Those in the deeper vitals rage:
Lo! Poverty, to fill the band,
That numbs the soul with icy hand,
And slow-consuming Age.
To each his sufferings; all are men,
Condemned alike to groan,
The tender for another's pain,
The unfeeling for his own.
Yet, ah! why should they know their fate,
Since sorrow never comes too late,
And happiness too swiftly flies?
Thought would destroy their paradise:
No more ;-where ignorance is bliss
'Tis folly to be wise.
I. FOR THE ENTRANCE TO A WOOD.1
STRANGER, if thou hast learned a truth which needs
No school of long experience, that the world
Is full of guilt and misery; and hast known
Enough of all its sorrows, crimes, and cares,
To tire thee of it-enter this wild wood
And view the haunts of Nature. The calm shade
Shall bring a kindred calm, and the sweet breeze
That makes the green leaves dance, shall waft a balm
To thy sick heart. Thou wilt find nothing here
Of all that pained thee in the haunts of men
And made thee loathe their life. The primal curse
Fell, it is true, upon the unsinning earth,
But not in vengeance. God hath yoked to guilt2
Her pale tormentor, misery. Hence,3 these shades
1 An inscription should be simple, short, and eminently suggestive. given above is simple and suggestive, but its length is somewhat inconsistent with the imaginary purpose for which such a composition is written, and yet we could hardly wish to lose any part of what is so graceful and beautiful.
2 To guilt-i.e. to guilt only. The inseparable connection between guilt
and misery is vividly denoted by the imagery of the text.
3 Hence-i.e. because guilt haunts not these shades, they are still, &c.
Are still the abodes of gladness; the thick roof
Of green and stirring branches is alive
And musical with birds, that sing and sport
In wantonness of spirit; while below,
The squirrel, with raised paws and form erect,
Chirps merrily. Throngs of insects in the shade1
Try their thin wings, and dance in the warm beam
That waked them into life. Even the green trees
Partake the deep contentment; as they bend
To the soft winds, the sun from the blue sky
Looks in, and sheds a blessing on the scene.
Scarce less the cleft-born2 wild-flower seems to enjoy
Existence, than the winged plunderer
That sucks its sweets. The massy rocks themselves,
And the old and ponderous trunks of prostrate trees,
That lead from knoll3 to knoll a causey rude,
Or bridge the sunken brook, and their dark roots
With all their earth upon them twisting high,
Breathe fixed tranquillity. The rivulet
Sends forth glad sounds, and tripping o'er its bed
Of pebbly sands, or leaping down the rocks,
Seems, with continuous laughter, to rejoice
In its own being. Softly tread the marge,
Lest from her midway perch thou scare the wren
That dips her bill in water. The cool wind,
That stirs the stream in play, shall come to thee,
Like one that loves thee, nor will let thee pass
Ungreeted, and shall give its light embrace.
II. FOR A COLUMN AT TRUXILLO.5
PIZARRO here was born: a greater name
The list of glory boasts not. Toil and pain,
Famine and hostile elements, and hosts
Embattled, failed to check him in his course ;
Shade-i.e. not among the branches, but below; a somewhat unfortunate word, since if taken strictly it contradicts the next line.
2 Cleft-born-springing from a cleft, or fissure in the rock.
3 Knoll-from the Anglo-Saxon cnolle, a head or top-a little round hill.
4 Causey or causeway-from the French chaussée, which is from the Latin cala, limestone or chalk-a raised paved way, made of chalk-stones or other consolidated substance.
5 A town of Estremadura, in Spain. The solemn and impressive voice of truth speaks through these lines.
Not to be wearied, not to be deterred,
Not to be overcome. A mighty realm
He overran, and with relentless arm
Slew or enslaved its unoffending sons,
And wealth, and power, and fame, were his rewards.
There is another world beyond the grave,
According to their deeds where men are judged.
O reader! if thy daily bread be earned
By daily labour-yea, however low,
However wretched be thy lot assigned,
Thank thou, with deepest gratitude, the God
Who made thee, that thou art not such as he.
III. FOR A COLUMN AT RUNNYMEAD.1
THOU who the verdant plain dost traverse here,
While Thames among his willows from thy view
Retires, O stranger, stay thou, and the scene
Around contemplate well. This is the place
Where England's ancient barons, clad in arms,
And stern with conquest, from their tyrant king—
Then rendered tame-did challenge and secure
The charter of thy freedom. Pass not on
Till thou hast blest their memory, and paid
Those thanks which God appointed the reward
Of public virtue. And if chance thy home
Salute thee with a father's honoured name,
Go call thy sons, instruct them what a debt
They owe their ancestors, and make them swear
To pay it, by transmitting down entire
Those sacred rights to which themselves were born.
IV. FOR A FOUNTAIN ON A HEATH.2
THIS Sycamore, oft musical with bees
Such tents the patriarchs loved!—oh long unharmed
May all its aged boughs o'er-canopy
The small round basin, which this jutting stone
Keeps pure from falling leaves! Long may this spring,
Quietly as a sleeping infant's breath,
The pure, classical, and severely simple tone of these lines is admirable.
2 This inscription compared with the last is as a painting to a statue-it has colour as well as form; but both are very beautiful.
Send up cold waters to the traveller
With soft and even pulse! Nor ever cease
Yon tiny cone of sand1 its soundless dance,
Which at the bottom, like a fairy's page,
As merry and no taller, dances still,
Nor wrinkles the smooth surface of the fount.
Here twilight is and coolness; here is moss,
A soft seat, and a deep and ample shade;
Thou may'st toil far and find no second tree.
Drink, pilgrim, here; here rest! and if thy heart
Be innocent, here too shalt thou refresh
Thy spirit, listening to some gentle sound,
Or passing gale, or hum of murmuring bees!
V. FOR A STATUE OF CHAUCER AT WOODSTOCK.
SUCH was old Chaucer, such the placid mien
Of him who first with harmony informed2
The language of our fathers. Here he dwelt
For many a cheerful day. These ancient walls
Have often heard him while his legends blithe
He sang of love or knighthood, or the wiles
Of homely life, through each estate and age,
The fashions and the follies of the world
With cunning hand pourtraying. Though perchance
From Blenheim's towers, O stranger! thou art come
Glowing with Churchill's3 trophies, yet in vain
Dost thou applaud them, if thy breast be cold
To him this other hero, who, in times
Dark and untaught began with charming verse
To tame the rudeness of his native land.
VI. FOR A NATURAL GROTTO NEAR A DEEP STREAM.
HEALTH, rose-lipped cherub, haunts this spot :-
She slumbers oft in yonder nook;
If in the shade you trace her not,
Plunge and you'll find her in the brook!
The reference to this minute and characteristic circumstance shows that the picture was drawn from close observation of nature.
Informed-from the Latin informare, to give form to any thing-to mould,
shape, animate; it is much used in this sense by our older writers.
3 Churchill--the family name of the Duke of Marlborough.
VII. FOR A NATURAL SPRING.
Here quench your thirst and mark in me,
An emblem of true charity;
Who, while my bounty I bestow
Am neither heard nor seen to flow.
PHILOSOPHY, the great and only heir
Of all that human knowledge which has been
Unforfeited by man's rebellious sin,
Though full of years he do appear,
Has still been kept in nonage till of late,
Nor managed or enjoyed his vast estate :
Instead of carrying him to see
The riches which do hoarded for him lie
In nature's endless treasury,
They chose his eye to entertain
With painted scenes, and pageants of the brain.2
BACON at last, a mighty man! arose,
Whom a wise kings and nature chose
Lord Chancellor of both their laws,
And boldly undertook the injured pupil's+ cause.
Authority, which did a body boast,
Though 'twas but air condensed, and stalked about
Like some old giant's more gigantic ghost,
To terrify the learned rout,
1 Lord Bacon flourished just before Cowley's time.
These lines are extracted from a poem of Cowley's, addressed "To the Royal Society."
2 One of the main principles of Lord Bacon's philosophy was, that science ought to be based on the firm ground of experiment, and not, as had been too much the case previously, on fanciful surmises and conjectures.
4 Injured pupil, &c.-i.e. Philosophy who was before spoken of as wrongfully kept in nonage. A pupil-from the Latin pupillus, a child-is one under guardianship, a ward.
5 Rout-from the Latin rota, a wheel, or circle-a circle or body of men; used here, and in the early writers, in a grave sense.
|