Enough of great and fair to thee is giv'n,
To charm the eye, and lift the thought to Heav'n!
Thy colder, but thy not unkinder air,
Wakes and rewards fair culture's fruitful care :
Braces the nobler growth of public mind,
And fosters Freedom of perennial kind!
Whose goddess-form, in Tusculum's sweet shade,
Great Tully, with a prophet glance,* survey'd;
Ere the fair Triple Power had local birth,
And walk'd with man, on England's favour'd earth.
Not yet her martyrs from their clouds complain,
Nor mourn, with dying Brutus, Virtue vain.
Not vainly Hampden, Russell, Sidney bled-
Sweet is their rest on yon ethereal bed!
Britons are Britons still; and dare not yield
The charter which her patriot-blood has seal'd!
Britons are Britons still; revere the throne;
Guard all its rights-yet vindicate their own!
What though an honest, yet misguided few,
Would Anarchy, in Freedom's garb, pursue-
What though Corruption's foul and venal charms,
Allure infected numbers to her arms-
The general heart is sound: the general cry
Rings over ocean, "Death, or Liberty!''
Upon his steel-girt throne, with secret fear,
Gaul's bloody tyrant starts that shout to hear:
And Europe's crouching realms with envy see,
One Monarch reigning, and One People free!
Statuo esse optimè constitutam rempublicam, quæ ex tribus generibus illis, regali, optimo, et populari confusa modicè, &c.
Cicero, frag. de Republicâ, lib. 2.
[From Mr. ELTON'S TALES OF ROMANCE.]
HE moon had sunk in clouds; a storm was nigh,
And eddy leaves came scattering on the blast;
The merchant round him turn'd an anxious eye,
As yet scarce balf the forest length was past;
While mingling with the gloom a deeper dread,
The passing thunder roll'd in murmurs o'er his head.
The steed shook wild his ruffled mane; around
The oak-trees old rock'd roaring in the gale;
And pines their branches stoopd with crashing sound;
Drear clos'd the darkness on the lightning pale;
When through the forest breaks a light from high
Shone distant, as it seem'd, a watch-tower in the sky.
With livelier cheer the traveller wound the glade,
Till climbing slow the dark hill's hanging steep,
Th' illuminated turrets he survey'd,
Whose light had glimmer'd thro' those forests deep;
Beneath a stately castle's walls he stood,
That, flank'd with lofty towers, o'ertopp'd th' inferior wood.
Beside the gate was bung a brazen horn;
The pediment was gravd with golden scroll; "Here food and shelter wait the wretch forlorn, "Who owns the treasure of a grateful soul." The merchant to his lips that horn applied, The hollow mountain-glens re-echoed far and wide.
Straight quivering streaks Hlume the granite walls,
From many a gliding torch reflected bright;
Shrill ring the gates; expand the tapestried halls,
And blooming pages guide his steps aright;
With busy hands disrobe the way-worn guest,
And lave in tepid streams, and clothe in downy vest.
Thence o'er a smooth mosaic floor he treads,
Of greenest marble is the vast saloon;
A crystal lamp its chequering lustre sheds,
As o'er some valley shines the shadowy moon;
The figur'd arras waves, and on his sight
Sudden a presence-room bursts in a blaze of light,
Full opposite the duchess thron'd was seen;
Soft was her pensive smile, and chaste her modest mien.
But oh! how tempting fair; her hazel eye
Swam dark in beaming languishment of hue;
Her smooth and jetty brows were arch'd on high,
Her shading lashes lengthen'd on the view;
The crimson of her cheek rose mantling warm,
A lucid robe scarce veil'd her lightly rounded form.
None may that bosom's orb'd luxuriance tell,
As marble firm, and dazzling as the snow;
The gazer's heart, while soft it rose and fell,
Beat with a like pulsation to and fro;
And oh the moisture of the scarlet lip,
That clos'd these pearly teeth, it had been heaven to sip.
Apart she sat, distinguish'd from the rest,
A violet mantle from her shoulders flow'd;
A zone of diamonds grasp'd her throbbing breast,
And on her tapering fingers rubies glow'd;
Gems quiver'd in her ears; and round her head
Gather'd in braiding gold the jetty tresses spread.
Here gaz'd Basilius; nor the lady's gaze
Disdain'd to melt and mingle with his own;
At once his blood was kindled in a blaze,
His pulses throbb'd with tumults yet unknown;
Flush'd was his cheek, and humid were his eyes,
And every nerve was thrill'd with trembling ecstacies.
