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Full text of "The poetical works of Thomas Moore"

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• • 



f 






f 



TUK 



POETICAL WORKS 



THOMAS MOORE. 



COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME. 



LONDON: 

rRIKTED FOR 

LONGMAN, BKOWN, GREEN, AND LONGMANS, 

PATKRNOSTEn-ROW. 

1849. 




Loikooii: 

Ml and Shaw. 
•tfMl-Sqa^ir*. 



TO THE 

marqIjis of lansdowne, 

IN GRATEFUL REMEMBRAJNCE OP * 
NEARLY FORTY YEARS OF MUTUAL ACQUAINTANCC 

AND FRIENDSHIP, 

THIS VOLUME 

IS INSCRIBED, 

WITH THE SINCEREST FEELINGS OP AFFECTION 

AND RESPECT, 

BY 

THOMAS MOORE. 



CONTENTS. 



Pkctacbs to tmb CoLLxcm Eninow i« Tbw Yoluius, fubluhid ik 1841, 1842 



FugtST. 



ODES OF ANACREON. 



Dcdiatian to bU Rojal Hlgfaaau tht Prion of WalM . 1 

AdvcrtiMiBeBt 1 

Index to the Odes 1 

Ab Ode by the TVanalator S 

CorrectiomorchepreeediBf Ode, tufgeMed bf an eod- 

nent Greek Scholar fl 

■cBBarkA OB Anacreon . S 



ODBS. 

I. I nwtbemlUnfflwrdorpleennv 
II. GivemetlieliafporepicMBg 

III. Listen to the Muae't lyre 

IV. Valcan ! hear your glorioai talk 
V. Sculptor, troukbt thy glad my tool 

TI. As late I sought the sfiangl'd bowers 
VIL The women tell ne erery daj 
VIII. I care not for the Idle state . 
IX. I pray thee, by the gods above 
X. How an I to punish thee 
I XI. ** Tell me gentle yoatb. I pray thee 

I XII. They tell how Atys. wild with lore 

I XIII. I wUI. I will, the conflict's past 

XIV. Count me, on the summer frees 
XV. THI me, why, my sweetest dove 
X V I. Thou, whose soft and rosy hues 
XVII. And now with an thy pencil's troth . 
XVllI. Nowthestarofdayishigh . 
XIX. Here recline you, gentle maid 
XX. One day the If OSes twin'd the hands 
XXI. Obverve when mother earth Is dry . 
XXI I. Tbe Phrygian rock, that braves the storm 

XXIII. I often wish this languid lyre 

XXIV. To all that breathe the air of heaven 
XX V. ODoe Id each revolving year . 

XXVI. Thy harp may sing of Troy's alarms 
XXVII. We read the flying courser's name . 
XXVIII. As, by his I^emnlan forge's flame 
XXIX. Yen —loving Is a painful thrill 

XXX. 'Twas in a mocking dream of night . 
XXXI. Arm'd with hyadnthlne rod . 
XXX 11' Strew me a fragment bed of leaves . 
XXX 1 1 f . 'Tvras noon of night, when round the pcrte 
XXX I V. Ob thou, of all cr«Btion Mctt 
XXXV. Cupi' oooe upon a bed 
XXXVI. If boarded gold posscss'd the power 
XXXVII. *T«aa night, and manj a circling bowl 
XXXVIII. L.«t OS drain the nectar'd bowl 
XXXIX. How Ilovethefssttveboy . 

X L- I know that Heaven hath sent me here 
XL.I. "Wbeo Spring adorns the dewy scene 
XI^II- Vee, be the glorious revel mine 
XLIII- V^'hlle our rosy fillets shed . 
XL,IV. Btids of roses, virgin flrmers . 

Xl^V. Wkhin this goMet, rich and deep 
XI« VI. Behold the joong, the rosy Spring 



Page 

XLVIt. *Tla trae» my fkding years deeUae . . i8 

XL VI II. When my thirsty soul I steep gg 

XLIX. When Bacchus. Jove's immortal boy gg 

L. When wlue I quafl; before ny eyas . S4 

LI. Fly not thus my brow of snow g4 

LII. Away. away, ye men of rules It 

LIII. When I behold the festive train . gg 

LEV. Methtakks. the pictured boU we lee . . gg 

LV. While we invoke the wreathed spring . 16 

LYt. He, who Instructs the yoothfbl crew 17 

LVII. Whose was the artist hand that spread It 

L VIII. When Gold, as fleet as ■ephyr'spiakNi . 19 

LIX Ripen'd by the solar beam . .19 

LX. Awake to life, my sleeping sheH . 40 

LXI. Youth's endearing charms are flad . 41 

LXI I. FlU me. boy. as deep a draught 41 

LXI IL To Love, the soft and blooming child 41 

LXI V. Haste thee, nymph, whose welUataaed spear 41 

LXV. Like some wanton flily sporting 41 

LX VI. To thee, the Queen of nymphs divine 41 

LX VII. Rteh in bliss, I proudly scorn . 41 

LX VIII. Now Neptune's mouth our sky defonat 41 

LXIX. They wove the lotus band to deck . 41 

LXX. A broken cake with honey sweet 44 

LXXI. With twenty chords my lyre Is hung 44 

LXXI I. Fare thee well, perfidious maid . 44 

LXXI 11. Awhile Ibloom'd a happy fiower 44 

LXXIV. Monarch Love, resistless boy .44 

LXX V. Spirit of Love, whose locks unroll'd 44 

LXX VI. Hither, genUe Muse of mine. . 45 

LXX VI I. Would that I were a tuneful lyre . 45 

LXX VIII. When Cupid sees how thickly now . .45 

Cupid, whose lamp has lent the ray .45 

Let me resign this wretched breath .45 

1 know thou lov'st a brimming measure . .45 

I fear that love disturbs my rest .45 

From dread Leucadia's fkvwning steep . .46 

Mix me, child, a cup divine .46 

BPIORAH8 raOH THE ANTHOtOOIA^ 

NoTici ....... 46 

AfTivmrfHi ^imfim, ut A*MS{«srr» .46 

Tw mttrtv, ut rm tutim .47 

Tsw tutrm, ut tm twrm ... 47 

T«r cenv, ut tm «vrw .48 

JUVENILE POEMS. 

Prefkce. by the Editor 49 

Dedication to Joseph Atkinson, Esq. . .80 

FragmenU of College Exercises . .11 

Is there no call, no consecrating cause .01 

Variety ftl 

ToaBoy with a Watch. Written for a friend . . 01 

Song 01 

To 51 

Song 01 

Song OS 



1. 



VI 



CONTENTS. 



Page 
Eeuben and Rom. A Ule of Romance . . ft8 

DM not M 

To 54 

To Mrs ., on lomo calumniet againit her 

character ...... M 

Anacreontic ....... M 

To 54 

To Julia. In allusion to some Illiberal criticisms . 56 

ToJuIU 55 

The Shrine. To . . . .66 

To a Lady, with some manuscript Poems, on leaYlng the 
country ....... 65 

To Julia 66 

To 66 

Nature's Lab^s. A (Iregraent . .66 

To Julia. On her birthday .... 67 

A Reflection at Sea 67 

Cloris and Fannj .....* 67 

The Shield 67 

To Julia, weeping . • • • .66 

Dreams. To . 66 

To Rosa. Written daring illness .... 66 
8oog 

80 
60 



The Sale of Lorea . . 

To 

To 

On the Death of a Lad J 

Inconstancy, . 

The Natal Gcnlos. A dream. Te . 

ing of her birthday 60 

Elegaic Stansas, supposed to be written by Julia, on the 

death of her brother 61 

To the Urge and beautlAil Miss n In allution 

to some partnership In a lottery share. Impromptu 61 

A Dream 69 

To . 6S 

Anacreontic ....... 62 

To Julia 63 

Hymn of a Virgin of Delphi, at the tomb of her mother 68 
Sympathy. To JoUa . .63 

The Tear ....... 63 

The Snake ....... 63 

To Rosa ....... 64 

RIeglAC Stanias ...... 64 

Love and Marriage ...... 64 

Anacreontic ....... 64 

Ttie Surprise ...... 65 

^To Mist , on her asking the author why she 

had sleepless nights . . » .66 

The Wonder ....... 66 

Lying 65 

Anacreontic ....... 65 

The Philosopher Arlstlppus to a Lamp, which had been 

given hira by Lais .66 

To Mrs , on her beautlftil translation of Vol- 

ture*s Kiss . .67 

Rondeau ....... 67 

Song ........ 68 

To Rosa ....... 68 

Written In a commonplace book, called ** The Book of 

Follies'* 68 

To Rosa 68 

Light sounds the Harp . . .60 

From the Greek of Mdeagef » . .60 

Song 60 

The Resemblance . 
Fanny, dearest 
The Ring. To ... . 
To the InvUlble Girl 
The Ring. A Ule . 



. 70 

. 70 

. . 70 

. 71 

. 78 

To , on sottatg her with a white veil 

ami a rirh girdle 75 



Page 

Written In the Uank leaf of a lady's oommooplace 

book 75 

To Mrs. Rl , written In her album . . .75 

To Can, after an Intenral of absence . .76 

To Can, on the dawning of a new year's day . 76 

To 1801 . . . .76 

The Genius of Harmony. An Irregular ode . . 77 

1 found her not — the chamber seem'd .79 

To Mrs. Henry TIghe, on reading her " Psyche " 79 

FromtheHighPricttofApoUo to a Virgin of Delphi . 80 

Fragment 81 

A Night Thought 81 

The Kiss 81 

Song • . . 81 

The Catalogue 83 

Imitation of Catullus to himself .... 83 

Oh woman, if through sinftil wile . • . .89 

Nonsense ....... 83 

Epigram, from the French . . . .83 

On a Squinting Poetess 83 

To 83 

To Rosa ....... 8S 

ToPhillis 83 

To a Lady on her singing . .83 
Song. On the birthday of Mrs . Written in Ire- 
land, 1799 84 



Song 84 

Morality. A familiar episUe. Addressed to J. Atkln- 

son. Esq. M. R. L A 84 

The Tell-tale Lyre 85 

Peace and Glory. Written oo the approach of war 86 

Song 86 

Love and Reason .87 

Nay, do not weep, my Fanny dear .87 

Aspasia ....... 88 

The Grecian Girl's Dream of the Rletsed Islands. To 

her lover - . .88 

To aoe, imitated from Martial . . 90 

The Wreath and the Chain ... .90 

To 90 

To '• Picture . . -91 

Fragment of a Mythological Hymn to Love * 91 

To his Serene Highness the Duke of Monpentsler, on 

his portrait of the l.^y Adelaide Forbes . 99 

Tlie Fall of Hebe. A dithyrambk ode . . .99 

Ring! and Seals 94 

To Miss Susan B— ckf—d. On her singing 95 

Impromptu, on leaving some friends . .95 

A Warning. To . . 96 

To 96 

Woman 96 

To 97 

A Vision of Philosophy 97 

To Mrs 100 

To Lady Ileathcote, on an old ring found at Tunbrldge 

Wells 100 

The Devil among the Scholars. A fragment . 101 



POEMS RELATING TO AMERICA. 

Dedication, to Francis, Earl of Moira . .104 

Preface . .104 

To Lord Viscount Strangford. Aboard the Pbaetoo 

frigate, oir the Aioree, by moonlight. . 105 

SUnsas 106 

To the Flying-flsh . .107 

To Miss Moore. From Norfolk, in Virginia. Nov. 1803 107 
A Ballad. The Lake of the Dismal Swamp. Written 

at Norfolk. In VIrgInU 1(8 

To the Marchiooeas Dowager of DoDCfal. From Ber- 

muda, January, 1804 .... 109 



CONTENT& 



▼n 



Tm Qmm^B Marfi. Ba^^ of Korfcit, Vligliili Vnm 

r. 1804 . IM 

MA . .111 

OicBtoKea: — 

Kaj. tcMpC OM Mt to lov* agiia .IIS 

I pr^ yoo, lat u* nMBiie OMira .US 

T«a read k In tbcM tpflO-boaBd afM . . IIS 

A DrMMOfAaUqiiiCy lU 

W<U — pme* to thy hent, thm^ M ttfc it*! It b» . lift 
If 1 vcro joader ««v«, aj dear . ... lift 

Tte Snow Spirit IW 

1 itolo atoog tte Sotpsry bank . .116 

A Sc«^ tnm tb« Antlqoo .117 

There's not a look. • word of tkkM .117 

To loMpb AtkfaMon. Baq. FroM BOTVodB . 118 

Tho Scooman't Soof . Writtan ahoafd ika Bofton 

fHsaCo.S8th of April 119 

TotheFiff«-«y ...... 119 

To the Lovd Vlacoant Forbos. FMathadlytrWaab. 

} infton 119 

. To ThooM Bonw. Baq. ICD. FMathacily oTWarii. 

I incton lis 

Unca vrittm on loarinf PhlUdcipbin . ISS 

Uncs wriom at the Cohoa, or Falla of the Motewk 

Hirer 1S« 

Soiw of the EtO Spirit of the Woods . 1S« 

To the Honourable W. B. Spancar. Fkws Battto. 

upon Lake Brie ISft 

Ballad StMUS 1S7 

A Canadian Boat Song. Writtan oo the Biver St. Law- 
renoe ....... 187 

To the Lidy Charlotte Bewdon. Fhn the banks of the 
8c Lavrenee .181 

teproaapto, after a Tisit Id Mrs .of Montreal . 188 

Written on paaimg Deadasaa's Island* la the Golf of St. 

Lavmce, late in the eveninf . Septaasbar. 1804 . 138 
To the Boston Frigate, on laaring Ualilka for Rnglandi 

1804 Ul 



COBBUFTION. AND INTOLEBANCBi 
Two Fouia. ADoacaaiD to am BnouaaiiAii bt am 



Conarmoii 
larroccaAVCc. A Satire 



ISS 
1S3 
1S9 
HI 



THE SCBFTIC, a PMimsopMcai. SsTtas 

TWOFENNY FOST-BAG. 
Bt TaoMAS Bhown t«b Tocnoia. 

ntdlftloo. To Stephen Woolriche, Esq. « 
PreCioe ...... 

Piv&ce to the Foortecnth Edltkni. By a Fridnd of 



147 
47 



148 



Imtsbcbpted LsniBBSt &c* 

Lsrm L FronitheF r n e ^ss Ch—ri— eof W.»4-a 

to the Lady B-rb-a AshLy .149 

IL Fratt Colonal M'M-b-Mi to 0-4d 
Fr 




iMnrnm. IV. Froas the Bight Hon. P^^r-ek D^ 
0B»^ to the Bight Bon. Sir l-MM-eh-l . 158 



Lsma V. Ftam the Culiw Oovragar of C— ik to 

Lady ISi 

F ps t s eri pt' . .184 

Lcnn VI. Fran AbdaOah. in London, to MohanM 

tai Ispahan 184 

Gasd 1S§ 

Lbttu VII. Fran Masan. L ck g t n and Co. 

to • Bsq 1S§ 

LBTTtt VIII. Fran Colonel Th m a to 

8k y .ngt n. Bag. .186 

Amnmx 187 

Latter IV. F^slSS. ISf 

Latter VIL Page ISft. lift 



8ATIBICAL AND HUMOBOUS FOBM8. 

The lasnrreetion of the Papers. A Draaai . 168 

Fiiwdy of a celsbrated Letter • . 161 

Anacreontic to a PluaiassJar .161 

BBtraeufromUwDlaryofaPolitkiaii . .168 

Bp%raai 164 

Ktm Crack aad bb Idols. Writtan after the late STago- 
tiatlon far a new M u s tij f . .164 

Whet*sByTh««htlike? 164 

Bpigraii. Dhdogoe between a Catholic Dekgato and 

His B^-y-l H-gfan-ss the D-eof Ch id 168 
Wieeths for the MfaUsters An Aneereonde . 168 

Bpigram. Dialogoe between a Dowager and her Maid 

on the Night of Lord T—nn—th*sF8te . 168 

Boraee. Ode XI. Lib. II. Freely translated by the 

Pr-ce B-HI-t lO 

Horace, Ode XXII. Lib. L Freely translated by Lord 

BkU-n 168 

The New Costame of the Ministars .167 

Gorrespondenee between a Lady and Gentlrman, npon 
the Advant^e of (what b called) ** baring Law on 

one'sSide** 168 

Oecasional Address for the Opening of the New Theatre 
of St. St p h n , intended to have been spoken by 
the Proprietor ta foil Costume, on the S4th of No- 

tcnber, 181S 168 

The Sale of the Toob 168 

Little Man and Uttle Sool. A Ballad. . .170 

Bdnforeemenu for Lord Wellington .170 

Horaca,Odel. Lib. III. A Fragment . .171 

Horace, Ode XXXVIIl. Lib. I. A Fn«ment. IVans- 
lated by a Treasury Clerk, wbHo halting Dfaurr 
for the Bight Hon. G—rge B—ea .171 

Impranpto. Upon being obiiged to Ica^ a rlraisnt 
Party, from the Want of a Pair Of Breeches to 

dress for Dfauer in 171 

Lord Wellington and the Mioistcrt .171 

lEISH MBLODIB8. 

Dedication to the MartbloneM Dowager of Donegal . 17S 

PreCMO I7S 

Go where Glory waits thee .178 

War Song. Bcmember the Glories of Brien the Brave 17S 
Erin I the Tear and the Smile in thine Eyes . ITS 

Ob, breathe not bit Name 17S 

When be, who adores tbee . . iTS 

The Harp that oiMte throogh Tara't Halls . 174 

Fly not yet 174 

Oh, thfaik not my Spirits are always as Hgbt . 174 
Tho' the last Glimpse of Erin with Sorrow t saa .17ft 
Bleb and rare were the Gems she Wore . .17ft 
As a Beam o*er the Face of the Waters maj glow . 17ft 
The Meeting of the Waters . 17» 
Bttw dear to toe the Boor 176 



TUl 



CONTENTS. 



Take back the Virgin Fage. Written on returning a 

bUnk Book . « 

Thel^gacj ...... 

How oft has the Benihoe cried 

We nuj roam through this World 

Breleen*! Bower ..... 

Let Erin remember the Daj» of old 

The Song of FionnuaU .... 

Come, tend round the Wine 

SubUroe wai the Warning .... 

Betlere me. If all thoee undearfaig young Charmt 
Brin, oh Brhi 



Page 



Ne'er aak the Hoar ... . . 101 

176 SaQ on. Mil on 101 

176 The Parallel SOI 

177 ! Drink of thit Cup SOS 

177 The Fortune-teller SOS 

177 I Oh. ye Dead SOS 

O'Donohue's MIftrett lOt 

Rcho S04 

Ob banquet not SOI 

Thee, thee, only thee S04 

Shnll the Harp then be allent . . S04 

Oh, the Sight entrancing SOft 

Sweet Innlsfvllen ' . SOS 

*Twas one of those Dreams .... STC 

Fairest ! put on awhile SOS 

Quick I we have but a Second . . SOT 

And doth nnt a Meeting like this . . . . SOT 

The MouiitAin Sprite . . . SOS 

A% TaiyiuUii'd Erin . . . . 906 

Desmond's Song . . . . SM 
They know nut my Heart . . .SOS 
I wish I was by that dim Lake 
She sung of Love . . . . . 
S\ng — sing— Moslc was given 



Drink to her. . ■ 180 

Oh, blame not the Bard % .180 

While gazing on tbo Moon's Liglit .181 

111 Omens . . .... 181 

Before the Battle 181 

After the Battle 161 

*Tts sweet to think 181 

The Irish Peasant to his Mistress . IRl 

On Music 16S 

It h not the Tear at this Moment slipd .183 

The Origin of the Harp .163 

Lore's Young Dream . .184 

The Prince's Day 184 I Tliough humble the Banquet 

Weep on. weep OQ 184 Sing, sweet Harp 

LesbU hath a beaming Eye . . 165 

I saw thy Form In youthful Prime .185 

By thsft Lake, whose gtoony Shore .165 

She b Car fh>m the Lnnd > .166 

Nqr, tell roe not, dear . .186 

Avenging and bright .187 

What the Bee Is to the Floweret . .187 

Love and the Novice 187 

This Life Is all chequer'd with Pleasures and Woes . 187 
Oh the Shamrock .188 

At the mid Hour of Night 188 

One Bumper at parting .189 

*Tls the last Rose of Summer .189 

The young May Moon .169 

The Minstrel. Boy 190 

The Song of O'Ruark, Prince of BreAil . .190 
Oh. bad we some bright little lile of ottr own . 190 
Farewril I-.: But whenever you welcome the Hour . 191 
Oh. doubt me not ITM 



SU9 



SIO 
SIO 
Sll 
Sll 

111 
111 



Song of the Battle Eve .... 

The wandering Bard 

Alone In Crowds to wander on . 

I've a Secret to tell thee Sll 

Song of Innisfall Ill 

The Night Dance ....*. SIS 
There are Sounds of Mirth . ,113 

Oh ! Arranmore, loved Arranmore . SIS 

Lay his Sword by his Side S14 

Oh, could we do with this World of ours . 114 

The Wine-cup Is circling . . . .114 



You remember Ellen .191 

I'd mourn the Hopea .191 

Come o'er the Sm . .19*2 

Has Sorrow thy young Days Aaded .191 

No. not more welcome . . .193 

When first I met thee . . . 19S 

While History's Muse » . \*M 

The Time I've lost In wooing .... H>4 

Where Is the SUve 194 

Come, rest In this Bosom • . . . . lU-'S 

'TIs gone, and for ever . . . .1!^ 

I saw from the Beach . . . » . 195 

FUi the Bumper fair IW ^ 

Dcnr Harp of my Country 196 

My gentle Harp 197 , 

In tne Morning of Life 197, 

As ftlow onr Ship . . . 19T j 

When cold In the Earth 166 

Remember thee . IS6 

Wreath the Bowl 196 

Whene'er I -see those smiling Ryes . 190 ' 

Ifthou'ltbemlue 199 

To Ladies* Eyes 190 

Forget not the Field WO 

They acay rail at this Life HID 

Oh for the Swords, of former Time . iOI 
Be henanus.and the Lady. *Jl 



The Dream of those Days . . .115 

From this Hour the Pledge is given . .215 

Silence Is in our fektal Halls . . .lift 

Appendix : 
Advertisement prefixed to the First and Second 
Numbers ...... 116 

Advertisement to the Third Number . .116 

Letter t« the Marclilonest Dowager of Donegal pre- 
fixed to the Tliird Number . .117 
Advertisement to the Fourth Number . .120 
Advertisement to the Fifth Number .121 
Advertisement to the Sixth Number . 221 
Advertisement to the Seventh Number . . 211 
Dedication to the Marchioness of Headfort prefixed 
to the Tenth Number ..... 222 

NATIONAL AIRS. 
Advertisement ...... SS3 

A Temple to Friendship. (Spanish Air) . 223 
Flow on. thou shining River. (Portuguese Air.) . 224 
All that's bright must fade. (Indian Air.) . 224 
So warmly we met (Hungarian Air.) .224 
Those Evening brlU. (Air The Bells of St. Peters- 
burgh.) 221 

Should th(»se fond Hopes. (Portuguese Air.) . . 225 

Reason. Folly, and Beauty. (Italian Air.) . l-.A 

Fare thee well. thcHi lovely one I (Sicilian Air.) . 22A 

Doat thou remember. (Portuguese Air.) . 226 

Oh, come to me when Daylight scU. ( Venetian Air) . 2^6 
Oft. \n the stilly Night. (Scotch Air.) . . iW 

Hark 1 the Vespar H)mn U stealing. (Ruasbm Air.) . t£R 
I^ve and Hope. (.Swiss Air.) .Til 

There comes a Time. (German Air.) .227 

My Harp has one unchanging Theme. (Swedish Air.) 227 



CONTENTS. 



IX 



Pige 
Ok. BO — not even when fint wo lor'd. (CaihoMriui 

Air.) W 

Moce be aroond tbM. (Sootcfa Air.) . 9M 

CoHBOO Sense and G«nios. (French Air.) . t9B 

TW*. £Br« tliee weU. (Old English Air.) . S» 

Gtf y MMBid* the CmtaaeC (BfaltCM Air.) . 229 

Lbvc ift « Hunter -boy. (Languedocion Air.) . SS9 

CooM. cliase that lUrtinf Tear away. (French Air.) . 239 
loy» oT Touih, how fleeting ; (Portaguese Air.) . S89 

Hear wic bat once. (French Air.) . S30 

▼hen Love waa a ChUd. (Swedish Air.) . S30 

Saf. what shall be OUT Sport to-day? (SidUan Air.) . S30 
Bright be thy Dreams. (Welsh Air.) . ..230 

Ga^then — tiavain. (Sicilian Air.) . SBI 

"ne Crystal Hunters. (Swiss Air.) . . S31 • 

Bow gently here. ( Venetian Air.) . tSl 

Oh, Days of Youth. (French Air.) . tSl 

When flrst that Smile. (Venetian Air.) . S32 

Pence to the Slomberers I (Catalonlan Air.) . . S33 

When tboa Shalt wander. (Sicilian Air.) . S3S 

Wholl b«^ my Love-knots ? (Portuguese Air.) . 232 

Sea, the Dawn from Heaven. (To an Air song at 

Boine. on Christmas Etc.) .... 233 
Vets and Cages. (Swedish Air.) .233 

When through the PiaaxetU. (Venetian Air.) . 233 

Go, now. and drenm. (Sicilian Air.) .234 

Tske hence the Bowl. (Neapollun Air.) .234 

FareweU, Theresa 1 (Vrnetian Air.) .234 

Bow oft, when watching Stars. (Savoyard Air.) . 234 

When the first Snnuner Bee. (German Air.) . . 235 

Though 'tis all but a Dream. (French Air.) . 235 

When tiM Wine-cap U smiling. (Itolian Air.) . . 23ft 

Where shall we bury our Shame ? (Me^ioUtan Air.) . 235 
S^er talk of Wisdom's gloomy Schools. (Mahratta 

Air.) '235 

Hcrw sleeps the Bard. (Highland Air.) . . 236 

Do not say that Life is waning .236 

TheGaselle S36 

No — leare my Heart to rest .236 

Where arc the Visions 237 

Wfad thy Horn, my Hunter Boy . .237 

Oh. gnard oar Affection . .237 

Slumber, oh slumber ... 237 

Bring the bright Garlands hither . .237 

If la loring. singing 236 

Thou lov'st no more . .238 

When abroad in the World .238 

Keep those Eyes still purely mine . .238 

Hope comes again ...... 238 

O say, thou best and brightest . .239 

WThcn Night brings the Hour . . . .239 

Like one who, doom'd 239 

Fear not that, while around thee . .239 

When Lots b kliMl. 240 

Tbe Garland I send thee 240 

How shall! woo? 240 

Spring and Antamn .240 
Loeeakne 241 



SACRED SONGS. 



241 

241 I 
942 I 

242 ! 



DedicatioQ to Edward Tulte Dalton, Esq. 

Tbott art, O God (Air. — Unknown.) . 

The Bird, let loose. (Air. — Beethoven.) 

Fallen Is thy Throne (Air. — MartinL) 

Who is the Maid ? St. Jerorae's Love. ( Air. — Beeth- 
oven,) 242 

This World is all a fleKing Show. (Air — Stevenson). 243 

Oil Thnn who dry'«l the Mourner's Tear. (Air.~ 

Haydn.) 243 

Weep not fpr those. (Air.— Arisen.) . .243 



Page 

The Turf shall be my fh^rantShrlML (Air. — Steran- 

•on.) t44 

Sound the load Timbrel Miriam's Song. (Air 

Avisou.) M4 

Go, let me weep. (Air. — Stevenson.) . .244 

Come not, O Lord. (Air. — Haydn.) .245 

Were not the sinful Mary's Tears. (Air. — Stevenson.) 245 
As down in the sunless Retreats. ( Air. — Haydn.) . 245 
But who shall see. (Air.— Stevenson.) . 245 

Almighty God. Chorus of PriesU. (Air. — Moaart. ) 246 
Oh fkir I oh purest I Saint Augustine to his Sister. 

(Air — Mooce.) 246 

Angel of Charity. (Air.— Handel.) . . .246 
Behold the Sun. (Air. — Lord Mornington.) . . 247 
Lord, who shall bear rhat Day. (Air. —Dr. Boyce.) . 247 
Oh. teach me to love Thee. (Air. — Haydn.) . . 247 
Weep. Children oflsrael. (Air — Stevenson.) . 248 
Like Morning, when her early Breese. (Air.— Beeth- 
oven.) 248 

C!ome, ye disconsolate. (Air. — German.) . 248 

Awake, arise, thy Light is come. Air.— Stevenson. . 248 

There is a bleak Desert. (Air Crescentini.) . 249 

Shice first Thy Word. (Air — Nicholas Freeman.) . 249 
Haik! 'tis the Breese. (Air. — Rousseau.) . 2fi0 

Where is your Dwelling, ye sainted ? ( Air. — Haite.) 250 

How lightly mounts the Muse's Wing. (Air Aiitniy- 

mous.) ....... 250 

Go forth to the Mount. (Air. — Stevenson.) . 251 

b it not sweet to think, hereafter. ( Air — Haydn.) . 251 
War against Babylon. (Air. — Novello.) . . 251 

The Summer Ftee . .252 

Dedication to the Honourable Mrs. Norton . 252 



EVENINGS IN GREECE. 



First Evening 
Second Evening 



262 

270 



LEGENDARY BALLADS. 

Dedication to the Miis Fieldings . . .280 

The Voice 280 

Cupid and Psyche 280 

Hero and Leander . . . . .281 

The Leaf and the Fountain . . . .281 

Cephalus and Procrls . . . .292 

Youth and Age 282 

The dying Warrior . . . . . .282 

The Magic Mirror 283 

The Pilgrim 283 

The high-born Ladye 283 

The Indian Boat 284 

The Stranger . . . . .284 

A Melologue upon National Music . . .285 

Advertisement 285 

SET OF GLEES. 

MrSIC BY UOOBI. 

The Meeting of the Ships . . . . .287 

Hip, hip. hurrah I 2W 

Hush, hush I 2^ 

The Parting before the Battle . .288 

The Watchman. A Trio . . . . .288 

Say, what shall we dance ? . .... 288. 

Tlie Evening Gun . . . . . .289 

BALLADS, SONGS. MISCELLANEOUS 
POEMS. Ac 

To-dar. dearest ! it ours ..... 7!*^ 
When on the Lip the Sigh delays . . . . 2<)9 



CONTENTS. 



Here, take mj Heart 

Oh, call it by some better Name 

Poor wounded Heart 

The East Indian 

Poor broken Flower 

The pretty Rose Tree 



Page 

. S90 
. S90 
. S90 
. S90 
. S90 
. S91 

Shine oat, SUrs I 991 

The young Muleteers of Grenada . .991 

Tell her, oh, teU her S9I 

NighU of Music 199 

Our first young Love ..... Wi 

Black and Blue Byea 999 

Dear Fanny ....... 999 

From Life without Freedom .993 

Here's the Bower .999 

I saw the Moon rise clear. (A Finland Loto Song) . 993 
Lore and the Sun>dial .993 

Love and Time 993 

Love's light Summer-cloud .994 

Love, wand'ring through the golden Mase . 994 

Merrily every Bosom boundeth. (The Tyrolese Song 

of Liberty) 994 

Remember the Timei (The Castilian Maid) . 995 

Oh, soon return ...... 995 

Love thee? ....... 995 

One dear Smile .995 

Yes, yes, when the Bloom ..... 996 

The Day of Love .996 

Lusitanian War-iong .996 

The young Rose .996 

When 'midst the Gay I meet .296 

When TwUlght Dews 997 

Young Jessica .297 

How happy, once .297 

I love but thee .997 

Let Joy alone be remember'd now .998 

Love thee, dearest y love thee? . . 99A 

My Heart and Lute 99A 

Peace, peace to him that's gone I . .998 

Rose of the Desert 999 

*Tis all for thee 999 

The song of the Olden Time .999 

Wake thee, my dear .999 

The Boy of the Alps 800 

For thee alone .800 

Her last Words, at parting .800 

Let's take this World as some wide Scene . 801 

Love's Victory 801 

Song of Hercules to his Daughter .801 

The Dream of Home .809 

They teU me tbou'rt the (kvour'd Guest . .809 

The young Indian Maid 809 

The Homeward March 809 

Wake up, sweet Melody 80S 

Calm be thy sleep 80S 

The Exile 803 

The Fancy Fair 803 

If thou wouldst hare me sing and play . .304 

Still when Daylight 804 

The Summer Webs 804 

Mind not though DayUght 804 

They met but once . .805 

With Moonlight beaming 805 

Child's Song. From a Masque .805 

The Halcyon hangs o'er Ocean .... 805 

The World was httsh'd 805 

The two Loves ...... 106 

The Legrad of Puck the Fairy . .806 

Beauty and Song .807 

When thou art nigh . . 807 | 

Song of a Hyperborean .207 

Tboa bkbt nse sf ng .807 



Page 
Cupid armed .SOS 

Round the World goes .806 

Ob, do not look so bright and blest .808 

The Musical Box ...... 809 

When to sad Music silent yon listen .SOS 

The Language of Flowers . . . . « ags 

The Dawn is breaking o'er us . . ' . .SOS 



BONGS FROM THE GREEK ANTHOLOGY. 

Here at thy Tomb. (By Meleager) .810 

Sale of Cupid. (By Meleager) .810 

To weave a Garland for the Roae. (By Paul, the Sl- 

lentiary) 810 

Why does site so long delay? (By Paul, the Silentiary) 811 
Twin'st thou with lofty Wreath thy Brow. (By Paul 

the Silentiary) .811 

When the sad Word. ( By Paul, the Silentiary) . 811 

My Mopsa is lltUe. (By Phllodemui) .319 

Still, Uke Dew in silence (ailing. (By Meleager) . 319 

Up, Sailor Boy, 'tis Day . . .819 

In Myrtle Wreaths. (By Alcseus) .819 



UNPUBLISHED SONGS. Ac. 

AsknotifstUlIlove SIS 

Dear ? yes 313 

Unbind thee. Love 313 

There's somKhlng strange. (A Buflb Song) . 314 

Not from thee .814 

Guess, guess .314 

When Love, who rul'd 814 

Still thou fliest . . .315 

Then first tnm Love . .315 

Hush, sweet Lute 815 

Bright Moon 816 

Long Years have pass'd ..... 816 

Dreaming for ever ...... 316 

Though lightly sounds the Song I sing. (A Song of the 

Alps) 316 

The Russian Lover . .817 

LALLA ROOKH. 

Dedication 317 

Thb Vkilso PaoPHBT or Kborassan .890 

Pabadisb and tub Pkbi .850 

Tbb FiBB-WoasHiPpaaa . 3A9 

Thb Light or thb IIabbu . .386 



POLITICAL AND SATIRICAL POEMS. 

Lines on the Death of Mr. P— re— v-1 . .899 

Fum and Hum. the Two Birds of Royalty . 899 

Lines on the Death of Sh— r d n .400 

Epistle tnm Tom Crib to Big Ben, concerning some 
foul Play in a late Transaction .401 



THE FUDGE FAMILY IN PARIS. 

Preface 

Letter 1. From Miss Biddy Fudge to Miss Dorothy , 

of Clonkilty, in Ireland 
Letter II. From Phil. Fudge. Esq. to the Lord Vis- 
count C S t r— gh ..... 
Letter 111. From Mr. Bob Fudge to Richard ^-« Esq. 

I^etter IV. From Phellm Connor to 

Letter V. Frtm Miss Biddy FUdge to Mlti DoroCby 



409 
403 



404 
406 






CONTENTS. 



Pagt 
I^Btter VI. From Ptill. Fudge, En). t9 bU Bratber Tim 

FtiJte, E^. B«rrlflcr at Liw , .411 

L«tier VII. FVonFlMllBCDiinurto^ . 411 

L«ttrr VliL Ffon Mr, Boto fMffv to RicHttfd , 

Kmi 4)6 

Letter tX. From Phil. Fudfe, Eiq. to tli« Lard Vts- 

Muat C-4t— r—h . * 4J8 

Letter X. From MIm Bkldy Fud^e to M(tt Dorutbj 

....... 4SI 

Lrtler XI Froto PheUm Cimnor to . 4M 

Letirr XII. Frwa MIti fikidy Fixlge to Miu Dofothf 

44ft 



FABLES FOR THE HOLY ALLUKCE. 



To Lord Bf roa . 
Fable 1. Tb« DIwoIuUod of 0^ Holy 



Fable II. Tb* Looktuf-f Li«ic« 
F«Me UL The Torch of Hbertjr . 
Fable IV. Tile F)y and Uie DuUodt 
Fable V. Church and Stite 
Ffthle VL The LflUe Grand Lama 
FatOe VII. The ExUtiguisberv . 
Fable VIIL Louli FoartecnUiV Wif 



RHTMES ON TItf! ROAD. 



AlUaikc*. A 



liitraddeloiy BlifiBca 
Extntt I. 
Kmrraet 11. ' 
EUrae« fit. 
extract IV. 
l«trK« V. . 

lUfwt VIL 
turaet VJII. 
Batraet IX. . 
Ettrvrt X. . 
ftaeract XI 



( ■ 



t V V r 



4W 
4tt 

4» 

431 
43S 
431 
434 

41t6 

or 



. 439 

. 441 

. 441 

. 442 

. 443 

. 443 

. 414 

. 4« 

. 44A 

. H7 

. 44H 

. 44% 

, 4t'J 

. 450 

. 4M 

. 4M 

. 4M& 



UtSCKLLAS'EOl'S POFIMS. 

r ftpilAfw^, ipnkMi tfjp Mr. Corry. lo itw Chii- 
raner of V«|M. after the VImj of ili« DramatUt* at 

tfce KObcwof Ttieafre 4S6 

Csbact fr«m a Protoftoe irrttten and i|»r«lMin hj tho 
AmlMr, at tbe Opealnf of tbo Kllkciinf Th^trr, 

October, IMA 4^7 

TIM Sf lpto*B frdi 4.>7 

PiiniiifMw . , , is» 

VriMfib-^ ... 4^ 

Fteey 4m 

UMif. F«tiii]r« 4l«iBr««t t * 4riQ 

TiMMlattpne INhh Catollui .... 4ri(i 

tlMlot 19 SulpMA 4^;r) 

lHlta0^. Fr«« Ibe Ffforh . 4M 

l^aiBiioii |4» Dtooer . aJdrp«M<*1 lo Ti^vrd l^iriMlowne . 4GI 
TariM lo tbe Poel Crabbe't IfikftUmd, Wriurri Majr, 

■Oi ...... 461 

T» Carotltie, VUraunteM ValMort. Written at Lacock 

AH^, January I <a3 . . . . 4G> 

M U la miaHau 4^9 

T» M^ Mgiher. Writlaa In t Pocket Bdoik l«tl . 4/a 

t«e« MM tt|tteii 4G3 

LkMttMtkoialrrof tba AmtrUmelntoNa^ea, im . 4C3 



THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. 



Preface 

FlTrt ADfel'i Story 
Sacoiut Angel'* Ktory 
Thtrd Angeri Story 



Fate 
. 464 
. 466 
, 471 
. 4fta 



MISCKLLAtlBOUS POEMS. 



A Joke ir«filt«4 . .486 

OntbeDeiCliofaFrleiid , . .486 

To Jaiaes Corry. Em|., on bU making me a Preeent of 

a Wliw Strainer , » . . .486 

Fragment of a Character . . . . .487 

What I hall I ilng Thee? To . , .487 

Country Dan«e and Quadrille .... 480 

Gaael 4m 

Liuet on the De«ih of Joii^b Atklbton, Eaq. of Dubtio 4*J0 
Genlui and Crltfd»m . . , 4W 

To Lady J • r • • y» on being a«ked to write lomcthiug 

In her Aitmm , . . . .491 

Tb the lame, on looking through her AU)um . . 4^1 

SATIRICAL AND HUMOROt^S POEMS. 

To Sk Hodsoti Lowe . . . . .401 

Amatory Colloquy between Bank and OoYennoont . 4!)2 
Dialogue betwern a Sovereign and a One Pouod Note 4ifl 
An ExpottuiMtioti to Lord King . . . .493 

The Sinking Fund cried . . . 41J4 

Ode to the Goddeii Cere*. By Sir Tii'-m— a L^tb- 

br— e ....... 41M 

A H^mn of Welcome after the Receii . « . 49h 

MemorKbklia of J^iit Week .... 4*K» 

All In the Family Way. A new Pastoral Balkd . 4'jn 

Ballad Tur the Cambridge Election . . . 4U7 

Mr. Roger Dodiwortb , . . , . 4Vf 

Cvjiy of axi totercepted Detpatck From hU EicelleiKy 

Don Strepitoeo Dkbolo^ En^oy E&traordlnary to 

hli Satanic M^ietly . . . . .498 

The Millennium. $ugfe«ted by the late Work of the 

RpTcrend Mr. Irv—ng'* on Prophecy" ♦ . 4ro 

Tbe Three Doctor* . . . . 4MI 

Epitaph on a TafUHttnier .... a(X» 

Ode to a Hat . . .8410 

New* for iouqtry Couatna . * . . .801 

A VUion. By tive AiitliororChH»l«btl . 8CS 

The Petiticin of the Orasiffamca of Ireland . . 809 

Cottoo and Com, A Dialogue . . . S«5 

The Canotiitatton of Saint B— tt— rw-.rth . f*>i 

Aq Incantatluti. Bang by the Bubhlv Spirit . . AOa 

A Dream of Turtle. By Sir W. CurtU . . .508 

I'he Donk«y and hi* Panitiert. A Fahle . 80ft 

0<le to the SiiMtme Port« . . . . .800 

Corn and Catholic* . . . . 8fl7 

ACa«eofUbel . , ... 80? 

Literary Adrertitemenl , . . Hm 

Tbe Irbh Slave «9 

Ode to Fordinand . . . . . .810 

Itat ?cr>iu WlK « « . ... 810 

Thf Perlwiokiet and the Locuita. A Salmacuodllait 

Hymn 8H 

New Cri^ation of Peert. Baleh tli« Flrtt . . M9 

Spesch on the Umbrella Queetloii, By Lord EVl— n . 813 
A Pailnral Ballad. By John Bull * * .818 

A late Scene 18 Swaoage . .814 

Wu t Wo { . * . .814 

Totit pour la Tript . . , . 8)8 

Enlgnaa ....... 818 

DogHlay R«llortloni. By a Daodf k«9l tn Town , 814 



xu 



CONTENTS. 



Pace 

Th«" Living Dog** and tli««*TlMl>«MlLloo'* . 617 

Oda to DoD Miguel .517 

Thoughu oo the preient Gorernnient of Ireland . 518 

The Limbo of lout RepatatloiM. A Dream . 618 

How to write by Proxy ..... 519 
Imitation of the Inferno of Dante . .590 

Lament for the LoM of Lord B—tb--«t*t TaU . . 6S1 

The Cheniei. A Parable .621 

Stansai written In Anticipation of Defbat . 5S2 

Ode to the Woods and Forettt. By one of the Board . 523 
Stantas (hmi the Banks of the Shannon . . 62S 

The Annual PiU 624 

"lf"and"Perhapt- 624 

Write oo. Write on. A Ballad . .626 

Song of the departing Spirit of Tithe .626 

The Enthanaila of Van .526 

To the Reverend . One of the tlxteen Itequlsl- 

UonlftU of NotUngham .627 

Irish Antlqultlea 627 

A curious Fact .628 

New-fashioned Echoes 52B 

incantatioa From the New Tragedy of ** The Brans- 

wickers** 629 

How to make a good Politician .630 

Epistle of Condolence. From a Slare-Lord, to a Cotton- 

Lord 630 

The Ghost of Mlltiades 631 

Alarming Intelligence — Revolution In the Dictionary 

— OneGirirattheHeadoflt .632 

Resolutions passed at a late Meeting of Reverends and 

Right Reverends .632 

Sir Andrew's Dream .633 

A Blue Love-Song. To Mlsa —^ .634 

Sunday Ethics. A Scotch Ode . . . .634 

Awful Event .636 

The numbering of the Clergy. Parody on Sir Charies 

Ilan. Williams's Cunous Ode .635 

A sad Case 636 

A Dream of Illndostan 636 

The Brunswick Club .637 

Proposals for a Gynaeocracy. Addressed to a late 

Radical Meeting 637 

Lord H— nl— y and St. CecUla . .638 

Advertisement . . .639 

Missing 639 

The Dance of Bishops { or, the E|>lseopal Quadrille. A 

Dream .640 

Dick****. A Character .640 

A corrected Report of some late Speeches .641 

Moral Positions. A Dream , .643 

The Mad Tory and the Comet Founded oo a late dis- 
tressing Incident .642 
From the Hon. Henry ^— ^ to Lady Bmma— — . 643 
Triumph of Bigotry .644 
Translation from the Gull I^angoage . M4 
Notions on Reform. By a Modem Refbnner . . M.) 
Tory Pledges .646 
St Jerome oo Earth. First Visit .646 
St. Jerome on Earth. Second Visit .647 
Thoughu on Tar Barrels. (Vide Description of a late 

F*te) 648 

The Consultation 648 

To the Rev. Ch-rUs Ov.4t-n, Curate of Romaldkirk . 640 
Scene from a Play, acted at Oxford, called ** Matricula- 

Uoo" 549 

lAte Tithe Case 6A0 

Fools* Paradise. Dream the First . 6.V) 

The Rector and his Curate } or. One Pound Two . 6.M 
Paddy's Metamorphosis . . M3 

Cocker, on Church Reform. Founded upon some Ute 

Calculations . . . . . . 6.'i2 

I.,«s Hommet Automates . . 6A3 



PM« 

How to make One's Self a Peer. Aocordlng to the new. 

est Receipt as disclosed in a late Heraldic Work . 66t 

The Duke is the Lad 664 

Epistle from Erasmus on Earth to Cicero In the Shades 654 
Lines on the Departure of Lords C - st— r - g fa and 

St— w—rt for the Continent . .566 

To the Ship in which Lord C— st— r— gh sailed fbr the 

Continent 56C 

Sketch of the First Act of a new Romantic Drama . 667 

Animal Magnetism 666 

The Song of the Box .666 

Announcement of a New Thalaba. Addressed to Robert 

Southey, Esq. 659 

Rival Topics. An Extravagania .660 

The Boy Statesman. By a Tory .660 

Letter fhnn Larry O'Branigan to the Rev. Murtagh 

O'Mulligau 661 

Musings of an Unreformed Peer . .661 

The Reverend Pamphleteer. A Romantic Ballad . 562 

A Recent Dialogue 662 

The Wellington Spa 663 

A Character 663 

A Ghost Story 664 

Thoughts on the late destmctlve Propositions of the 

Tories. By a Common-Coundlman . 664 

Anticipated Meeting of the British Association In the 

Year 2836 AHA 

Songs of the Church. Na L . .666 

Epistle from Henry of Ex— t— r to John of Tuam . 607 

Song of Old Puck 667 

Police Reports. Case of Imposture .668 

Reflections. Addressed to the Author of the Article ot 

the Church in the last Number of the Quarterly 

Review 569 

New Grand Exhibition of Models of the two Houses of 

Parliament .609 

Announcement of a new grand Acceleration Company 

for the Promotion of the Speed of Literature . 670 

Some Account of the late Dinner to Dan .671 

New Hospital for Sick Literati .672 

Religion and Trade 672 

Musings, suggested by the late Promotion of Mrs. Ne- 

thercoat ....... 673 

Intended Tribute to the Author of an Article In the 

last Number of the Qturterly Review, entitled " Ro- 
manism in Ireland ** . . 673 
Grand Dinner of Type and Co. A poor Poet's Dream ft74 
Church Extension . . . . .576 
Latest AccounU from Olympus . .876 
The Triumphs of Farce .676 
Thoughts oo Patrons. Pu<ll^ and other Matters. In an 

EpisUe from T. M. to S. R 677 

Thoughts on Mischief. By Lord St— nl— y. (His first 

Attempt in Verse) .678 

Epistle from Captain Rock to Lord I.*— ndh— t . . 679 

Captain Rock In lA>ndao. Letter from the Captaku to 

Terry Alt, P^ 680 

THE FUDGES IN ENGLAND; 

BIIKO A SBQtTXI. TO TBB ** FCDOB FAMILT IN PABIS." 



Preface ....... 

I^tcr I. From Patrick Magan, Esq., to the Rev. 

Richard . Curate of , in Ireland 

Letter II. From Miu Biddy Fudge, to Mrs. Elisabeth 

l^etter III. From Miss Fanny Fudge, to her Cousin. 

I Miss Kitty Stansas (inclosed) to my Sha- 

I dow ; or. Why ?— What ?— How 7 . 

I Letter IV. From Patrick Magan. Esq. to the Rev. 

I Richard . . . . 



681 



CONTENTS. 



xiii 



rV. V^raBiL0r]rO*BraDitn,lBBotiand,toliit 
Wiii Joiy, at MnlUiia&d .... 
LattOTVI. From MiM Biddy Fodf^ to Mn-EUsalMCh 



' VIL Fwvm Wm Fany Fndgs, to her Cousin, 
tUm KUty Irregnlar Odo . K9 

Letter VllL FromBobFtMlte,B«|.totkoRer.lfbr. 
tiMv 0*11 idUgan 8M 

LMcrlX. Froa Lvry 0*Branisa to hit Wife, Judy fiM 

LMcrX. Froaitb«B«T.llortiaorO'Miillign.totlio 

B*r. S88 

LMtcr XL Fran Patrick lfj««a. Baq. to tlie Rov. 



SONGS raoM M. P. s op, THE BLUB STOCKING. 



BoiCCIao 
Ca|dd*s Lottarjr 



en 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

Atniflit 

To L«ly HoUud. On Napolaoa*! LcfMy of a 

Box 

Epilogno. Writtn for LMy Dna«*t Trafo4y of im 
TboDqr-DrMm ..... 
Soof 



P*ft 



on 



Soof of Um Foeo-canmto Socioty 
AnseBolcyn. Translation firon tlM metrioa ** Hialoiro 
d'Anne Boleyn ** ..... 

The Dresaoftlio Two Sisters. FromDanto. 
Soverricn Womad. A Ballad .... 
Cooo. play me that simple Air afaia. A Ballad 

THE EPICUREAN: A Talb .... 
ALCIPHRON : a Fbaom 
GiNBaAi. iMoax 



PREFACES 



TO 



THE COLLECTED EDITION OF TEN VOLUMES, 

PUBLISHED IN 1841, 184S. 



PREFACE 

TO 

THE FIRST VOLUME. 

Fmraso it to be tlie wish of mj Pablishen 
tbat at least the earlier Tolmnes of this ool- 
lection sbonld each be accompanied bj some 
prefatory matter, illnstrating, bj a few bio- 
graphical memoranda, the pr ogr c ae of my 
hmnble literary career, I hare consented, 
dioagfa not, I confess, withoat some scrapie 
and hesitation, to comply with their request. 
In no country is there so mnch cariosity felt 
respecting the interior of the lires of pnUic 
men as in En^and; but, on the other hand, 
in no country is he who yentores to tell his 
own story so little nfe from the impntation of 
Tanity and self-di^ilay. 

The whole of the poems contained in the 
first, as well as in the greater part of the 
second, Tolume of this collection were written 
between the sixteenth and the twenty-third 
year of the anthor*s age. Bat I had began 
sdU earlier, not only to rhyme bat to pablish. 
A sonnet to my schoolmaster, Mr. Samael 
Whyte, written in my fourteenth year, ap- 
peared at the time in a Dublin magazine, 
called the Anthologia, — the first, and, I fear, 
almost only, creditable attempt in periodical 
literature of whidi Irdand has to boast. I had 
eren at an earlier period (1793) sent to thb 
two short pieces of Terse, prefaced 



ootkm of thfi tect hM M tte writer of a 

to tb« " Fodut Iditioa '* of aqr POMas, 

to ilata tkat Brintky 




by a note to the editor, reqaesting the inser- 
tion of the ** following attempts of a yoathful 
muse;** and the fear and trembling with which 
I Tentured upoa thb step were agreeably dis- 
pelled, not only by the appearance of the con- 
tribatioDs, but stfll more by my finding mysdf^ 
a few months after, hailed as ** Our esteemed 
correspondent, T. M." • 

It was in the pages of this publicatioa, — 
where the whole of the poem was extracted, — 
that I first met with the Pleasures of Memory ; 
and to this day, when I open the Tolume of 
the Anthologia which contains it, the yery 
form of the type and colour of the paper brings 
back yividly to my mind the delight with which 
I first read that poem. 

My schoolmaster, Mr. Whyte, thoogh amus- 
ingly Tain, was a good and kind-hearted man ; 
and, as a teacher of public reading and elocu- 
tion, had long enjoyed considerable reputa- 
tion. Nearly thirty years before I became his 
pupil, Richard Brinsley Sheridan, then about 
eight or nine years of age, had been placed by 
Mrs. Sheridan under his care*; and, strange 
to say, was, after about a year's trial, pro- 
nounced, both by tutor and parent, to be ** an 
incorrigible dunce.** Among those who took 
lessons from him as pnTate pupils were scTcral 
young ladies of rank, belonging to some of 
those great Irish families who still continued to 
lend to Ireland the enliTcning influence of 
their presence, and made their country-seats, 
through a great part of the year, the scenes of 

tutor I— ** Great atttttSoo vat paid to Us adacallop by Us 



XVI 



PREFACE. 



refined as well as hospitable festivity. The ] 
^liss Montgomerys, to whose rare beauty the 
|)encil of Sir Joshua has given immortality, 
were among those whom my worthy preceptor 
most boasted of as pupils ; and his description 
of them, I remember, long haunted my boyish 
imagination, as though they were not earthly 
women, but some spiritual ^ creatures of the 
element.** 

About thirty or forty years before the 
period of which I am speaking, an eager taste 
for pf ivate theatrical performances had sprung 
up among the higher ranks of society in Ire- 
land ; and at Carton, the seat of the Duke of 
Leinster, at Castletown, Marley, and other 
great houses, private plays were got up, of 
which, in most instances, the superintendence 
was entrusted to Mr. Whyte, and in general 
the prologue, or the epilogue, contributed by 
his pen. At Marley, the seat of the Latouches, 
where the masque of Comus was performed in 
the year 1776, while my old master supplied 
the prologue, no less distinguished a hand than 
tha* of our *• ever-glorious Grattan*," fur- 
nished the epilogue. This relic of his pen, 
too, is the more memorable, as being, I believe, 
the only poetical composition be was ever 
known to produce. 

At the time when I first began to attend his 
school, Mr. Whyte still continued, to the no 
small alarm of many parents, to encourage a 
taste for acting among his pupils. In this line 
I was long his favourite tAow-scholar ; and 
among the play-bills introduced in his Tolume, 
to illustrate the occasions of his own prologues 
and epilogues, there is one of a play got up in 
the year 1790, at Laily Borrowes^s private 
theatre in Dublin, where, among the items of 
the evening's entertainment, is ** An Epilogue, 
A Squeeze to St Pmd'g, Master Moore.** 

With acting, indeed, is associated the very 
first attempt at verse-making to which my me- 
mory enables me to plead guilty. It was at a 
period, I think, even earlier than the date last 
mentioned, that, while passing the summer 
holidays, with a number of other young people, 
at one of those bathing-plaoes, in the neigh- 
bourhood of Dublin, which afibrd such fresh 
and healthfU retreats to its inhabitants, it was 
proposed among us that we should combine 
together in some theatrical performance ; and 

• BfTOB. 



thc^ Poor Soldier and a Hariequin Pantomime 
being the entertainments agreed upon, the parts 
of Patrick and the Motley hero fell to my share. 
I was also encouraged to write and recite an 
appnipriate epilogue on the occasion ; and tlie 
following lines, alluding to our speedy return 
to school, and remarkable only for their having 
lived so long in my memory, formed part of 
this juvenile efibrt : — 

Our PanUlooQ, who did to aged look. 

Miut now mumc hU youth, his task, his book : 

Our Harlequin, who skipp'd, laugh*d, danc'd and dM, 

Must now stand trembling by his master's side. 

I have thus been led back, step by step, 
from an early date to one still earlier, with the 
view of ascertaining, for those who take any 
interest in literary biography, at what period I 
first showed an aptitude for the now common 
craft of verse-making; and the result is — so 
far back in childhood lies the epoch — that I 
am really unable to say at what age I first be- 
gan to act, sing, and rhyme. 

To these different talents, such as they were, 
the gay and social habits prevailing in Dublin 
afibrded frequent opportunities of display; 
while, at home, a most amiable father, and a 
mother such as in heart and head has rarely 
been equalled, furnished me with that purest 
stimulus to exertion — the desire to please 
those whom we, at once, most love and most 
respect It was, I think, a year or two after 
my entrance into college, that a masque written 
by myself, and of which I had adapted one of 
the songs to the air of Haydn*8 Spirit-Song, 
was acted, under our own humble roof in 
Aungier Street, by my elder sister, myself, 
and one or two other young persons. The 
little drawing-room over the shop was our 

grand place of representation, and young , 

now an eminent professor of music in Dublin, 
enacted for us the part of orchestra at the 
piano-forte. 

It will be seen from all this, that, however 
imprudent and premature was my first appear- 
ance in the London world as an author, it is 
only lucky that I had not much earlier assumed 
that responsible character; in which case the 
public would probably have treated my nursery 
productions in much the same manner in which 
that sensible critic, my Uncle Toby, would 
have disposed of the **work which the great 
Lipmus produced on the day he was bom.** 



PEEFACE, 



xvu 



While thus tbe turn I had so earlj shown 
for ihjme ami song was, bj the gay and 8o- 
(OaibUe cirde in which I Uyed, called so en- 
eooragioglj into pUj, a far deeper feelmg — 
andt I should hope, power ^waj at the same 
^me awakened in me by the mighty change 
tlmi working in the political aspect of Europe, 
and tke stirring influence it had begun to ex- 
erciae on thie spirit and hopes of Ireland. Bom 
of Catholic parents, I had come into the world 
wttk the shiFe^s yoke around my neck ; and it 
was all in Tsin that the fond ambition of a 

looked forward to the Bar us opening 

thai might lead her son to honour and 
Against the young Papist all suub 

to distinction were closed ; and even 
tiw UniTersity, the profeascd source of public 
edoflatkni, waa to him *^a fountain sealed.** Can 
waj ooe now wonder that a people thus wronged 
■ad trampled upon should have hailed the first 
diziliiig outbreak of the French Revolution 
■• ft Jf^SAl to the slave, wherever sutfering, 
Ihmt the cLay of his deliverance was near at 
band* I remember being taken by my father 
(17S2) to one of the dinner;! given in honour 
of that great event, and sitting upon the knee 
of the chairman while the following toast was 
fiithiisiarticaUy sent round : — ^* ]Viay the breesees 
firom France fan our Irish Oak into verdure.'* 
In a few months after was pussed the me- 
morable Act of 1793, sweeping away some of 
the moat monstrous of the remaining sanctions 
of the penal code; and I was myself among 
the first of the young Helots of the land, wliu 
hasitgitert to avail themselves of the new privi* 
lege of being educated in their cauiitry's uni- 
irersitj, — ^ though still exclude<] from all share 
m thoae ooUq^ honours and emoluments by 
which the ambition of the youths of the ascen- 
dant cimss was stimulated and rewardeiL As I 
weW knew that, next to my attaining some of 
theie distinctions, my showing that I deset-ved 
to attain them would most gratify my anxioua 
motho't I entered as candidate for a scbolar- 
•hip, nod (aa far as the result of the examtna- 
tioQ went) successfully. But, of cour^te, the 
mere barren credit of the efibrt was all I en- 
jjojed for my fiains. 

li WM in this year (1794), or about the be- 
ginning of the next, that I remember having, 
ibr the fint thne, tried my lumd at political 

In their rery worst times of slavery 



and suffering, the happy disposition of my 
countrymen had kept their cheerfulness still 
tmbniken and buoyant ; and, at tbe peritnl of 
which I am speaking, the hope of a brighter 
day dawning upon Ireland had given to the 
society of tbe middle classes in Dublin a more 
than usual llow of hilarity and life. Among 
other gay r^ults of this festive spirit^ a club, 
or society, was instituted by some of our most 
convivial citizens, one of whose objects was to 
burlesque, good-humourcdly, the forms and 
pomps of royalty With this view they esla- 
blitshed a sort of mock kingtlom, of which 
Dalkey, a snudl bland near Dublin, was luade 
the seat, and an eminent pawnbrf^ker, naineil 
Stejihen Armitagc, much renowned for his 
agreeable singing, was the chosen and popular 
monarch. 

Before public afiTairs had become too serious 
Ibr such pastime, it was usual to celebrate, 
yearly, at Dalkey, the day of this eovereign's 
accession ; and, among the gay scenes that still 
live in my memory, there are few it recalls 
with more freshness than the celebration, on a 
£nc Sunday in summer, of one of these anni- 
Tersartes of King Stephen*s coronation. The 
picturesque sea-views from that sjxit, the gay 
crowds along the shores, tbe innumerable txiats, 
full of life, floating about, and, above ulU that 
true spirit of mirth which the Irish tcmpora- 
ment never fails to lend to such meetings, 
rendered the whole a scene not easily forgotten. 
The state cereraonies of the day were performed, 
! with ail due gravity, within the ruins of an an- 

icient church that stands on rhe island, where 
biti mm!k majesty bestowed the order of knight- 
i btxtd ufHin certain faYOttred penonigei, and 
among others, I recolleotp upon Indedon, tbe 
celebrated singer, who arnj*e from under the 
touch of tbe royal sword with the appropriate 
title of Sir Charles Melody. There was id^^o 
selectetl, for the favours of the cnawn on that 
day, a lady of no ordinary poetic talent, Mrs. 
Bsittier, who had gained much fsime by some 
spirited! satires in the manner of Cburchill, and 
whose kind encouragement of uiy early at- 
tempts in versification were to me a source of 
much pride. This lady, aa was officially an- 
nounced, in the course of the day, had been 
appointed bia majesty's poetess laureate, under 
the (style and title of Henrietta, Countess of 
Laurel. 



PREFACE. 



There could birdly hare been devised ma 
•pier vehicle for tirelj pditicAl s&tJre than tliis 
gttjr tTETeitj of moomrchical power, and lU 
iliowy ippttrteiiaooefl, bo tcxnptbgly iuppUed. 
The very day, indeed^ after thb CiKminfiiwwr 
tiun, there appeared, in the DaUcef Mate- 
gazette, as amiutng proclonuition from tl^ 
king, o0ertng a large reward^ in cronehtmnK 
to the finder or finders of his ouijesty*!! rrown, 
which, owing to hit ^^havinjir measured both 
■idea of the road ** in hi» pedestrian progresd 
on the proceding night, hod unluckllj fallen 
from the royal brow. 

It ia not to be wondered at, that whatever 
natural turn I maj have posseased for the 
lights* Bkirmishlng of satire should have been 
called into plajr bj 00 pleasant a field for its 
exercise as the state affairs of the Dalkej 
kingdom afibrded; and, accordingly, my first 
attempt in this line was an Ode to his Majesty, 
King Stephen, contraiting the happy state of 
security in which he lived among his merry 
liegL*ftf with the '* metiil coach," and other such 
precautions againat mob violence, which were 
laid to have been adopted at that time by his 
royal brother of England* Some ^xirtions of 
this juvenile squib still live in my memory ; 
but they fall far too uhort of the lively demands 
of the subject to be worth preserving, even as 
juvenilia. 

lu college, the first circumstance that drew 
any attention to my rhyming piwera was my 
giving in a theme, in Englisti verse, at one of 
the quarterly examinations. Aa the sort of 
■hort eeiays ret^uired on those occasions were 
oonsidered^ in general, as a mere matter of 
fonn, and wore written, invariably^ I b^flieve, 
in Tifltin prose, the appearance of a theme in 
English verse could hardly fail to attract some 
notice. It was» therefore, with no small anx- 
iety that, when the moment for judging of the 
tbemea arrived, I saw tlie examinera of the dif- 
ferent divisions aasemlilc^ qa ui^ual^ at tbo 
bottom of the hall for tliat purpose. Btill more 
trying was it when I j>ereeived that the re- 
verend inquisitor, in whow? hands was my fate, 
had leA the rest of the awful group, and was 
bfmding hii atopa towards the table where I 
wis ietted« Loaning acrCMi in n>e, he aaked 
•Oipi^mialy, wbatW tbe t«raea which I had 



just given in were my own ; and, on my an- 
swering in the afiirmative, added these cheering 
words, ^^ They do joa great credit ; and I shall 
not fail U> reoommcfid them to the notice of 
the Board.** This result of a step, ventui^ed 
upon with aome little fear and scruple, was of 
oouive very gratifying to me ; and the premium f 
received from the Board was a well-bound copy of 
the Travels of Anacbarsts, together with o certifi* 
cate, stating, in not very loAy Latin, that this re- 
ward had been conferred upon me, "propter lan- 
dabOem in versibus compooendis progresaum.** 
The idea of attempting a version of some of 
the Songs or Odes of Anacreon had very early 
occurred to me ; and a specimen of my firn 
ventures in this undertaking may be found in 
the Dublin Magazine already referred to, where, 
in the number of that work for February, 1794, 
appeared a *^ Paraphrase of Anacreon's Fifth 
Ode^ by T. Moore.'* As it may not be unin- 
teresting to future and better translators of 
the pt:>et to compare this schoolboy experiment 
with my later and more laboured version of 
the same ode, I aholl here extract the specimen 
found in the Antbologia:-* 

** Let tu» tritik th« cluMering vine. 
Tbe row, fjOTe'i btmiiliif flowvr. «nt«ii»e. 
Faocjr'* hirtd our cliiplH** wtrAtblng, 
Vernal iwectt aromii] ui brenthlagr, 
WeHI jpUljr drink., full frAAcu quAffing, 
At frlgbled Care wcurelj Laugh ing. 

** fUM« ! UioQ halmy-K«n(eid flowef, 
Bfl«x^d bf SfMrlDg'i (OMt ftMtortof povtr. 
Thy denry UUiuotvtt, o|M>l4g brtflil;. 
To fodi tbacDKlf ea cam giv* dallg ht i 
Ai>d Cfprta'i ohJIdt «1Ua rotm crowv'd. 
Trips with aaelh Grace tbe maaj round* 

" Bind my brovi,— Til tune tbe Ifre, 
Lore my rapturoua »trala* thall Are, 
^ma Bacefaiu' grapc-cridrcled ihrlnet 
Whiia roMi freah xnj browi mtwine, 
Led b|f tbe ^lagml train of Pl«aiurM, 
I'll danoe with ajrispliA totrHirtlTe meaturec** 

In pursuing further this light task, the only 
obJLH't I hati for some time in view was to lay 
before the Board a aelect number of the odes 
I had then translnted, with a lio]:i€, — suggested 
by the kind encouragement I had already re- 
ceived, — that they might be considered as 
deserving of some honour or reward. Having 
capericnced much hospitable attention from 
Doctor Kearney, one of the senior fellowsf, a 
man of most amiable character, us well as of 
refined tobolarahip, I tabmtttad to bit penita] 

t AppolBled PfOToeft of the UilvsffSllr te llw jwv l7fD, 
and mad* altenrarda Blibop of Qmttf* 



PREFACE. 



ibft aamuciipi of my tnuialiiticni m lar u it 
kid then pft>ceeded, and requested his adYioe 
rr»Hfwiing mj intention of bjing it before the 
Bwd. Oo this letter point his opinion was 
tnch as, with a litiJe more thougfatf I might 
haye antidpated, namelv^ that he did not see 
hem the Board of the Uni verity coold lend 
their saaction, by any public reward, to writings 
so GODTiTial and amatory as were almost aU 
thoae of Anacreon. He very good-naturedly, 
however, landed my transUtion, and advised 
me to oomplete and publish it ; adding^ I well 
t«eollect, ^ young people will like it." I was 
also indebted to him tot the use, during my 
L^^ of Spiilctti*s ctirioiu publication, giving 
a faeaiinile of those pages of a MS, in the 
Vsfoui Library which eontaio the Odes^ or 
^ Sym pcaUcsn" attributed to Anacreon,« And 
here I shall venture to add a few passing words 
oa a point which I once should have thought it 
profanation to question, — tlie authentictty of 
theu poems. The cry raised against their 
gemiiiiaiesi by Bobertellus and other eneuiies 
of Heaij Stephen^ when that eminent schotur 
first introduced them to the learned world, 
may be thought to have long since entirely 
tnhaided, leaving their claim to so ancient a 
paternity sale and unquestioned. But I am 
forced, however reluetaatly, to confess that there 
appear U> me strong grounds for pronouncing 
li^t sad beautiful lyrics to be merely 
fiibriealaons. Some of the reasons that 
me to adopt this unwelcome conclu- 
mm are thus clearly st<atctl by the same able 
adiQlar, to whom I am indebted for the emen- 
dalsoiia of my owu juvenile Greek ode : — "I 
da not see how it is possible, if Anacreon bad 
written chiefly in Iambic dimeter verse, that 
llarace should have wholly n^lected that 
metre, t may add that, of those fragments of 
Axm/atusisu of whose genuineness, from internal 
evidence, there can be no doubt, almost all are 
written io one or other of the lighter Iloratian 
and tcarcely one in Iambic dimeter 
This may be teen by looking through 
the lift in Fischer.'' 



to Prorovl Buldif Id, which itEiKU 
iBlte ksD alihm CoU«t« of Dublin. vtUimI from luly, there 
^■M la thm Mn« pai!fciac-«aae with It two copk>« of ibli work 
•r S|Mlflttl, one of wlUch WM pnM«sil«d bj Dr , Troj, (h« 
>qmn Caxbollc Archbtthop, it A gtft from tbe Fopn to the 
lAntfy tf tlw UntT«rt'ltT, u>d c)m ocber (of which I wu lub^ 
Hlf Imiarfd vlUi the mt) be presented, in like manner. 




The unakUful attempt at Greek vcr»e from 
my own pen, which is found prefixed to the 
Translation, was intended originally to illus- 
trate a picture^ representing Anacreon con- 
versing with the Goddess of Wisdom, from 
which the frontispiece to the first edition of 
the work was taken. Had I been brought up 
with a due fear of the laws of prosody before 
my eyes» I cert^nly should not have dared to 
submit BO untutored a production to the criti- 
cism of the trained proeodions of the English 
schools. At the same time, I cannot help 
adding that, as far as music, distinct from 
metret is eonoemed, I am much inclined to 
prefer the ode as originally written to its pre- 
sent corrected shape ; and tLat, at all events, 
I entertain but very little doubt as to which of 
tbe two a composer would most wilUngly set 
to music. 

For the means of collecting the materials of 
the notes appended to the Translatiou, I was 
chiefly indebted to the dd library ailjoiuing St. 
Patrick's Cathedral^ called^ from the name of 
the art^hbishop who founded it. Marshes Library. 
Through my iicc|uatntiu)ce with tbe deputy 
librarian, the Rev. Mr Cradock, I enjuyed the 
privilege of constant aeceas to this coUei.uiou, 
even at that period of tbe year when it is 
always dosed to the public. On tliese occa- 
sions I used to be locked in there alone ; luid 
to tbe many solitary boun^ wbieh, both at the 
time I am now speaking of and iiub&equently, 
I passed in hunting through the dusty tomes of 
this old library, I owe much of that mid and 
out-of-the-way sort of reading which may be 
found scattered through some of my earlier 
writings. 

Early in tbe year 17£>9, while yet in my 
nineteenth year, I left Ireland, for the first 
time, and proceeded to Lontlon, with the two 
not very congenial objects, of keeping my terms 
at the Middle Temple, and publishing, by sub- 
scription, my Translation of Anacrctm, One 
of those persons to whom, through the active 
zeal of friends, some part of my manuscript 
had been submitted before it went to press, 

tD mj 6i«nd, Dr. Kcttmrj. Thui, curlouiljr eoougb, wbLLs 
AnAcr(M.jn in EngUth wu coDfkierH.»And, I ^xsmi^ aot oo 
unroojitnablp jt^uuitdi— »• s work to which graYe collefUt« 
author! d» could fiat oppul|' lend tbelr tiiiciion, A.iMcr«(m ib 
Crtfk WM thaaghl tto uaQttiDfr firex'Tit to be reodirad bjr a 
Protetiitni buhop, ih rough the medlurn of * Catholic arch^ 
bbhop, from the handi oriiU boHocu, the Pop«. 



A 



zx 



PREFACE. 



was Doctor Lfturence, the able fnend of Burke; 
and, as an instance, bowerer sligfat, of thai 
ready Tarietj of learning — as wdl the latest 
as the most solid — for which Laurence was so 
remarkable, the following extract from the letter 
written bj him, in returning the manuscript 
to mj friend Dr. Hume, maj not be without 
some interest: — 

" Dec. ». 1199. 

**■ I return jou the four odes whidi you were 
so kind to communicate for my poor opinion. 
Thej are, in manj parts, yerj el^ant and 
poetical; and, in some passages, Mr. Moore 
has added a pretty turn not to be found in the 
originaL To confess the truth, however, thej 
are, in not a few places, rather more paraphras- 
tical than suits in j notion (perhaps an incorrect 
notion) of translation. 

** In the fift j-third ode there is, in m j judg- 
ment, a no less sound than beautiful emend- 
ation suggested — would jou suppose it ? — bj 
a Dutch lawyer. Mr. M. possiUj maj not be 
aware of it. I have endeayoured to express 
the sense of it in a couplet interlined with 
pencil. Will jou allow me to add, that I am 
not certain whether the translation has not 
missed the meaning, too, in the former part of 
that passage which seems to me to intend a 
distinction and climax of pleasure: — *It is 
sweet even to prove it among the briery paths ; 
it is sweet again, plucking, to cherish with 
tender hands, and carry to the fair, the flower 
of love.* This is nearly literal, including the 
conjectural correction of Mynheer Medenbach. 
If this be right, instead of 

' *Tis twMC to (Ure Um Ungl«d feoc*.* 

I would propose something to this efiect : — 

'TU twMrt the rich perfune to prore, 
At ttf the dewy Imtb jou rove ; 
*TU tweet to dare the tangled feoee, 
To cull the timid beeutj thence. 
To wipe with lender handt awqr 
The teart that on itt blothee lay ; • 
Then, to the boMm of the Ikir, 
The flower of lore In triumph bear. 

** I would drop altogether the image of the 
stems * dropping wtth genu* I believe it is a 
oonAised and false metaphor, unless the painter 

• Querj, If It ought not to be Ifrf The line might nm. 
With lender hand the teart to braah, 
Thtt pn new toftaaw to Itt bluih (or, Its flurii). 



should take the figure of Aurora frtMn Mrs. 
Hastings. 

^ There is another emendation of the same 
critic, in the following line, whidi Mr. M. may 
seem, by accident, to have sufficiently expressed 
in the phrase of *' roses shed their UgW 

^ I scribble this in very great haste, but fear 
that you and Mr. Moore will find me too long, 
minute, and impertinent. Believe me to be, 
very sincerely, 

** Your obedient, humble servant, 

** F. Laubdck** 



PREFACE 

ID 

THE SECOND VOLUME. 

Thx Poems suggested to me by my visit to 
Bermuda, in the year 1803, as well as by the 
tour which I made subsequently, through some 
parts of North America, have been hitherto 
very injudiciously arranged ; — any distinctive 
character they may possess having been dis- 
turbed and confused by their being mixed up 
not only with trifles of a much earlier date, 
but also with some portions of a classical story, 
in the form of Letters, which I had made some 
progress in before my departure from England. 
In the present edition, this awkward jumble 
has been remedied ; and all the Poems relating 
tomy Transatlantic voyage will be found classed 
by themselves. As, in like manner, the line of 
route by which I proceeded through some 
parts of the States and the Canadas, has been 
left hitherto to be traced confusedly through a 
few detached notes, I have thought that, to 
future readers of these poems, some clearer ac- 
count of the course of that journey might not 
be unacceptable, — together with such vestiges 
as may still linger in my memory of events 
now fast fading into the back ground of time. 

For the precise date of my departure from 
England, in the Phaeton frigate, I am indebted 
to the Naval Recollections of Captain Scott, 
then a midshipman of that ship. " We were 
soon ready,** says this gentleman, " for sea, and 
a few days saw Mr. Merry and suite embarked 
on board. Mr.Moore likewise took his passage 



PREFACE. 



XJU 



witk itt OQ ys wajr to Begmod^ We quitted 
Spithettl on the 25Ui of Seplerober (IBoa), and 
in A ihort week kj becabned njider the lofkj 
paJk of Pico. In thifl »tiuitioti the Fbaet4>ii i« 
ducted in the frontupiece of Mooix; » Focmi," 

Dunog the vojage, I dined yqtj frequently 
with the olficeri of the gun-room ; and it was 
not » little gratlfjing to me to learn, from this 
fentlemaD^s Yolume, tbut the cordial reg:ard 
these social and open -hearted men inspired in 
me w» not whoUj unretumed on tlieir p^irt, 
AHeraei&tiotiing otir mrival at Norfolk^ in Vir* 
giotSi, Cttptain Scott iaya, ** Mr. and Mrs. Merry 
left the Phaeton, under the usual salute, ac- 
oampanied bj Mr. Moore;" — then, adiling 
nne kiiul oomplimenta on the acore of talents, 
&e., be concludes with a sentence which it gave 
me tenfold more pleasure to read, — *^* The gun- 
RMSB mfis» witnea»e<l the day of hts departure 
with genuine jorrow."* From Norfolk, after a 
Blay of about ten days, under the hospitable 
roof of the Britiab Consul, Colonel Hamilton, 
I proceeded* in the Driver sloop of war, to 
Bermuda. 

There was then on that station another 
youthful sailor, who baa since earned for him- 
idf a distinguished name among English writers 
of traT<*ia» Captain Basil Ilall, — then a niid- 
ihipman on board the Leander. In hii Frag- 
metita of Voyages and l^ravela, this writer has 
called up Mane agreeable reminiscences of that 
period ; in perusing which, — so full of life and 
reality are his sketches, — I found all my own 
usTal recollections brought freshly to mj mind. 
The Tcry names of the dilTerent tshif)«, then so 
familiar to my ears, — the Leander, the Boston, 
the Cambrian^ — transported me back to the 
•eaaoQ of youth and tboae Summer Isles once 



TIm teatimony borne by so competent a 
wtcoon 10 Captain Halt to the truth of my 
akctdiet of the beautiful scenery of Bermuda 
ii of fkr too much yalue to me^ in my capacity 
of tnrreller, to be here omitted by me, however 
cooackioa nf but ill deserving the praise he 
Javiahies on me, as a poet. Not tliut I mean to 
pretend indifference to such kind tributes ; — on 
the contrary, those are always the most alive to 
praiac, who feel inwardly least conBdence in 
lof their own title to it. In the 
however, my vanity (for so 
' feeling is always called) seeks its 



^bod in a different direction. It is not as a 
poet I invoke the aid of Captain HalVs opinion, 
but as a traveller and observer ; it is not to 
my invention I ask him to bear testimony, but 
to my matter-of-fact. 

" The most pleasing and most exact descrip- 
tion which I know of Bermuda,** says this gen- 
tleman, ** is to he found in Moore s Odea and 
Epistles, a work published many years ago* 
The reason why his account enceb in beauty 
as well OS in precision that of other men pro- 
bably is, that the scenes described lie ao much 
beyond the scope of ordinary observation in 
colder climates, and the feelings which they 
excite in the beholder are so much higher than 
those produced by the scenery we have been 
accustomed to look at, tliat, unless the imagi- 
nation be deeply drawn upon, and the diction 
sustained at a corresptuident piteh, the words 
alone strike the ear, while the listener*s fancy 
remains where it was. In Moore's account 
there is not only no exaggeration, but, on the 
contrary, a wonderful degree of temperance in 
the midiit of a feast which to his rich fancy 
must have been peculiarly tempting. He has 
contrived by a magic peculiarly his own, yet 
without departing from the truth, to sketdi 
what was before him with a fervour which 
those who have never been on the spot might 
well be excused for setting down as the Fj>ort 
of the poet's invention/* * 

How truly politic it is in a poet to connect 
his verse with well-known and interesting lo- 
calities, — to wed his song to sconofl already in- 
vested with fame, and thus lend it a chance of 
sharing the cliurni which encircles tbeni,^— I 
have myself, in more than one instance, very 
agreeably experienced. Among the memorials 
of this description, which, as I learn with plea- 
sure and pride, still keep me remembered in 
some of those beautiful regions of the "W^est 
which I visited, I shall mention but one sftght 
instance, as showing how potently the Genius 
of the Place may lend to song a life and iuijae- 
rishublcness to which, in itself, it boasts no 
claim or pretension. The following lines in 
one of my Bemiudian poems, 

*Twai Iberr, In the »b«de of the CnliUMiih Tree, 
WUli ai k'W who could feci Ami retninnLicr like ««, 

Still live in memory, I am told^ on those fairy 

• FrAgmerita of VufifM at»d Tr**olt. rot. It cba|i. »i. 



PREFACE. 



shores, connecting my name with th** pictu- 
resque spot they describe* mid the noble old 
tree which 1 believe still ndoma it* One of 
the few Ireiksures (of anif kind) I cim boast the 
p08M8aioii of, is % goblet forniLHt of one of the 
fruit-shell a of this renmrkftble tree, which was 
brou<?ht from Bennuda, a few years since, by 
Mr. Dudley Costeilo, and which that gentle- 
man, having had it tastefully nioutitcd as a 
goblet, very kindly presented to me ; the fol- 
lowing words being part of the inscription 
which it Iwora : — **To Thomas Moore, E$q«, 
this cup, formed of a calabash which grew on 
the trt'L' that bears bis name, near Walsingham, 
Bermudtit is inscribed by one who," &c, &c, 

Frora Bermuda I proceeded in the Boston, 
with my friend Captain (now Admiral) J. E, 
Douglms to New York, from whence, after a 
short stay, we sailc<l for Norfolk, in Virginia ; 
and about the beginning of Jiine^ ISOl, I set 
out from that city on a tour through part of 
the States. At >Vashjngton, I passed some 
days with the English minister, Mr. Merry ; 
and was, by him, presented at the levee of the 
Fre«ident| JetTerson, whom I found sitting with 
General Dearborn and one or two other 
otHccrs, and in the same homely costume^ com- 
prising slip()ert^ and Connemara stockings, in 
whitih ^Ir. Merry had been received by him — 
much to tliat formal minister's horror — when 
waiting upon him, in full dress, to deliver his 
credentials. My single interview with this 
remirkabte person was of very short duration ; 
btit to have seen and spoken with the man who 
drew up tlie Dwlaration of American Inde- 
pendence was an event not to be forgotten. 

At Phibuk'lphia, the society X was chiefly 
matie ac<juainted with, and to which (as the 
rerscs addressed to ^ Delaware's green banks '* t 
sufficiently testify) I waa indebted for some of 
my most agreeable recollections of the United 
States, consisted entirely of persons of the 
Foileralisi or An ti- Democratic party. Few 
and transient, too, as had been my oppoHu- 
nitli*i« of judging for myself of the politicjd 
or iocial stato of the country, my mind was 
Mi open too much to the influence of ttiv feel- 
I inifrf 'W**' prejudices of tbtise I chif?flY eooaorted 
wUb; aiir'. certainly, in no quarter waa I ao 

* t iipriitntitlon df iHli 9aX»3»mK Ukm tnm • dtrntrtof 
«« ite if«t. toy ^r* ****** ^' *^ ''^^ ^**''*'7' 




sure to God decidcfl Iiostility, both to the men 
and the principles then dominant throughout 
the Union, as among officers of the British 
navy, and in the ranks of an angry Federalist 
opposition. For any bias, therefore, that, 
under such circumstances, my opinions and 
feelings may be thought to have received, full 
allowance, of course, is to be made in apprais- 
ing the weight due to my authority on the 
subject. All I can answer for, is the perfect 
sincerity and earnestness of the actual Lmpree- 
sions, whether true or erroneous, under which 
my EpiFtles from the United Stares were 
written ; and ao atrcmg, at the time, I confess, 
were those impresiioiiai, that it was the only 
period of my pti5t life during which I have 
found myself at all sceptical as to the sound- 
ness of that Liberal creed of politic*, in the 
profession and advocacy of wkich I nuiy be 
almost iJIcrally said to have begun life, and 
shall most probably end il. 

Reaching, for the second time. New Yoric, 
I set out from thence on the now familiar and 
easy enterprise of visiting the Falls of Niagara. 
It is but too true, of all grand objects, whether 
in nature or art> that fai'ility of access to them 
raucli diminishes the feeling of reverence they 
ought to inspire. Of this fault, however, the 
route to Niagara, at that period — at least the 
portion of it which IlhI through the Gene^iee 
country — could not justly be accused. The 
latter part of the journey, whirh lay chieMy 
through yet but half-cleared wood, we were 
obliged to perform on foot; and a slight acci- 
dent I met with, in the counse of our rugged 
walk, laid me up for some days at Buffalo. 
To the rapid growth, in tliat wonderful region, 
of, at least, the materials of civilization, — how- 
ever ultimately they may be tunie«l to ac- 
count,— this flourishing town, which stands 
on Lake Erie, beara most ample testimony. 
Though little better, at the time when I visite^l 
it, than a mere village, consisting chiefly of 
huts and wigwams^ it is now, by all accounts, 
a populous and splendid city, willi five or six 
churchea, town -hall, theatre, and other such 
ufipurtenances of a capital. 

In adverting to the comparatively rude state 
oC BufTalo, at that period, I should be ungmte- 

hM bMa Initodnnd la tlM rlfMUt pivlkxea to ilw Mcond 
voliuM of Mm adlllaB Ici baa ToluiMt, 
f Mm tfiillt to Mr. W. R, Spwow. f. IfK^ qf Chll •illll«>o. 



I 



PREFACE. 



xxiii 



fkl were I to omit mentkmijig, that^ even tben, 
Ott the thores of thoae far lake«» tbe title of 
"Fad,** — howerer oowartliilj in that inttaaoe 
botiivedt — bespoke a kincl and distiJigaishiiig 
ipdooore lor its wearer ; and tlmt tbe Captain 
wbo eonutiftmled the packet in which I crossed 
X,ake Ontario % in addition to other marks of 
eo>ttrtesy, begged, on parting with me, to be 
aIlow«d to decline payment for mj passage. 

Wliai we arrived, at length, at the inn, m 
tiie iie%iiboiirhood of the FalLss it was too late 
to tJiink of Tiflitlng them that evening; and I 
htj avvake almost the whole ni^t with the 
■oiiDd of the cataract in mj cars. The day 
IbDowi^g I consider as a sort of era in mj Hfe; 
and the first glimpae I caught of that wonder- 
hd cataract gave me a feeling which noibLng in 
this warid can ever awaken again-f It was 
through an opening among the trees, as we 
apf)ttMM:lied the spot where the full view of the 
Fall* was to burst upon us, that I caught this 
glimpee of the mighty nm$s of waters folding 
iDMiothJj over the edge of tbe precipice ; and 
my overwhelming was the notion it gave me of 
the awful spectacle I was approaching, that, 
during the short interval that followed, imagin- 
ilaofi had far outrun the reality; and, vast 
IBil wondeHnl as wad the scene that thi^n 
opened upon me, my first feeling was that of 
diAappitntment. It would have been iinpos* 
able, indeed, for any thing real to come up to 
the viaion I had, in these few seconds, fctrmed 
of it; and those awful scriptural words, ** Tbe 
ibnalains of the great deep were broken u^)," 
cao ^ooe give any notion of the vague wondcra 
fyt which I was prepared. 

Bot, in fpite of the start thua got by imagin- 
»taon, the triumph of reality was, in the end, 
but tbe greater; for the gradual glory of tbe 
•cese that opened upon me soon took possea- 
lioii of my wbole mind ; pre»<?nting, from day 
to day, some new beauty or wonder, and, like 
all that is moat sublime in nature or art, aw lik- 
ening sad as well as elevating thoughts* I 
retain in my memory but one other dream — 
ibr tiich do events so long pa^t appear — which 



I of tbe Lake*, w ba Li (tyl^d. 

t Tlw two Ifit attttmeet of the Abore p&rA|[T>pli> <u well 
«> ft pmrnamgw thM ocrun fn che lubtMiuent colutno, itood 
mri^in^f ai pmrt of th« Kat«« on one of the AitieHcAa Poemi. 

t taiT^idaot4 in tbe EpliU* to L«dy Cb«iloUe Rawdon, 

p. iss, oruiifAiiiciitfL 



can in any res|ject be associated wHh the grand 
visbn I have just been describing; and, how- 
ever difierent the nature of their appeals to the 
imagination, I should find it difficult to say on 
which occasion I felt moat deeply affected, 
when lof»king on the Falls of Niagara, pr when 
standing by moonlight among the ruins of the 
Coliseum. 

Some changes, I understand, injurious to 
the beauty of the scene, have taken place in 
tbe shape of the Falls since the time of my 
visit to them; and aiuong the^e is the total 
disappearance, by the gradual crumbling away 
of the rock, of the smdl leafy island which 
then stood near tbe edge of the Great Fall, 
and whose tranquillity and unupproachableness, 
in the midst of »o much turmoiljent it an interest 
which I thus tried to avail myself of, in a Song 
of the Spirit of that region | : — 

Therr, untd ih« iiUnd.tc4^, 
Ju»l «bot« tbe c«Ur»ct'i. edgii. 
Where the foot of llTing man 
Kever trod ilnn Um« b«f«o^ 
Looe 1 lit at clc»e of day^ Ac. Src. 

Another characteriBtic feature of the vicinity 
of the Falls, which, I understand, no longer 
exbts, was the interesting settlement of the 
Tuscarora Indians. With the gallant Brock J^ 
who tht*n commanded at Fort George, I piyised 
the greater part of my time during tbe few 
weeks I remained at Niagara; and a visit I 
jiaiJ to theae Indians, in company with him 
and his brother officers, on bis going to distri- 
bute among them the customary presents and 
prizes, was not the least curious of tbe many 
new scenes I witnessed. These people received 
us in all their ancient costume. The young 
men exhibited for our aniusement in the race, 
tbe bat 'game, and other sports, while tbe old 
and the women sat in groups under the sur- 
rounding trees; and the wbole scene was as 
picturesque and beautiful as it was new to me. 
It is said that West, the American painter, 
when he first saw the Apollo, at Rome, ex- 
claimed instantly, ** A young ludiiin warrior T" 
— and, however startling the association may 



f Thli brmrp and «n)abl« crfflcerf w&i killed it Qnpniitmi, 
In Upper CAoadA, kwr ifter the cotafnenccinent of Ihu irtr 
with Americw, In the fttm 1818. He vis In the »ct orrhe«riiiff 
OD bti men whru he fell The Inicnirtton on the monunient 
nlted to hti memory, on QueeoitGia Heigh ti, doci but due 
bonour to hU mftnlr character. 



J 



PREFACE. 



ftppcAT, Bome of the griK^efiil ami agil^ forms 
whicb I saw that dnjr among tlie Tusearoras 
W€re nuch as would account for its arbing in 
the Toung painter's mind. 

Af\4L*r crossing " the fresh-water ocean" of 
Ontario, I passed down the St. Lawrence to 
Montreal and Quebec, staying for a short time 
at each of tliese places ; and this part of my 
jourueji as well as mj vnjage ou from Quebec 
to Halifax, is sufficiently traceable through the 
few pieces of poetry that were suggested to me 
by scenes and events on the way. And here I 
niu-Hi a^rain venture to avail myselfof the valu- 
able testimony of Captain Hall to the truth f>f 
my descriptions of some of those scenes through 



While on the subject of the Canadian Boat 
Song, an anecdote connected with that once 
popular ballad may, for my musical readers at 
least, possess some interest, A few years since, 
while staying in Dublin, I was presented, at bb 
own retjuest, to a gentlemim who told me thai 
his family bjul in their possession a cunoui 
relic of my youthful days, — being the first 
notation I hiul made, in pencilling, of the air 
and words of the Canadian Boat Song, while 
on my way down the St. Lawrence, — and thai 
it was their wish I should add my signature to 
attest the authenticity of the autograph, I 
assured him with truth that I had wholly for- 
gotten even the existence of such a memoi'an* 



which bb more pnictised eye followed me; — ' duin; that it would be as much a curiosity to 
taking the liberty to omit m my extracts, as myself as it could be to any one eUe, and tliat 



far us moy be done without injury to the style 
or context,, some of that generous surplusage 
of praise in which friendly criticism delights to 
indulge. 

lu speaking of an excursion he bail made up 
the river OttAWi, — *' a stream " he adds, 
*^ which haA « classical place in every one's 
inm;;;inalion from Moore^sCanailian Boat Song/' 
Captain Ibdl proceeds as follows: — '^^MiLle 
the j»et above alluded to has retained all that 
•is essentially characteristic ajid pleasing in the<.e 
boat iOQgB, flJid rejected all that is not so, be 
bfti contrtYed to borrow bis inspiration from 
numerous surrounding circumstances, present- 
ing nothing remarkable to the dull senj*es of 
ordinary travellers. Yet the^e highly j>oeticaI 
images, drawn in this way, as it were carelessly 
and from every hand, he has com- 
bined with such graphic — I had al- 
most said geographical — truth, that 
tlie effect is great, even tjijon those 
who have never, with their own eyes, 
seen the * Utawa's tide,' nor * Down 
down the Rapidis* nor heard the * bell of Si. 
Anne*s toll its evening chime ;' while the same 
lines give to distant regions, jireviously con- 
secrated in our iniugiuation, a vividne^ of 
iot«rest, when viewed on the iijH)t, of which it 
is diflieult to My how much is du<; to ihe 
magic of the poetry, and how mucli to the 
beauty of the real soeQc.*" * 



It It ltciful«rl]r r'Mtirylnff," the author adtU, " tn dU- 
tli«if, txi Uil* ktMtt th« C«nAdUn 9oyageuf9 ii«irct onill 
UmIt dhrinf ■ to tlw thrtM of St Aan«, brfbr« «ni»f itif tci 
■QfMlOTprlMv sua llial dwloi lu perfaniuaet, ^m «»1* 



I ^hould feel thankful to be aUowe<l to see it. 
In a day or two at^cr, my request was complied 
with, and the following is the history of this 
musical *' relic," 

In my passage down the St. Lawrence, I had 
with me two travelling compiiniotis, one of 
whom, named Darkjic^s, the son of a weiltliy 
Dublin merchant, bas l>een some years dead* 
To this young friend, on parting with hini, at 
Quebec, I gave, as a keepsake, a volume I had 
been reading on the way,*— IViestley's Lectures 
on History; and it was upon a fly-leaf of this 
volume 1 found I had taken down, in pencilling, 
both the notes and a few of the words of the 
original song by which my own boat-glee had 
been niggested. The following is the form of 
my memorandum of the original air : — 

IT 




Then follows, as pencilled down at the 
moment, the first verse of my C^anadian Boat 
Song, with air and words as they are at present 
From all this it will be perceived, that, in mj 
own setting of the air, I dcfiarteil in almost 
every resjwct but the time from ihe strain our 
vo^ogvwt* had sung to us, leaving the music of 
ihe glee nearly as much my own as the words. 



no ii)ii»r»rrunll)r of l,«Kff[»lfii up »o prop itimi* ah iDtercountt 
TUe flcMtlfthlni vUl^«g« trtikh •urroitti>di Ut« churrh on tfk* 
' Circvn l«l« * In 4|i9««I(ni ora III «alMMkc« «iid fuiipon «ii- 
tlr«ljr lo ibMV pl« 



PREFACE. 



