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The radiant range of shield and lance
We bid the spectre-shapes avaunt, Down Damascus' hills advance :
Ashtaroth, and Termagaunt !t From Sion's turrets as afar
With many a demon, pale of hue, Ye ken the march of Europe's war!
Doom'd to drink the bitter dew, Saladin, thou paynim king,
That drops from Macon's sooty tree, From Albion's isle revenge we bring !
'Mid the dread grove of ebony. On Acon's spiry citadel,
Nor magic charms, nor fiends of Hell, Though to the gule thy banners swell,
The Christian's holy courage quell. Pictur'd with the silver Moon ;
Salem, in ancient majesty England shall end thy glory soon!
Arise, and lift thee to the sky! In vain, to break our firm array, ,
Soon on thy battlements divine Thy brazen drums hoarse discord bray:
Shall wave the badge of Constantine. Those sounds our rising fury fan :
Ye barons, to the Sun unfold English Richard in the van,
Our cross with crimson wove and gold !"
Blondel led the tuneful band,
PROGRESS OF DISCONTENT.
When now mature in classic knowledge,
The joyful youth is sent to College,
His father comes, a vicar plain, Then with ardor fresh endu'd,
At Oxford bred-in Anna's reign, Thus the solemn song renew'd.
And thus, in form of humble suitor, “ Lo, the toilsome voyage past, Heaven's favor'd hills appear at last!
Bowing accosts a reverend tutor : Object of our holy vow,
“Sir, I'm a Glo'stershire divine, We tread the Tyrian valleys now.
And this my eldest son of nine; From Carmel's almond-shaded steep
My wife's ambition and my own We feel the cheering fragrance creep:
Was that this child should wear a gown: O'er Engaddi's shrubs of balm
I'll warrant that his good behavior Waves the date-empurpled palm :
Will justify your future favor; See Lebanon's aspiring head
And, for his parts, to tell the truth, Wide his immortal umbrage spread!
My son's a very forward youth ; Hail, Calvary, thou mountain hoar,
Has Horace all by heart-you'd wonderWet with our Redeemer's gore !
And mouths out Homer's Greek like thunder Ye trampled tombs, ye fanes forlorn,
If you'd examine—and admit him, Ye stones, by tears of pilgrims worn;
A scholarship would nicely fit him; Your ravish'd honors to restore,
That he succeeds 'tis ten to one; Fearless we climb this hostile shore!
Your vote and interest, sir !"-'Tis done. And thou, the sepulchre of God;
Our pupil's hopes, though twice defeated, By mocking Pagans rudely trod,
Are with a scholarship completed : Bereft of every awful rite,
A scholarship but half maintains, And quench'd thy lamps that beam'd so bright;
And college-rules are heavy chains : For thee, from Britain's distant coast,
In garret dark he smokes and puns, Lo, Richard leads his faithful host!
A prey to discipline and duns ; Aloft in his heroic hand,
And now, intent on new designs, Blazing like the beacon's brand,
Sighs for a fellowship-and fines. O'er the far-affrighied fields,
When nine full tedious winters past, Resistless Kaliburo* he wields.
That utmost wish is crown'd at last : Proud Saracen, pollute no more
But the rich prize no sooner got, The shrines by martyrs built of yore!
Again he quarrels with his lot: From each wild mountain's trackless crown
These fellowships are pretty things,
We live indeed like petty kings : In vain thy gloomy castles frown:
But who can bear to waste his whole age
Amid the dullness of a college,
Debarr'd the common joys of life,
And that prime bliss-a loving wife! When eve has hush'd the buzzing camp,
0! what's a table richly spread, Amid the moonlight vapors damp,
Without a woman at its head ?
† Ashtaroth is mentioned by Milton as a general name
of the Syrian deities: Par. Lost, i. 42. And Termagaunt * Kaliburn is the sword of king Arthur; which, as the is the name given in the old romance to the god of the monkish historians say, caine into the possession of Rich. Saracens. See Percy's Relics, vol. i. p. 74. ard I., and was given by that monarch, in the Crusades, 1 The scholars of Trinity are superannuated, if they to Tancred king of Sicily, as a royal present of inestima. do not succeed to fellowships in nine years after their ble value, about the year 1190.
election to scholarships.
“Why did I sell my college life,"
Oh! trilling head, and fickle heart!
INSCRIPTION IN A HERMITAGE,
AT ANSLEY HALL, IN WARWICKSHIRE.
Would some snug benefice but fall,
Too fond of freedom and of ease
Continuing this fantastic farce on,
Thus fixt, content he taps his barrel,
But ah! too soon his thoughtless breast
Beneath this stony roof reclin'd,
At eve, within yon studious nook,
ODE SENT TO A FRIEND,
Who but would wish his holy lot
ON HIS LEAVING A FAVORITE VILLAGE IN
WRITTEN IN WHICHWOOD FOREST.
The hinds how blest, who ne'er beguil'd To quit their ham 's hawthorn wild; Nor haunt the crowd, nor tempt the main, For splendid care, and guilty gain!
When morning's twilight-tinctur'd beam Strikes their low thatch with slanting gleam, They rove abroad in ether blue, To dip the scythe in fragrant dew; The sheaf to bind, the beech to fell, That nodding shades a craggy dell.
'Midst gloomy glades, in warbles clear, Wild nature's sweetest notes they hear: On green untrodden banks they view The hyacinth's neglected hue : In their lone haunts, and woodland rounds, They spy the squirrel's airy bounds, And startle from her ashen spray, Across the glen, the screaming jay: Each native charm their steps explore Of Solitude's sequester'd store.
For them the Moon with cloudless ray Mounts, to illume their homeward way: Their weary spirits to relieve, The meadow's incense breathe at eve. No riot mars the simple fare, That o'er a glimmering hearth they share: But when the curfew's measur'd roar Duly, the darkening valleys o'er, Has echoed from the distant town, They wish no beds of cygnet-down, No trophied canopies, to close Their drooping eyes in quick repose.
Their little sons, who spread the bloom Of health around the clay-built room, Or through the primros'd coppice stray, Or gambol in the new-mown hay; Or quaintly braid the cowslip twine, Or drive afield the tardy kine; Or hasten from the sultry hill To loiter at the shady rill; Or climb the tall pine's gloomy crest, To rob the raven's ancient nest.
Their humble porch with honied flow'rs The curling woodbine's shade embow'rs : From the small garden's thymy mound Their bees in busy swarms resound : Nor fell Disease, before his time, Hastes to consume life's golden prime : But when their temples long have wore The silver crown of tresses hoar; As studious still calm peace to keep, Beneath a flowery turf they sleep.
An mourn, thou lov'd retreat! No more
Who now shall indolently stray
For lo! the Bard who rapture found
Behold, a dread repose resumes,
• Grey clothing, from the Latin verb amicio, to clothe.
Around the glow-worm's glimmering bank, Beneath yon ruin'd abbey's moss-grown piles No Fairies run in fiery rank;
Oft let me sit, at twilight hour of eve, Nor brush, half-seen, in airy tread,
Where through some western window the pale Moon The violet's unprinted head.
Pours her long-level'd rule of streaming light; But Fancy, from the thickets brown,
While sullen sacred silence reigns around, The glades that wear a conscious frown, Save the lone screech-owl's note, who builds his bow's The forest oaks, that, pale and lone,
Amid the mould'ring caverns dark and damp, Nod to the blast with hoarser tone,
Or the calm breeze, that rustles in the leaves Rough glens, and sullen water-falls,
Of flaunting ivy, that with mantle green
Invests some wasted tow'r. Or let me tread
Its neighb'ring walk of pines, where mus'd of old (As old Arabian fablers tell,)
'The cloister'd brothers: through the gloomy void Amid the solitary wild,
That far extends beneath their ample arch Luxuriant gardens gaily smil'd:
Is on I pace, religious horror wraps From sapphire rocks the fountains stream'd, My soul in dread repose.
But when the world With golden fruit the branches beam'd; is clad in Midnight's raven-color'd robe, Fair forms, in every wondrous wood,
'Mid hollow charnel let me watch the flame Or lightly tripp'd, or solemn stood ;
of taper dim, shedding a livid glare And oft, retreating from the view,
O'er the wan heaps; while airy voices talk Betray'd, at distance, beauties new:
Along the glimm’ring walls; or ghostly shape, While gleaming o'er the crisped bowers At distance seen, invites with beck'ning hand Rich spires arose, and sparkling towers. My lonesome steps, through the far-winding vaults If bound on service new to go,
Nor undelightful is the solemn noon The master of the magic show
Of night, when haply wakeful from my couch His transitory charm withdrew,
I start: lo! all is motionless around !
Roars not the rushing wind; the sons of men
O then how fearful is it to reflect,
That through the still globe's awful solitude, And a bare heath's unfruitful plain
No being wakes but me! till stealing sleep
My drooping temples bathes in opiate dews.
To the fell house of Busyrane, he led
Th' unshaken Britomart; or Milton knew,
When in abstracted thought he first conceiv'd
All Heav'n in tumult, and the seraphim
Come tow'ring, arm'd in adamant and gold.
