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insinuated itself into my Religious Musings with such And when thou lovest thy pale orb to shroud intricacy of union, that sometimes I have omitted to dis Behind the gathered blackness lost on bigh; entangle the weed from the fear of snapping the flower. And when thou dartest from the wind-rent cloud A third and heavier accusation has been brought against Thy placid lightning o'er the awaken'd sky. me, that of obscurity; but not, I think, with equal jus Ah such is flope! as changeful and as fair! lice. An Author is obscure, when his conceptions are Now dimly peering on the wistful sight; dim and imperfect, and his language incorrect, or unap
Now hid behind the dragon-wing'd Despair : propriate, or involved. A poem that abounds in allu But soon emerging in her radiant might, sions, like the Bard of Gray, or one that impersonates She o'er the sorrow-clouded breast of Care high and abstract truths, like Collins's Ode on the pocti Sails, like a meteor kindling in its flight. cal character, claims not to be popular- but should be acquitted of obscurity. The deficiency is in the Reader. But this is a charge which every poet, whose imagina
TIME, REAL AND IMAGINARY. lion is warm and rapid, must expect from his contemporaries. Milton did not escape it; and it was adduced with virulence against Gray and Collins. We now hear
On the wide level of a mountain's head no more of it: not that their poems are better under
(I knew not where, but 't was some faery place) stood at present, than they were at their first publication;
Their pinions, ostrich-like, for sails outspread, but their fame is established ; and a critic would accuse
Two lovely children run an endless race, himself of frigidity or inattention, who should profess
A sister and a brother! not to understand them. But a living writer is yet sub
This far outstripe the other; judice; and if we cannot follow his conceptions or enter
Yet ever runs she with reverted face, into his feelings, it is more consoling to our pride to
And looks and listens for the boy behind: consider him as lost beneath, than as soaring above us.
For he, alas! is blind! If any man expect from my pocms the same easiness of o'er rough and smoothi with even step he pass'd, style which he admires in a drinking-song, for him I have
And knows not whether he be first or last. not wrillen. Intelligibilia, non intellectum adfero.
I expect neither profit or general fame by my writings; and I consider myself as having been amply repaid without cither. Poetry has been to me its own MONODY ON THE DEATH OF CHATTERTON. exceeding great reward :» it has soothed my afflictions; o what a wonder seems the fear of death, it has multiplied and refined my enjoyments; it has endeared solitude: and it has given me ihe habit of wish- Seeing how gladly we all sink to sleep, ing to discover the Good and the Beautiful in all that Babes, Children, Youths and Men,
Nighit following night for threescore years and ten! meets and surrounds me.
But doubly strange, where life is but a breath
To sigh and pant with, up Want's rugged steep.
Away, Grim Phantom! Scorpion King, away!
Maid of my Love, sweet Genevieve!
's light you glide along:
is like the star of eve,
Thee, Chatterton! these unblest stones protect
TO THE AUTUMNAL MOON.
Yet oft, perforce ('t is suffering Nature's call),
Thy corse of livid hue;
Mild Splendour of the various-vested Night!
Is this the land of song-ennobled line?
And thou hadst dash'd it, at her soft command, Is this the land, where Genius ne'er in vain
But that Despair and Indignation rose, • Pour'd forth his lofty strain?
And told again the story of thy woes; Ah me! yet Spenser, gentlest bard divine,
Told the keen insult of the upfeeling heart; Beneath chill Disappointment's shade
The dread dependence on the low-born mind; His weary limbs in lonely anguish laid.
Told every pang
with which thy soul must smart, And o'er her darling dead
Neglect, and grinning Scorn, and Want combined ! Pity hopeless hung her head,
Recoiling quick, thou bad'st the friend of pain While « mid the pelting of that merciless storm,» Roll the black tide of Death through every freezing vein! Sunk to the cold earth Oiway's famish'd form!
Ye woods! that wave o'er Avon's rocky steep, Sublime of thought, and confident of fame,
To Fancy's car sweet is your murmuring deep!
Light-hearted youth! aye, as he hastes along, Watching, with wistful eye, the saddening tints of eve.
Here, far from men, amid this pathless grove,
In solemn thought the Minstrel wont to rove,
Like star-beam on the slow sequester'd tide
Lone-glittering, through the high tree branching wide. Exulting in the spirils' genial throc
And here, in Inspiration's eager hour, In tides of power his life-blood seems to flow.
When most the big soul feels the mastering power,
These wilds, these caverns roaming o'er, And now his chceks with deeper ardors flame,
Round which the screaming sea-gulls soar, His eyes have glorious meanings, that declare
With wild unequal steps he pass'd along, More than the light of outward day shines there,
Oft pouring on the winds a broken song: A holier triumph and a sterner aim!
Anon, upon some rough rock's fearful brow Wings grow within him; and he soars above
Would pause abrupt-and gaze upon the waves below. Or Bard's, or Minstrel's lay of war or love. Friend to the friendless, to the Sufferer health,
Poor Chatterton! he sorrows for thy fate He hears the widow's prayer, the good man's praise; Who would have praised and loved thee, ere too late. To scenes of bliss transmutes his fancied wealth,
Poor Chatterton! farewell! of darkest hues And young and old shall now see happy days.
This chaplet cast I on thy unshaped tomb; On many a waste he bids trim gardens rise,
But dare no longer on the sad theme muse, Gives the blue sky to many a prisoner's eyes;
Lest kindred woes persuade a kindred doom: And now in wrath he grasps the patriot steel,
For oh! big gall-drops, shook from Folly's wing, And her own iron rod he makes Oppression feel. Hlave blackend the fair promise of my spring ; Sweet Flower of Hope! free Nature's genial child !
And the stern Fate transpierced with viewless dart That didst so fair disclose thy early bloom,
The last pale Hope that shiver'd at my heart!
Hence, gloomy thoughts ! no more my soul shall dwell
On joys that were! No more endure to weigh
Sublime of Hope I scek the cottaged dell,
And, dancing to the moon-light roundelay,
The wizard Passions weave a holy spell!
O Chatterton! that thou wert yet alive!
Sure thou wouldst spread the canvas to the gale,
And love, with us the tinkling team to drive
O'er peaceful Freedom's undivided dale;
And we, at sober eve, would round thee throng, Already to thy lips was raised the bowl,
Hanging, enraptured, on thy stately song! When near thee stood Affection meek
And greet with smiles the young-eyed Poesy (ller bosom bare, and wildly pale her cheek),
All deftly mask'd, as hoar Antiquity.
Alas vain Phantasies! the fleeting brood
Of Woe self-solaced in her dreamy mood !
Yet will I love to follow the sweet dream, Peace smiling sate, and listen'd to thy lay;
Where Susquehannah pours his unlamed stream; Thy Sister's shrieks she bade thee hear, And mark thy Mother's thrilling tear;
And on some hill, whose forest-frowning side
Waves o'er the murmurs of his calmer tide,
Will raise a solemn Cenotaph to thee,
Sweet Harper of time-shrouded Minstrelsy!
And there, soothed sadly by the dirgeful wind, Avon, a river near Bristol ; the birth-place of Chatterton, Muse on the sore ills I had left bebind.
O'er his hush'd soul our soothing witcheries shed, And (wine our faery garlands round his head.
SONGS OF THE PIXIES.
The Pixies, in tbe superstition of Devonsbire, are a race of beings invisibly small, and harmless or friendly to man. At a small distance from a village in that conniy, bali way up a wood-covered hill, is an excavation called the Pixies' Parlour. The roots of old trees form its ceiling; and on its sides are innumerable cypliers, among which the author discovered his own cypher and those of his brothers, cut by the hand of their childhood. At the foot of the bill flows the river Ouer.
To this place the Author conducted a party of young Ladies, daring the Summer months of tbe year 1793; one of whom, of stature elegantly small, and of complexion colourless yet clear, was proclaimed the Faory Queen. On which occasion the following Irregular Ode was written.
Crown'd with her dewy star,
On leaves of aspen trees
We tremble to the breeze,
Or, haply, at the visionary hour,
Or guide of soul-subduing power
I. Whom the untaught Shepherds call
Pixies in their madrigal, Fancy's children, here we dwell:
Welcome, Ladies! to our cell. Here the wren of softest note
Builds its nest and warbles well; Here the black bird strains his throat ;
Welcome, Ladies ! to our cell.
JI. When fades the moon all shadowy-pale And scuds the cloud before the gale, Ere Morn with living gems bedighe Purples the East with streaky light, We sip the furze-tlower’s fragrant dews, Clad in robes of rainbow hues: Or sport amid the rosy gleam Soothed by the distant-linkling team, While lusty Labour scouting sorrow Bids the Dame a glad good-morrow, Who jogs the accustom'd road along, And
paces cheery to her cheering song.
Supine le slumbers on a violet bank;
Aye from the sultry heat
We to the cave retreat O'ercanopied by huge roots intertwined With wildest texture, blacken'd o'er with age: Round them their manile green the ivies bind,
Beneath whose foliage pale,
Fann'd by the unfrequent gale, We shield us from the Tyrant's mid-day rage.
Eve saddens into Night,
The sombre hours, that round thee stand
With down-cast eyes (a duteous band)! Their dark robes dripping with the heavy dew.
Sorceress of the ebon throne !
Heaven's lucent roses glow,
Wooes the Queen of Solemn Thought, And heaves the gentle misery of a sigh,
Gazing with tearful eye,
To pensive Memory dear!
We glance before his view:
Where the blameless Pixies dwell:
With what obeisance meet
Thy presence shall we greet?
Graceful Ease in artless stole,
With Honour's softer mien;
As snow-drop wet with dew.
A FAREWELL ODE ON QUITTING SCHOOL FOR JESUS Yet cre again along the empurpling vale,
Cam rolls his reverend stream along,
I haste to urge the learnad toil
That sternly chides my love-lorn song:
When Peace, and Cheerfulness, and Health
Enrich'd me with the best of wealth.
Ah fair delights! that o'er my soul
On Memory's wing, like shadows fly!
Ah Flowers! which Joy from Eden stole There was, of swine, a huge company,
While Innocence stood smiling by!That grunted as they crunchid the mast:
But cease, fond beart! this bootless moan : For that was ripe, and fell full fast.
Those hours on rapid pinions flown Then they trotted away, for the wind grew high:
Shall yet return, hy Absence crown'd,
And scatter livelier roses round.
On hecdless eyes may pour the day:
The Moon, that oft from heaven retires, He pick'd up the acorn and buried it straight
Endcars her renovated ray.
What though she leaves the sky unblest
To mourn awhile in murky vest?
When she relumes her lovely light,
We bless the wanderer of the night.
LINES ON AN AUTUMNAL EVENING.
O TROU, wild Fancy, check thy wing! No more At length he came back, and with him a Slie,
Those thin white flakes, those purple clouds explore! And the acorn was grown to a tall oak tree.
Nor there with happy spirits speed thy flight They built them a nest in the topmost bough,
Bathed in rich amber-glowing floods of light; And young ones they had, and were happy enow. Nor in yon gleam, where slow descends the day, But soon came a woodman in leathern guise,
With western peasants hail the morning ray!
O'er Disappointment's wintry desert fling
She leapt, awaken'd by the pattering shower.
Now sheds the sinking Sun a deeper gleam, The boughs from the trunk the woodman did sever; Aid, lovely Sorceress! aid thy poet's dream! And they tloated it down on the course of the river. With faery wand O bid the Maid arise, They saw'd it in planks, and its bark they did strip, Chaste Joyance dancing in her bright-blue eyes; And with this tree and others they made a good ship. As erst when from the Muses' calm abode The ship it was launchid; but in sight of the land I came, with Learning's meed not unbestow'd; Such a storm there did rise as no ship could withstand. When as she twined a Jaurel round my brow, It bulged on a rock, and the waves ruslid in fast: And met my kiss, and half return'd my vow, The old Raven flew round and round, and caw'd to the O'er all my frame shot rapid my thrill'd heart, blast.
And every nerve confess'd th' electric dart.
He heard the last shriek of the perishing souls
Right glad was the Raven, and off he went fleet,
They had taken his all, and Revenge was sweet!
O dear deceit! I see the Maiden rise,
Amid the paly radiance soft and sad,
And Memory, with a Vestal's chaste employ,
Spirits of Love! ye heard her name! obey
Spirits! to you the infant Maid was given,
As late each flower that sweetest blows
Around his brows a beamy wreath
I softly seized the unguarded Power,
( (have I sigh’d) were mine the wizard's rod,
my Love from noontide's sultry beam:
But when unweeting of the guile
Ah! soon the soul-entrancing sight
• And 0!, he cried —« Of magic kind
As when the Savage, who his drowsy frame
ONE kiss, dear Maid! I said and sigh'd-
Dear native brook! like Peace, so placidly
Yon viewless Wanderer of the vale,