« السابقةمتابعة »
The Sun, with cheerful beams, to purge the air, Helmets and spears, and shields, and coats of mail, But roll their suffocating horrours round
With iron stiff, or tin, or brass, or gold, Incessant, banishing the blooming train
Swells a triumphal arch; beneath grim War Of Health, and Joy, for ever, from the dome. Shakes her red arm: for War is a disease In sad magnificence the palace rears
The fellest of the fell! Why will mankind, Its mouldering columns; from thy guarries, Nile, Why will they, when so many plagues involve Of sable marble, and Egyptian mines
This habitable globe, (the curse of sin,) Embowell'd. Nor Corinthian pillars, gay
Invent new desolations to cut off With foliag'd capitals and figur'd frize,
The Christian race? At least in Christian climes Nor feminine Ionique, nor, tho' grave,
Let olives shade your mountains, and let Peace The fluted Dorique, and the Tuscan plain, Stream her white banner o'er us, blest from War, In just proportions rise: but Gothic, rude, And laurels only deck your poet's brows. Irreconcil'd in ruinous design:
Or, if the fiery metal in your blood, Save in the centre, in relievo high,
And thirst of human-life your bosom sting,
Too savage! let the fury loose of War,
Where David sung, the son of David bled; Surveys the glittering pest, and grimly smiles And warm new Tasso's with the epic-flame. With hellish glee. Beneath, totters her throne, Right opposite to War a gorgeous throne Of jarring elements; earth, water, fire; [tain With jewels Haming and emboss'd
with gold, Where hot, and cold; and moist, and dry main- And various sculpture, strikes the wond'ring eye Unnatural war. Shapeless her frightful form, With jovial scenes (aniid destruction gay,) (A chaos of distemper'd limbs in one)
Of instruments of mirth, the harp, the lute, Huge as Megæra, cruel as the grave,
Of costly viands, of delicious wines, Her eyes, two comets; and her breath, a storm. And flow'ry wreaths to bind the careless brow High in her wither'd arms, she wields her rod, Of youth, or age; as youth or age demand With adders curl'd, and dropping gore; and points | The pleasing ruin from th' enchantress, vile To the dead walls, besmear'd with cursed tales Intemperance: than Circe subtler far, Of Plagues red-spotted, of blue Pestilence, Only subdu'd by wisdom ; fairer far Walking in darkness; Havock at their heels; Than young Armida, whose bewitching charms Lean Famine, gnawing in despight her arm: Rinaldo fetter'd in her rosy chains; Whatever Egypt, Athens, or Messine,
Till, by Ubaldo held, bis diamond shield Constantinople, Troynovant, Marseilles,
Blaz'd on his mind the virtues of his race, Or Cairo felt, or Spagnolet could paint.
And, quick, dissolv'd her wanton mists away. A sickly taper, glimmering feeble rays
See, from her throne, slow-moving, she extends Across the gloom, makes horrour visible,
A poison'd gobblet ! fly the beauteous bane : And punishes, while it informs, the eye.
The adder's tooth, the tiger's hungry fang, A thousand and ten thousand monstrous shapes Are harmless to her smiles; her smiles are dcath. Compose the group; the execrable crew
Beneath the foamy lustre of the bowl, Which Michael, in vision strange, disclos'd Which sparkles men to madness, lurks a snake To Adam, in the Lazar-house of woe;
Of mortal sting: fly: if you taste the wine, A colony from Hell. The knotted Gout,
Machaon swears that moly cannot cure. The bloated Dropsy, and the racking Stone Tho'innocent and fair her looks, she holds Rolling her eyes in anguish; Lepra foul,
A lawless commerce with her sister-pests, Strangling Angina; Ephialtic starts;
And doubly whets their darts: away-and live. Unnerv'd Paralysis; with moist Catarrhs;
Next, in a low-brow'd cave, a little hell, Pleuritis bending o'er its side, in pain;
A pensive hag, moping in darkness, sits Vertigo; murderous Apoplexy, proud
Dolefully-sad: her eyes (so deadly-dull!) With the late spoils of Clayton's honour'd life: Stare from their stonied sockets, widely wild; Clayton, the good, the courteous, the humane; For ever bent on rusty knives, and ropes; Tenacious of his purpose, and his word
On poignards, bows of poison, daggers red Firm as the fabled throne of Grecian Jove.
