<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=416335" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Four Seasons : Summer</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">From brightening fields of ether fair disclosed, <br>Child of the Sun, refulgent Summer comes, <br>In pride of youth, and felt through Nature's depth: <br>He comes attended by the sultry Hours, <br>And ever fanning breezes, on his way; <br>While, from his ardent look, the turning Spring <br>Averts her blushful face; and earth, and skies, <br>All-smiling, to his hot dominion leaves. <br>Hence, let me haste into the mid-wood shade, <br>Where scarce a sunbeam wanders through the gloom; <br>And on the dark-green grass, beside the brink <br>Of haunted stream, that by the roots of oak <br>Rolls o'er the rocky channel, lie at large, <br>And sing the glories of the circling year. <br>Come, Inspiration! from thy hermit-seat, <br>By mortal seldom found: may Fancy dare, <br>From thy fix'd serious eye, and raptured glance <br>Shot on surrounding Heaven, to steal one look <br>Creative of the Poet, every power <br>Exalting to an ecstasy of soul. <br>And thou, my youthful Muse's early friend, <br>In whom the human graces all unite: <br>Pure light of mind, and tenderness of heart; <br>Genius, and wisdom; the gay social sense, <br>By decency chastised; goodness and wit, <br>In seldom-meeting harmony combined; <br>Unblemish'd honour, and an active zeal <br>For Britain's glory, liberty, and Man: <br>O Dodington! attend my rural song, <br>Stoop to my theme, inspirit every line, <br>And teach me to deserve thy just applause. <br>With what an awful world-revolving power <br>Were first the unwieldy planets launch'd along <br>The illimitable void! thus to remain, <br>Amid the flux of many thousand years, <br>That oft has swept the toiling race of men, <br>And all their labour'd monuments away, <br>Firm, unremitting, matchless, in their course; <br>To the kind-temper'd change of night and day, <br>And of the seasons ever stealing round, <br>Minutely faithful: such the All-perfect hand! <br>That poised, impels, and rules the steady whole. <br>When now no more the alternate Twins are fired, <br>And Cancer reddens with the solar blaze, <br>Short is the doubtful empire of the night; <br>And soon, observant of approaching day, <br>The meek'd-eyed Morn appears, mother of dews, <br>At first faint-gleaming in the dappled east: <br>Till far o'er ether spreads the widening glow; <br>And, from before the lustre of her face, <br>White break the clouds away. With quicken'd step, <br>Brown Night retires: young Day pours in apace, <br>And opens all the lawny prospect wide. <br>The dripping rock, the mountain's misty top <br>Swell on the sight, and brighten with the dawn. <br>Blue, through the dusk, the smoking currents shine; <br>And from the bladed field the fearful hare <br>Limps, awkward: while along the forest-glade <br>The wild deer trip, and often turning gaze <br>At early passenger. Music awakes <br>The native voice of undissembled joy; <br>And thick around the woodland hymns arise. <br>Roused by the cock, the soon-clad shepherd leaves <br>His mossy cottage, where with Peace he dwells; <br>And from the crowded fold, in order, drives <br>His flock, to taste the verdure of the morn. <br>Falsely luxurious! will not Man awake; <br>And, springing from the bed of sloth, enjoy <br>The cool, the fragrant, and the silent hour, <br>To meditation due and sacred song? <br>For is there ought in sleep can charm the wise? <br>To lie in dead oblivion, losing half <br>The fleeting moments of too short a life; <br>Total extinction of the enlightened soul! <br>Or else to feverish vanity alive, <br>Wilder'd, and tossing through distemper'd dreams? <br>Who would in such a gloomy state remain <br>Longer than Nature craves; when every Muse <br>And every blooming pleasure wait without, <br>To bless the wildly-devious morning-walk? <br>But yonder comes the powerful King of Day, <br>Rejoicing in the east. The lessening cloud, <br>The kindling azure, and the mountain's brow <br>Illumed with fluid gold, his near approach <br>Betoken glad. Lo! now, apparent all, <br>Aslant the dew-bright earth, and colour'd air, <br>He looks in boundless majesty abroad; <br>And sheds the shining day, that burnish'd plays <br>On rocks, and hills, and towers, and wandering streams, <br>High gleaming from afar. Prime cheerer, Light! <br>Of all material beings first, and best! <br>Efflux divine! Nature's resplendent robe! <br>Without whose vesting beauty all were wrapt <br>In unessential gloom; and thou, O Sun! <br>Soul of surrounding worlds! in whom best seen <br>Shines out thy Maker! may I sing of thee? <br>'Tis by thy secret, strong, attractive force, <br>As with a chain indissoluble bound, <br>Thy system rolls entire: from the far bourne <br>Of utmost Saturn, wheeling wide his round <br>Of thirty years, to Mercury, whose disk <br>Can scarce be caught by philosophic eye, <br>Lost in the near effulgence of thy blaze. <br>Informer of the planetary train! <br>Without whose quickening glance their cumbrous orbs <br>Were brute unlovely mass, inert and dead, <br>And not, as now, the green abodes of life! <br>How many forms of being wait on thee! <br>Inhaling spirit; from the unfetter'd mind, <br>By thee sublimed, down to the daily race, <br>The mixing myriads of thy setting beam. <br>The vegetable world is also thine, <br>Parent of Seasons! who the pomp precede <br>That waits thy throne, as through thy vast domain, <br>Annual, along the bright ecliptic road, <br>In world-rejoicing state, it moves sublime. <br>Meantime the expecting nations, circled gay <br>With all the various tribes of foodful earth, <br>Implore thy bounty, or send grateful up <br>A common hymn: while, round thy beaming car, <br>High-seen, the Seasons lead, in sprightly dance <br>Harmonious knit, the rosy-finger'd Hours, <br>The Zephyrs floating loose, the timely Rains, <br>Of bloom ethereal the light-footed Dews, <br>And softened into joy the surly Storms. <br>These, in successive turn, with lavish hand, <br>Shower every beauty, every fragrance shower, <br>Herbs, flowers, and fruits; and, kindling at thy touch, <br>From land to land is flush'd the vernal year. <br>Nor to the surface of enliven'd earth, <br>Graceful with hills and dales, and leafy woods, <br>Her liberal tresses, is thy force confined: <br>But, to the bowel'd cavern darting deep, <br>The mineral kinds confess thy mighty power. <br>Effulgent, hence the veiny marble shines; <br>Hence Labour draws his tools; hence burnish'd War <br>Gleams on the day; the nobler works of Peace <br>Hence bless mankind, and generous Commerce binds <br>The round of nations in a golden chain. <br>The unfruitful rock itself, impregn'd by thee, <br>In dark retirement forms the lucid stone. <br>The lively diamond drinks thy purest rays, <br>Collected light, compact; that, polish'd bright, <br>And all its native lustre let abroad, <br>Dares, as it sparkles on the fair-one's breast, <br>With vain ambition emulate her eyes. <br>At thee the ruby lights its deepening glow, <br>And with a waving radiance inward flames. <br>From thee the sapphire, solid ether, takes <br>Its hue cerulean; and, of evening tinct, <br>The purple-streaming amethyst is thine. <br>With thy own smile the yellow topaz burns. <br>Nor deeper verdure dyes the robe of Spring, <br>When first she gives it to the southern gale, <br>Than the green emerald shows. But, all combined, <br>Thick through the whitening opal play thy beams; <br>Or, flying several from its surface, form <br>A trembling variance of revolving hues, <br>As the site varies in the gazer's hand. <br>The very dead creation, from thy touch, <br>Assumes a mimic life. By thee refined, <br>In brighter mazes the relucent stream <br>Plays o'er the mead. The precipice abrupt, <br>Projecting horror on the blacken'd flood, <br>Softens at thy return. The desert