[][]
POEMS TO THESPIA.
Oh, true Name of Love,
Tender Affection! Genuine Source of bliſs,
Immaculate and pure! The tranſient blaze
Of paſſion ſoon ſubſides; thy ſteadier fire
Time but increaſes. Soft, coercive Band
Connecting Souls! without thee what is Life!
Sweet Halcyon of the breaſt, whoſe ſummer wing
Lulls each tempeſtuous care! To thee the Wiſe,
The Good ſtill ſacrifice, the Soul refined
From vulgar droſs: Nor any but the Dull
Whom Nature niggard of her bounty, caſt
In narrow mould, or whom with iron hand
Tyrannic Cuſtom rules, deſpiſe thy ſway.
EXETER: PRINTED BY W. GRIGG, BOOKSELLER, IN THE Fore-Street. 1781.
[]
SCorning with ſtudied art to drag along
The doubled epithet of monſtrous length,
Join in the jingling of th' affected ſong,
Court feeble melody, and baniſh ſtrength.
No labour'd, no fictitious ſtrains I bring,
But unreſerved pour forth my honeſt heart;
Nature and true Affection bade me ſing,
I felt the wound of no pretended dart.
Oh! may my pen fall from my palſied hand,
When I ſurvive to real taſte a Peſt!
Or place in nice array with Orders' wand
The haſty ebullitions of my breaſt!
My theme is choſen 'mid the Britiſh Fair,
No antique Bards for love-thoughts I explore,
[] No fabled Gods from Greece and Rome I bear,
No Nymphs, or Dryads from the Claſſic ſhore.
Such ornaments may pleaſe the ſhallow mind,
Exotic gewgaws twiſted into rhime;
But Elegance delights in chaplet twined
By Nature's hand, and inmates of the Clime.
Nor here hath Love disdain'd his gifts to ſhed,
The feeling Soul is not unfrequent here;
And genuine Rapture by the Graces led,
Oft tunes the lyre, and thrills the liſtening ear.
ERRATA.
Page 4, Line 5, for chaplet, read chaplets.—P. 16, L. 16, for my, read may.—P. 18, L. 5, dele the comma after death.—P. 22, L. 2, Inſert a comma after zeal.—P. 23, L. 14, d. s. in errors.—P. 24, L. 3, d. the Period after thought.—P. 25, L. 14, for ſhine, r. thine.—P. 36, L. 3, for the, r. th'.—P. 37, L. 9, d. the com⯑ma after Obſcure.—P. 38, L. 14, for Fo. ever r. For ever.—P. 48, L. 1, for turned, r. turn'd.—P. 49, L. 1, add a comma after adorn'd.—P. 53, L. 12, for by r. my.—P. 55, L. 5, for curſed, inſert dark.—d. the comma after ſome.—P. 61, L. 4, d. the comma after again; and it after Forbid.—P. 73, in the Note, after firſt, add, and ſe⯑cond.—P. 75, L. 9, for Neighbours, r. Neighbour.—P. 88, L. 4, for the, r. th'—P. 92, L. 9, d. the comma after friendly.—P. 107, L. 9, for the, r, th'.
POEMS TO THESPIA.
[]I.
HOW ſweet, in Spring, the twilight Dawn!
The woods imbrown'd, and humid lawn;
The crimſon ſtreaks which deck the ſky,
The wide-ſtretch'd plain, and mountain high!
But when the Sun unveils his face,
The Landſcape glows with heighten'd grace.
Should raging Tempeſts Heaven deform,
If, final Victor, of the Storm,
The ſame illuſtrious Lord of day
Full blazes with triumphant ray,
All Nature owns his influence bright,
And bends before the glorious light.
[6]
Nurſed by his warmth, the latent grain
With future harveſts gilds the plain.
His power pervades the deeper Mine,
And moulds the Embryo Gem to ſhine.
See Youth, exulting in his May!
What new-born joys before Him play!
His ſprightly feet expatiate round,
And all He ſees is Fairy ground.
When Love unfolds his pinions nigh,
And wafts his Soul to extaſy.
Say, that Adverſity ſhould bring
Her livid plagues, her Scorpion ſting?
And the collected venom dart
Remorſeleſs, on the Human heart?
Love ſoothes to reſt it's fierceſt pain,
And gives it vital ſtrength again.
Each ſofter energy refined
He kindles in the darken'd Mind;
And from their hidden ſeat calls forth
The zealous deeds of generous Worth.
[7]
Thou pure Enlightener of the breaſt,
Oh! ſhine thro' all my life confeſt!
Nor ceaſe thy gentler warmth to ſhed
In lateſt Evening on my head!
There let thy beams ſtill ling'ring fall,
Till Fate's black gloom incloſes All!
II.
THE trueſt Love is moſt reſerved and ſhy,
No look of confidence, or boldneſs wears,
Known by the humble brow, and ſoften'd eye,
And full of wavering doubts, and anxious fears.
When I perceived that THESPIA had o'ercome
My yielding heart, and fix'd her empire there,
That from her voice I muſt receive my doom,
And all my future weal muſt flow from her:
How did my boſom fluctuate with the pain
Of native baſhfulneſs, and ſtrong deſire!
[8] What varying conflicts did I not ſuſtain!
How ſtruggled ſoft reſpect, with paſſion's fire!
Oft did I wiſh the ſecret to have told,
But awe witheld, and modeſt dread prevail'd,
Her preſence all my faculties controul'd,
And every ſettled reſolution fail'd.
At length, with firm intent I ſought the Fair,
With firm intent to pour out all my heart,
At once diſplay the ſtory of my care,
And the long miſery of conſuming ſmart.
To a ſequeſter'd grove her ſteps I drew,
She without guile went innocently free;
No ill ſuſpecting, for no ill ſhe knew,
Nor fear'd to truſt herſelf alone with me.
At firſt my uſual converſe I aſſay'd,
Hoping from thence to gain a tranquil air;
[9] And as along the winding paths We ſtray'd,
With frequent bloſſoms deck'd her flowing hair.
But ſtill my ſhorten'd breath faſt went and came,
O'er my embarraſs'd limbs a ſtiffneſs hung,
My heart throbb'd ſtrong, and ſhook my la⯑bouring frame,
And fears, I know not how, unnerved my tongue.
Reſolved to ſpeak, ſome ſecret power re⯑ſtrain'd,
Aſhamed, and angry with myſelf I grew,
With crimſon conſciouſneſs my cheeks were ſtain'd,
And quick again the conſcious ſtains withdrew.
She, whether unobſervant all the while,
Or elſe this ſtrange confuſion to relieve,
Talks with her wonted eaſe, and careleſs ſmile,
But brief and vague each anſwer which I give.
[10]
Then changed my fickle will it's firſt deſign,
Determined ſudden on ſome future day,
Then would I each perplexity untwine,
And every ardent wiſh before her lay.
A tranſient calm ſucceeded in my breaſt,
Yet ſure, thought I, they were not ſo conceal'd,
But ſhe th' emotions of my heart hath gueſs'd,
She too may haply wiſh they were reveal'd.
Tho' now my faultering tongue its aid denies,
She muſt have read the language of my ſoul,
Nor have I mark'd diſpleaſure in her eyes,
When forth from mine the glance of love hath ſtole.
Then turning round in haſte, as if afraid
Leſt Diffidence again might intervene;
Not daring to erect my timid head,
My heſitating lips diſcloſed my pain.
[11]III.
IN nothing was I learn'd, but only how
To pen my flocks, and drive them to the field,
In the ſtrait furrow to direct my plough,
And when my hoe, and pruning-hook to wield.
Uncultivated was my mind, and mean,
My abject thoughts low faſten'd to the earth,
Till Love with hand benign brake Cuſtom's chain,
And bade me ſoar beyond my humble birth.
With beauty fired, I look'd around, and ſaw
The charms of nature never ſeen before.
O Love! a willing Vaſſal to thy law
I bend, I feel thy bleſſings, and adore.
Prompted by thee, as yet with trembling tongue,
I call'd the Muſes, and deſired their aid;
My wood-notes in the hazel copſe I ſung,
And caught th' attention of the liſtening Maid.
[12]
She liſten'd to my ſtrains, She heard my tale,
While deepening bluſhes o'er her cheeks ariſe,
The ſoft conſenting ſigh my lips inhale,
I ſee the yielding languor of her eyes.
No, witneſs Truth! if ever I eſtrange
This grateful heart, which only beats for thee—
Why utter needleſs vows? I cannot change;
Fix'd are my bonds, nor will I e'er be free.
Fix'd is thy gentle ſway; by thee my Mind
Avarice, and all its ſordid acts diſdains;
The common vice of Paſſion unrefined,
The common vice among our country Swains.
Hence ſtinging cares; hence groveling they behold
The ſtate of riches with an envious eye;
They think not aught beyond the power of gold,
Nor know how Love can lift the ſoul on high.
[13]
Oh, come my Fair One! I have thatch'd above,
And whiten'd all around my little cot,
Shorn are the hedges leading to the grove,
Nor is the ſeat, and willow bower forgot.
Low is the path of life in which I move,
Yet wilt thou not regret the higher ſphere
Of wealth and noiſy pride; while faithful Love,
And Innocence, and ſweet Content are here.
IV.
AH! whence my Theſpia, can that anguiſh flow?
That ſilent anguiſh of expreſſive woe?
That ſigh which from thy ſtruggling boſom ſtole?
That look which pierces to my inmoſt ſoul?
Ah! ſay my Theſpia, I conjure thee ſay,
To me the hidden cauſe unblamed diſplay.
Half of thyſelf, I claim my lawful ſhare;
Yet, would to Heaven, that I the whole might bear!
[14] Unveil thy thoughts in confidence to me;
And truſt a boſom fraught with ſympathy.
From thee would I my labouring heart confine?
And are not all its deepeſt ſecrets thine?
Wretch that I am! am I (who thee from pain,
To ſhield, would pour out life at every vein)
Am I the cauſe? and could'ſt Thou ever ſpy
A look of coldneſs glancing from my eye?
To thee a cold, blank look? Oh, too refined,
And ſubtile error of thy feeling mind!
A delicacy apt too deep to dive,
To each nice touch too tenderly alive!
Tho' I eſteem it as a bleſſing ſent,
As the more poliſh'd Minds' chief ornament,
A ſacred ſpark kindled by Heaven's own ray,
Yet, let not Senſibility betray.
Thou weep'ſt; where did my tongue pro⯑fanely rove?
How could I blame thee? 'twas exceſs of love.
[15] Oh! let me circle thee with ſtrict embrace,
Warm breaſt to breaſt, and glowing face to face!
