Tranfplant fome living bloffom's to adorn
My native clime: while far above the flight
Of fancy's plume afpiring, I unlock
The fprings of ancient wifdom! while I join
Thy name, thrice honour'd! with the immortal praife
Of nature, while to my compatriot youth
I point the high example of thy fons,
And tune to Attic themes the British lyre.
THE END OF BOOK THE FIRST.
THE feparation of the works of imagination from philofophy, the cause of their abuse among the moderns. Profpect of their re-union under the influence of public liberty. Enumeration of accidental pleasures, which increafe the effect of objects delightful to the imagination. The pleasures of fenfe. Particular circumftances of the mind. Difcovery of truth. Perception of contrivance and defign. Emotion of the paffions. All the natural paffions partake of a pleafing fenfation; with the final caufe of this conftitution illustrated by an allegorical vifion, and exemplified in forrow, pity, terror, and indignation.
HEN fhall the laurel and the vocal string Refume their honours? When shall we behold The tuneful tongue, the Promethéan hand, Afpire to ancient praife? Alas! how faint, How flow, the dawn of beauty and of truth
Breaks the reluctant shades of Gothic night
Which yet involve the nations! Long they groan'd
Beneath the furies of rapacious force;
Oft as the gloomy north, with iron-fwarms
Tempestuous pouring from her frozen caves,
Blasted the Italian fhore, and fwept the works
Of liberty and wifdom down the gulph
Of all-devouring night. As long immur'd
In noon-tide darknefs by the glimmering lamp,
Each Mufe and each fair fcience pin'd away
The fordid hours: while foul, barbarian hands
Their myfterics profan'd, unftrung the lyre,
And chain'd the foaring pinion down to earth.
At laft the Mufes rofe, and fpurn'd their bonds,
And, wildly warbling, fcatter'd, as they flew,
Their blooming wreaths from fair Valclufa's bowers
To Arno's myrtle border and the shore
Of foft Parthenope. But ftill the rage
Of dire ambition and gigantic power,
From public aims and from the busy walk
Of civil commerce, drove the bolder train
Of penetrating science to the cells,
Where ftudious eafe confumes the filent hour
In fhadowy fearches and unfruitful care.
Thus from their guardians torn, the tender arts
Of mimic fancy and harmonious joy,
To priestly domination and the luft
Of lawless courts, their amiable toil
For three inglorious ages have refign'd,
An vain reluctant: and Torquato's tongue
Was tun'd for flavish peans at the throne
Of tinfel pomp and Raphael's magic hand
Effus'd its fair creation to enchant
The fond adoring herd in Latian fanes
To blind belief; while on their proftrate necks
The fable tyrant plants his heel fecure.
But now, behold! the radiant æra dawns,
When freedom's ample fabric, fix'd at length
For endless years on Albion's happy shore
In full proportion, once more fhall extend
To all the kindred powers of focial bliss
A common manfion, a parental roof.
There shall the Virtues, there fhall Wifdom's train,
Their long-lost friends rejoining, as of old,
Embrace the fmiling family of arts,
The Mufes and the Graces. Then no more
Shall vice, distracting their delicious gifts
To aims abhorr'd, 'with high diftaste and scorn
Turn from their charms the philofophic eye,
The patriot-bofom; then no more the paths
Of public care or intellectual toil,
Alone by footsteps haughty and fevere
In gloomy ftate be trod: the harmonious Mufe
And her perfuafive fifters then fhall plant
Their sheltering laurels o'er the bleak ascent,
And fcatter flowers along the rugged way.
Arm'd with the lyre, already have we dar'd
To pierce divine Philofophy's retreats,
And teach the Mufe her lore; already ftrove
Their long-divided honours to unite,
While tempering this deep argument we fang
Of Truth and Beauty. Now the fame glad taik
Impends; now urging our ambitious toil,
We haften to recount the various fprings
Of adventitious pleasure, which adjoin
Their grateful influence to the prime effect
Of objects grand or beauteous, and inlarge
The complicated joy. The fweets of fenfe,
Do they not oft with kind acceffion flow,
To raise harmonious Fancy's native charm?
So while we taste the fragrance of the rofe,
Glows not her blush the fairer? While we view
Amid the noontide walk a limpid rill
Gush through the trickling herbage, to the thirst
Of summer yielding the delicious draught
Of cool refreshment; o'er the mossy brink
Shines not the furface clearer, and the waves
With fweeter mufic murmur as they flow?
Nor this alone; the various lot of life
Oft from external circumftance affumes
A moment's difpofition to rejoice
In thofe delights which at a different hour
Would pafs unheeded. Fair the face of spring,
When rural fongs and odours wake the morn,
To every eye; but how much more to his
Round whom the bed of fickness long diffus'd
Its melancholy gloom! how doubly fair,
When firft with fresh-born vigour he inhales
The balmy breeze, and feels the blessed fun
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