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September 4, 2007
___________________My timorous muse,
Unambitious tracts pursues;
Does with weak unballast wings,
About the mossy brooks and springs,
Like the laborious bee,
For little drops of honey fly,
And there with humble sweets contents her industry.
THIS little Work is presented to the public, as one of the trifles of the day, too insignificant to require a preface, and expecting the smile, only of those who possess the happy philosophy of being easily pleased; which disposition residing chiefly with the young and inexperienced, to them it is dedicated, by their truly affectionate well wisher,MARIANNE CURTIES.
COME, Muse belov'd! my solace and my joy,
In the still hour do thou my thoughts employ;
With thee I'd rove by eve's inspiring star
That shoots its gentle beams so wide, so far;
Like virtuous deeds in this dark world of woe,
That o'er the gloom their sacred radiance throw:
With thee I'd wander, in the moonlight hour
Through fairy haunts, and pluck wild fancy's flower;
With thee, companion dear! would I explore
The wide meandering streams of classic lore;
But when the early dawn of young eyed day
Sheds o'er the orient hills the golden ray,
Farewell, beloved Muse—far other cares
Demand my thoughts—farewell till eve again appears.
WHEN first this Orb bowl'd from th' Almighty hand,
While yet the stamp of innocence it bore,
Each plant spontaneous crown'd the smiling land,
And halcyons swept the sea from shore to shore:
In these prime golden days, as poets feign'd,
(Earth's virgin bosom yet unstain'd with blood,)
The father of the Gods benignly reign'd;
And all were happy then, for all were good.
This father name; and then, a mount explore,
Which rears its honor'd head on classic ground;
The favorite haunt of Gods, in days of yore,
With spring unfading and soft verdure crown'd:
Around its breast no storms had leave to blow,
But zephyr's balmy breath perfum'd the air;
No noxious weed was there allow'd to grow,
But roses, sweet as Flora's self could rear.
That hapless goddess tell, by Python driven
Thro' the hard earth to its extremest shore;
Alike excluded from relentless heaven,
And forc'd the restless ocean to implore:
Then pitying Neptune, by his trident's sway
Firm on the bosom of the waters plac'd
The wand'ring isle,∗ in which she gave the day
To bright Apollo and his sister chaste.
So some fair dove by savage hawk pursu'd,
No shelter finds in earth, or air, or waves.
Till life just spent, its feeble strength subdu'd,
Some gentle hand the trembling flutterer saves.
Delos, which before, it is said, floated in the Ægean,
Th' initials join'd will instantaneous tell
The world's great eye, exhaustless source of day!
In whose bright beams, life, light, and beauty dwell;
Who glads e'en distant Herschel with his ray.
THAT British Bard, whose intellectual light
Might well compensate for the visual ray
Which Heav'n refus'd to pour upon his sight:
Though dark without, his radiant mind was day.
His nobler subject, elevates his muse
Beyond the praise to Grecian Homer due;
Those who his works with glowing souls peruse,
The fervent Christian in the poet view.
The name declare of that bright Theban star,
Whose beams illuminate the Grecian name;
Splendent he shone in all the arts of war,
Yet not to war alone, he ow'd his fame;
Though Victory round his brow her wreath entwined:
Fair Truth beloved mistress of his soul!
Gave her pure lustre to his candid mind,
And Science smil'd on the accomplish'd whole.
One of those twins ill-fated Sylvia bore,
Who to his brother's fortune scorn'd to yield;
Rome's rising wall he leapt contemptuous o'er,
When, by the fratricide his doom was seal'd.
The noble Roman who, with the same hand
That guided the great nation's conquering arms,
The plough conducted o'er the fallow land;
And gave to haggard poverty, new charms.
The Hero, who the Syren's wiles repress'd,
Yet weakly yielded to Calypso's charms;
And seven long years in luxury's lap caress'd,
Forgot his isle, his glory, and his arms.
A Roman actor, whose illustrious name
Is oft on modern excellence bestow'd:
Still more exalted, through his pupil's fame,
The source from which Rome's eloquence has flow'd,
A Poet next, whose melancholy lays
Instruct the serious, and delight the sage;
Like Heaven's bright arch compos'd of tearful rays;
His sorrows blot not, but adorn the page.
These names combine; behold a star arise
Scarcely emerging from the parent beam;
Whose silver rays ne'er reach to vulgar eyes,
E'en through Urania's tube but rarely seen.
OF those devoted maids declare the name,
Appointed first, by Numa's pious zeal,
To keep alive the heav'n-descended flame,
On which depended Rome's successful weal;
But in more ancient annals still, we read
Unhappy Sylvia's melancholy doom;
By laws severe which bind these maids, decreed
To hide her frailty in a living tomb.
Then an attendant on fair Venus find,
Who round her waist the magic cestus wound,
Or wav'd her flowing ringlets, or confin'd,
Or on her brows the fragrant myrtle bound.
Now let your thoughts explore old ocean's caves,
And then the name of those fair nymphs you'll find
Who there abide, beneath the limpid waves,
In grots of pearl by the red coral lin'd.
When venturous sailors tempt the dangerous deep,
And the white sail scuds o'er the liquid plain;
These nymphs they impetrate, to lay asleep
The raging winds and smooth the ruffled main.
A name unto the sapient Goddess given,
Denoting her descent alone from Jove:
Hail radiant wisdom! choicest gift of Heaven!
Thrice happy they with whom thou deign'st to rove!
In days of old, when rivers glow'd with love,
And beauteous daughters crown'd their nuptial bliss:
Enamour'd Neptune sought the charms to prove
Of a fair water-nymph—whose name now guess:
The maid he won, and to the Ægean sea
Transported safe, there in a fertile isle
She own'd her joy, while frolic round her knee
She view'd her Cenchreus with a mother's smile.
These names so feminine will shew, I ween,
The peerless queen of stars, heaven's brightest gem,
Now on the brow of placid evening seen,
Now sparkling in Aurora's diadem.
Chaste star! that dost from midnight revels fly,
And to dark deeds wilt never lend thy ray;
But leav'st to stars less pure the nightly sky
And like fair virtue seek'st the eye of day.
THE frowning rock that overlook'd proud Rome,
To punish crime and stop ambition's flight:
The trembling culprit (such his fatal doom)
Dash'd from its summit, sunk in endless night.
And then, the sea whose sombre waters lave
The coast of Europe, and old Asia's shore;
Adventurous Jason (first that dar'd its wave,)
The golden fleece from envied Colchis bore.
A river next, who fills his copious urn,
'Midst Rhætian Alps, thence flows a mighty stream;
His swelling waves saw Roman valor burn,
And German spears with war's dread lightening gleam.