XXV 



Tew Iko'V wtrongiy impreaaed I had become irith 
ibe BoUcQ thftt thb was the identiciLl Air sung 
Ij the hfrnUneHy — how closelj it linked itjelf 
■I my IflMginAticin with the ecenea and foundi 
■iiiilgt wikh it had occurred to me, — niAy'be 
Men I17 ref«res>oe to a note appended to the 
g^ ma fini pnbllahed, which will be found in 
the feUowin^ V^g^^* 

To tlie few desultorf and, perhapo, ralueleas 
nooUectioiia I have thua called up, respecting 
tlie coDleDtfi of our iccond Tolume, I have only 
to adA^ that the heavy storm of ceiuure aad 
ericjcidaii — ^aome of it, I fear, but too weU 
d iaci i cd — which, both in America and in 
KiiglaiKl, the publication of tny ^' Odes and 
EpitfUes" drew down u[x>n roe, was followed 
Ij resolta which have far more than compen* 
ittted foraoj pain such attacks at the time may 
harm iitllicted. In the roost formidable of all 
mf eamon^ at that period* — the great moAter 
of tJie art of criticism* in our daj, — ^I bare 
iufUid ever since one of the most cordial and 
k^hilj Tvlued of all my friends; while the 
good-wiH I have eJtperJenced from more than 
ooe likltiiguiahed American suificientlj assures 
mm that ttnj injustice I roaj have done to tbat 
bad of fl^Bemen, if not long since wholly for- 
gotten^ » now Temembered only to be forgiven. 

Am 0oaie ooitsolation to me for the onacta of 
I reeciTed, shortly after the appear- 
of mj ▼olume, a letter from Stockholm, 
to "the author of Epistles, Odej?, 
poema,"* and informing me tbut ^' the 
Prinoes, Kobtes, and Gentlemen, wlio composed 
tlie Geoeral Chapter of the most Illustriou?, 
Ijniwlnan, SeculiLr, and Chapterol Order of 
8c Joadiim,** had elected me as a Knight of 
iktt Onier, Notwithstanding the grave and 
•l^e of the letter, I regarded it^ I own, 

fart^ ■» a mere ponderous piece of pleasantr}' ; 
suspected tliat in the name of St. 
** I could detect the low and inre- 
pun of St Jokefaim. 

On a little inquiry, however, I learned that 
tiierc actually existed such an order of knight - 
bockd ; that the title, insignia, &c. conferred by 
it lind, in the instances of Lord Nebon, the 
Dnke of Bouillon, and Coined IrahoflT, who 
were all Knights of St. Joachim, been outho- 
wmcd by the British court ; but that since then, 

« Pic* 117. of IhU cdJtIoo. 



this sanction of the oroer aad been withdrawn. 
Of course to the reduction thus caused in the 
value of the honour was owing its descent in 
the scale of distinction to " such amaU deer" of 
Parnassus as myself I wrote a letter, bow- 
CTcr, full of grateful acknowledgment, to Mon« 
sieur Hansson, the Vice-Chancellor of the 
Order, saying that I was unconscious of having 
entitled myself, by any public service, to a 
reward due only to the betieliu:tora of man- 
kind; and therefore begged leare moat re- 
spectfully to decline it 



PREFACE 



THE THIHD VOLUME. 

The three satirical Poem?, with which this Vo- 
lume commences, were published originally 
without the author s name ; ** Corruptian ** and 
*^ Intolerance " in the year 1808, iiml "The 
Sceptic " in the year fullowing. The fK>IitieaI 
ojnniona adopted in the first of these Satires — 
the Poem on CorruptioJi — was chiefly caught 
up, as is inlimuted in I he original Prcfoce^ 
from the writings of BoUrigbroke, Sir William 
Wyndham, and other statesmen of that fac- 
tious period, when the sjime sort of alliance 
tTMik place between Toryism and what is now 
called Radicalism, which ia always likely to 
ensue on the ejection of the Tory party from 
power.f In the somewhat rash cfTusion, it will 
be seen that neither of the two great English 
parties is handled with much respect ; and I re- 
member being taken to task, by one of the few 
of my Whig acquaintances that ever locjkcd 
into the poem, for the following allu.iion to the 
silencing etlects of otHciul istaLiou on certain 
orators : ^ 

Ak bcHM, on tanen Allgfattns:. ceue their huni, 
Sa, Mi'ttliDg upon [iLiicctt, Whlgii grow dumti^ 

Bat these attempts of mine in the stately, 
Juvenalian style of satire, met with but liltle 
success, — never having attained, I believe, 
even the honours of a second edition \ and I 
found that lighter form of weapon, to which I 

t Bollnibroke hliDM<lf fttkuowlcdxn th^t " both purtki 
i rsdioDi^ 111 the itrkl: tcnic of I be word." 



XMVl 



PREFACE. 



aflerwftrdi betook m^feif, not onlj mcvre easy 
to wield, but, from iti ver^ UghtneiA, perhaps, 
more pure to readi it» m&rk. 

It would ftlmoAt »e«iii, too, as if tiie SBme 
unembitt^^ ipirit, Ibe Bune ^leedom from all 
real malice with which, in most ItiitanoeB, this 
iort of aquib wtrfare has been waged bj me, 
wm felu in Aome degree, even bj thcoe who 
were themselves the objecta of it; — so genC' 
rousl J foT|^ving have I, in mmt inatmicci, found 
ihcm. Even the high Fersonage againit whom 
the cttrli^t and perhaps most suoceiAful of my 
lighter missiles were launched, could refer to 
anil quote them, as I leam from an incident 
mt^ntioncd in the Life of Sir Walter Scott *, 
with a degree of good -humour and pUjfulnei* 
whit:h was ere<litahlo atikc to hi« temper and 
good lenje. At a memorable dinner given by 
the Hegent to Sir Walter In the jear 1815, 
Bcotti among other storiea with which hii rojal 
hiMt was mueh ijnuierl, told of a sentence 
pam^ hf an old friend of his, the Lord Justice 
Ch'fk I*rajifi**lil, jittended hj circumstances in 
wliirh ilm *^ru*!lt/ of this waggish judge was 
txYtm nittn-i couniiicuous thnn his humourr **" The 
Hrgi-iit latighi^rl heartily," says the biographer, 
" at thin iijii*fmii'T] rtf II rait field's bnitnl huinmir; 
anrl * r faith, WiilM'f/ said hc^, * this old big- 
wig wH^nis Ut havo tnken tilings as ciMilly m my 
lyrniiiili'al m^lf ])oii*t yim rrineinWr Tom 
MiifireV di'mTiptlon of ine at bri!iikftwir — 

llf«tti<itt4rtHiilt Sfid t)t» Mitmliii r<Mt<'^* 

fn ri*A*ri'iire t^i thi^ and other lest cxAltc^l 
triJitaiu*fs, of thn gfHHl»huintiun*d spirit in which 
my ** iiiiiiM*ui sales ^* have in general been taken, 
I Mimll vent u IV to eltti hem a few flattering sen- 
li>tii-i<i whlt'h, luimlng as they ilid fVom a poli- 
tii^nl silversAry and a slmnger, touched me far 
innm by their gi*norosity than even by their 
praiite* In speaking of the penHion which haid 
just then l>ecn confem^ ujmn me, ant! <^x press- 
ing, in warm tcnni, hii approval of the grant, the 



« Vnl. Ill p. Mi t Thp WsiKUnl, Antnit M. I HA. 

1 ** Tlia tmm^fttmt^tiM and ifrafi4ril#i » 

Til* MMK fitld mtm^, prvtlf feouU, 

T}i«U In thli Hi!h auA «lsialc 4omv, 

ApEiMr Ml jinrtHt\f Hi bcridv { 

llMi urn* brlf ht riTtfi *mntif Eht dl«h«. 

Hut not ^ nil I HDl Ihv trnftm dur Aihoi. 

I^Mfl hmiri aiHl cUriit hkU'ii the o^ emm i — 

iOi iLMd of %\\wnw and (»f cold Of9wi« 



editor of a leading T017 jonrna] f tbus liberallj 
expresses himself^ — *^ We know that some will 
blame ua for our prejudice ^ — if it be prejudicev 
In fkvour of Mr. Moore ; but we caimoi help 
it*' Ai he telli ui himaeU^ 
' WJt i ^Lmoad br)Q«t 

the most obdurate political antipathies. * * * 
We do not believe that any one waa ever hurl 
by libels so witty a« those of Mr. Moore ; — 
great privilege of wit^ which renders it impos- 
sible even for those whose enemies wits are, to 
hate them I" 

To return to the period of the Kegeocy i ■ — 
In the numerous attacks from the govemment 
press, which my occasional voUies of small shot 
agalm^t the Court used to draw down upon me^, 
it was constantly alleged, ws an aggravation of 
-mj misdeeds, that I had been indebted to the 
Royal personage thus ^sailed by me for many 
kind and substantial services. Luckily, the li»t 
of the benefits showered upon me from that high 
quarter may be deapatched in a few senteneeai. 
At the request of the Earl of Moira, one of my 
earliest and best friends, his Royal Highness 
graciously permitted me to dedicate to him my 
Translation of the Odes of Anaereon^ I was 
twice, I think, admittt^ to the honour of dining 
at Carl ion Houaet and when the Prince, on 
his being made Regent in ISU, gave his me- 
morable fSte, I was one t^f the crowds about 
1500, I believe, in number— who enjoyed the 
privilege of being his guests on the occasion. 

There occur some alluaions, indeed, in the 
Twopenny Post-Bag, to the absurd taste dis- 
played in the ornaments of the Royal supper- 
table at that fvtel; and this violation — for 
such, to a certain extent, I allow it to hare been 
— of the reverence due to the rights of the Hos- 
pitable Jove 5, which, whether administered by 
prince or peasant, ought to be sacred from 
such expTMiure, 1 am by no means disposed to 
defend, liut, whatever may be thought of the 



Kkb of ih«l »pf^ QOV-S-d^fi) 

KaffiF ipfvti h«** tHMD, \tg H — tm— b"! vtilii 

Ffumatwl tfito tllvrr S«lii. 

And rj4s«oni \m V-*i^tt-l loW 

Tlw E*t-t) an m food h sold/* 



I ** ABi« fora lUlMt Jof li HHiHtli vjk" 



Orlfr' 



PREFACE, 



I 



or pmdefice of some of these fatires, there 
DO Umgi&t I apprehend^ much dtflereuce 
iif opittioQ respecting the chamcter of the Rojal 
penonagie agmin&t whom thej were aimeiL Al- 
rcidj, lAdeed, haa the stem vertUct which the 
voifie of IGatoiy oannot bat pronounce upon 
taaia been in aoaie degree anticipated*, in a 
ikeick of the domestic events of hb reign, su|> 
fmtA Ui hare proceeded from the pen of one 
vio waa hnmadf en aetor in some of lifl most 
fiaiafhl 9cc»ea» aswl who, from hu professional 
paiillnti, eoauBanded a near insight into the 
cJMmetcr of that exalted individual, both as 
Imband and lather* To the same high autho* 
litj I tntial refer for an i^Mxmnt of the myste* 
fiottt ^ Book t«" to which aliusiofi Is more than 
ODctt made to the following pBg«s* 

One of the earli«>st and most snoces&ful of Ihc 
mu n e ro o s trHles I wrote at that periods wns the 
Fvodj on the Regent's celebrate*! Letter^ an- 
nooncbig to the world ^hat he ^' had no predi- 
IflBliona,** Ac Thia very opportune squib wa«, 
it firel, circulated privately; my friend, Mr. 
Perry, having for some time hesitated to publish 
it. U« got soine copies of it, however, printed 
0fytmt^ which I sent round to several mem- 
ben of the Whig party ; and^ having to meet a 
tioabcr of them at dinner immediately afYer^ 
lid it DO ctty matter to keep my countenance 
<*iijic they WfTQ discussing among them the 
meiita of the Pnroijy. One of the party, I re- 
firilftfi, having quoted to me the following de- 
arriptjoo of the state of both King and Regent, 
Ml that moment, «• 



• |t4lpftiirfli Reriew, Ko.iritxxT^ George th* Fourth and 
C^tm^mf' -^*' When tbe Friaer «tit«r«d upon pnblic 
wi tmnt l» Imlv# »]ih«aitod ibo r«t<Kirc«i of a €are«r 
! ; to iMfVt gBliM^l fuDowsr* wlihoul rmiklDf frieodi ; 
nroeli wtrj and acme •dmlratlon Asnong tho 
«l polt*fa«d Ktcietjr ; but fiot to com- 
' flillMr r«tp«ct or etteem. • • • The 
mlideb v« luiva fMiliitfld of him 1% undoubtedly one 
•f l^a 4«raca thad* and moat repuklf^ rorm." 

t * Ta*m to no doubt « hate vet that Tkf Book^ written bf 
Mf, F^twvil. aiii4 prlvKtely printed at hii houMt tmder Lord 
EMan'a w m %mtiutr aitnc» and bii own, wm» prrparrd in concert 
vHJl CbNi KiBf. and m%» lntend«d U> sound the alarm agajntt 
Cm^m IImmb and th« MiHUiti/' — Ed Rninp, A. 

I rtPifipw^ Fatt-Bag, pp. 1&3, 154. I avail myieirar [far 
■aartwi htfw of laii lattar tqulb^ to rc««tt a cnrrcctlon wtilch 
I l«a bMrt^ mtdt Im the two foUowing linei of it : ^ 

•* kmk llMiWffb rtatMBieQ mmj glory In being unboOKbt, 
la ^ antlMir* w* lUliia, lir, tliat't ratlier a fault." 
f «rpMI^ tlnl ^op«*t «ar wmt laAUIlml ivltb tb« »ort of rhym« 
hmw aami^ f toduaijr aJt«f«d (aod ipoUed) the wboUt couplel 
utPCrtdoTlt 




** A ttralt waltteoat on kirn, and Tratrtrtlon* on Me, 
A norr limited mouarchy could not well b*," 

grew rather provoked with me for not enjoying 
the fun of the parody as much as himfielf 

While thus the excitement of party feeling 
lent to the political tritles contained in thitt 
volume a relish and pungency not their own, 
an effect has been attributed to two iquibs, 
wholly unconnected with politics — the Letters 
lirom the Dowager Countess of Cork, and from 
Messrs. Lacklngton and Co,} — of which I 
had myself not the slightest notion till 1 found 
it thus alluded to in Mr. Lockhart'a Life of Sir 
Walter Scott. In speaking of the causes which 
were lupposed to have coDtrihuted to the com- 
parative failure of the Poem of ** Rokeby,*' the 
biographer says, " It is fair to add that, among 
the London circle^ at lenat, some sarcastic 
flings, in Mr. Moore's Twopenny Post- Bag, 
must have had an unfavourable influence on 
this occasion "§ 

Among the transtaiions that have appeared 
on the Continent, of the greater part of my 
poetical works^ there has been no attempt, as 
for as I can Iciirn, to give a version of any of 
my satiriciil writings — with the single excep- 
tion of a 6«|idb contained in thi^s volume, en- 
titled *' Little i\f Jin and Little Soul |I," of which 
there is a translation into German verse, by 
the late distinguished oriental si^hcjUr, Profes- 
sor VoQ Bohlen.^ Though unskilled, myself, 
in German, I can yet perceive — sulliciently 
to marvel at it — the dexterity and ease with 
which the Old Ballad metre of the origimd is 



} **S€w, for Inftancfl/' mji Mr. Lockhart, " ilie Rplttlo of 
t^ady Cork ; or Ihnt of Meitri. Larkini^tort, baoks^ellcrt, to 
ooo of tli«ir dandy authnri : — 

•' * Should you feel any touch of portt cat rIow, 
W«*TO a icluMtii* to ftii(^Rie«t : — ' Mr, Sc — tt, you muit Imow, 
(Who. we'ff »orry to tajr it^ now worka for iMe it»tr,>i 
lUting quilted the Borders, to j«<e'k new ren&ti-n, 
Ii comkiR, Ijy ionjj Qtiarto ita«ci. to Town j 
And bciflnnloit wiih HokeUy (the J^ib^t lurf to pay) 
Meani to do all thcf dcntlfmcn^i Seatt on the way^ 
Now, tlu' acheinc ii (though none of mir backneji can bcwt 

hlin) 
To itarl a frf»h Poet through Mlg;b^te to mtft bim ; 
Who, by meani of quick prooff — no revlte* — long coachoi ^ 
May d{» a few rlllBui, twfore Sc— tt approox: hei. 
Indeed, if our Fegaiiii be not curil »habby. 
He'll reach, without foimdYitiit^ ai least Wobum AblM?y.' " 

H Alludlng^ to a tpeech delivered in the year ISIA by tlie 
Right Hon, Cliarle* Abbott (then .SjwJiker) against Mr. Grat- 
tan'i motion for a Committee on the Clalmi of lh*r CathoUci 

^ Author of '* The Anclect Indian/* 

, Puicmams' Row. 



1 



PREFACE, 



L 



■dopted and suiiuigeU m tlie tranfilation. Am 
thii trifle tamy be congidered curious, not onlj 
in iUelfi but HtiU more an connected with so 
lenraed a iiiiiue, I sbuU here present it to my 
renders, premising thut the same eminent Pt4- 
fesior biui left a version lUao of one of my very 
early /oceHm^ " Tbe RabblniciLt Origin of 
Womim.*' 

" THERE WAS A LITI'LE MAN/' 
( T^muiMi^ bjf Prqfe$tor »om Be^Um,) 

Bff war«ln kHnrr MAnn, 

Und dw h»U*n kJdtiwi Golrt 
VaA «r tftra^ii : klnlnnr Gvl»t i«ibti wir nu, xu, «u, 

Ob Utti (nofHrli *ohl wlril icji^ 

fl<teta klfkn?! Fledclcln 
Dm wir balten, klelner Ich und klrlnpr dii, dii. du, 

Dm wlr h«]too« klclncr (eh luid kl^lner 4u, 

VaA Aet klelua Grltt, der brftrh 

Aiu d«i«0 L(H:h(i nun iiiiil iprnch: 
Ich lM<H8upto, kldinifr Mton, du hUt keck, keck, keck, 

NtmiQ nkht ijb«1 inelD<* Zw«irt'l, 

Abor faifp mlr, mm Teufel, 
DaI dill kli?Jnp klelnp Ited' f'tn^^n iwcck, iwcck, twcck, 

IImI illi' kl<riiic kMne R0d' elopD i week ? 

D«r kldOB Mann cUr«uf 

Bli«u di« Dackra mErhtJg auf, 
Und Of tpmch i klrknrr Ooiti vy g4>ich«ul, icbout* teliMit ; 

Klf'tiifT kh iind klHnrr ilu 

Siiid borufvo ja ilntu 
jfiu torduBOMn and bdiuihrtii «1l« L^mi'. Lout', l^ut', 

Zo vOTilaiBiMB und IwlMiliron nile Lt?ut\ 

Und lie ftnufn bridr an 

IJCT klvtna Grlit um1 kliHnci Mitin, 
Pti^Mon att IKr« Hede to klt>ln, klHn, Ueln ; 

UDd difl t«ni« W«)t tiir wabr 

Mpint, da* aut|r«bLit'ne Paar 
ldu«4t eln wfnilj^Pi PfiiiOV'llpiln nur teyn^ tejni* NfO, 

&luMt i^kn wJnii^ci PnilTcllclR, nur tcfo. 

Ilftvlng thus brought together, lu well from 
the records of othcn», r» from my own recol- 
lecttonf whatever incidental tightJ could be 
Uirf»wn from those aourc'es, on some of the 
ftatirical eflfuiilonB contained in thei»e piige% 1 
shall now reserve all Aiich remiiuBcenees and 
notices as relate to the IrLsli Melodies for our 
next volume. 

It is right my readers should hero be np^ 
prized, that the ptan nf cliis«ing my |HH.'ti< ul 
works acconling to the order of their first piiU- 
lieatiim is pursued no further thnn the Sct^ond 
Vtilume of this Collection; and that^ therefore, 
the arrangement of the eontentt of the suc- 
ceeding Volumes, though not, in a general way, 
departing much fVom this rule, is not to be de- 
pended u[Mm as observing it. 



PREFACE 

TO 

THE FOURTH VOLUME, 

The recollections connected, in my mi ml, with 
that early pcriotl of my life, when I first thought 
of interpreting in verse the touching liuigiiag€ 
of my country's mu^ic, tempt me again to ad» 
vert to tbo^ long past days ; and even at the 
risk of being thought to indulge overmuch in 
whiit CoUey Cibber calls '* tbe great pleasure 
of writing about one*8 self all dtiy," to notice 
briefly some of those impressions and intluences 
under which the attempt to adapt words to 
our ancient Melodies was for some time medi- 
tated by me, and, at last^ undertaken. 

There can be no doubt that to the «eal and 
industry of Mr. Bunting hb country b indebted 
for the preservation of her old national airs. 
During tbe previdence of the Penal Code, the 
music of Ireland was ma4le to share in the fate 
of its people. Both were alike shut out from 
the pale of civilistHi life ; and seldom anywhere 
but in the huts of the proscribed race could 
the sweet voice of the songs of other days be 
heard. Even of that clasa, the itinerant harp- 
ers, among whom for a long period our ancient 
music had been kept alive, there remained but 
few to continue the precious tradition ; and a 
great music-meeting htid at BeHast in the year 
17&2, at which the two or three still remainitig 
of the old raci^ of wandering haqxirs assiittetl, 
exhibited the last public effort made by tbe 
lovers of Irbb music, to preserve to their 
country the only grace or ornament left to her, 
out of the wreck of alt her liberties and hopes. 
Thus what the fierce legislature of the Pale 
hiul eufleavoured vainly through so many cen- 
turies lo effect, — the utter extinction of Ire- 
land's Minstrelsy, — the deadly pressure of the 
Penal Laws had nearly, at the close of the 
eighteenth century, accomplished ; and, hut for 
the SEeiil and intelligent research of Mr. Bunr ing^ 
at that crisis, ihe greater pru-t of our musical 
treasurer would probably hiive been lost to the 
world. It was in the year 171>G that tliib 
gcnileniiin published his first volume; and tlie 
national spirit and hope then wakeocNl iti Ire* 
land, by the rapid spread of the democratic 
principle throughout Europe, could not but tn- 



I 

I 

i 



I 



3 



PREFACK 



%xkx 



•are a most ecntliAl reception for auch b work ; 
— iUltcriiig «a it wis to the fond dreuns of 
£rtii*f carlj d«ja, and containing in itself, 
indeed* reouricahle testimony to tbe truth of ber 
to m eftrlj date of civilisation. 
U w«0 ta die year 1797 thau througli tHe 
of Mr. Bunting's book^ I was first made 
mgpiaintcd with ibe beauties of our native mu- 
fic A joung friend of our family, Edward 
Hmkoo, libe n^ephew of an eminent dentist of 
ifait muDei^ who played with much taste and 
feeling on tht flute, and» unluckiiy for blmself* 
Wis bat too dieepdy warmed with the patriotic 
ifdoitr ihten kindling around him« was the first 
vho mde known to me this rich mine of our 
e a B Htfy* < taelodies; — a mine, from the work* 
hg of wlucli my humble Labours as a poet have 
mot ihtu derived their sole lustre and value. 
Abool llie same period I formed an acquaiut- 
Mcev which Boon grew into intimacy, with 
fom^ Bobert Emmet. He was my senior^ I 
iktak by one class, in the university ; for when^ 
ia the &rst year of my course, I became a nuzm- 
ber of the Debating Society — a sort of nursery 
m the authorised Uistorical Society — I found 
ktm in fiiU r^utation, not only for his learaing 
ami eloquence, but also for the blamelesaness of 
Us Ifle, and the grave suavity of his manners. 

Of the politicfll tone of this minor school of 
nratOTj, whicli was held weekly at the rooms of 
resident members, some notion may be 
&om die nature of the questions pro- 
for discussion, — one of which I recollect^ 
was, •* VTHether an Aristocracy or a Democracy 
it most ^Tourable to the advancement of science 
mad literature ? ** while another, bearing even 
mote pointedly on the relative position of the 
and the people, at this crisis, was 
ai^ificantly propounded : —" Whether a 
was bound, on all occasions, to obey the 
of his oommaoding officer?" On the 
of thase questions, the effect of*Emmel*s 
eloqiteoce upon his young auditors wns, I rccol- 
lect* mc«t striking. The prohibition against 
tooidung upon modem politics, which it wiis 
tnfaseqoeoily found necessary to enforce, had 
ttot yet been introduced ; and Emmet, who took 
of eonrse ardently the side of democrncy in the 
delwte, after a brief review of the rcpuhlics of 
antiquity, showing how much they had all doue 
for the advancement of science and the arts, 
proooeded, lastly, to the grand and perilous ex- 



ample, then passing before all eyes, the youn^ 
Bcpubtic of France. Referring to the circum- 
stance told of Csesar^ that, in swimming across 
the Rubicon, he contrived to carry with him 
bis Commentaries and his sword, the young 
orator said, '^ Thus France wades through a sea 
of storm and blood ; but while, in one hand, she 
wields the sword against her aggressors, with 
the other she upholds the glories of science and 
Literature unsuUied by the ensanguined tide 
through which she strui^es." In another of 
his remarkable speeches, I remember his sayings, 
** When a people, advancing rapidly in know- 
ledge and power, perceive at lost bow far their 
government is lagging behind them, what then, 
I ask, is to be done in such a case f Wha^ but 
to pull the government up to the people f ^ 

In a few months after, both Emmet and my- 
self were admitted members of the greater and 
recognised institution, cidled the Historical So- 
ciety ; and, even here, the political feeling so rife 
abroad contrived to mix up its restless spirit 
with all our debates and proceedings ; notwith- 
standing the constant watchfulness of the col- 
lege authorities, as well as of a strong party 
within the Society itself, devoted adherents to 
the policy of the government, and taking inva- 
riably part with the Provost and Fellows in all 
their restrictive and inquii^itorial measures. The 
mostdistinguished and eloquent of these suppor- 
ters of power were a young man named Sargent, 
of whose fate in afTter*days I know nothing, and 
Jebb, the late Bishop of Limerick, who was 
then, as he continued to be through life, much 
respected for bis private worth and leiirning. 

Of the popular side, in the Society, the chief 
champion and ornament was Robert Emmet; 
and though every care was token to exclude 
from the subjects of debate all questions verg- 
ing towards the polities of the day, it was always 
easy enough, by a side-wind of digression or al- 
lusion, to bring Ireland, and the prospects then 
opening upon her, within the senj)e of the orator's 
view. So exciting and piwerftil, in this respect, 
were Enimet*s speeches, and so little were even 
the niOBt eloquent of the adverse party able to 
cope with bis ^sowers, that it was at length 
thought advisable^ by the higher authorities, to 
i send among us a man of more advanced stand- 
ing, as well as belonging to a former race of re- 
nowned speakers, In that Society, in order that 
he might answer the speeches of Emmet, and 



MHi 



A 



PREFACE. 



endeavour to obviate the miacliievoug impres- 
sion they were thought to produce* The name 
of thia umture charapiuo of the higher powers 
it is not necestmry here to record ; Wt the 
object of his mission among ua was in some re- 
sjx^ct gained ; as it was in replyinjr to a long 
oration of" liis» one night, that Emmet, much to 
tb*i mortification of us who gloried in him as 
our leatlcr, became suddenly eml>arra«sed in 
the raidtUe of his speech, and^ to use the par- 
liamentary phrase, broke down. W^hether from 
a momentary confusion in the tbrc*d of his 
arn^iment, or possibly fix>m di(Tidence in en- 
countering an adversary ao much his senior, -* 
for Emmet was as modest as he wna high- 
minded and brave, — he began, in the full 
career of his eloquence, to hesitate and repeat 
his words, and then, afler an effort or two to re- 
cover himself, sat down. 

It fell to my own lot lo be engagwl, about 
the same time, in a brisk stru£rgle with the 
dominant jMirty in the Society, in conMiquence 
of » burlesque poejn which 1 gave in as candi- 
date for the Literary Mi*daJ, entitled " An Ode 
upon Nothing, ^ith Note*, by Triamegiistus 
Rustifustiua, D.D." &c» &c For this squib 
■gainst the great Dons of learning, the medal 
was voted to me by a triumphant majority. 
But a motion was made in the following week 
to rescind this vote ; and a fierce contest between 
the two parties ensued, which I at last put an 
end to by vohmtarily withdrawing my compo- 
sition from the Society's Book* 

I have already adverted to the period when 
Mr. Bunting's valuable volume first became 
known to me. There elapsed no very long time 
before I was myself (he happy pro[»rietor of a 
copy of the work, and, thougli never regularly 
inntructed tn music, could play over the airs 
with tolerable facility on the piano- forte. Ro- 
bert Emmet used sometimes to sit by me, when 
I wuH thus engaged ; and I remember one day 
his starting up as from a reverie, when I had 
jiint fmirnhed playing that spirited tune called 
the Kerl Vox •, and exclaiming, ** Oh that I 
wore at the heart of twenty thousand men, 
niarcdiing to that air t " 

Haw litile did I then think that in one of the 
mcwt touching of the sweet airs I used to play 



'Oh, 



ibm4my»Q(oM*' 



to him, his own dying words would find an in- 
terpreter so worthy of their sad, but [jroud 
feclingti or that another of those mournful 
strains { would long be associated, in the hearts 
of his countrymen, with the memory of herf 
who snared with Ireland his last bleadng and 
prayer. 

Though fully alive, of course, to the feelings 
which such music could not but inspire^ I had 
not yel undertaken the task of adapting words 
to any of the airs ; and it was, I am ashamed 
to say, in dull and turgid prose, that I made 
my first appearance in print as a champion of 
the popular cause. Towards the latter end of 
the year 1797» the celebrated newspajM?r cjdled 
*^ The Press'' was set up by Arthur O'Connor, 
Tliom.is Addis Emmet, and other chiefs of the 
United Irish conspiracy, with I he view of pre- 
paring and ripening the public mind for the great 
crisis then fast approaehing. This memorable 
joiunal, according to the impression I at present 
retain of it, was far more distinguished for 
earnestness of purpose and intrepidity, than for 
any great disphiy of literary talent ; — the bold 
letters written by Emmet (the elder), under 
the signature of ** Montanus," being the only 
compositions I can now call to mind as entitled 
to praise for their literary merit. It required, 
however, but a small sprinkling of talent to 
make bold writing, at that time, palatable ; and, 
from the experience of my own home^ I can 
answer for the avidity with which every line of 
this daring journal was devoured. It used to 
come out, I think, twice a week, and, on the 
evening of publication, I always read it aloud 
to our small circle after supper. 

It may easily be conceived that, what with 
my ardour for the national cause, and a grow- 
ing consciousness of some little turn for author- 
ship, I was naturally eager to become a con- 
tributor to tho^ patriotic and popular columns. 
But the constant anxiety about me which I 
knew my own family felt, — a feeling far more 
wakeful than even their zeal in (he public 
cause, « — withlield me from hazarding any step 
that might cause them alarm. I had ventured^ 
indeed, one evening, to pop privately into the 
letter-box of The Press, a short Fragment in 
imitation of Oasian* But this, tliough inserted. 



t ** Sh« U Ikr tfvm tktUad «4wf« btr fouag Imto iIccim.** 
f Mtw Cirmo. 



H 



PREFACE. 






gS quiedj; uid nobodj waS| m amf 
■Dae of tbe phme, the wiser for it. I wu 
■non taHfiBdv lioweTa', to try a more daring 
Cgte. Witfe3iii& oonmiiiiiicatiiig mj secret to 
mj mtt but £dvard Hudsoii, I addressed a 
loQsI^cner, m prose, totlie • • • • • of • • * % 
is vUck A pro^uioii of bftd flowers of rbeto- 
m WW cnwreBtbed pleotifutlj with llmt weed 
wkkh Shdfcuirmr e eaUi ""the oockle of rebel- 
fioB.* uui* in tlie same majiQer •§ before^ com- 
»ttcd it tPenibtingijr to the chatices of the 
kiter-box. I hardly expected m^r prose would 
be hmioiired with iasertioii, whcA^ lo, on the 
of pihlicmlioii, wheiit seated lu 
m mj little comer h/ the fire, I unfolded 
fiir the purpose of reading it to my 
aaiKtiifj, there waa mj own Letter 
HiQ in the face, being honoured 
with ao ooo^ieaoiia a place as to be one of 
mjr audience would expect to 
aa outward appearance of 
tmm, ifliSe crery nerve within me was trem^ 
Wtt^ I ocMtlvived to aocompliah the reading of 
the Letii? without raising in either of mj 
aaiSiu n a aDspicioo that it was my own. I en- 
joyoi iIm! ftleaaure, too, of hearing it a good 
4ai prataed by them; and might have been 
IcnpHed by this welcome tribute to acknowledge 
myidi ibe author, had I not found that the 
iBid aentiments of the article were 
by both to be ** very bold.** * 
I Via not destined, however, to remain long 
Qaddeetod. On the following day, Edward 
Hsdsonf, — tba only one* aa I have said, en- 
with my secret, called to pay us a 
viaif^ and had not been lung in the 
mwvnuig with my mother, when look- 
11^ mgaSBemniiy at me, he said, " Well, you 

mm ^ Here he stopped ; but the mother'ti 

9ft bad Ibtlowed his, with the rapidity of Hglit- 
■ji^ Ui miae, and at once she perceived the 
wbole Cmth. " That Letter was jours, then ? ** 
■he asked oCme eagerly; and, without hesitation, 
I acknowledged the fact ; when in the 
manner she entreated of me never 



e«f fW 



for ■moQg th« 9%- 
TW ttwm brouflit fcrwurd by Ch« Sccirct Coin« 
Htfue of Cbdamooi, to tbow liov fix-midabk 
of ibm United Irlibmen. there are two 
cited from tliti redoubtable letter. 
•itcst to which HudioQ bad inrolTcd 
la* «H M ptia <7, aoae of our farnUf had harhoored 
cni, oo tac leUuTc of tho thirteen LeiDfter 



t CM ite dcfia Md i 



again to have any connexion with that paper; 
and, aa every wish of hers was to me law« I 
readily pledged the tcdenui promise ahe re- 
qubed. 

Though well aware how eaaily a meer may 
he raised at the sample details of this domestio 
scene, I have yet ventured to put it on record, 
aa affording an instance of the gentle and wo- 
manly watchfufaiesa,^ — the Providence, aa t| 
may be called, of the little world of home, — by 
which although placed almost in the very cur- 
rent of so headlong a movement, and Hving 
familiarly with some of the roost daring of those 
who propelled it, I vet was guarded tem soy 
participation in their secret oiatha, oontoaeli^ or 
plans, and thus escaped all share in that wild 
struggle to which so many far better men than 
myself fell victims. 

Li the mean while, this great oonsptracy was 
hastening on, with fearful precipitancy, to its 
outbreak ; and vague and shapeless as are now 
known to have been the vie^rs, even of those 
who were engaged practically in the plot, it 
is not any wonder that to the young and un- 
initiated like myself it ahuuld have opened 
prospecta partaking far more of the wild 
dreams of poesy than of the plain and honest 
prose of real life. But a crisis was then fast 
approaching, when such self-delusions could no 
longer be indulged; and when the mystery 
which hod hithcro hung over the plans of the 
conspirators was to be rent asunder by the 
stem hand of power. 

Of the horrors that fore-ran and followed the 
frightful explosion of the year 1798, I have 
neither inclination nor, luckily, occasion to 
Apeak. But among those introductory scenes, 
which had somewhat prepared the public mind 
for such a catafitrophe, there was one, of a 
painful description, which, flii having been my- 
self an actor in it, I may be allowed briefly to 
notice. 

It was not many weeks, I think, before this 
crisis, that* owing to inforniation gained by the 
college authorities of the rapid spread, among 



dekfslMt at Oliver Bood'i, In th» month oT Btarch, 179S, w« 
found, to our aatonUbnHrot and torrow, that he wa« one of tho 
nunitM>r. 

To thofe unread In the painful hiflorj of thl« period, tt ia 
rJiflit to mention that almost all the leaden of the United 
Iriih contpirari' wer« Proitettanla- Among tbo«e rompanJona 
of nif own alluded to ia theae ptjgt^ i tcarijely r«isiemb«r « 
■tn^le Catholic. 



I 



XXJUI 



PREFACK 



the ttudenta, not only of the principles but the 
organisation of the Irhh Union*, a t»oleii)0 
Visitation waa held by Lord Clare, the vice- 
chancellor of the University, with the view of 
inquiring into the extent of this branch of the 
plot, and dealing summarily with those engaged 
in it. 

Imperious and harah as then seemed the 
policy of thus setting up a sort of inquisitorial 
tribunal, anued with the power of exumining 
witnesses on oath, and in a place devoted to (he 
instruction of youth, I cannot but confess that 
the facts which came out in the course of the 
evidence went far towards juslilying even this 
arbitrary proceeding ; and to the many who, 
like myself^ were acquainted only with the 
general views of -the Union leaders, without 
even knowing, except from conjecture, who 
those leaders were, or what iheir plans or objecta, 
it was most startling to hear the dit^elosures 
which every succeeding witness brought forth. 
There were a few, — ^and among that number 
poor Robert Emniet^ John Brown, and the 
two******8f, whose total absence from 
the whole scene, as well as the dead silence 
that, day after dny^ ft>llowed the calling out of 
their names, proclaimed how deep had been 
their share in the unlawful proceedings inquired 
mto by this tribunal. 

But there wtB one young friend of mine^ 
#*•••• #^ whose appearance araong^ the 
suspected and examined as much surprised aa 
it deeply and painfully interested me. He and 
Emmet hnd long been intimate and attached 
friemis; — ^ their congenial fondness for mathe- 
matical studies having been<^ I think, a far more 
binding sympathy between them than any ari- 
nnVf* out of their political opinions. From his 
being called up, however, on this day, when, as 
it appeared afterwards, all the most important 
evidence was brought forward, there could be 
little doubt that, iii addition to his intiinaey 
with Emmet, the college authorities must have 
poawaied some information which led them to 
ittipeot him of being an aceomplioe in the con* 



• la tlM lUpori fram U»« %tent ConmlltM of tbt Iriili 
IUnim of Loivy, thiB •stonaJoo of ii» plot to tba Cdlkagt la 
BotleMt m**<k 4>i p <w n tfa prqfsec of tb« muo* betlon to corruft 
Ui« jroulli of eh* COMMIT t*y introduciiig tb«lr orfuLiid ifio 
l*m of traumi liitolh« Uol<r«r«ltjr." 

f Otm of Oioto broUion ham Uxif Kmoq « feneni In tb« 
Vimiik Mmj \ hat lot lakmk m put In all thoae ftmit mtmt* 




I spiracy. Jn the course of his examinatioti, 
some questions were put to him which he 
I refused to answer, — most probably from their 
tendency to involve or tneulpate others; aod 
^ he was accordingly dismiiised, with the melan* 
choly certainty that his future prospects in li!« 
were blasteil i it being fdrcady known that the 
punishment for sueh contumaey was not merely 
expulsion from the University, but also exclu- 
sion fron> all the learn etl profe^ions. 

The prcx^ecdings, iiMleed, of this whole day 
had been such as to send nie to my home in the 
evening with no xery agreeable feelings or 
prospects. I had heard evidence given alSect- 
ing even the lives of some of those friends whom 
I had long regarded with admiration aa well aa 
aflection ; and what was still worse than even 
their danger,^ a danger ennobled* I thought, 
by the cause in which they suffered, — was thit 
ehaxneful spectacle exhibited by those who had 
ippcared in evidence against them. Of these 
witnesses, the greater number had been them- 
selves involved in the plot, and now came for- 
ward either as voluntary informer*, or else 
were di'iven by the fear of the eonnequences of 
refusal to secure their own safety at the ex* 
pense of ocnnponions and friends* 

I wcU remember the gloom, so unusuid, that 
hung over our family circle on that evening, as, 
talking together of the events of the doy, we dis- 
cussed the likelihood of my being iimong tliose 
who would be called up for examination ou the 
morrow. The deliberate conclusion to which 
my dear honest advisers eame, was that, over- 
whelming as the consequences were to nil their 
plans and hopes for mc, yet, if the ques- 
tions leading to criminate others, which had 
been put to almost all examineil on that tlay, 
and which poor • • • •♦♦• alone had refused 
to answer, I must, in the same manner, and at 
all risks, return a similar refusal. I am not 
quite certain whether I received any intimation, 
on the following morning, that I was to be one 
of those examined in the course of the day ; 
but I rather think some such notice had been 



prt«n of NApoloon «hkh hitv oom bK«in» matter of htitnrjr. 
fltioMid U>iM pmgm mtmi ib« «j« of titnmi »•••••, tte^ 
will nil to lili mlsMl lb* dayt mm ptuMl lOi«<her in Nor- 
■wndf, m Kiw «iminpr« «tii>r* ) —mor* MfMcUltf «or cseur- 
•lan to Biifvas, vImhi. m mm tiMutd os tbo vif of old coUfgw 
timet wi4 rr1«iKlt. all tlM •* tntl^l 
throtlfih tine* w i Bitil qutlo I 



PKEFACE. 



xxsiii 




to me ; — and, ai ItisU mj mrful turn 
, I stood iti firesence of the formidable 
Tli«re sat, with severe look, the 
', and, hj his side, the memor* 
•Mt Boesor Duigetmn, — memorable for his 
demal pAinpldets agamst the Catholics, 

TW iMih was proffered to me. ** I hare an 
oh j ^c tiott , mj Lord," said I, "* to taking this 
aath-*" "Whmt m your objection?" he asked 
ftemly. " I hare no fears, my Lord, that any 
dtfn^ 1 mgiit fiay would criminate myself; but 
it mi^bM tend to involve others, and I despije 
of the person who could be led, 
dmimitaxieca, to inform a^inst 
This WIS aimed at some of tbe 
of the preoedixig day; and, 113 I 
mAerwanla. was so understood. '^^ How 
yoa* Sir?"* he then asked. " Between 
and eighteen, my Lord.'* He then 
tamed to h«a assessor, Duigenan, aiid exchanged 
a lew words with htm, in an under tone of 
••We cannot,** he resumed, ngain ad* 
me, ^ suiTer any one to remain in our 
ilj who refuses to take this oath." 
then, mj Lord,** I replied, ** take the 
—still reaenring to myself the power of 
to aoawer any .such questions as I have 
jusa d tactl bed," ** We do not sit here to argue 
wuh yoH, Sir,* he rejoined sharply; upon which 
I took tho oath, and seated myself in the wit* 

The foQowis]g mrt the questions and answers 
thai then etiiued. After adverting to the 
eatistence of United Irish Societies in 
^tTiimniay, be aaked« ^ Have you ever 
to any of these societies?** *^» No, 
my Lovft* •• Have you ever known of any of 
ihe proceedings that took place in them?" 
•• Kfl^ Biy Lord." " Did you ever bear of a 
at any of their meetings, for the pur- 
of Brma and ammunition?" ** Never, 

iMra tvD qiMitlonf pat to all thofe enamlned 

.. — "< WtYV JOQ «Trr a«ked to Join a(ij of tbeie 

nd " Bj whom were you uked ? " — trhlch I 

to ati«wrr, and muit, of ctnine, bav« 





of tbm «I»T« report of th!* thftrt «t- 

lirecty eooAdratUl}; juwwer. ltma]r«niuie« 

readtfTt, — fti tthoirfitf tbe maoncr In whkrb 

tlw iBott ot Amall fiict«, — to »«e an v«Cract 

icr account of ibU vSkir^ p<abliili«d mit muif 

•Id aad Bcalooi (Hend of our funilj. Alter 

OQcractDui one or two of my antwon, 

:—** Ufwii thtf. Lord Clare r(i>«flir<l 

mi fOBDff Moor* mad* tuth an appeal, u 



my Lord " " Did you ever hear of a propo- 
sition made, in one of theae societies, with 
respect to the expetliency of assassination ? *' 
" Oh no, my Lord*" He then turned again to 
Duigcnan, and, after a few words with him, 
said tome: — **When such are the answers you 
arc able to give*, pray what was the cause of 
your great repugnance to taking the oath?" 
**I have already told your Lordship mj chief 
reason ; in addition to which, it was the first 
oath I ever took, and the hesitation was, I th'mk, 
natural." f 

I was now dlimissed without any further 
questioning ; and, however trying had been ibis 
shott operation, was amply repaid for it by tbe 
kind zeal with which my yottng friends and 
companions docked to congratulate roe ; — not 
»o much, I was incllnetl to hope^ on my acquittal 
by tbe court, ns on the manner in which I had 
acquitted myndf. Of my reception, on return- 
ing home, afker tbe fears entertained of so very 
different a result, I will not attempt any de- 
scription; — it was all that sw^h a home alone 
could furnish. 

I have continued thus down to the very 
verge of the warning outbreak of 1798, the 
slight sketch of my early days which I ven- 
tured to commence in tbe First Volume of this 
Collection : nor cotUd I have furnished the 
Irish Melodies with any more pregnant illus- 
tration, as it was in tliose times, and among tbe 
events then stirring, that tbe feeling which 
afkerwanls found a voice in my country's music, 
was bom aiul nurtured. 

I »ball now string together such detached 
notices and memoranda respecting this work, 
as I think may be likely to interest my readers. 

Of tbe few gongs written with a concealed 
political feeling, — such as ** When be who 
adores tbec," and one or two more, — the most 
successful, in its day, was ** When first I met 



cAUKd bit lofiUhlp to rc'ljjc^ ati»tpr<r and rffidu he wai. Th* 
word! 1 cann'Ot eiiactly mnernber ; tbr fubf lance wu ai foU 
lowf I — iba£ be entered eoUegr to rrcpWe tti« rducatloD of a 
tebular and a sentleauui j that be linew wm bow tn compfti- 
mile thfffc cbaractori lif icironnlng a^Alnit bU college cmn- 
paoliyoM ; that hli own ip<>«eb«i ia the debating •ortrty had 
t>era III cooclrti^. when thi« worit tbal rould be laid of tbem 
wa», tf tmtb bad been •poken^ that th«!y wert- patriotic .... 
that he wmi awxreof thp blKh-'nlitdt'd tiolilL-mdn b« bad tbe 
boDoar of appealing to, and if bit Lordihtft ccnikl for a mom^Dt 
condetceod to %i*^ rrom bl« blpb rtatton ajiet place himKlfin 
hli fititation, tben My bow he would act under f ach rlrcum* 
atattc««, U would be bit gukljince."— HaaaxaT'i IrUk Va- 
rififet. I^oodoo, 1HS6. 




i 



XXZIV 



PREFACR 



thee wtrm and jonng,** which alluded, in its 
hi<lden feme, to the Prince Regent*t deiertion 
of hb political friends. It wa« little leas, I 
own, than profanation to disturb the sentiment 
of so beautiful an air bj anj connexion with 
such a subject The great success of thb song, 
MOtm aiVcr I wrote it, among a large portj stay- 
ing at Cbatsworth, is thus alluded to in one of 
I^rd Byron's letters to me: — "I have heard 
fVom London that jou have left Chatsworth 

and all there full of * entusjmusy* 

and, in particular, that * When first I met thee* 
has been quite overwhelming in its effect I 
told you it was one of the best things jou ever 
wrote, though that dog * * * * wanted jou to 
omit part of it.** 

It has been sometimes supposed that ^ Oh, 
breathe not his name,** was meant to allude to 
Lord Edward Fitzgerald: but this b a mistake; 
the song having been suggested by the well 
known passage in Robert £mmct*s dying 

speech, ** Let no man write mj epitaph 

let my tomb remain uninscribed, till other times 
and other men shall learn to do justice to my 
Diotnory.** 

Hie feeble attempt to commemorate the 
gitiry of our great Duke — ** When History's 
Must*/* kc, — is in so far remarkable, that it 
niiwlu up amply for its want of poetical spirit, 
by an ouifKiuring, rarely granted to bards in 
tli«*iio dnysi of the spirit of prophecy. It was 
In tlu* yi*ar \H\5 that the following lines first 
inuile tlifir Rpiuiarance : — 

Aiid Mill th« Uit rrown of thy lolU Is mnalnlng, 
Thii irattrfril, lh» |iurpftl, vv'ti iMou hut yrt known \ 

ThiMigh |it<MMl WM thjr taik. (>th»r natloni unchaining, 
Fur iiriNiilur to hwil th» d^p wounds of thj own. 

At lh» ftHM ttt ihM thnma, Air whusa wmI thou hast stood, 
Uii, hUmI (itr th» Una that Arst rradlad thj fluno, Ae. 

About fourt<H*n years after these lines were 
writtiMi, the Duke of Wellington recommended 
to the throne the great measure of Catholic 
Kniitm'lpntion. 

The fancy of the ** Origin of the Irish 
Uurp,** was (as I have elsewhere acknowledged*) 
sugg«*sttH|, liy a drawing made under pecu- 
liarly painful circumstances, by the fViend so 

• " Whrii, In rflns«K|urae« of tha rompart tntarad Into ba. 
IwMn snvarnmpnl and tha rhlaTlaadarsortharoQSplrary, tha 
aiala l*rU<iiiars, brfura proraadlng Intoailla, waraallowad to 
»M« ihrlr rviviuU, I paid a vUlt to Kdward Hudson. In lha)ail 
of Kllmalitham. whara hn had than lain Imaiurad 9or (tour or 
Sva mimihs, haartng of (Hand aftar frland balng lad out to 
daath. and axpaallni avary waah his own iuni lo com*. I 



often mentioned in tliis aketdi, Edward Hod- 
aoo. 

In connexion with another of these miff Mew 
airs, — one that defies all poetry to do it juatiee, 

— I find the following singular and toudiiiig 
statement in an article of the Qoarteriy Review. 
Speaking of a yoimg and promising poHi^ts, 
Lucretia Davidson, who died very early from 
nervous excitement, the Reviewer says, ** Sbe 
was particularly sensitive to music There was 
one song (it was Moore*s Farewell to his Harp) 
to which she took a special fancy. She widied 
to hear it only at twilight, — Uius (with tha| 
same perilous love of excitement which made 
her place the MoUmr harp in the window when 
she was composing) seeking to increase the 
effect which the song produced upon a nenroui 
system, already diseasedly susceptible ; for it is 
said that, whenever she heard this song, she 
became cold, pale, and almost fainting ; yet it 
was her favourite of all songs, and gave occasion 
to those verses addressed in her fifteenth year 
to her sister.** f 

With the Melody entitled ^ Love, Yaloor, 
and Wit,** an incident is connected, which 
awakened feelings in me of proud, but sad 
pleasure — as showing that my songs had 
reached the hearts of some of the descendants 
of those great Irish families, who found them- 
selves forced, in the dark days of persecution, 
to seek in other lands a refuge from the shame 
and ruin of their own ; — those, whose story I 
have thus associated with one of their country's 
most characteristic airs : — 

Ya Dlakcs and O'Donnalls, wbosa fSnthers reslgn'd 
The gre«n hllU of their youth, among strangers to lad 
That repose which at home they had slgh'd for in TalA. 

From a foreign lady, of this ancient extraction, 

— whose names, could I venture to mention 
them, would lend to the incident an additional 
Irish charm, — I received, about two years since, 
through the hands of a gentleman to whom it had 
been entrusted, a large portfolio, adorned inside 
with a beautify drawing, representing Love, 
Wit, and Valour, as described in the song. In 
the border that surrounds the drawing are intro- 

found that to amuse his solitude he had made a large drawing 
with charcoal on the wall of his prison, representing that Am- 
dad origin of the Irish Harp which, some years after, I adopted 
as Um suhleet of one of the • Melodias.*" . LCfSr rad X)ral* y 
LaH Ahaartf FHttermM, vol. 1. 
t Quaiterlj Kavkw. toI. xU. p. AM. 



PREPACK 



XJCXV 



<iaeed the liiTOiirite fnihlenw of Erin, the harp, 
tiM ih— foHr, the miCred head of St. Patrick, 
witii •crolk contamiog eftdi» bucribed 
of giold, tJie DAme of some fsTourite 
Bciodj «f tlie fair irtut. 

Tkis present was ■ccomponied bj the fol- 
iating letter from the huly henelf ; and her 
IriA tvce, I fear, b but too discernible in the 
indiscretion with which^ m this in- 
e nllows praise so much to outstrip 



'*£#lSJ#4f«l«Ml 



SI les pontes n*6toient en quelque 
i propri^ intelleciuelle dont chacun 
part 4 raisini de la pul3sance qu'ib 
je ne autrots en vcrite comment fiure 
pfMff* jiisiifier mon courage! — car il en foUoit 
beaneiwp pour aToir ose consacrer mon pauvre 
Ciknt d'amatear k voa dUieieuses poesies, et 
plas encore pour en renToyer le pile reflet ^ 
mm Tcritable auteur. 

** Xesp^re toutefois que ma sjmpathte pour 
rirlat»de tous fera juger ma foible production 
iTer eetie heureuse partislite qui impose silence 
a la eritique : car, &i je n'appojticns pas k Tile 
Terle par ma naissance, m mes retationa, je puia 
dire qne jc in'j interesse avec un ccsur Irlan- 
daia» et que j^u consery^ plus que le nom de 
■kes p^res. Cela seul me fait espcrcr que mes 
petits vojageur« ne subiront poa le trUte novi- 
ciat des Strangers. Puisflent-Us remplir leur 
■wsBOQ sur le sol natnlf en agissant conjointis- 
neni ei toujours poor hi cause Irian dalse^ ei 
■■wner enftn une £re nouTeUe pour cette 
lilrQ^iae et malheureuse nation: — le moyen 
de vaiaere de tels adTersairea s^ils ne font 

•*Vous dirai-je, Monsieur, les doux moments 
<|ue je dots k vos ouvrages ? ce seroit reptt4.*r 
one IbJB de pltts ce que tous entendez tous les 
Jours et de tous lea coins de b terre, Aus^i 
j*ai gvde de tous rayir un tema ti*op precleujt 
par r^dho de ces Tieill«^ verites. 

** Si jamais mon etoile me conduit en Lrlandef 
je ne ra*j crou^ pas Strange re. Je aaia que le 
paase j hume de longa Bouvenir»i et que la con- 
fonmt«^ def d^sirs et des espcranced rapproche 
en d^t de Tespace et du tems. 

^ Jusque la, recevez^ je voui prie, Taasurance 



de ma parfiute eoorideratioa, avec laqueUe j*ai 
rbonoeur d*4lre, 



^ Yotre trca-homble Serrmntei 
"LaCok 



Of the translations thai b«ire appeared of the 
Melodies in different languages, I chaU here 
mention such as have oorae to my knowlcd^ 

Latin, — *^ Contus Hibernici," Nicholaa Lee 
Torre, London, 1835. 

Italian. — G. Flechia, Torino, 1636, ^ Adele 
Cuati, Milano, 1836* 

/>e«cA. — Madame Belloc, Paris. 1823.— 
Loere Veimar^ Paris, 1829, 

RuMsum. — Several detached Melodies, by 
the popular Eussian poet Kozlof. 



PREFACE 



THE FIFTH VOLUME. 

Is spite of the satirist's aaaertioii, that 

" next to riiifinf. the moft Toollth thing 
U frstelr to bA»Qgiui on wbat %e >Lng/' ~ 

I aboil jet venture to preftjc to this Volume a 
few introductory pages, not relating so much to 
the Songs whieh it contains as to ray own 
thoughts and recoDeclions respecLxug aong- 
writing in general. 

The close alliance known to liave existed 
between poetry and music, during the infancy 
of both these art*, has sometimes led to the 
coneluBton that they are essentially kindred to 
each other, and that the true poet ought to be, 
if not practically, at least in taste and oar, a mu- 
sician. That such was the case in the early 
times of ancient Greece, and that her poets 
then not only set their own verses to music, 
but sung them at public festivals, there is every 
reason, from all wc know on the subject, to 
believe. A similar union betwec"n the two arta 
attended the dawn of modem literature, in the 
twelfth century, and waa, In a certain degree, 
continued down as far as the time of Petrarch, 
when, as it appears from his own memo- 
tanduma, that poet uaed to sing his versea, iu 





XXX VI 



PREFACE. 



composing them * ; and when it was the cus- 
tom with all writera of sonnets and canzoni to 
prefix to their poems a »ort of key-not^, by 
which the intonation in reciting or chanting 
them was to be regulated. 

As the practice of uniting in one individual, 
— whether Bard, Scold, or Troubadour, — ^the 
character and functions both of musician aod 

j poet, is known to have been invariably the mark 
of a rude state of society, so the gradual »cpar- 
fttioii of these two callings^ In accordance with 
that great principle of Pulitical Economy, the 
division of labour, has been found an equall v 
sure index of improving civilisation* So fur, 
in England, indeed, haa this partition of work- 
manship been carried^ ihat,. with the signal ex- 
ception of MiltoUj there ia not to be found, I 
believe, among all the eminent jioets of Eng* 
land^ a single musician. It is but fair, at the 
same time, to acknowledge, that out of the 
works of these very poets might be produced 

I m select number of songs, surpassing, in fancy, 
l^mcei^ and tendemesa, all that the language, 
perhapSt of any other country could furnish. 

We witness, in our own times, — as far as the 
knowledge or practice of music is concerned, 
— ^a similar divorce between the two arts ; and 
my friend and neighbour, Mr. Bowles, is the 
only distinguished poet of our day whom I can 
call to mind as being also a musician* "f Not to 
dwell further, however, on living writers, the 
itrong feeling, even to tears, with wLich I have 
leen Byron listen to some favuurite meb>dy, 
hn been else were described by mo ; and the 
musical Inste of Sir Walter Scott I ought to be 
the last person to call in question, after the very 
cordial tribute be has left on record to my own 
unlutore<i minstrelsy. J But I must say, that, 
plesiscd as my illustrious friend appeared really 
to be, when 1 first sung for him at AbboUford, 
it was not till an evening or two after, at his 
own hospitable supper- table, that I taw him in 
liis true sphere of musical enjoyment. No 



* Th* follo«kifif U « ipoeimen of tbcM 
gkffn hf Fo«c«)o: ^"1 muAt mak« tlk«M two v«r*«i crrer 
Mvliii «liiirinf tht'tn^ ami I moit tmupoM iliNrai— >S o*do«li. 

A« M. 19th October." FVvqtMMly lO MIMVU oF that lllMv tlKtl 
potlow M Um fotloirlBf wc*« ^raited :..**/»(nMll 

'.'*Sciiptord«dlt 



I par 



t Tlw lalm Itvr. wmiMn C#ofr«» author oT fho noMs poon 
of** Law1a4M» lllll," ««■ tilM«U» a nmitateii, and lua loft a 
TlMlif* «ii ^ogOA tatalfteatloQ, to whldi hit lmo»l«d<e of 



So UUlo 4o«» 9tm Uia ortglB oT tha word ** Ijrkt/' a* i^ 



sooner had the qimigh taken its round, aAer 
our repast, than his friend, Sir Adam, was 
called ui>oo, with the general acclaim of the 
whole table, for the song of ** Hey tuttie 
tattie," and gave it out to us with all the 
true national relii>ih. But it was during the 
chorus that Scott*s delight at this festive scene 
chieily showed itself At the end of every 
Ti'crse, the whole comjwiny rose from their 
seats, and stoo^l round the table with arms 
oroMedi 80 ta to grasp the hand of the neigh ^ 
hour on each side* Thua interlinked, we 
continued to keep measure to the strain, by 
moving our arms up and down, all chanting 
forth vociferously, ^* I ley tuttie tattie. Hey 
tuttie tattie." Sir Walters enjoyment of this 
old Jacobite chorus, — a little increased, doubt^ 
tesa, by seeing how I entered into the spirit 
of it, — gave to the whole scene, I confess, a 
zest and charm in my eyas such as the finest 
musical performance could not have bestowed 
on it. 

Having been thus led to allude to this visits 
I am tempted to mention a few other circum- 
stances connected with it* From Abbotsford I 
proceeded to Edinburgh, whither Sir Walter, 
in a few days after, followed ; and during my 
short stay in that city an incident occurred, 
which, though already mentioned by Scott, 
in his Diary}, and owing its chief interest 
to the connexion of his name with it, ought 
not to be omitted among these meniuranda* 
As 1 had expressed a desire to visit the Edin- 
burgh theatre, which of waned but the evening 
before my departure, it was proposed to Sir 
Walter and myself, by our friend Jeffrey, that 
we should dine with him at an early bour for 
that purpjse, and both were g<x>d-natured, 
enough to necoropany me to ll»e theatre. Hav- 
ing found, in a volume|| sent to me by some 
anonyniouii eorresp^mdcnt, a more circumstan- 
tial account of the scene of that evening than 
Sir Walter has given in his Diary, I shall here 

pH«d to pnetrj, traai lo b^ prwrat lo tlw nlmto of mrm 
wrilon, (hat tb« pu«t, Vouut. Imu Mt ua as Bm^ on Lfilc 
Po«4t7. In via«li Clwr* It not a »liif la alUialoa lo tCiick, fhfai 



t Uh (V LocMiart. vot vl. f. 13a. 

f ^ Wa wont to Um tiMatro locaCher. aud tha timu» telng 
loGlkUy a feed ona, rtoalrad T, M . with raitturcL I coukl have 
ku«tml tlMin. Utr \% paid tiack Ui« dabc of the iJod rwrpiioo I 
oi«i «ttli kn irvtanil*^ 

I Wrklon bf Mr. 



PREFACE. 



XXX vu 



iBjieU' of iU graphic ftnd (with one ex^ 
i) accurate detaiU. Alter adverting lo 
tlie fCMBlioii produced bj iha appearance of 
thm late Duchess of St Albaa^s in one of the 
boxes* t^e writer thus proceeds ; — " Tliere waa 
a geoermi buzz and stare, for a few aeconda ; 
die attdicfkce then turned their badca to the 
Liilj, and their attention to the stage, to wait 
tdi the firtt piece should be over ere thej in- 
•taring again. Just as it terminated, 
party quietly glided into a box near 
Ikat filled by the Ducheai. One pleasing 
fenuale iraa with rhe three male comers. In a 
miniite the cry ran round :^ — *Eh, yon*» Sir 
Waiter, wi* Lockhart an* his wife*, and wha*a 
die wee bit bodie wi* the pawkie een ? AVow, 
Nii El*a Tsim Moore, just-- Scott, Scott I 
Moore!* — with shouta, cheen, bmvos 
But Scott would not rise to 
these tributes. One coiUd see that 
he vrged Moore to do so ; and he^ though i 
■radertiy reltsctasit, at last yielded, and bowed 
bml €0 lieart, with much animation. The 
«y for SooU waa then redoubled. He gathered 
Wnaeif vp, and, with a benevolent benil, ac- 
this deserved welcome. The or- 
played alternately Scotch and Irish 



Amocig the choicest of my recollections of 
Aying visit to Edinburgh, are the few dajs 
I pasted with Lord Jeflrej at bis agreeable 
retreal, Craig Crook. I had then reeentlf 
wrinea the words and music of a glee contained 
in tkm volume, ** Ship a hoy I " which there won 
its first hoinoiirs. So often, Indeed^ was I called 
iipoo to repeat it, that the upland echoes of 
Craig Crook ought long to have had its burden 
by heart. 

Having thus got on Scottish ground, I find 
myself awakened to the remembrance of a name 
which, whenever song- writing is the theme,. 
oaghl to rank second to none in that sphere of 
poetical fame. Robert Bums was wholly un. 
ikUled in mnnc ; yet the rare art of adapting 
words anecettfully to notes^ of wedding verse 



lier«iniiUkeii. Tliere w«c aae tadf of 

Mr. nor Mrt. Lock baft waa pm^oL 

notwithttandiiDK, that be wm, in bit 

lo fiimic lo fp«flMjijR of lilm anUl 

I, tlMlr preceptor^ laj*. ** Robert '■ 

raoutfixblj dull ftud hla voice untuo- 

b«ftire I eoold |ct him to diit1iifti)il> one 




in congenial union wiih melody, which, were 
it not for his example, I ihould say none but 
a poet versed in the siater-art ought to at- 
tempt, has yet, by him, with the aid of a music 
to which my own country's strains are alone 
comparable, been exercised with so work^ 
tnanly a hand, and with so rich a variety of 
passion, piayfutness, and power, as no iong- 
writer, perhaps, but himself, has ever yet dis- 
played. 

That BumS| however untaught, was yet, in 
ear and feeling, a musician f, Is clear from the 
skill with which he adapts his verse to the 
structure and character of each diflerent strain. 
Stilf more strikingly did he prove his fitness for 
this peculiar task, by the sort of instinct with 
which, in more than one instance, he fiiscemed 
the real and innate sentiment which an air 
was caleuluted to convey, though previously 
associated with words expressing a totally dif- 
ferent cast of feeling. Thus the air of a lu- 
dicrous old song, " Fee him, father, fee him,** 
has been made the meilium of one of Burns^s 
mo«t pathetic effusions ; while, still more mar- 
vellously, ** Hey tuttie tattie^* bas been eleva* 
ted by him into tliat heroic strain, " Scots, 
wha hae wi* Wallace bled ; " ^* a song which, 
in a great national crisis, would be of more 
avail than all the eloquence of a Demosthenes. J 

It was impossible that the example of Bums, 
in these, hb higher inspirations, should not 
materially contribute to elevate the character 
of English song -writing, and even to lead to 
a re-union of the gifts which it requires, if not, 
OS of old^ in the same individual, yet in that 
perfect sympathy between poet and musician 
which almost amounts to identity, and of which, 
in our own times, we have seen so interesting 
an example in the few songs which bear the 
united names of those two sister muses, Mrs. 
Arkwright and the late Mrs. Ilemans. 

Yury different was the state of the song-de- 
partiueut of English poesy at the period when 
I first tried my novice hand at the lyre. The 
divorce between song and sense had then 



X I knam not *bftJicr \t haw eir«rt»i»n before mcNrked, that 
the well-known liin« In one of BuTm'i mcut iptrltcd tonfi^ 
" The titJe'i but the gytnca'* itamp^ 
Tbe man' I the gotd (or a' that,** 
mnj poc«(bl7 hare b^eo luggeited by th« follc^wlnf paitaB«l]i 
Wyf'brrlej'"! plajT, the " Counlfy Wife : " — " 1 wrigh the mam. 
Dot bti tifiei 'tic not the Kinf't namp can m&ke the tactal 
better/" 



i 



XXXTUl 



PREFACE. 



reached its utmost range; and to all verses 
ijonnected with music, from a Birth-day Ode 
down to the libretto of the la^t new ojvcra, 
might fairly he upplieil the solution which 
Figaro gives of the quality of the words of 
sotigs, in generd, — **Ce qui ne vaut pas la 
peine d'etre dit, on le chante/' 

It rally here be suggested that the convivial 
lyric;s of CajjUiin Morris present an exccptkio 
to the gener:d ehuracter I have given of the 
Bongs of this period ; and, aaauretlly, had 
Morris written muth that at all appronched 
the following verses of his ** Reasons fivr 
Drinking," (whit'h I quote from recollection,) 
few would have eqnalleil him either in fancyt 
or in thai lighter kind of pathos, which comes, 
as In this instance,, like a few melancholy notes 
in the middle of a guy air, throwing a soft and 
passing shade over mirth : — 

** My muM, too, whem ber wiiif* Are dry, 

No (mlic (llRhU wtll Uk# ; 
Bui round n b^iwl »hv']l dip «nil 6f^ 

Llkv twalluwn round it lake, 
irthflti the nyinpli mujt hirr her ihArfr, 

Before *he'n blpss her awKin, 
Vthy, that i thJnk'i a reaum fUr 

To nU my gltitt M^ain. 

" ThfTi. maoij • Ud t nk*d li dead. 

And mdnf • lut gro^rn old ; 
Andr 44 tli« Wwofi ttrike* lOf h«ad« 

Uj mwf heart frowi cold* 
But v1ii« awtille holdi offdeffMlr 

Naf , bida a h^rtMs remain -, -> 
Aikd th«| I thtnk^i a reaton fair 

To au mj glaii again." 

How far my own labours in thia field — if, 
indeed, the giithering of such idle flowers maj 
he m designated — have helped to advance, or 
even kept pace with ihe progressive improve- 
ment I have here described, it is not for me to 
presume to decide* I only know that in a 
strong and inborn feeling for music lies the 
source of whatever talent I may have shown 
for poetical composition ; and that it was the 
cfTort to translate into language the emolions 
and pa^tons which music appeared to me to 
express, that 6nit led to my writing any poetry 
at all deserving of the name. Drvd^n hua 
happily described music as being ** inarticulate 
poetry ;** and I have always felt, in adapting 
wonb lo an expre«si?e wr, that I wm but 



nthm batvaf Ibli m«I^ 
»lltloul a«|ir«B«lnf my •trtmg 
mad l«a«»tiji| the lovt which oot 



l>estowliig upon it the gift of articulation, and 
thus enabling it to «peak to others all that wai 
conveyed, in its wordlesa eloquence, to myself. 
Owing to the apace I was led to devote, in our 
last volume, to subjects connected with the 
Irish Melodies, I was forced lo postpone some 
reeollectiona, of a very difTerent description, 
respecting the gala at Boyle Farm, by which 
my poera, entitletl The Summer Fete, was 
suggested. In an old letter of my own to a 
friend in Irelanrl, giving an account of this 
brilliant festival, I find some memorandums 
which, besides their reference to the subject of 
the poem, contain some incidents alM) connected 
with the first aj>pearance before the public of 
one of the most successful of all my writings, 
the story of the Epicurean. I shall give my 
extracts from this letter, in their original diary- 
like form, without alteration or dressing: — 

June 30. 1837. — Day threatening for the 
F^te. Was with Lord Essex * at three o'clock, 
and started about half an hour afler. The 
whole road swarming with carriages-and-four 
all the way to Boyle Farm, which Lady de 
Roos has lent, for the occasion, to Henry;—* 
the five givers of the Fete, being Lords 
Chesterfiebl, CaatlereBgh, Alvanley, Henry de 
Roos, and Robert Grosvcnor, subscribing four 
or five hundred pounds each towards it. The 
arrangementa all in the very best taste. The 
pavilion for qimdrilles, on the bank of the river, 
with steps descending to the water, quite east- 
ern — like what one sees in Danicra picture*. 
Towards five the eliie of the gay world was 
assembled — the women all l4>ijking their beat, 
and scarce a single ugly face to be found. 
About half past five, sat down to dinner, 450 
under a tent on the lawn, and fifty to the 
Royal Table in the conservatory. The Tyrolese 
musicians sung during dinner, and there were, 
after dinner, gondolas on the river, with 
Caradori, De Regnis, VcUuti, &c., singing 
bcrcaroUefl and rowing off oceasioQally, so as 
to let then* voices die away and again return. 
After these succeeded a party in domrnoa, 
^ladamc Vestris, Fanny Ayton, &c., who 
roweil about in the same manner, and sung, 
among other things, my gondola song, " Oh 
oomc to me when daylight sets.** The evening 



oolf lOGMy, but the cauta of 
tUtorm, hat luMalMd hj hit 



if«P«i4»tkal 



PREFACE. 



XXXI X 



«M ddioiouai, and, as soon us it gmw dark., the 
grormirereall lighted up with coloured tamp^, 
in diflereni ah^pes and devices. A little lake 
iittr m grotto took my faacj partictikrl j, the 
i h ru in ill round being illumltuited, and the 
H^to reflected in the water. Six-ond-twentj 
ti^tfteprelliest girb of the world of iashionf the 
r • • • ♦ t • rs, Br • d • ♦ • Ik, De R • • iX 
MaaF • •Id • • • g»MiifF • X, Miss R •!»• U, 

6 ^ * 1 J, were dressed as Roiairea, and 
tbe qoadrilles in the pavilion • * . 
. . . While talking with D— n (Lord P.'s 
brother), he said to me, *^ I never read any 
thio^ 90 touching as the death of jour heroine/* 
•^ What !'* sud I, " have jou got so far already l^f 
«Olk, I read it in the Literary Gazette.'' This 
antictpalion of my catastrophe is abominahle. 
Skm after; the Marquis P — Im — a, said to me, 
•a be and I and B — m stood tngctheff looking 
wt, Ifae gay scene, "This is like one of jour 
Fdees.'' "Oh yes," said B— m, thinking he 
■Haded to Lalla Rookh^ " quite oriental.** 
** Noa» non,** replied P — \m — a, " je veux dire 
cette F^te d* Athenes, dont j'ai lu la description 
dam 1a Ciasette d^aujourdliui." 

EMfKcttng the contents of the present Yo- 
lame I have but a few more words to add* 
Accmtfloied a^ I have always been to consider 
o^ aongs as a »ort of compound creations^ in 
which the music forms no less essential a part 
than the verses^ it is with a feeling which I 
can hardly expect my unlyrical renders to un- 
derstand, that I see such a swarm of son*^ 
la crowd these pages all separated from the 
beaotiivl airs whieh have formed hitherto their 
ducfonuunenl and strength — their ^Mecua et 
tmtammkT But* independently of this uneimy 
feclii^ or &iicy, there is yet another incon- 
eomequence of the divorce of the words 

tiM miinCt which will Im? more easily^ per- 
hM§a^ eomprehended, and which, in justice to 
aiyaeU^ m m raetre-monger, ought to be noticed. 
Those oecflitonal breaches of the laws of rhythmn^ 
which the task of adapting words to airs de- 
mands of the poet, though very frequently one 
of the happiest results of his skill, become 
blemishes when the verse is separated from the 



t Tb« Ei4cttr«an bid; been publbtird but the day before. 

I I tlMll •waiJ mri^jr of thl» fipportimity of iintiditg the 
ckary* t»oaBl).t bj Mr Bunting ■^nlnvt Sir John 5t«!Tra»oii, 
vi b«i1«f niAde tiHtntiooM In maaj or the alri tbit formed 
Wbatever ch*ng4>« of thU (tijid feavt 



melody, and require, to justify themt ^© 
sence of the music to who&e wQdncsa or sweet- 
ness the sacrifice had been made. 

In a preceding page of this preface, I have 
mentioned a Treatise by the late Rev. Mr. 
Crowe, on English versification ; and I re- 
member his telling me, in reference to the point 
I have just touched upon, that, should another 
edition of that work be called ibr, be meant to 
produce, as examples of new and anomalous 
forms of Tersification, the following songs from 
the Irish Melodies:— " Oh the days are gone 
when Beauty bright" — •* At the dead hour of 
night, when stars are weeping, I fiy,"— and, 
" Through grief and through danger thy smile 
hath cheer'd my way*" | 



PREFACE 

TO 

THE SIXTH VOLUME, 

The Poem, or Romance, of Laixa Roocn, 
hoving now reached its twentieth edition, a 
short account of the origin and progress of 
a work which has been hitherto, at least, so very 
I^Dftimate in its course, may not be deemed, 
perhaps, supertluous or misplaced. 

It was about the year 1812 that, impelled 
far more by the encouraging suggestions of 
friends than impelled by any confident prompt- 
ings of my own ambition^ I was induced to 
attempt a Poem upon some Oriental subject, 
and of tho*e quarto dimensions which Scott's 
late triumphs in that form had then rendered 
the regular poetical standard. A negotiation 
on the subject wm opened with the Messrs. 
Longman in the same year, but, from some 
causes which have now escaped my recollection, 
led to no decisive result ; nor was it till a year 
or two after, that any further steps were taken 
in the matter, — their house being the only 
one, it is right to add, with which, from first to 



bet^'H tMiturcd upon faod th«f ve but few «n4 ill^hl), th« 
rptpcini^lftiilUy for them nnti Mlelj vith me ; u, learin^ the 
llannaniit'i de|iartrrtetit U» iBDjr rrlend StevenfOD, 1 referred 
t9 tAjftelf entlr«ij tbe Ktection mod En>n«2nKi«Dt oltfae Jiln. 



PREFACE. 



kMt, I hdd an J comnniiiicatiofi upon tbe sub- 
ject. 

On this iMt oceaskm, an old frieofl of mine. 
Mr. Perry, kindl j offered to lend ibe the aid of 
his adTice and presence in the interriev which 
I was about to hold with the MesBs. Loi^man, 
for the arrangement of our mntoal terms; and 
what with the firiendlj zeal of mj negotiator 
on the one nde, and the prompt and liberal 
spirit with which he was met on the other, 
there has seldom occurred an j transaction in 
which Trade and Poesj haTC shone oat so 
adrantageoofllj in each other's eyes. The 
short discussion that then took place, between 
the two parties, maj be comprised in a rerj 
few sentences. ** I am of opinion,** said Mr. 
Perry, — enforcing his Ticw of the case by 
arguments which it is not for me to cite, — 
^ that Mr. Moore ought to recetre for his Poem 
the largest price that has been giren, in our 
day, for svch a work.** ^ That was,** answered 
the Messrs. Longman, ^ three thousand guineas.** 
** Exactly so,** replied Mr. Perry, " and no less 
a sum ought he to receive.** 

It was then objected, and yery reasonably, 
on the part of the firm, that they had never 
yet seen a single line of the Poem ; and that a 
perusal of the work ought to be allowed to 
them, before they embarked so large a sum in 
the purchase. But, no; — the romantic view 
which my friend. Perry, took of the matter, 
was, that this price should be given as a tribute 
to reputation already acquired, without any 
condition for a previous perusal of the new 
work. This high tone, I must confess, not 
a little startled and alarmed me ; but, to the 
honour and glory of Romance, — as well on 
the publi8her*8 side as the poet*s, — this very 
generous view of the transaction was, without 
any difficulty, acceded to, and the firm agreed, 
before we separatefl, that I was to receive three 
thousand guineas for my Poem. 

At the time of this agreement, but little of 
the work, as it stands at present, had yet been 
written. But the ready confidence in my suc- 
cess shown by others, made up for the deficiency 
of that requisite feeling, within myself; while 
a strong desire not wholly to disappoint this 
'* auguring hope,** became almost a substitute 
for inspiration. In the year 1815, therefore, 

• ApHI 10. 1816. 



having made some p r o gre s s in my task, I wrote 
to report the state of the work to the Menn. 
T.nngm-in, adding, that I was now most willii^ 
and ready, should they desire it, to submit the 
manuscript for their cooaideration. Their 
answer to this offer was as follows : — ^ We ai« 
certainly impatient for the perusal of the Poem; 
but solely for our gratifiouioo. Your senti- 
menu are always honourable.*'* 

I continued to pursue my task for another 
year, beii^ likewise occasionally occupied with 
the Irish Melodies, two or three numbers of 
which made their appearance, during the period 
employed in writing Lalla Rookh. At length, 
in the year 1816, 1 found my work sufficiently 
advanced to be placed in the hands of the pub- 
lishers. But the state of distress to whidi 
England was reduced, in that dismal year, by 
the exhausting effects of the seriea of wars she 
had just then conduded, and the general 
embarrassment of all classes, both agricultural 
and commercial, rendered it a junetnie the 
least favourable that could well be conceived 
for the first launch into print of so light and 
costly a venture as Lalla Rookh. Feding con- 
scious, therefore, that, under such circum- 
stances, I should act but honestly in putting it 
in the power of the Messrs. Longman to re- 
consider the terms of their engagement with 
me, — leaving them free to postpone, modify, 
or even, should such be their wish, rdinqui^h it 
altogether, I wrote them a letter to that effect, 
and received the following answer: — ^We 
shall be most happy in the pleasure of seeing 
you in February. We agree with yon, indeed, 
that the times are most inauspicious for ' poetry 
and thousands;* but we believe that your 
poetry would do more than that of any other 
living poet at the present moment.** f 

The length of time I employed in writing 
the few stories strung together in Lalla Rookh 
will appear, to some persons, much more than 
was necessary for the production of such easy 
and ** light o*love ** fictions. But, besides that 
I have been, at all times, a far more slow and 
pains-taking workman than would ever be 
guessed, I fear, from the result, I felt that, 
in this instance, I had taken upon mjsdf a 
more than ordinary responsibility, from the 
immense stake risked by others on my chance 

•.1S16. 



PREFACE. 



idi 



For a long time, therefore, after 
hnd been coodtided, though 
§a0iUj St work with a riew to this toAk, I 
Widft but Tcfj Utile real progrcM m it, and I 
ilill bj me the b^;ituiing8 of several 
eootinued, some of them, to the length 
or four hutidred lines, which, alter in 
^nni endeRTOtinog to mould them into shapc^ 
I i^bnm ande, like the tale of Cambuscan, *' left 
UMoliL** One of these stories, entitled The 
Fcrfs Dli^[bter, waa meant to relate the loves 
df a njntph of this aerial eoc traction with a 
fOKOh Okf mortal race, the rightful Prince of 
OnniKE, who had been, from his iufancj, brought 
«pv oi seclusion, oa the banks of the river 
Ajdoo, bj aa aged guardian named Mdiassan. 
IW alovj opens with the first meeting of these 
iVatiiml lovers, then in their childhood ; the 
Bai kariiig wafled her daughter to this holj 
in a bright, enchanted boat, whose fiist 
ia thus described : — 



For, dovn ib* ■flwrj t,Me nfiur, 

■ « boat, aa ivfit and hrif lit 
, In hKBar'n, §«mc ptlgrtra-star, 
1 iu own aigli hom«« at ntgbt, 
T# ikoot y> dliiuit •hrljM* of ligbt. 

net/' jounf OrUn ciiet, 
I to lloii«iiian flies, 
i upoQ tht ttomery grjui 
^<<lnj« Co MO tho viiioii paii ; 
wail ^trtlj Jot Kod portly fear. 
To find Itf wondroua Li^bt lo near, 
Aad takttoa oa bli dutiled ejn 
Aamia tbo ftowiTf on which h« Uei 
• a ■ • a 

WlUain Ihe boal a tiab; ilopC, 
Uko > jomf p«arl within Ua ihell ; 

Wbll* ODC. who aeotn'd of riper yeara, 

But nol of earth, or eartli-iiJL» ipheroa, 
Bar vatcb baildl« tb« •lumtteror kept ; 
QraievftiUy wsTlng. In h«r band, 

Tlic faatbar* ofaome holj birtt. 

Wl«b vhJcb. from time to time, «h« itlrf "d 
Tlkc fracnuM a.tr, and coolly ran&'d 
Tb* htbft browt m- bruab'd away 

T^ boUardlca liut, bright and blut 
Mm oai tbo nounlalnt of NaJay. 

Aroond Ihc tlevplng infint fl^^w. 

And now the fkiry boat hath itopti'd 
Boalda tbe bank^ — the nymph baa dropp'd 
8«r fotdeB andbKir In th« itrcam ; 



A MOg ifl sung bj the Peri in approaching, 
oC wbicli the following forms a part : — 

Mj aiild ihc ia but half Jjf Id«, 

H«f Ifatbcr ilcopa in the CaapLan water ; 

Se»-w««d* twlDo 

Hli Aineral thrina, 
But IM llvti apln In tbe Perl't daughter. 



Fiiln w mill I t fly ttata mortal alabt 

i o my own tweol bowon of Parfatan ; 
But, tbare, tbe fiowon arc all loo brfflit 

For tbo eyaa ofa baby born o4f muia. 
On flowar* oT oartb bar iaot touit tread ; 
So blthor my lif ht-wbi|'d bark haCb broufbt ber \ 
Stranger, vpread 
l%y leaSeat bed, 
To reac tho wandeifug Pciri*f dangbter. 

In another of these inchoate firagmenta, a 
proud ftitnale saint, named Banou, plajs a 
principal part ; and her progress through the 
streets of Cuia, on tlie night of a great illumi- 
nated festival, I find thus described : — 

It w«i a icona of mirth that draw 

A fmila fhtm vv'n Qm Saint Banou, 

Aa, ttrrottgb the huih'd, admiring tbronf . 

She went wkb atalely itepa along, 

And couuted o*er^ tbat all miji|:ht tee. 

The rubioa of bet rocary . 

Kut nnne noilgbt vee the worldl<j imlle 

That luf k'd t>eaeatli bc<r veil, thu whll« : — 

Alia forbid ! for, who iroulct wait 

Her bleaatng at the tvmple'i gate, ~~ 

Wbat holf laan wooli rvrr run 

To kl«« th* grtputtd the kti«>lt upon, 

tf nnce, by luckieaa chanee. h« knew 

She looked and tmird a» otberi do. 

Her h&ndi were Jioln'd, and from each wriit 

By thread,! of pearl and golden twitt 

Hung relics of the lAlniti of yore, 

And scraps of talUmanic lure, — 

Charmi for the old, the ftlrk,» the frail, 

Some made for tifre. and all lor aale. 

On either »id<?. the croud wiihdrew, 

To let tbe Saint paii proudly through ; 

While turban'd head*, of erery hu«, 

Green, white, and criinioo, bow*d around. 

And gay tiarat touched th^ grouniK — 

A* tuiip-bella, when ci>r thplr brdt 

The mtuk-wind pmic», bend their beada. 

Nay^ Aonie there were, amnnig the trowd 

Of Moilem headi that roiind her bow'd, 

SoAtrd with seal, by wtuij a draught 

Of ShJrox wine prt3f4nf?ly ^lUafT'd* 

That, ihikiFig low in reTerence tlien. 

They never roie till murn Jigain. 

There arc yet two more of these iinfinished 
sketches, one of whidi extends to a muuh 
greater length than I was aware of; and, aa 
far as I can jtid^e from a hastj renewal of mj 
acquaintance with it, ia not incapable of being 
yet turned to account. 

In only one of these unfinished sketches, tbe 
tale of The Peri's Daughter, had I yet ventured 
to invoke that most home-felt of all my inspir- 
ations, which has lent to the story of The 
Fire*worfcihippt?r9 it^ muin attnw2;tioii and inte- 
naat. That it was my intention, in the con- 
cealed Prince of Ormux, to shadow out some 
impersonation of this feeling, I take for granted 
ftW the prophetic words supposed to be ad- 
dressed to him by hia aged guanlian : — 



i 



xlii 



PREFACE 

I 



I 



Bright ch lid of destln j ! prnn now 
t re&d t1ii« prornlte on thHt brow, 
TlMt t]f rtnti «haT| mo, nwf* deflle 
The glohef of the Grtten Se* Ii1«, 
Bat Omnuf thall sgatn be IVe«t 
And bail bcr watlru Lord In th« I 

In none of the other fra^ents do I find anj 
trace of this sort of feeliti^^ oitlier in the nib- 
ject or the personages of the intended story ; 
and this waa the reason^ doubtless, though 
hardlj known, at the time, to niyself, that, 
finding my subjects so slow in kindling my 
own svmpathies^ I began to despair of their 
evej" touching the hearts of others; and fdt 
oflea inclined to say, 

" Ob na, T bare na rotce or h*ad 
For lucli M. lODg, lit titch a iMud" 

Had this series of disheartening experiments 
been carried on much further, I rnnst have 
thrown aside the work in de^tpair. But» at 
last, fortunately, as it proved^ the thought 
occurred to me of founding a story on the 
fierce struggle so long maintained between 
the Ghebers •, or ancient Fire- worshippers of 
Persia, and their haughty Moslem masters. 
From that moment, a new uml deep mterest in 
my whole task took possession of me. The 
cause of toleranee waa again my instpiring 
theme ; and the spirit that had spoken in the 
melodies of Ireland soon found itself at home 
in the East. 

Having thus laid open the secrets of the 
workshop to nccount for the time expended in 
writing this work, I must also, in jiiaticc to my 
own industry* notice the pains I took in long 
and laboriously reading lor it* To Ibrm a store- 
lumse, at it were, of illustration purely OrientiJ, 
and so familiarise myself with its various trea' 
sures, that, as quieJc a» Faocyi in her airy 
BpiritingB, required the assistance of fact, the 
memory wa« ready, like another Ariel, at her 
" strong bidding,** to furnish materials for the 
spell -work* — iiuch was, for a long while, the 
sole object of my studies ; and whatever lime 
and trouble this preparatory process may have 
cost me, the effects resulting from it, as far as 
the humble merit of truthftdness is concern ed, 
have been such as to repay me more than suffi- 
ciently for my painj I have not forgotten how 



• VoUalff«, IB bit 
I ilnttlttr 



of** Lm Ouibra*,** wflttm with 
of wwn lng, was aarutfd q( bAvtiic 
into JjuucnUU : — *' Qael- 



great was my pleasure^ when told by the late 
Sir James Mackintosh, that he wm once asked 
by Colonel Wilksi, the historian of Bntish 
India, ^* whether it was true that Moore bad 
' never been in the East?" " Never," answered 
Mackintosh. ** Well, that shows me," replied 
Colonel Wilks, " that reading over D'Herbelol 
IS as good as riding on the back of a cameh^ 

I need hardly subjoin to this lively speech, 
that although D'llerbelot** valuable work was, 
of course, one of my manuals, I took the whole 
range of all sucb Oriental reading u wis aooea- 
sible to me ; and became, Ibr the time, iodeedi 
far more conversant with all relating to thai 
distant region, than I have over been with the 
scenery, productions, or modes of lifu of any of 
those countries lying most within my reach* 
We know that D*Anville, though never in his 
life out of Paris, was able to cocrecl a number 
of errors in a plan of the Troad taken by De 
Choiseul, on the spot 5 and, for my own very 
different, bs well as far inferior, purposes, the 
knowletlge I bad thus acquired of distant lo- 
calities, seen only by me in day-dreams, was 
no leas ready and useful* 

An ample reward' for all this painstaking has 
been found in such welcome tributes as I have 
just cited ; nor can I deny niysolf the gratifica- 
tion of citing a few more of the same descrip- 
tion* From another distinguished authority on 
Eastern subject*, the late Sir John Malcolm, I 
bad myself the pleasure of hearing a similar 
opinion publicly expressed; — that eminent por- 
S4^n having remarked, in a speech s^Mjken by 
him at a Literary Fund Dinner, that together 
with thtwe qualities of the poet which he much 
too partially assign etl to me was combined also 
" the truth of the historian." 

Sir William Oustjley, another high authority, 
in giving lijft testimony to the same effect, thus 
notices an exception to the general accuracy 
for which he gives roe credit : — " Dazzled by 
the beauties of this oompoattion f^ few readers 
can perceive, and none surely can regret, that 
the poet, in his magnificent catastrophe, has 
forgotten, or boldly and most happily violated, 
the precept of Zoroaster, above noticed, which 
held it impious to consume any portion of a 
human body by fire, especially by that which 

qoM ll«wri«tM/' b* H7I, ** prit«iul«Qi qtM \m Gttibrm mm 
t Tb« f lrc-wor«htppcri. 




r 



PREFACE. 



xliii 




I 
I 

I 



ffomtd ttpcm tlietr ahsn.** HaTing long toat, 
f I §mt^ most of mj Ewtem leaming, I can 
OB^ citi^ ta deimee of iiijr catastrophe, tn ol4 
OeieBtil tndkioii, wluch relates that Nimrod^ 
vImb iklvabam refii9edt at lu9 command, to 
tlie £r^ ordered lum to be thrown into 
lit oT flie flames.* A precede&t so 
lor tliia sort of use of tlie wonliipped 
af^kean, for all purposes at least of 
poeiiy, to be fuHj sufficient. 

In tt&dhsoit to these agreeable testimonies, 
I liave alao liearcl, and, °e^ bafdlj add, with 
HBepnde and pleasitre, that parts of this work 
lava been rendered into Persian^ and hare 
ftaad their way to Ispahan. To this fact^ as I 
■■ wQfing to think it, atltislon is made in some 
S^7 verses, written many years since, by my 
JKflnd,Mr.Luttreil:— 

• rm told, dtmr Moore, toot Uija are twtg, 
(Can U b« true, fon lackj taan ?) 
Pr oraoDlIf ht. in the Persian tongue, 

ion 



That aome knowledge of the woric may 
kai<e really reached that region, appears not 
hfl^rohable from a passage in the Travels of 
lir. FWaer, who says, that ^' being delayed for 
•oaw Ibae at a town on the shores of the Cas- 
be waa lucky enough to be able to amuse 
with a copy of Lolla Kookh, which a 
Fbsaa had leni him.** 

Of tbe description of Balbec, in *'- Paradise 
mi the Peri," Mr.Carnc, in his Letters from 
the Kant, thus speaks : ** The description in LilU:i 
Baakh of the Jplmn and its ruins i^ cjEquisitely 
bitkfaL The minaret is on the cleclivity near 
•t haad, and there wanted only the muc22iu'd 
txj to break the silence.*' 

I sbaU jiow tax my readers' patience with 
baft ooe Saore of these generous Touchers. 
Wlbaftever of votnity there may be in citing such 
6rilNrtc% tbey show, at leost^ of what great value, 
sa poetry, is that prosaic quality, ioduatrji 
ai the reader of the foregoing pages is 
DOW fully apprized^ it was in a slow and 
laboHoas coUectiofi of small facts, that the first 
fiBQQilatioiis of this fanciful Romance were laid. 

The firi^idly testimony I have just referred 
tOi appeared, some years sincc^ in the form in 



leai Hchtifel hue l^lialam qood Abr&luun la 
I^Mpan «»lasttt lit q%tim fgncm adorarc nolait — St. Hi ikon, m 

t t^te Eoakh, Dlvertiia«aieni mk\k de Cb^nti «t At 




which I now give it, and^ if I reooUect right, in 

ithe Atheiueum : — 
" I embrace this opportoiuty of bearing my 
individual testimony (if it be of any value) to 
the extmordinary accuracy of filr. Moore, in 
hie topographical, antiquarian, and character* 
istie details, whether of coftiune, manners, or 
leas-changing monumenta, both in his Lalla 
Rookh and in the Epicurean. It has been my 
fortune to read his Atlantic, Bermudean, and 
American Odes and Epistles, in the countries 
and among the people to which and to whom 
they related ; 1 enjoyed also the ejcquisite 
delight of reading his Lalla Rookh^ in Persia 
itself; and I have perused the Epicurean, while 
all my recollections of Egypt and its still exist- 
ing wonders are as fresh as when I quitted the 
banks of the Xile for Arabia: — I owe it, 
therefore, as a debt of gratitude (though the 
payment is most inadequute)^ for the great 
pleasure I have derived fmm his productions, 
to bear my humble tealimoDy to their local 
fidelity. 

Among the Incidents connected with this 
work, I must not omit to notice the splendid 
Divertissement, founded upon it, which was 
acted at the Chateau Rm'nl of Berlin^ during 
the visit of the Grand Duke Nicholas to that 
capital, in the year 18*22- The different stories 
composing the work were represented m Ta- 
bleuux Yivans and songs; and among the 
crowd of royal and noble persooagea engaged 
in the performances^ I shall meotion those only 
who represented the principal characters, and 
whom I find thus enumerated in the published 
account of the Divertissementf 



' FidUdlin, Gratid-Nadr 
h\M%, Il>4 de Buch&rie 
l^U RodlLb . 

A«iruags«t>. 1« Gnod 
AbdaUaJi, Ffere d*AUrla 
L« Reine, »an epocuw 



Moflol I 

{ 
{ 



r CcmUe Haack, ( Marirkat 
t de Court. 
S.A.L Le Grand Dtic. 
S. A. I. La Grand Ducktstt. 
S. A. R. Lr Prmce GwU 

iaumc./rire du Roi. 
S. A. M. L<r Due de Cum* 

bfrfand. 
S,A:B, La FrincentLomiH 
RadxMU,'* 



Besides these and other leading personages, 



D«n«««, BerUa, \»'j&, Tht work conUlni a w^riei of coloured 
engraTlng*. reprrtctiiLlni sroupi» pa-ocoufoaif ltd In different 




xliv 



PREFACE. 



there were also brought id to action, under the 
various denominattoos of Seigneurs et Dftmes 
de Bueharic, Dames de Cathemire, Seigueura 
et Dames danaans k 1a F^te dcs Rosc^ &(^ 
nearly 150 persons. 

Of the manner and ftyle In which the Ta- 
bleaux of the difTerent stories are destTibed in 
tlie work froni which I cite, the following 
account of the f^crf^^rmunce of Panuiue and the 
Peri will iiiTord some specimen ".— 

♦* La dLH'orulion ri^preaentoit lea portes bril- 
lantea du Piiradk, enlources de nuages, Dans 
le premier tableau on voyoit la I\'ri, (riste et 
desol^e, couchee «ur le seuil de$ pories fermeea, 
et TAnge de luuii^re qui fui adcbre]<«e dcs con- 
solations et dea conseiL^. Lc ^eond repr^^nte 
le moment, oii la Peri, dana Tespoir tjue ce don 
lui ouvrira Tentr^e dn Paradis reeui^ille la der- 
ni^re goutte de sang que vient de verser le 
jeune guerrier Iiidien 

** La Peri et I'Ange de Inmi^re rcpondoient 
pleinement k riniage et a Tidee qii'on eat tentc 
de se faire de ccs deux indi vidua, et T impression 
qu*a faite gi^neralement la suite dea tableaux 
de cot cpismlo dclicat et interessant est loin de 
8^e0acer de notre snuvcnir/^ 

In this grand F^«^te, it appeara, originated 
the trnnalalion of Lalla Rookh into German 
verse, by the Baron de la Motte Fouc|ue ; and 
the circufOfitaeea which led him to undertake 
the task, are desoribed bj himself, in a Dedi- 
oatoiy Poem to th« Einpresa of Russia, which 
he hiis prefixed to his translation* As soon an 
the j>erfurmance, he tells us, had ended, Lalla 
Kwkh (the Empress herself) exclaimed, with 
A sigh, *' U it, tlien, all over? are we now at 
the doM of all that has given us so mncb de- 
light f and Uvm there no poet who will import 
to otheiis and to future titnes, some notion of 
ttie hnf>|>inc3ia we have cnjojed this evening?" 
(Ill ht^aring this appeal, a Knight of Cachmere 
(who is no other than the poetical Baron him- 
■aiO oomes forward and promises to attempt to 
prcaunt to the world ** the Poem itself in the 
niensurc of the original:" — wlicreupon Lalk 
Rookh, it is added, approvingly smiled. 



PREFACE 

TO 

THE SEVENTH VOLUME. 

Tub station assigned to **The Fudge Family ," 
in the following page^, immediately uStcr Lolla 
Kwikht agrees but too closely with the actual 
order in which these two works were original!/ 
written and pub]if»licd. The success, far ex* 
ceeduig my hopes and deserts, with which 
Lalla Rookh was immediately crowned, re- 
lieved me at once from the anxious feeling of 
responsibility under wluch, as my readen hare 
«een, that enterprise bad been commenced, and 
which continued for some lime to haunt me 
amidst all the enchantments of my task. I was 
therefore in the true holy day moiMl, when a 
dear friend, with whose name is associated 
^me of the brightest and pleasantcst hours of 
my post life *, kindly ofTered me a seat in his 
carriage for a short visit to Paris. This pro- 
posal I, of course, most gladly accepted ; and, 
in the autumn of the year 1817, found tnyaeU^ 
for the first time, in that ;^ay capital. 

As the restoration of the Bourbon dynaa^ 
was still of too recent a date for any amalgam* 
ation to have yet taken place between the new 
ami ancient order of things, all the most pro* 
minent features of both regimes were just then 
brought, in their fullest relief, into juxtApoat- 
finjt; ;isi.!, .u'cordjngly, Ihe result was such at 
t .^ ij_ ; r^i an unconcerned spectator quite 
as abundant matter for ridicule as for grave 
poltttcal eonjiideration. It would be difliculc, 
indeed, to convey to thotte who hmi not them- 
selves seen the Paris of that period, any clear 
notion of the anomalous aspect, both social 
and pihtical, which it then presc^nted. It was 
as ifj in the days f«u€ceeiling the Pelage, a 
iimall coterie of antediluvians had been suddenly 
evok«,*d fniui out of the deep to take the com- 
mand of a new and freshly starting world. 

To me, the abundant amusement and interest 
which such a scene could not but aibrd was a 
good deal heightened by my having, in my 
youthful days, been made acquainted with some 
of thow fiersonagef who were now most in- 
tercatod in the future success of the Legitimate 



t 




PREFACR 



Jdv 




oubc The Gomte D*Artc»i, or Monsieur, I 
IbiI met ill tlie year 1803-3t at Domngton 
Tmkt tbe ant of the £tfl of Moira, under 
vhoae prixicelj roof I used ofteo and long^ 
in ikoae dajs, to find a most hofpft^ble home. 
£^ saall party of distinguulied Frencli emi- 
gnm!ta irere alreadj itmying on m yiait in the 
hauam mhexk lionaieitr and lus luite arrired ; 
■id smoBg thode were the present King of 
Fiitt. and hm two brothers, the Due de 
\ and the Comte de Beaujolaia. 
doubt and uneasiness had, I remember, 
felt hj the two latter brothers, as to 
ihs receptioo they were likdj to encounter 
hvm ihe new guest ; and asi, in those times, a 
crapped and unpowdered bead was regarded 
pmaa ify as a symbol of Jacobinism, the Comte 
Besajolaia, who, like manj other joung men, 
wan lua kair in this fashion, thought it, on the 
|RMnt oocaaioti, most prudent. In order to 
•rcid all risk of oflTence, not only to put powder 
la his hair, but also to provide himself wiih an 
qpeue. This measure of precaution, 
; led to a slight incident after dinner, 
tlwntg** not very royal or digmfiedi was 
MisMit a«ditable to the social good-humour 
«f te fttture Charles X. On the departure of 
Ihe ladiea frcan the dining*room, we had hard] j 
onrtelTea in the old-fafihioned stylc^ 
the fire, when Monsieur, who had h^>- 
ta pljKe himself neict to Beaujolaia, 
A ^l^paa of the asdtitious tail, — w hieli, 
been rather careJesalj put on, h^X n 
•Izvggled out of its place. With a 
lortof aereani of jocular pleasure, as if delighted 
a& die diacoTery, Monsieur seized the stray 
and, bringing it round into fuU 
to the great amusement of the whole 
', popped it into poor grinning Beau» 
jolaisr iiMNith. 

Qa dt»e of the evenings of this short visit of 
V I remember Curran arriving tinex- 
\ on his way to London ; and, having 
loo late for dinner, he joined our party 
ill tbe evening. As the foreign portion of 
die eomfiany was then quite new to him, I was 
able to be useful, by informing him of the 
namcai fwik, and other particulars of the party 
ke fintnd assembled, from Monsieur himself, 



do tb« pr««eot Lord 




down to the old Due de Lorge and the Baron 
de RoUe. ^Vhen I hod gone through the 
whole Ibt, ^ Ah, poor fellows P* he exclaimed, 
with a mixture of fun and pathos in his look, 
truly Irish, '^Foor fellows, all dismounted 
cavalry ! " 

On the last evening of Monsieur*! stay, I 
was made to sing for him, among other songs, 
** Farewell Bessj I " one of my earliest attempts 
at musical composition. As soon as I had 
finished, he paid me the compliment of reading 
aloud the words as written under the music ; 
and most royal bavc»c did he make, as to this 
day I well remember, of whatever little sense 
or metre they could boast. 

Among my earlier poetic writings, more 
than one grateful memorial mav be found of 
the happy days I passed in this hospitable 
mansion •, —^ 

Of ftU mjr 110107 manm mnd moanllffht slstkti 
Oil 0iMUa|taa*« green Uwti* and breexj twIftaU. 

But neither verse nor prose could do any 
justice to the sort of impression I still retain of 
those long- vanished days. The library at 
Donington wasf extensive and vultiable ; and 
through the privilege kindly granted to me of 
retiring thither fur study, even when the family 
were absent, I fre<juently passed whole wcHfks 
alone in that fine librarj, indulging in all the 
first airy castle-building of authorship. The 
various projects, indeed, of future works that 
used til en to pa^s in fniitlesai suocessian through 
my mind, can be compared only to the waves 
as described by the poet, — 

" And one 00 »cM3Q«r toach'd the ihorr, and died, 
Tl)ui a new follower r««e/" 

With that library is also connected another 
of ray earlier poems, — ^the verse^j addressed to 
the Buke of Montpensier on his |>t)rtrait of the 
Lady Adelaide Forbes J; for it wns there thiit 
this truly noble lady, then in the first dawn of 
her beauty, used to sit for that picture ; while, 
in aooiher part of the libraiy, the Duke of 
Orleansii — engaged generally at that time with 
a volume of Clarendon, — was by such studies 
unconsciously preparing himself fnr the high 
and arduous destiny, which not only the Good 

injufttice^ whou filial wisli 1 know It If to kc«p allat Doolnff- 
toti exactly Ai bl« nobk> father teCt ht 
$ See p.da.orthUedltinti, 



A 



atlTi 



PREFACK 



Genius of France, but bb own sa^aeioui and 
intrcpicl spirit^ liiwl early marked out for him. 

I nee<i hiirdly aay how totally ditTerent were 
all the circumstances under which ilousieur 
himself and soiiie of hia foUowcra were again 
Been by me in the year 1817 ;■ — the same 
actorsi, indei*<l, but with an entirely new change 
of scenery and decorations. Among the variety 
of aspect* presented by this chan<^o, the ridjcu- 
lous certninly predominated ; m)r could a 
satirist who, bke Phili^ctetea, Wtt» smitten with 
a fancy for schooling at geese % ask any better 
aupply of audi gome than the hij^h pbiecs, in 
France, at that period, both lay and ecelesiaa- 
tie*l, aflurded. Not being versed, however, 
sufficiently in French politics to venture to 
meddle with them, even in »j>ort, I found a 
more ready conductor of laughter — for which 
I was then much in the mood — in those groupis 
of ridiculous En^^liah who were at that time 
swarming in all directions throughout Pari si, 
and of all whose various forms of cotkney* 
i«m and nonsense I endeavouretl, in the per- 
lonagea of the Fudge Family, to collect the 
concentrated essence. The result, as usual, 
fell very far short of what I ha<l myself precon- 
ceived and intemloii. But, making its appear- 
ance at such a crms^ the work brought with it 
that best seasoning of all such jettX'd'expnt^ the 
d-prvpog of the moment ; and, accordingly, in 
the race of successive editions, Lai la KrKikh 
was, for some time^ kept pace with by Miss 
Biddy Fudge. 

The series of trifles contained in this volume, 
entitled " Rhymes on the Road," were written 
partly as their title implie?» and partly at a 
subsequent period from memorandums made 
on the spot* This will account for so many 
of UuMe pieces being little better, I fear, than 
** prose fHoged with rhyme/* The journey 
to ft part of which those Rhymes owe<l their 
existence was commenced in company with 
Lonl John Russell in the autumn of the year 
1819. After a week or two pawed at Faris^ to 
enable Lord John to refer to Barillon*s Letters 
for a new edition of his Life of Lord Russell 
then preparing, we set out together for the 
Simplon. At Milan, the agreeable society 
of the late Lord Kinnalrd detained us for a 



Ike word* put by Aediu la tlM BMoCb of Phlloct^te*. 



few days -, and then my companion took the 
route to Geima, while 1 proceeded on a visit to 
Lord Byron, at Venice. 

It was duriug the journey, thus briefly de« 
scribed, I addressed the well-known Rcmon- 
strimce (o my noble friend f, which has of bite 
beeu frequently coupled witli my prophetic 
verses on the Duke of Wellington J, from the 
prescient spirit with which it so confidently 
looketl forward to all that Lord John baa since 
become in the eyes of the world. 

Of my visit to Lord Byron, — ^an event, to 
me so memorable, — ^I have already detailed 
&11 the most interesting particulars in my pub- 
lished Life of the poet; and shall here only 
cite, from that work, one passage, as having 
some reference to a picture mentioned in the 
following pages. ^*j!V8 we were conversing 
after dinner about the various collections of 
paintings I had seen thfit morning, on my 
saying that, fearful as I was of ever praising 
any picture, lest I should draw on myself the 
connoisseur's sneer, for my pain.% I would yet, 
to him, venture to own that I had seen a picture 
at Milan, which * The 11 agar! '$ he ex- 
claimed, eagerly interrupting me ; and it was, 
in fact, that very picture I was about to men- 
tion to him as having awakened in me, by the 
truth of its expression, more real emotion than 
any I had yet seen among the chefs'dtaturre of 
Venice." 

Li the society I chiefly lived with, while at 
Rome^ I considered myself singularly fortunate ; 
though but a blind and uninitiated worshipper 
of those powers of Art of which my companions 
were all high-priests* Caiiova himself, Chan- 
trey, Lawrence, Jackson, Turner, Eostlake, — 
such were the men of whose presence and 
guidance I enjoyed the advantage in Tiotii^ 
ail that un rival Kid Rome can boast of beanttfUI 
and grand. That I derived from this course 
of tuition any thing more thsJi a v^y bumbling 
consciousoess of my own ignorance and want 
of taste, in matters of art, I will not be so dis* 
honest as to pretend. But, to the stranger in 
Rome every step forms an epoch ; and, in addi- 
tion to all its own countless appeals to memory 
and imagination, the agreeable auspices under 
which I first visited all its memorable places 



t Sea Ki«c»11m«>mi« Pocnnt. } S«« p. 194. of (hit edlllon. 



I 



PREFACE. 



xlvil 



but render every impression I re- 
Yixid ami permanent. Tfauj, with 
mf reooUectian of the Sepulchre of St. Peter, 
and its erer^buming lawps^ for which splendid 
ipoi CaiMiva WMA then meditating a statue *, 
thcfc is alwa}ra ooonected in mj mind the ex> 
ekmmdoo which I heard break £rom Chantrcj 
■Aer gazing, for a few moments, in silence, 
thAt glorious site, — "What a place to 
far!" 

In ocMf of the poems contained in this vo- 
Ittmef aUuaioQ is made to an erening not easil j 
ftfj^tl^o, when Chantrej and mjself were 
takcft hf C«nova to the Borghese Palace, for 
the pn&rpoae of showing us, by the light of a 
Uiper — hm ^Tourifce mode of exhibiting that 
work — ^hia beautiful sutue of the Princess 
Bdij|)iudL, eaUed tbe Yenere Yincitnce. In 
Ckantrey a eagerness to point out some grace 
or effect that peculiarly struck him, he snntched 
the light out of Canova'a baud ; and to this cir* 
ewrttanoe the following passage of the poem 
referred to was meant to allude : — 

When h«, thy perr in art and (^mo, 
tiwtif o'er the marble with delight ; f 
And, vtaU* hli llDf 'riof hand would ileal 

O'er t^mrj graem the faper't rnjr», 
G«*< Um*. vUh lU Oie ffeo*rou4 tvil 
9mA naitcr-tplriu only feel. 

T%m bat «f Cwne — « tItaI'i praise. 

One of the days that still linger moat plea- 
austly in my memory, and which, I truat., neither 
Lady CaJcott nor Mr. Eastkke have quite Ibr- 
goiten, was that of our Tisit together to th'^ 
FaJatloe Mounts when, as we sauntered about 
that pictuf^etque spot, enjoying the varied views 
of Roi&e which it commcirtdBf they mitde me, 
libr the first time, acquaint c<] with Guidi's 
spirited Ode on the Ar«.!iidjans, in wbieh therti 
ia poetry enough to make amends for lill the 
a oM cn ae of his rhyming brethren. Truly und 
gnndly does he exclaim, — 

Mparlit aneor i Roma 
li T«n^ col gna butto ft terra ; 



Son plOM dl iplendor la lue rulp«, 
B a fraa cmere cuo il moitra •temo.*' 

With Canora, while Fitting to Jackson for 
a portrait ordered by Chan trey, I had more 
IImd oooe some interesting conversation, — or, 
tmtber, listened while he spoke, — respecting 



• A statue, I t>ell«v«, of Ptu« VL 

t S«a Bhpoea m\ th« Hoed* Bxtr. sv. 



the political state of Europe at that period, 
and ihoge *^ bricconi,** as he st^'led them, the 
sovereigns of the Holy Alliance ; and, before I 
lefl Rome, he kindly presented to me a set of 
engravings from some of hia &De»t statues, to- 
gether with a copy of the beautifully printed 
coUection of Poems, which a Roman poet, 
named Mis^sirtni, had written in praise of his 
different ** Marmi," 

When Lord John Russell and my self parted, 
at Milan, it was agreed between us, that afler a 
short visit to Rome, and (if practicable within 
the allowed time) to Naples, I was to rejoin 
him at Genoa, and from thence accompany him 
to England. But the early period for which 
Parliam^ent was summoned, that year, owing to 
the viotcnt proceedings at Manchester, rendered 
it necessttry for Lord John to hasten his return 
to England. I was, therefore, most fortunate, 
under Buch eireu instances, in being permitted 
by my friends Chantrtiy and Jackson to join in 
their journey homeward ; through which lucky 
arrangement, the same precious privilege I had 
enjoyed, at Rome, of bearing the opinions of 
such practised judges, on all the great works of 
art I saw in their company, was continued 
afterwards to me through the various collec- 
tions we visited tc^gcthcr, at Florence, Bologna, 
Modeoa, Parma, Milan, and Turin* 

To some of those pieturet; and statues that 
most took my fancy, during my tour, allusions 
will be found m a few of the poems contained 
in thia volume. But the great pleasure I de- 
rived from these and many other such works 
aroftc far more from the poniiticul nature of their 
subjects than from any judgment I bad learned 
to form of their real merit as works of art^ 
— a line of lore in which, notwithstanding my 
course of schooling, I remained, I fear, unen- 
lightened to the lost. For all that wcis loet 
upon me-, however, in the halls of Art, I was 
more than consoled in the cheap picture- 
gallery of Nature ; and a glorious suneet I 
witnessed in ai^cending the SLinplon is still 
remembered by me with a depth and freabness 
of feeling which no one work of art I saw in 
the galleries of Italy has lefl behind. 

I have now a few worda to devote to asome^ 
what kindred subject, with which a poem or 



t A flight altoralloi) here hoi rtQdered thett^ Teriei mora 
truo to the actual ftct tbnn thc7 were In Ihelr original forizi. 



J 



xUiii 



PEEFACE. 



two contained in tlie following ptgefl are doHel/ 
connected.* In my Preface to the I'irrt Vo» 

liime of this colJection, I briefly tiotice^l the 
taste for Private TheQirical Ptrfornmaces wliieh 
prevailed during the latter half of the lai*t cen- 
tury among the higher ranks in Ireland, llib 
tfljJte eontinuetl for n<?arly twenty ycjirs to fur- 
vivc the epoch of the Uoioii, and in the per- 
fonmafices of the Private Theatre of Kilkenny 
gave forth its hist, as well aa, perhaps, brightrat 
flashes. The life and soul of this institution 
was our manager, the late Mr. Richard Power, 
a gentleman who could boast a larger circle of 
attached friends, and through a life more free 
tVoin shallow or iilloy, than iiny individual it 
has ever been my lot to know. No livelier 
proof, indeed, could be required of the sort of 
feeling entertained towards him tban was once 
shown in the reception given to the two^ follow* 
ing homely lines which occurred in n Prologue 
I wrote to lie spoken by Mr. Corry in the cha- 
racter of Vapid. 

'Til A4ld our worth J muugrr intemli 

To help mj nlifht, and h*^ you know, hai fHaodi.t 

Tliese few simple words I wrote with the as- 
sured conviction that they would produce more 
efTeot, from the homefclt truism they contained, 
tlum could be effected by the most laboured 
burst of eloquence; and the result was just 
what I had anticipated^ for the house rung, for 
a coLisi<lerable time, with the heartiest plaudits. 
The chief comic, or rather farcical force of 
the company lay in uiy friend Mr. Corry, and 
" longo intervallo," myself; and though, aa 
usual, with low coroeiliauft, we were much 
looked down upon by the lofty lonhi of the 
buskin, many was the sly joke we used to 
indolge together, at the expense of our heroic 
brethren* Some waggish critic^ indeed, is said 
to have declared that of all the jjersonages of 
our theatre he mo^it adtuired the prompter, — 
" hocauae he waa leaat seen and best heard."" 
But this joke was, of courtw?, a mere good- 
humoured slander. There were two, at least, 
of our dramatic corps, Sir Wrlxon Becher and 
Mr. Rot he, whose powers, as tragic actors, few 
an^ateurs htre crer equalled ; and Mr, Gorry 
— perhaps alone of all our company — would 
have been sure of winning laureU on the publie 
stage* 



As to my own share in these representatioiQS^ 
the following list of my most suooesaful cIa^ 

racters will show how remote from the line of 
the Heroic was the small orbit through wbick 
I ranged ; my chief parts having been Sai 
*'' Raising the Wind,** Hobin Roughheaii, Mu 
Sacli^ in the *^ Mountaineers," Spado, and Peep- 
ing Tom, In the jiart of Spado there occur 
several allusions to that gay rogue's shortness 
of stature* which never failcti to l>e welcomed 
by my auditors witb laughter and cheers; and 
the words *^* Even Sanguino allows I am a 
clever little fellow*' was always a signal for 
this sort of friendl}^ explosion. One of the 
Bongs, indeed, written by O'Keefe for the cha- 
racter of Spado so much abounds with points 
thus pcrsonidly applicable, that many supposed^ 
with no great compliment either to my poetry 
or my modesty, that the song had been written, 
expressly for the occasion, by myself. The 
following is the verse to which I allude, and for 
the ;)oetry of which I was thus made respon> 
sible : — 

'* Tho-ufh boni to be lktlc*i my fate, 

YH in WiU the frrttt Alv%Kndt'T \ 
And, when I walk undrr «. g4tt, 

I've DO ntH>d to ilofip llko ■ frander. 
t*m no Lanky, loan hoddf -doddy , 

¥r'bo*« pap«r-klt« tAlU In Ibc *kj; 
Thougli wmnlinji two Tect, In my bodf . 

In tmil, 1 uu thirty feel hl|;h,'* 

Some further account of the Kilkenny The- 
atre, as well as of the history of Private The«- 
trieals in genera^ will be found in an article I ' 
wrote on the subject for the Edinburgh Re- 
view, vol. xlvi. No. 92. p. 368. 



PREFACE 

TO 

THE EIGHTH VOLUME. 

On my return from the interesting visit to 
Rome, of which nome account has l>een given 
in the pret^dling Preface, I took up my abode 
in Paris, and, being joined there by my family, 
continued to reside in that capital, or its en- 



PREFACR 



xlix 



m 

I eooid not 



clow of the year 1822. 
nny^ is witbout its clouds, 
rour^c^ my Bkare of such 
iLiid tiim long eBtrmngemeni 
happy En^lisk borne, towards which 
my hmSif more fondly than 

myMM, hmX ^v difficuhios of a 

pccnuimry naiur«^^ jiii l'u amount, in 

vSkkil I laad liecn in^ ' the conduct of 

who acted ns my deputj in the maaXX 
I bdd mt Bermuda. 
Thfli I sfaonkl ever bare oome to be chosen 
tv such m emplojiiieni seems one of those 
ihafci or sBooiaUet of humao deflUox which 
hiflfe an oi€kuaj qieculation i and went fur^ 
iadtidy to Fcaiiie Beaunuu-chiiia* notion of the 
mit ot gtaiMJard hy whieh^ too frequently, 
qnilificalkm for |iUce b regulat«d> — ** II fallut 
mtaleiilalanir ; ce Ait un daneetir qui Tobtint/* 
Bat IwweTer mtich^ in this instance, I suf* 
mj want of schooling in matters of 
ami more especialW from my having 
tkc ordinary precaution of requiring 
watnsitf Iraai my deputy, I was more than 
Jbr all inch embarrassment, were it 
tines aa miiclt, by the eager Itindncsa 
witk wludi fHenda pre«ed forward to help 
lo riliror me from my diffieoltiea. Could I 
vmture to name the persons, ^ — and they were 
aaoy, — who thtu roltinteered their aid, it 
voold be Ibttnd tbey were all of them men 
wlme charactert enhanced such a service^ and 
that, in all« the name and the act reiected 
Qfioci eadi oUier* 
I sittH ao Ihr liil the veil in which such deli- 
seeks to shroud itaelf, as to men- 
tion favidly the manner in which one of these 
knid frieoda, — htmadf poasessing but limited 
to oontribttte to the object 
from my embarrassments. After 
in his letter, to my mlafortuneSf and 
**tlie noUe way,"* oa he was pleased to saj^ 
♦• ta which I bore them^" he add*, — "would 
it be very impertinent to say, tlmt I have^OOf. 
entirely at your disposal, to be paid when you 
like ; and as much more that I could advance, 
upon any reasonable secmrity, payable in seven 
years ?" The writer conclude* by apologising 
anaiously and delicately for **' the liberty which 
he thus takes,** assuring mc that ^"^ he would not 
hare made the offer if be did not feel that he 
wofitd moat readily accept the some usai^tancc 



from me.** I select this one instance firom among 
the mady which that trying event of my b*fe 
emibles me to adduce, both on aix'ount of the 
deliberate feeling of manly regard which it 
numifests, and also from other considerations 
which It would be out of place here to mention, 
but which rendered so genuine a mark of 
frienil^hip from such a quarter pecuUarl/ 
touching and welcome to me. 

'Wlien such were the men who hastened tr> 
my aid in this emergency, 1 nec<l hardly say, it 
was from no squeamish pnde^ — for the pride 
would have been in receiving favours from such 
bands, — that I came to the resolution of grate- 
fully declining their offers, and endeavouring 
to work out my delivOTanoe by my own eflbrts. 
With a credit still fresh in ihe market of li- 
terature, and with publishers ready as ever to 
risk their thousands on my name, I could not 
but feel that, however gratifying was the gene- 
rous Ecal of such friends, I should best show 
that I, in some degree, deserved their offers, by 
declining, under such circumstances, to accept 
them. 

^leanwhile^ an attachment Imd issued against 
me from the Court of Admiralty ; and as a 
negotiation was about to be opened with the 
American claimants, for a reduution of their 
large demand upon me, — supjiosed, at that 
time, to amount to six thousand pounds, — it 
was deemed necessary tbat, pern ling tlic treaty, 
I should take up my abode in France. 

To write for the meaoB of daily subsistence, 
and even in most instances to "forestall the 
alow harvest of the brain,** was for me, un- 
luckily, no novel task. But I had now, in 
addition to these home calk ufton the Muse, a 
new, painful, and, in its irst aspect, overwhelm^ 
ing exigence to provide for; and, certainly, 
Paris, swarming throughout as it wae, at that 
period, with rich, gay, and dissipated English, 
was, to a person of my social habits and midti- 
farioua acquaintance, the very worst possible 
place that could have been resorted to for even 
the semblance of a quiet or sludioi^ home. 
The only tranquil, and» therefore, to me, most 
precious portions of that period were the two 
aunimers passed by my faoiily und myself with 
our kind Spanish friends, the V*******bi, 
at their beautiful place, La Butte Coaslin, on 
the road up to Bellevue. There, in a cottage 
belonging toM. y **♦♦♦♦ * 1^ and but a 



PREFACIL 



few slops from hia hoiiso, we contrived to 
conjure up an apparition i>fSloi5€rlon* ; ontl I 
was »1>le for gome lime to work with a I'celiTig 
of comfort and home. I nscd fretiueiitlj to 
puss tlie tD(#niing in rflmMin"]: alone tliroygh 
the noble park of St. Cloud, with no appaiatua 
for the work of aulhorsliip but my menio- 
rsyidiini-b^xjk and pencils fornnn;^!: sententcB to 
run sniLH>ih and inouhiinipr vt'rst^s into shape. 
In the evcriinj^s I grencralU joined with Madainc 
V*******l in Itdiiin duetts, or, with far 
more pleasuro, sat as liHt<?ner» while she sung 
to the S|»ani«h «ruitnr those sweet son^s of her 
own country to which few voices eoutd do such 
justice. 

One of the pleasant circiirastnnces connected 
with our ."summer vi*jts to La Hutte wan the 
near neigflibonrhood oj" our frieudj Mr. Kenny, 
the Jively dramatic writer, wlw was lodgetl 
picturesquely in the remains of the Palace of 
tho King** Aunts, at Belk'vue. T remember, 
on my first telling Kenny the particulars of my 
Bermuda miNhap^ Ids saying, after a paiise of 
real feeliorr, ** Well, — it*S lucky youVe a poet; 
— a jihihjiiopher never could have home it." , 
Washinjrton Irving tdM> wft5» tor a short time, 
our vi.siter; and still recolle<^Ls I trust, his 
reading to me some parts of his then forth- 
coming work, Braeobridgre HsiH, iis we sat 
together on tlie grass walk that leads to the 
Roeher, at La Butte. 

Amon^ the writings, then but in embryo, to 
whieh I looked forward for the means of my 
onfranehisenient, one of the most important, 



or Epistles ; and with this view sketcbcd out a 
story, on an Egyptian subject, difftirlng not 
much from that whieh, some years at\er, formed 
the groundwork of the Epit'iirean. After la- 
bouring, however, Tor fiome months, at this 
experiment, amidst interruption, dissipation, 
and distraction, which might well put all tlie 
Nine Muses to flight, I gave up the attempt 
in despair; — fully convinced of the truth of 
that warning conveyed in some early verses of 
my own, addresiied to the Invisible Girl: — 

Oh hint to the binl^ 'tU nrtlrcmcnt &loo« 
Can haUaw Itt hyir|} ar ennoble iU tcma : 
Like jou, with a veil of ii?cluiion twt«t«n, 
Hit iKMig to thci world let him utler unterti, 
Ac. act 

It was, indeed, to the secluded life I ledduring 
the years 1813 — ISlfi, in a hme cottage among 
the fields, in Derbyslnrc, that I owed the in- 
s|jiratian, wJiatever may have been its vaUiei 
of *ome of the best and most popular }K>rtiona 
of Lallii Rookh. It was amidst tlie enows of 
two or three Derbyshire wiutew that I found 
myself enubled, by that eoneentratioti of tJiougbl 
which retirement alone give»i to call uparoiicid 
me MniiQ of the Esuunie^t of tho»e Eofitern sccdci 
which have since been welcomed in India itadf, 
as almost native to it* clime. 

But^ abortive as had now been all mj eiTbrta 
to woo the shy spirit of Foeay, amidst such 
unquiet scenes, the course of reading I found 
time to pursue, on the subject of l^ypt^ waa 
of no email service in storing my mind with 
the various" knowledge resjiecting that country, 
whieh some years later I turned to account, in 



as well as most likely to be productive, was writing the story of the Epicurean* The kind 



my intended Life of Sheridan. But I soon 
ftiund tlnit, at such a distance from all thofie 
living authorities from whom alone I could 
gain any interesting information respecting 
the private life of one who left behind him 



facilities, indeed, towards tins object, which 
some of the most ditilinguished French scholars 
and artists ullbrded me, are still remembered 
by me with thankfulneii. Beiides my old 
acquaintance^ Denon, whose drawings of Egypt, 



so little epistolary correspondence,, it would be , then of some value^ I frcfjuentlv consultctl, I 
wholly impossible to proceed satisfactorily with , found I^ Ions, Fourier and Mona. Langl^ no less 
this task. Accordingly I wrote to Mr. Murray prompt in placing books at my disposal* With 
and Mr. Witkic, who were at thai time the in* i Humboldt, also, who was at that time in Paris, 

1 had more than once some conversation on the 
subject of Egypt, and remember his expressing 
himself in no very laudatory terms respecting 
the labours of the French MMmuUi that country. 
I had now been foiled and frustrated in twu 



i-ende<l publishers of the work, to aj>prize tliem 
of ihh temfKirary obt^fjicle to its progresa. 

Being thus balHed in the very first of the 
few resources I had looked to, I next thought 
of a Romance in veraCi in tho form of Letters, 



'* A hitlr ool, with irttt trov» 



t 8Mip.7l.ortblt 



PREFACR 



of those literary projects on which I had 
counted nMMt icmgiiin^y in the cahniUtion of 
mj reaofuroes; and, though I had found sufficient 
time to furnish mj musical publisher with the 
Ei^th Number oi the Irish Mdodies, and also 
a Xnmber of the National Airs, these works 
alone, I knew, would jield but an insufficient 
euppl J, compared with the demands so dosdj 
and threateninglj i»*«g«"g over me. In this 
difficulty I called to mind a subject, — the 
Eastern allegorj of the Lores of the Angels, 
—on which I had, some jears before, begun 
1 prose story, but in which, as a theme for 
poetrr, I had now been anticipated bj Lord 
BjTon, in one of the most sublime of his 
manj poeticnl miraclea, ^ Heaven and Earth.** 
Knowing how soon I should be lost in the 
shadow into which so gigantic a precursor 
would cast me, I had endesTOured, bj a speed 
of eompnsttion which must hare astonished 
mj habitunilj slow pen, to get the start of 
mj noble friend in the time of publication, 
and thus aiKirded m jsdf the sole chance I could 
perhaps expect, under such unequal rivalry, 
of attneting to my work the attention of the 
public In this humble speculation, however, 
I failed ; for both works, if I recollect right, 
made their appearance at the same time. 

In the meanwhile, the negotiation which had 
been entered into with the American claim- 
ants, for a reduction of the amount of their 
demands upon me, had continued to ^ drag its , 
slow length along ;** nor was it till the month 
of September, 1822, that, by a letter from j 
the Messrs. Longman, I received the welcome , 
intelligence that the terms offered, as our ' 
ultimatum, to the opposite party, had been at 
last accepted, and that I might now with safety 
return to England. I lost no time, of course, ; 
in availing mjself of so welcome a privil^e ; 
and as all that remains now to be told of this 
trying episode in my past life may be comprised 
within a small compass, I shall trust to the 
patience of my readers for tolerating the recital. 

On arriving in England I learned, for the 
first time, — having been, till then, kept very 
much in Harlrno«ii on the subject, — that, after 
a long and frequently interrupted course of 
negotiation, the amount of the claims of the \ 
American merchants had been reduced to the 
ram of one thousand guineas, and that towards 
the payment of this the uncle of my deputy, — 



a rich London merchanti — had been brought, 
with some difficulty, to contribute three hun- 
dred pounds. I was likewise informed, that a 
very dear and distinguished friend of mine, to 
whom, by his own desire, the state of the nego- 
tiation was, from time to time, reported, had, 
upon finding that there appeared, at last, some 
chance of an arrangement, and leamii^ also the 
amount of the advance made by my deput v*s 
relative, inunediately deposited in the hands of 
a banker the remaining portion ij50L) of the 
required sum, to be there in readiness for the 
final settlement of the demand. 

Though still adhering to my original pur- 
pose of owing to my own exertions alone the 
means of relief from these difiiculties, I yet 
felt a pleasure in allowing this thoughtful de- 
posit to be applied to the generous purpose for 
which it was destined ; and having employed 
in this manner the 750/., I then transmitted to 
my kind friend, — I need hardly say with what 
feelings of thankfulness, — a cheque on my 
publishers for the amount. 

Though this efibrt of the poet's purse was 
but, as usual, a new launch into the Future, — 
a new anticipation of yet unborn means, — 
the result showed that, at least in tkU instance, 
I had not counted on my bank **• im umbUms^ 
too sanguinely ; for, on receiving my pub- 
lishers' account, in the month of Jane foUowiag, 
I found 1000/. placed to my credit from the 
sale of the Loves of the Angels, and 500L from 
the Fables of the Holy Alliance. 

I must not omit to mention, that, among the 
resources at that time placed at my disfiosal, 
was one small and sacred sum, which had been 
set apart by its young possessor for some such 
beneficent purpose. This fund, amounting to 
about 300/., arose from the proceeds of the 
sale of the first edition of a biographical work, 
then recently published, which will long be 
memorable, as well from its own merits and 
subject) as from the lustre that has been since 
shed back upon it from the public career of its 
noble author. To a gift from such hands 
might well have been applied the words of Ovid, 

— ^-^-^ <c«ptiiitnii MJDpcr 
If onen foiit, anctor quae pretioM faeit. 

In this volume, and its immediate succesvor, 
will be found collected almost all those delin- 
quencies of mine, in the way of satire, which 
have appeared, from time to time, in the pub- 



lii 



PREFACE, 



He jounuilfs during the bat twentj or thrrtj 
jearv. Tbc commenU and ootic«8 required to 
|]arow light on the^e political trifles must be 
reserved lor our next volume. 



PREFACE 



THE NINTH VOLUME. 

In one of those KoUce«, no less friend I j than 
thcv are able and fplrited, -which tins new 
Kdition of my Poeticid Works ha* edlud forth 
(V'om a leading jiotiticnJ journwl, I fiml, in 
reference lo the numerous iatiricaJ pic^ea con* 
tained in these vohmicfl, the following irug- 
gestion*; — •*It is now more than a quarter 
of a century since this bundlL' of political pas- 
qtimad^ set the BritiJih public in a roar ; und 
though the events to which they tdlude raaj 
be well known to every reader^ 

♦' CmJ(4« ofUTun* tr«pid«Ht Kttt 
CUudete lUAtrum,'* 

there are many persons now forming a port of 
the literary pubfic, who Imve rome into ex- 
istence since they happened, and who cannot 
be expected, even if they had the loisure and 
opportunity to rummage the files of our oM 
newspapers for a history of the perishable facta 
on which Mr, Moore liaa so often rested the 
flying artillery of bis wlL Many of those fact^ 
will be considered l>encath the notice of the 
grave historian ; and it is, therefore, tneumhent 
on Mr. Moore — if he wishes his fxiliiicnl 
srpiibs, imbued as they ore with a wit and hu- 
mour quite Aristophanic^ to be relished, as 
they deserve to be re I ia bed, by our great-grnnci- 
children — to preface them with a rapid sum- 
mary of the events which gave them birth" 

Witlioui pausing here to say how gratifying 
it is lo me to find my long course of Anli- 
Tory warfare thus tolerantly, and even gene- 
foualy spoken of, and by so distinguishes! on 
organ of pulilic opinion, I aholl as brie% as I 
can, advert to the writer** friendly suggestion, 
and tlien mention some of those reaiions which 
have induced me to adopt it. That I was dts- 
poseil, at first, to annex some such commentary 



to thb series of squibs, may hmre been eoUectcd 
from the co Deluding sentences of my last Fr^ 
face ; but a little further oonnderattoo has led 
me to abandon this intention. 

To that kind of satire which deals only with 
the lighter follies of social life, with the passing 
modes, whims, and scandal of the day, such 
UIustratiTe comments become, aAer a abort 
tnae, necesiary. But the true preserving sail 
of political satire is its applicability to future 
times and generatioiia, as well as to ihtw*^ 
which hod first called it forth ; its power of 
transniitting the scourge of ridicule through 
succeeding periods, with a lash still fresh for the 
back of the bigot and the oppressor, under what- 
ever new shape they may present Cbemselves. 
I eon hardly flatter myself with the persuaKiiMi 
that any one of the satirical pieces oontjuned 
in this Volume is likely to possess this principle 
of vitality; but I feel quite certain that, ttiikuul 
it, not all the notes and illustrations in whii-h 
even the industry of Dutch cominentatorship 
could embalm them would insure to these trilles 
a life much beyond the present hour. 

Already, to many of them, that sort of relish 

— by far the least worthy source of their suc- 
cess — which the names of living victims lend 
to such sallies^ has bec*ome^ in the course of 
time, wanting. But, as for as their apposite- 
ness to the parsing politicd events of the day 
has yet been tried — and the dates of these sa- 
lirei range over a j>eriod of nearly thirty yean 

— their ridicule, thanks to the undying nature 
of human absurdity, appears to have lost, as 
yet, but little of the original freshness of its 
first applieation. Nor is this owing to any pe- 
culiar felieity of aim, in the satire itself, but to 
the sameness, throughout that period, of all its 
original objects; — the unchangeable nature 
of that spirit of Monopoly by which, under all 
its various impersonations, commercial, religion^ 
and political, these satires liail been first pro- 
voked. To refer but to one instance, the Corn 
Question, — assuredly, the entire appoeiteness, at 
this very moment, of nucli versicles as the fol- 
lowing redounds far less to the credit of pocvy 
than to the disgrace of legii^ation, — 

I1u« cotm jrou« rnj t»nl« tiiiu drtl^t to tormpol «U 
Tlia Peart of the rtmim about cbeAp'nlnf tbelr corn, 

Wban joti know If od« tiann't a wrrj btfk fVDtal, 
'TIa bardljr «rorth vliHa to t>e vary blsb-boni. 

Tlmtf being by nature so little prone to spleen 



L 



J 



PREFACE. 



Ill] 




I riionld jet have frequented so 
tbe fhomy poihs oftatire^ has always to 
those beat iicqtuiitecl with me^ been 
offixrpnse. By aupp<wing the bnagi- 
owerer, to be, in such cases, the sole 
m tkiei prompter of the satire — which, in my 
ova iiiitiacc, I must say, it has g<?nerally been 
^-fs ewj KilutioD is found for the difficulty. 
The iiiMg readin^ess of fancy which, with hut 
Utile Ik%> frooi reality, can deck out ^* the 
O^Vllua (if the minute'* with all possible attme* 
tei, will likewise be able, when in the vein, 
ti» shower ridicule on a political ad%*ersary, 
▼tl&oiit allowing a single feeling of real bitter- 
I BOi to mix itself with the operation. Even 
I Ikil sternest of all satirist*, Dante, who, not 
I eoutent with the penal iire of the pen, kept an 
Infieroo ever ready to receive the victims of his 
I irrath, — even Dante, on becoming acquainted 
vitb some of tlie persons whom be had thus 
dposacd, not cmly revoked their awful sentence, 
hu even iKinourcd them with warm praise * ; 
mA pvolnblyt on a Uttic further acquaintance^ 
viMild hnve adinttted them into bis Paradiso. 
llnui looeely and shollowly even the sub- 
oi Dante could strike it« roots in 
Us mm heart md tnemory. it is easy to con- 
Ught and passing may be the feeling 
flfiioatility with which a parti zan in the field of 
plies his laughing warfare ; aud how 
it may happen that even the pride of 
his mark outlives but a short time the 
l^jbi of llie akaft 

I CBMioC dlsroisa from my hands these jxjltti- 
«altrille»,— 

** Tltl« nrsnb of chcmn that lettl^d cm m j pen* 

without venturing to add that I have now to 
ooimecl with theraonenummful recolkction — 
one loss Urom Among the circle of those I biive 
k^gefl looked up to with affection and n'lmi- 
mian — which I little thought, wbcu I bcgim 
this 9eriei of prefatory sketches, I ^iKmld hiive 
lo vaoam belbre their close. I need hanily add, 
that, in thus aUudlng to a great light of the so- 
cial aod political world recently gone out^ I 
the late Irord lloUand. 
It may be recollected, perhaps, that, in men* 




tinning some partictdan respecting on early 
squib of mine, -^ the Parody on the Prince 
Regent** Letter, — I spoke of a dinner at which 
I was present on the very day of the first pub- 
lication of that Parody, when it was the subject 
of much conversation at table^ and none of the 
party, except our host, had any suspicion that 
I was the author of it. lliis host was Lord 
Holland ; and as such a name could not but 
lend value to any anecdote connected with lite- 
rature, I only forbore the pleiuiure of adding 
such an ornauicrit to my page-, from knowing 
that Lord Holland had long viewed with dis- 
approbation and regret much of that conduct 
of the Whig party towards the Regent in 
1812-13t» of the history of which this squib, 
and the welcome reception it met with, forms 
an bumble episode. 

Lord Holland himself, in addition to his 
higher intellectual accoinpliahmenla, jxissc^sed 
in no ordinary degree the talent of writing 
easy and playful ver9 (fesocicie; and, among 
the instances I could give of the lightness of 
bis hand at such friJles, there is one no lesis 
characteristic of his good-nature than his wit, 
aa it actHJmpfmietl a copy of the octavo edition 
uf Bayle|, which, on hearing me rejoice one 
day that so jigreeable on uuthor hail been at hust 
inatle fiortable, he kindly ordered for me from 
Paris. 

So late, indeed, as only a month or two 
before his !ortlsbip*s death, he was employing 
himself, with all bis usual cheerful eagerness, 
in translating some verses of Melastasio ; and 
occasionally consulted both Mr. Rogers and 
myself as to different readings of some of the 
lines. In one of the letters which I receiveti 
from liim while thus occupied, I find the follow- 
ing postscript : — 

♦♦ 'Til tbiii 1 Itjrn Ih' ItaJtfUi*i io«f, 
Nor deem [ tfoA hta Tntranlnf mrtttxg^ 
But with rouKb BnglUh to comtilnt^ 
The ftweciuiett thal*i in cf^ry Uno, 
Akki fur ymir Muftv, u^d tiot tor mine. 
Sett at ant If will not qnll the Kture i 
Wo tnust h*te that, mwl — Utile Morr. 

He then adds, " I send you, too, a melaneholy 
Kpigram of mine, of which 1 have »een many, 
alaa, witness the truth : — 



• lailiCbMwitoWpraluttef? wnimlf fome tM-noni whom ' to bo pubUtho*), wbldi Lard MoIUikI left bcbind hitn, «pn* 

NT* akmmdt S«e Ko«coio, Diicarto muI Ttsto 4i ttAvAti^ Minnoirf orbU own tltnei and of thoN? ImiDcdlafeljr 

txr«e«sdiiif lb em, 
$ to tixteoti veluin^t, publiihed at Faii*^ lif Deioer. 



t TUv sUIItt M«ii whdMivvr tlioic Taliubk puperi eo»e 



liv 



PREFACE. 



" A mirif>t«r*» iiniirer ii «l«ajt ho kfiul ! 

I ttarre, aod hv trlU me he'll ki*ep inc in mind. 

Hoi/ Mb ptftmls*; God kuowi, would my spiriU restore : 

Lrt htm k^rp mc ~and, faith, I will aik for no more.'* 

Tlic only jiortion of the mass of trifles con- 
ialiu^l in tbis volume, thut first found its way 
to the public eye through any more responsible 
channel than a newspaper, was the Letters of 
the Fudge Family in England, — a work which 
was sure, from its very nature, to encounter 
the double risk of being thought dull as a mere 
sequel, and light and unsafe as touching on 
f«>llies crjnnected with the name of Keligion. 
Inti> the question of the comparative dulness 
of any of my productions, it is not for me, of 
iumrmt, to enter ; but to the charge of treating 
r«;ligious subjects irreverently, I shall content 
iiiyw'lf with replying in the words of Pascal, 
— "II a bien de la difR>rence entrc rire de la 
religion et rire de ceux qui la profanent par 
leurs opinions extravagantes/* 



PREFACE 

TO 

THE TENTH VOLUME. 

The Story which occupies this volume was 
intended originally to he told in verse ; and a 
great portion of it was at first written in that 
form. This fact, as well as the character, per- 
hni)s, of the whole work, which a good deal 
partakes of the cast and colouring of poetry, 
have been thought suHicient to entitle it to a 
place in this general collection of my poetical 
writings. 

How little akin to romance or poesy were 
s<»me of the circumstances under which this 
work was first projected by me, the reader may 
have seen fmm a prece<ling preface*; and the 
following rough outline, which I have found 
among my pai)ers, dated Paris, July 25. 1820, 
will show l)Oth my first general concejition, or 
fore-shadowing of the story, and likewise the 
extent to whicli I thought right, in aAerwanN 
working out this design, to reject or modify 
B«)me of its details. 

** Jk'gan my Egyptian Poem, and wrote 

• PreC«cetoth« Eifhth Volume, p. xl. of thl« edition. 



about thirteen or fourteen lines of it. The 
story to be told in letters from a young Epicu* 
rean philosopher, who, in the second century 
of the Christian era, goes to Egypt for the 
purpose of discovering the elixir of immortality, 
which is supposed to be one of the secret* of 
the Egyptian priests. During a Festival on 
the Nile, he meets with a beautiful maiden, 
the daughter of one of the priests lately dead. 
She enters the catacombs, and disappears. He 
hovers around the spot^ and at last finda the 
well and secret passages, &c. by which those 
who are initiated enter. He sees this maiden 
in one of those theatrical spectacles which 
formed a part of the subterranean Elysium of i 
the Pyramids — finds opportunities of convers- 
ing with her — their intercourse in this myste- 
rious region described. They are discovered ; 
and he is thrown into those subterranean pri- 
sons, where they who violate the rules of Initi- 
ation are confined. He is liberated from 
thence by the young maiden, and taking flight 
together, they reach some beautiful rcgicNii, 
where they linger, for a time, delighted, and 
she is near becoming a victim to his arts. But 
taking alarm, she flies ; and seeks refuge with 
a Christian monk, in the Thebaid, to whom her 
mother, who was secretly a Christian, had con- 
signed her in dying. The struggles of her 
love with her religion. A persecution of the 
Christians takes place, and she is seized (chiefly 
through the unintentional means of her lover), 
and suffers martyr<lom. The scene of her mar- 
tyrdom described, in a letter from the Solitary 
of the Thebaid, and the attempt made by the 
young ))hilosopher to rescue her. He is carried 
off* from thence to the cell of the Solitary. 
Ills letters from that retreat, after he has be- 
come a Christian, devoting his thoughts 
entirely to re{)entance and the rccollecti(m of 
the beloved saint who hatl gone before him. — 
I{ I don't make something out of all this, the 
deuce is In't.** 

According to this plan, the events of the 
story were to be told in Letters, or Epistohiry 
Poems, addressed by the philosopher to a 
young Athenian friend ; but, for greater vari- 
ety, as well as convenience, I nrterwards ilis- 
tributed the task of narration among the chief 
I>ersonages of the Tale. The great dilliculty, 
however, of managing, in rhyme, the minor 
details of a story, so as to be clear without 



PREFACE. 



Iv 



growing prosaic, and still more, the diffuse 
length to which I saw narration in yerse would 
extend, deterred me from following this plan 
tDT further ; and I then commenced the tale 
anew in its present shape. 

Of the Poems written for mj first experi- 
ment, a few specimens, the best I could select, 
were introduced into the prose story ; but the 
muunder I had thrown aside, and nearly for- 
gotten eren their existence, when a circum- 
!<tance somewhat characteristic, perhaps, of 
that trading spirit, which has now converted 
Parnassus itself into a market, again called my 
attention to them. The late Mr. Macrone, to 
whose general talents and enterprise in business 
all who knew him will bear ready testimony, 
had long been anxious that I should undertake 
for him some new Poem or Story, affording 
soch subjects for illustration as might call into 
play the fanciful pencil of Mr. Turner. Other 
ta>ks and ties, however, had rendered my com- 
pliance with this wish impracticable; and he 
was about to give up all thoughts of attaining 
his object, when on learning from me acciden- 
tally that the Epicurean was still my own pro- 
perty, he proposed to purchase of me the use 
of the copyright for a single illustrated edi- 
tion. 

The terms proffered by him being most 
liberal, I readily acceded to the proposed ar- 



rangement; but, on further consideration, 
there arose some difficulty in the way of our 
treaty — the work itself being found insufficient 
to form a volume of such dimensions as would 
yield any hope of defraying the cost of the 
numerous illustrations then intended for it. 
Some modification, therefore, of our terms was 
thought necessary; and then first was the 
notion suggested to mc of bringing forth from 
among my papers the original sketch, or open- 
ing of the story, and adding these fragments, 
as a sort of make- weight, in the mutual adjust- 
ment of our terms. 

That I had myself regarded the first experi- 
ment as a failure, was sufficiently shown by 
my relinqubhmcnt of it. But, as the published 
work had then passed through several editions, 
and had been translated into most of the lan- 
guages of Europe, it was thought that an in- 
sight into the anxious process by which such 
success had been attained, might, as an encou- 
ragement, at least, to the humble merit of 
painstaking, be deemed of some little use. 

The following are the translations of this 
Tale which have reached me : viz. two in 
French, two in Italian (Milan, 1836 — Venice, 
1835), one in German (Inspruc, 1828), and one 
in Dutch, by M. Herman van Loghem (De- 
venter, 1829). 



TUE 




POETICAL WORKS 

OF 




THOMAS 


MOORE. 




ODES OF ANACREON 




TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH VERSE. 




WITH . 


NOTES. 




1 

1 

1 

1 TO 


INDEX. 




HIS ROTAL HIGHNESS 


ODB 


BARND. 




1. ANAKPEAN A»p t*» . 


. 63. 


THE PRINCE OF WALES. 


2. Aorc fjun KvpriP 'Ofiifpov 


. 48. 


Crn 




. 49. 


MB, 

Lv allowing me to dedicate this Work 




. 17. 
. 18. 


to Yoor Royal Highness, yon have conferred upon 


6. 2T«^f vAcirwr vo6t tvpov , 


. 59. 


rae an honour which I feel very sensibly: and I 


7. \9y0wruf al yvraucts . . 


. 11. 


have only to regret, that the pages which yon have 


8. Ov fioi /mAci ra Fvyov 


. 15. 


thoj distinguished are not more deserving of such 


9. A^f fit rovs dtcvs <roi 


. 31. 


illustrious patronage. 


10. Ti (Toi dtKtis ironiam . 


. 12. 


j Believe me. Sir, 


11. Epona KTipufoy ris 


. 10. 


; Wth every sentiment of respect. 


12. 0; fuy jfoAijr Kv€ii€fiw 


. 13. 


i Your Royal Highness*s 


13. ecAw, dtXm ^Ai^roi . 


. 14. 


1 Very grateful and devoted Servant, 


1 4. El 0vAAa voKra 9§y9pvy 


. 32. 


Thomas Moore. 


15. Efxur/uni TcAcia 


. 9. 


1 




. 28. 




17. Fpa^ fwi BaBvWoy o^w . 


. 29. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


18. Aorc fioiy 80TC yvraiK9S 


. 21. 




19. Uapa ntw VKOfv^ Boih/AAc . 


. 22. 


It may be necessary to mention, that, in arranging 


20. Ai MoiMToi Tor Epcrra 


. 30. 




21. 'H Tn /icAoxya 'kimu . 


. 19. 


the Vatican Ma For those who wish to refer to 


22. 'H ToKToAow vor* €<mi 


. 20. 


the original, he has prefixed an Index, which 


23. ecAw Ar/ciy ArpciSoi 


. 1. 


marks the number of each Ode in Barnes and the 


24. ^iMTis Kfpcera ravpots . 


. 2. 


1 other editions. 


25.X»ttMP ^if xcXAnt . 


. 33. 



! 2 


MOORETS WORKS. 


com 


1 




26. 2v /Mr Atyitf Tc e^fiif 


. 16. 


AN ODE 


27. Ei f^iMf /UP hrw9i • 


. 53. 


BT THB TmAHSLATOB. 


28. Oarv^TUfKutfvyntt 


. 45. 




29. XcXfwr TO tai fiXifrai 


. 46. 


Em^mwrar^i. 


30. ESmcmv or^ rp^x^cir 


. . 44. 


T^iht wm^ 6 fuXM^ms 


ZL'TrnMa^amiu^dOm . 


. 7. 


I . - . 1 -■ r'^j 


32. Em /uptf^iratf Tc^Muf 


4. 


Btiibwr Tt nu Anytfiir' 


33. V , - - ..*,i 


. 3. 


Afi^ orror o« T ytwcf 


34. MmMapt(piuw V9fTrm^ 


. 43. 




35. E^ WT* f r ^oSm^i . 


. 40. 


'O fiOji rm Ti|» KMf9^p^t 


36. 'O vAflvroff ccyf xpvvm 


, . 23. 


M.wmn, ^fwxm «lrT«ir 




. 8. 




38. 'lA^^ Tio^iir omp . 


. . 41. 




39. ♦i^** 7*pffrra T«^»»^ 


. 47. 


£^4Aj»t OTj^ar ytfarrw 




. 24. 


H Sf .5w«r w<ra. 


41. Tr--.*-^^-*f ?r^^;A,r 


. 66. 


lO^IH ««^* c| OJ^itfMwev 




. 42. 


BtfVfilm^ Aprntprotra, 


43. Srff^oymrf /icr Kporo^ettf-i . 


. 6. 


EtfV^fftt r«vt *p^Tai^ 


44. Ta ^fJ^ r« ^nrtr ^vmr 


. 6. 


Thnpft^iaffOTtti crw 


45. 'Oriyr -viMr r^r iKiPvar . 


. 25. 


SiifVf >S* ^ Apsu^wrra 


46. l^r ^A" JdfHi^i '^fiwrrfif . 


. . 37. 




47. £>• -ytpw ^MT f i^^ 


. 38. 


KoAeoiwir Oi ^ofimu. 


48. 'Otht 4 fioir^t tifftXhi 


. 26. 


Ti, 7fp«r, Tf or /iior /lor 


49. Tov Aiot ^ vwt Ba«x«9 


. 27. 


To.* CptMTI, T<» AMuy, 


60. 'O/ ryw tw tot ouwr 


. 39. 


K* OMT c/ioi Kpmrtv ffSuKor; 


51. Jl^i** ^M>>,w^jj 


. 34. 


Ti t^NiA^pia Ti|T Ku'^i^pq'rj 


62. T< /w 7«vf n^aovf tSo^FK^is . 


. 36. 


Ti jrwiAAA fm JkMOtm, 


63. 'Of^ *y« M»r d/uMr 


. 54. 




64. 'O Tauy>#f D^rai , « vw 


. 35. 






. 51. 


Omc ^p»r Aax*"^ wn-ur ; 


66. 'O rw fv vorou orf (j»j 


. 60. 


*0 Sc TV** t^Kumat 


67. Ajpa Tif TOffbeti Torrov • i 


. 49. 


Miyrc Swr^'ffNUJr*. ^i^tri. 


68. 'O ipawwrnt ^ XF*^*' 


. 66. 


•Oti, Aco, <rov y «i>«v /ior, 


69. Tor F'>«i"tYP««-a 0^pvr . 


. 62- 




• • • 


. 64. 








. 56. 




62. At* Irf, ^p' J,fi.* , ** wu . 


. 57. 


A^cAAff if Ttfvpa TOi^v, 


63. Tor EpifTa -y*^ tw ^por . 


. 58. 


•ilf Awfif yap, tfu>w ifrop 


64. ttrv¥&vfim ^ *Kwpn^»^ 


. 60. 


Aravvfj ^»ffr#t cpwTOf * 


65. IliiAf OplJK^^f Tl A^T ^ 


. . 61. 


'fiif fiioTOu ya^Ti^Fffr 


66. #4«HC «i«<rira, Kur^i 


. 62. 


^iAtmv pak^rr^ wm'n^. 


67. O iroi TTOf&fHaif jd^Anrwr • 


. 67. 




68. Eyt0 r ovr* or A/ioXacnif . 

F(»r tbe order of the rstt. Me the > 


. 68. 

rote*. 


Tu oo^errcpot fwr eon ; 








CORRECTIONS OF THE TRECEDING ODE, 






•COOISTCD BT AN BMIMBNT GBUK BCaOI^B. 






T^i6s voT* ^rot^ Tifibs vor" 'i /MAirr^f 








tiofAt yt\^¥ lit tiTdf 






fte^^ Tc ircd Aup^CM^ 4 




im. »iz. a. ed. 






rafn. nxvi. i. 




#f«;c9 ^y^ AM mffvftjh nt legopdam plaD 


• es Atheura. 


CrM.. 



ODES OF ANACEEON. 



ZwmH, ^Xfi fl*rT*i/l 



'H 8f biaumv ainifftta 






J SI AmbA c«AAj^d\Xois 
IfiDln iriii^ini -yipawrvu 

Toirs 'E^Mrrof , 

mtkimmw of irvfMrrnl,— ■ 
Btftfrmr yft/taur tcov ^v 

[gk l^f ^MAf*8^ip 

in fff* dFv^f caAAvj^uii 'Oti, did* trovy' av€Vfj.fp 

fOMi, vW, Xvyrf^. 36 

•iM#V 74#, M K4n^ fuv, 'Of XMpij yapt tfiott yfrap 



€ Pi»«l...iajK^. Od. til. 13. rftfiittit ^*tri* XH*****- 
7. 10. i mit. hie _ I 3^ tO^. Bioo, M. t, 83, x* i^' £>fw, 
) w k' W; n^ iCdui', 11^ r X' Itidcm de Amoribut. 
A, Si *c*«« — U si<«m«u. Ptcud-Anocr. Od. xxvm, |g, H 

tn, n. mmii*fi».imi — ^iUtet, Pwud-Atiacr. Od. v. 3. n 

lA. TiM«l* p*o jM'ftiSM^ 1*««wl-Aiuicr. Od. ili. 1&. Ira 

tft Soffle wiy. quo «i£t* r£f«r«Uiir. Eurlp. FhcKi. 12. 



- M^rf dwrx*p9,iv*, «^ij<r* 




Od. xXtT. 9. fltirm rfiCm ihUit. 
am» fi^i MWt \ mifiH tiiiw, iii^ T^; A^ 

)& 9m ^^ aim y% f^ /Mw ]fM:ljir«n«. ne prtttrr raikmrm tn 

pMtrtiiiiw iprtiriilaniM ^ jmk cxbibi*t Pteud-Auarr Od. 
ssmi. II. 

» Tb* IliHorj ol Aiucr«cni, by Ga^o (le Pu^te «»nj fwrd, 
M be ttjtei hfauclT}, U t»rofea««lly a roisijyiee; aor doe* 



^tkitup fioAitrra ircb^wy, 



REMARKS ON ANACREON. 

ToERE is but little known with certJUDly of t1i« 
life of Aimcrcoa. Chamicleon llcracleotes ", who 
wrote upon the subject, has hvca lost in the 
^oeriil wreck of ancient literature. The cdilon 
of the poet have collected the few triHiDg anecdotes 
which ure scattered through the ejttjuit authors of 
aatitjuity, and, supplying the deficiency of mate-* 
rials by fictions of their own imagination^ have 
arranged, what they call, a life of Anacreon. 
These epecious fubricarions are intended to indulge 
that interest which we naturally feel in the bio- 
graphy of illustrious men; but it is rather a dan- 
gerous kind of illusion, as it coufouods the liiiiits 
of history and romance'*, and is too often sup- 
ported by unfaithful citation.^ 

Our poet was boni in the city of Tcoji'', in the 
delicious region, of Ionia, and the time of his birth 
appears to have been in the sixth century before 
Christ^ He flourished at that remarkable period, 
when, under the polished tyrants Hipparchus and 
Folycrates, Athena and Baid<18 were become the 
rival asylums of genius. There is nothing certain 
known about his family, and those who pretend to 
discover in Plato that he was a descendant of the 
monarch Codrus, show much more of zeal than 
of cither accuracy or judgment:" 

NtAdfinoltetle ScruderS^ frotti whom l!<* borrow rd tbe ideik, 
pretend to hlttorkiil verncltjr iiii h(^r account of AnacrfHiii «nd 
Sappbo. Tbcie, thr-n^ are allowable. But how c;iu Bnrnei 
be forg:lT«ll, who, with all tlte rixifiJeiice af a blographor, 
CntCM every watiderini^ cTthe poet, and irttleA htm at last. In 
hit old life, at a coiintrir vIBa near Ttog ? 

' Tb« learned Bajtv hjj detected fome Infidelltiei of qito. 
tatlon in l»e Fevre* {DfCtionHair^ Histortqur, <|fc.) Madaino 
Darter h Dot more accurate than her father: tbey have 
nimoat made AnacrcoD prime rohiUtw to the monaitih of 
Samoa. 

* TU« Asiatics werft ai remarkable for gcDfiu at for luxury. 
-'■ tiigenla A»3atkii tocljta per gcnte* iotbrft PoctJt, Anacreoa, 
ItuJc Mlmnermut et Anilmacbus," &c,^—Soltaui. 

^ I have xkOi atteinpted to deClnft the partkular Olytnplod, 
but bave adopted the Idea ai Dayttf, who Myt, '* Je n\il point 
marq^ued'Olympiado i car pour uu hofntni'qui a vC'cu HIV ani. 
II Ttie temble ijue Ton ne doit point i^eii Termer dant de« 
lljitmm il ^trottet ." 

<^ Tbif miitake (i founded on ■ folie intiirpretntlon of a 
very obvious pa«iagc In Flatn"* Dialogue on TetnFMiirjifice; It 
originated with Madame Dader, and bat been rcii^tttved 1m- 
plkllly by many^ Gail, a late editor i>( Anstcreon, trt^iDi to 
clekbn to hlmtelf the merit of detecting tbb error ; t^it liayla 
had obKenrcd It before him. 



A 



MOOEE*S WORKa 



The dtspoftidon aod lalenti of Anacrcon recooi- 
mended liim to the raonarch of Samoc, &d4 he was 
fcMin«d to be tliif friend of iticb a prince at Polj> 
cralM. Susceptible only to the pleasures, he felt 
not Ihe comtpiiocis of the ooort ; andf while Pytha* 
goras fled from the tyrant^ Anacreon was cele- 
hraling hk piraiaes on the Ijrv. We are told t<M> 
by Uaxinias Tjrtus, thai, by the iafluetice of his 
amatory congii, he softened the mind of Polycrates 
into a spirit of beneTolence towards his subjects. * 

The amours of the poet, and the iiTalship of 
the t^^rant ^, I shall pass over in silence ; and there 
are few, I presume, who will regret the omiwOB 
of most of those anecdotes, which the industiy of 
•oae editors has not only promujged, but dis- 
eosMd. WhatCTer is repugnant to modesty and 
Tirtue is considered in ethical science, by a suppo- 
sition very fhvourable to humanity, as impossible; 
and this amlnble persoasion should be much more 
strongly entertained, where the transgression warm 
with nature as well as virtue. But why are we 
not allowed to indulge? in the presumptton ? Why 
are we officiously reminded that there have been 
really such instances of dt^pravity ? 

tlLppurchuif, who now maintained at Athens the 
power which hii fathi'f Pi!»I«tratus had nsorped, 
was one of those princes who vaay be said to hsve 
poliihod the fetters of their subjects. He was the 
first, according to Plato, who edited the poems of 
Homer, and commanded them ,to be sung by the 
rhapaodists at the celebnaion of the Panatheoa^a. 
From his court, which was a sort of galaxy of 
genius, Anacreon could not long he absenL Hip- 
parchns sent a barge for him ; the poet readily 
embraced the invitation, and the Muses and the 
l^ves were wafted with htm to Athens.* 

The manner of Anacreon*s death was singular. 



MasJmii* TfHu* tMnHlon* Uil* amoos other tnfUficr« of tbe 
lalhliiiirrt of pdctiy. If Gsll lisd r«sd Mamlnius Tjrrlitf , liow 
faiiM h« Hdlcul* tbb Idea in Mo«itoiUift, ac imautbctitl. 

^^_^ «at«dF 

^^^H * In lb* roiiMDce <oi Clel\n, tli# aAc^ote to «likh t allait« 

^^^^P It loM of m f DMDf firl, with whom Aaacrmm fell In low • h Ur 

^^^^ sIm ptnauUd the fod Apollo In a nuk 

H^ HMiMll* Acodint cooiutt«4 neturv nor* Ck 

■ * Than It m *trj Inlerertlns rroneh pi 
H iHIt «iic«d«««. Imputed lo DecjTetaos, and eallad " Anacf i^Hi 
^H vNojpeil. 

H * rAhrtrliM afpMTi not |9 Iruit t^rj impUkMj in thU 

H ttmj. '■ Vvm psiMs seine lantea aofibealnA. tl eredifniu 

H ftuiwhs 111 MvMTirnif } alH enim hoe BMivtU svaere perllie iir». 

■ dual iaphucleta.*' — Fabrir/f tl/hl^ttk^ , (inec. lib U . cap. I »« 
^1 Ik maut be conftmed that Ltjrlan, » ha t«<IU ii« rtut Knplioeiea 

■ wia fh 4^1 \3j s ffrap**«lMMr, Im Uie tfj Mi»a ifeatlie mm* 

■ tkint tltp tmi«#«1i}r of AnN*r«dQ, sod f^ It tiknt m the 

■ nuni^^-r «*r hU imth, C*mM ha hnro boas IfnoranC of uncli a 

■ fvmtrasMe MneMence, or, ynHitni* souM Ike hate ney^ 

■ Iteiai le fwmuxk tut Sea llatiiliar% Intradocikwi m bit 



We are lold that In the eighty-fifth year of hi* iga 
he was ehoked by a grape-stone*; and, however 
we may smile at their enthusiastic partiality, who 
see in this easy and characteristic death a peculiar 
indulgence of Heaven, we cannot help admiring 
that his fate should have been so emblematic of 
his disposition. Cvlios Calcagninui alludes to 
this catastrophe in the following epitaph on our 
poet*:— 

Thoae lipa, then, hallow 'd tafe, wbklt poured alonf 
A raiule •««•« ai anj <7fnet*i toof:, 

The frspe h*ih dot'd for ever I 
Here kt Che trj Mit Ihe poet's tomlk. 
Here lei tlie raaa he lor*d with UatcU bloom, 

la baadt tlkat se'er shall tevrr. 

But far be thou, oh I fiir. unholjr tine, 

Bjr wham ibe fkfourite mjottrel of ttie Nine 

Loal bla twnst fllal breath ; 
Tbjr God btotoir now bhnboa lo confeat. 
Once balle«*d viael lie fMs hm !»*«« thee lent, 



It has been suppoaed by some writers that Ana- 
creon and Sappho were oontemporanca ; and the 
very thought of an intervoune between penoiks lO 
congenial, both in warmth of paanon and delicacy 
of geniosy gives such play to the imagination, that 
the mind loves to indulge in it. But the visioii 
dissolves before historical truth ; and Chameleon 
and Hemiesianax, who are the source of the sup- 
position, are considered as having merely indulged 
in a poetical anachronism,* 

To infer the moral dispositions of a poet from 
tlie tone of sentiment which pervades bia vorka, 
is sometimes a very fkllacious analogy s but the 
aonl of Anacreon speaks so nnequtvoeaUj throogh 
Ms odes» that we may safely consult them as the 
faithful mirrors of bis heart' We find him there 
the elegant voluptuary, diffiuing the seductive 
charm of sentiment over passions and propensities 



* At (a, tttocte tmcv, aclniu luh Tartan mltll; 

Gyfmae clau»U qui tM vodi Uer« 
Voa, hederv, unnulum, tumuhtm voielnflle, laurl. 

Hoc rots |ierpciiio tcmrt odora loco ; 
At vKIt pr«etii btne, proeat hlae « 

Quftc 
CrMitur Ipae i 

to vatein tantttm <|uw fUlt i 

The autbor of thli rpttJKph^ Carlhn CJiagidHwa, Ins 
translated or lMiitM«d the eptftaau m rm Miff i 4 d^w*, 
whlrh are giron iniiler the t»n>e of Atiarr««Nk. 

* Bamet li eont loeed (iMif ^mj fralnllou*!''^^ ^-' '^' ryn. 
rhrool»m of Aoaereoo and Sappho, In etUiu r«, 
he baa »Iraofe1f ncalerted the Ihie quofed t,^ r.i. 
nut. at ffom Anaereoa, aiDoag Ihe lartlimwiiui to K^p^ho :* 

EiftM 3UC#» %i*mtmi Taapii eia((bMi Ah0mm. 

Fabrlditt think a that they mtg^ht haire 

iHit eotuktert their amour a« a tale of ImafltiallaB. V< 

rpjectt the Idea onUrelj' i at do aJao OLaut ll«)rrU4il«iS 

othrfi.^ 

* An ItntlsB poe^ bi loeae tenet on Brllesii'i 




ODES OF ANACREON. 



I 

HFcran 



it ^vkiek T^gid mormlity mint frovn. ID* heart, 
4eYoccd lo iaidoleQce, acexns to lure tboo^t that 
tf vcaltb eoooglj in happiness, but sdidoia 
in mere ve&lih. The cheerfiiliieiis 
vith which h« brightens hk old Ag« is 
and endesring : like his own rose, he 
hmgrwait even in decay. But the moit pc-cnliar 
imrr of bii oniiid U that lore of aimpUcity, which 
to himself so feeUngJj, and which 
dnncfeeriaiicaUj throughout all that he 
In tmth, if we omit thoae few vices in 
which Teligion, at that time, not only 
oi, bat consecnted, we shall be inclined 
|» mj tliii the disposition of our poet was ami- 
ilile ; tl&at hif roormlity waa relaxed* but not aban« 
ii and that Virtue, with her aoae loosened, 
be ■& apt emblem of the character of Ana^ 



H 



Of loa penon and pbjviognomj time has pre* 
leefiain memorials, that it were 
to Icsve the pencil to fancy ; and 
eao read the Odes of Anaereon without 



tlut our bsrd did not r«rl 




Mdtp*l» 
ctlocUi 
Ifaibaapne 

Ta Lm* and BsecHiw evet fnuof 

Wbll* Mat Anarretjfi f i«ich'd thr If rv. 
He asikliiw lele tttv Iotu He »un«. 

Ner in*d Itis bawl to Bivwbui b^iutt* 
Thpm§om*Tj d4f* lud l^ded Uing, 
Wltfii foolli couM aitt tUf iotrr't p«rt ; 
B tnoiblcd ia hli i<onijr. 

rr, mrh'd liU henrt. 



> AjM0«a<i'i duraelsr bat twiO t vtou«1 j coloured 8«rti«s 
liaiBr* an It ulUi cntluttfsitie admlratloo ; bat he ti idwajri 
■ iim^pinl. if aot Mnictiiiiet alua a ItUla prolkoe. BaiUet 
fan* too oHidl Into Ibt oppo«it« emtr«fD«^ eiuifgcrstliig: «Uo 
tt« lnrtfaBooJ«t »Udi be ba« coniult<>d; and w« cannnt 
■nlf aftwft witli Urn «bet) b« citet «uc-h a eofnpltor as 
«• " on dfli ^iu MTant cxitlquct de l*s&llfulti/* 
M.CV. 
CDold hartflj bar* read tli« pattage t« which h^ tt- 
fcra, whMi baaaeuaet Le Frrre oC baf iQf cracured our pwt'i 
rtlanrffit la a ma* on Looclnut i tbr noie In qnc«fit>n b«inR 
■MttMail I fs a / , ta aOiif lost to foiD« ct^nAiire puted upon L.« 
fmttrt tor hi* Aaacrtoa. It I* dear, iiid««d, tbAt pnuf* rather 
tbaa ceBM»« Is lMthnat<*t Sc« JobBimea Vnlpiui (de VtilU 
tato fVrimaai)> who vlndlcatet our poH'» Tt\nit3ttion. 

■ to li ttftaa from tbe Blblfothera of Futflui Unlnafl. 
Mlafl haaeopJcd IHa saiiw bead Into hit IniaxlD«>- Johuinei 
Pater, bi h4a d«acriptJofi of iha coin of Unlnui, m«fitiOD« 
Mad on 1 terry beAUtifut corn<rh»n, which be tup- 
wora la a rtng by tome admirer of th« poet. In 
of Caalinl there It ■ joiithrul brad of Ana- 
adal. with the Ic4lrr« TEI03 around 
ft i fltt Ikt »«««fi* tliara Is ■ Keptune^ holding a tpear In his 



ioijigtning to themselv^ the fbrm oCthe animated 
old bard, crowned with roees, and singing cheer* 
ftillj to his lyre. But the head of Anscpean. 
prefixed to this work^, has been eoosideied so 
authentic, that we aeareelj coald be juscified Id 
the omission of it ; and aooe have e^en tbooght 
that it is by no means deficient in that beneroleBt 
suavity of expression which shonld charMicriae 
the coontenance of such a poet 

Alter the rery eathnsuistic enlogittma beslivwed 
both by ancienu and modenis upon the poems of 
AnacreoQ^t we need not be diffident is ezpreasiBg 
our raptures at their beaoty, nor hesitaie Co pro- 
DooDce them the most polished mnains of anti^ 
qujty.^ They are, indeed, ail beanty, all enchant* 
ment' He steals as ^ infensibly along with him, 
that we sympathise eren in his ezce«eB. In his 
amatory odes there is a delicacy tit compliment 
not to be found in any other ancient poet. Lore 
at that period was rather an unrvfinifd emotion ; 
and the intercourse of the sexes was animated 
more by passion than by scnlimenL They knew 



right hand, and a dolphin, with Ibe word Tl AXHK i 

In th<r ted ; " totoadod denatare (mf CabIiU ) che <|oella dU 

tadtet la cnnlaaaro ta Ihnmmo dd a 

Then la also anioag tht eoliu of Da 

Iboof h It Iwan no efllf7« was probsMy atraek lo tbo memorf 

of Anacrran. U bat tha word THItlN, entircM with an lij 

crawn. " At <iu[idnt retpkll hwc corona Anocreonteni, nobl- 

Icm Ifrtcuni f*'^Df WiUt. 

» B««ide« thoM which arc extant, be wrote bjnana, eleglra, 
eplfraoni, ac. Some of the cptfrmmt ttill exUL Horace, in 
i4dltkin to the mention of blm ilfb. ir. od. $.), alltidea alto 
to a poera of hit upon the rivalry of CIree and Penelope in 
(be aiR<cUti(ia of Ulriirt, lib I. od. 17. : and the aeboliatt 
upmi Meander cUct t frac^nrnC from a poem upon Sleep bj 
Anacreon, and attrfbutci lo hkm likewise m medicinal trca- 
ttte. Fidfantliu mentlont a work of hit upon the wmr ba* 
tweea JapHar ukd the Titant, and the ortfla ottbc coot«cra> 
tion of Iba aa|la. 

1 See Horacft, Maximui Tyrliu, Ac. <* Hit ttylc (t^t 
!krall|Ff^) It tweeter than the juire of the tndiui reed."— PtiH, 
lib. L cap. M, " Frofn the loriDett of hit renet (lavt Olaui 
Btirrichluft) the an«leijt* tmtoiired on him the ppitheti iweet, 
dpUcate.gmccful^ kc^—DisirrtatiimfMAcadnmctrA'^ Portit, 
ditt,2. ScjJiger airaJn prditet hinr thut Ui a (lun ; fl[>oakii]i]| 
of the ftO^H* or ode, •* An^creon ftutem non tolum dedit h«?c 
fMln ted etiam to lp»lt melUi/' See the pattaite of Btpin, 
quoted by all the edilort. I ciniKit oniit citing aba the fol- 
lowtng Tt-ry iptrited a|»Q«tropbe of the author of the Com- 
mentary preBud to the Farma adttion : '' O to* tubllmei 
animie, rot ApoUlnli alan»l, qid pott iinum Alrmanrm (n 
loUl HelUde lyricam poesln asitiicltastit, cpluittii^ ainpl.fi'> 
catlit, qiuMO voa an ullut unqosfli ftMril vAtet qui Telo 
cantori vel natuna candore irtl metrt soavltiile ii.«lmain pr»> 
rtpuerit'* See likewlte Vlnecoao Gravini ctella R»g. Poitic 
libroprinio, p. 97. Among tbe fUtratti of Marino^ (here It 
one of Anacreon beginnfnf "CInpAemI la fronte." Ac. Ac. 

> •* We tn«y perceive," *ay« Votvjui, '* thAt the iteratjnnof 
bit wordt cunclucet very miirh to the iwiN^nest ofbU ttyltt." 
Henry Stephen renuirkt the lame beauty in a note on the 
forty-fouTtb ode. Thlt figure of Iteration it hli moat appro- 
priate grace : — but the modem wrlteri of iurenilia and Baala 
hare adopted it to an excett whkb dcttro]rt the eJInet, 



■ 




6 



MOORE'S WORKS. 



not those little tendernesies which form the spiri- 
tual part of affection ; their expression of feeling 
was therefore rode and unraried, and the poetry 
of lore deprived it of its most captirating graces. 
Aoacreon, however, attained some ideas of this 
purer gallantry ; and the same delicacy of mind 
which led him to this refinement, prerented him 
also from yielding to the freedom of language, 
which has sullied the pages of all the other poets. 
His descriptions are warm ; hut the warmth is in 
the ideas, not the words. He is sportive without 
being wanton, and ardent without being licentious. 
His poetic invention is always most brilliantly 
displayed in those allegorical fictions which so 
many have endeavoured to imitate, though all 
have confessed them to be inimitable. Simplicity 
is the distinguishing feature of these odes, and 
they interest by their innocence, as much as they 
fiiscinate by their beauty. They may be said, 
indeed, to be the very infants of the Muses, and to 
lisp in numbers. 

I shall not be accused of enthusiastic partiality 
by those who have read and felt the original ; 
but, to others, I am conscious, this should not be 
the language of a transUtor, whose faint reflection 
of such beauties can but ill justify his admiration 
of them. 

In the age of Anacreon music and poetry were 
inseparable. These kindred talents were for a 
long time associated, and the poet always sung his 
own compositions to the Ijrre. It is probable that 
they were not set to any regular air, but rather a 
kind of musical recitation, which was varied ac- 
cording to the fancy and feelings of the moment ■ 
The poems of Anacreon were sung at banquets as 
late as the time of Aulus Gellius, who tells us that 
he heard one of the odes performed at a birth -day 
entertainment.* 

THe singular beauty of our poet's style, and the 
apparent facility, perhaps, of his metre have at- 
tracted, as I have already remarked, a crowd of 



* In the Parli edition there are four of the original odes 
Mt to inutlc. hy Le Sueur, C;o«tec, Mehul. and CherubinL 
" On rhante du Latin, et de I'ltalien," says Gail. " quelquefoi* 
ni^me san* lei entendre ; qui emptehe que noui ne chantions 
del odet Orecquet ? *' The chromatic learning of these com- 
poiert !• very unlike what we are told of the simple melody 
of the ancients ; and they hare all, as it appears to roe, mls- 
takm the accentuation of the words. 

* The Tarma commentator is rather careless in referring 
lo this passage of Aulus Gellius (lib. xix. cap. 9.)* The ode 
was not sitng by the rhetorician Julianus, as he says, but by 
the minstrrls of both sexes, who were Introduced at the 
entertainment. 

* Kr« what Colomesius, in his " Literary Treasures." has 
qac<«l from Alcyonlus de Bxtllo ; It maybe found in Baxter. 
CdomMltts, after cttlng the pasaage. addt, ** Hcc anro contra 
cam Doo poittl non apponere." 



imitators. Some of theie have socceeded with 
woDderfnl felicity, as may be discerned in the few 
odes which are attributed to writers of a later 
period. But none of his emulators have been half 
so dangerous to his fame as those Greek eccle- 
siastics of the eariy ages, who, being conscious of | 
their own inferiority to their great prototypes, 
determined on removing ail possibility of com- 
parison, and, under a semblance of moral zeal, 
deprived the worid of some of the most exquisite 
treasures of ancient times.' I1ie works of Sappho 
and Alcsus were among those flowers of Grecian 
literature which thus fell beneath the rude hand of 
ecclesiastical presumption. It is true they pre- 
tended that this sacrifice of genius was hallowed 
by the interests of religion ; but I have already 
assigned the most probable motive^; and if Gre- 
gorius Nazianzenus had not written Anacreontics, 
we might now perhaps have the works of the 
Teian unmutilated, aad be empowered to say 
exultingly with Horace, 

Nee si quid oliro lusit Anacreon 

DeleTit sptas. 

The zeal by which these bishops professed to be 
actuated, gave birth more innocently, indeed, to 
an absurd species of parody, as repugnant to piety 
as it is to taste, where the poet of voluptuousness 
was made a preacher of the gospel, and his muse, 
like the Venus in armour at Lacedsmon, was 
arrayed in all the severities of priestly instruction. 
Such was the ** Anacreon Recantatus,*" by Carol us 
de Aquino, a Jesuit, published 1701, which con- 
sisted of a series of palinodes to the several songs 
of our poet Such, too, was the Christian Ana- 
creon of Patriganus, another Jesuit*, who prepos- 
terously transferred to a most sacred subject all 
that the Grecian poet had dedicated to festivity 
and love. 

His metre has frequently been adopted by the 
modem Latin poets ; and Scaliger, Taubuian, 
Barthius\ and others, have shown that it is by no 



< We may perceive by the beginning of the first hymn of 
Dishnp Syncsius, that he made Anacreon and Sappho hb 
models of composition. 

Ayi fiM, XiyttM ^t^tuyi, 
Mir« T*M«' ««<d«», 
Mtrm Ai#Ci«r n /*»Xrm.9. 

Blargunius and Damascenus were likewise authors of pioot 
Anacreontics. 

^ This, perhaps, is the " Jpsuita quiUam Grcculns " alluded 
to by Barnes, who has himself composed an Amw^uw Xf$- 
rrf9H, as absurd as the rest, but somewhat more skilfully 
executed. 

* 1 have seen somewhere an account of the MSS. of Bar. 
thius, written Just after his death, which mentiooa nanj 
more Anacre<Kitic« of his than 1 bdlere have cvar bean pab> 
lUhed. 



ODES OF ANACREON. 





wtth thai Iaiigiiitge.1 The 
of Saliger» hovever« Kareelx de- 
MBic ; IS thcj fitter all over with 
sd, tiUMigh oUben ekgaat* are alwmj* 
Tlie ttramriftil ficdont of Angenanofi ' 
ha|ipiljr thaa aay othetB the delicate 
of fWf aUc|§orieal IhHes, whlch^ pacing io 
thpaa^ the mediums of Tcnion and 
teve gcneratlj lost their finest rays in 
Ifaaj of the Italian poets have 
tbeir ftDciea iq>on the snlgecla^ and in 
of AnacreozL B^iurdo Twsto first in^ 
t^ metre, which waa afterwards polished 
hj Chahriera and others.' 
To JMlge hy the referenoes of D^cn, the Ger- 
aboonda In Anacreen^c imitationa; 
* ia one amoog man j who haye as- 
iB as a BodeL La. Fane, ChanlieOr and 
Ug^ IKWta df Franoe, haTe abn profened 
the mnae of Teot ; hot they have at- 
Jl her negligence with little of the simple 
nft cnMliahes it In the delicate bard of 
* ve iod the kindred spirit of Anacreon : 
of his gaseUca, or tonga, pofiaeaa all the cha- 
«f our poet. 

* now to a retroapcct of the editions of 

To Henrj Stephen we are indebted 

fint recoYered his remains from the 

in which, so singnlarly, they had for 

reposed. He foimd the sereoth ode^ 

r wm wx^ tohl, on the coTer of an old book, and 

it to Vlctoriua, who mentions the 

^ in his ** Varioaa Readinga*** Stephen 

▼err yonng ; and this dSscovery was 

i bj some critics of that day as a literary 

L* In 1554, howevefp be gave Anacreon 

I TkMla»Albcnui*»I>anUli|MMti-. 
FldJi Uil mtnUler 






l*ltart ISiiir« nulio; 
Gsndebo Ktnpe^r Ilium 
Lsudaf« pumilUlU 
AucrroatlciLlii. 
See tike Damitk Poet* coU«rir(t bj Rottgnard. 

Umit ppaUf titatgiwirt dri^ tnnilotion. A beantirul Ana> 
9 tof Ri^o Crotluft. duj b« fotiAd Lib. t. Farragidf . 

• Tft iiijailiiMii Prior !■ Indebted for tome of hU lm|if«e«t 
u 

HfilorU dclU \\}\g, Poea. 
f «* L*ai^^M9 H4i«dom not quclqur^fob Anacrfon/* — 
BmM, mw^t^ftHtk AUemamde. 

» Sat ToisHal on Hi* IcaraJQg of t)i« Turki, as trmtUted 
tf it Camnmt4^ PHM9e CanHnntr bu made the Ruufjuit 
vKh AnKTVOB. See bit Ufo, prefixed ta jt tnnt. 
^r bH a«li«i; bf elto Ablt« da Couco. 

* 1lo*ort«Utti* Id bl« work ** De Itiiicrne ca«Tigi!ixli/' pro- 
> bo Ibe trtdtnfi ot »ome iQ»ipkl 



to the worlds aooompanied wit^ id 

a Iditin Teraion of the greater i «^ 

The learned stitl besitBted to rec^ivif xhKoi a» the 
relies of the TeisD hard, and sospected them to be 
the fabrication of some monks of the liateanh 
century. This was an idco from which the clamie 
mnae reooiledi and the Vatican mannaeript, eon- 
salted by Scaliger and flblmaaSw, ooofirmed the 
antiquity of most of the poenMk A very hmecii- 
rate copy of thia MSn waa taken by Isaoo Veaoua, 
aikd this Is the authority which Bamea haa fid- 
lowed in his collation. Aooordingly be mive- 
preaenlB almost as often as he qootes ; and the 
subsequent edttora, relying upon Kus aathority, 
hnre spoken of the manuscript with not less eon- 
fidence than ignorance. The literary world, how- 
erer» has at length been gratified with this cniioos 
memorial of the poet, by the industry of the Abbe 
Spaletti, who published at Rome^ in 17^1, a fee- 
simile of those pages of the Vatican manuscript 
which contaiDed the odes of Anacreon.^ 

A catalogue has been given by Gail of all the 
different editions and tranalatioos of Anacreon. 
Finding their number to be much greater than 1 
could possibly hare had on opportuuity of consult- 
ing, I shall here content myself with enumerating 
only those editions and venioDS wbich it has been 
in my power to collect ; and which, though very 
few, are, I believe, the most important 

The edition by Henry Stephen, 1554, at Paria 
— the Latin Tcrsion is attributed bj Colomesius 
to John Dorat.9 

The old French tranlaiions. by Ronsard and 
Ik-lleaii — the former published in 15S5, the latter 
in 1 55G. It appears from a note of Muretus upon 
one of the sonnets of Roosard, that Heury Stephen 

* Bmusrd comraemoratei tliJf ereot : ■>» 

Jtf viy boire i Uenrle Etlenoe 

Qut del enfen Dotu a rendu, 

Du rlei] Anocrkm perdu. 

La doace Ijre Teienoe, Ode xt» book 3, 

1 All ibe bowl to Stepbea'a name, 
Wbo rmeued from tbe ffloort of nigbt 

Tbe Tetan bvd of TeitiTc Came, 
And broosbt bit INIok If re to UgbL 

*< TbU nuiQuicrlpC wblcb SpoJettf %\AukA ai old «« the 
tenth crnturj, wai broDght rrani th« Palatine Into the Vati* 
call Ubnuy ; It It a kind of antbologi' of Gr«vk e-plrrami, juuI 
In tbe 676 Ji pa^e of it are found tbe 'Vimfuftii* Imfd^M^mMm 
or AfMUfeon. 

* " Le miiDe (M. Vo*«lu«) m'a dit qti'il avoll pOicM^ an 
AnKTtxm, oH ScjJIfer avoit marqu^ de m main. qu'Henrl 
Rticnne n'etoit pas I'auteur de la irertlon Latine det ode* ds 
ce itoete^maU Jean Dorat." — Pan/la Catamttiui, Particm-' 
tar tie* , 

Colompiiua, hoveirer, »eef»t to hsfe relied too iinpllcitlij 
on VoMiuii— almoat «U these Paiticularilcrf begin ^tb 
** M. VomIqc in*a dIt.'* 



8 



MOORKS WORKS. 



communicated to thi& poet hii mantiflcrlpt of Ana- 
creon, before be promulguted it to ihe world* > 

The edition by Le FeTrc, 1660. 

The edition by ^Lidjune Ducier, 1681, with a 
prose translation.^ 

The edition by Longepiene, 1684, with a tmiu- 
lalloQ in verse. 

The edition by Baxter ; Landon, 1695. 

A French translation by la Fouef 1704. 

*' L'Histoire dcs Odes d'Anacreon," by Ga^on ; 
Rotterdam, 1712. 

A translutJOQ in English rerse^ by several handSt 
1713^ in which the odes by Cowley are inserted. 

The edition by Barnes; London, 172)» 

The edition by Dr. Trapp, 1733, with a Latin 
yersion in elegiac metre. 

A translation in English verse, by John Addison, 
1735. 

A collection of Italian tmn&lalions of Anacreon, 
published at Venice, 1736, consisting of those by 
CoTsinJi Regnier ^, Salvini, MarchcUi^ and one by 
•ereral anonymous autboi-s.^ 

A traoslalion in English Terse, by Fawkes and 
Doctor Broome, 1760.* 

Another, anonymous, 1768. 

The edition by Spaletti, at Rome, ITS I ; with 
the fac-similc of the Vatican MS. 

The edition by Degen, 17^6, who published 
also a German translation of Anacreon, esteemed 
the best 

A traoshitioti in English verse, by Urquhart, 
1787 



* '* tiS fictkm de e« MmQft, oomine Tsuteur mdme m*n AlU 
Cft pfifee d'lme ode d'Anacr^n, «DCor« Ron ijnprline«i qu'U 
Adffpuli Cradutt, 2m ^* ftX^ x*^-^^^'" 

* llicauUior of NotiTelle» de U Ub^uh. dec Lett. iMttom 
oo IhU tnuiliUioa much more praUo than iti meritJ appear 
to Bttt to iuctirjr- 

' The note4 of nefnltr are oot inicflcNl Id thii atlUlon ; 
but tbpjr muat bo inUermMng, ai tbey were for tbe tnoit p«rt 
roffnmiinlcfttcid bj tb« ltifl«nio4Ut W^iufe, who, wo may per- 
c«lre. front ■ pMiajta In ibtt M«nagfaiiA, bwtoired tomt r»- 
•Mirrh Of) tb« tuUO«cL *' C*e«t auMl tui (M. Jiifot) qui «*ei«| 
ikMUtd tfl p«iM de (^on^^rcr dei nuDuicrlt* eo lulic ilao* ■«• 
Uma i|uo J« iravallloU tur ,%iiacreofi."'— Jtffiu^tdiM, ■etoDdo 
fiartia. 

4 I fluft tn Hajm'f NoUalad«* Libd nrl, V«nlc«, mo* aa 
lulkn tni»%l«tloa bf Capp<HM, aMaCloDed. 

* TbiA !• UM mtA eesiplsto ofthm Bag fUh tra&iUtltmi. 



* Thl* mlv U ibe llr«t of lb« *eiim la tbt Vatican maaa- 
•cripc, which attHbutAt U io no oUnir pa«t iban Aaaercoct 
Thif who aai«fft chat tha matinMrliit Itaimlitt It to HaaUlui, 
lave biMi atliliid taf tbe vofda T** m*rm itftanA^JAw In lb* 
OMfCbi, wblcii are marely Intended a« a tllla U> tb« follow Ina 
od«. Wbirthvr It b« (bo pmducilim of AaaeTvoii or iio4. It 
b«« «J1 lb# r««t(jroi of ancUn* •(m|^lkrltjr» aod la a beautiful 
laltatliJii «l tbe poat*i Wa|iplMt anaoiier, 

r Mj^a rkM la Mr *w #/». 
Tirana lAtf mM qf aqff ^M/rr.] " llow could h« boow 



The edition by Gail, at Parift 1799, with 
prose translation. 



ODES OF ANACREON. 