joys, <br>Wildly, through all his melancholy bounds. <br>Rude ruins glitter; and the briny deep, <br>Seen from some pointed promontory's top, <br>Far to the blue horizon's utmost verge, <br>Restless, reflects a floating gleam. But this, <br>And all the much-transported Muse can sing, <br>Are to thy beauty, dignity, and use, <br>Unequal far; great delegated source <br>Of light, and life, and grace, and joy below! <br>How shall I then attempt to sing of Him! <br>Who, Light Himself, in uncreated light <br>Invested deep, dwells awfully retired <br>From mortal eye, or angel's purer ken; <br>Whose single smile has, from the first of time, <br>Fill'd, overflowing, all those lamps of Heaven, <br>That beam for ever through the boundless sky: <br>But, should he hide his face, the astonish'd sun, <br>And all the extinguish'd stars, would loosening reel <br>Wide from their spheres, and Chaos come again. <br>And yet was every faltering tongue of Man, <br>Almighty Father! silent in thy praise; <br>Thy Works themselves would raise a general voice, <br>E'en in the depth of solitary woods <br>By human foot untrod; proclaim thy power, <br>And to the quire celestial Thee resound, <br>The eternal cause, support, and end of all! <br>To me be Nature's volume broad display'd; <br>And to peruse its all instructing page, <br>Or, haply catching inspiration thence, <br>Some easy passage, raptured, to translate, <br>My sole delight; as through the falling glooms <br>Pensive I stray, or with the rising dawn <br>On Fancy's eagle-wing excursive soar. <br>Now, flaming up the heavens, the potent sun <br>Melts into limpid air the high-raised clouds, <br>And morning fogs, that hover'd round the hills <br>In party-colour'd bands; till wide unveil'd <br>The face of Nature shines, from where earth seems, <br>Far-stretch'd around, to meet the bending sphere. <br>Half in a blush of clustering roses lost, <br>Dew-dropping Coolness to the shade retires; <br>There, on the verdant turf, or flowery bed, <br>By gelid founts and careless rills to muse; <br>While tyrant Heat, dispreading through the sky, <br>With rapid sway, his burning influence darts <br>On man, and beast, and herb, and tepid stream. <br>Who can unpitying see the flowery race, <br>Shed by the morn, their new-flush'd bloom resign, <br>Before the parching beam? so fade the fair, <br>When fevers revel through their azure veins. <br>But one the lofty follower of the sun, <br>Sad when he sets, shuts up her yellow leaves, <br>Drooping all night; and, when he warm returns, <br>Points her enamour'd bosom to his ray. <br>Home, from his morning task, the swain retreats; <br>His flock before him stepping to the fold: <br>While the full-udder'd mother lows around <br>The cheerful cottage, then expecting food, <br>The food of innocence and health! the daw, <br>The rook, and magpie, to the grey-grown oaks <br>That the calm village in their verdant arms, <br>Sheltering, embrace, direct their lazy flight; <br>Where on the mingling boughs they sit embower'd, <br>All the hot noon, till cooler hours arise. <br>Faint, underneath, the household fowls convene; <br>And, in a corner of the buzzing shade, <br>The house-dog, with the vacant greyhound, lies, <br>Out-stretch'd, and sleepy. In his slumbers one <br>Attacks the nightly thief, and one exults <br>O'er hill and dale; till, waken'd by the wasp, <br>They starting snap. Nor shall the Muse disdain <br>To let the little noisy summer race <br>Live in her lay, and flutter through her song: <br>Not mean though simple; to the sun ally'd, <br>From him they draw their animating fire. <br>Waked by his warmer ray, the reptile young <br>Come wing'd abroad; by the light air upborne, <br>Lighter, and full of soul. From every chink <br>And secret corner, where they slept away <br>The wintry storms; or rising from their tombs, <br>To higher life; by myriads, forth at once, <br>Swarming they pour; of all the varied hues <br>Their beauty-beaming parent can disclose. <br>Ten thousand forms, ten thousand different tribes, <br>People the blaze. To sunny waters some <br>By fatal instinct fly; where on the pool <br>They, sportive, wheel: or, sailing down the stream, <br>Are snatch'd immediate by the quick-eyed trout, <br>Or darting salmon. Through the green-wood glade <br>Some love to stray; there lodged, amused, and fed, <br>In the fresh leaf. Luxurious, others make <br>The meads their choice, and visit every flower, <br>And every latent herb: for the sweet task, <br>To propagate their kinds, and where to wrap, <br>In what soft beds, their young yet undisclosed, <br>Employs their tender care. Some to the house, <br>The fold, and dairy, hungry bend their flight; <br>Sip round the pail, or taste the curdling cheese; <br>Oft, inadvertent, from the milky stream <br>They meet their fate; or, weltering in the bowl, <br>With powerless wings around them wrapt, expire. <br>But chief to heedless flies the window proves <br>A constant death; where, gloomily retired, <br>The villain spider lives, cunning, and fierce, <br>Mixture abhorr'd! amid a mangled heap <br>Of carcasses, in eager watch he sits, <br>O'erlooking all his waving snares around. <br>Near the dire cell the dreadless wanderer oft <br>Passes, as oft the russian shows his front; <br>The prey at last ensnared, he dreadful darts, <br>With rapid glide, along the leaning line; <br>And, fixing in the wretch his cruel fangs, <br>Strikes backward grimly pleased; the fluttering wing <br>And shriller sound declare extreme distress, <br>And ask the helping hospitable hand. <br>Resounds the living surface of the ground: <br>Nor undelightful is the ceaseless hum, <br>To him who muses through the woods at noon; <br>Or drowsy shepherd, as he lies reclined, <br>With half-shut eyes, beneath the floating shade <br>Of willows grey, close crowding o'er the brook. <br>Gradual, from these what numerous kinds descend, <br>Evading e'en the microscopic eye? <br>Full Nature swarms with life; one wondrous mass <br>Of animals, or atoms organized, <br>Waiting the vital breath, when parent Heaven <br>Shall bid his spirit blow. The hoary fen, <br>In putrid steams, emits the living cloud <br>Of pestilence. Through subterranean cells, <br>Where searching sunbeams scarce can find a way, <br>Earth animated heaves. The flowery leaf <br>Wants not its soft inhabitants. Secure, <br>Within its winding citadel, the stone <br>Holds multitudes. But chief the forest boughs, <br>That dance unnumber'd to the playful breeze, <br>The downy orchard, and the melting pulp <br>Of mellow fruit, the nameless nations feed <br>Of evanescent insects. Where the pool <br>Stands mantled o'er with green, invisible, <br>Amid the floating verdure millions stray. <br>Each liquid too, whether it pierces, soothes, <br>Inflames, refreshes, or exalts the taste, <br>With various forms abounds. Nor is the stream <br>Of purest crystal, nor the lucid air, <br>Though one transparent vacancy it seems, <br>Void of their unseen people. These, conceal'd <br>By the kind art of forming Heaven, escape <br>The grosser eye of man: for, if the worlds <br>In worlds inclosed should on his senses burst, <br>From cates ambrosial, and the nectar'd bowl, <br>He would abhorrent turn; and in dead night, <br>When silence sleeps o'er all, be stunn'd with noise. <br>Let no presuming impious railer tax <br>Creative Wisdom, as if ought was form'd <br>In vain, or not for admirable ends. <br>Shall little haughty Ignorance pronounce <br>His works unwise, of which the smallest part <br>Exceeds the narrow vision of her mind? <br>As if upon a full proportion'd dome, <br>On swelling columns heaved, the pride of art! <br>A critic fly, whose feeble ray scarce spreads <br>An inch around, with blind presumption bold, <br>Should dare to tax the structure of the whole. <br>And lives the man, whose universal eye <br>Has swept at once the unbounded scheme of things; <br>Mark'd their dependance so, and firm accord, <br>As with unfaltering