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Her unctuous olives, and her purple vines,
(Unfelt the fury of those bursting mines.)
The peasant's hopes, and not in vain, assurd,
In peace upon her sloping sides matur'd.
When on a day, like that of the last doom,
A conflagration lab'ring in her womb,
She teem'd and heav'd with an infernal birth, Sought, with an indignant mien,
That shook the circling seas and solid earth.
Dark and voluminous the vapors rise,
And hang their horrors in the neighb'ring skies, Sat the Druid, hoary chief;
While through the Stygian veil, that blots the day,
In dazzling streaks the vivid lightnings play. Ev'ry burning word he spoke
But oh! what muse, and in what pow'rs of song, Full of rage, and full of grief.
Can trace the torrent as it burns along? “Princess! if our aged eyes
Havoc and devastation in the van,
It marches o'er the prostrate works of man, "Tis because resentment ties
Vines, olives, herbage, forests disappear,
And all the charms of a Sicilian year.
Revolving seasons, fruitless as they pass, “Rome shall perish---write that word
See it an uninform'd and idle mass;
Without a soil t'invite the tiller's care,
Or blade, that might redeem it from despair.
Yet time at length (what will not time achieve !)
Clothes it with earth, and bids the produce live. “ Rome, for empire far renown'd,
Once more the spiry myrtle crowns the glade, Tramples on a thousand states;
And ruminating flocks enjoy the shade.
O bliss precarious, and unsafe retreats,
O charming Paradise of short-liv'd sweets!
The self-same gale, that wasts the fragrance round “Other Romans shall arise,
Brings to the distant ear a sullen sound:
Again the mountain feels th' imprison'd foe,
Again pours ruin on the vale below.
Ten thousand swains the wasted scene deplore, Harmony the path to fame.
That only future ages can restore. " Then the progeny that springs
Ye monarchs, whom the lure of honor draws,
Who write in blood the merits of your cause, From the forests of our land, Armd with thunder, clad with wings,
Who strike the blow, then plead your own defence Shall a wider world command.
Glory your aim, but justice your pretence ;
Behold in Etna's emblematic fires "Regions Cæsar never knew
The mischiefs your ambitious pride inspires! Thy posterity shall sway;
Fast by the stream, that bounds your just domain Where his eagles never flew,
And tells you where ye have a right to reign, None invincible as they."
A nation dwells, not envious of your throne,
Studious of peace, their neighbors', and their own Such the bard's prophetic words,
Ill-fated race! how deeply must they rue
Their only crime, vicinity to you!
The trumpet sounds, your legions swarm abroad, Of his sweet but awful lyre.
Through the ripe harvest lies their destin'd road;
At every step beneath their feet they tread
The life of multitudes, a nation's bread!
Earth seems a garden in its loveliest dress
Before them, and behind a wilderness.
Famine, and Pestilence, her first-born son,
Attend to finish what the sword begun; “Ruffians, pitiless as proud,
And echoing praises, such as fiends might earn Heav'n awards the vengeance due; And Folly pays, resound at your return. Empire is on us bestow'd,
A calm succeeds—but Plenty, with her train
Of heart-felt joys, succeeds not soon again,
Yet man, laborious man, by slow degrees,
(Such is his thirst of opulence and ease.) HEROISM.
Plies all the sinews of industrious toil,
Gleans up the refuse of the gen'ral spoil, THERE was a time when Ætna's silent fire Rebuilds the tow'rs, that smok'd upon the plain, Slept unperceiv'd, the mountain yet entire ; And the Sun gilds the shining spires again. When, conscious of no danger from below,
Increasing commerce and reviving art She tower'd a cloud-capt pyramid of snow. Renew the quarrel on the conqu’ror's part; No thunders shook with deep intestine sound And the sad lesson must be learn'd once more, The blooming groves, that girdled her around. That wealth within is ruin at the door.
What are ye, monarchs, laureld heroes, say, Delighted with my bauble coach, and wrapp'd
That mem'ry keeps of all thy kindness there,
Thy nightly visits to my chamber made, No crested warrior dips his plume in blood ; That thou might'st know me safe and warmly laid ; Where Pow'r secures what Industry has won; Thy morning bounties ere I left my home, Where to succeed is not to he undone;
The biscuit, or confectionary plum; A land, that distant tyrants hate in vain,
The fragrant waters on my cheeks bestow'd
All this, and more endearing still than all,
Ne'er roughen'd by those cataracts and breaks, ON THE RECEIPT OF MY MOTHER'S PICTURE
That humor interpos'd too often makes;
All this still legible in mem'ry's page,
And still to be so to my latest age,
Adds joy to duty, makes me glad to pay
Perhaps a frail memorial, but sincere,
Could Time, his flight revers’d, restore the hours Voice only fails, else how distinct they say, When, playing with thy vesture's tissued flow's, “Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away!" The violet, the pink, and jessamine, The meek intelligence of those dear eyes
I prick'd them into paper with a pin, (Blest be the art that can immortalize,
(And thou wast happier than myself the while, The art that bases Time's tyrannic claim
Wouldst sofily speak, and stroke my head, and smile;) To quench it,) here shines on me still the same. Could those few pleasant days again appear, Faithful remembrancer of one so dear,
Might one wish bring them, would I wish them here? O welcome guest, though unexpected here ! I would not trust my heart—the dear delight Who bidd'st mc honor with an artless song, Seems so to be desir'd, perhaps I might.Affectionate, a mother lost so long.
