IN that foft feafon, when defcending (how'rs
Call forth the greens, and wake the rifing flow'rs;
When op'ning buds falute the welcome day,
And earth relenting feels the genial ray;
As baliny fleep had charm'd my cares to reft
And love itself was banifh'd from my breaft,
(What time the morn myfterious vifions brings,
While purer flumbers fpread their golden wings)
A train of phantours in wild order rofe,
And join'd, this intellectual fcene compofe.
I ftood, methougt, betwixt earth, feas, and skies; The whole creation open to my eyes:
VER. I. In that soft feafon, etc.) This Poem in introduced in the manner of the Provencial Poets, whofe works were for the moft part Visions, or pieces of imagination, and conftantly defcriptive. From thefe, Petrarch and Chaucer frequently borrow the idea of their poems. See the Trionf of the former, and the Dream, Flower and the Leaf, etc. of the latter. The Author of this therefore chofe the fame fort of Exordium.
VER. II. etc.) Thefe verfes are hinted from the following of
In air felf-balanc'd hung the globe below,
Where mountains rife and circling oceans flow;
Flere naked rocks, and empty waftes were seen,
There tow'ry cities, and the forefts green:
Here failing fhips delight the wand'ring eyes;
There trees, and intermingled temples rife;
Now a clear fun the fhining feene difplays,
The tranfient landfcape now in clouds decays.
O'er the wide Profpect as I gaz'd around,
Sudden heard wild permifcuous found,
Like broken thunders that at diftance roar,
Or billows muru'ring on the hollow fhore:
Then gazing up, a glorious pile beheld,
Whofe tow ring fummit ambient clouds conceal'd. ^ High on a rock of Ice the ftructure lay,
Steep its afcent, and flipp'ry was the way:
The wond'rous rock like Parian marble shone,
And seem'd to distant fight, of solid stone.
Infcriptions here of various Names I view'd,
The greater part by hoftile time fubdu'd;
Yet wide was spread their fame in ages paft,
And Poets once had promis'd they should last.
Some fresh engrav'd appear'd of Wits renown'd;
I look'd again, nor could their trace be found. 36
Critics I faw, that other names deface,
And fix their own, with labout, in their place:
Their own, like others, foon their place refign'd,
Or disappear'd, and left the first behind.
Nor was the work impair'd by storms alone,
But felt th' approaches of too warm a fun;
For Fame, impatient of extremes, decays
Not more by envy than excels of Praife.
VER. 31. Infcriptiens kere, etc.).
Tho faw I all the hill y grave
With famous folkes names fels,
That had been in much wele
And her fames wide y-blow;
But well unneth might I know,
Any letters for to rede
Ther names by, for out of drede
They weren almoft off-thawen fo,
That of the letters one. or two
Were molte away of every name,
So unfamous was woxe her fame;
But men faid, what may ever laft.
VER. 41. Nor was the work impair'd, etc.)
Tho gan I myne harte caft,
That they were moke away for heate,
And not away with ftormes beate.
Yet part no injuries of heav'n could feel,
Like crystal faithful to the graving steel:
The rock's high fummit, in the temple's fhade,
Nor heat could melt, nor beating storm invade.
Their names inscrib'd unnumber'd ages past
From time's first birth, with time itself shall laft; so
These ever new, nor subject to decays
Spread, and grow brighter with the length of days.
So Zembla's rocks (the beauteous work of frost)
Rife white in air, and glitter o'er the coaft!
Pale funs, unfelt, at diftance roll away,
And on th'impaffive ice the light'nings play;
Eternal snows the growing mafs fupply,
Till the bright mountains prop th'incumbent fky;
As Atlas fix'd, each hoary pile appears,
The gather'd winter of a thousand years,
On this foundation Fame's high temple ftands;
Stupendous pile! not rear'd by mortal hands.
VER. 45. Yet part no injuries, etc.)
For on that other fide I fey
Of that hill which northward ley,
How it was written full of names
Of folke, that had afore great fames.
Of old time, and yet they were
As fresh as men had written hem, there
The felf day, or that houre
That I on hem gan to poure:
But well I wifte what it made;
It was conferved with the shade
(All the writing that I fye)
Of the caftie that toode on high,
And flood eke in fo cold a place,,
That heate might it not deface.
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