But soon as Dan Apollo rose, He feels his back the less; With lusty livelyhed he talks, His story soon took wind; The story told, Sir Topaz moved, The youth of Edith erst approved, To see the revel scene: At close of eve he leaves his home, And wends to find the ruin'd dome All on the gloomy plain. As there he bides, it so befel, The wind came rustling down a dell, Up spring the tapers as before, But, certes, sorely sunk with woe, His spirits in him die : When Oberon cries, "A man is near, A mortal passion, cleped fear, Hangs flagging in the sky." With that Sir Topaz, hapless youth! To tread the circled haunt. "A losell vile," at once they roar ; "And little skill'd of fairy lore, Thy cause to come we know: Now has thy kestrel courage fell; And fairies, since a lie you tell, Are free to work thee woe." Then Will, who bears the wispy fire The revel now proceeds apace, They sit, they drink, and eat; The time with frolic mirth beguile, And poor Sir Topaz hangs the while Till all the rout retreat. By this the stars began to wink, They shriek, they fly, the tapers sink, Chill, dark, alɔne, adreed, he lay, Then deem'd the dole was o'er: This tale a Sybil-nurse ared; "Thus some are born, my son," she cries, "With base impediments to rise, And some are born with none. "But virtue can itself advance THE BOOK-WORM. COME hither, boy, we'll hunt to-day From leaf to leaf, from song to song, [* Never was the old manner of speaking more happily applied, or a tale better told, than this.-GOLDSMITH.] (Nay, never offer to deny, To pile a sacred altar here; Hold, boy, thy hand outruns thy wit, You reach'd the plays that Dennis writ ; You reach'd me Philips' rustic strain; Pray take your mortal bards again. Come, bind the victim,-there he lies, And here between his numerous eyes This venerable dust I lay, From manuscripts just swept away. The goblet in my hand I take, (For the libation 's yet to make,) A health to poets! all their days May they have bread, as well as praise ; Now bring the weapon, yonder blade, How like the son of Jove I stand, This Hydra stretch'd beneath my hand! Lay bare the monster's entrails here, To see what dangers threat the year: Ye gods! what sonnets on a wench ! What lean translations out of French! "Tis plain, this lobe is so unsound, Sprints before the months go round. But hold, before I close the scene, The sacred altar should be clean. Oh had I Shadwell's second bays, Or, Tate, thy pert and humble lays! (Ye pair, forgive me, when I vow I never miss'd your works till now,) I'd tear the leaves to wipe the shrine (That only way you please the Nine); But since I chance to want these two, I'll make the songs of Durfey do. Rent from the corpse, on yonder pin I hang the scales that braced it in ; I hang my studious morning-gown, And write my own inscription down. "This trophy from the Python won, This robe, in which the deed was done; These, Parnell, glorying in the feat, AN IMITATION OF SOME FRENCH VERSES. Unheard, unheeded, and unseen, My change arrives; the change I meet My spring, my years of pleasure fleet, In age I search, and only find My ignorance could once beguile, But now experience shows, the bliss And ardour of the thought. My youth met Fortune fair array'd, But when I saw the blessings shower I left the chase, and own'd the power I pass'd the glories which adorn My manhood felt a vigorous fire By love increased the more; But years with coming years conspire To break the chains I wore. In weakness safe, the sex I see With idle lustre shine; For what are all their joys to me, Which cannot now be mine? But hold-I feel my gout decrease, My troubles laid to rest, And truths which would disturb my peace Are painful truths at best. Vainly the time I have to roll In sad reflection flies; Ye fondling passions of my soul ! I wisely change the scene within, A NIGHT-PIECE ON DEATH. By the blue taper's trembling light, How deep yon azure dyes the sky! "Time was, like thee, they life possest, And time shall be, that thou shalt rest." Those with bending osier bound, That nameless have the crumbled ground, Quick to the glancing thought disclose, Where toil and poverty repose. The flat smooth stones that bear a name, The chisel's slender help to fame, (Which ere our set of friends decay, Their frequent steps may wear away,) A middle race of mortals own, The marble tombs that rise on high, Ha! while I gaze, pale Cynthia fades, And all with sober accent cry, Now from yon black and funeral yew, (Ye ravens, cease your croaking din, It sends a peal of hollow groans, When men my scythe and darts supply, Why then thy flowing sable stoles, Nor can the parted body know, [* The great fault of this piece is, that it is in eightsyllable lines, very improper for the solemnity of the subject; otherwise the poem is natural, and the reflections just.-GOLDSMITH.] THE HERMIT. FAR in a wild, unknown to public view, A life so sacred, such serene repose, So when a smooth expanse receives imprest To clear this doubt, to know the world by sight, The morn was wasted in the pathless grass, And long and lonesome was the wild to pass : But when the southern sun had warm'd the day, A youth came posting o'er a crossing way; His raiment decent, his complexion fair, And soft in graceful ringlets waved his hair. Then near approaching, Father, hail! he cried, And hail, my son, the reverend sire replied; Words follow'd words, from question answer flow'd, And talk of various kind deceived the road; Till each with other pleased, and loth to part, While in their age they differ, join in heart. Thus stands an aged elm in ivy bound, Thus youthful ivy clasps an elm around. Now sunk the sun; the closing hour of day Came onward, mantled o'er with sober grey; Nature in silence bid the world repose; When near the road a stately palace rose: There, by the moon, through ranks of trees they