilling Eyes,
Glad Liberty appears, no Damps annoy;
Treaſon ſucceeds, and all transforms to Joy.
[129] Proud Palaces their glitt'ring Stores diſplay;
Gain he purſues, and Rapine leads the Way.
What Gold? What Gems?—He ſtrains to ſeize the Prize;
Quick from his Touch diſſolv'd, a Cloud it flies.
Conſcious he cries.—And muſt I wake to weep?
Ah, yet return, return deluſive Sleep!
Sleep comes; but Liberty no more:—Unkind,
The Dungeon-Glooms hang heavy on his Mind.
Shrill Winds are heard, and howling Daemons call;
Wide-flying Portals ſeem unhing'd to fall;
Then cloſe with ſudden Claps; a dreadful Din!
He ſtarts, wakes, ſtorms, and all is Hell within.

His Genius flies—reflects he now on Prayer?
Alas! bad Spirits turn thoſe Thoughts to Air.
What ſhall he next? What, ſtraight relinquiſh Breath,
To bar a publick, juſt, tho' ſhameful Death?
[130] Raſh, horrid Thought! yet now afraid to live,
Murd'rous he ſtrikes—May Heav'n the Deed forgive!

Why had he thus falſe Spirit to rebel?
And why not Fortitude to ſuffer well?
Were his Succeſs, how terrible the Blow?
And its Recoil on him eternal Woe.
Heav'n this Affliction then for Mercy meant,
That a good End might cloſe a Life miſpent.

Where no kind Lips the hallow'd Dirge reſound,
Far from the Compaſs of yon ſacred Ground;
Full in the Center of three meeting Ways,
Stak'd thro' he lies.—Warn'd let the Wicked gaze!

Near yonder Fane, where Mis'ry ſleeps in Peace,
Whoſe Spire faſt-leſſens, as theſe Shades encreaſe,
[131] Left to the North, whence oft brew'd Tempeſts roll,
Tempeſts, dire Emblems, Coſmo, of thy Soul!
There mark that Coſmo, much for Guile renown'd!
His Grave by unbid Plants of Poiſon crown'd.
When out of Pow'r, thro' him the Publick Good,
So ſtrong his factious Tribe, ſuſpended ſtood.
In Pow'r, vindictive Actions were his Aim,
And Patriots periſh'd by th' ungenerous Flame.
If the beſt Cauſe he in the Senate choſe,
Ev'n Right in him from ſome wrong Motive roſe.
The Bad he loath'd, and wou'd the Weak deſpiſe;
Yet courted for dark Ends, and ſhun'd the Wiſe.
When ill his Purpoſe, eloquent his Strain;
His Malice had a Look, and Voice humane.
His Smile, the Signal of ſome vile Intent,
A private Ponyard, or empoiſon'd Scent;
[132] Proud, yet to popular Applauſe a Slave;
No Friend he honour'd, and no Foe forgave.
His Boons unfrequent, or unjuſt to Need;
The Hire of Guilt, of Infamy the Meed,
But if they chanc'd on Learned Worth to fall,
Bounty in him was Oſtentation all.
No true Benevolence his Thought ſublimes,
His nobleſt Actions are illuſtrious Crimes.
Fine Parts, which Virtue might have rank'd with Fame,
Enhance his Guilt, and magnify his Shame.
When Parts, and Probity in Man combine,
In Wiſdom's Eye, How charming muſt he ſhine?
Let him, leſs happy, Truth at leaſt impart,
And what he wants in Genius bear in Heart.

Coſmo, as Death draws nigh, no more conceals
That Storm of Paſſions, which his Nature feels;
[133] He feels much Fear, more Anger, and moſt Pride;
But Pride and Anger make all Fear ſubſide.
Dauntleſs He meets at length untimely Fate;
A deſp'rate Spirit! rather Fierce, than Great.
Darkling he glides along the dreary Coaſt,
A ſullen, wand'ring, ſelf-tormenting Ghoſt.

