« EelmineJätka »
Who rises, cool, serene, and full of soul. Albion the poison of the gods has drank,
While, for which tyrant England should receive,
With kindred blood by kindred hands profus'd: Slow as the stealing progress of the year.
Another plague of more gigantic arm Observe the circling year. How unperceiv'd Arose, a monster, never known before, Her seasons change! Behold! by slow degrees, Reard from Cocytus its portentous bead. S:ern Winter tam'd into a ruder Spring; This rapid fury not, like other pests, The ripen'd Spring a milder Summer's glows; Pursu'd a gradual course, but in a day The parting Sumner sheds Pomona's store, Rush'd as a storm o'er half the astonish'd isle, And aged Autumn brews the winter storm. And strew'd with sudden carcases the land. Slow as they come, these changes come not void First, through the shoulders, of whatever part Of mortal shocks: the cold and torrid reigns, Was seiz'd the first, a fervid vapour spron. The two great periods of the important year, With rash combustion thence, the quiverius Are in their first approaches seldom safe; Shot to the heart, and kindled all within; (mma Funeral Autumn all the sickly dread;
And soon the surface caught the spreading fires, And the black fates deform the lovely Spring. Through all the yielded pores, the melted blad He well advis'd who taught our wiser sires Gush'd out in smoky sweats; but noughi asEarly to borrow Muscovy's warm spoils,
suag'd Ere the first frost has touch'd the tender blade; The torrid heat within, nor onght relier'd And late resign them, though the wanton Spring The stomach's anguish. With incessant tuil, Should deck her charms with all her sister's Desperate of ease, impatient of their pain, rays.
"They toys'd from side to side. In vain the stream For while the effluence of the skin maintains Ran full and clear, they burnt and thirsted still. Its native measure, the pleuritic Spring The restless arteries with rapid blood Glides harmless by; and Autumn, sick to death Beat strovg and frequent. Thick and pantingly With sallow quartans, no contagion breathes. The breath was fetch'd, and with huge lab'rings I in prophetic numbers could unfold
heavd. The omens of the year: what seasons teem At last a heavy pain oppress'd the head, With what diseases; what the humid South A wild delirium came; their weeping friends Prepares, and what the demon of the East : Were strangers now, aud this po home of theirs, But you perhaps refuse the tedious song,
Harass’d with toil on toil, the sinking powers Besides, whatever plagues in neat, or cold, Lay prostrate and o'erthrown; a ponderous sleep Or drought, or moisture dwell, they hurt not you, Wrapt all the senses up: they slept and died. Skill'd to correct the vices of the sky,
In some a gentle borrour crept at first And taught already how to each extreme Q'er all the limbs; the sluices of the skin To bend your life. But should the public bane Withheld their moisture, till by art provok'd Infect you ; or some trespass of your own, The sweats o'erflow'd; but in a clammy tide : Or ftaw of nature, biot mortality;
Now free and copious, now restrain'd and slue; Soon as a not unpleasing horrour glides
Of tinctures various, as the temperature Along the spine, through all your torpid Jimbs; Had mix'd the blood; and rank with feuid steams • When first the head throbs, or the stomach feels As if the pent-up humours by delay A sickly Inad, a weary pain the loins;
Were grown more fell, more putrid, and maliga. Be Celsus call's: the fates come rushing on; Here lay their hopes (tho little bope remaind) The rapid fates admit of no delay.
