[Greek: 'Asebous men 'estin 'anthropou tas para tou theoucharitas 'atimazein.]EPICT. apud Arrian. II. 23.
There are certain powers in human nature which seem to hold a middle place between the organs of bodily sense and the faculties of moral perception: they have been called by a very general name, the Powers of Imagination. Like the external senses, they relate to matter and motion; and, at the same time, give the mind ideas analogous to those of moral approbation and dislike. As they are the inlets of some of the most exquisite pleasures with which we are acquainted, it has naturally happened that men of warm and sensible tempers have sought means to recall the delightful perceptions which they afford, independent of the objects which originally produced them. This gave rise to the imitative or designing arts; some of which, as painting and sculpture, directly copy the external appearances which were admired in nature; others, as music and poetry, bring them back to remembrance by signs universally established and understood.
But these arts, as they grew more correct and deliberate, were, of course, led to extend their imitation beyond the peculiar objects of the imaginative powers; especially poetry, which, making use of language as the instrument by which it imitates, is consequently become an unlimited representative of every species and mode of being. Yet as their intention was only to express the objects of imagination, and as they still abound chiefly in ideas of that class, they, of course, retain their original character; and all the different pleasures which they excite, are termed, in general, Pleasures of Imagination.
The design of the following poem is to give a view of these in the largest acceptation of the term; so that whatever our imagination feels from the agreeable appearances of nature, and all the various entertainment we meet with, either in poetry, painting, music, or any of the elegant arts, might be deducible from one or other of those principles in the constitution of the human mind which are here established and explained.
In executing this general plan, it was necessary first of all to distinguish the imagination from our other faculties; and in the next place to characterise those original forms or properties of being, about which it is conversant, and which are by nature adapted to it, as light is to the eyes, or truth to the understanding. These properties Mr. Addison had reduced to the three general classes of greatness, novelty, and beauty; and into these we may analyse every object, however complex, which, properly speaking, is delightful to the imagination. But such an object may also include many other sources of pleasure; and its beauty, or novelty, or grandeur, will make a stronger impression by reason of this concurrence. Besides which, the imitative arts, especially poetry, owe much of their effect to a similar exhibition of properties quite foreign to the imagination, insomuch that in every line of the most applauded poems, we meet with either ideas drawn from the external senses, or truths discovered to the understanding, or illustrations of contrivance and final causes, or, above all the rest, with circumstances proper to awaken and engage the passions. It was, therefore, necessary to enumerate and exemplify these different species of pleasure; especially that from the passions, which, as it is supreme in the noblest work of human genius, so being in some particulars not a little surprising, gave an opportunity to enliven the didactic turn of the poem, by introducing an allegory to account for the appearance.
After these parts of the subject which hold chiefly of admiration, or naturally warm and interest the mind, a pleasure of a very different nature, that which arises from ridicule, came next to be considered. As this is the foundation of the comic manner in all the arts, and has been but very imperfectly treated by moral writers, it was thought proper to give it a particular illustration, and to distinguish the general sources from which the ridicule of characters is derived. Here, too, a change of style became necessary; such a one as might yet be consistent, if possible, with the general taste of composition in the serious parts of the subject: nor is it an easy task to give any tolerable force to images of this kind, without running either into the gigantic expressions of the mock heroic, or the familiar and poetical raillery of professed satire; neither of which would have been proper here.
The materials of all imitation being thus laid open, nothing now remained but to illustrate some particular pleasures which arise either from the relations of different objects one to another, or from the nature of imitation itself. Of the first kind is that various and complicated resemblance existing between several parts of the material and immaterial worlds, which is the foundation of metaphor and wit. As it seems in a great measure to depend on the early association of our ideas, and as this habit of associating is the source of many pleasures and pains in life, and on that account bears a great share in the influence of poetry and the other arts, it is therefore mentioned here, and its effects described. Then follows a general account of the production of these elegant arts, and of the secondary pleasure, as it is called, arising from the resemblance of their imitations to the original appearances of nature. After which, the work concludes with some reflections on the general conduct of the powers of imagination, and on their natural and moral usefulness in life.
Concerning the manner or turn of composition which prevails in this piece, little can be said with propriety by the author. He had two models; that ancient and simple one of the first Grecian poets, as it is refined by Virgil in the Georgics, and the familiar epistolary way of Horace. This latter has several advantages. It admits of a greater variety of style; it more readily engages the generality of readers, as partaking more of the air of conversation; and, especially with the assistance of rhyme, leads to a closer and more concise expression. Add to this the example of the most perfect of modern poets, who has so happily applied this manner to the noblest parts of philosophy, that the public taste is in a great measure formed to it alone. Yet, after all, the subject before us, tending almost constantly to admiration and enthusiasm, seemed rather to demand a more open, pathetic, and figured style. This, too, appeared more natural, as the author's aim was not so much to give formal precepts, or enter into the way of direct argumentation, as, by exhibiting the most engaging prospects of nature, to enlarge and harmonise the imagination, and by that means insensibly dispose the minds of men to a similar taste and habit of thinking in religion, morals, and civil life. 'Tis on this account that he is so careful to point out the benevolent intention of the Author of Nature in every principle of the human constitution here insisted on; and also to unite the moral excellencies of life in the same point of view with the mere external objects of good taste; thus recommending them in common to our natural propensity for admiring what is beautiful and lovely. The same views have also led him to introduce some sentiments which may perhaps be looked upon as not quite direct to the subject; but since they bear an obvious relation to it, the authority of Virgil, the faultless model of didactic poetry, will best support him in this particular. For the sentiments themselves he makes no apology.
The subject proposed. Difficulty of treating it poetically. The ideas of the Divine Mind the origin of every quality pleasing to the imagination. The natural variety of constitution in the minds of men; with its final cause. The idea of a fine imagination, and the state of the mind in the enjoyment of those pleasures which it affords. All the primary pleasures of the imagination result from the perception of greatness, or wonderfulness, or beauty in objects. The pleasure from greatness, with its final cause. Pleasure from novelty or wonderfulness, with its final cause. Pleasure from beauty, with its final cause. The connexion of beauty with truth and good, applied to the conduct of life. Invitation to the study of moral philosophy. The different degrees of beauty in different species of objects; colour, shape, natural concretes, vegetables, animals, the mind. The sublime, the fair, the wonderful of the mind. The connexion of the imagination and the moral faculty. Conclusion.
With what attractive charms this goodly frameOf Nature touches the consenting heartsOf mortal men; and what the pleasing storesWhich beauteous Imitation thence derivesTo deck the poet's or the painter's toil,My verse unfolds. Attend, ye gentle PowersOf musical delight! and while I singYour gifts, your honours, dance around my strain.Thou, smiling queen of every tuneful breast,Indulgent Fancy! from the fruitful banks 10Of Avon, whence thy rosy fingers cullFresh flowers and dews to sprinkle on the turfWhere Shakspeare lies, be present: and with theeLet Fiction come, upon her vagrant wingsWafting ten thousand colours through the air,Which, by the glances of her magic eye,She blends and shifts at will, through countless forms,Her wild creation. Goddess of the lyre,Which rules the accents of the moving sphere,Wilt thou, eternal Harmony, descend 20And join this festive train? for with thee comesThe guide, the guardian of their lovely sports,Majestic Truth; and where Truth deigns to come,Her sister Liberty will not be far.Be present all ye Genii, who conductThe wandering footsteps of the youthful bard,New to your springs and shades: who touch his earWith finer sounds: who heighten to his eyeThe bloom of Nature, and before him turnThe gayest, happiest attitude of things. 30Oft have the laws of each poetic strainThe critic-verse employ'd; yet still unsungLay this prime subject, though importing mostA poet's name: for fruitless is the attempt,By dull obedience and by creeping toilObscure to conquer the severe ascentOf high Parnassus. Nature's kindling breathMust fire the chosen genius; Nature's handMust string his nerves, and imp his eagle-wings,Impatient of the painful steep, to soar 40High as the summit; there to breathe at largeAEthereal air, with bards and sages old,Immortal sons of praise. These flattering scenes,To this neglected labour court my song;Yet not unconscious what a doubtful taskTo paint the finest features of the mind,And to most subtile and mysterious thingsGive colour, strength, and motion. But the loveOf Nature and the Muses bids explore,Through secret paths erewhile untrod by man, 50The fair poetic region, to detectUntasted springs, to drink inspiring draughts,And shade my temples with unfading flowersCull'd from the laureate vale's profound recess,Where never poet gain'd a wreath before.From Heaven my strains begin: from Heaven descendsThe flame of genius to the human breast,And love and beauty, and poetic joyAnd inspiration. Ere the radiant sunSprang from the east, or 'mid the vault of night 60The moon suspended her serener lamp;Ere mountains, woods, or streams adorn'd the globe,Or Wisdom taught the sons of men her lore;Then lived the Almighty One: then, deep retiredIn his unfathom'd essence, view'd the forms,The forms eternal of created things;The radiant sun, the moon's nocturnal lamp,The mountains, woods, and streams, the rolling globe,And Wisdom's mien celestial. From the firstOf days, on them his love divine he fix'd, 70His admiration: till in time completeWhat he admired and loved, his vital smileUnfolded into being. Hence the breathOf life informing each organic frame;Hence the green earth, and wild resounding wares;Hence light and shade alternate, warmth and cold,And clear autumnal skies and vernal showers,And all the fair variety of things.But not alike to every mortal eyeIs this great scene unveil'd. For, since the claims 80Of social life to different labours urgeThe active powers of man, with wise intentThe hand of Nature on peculiar mindsImprints a different bias, and to eachDecrees its province in the common toil.To some she taught the fabric of the sphere,The changeful moon, the circuit of the stars,The golden zones of heaven; to some she gaveTo weigh the moment of eternal things,Of time, and space, and fate's unbroken chain, 90And will's quick impulse; others by the handShe led o'er vales and mountains, to exploreWhat healing virtue swells the tender veinsOf herbs and flowers; or what the beams of mornDraw forth, distilling from the clifted rindIn balmy tears. But some, to higher hopesWere destined; some within a finer mouldShe wrought and temper'd with a purer flame.To these the Sire Omnipotent unfoldsThe world's harmonious volume, there to read 100The transcript of Himself. On every partThey trace the bright impressions of his hand:In earth or air, the meadow's purple stores,The moon's mild radiance, or the virgin's formBlooming with rosy smiles, they see portray'dThat uncreated beauty, which delightsThe Mind Supreme. They also feel her charms,Enamour'd; they partake the eternal joy.
For as old Memnon's image, long renown'dBy fabling Nilus, to the quivering touch 110Of Titan's ray, with each repulsive stringConsenting, sounded through the warbling airUnbidden strains, even so did Nature's handTo certain species of external things,Attune the finer organs of the mind;So the glad impulse of congenial powers,Or of sweet sound, or fair proportion'd form,The grace of motion, or the bloom of light,Thrills through Imagination's tender frame,From nerve to nerve; all naked and alive 120They catch the spreading rays; till now the soulAt length discloses every tuneful spring,To that harmonious movement from withoutResponsive. Then the inexpressive strainDiffuses its enchantment: Fancy dreamsOf sacred fountains and Elysian groves,And vales of bliss: the intellectual powerBends from his awful throne a wondering ear,And smiles: the passions, gently soothed away,Sink to divine repose, and love and joy 130Alone are waking; love and joy, sereneAs airs that fan the summer. Oh! attend,Whoe'er thou art, whom these delights can touch,Whose candid bosom the refining loveOf Nature warms, oh! listen to my song;And I will guide thee to her favourite walks,And teach thy solitude her voice to hear,And point her loveliest features to thy view.
Know then, whate'er of Nature's pregnant stores,Whate'er of mimic Art's reflected forms 140With love and admiration thus inflameThe powers of Fancy, her delighted sonsTo three illustrious orders have referr'd;Three sister graces, whom the painter's hand,The poet's tongue confesses—the Sublime,The Wonderful, the Fair. I see them dawn!I see the radiant visions, where they rise,More lovely than when Lucifer displaysHis beaming forehead through the gates of morn,To lead the train of Phoebus and the spring. 150
Say, why was man [Endnote A] so eminently raisedAmid the vast Creation; why ordain'dThrough life and death to dart his piercing eye,With thoughts beyond the limit of his frame;But that the Omnipotent might send him forthIn sight of mortal and immortal powers,As on a boundless theatre, to runThe great career of justice; to exaltHis generous aim to all diviner deeds;To chase each partial purpose from his breast; 160And through the mists of passion and of sense,And through the tossing tide of chance and pain,To hold his course unfaltering, while the voiceOf truth and virtue, up the steep ascentOf nature, calls him to his high reward,The applauding smile of Heaven? Else wherefore burnsIn mortal bosoms this unquenched hope,That breathes from day to day sublimer things,And mocks possession? Wherefore darts the mind,With such resistless ardour to embrace 170Majestic forms; impatient to be free,Spurning the gross control of wilful might;Proud of the strong contention of her toils;Proud to be daring? Who but rather turnsTo heaven's broad fire his unconstrained view, 175Than to the glimmering of a waxen flame?Who that, from Alpine heights, his labouring eyeShoots round the wide horizon, to surveyNilus or Ganges rolling his bright waveThrough mountains, plains, through empires black with shade, 180And continents of sand, will turn his gazeTo mark the windings of a scanty rillThat murmurs at his feet? The high-born soulDisdains to rest her heaven-aspiring wingBeneath its native quarry. Tired of earthAnd this diurnal scene, she springs aloftThrough fields of air; pursues the flying storm;Rides on the vollied lightning through the heavens;Or, yoked with whirlwinds and the northern blast,Sweeps the long tract of day. Then high she soars 190The blue profound, and hovering round the sunBeholds him pouring the redundant streamOf light; beholds his unrelenting swayBend the reluctant planets to absolveThe fated rounds of Time. Thence far effusedShe darts her swiftness up the long careerOf devious comets; through its burning signsExulting measures the perennial wheelOf Nature, and looks back on all the stars,Whose blended light, as with a milky zone, 200Invests the orient. Now amazed she viewsThe empyreal waste, [Endnote B] where happy spirits hold,Beyond this concave heaven, their calm abode;And fields of radiance, whose unfading light [Endnote C]
Has travell'd the profound six thousand years,Nor yet arrives in sight of mortal things.Even on the barriers of the world untiredShe meditates the eternal depth below; 208Till, half recoiling, down the headlong steepShe plunges; soon o'erwhelm'd and swallow'd upIn that immense of being. There her hopesRest at the fated goal. For from the birthOf mortal man, the Sovereign Maker said,That not in humble nor in brief delight,Not in the fading echoes of renown,Power's purple robes, nor pleasure's flowery lap,The soul should find enjoyment: but from theseTurning disdainful to an equal good,Through all the ascent of things enlarge her view,Till every bound at length should disappear, 220And infinite perfection close the scene.