accent to conclude <br>That this availeth nought? Has any seen <br>The mighty chain of beings, lessening down <br>From Infinite Perfection to the brink <br>Of dreary nothing, desolate abyss! <br>From which astonish'd thought, recoiling, turns? <br>Till then alone let zealous praise ascend, <br>And hymns of holy wonder, to that Power, <br>Whose wisdom shines as lovely on our minds, <br>As on our smiling eyes his servant-sun. <br>Thick in yon stream of light, a thousand ways, <br>Upward, and downward, thwarting, and convolved, <br>The quivering nations sport; till, tempest-wing'd, <br>Fierce Winter sweeps them from the face of day. <br>E'en so luxurious men, unheeding, pass <br>An idle summer life in fortune's shine, <br>A season's glitter! thus they flutter on <br>From toy to toy, from vanity to vice; <br>Till, blown away by death, oblivion comes <br>Behind, and strikes them from the book of life. <br>Now swarms the village o'er the jovial mead: <br>The rustic youth, brown with meridian toil, <br>Healthful and strong; full as the summer-rose <br>Blown by prevailing suns, the ruddy maid, <br>Half naked, swelling on the sight, and all <br>Her kindled graces burning o'er her cheek. <br>E'en stooping age is here; and infant hands <br>Trail the long rake, or, with the fragrant load <br>O'ercharged, amid the kind oppression roll. <br>Wide flies the tedded grain; all in a row <br>Advancing broad, or wheeling round the field, <br>They spread the breathing harvest to the sun, <br>That throws refreshful round a rural smell: <br>Or, as they rake the green-appearing ground, <br>And drive the dusky wave along the mead, <br>The russet hay-cock rises thick behind, <br>In order gay. While heard from dale to dale, <br>Waking the breeze, resounds the blended voice <br>Of happy labour, love, and social glee. <br>Or rushing thence, in one diffusive band, <br>They drive the troubled flocks, by many a dog <br>Compell'd, to where the mazy-running brook <br>Forms a deep pool; this bank abrupt and high, <br>And that fair-spreading in a pebbled shore. <br>Urged to the giddy brink, much is the toil, <br>The clamour much, of men, and boys, and dogs, <br>Ere the soft fearful people to the flood <br>Commit their woolly sides. And oft the swain, <br>On some impatient seizing, hurls them in: <br>Embolden'd then, nor hesitating more, <br>Fast, fast, they plunge amid the flashing wave, <br>And panting labour to the farthest shore. <br>Repeated this, till deep the well-wash'd fleece <br>Has drunk the flood, and from his lively haunt, <br>The trout is banish'd by the sordid stream; <br>Heavy, and dripping, to the breezy brow <br>Slow more the harmless race: where, as they spread <br>Their swelling treasures to the sunny ray, <br>Inly disturb'd, and wondering what this wild <br>Outrageous tumult means, their loud complaints <br>The country fill; and, toss'd from rock to rock, <br>Incessant bleatings run around the hills. <br>At last, of snowy white, the gather'd flocks <br>Are in the wattled pen innumerous press'd, <br>Head above head: and ranged in lusty rows <br>The shepherds sit, and whet the sounding shears. <br>The housewife waits to roll her fleecy stores, <br>With all her gay-drest maids attending round. <br>One, chief, in gracious dignity enthroned, <br>Shines o'er the rest, the pastoral queen, and rays <br>Her smiles, sweet-beaming, on her shepherd-king; <br>While the glad circle round them yield their souls <br>To festive mirth, and wit that knows no gall. <br>Meantime, their joyous task goes on apace: <br>Some mingling stir the melted tar, and some, <br>Deep on the new-shorn vagrant's heaving side, <br>To stamp the master's cypher ready stand; <br>Others the unwilling wether drag along; <br>And, glorying in his might, the sturdy boy <br>Holds by the twisted horns the indignant ram. <br>Behold where bound, and of its robe bereft, <br>By needy man, that all-depending lord, <br>How meek, how patient, the mild creature lies! <br>What softness in its melancholy face, <br>What dumb complaining innocence appears! <br>Fear not, ye gentle tribes, 'tis not the knife <br>Of horrid slaughter that is o'er you waved; <br>No, 'tis the tender swain's well-guided shears, <br>Who having now, to pay his annual care, <br>Borrow'd your fleece, to you a cumbrous load, <br>Will send you bounding to your hills again. <br>A simple scene! yet hence Britannia sees <br>Her solid grandeur rise: hence she commands <br>The exalted stores of every brighter clime, <br>The treasures of the Sun without his rage: <br>Hence, fervent all, with culture, toil, and arts, <br>Wide glows her land: her dreadful thunder hence <br>Rides o'er the waves sublime, and now, e'en now, <br>Impending hangs o'er Gallia's humbled coast; <br>Hence rules the circling deep, and awes the world. <br>'Tis raging noon; and, vertical, the sun <br>Darts on the head direct his forceful rays. <br>O'er heaven and earth, far as the ranging eye <br>Can sweep, a dazzling deluge reigns; and all <br>From pole to pole is undistinguish'd blaze. <br>In vain the sight, dejected, to the ground <br>Stoops for relief; thence hot-ascending steams <br>And keen reflection pain. Deep to the root <br>Of vegetation parch'd, the cleaving fields <br>And slippery lawn an arid hue disclose, <br>Blast Fancy's bloom, and wither e'en the soul. <br>Echo no more returns the cheerful sound <br>Of sharpening scythe: the mower sinking heaps <br>O'er him the humid hay, with flowers perfumed; <br>And scarce a chirping grasshopper is heard <br>Through the dumb mead. Distressful Nature pants. <br>The very streams look languid from afar; <br>Or, through the unshelter'd glade, impatient, seem <br>To hurl into the covert of the grove. <br>All-conquering Heat, oh intermit thy wrath! <br>And on my throbbing temples potent thus <br>Beam not so fierce! incessant still you flow, <br>And still another fervent flood succeeds, <br>Pour'd on the head profuse. In vain I sigh, <br>And restless turn, and look around for night; <br>Night is far off; and hotter hours approach. <br>Thrice happy he! who on the sunless side <br>Of a romantic mountain, forest-crown'd, <br>Beneath the whole collected shade reclines: <br>Or in the gelid caverns, woodbine-wrought, <br>And fresh bedew'd with ever-spouting streams, <br>Sits coolly calm; while all the world without, <br>Unsatisfied, and sick, tosses in noon. <br>Emblem instructive of the virtuous man, <br>Who keeps his temper'd mind serene and pure, <br>And every passion aptly harmonized, <br>Amid a jarring world with vice inflamed. <br>Welcome, ye shades! ye bowery thickets, hail! <br>Ye lofty pines! ye venerable oaks! <br>Ye ashes wild, resounding o'er the steep! <br>Delicious is your shelter to the soul, <br>As to the hunted hart the sallying spring, <br>Or stream full-flowing, that his swelling sides <br>Laves, as he floats along the herbaged brink. <br>Cool, through the nerves, your pleasing comfort glides; <br>The heart beats glad; the fresh-expanded eye <br>And ear resume their watch; the sinews knit; <br>And life shoots swift through all the lighten'd limbs. <br>Around the adjoining brook, that purls along <br>The vocal grove, now fretting o'er a rock, <br>Now scarcely moving through a reedy pool, <br>Now starting to a sudden stream, and now <br>Gently diffused into a limpid plain; <br>A various group the herds and flocks compose, <br>Rural confusion! on the grassy bank <br>Some ruminating lie; while others stand <br>Half in the flood, and often bending sip <br>The circling surface. In the middle droops <br>The strong laborious ox, of honest front, <br>Which incomposed he shakes; and from his sides <br>The troublous insects lashes with his tail, <br>Returning still. Amid his subjects safe, <br>Slumbers the monarch-swain; his careless arm <br>Thrown round his head, on downy moss sustain'd; <br>Here laid his scrip, with wholesome viands fill'd; <br>There, listening every noise, his watchful