Billeder på siden

To Nature's friend her genuine gifts would bring,
The light amusements of life's vacant spring;
Nor shalt thou, Yorke, her humble offering

f pure her incense, and unmixt her flame.
he pours no flattery into Folly's ear,
To shameless hireling of a shameless peer,
The friends of Pope indulge her native lays,
nd Gloucester joins with Lyttelton to praise.
Each judge of art her strain, though artless,
loves ;
and Shenstone smil'd, and polish'd Hurd ap-
> may such spirits long protect my page,
urviving lights of wit's departed age!
ong may I in their kind opinion live!
Il meaner praise, all envy, I forgive.-
Yet fairly be my future laurels won!

or let me bear a bribe to Hardwicke's son ! ould his free suffrage own the favour'd strain, hough vain the toil, the glory were not vain.

[blocks in formation]


Vin are the honours of the fruitless bay. Lough with each charm thy polish'd lay should please,

Gw into strength, yet soften into ease;
Sould Attic fancy brighten ev'ry line,
Al all Aonia's harmony be thine;

St would thy cares a grateful age repay,
Fue wreathe thy brows, or Fortune gild thy

En her own fools, if Fortune smile, shall blame; All Envy lurks beneath the flowers of Fame.

Yet, if resolv'd, secure of future praise, Toune sweet songs, and live melodious days, Let ot the hand, that decks my holy shrine, Roud Folly's head the blasted laurel twine. Justo thyself, dishonest grandeur scorn; Norgild the bust of meanness nobly born. Let ruth, let freedom still thy lays approve! Respect my precepts, and retain my love!"



FAREAR! to thee these early lays I owe : Thy friendship warms the heart from whence they flow.

1 The river Eden, in Westmorland.

2 The countess of Pembroke, to whom sir Philip Sidney dedicated his Arcadia, resided at Appleby, a small but beautiful town in Westmorland, situated upon the Eden.

[ocr errors][merged small]


And pleas'd for once, while Eden smiles again, Forget that life's inheritance is pain.

Say, shall we muse along yon arching shades, Whose awful gloom no brightening ray pervades ; Or down these vales where vernal flowers display Their golden bosoms to the smiles of day; Where the fond eye in sweet distraction strays. Most pleas'd, when most it knows not where to gaze?

Here groves arrang'd in various order rise, And blend their quiv'ring summits in the skies. The regal oak high o'er the circling shade, Exalts the hoary honours of his head. The spreading ash a diff'ring green displays, And the smooth asp in soothing whispers plays. The fir that blooms in Spring's eternal prime, The spiry poplar, and the stately lime.

Here moss-clad walks, there lawns of lively green,

United, form one nicely-varying scene:
The varying scene still charms th'attentive sight,
Or brown with shades, or op'ning into light.

Here the gay tenants of the tuneful grove, Harmonious breathe the raptures of their love: Each warbler sweet that hails the genial Spring, Tunes the glad song, and plies th' expanded wing:

The love-suggested notes in varied strains,
Fly round the vocal hills and list'ning plains:
The vocal hills and list'ning plains prolong
In varied strains the love-suggested song.
To thee, all-bounteous Nature! thee they pay
The welcome tribute of their grateful lay!
To thee, whose kindly-studious hand prepares
The fresh'ning fields and softly-breathing airs;
Whose parent-bounty annual still provides
Of foodful insects such unbounded tides.
Beneath some friendly leaf supremely blest,
Each pours at large the raptures of his breast:
Nor changeful seasons mourn, nor storins unkind,
With those contented, and to these resign'd.

Here sprightly range the grove, or skim the

[blocks in formation]

In vain, yet vig'rous, he renews his race,
In vain dark mazes oft perplex the chase:
With speed inspir'd by grief, he springs again
Through vaulted woods, and devious wilds in

Hail, blissful scene! divine Elysium hail!
Ye flow'ry blooms eternal sweets exhale :
The blest asylum's here, the sacred shore,
Where toils tumultuous tear the breast no more.
From wild ambition free, from dire despair,

Th' unrav'lling pack, still onward pouring, trace Appalling terrour, and perplexing care,
The various mazes of his circling race.
Breathless at last with long-repeated toil,
Sick'ning he stands-he yields-he falls the spoil.
From all the various blooms of painted bow'rs,
Fair banky wilds, and vallies fring'd with flow'rs,
Where Nature in profusion smiles delight,
With pleasure sated turns the roving sight.

Come then, bright vision! child of heav'nly

From this fair summit ampler sceues survey;
One spacious field in circling order eye,
And active round the far horizon fly;
Where dales descend, or ridgy mountains rise,
And lose their aspect in the falling skies.

What pleasing scenes the landscape wide dis-

Th' enchanting prospect bids for ever gaze.
Hail charming fields, of happy swains the care!
Hail happy swains, possest of fields so fair!
In peace your plenteous labours long enjoy ;
No murd'ring wars shall waste, nor foes destroy;
While western gales Earth's teeming womb un-

The seasons change, and bounteous suns are kind.
To social towns, see! wealthy Commerce brings
Rejoicing affluence on his silver wings.
On verdant hills, see! flocks innum'rous feed,
Or thoughtful listen to the lively reed.
See! golden harvests sweep the bending plains;
"And peace and plenty own a Brunswick reigns."
The wand'ring eye from Nature's wild domain
Attracted, turns to fairer scenes again.
Scenes, which to thee, refining Art! belong,
Invite the poet, and inspire the song.

Sweet, philosophic Muse! that lov'st to stray
In woody-curtain'd walks and dim-seen day,
Lead me, where lonely Contemplation roves,
Through silent shades and solitary groves

Stop, daring foot! the sacred maid is here!
These awful glooms confess the goddess near.
Low in these woods her fav'rite scene is laid,
The fence umbrageous, and the dark'ning shade,
Whose bow'ry branches bar the vagrant eye,
Assailing storms and parching suns defy.
A gentle current calmly steals serene,
In silv'ry mazes, o'er the weeping green,
Till op'ning bright, its bursting waters spread,
And fall fast-flashing down a wide cascade.
A spacious lake below expanded lies,
And lends a mirror to the quiv'ring skies.
Here pendent domes, there dancing forests seem
To float and tremble in the waving gleam.

While gaily musing o'er it's verdant side,
Pleas'd I behold the glassy riv'let glide:
Bright in the verdure of the blooming year,
Where circling groves their, full.blown honours

Ambrosial daughter of the spicy Spring. [wing;
While fragrant woodbine scents each Zephyr's
While nectar-footed Morn, approaching, dyes,
In radiant blush, the rosy:checker'd skies;
The first fair Eden, o'er th' enchanted plain
Reviving, smiles, or seems to smile again.

Happy the man who in these shades can find
That angel-bliss, serenity of mind;
Walk the fair green, or in the grotto lie,
With hope-strung breast, and heav'n-erected eye!
While cheated worlds, by pleasure's lure be-

Through rocks and sands pursue the siren maid;
And, long-bewilder'd, urge the weary chase,
Though still the phantom slips their vain em-

'Tis his with pitying eye to see-to know
Whence purest joy's perennial fountains flow.
With this exalting charm divinely blest,
The dear reflection of a blameless breast:
Where sweet-ey'd Love still smiles serenely gay,
And heav'nly Virtue beams a brighter ray.
Soft, smoothly-pacing slide his peaceful days,
His own his censure, and his own his praise:
Alike to him, both subjects of the grave,
The scepter'd monarch, and the menial slave.
Thrice happy he who life's poor pains has laid
In the lone tomb of some sequester'd shade!
More amply blest, if gloriously retir'd, [fir'd;
With learning charm'd, and with the Muses
Who nobly dares with philosophic eye,
Through full creation's bounded orbs to fly;
Pleas'd, in their well-form'd systems still to find
The matchless wisdom of th' immortal mind.
Still charm'd, in Nature's various plan, to trace
His boundless love and all-supporting grace.

Ye pompous great! whose dream of glory


From sounding titles or the smiles of kings:
Ye, laurel'd in the bleeding wreathes of war!
And ye, whose hearts are center'd in a star!
Say, all ye sons of power and splendour, say,
E'er could ye boast one unembitter'd day?
Cease the vain hope in dazzling pomp to find
Divine content, to humbler lots assign'd;
The modest fair frequents the lowly cell,
Where smiling Peace and conscious Virtue dwell.
While through the maze of winding bow'rs I


The shade's dim gloom, or vista's op'ning day;
Soft-sighing groves, where silky breezes fill,
Kiss the smooth plain, and glassy-dimpling rill;
In silent vales, by sadly-mourning streams,
Where swift-ey'd Fancy wings her waving dreams;
What sacred awe the lonely scenes inspire!
What joys transport me, and what raptures fire!
Visions divine, enchanted I behold,

And all the Muses all their charms unfold.

Ye, woods of Pindus, and Ætolian plains,
No more shall listen to immortal strains:
Flow unconcern'd, no Muse celestial sings,
Ye Thracian fountains, and Aonian springs!
No more your shades shall leave their native

Nor songs arrest your raptur'd currents more.

And thou, Parnassus, wrapt in deep alcoves,
Mourn, in sad silence, thy forsaken groves :
No more thy warblers rival notes admire,
Nor choral zephyrs fill the breathing lyre.


Each drooping laurel bends its languid head;
The strains are vanish'd, and the Muses fled.

To nobler hills, where fairer forests grow,
To vales, where streams in sweeter accents flow;
To blooming Studley's more delightful shades
Welcome, ye sacred, ye celestial maids!

Wake the soft lute, here strike the sounding string,

Make the groves echo, and the vallies ring;
Harmonious lead, through rosy-smiling bow'rs,
The soft-ey'd Graces and the dancing Hours.

In awful scenes retir'd, where gloomy Night
Still broods, unbanish'd by returning light;
Where Silence, fix'd in meditation deep,
Folds in her arms her fav'rite offspring, Sleep;
Musing along the lonely shades I roam
'Till beauteous rises a devoted dome;
Thy fane, seraphic Piety! low plac'd
In sable glooms, by deep'ning woods embrac'd.
Nor radiant here the prince of day displays
His morning blushes, nor meridian blaze:
Rolls o'er the world the splendid orb unseen,
'Till his last glories gild the streaming green;
Then sportive gleams through parting columns

Here waves a shadow, and there smiles a ray.
Just emblem of the man who, free from strife,
'Th' uneasy pains that vex the noon of life,
Not dazzled with the diamond-beaming zone,
Flash of a lace, or brilliance of a stone,
Courts the last smiles of life's declining ray,
Where Hope exulting reaps eternal day.

The sacred solitude, the lone recess,
An awful pleasure on my soul impress.
Raptures divine through all my bosom glow,
The bliss alone immortal beings know,
Ah, knew that sovereign bliss no base alloy,
Wer't thou, my Farrer! witness to my joy;
What nobler pleasure could we boast below!
What joy sublimer Heav'n itself bestow!
Haste, my gay friend! my dear associate, haste!
Life of my soul, and partner of my breast!
Quick to these shades, these magic shades retire:
Here light thy graces, and thy virtue fire:
Here sheds sweet Piety her beams divine,
And all the goddess fills her heav'nly shrine.
Celestial maids before her altar move:
White handed Innocence, and weeping Love."
Her tow'ring domes let Richmond boast alone;
The sculptur'd statue and the breathing stone:
Alone distinguish'd on the plains of Stowe,
From Jones's hand the featur'd marble glow:
Though there unnumber'd columns front the

To fancied gods forbidden temples rise;
Unenvied, Studley, be this pomp of art,
'Tis thine the pow'r to please a virtuous heart.
From this lov'd scene with anxious steps I

Each devious winding of the banky maze;
To the tall summit of the steep repair,
And view the gay surrounding prospect there.
What joys expand my breast! what rapture


While all the landscape opens all its charms: While pleas'd I see, the parting shades between, The lake fair-gleaming and the smoother green; Through lowly grots where wand'ring shadows stray,

Groves gently wave, and glist'uing waters play.

On thee, fair Hackfall! Fancy bends her eye, Longs o'er the cliffs and deep'ning lawns to fly. Enchanted sees each silv'ry-floating wave Beat, thy green banks, thy lonely vallies lave: And now delighted, now she joys to hear Thy deep, slow falls, long-lab'ring through her earl.

All-beauteous Nature! object of my song, To thee my first, my latest strains belong : To thee my lays I tune, while envious Art In rival charms here courts the raptur'd heart. Like thee to please, she decks the painted bow'r, Spreads the smooth lawn, and rears the velvet

flow'r :

With winding arbours crowns the sylvan dale,
And bends the forest o'er the lowly vale:
Bids the loud cataract deep-thund'ring roar,
Or winds the riv'let round a mazy shore.
Ambitious still, like thee, when she beguiles,
Wins with thy grace, and in thy beauty smiles.

In this gay dome 2 where sportive Fancy plays,
And imag'd life the pictur'd roof arrays;
Proud in thy charms the mimic shines confest,
Beams the soft eye, and heaves the panting

From thee, prime source! kind-handed goddess! flow

The purest blessings that we boast below:
To thee its beauty owes this charming scene,
These groves their fragrance, and those plains
their green:

For thee the Muses wreaths eternal twine,
Immortal maid! for every Muse is thine.
Oh, wou'd'st thou lead me through the bound
less sky!

Regions untravell❜d by a mortal eye;
Or kindly aid, while studious I explore
Those arduous paths thy Newton trod before!
There wond'ring should my ravish't eye survey
New worlds of being, and new scenes of day.
But if for my weak wing and trembling sight,
Too vast the journey, and too full the light;
Inglorious here I'll tune the lowly reed,
How rolls the fountain, and how springs the mead.
Or, bear me to the banks, ye sacred Nine !
Of beauteous Isis, or the silver Tine;
To Tine's delightful banks, where, ever gay,
The generous F-lives the peaceful day:
F-still free from passion's fretful train,
Ne'er felt the thorn of anguish nor of pain;
His heart-felt joys still Nature's charms improve,
Her voice is music, and her visage love :
Pleas'd with the change each various season

Imbrowning autumns, and impurpled springs:
For him kind Nature all her treasures yields,
She decks the forest, and she paints the fields.
O say! where bloom those time-surviving

[blocks in formation]

Obscure he fled to sylvan shades alone,
And left mankind to be for ever known.
Such were the scenes where Spenser once re-

When great Eliza's fame the Muse inspir'd;
When Gloriana led her poet's dreams,
O'er flow'ry meadows, and by murm'ring streams.
Immortal bards! whose death-contemning

ShaH shine distinguish'd with eternal praise.
Knew my poor Muse, like these to soar sublime,
And spurn the ruins of insulting Time;
Where'er I stray, where blooming Flora leads,
O'er sunny mountains, and through purple

Or careless in the sylvan covert laid,
Where falling rills amuse the mournful shade;
Ye, rural fields, should still resound my lay,
And thou, fair Studley! smile for ever gay.




WHERE Tweed's fair plains in liberal beauty
And Flora laughs beneath a lucid sky; [lie,
Long-winding vales where crystal waters lave,
Where blythe birds warble, and where green
woods wave,
A bright hair'd shepherd, in young beauty's
Tun'd his sweet pipe behind the yellow broom.
Free to the gale his waving ringlets lay,
And his blue eyes diffus'd an azure day.
Light o'er his limbs a careless robe he flung;
Health rais'd his heart, and strength his firm
nerves strung;

His native plains poetic charms inspir'd,
Wild scenes, where ancient Fancy oft retir'd!
Oft led her Faeries to the Shepherd's lay,
By Yarrow's banks, or groves of Endermay.

Nor only his those images that rise
Fair to the glance of Fancy's plastic eyes;
His country's love his patriot soul possess'd,
His country's honour fir'd his filial breast.
Her lofty genius, piercing, bright, and bold,
Her valour witness'd by the world of old,
Witness'd once more by recent heaps of slain
On Canada's wild hills, and Minden's plain,
To sound sublimer wak'd his pastoral reed—
Peace, Mountain-echoes! while the strains pro-



No more of Tiviot, nor the flowery braes, Where the blythe shepherd tunes his lightsome lays;

No more of Leader's faery-haunted-shore,
Of Athol's lawns, and Gledswood banks no more;
Unheeded smile my country's native charms,
Lost in the glory of her arts and arms.
These, shepherds, these demand sublimer strains
Than Clyde's clear fountains, or than Athol's


Shepherd, to thee sublimer lays belong, The force divine of soul-commanding song. These humble reeds have little learnt to play, Save the light airs that cheer the pastoral day, Of the clear fountain, and the fruitful plain We sing, as fancy guides the simple strain. If then thy country's sacred fame demand The high-ton'd music of a happier handShepherd, to thee sublimer lays belong, The force divine of soul-commanding song.


In spite of faction's blind, unmanner'd rage, Of various fortune and destructive age, Fair Scotland's honours yet unchang'd are seen, Her palms still blooming, and her laurels green, Freed from the confines of her Gothic grave, When her first light reviving Science gave, Alike o'er Britain shone the liberal ray, From Enswith's 'mountains to the banks of Tay. For James the Muses tun'd their sportive

lays, [bays. And bound the monarch's brow with Chaucer's Arch Humour smil'd to hear his mimic strain, And plausive Laughter thrill'd thro' every vein. When taste and genius form the royal mind, The favour'd arts a happier era find. By James belov'd the Muses tun'd their lyres But the dark mantle of involving time To nobler strains, and breath'd diviner fires,

Has veil'd their beauties, and obscur'd their rhyme.

Yet still some pleasing monuments remain, In nervous strains Dunbar's bold music flows, Some marks of genius in each later reign. And Time yet spares the Thistle and the Rose 3,

O, while his course the hoary warrior steers Thro' the long range of life-dissolving years, Thro' all the evils of each changeful age, Hate, envy, faction, jealousy, and rage, Ne'er may his scythe these sacred plants divide, These plants by Heaven in native union tiea! Still may the flower its social sweets disclose, The hardy Thistle still defend the Rose !

[ocr errors]

Hail, happy days! appeas'd by Margaret's

When rival Valour sheath'd his fatal arms;
When kindred realms unnatural war supprest,
Nor aim'd their arrows at a sister's breast.

Kind to the Muse is quiet's genial day;
Her olive loves the foliage of the bay.

With bold Dunbar arose a numerous choir
Of rival bards that strung the Dorian lyre.
Sweet Arethusa's shepherd breath'd again.
In gentle Henryson's unlabour'd strain

A chain of mountains near Folkstone in Kent.

the famous old song, entitled Christ's Kirk on the * James the First, king of Scotland, author of


a A poem so called, written in honour of Margaret, daughter of Henry VII. on her marriage to James IV. king of Scots. By Mr. William Dunbar.

+ Mr. Robertson Henryson, an ingenious pastoral poet.

Nor shall your tuneful visions be forgot,
Sage Bellentyne 5, and fancy-painting Scott".
But, O my country! how shall niemory trace
Thy bleeding anguish, and thy dire disgrace?
Weep o'er the ruins of thy blasted bays,
Thy glories lost in either Charles's days?
When thro' thy fields destructive rapine spread,
Nor sparing infant's tears, nor hoary head.
In those dread days the unprotected swain
Mourn'd on the mountains o'er his wasted plain.
Nor longer vocal with the shepherd's lay
Were Yarrow's banks, or groves of Endermay.

CHORUS OF SHepherds.

Amyntor, cease! the painful scene forbear, Nor the fond breast of filial duty tear. Yet in our eyes our father's sorrows flow, Yet in our bosoms lives their lasting woe. At eve returning from their scanty fold, When the long sufferings of their sires they told, Oft we have sigh'd the piteous tale to hear, And infant wonder dropt the mimic tear.


Like that strange power by fabling poets feign'd,
From east to west his mighty arms he strain❜d.
A rooted olive in one hand he bore,

In one a globe, inscrib'd with sea and shore.
From Thames's banks, to Tweed, to Tay he came,
Wealth in his rear, and Commerce was his name.
Glad Industry the glorious stranger hails,
Rears the tall masts, and spreads the swelling

Regions remote with active hope explores,
Wild Zembla's hills, and Afric's burning shores.
But chief, Columbus, of thy various coast,
Child of the Union, Commerce bears his boast.
To seek thy new-found worlds, the vent'rous
His lass forsaking, left the lowland plain; [swain,
Aside his crook, his idle pipe he threw,
And bade to Music, and to Love adieu.

Hence, Glasgow fair, thy wealth-diffusing hand,

Thy groves of vessels, and thy crowded strand. Hence, round his folds the moorland shepherd


New social towns, and happy hamlets rise.

But me not splendour, nor the hopes of gain

Shepherds, no longer need your sorrows flow, Should ever tempt to quit the peaceful plain.

Nor pious duty cherish endless woe.
Yet should Remembrance, led by filial love,
Through the dark vale of old afflictions rove,
The mounful shades of sorrows past explore,
And think of miseries that are no more;
Let those sad scenes that ask the duteous tear,
The kind return of happier days endear.

Hail, Anna, hail! O may each Muse divine With wreaths eternal grace thy holy shrine! Grav'd on thy tomb this sacred verse remain, This verse more sweet than conquest's sounding strain:

"She bade the rage of hostile nations cease,
The glorious arbitress of Europe's peace."
She, thro' whose bosom roll'd the vital tide
Of Britain's monarchs in one stream allied,
Clos'd the long jealousies of different sway,
And saw united sister-realms obey.

Auspicious days! when Tyranny no more Rais'd his red arm, nor drench'd his darts in gore;

When, long an exile from his native plain,
Safe to his fold return'd the weary swain.
Return'd, and, many a painful summer past,
Beheld the green bench by his door at last.

Auspicious days! when Scots, no more opprest,
On their free mountains bar'd the fearless breast;
With pleasure saw their flocks unbounded feed,
And tun'd to strains of ancient joy the reed.
Then, shepherds, did your wondering sires

A form divine, whose vesture flam'd with gold;
His radiant eyes a starry lustre shed,
And solar glories beam'd around his head.

5 Mr. John Bellentyne, archdean of Murray, anthor of a beautiful allegorical poem, entitled, Virtue and Vice.

Mr. Archibald Scott, in the year 1524, translated the Vision, a poem, said to have been written in the year 1360. He was the author of the Eagle and the Redbreast also, and several other pieces written with uncommon elegance for their day.

Shall I, possest of all that life requires,
With tutor'd hopes, and limited desires, [ease,
Change these sweet fields, these native scenes of
For climes uncertain, and uncertain seas?

Nor yet, fair Commerce, do I thee disdain,
Though Guilt and Death and Riot swell thy train.
Cheer'd by the influence of thy gladd'ning ray,
The liberal arts sublimer works essay.
Genius for thee relumes his sacred fires,
And Science nearer to her Heaven aspires.

The sanguine eye of Tyranny long clos'd,
By Commerce foster'd, and in peace repos'd,
No more her miseries when my country mourn'd,
With brighter flames her glowing genius burn'd.
Soon wandering fearless many a Muse was seen
O'er the dun mountain, and the wild wood green.
Soon, to the warblings of the pastoral reed,
Started sweet Echo from the shores of Tweed.
O favour'd stream! where thy fair current

The child of Nature, gentle Thomson, rose.
Young as he wander'd on thy flowery side,
With simple joy to see thy bright waves glide,
Thither, in all thy native charins array'd,
From climes remote the sister Seasons stray'd.

Long each in beauty boasted to excel,
(For jealousies in sister-bosoms dwell)
But now, delighted with the liberal boy,
Like Heaven's fair rivals in the groves of Troy,
Yield to an humble swain their high debate,
And from his voice the palm of beauty wait.

Her naked charms, like Venus, to disclose, Spring from her bosom threw the shadowing rose, Bar'd the pure snow that feeds the lover's fire, The breast that thrills with exquisite desire; Assum'd the tender smile, the melting eye, The breath favonian, and the yielding sigh. One beauteous hand a wilding's blossom grac'd, And one fell careless o'er her zoneless waist.

Majestic Summer, in gay pride adorn'd, Her rival sister's simple beauty scorn'd. With purple wreathes her lofty brows were bound,

With glowing flowers her rising bosom crown'd.

« ForrigeFortsæt »