Where veiny Marble dignifies the Ground,
With Emblem fair in Sculpture riſing round,
Juſt where a croſſing, length'ning Iſle we find,
Full Eaſt; whence God returns to judge Mankind,
Once-lov'd Horatio ſleeps, a Mind elate!
Lamented Shade, Ambition was thy Fate!
Ev'n Angels, wond'ring, oft his Worth ſurvey'd;
Behold a Man, like One of Us! they ſaid.
Straight heard the Furies, and with Envy glar'd,
And to precipitate his Fall prepar'd:
[134] Firſt Av'rice came. In vain Self-Love ſhe preſs'd;
The Poor he pitied ſtill, and ſtill redreſs'd:
Learning was his, and Knowledge to commend,
Of Arts a Patron, and of Want a Friend.
Next came Revenge: But her Eſſay, how vain?
Nor Hate, nor Envy, in his Heart remain.
No previous Malice cou'd his Mind engage,
Malice, the Mother of vindictive Rage.
No—from his Life his Foes might learn to live;
He held it ſtill a Triumph to forgive.
At length Ambition urg'd his Country's Weal,
Aſſuming the fair Look of publick Zeal;
Still in his Breaſt ſo gen'rous glow'd the Flame,
The Vice, when there, a Virtue half became.
His pitying Eye ſaw Millions in Diſtreſs,
He deem'd it God-like to have Pow'r to bleſs;
[135] Thus, when unguarded, Treaſon ſtain'd him o'er,
And Virtue, and Content were then no more.

But when to Death by rig'rous Juſtice doom'd,
His genuine Spirit Saint-like State reſum'd.
Oft from ſoft Penitence diſtill'd a Tear;
Oft Hope in heav'nly Mercy lighten'd Fear;
Oft wou'd a Drop from ſtrugling Nature fall,
And then a Smile of Patience brighten all.

He ſeeks in Heav'n a Friend, nor ſeeks in vain;
His guardian Angel ſwift deſcends again;
And Reſolution thus beſpeaks a Mind,
Not ſcorning Life, yet all to Death reſign'd;
—Ye Chains, fit only to reſtrain the Will
Of common, deſp'rate Veterans in Ill,
[136] Tho' rankling on my Limbs ye lie, declare,
Did e'er my riſing Soul your Preſſure wear?
No!—free as Liberty, and quick as Light,
To Worlds remote ſhe takes unbounded Flight.
Ye Dungeon-Glooms, that dim corporeal Eyes,
Cou'd ye once blot her Proſpect of the Skies?
No!—from her clearer Sight, ye fled away,
Like Error, pierc'd by Truths reſiſtleſs Ray.
Ye Walls, that witneſs my repentant Moan!
Ye Echoes, that to midnight Sorrows groan!
Do I, in Wrath, to you of Fate complain?
Or once betray Fear's moſt inglorious Pain?
No!—Hail, twice hail then ignominious Death!
Behold how willing glides my parting Breath!
Far greater, better far,—Ay ſar indeed!
Like me, have ſuffer'd, and like me will bleed.
[137] Apoſtles, Patriarchs, Prophets, Martyrs all,
Like me, once fell, nor murmur'd at their Fall.
Shall I, whoſe Days, at beſt, no Ill deſign'd,
Whoſe Virtue ſhone not, tho' I lov'd Mankind,
Shall I, now guilty Wretch, ſhall I repine?
Ah, no! to Juſtice let me Life reſign!
Quick, as a Friend, wou'd I embrace my Foe!
He taught me Patience, who firſt taught me Woe;
But Friends are Foes, they render Woe ſevere,
For me they wail, from me extort the Tear.
Not thoſe, yet-abſent, miſſive Griefs controul;
Theſe Periods weep, thoſe rave, and theſe condole.
At Entrance ſhrieks a Friend, with pale Surprize;
Another panting, proſtrate, ſpeechleſs lies;
One gripes my Hand, one ſobs upon my Breaſt!
Ah, who can bear?—It ſhocks, it murders Reſt!
[138] And is it your's, alas! my Friends to feel?
And is it mine to comfort, mine to heal?
Is mine the Patience, your's the Boſom-ſtrife?
Ah! wou'd raſh Love lure back my Thoughts to Life?
Adieu, dear, dang'rous Mourners! ſwift depart!
Ah, fly me! fly!—I tear ye from my Heart.