ODE L 



I 9AW the smiling bard of pleasure^ 
The minstrel of the Teian measure ; 
*T was in a vi&iou of tlie night. 
He beamed upon my wondering sighL 
I heard his voice, and warmly preat 
Thu dear enthusiast to my breast 
His trt?&ses wore a silvery dye, 
But l>eauty sparkled in his eyej 
Sparkled in bis eyes of fire, 
Through the mist of soft desire. 7 
Hii lip exhaled, whene'er he stgh^'d. 
The fh&grance of the rucy tide; 
And, as with weak and reeling feet 
He came my cordial kiss to meet. 
An infant, of the Cyprian band, 
Guided him on with tender hand* 
Quick from his glowing bruwb he drew 
His braid, of many a wanton hue ; 
I look the wreath, whose inmost twine 
Breatb'd of him and blusb'd with wine. * 



at tbe ftnt look (laji llAittor) tb«t lb*" poH »a* ptXimnt" 
There are •urelf raanf te]]-ta)« at lbf» prupennHj^; aod tbe 
kAU^wiof are tbe Indicet, wbkb tbe phjrafafftiomlat fivoa, 
deierlbinf a dlfpoilUoo perbapi act unlike ihat of Amoewi i 

O fi aA^ i l «Jlv{i/44»M, m»fMtt99rU 

Uf^mikim* ««-r^pTW mm it miittm, iwn 

fmttkwit, tvtt mu^ivf^. — AdatnantruM, " Tbe eye* that are 

humkl and durtuatltig tbow a pmpcnaltj to pleaeure aad 

low { iHrjr bea|M>a]i; too a alod of Integrity and bfoeleaaGirt 

a fcnermJej of dL»poeltkNi, sad a Kcnlut for poeCry." 

Bapciaia Porta l«na as iOaie itraafv OftiidoDa oT tbe an- 
cient fliytlofBORtiata on this eablpctp fbeir raaioaa ftir whkb 
were earloua, amd perbapt not altofatber fkneinil. VMe 
Pbjrtlofno«n. Jobon. BAptUt. Porte. 

* ik»Jk tA^ wTtath, u'hotf tnmoii itwMe 

Brftith'tt ttf htm* 4<^0 Pbllottratut baa tbe Mine tboufbt 
In one of hi* t^mrtMm.^ where be *\ic»kt of tbe gairland wbkb 
be had «ent to hU miitre**. E< U fimku n piAm x,»fi»*^* 
TB Ktv^mtm e«Tfei#*4«»t #H>«irv 9nmn ^m f^mm aAX* aAi 
r*v. "If tboo art loelltted to fratUy thj lover, aeMi bin 
baek ibe r«m»lt» of tbe garland, no toufwbreatbloff of i^tet 
tMiljr, but of thee I " Whkb |irvtt| cooceit U borruWMl (aa 
tbe author of the ObaerTvr remarlu} la a weU-knoeo UtU* 
•ong of Ben JoDBon'i t — 

" But thoM th«rMii dUUt only brMttie 
And aunt It back to me } 
Ulnoe wben It looki and imallt, I 
NotQrttwir,buitbeer 



I 




ODES OF ANACREON. 



I hung it o'er my thongfatless brow 
And ah ! I feel its magic now : • 
I feel that eTen his garland's touch 
Can make the boeom love too much. 



ODE II. 



Give me the harp of epic song. 
Which Uomer*8 finger thriU'd along ; 
But tear away the sanguine string, 
For war is not the theme I sing. 
Proclaim the hiws of festal rite,« 
I*m monarch of the board to>night ; 
And all around shall brim as high. 
And quaff the tide as deep as I. 
And when the cluster*s mellowing dews 
Their warm enchanting balm infuse, 
Our feet shall catch th* elastic bound. 
And reel us through the dance's round. 
Great Bacchus ! we shall sing to thee, 
In wild but sweet ebriety; 
Flashing around such sparks of thought, 
As Bacchus could alone have taught. 

Then, give the harp of epic song, 
TMiich IIomer*s finger thriU'd along ; 
But tear away the sanguine string, 
For war is not the theme I smg. 



ODE III.3 
Listen to the Muse's lyre, 
Master of the pencil's fire ! 
Sketched in painting's bold display, 
Many a city first portray ; 



1 Jmdak! l/tel itstitagienoir:] This idea, a* Longepierre 
mnarks. occuri in an epigram of the cevcnth book or the 
Antbologia. 

E|*Tt fttt wnmn 0Vf%rTet*v^» X»^iKka0 

While I nncooKioos quaff'd my wine, 

Twas then thj Ihigen ilily stole 
Upm mj brow that wreath of thine. 

Which fince has madden'd all my soul. 

* FrodafmtiiflatPsqffnial rite.} The ancients prescribed 
certam laws of drinking at their festiTals, for an account of 
which see the coraroeDtators. Anacreon here acts the sym- 
poAiaixh, or master of the festiTal. I have translated accord- 
ing to those who consider tnmiXXm J^irfuvr as an inversion of 
!Hfftsyf utrwtXXm. 

* I^ Foase haa thoaght proper to lengthen this poem by 



Many a city, revelling free. 
Full of loose festivity. 
Picture then a. rosy train, 
Bacchants straying o'er the plain ; 
Piping, as they roam along. 
Roundelay or shepherd-song. 
Paint me next, if painting may 
Such a theme as this portray. 
All the earthly heaven of love 
These delighted mortals prove. 



VcixjanI hear your glorious task; 

I do not from your labours ask 

In gorgeous panoply to shine. 

For war was ne'er a sport of mine. 

No — let me have a silver bowl, 

Where I may cradle all my soul ; 

Rut mind that, o'er its simple frame 

No mimic constellations flame ; 

Nor grave upon the swelling side, 

Orion, scowling o'er the tide. 

I care not for the glitt'ring wain. 

Nor yet the weeping sister train. 

But let the vine luxuriant roll 

Its blushing tendrils round the bowl. 

While many a rose-lipp'd bacchant maid* 

Is culling clusters in their shade. 

I/;t sylvan gods, in antic shapes. 

Wildly press the gushing grapes. 

And flights of Loves, in wanton play, 

Wing through the air their winding way; 

While Venus from her harbour green, 

Looks laughing at the joyous scene, 

And young Lyocus by her side 

Sits, worthy of so bright a bride. 



considerabl'S interpolations of his own, which he thinks are 
indispensably necessary to the cnmplotion of the descripiiun. 
< This ode, Aulus Gelliiis tells u», was jHTformed at an en- 
tertainment where he was present. 

* ff'hiir many a rosf-lt'pp'd bacchant maftl, ^c."] I have 
availed myself here of the additional lines given in thf^ 
Vatican manuscript, which have not been accurately inserteti 
in any of the ordinary editions : — 

Tltttiftv afAxtXtve uM 

K«< ^«T^b«f Kttr ItVTtt 

n«ifi 3l Xr,vn itovt 
AtifcCaT«< )r«T*t/»r«(, 
T*u(0- mrv^tvf ytXanritf, 
Km xV^^s rovf t^ttrmf, 
K«4 Kv6i^t ytXmrmv, 
'OfAW k»X«/ \vm,ntt 



10 



MOORE'S WOEKS. 



SGtn.proA, wotildst thou glad my soul. 

Grave for mc an ample htrnU 

Worthy to shine in hull or bower. 

When spring-tTinc brings the revcllcr'i hour. 

Grave il with themes of eho&te design, 

Fit for 11 niuiple Iward like mine. 

Display not there the barbarous rites 

In which miigious zeal dcligbt« ; 

Nor any lalo of tragic fate 

Which History shudders to relate. 

No — cull thy fancies from above. 

Themes of heav'n and themes of love 

Let Bacchus, Jove's ambrosial boy, 

Distil the gTiip<j in drops of joy, 

And while he smile* at every tear^ 

Let warm-cy'd Venu*, dancing ncaTj 

With spirits of the genial bed. 

The dewy herbage deftly tread. 

Let Love be thert% without his aruis^. 

In timid nakedness of chunu^j 

And all the Graces, link'd with L^jve, 

Stray, Inugliing, through the shudowy grove ■, 

» D^efcn Ihlnkt tbtt UiU <wJe ti tmore modrm liiiUntbn of 
llw pnccding. There Is » poeo] bj CfftUii CAlca||nli}u&. In 
th9 Bianiun' of batb, whero he give* InttructiiMU About the 
iRilUnf of m Hiif . 

Tamalilt annul um mfhl 

£t (kbrc, ci apte, ct commodet &c. Jkc 

* Let Lmtt he tkere^ vttiAotn kii arm§, |t.] Tbu« Smtiiuuuro 
In the edugue ol Giltido aell' Are«il« t — 

Vegnan U ta^bl Amorl 
Senaa flamroeUa; 6 itraJl. 
6cheraaj>do tnilaiD* parfolaCtl • audi. 

flnllsriiit on the Inaj irliif . 

A tr^in of nakid Cupf«la came, 
Spofttnc Arotittd In harm lea* ring, 

Without a dart, without ■ flame. 

And tbuf in the Penrlgllium Venerlai — 

Itm D;vi>^«t pcMult anna, ferlatiiii «•! amor. 

Love li dlaaormM — je njrmphat tn lafetjr atraj, 
Y<Hir twaoQit now maf boaAt a holkUj ! 

* Jhtf «A f iftkfrt dfmlh taft, 

i irtm^ifot tkt rMv ko§$,\ An Alhulon to the fable, thai 
Apatio bad kUled Ida lwlee«d bof Kfaclnlli. white |>lay1ng 
vttb btm at 4]uolta. *' T1»U (aafi M. ta l*^oM>e) M ai»ur«d]j 
lb« M<ii»e t4 the lexL. and M cantiol mlmii nf tmy oihrr." 

Hie llallan tnuiii ' themtelTCt the trmihlfof a 

mfm, bats talMD i : malifng Aiiacr«iiin hlnaelf 

axplala Ihb GOito, i i. tb«liiOit Utoral of aojr of 

Ma coo lor non gluocht Apollo } 
Ch« In tifv f IMO 

A Claelatto laccft 1) flollo* 

* Tlili beaotlftd lctlati.irbkHUi»«o«niiiMllattnf» liairpaitrf<^ 
b«i(fid to Jitllao, a fttfal poet, tba V«i1«ib 119. pruoouneva to 



l^Tiile rosy boys disporting round. 
In circlets trip the velvet ground. 
fiat ah ! if there Apollo toyt, 
I tzemble for the rosy boys.^ 



ODE Vl.< 



Afl late I sought the spangled bowers, 
To cull a wreath of nmtin tiowerar 
Where many an early njse was weeptog, 
1 found the urchin Cupid sleeping.* 
I caught the boy^ a goblet's tide 
Was richly mantling by my side, 
I caught him by his downy wing. 
And whelm'd him in the racy spring. 
Th«:ii drank I down the poisun'd bowl. 
And Love now nestles in my soul. 
Oh yei, my »oul is Cupid's nc*t, 
1 feel lusL fluttering in my breast. 

be the jrennifie onprlng of AnacraoB. It baa* ladood, all kb* 

features of the pareut : *^ 

et facile iaiclla 
NoKJtftur ab amnnmi. 

* IVkere mamjf an ftirtif rote tras werpimg^ 
IJbmttd tkt urcMin Cmpid tittpmg,} Tbli Mea (a prrlUIy 
imitated In the foUowtng eplffram by Andreaa Kauire^ua ; — 
Florentei dam foita vagaai inoa U/ella par iKHtoa 

Texlt odorati* Iflia caoa mala. 
Bote roia« Inter latttagileiii in remit AmoraB 

Et ilmul annenii florlLrut tmplkuit. 
LurLnlur primo, et cuntra nlteDUtHii alU 

tuilonaitui tcDtat lolrcre vlDcla [>uer : 
Mi»x ubl Uctcolai et dlgnac matro furlHaa 

Vtdit c-t ora IptoA nata movore EhMM, 
im|KrftUotque coins ambrorioa at MntU odofM 

Quutqm* legit dftl iD>Mae tiaatiM Arabs ; 
" 1 (dixit) mea, quve ncmim UbU mUmt, ABOfMH, 

Impcrlo icdes bBC oflt apta meo.'* 

A* fair Iljella, tbnmgli tbe blocnaj grove, 
A wreath of nuar talBgled Aow^reu wove, 
Within a roM a aleeptag Lova ^bt Ibiuul, 
And Id tho iwbted wreaths the baby bouoA. 
Awhile he »tni£sled. nad impatient tried 
To brrak the roAjr botida the rlrgla tied % 
Bui wbca he mw her boton't radiant twell, 
Uer r^atures. wbere tbe eye ol iove uLght d^ell ; 
And caught (h* anHbrotlal odourf of bar hair, 
Kich aa (be breatblngt nf Arabtan air; 
•• <lh I mother V«ni»,"' (uld the raptur'd cbiM* 
Bf charmi, uf aiore than mortal hloooi, tteg ud'd.) 
**Co, Mvk «H*>lh<T bojf, thnu'tt loM tbUie own, 
*■ Bx«IJi*i arnii iball now lie CupUt't throne t '* 

ThU epigram of Kaiifcirlua la ImUated bf l.«tfoeko P«ie* 

In a |M>e(fi, brgltmlnf 

Meiitre raccegtle bar uno, hor altro Aoee 
Victna a un rto dl cbtare ei lucid' onde, 
Lldla,Ae.Ao. 



^ 



ODES OF ANACREON. 



11 



ODE VII.t 

Ths women tell me ereiy daj 

That all my bloom has past awaj. 

" Behold,** the pretty wantoos cry, 

** Behold this mirror with a sigh ; 

The locks upon thy brow are few. 

And, like the rest, they*re withering too!" 

Whether decline has thinn*d my hair, 

Fm sore I neither know nor care ; > 

Bat this I know, and this I feel. 

As onward to the tomb I steal. 

That still as death approaches nearer. 

The joys of life are sweeter, dearer; ^ 

And had I but an hour to Htc, 

That little hoar to bliss Fd gire. 



ODB V!!I.« 
I CARE not for the idle state 
Of Persia's king *, the rich, the great : 
I envy not the monarch's throne, 
Nor wish the treasured gold my own. 

1 jUberti has ixniUtod this ode in a poem, beginning 
Kisa mi dice e Oori 
Tiral, ta M* par veglio. 
s Whether 4eH»me hst thhm*d aiy hair, 
Tm tmre I neither kmow nor care ;] Henr/ Stephen very 
lastly remarks the elegant negligence of expression in tlie 
onglul Ikere z 

£>« )t rm$ M0UMt fu»t 
E*v tten, ur* mmnXtm, 

And Loogrpierre has adduced frooi Catullus, wliat he thinlu 
a similar instance of this sini^icity of manner : — 

Ipae qnis sit, ntnun idt, an non sit, id quoque netdt 
LoBgepierre vas a good critie ; hot perhaps the line which 
he has selected is a specimen of a cardesiness not very oom- 
amdable. At the same time I ooofess, that none of the 
Latin poets hare erer appeared to me so capable of imitating 
the graces of Anaereon as Catullus, if he had not allowed a 
deprsTcd iaaagination to hurry him so often into mere rulgar 



' Thst mil OM demlh appromdiet nearer^ 
The JogB qf life are tweeter^dearer i"^ Pontanos has a rery 
deUcate thooglit npoo the subject of old age : 

Qoid rides, Matrona ? senem quid temnis amantem ? 
Quisqais amat nuIlA est conditione senex. 
Why do you scorn my want of youth. 
And with a smile my brow behold ? 
Lady dear I believe this truth. 
That be who lores cannot be old. 
<** The German poet Lesshig has imitated this ode. VoLi. 
p.M." Degen. Gail de Editionibus. 

Baxter conjectures that this was written upon the occasion 
of oar poet's returning tlie money to Polycratet, according to 
the anecdote in Stobseus. 
» ieare notjbr the UU tIaU 

QfPertia'9 Ung, ^.] " There is a fh«ment of Archi- 
lodms in Plutarch, ' Da tranquillitate anhni,* which oar poet 
hae very cloaely imitated bare ; it begins. 



Bat oh ! be mine the rosy wreath, 

Ite freshness o'er my brow to breathe ; 

Be mine the rich perfomes that flow. 

To cool and scent my locks of snow.' 

To-day Fll haste to quaff my wine. 

As if to-morrow ne'er woald shine ; 

Bat if to-morrow comes, why then — 

Fll haste to quaff my wine again. 

And thus while all our days are bright. 

Nor time has dimm'd their bloomy light. 

Let us the festal hours beguile 

With mantling cup and cordial smile ; 

And shed from each new bowl of wine 

The richest drop on Bacchus' shrine. 

For Death may come, with brow unpleasant. 

May come, when least we wish him present. 

And beckon to the sable shore. 

And grimly bid us— drink no more ! 



ODE IX. 
I PRAT thee, by the gods above, ? 
GiTc me the mighty bowl I love. 



Ov ftm rm Fvyta rm nkmxf^^nt fuku.* 
In one of the monkish imitators of Anaereon we tod the same 
thought : — 

T»XV IfMIt l<«TW, 

Tt rt 3iAu< y\9%e%t ; 
(iHAuf Vvyuft rm mms vm ; 
.• Be mine the rich pei/itmet thaljlov. 
To cool and $emi atf lock* qf $nuu>.} In the original, ftm- 
fM#t s«raCf«xu» v«ii»^y. On account of this idea of perfuming 
the beard, Cornelius de Pauw pronouncrs thr whole ode to 
be the spurious production of some laMririou* monk. • ho was 
nursing hi* beard with unguenU. But he thotild have known, 
that this was an ancient eastern custom, which, if we may 
believe Savary, still exists: ** Vous voyex. Monsieur (says 
this traveller), que I'usage antique de se parAraier la t^te ct 
la barbe *, cel^br^ par le prophHe Roi, subsiste encore de nos 
jours." Lettre 12. Savary likewise cites this very ode of 
Anaereon. Angerianus has not thought the idea inconsistent, 
having introduced it in the following lines : 

Hjk mihi cura, rosis et dngere teropora myrto, 

Et curas multo delapidare mero. 
Hcc mihi cura, comas et bartiam tingere succo 

AMyrio et dulces continuare jooos. 
This be my care, to wreathe my brow with flowers. 

To drench my sorrows in the ample bowl ; 
To pour rich perfumes o'er my beard in showers. 
And give full loose to mirth and joy of soul I 
7 The poet is here in a frensy of enjoyment, and it is, indeed, 
** amabilis insanla ; '*— 

Furor di poesia, 
Di lasdvia, e di vino, 
Triplicato furore, 
Baccho, Apollo, et Aroore. 

RitraUi dti Cavalier Marfno. 
This is truly, as Scaliger expresses it, 
— - Insanire dulce 
Et sapidum furere furorem. 

• " Start mrMntwa la mftm qood dswndll la I 



12 



MOORE'S WORKS. 



And let me sing, in -wild delight, 
" I will— I will be mad to-night!" 
AlcmsDon once, as legends tell. 
Was frenzied by the fiends of hell ; 
Orestes too, with naked tread, 
Frantic pac*d the mountain-head ; 
And why ? a murdered mother's shade 
Haunted them still where'er they strayed. 
But ne'er could I a murderer be. 
The grape alone shall bleed by me ; 
Yet can I shout, with wild delight, 
" I will — I will be mad to-night" 

Alcides' self, in days of yore, 
Imbru'd his hands in youthful gore. 
And brandished, with a maniac joy. 
The quiver of th' expiring boy : 
And AJax, with tremendous shield. 
Infuriate scour'd the guiltless field. 
But I, whose hands no weapon ask, 
No armour but this joyous fiask ; 
The trophy of whose frantic hours 
Is but a scatter'd wreath of flowers, 
Ev'n I can sing with wild delight, 
** I will — I will be mad to-night 1" 



01)K X.- 



How am I to punish thee. 
For the wrong thou'st done to me. 
Silly swallow, prating thing * — 
Shall I clip that wheeling wing ? 
Or, as Tereus did, of old,** 
(So the fabled tale is told,) 
Shall I tear that tongue away. 
Tongue that utter'd such a lay ? 



1 TbU ode is addretsed to a iwallow. I find from Degeii 
and fkt>in Gafrt index, tliat the Germau poet Weisne hat 
ImlUtedit. Scherz. Lioder. lib. ii. carnn. A. ; that lUmlcraifo 
baa ImttatiHl it, Lyr. Dlumenlose, lib. ir. p. 335. ; and tome 
other*. See Gail de KdltionilHit. 

We are here referred by Degen to that dull book, the 
Kplttlei of Aiciphron, tenth epiitlc, third lN>ok ; where lophon 
complaint to Rra«ton of being awakened by the crowing of a 
cock, from hit vi«ion of riches. 

* Siiiy twtUiotr, pratrng thing, ^-c] The loquacity of the 
•wallow was proTerbialifvd ; thus Nirostratus : — 

El rs rvftx^H nm rtXXm mtu rmx^H Xmkut 

Ekhytr' »t n,utn rm^§nrrtfi r«Xv. 

If in prating ftrom rooming till night 

A sign of our wisdom there be. 
The swallows are wUer bf right. 

For they prattle much (aster than wc. 



Ah, how thoughtless hast thou been ! 
Long before the dawn was seen. 
When a dream came o'er my mind, 
Picturing her I worship, kind. 
Just when I was nearly blest, 
Loud thy matins broke my rest ! 



ODE XL* 



" Tell me, gentle youth, I pray thee. 
What in purchase shall I pay thee 
For this little waxen toy. 
Image of the Paphian boy ? " 
Thus I said, the other day. 
To a youth who pass'd my way : 
" Sir," (he answer'd, and the while 
Answer'd all in Doric style,) 
" Take it, for a trifle take it ; 
'Twas not I who dared to make it ; 
No, believe me, 'twas not I ; 
Oh, it has cost me many a sigh. 
And I can no longer keep 
Little gods, who murder sleep!"* 
" Here, then, here," (I said with joy,) 
Here is silver for the boy : 
He shall be my bosom guest. 
Idol of my pious breast ! " 

Now, young Love, I have thee mine. 
Warm me with that torch of thine; 
Make me feel as I have felt. 
Or thy waxen frame shall melt : 
I must bum with warm desire. 
Or thou, my boy — in yonder fire.* 



' Or^ as Teretu did, <^oUL, 4rc.3 Modem poetry has con- 
firmed the name of Philomel upon the nightingale ; but many 
respectable authorities among the ancients assigned this meta- 
morphose to Progne, and made Philomel the swallow, at 
Anacreon does here. 

< It is difficult to presenre with any grace the narrative sim- 
plicity of this ode, and the humour of the turn with which It 
concludes. I feel, indeed, that the transaction mast iqipear 
vapid, if not ludicrous, to an English reader. 

^ And I can no longer ktrp 

LitttfgodMf trho murder tierp!] I have not literally ren- 
dered the epithet «-«»r«(i«ni ; if-it has any meaning here, k is 
one, perhaps, blotter omitted. 

* / must Intm with warm dnire. 

Or thou, my boy — in yonder fire."] From this IxMigeplerra 
conjectures, that, whatever Anacreon might say, he felt tonle- 
times the inconveniences of old age, and bereaolicita trom Cb« 
power of Love a warmth which he coold no tongcr napeet 
firom Nature 



ODES OF ANACREON. 



Id 



ODE XIL 
Thet fell how Atr«, wild with love, 
R<«nis the nionnC and haunk-d grov^ej ' 
CyVle'i name he howl« around, * 
The glooEDy WziAt return* the »ound ! 
Oft icKv t>x Clarot' hallow 'd spriog, * 
TIm TtMiarieft of th« laoretl'd king 
Quaff iht inspiring, tna^c stream. 
And rmve m wjld« prophi^tic dream« 
Bot ff«ix£i«d dreams are not for me^ 
Great Bacchm is my deity ! 
Full of math, and Ml of him, 
Wktle floatiiig odonn round me twim, * 
While mantling bowls are full supplied, 
And yoo sit blushing by my side, 
1 w ni be mad and raving too — 
^tad, iDv girl, with love for you I 



I WTIJ^ I will, the ci>nfljet*s past, 
And 111 ccnaent to love at hist. 



i flMy tMMm^ Jty$, trild with kuve, 

Uamm §ke mommi 4md kawUed grave ,-] Thcr« arc minf 
•tof1c« or the I«jir»t of Cybol* and Alyi* It h 
I tftof h* wo miitllsted, but wh<rUi«r by hit uwji fury, 
m CyMv> iimkmwft k a point upon whidli autliort are not 



* <Viqyii ma me ke kovlt mrommd^ ^.} I bat's here adopted 
tft* iKwaiiillnii vbldi Blai Andreai gilve* lo Cybclr : — 

In rooQtlbafl Cjrbdlen 
M afoo tonaiia boato. 

> <Kliw, l|r Qmfwr kmao»*d*primg, frO TbU fmintaln wai 
te afiwf<«,eoiiMcnt«d to ApoUo. and tittuilotl betwron Cohv 
la liMila. The fod htu.i an ornclo thtr^t. 
lo It Id Ilia AtiacTMincica : 

icnd Dt eoodtui <c«lro, 
Veftati qui Clarlai aqoiu 
Ebibpre lo^uaccA, 
Qao plua canunt, plura rulunt. 



un, 4rcO Spnietil hai qiiit« miatakrn the 
tm^m% iti m t^gt0 ^ f* a* api^Uad to the |»«t'a miJtr(»4« — " Met 
IMpillia aokli;" — thru intvr|>rcting it In a ■cni« nrhldi 
anil waal «ilto«r deUcary or gailar«try ; If not. perhat>t, both. 

i »oak to mrmt, umManmUd^ Im ;] Longepicrrc hai Iwre 

lami «B «|riffraiB (Voro thu AnthtAogia., l" which the poeL 

Bi tbr armour again*! Lore. 

Wltb RflWoo I eoTcr mf bfraat ai a ihteld, 
:mtle l^me in tbe field; 
kiii (odthlp, I'll n«'flr be diimay'd ; 
If BaidiM* tbouUl rvcr advance to liU aid. 




Cupid has long, with smiling art. 

Invited me to yield my heart ; 

And I have thought that pcoee of mind 

Should Dot be for a smile resigned : 

And *o repeird the tender lure. 

And hopVJ my heart would sleep secure. 

But, slighted in his boasted charms, 
The angry infant flew to arms ; 
He (ilung hiii quiver*a golden frame, 
He took his bow, his shoils of 6ame, 
And proudly 6ummon*d me to yield. 
Or meet him ou the martial field. 
And what did I unthinking do ? 
I took to arms, undaunted, too ;^ 
Assumed the corslet, shield, and spear. 
And, like Pelides, smil'd at fear. 
Then (hejir it, all ye powers above J) 
I fought with Love E I fought with Love E 
And now his arrows ali were shed. 
And I had just in terror fled — 
When, heaving an indignant sigh, 
To see mc thus unwoandfd fly. 
And, having now no other dart, 
He shot himself mto my heart I * 



Alai t (iiea, uuable to combat the two, 
Uofortuniite warrior, what should I do? 

ThJf Idi^a or till? Irrttthtihllltj of Cupid ami Bacchui unltfd, 
it d^llcNtdjr expre9i«d In an italian poffn» whi^h U bo trulf 
Anacreontic, that ill introduction here ma) lie pArdoned. It 
la an Imilation^ iiide<^, otour poct'i tixth 'odn. 

L«Toui Atnore iln quul ricino flume 

Ovr giuro (FiUtor) clie iteTead' lo 

Be¥ci k fljifnme, ansl i'ittctio Uio, 

Ch'or con I'humEde piume 

LatrlTiftto mi schi^rsii ai cor intomo. 

Ma che larel >'io lo t>0Tet&i un gioriio, 

Bacco, nei tuo Mquore ? 

Sarei, pju ciie non aano ebro d'Amore. 

The iircbtn oribe bow and quiver 

Wai Ikiithln^ in a nefghbourinf rlTor. 

Where, na T dronlt on ^Mter^eTe, 

(Shcpherd-jQutii, the tafe lie]Iev*',> 

'Twai not a cooiing, crjrttal draugiit, 

*Twat liquid Hamer I madly qualT'd i 

For Love was In tlio rippling tide, 

T felt hirn to roy ttofom giidi? ;. 

And now the wily, wanton tninlon 

rUjFi round my iieart willi rfttlctji ]4ninn. 

A day it wa* of fatal «tar. 

But ah, 'twere eren more fqtai far, 

If, Bacciiuiii, in Ihy cup of Are, 

] found thia nuLt'rlntir< young desire; 

Then, thrn indeed my loul would prove, 

Ev'n more than ever, drunk with lore 1 

* Andt having nouf no other tfart, 

Nr thol him$t'if into tny heart t ] Dry den hat parodied thi* 
thought in the followUig extrava^iint Unci; — 

= I'm hU a'er Lore \ 

Nity, i am Love, ILove shot, and iliot to Cnit, 
tie »hot Itimi4?lf (nlo my breait at lost. 



J 



14 



MOORE'S AVORKS. 



My heart — alas the luckless day! 
Received the god, and died away. 
Farewell, farewell, my faithless shield ! 
Thj lord at length is forc'd to yield. 
Vain, Tain, is every oatward care. 
The foe's within, and triumphs there. 



ODE XIV.. 

Count me, on the summer trees, 
Eyery leaf that courts the breeze ; ^ 
Count me, on the foamy deep. 
Every wave that sinks to sleep ; 
Then, when you have number*d these 
Billowy tides and leafy trees, 

> The poet, in this catalogue of hU mictreuet, mean* nothing 
more than, by a livelj hyperbole, to Inform ut, that hU heart, 
unfettered by any one object, was warm with devotion towards 
the sex in general Cowley is Indebted to this, ode for the 
bint of his ballad, called ** The Chronicle ; *' and the learned 
Menage has imitated it in a Greek Anacreontic, which has so 
much ease and spirit, that the reader may not be displeased at 
seeing it here : — 

nP02 BIQNA. 
Et mXnm rm ^vXXm^ 

E4 witmrts «r«f • varrs, 
Um^mMTimtt ts ^m/*fAmft, 

Atrmt Btm, «f*9/Mif , 
K«i rtuf %fimn t^mrm4 

K«(«i», yvtmttMf Xm^w, 

Aiumv rt tuu MiA^mmm , 

NiKi|i)«f rt rcrwr 

'O 0H ^$Kh ^knwt. 

Avrvf vMft E{«rw*, 
Ai#v*(v«» Af(«iin|f, 

Au AM>tif ^XK^m 

Tell the foliage of the woods. 
Tell the billows of the Hoods, 
Number midnight's starry store. 
And the sands that crowd the shore. 
Then, my Bion, thou mayst count 
Of my loves the vast amount. 
I've been loving, all my days. 
Many nymphs, in many ways ; 
Virgin, widow, maid, and wife— > 
Tve been doting all my life. 
Kaiads, Nereids, nymphs of fountains, 
Goddesses of groves and mountains. 
Fair and sable, great and small. 
Yes, I swear I've lov'd them all I 
Soon was every passion over, 
I was but the moment's lover ; 



Count me all the flames I prove. 
All the gentle nymphs I love. 
First, of pure Athenian maids 
Sporting in their olive shades. 
You may reckon just a score. 
Nay, 111 grant you fifteen more. 
In the fam*d Corinthian grove. 
Where such countless wantons rove,' 
Chains of beauties may be found. 
Chains, by which my heart is bound ; 
There, indeed, are nymphs divine. 
Dangerous to a soul like mine. ^ 
Many bloom in Lesbos' isle ; 
Many in Ionia smile ; 
Rhodes a pretty swarm can boast ; 
Caria too contains a host. 
Sum them all — of brown and fair 
You may count two thousand there. 

Oh 1 I'm such a roving elf. 
That the Qu^n of love herself. 
Though she practis'd all her wiles. 
Rosy blushes, wreathed smiles, 
AU her beauty's proud endeavour 
Could not chain my heart for ever. 

* CotaU me, on the tummer tree$^ 

Every let^f, ^c] lliis figure Is called, by rhf torlcians, Uie 
Impossible («^M«r9ii), and is very fk'equently made um* of in 
poetry. The amatory writers have exhausted a world of 
imagery by it, to express the infinite number of kistea which 
they require from the ilps of their mistresses : In this Catullus 
led the way. 

— Quam sldera multa, cum tacet nox, 

Furtivos homlnum vidcut amores ; 

Tam te basis multa baslare 

Vesano satis, et super, Catullo est : 

Quse nee pemumerare curlosi 

Possint, nee mala fasdnare lingua. Carm. 7. 

As many stellar eyes of light. 

As through the silent waste of night, 

Gasing upon this world of shade. 

Witness some secret youth and maid. 

Who fair as thou, and fond as I, 

In stolen joys enamour'd lie, — 

So many liisses, ere I slumber. 

Upon those dew-bright lips 1*11 number ; 

So many kisses we shall count. 

Envy can never tell the* amount. 

No tongue shall blab the sum, but mine ; 

No lips shall fascinate, but thine I 

* /it thefam'd Corinthian gropr. 

Where tuch conntleu wantons rove, l^.} Corinth was very 
famous for the beauty and number of Its rourtetans. Venus 
was the deity prinripally worshipped by the people, and their 
constant prayer was, tliat the gods should iitcrease the number 
of her worshippers. We may perceive from the appllcaiiaa 
of the verb ma^itBsmZut, in Ari*tophanes, that the liOMririty of 
the Corinthians had become proverbial. 

^ There, indeed, are njfmph$ divine^ 

Dangerovt to a $oul like mine / ] " With Justice hat the po«t 
attributed beauty to the women of Greece." — Degem. 

M. de Pauw, the author of Dissertations opoo tbo Gretkt, 
is of a diflVrent opinion ; he thinks, that by a caprkJoua par- 
tiality of nature, the other sex bad all the beauty ; and by this 
suppoeiUon endeavours to account for a veiy ■iafiilai' itf n w 
atloa of inatlocC among that peopto. 



p 


^ 


• 






ODES OF ANACREON. 15 






Wliat, yon iiare ? I pi»y y«i, peace J 


VentiB, for a hymn of love. 




Hot* rU find before I cease. 


Warbled in her votive grove.'* 






Bare I told joa mil m j fl«mei, 


(Twas in sooth a gentle lay,) 






'Mong the unoroos Syrian damet ? 


Gave me to the bard away. 






Hare 1 oombered ererj one. 


See me now his ^thful minion. — 






GloviDg under Egypt's fan 7 


Thus with softly-gliding pinion, 






Or the nympH ytho blushing sweet 


To his lovely girl I bear 






D«ck the ihrine of Love in Crete i 


SoDgs of passion through the air. 






Where the God, with festal pby, 


Oft he blandly whitpcrs mr. 






Holdic«cnial holiday? 


" Soon, my bird, VU set you free." 




Still lA eliiite»» fttill renuiii 


But in vain be*U bid me fly, 




Gmdtet* vann, desiiiDg train ; » 


1 shall strrve him till 1 die. 




Slill there lie* a in)rriAd more 


Never could my plumes sustoio 




Oil tJw mbltf Indians f hore } 


Rufiding winds and chilling rain. 






These, and mznj far remor'd. 


O'er the plains;, or in the dell, 






All are losing — all are loT*d 1 


On the mountain's savage swell, 
Seeking in the desert wood 
Gloomy shelter, rtistic food. 
Now 1 lead a life of ease. 
Far from rugged haunts like theee. 














From Anacreon's hand I eat 






ODE XV. 


Food delicious, viands, sweet } 






Tn,L me, why, my sweetest dorc, ^ 


Flutter o*eT his goblet's brim. 






Thua your humid pinions ihovl*, 


Sip the foamy wine with him. 






flliHI^tMg throu^ the air in fihuartTS 


Then, when 1 have wanton'd round 






Fiiimrir of the balmiest flowi'rs ? 


To his lyre's beguiling sound ; 






Tell me whither, whence you rove. 


Or with gently -moving wings 






Tell me all, my awceteit dore. 


Fann'd the nunstrel while he sings: 
On Ms harp 1 fiink in ilumbers, 






ConoQS stranger, I belong 


Dreaming still of dulcet numbers I 






To the hard of Teian song ; 








With his mandate now I fly 


This is all — away — away — 






To the nymph of aznrc eje ; — 


Tou have made me waste the day. 






She, whose eye has maddened many,' 


How Tve chotterM I prating crow 






Eui the poet more than any. 


Never yet did chatter so. 






* G^t^ mmwm, datrmg tr&m ;] Tb« GBdJlinisii firti w er« 


S«5 the poem. Diuilel I1cinilu», fn ipeaklng of Dnutu, «ho 






fJka thm Bfllidliret af tadU, whou 4MDCt$ are thm drMTlbed 


aJoptrd this method at tbo tinge of Ltsydtm, estpretMi a 






bf a rraaclk matbafi •* Lm dmnm wnt prwqtMj Loute* de* 


iimlLar tt'DtLment. 








Quo patrljfr non teodlt UDor ? Mandata referre 






m, l« OTBS d la CMlaacMi i» cw bal1eti> tout respire cette 


PottquAm h<imliMiin oeqailt mittere^ miiit aY«ra. 






rir*-| «l «• captJOM la voJupt^ tt 1m fanwtr — HUtoire 








m DiSMiiiu ill rTUli tfan rrf rirrr T 'r"- liapnal 


Fuller telli uk that at the slefe of JantMlero, the Christiana 








Intercepted a letter, tied to tbe lege of a date. Id which Ibe 






Smbi bustler of thctr daDcJog. w appevs from Mvtlal : — 


Pertlan Emperor promfied auUtaoce to Ibe tieileged. — llolj 
War, cap. 34. book 1. 




1 








LiblU. eplff.69. 


> Sh^, %pho§e eyt Am madden' d many, ^c] For -n^mnmt, la tba 






XrfO«plM Arioito li*d tbii ode of «kjt turd In bli mind. 


original, SScuoii!) and Schorlder conj^^ture that h-o ■bould read 






vhM ha WOM hto poem '* D« dlvenU •morlbui.'* Se« tJ&e 


tv<«i»w, fai alliiston to the ttroog Influence which ihli Qttf«et 








of bk lore held over the miod of Poljrcratea. See Defsiu 






' TiM tevvnf Anaemm, b««rUif a leu«r frofii the poet to 


< fViiti4./t>r«*^mno/iWr, 






Ito wktMi, la net bf a ttnuifer, «ftb wIunii tbte dlalo|tie tc 


Wathkd im k^ wotire grope, ^c } '* Thii paitafe l§ laralu* 
able, and I do not think tbat aiijr thing m boaatlful or ao 








delicate Has ever be«n uUd. Wb*t an Idea doiM it giire of the 






fhif w«il SDf dlitauoe trom bomf, a* tbo rooft c«rufn meani 


poetrj of the man, from whom Veout bcrielf, the mother of 






•r eoavaftaf tot«Ul<eac« back. Thai tender domoftic at- 


the Grojc^i ami the Fltaauret, pitrchaiea a little hfma wllh 






mdiaat, vbicltattfaeta tbia deltcatelUtk bird through every 


one <*f her ftiTourito dovei I ** Lemgepterre^ 






Ab«ot ■*« iUBc«l«y» tlU It Mttlei In Iti native nnt. aObriU 








la the salfcar of " The Fkaauraa of Meniory " a fine and in- 


mnkft AiucrtKiti tiU own panefjrrtit ; but poeu have a lloenee 








for pratilng themielvci, which, wltli lume indeed, may bo 






tM bf «1iai dian. traiuporu the timhd dove 


conildered a» compritcd under thdr general privilege of lle> 






TW wnmha of onqisiat, or tbo towi of love { 


Uon. 




1 






J 



16 



MOORE'S WORKS. 



ODE XVL> 

Thou, whose soft and rosy hues 
Mimic form and soul infuse,* 
Best of painters, come, portray 
The lovely maid that*s far away.' 
Far away, my soul I thou art. 
But l*vc thy beauties all by heart 
Paint her jetty ringlets playing. 
Silky locks, like tendrils straying ;« 
And, if painting hath the skill 
To make the spicy balm distil, ^ 
Let every little lock exhale 
A sigh of perfume on the gale. 
Where her tresses* curly flow 
Darkles o*er the brow of snow. 
Let her forehead beam to light. 
Burnished as the ivory bright 

1 ThU ode and the next maj be called companion- pirturef ; 
they are highly finished, and give us an excellent idea of the 
taste of the ancients in beauty. Franciscus Junius quotes 
them in his third book " De Pictura Vctenim." 

This ode has been imitated by Ronsard, Giuliano Goselini, 
*c. Ac Scaliger alludes to it thus in his Anacreontica : 

Olim lepore blando. 

Litis Tcrsibus 

Candidas Anacreon 

Quam pingcret amicus 

Descripsit Venerem suam. 
The Teian bard of former days, 
Attun*d his sweet dcscriptiTc lays. 
And taught the painter's liand to trace 
His fair beloved's every grace. 

In the dialogue of Caspar BarUeus. entitled "An forroosa sit 
ducenda," the reader will find many curious ideas and descrip. 
tions of womanly beauty. 

* 7!loH, trkoif tqfl and rosy htieSt 

"hiimic Jorm and ioul ii\fuse,'\ I have followed here the 
reading of the Vatican MS. e»iinf. Painting is called " the 
rosy art," either in refennice to colourin];. or as an indefinite 
epithet of excellence, IVom the as*oclation of beauty with 
that flower. Salviui has adopted this reading in his literal 
translation : — 

Delia rosea arte signore. 

* The lovrly maid that"* Jar away.^ If this portrait of the 
poet's mittrpts be not merely ideal, the omission of her name 
is much to be regretted. Meleager, in an epigram on Ana- 
creon, mentions " the golden Eurypyle " as his mistress. 

* Paint her jetty ringlets playing^ 

Silky locks like tendrils straying;] The ancients have 
been very enthusiastic in tlieir praises of the beauty of hair. 
Apolelus, in the second book of his Milesiacs, says, that 
Venus herself, if she were bald, though surrounded by the 
Graces and the I>oves, could not be pleasing even to her 
husband Vulcan. 

Steslchorus gave the epithet mnXkiwXtmmfiut to the Graces, 
and Simonides bostowe«l the same upon the Muse*. See 
Hadrian Junius's Dissertation up<m Hair. 

To this passage of our poet, Seldon alluded in a note on 
the Polydbion of Drayton. Song the Second, where obaerv. 
ing, that the epithet *« black.haircd ** was given by some of 



Let her eyebrows smoothly rise 
In jetty arches o*er her eyes. 
Each, a crescent gently gliding. 
Just conmiingling, just dividing. 

But, hast thou any sparkles warm. 
The lightning of her eyes to form ? 
Let them effuse the azure rays 
That in Minerva's glances blaze, 
Mix*d with the liquid light that lies 
In Cytherea's languid eyes. ^ 
0*er her nose and cheek be shed 
Flushing white and softened red ; 
Mingling tints, as when there glows 
In snowy milk the bashful rose. 7 
Then her lip, so rich in blisses, 
Sweet petitioner for kisses,* 
Rosy nest, where lurks Persuasion, 
Mutely courting Love*s invasion. 



the ancients to the goddess Isit, he says, ** Nor will I 
but that Anacreon (a man very Judicious in the provoking 
motives of wanton love), intending to bestow on hfs sweet 
mistress that one of the titles of woman*! special oriMUDcnt, 
well-haired (a«aXirXMMifMf ), thought of this when he gave 
his painter direction to make her black-haired.** 
> And, if painting hath the skiU 

To make the tpiey balm distil, 4«.] Tbos Phflottntos, 
speaking of a picture : mur« mm rm svl^ww «wv f»hm, mm 
tniM ytyfm^9m minm fuvm rm trftm. *' I admire the dewlneM 
of these roses, and could say that their rerj nnell vat 
painted." 
Mix'd tritk the liquid Kgki thai Net 
In Cytherea's languid eyes.] Ifarchtttl explains thiu the 
iyt*» of the original : — 

Dipingili umidetU 
Tremuli e lasdvetti, 
Qiiai gli ha Ciprigna I'alma Dea d* Aiaore. 

Tasso has painted in the same manner tlie eyesof Annlda: 

Qual raggio In onda le scintilla un ri» 
Kcgli umidi occhi tremulo • lasdvo. 
Within her humid, melting eyes 
A brilliant ray of laughter lies. 
Soft as the broken solar beam. 
That trembles in the azure stream. 
The mingled expression of dignity and teodemeM, wbieh 
Anacreon requires the painter to infuse into the eye* of his 
mistress, is more amply described In the subsequent ode. 
Both descriptions are so exquisitely touched, that the artist 
must have been great indeed, if he did not yield in palatinff 
to the poet. 
' Mingling tints, as u-hen there glows 
In snowy milk the basJiful rose.] Thus Propertiiit, deg. S. 
lib. ii. 

Utqite ros« puro lacte natant folia. 
And Davcnant, in a little poem called " The MistraM,*" 
C-itch as it falli the Scythian snow. 
Bring blushing roses steep'd in milk. 
Thus too Taygctus : — 

Quae lac atque rosas vincis candore nibeoti. 
These last words may perhaps defend the *' Buihliiff wlOto*' 
of the translation. 
• Tkemkerlip, so r/cA As AMmsr. 
SimW peUtiomerM kistesj TIm ** lip, proroklot klawa,** 








^^^^^ 




■ 




ODES OF ANACREON. 17 


Kext, beneath Ifae velvet chiQ, 


And there the ravcn*B di -*"-,. 




WlioM dimple hidcfl a Love within, > 


With the golden Buiibi 






Mould her neck with grace descending. 


Let no wreath, with ariiui tuiut-, - 






In a bearcn of beauty ending ; 


The flowing of his locks cimfine ; 






While countless c harms » above, below. 


But leave them loose to every breeie. 






Sport and flutter round it» snow. 


To take what shape and conrBe they pk^ose. 






Now let a tlottting, lucid veil. 


Beneath the forehead, fair as snow. 






Shadow her form, but not conceal ; * 


But flushed with manhood's early glow. 






A charm may peep, a hue may beam. 


And guileless as the dews of dawn, ^ 






And leave the rvst to Fancy** dream. 


Let the majestic brows be drawn. 






Eoough — 'tis she ! 'tis all 1 seek ; 


Of ebon hue, enriched by gold, 






It glowE, it lives, it soon will speak I 


Such as dark, shinlDg snakes onfiold. 




Ll 


Mix in his eyes the power alike. 


^m 




1 


With love to win, with awe to strike i^ 
Borrow from Mars his look of ire, 


n 




I 






From V^enus her soft glance of fire ; 






ODE XVll.s 


Blend them in such expression here, 






Ajtd now with all thy pencirs trath. 


That we by turns may hope and fear I 






PttTtrmy BalbyUus, lovely youth ! 








Let his hair, in mosses bright. 


Now ttom the sunny apple seek 






Fall like floating rajs of light ; * 


The velvet down that spreads his cheek i 








» let fio »rrr«lft, trith art/vliwmr, ^c] If th*of if IimiI bifne. 








wblrh is partkularl}' beautiful^ can admit of anjr additional 








VAlinr, that falu« l« confciTfrdl by Gray*i aduitratloo of It. 






0kH9«tes LMnbliitii^ la bU iinC«« upon LucretJut, UMIi as 


See hii letter* to Weit. 






wttk 1^0 S9p«rrqt aolhitrlij of cxp^iienn?^ thai " SiuvLut 


Somr annotatori have quoted on Citlji pjntagc the di>«er^ 






tiros fMeaUntur ptaeUv («liioi9, qium qtur Aunt brerlbui 


tlon of FhotU'i hair In ApulelULii but nothing can be more 






k^W" ikmd iEneai SflviiM. In hU tedlout unialetcttifif 


dUtant from tho timplieitj of our poeC* man tier, than thai 






morv of th« lotrc* of EtiiT^ua ^nd LucrctiA, wlura h« p«r« 


alltctatlon ofrlchneM which dkUniulibet the atjie of Apu> 






iMiliilm ilw hMtittw of th« heroine (in • *mf CbJm sod 


IduL 






toftiwiil •tyU of Uilnicjr )« detcribn her Upt thiu : — Of par- 
vm 4roeD«qi)F, labia coralUal eolodt ad tnort citn spllulma.' ' 


* Bntjtuik'd tritk manhood' t tarty gtow, 

jMt guifrlTM m thf dcwi i\f da\pt\^ ^c.\ TDrremiiiH. upon 






the words *' inil^nrm tcnui fronte/^ In Horace, Dd. 33. lib. 1. 






1 N**i, hfM^k tk^ frtwt ckim. 


iaof opinion, Incorrcrtlj, 1 think, that *^i<omxiX" hem baara 






W^ar dhmpU kidct 4 tove fpUktn, ^r] Madame Dader 


the taote incaninf os th« word tt.«mX*t, 






hM fWaCBd iMT* Iwo pntiy linea of V'arro : — 


7 Ml J in kit eyei the power aiikf. 








With tow io um, witk au>e t^t itrikf f 4r.] TaiiO gIvM ■ 








itmllar character to the eye* of Clnrlud^ : — 






Is tw chin If a delicate dimple. 


Lunpegf^lar gU CMrchl, e (blioror fU ffuardl 






Bj Cuplil'i own Bof*r Imprett •, 


Dold ne 1* Ira. 






Tl»»re Deiiuty, bvwUcbing ly timplci. 


Her efca were llasbinf with a heavpnly beat, 






tJa« ebns«u her Inooccnl oeit. 


A fire that, OTsn ia aiigt^r, ilill wa* iweet* 






* Xov Ui mjkMHmg^ litcnf vetT, 


The poetetf VeromlcaCamhara U more dJITuse upon tbLi 








V ariety of expreialoo : — 






of d^l)^cJoB« wfakb lesTea fmagin^tlon to complota tho 


Occhl lucentl e belli, 






plelan. Ins bwa leldoiB adopted In ibe iniitatloDi of UiU 


Come euer puo ch* in un tnedetmo l&tante 






Iwmrtftil yoMB. aomard ia «u;epti(H»abljr iuIduu* ; and 


Ka«ca.a de toI iI nuute fumae et lante ? 






ralilisaai. In bla dtannini portrait of a girl, full or rich aod 


Lleti, meiH^ lupertii^ humll', altk^H, 








VI raottrate In un punto, onde di ipcrotf, 






« iMifii dW ttt m* tnlMOdl '^ «liould be alwajra Iclt to fanof . 


El dl tiinor, de enii^lcte, Ac. &c 








Oh C tpU m^, brightly. blaming eye. 






JuJcnMiif or the aacteola tn Iwauty, ivlll ti« indulgrd bf coa- 


Wbenco in your tittle orbit lie 






flrillMt /lOilua d« Fictura Velerum. Ub. JIK c.9.. wberc he 


So man J dilftrcnt traitj of tito. 






wO ittd s ftfj curliMiA Acli'd Ion of (leacriiatlEjcu and rpithcM 


Eapreiiing eacb a. new de4br«. 






<rf ponoost p«rfi^oi» Juaiut cDm|>^ref thii ado wktb a 


Kow with pride or *coro you darklf*. 






iaigftpttoc of TheodorJc kli»K of the Goilii, In the msqochI 


Now with loire, with KladQ4?fi, iparkle. 






■ptsilg, am book, of Sidooiut ApuUiJiarlt. 


Whild we who vlpw the varyinff mkror. 






* UihH hmir, in m*\t*n i>ri^kt. 


Fct"! by turni br^th hope and terror. 






Fmti mfJUmthtft ra^t of U^ht ; |irO He hero duicribpi 


ChPTreau, citing the ItoM of our poet. In hii critique on 






f^ ■Jinny hair, tba " Oara coma," which the ancieiitt to 


the poemi of Malherbc. produeet a Latin verilon of them 






niodb ttUaiffttd. Tlie Bomani pave tbit etdour artiArially to 


from a mAnu»crlpt whkb ho bad Meen, entitled '' Josa. Fal- 






UMlr listr. S«B StSJtisl. KoblaarrcL do Luxu Romanoruin. 


con i» Anacreontici Luaui." 




1 


L. 


c 




MOORE'S WORKS. 



And there, if art «o for can go, 
Th* ingtiiiuoiis bliLih of boyhotxl show. 
While, for liis mouth — hut do, — in vain 
Would worlds its witching charm explain* 
Make ii the very seat* the throne. 
That EtcMjuenee would claim her own j i 
And let tlie lipfl, though silent, wear 
A lUe-look, aa if words were there. « 

Next thou his ivory neck must trace. 
Moulded with soft bat manly grace ; 
Fair as the neck of Paphia's hoy, 
Whcro P;iphift'a arms havt; hung tn joy. 
Give him the winged Hermes' haad,^ 
With which he wavea his snaky wand ; 
Let Bacchus the broad chest supply. 
And lj«da*8 sons the sinewy thigh ; 
While, through his whole transparent frame, 
Thou fihow^st the stiri-ings of that flame, 
Which kindles, when the first lo?c-sigh 
Steals from the heart, uncooscious why. 

But sure Ihy pencil^ though so bright. 
Is envious of the cyc*a delight. 
Or its en am our 'd touch would show 
The shoulder, fair m sunless snow. 



I TTkat Eioq mf i*ce wpitM Haim htr own ;] In Ihe originnl, 
OM tn th« pfi«edliig od«» PilbOt th« jtoddeu of pcrtiutloii, or 
eloqiieac*. It wM wortlij' of ihc delicate luik^lnitlon oT the 
j-.r^.ti I.. A^ff PwrtttMloo, vad gitc bor the IJps for her 
> arc hare ri:mlnj«d of a very InlfretdnK fraf« 

I rtciiit prcttcnred tiy the •cbuLiatt upon i^nd^r, 
uivl 4Ljpj,.i.Lxl to XxUiGg to « poem reUccting wHti tome le^ 
¥«>Ht> on Sirnonid4>«, irbo wiu tbc first, wo «ru told, that itTer 
mide ■ lilr«llit^ of Lii miuc : — 

Oil* m^yuft^ r«r' iX«,^*^i IhtSm* 
Kor y«t had fjUr Pertuojiioii fJu»ne 
Id iMver ■plcndoum, not bor own, 
» Amf Ut fhe i/pt, thangk tiltni, wt^r 
A tifip-hok^ m§ if wonts wert tA<rr.] In the oriffnat X«am 
ftvw^, Hm mlitfwi of Patrarcli " pKtU, eon lileiisio/' w b ich 
ia twrhapt the b«l ii»«tbod of female eloqtitiM^. 

• Givt hfm tkt vinged ft^rma* kattd, *|cO In ShaJupcftre't 
Cymlwllno there l» n tlmklor m«lhod of deter Ipt lo n :«- 

E— thlt li bit hand. 
Hli foot ni4»rcurl«l. hU tnartijJ thigh, 
Tli« brftwn* of llerculct. 
We fliid ft likewiie fo HamteC. Ixmg'Ppierra thinks th«t the 
hands t>r Mercurj are telcctcd bjr Aoacreon, on ftccotint of 
(be gracerul fttMiire* which were rappoMd to eharaicteriie 
Hit* irod of «loqiuiiC» i iNit Mercury wa« also the patron 
or tblevea, aad ouur Vtfhapt be prafMtl as m Uglit>Aiicerfd 
d^liy 
* Hill kM —Mbfor - 
Tteetkf fm^s^Hfr fHi>rtrait there ; ] The abrupt turn h«r«i 
Is tptHttNj, ifot r<*^o<rr« vnntt explanation. While the artist 
U pur>itiii)t iho portruit of Datbyllus. Anacroon, we inail 
■uppdM, turns round »iid •««• m picture of Apollo, which was 
iMliiided Ibr ea «ll«r it SuMie. He tbea loitAntly tellj this 
fMintet to caiee Ida work \ that tlil* picture will serve fur 
BithylUia \ m4 Ihet, wHud he goes to Samoa, he laajr make 
ftu Apolto of Um poitralt of the boj which he hed beguile 



Which DOW ID Tetliug shadow lies, 
llemov'd fhim all but Fancy^s eyes. 
Now, for his feet— but hold — forbear — 
I see the sun-god*s portrait there i * 
Why paint Btithyllus? when, in truth, 
There, in that god, thou st sketch "d the youth* 
Enough — let this bright forto bts mine, 
And send the boy to Samos' shrioe $ 
Fhtcbus shall then Bathyllus be, 
Bathyllus then, the deity \ 



ODB XVIIl.* 

Now the star of day is high. 

Fly, my girls, in pity fly, 

Bring me wine in brimming omi,^ 

Cool my lip, it bums, it bums I 

SuDn*d by die meridian fire, 

PanlJDg, langnid I expire. 

Give me all those humid flowers, "^ 

Drop them o'er my hrow in showers. 

Scarce a breathing ehaplet now 

Lives upon mf feverish brow ; 



*' Batbylloi Cuyi Madame DacIct) cfmld not be mora «le. 
^antly prali«d, and IbU one pa&uixe does him more boomtr 
th«n the statue^ however beautiful it might be, which Polf- 
crates roUcd to h\ta" 

A Ao elegant tranalatloQ of this ode, layi Dcfee, tuf be 
fMUid fn Rttmler't Ljr. Blumeolese, Ub. f . p. 40S. 

< Bring WK ipnstf lii h r H r u m m g urnt, fc] Ot\%, *iU9 mmten. 
The Amyttii wu ■ nethod of drmkin^ u«od ainoof the 
ThraciuLi. Thus Horace, " Threlcil viocat sraystide.** 
Mad. Dacter, Longeplerre, 4rc. &c. 

Parrhftilut. in hU ttveniy •sixth eplide (TheMur. CrUlc. 
vol, !.)• evplaJas the aTnyslU as a draught to be < 
wllboul drawinf br«4(h» ** uno faaustu.** A 
margio of this epistle of Psrrluiliia Mr>* 
et*o putabat,** but adds no roArakee. 

' Give mi ait thote httmid Jhteert, fr^ AoctmUng to the 
oriftnjil reading of this line, the poet tays, " Give me the 
flower of wtoe **— Date Aosculos I^kI, as It Is la the verskin 
of ELLu Afldreat ; and 

Deb porietJml del flare 

Dl quel almo e buoa ll<iuorc, 
ia Rognlar hu It, who supports the readbif . Tbe word 
At$t$ would uodoubcodly btv this applleatlou, whlcb Is 
somewhat limUar to lt» Import In Ike qftfram of Slmooklflt 
upon Sophocles t — 

£rCi«A»r s^fwi Y n|p <et i«r, wi«r smIm* 
and floe In the Latb) U frequently uppllcd tn the samemasmer 
— tliua Ceibrgus it called by Eonlus. nos talibatui pOfHdi, 
■oadBKiuB medulla. ** The immaculate dower of the people, 
and the tery marrow of persuulun/* Ste tb<>*e rersea rfted 
by Aulus Gellius, lib. xll., whVch Ckero praUed, and S«neca 
tbougtu ridiculous. 

Itut in the passefe before us^ If wo admit ieu>s(t, aoeordlfig 
to Fotier's conjecture, Ibe Kose l« Buflcteatlj ctav, witbeul 
harifif recourse to soeb nfl^acsfteot*. 



ODES OF ANACREON. 



19 



Mwerj dewy roie I wear 

Sbed* 'a* tear% and witbcn thtte, < 

fioi «o joo, mj baming hetrt, • 

What can nov relief impart ? 

Gbd brinuBJiig bowl, or flowret's dew. 

Cool the flame that •oon:hes jott? 



HfMk recline you, gentle maid, * 
Sved ia thia embowering shade ; 
Sweet the jonug, the modest tfee% 
RttlBed hf the ktsaing breeae { 



I dk U»r»t Mad vOken lAert^'i Tbere «r« iome br«UK 
li, hf Ajactfiaouf, upoo « garland, wbicli 1 ouuKiC 
•dB^W**: — 

K ik lie j^eodete coroIUe. 
ilf» vo« etiplti ; 
1 c t T T i c ta i toflu3ierH humor. 



Hi«i< 



Dkitc* o<» rorii ltd plurla hmc luctimm, 
Bj Celia'f arbour »ll th« Digltt 

Hmic bankid vnath^ the lover's tow ; 
And Wlj. M tik« nomliis light, 

Mf lotte tltfiU twine tli«« round her Urow. 
TiMo, If Qqpon ber bo«nm bri|tht 

SoBC db«p* t»l d<«« fthiill Cull froni thee, 
Tyi ^« ttMT «rt DOt dro^t of night, 
Baa Wma% of iorrow sbed by me I 
H t^ FOMi oi Mr. ShaHdaaX ** VnoooCh U thii 
cn*««4 grvne «i tlooe/* there b an idot rery ilnsularly 
[liBMHitriiT wtik Chte of Anferteoot : — 

Airf d^lM. Mcnf ffroe. in Lhy arch ioaj'it prvsrnre 

ftaie llagrrinf aro|>« uf the aljjlil-fallcD dew ; 
t^gt than ^l vn Itrr UMom of mow, and they'll lerre 
A* Mara of eny ■orrow rittruiied to yon^ 
' Mmi M fvK. tMy ^wffWMtf A^^rr, 4re.] The trontUion here 
la fMultvljr ^Ifetato and UnpMrioiicd ; hot the conunentator* 
h9f9 i^rflnot laa Mallmcaft hy a vartclf of readinfi lad 

* Tbv dii»Hn<low of thU bower b lo natural and animated. 
laal WB «b»Ml fivl » deyrre of eootoeu and rretfanett while 
mm fmtnm IL LtMiavfierre hai quoted (rmn the Dnt bc»a4i of 
, Uia lull Q* lot vfjilgram, a« tome what rciem* 



t4][*» mmi sat' «>•«• (T*v e>TV>» i. t* jmiAjxC 

Ceiae. » ' *' * -lowyptne 

f bai >^>*n retreat ; 

Aadic^' ' I icltc« incline 

The bru^lLmi; Lit irphjr to meet. 

that^ flonlnf, dlOUMl 
I a tl>lt<friog $f>TAj\ 
Bf hi hHok, aa the lra#cUcr miuea, 
ItdOlh* him to »)eep with my lay. 
• Jftftf rwlf^ yott; jTrtiZ/tf waW. ^e ] The Vatican MS. 
I ^(N*AA», «M«h render! the whole poem metainhoHCitt 
the reading of fiitbXX*** which 
llw a««i^ I t grace that PUto bimaeir baa 
llAtnwnilJifofbUboy Amaf. See the eplfram 
«r Ikli 9ha«a<i|>ltcr» wlilck 1 qoote on Ihe twenly-aecood ode. 



Sweet the little founts thut weep, 
Lulling ftoft the mind to «teep j 
Hark ! they whisper as they roll, 
Calni per«uajiion to the soul ; 
Tell me, ti^ll me* ii not this 
All a stilly scene of blisa ? 
Who, my girU would paaa it by f 
Sorely neither you nor L * 




ODB XX.» 

Onb day the Moses twin*d the hands 
Of iniknt Lore with flowery booda i 

There Ii another epIgrtuQ by thl« phflmofiheir, preterved 
la Iwiertiiu, which tumi upcxi the lame word, 

Niw it ^mMtm XmtMMttt l#v«{«r it fdt/ttreir. 
In lite thou wert my morning ttar, 

Bat tiaw that drjith hai «tol'n thy tight, 
Alu S thrni thinett dim and Car* 
Like Lhe pjUe beam thai wiicpt at nlghi. 
In the Vctierea Blyiaiburficai. uoder the bead of ** Allti" 
■$OQei," we And a number tA loch frigid conceiti uposk oamaa, 
•elected from the poei* of the middle ages. 

> If^, mg giri, teotM jtatt it bj^f 

Sureljf nfitier yow mor /.j The Unlsb giren to the picture 
hf thit »tmp1e exclamation rtt «> mw »im -rm^tXSt, Ci Inimi- 
table* Xvl A Frenth triuiilator layi on the puMge, " Thli 
ooncliuton appcar<Ml to me too trllllDg aifler luch a detcriplion, 
and I thought proper to add lomowhot to the itrengtb of the 
original." 

* The poel appean, In thEi graceful allegory, todeierlbe the 
foflenlng inHucnce wbkh poetry hold* oveir the mind, la 
making It peculiarly •uaceptihle to the IcnpreiKioni of beauty. 
In the follow lug epigram, bowerer, by the phlloaupher FUilo, 
{ Diug, Laert. llt». 3. ) tbe Mums are repretenled at dliar owing 
the InOuf nee of Love. 

*A Kiw^ir lAmrmurt^ n»imrM^ ncv A^D^incr 
'Vifimr\ q r»f £f*»r« i/tfttt i^$9Ki«»fdM4. 

" Yield to my gentle power. FAmaj<iafi maid* ; ** 

Thai (o tbe Muiet ipoke the Qaeen. ai Chartni — 
*' Or Lore tbalL flutter through yourclaialc sliadei. 

And make your grove tbe camp of Paphi^n arm* I ** 
" Ko/* tald the vlrglna of the tuneful bower. 

** We tcorn thine own and all thy urchln'i art ; 
Though Mari bu trembled at the Infant** |>Qwer, 

Hla than li polntle** u'er a Muje'i heart E" 
Thorc l« a »an»<HL by Benedetto Qit(dl,the tluiugtit of wblch 
wai luggi-'iled Uy Ihli ode. 

Scbirrjeat'A dj^ntra sdV aurce cblome A more 

Dell* altiia douna dvlla ¥ita mla i 
E lattta era II placer cb' el ne aenUa. 

Che non uip««< »* 'ol«» «*c'n»« fof»* 
Qiiando ©oco t»l annodar d iante II core, 

»j. che per fori* ancor conTlpn ch« illai 
Tal laccl sUa MUto ortliLi avla 

Del erefpo orin, per far»l ctirrno onorv. 
Oade oflVe InRn dal del drgna mercede* 
A ehl ffcloglle il flgUuol la bella dea 
Da t4inil nodi, In rb' eUa itretto U vede 



MOORE'S WORKa 



And to celestial Beauty gave 
The captive itifant for her sIhtc* 
Hifl mother comes, wtt!i many a toy, 
To raiuom her beloved boy i * 
Hui mother iaes, hut all in vam, — 
He ne*cr will leave his chains agnin. 
Even should they take his chains away. 
The little euptive still would stay. 
** If this/' he cries, " a bondage he. 
Oh, who could wish for liberty?" 



ODE XXt.4 

OiiSKHVE when mother earth Is dry, 
Siie drinks the droppings of the sky , 
And then the dewy cordial gives 
To cv'ry thirsty plant tbat lives. 



Ml el trinto ji due occhi 1* arme cfde t 

Bt t' RlTallchl Inckmo. Cllert'i) ; 

Cli« >' altrl '1 Klcvglk, egli a leifar »! rl«d^. 
Lo««, vaculerlng (tirougb tli« goUlco miuo 

or 1117 beloved*! hntr, 
Fowiid, at rach itvp, aurli iweet drlayi, 

Ttint raj»l he Ungct'd tln're. 
And lu>w, indcrtl^ wat Lpv«i to l^jr, 

Or bow Ida nrecdom 11ctd» 
Winn «T«rr rlnflot ww a ll#, 

A dMln, by Bcauejr twin**!. 
In vala to I«e1i her boy't rclcaiw 

Comcf Venn* from abovo t 
Ttmd mother, let thy eflbrti ccguir, 

Lovo'b now tlie tlare of Lovr. 
And, alKiuld we loo*^ hit fotde^ii chain, 
Tbe prrtwNMir would retura a^aln ! 

T0 ransom her Uhptd lioy ^ ^c.] In thi^ dnt Idyl «)f Moi- 
chua, Vi!iiu» Uiui jiroclaitai tbo rtward for ber fugitive 
cUUd : — 

Ow ^/u#«i T* ^hmpUL^ TV 1', * Ctrl, ««# ■ Xm* £|tir. 
On him, who ih* hatintJi of my Cnpid can ibow^ 
A kki of the tmdereit tUmp 1^1 bestow ; 
Uiit he, who can tiring back tb# urrMo In chAini, 
ShAtl ri«eelTe erm toineChlng mora iweirt for hli paint 
8i)bji»liicd to thlt od», w« And tn tha Vatican MS. tli« foj. 
lowing llncf, whicb apfwar to me to boait u Uttlateoac at 
nu'lre. and whkh arv moRt |<ro(Mbl/ tbe fDl«^r]H>latiot) of tlio 
Iraiticrlber:*^ 

3lb>«t^#«f nr tyx*** 

Km m^/rtf £{*« m.mr iTiur, 

■ Tho«e CTltk* wUii liaTP endravotired to thtttw the ehaloa nf 

pracbUin orer i|k« iplrli af this brAutlful irifl<», r«|iilf«. loo 

nvdl from Aixwr«*4«fitk phlltwophy. Amount olhert. Gall 

vary •aif^li'titly tblfjka iliat Uia ptutt u*n tl»e «fiUt»«t ^A«4»a* 



The vtpouxs, which at evening weep, 
Are beverage to the swelliag deep ; 
And when the rosy suo appe«n^ 
He drinks the occaa'a misty tean* 
The moon too quaWa ber paly itream 
Of lustre, from the sokr beam* 
Then, hence wilb all your sober thinking! 
Since Nature's holy law is drinking ; 
ril mukc the laws of nature mine, 
And pledge the urni verse in wiue« 



ODE XXII. 
TffE Phrygian rock, thut braveitlie 
Was once a weeping matron's form ; ^ 
And Progue, hapless, frantic maid, 
Is now a swallow in the shade. 



t»aeaute black cariih abtorbt mottturo more^jutckly than 117 
mher { and accordingly ho lndy|ge« U4 with an cmperimcnt^ 
dl«<]u1a1tlon on th« tubject — Sec GalT$ notM. 

One of the Capilufd hai (mlut«d thlt ode, In an epllapb on 
a drunkard : ■— 

Uum rUi ttne Sue blbl, &lc Imbrirer arciu 

Sic tellua pkuriMM aota paruato bibk. 
Sic IxIbU auldut foatei et fluantna Pootua* 

81c temper titlrai Sol marla baiuiC oquu. 
Ka t« IgUuT jactea plut me, SUone, bibbaa ; 
Et mlhl da vktaa tu quoque, Baccha, ■"fiWH- 

llirpoLTTDs CanLr^tTtL 
Wlilla life was mine, the iittl« hour 

In drinking <tUI unvaried Otw; 
I drank at earth imblbps the tbower* 
Ur at the raliibuw drinki the dew; 
At ficean quaffs the rtTcri up. 

Or Authing tun Inhntct the tea : 
SUenut trrmblod at my cup. 
And BAcchuf wai outdone by me 1 
I cannot ntnlt cltlQH; thote rnnafkahle Unei of Sliaka|i«an», 
where tlie though t« of the ode beftire ua are fkrcaarved wHb 
•uch ttrlktnf ilmUltude : 

ni «itainple you with Ihletery. 
The fun't a ihlef. and with hU grr^t aliraeilon 
Ilobt tlie TatI t<^a. The moon't an arrant llilef, 
And her pale (Ire the inatcbet Iron tha aim. 
The tea'i a thtef, whote liq,qy itirge rwtolTM 
The mouodt Into talt toan. The aartb'i a tblef. 
That fecdt, and breedt by a compottttre alol'n 
From gvsrral excrementi. 

Tt'mom qf Atknu, act Iv. m.i* 

* - a leeepmg mtarom'»,fifrmj] Kiobe. — OgiWie, In bit 
Ettay oti the Lyric Poetry of tba Ancients, lo raaarkUg upon 
Ibe Oilet of AnacreoQ, tayi, ** la aonte of bit plecea there It 
•XMberani^ and rrrti wUdDeaa of bnagliialioii ) In that par-* 
liralarly, which It addrotaed lo a young girU wlwre be withea 
attemately to be tramfonned to a mirror, a coat, a ti raun. a 
bracelet, and a pair of thoet, for tha difTercnt purpotea wKkb 
hc^ r^clti t : thlt I5 mere »pi>rt atid nantonneftL" 

It li the wantonticaa, howerer, of a terjr graceful Mitae ; 
** lutllt am abf liter." The cocnpllmeat of thlt ode It e»iul*ltely 
dnhcate, Jui4 to tiugular for the perkid In wblcb Anaereuo 
Hired, when the scale of lov« had not yet t»ecii gT«diiatod btlo 



ODES OF ANACREON. 



21 



Oh I that t mirror's form were mine. 
Thai I might catch that smile di?ioe ; 
And Like my own fond fujicj be, 
Beflectiiig thee, and only thee; 
Or coaM I be the robe which holds 
Tliat gmcefiil form withio lU folds; 
Or, tnra'd into a fbuntaiD, lave 
Thj beanties in my ciTelbg wave. 
Would I weiv perfhme for thy hair, 
To breafhe my soul id fragrance there; 
Or. better itilU the zone, that lies 
Close to thy breast, and feels its sighs ! > 
Or er'a those eoTious pearls thtit show 
80 fiundy round (hat neck of j^dow — 
Tes, I would he a happy grm, 
Like them to hang, to fade like them. 
What more would thy Anacreon bt? 
Ohf Boy thing thai touches ihce; 



iM Ks Dttle prograsalf e refiocmcnti, t)i4t U wo were locllneil 
•» fiwolMD tbe aolbentidty of the poem, «e ibouM And a 
wmA ■win pljiulbW argamtnt in the ftUate% of modem gal> 
111 I J wttUb II be«rt, tluo In anj of thoae futldJoui conJ«c- 
tBTM wpvm widcftt toa* eomnMntatort have prc«udi«d *o fmr. 
I It cf^vfMU. Slid De Pauw proaouocef U to be 
Tt and BarnH refer ui to t«Tera] Emita- 
, ftom whicJt 1 fha.ll tm\j B^Aixi the foUowlng 
^IcraA of Dioajvliu :>- 

1 «Uh I could like »«pliyr itraJi 

To wanton oVr tliy mMy vfit ; 
Awl that* woutdit ope iljjr buftom-T«ll, 

and Uke me pantinf to thy briuut ! 
I wiiii 1 niiifbt « roftC'bud grow, 

iknd Ibon woiUdit cull me (mm the bcmrr, 
Tto plifis me on tluit breast of inuw, 

WlMre t thould bloom, a wlutrj 0ower. 
1 wltb I were the lilj'a leaf« 

To fSMle ufion ttMt bosom warm, 
Oeolfnt to wither, pale and brier, 

The trophy of thy TaJrer form { 

f edd, Ibat 71ato hs* e«.pre»«<d u UticiM n vi hb In a 
p i teti i ul br Laertiiu : 

O f wei r , ie e«AAM» tttputfm i#r rt ^Airw. 
TO rra.L«» 
WI17 doct IhoQ gnxe upoo the iky ? 

C3II I that 1 were that *|iarigl«Hl aphere, 
And weery itar thould be an D}-e. 

To wonder on tfay beduties here i 

tJiii epigram of ttinr divtu# |ihilo»ophcr, tii 

fioT bU Terwft on CrUioj aiid l 'harlnuj. See 

V where be alio adduce* the eiaxnple of Anacreoo ; 

«t ajji udi** et *i vot ignoralit, Apud Graecoi 



l^tUy btmeelf 



Nay, sandiilft for those airy feet — 
Ev'u to be trod by them were sweet! « 



t Or, ktUft JKM9, tk* zomin that Utt, 

r He 1% brtmft mud fetU *U tffA^/] ThU rmvm w» 
■A, or bend, callod Iff the Itomant fafda tnd fttrojihliun. 



ODE XXIII.* 
I OFTEN wish this languid lyre. 
This warbler of my soul's desire, 
Could raise the breath of song sublime, 
To men of fame, in former time. 
But when the soaring ihtnoe I try, 
Akiug the chords my utimbers di«r, 
And whisper, with dissolTing tone, 
" Our sighs are given to lore alone!" 
Indignant ut the feeble lay, 
I tore the panting chords away, 
Attun'd them to a nobler swell. 
And struck again the breathing shell; 



which the women wore fur the purpoao of rcttrainlng the 
•xabemice of the boeom. Vide FoUim^ Ooomait. Thus 
Martial:. 

Faicli crcicentei domtnic compeice pA|ii]l«j. 
The women of Greece not only wore titii tr*De, but ccm- 
dcmned Ihemtelvct lo futlnK. nnd mmle ii»p of rert*lri dr ugs 
AFid powdtTA fur the name imrpoj^". To the»e 'txpfdloLiLc Ibt^y 
were comiieltcd« la coiuirqiience oftbi'if fnelcgMOt faiihion of 
coiupreiiing the waJAt luto .% rcry niirrow rompusf, whUh oe- 
cftftMrily caused an eitrcti^lve tumJJii/ In the badom. See 
Dioftcoride«« lib. v. 

* Xejf. tamfaii/or tko$e airjffert-^ 

Ew'n tu be tr&d by them ttfre tweet i] The lophkit rbllot- 
tratuft, ia i>ne of hU love-letLeri, hai tiorrowed thl» tbnught ; 
m mitTH 9*itt, w uttXXPt O^tttit^H, v rftrn>lmifA*fi i>w mm 
fitMMm^i*( !«■ rmTisnt* pn, — *" Oh lori'ly feet t oh mceUent 
beauty ! oh ] tbrke happy and bk'tied thould I br^ \{ you 
would but tread on tne S " In Shakipeare, Itomeo dettro* to 
be e glove : — 

Oh ! that T wore a glove upon that hand. 
That i might klai that cheek 1 
And, In hit Fuiionalu Pllifrltn, we meet with ati Idcift lome- 
wliat like that of the thirltenth line : - 

Ue, fpjing her, br>mjc'd bn, where at he ttood, 
•* O Jove V* quoth ihe, " wiij was not la flood?" 
In Burton'f AnAttitiiy of MelaiichoTy, thut whimilcaJ far- 
TKg'a of "" ttll auirh re-aillng 04 woi never read/' we flndatranu 
la^tJoTi of ihli ode tnade before ISSi. — " Etigllihed by Mr. 
B. Hull day, in bki Technof. act t KCfieT," 

> Acco rd kng to Ih e ordwr in wh kb Ihe odct mf e uiuilly placed , 
tbliA (BiA* A.«yui AT{i<J«r) form* Ihe ftfit of thr icriei ; and 
li thought to be peeulldrly detlgtiecl sa an introdiicLiun lo ihe 
re»t. It howcTCr charnrterl*e» ihu geului of the TeUn but 
yery inadequnlely, bj wSne, the hiirdcn of hit iiyt, !■ not eveu 
mentioned hi It : 

■ cum multo Venerem. confundero mcro 
Precepit Lyricl Tela Mu»a aenit. Otro. 

The twenty- alxlh Ode, Hu fu* ^*yuf rm BnCttt, might, with 
jiut BJt much propriety, be plocpd at the head of hi* magM. 

Wc find the at-utimcut of the otic before ui ftipresaed by 
Bion with niuth limplkity in hii foorih WyL The above 
tranilatlon li, perh^ipt, too pardphrattictil ; but the ode hal 
hceo to frequently tranaluted, that 1 could notoi}i(?rwl*oaro{d 
tH tenet* aiid repetition. 



^ 



22 



MOORE'S WORKS- 



In all the glow of epic fire, ' 
To Hercules I wmke the lyre,^ 
But still itfl fiunting siglis repeat^ 
** The talc of love alone is sweet!" 
Then fare thee weli^ seductive dreanii 
That mad^st me follow Glory^s theme; 
For thou mjr lyre, and thou my heart. 
Shall never more in spirit part ; 
And all that one has felt &o well 
The other shall ai sweetly telU 



ODEXXtV.* 
To all that breathe ihe air of bcsven, 
Some boon of strength has Nature given* 
In forming the roxyestic bull, 
She fenced with wreathed horns his skull j 
A hoof of strength she lent the stecd^ 
And wing'd thif timorous bare with speed. 
She gave the lion fkngs of terror, 
And, o'er the ocean^s crystal mirror, 
Taught the unnuraber'd scaly throng 
To trace their 1 liquid path along; 
While ibr the umbrage of the grove, 
She pltim*d the warbling world of lo"?e. 

1 In all the glotp t^ epic fire, 

7b HercutfM I vttk* Uu lfre.\ Mndune DAd«r g«ner«lljf 
traiitlftt«» Xvfii into a lutu, whfcti 1 l>cUcre U J{i«cctiriil(<. 
*' D'expUquer ULfre dMBUckcni {tayt M. SorrI) fiit ud luth, 
e'«it Icnorer la diObreoee qu'll j a eat re cm deux Instrument 
de mudque/'— UfA/ito^TiM Fntn^te, 

t But *till itt fainting iig/U repeat, 

*' Tke tale qfio^ alone u $teeetl "} Tbe vord mitT»$m4i In 
tli« original, tniy Iroplj that kind of miulcaJ dialogue prac. 
tUcd bj the aiKienla, la whkb the lyre wa« mada to rcipond 
to the quef^tioiu propOMd bj Ibe linger. Thii wai a ine«bod 
which Sappho u««d. aa we are told by Hermogeocf ; " irm* 
fi|« Awfsf ic»ni 2««f«, mmi irmf mvr^ mw»Mit$ifTmi.'^ ^Jl*t$ 

* Haaif StiqiiMm faa« itnitated the ldc« or thb ode In the 
fullowtnf IhMi oTooe at hii p^mi :^ 
Frorlfta dat cunctii Natura animantibui ariDA, 

Et itia roBtiilficuin pouidel arma fiirn'tu, 
UogulAquc ut der^^ndit c^qtiiira. atquc utcomua tnunim, 

Armata eit formA fcemiua pukbra «uA. 

And the lanafl thought occurt Id th-a«« ttnef« ipokea bf 
I In Paftor Fido : 



Cod not U bel]«uA 

Ch* i tNsrta uottra ooel pvuprlm, eaam 

1a roru del J«oii«, 

E ringrfno de 1* htioiBO. 

The Uoo bouti hli aatice powen. 

Add lordly roan bt« itrennth of mtmii 
But beauty*! charm It lolcly our*, 

Peculiar boon, by lleav'n aatiga'd. 

*' Ad ekfaot e\|»Uc«tIoa of lb* beauUei of thlf ode {tayi 
Dcffcn) laay tie found In Grloftia an den Anmerk. (iber dulifs 
Odea dot Aoakr." 

* n mam f*r f aw, im tk^H proud Aour, 

Tkt iMMm qf imiellcctu^ power.} la ipj fint atteinpt (o 



To man she gave, in that proud hoar, 
The boon of iutellectuiLl power.* 
Thcii| what, oh woman^ vhat, for thee. 
Was left in Nature's treasury? 
She gave thee beauty— mightier far 
Than all the pomp and power of war.* 
Nor steel, nor Ere itself hath power 
Like womau in her conquering hour. 
Be thou hut fair, mankind adore thee. 
Smile, imd a world is weak before thee!* 



ODE XXV.y 

Once in each reTolving year, 
Gentle hirdl wo fiod thee here. 
When Nature wean her ffummer-Teit, 
Thou com'gt to weave thy ilmple nestj 
But when the chilling winter lowers, 
A^ttin thou seek'st the genial bowera 
Of Memphis, or the shores of Nile, 
IVhere sunny hours for ever amile. 
And thus thy pinion rests and rovea,^ — 
Alaa ! unlike the swarm of Loves, 
That brood within this haplesi breast, 
And never, never change their nest!* 

tnuulalff thii od«, T bad tntertirv'Lcd ^tni/im^ with Baxter and 
BarTi«i, a« Iniplylng^ courage and military 9lrtu«; Imt t do 
not thtoJi that ihe galLantr}- of the 14e« fudbrt t^ tlw lfl»|KPrt 
wbtcb I bavo now glvan to IL For, vhy nevd we coiuldrr 
ChU pouMMloD of wlidqiKi U tKrlufttre ? and in truth, at th« 
dcflgn of Anocmmli to tttimato tb« trcaaure of beauty, above 
aU the reiC wlilcb Nature hu dlitrlbaiod, k U pcrbap* errn 
refining up^m tbe delicacy of Ibe complliD«nt, to prefer the 
rwliauce of Teniale charmt lo tht cotd llltmiliijitiora of witdom 
and prudence ; and to ihink tbat wamen't ejct are 

-^ — . the b<K)lu. the acadrmle^t. 

From whi*nco doth iprlng tbe true Promeibca& Are. 

S She garr thee beauty — mtfihtier/ar 

ThamtitikepQmpamlpotrerqftrar.] Tliwi AcUdleaTatliiii 
^- mtt>J.H «{tmfW n i|atr *, n /3iX«bf , aci ttm v^m affBmXiMm ut vw 

wound* more awlHtlf than ibe arrov^ and paiitm ClirdOBb Uie 
eje to the very ftoul ; for tbe eye b tbe Intet bo iW vounda of 
lore,'* 

> Be OUm but fair, mantinft adure tkee. 

Smite, and a trortd it vrak tte/^trt thee /} Lomceplorre*! r«' 
mark bere la lageDfout :^'* The Romani/* aayi be* " wer* 
to eanrln<ed of tbe power of beautf « tt>^*t they ut<»l a word 
Imptf log itreDgth tn ihe place of tlie epithet beauUruL TIkttt 
Ptautui, aet ». tee&e % Bacelikl. 

SM B«cehU vttom fbrtli tlM ? laa. 

* Fortii. Id ett formoka,* aay Serrltu aod Nocilut.** 

t We liat e bvre another ode addreauid to tli« awallow. Al- 
twrtl h** Irattoted both In out poei 

Percb* b plaogm al tiM c 
RocidfDclla Importunai Ac. 

■ AUu I umlike the itearm qf Lovee, 

That brood wilhin thii kapletM breast. 

And newer ^ newer dkange tJkeir ne»t f \ Tbm Lo»e fa repre- 
■entcd a« a bird, in asi epigram died b^ Longeplerrv from tha 
AntbologU : — > 







ODES OF ANACREON. 23 








Nor naTal arms, nor mailed steed. 


H TWjfizl]ieirMBddw«miigbei«; 


Have made this Tanquish'd boaakn Meed ; 




^M Aad MBM Hieir iidknt plmnagie try. 


No — *twas from eyes of liquid blue. 




^H And on m tender vinglet flj; 


A host of qniTer^d Cupids flew ; 




^H Wliile in tbe ilidl, impregn'd with fires, 


And now my heart all bleeding li^ 






Beneath that anny of the f^ret I 










^^^^^ And aome tn lbfmle«s embryo sleeping. 






^^^^M Tbm paopledy Eke the remaX grore^ 






^^^^B Iff Wtaaft nsounds with wnrbting LoTCf ; 


ODE XXVIT.> 




^^^H Oat nzdim imps the other^s feather, 
^^^^B Then tvin-desires they wing together. 


Ws read the tying courser's name 
Upon his side, in marks of flame ; 
And, by their turbon'd brows ajone. 
The warriors of the East are known. 




^^^H And &et si they Ihos take their filght, 
^^^^r SaSl other urchins spring to light. 




^H Bot k there then no kindlj art, 
^^M To chase th4*se Cupids from my heart; 


Bat in the loTer'JB glowing eyea, 
The inlet to his bosom lies ;^ 




^^B Ah, no! I fear, in Kadne^ fear^ 
^H Thej will for ever nestle here t 


Through them we see the smidt ialnt mark, 
Where Lore has dropped his bnnung quu-k ! 


i 


^ ODE XXV L» ' 


ODE XXV11L> 




^H TsT harp ms J sing of Troy*!» xitajnis, 


As, by his Lemnion fbrge*s flame. 


J 


^H Or tell the tale of Theban arms ; 


The husband of the Papblon dame 1 


■ 


^^M With other wars tny song shall burn. 


Moulded the glowing steel, to form . 1 


■ 


^^M For other woaads my harp shall mourn. 


Arrows for Cupid, thrilling warm ; 






T was not the crested warrior's dart. 


And Ycuus, as he plied his art, 






Thai drank the current of my heart ; 


Shed honey round each new-made dart. 






Mm ^M lw«*/uv w mtmm itx«r ifwrfr. 


Iml few have turned the thovirht fo natnnUly a* Anaereota, 






Oh^s Ic ipr>« wtitutf «• xXmtf litMfif §tfu. 


Boniard glres lo the ejrei of hU mlitreu " un pattt camp 






(Mr imi,m §try^ tmm/tfunr, mXX" vr* ^tiftm 


d'amouri." 








> Tbti ode foroii a part of the precpdlng in the Vatican MS., 








but I hare coDforoH-d to the edition* Ln tranilating them s»- 








parateli. 






*n« Love that munouri In mjr breiui* 


*► Compare with thii i*aj% Degen) the poem of Rxmler 






And wuktB me abed ibe tecrrc testf t 


Wahrsekhen der Ltebe, in Lyr. BlumeuleM, lib. It. p,313/* 






yor daj nor olglit 1117 soul b«th rc&t. 


* Bvi m fh* ltwr*i gknrMf e^rt. 






For &»fbt and daf hit tolee 1 hear. 


The intet to kit hotom lit* ;] *' We cannot fee tnto the 






A wo«iod vithJQ mf h«vt 1 find, 


tieartt'* vaj% Madnao Dsder. But the lover 9in«ircri — 






Aod oil 1 'tU ftlain wherv Lov« hu brcn ; 
r«>r Ailt be iMTM A wOTtDd behind* 


n cor ne gtl occhl et De b l^ronLe bo »critto. 






Sodi Si irUhio mj bean li teen. 


Bl, La Fotte hu giren the Tollowlng linu. ai ealarg Lag ou 






<>It. ijtrd of Le^e t with long to dnw. 


the thought of AnAcreoci : — 






MAkr ooc my mkiI the iM»t of pain ; 


Lonque je volt on unant. 






Buc. \wt the vtog vhtch brou^Ut thee herv. 


tl cache «n TsiD ton lounneDt, 






Id pity vaik th«« bence agala ! 


Al le trsblr lout codi^ire, 






1 « The G«riiiaii poet V» ku Imlratcd tbti ode. Cofiip«f« 


8a laafinmr, •on embarrai. 






■Iw WeUM Sebert. Uodcr, lib. bL. d«f Soidat.^ Gail. 


Tout ce qu'il petit Iklre ou dire, 






Dfwu 


Mtew ce qu'il oe dit paf . 






• Jf^ — *hpatfram e^ft &f U^d tluf 


In Tain the iover triet to Tell 






A ioaf iffmhtr'4 Cupids Jttw |] Loftgi'plerre bo* quiHird 


The flame that In liU bocom lie^ ; 






y«ft of an epflfram fnxn the icrmtb book of ihc Anibologia, 


Hit choeki* confiuton tell* the tnle, 






«lilA hn a ftaacj tomciblns like thl«. 


We read ii In hi* languid eye* : 






Ov ^ AiXi^^Wt 


Aod while hii word« the heart hctrajr. 








HU lilcnce ipeakt ct'd more than thej. 






Af«h«r Lo^ I tbomsh illiy crwpin^t 


* Thl* ode 1« referred to bj Li M«)the te Vayer. whn, 1 






Well 1 kJM»« »her« Ibou dtMt tin ; 


(leliete, wa* the author of that curloUf little work, called 






1 M« tbee throv«ti th« curUln peeping, 


'" Hexmncrun Ruttique." He makes tiio of this, at welt m 






That frinfet Zcnopliclia't *rye. 


Ibe llilrty-aflh, In hti Ingenlinii hut Indelicatci explanation of 




( 




Hnmer*a Care of the Nf mpbi, — Joumee Quatri&me. 




1 




J 


1 



24 



MOORE'S WORKa 



Wblle Love, at hand, to finish all, 

Tipp*d every arrow *« point t* lib gall i ' 

It chanc'd the Lord of Battles cjuiie 

To visit that deep cave of t1aine» 

*Twii from tlie miiks of war he niah'd 

Hi» spear with many a life -drop blusli'd { 

He saw the fiery darts* aad smird 

ContemptuouB at tl*e archtT-chiid. 

" ^^liat ! " said the tirehin» ** dost thon mmllc ? 

Here, hold this little dart awhile. 

And thou wilt Bud, though swift of flight, 

My holts are not so feathery lighL" 

Mara took the shaft — and, oh, thy look. 
Sweet Venus, when the sliaJl he took I — 
Sighing, he felt the urchin's art, 
And cried, in agony of heart, 
" It ii not light — I gink with pain I 
Xake — take thy arrow hack agaiu»" 
" No," said the child, " it nin^t not he ; 
That little dart waa made for thee t " 

* IrVkite Love, at hand, tojtnuk ntf, 

Ttpp^d riftrff arrow' $ point trith gatt j] Th ui Pftudkii : — 
LulMintur g^mlni fotiHf*, hie iltitclt, omtni* 
Alter, d tnfutU corrumj3lt mt-Ui ven^nU, 
Unde CupldluFU armavit ta\,mn uiglttu. 
In Cjrprui' )«le two rippling FountAln* rull. 
And one with honof flov*. And one witb gt.l\ ; 
tn thete, if we mar take th« UUc rrotn fame, 
The fao of Venu* dlpi bit dnni of Ilame. 
Stf« Akiatui, cml>lvia 9i., on th« rlo4« con nee I j qui wli.1ch 
»ub»lit« lietweon iweeti and biU«*ri. " Apca ideo punimnt 
(M/ii PetroniujiK quUi ubi dkiioe, ll)i el aclduim iiivpn|ie«." 

Th© alidg^cal deicri[>(liin of Cupid'i emptoimeni. la 
Hotace, nwj tI« vLth thli txTfon* ni In i^incj, Uiuiif h not In 
dtfilcacj J — 

^ fc^nii H Cuptda 

Sflfnper ardentei arueni tafiltM 
Cot« cmnoti. 
And Gujikl, tharptftilnf all hit fiery diarti. 
Upon a whetitona itaf n'd with blood of hdarti. 
Utamdm bat borrowed Ihli, butliai tonicwbit utiUoed Die 
init> hf tiM ooiUitoii of tbt cfiltliat " ctqmiU.*' 

FaUor ao ardeut«« auruebat cot* ugltlat ? Elef . 1. 
3 YtM—to9imgi$itpuinfuithrm^ 

4tt^ not t« l«Pt mart paif\fut ttitt i Jfr,] The fallowing 
Atiaerrfintlc. addrMMd by Mi*n«ts to DaqIiM Huet, mfori^i^ 
wkth much gracw, *>>« ** iwPC<?«ity of loylnif : " — 

Hftt n*Tf«f Atfvii^A 'Tirrw*. 
0iXMi^»i « fnMf I 

T* TWHB nu la^tf t*4#«#»i 

Tj >' •#«• j^rwr' Ff«^*« t 
As*»t| !««» i#T« ^vjciiff * 

• Thl* UiH la k«rm«d fh>n » •H«riiBi ^ A^M* of Mlylna vMA 




ODE XXIX. 

Yes — toring is a painful thrill, 

And not to love more puinful sliU j • 

But oh, it is the worst of pain, 

To love and not be lov'd again I 

Affcctioo now has fled from earth* 

Kor fire of geoius, nohle birth, 

Nor heavenly virtue, eao beguile 

Proti} beauty's cheek one faTotuiog smile. 

Gold is the woman^s only theme. 

Gold ia the woman's only dream. 

Oh I never be that wretch forgiven — 

Forgive him not, iodlgnnnt heaven ! 

Whose grovelling eyefl could first adore, 

Whose heart could pant for sordid ore. 

Since that devoted thirst began, 

Mmm has forgot to feel for man ; 

The pulse of social life is dead, 

And all its fonder feelings fled t 

War too has ffuUied Nature's charma, 

For gold provokes the world to arms : 

KmrmMUfUtmn: «i«4{ii. 

