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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=415302" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Triumph Of Melancholy</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">1</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Memory, be still! why throng upon the thought<br>These scenes deep-stain'd with Sorrow's sable dye?<br>Hast thou in store no joy-illumined draught,<br>To cheer bewilder'd Fancy's tearful eye?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>2</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yes—from afar a landscape seems to rise,<br>Deck'd gorgeous by the lavish hand of Spring:<br>Thin gilded clouds float light along the skies,<br>And laughing Loves disport on fluttering wing.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>3</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How blest the youth in yonder valley laid!<br>Soft smiles in every conscious feature play,<br>While to the gale low murmuring through the glade,<br>He tempers sweet his sprightly-warbling lay.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>4</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hail, Innocence! whose bosom, all serene,<br>Feels not fierce Passion's raving tempest roll!<br>Oh, ne'er may Care distract that placid mien!<br>Oh, ne'er may Doubt's dark shades o'erwhelm thy soul!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>5</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Vain wish! for, lo! in gay attire conceal'd,<br>Yonder she comes, the heart-inflaming fiend!<br>(Will no kind power the helpless stripling shield?)<br>Swift to her destined prey see Passion bend!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>6</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O smile accursed, to hide the worst designs!<br>Now with blithe eye she woo's him to be blest,<br>While round her arm unseen a serpent twines—<br>And, lo! she hurls it hissing at his breast.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>7</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And, instant, lo! his dizzy eyeball swims<br>Ghastly, and reddening darts a threatful glare;<br>Pain with strong grasp distorts his writhing limbs,<br>And Fear's cold hand erects his bristling hair!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>8</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Is this, O life, is this thy boasted prime?<br>And does thy spring no happier prospect yield?<br>Why gilds the vernal sun thy gaudy clime,<br>When nipping mildews waste the flowery field?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>9</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How Memory pains! Let some gay theme beguile<br>The musing mind, and soothe to soft delight.<br>Ye images of woe, no more recoil;<br>Be life's past scenes wrapt in oblivious night.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>10</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now when fierce Winter, arm'd with wasteful power,<br>Heaves the wild deep that thunders from afar,<br>How sweet to sit in this sequester'd bower,<br>To hear, and but to hear, the mingling war!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>11</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ambition here displays no gilded toy<br>That tempts on desperate wing the soul to rise,<br>Nor Pleasure's flower-embroider'd paths decoy,<br>Nor Anguish lurks in Grandeur's gay disguise.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>12</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oft has Contentment cheer'd this lone abode<br>With the mild languish of her smiling eye;<br>Here Health has oft in blushing beauty glow'd,<br>While loose-robed Quiet stood enamour'd by.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>13</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Even the storm lulls to more profound repose:<br>The storm these humble walls assails in vain:<br>Screen'd is the lily when the whirlwind blows,<br>While the oak's stately ruin strews the plain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>14</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Blow on, ye winds! Thine, Winter, be the skies;<br>Roll the old ocean, and the vales lay waste:<br>Nature thy momentary rage defies;<br>To her relief the gentler seasons haste.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>15</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Throned in her emerald car, see Spring appear!<br>(As Fancy wills, the landscape starts to view)<br>Her emerald car the youthful Zephyrs bear,<br>Fanning her bosom with their pinions blue.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>16</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Around the jocund Hours are fluttering seen;<br>And, lo! her rod the rose-lipp'd power extends.<br>And, lo! the lawns are deck'd in living green,<br>And Beauty's bright-eyed train from heaven descends.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>17</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Haste, happy days, and make all nature glad—<br>But will all nature joy at your return?<br>Say, can ye cheer pale Sickness' gloomy bed,<br>Or dry the tears that bathe the untimely urn?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>18</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Will ye one transient ray of gladness dart<br>'Cross the dark cell where hopeless slavery lies?<br>To ease tired Disappointment's bleeding heart,<br>Will all your stores of softening balm suffice?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>19</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When fell Oppression in his harpy fangs<br>From Want's weak grasp the last sad morsel bears,<br>Can ye allay the heart-wrung parent's pangs,<br>Whose famish'd child craves help with fruitless tears?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>20</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For ah! thy reign, Oppression, is not past,<br>Who from the shivering limbs the vestment rends,<br>Who lays the once rejoicing village waste,<br>Bursting the ties of lovers and of friends.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>21</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O ye, to Pleasure who resign the day,<br>As loose in Luxury's clasping arms you lie,<br>O yet let pity in your breast bear sway,<br>And learn to melt at Misery's moving cry.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>22</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But hop'st thou, Muse, vain-glorious as thou art,<br>With the weak impulse of thy humble strain,<br>Hop'st thou to soften Pride's obdurate heart,<br>When Errol's bright example shines in vain?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>23</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then cease the theme. Turn, Fancy, turn thine eye,<br>Thy weeping eye, nor further urge thy flight;<br>Thy haunts, alas! no gleams of joy supply,<br>Or transient gleams, that flash and sink in night.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>24</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet fain the mind its anguish would forego—<br>Spread then, historic Muse, thy pictured scroll;<br>Bid thy great scenes in all their splendour glow,<br>And swell to thought sublime the exalted soul.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>25</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What mingling pomps rush boundless on the gaze!<br>What gallant navies ride the heaving deep!<br>What glittering towns their cloud-wrapt turrets raise!<br>What bulwarks frown horrific o'er the steep!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>26</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Bristling with spears, and bright with burnish'd shields,<br>The embattled legions stretch their long array;<br>Discord's red torch, as fierce she scours the fields,<br>With bloody tincture stains the face of day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>27</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And now the hosts in silence wait the sign.<br>How keen their looks whom Liberty inspires!<br>Quick as the Goddess darts along the line,<br>Each breast impatient burns with noble fires.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>28</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Her form how graceful! In her lofty mien<br>The smiles of Love stern Wisdom's frown control;<br>Her fearless eye, determined though serene,<br>Speaks the great purpose, and the unconquer'd soul.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>29</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Mark, where Ambition leads the adverse band,<br>Each feature fierce and haggard, as with pain!<br>With menace loud he cries, while from his hand<br>He vainly strives to wipe the crimson stain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>30</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lo! at his call, impetuous as the storms,<br>Headlong to deeds of death the hosts are driven:<br>Hatred to madness wrought, each face deforms,<br>Mounts the black whirlwind, and involves the heaven.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>31</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now, Virtue, now thy powerful succour lend,<br>Shield them for Liberty who dare to die—<br>Ah, Liberty! will none thy cause befriend?<br>Are these thy sons, thy generous sons, that fly?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>32</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not Virtue's self, when Heaven its aid denies,<br>Can brace the loosen'd nerves or warm the heart!<br>Not Virtue's self can still the burst of sighs,<br>When festers in the soul Misfortune's dart.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>33</div><div style="margin:10px 0">See where, by heaven-bred terror all dismay'd<br>The scattering legions pour along the plain;<br>Ambition's car, with bloody spoils array'd,<br>Hews its broad way, as Vengeance guides the rein.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>34</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But who is he that, by yon lonely brook,<br>With woods o'erhung and precipices rude1,<br>Abandon'd lies, and with undaunted look<br>Sees streaming from his breast the purple flood?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>35</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah, Brutus! ever thine be Virtue's tear!<br>Lo! his dim eyes to Liberty he turns,<br>As scarce supported on her broken spear<br>O'er her expiring son the goddess mourns.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>36</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Loose to the wind her azure mantle flies,<br>From her dishevell'd locks she rends the plume;<br>No lustre lightens in her weeping eyes,<br>And on her tear-stain'd cheek no roses bloom.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>37</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Meanwhile the world, Ambition, owns thy sway,<br>Fame's loudest trumpet labours in thy praise,<br>For thee the Muse awakes her sweetest lay,<br>And Flattery bids for thee her altars blaze.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>38</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nor in life's lofty bustling sphere alone,<br>The sphere where monarchs and where heroes toil,<br>Sink Virtue's sons beneath Misfortune's frown,<br>While Guilt's thrill'd bosom leaps at Pleasure's smile;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>39</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Full oft, where Solitude and Silence dwell,<br>Far, far remote, amid the lowly plain,<br>Resounds the voice of Woe from Virtue's cell:<br>Such is man's doom, and Pity weeps in vain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>40</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Still grief recoils—How vainly have I strove<br>Thy power, O Melancholy, to withstand!<br>Tired I submit; but yet, O yet remove<br>Or ease the pressure of thy heavy hand.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>41</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet for a while let the bewilder'd soul<br>Find in society relief from woe;<br>O yield a while to Friendship's soft control;<br>Some respite, Friendship, wilt thou not bestow?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>42</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Come, then, Philander! for thy lofty mind<br>Looks down from far on all that charms the great;<br>For thou canst bear, unshaken and resign'd,<br>The brightest smiles, the blackest frowns of Fate:</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>43</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Come thou, whose love unlimited, sincere,<br>Nor faction cools, nor injury destroys;<br>Who lend'st to misery's moans a pitying ear,<br>And feel'st with ecstasy another's joys:</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>44</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Who know'st man's frailty: with a favouring eye,<br>And melting heart, behold'st a brother's fall;<br>Who, unenslaved by custom's narrow tie,<br>With manly freedom follow'st reason's call.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>45</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And bring thy Delia, softly-smiling fair,<br>Whose spotless soul no sordid thoughts deform:<br>Her accents mild would still each throbbing care,<br>And harmonize the thunder of the storm.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>46</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Though blest with wisdom, and with wit refined,<br>She courts not homage, nor desires to shine:<br>In her each sentiment sublime is join'd<br>To female sweetness, and a form divine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>47</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Come, and dispel the deep surrounding shade:<br>Let chasten'd mirth the social hours employ;<br>O catch the swift-wing'd hour before 'tis fled,<br>On swiftest pinion flies the hour of joy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>48</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Even while the careless disencumber'd soul<br>Dissolving sinks to joy's oblivious dream,<br>Even then to time's tremendous verge we roll<br>With haste impetuous down life's surgy stream.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>49</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Can Gaiety the vanish'd years restore,<br>Or on the withering limbs fresh beauty shed,<br>Or soothe the sad inevitable hour,<br>Or cheer the dark, dark mansions of the dead?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>50</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Still sounds the solemn knell in Fancy's ear,<br>That call'd Cleora to the silent tomb;<br>To her how jocund roll'd the sprightly year!<br>How shone the nymph in beauty's brightest bloom!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>51</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah! beauty's bloom avails not in the grave,<br>Youth's lofty mien, nor age's awful grace:<br>Moulder unknown the monarch and the slave,<br>Whelm'd in the enormous wreck of human race.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>52</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The thought-fix'd portraiture, the breathing bust,<br>The arch with proud memorials array'd,<br>The long-lived pyramid shall sink in dust<br>To dumb oblivion's ever-desert shade.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>53</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Fancy from comfort wanders still astray.<br>Ah, Melancholy! how I feel thy power!<br>Long have I labour'd to elude thy sway!<br>But 'tis enough, for I resist no more.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>54</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The traveller thus, that o'er the midnight waste<br>Through many a lonesome path is doom'd to roam,<br>Wilder'd and weary sits him down at last;<br>For long the night, and distant far his home.</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>
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Memory, be still! why throng upon the thought
These scenes deep-stain'd with Sorrow's sable dye?
Hast thou in store no joy-illumined draught,
To cheer bewilder'd Fancy's tearful eye?


2

Yes—from afar a landscape seems to rise,
Deck'd gorgeo..."></div>
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