<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=415299" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Minstrel ; Or, The Progress Of Genius - Book II.</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I. <br>Of chance or change O let not man complain,<br>Else shall he never never cease to wail:<br>For, from the imperial dome, to where the swain<br>Rears the lone cottage in the silent dale,<br>All feel the assault of fortune's fickle gale;<br>Art, empire, earth itself to change are doom'd;<br>Earthquakes have raised to heaven the humble vale,<br>And gulphs the mountain's mighty mass entomb'd,<br>And where the Atlantic rolls wide continents have bloom'd.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">II. <br>But sure to foreign climes we need not range,<br>Nor search the ancient records of our race,<br>To learn the dire effects of time and change,<br>Which in ourselves, alas! we daily trace.<br>Yet at the darken'd eye, the wither'd face,<br>Or hoary hair, I never will repine:<br>But spare, O Time, whate'er of mental grace,<br>Of candour, love, or sympathy divine,<br>Whate'er of fancy's ray, of friendship's flame is mine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">III.<br>So I, obsequious to Truth's dread command,<br>Shall here without reluctance change my lay,<br>And smile to the Gothic lyre with harsher hand;<br>Now when I leave that flowery path for aye<br>Of childhood, where I sported many a day,<br>Warbling and sauntering carelessly along;<br>Where every face was innocent and gay,<br>Each vale romantic, tuneful every tongue, <br>Sweet, wild, and artless all, as Edwin's infant song.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">IV.<br>'Perish the lore that deadens young desire,'<br>Is the soft tenor of my song no more.<br>Edwin, though loved of Heaven, must not aspire<br>To bliss, which mortals never knew before.<br>On trembling wings let youthful fancy soar,<br>Nor always haunt the sunny realms of joy;<br>But now and then the shades of life explore;<br>Though many a sound and sight of wo annoy,<br>And many a qualm of care his rising hopes destroy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">V.<br>Vigour from toil, from trouble patience grows.<br>The weakly bosom, warm in summer bower,<br>Some tints of transient beauty may disclose;<br>But soon it withers in the chilling hour.<br>Mark yonder oak. Superior to the power<br>Of all the warring winds of heaven they rise,<br>And from the stormy promontory tower,<br>And toss their giant arms amid the skies,<br>While each assailing blast increase the strength supplies.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VI.<br>And now the downy cheek and deepen'd voice<br>Gave dignity to Edwin's blooming prime;<br>And walks of wider circuit were his choice,<br>And vales more wild, and mountains more sublime.<br>One evening, as he framed the careless rhyme,<br>It was his chance to wander far abroad,<br>And o'er a lonely eminence to climb,<br>Which heretofore his foot had never trode;<br>A vale appear'd below, a deep retired abode.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VII. <br>Thither he hied enamour'd of the scene:<br>For rocks on rocks piled, as by magic spell,<br>Here scorch'd with lightning, there with ivy green,<br>Fenced from the north and east this savage del;<br>Southward a mountain rose with easy swell,<br>Whose long long groves eternal murmur made,<br>And toward the western sun a streamlet fell,<br>Where, through the cliffs, the eye, remote, survey'd<br>Blue hills, and glittering waves, and skies in gold array'd.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VIII.<br>Along this narrow valley you might see<br>The wild deer sporting on the meadow ground,<br>And, here and there, a solitary tree,<br>Or mossy stone, or rock with woodbine crown'd.<br>Oft did the cliffs reverberate the sound<br>Of parted fragments tumbling from on high;<br>And from the summit of that craggy mound<br>The perching eagle oft was heard to cry,<br>Or on resounding wings to shoot athwart the sky.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">IX.<br>One cultivated spot there was, that spread<br>Its flowery bosom to the noonday beam,<br>Where many a rose-bud rears its blushing head,<br>And herbs for food with future plenty teem.