4i]ll*jbU:r iin, 'Tlrrt, 

A)i««r )i JUtlif Mvtv 
*A^<Mif Ifvncr itfM0f 

Tfaoti i of tuitf^ful barili tiu* ftnt. 
Thou i bj «1i th« Clriirc-a nurst ; 
Friend I earti otiier n:i«iid aborre. 
Come with mr, nnd Irum to iuvir. 
Loving ii « ftlmpie lort^t 
Grater imeo have learn *d Iwfore ; 
May, Um boiAt of formv r affti, 
WUctt of ilu! wiaejt i^ige*, 
Sophroniiciu* prudent son, 
\^'ai liy iove'i liTtution wmu 
Oh I bow hwiTjr iife wouM nift¥<». 
If we knew not how to tope I 
hQ^e'% a whrtMiont? to tlic mind \ 
Tbui 'U* polntrd, thuJ rr fined. 
When th^ Muf dojeded il«>*, 
Lore cab waft ft to the %k\t% ; 
Wiien tn languor tteept tltr brart, 
LoTt can wake It with hb diirt; 
Wb«fi the mind \» dutt atid dark, 
Lmrecan iight It with hit ip^rk I 
Come, oh I corae then^ Ir-t ut haata 
Aii the hliit of lot* to taste \ 
Let Ui love Ijoth night asid day, 
Let tia lote our 1 1 ret away I 
Aad when heartt, frmn lorltif fr«v, 
{ If Indeed such hcarfa there be J 
Frown uprm our fen tie lUpnc, 
And the tweet delaflon blume i 
Thit ahall bo mjr only < 
(CouliJ I, coutd I wtib ( 
May they ne'er the i 
Of the tmlle frami llpi vt love I 



I 
J 




^^^^^^^T^^w 


1 ODES OF ANACREON. 25 




And oh ! tJsc wofsi of all its arfx. 




It reads isimder lortng hearts 


ODE XXXt.3 

Aem'd with hyacintliine rod, 
(Arms enoogh for such a god,) 
Cupid bade me wing my pace. 








And try with him the rapid race. 




ODB XXX.* 


O'er many a torrent, wild and deep, 
By tangled brake and pendent sleep, 




*TwA0 in A iDockiiig dream of ntght — 


With weary foot I panting flew, 




I fkacied I had wmgt as light 


Till my brow dropped with chilly dew* 5 




As a jooog bird^s, and fiew .is ficet ; 


And now my soul, exhausted, dyifig. 




While Lore, around Trhosc b^nateoits fet.% 


To my lip was faintly flying ; * 




1 kaew not vhT, hung chains of lead^ 


And now I thought the f^park had fled, 




Puraned me, ai I trembliag fled ; 


Wbt*n Cupid bover'ii oVr my head. 




And, atrange to saj, va awiil as though t. 


And fiLuning light his breezy pinion. 




Sfrite of mj phuoiis, I was caught \ 


Rescued my soul from death's dominion ; ^ 




'Wfaai does the wantoo Fancy mean 


Then siiid, in accenu half- reproving, 




By such a strange, illuflve scene ? 


" Why hast thou been a foe to loving ? ** 




I fioir she whispers to my breast. 






Thai yooy sweet maid, hare stol'n its re«t ; 








That though m j fancy, for a whjJe^ 






Hath hung on many a woman's sratle. 


ODE KXXIL« 




I won diaaolr^d ^ch passing row. 


Strf.w me a fragrant btd of leaves. 




And ne'er was canght by lore till now 1 


Where lotus with the myrtle weares ; 




* BSrms tesghw* from thr« nlU-gorj. that our poet ntifrted 


* Till frtjf bmu> dropp'd ttith tkillj^ dfu*.] t have followed 




vcvf In* la Ufe. Bm 1 M« noting in the od« which oUudn 


tbow who read ntft* id^Af for mi^tt Hf^t ; the rorracr if 






p«rtl]r authodfted by th« MS. which read* xttfir fifm. 




mA I a«rw In tbe ofifnion of Hadaioe Dader, In her life of 


* And now my foul^ e^kauiWd, djfMgt 




la* focf. ca« iM ra alwajs tao fond of pt«uure to iciart7. 


Tttmyiip tpaa faititiy JtpiHg i 4r.] In the orfginAl, he 




1 > Tha dMlgii of Ibit little Action Is tu liitljnAte. thAt much 


safi, hit heart dew to hu no*** ; liut uiir majjner muru nutu- 




1 ^mtm pia «ttcndi isunuitritlty than can tver recult from 


r«lly tr!m»feri it to the lip*. Sucti it th* tOect that I'lrtto 




ft tlwtiiidaml totpPeteiocK of loye> LoofcpfnTe hju quoted «n 


telli ui ho Tett Croin a kl»i, in a dl«tk-h quoted hj Auliu 




^L. , ' mOoA cpi«nBB which htmn uxme limllitudi; Ui thU ode : - 


OeUliu 




^^' Lecto eooijiotilitt, «lx prfma tiltmlU nrvtlj 


Tfi» 4'^x^^ Aymii^m fiA**. lev x^Xftm ifxt*. 




CvprhaiQt tt lomno lcnnln« victa dabam ; 


Hkd* y*^ i4 rXnu^n m< IisIm^^^ii^ 




Ctirn me tffvus Amor prrn«um, tur«timqiie capiUis 


Whrne't'r Ihy nccUrM kUi I st^i, 




C«rttat, et lj£«nun pervlgUar^ jub«t. 


And drink tliy hreathi, In Irancc divine. 






My ftoul ihrn flutter* to mj iip. 




^eiiu to, ioliu, dure jacere pote« ^ 


Ueadj in fly and taX% with thine. 




Omna liar topniio, oultum Hvr expodla. 


Aului Gclliui< lubjolpa a paraphraje of tiiii eptirram, in 




* Vwm prcfarov naae ire piget ; ninumquc redire 
Pvalttt i ct podtM- est lUre ria au^dia, 


which we And a number of tho»e mignarditet of ex.pre»fcion, 
irbitii taskxVi, the eHemination oi^ the Ludn t4Dtiia^. 






* Andfannitg h'^hi hit trfi'z.tf pinion. 




fit voiacruni cantus, turbtique Ada coiiuni. 


RtscHcd tut/ foui from dca(h'» dominion ;] " Tbe fnrliltr 






with which Cupid recoven him. aifrninca that the >wcrt« of 




El ae^nor hnperiuin, uere Cuptdo, cuuni. 


love make ui i-asily forget a.ny lolicltudes wbieh he may 




Upoo tu/ coitch 1 bj» si olght proroujid, 


ooeaiioa.'"^ La Fotu* 






* We here have the poet, in hii true tltribiilpa. ritlini'ni 




I What Cof^ CUM and match d me from mf bed. 


Dprm myrtlct, with CupliI Tor t^ii cwp-hicAter. S^mc Inter- 




Aad ftorcM Bit Qiaor « vfiarT way to tread. 


pretert hare ruined tiie pUrture by miiiiing ll^tt; the tuime of 




** Wfast r (aitd the fod) »ball fou, whote voiri are knowD 


hit f1ate> None but Lotb »bouid (ili thf? j^nblei of Anncreon. 




WlM» lo»tt ao man J njmpht, thiu sleep ftlone > '* 


Sappho, in one of her fragmc'nlft, hai a««iigned thiA offiie to 




t rie* lad fellow ; «U the night I itray. 


Yenui. KxQtf Euvit^ xi^"^"-*"'" *' *b\iMimwn kQ^»n rvfAjM- 




UoalMiasr'd, tremhllnr, douUful of wj waf ; 


fiuyfdMfn ^mXi^Jin »i«T«f tinx.***** rmrmwt rti tntf^Mf iftrnt 




"naeloff «kh naked foot the pAlnfctl trJick. 


f^timrvi 




Loch to procaad, yet teu-ful to go bjuk. 


Which may be tbu* paraphrased : — 




Yet, at that hour, when Nature ic«mi inlerr'd, 


Hither, Venui, queen orkij;»ef. 




KoT wrhllaf bird*, our lowing Oodu are Heard, 


Tbi» fiiall be the night nf bliwes ; 




1. 1 alone, e f^tif e from reft. 


Thli the nigiit, to (VientUbip dear. 




Frnmltm mj gyiJe, and mtdnttt in mj liroait, 


Thou sha.it ij>e our Hebe here* 




Wander the world around, unknowing where, 


Fiii the goidmi bri miner high. 




Thft4ls*« of love, tbe ticUm of d««piilr ! 


Let it flparlLle like tbJne eye ; 




1^ 


* 


^ 



26 



MOORE'S WORKS. 



And while in Iuxnry*ii dream I sink. 
Let mc Lhc balm of Bacchus drink 1 
In this &wcct hour of revelry 
Young LovL* shall my attendant be — 
Drest for the task, with tunic round 
His snowy neck and shoulders bound, 
Himself shall hover by oiy side, 
And minister the racy tide ! 

Ob, swift aa whe^^b that kindling roll, 
Our life is hurryinjar to the gonl : 
A scanty dust, to feed the wind, 
Is 111] ihe trace 'twill leave behind. 
Then wherefore waste the rose's bloom 
Upon the cold, insensate tonih ? 
Can flowery hreexe, or odour's breath. 
Affect the still, cold Gensc of death? 
Oh no I I a«[k no balm to steep 
With firagmnt tears my bed of steep: 
But now, while ever}- pulse is glowing. 
Now let me breathe the l>alsam flowing j 
Now let the rose, with blush of lire, 
Upon my brow in sweets expire ; 
And bring the iiymph whose eye hath power 
To brighten even death's cold hour. 
Yet, Cupid I ere my shade retire. 
To join the blest etysian choir, 
With wine, and love, and social ehcer, 
III iiuike my own elysiuni here I 



ODE XXXI tLi 

'TwAS noon of night, when rountl the pole 
The sullen Bemr is seen to roll ; 
And mortals, wearied with the day, 
Are slumbering nil their cares away : 
An infant, at that dreary hour. 
Came weeping to my silent bower. 
And wak*d me with a piteous prayer, 
To shield him from the midnight air. 
"And who art thou," I waking cry, 
" That bidat my hli««fy visions fly?"* 

Bid the rwy cunrui fiuh. 
Let It m otitic liVe thy hHuth. 
Oodkleia, hA«t thou e*rr aimtm 
8««o « fcMt «o rich Id love ? 
Kut « KHil ItiAt ta not iiihi«> I 
Not « toul tliat It out iHifie ! 

*' CoBipttm with UUa ode (njri tH«i G<inna.a catnincDtUar) 
tli« bsMftifbt pcwm In Bjunler*! I.3rr. BtunoiliMv, lib. Iv. 
p. BC, * Amur ala DlitiAr/ '* 

* M. B«ni«nl, the gutthar of L' Art d*Atin«r, h«i written a 
baXlmt eaUad " hm Siirpritca do 1' Amour/' hi whkh the 
tMl4«n of the third antrr* W AtMcnoa, and tlie vtory of thb 



*' Ah, gentle sire ! " the inlhnt said, 
" lo pity take me to thy shed ; 
Nor fear deceit ; a lonely child 
I wander o*er the gloomy wild. 
Chill drops the rain, and not a ray 
Iltumes the drear and misty way I " 

I heard the baby's tide of woe ; 
I heard the bitter night -winds blow ; 
And sighing for his pitioiis fate, 
I trinjtn'd my lump und op'd the gate, 
'Twas Love I the little wand'ring sprite, > 
HiB pinion spurkled through the night 
I knew him by his bow and dart ; 
I knew him by my fluttering heart 
Fondly I take him in, and raise 
The dying embers" cheering bla/e ; 
Press from hifi dank and clinging hair 
The crystals of the fVeealng air. 
And in my hand and bosom hold 
His little fingers thrilling ccdd. 

And now the einbera^ genial ray 
Had warm'd his anxiotis fears away \ 
** I pray thee," said the wanton child, 
(My bosom trembled as he smiFd.) 
** I pray thee let me try my bow. 
For through the rain I've wander'd so. 
That much I fear, the midnight shower 
Haji injurM its elastic power." 
The fatal bow the nrchin drew ; 
Swifl from the string the arrow flew ; 
As £:wii\ly flew &£ glnncing flame, 
And to my inmost spirit came ! 
" Fare tliee well," I heard bim say, 
As laughing wild he wingM away ; 
** Fare thee well, for now I know 
The rain baa not re Ian 'd my bow j 
It still can tend a thrilling dart. 
As thon shaU own with all thy heart ! ** 



I 
t 



of 



ode tUKjcrtti onr of tbe tcenei C£ufT«t lie 1 

•cma4ih. 

The (ierniAa anuoiatur referi ui here U> an I 
Ui, lib. Hi., "^^ Amor and •t-ln BrtMkrri" 
KMtt, '' dlt nHluBf." La FuDUino hm I 
rather Imluted, thli ode. 

* " And vko art ikon." I waHmg crff^ 
** 1%ot bkT^ mp bliu/ul wsionsjfit ^ * '] A n^creon afiprftr* 
to have bMO a voluptuuf errn In drcaminur, tty tha llvrly' 
regret which be expreuet a| being disturbed frotn hU 
Tifloiurf enjorn^ent*. S«e tho odet a. aod xxxvLL 

> 'TVitf r^rr! the time ^tmm^rimg »prite, fc-l See tlw 
bmaatul tUrftcrfption oT Cupid, bj MoKhui, in bl» tnl Mft 



3 



ODES OF ANACRFX)N. 



27 



ODE XXXIV. 1 

Ob thou, of all creation Uest, 
Sweet insect, that deligfat'st to rest 
Upon the wild wood*! leafy tops. 
To drink the dew that morning drops, 
And chirp th j song with such a glee, * 
That happiest kings maj enry thee. 
Whaterer decks the Telret field, 
Whate*er the circling seasons jield, 
'Wkaterer bods, whatever blows. 
For thee it bods, for thee it grows. 
Nor jet art thoa the peasant's fear. 
To him th J friendly notes are dear ; 
For thoa art mild as matin dew ; 
And still, when sommer's flowery hoe 
Begins to paint the bloomy plain. 
We hear thy sweet prophetic strain ; 
Thy sweet prophetic stnun we hear. 
And bless the notes and thee rerere I 
The Moses lore thy shrilly tone ; ^ 
Apollo calls thee all his own ; 

1 la a Latin ode addretMd to th« (rtMhopper, Rapin haa 
prraerred tuiDC of the tbooffats of our author : .— 
O qo* Tireoti gramfaiis fai toro. 
Cicada, blaade aidla, et berhidoa 
Sakos oberraa, otioaoa 
logenioM ciere cantua. 
Seu forte adnltb lloribus incubas, 
Csli cadods ebria fleUba», Ac. 
Oh thoa. Uiat oo the grasaj bed 
Which Nature** Tcmal hand has spread, 
Rcclioest toft, and tun'st thj song. 
The dewy herbs and leaves among ! 
\l'h«ilier thoa ly'st on springing flowers. 
Drunk with Uie balmj morning-showers. 
Or, Ac. 
iM« what Licetus sajrs about grasshoppers, cap. 93. and 
IV». 

s Amd ekirp CAy »<mg wilk $mek a gUe,%c.'\ ** Some authors 
hare aflbmed (sajrs Madame Dacier), that it is only male 
graMhoppers which sing, and that the females are silent ; 
and on this circumstance b founded a bon-mot of Xenarchus, 
the cooode poet, wlio says ur* uen m rtmyu •»» u i m ft mu , 
in rms4 rwMufn mi* in wf ^mm iy< ; * are not the grasshop. 
pers happy in baring dumb wires?"* This note is ori- 
ginally Henry Sceptien's ; hot I chose rather to make a lady 
my authority for it. 

> TV Mmaes lore tkg skrtUg toiu ; %e.^ PhUe. de Anfanal. 
Proprtetat calls tbb insect Hmrmt ^Ak, the darling of the 
Vases ; and Mmmw ifMv. the bird of the Muses ; and we 
ind Plato compared for his eloquence to the grasshopper, hi 
the following panning lines of Timoo, prescrred by Diogenes 



Ttm ravTwv I* ryttv yXsTwmsrsr, «AA* my t furm 
'HSmtw nTn($9 i0^yfm9H, «' ^* 'E m mi t iftm 

This last line b borrowed from Homer's Iliad, >>, where 
(here oecnrs the rery same simile. 

* MekMomtinMect^ekadttfeartk^ Longepterre has quoted 
the two flnt lines of an epi gram of Antipater, from the flrst 
book of tho AoChologIa, wiMre be prefers the grasshopper to 



'Twas he who gare that Toice to thee, 
"Tis he who tones thy minstrelsy. 

Unworn by age*s dim decline. 
The fiMleless blooms of youth are thine. 
Melodioos insect, child of earth, « 
In wisdom mirthful, wise in mirth : 
Exempt from erery weak decay. 
That withers vulgar frames away ; 
With not a drop of blood to stain 
The current of thy purer vein ; 
So blest an age is passed by thee. 
Thou seem*st — a little deity ! 



ODE XXXV.* 

CcpiD once upon a bed 

Of roses laid his weary head ; 

Luckless urchin, not to see 

Within the leaves a slumbering bee; 

A^sM rtmym4 / i ifcr » < Sf«r«r, my>jt wmm 

In dew, that drops from morning's wings. 

The gay Cicada sipping floau ; 
And, drunk with dew, his matin sings 
Sweeter than any cygnet's notes. 
» Theocritus has tanitatcd this beautiful ode in his nine- 
teenth idyl ; but b very Inferior. I think, to hb original, in 
delicacy of point and nairettf of expression. Spenser, in one 
of hb smaller compositioas. has sported more diffusely on 
the same subject. The poem to which I allude, begins 
thus: — 

Upon a day, as Ix>Te lay sweetly slumbering 

All in hit mother's lap ; 
A gentle bee, with hb loud trumpet murmuring. 
About him flew by h^, &c. Ike 
In Almeloreen's collection of epigrams, there b one by 
Luxorius, correspondent somewhat with the turn of Ana- 
creon, where Lore complains to hb mother of being wounded 
by a rose. 

The ode before us b the rery flower of simpUrity. The 
bi&ntine complainings of the little god, and the natural and 
impressire reflections which they draw from Venus, are 
beauties of inimitable grace. I may be pardoned, perhaps, 
for introducing here another of Menage's Anacreontics, not 
for its similitude to the subject of tbb ode, but for some fkint 
traces of the same natural simplicity, which it appears to me 
to have preserred : — 

£{«r rtr* if x*C*'"^ 

Tn* i*»t ftkrr K«(<tMC». 
'fU u)lt, if wf0; mvrr.t 

AihtfMM.( TV XU^t mrrtrf 

KCMri<vV<^ 
£9«^ ittivrnfmrrmt. 



28 



MOOBETS WORKS. 



The bee awak*d — with anger wild 
The bee awak'd, and stung the child. 
Loud and piteous are his cries ; 
To Venns quick he runs, he flies ; 
** Oh mother I — I am wounded through — 
I die with pain — in sooth I do I 
Stung by some little angry thing, 
Some serpent on a tiny wing — 
A bee it was — for once, I know, 
I heard a rustic call it so." 
Thus he spoke, and she the while 
Heard him with a soothing smile ; 
Then said, ** My infant, if so much 
Thou feel the little wild-bce*s touch, 
How must the heart, ah, Cupid ! be. 
The hapless heart that's stung by thee ! " 



ODE XXXVI.i 

If hoarded gold posscss'd the power 
To lengthen life's too fleeting hour. 
And purchase from the hand of death 
A little span, a moment's breath, 
How I would loTC the precious ore I 
And every hour should swell my store ; 

As dmnclng o'er the eiuunell'd plain, 
The flow'ret of the virgin train, 
My ftoul't Corlnna lightly play'd. 
Young Cupid law the graceful maid ; 
Ho saw, and in a moment flew. 
And round her neck his arms he threw ; 
Saying, with smiles of infant Joy, 
** Oh ! kiss me, mother, kiss thy boy ! " 
Unconscious of a mother's name. 
The modekt virgin blush'd with shame I 
And angry Cu|vld, scarce believing 
That vision rould be so deceiving — 
Thus to mistake his Cyprian dame ! 
It made ev'n Cupid blush with shame. 
** Be not asharo'd, my boy," I cried. 
For I was lingering by hit side ; 
*' Corinna and thy lovely mother, 
neliifve me, are so like each other, 
That ciearrst eyes are oft betray'd. 
And talie thy Venus for the maid." 
Zitto, io his Capprlriusi Pensieri, has given a translation 
of this ode of Anacrcon. 

I Kontenrlle has translated this ode, in his dialogue be- 
tween Anacreon and Aristotle in the shades, where, on 
weighing the merits of both these personages, he bestows the 
prise of wisdom upon the poet. 

** The German imitators of this ode are. Tossing, in his 
poem * Oestem BrUder,' Ac. ; Olrim. in the ode * An den 
Todt' and Hchmidt In der I'oet. Blumenl., GottJug. 1783, 
p-7.** — Drgns. 
• Tkmt when Death emmte, teitk skmdoirp ptnton. 

To trttfl metoUi kiettk domimkm, ^c] The rommenu- 



That when Death came, with shadowy pinion. 
To waft me to his bleak dominion, < 
I might, by bribes, my doom delay, 
And bid him call some distant day. 
But, since, not all earth's golden store 
Can buy for us one bright hour more 
'Why should we vainly mourn our fate 
Or sigh at life's uncertain date ? 
Nor wealth nor grandeur can illume 
The silent midnight of the tomb. 
No — give to others hoarded treasures — 
Mine be the brilliant round of pleasures ; 
The goblet rich, the board of friends. 
Whose social souls the goblet blends ; ' 
And mine, while yet I've life to live. 
Those joys that love alone can give. 



ODE XXXVII.4 

'TwAS night, and many a circling bowl 
Had deeply warm'd my thirsty soul ; 
As lull'd in slumber I was laid. 
Bright visions o'er my fancy pUy'd. 
With maidens, blooming as the dawn, 
I seem'd to skim the opening Uwn ; 

tors, who are so fond of disputing " de lanA caprinA,** have 
been very busy on the authority of the phrase n* tu hwtxa 
MtAftf. The reading of ;»* «» %m»mtrH unXAi. which De Me- 
denbach proposes in his Amcenitatet LiterarisF, was already 
hinted by Le Fevre, who seldom suggests any thing worth 
notice. 

3 The goblet rich, the board qf friends. 

Whose soa'al souis the goblet blends ; ] This communioo 
of friendship, which sweetened the bowl of Anacreon, has 
not been forgotten by the author of the following sdioUum, 
where the blessings of life are enumerated with proverbial 
simplicity. 'Tyuttpur f*t9 uftm» mnifi ^mr^. Auntfm )t, 
««A«r fv9if ytnrBau. T« t^^tm d«, wkmtUf tAsknf* Vint v» 

Of mortal blessings here the flrst is health. 
And next those charms by which the eye we move ; 

The third is wealth, unwoundlng guiltless wealth. 
And then, sweet intercourse with thoee we love I 

< Compare with this ode the beautiful poem *dar Tranm* 
of Vtr — Drgen. 

Le Fevre, in a note upon this odo, enters into an elaborate 
and learned Justification of drunkenness ; and this is pro- 
bably the cause of the severe reprehension which he ^pcars 
to have suffered for his Anacreon. " Fuit olim (ateor (says 
he in a note upon Longinus), cum Sapphonem amabam. 
Sed ex quo ilia me perditissima fonnina pene miserun perdU 
dit cum scelcratissimo suo congcrrone, (Anacreontem dico, 
si nescis. Lector.) noli sperare, &c. &c." He addocas oo 
this ode the authority of Fiato, who allowed ebrieCy, at tha 
Dionysian festivals, to men arrived at their fortieth year. 
He likewise quotes the following line from Alexis, which ha 
says no one, who is not totally ignorant of the worid, cm 
hesitate to confess the truth of: — 
OvSiif #»X«r*rqr srvnr 
** No lover of drinking was 



ever a Tkloiis I 



r 


ODES OF ANACEEON, 29 




Ligfat, cm tiptoe batli'd in dew. 


Oh 'tis from him the transport flows, 




We flev. and iport«d ss ve dew ! 


N^liich sweet intoxication knows ; 






9amt rvBAj ttriplmgB who look*d on — 


And briUiant graces learn to bloom, i 






Witli ehecki, that like the wine-god*^ dioiie. 








Saw me efaflung, free and vtld, 


Behold!— mjr boys a goblet bear. 






*IWa» blooming maids, aod Uylj smird; 


Whoac iparkling foam lighu up the air. 






Staul'd indeed vidi wanton glee« 


Where are now the tear, the sigh f 






TlaoQ^ none could dpabt they eovied me. 


To the winda they fly, they fly I 






And Mill I flew — and now had caaght 


Grasp the bowl ; in nectar sinking t 






Tke putiiig nympha, and fondly thought 


Man of sorrow, drown thy thinking I 






To gttlicr from each rosy Up 


Say, can the tears we lend to thought 






A kiaa that Jove himself might «ip — 


In lifie'a aoooant aroii iis aught? 






Whea andden all my drt^ma of joya, 


Gbq we dtieem with all our lore, 






BhahtBg symphB and laughing iH^ys, 


The path weVe yet to jouniey o*er ? 






AllwregooeP— -Ahw!" 1 said. 


Alas, alas, in ways so dark. 






Sigbivg fbr th* illusion fled« 


TLs only wine can strike a spark I * 






** Again, tweet sleep, that icenc restore. 


Then let me quaff the foamy tide. 






Oh ! let me dmm it o*er and o*er !" * 


Let me imbibe the spicy breath 
Of odours chaf'd to fragrant death; 
Or ttoim the lips of love inhale 












ODE XXXVIII.s 


A more ambrosial, richer gale I 

To hearts that court the phantom Care, 






Let us drain the nectar'd bowl. 


Let him retire and shroud him there ; 






Let na raise the song of soul 


While we eichaa»t the ncctar*d bowl. 






To hrm, the god who loves so well 


And swell thi^ cboml song of soul 






Tlie nectar'd bowl, the choral swell; 


To him, the god who loves so well 






The god who taught the sons of earth 


The neclar*d bowl, the choral swell I 






To ihrid the tangled dance of mirth; 








Hkn, who was onrs'd with in fun t Love, 








And cradled in the Paphian grove; 
Hiai^ thai the snowy Qiu^^n of Charms 










So oft has foodicd in her anna.* 








1 tt^n Nuf4n« aii *»» 'ircnw <itj"Vf, 


wblcli Mvmi to bint Uvat " Love*! Mtj fiiTaiin vn lost, wbaa 








not coocealcd." 






J4t «*crr f««rn " Nooou* MT* ^ Baorhiw, alioott In 


^ AtoMt atai. In w^» «o dark. 






ta* Msv wonU ti%at Aiucrmm luet.— 


' TiM OHtf whu cam ttrikt a spark ! ] The bre* ity of life 






Ej^e^WMT U 


Altowf argumcnti for the voIuptUMj «* well u tite JOorAlltt. 






Umfjkfm M« is<t^#i* Km tAiAj* mAtt tmmn." 


AtDonf mafij panUlel piuMpe* which Ixingrepierre hu ad- 








duced, 1 thAll content mjiclf with thU ppignun tram the 






Tk* ajBpti bad ftvlfld (rtm hit tftus ; 


AntbologlA. 






A^dn to tlainbcT h« nur'd. 

AaslB to elup the •badowj mftkl. LoNOOititKB. 


*£X«*M<»4 »ipAj««f ^of^Mur Kfi(.i4-»»«#> 






S •* /f«ni, MVtf «A«lp» <*4i« Jcrnf rrUert, 


*Fu«(; J xm^ttf^ %m fi4*f* UTm tb A.«f«-a 






OA' tnmat 4ream Uo*rr«mdo'fr t *'} TkKtttf Jahtmm> in 


Tn^*f mmktmu, mui n rtXt ^u»mn4. 
















Of which the fultoving !• a pttrBphraMf r.^ 






«f ilMNa<ht» U> detoel aa Imltaticm of loca^ UKient poet, allude* 


Let'i fly, my lof«, ftwm aocmdajp'i beam. 








To plunge ut in jrou cooling ttrc^un ; 














• t <H«d »■ tiMp agiaa,*lb9 wytlK»r Imllat«» Aiucreoo, »ho 


We*ll pu* In mirth the crenlng hour i 






li^ U W «Df ocImv rub, the Mm* with on the «*n)e occMlon/ ' 


'Til thuji our Age of btUt ihail flf , 






* "* C:omp«r« vith (hi* bnotUUl odir to Daccbui the v«ri«fl 


Ai ivriTt, tUuugh pAMJngu th«t ligh, 








AVhkh »eem» to whUper o*cr your lip. 






i..»i. ac. *c/*— ja<3rr«. 


'- Corae, while j'ou majr, orra$»ture ilp." 






< nam, tkmi 1k£ mfivjf Qmten qf Charm* 


For ajj^e will ileal the graceful form, 






U^ km J^mdUd Ht ktr mrrn*,} Uchert^ttas, upon t1t» 


Wtll chill Che pulfe, while tbro6hlng ir»nn ; 








And lieaih— *liw 1 that hcarti, which thrill 






Cjtbmrwmf llie nvac of Venus, wt^ tt mvIu* t«wV i<*rf , 


Like jouTi Mid mine, ihould e'er lie ttill t 




1 


■ _ 




J 



. 




i 






30 MOORE'S WORKS. " 






ril gather Joy's luxuriant flower*, 






ODB 3LXXIX. 


And gild with bliss my fLidlag hours ; 






How I ItiTe t!ie festiTe boy, 


Bacchus shall hid my wi niter hloom. 






Tripping tliroygh the dance of joy 1 


And Venus dance me to the tomh I » 






How I love the mellow sage, 


,■ 




fimiling through the Tell of age I 








^H 




And whune er this man of years 


■ 




In the dauce of joy appears. 


ODE un. ^M 




Sqows may o'er his head he fluog. 


When Spring adorns the dewy scene, H 




But his heart — his heart is young. > 


Cow svf'eet to walk the velTet green, H 
And hear the west wind^s gentle sigba, ^M 
As o*er the seented mead It 6ies ! I^| 








How sweet to mark the pouting vine, ^H 




ODE XL, 


Heady to burst in tears of wine ; ^| 




f KNOW that Heaven hath sent me here 


And with some maid^ who breathes hut love, 


1 




To run this mortal life*8 career ; 


To walk, at noontide, through (he grove, * 


1 




The scents which I have journeyed o'er, 
Return no more — alas ! no more ; 


Oh, is not this true happiness ? 


1 




And all the path Fvc yet to go, 
I neither know nor ask to know. 




■ 




■ 




Away, then, wizard Care, nor think 


f^TlV Yf 11 ft ^^^1 




Thy fetters round this soul to link ; 


nuts Ai^ll.* 


■ 




Never can heart that feels with me 


Yt;s, he the glorious revel mine, 


■ 




Descend to he a slave to thee ! * 


Where humour sparkles from the wine. 


1 




And oh i before the vital thrill, 


A round me, let the youthful choir 


1 




Which trembles at my heart, is still. 


llespond to my enlivemng lyre ; IH 




1 ^$totr$ may o'er hit head he finng. 


which he niakeA htm promulgate the pr«c«pCi of good feUa«> 


■ 




But kti ktart^hiM heart U y<mng,'\ Sufnt FaTio mukM 


•lilp even from the tomtL 


■ 




tibo Mine 4Jliti»ctla» lo m lunnfiC to a jounf girt* 


naAA4tj(4 M4' T*S' Aurmt mm i» ruf^Cw li $fifrm. 


I 




Jr saU bii»f* quo Ics dr4tin£'r« 


ttiXrif r^flT fmirrv* ^fJL^^Cmktflk. s«*l». 


■ 




Oat iiiAl c(»nip«»e dm annit«f \ 


Thii IpAion oft In llCe 1 «ung, 


■ 




No reffanliix quo isuu anwur ; 


AikI from my gtAfe I »tlll thall cry. 


M 




Feul-iM^re on teres voui ontie. 


" Drbdc, mortal, drtnk, ivhtlo ttmn 1# young. 


M 




tl e«t Jeuno ct n'otC quo do jour, 


Ere death ha4 mad« thae cold at [.'* 


V 




nellc; [t|j. que Jb TCKii aJ toe. 


« And vith Mtrmt maid, wka hre^thet bta /p»r. 






Ami 1 full iDAiijr A yo«r have told \ 


To vraUc, at rKHmttde, iftr^gk tJkegr&we,} Thus i1orw«:~ 






But read tbe heart and not th« brow» 


Quid hjiliM lllliu. ttllui 






Tbou thAlt not find my loro ii oW. 


QiiB ■{ilrabat amorcd, 






My loT*'* a child ; And Ihoii cAiisl Mjr 
Kow much hU little a^o maj be» 


Que me turpuerat mlhl. Llh, lr. Cam. IS. 






And does there then reroala but tbii. 






For ha u A« bom tht very d-iy 


And hast thou lott each ru*y ray 






WlMsn flr*t I •«{ my cjm on lh»*e 1 


or her. who UrtMtb'a the kiuI of bllia. 






■ Krrer ean krart tkaifeeh ulth me 


Atid itola nie from mytelf away * 








^ Tba character of AancreoD Is hers very •trfUogly dtptalvd. 






ppXfitKm n-om Uia Anthologla, on accounl of the similarity of 








» partk^iaar plirafe. Thiiujib by Wk mcAUt aaacrroiitic, It 


warmth, orabble anil endcarinir^ AmoOf tba eplftaBi l»- 






U marlLiMt fay an tntereatlnf •Implk-Uy which hsa induced me 


put«*l to Aoacrcon ii the folJoiring % it U the only om voitli 






to pvapliraM k. and may alooo Tor lli Inirualon. 


tntniUtion, and U brc4thc» the muuo ientiiaeiits wllh fUl 






EXrn M.mi ^ nxn f^ym X^t^^ ^** >^*mv* «^. 


od«: — 






Ovitr MM* X* ^f*"' ^*"C*« rmn /*«t' tfH, 








At limffth to Fortune, and to you. 


M|i«t« mtu fii|j/Mt imMfvMtr* ktfU. 






Drhitlv* llop« J a Iwl *difii. 


AXk'irrit Mmam t%, mm «yX«« !*(' ApfAi^ 






Th« cbaMii (hat mice bc>)(uli'd li o'«r« 




^ 




And t h^tt rcaeh'd my dntla'd *bar«. 


When to the Up Uie brimmlnjt eup Iji presC, 


■ 




Away. »mny, rour B ittnrStTf 4rt» 


And h»rtt are all aao>iLt upmi It* friM^Am, 


■ 




May now ' r l.oirti. 


TYi'm banif h frutn my board th' unpolUh*d fuett, 






Aodyoo WfiUig, 


Who inakci tbe feai* of war bU barbarou* lheiD0> 






And the) , irceirlag ! 


Out hf h>it the nun, who oVf hit fublet wreAthM 








The Mu»e*« laurel with tlie Cyprian «ow»r t 






Amtyewtu d^msr meiQ tke tttmhf] The *am«coinmotiutor 


Oh 3 (tlve me tilin, «ho*e loul expnA»tve bmaalbea 






luM qiiotMl m •pitaph, irrinra u^m oar pool by JulUn, tn 









ODES OF ANACREON. 



31 



Aim! while the red cap fbduns akMig, 
Mingle in soul •• well •• soog. 
Tben, while I sit, with flowret*! crown'd. 
To regnlate the goblet*! roond. 
Let bat the nymph, oar banqoet'i pride. 
Be seated smiling by my side. 
And earth hu not a gift or power 
That I would en^y, in that hour. 
Envy ! — oh nerer let its blight 
Tooeh the gay hearts met here to-ni^it 
Far hence be slander's sidelong woonds, 
Xor harsh dispute, nor discord's sounds 
Disturb a scene, where all should be 
Attaned to peace and harmony. 

Come, let us hear the harp's gay note 
Upon the breeze inspiring float. 
While round us, kindling into lore. 
Young maidens through the light dance more. 
Thus blest with mirth, and lore, and peace. 
Sure such a life should nerer ceasfe ! 



ODE XLIII. 



While our rosy fillets shed 
Freshness o'er each ferrid head. 
With many a cup and mxmy a smile 
The festal moments we beguile. 
And while the harp, impa8sion*d, flings 
Tuneful raptures from its strings, > 



1 Jmd vkOe the harp, impa$tkm*d,JUmgf 
Tvmrfmi rmftmrrfrom its $trimg»^ ^r.] Retpecting the bur> 
bit/jo a bo«t oTauthnritie* msjteeollecied.wliich^fter all, leare 
utirtoranC of the nature of the hutrument There b scareriy 
any point upon which we are so toUlljr cminforroed as the 
Busir of the andeoU. The aothors* extant opoo the sub- 
ject are. I hnacine, little understood ; and certainly If one of 
tfaHr moods was a progressioo by quarter-tones, which we 
are told was the nature of the eahannooic scale, simplicity 
was by no means the characterirtic of their melody ; for this 
te a nicety of progression, of which modem music b not sns- 
crptible. 

The hiTentioa of the barblton is, by Atheuras, attributed 
to A narrron. See his fourth book, where it is called r« ut^fut 
rm A»«s«Mvv«r. Xeanthes of Cyiicus, as quoted by Gyial- 
du. asferts the same. Vide Ch^bot, in Horat. on the words 
*- l^etboum barbiton," in the 6rst ode. 

s Amd f»k, tke amdnen in kit tigk. 
At o'er kit lip the accmit die /] Longepierre has quoted 
here an epigram from the Anthologia : — 

"StMnif H9 *• ^XrjtM. rt ym^ rrtuM »tsrc{«r t«>w. 
Xm pu9um rt ftXnftm, wtXm rtt t^arrm rtranu/f. 

Of which the following paraphrase may give some Idea : — 



Some airy nymf^ with graceful bound. 

Keeps measure to the music s sound ; 

Waring, in her snowy hand. 

The leafy Rarchanalian wand. 

Which, as the tripping wanton flics, 

Trembles all orer to her sighs. 

A youth the while, with looscn'd hair. 

Floating on the listless air. 

Sings, to the wild harp's tender tone, 

A tale of woes, alas, his own ; 

And oh, the sadness in his sigh. 

As o'er his lip the accents die ! * 

Kerer sure on earth has been 

Half so bright, so blest a scene. 

It seems as Lore himself had come 

To make this spot his chosen home ; — ^ 

And Venus, too, with all her wiles. 

And Bacchus, shedding rosy smiles, 

All, all are here, to hail wiUi me 

The (Renins of Festirity ! * 



ODE XLIV.s 

Bin>9 of roses, rirgin flowers, 
Cull'd from Cupid's balmy bowers. 
In the bowl of Bacchus steep. 
Till with crimson drops they weep. 
Twine the rose, the garland twine, 
Erery leaf distilling wine ; 
Drink and smile, and learn to think 
That we were bom to smile and drink. 



Thr Idis that she left on my lip. 

Like a dew-drop sliall lingering lie ; 
*Tira» oertar she gave me to sip. 

'Twas nectar I drank in her sigh. 
From the moment she printed that klu. 

Nor reason, nor rest has been mine ; 
>fy whole soul has been drunk with the bliaa. 

And frels a delirium dirine ! 

* // teemt at Love hirftte(fkad come 

To make tkit tpoi kit ek9tem home i —"] The introduction 
of these deities to the festiral is merely allegoricaL Madam* 
Dader thinks that the poet describes a masquerade, where 
these deities were personated by the company in maska. The 
translation will conform with either idea. 

* AIL, aU are kere, to kaU witk me 

The Geniut qf Fettiritp !] Kmtue, the deity or genius of 
mhth. Philostratus, in the third of bis pictures, gircs a very 
lirely description of this god. 

* This spirited poem is a eulogy on the rose ; and again, in 
the 6fty-flfth ode, we sliall find our author rich in the praises 
of that flower. In a fragment of Sappho, in the romance of 
Achilles Tatius, to which Barnes refers us. the rose is Canri- 
fully styled " the eye of flowers ; '* and the lame poetess, in 
another fragmi nt. calls the (arours of the Mum " the roses of 
Pierla.** See the notes on the flfty.fiftb ode. 

** Compare with this ode (says tha GennaD annotator) the 
bewtiful ode or Us. * die RoM.* ** 




d2 



MOORE'S WOEKa 



Rofe, thou art the fiwect«?st flower 

That ever drank the anib«r shower ; 

Ro«e» thou art the fondest chJId 

Of dimpled Spring, ihe wood-nymph wild. 

Even the Gods, who walk Ihe skjr, 

Are amorouf of thy scealed sigh. 

Cnpid, too» in Paphmn ^Imdct, 

HiM hair wUh rosy fillt^t braida, 

When with the hlushiag, sister Graces^ 

The wiiutou winding dance he traces. ' 

Then bring me, showers of rosea bring, 

And shed them o'er me while I sing* 

Or while, great Bacchus, round thy fihrine. 

Wreathing my brow with rose nnd vine, 

I lead some bright nymph through the danoe,^ 

Commingling soul with every gbnce. 



ODE XLV, 



Within this goblet, rich and deep, 

I cradle all my woes to sleep. 

W^hy should we breathe the sigh of fear* 

Or ptjur the iinaviulmg tear ? 

For death will never heed the sigh. 

Nor soften at the tearful eye ; 

And eyes that sparkle, eyes that weep, 

Must ail alike be seard in sleep. 

Then let us never vainly stray, 

In search of thorns, from pteasoreV way ; 3 

> ^kem iPfiM IM^ hltukfmg^ iiMier GnteeM, 
The uumtan v^mdimg danet ke lract»^'] *• Thli twc!«i Idea 
of Love tlandoc with the GracM, ti ^ImMt peculiif to Aru- 
— Drgrm, 



* ftrad tome hrigki n^mpk Ikrougk ihe damoe, ^J The 
rfilthK ^0^anr, which he givn to the nyoiph, U Ul«rsllj 
" Aill'tiofoincd.*' 

* Thnt let u$ ntrtr vainly Urajf, 

tm tfAt^h of tkonu, from pteaaurt^i v^^ ; j|e.] t tiJtrt 
thut pndeav mired to ranvey the tneAolnf of r* h ^^ fi*m 
rAmvttMAJ i according to R»gnl«r'f par«pbrA»e of the line : — 

K ch« voj. fiKir d«lla strada 
Pel |[»1aeer« aliaa e f rvlUa, 
Vanefglarv In qtiMta flta ? 

* The faitldlotii »ffbctat{oo of tome cxumioentalorB haa da* 
oounced thia ode a« apurioui. Degcn pronouocca the Tour 
iMt lliir* to lif the |Mit«h-«iLHk of •ante tniaerahle vtriUlcator, 
in4 Drunrk cnndermtit the whole ode. tt appears to Mi«i, on 
tlw eontrary^ to he eteffajitjy j^niphicaJ ; full of delicate ei* 
preaaifoni and luxiirtaat linasciy. The abruptuett of I2i wm 
i«|ar fmntrag is ttrlkfng and apiiited, and hu been imitated 
lallWf laafuldlj by Horac« : — 

Vld«c ul alu Atct nire candldom 
Soracte - 

TiM Imperatlra •!• la tnOnlielr nora faapreialTe $ _ w In 



Bm look, Hm mwut In ruaaet mantle clad, 
WelU e^er tlie dew of yon high eaateni hUl. 



But wisely quaff the rosy wave. 

Which Bacchus loves, which Baochua giLve ; 

And in the goblet, rich and deep, 

Cradle our crjiDg woes to aleep. 



ODE XLVU 

Bebold, the young, the rAsy Spring, 
Gives to the breexe her scented wing; 
Wh'de virgin Graces, warm with May, 
Fling roses o'er her dewy way. * 
The murmuring billows of the deep 
Have languish *d into flilent sleep ; * 
And mark! the flitting sca-hirda hive 
Their plumes in the reflecting wave ; 
While cranes from hoary winter dy 
To flatter in a kinder sky. 
Now the genial star of day 
Dissolves the murky clouds away ; 
And coHur'd field, and winding atreani.'' 
Are freshly glittering in his beam. 

Now the earth prolific swells 
With leafy bads and fiowery bells ; 
Oeimning shoots the olive twinet 
Clasters ripe festoon the Tine : 
All along the branches creeping, • 

Through the vflvel foliage peeping, 
Little infant fruits we see^ 
Nnraing Into luxury. 

There li a timplo and poeilcal deteripttoQ of Sprlnf. In 
CatuUu*** t>u4uUrul farewcU to Bithjuia. Caras^ 44. 

Bamea coojecturea, tn hi* life of oar poet« that Chia ode 
waa written after be had returned from Athena, to aettlc In 
hlf paternal leal at Teos ; where, in a Little filla «l aoow 
diitance from the eity^ cocomaodifif a view of the JCfeaii Sos 
and the lalaiMla, he oootampLakad the biaotiei of natiuw and 
enjoyed the foUdtlet of rctlreraeot. Vide Beraca, la Anac. 
Vita, \ %%%r* ThIa auppoiilloa. however unantbcntkalcd. 
forma a pleaalng asaociatlun, which rendera the poem npfw 
tDtereatlnf. 

CbevriBu aaya, that Gregory Kavtanienoa h«« paraphrased 
eomewlMre thia description of Spring ; Init I ra&ixic wawl 
with It. See Cherreau^ CEuvrea M^l^ea. 

** Compare with thia ode <aaya Degen) the veraea at 
Hagedora, hook fourth, * dor FrUhtlng/ and iMolt llAh, * 4m 
Hal/" 

* Wkilt wirgim Oraoa, warm iHtk Ifey. 

Fling woatM «*er her 4t»9 ^ttjf^} De Paaw iiili, Kfifaw 
^« ^fMvrif , " the roeea dlaplay their gnete.** This Is vai 
unlng rnloua t hot wr lose by It the beauty of the perteolAca- 
tlon, to the holdueaa of which Regnler hiu rather frivolcMMly 
otyected. 

* TAt* mttrmurt'nff hitloVM t^iJke4eep 

Have tanguith'd inta tiL-nt aUcfi ; 4h«^.] tt haa been Jusllf 
remarked, that tli£ liquid flow of the line evK^kiwtreir j 
la perfectly expretdTe of the irviMiuUllrj whkch it i 

7 ^mf aUinr'tl JkU. mad winding §frr*im, |t-.] By 4 
•f>w ** the works of nen*' (aayt Eaxler). he mrana rldev 
templce, sakl tovrnf ^ which are thm illuminated by the li 
of tbeauD. 



ODES OF ANACREON. 



32 



ODE XLVII. 

Tis true, my fading yean dedine. 
Yet can I qnaff the brimming wine, 
As deep as any stripling fiur, 
Whcwe cheeks the flush of morning wear ; 
And if, amidst the wanton crew, 
Tm called to wind the dancers cloe. 
Then shalt thou see this rigorous hand. 
Not &ltenng on the Bacchant's wand. 
Bat brandishing a rosy flask, ^ 
The only thyrsus e*er Fll ask I ^ 

Let those, who pant for Glory*8 charms. 
Embrace her in the field of arms ; 
>^liile my inglorious, placid soul 
Breathes not a wish beyond this bowl. 
Then fill it high, my ruddy slave. 
And bathe me in its brimming wave. 
For though my fading years decay. 
Though manhood's prime hath passed away. 
Like old Silenus, sire dirine, 
"With blushes borrowed firom my wine, 
111 wanton *mid the dancing train. 
And live my follies o*er again ! 



ODE XLVIII. 

When my thirsty soul I steep, 
Erery sorrow's lulFd to sleep. 
Talk of monarchs I I am then 
Richest, happiest, first of men ; 
Careless o'er my cup I sing. 
Fancy makes me more than king ; 
GiTes me wealthy Croesus* store. 
Can I, can I wish for more ? 



> Bmt hrmndisking a rotufieuk^ ^.j Kwnt was a kind of 
leulicni TMid for wine, very much in use, as should seem 
by the prorerb mnH mmi ^uXmmf, which was applied to 
those who were intemperate in eating and drinking. This 
prorerb is mentioned in some rerses quoted by Atheunis, 
from the Hesiooe of Alexia. 

* Tike onip thgrnu ere FB atk /] Phomutus assigns as a 
reason for the consecration of the thyrsus to Bacchus, that 
faiebriety often renders the support of a stick rery necessary. 

* Irp leape* mp brow entteiMmg, ^.] " The iry was con- 
secrated to Bacchus (says Montfaucon), because he formerly 
lay bkl under that tree, or, as others will have it, because its 
leaves resenUe those of the Tine.** Other reasons for its 
consecratioo, and the ue of it in garlands at banquets, may 
be found In Longe p iene, Barnes, fte. fte. 

< Jrm ge, arm jrr, men qf mighty 
HoMtem to tke MemgrnimeJItiki ;] I have adopted the Inter- 
preCatloa of Regnler and ocben : — 



On my yel?et couch reclining. 
Ivy leaves my brow entwining, ^ 
While my soul expands with glee. 
What are kings and crowns to me ? 
If before my feet they lay, 
I would spurn them all away ! 
Arm ye, arm ye, men of might. 
Hasten to the sanguine fight ; ^ 
But let me, my budding vine ! 
Spill no other blood than thine. 
Yonder brinmiing goblet see. 
That alone shall vanquish me — 
Who think it better, wiser fiur 
To fall in banquet than in war. 



ODB XLIX.» 

When Bacchus, Jove*s immortal boy. 

The rosy harbinger of joy, 

Who, with the sunshine of the bowl. 

Thaws the winter of our soul — * 

When to my inmost core he glides, 

And bathes it with his ruby tides, 

A flow of joy, a lively heat. 

Fires my brain, and wings my feet, 

Calling up round me visions known 

To lovers of the bowl alone. 

Sing, sing of love, let music*s sound 
In melting cadence float around, 
'While, my young Venus, thou and I 
Responsive to its murmurs sigh. 
Then, waking from our blissful trance. 
Again we'll sport, again we'll dance. 



Altri aegua Marto fero ; 

Che sol Bacco h '1 mio conforto. 

* This, the preceding ode, and a few more of the same 
character, are merely chansons k boire ; — the eCTusions pro- 
bably of the moment of conTlTlality, and afterwards sung, we 
may imagine, with rapture throughout Greece. But that 
interesting association, by which they always recalled the 
convivial emotions that produced them, can now be little felt 
even by the most enthusiastic reader ; and much less by a 
phlegmatic grammarian, who sees nothing in them but dia- 
lects and particles. 

• Wko^ with the tunthhte qftke bowl, 

ThavM the winter qf our $oul—^c.'\ Avmin is the title 
which he gives to Bacchus in the original. It is a curious 
circumstance that Plutarch mistook the name of Levi among 
the Jews for Aiw (one of the bacchanal cries), and accord- 
ingly supposed that they worshipped Bacchus. 



34 



MOORE'S WORKS. 



ODfi L.) 

When wine I qanS, before my ejm * 

Dreams of poetic glory rise ; • 

And freshened by the gobIei*8 dev«. 

My sotil invokes the Ueavenly Muse. 

When wine I drink, all sorrow *s o'er; 

I thick of doubts and fears no more ; 

But scatter to ihe miUng wind 

Each gloomy phaotota of the mind. 

When I drink wine» th* ethereal boy, 

Bacehu* himself, partakes my Joy ; 

And while we dzmce through iremal bowerSt ' 

Whose cvVy brejLtb comes fresh from flowers, 

In wine he makes my senses swim, 

Till the gale breathes of nought but him! 

Again I drinkfo^amd, lo^ there seemi 
A calmer light to fill my dreams ^ 
The lately rufHed wreath I spread 
With steadier hand around my bead ; 
Tbeo take the lyre, and sing ** how blest 
The life of him who lives at rest!'* 
But then comes witching wine again, 
With glorious woman in its tnin ; 
And, white rich perfumes round me riw^ 
Tbftt seem the breath of woman's sigba, 



J TMbft thlnki thU Od» ipurloui i hut. 1 belt*»e, he h 
fclnjiiUr 111 till oplntrvn. It hn* All thp ipkrit of our nut hot. 
Like the wreiith whkb b« pr«^»cut«d io the dream, " It 
imelli of Aruicreon/' 

Tb« (tma of the OfHgliuil ti rcmftrkabli;. It li a kind nt 
MfiK of MT«» qiuttrsid ttKnuu, each heglnntckg with tb« line 
*Or' tyti trim twt »r>M 

Tbe irtt itAnM alooo Is tncomptfte, conilftLLQi but of 
ibinM \intm* 

" Comiwiti »Uh tbls poem (Mri Deff«ii> ttw vertet of 
Itiffdionit llh. v., 'der Wetn/ wbere that dtvlnis poet hu 
viOftoiMd In the praJiet of wine/' 
S Iflkf*! yifiu I vtuuf; b^ttre my rprt 
Drtmrnu 4^ poetic ftorjf riie iJ " Anirreon U not tbe 
im\j one (Mjrt Lcmgeplerre) mUom wlin* H«« Implred irlth 
Wi> flnJ An i^plgram la the flrit book of tbc Antbo- 
vhlitrh teglni lhu« : — 

If with weirr you flll up joyf f Umm, 
You'll nev^r write anjr Iblnf w1«« ; 
For wlae'i tbe true Iiotm O'f PlnuMUi, 
Which csurlei a berd to tbe iklee f 
* AwA wkilr vt dsmce iJkr^mgk r^mat btmtr$, i(C,\ IS •ome 
of the tmnileton bad ohtrrTed Doctor Tmpp'i cmution, 
wUh TWfftrd to wtXyma9wn f** It mtffmHt " Csre no rceUini In. 
IttUgae/* Ihejr would not hare ipoiled th« ■Inipllcity of 
Anerrron'i (juicjr, t>f tuch cxtraTtfant coneeptloni Si Ibe 
Mlowlogt — 

Queod J« halt, moo iwii I'lfiischie 
Q«e, d«i» itu t<Hir1«f11an pletn de parfWni dlvafi* 
Baoclitti tn'em^iofte d«fi* \** nin, 
HeopUi d« «« ll4|iMiur dltlM. 



Bright shapes, of e^ery hue and form, 

Upon my kindling fancy swarm, 

Till tbc whole world of beauty leems 

To crowd into my dazzled dreamt t 

When thus I drinks my heart refines. 

And riset as the cup deelines ; 

Rises in the genial flow« 

That none but soeial spirits know, 

Allien, with young revellers* round the bowl. 

The old themselves grow young in scHil ! * 

Oh, when I drink, true joy is mine, 

There^s bliss in every drop of wine. 

All other blessings I have known, 

I scarcely dar'd to call my own i 

But this the Fates can ne*er destroy, 

Till death o'ershadows all my joy. 



ODB Ll.i 



Fi,Y not thus my hrow of snaw« 
Lovely wanton I fly not so, 
TboQgh the wane of age is mine. 
Though youth s brilliant flush be thine. 
Still I'm daom'd to sigh for thee, 
Blest, if thou couldst sigh for me 1 

OrthU: — 

Indt mJ mens 
M«ntre Urto ebro, deliro, 
Becrho In |ftro 
Per Is irsga aura ■rnsui. 

* Hlwit, vitk pating reiftUtrt, roumi the bo*pi. 
The aid tk^nuelve* grow yomng im Momi t \ 
Gaifi edition of AojB,ereioii« wc ftnd aome carton 
tbe ^mrm of tbe anel«n.ti, whirb apiMatwd la th* FrvBck 
Journal*. At the openlof of the Qdton la Fsrls» tiie vian> 
aireri of that fpectacle reque»ted Frofteaor Qsll lo give iImm 
«&ffiie uncommon name for their fi^tee. He inigeeliJ tihe 
word *^ Thiaae/' whkh was adapted ; hut the literati of ftrls 
qtmtitoiwd tbe pfoptietf of lh« term, and addreiMd tk«lr 
to Gall throufb the medium of th« public i 



) Albertl ha* Imitated ibti ode ; and CapUupai, fai IIm I 
owUif epigram, bai given a verflou of It ; — 

Cur, LaLsffe, niea rita, meo« coobemnli aaMwes f 
Cor fiifti e iKMtro pulchra puella alnu 1^ 

Ke fUgiaa, «int «par<a licet mea tempora eania, 
liM)iM tuo ro«eua AUgeat ore color. 

Aap4ce nt intextai dt^ceant 4(iMque iore eorottaa 
Candida purpuret* UIU mists roiii. 

Ob ! whf reprt my %o\iW lmpaailon*d von, 
And flj, beloved makt, tbete longing armi ? 

If It. that wintry ttme bai HreiT'd my tmm. 
While thLoe are all the lummer't roieate eHsmi T 

See the Hch garlaDd cuU*d In Term] wtSAtber, 
Where the jrounf roMftmd with the lUy gtu«r» \ 

So. In LoT«'« vreatli w liotli mwf twlbe together. 
And I ibe Itly he, and Ihoa Che roM. 



ODES OF ANACREON, 



35 



See, in jronder floireiy briii<i. 
Coif d Ibr thiee, id j httuhing maid, ^ 
Hotr the TOM, of orient glow, 
Misglee witii tke lily's snow ; 
Mark, hov sweet their tints agree, 
Jm^ mj ^t^ like thfe and me I 



Aw AT, iwm^, ye men of rules, 

WlMft lttT€ I to do with schools? 

Tliey'd make me learn, tbey*d make me tliinkf 

B4it would they make me lore and drink ? 

Teach me this, and let me swim 

My iool upon the goblet's brim ; 

Tcacb me this, and let me twine 

Some fimd, responsiye heart to mine, ' 

For, age begins to blanch my brow, 

Tre time for nought but pleasure now. 

Fly, lad cool my goblet's glow 
At yonder fountain's gelid flow *, 
m qnaSI my boy, and calmlj sink 
Tbia aoul to slumber as I drink. 
Sooo, too soon, my Jocund slave, 
Tou'U deck your masterls gnaiy griTe; 



Ca^4 fvr CS«r, wvff khukimg mat'df] -' tn the uinie 
■MaoBBT ntat Aaaercoo pleadi for th& whitcmcu of hit locki, 
hvm ttim twmnj of Uip colour In gftrUndt, a tbepberit, Id 
Tfcaocrttm, aodMvettn to recommeiul hii black balr : — 

Kjv «* m ft**-** Urru MU • ^»*^rm ym*4w9H, 
AXX' 4#MWf » t*H mfm»it rm. r^tmt Xiyivnu." 

Longtpirrre^ Bamrt, i/c, 

* ** This Is 4o<A(Je«« the work o/ a more niodern poet tlun 

Hiianiwn j for at th« period it ben h*: \Ued rbHortdoni were 

not kaown/' — Degrm, 

ThMiflb VaU od« It found In the Vatican mantucript, I am 

I In this artuinent agalD«t iti autTien- 

dawoliifs of lb* art of rh^oric might 

■bwadf lu«e sf|»eand, the flnl who gfw» it any celebhtr 

I Corax of Sjraciuft, and be floufiibed in the century alter 



Oar poet antidpaled the kleai of Epieunu, In. hi* aTenlon 
I of IfWisJnf « aa well ai hit devotion to volup* 
ijfem ftmm^m ^lU/y^rt^ «ald th<f pblloio. 
pfecv of tin fa«dai in a letter to P/tboiclet. 

* TemcM m»e thiM^ amd Ut me twine 
Jbcw fimd, re»pont/9e heart la mme.} By zf fnTf Att*- 
il$t m bvrti^ I undentaod tome bt^uLlful fM, in the tame 
aiMinii that AtmtH ii ollen utcd for wine. " GoUlfn " l« 
frafiHuily an epithet of beauty. Thin in Vtri^i), '* Veuui 
■ ■ raa ; " and In Propeftioa, " CynUiia aurea." Tibulluj, 
lowv^cr. ealli an dd woman ** goldco." 

Thm tnuulatloo d'Aotort AnoDlmi, a» uaual, wantcjn» on 
llila pttMBge of Aoaereoo : 



And there's an end — for ah, you know 
They drink but little wine below ! * 



ODE Lni, 



WffKN I behold the festive train 

Of dancing youth, Tm yoimg again I 

Memory wakes her magic trance* 

And wings me lightly throngh the dance. 

Come, Cybeha, smiling maidl 

Cull the flower and twine the braid j 

Bid the bl tisli of summer's rose 

Burn upoti my forehead's snows j* 

And let me, while the wild and young 

Trip the mazy dance aloog. 

Fling my heap of years away, 

And be as wild, as young, as they. 

Hither haste, some cordial soul ! 

Help to my lips the brimming bowl ; 

And you shall see tbis hoaty sage 

Forget at once his locks and age. 

He still can chant the fcstiTe hymnt 

He still can kisa the goblet *s brim ; ^ 

As deeply quaff, as largely fill. 

And play tbe fool right nobly still. 



B Bi*tBiegtil etm pin rare 

Forme accorte d' Inrolare 
Ad amablle beltade 
II l>el cliitti d'^ upentade. 
4 An4 Ihert'i tin end - — for aM, yt»u kn'Oto 
Thc^ drink imt little «riW betow i ] Thus Malnard : — 
La Mart noiii guette; et qunnd les loit 
Koui ont en/ermei une foil 
All MJQ d'une U»u profoade, 
Adkm boBf vint et boo repai ; 
Ma sctenoe ne (rouve pa« 
Dv» cabarets en I'autre monde. 
From Maioard, Gombauld, and Uc Calllj, ©Id Frenrh 
pcj«ti« lome ot the be«t epigramji of the l^nglUh Lauguof^fr 
have beeiii borrowed. 
* Bid the UhmH qf§ummer's ro»e 
Bum upon mg forekead^g tmovM / %e.} Lliefltui, (d hla 
Hleroglyphlca, quoting two of cnir poet'i odei^ where be ealla 
to bit attcndanlA for garla^ndi, remarki^ '' Couiitat l^tiur 
lloreaJ corunM ^mHU vt iMrUtiatiiiUi in Kymg^oilo cooTenlre, 
norii AUtem cAplentibiu et phllojKjphlam tufTuctantitotu.*'' — " It 
appeara that wrcAtlui of dowera were adapted fur pMti and 
rerelleri at UaoqULot*, but Uf n.o meanj IjecamethnM whn had 
preteniloni to wisdom and pbUo«opbj " On thit principle, 
Id hli )A2d chapter, he dlicoirera a refinetn«iiit Ui Virgil, 
deftcrlbbiff the gatfland of ttjH poet allenui, ai fallen oCT; 
iHiiXch dlttinfulthet, he thkiki, tbo divine Intoxlaaion of 
Sllenu* rrom that of common drunkards, who alwaji wear 
their cron-ni wbMo th«y drink. Such it the ** Labor ineptl^ 
aTum " of comtnentatori t 
« He ttiii can kiu Ur goltiet't brim ; ^.] Wine U pre- 



A 




MOORE*S WORKS. 



ODE L1V.» 

MKTHTNKa, the pictured bull we see 

k amorouii Jove — it must be he I 

How fondly blest lie s<?€'ins to bear 

That f&lrest of Pheenician fair! 

How proud he breasU the foamy tidt?^ 

And apiimfl the hillowy surge aside I 

Could any beast of vulgar vein 

Uodauiited thus defy the main? 

No : he descends from climes above, 

He looks the God« he breathes of Jove I ^ 



ODK LV.» 




Whii«i ve invoke the wreathed spritig, 
Resplendent rose I lo thee well sing : * 



icr1b«<l by (lideni, u an n^celleot medidnv Tor old foen t 
*' Quod TH^doi et humorlhu* cKpletoi c»lcf»ctAt» Ac. i" but 
N«tur« WM An^crecin"* phyikian. 

There {• a proirerb In Erlpliiu, u quoted by Athena; ui. 
whkli My*, " Ibat wJoe makci an old cium daore, wbether be 
wOl or not/' 

■ " Thli rMJ« it wrlttMt upon % pfrture which rcprcteated 
thfl rape of K«rop«,*' — Madame Dactrr, 

It ncMy probably have been m drtcriptlon of one of thoia 
«alDi, whkh tb« SidonUnt itruck o(T fn honour of Euroiia^ 
r gp r tK ntlni a woinan cmrrked acroii the ■(>» by a, bull. Thui 
Natall* Comei, 1iti«vHl. cap. 33. " SIdonll ntimiinuta cum 
fcEiDioi taurl dimo laiMente ac toare tnuiirrotaot^ cuderuat 
In 9^m booorais ** Zn cbe llttto triWtiM' upon U»t goddew of 
fljrria, aurlbiitttd vvty IklMly to IJucim, tlieiw It ■•ntioo of 
this cola« and of ■ teinplt dedicated by U)« Syonlini to 
Altar t§, wIhno lOnie, It apjiedn, confoundrd wUb Europa. 

The poM Ma*diui bai l«fl a very beautiful Idyl on the story 
of Europa. 

* X« ; kt ilt»cendf from cUmft above, 
m lo(iA§ tJk< Gwi> he Itmttkei qf Jove!} Tbiu Moa- 
chua:-^ 

The God forgot hlm««1f, hi* heaven, for love, 
And a bulJ'i fofm belied Lb' almlichty Jove, 
a Tbi« ode la a brUliant pancf^rfc on the iro»e. " All an- 
U^utfy (Myi Bani«*> baa produl''l^d Ofjlh^ng mate bmutiniL" 
Fraoa the Idea of peculiar vKccltetice, wbkh the anck^nu 
■Haebad to thti flower, arotv a pretty proref blal expre*«iun« 
UMrt by ArtttophanM, according U> Suldaa, ^at* ^' Ufnmmt, 
** You hare «p«jJten roaea/* a pbra«« eofnewhai timiUf to the 
** dire dim Spurelte* " of the Freaeli. In tbo iame id«*or em* 
oe11«n«e ori«ln4Urd. t doulu not. m Tery cuiioua applkalkMi of 
Hm irat4^aJia, for mhkb the ritqialaltif* r««der may cooault 
<liiilwtmia ufMENi tho opItbAlMataa of oar poet, vltere U la 
faitrodiiced Id tbo itMiianco of Theodomi. If latitua, In one 
of hli eli^et» calli hl« mlitraa* hU rote: — 
Jma ta l||ltur ruraui timeo, fbrmoauU. jlani te 
((}uld trepidaa ?) teneo i lam, twm, l« tCMO. Off. 8. 
Koo 1 aceio m^f elup thoe, daotoH, 
Willi U llMre now, ea eanli. tluNi fearaat? 



Whoie breath perfumes th* Ol jmptoa bowers •, 

Whose Tirgin blush » of chastened dye, 

Ettebttnts so much our mortal eye. 

When pleasure's spriug-tide season glows. 

The Graces love to wreatbe the rose ; 

And Venus, in its fresh^hlown leaves,^ 

An emblem of herself peroetv«s* 

Oft hiith the poet's magic timgiie 

The rose's Mr luxuriance sung *, * 

And long the Muses, heavenly maids, 

Have reared it in their tuneful shades. 

When, at the early glance of room, 

It sleeps upon the glittering thorn, 

*Tis sweet lo dare the tangled fence, 

To cull the timid floweret iheaoe, 

And wipe with tender hand awaj 

The tear that on its blushes lay I 

'Tis sweet to hold the infant stems, 

Yet dropping with Aurora's gems^ 



Ag»tn iheut lonflDg arm« Infold tbet^ 
Again, my ro«e. again I bold Ibe*. 
ThU, Liie moit of the tcrmi of afld^rment In ibe modnv 
Latin poeti, Li takm from Plautut ; they *ere vulgar cod 
collo(;[ulal In hli time, but are among the elvganclet of iht* 
modern Latlnliti. 

Faaaeratlut alludei to the ode twforo ua, to the beilotdof of 
hti poem tm the Itoae t — 

Carmine dtgna roaa eat ; Toriem csoeretiir nt tllsm 

Tclui a^guti ccclnlt testudine vatea. 
« Rtfptendmt ro§et Ut thee tre'U trngf] t have paftttd 
over the line #» fnuifM «vlu juhJutup, which la corrupt in lh(» 
oriidinal reading, and bai been vrry little fmprovvd by Um 
anaolator*, ] ihould luppoae It to he an interpolation, if II 
were not for a Ui»e which ot^uri afterward* : fk^t ht ^mm 

* Amd rtmu*. i» iitJ^rewM-bto^tn teartt. #«>.] Dclleau, In a 
note upon an old Errnch poci^ quoting tiie original Here 
m^^i^nm t' titktpAm, tfantlatefl It, "comme lee dftkea ct 
mlgnardUei de Venua.*' 

' t}/t kaJA the poet^t m^e tmgtu 
TAe rmc't fair imjtmrkmeg gtmg { ^.} The folio wing la 
a rragment of the Loitilaii poetee*. It ii cited to the roounce 
of Addllei Tatkii, who appcara to have re«olv«d tiie oiamten 
Into proM. El rmt atlirir «lUiir i Zm led^pw 0mrtXmt *• 
jM** i>« T«ff Mt9tm iCWjAjm. rue trwt m*rftM, <p » f i oyXw^MA* 
afiaA^iar «»9i««, XufumH ifi4^^a«, mmXikm antaiveai* Efa»ew 
WMJ, AfK«ili«i|t «c«{(k4j, ivi^dtn f^kkmt nift^t iwsit^wif Wi«o- 
Am( Tft/fm^ ra vivwAm rw Zi^^f y\tM* 

If Jove wotiUl gl*« the leafy bowrra 
A queen for ail their worM of Oawen^ 
Tbc roae would he the choice of Jovo, 
And bluah, the queen ofeti'ry grovo* 
Swaetctt cliild of H'r>^pi^.g morning. 
Gem, the vnt uf earth adorning. 
Eye of gardena, light of lawni, 
NuTfUng of koft tummer dawni i 
Love'a own earllftt aigh it tyroathotk 
BeautyH brow with lustre wn 
And, to young 3^|ih>r'i narm i 
Sprra<J» abrn^d Iti verdant Ireaaee^ 
Till, bluthlng wHh the wantofra play, 
ttt rheeh wrara er-n a richer ray 1 



ODES OF ^VNACBEON. 



37 



Ajid firoh iohale the spicj sigb« 
TIkat from the weeping biuU arise. 

When rrrel reigiu, when mirth a high. 
And Bacchus beams in every eyes. 
Our racy fillets scent exhsle. 
And filL with balm the fauntiog gale. 
There*! nonght in nature bright or gay, 
Whcfe roses do not shed th(?ir ray. 
When morning paints the orient skies, 
ifcr fingers barn with roseate dye$ ; ^ 
roang nymphs betray ihe rose's hue, 
0*er whiteft arms it kindles through. 
tu CytheTca*s form it glows. 
And mingles with the living snows. 

The rote diftU^ a healing balm. 
The beating puise of pain to calm ; 
Preserres the cold inumed clay, ^ 
And mocks the Testige of decay : ' 
And when at length, in pale decline. 
Its florid beauties fade aud pine, 
Sweet as in youth, its balmy breath 
Diffiisea odoar even in death I * 
Oh ! whence could such a plant have sprung? 
Listen, •— for thus the tale is sung. 

t WHbfn mormimg p0timt» (Atf oriemt ikkw^ 
ttrrjimgtrw Swm wiiJi rowtnJf tfyet ; t*0 hi thi» orlgirwJ 
ha«» hn c«UMi«r4t«« tit* mAny epiitiPU oT b««uty, borrowed 
frooi roMB, vbldi *«re UMtl bj Ibe poets, «'<^« ^** rv^i m . 
We &tm Out, poHa wsr* dignJioA in Cmh-cc wiih ihe titl« 0/ 
w^m : 9Ttn Vbm cardcM Aa«er«oii, who lived but (or lore nad 
■•JMftiMwwiMi^ «u callni bjr Flato tbe vIm Auacreou — 
*• Ml h«c tifflwitls qiaondaiu." 
s fVie st fw i tke wW ijmi^vaI * /#iy, Sfc.] Hr br f • allude* to 
ai*«f tbc raw in enibalroio^; and, |i«jrhftpi <ai SAmei 
I, Id tbs rofy ungii>«it with which Venus aooJuted the 
of liectar. — Homer'* Iliad ^tr. It maj likewlae regard 
of puUiiig garliindt of roi«i ou th« dead, 
Tll«to. lii», m. 7*2. 
— M certls^ ht veri» bonore lotuto 

«rtui, potriAque in Acde rvponunt 



Cprpm odarmtum. 
WhtfTt " writ honor ,•* ibougfa It mean rrery kbid of a>jweri, 
mmf tMOi more particular I7 to refer to the ro*e, irhfch our 
fO«l In aaother ode c«lli ia^tcr auA^^ws. Wc read. In the 
ibmifliyllks of Ploriut, UbJ?. that lomc of the ai^rienU 
BMi lo order In thcfr willt, that rosi>i should be uinually 
MStteradOB tbftr tocDbs» and Picrius hat oildurcd (ome te- 
Ipatdml (turripCioiu to thia purpose. 

• d^ MOdf tAe vetlt'gr *Jdrcnjf ,-] When he say 1 thai tit is 
io««r firrrailt over time Itself, he slill alludej to its effii^arf 
le tiith^iiiif^f CtsnerS poneret Ofsa ro>i. Propert. lib. L 
^iV> 17')* Of ptrhapi to the «ubt«iucnt Idea of Ut fragrant^ 
t u rrlflwf U« be«it>- ; for he can t«arc«lj^ moan to praise for 
^aratloo Htm "otoilum brrret ffore* " of the rose. Fliito- 
finCat ennpara this flower with love^ and says, that they I Kith 
4^tlwhifliiene8oftime; xfMi« Ji Mm E^a^, svrt ^tl* «Ssf> 
UMbrtuaaK^j lbs itanilltside lies tint in their duration, but 



« Smtei OS ot youths III /m/jm^ hrratM 
DiffmBft 9domv f^n in 4f4iih '] Thua Casper Darlaui, in 
Ida Rltuf Nuptiantni t 



When^ humid, Arom the silTery stream, 
BffuKing beauty's warmest beam* 
Venus appeared, in flushing hueib 
Mellow'd by ocean's briny dews \ 
When, in the ftarry courts above. 
The pregnant brain of mighty Jove 
Disetos*d the njmph of asnre glance. 
The nymph who shakes the martial lance j- 
Then, then, in strange eventlhl boor. 
The earth prodnc'd an infant flower. 
Which sprung. In bloshlag glories drest. 
And wanton'd o*er its psient breait 
The gods beheld this brilliant birth. 
And haird the Ko8e, the boon of earth \ 
With tii^^xsj- dropt, a ruby tide. 
The sweetly orient buds they dyed, > 
And bade them bloom, the flowers divine 
Of him who gave the glorious vioe j 
And bade ihem on the spangled thorn 
EiLpond their bosoniB to the mom. 



ODE LVl.t 



He, who instrnets the 3 oatlLful crew 
To bathe them tn the brimmer's dew, 

Ambroilum late rosa liuic quoque ipargil odofrm, 
Ctim fluit. aut multo lan^ida sole Jacct. 
Nor thcu the rose ita odour loftea. 

When all itj fluihinf t 
Nor leti ambrosial balm i 
When withcr'd by the lolar eye. 

* %%'ith nectar dropi, a rultjf tt'4r^ 

The ttoeeiiff orient bttd* their rfy*^* he.\ The authnr of 
ibe " PerrlgilluTn Vnnrrii" (a poeni attrlbtited to Calulluii^ 
the stjlo of %hich apf«ars to me to hare atl the UlKHired 
liisuriaoee of a much later period) ascrittes the tiocture of 
the rose to the blood from the wound of AdonLs — 

— roue 

Fus* npHno de cmore — 
■ceordlng to the eniendatton of Ltpsius. In the fullowfog 
e'plgram this hue U diJerf^ntly accounted for : — 

Ilia qnidem studloM mum defenderc Adonlm, 
GmdtTiii (tricto quetn petit etise ferox, 

Afllxit durit resttfia c»ca roietit, 
Al!baq,u« dirino plcla cruore rois est. 
■yVliile the ^muitour^d queen of joy 
Flirt to protect her lovely boy» 

On whom thitjealniu war-god rushes ; 
She treads upon a tliomed row. 
And nblle the wautid with crimson Aows^ 

The SDowy in w' ret feels her blood, and btiishei 1 

• " Compare with this alegunt ode the verses of Ui^ lib. U 
• die Welnlejc,' " - Dege^. 

This appears to be one of the hjiuns which were sung at 
the aniurersary festival of the viutage; one of the nriXuffAi 
b^rM, «ii mir jjoet himic If terms tbeTO In the flily'niuth ode. 
We catsnot help feclJng a sort of reverenm for these classic 
relics ^f the rcll|{iD» of antiquity. Horsca may be iup|)os«>d 
to h.iTe written the nloeteentb ode of hit second hi:fok, and 
the twentj-flflh of the third, far some bocchaaalian crle' 
bra*. ion of this kind. 



4 



38 



MOORE'S WORKS. 



And Xmle, uncloy'd by ridi exocMCf, 
AM the blLss that wine possessefl; 
Hci who mspirea the youth to bound 
EliLStic throQgh the dancers rounds ^ 
Bacehusp the god again is here, 
Aad leatls tilong the blushing yeuri 
The blushing year with vmtagi! teems. 
Ready to shed those cordial fltreams. 
Which, sparkling in the cup of luirth. 
Illuminate the sons of earth 1 < 

Then, when the ripe and vermil wine»- 
Blest infant of the pregnant vine, 
%Vhicli DOW in mellow clusU*rK swells, — 
Oh ! when it bynto ilA roseate eells, 
Brightly the joyona stream shall flow, 
To tmlsom every mortal woe I 
None shall he then c^ist down or weak, 
For health and joy shall light caeh cheek ; 
No heart will tbeo desponding sigh. 
For wine shall hid de^^pondenoe fly, 
Thua — till another auturaa's glow 
Shall hid another vintage flow. 



ODE t,vn,» 



Whose was the artist hand that spread 
Upon this disk the ocean's bed ? * 

* H'kicA, iparAUng in the cnp qf mirtM, 

tUmtmmaU the ioru qf earih f ] la tlie ori^n«l wwf9f mrr*- 
9m mt^im. Bfndattie P«ciftr thlnkt thftt thA poet here bsul 
the n«|ieQtl!ti«f Homer ]>a hit mind. CMyM«y, SIU. U, Thli 
n9fmltk§ w«« a tomethlot of «X4|uiait<i cbvm, iofiued bjr 
Ifckn Into th* wtiM of her fueffj. wbicb liwl tlie power or 
dlifMlUnf e^«ff ansletf, A French wrltar. Do Mcr^, con< 
jecturpt IhAt thit ■pull, whtch nuule thi» bowl u> beguillnf , 
WA< th« charm or Helen'* couterulioD. 8ee B«jle, art. 

* Thli od0 U a Tery anltnuted deicHpUon of « picture of 
Yimui on * diicift, which rrprptcntcd, tUs g^O(!|«t«t« in h«r firit 
pncrffwie* frotn the wave*. About tMocraturin after our 
poet wrote* th« pencil of the artlit A pellet eobcllUhcd thit 
iiKm«cC la hta fsmoiu paliitliif of the Venus Aiuuijonic<t^» 
Um n««d of wbkfa, as PUjif Inlbnat ai» waa the beautiAil 
CampMiw, glrfn to him hf Atexander \ thoutb, acconUng to 
NatAlli Camei, lib. tVL csap^ 16., It wai Phryuv who ut to 
A I (el lift for the Tace and breut of tbk Venu«« 

Tfa<0re «ri> a A?w blemiiHcs (n the roading of the ode berore 
fli, which hare ineiieticed Fabirr, Iternc, Druiick, Ac* to 
I the whole pa«m a* tj>uhout> But, " mm 4»go pau- 
1 think U U q.ult« betuttlVil eouu|h lo 



I'pom thit dttk Ike MiMii*i ke4f\ Th« atrupfncit of ««• 
Mr ««fii>#i «>«rrit U flnaljr evprsMlirff «f ludden adml ration^ 
mA li oa««f Ihoee bmnitiiie which we rannot but Admife In 
, thouKb, bj rrwqucQl Imllatlun, tb^jr arc tiaw 
r and iisURf(r«f*tv«« 



And, in a flight of fancy, high 

As aught on earthly wing ean fly, 

Depicted thia&, in semblance warm* 

The Queen of Love's voluptuous form 

Floating along the silv*ry se^ 

In beauty's nuked majesty \ 

Oh I he halh given th' cnaniour'd sight 

A witching hauquet of delight. 

Where, gleaming through the waters clear, 

Glinjp&es of undreamt channs appear. 

And all that mystery loves to screen. 

Fancy, like Faith, adores ntiseen. * 

Light as the leaf^ that on the hrecxe, 
Of summer skims the glassy seal, 
She floats along the oce«n's breast, 
Which undulates in sleepy rest j 
While stealing on, she gently pillows 
Her bofiom ou the heaving billows. 
Her b<»M>m, like the dew -wash d rosc,^ 
Her neck, like April's sparkling inowt. 
Illume the tii|uid path she traces. 
And bum within the stream's embraces. 
Thus on she moves, in languid pride, 
Encircled by the azure tide. 
As some fair lily o'er a bed 
Of violets bends its graceflil head. 

Beneath their queen's inspiring glance^ 
The dolphins o'er the green sea dance. 
Bearing in triumph young Desire, * 
And infant Love with smiles of Are ! 

< And eU ikai ntytttrp lore4 to Hrtm^ 
Faticy, Uke FcitA, od&rtM mmteen, fc.] Tl>e picture b«*« 
ha* all the delkate character oi the leml-reducta Venus, and 
aflbrdj a happj ipednen of whai the poetry of paavfon o^kf 
to be - glouriiiji but t broach a vetl, joid ataalta^ m^vm Iks 
hcwrt from conccalnt^^nt. few of the andsats htam » 
tbti mixltrtti' of dc»criptloii« whJeh, like the foldoa « 
hung oTer Jupiter and Juno, li Imperriout to ereij I 
but that of tn\cf. 

' Her bo§om, like the denr-wttik'd ro9e, ^c] " T«3mi* C*ajri 
an anooj-moui aonotstorli 1* a ^hltnttcal cf'^tl'i*'* for the 
bo«o». " Neither Catutlui nor Gray hare been of hi* oploloo. 
The rorrorr b*« the cvprNiloa, 

En blr La roteli latet paplllU 
And tb« lati«r, 

Lo ! whtn the roiy-bowmi*d houri, Ae. 
Crottuf, a nodem l^tlnltt, might Uxlaed be cwotund Ibf 
too Tagoo m OMot ttiF rpUbet " ro«)r," when ha aiipUai H la 
th« ar«ti— ** e roadi ocuUa." 

* •^— Ifouttg Desire, %e.} tn the ortilnal 'I#Mfv, 

who wai tii« Mtne deity with Joeui Binoog the Romaau. 
Aurclliu Augwellu* Ha* a poem l^giutihig.. 
Inrltat ollni Dacchui ad c(Fnani tuo* 
Comon, J«cuin. CupidlDcm. 
Whleh PameU tuu clo»v\j Imltau^ ; _ 

G*j Bacchui, liking Ettcourt*i wine, 

A ciohle DMwl bet poko as ; 
And for th« flt»eita tlitk wore to dlae. 
Brouffht Coidtia, Love, and Joeua, Ae. 



A 



1 


ff 




ODES OF ANACREOK. W 






WhSft^ glamamg tlimigli iht nher wvtm. 


Away« deeorer ! why ponnmg 




TW tfiHi of tkc hrinj c«tcs 


Caaaelcas tbos my hearTs udoaig t 






Aromsd the patap t^cir gambolft plaj. 


Sweet i* the toog of amorous fire, 






Ab4 gleam along tbe watery wmy. 


8veet the tight that thrill the lyia ; 
Ob r tweeter fin* than aU the gold 








Thy wiagt eaa walk, thy minet can hold. 








Wetl do I know thy aitt, thy wilea— 








They withered LoTe*t yoong wreathed Ruiles ; 






oi>B Lirm.^ 


And o'er his lyre such darkoeat thed* 
t tboQght its soul of coog wts fledl 






Wm Gdd, aa fleet at aephrr^ pioion, 


They dash'd the wineHjop, that, by him. 






Saeapea tike aaj ftitblcas mmioo^ * 


Wit fiil'd with kisses to the brim. « 






Attd fliea me (aa lie fiiea me CTer),« 


Go — fiy to haunU of sordid men, 






D(» I pofioe liim? acrer, aererl 


But come not near the bard sgmin. 






Ka, lee tlie iUae doerter go. 


Thy glitter in the Mu»e's shade, 






For wlko eoold eoort bia dtreat foe ? 


Scares from her bower the tuneful maid ; 






Bat, wbcD I ftel mj Qglilen'd mind 


And not for worlds would 1 forego 






Ho more bf groveilliig gold coofin*d« 


That moment of poetic glow. 






ThcB loooe I aU nicli eOngiog cares. 


When my full soul^ in Fsucy't iHvam, 






Aad eaat tbcm io the vagnoit airm. 


Foun o'er the lyre its swelling theme. 






TWd ftel h too, the Muse^ spetl. 


Awayt away ! to worldlings henee. 






And vake to life the dulcet •bell, 


Who feel not ihii diviner sense ; 






Wkich* mua'd once more, to beauty tlngi. 


GiTP gold to thote who lo?e that pest, — 






While lore ditaolvea along the &trmg« I 


Bat leave the poet poor atMl blest. 






Bat fcarcet J has mj heart been taught 










Horn little Gold deserves a thought. 








Wbeit, to ! the ihi^e returns onee more. 


ODE LIX.* 






Aad with him wiftf delicioiu store 








Of racy wine, wbote genial art 


Ripstt't) t^ the solar beam» 






In afaunber seals the anxious hearL 


Kow the mddy clostert teem. 






Agata he tries my sool to sever 


In oner baskets borne along 






Fran lota and song, perhi^ for ever 1 


By all the festal vintage throng 






* t tmm Mlomd B«niM** arranftniMt of thU o.l«, which. 


ai Ik omals dlftliMti^btit the rest doet not bear ctta^ 








tfocu 






mmrttm tumm matand order. 


* Tke§ diuk'd the Vffmt-cmp. thai, % krm. 






» jrs«» GiM, mtJUtt M ttfiHr'i^imtom, 


WMjUTd ufUk kiaet to the brim ,] Orifinal : ^ 






Etrnpn lOe m^JkMMittt mimiom, fc.] In Um oriftiu] 


TTwla^ '«VtV4 i^ 3h ■ MAJTB^ltf 














aa^i^w 9-«^rida.AJa- stpriH'* 














«r LoKAiB'to ilttk^Mi^ llMfl* ii, t think. * •imiUr pt»jr upon 


Twdvetj, however, like AnAcreon, but Importinf Che love- 






*• v«fC •hmn tli# Mknrwn of Chrytlpp^ii an> csU«l 


pblltr«t of (be wltcbet, Bj ** cups of khaei " our port nuf 








aUude to a farourite fEllantrf arooDg tiie aDcicnti. fif 






■MM vsvitd tbsB our own t mmm of the bc«t srs tbote rs- 


drii»kli(ff when the lip« of tbdr miitreMe* bad (oucbcKl the 






•svaf4 d Dkvnts. 


brim; — 

^' Or 1es*e a kUi withia the eop, 






•Jt^^iamt{m»keJUmmee9tr,}^^^ Au%\m*t fu 9*»^ 


And I'll not uk for wi<i«." 






fm. rU§ tnem of WmwOm ha* slrMd^ bwn taken notice 


Aa tn Ben Jonion*i tnDilation from FbiliMtraSui; and Lu- 








ctan h«i s eooeelc upoa the Mme lilea^ "*Im Mmt wnm Jtf»m 






mMf ^tUm* Ihac a w OM of the mMay imircc* of th«t 


mm pkm** ** that joo maj at once both diiok aiid kftt/* 






ffHTiMfte iWlMUtj which far«a£heil tUraii^h tlw ttjle of 


• The title Ewtkmm if^n. which Harne* hai irircn to thit 






a^^lMi. B«t Gyrsid, V«C, ^oel. Dial. ^. It •Ul not be 


ode, I* bf no tneafti appropriate. We hai^e alreadj had ono 






•■M UmI dit« if ■ Bfldiankal armmeul toy anj one who can 


of thote hfmni (ode fi6.). hut thii b a de*crlplk)n of the *in- 






IM Ito <a«rni tn Uiom Unei of Catulla*, w bcre be eonipl*ln« 


uce ; and the title m imt, which It bean Ln the VaUc40 






ttT 1^ IcAWlty eT Ms iwlamM, t^hU : — 








Cfl^l. LcabU iMMtra, LeabU tlU, 


Degen, in Ihe true f{>iHt of Utcnrf tceptldni. acnAts Cfaai 






DW Urttt*. ^iMDi CttuJIm wum, 








Fhis qasni •• stfiM ftoo* amawH omnei, 


Mujrfclon ; ■> " Don amo te, Sabtdl, aec pouum dicere qosre.** 






Ktmr.ac. 


Bat thia It far frnin beirj^ HitiAflictory eritici«at 


J 


I 


^^^ 







40 



MOORE'S WORKS. 



Of rosy youths and virgins fair, 
Rip€ as Ihc melting fhiits they bear. 
Now, now they press the pregnant grapes. 
And now the captive stream escapes. 
In fervid tide of nectar gushing. 
And for it* bondage proudly blushing! 
While, round the vat's inijiurplt'd brim. 
The choral song, the vintage by tun 
W rosy youths and virgins fair, 
Steals on the charm 'd and echoing air. 
IMark, how they drink, i*ilh all their eyes, 
The orient tide that sparkling flies, 
The infant Bacchus, biirn in mirth, 
While Love stands by, to bail the birth. 

When he, whose verging years decline 
As deep into the vale as mine, 
When he inhales the vintuge-eupf 
His feet, new -winged from earth spring np. 
And as he danees, the fresh air 
Plays whispering through his silvery hair. 
Meanwhile young groups whom love invites. 
To joys ev'n rivalling wine*8 detigbts. 
Seek, arm in arm, the shadowy grove. 
And there, in words and looks of love. 
Such as fond lovers look and say* 
FiM the sweet moonlight hours away* > 



ODE I.X.* 



AwAt.K to life, my sleeping shell. 

To Phcsbus let thj numbers swell ; 

And though no glorions pri«e be thine. 

No Pythian wreath around thee twine. 

Yet every hour is glory '■ hour 

To him who gathers wisdom's flower. 

Then wake thee from ihy voiceless slumbers. 

And to the soft and Phrygian numbers, 



• Th'ti^ well »rquaii)e«^ wtlh rhf oHglnftl npfU hjinJly tie 
rptnliulrd thai:, In tHcte few coodudiuf trries, 1 havelhoujKhl 
rijE^it to fire onlj th« ffeovnU inmiliig of mj author^ katlof 
lh« datallt untouchod. 

• Thii hpan Co Apollo li rappo««d not to h4ve be^n wrtitoti 
hy Anacrooot Mid It t« undoubCedlj ralhvr a tubtimer flight 
than ih« TeUn wins Is ■ecmtomed to loar. BiK, in a po«t 
of whoM works to imall a prapoitloa bai nnclk«d lu, dlvvr- 
tltjr o( itylo l« bj no means a (af* eril«rion.. If w« ko«w 
Itoraco tMt a» a tatlrtft, «hould we raf My brlk%o there coutd. 
ilwvt) vucb MiinMtlon In hi» Ijrni ? Sai<l«t lays th«t our prtH 
wrotiv iDjrniDt, aod thli p«f 1m|m li one of th«m. We e«Q prr- 
<^lvo Iq whAt fto att«r«d and Imperfect ttat« hit worka are at 
prPMni , wtirn we tfnd a lehotiaM upon Hnrace dclng aa ode 
froni the Uitrtt tiook of Aaaercon. 

• And k0Uf tkf ttwUr. Iftmm nuttd 

FHw tttmM mg l» tkt kitidtf iJktdf, #rO Original t — 






Which, tremblingly^ my lips repeat. 
Send echoes from thy chord as sweeL 
*Tis thus the s^an^ wiih fading notes, 
Down the Cayster's current floats, 
While amorous breezes linger round, 
And sigh responsive sound for aomid. 

Mii*e of the Lyre I illiirac my dream. 
Thy Ph rebus is my fancy *» theme j 
And hallowed is the harp I iK-ur, 
And hallow'd is the wreath I wear, 
Hallow'd by hinit the god of lays, 
Wio modulates the choml maae. 
I ftiug the love which Daphne twin*d 
Around the godhead's yielding mind ; 
I bing the blushing Daphne's flight 
From this ethereal »on of Light; 
And how the tender, timid maid 
Flew trembling to the kindly shade, ' 
BeB]gn*d a form, alas, Uya fair, 
And grew a verdant laurel tliere ; 
Whose leaves, with sympathciie thrill, 
In terror »eem*d to treml^le still I 
The god piirfiu*d, with wing'd desire j 
And when his hopes were all on fire. 
And when to clasp the nymph be thought, 
A lifeless tree was all he caught *, 
And, stead, of sighs that pleasure heavea. 
Heard but the west-wind in the leaves 1 

But, pause, my »onI, no more, no more — 
Enthusiast, whither do I fwxir? 
This sweetly-mad'ning dream of sool 
Hath hurried nie beyond the goal. 
Whj should I sing the mighty darU 
Which fly to wound celestial hearts, 
When ah, the song, with sweeter tome, 
Can tell the darts that wound my own? 
Still be Anacreon, still inspire 
The descant of the Teian lyre : * 



T« fttr i««^lt/>l airtfiv, 

I find tKp word mitr^tf hc^re ht* a double force, aa U a1«o 
ttignlfief thikt *' omnkutn parcDtcm, qiMra uuortut Suma. ht. 
Ac" (84V Marttal.) In order to confirm tliili import of the 
word hvri*. tliote » bo are curloue la new rn»dingj,niaj plaioe 
Um itop after ^nm, tbua ; ^ 

Te ^1 iJtn^i«v>i murt*» 

* 8im be Anmcteim^ thli rnsptre 
TAir dfBvamt a/ tk^ Tdtm if re : ] Tb« otrlglQal U Ta» ktm^ 
«fl«rrw puf§m, t tiave trantlalcd It uoder the iupyoifllva 
that ttiro hjvm kt bf Anacre'jo ; though, I f«ar, froai thU *wf 
line, that hit claim to H can irarcety b« eupportt^. 

Icaeoo given m \}f the lyrlM ; and If. in portrjr. a ftlmple ei*- 
ganee of «entlinetit« enriched by the laoet ptayfiil IkiJlclllea of 




ODES OF ANACREON. 