dog. <br>Light fly his slumbers, if perchance a flight <br>Of angry gad-flies fasten on the herd; <br>That startling scatters from the shallow brook, <br>In search of lavish stream. Tossing the foam, <br>They scorn the keeper's voice, and scour the plain, <br>Through all the bright severity of noon; <br>While, from their labouring breasts, a hollow moan <br>Proceeding, runs low-bellowing round the hills. <br>Oft in this season too the horse, provoked, <br>While his big sinews full of spirits swell, <br>Trembling with vigour, in the heat of blood, <br>Springs the high fence; and, o'er the field effused, <br>Darts on the gloomy flood, with steadfast eye, <br>And heart estranged to fear: his nervous chest, <br>Luxuriant, and erect, the seat of strength! <br>Bears down the opposing stream: quenchless his thirst; <br>He takes the river at redoubled draughts; <br>And with wide nostrils, snorting, skims the wave. <br>Still let me pierce into the midnight depth <br>Of yonder grove, of wildest largest growth: <br>That, forming high in air a woodland quire, <br>Nods o'er the mount beneath. At every step, <br>Solemn and slow, the shadows blacker fall, <br>And all is awful listening gloom around. <br>These are the haunts of Meditation, these <br>The scenes where ancient bards the inspiring breath, <br>Ecstatic, felt; and, from this world retired, <br>Conversed with angels, and immortal forms, <br>On gracious errands bent: to save the fall <br>Of virtue struggling on the brink of vice; <br>In waking whispers, and repeated dreams, <br>To hint pure thought, and warn the favour'd soul <br>For future trials fated to prepare; <br>To prompt the poet, who devoted gives <br>His muse to better themes; to soothe the pangs <br>Of dying worth, and from the patriot's breast <br>(Backward to mingle in detested war, <br>But foremost when engaged) to turn the death; <br>And numberless such offices of love, <br>Daily, and nightly, zealous to perform. <br>Shook sudden from the bosom of the sky, <br>A thousand shapes or glide athwart the dusk, <br>Or stalk majestic on. Deep-roused, I feel <br>A sacred terror, a severe delight, <br>Creep through my mortal frame; and thus, me-thinks, <br>A voice than human more, the abstracted ear <br>Of fancy strikes:—“Be not of us afraid, <br>Poor kindred man! thy fellow-creatures, we <br>From the same Parent-Power our beings drew, <br>The same our Lord, and laws, and great pursuit. <br>Once some of us, like thee, through stormy life, <br>Toil'd, tempest-beaten, ere we could attain <br>This holy calm, this harmony of mind, <br>Where purity and peace immingle charms. <br>Then fear not us; but with responsive song, <br>Amid these dim recesses, undisturb'd <br>By noisy folly and discordant vice, <br>Of Nature sing with us, and Nature's God. <br>Here frequent, at the visionary hour, <br>When musing midnight reigns or silent noon, <br>Angelic harps are in full concert heard, <br>And voices chanting from the wood-crown'd hill, <br>The deepening dale, or inmost sylvan glade: <br>A privilege bestow'd by us, alone, <br>On Contemplation, or the hallow'd ear <br>Of poet, swelling to seraphic strain.” <br>And art thou, Stanley, of that sacred band? <br>Alas, for us too soon! though raised above <br>The reach of human pain, above the flight <br>Of human joy; yet, with a mingled ray <br>Of sadly pleased remembrance, must thou feel <br>A mother's love, a mother's tender woe: <br>Who seeks thee still, in many a former scene; <br>Seeks thy fair form, thy lovely beaming eyes, <br>Thy pleasing converse, by gay lively sense <br>Inspired: where moral wisdom mildly shone, <br>Without the toil of art; and virtue glow'd, <br>In all her smiles, without forbidding pride. <br>But, O thou best of parents! wipe thy tears; <br>Or rather to Parental Nature pay <br>The tears of grateful joy, who for a while <br>Lent thee this younger self, this opening bloom <br>Of thy enlighten'd mind and gentle worth. <br>Believe the Muse: the wintry blast of death <br>Kills not the buds of virtue; no, they spread, <br>Beneath the heavenly beam of brighter suns, <br>Through endless ages, into higher powers. <br>Thus up the mount, in airy vision wrapt, <br>I stray, regardless whither; till the sound <br>Of a near fall of water every sense <br>Wakes from the charm of thought: swift-shrinking back, <br>I check my steps, and view the broken scene. <br>Smooth to the shelving brink a copious flood <br>Rolls fair, and placid; where collected all, <br>In one impetuous torrent, down the steep <br>It thundering shoots, and shakes the country round. <br>At first, an azure sheet, it rushes broad; <br>Then whitening by degrees, as prone it falls, <br>And from the loud-resounding rocks below <br>Dash'd in a cloud of foam, it sends aloft <br>A hoary mist, and forms a ceaseless shower. <br>Nor can the tortured wave here find repose: <br>But, raging still amid the shaggy rocks, <br>Now flashes o'er the scatter'd fragments, now <br>Aslant the hollow channel rapid darts; <br>And falling fast from gradual slope to slope, <br>With wild infracted course, and lessen'd roar, <br>It gains a safer bed, and steals, at last, <br>Along the mazes of the quiet vale. <br>Invited from the cliff, to whose dark brow <br>He clings, the steep-ascending eagle soars, <br>With upward pinions through the flood of day; <br>And, giving full his bosom to the blaze, <br>Gains on the sun; while all the tuneful race, <br>Smit by afflictive noon, disorder'd droop, <br>Deep in the thicket; or, from bower to bower <br>Responsive, force an interrupted strain. <br>The stock-dove only through the forest cooes, <br>Mournfully hoarse; oft ceasing from his plaint, <br>Short interval of weary woe! again <br>The sad idea of his murder'd mate, <br>Struck from his side by savage fowler's guile, <br>Across his fancy comes; and then resounds <br>A louder song of sorrow through the grove. <br>Beside the dewy border let me sit, <br>All in the freshness of the humid air: <br>There in that hollow'd rock, grotesque and wild, <br>An ample chair moss-lined, and over head <br>By flowering umbrage shaded; where the bee <br>Strays diligent, and with the extracted balm <br>Of fragrant woodbine loads his little thigh. <br>Now, while I taste the sweetness of the shade, <br>While Nature lies around deep-lull'd in noon, <br>Now come, bold Fancy, spread a daring flight, <br>And view the wonders of the torrid zone: <br>Climes unrelenting! with whose rage compared, <br>Yon blaze is feeble, and yon skies are cool. <br>See, how at once the bright effulgent sun, <br>Rising direct, swift chases from the sky <br>The short-lived twilight; and with ardent blaze <br>Looks gaily fierce through all the dazzling air: <br>He mounts his throne; but kind before him sends, <br>Issuing from out the portals of the morn, <br>The general breeze, to mitigate his fire, <br>And breathe refreshment on a fainting world. <br>Great are the scenes, with dreadful beauty crown'd <br>And barbarous wealth, that see, each circling year, <br>Returning suns and double seasons pass: <br>Rocks rich in gems, and mountains big with mines, <br>That on the high equator ridgy rise, <br>Whence many a bursting stream auriferous plays: <br>Majestic woods, of every vigorous green, <br>Stage above stage, high waving o'er the hills; <br>Or to the far horizon wide diffused, <br>A boundless deep immensity of shade. <br>Here lofty trees, to ancient song unknown, <br>The noble sons of potent heat and floods <br>Prone-rushing from the clouds, rear high to Heaven <br>Their thorny stems, and broad around them throw <br>Meridian gloom. Here, in eternal prime, <br>Unnumber'd fruits of keen delicious taste <br>And vital spirit, drink amid the cliffs, <br>And burning sands that bank the shrubby vales, <br>Redoubled day, yet in their rugged coats <br>A friendly juice to cool its rage contain. <br>Bear me, Pomona! to thy citron groves; <br>To where the lemon and the piercing lime, <br>With