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So Shakspeare's page, the flow'r of poesy,
Ere Garrick rose, had charms for ev'ry eye:
'T was Nature's genuine image wild and grand,
The strong mark'd picture of a master's hand.
But when his Garrick, Nature's Pallas, came,
The bard's bold painting burst into a flame :
Each part new force and vital warmth receiv'd,
As touch'd by Heav'n-and all the picture liv'd.

SYR MARTYN:

A POEM, IN THE MANNER of spenser.

ADVERTISEMENT.

THIS attempt in the manner of Spenser was first published in 1767, since which time it has passed through some editions under the title of The Concubine; a title which, it must be confessed, conveyed a very improper idea both of the subject and spirit of the poem. It is now more properly entitled Syr Martyn, and the author is happy to find that the public approbation of the work has given him an opportunity to alter its name so much to advantage.

The first publication was not accompanied with any prefatory address, by which either the intention of the writer might be explained, or the candour of the reader solicited. To solicit candour for the poetical execution he still declines, for taste is not to be bribed; but perhaps justice to himself may require some explanation of his design, and some apology for his use of the manner of Spenser.

It is an established maxim in criticism, that an interesting moral is essential to a good poem. The character of the man of fortune is of the utmost importance both in the political and moral world: to throw, therefore, a just ridicule on the pursuits and pleasures which often prove fatal to the important virtues of the gentleman, must afford an interesting moral, but it is the management of the writer which alone must render it striking. Yet however he may have failed in attaining this, the author may decently assert, that to paint false pleasure as it is, ridiculous and contemptible, alike destructive to virtue and to happiness, was, at least, the purpose of his poem.

It is also an established maxim in criticism, that the subject of a poem should be one; that every part should contribute to the completion of one design, which, properly pursued, will naturally diffuse itself into a regular beginning, middle, and end. Yet in attaining this unity of the whole, the necessary regularity must still be poetical, for the spirit of poetry cannot exist under the shackles of logical or mathematical arrangement. Or, to use the words of a very eminent critic, "As there must needs be a connection, so that connection will best answer its end; and the purpose of the writer, which, whilst it leads by a sure train of thinking to the conclusion in view, conceals itself all the while, and leaves to the reader the satisfaction of supplying the intermediate links, and joining together, in his own mind, what is left in a seeming posture of neglect and inconnection."

If therefore the delineation of the character of the man of birth, who, with every advantage of natural abilities and amiable disposition, is at once lost to the public and himself; if this character has its beginning, middle, and end, the poem has all the unity that propriety requires: how far such unity is attained, may perhaps be seen at one view in the following argument:

After an invocation to the genius of Spenser, and proposition of the subject, the knight's first attachment to his concubine, his levity, love of pleasure, and dissipation, with the influence over him which on this she assumes, are parts which undoubtedly constitute a just beginning.

The effects of this influence, exemplified in the different parts of a gentleman's relative character -in his domestic elegance of park, gardens, and house-in his unhappiness as a lover, a parent, and a man of letters-behaviour as a master to his tenants, as a friend, and a brother-and in his feelings in his hours of retirement as a man of birth, and a patriot, naturally complete the middle, to which an allegorical catastrophe furnishes the proper and regular end.

Some reasons, perhaps, may be expected for having adopted the manner of Spenser. To propose a general use of it were indeed highly absurd; yet it may be presumed there are some subjects on which it may be used with advantage. But not to enter upon any formal defence, the author wil only say, that the fulness and wantonness of description, the quaint simplicity, and above all, the ludicrous, of which the antique phraseology and manner of Spenser are so happily and peculiarly | susceptible, inclined him to esteem it not solely as the best, but the only mode of composition adapted to his subject.

CANTO I.

The mirthful bowres and flowry dales
Of pleasures faerie land,
Where virtues budds are blighted as

By foul enchanters wand.

AWAKE, ye west windes, through the lonely dale,
And, fancy, to thy faerie bowre betake!
Even now, with balmie freshnesse, breathes the gale,
Dimpling with downy wing the stilly lake;
Through the pale willows faultering whispers wake,
And evening comes with locks bedropt with dew;
On Desmonds' mouldering turrets slowly shake
The trembling rie-grass and the hare-bell blue,
And ever and anon faire Mullas plaints renew.
O for that namelesse powre to strike mine eare,
That powre of charme thy naiads once possest,
Melodious Mulla! when, full oft whyleare,
Thy gliding murmurs soothd the gentle brest
Of haplesse Spenser; long with woes opprest,
Long with the drowsie patrons smyles decoyd,
Till in thy shades, no more with cares distrest,
No more with painful anxious hopes accloyd,
The sabbath of his life the milde good man enjoyd:

The castle of the earl of Desmond, on the banks of the river Mulla in Ireland, was sometime the residence of Spenser, the place where he wrote. the greatest part of the Faerie Queene.

Enjoyd each wish; while rapt in visions blest The Muses wooed him, when each evening grey Luxurious fancy, from her wardrobe drest, Brought forth her faerie knights in sheen array By forrest edge or welling fount, where lay, Farre from the crowd, the carelesse bard supine: Oh, happy man! how innocent and gay,

How mildly peacefull past these houres of thine! Ah! could a sigh avail, such sweete calme peace were mine!

Yet oft, as pensive through these lawns I stray,
Unbidden transports through my bosome swell;
With pleasing reverence awd mine eyes survey
The hallowed shades where Spenser s rung his shell,
The brooke still murmurs through the bushy dell,
Still through the woodlands wild and beauteous rise
The hilis green tops; still from her moss-white cell
Complayning echoe to the stockdove sighs,
And fancy, wandering here, still feels new extacies.

Then come, ye Genii of the place! O come,
Ye wilde-wood Muses of the native lay!
Ye who these bancks did whilom constant roam,
And round your Spenser ever gladsome play!
Oh, come once more! and with your magick ray
These lawns ransforming, raise the mystick scene-
The lawns already own your vertual sway,
Proud citys rise, with seas and wildes atweene;
In one enchanted view the various walks of men.

Towrd to the sky, with cliff on cliff ypild,
Fronting the Sunne, a rock fantastic rose;
From every rift the pink and primrose smild,
And redd with blossoms hung the wildings boughs;
On middle cliff each flowry shrub that blows
On Mayes sweete morne a fragrant grove displayd,
Beauteous and wilde as ever druid chose;
From whence a reverend wizard through the shade
Advaunst to meet my steps; for here me seemd I
strayd.

White as the snow-drop round his temples flowd
A few thin hairs; bright in his eagle eye, [glowd;
Meint with Heavens lightning, social mildnesse
Yet when him list queynt was his leer and slie,
Yet wondrous distant from malignitie;
For still his smyle did forcibly disclose
The soul of worth and warm hart-honestie:
Such winning grace as age but rare bestows [rose.
Dwelt on his cheeks and lips, though like thewithering

Well worthy views," quoth I, "rise all around, But certes, lever would I see and hear, How, oft, the gentle plant of generous ground And fairest bloom no ripend fruit will bear: Oft have I shed, perdie, the bitter tear To see the shoots of vertue shrink and dy, Untimely blasted in the soft greene eare: What evil blight thus works such villany, [try." To tell, O reverend seer, thy prompt enchantment "Ah me! how little doe unthinking youth Foresee the sorrowes of their elder age! Full oft," quoth he, "my bosom melts with ruth To note the follies of their early stage, Where dissipations cup full deepe they pledge; Ne can the wizards saws disperse to fight The ills that soon will warre against them wage, Ne may the spells that lay the church-yarde spr ght, From pleasures servile bands release the luckless wight.

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"In yonder dale does wonne a gentle knight"-
Fleet as he spake still rose the imagerie
of all he told depeinten to the sight;
It was, I weet, a godlie baronie:
Beneath a greene clad hill, right faire to see,
The castle in the sunny vale ystood;
All round the east grew many a sheltering tree,
And on the west a dimpling silver flood [wood.
Ran through the gardins trim, then crept into the

"How sweetly here," quoth he," might one employ
And fill with worthy deed the fleeting houres!
What pleasaunce mote a learned wight enjoy
Emong the hills and vales and shady bowres,
To mark how buxom Ceres round him poures
The hoary-headed wheat, the freckled corne,
The bearded barlie, and the hopp that towres
So high, and with his bloom salews the morne,
And with the orchard vies the lawnskepe to adorn.

"The fragrant orchard, where her golden store
Pomona lashes on everie tree,

The velvet-coated peach, the plumb so hore,
The nectrines redd, and pippins sheene to see,
That nod in everie gale with wanton glee:
How happy here with Woodstocks laughing swain
And Avons bard of peerlesse memorie

Of skyen blue a mantling robe he wore,
A purple girdle loosely tyd his waist
Enwove with many a flowre from many a shore,
And half conceald and half reveald his vest,
His vest of silk, the faerie queenes bequest
What time she wooed him ere his head was grey;
A lawrell bough he held, and now addrest
To speech, he points it to the mazy way
To saunter through the dasie whitened plain, [train.
That wide and farre around in wildest prospect lay. When fancys sweetest impe Dan Spenser joins the

"Younkling," quoth he, “lo, where at thy desire
The wilderness of life extensive lies;
The path of blustering fame and warlike ire,
Of scowling powre and lean-boned covetise,
Of thoughtlesse mirth and follys giddy joys;
And whither all those paths illusive end,
All these at my command didactick rise,
And shift obedient as mine arm I bend."

"Ne to syr Martyn hight were these unknown;
Oft by the brooke his infant steps they led,
And oft the fays, with many a warbling tone
And laughing shape, stood round his morning bed:
Such happiness bloomd fair around his head.
Yet though his mind was formd each joy to taste,
From him, alas! dear homefelt joyaunce fled,
Vain meteors still his cheated arms embraced;

He said, and to the field did straight his arm extend. Where all seemd flowrie gay, he found a drery waste.

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Fleet passd the months eye yet the giddy boy
One thought bestowd on what would surely be;
But well his aunt perceiv'd his dangerous toy,
And sore she feard her auncient familie
Should now be staind with blood of base degree:
For sooth to tell, her liefest hearts delight
Was still to count her princely pedigree,
Through barons bold all up to Cadwall hight,
Thence up to Trojan Brute ysprong of Venus bright.

"But, zealous to forefend her gentle race
From baselie matching with plebeian bloud, [grace,
Whole nights she schemd to shonne thilk foull dis-
And Kathrins bale in wondrous wrath she vowd:
Yet could she not with cunning portaunce shroud,
So as might best succede her good intent,
But clept her lemman and vild slut aloud;

That soon she should her gracelesse thewes repent, And stand in long white sheet before the parson shent."

So spake the wizard, and his hand he wavd,
And prompt the scenerie rose, where listless lay
The knight in shady bowre, by streamlet lavd,
While I hilomela soothd the parting day:
Here Kathrin him approachd with features gay,
And all her store of blandishments and wiles;
The knight was touchd-but she with soft delay
And gentle teares yblends her languid smiles,
And of base falsitie th' enamourd boy reviles.

Amazd the boy beheld her ready teares,
And, faultring oft, exclaims with wondring stare,
"What mean these sighs? dispell thine yale feares;
And, confident in me, thy griefes declare."
"And need," quoth she, "need I my heart to bare,
And tellen what untold well knowne mote be?
Lost is my friends good-will, my mothers care-
By you deserted-ah! unhappy me! [eltie."
-Left to your aunts fell spight, and wreakfull cru-

"My aunt!" quoth he, "forsooth shall she command?
No; sooner shall yond hill forsake his place,"
He laughing said, and would have caught her hand;
Her hand she shifted to her blubberd face
With prudish modestie, and sobd, "Alas!
Grant me your bond, or else on yonder tree
These silkin garters, pledge of thy embrace,
Ah, welladay! shall hang my babe and me, [thee."
And everie night our ghostes shall bring all Hell to

Ythrilld with horror gapd the wareless wight,
As when, aloft on well-stored cherrie-tree,
The thievish elfe beholds with pale affright
The gardner near, and weets not where to flee:
"And will my bond forefend thilk miserie?
That shalt thou have; and for thy peace beside,
What mote I more? housekeeper shalt thou be”—
An awfull oath forthwith his promise tied, [bride.
And Kathrin was as blythe as ever blythesome

His aunt fell sick for very dole to see
Her kindest counsels scornd, and sore did pine
To think what well she knew would shortly be,
Cadwailins blood debasd in Kathrins line;
For very dole she died. Oh sad propine,
Syr knight, for all that care which she did take!
How many a night, for coughs and colds of thine,
Has she sat up, rare cordial broths to make,
And cockerd thee so kind with many a daintie cake!

Soft as the gossamer in summer shades
Extends its twinkling line from spray to spray,"
Gently as sleep the weary lids invades,
So soft, so gently pleasure mines her way:
But whither will the smiling fiend betray,
Ah, let the knights approaching days declare!
Though everie bloome and flowre of buxom May
Bestrew her path, to deserts cold and bare
The mazy path betrays the giddy wight unware.
"Ah!" says the wizard, "what may now availe
His manlie sense that fairest blossoms bore,
His temper gentle as the whispering gale,
His native goodnesse, and his vertuous lore!
Now through his veins, all uninflamd before,
Th' enchanted cup of dissipation hight
Has shedd, with subtil stealth, through everie pore,
Its giddy poison, brewd with magicke might,
Each budd of gentle worth and better thought to
blight.

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"Now round his dores ynail'd on cloggs of wood
Hang many a badgers snout and foxes tail,
The which had he through many a hedge persewd,
Through marsh, through meer, dyke, ditch, and
delve and dale:
[pale;

To hear his hair-breadth scapes would make you
Which well the groome hight Patrick can relate,
Whileas on holidays he quaffs his ale;
And not one circumstance will he forgett,
So keen the braggard chorle is on his hunting sett.

"Now on the turf the knight with sparkling eyes
Beholds the springing racers sweep the ground;
Now lightlie by the post the foremost flies,
And thondring on, the rattling hoofs rebound;
The coursers groan, the cracking whips resound:
And gliding with the gale they rush along
Right to the stand. The knight stares wildly round,
And, rising on his sell, his jocund tongue

Is heard above the noise of all the noisie throng.

« While thus the knight persewd the shaddow joy,
As youthful spirits thoughtlesse led the way,
Her gilden ba ts, ah, gilded to decoy!
Kathrin did eve and morn before him lay,
Watchfull to please, and ever kindlie gay;
Till, like a thing bewitchd, the carelesse wight
Resigns himself to her capricious sway:
Then soon, perdie, was never charme-bound spright
In necromancers thrall in halfe such pitteous plight.
"Her end accomplishd, and her hopes at stay,
What need her now, she recks, one smyle bestow;
Each care to please were trouble thrown away,
And thriftlesse waste, with many maxims moe,
As, What were she the better did she so?
She conns, and freely sues her native bent;
Yet still can she to guard his thral dom know,
Though grimd with snuff in tawdrie gown she went,
Though peevish were her spleen and rude her jol-

liment.

"As when the linnett hails the balmie morne,
And roving through the trees his mattin sings,
Lively with joy, till on a lucklesse thorne
He lights, where to his fect the birdlime clings;
Then all in vain he flapps his gaudie wings;
The more he flutters still the more foredone:
So fares it with the knight: each morning brings
His deeper thrall; ne can he brawling shun,
For Kathrin was his thorne and birdlime both in one.

"Or, when atop the hoary western hill
The ruddie Sunne appears to rest his chin,
When not a breeze disturbs the murmuring rill,
And mildlie warm the falling dewes begin,
The gamesome trout then shows her silverie skin,
As wantonly beneath the wave she glides,
Watching the buzzing flies, that never blin,
Then, dropt with pearle and golde, displays her sides,
While she with frequent leape the ruffled streame
divides.

"On the greene banck a truant schoolboy stands;
Well has the urchin markt her merry play,
An ashen rod obeys his guilefull hands,
And leads the mimick fly across her way;
Askaunce, with wistly look and coy delay,
The hungrie trout the glitteraund treachor eyes,
Semblaunt of life, with speckled wings so gay;
Then, slylie, nibbling, prudish from it flies, [prize.
Till with a bouncing start she bites the truthless

"Ah, then the younker gives the fatefull twitch;
Struck with amaze she feels the hook ypight
Deepe in her gills, and, plonging where the beech
Shaddows the poole, she runs in dred affright;
In vain the deepest rock, her late de ight,
In vain the sedgy nook for help she tries;
The langhing elfe now curbs, now aids her flight,
The more entangled still the more she flies,
And soon amid the grass the panting captive lies.

"Where now, ah pity! where that sprightly play,
That wanton bounding, and exulting joy,
That lately welcomd the retourning ray,
When by the riviett bancks, with blushes coy,
April walkd forth-ah! never more to toy

In purling streame, she pants, she gasps, and dies!
Aye me! how like the fortune of the boy,
His days of revel and his nights of noise [prize.
Have left him now, involvd, his lemmans hapless

See now the changes that attend her sway;
The parke where rural elegance had placed
Her sweet retreat, where cunning art did play
Her happiest freaks, that nature undefacd
Receivd new charmes; ah, see, how foul disgracd
Now lies thilke parke so sweetlie wylde afore!
Each grove and bowery walke be now laid waste;
And snowd with washing suds now yawns beside the
The bowling-greene has lost its shaven flore, [dore.

"All round the borders where the pansie blue,
Crocus, and polyanthus speckld fine,
And daffodils in fayre confusion grew
Emong the rose-bush roots and eglantine;
These now their place to cabbages resign,
And tawdrie pease supply the lillys stead;
Rough artichokes now bristle where the vine
Its purple clusters round the windows spread,
And laisie coucumbers on dung recline the head.
"The fragrant orchard, once the summers pride,
Where oft, by moonshine, on the daisied greene,
In jovial daunce, or tripping side by side,
Pomona and her buxom nymphs were seene;
Or, where the clear canal stretchd out atweene,
Deffly their locks with blossomes would they brede;
Or, resting by the primrose hillocks sheene,
Beneath the apple boughs and walnut shade,
They sung their loves the while the fruitage gaily
spread:

"The fragrant orchard at her dire command
In all the pride of blossome strewd the plain;
The hillocks gently rising through the land
Must now no trace of natures steps retain ;
The clear canal, the mirrour of the swain,
And bluish lake no more adorn the greene,
Two durty watering ponds alone remain;
And where the moss-floord filbert bowres had beene,
Is now a turnip field and cow yarde nothing cleane.

"An auncient crone, yclepd by housewives Thrift,
All this devisd for trim oeconomie;
But certe ever from her birth bereft
Of elegance, ill fitts her title high:
Coarse were her looks, yet smoothe her courtesie,
Hoyden her shapes, but grave was her attyre,
And ever fixt on trifles was her eye;

And still she plodden round the kitchen fyre, [syre.
To save the smallest crombe her pleasure and de-

"Ne may grim Saracene, nor Tartar man,
Such ruthlesse bondage on his slave impose,
As Kathrin on the knight full deffly can;
Ne may the knight escape, or cure his woes:
As he who dreams he climbs some mountains brows,
With painful struggling up the steep height strains,
Anxious he pants and toils, but strength foregoes
His feeble limbs, and not a step he gains; [chains.
So toils the powrelesse knight beneath his servile

"Bow-bent with eld, her steps were soft and slow,
Fast at her side a bounch of keys yhong,
Dull care sat brooding on her jealous brow,
Sagacious proverbs dropping from her tongue :
Yet sparing though she beene her guestes emong,
Ought by herself that she mote gormandise,
The foul curmudgeon would have that ere long,
And hardly could her witt her gust suffice;
Albee in varied stream, still was it covetise.
"Dear was the kindlié love which Kathrin bore
This crooked ronion, for in soothly guise
She was her genius and her counsellor :
Now cleanly milking-pails in careful wise
Bedeck each room, and much can she despise
The knights complaints, and thriftlesse judgment ill:
Eke versd in sales, right wondrous cheap she buys,
Parlour and bedroom too her bargains fill;
Though useless, cheap they beene, and cheap she
purchasd still."

"His tenants whilom been of thriftie kind,
Did like to sing and worken all the day,
At seedtime never were they left behind,
And at the harvest feast still first did play;
And ever at the terme their rents did pay,
For well they knew to guide their rural geer:
All in a row, yclad in homespun gray,
They marchd to church each Sunday of the year,
Their imps yode on afore, the carles brought up

the rear.

"Ab, happy days! but now no longer found:
No more with social hospitable glee
The village hearths at Christmas tide resound,
No more the Whitsun gamboll may you see,
Nor morrice daunce, nor May daye jollitie,
When the blythe maydens foot the deawy green;
But now, in place, heart-sinking penurie
And hopelesse care on every face is seen,
As these the drery times of curfeu bell had been.
"For everie while, with thief-like lounging pace,
And dark of look, a tawdrie villain came,
Muttering some words with serious-meaning face,
And on the church dore he would fix their name;
Then, nolens volens, they must heed the same,
And quight those fieldes their yeomen grandsires
plowd
[fame,
Eer since black Edwards days, when, crownd with
From Cressie field the knights old grandsire prowd
Led home his yeomandrie, and each his glebe al-
lowd.

"But now the orphan sees his harvest fielde
Beneath the gripe of laws stern rapine fall,
The friendlesse widow, from her hearth expelld,
Withdraws to some poor hutt with earthen wall:
And these, perdie, were Kathrins projects all;
For, sooth to tell, grievd was the knight full sore
Such sinful deeds to see: yet such his thrall,
Though he had pledgd his troth, yet nathemore
It mote he keep, except she willd the same before.
"Oh wondrous powre of womans wily art,
What for thy witchcraft too secure may be !
Not Circes cup may so transform the heart,
Or bend the will, fallacious powre, like thee;
Lo manly sense, of princely dignitie,
Witchd by thy spells, thy crowching slave is seen;
Lo, high-browd honour bends the groveling knee,
And every bravest virtue, sooth I ween,

Seems like a blighted flowre of dank unlovely mien.
VOL. XVII.

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"See," quoth the wizard, "how with foltering mien,
And discomposd yon stranger he receives;
Lo, how with sulkie look, and moapt with spleen,
His frowning mistresse to his friend behaves;
In vain he nods, in vain his hand he waves,
Ne will she heed, ne will she sign obay;
Nor corner dark his awkward blushes saves,
Ne may the hearty laugh, ne features gay:
The hearty laugh, perdie, does but his pain betray.

"A worthy wight his friend was ever known,
Some generous cause did still his lips inspire;
He begs the knight by friendships long agone
To shelter from his lawyers cruel ire

An auncient hinde, around whose cheerlesse fire
Sat grief, and pale disease. The poor mans wrong
Affects the knight: his inmost harts desire
Gleams through his eyes; yet all confus'd, and stung
With inward pain, he looks, and silence guards his
tongue.

"See, while his friend entreats and urges still,
See, how with sidelong glaunce and haviour shy
He steals the look to read his lemmans will,
Watchfull the dawn of an assent to spy.
Look as he will, yet will she not comply.
His friend with scorn beholds his awkward pain;
From him even pity turns her tear-dewd eye,
And hardlie can the bursting laugh restrain,
While manlie honour frowns on his unmanlie stain.

"Let other scenes now rise," the wizard said:
He wavd his hand, and other scenes arose.

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