Call now to mind what high capacious powersLie folded up in man; how far beyondThe praise of mortals, may the eternal growthOf Nature to perfection half divine,Expand the blooming soul! What pity thenShould sloth's unkindly fogs depress to earthHer tender blossom; choke the streams of life,And blast her spring! Far otherwise design'dAlmighty Wisdom; Nature's happy cares 230The obedient heart far otherwise incline.Witness the sprightly joy when aught unknownStrikes the quick sense, and wakes each active powerTo brisker measures: witness the neglectOf all familiar prospects, [Endnote D] though beheldWith transport once; the fond attentive gazeOf young astonishment; the sober zealOf age, commenting on prodigious things.For such the bounteous providence of Heaven,In every breast implanting this desire 240Of objects new and strange, [Endnote E] to urge us onWith unremitted labour to pursueThose sacred stores that wait the ripening soul,In Truth's exhaustless bosom. What need wordsTo paint its power? For this the daring youthBreaks from his weeping mother's anxious arms,In foreign climes to rove; the pensive sage,Heedless of sleep, or midnight's harmful damp,Hangs o'er the sickly taper; and untiredThe virgin follows, with enchanted step, 250The mazes of some wild and wondrous tale,From morn to eve; unmindful of her form,Unmindful of the happy dress that stoleThe wishes of the youth, when every maidWith envy pined. Hence, finally, by nightThe village matron, round the blazing hearth,Suspends the infant audience with her tales,Breathing astonishment! of witching rhymes,And evil spirits; of the death-bed callOf him who robb'd the widow, and devour'd 260The orphan's portion; of unquiet soulsRisen from the grave to ease the heavy guiltOf deeds in life conceal'd; of shapes that walkAt dead of night, and clank their chains, and waveThe torch of hell around the murderer's bed.At every solemn pause the crowd recoil,Gazing each other speechless, and congeal'dWith shivering sighs: till eager for the event,Around the beldame all erect they hang,Each trembling heart with grateful terrors quell'd. 270
But lo! disclosed in all her smiling pomp,Where Beauty onward moving claims the verseHer charms inspire: the freely-flowing verseIn thy immortal praise, O form divine,Smooths her mellifluent stream. Thee, Beauty, theeThe regal dome, and thy enlivening rayThe mossy roofs adore: thou, better sun!For ever beamest on the enchanted heartLove, and harmonious wonder, and delightPoetic. Brightest progeny of Heaven! 280How shall I trace thy features? where selectThe roseate hues to emulate thy bloom?Haste then, my song, through Nature's wide expanse,Haste then, and gather all her comeliest wealth,Whate'er bright spoils the florid earth contains,Whate'er the waters, or the liquid air,To deck thy lovely labour. Wilt thou flyWith laughing Autumn to the Atlantic isles,And range with him the Hesperian field, and seeWhere'er his fingers touch the fruitful grove, 290The branches shoot with gold; where'er his stepMarks the glad soil, the tender clusters growWith purple ripeness, and invest each hillAs with the blushes of an evening sky?Or wilt thou rather stoop thy vagrant plume,Where gliding through his daughters honour'd shades,The smooth Penéus from his glassy floodReflects purpureal Tempo's pleasant scene?Fair Tempe! haunt beloved of sylvan Powers,Of Nymphs and Fauns; where in the golden age 300They play'd in secret on the shady brinkWith ancient Pan: while round their choral stepsYoung Hours and genial Gales with constant handShower'd blossoms, odours, shower'd ambrosial dews,And spring's Elysian bloom. Her flowery storeTo thee nor Tempe shall refuse; nor watchOf winged Hydra guard Hesperian fruitsFrom thy free spoil. Oh, bear then, unreproved,Thy smiling treasures to the green recessWhere young Dione stays. With sweetest airs 310Entice her forth to lend her angel formFor Beauty's honour'd image. Hither turnThy graceful footsteps; hither, gentle maid,Incline thy polish'd forehead: let thy eyesEffuse the mildness of their azure dawn;And may the fanning breezes waft asideThy radiant locks: disclosing, as it bendsWith airy softness from the marble neck,The cheek fair-blooming, and the rosy lip,Where winning smiles and pleasures sweet as love, 320With sanctity and wisdom, tempering blendTheir soft allurement. Then the pleasing forceOf Nature, and her kind parental careWorthier I'd sing: then all the enamour'd youth,With each admiring virgin, to my lyreShould throng attentive, while I point on highWhere Beauty's living image, like the MornThat wakes in Zephyr's arms the blushing May,Moves onward; or as Venus, when she stoodEffulgent on the pearly car, and smiled, 330Fresh from the deep, and conscious of her form,To see the Tritons tune their vocal shells,And each cerulean sister of the floodWith loud acclaim attend her o'er the waves,To seek the Idalian bower. Ye smiling bandOf youths and virgins, who through all the mazeOf young desire with rival steps pursueThis charm of Beauty, if the pleasing toilCan yield a moment's respite, hither turnYour favourable ear, and trust my words. 340I do not mean to wake the gloomy formOf Superstition dress'd in Wisdom's garb,To damp your tender hopes; I do not meanTo bid the jealous thunderer fire the heavens,Or shapes infernal rend the groaning earthTo fright you from your joys: my cheerful songWith better omens calls you to the field,Pleased with your generous ardour in the chase,And warm like you. Then tell me, for ye know,Does Beauty ever deign to dwell where health 350And active use are strangers? Is her charmConfess'd in aught, whose most peculiar endsAre lame and fruitless? Or did Nature meanThis pleasing call the herald of a lie,To hide the shame of discord and disease,And catch with fair hypocrisy the heartOf idle faith? Oh, no! with better caresThe indulgent mother, conscious how infirmHer offspring tread the paths of good and ill,By this illustrious image, in each kind 360Still most illustrious where the object holdsIts native powers most perfect, she by thisIllumes the headstrong impulse of desire,And sanctifies his choice. The generous glebeWhose bosom smiles with verdure, the clear tractOf streams delicious to the thirsty soul,The bloom of nectar'd fruitage ripe to sense,And every charm of animated things,Are only pledges of a state sincere,The integrity and order of their frame, 370When all is well within, and every endAccomplish'd. Thus was Beauty sent from heaven,The lovely ministries of Truth and GoodIn this dark world: for Truth and Good are one,And Beauty dwells in them, [Endnote F] and they in her,With like participation. Wherefore then,O sons of earth! would ye dissolve the tie?Oh! wherefore, with a rash impetuous aim,Seek ye those flowery joys with which the handOf lavish Fancy paints each flattering scene 380Where Beauty seems to dwell, nor once inquireWhere is the sanction of eternal Truth,Or where the seal of undeceitful Good,To save your search from folly! Wanting these,Lo! Beauty withers in your void embrace,And with the glittering of an idiot's toyDid Fancy mock your vows. Nor let the gleamOf youthful hope that shines upon your hearts,Be chill'd or clouded at this awful task,To learn the lore of undeceitful Good, 390And Truth eternal. Though the poisonous charmsOf baleful Superstition guide the feetOf servile numbers, through a dreary wayTo their abode, through deserts, thorns, and mire;And leave the wretched pilgrim all forlornTo muse at last, amid the ghostly gloomOf graves, and hoary vaults, and cloister'd cells;To walk with spectres through the midnight shade,And to the screaming owl's accursed songAttune the dreadful workings of his heart; 400Yet be not ye dismay'd. A gentler starYour lovely search illumines. From the groveWhere Wisdom talk'd with her Athenian sons,Could my ambitious hand entwine a wreathOf Plato's olive with the Mantuan bay,Then should my powerful verse at once dispelThose monkish horrors: then in light divineDisclose the Elysian prospect, where the stepsOf those whom Nature charms, through blooming walks,Through fragrant mountains and poetic streams, 410Amid the train of sages, heroes, bards,Led by their winged Genius, and the choirOf laurell'd science and harmonious art,Proceed exulting to the eternal shrine,Where Truth conspicuous with her sister-twins,The undivided partners of her sway,With Good and Beauty reigns. Oh, let not us,Lull'd by luxurious Pleasure's languid strain,Or crouching to the frowns of bigot rage,Oh, let us not a moment pause to join 420That godlike band. And if the gracious PowerWho first awaken'd my untutor'd song,Will to my invocation breathe anewThe tuneful spirit; then through all our paths,Ne'er shall the sound of this devoted lyreBe wanting; whether on the rosy mead,When summer smiles, to warn the melting heartOf luxury's allurement; whether firmAgainst the torrent and the stubborn hillTo urge bold Virtue's unremitted nerve, 430And wake the strong divinity of soulThat conquers chance and fate; or whether struckFor sounds of triumph, to proclaim her toilsUpon the lofty summit, round her browTo twine the wreath of incorruptive praise;To trace her hallow'd light through future worlds,And bless Heaven's image in the heart of man.
Thus with a faithful aim have we presumed,Adventurous, to delineate Nature's form;Whether in vast, majestic pomp array'd, 440Or dress'd for pleasing wonder, or sereneIn Beauty's rosy smile. It now remains,Through various being's fair proportion'd scale,To trace the rising lustre of her charms,From their first twilight, shining forth at lengthTo full meridian splendour. Of degreeThe least and lowliest, in the effusive warmthOf colours mingling with a random blaze,Doth Beauty dwell. Then higher in the lineAnd variation of determined shape, 450Where Truth's eternal measures mark the boundOf circle, cube, or sphere. The third ascentUnites this varied symmetry of partsWith colour's bland allurement; as the pearlShines in the concave of its azure bed,And painted shells indent their speckled wreath.Then more attractive rise the blooming formsThrough which the breath of Nature has infusedHer genial power to draw with pregnant veinsNutritious moisture from the bounteous earth, 460In fruit and seed prolific: thus the flowersTheir purple honours with the Spring resume;And such the stately tree which Autumn bendsWith blushing treasures. But more lovely stillIs Nature's charm, where to the full consentOf complicated members, to the bloomOf colour, and the vital change of growth,Life's holy flame and piercing sense are given,And active motion speaks the temper'd soul:So moves the bird of Juno; so the steed 470With rival ardour beats the dusty plain,And faithful dogs with eager airs of joySalute their fellows. Thus doth Beauty dwellThere most conspicuous, even in outward shape,Where dawns the high expression of a mind:By steps conducting our enraptured searchTo that eternal origin, whose power,Through all the unbounded symmetry of things,Like rays effulging from the parent sun,This endless mixture of her charms diffused. 480Mind, mind alone, (bear witness, earth and heaven!)The living fountains in itself containsOf beauteous and sublime: here hand in hand,Sit paramount the Graces; here enthroned,Celestial Venus, with divinest airs,Invites the soul to never-fading joy.Look then abroad through nature, to the rangeOf planets, suns, and adamantine spheresWheeling unshaken through the void immense;And speak, O man! does this capacious scene 490With half that kindling majesty dilateThy strong conception, as when Brutus rose [Endnote G]Refulgent from the stroke of Caesar's fate,Amid the crowd of patriots; and his armAloft extending, like eternal JoveWhen guilt brings down the thunder, call'd aloudOn Tully's name, and shook his crimson steel,And bade the father of his country, hail!For lo! the tyrant prostrate on the dust,And Rome again is free! Is aught so fair 500In all the dewy landscapes of the Spring,In the bright eye of Hesper, or the morn,In Nature's fairest forms, is aught so fairAs virtuous friendship? as the candid blushOf him who strives with fortune to be just?The graceful tear that streams for others' woes?Or the mild majesty of private life,Where Peace with ever blooming olive crownsThe gate; where Honour's liberal hands effuseUnenvied treasures, and the snowy wings 510Of Innocence and Love protect the scene?Once more search, undismay'd, the dark profoundWhere Nature works in secret; view the bedsOf mineral treasure, and the eternal vaultThat bounds the hoary ocean; trace the formsOf atoms moving with incessant changeTheir elemental round; behold the seedsOf being, and the energy of lifeKindling the mass with ever-active flame;Then to the secrets of the working mind 520Attentive turn; from dim oblivion callHer fleet, ideal band; and bid them, go!Break through time's barrier, and o'ertake the hourThat saw the heavens created: then declareIf aught were found in those external scenesTo move thy wonder now. For what are allThe forms which brute, unconscious matter wears,Greatness of bulk, or symmetry of parts?Not reaching to the heart, soon feeble growsThe superficial impulse; dull their charms, 530And satiate soon, and pall the languid eye.Not so the moral species, nor the powersOf genius and design; the ambitious mindThere sees herself: by these congenial formsTouch'd and awaken'd, with intenser actShe bends each nerve, and meditates well pleasedHer features in the mirror. For, of allThe inhabitants of earth, to man aloneCreative Wisdom gave to lift his eyeTo Truth's eternal measures; thence to frame 540The sacred laws of action and of will,Discerning justice from unequal deeds,And temperance from folly. But beyondThis energy of Truth, whose dictates bindAssenting reason, the benignant Sire,To deck the honour'd paths of just and good,Has added bright Imagination's rays:Where Virtue, rising from the awful depthOf Truth's mysterious bosom, [Endnote H] doth forsakeThe unadorn'd condition of her birth; 550And dress'd by Fancy in ten thousand hues,Assumes a various feature, to attract,With charms responsive to each gazer's eye,The hearts of men. Amid his rural walk,The ingenuous youth, whom solitude inspiresWith purest wishes, from the pensive shadeBeholds her moving, like a virgin museThat wakes her lyre to some indulgent themeOf harmony and wonder: while amongThe herd of servile minds, her strenuous form 560Indignant flashes on the patriot's eye,And through the rolls of memory appealsTo ancient honour; or in act serene,Yet watchful, raises the majestic swordOf public Power, from dark Ambition's reachTo guard the sacred volume of the laws.
Genius of ancient Greece! whose faithful stepsWell pleased I follow through the sacred pathsOf Nature and of Science; nurse divineOf all heroic deeds and fair desires! 570Oh! let the breath of thy extended praiseInspire my kindling bosom to the heightOf this untempted theme. Nor be my thoughtsPresumptuous counted, if, amid the calmThat soothes this vernal evening into smiles,I steal impatient from the sordid hauntsOf strife and low ambition, to attendThy sacred presence in the sylvan shade,By their malignant footsteps ne'er profaned.Descend, propitious, to my favour'd eye! 580Such in thy mien, thy warm, exalted air,As when the Persian tyrant, foil'd and stungWith shame and desperation, gnash'd his teethTo see thee rend the pageants of his throne;And at the lightning of thy lifted spearCrouch'd like a slave. Bring all thy martial spoils,Thy palms, thy laurels, thy triumphal songs,Thy smiling band of art, thy godlike siresOf civil wisdom, thy heroic youthWarm from the schools of glory. Guide my way 590Through fair Lycéum's [Endnote I] walk, the green retreatsOf Academus, [Endnote J] and the thymy vale,Where oft enchanted with Socratic sounds,Ilissus [Endnote K] pure devolved his tuneful streamIn gentler murmurs. From the blooming storeOf these auspicious fields, may I unblamedTransplant some living blossoms to adornMy native clime: while far above the flightOf Fancy's plume aspiring, I unlockThe springs of ancient wisdom! while I join 600Thy name, thrice honour'd! with the immortal praiseOf Nature; while to my compatriot youthI point the high example of thy sons,And tune to Attic themes the British lyre.
The separation of the works of Imagination from Philosophy, the cause of their abuse among the moderns. Prospect of their reunion under the influence of public Liberty. Enumeration of accidental pleasures, which increase the effect of objects delightful to the Imagination. The pleasures of sense. Particular circumstances of the mind. Discovery of truth. Perception of contrivance and design. Emotion of the passions. All the natural passions partake of a pleasing sensation; with the final cause of this constitution illustrated by an allegorical vision, and exemplified in sorrow, pity, terror, and indignation.
When shall the laurel and the vocal stringResume their honours? When shall we beholdThe tuneful tongue, the Promethéan bandAspire to ancient praise? Alas! how faint,How slow the dawn of Beauty and of TruthBreaks the reluctant shades of Gothic nightWhich yet involves the nations! Long they groan'dBeneath the furies of rapacious force;Oft as the gloomy north, with iron swarmsTempestuous pouring from her frozen caves, 10Blasted the Italian shore, and swept the worksOf Liberty and Wisdom down the gulfOf all-devouring night. As long immuredIn noontide darkness, by the glimmering lamp,Each Muse and each fair Science pined awayThe sordid hours: while foul, barbarian handsTheir mysteries profaned, unstrung the lyre,And chain'd the soaring pinion down to earth.At last the Muses rose, [Endnote L] and spurn'd their bonds,And, wildly warbling, scatter'd as they flew, 20Their blooming wreaths from fair Valclusa's [Endnote M] bowersTo Arno's [Endnote N] myrtle border and the shoreOf soft Parthenopé. [Endnote O] But still the rageOf dire ambition [Endnote P] and gigantic power,From public aims and from the busy walkOf civil commerce, drove the bolder trainOf penetrating Science to the cells,Where studious Ease consumes the silent hourIn shadowy searches and unfruitful care.Thus from their guardians torn, the tender arts [Endnote Q] 30Of mimic fancy and harmonious joy,To priestly domination and the lustOf lawless courts, their amiable toilFor three inglorious ages have resign'd,In vain reluctant: and Torquato's tongueWas tuned for slavish pasans at the throneOf tinsel pomp: and Raphael's magic handEffused its fair creation to enchantThe fond adoring herd in Latian fanesTo blind belief; while on their prostrate necks 40The sable tyrant plants his heel secure.But now, behold! the radiant era dawns,When freedom's ample fabric, fix'd at lengthFor endless years on Albion's happy shoreIn full proportion, once more shall extendTo all the kindred powers of social blissA common mansion, a parental roof.There shall the Virtues, there shall Wisdom's train,Their long-lost friends rejoining, as of old,Embrace the smiling family of Arts, 50The Muses and the Graces. Then no moreShall Vice, distracting their delicious giftsTo aims abhorr'd, with high distaste and scornTurn from their charms the philosophic eye,The patriot bosom; then no more the pathsOf public care or intellectual toil,Alone by footsteps haughty and severeIn gloomy state be trod: the harmonious MuseAnd her persuasive sisters then shall plantTheir sheltering laurels o'er the bleak ascent, 60And scatter flowers along the rugged way.Arm'd with the lyre, already have we daredTo pierce divine Philosophy's retreats,And teach the Muse her lore; already stroveTheir long-divided honours to unite,While tempering this deep argument we sangOf Truth and Beauty. Now the same glad taskImpends; now urging our ambitious toil,We hasten to recount the various springsOf adventitious pleasure, which adjoin 70Their grateful influence to the prime effectOf objects grand or beauteous, and enlargeThe complicated joy. The sweets of sense,Do they not oft with kind accession flow,To raise harmonious Fancy's native charm?So while we taste the fragrance of the rose,Glows not her blush the fairer? While we viewAmid the noontide walk a limpid rillGush through the trickling herbage, to the thirstOf summer yielding the delicious draught 80Of cool refreshment, o'er the mossy brinkShines not the surface clearer, and the wavesWith sweeter music murmur as they flow?
Nor this alone; the various lot of lifeOft from external circumstance assumesA moment's disposition to rejoiceIn those delights which, at a different hour,Would pass unheeded. Fair the face of Spring,When rural songs and odours wake the morn,To every eye; but how much more to his 90Round whom the bed of sickness long diffusedIts melancholy gloom! how doubly fair,When first with fresh-born vigour he inhalesThe balmy breeze, and feels the blessed sunWarm at his bosom, from the springs of lifeChasing oppressive damps and languid pain!
Or shall I mention, where celestial TruthHer awful light discloses, to bestowA more majestic pomp on Beauty's frame?For man loves knowledge, and the beams of Truth 100More welcome touch his understanding's eye,Than all the blandishments of sound his ear,Than all of taste his tongue. Nor ever yetThe melting rainbow's vernal-tinctured huesTo me have shown so pleasing, as when firstThe hand of Science pointed out the pathIn which the sunbeams, gleaming from the west,Fall on the watery cloud, whose darksome veilInvolves the orient; and that trickling showerPiercing through every crystalline convex 110Of clustering dewdrops to their flight opposed,Recoil at length where concave all behindThe internal surface of each glassy orbRepels their forward passage into air;That thence direct they seek the radiant goalFrom which their course began; and, as they strikeIn different lines the gazer's obvious eye,Assume a different lustre, through the bredeOf colours changing from the splendid roseTo the pale violet's dejected hue. 120
Or shall we touch that kind access of joy,That springs to each fair object, while we trace,Through all its fabric, Wisdom's artful aim,Disposing every part, and gaining still,By means proportion'd, her benignant end?Speak ye, the pure delight, whose favour'd stepsThe lamp of Science through the jealous mazeOf Nature guides, when haply you revealHer secret honours: whether in the sky,The beauteous laws of light, the central powers 130That wheel the pensile planets round the year;Whether in wonders of the rolling deep,Or the rich fruits of all-sustaining earth,Or fine-adjusted springs of life and sense,Ye scan the counsels of their Author's hand.
What, when to raise the meditated scene,The flame of passion, through the struggling soulDeep-kindled, shows across that sudden blazeThe object of its rapture, vast of size,With fiercer colours and a night of shade? 140What, like a storm from their capacious bedThe sounding seas o'erwhelming, when the mightOf these eruptions, working from the depthOf man's strong apprehension, shakes his frameEven to the base; from every naked senseOf pain or pleasure, dissipating allOpinion's feeble coverings, and the veilSpun from the cobweb fashion of the timesTo hide the feeling heart? Then Nature speaksHer genuine language, and the words of men, 150Big with the very motion of their souls,Declare with what accumulated forceThe impetuous nerve of passion urges onThe native weight and energy of things.
Yet more: her honours where nor Beauty claims,Nor shows of good the thirsty sense allure,From passion's power alone [Endnote R] our nature holdsEssential pleasure. Passion's fierce illapseRouses the mind's whole fabric; with suppliesOf daily impulse keeps the elastic powers 160Intensely poised, and polishes anewBy that collision all the fine machine:Else rust would rise, and foulness, by degreesEncumbering, choke at last what heaven design'dFor ceaseless motion and a round of toil.—But say, does every passion thus to manAdminister delight? That name indeedBecomes the rosy breath of love; becomesThe radiant smiles of joy, the applauding handOf admiration: but the bitter shower 170That sorrow sheds upon a brother's grave;But the dumb palsy of nocturnal fear,Or those consuming fires that gnaw the heartOf panting indignation, find we thereTo move delight?—Then listen while my tongueThe unalter'd will of Heaven with faithful aweReveals; what old Harmodius wont to teachMy early age; Harmodius, who had weigh'dWithin his learned mind whate'er the schoolsOf Wisdom, or thy lonely-whispering voice, 180O faithful Nature! dictate of the lawsWhich govern and support this mighty frameOf universal being. Oft the hoursFrom morn to eve have stolen unmark'd away,While mute attention hung upon his lips,As thus the sage his awful tale began:—
''Twas in the windings of an ancient wood,When spotless youth with solitude resignsTo sweet philosophy the studious day,What time pale Autumn shades the silent eve, 190Musing I roved. Of good and evil much,And much of mortal man my thought revolved;When starting full on fancy's gushing eyeThe mournful image of Parthenia's fate,That hour, O long beloved and long deplored!When blooming youth, nor gentlest wisdom's arts,Nor Hymen's honours gather'd for thy brow,Nor all thy lover's, all thy father's tearsAvail'd to snatch thee from the cruel grave;Thy agonising looks, thy last farewell 200Struck to the inmost feeling of my soulAs with the hand of Death. At once the shadeMore horrid nodded o'er me, and the windsWith hoarser murmuring shook the branches. DarkAs midnight storms, the scene of human thingsAppear'd before me; deserts, burning sands,Where the parch'd adder dies; the frozen south,And desolation blasting all the westWith rapine and with murder: tyrant powerHere sits enthroned with blood; the baleful charms 210Of superstition there infect the skies,And turn the sun to horror. Gracious Heaven!What is the life of man? Or cannot these,Not these portents thy awful will suffice,That, propagated thus beyond their scope,They rise to act their cruelties anewIn my afflicted bosom, thus decreedThe universal sensitive of pain,The wretched heir of evils not its own?'
Thus I impatient: when, at once effused, 220A flashing torrent of celestial dayBurst through the shadowy void. With slow descentA purple cloud came floating through the sky,And, poised at length within the circling trees,Hung obvious to my view; till opening wideIts lucid orb, a more than human formEmerging lean'd majestic o'er my head,And instant thunder shook the conscious grove.Then melted into air the liquid cloud,And all the shining vision stood reveal'd. 230A wreath of palm his ample forehead bound,And o'er his shoulder, mantling to his knee,Flow'd the transparent robe, around his waistCollected with a radiant zone of goldAethereal: there in mystic signs engraved,I read his office high and sacred name,Genius of human kind! Appall'd I gazedThe godlike presence; for athwart his browDispleasure, temper'd with a mild concern,Look'd down reluctant on me, and his words 240Like distant thunders broke the murmuring air:
'Vain are thy thoughts, O child of mortal birth!And impotent thy tongue. Is thy short spanCapacious of this universal frame?—Thy wisdom all-sufficient? Thou, alas!Dost thou aspire to judge between the LordOf Nature and his works—to lift thy voiceAgainst the sovereign order he decreed,All good and lovely—to blaspheme the bandsOf tenderness innate and social love, 250Holiest of things! by which the general orbOf being, as by adamantine links,Was drawn to perfect union, and sustain'dFrom everlasting? Hast thou felt the pangsOf softening sorrow, of indignant zeal,So grievous to the soul, as thence to wishThe ties of Nature broken from thy frame,That so thy selfish, unrelenting heartMight cease to mourn its lot, no longer thenThe wretched heir of evils not its own? 260O fair benevolence of generous minds!O man by Nature form'd for all mankind!'
He spoke; abash'd and silent I remain'd,As conscious of my tongue's offence, and awedBefore his presence, though my secret soulDisdain'd the imputation. On the groundI fix'd my eyes, till from his airy couchHe stoop'd sublime, and touching with his handMy dazzling forehead, 'Raise thy sight,' he cried,'And let thy sense convince thy erring tongue.' 270
I look'd, and lo! the former scene was changed;For verdant alleys and surrounding trees,A solitary prospect, wide and wild,Rush'd on my senses. 'Twas a horrid pileOf hills with many a shaggy forest mix'd,With many a sable cliff and glittering stream.Aloft, recumbent o'er the hanging ridge,The brown woods waved; while ever-trickling springsWash'd from the naked roots of oak and pineThe crumbling soil; and still at every fall 280Down the steep windings of the channel'd rock,Remurmuring rush'd the congregated floodsWith hoarser inundation; till at lastThey reach'd a grassy plain, which from the skirtsOf that high desert spread her verdant lap,And drank the gushing moisture, where confinedIn one smooth current, o'er the lilied valeClearer than glass it flow'd. Autumnal spoilsLuxuriant spreading to the rays of morn,Blush'd o'er the cliffs, whose half-encircling mound 290As in a sylvan theatre enclosedThat flowery level. On the river's brinkI spied a fair pavilion, which diffusedIts floating umbrage 'mid the silver shadeOf osiers. Now the western sun reveal'dBetween two parting cliffs his golden orb,And pour'd across the shadow of the hills,On rocks and floods, a yellow stream of lightThat cheer'd the solemn scene. My listening powersWere awed, and every thought in silence hung, 300And wondering expectation. Then the voiceOf that celestial power, the mystic showDeclaring, thus my deep attention call'd:—
'Inhabitant of earth, [Endnote S] to whom is givenThe gracious ways of Providence to learn,Receive my sayings with a steadfast ear—Know then, the Sovereign Spirit of the world,Though, self-collected from eternal time,Within his own deep essence he beheldThe bounds of true felicity complete, 310Yet by immense benignity inclinedTo spread around him that primeval joyWhich fill'd himself, he raised his plastic arm,And sounded through the hollow depths of spaceThe strong, creative mandate. Straight aroseThese heavenly orbs, the glad abodes of life,Effusive kindled by his breath divineThrough endless forms of being. Each inhaledFrom him its portion of the vital flame,In measure such, that, from the wide complex 320Of coexistent orders, one might rise,One order, [Endnote T] all-involving and entire.He too, beholding in the sacred lightOf his essential reason, all the shapesOf swift contingence, all successive tiesOf action propagated through the sumOf possible existence, he at once,Down the long series of eventful time,So fix'd the dates of being, so disposed,To every living soul of every kind 330The field of motion and the hour of rest,That all conspired to his supreme design,To universal good: with full accordAnswering the mighty model he had chose,The best and fairest [Endnote U] of unnumber'd worldsThat lay from everlasting in the storeOf his divine conceptions. Nor content,By one exertion of creative powerHis goodness to reveal; through every age,Through every moment up the tract of time, 340His parent hand with ever new increaseOf happiness and virtue has adorn'dThe vast harmonious frame: his parent hand,From the mute shell-fish gasping on the shore,To men, to angels, to celestial minds,For ever leads the generations onTo higher scenes of being; while, suppliedFrom day to day with his enlivening breath,Inferior orders in succession riseTo fill the void below. As flame ascends, [Endnote V] 350As bodies to their proper centre move,As the poised ocean to the attracting moonObedient swells, and every headlong streamDevolves its winding waters to the main;So all things which have life aspire to God,The sun of being, boundless, unimpair'd,Centre of souls! Nor does the faithful voiceOf Nature cease to prompt their eager stepsAright; nor is the care of Heaven withheldFrom granting to the task proportion'd aid; 360That in their stations all may persevereTo climb the ascent of being, and approachFor ever nearer to the life divine.—
'That rocky pile thou seest, that verdant lawnFresh-water'd from the mountains. Let the scenePaint in thy fancy the primeval seatOf man, and where the Will Supreme ordain'dHis mansion, that pavilion fair-diffusedAlong the shady brink; in this recessTo wear the appointed season of his youth, 370Till riper hours should open to his toilThe high communion of superior minds,Of consecrated heroes and of gods.Nor did the Sire Omnipotent forgetHis tender bloom to cherish; nor withheldCelestial footsteps from his green abode.Oft from the radiant honours of his throne,He sent whom most he loved, the sovereign fair,The effluence of his glory, whom he placedBefore his eyes for ever to behold; 380The goddess from whose inspiration flowsThe toil of patriots, the delight of friends;Without whose work divine, in heaven or earth,Nought lovely, nought propitious, conies to pass,Nor hope, nor praise, nor honour. Her the SireGave it in charge to rear the blooming mind,The folded powers to open, to directThe growth luxuriant of his young desires,And from the laws of this majestic worldTo teach him what was good. As thus the nymph 390Her daily care attended, by her sideWith constant steps her gay companion stay'd,The fair Euphrosyné, the gentle queenOf smiles, and graceful gladness, and delightsThat cheer alike the hearts of mortal menAnd powers immortal. See the shining pair!Behold, where from his dwelling now disclosedThey quit their youthful charge and seek the skies.'
I look'd, and on the flowery turf there stoodBetween two radiant forms a smiling youth 400Whose tender cheeks display'd the vernal flowerOf beauty: sweetest innocence illumedHis bashful eyes, and on his polish'd browSate young simplicity. With fond regardHe view'd the associates, as their steps they moved;The younger chief his ardent eyes detain'd,With mild regret invoking her return.Bright as the star of evening she appear'dAmid the dusky scene. Eternal youthO'er all her form its glowing honours breathed; 410And smiles eternal from her candid eyesFlow'd, like the dewy lustre of the mornEffusive trembling on the placid waves.The spring of heaven had shed its blushing spoilsTo bind her sable tresses: full diffusedHer yellow mantle floated in the breeze;And in her hand she waved a living branchRich with immortal fruits, of power to calmThe wrathful heart, and from the brightening eyesTo chase the cloud of sadness. More sublime 420The heavenly partner moved. The prime of ageComposed her steps. The presence of a god,High on the circle of her brow enthroned,From each majestic motion darted awe,Devoted awe! till, cherish'd by her looksBenevolent and meek, confiding loveTo filial rapture soften'd all the soul.Free in her graceful hand she poised the swordOf chaste dominion. An heroic crownDisplay'd the old simplicity of pomp 430Around her honour'd head. A matron's robe,White as the sunshine streams through vernal clouds,Her stately form invested. Hand in handThe immortal pair forsook the enamel'd green,Ascending slowly. Rays of limpid lightGleam'd round their path; celestial sounds were heard,And through the fragrant air ethereal dewsDistill'd around them; till at once the clouds,Disparting wide in midway sky, withdrewTheir airy veil, and left a bright expanse 440Of empyrean flame, where, spent and drown'd,Afflicted vision plunged in vain to scanWhat object it involved. My feeble eyesEndured not. Bending down to earth I stood,With dumb attention. Soon a female voice,As watery murmurs sweet, or warbling shades,With sacred invocation thus began:
'Father of gods and mortals! whose right armWith reins eternal guides the moving heavens,Bend thy propitious ear. Behold well pleased 450I seek to finish thy divine decree.With frequent steps I visit yonder seatOf man, thy offspring; from the tender seedsOf justice and of wisdom, to evolveThe latent honours of his generous frame;Till thy conducting hand shall raise his lotFrom earth's dim scene to these ethereal walks,The temple of thy glory. But not me,Not my directing voice he oft requires,Or hears delighted: this enchanting maid, 460The associate thou hast given me, her aloneHe loves, O Father! absent, her he craves;And but for her glad presence ever join'd,Rejoices not in mine: that all my hopesThis thy benignant purpose to fulfil,I deem uncertain: and my daily caresUnfruitful all and vain, unless by theeStill further aided in the work divine.'
She ceased; a voice more awful thus replied:—'O thou, in whom for ever I delight, 470Fairer than all the inhabitants of Heaven,Best image of thy Author! far from theeBe disappointment, or distaste, or blame;Who soon or late shalt every work fulfil,And no resistance find. If man refuseTo hearken to thy dictates; or, alluredBy meaner joys, to any other powerTransfer the honours due to thee alone;That joy which he pursues he ne'er shall taste,That power in whom delighteth ne'er behold. 480Go then, once more, and happy be thy toil;Go then! but let not this thy smiling friendPartake thy footsteps. In her stead, behold!With thee the son of Nemesis I send;The fiend abhorr'd! whose vengeance takes accountOf sacred order's violated laws.See where he calls thee, burning to be gone,Pierce to exhaust the tempest of his wrathOn yon devoted head. But thou, my child,Control his cruel frenzy, and protect 490Thy tender charge; that when despair shall graspHis agonising bosom, he may learn,Then he may learn to love the gracious handAlone sufficient in the hour of ill,To save his feeble spirit; then confessThy genuine honours, O excelling fair!When all the plagues that wait the deadly willOf this avenging demon, all the stormsOf night infernal, serve but to displayThe energy of thy superior charms 500With mildest awe triumphant o'er his rage,And shining clearer in the horrid gloom.'
Here ceased that awful voice, and soon I feltThe cloudy curtain of refreshing eveWas closed once more, from that immortal fireSheltering my eyelids. Looking up, I view'dA vast gigantic spectre striding onThrough murmuring thunders and a waste of clouds,With dreadful action. Black as night his browRelentless frowns involved. His savage limbs 510With sharp impatience violent he writhed,As through convulsive anguish; and his hand,Arm'd with a scorpion lash, full oft he raisedIn madness to his bosom; while his eyesRain'd bitter tears, and bellowing loud he shookThe void with horror. Silent by his sideThe virgin came. No discomposure stirr'dHer features. From the glooms which hung around,No stain of darkness mingled with the beamOf her divine effulgence. Now they stoop 520Upon the river bank; and now to hailHis wonted guests, with eager steps advancedThe unsuspecting inmate of the shade.
As when a famish'd wolf, that all night longHad ranged the Alpine snows, by chance at mornSees from a cliff, incumbent o'er the smokeOf some lone village, a neglected kidThat strays along the wild for herb or spring;Down from the winding ridge he sweeps amain,And thinks he tears him: so with tenfold rage, 530The monster sprung remorseless on his prey.Amazed the stripling stood: with panting breastFeebly he pour'd the lamentable wailOf helpless consternation, struck at once,And rooted to the ground. The Queen beheldHis terror, and with looks of tenderest careAdvanced to save him. Soon the tyrant feltHer awful power. His keen tempestuous armHung nerveless, nor descended where his rageHad aim'd the deadly blow: then dumb retired 540With sullen rancour. Lo! the sovereign maidFolds with a mother's arms the fainting boy,Till life rekindles in his rosy cheek;Then grasps his hands, and cheers him with her tongue:—
'Oh, wake thee, rouse thy spirit! Shall the spiteOf yon tormentor thus appal thy heart,While I, thy friend and guardian, am at handTo rescue and to heal? Oh, let thy soulRemember, what the will of heaven ordainsIs ever good for all; and if for all, 550Then good for thee. Nor only by the warmthAnd soothing sunshine of delightful things,Do minds grow up and flourish. Oft misledBy that bland light, the young unpractised viewsOf reason wander through a fatal road,Far from their native aim; as if to lieInglorious in the fragrant shade, and waitThe soft access of ever circling joys,Were all the end of being. Ask thyself,This pleasing error did it never lull 560Thy wishes? Has thy constant heart refusedThe silken fetters of delicious ease?Or when divine Euphrosyné appear'dWithin this dwelling, did not thy desiresHang far below the measure of thy fate,Which I reveal'd before thee, and thy eyes,Impatient of my counsels, turn awayTo drink the soft effusion of her smiles?Know then, for this the everlasting SireDeprives thee of her presence, and instead, 570O wise and still benevolent! ordainsThis horrid visage hither to pursueMy steps; that so thy nature may discernIts real good, and what alone can saveThy feeble spirit in this hour of illFrom folly and despair. O yet beloved!Let not this headlong terror quite o'erwhelmThy scatter'd powers; nor fatal deem the rageOf this tormentor, nor his proud assault,While I am here to vindicate thy toil, 580Above the generous question of thy arm.Brave by thy fears and in thy weakness strong,This hour he triumphs: but confront his might,And dare him to the combat, then with easeDisarm'd and quell'd, his fierceness he resignsTo bondage and to scorn: while thus inuredBy watchful danger, by unceasing toil,The immortal mind, superior to his fate,Amid the outrage of external things,Firm as the solid base of this great world, 590Rests on his own foundations. Blow, ye winds!Ye waves! ye thunders! roll your tempest on;Shake, ye old pillars of the marble sky!Till all its orbs and all its worlds of fireBe loosen'd from their seats; yet still serene,The unconquer'd mind looks down upon the wreck;And ever stronger as the storms advance,Firm through the closing ruin holds his way,Where Nature calls him to the destined goal.'
So spake the goddess; while through all her frame 600Celestial raptures flow'd, in every word,In every motion kindling warmth divineTo seize who listen'd. Vehement and swiftAs lightning fires the aromatic shadeIn Aethiopian fields, the stripling feltHer inspiration catch his fervid soul,And starting from his languor thus exclaim'd:—
'Then let the trial come! and witness thou,If terror be upon me; if I shrinkTo meet the storm, or falter in my strength 610When hardest it besets me. Do not thinkThat I am fearful and infirm of soul,As late thy eyes beheld: for thou hast changedMy nature; thy commanding voice has wakedMy languid powers to bear me boldly on,Where'er the will divine my path ordainsThrough toil or peril: only do not thouForsake me; Oh, be thou for ever near,That I may listen to thy sacred voice,And guide by thy decrees my constant feet. 620But say, for ever are my eyes bereft?Say, shall the fair Euphrosyné not onceAppear again to charm me? Thou, in heaven!O thou eternal arbiter of things!Be thy great bidding done: for who am I,To question thy appointment? Let the frownsOf this avenger every morn o'ercastThe cheerful dawn, and every evening dampWith double night my dwelling; I will learnTo hail them both, and unrepining bear 630His hateful presence: but permit my tongueOne glad request, and if my deeds may findThy awful eye propitious, oh! restoreThe rosy-featured maid; again to cheerThis lonely seat, and bless me with her smiles.'
He spoke; when instant through the sable gloomsWith which that furious presence had involvedThe ambient air, a flood of radiance cameSwift as the lightning flash; the melting cloudsFlew diverse, and amid the blue serene 640Euphrosyné appear'd. With sprightly stepThe nymph alighted on the irriguous lawn,And to her wondering audience thus began:—
'Lo! I am here to answer to your vows,And be the meeting fortunate! I comeWith joyful tidings; we shall part no more—Hark! how the gentle echo from her cellTalks through the cliffs, and murmuring o'er the streamRepeats the accents; we shall part no more.—O my delightful friends! well pleased on high 650The Father has beheld you, while the mightOf that stern foe with bitter trial provedYour equal doings: then for ever spakeThe high decree, that thou, celestial maid!Howe'er that grisly phantom on thy stepsMay sometimes dare intrude, yet never moreShalt thou, descending to the abode of man,Alone endure the rancour of his arm,Or leave thy loved Euphrosyné behind.'