the deep orange, glowing through the green, <br>Their lighter glories blend. Lay me reclined <br>Beneath the spreading tamarind that shakes, <br>Fann'd by the breeze, its fever-cooling fruit. <br>Deep in the night the massy locust sheds, <br>Quench my hot limbs; or lead me through the maze, <br>Embowering endless, of the Indian fig; <br>Or thrown at gayer ease, on some fair brow, <br>Let me behold, by breezy murmurs cool'd, <br>Broad o'er my head the verdant cedar wave, <br>And high palmetos lift their graceful shade. <br>Or stretch'd amid these orchards of the sun, <br>Give me to drain the cocoa's milky bowl, <br>And from the palm to draw its freshening wine! <br>More bounteous far than all the frantic juice <br>Which Bacchus pours. Nor, on its slender twigs <br>Low-bending, be the full pomegranate scorn'd; <br>Nor, creeping through the woods, the gelid race <br>Of berries. Oft in humble station dwells <br>Unboastful worth, above fastidious pomp. <br>Witness, thou best Anana, thou the pride <br>Of vegetable life, beyond whate'er <br>The poets imaged in the golden age: <br>Quick let me strip thee of thy tufty coat, <br>Spread thy ambrosial stores, and feast with Jove! <br>From these the prospect varies. Plains immense <br>Lie stretch'd below, interminable meads, <br>And vast savannahs, where the wandering eye, <br>Unfix'd, is in a verdant ocean lost. <br>Another Flora there, of bolder hues, <br>And richer sweets, beyond our garden's pride, <br>Plays o'er the fields, and showers with sudden hand <br>Exuberant spring: for oft these valleys shift <br>Their green embroider'd robe to fiery brown, <br>And swift to green again, as scorching suns, <br>Or streaming dews and torrent rains, prevail. <br>Along these lonely regions, where, retired <br>From little scenes of art, great Nature dwells <br>In awful solitude, and nought is seen <br>But the wild herds that own no master's stall, <br>Prodigious rivers roll their fattening seas: <br>On whose luxuriant herbage, half-conceal'd, <br>Like a fallen cedar, far diffused his train, <br>Cased in green scales, the crocodile extends. <br>The flood disparts: behold! in plaited mail <br>Behemoth rears his head. Glanced from his side, <br>The darted steel in idle shivers flies: <br>He fearless walks the plain, or seeks the hills; <br>Where, as he crops his varied fare, the herds, <br>In widening circle round, forget their food, <br>And at the harmless stranger wondering gaze. <br>Peaceful, beneath primeval trees, that cast <br>Their ample shade o'er Niger's yellow stream, <br>And where the Ganges rolls his sacred wave; <br>Or mid the central depth of blackening woods, <br>High raised in solemn theatre around, <br>Leans the huge elephant: wisest of brutes! <br>O truly wise, with gentle might endow'd, <br>Though powerful, not destructive! here he sees <br>Revolving ages sweep the changeful earth, <br>And empires rise and fall; regardless he <br>Of what the never-resting race of men <br>Project: thrice happy! could he 'scape their guile, <br>Who mine, from cruel avarice, his steps; <br>Or with his towery grandeur swell their state, <br>The pride of kings! or else his strength pervert, <br>And bid him rage amid the mortal fray, <br>Astonish'd at the madness of mankind. <br>Wide o'er the winding umbrage of the floods, <br>Like vivid blossoms glowing from afar, <br>Thick swarm the brighter birds. For Nature's hand, <br>That with a sportive vanity has deck'd <br>The plumy nations, there her gayest hues <br>Profusely pours. But, if she bids them shine, <br>Array'd in all the beauteous beams of day, <br>Yet frugal still, she humbles them in song. <br>Nor envy we the gaudy robes they lent <br>Proud Montezuma's realm, whose legions cast <br>A boundless radiance waving on the sun, <br>While Philomel is ours; while in our shades, <br>Through the soft silence of the listening night, <br>The sober-suited songstress trills her lay. <br>But come, my Muse, the desert-barrier burst, <br>A wild expanse of lifeless sand and sky: <br>And, swifter than the toiling caravan, <br>Shoot o'er the vale of Sennar; ardent climb <br>The Nubian mountains, and the secret bounds <br>Of jealous Abyssinia boldly pierce. <br>Thou art no ruffian, who beneath the mask <br>Of social commerce comest to rob their wealth; <br>No holy fury thou, blaspheming Heaven, <br>With consecrated steel to stab their peace, <br>And through the land, yet red from civil wounds, <br>To spread the purple tyranny of Rome. <br>Thou, like the harmless bee, mayst freely range, <br>From mead to mead bright with exalted flowers, <br>From jasmine grove to grove mayst wander gay, <br>Through palmy shades and aromatic woods, <br>That grace the plains, invest the peopled hills, <br>And up the more than Alpine mountains wave. <br>There on the breezy summit, spreading fair, <br>For many a league; or on stupendous rocks, <br>That from the sun-redoubling valley lift, <br>Cool to the middle air, their lawny tops; <br>Where palaces, and fanes, and villas rise; <br>And gardens smile around, and cultured fields; <br>And fountains gush; and careless herds and flocks <br>Securely stray; a world within itself, <br>Disdaining all assault: there let me draw <br>Ethereal soul, there drink reviving gales, <br>Profusely breathing from the spicy groves, <br>And vales of fragrance; there at distance hear <br>The roaring floods, and cataracts, that sweep <br>From disembowel'd earth the virgin gold; <br>And o'er the varied landscape, restless, rove, <br>Fervent with life of every fairer kind: <br>A land of wonders! which the sun still eyes <br>With ray direct, as of the lovely realm <br>Enamour'd, and delighting there to dwell. <br>How changed the scene! in blazing height of noon, <br>The sun, oppress'd, is plunged in thickest gloom. <br>Still horror reigns, a dreary twilight round, <br>Of struggling night and day malignant mix'd. <br>For to the hot equator crowding fast, <br>Where, highly rarefied, the yielding air <br>Admits their stream, incessant vapours roll, <br>Amazing clouds on clouds continual heap'd; <br>Or whirl'd tempestuous by the gusty wind, <br>Or silent borne along, heavy, and slow, <br>With the big stores of steaming oceans charged. <br>Meantime, amid these upper seas, condensed <br>Around the cold aërial mountain's brow, <br>And by conflicting winds together dash'd, <br>The thunder holds his black tremendous throne; <br>From cloud to cloud the rending lightnings rage; <br>Till, in the furious elemental war <br>Dissolved, the whole precipitated mass <br>Unbroken floods and solid torrents pours. <br>The treasures these, hid from the bounded search <br>Of ancient knowledge; whence, with annual pomp, <br>Rich king of floods! o'erflows the swelling Nile. <br>From his two springs, in Gojam's sunny realm, <br>Pure-welling out, he through the lucid lake <br>Of fair Dambea rolls his infant stream. <br>There, by the naiads nursed, he sports away <br>His playful youth, amid the fragant isles, <br>That with unfading verdure smile around. <br>Ambitious, thence the manly river breaks; <br>And gathering many a flood, and copious fed <br>With all the mellow'd treasures of the sky, <br>Winds in progressive majesty along: <br>Through splendid kingdoms now devolves his maze, <br>Now wanders wild o'er solitary tracts <br>Of life-deserted sand; till, glad to quit <br>The joyless desert, down the Nubian rocks <br>From thundering steep to steep, he pours his urn, <br>And Egypt joys beneath the spreading wave. <br>His brother Niger too, and all the floods <br>In which the full-form'd maids of Afric lave <br>Their jetty limbs; and all that from the tract <br>Of woody mountains stretch'd through gorgeous <br>Fall on Cor'mandel's coast, or Malabar; <br>From Menam's orient stream, that nightly shines <br>With insect-lamps, to where Aurora sheds <br>On Indus' smiling banks the rosy shower: <br>All, at this bounteous season, ope their urns, <br>And pour untoiling