Aerial music in the warbling wind, At distance rising oft, by small degrees Nearer and nearer came, till o'er the trees It hung, and breath'd such soul-dissolving As did alas! with soft perdition please: [airs, Entangled deep in its enchanting snares, The list ning heart forgot all duties and all cares. A certain music, never known before, Here lull'd the pensive melancholy mind, Full easily obtain'd. Behoves no more, But sidelong, to the gently-waving wind, To lay the well-tun'd instrument reclin'd; From which with airy flying fingers light, Beyond each mortal touch the most refin'd, The god of winds drew sounds of deep delight: Whence, with just cause, the Harp of Æolus* it hight. Ah me! what hand can touch the string so Who up the lofty diapason roll [fine? Such sweet, such sad, such solemn airs divine, Then let them down again into the soul? Now rising love they faun'd; now pleasing dole They breath'd, in tender musings, thro' the heart; And now a graver sacred strain they stole, As when seraphic hands a hymn impart: Wild warbling nature all, above the reach of art! Such the gay splendor, the luxurious state Of caliphs old, who on the Tygris' shore, In mighty Bagdat, populous and great, [store; Held their bright court, where was of ladies And verse, love, music still the garland wore: When sleep was coy, the bard in waiting there Cheer'd the lone midnight with the Muse'slore; Composing music bade his dreams be fair, And music lent new gladness to the morning air t. Near the pavillions where we slept, still ran Soft tinkling streams, and dashing waters fell, And sobbing breezes sigh'd, and oft began (So work'd the wizard) wint'ry storins to swell, As heaven and earth they would together mell? At doors and windows, threat'ning seem'd to call, The demons of the tempest, growling fell, Yet the least entrance found they none at all; Whence sweeter grew our sleep, secure in massy hall. And hither Morpheus sent his kindest dreams, Raising a world of gayer tinct and grace; O'er which were shadowy cast elysian gleams That play'd in waving lights, from place to place, And shed a roseate smile on nature's face. Not Titian's pencil e'er could so array, So fleece with clouds, the pure ethercal space; Nor could it e'er such melting forms display, As loose on flow'ry beds all languishingly lay. No, fair illusions! artful phantoms, no! They were, in sooth, a most enchanting train, Who hurt the wretch, as if to hell outright, Down, downblack gulphs, where sullen waters sleep, Or hold him clamb'ring all the fearful night On beetling cliffs, or pent in ruins deep: They, till due time should serve, were bid far hence to keep. Ye guardian spirits, to whom man is dear, smart, [heart. And fill with pious awe and joy-mixt woe the Or, are you sportive, bid the morn of youth Rise to new light, and beam afresh the days Of innocence, simplicity, and truth, [ways. To cares estrang'd, and manhood's thorny What transport, to retrace our boyish plays, Our easy bliss, when each thing joy supplied; The woods, the mountains, and the warbling [wide, maze Of the wild brooks!-But, fondly wand'ring My Muse,resume the task that yet doth thee abide. One great amusement of our household was, In a huge crystal magic globe to spy, Still as you turn'd it, all things that do pass Upon this ant-hill earth; where constantly Of idly busy men the restless fry Run bustling to and fro in foolish haste, In search of pleasures vain that from them fly, Or which obtain'd the eatiffs dare not taste: When nothing is enjoy'd, can there be greater waste? Of vanity the mirror this was call'd: Here you a muckworm of the town might see This is not an imagination of the author; there being in fact such an instrument, called Aolus's Harp, which, when placed against a little rushing or current of air, produces the effect here described. The Arabian caliphs had poets among the officers of their court, whose office it was to do what is here mentioned, Firm to this scoundrel maxim keepeth lie, Till it has quench'd his fire, and banished hispot. All glossy gay; enamell'd all with gold, His father's ghost from limbo-lake, the while, Seesthis,whichmoredamnation doesuponhimpile.. This globe portray'd the race of learned men, Still at their books, and turning o'er the page Backwards and forwards: oft they snatch the As if inspir'd, and in a Thespian rage; [pen, Then write and blot, as would your rathengage. Why, Authors, all this scrawl and scribbling sore, To lose the present, gain the future age, Praised to be when you can hear no more, And much enrich'd with fame when useless worldly store. Then would a splendid city rise to view, With carts, and cars, and couches roaring all. Wide pour'd abroad behold the giddy crew: See how they dash along from wall to wall! At ev'ry door, hark! how they thund'ring call! Good Lord! what can this giddy rout excite? Why on each other with fell tooth to fall; A neighbour's