With clotted gore.
A raven by her side Be just, О memory! again recall
Eternal croaks; her only mate Despair; Those looks illumin'd by his honest heart, Who, scowling in a night of clouds, presents That open freedom, and that cheerful ease, A thousand burning hells, and damned souls, The bounteous emanations of his soul:
And lakes of stormy fire, to mad the brain His British honour; Christiau charity;
Moon-strucken. Melancholy is her name; And mild benevolence for human-kind.
Britannia's bitter bane. Thou gracious Pow'r, From every quarter, lamentations loud,
(Whose judgments and whose mercies who can And sighs resound, and rueful peals of groans
tell!) Roll echoing round the vaulted dens, and screams With bars of steel, with hills of adamant Dolorous, wrested from the heart of pain,
Crush down the sooty fiend; nor let her blast And brain-sick agony. Around ber throne The sacred light of Heaven's all-cheering face, Six favourite Furies, next herself accurst,
Nor fright, from Albion's isle, the angel Hope. Their dismal mansions keep; in order each, Fever the fourth : adust as Afric-wilds, As most destructive. In the foremost rank, Chain'd to a bed of burning brass; her eyes Of polish'd steel, with armour blood-distain'd, Like roving meteors blaze, por ever close
Their wakeful lids: she turns, but turns in vain, 4 Milton's Paradise Lost, Book 1st. Through nights of misery. Attendant Thirst
Grasps hard an empty bowl, and shrivell’d strives Immaculate; ye roses, sweet as morn;
His op'ning flow'r of beauty softly smild,
And, sparkling in the liquid dews of youth, And drew the tender tear from Pity's eye. Adorn'd the blessed light! with blossoms fair,
Consumption near; a joyless, meagre wight, Untainted; in the rank Italian soil Panting for breath, and shrinking into shade From blemish pure. The virgins stole a sigh, Eludes the grasp: thin as the embodied air The matrons lifted up their wond'ring eyes, Which, erst, deceivd Ixion's void embrace, And blest the English angel as he pass'd, Ambitious of a goddess! scarce her legs
Rejoicing in his rays! Why did we trust Feebly she drags, with wheezing labour, on, A plant so lovely to their envious skies, And motion slow: a willow wand directs
Unmercifully bright with savage beams?
The last, so turpid to the view, affrights Courting, and courted by the classic Muse,
In every word and look: his reason's ray
By folly, vanity, or vice unstain'd, Thon nauseous enemy to human-kind:
Shining at once with purity and strength, In man, and man alone, thy mystic seeds, With English honesty and Attic fire: Puiet, and in their secret windings bid,
His tenderness of spirit, high-inform'd Lie unprolific; till Infection rouze
With wide benevolence, and candid zeal Her pois nous particles, of proper size,
For learning, liberty, religion, truth: Figure and measure, to exert their pow's
The patriot-glories burning in his breast, Of impregiation; atoms subtle, barbid,
His king's and country's undivided friend! lafrangible, and active to destroy;
Each public virtue, and each private grace; By geometric or mechanic rules
The Seymour-dignity, the Percy-flame; Yet undiscover'd: quick the leaven runs,
All, all !- Ere twenty autumns rollid away Destructive of the solids, spirits, blood
Their golden plenty. Further still! behold Of mortal man, and agitates the whole
His animated bloom; lis flush of health; In general conflagration and injsrule.
The blood exulting with the balmy tide
Of vernal life! so fresh for pleasure form'd
As adders deaf to beauty, wit, and youth, Th' unutterable essence of good Heav'n,
And are these wonders vanish'd? are those eyes, And manly Oldham's pointed vigour, curs'd Where ardent truth and melting mildness shone, Es the gor'd sons of Loyola and Rome.
