4 He pranc'd along, disdaining gate or bar. Meantime, the bard on milk-white palfrey rode; An honest sober beast, that did not mar His meditations, but full softly trode; And much they moraliz'd as thus yfere they yode They talk'd of virtue, and of human bliss. What else so fit for man to settle well? And still their long researches met in this, This truth of truths, which nothing can refel: "From virtue's fount the purest joys out-well, Sweet rills of thought that cheer the conscious soul; While vice pours forth the troubled streams of Hell, The which, howe'er disguis'd, at last with dole Will, through the tortur'd breast, their fiery torrent roll." At length it dawn'd, that fatal valley gay, rear. On the cool height awhile our palmers stay, And spite ev'n of themselves their senses cheer; Then to the wizard's wonne their steps they steer. Like a green isle, it broad beneath them spread, With gardens round, and wandering currents clear, And tufted groves to shade the meadow'bed, Sweet airs and song; and without hurry all seem'd glad. "As God shall judge me, knight, we must forgive" (The half-enraptur'd Philomelus cried) The frail good man deluded here to live, And in these groves his musing fancy hide. Ah! nought is pure. It cannot be denied, That virtue still some tincture has of vice, And vice of virtue. What should then betide But that our charity be not too nice? Come, let us those we can to real bliss entice." "Ay, sicker," quoth the knight, "all flesh is frail, Who must in floods of fire his gross foul spirit lave." 1 Thus, holding high discourse, they came to where The cursed carle was at his wonted trade; Still tempting heedless men into his snare, In witching wise, as I before had said. But when he saw, in goodly gear array'd, The grave majestic knight approaching nigh, And by his side the bard so sage and staid, His countenance fell; yet oft his anxious eye Mark'd them, like wily fox who roosted cock doth spy. Nathless, with feign'd respect, he bade give back The rabble-rout, and welcom'd them full kind; Struck with the noble twain, they were not slack His orders to obey, and fall behind. Then he resum'd his song; and unconfin'd, 'Pour'd all his music, ran through all his strings: With magic dust their eyne he tries to blind, And virtue's tender airs o'er weakness flings. What pity base his song who so divinely sings! But here, instead, is foster'd every ill, Which or distemper'd minds or bodies know. Come then, my kindred spirits! do not spill Your talents here. This place is but a show, Whose charms delude you to the den of woe: Come, follow me, I will direct you right, Where pleasure's roses, void of serpents, grow, Sincere as sweet; come, follow this good knight, And you will bless the day that brought him to your sight. "Some he will lead to courts, and some to camps; To senates some, and public sage debates, Where, by the solemn gleam of midnight-lamps, The world is pois'd, and manag'd mighty states; To high discovery some, that new-creates The face of Earth; some to the thriving mart Some to the rural reign, and softer fates; To the sweet Muses some, who raise the heart; All glory shall be yours, all nature, and all art. "There are, I see, who listen to my lay, Who wretched sigh for virtue, but despair. All may be done,' methinks I hear them say, 'Ev'n death despis'd by generous actions fair; All, but for those who to these bowers repair, Their every power dissolv'd in luxury, To quit of torpid sluggishness the lair, And from the powerful arms of sloth get free. "Tis rising from the dead :-Alas!-it cannot be !' "Would you then learn to dissipate the band Of these huge threatening difficulties dire, That in the weak man's way like lions stand, His soul appal, and damp his rising fire? Resolve, resolve, and to be men aspire. Exert that noblest privilege, alone, Here to mankind indulg'd control desire: Let godlike Reason, from her sovereign throne, Speak the commanding word-I will-and it is done. "Heavens! can you then thus waste, in shameful wise, Your few important days of trial here? Through endless states of being, still more near Can you renounce a fortune so sublime, Such glorious hopes, your backward steps to steer, And roll, with vilest brutes, thro' mud and slime? No! no!-Your heaven-touch'd heart disdains the sordid crime!" "Enough! enough!" they cried-straight from the crowd The better sort on wings of transport fly: Glad warbling thro' the vales, in their new being gay. Not less the life, the vivid joy serene, That lighted up these new-created men, Than that which wings th' exulting spirit clean, When, just deliver'd from his fleshly den, It soaring seeks its native skies agen: How light its essence! how unclogg'd its powers, Beyond the blazon of my mortal pen! Ev'n so we glad forsook the sinful bowers, Ev'n such enraptur'd life, such energy, was ours. ANCIENT AND MODERN ITALY COMPARED : BEING THE FIRST PART OF LIBERTY, A POEM. The Contents of Part I. The following poem is thrown into the form of a poetical vision. Its scene the ruins of ancient Rome. The goddess of Liberty, who is supposed to speak through the whole, appears, characterized as British Liberty. Gives a view of ancient Italy, and particularly of republican Rome, in all her magnificence and glory. This contrasted by modern Italy; its valleys, mountains, culture, cities, people: the difference appearing strongest in the capital city, Rome. The ruins of the great works of Liberty more magnificent than the borrowed pomp of Oppression; and from them revived Sculpture, Painting, and Architecture. The old Romans apostrophized, with regard to the several melancholy changes in Italy: Horace, Tully, and Virgil, with regard to their Tibur, Tusculum, and Naples. That once finest and most ornamented part of Italy, all along the coast of Baïm, how changed. This desolation of Italy applied to Britain. Address to the goddess of Liberty, that she would deduce from the first ages, her chief establishments, the description of which constitutes the subject of the following parts of this poem. She assents, and commands what she says to be sung in Britain; whose happiness, arising from freedom, and a limited monarchy, she marks. An immediate vision attends, and paints her words. Invocation. O MY lamented Talbot! while with thee Musing, I lay; warm from the sacred walks, Unfetter'd ranges, Fancy's magic hand Of Liberty appear'd. Not, as of old, Extended in her hand the cap, and rod, Whose slave-enlarging touch gave double life But her bright temples bound with British oak, 66 The great republic sec! that glow'd, sublime, Of brooks now lost and streams renown'd in song: "Her forum see, warm, popular, and loud, " Mark, as the purple triumph waves along,' The highest pomp and lowest fall of life. "Her festive games, the school of heroes, see; *L. J. Brutus, and Virginius. Her circus, ardent with contending youth; 66 'Need I the contrast mark? unjoyous view! A land in all, in government, in arts, In virtue, genius, earth and heaven, revers'a, Who but, these far-fam'd ruins to behold, Proofs of a people, whose heroic aims Soar'd far above the little selfish sphere Of doubting modern life; who but, inflam'd With classic zeal, these consecrated scenes Of men and deeds to trace,-unhappy land, Would trust thy wilds, and cities loose of sway ?. "Are these the vales, that, once, exulting states In their warm bosom fed? the mountains these, On whose high-blooming sides my sons, of old, I bred to glory? the dejected towns, Where, mean, and sordid, life can scarce subsist, The scenes of ancient opulence, and pomp? 1 "Come! by whatever sacred name disguis'd, Oppression, come' and in thy works rejoice! See Nature's richest plains to putrid fens Turn'd by thy fury. From their cheerful bounds, She raz'd th' enlivening village, farm, and seat. First, rural toil, by thy rapacious hand Robb'd of his poor reward, resign'd the plow; And now he dares not turn the noxious glebe. 'Tis thine entire. The lonely swain himself, Who loves at large along the grassy downs His flocks to pasture, thy drear champain flies. Far as the sickening eye can sweep around, 'Tis all one desert, desolate, and grey, Graz'd by the sullen buffalo alone; And where the rank uncultivated growth Of rotting ages taints the passing gale, Beneath the baleful blast the city pines, Or sinks enfeebled, or infected burns. Beneath it mourns the solitary road, Roll'd in rude mazes o'er th' abandon'd waste; While ancient ways, ingulf'd, are seen no more. "Such thy dire plains, thou self-destroyer! foe To human-kind! Thy mountains too, profuse, Where savage nature blooms, seem their sad plain To raise against thy desolating rod. There on the breezy brow, where thriving states, And famous cities, once, to the pleas'd Sun, Far other scenes of rising culture spread, Pale shine thy ragged towns. Neglected round, Each harvest pines; the livid, lean produce Of heartless labor: while thy hated joys, Not proper pleasure, lift the lazy hand. Better to sink in sloth the woes of life, Than wake their rage with unavailing toil. Hence drooping Art almost to Nature leaves The rude unguided year. Thin wave the gifts Of yellow Ceres, thin the radiant blush Of orchard reddens in the warmest ray. To weedy wildness run, no rural wealth (Such as dictators fed) the garden pours. Crude the wild olive flows, and foul the vine; Nor juice Cœcubian, nor Falernian, more, Streams life and joy, save in the Muse's bowl. |