41 



SdU let the meetar^d immben float, 
Distilling lore in erery note ! 
And when same yonth, whose glowing tool 
His felt the Psphian star's control^ 
When he the liquid lays shall hear, 
His heart will flatter to his ear. 
And drinking there of song diyine, 
Banqoet on intellectual wine 1 1 



Youth's endearing charms are fled ; 
Hoary locks deform my head ; 
Bloomy graces, dalliance gay. 
All the flowers of life decay. ^ 
Withering age begins to trace 
Sad memorials o*er my hce ; 



bDC7. be a chmnn which fDTitec or deterret imltatioo, where 
akaO we ftod foch a guide m Anacreon ? In moralitj. too, 
with tome little rcaerre, ve need aot Uush, I thinli, to follow 
is his footatept. For, if his long be tlie langnage of his 
brmrt. though laxorioas and relaxed, he was artlets and bene- 
Toirat ; and who would not forgire a few Irregularities, when 
atooed for by Tirtoes m rare and so endearing? When we 
think of the sentiment In those lines : — 
Away I I liate the sIand*rous dart. 
Which steals to wound th* unwary lieart, 
h-rm many are there in the world, to whom we would wish to 
say, Tw A »»* ^ M » tw fuftm I 

^ Here ends the last of the odes in the Vatican MS., whose 
azjthority helps to coairm the genuine antiquity of them all, 
cboiagfa a tew hare stolen among the number, which we may 
imitate in attritNiting to Anacreon. In the Uttle essay pre- 
fixed to this translation, 1 obserred that Barnes has quoted 
this manuscript incorrectly, relying upon an imperfect copy 
of it. which Isaac Vossius liad taken. I sliall just mention 
two or three instances of this inaccuracy — the first which 
oorur to me. In the ode of the Dore, on tlie words Urt^n 
rv^umJur^r*. he says, ** Vatican MS. #vrs««^. etiam Pris- 
ciano invito: " but the MS. reads rMaMOv^*, with trvrmta^m 
interlined. Degen too, on the same line. Is somewhat in 
error. In the twenty-second ode of this series, line thir- 
tenitb, the MS. has tsmh with ms interlined, and Barnes im- 
potea to it the reading of tu^. In the fifty-serenth, Une 
twelfth, he professes to hare presenred the reading of the 
MS. Aimiv^ m r %^ «or«, while the latter has mXmXn/Mut 
%' tr' fltms. Almost all the other annotators have trans- 
planted these errors from Barnes. 

s Tlie intrusion of this mdancholy ode, among thceardess 
levities of our poet, reminds us of the skeletons which the 
Egyptians used to hang up in tlteir banquet-rooms, to incul- 
cate a tliought of mortality even amidst the dissipations of 
mirth. If it were not for the beauty of Its numbers, the 
Teian Muse should disown this ode. ** Quid habet lUins, 
ilUos qos spirabat amores ? " 
To Stobsnis we are indebted for it. 
* Bloomp graetit daiUanee goff^ 
AU tkeflovtn ttflife deeag.l Horace often, with feeling 
and elegance, deplores the fugacity of human ei^oyments. 
See book iL ode 11. ; and thus In the second epistle, book 
11.: — 



Time has shed its sweetest bloom. 
All the future must be gloom. 
This it is that sets me sighing ; 
Dreary is the thought of dying! < 
Lone and dismal is the road, 
Down to Pluto*s dark abode ; 
And, when once the joumey*s o*er. 
Ah ! we csn return no more I ^ 



ODE LXII.« 



Fill me, boy, as deep a draught. 

As e*er was fiird, as c*er was quaff *d ; 

But let the mater amply flow. 

To cool the grape*s intemperate glow ;? 

Let not the fiery god be single. 

But with the nymphs in union mingle. 



Singula de nobis annl prcdantur cuntes ; 
Eripuere jocos, venerem, cooTiria, ludum. 
The wing of every passing day 
Withers some blooming joy away ; 
And wafts from our enamour'd arms 
Ttie banquet's mirth, the virgin's charms. 

< Dreary ii the thought of d^ng! ^c] Regnier. a Ubertlne 
Fr«)ch poet, has written some sonnets on the approach of 
death, foil of gloomy and trembling repentance. Chaulicu, 
however, supports more consistently the spirit of tlie Epicu- 
rean philosopher. See bis poem, addressed to the Marquis 
de Lalare— 

Plus j'approchc du terme ct molns je le redoute, &c. 

* And, when once the Journey's o'er. 

Ah! ufe can return no more!^ Sraliger, upon Catullus's 
well-known liues, " Qui nunc it per Iter, Ac.** reroarlu ch;it 
Acheron, with the same idea, is called cytf«}«r by Theocritus, 
and itt0%*i(§i*H by Nicander. 

* This ode consists of two fragments, which are to be found 
in Athencus, book x., and which Barnes, from the similarity 
of their tendency, has combined Into one. I think this a very 
justifiable liberty, and have adopted it In some otiier frag- 
ments of our poet. 

Degeo refers us here to verses of Ui, lib. Iv., "der Trin- 
ker." 
7 Bui let the water amjtlyjlota. 
To coot the grape's intemperate glows 4rc.] It was Am- 
phictyon who first taught the Greeks to mix water with their 
wine ; in commemoration of which circumstance they erect- 
ed altars to Bacchus and tlie nymphs. On this mythological 
allegory the following epigram is founded : 

Ardentem ex utero Semeles Iav6re Lyseum 

Naiades, extincto fulminis igne sacri ; 
Cum nymphls Igitur tractabilis. at sine njrmphis 
Candenti rursus fulmlne corripitur. 

PiiBius Valiriancs. 
Whidi Is, non verbum verbo,— 

While heavenly fire consom'd his Theban dame, 
A Naiad caught young Bacchus from the flame. 
And dipp'd him burning in her purest lymph ; 
Hence, still he loves the Naiad's crystal urn. 
And when his native fires too fiercely bum, 
Sedu the cool waters of the fountain-nymph. 



42 



MOORETS WORKS. 



For though the bowr» th<? gniTC of iadnest, 
NeVr let it b*? the birth of tuadnc^ss, 
No, banish from our kmrd to-night 
The revelries of rude delight ; 
To Scythiims leave these wild cxccfi«<^ 
Ours be the joy that sciothea and blesses ! 
Add while the tempenite l>owl we wreathe, 
In concert let our voices breathe. 
Beguiling every hour along 
With tiaxnioay of Aoul and song. 



ODE LICIIU 



To Lo¥e, the aofi and blooming child, 
I toiieh the harp iti descant wild ^ 
To Love, the babe of Cyprian bowers^ 
The tjoy, who breathes and blushes flowers i 
To Love, for heaven and earth adore him, 
And goda and niortala bow before him 1 



ODE LXIV.« 

Hjlbte thee, nymph, whose weU-aim'd spear 

Wouodt the fleeting mountain -deer I 

Dion^ Jove's immortal chiJd, 

HuQtress of the savage wild I 

Goddess with the sun-bright hair 1 

Listen to a jn'ople's prayer. 

Turn, to lathe's river turn* 

Th^re thy vunquish^d people mourn ! ^> 



* '* Thli frMffmrnt li pmerviHl tn Clemviii Alenatidrlniia, 
Strorn. Ith. tL wwl In Arumlut^ Co^tlect- Or«c/' — B^rme*, 
It ippejir* to have been tlw opcaJiiff of « hfinn In prftlM of 

> Tbli hrmii lo Dinna ti niml In R«ph»ftion, Thera U 
aa ftn««duU n\ uur poet, «rh<rh biu \M toinv to douht wh tether 
|i« OT«r wrote «njr mSoi of thU kifid. It kt relaliid bjr th# 
ScbollAil upon riiMUr (I»lbm1onlc. od II. t. I. m cited bf 
B«ni«i) tfiM Adaerooa bolnf aAed, why lie iddrc»a«il aU tili 
I to wocoien* am) nono to tho ddUci ? aoiwprtdt. ** Bo* 
) arft mv d«>litlf«.*' 

] hftT» •MUfflMJ, It will be MOT, la rsportlqf Ihli aixN^dote, 
Um Mni« llbertj' which t have tbonfht It rifht to Ukp In 
traatlatiiiK ■om« of ibe ddoi; mid It were to h<» viUh^yl iliAt 
tllM* UtUr iufidi^htltt wtr» ii[way« ollowftblfl In inlrfprvLlnf? 
tbfl wrltiati of tbo Hndknls ; thu«, wb«fi natuf« It forfottni 
Id ihm oHfiosI, In the traniliitkNt ** tsoMB niqcia fwcomt.** 

There tkff ran^ttUk'd pititftti- mumrml} L«tti#, a Tl»<*r of 
l/inla, accortllns to Htr«lK>, r«lllni Into tho MMiudor. la Itt 
a«l|lllMwrliood WM tbt dftf caU«4 UiiciiMlft. In Ikvoiir of 
I oar pool to sii p poaod to havo ■< 1rtrsi i nit tbti 
I lo Diana. It vw wrttlvn (ai MaiiOM Daei«r 



Come to Lethe's wavy shore, 
Tell them they shall mourn no more. 
Thine their hearts, their altars thine j 
Must they, Diim — must they pine ? 



ODE tXV,* 



Like some wanton filly sportmg, 

MaJd of Thract'f thou iy'st mj coorttng* 

Wanton filly 1 tell me why 

Thou trip*st away, with seomfal eye. 

And seem 'ft to think my doating heart 

Is novice in the bridling art ? 

Believe me, girl, it j* not so j 

Thou'lt And this likilful hand can throw 

The reins around that tender form^ 

However wild, however warm* 

Yes «- trust rat* I can tame thy force, 

And turn and wind thee in the course. 

Though, wasting now thy careless hours. 

Thou sport amid the herbs and flowers, 

Soon shall thou feci the rein*8 control. 

And tremble at the wish'd-for goal I 



ODE LXVU 



To thee, the Qaeen of nymphs divine. 
Fairest of all that fairest shioo j 
To thee, who rul'st with darts of fire 
This world of mortals, young Deaire I 



conlectom) on the orca«)on of lomv bttUo, In wbka Iba 
Msftieilan* tuut been dereaied. 

* Thill odo, which !■ aftdreiMd to toioe Thradlaii firl, 
exlitf In HersctklcNi, and bat bevn imitated vcrjr frrqnentlj 
by Horace, aa all the annotaiort liave remarkML Madamo 
Daclior rrj<>ct* tlit allrfory. which ran* lo ohtloiiilj ihrnaflt 
the poem, and luppnte* It Lo havo been addrcaKd Co a /OUI^ 
mare helntiglnir to FoljreratM. 

Fieriui, in the fourth boolt of hli TII«roffly|iliki, titm Ibis 
ode, and Inform ■ ua thai tl»« bortt waa the biaragljpbleil 
emblem o< pride. 

> ThU ixle It intrAducMl la the Ilomiince of Tboodofiis 
Prodromii»« and \§ thai klod of eplLlinlAiiilum whkti waa Hifig 
like A iK-olluTi at the nuplUl iMinqort. 

Amonf the maoj' worku pf the impaiiloned Aaipfdio, «f 
vlikh tiRM and Ifoorant tuperttltlmi have deprived lu, the 
loit oflieT epkhaJamium* U not oi^e f4 the leait that wed^ 
ploro. The ToDowlng tliiet are elted si s relic of uoo of thos* 



Sea Seallf er« Id hU Toetkf . cm the BpUbaUunltiRi 



J 



ODES OP AKACBEON. 



And oil t tbdo iimptul Wawtr^ to tli£c 
Who hmr'wt of Itfe Um foai^im kej, 
BiratliiTig oij KMii in ferrent prwac, 
Aiid vcftTiog wild mj Tod^e Jsji, 
For tbce, O Qiicen 1 I wmkt fb« Ijm 
For the«, tboo b1aihiB|^ T'Cxn^ Dcftire, 
Ajid ob I fov thee, Uioti nspdal Fnweri 
Come, ijid Uloiiie tliii geokl lioitr^ 

Look oo thy biridev too bappf Itojr, 
And wbile thj Ivmbcnt gUnee of Joj 
Pl»j« orer sll her blmliiag ^rhxnni, 
I>eUj moCr saaieti lier to dmu ami*, 
Before tbe lovelji trembliiig fireji 
Like m jotag trndUof, wing awilj I 
Tonit Stnloelfi, too hxppj j^oth. 
Dear to tike Qaeen ot^mmtmA trash. 
And dear to ber, wliofte jleldyig aooe 
Win mxn rengn bcr all tMne own, 
Tom to If jriUa, turn ihlne ej«^ 
Breslbc to MjrilK brcatlie th j i^Il 
To tlioie bewitcbuig bexotics torn ; 
For tlieie thej bloah, for thee they horn. 

Not more the rote* the qoBtn of iow«T% 
Ootbln^iei all the hloofn <£ bowet«^ 
TbjMi ihc oniiTmll'd fr««e dudoiei, 
The tv««te«t rote, when aU art rotes. 
Oh I maj the fan, henigni]it» ihed 
Mil blandfrt infliicDce o'er thy bed ; 
And fester there an in&nt tree, 
T^ Utoom lihe her, and tower like thee ! ■ 




tikt kff, *mg itwvr lOr XldT f ] Orlttadl bw 



001 LXVll.* 

RjCB in hliMii E proodlj leom 
The wealth of Aiiialth«a*i Irani i 
Nor abottld I aik to call ibe throat 
Of the TartesKiaa pdnee my own ; > 
To totter tbr<mgb his ts%m of ^eans 
The rietiffl of declining f eara. 
One Urtle boor of Joj to ni« 
b vonb m doll et«mirf f 



O0i LXVIIL* 

Now Heptnne*! nsonth oor di j deibrvn^ 

The anftj nifht-clood teemt with atorms | 

And aava^ winds* iofniixlr dnTni« 

Fly howUoff m the face of heaven 1 

Now, now, mj frienda, the gathering 0ood 

With roatate n jt of wine Ulome ; 

And while oor wreaths of panley ^pttwd 

Their &delcsi foUagv toaad oar he^ 

L«t*a h jmn th* ahnightj fxnrer of wine, 

And shed libations on his shrine I 



ODE h%l%.* 

TtfET wore the lotoa hand to deck 
And fko with pensile wreath each neck i 
And every gueit, to ihade his head. 
Three little fragrant cbaplets sprad i* 



' Jn 1^ Kuptltl S40f or C^ 
what * irtiQllar feivt 
to ikflt vbteb GwiltsiaBt wttribaitet u» p^- *^^ *" Hortiua 
fiBf9« voont hi, i|Bd Sot Qle cairpJEor, «C Giwett j i gn «4^ 

1 HHT iiMiit. in 7««taf . tlut tbft wiibor of du Grat^ 
tmrioH of OAi durmlar ode of Ciifullui, hii iKflcrteil a 
r beaut J tfl ctKiw rffTifi " Ut tn 
»blet li lb* npetitim of Ui« liiie» " MnltJ 
Bliii fovff f BittUfl optaviitc immH**" vltb Ufc« i,n|h| alUcf* 
ii^ of mdlj sad mttv. C«tii11tiii liiaHlf« bo««Ter< lui bcni 
mr^Xij tnjuiidgai hi hit wtrtionttfthv Ouamu «de oTSapfto; 
ha»tet Cmi«lMf<d ^i^M^ ''^-^f^-. ^^^ knitted «ll aoOa «r 



ttC IflffI vlt 




iir^ 



Arfxntfaotilai. vlw IHtC aeconliaf i 

■lul sri| fwi i and rHctt«d« leeordlfif i» Mcradotua, rifbtj . ' 

4 Thtt li cmnpoKd ei tvo fttcmnna ; Uw H^cstlHb iad [ 
«iiittr-flxit in ItvDci. Tli«r ai* bot^ fgoa^ la EHaatUoft. 

* Thm fk^BTUta tofm thli Uttl* odt^ alt dTtIiIcA arr pre. 
■errad Id Atbrpsfu. Th*T ■« the rfglitr-tBeiadf •rf*i«j'- 
IfUi* asd dfiilT-tfaird, La Vmnm^ 

* AtdrtCTf jniM<; toala<f lj!i IhmC 

gfre ad Idea of ibe tuxarkiUi *filmatl«i In vbiciv f^Ur^m 
man h^4 tqr tiw uirlt^nti « retain an afwciM* cil a courtn^A, 
vfao. Id ordcT to fTvtlfr ^br*a lorcn^ wtibvut 1««t1ai frntim 
tar JnkMir vitfa aai^ «r lb«m. p*a a kiia to ow. kt tb* athar 
irlafc after htr, and pot a iarlawi «a tbs brw of iJkc tblrt ; 
K ^at c«eh vsi aatlifltd irUb bit Uimv, wd laltcf^ 
biiBKtf «1tb \bf pnllFmn. 

Tbti drc^meaaee ntmldM wrj mad} (ht ntiact arAav 
of cba linaaaM a# ftarark da Maiftiii^,, a irontedeer. Saa 
L'Hlilaln Uti^rain dra 1>eabadaw«, Tha radfitf to aeg. 
oftba FMril* fallBtria of cblmlir. 



44 



MOORE'S WORKa 



And one was of th* Egyptian leaf, 

The rest were roses, fair and brief : 

While from a golden yase profound. 

To all on flowery beds around, 

A Hebe, of celestial shape, 

Pour'd the rich droppings of the grape I 



ODE LXX.i 



A BROKEN cake, with honey sweet. 
Is all my spare and simple treat : 
And while a generous bowl I crown 
To float my little banquet down, 
I take the soft, the amorous lyre. 
And sing of love*s delicious fire : 
In mirthfid measures warm and free, 
I smg, dear maid, and sing for thee I 



ODE LXXI.» 



With twenty chords my lyre is hung. 
And while I wake them all for thee. 

Thou, O maiden, wild and young, 
Disport'st in airy levity. 

The nursling fawn, that in some shade 
Its antler'd mother leaves behind, > 

Is not more wantonly afraid, 
More timid of the rustling wind I 



ODE LXX1I.4 

Fare thee well, perfidious maid, 
My soul, too long on earth delay'd. 



1 Compiled bj Barnet, from Atben«a«, Heph«stion, and 
Artealiu. S«e Barnet, 80th. 

* ThU I have formed fhmi the eighty-fourth and eighty- 
fifth of Barnes*! edition. The tvo fragments are found in 
Athenaeus. 

s The nmrst*ng/aw»t that in $om€ shade 

JU amtier'd mtMrr Uopfs behind, ^c] In the original :— 
'Or If vXn MfM#rw 

A«*Al«fAM.- M« fturrfH. 

** Homed ** here, undoubtedly, seems a strange epithet ; 
lladaroe Dader howerer obsenres, that Sophocles, CalUma- 
chus, Ac. have all applied it In the very same manner, and 
she seems to agree in the conjecture of the scholiast upon 
PIndtr, that perhaps horns are not always peculiar to the 
males. I think we may with more case oooclude it to be a 
license of the poet, " Jusait habere poellam comua." 

* This AragnMot b pres an red by the schoMart upon Aristo- 
phanes, and b the efghty-ie?eath In Barnes. 



Delayed, perfidious girl, by thee. 
Is on the wing for liberty. 
I fly to seek a kindlier sphere. 
Since thou hast ceas'd to love me here 1 



ODE LXXIII.& 

Awhile I bloom'd, a happy flower, 
Till Love approach*d one fittal hour. 
And made my tender branches feel 
The wounds of his avenging stecL 
Then lost I fell, like some poor willow 
That falls across the wintry billow I 



ODE LXX1V.« 

Monarch Love, resistless boy. 

With whom the rosy Queen of Joy, 

And nymphs, whose eyes have Heaven*s hue. 

Disporting tread the mountain-dew ; 

Propitious, oh I receive my sighs. 

Which, glowing with entreaty, rise. 

That thou wilt whisper to the breast 

Of her I love thy soft behest ; 

And counsel her to learn fh>m thee. 

That lesson thou hast taught to me. 

Ah 1 if my heart no flattery tell, 

Thou*lt own Tve leam*d that lesson well I 



ODK LXXV. 



Spirit of Love, whose locks unroird. 
Stream on the breeze like floating gold ; 



* This is to be found in Hephvstlou, and Is the eighty-ninth 
of Barnes's edition. 

I hare omitted, f\rora among these scraps, a very consider- 
able fhigment imputed to our poet, BAt^ii y Eufvmvkn fuXv, Ac 
which is preserved In the twelfth book of Athensras, and Is 
the ninety-first in Barnes. If it was really Anacreon who 
wrote it, " nil ftiit unquam sic impar slbi." It Is In a style of 
gross satire, and abounds with expressions that neirer conld 
be grace^ly translated. 

* A (Vagment preserrcd by Diim Chrysostom. Orat. IL de 
Regno. See Barnes, 93. 

7 This A'agment, which is extant In AthensMU (Bamea, 
101.). is supposed, on the authority of Chamselcon. to have 
been addressed to Sappho. We have also a stansa attributed 
to her, which some romancers have supposed to be her answer 
to Anacreon. " Mais par malheur (aa Bayle s^ys), Sappbo 
Tint au monde environ cent ou six rii^t ana arant Annerfon.** 
— NoMvUrt de la Rtp. de$ Lett. torn. IL da Novwriire, IfiM. 
The foUowfaig b her fragment, tlM compUmenC of vhidi b 



ODES OF ANACKEON. 



45 



Come, within m fragrant dood 
Bloshxng with light, thy yotary shrood ; 
And, on thoae wingg that sparkling fdaj. 
Waft, oh, waft me hence away ! 
LoTe ! my aool is ftdl of thee. 
Alive to all thy loxory. 
Bat she, the nymph for whom I glow. 
The loTely Leshian mocks my woe ; 
Smiles at the chill and hoary hues, 
That time upon my forehead strews. 
Alas I I fear she keeps her charms. 
In store for yoonger, happier arms ! 



ODE LXXVI. » 

Htther, gentle Mose of mine. 
Come and teach thy Totary old 

Many a golden hymn dirine. 
For the nymph with vest of gold. 

Pretty nymph, of tender age. 
Fair thy silky locks unfold ; 

Listen to a hoary sage, 
Sweetest maid wiUi vest of gold I 



ODE LXXVI1.« 

WocLD that I were a toneftil lyre. 

Of bamish*d rvory fair, 
Which, in the Dionysian choir. 

Some blooming boy should bear I 

Would that I were a golden vase. 
That some bright nymph might hold 

My spotless frame, with blushing grace. 
Herself as pure as gold 1 



teel J ima^iiiied ; she siippoMC that the Mum hu dictatod the 
▼enes of Anacreon :— 

KuMv, m x(ur«d|(«H Mmt* utrtnt 
'Tf*9*f, iM rnt MmXXtyvfutMH %r9km$ 

Oh Mom 1 who lit'it on golden throne 
Foil manj a hymn of witching tone 
The Tefan lage if taught bj thee I 
But, Goddeat. firom th j throne of gold. 
The sweetest hymn tbou'it erer told. 
He lately leani'd and sung for me. 
I Formed of the IMth and 1 19th fh^menU in Bamet. both 
of whidi are to be found in 8caliger*i Poetics. 

D« Psuw thinks that those detached lines and couplets, 
wWcli 8ealigerhaaaddiierdasexampletinhisPoecies,areby 
BO aeans antbentk, bat of his own lUyrfcatloD. 



ODE LXXVIII. s 

Whxn Cupid sees how thickly now. 
The snows of Time fall o*er my brow, 
Upon his wing of golden light, 
He passes with an eaglet's flight. 
And flitting onward seems to say, 
** Fare thee well, thou'st had thy day !" 



Cupid, whose lamp has lent the ray. 
That lights our life's meandering way, 
That God, within this bosom stealing. 
Hath waken'd a strange, mingled feeling. 
Which pleases, though so sadly teasing. 
And teases, though so sweetly pleasing ! < 



Let me resign this wretched breath. 
Since now remains to me 

No other balm than kindly death. 
To soothe my misery 1 • 



I KNOW thou lov'st a brimming measure, 
And art a kindly, cordial host ; 

But let me fill and drink at pleasure — 
Thus I enjoy the goblet most * 



I FEAR that love disturbs my rest. 
Yet feel not love's impassion'd care ; 

I think there's madness in my breast. 
Yet cannot find that madness there 17 



* This is generally inserted among the remains of Alcseus. 
Some, however, have attributed it to Anacreon. See our 
poet's twenty-second ode, and the notes. 

s See Barnes, 173d. This fragment, to which I have taken 
the liberty of adding a turn not to be found in the original, is 
cited by Ludan in bis thort essay on the Gallic Hercules. 

* Barnes, 125th. This is in Scaliger's Poetics. Gail has 
omitted it in bis collection of fragments. 

* This fragment is extant in Arsenius and Hephsestion. 
See Barnes (GMh), who has arranged the metre of it very 
skilfully. 

* Barnes, 72d. This fhigment, which is found in Atho- 
nseus, contains an excellent lesson for the Tutaries of Jupiter 
Hospitalis. 

7 Found hi Hephattion (see Barnes, 96th), and reminds 
one somewhat of the following : — 



46 



MOORE'S WORKS. 



From dread Lencadia's frowning steep, 
m plunge into the whitening deep : 
And there lie cold, to death resign*d. 
Since Love intoxicates my mind I i 



Mix me, child, a cup divine. 
Crystal water, ruby wine : 
Weave the frontlet, richly flushing, 
0*er my wintry temples blushing. 
Mix the brimmer — Love and I 
Shall no more the contest try. 
Here — upon this holy bowl, 
I surrender all my soul ! ^ 



Among the Epigrams of the Anthologia, are found 
some panegyrics on Anacreon, which I had trans- 
lated, and originally intended as a sort of Coronis 
to this work. But I found upon consideration, 
that they wanted variety ; and that a frequent 
recurrence, in them, of the same thought, would 
render a collection of such poems uninteresting. 
I shall take the liberty, however, of subjoining a 
few, selected from the number, that I may not 
appear to have totally neglected those ancient 
tributes to the fame of Anacreon. The four epi- 
grams which I give are imputed to Antipater 
Sidonius. They are rendered, perhaps, with too 
much freedom ; but designing originally a trans- 



Odl et amo ; qnare Id faciam forUcte requlris ; 
Netcio: sed fieri sentlo, et excrucior. Cann. 53. 

I love thee and hate thee, but if 1 can tell 
The cause of my love and my hate, may I die. 

1 can feel it, alas 1 1 can feel It too veil. 
That I loTe thee and hate thee, but cannot tell why. 

> This is also in llephcstlon, and perhaps is a fragment of 
some poem, in vhich Anacreon had commemorated the late 
of Sappho. It is the I sad of Barnes. 

s Collected by Barnes, fh>m Demetrius Phalareus and Rus. 
tathlus, and subjoined in his edition to the epijcrams attributed 
to our poet. And here Is the last of those little scattered 
Hovers, which I thought I might venture with any grace to 
transplant ;— happy if it could be said of the garland which 
they form, T« i* «C* ArmMfimrt. 

* Antipater Sidonius, the author of this epigram, lired, 
according to Vossius, de Poetii Gr*cls, in the second year of 
the lOdth Olympiad. He appears, from what Cicero and 
Qulntllian have said of hhn, to have been a kind of improv. 
Tisatora. 8«« lasUtut. Oral. lib. x. eap. 7. There b nothing 
BMire known rwpeetlnf tliia poet, cxecpt aooM particaUra aboat 



lation of all that are extant on the subject, I en- 
deavoured to enliven their uniformity by sometimes 
indulging in the liberties of paraphrase. 



ANTinATFOT ZIAnNlOT, EI2 ANAKPEONTA. 

0AAAOI rrrpoKopvfiioSf AyoKp^oy, o^t <rc Kiacos 

dSpa re Ktifutyttf wop^vptuv rcroAa 
viTTcu 8* afyufotPTos aya$\i6oano yoKoKTos, 

ciMtfScf 8' awo yris ^8v x^o'vo fit$v^ 
o<ppa K€ roi awoiiri re km oarui r^p^of apifrat, 

€1 8c ris ^tfifvots xp*fjLirr9Teu tv^poaupa, 
u ro ^lAoy trrtp^as, ^iXc, fiixpStroy, s» aw ootSa 

vean-a 9tawKtcras km trvr cpsm 0top. 

Around the tomb, oh, bard divine ! 

Where soft thy hallow*d brow reposes. 
Long may the deathless ivy twine. 

And summer spread her waste of roses I 

And there shall many a fount distil. 
And many a rill refresh the flowers ; 

But wine shall be each purple rill. 
And every fount be milky showers. 

Thus, shade of him, whom Nature taught 
To tune his lyre and soul to pleasure. 

Who gave to love his tenderest thought. 
Who gave to love his fondest measure, — 

Thus, after death, if shades can feel. 

Thou may*st, from odours round thee streaming, 
A pulse of past enjoyment steal, 

And live again in blissful dreaming 1 ' 

his ilhiess and death, which are mentioned as curious by Pliny 
and others i— and there remain of his works but a few epigrams 
in the Anthologia, among which are found these Inscriptions 
upon Anacreon. These remains have been sometimes imputed 
to another poet^ of the same name, of whom Vossius gives us 
the following account:—" Antipater Thessalonicensii visit 
tempore August! Caeuuis, ut qui saltantera viderit Pyiadem, 
sicut constat ex quodam ejus epigrammate Af9tk»yuK, lib. It. 
tit. ut «(x*'^'^- ^' ^^^ '^ Bathyllum primos fuisse pan. 
tomimos ac sub Augusto claruisse, satis notum ex Dlone, 
Ac. Ac." 

The reader, who thinks it worth observing, may find a 
strange oversight in Hoffman's quotation of this article from 
Vossius, Lexic. Univers. By the omission of a sentence he 
has made Vossius assert that the poet Antipater was one of 
the first pantomime dancers in Rome. 

Barnes, upon the epigram before us. mentions a version of 
it by BrodKus, which is not to be found in that commentator \ 
but he more than once confounds Brodvus with another anno, 
tator on the Anthologia, Vincentius Obsoponu, who has glvea 
a translation of the epigran. 

• PI— 1— fw TiMMlMieMri ttflwifli vlisatur.-S 
timmtl mmnM 



r 






■ 




ODES OF ANACREON. 47 


J 




TYVT Anor* sa tok atton. 


TOT ATTOT, Ell TON ATTON. 


■ 


f 


TT^CBOS Ai'wt/Jf toia-aj. 6 Tif*** fHla^t ffMCV«f 






I 


EAi«, Xh 9^^r (ctfHtTvrn tuM^ai' 


£( rt roi c« ^leAaiy ijA^ck «/i«i' o^t Aas, 








Ttwftffov tfiTi ttitohii, (ntftffotf yaaws, o^pa mt¥ oimi 






*ljMfia' Koi mtjffov \tvKos •S(«9« Xi^tof « 


OdTia yrf^fft TOfUi »»»ri(ojii<jKa, 






O^ AiJijf *ro« €p«rraj «irf<rf ciTftr. f«f JT Ax<fMM^<>' 


*tlt 6 Aiowffov ^a^tcXij^frot otMouri itfii^^r, 






Xlr, ^irr wSopcit Kvir^&t ,&cp^40Tfpi|. 


'flf ^ ^axpirrov (Tvrrpo^s OffUfi^tTis, 
M>^# Mrro^iMCi'^s Bokx^v 5ix* towtoj' ^<M<rw 






Bkax deeps Anftcreon, in this ivied flhide ; 


Tof ytv*ff i^tpowttty x^^p^^ w^iAof*' »*o»'. > 






H^re Diate m death the Teion swui Is laid > 








CoLd» cold that heart, which while oa earth it dwelt 


Oh stranger! if Anacreon's shcU 






All the cwect frenxy of lovers pajssioii fdt 


Has ever taught tliy heart to twelM 






And yet, oh Bard I thou art not mute in death, 


With paBBion'fl throb <ir pleasure's sigh, 






SdU do we catch th j lyreV luziirioiis breath ; < 


lu pity turo^ as waud'ring nigh, 






And ttill thv song* of tofk Bathylla hloom^ 


And drop thy gohtet'« richest tear * 






Gf«cfi aa the iiy round thy mould' riug tomb. 


la tenderest libation here \ 






Kor jet haa death obscur'd thy fire of love, 


So shall my sleeping ashes thrill 






For atiU it Ilghti thee through the Ely&ian grove ; 


With visions of enjoyment still. 






Where dreams are thine, that bless th* elect alone, 


Not even in death can I resign 






And Vencu c«Ui thee eren in death her own I 


The festal joys that oncse were mine, 






« — — Otf TkiM titan a teid.] Thus Horace of Piiid&r : _ 


* — ^— if Anacrttm'i thrU 






Ifalta tXrcamm trvat aura cjrnium. 


Has eifer taught ikp heart ta tuvtf. It^,} We maf gosf ■ 
rrom the woixU la /SfCA^v i/w*r« that Aaacrvon wai trat toerelf 






A mnm wa» IImf li1«rt>f lyphlcAl etnbieiti of a pact, AoAcreoa 


m writer of bUlel><doux, aj tome Frcnrh crCUci hare called 






taa liECb caUfld tJk* ivm of Teot by another of hij culogliU. 


him* Amanpl tbfg« Mr, Le Fi?vre, with all hh pfolteiied 








admlratloD, ha« given our poet a character bj no meaaaofan 






A»0ti*t At«JBfMv4W, T«7«r muM»9*t 


eleratMl cat t : — 






E^9%kmt i^fn N»r«ci« ptiX^Ut*}^ 


Aatii c'ett pour cela qua la poit^iitfi 






Eyytrwt, AtHtkiiy. 


l/a timjour« ju4ten»at d'agre en age chant^ 






Ccd of the f rape I thou tiAi I tietray'd 








la whie't bewildering drc«m, 


Ami do billetk^doua et de bAdliieHe. 






Tbe Gilmt man that mv plnyM 


S«v the veriet preExed to hit Puittet Gtec*. Thii it unlike 






AJont Hm Mttie*! ftreun 1^ 


the Untruage ot Theocritus/to whom Atutcreon U indebted for 






Tlie -raan, nun'd with all thoM boney'd boft, 1 


the rollowlttg iinaplo eulagium : — 






The foong Dvttreft, light LoTct, md rt>»e.tlpp'd Joyt 1 


£12 ANAKPEONT03 ANAFIANTA. 






* Mtm db Wtf ca#e* ik^ l^re*M tunrhmt breath i^ Thui 


esriM T*t «|f)(J«.*TV rwTM, at fiti. 






tteaalilw, tptaMtng of our poet t -^ 


rv«iit3«T M*u kty', I9-«T If «t««v t00^* 






Mmhtm >* i« 3^^ 0i\iT%^9e »XX* fTt mt4t§ 


AiAiafUvfuf um*»' uhm it Ti«, 






Aaq{Cf*«f «4( S«««v urr«#ir ffi iiiSi|. 


«w» rftf§' It rt m^irrtr *id«c*»**»« 






^fU9tim, A«4UA«^. 
















Though dark Mithln the tomb he llei \ 


Upon thk Stat lib or ANAcajcoit. 






Hut IkiDg «U11, hU aj)Doroiu 1ut« 


Stranger ! whei near thU itatue cbance lo roam, 








Let it awhile your itudimii ejr«s engage ; 








j That fou may iaf , returning to your lumie, 
" I've fe4:n the image of tine Tclan tage, 
Beit of the bards who di!<ck the Miuc'A page." 






Ihaogli L« Ptrrr«» hi bii Poct«* Greci. iuppo^f^t that theepl- 








Then, if you add, '* That ttripilogs \nr'd him welir' 






caoaldOTabl* oThU rwnuliif b a utlrical pcwm upon woinea. 


You tcU Ihcm aJl he was, and aptljr tell. 






Wa nuf Judge froa the Unas I hare juit qtiotM. and the 


1 have endeavoured tn dn Jiutlce to the limplleity of thU 






hwport of tbe (ppigram befora ui^ that the worki o( Antcrmm 


inscripticin by rcndefing it lu llteraiiy, I toeUete. ai a terw 








tronjilalion will aUow. 






■opooa, lh« OMOBiantator ber^, appear* to exuU In their 


^ And drop /% gobUlB rfche»t trar, 9ic\ Thai Sraioiildca, 






dwtnietioo, and UQlag tu they were btirned hj the hithopi 


In another of hl» upitapbt on our poet ; ^ 








Kaj fjur mit TtyyH *«t«^ 3^«r*f, nf « rH'^^*t 








\*l*Tt^m /I44Amjf« lotlr 1« rvrnftmrmt. 








Lol riuei, in cluM'ring t>eauty wrrath'd, 






^ T1i« iptrit of Anacrean U luppoted Ui utter thuae veriet 


Drop ail tbi<iT lrcai.nres oil his bead, 






INxptliatoiBb, — aotaffwhat " routatuj ah lllo," at leaat La 


Whoie lip« a tip* of irwectnesi brcatfa'd, 






timpUmf of eaprcaalon 


BlchiT Wvm vUiVi hatli ever ihcd 1 




1 


i . 




A 



48 



MOORE'S WORKS. 



WTiiin Harmony pursu'd my ways. 
And Bacchus wanton'd to my lays* ' 
Oil ! if dcljghl coutd cbanii no more, 
If aJl the gubkt'ft biiss wt-re oVt, 
WliGQ &.U* had once our douui decreed. 
Then dying vould he death indeed j 
Kor could [ think, utibl(?6t by wine, 
DWinity itself divine ! 




TOT ArroT, £11 To^^ attok. 

ETAEI2 tp ^i^cfoiirir. AraA(p«or, ttr$Ka irvwfitFat 

tii^ti Kox 2/ifp3if , ro riftOtaif tap, i» cv fifAurZtfV, 
0ctpf it', artiepovov irtieraa ffa^/AortoK 

fftdt<is)>' yap EpcvTOT «^i/i (TKowov cv 8f cr« fwtn^v 
TCJ^a Tc Km <rK9\ias tix*v lier^o\tas* 



i And Bpcchm watttoH'd to m^ tagi. ^c] Th« or(rin«l 
berr U corruplt-d, tbt Ihic ik « A»*fn(rrw, &c. Ii uniDldJiiflbli!. 

BruDck'* MiveiiilAtiuii Intpiorct the tente, but I doubt Kit 
(bra h» eommamdwS for etf gAnc«. He fad* the line tbtu ; — 

Sm Brunrk, Aiulcctji Veier. Pact. Crvc. vol. II, 

' Tkg harp, tkal tekitptrd ikrougk each littKering miffki^ 
^e.} In Kuother of tbrs« poemi, ** the olghttjr-fpeakiiig 
Ijrrt*" or the bftrd U represented m not jct tileot even after 
hit death. 

Xi/tuw'l'c^ I'r AM«{'i«rTiR« 
To l>g«utjr*i tmile and wlne*« doltf ht, 

To Joyt he lov'd on rarth »o w*U, 
Still ■hjill hit iplrit, all th<* night. 

Attune tlie wild. t^rM ibdl ! 

* Ttke pmrttt n^ttar t^ iti mmmbcrM^ 4r.] Thai, tnji 
Branelii in tbe protogtie to the lAtlre* i>t Penlu« : -> 

Cantwtt cn»dai FrgM«rlttixi nectar. 
■* Mtftot ** ti Ik* lutial rwidlng In lb it l(n*« and C^uubon hm 
daHmdad It \ Imi '* nectar " 1>, 1 think, much more tplrlt^d. 

* She, ik* y^mng tpringvf tkg drtirn. J|tfO The ori|$lfiaI, 
T« n«0i» %m%, U btmutlful. We rpgri>t ibat 4uch pralte thnuld 
tw la* Ulicd to proftotb^ronily, Ai>di feel that the poet*! mk- 
lre»o E«irj-pyle would havf vlrnTviHl It brlliT, lU-r imtne 
hat l»ern toll I u> bjr Mvlirttgr>r, a« alreadjr iiuoted, and In 
nnothrr iiT»i|triiin hjr Aiitipatrr. 

«ift*evw? Jbrafnf «f^ J^tf^Ai «i^<ir, 
fl «f«r Sit^evlLiTff 'n«it«Mi««>«r . . » . 
Uiog may [^' ind Ifowpl^, 

Kurvpyl*-, <ire, 

rifttklny l>«-r I \\\tf p^jr 

That llgliia thitic i>v * dlMoltrtnjt ftm I 




At length thy goldeti hourft]iAT« winged thcii' flight, 
A ltd drowsy dcadi (hat eyelid gtecpeth ; 

Thy barpi that whLsper'd through eacb lingering 
night, « 
Now mutely in obliTion «kepcth 1 

She toOt for whom that harp profiisely Ahtfd 

The purest nectar of its nttmbcrSj * 
She, the young spring of thy desires, hath fled, 

And with her blest Anacreon slumbers I ^ 

Farewell! thou had'st a pu!s« for every dart^ 
That mighty Love cotild scatter from his 
quiver ; 
And each new heanty found m thee » heart. 
Which thou, with all thy heart and soul, didst 
give her! * 



Slug ol her unlle't bcwItcblDg power* 
fl«r «f«i7 gracw that warati aod blcMei ; 

Slog of her tvronV luxtirlant flower, 
The beainlog glory of h<^r trc4*e«. 

The exprrulon here« ««$^' a«,iM»ri "the flower otth^ hatr/* 
It borrowed rram Anacreoo blmMlC« ai appear* bf aOagmmt 
of the poet preMrved lu Siotwus : hwtmufmt I* iv«A«r mpuifAm 

> Fartweli t ikcm kad'si a puht JFbr rvgrp dart, fc.] ifiv 
rmt^H. **icopuf eras oaturi/' not '* H*<^>^l^*^f/' ■* Baraoi 
very falielj interprcti It. 

Vtocenthu Otxopamt, upofi tbtt paiiage. euoiHref to In- 
du]go ua with a little aitroloi^lcal wlfclom, aud talki In a itjria 
or learned! MraiuLal about VeDtu, " ixial« poilta ctun Marte tai 
dlomo SatumI/' 

> And each nrw bftul^ fomtd At HkHf m kf^H^ #««] This 
coupU-^ if not oLlierwlke warranted bj tha orlfinalt than aa 
It dilatei the thought wblch Antlp«t«r has flguratliraly 
exprevted. 

Critiaa, of Athenf, pa^i a tribute to the legitimate gsl- 
Inn try of Anacrron, calling him, with i^lfgant 

T«t )f yatmuutit ^Ami* vJti|«p«« avr* *!«<, 

Teo« gMve to r:rt.«ec« her trcatare. 

Sage AnAcrr^n, Mtre In loTing ; 
Fondly weavUtu Uyt of fiteHiuure 

For the maid* vtho blusb'J approving* 

When lu nightly banquett iportlng. 

Wh^rc'* the gui*<t fnuld ever II f him ? 
Wht'O wUh Io*i«'« tiMluethm citurtlng* 

Where'* the uy raph could eVr deny hint ? 

b Titini ^altfw. In Ikk dMIcatoffr wna 



JUVENILE POEMS. 



49 



JUVENILE POEMS. 



PREFACE, 



BT TH£ EDITOB.* 



TiUE Pocnis Yhich I take tbe liberty of pablishisg, 
AcTer mt«ikd€d by the author lo pofis beyond 
drcie of his friends He tbonght, with some 
itmi what are called Occasional Poems 
■Oil be alwaya inaipid and uninteresting to the 
mail 1 1 part of their readers. The particular sita* 
allBBS in wliich they were written ; the character 
of tlie antbor and of his aasoeiates ; all these pecu- 
be known and felt before we can 
the ipirit of such com positions* Thia 
would hsTe always, I believe, pre- 
vcotod the aathor himself from submitting these 
tiiflea to the eye of dispassionate criticism : and 
if tlinr posthumous introduction to the world be 
n^loatiee tohia memoryt or intmsiim on the public, 
the error mtuit be imputed to the injudicious par- 
tiality of friendship. 

Mr. I^STLK died in his one and twentieth year ; 
and miMl: of these Poems were written at so early 
a peiiod thai their errors may lay clalmato some 
Indolgeaee fitnn the critic. Their author, as un- 
amhitioiia aa iadolenl, scarce erer looked beyond 
tiw aMMPgnl of composition ; but, in general, wrote 
aa he pleased, careless whether he pleased as he 
It may likewise be remembered, that tbey 
aU the prodnctions of an age when the pus- 
-very often give a colouring too warm to the 
; and this may palliate, if it cannot 
that air of levity which penradea so many 
The '*aurea legge, s'ei pioce ei lice," he 
loo nraeh pursued, and too much inculcates. Few 
can regret this more sincerely than myself -, and 
if my friend had lived, the jndgmenl of riper jears 
would haTe chastened his mind, and tempered the 
laxttriaiioe of his fancy. 

3ir. Lcms gave mnch of his time to the study 
of the amatory writers* If ever he expected to 
ind is the ancients that delicacy of sentiment, and 
variety of &Dcy, which are so necessary to refine 
and iT^i^w**^ the poetry of love, he was much dis- 

• A portiofi of theatt Pocmt were publifhed origlnsllf m» 
th* workj of*' ilie tsle Thooiaa Little," with the Prtlkoe hen 
(Ivco tif«a&«il to them. 



appointed. I know not any one of them who can 
be regarded as a model in that stvle ; Ovid made 
love like a rake, and Properttus like a school- 
master. The mythological allusions of the latter 
are called erudition by his commentators ; but 
such ostentatious display, upon a subject so simple 
as love^ would be now esteemed vague and puerile, 
and was even in his own times pedantic. It is 
astonishing that to many critica should have pre- 
ferred him to the gentle and touching Tibnllus ; 
hut those defects, 1 believe, which s commoo 
reader condemns, have been regarded rather as 
beauties by those erudite men, the commentaloTa ; 
who find a field for their ingenuity and research, 
in his Grecian learning and quaint obscurities. 

Tibullus abounds with touches of fine and 
natural feeling. The idea of his unexpected re- 
turn to Delia, "Tunc veniam subito •/' &c. is 
imagined with oil the delicate ardour of a lover ; 
and the sentiment of " nee te posse carerc vclim," 
however colloc|uial the exprenton may have been, 
la natural, and from the heart. But the poet of 
Verona, in my opinion, posseased more genuine 
feeling thau any of them. Ilia life was, I believe, 
unfortunate ; his associates were wild and aban- 
doned ; and the warmth of his nature tmik too 
much advantage of the latitude which the morals 
of thoae times so criminally allowed to the pas- 
sions. All this depraved his imagination, and 
made it the slave of his senses. But stilt a native 
•cnsibllity is often very warmly perceptible ; and 
when he touches the chord of pathos, he reaches 
immediately the heart They who have felt the 
sweets of return to a home from which they have 
long been absent will confess the beauty of those 
simple unaffected lines : ^- 

O qald salutti e»t beatiut eurl» ! 
Cum vnmt onus rrponj^. ac pcirgr^Do 
Lahore reftfti i^cnlTnus Larcm Ad ooiitruni 
DefidcrmtoquD &cqule»dm4it k*clQ, 

His sorrows on the death of his brother are the 
very tears of poesy *, and when he complains of 
Ihe iiUgratitude of mankind, even the iaezperieneed 
cannot but fi)Tnpathi5e with him. I wish I were 




50 



MOORE'S WORKS. 



a poet ; I should then endeavoar to catch, hy 
CraDslation, the spirit of those beauties whieh I 
hiive aiwnya so warmly admired.* 

It seems to liave been peculiarly the fare trf" 
Catullus^ that the better and more vaJ liable part 
of his |x>etrjr has aot reached us ; for there is 
confessedjy nothing in his extant Trork* to autho- 
rise the epithet '*doetus,'* so universally bestowed 
uptjo him by ihe ancients. If time had suffered 
hiB other writ^Djgs to escape, we perhaps should 
hmve fonnd among them some inore purely amatory ; 
but of those we poaaefls, can there he a sweeter 
specimen of warxiif yet chastened descriptiot), than 
his loves of Acme and Septimiiis ? and the few 
Uttle soDgs of dalllanee to Lesbla are distinguished 
by each an exquisite playfulness, that they have 
ilwiys been assumed as models by the most ele- 
gant modem Latinists, Still » it must be con- 
iSeaied, in the midst of all these beauties, 

^^ MtHlia de fbnte leporum 
Surgit i»arl alfqi^y. qu4xj \n ipctt Oorlbiii siig»t4 

It has of^en been remarked, that the aoctenta 
knew nothing of gallantry ; and we are sometimes 
told there was too much sincerity in their lore to 
allow them lo trifle thus with the itemblance of 
passion. But I cannot pttrceive timt they were 
any thing more constant *han the modems t ihey 
felt all the Mme dissipation of the heurt, though 
they knew not those seduclivti graces by which 
gallantry almost teaches it to be amiable. Wotton, 
the learned advocate for the modems^ deserts them 
in considering this point of comparisonf and 
praises the ancients for their ignorance of inch 
reinementa. But he seems to have collected his 
notions of gallatitry from the insipid ybc£sttr« of the 
French romances, which have nothing congeitial 
with the graceful levity, the "grata proterritaa," 
of a Kocbester or a Sedley. 

As far as I can judge, the early poets of onr 
own laagnage were the models which Mr« Littl£ 
selected for imitation. T» attain their simplicity 
(*' atvo rarissima nostro simplicitas ") was his 
fondest ambition. He could not have oiiufd at a 
grace more dilheult of attainment \ ; and his life 
was of too short a date to alb>w him to perfect 
such a laste ; but how far he was likely to have 
•iiooeedod, the critic may judge from hii prodtui- 



I have found among his papers a doycI, in 



* ha th« (ollowtng Poems, will b« fouod s traoalsddQ «f sns 
of hti flnMt r«nnlnt} btn t fvKj U U onlf « ib«« MbOoU 
\taft immf^ tad d«««rr«i to hm j»ral««d for Uttls mmrn thaa 

t LiMMltal, 

t It Is a«lflMIS Rloilialtoa of tbe labour whkh •Implirllj 



rather an imperfect state, which, as soon as I have 
arranged and collected it, shall be submitted to 
the public eye. 

Where Mr. Little was bom, or what is the 
genealo^' of his parents, ore points in which very 
few readers can be interested. His life was one 
of those humble streams which have scarcely a 
name in the map of life, and the traveller may 
pass it hy without inquiring its source or direction. 
His character was well known to all who were 
aei|iiainted with him ; for he had too much vanity to 
hide its virtues, and not enough of art to conceal 
its defects. The lighter traits of his mind may be 
traced perhaps in bis writings; but the few for 
which he was Tilyed live only in Hie remembrance 
of hii friends. 

T.M. 



JOSEPH ATKINSON, ESQ. 

Mr DEAR Sm, 

1 FEEL a very tinoere pleasure in dedi- 
cating to yon the Second Ekiition of our friend 
Little's Poems, I am not nnconscious that there 
are many in the collection which perluips it would 
be prudent to have altered or omitted ; and, to saj 
the truth, I more than once revised them for tbat 
purpose*; but, I know not why, I distrostcd either 
my heart or my judgment ? and the consequence 
is, you have them in their original form : 

Kon potniDt OMtrof mulUv^ FaaiidHn, Uturs 
Emcodjunt joecM ; iiaa UUin poieO. 

1 am convinced, however, that, though not 
quite a camtiste rtUcki, you have chanty enough 
to forgive such inoffeosire follies: you know that 
the pious Beza was not the less revered for thoae 
sportive JuveniUa which he published under a 
fictitioas name ; nor did the levity of 1km bo's 
poems prevent him from making a very good car- 



Believe me, my dear Friend, 

With the truest esteem. 
Yours, 
T. M. 



t«talrasi (hat the Rsmbleri of JobatoD, slaliorsts ai thegr 
•Itpcir. wvrt wHtIm with f urary, and mMooi TV^tdreri f^ 
rUlon ; white the atinplp UnftUAg« of RooM««tt» wblcli •••mt 
UiCMiw iovlnp rrrmi thf bcssri, wu thv iJow f»rodiictkn of 
(ttlnrul Ubour, i^uiiitiK on ervry »urtl» moA lnls^clWi SS H| 
■coienee. 





JUVENILE POEMa 



51 



JUVENILE POEMS. 



FRAGMENTS OF COLLEGE EXERCISES. 

KofaOitatiola etc atqne aula Tlttaa. Jot. 

Mamk thoae proud bouten of s splendid line, 
Like gilded rains, mould'iing while thej shine. 
How hearj sits that weight of alien show, 
Like martial helm upon an infimt's brow ; 
Those bovTOw'd spleEudoors, whose contrasting light 
Throws back the native shades in deeper night. 

Ask the proud train who glory's shade pnrsae. 
Where are the arts by whieh that glory grew ? 
The genuine Tirtnes that with eagle-gaze 
Sooght jGong Renown in all her orient blaze ! 
Where is the heart by chymic tmth refin'd, 
Th' exploring soul, whose eye had read mankind? 
Where are the links that twin'd, with heav'nly art. 
His country's interest round the patriot*s heart ? 



JaatsB bdlinB qallNii aaeetswiimi, et pia anna qnibaa 
mlla nisi In annU rgUnqaJtiir q>M. — Litt. 



Is there no call, no consecrating cause, 
ApproT*d by HeaVn, ordain'd by nature's laws. 
Where justice flies the herald of our way. 
And truth's pure beams upon the banners play ? 

Tes, there's a call sweet as an angel's breath 
To slamb'ring babes, or innocence in death ; 
And argent as the tongue of Heav'n within. 
When the mind's balance trembles upon sin. 

Oh ! 'tis our country's voice, whose claim should 

meet 
An echo in the soul's most deep retreat ; 
Along the heart's responding chords should run. 
Nor let a tone there vibrate — but the one I 



VARIETY. 

Ask what prevailing, pleasing power 
Allures the sportive, wandering bee 

To roam, untired, firom flower to flower. 
Hell tell yon, 'tis variety. 



Look Nature round, her features trace. 
Her seasons, all her changes see ; 

And own, upon Creation's face. 
The greatest charm's variety. 

For me, ye gracious powers above ! 

Still let me roam, unfix'd and free ; 
In all things, — but the nymph I love, 

I'll change, and taste variety. 

But, Patty, not a world of charms 

Could e'er estrange my heart from thee ; - 

No, let me ever seek those arms| 
There still Til find variety. 



TO A BOY, WITH A WATCH. 

WRITTEN FOR A FRIEND. 

Is it not sweet, beloved youth. 
To rove through Erudition's bowers. 

And cull the golden fhiits of truth. 
And gather Fancy's brilliant flowers ? 

And is it not more sw6et than this. 
To feel thy parents' hearts approving. 

And pay them back in sums of bliss 
The dear, the endless debt of loving ? 

It must be so to thee, my youth ; 

With this idea toil is lighter ; 
This sweetens all the fruits of truth, 

And makes the flower of fancy brighter. 

The little gift we send thee, boy, 

May sometimes teach thy soul to ponder, 

If indolence or siren joy 
Should ever tempt that soul to wander. 

'Twill tell thee that the winged day 
Can ne'er be chain'd by man's endeavour ; 

That life and time shall fade away. 

While heav'n and virtue bloom for ever ! 



SONG. 



If I swear by that eye, you'll allow. 
Its look is so shifting and new. 

That the oath I might take on it now 
The very next glance would unda 



52 



MOORE'S WORKS. 



Those \mhw» thai ne«tle so sly 
Sueh ihousandc of arrows hwe got. 

That im oatht on the glance of an eya 
Such as yours, may be off in a shot. 

Should I sif ear by the dew on your lip« 
Thcmgh each moment the treasure reaewa» 

If my constancy wisbos to tript 

I may kiss off the oath when I chouse. 

Or a sigh may disperse from that flowV 
Both the dew and the oath thiit are there j 

And rd make a new vow every hour, 
To lose them so sweetly in air, 

But clear up the heav*D of your brow. 
Nor fiincy my fkith is a feather ; 

On roy heart 1 will pledge you my vow, 
Xnd they lM>th must be broken together 1 



To 



Remember him thou leaT'st hehindf 
Who^e heart h warmly bonnd to the«. 

Close as the tend'rest linki can bind 
A heart as warm as heart can l>e. 

Oh } I had long in freedom rov'd, 
Though many seem'd my soul to share } 

*Twas passioii when I thought I lov*d, 
*Twas fancy when 1 thought them Mr. 

Et'q she» my muse's early theme, 
Begtiil'd me only while she warm'd ; 

•Twaa young desire that fed the dream. 
And reason broke what passion formed. 

Bttt thou — ah I better had it been 
If I had stiE iu freedom rov*d, 

if I had ne'er thy beauties seen, 
For tlien I never should have lov'd* 

Then all the pain which lopTcn feel 
Had never to this heart been known ; 

But then, the Joys thai lovers steal, 
Should the^ have ever been my own ? 

Oh ! trust me, when I swear thee ihia, 
Dearest 1 the pain of loving thee, 

The very pain is sweeter tilias 
Than passion's wUdeft ccitosy. 

That little cage I would not part. 
In which roy sonl ia prison 'd now. 

For the most light and winged heart 
That wantons oo the passing vow. 



Still, my betov'd ! still keep in mind, 
However far remov'd from me. 

That there is one thou leav'et behind, 
Whose heart respires for only thee \ 

And though ungenial ties have bound 

Thy fate unto another*s care, 
That arm, which clasps thy bosom round, 

C4innot confine the heart that's there. 

No, no ! that heart is only mine 

By ties all other ties above, 
For I have wed It at a shnne 

Where we have had no priest but Love, 



SONG. 



When Tiroe» who steals our years away, 

Shall steal our pleasures too, 
The mera'ry of the past will stay. 

And half our joys renew. 
Then, Julia, when thy beauty^S flowY 

Shall feel the winti7 air, 
Remembrance will recall the hour 

When thou alone wert fair. 
Tthai talk no more of future glooo i 

Our joys a hall always last ; 
For Hope shall brighten days to come, 

And Mem'ry gild the past. 

Come* Chloe, fill the genial bowl, 

I drink to Ijove and thee : 
Thou never canst decay in soul, 

Thou'lt still be young for me. 
And as thy lips the tear-drop chaae. 

Which on my cheek they find. 
So hope shall steal away the trace 

That sorrow leaves behind. 
Then fill the bowl — away with gloom I 

Our joys Mhall always last i 
For Hope shall brighten days to come. 

And MemVy gild the past. 

Btii mark, at thought of futtire years 

When love shall lose its soul. 
My Chloe drops her timid tears. 

They mingle with my bowh 
Haw like this bowl of wine, my fair. 

Our loving life shall fleet ; 
Though tears may sometimes mingle there* 

The draught will still be sweet. 
Then fill the cup — away with gloom ! 

Our joys shall always hist ; 
For Hope will brighten djays to ( 

And Mem'ry gild the pOfL 



i 



JUVENILE POEMa 



68 



SONG. 

Hats 70a not feen fbe timid tear, 

SCesl trembliiig from mine eye ? 
HaTe yoa not marked the fliuh of fSear, 

Or canght the mnnniir'd sigh ? 
And can joa think mj lore is chill. 

Nor fiz'd on 70a alone ? 
And can yoa rend, by doubting still, 

A heart so mnch yoor own ? 

To yoa my sool's affections move, 

Derootly, warmly true ; 
My life has been a task of lore, 

One long, long thought of you. 
If all your tender &ith be o*er. 

If still my truth yonll try ; 
Alaa, I know bat ome proof more — 

ni UeM yoor name, and die ! 



REUBEN AND ROSE. 

A TALE OF BOMANCE. 

TsE darkness that hung upon Willumberg*s walls 
Had long been remembered with awe and dismay; 

For years not a sunbeam had play*d in its halls, 
And it seem'd as shut out from the regions of day. 

Though the yalleys were brighten'd by many a 
beam. 
Yet none could the woods of that castle illume ; 
And the lightning, which flashed on the neigh- 
bouring stream. 
Flew back, as if fearing to enter the gloom ! 

** Ob ! when shall this horrible darkness disperse ! ** 
Said >ViUnmberg*s lord to the Seer of the Cave ; — 

** It can never dispel,** said the wizard of verse, 
** Till the bright star of chivalry sinks in the 
wave!" 

And who was the bright star of chivalry then ? 

Who covld be but Reuben, the flow'r of the age ? 
For Reuben was first in the combat of men. 

Though Youth had scarce written his name on 
her page. 

For Wil]umberg*s daughter his young heart had 

beat,— 

For Rose, who was bright as the spirit of dawn. 

When with wand dropping diamonds, and silvery 

feet, 

It walks o'er the flow*rs of the mountain and lawn. 



Most Rote, then, from Ren)>en so fktaUy sever ? 

Sad, sad were the words of the Seer of the Cave, 
That darkness should cover that castle for ever. 

Or Reuben be sunk in the merciless wave ! 

To the wizard she flew, saying, ** Tell me, oh, tell ! 

Shall my Reuben no more be restor*d to my 
eyes?- 
" Yes, yes — when a spirit shall toll the great bell 

Of the mould'ring abbey, your Reuben shall 



Twice, thrice he repeated "Your Reuben shall 
rise I" 
And Rose felt a moments release from her pain ; 
And wip'd, while she listen'd, the tears from her 
eyes. 
And hop'd she might yet see her hero again^ 

That hero could smile at the terrors of death. 
When he felt that he died for the sire of his Rose; 

To the Oder he flew, and there, plunging beneath. 
In the depth of the billows soon found his re- 
pose. — 

How strangely the order of destiny falls ! — 
Not long in the waters the warrior lay, 

When a sunbeam was seen to glance over the walls, 
And the castle of Willumberg bask'd in the ray! 

All, all but the soul of the maid was in light. 
There sorrow and terror lay gloomy and blank : 

Two days did she wander, and all the long night. 
In quest of her love, on the wide river's bank. 

Oft, oft did she pause for the toll of the bell, 
And heard but the breathings of night in the air ; 

Long, long did she gaze on the watery swell. 
And saw but the foam of the white billow there. 

And often as midnight its veil would undraw. 
As she look*d at the light of the moon in the 
stream. 
She thought *twas his helmet of silver she saw. 
As the curl of the surge glittered high in the 
beam. 

And now the third night was begemming the sky; 

Poor Rose, on the cold dewy margent reclin'd. 
There wept till the tear almost fVoze in her eye. 

When — hark ! — *twas the bell that came deep 
in the wind ! 

She startled, and saw, through the glimmering 
shade, 
A form o*er the waters in migesty glide ; 



MOORE'S WORKS. 



knew *twa8 her love, though his cheek wm 

decay'd, 
jid his helmet of silTer was wash'd by the tide. 

a this what the Seer of the Cave had foretold ?— 
Dim, dim through the phantom the moon shot a 

gleam ; 
.Vas Reuben, but, ah I he was deathly and cold. 
And fleeted away like the spell of a dream ! 

fwice, thrice did he rise, and as often she thought 
From the bank to embrace him, but vain her 
endeavour I 

Then, plunging beneath, at a billow she caught. 
And sunk to repose on its bosom for ever 1 



DID NOT. 



'TwAs a new feeling — something more 
Than we had dared to own before. 

Which then we hid not ; 
We saw it in each other's eye. 
And wish'd, in every half-breath*d sigh. 

To speak, but did not 

She felt my lips* impassioned touch — 
'Twas the first time I dared so much. 

And yet she chid not s 
But whisper'd o*er my burning brow, 
" Oh I do you doubt I love you now ? " 

Sweet soul I I did not. 

Warmly I felt her bosom thrill, 
I press'd it closer, closer still. 

Though gently bid not ; 
Till— oh! the world hath seldom heard 
Of lovers, who so nearly err'd. 

And yet, who did not 



That wrinkle, when first I espied it 
At once put my heart out of pain ; 

Till the eye, that was glowing beside it, 
DisturVd my ideas again. 

1 Thi< AllodM to a carious g«ni, upoo whkh CUudUn tuu 
Ml OS aoBMi rcrj eUborato eptgranu. It wu a drop of pore 
wstaraoeioMd within a piece of ciTttal. SeeCUudlan. Epl- 
gram. ** <to CiTttallo eul aqua Inorat." AddlMm mentloiu a 
cnrloeity of tide kind at Milan; andaddt,** Itiitnchararity 



Thou art just in the twilight at present 
When woman's declension begins ; 

When, fading fh>m all that is pleasant 
She bids a good night to her sins. 

Yet thou still art so lovely to me, 

I would sooner, my exquisite mother I 

Repose in the sunset of thee. 
Than bask in the noon of another. 



MRa 

ON 80MK CALUMNIES AOAIN8T 



HSm CHAmACTER. 



Is not thy mind a gentle mind ? 
Is not that heart a heart refin*d ? 
Hast thou not every gentle grace. 
We love in woman's mind and hce ? 
And, oh ! art thou a shrine for Sin 
To hold her hateftd worship in ? 

No, no, be happy — dry that tear — 
Though some thy heart hath harboured near, 
May now repay its love with blame ; 
Though man, who ought to shield thy £une, 
Ungenerous man, be first to shun thee ; 
Though all the world look cold upon thee. 
Yet shall thy pureness keep thee still 
Unharmed by that surrounding chill ; 
Like the filmed drop, in crystal found, * 
Floating, while all was firoz*n around, — 
Unchill'd, unchanging shalt thou be. 
Safe in thy own sweet purity. 



ANACREONTIC. 

-^in ladkfyivuu Terterat omne mermn. 

Tib. Ub i. elef . 

Press the gfhtpe, and let it pour 
Around the board its purple showY ; 
And, while the drops my goblet steep, 
111 think in woe the clusters weep. 

Weep on, weep on, my pouting vine I 
Heav*n grant no tears, but tears of wine. 
Weep on ; and, as thy sorrows flow, 
111 taste the luxury of woe. 

at thb that I law at VenddoM In France, which th( 
pretend U a tear that oar Sarkmr shed orer Laafnu, 
gathered up bjr an angel, who put it into a little cry 
and made a present of it to Mary Macdalcn.*'— 
Btmurk* on tepertU PmrU «f Itmlft. 



J_ 



JUVENILE POEMS 



55 



WsEM I loT*d yon, I can*! bat allow 
I had man J an exquisite minute ; 

Bat the scorn that I feel for yoa now 
Hath eren more Inzory in it 

Thoa, whether weVe on or we're off. 
Some witchery seems to await yoa ; 

To lore yon was pleasant enough. 
And, oh I *ds delicious to hate you ! 



TO JXJLIA. 

121 AlXmoW TD SOME ILLDSnAL CBIT1CI81I8. 

Wht, let the stingless critic chide 
With all that fbme of Tacant pride 
Which mantles o*er the pedant fool. 
Like rapoor on a stagnant pooL 
Oh ! if the song, to feeling tnie. 
Can please th* elect, the sacred few, 
Wlioae souls, by Taste and Nature tangfat. 
Thrill with the genuine pulse of thought — 
If some fond feeling maid like thee. 
The wann-ey*d child of Sympathy, 
Shall say, while o*er my simple theme 
She languishes in Passion*8 dream, 
** He was, indeed, a tender soul — 
** No critic law, no chill control, 
" Should erer ft-eese, by timid art, 
** The flowings of so fond a heart ! " 
Yes, soul of Nature I soul of Love I 
That, hoT*ring like a snow-wing'd dove. 
Breathed o*er my cradle warblings wild. 
And hail*d me Passion*s warmest child, — 
Grant me the tear tnnn Beauty's eye. 
From Feeling's breast the votire sigh } 
Oh ! let my song, my memory, find 
A shrine within the tender mind ; 
And I will smile when critics chide, 
And I will scorn the fume of pride 
Which mantles o*er the pedant fool. 
Like Tapour round some stagnant pool I 



TO JULIA. 

Mock me no more with Love's beguiling dream, 
A dream, I find, illusory as sweet : 

One smile of friendship, nay, of cold esteem. 
Far dearer were than passion's bland deceit ! 



TTe heard yoa oft eternal troth declare ; 

Tour heart was only mine, I once belierU 
Ahl shall I say that all your tows were air? 

And muMt I say, my hopes were all deceir'd ? 

Vow, then, no longer that our souls are twin'd. 
That all our joys are felt with mutual seal ; 

Julia ! — 'tis pity, pity makes you kind ; 

You know I love, and you would Mem to feeL 

But shall I still go seek within those arms 
A joy in which affection takes no part ? 

No, no, farewell 1 you give me but your charms. 
When I had fondly thought you gave your heart 



THE SHRINE. 

TO 

Mt fktes had destin'd me to rove 
A long, long pilgrimage of love ; 
And many an altar on my way 
Has lur'd my pious steps to stay ; 
For, if the saint was young and fair, 
I tum'd and sung my vespers there. 
This, from a youthful pilgrim's fire, 
Is what your pretty saints require ; 
To pass, nor tell a single bead. 
With them would be pro&ne indeed 1 
But, trust me, all this young devotion 
Was but to keep my zeal in motion ; 
And, ev'ry humbler altar past, 
I now have reach'd tue sheuie at last I 



TO A LADY, 

WITH SOME MANUSCRIPT POEMS, 
ON UUTINO TBI COUKTBT. 

When, casting many a look behind, 
I leave the friends I cherish here — 

Perchance some other friends to find. 
But surely finding none so dear — 

Haply the little simple page, 

WTiich votive thus I've trac'd for thee. 
May now and then a look engage. 

And steal one moment's thought for me. 

But, oh I in pity let not those 

Whose hearts are not of gentle mould. 
Let not the eye that seldom flows 

With feeling's tear, my song behold. 



56 MOORE'S WORKS. 


For, trust me, they who never melt 




With pity, never melt with love ; 


To 


And such will frown at all IVe felt. 




And all my loving lays reprove. 


Sweet lady, look not thus again : 




Those bright deluding smiles recall 


Bat if; perhaps, some gentler mind. 


A maid remembcr'd now with pain. 


Which rather loves to praise than blame. 


>Vho was my love, my life, my all ! 


Should in my page an interest find. 




And linger kindly on my name ; 


Oh I while this heart bewilder'd took 




Sweet poison fhvm her thrilling eye. 


Tell him — or, oh I if, gentler still. 


Thus would she smile, and lisp, and look. 


By female lips my name be blest : 


And I would hear, and gaze, and sigh I 


For, where do all aflfections thrill 




So sweetly as in woman's breast ? — 


Yes, I did love her — wildly love — 




She was her sex's best deceiver 1 


Tell her, that be whose loving themes 


And oft she swore she'd never rove — 


Her eye indulgent wanders o*er. 


And I was destin'd to believe her I 


Could sometimes wake from idle dreams. 




And bolder flighu of fancy soar ; 


Then, lady, do not wear the smile 




Of one whose smile could thus betray ; 


That Glory oft would claim the lay. 


Alas! I think the lovely wile 


And Friendship oft his numbers move ; 


Again could steal my heart away. 


But whisper then, that, "* sooth to say. 




** His sweetest song was giv*n to Love I " 


For, when those spells that charm'd my mind. 




On lips so pure as thine I see, 




I fear the heart which she resign'd 
Will err again, and fly to thee! 




TO JULIA. 
Though Fate, my girl, may bid ns part. 






Our souls it cannot, shall not sever ; 




The heart will seek iu kindred heart. 


NATURE'S LABELS. 


And cling to it as close as ever. 






▲ FRAGMENT. 


But must we, must we part indeed ? 




Is all our dream of rapture over ? 


In vain we Ibndly strive to trace 


And does not Julia's bosom bleed 


The soul's reflection in the fkce ; 


To leave so dear, so fond a lover ? 


In vain we dwell on lines and crosses. 




Crooked mouth, or short proboscis ; 


Does she too mourn ? — Perhaps she may ; 


Boobies have look'd as wise and bright 


Perhaps she mourns our bliss so fleeting : 


As Plato or the Stagirite : 


But why is Julia's eye so gay. 


And many a sage and learned skull 


If Julia's heart like mine is beating? 


Has peep'd through windows dark and dull. 




Since then, though art do all it can. 


I oft have lov'd that sunny glow 


We ne'er can reach the inward man. 


Of gladness in her blue eye gleaming — 


Nor (howsoe'er •* leam'd Thebans " doubt) 


But can the bosom bleed with woe. 


The inward woman, tnm without. 


Wliile joy is in the glances beaming? 


Methinks 'twere well if Nature could 


No, no ! — Yet, love, I will not chide ; 


(And Nature could, if Nature would) 


Although your heart were fond of roving. 


Some pithy, short descriptions write. 


Nor that, nor all the world beside 


On Ublets large, in black and white. 


Could keep your faithful boy from loving. 


Which she might hang about our throttles. 




Like labels upon physic-bottles ; 


You'll soon be distant from his eye. 


And where all men might read — but stay — 


And, with you, all that's worth possessing. 


As dialectic sages say, 


Oh ! then it wiU be sweet to die. 


The argument most apt and ample 


When life has loM its only blessing! 


For common use is the example. 



JUVENILE POEMS. 



57 



Tor iMtanee, then, if Katan't care 
Had not pu r trmy* d, m lines lo fiur, 
Tbe inward acml cif Lucy L-nd-n, 
ThiM is the Imbel she'd haire pinn'd on. 



Witlixn this form there lies eoBhrin'd 

The parest, brightest gem of mind. 

Tboagh Feeling's hand may sometimes throw 

Upon its charms the shade of woe, 

Tbe Inatze of the gem, when Teil*d, 

Shall be but mellow'd, not coDceal*d. 



Sinr, sirs, imagine, if yon're able, 
■ That Nature wrote a second label, 

Thej're her own words, — at least suppose so - 
; Aad boldly pin it on Pomposo. 

LABEI. BECONn. 

When I composed the fustian brain 
Of this redoahted Captun Vain, 
I I had at hand but few ingredients, 
And so was forc*d to use expedients. 
I pot therein some small diaceming, 
A grain of sense, a grain of learning ; 
And when I saw the yoid behind, 
I fillM it np with — froth and wind I 



TO JULIA. 

OM HEB BIBTSDAT. 

When Time was entwining the garland of years. 
Which to crown my beloved was given, 

Thoogh some of the leaves might be sallied with 
tears, 
Tet the flow*rs were all gather*d in heaven. 

And long may this garland be sweet to the eye. 

May its verdnre for ever be new ; 
Toong Love shall enrich it with many a sigh. 

And Sympathy nurse it with dew. 



A REFLECTION AT SEA. 

Sex how, beneath the moonbeam's smile. 
Yon little billow heaves its breast. 

And foams and sparkles for awhile, — 
Then mnrmnring subsides to rest 



Thus man, the sport of bliss and care. 
Rises on time's eventibl sea ; 

And, having swell'd a moment there. 
Thus mehs into eternity ! 



CLORIS AND FANNY. 

Cloris ! if I were Persia's king, 
Fd make my graceful queen of thee ; 

While Fankt, wild and artless thing. 
Should but thy humble handmaid be. 

There is but one objection in it — 
That, verily, Fm much afhud 

I should, in some unlucky minute. 
Forsake the mistress for the maid. 






THE SHIELD. 

Sat, did you not hear a voice of death I 
And did you not mark the paly form 

Which rode on the silvery mist of the heath. 
And sung a ghostly dirge in the storm? 

Was it the wailing bird of the gloom, 

That shrieks on the house of woe all night? 

Or a shivering fiend that flew to a tomb. 
To howl and to feed till the glance of light? 

*Twas not the death-bird's cry from the wood. 
For shivering fiend that hung on the blast ; 

'Twos the shade of Heldcric — man of blood — 
It screams for the guilt of days that are past 

See, how the red, red lightning strays, 

And scares the gliding ghosts of the heath I 

Now on the leafless yew it plays. 
Where hangs the shield of this son of death. 

That shield is blushing with murd'rous stains ; 

Long has it hung from the cold yew's spray ; 
It is blown by storms and wash'd by rains. 

But neither can take the blood away I 

Oft by that yew, on the blasted field. 
Demons dance to the red moon's light ; 

While the damp boughs creak, and the swinging 
shield 
Sings to the raving spirit of night ! 



68 MOORF/S WORKS. 




Upon hearing this piteous confession. 


TO JULIA, 


3fy Soul, looking tenderly at her. 


WEEPING. 


Declared, as for grace and discretion. 




He did not know much of the matter ; 


Oh ! if your tears are giv*n to care, 




If real woe disturbs your peace. 


•* But, to-morrow, sweet Spirit ! " he said. 


Come to my bosom, weeping fair 1 


" Be at home after midnight, and then 


And I will bid your weeping cease. 


** I will come when your lady's in bed. 




" And well talk o'er the subject again." 


But if with Fancy's Tision*d fears. 




With dreams of woe your bosom thrill ; 


So she whisper'd a word in his ear. 


You look so loTcly in your tears. 


I suppose to her door to direct him. 


That I must bid you drop them stilL 


And, just after midnight, my dear. 




Your polite little Soul may expect him. 


DREAMS. 




TO 


TO ROSA. 




WRITTEN DUBINO ILLNESS. 


In slumber, I prithee how is it 




That souls are oft taking the air. 


The wisest soul, by anguish torn. 


And paying each other a visit. 


Will soon unlearn the lore it knew ; 


While bodies are heaven knows where? 


And when the shrining casket's worn. 




The gem within will tarnish too. 


I^ast night, *tis in vain to deny it. 




Your Soul took a fancy to roam. 


But love's an essence of the soul. 


For I heard her, on tiptoe so quiet, 


Which sinks not with this chain of clay ; 


Come ask, whether mtiie was at home. 


\Miich throbs beyond the chill control 




Of with'ring pain or pale decay. 


And mine let her in with delight. 




And they talked and they laugh*d the time 


And surely, when the touch of Death 


through; 


Dissolves the spirit's earthly tics. 


For, when souls come together at night. 


Love still attends th' immortal breath. 


There is no saying what they mayn't do ! 


And makes it purer for the skies I 


And your little Soul, heaven bless her ! 


Oh Rosa, when, to seek its sphere. 


Ilad much to complain and to say. 


My soul shall leave this orb of men, 


Of how sadly you wrong and oppress her 


That love which form'd its treasure here, 


By keeping her prison'd all day. 


Shall be its 6etf of treasures then! 


«« If I happen," said she, «« but to steal 


And as, in fieibled dreams of old. 


** For a peep now and then to her eye. 


Some air-bom genius, child of time, 


" Or, to quiet the fever I feel. 


Presided o'er each star that roll'd. 


** Just venture abroad on a sigh ; 


And track'd it through iu path sublime ; 


** In an instant she frightens me in 


So thou, fair pbmet, not unled, 




Shalt through thy mortal orbit stray ; 


** For fear I should stray into sin, 


Thy lover's shade, to thee still wed. 


" Or, what is still worse, into error I 


Shall linger round thy earthly way. 


** So, instead of displaying my graces. 


Let other spirits range the sky, 


** By daylight, in bmguage and mien. 


And play around each starry gem i 


** I am shut up in comers and places. 


I'll bask beneath that lucid eye. 


'' Where truly I blush to be seen!" 





JUVENn.E POEMS. «9 

1 


Aid win dM hcKt dan MM to beat, 


The learned P^M look a psft yooig tilings 


And when tlist bniidk at ]ag& « ftce» 




Then, Ron, •onl to tool well bwcC, 


And plnck aometimca a <imll from his wing. 


1 And mingle to eternity I 


To indite her hillet-doax with. 




Poor Cloe woold give for a well-fledg*d pair 


f 


Her only eye, if you'd ssk it ; 




1 


And Tabitha begg'd, old toothless fiur. 


SONG. 


For the youngest Love in the basket 




Come buy my Loves, &c &c. 


Tn wreath joa wore, the wreath yon wore 




b &ir — hat oh, how fiur. 




If ^ity^ hand had stolen from Loto 
One leaf to mm^ there 1 


One worth them all together ; 
At sight of her dear looks of shame, 


If ererj rooe with goU were tied. 


He smil'd, and pron*d his feather. 




She wish*d the boy— 'twas more than whim— 


Ooe fiided leaf where Lore had sigh'd 


Her looks, her sighs betray'd it ; 


Were fweetlj worth them alL 


But kisses were not enough for him, 




I aak'd a heart, and she paid it ! 


The wreath yoa wore, the wreath yoa wore 


Good-by, my Loves, 


Dor emhkm well may be ; 


Good-by, my Ix>ves, 


Its bloom is yooTB, but hopeless Lore 


'Twould make you smile to've seen us 


Must keep its tears for me. 


First trade for this 




Sweet child of bliss. 




And then nurse the boy between us. 


THE SALE OF LOVES. 


I DBEAMT that, in the Paphian grores. 




My nets by moonlight laying. 




I canght a flight of wanton Lores, 


TO 


Among the rote-beds playing. 
Some jnst had left their sUv'tj shell. 






While some were full in feather; 


The world had just begun to steal 


So pretty a lot of Loves to sell. 


Each hope that led me lightly on ; 


Were ncrer yet strong together. 


I felt not, as I us'd to feel, 


Come buy my Lores, 


And life grew dark and love was gone. 


Come buy my Lores, 




Ye dames and rose-lipp'd misses! — 


No eye to mingle sorrow's tear. 


TheyYe new and bright. 


No lip to mingle pleasure's breath. 


The cost is light. 


No circling arms to draw me near — 


For the coin of this isle is kisses. 


'Twas gloomy, and I wish'd for death. 


First Cloris cam^ with looks sedate, 
Their coin on ner lips was ready; 


But when I saw that gentle eye. 


Oh ! something seem'd to tell me then. 


•* I boy," qnoth she, ** my Love by weight. 


Tliat I was yet too young to die. 


*• Foil grown, if you please, and steady." 


And hope and bliss might bloom again. 


•* Let mine be light," said Fanny, " pray— 




" Soch lasting toys ondo one ; 


With every gentle smile that crost 


•* A light little Love that will htft to-day,— 


Your kindling cheek, you lighted home 


*• To-morrow 111 sport a new one.** 


Some feeling, which my heart had lost. 


Come buy my Loves, 


And peace, which fiir had leam'd to roam. 


Come buy my Loves, 




Te dames and rose-lipp*d misses! — 


'Twas then indeed so sweet to live. 


There's some will keep. 


Hope look'd so new and Love so kind. 


Some light and cheap. 


That, though I mourn, I yet forgive 


At from ten to twenty kisses. 


The ruin they have left behind. 



GO 



MOORE'S WORKS. 



I ooald have lov*d you — oh, so well I — 
The dream, that wishing boyhood knows. 

Is bat a bright, beguiling spell, 
That only lives while passion glows : 

But, when this early flush declines. 

When the heart's sunny morning fleets, 

You know not then how close it twines 
Round the first kindred soul it meets. 

Yes, yes, I could have loVd, as one 

Who, while his youth's enchantments fall, 

Finds something dear to rest upon, 
Which pays him for the loss of all 



Nbybb mind how the pedagogue proses, 

You want not antiquity's stamp ; 
A lip, that such fragrance discloses. 

Oh ! never should smell of the lamp. 

Old Cloe, whose withering kiss 

Hath long set the Loves at defiance. 

Now, done with the science of bliss. 
May take to the blisses of science. 

But for you to be buried in books — 

Ah, Fanny, they're pitiful sages. 
Who could not in one of your looks 

Read more than in millions of pages. 

Astronomy finds in those eyes 
Better light than she studies above ; 

And Music would borrow your sighs 
As the melody fittest for Love. 

Your Arithmetic only can trip 

If to count your own charms you endeavour ; 
And Eloquence glows on your lip 

When you swear, that you'll love me for ever. 

Thus you see, what a brilliant alliance 

Of arts is assembled in you ; — 
A course of more exquisite science 

Man never need wish to pursue. 

And, oh ! •— if a Fellow like me 

May confer a diploma of hearts, 
With my lip thus I seal your degree, 

My divine little Mistress of Arts I 



ON THE 

DEATH OF A LADY. 

Sweet spirit I if thy airy sleep 

Nor sees my tears nor hears my sighs. 

Then will I weep, in anguish weep, 
Till the last heart's drop fills mine eyes. 

Qut if thy sainted soul can feel. 

And mingles in our misery ; 
Then, then my breaking heart I'll seal — 

Thou shalt not hear one sigh from me. 

The beam of mom was on the stream. 
But sullen clouds the day deform : 

Like thee was that young, orient beam. 
Like death, alas, that sullen storm I 

Thou wert not form'd for living here. 
So link'd thy soul was with the sky ; 

Yet, ah, we held thee all so dear, 
We thought thou wert not form'd to die. 



INCONSTANCY. 

And do I then wonder that Julia deceives me, 
When surely there's nothing in nature more 
common? 
She vows to be true, and while vowing she leaves 
me — 
And could I expect any more from a woman ? 

Oh, woman I your heart is a pitiful treasure ; 

And Mahomet's doctrine was not too severe. 
When he held that you were but nuiterials of plea- 
sure. 
And reason and thinking were out of your 
sphefe. 

By your heart, when the fond sighing lover can 
win it, 
He thinks that an age of anxiety's paid ; 
But, oh, while he's blest, iM him die at the 
minute — 
If he live but a day, hell be surely betray'd. 



THE NATAL GENIUS. 

A DUUM. 

To 

THE MORNING OF HER DIRTHDAT. 

In witching slumbers of the night, 
I dreamt I was the airy sprite 
That on thy natal moment smil'd ; 



JUVENILE POEMS. 



61 



Aad thoogiit I waAed on my wing 
TboM flowYs which in Elynmn spring. 
To doVn m J lorely mortal child. 

With oliTe^branch I boond thy head. 
Heart's emse along thy path I shed. 

Which was to bloom throogh all thy years ; 
Nor yet did I forget to bind 
Lore's roses, with his myrtle twin'd. 

And dew'd by sympathetic tears. 

Soch was the wild bat precious boon 
Which Fancy, at her magic noon, 

Bade me to Nona's image pay ; 
And were it thns my &te to be 
Thy little gnardian deity. 

How blest aroond thy steps Fd play I 

Thy life shonld glide in peace along. 
Calm as some lonely shepherd's song 

That's heard at distance in the grove ; 
No cloud shonld erer dim thy sky, 
No thorns along thy pathway lie, 

Bnt all hfi beanty, peace, and love. 

Indulgent Time shonld never bring 
To thee one blight npon his wing, 

So gently o'er thy brow he'd fly ; 
And death itself should but be felt 
lake that of day beams, when they melt, 

Bright to the last, in evening's sky I 



ELEGIAC STANZAS, 

SUPPOSED TO BE WRITTEN BT JULIA, 
ON TBI DBATH OF HSR BBOTHBR. 

Though sorrow long has worn my heart ; 

Though every day Fve counted o'er 
Hath brought a new and quick'ning smart 

To wounds that rankled fresh before ; 

Though in my earliest life bereft 
Of tender links by nature tied ; 

Though hope deceiv'd, and pleasure left ; 
Though friends betray'd and foes belied ; 

I still had hopes — for hope will stay 

After the sunset of delight ; 
So like the star which ushers day, 

We scarce can think it heralds night ! — 



I hop'd that, after all its strife. 

My weary heart at length should rest, 

And, ftdnting ftom the waves of life. 
Find harbour in a brother's breast 

That brother's breast was warm with truth. 
Was bright with honour's purest ray ; 

He was the dearest, gentlest youth — 
Ah, why then was he torn away ? 

He should have stay'd, have linger'd here 
To soothe his Julia's every woe ; 

He should have chas'd each bitter tear. 
And not have caus'd those tears to flow. 

We saw within his soul expand 
The ftruits of genius, nurs'd by taste ; 

While Science, with a fost'ring hand. 
Upon his brow her chaplet plac'd. 

We saw, by bright degrees, his mind 

Grow rich in all that makes men dear ; — 

Enlighten'd, social, and refin'd. 
In friendship firm, in love sincere. 

Such was the youth we lov'd so well. 
And such the hopes that fkte denied ; — 

We lov'd, but ah I could scarcely tell 
How deep, how dearly, till he died I 

Close as the fondest links could strain, 
Twin'd with my very heart he grew ; 

And by that fate which breaks the chain. 
The heart is almost broken too. 



TO THE LARGE AND BEAUTIFUL 

MISS , 

IN ALLUSION TO SOME PAKTNBRSHIP IN A LOTTBRT fHABB. 

IMPROMPTU. 



— E^pari- 



Xiwj. 



In wedlock a species of lottery lies. 

Where in blanks and in prizes we deal ; 

But how comes it that you, such a capital prize, 
Should so long have remain'd in the wheel ? 

If ever, by Fortune's indulgent decree, 

To me such a ticket should roll, 
A sixteenth, lleav'n knows I were sufficient for 
me; 

For what could / do with the whole ? 



62 



MOORE'S WORKS. 



A DREAM. 

I THOUGHT this heart enkindled lay 
On Capid*8 huming shrine : 

I thought he stole thy heart away. 
And ph&c*d it near to mine. 

I saw thy heart hegin to melt. 

Like ice hefore the sun ; 
Till hoth a glow congenial felt. 

And mingled into one ! 



TO 



With all my soul, then, let ns part. 
Since both are anxious to be free ; 

And I will send you home your heart, 
If you will send back mine to me, 

WeVe had some happy hours together. 
But joy must often change its wing ; 

And spring would be but gloomy weather. 
If we had nothing else but spring. 

*Tis not that I expect to find 

A more devoted, fond, and true one. 

With rosier cheek or sweeter mind — 
Enough for me that she's a new one. 

Thus let us leave the bower of love, 
Where we have loiter'd long in bliss ; 

And you may down that pathway rove, 
While I shall take my way through this. 



ANACREONTIC. 

•* She never looked so kind before — 
" Yet why the wanton's smile recall ? 

•* Fve seen this witchery o'er and o'er, 
** 'Tis hollow, vain, and heartless all !" 

Thus I said and, sighing, drain'd 
The cup which she so late had tasted $ 

Upon whose rim still fresh remained 
The breath, so oft in falsehood wasted. 

I took the harp, and would have sung 
As if 'twere not of her I sang ; 

But still the notes on Lamia hung — 
On whom but Lamia could they hang f 



Those eyes of hers, that floating shine. 
Like diamonds in some Eastern river ; 

That kiss, for which, if worlds were mine, 
A world for every kiss I'd give her. 

That fVame so delicate, yet warm'd 
With flushes of love's genial hue ; — 

A mould transparent, as if form'd 
To let the spirit's light shine through. 

Of these I sung, and notes and words 

Were sweet, as if the very air 
From Lamia*s lip hung o'er the chords. 

And Lamia's voice still warbled there ! 

But when, alas, I tum'd the theme, 
And when of vows and oaths I spoke. 

Of truth and hope's seducing dream — 
The chord beneath my finger broke. 

False harp! fklse woman! — such, oh, such 
Are lutes too ftrail and hearts too willing ; 

Any hand, whate'er its touch. 
Can set their chords or pulses thrilling. 

And when that thrill is most awake. 

And when you think Heav'n's joys await you. 
The nymph will change, the chord will break — 

Oh Love, oh Music, how I hate you ! 



TO JULIA 

I SAW the peasant's hand unkind 
From yonder oak the ivy sever ; 

They seem'd in very being twin'd ; 
Yet now the oak is fresh as ever ! 

Not so the widow'd ivy shines : 
Tom from its dear and only stay. 

In drooping widowhood it pines, 
And scatters all its bloom away. 

Thus, Julia, did our hearts entwine. 

Till Fate disturbed their tender ties : 
Thus gay indifference blooms in thine. 

While mine, deserted, droops and dies I 



HYMN 
OF A VIRGIN OF DELPHI, 

AT THE TOMB OF HER MOTHER. 

Oh, lost, for ever lost — no more 
Shall Vesper light our dewy way 





^^^^^ 


^^^^^ 


■ 


Il 

■ L 


JUVENILE POEMS, m 




H 


Alon^ the rotkn of Crissa's shore. 


4 


I To h jmn the ^ding fires of day i 


SYMPATHY. ' 






No nfeore to Tempi's distant rale 


TO JULIA. 






In bolj mnslxigs shall we roain, 








TliKMig^ aummer's glow and wluter^s gale. 


ihie jUiO th Dulla V<*nui, Soi|.nmA* 






To hear the mystic chaplets home. ) 


Dim hearts, my love, were form'd to be 




1 *T«iw tbeD my sculps expAnding seaU 


The genuine twins of Sympathy, 




1 Bj naiare irsnn'd and led by thee, 


They live with one seu&utioa : 






In every breexe was taught to feel 


In joy or grief, but most in love, 






Th« breathings of a Deity, 


Like chords io unison they move, 






Guide of my heart I still hoTering round. 


And thrill with like vibration. 






Thj looks, thy words are still niy own^ — 








1 aee thee raklog &om the ground 


How oft I've heard thee fondly say^ 






Some laurel, by the winds oVrthrown, 


Thy vital pulse shall ceas« to play 






And bear thee say, ** This humble bough 


When mine no more is moving ; 








Since, now, to feci a Joy alone 






" Andt though it droop ia laog^ior now, 


Were worse to thee tliati feeling none 






** Shall fioorish on the Delphic shrine I 


So tiriim*d are we in loving I 




^U. ^ Thus, in tbe vale of earthly scnsi.'. 






HP ** Tbongli nink awhile tJi^ spirit lies, 
** A -?iewk« hand shall cull it thence, 








M 


*^ To htoom immortal m the skies 1" 


THE TEAB. 


^ 




AH that the young should feel and know. 


Oh beds of snow the moonbeam slept, 


1 




By thee was taoght so sweetly well, 


And chilly was the midnight gloom, 






Thy words fell soft as venial snow» 


Wlieo by the dainp«grave Ellen wept — 






And all wna brightness where they fell I 


Fond maid j it was her Lindor's tomb ! 






Fond soother of my infant tear. 








Fond sharer of my infant joy. 


A warm tear guah'd, the wintry air 






Is not thy shade still Lingering here? 


Congcal'd it as it tJow'd away : 






Am J not still thy soul's employ? 


All night it lay an ice*drop there. 






Oh jres^ — and, as in former days. 


At morn it glitter'd in the ray. 






When, meeting on the sacred mount. 








Our nrmphs awakM their choral lays, , 


An angel, wandVing from her sphere, 






And danc'd aronnd rassotis' fount ; 


Who saw this bright, this frozen gem. 






As then, 'twas all thy wish and care, 


To dewH?y'd Pity brought the tear, 






That mine should he the simplest mien. 


And himg it on her diadem l 






3Iy lyre and voice the 8 w idlest there. 








My foot the lightest o'er the green : 
Sb stiU, each look and step to mould, 














Thy guardian care is roond me spread. 


THE SNAKE. 






Arranging eTeiy snowy fold, 


^a- -ai-Bi*^ v.^A'^ ^^ ASk^LJii 






And guiding every mazy tread. 


My love and I, tbe other day, 






Andf when I lead the hymning choir. 


Within a myrtk' arhour lay, 






Thy spirit still, unseen and free, 


When near us, from a rosy bed. 








A little Snake put forth its head. 






And weds them into harmony^ 








Flow, Flistus, flow, thy murmuring wave 


"See,** said the maid with thoughtfttl eyes — ► 






Shall never drop its silv'ry tear 


" Yonder the fatal emblem lies I 






Upon so pure, so blcAt a grave. 


" Who could expect such hidden harm 






To memory so entirely dear I 


*' Beneath tbe rose's smiling charm ? '* 






* Tb« laurel. Tot thi?ct»inmon u>et{)rthet«tnpl«', for Attarn. 


the temple wpu f»H|i(iniUEy rtinBtnirtcd ; and Fhjtarch fxyt^ In 






Ifif llk^ »h»it Anil tcrrcfvlng the pavement, was suppliml tfy a 


hU Illalogue on Mu*ic^ " Thr? youlh who btlnjfi llie Temple 






traenesrtfie founiain of Co^UlIa ; hut upon all hnpnrt-iint 


laurel to Delphi h ii!w«yi atlendtd bf a ptayf^ron th« flut«/* 






ftHMtWit. Ilii| ■lilt toT'-'tqp* for their laurel. We fiiid, (n 










AiA^cwf *itf»ftM^TH mttXnryu. 




1 


L 


^ 



64 



MOORE'S WORKS. 



Nc\rcr did grave remark occur 
Less a-propoa than this firom her. 

I rose to kill the snake, but she, 
Half-smiling, pray'd it might not be. 
** No,** said the maiden — and, alas, 

Her eyes spoke volumes, while she said it — 
** Long as the snake is in the grass, 

" One majf, perhaps, have cause to dread it : 
** But, when its wicked eyes appear, 

** And when we know for what they wink so, 
** One must be very simple, dear, 

** To let it wound one — don't you think so ? * 



TO ROSA. 



Is the song of Rosa mute ? 
Once such lays inspir'd her lute ! 
Never doth a sweeter song 
Steal the breezy lyre along. 
When the wind, in odours dying. 
Wooes it with enamoured sighing. 