Clos'd in a foreign land? no more to bless Add he who Phedra sung, in buskin’d pomp, A father, mother, friend! no more to charm Mad with incestuous tires, ingenious Smith: A longing people? O, lamented youth! Oxonia's sons! And, 0, our recent grief! Since fate and gloomy night thy beauties veil'd Shall Beauchamp 5 die, forgotten by the Muse, With shade mysterious, and eclips'd thy beams, Or are the Muses with their Hertfort dumb! How many Somersets are lost in thee! Where are ye? weeping o'er thy learned Rhine, Yet only lost to Earth!—for trust the Muse, Budonia, fatal to our hopes! or else
(His virtues rather trust) she saw him rise By Kennet's chalky wave, with tresses torn, She saw him smile along the tissu'd clouds, Or rude, and wildly floating to the winds,
In colours rich-embroider'd by the Sun, Mute, on the hoary willows hang the lyre, Engirt with cherub-wings, and kindred-forms, Neglected? Or in rural Percy-lodge,
Children of light, the spotless youth of Heav'n! Where Innocence and he walk'd hand in hand, They hail their blest companion, gain'd so soon The cypress erop, or weave the laurel-bough A partner of their joys; and crown with stars, To grace his honour'd grave? Ye lilies, rise Almost as fair, the radiance of his brows.
Ev'n where the angel host, with tongues of fire, s Lord Beauchamp, only son of the earl of Chant to their glittering harps th’Almighty's Hertford, died at Bolognia of the sinall-pox, Sep- And, in a burning circle, shout around (praise, tember 11th, 1744, aged 19.
The jasper-throne, he mingles flames with them;
He springs into the centre of the choir,
P. 41. Medea gather'd and Canidia brew'd, &c. He sings as sweet, and glows as bright as they.
Medea, notorious for her incantations in Ovid, &c. as Canidia in Horace. P. 41.
or Pontus yields, &c. NOTES AND ALLUSIONS.
Pontus, Colcbos, and Thessalia, well known for Page 41. With eupbrasy, Angl. eyebright. producing noxious and poisonous herbs and plants. This herb was unknown to the ancients; at least it is not mentioned by them. It is of extraor
Has herbas, atque hæc Ponto mihi lecta venena, dinary service to the eye, curing most of its Ipse dedit Mæris; nascuntur plurima Ponto. distempers.
Virg. Eclog. S.
Herbasque quas & Colchos & Iberia mittit, -Cum debilitat morb: vis improba visum, Venenorum terax.
Hor. Epod. 5.
Thessala quinetiam tellus herbasque nocentes,
Lucan. Lib, r.
amello blooming still The visual nerve.
In Virgil's rural page.
Est etiam flos in pratis cui nomen amello P. 41. As Venus gave Æneas to behold, &c.
Fecere agricolæ. Virg. Georg. Lib. vi. See Virgil. Æn. Lib. ii. Which seems to be Besides there grows a flow'r in marshy ground, borrowed from Homer. Ilias. Lib. v. We have Its name amellus, easy to be found: several of the like instances in the sacred volumes. A mighty spring works in its root, and cleaves Gen. xxi. 19, And God opened her eyes and she The sprouting stalk, and shows itself in leares. saw a well of water. Numbers, xxii, 31. Then The flow'r itself is of a golden hue, the Lord opened the eyes of Balaam, and he saw The leaves inclining to a darker blue, &c. the angel of the Lord, &c.
Addison's Works, Vol. i. 4to. P. 41. by mortal foot
P. 42. or Spagnolet could paint. Rare visitede
A famous painter, eminent for drawing the See Virgil:
distresses and agonies of human nature. Sed mParnassi deserta per ardua dulcis
P. 42, Which Michael in vision strange. Raptat amor: Juvat ire jugis, quà nulla priorum, Castaliam molli divertitur orbita clivo.
See Milton's Paradise Lost, b. xi. Georg. Lib. ii. P. 42.
Clayton's honoured life. Which is imitated from Lucretius, Lib. ii.