pass, Whose verdure crown'd their sloping sides of grass. It chanced the noble master of the dome Still made his house the wandering stranger's home: Yet still the kindness, from a thirst of praise, Proved the vain flourish of expensive ease. The pair arrive: the liveried servants wait; Their lord receives them at the pompous gate. The table groans with costly piles of food, And all is more than hospitably good. Then led to rest, the day's long toil they drown, Deep sunk in sleep, and silk, and heaps of down. At length 'tis morn, and at the dawn of day, Along the wide canals the zephyrs play: Fresh o'er the gay parterres the breezes creep, And shake the neighbouring wood to banish sleep. Up rise the guests, obedient to the call: An early banquet deck'd the splendid hall; Rich luscious wine a golden goblet graced, Which the kind master forced the guests to taste. Then, pleased and thankful, from the porch they go, And, but the landlord, none had cause of woe: His cup was vanish'd; for in secret guise The younger guest purloin'd the glittering prize. As one who spies a serpent in his way, Glistening and basking in the summer ray, Disorder'd stops to shun the danger near, Then walks with faintness on, and looks with fear; So seem'd the sire, when far upon the road, The shining spoil his wily partner show'd. He stopp'd with silence,walk'd with trembling heart, And much he wish'd, but durst not ask to part: Murmuring he lifts his eyes, and thinks it hard That generous actions meet a base reward. While thus they pass, the sun his glory shrouds, The changing skies hang out their sable clouds; A sound in air presaged approaching rain, And beasts to covert scud across the plain. Warn'd by the signs, the wandering pair retreat, To seek for shelter at a neighbouring seat. "Twas built with turrets, on a rising ground, And strong, and large, and unimproved around; It owner's temper, timorous and severe, Unkind and griping, caused a desert there. As near the miser's heavy doors they drew, When from his vest the young companion bore But now the clouds in airy tumult fly; The sun emerging opes an azure sky; A fresher green the smelling leaves display, And, glittering as they tremble, cheer the day: The weather courts them from the poor retreat, And the glad master bolts the wary gate. While hence they walk, the pilgrim's bosom wrought With all the travel of uncertain thought : His partner's acts without their cause appear, Now night's dim shades again involve the sky, Hither the walkers turn with weary feet, Then bless the masion, and the master greet: Their greeting fair, bestow'd with modest guise, The courteous master hears, and thus replies: Without a vain, without a grudging heart, To Him who gives us all, I yield a part; From him you come, for him accept it here, A frank and sober, more than costly cheer. He spoke, and bid the welcome table spread, Then talk of virtue till the time of bed, When the grave household round his hall repair, Warn'd by a bell, and close the hours with prayer. At length the world, renew'd by calm repose, Was strong for toil; the dappled morn arose ; Before the pilgrims part, the younger crept Near the closed cradle where an infant slept, And writhed his neck: the landlord's little pride (Ostrange return!) grew black, and gasp'd, and died. Horror of horrors! what, his only son! How look'd our hermit when the fact was done? Not hell, though hell's black jaws in sunder part, And breathe blue fire, could more assault his heart. Confused, and struck with silence at the deed, He flies, but trembling fails to fly with speed. His steps the youth pursues; the country lay Perplex'd with roads; a servant show'd the way: A river cross'd the path; the passage o'er Was nice to find; the servant trod before; Long arms of oaks an open bridge supplied, And deep the waves beneath the bending glide. The youth, who seem'd to watch a time to sin, Approach'd the careless guide, and thrust him in; Plunging he falls, and rising lifts his head, Then flashing turns, and sinks among the dead. Wild sparkling rage inflames the father's eyes; He bursts the bands of fear, and madly cries, Detested wretch!-But scarce his speech began, When the strange partner seem'd no longer man: His youthful face grew more serenely sweet; Though loud at first the pilgrim's passion grew, Thy prayer, thy praise, thy life to vice unknown, In sweet memorial rise before the throne : These charms success in our bright region find, And force an angel down to calm thy mind; For this, commission'd, I forsook the sky; Nay, cease to kneel-thy fellow-servant I. Then know the truth of government divine, The Maker justly claims that world he made, What strange events can strike with more Than those which lately struck thy wondering eyes? Yet, taught by these, confess th' Almighty just, And where you can't unriddle, learn to trust ! The great, vain man, who fared on costly food, Whose life was too luxurious to be goodWho made his ivory stands with goblets shine, And forced his guests to morning draughts of wine, Has, with the cup, the graceless custom lost, And still he welcomes, but with less of cost. The mean, suspicious wretch, whose bolted door Ne'er moved in duty to the wandering poor; With him I left the cup, to teach his mind That Heaven can bless, if mortals will be kind. Conscious of wanting worth, he views the bowl, And feels compassion touch his grateful soul. Thus artists melt the sullen ore of lead, With heaping coals of fire upon its head; In the kind warmth the metal learns to glow, And loose from dross the silver runs below. Long had our pious friend in virtue trod, But now the child half wean'd his heart from God; (Child of his age) for him he lived in pain, And measured back his steps to earth again. To what excesses had his dotage run! But God, to save the father, took the son. |