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Guardian and friend of the Moon, O Earth, whom IV. THE OVIDIAN ELEGIAC METRE DESCRIBED the Comets forget not,
AND EXEMPLIFIED. Yea, in the measureless distance wheel round, and in the hexameter rises the fountain's silvery column;
again they behold thee!
V. A VERSIFIED REFLECTION. dess! Was it not well with thee then, when first thy lap
[A Force is the provincial term in Cumberland for was ungirdled,
any narrow fall of water from the summit of a mounThy lap to the genial Heaven, the day that he wooed tain precipice. — The following stanza (it may not thee and won thee!
arrogate the name of poem) or versified reflection, Fair was thy blush, the fairest and first of the blushes was composed while the author was gazing on three of morning!
parallel Forces, on a moonlight night, at the foot of
the Saddleback Fell.-S. T. C.) Deep was the shudder, O Earth! the throe of thy
self-retention : July thou strovest to flee, and didst seek thyself at
On stern BLENCARTHUR's perilous height thy centre!
The wind is tyrannous and strong: Mightier far was the joy of thy sudden resilience ;
And flashing forth unsteady light and forth with
From stern Blencarthur's skiey height Myriad myriads of lives teemed forth from the mighty
As loud the corrents throng! . embracement, Thousand-fold tribes of dwellers, impelled by thou- Beneath the moon in gentle weather sand-fold instincts,
They bind the earth and sky together: Filled, as a dream, the wide waters: the rivers sang But oh! the Sky, and all its forms, how quiet! on their channels;
The things that seek the Earth, how full of noise Laughed on their shores the hoarse seas : the yearn. and riot!
ing ocean swelled upward : Young life lowed through the meadows, the woods,
and the echoing mountains, Wandered bleating in valleys, and warbled in blos
LOVE'S GHOST AND RE-EVANITION. soming branches.
AN ALLEGORIC ROMANCE.
Like a lone ARAB, old and blind,
Some caravan had left behind;
Who sits beside a ruin'd well,
Where the shy Dipsads* bask and swell! O, what a life is the Eye's ! what a strange and And now he cowers with low-hung head aslan, inscrutable essence!
And listens for some human sound in vain : Him, that is utterly blind, nor glimpses the fire that And now the aid, which Heaven alone can grant, warms him;
Upturns his eyeless face from Heaven to gain Him, that never beheld the swelling breast of his Even thus, in languid mood and vacant hour, mother;
Resting my eye upon a drooping plant, Him, that smiled in his gladness, as a babe that smiles with brow low-bent, within my garden bower, in its slumber;
I sale upon its couch of Camomile: Even for Him it exists! It moves and stirs in its And lo!-or was it a brief sleep, the while prison !
I watch'd the sickly calm and aimless scope Lives with a separate life; and "* Is it a Spirit?" of my own heart ?- saw the inmate, Hope, he murmurs :
That once had made that heart so warm, “Sure, it has thoughts of its own, and TO SEE is only
Lie lifeless at my feet! a language!"
And Love stole in, in maiden form,
Toward my arbor-seat!
She bent and kissed her sister's lips,
As she was wont to do:
Alas! 'l was but a chilling breath,
That woke enough of life in death
To make Hope die anew. billows, Nothing before and nothing behind but the sky and the ocean.
* The Asps of the sand-deserie, anciently named Dipsada
LIGHT-HEARTEDNESS IN RHYME. Thus long accustomed on the twy-fork'd hill,*
To pluck both flower and floweret at my will; "I expect no sense, worth listening to, from the man who
The garden's maze, like No-man's land, I tread, never dares talk nonsense."- Anon.
Nor common law, nor statute in my head;
With autocratic hand at once repealing
Five Acts of Parliament 'gainst private stealing! OR, THE FLOWER-THIEF'S APOLOGY, FOR A ROBBERY But yet from C-m, who despairs of grace?
COMMITTED IN MR. AND MRS. —'s GARDEN, ON There's no spring-gun nor man-trap in that face!