Sir William Clayton, bart. died at Marden in
Surry, December the 28th, 1744.
P. 42. Where David sung, &c.
Though a croisade may seem very romantic Speiser!
(and perhaps it is so) yet it has been applauded
by the greatest writers of different ages; by The date of our English poetry may with great Æneas Sylvius, by Bessarion, by Naugerius, &e. justice begin with Spenser. It is true, Chaucer, who have each writ orations upon that subject. Gower, and Lydgate were masters of uncommon beauties, considering the age they lived in, and and Jac. Baldè, the two most celebrated of the
And here I cannot help observing, that Casimire have described the humours, passions, &c. with modern lyric poets, have writ several of their great discernmejit.
Yet none of them seem to finest odes to animate the christian princes to have been half so well acquainted with the very such a design; and that Tasso has adorned the life and being of poetry, invention, painting, and expedition of Godfrey of Bulloign with the most design, as Spenser. Chaucer was the best before beautiful and perfect poem since the Æneis (for him; but then he borrowed most of his poems, I prefer Milton to Virgil himself.) either from the ancients, or from Boccace, Petrarch, or the Provençal writers, &c. Thus bis P. 42. Than Circe subtler far. Troilus and Cressida, the largest of his works,
See Homer's Odyssey, Lib. 10. was taken from Lollius; and the Romaunt of the Rose was translated from the French of John de P. 42. Than young Armida, &c. Meun, an Englishman, who flourished in the reign See Tasso's Il Godfredo, Canto iv. Stanz. 29, of Richard Il. and so of the rest. As for those &c. Canto xiv. Stanz. 68. Canto xvi. Stanz, 29. who followed him, such as Heywood, Scogan, Skelion, &c. they seem to be wholly ignorant of
P. 42. Machaon swears, &c. either numbers, language, propriety, or even de- Machaon celebrated in Homer; but here used, cency itself. I must be understood to except the in general, for any physician. So Ovid: earl of Surry, sir Thomas Wiat, sir Philip Sidney, Firma valent perse, nullumque Machaona quærunt. several pieces in the Mirror of Magistrates, and
And Martial : a few parts of Mr. G. Gascoign's and Turbervill's works,
Quid tibi cum medicis? dimitte Machaonas omnes.
THE PROGRESS OF SICKNESS.
P. 42. That moly cannot cure.
Fleu miserande puer, siqua fata aspera rumpas,
'Tu Marcellus eris.me Mercury is said to have presented moly to Ulysses to preserve him from the charms of Sed nox atra caput tristi circumvolat umbra.
Virg. En. Lib. vi. Circe. Homer's Odyss. Lib. x. Thus while be spoke, the sovereign plant he drew, Where on th’all-bearing Earth unmark'd it grew. And show'd its Nature and its wondrous pow'r; Black was the root, but milky white the flow'r: Moly the name.
. Laudatissima herbarum est Homero, quam vo- When I waited for light there came darkness. cari a diis putat moly, & inventionem ejus Mer- My skin is black upon me; and my bones are curio assignat, contraque summa veneficia de
burnt with heat. monstrat, &c. Plinius, Lib. xxv. c. 4.
My harp is also turned to mourning. Job. P. 43. From Phalaris's bull, &c. Amongst several instruments of torment that
ARGUMENT. Phalaris caused to be contrived, there was a bull Reflections. The progress of the disease. Blind
Delirious dreams. of brass, in which people being cast, and a fire
Remedies for the placed under it, they bellowed like oxen. Pe
mind: 1. Patience: 2. Hope: 3. Prayer. Hu. rillus the artist, demanding a great reward for his
man aid and relief in sickness: 1. Physic; invention, was put in it himself to try the first eulogium on that science: 2. Friends; digresexperiment. Upon which Pliny makes this good
sion on friendship. patured reflection: Perillum nemo laudat, sæviorem Phalaride tyranno, qui taurum fecit, mu- The fair, the bright, the great, alas! are fall'n, gitus hominis pollicitus, igne subilito, & priinus Nipt in the bloom of beauty, wit, and youth, eum expertus cruciatum justiore sævitia, &c.
