ARMED FORCES MEDICAL LIBRARY | Washington, D. C. r {(oKto+'Z T THE A POEM; IN TWO CANTOS: WITH SOME SMALLER PIECES; AND A MONODY ON THE DEATH OF JOHN SYNG DORSEY, M.D BY THE AUTHOR OF LORD BTRON'S FAREWEIL TO EnIlA!Jd,0 rJLfcRIMAGfcJrr VT ' THE HOLV LAI D-", AWD. OTHER PIECES. ' r - JAN.-^S.-1904 PHILADELPHIA:* * j tion: the contract was made, and the task was accom- plished; but it was not until the appearance of the poem in public, that the author discovered he had been a se- cond time made the instrument of a deception in which his will had taken no part. Whatever parallelism of character may be discoverable, between the"Flavius" of this production and lord Byron, must be considered as purely accidental: without aspiring to an arrogant ri- valry of genius with the noble poet, the author may be PRELIMINARY ADVERTISEMENT. IX allowed to claim a certain correspondence of feeling, a slight and partial relationship in poetic disposition. When this publication made its appearance, lord B)r- ron had left England, and was resident at Geneva; but his bookseller in London, stimulated, doubtless, by a laudable desire to vindicate his noble patron's fame, as well as by the apprehension that his own immediate interest might suffer from the appearance of a rival pub- lisher of poems, under the name of his lordship, applied for, and ultimately obtained an injunction from the lord chancellor, in consequence of which the name of lord Byron was expunged from all the subsequent editions of the poem. The effect of this measure was perhaps directly the reverse of that contemplated by Mr. Murray. Many of those individuals who dictate laws for taste, and re- gulations for opinion, cried up the " Pilgrimage" as a poem of no ordinary stamp; and conjecture, in vain, attempted to penetrate the obscurity with which the author had surrounded himself. In the mean time the success of the production kept pace with the march of curiosity, and the avarice of the publisher was grati- fied. X PRELIMINARY ADVERTISEMENT. " The Anti-Jacobin Review"* declared that it pos- sessed " strong claims to an elevated rank among the publications of the day," since it contained " evident marks of genius of no common cast." At the same time its political tendencies were noticed in terms of appropriate reprobation by the editor of that review— himself one of the most conspicuous retainers and inde-. fatigable advocates of an administration upon whose corruptions he fed and fattened. By the " Monthly Review," the poem was awarded a ' tribute of still more flattering and specific approbation. " We have not for a long time,"f writes the Editor, " encountered a more extraordinary effusion than thev present." " The author describes the coasts of Spain,, Portugal and Mauritania; or, rather he touches on the moral qualities of the inhabitants of each, with a pen rivalling (yes, almost rivalling) the facility of that of a Goldsmith." To this criticism is added an eulogetic estimate of the poetical powers of the author, and a de- claration that, with a trifling attention to certain pre- scribed rules he would soon " bear no token of the sable streams, " But mount far off amid the swans of Thames." * Vide Anti-Jacobin Review, November or December, 1817. i Vide Monthly Review, April, 1818. PRELIMINARY ADVERTISEMENT. XI Without unnecessary amplification, it may be per- mitted to the author to add to this statement that the poem entitled " Jacqueline," which is also published in the works of lord Byron, is the production of Mr. Rogers, to whose pen the world is also indebted for " The Pleasures of Memory." This fraud upon the public most probably originated with the booksel- ler of lord Byron; who, with a view to place it at a still greater distance from detection, included the fic- tion alluded to, in the volume which contained " La- ba;" in order that, being united in their birth and their form, they might be passed upon mankind as the off- spring of one muse. There was a manifest disingenu- ousness in this proceeding, which offers a fair set-off to the deception practised on society by the publisher of the " Farewell to England," the " Pilgrimage to the Holy Land," and the three minor pieces. For the first time, the true statement of the case is now sent forth to the world. All the thousand faults which the miscroscopic eye of criticism has discover^ ed, but of which the awe of genius may have hitherto prevented the development, can now be fearlessly exposed, and all the poisoned arrows of those who " have for wits, and then for poets past," Xii PRELIMINARY ADVERTISEMENT. and who have next become the self-created aristarehi of the age, may be levelled, perhaps with impunity, against the unnatural parent, whose deserted bantling has thus been introduced to society as the offspring of — titled talent. January, 1819. PREFACE. There are situations in which man is sometimes placed where, whatever may be the native ardor of his imagination, the rigid intensity of feeling will so re- press the workings of the fancy, and manacle the pro- per disposition of the mind, as effectually to suspend the functions of the faculties of wit and intelligence. A crowd of images rushing simultaneously upon the sight, necessarily creates a confusion in the orb of vi- sion, and renders its perception hurried, and indistinct; so a flood of excited passions, precipitated from the re- gion of the heart, deluges the retina of the brain, and destroys the clearness and harmony of its operations. Perhaps there is no circumstance more calculated to produce this intemperance of sensibility than that of emigration from a land upon which the unclosing eye threw its earliest glance, where the awakening sympa- thies of nature were first employed, where youth form- ed its sportive associations, and manhood learned to appreciate the charms of lore or friendship. Such an E XIV PREFACE. event constitutes an epoch in the calendar of hfe. The magic powers of the pencil may call forth from the can- vass the groupes of weeping fugitives, as " Downward they move, a melancholy band, " Pass from the shore, and darken all the strand:"— in the glowing numbers of poesy, that hour may be pictured to the mind's eye, " When the poor exiles, every pleasure past, " Hung round the bowers, and fondly look'd their last, " And took a long farewell, and wish'd in vain " For seats like these beyond the western main; " And shuddering still to face the distant deep, c< Return'd and wept, and still return'd to weep!" But the sudden and tremendous disruption of the most powerful feelings of the heart, which takes place at such a momentous period—the tumultuous fswell of passions chartered to rebel—the silent sinking of the softer affections—the aching effort of the eye strained to catch the lingering shadow of the object most be- loved—the suffocating gush of sorrow which breaks the j sound of the last farewell:—all the mightiest potencies of the imitative arts are weaknesses here; nature as- ; PRJFACE. XV serts her prerogative even at the peril of her being, and looks contemptuously upon the futile forgeries of the most daring genius. And after all, however persecution may urge, and oppression drive, it is much easier for a man to trans- port his person, than to transplant his affections from one country to another. These are plants of such a tenderness of nature that, once torn from their native soil, they require much time and careful cherishing be- fore they will take root in a new earth and under a new atmosphere. While recollections of past pleasures are fresh upon the brain, the strength of habit will exhibit no sensible marks of decay; and consequently the her- mit-heart will be conscious but of few and faint yearn- ings towards objects which it yet lacks the means to appreciate correctly; and it is generally the case, when ne-.v associations and engrafted feelings have blunted the edge of remembrance, and given a new direction to the passions of the breast, that the original attach- ments of the soul do not entirely subside, but settle down into a pensive tranquillity of affection which death alone can destroy. These remarks have been introduced, not so much for the purpose of extenuating any inaccuracies of con- XVI PREFACE. ception or versification which may be detected in the following pages (although the circumstances referred to might fairly be admitted as a plea in mitigation); as to lead on some observations respecting the causes of the increasing emigration from England to America at the present time. That there is great wealth in Britain it would be ab- surd to deny; but it is equally obvious that this wealth is very partially distributed among the community. The overwhelming mass of public debt, which swal- lows an annual interest of from forty to fifty millions sterling, is a perpetual source of oppressive taxation; and, independent of this regular outgoing, as the or- dinary expenditure of the government may be taken at near forty millions, the aggregate of the revenue to be provided reaches an enormous amount. To raise the means for this lavish application, inde- pendent of the proceeds from the departments of the customs and the excise, and the stamp office, heavy imposts are laid on every article of life. The tax upon windows bears a proportion of about one fourth to the whole rent of a house. There are besides duties upon the house, servants, dogs, armorial bearings, carriages, horses; and all these are independent of the city or pa- PREFACE. XVH rochial imposts, such as watch, lamp, scavenger, &c. and of the enormous indirect taxes paid in the pur- chase of every commodity, whether of real or artifi- cial necessity. i Upon the land occupier, however, the burden falls with the greatest weight; for, leaving out of the esti- mate all the taxes above described, which he has to pay in common with others, the poor's-rate in many districts of England, exceeds the amount of the annu- al rent of farms by one third, and in some, by one half: —for instance, the rent taken at 3001. per annum, the charge for poor's-rate varies, in such cases, from 400 to 450/. a year. " In a variety of instances," accord- ing to information laid before parliament, in the year 1816, " the farmers who lately paid to these rates, have been obliged to give up their farms, and are actually become paupers themselves, and receive parochial al- lowances like other paupers; and this increased burden in many parishes occurs while some farms are unoccu- pied or run waste." By order of the house of commons, the board of Ag- riculture, in the same year, circulated through the country a variety of queries, for the purpose of ascer- taining the agricultural state of the kingdom. Out of b 2 XV111 PREFACE. two hundred and seventy-nine answers as to the state of occupation, one hundred and forty-nine letters men- tioned farms, unoccupied by tenants, being thrown on the landlord's hands; and seventeen others enumerated farms which had become uncultivated, for want of being occupied by the landlords. On the subject of notices to quit, the answers were two hundred and sixty-five: in ninety-four letters, the expression was, " many farmers have given notice to quit:" in ninety, " several or afew have given notice:" in nineteen, " alt that can have given notice." With respect to reduction of rents, one hundred and ninety returns were received, specifying the propor- tionate reduction, the average being twenty-five per cent. The land rents of the kingdom are estimated at thirty-six millions, and the loss of twenty-five per cent would reduce them to twenty-seven millions; but, in- dependent of this deficiency, the amount of unpaid arrears is enormous. The general state of husbandry at this period, was deplorable in the extreme: bankruptcies, seizures, executions, imprisonments, anjl farmers become parish paupers are particularly mentioned in language deno- ting extreme distress and absolute ruin. The want of PREFACE. XIX employment for the labouring poor had diffused misery and wretchedness to an alarming degree. During an interval of three or four years, the average increase in the poor's-rate, according to one hundred and twenty-nine communications, was forty-two per cent. From these terrifying statements the inferences must be decisively against the expectation of that rapid improvement in the state of English agriculture, which had, for some years previous, taken place. The imme- diate effect of the distress which prevailed, is the gene- ral neglect of the use of all purchased manures, toge- ther with a discharge of labourers formerly employed, to an amount which must considerably affect the future cultivation of the soil. The more remote consequen- ces must be a sensible defectiveness of produce, a cor- responding advance in the price of the necessaries of life, and a progressive aggravation of those miseries which, in their present extent, are scarcely tolerable. In such a state of things, the English farmer, find- ing himself unable to oppose any effectual resistance to the torrent of adverse circumstances at home, natu- rally grasps the hope of repairing his wasted means by the operations of his industry in some new region, where the fruits of exertion may not be perpetually destroyed by the mildew of excessive taxation. The \X PREFACE. American continent opens to him an unbounded scope of facilities, as well as rewards, for laborious perseve- rance. It requires but a small share of resolution to alienate himself from enjoyments in which his poverty will not permit him to participate: to tear himself from the seat of his nativity, the scene of his habits and as- \ sociations, the soil of his own cultivation, perhaps of his own creation, demands a sterner effort of fortitude, j Probably in the moment of his hesitation, while hope is still inclined to linger on the possibility of some fa- vourable change which may prevent him from severing himself from the connexions which years have cement- ed, the surly tax-gatherer knocks at his door, to repeat once more, in a tone of inhuman menace, the demand which had been often reiterated; and then, with a prison opening on one hand, and liberty, and at least the prospect of fortune on the other, his will coincides with his interest, and he bids a long farewell to the un- grateful soil which rejects his appeal for sustenance and support. To discuss the effects which the increasing spirit of emigration may produce upon the situation of England would be to swell this preface to an unnecessary length, and to give it too much the air of a political disquisi- tion. But it may not be irrelevant to remark that the PREFACE. XXI importation of so considerable an aggregate of indus- try, physical ability, enterprize, and wealth into this hemisphere, must influence consequences of the most brilliant importance to the march of American great- ness. At this moment she appears as an immense re- servoir of life, into which all the ducts and arteries of European strength are rapidly and regularly emptying themselves. And who can say where these tributary tides shall ceaser1 What arrogance of speculation shall impose a limit on the growing strength of this new and interesting section of the universe? The eye of anti- cipation is lost in pursuing the expanding develop- ment of her political character, and in determining the station she is destined to fill in the map and nomen- clature of empires. In the revolutions of ages, she may cover the ocean with her ships, and dispense laws and impart commercial prosperity to states which now as- sume to look down upon her with contempt; and, like the Roman republic, receive homage from thrones. and count monarchs in the train of her vassals. That the British ministers are not without serious apprehensions as to the effects which may ultimately be produced by this extensive emigration, is sufficiently clear in the tone adopted by their hired newspapers, which, according to their instructions, are ever and anon sighing forth their hypocritical lamentations over those deluded individuals who have been tempted to leave the solid comforlsof an European home, for the, Canaan of the western wilderness. Studied misrepre- sentation, however, although it may be a very fit instru- ment of corruption and despotism, is seldom an effe tual one. In consequence of the vast bodies of emi- grants who have reached this country, and communi^ cated their reports to those who yet remain in a state of indecision; the real facts are daily developing them- selves through multiplied and multiplying channels, to the utter discomfiture of ignorant prejudice and inte- rested falsehood. Would the British government put a stop to emigration, it must be checked by the adop- tion of a sounder system of domestic policy, by an immediate and effectual abridgment of the pension list, by a reduction of the military establishment, and the introduction of a controlling principle of rigid economy in all the departments of the state, in the room of that prodigality .and that corruption which have produced the existing distresses. England holds out to her farmer a tenure burdened with ruinous taxes, which necessarily cramp his efforts* in the cultivation of the soil. America, for a less sum than a year's rent of a farm beyond the Atlantic, gives 1 PREFACE. XXllI to her husbandman the fee simple of his land, accom- panied by a comparative freedom from taxation. In the British government the influence of the crown has increased, is increasing, and aims at an absolute sway, while the weight and authority of the people suffer di- minution in an equal proportion; a military force is on most occasions suffered to supersede a civil police, and the money extorted from the subject is applied to his own enslavement. The influence of the American citi- zen in his government, gives him a substantive degree of independence; the extent of taxation to which he is subjected, instead of paralyzing his industry, serves as a stimulus to his exertions; want and wretchedness are only the necessary heritage of indolence and depravity; no predatory band of pensioners and placemen, beyond the limit of political expediency, demands the superior moiety of his earnings; no revenues for royal pomp, no courtly pageants extract their aliment from his wasted means; no tithesmen decimate his harvest. Striking indeed is the contrast! The glory of Britain has pass- ed its meridian, and shapes a declining course: the sun of Columbia majestically rises above the political.ho- rizon, and distant nations mark its increasing splendor with envy and apprehension. May its beams shine to the remotest shores of the world; and may ages beyond the calculation of fancy find cause to rejoice in its radiance! THE ©©ISAM H&lBIPo CANTO I. TO HUMPHREY HOWORTH, Esq. M. P. &c. &c. &c. BERKLEY SQUARE, LONDON. MY DEAR SIR, Although the waters of the Atlantic roll between us, they have not the power to efface one of those moments of delightful intercourse, which me- mory loves to cherish; and as those atoms of time derived their chief delight from your presence, so the recollection of them would be necessarily imperfect and unsatisfactory, did it not bring back your image to " my mind's eye," and all the amiabilities of your character to my heart. Independent, however, of all personal feeling, when I review your inflexible integrity in the British Par- liament, during a long succession of years, uniformly opposing that system of corruption, and that march of despotism, which menace not only the liberties, but even the political existence of our country, I know of none to whom, with greater propriety, I can address the following Canto. XXViii DEDICATION. Accept it then, my dear friend, as a blended tribute of public and private respect; and with it receive the assurance that neither distance of time, nor of situ- ation, can qualify the sincerity with which I subscribe myself Your faithful and devoted Friend and Servant, J. A. Philadelphia, January, 1819. INTRODUCTION TO CANTO I. There is a spell of beauty on the deep— A soothing, silent, solitary charm, That chains th' imprisoned waters in their keep— Of ocean's God, as if the viewless arm Dropp'd on her curv'd and crystal architrave And shed a torpid terror o'er the wave.— There is a chasteness of repose— A breathlessness—which midnight throws Athwart such scene, when breezes fail, And idly flaps the shivering sail— When stars and planets lend their light T' extend the loneliness of night, And lead the wand'ring, wearied eye, To lose it in eternity— A tranquil holiness, whose birth ' Disdains the slightest kin of earth— c t 30 THE OCEAN HARP. Like that sweet dream of rest which plays Around the drooping christian's gaze, When Death hath cast his hideousness And wears the countenance of peace— That bounds the close of life's dull even, And fills the interval to Heaven. Oh gross of soul!—whose sensual taste, 'Midst such illimitable waste Beholds no banquet—in whose breast So feebly was the God imprest, That impulses, divinely fair, Wither in vile abortions there! Be his that avarice of strife Which bends him to the yoke of life; The starry noon, the boundless sea Are rapture, wealth, and life, to me; My spirit wakes when others sleep, Rife are my joys when others weep. Lit by ethereal lamps I rise, Fancy my wing, my path the skies; Sail with the Pleiades round yon arch, Mix in the planetary march, And deem such maniac moment's reign Outweighs an age of grovelling pain. Chill as the dame of Hesiod's song, Amidst her bright subservient throng THE OCEAN HARP. The virgin huntress speeds her way, And casts abroad a chasten'd day; Earthward no more she stoops to toy On Latmos with the sluggard boy; No more her kind and kindling beam Can dissipate Endymion's dream; Ages unnumber'd rounds have roll'd, Desire hath droop'd, and Love grown cold— Through the cerulean concave now, As frigid, and as white as snow, She holds her course; and coy and pale, As in Gargaphia's ancient vale, When, to her goddess nymphs, alone, She scarce unbound her silver zone. How sweet to mark her rapid flight Beyond the tardy step of night, To see the darkling fiend, in vain, Toiling behind her splendid train, Till distanc'd far, his gloomy surge Hangs round the black horizon's verge, And, as the morning rays appear, Seeks a more kindred hemisphere. Then bursts imagination's flame- Desire of genius, thirst of fame Wake in the breast, to powerful play And melt the dregs of sense away: 32 TnE OCEAN HARP. Then soars the spirit, wildly borne Above the shine of Cynthia's horn, And steers its high ethereal flight Through wastes and labyrinths of light:— Or, where fairies deftly trip it, O'er the valley's verdant breast, While, beneath night's sable tippet, Nature hides her emerald crest, Borrowing from the " fire-fly's lamp" Light to guide their mirthful tramp; O'er the slumbering petals tripping, Draughts of dew from daisies sipping, Draining from the poppy-flower All its drops of opiate power, Brain of nymph and swain to steep In the crystal charm of sleep;— Or in light moscheto's guise, Flitting where the lover lies, And with sharp and sudden sting. All his dreams discomfiting; Snatching him from Fancy's bowers, Fair with fruits, and fresh with flowers, Where through golden channels stray Streams, from jasper founts that play; On whose margin sapphires grow, Liquid pearls, like rills of snow, THE OCEAN HARP. 33 Pouring stores of costly dew Round their stems of radiant blue— Breaking, with envenom'd lance, All the tinsel web of trance; All the fairy charms that threw Error round the dreamer's view— Snatching him from rapture's reign Back to peevishness and pain:— Then, when giddy elves are roaming; Then, when midnight skies are glooming: Caught from rhapsodies of care, Buoyant on the turbid air, Through the wakeful spirit's sphere, Day-break opens, bright and clear; Intellectual suns arise, Darkness, dimness, dullness, flies; Genius, Learning, Science, Taste, (All the lights of life's long waste) Fly, at Inspiration's call, To her trophy-trelliss'd hall; From the head th' ideas start; Rush the passions from the heart; Nature's self prepares the board. Richly, amph/, fitly, stor'd— 'Tis the noon of mind's control! "Tis the carnival of soul! 34 THE OCEAN H \RV So calm, so lovely was the night, The ocean seem'd a realm of light, Back in such silver groupes it gave, The stars that kiss'd its mirror wave: No trilling tide—no swell was seen To break its calm, continuous green, But, mild as new-born infancy, The midnight wizard trod the sea. On the lone poop—the lyre unstrung Which loosely o'er his shoulder hung— Orlando paus'd, to watch afar A light—'twas redder than a star— On ocean's verge it seem'd to lie Just where the surface meets the sky; A beacon-blaze!—its lustres fell, In eloquence of light to tell, The Briton's " welcome" and " farewell." Glancing from England's latest strand, It told the limit of the land; And there the wanderer's hope and heart Felt all the ties of habit part, The smile of kindred-friends decay, And half life's vision melt away, A tear of weakness—'twas the last, A tribute to enjoyments past— THE OCEAN HARP. A trophy-gem, from passion's broil Stern Memory's solitary spoil— Just dimm'd the ardor of his eye, Just 'woke the sympathetic sigh; A moment swell'd—but wither'd soon, Like spring-drop in the beam of noon— A flash of soul—a thought of flame— A glory, from the meteor fame, Play'd round his heart, and soaring higher, Sublim'd it to a glance of fire. But hist! what glowing numbers sweep The startled empire of the deep? No shadowing cloud, no murmuring breeze Breaks o'er the skies, or curls the seas; Eurus yet fans some Parthian hill, And all but melody is still. Speechless no more, nor idly slung, A reckless renegade from song, Responsive to its master's hand, Yon lyre, around its native land, In soft alternate fall and swell, Breathes out the lingering, long "farewell!" Distant, indeed, the numbers pour Their trembling cadence t'wards the shore— 36 THE OCEAN HARP. Distant, in music's melting sigh, Speak forth the wandering bard's « good bye! Their loudest chords shall fail to reach The rocky height, or wave-wash'd beach; But tribute sweet is parting tear That falls on Friendship's funeral bier, And if its dew-drop sink unseen, It makes the cypress evergreen: And there are numbers which impart More rapture to the minstrel's heart Than all Renown's imposing glare— The pomp of Fame—can generate there; Not when the lay is sprent with fire, But when the heart speaks through the lyre; And, though unheard the strain may roll, It vibrates through the poet's soul; And be it grief, or be it pleasure, Life has no charm to match its treasure. But hark! attracted by the sound, The sportive breezes gather round, From orient caves young zephyrs ply Their hurried flight athwart the sky, Sing through the shrouds, and lightly steep Their pinions in the startled deep. THE OCEAN HARP. 37 No more the ruddy beacon throws Its glance o'er ocean's wide repose, Swiftly its lingering light recedes, From the last cape the vessel speeds, And thus Orlando pours the lay, As the bark cuts the rising spray. CANTO 1 Last of my native land, whose distant steep Shines through the night, and triumphs o'er the deep- Last of the isle I lov'd, till apes of God Bestrode the soil, and wither'd where they trod— Like the fiend-foot, whose scathe, where'er it trac'd, Burnt up the glade, and stamp'd eternal waste— Now, as yon lessening light dissolves from view, Receive my plaint, my pity, and adieu! Ye mountain sides, array'd in gorgeous green, Where once the form of Liberty was seen— And where, in some lone dell's neglected shade, In later times the truant-goddess stray'd, Nursing her faded hopes, till Charlotte's reign Should give them grace and energy again— 'Till as the dirge of death in mournful sound, Oppress'd the breeze and shook the dingles round, Scar'd at the knell, her tatter'd robe she caught And wildly shrieking, vanish'd from the spot— 40 THE OCEAN HARP. Ye darkling woods, and animated plains Where Nature triumphs o'er a realm in chains— Ye golden corn-fields, whence the noontide ray Borrows a splendor to enhance the day, Apd, in the broad meridian of his might, Takes back in mellowness his loans of light— Why still, like cluster'd pleasures, loth to part, Hangs your rich imagery round my heart? Why, as the clasping tendrils thence I tear, Start forth new shoots to curl and conquer there? A day once dawn'd—a morn without a cloud— When of his English breed the boor was proud— A day once dawn'd—when Slavery's baleful name Stood lowest in the lexicon of shame; And sordid tyrants, bearded by the brave, What they refus'd to right, to vigour gave— Night came—the glory of the land pass'd by, And mangled Freedom sought a kinder sky! Wo wait the spot—whatever climes dispense The genial gifts of Heaven's munificence— Wo wait the spot, where slaves degenerate cower, And stab their manhood at the shrine of power; Where lawless craft and impious pride, combin'd, With barbarous fury, manacle the mind, IMF. OCEAN HARP. 41 And every spark of intellectual day, Touch'd by the mace of bondage, dies away. Dlush, dwindled race, unworthy to be free, Who bend the neck, and bow the suppliant knee; Whose grovelling souls no lofty purpose own, Content to swell the pageant of a throne, To wear the chain, despotic arts impose, And owe what Nature gave to Nature's foes. Whatever gloss your varnish'd fetters wear; High though you prize the privilege to bear, Though to your hands the teeming harvest waves, Your fields are deserts, and yourselves are slaves! E'en now, methinks, from many a bursting tomb, In grim array, the sires of Britain come, Each throbbing breast, and every gleaming eye, Strain'd with revenge, and fir'd for liberty. Bright blaze their falchions, and, that kings may read, Writ on each temper'd blade,' shines " Runnymede!" The palsied throne no more its slaves commands— Corruption's hydras—Flattery's fawning bands— Ambition's madmen—Avarice, with his train— Desert their idol, and forsake his fane. In vain the bloated Bacchus looks for aid— The bold betrayer, now, in turn betray'd, d 2 42 THE OCEAN HARP. Amid the wrecks of pomp remains alone A speechless statue on a faithless throne. See from his grasp the 'rod of empire falls, His smile attracts not, nor his frown appalls— As some stripp'd idol, round whose trunk no more India's dark children revel and adore; Whose batter'd phiz, distort from many a shock, Down from a godhead dwindled to a block— Spurn'd by its priests, a patient martyr lies, Till on a fire-brand's wing it mounts the skies— So, every badge of greatness banish'd far, The purple rent, and quench'd the dazzling star. Prone on the earth, the helpless Woden lies, And, midst a cheer of curses, sternly dies. The spell is riven; the talisman that crost And marr'd a nation's mightiness, is lost; Back from her exile Freedom wings her flight, Her glance replete, her pinions tipp'd with light; Peace and Content her right and left adorn, And groaning Plenty drags her bursting horn: From far and near enraptur'd legions come, And shouts of millions hail the wanderers home. Wide o'er the realm the spreading furor flies, Darkness grows dim, and morning visions rise: New energies reward the glorious toil, Man walks abroad, the monarch of the soil; THE OCEAN HARP. 43 For its own harvest labour tills the plains, Surpassing suns enrich, and softer rains, And Nature pours her blessings full and free, To grace and swell a nation's jubilee. Delusive power! whose fairy glance can throw A brightening sun-tint o'er a night of wo; Dress forth gay fiction in the garb of sooth, And stanch with wizard webs the wounds of truth— Why, swift as vapours shun the eye of noon— Why melts thy realm of ecstacy so soon? When from thy crayon starts a scene so rife, So rich in all the blandishments of life, Has Wit no scheme, nor Art no power, to bind The glossy vision to the ravish'd mind? Still must each fabric Fancy's hands have made Like domes of fairy architecture, fade, And, as the bubble on the billow's crest— A dream of nature—vanish when carest? Alas! ev'n now, the shade of Freedom's grace Breaks from my sight, and mocks my vain embrace; .Oppression still maintains his despot throne And rules—'midst bending slaves—the Mighty One! Insulted Virtue, forc'd from power to fly, In viewless solitudes retires to sigh; 44 THE OCEAN HARP. Corruption pours abroad her hungry band, And sordid Wealth partitions out the land. See from his hamlet'a lacerated walls, Staggering with years, yon hoary peasant crawls; Ten summers, eight times told, that form has won The palm of triumph from the sluggard sun; And e'er the vanquish'd night had made retreat, Down those hill-sides commenc'd his morning beat; And there ten winter-tides, as often told, His hands have stiffen'd in the withering cold; And tears, which now and then would anguish speak. Have harden'd into ice upon his cheek. His thrifty dame, too, train'd to all but pride, And vice, which ever panders at its side, Hath toil'd till life's dull winter brought its train Of mingled ills—of apathy and pain: Why has not Heaven with riches crown'd their thrift? Heaven gave—but tyrant man despoil'd the gift:— Halt* of his produce claim'd the haughty state To wage foul wars, and feed the needy great; One tenth of all, the full-fed rector stole, To pay with care of flesh, the care of soul; The frittcr'd wreck, with frugal care applied, But ill suffic'd for labour to divide, THE OCEAN HARP. And give the humble pair, to life's near close, The scanty means of being and repose. True, there was one, who, in her evening round— A seraph now—the peasant's cot had found: They shar'd her bounty—for she knew their cares— And gave in payment usury of prayers: They lov'd to list her angel footsteps near; Her voice was more than music to their ear; And when she talk'd of Heaven, and bade them try To learn that first of lessons—how to die, From her dear lips so sweet the precepts fell, That every accent prov'd she knew it well. Ah, little ween'd the pair to whom she gave The clue of faith and hope to pass the grave, How soon the hour of Britain's grief should come, When Heaven would call its high adopted home! Yon care-worn plodder, in whose wrinkled brow, And eyes with languid energy that glow, The traces of ambition, ill-subdued, Gleam through expression's wintry solitude; Who seems, the vigour of existence past, Still fain to toil and struggle to the last; And through the paucity of years untried, To earn the chissel'd epitaph—he died!— 40 THE OCEAN HARP. Why has he liv'd? Like countless fellow-fools, To feed the pamper'd prodigal who rules; And, gorg'd by greedy power his last supply, Like other fools, to curse himself and die! For him no golden horn disclos'd its store, Still doom'd to toil, and grovel with the poor. And, with an age's burden on his head, Compell'd to earn or lack his daily bread. There was a time—an interval of peace— When Heaven had bless'd him with a small increase; A few spare hundreds, resolutely sav'd From many a storm industrious effort brav'd His hand with prudent avarice had stor'd, And toil paid daily tribute to his hoard. But soon rapacious schemes demanded food, And each must suffer for the general good; Redoubled taxes, a consuming weight, Fed, like a vampire, on the wasting state; The hope of industry, the gain of years, The fruit of pain, economy and tears, The orphan's substance, and the widow's trust Were melted down to Pow'r's insatiate lust. As fairy dreams, which cheat the gloomy night, Silvering the wings of darkness with delight. THE OCEAN HARP. 47 The wearied soul with cobweb-toils ensnare, And change to flowers the hellebore of care, Till reckless morn leads on the sober day And melts the visionary scene away; So Hope dissolv'd, with all her splendid train, And all again was penury and pain. From plains, impoverish'd by the scathe of pride. Wrongs unredress'd, or cravings unsupplied— From cruel imposts' desolating weight, And the stern tither's unrelenting threat, Prepar'd for flight, but tardy still to fly Those long familiar hopes which lure and lie— What mournful groups, with downcast looks descend The distant slopes, and o'er the beach extend! Yon gray-hair'd husbandman no more shall till His native fields, nor from the sun-burnt hill, As day grows dim, in wonted accent call The straggling herds, and drive them to the stall: To distant wilds, whose sterile borders sweep The long loud empire of the trackless deep— To fallows, old as nature, where, till now, The iron glebe ne'er yielded to the plough, He points his course, though yet averse to go, To change ev'n sure for speculative wo: 48 THE OCEAN HARP. Close by his side, his trembling wife, whose tears Bespeak her sorrows, and proclaim her fears, Hugs her poor babe, whose playful smiles impart A new and keener anguish to her heart---- " Hush thee, my child!"—her faltering lips would cry- " Little thou know'st the cares from which we fly; " And, perhaps, more fierce, the perils and the pain " Which wait to rack us on that dismal main. " And should thy mother die—in distant land, " Who then will feed thee with a mother's hand? " Whose eye will mark thy little wants, and shine " With grief or joy, as Nature kindles thine?"— An aged sire, whose locks of silvery gray, Around his wrinkled forehead scantly stray, Not for himself defies the dang'rous wave, Humble the boon his looks of languor crave— An hour of light to cheer that filming eye, A little space to turn himself and die— He asks no more—save that his children round Catch his last sigh, and bear him to the ground— For this alone, in drivelling accents fell From lips which time had bleach'd, the faint " farewell," ' His native cot still as he linger'd near, And saw a stranger-footstep enter there. Remoter still, a long and lengthening host, With deepening shadows mantle all the coast. THE OCEAN HARP. 49 Blent in one group, the poorest with the proud, A motley, mute, and melancholy crowd— Delusive visions Hope no more bestows— Their birthright toil, and ruin their repose; From scenes of youth, the bosom's cherish'd home, And habit's social joys, compell'd to roam, Some tears, at parting, down the cheeks that steal In pride's despite, the bursting heart reveal, And show, the palaces of feeling cleft, One chamber, drear and desolate, is left, On which, in fadeless characters remain Those sybil syllables----" the cell of Pain!" Still vaunting Britain proudly lifts her crest, And boasts the exclusive privilege to be blest. With her's, what code of laws can hold compare? Who stands, like her, invincible in war? In gaudy pomp, and gilded luxury, What nation of the earth with her can vier" Once matchless laws and valour were her own— A happy people, and a pious throne! But now, no more an Alfred's hands sustain The well-pois'd balances of guilt and pain; With vigorous checks restrain the ambitious few, ind safety's'worn-out parapets renew. 50 THE OCEAN HARP.. What far-fam'd rights the historic muse conveys From the dark chaos of unletter'd days— Scatter'd by tyranny's destructive storms, Like shadows fade, or live in hollow forms. As echo oft survives some wasted tone, Which ravish'd Nature fondles as her own, And the ear clings to when the voice is gone— They were—like sunshine in an April noon,— As rich in hope, and in decay as soon— A nation revell'd in the golden beam, And half mistook for truth the specious dream; But foul Corruption, earliest boon of hell, With demon-fury, rent the dazzling spell,— Laid waste the loveliness of Freedom's reign And led back man to wretchedness again. Her soil, exuberant with untimely graves, Chang'd from the avenger to the nurse of slaves: A foul increasing pestilence, she soars, Death in her glance, and madness on her shores; Green with one cancerous, universal wound, And scattering poisonous epidemy round; Where lordly despots forge the biting chain, Her fleets, confederate,tlarken all the main. To bear to latent climes Oppression's ban. And crush the last best energies of man. THE OCEAN HARP. 51 Von recreant Gaul, the mammoth of his line, Ordain'd, by chance, legitimate, divine— Mean pander to the harlotry of power— The God—the fool—the glutton of the hour— Willi all of bigot, all of coward curst; The best of friars, but of kings the worst; Who in such hands the regal sceptre plac'd, In purple cloth'd him, and with empire grac'd? Who gave him right the rod of power to sway, And bent a realm to reverence and obey? Thine was the deed—despotic Britain!—thine— To crush an empire's hopes by " right divine;" In Freedom's breast to plant the assassin blow, And hang with rapture o'er each dying throe! Thine was the deed!—recorded will it stand— A beacon infamy—like that deep brand, Which on the brow of Cain in light'ning fell, And marr'd his visage with the stamp of hell— A blaze of shame, unquenchable with tears By penance dimm'd not, nor decay'd by years! Thou Cain amongst the nations!—branded—scarr'd, For rifled rights, and prospects thou hast marr'd— The curse is ou thee—a perpetual blight Breathes in each breeze of thine, and girds each height; Disaster's touch cleaves withering- to thy name, And all thy wreaths of glory change to shame! THE OCEAN HARP. The curse is on thee—all that golden spell To which, beneath thy bidding, nations fell, Fleets from thy grasp—the vision drops, and lo! Remorse and ruin desolate thy brow. In rashly daring, thou hast dar'd too much; There is a blasting mildew in thy touch, A black endemic, withering where it lights, On the wide wilderness of human rights. Thy noon thou hast surpass'd! Thy glory fades', Like fearful flowers, from Hecate's gloomy shades Arm'd for thy fall—a world—a world prepares A dread array of sanguinary wars; Thy domes of wealth, by spoiler-hands defac'd, Shall slowly moulder o'er the widening waste, And Lust's lewd revels, and the drunkard's roar Through their bleak halls reverberate no more. The desert sites where cities once had stood, Expanding vast in matchless solitude, Shall teach the lesson of thy vigours shorn, To regions yet unknown, and ears unborn; Thy scatter'd hamlets down the vales shall nod, Or stretch in smoking fragments o'er the sod; The ewe no more shall heed the shepherd's call, The ox possess no crib, the steed no stall, Nor music's notes in softening strains distil, O' r the broad lake, or round the echoing hill; THE Q(ii;AN HARP. 03 Through the dark woods shall awful stillness sleep, Nor shadow break the sunshine on the steep— Sterility and Silence, hand in hand, Like sister-weirds, shall subjugate the land. E'en now, unveil'd to Fancy's eye, appears The long, dark train of unbegotten years:— From the broad chaos of dissolving night, Prophetic visions agitate my sight. I see the wrecks of luxury and pride Float down the stream of Time's unebbing tide: My faltering step methinks some hermit leads Where phoenix-flowers still grace the verdant meads— Like wreaths of triumph, twin'd round Nature's brow. When Art's frail laurels to destruction bow— His tongue essays to speak—what years have past, Since with its kind it held communion last! Though, now and then, when Grief assum'd a tone, And playful Echo answer'd to the groan, The sound so pleas'd that, more in sport than pain, lie tempted oft the mimicry again— " Mark that rude heap,"—the sage historian cries— " There the proud palace of a Brunswick lies! " The costly tapestry, the velvet floors, " The gilded cornices, the crimson doors— E 2 54 THE OCEAN HARP. " And all of pomp which sordid Wealth could buy, " Or Art's ingenious providence supply, " In scatter'd piles their glittering glories blend, " And a last grace to desolation lend. " Yon massive fringe, which, through its marly crust, " Sheds a faint glare, and trembles into dust, " Struck from its mighty destiny, no more " Adorns the canopy it grac'd of yore; " The lizard's palace now its rays enfold " In rich refulgent labyrinths of gold; " Or bid their sickly splendors faintly fall, " To grace the earth-worm's solitary hall. " Slow round the mass the lonely owlet plies " Its leaden course through dim recumbent skies; " Or on some tottering fragment's tapering height " Rocks with the breeze, and serenades the night. " Here sinks to earth the noble's gorgeous seat— " There the long vestige of some costly street; " Beyond philosopher, or saint, or seer, " With silent eloquence subdues the ear, " And breathes a speechless epitaph around, " Far as its ruin trails along the ground. " Where yonder swamp still marks the ample bed1, " Majestic Thames his wealthy waters led; " No more his tides commercial navies crest, •' Nor greedy freights his winding shores invest. THE OCEAN HARP. " Memory, thou chronicle of moments past, " Say on what eve that current ebb'd its last? " The timid day shot forth a baleful light, " No planet lent its lustres to the night; " Hills to their bases shook, and rifted rocks " Bent to the fury of a thousand shocks; " Array'd against herself strange Nature seem'd, " And every hour with sterner terrors teem'd; " The river swell'd—a black impetuous tide, " The lifeless streets with mortal blackness dy'd; " Rush'd through the flowery avenues of taste, " Andchang'dthe realm of beauty to a waste. " Then as the wide destruction swept away " The proud, the poor, the gray-beard and the gay, 1,1 Some frantic husband's, or some mother's shriek, " Above the tempest's roar, would wildly break, ,c As the lov'd infant or imploring wife •' Fell from the weak, relaxing hold of life, " And in one brief, yet intermitted prayer " Clos'd the revolting period of despair. " Still sped the ruin—where the earthquake stay'd " The sword a sanguinary harvest made; " Life-dreams, which had surviv'd the first despair, " At Slaughter's chilling cry dissolv'dinair: " Horror held carnival, while vengeful man ' Finish'd the work by juster heaven began. - 56 THE OCEAN HARP. " Nations o'erthrown, the oppression of the opprest, " Like mangled members round a vulture's nest, " The reeking wrecks of Britain's fury stood, " Of Heav'n to claim the punishment for blood! " The frozen north pour'd forth her legions then, " From icy fortress, and the snow-roof'd glen, " Urg'd by pale Envy's goad, Ambition's lust, " To lay those island glories in the dust. " Athirst for war, round Russia's varying coasts " Opposing climes pour'd forth unnumber'd hosts; " From cold Siberia's unproductive heath, " The keen Tungusian snuff'd the smell of death; " The sturdy Kalmuc brav'd the dangerous deep; " Carpathia's legions, from their native steep, " Slavonians, Fins, from Bothnia's stubborn shore, " And Caspian tribes that milder realms explore, " Like moving forests, swept each swarthy plain, " And shed precocious midnight o'er the main, " Drunk with excess of suffering, as the swell " Of madden'd menace on his mountains fell, " The patriot Pole, impatient to demand " An hour of vengeance for his fritter'd land, " Unbar'd his hungry falchion for the blow " And fed his soul on antepasts of wo. " Rous'd b}7 the blast of universal war, " The gathering Danes came darkening from afar, THE OCEAN HAR1 . 57 • Their slaughter'd sires, and scatter'd wrecks that lay " In floating fragments, through their bounded bay, " C'all'd for revenge, and pointed out the way. " Gaul's haughty sons, fir'd with ignobler flame, " To strike a rival from the roll of fame, " And at one blow, the sturdiest and the last, " Win glorious recompense for failures past, " Shadow'd her shores, unloos'd the fluttering sail, " Once more oppos'd the billow and the gale, " To dye with desperate tints of native blood " Those chalky cliffs, and free the fetter'd flood. " The vaunting Spaniard, who beneath the stole " Of fiery honour, veils the coward soul,— " Of pride and bigotry the eldest born, " Heir of the world's inevitable scorn— " Threw off his native apathy, and gave " His sword a charter to supply the grave, " The trembling Lusitanian, fore'd to feel " Valour's reflected heat, unsheath'd his steel, " Yet shrank, half scar'd, upon its blade to trace " The pale reflection of his ghastly face. " From the dark wood, and everlasting plain, " Where mighty Danube apes the mightier main, " O'er beetling rocks whose swarthy forms diffuse " That witching gloom which Melancholy woos, 58 THE OCEAN HARP. " Hurls down his giant streams to vales that lie " A day's long course remoter from the sky; •' While from the trembling deep the cliffs beneath " Snatch the snow-surf, and mould to many a wreath, " Each sceptred German felt the wide control, " His quota rais'd to swell the wond'rous whole, " Laid petty feuds and jealousies at rest, " And join'd the legions of the long opprest. " As some fierce tyger, covetous of blood, "Year after year, usurps his native wood, " By day controls the tangling thicket's maze " Or drinks from flowery dells the temper'd blaze, " And, as propitious twilight dims the glen, " Snuffs the near breath, and hunts the track of men, " Hangs round the reckless youth, for whom no more " Shall cheerful morn its golden glories pour, " Nor father's smile expand, nor, prompt to bless, " Play round his heart the mother's warm caress:— " Till rous'd at length, the ravag'd hamlet's train— " Mildness and might—the stripling and the swain— " With strange unwonted shouts provoke the wood, " For conflict arm'd, and resolute for blood; " Quailing with fear, the startled monster hides « Deep in the mazy thicket's thorny sides: THE OCEAN HARP. 59 " In vain he shrinks, the kindling brands inspire " The treacherous copse, and light his funeral pyre, " Or striving still for life, the ranc'rous dart '♦ Reeks through the fractur'd fibres of the heart, " Closes the chase so valiantly begun, " And leaves the carcass bleaching in the sun. " Thus, like the savage, yet profounder far, " A bold empiric in the trade of war, " That tiger-isle, far as her glance could scan, " With misery marr'd the heritage of man; " Chains in her hands, and fury on her brow, " Pride in her soul—that pride how humbled now! " From shore to shore her scathing curse she threw; " The thirst of blood with each new banquet grew: " Justice cast down her scales; the seraph forms " Of Peace and Hope, before successive storms, " Wither'd, like roses in untimely frost, " Or blooming fruits by sudden mildew crost. ■' Then, from the range of Hyperborean isles, " To Crete's fair verge, where gentler Nature smiles, " Pour'd the long hosts, that blacken'd all the sea, " Fir'd with revenge, and panting to be free. " Now o'er the sod, a ling'ring wreck she lies, " Shook by each breath that travels through the skies, 60 THE OCEAN HARP. " Sport of the storms that rave, the showers that fall •' Till Time's advancing darkness shadow all!" Land of my sires!—and where life's vision first On these imperfect orbs, transporting, burst! Land of my youth, whose verdant vales have seen My footsteps totter o'er your glades of green— In whose rich bowers all shades of bliss I knew While round my head, the years unheeded flew— Career'd the checker'd round of joy and strife And felt the sunshine and the cloud of life— Whose scenes still beam, refracted o'er my brain, Like lights which cheer, but cannot warm again! As the carv'd pillar, on some lonely waste, fl Hist'ry's proud column, and the tower of taste, Speaks forth, in marble eloquence, the feat Which slaughter'd hosts, and made the murd'rer great, And, still unchang'd, by every change of time, Lifts to the clouds its pinnacle sublime, Gilt by the sun, or beaten by the blast, The hoary orator of ages past— On mem'ry's granite, so the witching train Of earlier years is shadow'd forth again: When whirlwinds rave, or sunbeams temper strife, As ebb and flow the blandishments of life— Still to its images of raptures past, The gloating brain hangs clinging to the last; THE OCEAN HARP. 61 Culls from the wither'd paradise of youth, The buds and flowers which blossom'd once in truth, Renews their bloom, and, with its magic breath, Creates an Eden on the slope of death:— Spite of my rankling bitterness of will- Land of mine infancy—I love thee still! I love thee for the living lights that shine, In graceful galaxy, round Learning's shrine! I love thee for the stars of every age, Which glance in dazzling gleams along thy page— As mineral atoms 'midst encrusting earth Betray the teeming mine that gives them birth; Or glittering sands, by mountain-currents roll'd, From sordid Afric's wilderness of gold, Unfold their source—so names immortal shine; Rich fragments quarried in a rock divine- In genius' sphere resplendent suns they glow, Dipensing mental light to all below: Art—science—vegetates beneath their ray, And dark, cold ignorance brightens into day; Wild error's maze admits their dazzling clew, And spreads its broken sophistries to view; From east to west the brightening day-break flies, All climes invades, and hails remotest skies; Swift fades the latest trace of barbarous night, And lingering prejudice dissolves in light. F 62 THE OCEAN HARP. Here Milton sung—what though the lyre be stiffij Yet float wild echoes round its native hill; « The tottering peasant of yon lonely dell, Where 'erst the strain of heaven was heard to swell, Feels a rude pride, 'midst penury and care, To tell the wandering world—" the bard liv'd them! In matchless mastery, here a Shakspeare stood, Moulding his images from field and flood, All things in all their varied shapes combin'd Recast—re-modell'd—from his mint of mind, Stamp'd by eternal genius, rush'd abroad, A daring forgery on the draught of God! Here tuneful Pope restrung the Grecian lyre, Track'd Homer's flight, andconquer'd with his Lov'd of the Muse, here breath'd the lay which The glutted ear with unremitted sweets; And gave such beauty to Belinda's grief, That ravish'd,Taste scarce wish'd the nymph relief. Here Dryden's nervous numbers roll'd along, Down the fierce current of immortal song, From Time's cold fingers pluck'd the withering powen And bound the tyrant in the Muse's bower. Here a long train of minor poets bless'd A listening world!—Here in the glorious crest ' Of Britain's fame, a constellation bright, Their starry beams shall beautify her night; ' the ocean harp. 63 And if they lack the power to break her woes Shall light her name to dignified repose. And thou, illustrious Newton! who hast taught Sublimer sallies to the wing of thought, And shown to startling man's unclosing eyes A maze of systems winding through the skies;— Whose soaring soul explor'd the Maker's plan, And spread its grandeur to the gaze of man— Her Palinurus thou, bold science steers Her vent'rous pinnace 'midst revolving spheres; With fearless skill directs her golden way rhrough glittering creeks and continents of day: tStems tides of light, in ebb and flow that run, .To spread the radiant empire of the sun;— Worlds at thy call, their vast arcana yield, And God, in all his splendor, shines reveal'd!— And all ye lights that lengthen out the train, Whose fame shall still—till earth dissolve—remain;— Whether ye strung the lyre, or sought to explore The darkling labyrinths of musty lore— Whether in metaphysic maze involv'd, 'Mid subtle points, positions unresolv'd, And multiplying doubts, ye vainly strove, Or spent the lamp in Academic grove! — 64 THE OCEAN HARP. Oh, deathless band!—have ye no power to save The land which gave you greatness and a grave? It may not be—her rock of strength is riven; Swift through the purlieus of indignant heaven The herald peal in awful murmurs rolls, And distant fires electrify the poles! And who shall weep thy fall, save he who drew Life from thy soil, and in thy shelter grew? A thousand states—the victims of thy lust, As Ruin bows thy tyranny to dust, Shall hold their revels o'er each wasted spot, Thy crimes remember'd—but thy worth forgot! Thy sins, oh Britain! have provok'd the blow!— Justice implor'd till Heaven became thy foe! Thou Nero-nation, 'ere thy cup ran o'er— Ere the stern Vengeance visited thy shore— Hadst thou obey'd weak Virtue's last command, And clear'd the immoral Upas from thy land;— Weeded thy court of gluttony and lust, And cloth'd thine head with penitential dust!— Oh, hadst thou rent Ambition's reeking fane, And fix'd the limit to Oppression's reign, Vice from her throne with pious rage subdu'd And pierc'd at once the lewdness and the lewd, THE OCEAN HARP. 65 Pleas'd with the offering, righteous Hcav'n had then Recall'd the shaft, and sheath'd the sword again; Then had thy star a glorious orbit trac'd Through dark futurity's unopen'd waste— Then in magnificence of might array'd, Nations unborn had shelter'd in thy shade; The wrongs of after times, far as the view Can perforate the line of ages through, To thee in joyful confidence had come, Thy sure adopted they, and thou their home. Tyrants had trembled at thy withering frown, And at thy bidding sceptres melted down, And all thy cliffs that beetle o'er the flood, ( The eternal guardians of thy freedom stood. Thus had it been!—but ah! the sacrifice Remains unoffer'd, and thy greatness dies! On! on! infatuate realm! What boots the cost? A pause of virtue is a moment lost! - Wage wars unjust—pour forth the mortal flood— Urge your fierce chargers fetlock deepen blood- Man all your squadrons—bid your pulpits dare Heaven's long endurance with unhallowed prayer— * Through all your violated aisles prolong The impious concords of the venal song!— f2 -d6 THE OCEAN HARP. On, in your comet-course—your race of fire!— Before your scathing glance let Hope expire! The swifter flies the arrow to its aim— The speedier plies the flash its wing of flame— The sooner falls the victim on the plain— The fated tree is sooner cleft in twain! end of canto 1. THE ^@mnM m^miPc CANTO II. TO HIS EXCELLENCY DE WITT CLINTON, GOVERNOR OF THE STATE OF NEW YORK. Sir, The great architect* of the cathedral of St. Paul, in London, lies buried in the edifice which he raised, and the concise inscription on the stone, translated, runs thus—" If you seek his monument look around!" Whenever it may please Providence to terminate your career of splendid usefulness, the grateful inhabit- ants of the state of IN'ew York, referring to the suc- cessful encouragement given by you to agriculture, commerce, and the long train of the arts and sciences, may inscribe the same eloquent eulogium on your tomb; and the most distant ages of posterity will bear testimony to its justice. To your excellency, therefore, as the statesman of America, whose character exhibits the finest combina- tion of enlightened policy, prompt determination, and * Sir Christopher Wren. 70 DEDICATION. extended foresight, I dedicate the following canto: and I cannot withhold the expression of my hope that," at no distant period, these high qualifications will dif- fuse a more enlarged latitude of public prosperity from the chair of the United States. I have the honour to be, Sir, Your excellency's most obedient And humble servant, Philada. January, 1819. J. A. _ INTRODUCTION TO CANTO II. Memory, thou painter of the past, Where'er thy magic tints are cast, Fresh from the canvass of the brain Life's fleeted pleasures start again, And youthful sports and scenery too, Grow proximate and charm anew!— The village lea, where milkmaids hied, At mellow even's tranquil tide, While startling o'er the neighb'ring fief, Young Zephyr kiss'd the bashful leaf, Which gently murmur'd as it strove To shun the faithless breath of Love;— The ewes whose drawling bleatings chide The sportive lambkins at their side;— The herd, whose long and hollow low, Sounds from the upland's distant brow;— The ploughman's rustic notes, that seem To regulate his wearied team, 72 the ocean nARP. As from the new-turn'd glebe they crawl With measur'd footstep to the stall;— The cottage smoke, which curls between The wood's dark intervals of green;— The river winding through the vale, Stranger alike to surge and sail, Where once a group of Naiads stay'd Beneath an osier-island's shade, Won by the wild harmonious swell Which broke from Shakspeare's wizard shell- But when its mighty strain no more Was heard along the silent shore They left the spot, and Solitude Usurp'd their seats and rul'd the flood. Oh! it was sweet—when sports could please- To trifle 'mid such scenes as these! On Avon's still and silver stream To watch the morning's early beam; And when, my erring soul to claim, Something like inspiration came, And smit me through the kindling eye Of holy, heaven-born Poesy, Just like some new fledg'd bird, whose throat Swells with its first, imperfect note, THE OCEAN HARP. 73 To try my little skill, and nurse My childish glimmerings into verse. Oh maids of Avon, when the spell Of Evening on the landscape fell, And Nature's gay parterre was dight In neutral tints of passive light, How sweet to mark the brightness still That loiter'd o'er the distant hill; And as the clouds of night array'd The vision in a deeper shade, To catch the motley forms which grew— Still changing—yet for ever new— As though Earth's monsters, rife and rare, Were mimick'd in the teeming air. Little in infancy I trow'd Of manhood's long and thorny road, Of treacherous hopes and faithful fears, The costly legacy of y^ars— I reck'd not, that as wandering Age Went onward through its heritage, The cloud above, the brier beneath, Should change its Eden to a heath. As Life's gay vista open'd then Resplendent on my narrow ken, a 74 THE OCEAN HARP. Rich in a thousand golden dyes I saw the distant scenery rise, And murmur'd that I could not climb His car, and urge the wheels of time. As mountains which remotely lie, Wear the rich azure of the sky. So, in the tints of fancy sheen, The future seem'd an evergreen, And as the bright Cerulean fades To shapeless rocks, and sightless shades, So Manhood drops its gaudy glare, And reach'd, grows desolate with care. E'en now, as Life's dark wane I near, With little left to hope or fear, I give full charter to my brain, And live o'er infancy again: Again, though ocean rolls between, Bound, playful, o'er my native green, With little sport, and childish wile, The griefless, guiltless hours beguile, And count those first of time's swift tide The only hours not misapplied. When Summer bids the world rejoice. Again I hear my Mira's voice; THE OCEAN HARP. 75 The sweetest music of the grove, Yet sweetest as it spoke of love: The lark, the nightingale, to me Were skilless in their minstrelsey; When parleying with the gossip air The queen of melody was there. For her the flowery carpet wore A grace it scarce had known before; The painted bells in Nature's crest, So tenderly her footstep prest, That every stem but slightly bent To pay her homage as she went. I love to travel back life's space! False as they were, I love to trace The visions that ensnar'd my soul To Error's soft but sad control; And though that hour of bliss is gone— And though that form of heaven has flown— The noon-day trance—the midnight dream— That bid me still their being deem— The gleams of Memory, as they cast A glory round that much-lov'd past— So rich, so sweet, so rarefy shine Round this benighted heart of mine; I would not change their joys, for all Which stoics truth and reason call. 76 THE OCEAN HARP. Deceiv'd in youth, beguil'd in age— In wisdom weak, in folly sage— The golden cheat I still pursue, That shuns me as I fondly woo: Still may its loveliness of light Repel the dark approach of night, And throw a long and lengthening loom Above the isthmus of the tomb. Man is a lesson hard to learn, More complex every page we turn; The scanty grains of Reason lie So bound by Passion's sorcery; Of ill the thriving multitude So shades and stints the sickly good; The soul of glossiest garb, within, Betrays such ranknesses of sin; What skill could reach the task assign'd, To take the soundings of the mind, To search out every sand and shoal, Where Danger waits to wreck the soul? Sage, give thy noon-tide hours to toil; Be lavish of the midnight oil; Waste in research whole years away, And prose till every lock grows gray; THE OCEAN HARP. 77 Still when the stroke of death rebates The keenness of thy postulates, And what the Arachne of thy brain Hath spun, most foully breaks in twain, There wilt thou be, where lore began, Still at the threshold—man is man! Child of Caprice! ev'n Freedom's slave, Up from the cradle to the grave, Tosa'd on the rough and stormy tide Of his own passions—anger, pride, Hope, fear, love, hate—contending still In one wild anarchy of will; In form a god—empower'd to roam— The boundless universe his home— Creation's sovereign—unconfin'd The march and measure of his mind— Yet bending, with unnat'ral force, His genius in a downward course, Coping with shadows: —vain conceits, Unreal graces—superficial sweets Distract his cares! High emprize lost- All stretch of thought, of purpose, crost— The rudder of his reason riv'n— In one perpetual eddy, driv'n g2 78 THE OCEAN HARP. Like wrecks in whirlpools—till, all past, The hour of hope and effort—cast On time's last point—one struggle more, And the brief dream of Life is o'er! Have ye ne'er mark'd the traveller's eye Kindled to sudden ecstacy, As its triumphant glance survey'd The moor's long waste and forest's shade, While from the mountain's conquer'd brow He measur'd back his path below? And ken'dye ne'er the changeful cheek, Whose hectic eloquence would speak, More than his stamm'ring tongue could tell Of dangers on the dreary fell; Where, as the grizzly wolf hung round His track, or, coil'd along the ground, The freckled serpent's gorgeous wreath Shone frequent o'er the lengthening heath, From the sharp tooth and poison'd fang, He shrank with many a fancied pang, And mov'd there but a glade of grass Athwart the path he wish'd to pass, Or came a breath of air more strong, Than it was wont to flit along, THE OCEAN HARP. 79 Or shook the copse of pines hard by, Or sprang the whirring woodcock nigh, Fearchill'd the current of his blood, And fix'd the craven where he stood. So, as the past of life appears, Seen from the eminence of years— As round remembrance dance again Enjoyment's vampires—care and pain- Though pleas'd to turn me and survey The windings of the travell'd way; To hear the distant thunders swell, And die along the trembling dell; To mark the storm, but not to feel The burst of Nature's hydrocele, Still from the probe of Memory start The healing ulcers of the heart— Still, as the phantoms rise to view, To sight—almost to feeling—true, Oh deem not strange that forms should scare, A spirit bow'd and blanch'd with care! I cannot rove as once I rov'd— j I cannot love as once I lov'd— j As I was wont I cannot toy, And, with a touch, turn grief to joy; !iU THE OCEAN HARP But I can wear upon my brow A hollow wreath of smiles, ev'n now, Tread closely on the Witling's heels, And feign what lighter Folly feels; And I can echo Laughter's din, While the stern canker feeds within, And with a roar of rapture hide The groans of wounded Love and Pride. And I can see man feed on man, The creature fattening on his clan— Friend barter friend—Love prostitute Its richest grace to charm a brute— Woman, that loveliest, brightest gem, That sparkles in Life's diadem, Sully her worth with stains so fell As foil the swarthy tints of hell— Nor marvel aught that such can be— They are familiar things to me: . The book of years these eyes have read, Sorrow its weightiest stroke hath sped, And I have learnt, unsear'd, to bear The wasting hurricanes of care! Softly o'er Ocean's trembling brow The pale Moon sheds its kindling glow, THE OCEAN HARP. 81 And as the god of glory plies His blazing chariot up the skies, Cheer'd by his life-inspiring glance, The sparkling billows deftly dance. Melt, clouds of care! I feel, I feel O'er all my soul, Hope's morning steal! Dear to my breast the long-lost ray, That gilds its moody realm with day! Revive, ye embers of delight Relax the frozen anchorite, And down Time's vista kindly pour Your solace to life's furthest shore! CANTO II. O'er mountain crest not half so wildly bright Rush the first currents of the morning light— Not half so fiercely pours the ascending god His cataract lustres o'er the wakening sod— For Ocean's gaze his gorgeous garb he wears— His richest wreath for Ocean's brow prepares— ' Swift o'er the waves his golden axles sweep, And bathe in light the intoxicated deep; From east to west divergent splendors fly, Till one vast surf of glory dims the sky. SOn verdant height the loreless shepherd views The first beam mirror'd in the mountain dews, Or in the whiflling breeze that chills his ear, jg Feels early day-break's shivering pioneer. I From mossy couch the sky-lark's piercing tone f Shuns the base earth, and cleaves th' ethereal zone. 84 THE OCEAN HARP Soft and more sweet the spiral music floats, i Till smiling Skies absorb the distant notes. From frowning jungle and the sheltering brake The wolf walks prowling; and the slimy snake Uncoils his lingering length; the cock's shrill horn— J The gay muezzin of the mosque of morn— i Sounds Night's retreat; and from her beauty's pale \ The blushing rose reprieves the nightingale; Through all the realm of life Morn's fragrant breath Dispels the leaden prototype of death: • Earth teems afresh from morn's baptismal dew, Morn paints the sufferer's faded cheek anew, Repairs Hope's broken shield, breathes blights on Care, And steals a shade of darkness from Despair; Morn wakes the christian's zeal, the sage's fire, i The painter's pencil, and the poet's lyre; Ev'n now I feel its vigorous influence dart, Like gleams of summer sun-light, round my heart, And, as the new-born splendors brightly glance O'er the deep furrows of the vast expanse, All mistiness of mind dissolves away, And my soul riots in the tide of day. Bright be thy beam—in cloudless beauty dress'd Like that primeval morn th' Almighty bless'd. THE OCEAN HARP. 85 When first the sun his glorious path essay'd, And wondering herds devour'd the new-sprung glade; On the rich turf when virgin dews distill'd, And brake and bower unwonted music fill'd— Beam, like that dawn whose opening vision hurl'd The light of life, and usher'd forth a world, Ere darkling vapours scal'd the empyreal way, Condens'd to clouds, and triumph'd o'er the day— Beam, with the Summer smile that wins and warms, Or black with VVrnter's breath and stern with storms, Still from all Nature's realm—hills, woods and dells, Kindling anew, thy boundless welcome swells, As round the poles thy crystal eddies play, And fainting systems drink thy silver spray, Sorrow and shade, Night's haggard offspring, flee, And all creation's altars blaze to thee! Light as the balmy breeze, whose gentle tread Scarce wakes the sluggard billow from its bed, I Blithe as the beam, the first Aurora won, As up the east she led the morning sun; v Fresh from my lyre the glowing numbers start, A strain of rapture—octavrd in the heart. . Methinks—yon waters pass'd which lie between, New coasts arise and woods of endless green, H 36 THE OCEAN HARP. Streams yet untrac'd, and solitudes unknown, Where Usurpation never rear'd a throne, Unblasted yet by Power's destructive breath, Unsear'd by Luxury's pestitence of death; Where, undisturb'd, the wild hyaena's roar Shakes the dull silence of some unfound shore, Charter'd by might to govern and oppress, The reeking monarch of the wilderness. A grizzly train of feebler monsters near, Free as the winds, and yet untaught to fear, From deep recess, and forest black with night, Range o'er the waste, and drink revulsive light; Their covert yet no hunter-foe invades, Peaceful their wanderings, and secure their shades: Of Nature's heritage the common heirs, From human vice exempt, and human cares— Their ends of life, Life's cravings to supply— To eat, drink, sleep, and generate, and die! On ocean's verge, cop'd by serener skies, I mark, methinks, a milder region rise; Where waste and wilderness no more expand. But cheerful traffic crowds the busy strand. Free from the maladies of polish'd climes The gloss and guiltiness of classic crimes. THE OCEAN HARP. 87 Life's noblest grace no rank Refinement foils, Nor feeds the shrine of Taste with Virtue's spoils. Here, in the group of exiles, fain to find Some spot where Tyranny has spar'd mankind, Dove-ey'd Simplicity, belov'd of Heaven, From Europe's continents of folly driven, Leads in her train—a meek and modest band— The banish'd Virtues of a prouder land. Here meek Religion plucks the thorn from care, Hope glads her eye, and Faith adorns her prayer; Her pilot-voice delighted youth obeys, And sinking age grows vehement in praise. Blest is that realm, above all nations blest, Whose teeming shores receive the angel-guest; Round her bright form redundant glories shine, Chang'd by her radiance, man becomes divine; External feuds before her bidding cease, And harsh domestic discords melt to peace.— Where yonder venerable mansion rears Its form above the jealousy of years, As weeks, revolving, lead the sabbaths round. What crowds repair with piety profound, There, in the temple of their God, to raise Their rustic homilies of pray'r and praise. 83 THE OCEAN HARP. Mark from yon lips the heavenly precepts fall, Like dews of Hermon shed, and shed for all, Cheer'd by the sound, pale Sickness lifts her eye, Allur'd from life, and covetous to die; Again the banish'd rose adorns her check, Hope plumes her wing, and agony grows weak; Want, as the manna show'rs from heaven distill, Bid to the costly banquet, eats his fill; Pen'ry grows affluent, and Ign'rance wise, And Toil looks up for harvests in the skies. Me thinks—but see, far frowning o'er the deep, What dusky pageants rise in endless sweep? What promontory's tapering length, array'd In deep impervious majesty of shade, Like the long periods of a Lapland night, With lengthening darkness greets the wandering sight' Home of the desolate! Fane of the free! The stranger's Canaan! Here I bend the knee And do thee homage! Great the sacrifice— A thousand hecatombs of ruptur'd ties, Ambition, friendship, kindred, alldestroy'd— I pile upon thine altar! Fill the void This aching bosom feels—'tis all I crave— With some brief substitute, and grant—a grave! THE OCEAN HARK Some flowers to cultivate—some fragrant toys, Which my poor heart, at least may fancy—joys; Give, if thou canst, that Memory may not roam, And grasp the sting of recollected home! I ask not much—Ambition's fires are dim, And Friendship's cup, once sparkling to the brim, Is flaw'd and crack'd—some little charm to win Mine ear from gasping at the name of kin— Some gentle antidote, for poisons past, To root the venom from my brain, and cast, When Care would shroud me in her raven stole, A gleam of peace athwart my sickening soul. I have no joy in man—for still I wear Deep in my heart foul Treach'ry's with'ring sear. I hold him as a tiger, taught to fawn— A well-bred monster for Refinement's lawn— More noble than his fellows of the wood, As there's a dash of reason in his blood; He shares community of appetite, , The gluttony of prey, the lurking spite, The fraud and wariness; he hath no ear For Sorrow's cry, no eye for Suffering's tear- The weak and the forsaken—drts of strife, That languish round Despair, and call it life— h 2 90 THE OCEAN HARP. Are his perpetual food. I ne'er could fly To do the ungracious bidding of his eye, t^ Whose greatness grew not from ingen'rate worth, ■ i But from the courtesies of servile earth. And the fond smile of woman, wont, till now, j To fire my glance, and smooth my furrow'd brow, I I have so seen it kindled by deceit, i Lying so foully with its language sweet, That I have learnt to doubt and to detest The very magic which hath made me blest. Yet would I sooth my heart with flatteries bland, * i Cull'd from the prospect of a lovelier land, Where, yet ungain'd, at Reason's mighty price, j Excess of polish wandering into vice, Man learns to pride himself—and oh! if pride Be just in aught, such may be justified— On truth and freedom, whose benign control Runs through the chain of manners from the soul. The buds of friendship here may kindlier shoot, Blossom more rich, and ripen into fruit; Love may have learn'd no guile, nor charm'd its tongut To break the heart which on its accents hung; And Joy and Hope, inseparable twain. Start from their dreams of gloominess again. THE OCEAN HARP. 91 Dear probability! or, firm, or fleet— A good substantial, or an airy cheat— ' So like a gentle anodyne, thy pow'r , Becalms my breast in this tempestuous hour, ' That, as an earnest of untasted bliss I hold thee welcome as a seraph's kiss. I Yes, Fancy's hand shall cater to my will, And I will feed my hopes with promise still, j New ties shall form—new emulation fire— j Enchant new graces, and new zeal inspire; j Since bubbles satisfy, fools pine for one, | When millions glitter in the noonday sun. ! I'll climb the snow-topp'd Andes' loftiest brow, t And calmly gaze upon a world below; * Smile on the mimic microcosm beneath, The trite monotony of life and death; Trace round inferior heights the tempest's form, And stand, unharm'd, the Saturn of the storm: Or where the mighty Mississippi pours » His thundering streams through undiscover'd shores, *. Surveys wild realms that yet uncultur'd lie, , And drinks the freights of meaner channels dry; J^There, where the swarthy Indian shrinks from view, To trackless woods, or guides the light.canoe, 92 THE OCEAN HARP. Midst Nature's mightier dissonances hurl'd, Forget the discords of a grosser world— Wash from remembrance every trace of pain, And wake to life and liberty again. All hail, thou long Leviathan of lands That liest on the waters! Where thy sands And wooded headlands penetrate the wave, Like an inviting angel, charg'd to save, Fair smiling Promise lifts her figur'd scroll, Writ in the characters that charm the soul, Beck'ning the wanderer on. Blest pioneer! Like Israel's pillar-light, the pathway cheer! Thou art the exile's trust: lead on thine host, Mid dark uncertainties no longer tost; Unfurl Hope's banner to the puissant air, And wrest the laurel from the brow of Care. Hail, thou vast continent! whose morning came Without a twilight; to the noon of fame, Bursting at once—from dull despotic night, Into the broad licentiousness of light! A grace surpassing affluence—freedom's glow— With wreaths of glory binds thy dark-green brow; The shingled cabin shines supremely fair, A monarch's home, if liberty be there; THE OCEAN HARP. 93 1 Warm'd with her smile the wilderness grows gay, O'er noxious glens Hygeian zephyrs play; A richer, bolder livery Nature wears, And Time forgets to register his years. I Unroll the radiant record of an age! Tribes yet unborn shall triumph o'er the page, Shall fire with generous joy to read his name, Who fought for liberty, and vanquish'd fame. ! Ye stars of night, whose silver tresses wave Luxuriant sweetness o'er the patriot's grave— Thou sun, whose lustre greens the shrubs that shed {A sacred shadow round his honor'd bed— Say, on his living image when ye threw The blaze of noon, or midnight's milder hue— Oh! as ye mark'd the wizard of decay, Climb o'er his form and break his strength away— From his pale brow the plume of vigour bend, And all the sinews of his spirit rend— Oh! mourn'd ye not your poverty of power i That could but light, not lengthen, Virtue's hour? Heroes of meaner mould the chisell'd name, | May rescue from the fickleness of fame, And blazon'd lies, rehears'd in phrases sooth, Shine with the rich reality of truth; n 94 THE OCEAN HARP. But all Art's attributes had fail'd to tell ; The worth of him whose deeds discours'cfso well. Earth read his epitaph sublimely grav'd <] In memory's calendar—"A nation sav'd!" fl Crown'd of mankind—gay bubbles of an hour, M That rise and riot on the swell of power, n No such mausoleum boast ye! Pause and read I The Macedonian's tomb—the Prussian—Swede!— ( What were their trophies? Where the realms they freed? For him, indeed, no eloquence of stone Could speak superior praise: there was a tone > In all his acts, which, till the poles consume, Would shame the wealth of language on his tomb:— Yet some slight tribute to a name so dear, Beyond the fleeting homage of a tear, Such worth might claim: is gratitude a charm, * So brief of being, that it takes alarm At Death's pale visage, o'er the new-made grave Withers, and finds a burial with the brave? The very dog which from his master's hand Devour'd his daily mess, train'd, at command. To play the servile mendicant, and urge Irrational faculties to reason's verge, Gains fun'ral rites; and on the garden lawn, Where he was wont to gambol and to fawn, THE OCEAN HARP. 95 Some studied wordsthe debt of mem'ry pay— | " Reader, respect the turf that covers Tray!"—* . Yet could not all the hearts of millions raise, To grace a WASHINGTON, one pile of praise! Who, when the recreant spirits of the time, Call'd firmness folly, and endurance crime; Here treach'rous friends, an open faction there, | Foes on his rear, and in his front despair; ; Met the concenter'd currents as they came, I Beat back the waves, and won eternal fame— Lies, like a slave, 'mid common corses thrown— i Marble, nor epitaph, nor index!—none! Oh, if the spirits of the dead can know The deeds of earth; and aught of mortal wo, | Bosoms ethereal pierce, tears that might feed Autumnal clouds, or summer's thirsty need Supply with fruitful showers, those'eyes might yield, As all Columbia's pen'ry stands reveal'd! ; How would his charg'd heart swell, as clos'd up life Open'd once more its chronicle of strife, And, on the faded surface of the brain, Disjday'd the pageantry of time again; Recall'd the deeds his daring arm had done. Ages of freedom for his country won. 96 THE OCEAN HARP- Yet not a heap of stones, nor rough hewn stave, 4 To mark the area, hallow'd by his grave! t ! Wake, land of Freedom, won by glorious toil, t Shake from thy dignity this damning foil- Unjust no more, the day of avarice sped, i Exalt the living and appease the dead: Bid the rich column proudly blazon forth J To unborn times th' eternity of worth— A shrine where future ages may repair To hold sweet colloquies and reverence there. From thy dark woods though deepening shadows roll, Their midnight hues are sunshine to my soul! Rome once was like thee; oh! 'tis joy to trace The first unfoldings of her early grace, Till curse of gold—the pestilence of wealth— Breath'd murd'rous mildews round her form of health; < Then all her glories sicken'd: from her sway The train of subject nations broke away. There was a wreath for ruini—pigmy states Which she had made or marr'd, ev'n to her gates, ' Hurl'd their defiance;—Lust, Intemperance, Feud, Within her walls—a traitor multitude— Leagued with her foes without; then tardily came Her day of pain, and penitence, and shame: THE OCEAN HARP. 97 Kings who had known her chastening, when the sear Fell on her laurels, from their trance of fear Rous'd by the shout of vengeance, shook the dust From rusting helms; in retribution just, Allied by kindred Wrongs. Why, ere she fell Lack'd she some wise Thrasybulus to expel The tyrant vices? Why some arm to save That last sad step—from glory to the grave? Thy shrine is starr'd with trophies; in thy fane Monarchs are high-priests: a resplendent train, Oh Luxury! homage at thy footstool!—kaee That knew no prior reverence, bends to thee! Valour resigns his sword, and Genius tears With maniac hand the laurell'd grace of years; Learning his lore forsakes; frail Beauty breaks Her magic wand—the roses of her cheeks; Wisdom, thy threshold pass'td, his silver hairs In adoration bows, and cheerly wears iThy spangled coronet: from cavern drear With steady step the philosophic seer Blends with thy throng of worshippers; and last, To swell the blazing rites, by nations cast, Freedom herself expires. There dies the dream! Swift from her throne the female Polypheme 93 THE OCEAN HARP. Melts into subtle ether—trophies fade— Shrine, altars siok in undistinguished shade— Of all the pageant those but fail to fly, Who came to worship, and remain—to die! Beware, Columbia! Shun the harlot wile That seeks to murder, while it seems to smile! Fly from the withering palsy Luxury flings In perfum'd breezes, and cosmetic springs. As Rome was in her greatness, shalt thou be, Strong with her strength, and with her freedom free: Thy freighted keels shall plough the distant deeps, From Borneo's shores to Norway's icy steeps. No foeman's foot thy guarded coasts shall tread; No blasting strifes, by fiery factions bred, Shall scathe thy bowers of peace, nor scatter far The wasting tempest of domestic war. Thy fear is on the nations. Europe's eye Shrinks from the gleam of thy prosperity! Still shalt thou prosper! Like yon orb of day. Whose glory melts the lesser lights away, Thy soaring fame, amidst the western wild, Where, not till now, Taste, Learning, Science, smil'd, Above the stars of prouder spheres shall rise, The eclipsing light, the monarch of the skies. THE OCEA> HARP. 99 Thou hast done nobly; when the oppressor came, Bright was the bursting of thy patriot flame: That was thy day of trial: dark it rose, Big with the menace of unnumber'd woes; Death stood across thy path, and grimly frown'd A fearful hurricane of horror round; Right was thy strength; infectious valour rush'd, Far as the forest gloom'd, or current gush'd: Where mountain-heights in weary wildness ran, And savage deserts mock'd the toil of man. Rous'd by the shriek of Freedom, each morass Pour'd forth its Cincinnatus; every pass Had its Leonidas; stern Vengeance gave New nerves to strength, new vigour to the brave. Oh! 'twas a nation's kindling! Hearts that swell'd With nature's sympathies, at once rebell'd Against themselves; son, substance, sire and wife— All the soft relatives that sweeten life, Relax'd their grasp, and liberty alone Usurp'd the bosom's undivided throne! .Distinctions ceas'd:—want, wealth in brotherhood, Yok'd to the wheels of war, together stood: The slake was mighty: 'twas a glorious cast— Triumph's first charter, or Misfortune's last. 0 -J 'IE OCEAN HARP. Yet not a r>ng'e conflict; victory led To netv en, ->ut ters; where the battle bled Fre^h '.c-.i!s were scatter'd—elements of death— JNew harvests for the grave—a gloomy wreath, Wav'd o'er the field: then rush'd the scathe of flame, And nature wither'd where the ruin came. The blazing hamlet round the landscape shed A mortal brightness; from her dang'rous bed, Seiz'd by untimely travail, wild though weak, The heavy night-breeze bore the mother's shriek. The cries of houseless wanderers, which the woods Mock'd with loud echoes, and the rushing floods Crush'd with their cataract-roar—the scar'd wolf's yell Driven by the fiery surges down the dell— The clash of steel—the smother'd groan that broke, As reeking carnage urg'd the fatal stroke— The roll of musketry—the cannon's burst, That shook the hills—and discords harsh that nurs'd The battle's rage from trumpet's clarion breath, Piercing the solitudes with notes of death— Chaos of horror—climax of distress— Expression has no faculty to express Such glut of dreariness: words"sicken—die, Within your grapple of enormity, And the o'ercharg'd soul withdraws its aching scan. And shrinks to feel itself the kin of man. 1HL OCEAN HARP. 101 Fortune was with thee; Freedom was thine own! The lovely meed of many conflicts won: From all thy glens the knell of Faction rung, The song of Peace through all thy vales was sung; Back to his toil the conqueror-peasant hied, Again the broad axe bow'd the mountain-side, While Pride, a stranger to the wilds before, Explor'd the woods, and sojourn'd with the boor. But who that morn of glad return shall sing, . When the pale matron, stooping to the spring, Saw imag'd there, the echo of her heart, The semblance of a long-lost husband start? Scar'd at the sight, a thousand strange alarms j Rush through her breast, till Henry's circling arms, ' And the soft pressure of his greeting kiss, ; Dissolve her doubts to rhapsodies of bliss. Their first endearments past, she woos his tale, Tells all the gossip-scandal of the vale; J Talks of his hardy boys, and girls of brown, !In strength the first, the last in figure grown; Points out his darling William on the wild, And looks half jealous as he hugs his child. j Rous'd by the sounds of joy, the tavern, forge, And humble store their wondering groupes disgorge, i2 102 THE OCEAN HARP. And all the gather'd gossips haste to learn Their neighbour's tale, and welcome his return: Then as he told the dangers he had seen, Where he himself Death's intimate had been; Where, o'er the hills, as night's long shadows flew, Flames were the dawn of morn, and blood the dew; Of long and desperate marchings, as he told, O'er sand and swamp, with hunger cramp'd, and cold; No fires to warm, no friendly voice to cheer, No sheltering shade through all the desert drear,— And, as the chilling day-break glanc'd the glade, Of savage Indian's mortal ambuscade;— With looks of love he eyed his shuddering wife, And whisper'd—" Providence still spar'd my life!— " The tedious, fearful race of danger o'er, " Here on my little farm I dwell once more; "' Much have I toil'd: now grant me, Heaven, the prize,- " Health, freedom, competence, beneath the skies; " The smile of love to light my years' increase; u An age of honour and a death of peace!"— This—this is Glory's substance! Ye whose deeds Are History's pageant, bring your laurell'd meeds, And tread them in the dust! Your dreams of pride Are but as ripples on life's ebbing tide: THE OCEAN HARP. 10 Your laurels have no spell to keep them green, They cannot bring back moments which have been, And weave from memory tissues of delight To charm the present. Pour your tales of might In woman's shrinking ear, and proudly tell That to your prowess slaughter'd armies fell;— Subdue the weak with feats whose history wounds, Till the stunn'd ear grow surfeit with the sounds.— Yours is a costly privilege:—bought with broil And prodigality of peril: toil Should reimburse the toiler; man should count The worth of purchase, ere he boasts th' amount. One smile of tender greeting, from the eye We love, in Reason's estimate, would buy- Spite of the specious splendor of a name— A whole eternity of empty fame. Who stands for liberty, his falchion draws By Heaven's own impulse: 'tis the sacred cause, Which, left unguarded, in its ruin draws All life's immunities. There is no grave Of depth to hide the baseness of a slave; No glade shall verdure it—no cypress shed Refreshing coolness o'er the sullied bed; No stone shall mark the spot, nor letter'd phrase |Pnt forth its little monody of praise. 104 THE OCEAN HARP. The God was marr'd in him, and, where he lies, Man shuns communion, and all Nature dies. Who then, that bears Heaven's impress on his brow— And in his soul Heaven's fire, would basely bow To wear the badge of bondage? Who resign The argent grace of heraldry divine, That shines in Manhood's eye, or meanly change The power to will—to act—through being's range, For ignominious fetters? All thy scope Of wood and wild, such renegade from hope— Such vile abortion holds not. Pith and spine, The strength of Liberty is thine—not thine Its bold licentious rankness;—not the swell Of boisterous passions, eager to rebel— Perverting Freedom, from her due intent, To nurse rapacious Riot—pests long pent In the soul's darkness, madly to unbind And loose the loathsome lepers on mankind:— There is a moral code writ in the breast In lines which cannot fade;—a law express'd— Not from Man's wisdom; yet its aim and end His happiness: before its influence bend Nations of alien hues and climes unknown;— The Indian feels it in his sultry zone; 1 THE OCEAN HARP. 105 Before its power the northern savage bows, Amidst his cavern'd sepulchre of snows;— Tis this tlr.it qualifies and tempers down The pride of Liberty, and with its own Peculiar force, levels the surface rude iOfuntam'd Nature, reproducing good From its own embers; govern'd by this sway Thy freedom shines the loveliest; in its ray Virtue and Piety repose, and shed [ Their strengthening graces round thy soaring head. i SAre thy sons valiant? Pause upon the tale Of southern prowess—when from hill and vale, * Swamp and morass, his schemes of triumph foil'd, | The stern invader suddenly recoil'd; 11 is daring track, with broken plume, retrod, | Or, gnashing curses, perish'd on the sod. Then pour'd thy towering heights, proud Tennessee, Souls breathing fire, and, like their mountains free— Flush'd with disdain of life, and prompt to die, [. If Death alone could purchase victory; Tin1 biave Iveutuckian, and from Mobile's coast, i Eager for fight, a ruder, swarthier host; The subtle Spaniard, and inveterate Gaul, Round their adopted mother marshall'd all: 106 THE OCEAN HARP. Aliens in hue and tongue, in clime and blood, Yet knit by war in firmest brotherhood. Thy cits, Orleans, by manly vigour steel'd, Then left the lifeless wharf, and throng'd the field; Untaught in Danger's school, untrain'd to share The soldier's dreary watch, and soanty fare; In dismal marsh to freeze the live-long day, And, couch'd on ice, to groan the night away; Yet at their country's call—for what of earth Adheres not to the spot that gave it birth?— Resolv'd to meet whatever ills might come, Or ere their hearths should be the spoiler's home! No spoiler's home was there, save his who bled, And found in death, a dwelling with the dead; Who came, a robber, from Oppression's clime, And paid with life the forfeit of his crime. Heav'n was the soil's defence;—that breath of might Which struck th' Assyrian with eternal blight, Palsy'd the arm of Britain as she fought, And all her valour fritter'd into nought. | Mark where thy conq'ring canvass courts the breeze,} And spreads thine empire o'er remotest seas; Clips the proud pinion of old Europe's fame, And lights the glory of a mightier name. THE OCEAN HARP. 107 ■I i No more shall tj rant-navies proudly sweep, And, arm'd with impious power, usurp the deep; Here, in the West, a rival spirit braves The stern, self-see pUt'd anarch of the waves; Here hurls the gauntlet to her frown of pride, Disputes her sway, and bids her stand defy'd; IpissolveB the spell which bourfd inferior shores, And Freedom's charter to a world restores. ■ Rouse, heirs of Ocean! check Ambition's lust, Curb lawless rule, and make the oppressor just: Free as at first, let ocean's billows roll, From the red tropic, to the ice-bound pole; Where every flag shall equal privilege find— The vast inheritance of all mankind. ! Thrice blest Columbia! bid thy genius start From groveling apathy; woo Science, Art, The graces of the soul;—their dazzling might Shall pierce thy wilds with intellectual light: -i Be freedom glory's impulse, not her end! ^ Did Egypt catch the thought from Heaven, and bend The beauteous arch; with bossy sculpture grave The fretted frieze, and moulded architrave? y Had China her Confucius'—'midst the light Of Roman glory, shine their rays more bright 108 THE OCEAN HARP. Than Tully's periods, and the Mantuan's lay- When shall the Grecian fade? When pass away The Bactrian's fame? When the Athenian star Wan'd to its set, Death lack'd the pow'r to mar The beauty of his radiance. Ev'n now I see Through Fancy's lens, a dazzling seed from thee— Gems of thy native mines, whose worth shall raise Thy name to long posterity of praise. On Mem'ry's mirror how resplendent shine The forms of genius past—a dazzling line, Rich with surpassing lustre! Time may fade The weaklier lights of earth; but still, array'd In worth unperishing, their fame shall stand, Till his blunt sithe fall, shiver'd, from his hand. Of such was Franklin—politician—sage— Philosopher of his—of every age: Patriot, whom pleasure could not bribe, nor pow'r Win from his country in her trying hour. Science and Art, in matchless force combin'd, Compos'd his mighty aggregate of mind: When, like Prometheus, greatly, boldly wise, He stole the blazing fluid from the skies, Raptur'd Philosophy, his triumph won, Flew from th' Atlantic's verge, to greet her son, THE OCEAN HARP. 109 Smil'd on the daring deed, confess'd his claim, And with immortal splendor tipp'd his name. Long as the seasons frame the fleeting year, As winters cramp, or smiling summers cheer; While, 'midst the airy, planetary throng, Attraction rolls the giddy earth along; Long as the billows swell, the breezes blow, And mountain summits mock the vales below; Genius shall hold its sway! Souls less endu'd, May pass and perish with the multitude; Perform their little episodes of life, And exeunt all: but not Creation's strife, Nor Nature's defalcation, nor the gloom— The more than Stygian darkness of the tomb— Can dim the star of intellect, or change, 'Mid withering worlds, its bright, eternal range. Sway'd by a false, unconquerable pride, When virtuous Hamilton ignobly died, Say, did he fall unmourn'd? Was there no tear T' embalm his wortli, save that which dew'd his bier? Eyes which had not beheld him, yet had grown Familiar with his greatness—hearts unknown__ Exotic sympathies—beyond the main, Reph 'd in all the bitterness of pain. K no THE OCEAN HARP. Oh that one stain at last should foully mar, The beaming brilliance of so bright a star! That who above his fellows' weakness shone Should sadly fall, the victim of his own! Oh that on christian soil, a shrine should rise. Foul with the smoke of human sacrifice; Where at the idol Honour's fierce command, > Unblushing Murder riots through the land, Friends fall to friends—to kindred, kindred bleed. And tyrant Custom sanctifies the deed! Shall man, in theory alone refin'd, In practice ape the offal of his kind! With passion's firebrand desolate his race, And blaze defiance to his Maker's face! High-priests of hell! pursue your work of strife, Throw by the sword, and seize the savage knife; Let scalps of friends your reeking halls unfold, And by your trophies be your prowess told! Come, dogs of death, spit forth your furious foam, Destroy the sweet securities of home— Be widows' curses, and the orphans' cry, Your morning hail, your midnight lullaby; In Pleasure's chase, may every darling trust, Like Sodom's apples, dissipate to dust; Where'er ye die, may none be there to weep May poison'd shrubs shed venom where ye sleep. THE OCEAN HARP. Ill And desperate fiends, in howling octaves rave, Their madd'ning paeans round the murderer's grave! Yd while the vicious fashion of the time Smiles on the slayer,—while, to avenge the crime Existing codes refuse, and maids adore The wretch red dripping with his brother's gore— VV hat force of words—what stretch of ridicule Shall chaDge the braggart and disarm the fool? The seed is in society:—it shoots In nature's rankness, and its baleful fruits ' Shall flourish, 'till Society's remorse Destroy th' engend'ring misery in its source— Tear up the cancerous roots—and, from the breast Of life, dislodge some nerves, to save the rest! Shall Peun be unremember'd?—He, whose word Outstripp'd the reekiug triumphs of the sword? Whose tones, like his—Apollo's gifted child— J Subdu'd impervious woods, and green'd the wild— Shall he, at whose command the forest rung To axe and wedge, unhonour'd and unsung, Beneath the soil he grae'd, like meaner clay, To dull Forgetfulness dissolve away? No—if the warrior's chaplet, steep'd in tears, Bloom bright along the wilderness of years, 112 THE OCEAN HARP. How lovelier far the coronet, whose leaf Nor d> ing streams bedew'd, nor living grief. The sterner spirits of the land may come, To pay their homage at the Soldier's tomb; But all the milder virtues, train'd to love The haunts of peace—ia solitary grove, In sylvan bow'r, or round the brook which pours Its murmuring stream, through labyrinths of flow'rs, Chanting their carols of content—shall raise To pure Philanthropy a nobler praise. For what avail the triumphs bought with blood? Disease infects their fame! Deep in the bud The laurel bears a mildew that will feed Upon the doer's glory, through the deed. But they who win by courtesy, oppress— Destroy—usurp not!—them no fatherless— No houseless—spouseless—hope in brawn and chine Cut through, to gorge war's reeking libertine— In anguish imprecate! no boundless wild Unpeopled, once where Man and Nature smil'd, Opens their path to greatness! Virgin Spring Her fragrant first-fruits thither speeds to bring Where Penn reposes—for his fingers trae'd A way for Beauty in the charmless waste; Swift, at his voice, through channels clos'd till now. The tides of social life began to flow, THE OCEAN HARP. 113 And where eternal shades had held control, Broke forth the morn—the majesty of soul! Thy Rush shall live, while Hope's sweet voice can cheer The languid eye, the suffocating ear— ' That bright redeeming form, who nobly stood, And brav'd, alone, the pestilential flood; ' Whose mind of giant might, and vigorous hand, ' From Death's wide ravage re-subdued the land; Clos'd up the volume of despair, and gave To sinking Man a respite from the grave! Inscribe his name, ye ministers of heaven, j To whom the custody of worth is given— ' Ye fervid ministers of Fame—enrol, Emblaze the cypher in your dazzling scroll. Stand forth, intrepid phalanx, from whose pen j Rush'd the decree which mark'd and made ye—men! Won by your gallantly, the mountain maid A people's wish, a people's prayer, obey'd, And hill and vale, shrub, flow'ret, turf and tree, Gave back the signal shout of liberty. Though Death's despotic arm hath rent in twain The cords of mortal ecstacy and pain, k 2 114 THE OCEAN HARP. Beyond his grasp, your virtues bore away /\ A lien on life—a charter from decay. , i Shades of departed genius! O'er your graves, Where the yew darkens and the poplar waves, Ages shall bring their tributes—gray-hair'd sire j To deeds of worth his kindling offspring .fire nJ By the recount of yours. Where erst ye fought J With word or weapon, glowing myriads caught <1 The ennobling impulse;—guided by your flame, Armies unborn shall swell the rolls of Fame. Welcome, twin capes, whose very wildness charms! Inclose the wanderer in your giant arms! Welcome, ye woods, in vernal beauty crown'd; H Ye groves of silence, 'midst whose dark profound, The weird-creator Fancy may endite From circling chaos, spells of life and lightf rf Whether my wayward fortune lead to roam, Where hope ne'er wish'd, nor ardour sketch'd a hofflfl Where uncouth yells their savage echoes pour Round the rude heights of California's shore; Or southward, where the streams of life soon dry * Beneath the fury of a feverish sky; I Or with the chiller gales that, northward, spread i* Precocious storms round Bonavista's head!— t THE OCEAN HARP. 115 Welcome, all change of clime—all scope of space— Diversities of language, form and face— Be the whole universe my dwelling place! What sea—what shore shall bound the spirit's flight9 Unscath'd by tropic fire, by polar night, And icy continents unfroze, it still Obeys the vigorous master-spring of will; Thrives ev'n in desolation—makes its bed In cavern creeks that scoop the mountain's head— Defies extremities of suffering—springs From Peril's whirlpool with recruited wings— Rides with the demon in the Tempest's car, And marks, unmov'd, the elemental war— ! Lives where inferior being fades—receives All spiritual sustenance Creation gives— And in frail Nature's withering, fresh and free, C! rasps its reversion—immortality! Faint, twinkling galaxy of crowns and courts, Within whose orbit base-born Bondage sports:— Ye pigmy states, where murder'd Freedom's knell By tyrant-hands was rung!—a last farewell! Farewell, ye revel-routs, where Fashion's breath Scatters the pestdence of moral death! Farewell, the pomp and pageantry of state— Those gilded gew-gaws that delight the great, 116 THE OCEAN HARP. Convey'd, when titled age its race hath run, A sacred heritage from sire to son! The lazar-house of Luxury, and the halls Stunn'd with the Bacchanalian's drunken brawls— The mask—the midnight orgies, rank and lewd, Of Dissipation's mindless multitude— The nobler temple, where the fools within Garnish with decency each dish of sin; With high-wrought models please the sensual town, And with a sophism put poor conscience down- All, all, farewell! Ye epigrams of life, With more of poison than of pleasure rife, No more ye fascinate! Your spell is broke! Pomp, Pride, and Folly, I discard your yoke! Far from your eddies of eternal strife, Here, 'midst the sweet tranquillities of life, I sit me down—a pilgrim, worn and weak— Where Peace, and calm Retirement, whose soft cheek Ne'er knew the flush of passion—sober pair- Turn from the wilderness the foot of Care! Here will I rest! The pine upon the heath, Shall yield at once a shelter and a wreath! Here will I trim my lamp, and in its wane, From care reap wisdom, and content from pain! THE OCEAN HARP. 117 iere, as my sand ebbs out, and nature flies a dizzy circles from my dying eyes, •Yoni richer founts new gleams of heavenly light jhall chase the shadows of departing night, Till all the mortal being melt away Into the splendor of immortal day! THE END. Ill suoinndt ON THE DEATH or JOHN SYNG DORSEY, ESQ. M.D. TO PHILIP SYNG PHYSICK, ESQUIRE, M.D. The enlightened tutor and zealous friend of the sub- ject of this monody; and whose professional genius hath raised him to the same elevation in the pubhc opinion, as the mildness, modesty and sincerity of his charac- ter have given to him in the affection of his private friends, the following tribute is inscribed by THE AUTHOR. Philadelphia, January, 1819. MONODY, &c. What mournful train—what melancholy tread— Invades the desert empire of the dead? Why, round yon hearse, in gloomy concourse, crowd The grave, the gay, the profligate, and proud?— What guiding light a downward course hath trac'd?— What flower hath perish'd from life's cheerless waste?— " Dorsey:"—methinks some stamm'ring whisper sighs— Weep, Science, Genius, Virtue—Dorsey dies!" Groves oi the west!—from broad Ontario's steep, To southern shores—in drops of amber weep!— (J row pale, Humanity—reject relief, And breathe abroad a wilderness of grief!— Ej es, yet unquench'd with tears—and souls, 'till now, Untaught to sutler, and unwont to bow!— Pride, that nc'or look'd a prayer, nor bent a knee, But caught its creed,from Fashion's homily!— Avarice, the prey of Wealth—and, basely free, Short-sighted maniac, Prodigality!__ 124 MONODY. Love, whose pale cheek is ever moist with tears!— Green, sprightly Youth—and Weakness,whelm'dwitk years!— Genius, with raptur'd eye—and smirking Folly!— ^ Gay Ecstacy—and gloom-wrapt Melancholy!— ,, Blend your diversities of taste, and crave An hour of wo—an audience of the grave! Heard ye that shriek ?—From yon deserted dome, Which Art adorns, and Learning calls her home— What cry of agony—what piercing sound— Flings Sorrow's withering epidemy round? i See, from the range of urns which proudly bears , The cherish'd relics of her former cares— Rush—Shippen—Wistar—many a broken trust— , Despairing Science turns to Dorsey's dust; Takes her new charge, and with grief-lab'ring breast, And frantic movement, adds it to the rest. " So soon!"—she cries'—" recall'd from earth so soon! " Before the sun of life had reach'd its noon! " Or ere the pledge thy morn of talent gave " Years could redeem—so soon to glut the grave! " Did I not nurse thee with a mother's care? " Did I not bless thee with a mother's prayer? M0N0DV. 125 «' InviJious death!—why not direct thy dart " To drain the fountain of some meaner heart? " Could no foul shoot of indolence or vice— " No readier prize—no ranker spoil suffice?— " Month after month must drooping Genius wear, " For sons destroy'd, the sable of despair:— " And, as their living laurels burst to bloom, " See the young fruitage falling for the tomb? "• Mark yon frail cabinet:—that vase of earth— " That brittle prison of unbounded worth— " A Rush inhabits.—Had that valued frame " Receiv'd a life immortal as his fame, " These halls had heard him now. But now, no more, " Fed from his mighty mind's exhaustless store, " Shall hungering crowds be fill'd; nor Sickness cry— '■'• ' Health waits thy bidding; clear this clouded eye; " ' Re-tint these cheeks; new hope, new vigor give: " ' Touch with thy talisman, and I shall live!' " There SnippEN sleeps:—Corruption's sordid crust ' Twines, like a filthy lecher, round his dust! 11 Why could not talent give him power to brave " The front of death, and deprecate the grave? " This urn retains—oh, for celestial fire, " His \ct unwasted corse to re-inspire!— " A wreck of Wistar:—though in Nature's strife, ■" Abruptly broke the o'er-stretch'd cords of life, l 2 126 MONODY. " His name, unmarr'd by Frailty's foul alloy, 4 " No time can mutilate, no stroke destroy! " And thou, my Dorsey, could nor prayers nor tears " Prolong thy scanty calendar of years? " Lov'd as thou wert—endow'd with matchless skill, " To stem the pestilence of human ill, " Could not a thousand hours, to others giv'n, M " Add one to thine, ere that sweet cord was riv'n, " Before that pulse resign'd its wonted play, " And sudden darkness quench'd the light of daj? '{ " Come then, my charge; and Science' grief shallb« " Thy mem'ry's herald to posterity!" Well may'st thou murmur, mournful maid, and shed O'er Dorsey's urn, rich offerings to the dead! Well may'st thou weep; and well may Art combine ] Her drops of hallow'd agony with thine— For much he lov'd her, and her plastic powers Gave a uew vigor to the drooping hours. Touch'd by Creation's wand, at Fancy's will, The gifted crayon show'd Promethean skill, And mimic forms, to nature's outline true, Swift from the teeming canvass rush'd to view. Through mysteries toil unfolds to meaner man, * Prompt to conceive, his rapid genius ran, MONODY. No task ungain'd, unconquer'd no design, The sculptor's curve, the graver's subtle line, And, still, where'er his devious talent rov'd, Taste smil'd applause, and rival Art approv'd. And he was dear to sage Philosophy, Who bends to times unborn his asking eye!— And dear to Poesy, whose eagle gaze, (Unshrinking, riots in the noontide blaze! Whose magic wakes the thunder, and unbinds The forked lightnings, and the warring winds!— ■To Music dear, soft, heaven-descended sprite, Who grasps the magic sceptre of delight, And, with a spell of sound, usurps control, And leads in sweet captivity the soul!— Dear to Morality, whose pilot-ray Through Error's labyrinth detects the way!— Dear to those tender sympathies which bind All kindred tints and properties of kind; Which heart to heart in blending ties unite, Links forg'd by Nature, circling round delight!— And dear to Piety, whose look of love, W hose hopes and ecstacies are fix'd above; W hich, like the gems that shed a sparkling grace Hound the rich portrait of some valued face, 128 MONODY. Enrich'd each thought, each faculty of soul, And with a glorious finish crown'd the whole! Come then, Philosophy, too stern to weep, Come, look and languish where these relics sleep!— Come, reckless, wild, and wanton as thou art, Come, minstrel-maid, a dying strain impart; Thy fairy fictions leave for times of bliss, And give to truth and tears an hour like this!— Come, Music, come, let sounds of mirth be still, And solemn chords the chilling pauses fill!— Pensive Morality, sad, lonely one, Come, sigh, with Israel's king—" my son! my son!"— And thou, meek Piety, benignly given To urge the weak, and win the wise to heaven, 'Mid weeping groups, with seraph smile survey The swelling spirit burst th' ignoble clay, From life's dark frontier swiftly, proudly rise, Reliev'd from earth, impatient for the skies! But you, endearing sympathies, that tie Those knots of love, which make it death to die!— Ye sweet relationships, whose witcheries give To ice-bound apathy, a wish to live!— Rent as ye are—destroy'd the tender chain— Heaven can unite the sever'd links again! 129 Thou, lovely mourner, whose distracted eye Seeks, through the circling earth, and concave sky, i Some phantom form, whose visionary smile Might Memory of its constancy beguile— That frantic attitude—that hurried breath— ; That cheek whose marble paleness rivals death— That look of sad content which seems to say— ; " The giver's hand hath snatch'd the gift away,"— Bespeaks a deep sincerity of grief, t Whose fulness covets, yet defies relief. What though the morning beam no more shall dart g Refreshing ardor through yon throbless heart— Though mildew's trail along that cheek be seen, And the worm banquets where thy lips have been!— Let the worm feed, and break the gross control hich bound in sordid chains his high-born soul- Let the coil'd glutton revel and reclaim The mortal baseness that alloy'd his fame— His worth escapes corruption! Death's dull night | Is the dark foil that amplifies its light— The sphere of clouds, amidst whose murky rack, His rising orb reveals its beauteous track:— ■Memory shall balm it with unpurchas'd tears— fRenown defend it from the scathe of years, In time's tiara a resplendent trust— [ A gem extracted from a century's dust! 130 MONODY. Spirits of power—who tread that heavenly site, Whence countless suns draw plenitudes of light- Dart from your dwellings of resplendent day, And guide the buoyant stranger on his way! Warders of Paradise—your gates unfold— Your glowing portals of unmolten gold,— Seal the new seraph with redemption's kiss, And greet him home—a denizen of bliss! FAREWELL TO ENGLAND. " While now I take my last adieu, " Heave thou no sigh, nor shed a tear, j " Lest yet my tearful eye should view, i " An object that deserves my care." i FAREWELL TO ENGLAND! 1. Oh! land of my fathers, and mine! The noblest, the best, and the bravest— Heart-broken and lorn, I resign The joys and the hopes which thou gavest! 2. Dear mother of Freedom! farewell! Even freedom is irksome to me— Be calm, throbbing heart, nor rebel— For Reason approves the decree. 3. Did I love?—Be my witness, high heaven! That mark'd all my frailties and fears— I ador'd—but the magic is riven— Be the memory expungM by my tears! M 134 FAREWELL TO ENGLAND. 4. The moment of rapture how bright— How dazzling—how transient its glare— A comet in splendor and flight— The herald of darkness and care— 5. Recollections of tenderness gone,— Of pleasure no more to return— A wanderer—an outcast alone— Oh! leave me, untortur'd, to mourn. 6. Where—where shall my heart find repose— A refuge from memory and grief? The gangrene, wherever it goes, Disdains a fictitious relief. 7. Could I trace out that fabulous stream, Which washes remembrance away— Again might the eye of Hope gleam The dawn of a happier day. FAREWELL TO ENGLAND. 135 8. Hath wine an oblivious power?— Can it pluck out the sting from the brain? The draught may beguile for an hour— But still leaves behind it the pain. 9. Can distance or time heal the heart That bleeds from its innermost pore? Or intemperance lessen its smart— Or a cerate apply to its sore? 10. If I rush to the ultimate pole, The form I adore will be there— A phantom to torture my soul— And mock at my bootless despair. 11. The zephyr of eve, as it flies, Will whisper her voice in mine ear— And, moist with her sorrows and sighs, Demand for Love's altar a tear. 136 FAREWELL TO ENGLAND. 12. And still in the dreams of the day— And still in the visions of night— Will Fancy her beauties display— Disordering—deceiving—my sight. 13. Hence, vain fleeting images, hence! Grim phantoms that 'wilder my brain— Mere frauds upon Reason and Sense— Engender'd by Folly and Pain! 14. Did I swear on the altar of heaven My fealty to her I ador'd? Did she give back the vows I had giv'n— And plight back the plight of her lord? 15. If I err'd for a moment from Love, The error I flew to retrieve— Kiss'd the heart I had wounded, and strove To sooth, ere it ventur'd to grieve. FAREWELL TO ENGLAND. 137 16. Did I bend, who had ne'er bent before? Did I sue, who was us'd to command? Love forc'd me to weep and implore— And Pride was too weak to withstand! 17. Then why should one frailty, like mine, Repented, and wash'd with my tears, Erase those impressions divine,— The faith and affection of years? 18. Was it well, between anger and love, That Pride the stern umpire should be— And that heart should its flintiness prove On none, till it prov'd it on me? 19. And, ahl was it well, when I knelt, Thy tenderness so to conceal, That, witnessing all which I felt, Thy sternness forbad thee to feel? m 2 138 FAREWELL TO ENGLAND. 20. Then, when the dear pledge of our love, Look'd up to her mother and smil'd— Say, was there no impulse that strove To back the appeal of the child? 21. That bosom, so callous and chill— So treacherous to love and to me— Ah! felt it no heart-rending thrill, As it turn'd from the innocent's plea? 22. That ear which was open to all Was ruthlessly clos'd to its lord— Those accents which fiends would enthral, Refus'd a sweet peace-giving word. 23. And think'st thou, dear object—for still To my bosom thou only art life, And, spite of my pride and my will, I bless thee—I woo thee—my wife__ KAREWELL TO ENGLAND. 139 24. Oh! think'st thou that absence shall bring The balm which will give thee relief— Or time, on its life-wasting wing, An antidote yield for thy grief? 25. Thy hopes will be frail as the dream Which cheats the long moments of night, But melts in the glare of the beam Which breaks from the portal of light. 26. For when on thy babe's smiling face, Thy features and mine intertwin'd, The finger of Fancy shall trace— The spell shall resistlessly bind: 27. The dimple that dwells on her cheek— The glances that beam from her eye— The lisp, as she struggles to speak— Shall rlash every smile with a sigh. 140 FAREWELL TO ENGLAND. 28. Then I, though whole oceans between Their billowy barriers may rear— Shall triumph, though far and unseen— Unconscious—uncall'd—shall be there. 29. The cruelty sprang not from thee, 'Twas foreign and foul to thy heart— That levell'd its arrow at me, And fix'd the incurable smart. 30. Ah no! 'twas another than thine, The hand which assail'd my repose; It struck—and too fatally mine The wound, and its offspring of woes. 31. They hated us both, who destroyed The buds and the promise of Spring— For who, to replenish the void, New ties—new affections—can bring? FAREWELL TO ENGLAND. 141 32. Alas! to the heart that is rent, What nostrums can soundness restorer Or what, to the bow over-bent, The spring which it carried before? 33. The rent heart will fester and bleed, And fade like the leaf in the blast— The crack'd yew no more will recede, Though vig'rous and tough to the last. 34. I wander—it matters not where— No clime can restore me my peace— Or snatch from the frown of Despair, A cheering—a fleeting release! 35. How slowly the moments will move! How tedious the footsteps of years! When valley and mountain aud grove Shall change'but the scene of my tears! 142 FAREWELL TO ENGLAND. 36. The classic memorials which nod— The spot dear to Science and Lore- Sarcophagus—temple—and sod— Excite me and ravish no more! 37. The stork on the perishing wall, Is better and happier than I— Content in his ivy-built hall, He hangs out his heme in the sky. 38. But houseless and heartless, I rove, My bosom all bar'd to the wind— The victim of Pride, and of Love— I seek—but, ah! where can I find?— 39. I seek what no tribes can bestow— I ask what no clime can impart— A charm which can neutralize wo, And dry up the tears of the heart. FAREWELL TO ENGLAND. 143 40. I ask it—I seek it—in vain— From Ind to the northernmost pole, Unheeded—unpitied—complain, And pour out the grief of my soul. 41. What bosom shall heave when I sigh? What tears shall respond when I weep? To my wailings what wail shall reply? What eye mark the vigils I keep? 42. Even thou—as thou learnest to prate- Dear babe—while remotely I rove— Shalt count it a duty—to hate Where Nature commands thee to love! 43: The foul tongue of Malice shall peal My vices—my faults—in thine ear— And teach thee, with dsemon-hke zeal, A father's affection to fear. 144 FAREWELL TO ENGLAND. 44. And oh! if in some distant day, Thine ear may be struck with my lyre, And Nature's true index may say— " It may be—it must be—my sire!" 45. Perchance to thy prejudic'd eye, Obnoxious my form may appear— Even Nature be deaf to my sigh— And Duty refuse me a tear. 46. Yet sure in this isle, where my songs Have echoed from mountain and dell, Some tongue the sad tale of my wrongs With grateful emotion may tell. 47. Some youth, who had valued my lay, And warm'd o'er the tale as it ran, To thee, even, may venture to say— " His frailties were those of a man!" FAREWELL TO ENGLAND. 145 48. They were;—they were human—but swell'd By Envy and Malice and Scorn— Each feeling of Nature rebell'd, And hated the mask it had worn. 49. Though human the fault—how severe, How harsh the stern sentence pronounc'd— Ev'n Pride dropp'd a niggardly tear, My love as it grimly denounc'd! 50. 'Tis past!—the great struggle is o'er! The war of my bosom subsides! And passion's strong current no more Impels its impetuous tides. 51. 'Tis past! my affections give way— The ties of my nature are broke— The summons of Pride I obey, And break Love's degenerate yoke. N 146 FAREWELL TO ENGL A IS J» 52. I fly, like a bird of the air, In search of a home and a rest; A balm for the sickness of Care— A bliss for a bosom unblest. 53. And swift as the swallow that floats— And bold as the eagle that soars— Yet dull as the owlet, whose notes The dark fiend of midnight deplores! 54. Where gleam the gay splendors of east, The dance and the bountiful board, I'll bear me to Luxury's feast, To exile the form I ador'd. 55. In full brimming goblets, I'll quaff The sweets of the Lethean spring, And join in the Bacchanal's laugh— And trip in the fairy-forrn'd ring! FAREWELL TO ENGLAND. 147 56. Where Pleasure invites will 1 roam, To drown the dull memory of Care— An exile from Hope and from Home— A fugitive chas'd by Despair.— 57. Farewell to thee, land of the brave! Farewell to thee, land of my birth! When tempests around thee shall rave, Still—still—may they homage thy worth! 58. Wife—infant—and country—and friend— Ye wizard my fancy no more— I fly from your solace, and wend To weep on some kindlier shore. 50. The grim-visag'd fiend of the storm That raves in this agoniz'd breast— Still raises his pestilent form— Till Death calm the tumult to rest. ODE THE ISLAND OF ST. HELENA. l. Peace to thee, isle of the ocean! Hail to thy breezes and billows! Where, rolling its tides, in perpetual devotion, The white wave its plumy surf pillows! Rich shall the chaplet be history shall weave thee! Whose undying verdure shall bloom on thy brow, When nations that now in obscurity leave thee, To the wand of oblivion alternately bow! Unchang'd in thy-glory—unstain'din thy fame— The homage of ages shall hallow thy name! N 2 150 ODE TO THE 2. Hail to the chief who reposes On thee the rich weight of his glory! When fill'd to its limit, life's chronicle closes, His deeds shall be sacred in story!" His prowess shall rank with the first of all ages, And monarchs hereafter shall bow to his worth— The songs of the poets—the lessons of sages,— Shall hold him the wonder and grace of the earth. The meteors of history before thee shall fall— Eclips'd by thy splendor—thou meteor of Gaul! 3. Hygeian breezes shall fan thee— Island of glory resplendent! Pilgrims from nations far distant shall man thee— Tribes, as thy waves, independent! On thy far gleaming strand the wanderer shall stay him j To snatch a brief glance at a spot so renown'd— Each turf and each stone, and each cliff shall delay him, t Where the step of thy exile hath haliow'd thy grou From him shalt thou borrow a lustre divine— The wane of his sun was the rising of thine! ISLAND OF ST. HELENA. 151 4. Whose were the hands that enslav'd him? Hands which had weakly withstood him— Nations which while they had oftentimes brav'd him, Never till now had subdued him! Monarchs—who oft to his clemency stooping, Receiv'd back their crowns from the plunder of war— The vanquisher vanquish'd—the eagle now drooping— Would quench with their sternness the ray of his star! But cloth'd in new splendor the glory appears— And rules the ascendant—the planet of years. 5. Pure be the health of thy mountains! Rich be the green of thy pastures! Limpid and lasting the streams of thy fountains! Thine annals unstain'd by disasters! Supreme in the ocean a rich altar swelling, Whose shrine shall be hail'd by the prayers of man- kind— Thy rock beach the rage of the tempest repelling— The wide-wasting contest of wave and of wind— Aloft on thy battlements long be unfurl'd The eagle that decks thee—the pride of the world! 152 ODE, &C. 6. Fade shall the lily, now blooming— Where is the hand which can nurse it? Nations who rear'd it shall watch its consuming- Untimely mildews shall curse it. Then shall the violet that blooms in the valhes Impart to the gale its reviving perfume— Then when the spirit of Liberty rallies To chant forth its anthems on Tyranny's tomb, Wide Europe shall fear lest thy star should break forth, Eclipsing the pestilent orbs of the north! TO MY DAUGHTER, ON THE MORNING OF HER BIRTH. l. Hail—to this teeming stage of strife— Hail, lovely miniature of life! Pilgrim of many cares untold! Lamb of the world's extended fold! Fountain of hopes and doubts and fears! Sweet promise of ecstatic years! How could I fainly bend the knee, And turn idolater to thee! 2. 'Tis Nature's worship—felt—confess'd, Far as the life which warms the breast:— The sturdy savage, 'midst his clan, The rudest portraiture of man, 154 TO MY DAUGHTER. In trackless woods and boundless plains, Where everlasting wildness reigns, Owns the still throb—the secret start— The hidden impulse of the heart. 3. Dear babe! ere yet upon thy years The soil of human vice appears— Ere Passion hath disturb'd thy cheek, And prompted what thou dar'st not speak— Ere that pale lip is blanch'd with Care, Or from those eyes shoot fierce Despair, Would I could wake thine untun'd ear, And gust it with a father's pray'r. 4. But little reck'st thou, oh my child! Of travail on Life's thorny wild! Of all the dangers—all the woes Each tottering footstep which inclose— Ah, little reck'st thou of the scene, So darkly wrought, that spreads between The little all we here can find, And the dark mystic sphere behind! TO MY DAUGHTER. 155 5. Little reck'st thou, my earliest born— Of clouds which gather round thy morn— Of arts to lure thy soul astray— Of snares that intersect thy way— Of secret foes—of friends untrue— Of fiends who stab the hearts they woo— Little thou reck'st of this sad store— Would thou might'st never reck them more! 6. But thou wilt burst this transient sleep— And thou wilt wake, my babe, to weep— The tenant of a frail abode, Thy tears must How, as mine have flow'd— Beguil'd by follies, every day, Sorrow must wash the faults away— And thou may'st wake perchance, to prove, The pang of unrequited love. 7. Unconscious babe! though on that brow No half-fledg'd misery nestles now— Scarce round those placid lips a smile Maternal fondness shall beguile, 156 TO MY DAUGHTER. Ere the moist footsteps of a tear Shall plant their dewy traces there. And prematurely pave the way For sorrows of a riper day. 8. Oh! could a father's pray'r repel The eye's sad grief—the bosom's swell! Or could a father hope to bear A darling child's allotted care— Then thou, my babe, should'st slumber still, Exempted from all human ill, A parent's love thy peace should free, And ask its wounds again for thee. 9. Sleep on, my child; the slumber brief Too soon shall melt away to grief— Too soon the dawn of wo shall break, And briny rills bedew that cheek— Too soon 6hall Sadness quench those eyes— That breast be agoniz'd with sighs— And Anguish o'er the beams of noon Lead clouds of Care—ah! much too soon! ■V • TO MT DAUGRTUU 157 10. g Soon wilt thou reck of cares unknown— Of wants and sorrows all thine own— Of many a pang, and many a wo, That thy dear sex alone can know— Of many an ill—untold—unsung— That will not—may not find a tongue— But kept conceal'd, without control, Spread the fell cancers of the soul! 11. Yet be thy lot, my babe, more blest— May Joy still animate thy breast! Still, 'midst thy least propitious days, Shedding its rich inspiring rays! A father's heart shall daily bear Thy name upon its secret pray'r— And as he seeks his last repose, Thine image ease Life's parting throes. 12. Then hail, sweet miniature of life! Hail, to this teeming stage of strife! Pilgrim of many cares untold! Lamb of the world's extended fold! * »• '. • • I& TO MY VAVCWtTWB. Fountain of hope* and doubts and fean! ftweet promise of ecstatic yean! How could 1 fminly bend the knee, And turn idolater to thee! 1 TO THE t LILY OF FRANCE. i. Eu thou scatterest thy leaf to the wind, False emblem of innocence, stay— And yield as thou fad'st, for the use of mankind, The lesson that marks thy decay. t. Thou wert fair as the beam of the morn— And rich as the pride of the mine:— Thy charms are all faded, and hatred and scorn— The curies of Freedom, are thine. 160 TO THE LILT Or FRANCE. 3. gflThou wert gay in the smiles of the world— Thy shadow protection and power- But now thy bright blossom is shrivell'd and curl' The grace of thy country no more. 4. For Corruption hath fed on thy leaf— And Bigotry weakened thy stem— Now those who have fear'd thee, shall smile at t) grief, And those who ador'd thee condemn. 5. The valley that gave thee thy birth Shall weep for the hope of its soil— The legions, that fought for thy beauty and worft Shall hasten to share in thy spoil. 6. As a bye-word, thy blossom shall be A mock and a jest among men— The proverb of slaves, and the sneer of the free, In city, and mountain, and glen. *f1 f 4 ». TO THE LILT OF VEAIICE. ,161 7. Oh! 'twas Tyranny's pestilent gale « That scatter'd thy buds on the ground— £ That threw the blood-stain on thy virgin-white veil*- a And pierc'd thee with many a wound! I 8. Then thy puny leaf shook to the wind— Thy stem gave its strength to the blast,— Thy full bursting blossom its promise resign'd, And fell to the storm as it pass'd. 9. For no patriot vigour was there— No arm to support the weak flow'r, Destruction pursued its dark herald—Despair— And wither'd its grace in an hour. 10. » Yet there were who pretended to grieve— There were who pretended to save— Mere shallow empyrics who came to deceive— m^To revel and sport on its grave— ^T o2 $ • i ltyg TO THE LILT OF FRANCE. 11. %h thou land of the hly, in vain Thou strugglest to raise its pale head! The faded bud never shall blossom again— The violet will bloom in its stead! 12. As tbou scatterest thy leaf to the wind- False emblem of innocence, stay— And yield, as thou fad'st, for the use of mankind, This lesson to mark thy decay! f*1 i I TO MIRA. t: 1 * 4 i. Tnx memory of pleasure how sweetly it beams, When the substance has ceas'd to delight, ^ As the silver of moonlight that pensively' gleams, * • \ And tempers the sadness of night. i Not the slow-footed march, nor the absence of yean, Nor distance, nor revelry sheen, Can root out the form which affection endears, Or the traces of joys which have been. ' 2. No, Mira, I cannot forget if I would, The glance which first taught me to love, The smile that to young hope imparted its food, Nor the tongue which forbad me to rove; Thy features entwin'd round my soul shall remain • Like the ivy and oak in one tether, And the heart-cherish'd image its hold shall retain Till life and it perish together. * TO THE SAME. 1. Could we call back, dear Mint, the hours which are past, And fashion their courses anew, fte sunshine of Love should eternally last, And joy give the seasons their hue. Rich graces should gild the young Spring-time of hfe, Its Summer charm'd essences greet— The dull days of Autumn with rapture be rife, . jj And Winter's black bitterness sweet. ' Like the Lark would we welcome the coming of day, Like Philomel carol to night, Still sportively fond, and unceasingly gay, Till Fate close the book of delight \ - 2- f But since fleeted moments no more will return, l Nor give us Life's morning again, i The wisdom of Love let us practise, and learn To gather its fruits ere they wane. 16$ The dawn of delight, like Aurora's young beam, Shines sweet from a storm-mantled sky,— And of all Nature's flowers, those the loveliest seem, Which can but just blossom and die. Shall we then despair who have Summers in store? Oh no! 'twere a treason to Love— Ere long shall gay Hope speak in ecstacy's lore, And joy in the garlands it wove. ' 4 k.« *m ON A PINE MORNING AFTER A STORM. Published in the Aurora, in 1818. Oh morning of beauty, serene and unclouded, Whose smile gives to Nature its Summer costume; Renews the rich blossoms the tempest had shrouded, And breathes o'er the landscape a generous perfume! How like is thy charm to the magic of Hope, - In the soul where Despair had establish'd its sway, Whose touch gives each faculty vigor to cope With the heart chilling despot of doubt and distaay. How like is thy spell to the fond bosom panting, ** When Love has unbuckled its girdle of sweets, *P And modestly shrinking, yet sportively granting, Affects to disrehskj^he rapture it greets. ^ How like is thy sunshine to Liberty's ray, # * That breaks in the captive's Cimmerian cell, ^ Whose glance breaks the grasp of his fetters away, :*Tlnd scares back the fiend of Oppression to helL 188 A FINE MORNING AFTER A STORM. Oh morning of beauty! o'er forest and fountain, May each blush of day hail thy coming again,— Be food to the valley, and grace to the mountain, And hue to the wild flower that blooms in the glen. ON MY BROTHERS MARRIAGE. 1. Yes, tliere are periods in the flight of years, So sweet that blundering sophistry might deem The joy of Life a treacherous varnish wears, And blooms, to wither, like a mid-day dream:— Months roll away; successive seasons pour Darkness and Day, alternate sun and shower, Moons change; the lc^cr planets of the night L'rge round the skies their corruscles of light; Yet still, uncheck'd, the tides of rapture run. More lovely far, than when they first begun. And as surrounding objects fade away, This bliss of soul inherits no decay. Such be the joy of this delightful hour! A bright exception fromtfic transient train, Which Passion weaves in Folly's motley bower; Leading its dupes to Penitence and Pain. v , 70 «N MT BROTHER'S MARRIAGE. h, as the sand of Being runs uAvaste, Life ebbs fast from visions once embrac'd, till may the memory of this day impart Reflected raptures, glowing round each heart— Oh, may my Brother's lips affection speak, (»jid Pleasure's carmine paint my Sister's cheek, And each sHaceeding year the sum increase days of oP&fort, Constancy and Peace. j 3. j bis the task—prolific in delight— From those dear lids to chase the wing of Care, >> charm with Love the moments in their flight, hAnd half ner Joys, and all her Griefs to bear— -in mazes of melodious measure,— Toitemnt eAh cadence of domestic pleasure; leltforn's light fingers rosy garlands weave, ifem Noon's brow, and grace the crest of eve; __I w1ie% the dream of Life shall reach its close, jid!^eV , The glance of fitful tenderness, that shone ■• ^ From his scathed heart, when Heaven alone loojj^pl * TO R. C MAYWOOD, ESQ. 179 6m vile bombast and sordid fustian free, bst forth in Nature's holiness from thee. ' W'hen dark-eyed Vengeance from a father's grave, ir'd all the feelings of the royal slave, jatsoul could mark thy Zanga unsubdued? bat eye behold, nor kindle as it view'd? lile from the-jvounded breast with venom fill'd, Tfce subtle poison mortally distill'd, 1, through Alonzo's ear, with reckless rage, lr'd the fell draught no med'cine could assuage:— No: actor then—'twas Nature's potent thrall From voice, look, gesture, broke and conquer'd all!— Of rricle and Passion self-slain sacrifice, I Ben haughty Mortimer,* surpris'd by vice, ■unk from hihlself, in dark seclusion pin'd, Bel i net his puaishment in all mankind: ^m?$ thine to explore the hell where Passion's storm Ink lack embryos.rag'd, to grasp and form H^kcn rebel spirit, and with talent's grace To charter'd(»onscience bend a lawless race! i^td when the powerless sluices that restrain T|e bftnst's tumultuous torrents, burst in twain, Ai'i Honour'aeunder'd robe, and mounting Pride The deep defiMng stain no more could hide, * The Iron Chest. 180 TO R. C MAYWOOD, ESQ. Like thine, what counterfeit can e'er impart That last dread image of the severing heart: Or with stern Terror's talisman control The subject sense, and strike the shuddering soul!— In the dark solitudes of caverns drear, Where Madness nurs'd her moody Mountaineer, Portray'd by thee, the fitful misanthrope, Loves scorch'd up branch, a renegade from Hope, A darker shade of melancholy wears, A duskier garb of agonies and cares; And when the dawn of rapture breaks again, Like gleams of sunshine o'er a stormy main, How rich, how bright, thy swift transition throws A scattering radiance o'er retiring woes, And wins each feeling from the grasp of pain, By Nature's strength, to ecstacy again!— Bertram, outlaw'd at once of Heaven and Earth, A graft of misery on a stem of worth— A broken fragment from a rock of might— A soul of glory, sepulchred in night— In love, joy, hope—in sense and spirit riven, Through all the labyrinths of madness driven— Trac'd by thy genius through the maze of crime, Through guilt, unchang'd by travel as by time— Blaz'd with such furious force—such lack of ruth— such wild and withering energy of truth— TO R. C MAYWOOD, ESQ. 181 . That Nature's self admir'd, what Fancy nurs'd, Ind frantic Feeling pitied, while it curs'd!— But nobler far, when stern Penruddock stood, A blighted trunk 'mid beings plenitude, When, all forsaking, as by all forsook, e fled the scorn his pride refus'd to brook, And in the loneliness of Nature strove, To hide the memory of insulted Love;— And when, his vengeful appetite to greet, Fate cast the base insulter at his feet, ' And all the past, a murky, maddening train, Rush'd back, like greedy vampires, o'er the brain, Hate, Pride, Revenge, controll'd the varying hour. And countless hearts paid tribute to thy power! ?*■"' Shall Taste repine, that Nature's hand confin'd j^The body's stature, when it fram'd the mind; L Abridg'd the clay-wrcught casket of its dole, v And merely gave magnificence of soul?— t The Stage would yield rich models for the town; | Gay six feet drawlers; babies overgrown; y Knaves without wit; channels of sound, not sense; In genius Thumbs, and Gogs in impotence! "Perish the thought!" th' indignant Gallery cries:— "Perish the thought!" the critic Pit replies:— r 182 TO R. C. MAYWOOD, ESQ. While from each Box, with wit and judgment crownV*, Enraptur'd Beauty echoes back the sound! What though the potencies of habit bind The chains of Error round the darkling mind— What though stern Prejudice obstructs the way. And dims the dawning of Conviction's day— ft Thy genius shall pursue its steady flight, *V And ride triumphant o'er the mists of night— Misjudging Ignorance and rash Conceit, Shall fall subdued, and grovel at thy feet, And rebel Art exclaim, with abject mien, " I yield, anointed Nature,—thou art queen!" MetLHut wz Aa-Ue- 1211 c-\ '•.'tfSjto'J YmP