« EelmineJätka »
"Thy trees, fair Windsor! now shall leave their
And half thy forests rush into the floods;
Bear Britain's thunder, and her cross display,
To the bright regions of the rising day; Tempt icy seas, where scarce the waters roll, Where clearer flames glow round the frozen pole; Or under southern skies exalt their sails, Led by new stars, and borne by spicy gales! For me the balm shall bleed, and amber flow, The coral redden, and the ruby glow, The pearly shell its lucid globe unfold, And Phœbus warm the ripening ore to gold. The time shall come, when free as seas or wind, Unbounded Thames shall flow for all mankind, Whole nations enter with each swelling tide, And seas but join the regions they divide; Earth's distant ends our glory shall behold, And the new world launch forth to seek the old. Then ships of uncouth form shall stem the tide, And feather'd people crowd my wealthy side, And naked youths and painted chiefs admire Our speech, our colour, and our strange attire! Oh, stretch thy reign, fair peace! from shore to shore,
Till conquest cease, and slavery be no more;
Till the freed Indians in their native groves
Reap their own fruits, and woo their sable loves;
Peru once more a race of kings behold,
And other Mexicos be roof'd with gold.
There faction roar, rebellion bite her chain,
Here cease thy flight, nor with unhallow'd lays
ON ST. CECILIA'S DAY
And other Pieces for Music.
DESCEND, ye Nine: descend and sing:
Wake into voice each silent string,
The shrill echoes rebound:
While, in more lengthen'd notes and slow
Gently steal upon the ear;
Now louder, and yet louder rise,
And fill with spreading sounds the skies; Exulting in triumph now swell the bold notes In broken air trembling, the wild music floats,
Till, by degrees, remote and small,
And melt away,
In a dying, dying fall.
By music, minds an equal temper know,
Warriors she fires with animated sounds;
But when our country's cause provokes to arms,
But when through all the infernal bounds,
O'er all the dreary coasts!
Fires that glow,
And cries of tortured ghosts:
Thy stone, O Sisyphus, stands still,
The Furies sink upon their iron beds,
And snakes uncurl'd hang listening round their heads
By the streams that ever flow,
By those happy souls, who dwell
Or amaranthine bowers!
By the hero's armed shades,
To hear the poet's prayer,
Stern Proserpine relented,
Thus song could prevail
A conquest how hard and how glorious!
Though fate had fast bound her With Styx nine times round her, Yet music and love were victorious.
But soon, too soon the lover turns his eyes:
For ever, ever, ever, lost!
Amidst Rhodope's snows:
See, wild as the winds, o'er the desert he flies;
Hark! Hamus resounds with the Bacchanals' cn
Ah see, he dies!
Yet e'en in death Eurydice he sung:
Eurydice still trembled on his tongue:
Eurydice the woods,
Eurydice the floods,
Eurydice the rocks and hollow mountains rung.
Music the fiercest grief can charm,
And Fate's severest rage disarm;
Music can soften pain to ease,
And make despair and madness please :
And antedate the bliss above.
This the divine Cecilia found,
And to her Maker's praise confined the sound,
The immortal powers incline their ear: