THE MINSTREL; BOOK SECOND. Doctrina sed vim promovet insitam, Rectique cultus pectora roborant. HORAT. THE MINSTREL; OR, THE PROGRESS OF GENIUS. BOOK SECOND, I. Or chance or change, O let not man complain, Else shall he never never cease to wail: For, from the imperial dome, to where the swain Rears the lone cottage in the silent dale, All feel the assault of fortune's fickle gale; Art, empire, earth itself, to change are doomed; Earthquakes have raised to heaven the humble vale; And gulfs the mountain's mighty mass entombed; And where the Atlantic rolls wide continents have bloomed. II. But sure to foreign climes we need not range, To learn the dire effects of time and change, But spare, O Time, whate'er of mental grace, III. So I, obsequious to Truth's dread command, Each vale romantic, tuneful every tongue, Sweet, wild, and artless all, as Edwin's infant song. IV. • Perish the lore that deadens young desire,' Is the soft tenor of my song no more. Edwin, though loved of heaven, must not aspire To bliss, which mortals never knew before. On trembling wings let youthful fancy soar, Nor always haunt the sunny realms of joy, But now and then the shades of life explore; Though many a sound and sight of woe annoy, And many a qualm of care his rising hopes destroy. V. Vigour from toil, from trouble patience grows. Mark yonder oaks! Superior to the power And toss their giant arms amid the skies, While each assailing blast increase of strength supplies. |