Page images

Vain hope-thirrevocable doom is past, Again with transport hear
Evin now the lcoks—the sighs her latt- Her voice soft whispering in my ear;
Vainly I strive to ttay her fleeting breath, May steal once more a balmy kiss,
And, with rebellious heart, protest against her And taste at lealt of vitionary bliss.

But,ah! th’unwelcome morn's obtruding light When the stern tyrant closd her lovely eyes, Will all my fhadowy schemes of bliss depose,

How did I rave, untauglit to bear the blou! Will tear the dear illusion from my sight, With impious wish to tear her from the skies, And wake me to the sense of all my woes:

How curle my fate in bitterness of woe! If to the verdant fields I stray,
But whither would this dreadful phrenry Alas! what pleasures now can these convey
Fund man forbear,

[lead? Her lovely form pursues where'er I gc,
Thy fruitless forrow spare,


And darkens all the scene with woe. Dare not to alk what Heaven's high will de-By Nature's lavish bounties cheer'd no more, In humble rev'rence kiss th' affidrive rod,

Sorrowing I rove And proftrate bow to an offended God.

Through valley, grot, and grove; Pertaps kind heaven in mercy dealt the blow, No herb, no plant, can medicine my diseale,

Nought can their beauties or my loss restore; Some faving truth thy roving foul to teach ; And my fad tighs are borne on ev'ry passing Towean thy heart from grovelling views below,

breeze. And point out bliss beyond misfortune's reach:

Sickness and sorrow hov'ring round my bed, To shew that all the Aatt'ring schemes of joy,

Who now with anxious haite shall bring relief, Which tow'ring Hope fo fondly builds in air, With lenient hand support my drooping bead, One fatal moment can destroy,

Assuage my pains, and mitigate my griet? And plunge th' exulting maniac in despair. Should worldly business call away, Then, oh! with pious fortitude sustain

Who now shall in my absence tondly mourn Thy present lors-haply thy future gain; Count ev'ry minute of the loit'ring day, Nor let thy Emma die in vain :

Impatient for my quick return? Time shall administer its wonted balm, (calm. Should ought my botom discompose, And huth this storm of grief to no unpleasing

Who now, with sweet coinplacent air, Thus the poor bird, by some disastrous fate

Shall fmooth the rugged brow of Care,

And sofren ali my woes?
Caught, and imprison'd in a lonely cage,
Turn from its native fields, and dearer mate,

Too faithful Memory--ceale, oh ceale

How shall I e'er regain my peace?
Flutters awhile, and spends its little rage:
But finding all its efforts weak and vain,

(Oh, to forget her!)---but how vain each art, No more it pants and rages for the plain;

Whilst ev'ry virtus lives imprinted on my heart! Moping awhile, in suilen mood

And thou, my little cherub, left behind, Droops the sweet mourner--but ere long To hear a father's plaints, to share iis woes, Prunes its light wings, and pecks its food, When reason's dawn informs t'iy infant mind, And ineditates the tong:

And thy sweet lispingtonguelhallafkthecaule, Serenely forrowing, breathes its piteous cafe, How oft with forrow ihall mine eyes run o'er, And with its plaintive warblings laddens all When, twining round my knees, I trace the place.

Thy mother's Imile upon thy face! Forgive me, Heaven-yet,yet the tears will flow, How oit to my full heart thalt ihou restore To think how foon my scene of bliss is paft!

Sad memory of my juy:--ah, now no more! My budding joys, just promising to blow,

By bleflings once enjoy d now more distressid, All nipp d and wither'd by one envious blast!

More beggar by the riches once potiets d,
My hours, that laughing wont to feet away,

My little darling!-learer to me crown
Move heavily along;

By all the tears thou'st caus’d-oh strange

(tong? Where's now the prightly jeft,the jocund Bought with a life yet dearer tha: thy own,

to hear! Time creeps, unconscious of delight: How shall I cheat the tedious day;

Thy cradle purchas'd with thy inother's bier: And oh-the joyiels night!

Who now shall seek, with fond delight, Where thall I reft my weary head?

Thy infant steps to guiile aright? How shall I find repole on a fad widow'd bed?

She, who with doating eyes would gaze

On all thy little artlets w.dys, Come Theban drug*, the wretch's only aid, By all thy soft endearments bleft,

To my corn heart its former peace reitore; And clasp thée oft with traniport to her breast, Thy votary, wrapp'd in thy Lethean thade, Alas! is gone-yet that thou prove

Awhile ihall cease his forrows to deplore : A father's dearest, tendert li love; Hapiy, when lock'd in ileep's embrace, And, o sweet lenteless smiler, (envied state!) Again I fall behold my Emma's face, As yet upconscious of thy baple's tate, * Ludanum.


When years thy judgment shall mature, Tell me, thou Syren Hope, deceiver, fay, And Reason thews those ilis it cannot cure, Where is the promis'd period of my woes ?

Wilt thou, a father's grief t' assuage, Full three long ling'ring years have roll’daway, For virtue prove the Phænix of the earth And yet I weep a stranger to repose: (Like her, thy mother died to give thee birth) O wliat delulion did thy tongue employ! And be the comfort of my age ?

“ That Emma's fatal pledge of love, When fick and languishing I lie,

“Her last bequest, with all a mother's care, Wilt thou my Emma's wonted care supply?

“ Thé bitterness of sorrow should remove, And oft as to thy listening ear

“ Soften the horrors of despair, Thy mother's virtues and her fate I tell,

“ And cheer a heart long lost to joy!" Say wilt thou drop the tender tear,

How oft, when fondling in my arms, Whilft on the mournful theme I dwell?

Gazing en raptur'd on its angel-face, Then, fondly stealing to thy father's side,

My soul the maze of Fate would vainly trace, Whene'er thou seest the soft distress,

And burn with all a father's fond-alarms! Which I would vainly seek to hide,

And oh what flatt'ring scenes had fancy feign'd! Say, wilt thou strive to make it less?

How did I rave of blessings yet in store! To 1ooth my sorrows all thy cares employ.

Till ev'ry aching sense was sweetly pain d, And in my cup of grief infuse one drop of joy?

And my full heart could bear, nor tongue

could utter more.

Just Heaven!" I cried, with recent hopes elate, $ 105. An Evening Address to a Nightingale. «So long bow'd down beneath the formsoffate;

“ Yet will Ilive-will live, tho'Emma's dead: .

“Yet will I raise my woe-dejected head! Sweet bird! that, kindly perching near, “ My little Emma, now my all,

Pourest thy plaints melodious in mine ear; " 'Will want a father's care; Nut, like bale worldlings, tutor'd to forego “Her looks, her wants, my rash resolves recall, The melancholy haunts of woe;

“ And, for her fake, the ills of life I'll bear: Thanks for thy forrow-Soothing strain : “ And oft together we 'll complain, For, surely, thou hast known to prove, Complaint the only bliss my soul can know: Like me, the pangs of hapless love; “ From me my child' shall learn the mournful Else why so feelingly complain, [gruve?

“ strain, And with thy piteous notes thus fadden all the “ And prattle tales of woe. Say, dost thou mourn thy ravish'd mate,

And, oh! in that auspicious hour, That oft enamour'd on thy strains has hung? “ When Fate resigns her persecuting pow'r, Or has the cruel hand of Fate

« With duteous zeal her band shall clole, Bereft thee of thy darling young?

“No more to weep, my sorrow-streaming eyes, Alas! for both I weep :

“ When death gives misery repose, In all the pride of youthful charıns,

“ And opes a glorious passage to the skies." A beauteous bride torn from my circling arms! A lovely babe, that should have liv'd to ble's,

Vain thought! it must not be the too is dead, And áll my doating eyes with frequent tears, My hopes for ever, ever fled;

The flattering scene is o'er ;
At once the source of rapture and distress,
The Aattering prop of my declining years !

And vengeance can no more.
In vain from death to rescue I eslay'd,

Crush'd by misfortune, blafted by disease, By ev'ry art that science could devise ;

And none-none left to bear a friendly part! Alas! it languish'd for a mother's aid,

To meditate my welfare, health, or ease, And wing'd its flight to seek her in the skies.

Or footh the anguish of an aching heart! Then, oh! our comforts be the same,

Now all one gloomy scene, till welcome death, At evening's peaceful hour,

With lenient hand (oh falsely deem'd fevere), To thun the noisy paths of wealth and fame,

Shall kindly stop my grief.exhausted breatli, And breathe our sorrows in this lonely Perhaps, obsequious to my will,

And dry up ev'ry tear. bow'r. But why, alas! to thee complain,

But, ah! from my affections far remov'd! To thee-unconscious of my pain ?

The last fad office strangers may fulfil, Soon shalt thou cease to mourn thy lot severe,

As if I ne'er had been belov'd; And hail the dawning of a happier year:

As if unconscious of poetic fire, The genial warmth of joy renewing spring

I ne'er had touch'd the trembling lyre ; Again thall plume thy matter'd wing;

As if my niggard hand ne'er dealt relief, Again thy little heart shall transport prove,

Nor my heart melted at another's grief. Again shall now thy notes responsive to thy Yet, while this weary life Thall last, But, oh! for me in vain may seasons roll,[love. While yet my tongue can form th’impallion'd

Nought can dry up the fountain of my tears: ftrain, Deploring Itill the comfort of my soul,

In piteous accents Mall the muse complain, I count my sorrows by increasing years.

And dwell with fond delay on blessings paft:

For oh, how grateful to a wounded heart Fir'd with a zeal peculiar, they defy
The tale of misery to impart!

The rage and rigour of a polar sky,
From others' eyes bid artless sorrows flow, And plant successfully sweet Sharon's rose

And raise esteem upon the base of woe! On icy plains, and in eternal Inows.
Iv'o He*, the noblest of the tuneful throng, Oh, blelt within th' inclosure of your rocks,

Shall deign my love-lorn tale to hear, Nor herds have ye to boast, nor bleating flocks; Suall catch the loft contagion of my song. No fertilizing streams your fields divide. And pay my pensive Muse the tribute of a tear. That shew revers’d the villas on their fide;

No groves have ye; no cheerful sound of bird,

Or voice of turtle, in your land is heard; § 106. An Ode to Narcissa. SM01.LET.

Nor grateful eglantine regales the smell

Uf those that walk at ev'ning where you dwell: I bow before thine altar, Love!

But winter, arm'd with terrors here unknown, I feel thy soft refiftless flame

Sits absolute on his unshaken throne ; Glide fwift thro' all my vital frame !

Piles up his stores amidst the frozen waste, For while I gaze my bosom glows,

And bids the mountains he has built stand fast; My blood in tides iinpetuous flows;

Beckons the legions of his storms away Hope, fear, and joy, alternate roll,

From happier scenes, to make your land a prey; And foods of transport whelin my soul! Proclaims the soil a conquest he has won,

And scorns to share it with the distant fun. My fault'ring tongue attempts in vain In soothing murmurs to complain ;

Yet truth is yours, remote, unenvied ifle; My tongue fome secret magic ties,

And peace, the genuine offspring of her smile : My murmurs sink in broken lighs!

The pride of letter'd ignorance, that binds

In chains of error our accomplish'd minds; Condemnd to nurse eternal care,

That decks with all the splendour of the true And ever drop the silent tear;

A false religionis unknown to you. Unheard I mourn, unknown I figli,

Nature indeed vouchsafes for our delight Unfriended live, unpitied die !

The sweet viciffitudes of day and night;

Soft airs and genial moisture feed and cheer $107. Elegy in Imitation of Tibullus. SMOLLET. Field, fruit, and flow'r, and ev'ry creature here;

But brighter beams than his who fires the skies WHERE now are all my fatt’ring dreams of Have ris'n at length on your admiring eyes,

That Moot into your darkest caves the day Monimia, give my soul her wonted rest: From which our nicer optics turn away. Since firft iby beauty fix'd my roving eye, Heart-gnawing cares corrode my pensive breast. $109. On Slavery, and the Slave Trade. Cowper. Let happy lovers fly where pleasures call,


ah! what wilh can prosper, or what With festive songs beguile the fleeting hour,

pray'r, Lead beauty thro' the mazes of the ball,

For merchants, rich in cargoes of despair, Or press her wanton in love's roseate bow'r.

Who drive a loathsome traffic, gage and span, For me, no more I'll range th’empurpled mead, The tender ties of father, husband, friend,

And buy the muscles and the bones of man? Where shepherds pipe and virgins dance around, All bonds of nature in that moment end; Nor wander thro' the woodbine's fragrant shade, And each endures, while yet he draws his breath, To hear the music of the grove resound.

A stroke as fatal as the scythe of death.
I'll seek fome lonely church, or dreary hall, The fable warrior, frantic with regret
Where fancy paints the glimm'ring taper blue, of her he loves, and never can forget,
Where damps hang mould'ring on the ivy'd wall, Loses in tears the far recedding shore,
And theeted gholts drink up the midnight dew! But not the thought, that they must meet no
Awhile in ilence o'er my fate repine: (pair, Yes, to deep fadness fullenly refign'd,
There, leagu'd with hopeless anguish and der- Depriv'd of her and freedom at a blow, (more.

What has he left that he can yet forego ?"
Then, with a long farewel to love and care,
To kindred duft my weary limbs conlign.

He feels his body's bondage in his mind;

Puts off his gen'rous nature, and to fuit Wilt thou, Monimia, shed a gracious tear His manners with his fate, puts on the brute. On the cold grave where all my sorrows rest; Oh most degrading of all ills that wait Strew vernal How'rs, applaud my love fincere, on man, a mourner in his best eftate ! And bid the turf lie easy on my breaft? All other sorrows virtue may endure,

And find submission more than half a cure; $ 108. The Propagation of tbe Gospel in Greenland. Grief is itself a med'cine, and bestow'd

CowPER. T'improve the fortitude that bears a load; A Xpeftill it spreads. See Germany fend forth To teach the wand'rer, as his woes increase, Her fons, to pour it on the farthest northt: The path of wisdom, all whose paths are peace.

* Lord Lyttleton:
+ The Moravian missionaries in Greenland; Vide Krantz.


But Nav'ry!--virtue dreads it as her grave; To quit the bliss thy rural scenes bestow
Patience itief is meanness, in a llave : Toléck a nobler, amidit scenes of woe; [home,
Or if i e will and fovereignty of God To traverse seas, range kingdoms, and bring
Bid suffer it awhile, and kits the rod; Not the proud monuments of Greece or Rome,
Wait for the dawning of a brighter day, But knowledge, such as only dungeons teach,
And Inap the chain the moment when you may. And only sympathy like thine could reach;
Nature imprints upon whate'er we fee, That grief, Sequefter'd from the public stage,
That has a heart, and life in it, Be free! Might smooth her feathers, and enjoy her cage
The besits are charter'd-neither age nor force Speaks a divine ambition, and a zeal
Can quell the love of freedom in a horse: The boldest patriot might be proud to feel,
He breaks the cord that held him at the rack, Oh that the voice of clamour and debate,
And, conscious of an unencumber'd back, That pleads for peace till it disturbs the state,
Snuffs up the morning air, forgets the rein, Were huth'd, in favour of thy gen'rous plea,
Loole fly his forelock and his ample mane; The poor thy clients, and Heaven's smile thy fee!
Responsive to the distant neigh he neighs,
Nor stops till, overleaping all delays,

Ś 111. On Domestic Happiness, as the friend of He finds the palture where his fellows graze. Virtue; and of tbe falje Good-nature of the


COWPER. $110. On Liberty, and in Praise of Mr. Howard.


OMESTIC happiness, thou only bliss

COWPER. Of Paradise that has surviv'd the fall! 04 could I worship ought beneath the skies Tho' few now taste thee unimpair'd and pure,

That earth bath seen, or fancy could devise, Or, tasting, long enjoy thee; too infirm Thine altar, facred Liberty, should stand, Or too incautious to preserve thy sweets Built by no mercenary, vulgar hand. Unmix'd with drops of bitter, which neglect With fragrant turf, and How'rs as wild and fair Or temper sheds into thy chirystal cup: As ever dreis’d a bank, or scented summer air. Thou art the nurse of virtue. In thine arms Duly as ever on the mountain's height She smiles, appearing, as in truth the is, The peep of morning shed a dawning light; Heaven-born, and destin’d to the skies again

. Again, when evening in her fober velt

Thou art not known where Pleasure is adord, Drew tlie grey curtain of the fading Weft; That reeling goddess with the zoneless wait My soul thould yield thee willing thanks and And wand'ring eyes, still leaning on the arm For the chief blellings of my faireft days: (praise of Novelty, lier hckle, frail support; But that were sacrilegc-praise is not thine, For thou art meek and constant, hating change, But his who gave thee, and preserves thee mine: And finding in the calm of truth-tied love Else I would say, and as I ipake bid fiy Joys that her stormy raptures never yield. A captive bird into the boundless sky, Forsaking thee, whát thipwreck have we made This triple realm adores thee-thou art come Of honour, dignity, and fair renown, From Sparta hither, and art here at home; Till prostitution elbows us aside We feel thy force still active, at this liour In ali our crowded streets, and senates seem Enjoy immunity from prieitly pow'r; Conven'd for purposes of empire less While conscience, happier than in ancient years, Than to release th' adult'ress from her bond! Owns no superior but the God the fears. Th'adult'ress! what a theme for angry verse, Propitious Spirit! yet expunge a wrong What provocation to the indignant heart Thy rites have suffer'd, and our land, too long; That feels for injur'd love! But I disdain Teach mercy to ten thoufand hearts that thare The nauseous taik to paint her as she is, The fears and hopes of a coinmercial care: Cruel, abandon’d, glorying in her shame. Prisons expect the wicked, and were built No. Let her país; and, charioted along, To bind the lawless, and to punish guilt; In guilty fplendour thake the public ways: But shipwreck, earthquake, battle, fire, and flood, The frequency of crimes has wath d them white Are mighty mischiefs, not to be withstood: And verle of mine thall never brand the wretch And honeit merit stands on flipp'ry ground Whom matrons now, of character un imirch'da Where covert guile, and artifice abound: And chalte themselves, are not asham'd to own, Let just restraint, for public peace design, Virtue and vice had bound'ries in old time Chain up the wolves and tigers of mankind; Not to be pass'd; and the that had renounc'd The foe of virtue has no claim to thee, Her sex's honour, was renounc'd herself But let insolvent innocence go free. By all that priz'd it; not for Prudery's sake,

Patron of else the moft deipis'd of men, But Dignity's resentful of the wrong. Accept the tribute of a stranger's per ; 'Twas hard, perhaps, on here and there a waif Verse, like the laurel, its immortal m.cent, Desirous to return, and not receiv'd; Should be the guerdon of a noble deed: But was an wholesome rigour in the main, I may alarm thee, but I fear the shame And taught th' unhjemiind to preserve with (Charity chofen as my theme and aim) That purity, whose loss was loss of all. I must incur, forgetting Howard's name. Men too were nice in honour in those days, Bles with all wealth can give thee-to resign And judgd offenders well: and he that diaspid Jnys, doubly sweet to feelings Grick as thine; And pocketed a prize by fraud obtain'd,



Was mark'd, and shunn’das odious. He that fold Bedrides the wint’ry flood, in which the moon
His country, or was slack when she requir'd Sees her unwrinkled face reflected bright,
His er’y nerve in action and at ítretch, He comes, the heraid of a noily world, [locks,
Paid with the blood that he had basely spar'd With Ipatter'd boots, strapp'd waist, and frozen
The price of his default. But now,yes, now, News from all nations lumb'ring at his back.
We are become so candid and so fair,

True to his charge, the close-pack'd load behind
So liberal in construction, and so rich Yet careless what he brings, his one concern
In Christian charity, a good-natur'd age ! Is to conduct it to the deltin'd inn;
Tiiat they are safe: finners of either sex (bred, And, having dropp'd th' expected hig, pass on.
Transgress what laws they may.Welldress d,well He whittles as he goes, light-hearted wretch,
Well equipag'd, is ticket good enough Cold, and yet cheerful; messenger of grief
To pass us readily through ev'ry door. Perhaps to thousands, and of joy to some ;
Hypocrisy, deteit her as we may,

To him indiff'rent whether grief or joy. (And no man's hatred ever wrong'a her yet) Houses in alhes, and the fall of stocks, May claim this merit still, that the admits Births, deaths, and marriages, epuiles wet The worth of what the mimics with such care, With tears that trickled down the writer's cheeks And thus gives virtue indirect applause : Fast as the periods from his fluent quill, Bat she has burnt her masks, not needed here, Or charg‘d with am'rous sighs of absent (wains, Where vice has such allowance, that her shifts Or nymphs responsive, equally affect And specious semblances have lost their use. His horse and lim, unconscious of them all.

But oh th' important budget! uther'd in $112. On the Employments of what is called an With such heart-thaķing music, who can say Idle Lije.

Cowper. What are its tidings: have our troups awikid! How various his employments whom the world Or do they dill

, as if with opium drusgd,

thwave ? Efteems that busy world an idler too!

Is India free? and does she wear her plum'd Friends, books, a garden, and perhaps his pen, And jewell'd turban with a smile of peace, Delightful induitry enjoy'd at home,

Or do we grind her still ? The grand debate, And nature in her cultivated trim

The popular harangue, the tart reply, Dressid to his taste, inviting him abroad The logic, and the wisdom, and the wit, Can be want occupation who has thele? And the loud laugh-I long to know them all; Will he be idle who has much t' enjoy? I burn to let th' imprison'd wranglers free, Nie therefore, ftudious of laborious ease, And give them voice and utt'rance once again. Not Nothful; happy to deceive the time, Now itir the fire, and close the shutters tait, Nor waste it, and aware that human life Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round, Is but a loan to be repaid with use,

And while the bubbling and lou l-hilling urn When he thall call his debtors to account Throws up a steamy column, and the cups From whom are all our bleifings-business finds that cheer, but not inebria:é, wait on each, Ev’n here. While sedulous I leek t' improve, So let us welcome peaceful ev'ning in. At least neglect not, or leave unemploy'd Not such his ev’ning who, with thining face, The mind he gave me; driving it, though Nack Sweats in the crowded theatre, and squeezd, Too oft, and much impeded in its work And bor'd withelbow-points thro'both hisf.des, By caules not to be divulg'd in vain,

Outlcolds the ranting actor on the itage. To its just point-the service of mankind. Nor his, who patient stands tiil his feet throb, He that attends to his interior self,

And bis head thumps, to feed upon the breath That has a heart, and keeps it; has a mind Of patriots hursting with heroic rose, That hungers, and supplies it; and who seeks Or placemen all tranquillity and smiles. A social, not a dissipated life

This folio of four pages, happy work! Has businets ; feels himself engag'd to achieve which not ev'n critics criticisé, that holds No unimportant, though a filent task. Inquisitive attention, while I read, A life all turbulence and noise may feem, Falt bound in chains of filence, which the fair, To him that leads it, wise, and to be prais'd; Though eloquent themielves, yet fer to breakBut wisdom is a pearl with most success What is it but a map of busy life, Sought in still water, and beneath clear ikies. Its fluctuations, and iis vast concerns ? He that is ever occupied in storms

Here runs the mountainous and cussy ridge Or dives not for it, or brings up instead, Thai tempts ambition. On the suininit, lee Vainly industrious, a disgraceful prize. The seals of ofice glitter in his eyes; [heels,

He climbs, he pants, he grasps them. At his 113. The Poft comes ix--the News paper is close at his heels, a dern.gogue afcends, read-Tbe World contemplated at a distance. And with a dextrous jerk toontwiits him down,

Cowper. And wins tlein, but to lose them in his turn, HAREL 'tis the twanging horn! o'er yonder Here rills of oily claquence in soft

Meanders lubricate the course they take: That with its wearisome but needful length The modest speaker is aiam'd and grievid


« PreviousContinue »