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With many a demon, pale of hue,
Salem, in ancient majesty
TIE GRAVE OF KING ARTHUR.
Saladin, thou paynim king,
Blondel led the tuneful band,
Soon we kiss'd the sacred earth
“ Lo, the toilsome voyage past,
STATELY the feast, and high the cheer:
Illumining the vaulted roof :
« O’er Cornwall's cliffs the tempest roar'd,
For when he fell, an elfin queen,
They ceased : when on the tuneful stage
“ Listen, Henry, to my rede! Not from fairy realms I lead Bright-robed Tradition, to relate In forged colours Arthur's fate ; Though much of old romantic lore On the high theme I keep in store : But boastful Fiction should be dumb, Where Truth the strain might best become. If thine ear may still be won With songs of Uther's glorious son, Henry, I a tale unfold, Never yet in rhyme enrollid, Nor sung nor harp'd in hall or bower ; Which in my youth's full early flower, A minstrel, sprung of Cornish line, Who spoke of kings from old Locrine, Taught me to chant, one vernal dawn, Deep in a cliff-encircled lawn, What time the glistening vapours fled From cloud-envelop'd Clyder's head; And on its sides the torrents gray Shone to the morning's orient ray.
“ When Arthur bow'd his haughty crest,
Amid the pealing symphony
(* Glastonbury Abbey, said to be founded by Joseph of Arimathea, in a spot anciently called the island, or valley of Avalonia.]
(t The bay of Dublin. Harald, or Harsager, the Fair. haired King of Norway, is said to have conquered Ireland, and to have founded Dublin.]
WRITTEN AFTER SERING WILTON HOUSE.
Flash the keen lightnings from his eyes ;
with arching sculpture crown'd,
From Pembroke's princely dome, where mimie in
[Born, 1721. Died, 1791.)
Thomas BLACKLOCK was born at Annan, in gentlemen as boarders in his house, whom he Dumfries-shire, where his father was a brick- occasionally assisted in their studies. layer. Before he was six months old, he was He published an interesting article on Blindtotally deprived of sight by the small-pox. From ness in the Encyclopædia Britannica, and a work an early age he discovered a fondness for listen entitled “ Paraclesis, or Consolations of Religion," ing to books, especially to those in poetry ; and in two dissertations, the one original, the other by the kindness of his friends and relations, he
translated from a work which has been sometimes acquired a slight acquaintance with the Latin ascribed to Cicero, but which is more generally tongue, and with some of the popular English
believed to have been written by Vigonius of classics. He began also, when very young, to
Padua. He died of a nervous fever, at the age compose verses; and some of these having been
of seventy. shown to Dr. Stevenson, an eminent physician of Blacklock was a gentle and social being, los the Scottish capital, the doctor benevolently took
prone to melancholy ; probably more from conhim to Edinburgh, where Blacklock improved his
stitution than froin the circumstance of his knowledge of Latin, and completed his studies at blindness, which he so often and so deeply de the university. The publication of his poems plores. From this despondent disposition, he excited a general interest in his favour, and sought refuge in conversation and music. Hie Professor Spence, of Oxford, having prefixed to was a tolerable performer on the flute, and them an account of his life and character, a used to carry a flageolet in his pocket, on second edition of them was liberally encouraged which he was not displeased to be solieited for a in London. In 1759, he was licensed as a preacher of the Scottish church. He soon after His verses are extraordinary for a man blind wards married a Miss Johnston, a very worthy, from his infancy; but Mr. Henry Mackenzie, in but homely woman ; whose beauty, however, he his elegant biographical account of him, has es. was accustomed to extol with an ecstacy that tainly over-rated his genius : and when Mr. made his friends regard his blindness as, in one Spence, of Oxford, submitted Blacklock's de instance, no misfortune. By the patronage of scriptive powers as a problem for metaphysicias the Earl of Selkirk, he was presented to the
to resolve, he attributed to his writings a degree living of Kirkcudbright; but in consequence of
of descriptive strength which they do not possess the violent objections that were made by the
Denina* carried exaggeration to the utmas 1 parishioners to having a blind man for their
when he declared that Blacklock would seem a clergyman, he resigned the living, and accepted
fable to posterity, as he had been a prodigy to of a small annuity in its stead. With this slender his contemporaries. It is no doubt curious provision, he returned to Edinburgh, and sub that his memory should have retained so many sisted, for the rest of his life, by taking young
* In his Discorso della Litteratura.
forms of expression for things which he had never vision which, though not easy to be accounted seen; but those who have conversed with intel- for, will be found sufficiently common to make ligent persons who have been blind from their the rhymes of Blacklock appear far short of marinfancy, must have often remarked in them a vellous. Blacklock, on more than one occasion, familiarity of language respecting the objects of betrays something like marks of blindness.