harvest o'er the land. <br>Nor less thy world, Columbus, drinks, refresh'd, <br>The lavish moisture of the melting year. <br>Wide o'er his isles, the branching Oronoque <br>Rolls a brown deluge; and the native drives <br>To dwell aloft on life-sufficing trees, <br>At once his dome, his robe, his food, and arms. <br>Swell'd by a thousand streams, impetuous hurl'd <br>From all the roaring Andes, huge decends <br>The mighty Orellana. Scarce the Muse <br>Dares stretch her wing o'er this enormous mass <br>Of rushing water; scarce she dares attempt <br>The sea-like Plata; to whose dread expanse, <br>Continuous depth, and wondrous length of course, <br>Our floods are rills. With unabated force, <br>In silent dignity they sweep along, <br>And traverse realms unknown, and blooming wilds, <br>And fruitful deserts, worlds of solitude, <br>Where the sun smiles and seasons teem in vain, <br>Unseen and unenjoy'd. Forsaking these, <br>O'er peopled plains they fair-diffusive flow, <br>And many a nation feed, and circle safe, <br>In their soft bosom, many a happy isle; <br>The seat of blameless Pan, yet undisturb'd <br>By christian crimes and Europe's cruel sons. <br>Thus pouring on they proudly seek the deep, <br>Whose vanquish'd tide recoiling from the shock, <br>Yields to the liquid weight of half the globe; <br>And Ocean trembles for his green domain. <br>But what avails this wondrous waste of wealth? <br>This gay profusion of luxurious bliss? <br>This pomp of Nature? what their balmy meads, <br>Their powerful herbs, and Ceres void of pain? <br>By vagrant birds dispersed and wafting winds, <br>What their unplanted fruits? what the cool draughts, <br>The ambrosial food, rich gums, and spicy health, <br>Their forests yield? their toiling insects what? <br>Their silky pride, and vegetable robes? <br>Ah! what avail their fatal treasures, hid <br>Deep in the bowels of the pitying earth, <br>Golconda's gems, and sad Potosi's mines; <br>Where dwelt the gentlest children of the sun? <br>What all that Afric's golden rivers roll, <br>Her odorous woods, and shining ivory stores? <br>Ill-fated race! the softening arts of Peace, <br>Whate'er the humanizing Muses teach; <br>The godlike wisdom of the temper'd breast; <br>Progressive truth, the patient force of thought; <br>Investigation calm, whose silent powers <br>Command the world; the light that leads to Heaven; <br>Kind equal rule, the goverment of laws, <br>And all-protecting Freedom, which alone <br>Sustains the name and dignity of man: <br>These are not theirs. The parent sun himself <br>Seems o'er this world of slaves to tyrannize; <br>And, with oppressive ray, the roseate bloom <br>Of beauty blasting, gives the gloomy hue, <br>And feature gross: or worse, to ruthless deeds, <br>Mad jealousy, blind rage, and fell revenge, <br>Their fervid spirit fires. Love dwells not there, <br>The soft regards, the tenderness of life, <br>The heart-shed tear, the ineffable delight <br>Of sweet humanity: these court the beam <br>Of milder climes; in selfish fierce desire, <br>And the wild fury of voluptuous sense, <br>There lost. The very brute-creation there <br>This rage partakes, and burns with horrid fire. <br>Lo! the green serpent, from his dark abode, <br>Which even Imagination fears to tread, <br>At noon forth-issuing, gathers up his train <br>In orbs immense, then, darting out anew, <br>Seeks the refreshing fount; by which diffused, <br>He throws his folds: and while, with threatening tongue <br>And deathful jaws erect, the monster curls <br>His flaming crest, all other thirst appall'd, <br>Or shivering flies or check'd at distance stands, <br>Nor dares approach. But still more direful he, <br>The small close-lurking minister of fate, <br>Whose high-concocted venom through the veins <br>A rapid lightning darts, arresting swift <br>The vital current. Form'd to humble man, <br>This child of vengeful Nature! there, sublimed <br>To fearless lust of blood, the savage race <br>Roam, licensed by the shading hour of guilt, <br>And foul misdeed, when the pure day has shut <br>His sacred eye. The tiger darting fierce <br>Impetuous on the prey his glance has doom'd: <br>The lively shining leopard, speckled o'er <br>With many a spot, the beauty of the waste; <br>And, scorning all the taming arts of man, <br>The keen hyena, fellest of the fell. <br>These, rushing from the inhospitable woods <br>Of Mauritania, or the tufted isles, <br>That verdant rise amid the Libyan wild, <br>Innumerous glare around their shaggy king, <br>Majestic, stalking o'er the printed sand; <br>And, with imperious and repeated roars, <br>Demand their fated food. The fearful flocks <br>Crowd near the guardian swain; the nobler herds, <br>Where round their lordly bull, in rural ease <br>They ruminating lie, with horror hear <br>The coming rage. The awaken'd village starts; <br>And to her fluttering breast the mother strains <br>Her thoughtless infant. From the pyrate's den, <br>Or stern Morocco's tyrant fang escaped, <br>The wretch half wishes for his bonds again: <br>While, uproar all, the wilderness resounds, <br>From Atlas eastward to the frighted Nile. <br>Unhappy he! who from the first of joys, <br>Society, cut off, is left alone <br>Amid this world of death. Day after day, <br>Sad on the jutting eminence he sits, <br>And views the main that ever toils below; <br>Still fondly forming in the farthest verge, <br>Where the round ether mixes with the wave, <br>Ships, dim-discover'd dropping from the clouds; <br>At evening, to the setting sun he turns <br>A mournful eye, and down his dying heart <br>Sinks helpless; while the wonted roar is up, <br>And hiss continual through the tedious night. <br>Yet here, e'en here, into these black abodes <br>Of monsters, unappall'd, from stooping Rome, <br>And guilty Cæsar, Liberty retired, <br>Her Cato following through Numidian wilds: <br>Disdainful of Campania's gentle plains, <br>And all the green delights Ausonia pours; <br>When for them she must bend the servile knee, <br>And fawning take the splendid robber's boon. <br>Nor stop the terrors of these regions here. <br>Commission'd demons oft, angels of wrath, <br>Let loose the raging elements. Breathed hot <br>From all the boundless furnace of the sky, <br>And the wide glittering waste of burning sand, <br>A suffocating wind the pilgrim smites <br>With instant death. Patient of thirst and toil, <br>Son of the desert! e'en the camel feels, <br>Shot through his wither'd heart, the fiery blast. <br>Or from the black-red ether, bursting broad, <br>Sallies the sudden whirlwind. Straight the sands, <br>Commoved around, in gathering eddies play: <br>Nearer and nearer still they darkening come; <br>Till, with the general all-involving storm <br>Swept up, the whole continuous wilds arise; <br>And by their noonday fount dejected thrown, <br>Or sunk at night in sad disastrous sleep, <br>Beneath descending hills, the caravan <br>Is buried deep. In Cairo's crowded streets <br>The impatient merchant, wondering, waits in vain, <br>And Mecca saddens at the long delay. <br>But chief at sea, whose every flexile wave <br>Obeys the blast, the aërial tumult swells. <br>In the dread ocean, undulating wide, <br>Beneath the radiant line that girts the globe, <br>The circling Typhon, whirl'd from point to point, <br>Exhausting all the rage of all the sky, <br>And dire Ecnephia reign. Amid the heavens, <br>Falsely serene, deep in a cloudy speck <br>Compress'd, the mighty tempest brooding dwells: <br>Of no regard, save to the skilful eye, <br>Fiery and foul, the small prognostic hangs <br>Aloft, or on the promontory's brow <br>Musters its force. A faint deceitful calm, <br>A fluttering gale, the demon sends before, <br>To tempt the spreading sail. Then down at once, <br>Precipitant, descends a mingled mass <br>Of roaring winds, and flame, and rushing floods. <br>In wild amazement fix'd the sailor stands. <br>Art is too slow: by rapid fate oppress'd, <br>His