ページの画像
PDF
ePub

He nor heaps his brooded stores,
Nor all profusely pours;
Lord of every regal art,
Liberal hand, and open heart.
Big with hosts of mighty name,
Squadrons three against him came;
This the force of Eirin hiding,
Side by side as proudly riding,
On her shadow long and gay
Lochlin* plows the watery way:
There the Norman sails afar
Catch the winds, and join the war;
Black and huge along they sweep,
Burthens of the angry deep.

Dauntless on his native sands The dragon-sont of Mona stands;

In glittering arms and glory drest,
High he rears his ruby crest.
There the thundering strokes begin,
There the press, and there the din;
Talymalfra's rocky shore
Echoing to the battle's roar,
Where his glowing eyeballs turn,
Thousand banners round him burn.
Where he points his purple spear,
Hasty, hasty rout is there,
Marking with indignant eye
Fear to stop, and shame to fly.
There Confusion, Terror's child,
Conflict fierce, and Ruin wild,
Agony, that pants for breath,
Despair and honorable Death.

* Denmark.

| The red dragon is the device of Cadwallader, which all his descendants bore on their banners.

1

[ocr errors][merged small]

ܪ

TOBIAS SMOLLETT, well known in his time for collection, as the author of "The Tears of Scot. the variety and multiplicity of his publications, was land," the "Ode to Leven-Water," and some other born in 1720, at Dalquhurn, in the county of Dum- short pieces, which are polished, tender, and picbarton. He was educated under a surgeon in turesque ; and, especially, of an “Ode to IndepenGlasgow, where he also attended the medical lec- dence,” which aims at a loftier Aight, and perhaps tures of the University; and at this early period he has few superiors in the lyric style. gave some specimens of a talent for writing verses. Smollett married a lady of Jamaica : he was, As it is on this ground that he has obtained a place unfortunately, of an irritable disposition, which in. in the present collection, we shall pass over his volved him in frequent quarrels, and finally shortvarious characters of surgeon's mate, physician, his- ened his life. He died in the neighborhood of Legtoriographer, politician, miscellaneous writer, and horn, in October, 1771, in the fifty-first year of his especially novelist, and consider his claims as a minor age. poet of no mean rank. He will be found, in this

THE TEARS OF SCOTLAND.

O baneful cause, oh, fatal morn,
Accurs'd to ages yet unborn!
The sons against their fathers stood,
The parent shed his children's blood.
Yet, when the rage of battle ceas'd,
The victor's soul was not appeas'd :
The naked and forlorn must feel
Devouring flames, and murd'ring steel !

The pious mother doom'd to death,
Forsaken wanders o'er the heath,
The bleak wind whistles round her head,
Her helpless orphans cry for bread;
Bereft of shelter, food, and friend,
She views the shades of night descend,
And, stretch'd beneath th' inclement skies,
Weeps o'er her tender babes, and dies.

MOURN, hapless Caledonia, mourn
Thy banish'd peace, thy laurels torn!
Thy sons, for valor long renown'd,
Lie slaughter'd on their native ground;
Thy hospitable roofs no more,
Invite the stranger to the door ;
In smoky ruins sunk they lie,
The monuments of cruelty.
The wretched owner sees afar
His all become the prey of war;
Bethinks him of his babes and wife,
Then smites his breast, and curses life.
Thy swains are famish'd on the rocks,
Where once they fed their wanton flocks :
Thy ravish'd virgins shriek in vain;
Thy infants perish on the plain.
What boots it then, in every clime,
Through the wide-spreading waste of time,
Thy martial glory, crown'd with praise,
Still shone with undiminish'd blaze ?
Thy tow'ring spirit now is broke,
Thy neck is bended to the yoke.
What foreign arms could never quell,
By civil rage and rancor fell.
The rural pipe and merry lay
No more shall cheer the happy day:
No social scenes of gay delight
Beguile the dreary winter night :
No strains but those of sorrow flow,
And nought be heard but sounds of woe,
While the pale phantoms of the slain
Glide nightly o'er the silent plain.

While the warm blood bedews my veins,
And unimpair'd remembrance reigns,
Resentment of my country's fate
Within my filial breast shall beat;
And, spite of her insulting foe,
My sympathizing verse shall flow :
“Mourn, hapless Caledonia, mourn
Thy banish'd peace, thy laurels torn !"

ODE TO LEVEN-WATER.
On Leven's banks, while free to rovc,
And tune the rural pipe to love;
I envied not the happiest swain
That ever trod the Arcadian plain.

Pure stream! in whose transparent wave
My youthful limbs I wont to lave;

STROPHE.

