TEARS OF OLD MAY.DAY...JULIA'S PRINTED LETTER. 287
"Pale, immature, the blighted verdure springs, Nor mounting juices feed the swelling flow'r; Mute all the groves, nor Philomela sings
When Silence listens at the midnight hour. "Nor wonder, man, that Nature's bashful face, And op'ning charms her rude embraces fear: Is she not sprung of April's wayward race,
The sickly daughter of th' unripen'd year? "With show'rs and sunshine in her fickle eyes, With hollow smiles proclaiming treach'rous peace;
With blushes, harb'ring in their thin disguise, The blast that riots on the Spring's encrease. "Is this the fair invested with my spoil
By Europe's laws, and senates' stern commands?
Ungen'rous Europe, let me fly the soil,
And waft my treasures to a grateful land: "Again revive on Asia's drooping shore, My Daphne's groves, or Lycia's ancient plain; Again to Afric's sultry sands restore Embow'ring shades, and Lybian Ammon's fane :
"Or haste to northern Zembla's savage coast, There hush to silence elemental strife; Brood o'er the region of eternal frost,
And swell her barren womb with heat and life. ""Then Britain"-here she ceas'd. Indignant grief, And parting pangs her fault'ring tongue supprest:
Veil'd in an amber cloud, she sought relief, And tears, and silent anguish told the rest.
TO THE REV. MR. WOODDESON, OF KINGSTON THE LADIES OF HIS UPON THAMES, AND NEIGHBOURHOOD.
O THOU who sit'st in academic schools,
Less teaching than inspiring ancient art, Thy own example nobler than your rules,
Thy blameless life best lesson for the heart. And ye, who dwell in peaceful groves around, Whose voice, whose verse enchants, harmoni- ous maids!
Who mix the lyre with harps of Cambrian sound; A mournful Muse, ah! shelter in your shades! Nor you she rivals nor such magic strain
As rescu'd Eloise from oblivion's sleep : Enough, if one, the meekest of your train, Poor Julia! cries,-and turns aside to weep!-
-AND dar'st thou then, insulting lord, demand A friendly answer from this trembling hand? Perish the thought! shall this unguarded pen Still trust its frailties with the frauds of men. To one, and one alone, again impart The soft effusions of a melting heart!- No more thy lips my tender page shall stain, And priut false kisses, dream't sincere in vain ; No more thy eyes with sweet surprise pursue, Love's secret mysteries there unveil'd to you. Demand'st thou still an answer?-let it be An answer worthy vengeance, worthy me!- Hear it in public characters relate An ill starr'd passion, and capricious fate! Yes, public let it stand;-to warn the maid From her that fell, less vanquish'd, than betray'd: Guiltless, yet doom'd with guilty pangs to groan, And expiate other's treasons, not her own: A race of shame in honour's paths to run, Still virtue's follower, yet by vice undone; Such free complaint to injur'd love belongs. Yes, tyrant, read, and know me by my wrongs; Know thy own treacheries, bar'd to general view, Yes, traitor, read, and reading tremble too!
What vice would perpetrate and fraud dis- I come to blaze it to a nation's eyes; [guise, I come-ah! wretch, thy swelling rage controul. "Was he not once the idol of thy soul?- True, by his guilt thy tortur'd bosom bleeds, Yet spare his blushes, for 'tis love that pleads! Respecting him, respect thy infant flame, Froclaim the treason, hide the traitor's name! Enough to honour, and revenge be given, This truth reserve for conscience and for Hea- ven!"