Let others love soft Summer's evening smiles, MOTHER of musings, Contemplation sage,
As list’ning to the distant water-fall,
Then, when the sullen shades of ev’ning close, Thou hearst with howling winds the beating rain Where through the room a blindly glimm'ring g'eam And drifting hail descend; or if the skies The dying embers scatter, far remote (roof Unclouded shine, and through the blue serene From Mirth's mad shouts, that through th'illumin'd Pale Cynthia rolls her silver-axled car,
Resound with festive echo, let me sit, Whence gazing stedfast on the spangled vault Blest with the lowly cricket's drowsy dirge. Raptur'd thou sitt'st, while murmurs indistinct Then let my thought contemplative explore Of distant billows soothe thy pensive ear
This fleeting state of things, the vain delights, With hoarse and hollow sounds ; secure, self-blest, The fruitless toils, that still our search elude, There oft thou listen'st to the wild uproar
As through the wilderness of life we rove. of fleets encount'ring, that in whispers low This sober hour of silence will unmask Ascend the rocky summit, where thou dwell'st False Folly's smile, that like the dazzling spells Remote from man conversing with the spheres! Of wily Comus cheat the unweeting eye O lead me, qucen sublime, to solemn gloons With blear illusion, and persuade to drink Congenial with my soul ; to cheerless shadles, That charmed cup, which Reason's mintage fair To ruin'd seats, to twilight cells and bow'rs, Unmoulds, and stamps the monster on the man. Where thoughtful Melancholy loves to muse, Eager we taste, but in the luscious draught Her fav’rite midnight haunts. The laughing scenes Forget the poisonous dregs that lurk beneath or purple Spring, where all the wanton train Few know that elegance of soul refin'd, Of Smiles and Graces seem to lead the dance Whose soft sensation feels a quicker joy In sportive round, while from their hand they show'r From Melancholy's scenes, than the dull pride Ambrosial blooms and flow'rs, no longer charm; or tasteless splendor and magnificence Tempé, no more I court thy balmy breeze, Can e'er afford. Thus Eloise, whose mind Adieu, green vales! ye broider'd meads, adieu! Had languish'd to the pangs of melting love
More genuine transports found, as on some tomb Ye youths of Albion's beauty-blooming isle,
To Melody's assuasive voice ; to bend
Aud pour your sorrows to the pitying Moon,
When azure noontide cheers the dædal globe, of interrupted ; in embow'ring woods And the blest regent of the golden day
By darksome brook to muse, and there forget Rejoices in his bright meridian tower,
The solemn dullness of the tedious world, How oft my wishes ask the night's re!urn, While Fancy grasps the visionary fair: That best befriends the melancholy mind!
And now no more th'abstracted ear attends Hail, sacred Night! thou too shalt share my song! The water's murm'ring lapse, th' entranced eye Sister of ebon-sceptred Hecale, hail !
Pierces no longer through th' extended rows Whether in congregated clouds thou wrapp'st of thick-rang'd trees; till haply from the depth Thy viewless chariot, or with silver crown The woodman's stroke, or distant tinkling team, Thy beaming head encirclest, ever hail!
Or heifers rustling through the brake, alarms What though beneath thy gloom the sorceress-strain, Th'illuded sense, and mars the golden dream. Far in obscured haunt of Lapland moors,
These are delights that absence drear has made With rhymes uncouth the bloody caldron bless; Familiar to my soul, e'er since the form Though Murder wan beneath thy shrouding shade of young Sapphira, beauteous as the Spring, Summons her slow-ey'd vot'ries to devise
When from her vi'let-woven couch awak'd Of secret slaughter, while by one blue lamp By frolic Zephyr's hand, her tender cheek In hideous conference sits the list'ning band, Graceful she lists, and blushing from her bow's And start at each low wind, or wakeful sound: Issues to clothe in gladsome-glistering green What though thy stay the pilgrim curseth oft, The genial globe, first met my dazzled sight: As all benighted in Arabian wastes
These are delights unknown to minds profane, He hears the wilderness around him howl
And which alone the pensive soul can taste. With roaming monsters, while on his hoar head The la perd choir, at the late hour of pray'r, The black-descending tempest ceaseless beats ; Oft let me tread. while to th' according voice Yet more delightful to my pensive mind
The many-sounding organ peals on high, Is thy return, than blooming Morn's approach, The clear slow-ditried chant, or varied hymn. Ev'n than, in youthful pride of opening May, Till all my soul is bathed in ecstasies, When from the portals of the saffron east
And lapp'd in paradise. Or let me sit
Nor when the lamps expiring yield to night,
The solemn mansion, but attentive mark
With the soft thrillings of the tragic Muse,
Queen of the stately step, and flowing pall. While to the shed the dripping poultry crowd, Now let Monimia mourn with streaming eyes A mournful train : secure the village-hind
Her joys incestuous, and polluted love;
Or Jaffier kneel for one forgiving look
By soft degrees the manly torrent steals
From my swoln eyes; and at a brother's woe
What are the splendors of the gaudy court, In magic Spenser's wildly-warbled song
Its tinsel trappings, and its pageant pomps ?
To me far happier seems the banish'd lord,
Who pines all lonesome, in the chambers hoar Upon the bosom bright of silver Thames
Of some high castle shut, whose windows diin Launches in all the lustre of brocade,
In distant ken discover trackless plains, Amid the splendors of the laughing Sun.
Where Winter ever whirls his icy car! The gay description palls upon the sense, While still repeated objects of his view, And coldly strikes the mind with feeble bliss. The gloomy battlements, and ivied spires,