<br>Sooth'd by the lulling sound of grove and stream<br>Romantic visions swarm on Edwin's soul:<br>He minded not the sun's last trembling gleam,<br>Nor heard from afar the twilight curfew toll; -<br>When slowly on his ear these moving accents stole.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">X.<br>'Hail, awful scenes, that calm the troubled breast,<br>And woo the weary to profound repose;<br>Can passion's wildest uproar lay to rest,<br>And whisper comfort to the man of woes!<br>Here Innocence may wander, safe from foes,<br>And Contemplation soar on seraph wings.<br>O Solitude, the man who thee forgoes,<br>When lucre lures him, or ambition stings,<br>Shall never know the source whence real grandeur springs.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XI.<br>'Vain man, is grandeur given to gay attire?<br>Then let the butterfly thy pride upbraid: -<br>To friends, attendant, armies, bought with hire?<br>It is thy weakness that requires their aid, -<br>To palaces, with gold and gems inlay'd?<br>They fear the thief, and tremble in the storm; -<br>To hosts, through carnage who to conquests wade?<br>Behold the victor vanquish'd by the worm!<br>Behold, what deeds of wo the locust can perform!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XII.<br>'True dignity is his, whose tranquil mind<br>Virtue has raised above the things below,<br>Who, every hope and fear to heaven resign'd,<br>Shrinks not, though Fortune aim her deadliest blow.'<br>- This strain from 'midst the rocks was heard to flow<br>In solemn sounds. Now beam'd the evening star,<br>And from embattled clouds emerging slow,<br>Cynthia came riding on her silver car;<br>And hoary mountain-cliffs shone faintly from afar.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XIII.<br>Soon did the solemn voice its theme renew;<br>(While Edwin wrapp'd in wonder listening stood)<br>'Ye tools and toys of tyranny, adieu, <br>Scorn'd by the wise, and hated by the good!<br>Ye only can engage the service brood<br>Of Levity and Lust, who all their days,<br>Ashamed of truth and liberty, have woo'd, <br>And hugg'd the chain, that glittering on their gaze<br>Seems to outshine the pomp of heaven's empyreal blaze.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XIV. <br>'Like them, abandon'd to ambition's sway,<br>I sought for glory in the paths of guile;<br>And fawn'd and smiled to plunder and betray,<br>Myself betray'd and plunder'd all the while;<br>So gnaw'd the viper the corroding file.<br>But now with pangs of keen remorse I rue<br>Those years of trouble and debasement vile -<br>Yet why should I this cruel theme pursue!<br>Fly, fly, detested thoughts, for ever from my view.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XV.<br>'The gusts of appetite, the clouds of care,<br>And storms of disappointment, all o'erpass'd,<br>Henceforth no earthly hope with heaven shall share<br>This heart where peace serenely shines at last.<br>And if for me no treasure be amass'd,<br>And if no future age shall hear my name,<br>I lurk the more secure from fortune's blast,<br>And with more leisure feed this pious flame,<br>Whose rapture far transcends the fairest hopes of fame.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XVI. <br>'The end and the reward of toil is rest.<br>Be all my prayer for virtue and for peace.<br>Of wealth and fame, of pomp and power possess'd,<br>Who ever felt his weight of wo decrease!<br>Ah! what avails the lore of Rome and Greece,<br>The lay heaven-prompted, and harmonious<br>The dust of Ophir, or the Tyrian fleece,<br>All that art, fortune, enterprise, can bring,<br>If envy, scorn, remorse, or pride the bosom wring?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XVII.<br>'Let Vanity adorn the marble tomb<br>With trophies, rhymes, and scutcheons of renown,<br>In the deep dungeon of some Gothic dome,<br>Where night and desolation ever frown.<br>Mine be the breezy hill that skirts the down;<br>Where a green grassy turf is all I crave,<br>With here and there a violet bestrown,<br>Fast by a brook, or fountain's murmuring wave;<br>And many an evening sun shine sweetly on my grave.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XVIII.<br>'And thither let the village swain repair;<br>And, light of heart the village maiden gay,<br>To deck with flowers her half-dishevel'd hair,<br>And celebrate the merry morn of May;<br>There let the shepherd's pipe the livelong day,<br>Fill all the grove with love's bewitching wo;<br>And when mild Evening comes with mantle gray,<br>Let not the blooming band make haste to go,<br>No ghosts nor spell my long and last abode shall know.