Is my Rosa's lute anstrung ? 
Once a talc of peace it sung 
To her lover's throbbing breast — 
Then was he divinely blest 1 
Ah I but Rosa loves no more. 
Therefore Rosa's song is o*er ; 
And her lute neglected lies ; 
And her boy forgotten sighs. 
Silent lute — forgotten lover — 
Rosa's love and song are over I 



ELEGIAC STANZAS. 

Sic Jurat perlre. 

When wearied wretches sink to sleep, 
ilow heavenly soft their slumbers lie I 

How sweet is death to those who weep. 
To those who weep and long to die I 

Saw you the soft and grassy bed. 

Where flow*reU deck the green earth's breast? 
'Tis there I wish to lay my head, 

'Tis there I wish to sleep at rest. 

Oh, let not tears embalm my tomb, — 
None but the dews at twilight given I 

Oh, let not sighs disturb the gloom, — 
None bat the whisp'ring winds of heaven I 



LOVE AND MARRIAGE. 

Equ0 breri verbo ferre perenne malum. 

S■cl7^D^•, elef. vU. 

Still the question I must parry. 
Still a wayward truant prove : 

Where I love, I must not marry ; 
Where I marry, cannot love. 

Were she fairest of creation. 
With the least presuming mind ; 

Learned without affectation ; 
Not deceitful, yet refin'd ; 

Wise enough, but nerer rigid ; 

Gay, but not too Ughtly free *, 
Chaste as snow, and yet not frigid ; 

Fond, yet satisfied with me : 

Were she all this ten times over. 
All that heav'n to earth allows, 

I should be too much her lover 
Ever to become her spouse. 

]x>ve will never bear enslaving ; 

Summer garments suit him best ; 
Bliss itself is not worth having. 

If we're by compulsion blest 



ANACREONTIC. 

I fill'd to thee, to thee I drank, 
I nothing did but drink and fill ; 

The bowl by turns was bright and blank, 
'Twas drinking, filling, drinking stilL 

At length I bid an artist paint 
Thy image in this ample cup, 

That I might see the dimpled saint. 
To whom I quaff*d my nectar up. 

Behold, how bright that purple lip 
Now blushes through the wave at me ; 

Every roseate drop I sip 

Is just like kissing wine fh)m thee. 

And still I drink the more for this ; 

For, ever when the draught I drain. 
Thy lip invites another kiss, 

And — in the nectar flows again. 

So, here's to thee, my gentle dear. 
And may that eyelid never shine 

Beneath a darker, bitterer tear 
Than bathes it in this bowl of mine I 



JUVENILE POEMS. 



65 



THE SURPRISE. 

Chlobib, I fwear, bj all I erer swore. 
That from this hoar I ihall not lore thee more. — 
" What ! lore no more? Oh I why this altered vow ?** 
Becanse I canmol love thee wure — than now I 



TO MISS 



03C HEB ASKINO THE AUTHOR WHT SHE I 
SLEEPLESS NIGHTS. 

Fll ask the sylph who round thee flies, 
And in thy breath his pinion dips. 

Who sons him in thy radiant eyes. 
And &ints npon thy sighing lips : 

1*11 ask him where*s the veil of sleep 
That ns'd to shade thy looks of light ; 

And why those eyes their yigil keep. 
When other sons are sank in night ? 

And I will say — her angel breast 
Has nerer throbb'd with guilty sting ; 

Her bosom is the sweetest nest 

Where Slumber could repose his wing I 

And I will say — her cheeks that flush. 

Like vernal roses in the sun. 
Have ne'er by shame been taught to blush. 

Except for what her eyes have done ! 

Then tell me, why, thou child of air! 

Does slumber from her eyelids rove ? 
What is her heart's impassion'd care ? — 

Perhaps, oh sylph I perhaps, tis love. 



THE WONDER. 

Come, tell me wh^re the maid is found. 
Whose heart can love without deceit. 

And I will range the world around. 
To sigh one moment at her feet 

Oh! tell me where*s her sainted home. 
What air receives her blessed sigh, 

A pilgrimage of years I'll roam 
To catch one sparkle of her eye ! 



And if her check be smooth and bright. 
While truth within her bosom lies, 

1*11 gaze upon her mom and night. 

Till my heart leave me through my eyes. 

Show me on earth a thing so rare, 

ril own all miracles are true ; 
To make one maid sincere and fair. 

Oh, *tis the utmost Heav'n can do ! 



LYING. 



Che con le lor bugie piyon dlvini. Mauro d'Arcano. 

I DO confess, in many a sigh. 
My lips have breath'd you many a lie; 
And who, with such delights in view, 
Would lose them, for a lie or two ? 

Nay, — look not thus, with brow reproving ; 
Lies are, my dear, the soul of loving. 
If half we tell the girls were true. 
If half we swear to think and do, 
Were aught but lying's bright illusion, 
This world would be in strange confusion. 
If ladies' eyes were, every one, 
As lovers swear, a radiant sun. 
Astronomy must leave the skies, 
To learn her lore in ladies' eyes. 
Oh, no — believe me, lovely girl. 
When nature turns your teeth to pearl, 
Your neck to snow, your eyes to fire, 
Your amber locks to golden wire, 
Then, only then can Heaven decree, 
That you should live for only me, 
Or I for you, as night and mom. 
We've swearing kist, and kissing swom. 

And now, my gentle Lints to clear. 
For once I'll tell you truth, my dear. 
Whenever you may chance to meet 
Some loving youth, whose love is sweet. 
Long as you're false and he believes you, 
Long as you trust and he deceives you, 
So long the blissful bond endures, 
And while he lies, his heart is yours : 
But, oh ! you've wholly lost the youth 
The instant that he tells you truth. 



ANACREONTIC. 

Friend of my soul, this goblet sip, 
'Twill chase that pensive tear; 



66 



MOORE'S WORKS. 



'Tls not BO sweet as woman's lip, 
But, oh! 'tu» more siocero. 
Like her delusive tH^am, 

'Twill steal away thr mindj 
But, triMjr than love's dream, 
It leaves no sting behind* 

Comei twine the wrenth, thy brows to «hadc ; 

These flow'r* were cull'd nt noon ; -» 
Like woman's love the rose will fiidL-, 
But, uh 1 not half so sooq. 

For though the flower*» decay'd, 

Its fra^ince is not oVt j 
But once when love's betray 'd, 
ItA iwect life hloomi no mons* 



TTTF. PniLOSOPnER ARISTrPPlTS » 

TO A LAMP 
WHlCn HAD BEEN GIVKS, HIM BY LAtS. 

Dulcit eonieU iM'ttill lueema> 

'^ Ou I love the Lamp^ (my Mistress said), 
** The faithful Lamp tbut, many a night, 

" Besidn thy Lais* louelv hed 
** Has kept it« little watch of light 

* Full often hits it seen her weep, 

*' And fix her eye upon it* tianie, 

* Till, weary, she haii sunk to sleep, 
" Me])eating her belovedV name. 

* Then love the Lamp — -'twill often lead 

" Thy step through learning's sacred way ; 
^ And when those stud toils eyes shall rend, 
** At midnight, by tts lonely ray, 



* Tl d(MS iMM upftmr to bsv« been v«»y difficult to h«coraie 
A ptill(t»opli«v amotifil ikm madmtU. A moderat* M:or« of 
IttATninir, with « cnntl(l(«rahl« portion of cotilidcDoe, and Jiut 
»tt MiMiJiili to pr*jdtt>r' «ti ocGiuloiiat apopttth^fin, ( W in to 
liMr Ijiti) 4^ ltn« 4)U'i1incaltt>n> necKtury for Hw piirtM»e, 
I T*w* or Ji>c>p(#» of mw*l ul«ncc ir«fT« to v<?ry imp^TfectJf un4t4>r- 
ImAHMi ili«t the UmnAi^T t^f •« new ^tx\^ In r<imiirtg h\* ciUiciil 
de, inltfht cottkult rltlic*r tuney or l<*ti])i«rmiiiciit. and i^ljipt 
It tn iiU own p«.44Uin» an4 proprrttltki ; lo th«t Mjiliomfr, 
«i'tb a hull* iMMi-i^ h-Aritloir, inifiht hAvn AmirUhcd m a |>U1lo- 
»i>t,4ifT In ihoivf iViyt, anil womlit Itave r<«iutml but tl>cfiolli.h 
oftlKi tchciHjt* ta Itrcutn* (he rival of Ari«(tp|)U* io moralltj^. 
In ttoe •citncft of natiirn. tao, thouj|h »om* taltiabi* trulli» 
war* (KurovnrM] hf ihcm, thof •c<einr>4l luirdly to know tliay 
»tT« tnjt)i«, or at Itaat «r^r» u wrll Mtltflf^ witb errora ; 
and X«iio|i>haM«» «lio «aMft«d that iIm lUrt were 1foM»ua 
tloiidai llglit«d np«ir«ff7 nlilllt and tuttngulihwl again la th« 
SMfnlag, wai thou^ sad atf lad a plilloaopbtr. ai fvti^rallf 



" Of things euhlime, of nature's birth, 
** Of all that's bright in heaven or earthy 
** Oh, think that she, by whom 'twaa given, 
** Adorei thee more tlian earth or heaven I ** 

Yes — dear««l Lamp, by every charm 

On which thy midnight beam hofl hnngi* 

The bend reclin'd, the graceful arm 
Across the brow of ivory flung ; 

The heaving bosom, partly htd, 
The tcver'd lip's nn conscious nighs. 

The fringe that from the haJf-shnt Ud 
Adowo the cheek of rose* lies : 

By the«e, by all that bloom untold. 
And long as all shall choroi my heart, 

ru love my liule Lamp of gold — 
My I.Anip and I shall never part 

And often, as she smiling said. 

In fancy's hour, thy geaile rays 
Shall guide my visionary tread 

Through poesy's eDclianiiiig maze. 
Thy flame shall light the page refio'd, 

Where still we catch the Chian's breath. 

Where still the bard, though cold in death. 
Ha* left his soul miqueneh'd L»ehind, 
Or, o'er thy humbler legend shine, 

Oh man of A sera's dreary gludes I* 
To whom the nightly warbling Nine * 

A wand of iD.<;piration gave, * 
Pluck'd from the greenest tree, that shadci 

The crystal of Casialiu's wave* 

Then, turning to a purer lore, 
We*ll cull the sages* deep*hid store,* 
From Science steal her golden clue, 
And every mystic path pursue. 
Where Nature, far from vulgar eyes, 
I'h rough labyrinths of wonder flic*. 



M he ttbo antkipatod KowCom la drv«li»pjnf Iha arraofafnaiit 
of the utslrrrte. 

For this opinion of Xf»ni>pbaa««, •«• FliitArrh. da Pladi, 
Plilio«oph. lib. iL cap. IS. It U lm|ifi««tliU- to f**A tlit* 
trfatiie of Plutarch, vlthoot alieraatelf ^irikiMir tha K«otua, 
and tmllkns al iti« ali*urdltlM or tho pttllouiphpri. 

* The A»rlmt« had tt»»lr liirt^ms rubir\ilarUr or ttatU 
cltamLier Umpt, wbldi, at ih'> frmiioror Galieoiu Mid, "ntl 
crn* meroim^re;" aiM)> mMi it*» »ame eomacndalloa of m> 
cri«rr. Pranaguni addraaiCMi ti«r lamp in Arbtoplianea, EssJ^aC' 
Wv tnai' Jttdfl" bow fiuieinal tbajr ware, to ibe ute and nntwt- 
lUhmoat afthadr lanpa, l^mn Cba Ibmout tfinbolte Liuwina. 
vhirb «« tnd bi llM Boiaaniini Maaeum MIeh. Aag. Cauad, 
p. 157- 

* H«ilod, wbe tellt u* la malaficlioljr tartni of hit ^bttr't 
Algtit toib« arretrhed tillage aT Aacra. £^. •«« 'Htuf. v. U^L 

* E**v%tu* rriijrM^ «<tfia«JUi« arrtii ♦««•*< Thf»>f , v. tO» 
9 K,M4 f^9t rm^»rfm^ il4»» Im^^mi ifi^Mi »{«. M. V.tt^ 




r 


^^^^^^^^^^^ 


1 


L 


jm^ENJUE POEMS. 67 




r 


*T]S thus mj heart shill learn to know 


And, soon as night shall close the eye 




How fleeting is thh world below, 


Of heaven's yonug wanderer in the west j 






Where all that meets the morning light. 


Wlien seers are gaxing on the sky, 






Is duag'd before the fail of night I ^ 


To find their future orbs of rest j 






Then shall I take my trembling way. 






ru tell thee, aa 1 trim thy fire^ 


Unseen but to those worlds above, 


' 




'^ Swift, Bwift liie tide of being rans, 


And^ k'd by thy mysterious ray, 


1 




** And Tinie^ who bida thj flanie expire. 


Steal to the night- bower of my love. 






*• Will also queodi jron heaven of suns/* 








Oh, then if earth*! united power 
Can never chain one featherj hoar ; 










If erery print we leave to-day 








To*morrt>wV wave wiU sweep away ; 
Who pause« to inquire of heaven 


TO MRS. 


1 






Why were the fleeting treasures given. 


ON iLER BKAUnrUIs TRAKKLATION 01 




1 


The Bnnny days, the §hady nighu, 


VOITURE'S KISS. 




And all their brief but dear delightSf 








Which heaven has made for man to use. 


Mod ime tur mem l^vre 6fult lor* toute mtidin^. 






And man should think it criuic to luse ? 


Pour uvoiiri'r l« tnltl qui %m U v^ytre Ctolt j 
Idjiii en roe retiront, cUe rotu d^rriidre, 






Who thai has cull*d a fresh- blown rose 


Tant de ce doux pUUlr rfttnorrc Ik rettolt 






Will aak it why it breathes and glows, 


VoiTiras 






Unmindful of the blushing ray, 


How heav'nly was the pot-t's doom. 






Id whieh it shines its soul away ; 


To breathe his spirit through a kiss ^ 






t'omindful of the scented sigh, 


And lose within so sweet a tomb 




f 


With which it dies and loves to die. 


The trembling messenger of bllaal 






Flettfnre, thou only good on earth I « 


And, sure his soul rettini'd to feel 






One precious moment giv*ii to thee ^ 


That it again could ravish 'd be i 






Oh ! by my Lais* lip, 'tis worth 


For in the kiss that thoo didst steal, 






The sage*s immortality. 


His life and soul have fled to thee. 






Then Ikr be all the wisdom hence. 








That would our joys one hour delay ! 










Lore calla us to in youth*s bright day. 








If not ioon tasted, ^eets away. 


RONDEAU. 






Necr wert Ihou form'd, my Lamp, ti^ shed 


" Goon night I good night ! " — And is it so? 






Thy splendour on a lifeless page j — 


And must I from my Hosa go ? 






Whaie'er my blushing Laia said 


Oh Rosa, say ** Good night ! " once oiorej 






Of thoughtful lore and studies sage, 


And I'll repeat it o'er and oVr, 






'Twos mockery all — her glance of Joy 


Till the &rst glance of dawning light 






Told me thy dearest^ best employes 


Shall find us saying, still, " Good night" 








ductlon, be c»lU Hitn, " uti* nomrfUe crfiilure, qui ponrrii 




1 


mm «f fletacllliu th« Epitctlan. utd with the satnr imago bj 


emoprendre l«i chngcA le% pint »u1>Hmei, et en qui eit blen 




^^^ 


Scnecsa, la 9ham wt findi « beauUAil diffViiion of the tbouf ht 


■u-detiiu^ qui pourra ^ik[ltFr lei rnfrmf^a plaJti.Lri." Si^ h\$ 




^^1 


** Kcaao «•( PMAft. qui Tult prldie- Corpora tirjitm mplunCur 


V^tiiu Phftique. Thi» appear* to be one of ihe eJTaris nC 




^^B 




FfmttmeUe't ^lAntr^' of manner, for which the learned Pr»* 




^H 


ea hit que tidemuj oiMWi. Ego Ipte, duro loquor mutari 


lidtfat U 10 w<?ll and Imtlf ridkuleil Ui the AkakU of Vol- 




^^B 


Ipci^ muuiui fuiD/' ^e. 


tatre- 




^^ 


• AHiiipptii coo»t£irr«d motion ii the pHndple «f happ!- 


MaupertuU ma^ be thought to liave borrovinl rrom the iin- 






neM. in wh\ch kdra he dlOl-red (txtm the' EplcureAni^ vrho 


cicnt AHstljipiiii that lnil|»crlmiTiiilc thtMiry ofplpasiire* whitb 






looliiRt to « tute of repoM! lit the only true TohiptuouineM, 


he |]lBIi Mill forth In hli Esia! de Fhllosophiie Morale, aiid Tor 






and mTMd«d rvm Ibe too lirctf atfitatloat of pleuurv, u a 


wbith hf wju ta very juitly condemned. A rlilippm, nccord- 






vtolest Md unynci^ful denangeoai-nt of the tenfei. 


log to Lat^rtlilfi, held fstf htt^^tn n riimr^ ^h**y;f, which irrji- 








tlotisl lenUmeot boi been adopt<>d bjr MaupeituJi -, ** T^Jiit 






yhvr* la naxking the plrajiurt-i of »ruw! Rbori! the mhllmeit 


^n'oa at coaildftre que VittX pr^ieDt. totu lei pUriin lont du 






parmiU of mtdom. Speaking of the mfaiit maut In hli pro- 


ni#iii« ffrnre,'* Ac. Ac. 




1 


Fl 


1 



68 MOOKE'S WORKS. 

1 


And still ** Good night,** my Rosa, say — 




But whisper still, ** A minute stay ; ** 


WRITTEN IN A COMMONPLACE BOOK, 


And I will stay, and every minute 


CALLKO 


Shall hare an age of transport in it ; 


" THE BOOK OF FOLLIES ; " 


Till Time himself shall stay his flight. 


IM WMICll BTBIIV ONB THAT OmBO IT WAt TO CUifTBIBVIK MiMBTrilVO. 


To listen to our sweet " Good night.** 






TO THE BOOK OF FOLLIES. 


** Good night ! ** you*ll murmur with a sigh. 


This tribute's from a wretched elf, 


And tell me it is time to fly : 


Who hails thee, emblem of himself. I 


And I will vow, will swear to go. 


The book of life, which I have trac'd, 


While still that sweet voice murmurs " No I ** 


lias been, like thee, a motley waste 


Till slumber seal our weary sight — 


Of follies scribbled o'er and o'er, 


And then, my love, my soul, ** Good night I ** 


One folly bringing hundreds more. 




Some have indeed been writ so neat, | 




In characters so fair, so sweet, | 




That those who judge not too severely, 






Have said they lov'd such follies dearly : 




Yet still, O book I the allusion stands ; 


SONG. 


For these were penn*d hj female hands : 




The rest -— alas I I own the truth — 


Wht does azure deck the sky ? 


Have all been scribbled so uncouth 


•Tis to be like thy looks of blue ; 


That Prudence, with a with'ring look, 


Why is red the rose's dye? 


Disdainful, flings away the book. 


Because it is thy blushes* hue. 


Like thine, its pages here and there 


All that's fkir, by Love's decree. 


Have oft been stain'd with blots of care ; 


Has been made resembling thee ! 


And sometimes hours of peace, I own. 




Upon some fairer leaves have shown, 


Why is falling snow so white. 


White as the snowings of that heav'n 


But to be like thy bosom fair ? 


By which those hours of peace were given. 


Why are solar beams so bright ? 


But now no longer — such, oh, such 


That they may seem thy golden hair ! 


The bhist of Disappointment's touch ! — 


All that's bright, by Love's decree. 


No longer now those hours appear ; 


Has been made resembling thee ! 


Each leaf is sullied by a tear : 




Blank, blank is ev'ry page with care, 


Why are nature's beauties felt ? 


Not ev'n a folly brightens there. 


Oh ! 'tis thine in her we sec ! 


Will they yet brighten ? — never, never ! ' 


Why has music power to melt? 


Then shut the book, O God, for ever 1 


Oh I because it speaks like thee. 




All that*s sweet, by Love's decree. 




Has been made resembling thee ! 







TO ROSA. 


TO ROSA. 


Sat, why should the girl of my soul be in tears 




At a meeting of rapture like this. 


Like one who trusts to summer skies. 


When the glooms of the past and the sorrow of 


And puts his little bark to soa. 


years 


Is he who, lur'd by smiling eyes. 


Have been paid by one moment of bliss ? 


Consigns his simple heart to thee. 


. 




Arc they shed for that moment of blissful delight, 


For fickle is the summer wind. 


Which dwells on her memory yet ? 


And sadly may the bark be tost ; 


Do they flow, like the dews of the love* breathing 


For thou art sure to change thy mind. 


night. 


And then the wretched heart is lost ! 


From the warmth of the mm that has set ? 



JUVENILE POEMS. 



(Ni ! sweet U the tear on that langnithing smile. 
That CDule, whieh if loreliest then ; 

And if such are the dropi that delight can beguile, 
Thoa shalt weep them again and again. 



LIGHT SOUNDS THE HARP. 

LusBT soonda the harp when the combat is over, 
When heroes are resting, and joy is in bloom ; 
When laurels hang loose fh>m the brow of the 
knrer. 
And Copid makes wings of the warrior's plume. 
Bat, when the foe returns. 
Again the hero bums ; 
High flames the sword in his hand once more : 
The clang of mingling arms 
Is then the sound that charms. 
And bnien notes of war, that stirring trumpets 

pour; — 
Then, again comes the Harp, when the combat is 
orer — 
When heroes are resting, and Joy is in bloom — 
When laurels hang loose from the brow of the 
lover. 
And Cupid makes wings of the warrior's plume. 



Light went the harp when the War-God, reclining. 

Lay lull*d on the white arm of Beauty to rest. 
When round his rich armour the myrtle hung 
twining, 
And flights of young doves made his helmet 
their nest 

But, when the battle came, 
The hero*s eye breathed flame : 
Soon from his neck the white arm was flung ; 
While, to his wakening ear, 
No other sounds were dear 
But brazen notes of war, by thousand trumpets 

sung. 
But then came the light harp, when danger was 
ended. 
And Beauty once more luird the War-God to 
rest; 
When tresses of gold with his laurels lay blended. 
And flights of young doves made his helmet 
their nest 



Emti, #w «s^vrff T» yXimm fury' tfum. 
Kmi ftm Ttf fiftx^trru /tutf mt tuu x^if mht*, 



FROM 

THE GREEK OF MELEAGER.I 

Fill high the cup with liquid flame. 
And speak my Heliodora*8 name. 
Repeat its magic o'er and o*er. 
And let the sound my lips adore. 
Live in the breeze, till every tone. 
And word, and breath, speaks her alone. 

Give me the wreath that withers there. 

It was but last delicious night. 
It circled her luxuriant hair. 

And caught her eyes' reflected light 
Oh I haste, and twine it round my brow: 
•Tis all of her that's left me now. 
And see — each rosebud drops a tear. 
To flnd the nj-mph no longer here — 
No longer, where such heavenly charms 
As hers sftould be — within these arms. 



SONG. 



Fly from the world, O Bessy! to me. 

Thou wilt never find any sincerer ; 
m give up the world, O Bessy! for thee, 

I can never meet any that's dearer. 
Then tell me no more, with a tear and a sigh, 

That our loves will be censur'd by many; 
All, all have their follies, and who will deny 

That ours is the sweetest of any ? 

When your lip has met mine, in communion so 
sweet. 

Have we felt as if virtue forbid it ? — 
Have we felt as if heav'n denied them to meet ? — 

No, rather *twas heav'n that did it 
So innocent, love, is the joy we then sip. 

So little of wrong is there in it. 
That I wish all my errors were lodg'd on your lip. 

And I'd kiss them away in a minute. 

Then come to your lover, oh ! fly to his shed. 
From a world which I know thou despisest ; 

And slumber will hover as light o'er our bed 
As e'er on the couch of the wisest 



AtiM^u ^XifmrT0p litv (Mm, «v»i«s muvmw 

Bbcrck. Jnateet, ton. I. p. SB. 



70 MOORE'S WORKS. 


And when o*er oar pillow the tempest is driven. 


Then bid me not to despair and pine. 


And thou, pretty innocent, fearest. 


Fanny, dearest of all the dears ! 


I'll tell thee, it is not the chiding of heaven, 


The Love that's order'd to bathe in wine. 


Tis only our lullaby, dearest 


Would be sure to take cold in tears. 


And, oh I while we lie on onr deathbed, my love. 


Reflected bright in this heart of mine, 


Looking back on the scene of our errors. 


Fanny, dearest, thy image lies ; 


A sigh from my Bessy shall plead then above, 


But, ah, the mirror would cease to shine, 


And Death be disarm*d of his terrors. 


If dimm'd too often with sighs. 


And each to the other embracing will say. 


They lose the half of beauty's light. 


" Farewell! let ui hope we're forgiven." 


Who view it through sorrow's tear ; 


Thy last fading glance will illumine the way, 


And tis but to see thee truly bright 


And a kiss be our passport to heaven I 


That I keep my eye-beam clear. 




Then wait no longer till tears shall flow, 




Fanny, dearest — the hope is vain ; 
If sunshine cannot dissolve thy snow. 






I shall never attempt it with rain. 


THE RESEMBLANCE. 








Donna, quant' e pottibile, in altrui 




La detiata rostra forma Tera. 




Pktraro. SmmeU. 14. 


' 


Yes, if 'twere any common love. 


THE RING. 


That led my pliant heart astray. 


TO 


I grant, there's not a power above. 
Could wipe the faithless crime away. 








No ~ Lady! I^idy! keep the ring : 


But, 'twas my doom to err with one 


Oh ! think, how many a future year. 


In every look so like to thee 


Of placid smile and downy wing. 


That, underneath yon blessed snn, 


May sleep within its holy sphere. 


So fair there are but thou and she. 






Do not disturb their tranquil dream. 


Both bom of beauty, at a birth. 


Though love hath ne'er the myst'ry warm'd ; 


She held with thine a kindred sway, 


Yet heav'n will shed a soothing beam. 


And wore the only shape on earth 


To bless the bond itself hath form'd. 


That could have lur*d my soul to stray. 






But then, that eye, that burning eye, — 


Then blame me not, if false I be. 


Oh ! it doth ask, with witching power, 


'Twas love that wak'd the fond excess ; 


If heaven can ever bless the tie 


My heart had been more true to thee. 


Where love inwreaths no genial flower ? 


Had mine eye pris'd thy beauty less. 






Away, away, bewildering look. 




Or all the boast of virtue's o'er ; 




Go ~ hie thee to the sages book. 




And learn from him to feel no more. 


FANNY, DEAREST. 






I cannot warn thee : every touch. 


Yes ! had I leisure to sigh and mourn, 


That brings my pulses close to thine. 


Fanny, dearest, for thee I'd sigh ; 


Tells me I want thy aid as much — 


And every smile on my cheek should turn 


Ev'n more, alas, than thou dost mine. 


To tears when thou art nigh. 




But, between love, and wine, and sleep. 


Yet, stay, — one hope, one effort yet ^ 


So busy a life I live, 


A moment turn those eyes away. 


That even the time it would take to weep 


And let me, if I can, forget 


Is more than my heart can give. 


The light that leads my sool astny. 



JUVENILE POEMS. 



71 



Thoa say'st, that we were bom to meet. 
That our hearts bear one oommon seal; — 

Think, Lady, think, how manli deceit 
Can seem to sigh and feign to feeL 



When, o'er thy feoe lome gleam of thooght. 
Like daybeams through the morning air. 

Hath gradoal stole, and I hare cangfat 
The feeling ere it kindled there; 

The sympathy I then betray'd. 
Perhaps was bat the child of art. 

The guile of one, who long hath play*d 
With all these wily nets of heart 

Oh! thine is not my earliest tow; 

Thoo^ few the years I yet hare told. 
Canst thoa beliere I're lir'd till now, 

^Vith loveless heart or senses cold? 

No — other nymphs to joy and pain 

This wild and wandering heart bath mov'd ; 

With some it sported, wild and vain. 
While some it dearly, truly, lov'd. 

The cheek to thine I fondly lay. 
To theirs hath been as fondly laid; 

The words to thee I warmly say. 
To them have been as warmly said. 

Then, scorn at once a worthless heart. 
Worthless alike, or fix*d or free ; 

Think of the pure, bright soul thou art. 
And — love not me, oh love not me. 

Enoogh — now, turn thine eyes again ; 

What, still that look and still that sigh! 
Dost thou not feel my counsel then? 

Oh! no, beloved, — nor do L 



TO 

THE INVISIBLE GIRL. 

Thet try to persuade me, my dear little sprite, 
That you*re not a true daughter of ether and light. 
Nor have any concern with those fanciful forms 
That dance upon rainbows and ride upon storms ; 
That, in short, you*re a woman ; your lip and 

your eye 
As mortal as ever drew gods from the sky. 
Bat I will not believe them — no, Science, to you 
I have long bid a last and a careless adieu : 



Still flying from Nature to study her laws. 
And dulling delight by exploring its cause. 
You forget how superior, for mortals below, 
Is the fiction they dream to the truth that they 

know. 
Oh ! who, that has e*er enjoyed rapture complete. 
Would ask how we feel it, or wh^ it is sweet ; 
How rays are confused, or how particles fly 
Through the medium refin'd of a glance or a sigh ; 
Is there one, who but once would not rather have 

known it. 
Than written, with Harvey, whole volumes upon it? 

As for you, my sweet -voiced and invisible love, 
You must surely be one of those spirits, that rove 
By the bank where, at twilight, the poet reclines. 
When the star of the west on his solitude shines. 
And the magical fingers of fancy have hung 
Every breeze with a sigh, everj- leaf with a tongue. 
Oh ! hint to him then, *tis retirement alone 
Can hallow his harp or ennoble its tone ; 
Like you, with a veil of seclusion between. 
His song to the world let him utter unseen. 
And like you, a legitimate child of the spheres. 
Escape from the eye to enrapture the ears. 

Sweet spirit of mystery ! how I should love, 
In the wearisome ways I am fiited to rove. 
To have you thus ever invisibly nigh. 
Inhaling for ever your song and your sigh ! 
Mid the crowds of the world and the murmurs of 

care, 
I might sometimes converse with my nymph of the 

air. 
And turn with distaste from the clamorous crew, 
To steal in the pauses one whisper from you. 

Then, come and be near me, for ever be mine. 
We shall hold in the air a communion divine. 
As sweet as, of old, was imagined to dwell 
In the grotto of Numa, or Socrates' cell. 
And ofl, at those lingering moments of night. 
When the heart's busy thoughts have put slumber 

to flight. 
You shall come to my pillow and tell me of love, 
Such as angel to angel might whisper above. 
Sweet spirit! — and then, could you borrow the 

tone 
Of that voice, to my ear like some fairy-song 

known. 
The voice of the one upon earth, who has twin'd 
With her being for ever my heart and my mind. 
Though lonely and far from the light of her smile, 
An exile, and weary and hopeless the while. 
Could you shed for a moment her voice on my ear, 
I will think, for that moment, that Cars is near ; 



72 



MOORE'S WORKS. 



That she comes with consoling enchantment to 

speak. 
And kisses my eyelid and breathes on my cheek. 
And tells me, the night shall go rapidly by. 
For the dawn of our hope, of our heaven is nigh. 

Fair spirit ! if such be your magical power. 
It will lighten the lapse of full many an hour ; 
And, let fortune's realities frown as they will, 
Hope, fkncy, and Cara may smile for me still. 



THE RING.i 



Annulufl illo rirl. — Ovid. Amor. lib. U. eleg. 15. 

The happy day at length arriVd 

AVhen Rupert was to wed 
The fairest maid in Saxony, 

And take her to his bed. 

As soon as mom was in the sky. 

The feast and sports began ; 
The men admir*d the happy maid. 

The maids the happy man. 

In many a sweet device of mirth 

The day was pass'd along ; 
And some the featly dance amus*d. 

And some the dulcet song. 

The younger maids with Isabel 
Disported through the bowers. 

And deck'd her robe, and crown*d her head 
With motley bridal flowers. 

The matrons all in rich attire. 

Within the castle walls, 
Sat listening to the choral strains 

That echo'd through the halls. 

Young Rupert and his friends repaired 

Unto a spacious court. 
To strike the bounding tennis-ball 

In feat and manly sport 



I I khould be torry to think tbftt my (Heod bad any lerioas 
intratloiM of r^lfhtenlnf tb« nurtery by this ttory ; I ratber 
hope — tbouffb the manner of It leads me to doubC— that hb 
dctlgn waa to ridlcole that dlMempered taste which preliBn 
tboee moaitanorthe fancy to the *'ipedoM mlracola" of 



The bridegroom on his finger wore 
The wedding-ring so bright. 

Which was to grace the lily hand 
Of Isabel that night 

And fearing he might break the gem. 

Or lose it in the play. 
He look*d around the court, to see 

Where he the ring might lay. 

Now, in the court a statue stood. 
Which there fbll l^ng had been ; 

It might a Heathen goddess be. 
Or else, a Heathen queen. 

Upon its marble finger then 

He tried the ring to fit ; 
And, thinking it was safest there. 

Thereon he fhsten'd it 

And now the tennis sports went on, 

Till they were wearied all. 
And messengers annonnc*d to them 

Their dinner in the halL 

Young Rupert for his wedding-ring 

Unto the statue went ; 
But, oh, how shock'd was he to find 

The marble finger bent ! 

The hand was clos*d upon the ring 
With firm and mighty clasp ; 

In rain he tried, and tried, and tried, 
He could not lose the grasp ! 

Then sore snrpris*d was Rupert's mind- 

As well his mind might be ; 
** ni come,** quoth he, ** at night again, 

^ When none are here to see." 

He went unto the feast, and much 

He thought upon his ring ; 
And marveU'd sorely what could mean 

So yery strange a thing ! 

The feast was o*er, and to the court 

He hied without delay, 
ResolT*d to break the marble hand 

And force the ring away. 



I find, by a note in the manuscript, that he met with this 
story in a German author, Fromtmam mfom AucAmMns, 
book ill. part rl. cb. 18. On consultinf the work, I pereHre 
that Fromman quotes It flrom Beluaoensia, amoof many other 
stories equally diaboUeal and iatereetiat. B. 



JUVENILE POEMS. 



73 



Bat, mark a icnngcr wonder still — 

The ring was there no more. 
And yet the marhle hand nngraqp^d, 

Aikd open as before I 

He searehM the base, and all the court. 

Bat nocbing oonld he find ; 
Then to the castle hied he back 

With sore bewiUler^d mind. 

Within he foond them all in mirth. 

The night in dancing flew ; 
The Tooth another ring procnr'd. 

And none the adTentore knew. 

And now the priest has join'd their hands. 

The hoars of lore adrance : 
Rnpert almost forgets to think 

Upon the mom*s mischance. 

Within the bed ikir Isabel 

In blushing sweemess lay, 
Like flowers, half-open'd by the dawn. 

And waiting for the day. 

And Rnpert, by her lovely side. 

In yoathfbl beauty glows, 
Like PhcBbos, when he bends to cast 

His beams upon a rose. 

And here my song woold leave them both, 

Nor let the rest be told. 
If 'twere not for the horrid tale 

It yet has to nnfold. 

Soon Rnpert, 'twixt his bride and him, 

A death cold carcass found ; 
He saw it not, but thought he felt 

Its arms embrace him round. 

He started up, and then retum*d. 

But found the phantom still ; 
In vain he shrunk, it clipped him round. 

With damp and deadly chill 1 

And when he bent, tbe earthy lips 

A kiss of horror gave ; 
'Twas like the smell from chamel vaults. 

Or from the mouldering grave ! 

Ill fated Rupert ! — wild and loud 

Then cried he to his wife, 
" Oh ! save me from this horrid fiend, 

« My Isabel I my life ! " 

But Isabel had nothing seen. 

She look'd around in vain ; 
And much she moum'd the mad conceit 

That rack'd her Rupert's brain. 



At length from this invisible 
These words to Rupert came : 

(Oh God ! while he did hear the words 
What terrors shook his frame !) 

** Husband, husband, l*ve the ring 

•* Thou gav'st to-day to me ; 
" And thou*rt to me for ever wed, 

*' As I am wed to thee ! " 

And all the night the demon lay 

Cold-chilling by his side. 
And strain*d him with such deadly grasp. 

He thought he should have died. 

But when the dawn of day was near. 

The horrid phantom fled. 
And left th* affrighted youUi to weep 

By Isabel in bed. 

And all that day a gloomy cloud 
Was seen on Rupert*s brows ; 

Fair Isabel was likewise sad. 
But strove to cheer her spouse. 

And, as the day advanc*d, he thought 

Of coming night with fear : 
Alas, that he should dread to view 

The bed that should be dear ! 

At length the second night arriv'd. 
Again their couch they press*d ; 

Poor Rupert hop'd that all was o*er. 
And look'd for love and rest. 

But oh I when midnight came, again 

The fiend was at his side. 
And, as it strain'd him in its grasp. 

With howl exulting cried : — 

** Husband, husband, I*ve the ring, 
" The ring thou gav*st to me ; 

" And thou*rt to me for ever wed, 
*' As I am wed to thee I " 

In agony of wild despair, 

He started from the bed ; 
And thus to his bewilder'd wife 

The trembling Rupert said : 

^ Oh Isabel ! dost thou not see 

" A shape of horrors here, 
" Tbat strains me to its deadly kiss, 

** And keeps me from my dear ? *' 

** No, no, my love I my Rupert, I 

" No shape of horrors see ; 
** And much I mourn the phantasy 

" That keeps my dear tMm me." 



74 



MOORE'S WORKS. 



This night, just like the night before. 

In terrors pass'd aw^y. 
Nor did the demon vanish thence 

Before the dawn of day. 

Said Rupert then, ** My Isabel, 

" Dear partner of my woe, 
" To Father Austin's holy cave 

" This instant will I go." 

Now Austin was a reverend man« 

Who acted wonders maint — 
Whom all the country round believed 

A devil or a saint ! 

To Father Austin's holy cave 
Then Rupert straightway went ; 

And told him all, and ask'd him how 
These horrors to prevent. 

The Father heard the youth, and then 

Retir*d awhile to pray ; 
And, having pray'd for half an hour 

Thus to the youth did say : 

** There is a place where fotir roads meet, 

" Which I will tell to thee ; 
'* Be there this eve, at fall of night, 

** And list what thou shalt see. 

** Thou*lt see a group of figures pass 

" In strange disorder*d crowd, 
*' Travelling by torchlight through the nwds, 

** With noises strange and loud. 

** And one that's high above the rest, 

•* Terrific towering o'er, 
** Will make thee know him at a glance, 

** So I need say no more. 

** To him from me these tablets give, 

** They'll quick be understood ; 
** Thou need'st not fear, but give them straight, 

" I've scrawl'd them with my blood I " 

The night-fall came, and Rupert all 

In pale amazement went 
To where the cross-roads met, as he 

Was by the Father sent 

And lo ! a group of figures came 

In strange disorder'd crowd. 
Travelling by torchlight through the rotdi, 

With Doiaet stnuige and loud. 



And, as the gloomy train advanc'd, 

Rupert beheld horn far 
A female form of wanton mien 

High seated on a car. 

And Rupert, as he gaz'd upon 

The loosely vested dame. 
Thought of the marble statue's look, 

For hers was just the same. 

Behind her walk'd a hideous form, 
With eyeballs flashing death ; 

Whene'er he breath'd, a sulphur'd smoke 
Came burning in his breath. 

He 8eem*d the first of all the crowd, 

Terrific towering o'er ; 
•• Yes, yes," said Rupert, •* this is he, 

** And I need ask no more." 

Then slow he went, and to this fiend 

The tablets trembling gave. 
Who look'd and read them with a yell 

That would disturb the grave. 

And when he saw the blood-scrawl'd name. 

His eyes with ftiry shine ; 
** I thought," cries he, ** his time was out, 

** But he must soon be mine 1 " 

Then darting at the youth a look 
Which rent his soul with fear. 

He went unto the female fiend. 
And whisper'd in her ear. 

The female fiend no sooner heard 

Than, with reluctant look. 
The very ring that Rupert lost. 

She ttom her finger took. 

And, giving it unto the youth. 
With eyes that breath'd of hell. 

She said, in that tremendous voice, 
Which he remember'd well : 

" In Austin's name take back the ring, 

** The ring thou gav'st to me ; 
** And thou'rt to me no longer wed, 

** Nor longer I to thee.** 

He took the ring, the rabble pass'd. 

He home retum'd again ; 
His wife was then the happiest fiur, 

The happiest he of I 



JUVENILE POEMS. 



76 



TO 



W MEISIG HBft wrra A WHm TUl. AifO A MMOm OIKOLB. 

^p. KicxPBOi. Ai Oneirocritko. 

Per off the vestal veil, nor, oh I 

Let weeping angels Tiew it ; 
Your cheeks helie its virgin snow, 

And blush repenting through it 

Pat off the fatal xone yon wear ; 

The shining pearls around it 
Are tears, that fell firom Virtue there. 

The hoar when Love unbound it. 



WRITTEN IN THE BLANK LEAF 

OF 
A LADY'S COMMONPLACE BOOK. 

Here is one leaf reserved for me. 
From all thy sweet memorials free ; 
And here my simple song might tell 
The feelings thou must guess so well. 
Bat could I thus, within thj mind. 
One little vacant comer find. 
Where no impression yet is seen. 
Where no memorial yet hath been. 
Oh ! it should be my sweetest care 
To write my name for ever there I 



TO 

MRS. BL . 

WRITTEN IN HER ALBUM. 

They say that Love had once a book 
( The urchin likes to copy you), 

Where, all who came, the pencil took, 
And wrote, like us, a line or two. 

'Twos Innocence, the maid divine, 
Who kept this volume bright and fair. 

And saw that no unhallow*d line 

Or thought profane should enter there ; 

And daily did the pages fill 

With fond device and loving lore, 

And every leaf she tum'd was still 

More bright than that she tum'd before. 



Beneath the touch of Hope, how soft. 
How light the magic pencil ran ! 

Till Fear would come, alas, as oft. 

And trembling close what Hope began. 

A tear or two had dropp*d from Grief, 
And Jealousy would, now and then, 

Ruffie in haste some snow-white leaf. 
Which I>ovc had still to smooth again. 

But, ah ! there came a blooming boy. 
Who often tum'd the pages o*er. 

And wrote therein such words of joy. 
That all who read them sigh*d for more. 

And Pleasure was this spirit's name. 
And though so soft his voice and look. 

Yet Innocence, whene'er he came. 
Would tremble for her spotless book. 

For, oft a Bacchant cup he bore. 

With earth*s sweet nectar sparkling bright ; 
And much she fear'd lest, mantling o'er, 

Some drops should on the pages light. 

And so it chanc'd, one luckless night. 

The urchin let that goblet fall 
O'er the fair book, so pure, so white. 

And sullied lines and marge and all I 

In vain now, touch'd with shame, he tried 
To wash those fatal stains away ; 

Deep, deep had sunk the sullying tide. 
The leaves grew darker every day. 

And Fancy's sketches lost their hue, 
And Hope's sweet lines were all effac'd. 

And Love himself now scarcely knew 
AMiat Love himself so lately trac'd. 

At length the urchin Pleasure fled, 
(For how, alas ! could Pleasure stay?) 

And Love, while many a tear he shed. 
Reluctant flung the book away. 

The index now alone remains. 
Of all the pages spoil'd by Pleasure, 

And though it bears some earthy stains, 
Yet Memory counts the leaf a treasure. 

And oft, they say, she scans it o'er, 

And oft, by this memorial aided. 
Brings back the pages now no more. 

And thinks of lines that long have faded. 

I know not if this tale be true. 

But thus the simple facts are stated ; 

And I refer their truth to you. 
Since Love and you are near related. 



76 



MOORE'S WORKS. 



TO 

CARA, 

AFTER AN INTERVAL OF ABSENCE. 

CoNCEAL*D within the shady wood 
A mother left her sleeping child, 

And flew, to cull her rustic food. 
The fruitage of the forest wild. 

But storms upon her pathway rise. 
The mother roams, astray and weeping ; 

Far from the weak appealing cries 
Of him she left so sweetly sleeping. 

She hopes, she fears ; a light is seen. 
And gentler blows the night wind's breath ; 

Tet no — *tis gone — the storms are keen. 
The infimt may be chill'd to death I 

Perhaps, er^n now, in darkness shrouded, 
His little eyes lie cold and still ; — 

And yet, perhaps, they are not clouded. 
Life and lore may light them stilL 

Thus, Cara, at our last fiurewell. 

When, fearful er'n thy hand to touch, 

I mutely ask'd those eyes to tell 
If parting pain*d thee half so much : 

I thought, — and, oh! forgive the thought. 
For none was e*er by love inspir*d 

Whom &ncy had not also taught 
To hope the bliss his soul desir'd. 

Tes, I did think, in Cara*s mind. 

Though yet to ih^i sweet mind unknown, 
I left one infant wish behind. 

One feeling, which I calFd my own. 

Oh blest ! though but in fancy blest, 

How did I ask of Pity's care, 
To shield and strengthen, in thy breast. 

The nursling I had cradled there. 

And, many an hour, bcguil'd by pleasure. 
And many an hour of sorrow numb*ring, 

I ne'er forgot the new-bom treasure, 
I left within thy bosom slumbVing. 

Perhaps, indifference has not chill'd it. 
Haply, it yet a throb may give — 

Tet, DO — perhaps, a doubt has kill'd it ; 
Say, dearest — doeM the feeling live ? 



TO 

CARA, 

ON THE DAWNING OF A NEW TEAR's DAY. 

When midnight came to close the year, 
We sigh'd to think it thus should take 

The hours it gave us — hours as dear 
As sympathy and love could make 

Their blessed moments, — every sun 

Saw us, my love, more closely one. 

But, Cara, when the dawn was nigh 
Which came a new year's light to shed, 

That smile we caught fh)m eye to eye 
Told us, those moments were not fled : 

Oh, no, — we felt, some future sun 

Should see us still more closely one. 

Thus may we ever, side by side. 
From happy years to happier glide ; 
And still thus may the passing sigh 

We give to hours, that vanish o'er us. 
Be followed by the smiling eye. 

That Hope shall shed on scenes before us ! 



, 1801. 



To be the theme of every hour 

The heart devotes to Fancy's power, 

When her prompt magic fills the mind 

With fViends and joys we've left behind. 

And joys return and friends are near, 

And all are welcom'd with a tear : — 

In the mind's purest seat to dwell, 

To be remember'd oft and well 

By one whose heart, though vain and wild. 

By passion led, by youth beguird. 

Can proudly still aspire to be 

All that may yet win smiles from thee : — 

If thus to live in every part 

Of a lone, weary wanderer's heart ; 

If thus to be its sole employ 

Can give thee one faint gleam of joy. 

Believe it, Mary, — ohl believe 

A tongue that never can deceive. 

Though, erring, it too oft betray 

Ev'n more than Love should dare to say, — 

In Pleasure's dream or Sorrow's hour, 

In crowded hall or lonely bower, 



JUVENILE POEMS, 



Tike boiincM of my life ihatl be. 
For vwtr to remember then. 

I ^h thai bemrt be dead to mineT 
e IS life and wikes hoc Uiioe, 
1 u UJctf ihf image, m the form 
Or<M viMim Ixyve luid IkiVd to mm, 
Wfak^ dtamglfe it yield no answering thiill, 
li aoi IcM deer, is worshipped still — 
1*11 lake it, wrlieresoe*er I etray. 
TW bHjglit, cold bardeD of my way. 
To keep Uiis Bembbmce fresh in blooxii, 
Jfy heert shall be its lastitig tootb, 
AaA Memory, with embelming csre, 
1 Ibeep it fresh and fadeifm there. 



GENIUS OP HARMONY 
AM immwomJLn oi>k. 

Ad banaoniuiL canere mundum. 



I lies a shell beneath the waveSi 

a hoUow winding wreath'd. 
Such m of old 
L the breath that warbling sea-maids breath'd; 
Thi* ma^c shell, 
From the white bo«om of a ijrea fell, 

I ahe wander'd by the tide that laves 
gi,eiiia*s sands of gold. 



Kiturelle de« ADdUe*," there it an ac* 
of wamm eortoui ihslU , fouod ai Cura^oa, on the tmck 
wtr* llacs, filled with mutlcal ehatiu^erf lo df Atlnrt 
mtM pwftrl, Hut tlM viiter wmitm iu a very cbanaJng trio 
«^ «mK tn/m aom of tiMOi* ** Oo le iMmai^ muiJail* p«rcc<^ 
(pini p«t» ttO' le dm dn UfM> n«4fitreft plelnet de note*, qui 
«Bt taev npiM dm cl6 pour l«i n»«»r« «o dtant, d« lorto que 
|>oa ^Iralt qu*ll o« iiiaiu|u« que ta tettnr 1 cette tablatur« a^ 
iMPilliL Ca curieuK geotllboniTnc (M.du Hontd) rapporte 
^H Mi « vS qoi avoieat d»q Ugn«t^ une cl£» et dei DiKet, qui 
parfUt* QucliiiLi^iiD y atalt ajout^ la 
qa« la fucore avoU o«il>li6fl, et la faiioU cliaoter en 
de trio, dfint Talr etoit fort agr&ible/'-. Chap. jiju. 
■Pi. II. The author addf , a poet might tnuiKfne thai thesa 
were ua«d bj the tf reui at their coocerti. 

ing to Cicero, and hli cominetitator, Hacroblui^ 

me U the graveat and rJoteit on the planetary 

Quam ob cauiam fuininiii Ule coDil BteUtfpr 

eu)aa convenio ett coneitattor, acuta «( «xcltMt» 

r aauM; graHtrimo autein hlo luuarli alque Inflmui."^ 

L Sdf. Bfl«aiiae, mjs Macrobiut, " »plrUu ut Eii 

jam TotvltuT, et propter anguitLu 

orblaarctatur Impetu letilore con?eTtitur." 

— la fciiM Sagv. lib. IL cap. I, In thnr mmlciU arrangement 

efdM lM«irMilj bodSet, the ancient writer* ore not Ter; InEeU 

UglMc.— See Ptol,rm. lib. UL 

Lhnm Hebrvtt. In punning the Idea of Ariitotle, that the 

attribute* their hwrmcmf to tHH-rect and 

" Koo pen> manca fra lore 11 perretto et 

la eauM prliidpfile» cbe no moitra fl laro 



It bears 
Upon ita shining side the mystic notes 

Of those eiitnyicifig airs, ■ 
The genii of the deep were wont to swell. 
When heaven's eternal orbs their midnight tniisto 
Oh I seek it, wheresoe'ft it floats ; [roU'd I 
And, if the power 
Of thrilling numbers to thjr soul be dear. 
Go, bring the bright shell to my bower. 
And I will fold thee in soch downy dreams 
As lap the Spirit of the Seventh Sphere, 
When Luna's distant tone falls faintly on his ear!^ 
And thou sbalt own, 
That, through the circle of creation's aone, 
Where mailer 8luml)ers or where spirit beams j 
From the pellucid tides \ that whirl 
The planets through their maze of song. 
To the small rill, that weeps along 
Munuuring o*er beds of peorli 
From the rich sigh 
Of the sttti's arrow through an evening sky.* 
To the faint breath llie tuneful osier yields 

On Afric's burning fields ; * 
Thoult wondering own this universe divine 

la mine I 
That I respire in all and all in me, 
One mighty mingled soul of boundless harmony^ 

Welcome^ welcome, mystic shell 1 
Many a star has ccaa'd to bum,^ 
Many a tear has Satunia uro 
0*cr the cold bosom of the ocean wept, ' 

mntore, £ la lor amidtla irmonksi et la etmconlaoiia, che 
perpetuamcnte ti trora In loro.'*— Dialog. iU di AmoTe» 
p, h^. Thli " reciproco amore '* of Leone li the pK*rn< of 
the ancient Empcdciclei, who teemt, tn hit Lore and Hate of 
the Eletnenti, to have git en a gltop*e of the principle! of 
attrnctlan and repultlnti. See the fragment to which I allude 
In Laertioit AWL»rt j*i» ^\»n^t, futttx*t*i'\ »-^* *■. lib. irilL 
cap. 3. n.12. 

> Leuclppuft the atomlit;, Imagloedi a kind of vortlcet In 
the heaveitf « which he borrowed From Atuxagorai^ and poi- 
tlblf luggMted to Deicartef . 

• Heraclldef, upon the ilfegorlet ef Homer, conjeflurei 
that the idea of the harmony of the ipheret orlfioattHl with 
thif poet, wbOf In irepreii^nting the iolar beam a iu arrowi, 
»uippofe« them to emit a peculiar ^und In the aJr. 

• In the accoinit of Africa which D'Ablswcourt has trent- 
liated, there li mention of a tree in that pounlry, whoM! 
liranches when thukpn by the hand produce rrry (wect 
»ounid». " Le ititunt- auteur (Abenx6g*r) dit^ qu'il y a un 
certain arbre, qui prodiiJt de« gauiei comm« d'osler, et qu'en 
le« preaantb la main et lei bronlant, ellei font une e»pdoe 
d'harmonie fort agrtable/" Ac. he. — V Apiqtu dr Marmai, 

• Alluding ta thi- entlDction. or at leut the dUapp<"arance, 
f>riome ortbokc flxetl ttari, which wo are taught to conkitlc^r 
IU ■uti«, attended each by Iti lyitemi. Deacartei thought that 
OUT earth might formerly hate been a iiio, which hecatne ob- 
f cured by a thick incrustation over Iti lurface, Thii probably 
iUggvfted the idea of a central flr& 

' porphyry aayi^ that Pythagorai held the #wi lo be a tear» 
Tq» S^mXwrm» /mi imuku utmt Ittn^m <De VllA) ; and iowe 





MOORE'S WORKS. 



Smce thj aj^rial fpell 
Hath ID the w«t«n ttepL 
Now West ni fly 
With the bright treasure to mj choni sky. 
Where she, who wak'd it« early swell. 
The Syren of the heavenly choir. 
Walks o*er the great string of my Orphic Lyre j * 
Or guides oroand the bommg pole 
The winged chariot of some hlissfiil soul : ^ 
While thou — 
Uh son of earth, what dreams shall rise for thee ! 
Beneath Uifipaoi^i's sun, 
Thou'lt 9«e a Etreamlet rtia, 
Which I've imbued with breath Jng melody j '' 
And there, when night-winds down the current die, 
Tlioull hear how like a harp its waters sigh : 
A li<|uid chord is every wave that flows, 
An airy plectrum every hrecxe that blows** 

There, by that wondrous streoai. 

Go, lay thy langoid brow, 
And I will send thee such ii godlike dream, 
Ai never bless'd the Bhirtit>er8 even of him, ^ 
Wh(V many a night, with his primordijiJ lyre,** 

Sale on the chill Pimgii^aD mount, ^ 

And, looking lo the orient dim, 
Walch'd the first flowing of that sacred founi. 

From which his soul hod drunk its tire. 



mn tUft, If 1 iiibia)i« not, hu iidd«4 lk» ^tmti Ssmm u the 
KNiree of tt. RnapcdodM, with ilmilsr dllKtAtian . cjil I rd Lb« 
Ma '* tk€ fweai of tlift cartte t "* i lgur a wm y^r* Se« Hifttrrt' 

> Tho •)r«l«in of the h«nniMiti«d orbt was atjlod by tti« 
I Uw Gr««l hyn of Oryihcnu, tot which Lud«n tbui 

fffst Aiittttm rifTiCaAAtr*, m. t. k. io jMtnyiag, 

»f0tlM»^Ttf,m^tfAi*U*^'ii:tElJ OXHMk—*Ui»tTlUitint 
lii« MHii* aurcrAtty mmang ihv Hart, antl niouoting each voul 
open ■ ttftr m an ll« chArliit," » Piato, TtmtrvM, 

* THit mtMlcAl r(v«r It mi^Dti^ined In thft roi«Lui«o or 
Achilla* TiAlhit, £«>•« ^^rmvM ^ . n* h mM.tvf*i ^lAur fmt 
bhrnTH KmJjtvtrt. Tho Lai In vcnUm, In lUlipl/llipt the bLftlU* 
»hk-h it In ihti uritfiiiat, h«« pUirrti th<» rlrer tn HkpanlJL. 
** In lllj|janiS quoqiie flufiu* Mt, <|ii«iii prlioo Stfiwetu/* 
ae. ikt, 

* Tli4<«# two Um* are trsiiiUl«a It^tm th» wor^i of Aehlltn 
TtiiiiUL £«» f«f $Xjf^ affUMT m «wr Sunt* litrirv), t» fmf 
*|«f ^ It^t*^ •(«««*«■. f« It «1»«bM* Tvv m)*t«c r>%]«vt»i 

^rtfwi. n jiMifiti* 1^1 m «'S«f« 4LaAi*> — Lib« LL, 

* Orfiheti*. 

* Tlwpy caU«d liU Ijrrv «|^«i«ff««ii« ft- mxtifttfr Of^im* 
9^09 a CBrtotM vorlll^ a pntitnatot Grvrk At V>ni»', entitled 
** ll«lkdiinia4M. siv* WfiUfli 4s s9|K«iurlo lU)fl/'-.Uli. Iv> 

f RraioMbmM la msntloiilat Cba citmBa ftneratioa of 
OrfilMiua Utr AtMilta, tvfi thst Im ««• aflcuitonod lo fo to thm 
PmUMn mouitulM nt 'Itf •tjr<>«k« *ivl titer* »aU th« liilng of 
the •no. ItNif (i« mlshl b* thr Or«t to Ititll Hi bmmi. £#*>•«* 

II*»*dw, •'iivUMr* WW fH«mlLa«, i^« ti^ vw *tt*J«» w^mrt 



Oh 1 think what visions, in that londy hour. 
Stole o'er his musing breast ; 
What pious i*csta«y* 
Walked hi& praj er to that eternal Power, 
Whose seal upon thi^ new-born world imprest* 
The various forms of bright divinity ! 

Or, doflt thou know what d re ami I wove, 
'Mid the deep horror of Ihat silent bower, *** 
Wliere the rapt Sambn alept his holy slumber? 
When, ft-ee 
From earthly chain. 
From wreaths of pleasure and from bonds of 
pain, 
His Bpirit flew throngh fields above, 
Drank at the source of natun? V fontal number , t > 
And saw, in mystic choir, around him niovc 
The stars of song. Heaven's buraiug minstrelsy t 
Such dreams, so heavenly bright, 
I swear 
By the great diadem that twin<» my hair, 
And by the seven gems that sparkle there *<, 

Mingling their beams 
In a soft iris of harmoaious light, 
Ob, mortal I such shall be thy radiant dreams. 



* Thcfft are tome verMt of Orpbcm pr«t#fViid to oji, whirh 
emitiilo Kubltmo ideat of th« unitjr and maiffnllU«nc« '>f the 
DclijT. For luitance, thote which JtiMlti Itartir hit* pro- 



It !■ thought hj wame, that tbow arc lote reckoniMl amoofit 
the fklirlcailoD«, vhlch wmn fraqotnt in Clie 'caiXf time* o( 
C'hfiitlaiiltr. Still. It appMrt doubtna to whoa tb«j are to 
ha attHbutwcl^ beiaf too ploui tot tlm Pacuu, taSioo potllcal 
for the Fathert. 

* III one of (he ttymnt of Orphoui, ba aurfbolsi a tforid 
■eal to K)^AU\ with whl^h ha liascbita that iMty lo bava 
•tAnit««>d « tarlrtjr of fortiii upoa tli# valvana. 

■• AUudins to tttr c4t0 tioar Samoa, wharv Pjrthasnra* tfa* 
rotad tha f raater |mrt or hU rf^taod nIgtiLt to roe<lltatl«i« mA 
th« njrttarlca of bu philmnphy. lamMkA, 4« Vit, Th)t,ai 
Hohti^nlut rrni4.: •litailom oTtlia Mafl. 

> > T h f IH r At ' I < I uaiber of tba Pjthatoreftnt, oti 

wHleti thcrj %iy\. ^ , mn| whleb tbvy callod wmym* 

■ M^jM Sw#*ar» ** ii¥t tuuut^liii of perennial nature." Lurian 
hai ridkulad ibl* raltgtoai aritlioii^ilic «vr|f clat eriy in bh 
SaUolFhlloM^ar*, 

>* Thli diadaa li tntendid to rapraaeni the analofly ba- 
twaan Iba oolei of muile and tba |»rli«aaitte eoloon, Wa io4 
In Pliitarcb a tafua tnttniatlon of chU kindred barmoaf In 
colour* and MModf. — CH'r n ««i mm**^ iMtw Sm« n mm 
dttw «w 4i»iwa i tnSaiMMi. — D* MmtJ&», 

CsaakNianu, wboaa Maa I augr ba auppoted to have hfor- 
nmad, atft, la a taller open Bnuck ba Boetlut, " Ut diadMaa 
oralU* tarlt l«ice samoiJiruRi, »lc cftbara rilvanltala toal, 
lilandltur rnidUul/* Tht« t* [im1««41 iba onl/ tolerahia tbouf bt 
(n th« l«tier. — Lib. U. Varlar. 




JUVENILE POEMS. 



79 



Like aoMe dmady kamcd pbM» 
And left bdoDd dwir odoRNH tnee I 

b fth, M if b« Gpf kid Aed 
A ufj^ unmnd bcr, ere die lied, 
ing, as oa m neltiiig late, 
I all the mHct diorde are ■ale» 
Acre Ungcn ttill a tiemMing 1»eath 
After the iioCe*e hmricmt death, 
A diade of mmg, a ipirit air 
Of Belodice which had been there. 

I aaw die Teil, which, all the day. 

Had floated o'er her cheek of roae ; 
I aaw the coach, where late she Uj 

In languor of dirine repoee; 
And I ooold tTMC the hallow'd print 

Her limha had left, as pore and warm 
As if 'twere done in nqitore's mint. 

And Lore himadf had stamp'd the form. 

Oh my sweet mistress, where wert thou? 

In pity fly not thos from me ; 
Thoa ait my lift, my essoiee now. 

And m J sool dies of wanting thee. 



MRa HENRY TIGUE, 

OSr mBADINO HER ** PSYCHE.** 

Tklx. me the witching tale again. 
For nerer has my heart or ear 

Hong on ao sweet, so pore a strain. 
So pure to feel, ao sweet to hear. 

Say, Lore, in all thy prime of fame. 
When the high hearen itself was thine; 



> See the Storj In Apulelus. 'With retpect to this beau- 
tiftil milttorj of Love and Psyche, there it an Ingenious idea 
■ngcwled xif the senator Boonarotti, in his " Osserraiioni 
•opra alciml fraamentl dl tmI antichi.'* He thinks the fable Is 
taken from some very occult mysteries, which had long been 
laisbraitd hi bonoar of Ixyre ; and accounts, upon this sup- 
poehloo, fi>r the slleoce of the more ancient authors upon the 
sobleet, as It was not till towards the decline of pagan super- 
■rltlaQ, that writers could renture to rereal or discuss such 
eeremoolcft. Accordingly, observes this author, we find I^idan 
and Plutarch treating, without reserve, of the Dea Syria, as 
wen m of Isis and OsirU ; and Apulelus. to whom we are In- 
dobCed fsr the beantiftil story of CupId and Psyche, has also 
detailed aone of tbo mysteries of Isis. See the Giomale dl 
LWcralid'italU.toaa.sxTU.artlcoLl. See also the obaerv- 



When piety eooftard the flame. 
And eren thy errors were divine i 

Did ever Muse's hand, so &ir, 
A glory round thy temples spread ? 

Did ever lip*8 ambrosial air 
Such fragrance o*er thy altars shed ? 

One maid there was, who roand her lyre 
The mystic myrtle wildly wreath'd ; — 

Bat all her sighs were sighs of fire. 
The myrtle withered as she breath'd. 

Oh I yon, that love's celestial dream. 

In all its purity, would know. 
Let not the senses* ardent beam 

Too strongly through the vision glow. 

Love safest lies, concealed in night. 

The night were heaven has bid him lie ; 

Oh ! shed not there unhallowed light. 
Or, Psyche knows, the boy will fly.» 

Sweet Psyche, many a charmed hour. 
Through many a wild and magic waste. 

To the fiur fount and blissAil bower < 
Have I, in dreams, thy light foot trac*d I 

Where'er thy joys are number*d now. 

Beneath whatever shades of rest. 
The Genius of the starry brow » 

Hath bound thee to thy Cupid's breast ; 

Whether above the horizon dim. 

Along whose verge our spirits stray, — 

Half sunk beneath the shadowy rim. 
Half brighten'd by the upper ray^, — 

Thou dwellest in a world, all light. 
Or, lingering here, dost love to be. 

To other souls, the guardian bright 
That Love was, through this gloom, to thee ; 



atlons upon the ancient gems in the Museum Florentinum, 
V0I.L P.1S6L 

I cannot avoid remarking here an error into which the 
French Encyclop^distes have been iod by M. Spon, in their 
article Psyche. They say ** P^trone fait un r6cit do la pompe 
nuptiale de ces deux amans (Amour et Psyche). Diik, 
dit-ll," Ac. &c The Psyche of Petronius, however, is a ser- 
vant-maid, and the marriage which ho describes is that ofthe 
young Pannychis. See Spon's Recherches curleufcs, Ac 
DisserUt 9i 

s Allusions to Mrs. Tighe's Poem. 
' Constancy. 

^ By this image the Platonists expressed the middle state 
of the soul between sensible and Intellectual existence. 




MOORE'S WORKS. 



Still he ttie BODg to P^che dear, 

The song, whose gvntle voice WM given 

To be, on earth, to Diortat e&r. 
An echo of her own, in bearvn. 



FBOM 

THE HIGH PRIEST OF APOLLO 

TO 

A vmcIN OF DELPHt.^ 

Cum dl^o digiM . , . _ 

StLnciA. 

•* Who IS tlie maid, with golden hnir, 
" With eye of fifi% and foot of air, 
»* Whose harp around mj altiir swells, 
** The iweeteBt of a thousand shells ? ** 
*Twa» thus the deity, who lread« 
Thi! arch of heairfa, and proudly shed« 
Day fVoni his eyelid* — thus he spoke. 
As through my cell his glories broke, 

AphcUa is the Del|ihic fjiir,* 
With eye* of lire and goldf ii hair, 
Aphelia's are the airy feet. 
And hers the harp divinely sweet ; 
For fool so light lia* never trod 
The laart*rd caverns ^ of the god^ 
Nor barp bo soft hath ever pven 
A sigh to eartb or hymn tu beavcti, 

•* Then tell tbe virgin to unfold, 
** In loos<i'r pomp, her locks of gold, 
'* And bid those eyes more fondly shine 
*• To welcome down a Spouse Divine; 
♦* Since He, who lights the path of years ^^ 
" Even from the fount of morning's tears 



t Thl» poem, w w«U «* a few <rth*r» that occur a/Her* 
irarili, rorropd p«rt of a work which I had giiIjf projectod, 
mud tfv«n aanouorcd to tlie pultlk, but whkbi liirklty pcr^ 
hap* Tor tnjrieir, had been dntcrrupie^l by my tlilt to America 
Id tlM yrar IMS. 
AmoDf tlio«e tmpoatur^ in whlcb tbe pri«*fU of the pagan 
^^^^ IflBpltti an knovn to tiave lndu1g«dL oq« of th« root t favoarltc 

^^^^ «ai thM of aiifioimdii4{ to Mnne Iklr votary of tbe ihr toe, that 

^^^^H tk9 God bioMlf bad become etixmoured of hrr beauty, and 

^^^'^ wouM detemd fa all hU f lory, to pay h«r « vUit wUhio th« 

^r fiCMJBi of the I^BO. A a adTeoture of thlt deicrlptioD forrnedi 

^M aa •pfiodc la Uio daaalc romaoce wbicfa I had fkctctied out ; 

^1 and tlie thort fraftracot. glveit abote, bclotif i to An cpi«tte by 

H »Ul4 h th« »tory va* to have been Liitrodur<vL 

H * la tifc SPth Pythk of Ptndar, liher* Apollo, In the uune 

^m wmnrnm^ Hfqafrot of Chiron tome tofonnadoa rctpectlng tbe 

^L illr Cyrmet tao Catitaar, la obrylDg, very jrrately apojogit ei 

^^^^^^u tOi lellliti tfaa Ood what blj omnlacleDce miut know lo per- 
^^^^■|i fsellyalraadyi 



" To where bis settinfl- Fplendourt bora 

*' UpoQ the western sea-maids urn — 

'* Dotb not, in all bis course, behold 

*• Such eyefi of fire, such hair of gold* 

•* Tell her, he cfinies, in blissful pride, 

" His lip yet sparkling wtih tbe tide 

** That mantlefl in Olympian bowls, — 

** The nectar of eternal souls 1 

*♦ For her, for her he quits the skies, 

" And to her kiss frtmi nectar dies;. 

" Oh, he would quit bis star-throa*d height, 

*• And leave tbe world to pine for light, 

" Might he but pass the hours of ibade, 

** Beside hia peerless Delphic maid, 

** She^ more than earthly woman blest, 

" He, more than god on woman's breast I '* 

There is a cave beneath the atcepf * 
Where living rills of crystal weep 
O'er herbage of ibe loveliest hue 
That ever spring begemm'd with dew : 
There oft the greenswanrs glos»y tint 
Im brigbten'd hy the recetit print 
Of many a faun and naiad's feet, — 
Scarce touehing earth, tbeir step so fleet,— 
That there,, hy mooalight*s ray, had trod, 
lo light dance, o'er the verdant sod. 
" Tbe re, tbere/* the god, impassion'd, said, 
** Soon OS the twilight tinge \h fled, 
•* And the dim orb of luoar souls ^ 
•* Along its shadowy pathway rolls — 
♦* There shall we meet, — and not ev'n He, 
" The God who reigns bnmortally, 
" W^hcre Babtrrs turrets paint their pride 
" Upon th* Euphrates* shiuiiig tide*, — 
" Not ev'n when to his midnight loves 
'* In mystic majesty he moves, 
" Lighted by many an odorous fire, 
*♦ And hymn'd by all Cbaldjiyi*s choir, — 



£fi«. 



tmi mif 0tHf «rn»4Nf<|«i, 



Evaipio. tem,r.7(k 

* The Corydaa Care, which Paiuaulai mentloiiiu The 
inhabitants of ParnaMUi hekt It tacred to tbe Coryclan 
nyropbi, who were children of the Hirer Pltttiu. 

> See aprccedinff aiHe, p. 'i&r ti, i. It thould M^eni that liuuir 
iptrlti wete of a purer order iban tpiriii In general, ai 
I*yt3iBgoirai was said by hii foUowen Da have dMoended Atocb 
tbe nfkMit of tbi< uiooo. The bertwiarch HanoB, la dMaMe 
nmnaer. Imagined that the tun and moon are the reeldeoee of 
ChrUt. and thai the aaceticioa wai nothing more than bit flight 
to thoM orbi. 

* The temple of Jupiter Belua, ai Babylon ; la octe of who«e 
toweri there wai a large chapel tet apart for th<>§e oetefttl*! 
asalgnattonui " No man li alkwed to tiewp bere/* nyt Hero> 
4otu* i '* but tbe apartneot Is appiroprLated to a feiaale, whom, 
if we bellete the Chaldean prlMU. the dolly leleeU f^on tbe 
w^naoii of tlM oDontry, ai hit IkTOurlt*." LU>.I. ea{i. ISU 



JUVENILE POEMS. 



81 



* ETcr ywt, ate vorld teov, tel i 

* 8th dahimti cf Lore Divine^ 

* As ihan to-wg^ UMt maid, o'er Oine." 

Hqppj tke ayndy whom haiYCB aUowt 
To hnak. ftr h w i r fn ker Tirgin tows! 
Hapiiy the mid I — hernbeofthuM 
If whitni*d hf a hesvcBlj flame, 
Whoae glorj, with a lingViiig tnee, 
fihinefl dntmgVi aad daiftes her noe 1 1 



FRAGMENT. 

PnTme,krre! FUpity thee^ 
If thoa indeed baa mt like me. 
AD, all mj boMm*f peaee ii o'ert 
At night, whieh was mj hour of calm. 
When, fteoi tiie page of clamic lore. 
From the pore Ibmit of ancient lay 
My aonl has d^rawn the placid balm, 
Wluch chann'd its CTery grief away. 
Ah ! there I find that balm no more. 
Tboae apella, which make as oft forget 
The lleedng troables of the day. 
In deeper s orrow s only whet 
The stings they cannot tear away 
When to my pillow raek'd I fly, 
With wearied lense and wakefVil eye: 
While my brain maddens, where, oh, where 
Is that serene consoling pray'r, 
Which once has harbinger'd my rest. 
When the itill soothing yoice of Heayen 
Hath seem'd to whisper in my breast, 
•* Sleep on, thy errors are forgiven ! " 
No, though I still in semblance pray, 
My thoughts are wand*ring fiu* away 
And er'n the name of Deity 
Is mnrmor'd out in sighs for thee. 



A NIGHT THOUGHT. 

How oft a clood, with enyioas yeil, 
Obscures yon bashful light. 

Which seems so modestly to steal 
Along the waste of night I 



* FoBteoelle, In hb plafful r^admenio of the learned ma- 
terials of Van-Dale, baa related in his own inimitable manner 
am adventiire of this kind which was detected and exposed at 
tee L'HIsCflire des Oracles, dissert. 2. chapi Til. 



"Tis thus the world's obtruslre wrongs 

Obscure with malice keen 
Some timid heart, which only longs 

To liye and die unseen. 



THE KISa 

Gaow to my lip, thou sacred kiss, 
On which my soul*s beloyed swore 
That there should oome a time of bHss, 
When she would mock my hxapes no more. 
And fancy shall thy glow renew. 
In sighs at mom, and dreams at night. 
And none shall steal thy holy dew 
Till thou*rt absoIy*d by rapture's rite. 
Sweet hours that are to make me blest. 
Fly, swift as breezes, to the goal. 
And let my loye, my more than soul 
Come blushing to this ardent breast 
Then, while in eyery glance I drink 
The rich o*erflowings of her mind. 
Oh I let her all enamour*d sink 
In sweet abandonment resign'd. 
Blushing for all our struggles past. 
And murmuring, ** I am thine at last I** 



SONG. 



Think on that look whose melting ray 
For one sweet moment mix*d with mine. 

And for that moment seem'd to say, 
** I dare not, or I would be thine ! " 

Think on thy ey*ry smile and glance. 
On all thou hast to charm and moye ; 

And then forgiye my bosom's trance. 
Nor tell me it is sin to loye. 

Oh, not to loye thee were the sin ; 

For sure, if Fate's decrees be done, 
Thou, thou art destined still to win. 

As I am destin'd to be won I 



Creblllon, too, In one or bis most amusing little stories, has 
made the GMe Mange-Tkupes, of the Isle Jonquillc, assert 
this priTllege of spiritual beings in a manner rather formidable 
to the husbands of the island. 



82 



MOORE'S WORKS. 



THE CATALOGUE. 

" Come, tell mc/* says Rosa, as kissing and kist, 

One day she recUu*d oo my breast ; 
** Come, tell me the number, repeat me the list 

" Of the nymphs you have lov*d and carest" — 
Oh Rosa I 'twas only my fancy that roved, 

My heart at the moment was free ; 
But ril tell thee, my girl, how many Tre loved, 

And the number shall finish with thee. 

My tutor was Kitty ; in infancy wild 

She taught me the way to be blest ; 
She taught me to lore her, I lov*d like a child. 

But Kitty could fancy the rest 
This lesson of dear and enrapturing lore 

I have never forgot, I allow : 
I have had it by rote very often before, 

But never by heart until now. 

Pretty Martha was next, and my soul was all flame. 

But my head was so full of romance 
That I fancied her into some chivalry dame. 

And I was her knight of the lance. 
But Martha was not of this fimciful school. 

And she laugh*d at her poor little knight ; 
While I thought her agoddess, she thought me a fool. 

And ril swear »he was most in the right. 

My soul was now calm, till, by Cloris*s looks, 

Again I was tempted to rove ; 
But Cloris, I found, was so learned in books 

That she gave me more logic than love. 
So I left this young Sappho, and hasten'd to fly 

To those sweeter logicians in bliss. 
Who argue the point with a soul-telling eye, 

And convince us at once with a kiss. 

Oh ! Susan was then all the world unto me. 

But Susan was piously given ; 
And the worst of it was, we could never agree 

On the road that was shortest to Heaven. 
** Oh, Susan !*' I've said, in the moments of mirth, 

" What's devotion to thee or to me ? 
" I devoutly believe there's a heaven on earth, 

" And believe that that heaven's in thee I ** 



IMITATION OF CATULLUa 

TO IIIMSKLF. 

Miser Catitlle, detinu inrptlre, kc 

CsAf R the sighing fool to play ; 
Cease to trifle life away; 



Nor vainly tliink those joys thine own. 
Which all, alas, have falsely flown. 
What hours, Catullus, once wore thine, 
How fairly seem'd thy day to shine, 
When lightly thou didst fly to meet 
The girl whose smile was then so sweet — 
The girl thou lov'dst with fonder pain 
Than e'er thy heart can feel again. 

Ye met — your souls seem'd all in one, 
Like tapers that commingling shone; 
Thy heart was warm enough for both, 
And hers, in truth, was nothing loath. 

Such were the hours that once were thine ; 
But, ah ! those hours no longer shine. 
For now the nymph delights no more 
In what she lov'd so much before ; 
And all Catullus now can do. 
Is to be proud and frigid too ; 
Nor follow where the wanton flies. 
Nor sue the bliss that she denies. 
False maid ! he bids farewell to thee. 
To love, and all love's misery ; 
The heyday of his heart is o'er. 
Nor will he court one favour more. 

Fly, perjur'd girl I — but whither fly? 
Who now will praise thy cheek and eye? 
Wlio now will drink the syren tone, 
Mfliich tells him thou art all his own? 
Oh, none : — and he who lov'd before 
Can never, never love thee more. 



" Neither do I condemn the* ; go, and tin no more ! " 

St. John, cba|i. viii. 

Oh woman, if through sinful wile 

Thy soul hath stray'd from honour's track, 

'Tis mercy only can beguile. 

By gentle ways, the wand'rer back. 

The stain that on thy virtue lies, 

Wash'd by those tears, not long will stay ; 
As clouds that sully morning skies 

May all be wept in show'rs away. 

Go, go, be innocent, — and live ; 

The tongues of men may wound thee sore ; 
But Heav'n in pity can forgive. 

And bid thee ** go, and sin no more I " 



JUVENILE POEMS. 



88 



HOHflBHBEi 



G<MDreadarl ifyoae'erliaTeMen, 

When FluBliaf -iHHteiis to hit piUow, 
The mennaidi^ with their trcnee green* 

Dwieiiig upon the veetem MUow : 
If joo have eeen, al twilight dim. 
When the lone qtirit't Teeper hymn 

Floats wild nloiig the winding ihore, 
If jon hare eeen, throng^ mist of eve, 
The fiuiy train their ringlets weaTe, 
Glancing along the span|^ green :-^ 

If yea have seen all this, and more, 
God blcM me, what a deal yoa've seen ! 



EPIGRAM, 

FBOX THE FBKHCH* 

** I KKTsm gire a kiss (says Pme), 
*^ To nanghty man, for I abhor it** 

She will not give a kiss, 'tis true ; 

Shell take one thoogh, and thank yon for it 



OH A SQUINTING POETESS. 

To no oae Mose does she her glance confine, 
Bat has an eye, at once, to all the Nine I 



To 



MorU par quandf) ruol, non h bUogna mutar nl faccU ni 
voce per etaer un Angela^ 

Die when you will, yon need not wear 
At Heaven's Court a form more fair 

Than Beanty here on earth has given ; 
Keep bat the lovely looks we see — 
The voice we hear — and you will be 

An angel ready-made for Heaven ! 



TO ROSA. 

A Cur conserva, e cumiilo d'amantL Pa$l. Fid. 

Akd are you then a thing of art, 
Seducing all, and loving none ; 

The ironis addrrttcd bj Lord Herbert of Chcrbury to 
a at Murana — 8re kf§ Life. 



And hare I strove to gain a heart 
Which every eoxeomb thinks his own ? 

Tell me at onee if this be true, 
And I will calm my jealous breast ; 

Will learn to join the dangling crew. 
And share your simpers with the rest 

But if your heart be nof so free, — 
Oh 1 if another share that heart, 

Tell not the hatcfhl tale to me. 
But mingle mercy with your art 

rd rather think you ** false as heU," 
Than find you to be all divine, — 

Than know that heart could love so well. 
Yet know that heart would not be mine I 



TO PHILLia 

Phillis, you little rosy rake. 
That heart of yours I long to rifle : 

Come, give it me, and do not make 
So much ado about a tr\fle / 



TO A LADY, 

ON HER SINGING. 

Tht song has taught my heart to feci 
Those soothing thoughts of heavenly love. 

Which o*er the sainted spirits steal 
When listening to the spheres above I 

When, tir*d of life and misery, 

I wish to sigh my latest breath, 
Oh, Emma ! I will fly to thee, 

And thou shalt sing me into death. 

And if along thy lip and cheek 

That smile of heav*nly softness play. 

Which, — ah ! forgive a mind that's weak, — 
So oft has stol'n my mind away ; 

Thoult seem an angel of the sky. 
That comes to charm me into bliss : 

I'll gaze and die — Who would not die. 
If death were half so sweet as this? 



r 






J 


84 MOORE'S WOBKa 






But now T mourn thai e'er I knew 




SONG. 


A girl so fair and ao deccivuig* i 






OS THE BlIlTimAV OF MRS ^ 


Fare thee well. 






WRITTEN IN IRELAXD, 1790, 


Few have ever lov'd like me, — 






Or til roy liappiett hours of Joy, 


Yes, I have lov'd thee too sincerely ! 






And evim I have had luy measure. 


And few have e'er deceiv'd like thee, — 






When hearts were full, and evVy eye 


Alas ! deceiv'd me too severely. 






Uiith kimlltHl will* the %ht of pk*siaujv» 








An hour Tike this I ne*cr wa* given, 


Fare thee well I^yet think awhile 






So ftill of fneodahip'i purest hli&sos ; 


On one whose hoaom bleeds to doubt thee ; 






Yfjung Love hiindelf looks down fruni heaven, 


Who now would rather trust that smile, 






To smile tm such a day m this is. 


And die with thee than live without thee. 






Thi'ti come, my friends, this hour improve!, 








Let*8 feel lu if we ne er couid sever j 


Fare thee ttcH ! Til thiok uf t!j«M?, 






At»d may the birth of her we love 


Thou leav'&t me iiiiiiiy a bitter token t 






Be thus With joy remembered ever I 


For see, distracting woman, see, 

My peace b gone, my heart ia broken ! — 






Oh I banish evVy thought to-night, 


Fare thee well ! 






Whieh could disturb our iJOul*s communiou ; 








Abamlon'd thus to dear delightt 








Well ev'n for once forget the Unioo ! 
On that let statesmen try their pow'rSt 














And tremhle o'er the rights they'd die for; 








The unioQ of the 90ul be oars. 


MORALITY. 






And evVy union else we sigh for. 


A FAMILIAR tl'li^TLE. 




1 


Then come, my frtendsi 8iC 


ADDOtUKD TO 




1 


In ev*ry eye around I mark 


J. AT— NS_S\ ESQ. M. R, l.A. 




1 


The feelings of the henrt oVrflowmg ; 


TSOI7GII long at school and college dosing. 




1 


From ev'ry soul I catch the £|mrk 


OVr books of verse and books of prosing. 




L 


Of sympathy^ in friendship glowing. 


And copying from their moral pages 




H 


Oh I could such moments ever fly ; 


Fine recipes for making sages ; 




V 


Oh ! that we ne'er were doom'd to lose 'em ; 


Though long with those divines at school, 




w 


And all as bright as Charlotte's eye. 


Who think to make ti* goo*l by rule j 




1 


And all as pure aa Chmrlotte's bosom. 


Who, in methodic forms advancing, 




1 


Then come, my CHends, flee. 


Teaching morulity like dancing. 
Tell us, for Heaven or tnoney*s sake. 




1 


Far me, whate'er my span of years. 


What steps we are through life to tiike : 




1 


Whatever sun may light my roving; 


Though thus, my friend, so long employed, 




1 


Whether I waste my life in tears, 


With so much midnight oil dettroy^dt 




1 


Or live, aji now, for mirth and loving; 


I mitS't eotifei^fl, my searches past. 




1 


This day shall come with aspect kind. 


Fve only leam'd to douU at last 




1 


Wherever fate iBay cast your rover; 


I And the doctors and the sagei 




^■i 


, He'll think of those he k-ft Whmd, 


Have differ'd in all climei and ages, 




^H 


And drink a health to bliss that's over I 


And two in fifty scarce agree 






Then come^ my friends, &c. 


On wbftt ii pore morality. 

*Tis like the rainbow*t shifting zone, 

And every vision makes Its own. 












SONG. « 


The doctors of the Porch advise, 
As model of being great and wise. 






Mahy, I bcliev'd thee true. 


That we sbotild ceaae to own or know 






And 1 WAS hlojtt in thus helieving} 


Tl»c lujiurics that from feeling flow ; — 
" lleason alone must claim direction. 






1 Thmm word* wwrm written to thv }MClMtlc Scotrti sir 








*' OmiU Wftl»r,** 


** And Apathy'i the soul's perfection. 






1 







1 






■ 


1 


JUYENILE POEMS* SS 


1 


'* Like a dull lake the heart must He ; 


That Epictetus hlum'd that tear, 


■ 


" Nor passion's pale nor pkasare's si;?li, 


By Heaven approv'd, to virtue dear I 


^^ 




*• Tliough Heav'n the hreere, the breath* Buf»plicd, 




^H 




" Mu&t curl the wave or swell the tide 1 " 


Oh i when I've seen the morning beam 
Floating within the dimpled stream ; 


■ 




Such was the iigid Zeno'a phm 


While Nature, wuk'ning from the night, 


^1 




To form his philosophic man ; 


Has Just put on her robes of light. 


^1 




Such were the modes A*? taught mankind 


Have I^ with cold opticiaii*s gaze. 


^H 




To weed the garden of the mind ; 


Explored the ditctrinc of those rays? 


^H 




They tore from tbenco ftoroe weedn, 'lii true. 


No, pedaots, l have left to you 


^H 




Bui all the flow*r» were mvag'd too I 


Nicely to sepVate hue fVom hue* 
Go, give thftt moment up to art, 


I 




Now Uffteo to the wily Btrains, 


When Heaven and nature claim the heart ; 


^1 




Which, on Cyrene's sandy plainSt 


And, dull to all their best attraction, 


^1 




When Pleswure, nymph with loosened zone, 


Go — measnre antfles of refraction. 


^1 




rfsurp^d the philosophic throne, — ► 


While f, in feeling's sweet romance. 


^1 




Hear what the courtly stkge'i^ ' tongtie 


Look on each day be am as u glance 


^H 




To his surrounding pupils sung:-^ 


From the great eye of Him above, 


^1 




** Plea^ore's the only noble end 


Wak*nifig his world with looks of love 1 


^H 




** To which all human pow'r* should tend, , 




^1 




•* And Virtue give* her heavenly lore. 




H 




•• But to make Pleasure please us more. 




^H 




*» Wisdom and the were both designed 




^^1 




•* To make the senses more refin'd. 


TSE 


^^^H 


■ 


•* That man might revel, free from cloy iog, 


^^^^H 


L 


1 •* Then most a sage when most enjoying ! ' 


TELL-TALE LYEE. 


^H 


^Fi ' h this moralKr ?— Oh, no '. 


FvE heard, there was in ancient days 


■ 


w 


Ev'n I a wiser path could show. 


A Lyre *»f most niflodinus spell ; 


^H 


m 


The flow*r within this vase confin'd, 


'Twas heaven to hear its fairy lays, 


^H 


■ 


The pure, the unfading flow'r of mind, 


If half be true that legends telL 


^1 


F i 


Must not throw all its sweets away 




^H 




Upon a mortal mould of clay : 


'Twas play*d on by the gentlest sighs, 


^H 




No, no, — ita richest breath should rise 


And to their breath it breath 'd again 


^1 






la such entranciug melodies 

As ear had never drtiuk till then ! 


1 




But thus it is, all sects we sec 




^H 




Have walchwortls of morality : 


Not harmony's serenest touch 


^H 




Sotne cry out Venus, others Jove ; 


So stilly could the notes prolong; 


^1 




Here 'tis Religion, there *tis Love. 


They were not heavenly song so much 


^1 




Ilut while they thus so widely wander, 


As they were dreams of heavenly song 1 


^H 




While mystics dream, and doctors ponder ; 




^H 




And some, in dialectics 6nn, 


If sad ihi^ heart, whose munn'ring air 


^H 




Seek virtue in a middle term ; 


Ahnig the chords in languor stole. 


^H 




While thus they strive, in Heaven's deHonce, 


The nmiit>ers it awakeii'd there 


^H 


h 


To chain morality with science; 


Were eloquence from pity's soul. 


^H 


■ 


The pUin good man, whose actions teach 




^^1 


r 


More virtue than a sect can preach. 


Or if the sigh, serene and light. 


^^^^^ 




Pursues his course, unsagcly blest. 


Wiis but the breath of fanriinl woes, 


^^^H 


ii 


His tutor whispVing in his breast; 


The string, that felt its airy flight. 


^^^^H 


I 


Nor could he act a purer part. 


Soon whisper d it to kind repose. 


^H 


■ 


Tbough he had Tally all by heart 




^1 


■ 


And when he drops the tear on woe. 


And when yomig lovers talk'd alone, 


^H 


1 


fie little knows or cares tf» krow 


If, mid their bliss that Lyre was near, 
It made their accents all its own. 


■ 


^L 1 i AH»l\pv»*^ 


And sent forth notes tliat Heaven might bear* 


J 


1 


k 




I 





[ 








86 MOORE'S WORKS. 




There was a nymph* vrho lonp had 1ov*d, 






But dar'd not lell the world how well : 


PEACE AND GLOllY. 






The 8hjidc«, where she nt evening mv'd. 


WRITTHI* OH THK APPROACH OF WAR. 






Alone coold know, alone conld tell. 


WHEitr is now the amile, that lighteo'd 






'Twaii there* at twilight time, ihe Rtole, 


Every hero*s coueh of rest ? 






When the first star anooune'd the night, ^ 


Where is now the hope, that brigbten'd 






With him who claim'd her iiimost »oul» 


rionour^fi eye and Pity's breast ? 






To winder by that soothing Light. 


Have we lost the wreath we braided 
For our weary warrior men ? 






If. chanced that, id the fairy bower 

Where blest they woo*d each other's smile, 


Is the faithless olive faded ? 

Must the bay be pluck'd again? 






Tbi« L} re, of strange and magic power, 
Hung wlnBp*ring o*er their heads the while. 


Passing hour of sunny weather 

Lovely, in yonr light awhile, 

Peace and (J lory, wed togelher. 






And fts, with eyes commingling fire, 


Wander'd through our bli<&sed isle. 






They listen 'd to each other's vow. 


And the eyes of Peace would glisten, 
Dewy as a morning sun. 






The youth full oft would make the Lyre 






A pillow for the maiden's brow : 


WTien the timid maid would listen 
To the deeds her chief had done. 






And, while the melting wordA she breathed 








Were by it* eehoca wafted round. 


Is their hour of dalliunee over? 






Her locks had with the corda so wreath'd. 


Must the maiden's trembling feet 






One knew not which gave forth the sound. 


Wsift her from her warlike lover 
To the desert's still retreat ? 






Alas* their hearts but little thought. 


Fare you well 3 with sighs we banish 






While thus ihey talk'd the houra away. 


Nymph so fair and gnesta so bright ; 






That every sound the Lyre was taught 


Yet the araile, with which yo'i vanish. 






Would linger long, and long betray. 


Leaves behind a soothing light', — 






So mingled with its tuneful soul 


Soothing light, that long shall sparkle 






Were all their tender niurraurB grown, 


OVr your warrior's ftftogiiin'd way, 






That other sighs unanswered stole, 


Through the field where horrors darkle. 






Nor words it breath'd but theirs alone. 


Shedding hope's consoling ray. 
Long the smile his heart will cherish, 






Unhappy nymph ! thy name was sung 


To its absent idol true ; 






To every breeie that wander'd by ; 


While around him myriads perish, 






The secrets of thy gentle tongue 


Glory stilt will sigh for you i 






Were breath'd in song to earth and sky. 
The fatal Lyre, bv Envy's hand 










Hung high amid the whiupVing grores. 


SONG. 






To every gale by which *twa« fano*d, 






Proclaim'd the mysl'ry of your loves. 


Tak£ back the sigh, thy lips of art 
In passioti's moment breath'd to me ; 






Nor long thus rudely was Iby name 


Yet, no — it must not, wiil not part, 






To eajth't derisiTe echoet given \ 


*Tis now the life-breath of my heart. 






Some pitying spirit downward came. 


And has become too pure for thee. 






And took the Lyre and thee to heaven. 


Take back the kiss, that faithless sigh 






There, freed fh>m earth's unholy wrongi, 


With all the warmth of truth imprest ; 






B<jth happy in Love's home shall W; 


Yet, no— the fatjil kiss may Vh% 






Thou, uttering nought but seraph songa. 


Upon thtf lip its sweets would die» 






And that sweet Lyre stiU echoing theet 


Or bloom lo make a rival bksl. 






i . 












^^^ 





JUV'ENn.K POEMS. 87 


4 


Take back the vows that, tiipht and diij% 


But now the sun, in pomp of noon, 




My heart recetv'd, I thought, from thiue ; 


Look'd blazing* o'er the sultry plains ; 


^^ 




Yet, no — allow them still to stay. 


Alas I the boy grew languid soon. 


^H 




Thej might some other heart betray, 


And fever thrill'd through all his veins. 


^1 




As sweellj u tbejVe rtiln^d mine. 


The dew forsook his baby brow. 

No more with healthy bloom h*' srail'd — 
Oh I where was tramtnil Reason now. 

To cast her shadow oer Ihe child? 


1 








Beneath a green and aged palm. 


H 




LOVE AND REASON. 


His foot at length for nhelter laming, 
He saw the nymph reclining calm. 


■ 




'^ Quu>d t^hoaim* commencv i raikonnor, t1 oetse tleHtttSr." 

J. J, ROLtllBAtl.t 


With brow as cool as his was burning. 


1 




*TwA8 in the summer time to Kweet, 


*• Oh 1 take me to thai bo«om cold," 


H 




When heart! and flowers are both in seas<»o, 


In murrunrs at her feet he said ; 


^H 




That — who, of all the world, should meet* 


And Reason op'd her garment'ei fold, 


^H 




One early dawn^ but Love and Heasoo I 


And flung it round his fever*d bead. 
He fek her bosom's icy touch. 


■ 




LoTc told bis dreain of yestemigbt. 


And st>4>n ii lull'd his pulse to rest; 


^H 




^Vhile Reason talk'd about the weather ; 


For, ah ! the chill was quite too much. 
And Love expir'd on Reason s breast 1 


^H 




The morn, in sooth, was fair and bright. 


^H 




And tMi they took their way to^ither. 




^1 




The boy in many a gambol flew. 




H 






While Reaiioo, like a Juno, stnlk'd, 








And from her portly figure threw 


Nat, do not weep, my Fanny dear \ 
While iu tbesi* arms you lie^ 






A lengthened shadow, as she wulk'd. 