Ye Saints, whom Fears of Death cou'd ne'er controul,
In my laſt Hour compoſe, ſupport my Soul!
See my Blood waſh repented Sin away!
Receive, receive me to eternal Day!

With Words like theſe the deſtin'd Hero dies,

While Angels waft his Soul to happier Skies.

Diſtinction now gives way; yet on we talk,
Full Darkneſs deep'ning o'er the formleſs Walk.
[139] Night treads not with light Step the dewy Gale,
Nor bright-diſtends her Star-embroider'd Veil;
Her leaden Feet inclement Damps diſtill,
Clouds ſhut her Face, black Winds her Veſture fill;
An Earth-born Meteor lights the ſable Skies,
Eaſtward it ſhoots, and, ſunk, forgotten dies.
So Pride, that roſe from Duſt to guilty Pow'r,
Glares out in vain, ſo Duſt ſhall Pride devour.

Fiſhers, who yonder Brink by Torches gain,
With teethful Tridents ſtrike the ſcaly Train.
Like Snakes in Eagles' Claws, in vain they ſtrive,
When heav'd aloft, and quiv'ring yet-alive.

While here, methought, our Time in Converſe paſs'd,
The Moon Clouds muffl'd, and the Night wore faſt.
[140] At prowling Wolves was heard the Maſtiff's Bay,
And the warn'd Maſter's Arms forbad the Prey.
Thus Treaſon ſteals, the Patriot thus deſcries,
Forth-ſprings the Monarch, and the Miſchief flies.

Pale Glow-worms glimmer'd thro' the Depth of Night,
Scatt'ring, like Hope thro' Fear, a doubtful Light.
Lone Philomela tun'd the ſilent Grove,
With penſive Pleaſure liſten'd wakeful Love.
Half-dreaming Fancy form'd an Angel's Tongue,
And Pain forgot to groan, ſo ſweet ſhe ſung.
The Night-Crone, with the Melody alarm'd,
Now paus'd, now liſten'd, and awhile was charm'd;
But like the Man, whoſe frequent-ſtubborn Will
Reſiſts what kind, ſeraphic Sounds inſtill;
[141] Her Heart the Love-inſpiring Voice repell'd,
Her Breaſt with agitating Miſchief ſwell'd;
Which clos'd her Ear, and tempted to deſtroy
The tuneful Life, that charms with vertuous Joy.