THE AUTHOR'S PICTURE.
Dishonest flames my bosom never fire ;
These careless lines, if any virgin hears,
ODE TO AURORA, ON MELISSA'S BIRTH-DAY.
While in my matchless graces wrapt I stand, And touch each feature with a trembling hand ; Deign, lovely self ! with art and nature's pride, To mix the colours, and the pencil guide.
Self is the grand pursuit of half mankind ; How vast a crowd by self, like me, are blind ! By self the fop in magic colours shown, Though scorn’d by every eye, delights his own : When age and wrinkles seize the conqu’ring maid, Self, not the glass, reflects the flattering shade. Then, wonder-working self! begin the lay ; Thy charms to others as to me display,
Straight is my person, but of little size; Lean are my cheeks, and hollow are my eyes : My youthful down is, like my talents, rare ; Politely distant stands each single hair. My voice too rough to charm a lady's ear ; So smooth a child may listen without fear ; Not form'd in cadence soft and warbling lays, To soothe the fair through pleasure's wanton ways. My form so fine, so regular, so new, My port so manly, and so fresh my hue ; Oft, as I meet the crowd, they laughing say, “ See, see Memento Mori cross the way.” The ravish'a Proserpine at last, we know, Grew fondly jealous of her sable beau ; But, thanks to nature ! none from me need fly; One heart the devil could wound-s0 cannot I.
Yet, though my person fearless may be seen, There is some danger in my graceful mien : For, as some vessel toss'd by wind and tide, Bounds o'er the waves and rocks from side to In just vibration thus I always move : [side ; This who can view and not be forced to love!
Hail ! charming self ! by whose propitious aid My form in all its glory stands display'd : Be present still ; with inspiration kind, Let the same faithful colours paint the mind.
Like all mankind, with vanity I'm bless'd, Conscious of wit I never yet possess'd. To strong desires my heart an easy prey, Oft feels their force, but never owns their sway. This hour, perhaps, as death I hate my foe ; The next, I wonder why I should do so. Though poor, the rich I view with careless eye ; Scorn a vain oath, and hate a serious lie. I ne'er for satire torture common sense ; Nor show my wit at God's nor man's expense. Harmless I live, unknowing and unknown ; Wish well to all, and yet do good to none. Unmerited contempt I hate to bear ; Yet on my faults, like others, am severe.
Of time and nature eldest born, Emerge, thou rosy-finger'd morn, Emerge, in purest dress array'd, And chase from Heaven night's envious shade That I once more may, pleased, survey, And hail Melissa's natal day. Of time and nature eldest born, Emerge, thou rosy-finger'd morn ; In order at the eastern gate The Hours to draw thy chariot wait ; Whilst zephyr, on his balmy wings, Mild nature's fragrant tribute brings, With odours sweet to strew thy way, And grace the bland revolving day. But as thou lead'st the radiant sphere, That gilds its birth, and marks the year, And as his stronger glories rise, Diffused around th' expanded skies, Till clothed with beams serenely bright, All Heaven's vast concave flames with light; So, when, through life's protracted day, Melissa still pursues her way, Her virtues with thy splendour vie, Increasing to the mental eye : Though less conspicuous, not less dear, Long may they Bion's prospect cheer ; So shall his heart no more repine, Bless’d with her rays, though robb’d of thine. [* Blacklock's poetry sleeps secure in undisturbed mediocrity, and Blacklock himself is best remembered from Johnson's reverential look and the influence a letter of his had upon the fate and fortunes of Burns.]
WILLIAM HAYWARD ROBERTS.