With full effusion of perpetual sweats While wilful you, and fatally secure,
To drive the venom out. And bere the fates Expect to morrow's more auspicious sun, Were kind, that long they linger'd not in pain ; The growing pest, whose infancy was weak For who surviv'd the Sun's diurnal race And easy vanquisid, with triumphant sway Rose from the dreary gates of Hell redeem's : O'erpow'rs your life. For want of timely care, Some the sixth hour oppress'd, and some the Millions have died of medicable wounds.
third. Ah ! in what perils is vain life engag'd! of many thousands few untainted 'scap'd; What slight neglects, what trivial faults destroy of those infected fewer 'scap'd alite: The hardiest frame! of indolence, of toil, of those who liv'd some felt a second blow; We die; of want, of superfinity:
And whom the second spar'd a third destroy'd. The all-surrounding Heaven, the vital air, Frantic with fear, they sought by flight to shun Is big with death. And, though the putrid The fierce contagion. O'er the mournful land Be shut; though no convulsive agony (South Th’infected city poor'd her hurrying swarms: Shake, from the deep foundations of the world, Rous'd by the fiames that fir'd her seats around, Th'imprison'd plagues; a secret venom oft Th’infected country rush'd into the town. Corrupts the air, the water, and the land. Some, sad at home, and in the desert some, What livid deaths bas sad Byzantium seen! Abjur'd the fatal commerce of mankind : How oft has Cairo, with a mother's woe, In vain : where'er they fled, the fates pursu'd. Wept o'er her slaughter'd sons and lonely streets! Others, with hopes more specious, cross'd the Even Albiou, girl with less malignant skies,
To seek protection in far distant skies ;
Wields at its will the dull material world,
By its own toil the gross corporeal frame Was then at enmity with English blood.
Fatigues, extenuates, or destroys itself. For, but the race of England, all were safe Nor less the labours of the mind corrode In foreign elimes; nor did this fury taste The solid fabric: for by subtle parts The foreign blood which England then contain'd. And viewiess atoms, secret Nature moves Where should they fly? The circumnambjent The mighty wheels of this stupendous world. Heaven
By subtle Auids pour'd through subtle tubes Involv'd them still; and every breeze was bane. The natural vital functions are perform’d. Where find relief? The salutary art
By these the stubborn aliments are tam'd; Was mute; and, startled at the new disease, The toiling heart distributes life and strength ; In fearful whispers hopeless omens gave. These the still-crumbling frame rebuild; and To Heaven with suppliant rites they sent their
Are lost in thinking, and dissolve in air. Heav'n heard them not. Of every hope depriv'd; But 'tis not thought, (for still the soul's emFatigued with vain resources; and subdued
ployd) With woes resistless and enfeebling fear; 'Tis pamful thinking that corrodes our clay. Passive they sunk beneath the weighty blow. All day the vacant eye without fatigae Nothing but lamentable sounds was heard, Strays o'er the Heaven and Earth ; but long inNor aught was seen but ghastly views of death.
tent Infectious horrour ran from face to face,
On microscopic arts, its vigour fails. And pale despair. 'Twas all the business then Just so the mind, with various thought amus'd, To tend the sick, and in their turns to die. Nor aches itself, nor gives the body pain. In heaps they fell : and oft one bed, they say, Bnt anxious study, discontent, and care, The sick’ning, dying, and the dead contain'd. Love without hope, and hate without revenge,
Ye guardian gods, on whom the fates depend And fear, and jealousy, fatigue the soul, Of tottering Albion ! ye eternal fires
Engross the subile ministers of life, That lead thro' Heav'n the wandering year ! ye And spoil the lab'ring functions of their share, powers
Hence the lean gloom that melancholy wears ; That o'er th' encircling elements preside! The lover's paleness; and the sallow bue May nothing worse than what this age has seen Of envy, jealousy; the meagre stare Arrive! Enough abroad, enough at home Of sore revenge: the canker'd body hence Has Albion bled. Here a distemper'd heaven Betrays each fretful motion of the mind. Has thin'd her cities, from those lofty cliffs The strong-built pedant, who both night and That awe proud Gaul, to Thulé's wintry reign;
day While in the west, beyond the Atlantic foam, Feeds on the coarsest fare the schools bestow, Her bravest sons, keen for the fight, have dy'd And crudely fattens at gross Burman's stall; The death of cowards and of common men: O’erwhelm'd with phlegm lies in a dropsy drown'd, Sunk void of wounds, and fall’n without renown. Or sinks in lethargy before bis time.