Now faſt we meaſure back the trackleſs Way;
No friendly Stars directive Beams diſplay.
But, lo!—a thouſand Lights ſhoot inſtant Rays!
Yon kindling Rock reflects the ſtartling Blaze.
I ſtand aſtoniſh'd—thus the Hermit cries,
Fear not, but liſten with enlarg'd Surprize!
Still, muſt theſe Hours our mutual Converſe claim,
And ceaſe to echo ſtill Olympia's Name?
Grots, Riv'lets, Groves Olympia's Name forget,
Olympia now no ſighing Winds repeat.
Can I be mortal, and thoſe Hours no more,
Thoſe am'rous Hours, that plaintive Echo's bore?
[142] Am I the ſame? Ah no!—Behold a Mind,
Unruffl'd, firm, exalted, and refin'd!
Late Months, that made the vernal Seaſon gay,
Saw my Health languiſh off in pale Decay.
No racking Pain yet gave Diſeaſe a Date;
No ſad, preſageful Thought preluded Fate:
Yet number'd were my Days—My deſtin'd End
Near, and more near—Nay, ev'ry Fear ſuſpend!
I paſs'd a weary, ling'ring, ſleepleſs Night;
Then roſe, to walk in Morning's earlieſt Light:
But few my Steps—A faint, and chearleſs few!
Refreſhment from my flagging Spirits flew.
When, lo! retir'd beneath a Cypreſs Shade,
My Limbs upon a flow'ry Bank I laid.
Soon by ſoft-creeping, murm'ring Winds compos'd,
A Slumber preſs'd my languid Eyes—they clos'd:
[143] But clos'd not long,—methought Olympia ſpoke;
Thrice loud ſhe call'd, and thrice the Slumber broke.
I wak'd. Forth-gliding from a neighb'ring Wood,
Full in my View the ſhad'wy Charmer ſtood.
Rapt'rous I ſtarted up to claſp the Shade;
But ſtagger'd, fell, and found my Vitals fade.
A mantling Chilneſs o'er my Boſom ſpread,
As if that Inſtant number'd with the Dead.
Her Voice now ſent a far, imperfect Sound,
When in a ſwimming Trance my Pangs were drown'd.
Still farther off ſhe call'd—with ſoft Surprize,
I turn'd,—but void of Strength, and Aid to riſe;
Short, ſhorter, ſhorter yet, my Breath I drew:
Then up my ſtruggling Soul unburthen'd flew.
Thus from a State, where Sin, and Grief abide,
Heav'n ſummon'd me to Mercy—thus I died.

[144]He ſaid. Th' Aſtoniſhment, with which I ſtart,
Like bolted Ice runs ſhiv'ring thro' my Heart.
Art thou not mortal then? (I cried) But lo!
His Raiment lightens, and his Features glow!
In ſhady Ringlets falls a Length of Hair;
Embloom'd his Aſpect ſhines, enlarg'd his Air.
Mild from his Eyes enliv'ning Glories beam;
Mild on his Brow ſits Majeſty ſupreme.
Bright Plumes of ev'ry Die, that round him flow,
Veſt, Robe, and Wings in varied Luſtre ſhow.
He looks, and forward ſteps with Mien Divine;
A Grace celeſtial gives him all to ſhine.
He ſpeaks—Nature is raviſh'd at the Sound,
The Foreſts move, and Streams ſtand liſt'ning round!

[145]Thus He. As Incorruption I aſſum'd,
As inſtant in immortal Youth I bloom'd!
Renew'd, and chang'd, I felt my vital Springs,
With diff'rent Lights diſcern'd the Form of Things;
To Earth my Paſſions fell like Miſts away,
And Reaſon open'd in eternal Day.
Swifter than Thought from World to World I flew,
Celeſtial Knowledge ſhone in ev'ry View.
My Food was Truth—what Tranſport cou'd I miſs?
My Proſpect all Infinitude of Bliſs.
Olympia met me firſt, and, ſmiling Gay,
Onward to Mercy led the ſhining Way;
As far tranſcendant to her wonted Air,
As her dear, wonted ſelf to many a Fair!
In Voice, and Form, Beauty more beauteous ſhows,
And Harmony ſtill more harmonious grows.
[146] She points out Souls, who taught me Friendſhip's Charms,
They gaze, they glow, they ſpring into my Arms!
Well-pleas'd, high Anceſtors my View command;
Patrons, and Patriots all; a glorious Band!
Horatio too, by well-borne Fate refin'd,
Shone out white-rob'd with Saints, a ſpotleſs Mind!
What once, below, Ambition made him miſs,
Humility here gain'd, a Life of Bliſs!
Tho' late, let Sinners then from Sin depart!
Heav'n never yet deſpis'd the contrite Heart.
Laſt ſhone, with ſweet, exalted Luſtre grac'd,
The SERAPH-BARD, in higheſt Order plac'd!
Scers, Lovers, Legiſlators, Prelates, Kings,
All raptur'd liſten, as he raptur'd ſings.
Sweetneſs, and Strength his Look, and Lays em⯑ploy,
Greet Smiles with Smiles, and ev'ry Joy with Joy:
[147] Charmful he roſe; his ever-charmful Tongue
Joy to our ſecond Hymeneals ſung;
Still as we paſs'd, the bright, celeſtial Throng
Hail'd us in ſocial Love, and heav'nly Song.