Talk'st thou,ingrate, of friendship's holy powers? What binds the tiger and the lamb be ours! This cold, this frozen bosom, can'st thou dream Senseless to love, will soften to esteem? What means thy proffer'd friendship?-but to prove [love
Thou wilt not hate her, whom thou can'st not Remember thee!-repeat that sound again!— My heart applauding echoes to the strain; Yes, till this heart forgets to beat, and grieve, Live there thy image-but detested live!- Still swell my rage uncheck'd by time, or fate, Nor waken memory but to kindle hate!- Enter thy treacherous bosom, enter deep, Hear conscience call, while flatt'ring passions sleep!-
Impartial search, and tell thy boasted claim To love's indulgence and to virtuous fame! Where harbour Honour, Justice, Faith, and [my youth:
Bright forms, whose dazzling semblance caught How could I doubt what fairest seem'd and best
Should build its mansion in a noble breast? How doubt such generous virtues lodg'd in thine That felt them glowing, tender maid, in mine? Boast not of trophies from my fall achiev'd, Boast not, deceiver, in this soul deceiv'd; Easy the traitor wines an open heart, Artless itself, and unsuspecting art:
Not by superiour wiles, successful proves, But fond credulity in her that loves.-
Blush, shameless grandeur, blush!--shall Britain's peer,
Daring all crimes, not dare to be sincere?— His fraud in Virtue's fairest likeness paint, And hide his nobleness in base constraint. What charms were mine to tempt thy guilty fires! [sires! What wealth, what honours from illustrious Can Virtue's simple spoils adorn thy race? Shall annals mark a village-maid's disgrace? Ev'n the sad secret, to thyself confin'd, Sleeps, nor thou dar'st divulge it to mankind: When bursting tears my inward anguish speak, When paleness spreads my sometimes flushing cheek,
When my frame trembles with convulsive strife, And spirits flutter on the verge of life, When to my heart the ebbing pulse is driv'n, And eyes throw faint recusing beams to Heav'n, Still from the world those swelling sighs sup- prest,
Those sorrows streaming in one faithful breast; Explain to her, from others hide my care, Thought nature's weakness, and not love's de- spair,
Fierce and undaunted to a sex appears [tears ; That breathes its vengeance but in sighs and That helpless sex, by Nature's voice addrest To lean its weakness on your firmer breast, Protection pleads in vain-th' ungenerous slave Insults the virtue he was born to save.-
What shall the lightest promise lips can feign Bind man to man in honour's sacred chain? And oaths to us not sanctify th' accord, Not Heav'n attested, and Heav'n's awful Lord? Why various laws for beings form'd the same? Equal from one indulgent hand we came, For mutual bliss that each assign'd its place, With manly vigour temp'ring female grace. Depriv'd our gentler intercourse, explain Your solitary pleasures sullen reign; What tender joys sit brooding o'er your store, How sweet ambition slumbers gorg'd with gore! 'Tis our's th' unsocial passions to control, Pour the glad balm that heals the wounded soul; From wealth, from power's delusive, restless dreams
To lure your fancy to diviner themes. Confess at length your fancied rights you draw From force superior, and not Nature's law, Yet know, by us those boasted arms prevail, By native gentleness, not man we fail; With brave revenge a tyrant's blood to spill Possessing all the power-we want the will.
The sprightly youth in gloomy languor pine, My portion misery, yet not triumph thine- Ah! whence derives thy sex its barbarous powers To spoil the sweetness of our virgin hours? Why leave me not, where first I met your eye, A simple flower to bloom in shades, and die?—Not lurks in fraudful thickets from the day; Where sprightly morn on downy pinions rose, And evening lull'd me to a deep repose? Sharing pure joys, at least divine content, The choicest treasure for mere mortals meant. Ah! wherefore poisoning moments sweet as these, Essay on me thy fatal arts to please? Destin'd, if prosperous, for sublimer charms, To court proud wealth, and greatness to thy arms!
Still if you glory in the lion's force, Come, nobly emulate that lion's course! From guarded herds he vindicates his prey,
While man, with snares to cheat, with wiles
How many a brighter, many a fairer dame, Fond of her prize had fann'd thy fickle flame? With livelier moments sooth'd thy vacant mind? Easy possess'd thee, easy too resign'd— Chang'd but her object, passion's willing slave, Nor felt a wound to fester to the grave- Oh! had I, conscious of thy fierce desires, But half consenting, shar'd contagious fires, But half reluctant, heard thy vows explain'd, This vanquish'd heart had suffer'd, not com- plain'd-
Weakens already weak too soft a sex;
In law's, in custom's, fashion's fetters binds, Relaxes all the nerves that brace our minds, Then, lordly savage, rends the captive heart First gain'd by treachery, then tam'd by art.-
Are these reflections then that love inspires? Is bitter grief the fruit of fair desires? From whose example could I dream to find A claim to curse, perhaps to wrong mankind? Ah! long I strove to burst th' enchanting tie, And form'd resolves, that ev'n in forming die; Too long I linger'd on the shipwreck'd coast, And ey'd the ocean where my wealth was lost! In silence wept, scarce venturing to complain, Still to my heart dissembled half my pain- Ascrib'd my sufferings to its fears, not you; Beheld you treacherous, and then wish'd you true;
Sooth'd by those wishes, by myself deceiv'd, I fondly hop'd, and what I hop'd believ'd.- Cruel! to whom? ah! whither should I flee, Friends, fortune, fame, deserted all for thee! On whom but you my fainting breast repose? With whom but you deposit all its woes? To whom but you explain its stifled groan?
But ah, with tears and crouded sighs to sue Faise passion's dress in colours meant for true; Artful assume confusion's sweet disguise, Meet my coy virtues with dejected eyes, Steal their sweet language that no words impart, And give me back an image of my heart, This, this was treachery, fated best to share Hate from my bosom, and from thine despair-And live for whom, but love and you alone? Yet unrelenting still the tyrant cries, Heedless of pity's voice and beauty's sighs, "That pious frauds the wisest, best, approve, And Heaven but smiles at perjuries in love."— No 'tis the viflian's plea, his poor pretence, To seize a trembling prey, that wants defence, No 'tis the base sensation cowards feel; The wretch that trembles at the brave man's steel,
What hand to probe my bleeding heart be found? What hand to heal?-but his that gave the wound?-
O dreadful chaos of the ruin'd mind! Lost to itself, to virtue, human kind' [wide, From Earth, from Heaven, a meteor flaming Link'd to no system, to no world allied; A blank of Nature, vanish'd every thought That Nature, reason, that experience taught,
Past, present, future trace, alike destroy'd, Where love alone can fill the mighty void: That love on unreturning pinions flown We grasp a shade, the noble substance gone- From one ador'd and once adoring, dream Of friendship's tenderness-ev'n cold esteem (Humble our vows) rejected with disdain, Ask a last conference, but a parting strain, More suppliant still, the wretched suit advance, Plead for a look, a momentary glance, A letter, token--on destruction's brink We catch the feeble plank of hope, and sink. In those dread moments, when the hov'ring flame
Scarce languish'd into life, again you came, Pursued again a too successful theme, And dry'd my eyes, with your's again to stream; Whea treach'rous tears your venial faults con- fess'd,
And half dissembled, half excus'd the rest, To kindred griefs taught pity from my own, Sighs I return'd, and echoed groan for groan; Your self reproaches stifling mine, approv'd, And much I credited, for much I lov'd.
Not long the soul this doubtful dream pro- longs,
If prompt to pardon, nor forget its wrongs, It scorns the traitor, and with conscious pride Scorns a base self, deserting to his side; Great by misfortune, greater by despair, Its Heaven once lost, rejects an humbler care; To drink the dregs of languid joys disdains, And flies a passion but perceiv'd from pains; Too just the rights another claims to steal, Too good its feelings to wish virtue feel, Perhaps too tender or too fierce, my soul Disclaiming half the heart, demands the whole.- I blame thee not, that, fickle as thy race, New loves invite thee, and the old etlace; That cold, insensible, thy soul appears To virtue's siniles, to virtue's very tears; But ah! an heart whose tenderness you knew, That offer'd Heaven, but second vows to you, In fond presumption that securely play'd. Securely slumber'd in your friendly shade, Whose every weakness, every sigh to share, The powers that haunt the perjur'd, heard you
As soon shall quicken, as my torments cease, Rock'd on the lap of innocence and peace, As smiles and joy this pensive brow invade, And smooth the traces by affliction made: Flames, once extinguish'd, virtue's lamp divine, And visits honour, a deserted shrine?
No, wretch, too long on passion's ocean tost, Not Heaven itself restores the good you lost; The form exists not that thy fancy dream'd, A fiend pursues thee that an angel seem'd; Impassive to the touch of reason's ray His fairy phantom melts in clouds away; Yet take my pardon in my last farewell, The wounds you gave, ah cruel! never feel! VOL. XVI.
Fated like me to court and curse thy fate, To blend in dreadful union love and hate; Chiding the present moment's slumb'ring haste, To dread the future, and deplore the past; Like me condemn th' effect, the cause approve, Renounce the lover, and retain the love. Yes, Love! ev'n now in this ill-fated hour, An exile from thy joys, I feel thy power. The Sun to me his noontide blaze that shrouds In browner horrours than when veil'd in clouds, The Moon, faint light that melancholy throws, The streams that murmur, yet not court repose, The breezes sickening with my mind's disease, And vallies laughing to all eyes but these, Proclaim thy absence, Love, whose beam alone Lighted my morn with glories not its own. O thou of generous passions purest, best! Soon as thy flame shot rapture to my breast, Each pulse expanding, trembled with delight, And aching vision drank thy lovely light, A new creation brightened to my view, Nurs'd in thy smiles the social passions grew, New strung, the thrilling nerves harmonious And beat sweet unison to others' woes, [rose, Slumb'ring no more a Lethe's lazy flood, In generous currents swell'd the sprightly blood, No longer now to partial streams confin'd, Spread like an ocean, and embrac'd mankind, No more concentering in itself the blaze The soul diffus'd benevolence's rays, Kindled on Earth, pursued th' etherial road, In hallow'd flames ascended to its God.
Yes, Love, thy star of generous influence cheers Our gloomy dwelling in this vale of tears. What? if a tyrant's blasting hand destroys Thy swelling blossoms of expected joys, Converts to poison what for life was given, Thy manna dropping from its native Heaven, Still love victorious triumphs, still confest The noblest transport that can warm the breast; Yes, traitor, yes, my heart to nature true, Adores the passion and detests but you.
ON REBUILDING COMBE-NEVILLE,
NEAR KINGSTON, SURREY, ONCE THE SEAT OF THE FAMOUS KING MAKING EARL OF WARWICK, AND LATE IN THE POSSESSION OF THE FAMILY OF HARVEY.
YE modern domes that rise elate
O'er yonder prostrate walls,
In vain your hope to match the state Of Neville's ancient halls.
Dread mansion! on thy Gothic tower Were regal standards rais'd; The rose of York, white virgin flower, Or red Lancaster's blaz`d.
Warwick, high chief, whose awful word Or shook, or fix'd the throne, Spread here his hospitable board, Or warr'd in tilts alone.
When Combe her garter'd knights beheld On barbed steeds advance,
Where ladies crown'd the tented field, And love inspir'd the lance.
Historic heralds here array'd Fair acts in gorgeous style, But heroes toils were best repay'd By bashful beauty's smile.-
So flourish'd Combe, and flourish'd long With lords of bounteous soul; Her walls still echoed to the song,
And mirth still drain'd her bowl.
And still her courts with footsteps meek The fainting traveller prest, Still misery flush'd her faded cheek At Harvey's genial feast.-
Lov'd seat, how oft, in childish ease,
Along thy woods I stray'd,
Now vent'rous climb'd embow'ring trees, Now sported in their shade.
Along thy hills the chase I led
With echoing hounds and horns, And left for thee my downy bed, Unplanted yet with thorns.
Now, languid with the noontide beams, Explor'd thy precious springs That proudly flow, like Susa's streams, To temper cups for kings.
But soon, inspir'd with nobler powers, I sought thy awful grove;
There frequent sooth'd my evening hours, That best deceiver, love.
Each smiling joy was there, that springs In life's delicious prime; There young ambition plum'd his wings, And mock'd the flight of time.- There patriot passions fir'd my breast With freedom's glowing themes, And virtue's image rose confest
In bright Platonic dreams.
Ah me! my dreams of harmless youth No more thy walks invade,
The charm is broke by sober truth, Thy fairy visions fade.-
No more unstain'd with fear or guilt Such hours of rapture smile,
Each airy fabric fancy built
Is vanish'd as thy pile!
PRESENTING THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD WITH HER COLLECTION OF STATUES.
Illustrious nations! Their's was empire's seat, Their's virtue, freedom, each enchanting grace; Sculpture with them to bright perfection rose, Sculpture, whose bold Promethean hand inform'd The stubborn mass with life-in fretted gold Or yielding marble, to the raptur'd eye Display'd the shining conclave of the skies, And chiefs and sages gave the passions form, And virtue shape corporeal: taught by her The obedient brass dissolv'd;
WELCOME again the reign of ancient arts! Welcome fair modern days from Gothic night, Though late, emerging, sun of sciente hail! Whose glorious rays enlightened Greece and Rome,
Hampton-Court palace is supplied with water from the springs on Combe Hills.
2" There Susa by Choapes' amber stream, The drink of none but kings."
In love's soft fires thy winning charms she stole, Thou mild retreating Medicean fair.
She maik'd the flowing Dryads lighter step, The panting bosom, garments flowing loose, And wanton tresses waving to the wind.- Again by Pomfret's generous care, these stores Of ancient fame revisit learning's seats, Their old abode. O reverence learning's seats, Ye beauteous arts! for know, by learning's smiles
Ye grew immortal-Know, however fair Sculpture and Painting, fairer Poetry, Your eldest sister, from the Aonian mount, Imagination's fruitful realm, supply'd The rich material of your lovely soil. Her fairy forms, poetic fancy first Peopled the hills, and vales, and fabled groves With shapes celestial, and by fountain side Saw fauns with wanton satyrs lead the dance With meek-ey'd naïads; saw your Cyprian Ascending from the ocean's wave; [queen Foetic fancy in Maonian song Pictur'd immortal Jove, ere Phidias' hands Sublime with all his thunders form'd the god. Here then uniting with your kindred art, Majestic Grecian sculpture deign to dwell, Here shadss of Academe again invite, Athenian philosophic shades, and here Ye Roman forms, a nobler Tyber flows.
Come, Pomfret, come, of rich munificence Partake the fame, though candid blushes rise, And modest virtues shun the blaze of day. Fomfret, not all thy honours, splendid train, Not the bright coronet that binds thy brow, Not all thy lovely offspring, radiant queens On beauty's throne, shall consecrate thy praise Like science, boasting in thy genial beam Increasing stores: in these embowering shades Stands the fair tablet of eternal fame; There memory's adamantine pen records Her sons; but each ilustrious female's name In golden characters engrav'd, defies Envy and Time, superior to their rage.— Pomfret shall live, the generous Pomfret join'd With Caroline, and martial Edward's queen, And great Eliza, regal names, like thee Smiling on arts and learning's sons they reign'd.- And see where Westmorland adorns the train Of learning's princely patrons! Lo, 1 see A new pantheon rise as that of old Famous, nor founded by ignobler hands; Though thine, Agrippa, sway'd the helm of I see enshrin'd majestic awful forms, [Rome : Chiefs, legislators, patriots, beauties, gods. Not him by superstitious fears ador'd With barbarous sacrifice and frantic zeal, Yet not uncelebrated nor unsung, for oft Thou, slumb'ring Cupid, with inverted torch Botokening mildest fires, shall hear the sighs
Of virtuous, love-sick youths. You too shall reign,
Celestial Venus, though with chaster rites, Addrest with vows from purer votaries heard.
THE Sun wakes jocund-all of life, who breathe In air, or earth, and lawn, and thicket rove, Who swim the surface, or the deep beneath, Swell the full chorus of delight and love. But what are ye, who cheer the bay of hounds' Whose levell'd thunder frightens Morn's repose' Who drag the net, whose hook insidious wounds A writhing reptile, type of mightier woes?
I see ye come, and havock loose the reins,
A general groan the general anguish speaks, The stately stag falls butcher'd on the plains, The dew of death bangs clammy on his cheeks. Ah! see the pheasant fluttering in the brake, Green, azure, gold, but undistinguish'd gore! Yet spare the tenants of the silver lake!
—I call in vain-they gasp upon the shore. A yet ignobler band is guarded round
With dogs of war-the spurning bull their prize;
And now he bellows, humbled to the ground;
And now they sprawl in howlings to the skies. You too must feel their missile weapon's power, Whose clarion charms the midnight's sullen
air; Thou the morn's harbinger, must mourn the hour Vigil to fasts, and penitence, and prayer'. Must fatal wars of human avarice wage
For milder conflicts, love their palm design'd? Now sheath'd in steel, must rival reason's rage Deal mutual death, and emulate mankind? Are these your sovereign joys, creation's lords? Is death a banquet for a godlike soul? Have rigid hearts no sympathising chords For concord, order, for th' harmonious whole? Nor plead necessity, thou man of blood!
Heaven tempers power with mercy-Heaven revere !
Yet slay the wolf for safety, lamb for food;
But shorten misery's pangs, and drop a tear! Ah! rather turn, and breath this evening gale' Uninjur'd and uninjuring nature's peace. Come, draw best nectar from the foaming pail, Come, pen the fold, and count the stock's in- crease !
See pasturing heifers with the bull, who wields Yet budding horns, and wounds alone the soil! Or see the panting spaniel try the fields While bursting coveys mock his wanton toil! Now feel the steed with youth's elastic force Spontaneous bound, yet bear thy kind con- trol;
Nor mangle all his sinews in the course, And fainting, staggering, lash him to the goal!
Now sweetly pensive, bending o'er the stream, Mark the gay floating myriads, nor molest Their sports, their slumbers, but inglorious dream Of evil fled and all creation blest?
Or else, beneath thy porch, in social joy
Sit and approve thy infant's virtuous haste, Humanity's sweet tones while all employ
To lure the wing'd domestics to repast! There smiling see a fop in swelling state,
The turkey strut with valour's red pretence, And duck row on with waddling honest gait, And goose mistake solemnity for sense! While one with front erect in simple pride
Full firmly treads, his consort waits his call, Now deal the copious barley, waft it wide, That each may taste the bounty meant for all Yon bashful songsters with retorted eye Pursue the grain, yet wheel contracted flight, While he, the bolder sparrow, scorns to fly, A son of freedom claiming nature's right. Liberal to him; yet still the wafted grain,
Choicest for those of modest worth, dispense, And blessing Heaven that wakes their grateful strain,
Let Heaven's best joy be thine, Benevolence. While flocks soft bleatings, echoing high and clear,
The neigh of steeds, responsive o'er the heath, Deep lowings sweeter melt upon thy ear
Than screams of terrour and the groans of death.
Yet sounds of woe delight a giant brood:
Fly then mankind, ye young, ye helpless old ! For not their fury, a consuming flood,
Distinguishes the shepherd, drowns the fold. But loosen once thy gripe, avenging law!
Eager on man, a noble chase, they start; Now from a brother's side the dagger draw, Now sheath it deeper in a virgin's heart. See as they reach ambition's purple fruits Their reeking hands in nation's carnage died! No longer bathing in the blood of brutes,
They swim to empire in a human tide. But see him, see the fiend that others stung, With scorpion conscience lash himself the
See, festering in the bosom where they sprung, The fury passions that laid nature waste! Eehold the self-tormentor drag his chains, And weary Heaven with many a fruitless groan!
By pining fasts, by voluntary pains,
Revenging nature's cause, he pleads his own. Yet prostrate, suppliant to the throne above,
He calls down Heaven in thunders to pursue Heaven's fancied foes-O God of peace and lore, The voice of thunder is no voice from you! Mistaken mortal! 'tis that God's decree To spare thy own, nor shed another's blood: Heaven breathes benevolence, to all, to thee; Each being's bliss consummates general good.
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