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XIX.<br>'For though I fly to 'scape from fortune's rage,<br>And bear the scars of envy, spite, and scorn,<br>Yet with mankind no horrid war I wage,<br>Yet with no impious spleen my breast is torn;<br>For virtue lost, and ruin'd man, I mourn.<br>O man, creation's pride, heaven's darling child, <br>Whom nature's best, divinest gifts adorn,<br>Why from thy home are truth and joy exiled,<br>And all thy favourite haunts with blood and tears defiled!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XX.<br>'Along yon glittering sky what glory streams!<br>What majesty attends night's lovely queen;<br>Fair laugh our valleys in the vernal beams;<br>And mountains rise, and oceans roll between,<br>And all conspire to beautify the scene.<br>But, in the mental world, what chaos drear!<br>What forms of mournful, loathsome, furious mien!<br>O when shall Eternal Morn appear,<br>These dreadful forms to chase, this chaos dark to clear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXI. <br>'O thou, at whose creative smile, yon heaven,<br>In all the pomp of beauty, life, and light,<br>Rose from th' abyss; when dark Confusion, driven<br>Down down the bottomless profound of night,<br>Fled, where he ever flies thy piercing sight!<br>O glance on these sad shades one pitying ray,<br>To blast the fury of oppressive might,<br>Melt the hard heart to love and mercy's sway,<br>And cheer the wandering soul, and light him on the way.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXII.<br>Silence ensued: and Edwin raised his eyes<br>In tears, for grief lay heavy at his heart.<br>'And it is thus in courtly life (he cries)<br>That man to man acts a betrayer's part!<br>And dares he thus the gifts of Heaven pervert,<br>Each social instinct, and sublime desire! -<br>Hail poverty! if honour, wealth, and art,<br>If what the great pursue, and learn'd admire,<br>Thus dissipate and quench the soul's ethereal fire!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXIII.<br>He said, and turn'd away; nor did the sage<br>O'erhear, in silent orisons employ'd.<br>The youth, his rising sorrow to assuage,<br>Home as he hied, the evening scene enjoy'd:<br>For now no cloud obscures the starry void;<br>The yellow moonlight sleeps on all the hills;<br>Nor is the mind with startling sounds annoy'd, <br>A soothing murmur the lone region fills<br>Of groves, and dying gales, and melancholy rills.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXIV. <br>But he from day to day more anxious grew,<br>The voice still seem'd to vibrate on his ear,<br>Nor durst he hope the Hermit's tale untrue;<br>For man he seem'd to love, and Heaven to fear;<br>And none speaks false, where there is none to hear.<br>'Yet can man's gentle heart become so fell!<br>No more in vain conjecture let me wear<br>My hours away, but seek the Hermit's cell;<br>'Tis he my doubt can clear, perhaps my care dispel.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXV. <br>At early dawn the youth his journey took,<br>And many a mountain pass'd, and valley wide,<br>Then reach'd the wild; where, in a flowery nook<br>And seated on a mossy stone, he spied<br>An ancient man: his harp lay him beside.<br>A stag sprung from the pasture at his call,<br>And, kneeling, lick'd the wither'd hand, that tied <br>A wreathe of woodbine round his antlers tall,<br>And hung his lofty neck with many a floweret small.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXVI. <br>And now the hoary sage arose, and saw<br>The wanderer approaching: innocence<br>Smiled on his glowing cheek, but modest awe<br>Depress'd his eye, that fear'd to give offence.<br>'Who art thou, courteous stranger? and from whence?<br>Why roam thy steps to this abandon'd dale?'<br>'A shepherd-boy (the youth replied) far hence<br>My habitation; hear my artless tale;<br>Nor levity nor falsehood shall thine ear assail.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXVII. <br>'Late as I roam'd, intent on Nature's charms,<br>I reach'd at eve this wilderness profound;<br>And, leaning where yon oak expands her arms,<br>Heard these rude cliffs thine awful voice rebound,<br>(For in thy speech I recognise the sound.)