But from these views the weeping Muses turn, Wiih useful studies you, and arts that please And other themes invite my wandering song. Employ your mind; amuse, but not fatigue.
Peace to each drowsy metapbysic sage!
Yet some there are, even of elastic parts,
Tbro'all the rugged roads of barren lore,
And gives to relish what their generous taste BOOK IV. THE PASSIONS.
Would else refuse. But may not thirst of fame,
Nor love of knowledge, urge you to fatigue The choice of aliment, the choice of air,
With constant drudgery the liberal soul. The use of toil, and all external things,
Toy with your books : and, as the various fits Already sung; it now remains to trace
of humour seize you, from philosophy What good, what evil, from ourselves proceeds: To fable shift : from serious Antonine And how the subtle principle within
To Rabelais' ravings, and from prose to song. Inspires with health, or mines with strange decay While reading pleases, but no longer, read; The passive body. Ye poetic shades
And read aloud resounding Homer's strain, Who know the secrets of the world unseen, And wield the thunder of Demosthenes. Assist my song ! for, in a doubtful theme The chest so exercis'd improves its strength; Engag'd, I wander thro' mysterious ways, And quick vibrations through the bowels drive There is, they say, (and I believe there is)
The restless blood, which in unactive days A spark within us of th' immortal fire,
Would loiter else thro' unelastic tubes. That animates and moulds the grosser frame;
Deem it not trifling while I recommend And wben the body sinks, escapes to Heaven, What posture suits: to stand and sit by turns, Its native seat, and mixes with the gods.
As nature prompts, is best. But o'er your Meanwhile this heavenly particle pervades
leaves The mortal elements; in every nerve
To lean for ever, cramps the vital parts,' İl thrills with pleasure, or grows mad with pain. And robs the fine machinery of its play. And, in its secret conclave, as it feels
'Tis the great art of life to manage well The body's woes and joys, this ruling power The restless mind. For ever on pursuit
of knowledge bent, it starres the grosser powers: | Your sad complaint. Go, seek the cheerful baunts
Where war grows hot; and, raging thro' the sky, The cheerful face of Nature: Earth becomes The loftv trumpet swells the madd’ning soul: A dreary desert, and Heaven frowns above. And in the hardy camp and tuilsome march Then various shapes of cursid illusion rise: Forget all softer and less maply cares. Whate'er the wretched fears, creating tear But most, tuo passive when the blood runs Forms out of nothing, and with monsters teems
low, Unknown in Hell. The prostrate soul beneath Too weakly indolent to strive with pain, A load of huge imagination heaves;
And bravely by resisting conquer fate, And all the harronrs that the murderer feels Try Circe's arts; and in the tempting bowl With anxious Mutterings wake the guiltless Of poison'd nectar sweet oblivion swill. [soires breast.
Struck by the powerful charm, the gloom dis. Such phantoms pride in solitary scenes, In empty air, Elysium opens round, Or fear, or delicate self-love creates.
A pleasing phrenzy buoys the lighten'd soul, From other cares absolv'd, the busy mind And sanguine hopes dispel your fleeting care ; Finds in yourself a theme to pore upon;
And what was dilticult, and what was dire, It finds you miserable, or makes you so.
Yields to your prowess and superior stars: For while yourself you anxionsly explore, The happiest you of all that e'er were mad, Timorous self-love, with sick’ning fancy's aid; Or are, or shall be, could this fully last. Presents the danger that you dread the most, But soon your Heaven'is gone; a heavier gloom And ever galls you in your tender part.
Shuts o'er your head : and as the thund'ring Hence some for love, and some for jealonsy,
stream, For grim religion some, and some for pride, Swoln o'er its banks with sudden mountain rain, Have lost their reason: some for fear of want Sinks from its tumult to a silent brook; Want all their lives ; and others every day So, when the frantic raptures in your breast For fcar of dying suffer worse than death. Subside, you languish into mortal man ; Ah ! from your bosoms banish if you can You sleep, and waking find yourself undone. Those fatal guests; and first the demon Fear, For, prodigal of life, in one rash night That trembles at impossible events;
You larish'd more than might support three days. Lost aged Atlas should resign bis load,
A beavy morning comes ; your cares return And Heaven's eternal battlements rush down. With tenfold rage. An anxious stomach well Is there an evil worse than fear itself?
May be endur'd; so may tbe throbbing head : And what avails it that indulgent Heaven
But such a dim delirium, such a dream, From mortaleyes has wrapt the woes to come, Involves you; such a dastardly despair If we, ingenious to torment ourselves,
Unmans your soul, as madd'oing Pentheus felt, Grow pale at hideous fictions of our own?
When, baited round Cytheron's cruel sides Enjoy the present: nor with needless cares, He saw two sons, and double Thebes ascend. Of what may spring from blind misfortune's You curse the sluggish port; you curse the womb,
wretch, Appal the surest hour that life bestows.
The felon, with unpatural mixture first Serene, and master of yourself, prepare
Who dar'd to violate the virgin wine. For what may come; and leave the rest to Hea- Or on the fugitive champaign you pour
A thousand curses; for to Heav'n it wrapt Oft from the body, by long ails mis-tun'd, Your soul, to plunge you deeper in despair. These evils sprung, the most important health, Perhaps you rue even that diviner gift, That of the mind, destroy: and when the mind The gay, serene, gcod-natur'd Burgundy, They first invade, the conscious body soon Or the fresh fragrant vintage of the Rhine: In sympathetic languishment declines.
And wish that Heaven from mortals had withheld These chronic passions, while from real woes The grape, and all intosicaiing bowls. They rise, and yet without the body's fault
Besides, it wounds you sore to recollect Infest the soul, admit one only cure;
What follies in your loose unguarded hour Diversion, burry, and a restless life.
Escap'd. For one irrevocable word, Vain are the consolations of the wise;
Perhaps that meant no harm, you lose a friend. In rain your friends would reason down your Or in the rage of wine your has y haud pain
Performs a deed to haunt you to the grave. O ye, whose souls relentless love has tam'd Add that your means, your health, your parts, To soft distress, or friends untimely falln!
decay; Court not the luxury of tender thought ; Your friends avoid you ; brutishlr transformid, Nor deem it impious to forget those pains They hardly know you ; or if one rentains That hurt the living, nought avail the dead. To wish you weil, he wishes you in Heaven. G», sofi enibusiast ! quit the cypress groves, Despis’d, unwept you fall; who might bare left Nor to the rivulet's lonely moaninys tune
A sacred cherislid, sadly-pleasing name;
A name still to be atter'd with a sigh.
“ Virtue, the strength and beauty of the soul, Your last ungraceful scene has quite effac'd Is the best gift of Heaven: a happiness All sense and memory of your former worth. That even above the smiles and frowns of fate
How to live happiest ? how avoid the pains, Exalts great Nature's favourites; a wealth The disappointments, and disgusts of those That ne'er encumbers, por can be transferr'd. Who would in pleasure all their hours emplog ; Riches are oft by guilt and baseness earn'd; The precepts here of a divine old man
Or dealt by chance to shield a lucky knave, I could recite. Tho' old, he still retain'd
Or throw a cruel sunshine on a fool. His manly sense, and energy of mind.
But for one end, one much-neglected use, Virtuous and wise he was, but not severe; Are riches worth your care; (for nature's wants He still remember'd that he once was young; Are few, and without opulence supply'd ;) His casy presence check':l no lecent joy.
This noble end is, to produce the soul; Him even the dissolute admir'd; for be
To show the virtues in their fairest light; A graceful looseness when he pleas'd put on, To make bumanity the minister And laughing could instruct. Much had he read, Of bounteous Providence; and teach the breast Much more had seen: he studied from the life, That generous luxury the gods enjoy.” And in th'origigal.erus'd mankind.