(My fixed lips while ſpeechleſs rapture ties)
Imbibe the lucid moiſture of thine eyes.
Thy melting ſpirit in each breath inhale!
Gaze on thee till the nerves of viſion fail!
And quite o'er-power'd by Love's imperious ſway,
Feel all my fainting ſoul diſſolve away!
V.
STILL blooming Health, thy modeſt graces ſhed
O'er the clear ſurface of my Theſpia's cheek!
There let thy freſh, thy glowing tints be ſpread,
Thy ſmiles enlightening, and complacence meek!
Protect her where ſhe goes, ye gentle Powers,
Pure Denizons of undulating air!
[16] Whether from fervid Noon-tide's ſultry hours,
Or Evening's dewy ſhades, protect the Fair!
'Tis true my Theſpia; I indeed confeſs
That ſelfiſh are the prayers and vows I pay;
With no diſintereſted voice I bleſs
The Gods, or pour the ſupplicating lay.
For ah! from thee, and from thy looks I find
Warm to my heart each cordial joy muſt flow
Sweetening the ills of life; from thee my mind
Muſt taſte it's keeneſt ſenſe of piercing woe.
Thine is the maſter-key, each ſpring to rule,
Each hidden movement of my ſecret thought;
Sure thou wert bred in ſome Enchanter's ſchool,
Who all his ſpells and myſtic charms hath taught.
Yet then would Holy Truth with thee reſide?
Truth which unbounded confidence my truſt?
Yet then would mean Deceit fly far aſide?
And wild Caprice confounding falſe and juſt?
[17]
Would'ſt Thou have ſaid, as I, ſtruck dumb with fear,
Tremblingly pointed out my humble bower,
Haply Tranquility and Peace are there,
For them I ſcorn the gaudy farce of Power?
O Thou Sincereſt! how ſhall I repay
The endleſs debt of gratitude I owe?
Quickly my Fair point out to Me the way,
And ſhew the path, for Thou alone canſt ſhew.
Tho' ſilent is thy tongue, thy ſpeaking eye,
The modeſt bluſhes o'er thy cheeks which rove,
That deep-drawn breath, that panting breaſt, reply,
The ſole return is tenderneſs and love.
Will this ſuffice? and doſt Thou aſk no more?
What the ſpontaneous feelings needs muſt give?
Oh! let Me laviſh on thee all my ſtore!
Nor ceaſe to love thee, till I ceaſe to live!
[18]
For ever rivetted within my heart
Thy dear unſullied image ſhall remain;
When from that ſeat I bid it to depart,
May I by ſome tremendous ſtroke be ſlain!
No common death, I ſhall deſerve to die;
To pine by inches on a barren ſtrand,
Scorch'd by the vengeful Sun's ſevereſt eye,
Nor by one ſportive wandering Zephyr fann'd.
To freeze on ſome bleak rock; to glut the rage
Of howling beaſts within the dreary waſte;
Or live, in youth deſpiſed, in helpleſs age
The extremities of want and woe to taſte.
To walk a moving plague among Mankind,
Shunn'd, hated, and refuſed the alms I crave;
Refuſed Deſpair's laſt, only wiſh; to find
A ſtill retirement in the peaceful grave.
[19]
In that fond hope to be deceived; to hear
With ſoul yet conſcious, in the church-yard way,
The fierce invective caſt upon my bier,
And ſcornful Laughter dancing o'er my clay.
All this, and more I ſhall deſerve to prove,
When led by changeful Fancy's wanton eye,
I turn a faithleſs Truant to thy love,
And on the wings of vagrant Falſhood fly.
VI.
SHALL the fair Form of ſmiling Love no more
Sport o'er the lawn with Freedom by his ſide?
Diffuſing bleſſings from his ample ſtore,
On the fond Bridegroom and the happy Bride?
Who led by choice and inclination's fire,
Breathing delicious ſympathy of ſoul,
[20] To the thick, ſhady, nuptial bower retire,
Attempering rapture warm with chaſte controul?
For ſuch of yore, to grace their marriage day,
The flocks exulting danced with nimbler tread,
The tribes aerial tuned their ſofteſt lay,
And earth's green lap with freſher flowers was ſpread.
Then were the laws of Avarice held in ſcorn,
Now unoppoſed and abſolute her reign,
If haply Two with nobler ſouls are born,
The gloomy clouds of malice intervene.
O Error fond! to think that wealth beſtows
Our only bliſs! Say bluſhing Grandeur, ſay,
Whether thy breaſt that heart-felt pleaſure knows,
Which gilds the ſhade of life's ſequeſter'd way?
Say, in the morning doſt Thou cheerlier riſe?
Or were thy ſlumbers ſweeter in the night?
[21] Doth Nature's noon-tide luſtre ſtrike thine eyes,
Or evening's milder beam with more delight?
Art thou not tortured with deſire of fame?
Smarts not thy ſoul with Envy's ſecret goad?
And do not conſcious honour, generous ſhame,
And tender Love fly thy unbleſt abode?
Ye pureſt Virtues! whereſoe'er I rove,
(And Thou, laſt-named, moſt valued of the three,
Whom language fails to praiſe, Celeſtial Love!)
Ne'er ſhall your laws be unobſerved by me.
And wilt not Thou my Theſpia own their power?
Shall not their guardian care on thee attend?
And teach thee in reflection's ſilent hour,
To caſt a thought upon thy more than Friend?
[22]
On Him, whoſe heart with trueſt ardour beats?
Whoſe zeal nor time, nor abſence ſhall aſſuage?
Blooming unſullied by youth's ſcorching heats,
And undecaying in the froſt of age?
Laſting as life? For not the vagrant beams,
Of wanton Fancy raiſed a ſudden fire,
No ſpark of paſſion, whoſe extatic dreams,
Vivid and gay, in quick diſguſt expire.
Not that with cool and philoſophic eye,
Not that with unenraptured mind, I view
Beauty's alluring grace, her vermeil die,
Her winning ſmiles, and love-inſpiring hue.
But bearing Friendſhip's unſuſpected ſeal,
Into thy preſence frequently I ſtole,
Young artleſs Innocence removed the veil,
And ſhew'd in all it's charms thy ſpotleſs ſoul.
I gazed Enamour'd: every Virtue bright
In that pure temple, each Ethereal Form
[23] Stood viſible before my mental ſight,
And my breaſt throbb'd, with holy tranſport warm.
Can I the ſhrine forſake, while conſtant Truth,
While filial Piety's engaging deed,
Good-nature, lovelieſt crown of ſmiling youth,
And Pity meek, forbid Me to recede?
What feelings then can tempt Me to betray
The rights of Love? what intereſt not my own?
For Thou to Me art Fortune's proſperous ray,
From thee exiled, how dreadful is her frown!
The Mind which claims our paſſions to con⯑troul,
Why is it not all-knowing, and all-wiſe?
To pierce the deep receſſes of the ſoul,
And ſee the bounds where ſenſe and errors lies?
[24]
Then would not Beauty e'er be ſold and bought,
From thy embrace I ſhould not then be torn,
Condemn'd ſhould'ſt Thou—(but Treaſon's in that thought.)
To curſe the fatal hour when I was born.
No, far be pale Suſpicion! I deteſt
The haggard Fiend. Huſh'd then be every fear!
My hopes I treaſure up within thy breaſt,
And Oh! I charge thee keep them ſacred there.
VII.
YES, far my Gentle Maid, from thee,
And every haunt of Joy I ſtray,
Shall not thy wiſhes go with me,
To cheer my faint and lonely way?
Shall not within thy faithful breaſt
Remembrance it's ſweet bloſſoms bear?
[25] Shall not it's plant by thee careſt,
Take root, and bloom unfaded there?
Wilt Thou not often ſteal unſeen,
Through dewy field, and trackleſs plain?
Or utter to the copſes green
Thy ſoft and melancholy ſtrain?
Tho' Fate hath torn the bond of Love,
Wilt Thou not often caſt thine eye
To where expell'd and ſad I rove,
And breathe a tender pitying ſigh?
Be witneſs conſcious Heaven! my ſoul
Shall ne'er a thought of thee reſign,
No power it's fervour can controul,
Unchanged, and ſtamp'd for ever ſhine.
Yet tho' by mutual Faith aſſured,
What racking torment thus to part!
What bleeding woe muſt be endured!
What anguiſh muſt diſtract the heart!
[26]VIII.
WAS it a dignity of ſhape, an eye
Or face, inſtinct with beauty's dazzling ray,
Whoſe power at once bade vanquiſh'd reaſon fly,
And ſwiftly ſtole Me from Myſelf away?
Had that been all, tho' ſtrong had been my grief
Not to have won the object of my care,
Time would with lenient hand have brought relief,
The cure, Another equally as Fair.
But tho' a thouſand now I ſhould behold,
And own them fairer than the Maid I love,
My heart to all their beauties would be cold,
No charms my former paſſion could remove.
For youthful Prepoſſeſſion knit the tye,
Which our conſenting hearts together drew;
[27] With years the pleaſing partiality,
And ſoft attractive impulſe, firmer grew.
Fancy meantime unnumber'd viſions ſpread,
In which no ſeas were rough, no tempeſts lour'd,
We ſaw, our hopes with extaſy We fed,
And in each other's boſom fondly pour'd.
And can I with theſe loved ideas part?
Can I this dear, dear ſympathy forego?
Firſt from their place the ſtrings of life ſhall ſtart,
And the warm ruddy drops forget to flow.
Of thee bereft!—Oh! 'twere the worſt of ills.—
Deep penetrates the thought with ſore annoy
My ſhuddering heart; my inmoſt ſoul it chills;
And blaſts each future ſcene of riſing joy.
Of thee bereft!—It ſhall not, cannot be;—
Spite of the wayward accidents of life,
Yet once again our actions ſhall be free:
And Oh, my Love! O dearer name, my Wife!
[28]
Again ſhall I infold thee in my arms,
And breathe my ſoul into thy faithful breaſt,
The o'erpaſt evil with freſh tranſport warms,
The pangs of abſence make Us doubly bleſt.
IX.
I Was not form'd for glory's arduous ways,
The hidden depths of ſcience to explain,
To cloathe me in ambition's golden rays,
Or combat death, and tread the carnaged plain.
In the broad open face of public life
To ſome Heaven gives conſpicuouſly to move,
Enamour'd of the ſcenes of noiſe and ſtrife,
To Me a mind all indolence and love.