A harbour on the Adriatic coast,
And of the western empire once the seat,
Its circuit wide could numerous vessels boast,
And from its mouth advanc'd the full-sail'd fleet.
Though Roman grandeur dignified the fort,
One simple gift, stern nature had denied;
Whilst wines luxurious flow'd into its port,
No crystal spring the purer draught supplied.
The splendor of the once fam'd city lost,
The wretched little town that now remains,
By swamps surrounded, and by marshes cross'd,
No vestige of its former self retains.
And last, an ancient name of that blest isle,
That on the bosom of the western main
Arises fair, as formed by Nature's smile
When first, well pleas'd, she view'd her wide domain.
Sweet haunt of lightsome liberty and love!
To form thy gallant sons these powers combine,
Thy blue-ey'd daughters too, their influence prove,
By these, enhanc'd, their native graces shine.
These names unite, and straight they will display
A mother, who in tenderness may vie
With the fam'd pelican, like her, each day
From her own breast supplies her progeny:
And when exhausted with life's eager chace,
The final scenes of anxious nature close,
Her bosom offers to her sleeping race,
A pillow soft of undisturb'd repose.
OF the three fatal sisters, tell the one
Who spins the thread of life of various dyes;
Now bright with joy the vivid colors run,
Now dipp'd in sorrow's hue the shuttle flies.
A surname next to lofty Juno given,
By which Rome's married dames invok'd her pow'r;
To mix their cup of harmony in heaven,
From bitter discord free, 'till life's last hour.
Then the fair youth, who bending o'er the flood,
Saw in the stream his own bright image rise;
Enamour'd of himself, the stripling stood;
His glowing beauties fir'd his ardent eyes:
Vainly he sought t'embrace the watery shade;
His eager grasp for ever mock'd, he pin'd
For what he deem'd some bashful blooming maid,
And at his hopeless destiny repin'd:
Till worn at length with anxious wistful cares,
Death frees his spirit from its beauteous bed;
And a fair flower of golden hue appears,
That pining still, hangs down its weeping head.
When chaste Diana sought the cool retreat,
(A vale impervious to the noontide beam.)
And 'midst her nymphs, o'ercome with toil and heat,
Stood on the margin of the crystal stream.
A hapless hunter, by his fate betray'd,
Was thither led as he pursu'd his game,
Surpris'd, the blushing goddess he survey'd,
Crimson'd alike with anger and with shame:
Transform'd into a stag, amaz'd he flies,
His slender shanks his trembling body bear,
The branching antlers on his temples rise,
And his own dogs deceiv'd, their master tear.
This hunter add—see o'er the hills arise,
The silver lamp of night, whose soften'd ray,
Shews every object in a bright disguise.
Converting darkest night to lovelier day.
Then is the hour, when elfs and fays are seen,
Ranging their acorn-cups to catch the dew,
Or lightly tracing round their tiny queen,
Upon the daisied green, the circle true.
A THRACIAN peasant, whose gigantic form
Wrapt in imperial purple tyranniz'd
O'er friend and foe; the universal storm
Disdaining prudence ravag'd undisguis'd:
So great his strength he'd draw a loaded wain,
And in the race outstrip the fleetest steed;
But impotent his force, his courage vain;
In his own camp did the base tyrant bleed:
A hero next, whose vast extended fame
O'er the known earth with giant footsteps trod;
Victory unfurl'd her flag where'er he came,
And taught the victor to assume the god:
One world submitted to his wide control,
And then for more, the short-liv'd hero griev'd;
While his fierce passions triumph'd o'er his soul,
And left the best of conquests unachiev'd.
A Thracian prince who, had he reach'd the towers
Of ancient Priam, and his horses fed
On the soft turf surrounding Troy's green bowers,
Or to the Xanthus' stream their footsteps led,
Ilion had stood, nor bow'd to Grecian lords,
(So said the Oracle,) but Diomedes true
And brave Ulysses, drew their trusty swords,
Secur'd the horses and their master slew.
A hero next, form'd in a godlike mould,
As great in virtue as in warlike deeds;
His soul, superior to the thirst of gold,
With Pity follows where stern Victory leads:
When captive beauty might have blest his arms,
See him triumphant o'er his passions rise;
And conqueror of himself, resign the charms
Love had intended for another's prize.
See the brave chief, his country's battles fought
And to its arms the highest glory given,
Accus'd, disgrac'd, to the tribunal brought,
And by ingratitude to exile driven.
In peace retir'd, his wounded soul he owns,
And dying speaks his indignation just;
"Ungrateful countrymen, my mould'ring bones
Shall never mix with your degenerate dust."
These brilliant names unite—a star is given,
That with the ruby's beam illumes his sphere;
Like some proud exile from his kindred driven,
Moonless he travels through the circling year.
NAME Italy's first king, in whose mild reign
Saturn was driven from his heav'nly court;
And thence descending on Italia's plain,
Receiv'd this king's assistance and support:
Two faces on his statues were display'd,
Which knowledge of the past and future shew'd;
Ere they the gods invok'd, to him they pray'd
To speed their off'rings through the heavenly road.∗
A warlike king, who led his mountain band
In aid of Turnus 'gainst Æneas' arms;
Tough was their courage, like their iron land,
A barren soil devoid of softening charms.
He was said to preside over the avenues through which the prayers of mortals ascended to the Gods.
His four brave sons, to please pale Pallas' ghost,
Before the funeral pile resign'd their breath:
Himself by Gyas slain, stretch'd on the coast,
Forgot his sorrows in the arms of death.
Name Dido's brother, tyrant most prophane!
Whose avarice the holy priest pursued;
And heedless of religion's sacred fane,
His cruel hands in murther he embrued.
Her husband slain, fair Dido urg'd her flight
To Afric's coast, and the foundation laid
Of Carthage, famous for its warlike might,
That bow'd alone to Rome's victorious blade.
Then call to mind the ill-starr'd king of Crete,
Who when returning from the Trojan coast,
Tempests and adverse winds pursu'd the fleet,
And nigh had swallow'd up the home-bound host:
"Grant me to see my native isle once more,
Assuage the winds and bid my voyage speed;
So shall the first that greets me on the shore,
Oh Neptune! on thy sacred altar bleed:"
Thus the rash monarch pray'd—the god complied,
The winds are hush'd, and o'er the billows light
Safe into port the happy vessels ride,
When lo! his son was first to meet his sight:
The father dar'd not to withhold the meed;
Dire superstition laugh'd to see his pain:
His country blushed to own the barbarous deed,
And drove him out a wanderer o'er the main.
A hero, who the crown of Athens wore,
By Ariadne's clue, his country freed
From the base tribute to the Minotaur;
By which the Athenian youth were doom'd to bleed.
Alas! how oft does vice's baneful shade
Obscure bright virtue in man's medley frame;
The ingrate see, forsake the gentle maid
To whom he ow'd his safety and his fame.
The eldest of two brothers next disclose,
Left by their father an alternate throne;
But fierce contention in their bosoms rose,
And each determin'd to command alone:
Both brothers in the furious combat died;
Laid on the funeral pile, their hatred such,
'Tis said, their ashes scorn'd to be allied,
And shrunk abhorrent from each other's touch.
An ancient monarch next, renown'd in war,
Who far extended Egypt's wide domain
O'er eastern regions towards the morning star.
Time, while he mark'd this king's puissant reign,
Saw Ilium's tow'r reflect the western ray
And proudly eminent o'erlook the strand;
Then saw it to the flames of Greece a prey,
And all its glories levell'd with the sand.
These royal names the prince of planets shew,
Who in wide orbit roils his pond'rous sphere;
His splendid beams with a blue lustre glow,
And round him girt, his silver bands appear:
Four constant moons attending, never stray,
But with their dance his tedious year beguile;
Some Turkish Sultan like, or Moorish Dey;
Obsequious beauties court his haughty smile.
A WRETCH whom Attica with blushes owns,
Who, when by Theseus conquer'd and destroy'd;
Both earth and sea, indignant spurn'd his bones,
And in the air the hateful weight was buoy'd.
The name of that illustrious Roman, say,
Who for the beautiful Egyptian queen
An Empire lost, in Actium's fateful day,
When flying from the fight her sails were seen;
By love seduc'd, ambition urg'd in vain;
Weakly he fled, to join the flying queen;
His glory lost, no effort could regain;
And suicide's dark curtain clos'd the scene.
Then Jupiter's rash son reveal, who stole
The sacred food before th' immortals plac'd;
Ambrosia fragrant and the nectar'd bowl;
And to unhallow'd lips allow'd the taste:
Eternal thirst the wretched culprit bears,
Though past his lip the stream for ever flows;
His vitals everlasting hunger tears,
While o'er his head depend the loaded boughs.
A city then, who long had rear'd her head,
Ere Carthage first in maiden beauty rose:
Here Cato chose to join the patriots dead,
And leave the world its slavery and woes.
From Cato's virtues shall the suicide
Draw argument to aid his impious cause?
They only prove proud reason a blind guide,
Unless directed by superior laws.
A king of Alba whose impiety,
'Tis said, drew down the thunder's vengeful bolt:
Yet not alone to scare the guilty eye
Does the red light'ning glare through Heav'n's blue vault.
Because sometimes to the benignant heart
The fatal shaft is sent, shall mole-ey'd man
High Heaven's behests arraign? 'tis folly's part
The hidden ways of Providence to scan.
The good, in Heav'n confiding, know no fear,
To them undreaded shall death's arrow come,
Though lightening speed it through the lurid air;
Secure, that virtue shall survive the tomb.
Lastly th' heroic king of Pylos name,
Whose counsels soften'd Agamemnon's rage;
For prudent valor eminent his fame,
And greatly honor'd for experienc'd age.
These names united will a planet shew
Who wheels in thirty years his annual way,
His breast encircled by a splendid bow,
To compensate for Sol's far distant ray:
Seven beauteous satellites their sire attend,
Who fill their little urns with radiant light,
Which straight in duteous guise to him they send,
To cheer the horrors of his gloomy night.
THE Sicyonian fair, to whom we owe
The art, each blooming floweret to dispose
In garlands gay, which in sweet contrast shews
The snow-white lily and the blushing rose.
An ancient, who for wisdom much renown'd
To take a nap of forty years contrives;
Some moderns boast a wisdom more profound,
One dose of indolence lasts through their lives.
A king, whose fame from earliest date has stood;
And still through dark antiquity it gleams;
'Twas in his time, that the usurping flood
Spoilt Attica's rich plains and silver streams.
Two hundred years in watery ruin laid
The pride of Greece, and after-ages' boast;
'Till drain'd at last by kind Apollo's aid,
The new-born verdure deck'd the rising coast:
too, saw fair Venus in disgrace,
Then forc'd her former figure to forsake,
Though beauteous still, to wear another face,
And through the heavens a different circuit make.
A king full rich, who in the miser's guise
Delighted not to give but to survey;
At Memphis see his strong-built tower arise,
To guard his treasures from the eye of day:
In the reign of this king, there was an uncommon appearance in the Heavens, when, it is said, the planet Venus changed her figure, color, and course.
But soon his idol took its secret flight;
The wily architect contriv'd to lay
A moving stone, through which the conscious night
Beheld him bear his ill-got prize away.
Name the companion of Ulysses' woes,
Who by vile Circe's incantations chang'd;
The stiffen'd bristles on his back arose
And through the woods a grisly hog he rang'd;
'Tis said, when rescued by Ulysses' skill,
The human form he loath'd, and dead to shame,
Preferr'd to grunt his grovelling pleasures still;
Though chang'd in form, his abject soul the same.
The moral shews, how near allied to beasts,
The human mind that seeks not mental bliss,
But centres its delight in sensual feasts:
The brute enjoys superior happiness.
A hero of the Argonauts then name,
Who for his bride the fair Marpessa gain'd;
Apollo saw and lov'd the beauteous dame,
But lov'd in vain, no boon the god obtain'd:
By the brave husband's arrows quick pursu'd,
The amorous god was driven from the field;
And the chaste dame with virtuous power endu'd,
E'en though Apollo woo'd, yet scorn'd to yield.
The muse most dear to those who love the stars,
As a young virgin drawn, of heav'nly mien,
Who the dark portals of the night unbars,
And to her votaries gives the glowing scene;
Where suns innumerous burn with innate light,
And where sublime in beauty, night's fair queen
Sails on the clouds, and waves her banners bright
Of silvery tissue o'er the blue serene.
One of the Gorgons, whose resplendent hair
Was chang'd to serpents by Minerva's ire:
Those brilliant locks that Neptune did ensnare,
And through his veins spread love's pernicious fire.
Her head when on the fatal Ægis plac'd,
Had power t'arrest the rash beholder's eye;
No more it roll'd, by rigid stone embrac'd;
No more the limbs could move, or tongue reply.
So Thiscelus, so Amphyx, many a name,
To statues turn'd, their living forms retain'd,
As from some sculptor's chissel fresh they came;
The marble veins their gelid blood detain'd.
