Imatges de pÓgina

* No : Heasca's immortal spring Mall yet arrive; "And man's majeltic beauty bloom again, Bright through th' eternal year of Love s triumphant • reign.'

XXVIII. This truih sublime his fimple dire had tanght, In footh, 'twas all the shepherd knew, No subtle or superfluous lore he fought, Nor ever wish'd his Edwin to pursue. • Let man's own sphere, (quoth he) confine his view, • Be man's peculiar work his sole delight.' And much, and oft, he warn dhim, to eschew

Falsehood and guile, and aye maintain the right, By pleasure unfeduced, unawed by lawless might.

XXIX. And, from the prayer of Want, and plaint of Wo, never, never turn away thine ear, • Forlorn in this bleak wilderness below, ' Ab! what were men, mould Heaven refuse to hear! • To others do (the la:v is not severe.)

What to thyself thou wilheit to be done. . Forgive thy foes; and love thy parents dear, . And friends, and native land.; nor those alone ; All human weal and wo learn thou to make thine own.

See in the rear of the warm sunny hower,
The visionary boy from thelter fly!
For now the torin of firmmer rain is o'er,
Ad cool, and freth, and fragrant is the sky.!
And, In! in the dark eait, expanded bigh,
The rainbow brightens to the setting fun;
Ford fool, that deem'it the dreaming glory nigh,

How vain the chace thine ardour has begun!
'Tis fled afar, ere half thy purposed race be run.

XXXT. Yet could it thou learn, that thus it fares with age, When pleasure, wealth, or power, the bosoin warm,

This bamed hope might tame thy manhood's rage,
And disappointinent of her fting difarm.-
But why should foresight thy fond heart alarm ?
Perish the lore that dradens


defire! Pursue, poor imp, th’imaginary charm,

Indulge gay Hope, and Fancy's pleasing fire : Fancy and Hope too soon shall of themselves expire.

XXXII. When the long founding curfew from afar Loaded with loud lament the lonely gale, Young Edwin lighted by the evening star, Lingering and listening, wander'd down the vale. There would he dream of


and coarses pale ; And ghofts, that to the charnel-dungeon throng, And drag a length of clanking chain, and wail,

Till filenced by the owl's terrific song, Or blaft that shrieks by fits the shuddering ifles along.

Or, when the setting moon, in crimfon dyed,
Hung o'er the dark and melancholy deep,
To haunted stream, remote from man he hied,
Where Fays of yore their revels wont to keep;
And there let Fancy roam at large, till sleep
A vision brought to his intranced fight.
And first, a wildly murmuring wind gan creep

Shrill 10 his ringing ear; then tapers bright,
With inflantaneous gleam, illumed the vault of Night.

XXXIV. Anon in view a portal's blazon'd arch Arose, the trumpet lids the valves unfold : And forth an host of little warriors march, Grasping the diamon'd lance, and targe of gold. Their look was gentle, their demeanour bold, And green their helms, and green their folk attire : And here and there, right venerably old,

The long-robed minstrels wake the warbling wire. And some with mellow breath the martial pipe inspire.

With merriment, and fong, and timbrels clear,
A troop of dames from myrtle bowers advance ;
The little warrior's dwff the targe and spear,
And loud enlivening trains provoke the dance.
They meet, they dart away, they wheel' alkance ;
To right, to left, they thrid the fying maze ;
Now bound aloft with vigorous spring, then glance
Rapid along: with many colour'd rays
Of tapers, gems, and gold, the echoing forests blaze.

The dream is fled. Proud harbinger of day,
Who scar'dit the vision with thy clarion shrill,
Fell chanticleer: who oft has reft away
My fancied good, and brought fubftantial ill!
O to thy cursed scream, difcordant ftill,
Let Harmony aye shut her gentle ear:
Thy boaftful mirth let jealous rivals spill,
Insult thy crelt, and glossy pinions tear,
And ever in thy dreams the ruthless fox appear.


, my Muse. Let Love attune thy line.
Revoke the spell. Thine Edwin frets not so,
Tor how sivould he at wicked chance repine,
Who feels from

every change amusement flow?

with finiles of rapture glow,
As on he wanders through the scene of morn,
Where the fresh Aowers in living luftre blow,
Where thousand pearls the dewy la:vns adorn,
A thousand notes of joy in every breeze are born.

But who the melodies of mor: can tell ?"
The wild brook babbling down the mountain fide ;
The lowing herd; the feepfold's fimple bell ;
The pipe of early shepherd din defcried
In the lone valley; echoing far and wide
The clamorous horn along the cliffs above's



The hollow murmur of the occan-tile ;

The hum of bres, and linnet's lay of love, And the full choir that wakes the universal



XXXIX. The cottage curs at early pilgrim bark ; Crownd with her pail the tripping milkmaid fings ; The whiftling plowman italks afield; and, hark! Down the rough flope the ponderous waggon rings ; Through ruilling corn the bare astonish d fprings; Slow iölls the village-clock the drowsy l:our ; The patridge burits away on whirring wings;

Deep mourns the turile in sequeller'd bower, And Grill lark carols cl:ar from her acuial tɔur.

O Nature, low in every charm fupreme !
Whofe votaries fealt on rapiures ever new!
O for the voice and fire of scraplin,
To sing thy glories with devotion due !
Bleft be the day I 'scaped the wrangling crew,
From Pyrrho's maze, and Epicurus'lly;
And held high converse with the goulike few,
Whu to th’enraptur'd heart, and


and eye, Teach beauty, virtue, truth, and love, and melody.

XLI. Hence! ye, who share and supify the mind, Sophills, of beauty, virtue, joy, the bane ! Greedy and full, though inpotcut and blind, Win piead your filthy licis in Truth's fair fane, And ever ply your venoin'd fangs amain! Hence to dark Error's den, whose rankling nime Firit gave you forin! beace! leli the Muse should deign

(Though luath on theme fu mean to wale a ryhme), With vengeance to pursue your facrilegious crime.


But hail, ye mighty minders of the lay,
Nature's true fons, the friends of man and truth !

[ocr errors]

Whose song, sublimely sweet, serenely gay,
Amused my childhood, and inform'd my youth.
O let your spirit ftill my bosom footh,
Inspire my dreams, and my wild wanderings guide!
Your voice each rugged path of life can smooth;

For well I know, where-ever ye refide,
There harmony, and peace, and innocence, abide.

Ah me! abandon'd on the lonesome plain,
As yet poor Edwin never knew your lore,
Save when against the winter's drenching rain,
And driving foow, the cottage shut the door.
Then, as initructed by tradition hoar,
Her legends when the Beldam 'gan impart,
Or chant the old heroic ditty o'er,
Wonder and joy ran thrilling to his heart ;
Much he the tale admir'd, but more the tuneful art.

Various and strange was the long-winded tale ;
And halls, and knights, and feats of arms display'd;
Or merry swains, who quaff the nut-brown ale,
And sing, enamourd of the nut-brown maid ;
The moonlight revel of the fairy glade ;
Or hags, that fuckle an infernal brood,
And ply in caves th' unutterable trade*,
Midit fiends and spectres, quench the moon in blood,
Yell in the midnight storin, or ride th' infuriate flood.

But when to horror his amazement rose,
A gentler ftrain the Beldam would rehearse,

* Allusion to SHAKESPEAR. Macbeth. How now, ye fecret, black, and midnight hags,

What is't you do?
Witches. A deed without a Name.



« AnteriorContinua »