Thus, in his graver vein, the friendly sage Vers'd in the woes and vanities of life,
Sometimes declaim'd. Of right and wrong he He pitied man: and much he pitied those
taught Whom falsely-smiling fate has curs'd with Truths as refin'd as ever Athens heard ; means
And (strange to tell!) le practis'd what he To dissipate their days in quest of joy.
preach'd. “ Our aim is happiness; 'tis yours, 'tis mine," Skill'd in the passions, how to check their sway, He said, “'tis the pursuit of all that live: He knew, as far as reason can control Yet few attain it, if 'twas ere attain'd.
The lawless powers. But other cares are mine : But they the widest wander from the mark, Form'd in the school of Pæon, I relate Who thro' the flowery paths of sauntering joy What passions hurt the body, what improve : Seek this coy goddess : that from stage to stage Avoid them, or invite them as you may. Invites us siill, but shifts as we pursue.
Know then, whatever cheerful and serene Por, not to name the pains that pleasure brings Supports the mind, supports the body too. To connterpoise itself, relentless fate
Hence, the most vital movement mortals feel Forbids that we thro'gay voluptuous wilds Is hope: the balm and life-blood of the soul. Should ever roam: and were the fates more kind, It pleases, and it lasts. Indulgent Heaven Our narrow luxuries would soon grow stale: Sent down the kind delusion, through the paths Were these exhaustle: s, nature would grow sick, | Of rugged life to lead us patient on; And, cloy'd with pleasure, squeamishly complain And make our happiest state no tedious thing. That all is vanity, and life a dream.
Our greatest good, and what we least can spare, Let nature rest : be busy for yourself,
Is hope: the last of all our evils, fear. And for your friend; be busy even in vain,
But there are passions grateful to the breast, Rather than tease her sated appetites.
And yet no friends to life : perhaps they please Who never fasts, no banquet e'er enjoys; Or to excess, and dissipate the soul; Who never toils or watches, never sleeps. Or while they please, torment. The stubborn Let nature rest : and when the taste of joy
clown, Giows keen, indulge; but shun satiety.
The ill-tam'd ruffian, and pale usurer, " "Tis not for mortals always to be blest. (If love's omnipotence such hearts can mould) But him the least the dull or painful hours May safely mellow into love; and grow Of life oppress, whom sober sense couducts, Relin'd, humane, and generous, if they can. And virtue, thro' this labyrinth we tread. Love in such bosoms never to a fault Virtue and sepse I mean not to disjoin ;
Or pains or pleases. But ye finer souls, Virtue and sense are one : and, trust me, still Form'd to sofi luxury, and prompt to thrill A faithless heart betrays the head unsound. With all the tumults, all the joys and pains, Virtue (for mere good-nature is a fool)
That beauty gives; with caution and reserve Is sense and spirit with humanity :
Indulge the sweet destroyer of repose, 'Tis sometimes angry, and its frown confounds; Nor court too much the queen of charming cares. 'Tis even viudictive, but in vengeance just. For, while the cherish'd poison in your breast Koaves fain would laugh at it; some great ones Ferments and maddens ; sick with jealousy, dare;
Absence, distrust, or even with anxious joy,
And waste your youth in musing. Musing first The gawdy gloss of fortune only strikes
Toy'd into care your unsuspecting heart :
Which musing daily strengthens and improves
Thro' all the heights of fondness and romance : And shakes to ruins proud philosophy.
Desperate, and arm'd with more than human Each manly virtue, and grows dead to farne.
strength. Sweet Heaven, from such intoxicating charms How soon the calm, humane, and polish'd man Defend all worthy breasts ! pot that I deem Forgets compunction, and starts up a fiend! Love always dangerous, always to be shund'd. Who pines in love, or wastes with silent cares, Love well repaid, and not too weakly sunk Envy, or ignotniny, or tender grief, In wanton and unmanly tenderness,
Slowly descends, and lipg'ring, to the shades:
Or a fierce fever hurries him to Hell.