Unhappineſs and care to Kings I give,
Expoſed they ſtand to every ſtormy gale;
On yonder hill's green ſide ſecure I live,
Or walk with vacant ſtep along the dale.
[29]
Enough for Me, to meet my Theſpia there,
Arm lock'd in arm along the wood to roam;
Loſt but to Love, to ſtray we know not where,
And wonder how we got ſo far from home.
For her the hedge-flower garland to intwine,
At her command invoke the artleſs Muſe,
Preſs cloſe her chaſte, her glowing cheek to mine,
Or on her breaſt, all my whole ſoul effuſe.
My thoughts to more extatic pleaſures riſe;
Here, ſacred Wedlock, bring thy cloſeſt veil!
And from the buſy ken of prying eyes
Thy holy rites and myſteries conceal.
Such were the ſtrains, which in the jocund prime
Of life, when Fancy takes delight to dream,
I ſung, nor ſpent a thought on future time,
Where rural Alphin winds his ſcanty ſtream.
[30]
I ſung, each object ſtruck Me with delight,
The edying rivulet, the new-ſhorn flock,
The meads with flowers of various hue be⯑dight,
The verdant hillock, and the barren rock.
Yet, tho'by kindeſt Nature form'd, to ſtray
The ſweet oblivious path of life along,
Fate's tyrant voice, and unrelenting ſway
Impells the Novice mid the buſtling throng.
I go; yet once more let me caſt my eyes
On you, ye well-known ſcenes, a parting view;
Tho' I with fondeſt eſtimation prize
Your long-frequented haunts; for aye adieu!
But, Oh my Theſpia!—there th' imperfect ſound
Hangs unpronounced upon my trembling tongue,
[31] Cold damps of dewy ſweat my brow ſurround
And every nerve and ſinew is unſtrung.
Once more receive Me to thy panting breaſt;
Would I could rivet Me forever there!
Such agonies no language e'er expreſs'd;
Death cannot bring a torture ſo ſevere.
X.
WHAT have I done, what crime in me is found,
What ſecret evil lurking in my breaſt,
That while all Nature elſe is ſmiling round,
Heaven hath on Me it's heavieſt ſtroke impreſs'd?
Have I e'er dropp'd a wiſh of Other's harm?
Or done an ill, tho' ne'er to be reveal'd?
Have I not always breathed th' emotion warm
On the chaſte lip of ſocial Virtue ſeal'd?
Ah! is it not enough, that far away
From my own native, happy fields I rove,
[32] Far from each friendly name condemn'd to ſtray,
And torn by cruel force from her I love?
But muſt thro' her the barbed ſteel be ſent,
Which piercing, with ſevereſt torture wounds?
Shall She I love convey the puniſhment,
Which Juſtice muſt confeſs exceeds its bounds?
On Me rain all your woes, Ye righteous Powers!
Tho' hard, I'll ſtrive the miſery to bear,
View ſickneſs ſteal away my lingering hours
On tainted wing, nor drop a pining tear.
But ah! the gentle Virgin's tender Frame—
O Bright-hair'd Chaſtity! O Angel Truth!
If ye are aught beyond an empty name,
Save, ſave in pity Innocence and youth!
Shield, ſhield Me from the racking thought! I ſpy
From her cold cheek the bland ſuffuſion fled,
[33] Dead is the piercing magic of her eye,
The luſtre-darting beam of ſenſe is dead.
She calls on me—Oh! ſnatch the laſt em⯑brace!
Woods, rivers, mountains, countries intervene.
Oh curſe of curſes! ne'er that lovely face
Again ſhall I behold: e'en the laſt ſcene
Some dreary ſatisfaction might afford,
Some ſolace to the madneſs of Deſpair,
Gloating in ſecret on his gloomy hoard,
With eye intorted viewing what is there.
XI.
AH! can they be of gentle Woman born,
Are they not rather caſt in iron mould,
Who love, as if it were a weakneſs, ſcorn,
And place their ſum of happineſs in gold?
[34]
Who nothing of that ſweet alliance know,
That tender union of connected hearts,
Whence only tranſports unalloy'd can flow,
Tranſports which brave affliction's venom'd darts?
O genuine Offspring of the native ſoul,
As yet unfaſhion'd by the hand of Vice!
Ye thoughts, which point the way to Honour's goal!
Ye thoughts, whence every Virtue takes its riſe!
Ye warm Inſpirers of the breaſt of Youth!
Ye Handmaids which compoſe the ſmiling train
Of Innocence, and unſuſpecting Truth!
Say, were ye form'd ſo wond'rous fair in vain?
Did Nature plant you in the human Mind,
That Tyrant Art might thence her work diſ⯑place?
[35] That your free limbs might be in chains confined?
That harden'd Intereſt might your charms deface?
Ah no! far otherwiſe her equal law,
And kind maternal tenderneſs decreed;
She will'd her infant ſcyons there to grow,
To bloom, and ripen into golden ſeed.
Hence gave She all that more than Eloquence
Which ſpeaks in Virgin Beauty's baſhful eye;
Hence left the ſoul of Youth without defence,
Glowing with warm ſuſceptibility.
Hence panting wiſhes, undiſſembled fears
Her ardent Votaries felt; hence fancy wild,
And love ſincere and vows unfeign'd were theirs,
And Awe ſhrunk back, and Hope the Cherub ſmiled.
[36]
O Theſpia! We theſe ardent Votaries were;
Have I not fix'd my fainting ſight on thee,
Till trickling down my cheek, the emphatic tear
Hath in mute language told my extaſy?
While from thy conſcious, but more timid eye
The downcaſt rays thy ſecret flame confeſs'd,
While the quick-varying bluſh, and ſtruggling ſigh,
Diſcloſed the pure emotions of thy breaſt?
How roves the Vagrant Mind to future days!
How credulous is Love! with magic wand
What viſions cannot ſoothing error raiſe!
How thick around the ſelf-deluſions ſtand!
Duped by their flattery; Nature's juſt deſign
We ſaw with Us to it's perfection brought,
Saw each acceding year more firmly twine
The mental wreathe, our younger Fancies wrought.
[37]
They painted to our view the lowly Cot,
Where Neatneſs bland, with meek Contentment play'd,
Look'd up to Heaven, and bleſs'd their tranquil lot,
Nor envied Guilt in glaring pride array'd.
With treacherous ſmile the farm retired they ſhew'd,
It's verdant meads, it's fields, and ſylvan bowers,
The grazing lambs, the waving corn, the wood
Of tufted elm, and garden deck'd with flowers.
Obſcure, the ſcenes their pleaſing pencil drew;
Obſcure, but bleſt with unaffected joy.
We hated mad Ambition's noiſy crew,
Convinced that love with reaſon could not cloy.
Our rural Neighbours to the friendly feaſt
We bid, their ſimple hearts intent to gain:
[38] Where Pride inſpires not the faſtidious breaſt,
Envy will ſeek to wound it's peace in vain.
Falſe! tho' enchanting proſpects! yet no fault,
No crime of our's hath rendered them Untrue.
But hide the cauſe!—Check every murmuring thought!—
To Virtue this ſad ſacrifice is due.
Yet, let me curſe ſtern Avarice, odious Fiend;
Let Me lament th' unhappieſt of their kind,
All other paſſions dead, compell'd to bend
Beneath this laſt ſlow fever of the Mind.
Rather than feel this dire diſtemper's ſway,
Than with this thirſt be ſcorch'd in life's decline,
May I ne'er ſee again the cheerful day,
Fo. ever doom'd to labour in the Mine!
[39]
May every terror fate reſerves in ſtore
For wretched Man, aſſault this drooping head!
May Want, may Famine enter at my door!
May Pain, and reſtleſs care ſurround my bed!
Or ſhould My Theſpia, all our trials paſt,
Should We before the ſacred altar ſtand,
May Heaven, in mercy, with the lightning's blaſt
Strike Me at once, and tear the deſtined band!
XII.
WHY was I born in this more poliſh'd clime
Amid the ſcenes of artificial Life?
Where Cuſtom rules, long-ſanctified by Time,
And Faſhion holds with Nature endleſs ſtrife?
A thouſand Wants ſtart up, a thouſand Fears,
To ſhackle Love, or interrupt his courſe;
[40] He ſtruggles, yet the galling burthen bears,
Sighs with regret, but owns their Sovereign force.
Eager to follow where th' Emotions lead,
Hides every wiſh, by violence ſuppreſt;
Gazes with ardour on the blooming Maid,
But dreads the future anguiſh of her breaſt.
Our liberty We boaſt on Britain's ſhore,
Yet, Slaves to Gold, it's tyrant power obey;
Our Vices ſpring from it's creative ore,
And e'en our Virtues feel it's quickening ray.
Perils and crimes We ſcruple not to dare,
Or act the meaneſt part, intent on gold:
Yet, may the ſoul refuſed it's gifts to ſhare,
With conſcious pride, ſublimer traits unfold.
Hence generous Youth with riches unen⯑dow'd,
The Miſtreſs of his boſom ſcorns to gain;
[41] Grief may advance, Affliction threaten loud,
Firm He ſupports th' accumulated pain.
Happy the free-born Hunters of the wild!
Their only art, how beſt to urge the chace;
No thoughts of wealth their paſſions e'er beguiled,
No rank they claim, for equal is the Race.
They ſuffer not the torments of deſire,
They are not doom'd to pour the fruitleſs tear,
To combat with the ſtrong, the tender fire,
And pine from month to month, from year to year.
Happy the Natives of more ſouthern ſkies!
With ſofter manners, ſofter forms endued;
Where all around ſpontaneous harveſts riſe,
Where from each tree depends ambroſial food.
Of cruel bonds they utter no complaint;
The gentle Virgin hears his amorous tale,
[42] Smiles on her favour'd Youth without reſtraint,
And crowns his wiſhes in the ſpicy vale.
Juſt are thy words my Theſpia.—what de⯑light
Could paſſive, brutal Ignorance impart?
Diſguſt at once would riſe before my ſight;
My heart would loathe th' unſympathiſing heart.
Nor could I, to the joys of ſenſe reſign'd,
The ſportive Wanton to my boſom preſs;
Forget the pure deſire, the will refined,
Th' exalted ſentiment, and chaſte careſs.
A ſingle glance from Virtue's melting eye,
The ſoul with more extatic pleaſure warms;
A bluſh of Innocence, one pitying ſigh,
Tranſcends all Luxury's proſtituted charms.
Still let us cheriſh hope, whate'er befalls!
And ſee, where Reaſon, Wiſdom, take their ſtand!
[43] Drive the fierce paſſions from their hallow'd walls,
And lead Cherubic Patience by the hand!