But still, whene'er he turn'd his eyes aside,
The Duke's stern glance would seem to read his soul; Then through his heart would icy terrors glide,
Till once again her gaze electric stole
On his attracted gaze, and once again
The guilty flames were shot through every shivering vein.
Now to the trumpet's silver sound behold
The banquet serv'd; the golden beakers shine;
The viands rich are pil'd in massive gold,
Reddens in golden cups the sparkling wine;
The merchant swims in bliss; the duke demands
A health, and courteous gives the goblet to his hands.
Then smiling bends the guest his wishful eyes
To that fair Duchess, when the goblet falls
From his slack grasp; what sudden horrors rise!
What ghastly spectacle his sight appalls!
In her white hand she held a human skull,
A page stood by with wine, and fill'd it to the full.
She bows, and lifts it to her smiling lips,
But her smooth brow is ruffled by a frown;
Tears drop into the draught; and, while she sips,
O'er her high-heaving breast run trickling down.
The Merchant on Onulphus turn'd his look;
Again that eagle eye his breast with lightning strook.
Ill far'd the traveller through that horrid feast,
Tho' perfumes breath'd, and music warbled round:
Full glad was he when all the banquet ceas'd,
Fain would he fly from that enchanted ground;
But now those blooming boys the torches bear,
And his reluctant steps ascend the jasper stair.
The plumes of ostrich nodded o'er the bed,
That stood by silver eagles propp'd on high;
The velvet curtains glow'd with deepest red;
And wav'd the walls with pictur'd tapestry;
Large as the life appear'd those shadows bright,
Their stately forms mov'd slow to every breeze of night.
There from the book of Troy was wrought the tale,
Here Helen smil'd at Menelaus' side:
There look'd she back, while far the bellying sail
In flight convey'd her o'er the rolling tide:
Here her white arms enfold th' adulterous boy,
And there she wailing sees the gathering flames of Troy.
There too the mighty Agamemnon bled
Within the marble bath, by ruffian sword;
Here was the feast by Clytemnestra spread,
The gay adulterer grac'd the regal board:
There his good blade the stern Orestes drew,
And o'er a mother's corse his veiling mantle threw.
His arms in musing thought the Merchant folds,
And, touch'd with sadness, views the storied walls: When sudden he a gilded niche beholds,
As with slant gleam the lamp reflected falls; Within the niche two glooming tapers burn, Whose flickering light shows dim an alabaster urn.
Who may the stranger's shuddering anguish paint,
When in that vase he look'd, and saw enclos'd
A human heart!-with rising horror's faint
He sought his couch; and lay, but not repos'd;
When clang'd the doors; and lo! the Duke-who led
That lovely dame, her locks dishevell'd from her head.
That heart, with myrrh and cassia balin'd, he took,
And to her lips with courteous mockery rais'd;
That heart she kiss'd, while he with searching look
On her flush'd cheek unalterably gaz'd:
Then, while her sobbing breast rose heaving fast,
The vase was clos'd, and they from forth the chamber pass'd.
Up sprang the trav'ller when the morning broke,
And left the chamber with a beating breast;
The Duke encountering smil'd, and gracious spoke,
And ask'd if sweet his fare, if soft his rest;
Basilius bow'd the knee, but frankly said,
How that his breast was scar'd, and terrified his bed.
Stern smil'd his host, and led him where a room
Was rich with painting, gold, and ebony:
Without the casements roses wreath'd their bloom,
And woodbines droop'd in cluster'd canopy:
Its blossom'd boughs the myrtle green entwin'd,
And orange-trees with sweets impregnated the wind.
Rare needle-work the colour'd hangings wove,
The silken scene did loyal loves display:
Knights in their helmets wore the gage of love,
Or at the feet of damsels courteous lay:
But all was stilly gloom; what seem'd a bed
Rose underneath an arch, with sable pall o'erspread.
Unseen the harp is touch'd; the whilst they taste
The luscious fruit, and drink metheglin sweet,
Slow to the Merchant's thought the moment's waste,
Till rose the Duke in silence from his seat;
That sable pall he rais'd, and pointing stood;
The azure couch blush'd red-it was the stain of blood!
Then pray'd the trembling merchant to depart,
The gorgeous misery sicken'd on his brain;
The mystic drinking skull; th' embalmed heart,
The purple horror of the secret stain!
"Lo! here," Onulphus cried, " my bridal bower!
And here my consort clasp'd her guilty paramour.
"Like thee, my guest, he caught the roving glance
"Of Rosimund, and lur'd her to her shame;
"I saw; I found them in their sinful trance,
"And quench'd in blood the barb'rous ingrate's flame; "It is the will of heaven that I should be
"The still-avenging scourge of her inconstancy.
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