But no—what here we call our life is such, I will obey, not willingly alone,
So little to be lov'd, and thou so much, But gladly, as the precept were her own: That I should ill requite thee to constrain And, while that face renews my filial grief, Thy unbound spirit into bonds again. Fancy shall weave a charm for my relief,
Thou, as a gallant bark from Albion's coast Shall steep me in Elysian reverie,
(The storms all weather'd and the ocean cross'd) A momentary dream that thou art she.
Shoots into port at some well-haven'd isle, My mother! when I learn'd that thou wast dead, where spices breathe, and brighter seasons smile, Say, wast thou conscious of the tears I shed ?
There sits quiescent on the floods, that show Hover'd thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son,
Her beauteous form reflected clear below, Wretch even then, life's journey just begun ? While airs impregnated with incense play Perhaps thou gav'st me, though unfelt, a kiss ; Around her, fanning light her streamers gay; Perhaps a lear, if souls can weep in bliss— So thou, with sails how swift! hast reach'd the shore, Ah, that maternal smile! it answers-Yes.
" Where tempests never beat, nor billows roar,"* I heard the bell tolld on thy burial day,
And thy lov'd consort on the dang'rous tide
Always from port withheld, always distress':-
That thought is joy, arrive what may to me. What ardently I wish'd, I long believ'd,
My boast is not, that I deduce my birth And, disappointed still, was still deceiv'd.
From loins enthron'd, and rulers of the Earth; By expectation ev'ry day beguild,
But higher far my proud pretensions riseDupe of tomorrow even from a child.
The son of parents pass'd into the skies. Thus many a sad to-morrow came and went And now, farewell-Time unrevok'd has run Till, all my stock of infant-sorrow spent,
His wonted course, yet what I wish'd is done. I learn'd at last submission to my lot,
By contemplation's help, not sought in vain, But, though I less deplor'd thee, ne'er forgot. I seem t'have liv'd my childhood o'er again ;
Where once we dwelt our name is heard no more, To have renew'd the joys that once were mine, Children not thine have trod my nurs'ry floor; Without the sin of violating thine ; And where the gard'ner Robin, day by day, Drew me to school along the public way,
As envy pines at good possess'd,
On good, that seems approaching; And, if success his steps attend, Discerns a rival in a friend,
And hates him for encroaching.
Hence authors of illustrious name, Unless belied by common fame,
Are sadly prone to quarrel, To deem the wit a friend displays A tax upon their own just praise,
And pluck each other's laurel.
A man renown'd for repartee
With friendship's finest feeling ; Will thrust a dagger at your breast, And say he wounded you in jest,
By way of balm for healing.
Candid, and generous, and just,
An error soon corrected
Is most to be suspected ?
And taken trash for treasure,
A mere Utopian pleasure.
Nor is it wise complaining,
We sought without attaining.
Or mean self-love erected; Nor such as may awhile subsist, Between the soi and sensualist,
For vicious ends connected. Who seek a friend should come dispos'd, T' exhibit in full bloom disclos'd
The graces and the beauties,
And constantly supported :
Our own as much distorted.
Whoever keeps an open ear
The trumpet of contention ; Aspersion is the babbler's trade, To listen is to lend him aid,
And rush into dissension.
A friendship, that in frequent fits
The sparks of disputation,
The thought of conflagration.
Some fickle creatures boast a soul
Their humor yet so various-
Their love is so precarious.
The great and small but rarely meet
Plebeians must surrender,
Obscurity with splendor.
As similarity of mind,
First fixes our attention ;
Must save it from declension.
Some are so placid and serene,
They sleep secure from waking; And are indeed a bog, that bears Your unparticipated cares,
Unmov'd and without quaking.
Courtier and patriot cannot mix
Without an effervescence,
A friendly coalescence.
Religion should extinguish strife,
But friends that chance to differ
No combatants are stiffer.
Some act upon this prudent plan,
Safe policy, but hateful-
Unpleasant and ungrateful.
No subterfuge or pleading
A spy on my proceeding.
Of evils yet unmention'd-
To be at least expedient,
A principal ingredient.
Though some have turn'd and turn'd it
Have not, it seems, disceru'd it.
To mortify and grieve me,
Or may my friend deceive me.
To prove at last my main intent
No cutting and contriving-
With still less hope of thriving.
Sometimes the fault is all our own, Some blemish in due time made known,
By trespass or omission ; Sometimes occasion brings to light Our friend's defect long hid from sight,
And even from suspicion.
