His infant Muse, though artless, was not mute : For this of time and culture is the fruit; And Edwin gain'd at last this fruit so rare : As in some future verse I purpose to declare. 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, Rectique cultus pectora roborant. 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, Of candour, love, or sympathy divine, 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. And toss their giant arms amid the skies, VI. And now the downy cheek and deepen'd voice And vales more wild, and mountains more sublime. 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 |