Of that no more! my deathleſs Friendſhip ſee!
I come an Angel to the Muſe and Thee.
Theſe Lights, that vibrate, and promiſcuous ſhine,
Are Emanations all of Forms Divine,
And here the Muſe, tho' melted from thy Gaze,
Stands among Spirits, mingling Rays with Rays.
If thou would'ſt Peace attain, my Words attend,
The laſt, fond Words of thy departed Friend!
True Joy's a Seraph, that to Heav'n aſpires,
Unhurt it triumphs mid celeſtial Quires.
But ſhou'd no Cares a mortal State moleſt,
Life were a State of Ignorance at beſt.
[148] Know then, if Ills oblige thee to retire,
Thoſe Ills Solemnity of Thought inſpire.
Did not the Soul abroad for Objects roam,
Whence cou'd ſhe learn to call Ideas home?
Juſtly to know thy ſelf, peruſe Mankind!
To know thy God, paint Nature on thy Mind!
Without ſuch Science of the worldly Scene,
What is Retirement? empty Pride, or Spleen:
But with it Wiſdom. There ſhall Cares refine,
Render'd by Contemplation half-divine.
Truſt not the frantick, or myſterious Guide,
Nor ſtoop a Captive to the Schoolman's Pride.
On Nature's Wonders fix alone thy Zeal!
They dim not Reaſon, when they Truth reveal;
So ſhall Religion in thy Heart endure,
From all traditionary Falſhood pure;
[149] So Life make Death familiar to thy Eye;
So ſhalt thou live, as thou may'ſt learn to die;
And, tho' thou view'ſt thy worſt Oppreſſor thrive,
From tranſient Woe, immortal Bliſs derive.
Farewell—Nay ſtop the parting Tear!—I go!
But leave the Muſe thy Comforter below.
He ſaid. Inſtant his Pinions upward ſoar,
He leſs'ning as they riſe, till ſeen no more.

While Contemplation weigh'd the myſtic View,

The Lights all vaniſh'd, and the Viſion flew.

FINIS.

Appendix A ERRATUM.

Page 123, Line 14. for th' etherial, read the broad etherial.

Appendix B Lately Publiſhed,

[]

THE Hive. A Collection of the moſt celebrated SONGS. To which is pre⯑fix'd, A Criticiſm on Song-Writing, by Mr. PHILIPS. In three Volumes. The third Edition, with Alterations and Additions. Each Volume contains near 300 Songs. Price of each 2s. 6d.
From Words ſo ſweet new Grace the Notes receive,

And Muſick Borrows Helps, ſhe us'd to Give.

Tickell.
II. A Collection of [near 500] EPIGRAMS. To which is prefix'd, A Critical Diſſertation on that Species of Poetry. Price 2s. 6d.
III. Mr. PHILIPS's TRAGEDIES; viz. The Diſtreſt Mother; The Briton; Humfrey, Duke of Glouceſter. Price 3s.
IV.—FREE-THINKER. In three Volumes, Royal Paper. 2l. 5s.
V. EPISTLES, ODES, &c. written on ſeveral Subjects; with a Tranſlation of Longinus's Trea⯑tiſe on the Sublime. By Mr. WELSTED. To which is prefix'd, A Diſſertation concerning the Perfection of the Engliſh Language, the State of Poetry, &c. Price 4s.
N. B. The Poems and Diſſertation are printed in a ſmall Volume. Price 2s.
[] VI. Oikographia. A Poem to his Grace the Duke of DORSET. By Mr. WELLTED. Price 1s.
VII. A HYMN to the CREATOR. Written by a Gentleman, on the Occaſion of the Death of his only Daughter. Price 6d.
VIII. The EXCURSION. A Poem. To which is added, William and Margaret, a Ballad; now firſt publiſh'd from the Author's Copy. Price 1s.
IX. The TEMPLER's BILL of Complaint to the Right Hon. the Lord High Chancellor. Price 6d.
X. An EPISTLE to the Right Honourable Sir ROBERT WALPOLE. The Third Edit. Price 6d.
XI. The INSTALMENT. To the Right Hon. Sir ROBERT WALPOLE, Knt. of the moſt Noble Order of the Garter. By E. YOUNG, LL.D. Price 6d.
XII. An ODE to the QUEEN, on the happy Ac⯑ceſſion of their Majeſties to the Crown. Price 6d.
XIII. The LOVES of HERO and LEANDER, from the Greek of Muſaeus. By Mr. STERLING. To which are added, Some new Tranſlations from various Greek Authors, Anacreon, Sappho, Julian, Theocritus, Bion, Moſchus, and Homer. By ano⯑ther Hand. Price 1s.
XIV. T. Lucretius Carus of the Nature of Things. Tranſlated into Engliſh Verſe by Mr. CREECH. The Sixth Edition illuſtrated with Notes. Two Volumes 8vo. Price 10s.
XV. The LAWS of POETRY. Being a Cri⯑tical Commentary on the Duke of Buckingham's Eſſay on Poetry, and the Earl of Roſcommon's Eſſay on Tranſlated Verſe; with Notes on the Lord Lanſ⯑down's Poem on Unnatural Flights in Poetry. The Commentary written by Mr. GILDON, and re⯑vis'd by the Duke of Buckingham; the Notes by the Lord Lanſdown. Price 4s.
[] XVI. CATO MAJOR. A Poem. Upon the Model of Tully's Eſſay of Old Age. In Four Books. By SAMUEL CATHERALL, M. A. Fellow of Oriel-College in Oxford, and Prebendary of Wells. Price 2s. ‘—In Catone Majore (qui eſt ſcriptus de Senectute) Ca⯑tonem induxi Senem diſputantem, quia nulla videbatur aptior Perſona, quae de illa Aetate loqueretur, quam ejus, qui & diutiſſimae Senex fuiſſet & in ipſa Senectute prae caeteris floruiſſet. TULL. de Amic.’
XVII. CATO's LETTERS. To which is pre⯑fix'd, A large Preface containing an Anſwer to the moſt popular Objections to theſe Letters, and a Character of the late JOHN TRENCHARD, Eſq Four Volumes. Price 10s.
XVIII. Secreta Monita Societatis Jeſu: The Secret Inſtructions of the Jeſuits. In Latin and Engliſh. Price 2s. ‘Au defaut de la Force, il faut employer la Ruſe. Motto to Layer's Scheme.’
XIX. The late Archbiſhop of Cambray's Dia⯑logues concerning ELOQUENCE: With his Let⯑ter to the French Academy, concerning Rheto⯑rick, Poetry, Hiſtory, and a Compariſon betwixt the Antients and Moderns. Tranſlated from the French, and illuſtrated with Notes and Quotati⯑ons, by W. STEVENSON, M. A. Price 4s. 6d.
XX. The Adventures of Telemachus, written by the late Archbiſhop of Cambray: Done into Eng⯑liſh by Mr. LITTLEBURY, &c. The Eleventh Edition, adorn'd with Cuts; and to which is now added, An Alphabetical Index to each Volume. Price 6s.

All Printed for J. WALTHOE.

Notes

Author of a Poem, call'd, The Excurſion.

Mrs. Oldfield.

Distributed by the University of Oxford under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License

Citation Suggestion for this Object: TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 5202 The wanderer a poem In five canto s By Richard Savage. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-5C91-9

To the Right Honourable JOHN, Lord Viſcount Tyrconnel, Baron Charleville, and Lord Brownlowe: Knight of the Bath.

[] THE WANDERER. A VISION. In Five CANTOS.

CANTO I.

THE WANDERER. A VISION.CANTO II.

THE WANDERER. A VISION.CANTO III.

THE WANDERER. A VISION.CANTO IV.

THE WANDERER. A VISION.CANTO V.