Listening, with pleasing dread, to the deep roar Of the wide-weltering waves. When sulphurous clouds roll'd on th' autumnal day, Even then he hasten'd from the haunt of man, Along the trembling wilderness to stray, What time the lightning's fierce career began, And o'er heaven's rending arch the rattling thunder ran. LV. Responsive to the sprightly pipe, when all In sprightly dance the village youth were join'd, From the rude gambol far remote reclined, To the pure soul by Fancy's fire refined! Ah, what is mirth but turbulence unholy, When with the charm compared of heavenly melancholy! LVI. Is there a heart that music cannot melt ? He needs not woo the Muse; he is her scorn. Sneak with the scoundrel fox, or grunt with glutton swine. LVIL For Edwin Fate a nobler doom had plann'd ; His infant Muse, though artless, was not mute : For this of time and culture is the fruit ; LVIII. Meanwhile, whate'er of beautiful, or new, Sublime, or dreadful, in earth, sea, or sky, By chance, or search, was offer'd to his view, He scann'd with curious and romantic eye. Whate'er of lore tradition could supply From Gothic tale, or song, or fable old, Roused him, still keen to listen and to pry. At last, though long by penury controll'd, And solitude, his soul her graces 'gan unfold. LIX. Thus on the chill Lapponian's dreary land, For many a long month lost in snow profound, When Sol from Cancer sends the season bland, And in their northern cave the storms are bound; From silent mountains, straight, with startling sound, Torrents are hurl'd; green hills emerge; and lo, The trees with foliage, cliffs with flowers are crown'd; Pure rills through vales of verdure warbling go; And wonder, love, and joy, the peasant's heart o'erflow. LX. Here pause, my Gothic lyre, a little while. I only wish to please the gentle mind, Whom Nature's charms inspire, and love of human kind. BOOK IL Doctrina sed vim promovet insitam, I. HORAT. Or chance or change, oh, let not man complain, All feel th' assault of fortune's fickle gale; II. But sure to foreign climes we need not range, But spare, O Time, whate'er of mental grace, Whate'er of fancy's ray, or friendship's flame is mine! III. So I, obsequious to Truth's dread command, And smite the Gothic lyre with harsher hand; IV. "Perish the lore that deadens young desire," V. Vigour from toil, from trouble patience grows. The weakly blossom, warm in summer bower, Some tints of transient beauty may disclose; But soon it withers in the chilling hour. Mark yonder oaks! Superior to the power Of all the warring winds of heaven they rise, And from the stormy promontory tower, And toss their giant arms amid the skies, While each assailing blast increase of strength supplies. VI. And now the downy cheek and deepen'd voice And walks of wider circuit were his choice, And vales more wild, and mountains more sublime. One evening, as he framed the careless rhyme, It was his chance to wander far abroad, VII. Thither he hied, enamour'd of the scene. For rocks on rocks piled, as by magic spell, Here scorch'd with lightning, there with ivy green, Fenced from the north and east this savage dell. Southward a mountain rose with easy swell, Whose long, long groves eternal murmur made : And toward the western sun a streamlet fell, Where, through the cliffs, the eye, remote, survey'd Blue hills, and glittering waves, and skies in gold array'd. VIII. Along this narrow valley you might see The wild deer sporting on the meadow ground, Or mossy stone, or rock with woodbine crown'd. IX. One cultivated spot there was, that spread |