(Born, 1745. Died, 1791. ]
He was educated at Eton, and from thence was hamshire. In 1771 he published, in three parts, elected to King's college, Cambridge, where he “ A Poetical Essay on the Attributes and Provi. took the degree of master of arts, and of doctor dence of the Deity.” Two years afterwards, in divinity. From being an under master at “ A Poetical Epistle to Christopher Anstey, on Eton he finally rose to be provost of the college, the English Poets, chiefly those who had written in the year 1781. He was also chaplain to the in blank verse ;” and in 1774, his poem of i king, and rector of Farnham Royal, in Bucking “ Judah Restored," a work of no common merit.
FROM “ JUDAH RESTORED."
The subject proposed-State of the Jews in captivity, Of captive Judah for their native clime,
Character of Belsbazzar-Feast of Baal-Daniel visited Again to sing the strains of Jesse's son, by the Angel Gabriel,
Again to raise a temple to their God.
But, oh ! what hope, what prospect of return, The fall of proud Belshazzar, the return
While fierce Belshazzar reigns? He, undismay'd Of Benjamin, and Judah, captive tribes,
Though hostile banners stream near Babel's towers, I sing. Spirit of God, who to the eyes
Round his gall’d prisoners binds the griping chain, Of holy seers in vision didst reveal
And scoffs at Judah's God. Even now a shout Events far distant; thou who once didst touch Is heard through every street, and with loud voice Their lips with heavenly fire, and tune their harps | Arioch, an herald tall, proclaims a feast To strains sublimer than the Tuscan stream To Bel, Chaldæan idol ; and commands Caught from his Latian bards, or echoed round That when the morrow dawns, soon as is bean The wide Ægean from Ionia's shore,
The sound of cornet, dulcimer, and harp, Inspire my soul ; bless'd spirit, aid my song. Sackbut, and psaltery, each knee be bent
The sun full seventy times had pass'd the realm Before the mighty dragon. Silent stand Of burning Scorpius, and was hastening down With eyes dejected Solyma's sad sons. The steep convex of heaven, since Babylon Shall they comply? but will Jehovah then Received her mourning prisoners. Savage taunts, E’er lead them back to Canaan, pleasant land ! And the rude insult of their barbarous lords, Shall they refuse ? but who, oh! who shall check Embitter all their woe. Meanwhile the Law, Belshazzar's waken'd wrath! who shall endure Proclaim'd on Horeb's top, neglected lies ; The burning cauldron, or what lingering death Nor kid, nor evening lamb, nor heifer bleeds, The tyrant's cruel vengeance may devise ? Nor incense smokes, nor holy Levite claims Thus they irresolute wait the fatal hour. Choice fruits, and rich oblations. On the trees, Now Night invests the pole : wrapt is the wor!! That o'er the waters bend, their untuned harps, In awful silence ; not a voice is heard, Harps which their fathers struck to festal hymns, Nor din of arms, nor sound of distant foot, Hang useless. 'Twas the hill, 'twas Sion's hill, Through the still gloom. Euphrates lulls his wares, Which yet Jehovah loved. There once he dwelt; / Which sparkle to the moon's reflected beam ; There stood his temple ; there from side to side Nor does one sage from Babylon's high tovers The cherub stretch'd his wings, and from the cloud | Descry the planets, or the fix'd, and mark Beam'd bright celestial radiance. Thence, though Their distance or their number. Sunk to rast, In early childhood to a stranger's land, [driven With all her horrors of the morrow's doom, Or born sad heirs of slavery, still they cast Lies Sion's captive daughter : sleep, soft sleep An anxious look from Perath’s willowy vale, His dusky mantle draws o'er every eye. Toward Jordan, sacred stream ; and when the sun But not on Daniel's unpillow'd head Sunk in the west, with eager eye pursued
One opiate dew.drop falls. Much he rerolves His parting beams ; and pointed to the place, Dark sentences of old ; much pious zeal Where from their sight the faint horizon hid For great Jehovah's honour fires his soul; Those hills, which round deserted Salem's walls And thus, with lifted hands, the prophet crie Stood like a bulwark. And as some tired hart, " Father of truth, and mercy, thou whose are Driven by keen hunters o'er the champain wild, Even from the day when Abraham heard thyroi. Pants for the running brook, so long the tribes Stretch'd o'er thy chosen race, protects us scil.