broad-winged vessel drinks the whelming tide, <br>Hid in the bosom of the black abyss. <br>With such mad seas the daring Gama fought, <br>For many a day, and many a dreadful night, <br>Incessant, labouring round the stormy Cape; <br>By bold ambition led, and bolder thirst <br>Of gold. For then from ancient gloom emerged <br>The rising world of trade: the Genius, then, <br>Of navigation, that, in hopeless sloth, <br>Had slumber'd on the vast Atlantic deep, <br>For idle ages, starting, heard at last <br>The Lusitanian Prince; who, Heaven-inspired, <br>To love of useful glory roused mankind, <br>And in unbounded commerce mix'd the world. <br>Increasing still the terrors of these storms, <br>His jaws horrific arm'd with threefold fate, <br>Here dwells the direful shark. Lured by the scent <br>Of steaming crowds, of rank disease, and death, <br>Behold! he rushing cuts the briny flood, <br>Swift as the gale can bear the ship along; <br>And, from the partners of that cruel trade, <br>Which spoils unhappy Guinea of her sons, <br>Demands his share of prey; demands themselves. <br>The stormy fates descend: one death involves <br>Tyrants and slaves; when straight, their mangled limbs <br>Crashing at once, he dyes the purple seas <br>With gore, and riots in the vengeful meal. <br>When o'er this world, by equinoctial rains <br>Flooded immense, looks out the joyless sun, <br>And draws the copious stream: from swampy fens, <br>Where putrefaction into life ferments, <br>And breathes destructive myriads; or from woods, <br>Impenetrable shades, recesses foul, <br>In vapours rank and blue corruption wrapt, <br>Whose gloomy horrors yet no desperate foot <br>Has ever dared to pierce; then, wasteful, forth <br>Walks the dire Power of pestilent disease. <br>A thousand hideous fiends her course attend, <br>Sick Nature blasting, and to heartless woe, <br>And feeble desolation, casting down <br>The towering hopes and all the pride of Man. <br>Such as, of late, at Carthagena quench'd <br>The British fire. You, gallant Vernon, saw <br>The miserable scene; you, pitying, saw <br>To infant-weakness sunk the warrior's arm; <br>Saw the deep-racking pang, the ghastly form, <br>The lip pale quivering, and the beamless eye <br>No more with ardour bright: you heard the groans <br>Of agonizing ships, from shore to shore; <br>Heard, nightly plunged amid the sullen waves, <br>The frequent corse; while on each other fix'd, <br>In sad presage, the blank assistants seem'd, <br>Silent, to ask, whom Fate would next demand. <br>What need I mention those inclement skies, <br>Where, frequent o'er the sickening city, Plague, <br>The fiercest child of Nemesis divine, <br>Descends? From Ethiopia's poison'd woods, <br>From stifled Cairo's filth, and fetid fields <br>With locust-armies putrefying heap'd, <br>This great destroyer sprung. Her awful rage <br>The brutes escape: Man is her destined prey, <br>Intemperate Man! and, o'er his guilty domes, <br>She draws a close incumbent cloud of death; <br>Uninterrupted by the living winds, <br>Forbid to blow a wholesome breeze; and stain'd <br>With many a mixture by the sun, suffused, <br>Of angry aspect. Princely wisdom, then, <br>Dejects his watchful eye; and from the hand <br>Of feeble justice, ineffectual, drop <br>The sword and balance: mute the voice of joy, <br>And hush'd the clamour of the busy world. <br>Empty the streets, with uncouth verdure clad; <br>Into the worst of deserts sudden turn'd <br>The cheerful haunt of men: unless escaped <br>From the doom'd house, where matchless horror reigns, <br>Shut up by barbarous fear, the smitten wretch, <br>With frenzy wild, breaks loose; and, loud to Heaven <br>Screaming, the dreadful policy arraigns, <br>Inhuman, and unwise. The sullen door, <br>Yet uninfected, on its cautious hinge <br>Fearing to turn, abhors society: <br>Dependants, friends, relations, Love himself, <br>Savaged by woe, forget the tender tie, <br>The sweet engagement of the feeling heart. <br>But vain their selfish care: the circling sky, <br>The wide enlivening air is full of fate; <br>And, struck by turns, in solitary pangs <br>They fall, unblest, untended, and unmourn'd. <br>Thus o'er the prostrate city black Despair <br>Extends her raven wing: while, to complete <br>The scene of desolation, stretch'd around, <br>The grim guards stand, denying all retreat, <br>And give the flying wretch a better death. <br>Much yet remains unsung: the rage intense <br>Of brazen-vaulted skies, of iron fields, <br>Where drought and famine starve the blasted year: <br>Fired by the torch of noon to tenfold rage, <br>The infuriate hill that shoots the pillar'd flame; <br>And, roused within the subterranean world, <br>The expanding earthquake, that resistless shakes <br>Aspiring cities from their solid base, <br>And buries mountains in the flaming gulf. <br>But 'tis enough; return, my vagrant Muse: <br>A nearer scene of horror calls thee home. <br>Behold, slow-settling o'er the lurid grove <br>Unusual darkness broods; and growing gains <br>The full possession of the sky, surcharged <br>With wrathful vapour, from the secret beds, <br>Where sleep the mineral generations, drawn. <br>Thence nitre, sulphur, and the fiery spume <br>Of fat bitumen, steaming on the day, <br>With various-tinctured trains of latent flame, <br>Pollute the sky, and in yon baleful cloud, <br>A reddening gloom, a magazine of fate, <br>Ferment; till, by the touch ethereal roused, <br>The dash of clouds, or irritating war <br>Of fighting winds, while all is calm below, <br>They furious spring. A boding silence reigns, <br>Dread through the dun expanse; save the dull sound <br>That from the mountain, previous to the storm, <br>Rolls o'er the muttering earth, disturbs the flood, <br>And shakes the forest-leaf without a breath. <br>Prone, to the lowest vale, the aërial tribes <br>Descend: the tempest-loving raven scarce <br>Dares wing the dubious dusk. In rueful gaze <br>The cattle stand, and on the scowling heavens <br>Cast a deploring eye; by man forsook, <br>Who to the crowded cottage hies him fast, <br>Or seeks the shelter of the downward cave. <br>'Tis listening fear, and dumb amazement all: <br>When to the startled eye the sudden glance <br>Appears far south, eruptive through the cloud; <br>And following slower, in explosion vast, <br>The Thunder raises his tremendous voice. <br>At first, heard solemn o'er the verge of Heaven, <br>The tempest growls; but as it nearer comes, <br>And rolls its awful burden on the wind, <br>The lightnings flash a larger curve, and more <br>The noise astounds: till over head a sheet <br>Of livid flame discloses wide; then shuts, <br>And opens wider; shuts and opens still <br>Expansive, wrapping ether in a blaze. <br>Follows the loosen'd aggravated roar, <br>Enlarging, deepening, mingling; peal on peal <br>Crush'd horrible, convulsing heaven and earth. <br>Down comes a deluge of sonorous hail, <br>Or prone-descending rain. Wide-rent, the clouds <br>Pour a whole flood; and yet, its flame unquench'd, <br>The unconquerable lightning struggles through, <br>Ragged and fierce, or in red whirling balls, <br>And fires the mountains with redoubled rage. <br>Black from the stroke, above, the smouldring pine <br>Stands a sad shatter'd trunk; and, stretch'd below, <br>A lifeless group the blasted cattle lie: <br>Here the soft flocks, with that same harmless look <br>They wore alive, and ruminating still <br>In fancy's eye; and there the frowning bull, <br>And ox half-raised. Struck on the castled cliff, <br>The venerable tower and spiry fane <br>Resign their aged pride. The gloomy woods <br>Start at the flash, and from their deep recess, <br>Wide-flaming out, their trembling inmates shake. <br>Amid Carnarvon's mountains rages loud <br>The repercussive roar: with mighty crush, <br>Into the flashing deep, from the rude rocks <br>Of Penmanmaur heap'd hideous to the sky, <br>Tumble the smitten cliffs; and Snowden's