fortune, fame, or peace to blight, And make new tiresome parties for the coming night. their cares, The puzzling sons of party next appear'd, In dark cabals and nightly juntos met; [rear'd And now they whisper'd close, now shrugging The important shoulder; then, as if to get New light, their twinkling eyes were inward No sooner Lucifer* recals affairs, [set. Than forth they various rush in mighty fret! When, lo! push'd up to pow'r, and crown'd [stairs In comes another set, and kicketh them down But what most show'd the vanity of life, Was to behold the nations all on fire, In cruel broils engag'd, and deadly strife: Most Christian kings, inflam'd by black desire! With honorable ruffians in their hire, Cause war to rage, and blood around to pour Of this sad work when each begins to tire, Theysit them down just where they were before, Till for new scenes of woe peace shall their force restore. : With tape-tied trash, and suits of fools that ask For place or pension, laid in decent row; But these I passen by, withnamelessnumbersmoe. Of all the gentle tenants of the place, There was a man of special grave remark : A certain tender gloom o'erspread his face, Pensive, not sad, in thought involv'd not dark. As sooth this man could sing as inorning lark, And teach the noblest morals of the heart; But these his talents were yburied stark; Of the fine stores he nothing would impart, Whichorbootnature gate,of nature-painting art. To noon-tide shades incontinent he ran, Where purls the brook with sleep-inviting sound. Or when Dan Sol to slope his wheels began, Amid the broom he bask'd him on the ground, Where the wild thymeand camomile are found: There would he linger, till the latest ray Of light sat trembling on the welkin's bound; Thenhomewardthiro'thetwilightshadowsstray, Saanteringandslow. So had he passed manyaday. Yet not in thoughtless slumber were they past, For oft the heavenly fire that lay conceal'd Beneath the sleeping embers, mounted fast, And all its native light anew reveal'd: Oft as he travers'd the coerulean field, wind, And mark'd the clouds that drove before the Ten thousand glorious systems would he build, Ten thousand great ideas fill'd his mind; But with the clouds they fled, and left no trace behind. With him wassometimes join'd in silent walk Here lurch'da wretch who had not crept abroad nook, We drove the villain out for fitter lair to look. One day there chanc'd into these halls to rove A joyous youth, who took you at first sight; Him the wild wave of pleasure hither drove, Before the sprightly tempest-tossing light: Certes, he was a most engaging wight, Of social glee, and wit humane tho' keen, Turning the night to day and day to night: For him the merry bells had rung, I ween, If in this nook of quiet bells had ever been. * The Morning Star. To number up the thousands dwelling here, An useless were, and eke an endless task; From kings, and those who at the helm appear, To gypsies brown in summer-glades who bask. Yea many a man, perdie, I could unmask, Whose desk and table make a solemn show, But But not e'en pleasure to excess is good: The higher still the exulting billows flow, more. As when in prime of June a burnish'd fly Cheer'd by the breathing bloom and vital sky, Then out again he flies, to wing his mazy round. Another guest there was, of sense refin'd, "But if, alas! we cannot thee persuade To ly content beneath our peaceful dome, "Ne ever more to quit our quiet glade; "Yet when at last thy toils but ill apaid "Shall dead thy fire, and damp its heavenly "spark, "Thou wilt be glad to seek the rural shade, Then to indulge the Muse, and nature mark: "We then a lodge for thee will rear in Hagley "Park." Here whilom ligg'd the Esopus of the age; Each due decorum: now the heart he shakes, And now with well-urg'd sense the enlighten'd judgement takes. A bard here dwelt, more fat than bard beseems; • Mr. Quin. Oft moralising sage: his ditty sweet Their oracles break forth mysterious as of old. Where hours on hours they sighingly reclin'd, And the wind. Now must I mark the villany we found, Diseas'd and loathsome, privily were thrown. The following lines of this stanza were written by a friend of the author. Of limbs enormous, but withal unsound, Soft-swoln and pale, here lay the Hydrophy: Unweildy man; with belly monstrous round, For ever fed with watery supply; For still he drank, and yet he still was dry. Fast by her side a listless maiden pin'd, [ings; song Come then, my Muse, and raise a bolder Come, lig no more upon the bed of sloth,, Dragging the lazy languid line along, Foud to begin, but still to finish loth; Thy half-writ scrolls all caten by the moth: Arise, and sing that generous imp of fame, Who with the sons of softness nobly wroth, To sleep away this human lumber came, Or in a chosen few to rouse the slumberingflame. In Fairy-land there liv'd a knight of old, Of features stern, Selvagio yclep'd; A rough unpolish'd man, robust and bold, But wond'rous poor: he neither sow'd nor reap'd, Ne stores in summer for cold winter heap'd; In hunting all his days away he wore; Nowscorch'dbyJune,nowinNovembersteep'd, Now pinch'd by biting January sore, He still in woods pursued the libbard and the boar. As he one morning, long before the dawn, Prick'd thro' the forest to dislodge his prey, Deep in the winding bosom of a lawn, [ray, With wood wild-fringed, he mark'd a taper's That from the beating rain, and wint'ry fray, Did to a lonely cot his steps decoy; A wolf now gnaws him,now a serpent stings; Down to the ground at once, as butcher felleth ox. CANTO II. The Knight of Arts and Industry, ESCAP'D the castle of the sire of sin, I care not, Fortune, what yon me deny : You cannot rob me of free nature's grace; You cannot shut the windows of the sky, Thro'which Aurora shows her bright'ning face; You cannot bar my constant feet to trace The woods and lawns, by living stream, ateve: Let health my nerves and finer fibres brace, And I their toys to the great children leave: Of fancy, reason, virtue,nought can me bereave. Amid the green-wood shade this boy was bred, teem; The same to him glad summer, or the winter So pass'd his youthly morning, void of care, Of fertile genius him they nurtur'd well, That brace the nerves, or make the limbs alert, And mix elastic force with firmness hard: Was never knight on ground note be with him compar'd. Sometimes, with early morn, he mounted gay The hunter-steed, exuluing o'er the dale, And drew the roseate breath of orient day! Sometimes retiring to the secret vale, Yclad Yclad in steel and bright with burnish'd mail, Hestrain'd the bow,ortoss'd thesoundingspear, Or darting on the goal outstripp'd the gale, Or wheel'd the chariot in its mid career, Or stenuous wrestled hard with many a tough compeer. At other times he pried thro' nature's store, Those moral seeds whence we heroic actions reap. To solace then these rougher toils, he tried Accomplish'd thus he from the woods issued, Full of great aims, and bent on bold emprize; The work which long he in his breast had brew'd, Now to perform he ardent did devise; To wit, a barbarous world to civilize. Earth was till then a boundless forest wild; Nought to be seen but savage wood and skies; No cities nourish'd arts, no culture smil'd, Nogovernment, no laws, no gentle manners mild. A rugged wight, the worst of brutes was man: On his own wretched kind he ruthless prey'd: The strongest still the weakest over-ran; In ev'ry country mighty robbers sway'd, And guile and ruffian force were all their trade. Life was a scene of rapine, want, and woe ; Which this brave knight, in noble anger, made To swear, he would the rascal rout o'erthrow, For, by the pow'rs divine, it should no more be so! It would exceed the purport of my song, To say how this best sun from orient climes Came beaming life and beauty all along, Before him chasing indolence and crimes. Still as he pass'd, the nations he sublimes, And calls forth arts and virtues with his ray Then Egypt, Greece, and Rome their golden Successive, had; but now in ruins grey [times They ly to slavish sloth and tyranny a prey. To crown his toils, Sir Industry then spread The swelling sail, and made for Britain's coast. A sylvan life till then the natives led, In the brown shades and greenwood forest lost, All careless rambling where it lik'd them most: Their wealth the wild deer bouncing thro' the glade: They lodg'd at large, and liv'd at nature's cost; Save spear and bow, withouten other aid; Yet not the Roman steel their naked breast dismay'd. He lik'd the soil, he lik'd the clement skies, He lik'd the verdant hills and flow'ry plains. Be this my great, my chosen isle (he cries); This, whilst my labors Liberty sustains, This of ocean all assault disdains. queen Nor lik'd he less the genius of the land, To freedom apt and persevering pains: Mild to obey, and gen'rous to command, Temper'd by forming heaven with kindest firmest hand. Here, by degrees, his master-work arose, Whatever arts and industry can frame; Whatever finish'd agriculture knows, [came, Fair queen of arts! from heaven itself who When Eden flourish'd in unspotted fame. And still with her sweet innocence we find And tender peace, and joys without a name, That, while they ravish, tranquillize the mind, Nature and art at once, delight and use combin'd. Then towns he quicken'd by mechanic arts, And bade the fervent city glow with toil; Bade social commerce raise renowned marts, Join land to land, and marry soil to soil, Unite the poles, and without bloody spoil Bring home of either Ind the gorgeous stères; Or, should despotic rage the world embroil, Bade tyrants tremble on remotest shores; While o'er th' encircling deep Britannia's thunder roars. The drooping Muses then he westward call'd, Yet the fine arts were what he finish'd least. creast; Unless, as seldom chances, it should fall, |