Fired by the torch of noon to tenfold rage, The' infuriate hill that shoots the pillar'd flame; And, roused within the subterranean world,
The' expanding earthquake, that resistless shakes Aspiring cities from their solid base,
And buries mountains in the flaming gulf. But 'tis enough; return, my vagrant Muse: A nearer scene of horror calls thee home.
Behold, slow-settling o'er the lurid grove Unusual darkness broods; and growing gains The full possession of the sky, surcharged With wrathful vapour, from the secret beds, Where sleep the mineral generations, drawn. Thence nitre, sulphur, and the fiery spume Of fat bitumen, steaming on the day, With various tinctured trains of latent flame, Pollute the sky, and in yon baleful cloud, A reddening gloom, a magazine of fate Ferment; till, by the touch etherial roused, The dash of clouds, or irritating war
Of fighting winds, while all is calm below, They furious spring. A boding silence reigns, Dread through the dun expanse; save the dull sound That from the mountain, previous to the storm, Rolls o'er the muttering earth, disturbs the flood, And shakes the forest-leaf without a breath. Prone, to the lowest vale, the aerial tribes Descend: the tempest-loving raven scarce Dares wing the dubious dusk. In rueful gaze The cattle stand, and on the scowling heavens Cast a deploring eye; by man forsook, Who to the crowded cottage hies him fast, Or seeks the shelter of the downward cave.
'Tis listening fear, and dumb amazement all: When to the startled eye the sudden glance Appears far south, eruptive through the cloud; And, following slower, in explosion vast, The Thunder raises his tremendous voice. At first, heard solemn o'er the verge of heaven, The tempest growls; but as it nearer comes, And rolls its awful burden on the wind,
The lightnings flash a larger curve, and more The noise astounds: till over head a sheet Of livid flame discloses wide; then shuts, And opens wider; shuts and opens still Expansive, wrapping ether in a blaze. Follows the loosen'd aggravated roar, Enlarging, deepening, mingling; peal on peal Crush'd horrible, convulsing heaven and earth. Down comes a deluge of sonorous hail,
Or prone-descending rain. Wide-rent, the clouds Pour a whole flood; and yet, its flame unquench'd, The' unconquerable lightning struggles through, Ragged and fierce, or in red whirling balls, And fires the mountains with redoubled rage. Black from the stroke, above, the smouldering pine Stands a sad shatter'd trunk; and, stretch'd below, A lifeless group the blasted cattle lie:
Here the soft flocks, with that same harmless look They wore alive, and ruminating still
In fancy's eye; and there the frowning bull, And ox half-raised. Struck on the castled cliff, The venerable tower and spiry fane
Resign their aged pride. The gloomy woods Start at the flash, and from their deep recess, Wide-flaming out, their trembling inmates shake. Amid Carnarvon's mountains rages loud The repercussive roar: with mighty crush, Into the flashing deep, from the rude rocks Of Penmanmaur heap'd hideous to the sky, Tumble the smitten cliffs: and Snowden's peak, Dissolving, instant yields his wintry load. Far seen, the heights of heathy Cheviot blaze, And Thulè bellows through her utmost isles.
Guilt hears appall'd, with deeply troubled thought; And yet not always on the guilty head Descends the fated flash. Young Celadon And his Amelia were a matchless pair; With equal virtue form'd, and equal grace, The same, distinguished by their sex alone: Hers the mild lustre of the blooming morn, And his the radiance of the risen day.
They loved: but such the guileless passion was, As in the dawn of time inform'd the heart Of innocence, and undissembling truth. 'Twas friendship heighten'd by the mutual wish; The' enchanting hope and sympathetic glow Beam'd from the mutual eye. Devoting all To love, each was to each a dearer self; Supremely happy in the' awaken'd power Of giving joy. Alone, amid the shades, Still in harmonious intercourse they lived The rural day, and talk'd the flowing heart, Or sigh'd and look'd unutterable things.
So pass'd their life, a clear united stream, By care unruffled; till, in evil hour, The tempest caught them on the tender walk, Heedless how far and where its mazes stray'd, While, with each other bless'd, creative love Still bade eternal Eden smile around. Presaging instant fate her bosom heaved Unwonted sighs, and, stealing oft a look Of the big gloom, on Celadon her eye Fell tearful, wetting her disorder'd cheek. In vain, assuring love and confidence
In Heaven repress'd her fear; it grew, and shook Her frame near dissolution. He perceived The' unequal conflict; and as angels look On dying saints, his eyes compassion shed, With love illumined high. "Fear not," he said, "Sweet innocence! thou stranger to offence, And inward storm! He, who yon skies involves In frowns of darkness, ever smiles on thee With kind regard. O'er thee the secret shaft That wastes at midnight, or the' undreaded hour Of noon, flies harmless: and that very voice, Which thunders terror through the guilty heart, With tongues of seraphs whispers peace to thine. "Tis safety to be near thee sure, and thus To clasp perfection!" From his void embrace, (Mysterious Heaven!) that moment, to the ground, A blacken'd corse, was struck the beauteous maid. But who can paint the lover, as he stood,
Pierced by severe amazement, hating life, Speechless, and fix'd in all the death of woe! So, faint resemblance! on the marble tomb, The well dissembled mourner stooping stands, For ever silent and for ever sad.
As from the face of heaven the shatter'd clouds Tumultuous rove, the' interminable sky Sublimer swells, and o'er the world expands A purer azure. Through the lighten'd'air A higher lustre and a clearer calm, Diffusive, tremble; while, as if in sign Of danger past, a glittering robe of joy, Set off abundant by the yellow ray, Invests the fields; and nature smiles revived. 'Tis beauty all, and grateful song around, Join'd to the low of kine, and numerous bleat Of flocks thick-nibbling through the clover'd vale. And shall the hymn be marr'd by thankless Man, Most favour'd! who with voice articulate Should lead the chorus of this lower world; Shall he, so soon forgetful of the Hand
That hush'd the thunder, and serenes the sky, Extinguish'd feel that spark the tempest waked, That sense of powers exceeding far his own, Ere yet his feeble heart has lost its fears?
Cheer'd by the milder beam, the sprightly youth Speeds to the well known pool, whose crystal depth/ A sandy bottom shows. Awhile he stands Gazing the' inverted landscape, half afraid To meditate the blue profound below; Then plunges headlong down the circling flood. His ebon tresses and his rosy cheek
Instant emerge; and, through the' obedient wave, At each short breathing by his lip repell'd, With arms and legs according well, he makes, As humour leads, an easy-winding path; While, from his polish'd sides, a dewy light Effuses on the pleased spectators round. This is the purest exercise of health, The kind refresher of the summer heats;
Nor when cold Winter keens the brightening flood,
Would I weak-shivering linger on the brink. Thus life redoubles, and is oft preserved, By the bold swimmer, in the swift elapse Of accident disastrous. Hence the limbs Knit into force; and the same Roman arm, That rose victorious o'er the conquer'd earth, First learn'd, while tender, to subdue the wave. Even from the body's purity, the mind Receives a secret sympathetic aid.
Close in the covert of a hazel copse, Where winded into pleasing solitudes
Runs out the rambling dale, young Damon sat, Pensive, and pierced with love's delightful pangs. There to the stream that down the distant rocks Hoarse-murmuring fell, and plaintive breeze that play'd Among the bending willows, falsely he
Of Musidora's cruelty complain'd.
She felt his flame; but deep within her breast In bashful coyness, or in maiden pride, The soft return conceal'd; save when it stole In sidelong glances from her downcast eye, Or from her swelling soul in stifled sighs. Touch'd by the scene, no stranger to his vows, He framed a melting lay, to try her heart; And, if an infant passion struggled there, To call that passion forth. Thrice happy swain ! A lucky chance, that oft decides the fate Of mighty monarchs, then decided thine. For lo! conducted by the laughing Loves, This cool retreat his Musidora sought: Warm in her cheek the sultry season glow'd; And, robed in loose array, she came to bathe Her fervent limbs in the refreshing stream. What shall he do? In sweet confusion lost, And dubious flutterings, he awhile remain'd: A pure ingenuous elegance of soul,
A delicate refinement, known to few, Perplex'd his breast, and urged him to retire: But love forbade. Ye prudes in virtue, say, Say, ye severest, what would you have done? Meantime, this fairer nymph than ever bless'd
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