<br>You mourn'd for ruin'd man, and virtue lost,<br>And seem'd to feel of keen remorse the wound,<br>Pondering on former days, by guilt engross'd,<br>Or in the giddy storm of dissipation toss'd.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXVIII.<br>'But say, in courtly life can craft be learn'd<br>Where knowledge opens, and exalts the soul?<br>Where Fortune lavishes her gifts unearn'd,<br>Can selfishness the liberal heart control?<br>Is glory there achieved by arts, as foul<br>As those which felons, fiends, and furies plan?<br>Spiders ensnare, snakes poison, tygers prowl;<br>Love is the godlike attribute of man.<br>O teach a simple youth this mystery to scan.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXIX. <br>'Or else the lamentable strain disclaim,<br>And give me back the calm, contended mind;<br>Which, late exulting, view'd, in Nature's frame,<br>Goodness untainted, wisdom unconfined,<br>Grace, grandeur, and utility combined. <br>Restore those tranquill days, that saw me still<br>Well pleased with all, but most with human kind;<br>When Fancy roam'd through Nature's works at will,<br>Uncheck'd by cold distrust, and uninform'd of ill.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXX. <br>'Wouldest thou (the sage replied) in peace return<br>To the gay dreams of fond romantic youth,<br>Leave me to hide, in this remote sojourn,<br>From every gentle ear the dreadful truth:<br>For if my desultory strain with ruth<br>And indignation make thine eyes o'erflow,<br>Alas! what comfort could thy anguish soot,<br>Shouldst thou th' extent of human folly know.<br>Be ignorance thy choice, where knowledge leads to wo.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXXI.<br>'But let untender thoughts afar be driven;<br>Nor venture to arraign the dread decree;<br>For know, to man, as candidate for heaven,<br>The voice of the Eternal said, Be free;<br>And this divine prerogative to thee <br>Does virtue, happiness, and heaven convey:<br>For virtue is the child of liberty,<br>And happiness of virtue; nor can they <br>Be free to keep the path who are not free to stray.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXXII. <br>'Yet leave me not. I would allay that grief,<br>Which else might thy young virtue overpower;<br>And in thy converse I shall find relief,<br>When the dark shades of melancholy lower;<br>For solitude has many a dreary hour,<br>Even when exempt from grief, remorse, and pain:<br>Come often then; for, haply, in my bower<br>Amusement then, knowledge, wisdom thou may'st gain<br>If I one soul improve, I have not lived in vain.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXXIII.<br>And now, at length, to Edwin's ardent gaze<br>The Muse of history unrolls her page,<br>But few, alas! the scenes her art displays<br>To charm his fancy, or his heart engage,<br>Here Chiefs their thirst of power in blood assuage,<br>And straight their flames with tenfold fierceness burn:<br>Here smiling Virtue prompts the patriot's rage,<br>But lo, ere long, is left alone to mourn,<br>And languish in the dust, and clasp th' abandon'd urn.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXXIV.<br>'Ah, what avails (he said) to trace the springs,<br>That whirl of empire the stupendous wheel!<br>Ah, what have I to do with conquering kings,<br>Hands drench'd in blood, and breasts begirt with steel!<br>To those, whom Nature taught to think and feel,<br>Heroes, alas! are things of small concern. <br>Could History man's secret heart reveal,<br>And what imports a heaven-born mind to learn,<br>Her transcripts to explore what bosom would not yearn!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXXV.<br>'This praise, O Cheronean Sage, is thine.<br>(Why should this praise to thee alone belong!)<br>All else from Nature's moral path decline,<br>Lured by the toys that captivate the throng;<br>To herd in cabinets, and camps, among<br>Spoil, carnage, and the cruel pomp of pride;<br>Or chaunt of heraldry the drowsy song,<br>How tyrant blood, o'er many a region wide,<br>Rolls to a thousand thrones its execrable tide.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXXVI. <br>'O who of man the story will unfold,<br>Ere victory and empire wrought annoy,<br>In that elysian age (misnamed of gold)<br>The age of love and innocence, and joy,<br>When all were great and free! man's sole employ<br>To deck the bosom of his parent earth;<br>Or toward his bower the murmuring stream decoy,<br>To aid the floweret's long-expected birth,<br>And lull the bed of peace, and crown the board of mirth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXXVII.<br>'Sweet were your shades, O ye primeval groves,<br>Whose boughs to man his food and shelter lent,<br>Pure in his pleasures, happy in his loves,<br>His eye still smiling, and his heart content.<br>Then, hand in hand, Health, Sport, and Labour went.<br>Nature supplied the wish she taught to crave.<br>None prowl'd for prey, none watch'd to circumvent,<br>To all an equal lot Heaven's bounty gave;<br>No vassal fear'd his lord, no tyrant fear'd his slave.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXXVIII. <br>'But ah! th' Historic Muse has never dared<br>To pierce those hallow'd bowers: 'tis Fancy's beam<br>Pour'd on the vision of th' enraptured Bard,<br>That paints the charms of that delicious theme.<br>Then hail sweet Fancy's ray! and hail the dream<br>That weans the weary soul from guilt and wo!<br>Careless what others of my choice may deem,<br>I long where Love and Fancy lead to go,<br>And meditate on heaven; enough of earth I know.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXXIX.<br>'I cannot blame thy choice (the Sage replied)<br>For soft and smooth are Fancy's flowery ways,<br>And yet even there, if left without a guide,<br>The young adventurer unsafely plays.<br>Eyes dazzled long by Fiction's gaudy rays,<br>In modest Truth no light nor beauty find.<br>And who, my child, would trust the meteor-blaze, <br>That soon must fail, and leave the wanderer blind,<br>More dark and helpless far, than if it ne'er had shined!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XL. <br>'Fancy enervates, while it soothes, the heart<br>And, while it dazzles, wounds the mental sight;<br>To joy each heightening charm it can impart,<br>But wraps the hour of wo in tenfold night.<br>And often, where no real ills affright,<br>Its visionary fiends, and endless train,<br>Assail with equal or superior might,<br>And thro' the throbbing heart, and dizzy brain,<br>And shivering nerves, shoot stings of more than mortal pain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XLI. <br>'And yet, alas! the real ills of life<br>Claim the full vigour of a mind prepared,<br>Prepared for patient, long, laborious strife,<br>Its guide Experience, and Truth its guard.<br>We fare on earth as other men have fared;<br>Were they successful? Let not us despair.<br>Was disappointment oft their sole reward?<br>Yet shall their tale instruct, if it declare<br>How they have borne the load ourselves are doom'd to bear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XLII. <br>'What charms th' Historic Muse adorn, from spoils,<br>And blood, and tyrants, when she wings her flight,<br>To hail the patriot Prince, whose pious toils<br>Sacred to science; liberty, and right,<br>And peace, through every age divinely bright<br>Shall shine the boast and wonder of mankind!<br>Sees yonder sun, from his meridian height,<br>A lovelier scene, than Virtue thus enshrined<br>In power, and man with man for mutual aid combined?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XLIII. <br>'Hail sacred Polity, by Freedom rear'd!<br>Hail sacred Freedom, when by Law restrain'd?<br>Without you what were man? A grovelling herd<br>In darkness, wretchedness, and want enchain'd.<br>Sublimed by you, the Greek and Roman reign'd<br>In arts unrivall'd: O, to latest days,<br>In Albion may your influence unprofaned<br>To godlike worth the generous bosom raise,<br>And prompt the Sage's lore, and fire the Poet's lays!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XLIV. <br>'But now let other themes our care engage,<br>For lo, with modest, yet majestic grace,<br>To curb Imagination's lawless rage,<br>And from within the cherish'd heart to brace,<br>Philosophy appears. The gloomy race<br>By Indolence and moping Fancy bred,<br>Fear, Discontent, Solicitude give place,<br>And Hope and Courage brighten in their stead,<br>While on the kindling soul her vital beams are shed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XLV. <br>'Then waken from long lethargy to life,<br>The seeds of happiness, and powers of thought;<br>Then jarring appetites forego their strife,<br>A strife by ignorance to madness wrought.<br>Pleasure by savage man is dearly bought<br>With fell revenge, lust that defies control,<br>With gluttony and death. The mind untaught<br>Is a dark waste, where fiends and tempests howl;<br>As Phoebus to the world, is Science to the soul.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XLVI. <br>'And Reason now through Number, Time, and Space,<br>Darts the keen lustre of her serious eye,<br>And learns from facts compared, the laws to trace,<br>Whose long progression leads to Deity.<br>Can mortal strength presume to soar so high! <br>Can mortal sight, so oft bedimm'd with tears,<br>Such glory bear! - for lo, the shadows fly<br>From Nature's face; Confusion disappears,<br>And order charms the eyes, and harmony the ears.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XLVII.<br>'In the deep windings of the grove, no more<br>The hag obscene, and grisly phantom dwell;<br>Nor in the fall of mountain-stream, or roar<br>Of winds, is heard the angry spirit's yell;<br>No wizard mutters the tremendous spell,<br>Nor sinks convulsive in prophetic swoon;<br>Nor bids the noise of drums and trumpets swell,<br>To ease of fancied pangs the labouring moon,<br>Or chase the shade that blots the blazing orb of noon.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XLVIII.<br>'Many a long-lingering year, in lonely isle, <br>Stunn'd with th' eternal turbulence of waves,<br>Lo, with dim eyes, that never learn'd to smile,<br>And trembling hands, the famish'd native craves<br>O Heaven his wretched fare: shivering in caves,<br>Or scorch'd on rocks, he pines from day to day;<br>But Science gives the word; and lo, he braves<br>The surge and tempest, lighted by her ray,<br>And to a happier land wafts merrily away.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XLIX. <br>'And even where Nature loads the teeming plain<br>With the full pomp of vegetable store,<br>Her beauty, unimproved, is deadly bane;<br>Dark woods and rankling wilds, from shore to shore,<br>Stretch their enormous gloom; which to explore<br>Even Fancy trembles, in her sprightliest mood;<br>For there each eyeball gleams with lust of gore,<br>Nestles each murderous and each monstrous brood,<br>Plague lurks in every shade, and teams from every flood.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">L. <br>''Twas from Philosophy man learn'd to tame<br>The soil by plenty to intemperance fed.<br>Lo, from the echoing axe, and thundering flame,<br>Poison and plague and yelling rage are fled.<br>The waters, bursting from their slimy bed,<br>Bring health and melody to every vale:<br>And, from the breezy main, and mountain's head,<br>Ceres and Flora, to the sunny dale,<br>To fan their glowing charms, invite the fluttering gale;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LI.<br>'What dire necessities on every hand<br>Our art, our strength, our fortitude require<br>Of foes intestine what a numerous band<br>Against this little throb of life conspire!<br>Yet Science can elude their fatal ire<br>A while, and turn aside Death's levell'd dart,<br>Sooth the sharp pang, allay the fever's fire,<br>And brace the nerves once more, and cheer the heart,<br>And yet a few soft nights and balmy days impart.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LII. <br>'Nor less to regulate man's moral frame<br>Science exerts her all-composing sway,<br>Flutters thy breast with fear, or pants for fame,<br>Or pines to Indolence and Spleen a prey,<br>Or Avarice, a fiend more fierce than they?<br>Flee to the shade of Academus' grove;<br>Where cares molest not, discord melts away<br>In harmony, and the pure passions prove <br>How sweet the words of truth breathed from the lips of Love.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LIII. <br>'What cannot Art and Industry perform,<br>When Science plans the progress of their toil!<br>They smile at penury, disease, and storm;<br>And oceans from their mighty mounds recoil,<br>When tyrants scourge, or demagogues embroil<br>A land, or when the rabble's headlong rage<br>Order transforms to anarchy and spoil,<br>Deep-versed in man the philosophic Sage<br>Prepares with lenient hand their frenzy to assuage.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LIV. <br>''Tis he alone, whose comprehensive mind,<br>From situation, temper, soil, and clime<br>Explored, a nation's various powers can bind<br>And various orders, in one form sublime<br>Of polity, that, 'midst the wrecks of time,<br>Secure shall lift its head on high, nor fear<br>Th' assault of foreign or domestic crime,<br>While public faith, and public love sincere,<br>And Industry and Law maintain their sway severe.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LV. <br>Enraptured by the Hermit's strain, the Youth<br>Proceeds the path of Science to explore.<br>And now, expanding to the beams of Truth,<br>New energies, and charms unknown before,<br>His mind discloses: Fancy now no more<br>Wantons on fickle pinion through the skies;<br>But fix'd in aim, and conscious of her power,<br>Sublime from cause to cause exults to rise,<br>Creation's blended stores arranging as she flies.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LVI.<br>Nor love of novelty alone inspires,<br>Their laws and nice dependencies to scan;<br>For, mindful of the aids that life requires,<br>And of the services man owes to man,<br>He meditates new arts on Nature's plan;<br>The cold desponding breast of Sloth to warm,<br>The flame of Industry and Genius fan, <br>And Emulation's noble rage alarm,<br>And the long hours of Toil and Solitude to charm.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LVII.<br>But she, who set on fire his infant heart,<br>And all his dreams, and all his wanderings shared,<br>And bless'd the Muse, and her celestial art,<br>Still claim th' Enthusiastic's fond and first regard <br>From Nature's beauties variously compared<br>And variously combined, he learns to frame<br>Those forms of bright perfection, which the Bard,<br>While boundless hopes and boundless views inflame,<br>Enamour'd consecrates to never-dying fame.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LVIII.<br>Of late, with cumbersome, though pompous show,<br>Edwin would oft his flowery rhyme deface,<br>Through ardour to adorn; but Nature now<br>To his experienced eye a modest grace<br>Presents, where Ornament the second place<br>Holds, to intrinsic worth and just design<br>Subservient still. Simplicity apace<br>Tempers his rage: he owns her charm divine,<br>And clear th' ambiguous phrase, and lops th' unwieldy line.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LIX. <br>Fain would I sing (much yet unsung remains)<br>What sweet delirium o'er his bosom stole,<br>When the great Shepherd of the Mantuan plains<br>His deep majestic melody 'gan roll:<br>Fain would I sing, what transport storm'd his soul,<br>How the red current throbb'd his veins along,<br>When, like Pelides, bold beyond control,<br>Gracefully terrible, sublimely strong,<br>Homer raised high to heaven the loud, th' impetuous song.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LX.<br>And how his lyre, though rude her first essays,<br>Now skill'd to sooth, to triumph, to complain,<br>Warbling at will through each harmonious maze,<br>Was taught to modulate the artful strain,<br>I fain would sing: - but ah! I strive in vain - <br>Sight from a breaking heart my voice confound -<br>With trembling step to join yon weeping train,<br>I haste, where gleams funereal glare around,<br>And, mix'd with shrieks of wo, the knells of death resound.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXI.<br>Adieu, ye lays, that Fancy's flowers adorn,<br>The soft amusement of the vacant mind!<br>He sleeps in dust, and all the Muses mourn,<br>He, whom each Virtue fired! each Grace refined,<br>Friend, teacher, pattern, darling of mankind! -<br>He sleeps in dust, - Ah, how should I pursue<br>My theme! - To heart-consuming grief resign'd,<br>Here on his recent grave I fix my view,<br>And pour my bitter tears. - Ye flowery lays, adieu!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXII.<br>Art thou, my <br>Gregory<br>, for ever fled!<br>And am I left to unavailing wo!<br>When fortune's storms assail this weary head,<br>Where cares long since have shed untimely snow<br>Ah, now for comfort whither shall I go!<br>No more thy soothing voice my anguish cheers<br>Thy placid eyes with smiles no longer glow,<br>My hopes to cherish, and allay my fears -<br>'Tis meet that I should mourn: - flow forth afresh my tears.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=James+Beattie">James Beattie</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=415299" data-title="The Minstrel ; Or, The Progress Of Genius - Book II. de James Beattie" data-description="I. Of 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 i..."></div> </div> </div>

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