As is the passion, such is still the pain Conerves the body and unmans the soul. The body feels: or chronic, or acute. And some have died for love; and some run And oft a sudden storm at once o’erpowers mad;
The life, or gives your reason to tbe winds. And some with desperate hands themselves have such fates attend the rash alarm of fear, slain.
And sudden grief, and rage, and sudden joy. Some to extinguish, others to prevent,
There are, meantime, to whom the boistrous A mad devotion to one dangerous fair,
Is health, and only fills the sails of life. [Qt Court all they meet ; in hopes to dissipate For where the mind a torpid winter leads, The cares of love amongst an hundred brides. Wrapt in a body corpulent and cold, Th'event is doubtful : for there are who find And each clogg'd function lazily moves on; A cure in this; there are who Gpd it not. A generous sally spurns th' incumbent load, "Tis no relief, alas! it rather galls
Unlocks the breast, and gives a cordial glow. The wound, to those who are sincerely sick. But if your wrathful blood is apt to buil, For while from feverish and tumultuous joys Or are your nerves too irritably strung, The nerves grow lauguid and the soul subsides, Wave all dispute ; be cautious, if you joke; The tender fancy smarts with every sting, Keep Lent for ever, and forswear the howl. And what was love before is madness now. For one rash moment sends you to the shades, is health your care, or luxury your aim, Or sbatters ev'ry hopeful scheme of life, Pe ternperate still : when Nature bids, obey; And gives to horrour all your days to come. Her wild impatient sallies bear no curb: Fate, arm’d with thunder, fire, and ev'ry plague, But when the prurient habit of delight,
That ruins, tortures, or distracts mankind, Or loose imagination spurs you on
And makes the happy wretched in an hour, To deeds above your strength, impute it not O'erwhelms you not with woes so horrible To Nature: Nature all compulsion hates, As your own wrath, nor gives more sudden blows. Ah! let not luxury nor vain renown
While choler works, good friend, you may Urge you tu feats you well might sleep without;
be wrong To make what should be rapture a fatigue, Distrust yourself, and sleep before you fight. A tedious task; nor in the wanton arms
"Tis not too late to morrow to be brave; Of twining Lais melt your manhood down. If honour bids, to morrow kill or die. For from the colliquation of soft joys (was! But calm advice against a raging fit How chang'd you rise! the ghost of what you Arails too little ; and it braves the power Languid, and melancholy, and gaunt, and wan; Of all that ever taught in prose or song, Your veins exhausted, and your perves unstrung. To tame the fiend, that sleeps a gentle lamb, Spoil'd of its balm and sprightly zest, the blood And wakes a lion. Unprovok'd and calm, Grows vapid phlegm; along the tender nerves You reason well; sce as you ought to see, (To each slight impuise treinblingly awake) And wonder at the madness of mankind : A subtle fiend that mimics all the plagues, Seiz'd with the common rage, you soon forget Rapid and repless springs from part to part. The speculations of your wiser hours. The blooming honours of your youth are fallen; Deset with furies of all deadly shapes, Your vigour pines; your vital powers decay ; Fierce and insidious, Fiolent and slow : Diseases haunt you ; and untimely age
With all that urge or lure us on to fate: Creeps on ; unsocial, iinpotent, and lead. What refuge shall we seek? what arms prepare? Infatuate, impious epicure! to waste
Where reason proves too weak, or void of wiles The stores of pleasure, cheerfulness, and health! To cope with subtle or impetuous powers, Infatuate all who make delight their trade, I would invoke new passions to your aid: And coy perdition every hour pursue.
With indignation would extinguish fear; Who pines with love, or in lascivious flames With fear, or generous pity, vanquish rage ; Consumes, is with his own consent undone ; And love with pride; and force to force oppose. He chooses to be wretched, to be mad;
There is a charm, a power, that sways the And warn'd, proceeds, and wilful to his fate. Bids every passion revel or be still; (breast; But there's a passion, whose tempestuous sway, Inspires with rage, or all your cares dissolres; Tears up each virtue planted in his breast, Can sooth distraction, and alnrost despair.