A king unfit to wield the javelin;
Soft and effeminate, in maid's attire
Amidst his women, see the monarch spin;
Or move the dance, or touch the warbling lyre:
Last of Assyrian monarchs, for awhile
In soft voluptuousness he past the hour;
Nor dreamt that treachery lurk'd beneath a smile,
Until he felt his rebel subjects' pow'r:
When rous'd too late, and hurried to despair,
Th' unhappy king his splendid palace fir'd
And with his damsels, and his treasures rare
In the magnific holocaust expir'd.
If friendship charm thee, call to mind the friend
Of god-like Hercules, whose faithful hand
Assisted in the cruel hydra's end;
A task, which else had prov'd a vain command.
With age benumb'd, at Hercules' request,
Behold him glow with renovated bloom;
And when at last he sinks to endless rest,
See love and friendship consecrate his tomb;
Thither fond lovers come, to bind their vows;
And friends by it, attest their constancy;
For there the heaven-born plant, true friendship grows,
A fadeless flower, whose petals never die.
The name declare, that to the swain belongs,
Who taught by Pan, to blow the rustic reed,
The nymphs delighted with his pastoral songs,
That in soft cadence echoed through the mead:
And when he died, five faithful dogs, they say,
(Their gentle master hidden from their eyes)
All sustenance refus'd, to grief a prey,
And pin'd to death; affection's sacrifice!
A town in celebrated Latium found,
Where Astura's undulating waters roll;
There, young Augustus trod the classic round,
While yet ambition slumber'd in his soul.
Lastly, behold a god of potent sway,
Stretch'd on his ebon couch, in a dark cave
Impervious to the beams of gairish day,
And lull'd by murmurs of the Lethean wave;
Pillow'd by drowsy herbs and poppy leaves
Supine he lays, while round on noiseless wings
Fantastic visions flit, and fancy weaves
The dream unreal, of incongruous things:
Ah! gentle power! befriend the child of woe,
No longer shun the lid by sorrow stain'd,
But o'er the wretch thy sable mantle throw,
And calm the breast too long by anguish pain'd.
These various names in order due unite;
See, far beyond the bound of Saturn, rise
A new-found planet, whose diminish'd light
Is seen alone by astronomic eyes:
To thee, good King! it consecrates its ray,
Whose eyes, no more shall greet the sun's blest beam,
Whose mind, no more shall feel fair wisdom's sway,
Nor reason's light, nor fancy's playful gleam:
Still thou art dear to every British heart;
Still virtue's rays thy setting sun adorn;
Dear must thou be, whilst memory can impart
What thou hast been, mild as the opening morn:
Dearer, than when with youthful vigor grac'd,
Britannia on thy brows her circlet bound,
And then exulting, o'er her island plac'd
A Prince, with wisdom as with virtue crown'd:
Shall thy declining orb unheeded set,
And unlamented sink to death's dark night?
Take with thee Sire, thy people's fond regret;
And in the morning, be thy rising bright.
FIRST, name a celebrated Indian sage,
Who follow'd in great Alexander's train;
When worn with sickness and benumb'd with age,
He sought by death to terminate his pain;
A pile he raises, deck'd with fragrant flowers,
Undaunted mounts, and, as undaunted fires;
Joyful, to seek the everlasting bowers,
With an heroic constancy expires:
Unknown the purer precepts, that command
To wait with patience the Almighty will,
Nor dare unbid to leave our earthly stand,
Though sickness torture, or life's winter chili:
Our better faith, a sure reward bestows
On each affliction with submission borne,
n better worlds, where labor shall repose,
And suffering virtue shall no longer mourn.
Say, who was that base votary of fame,
Who, the same night that Philip's son was born,
Gave Dian's temple to the raging flame,
And by the flagrant deed gain'd endless scorn,
The Persian beauty, whose alluring charms
Her conqueror bound, in Cupid's silken chain;
For, weak e'en Alexander's boasted arms,
'Gainst beauty's glance and love's insidious train:
Ah pity! that a frame by beauty form'd,
Where love and grace in soft assemblage meet,
Shoul'd hide a heart, by cruelty deform'd,
And be of fell revenge, the chosen seat!
A name, pertaining to that little god
Who over nature, all triumphant reigns,
Makes kings and potentates obey his nod,
And binds e'en boasting conqueror's in chains:
He ties a fillet round his votary's eyes,
Then leads him forth in willing slavery:
Oft times he lurks 'neath friendship's dear disguise,
And with compassion claims affinity.
A wily Grecian to the Trojans sent;
Skill'd to deceive and wear the mask of woe,
With art the counterfeited tale t'invent,
While from his eyes suborn'd, false sorrows flow:
A captive he appear'd, and Priam's audience gain'd,
By well dissembled plaints, and treacherous lies
The monarch's faith too easily obtain'd,
And made unhappy Troy the sacrifice.
The word compounded of th' initials, names
Piazzi's infant planet, whose dim ray
The bounteous goddess of Sicilia claims;
Her, to whom husbandmen their homage pay.
TH' ambitious son of Clymene the fair:
A boon he crav'd of his too yielding sire;
The venturous youth was trusted with the care
Of Phœbus' chariot and his steeds of fire:
The raging coursers scorn'd his puny rein,
Forsook the Zodiac's beaten path, and tore
Impetuous, headlong through the spangled plain,
And pranc'd and plung'd midst stars unseen before;
Till near the wondering earth they bent their way,
Her streamlets drain'd, absorb'd her every tear;
When Jove, to save her from the scorching ray,
With thunder struck the youthful charioteer:
Then first, they say, the Ethiop's skin was stain'd,
Sear'd by the near approach of solar flame;
Then Lybian deserts first of moisture drain'd
A barren waste and sterile sand became.
A matron noted for connubial love:
Vainly she hop'd her absent lord's return;
In vain for him the splendid vesture wove,
No more for her, was Love's pure torch to burn:
His shipwreck'd corse, by wafting waves was borne,
Where dumb with woe the wretched widow stood:
Ah! blame her not, ye hearts that know to mourn,
That wild with grief she plung'd into the flood:
The desperate, deed the pitying Gods forgave,
And into halcyons chang'd the constant pair;
On purple wings they skim the placid wave,
And on th' unruffled deep their nest prepare.
Then name that stream, whose sluggish waters creep
In dark meanders through the shades below;
Whence souls departed, drink oblivion deep
Ere in this world, with life renew'd they glow.
An ancient city of the Albion state,
Founded ere Nero wore th' imperial robe;
For in his time 'twas opulent and great;
And now may vie with any on the globe.
