And curfe thy far, and early drudge and hate,
Withouten that would come an heavyer bale,
Loofe life, unruly paffions, and diseases pale.
· II.
"Detefted forms! that, on the mind impreft, 681 | For tho' fometimes it makes thee weep and wail, "Corrupt, confound, and barbarize an age. "Behold! all thine again the Sifter Arts, "Thy Graces they, knit in harmonious dance : "Nurs'd by the treasure from a nation drain'd 685 "Their works to purchase, they to nobler rouze "Their untam'd genius, their unfetter'd thought! "Of pompous tyrants, and of dreaming Monks, "The gaudy tools and prifoners no more. "Lo! numerous Domes a Burlington confefs. 690
"For kings and fenates fit, the Palace fee!
"The Temple, breathing a religious awe:
"E'en fram'd with elegance, the plain retreat,
The private dwelling. Certain in his aim,
"Tafte never idly working, faves expence.
695 "See! fylvan fcenes, where Art, alone, pretends "To drefs her miftrefs, and difclofe her charms, "Such as a Pope in miniature has flown,
A Bathurst o'er the widening forest spreads, "And fuch as form a Richmond, Chifwick, Stowe. August, around, what Public Works 1 fee!
"Lo! ftreaming comfort o'er the troubled deep,
On every pointed coaft the Lighthouse tow'rs;
"And, by the broad imperious Mole repell'd, 15
"Hark! how the baffled form indignant roars.
As thick to view these Varied Wonders rofe,
Shook all my foul with transport; unaffur'd,
The Vifion broke, and on my waking eye
Rufh'd the still Ruins of dejected Rome,
In lowly dale, faft by a river's fide,
With woody hill o'er hill encompas'd round,
A moth enchanting wizard did abide,
Than whom a fiend more fell is no where found.
It was, I ween, a lovely fpot of ground;
And there a feafon atween June and May,
Half praukt with fpring, with fummer half im-
brown'd,
A liflefs climate made, where, footh to say,
No living wight could work, ne cared e'en for
play.
Full in the paffage of the vale, above,
A fable, fileur, folemn, foreft food,
Where nought but fhadowy forms was feen to mon
As Idlefs fancy'd in her dreaming mood;
And up the hills, on either fide, a wood
Of blackening pines, by waving to and fro,
THE CASTLE OF INDOLENCE. Sent forth a fleepy horror thro' the blood;
And where this valley winded out, below,
The murmuring main was heard, and fearedly
heard, to flow.
A pleafing land of drowfy-head it was,
Of Dreams that wave before the half-shut eye
And of gay Caftles in the clouds that pass,
For ever flushing round a fummer sky;
There eke the foft Delights, that witchingly
Indil a wanton fweetnefs thro' the breaft,
And the calm Pleafures, always hover'd nigh;
But whate'er fmack'd of noyance or unrest
Was far, far off, expell'd from this delicicus nest.
"Be no man's pleasure for another staid;
"Let each as likes him beft his hours employ,
"And curs'd be he who minds his neighbour's
trade!
"Here dwells kind cafe and unreproving joy :
"He little merits blifs who others can annoy."
Strait of thefe endless numbers, fwarming round,
As thick as idle motes in funny ray,
Not one eftfoons in view was to be found,
But every man ftroll'd off his own glad way;
Wide o'er this ample court's blank area,
With all the lodges that thereto pertain'd,
No living creature could be feen to stray,
While folitude and perfect filence reign'd,
So that to think you dreamt you almost was con-
ftrain'd.
As when a fhepherd of the Hebrid-ifles*,
Plac'd far amid the melancholy main,
(Whether it be lone fancy him beguiles,
Or that aërial beings fometimes deign
To ftand embodied to our fenfes plain,)
Sees on the naked hill or valley low,
The whilt in ocean Phoebus dips his wain,
A vaft affembly moving to and fro,
Then all at once in air diffolves the wondrous
fhow.
Ye Gods of Quiet and of Sleep profound!
Whole foft dominion o'er this Caftie fways,
And all the widely-filent places Found,
Forgive me, if my trembling pen difplays
What never yet was fung in mortal lays.
But how fhall I attempt fuch arduous ftring,
I who have spent my nights and nightly days
In this foul-deadening place, loofe loitering?
Ah! how shall I for this uprear my moulted
wing?
Come on, my Mufe! nor toop to low despair,
Thou imp of Jove! touch'd by celestial fire,
Thou yet fhalt fing of war and actions fair,
Which the bold fons of Britain will infpire;
Of ancient bards thou yet fhalt fweep the lyre;
Thou yet fhalt tread in Tragic pall the flage,
Paint love's enchanting woes, the hero's ire,
The fage's calm, the patriot's noble rage,
Dashing corruption down thro' every worthless
The doors, that knew no fhrill alarming bell,
No curfed knocker ply'd by villain's hand,
Self-open'd into halls, where who can tell
What elegance and grandeur wide expand,
The pride of Turkey and of Perfia land?
Sometimes the pencil, in cool airy halls,
Bade the gay bloom of vernal landscapes rife,
Or autumn's varied fhades inbrown the walls:
Now the black tempeft ftrikes the astonish'd eyes;
Now down the steep the flashing torrent flies;
The trembling fun now plays o'er ocean blue,
And now rude mountains frown amid the fkies :
Whate'er Lorrain light-touch'd with softening hue,
Or favage Rofa dash'd, or learned Pouffin drew.
XXXIX.
*Thofe iflands on the weflern coaft of Scotland called Each found, too, here to languishment inclin'd,
Lull'd the weak bosem, and induced eafe;
Aërial mufic in the warbling wind,
At diftance riling oft', by fmall degrees,
Nearer and nearer came, till o'er the trees
It hung, and breath'd fuch foul-diffolving airs
As did, alas! with foft perdition please:
Entangled deep in its enchanting snares,
The liftening heart forgot all duties and all cares.
XL.
A certain mufic, never known before,
Here lull'd the penfive melancholy mind;
Full eafily obtain'd. Behoves no more,
But fide-long, to the gently-waving wind,
To lay the well-tun'd inftrument reclin'd,
From which, with airy-flying fingers light,
Beyond each mortal touch the molt refin'd,
The God of Winds drew founds of deep delight,
Whence, with juft caufe, the harp of olus *
hight.
Ah me! what hand can touch the firing fo fine? Who the lofty diapafon roll
Such fweet, fuch fad, fuch folemn airs divine,
Then let them down again into the foul?
Now rifing love they fann'd; now pleafing dole
They breath'd, in tender mufings, thro' the heart;
And now a graver facred strain they stole,
As when feraphic hands an hymn impart ;
Wild-warbling Nature all, above the reach of Art !
XLII.
Such the gay splendour, the luxurious flate,
Of Caliphs old, who on the Tigris' fhore,
In mighty Bagdat, populous and great,
Held their bright court, where was of ladies ftore,
And verfe, love, mufic, ftill the garland wore :
When Sleep was coy, the bard, in waiting there,
Cheer'd the lone midnight with the Mule's lore,
Compofing mufic bade his dreams be fair,
And mufic lent new gladnefs to the morning air.
Near the pavilions where we flept, ftill ran
Soft-tinkling ftreams, and dashing waters fell,
And fobbing breezes figh'd, and oft' began
(So work'd the wizard) wintry forms to fwell,
As heaven and earth they would together mell:
At doors and windows threat'ning teem'd to call
The demons of the tempeft, growling fell,
Yet the leaft entrance found they none at all,
Whence fweeter grew our fleep, fecure in maffy
hall.
And hither Morpheus fent bis kindest dreams,
Rating a world of gayer tinct and grace,
*This is not an imagination of the Author, there being in fact fuch an inftrument, called Aeolus's burp, erbich, when placed against a little rufbing or current of air, produces the effect bere defcribed.
The Arabian caliphs bad poets among the officers of their court, whefe office it reas to do what is here men
O'er which was fhadowy caft Elyfian gleams,
That play'd, in waving lights, from place to place,
And fhed a rofeat fmile on Nature's face.
Not Titian's pencil e'er could fo array,
So fleece with clouds the pure ethereal space;
Ne could it e'er fuch melting forms difplay,
As loofe on flowery beds all languishingly lay.
No, fair Illufions! artful Phantoms! no,
My Mufe will not attempt your Fairy land:
She has no colours that like you can glow;
To catch your vivid fcenes too grofs her hand.
"But fure it is, was ne'er a fubtler band
Than thefe fame guileful ángel-feeming fprights,
Who thus in dreams, voluptuous, foft, and bland,
Pour'd all th' Arabian heaven upon our nights
And blefs'd them oft' befides with more refin'd de-
lights.
They were in footh a moft enchanting train,
E'en feigning virtue; fkilful to unite
With evil good, and ftrew with pleafure pain:
But for those fiends whom blood and broils delight,
Down,down black gulphs, where fullen waters fleep',
Who hurl the wretch, as if to hell outright,
Or hold him clambering all the fearful night
On beetling cliffs, or pent in ruins deep,
They, till due time fhould ferve, were bid far hence
to keep.
Ye guardian Spirits! to whom man is dear,
From these foul demons fhield the midnight gloom!
Argels of Fancy and of Love! be near,
And o'er the blank of fleep diffufe a bloom:
Evoke the facred fhades of Greece and Rome,
And let them virtne with a look impart;
But chief a while, O! lend us from the tomb
Thofe long-loft friends for whom in love we smart,"
And fill with pious awe and joy-mixt woe the
heart.
Or are you fportive ?-Bid the morn of youth
Rife to new light, and beam affefh the days
Of innocence, fimplicity, and truth,
To cares eftrang'd, and manhood's thorny ways.
What tranfport, to retrace our boyith plays,
Our eafy blifs, when each thing joy fupply'd,
The woods, the mountains, and the warbling maze
Of the wild brooks!--But, fondly wandering wide,
My Mufe! refume the task that yet doth thee abide.
One great amufement of our household was,
In a huge crystal magic globe to spy,
Still as you turn'd it, all things that do pafs
Upon this ant-hill earth; where constantly
Of idly-bufy men the reflefs fry
Run buftling to and froth foolish hafte,
In fearch of pleasures vai that from them fly,
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