peak, <br>Dissolving, instant yields his wintry load. <br>Far seen, the heights of heathy Cheviot blaze, <br>And Thulè bellows through her utmost isles. <br>Guilt hears appall'd, with deeply troubled thought. <br>And yet not always on the guilty head <br>Descends the fated flash. Young Celadon <br>And his Amelia were a matchless pair; <br>With equal virtue form'd, and equal grace, <br>The same, distinguish'd by their sex alone: <br>Hers the mild lustre of the blooming morn, <br>And his the radiance of the risen day. <br>They lov'd: but such the guileless passion was, <br>As in the dawn of time inform'd the heart <br>Of innocence and undissembling truth. <br>'Twas friendship, heighten'd by the mutual wish; <br>The enchanting hope, and sympathetic glow, <br>Beam'd from the mutual eye. Devoting all <br>To love, each was to each a dearer self; <br>Supremely happy in the awaken'd power <br>Of giving joy. Alone, amid the shades, <br>Still in harmonious intercourse they lived <br>The rural day, and talk'd the flowing heart, <br>Or sigh'd and look'd unutterable things. <br>So pass'd their life, a clear united stream, <br>By care unruffled; till, in evil hour, <br>The tempest caught them on the tender walk, <br>Heedless how far and where its mazes stray'd, <br>While, with each other blest, creative love <br>Still bade eternal Eden smile around. <br>Presaging instant fate, her bosom heaved <br>Unwonted sighs, and stealing oft a look <br>Of the big gloom, on Celadon her eye <br>Fell tearful, wetting her disorder'd cheek. <br>In vain assuring love, and confidence <br>In Heaven, repress'd her fear; it grew, and shook <br>Her frame near dissolution. He perceived <br>The unequal conflict, and as angels look <br>On dying saints, his eyes compassion shed, <br>With love illumined high. “Fear not,” he said, <br>“Sweet innocence! thou stranger to offence, <br>And inward storm! He, who yon skies involves <br>In frowns of darkness, ever smiles on thee <br>With kind regard. O'er thee the secret shaft <br>That wastes at midnight, or the undreaded hour <br>Of noon, flies harmless: and that very voice, <br>Which thunders terror through the guilty heart, <br>With tongues of seraphs whispers peace to thine. <br>'Tis safety to be near thee sure, and thus <br>To clasp perfection!” From his void embrace, <br>(Mysterious Heaven!) that moment, to the ground, <br>A blacken'd corse, was struck the beauteous maid. <br>But who can paint the lover, as he stood, <br>Pierced by severe amazement, hating life, <br>Speechless, and fix'd in all the death of woe! <br>So, faint resemblance! on the marble tomb, <br>The well-dissembled mourner stooping stands, <br>For ever silent and for ever sad. <br>As from the face of Heaven the shatter'd clouds <br>Tumultuous rove, the interminable sky <br>Sublimer swells, and o'er the world expands <br>A purer azure. Through the lighten'd air <br>A higher lustre and a clearer calm, <br>Diffusive, tremble; while, as if in sign <br>Of danger past, a glittering robe of joy, <br>Set off abundant by the yellow ray, <br>Invests the fields; and nature smiles revived. <br>'Tis beauty all, and grateful song around, <br>Join'd to the low of kine, and numerous bleat <br>Of flocks thick-nibbling through the clover'd vale. <br>And shall the hymn be marr'd by thankless Man, <br>Most-favour'd! who with voice articulate <br>Should lead the chorus of this lower world; <br>Shall he, so soon forgetful of the Hand <br>That hush'd the thunder, and serenes the sky, <br>Extinguish'd feel that spark the tempest waked, <br>That sense of powers exceeding far his own, <br>Ere yet his feeble heart has lost its fears? <br>Cheer'd by the milder beam, the sprightly youth <br>Speeds to the well-known pool, whose crystal depth <br>A sandy bottom shows. Awhile he stands <br>Gazing the inverted landscape, half afraid <br>To meditate the blue profound below; <br>Then plunges headlong down the circling flood. <br>His ebon tresses, and his rosy cheek <br>Instant emerge; and through the obedient wave, <br>At each short breathing by his lip repell'd, <br>With arms and legs according well, he makes, <br>As humour leads, an easy-winding path; <br>While, from his polish'd sides, a dewy light <br>Effuses on the pleased spectators round. <br>This is the purest exercise of health, <br>The kind refresher of the summer-heats; <br>Nor when cold Winter keens the brightening flood, <br>Would I weak-shivering linger on the brink. <br>Thus life redoubles, and is oft preserved, <br>By the bold swimmer, in the swift elapse <br>Of accident disastrous. Hence the limbs <br>Knit into force; and the same Roman arm, <br>That rose victorious o'er the conquer'd earth, <br>First learn'd, while tender, to subdue the wave. <br>Even from the body's purity the mind <br>Receives a secret sympathetic aid. <br>Close in the covert of a hazel copse, <br>Where, winded into pleasing solitudes, <br>Runs out the rambling dale, young Damon sat, <br>Pensive, and pierced with love's delightful pangs. <br>There to the stream that down the distant rocks <br>Hoarse-murmuring fell, and plaintive breeze that play'd <br>Among the bending willows, falsely he <br>Of Musidora's cruelty complain'd. <br>She felt his flame; but deep within her breast <br>In bashful coyness, or in maiden pride, <br>The soft return conceal'd; save when it stole <br>In sidelong glances from her downcast eye, <br>Or from her swelling soul in stifled sighs. <br>Touch'd by the scene, no stranger to his vows, <br>He framed a melting lay, to try her heart; <br>And, if an infant passion struggled there, <br>To call that passion forth. Thrice happy swain! <br>A lucky chance, that oft decides the fate <br>Of mighty monarchs, then decided thine. <br>For lo! conducted by the laughing Loves, <br>This cool retreat his Musidora sought: <br>Warm in her cheek the sultry season glow'd; <br>And, robed in loose array, she came to bathe <br>Her fervent limbs in the refreshing stream. <br>What shall he do? In sweet confusion lost, <br>And dubious flutterings, he a while remain'd: <br>A pure ingenuous elegance of soul, <br>A delicate refinement, known to few, <br>Perplex'd his breast, and urged him to retire: <br>But love forbade. Ye prudes in virtue, say, <br>Say, ye severest, what would you have done? <br>Meantime, this fairer nymph than ever blest <br>Arcadian stream, with timid eye around <br>The banks surveying, stripp'd her beauteous limbs, <br>To taste the lucid coolness of the flood. <br>Ah then! not Paris on the piny top <br>Of Ida panted stronger, when aside <br>The rival-goddesses the veil divine <br>Cast unconfined, and gave him all their charms, <br>Than, Damon, thou; as from the snowy leg, <br>And slender foot, the inverted silk she drew; <br>As the soft touch dissolved the virgin zone: <br>And, through the parting robe, the alternate breast, <br>With youth wild-throbbing, on thy lawless gaze <br>In full luxuriance rose. But, desperate youth, <br>How durst thou risk the soul-distracting view, <br>As from her naked limbs of glowing white, <br>Harmonious swell'd by Nature's finest hand, <br>In folds loose floating fell the fainter lawn; <br>And fair exposed she stood, shrunk from herself, <br>With fancy blushing, at the doubtful breeze <br>Alarm'd, and starting like the fearful fawn? <br>Then to the flood she rush'd; the parted flood <br>Its lovely guest with closing waves received; <br>And every beauty</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=James+Thomson">James Thomson</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=416335" data-title="The Four Seasons : Summer de James Thomson" data-description="From brightening fields of ether fair disclosed, Child of the Sun, refulgent Summer comes, In pride of youth, and felt through Nature's depth: He comes attended by the sultry Hours, And ever fanning breezes, on his way; While, from his ardent..."></div> </div> </div>

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