Say, that entangled in the ſocial chain,
Wants, fears, and griefs intrude, a numerous crew?
Tho' more dilated flows the ſtream of pain,
The ſource of pleaſure is augmented too.
Juſt are thy words.—But when the preſent Ill
Afflicts, this curious web We idly twine;
Nature and Paſſion are victorious ſtill,
O'erwhelm'd is my philoſophy, and thine.
XIII.
DEAR, Anxious Maid! whoſe apprehenſive love
Hath form'd of tender fears a numerous train;
[44] Theſe looks of fond ſolicitude remove!
Fled is the gloomy progeny of Pain.
Fled is each ſullen image from my mind,
O'er its corporeal yoke-mate brooding dull;
The thoughts of thee alone are left behind,
Of thee in every part, my ſoul is full.
Warm to my breaſt the vital ſpirits flow,
Kindle anew each ſtrong affection there,
The mutual ardour, correſponding glow,
And grateful tumult which I ſcarce can bear.
Such as I feel, when from thy ſpeaking eye
Dart unreſtrain'd the beams of melting love,
While meek Sincerity ſtands ſmiling by,
And Innocence diſplays her wings above.
Such as I feel, when to Myſelf I vow
The ſacred truſt inviolably ſure;
Guarded by ſteady Faith, which ſcorns to bow,
Whoſe ties the pureſt energies ſecure.
[45]
Reſerve, and diſtant coyneſs, tutor'd arts,
Let theſe be goads to vitiated deſire!
Nature's true colours charm untainted hearts,
Love begets love, creates, and feeds the fire.
Ambition's Sons, who climb her airy way!
What feelings can you boaſt compared with mine!
On you Content ne'er ſhed her tranquil ray,
Tho' in th' external glare of pomp You ſhine.
This eve, more real joy my breaſt inſpired,
Than you can in a thouſand ages know;
Joy which reflection can behold untired,
Amid whoſe blooms, no thorns of anguiſh grow.
Thou too reflect unblamed, my darling Fair,
And pleaſure in thy generous heart be found!
Thy confidence, meets confidence ſincere,
Thy truth, with undiſſembled truth is crown'd.
[46]
This night may Sleep unfold his gentleſt wing!
The ſofteſt plume upon thy eye-lids lay!
Delightful be thy dreams as laughing Spring!
Enchanting as the firſt-born gales of May!
Ye level Meads, ye winding Streams be ſeen!
Your fringed ſides with bending oſiers graced!
Let Us exulting tread your margin green!
Mix the warm ſigh, embrace, and be embraced!
Impart the ſecret dictates of our ſoul!
The wiſh, the paſſion, unreſerved and free!
Conſcious that equal choice can ne'er controul,
That perfect love, is perfect liberty.
XIV.
IT is not ſtrange, that in my Theſpia's eye
Amaze and anger ſhould appear, when told
That gentle Doris had, without a ſigh,
Reſign'd her charms to Age, for worthleſs gold.
[47]
In all her features Delicacy reign'd;
What bright, tranſparent tints her cheeks o'er⯑ſpread!
The ſnow beneath (as it that veil diſdain'd)
With ſofteſt ſwell ſeem'd vanquiſhing the red.
Mild were her glances as the ray of Eve,
When the Lark ſits and meditates his flight;
Her voice might Anguiſh of it's ſting bereave,
Or ſmoothe, like Philomel, the frowns of Night.
Her ſentiments proclaim'd a ſpotleſs heart,
Where dwelt the niceſt ſenſe of praiſe and ſhame;
Nature's Diſciple, undiſguiſed by Art,
She ſeem'd as born for Love's and Friendſhip's flame.
No wonder Thou, My Theſpia, ſhould'ſt the tale
Aſtoniſht hear: more ſkill'd in Human-kind,
[48] Verſed in their failings, I myſelf turned pale,
Such youth, ſuch beauty, ſuch deceit to find.
Thou ſee'ſt how Avarice may her ſerpent face
Amid the flowers of female ſweetneſs hide;
How thinking We behold each female grace,
We view the complicated maſk of pride.
Hapleſs! who thus around Love's ſoaring wing
Can bind the glittering, ignominious chain;
Stop Nature's current, taint her limpid ſpring,
And proſtitute, thro' choice, their ſouls for gain!
On theſe, Who boaſt a Woman's form alone,
Let not my Theſpia waſte a ſingle thought!
Her's be the robe of Honour, Virtue's zone,
And fame, and generous love, and charms unbought!
[49]
Should Youth the moſt adorn'd with wealth combine,
My ſoul at eaſe, would not a Rival dread;
For conſtancy hath fix'd with roſy twine
The never-fading chaplet on her head.
Should Fate a decent competence ſupply,
Redundant treaſure would Her be given;
Should It (while Love was granted) that deny,
For it's beſt gift her thanks would riſe to Heaven.
The Mean, My Fair, and Abject of thy ſex
Yield not the fainteſt light to judge of Thee;
My ſettled faith no jarring doubts perplex,
Thy hopes, thy fears are center'd all in Me.
E'en beneath Poverty's incumbent load,
Our hearts would glow with unextinguiſh'd fire;
While We together trod th' uneven road,
A groan would not be heard, a ſigh tranſpire.
[50]
Should I be doom'd Another's flock to tend,
Without regret the change I ſee thee bear;
To Duty's humbleſt ſtep, ſerene deſcend,
My love the full reward of every care.
With what reluctance, at the break of day,
Bid We adieu! How oft reverts my ſight!
How do We chide the tardy Sun's delay!
And with what rapture hail the approach of night!
While Temperance pleaſed ſurveys our homely fare,
Our ſlender beverage while Content ſupplies,
Let feſtive Luxury cull her viands rare,
Grateful We ſit, and uninvidious riſe.
Then, e'er with fondneſs We retire to reſt,
Converſing bland, Life's mingled ſcenes We view;
[51] From theſe Delight gay-beaming warms our breaſt,
And thoſe impearl our cheeks with Pity's dew.
Or not forſaken by the tuneful Nine,
With ſweeteſt deſcant I the Time beguile,
Mark how my Theſpia's eyes with tranſport ſhine,
Nor covet aught, but her approving ſmile.
The rural Matron, and the grey-hair'd Sire
Devoutly wiſh their Children's lot the ſame;
Thy prudence, meekneſs, neatneſs of attire,
My induſtry, and love, their precepts frame.
Oh Theſpia! not the wealth of Worlds could buy
From thee a link of our ſoul-bracing chain;
And ſhould Affliction, ſhould Misfortune try
To break it's union, they would ſtrive in vain.
[52]
Thou know'ſt to value Love; how incomplete
Without his aid, how ſmall is Pleaſure's ſtore;
Without his aid, how wretched are the Great,
Favour'd by Him, what joys may bleſs the Poor.
XV.
HENCE raſh Belief! may thy wild thoughts again
Ne'er thro' the cells of buſy fancy rove!
Oblivion ſnatch their memory from my brain!
Nor leave a thought injurious to my Love!
But ever thus in your moſt pleaſing dreſs,
Ye dear Ideas croud upon my ſoul!
There, each rejoicing avenue poſſeſs,
And fill with extaſy the vital goal!
Place her, as now, before my mental eye
The ſweet, unrivall'd, ſpotleſs, tender Fair!
Pure as the fleecy whiteneſs of the ſky,
Gentle as breezes mild of Vernal air!
[53]
Can'ſt Thou not gueſs what torments ſeized my heart?
(For each ſoft paſſion, nicer ſenſe is thine)
How thro' each nerve ſwift ran the venom'd ſmart,
When my eyes glanced along the dubious line?
Not for the Eaſtern Tyrant's gorgeous robe,
For all the ſlaves that at his feet have knelt,
Not for the wealth of all this ample globe,
Would I e'er feel again, what then I felt.
Reflection was o'erwhelm'd; It's power was loſt.
Upon my brow a cold damp vapour hung;
My brain a thouſand vague ideas croſs'd,
Made by heart ſick, and chain'd my palſied tongue.
Striving to read, my eyes their taſk refuſed;
Again I ſtrove, and forced their ſtraining gaze.
[54] I thought—yet could not think I was abuſed—
I wiſh'd—but all was darkneſs and amaze.
Then all that I had read, or heard, or knew
Of Women's guile, and how with arts they blind
Unguarded Man, to true love, moſt Untrue,
Ruſh'd headlong in, and harrow'd up my Mind.
Can I this want of confidence forgive
To Me, who would for her thro' ſultry climes,
Thro' frozen ſeas have paſs'd? not whileſt I live;
'Tis treaſon, perfidy, the worſt of crimes.
To caſt a ſhade o'er infamy! of vice
The boſom friend! to fix the mutual ſeal!
Surely Herſelf will ne'er be over-nice,
Who could Another's ſhame ſo well conceal.
[55]
Why did She beg the Paper from my hand,
But that it proves her conduct baſe and light?
With trembling earneſtneſs behind Me ſtand?
Then haſte away to ſhun my piercing ſight?
It cannot be—ſome, curſed Miſtake is here—
Yet ſtill, that Woman's life confirms the deed.
Why doubt? too true alas! the grounds of fear;
If true, my wounded heart muſt ever bleed.
Theſe a few thoughts, from out the many were;
Which thro' my mind with fervid motion roll'd:
Diſorder, contradiction, dread was there,
And hope, quick yielding to ſuſpicion bold.
Lo! I approach thy preſence—While my knees
Can ſcarce ſupport their tottering weight along,
[56] My cheeks now glow, now on a ſudden freeze,
Now pauſes my weak heart, now vibrates ſtrong.
Thy hand I preſs'd, but did not as before,
Feel thrilling pleaſure harmonize my frame;
That magic touch alas! prevailed no more;
Emotions roſe, which now I bluſh to name.
Then firſt, with ill-diſſembled tenderneſs
I wrapp'd thy ſoft confuſion in my arms,
No accents were prepared thy ears to bleſs,
My ſoul was firmly cloſed againſt thy charms.
Yet did I pity thee: Yes witneſs Heaven!
Compaſſion view'd thee, tho' I could not love;
I ſaw thee from my bleeding boſom riven!
And ſunk below Me, while I ſoar'd above.
Yes I look'd down with pity on thy ſtate,
As on a Cherub whom I once admired;
[57] I loved thee not, and yet I could not hate,
Mourn'd thee guilt-ſpotted, but no more deſired.
With heſitation my reproach began;
What rapturous pleaſure did thy anſwer bear!
Superior joy ne'er bathed the ſoul of Man,
From the pure ſtream of bliſs, and fount ſincere.
Ah Fool! who would not rather have divined
Likeneſs of names?—Could I with mean diſ⯑grace
Thus taint that inborn rectitude of Mind,
Diſcloſed in each bright feature of thy face?
Could I thus ſtamp with guilt, ſenſations ſprung
From thought moſt delicate, which ſhrinks afraid
From the rude breath of cenſure, from the tongue
Ungenerous, daring without cauſe upbraid?
[58]
Oh! for the honour of thy Sex, and thee,
Still be it mine my darling Fair to err!
Ne'er may thy gentle graces veil to Me,
Be innocence thy genuine character.
But be it thine to pardon, to diſplay
Thy meekneſs, frankneſs; ſo ſhall ardent love
Tho' dimm'd awhile, ſhine with intenſer ray,
And even time it's ſteadier warmth improve.
XVI.
O My ſoul's only Joy! My promiſed Wife!
For whom I breathe, for whom the ſtream of life
Swift courſes thro' my veins! Thou generous Maid,
By Truth, and young Sincerity array'd
In unſuſpecting honour! Nobly free,
Placing th' exceſs of confidence in Me.
[59] Who heedleſs of th' inſipid, prudiſh art,
Own'ſt all the genuine dictates of thy heart.
From Me no word, no action ſhalt thou find
To ſoil thy innate lovelineſs of Mind.
From Me thy innocence hath nought to fear,
To Me be ſtill unboundedly ſincere.
Still gaze on Me with love's complacent eye,
Still give Me tear for tear, and ſigh for ſigh.
In my fond boſom hide thy bluſhing face,
Be more than paſſive ſtill to my embrace.
Deareſt of Women! Oh! without controul
Indulge theſe fineſt movements of the ſoul!
My breaſt is not with vulgar paſſion fraught,
I glory in my dignity of thought.
Tis true, I feel within the kindling fire,
I feel the madd'ning anguiſh of deſire.
The agonizing joy, the rapturous pain
Goads each idea of my ſwimming brain.
[60] Yet this, tho' ſympathiſing Thou appear,
To faintneſs, and to ſickneſs can I bear,
Nay e'en to death itſelf, e'er Thou ſhalt ſee
A deed unworthy of Myſelf and Thee.
XVII.
HAppy the Few, who in retirement find
Thoſe ſweet delights which ſhun tumultuous noiſe!
Who feaſt on pleaſures ſuited to their mind,
And barter idle ſhew, for ſolid joys!
Far from the City, and it's Revelers gay,
To ſhades, and bubbling ſprings, Love takes his flight;
He hates the ſcenes of their fantaſtic day,
And long-protracted vigils of their night.
In crouded Towns, how rarely Virtue dwells!
How ſeldom is the genuine Muſe careſt!
[61] They range th' untainted lawns, and rural dells,
Adorn the Maid, or fire her Shepherd's breaſt.
And are We doom'd to this abhorr'd abode?
Forbid again, to breathe ſerener air?
To ſtray, as erſt, along the ſecret road,
Untrod by Vice, by Vanity, and Care?
Here Avarice ſits; there, burſting Reaſon's mound,
Impertinence rolls on her giddy tide;
With thoughtleſs mirth the lofty domes reſound,
The ſtreets reflect the gariſh rays of pride.
Should We a moment wiſh the din to ceaſe,
Would I, my Theſpia, frame the ſoothing lay,
Some worthleſs Viſitors diſturb our peace,
And force th' alluring images away.
Friendſhip their idle boſoms never graced,
Not to it's finer voice their nerves are ſtrung,
[62] Scandal and Folly regulate their taſte,
And prompt the quick vibrations of their tongue.
Who, bred in Cities, view the lovely beam
Freſh darted from the Morn's expanding eye?
Till noon the Fair indulge their ſlothful dream,
Wake to complain, and breathe the languid ſigh.
Th' important hours are then reſign'd to dreſs,
The fancied Form of Elegance is near;
But She, far other minds intent to bleſs,
Seeks with Simplicity a different ſphere.
In trifling Parties, Evening's ear is cloy'd
With mingled converſe which no Senſe can hit;
Each theme exhauſted, cards ſupply the void,
Poor parti-colour'd Emblems of their wit.
[63]
Impell'd by Vanity, they ſeek the dance,
Their hair new-modell'd, or their veſture new;
With hearts unfeeling t'ward the Stage advance,
To Pity deaf, to Self-love only true.
Or turn'd Enthuſiaſts, Muſic's charms ad⯑mire;
How ſweetly rapt on it's harmonious wings!
Yet, no delight it's tendereſt notes inſpire,
Then pleaſed alone, when ſtraining Diſcord ſings.
With ſuch as theſe will faithful Love remain?
Whate'er the whiſpering Coxcomb may proteſt?
Their forms, their ſouls, ſurveying with diſ⯑dain,
To Pomp, and Avarice He reſigns their breaſt.
Loathing it's ſhape, how ſhall I Vice deſcribe?
What terrors will it's hideous aſpect raiſe?
[64] Thy Mind will ſhrink from her deteſted Tribe,
Nor dare behold them painted in my lays.
Here, for th' unwary, Craft inweaves his ſnares,
Honour's juſt trophies Envy's force o'erturns,
Seduction his enticing baits prepares,
And with unhallow'd flames the Matron burns.
Led by example, all her charms diſplaced
By education, (tho' her will She hides)
From fear, from intereſt, is the Virgin chaſte,
While thro' her veins the ſubtile poiſon glides.
Intemperate Riot now his orgies holds,
See, abject Treachery e'en his Friend betray!
The Flatterer here his baſe deceptions moulds,
And there the nightly Robber prowls for prey.
And muſt We ever with theſe Inmates dwell?
Muſt we perforce theſe odious manſions chooſe?
[65] Can We ne'er break pernicious cuſtom's ſpell?
Oh! Form'd for love, for virtue, and the Muſe?
Form'd with the warmeſt, beſt, ſincereſt heart?
Form'd to perceive, to act by Judgment's light?
Form'd with the pureſt taſte, unſoil'd by art,
To urge ſwift Fancy on, or check her flight?
No, let Us vow, when that auſpicious hour,
Expected long, together joins our fate,
To ſeek with Nature, her congenial bower,
Remote from envy, tumult, and debate.
Or, ſhould our chains be too ſeverely bound,
That no contagious atoms may infeſt,
With ſtricteſt watch to guard our doors around,
And thus Incloſed, eſcape the dangerous peſt.
Meanwhile O light-plumed Youth, haſte not away!
Veil not th' enchanting ardour of thy face;
[66] Let thy eyes gliſtening dart the vivid ray,
With tranſport ſpeak, and move with native grace.
Ah! much I fear, e'er that auſpicious hour,
No more thy bloom ſoft-mantling will be ſeen,
Fading, as ſhrink before the Solar power
May's fragrant bloſſoms, and her cheerful green.
With thee muſt Joy, muſt ſmiling Love re⯑treat?
Shall the quick ſtream which warms the heart, be cold?
Shall Senſibility deſert her ſeat?
And Fancy's radiant viſions, clouds infold?
Shall Innocence no more her bluſh beſtow?
Tender Humanity, the pitying ſigh?
No more enraptured, ſhall the ſpirits flow
At Honour's call? To Us ſhall Virtue die?
[67]
Forbid it all Ye Powers, whoſe bounteous hands
Our ſoul-connecting wreathe at firſt intwined!
Let Us rejoin your unpolluted bands,
And leave th' infected city far behind.
Still, ſtill awhile retard the wings of Youth!
Give Us Retirement's genuine bliſs to ſhare!
Let mutual Faith, Sincerity, and Truth,
The Blameleſs Muſe, and ardent Love be there!
XVIII.
WHO, elevated by the ſacred flame
Of Poeſy ſublime, their Minds debaſe?
Spotted with indecorous deeds of ſhame?
And imitating Man's inferior race?
How little They the Muſe's Votary know,
Who think his ſoul from conſtancy will ſwerve,
[68] While the pure current whence his Numbers flow,
Each artery fills, and ſtrengthens every nerve!
Theſe truths, my Theſpia, on thy memory ſeal.
Are there, who boaſt to join her choſen train,
Fickle and wavering, of affections frail,
Purſuing joys fantaſtic, light and vain?
Who ſtoop to vaunting Pride? Who covet gold?
Who ſcorn the leaſt of Honour's generous ties?
Rude in their manners, pert, obtruſive, bold?
The Muſe ſurveys them with indignant eyes.
No warm originality is theirs,
Genius retired, or frown'd upon their birth,
Mechanic Rhimeſters, to mechanic ears,
The frigid, groveling Progeny of earth.
[69]
Idly They ſtrive t' aſcend the forked hill,
It's arduous paths, and rocks abrupt to climb,
Forever at it's baſe, tho' labouring ſtill,
Then ſwept unnoticed down the vale of time.
Confiding in their oaths—Oh, Luckleſs Fair!
What woes, what tortures, follow cloſe behind!
Unprincipled their giddy bark they ſteer,
It ſuits their native littleneſs of mind.
Not thus, on Whom the true Phoeboean ray
It's influence ſheds; his boſom glowing bright,
Free are his numbers as the beams of day,
Ardent and chaſte as that celeſtial light.
Should He, amid the fervid hours of Youth,
Be drawn by Pleaſure's ſpecious wiles aſide,
Soon he retreats, led back by radiant Truth,
Nor e'er forſakes again his bounteous Guide.
To Faſhion's mode He varies not his ſtrain,
Nature and Taſte impart their liberal rules,
[70] No Flatterer He, no Slave to ſordid gain,
And independent on the breath of Fools.
For no peculiar day, no age He ſings,
The time will come when Judgment ſhall prevail;
For late Poſterity He ſpreads his wings,
And lives, when marble monuments ſhall fail.
Firmneſs and Dignity poſſeſs his ſoul,
No wild caprice, or trifles fond, beguile;
His ſteady courſe is bent t'ward Honour's goal,
The Virtues praiſe Him, and the Graces ſmile.
How True to Fame! How tenderly alive
To Pity's ſoft emotions! How ſincere!
How vainly the tumultuous Paſſions ſtrive
Toſhake his breaſt! They claim no empire there.
No change he knows, ne'er roves his devious eye,
On Him the Virgin's heart it's faith reclines;
[71] He eſtimates a tear of Her's, a ſigh,
Above Potoſi's or Golconda's mines.
Doth not on Him, her every hope depend?
Shall Love, ſhall Innocence, repent the truſt?
Can Rectitude it's deeds with Falſehood blend?
Or can the Muſe's Offspring be unjuſt?
Haply their ſpurious Brood at ſtrains like theſe
May ſcoff; and Diſſipation laugh aloud:
But Nature all-conſiſtent in her ways,
With the Sun's eſſence mingles not a cloud.
In the ſame breaſt She places not deſires
Of adverſe ſort, diſcriminating nice;
Nor kindles ſtrong Imagination's fires,
In the cold head, or luke-warm heart of Vice.
[72]XIX.
FROM the firſt hour when I beheld the light,
No time compared with this have I ſurvey'd,
No day e'er roſe with luſtre half ſo bright,
No minutes ſhone in plumes ſo fair array'd.
At length Adverſity hath ſpent her ſtore,
Or with falſe aim her poiſon'd arrows fly;
Our ſpirits long depreſt, again can ſoar,
No tears but thoſe of bliſs, ſhall wet our eye.
O my Beloved! this day ſhall ever ſtand,
With Me, the golden period of the year;
This day good Fortune waved her potent wand,
Diſperſing all the miſts of doubt and fear.
Ne'er may they riſe again our joys between!
Ye unexpected ties propitious prove!
Fairer, and brighter ſtill be every ſcene,
Pourtray'd by tenderneſs, illumed by love!
[73]XX.*
LET Some heap wealth with never-ceaſing pain,
Try every art, and brave all ills for gain.
Let Others toil in war, whom glory charms,
Their ſlumbers broken by the din of arms.
Me, neither emulous of pomp or praiſe,
Choice to a life of indolence betrays.
Nor ſmall the pleaſure which the Country yields,
It's rills untainted, and innoxious fields.
Now from th' incircling weed the plant I free,
Now ſhake the ripen'd Apple from the tree;
My thriving nurſery view; or lands which bear
The frugal portion of the future year;
[74] In hope, my ſheaves arranged with ſkill, ſurvey,
Or homeward borne, and ſafely piled away.
I bluſh not in my hardy palm to take
The ſharpen'd ſickle, or collecting rake;
To turn the furrow in the looſen'd plain,
And throw with liberal hand the yellow grain.
Or when unheeded by it's careleſs Dam,
To foſter by my fire a tender Lamb.
This is the place where life with joy is ſpent,
Theſe are the haunts which cheriſh ſweet Content.
Oh! when a vacant interſpace I find,
To tread the paths, myſelf have taught to wind,
Where the trim hedgerows, neatly pleach'd, around
Defend my farm, and circumſcribe it's bound.
[75] To break my fence, and ramble, void of car,
Acroſs the hills and dales, I know not where;
How ſtruck with awe, or pleaſure, ſhould my eye
A blaſted Oak unſeen before eſpy!
Or my ear catch the ſong of ruſtic Hind
Borne on the pinions of the breathing wind!
Tho' ſlender are my means, nor large my ſtore,
Yet not unhoſpitable is my door;
Oft ſhall my honeſt Neighbours enter there,
And own, that tho' not rich, I am ſincere.
There helpleſs Age ſhall gain ſome ſmall ſupply,
Nor lift in vain the ſupplicating eye.
Oh! may my fields the burſting torrent ſpare,
Nor ſweep away the produce of the year!
[76] Oh! wholeſome be the gales which o'er them blow!
So ſhall my grazing flock no taintworm know:
So ſhall my healthy Oxen draw the plough,
My kine with well-diſtended udders low.
Be to my humble prayer propitious, Heaven!
Nor thus make leſs the little Thou haſt given!
That little is enough; with that I'm bleſt;
And feel each wiſh abundantly poſſeſt.
Yes, 'tis enough; what Luxury ne'er knows,
Each eve I ſteep my limbs in calm repoſe.
Should I awake, how pleaſed, to lye, and hear
The raging winds without aſſail my ear!
And ſhould my Theſpia at the tempeſt ſtart,
To ſtrain the trembling Fair One to my heart!
Or when the wintry rain deſcends in ſtreams
Then to be buried in Elyſian dreams!
[77]
This be my lot; let Him be rich for Me,
Who dares the terrors of th' uncertain ſea;
The pointed rocks, and hidden quickſands braves,
And all the fury of the winds and waves.
This be my lot; Content ſhall league with Health,
Nor give one anxious thought to pride or wealth.
My luxury; the ſummers fervid ſun
In ſome o'er-arching cave, or grove to ſhun;
Seek the deep-ſhaded ſtream which ſteals along,
And pour my unpremeditated ſong.
When Winter drives my Cattle to the fold,
And the ſhrunk Aether is benumb'd with cold,
To heap the crackling fuel, and at eaſe
Enjoy the ſpreading luſtre of the blaze;
Or bid my diſtant houſehold Train draw nigh,
And catch the pleaſure beaming from their eye.
Riches! I give them to the wind—to Me
They ſhine unnoticed, and my Fair to thee.
[78] Riches! again I give You to the wind—
Say, can you add one pleaſure to the Mind?
Root out the ever-withering branch of care?
Or plant one vegetative virtue there?
Wide-ſtraying Fancy, whither doſt Thou rove?
O Theſpia, all theſe thoughts I owe to love.
From thee they ſpring, by thee my breaſt was fired,
And reaſon ſanctifies, what love inſpired.
Had not thy wiſhes breathed an humble life,
I might perhaps, with baſe diſeaſes rife,
Have join'd the ſordid throng—have dogg'd the train
Of abject Pride, and clank'd my golden chain.
Now do I know to live My Theſpia, now
To live indeed, for Thou haſt taught Me how.
[79]
For thee My Love, no toil would I diſdain,
But vie in labour with the meaneſt Swain.
My Oxen join, when day begins to peep,
Or on the lonely mountain feed my ſheep;
And while my arms thy gentle form ſurround,
Enjoy ſoft ſlumbers on the rugged ground.
Who on th' embroider'd couch would wiſh to lye,
If ſcornful love expand his ſleepleſs eye?
Ah! wretch! ſoft melody's enchanting ſtrain,
The downy pillow tempts repoſe in vain.
Let Vanity in empty ſhew delight,
To glitter in the Gazer's wondring ſight;
Let proud Ambition to the court repair,
There the mean brow of ſervile flattery wear,
Cringe to ſome worthleſs Pander every hour,
Creep on the dirty ground, to riſe to power.
Let Avarice looking on his tumid ſtore,
Exulting lift his head, and curſe the Poor;
[80] Thou fill'ſt my every wiſh, and while the fire
Of life ſhall burn, no other ſhall tranſpire.
E'en at the laſt, Thou ſtill my ſight ſhalt bleſs,
And my weak hand ſhall ſtrive thy hand to preſs.
How wilt Thou mourn, and droop thy penſive head,
When on my bed of death I ſhall be laid!
Yes, Thou wilt mourn, my pale, cold limbs embrace,
And bathe with ineffectual tears my face.
Thou haſt no flinty heart which cannot feel,
Thy boſom is not braced with chains of ſteel.
With ſtreaming eyes ſee Me inhumed in clay,
Nor force ſhall tear thee from my grave away.
Yet Oh! thy cheeks at that dread moment ſpare,
Nor rend the flowing treſſes of thy hair!
Tho' torn from thee by Death's relentleſs will,
My conſcious ſoul ſhall fondly view thee ſtill.
[81]
Meantime let Love be ours; too ſoon will ſpread
The ſable cloud round each devoted head.
Too ſoon Old Age ſteals on, whoſe froſted hair
Forbids the genial blandiſhments to ſhare.
Now let the Fugitive be our's! for now
On our fluſh'd cheeks ſits well his fervent glow.
Now it becomes to mix th' endearing ſcene,
And ſcatter ſweet protervity between.
Far be the buſtling World! it's trivial joys,
It's fame, it's wealth, it's honours, I deſpiſe.
XXI.
HATH the flaming Car of day
Roll'd it's annual courſe away,
Since my Theſpia to my arms
Yielded firſt her Virgin charms?
Since the meekly-bluſhing Fair
Whiſper'd ſoftly in my ear,
[82] Anxious grief and doubt are flown,
Take Me, I am all thy own?
Yes, the rapid hours are paſt,
Fled with more than winged haſte.
Swift indeed is Pleaſure's tread,
Swift Ye Hours of joy Ye fled.
Ever-enchanting! Ever-new!
Still with fondeſt look I view
The gentle beams which from thy heart
Thro' thy eyes expreſſive dart.
Still I feel a Lover's fire,
Tendereſt thoughts, and warm deſire;
The bridal Graces round thee play,
Young, Unconſcious of decay.
Hence reproach, and ſatire vain!
Fools may feel the galling chain.
Freedom for Us the garland wove,
Connecting Hymen, cloſe with Love.
[83] Doth poſſeſſion render leſs
The ſweet zeſt of happineſs?
How with pity We behold
The groveling ſoul, and ſlaves of gold!
XXII.
I Call no Virgin of the Nine,
I bend not low at Fancy's ſhrine,
To truth alone theſe ſtrains belong,
She guides my pen, and prompts my ſong.
O Theſpia, Time, which can controul
The wilder fervours of the ſoul,
Before whom falſehood ſtands confeſt,
Of frailty the deciſive teſt,
Hath, while the ſtill-progreſſive year
Surrounded twice the ſolar ſphere,
Added new ſtrength to tender love,
The paſſion nicer ſpirits prove.
[84] Hath tried thy ſoul, and found it right,
Hath brought new graces forth to light;
Diſcover'd beauties in the Wife,
Which could not bloom in ſingle life.
How poor is Wealth, how low is Power,
Compared with thy ſuperior dower!
Thine are the charms of Innocence,
Of unaffected, native ſenſe,
From that, ſprings chaſte and humorous Mirth,
And this, to Decency gives birth,
The band without whoſe modeſt tye
Mirth is unmeaning revelry.
Thine is Compaſſion's breath ſincere,
Her gentle ſigh, and generous tear.
Prudential caution, artleſs eaſe,
That ſweet ſolicitude to pleaſe
Which never fails my ſoul to bleſs,
And renders every trouble leſs.
[85]
Let Fortune frown; let Friendſhip fade,
Diſown the promiſes it made;
Let Flattery cringe, her baits diſplay,
And leagued with ſelfiſh Fraud, betray.
Whatever winds acroſs my courſe
Blow adverſe, and whate'er their force,
Thou ſtill ſhalt ſoothe my ruffled breaſt,
With thee Peace builds her Halcyon neſt.
Thou wilt Content's pure joys impart,
And calm Serenity of heart.
I hate no more, by thee refined,
But only wonder at Mankind.
And tho' I know my prayer is vain,
And they are fetter'd by the chain
Of Folly, Malice, Pride and Pelf,
Wiſh They were happy as Myſelf.
[86]XXIII.
THERE are, who think Mankind are born to rove,
By nature vagrant as th' uncertain gale,
Who laugh at vows of conſtancy and love,
As dreams of fancy, or a Dotard's tale.
To theſe, my Theſpia, ſilence is the beſt,
The only anſwer, can be juſtly given;
Let them enjoy their dull unmeaning jeſt;
Can creeping Miſts pollute the face of Heaven?
They know not real love, nor ever knew;
And bent on vulgar ſcenes of low delight,
Can never Virtue's genuine beauties view,
Or the true ray of pleaſure mildly bright.
In faſhion's bowers they flit their little day,
And eager from their ſouls to baniſh thought,
[87] To idle diſſipation homage pay,
And giddy, drink her various-mingled draught.
For them let ſecret Pity drop a tear,
And nobly conſcious of ſublimer joys,
Self-ſatisfied her happier fortune bear,
And leave to change and vanity their toys.
Conſcious the darling Object ne'er can tire,
True love to each external good is blind,
Fixt is the wavering pinion of deſire,
Thought anſwers thought, and Mind embraces Mind.
Who think like Us, like Us who love, to thoſe
Can wealth or power an added pleaſure give?
Their tender ſympathy ſtill ſtronger grows,
Till memory dies their warm affections live.
Them do their ſmiling Progeny amuſe?
The infant race their mutual cares employ.
[88] This gift ſhould wiſeſt Providence refuſe,
They in each other center every joy.
Not accident or time can e'er divide
The attractive, firm, indiſſoluble chain,
The band which cordial Amity hath tyed,
No Power, but Death itſelf can break in twain.
XXIV.
London, February, 1775.
HERE mid the giddy and the vain I rove
In cheerleſs ſolitude, nor taſte of joy,
My mind retreats to thoſe dear ſcenes of love,
Thoſe ſcenes where pleaſure reigns without alloy.
Unſatisfied from gayety I turn,
What charms has luxury or pride for Me?
Methinks I view departed Virtues Urn,
And ſorrowing fix my longing thoughts on thee.
[89]
On thee, her living Image; in whoſe ſoul
Dwells every grace which harmonizes life,
Which gilds with bliſs the moments as they roll,
And makes Me venerate the name of Wife.
Here mid the croud, unknowing, and un⯑known
I paſs in gloomy ſullenneſs along;
Each entertainment now is odious grown,
The dance inſipid, tireſome is the ſong.
Ah! I perceive that nought on earth can pleaſe,
When wanting thee, ſole object of delight,
Thy eyes emit their ſoft expreſſive rays,
And pleaſure ſmiles, enamour'd at the ſight.
Alone, I bear a dull and lifeleſs load,
My thoughts are moping, comfortleſs, and cold,
[90] Thy preſence is the warm inciting goad
Which cheers each ſenſe, and renders fancy bold.
How wretched They! who in the mazy round
Of idle faſhion urge their fruitleſs chace,
Who every tender ſentiment confound,
And Nature's laws ſubmit to Folly baſe!
Here every hour the Ideot train I ſpy,
The buſy, fluttering, gay, unthinking Crew,
In every place they meet the ſated eye,
And wanton Licence ſickens at the view.
They know, my Love, no happineſs ſerene,
Tho' in the wild purſuit their lives are ſpent,
They die unconſcious of the ſoothing ſtrain
Which charms the liſtening ear of ſweet Content.
[91]
Miſtaken Fair Ones! Idle, thoughtleſs Tribe!
Victims to vice, to vanity, and play!—
Say, could the World, and all its riches bribe
Thy nobler heart, my Theſpia, thus to ſtray?
Thus to abandon the domeſtic ſcene,
Where gentleſt Peace forever waves her wing?
Where Honour, Virtue, Mild affection reign,
And Hymen wears th' eternal veſt of ſpring?
No never. Thou incircled in my arms,
Own'ſt every wiſh, and every joy compleat;
While I with rapture gazing on thy charms,
Deſpiſe the mean ambition of the great.
Ye ſluggiſh Hours, haſte, haſte more ſwift away;
That I may fly to all my ſoul holds dear!
Thy banner, chaſte Connubial Love diſplay,
And guide Me ſafely to her breaſt ſincere!
[92]XXV.
YE Nymphs who tend each blooming grove
Of ſhady Hants, receive My Fair!
Oh! heed th' intreating voice of Love,
And guard her with peculiar care!
A Worthier Gueſt Ye never knew,
Ne'er hail'd a Soul of more unſpotted hue.
If thus my Theſpia tread the plain,
A favourite of the Sylvan Powers,
Or in the friendly, dome remain,
Where glide Life's pure unruffled hours,
Say, will not her reflecting Mind
Oft trace the pleaſing ſcenes She left behind?
It will; awhile Herſelf She cheats,
And thinks the diſtant viſion near,
With new-raiſed joy her boſom beats,
But ſoon it fades, and melts in air.
[93] Wiſhing the real ſcenes to ſpy,
With downcaſt look, She checks the tender ſigh.
From my own thoughts I judge of thine,
The ſame illuſions float around,
But ah! too quickly I reſign
Th' ideal form, the ideal ſound,
Thy graces, like the Meteor's ray,
Thy voice, like feeble Echo's, dies away.
On Iſca's margin green I rove,
Or hurry t'ward the rural Cot,
But unobſerved by ſocial Love,
The varied landſcape charms Me not;
Only by thee attractive made,
Deck'd with it's beauteous tints of light and ſhade.
Oh! come Thou Wanderer! Pleaſures beam
Now ſetting, ſhall again ariſe,
[94] With Love United, pour it's ſtream
Of radiance, and adorn the ſkies.
Come Gentle Wanderer to my heart!
Return, return, my Soul's far dearer part!
XXVI.
NOW Iſſuing from his northern reign,
Stern Winter ruſhes o'er the plain,
And proudly boaſts his power.
The Genius of the foreſt ſighs,
While penſive Nature ſhivering lyes
Beneath her leafleſs bower.
Who Theſpia, ſhall the ſeaſon cheer?
Relax the rigour of the year?
And e'en in Winter's arms,
Bid Fancy place gay-blooming Spring,
And frolic Zephyr wave his wing,
In homage to her charms?
[95]
Ah, who but Love! within the breaſt
By his enchanting influence bleſt
Perennial roſes grow;
Ethereal Mildneſs harbours there,
No furious ſtorms, or nipping air
His ſweet Enthuſiaſts know.
They view well-pleaſed a different clime,
To them a different date of time,
Another Sun belongs;
While all-unſeen by vulgar eye,
Ten thouſand plumed Pleaſures fly,
And chaunt their vernal ſongs.
If haply human Paſſions ſwell,
And ſhake awhile their peaceful cell,
They ſtrive with idle force:
Soon, mutual Fondneſs in her chains
The momentary blaſts reſtrains,
And ſmiling, checks their courſe.
[96]
Soon as before, the lillies bloom,
Again the roſes breathe perfume,
And freſher colours ſpread;
Again the Pleaſures wave their wing,
Again their warbled tranſports ſing,
Around the nuptial bed.
O Theſpia, days and Years paſs by;
The varying ſeaſons We eſpy,
To Us no change is known;
With Us perpetual verdure blows,
For Us with conſtant beauty glows
A Seaſon of our own.
XXVII.
SAY, can the Muſe with all her magic power
Tho' every grace attends her fairy train,
Tho' She hath cull'd each bloom which decks the bower
Of Elegance, to ornament her ſtrain.
[97]
Can She the ſoul of Hymeneal Love,
Can She its tender ſympathies pourtray?
While Harmony expands her wings above,
And Paſſion yields to Friendſhip's ſteadier ray?
Ah no! 'tis Her's, the ſuffering Lover's tears,
His feveriſh hopes, and wild deſires to paint,
His giddy tranſports, jealous doubts, and fears,
But who can trace the charms of full Content?
The ſoft complacence of the conſcious heart
Mocks the rude touches of Poetic Art.
XXVIII.
THO' I have broke by force the dazzling ſpell,
No longer by its bright illuſions ſway'd,
Tho' plunged in action, I have bid farewell
To ſoothing Fancy, to each tuneful Maid.
[98]
Yet at thy call I take a tranſient view,
And for a moment ſeek the Muſes' ſhrine,
Freſh-blooming chaplets on their Altar ſtrew,
To their enchantments deaf, but ruled by thine.
Yes, witneſs Nuptial Love! No other Power
Could now evoke the long-forgotten ſtrain,
With glancing ſun-beam cheer the clouded hour,
And urge Me to their roſeate paths again.
With thee I trace each lawn, each meadow green;
Thy voice, is that, of reaſon, ſcience, truth;
With thee I viſit each Ideal ſcene,
The rapture-breathing haunts of early Youth.
Well-pleaſed the Son of Venus I behold,
Well-pleaſed behold Him aim his thrilling dart,
And generous Ardour ſcorning ſordid gold,
And Faith ingenuous linking heart to heart.
[99]
And adverſe Fate prepared to break the tye,
But idly-ſtriving with malicious hand,
And Perſeverance with intrepid eye,
And Hope gay-waving her ethereal wand.
And Hymen with a fragrant garland crown'd
By the ſoft fingers of the graces wove,
Scattering profuſe a thouſand bleſſings round,
And holding converſe ſweet with ſmiling Love.
With ſmiling Love ſtill converſe ſweet He holds;
To no ideal ſcenes We need repair,
The Muſe's hallow'd ſhrine his wing infolds,
And the Bard offers his juſt homage there.
His be the chaplets! his the Votive lay!
Let others dwell on thoughts of paſt delight;
He gilds the beams of this auſpicious day,
And ſheds o'er all the Fane his influence bright.
[100]
This morn to gratulate, for many a year
May I with joy awake the ſlumbering lyre!
My Numbers which to Theſpia firſt were dear,
Will at her bidding reaſſume their fire.
I aſk not fame, Misjudging Croud begone!
The Muſe ye vilify ſings not for You.
She ſings for Theſpia, and from her alone
Expects the palm to conſtant paſſion due.
XXIX.
Bath, December 20, 1778.
YE Nymphs! Who o'er theſe myſtic ſprings preſide,
Which the laborious ſearch of Art deride,
By whom alone is traced their winding courſe,
Who know each ſeed impregnating their ſource,
And whether chymic heat, or real flame
Preſerves their warmth, thro' countleſs years, the ſame.
[101] Great is your Virtue, and with praiſes due
Hygeia oft hath tuned the lyre to You.
But Oh! Ye Chaſte-breath'd Harmonies! whoſe ſway,
And gentle impulſe Minds ſelect obey;
Who in the ſofter, purer heart reſide,
Each thought refine, and each emotion guide,
Who from that ſeat expel intruding care,
And bid ſerene complacence harbour there,
Bid Patience ſpread her wing, Ethereal Gueſt,
And charm the ſullen paſſious into reſt,
Without your aid, how vain the boaſted waves
Would iſſue from their ſubterraneous caves!
In vain the Nymphs would cauſe them ſtill to flow,
Steam in the Bath, or in the Chryſtal glow.
Say then my Theſpia, ſhall not I e'erlong,
The blue-ey'd Siſters hail with grateful ſong?
[102] Who to theſe ſtreams (no doubt inſpired by Heaven)
Such matchleſs force, and energy have given?
Yes, Priſtine Health muſt ſoon again be Mine;
For all the mental Harmonies are thine.
XXX.
O Thou! who climb'ſt at morn the mountain high,
Viewing th' impurpled Eaſt with joyful eye,
Thence with light ſtep deſcending to the vale,
Imbibeſt with extaſy the breezy gale!
Or piercing thro' ſome covert yet untried,
Beating the moiſt, o'er-hanging boughs aſide,
Still moveſt delighted on with nimble pace,
The ſprinkled dew-drops glittering in thy face,
Liſtening the brook which idly brawls along,
And every plumed Warbler's matin ſong!
[103] Or when the burniſh'd Car by Phoebus roll'd,
Darts more intenſe it's rays of liquid gold,
Beneath ſome ivy-fringed cave reclined,
Fancy's bright Viſions ruſhing on thy Mind,
With ſpirits bland, nurſed by the genial Powers,
Sootheſt with melodious notes the ſultry hours!
Nor leſs when each gay verdant ſcene is loſt,
And Winter ſhoots his darts of polar froſt,
With Exerciſe thy Siſter, pleaſed, to brave
The Winds fierce iſſuing from their ſtormy cave!
Fleet o'er the ſmooth and ice-bound lake to ſkim,
While the blood glows in every active limb!
To follow where the Hounds direct their ſpeed,
Urging o'er hill and dale the rapid Steed!
Or by the ſocial blaze, with cheerful breaſt
Prompting the tale of mirth and frolic jeſt,
The rural laugh which ſprings from heart-felt glee,
The ſprightly dance, and artleſs minſtrelſy!
[104] Hygeia! Faireſt Nymph of Dian's train!
Ah! why by Me ſo long purſued in vain!
I ſee thee not, when beams Morn's purple light,
When ſhines the Sun with mid-day fervour bright,
I meet thee not upon the mountain's brow,
In the wild woodland, or the vale below,
Nor by the pratling brook with oſiers crown'd,
Nor in the cave with flaunting ivy bound;
And when the Minſtrel ſings with heart-felt glee,
To Him confeſt, thy charms are hid from Me.
Hygeia! Faireſt Nymph of Dian's train!
Ah! why by me ſo long purſued in vain!
Yet ſometimes at a diſtance, I ſurvey,
But dim, and thro' a cloud, thy paler ray.
I ſnatch the lucid interval, and ſoar
Awhile with ſwift-wing'd Fancy as of yore;
[105] The Muſes invocate, with zealous prayer,
Nor unpropitious do the Muſes hear;
Till the cloud thickening, veils thy beams in Night,
Fancy prone ſinks from her aerial height:
Pain whets his ſtings, their torpid force prevails,
The venom ſpreads, the mental ardour fails.
Still fly Hygeia! drooping Fancy fly!
A ſacred Power there is, forever nigh.
Love, in thy ſhape My Theſpia, ſtands unmoved;
Love ne'er deſerts what once it truly loved.
Sickneſs ſtill more forbids it's bonds to ſtart,
And pity ſoftens more it's tender heart:
A gentler, but more ſtrong attraction reigns;
And milder energies new-brace it's chains.
While then My Theſpia's looks each care be⯑guile,
While in her preſence pain and languor ſmile,
[106] While on the mind She pours an healing balm,
And binds it's tempeſts in an Halcyon calm,
Awakens hope, and baniſhes deſpair,
And tho' I feel, yet teaches Me to bear;
Still fly Hygeia! Thou too Fancy fly!
A ſtrengthening ſoul-inſpiring Power is nigh.
Let That, her influence; This, her ſtrains refuſe;
Thou ſhalt be Health my Theſpia, Thou the Muſe.
XXXI.
AT leaſt in plumes unborrow'd, I preſent
Theſe Elegies of Love to Theſpia's eye;
She hates with Me the florid ornament,
And gawdy Muſe, whoſe ſtrains her ſoul belie.
To Theſpia only, and the Few, whoſe taſte
Accords with Her's, the tender lays belong.
[107] Life's real ſcenes, domeſtic, ſimple, chaſte,
Form for the Vulgar no attractive ſong.
Envy might haſten to depreciate fame;
And Critics ſneer with many a low-bred jeſt,
Join with their groveling wit, her ſpotleſs name,
Studious t' affect with pain her modeſt breaſt.
They might perhaps with baſe illiberal art
Each weaker number cull, (for who can build
The perfect rhime?) and from the excepted part,
Pronounce the Whole with faults unſeemly fill'd.
Or hating Living Worth, ſome Author dead
Produce; his ſainted page contraſt with mine;
And think the wreathe muſt fade upon my head,
Becauſe his laurels, ſpite of Malice, ſhine.
[108]
Not thus, They would aver, Tibullus wove
His gentle ſong to Delia's matchleſs praiſe;
Not Hammond thus, the favour'd Prieſt of Love,
Taught by each Grace, pour'd his mellifluous lays.
Their Muſe, no doubt, entire Perfection crowns,
No little lapſe, no flaw we can eſpy.—
Inſenſible are They to Envy's frowns,
They do not live t' offend Detractions' eye.
No Bard I ſeek to rival in my ſtrain;
As Nature dictated, the Roman wrote;
Hammond in elegant and eaſy vein,
Hath ſweetly copied what Tibullus thought.
As Nature dictated with ſovereign will,
So roſe my thoughts, ſo flow'd my eaſy lay.
[109] The quick ſenſations fly from tardy ſkill,
Yet Elegance may move as ſwift as They.
For with the Sentiment, th' Expreſſion ſprings,
From the ſame lucid chamber of the Mind.
Coarſeneſs it's ſpeed muſt check, retract it's wings,
And hovering ound, long ſtrive to be refined.
But Theſpia ſmiles—She all the verſe in⯑ſpired;
Form'd each idea, ſees each feeling true.
Love is the only Judge to be deſired,
Where only Love the genuine portraits drew.
Hence then away, Ye mean Invidious Bands!
And the vile Croud, which iterates your voice!
Theſe ſtrains, my Theſpia, ſhall eſcape their hands;
Such is thy purer wiſh, and ſuch my choice.
[110]
Some Friends Alone, our faithful loves ſhall read,
Conſentient Minds, who cannot, will not blame;
From Envy, from each groſſer paſſion freed,
Whoſe thoughts are hallow'd, whoſe eſteem is Fame.
Appendix A Paſſages in the Firſt & Second Elegy of Tibullus, alluded to Page 73.
Appendix A.1 I.
Appendix A.1.1
DIVITIAS alius fulvo ſibi congerat auro,
Et teneat culti jugera magna ſoli:
Quem labor aſſiduus vicino terreat hoſte,
Martia cui ſomnos claſſica pulſa fugent.
Me mea paupertas vitae traducit inerti.
[111] Ipſe ſeram teneras maturo tempore vites
Ruſticus, et ſacili grandia poma manu.
Nec ſpes deſtituat, ſed frugum ſemper acervos
Praebeat.—
Nam veneror, ſeu ſtipes habet deſertus in agris,
Seu vetus in trivio florida ſerta lapis.
Appendix A.1.2
Sed canis aeſtivos ortus vitare ſub umbra
Arboris, ad rivos praetereuntis aquae.
Nec tamen interdum pudeat tenuiſſe bidentem,
Aut ſtimulo tardos increpuiſſe boves.
Non agnamve ſinu pigeat, foetumve capellae
Deſertum oblita matre referre domum.
At vos exiguo pecori fureſque lupique
Parcite.—
Appendix A.1.3
Parva ſeges ſatis eſt, parvo requieſcere lecto,
Si licet, et ſolito membra levare toro.
Quam juvat immites ventos audire cubantem
Et dominam tenero continuiſſe ſinu!
Aut gelidas hybernus aquas cum fuderit Auſter,
Securum ſomnos, imbre juvante, ſequi!
Hoc mihi contingat, ſit dives jure, furorem
Qui maris, et triſtes ferre poteſt pluvias.
O quantum eſt auri pereat—
Appendix A.1.4
Te ſpectem ſuprema mihi cum venerit hora,
Et teneam Moriens deficiente manu.
Flebis, et arſuro poſitum Me, Delia, lecto,
Triſtibus et lacrymis oſcula miſta dabis.
[112] Flebis: non tua ſunt duro praecordia ſerro
Vincta, nec in tenero ſtat tibi corde ſilex.
Illo non juvenis poterit de funere quiſquam
Lumina, non virgo ſicca referre domum
Tu Manes ne laede meos, ſed parce ſolutis
Crinibus, et teneris Delia parce genis.
Interea dum fata ſinunt jungamus amores;
Iam veniet tenebris mors adoperta caput.
Iam ſubrepet iners aetas, neo amare decebit,
Dicere nec cano blanditias capite.
Nunc levis eſt tractanda Venus, dum frangere poſtes
Non pudet, et rixas inſeruiſſe juvat.
Appendix A.1.5
Ferte et opes; ego compoſito ſecurus acervo
Deſpiciam dites.
Appendix A.2 II.
Appendix A.2.1
IPSE boves mea ſi tecum modo, Delia, poſſim
Iungere, et in folo paſcere monte pecus.
Et te dum liceat teneris retinere lacertis,
Mollis et inculta ſit mihi ſomnus humo.
Quid Tyrio recubare toro ſine amore ſecundo
Prodeſt, cum fletu nox vigilanda venit?
Nam neque tum plumae, nec ſtragula picta ſoporem,
Nec ſonitus placidae ducere poſſit aquae.
Notes
*
This Elegy, is principally imitated from the firſt of Tibullus.
- Citation Suggestion for this Object
- TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 5183 Poems to Thespia. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-5C3E-9