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Lines on the figure of a Warrior, dressed in Feudal
Armour, his shield adorned with an ancient heraldric coat; a Baronial castle in the back ground, on the highest tower of which is displayed a banner, vearing the same insignia; drawn and presented to the author by the Rev. C.W.*
" So shone th' heroic chief in days of old;
Fierce was his mien; his limbs of giant mould
Beneath the load of cumbrous armour light,
Active he bounded to th' infuriate fight;
Broad was his shield, with bold device imprest,
And on his helmet frown'd the grimly crest:
Yon moated castle's
To frown defiance on his vassals' foes;
And o'er that shadowy forest's wide domains,
O'er these blue hills, and those extended plains,
O'er many a scatter'd vill, and many a town,
He rul'd by right, by favour, or renown.
Ferocious days, and days of wild alarm,
Yet chear'd by many a joy, and many a charm,
Which these degenerate times have lost.-For Power
Dwelt with the chief, who own'd the Feudal Tower!
Lord of the generous arts, that win command,
By noble counsel, or by valorous hand,
He knew no rivals in the dastard knaves,
Who spring to wealth from Lucre's base-born slaves; 20
* One, who after one and thirty years of uninterrupted friendship, and after baving buffeted with the rage of the yellow fever in the Atlantic, and having afterwards visited all the shores of the Mediterranean, and witnessed the horrors and the glories of the tremendous night, which was illuminated by the battle of the Nile, is returned safe to form one of the few props and comforts of the author's life.
Who gain rich lands, and feed luxurious boards,
By the vile modes, which groveling Trade affords!
Perchance some Knight of more advontrous name
His spirit's generous envy might enflame,
One, on whose breast with more resplendent fire
Bcam'd the red cross, or growi'd the lion's ire;
Who rode with statelier grace the prancing horse,
Or couch'd his quivering lance with mightier force !
E'en tho' his heaving bosom swell'd with pain,
Aspiring wreaths of equal worth to gain,
Still in the grateful strife was glory mix'd,
And Virtue's wishes in his heart were fix'd:
No wcalthy son of Commerce bade him bide
Before superior pomp his lessen'd pride,
Nor callid him with insulting sneers to vie
In the mean race of arts he scorn'd to try :
Honour and rank and wealth he saw await
Toils of the wise, and actions of the great;
Nor mark'd, where'er before his aching eyes
Halls, mansions, castles, palaces, arise,
Wretches usurp them, who in darksome cells
Won their base spoils by Traffic's hated spells!
Rude was the pile, that from th' impendingbrow
Of some steep rock upon the wave below
Oft look'd with fearful grandeur; loud the blast
Ray'd on its walls, and thro' its turrets past;
Chill were its sunless rooms, and drear the aisles
Along whose length the night breeze told her tales;
Massive the walls, thro' which the genial day
Strove with warm breath in vain to win its way:
But jocund was its hall; and gay the feast
That spoke the genuine gladness of the breast,
When rang'd its hospitable boards, along
The warlike bands renewid th' heroic song;
Or told wild tales, or drank with greedy car
Romantic ditties which the Minstrel-Seer
Tun'd to his harp, while, as with bolder fire
He threw his raptur'd hand across the wire,
With visions of new glory beam'd each eye,
And loud the gathering chorus rose on high; 60
Till shook the rafter'd roof, and every bound
Of the wide castle trembled with the sound.
Rough were the scenes, as was the master's mind,
Which Nature, bordering on th' abode, design'd;
Forests of age untold, whose unpierc'd wood
Ne'er to the labourer's echoing axe bad bow'd;
Soft lawns, which mid surrounding coverts spread,
By the wild tenants of the scene were fed ;
Deep dells, with fern and brake, and twisted thorn
Thick-matted, whence the hunter's shrill-ton'd horn 70
Started th' elastic deer, which, stung with fright,
Swift as the viewless winds, pursued their flight;
Loud torrents, rumbling as they win their course
Thro' fretted rocks and winding banks by force;
Or rills, that murmur'd music, as their race,
Thro' flowery vales, they ran with even pace.
When War's alarms no more around him rag'd, In sports amid these scenes the Chief engag’d; Sports, that became his hardy form !-When Light First 'gan to streak the flying mists of Night, 80 From bis rough couch he sprung; his bugle blew, And round him each impatient hunter drew; Then forth the steed of wondrous swiftness came, And thro' the woods he sought th' affrighted game; From morn to eve, woods, plains, and vales and hills With the loud echo of his voice he fills; No toil fatigues him, and no danger stays; Perils the zest of his amusement raise; I 2
Then home to gorgeous balls and blazing fires,
Weary, yet pleas'd with exercise, retires;
The feast is spread; the war-clad walls along
Rings the glad converse, and rebounding song;
And when again the sable-mantled Night
Far o'er the sky has urg'd her heavy flight,
On the bard bed his giant limbs he throws,
And sinks serenely into deep repose!
O age of luxury! O days of ease!
The restless, vigorous, soul ye ne'er can please!
Within your stagnant lakes Corruption breeds,
And on your flowers vile sensual Meanness feeds !
As when foul pests have gather'd in the sky
And o'er the globe the death-charg'd vapours fly,
Soon as the mighty Tempest drives his blasts,
And thro' the lurid gloom his lightning casts,
Vanish the congregated brood of ills,
And heath and sunshine all the landscape fills;
So, when wan Indolence and timid Joy,
The native spirit of the mind destroy,
And fiends of Hell, and sprites of loathsome Pain,
Self-love, Lust, Gluttony, and Hate, enchain;
The toilš of war, the battle's thundering storm
The sleepy current of the soul reform;
The loaded bosom purge, and bid it iame
With the pure throbbings of a generous fame,
And light with hope, and airy with the fire
Of blest Ambition, up to Heaven aspire !"#
On the effects of rural scenery.
"These are thy glorious works, Parent of good!"
Milt. Par. Lost,
The pride and vanity of man, in order to distinguish him from the inferior animals of the creation, instead of having recourse to that reason by which he alone was formed “after the image" and “in the likeness" of his Maker, has led him to imagine a thousand frivolous and trifling marks of difference. Hence one philosopher defines him to be a laughing, and another a weeping animal. One makes the chief criterion be- . tween him and brutes, to be that, he walks upon two legs and is not covered with feathers; and another, with an affectation of piety, that he walks upon two legs and looks up to heaven; “Os Hominis sublime dedit, cælumque tueri jussit.” One, that he is the most perfect of creatures; and another, that he is the most helpless. So that, in short, the most inconsiderable varieties of form and manners have served them as sufficient foundations on which to build the most important of all generic distinctions; although in reality a negro,
from under the equator, differs more in mere external appearance from a Greenlander, or an inhabitant of Terra del Fuego, than either of them docs from several other animals.
But though it may be very truly asserted, and few persons will now be disposed to contradict it, that the only real and certain difference between us and all other creatures, consists in the inestimable gift of reason; still this does not completely solve the difficulty; H 3