The sure associate, ere with trembling speed He found its path, and fix'd unerring there. Such is the secret union, when we feel
A song, a flower, a name at once restore
Those long-connected scenes where first they mov'd The attention: backward through her mazy walks Guiding the wanton fancy to her scope,
To temples, courts, or fields; with all the band Of painted forms, of passions and designs Attendant: whence, if pleasing in itself, The prospect from that sweet accession gains Redoubled influence o'er the listening mind. By these mysterious ties, the busy power Of memory her ideal train preserves Intire; or when they would elude her watch, Reclaims their fleeting footsteps from the waste Of dark oblivion; thus collecting all The various forms of being to present, Before the curious aim of mimic art, Their largest choice: like spring's unfolded blooms Exhaling sweetness, that the skilful bee May taste at will, from their selected spoils, To work her dulcet food. For not the expanse Of living lakes in summer's noontide calm, Reflects the bordering shade,and sun-bright heavens, With fairer semblance; not the sculptur'd gold More faithful keeps the graver's lively trace, Than he whose birth the sister powers of art Propitious view'd, and from his genial star Shed influence to the seeds of fancy kind; Than his attemper'd bosom must preserve The seal of nature. There alone unchang'd, Her form remains. The balmy walks of May There breathe perennial sweets: the trembling chord Resounds for ever in the abstracted ear, Melodious: and the virgin's radiant eye, Superior to disease, to grief, and time, Shines with unbating lustre. Thus at length Indow'd with all that nature can bestow, The child of fancy oft in silence bends
O'er these mixt treasures of his pregnant breast, With conscious pride. From them he oft resolves To frame he knows not what excelling things; And win he knows not what sublime reward Of praise and wonder. By degrees, the mind Feels her young nerves dilate: the plastic powers Labour for action: blind emotions heave His bosom, and with loveliest phrenzy caught, From earth to heaven he rolls his daring eye, From heaven to earth. Anon ten thousand shapes, Like spectres trooping to the wizard's call, Flit swift before him. From the womb of earth, From ocean's bed they come: the eternal heavens Disclose their splendours, and the dark abyss Pours out her births unknown. With fixed gaze He marks the rising phantoms. Now compares Their different forms; now blends them; now di- Enlarges, and extenuates by turns; Opposes, ranges in fantastic bands,
And infinitely varies. Hither now, Now thither fluctuates his inconstant aim, With endless choice perplex'd. At length his plan
Begins to open. Lucid order dawns; And as from Chaos old the jarring seeds Of nature at the voice divine repair'd Each to its place, till rosy earth unveil'd Her fragrant bosom, and the joyful sun Sprung up the blue serene; by swift degrees Thus disentangled, his entire design Emerges. Colours mingle, features join, And lines converge: the fainter parts retire; The fairer eminent in light advance; And every image on its neighbour smiles. Awhile he stands, and with a father's joy Contemplates. Then with Promethean art, Into its proper vehicle he breathes
The fair conception; which, embodied thus, And permanent becomes to eyes or ears An object ascertain'd: while thus inform'd, The various organs of his mimic skill, The consonance of sounds, the featur'd rock, The shadowy picture and impassion'd verse, Beyond their proper powers attract the soul By that expressive semblance, while in sight Of nature's great original we scan
The lively child of art; while line by line, And feature after feature we refer To that sublime exemplar whence it stole Those animating charms. Thus beauty's palm Betwixt them wavering hangs: applauding love Doubts where to choose; and mortal man aspires To tempt creative praise. As when a cloud Of gathering hail with limpid crusts of ice Enclos'd and obvious to the beaming sun, Collects his large effulgence; straight the heavens. With equal flames present on either hand The radiant visage: Persia stands at gaze, Appall'd; and on the brink of Ganges doubts. The snowy vested seer, in Mithra's name To which the fragrance of the south shall burn, To which his warbled orisons ascend.
Such various bliss the well-tun'd heart enjoys, Favour'd of Heaven! while, plung'd in sordid cares, The unfeeling vulgar mocks the boon divine: And harsh austerity, from whose rebuke Young love and smiling wonder shrink away Abash'd and chill of heart, with sager frowns Condemns the fair enchantment. On my strain,. Perhaps even now, some cold, fastidious judge Casts a disdainful eye; and calls my toil, And calls the love and beauty which I sing,- The dream of folly. Thou, grave censor! say, Is beauty then a dream, because the glooms Of dullness hang too heavy on thy sense, To let her shine upon thee? So the man Whose eye ne'er open'd on the light of heaven, Might smile with scorn while raptur'd vision tells. Of the gay colour'd radiance flushing bright O'er all creation. From the wise be far Such gross unhallow'd pride; nor needs my song. Descend so low; but rather now unfold, If human thought could reach, or words unfold By what mysterious fabric of the mind, The deep-felt joys and harmony of sound
Result from airy motion; and from shape The lovely phantoms of sublime and fair. By what fine ties hath God connected things When present in the mind, which in themselves Have no connection? Sure the rising sun O'er the cerulean convex of the sea, With equal brightness and with equal warmth Might roll his fiery orb; nor yet the soul Thus feel her frame expanded, and her powers Exulting in the splendour she beholds,
Like a young conqueror moving through the pomp Of some triumphal day. When join'd at eve, Soft-murmuring streams and gales of gentlest breath Melodious Philomela's wakeful strain Attemper, could not man's discerning ear Through all its tones the sympathy pursue; Nor yet this breath divine of nameless joy Steal through his veins, and fan the awaken'd heart, Mild as the breeze, yet rapturous as the song.
But were not nature still endow'd at large With all which life requires, though unadorn'd With such enchantment? Wherefore then her form So exquisitely fair? her breath perfum'd With such ethereal sweetness? whence her voice Inform'd at will to raise or to depress
The impassion'd soul? and whence the robes of light, Which thus invest her with more lovely pomp Than fancy can describe? Whence but from thee, O source divine of ever-flowing love, And thy unmeasur'd goodness? Not content With every food of life to nourish man, By kind illusions of the wondering sense Thou mak'st all nature beauty to his eye, Or music to his ear: well pleas'd he scans The goodly prospect; and with inward smiles Treads the gay verdure of the painted plain; Beholds the azure canopy of heaven, And living lamps that over-arch his head With more than regal splendour; bends his ears To the full choir of water, air, and earth; Nor heeds the pleasing error of his thought, Nor doubts the painted green or azure arch, Nor questions more the music's mingling sounds Than space, or motion, or eternal time; So sweet he feels their influence to attract The fixed soul; to brighten the dull glooms Of care, and make the destin'd road of life Delightful to his feet. So fables.tell, The adventurous hero, bound on hard exploits, Beholds with glad surprise, by secret spells Of some kind sage, the patron of his toils, A visionary paradise disclos'd
Amid the dubious wild: with streams, and shades, And airy songs, the enchanted landscape smiles, Cheers his long labours and renews his frame. What then is taste, but these internal powers Active, and strong, and feelingly alive To each fine impulse? a discerning sense Of dece. and sublime, with quick disgust From things deform'd or disarrang'd, or gross In species? This, nor gems, nor stores of gold, Nor purple state, nor culture can bestow;
But God alone, when first his active hand Imprints the secret bias of the soul. He, mighty parent! wise and just in all, Free as the vital breeze or light of Heaven, Reveals the charms of nature. Ask the swain Who journeys homeward from a summer day's Long labour, why, forgetful of his toils And due repose, he loiters to behold
The sunshine gleaming, as through amber clouds, O'er all the western sky; full soon, I ween, His rude expression and untutor'd airs Beyond the power of language, will unfold The form of beauty smiling at his heart,
How lovely! how commanding! But though Heaven In every breast hath sown these early seeds Of love and admiration, yet in vain, Without fair culture's kind parental aid, Without enlivening suns, and genial showers, And shelter from the blast, in vain we hope The tender plant should rear its blooming head, Or yield the harvest promis'd in its spring. Nor yet will every soil with equal stores Repay the tiller's labour; or attend His will, obsequious, whether to produce The olive or the laurel. Different minds Incline to different objects: one pursues The vast alone, the wonderful, the wild; Another sighs for harmony, and grace, And gentlest beauty. Hence when lightning fires The arch of Heaven, and thunders rock the ground; When furious whirlwinds rend the howling air, And ocean, groaning from his lowest bed, Heaves his tempestuous billows to the sky, Amid the mighty uproar, while below
The nations tremble, Shakspeare looks abroad From some high cliff superior, and enjoys The elemental war. But Waller longs, All on the margin of some flowery stream To spread his careless limbs amid the cool Of plantane shades, and to the listening deer The tale of slighted vows and love's disdain Resound soft-warbling all the live-long day: Consenting Zephyr sighs; the weeping rill Joins in his plaint, melodious; mute the groves; And hill and dale with all their echoes mourn. Such and so various are the tastes of men.
Oh! blest of Heaven, whom not the languid songs Of luxury, the Syren! not the bribes
Of sordid wealth, nor all the gaudy spoils Of pageant honour can seduce to leave
Those ever-blooming sweets, which from the store Of nature fair imagination culls
To charm the enliven'd soul! What though not all Of mortal offspring can attain the heights Of envied life; though only few possess Patrician treasures or imperial state; Yet nature's care, to all her children just,“ With richer treasures and an ampler state, Indows at large whatever happy man Will deign to use them. The rural honours his.
His the city's pomp, Whate'er adorns
The princely dome, the column and the arch,
The breathing marbles and the sculptur'd gold, Beyond the proud possessor's narrow claim, His tuneful breast enjoys. For him, the spring Distils her dews, and from the silken gem Its lucid leaves unfolds: for him, the hand Of autumn tinges every fertile branch
With blooming gold and blushes like the morn. Each passing hour sheds tribute from her wings; And still new beauties meet his lonely walk, And loves unfelt attract him. Not a breeze Flies o'er the meadow, not a cloud imbibes The setting sun's effulgence, not a strain From all the tenants of the warbling shade Ascends, but whence his bosom can partake Fresh pleasure, unreprov'd. Nor thence partakes Fresh pleasure only: for the attentive mind, By this harmonious action on her powers, Becomes herself harmonious: wont so oft In outward things to meditate the charm Of sacred order, soon she seeks at home To find a kindred order, to exert Within herself this elegance of love,
This fair inspir'd delight: her temper'd powers Refine at length, and every passion wears A chaster, milder, more attractive mien.
But if to ampler prospects, if to gaze On nature's form, where negligent of all These lesser graces, she assumes the port Of that eternal majesty that weigh'd
The world's foundations; if to these the mind Exalts her daring eye; then mightier far Will be the change, and nobler. Would the forms Of servile custon cramp her generous power? Would sordid policies, the barbarous growth Of ignorance and rapine, bow her down To tame pursuits, to indolence and fear? Lo! she appeals to nature, to the winds And rolling waves, the sun's unwearied course, The elements and seasons: all declare For what the eternal Maker has ordain'd The powers of man: we feel within ourselves His energy divine: he tells the heart,
He meant, he made us to behold and love What he beholds and loves, the general orb Of life and being; to be great like him, Beneficent and active. Thus the men Whom nature's works can charm, with God himself Hold converse; grow familiar, day by day, With his conceptions, act upon his plan;
And form to his, the relish of their souls.
And impotent thy tongue. Is thy short span Capacious of this universal frame? Thy wisdom all-sufficient? Thou, alas! Dost thou aspire to judge between the Lord Of nature and his works? to lift thy voice Against the sovereign order he decreed, All good and lovely? to blaspheme the bands Of tenderness innate and social love, Holiest of things! by which the general orb Of being, as by adamantine links, Was drawn to perfect union, and sustain'd From everlasting? Hast thou felt the pangs Of softening sorrow, of indignant zeal, So grievous to the soul, as thence to wish The ties of nature broken from thy frame; That so thy selfish, unrelenting heart Might cease to mourn its lot, no longer then The wretched heir of evils not its own? O fair benevolence of generous minds! O man by nature form'd for all mankind!
He spoke; abash'd and silent I remain'd, As conscious of my tongue's offence, and aw'd Before his presence, though my secret soul Disdain'd the imputation. On the ground I fix'd my eyes; till from his airy couch He stoop'd sublime, and touching with his hand My dazzling forehead, Raise thy sight, he cry'd, And let thy sense convince thy erring tongue.
I look'd, and lo! the former scene was chang'd; For verdant alleys and surrounding trees, A solitary prospect, wide and wild, Rush'd on my senses. 'Twas an horrid pile Of hills and many a shaggy forest mix'd, With many a sable cliff and glittering stream. Aloft recumbent o'er the hanging ridge,
The brown woods wav'd; while ever trickling springs
Wash'd from the naked roots of oak and pine The crumbling soil; and still at every fall Down the steep windings of the channel'd rock, Remurmuring rush'd the congregated floods With hoarser inundation; till at last
They reach'd a grassy plain, which from the skirts Of that high desert spread her verdant lap, And drank the gushing moisture, where confin'd In one smooth current, o'er the lilied vale Clearer than glass it flow'd. Autumnal spoils Luxuriant spreading to the rays of morn, Blush'd o'er the cliffs, whose half-encircling mound As in a sylvan theatre enclos'd
That flowery level. On the river's brink I spy'd a fair pavilion, which diffus'd
Its floating umbrage 'mid the silver shade Of osiers. Now the western sun reveal'd Between two parting cliffs his golden orb, And pour'd across the shadow of the hills, On rocks and floods, a yellow stream of light That cheer'd the solemn scene. My listening powers Were aw'd, and every thought in silence hung, And wondering expectation. Then the voice Of that celestial power, the mystic show Declaring, thus my deep attention call'd. Inhabitants of earth, to whom is given
The gracious ways of providence to learn, Receive my sayings with a stedfast ear- Know then, the sov'reign spirit of the world, Though, self-collected from eternal time, Within his own deep essence he beheld The bounds of true felicity complete; Yet by immense benignity inclin'd To spread around him that primeval joy Which fill'd himself, he rais'd his plastic arm, And sounded through the hollow depth of space The strong, creative mandate. Straight arose These heavenly orbs, the glad abodes of life, Effusive kindled by his breath divine Through endless forms of being. Each inhal'd From him its portion of the vital flame, In measure such, that, from the wide complex Of co-existent orders, one might rise, One order, all involving and intire. He too beholding in the sacred light Of his essential reason, all the shapes Of swift contingence, all successive ties Of action propagated through the sum Of possible existence, he at once, Down the long series of eventful time, So fix'd the dates of being, so dispos'd, To every living soul of every kind The field of motion and the hour of rest, That all conspir'd to his supreme design, To universal good: with full accord, Answering the mighty model he had chosen, The best and fairest of unnumber'd worlds That lay from everlasting in the store Of his divine conceptions. Nor content, By one exertion of creative power His goodness to reveal; through every age, Through every moment up the tract of time, His parent-hand with ever-new increase Of happiness and virtue has adorn'd The vast harmonious frame: his parent hand, From the mute shell-fish gasping on the shore, To men, to angels, to celestial minds, For ever leads the generations on To higher scenes of being; while supply'd From day to day with his enlivening breath,
Inferior orders in succession rise To fill the void below. As flame ascends, As bodies to their proper centre move, As the pois'd ocean to the attracting moon Obedient swells, and every headlong stream Devolves its winding waters to the main; So all things which have life aspire to God, The sun of being, boundless, unimpair'd, Centre of souls! Nor does the faithful voice Of nature cease to prompt their eager steps Aright; nor is the care of heaven withheld From granting to the task proportion'd aid; That in their stations all may persevere To climb the ascent of being, and approach For ever nearer to the life divine.
That rocky pile thou seest, that verdant lawn Fresh water'd from the mountains. Let the scene Paint in thy fancy the primeval seat Of man, and where the will supreme ordain'd
His mansion, that pavilion fair diffus'd Along the shady brink; in this recess To wear the appointed season of his youth, Till riper hours should open to his toil The high communion of superior minds, Of consecrated heroes and of gods. Nor did the Sire Omnipotent forget
His tender bloom to cherish; nor withheld Celestial footsteps from his green abode. Oft from the radiant honours of his throne, He sent whom most he lov'd, the sovran fair, The effluence of his glory, whom he plac'd Before his eyes for ever to behold; The goddess from whose inspiration flows The toil of patriots, the delight of friends; Without whose work divine, in heaven or earth, Nought lovely, nought propitious comes to pass, Nor hope, nor praise, nor honour. Her the sire Gave it in charge to rear the blooming mind, The folded powers to open, to direct The growth luxuriant of his young desires, And from the laws of this majestic world
To teach him what was good. As thus the nymph Her daily care attended, by her side
With constant steps her gay companions stay'd: The fair Euphrosyne, the gentle queen Of smiles, and graceful gladness, and delights That cheer alike the hearts of mortal men And powers immortal. See the shining pair! Behold, where from his dwelling now disclos'd They quit their youthful charge, and seek the skies. I look'd, and on the flowery turf there stood Between two radiant forms a smiling youth, Whose tender cheeks display'd the vernal flower Of beauty; sweetest innocence illum'd His bashful eyes, and on his polish'd brow Sate young simplicity. With fond regard
He view'd the associates, as their steps they mov'd; The younger chief his ardent eyes detain'd, With mild regret invoking her return. Bright as the star of evening she appear'd Amid the dusky scene. Eternal youth O'er all her form its glowing honours breath'd; And smiles eternal from her candid eyes Flow'd, like the dewy lustre of the morn Effusive trembling on the placid waves. The spring of heaven had shed its blushing spoils To bind her sable tresses: full diffus'd Her yellow mantle floated in the breeze; And in her hand she wav'd a living branch Rich with immortal fruits, of power to calm The wrathful heart, and from the brightening eyes To chase the cloud of sadness. More sublime The heavenly partner mov'd. The prime of age Compos'd her steps. The presence of a god, High on the circle of her brow enthron'd, From each majestic motion darted awe, Devoted awe! till cherish'd by her looks Benevolent and meek, confiding love To filial rapture soften'd all the soul. Free in her graceful hand she pois'd the sword Of chaste dominion. An heroic crown
And through the fragrant air ethereal dews Distill'd around them; till at once the clouds Disparting wide in midway sky, withdrew Their airy veil, and left a bright expanse Of empyrean flame, where spent and drown'd, Afflicted vision plung'd in vain to scan What object it involv'd. My feeble eyes Endur'd not. Bending down to earth I stood, With dumb attention. Soon a female voice, As watery murmurs sweet, or warbling shades, With sacred invocation thus began:
Father of gods and mortals! whose right arm With reins eternal guides the moving heavens, Bend thy propitious ear. Behold well pleas'd
I seek to finish thy divine decree. With frequent steps I visit yonder seat Of man, thy offspring; from the tender seeds Of justice and of wisdom, to evolve
The latent honours of his generous frame; Till thy conducting hand shall raise his lot From earth's dim scene to these ethereal walks, The temple of thy glory. But not me, Not my directing voice he oft requires, Or hears delighted: this enchanting maid, The associate thou hast given me, her alone He loves, O Father! absent her he craves; And but for her glad presence ever join'd, Rejoices not in mine: that all my hopes This thy benignant purpose to fulfil, I deem uncertain: and my daily cares Unfruitful all and vain, unless by thee Still farther aided in the work divine.
She ceas'd; a voice more awful thus reply'd: O thou! in whom for ever I delight, Fairer than all the inhabitants of Heaven, Best image of thy author! far from thee Be disappointment, or distaste, or blame; Who soon or late shall every work fulfil, And no resistance find. If man refuse To hearken to thy dictates; or allur'd By meaner joys, to any other power Transfer the honours due to thee alone; That joy which he pursues he ne'er shall taste. That power in whom delighteth ne'er behold. Go then, once more, and happy be thy toil; Go then! but let not this thy smiling friend Partake thy footsteps. In her stead, behold! With thee the son of Nemesis I send;
The fiend abhorr'd! whose vengeance takes account Of sacred order's violated laws.
See where he calls thee, burning to be gone, Fierce to exhaust the tempest of his wrath On yon devoted head. But thou, my child, Control his cruel phrenzy, and protect
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