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And make their grand saloons a general And though I hope not hence unscathed to go, mart

Who conquers me shall find a stubborn foe. For all the mutilated blocks of art: The time hath been, when no harsh sound Of Dardan tours let dilettanti tell,

would fall I leave topography to classic GELL; From lips that now may seem imbued with And quite content, no more shall interpose

gall, To stan mankind with poesy or prose.

Nor fools nor follies tempt me to despise
The meanest thing that crawl'd beneath

my eyes: Thus far I've held my undisturb'd career, But now, so callous grown, so changed Prepared for rancour, steeld 'gainst selfish

since youth, fear :

I've learned to think and sternly speak the This thing of rhyme I ne'er disdaind to

truth;

Learn'd to deride the critic's starch decree, Though not obtrusive, yet not quite un- And break him on the wheel he meant for me; known:

To spurn the rod a scribbler bids me kiss, My voice was heard again, though not so Nor care if courts and crowds applaud or

hiss : My page, though nameless, never disavowd; Nay, more, though all my rival rhymesters And now at once I tear the veil away:

frown, Cheer on the pack! the quarry stands at bay, I too can hunt a poetaster down ; Unscared by all the din of MELBOURNB-house, And, arm'd in proof, the gauntlet cast at once By LAMB's resentment, or by HOLLAND's To Scotch marauder, and to Southern dunce. spouse,

Thus much I've dared to do; how far my lay By JEFFREY’s harınless pistol, Hallam's rage, Hath wrong'd these righteous times, let EDINA's brawny sons and brimstone page. Our men in buckram shall have blows This let the world, which knows not how enough,

to spare, And feel they too are “penetrable stuff: ” Yet rarely blames unjustly, now declare.

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others say;

THE CURSE OF MINERVA.

Pallas te hac valnere, Pallas
Immolat, et penam scelerato ex sanguine sumit.

be run,

Slow sinks, more lovely ere his race | Mark his gay course and own the hues of

heaven; Along Morea's hills the setting sun: Till, darkly shaded from the land and deep, Not, as in northern climes, obscurely bright, Behind his Delphian cliff he sinks to sleep. But one unclouded blaze of living light! O'er the hush'd deep the yellow beam he

throwe,

On such an eve, his palest beam he cast, Gilds the green wave, that trembles as it When, Athens ! here thy wisest look d bis glows:

last: On old Egina's rock, and Idra's isle, How watch'd thy better sons his farewell ray, The god of gladness sheds his parting smile; That closed their murder'd sage's latest day! O'er his own regions lingering loves to shine, Not yet-not yet-Sol pauses on the hillThough there his altars are no more divine. The precious hour of parting lingers still: Descending fast the mountain-shadows kiss But sad his light to agonizing eyes, Thy glorious gulph, unconquer'd Salamis! And dark the mountain's once delightful Their azure arches through the long expanse,

dyes; More deeply purpled, meet his mellowing Gloom o'er the lovely land he seem'd to pour,

glance,

The land where Phæbus never frown'd And tonderest tints, along their summits

before; driven,

But ere he sunk below Cithæron's head.

less by.

The cap of woe was quaffd-the spirit fled; | Not such as erst, by her divine command, The soul of him that scorn'd to fear or fly- Her form appear'd' from Phidias' plastic Who lived and died as none can live or die!

hand; Gone were the terrors of her awful brow,

Her idle Ægis bore no Gorgon now; But, lo! from high Hymettus to the plain, Her helm was deep indented, and her lance The queen of night asserts her silent reign; Seem'd weak and shaftless, e’en to mortal lo murky vapour, herald of the storm,

glance; Hides her fair face, nor girds her glowing The olive-branch, which still she deign'd form:

to clasp, With cornice glimmering as the moonbeams Shrunk from her touch and wither'd in her play,

grasp: There the white column greets her grateful And,ah! though still the brightest of the sky,

ray,

Celestial tears bedimm'd her large blue eye; And bright around, with quivering beams Round the rent casque her owlet circled beset,

slow, Her emblem sparkles o'er the minaret: And mourn'd his mistress with a shriek The groves of olive scatter'd dark and wide

of woe. Where meek Cephisus sheds his scanty tide, "Mortal! ('twas thus she spake) that blush The cypress saddening by the sacred mosque,

of shame The gleaming turret of the gay Kiosk, Proclaims thee Briton-once a noble nameAnd, dun and sombre mid the holy calm, First of the mighty, foremost of the free, Near Theseus' fane, yon solitary palm, Now honour'd less by all-and least by me: All tinged with varied hues, arrest the eye-- Chief of thy foes shall Pallas still be found:And dull were his that pass'd them heed-Seekst thou the cause? 0 mortal, look

around! Lo! here, despite of war and wasting fire,

I saw successive tyrannies expire; Again the Ægean, heard no more afar, 'Scaped from the ravage of the Turk and Lalls his chafed breast from elemental war;

Goth,
Again his waves in milder tints unfold Thy country sends a spoiler worse than both!
Their long array of sapphire and of gold, Survey this vacant violated fane;
Mix'd with the shades of many a distant isle, Recount the relics torn that yet remain;
That frown- where gentler ocean seems to These Cecrops placed_this Pericles adorn'd-

smile.
That Hadrian rear'd when drooping science

mourn'd:

What more I owe let gratitude attestHans within the walls of Pallas' fane Know, Alaric and Elgin did the rest. d the beauties of the land and main, That all may learn from whence the plunand friendless, on the magic shore

derer came, arts and arms but live in poet's lore, Th' insulted wall sustains his hated name. * the matchless dome I turn'd to scan, For Elgin's fame thus grateful Pallas pleads: werell to gods, but not secure from man, Below, his name-above, behold his deeds! The past return'd, the present seem'd to Be ever hail'd with equal honour here Past cease,

The Gothic monarch and the Pictish peer. AndGlory knew no clime beyond her Greece. Arms gave the first his right-the last had Hours roll'd along, and Dian's orb on high

none, Had gain'd the centre of her softest sky, But basely stole what less barbarians won ! And yet unwearied still my footsteps trod So when the lion quits his fell repast, O'er the vain shrine of many a vanish'd god; Next prowls the wolf, the filthy jackal last : But chiefly, Pallas! thine, when Hecate's Flesh, limbs, and blood, the former make glare,

their own; Check'd by thy columns, fell more sadly fair The last base brute securely gnaws the bone. O'er the chilí marble, where the startling Yet still the gods are just, and crimes are tread

crostThrills the lone heart like echoes from See here what Elgin won, and what he lost!

the dead.

Another name with his pollutes my shrine, Long had I mused, and measured every trace Behold where Dian's beams disdain to shine! The wreck of Greece recorded of her race, Some retribution still might Pallas claim, When, lo! a giant-form before me strode, When Venus half avenged Minerva's shame.” And Pallas hail'd me in her own abode. Yes, 'twas Minerva's self, but, ah! how

changed

She ceased awhile, and thus I dared reply. Since o'er the Dardan field in arms she To soothe the vengeance kindling in her ranged!

oye:

“Daughter of Jove! in Britain's injured name, Europe's worst dauber and poor Britain's best, A true-born Briton may the deed disclaim! With palsied hand shall turn each model o'er, Frown not on England–England owns him And own himself an infant of fourscore:

not

Be all the bruisers call'd from all St. Giles, Athene, no ! the plunderer was a Scot! That art and nature may compare their Ask'st thou the difference? From fair Phyle's

styles; towers

While brawny brutes in stupid wonder stare, Survey Bæotia- Caledonia 's ours; And marvel at his lordship's stone-shop there And well I know within that bastard-land Round the throng'd gate shall sanntering Hath wisdom's goddess never held command:

coxcombs creep, A barren soil, where nature's germs,confined, To lounge and lucubrate, to prate and peep: To stern sterility can stint the mind; While many a languid maid, with longing Whose thistle well betrays the niggard

sigh, earth,

On giant-statues casts the curious eye ; Emblem of all to whom the land gives birth. The room with transient glance appears Each genial influence nurtured to resist,

to skim, A land of meanness, sophistry, and mist: Yet marks the mighty back and length of Each breeze from foggy mount and marshy

limb; plain

Mourns o'er the difference of now and then; Dilutes with drivel every drizzling brain, Exclaims, "these Greeks indeed were proTill burst at length each watery head o'er

per men;" flows,

Draws slight comparisons of these with Foul as their soil, and frigid as their snows:

those, Ten thousand schemes of petulance and pride And envies Lais all her Attic beaux: Despatch her scheming children far and wide; When shall a modern maid have gwains Some east, some west, some-every where

like these? but north, Alas! Sir Harry is no Hercules! In quest of lawless gain they issue forth; And last of all, amidst the gaping crew, And thus, accursed be the day and year, Some calm spectator, as he takes his view, She sent a Pict to play the felon here. In silent indignation, mix'd with grief. Yet, Caledonia claims some native worth, Admires the plunder, but abhors the thiel As dull Baotia gave a Pindar birth- Loathed throughout life-scarce pardon't So may her few, the letter'd and the brave,

in the dust, Bound to no clime, and victors o'er the grave, May hate pursue his sacrilegious lust! Shake off the sordid dust of such a land, Link'd with the fool who fired th' Ephesian And shine like children of a happier strand :

dome, As once of yore, in some obnoxious place, Shall vengeance follow far beyond the tood; Ten names (if found) had saved a wretched Erostratus and Elgin e'er shall shine

race!"

In many a branding page and burning line!!
Alike condemn'd for aye to stand accuraed-

Perchance the second viler than the first: “Mortal,” the blue-eyed maid resamed, So let him stand through ages yet unbora

, “once more,

Fix'd statue on the pedestal of scorn! Bcar back my mandate to thy native shore; Though not for him alone revenge shall Though fallen, alas! this vengeance still

wait, is mine,

But fits thy country for her coming fate: To turn my counsels far from lands like Hers were the deeds that taught her lavthine.

less son Hear then in silence Pallas' stern behest; To do what oft Britannia's self had done. Hear and believe, for time shall tell the rest. Look to the Baltic blazing from afar First on the head of him who did the deed Your old ally yet mourns persidious war My curse shall light,-on him and all his Not to such deeds did Pallas lend her aid,

seed :

Or break the compact which herself had Without one spark of intellectual fire,

made; Be all the sons as senseless as the sire: Far from such councils, from the faithles If one with wit the parent brood disgrace,

field Believe him bastard of a brighter race; She fled - but left behind her Gorgon-shield; Still with his hireling artists let him prate, A fatal gift, that turn'd your friends to stone. And folly's praise repay for wisdom's hate! And left lost Albion hated and alone. Long of their patron's gusto let them tell, Look to the east, where Ganges'swarthy race Whose noblest native gusto—is to sell : Shall shake your usurpation to its base; To sell, and make (may shame record the Lo! there rebellion rears her ghastly head.

day!)

And glares tho Nemesis of native dead, The state receiver of his pilfer'd prey ! Till Indus rolls a deep purpurcal flood, Meantime, the flattering foeble dotard, West, I And claims his long arrcar of northern blood

So may ye perish! Pallas, when she gave | Then in the senate of your sinking state, Your free-born rights, forbade ye to enslave. Show me the man whose counsels may have Look on your Spain, she clasps the hand

weight. she hates, Vain is each voice whose tones could once But coldly elasps, and thrusts you from

command; her gates.

E'en factions cease to charm a factious land; Rear witness bright Barrossa, thou canst tell While jarring sects convulse a sister-isle, Whose were the sons that bravely fought And light with maddening hands the muand fell.

tual pile. While Lusitania, kind and dear ally, Can spare a few to fight and sometimes fly. Oh glorious field! by famine fiercely won; « 'Tis done, 'tis past, since Pallas warns The Gaul retires for once, and all is done!

in vain, But when did Pallas teach that one retreat The Furies seize her abdicated reign ; Retrieved three long olympiads of defeat ? Wide o'er the realın they wave their kindLook last at home-ye love not to look there,

ling brands, On the grim smile of comfortless despair; And wring her vitals with their fiery hands. Your city saddens, loud though revel howls, But one convulsive struggle still remains, Here famine faints, and yonder rapine And Gaul shall weep ere Albion wear her prowls :

chains. See all alike of more or less bereft - The bannerd pomp of war, the glittering So misers tremble when there's nothing left.

files, "Blest paper credit” who shall dare to sing? O’er whose gay trappings stern Bellona It clogs like lead corruption's weary wing:

smiles ; Yet Pallas pluck'd each Premier by the ear, The brazen trump, the spirit-stirring drum, Who gods and men alike disdain': to hear; That bid the foe defiance ere they come; But one, repentant o'er a bankrupt state, The hero, bounding at his country's call, On Pallas calls, but calls, alas! too late; The glorious death that decorates his fall, Then raves for *** ; to that Mentor bends, Swell the young heart with visionary Though he and Pallas never yet were

charms, friends:

And bid it antedate the joys of arms. Him senates hear whom never yet they But know, a lesson you may yet be taught

heard,

With death alone are laurels cheaply bought: Contemptuons once, and now no less absurd: Not in the conflict havoc seeks delight, So once of yore each reasonable frog His day of mercy is the day of fight; Swore faith and fealty to his sovereign log; But when the field is fought, the battle won, Thus hail'd your rulers their patrician clod, Though drench'd with gore, his woes are As Egypt chose an onion for a god.

but begun. His deeper deeds ye yet know but by name,

The slaughter'd peasant and the ravish'd Now fare ye well, enjoy your little hour;

dame, Go, grasp the shadow of your vanish'd The rifled mansion and the fue-reap'd field,

power;

Il suit with souls at home untaught to Gloss o'er the failure of each fondest scheme,

yield. Tour strength a name, your bloated wealth Say with what eye, along the distant down,

a dream.

Would flying burghers mark the blazing Gone is that gold, the marvel of mankind,

town? And pirates barter all that's left behind, How view the column of ascending flames No more the hirelings, purchased near Shake his red shadow o'er the startled and far,

Thames? Crowd to the ranks of mercenary war; Nay, frown not, Albion! for the torch was The idle merchant on the useless quay

thine Droops o’er the bales no bark may bear That lit such pyres from Tagus to the Rhine:

away,

Now should they burst on thy devoted coast, Or, back returning, sees rejected stores Go, ask thy bosom, who deserves them Rot piecemeal on his own encumber'd shores;

most? The starved mechanic breaks his rusting The law of heaven and earth is life for life;

loom,

And she who raised in vain regrets the And desperate mans him 'gainst the common

strife. doom.

London, 1812.

THE AGE OF BRONZE;

OR,

CARMEN SECULARE ET ANNUS HAUD MIRABILIS.

“Impar Congressus Achilli."

his car;

The “good old times "—all times, when He "wept for worlds to conquer !" he old, are good,

who ne'er Are gone; the present might be, if they conceived the globe he panted not to spare!

would ;

With even the busy Northern Isle unknown, Great things have been, and are, and great- Which holds his urn, and never knew his er still

throne. Want little of mere mortals but their will: A wider space, a greener field is given To those who play their “tricks before high But where is he, the modern, mightier far,

Heaven."

Who, born no king, made monarchs dry
I know not if the angels weep, but men
Have wept enough-for what ?-to weep The new Sesostris, whose unharness'd king

again.
Free'd from the bit, believe themselves

with wings,

And spurn the dust o'er which they crawli All is cxploded-be it good or bad.

of late, Rcader! remember when thou wert a lad, Chain'd to the chariot of the chieftain's Then Pitt was all; or, if not all, so much,

state ? His very rival almost deem'd him such. Yes! where is he, the Champion and the We, we have seen the intellectual race

Child Of giants stand, like Titans, face to face-Of all that's great or little, wise or wild! Athos and Ida, with a dashing sea Whose game was empires and whose stakes Of eloquence between, which flow'd all free,

were thrones ? As the deep billows of the Ægean roar Whose table, earth_whose dice were huna Betwixt the Hellenic and thePhrygian shore.

bones? But where are they– the rivals?-a few feet Behold the grand result in yon lore isle Of sullen earth divide each winding-sheet. And, as thy nature urges, weep or smile. How peaceful and how powerful is the grave Sigh to behold the eagle's lofty rage Which hushes all! a calm, unstormy wave Reduced to nibble at his narrow cage; Which oversweeps the world. The theme Smile to survey the Queller of the Nations

is old

Now daily squabbling o'er disputed rations; Of “dust to dust;" but half its tale untold. Weep to perceive him mourning, as he dines, Time tempers not its terrors - still the worm O'er curtail'd dishes and o'er stinted wines; Winds its cold folds, the tomb preserves O'er petty quarrels upon petty things

its form

Is this the man who scourged or feasted Varied above, but still alike below;

kings? The urn may shine, the ashes will not glow. Behold the scales in which his fortes Though Cleopatra's mummy cross the sea,

hangs, O'er which from empire she lured Anthony; A surgeon's statement and an earls haThough Alexander's urn a show be grown

rangues! On shores he wept to conquer, though A bust delay'd, a book refused, can shake

unknown

The sleep of him who kept the world avale. How vain, how worse than vain at length Is this indeed the Tamer of the Great,

appear

Now slave of all could teaze or irritateThe madman's wish, the Macedonian's tear! The paltry jailor and the prying spy. He wept for worlds to conquer-half the The staring stranger with his note-book carth

nigh? Knows not his name, or but his death and Plunged in a dungeon, he had still been birth

great; And desolation; while his native Greece How low, how little was this middle state, Hath all of desolation, save its peace. | Between a prison and a palace, where

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