Then judge yourself and prove your man As circumspectly as you can,
And, having made election, Beware no negligence of yours, Such as a friend but ill endures,
Enfeeble his affection.
Chat secrets are a sacred trust,
That constancy befits them,
And all the world admits them.
studiis florens ignobilis oti.
Virg. Georg p. iv.
But 'tis not timber, lead, and stone, An architect requires alone,
To finish a fine buildingThe palace were but half complete, If he could possibly forget
The carving and the gilding.
HACKNEY'D in business, wearied at that oar
Which thousands, once fast chain’d to, quit no more
And add a smile to what was sweet before,
The man that hails you Tom or Jack,
How he esteems your merit,
To pardon or to bear it.
Thus Conscience pleads her cause within the breast, At such a sight to catch the poet's flame,
“ These are thy glorious works, thou source of good
This universal frame, thus wondrous fair; From cities humming with a restless crowd, Thy pow'r divine, and bounty beyond thought, Sordid as active, ignorant as loud,
Ador'd and prais'd in all that thou hast wrought.
I may resemble thee, and call thee mine."
The recompense that arts or arms can yield,
The bar, the senate, or the tented field, True wisdom will attend his feeble call,
Compar'd with this sublimest life below, And grace his action ere the curtain fall.
Ye kings and rulers, what have courts to show? Souls, that have long despis'd their heav'nly birth, Thus studied, us’d and consecrated thus, Their wishes all impregnated with Earth,
On Earth what is, seems form'd indeed for us. For threescore years employ'd with ceaseless care Not as the plaything of a froward child, In catching smoke and feeding upon air,
Fretful unless diverted and beguild, Conversant only with the ways of man,
Much less to feed and fan the fatal fires Rarely redeem the short remaining ten.
Of pride, ambition, or impure desires, Invet'rale habits choke th' unfruitful heart, But as a scale, by which the soul ascends Their fibres penetrate its tend'rest part,
From mighty means to more important ends, And, draining its nutritious pow’rs to feed
Securely, though by steps but rarely frod, Their noxious growih, starve ev'ry better seed. Mounts from inferior beings up to God, Happy, is full of days—but happier far,
And sees, by no sallacious light or dim, If, ere we yet discern life's ev’ning-star,
Earth made for man, and man himself for him. Sick of the service of a world, that feeds
Not that I mean t'approve, or would enforce Its patient drudges with dry chaff and weeds, A superstitious and monastic course : We can escape from Custom's idiot sway,
Truth is not local, God alike pervades To serve the Sov'reign we were born t' obey. And fills the world of traffic and the shades, Then sweet to muse upon his skill display'd And may be fear'd amidst the busiest scenes, (Infinite skills in all tha: he has made !
Or scorn'd where business never intervenes.
But 'tis not easy, with a mind like ours,
And in a world, where, other ills apart,
The roving eye misleads the careless heart, The shapely limb and lubricated joint,
To limit thought, by nature prone to stray Within the small dimensions of a point,
Wherever freakish fancy points the way; Muscle and nerve miraculously spun,
To bid the pleadings of Self-love be still, His mighty work, who speaks and it is done, Resign our own, and seek our Maker's will ; Th' invisible in things scarce seen reveal'd, To spread the page of Scripture, and compare To whom an atom is an ample field ;
Our conduct with the laws engraven there ; To wonder at a thousand insect forms,
To measure all that passes in the breast, These hatcb'd and those resuscitated worms, Faithfully, fairly, by that sacred test; New lise ordaind and brighter scenes to share, To dive into the secret deeps within, Once prone on earth, now buoyant upon air, To spare no passion and no fav’rite sin, Whose shape would make them, had they bulk and size, And search the themes, important above all, More hideous foes than fancy can devise ; Ourselves, and our recov'ry from our fall. With helmet-heads, and dragon-scales adorn'd, But leisure, silence, and a mind releas'd The mighty myriads, now securely scorn'd, From anxious thoughts how wealth may be increasy Would mock the majesty of man's high birth, How to secure in some propitious hour, Despise his bulwarks, and unpeople earth : The point of int’rest, or the post of pow's, Then with a glance of fancy to survey,
A soul serene, and equally retir'd Far as the faculty can stretch away,
From objects too much dreaded or desir'd, Ten thousand rivers pour d at his command Safe from the clamors of perverse dispute, From urns, that never fail, through ev'ry land ; At least are friendly to the great pursuit. These like a deluge with impetuous force,
Op'ning the map of God's extensive plan, Those winding modestly a silent course;
We find a little isle this life of man; The cloud-surmounting Alps, the fruitful vales; Eternity's unknown expanse appears Seas, on which ev'ry nation spreads her sails ; Circling around and limiting his years. The Sun, a world whence other worlds drink light, The busy race examine and explore The crescent Moon, the diadem of night;
Each creek and cavern of the dang'rous shore, Stars countless, each in his appointed place, With care collect what in their eyes excels, Fast anchor'd in the deep abyss of space
Some shining pebbles, and some weeds and shell