No torrents stain thy limpid source ;
No rocks impede thy dimpling course,
That sweetly warbles o'er its bed,

The curlew scream'd, the Tritons blew
With white, round, polish'd pebbles spread ;

Their shells to celebrate the ravish'd rite; While, lightly pois'd, the scaly brood

Old Time exulted as he flew ; In myriads cleave thy crystal flood;

And Independence saw the light. The springing trout in speckled pride;

The light he saw in Albion's happy plains, The salmon, monarch of the tide ;

Where under cover of a flowering thorn, The ruthless pike, intent on war;

While Philomel renew'd her warbled strains, The silver eel, and motiled par.*

The auspicious fruit of stol'n embrace was bornDevolving from thy parent lake,

The mountain Dryads, seiz'd with joy, A charming maze thy waters make,

The smiling infant to their charge consign'd; By bowers of birch, and groves of pine, The Doric Muse caress'd the favorite boy ; And hedges flower'd with eglantine.

The hermit Wisdom stor’d his opening mind. Still on thy banks so gaily green,

As rolling years matur'd his age, May num'rous herds and flocks be seen,

He flourish'd bold and sinewy as his sire; And lasses chanting o'er the pail,

While the mild passions in his breast assuage
And shepherds piping in the dale,

The fiercer flames of his maternal sire.
And ancient Faith that knows no guile,
And Industry embrown'd with toil,

ANTISTROPHE.
And hearts resolv'd, and hands prepar'd,
The blessings they enjoy to guard.

Accomplish'd thus, he wing'd his way,
And zealous rov'd from pole to pole,
The rolls of right eternal to display,
And warm with patriot thoughts the aspiring soul
On desert islets it was he that rais'd

Those spires that gild the Adriatic wave,
ODE TO INDEPENDENCE.

Where Tyranny beheld amaz'd

Fair Freedom's temple, where he mark'd her grave STROPHE.

He steel'd the blunt Bata vian's arms Tuy spirit, Independence, let me share !

To burst the Iberian's double chain; Lord of the lion-heart and eagle eye,

And cities rear'd, and planted farms, Thy steps I follow with my bosom bare,

Won from the skirts of Neptune's wide domain. Nor heed the storm that howls along the sky.

He, with the generous rustics, sate Deep in the frozen regions of the north,

On Uri's rocks in close divan;t A goddess violated brought thee forth,

And wing'd that arrow, sure as fate, Immortal Liberty, whose look sublime

Which ascertain'd the sacred rights of man. Hath bleach'd the tyrant's cheek in every varying clime.

STROPHE What time the iron-hearted Gaul

Arabia's scorching sands he crossid, With frantic Superstition for his guide,

Where blasted Nature pants supine, Arm'd with the dagger and the pall,

Conductor of her tribes adust, The sons of Woden to the field defied :

To Freedom's adamantine shrine; The ruthless hag, by Weser's flood,

And many a Tartar horde forlorn, aghast !
In Heaven's name urg'd th' infernal blow; He snatch'd from under fell Oppression's wing ;
And red the stream began to flow :

And taught amidst the dreary waste
The vanquish'd were baptiz'd with blood. The all-cheering hymns of Liberty to sing.

He virtue finds, like precious ore,
ANTISTROPHE.

Diffus'd through every baser mould,

Even now he stands on Calvi's rocky shore, The Saxon prince in horror fled

And turns the dross of Corsica to gold. From altars stain'd with human gore;

He, guardian genius, taught my youth And Liberty his routed legions led

Pomp’s tinsel livery to despise : In safety to the bleak Norwegian shore.

My lips, by him chastis'd to truth, There in a cave asleep she lay,

Ne'er paid that homage which the heart denies. Lull'd by the hoarse-resounding main; When a bold savage past that way,

ANTISTROPHE. Impell’d by Destiny, his name Disdain.

Those sculptur'd halls my feet shall never tread, Of ample front the portly chief appear'd :

Where varnish'd Vice and Vanity combin'd, The hunted bear supplied a shaggy vest ;

To dazzle and seduce, their banners spread ; The drifted snow hung on his yellow beard ;

And forge vile shackles for the free-born mind. And his broad shoulders brav'd the furious blast.

Where Insolence his wrinkled front uprears, He stopt: he gaz'd ; his bosom glow'd,

And all the flowers of spurious fancy blow; And deeply felt the impression of her charms :

And Title his ill-woven chaplet wears, He seiz'd the advantage Fate allow'd,

Full often wreath'd around the miscreant's brow: And straight compress'd her in his vig'rous arms.

† Alluding to the known story of William Tell and his * The par is a small fish, not unlike the smelt, which it associates, the fathers and founders of the confederacy or rivals in delicacy and flavor.

the Swiss Cantons.

ANTISTROPHE.

Where ever-dimpling Falsehood, pert and vain,
Presents her cup of stale profession's froth !
And pale Disease, with all his bloated train,
Torments the sons of Gluttony and Sloth.

STROPHE.

In Fortune's car behold that minion ride,
With either India's glittering spoils opprest :
So moves the sumpter-mule, in harness'd pride,
That bears the treasure which he cannot taste.
For him let venal bards disgrace the bay,
And hireling minstrels wake the tinkling string;
Her sensual snares let faithless Pleasure lay ;
And all her jingling bells fantastic Folly ring;
Disquiet, Doubt, and Dread shall intervene;
And Nature still to all her feelings just,
In vengeance hang a damp on every scene,
Shook from the balesul pinions of Disgust.

Nature I'll court in her sequester'd haunts
By mountain, meadow, streamlet, grove, or cell,
Where the pois'd lark his evening ditty chants,
And Health, and Peace, and Contemplation dwell.
There Study shall with Solitude recline ;
And Friendship pledge me to his fellow-swains;
And Toil and Temperance sedately twine
The slender cord that fluttering life sustains :
And fearless Poverty shall guard the door ;
And Taste unspoild the frugal table spread;
And Industry supply the humble store ;
And Sleep unbrib'd his dews refreshing shed :
White-mantled Innocence, ethereal sprite,
Shall chase far off the goblins of the night;
And Independence o'er the day preside,
Propitious power! my patron and my pride.

1

[blocks in formation]

GEORGE LORD LYTTELTON.

GEORGE LORD LYTTELTON, born at Hagley, in In 1741, he married Lucy, the daughter of Hugh Jan. 1708–9, was the eldest son of Sir Thomas Fortescue, Esq. a lady for whom he entertained the Lyttelton, Bart of the same place. He received purest affection, and with whom he lived in unabated his early education at Eton, whence he was sent to conjugal harmony. Her death in child-bed, in 1717, Christ-church College, in Oxford. In both of these was lamented by him in a “ Monody," which stands places he was distinguished for classical literature, prominent among his poetical works, and displays and some of his poems which we have borrowed were much natural feeling, amidst the more elaborate the fruits of his juvenile studies. In his nineteenth strains of a poet's imagination. So much may year, he set out on a tour to the Continent; and suffice respecting his productions of this class, which some of the letters which he wrote during this ab- are distinguished by the correctness of their versifisence to his father are pleasing proofs of his sound cation, the elegance of their diction, and the delicacy principles, and his unreserved confidence in a vene- of their sentiments. His miscellaneous pieces, and rated parent. He also wrote a poetical epistle to his History of Henry II., the last the work of his Dr. Ayscough, his Oxford tutor, which is one of the age, have each their appropriate merits, but mag best of his works. On his return from abroad, he here be omitled. was chosen representative in parliament for the The death of his father, in 1751, produced his borough of Oakhampton ; and being warmed with succession to the title and a large estate ; and his that patriotic ardor which rarely fails to inspire the taste for rural ornament rendered Hagley one of bosom of an ingenuous youth, he became a distin- the most delightful residences in the kingdom. At guished partisan of opposition-politics, whilst his the dissolution of the ministry, of which he cofather was a supporter of the ministry, then ranged (posed a part, in 1759, he was rewarded with elevaunder the banners of Walpole. When Frederic tion to the peerage, by the style of Baron Lyttelo Prince of Wales, having quarrelled with the court, of Frankley, in the county of Worcester. He formed a separate court of his own, in 1737, Lyt- died of a lingering disorder, which he bore with telton was appointed secretary to the Prince, with pious resignation, in August 1773, in the 64th year an advanced salary. At this time Pope bestowed of his age. his praise upon our patriot in an animated couplet:

Free as young Lyttelton her cause pursue,
Still true to virtue, and as warm as true.

THE PROGRESS OF LOVE.

| Though now, sublimely borne on Homer's wing,
of glorious wars and godlike chiefs she sing.

Wilt thou with me revisit once again
IN FOUR ECLOGUES.

The crystal fountain, and the flowery plain? 1. Uncertainty. To Mr. Pope.

Wilt thou, indulgent, hear my verse relate 2. Hope. To the Hon. George Doddington.

The various changes of a lover's state ;

And, while each turn of passion I pursue,
3. Jealousy. To Edward Walpole, Esq.
4. Possession. To the Right Hon. the Lord Viscount

Ask thy own heart if what I tell be true?
Cobham.

To the green margin of a lonely wood,
Whose pendent shades o'erlook'd a silver flood,

Young Damon came, unknowing where he stray'd,

Full of the image of his beauteous maid :
UNCERTAINTY.

:

His flock, far off, unfed, untended, lay,

To every savage a defenceless prey;
ECLOGUE I.

No sense of interest could their master move,
TO MR. POPE.

And every care seem'd trifling now but love.

Awhile in pensive silence he remain'd, POPE, to whose reed beneath the beachen shade, But, though his voice was mute, his looks corThe nymphs of Thames a pleas'd attention paid;

plain'd; While yet thy Muse, content with humbler praise, At length the thoughts, within his bosom pent

, Warbled in Windsor's grove her sylvan lays; Forc'd his unwilling tongue to give them vent

1

« 前へ次へ »