"Mortal, could thine eyes behold
"All thofe fullen mifts enfold,
Thy finews at the fight accurft
Would wither, and thy heart-ftrings burst;
"Death would grafp with icy hand
"And drag thee to our grizly band—
"Away! the fable pall I fpread,
"And give to reft th' unquiet dead—
"Hafte! ere its horrid throud enclofe
"Thy form, benumb'd with wild affright,
"And plunge thee far thro' waftes of night,
"In yon black gulph's abhorr'd repose!”.
As ftarting at each step I fly,
Why backward turns my frantic eye,
That clofing portal past?
Two fullen fhades half-feen advance!
On me, a blatting look they caft,
And fix my view with dang'rous fpells,
Where burning phrenzy dwells !---
Again their vengeful look-and now a fpeechiefs
Part of an ODE to SUPERSTITION, publifhed with fome other POEMS.
N yon' hear fummit, mildly bright
purple ether's liquid light,
High o'er the world, the white rob'd Magi gaze
On dazzling burits of heavenly fire,
And wildly start at each blue blaze,
Each flame that flits with adverfe fpire.
But fay what founds my ear invade?
From Delphi's venerable fhade?
The temple rocks, the laurel waves!
"The God! the God!" the Sybil cries.
Her figure fwells! fie foams, fhe raves!
Her figure fwells to more than mortal size!
Streams of rapture roll along,
Silver notes afcend the fkies.
Wake, Echo, wake and catch the fong,
Oh, catch it, e'er it dies.
The Sybil fpeaks, the dream is o'er,
The holy harpings charm no more.
In vain the checks the God's controul,
His madding fpirit fills her frame,
And moulds the features of her soul,
Breathing a prophetic flame.
The cavern frowns! its hundred mouths unclofe,
And, in the thunder's voice, the fate of empire flows,
Mona, thy Druid rites awake the dead!
Rites thy brown oaks would never dare
E'en whisper to the idle air;
Rites that have chain'd old Ocean on his bed.
Shiver'd by thy piercing glance,
Pointlefs falls the hero's lance.
Thy magic bids th' imperial eagle fly,
And mars the laureate wreath of victory.
Hark, the bard's foul infpires the vocal firing!
At ev'ry paufe dread Silence hovers o'er:
While murky night fails round on raven wing,
Deepening the tempeft's howl, the torrent's roar;
Chas'd by the morn from Snowdon's awful brow,
Where late fhe tat and icowl'd on the black wave below,
Lo, fteel-clad War his gorgeous standard rears!
The red-crofs fquadrons madly rage,
And mow thro' infancy and age;
Then kifs the facred duft and melt in tears.
Veiling from the eye of day,
Penance dreams her life away;
In cloyfter'd folitude fhe fits and fighs,
While from each fhrine fill finall refponfes rife.
Hear with what heart-felt beat, the midnight bell
Swings its flow fummons thro' the hollow pile!
The weak wan votarist leaves her twilight cell,
To woo with taper dim, the winding ifle;
With choral chantings vainly to a pire
Beyond this nether fphere, on rapture's wing of fire.
We have been favoured, by the AUTHOR, with the following elegant Tribute to the Memory of the late Lady JERNINGHAM. A few Copies of it, only, have been printed, at the Solicitation of feveral of her Friends.
LINES written in the ALBUM,
At CoSSEY HALL, NORFOLK, by Mr. JERNINGHAM.
HOU, to whofe facred page the parting guest
Confides the workings of his grateful breaft,
With awful pleafure o'er thy form I bend
My gift to bring-as brother, gucft, and friend.
Farewell, ye fhades! (ah! not to fame unknown)
Where Elegance has rear'd her Attic throne:
Whofe beauties, to the pure of taste address'd,
In Nature's charms munificently drefs'd;.
Whofe foft amenity, with grace combin'd,
Display the emblem of the mailer's mind;
Farewell! Say, fhall I not regret the bow'r
Where focial intercourfe endear'd the hour;
Where fhe, whofe footsteps bless this fylvan feat,
The pride and mittrefs of this calm retreat,
Her foul illum'd with Wifdom's piercing beam,
Sheds o'er the converfe her enlight'ning gleam?
By native Taste, that fure directrefs, led,
She ftores her talents at the fountain-head.
So the bright fun-flow'r, on the cultur'd plain,
Afpires impatient o'er her filter train,
Unfolds her bofom at the dawn of day
To catch the radiance of the folar ray.
Ye fcenes o'er which I caft a ling'ring view,
O'er which affection breathes a warm adieu,
That hour I now recallith pleasing pain,
Which gave your beauties to my with again:
Yet then, as approach'd your fmiling fhore,
Prompt expectation gladly flew before:
Wing'd with gay hope, as nearer till I drew,
Hills, plains and woods affum'd a brighter hue:
Soft-wreath'd in lilac vestment, laughing May
With hailing afpeét met me on the
The various vale with eager fteps I preis'd,
Praife on my tongue, an tranfport in my breast:
O'er cach lov'd ipot I fent a fond survey,
Where in the morn of life I wont to stray;
The winding walks by memory endear'd,
Where with the growing plants my youth was rear'd,
Embow'ring fhades, in whofe deep gloom immers'd,
Reflection fed me, and the Mufes nurs'd,
And, fcreening from my view ambition's fky,
Pour'd other visions on my raptur'd eye.