Death's undistinguish'd prey. Shall I complain Plinius, Lib. xxxiv. c. 8.
(When such th' establish'd ordinance of Heav'n) P. 43. deceiv'd Ixion's void embrace.
if Sickness at my bosom lay the siege?
A worm to them and to their light a shade, Ixion being invited to dine with Jupiter fell in
Ungilded with one beam, which melted down love with Juno, and endeavoured to debauch her, The tear fast-trickling o'er their honour'd tombs: who acquainted her husband. He to try Ixion
We all must die! Our every pulse that beats, formed a clond into Juno's likeness, upon which
Beats toward eternity, and tolls our doon:. he satisfied his lust. Hygini Fab. Diador. vi. &c.
Fate reigns in all the portions of the year. P. 43. Orinda,
The fruits of Autumn feed us for disease;
The Winter's raw inclemencies bestow Mrs. K. Philips, styled the matchless Orinda.
Disease on Death; while Spring, to strew' our herse, See her poems in folio. Cowley has two odes Kindly unbosums, weeping in their dews, upon her, in the 2d vol, of his works, 8vo.
Her flow'ry race! and Summer (kinder, still) P. 43. Blooming Killigrew's soft lay.
With the green turf and brambles binds our graves.
But am I wake? or in Ovidian realms, See her poems in 4to. Mr. Dryden celebrates And Circè holds the glass? What odious change her death in an excellent ode. See his works, vol. What metamorphose strikes the dubious eye? 3d, folio, p. 186. See likewise Wood's Athenæ | Ah, whither is retird the scarlet wave, (check, Oxou). vol. 2d.
Mantling with health, which floated through the P. 43. Loyola.
Froin the strong summer-beam imbib'd? And
The vernal lily's softly-blended bloom? (where Ignatius Loyola, founder of the Jesuits; against The forehead roughens to the wond'ring hand. whom Mr. Oldham writ those satires, which are
Wide o'er the human-field, the body, spreads the best of his works.
Contagious war, and lays its beauties waste. P. 43. Bononia fatal to our hopes.
As once thy breathing harvest, Cadmus, sprung
Sudden, a serpent-brood! an armed crop Bolognia a city in Italy, the first school of the Of growing chiefs, and fought themselves to draih. Lomband painters, and a famous university, One bjack-incrusted bark of gory boils, - Parvique Bononia Rheni. Silius Ital. Lib. viii. One undistinguish'd blister, froin the sole
Of the sore foot, to the head's sorer crown. P. 43. And bless'd the English angel as he pass’d- Job's punishment! With patience like his own,
At Bolognia he went by the name of L'Angelo O may I exercise my wounded soul, Inglese. The same compliment seems to have And cast myself upon his healing hand, been paid by that people to our great Milton in Who bruiseth at his will, and maketh whole. his travels, as we learn by this epigram of a Ah, too, the lustre of the eyes is fled! learned Italian nobleman in the 2d volume of Heavy and dull, their orbs neglect to roll, Milton's poetical works:
In motionless distortion stiff and fix'd;
Till by the trenabling hand of watchful age Ut mens, forma, decor, facies, mos, si pietas sic, (A weeping matron, timorous to attright, Non Anglus, verum herc'le Angelus, ipse, fores.
And piously fallacious in her care,
Pretending ligbt offensive, and the Sun)
Clos'd; and, perhaps, for ever! ne'er again
To open on the sphere, to drink the day, More than a Muse inspire.-Momental bliss!
For sudden rapt, the midnight howl of wolves,
Those bolts of steel, those adamantine links Ev'n tho' by worms destroy'd, shall see my God, Demand Typhæus' strength to burst.-AwayAnd, seeing, ne'er remember darkness more, Venus and Mars-beware.--In giddy whirls Environ'd with eternity of day.
I ride the blast, and tow’ring through the storm Tho', at their visual entrance, quite sbut out Enjoy the palace of the Morn. The Sun External forms, forbidden, mount the winds, Resigns the reins of Phlegon to my hands: Retire to chaos, or with night commix;
His inane waves fire: he scorches me to dust: Yet, Fancy's mimic work, ten thousand shapes, Avaunt, thou fiend! I'll hurl thee down the deep Antic and wild, rush sweeping o'er my dreams, Of Heav'n, with bolted thunder, and enwrapt Irregular and new; as pain or ease
With forky lightning.–Now staggering I reel, The spirits teach to flow, and in the brain By murderers pursu'd: my faithless feet Direction diverse hold: gentle and bright Scarce shift their pace: or down rushing amain, As hermits, sleeping in their mossy cells,
I cease to recollect my steps, and roll
Passive on earth.-Sure, 'twas Astolpho's horn
Now starting from this wilderness of dreams,
I wake from fancy'd into real woe. And horrible as murderers; or hags,
Pain empties all her vials on my head, Their lease of years spun out, and bloody bond And steeps me o'er and o'er. Th’envenom'd shirt Full-flashing on their eyes, the gulf, beneath, Of Hercules enwraps my burning limbs Mad'ning with gloomy fires; and Heav'n, behind, With dragon's blood: I rave and roar like him, With all her golden valves for ever clos'd. Writhing in agony. Devouring fires
Now in Elysium lap'd, and lovely scenes, Eat up the marrow, frying in iny bones. Where honeysuckles rove, and eglantines, O whither, whither shall I turn for aid? Narcissus, jess’min, pinks, profusely wild, Methinks a seraph whispers in my ears, In every scented gale Arabia breathe:
Pouring ambrosia on them, “ Turn to God; As blissful Eden fair; the morning-work
So peace shall be thy pillow, ease thy bed, Of Heav'n and Milton's theme! where Innocence | And night of sorrow brighten into noon. Smil'd, and improv'd the prospect. Now, anon, Let the young cherub Patience, bright-ey'd Hope, By Isis' favourite flood supinely laid,
And rosy-finger'd Pray'r, combining hold In tuneful indolence, behold the bards
A sure dominion in thy purpos'd' mind, (Harps in each hand, and laurel on each brow) Unconquer'd by affliction.” I receive A band of demi-gods, august to sight,
The mandate as from Heav'n itself.-Expand In venerable order sweetly rise,
Thyself, my soul, and let them enter in. (The Muses sparkling round them) who have trod Come, smiling angel, Patience, from thy seat; In measur'd pace its banks, for ever green, Whether the widow's cot, or hermit's cell, Enamell'd from their feet! harmonious notes, By fasting strong, and potent from distress; Warbled to Doric reeds, to Lesbian lyres, Or midnight-student's taper-glimmering roof, Or Phrygian minstrelsie, steal on the ear
Unwearied with revolving tedious tomes, Enamour'd with variety: and loud
O come, thou panacea of the mind! The trumpets shrilling clangours fill the sky The manna of the soul! to every taste With silver melody-now, happier still!
Grateful alike: the universal balm Round thy Italic cloisters, musing slow,
To sickness, pain, and misery below. Or in sweet converse with thy letter'd sons, She comes! she comes! she dissipates the gloom; Philosophers, and poets, and divines,
My eyes she opens, and new scenes unfolds Enjoy the sacred walk, delighted, Queen's '! (Like Moses' bush, tho' burning, not consum'd) Where Addison and Tickell lay inspir'd,
Scenes full of splendour, miracle, and God. Inebriated from the classic springs,
Behold, my soul, the martyr-army, who And tun'd to various-sounding harps the song, With holy blood the violence of fire Sublime, or tender, humorous, or grave,
Quench'd, and with ling'ring constancy fatigu'd
The persecuting flame: or nobly stopp'd
Chant hallelujabs to the rack; as dear
And pleasing to the ear of God, as hymns
When all the host of Heaven Hosanna sing!
A bleeding Saviour view, a dying God! · Queen's-college, in Oxford.
Earth trembles, rend the rocks, creation groans: