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Led by the winged genius and the choir
Of laurell'd Science and Harmonious Art,
Proceed exulting to the eternal shrine,
Where Truth conspicuous with her sister-twins,
The undivided partners of her sway,
With Good and Beauty reigns. Olet not us,
Lull'd by luxurious Pleasure's languid strain,
Or crouching to the frowns of Bigot rage,
O let us not a moment pause to join
That godlike band. And if the gracious power.
Who first awaken'd my untutor'd song,
Will to my invocation breathe anew
The tuneful spirit; then through all our paths
Ne'er shall the sound of this devoted lyre
Be wanting: whether on the rosy mead,
When summer smiles, to warn the melting heart
Of Luxury's allurement, whether firm
Against the torrent and the stubborn hill
To urge bold Virtue's worenisted nerve,
And wake the strong divinity of soul
That conquerschance and fate; or whether struck
For sounds of triumph, to proclaim her toils
Upon the lofty sumigit, round her brow
To twine the wreath of incorruptive praise ;
To trace her hollow'd light thro' future worlds,
And bless heaven's image in the heart of man.
Thus with a faithful aim have we presum'd,
Adventurous, to delincate Nature's form;
Whether in vast, majestic pomp array'd,
Or drest for picasing wonder, or serene
In beauty's rosy smile. It now remains,
Through various being's fair-proportion'd scale,
To trace the rising lustre of her charms,
From their first twilight, shining forth at length
To full meridian splendor. Of degree
The least and lowliest, in the elusive warmth
Of colors mingling with a random blaze,
Doth Beauty dwell. Then higher in the line
And variation of determin'd shape,
Where Truth's eternal measures mark the bound
Of circle, cube, or sphere. The third ascent
Unites this varied symmetry of parts
With color's bland allurenient; as the pearl
Shines in the concave of its azure bed,
And painted shells indent their specled wreath,
Then more attractive rise the blooming fornis
Through which the breath of Nature has infus'd
Her genial power, to draw with pregnant veins
Nutritious moisture from the bounteous earth,
In fruit and seed prolific: thus the flowers
Their purple honors with the spring resume;
And such the stately tree with autunın bends
With blushing treasures. But more lovely still
Is Nature's charin, where to the full consent
Of complicated members, to the bloom
Of color and the vital change of growth,
By steps conducting our enraptur'd search
To that eternal origin, whose power,
Through all the unbounded symmetry of things,
Like rays effulging from the parent sun,
This endless mixture of her charms diffus'd.
Mind, mind alone (bear witness, earth and
The living fountains in itself contains
Of beauteous and sublime: here hand in hand
Sit paramount the Graces; here enthron'd
Celestial Venus, with divinest airs,
Invites the soul to never-fading joy.
Look then abroad through nature, to the range
Of plannets, suns, and adamantine spheres
Wheeling unshaken through the void immense;
And speak, O man! does this capacious scene
With half that kindling majesty dilate
Thy strong conception, as when Brutus rose
Refulgent from the stroke of Caesar's fate,
Ainid the crowd of patriot; and his arm
Aloft extending, like eternal Jove
When guilt brings down the thunder, call'daloud
On Tully's name, and shook his crimson steel,
And bade the father of his country, hail!
For lo! the tyrant prostrate on the dust,
And Rome again is free! Is aught to fair
In all the dewy landscapes of the spring,
In the bright eye of Hesper or the monii,
In nature's fairest forms, is aught so fair
As virtuous friendship? as the candid blush
Of him who strives with fortune to be just?
The graceful tear that streams for others' woes,
Or the mild majesty of private life,
Where Peace with eyer-blooming olive crowns
The gate; where Honor's liberal hands effuse
Unenvied treasures, and the snowy wings
Of Innocence and Love protect the scene?
Once more search, uudisney'd, the dark profound
Where Nature works in secret; view the beds
Of mineral treasure, and the eternal vault
That bounds the hoary ocean: trace the forms
Of atoms moving with incessant change
Their elemental round; behold the seeds
Of beings, and the energy of life
Kindling the mass with ever-active flame:
Then to the secrets of the working mind
Attemive turn; from dim oblivion call
Her fleet, ideal band; and bid them, go!
Break through time's barrier, and o'ertake the
That saw the heavens created; then declare
If aught were found in those external scenes
To move thy wonder now. For what are all
The forms which brute, uneonscious matter
Greatness of bulk, or symmetry of parts?
Life's holy flame and piercing sense are given,Not reaching to the heart, soon feeble grows
And active motion speaks the temper'd soul:
So moves the bird of Juno: so the steed
With rival ardor beats the dusty plain,
And faithful dogs with eager airs of joy
Salute their fellows. Thus doth Beauty dwell
There most conspicuous, even in outward shape,
Where dawns the high expression of a mind :
The superficial impulse; dull their charms,
And satiate soon, and pall the languid eye
Not so the moral species, nor the powers
Of genius and design; the ambitious mind
There sees herself: by these congenial forms
Touch'd and awaken'd, with intenser act
She bends each nerve, and meditates well pleas'd
Her features in the mirror. For of all
The inhabitants of earth, to man alone
Creative Wisdom gave to lift his eye
To Truth's eternal measures; thence to frame
The sacred laws of action and of will,
Discerning justice from unequal deeds,
And temperance from folly. But beyond
This energy of truth, whose dictates bind
Assenting reason, the benignant tire,
To deck the honor'd paths of just and good,
Has added bright Imagination's rays;
Where Virtue, rising from the awful depth
Of Truth's mysterious bosom, doth forsake
The unadorn'd condition of her birth;
And, dress'd by fancy in ten thousand hues,
Assumes a various feature, to attract,
With charms responsive to each gazer's eye,
The hearts of men. Amid his rural walk,
The ingenious youth whom solitude inspires
With purest wishes, from the pensive shade
Beholds her moving, like a virgin-Muse
That wakes her lyre to some indulgent theme
Of harmony and wonder: while among
The herd of servile minds, her strenuous form
Indignant flashes on the patriot's eye,
And through the rolls of memory appeals
To antient honor; or in act serene,
Yet watchful, raises the majestic sword
Of public power, from dark Ainbition's reach,
To guard the sacred volume of the laws.
Genius of antient Greece! whose faithful steps
Well pleas'd I follow through the sacred paths
Of nature and of science; nurse divine
Of all the heroic deeds and fair desires!
O! let the breath of thy extended praise
Inspire my kindling bosom to the height
Of this untempted theme. Nor be my thoughts
Presumptuous counted, if, amid the calun
That sooths this vernal evening to the smiles,
I steal impatient from the sordid haunts
Of strife and low Ambition, to attend
Thy sacred presence in the sylvan shade,
By their malignant footsteps ne'er profun'd.
Descend, propitious! to my favor'd eye;
Such in thy mien, thy warin, exalted air,
As when the Persian tyrant, foil'd and stung
With shame and desperation gnash'd his teeth
To see thee rend the pagents of his throne;
And at the lighting of thy lifted spear
Crouch'd like a slave. Bring all thy martial spoils,
Thy palins, thy laurels, thy triumphant songs,
Thy smiling band of arts, thy godlike sires
Of civil wisdom, thy heroic youth
Warm from the schools of glory.. Guide my way
Thro' fair Lyceum's walk, the green retreats
Of Academus, and the thymy vale,
Where oft, enchanted with Socratic sounds,
Ilissus pure devolv'd his tuneful stream
In geniler murmurs. From the blooming store
Of these auspicious fields, may I unblam'd
Transplant some living blossoms to adorn
My native clime: while, far above the flight
Of Fancy's plume aspiring, I unlock
The springs of antient wisdom; while I join
[Thy name, thrice honor'd! with the immortal
Of Nature; while to my compatriot youth 1 point the high example of thy sons, And tune to Attic themes the British lyre.
IN the barn the tenant Cock,
Close to Partlet perch'd on high,
Briskly crows (the shepherd's clock!)
Jocund that the morning's nigh.
Swiftly from the mountain's brow,
Shadows, nurs'd by night, retire:
And the peeping sun-beam, now,
Paints with gold the village spire.
Philomel forsakes the thorn,
Plaintive where she prates at night; And the Lark, to meet the morn,
Soars beyond the shepherd's sight. From the low-roof'd cottage ridge,
See the chatt'ring Swallow spring; Darting through the one-arch'd bridge, Quick she dips her dappled wing. Now the pine-tree's waving top Gently greets the morning gale: Kidlings now begin to crop Daisies, in the dewy dale. From the balmy sweets, uncloy'd, (Restless 'till her task be done) Now the busy bee's employ'd, Sipping dew before the sun. Trickling through the crevic'd rock, Where the limpid stream distils, Sweet refreshment waits the flock When 'tis snn-drove from the hills. Colin, for the promis'd corn
(Ere the harvest hopes are ripe). Anxious, hears the huntsman's horn, Boldly sounding down his pipe. Sweet,--O sweet, the warbling throng, On the white emblossom'd spray ! Nature's universal song
Echoes to the rising day.
Echo în her airy round,
O'er river, rock and hill, Cannot catch a single sound,
Save the clack of yonder mill.
Cattle court the zephers bland,
Where the streamlet wanders cool;
Or with languid silence stand
Midway in the marshy pool.
But from mountain, dell, or stream,
Not a flutt'ring zephyr springs;
Fearful lest the noon-tide beam
Scorch its soft, its silken wings.
Not a leaf has leave to stir,
Nature's lull'd-sèrene—and still; Quiet e'en the shepherds cur,
Sleeping on the heath-clad hill.
Languid is the landscape round,
'Till the fresh descending shower,
Grateful to the thirsty ground,
Raises ev'ry fainting flower.
Now the hill-the hedge-is green,
Now the warblers' throats in tune!
Blithsome is the verdant scene,
Brighten'd by the beans of Noon!
O'ER the heath the heifer strays Free;-(the furrow'd task is done) Now the village windows blaze, Burnish'd by the setting sun. Now he hides behind the hill, Sinking from a golden sky; Can the pencil's mimic skill Copy the refulgent dye? Trudging as the ploughinen go, (To the smoking hamlet bound) Giant-like their shadows grow, Lengthen'd o'er the level ground. Where the rising forest spreads, Shelter for the lordly dome! To their high-built airy beds See the rooks returning home! As the Lark with varied tune,
Carols to the evening loud; Mark the mild resplendent moon Breaking through a parted cloud! Now the hermit Howlet peeps
From the barn, or twisted brake; And the blue mist slowly creeps, Curling on the silver lake. As the Trout, in speckled pride, Playful on its bosom springs; To the banks in ruffled tide Verges in successive rings. Tripping through the silken grass, O'er the path-divided dale, Mark the rose-complexion'd lass, With her well-pois'd milking pail.
Linnets, with unnumber'd notes,
And the Cuckoo bird with two,
Tuning sweet their mellow throats,
Bid the setting sun adieu.
$37. The Contemplatist : a Night Piece. Cunningham.
THE Queen of Contemplation, Night,
Begins her balmy reign;
Advancing in their varied light
Her silver-vested train.
'Tis strange the many marshall'd stars,
That ride yon sacred round,
Should keep among their rapid cars,
A silence so profound!
A kind, a philosophic calm,
The cool creation wears!
And what day drank of dewy balm,
The gentle Night repairs.
Behind their leafy curtains hid,
The feather'd race how still!
How quiet now the gamesome kid,
That gambol'd round the hill!
The sweets, that, bending o'er their banks,
From sultry Day declin'd,
Revive in little velvet ranks,
And scent the western wind.
The Moon, preceded by the breeze
That bade the clouds ritire,
Appears among the tufted trees,
A Phoenix next on fire.
But soft-the golden glow subsides!
Her chariot mounts on high !
And now, in silver'd pomp, she rides
Pale regent of the sky!
Where Time upon the wither'd tree
Hath carv'd the moral chair,
I sit from busy passions free,
And breathe the placid air.
The wither'd tree was once in prime;
Its branches brav'd the sky!
Thus, at the touch of ruthless Time,
Shall Youth and Vigor die.
I'm lifted to the blue expanse:
It glows serenely gay !
Come, Science, by my side advance,
We'll search the Milky Way.
Let us descend-The daring flight
Fatigues my feeble mind:
And science in the maze of light,
Is impotent and blind.
What are those wild, those wand'ring fires,
That o'er the moorland ran?
Vapors.-How like the vague desires
That cheat the heart of man!
But there's a friendly giude!—a flame,
That, lambent o'er its bed,
Enlivens, with a gladsome beam,
The hermit's osier shed
That branching grove of dusky green
Conceals the azure sky;
Save where a starry space between
Relieves the darken'd eye.
Old Error, thus, with shades impure,
Throws sacred Truth behind:
Yet sometimes, through the deep obscure,
She bursts upon the mind.
Sleep, and her sister Silence reign,
They lock the shepherd's fold!
But hark hear a lamb complain,
"Tis lost upon the wold!
To savage herds, that hunt for prey,
An unresisting prize!
For having trod a devious way,
The little rambler dies.
As luckless is the Virgin's lot,
Whom pleasure once misguides:
When hurried from the halcyon cot,
Where Innocence presides-
The passions, a relentless train!
To tear the victim, run:
She seeks the paths of peace in vain,
Is conquer'd - and undone.
How bright the little insects blaze,
Where willows shade the way,
As proud as if their painted rays
Could emulate the Day!
'Tis thus the pigmy sons of pow'r
Advance their vain parade!
Thus glitter in the darken'd hour,
And like the glow-worms fade!
The soft serenity of night
Ungentle clouds deform!
The silver host that shone so bright,
Is hid behind a storm!
The angry elements engage!
An oak (an ivied bower!)
Repels the rough wind's noisy rage,
And shields me from the shower.
The rancor, thus, of rushing fate
I've learnt to render váin :
For, whilst Integrity's her seat,
The soul will sit serene.
A raven, from some greedy vault,
Amidst that cloister'd gloom,
Bids me, and 'tis a solemn thought!
Reflect upon the tomb.
The tomb The consecrated dome!
The temple rais'd to Peace!
The port, that to its friendly home
Compels the human race!
Yon village, to the moral mind,
A solemn aspect wears;
Where sleep hath lol'd the labor'd hind,
And kill'd his daily cares:
'Tis but the church-yard of the Night; An emblematic bed!
That offers to the mental sight
The temporary dead.
From hence, I'll penetrate in thought,
The grave's unmeasur'd deep;
And tutor'd hence, be timely taught
To meet my final sleep.
'Tis peace (the little chaos past!)
The gracious moon restor'd!
A breeze succeeds the frightful blast,
That through the Forest roar'd!
The Nightingale, a welcome guest!
Renews her gentle strains;
And Hope (just wand'ring from my breast) Her wonted scat regains.
Sounds that move smoother than the steps of ease,
And pour oblivion in the car of pain.
In this fair vale eternal spring shall smile,
And Time unenvious crowus the roscate hour;
Eternal joy shall every care beguile,
Breathe in each gale, and bloom in every flower. The silver stream, that down its crystal way Frequent has led thy musing steps along, Shall, still the same, its funny mazes play,
And with its murmurs melodise thy song. Unfading green shall these fair groves adorn; Those, living meads immortal flowers unfold; In rosy smiles shall rise each blushing morn, And every evening close in clouds of gold. The tender Loves that watch thy slumbering rest, And round thee flowers and balmy myrtles
Shall charm, thro'all approaching life, thy breast,
With joys for ever pure, for ever new.
The genial power that speeds the golden dart,
Each charm of tender passion shall inspire;
With fond affection fill the mutual heart,
And feed the flame of ever-young Desire. Come, gentle Loves! your myrtle garlands bring: The smiling bower with cluster'd roses spread; Come gentle airs! with incense-dropping wing The breathing sweets of vernal odor shed. Hark, as the strains of swelling music rise,
How the notes vibrate on the fav'ring gale! Auspicious glories beam along the skies, And powers unseen the happy moments hail! Ecstatic hours! so every distant day,
Like this, serene on downy wings shall move; Rise crown'd with joys that triumph o'er decay, The faithful joys of Fancy and of Love."
AND were they vain, those soothing lays ye sung? Children of Fancy! yes, your song was vain; On each soft air though rapt Attention hung, And Silence listen'd on the sleeping plain. The strains yet vibrate on my ravish'd ear,
And still to smile the inimic beauties seem, Though now the visionary scenes appear
Like the faint traces of a vanish'd dream. Mirror of life: the glories thus impart
Of all that Youth and Love and Fancy frame, When painful Anguish speeds thepiercing dart, Or Envy blasts the blooming flowers of Fame. Nurse of wild wishes, and of fond desires,
The prophetess of Fortune, false and vain, To scenes where Peace in Ruin's arnis expires, Fallacious Hope deludes her hapless train. Go, Syren, go- thy charms on others try; My beaten bark at length has reach'd the shore; Yet on the rock my dropping garments lic; And let me perish, if I trust thee more. Come, gentle Quiet! long-neglected maid! O coine, and lead me to thy mossy cell;
Then shall the cares of love and glory cease,
And all the fond anxieties of fame;
Alike regardless in the arms of Peace,
If these extol, or those debase a name.
In Lyttleton though all the Muses praise,
Nor the sweet magic of his tender lays
His generous praise shall then delight no more,
Shall touch the bosom which it charm'd before. Nor then, tho' Malice, with insidious guise
Of friendship, ope the unsuspecting breast; Nor then, tho' Envy broach her blackening lies, Shall these deprive me of a moment's rest. O state to be desir'd! with hostile rage When man with man eternal war will wage, Prevails in human more than savage haunts; And never yield that mercy which he wants: When dark design invades the cheerful hour, And draws the heart with social freedom warm, Its cares, its wishes, and its thoughts to pour,
Smiling insidious with the hopes of harm. Vain man, to others' failings still severe,
Another's faults to Folly's eyes are clear,
Yet not one foible in himself can find;
But to her own e'en Wisdom's self is blind. O let me still, from these low follies free, This sordid malice, and inglorious strife, Myself the subject of my censure be,
And teach my heart to comment on my life. With thee, Philosophy, still let me dwell, My tutor'd mind from vulgar meanness save; Bring Peace, bring Quiet to iny humble cell, And bid them lay the green turf on my grave.
BRIGHT o'er the green hills rose the morning ray,
The wood-lark's song resounded on the plain, Fair nature felt the warm embrace of day,
And sinil'd through all her animated reign. When young Delight,of Hope and Fancy born His head on tufted wild thyme half-reclin'd, Caught the gay colors of the orient morn,
And thence of life this picture vain design'd: "O born to thoughts, to pleasures more sublime Than beings of inferior nature prove! To triumph in the golden hours of Time, And feel the charms of fancy and of love!