Yet, Album, ere the willing task I leave,
Warm from the heart thefe clofing lines receive.
'Twas at the hour to contemplation due,
When evening meekly from the world withdrew,
Beneath an aged oak, in pentive mood,
I Sorrow's folitary captive ftood;
When, from the rifted trunk's obfcure recefs,
A voice breath'd forth in accents of distress;
"Where! where is the! of mild and rev'rend mien,
"Once the lov'd mittress of this fylvan fcene?”—
"Fall'n-fall'n-fall'n-fall'n"-a diftant voice replied:
The branches fhook, as if to fenfe allied;
Wild Terror flung his ftrong enchantment round,
And evening hurried into night profound!
Now fond remembrance turns a willing fight,
To dwell on gayer fcenes of paft delight,
Pleas'd to behold her, midft the polish'd train,
With grace, with dignity, her part fuftain.
To mild feftivity by nature prone,
With inbred wit peculiarly her own,
Prompt ev'ry fpoitive incident to feize,
Diffufing pleafure with a carelefs eafe;
Of pow'r to charm invincibly poffefs'd,
Unfelt the glided into every breast.
There are, who, fram'd with an enlighten'd taste,
High on the critic form by judgment plac'd,
Who (marking well her fenfe with frength combin'd,
The fcintillations of her playful mind,
An aptitude that never loft its aim)
With brilliant Sevigné inwreathe her name.
To difcontent, the vice of age, unknown,
Her chearfulnefs maintain'd its envied throne:
The gay, the old, the learned, and the young,
And they whofe heart pure elegance had ftrung,
By the foft pow'r of her enchantment won,
Would oft the glare of throng'd affemblies fhun,
To court her ready wit's enliv'ning beam,
And bafk beneath its undulating gleam.
Yet oft from thefe unnotic'd would the steal,
To foothe the bed rid ftretch'd on Torture's wheel,
To fmooth the furrow on Misfortune's brow,
To warm the timid and exalt the low,
With lenient hand administer relief,
And clofe the bleeding artery of grief.
Ah, ever dear! ah, venerable fhade!
Indulge this honour by Affection paid.
Enthron'd in blifs, ah! yet forbear to fhun
This holy tribute from a zealous fon.
'Twas mine, attendant on thy evening ray,'
To watch the fun-fet of thy blameless day;
To fee thee, weary of th' unequal ftrife,
Shed the faint glimm'rings of exhausted life,
And (heavenly moralift, fublimely great!)
At the dread opening of thy future itate,
Teach by example, to thy latest breath,
Meekness in pain, and fortitude in death.
INVOCATION to RETIREMENT,
[From a poetic EPISTLE to a CURATE, by JOSIAH THOMAS, A. B.] ETIREMENT, hail!-thy hofpitable fhade,
By blundering Pride injurioufly pourtray'd,
Demands my verfe-could gratitude infpire
The fage's wifdom, or the poet's fire,
How would the Mufe th' immortal theme prolong,
And blefs thy fond encomiast and the fong!
Retirement, hail! though ridicul'd by Pride,
Sublime th' affociates in thy bower abide.
Sublime thy joys, however difavow'd
By Instinct's herd, the profligate and proud.
Though round thy bower no pompous buildings ftare,
Nor Taite's capricious vanities be there;
Within the fweet recefs Truth loves to dwell;
And meek Simplicity adorns the cell:
Learning the volume of the world displays,
Blaz'ning the wonders of the SIRE OF DAYS:
Genius, with eye undazzled by the fun,
Traces each footstep where Old Time has run:
Science the exhaustless univerfe explores,
Dives to the bottom, to the fummit foars:
There Contemplation by fage Wisdom led,
"Holds her high converfe with the mighty dead.”
While fair Content and Peace, congenial powers,
Crown with delight the confecrated hours.
Retirement, hail! beneath thy fostering care
The Mufe first gives her callow wing to air;
To thee the liberal Arts their luftre owe,
Plants, that reward the foil wherein they grow.
From thee the POET- whofe illumin'd page
Glows, like the Sun, above the wrecks of age:
From thee the SAGE-whofe meditative mind
Prefcribes the Laws that civilize mankind:
From thee th' HISTORIAN whofe fagacious pen
To man inculcates his first study, MEN:
From thee the keen PHILOSOPHER-whofe eye
Darts through the glooms that shroud futurity.
From thee, Retirement! ALL their glories claim;
Thine the first triumphs in the fields of fame.
BLEST is his lot, from Vice, from Folly free,
Whofe tranquil paffions are arrang'd by thee!
To him, though Faction's difcontented rout
Pronounce deftruction-while themselves are out ;
Though counties, with endemic frenzy curs'd,
Contend and war which cypher shall be first,
To him the clamour but one forrow brings,
That men fhould madden for fuch idle things.
When, darting radiance o'er the brightening fky,
The fun renews his race: or while, on high
The dewy clouds involve the morning ray,
As loth to yield their station to the day,
How fweet the opening morn!-the genial hour,
RETIREMENT! calls thy votary from thy bower,
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