And next, the pride of Trojan matrons tell;
Her, whose sad eyes beheld her lord, her joy,
(When slain by fierce Achilles' arm he fell)
Dragg'd ignominious round the walls of Troy;
Beheld yet liv'd, reserv'd for other woes,
Reserv'd, to hear her much-lov'd infant's scream,
When headlong hurl'd, from off the tower that rose
In awful grandeur o'er Scamander's stream:
Then doom'd in Grecian bondage to bewail
Her mighty griefs, her lord, her infant slain;
Woes, which to heal, e'en lenient time must fail;
And which to paint, the Muse attempts in vain.
Lastly, a celebrated king of Egypt, name,
Who, ere the Trojan war, some ages reign'd;
Though so remote, unfaded is his fame,
And wide and far the conquests he obtain'd:
His chariot see, by captive monarchs drawn;
Yet peaceful arts he deigned to cultivate,
And Egypt still rejoices, he was born,
For still his labors benefit the state.
These join'd—the mind a glimmering star beholds,
That its new fame to sapient Olbers owes;
With silent pace its steady course it holds,
And sacred to the blue-eyed goddess glows.
NAME the young hero of admiring Greece,
Who smitten by the glorious love of fame,
Adventurous sail'd to fetch the golden fleece;
A deed deserving of a hero's name:
His foes by Medea's incantations charm'd;
The fiery bulls to the rough plough he chain'd;
The teeth he sow'd, the earth-born men disarm'd,
The dragon lull'd, the golden prize obtain'd:
The flag exulting wav'd on Argo's stern,
That bore the valorous chief triumphant home:
From Medea's barbarous deeds the Muse must turn,
Nor stain the page with cruelty's dark gloom.
The Grecian chieftain who in youth's fair bloom,
When summon'd to the siege of heaven-built Troy,
Feign'd madness, not to leave his native home,
His blooming consort and his infant boy:
His plough he drove quick o'er the barren sand,
With well-dissembled wildness in his air;
Straight in his way, a wary Grecian's hand
His new-born infant plac'd, with gentlest care;
With tender heed, the father turn'd aside
The shining share, and prov'd, that reason sway'd
Who thus, with skilful hand the plough could guide,
And leave the furrow where his child was laid.
A peaceful king by infant Rome belov'd,
Who, to Egeria nightly visits paid,
And in a grot from human haunts remov'd,
Receiv'd the precepts of the heavenly maid:
Wisdom his nymph—for nightly in retreat,
To contemplation and to silence given,
The art he learnt of being truly great,
By virtuous knowledge, dictated by Heaven.
A Tribune hateful, to the dames of Rome
Whose flowing robes with gold effulgent shone;
His laws repress'd the party color'd loom,
And curb'd the splendour of the glittering zone.
Th' initials join'd—through the long tube is seen
A little star, by Harding shewn to fame;
Sacred its tiny ray to Heaven's fair queen,
And known to mortals by her splendid name.
THE Goddess name, who rising from the flood,
Apelles' pencil drew with matchless skill;
Supreme in native loveliness she stood,
And bloom'd obedient to the painter's will.
The favor'd Shepherd, who on Latmos' height,
Soon as grey evening drew her curtains round,
Was courted by the gentle queen of night;
The Goddess, with the silver crescent crown'd.
Next tell those Nymphs whose warbling melody,
In such extatic bliss inthrall'd the soul;
The listening ear had then, no power to fly
Such soft delight o'er every fibre stole;
E'en thought of distant home occurr'd in vain,
Of absent wife, or long-expecting son;
None could resist the fascinating strain,
But bless'd the charm, by which they were undone.
Then recollect the Babylonian maid;
Amongst the fair, the fairest she was found;
One ardent passion all her bosom sway'd
And round her willing heart its fetters bound:
Alas! it brav'd her parents' stern control;
By Hesper guided, one ill-fated night;
Unseen by all, the trembling damsel stole
To meet her lover, where the moon's pale light
Shew'd the white fruit, that on the mulberry hung,
Now chang'd to purple by the lovers' fate;
A fate, so oft by abler poets sung,
No need the mournful sequel to relate.
Lastly, the Maid who with Minerva vied,
Who best could ply the imitative art,
Athwart the warp the varying shuttle guide,
And to the wool a mimic life impart:
Alas! presumption ever finds its doom;
By Pallas baffled, the desponding maid
Herself suspended on her faithless loom:
The angry Goddess death's relief denied:
To a vile spider chang'd, th' industrious fair
Spins ever and anon her texture fine,
Obnoxious to the cleanly housewife's care;
Who pitiless destroys the skilful line.
Th' initials join'd, direct the searching eye
To where a star unnotic'd and unknown,
Roll'd its small orb along the glittering sky;
Like some poor relative at distance thrown:
Till penetrating Olbers sees its worth,
And on it, planetary fame bestows;
Now claiming kindred with our wandering earth,
The humble sparkler with new interest glows.
THE Goddess name, whose early smiles adorn
With love's own tint, the eastern skirts of morn;
The rosy finger'd harbinger of day,
Whose diamonds glisten in the sidelong ray.
That mother, whose maternal love contrives,
By various means, to save her infants' lives
From her suspicious husband's cruel power,
Who sought his new-born offspring to devour.
Name Juno's Messenger, to whom we owe
The transient beauties of the changeful bow;
Whose pitying hand the parting spirit frees,
When tir'd of life it seeks eternal ease.
Next her, of old, fam'd for connubial love,
Whom not Apollo's blandishments could move;
Who on her husband's pile resign'd her breath;
The sacred flame uniting them in death.
Then the fair dame, renown'd for giving birth
To the plump rosy god of wit and mirth,
Who unto men the fatal secret taught,
How sparkling wine could from the grape be brought.
Th' initials join'd, will that kind season shew,
When Sol's warm beam dissolves the winter's snow:
Then infant feet along the meadows stray,
To seek the violet fragrant, and the primrose gay;
Sweet emblems of themselves, as artless and as meek,
While native candour decks each cherub cheek.
THE city, that did ten long years withstand
The arms and efforts of the Grecian band:
The bravest hero of that hostile train,
Who rous'd to vengeance for Patroclus slain,
Challeng'd the mighty Hector to the fight,
And sunk Troy's glory in eternal night.
The wily chief whose stratagem betray'd,
And Ilion's lofty towers in ruin laid.
The Lycian king for rigid justice fam'd;
For which a judge in Pluto's empire nam'd.
Next, name that river, whose black wave surrounds
With nine deep windings the infernal bounds;
By which dread stream, the Gods adjur'd their fate;
An oath, not Jove himself durst violate.
These shew a sign, when clouds and sunshine vie,
Which shall obtain the empire of the sky;
Like life's gay morn, ere anxious feeling bleeds,
When the quick smile the transient tear succeeds.
Then listen to the cuckoo's simple note,
That finds an echo in each urchin's throat;
Companion faithful, of green, skirted spring,
Reviving nature joys to hear thee sing!
NAME the fair Phrygian youth, whom Jove espied
Feeding his flocks on Ida's fertile side,
And sent th' imperial bird to fetch the boy,
To pour out nectar in the realms of joy.
The hapless maid, whose viewless form retains
A babbling voice, returning others' strains;
Answering each sigh, repeating every tale
Which plaintive sorrow flings upon the gale.
Think then of that dear maid, to whom we owe
The pensive pleasures that from memory flow:
Through the long vista seen, of years gone by,
With softer tints each object charms the eye.
That beauteous nymph, who to a heifer chang'd
Through many a mead, o'er many a mountain rang'd;
'Till freed at last from jealous Juno's hate,
Became a Goddess of th' Egyptian state.
That Lydian mother, arrogant and vain,
Whose children were by wrathful Dian slain:
Benumb'd with grief the wretched mother stands
A marble statue, from no sculptor's hands
But chang'd by sorrow; on her pallid face
The stony tears, for ever hold their place.
Th' ill fated youth, who in too venturous flight
On waxen wings, fell from th' ethereal height,
And plunging headlong in the briny tide,
He nam'd a sea that Grecian isles divide.
These shew the sign when morning's early tear
Glistens a dew-drop unto beauty dear:
Then the gay lark her cheerful carol sings,
And wafts her raptures on her soaring wings:
The village beauty wakes to cull each floweret blown,
And bear her posies to the slumbering town.
A CITY that adorn'd old Afric's clime,
Rival of Rome, and boast of ancient time;
Through brilliant years its splendid victories shine,
But forc'd at last its laurels to resign,
The faithless race, unto destruction given,
Felt the just arm of an avenging Heaven.
The parent and the pride of Grecian states,
Which, (as th' historian's faithful page relates)
Deserv'd the wonder of the great and wise;
Whence arts and learning drew their rich supplies.
An ancient city on Campania's plains,
In which soft clime a spring perpetual reigns;
Whose hard inhabitants did once refuse
A cup of water, to the Mantuan muse;
Th' indignant poet blotted out the lays,
Which else had eterniz'd the city's praise.
A little town that in Apulia lay,
Which nam'd the battle of that fatal day,
When Roman blood enrich'd the thirsty plain,
And forty thousand fell, by Carthage slain.
A city to Diana much endear'd,
Whose piety the wond'rous temple rear'd.
And last, the seven hill'd city, fam'd of old
For patriots firm, and deeds of warriors bold.
The sign resulting from th' initials shews
When from her lap, the wanton Flora throws
The painted tulip and the flaunting rose:
Then Nature's music swells through wood and grove
And new to life the insect myriads rove,
With wings innumerous fan the tepid air,
And in the common joy of nature share.
THE Roman matron whose chaste honor slain
By lawless vice, aveng'd the guiltless stain
On her own breast; the poignard plunging deep,
Clos'd her pure eyes in everlasting sleep.
The regions of the blest by poets feign'd,
Where halcyon peace and every pleasure reign'd;
The fairest scene that fancy ever drew,
Or poets' raptured vision ever knew.
That royal dame for whose bewitching charms
The god-like hero laid aside his arms
Content amidst her simple maids to spin,
Whilst she assum'd his club and lion's skin.
These tell the sign when Sol most ardent gleams,
And fainting nations sink beneath his beams;
To cool retreats and chequer'd shades repair
From all the din of sultry cities far:
Rise ere the bee begins her early task,
And ere the nestling wakes its food to ask,
While yet the dew-drop trembles on the thorn,
Arise, and taste the balmy breath of morn;
Take the long devious walk that friendship loves,
Where converse sweet the passing hour improves:
And when the sun has reach'd the west, inhale
The spicy sweets that scent the evening gale.
A ROMAN Maid, whose virgin beauties charm'd
The tyrant Appius, who with greatness arm'd
His trembling victim seiz'd; the father came,
And urg'd in vain, a father's tender claim:
In frantic woe, he snatch'd the fatal knife,
And sav'd his daughter's honor, with her life.
A Phrygian Mount, upon whose woody height
The Gods descended, to behold the fight
Where heroes fell, by happier heroes slain;
And Greeks and Trojans press'd th' ensanguin'd plain.
The patriot Hero, whose firm heart withstood,
Nor shrunk from suffering for his country's good;
A Roman Hero of patrician race,
Adorn'd with every virtue, every grace;
His peerless merit, all but envy charm'd;
Rome's grateful tears his memory embalm'd.
The darling Son of Melody, whose lay
The rapid river in its course could stay,
Move listening rocks, the angry winds assuage,
And make e'en savage breasts forget their rage,
Th' initials join—the word will shew a sign
When rich Pomona hangs the clust'ring vine;
Then golden harvests crown the waving fields,
And every bush its luscious juices yields:
Can man unmov'd the wide profusion see,
And not rejoice in nature's jubilee?
Shall not his heart with grateful feeling glow,
Towards th' all bounteous hand from which these blessings flow?
THE glorious Chief who, firm in virtue's cause,
Reform'd the Spartans, and compos'd their laws:
No coward walls to Lacedæmon gave,
But, for a rampart, made his people brave.
The sturdy Beggar who maintain'd his stand,
'Till forc'd by brave Ulysses' chastening hand,
When he return'd, to bless his native isle,
And free Penelope from suitors vile.
A City built when time itself was young,
Whose hundred gates on brazen hinges hung:
Now levell'd with the dust its towering height,
Nor left one stone to tell its former site.
An Infant, who expos'd on Tyber's bank,
Cradled in water weeds and rushes dank,
A she-wolf found, and foster'd with her love:
(For fellest beasts may angel pity move)
On savage milk the embryo hero grew,
From whom great Rome her earliest dawning drew.
The Grecian Worthy, who, 'midst venal rust,
Obtain'd the glorious title of "the just;"
No recompence he sought for acting well,
But wrote his name upon the proffer'd shell.
These names in order range, a sign behold,
When day and night an equal empire hold:
The harvest in, rough Industry may rest,
And grateful view earth's copious bosom blest
With laughing plenty, and the yellow grain
In order stack'd, upon the russet plain.
A MONSTER, who devour'd the human race,
(An emblem fit of vice) her beauteous face
Conceal'd a body foul and hideous tail:
Wrapt in enigmas dark her arts prevail;
'Till one resolv'd by Œdipus the wise,
The charm is broken, and the monster dies.
Hell's horrid Porter, who on Pluto's coast,
From Charon's boat, receiv'd the pallid ghost;
Who with three heads and gaping mouths was arm'd,
Which Orpheus by his heavenly music charm'd,
What time, his lov'd Eurydice he sought
And from those realms, his soul's prime treasure nigh had brought.
A useful Beast, by the Egyptians made
The symbol of a God, to whom they paid
Honors divine; by superstition led
The flower-crown'd victim on his altars bled.
That Steed, by his brave master much caress'd,
To which he that pathetic speech address'd
Recorded in the poet's deathless lay,
(Or else had never reach'd our distant day)
When breathing vengeance for his Lausus slain,
He rush'd impetuous on the bloody plain.
The name of that wing'd Servant of the Muse,
Whom poets of all ranks full oft abuse;
By critics too, most surly, kick'd at will;
Yet still he waits, the poet's servant still.
Then, name that Courser, whose degenerate lor
Was justly by the Roman world abhorr'd;
A bivalve Fish, renown'd in attic lore,
For the great names which on its shell it bore,
When by ambition spurr'd, they sought to gain
A height, the laws forbad them to attain.
These creatures join—a sign they will declare,
When pestilential vapours fill the air;
Yet not devoid of charms the varied scene,
Where autumn's mellow tints usurp the vivid green;
The mountain-ash her coral berries shews,
And china-aster gay still lingering blows,
Which gentle Flora as a parting gift bestows.
THE virtuous Tutor of the prince most vile,
Who welcom'd death with an approving smile,
When to the tyrant's base commands he bow'd,
And from his veins the crimson current flow'd.
That Dog, most faithful of the faithful race,
Who knew his master, though with alter'd face,
From youthful beauty chang'd to ripen'd grace,
By time's all mellowing hand, who now had spread,
With silver honors, his majestic head:
The servant too was chang'd, the hand of time
Had stolen his vigour and destroy'd his prime;
And the long lapse of twenty years gone by,
Had injured his fine scent, and dimm'd his eye:
He who was left a puppy at the board,
Could now scarce crawl to welcome home his lord;
Yet through his vile disguise his long lost lord he spied,
Look'd in dum eloquence his joy, and died.
That once fam'd Country, whose meridian bright
Has long been set in intellectual night;
Those academic shades where wisdom trod,
Of slave or despot, now the vile abode;
Where free philosophy once charm'd the soul,
Now, the dark waves of superstition roll:
Ill-fated country! who can e'er refuse
To weep thy fate, with Byron's plaintive Muse,
And curse with him those goth-like hands, that dare
Thy classic relics from thy bosom tear.
Now, name me that illustrious Grecian maid,
Who bound, and on Diana's altar laid:
The Youth, on whom her arts Calypso tried;
But taught by Mentor, he Love's darts defied;
For Love, unlucky urchin! rarely gains
The smile of wisdom to reward his pains.
Of that fair Goddess-mother, tell the name,
Whom Homer styles the "silver-footed dame."
Then name her Son, whom holding by his heel,
She made impervious to the warlike steel,
By dipping him in Styx' tremendous wave,
Whence he emerg'd, the bravest of the brave;
Yet doom'd to fall by the sly Trojan's dart
Aim'd at the heel, his only mortal part.
The Island, where in art's resplendent morn,
The brazen statue rear'd its giant form,
And sternly brav'd the fury of the storm.
That Mortal rash, for his presumption hurl'd
To Pluto's realms, deep, deep beneath the world;
There on the restless wheel, eternal bound,
His dizzy form is whirl'd for ever round.
A General of old, whose song could charm
The poisonous serpent and its power disarm;
Listening, the fascinated reptile lost its rage,
And curl'd obedient to the charmer sage.
Name then the Lesbian Fair, whose lays divine,
Rank her the sister of the tuneful nine;
For amorous passion as for song renown'd,
Herself, for Phaon's love, at last she drown'd.
Unite these names, the combination shews
When gloomy fogs prevail, or piercing Boreas blows,
And with diminish'd rays faint Phœbus glows,
The joyless year, by ruthless winter chang'd,
Hard as the thought of bosom friend estrang'd:
The muse has felt the pang, and feeling still must weep:
Heaven save thee, Reader! from a wound so deep.
THAT Poet name, whose fascinating lay,
Cheers the sad soul with hope's enlivening ray;
In softest colors drest the cherub smiles,
And of its cares, the woe-worn heart beguiles.
Then Him, immortal by the best of fame,
The friend of virtue, in the poet name;
Whether in Cato the firm patriot glows,
Or mild devotion from his bosom flows:
See modern vice in his Spectator lash'd,
And bold effrontery forc'd to turn abash'd.
A Poet next, the wonder of his age;
The Muse he courted but to make her sage,
With him she rang'd throughout all nature free,
Her song subservient to philosophy,
Did every maze of human passion scan,
And analyz'd that curious compound, Man.
Next, that sweet Bard, who with bewitching song
Recalls the joys that to the past belong:
Scenes long gone by which drew a tender tear,
By memory's magic touch, rise doubly dear.
That holy Bard, whose minstrelsy divine
Prophetic flows, through every heaven-taught line;
His hallow'd lips with sacred fire refin'd,
The prophet's language with the poet's join'd.
A gentle Poet of the present day,
Who makes the wretched, subjects of his lay;
His sympathizing Muse delights to tell
Of woe—ah, pitying Bard! who can so well
A Latin Poet next, the Muse reveals,
Who taught the arts in which sly Cupid deals:
How Gods and Goddesses transform'd and chang'd,
This poet tells, when on our earth they rang'd:
In never-tiring verse, he tells again
Of men transform'd to brutes, and brutes to men.
Those "potent, grave and reverend Seigniors"
The dread of Writers all, though Scotts or Mores,
Who keep their awful court on Scottish land,
And tyrants rule o'er all the poet band;
Save o'er poor nameless wights, who find perchance,
A shelter in their insignificance;
Those who like me, appear in borrow'd plumes,
Or weave up ancient stuff in modern looms;
Who if they shine, 'tis with a glow-worm light,
Splendid by favor of surrounding night.
Then, him sublime of soul! whose searching mind
Did all the hidden depths of wisdom find:
High favor'd Man! to whose enamour'd arms,
Nature unveil'd, resign'd up all her charms:
'Twas his, t' unravel the prime rays of light,
And curb the wandering beauties of the night.
A name, by many a haughty Pope assum'd,
Whilst in the church rank superstition bloom'd;
The Attic-bee, amongst the number fam'd;
For Grecian lore and Grecian sweetness nam'd.
And last, a star that gilds the present day,
His genius charms us in his Minstrel's lay;
With varying grace delights in Marmion's gloom,
And changing still, enchants in Ellen's bloom:
Change as he will, to please is still his doom.
These shew a month when few delight to roam,
Then, dearest are the joys of dear-lov'd home;
The social circle round the blazing hearth,
Full light of heart, enjoy the flights of mirth,
Or more sedate, some poet's lay invites,
Or "Music's melting voice" the listening ear delights;
Still the soft charm of kindred love goes round,
From heart to heart responsive joys abound.
A SACRED Fount whose crystal waters flow'd
Through classic shades, and the soft stream bestow'd
To which the Graces all their beauties gave,
Unbrac'd their polish'd limbs and sought the wave.
The peaceful Goddess who delights in rest,
Queen of indifference, whose ever tranquil breast
Nor love, nor transport knows, nor joy, nor woe;
But like the lake whose sleeping waters shew
Sol's beam reflected, which no eddy breaks,
When not a breath the trembling aspin shakes.
Mountains that in Armenia raise their head,
Where rapid Tigris forms his oozy bed.
A river rising 'midst the Apennines,
Whose well-known name in Roman story shines;
For the great Cæsar when he led his ranks
Towards mighty Rome, awhile upon its banks
Appall'd, the hesitating Hero stood,
Ere he durst pass the interdicted flood.
A rough barbarian flood, scarce known to song,
That many an humbler river bears along,
Compell'd their tributary urns to bring,
And aid the torrent of their watery king;
His raging force increas'd by northern snows,
Spurning the keel, in headlong cataracts flows,
'Till in the Euxine his proud waves subside,
And blend resistless with a softer tide.
A Country, named from its umbrageous plains;
Or from its clouded skies and frequent rains.
Of that delusive Fount the name impart,
Whose fatal taste enervated the heart;
Exanimate the frame, the slacken'd nerves unstrung,
The soften'd soul in listless languor hung,
'Till all dissolv'd by the insidious flood,
The man was chang'd to feeble womanhood:
Emblem of pleasure, whose too soft control
Destroys the virtue of the yielding soul.
These words unite, a sign there will appear,
When dripping rains obscure the infant year;
Yet still with joy, we mark the lengthening day,
As nearer to the west, we catch the parting ray,
When oft at eventide, a sudden gleam we view,
That seems to speak through tears, a kind adieu.
THE modest Sage, who taught 'midst Attic shades,
How the Great Being Nature's works pervades,
Taught how he fills, sustains and moves the whole:
Taught the high value of the human soul,
An emanation of the Deity.
And plac'd in virtue, true philosophy.
An ancient Harbour on the Gallic coast,
Whence cross'd the Roman with th' invading host:
Albion's white cliffs were crown'd with verdure rare,
And Cæsar coveted an isle so fair.
Amongst the wise, the wisest and the best
Fair virtue's beauty in his life exprest,
Sublime in simple innocence it shone,
And taught the worship due to God alone:
Th' Athenians, blind in superstitious rage,
Hated the doctrine, and condemn'd the sage:
The patient martyr yielded up his breath
To hateful hemlock, noxious plant of death!
A Man whose soft humanity endears:
His memory grateful China still reveres;
So pure his morals, and so priz'd his worth,
That when he died, 'twas said to punish earth
Heaven call'd him home; thus to the good is given
By nature's voice, affinity with Heaven!
A Greek Philosopher, whose moral rules
Were misapplied amongst the ancient schools;
Pleasure and happiness were one, he taught,
But not such pleasure as the senses sought;
Not to unbridl'd
lust to give the rein:
Virtue, his pleasure was, and vice his pain.
One of the Seven, whom Greece is proud to claim,
To whom great Athens owes her highest fame;
This Sage abhorr'd the murderer of time,
And in his laws, made idleness a crime.
These names combine—then sober breezes bring
The snow-drop chaste, sweet promise of the spring,
With rapture hail'd, by every little wing
That taught by love to form the downy nest,
Awaits the joy, that warms the parent breast,
When the first chirp salutes her anxious ear,
And wakes her heart to feel a mother's tender care.
THE Muse attracted by bright Phœbus' ray,
Has travelled through the Zodiac's glittering way;
Has mark'd the Bull with his bright eye of gold,
And Leda's Twins their silvery light unfold;
Seen Leo glow with Sol's refulgent heat,
And Virgo blush his ardent gaze to meet;
Beheld the Earth on her soft axle, roll
Alternate to the Sun each frozen pole;
Observ'd each Star that drinks the solar ray,
And Luna fair who emulates the day;
View'd countless Suns through telescopic nights,
Myriads on myriads crowding on the sight,
With wonder view'd, with adoration glows,
Of that Great Hand from which all beauty flows.
HAIL Friendship! soft heart-easing pow'r!
Whose influence in grief's saddest hour,
My Muse would grateful sing;
Oh! deign thy Votary to inspire,
Or lend her some kind Seraph's lyre,
And tune each golden string.
When melancholy dark and foul,
Sits hovering o'er the drooping soul,
And from her humid wing
Drops misery, thy magic eye
Can chace all care, bid sorrow fly,
Or extricate its sting.
When sickness with its galling chain,
Confines us on the bed of pain
And bids enjoyment cease,
Thy lenient hand distils a balm,
Restores the soul its wonted calm,
And points the way to peace,
Dissimulation base and vile,
Too oft assumes thy gentle smile,
With accent mild and sweet;
Hence, Sages call thee but a name,
The fond chimera of the brain
And offspring of deceit.
But, sure thou art of heav'nly birth;
Sometimes a visitant on earth,
In kind indulgence sent
To wipe the tear from sorrow's eye,
To blunt the thorn of misery,
Or gild it with content.
WOULD ye be blest, ye sons of men? oh say!
Would ye see good in this your mortal day?
Restrain each wayward word, each sinful thought,
Be slow to blame, and hide a brother's fault:
The Power supremely good, for ever blest,
Regards with pitying eye the good distrest.
Who is it, think ye, that shall harm ye,
If good and virtuous actions charm ye?
To the good man e'en bitterest griefs shall prove
The gracious mandates of chastising love,
Man's dross and imperfections to refine,
And raise the human nature to divine.
FATHER of all, who on this varied earth
Have trod, since blooming nature first had birth;
Thou, who supreme in glory sitt'st, all worlds above,
Yet hear'st Thy children's prayer with pitying love,
Bless'd by Thy name, through all creation round;
Bless'd be Thy name, wherever man is found,
Whate'er his color, or whate'er his land,
From Zembla's frozen coast, to Lybia's burning sand:
Be Thy dominion felt in every heart;
To every breast Thy heavenly grace impart,
That as the Seraph joys to do Thy will,
So may Thy sons on earth, Thy holy laws fulfil:
Thou, from whose bounty all our blessings flow,
On us, this day, Thy wonted gifts bestow: