The scene of desolation, stretch'd around, The grim guards stand, denying all retreat. And give the flying wretch a better death.
Much yet remains unsung: the rage intense Of brazen-vaulted skies, of iron fields,
Where drought and famine starve the blasted year;
Fir'd by the torch of noon to tenfold rage,
The infuriate hill that shoots the pillar'd flame; And, rous'd within the subterranean world, The expanding earthquake, that resistless shakes Aspiring cities from their solid base,
And buries mountains in the flaming gulf. But 'tis enough; return, my vagrant muse: A nearer scene of horror calls thee home. Behold, slow-settling o'er the lurid grove, Unusual darkness broods; and growing gains The full possession of the sky, surcharg'd With wrathful vapor, from the secret beds, Where sleep the mineral generations, drawn. Thence nitre, sulphur, and the fiery spume Of fat bitumen, steaming on the day, With various-tinctur'd trains of latent flame, Pollute the sky, and in yon baleful cloud,
A reddening gloom, a magazine of fate, Ferment; till, by the touch ethereal rous'd, The dash of clouds, or irritating war
Of fighting winds, while all is calm below, They furious spring. A boding silence reigns, Dread through the dun expanse; save the dull sound That from the mountain, previous to the storm, Rolls o'er the muttering earth, disturbs the flood, And shakes the forest leaf without a breath. Prone, to the lowest vale, the aerial tribes Descend: the tempest-loving raven scarce Dares wing the dubious dusk. In rueful gaze The cattle stand, and on the scowling heavens Cast a deploring eye; by man forsook, Who to the crowded cottage hies him fast, Or seeks the shelter of the downward cave. "Tis listening fear, and dumb amazement all: When to the startled eye the sudden glance Appears far south, eruptive through the cloud; And following slower, in explosion vast, The thunder raises his tremendous voice. At first, heard solemn o'er the verge of heaven. The tempest growls; but as it nearer comes, And rolls its awful burden on the wind, The lightnings flash a larger curve, and more The noise astounds-till overhead a sheet Of livid flame discloses wide, then shuts And opens wider, shuts and opens still
Expansive, wrapping ether in a blaze. Follows the loosen'd aggravated roar, Enlarging, deepening, mingling, peal on peal Crush'd horrible, convulsing heaven and earth. Down comes a deluge of sonorous hail,
Or prone-descending rain. Wide-rent, the clouds Pour a whole flood; and yet, its flame unquench'd The unconquerable lightning struggles through, Ragged and fierce, or in red whirling balls, And fires the mountains with redoubled rage. Black from the stroke, above, the smouldering pine Stands a sad shatter'd trunk; and, stretch'd below. A lifeless group the blasted cattle lie: Here the soft flocks, with that same harmless look They wore alive, and ruminating still In fancy's eye; and there the frowning bull, And ox half-rais'd. Struck on the castled cliff, The venerable tower and spiry fane
Resign their aged pride. The gloomy woods Start at the flash, and from their deep recess, Wide-flaming out, their trembling inmates shade. Amid Caernarvon's mountains rages loud The repercussive roar; with mighty crush, Into the flashing deep, from the rude rocks Of Penmaen Mawr heap'd hideous to the sky, Tumble the smitten cliffs; and Snowdon's peak. Dissolving, instant yields his wintry load. Far-seen, the heights of heathy Cheviot blaze,
So pass'd their life, a clear united stream. By care unruffled; till, in evil hour, The tempest caught them on the tender walk, Heedless how far, and where its mazes stray'd. While, with each other bless'd, creative love Still bade eternal Eden smile around. Heavy with instant fate, her bosom heav'd Unwonted sighs, and stealing oft a look Of the big gloom, on Celadon her eye Fell tearful, wetting her disorder'd cheek. In vain assuring love, and confidence
In Heaven, repress'd her fear; it grew, and shook Her frame near dissolution. He perceiv'd The unequal conflict; and, as angels look On dying saints, his eyes compassion shed, With love illumin'd high. Fear not," he said, VOL. III.-No. 13.-B
"Sweet innocence! thou stranger to offense, And inward storm! He who yon skies involves In frowns and darkness, ever smiles on thee With kind regard. O'er thee the secret shaft That wastes at midnight, or the undreaded hour Of noon, flies harmless; and that very voice Which thunders terror through the guilty heart, With tongues of seraphs whispers peace to thine. 'Tis safety to be near thee sure, and thus To clasp perfection!" From his void embrace, Mysterious Heaven! that moment, to the ground, A blacken'd corse, was struck the beauteous maid. But who can paint the lover, as he stood, Pierc'd by severe amazement, hating life, Speechless, and fix'd in all the death of woe! So, faint resemblance, on the marble tomb
The well-dissembled mourner stooping stands, Forever silent, and forever sad.
As from the face of heaven the shatter'd clouds Tumultuous rove, the interminable sky Sublimer swells, and o'er the world expands A purer azure. Nature, from the storm, Shines out afresh; and through the lighten'd air A higher lustre and a clearer calm, Diffusive, tremble; while, as if in sign Of danger past, a glittering robe of joy, Set off abundant by the yellow ray,
Invests the fields, yet dropping from distress. 'Tis beauty all, and grateful song around, Join'd to the low of kine, and numerous bleat Of flocks thick-nibbling through the clover'd vale. And shall the hymn be marr'd by thankless man, Most-favor'd; who with voice articulate Should lead the chorus of this lower world? Shall he, so soon forgetful of the hand That hush'd the thunder, and serenes the sky, Extinguish'd feel that spark the tempest wak'd, That sense of powers exceeding far his own, Ere yet his feeble heart has lost its fears?
Cheer'd by the milder beam, the sprightly youth Speeds to the well-known pool, whose crystal depth A sandy bottom shows. Awhile he stands Gazing the inverted landscape, half-afraid To meditate the blue profound below; Then plunges headlong down the circling flood. His ebon tresses and his rosy cheek Instant emerge; and through the obedient wave, At each short breathing by his lip repell'd, With arms and legs according well, he makes, As humor leads, an easy-winding path; While, from his polish'd sides, a dewy light Effuses on the pleas'd spectators round. This is the purest exercise of health, The kind refresher of the summer heats; Nor, when cold Winter keens the brightening flood, Would I weak-shivering linger on the brink. Thus life redoubles; and is oft preserved, By the bold swimmer, in the swift illapse
Of accident disastrous. Hence the limbs Knit into force; and the same Roman arm That rose victorious o'er the conquer'd earth, First learned, while tender, to subdue the wave. Even, from the body's purity, the mind Receives a secret sympathetic aid.
Close in the covert of an hazel copse, Where winded into pleasing solitudes
Runs out the rambling dale, young Damon sat; Pensive, and pierc'd with love's delightful pangs. There to the stream that down the distant rocks Hoarse-murmuring fell, and plaintive breeze that play'd
Among the bending willows, falsely he Of Musidora's cruelty complain'd.
She felt his flame; but deep within her breast, In bashful coyness, or in maiden pride, The soft return conceal'd-save when it stole In sidelong glances from her downcast eye, Or from her swelling soul in stifled sighs. Touched by the scene, no stranger to his vows, He fram'd a melting lay, to try her heart; And, 11 an infant passion struggled there, To call that passion forth. Thrice-happy swain! A lucky chance, that oft decides the fate Of mighty monarchs, then decided thine. For, lo conducted by the laughing Loves, This cool retreat his Musidora sought: Warm in her cheek the sultry season glow'd; And, rob'd in loose array, she came to bathe Her fervent limbs in the refreshing stream. What shall he do? In sweet confusion lost,
And dubious flutterings, he awhile remain'd. A pure ingenuous elegance of soul, A delicate refinement known to few, Perplex'd his breast, and urg'd him to retire; But love forbade. Ye prudes in virtue, say, Say, ye severest, what would you have done? Meantime, this fairer nymph than ever bless'd Arcadian stream, with timid eye around
The banks surveying, stripp'd her beauteous limbs, To taste the lucid coolness of the flood. Ah! then, not Paris on the piny top Of Ida panted stronger, when aside The rival goddesses the vail divine
Cast unconfin'd, and gave him all their charms, Than, Damon, thou; as from the snowy leg, And slender foot, the inverted silk she drew; As the soft touch dissolv'd the virgin zone; And, through the parting robe, the alternate breast, With youth wild-throbbing, on thy lawless gaze In full luxuriance rose. But, desperate youth, How durst thou risk the soul-distracting view, As from her naked limbs, of glowing white, Harmonious swell'd by Nature's finest hand, In folds loose-floating fell the fainter lawn, And fair expos'd she stood-shrunk from herself, With fancy blushing, at the doubtful breeze Alarm'd, and starting like the fearful fawn? Then to the flood she rush'd: the parted flood Its lovely guest with closing waves received; And every beauty softening, every grace Flushing anew, a mellow lustre shed- As shines the lily through the crystal mild, Or as the rose amid the morning dew, Fresh from Aurora's hand, more sweetly glows. While thus she wanton'd now beneath the wave But ill-concealed, and now with streaming locks, That half-embrac'd her in a humid vail, Rising again, the latent Damon drew Such maddening draughts of beauty to the soul, As for a while o'erwhelm'd his raptur'd thought With luxury too daring. Check'd, at last. By love's respectful modesty, he deem'd The theft profane, if aught profane to love Can e'er be deem'd, and, struggling from the shade, With headlong hurry fled; but first these lines, Trac'd by his ready pencil, on the bank With trembling hand he threw: "Bathe on, my fair, Yet unbeheld save by the sacred eye
Of faithful love: I go to guard thy haunt; To keep from thy recess each vagrant foot, And each licentious eye." With wild surprise, As if to marble struck, devoid of sense, A stupid moment motionless she stood: So stands the statue that enchants the world: So bending tries to vail the matchless boast, The mingled beauties of exulting Greece. Recovering, swift she flew to find those robes Which blissful Eden knew not; and, array'd In careless haste, the alarming paper snatch'd. But when her Damon's well known hand she saw, Her terrors vanish'd, and a softer train Of mix'd emotions, hard to be describ'd, Her sudden bosom seiz'd: shame void of guilt, The charming blush of innocence, esteem And admiration of her lover's flame, By modesty exalted. Even a sense Of self-approving beauty stole across
Her busy thought. At length, a tender calm Hushed by degrees the tumult of her soul; And on the spreading beech, that o'er the stream Incumbent hung, she with the sylvan pen Of rural lovers this confession carv'd, Which soon her Damon kiss'd with weeping joy: "Dear youth! sole judge of what these verses mean,
Of which the vulgar never had a glimpse, Displays its charms-whose minds are richly fraught With philosophic stores, superior light- And in whose breast, enthusiastic, burns Virtue the sons of interest deem romance, Now call'd abroad enjoy the falling day: Now to the verdant portico of woods, To Nature's vast lyceum, forth they walk; By that kind school where no proud master reigns, The full free converse of the friendly heart, Improving and improv'd. Now from the world, Sacred to sweet retirement, lovers steal, And pour their souls in transport, which the Sire Of love approving hears, and calls it good. Which way, Amanda, shall we bend our course?
All is the same with thee. Say shall we wind Along the streams? or walk the smiling mead; Or court the forest glades? or wander wild Among the waving harvests? or ascend, While radiant Summer opens all its pride, Thy hill, delightful Sheen? Here let us sweep The boundless landscape; now the raptur'd eye Exulting swift, to huge Augusta send, Now to the sister-bills that skirt her plain To lofty Harrow now, and now to where Majestic Windsor lifts his princely brow. In lovely contrast to this glorious view, Calmly magnificent, then will we turn
To where the silver Thames first rural grows. There let the feasted eye unwearied stray; Luxurious, there, rove through the pendent woods That nodding hang o'er Harrington's retreat, And stooping thence to Ham's embowering walks, Beneath whose shades, in spotless peace retir'd, With her the pleasing partner of his heart, The worthy Queensbury yet laments his Gay, And polish'd Cornbury woos the willing muse, Slow let us trace the matchless vale of Thames- Fair-winding up to where the muses haunt In Twit'nam's bowers, and for their Pope implore The healing god, to royal Hampton's pile, To Clermont's terrac'd height, and Esher's groves, Where in the sweetest solitude, embrac'd By the soft windings of the silent Mole, From courts and senates Pelham finds repose. Enchanting vale! beyond whate'er the muse Has of Achaia or Hesperia sung!
O vale of bliss! O softly swelling bills! On which the power of cultivation lies, And joys to see the wonders of his toil.
Heavens! what a goodly prospect spreads around, Of hills, and dales, and woods, and lawns, and spires, And glittering towns, and gilded streams, till all The stretching landscape into smoke decays! Happy Britannia! where the queen of arts, Inspiring vigor, liberty abroad Walks, unconfin'd, even to thy farthest cots, And scatters plenty, with unsparing hand.
Rich is thy soil, and merciful thy clime; Thy streams unfailing in the Summer's drought; Unmatch'd thy guardian oaks; thy valleys float With golden waves; and on thy mountains flocks Bleat numberless-while, roving round their sides. Bellow the blackening herds in lusty droves. Beneath, thy meadows glow, and rise unquell'd Against the mower's scythe. On every hand Thy villas shine. Thy country teems with wealth, And property assures it to the swain, Pleas'd and unwearied in his guarded toil.
Full are thy cities with the sons of art; And trade and joy, in every busy street, Mingling are heard: even drudgery himself,
As at the car he sweats, or dusty hews The palace-stone, looks gay. Thy crowded ports, Where rising masts an endless prospect yield, With labor burn, and echo to the shouts Of hurried sailor, as he hearty waves His last adieu, and, loosening every sheet, Resigns the spreading vessel to the wind.
Bold, firm, and graceful, are thy generous youth, By hardship sinew'd, and by danger fir'd, Scattering the nations where they go; and first, Or in the listed plain, or stormy seas. Mild are thy glories too, as o'er the plans Of thriving peace thy thoughtful sires preside; In genius, and substantial learning, high; For every virtue, every worth, renown'd; Sincere, plain-hearted, hospitable, kind; Yet like the mustering thunder when provok'd, The dread of tyrants, and the sole resource Of those that under grim oppression groan. Thy sons of glory many! Alfred thine, In whom the splendor of heroic war And more heroic peace, when govern'd well,
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