That look as if they had little else to do:
For C-m speaks.“ Poor youth! he's but a waif! "Fre, Mr. Coleridge! - and can this be you? Break two commandments ?—and in church-time too? Well, well, he shall not forfeit our regards —
The spoons all right? The hen and chickens safe? Have you not heard, or have you heard in vain,
The Eighth Commandment was not made for Bards !" The birth-and-parentage-recording strain ? Confessions shrill, that shrill cried mack'rel drownFresh from the drop—the youth not yet cut down
II. IN ANSWER TO A FRIEND'S QUESTION. Letter to sweet-heart—the last dying speech - Her attachment may differ from yours in degree, And did'nt all this begin in Sabbath-breach?
Provided they are both of one kind ; You, that knew better! In broad open day
But friendship, how tender so ever it be, Steal in, steal out, and steal our flowers away? Gives no accord to love, however refined. What could possess you? Ah! sweet youth, I fear, Love, that meets not with love, its true nature The chap with horns and tail was at your ear!"
revealing, Such sounds, of late, accusing fancy brought
Grows ashamed of itself, and demure : From fair C— to the Poet's thought.
If you cannot lift hers up to your state of feeling, Now hear the meek Parnassian youth's reply : You must lower down your state to hers. A box-a pleading look-a downcast eye — And then :
IJI. LINES TO A COMIC AUTHOR, ON AN ABU. « Fair dame! a visionary wight,
SIVE REVIEW. Hard by your hill-side mansion sparkling white, What though the chilly wide-mouth'd quacking His thought all hovering round the Muses' home,
chorus Long hath it been your Poet's wont to roam. From the rank swamps of murk Review-land croak: And many a morn, on his bed-charmed sense, So was it, neighbour, in the times before us, So rich a stream of music issued thence,
When Momus, throwing on his Attic cloak, He deem'd himself, as it flow'd warbling on, Romped with the Graces : and each tickled Muse Beside the vocal fount of Helicon!
(That Turk, Dan Phæbne, whom bards call divine, But when, as if to settle the concern,
Was married to - at least, he kept - all nine) – A nymph too he beheld, in many a turn,
They fled; but with reverted faces ran! Guiding the sweet rill from its fontal urn;
Yet, somewhat the broad freedoms to excuse, Say, can you blame ?—No! none, that saw and heard, They had allured the audacious Greek to use, Could blame a bard, that he, thus inly stirr’d, Swore they mistook him for their own Good Man. A muse beholding in each fervent trait,
This Momus — Aristophanes on earth Took Mary - for Polly Hymnia !
Men called him - maugre all his wit and worth, Or, haply as thou stood beside the maid
Was croaked and gabbled at. How, then, should you, One loftier form in sable stole arrayed,
Or I, Friend, hope to 'scape the skulking crew ? If with regretful thought he hail'd in thee,
No: laugh, and say aloud, in tones of glee, mm, his long-lost friend Mol Pomone ?
“I hate the quacking tribe, and they hate me!" Bat most of you, soft warblings, I complain! T was ye, that from the bee-hive of my brain
IV. AN EXPECTORATION,
OR SPLENETIC EXTEMPORE, ON MY JOYFUL DEPARTURE Thus all conspired-each power of eye and ear,
As I am Rhymer, And this gay month, th' enchantress of the year,
And now at least a merry one, To cheat poor me (no conjurer, God wot!)
Mr. Mum's Rudesheimer |
And the church of St. Geryon
* The English Parnassus is remarkable for its two summits All Nature daydreams in the month of May,
of unequal height, the lower denominated Hampstead, thing And if I pluck'd each flower that sweetest blows'- higher Highgate. Who walks in sleep, needs follow must his nose. + The apotheosis of Rhenish wine.
FROM THE CITY OF COLOGNE.
Are the two things alone
Yet haply there will come a weary day,
When over-task'd at length
Then with a statue's smile, a statue's strength,
Stands the mute sister, PATIENCE, nothing loth,
And both supporting does the work of both.
medio de fonte leporum Ye nymphs that reign o'er sewers and sinks,
Surgit amari aliquid.-Lucret.
JULIA was blest with beauty, wit, and grace :
Preferr'd their vows; yet all preferr'd in vain :
Till charming Florio, born to conquer, came,
And touch'd the fair one with an equal flame.
What every look and action would reveal.
With boldness then, which seldom fails to move, "T is not the lily brow I prize,
He pleads the cause of marriage and of love;
The course of hymeneal joys he rounds,
The fair one's eyes dance pleasure at the sounds.
Nought now remain'd but “ Noes" - how little
And the sweet coyness that endears consent
The strange misfortune, oh! what words can tell ?
Tell! ye neglected sylphs! who lap-dogs guard, TO A LADY'S QUESTION RESPECTING THE ACCOMPLISH: Why snatch'd ye not away your precious ward ? MENTS MOST DESIRABLE IN AN INSTRUCTRESS OF Why suffer'd ye the lover's weight to fall
On the ill-fated neck of much-loved Ball ?
The favorite on his mistress casts his eyes, O'er wayward childhood would'st thou hold firm rule, Gives a short melancholy howl, and — dies ! And sun thee in the light of happy faces;
Sacred his ashes lie, and long his rest! Love, Hope, and PATIENCE, these must be thy Graces, Anger and grief divide poor Julia's breast. And in thine own heart let them first keep school.
Her eyes she fix'd on guilty Florio first, Cor as old Atlas on his broad neck places
On him the storm of angry grief must burst. Heaven's starry globe, and there sustains it ; 80
That storm he fled :- he wooes a kinder fair, so these upbear the little world below
Whose fond affections no dear puppies share. of Education, PATIENCE, Love, and HOPE.
'T were vain to tell how Julia pined away; Methinks, I see them group'd in seemly show,
Unhappy fair, that in one luckless day The straiten'd arms upraised, the palms aslope
(From future almanacs the day be cross'd!) And robes that touching, as adown they flow,
At once her lover and her lap-dog lost! Distinctly blend, like snow embossd in snow.
1789. O part them never! If Hope prostrate lie,
Love too will sink and die. But Love is subtle, and will proof derive
I yet remain
To mourn the hours of youth (yet moum in vain) From her own life that Hope is yet alive. And bending o'er, with soul-transfusing eyes,
That fled neglected; wisely thou hast trod
The better path — and that high meed which God And the soft murmurs of the Mother Dove,
Assign’d to virtue tow'ring from the dust,
Shall wait thy rising, Spirit pure and just !
O God! how sweet it were to think, that all
Who silent mourn around this gloomy ball The German name of Cologne. of the eleven thousand virgin martyrs.
Might hear the voice of joy ;- but 't is the will D As Necessity is the mother of Jovention, and extremes of man's great Author, that through good and ill beget each other, the fact above recorded may explain how this Calm he should hold his course, and so sustain ancient town (which, alas! as sometimes happens with venison, has been kept ton long.) came to be the birth place of the His varied lot of pleasure, toil, and pain. nost fragrant of spiricuous fluids, the Eau de Cologne.
TO THE REV. W. I. HORT
That my mute thoughts are sad before his throne,
Prepared, when He his healing ray vouchsafes, Hush! ye clamorous cares, be mute!
Thanksgiving to pour forth with lifted heart, Again dear harmonist, again
And praise him gracious with a brother's joy! Through the hollow of thy flute
TO THE NIGHTINGALE.
SISTER of lovelorn poets, Philomel !
How many bards in city garrets pent, O skill'd with magic spell to roll
While at their window they with downward eye The thrilling tones that concentrate the soul ! Mark the faint lamp-beam on the kennell'd mud, Breathe through thy flute those tender notes again, And listen to the drowsy cry of the watchmen, While near thee sits the chaste-eyed maiden mild ; (Those hoarse unfeather'd nightingales of time !) And bid her raise the poet's kindred strain
How many wretched bards address the name, In soft impassion’d voice, correctly wild.
And hers, the full-orb'd queen, that shines above.
But I do hear thee, and the high bough mark, In freedom's undivided dell Where toil and health with mellow'd love shall dwell: Thou warblest sad thy pity-pleading strains.
Within whose mild moon-mellow'd foliage hid, Far from folly, far from men,
Oh, I have listen'd, till my working soul, In the rude romantic glen,
Waked by those strains to thousand phantasies, Up the cliff, and through the glade,
Absorb'd, hath ceased to listen! Therefore oft Wand'ring with the dear loved maid,
I hymn thy name ; and with a proud deliglot I shall listen to the lay
Oft will I tell thee, minstrel of the moon And ponder on the far away ;
Most musical, most melancholy bird ! Still as she bids those thrilling notes aspire,
That all thy soft diversities of tone, Making my fond attuned heart her lyre),
Though sweeter far than the delicious airs Thy honord form, my friend ! shall reappear, That vibrate from a white-arm'd lady's harp, And I will thank thee with a raptured tear!
What time the languishment of lonely love 1794.
Melts in her eye, and heaves her breast of snow
Are not so sweet, as is the voice of her,
My Sara — best beloved of human kind !
When breathing the pure soul of tenderness,
She thrills me with the husband's promised name ! Thus far my scanty brain hath built the rhyme
1794 Elaborate and swelling;- yet the heart Not owns it. From thy spirit-breathing powers I ask nol now, my friend! the aiding verse
TO SARA. Tedious to thee, and from thy anxious thought
The stream with languid murmur creeps Of dissonant mood. In fancy (well I know)
In Sumin's flow'ry vale ; From business wand'ring far and local cares
Beneath the dew the lily weeps,
Slow waving to the gale.
Cease, restless gale," it seems to say,
“ Nor wake me with thy sighing : 1, too, a sister had, an only sister
The honours of my vernal day She loved me dearly, and I doted on her ;
On rapid wings are flying. To her I pour'd forth all my puny sorrows; (As a sick patient in a nurse's arms)
“ To-morrow shall the traveller come, And of the heart those hidden maladies
That erst beheld me blooming ; That e'en from friendship's eye will shrink ashamed.
His searching eye shall vainly roam 0! I have waked ut midnight, and have wept
The dreary vale of Sumin." Because she was not !- Cheerily, dear Charles !
With eager gaze and wetted cheek Thou thy best friend shall cherish many a year ;
My wanton haunts along, Such warm presages feel Lof high hope !
Thus, lovely maiden, thou shalt seek
The youth of simplest song.
But I along the breeze will roll
The voice of feeble power, He knows (the Spirit that in secret sees,
And dwell, the moon-beam of thy soul, Of whose omniscient and all-spreading love
In slumber's nightly hour Anght to implore were impotence of mind !)
My gentle love! caressing and caressid,
With heaving heart shall cradle me to rest; If we except Lucretius and Statius, I know no Shed the warm tear-drop from her smiling eyes, Latin poet, ancient or modern, who has equalled Casi. Lull the fond woe, and med'cine me with sighs ; mir in boldness of conception, opulence of fancy, or While finely-flushing float her kisses meek, beauty of versification. The odes of this illustrious Like melted rubies, o'er my pallid cheek. Jesuit were translated into English about 150 years Chillid by the night, the drooping rose of May ago, by a G. Hils, I think. I never saw the transla- Mourns the long absence of the lovely day:
A few of the odes have been translated in a Young day returning at the promised hour, very animated manner by Watts. I have subjoined Weeps o'er the sorrows of the fav'rite flower,the third ode of the second Book, which, with the Weeps the soft dew, the balmy gale she sighs, exception of the first line, is an effusion of exquisite And darks a trembling lustre from her eyes. elegance. In the imitation attempted I am sensible New life and joy th' expanding flow'ret feels: that I have destroyed the effect of suddenness, by His pitying mistress mourns, and mourning heals' translating into two stanzas what is one in the original.
1796. 1796. AD LYRAM.
In my calmer moments I have the firmest faith that
all things work together for good. But, alas! it seems SONORA buxi filia sutilis,
a long and a dark process :-
The early year's fast-flying vapors stray
In shadowing train across the orb of day;
And we poor insects of a few short hours,
Deem it a world of gloom.
Were it not better hope, a nobler doom,
Proud to believe, that with more active powers,
On rapid many-colour'd wing,
Screen'd by those clouds, and cherish'd by those
COUNT RUMFORD'S ESSAYS.
THE solemn breathing air is ended
Cease, oh Lyre! thy kindred lay!
Glitter to the eye of day!
Softly sighs the summer wind :
By yon waterfall reclined.
Hark! I hear a deep'ning sound -
See! th' horizon blackens round!
Let me seize thy netted string!
Headlong, ever on the wing!
THESE, Virtue, are thy triumph, that adorn