THE PROGRess of knOWLEDGE
IRED at first sight with what the Muse imparts,
in fearless youth we tempt the heights of arts, while from the bounded level of our mind
short views we take, nor see the lengths behind;
but, more advanced, behold with strange surprise
new distant scenes of endless science rise!
So pleased at first the towering Alps we try,
mount o'er the vales, and seem to tread the sky;
the eternal snows appear already past,
and the first clouds and mountains seem the last :
but, those attained, we tremble to survey
the growing labours of the lengthened way:
the increasing prospect tires our wandering eyes,
hills peep o'er hills, and Alps on Alps arise!
OLL on, ye stars; exult in youthful prime,
curves the steps of time,
near and more near your beamy cars approach,
and lessening orbs on lessening orbs encroach;
flowers of the sky, ye too to age must yield,
frail as your silken sisters of the field!
star after star from heaven's high arch shall rush,
suns sink on suns, and systems systems crush,
headlong, extinct, to one dark centre fall,
and death and night and chaos mingle all!
till o'er the wreck emerging from the storm,
immortal nature lifts her changeful form,
mounts from her funeral pyre on wings of flame,
and soars and shines, another and the same!
FORCE AUGMENTED BY OPPOSITION
'HE current, that with gentle murmur glides,
thou know'st, being stopt, impatiently doth rage, but, when his fair course is not hindered,
he makes sweet music with the enamelled stones,
giving a gentle kiss to every sedge
he overtaketh in his pilgrimage;
and so by many winding nooks he strays,
with willing sport, to the wild ocean.
Then let me go, and hinder not my course;
I'll be as patient as a gentle stream,
and make a pastime of each weary step,
till the last step have brought me to my love;
and there I'll rest as after much turmoil
a blessed soul doth in Elysium.
LOOKED and hovering o'er the flowery turf were seen innumerable shapes, whose wings waved in the wind or o'er the glittering field who trod in silence. Care with lowering frown slow stalked; and Slander, speckled as the snake that stings the unwary traveller, along
the tainted earth trailed loose, or borne on wings
blue as the brimstone's gleam in secret shot
her poisoned arrows. Pining Envy gnawed
a blasted laurel, from the locks of Fame
snatched, as the goddess to her lips applied
her mighty trump, and swelled a solemn note
to Homer's venerable name,
ET hold me not for ever in thine East:
how can my nature longer mix with thine? coldly thy rosy shadows bathe me, cold are all thy lights, and cold my wrinkled feet upon thy glimmering thresholds, when the steam floats up from those dim fields about the homes of happy men that have the power to die, and grassy barrows of the happier dead. Release me, and restore me to the ground: thou seëst all things, thou wilt see my grave: Thou wilt renew thy beauty morn by morn; I earth in earth forget these empty courts, and thee returning on thy silver wheels.
OME to conceit alone their taste confine,
and glittering thoughts struck out at every line;
pleased with a work where nothing's just or fit,
one glaring chaos and wild heap of wit.
Poets like painters, thus, unskilled to trace
the naked nature and the living grace,
with gold and jewels cover every part,
and hide with ornaments their want of art.
True wit is nature to advantage dressed;
what oft was thought, but ne'er so well expressed;
something, whose truth convinced at sight we find,
that gives us back the image of our mind.
As shades more sweetly recommend the light,
so modest plainness sets off sprightly wit,
for works may have more wit than does 'em good,
as bodies perish through excess of blood.
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S on the height of some huge eminence,
reach'd with long labour, the wayfaring man
pauses awhile, and, gazing o'er the plain
with many a sore step travelled, turns him then
serious to contemplate the onward road,
and calls to mind the comforts of his home,
and sighs that he has left them and resolves
to stray no more: I on my way of life
muse thus, Penates, and with firmest faith
devote myself to you. I will not quit,
to mingle with the crowd, your calm abodes
where by the evening hearth Contentment sits
and hears the cricket chirp; where Love delights
to dwell, and on your altars lays his torch
that burns with no extinguishable flame.
935 THE GOddess of libERTY AMONG THE NATIONS
MEANTIME o'er rocky Thrace and the deep vales
of gelid Hæmus I pursued my flight;
and, piercing farthest Scythia, westward swept
Sarmatia traversed by a thousand streams:
a sullen land of lakes and fens immense,
of rocks, resounding torrents, gloomy heaths,
and cruel deserts black with sounding pine
where Nature frowns; though sometimes into smiles
she softens and immediate at the touch
of southern gales throws from the sudden glebe
luxuriant pasture and a waste of flowers.
But, cold-compressed, when the whole loaded heaven
descends in snow, lost in one white abrupt,
lies undistinguished earth; and, seized by frost,
lakes, headlong streams and floods and oceans sleep.
'ULL in the centre of these wondrous works,
the pride of earth, Rome in her glory see:
behold her demigods, in senate met,
all head to counsel and all heart to act;
the common weal inspiring every tongue
with fervent eloquence unbribed and bold:
ere tame Corruption taught the servile herd
to rank obedient to a master's voice:
her forum see, warm, popular and loud,
in trembling wonder hushed, when the two sires,
as they the private father sternly quelled,
stood up the public fathers of the state.
See Justice judging there, in human shape:
hark how with Freedom's voice it thunders high,
or in soft murmurs sinks to Tully's tongue.
THE DAYS THAT ARE NO MORE
EARS, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Teas from the depth of some divine despair,
rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
in looking on the happy Autumn-fields,
and thinking of the days that are no more.
Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail
that brings our friends up from the underworld,
Isad as the last which reddens over one
that sinks with all we love below the verge;
so sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Ah, sad and strange, as in dark summer dawns
the earliest pipe of half-awakened birds
to dying ears, when unto dying eyes
the casement slowly grows a glimmering square;
so sad, so strange, the days that are no more.
THE SWAN'S DEATH-HYMN
THE that waste place with joy
HE wild swan's death-hymn took the soul
hidden in sorrow: at first to the ear
the warble was low, and full and clear;
and floating about the under-sky,
prevailing in weakness, the coronach stole
sometimes afar, and sometimes anear;
but anon her awful jubilant voice,
with a music strange and manifold,
flowed forth on a carol free and bold;
as when a mighty people rejoice
with shawms and with cymbals and harps of gold,.
and the tumult of their acclaim is rolled
thro' the open gates of the city afar,
to the shepherd who watcheth the evening star.
HEN Venus from her orb descends in showers,
when first the tender blades of grass appear,
and buds, that yet the blast of Eurus fear,
stand at the door of life, and doubt to clothe the year;
till gentle heat and soft repeated rains
make the green blood to dance within their veins:
then, at their call, emboldened out they come,
and swell the gems, and burst the narrow room;
broader and broader yet their bloom display,
salute the welcome sun, and entertain the day.
Then from their breathing souls the sweets repair
to scent the skies and purge the unwholesome air:
joy spreads the heart, and with a general song
spring issues out and leads the jolly months along.
J. DRYDEN
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