This world hath not a wish, a fear, 






Ho wonder Lore, as on they passed, 

Shoold ftnd that snnny morning chill. 
For iliU the shadow Reason cast 


That ought to cost that eye a tear, 
That heart, one single sigh. 






FcU o'er the boy, and coord him still. 


The world ! — ah, Fanny, Love mnst shun 








The pat lis where many rove j 






In rain he tried his wings to warm, 


One bosom to recline upon. 


^1 




Or find a palhwa> not so dim. 


One heart to lie his only -one, 






Por ftill the maid's gi^ntic form 


Are quite enough for Love. 






Would stalk between the son and him. 


Whnt can we wish, that is not here 






**Thb most not be," said little Love — 


littween your arras and nrme? 




1 


*' The sun wai made for more than you-** 


Is there, on earth, a space s*i dear 




So, turning through a myrtle grove. 


As that within the happy sphere 






He bid the portly nymph adieu. 


Two loving arms entwine ? 






Now gaily roves the laughing boy 


For me, there*s not a lock of jet 






Ccr many a mead, l>y many a stream j 


Adown yoor temples currd. 






£n every breeie inhaling joy, 


Within whose glossy, tangling net. 






And drinking bliss in every beam. 


My soul doth not, at once, forget 




1 




All, all this worthless world. 




Frnm all the gardens, all the bowers. 








He eoJl'd the many sweets they ihaded. 


Tis in those eyes, so full of love. 






And ate the fruits and smeird the flawen. 


My only worlds 1 see ; 






Till taale wis gone and odour fisded. 


I^t but thrir orbs in fiunshine move. 
And earth below and skies aliove, 




L 




May frown or smile for me. 




■- 





88 



MOOEE'S WORKS, 



ASPASIA. 

*TwA8 in the feir Aapasia'a bower, 
That Love and henm'mg^ nmny on hour, 
fa dullumce met ^ and learning siiiird 
With pleasure on llie pkyful child. 
Who often stole, to dud a nest 
WithiD the folds of Learn iug'^ vest. 

There, as the lijct'ning statesman hnug 
In tmnsport on Asposia's tongnc. 
The destinies at' Athens tiKik 
Their colour from A spas la's look, 
i )h hftppy time, when laws of state. 
When all that ml'd the country's fate,, 
Its glory, quiet, or alarms. 
Was plann'd between two saow'-white arms I 

Blest limes 1 thoy could not ftlwEjs last — 
And yet, ev'n now, they tire not past* 
Though we have lost the p^iant mould, 
In which their men were caM of old* 
Woman, dear woman, still the same. 
While heauty breathes through soul or frame, 
'VVhiJe man possesses heart or eyes, 
Woiiian*8 bright etnpire never dies I 

No, Fanny, love, they neVr nhall say. 
That l>eanty's charm hath passed away ; 
Give but the universe a soul 
At tun "d to woman's soft control. 
And Fanny lialh the charm, the skill. 
To wield a universe at wilL 



t ti w>i 1ma|Hn«d bf *omt of ttie and^^nt* tli«L thnra !• aa 
rthrrp^l nCf«n abo^o ui, jiihI ihint ttir f un aad moriii m« two 
fla«tlii||, tumlociiiu liJ»Ti4l». In *fUSch tht tplntm of thr Mcrt n- 
ildr. Aeroniltifljr mt- nod thxt thr word QmimmH W4i •omc- 
tlivi<^ «ynonjini>iM with s^, iml death woa iMt (infri^qui-ntlf 
Call4^ li«««#M« w*f*4, f'>r " ttiQ p^.tBiajl^ of the occvi." 

* Kiiti«|>tu*, !» h\a Ufa of iMRitiUrhtu, irtU tit of two Uiau- 
Htul Uttic tp'rltt tir Iovm, which trimhUcUiH ^lil4^rJ lij en- 
rh«iitmipnt fr»m Ih* w*rm •pHI»ijr« ♦» (**«Iara i ** dlcm' wil«n* 
tll>ui U4f* thn •ulhrrr of lite Dii »-»tMkU p. I(MJ Uhn 
•u« kw4 Griiloi : " which woftda, hovtv^r, tuf net to Bwia- 

I And (rvm On«rtui, UiM AaMtki, lo tli« wlflklMMfliood 
9i Glfl4«r«, w&* thocrltfbratmt far Itt m Mrm t print*! «n<l I h^ave 
pfifcrrttd it *• * mor* po*tl4^l n*n%v Ihmn G«idMra< CHliirliM 
^uatcs llUroaimitt. '*K*| m ilk villa In vtd«it« C«4&r» 



TIJK 

GRECIAN GIIILS DREAM 

OF TlIK tiLKSSED ISLANDS.! 
TO HKtl U>YER. 



Ub1fmy(nt, imt n x*f •**Tf*e«* ((Wf«r. 

Opg<tp, cotitcta. 

Was it the moon, or was it morning's ray, 
Thmt caird tljee, dearest, from thc&e arms uway ? 
Scaree had'st thou left me, when a dream of night 
Came o'er my spirit so distinct and bright. 
That, while I yet can vividly recall 
Its nitcbing wooders, thou shalt hear ihera alt. 
Met bought I saw, upon the lunar beam, 
Two winged boys, such as thy muse might dream, 
Descending fVom above, at that still hour. 
And gliding, witb smooth step, into my bower. 
Fair as the beauteoui spirits that, all day, 
In Amatha's warm founts imprison'd stay, * 
But rise at midnight, frtjui tb* enchanted rill. 
To cool their plymes upon some mcx>ntight bill. 

At once 1 knew their mission ; — 'twas to bear 
My spirit upward, llirough the paths of air, 
To that elytfiian realm, from whence stray beams 
So oft, in sleep, had visited my dreams. 
Swift at their touch disaolv'd the ties, that clung 
All earthly round me, and aloft I sprung ; 
Wliile, heav'nward guides, the little genii flew 
Thro* paths of light, refreshed by heaven sown dew, 
And fann*d by airs still fragrant with the breath 
Of cloudless climes and worlds that know not death, 

Thou koow'st, that, far beyond our nether sky. 
And shown but dimly to man's erring eye, 
A mighty ocean of blue ether rolls, ^ 
Gf mm'd with bright islands, w here the chosen stiulx, 
Who\"e pass'd in lore and love their earthly hours, 
Repose for ever in unfading bowers. 

nomlnt^ AmAtha. ubl caltdK aqus erumpunt." — Gmffrm^* 
dtHkf. lib in. up. 13. 

* Thii bclkr of an ocnui In tbc liittrMt, or ** w«tcr« Above 
thp OriTiJMnent," wta otie of lb* miUlf pb|St») erron In whJrh 
the rjirJjr f»theri U-wildrrrtl thPiOKlv«*. La P. R«ltiu, in his 
" D«renw det Sjiinu F^m occiiiM de PlBliiolnii#/* uUitff tt 
tar cmntn] th«t thr Aiictentt w^rc mote eormt In IbdriiotkiNnt 
( wh'l'rh ti^ no m«*An» apiif^Tn Trnm what I tiare idreadf qiinC)eid>, 
•tkluceB the uhttlnAtjr nf the fathr r». In thU whiroflcal o|iiid(fa, 
»» % proof of thflr repumiAiic« to rrcn truth from the h4iult 
vf th(« phUrMophpri. Thli U a ararnf^^ wmy of defeftiUQt lh« 
r^ihrrt, ami iittr1but«^ miM^h inorr than chcf 4atwv«toth« 
phjlovophrr*. Fur an alutrart <if ibti work of BaUui, (tlkc 
op|Ki«#T «r Fontvnrtle, Van Dal#, Ac. tn the Ckmoiu Oradt 
eontfnv er*Y,} mm " lliUlotblqtM! de* Aui»ure Kccl^flait, 4a 
IS* »l^ele." iMTt 1. loin.ll. 




JITVEXILE POEMS. 



89 



Thiit very moon^ whose solitary IjVht 
So often guidec thee to my bower at night, 
It no chlU planet, but an isle of \qyq^ 
Floating in splendour throtigh those &ea5 aboTe, 
And peopled with bright furms, aerial f^rown, 
Nor knowing anght of earth but love alone. 
Thither, I thought, we wing'd our airy way i — 
Mild o*er it» Talleys streamed a tsilvery day. 
While, all around, on lily beds of rest, 
Rcelin*d the spirits of the iuimortiil Blest J 
Oh ! there I met those few congenial maids. 
Whom lore hath wartti'd, in philosophic shades ; 
There «till Leon ti urn ^, on her sage » breast^ 
Found lore and lore, was tutor'd and carest ; 
And there the chusp of Pytbia's ^ gentle amis 
Kepaid the ;ical which deified her cliarmfi. 
The Attic Master*, in Aspasia'^ eyes, 
Forgot the yoke of less endearing tif'S, 
l^liile fair Theano ** innocently fair. 
Wreathed playfully her SaniiEin*fi flowing hair, • 
Whose Boul now fix'dj its transniigrationM past, 
Found in those arms a restirtg-place, at last ; 
And imiling own'd, whale er his dreamy thought 
In mystic numbers long liad rainly sought. 
The One that's formed of Two whom love hath 

bound, 
la the best number god« or men e'er found. 

Bui thiuk, my Theon, with what Joy I thriird, 
When near ft fount, which through the ralley 
riU*d 



* Thtn wore varioui opinion* anions tb« andcntt witli 
fi«|Mel lolbctr Iw&ar efttablifhment ; some ro«de it mi <*ljr»luii], 
md *Hbmn « pnr^Urrj ; wtille tonw tnppoMd It to 1j« a kind 
«f tmtrtpdt b> Hn >CB bMiv«u and fsartb, wbcfra iouli wbkh bad 
Mfc Cb«lr Sidles, ud tboie tbat were on their way Im join 
CbffB, ««re d«p(M(l«d In the Taller of llecato, and remained 
llll foflhrr ordan. Tm* ••«* #tJii|Hi» iitei Xij^ur «vn< s*r«f- 
««i». »af mw mvrvt aatfw xafut <jf r^t w^tyntt jrinrir. — Sf<»6. 

* Ttn , , < of f'.pfcurui, who caUnd her hit 
** 4aftf i ' "tTm^t**), Af Kffpearf by a fritginunt 
«loii»"i (iltm^ Thii I^^mUmn wiUB woman 
of ttlltnt * ' *i%b HmU ih« Ifnpu(i4>nce (layt Cicero) to write 
wmlntt Tti««f>brA*(u* C* and Ctcrro, at the %amit 'Ime, gfvei 
l^__ . . .., . k I _ rjp||},^r polUff nor tranilatablt?. '• Mere- 
'■■ KM contra Thcoi^tirnjtum tcribore atiaa 

.-or. Sho left a iL)i(i|ihti;r calletX Danae, 
I in Kpkurfian a» brr mother ; iomtthiniir 
< - In Afathon. 

i unich brtli-r, I think, U the natne wcrt- 

f.^<mt|a, a» ii ixyur* th* (Irtt tlrno In Lomtitia ; but M. U4- 
iMjffr will iMl h<'ar of I HI* ri^nHIti;?. 

■ fjtWi Ha* a Willi ^ .ind f o whom 

ill*r Ihv daath he f. . > >i\t\^ h4<r mc* 

P' bf Ilia aamc' &«* : MiT>T<d to the 

I Cerra^ Tot thU in»|4itU4 ^idiUuiiry the plnloiophrr 
^ tttrntrv^^^ton^Ht^l ; but (t w^iuh* bp wf.|Ji irct^rtaln ot our 
I ftiAfjrUet tbowed a (lltle of thU fupervtltlon about 
v*ry of fhelf fnlitrrate*. 

* ftotratea. who lucd lo rnniole hlroaclf In the tnciHjr of 
*U*% ciideartng tlea** whicb be found at 



My fancy's eye beheld a form recline, 

Of lunar race, but ho resembling thine 

That, oh I 'twas but fidelity' in me, 

To fi\\ ti> clasp, and worship it for thee. 

No aid of words the unbodied poul requires. 

To waft a wish or embassy desires; 

But by II power, to spirits only given, 

A deep, mute impulse, only felt in heaven, 

Swilter than meteor shaft through summer skit-s, 

From soul to soul the glaoc'd idea flies. 

Oh, my beloved, how divinely sweet 
Is the pure joy, when kindred spirits meet I 
Like him, the river-god 7, whose watere flow, 
With love their only lights through care« below, 
Wafting in triumph all the flowery hnudsi 
And festal rings, with which Olympic maids 
Have deck'd his current, as au offering meet 
To lay at Arethusa's shining feet 
Think, when he meets at last his fountain-bride, 
AVhflt perfect love must thrill the hknded tide 1 
Each lost in each, till, mitigling into one, 
Their lot tl*e same for shadow or for sun, 
A type of true love, to the deep ihey run. 
*Twas thus — 

But, Theon, 'tis an endless theme, 
And thou grow'et weary of my half-tokl dream. 
Oh would, my love, we were together now. 
And I would woo sweet patience to thy brow, 
And make thee smile at all the mugic tales 
Of starlight bowers and planetary valis, 




wHh XantJppe. For an account of thU extraordinarf 
creature. An>«^ka, and her »cboo) oferuditeluiLuryat Atheni, 
ice t^'lllttolri! de rArjulomle, ikc, tooi^ xxxL p. 69. Scgur 
rather fuilk €n the tniplrln^ tuhject of A»paaia. — "Lei 
Frmmci," torn, t p. 12'J. 

The Author of the " Voyaifc du Monde de Dcicartoi " bu 
at«Q placed theftephllosoi>herf la the moon, and ha« HUnited 
»elgrneiiirle« to ihem, a« well a> to the aatronomeri (part M. 
p. 143.) ; but he ou||ht nol to hare forgotten their wlret and 
mUtreiseft; "curar oon \^k In inoric rellnquunl/* 

* There are Kime teniihie letters extjunt under the name of 
thit fair fytha^reon. Tbej arc addressed to Iter teinalv 
frlendj upon the edutatjon of thlldreu, the treatment of fcr- 
vanta, &c One, In particular, to Niooatrata, wboaa huihand 
h4d ghen l>er reaKMia fur Jealoiuy, cotitMlui inch truly eon- 
•Idenueand ratl^mal advice, that It ought lo be trantlated for 
the edincatkKi of ill married ladlej, See Gale'i OputcuL 
Myth. Fhyi. p,T4L 

' Pyihagoraa va« remarkable for fine hair, and Poctor 
'lliten (in hU HLtioire dea Pcrruque») teemi to take for 
granted tt wa« all hi* own i aa he hai not mentioned him 
amnitf tbo»e anclenta who were obliged to have recourM 
to the " coma appotititia.'^ L*I-li«toirc dci Perruquat, cba* 
pjlro i, 

' The river Alpbeua, which flowed by Pba or Olyropta, 
and Into which U wa* cuitomary to throw oflVrtngt of dif- 
ferent kindi, during the eelebratloa of the fil^mplc gamea, 
tn the pretty romance of CtMophoo and Leuclptie^ the river 
if «i«ppo»ed to curry tbote offering* as bridat glfli to the foun* 
tain Arethiiia< K«i iwf n* A^iftMwt ti/rm ttt Axf%t9t t^- 
gacrftitM. jr«* Miv 4 fw •Xn^trtm ii««i|^ m, t^ kt Lilt. L 





r 


"1 

1 




90 MOORE'S WORKS. 


Which my fond snnl, iiispird t»y tlicc and love. 


Ah ! — if there were not somefhiuf? wrong, 




In BJtimber's loom Imth funcifullv wove. 


The world would see them blended of\j 




But no ; no more^ — loon hb to-morrow^i ray 


The Chain wi^uld raivke the Wreath ^o strong! 




OVr soft IlliBaus ghatl have died away, 


The Wreath would make the Chain so soft I 




I'll come, and, -while love's planet in the west. 


TUen miiL'ht the gold, the tlow'rets he 




Shmca o*cr our meeting, tt'U thee all the rest 


Sweet fi'ttere for my love aod me. 

Buf, Fanny, so unhlest they twine, 

That (Heavin alone can tell the reason) 








When mingled thus they cease to GhinCi 




TO CLOE. 


Or shine but for a transient season. 




IHITATED FROM SiAaTIAU 


Whether the Chain may press too much, 
O that the Wreath is slighily braided^ 




I coui.i> resign that eye of hlue 


Let but the gtjJd the liow'rete touch. 




i low e'er ]i& splendour used to ihriU me j 


And all tlielr bloom, their glow is faded! 




And ev'u thut eheek. of ro&eute hue, — - 


Oh! better to be always free, 




To lose lU Cloe» scare* would kill me. 


Tlian thus to bind my love to me. 




That snowy neck I ne'er should mis*, 


TriE timid girl now hutig her head, 




However mueh I've rnv'd nhout it j 


And, as she turned an upward glance. 




And sweetly as that lip enn kiss, 


I saw a doubt its twilight spread 




I think I could exist without it. 


Acmss her brow*8 divine expanse, t 
Just then, the garland's brightest rOM 




In short, to well Tyc leiim*d to fiut. 


Gave one of its love -breathing sighs ^ 




That, sooth my love, I know not whether 


Oh I who can ask how Fanny chose. 




I ntight not hring myself at hwt. 


That ever lookM in Fanny's eyes? 




To — do without you altogether. 


"The Wreath, my lift', the Wreath shall be 
" The tie to bind my soul to thee.'* 




Tm 






WREATH AND THE CHAIN. 


^ 




I BRING thee, loTe, a golden chain, 


TO 




I bring thee too a flowery wreath *, 
The gold shall never wear a itain. 








The 0ow*rets long shall sweetly hreathe. 


Ani> host thou mark'd the pensive shade. 




Come, tell me which the tie shall be. 


That many a time ob^riires my brow. 




To bind thy gentle heart to me. 


Midst all the joys, beloved maid. 

Which thou canst give» and only thou ? 




The ehain is form'd of golden threads, 


• 




Bright as Minerva's yellow hair, 


Oh ! 'tis not that I then forget 




When the hiSt beam of evening sheds 


The bright look^ that liefure me shine; 




Its caUn and sober lustre there. 


For nevt'r throbb'd a bosnm yet 


^^H 


The Wreath's of brightest myrtle wove, 


Could feel their witchery, like mine. 


^^B 


With sun-lit drops of bliss among it. 




^^^^ 


1 And many a rose-leaf, cuird by Love, 


When bash fill on my bosom hid. 


^^^H 


1 To heal his lip when bees have stung it 


And blush tog to huve felt so blest. 


^^^^^ 


' Come, tell me wfaieh (he tie shall be, 


Thofi dost but lift thy languid lid, 


■ 


To bind Uiy gentle heart to me. 


Again to close it on my breast ; — 


■ 


Yes, yes, I read tliat ready eye, 


Yes,— these are minutes all thine own, 




Which answer* when the tongue is loath. 


Thine own to give, and mine to feel ; 


■ 


Thou rik*st the form of either tie. 


Yet ev'n in them, my heart has known 


L 


And apread'st thy playful hands tor both. 


The sigh to rise, the tear to steal* 


1 


1 ^ 


^ 



JUVENILE POEMS. 



91 



For Ibswl 

Ukmmmwmlan'4,1SktwmwmUttL 

rrpoo Aw BMM fSkj ■arrn'riiig tongoe 
Pevii^B hatk all at tveetly dwdt ; 
UpoB lus w o rf i tluBB car liatli Imnc^ 
! Wkk traaaport all at pordy feH. 



Far him— yet why tW pait reeall. 
To daanp aad witber pretest blia? 

ThoB'rt BOW my ova, heart, iphit, all, 

Aad HeacvcB eoald gtwH no man than this! 

Forgire nae* deareat, oh! Ibtghre; 

I woold he ftnt, be sole to thee, 
ThoB abooMit have hot began to lire. 

The hour that gave thy heart to me. 

Thy book of life till then eiEie'd, 
Ixn^ ahoold bave kept that leaf alone 

Od vhieh he int ao bri^^tly trac'd 
Thai fSbam wert, tool and all, my own. 



TO 

. •S PICTURE 



Go then, if she, whose sbade thoa art. 
No more will let thee sooth my pain ; 

Tet, tell her, it has cost this heart 
Some pangs, to gire thee back again. 

Tell her, the smile was not so dear. 

With which she made thy semblance mine. 

As bitter is the homing tear. 

With which I now the gift resign. 

Tet go — and conid she still restore, 
Aa some exchange for taking thee. 

The tranquil look which first I wore. 
When her eyes found me calm and free ; 

Coold she gire back the careless flow. 
The spirit that my heart then knew — 

Tet, BO, *tis Tain — go, picture, go — 
Soule at me once, and then — adieu! 



> Love ami Pfyche mn ber« considered as the actiTe and 
fatafra prfaadplca of craatkm, and the unWerse Is supposed to 
kava rceaivad Ha Ant hannonUing impulse from the nuptial 
BjM pa rt i j bctvaao these two powers. A narriafe Is gene- 
twBf tba irac Map ia c osaa o g o ay. Tlmaras held Form to be 
tha Mker, and Matter the mother of the World ; Ellon and 



FRAGMENT 



or 



A MYTHOLOGICAL HTMN TO LOVBJ 

Blest in&nt of eternity 1 
Before the day-star leam*d to more. 
In pomp of fire, along his grand career. 

Glancing the beamy shafts of light 
From his rich quiver to the fiuthest sphere. 
Thou wert alone, oh Lore I 
Nestling beneath the wings of ancient Night, 
Whose horrors seem*d to smile in shadowing 
thee. 

No form of beauty sooth*d thine eye, 

As through the dim expanse it wandered wide ; 

No kindred spirit caught thy sigh. 
As o>r the watery waste it ling*ring died. 

Unfelt the pulse, unknown the power. 
That latent in his heart was sleeping, — 

Oh Sympathy ! that lonely hour 

Saw Lore himself thy absence weeping. 

But look, what glory through the darkness beams! 
Celestial airs along the water glide : — 
What Spirit art thou, moving o'er the tide 
So beautiftd? oh, not of earth. 
But, in that glowing hour, the burth 
Of the young Godhead*8 own creative dreams. 

*Ti« she ! 
Psyche, the firstborn spirit of the air. 
To thee, oh Love, she turns. 
On thee her eyebeam bums : 
Blest hour, before all worlds ordain*d to be I 

They meet — 
The blooming god — the spirit fair 

Meet in communion sweet 
Now, Sympathy, the hour is thine ; 
All nature feels the thrill divine. 
The veil of Chaos is withdrawn. 
And their first kiss is great Creation's dawn I 



Derouth, I think, are Sanchonlatho*s first spiritual loreri, and 
Manco-capac and his wife introduced creation amongst the 
Peruvians. In short, llarlequbi seems to have studied cos- 
mogonies, when he said "tutto 11 moodo d fiiUto ooma la 
nostra fkmiglia.'* 



MOORE^S WORKS, 



TO 

HIS SEREME UIGIINltJiS 

THR DIJKK OF MONTPENSIER, 

PORTRAIT or rUK LADY ADELAIDE rOEAES. 

Dtminftan Pari, 1*02, 
To catcli the though t» by paintiagV Bptll, 

Howe'er remote, however refin'd, 
Aod o'er the kiDdllog cAnTSAS tell 

The silent story of the miiidj 

O'er nnture'g form to gUince the eye, 
And fix, hy mimic light and shade. 

Her morning tinges, ere they fly, 

Her evening hUtshcs, ere they fade j — 

Ye*, the«e are Pain ting's pnnidest power* ; 

The gill^ by which her art divine 
Above all others proudly towel's,— 

And these, oh Prince ! arc richly thine* 

And yet, when Friendship see* the« trace. 

In almost living truth exprest, 
ThiJi bright memorial of a face 

Oq which ber eye delights to re^t ; 

While o*cr the lovely lool serene, 

The smile of peace,, the bloom of youth, 

The cheek, that bliinlies to be seen. 
The eye tJiat tells the bosom's tnilh ; 

Willie o*er each line, so brightly true, 
Onr eyes with lingVing pleasure rove. 

Blessing the touch whose various hoe 
Thuj hriygs to mind the form we love ; 



I TlKMigli 1 bav» ttyM Iht* po«ni ■ Dith> ramble Ode. t 
ouMwl pmumt to lay that It po«f<c«>et, fa anj- dogrr«, lh« 
ehMtarterittlc* of th«t tpccin of poHtf. The nature of the 
«nckr«t DithyrmmhU' ii tfrry Imperfectly ktiovn, AccordJDf 
lo M. Bufette, « licentloui Irfrgularlly of in«t«?, on cjitraira- 
pmt rwfarcb of thought and exprrktiDn, and « rudv ernhnr- 
nsMd ciNUitrurtlon, we mmong ita muil dUttOiruUhlnif fea- 
fciiraa ; and In aU thcfa reftp«ct», t hnvi" but too closely ^ t 
temt, follow«4 my modfjt. Burc*it« a4d9, "^ C«« CKraddm 
dot dUhf ramlwt *c font mt^ntir ^ ceux i}ut livsai attcntlvvmeot 
km odn da Pindarr." — U^m&trts 4^ FAatA, vol. x, p. 3136, 
Tk#IHM«^kon tnay \im c«UecU>cl from Schmldri ilUfrcr- 
I Vht- luljjecL 1 think, howcTer. If the Dtthy- 
I of Ftmtar wprr In our ftoMCMloii. noihould ftnil ilmi^ 
vlldand lkn«ifiil, they arerv hy no maani thi> iwXv^ 
liTM Jargon thar mnt rvprun'tiiieHj, and that evsn their irrcRij* 
ItttHy wni HhNi Dollcviu caIU ''uo Immu d6tordr&" Clila- 
hrvra, wh« Km hcvn ^lyli^ the Pindar of Italy, ao<1 from 
irhoro all lU poetry upMi Iha Grttth. uodal vaa called Chla- 
IvriHvtro (at Crw«ctni1ieBl Inltamt M, llln I. cap. .^), hai 
fffrfui, a«nofi]r*t hU VandtfitnttJ*. a Dlthynunhlc, *' air u«o de' 
Orvcl \ '* tuit of Ihotc cooapound ^HUfU^ which, wc arc biUi, 
wer« a chief cHamcterlttkr of the ityVa (r»*4krfK h ti^*i 
i««M»9. — Stuil AAt ^ ^*>«l.> i nieli aa 



We feel the magic of thy art, 
And own it with a Ee*t, a zeal, 

A pleauure, nearer to the heart 
Than critic taste can ei7er feel. 



THE 

THE FALL OF HEBR 

A DCTUVHAVatO ODK»l 

'TwAB on fl diiy 
When the imuiortals at their banquet lay j 
The 1m>wI 
Sparkled %vith starry dew. 
The weeping of thone my rind urnfi of light, 
AVithin whose orbs» ihe almighty Power, 
At nature's dawning hour, 
Stored the rich fluid of ethereal sotiL* 

Around, 
Soft odorous clouds, that upward wing their flight 

From eastern isles 
(Where they have bath'd them in the orient ray, 
And with rich fragmnce all their InDsoms fiird), 
In circles Hew, and, melting as they flew, 
A liquid daybreak o'er the board dktiird« 

All, all v,m luxury J 
All mujit be luxury, where L) leus smiles. 
II is locks divine 
Were crowned 
With a bright njeteor-braid. 
Which, like an ever-springing wreath of vine. 

Shot into brilliant leafy shapes. 
And er his brow io lauibeot tendrils play'd : 



Brlj^liitdorato I'cgwo 

Nuh^calpMtator. 
But I cannot ttttTpoce thjit Ftodar, oven imid<|«Uthe lirtim 
t\( dlthyrainblai, iaduM ever baT« de«ccii4cd to balliul-iun- 
gwkgv Uk.e the fMlltiwIti^ : 

BtillaFjllLebrllaClurU 
Sun pi d«r |>rc(ri» a tiH> b*<lleiia e tac4, 
Cbti >» Bareo fa iretxl atle tule l^blm 
Fo 1« tlcho a* Tuftrl had. 

^ ^ c«*er Torrel Capfiiar, 
R w trrjppij d««lra 
Deh foiil *o Bottlslter, 

Bime tlet CmaauiA, part it p. 3^1. 

• Thlt 1» a Ptatonk fancy. Th© phflou>plier ruppoica, In 
hli Ti(ii«u>. that, when the Deity bad formed tha 10111 of Uw 
ivnrld, he proceedrd to the covpoflltion of other toida, In 
which proee*ft, t*}i Plato, be made u** of tha aana ctip« 
tboafh llwr hi|^r9dl«nt« he nilnfl«d were not qtihi^ •» pur# a* 
tor tb« foroMr \ and Imrinir rcilneil the mixture with a lliila 
of bit own natiBW, he dlrirlbuted It arnon^ the iiari. which 
»ervfd a* mervoLr* of Iba Huld. — T«»e' tiwt mat v«A#» mt 
¥»» vfenetr afweafA u * vwt «•* wmrtH ^¥xn* aKC«»*i>r Mwya* 






^^^^^ 


1 


JUVENILE POEMS. 93 


1 


While mid the foliage hxiag, 


Gush'd forth into the cup with mantling he&t^ 


Like lacid grapes, 


Her watchful care 


■ 


' A thooasnd clostenng bods of light. 


Was Biill to cool its liquid fire 


■ 


OiiU*d firom the gardeod of the galaxy. 


With SDOw-wbite sprinklings of that feathery 


1 


Uprm hSs botom Cythereft's head 


The children of the Pole respire, 


I 


1 l^y larely, as when first the Syrena tnng 


In those enchanted lands, ^ 


■ 


1 Her beauty fi dawn. 


Where Life is all a spring, and north winds never 


■ 


^U^Dd ill the curt&ins of the deep, imdrawn, 


blow. 


■ 


^^nU^r«al'd her ftleeping in its axure bed. 




■ 


^F The captire deity 


But oh ! 


■ 


H Hong lingering on her eyes and lip, 


Bright Hebe^ what a tear, 


1 


■ With looks of ecitasy. 


And what a bluah were thine. 




^V Now, on his arm. 


When, as the breath of erery Grace 




H In blujihi'S she rcpos'd^ 


Wafled thy feet along the studded sphere. 




1 And, whilt! be gaz*d on each bright charm. 


With a. bright cup for Jove himself to drink, 




1 Toslndehisbaniingeye^ her hand in daUiance stole. 


Some star, that shone beneath thy tread, 
Raising its amorous head 




1 And now the raia'd her ro^y mouth to stp 


To kiss those matchless feet, 




H The nectar'd wuve 


Check'd thy career too fleet j 




1 Lyteus gave, 


And all heaven's host of eyes 




■ And from her eyelid*, half*way cloa'dy 


Entranc'd, but fearful all, 




1 Sent forth a melting gleam, 


Saw thee, sweet Hebcp prostrate fail 




1 Which fell, like son-dew, in the bowl t 


I pon the bright floor of the azure skies j* 




■ While her bright hair, in raozy flow 


Where, mid its stars, thy beauty lay, 




1 Of gold descending 


As blossom, shakeo from the spray 




1 Adown her cheek's luxiiriaus glow. 


Of a spring thorn, 




W Hung o'er the goblet^s side. 


Lies mid the liquid sparkles of the mom« 




AjmI wag reflected in it« crystal tide, 


Or, as in temples of the Paphian shade. 




1 Like a bright crocus t5ower» 


The worshippers of Beauty's queeu behold 




Who«e sunny leaves, at evening hour 


An image of their rosy idol, laid 




With ro«es of Cyrene blending, i 


Upon a diamond shrine* 




&iig a'er the mirror of some silvery itream. 


The wanton wind. 




The Olympian cup 


Which bad pursu'd the flying fair. 




Shone in the hands 


And siXJrted mid the tresses nuconfin'd 




Of dimpled fiel)e, as she wing*d her feet 


Of her bright hair, 




ITp 


Now, as she fell, — ^oh wanton breeze I 




The empyreal mount. 


Ruffled the robe, whose graee^l flow 




To drain the soul-drops at their stellar fount \^ 


Hung o'er those limbs of unsnnii^d snow, 




And mill 


Purely as the Eleusiniao veil 




1 As the resplendent rill 


Oangs o*er the Mysteries!^ 




I We laarn rroin Th^ophraJtua, th&t the ^«m of Cyrvfie 


_ Hnitoixrr. liti. W. cap. 31. OrU lelli the falile otberwlta : 






ace MetomorplL lib. xv. 




S Bcrwditufl (Fhyiicut) h^lJ iho foul to be a tpark of the 


Mr. 0'l!aJ,liorim. and loroe other Irlah antfquatrlanj, have 




itelUr«t«eac« — " J^dntilUileUariseuenUK."— Uacroulta, 


bef^n at great expend of learning to prore that the ft t range 




fai Stfom, Scif. Jib. L c«p, 14. 


ccjunlry, whert* tlxej took atiov far feather*, irai Ireland, and 




* Th* coontrj of th« Iriyperlxtnuns^ Tb0*o people vrere 


thai the famoui Abarta w»* an Irlih Druid, Mr, Howland„ 




iN|ipOM(l to b* placed k> far north thiit thci north wind tuuld 


bowcTer, will bat-o It thai Abarta woi a W«»|ibman, atid tha* 




act afliMt tban ; th«j 11 red 1ong«r tlinn any other morul«^ 


hka name l» «iily » eorrtipUoii of Ap Keea t 






* U It Serviu», I bellere, who mentions thii tjiduckv trip 




tkm moM etttniTainnt fiction rttated of thrni It that to which 


vlHflch Uebe made in her occufiatlon of cup bearer ; and HolT- 




tSw two Wuet preceding Allnd^. It wju Imair^nedi thnt. Instead 


man t4^1]i It after him : *' Cum Ht'befKJCuia Juiri adtnlnlktrona. 




of oormiilfrar atmotphcrf, theHypprlMjreHiis brcallicd nothins 


pcrque lubricum mbkui caut§ focedena, cecyjaaet," ^c 




bail feaChcM^ \ According to Ht^roJolui and PVniy. tbia Idea 


s Tlie arcane lymbolt of lhl» ceremony were depot! teil In 




mmt augfofcd by thcquantltj of maw whicli wofl o1]«erv«I to 


the data, where tliey lay religioualy rfinccajed frtiw th« ejea 




|«|| lo ||io*« regloiu; tbut the (ormrr : T« it rrt;* ijjc»f**. 


cif the i«rofAne. They were gi-netally curried In the proceijiion 






bjoaua-, and hetice the prorerb, which one ma j to unen 






• 


£ 



p 


[ 




r 


94 MOORE'S WOHKS. 




The brow of Juuo fliifih*d^^ 


The yonthful Day, 




Love blcssM the breeze ! 


Within hh twilight bower, 




1 


The Museablufih'dj 


Lay sweetly sleeping 






And every chetk wo* hid behind a lyre. 


On the flitsb*d bosom of a lotos^flowcr ; > 




k 


Wkile every eye look*d l&iighing thruogli tbe 


When round him, in profusion weeping, 




■ 


strings. 


Dropped the celestial shower, 
Steeping 






But the bright cup ? the nectar'd dnmght 


The rosy clouds, that eurl'd 






Which Jove hluist'lf was to have quaff 'd ? 


About his infant head. 






Alas, alaJi» upturned it lay 


Like myrrh upon the Ux^ks of Cupid shed. 






By the rall'n Hebe's side ; 


But, when the waking boy 






While^ in slow lingering drops, th' ethereal tide. 


Wav'd his exhaling tresses through the sky, 






A^ consciofu of its own rich essence, ehh'd away. 


O morn of joy f — 
The tide di%'sne, 






Wbo was the Spirit that remembered Man, 


AH glorious with the vermil dye 






In that hlesl hoar, 


It drank beneath his orient eye. 






And, with a wing of love. 


Distill*d, in dews, npon the world. 






Druiih'd off the goblet's scattered tear*. 


And every drop was wtne, was heavenly wire I 






As, trenihling, near the edge of heaven they ran, 


Blest be the sod, and blest the flower 






And sent ihem floating to t>ur orb below ? i 


On which descended first that shower, 






Essence of immortal it j ! 


All fresh from Jove's nectnreous springs j — 






The shower 


Oh fitr less sweet the flower, the aod. 






Fell glowing through the spheres; 


O'er which the Spirit of the Rainbow flinga 






While all nround new tints of bliss, 


The magic mantle of her solar God I * 






New odours and new light, 








Enrich'd its radiant flow. 








Now, with a liquid kiss. 










It stole along the thrilling wire 








Of HeaveQ*6 luminoos Lyre. « 








Stealing the soul of music in its flight : 


RINGS AND SEALS. 






And now, amid the breezes bland, 








That whisper from the planeis as they roll* 


AcmviMa TATiet, lib. Jl. 






The bright libatiou, softly fanned 








By all their sighs, meandering stole. 


" Go 1 " said the angry, weeping maid. 






They who, from Atlas height, 


** Tlie chanii is broken I — once betray 'd, 






Beheld this rosy flame 


" Never can thi*i wroiig*d heart rely 






Descending through the waste of night. 


" On word or look, on oath or sigh. 






Thought 'twas some planet, whose empyreal frame 


** Take back the gifts, so fondly i^^ven. 






Hud ki[idledt as it rapidly revolv'd 


** With promised faith and vows to heaven ; 






Around Its fervid axle, and disi^olv^d 


** That little ring which, night and morn, 






Into a flood so bright ! 


" With wedded truth my hand hath worn ; 






Afiptf tn the world, •• uinut pctrtat mjtierU." Ste tb# Divlue 


bof M^AU J upon « \alm. Esrt Aiyt,trtMti l^tfrnnm ^tx^» **** 






Li^iton, l>ook a tret. L 


r»Aw r«<)in n*yp»w yim^rr*i iwt Xinr* ••Ai^,u«^t>. — Pht' 






* tn tlie GraponicA, till 11. rsfi. 17.. tbrr« It a fnhtu tonii- 


larcJk ml^it r*u inn xf imAUt;. .Sre nho hii TrrAtl*o do UUL 






what Kke IbU dc««eiit of lh«> netUt to e«rth. Et tttfrntp tw 


et 0*it. Obvprvjni; that the lotm tho»'«Hl Itj hoAd ahove 






3Mf* Hf»%mniu*it, Mm rtv ti«T«<«r r*AA««i m^mtifsttM', ■»«- 


i»«tf r at iMnrite. And Mitk niraln at ltt« tctlins. lh<<y r«nf^lvi d 








the IdrA r^ir coni<^r.itliig thkt Aower to Oiirit, or the tun. 






ff^fit ffV jB«rf», *»i rtftrfi'^mt mr ^vr*?* ** >i ttmnf ttt r^t 


ThU iyTnl*ot of a jfouth ttltinjf n\mn n 1oto» U frrjr rrnjucnt 






f^« »mx*9m, m, t. A, ViU. Autur. de It* Uml. edit. C^Ub 


an ihe AtirAXMci^ or BaiMlill.tu iton^M. Site MotiifAiaeon, 






iroi. 


torn. 11, |>lai»c[it 1M.» siid tt>r " Supplement," *c, tooi. II. 






> THe c(mtt4ili«tlon Ljrrs. The aatrolnfon jiUtlbutc ktvoI 


llt»,HI. tlMp.S. 1 








* The Ancletitt ^iiecmrd thuip tlowm and Ircti lb* iweet- 






l*atiUtia. In Ui« UrmnlA; 


iMt upMin wbtrh the rAlnluw bjid jippr arrd lu ml ; snd l,h« 




■ 


M Kmodului*, mulc^tquo aoto YK^n iid#rft eojifu. 


wnod tti«>jr chlrfly t>urn<Nl In tkiriiflcfi. nai thnt n-htch lb* 
•mile of IrU h4d fnfn^rratrd- HluUfeh. Sympoi, ttb. It* 

it undonbtcdij' tbf foQuin* rvMlint- Sfp Vo^iiui. for Mrtii* 






cftrt<wi piftrt1cu1«rltieA of tbe rAlnbow, Va Origin. H Frogr«w. 




1 




lilnUilBt. i\^ m. etp. n. 




p 


^ 


1 



JUVENnaK POEMa 95 


» TlHfc ted vliidi oft, in moDieiiti Uest, 


I knew not then that Heaven had sent 


«* Thou liaft upon my lip imprest. 


A voice, a form like thine on earth. 






** A Ibantain teal'd > fat only tbee : 


And yet, in all that flowery mase 


^ Tike* take them Inusk, the gift and tow, 


Through which my path of life has led. 


•« A n rallied. k»t and haleftil BOW ! " 


When I have beard the sweetest Uys 




From lips of rosiest lustre shed ; 


I toi^ the ring^tfae teal I took. 




While, oh, her erery tear and kx>k 


When I have felt the warbled word 


Were such as angels kxdL and shed. 


From Beanty*s lip, in sweetness vying 


When nun is hy the worid mided. 


With music's own melodious bird. 


Gendy I whispei'd, •« Fanny, dear I 


When on the rose*s bosom lying ; 


** Not half thy lorer's gifts are here: 




*• Say, where are all the kisses giTen, 


Though form and song at once combin'd 


** From mom to noon, fh>m noon to eren, — 


Their loveliest bloom and softest thriU, 




My heart hath sigh'd, my ear hath pin'd 


•* Tlmii Sokmion'a own seal of yore,— 


For something lovelier, softer still : — 


« Where are those gifts, so sweet, so many? 




«• Cosne, dearest,— gire back all, if any.'* 


Oh, I have found it aU, at last. 


1 


In thee, thou sweetest living lyre. 


j While thos I whispered, trembling too. 


Through which the soul of song e'er pass'd. 


1 Lest all the nymph had sworn was tme. 


Or feeling breath'd iu sacred fire. 


1 I saw a smile relenting rise 




1 *Mld the moist aznre of her eyes. 


All that I e'er, in wildest flight 


Like daylight o'er a sea of blue. 


Of*fimcy's dreams, could hear or see 


While yet in mid-air hangs the dew. 


Of music's sigh or beauty's light 


1 She let her cheek repose on mine. 


Is realized, at once, in thee 1 


She let my arms aroond her twine ; 




One kiss was half allowed, and then— 




The ring and seal were hers again. 


W^V^W« ,^V«.^W^#M^V 




IMPROMPTU, 




ON LEAVING SOME FRIENDS. 


TO 


O dulces comltum ralete ccetus I CATULLrs. 


MISS SUSAN B— CKF— D « 




OM HER SIMGIKG. 


No, never shall my soul forget 




The friends I found so cordial-hearted ; 


I MORE than once have heard, at night. 


Dear shall be the day we met, 


A song, like those thy lip hath given. 


And dear shall be the night we parted. 


And it was sang by shapes of light. 




Who looked and breath'd, like thee, of heaven. 


If fond regrets, however sweet. 




Must with the lapse of time decay. 


But this was all a dream of sleep. 


Yet still, when thus in mirth you meet. 


And I have said, when morning shone. 


Fill high to him that's far away I 


•• Why should the night-witch. Fancy, keep 




•* These wonders for herself alone ? " 


Long be the light of memory found 




Alive within your social glass ; 


I knew not then that fate had lent 


Let that be still the magic round. 


Such tones to one of mortal birth ; 


O'er which Oblivion dares not pass. 


> ■* There are sardens, lappoccd to be those of King Solo- 


h» signet upon the door, to keep them for hit own drinking.'* 




- MaundrtlTB TrawHM. See aUo the notes to Mr. Good's 


• fiMuitaln. whiai. they »7. 1« the * waled founUin' to which 


Translation of the Song of Solomon. 


tto haif spoiue In the Canticles !• compared ; and tbejr pre. 


* The present Duchess oTIIamilioo. 







^ 



96 MOORE'S WORKS. 




Oh I thou bceom*st each moment dearer j 


A WARNING, 


Every chance that brings me nigh tiiee, 
Brings my ruin nearer, nearer, — 


TO 


I ani lost, unless I iiy thee. 
Nay, if thou dost not scorn and hale me. 




Oh Aur u beaten and chaste ns light! 


Doom me not thus so 9oon to tall ; 


Did nature mould thee aU so bright^ 


Duties, fame, and hopei await roe, — 


That thoti filiouldst i;*er be brought to weep 


But that eye would blast them all ! 


O'er kaguid Tirtue's fatal ski^p* 




OVr shame extinguish'd, honour fled. 


For, thou hast heart as false and cold 


PeOiCe lost^ heart withered, feeling dead? 


As ever yet allur'd or sway'd, 




And couldst, without a sigh, behold 


No, no ! a star was bom iritli thee. 


The ruin which thyself had made. 


Which sheds eternal purity. 




Thou hiwt, within those sainted eyes. 


Yet, — could I think that, truly fond. 


S<5 fair a transcript of the skies. 


That eye hut once would smile oo me. 


In lines of light such heavenly lore. 


Ev'u as thou art, how far beyond 


That man should re«d them and adore* 


Fame, duty, wealth, that smite would he ! 


Yet have I known a gentle maid 




Whosi? mind and form were both array 'd 


Oh ! but to win it, night and day. 


In nalure*s purest light-, like thine ;--^ 


Inglorious at thy feet reclin'd. 


Who wore that clear, celestial sigrn. 


Vd sigh my dreams of fume away. 


lr\Tiich seems to mark the brow that's fair 


The world for thee forgot, resign 'd. 


For destiny's peculiar care : 




Whose bosom too, like Dian's own. 


But no, *tis o'er, and ^ thus we part. 


Was ^anled by a sacred zone, 


Never to meet again,— no, never. 


Where the bright gem of virtue shone ; 


False woman, what a mind and heart 


Whc«e eyes had, in their light, a chami 


Thy treachVy has undone for ever 1 


Against all wron^, and guile, and harm. 




Yet, hapless maid, io one «ud huur. 




These spells have lost their guardian power; 
The gem has been beguifd away i 






Iler eyes have lost their chaat'uiug rayj 




The modest pride, the guiltlese shame, 


WOMAN. 


The smiles that from n-flection came. 


All all have fled, and lefl her mind 




A fuded monument l)ehind ; 


Away, away — you're all the same, 


The ruins of a once pnre thrinet 


A amiliDg, fluttVing, jilting throng; 
And, wise too late, 1 burn with slumie. 


No longer fit for griest divloe. 


To think Vve been yotir slave so long. 


Oh ! *twiu a sight I wept to Bee—* 


Heaven keep the lost one** fate from thee ! 


Slow to be won, and quick to rove^ 




From folly kind, from cunning loath. 




Too cold for bliss, too weak for love, 




Vet feigning all that's best in both ; 
Still panting o*er a crowd to reign, — 






llore joy it gives to woman*h breast 


TO 


To niiike ten frigid coxcombs vain. 




Than one true, manly lover blest 




TlS time, I feel, to leave tliee now. 


Away, away — your smile's a curse— - 


WhiJc yet oiy soul iti something free j 


Oh ! blot me from the race of men. 


^ K^ile yet those dangerous eyes allow 


Kind pitying Heavea, by death or worse, 


f One minute^s thought to stray from tliee. 


If e'er I love such things again. 




JUVENILE POEMS. 



97 



Nmv »« fiATmw. 



Cone, take tb j harp — *ds Tain to mose 

UpoD the gatheriog Ills we sec ; 
di I take thy harp and kt me lose 

AU tUoughtfl of ill ID heariDg Ihee* 

Sing 10 me, love ! — though death were near. 
Thy smig could make my $ouJ forget — 

Nay. najt m pity, dry that tear, 
All may he well, be happy yet* 

Let me but see that snowy arm 

Onoe more upon the dear harp lie. 

And I will cease to dream (if harm. 
Will smile at fate, while thou art nigh. 

GiTe me that strain of mournful touch. 

We urM to iove long, long ago, 
BeScfre our hearts had known as much 

Ai now, alai I they bleed lo know. 

Sweet notes I they tell of former peace. 
Of all that look'd io smiling then. 

Now Tanish'd, lost — oh pray thee^ ceafle^ 
I cannot bear those sounds igaiti. 

Art thtm^ too» wretched? yes, thou art j 
I see thy tears flow fast with mine^ 

Come, come to this devoted heart, 
'Tia breaking, but it still ts thine I 

• ta Ptutsrcb'c Em9J on th* Decline of the Oraclei, 
OrOfikhrotut, one or the tnterlocutora, dE>«er|bM aii extra- 
oHIlMry m«o wbom h« li«d met with, nftcr long reacArch, 
i^on tbe tumki ot thu Rad Sea, Once In evcrj ye>wr Ibli 
M ^M ir na t ural pencoac* appeajred ta morUtU, and oynirericd 
villi tham ; Uie re*t ot hi* time he pasted among tlie GeiiU 
and the Xjinphi, Hi^ nt* i^fi^M B^mXttrrai^ tuftr, ttt^ti*t*i 
<■« OTVt ivat JtffSif t9WV]rX*'*'**' f«J^Aj« 2i #vt ^mt tvftj^f, 
ia»ia»» JMM Immm«« »t i^mtimM, He tpoke Id a tone not far 
■■■hjiilJ froai itnitlJic, MXid whenever be opened hU Itpt, a 
frlfrano* filled tlw place : fkyytft****' ^ »' t«*** ii^*a 
mm wt ijfl, «w tr^fun^m iiiit0T§9 mwtwnm'm* Frimi him Cleom- 
1>nMna learned the doctrine o( a plurahty of worldt. 

B Tlie celebrated Janua Dauaa, a IJttle be Tore tds death, 
1 thai he heard a ttralo of muilc Ho tbe air. See the 
1 of H^dnalua, " lo harmoDlam quam paulo anie obitum 
otidlit* aDkl liiiu eat Douta/* Page &0L 



9^^»m 2i x^^*^"** (M-iyii. 



Pjwti*ft, Olffwp^ 11. 

« OuUR, the mtt of Noah, U titppoaed to have taken with 
Ifelfla into the ark the principal doctriiiei. of ma(rk:a.l, or rather 
of nalvral. wlence, «hkh be had IntcritK-d upon tome very 
t ftubviancei, in order that the^' Tnlght rejiUt the ravage* 



VISION OF PHILOSOPHY, 

*Twas on the Red Sea coast, at morn, ire met 
The venerable maD ' ; a healthy bloom 
BUngled its softness with tht* vigorous thought 
That tower'd upon his brow ^ and, wheti he spoke, 
'Twaa language sweeten 'd into song — such holy 

sounds 
As oft, they lay, the wise and virtaoiis hear. 
Prelusive to the harmooy of heaven, 
When death is nigh ^ ; and still, as be unclos*d 
His sacred lips, an odour ^ oil as bland 
As ocean-breezes gather from the flowers 
That blossom in elysium:\ breath 'd around. 
With silent awe we listened, while he told 
Of the dark veil which many an age had hung 
O'er Xaiure^s form, till, long eiplort^d by man, 
The mystic shroud grew thin and Itimiuous, 
And glimpses of that heavenly form shooe thro*: — 
Of magic wonders, that were ktiown and taught 
By him (or Cham or Zoroaster nam*d) 
M-lio miis'd amid the mighty cataclyBm, 
O'er his rude tablets of primeval lore ; * 
And gathering round him, in tbe sacred ar, 
The mighty secrets of that former globe, 
Let not the living star of science^ sink 
Beneath the waters, which ingulph'd a world !!^* 
Of visions, by Ctilliope reveal'd 
To him ^, who trac'd upon his typic lyre 
The diapason of man*5 mingled frame, 
And the grand Doric heptachord of heaven. 
With oil of pure, of wondrous and arcane, 
Which the grave sons of Mochtis, many a night, 

of the dvlug'e^ and trantcnlt the leereti of aQtedltuTlai] know- 
ledge to Ids poiterlty. See the extracli made by Bayle, in 
hit article, Cba^cn, The Identity of Cham and Zoroajter de- 
pend* ypon the aulhorttj oT Beroiiii <or rather the Impoitor 
Annlui}, and a few more »uch respectable teailmonki. See 
Naude'f Apologie pour le« Grandt Homm^tr Sec. chap. vilU. 
where he istktA mure trouble than U noceiiar}' bi refuting thU 
gralultoui iuppobltiooK 

a CUaraum A poiterti hujui artli adrolralorlbiti Zaro- 
aatruskt **^ vivum ait rum, propterea futise dl<:tum et pro 
Deo habitum. ^ Bockart. Geograpk. Smt. lib. iv, cap. L 

« Orphput. ^ Fiiulinut, In bit HelidoiMde*, cnp.3, lib. ill. 
hiu endeavoured to ibow, alter tha PlatontiU, that m»n U s 
diapaton, or octJi re, made up of a dUte»»iTon, mhicb li hti 
soul, and a dlapente, which Li hli body. Tha«e freqitent atlu. 
tioni to muilc, by wbkb the ancient pb3]ci4oph«ri Ulujtrated 
tbeir jublEme tbeorlei, muit hai^e (4>ndril vary iDuvh to elevate 
the character of the art, and to enrich It with aaiocLatloni *f 
tbe gronJect and mo«t Interrftln^ nature. See a precedtnf 
note, for their Ideof u^ton the harmonf of the Apherei. He* 
raclltuf compared the tnixture of good and evil hi thi* world 
to the blended rarletiea of harmonj In a fnu4ical ioftrLunrnt 
(Flutorch. de Anlm« Procreat.), and Rurypbantui, tbe 
PythafToreon. to a ttMgamtt pnsMnrad by Stc4Mrus, de»critH>t 
btinian itfo, in Iti perfrctloii, at a ««e«t and well tuned lyre, 
Sumv of the anctoati w«re lo jknctfiil ai to luppoae that the 



i 



98 



MOOEE'S WORKS. 



Told to tbe jotiiig and bright-hair'd visitant 
Of CarmeVA sacred mounL < — Then, in a flow 
Of calmer converse^ he beguii'd its on 



D.I or the Ta«mory wen r«gukt>Hl by a kind: of muilical 
, «nd that IdcNU occurred t.t> It '* pi?r tinin ci Lbeilo^** 
white flUaen ctinrrrted the w]iui-1e»yin into mmete hwmonltMl 
marhtne, whote motion depFoded irpoD m nstttlB tensloQ of thn 
body, juMlofotu to ttiAl of tbe ttrlnj;* )n an iimmokent' Qoero 
toftMNl ridlruln Ar1»toirnu» Tor thli fiincy.sndi imyi," Let him 
tench iln^njf, und leave phHotophy to Aiiitotla j" bat Arli- 
totlehlmfcir ihmigh diMridedlj opposed to the bansoDlic ipc- 
eulatfooi of tho Fythafruri'Mi]* and Platociitt*, could tomctline* 
coodrtcrod to enliven hli doctiine* bj rerrnmw to the beau* 
Ui*t of oiuf Loil tcimce ; aa, in the tnatlae Htfi m^rpMt attri- 
bttled to hlro, K.«tf*cii* U u XH!^* « if i f t w a^n^^iimc, 
«. r. A. 

The Alib£ Batteut, fn hl» enqinrj Into ibe doctrine of the 
Sto(ct,aitrtbutc« to Ihote p1»[|oaopl)«ri' the aaroe mode of illua- 
trcti«a. *' L'Ame #tolt cai»(! art ire wt*utm4tm ; 1« cotpt cau»« 
4)i r«« ««r:t"* = — l'uii<* agitaaot dana I'autre; ct jr 
t, par toil artlon nitme, un caract^e, de« for met, dea 
modlAcationit quVUe n'avoli paa pax oUft-m^tme ; k p»u prj^t 
coimni" I'air, qui, chaM>6 daoi un Laitrumpnt An mutlqui^, fait 
cotiiiiu1ire» par lei dilKreni loni qu^il prodult, ki dlHerentct 
mndlllcatlotH qu'tl f rt^alt.'* &e« ft One lim lie founded upon 
tlili notion in Cardinal PoUj^iac't poem, lib. R. r.7^. 

* PytliaiEDrw 1* ref)re•eotl^d In lamblkhu* ai df^cendln^r 
witb gre«t ftotcianltT Arona Mount Carmet, for which rpaton 
tiM Cttrmetltiet kare elalmod him «• one of their fraternity. 
TbU Modiua or Moi^biu, with tli« deimtdaatt of whom 
P]rtlui|ona eonvcrtcd in ^ha^nJcia, sod fNnn whom b* do- 
rtwd th« doctrluei of atomic philoti>phy,Urappoted hf aoiCM 
to ba the ianie with Muwt. tliiett hat adopted tlilf Idea, 
Billion itrat Ion Eirang^Uque, Prtip. U. chap, 2. | 7- } and Le 
Clerc, asnongtl dther*, hai refuted it^ See BiUiloth, CboLtiei. 
ttrm. i p. 76. It la certain, iiotiever, that the dortrine of 
atom I waj known atid prciii]idgAti*d iofif ticfore Cplturui. 
" With the fountaioi of tJetnricrim*.'* m)» Cicero, "the ^ar- 
deti« of EpicuruA were watered ;" and the leaimed author of 
the Inteliectual SyAt«>m ha> fhovn. that ail the ear]iy philofto* 
pheri, till the time of Plato, were atumlitt. We fimi Epicuma, 
howerer, 1>oaatlng that bii teneti were new and nnboTirowed« 
and |M rltap4 few aiooof the oiirlt^iUi iiod aiij tironfer claim to 
nrljfHinllty Intruth, if wecKKmloc thf'lr ichooliof philo*ophy„ 
notwiU»tanding the peculiarlti«» which •eeni to di^tin^iih 
tiMiB from each other, wo may gancrally observe tlial the dlf- 
tatoot U but vetbal aiid triAlog ; and that, amonf tbcwe 
Mjiooa and learned herealiH, there it acarceljr ooe to be fo- 
lietid, vbow oplnlana art lt« own, orlglna] ajid exciutive. 
tine doctrltio of the world*! eternity may be traced through 
all the iccta. The conllnuai metempiychotli of Pytbaionu, 
lh« grand periodic year of the Stolca, (at the cooctuakm of 
which the universe |« ftuppo««<d to return tolta orij^inal order, 
aiid commencv a new revolution J the tuccetclve dlitoiutlon 
Wbl comblnaUoo of atom ■ maimtalovd by the Epicurtant — 
■II ihete tenets are but dUTerent ititiroationa of the faine 
general belief In the eternity of tho world. Ai nplaJned bj 
Hi, Auitln, tiM! prriodic year of the Stolci dlaagreei only ao 
5^*iih th« toloa «f the \*jxUn$on^t, that inatead of an md' 
^^ **««».,„ I, ,^,w nr the toul through a vartety of bodiea, U 

<.* . .** ^^ ...rkl *n HKn*at llijilr fttrmitr miiiut 



*ala, 4., 




twbltia r«e« t^„. 
«•'*!., *t id*r - •*"**' 



til to repeat thcLr former round 

• itlcal PtatOvwho lovturrd In the 

. iim and agftln, at certain inter- 

' '^•.rfdty, appear in the Mm* Academy 

i****.*?*^"^' •"* • — ••* oailem lempora 

It T,f. *lcut in i»to 



'^•'*'»» 'nuu.n .(, lia per Jftnume- 



•MifSS. 



Through many a maze of Gurden and of Porch, 
Through many a system, where tlie scattered light 
Of henTeaty truth lay, like d broken heam 

repelendl alnt. — Dr Cmtat. Dti, lib. xU. cap. 13 Vanlnl. In 
hij dlalogi»ea, hoi given U4 a lijioilar etpllcatkm of the pe- 
riodic revolutiona of the world '" EA de cauiA, qui nunc 
mnt in uiu rltui, rentlei mUllea ftierunC, totletque reoaaGen- 
tur quoti*^ eeckieruat/* b± 

The paradoxleal EKitlona of the Stoiea upon the Iteauty, the 
richei, tba doiDlnloii of their Imagiiiary tage, are among the 
moftt dfitt^ruifthlnt cbaracteriftk!* of tbetr achool, andt ae« 
cording tci their advocate Lipelui* were peculiar to thai eect. 
*' Friora ilia (dftcretJi) qua paaatia to phUoaophuMitnn adMlli 
ferd otntioent, iiU qii« peculiaxta bulc «ectr et halrent eoO'* 
tradictkmena : i.e. paradoxa/' — AfaAH^/iir^ nd Sio*f-. PkOoi. 
lib lit. dl**erUt. t. But tt It evident (ai the Ahb« GartiJer 
hai remarked, ftUnwIraa de I' Acad. torn, xxsv.) tliM even 
thete abiurdltlei of the Stolct are borrowed* and thai Plato 
U the lource of all their extravagant paradoxes. We And 
their dogma, '^difcf qui uplen»,'M«h1ch Cli'ment of Alex- 
andria lia« traniferred from the Philo*Qf>ticr to the Chrliti4n, 
Pwdagog. lib- iil^cap. 6.) expre««ed In the prayer of Sorratea 
at the end of the Ph«dru«, Q |«A4 II«t n sm aAAm irw n^l 
^%u, dwwvi ju*r *uXm YitAtr^mt rmritfiw rmimStt it irm i^i** 
wms ivr*r titmt ft*f ^Xim' 'VXcttrtH 9< r»j(u^*tpu vit raft*. And 
many otl>er hittancca might be adduced fk^mi the Atn^mrrm, 
the UtXiftmH. Ac. to prove that tbeae weed* of paradox were 
an gftthiTcd amoTig the bovCTl of the Academy. Hence It l« 
that Cicero, in the prefkoe to hti Paradoxet. calli tlu»m So. 
cratica ; and Llpilux, exulting In the patrooace of Socralei^ 
uyi," Ule to(u« est notter." Thij \» Indeed a coalition, which 
etiacea ae laucb ju can be wL»hcd the confuted •Imilttudeof 
■ndenl pUlcwDplileal opinioni t the father of iceptldtm i* 
hei« enrolled ajoonftt the foupdcrt of th*" Portko \ he, whu«« 
beat knowledge waa that of hit own Igoormcei U called in to 
autharlte the proteniioni of the most otwtlnate dogmailtta in 
all ontlqujty. 

Rutillui, in bli lUoerarlum. hai ridiculed the tablijitri <*f 
the Jew*, at " laiiwtl molUi imago Del \ '' but Eplcunii g^^ r> 
an eternal holiday to hia goils, and, ralher than dijturt> thv^ 
»)umbeTt of Olympu*, denied at once the inlcrfert-nce of a 
Providence. He doea not, however, ao«m to have buen iln- 
guiar in thla opinion* Theophllut of Antlocb, If hedeaerve 
any credit, Impotea a atmliar bciief to Pythagoraa : — fi^rr 
(nyimy*fmt) n vw» WKtrwv .^tMiir titifmwtn ftmiu ffMrnCliit. 
And Plutarch, thotiglt ao hEUtlle to the fuilowcra of Eplcurui, 
haa unaccaimtablj adopted the very same theological error. 
Thus, alter quoting the oploioua ^^if Anaxagora« and Plato 
upon djrinlty^ he adda, Kei»wr mm «,a«fT«t«t>n* atft^rn^v, irt 
Ttw ^*t i^-Mfinat tyjrrtig«#<i u*t ttn mtt^Mwirm. — iJrf Ptaeit. Fki- 
iotopk. lib. 1. cap. 7. Plato himielf haa attrlhtited a degree of 
Indifliprence to the goda, which ia not far removed from the 
apathy of Kplcurua*» heaven : a* thua, in hl« PbllvLou, where 
Ptotarchiia aika^ Ovttmn um*s y% mtrt ):«'<>» SUmtt, m,^ v* 
ttwvwf ; and Socratea antwora, Umtv fur •» «l»k. m^x^M** 
>«vi mtrfmn f«4r<f** ^ry*tm»t* trfJt ; — while Arletotle tiiii- 
poaet a atiU more abaurd neutrality, and concludca, hf no very 
fiallerlag analogy, that tha deity ia aa iocap^le of virtue aa 
of rice. Hmt ymf ahnrif mihr ^^tftm/ irvr a Aa*«^ m^* *f i*^t ^ *^<** 
mIi ^%m. — Ethic. Siet/mi^ch. Ilb.vtl. cap. 1. la truth. Arlt- 
totle, upon tlio«Bli|eet of Provldcntce. waa little more correct 
than BplftinUi. He aup(i>u«^d thr wtwn tn ite the limit of 
divine InterfWrcitee, evrludiog nrcourie tUi« tuhlvinary world 
from Ita inHurfvnce. The ilrat defioitiun of tlie world, lu hia 
treatiae Ilifi tL*ff^v (If thia (rentlae be really the work of 
Ariatotle), agreea. iilmoat verbum verho, with that in the letter 
of Epicurua to Pythnt tat i «nd both emit the iMBtkm of ft 
deity, tn hia P.thlca, too, be intlmalae ft doubt wbdhiv the 
foda (eel any llilereal !■ the conewrna of maiiynd.- R ym^ 
f«f irf<ri*'f eaw m»9^mm\m iee jl^iei* ytntmt. It la true, be 
add* 4e«H >«■*<* ^'^ ^*° ^^^ ^ ^*^^ •cepttcaL 




JUVENILE POEMS, 



99 



■dh, wliich, tboo^ refracted all 
I hues, 11 fonihiiie still, ^ 
i tbrooglk every cluuige I — he ipoke of 
IfiflW 

me 9, etenal One^ who dwellt above, 
Aad of the tooTB imtneeable defccsl 
VromL tiuft high fount d apiiit, thraiigh the 



I 




Of imelleetiial hetag, till it mix 

Willi ittOMM vvae, corruptiblcf, and dark ; 



of Ariitot1«» we tr«ce tb« 

«f tlut fpoeral nqlecl wMrh hU pfi llocophy ejiperl«iiccd 

■> ita* Mily ChrlflUiiit. Plato U telilani much ttore 

^m. lilt olMeuN MithtulAJEm of bU «(; le allowed 

all bU fbiMHi«« to their own porpofe. 

wmt eailly moukled, and PlAlonUin bccama 

da o# tbc fathera. 

of tbe Stoics. K iraunlfld In their acboot, 
«■■ a yoiiT aa mutem ptlblj ioeAciirat aa the real. All wai 
iiiB la tibaTflfiCnii of th« Portico. The chaina ot dettlnjr were 
ttawwii o««r loplCer hhsaelf^ and tbelr ddty wu lik« the 
Bav«teorKtecFl|nmiBfltiit,''elCwar«lnllifl.** Notcrcn 
fte lan^we of Smmc* cui recondk thla dKgndatkm of dl- 
9M|f - * Dl* iv»* onmluiB coodltor ac rector certfalt qiiJdea 
faa^ 0i4 aaqnitur; atmper pant, aetiutl Jtiaalt." h^ZtiBi. ^ 
■, cap. ». 

lo the dlJfef«oc« batweeo tlie Stoici, Pcrlpa' 
i, the following word* of Ckero prore 
Ik miw toot Iktle to dljtlniultb them frutn etch other : ^ 
et Acadttmleoi, namlnlbuB dUATnmtaa, re cod- 
t a fiulboa Sulci it»t verbla mafta <iuain lentimtiij 
aadiowcc. lib* 11. ft. ; and perhaps what Held 
oovof Iheir pointi of coDtroreri; rolfhC 
to the WMJoncMement oC all ihe rett. 
*■ TiM dIapQta batw a en the Stoka and Peripatcticf woa pro- 
iMbljf all for want of JeAnltioD. The one »aid they wet «i good 
oidMr tfto omtrol of reaaoa* tbe other ittat thejr ihouJd be 
r, rot, iii. In ihort, it apipeari a no le*« 
to catabtifh the bouodarief a( uplnion betwenn 
^if two of tb« plillofophical lecti. than U would be to 6 1 the 
of thoae cstarea In ifao moon, whir4i Riccioliu so 
allotted to bU brother aatroaomen. Accordingly 
•ome of the greate«t fn«o of antiquiijr pajilog 
le (tarn school to tchool^ acconlini to the fancy 
of thtf iDcxnvat. Cicero, the father of Homao 
, la aotBctiiiMa an Acedemlciaa, lonietlmei n Stoic ; 
•ad. mam tban oooe, he aduioirtedgea a conformtty with 
Bpleaiva ; " voa ilae caoaa Igilur Cplcuriu au«ut ect dkere 
MH^er te plUflbiia boola ««*» laplentem, quia lemper kit in 
fOlniitoiteag/* -^TViam^aw. Quttit. lib, v . Tb uu jgh o (ten pu re 
la bJla thaotoKyp Cicero aometimiis tmllei at l^turity a* a fie- 
tli«( Ibua, In hii Oration for Cluentlui^ vpeaklng of punifh- 
In the life to coiae, be «ay», ** Quw ■! falui f unt, id quod 
Intelllfront, quid rl taodcni aHad niori crlpuit, prwter 
doluria ? *' — though here wa ihould, pcrhapi, do hlin 
bf afredfiir with hirt oonuirtentator Sfklui, who 
ihia pauaire, *' Utfic autem dixit. uL caui« «uk 
THc poet Horace roves tike a btitterJSy throuj^h 
the iictooola,eaid tsam wingi along tbe walli of tbe Porch, nnw 
aaonf thir flower* ol the Garden ; wIiM« Virgil, with a 
of VBlfld iCrongly phlloaofibkal. hat yet left ui wholly 
■• to the t«ct which ba «ipo«ued. The balance of 
him to hava been an Eplcarean, but the 
author ol hU life aiterta that he wai an Ac4*dcmlcLati ; 
and we traee through hit poetry the t«netf of almott all th« 
aeeta. The aame kJtid of eclectic indlflToreQce It oh- 
la moat of the Kornan wHtcri. Thu* Properttus, In 
tbe ftnr elegy to CyDthla, on hh departure for Atb vni , 





_ 



Nor fit even then, tbou^ fuok in earthly dross, 
Corruiited all, oor ita etherial touch 
Quite lost, but tastiDg of the iboiiCaiii still. 
As tome bright river, which has roU*d along 
Through meada of flowery light and mities of 

gold, 
When [»iir*d at length into the dusky deep, 
Disdaiits to take at once iu briny taint. 
But keeps unchanged avhilv the lustroas tinge. 
Or balmy freshness, of the scenes it left. > 



fllic Tfl fttudiit anliBUm cmendaiw Plaioiila* 
Incipiam, aut hortii, docto EplenrB, titii. 

Ub. UK Klec.ll. 
Ttiougti Broeckliiithai bere reoda, ** dux Epicure/' which 
•eenia to fli the post ooder the bannen of Epicuru*. Ereo 
the Stole Scoaea, wlioae doctrine* have been coiuldcred to 
orthodox, thai St Jerome hai ranked him afnotigit the eccle> 
■tactical writer! , wlille Boccaccio daubti (in oontlderatloQ of 
hia Auppoied cnrrespondence witki St. Fuil) whether Dante 
■houid have placed bloi In Limbo wltli the reft of the Pagana 
— rveii the rigid Seocca hat bestowed *uch cosiaiendatiooa 
oa EpicuFoa, that if only Ummo pajisag<^t of hi* works were 
pmarved to ua, we could not hesitate, I thlok. In prooounclng 
hliD a confirmed Epicurpan. With rimitar IncooslxteDcy. we 
Bad Porphyry, In his work upon abstinence, referring to 
Epkurua as an example of the most strkt Fythagoreajn tcm,- 
perauce i and LanceloLtl (the author of " Farfallunl degli 
anticl litorlci") baa been seduced by this grave reputaUim of 
Epicumi Into the absurd error of asioclating him with Chrj. 
iippus. as a chief of the Slotc 'school. There Is no doubts 
Indeed, thoJL however the Epleureaci sect might hate relaxed 
from its original purity, the morals of it* founder were aa 
correct as those of any among the ancient pfailosaphers ; and 
his doctrines upon pleasure, as explained in the letter to 
HentBceua, are rational, amiable, and coniutenl with our 
nature. A lata writer, De Smbicini, in hit Grandi llnmmes 
veog§s, expresses strong iudlg7ia.tJc»n agnioj^t the Encyclo* 
pldistcs for thek just and animated praU^^s of Epicurus, and 
discussing the question, '* tl re phllosopbe Ho\t verlueux," 
denies it upon no other nuLliorlty than the calumnies rollerted 
by Flutarch, who bimself confesses that, on this particular 
subject, he consulted only opinion and report, without iiausing 
to investigute theUrfruth.— AAA* t^ A»^*'. tit r^w ttXn9imt 
rmtrtttfitt. To ihc Cactiout sfol of bin IllibPriti rivals, the 
Stoics. Epicurus chiefly owed these grois misreprcsentaiLlant 
of tbe life and opinions of hiinself and his associates, whieh, 
nocwithstanding tbe learued exertions of Gassendl, have itlll 
left an odium on tine name ol his philosophy ; and we ought 
to ex4mlne the ancient accounts of thfi philosopher with 
about the same degree of cautious belief which, in reading 
ecdeslastkeal history » we yidd to tbe invectives of the fathers 
■faliktt tba beretka*— trusting as little to Plutarch upon a 
dogma of Epteoma. ai ve would to the vehement St. Cyrii 
upon a tenet of If aitortus . ( ]^ ^ IJ 

The preceding renuurks, I wish the reader to oi>sen'e, were 
wrlttri\ at a time, when I thought the studies to which they 
refer much naorp important as well as more amusing thaUt I 
freely cunfess. Lhey appi'or to me at present. 

1 Loctantlus asserts lh<it ail the truths of Christianity may 
be found dlsperifd through the ancient philosopbiciLl sects, 
and that any one w hf> wi»uiii coiloct these scan errd fraumt'ots 
of orthodoxy might form a code In i» respe^'t differing from 
that of the Chrittixm. *' SI extittiset allquii. qui verltatem 
•parsam per itn;;uio< per secla«|ue diOUsam colllgeret In 
unum, ac redigerH, In corpus. Is profi-cio non dlsscntlret a 
noWs-" — /us/, Uu. vl. c. 7. 

• Ts ^tflf mm* (fRM4*^» 

^ Tills bold Platuidc Image t have taken drooia petgagetn 



^j|,h 



100 



MOURE'S WORKS. 



i 



And here the old man ceased — ft wing^ train 
Of nymphs and genii bore him from our eyes. 
The fair illusion fled ! and, a» I wak'd, 
*Twas clear that my npt soul had roam*d the while, 
To that bright realm of dreams, that spirit* world. 
Which mortals know by its long track of light 
0*er midnighfa tky, and cal the Galaxy, ^ 



MRS. 



To see thee every day that came, 
And find thee still each day the fame; 
In plea9are*s smile, or Borrow ^s tear 
To me still e?er kind and dearj — 
To meet thee early, leave thee latei, 
fla» been so long my blisa, my Ihte, 
That lifi-s without this cheering ray, 
>^1iich came, like sanshine^ every day» 
And all my patn, my sorrow chaa'd, 
Is now a kme and loveless waste. 

Where are the chords she us*d to touch ? 
The airs, the iongi she loT*d so much ? 
Thoee songs are hush'd, those chords are still, 
And so, perhaps, will every thrill 
Of feeling soon be tuird to rest, 
Which tate I wak'd in Annans breaat 
Yet, no — the simple notes I play'd 
From memory's tablet soon may fade ; 
The songs, which Anna lor*d to hear, 
May vanish from her heart and ear j 
But friendfihip'f voice shall ever find 
An echo in that gentle mind, 
Nor memory loae nor time impair 
The sympathiea that tremble there. 



LADY HEATHCOTE, 



OLD KDSQ WOUVT> AT TCTKDBIDOE- WELLS. 



oit i Is mia}« dUtxnee de Loodret, que 
rontsinalitima 1^1 d« Paris. Ce iju'il jr a da beau il d« ga- 
lant dani t'un «C dani 1'autre w&e i'jr ruMmble an Umi dei 
MU 1- La eutn p«fiil«," Stirkt. 

a^ Mtmoiret 4i Qr»mmtmi^ Bwood Part,cha|i. lU. 

_ Tuabridf* Walk. 

I Whkw Oranunont grac'd these happy tpnngt, 
And Tonbridge saw, upon her F^til«B« 

Fatliar Boucliat** kctar upon tha MsCiHpsyehoilt, InssrlMd 
In Flc«rt*i Cirftn. Il«llf . Vom k. 
I Aeeordhii to Pithayoraa, tlitf ytaapU M Draaau ata loalt 



/ 



The merriest wight of all the kings 
That ever rul'd these gay, gallant isles ; 

Like us, by day, they rode, they walk'd. 
At eve, they did as we may do. 

And Grammont Just like 8pencer talked. 
And lovely Stewart vw^A tike yotu 

The only different trait is this, 

That woman then, if man beset her, 

Was rather given to gaying *♦ yes,** I 

Because, — as yet, she knew no better. 

Each night they held a coterie, 

Where, every fear to slumber charm'd. 

Lovers were all they ought to be, 
And husbands not the least alarm'd 

Then caird they up their school*day pranks. 
Nor thought it much their sense beneath 

To play at riddles^ ()uip.% and craaks, 
And lords show'd wit. and ladies teetlL 

As — ** Why are husbands like the mint?*' 
Because, forsooth^ a husband's duty 

Is but to set the name and print 
That g^ve a currency to beauty. 

" ^Miy is a rose in nettles hid 

" Like a young widow, fresh and fair? *' 
Because ^is sighing to be rid 

Of wtcdsf that " have no business there 1 " 



And thus they miss*d and thus they hit. 
And now they struck and now they parried ; 

And some laid in of full grown wit. 
While others of a pun miscarried. 

*Tw]is one of those facetious nights 
That Grammont gave this forfeit ring 

For breaking grave conundrum-riCea, 
Or punning ill, or — some stich thing ! — 

From whence it can be fairly trao'd. 
Through many a branch and many a bough, 

From twig to twig, until it grac'd 
Tlie snowy hand that wears it ncrw. 

All this 1*11 prove, and then, to yon. 
Oh Tunbridge ! and jour springs irtmical^ 

I swear by Heathcote*s eye of blue 
To dedicate the important chronich!. 



cdlaelad taavtiwr la tHa Galaxf.— Am«« h m%i^, whs 



JUVENILE POEMS. 



101 



Ijon^ mMj joar iJicient inmates give 
Tbnr mantles to joor modem lodgers. 

And Chnxics*f tores in Hemthcote live, 
Ajid Charleses bards reriTe in Rogers. 

I^t iM> pedantic fools be tbere ; 

For ever be these fbps aboUsh'd, 
WUli beads la wooden u tb j ware. 

And, HeaTen knows I not half so polish'd* 

Bat ftiin receive the youngs the gay. 
The few who know the rare deiight 

Of reading Grammont every day. 
And acting Gnunmont every night. 



THE DEVIL AMONG THE SCHOLARS, 

a FRAGMENT* 

Ti MUM « r*>m ; 

CeaiMMrr* BamiL in EpisL ad Bebtttoi. 

• • • 

Bmr, wiiither have these gentle oseSf 
These rosy nymphs and black -eyed nnns, 
With all of Copid^s wild romancing. 
Led my troant brains a dancing ? 
In^ead of studying tomes scholastic, 
Ecdesiastic, or monastic. 
Off I fly, careering fax 
In chase of Pollys, prettier far 
Than any of their namesakes are^-^ 
The Polymaths and Polyhifltora, 
Polyglots and all their sifters. 

I ICxmnfra, a dofmaik phlJotoptif^r, who never doubled 
t anj tUna. «se«pC »b« w%» hit Ctth<<T." — " Nulli de re 
pneief)|iiaiB dc fmXn dubJuvit." — /n J'tt, Hf iriu 
nad— ** UhMmu, (Uut Jt, lo hit h*^ when it woi 
V} i» PaaKoe henita le Pcr»an» THcbreu cliMjue 
TAnlilqac, pour n« point parlar M H mAavaSse iotelllfeiice 
<■ IdStlii am le CSfttC,*' ^c.^Se^L'Hiftotre de Mtmimanr, 

* BomtMctiu wa« one of the nainet of thAt f rent tchoUr 
and quack l^trau^tu.-'** Philipput Bombutut latet tub 
•pkfkdldiO t«rinlD? AureolJ Theophnutl rarac«!ii/' *uj* SU- 
dNlva d* drcumrofAnei LiieraCoruin vuiitAte. ~He ujcd to 
•flM tlMi davU every ni^ht with a bto«lA«rordl, to ttie no 

r of hi» piipll Oporinus, who hai recorded the cIt- 
( Vide Oporin. Vlt. apud Cbriiti^D, Girpb. Vlt. 
KTuditlietmarfim, Ac.) PararcUui had 
iMrt a poor opfnloa of Galen :< — '* Mf very beard (lajft he in 
kit Parf iiiiuM ) ha* m«re learoiiig In It than either Geleii 
or AvtoBBna." 

* The atifel, who tcolded St, Jerom for re^iaig Cicefct, ai 
Gratlan tella ttoe itory In bli " Ctmcordnntia dJicordoDtlaTn 

I MAfi, th»t for tbli fpwoti blihojj* were bol 
1 to rrad the Clai«ir« t ** Rpticoptu GentUium libroi 



So have I known a bopefbl youth 
Sit down in quest of lore and tmthf 
^Vich tomes sulficient to confound him, 
Like Tobu Bohu, heap'd around him, — 
Mamnm > slnck to Theophrmstna^ 
And Galen tumbling o*er Bombastns. ^ 
When lo I white all that's leam'd and wise 
Absorbs the boy, he lilts his eyes, 
And through the window of his study 
Beholds some damsel fiiir and ruddy, 
With eyes, as brighdy tum'd upon bim as 
The imgera ^ were on Kieronymua. 
Quick fly the folios, widely scattered, 
Old Homer's lanrel'd brow is batter'dt 
And Sapphov headlong sent^ fiies just in 
The reverend eye of St Au^ustin. 
Raptured he quits each dozing sage, 
Oh woQian, for thy lovelier page : 
Sweet book! — unlike the books of art, — 
Wht»e errors are thy fairest part ; 
In whom the dear errata column 
Is the best page in aU the volume t^ 

But to begin my sobject rhyme — 
'Twas jtLSt about this devilish time. 
When scarce there happen 'd any frolics 
That were not doue by Diabolics, 
A cold and lovelcas son of Lucifer, 
Who woman scom'd, nor saw the use of her, 
A branch of Dogon's family, 
(Which Dagon, whether He or She, 
Is a dispute that vastly belter is 
RefptrM to Scaliger ^ et ciiferis^) 
Finding that, in this cage of foola. 
The wisest sots adorn the schools. 
Took it at once bis head Satanic in, 
To grow a great scholastic manikin, ^^ 



rwati Iffal." — Diitmct. S7* Bnt Gratlan ia motoriotii Tor lying' 
— be»ldet. angcU. ni the Itluitrtoui pttjifl of Panlenui atturcw 
uft, bare got do tonguei* Ovx' if m/t*r *» trnt, *or*K tMU944s 

ami. Stromat. 

* The Idea of the Rjiij-ltirn^reipecling ihp origin of womnn, 
Ij not 1 little ilngulAr. Thej thtiik that man wiis orlfrhuUly 
foi-med with a tall» lUte a monkey, but that the DeUy cut off 
tb^i tppendage, uid made woman of lt« Upon thU entra- 
ordliiu7 ntppotltloa the rollowing n^JliHrtioii li feninded: — 

U >ueb Ij the tic between women vad men, 

The olnnf who wedi !■ a pitlfal cN, 
F«r he takei to bU Ull like an IdJot a<«ln. 

And thm makea a deplorable ape of hJmielf. 
Vet, if we niiijludgeas tbo faihloDi prersil, 

Erery hujband remerobcrt tb' orlglDal plan, 
And, knowing hli wlft^ it no mure than hU tutU 

Wbj he-^ioavei her twhlnd blm ai cnurh m birciin. 

* ScaJig^T . de Emendate Tempor. -* Dagoa wai thought by 
othert to he a certain lea-moiuteT, who came everr day out 
of the Red S«i to teach the Sfriani htutMndrj , -. See Jacqui^t 
GaOhrel (Curioittfi InociiBiY du|^ I.), who tayt be tbliiki 




1 









I 




102 MOURE'S WORKS. 


n 


A doctor, quite as learned and fioe aa 


And find, by Euclid's oorollarin. 




Sc'otus John or Tom Aquioas ', 


The ratios of a jig or aria. 






Lully, Hales Irrefragabilw, 


But, as for all your warbling Delias, 


^ 




Or any doclor of the rabble is. 


Orpheuses and Saint Cecillas, 


■ 




lo languages ^, the Polyglot^;, 


He own'd he ibuught them niach surpassed 


■ 




Compared to bitn, were Bab<?l sots ; 


By that redoubted Hyaioclast* 


■ 




He chatterM more than ever Jew did. 


Who still contrived by dint of throttle, 


■ 




Sanhedriin and Priest included ;*— 


Where'er he went to crack a boltle. 


■ 




Priest and holy Sanhedrim 




■ 




Were one-and'Serenty fools to him. 


Like w isc to show bla mighty kn o wledge, be^ 


■ 




But chief the learned demon felt a 


Ou tilings unknown in pbysicjlogy, 


^ 




Zeal ao strong for gamma, delta. 


Wrote many a chapter to divert ua. 






That, all for Greek and learning's glory, * 


(Like that great Utile man Albertus,) 






lie nightly tippled **Gra!co mor^,'* 


Wliercin he show'd the reason why, 






And never paid a bill or balance 


When children first are beard to cry. 






Except upon the Grecian Kalends i — 


If boy the baby cliane« to be. 






From whence your scholars, when they want tick, 


He cries O A ! - if girl, E 1 — 






Say, to be ^ftic*8 to be <j« tick, 


Which are, quoth he, exceeding fair hints 






In logics he was quite Ho Punu ; * 


Respecting their first sinful parents ; 






Knew as much as cTer man knew. 


" Oh Eve! *• exdaimeth little maditm, 






He fought the combat syllogistic 


While little master cries " Oh Adaml"« 






With lo much skill and art eristic. 








That tliough yon were the leam*dStagifite, 


But 'twas in Optica and Dloptric-s, 






At once upon the hip he had you rigbt. 


Our d£Dniou play'd his first and top tricks. 






In music, though he had no ears 


He held that sunshine passes quicker 


^ 




Except for that amongst the spheres. 


Throngli wine than any other liquof j 


■ 




(Which mcwc of all, as he averr'd it. 


And though he saw no great objection 


■ 




He dearly loved, *caiise no one heard it,) 


To steady light and clear reflection. 


■ 




Yet afrt^ly he, at sight, eouJd read 


He tbongbt the aberrating rays. 


^ 




Each tuneful diagram in Bede, 




J 




Ihl* itory of the MM^moofter " carrlek tittle ihow of ptolw- 


tpee<-h Attributed to Arrarilua ; but vary UQJUiUy :^-fur, flur 


■ 




blllty wfUi It.'* 


rkTjm aikr^rtlng tbat Grtvk could not b« n»d. that worth; jti. 






> 1 wUh tt wen kaown with mnj degree of certaiutj wbethcr 


rb-coDtult upon the Law fi. D. d« Booor. Po««eia »xpr<»»iljf 








ta)r«. •• Gntcm UU<r« pouvmi ivkeWi^ K logl." < Vtdv Not. 






b» rmlly tb« tworlt of thli Ai»fellc Doctor. Tb«rc w tvmr 


Ubror. Rarfor. CoUe<:tloD. Fa4«ic. iV.)-.SclpiD Canaroma- 






bold snertloti* h«util«d in It : fur iiitUncr, he wajt that PUto 


cbui mem* lo hava b««a ol opialoo thai ttwa U no saliraUoB 








out of tb« paleof Gratk Litcraltifo s •* Via prioia sabitia GnUA 






watSTery iMMUtilul tromAti whom ioni<!> of Arittotlt*! pufttti 








Ml lo lov wiib:— " Akfb(*d(M muller fult fmldwrriraa. 


caoiKiC b« luSeteoUy adairad, wImo ho oaborta Ilia eouotrx- 








men. " per Rladam Cliriatl, par aslolaai patrl*, par relpubtlc« 






tag Adpnwmt, Litttt«r^ sn S6. torn. L 








• Tlic follu«in« coai|tlhneat wu paKI to Lsur«tiUai ValU, 


must we forgH PhaTortnua, tbo asoellent Blfhop of Koeons, 






tipuii bU a«(yr«l« 1koowti«dfe of the LoUo Uoffua^ :« 


raqolrad no farther euJoflum on bli tocnb than ** Hen llMb « 








Qnek LealcogTapbcr." 






JJ«i« •mM Piulo yrrba LaUiw IwjuK 


* '0 wmw Tbe Introdvction of tbtt tanguafa Into Enf Kib 






glue* V«l srrlvM in Pluta^i »liade. 








Hii iHMtiii mhI ptriHiouni all m paC Ln, 
Plato hlmadr irould be afniiit 




^ 




To My hia soolV bit own, tn Latta I 


tlM sndoDta, may aarra ai a laodal i-* 


■ 




Sm fbr tiMio llMS cha ** Aadoraio C«iwk» *' of Da Vvrttar 


A|m» ab WMtria la-iliwis aiaa ttaiyii^«4#. 






(!»••».). 




1 






wUh many an es^uUlte mortal from tbo Lexicon Uls 


^^J 




Ilia talanu for r^rombii, thouM jH \» viilgar «aoat^ to 


**cb^r* KDteleclite/* In sddfMtloi hi* mlatnas, can oo^ too 


^^fl 




laocb at Caiiitfrttritu fof wrUInf lo bim In Orrak, ** Master i 




^^H 






> OrGlaia-Dn.>alt«r— MorboAui hat gitoo Ml •eooosil aT 


^^H 




mA hM Siau writlen nia two taltirrt in Groali. Aa aoon m 1 




^^1 








^^H 




iMy bara tba i^aatura of rmUat vliat Iw dosa oe« llllAir- 




^^H 




MJuid/' Ormm tittit, last iiOB jMIWH.** Is tlis IgBomil 


i«mils,*e. 


m 






J 


i 



JUVENILE POEMS. 



108 



Wcf« Ifj the doeton look'd, in commoo, on. 

As a mora nrc and ridi phenomenoo. 

He wMdy Mid diat Om •eiMorinm 

li fiir tlM cj«t a great emporium. 

To wUeh tbeae noted pielnre-ftealcn 

Send an tliej can and meet with dealeiB. 

In many an optical ptoeeeding 

The bnin, he mid, ihow*d great good-teecding 

For inaranfy, when we og^ women 

(A trick which Barhara tutored hhn in), 

AbboBC^ the dean are apt to get in a 



Tctinrtandy 
Dojhaet 



the modeet hndn 
on their lege again ! > 



Oar doelor thn% with ^ etalTd eoiBcieney'* 
Of an oamigenoas omnieeiencj. 
Began (aa who woald not begin 
That had, like him, ao mneh within ?) 
To let it oat in hooks of an eorte, 
Fotios, qasrtos, Isige and aoaU eorts ; 




,^ MkoTtlMJadgmcntibj which, 

dfaif IIm inv«nioa oC the tanafe upon the redaa, 
' - oCthe dbiett to eooTejed to the len- 



I beUere *« the Derfl 

beteehidsd. T«t Leibotts found out the ums 

ihwwlhlllty, wbco ho wm aiipolnted Mcretary to a 

at Nnnmberf, chiefly for hto taigennity 

laeriMttrtleal letter, not one word of which either 

iWmuWfwi'" T"" SeetbeBloseHtotoriquede 



Poems, io Terj deep and eensiUe 

That thej were quite incomprehensible* 

Proee, which bad been at learabig's Fsir, 

And bought ap sll the trunpery there. 

The tstter*d rsgi of ererj Tcet, 

In which the Greeks and Romans drest. 

And o*er her figure swollen and antic 

Scattered them all with airs io frantic. 

That thoie, who law what fits she had. 

Declared unhappy Proee was mad! 

Epics he wrote and scores of rebusses. 

All as neat as old Tumebas*s ; 

Eggs and altars, cyclopedias. 

Grammars, prayer-books — oh I 'twere tedious. 

Did I but teU the half; to follow me : 

Not the scribbling bard of Ptolemy, 

No — nor the hoaiy Trismegistus, 

(Whose writings ail, thank heaTen I have miss'dus,) 

E*er fiird with lumber such a wareroom 

As this great ** porcus literarum !" 



M. de LeOmits. I'Burope SeTaote.— People In all afea hare 
lored to be possled. We And Cicero thanUag Attkot flbr 
haTing tent hhn a work of SerqiioQ ** ex quo (laye he) qoldem 
ego (quod Inter not Uoeat dioere) adHerimam parten tIx Iii- 
teOlgo.*' Lib. U. epUC. 4. And we know that ATlecnna. the 
learned Arabian, read Artototle't MetaphyilGt tetytiBee over 
for the mere pleatare of being able to inform the world that 
he could not comprdiend one pliable tiuroaghoat ttiem. 
(Nlcolai Mama ia Vit. Avioen.) 



104 



MOORE*S WORKS. 



POEMS RELATING TO AMERICA. 



FRANCIS, EARL OF MOIHA, 
OBNRitJiLL fM ma MAJBttnr'ii fvKCK*. uastkh-oimihal op 

mit Otttftt Allot, COIfJiTAVtX or TRK TOWKm ITO. 

My Lord, 

It U impofisibk to think of addressing a 
De<iicatkm (o yotir Ijordship without calling to 
mind the well-known reply of the Spairtao to a 
rhetorician, who proposed to pronounce aa ea* 
logiiini on Hercules, " On Hercules i " raid the 
hont^t Spartan, " who ever thong^lit of hlaniing 
Hercules ? ** In a similar manner the concurrence 
of public opinioQ haa kft to the panegyrist of your 
Jxirclship a verj' Buperfluoiis task. I elmlU there- 
fore, he ailent on the subject, and merely entreat 
your indulgeoce to the very humble tribute of 
gratitude which I have here the honotir to pre- 
sent. 

I am, my l^rd. 

With every feeling of attachment 
and respect, 
Your Lordship's very devoted Servant, 

THOMAS MOORE. 
97. Bmrp Street, St. Jttmn^M, 



PREFACE! 

Tbs principal poema in the following eotlectlou 
were written during an abience of fourteen months 
iViom Europe, Though curioifity was certainly not 
the motive of my voyage to America, yet it happened 
Umt tbe gratification of eariofiity was the only ad- 
vantage which I derived from it. Finding my^ 
aclf in the country of a new pe4>pk\ whose infancy 
had promised m much, and whose progress to 
maturity baa been an ol^ect of sueb interesting 
I detemuDed to employ the short 



period of time, which my plan of return to 
Earope afforded me, in travelling through u few 
of the States, and acquiring some knowledge of 
the inhabitants. 

The impression which my mind received from 
tbe character and manners of these republieuns, 
Miggested the Epistles which are written frum the 
city of Washington and Lake Erie. < How far I 
wat right, to thus assuming the tone of a satiriGt 
agaimt a people whom I viewed but as a stranger 
and a Tislter, is a doubt which my feelings did 
not allow me time to investigate. Alt I presume 
to answer for is the fidelity of the picture wliieb 
[ have given ; and though prudence might have 
dictated gentler languuge, truth, I think, would 
have justified severtT* 

] went to America with prepocsesaiont by no 
means unfavourable, and iindeed rather indulged 
in many of those illusive ideas, with respect to the 
purity of the gtivemment and the primitive happi* 
nes^ of the people, which I had early imbibed in 
my native country, where, ynfortunately, discon- 
tent at home enhances every distant temptation, and 
the western world has long been looked to as a re- 
treat from real or imaginary oppression ; as, in 
short, the elysian Atlantis, where persecuted patriota 
might find their visions realised, and be welcomed 
by kindred spirits to liberty and repose. In all 
tbeie flattering expectations I found myself com- 
pletely disappointed, and felt inclined to say to 
America, aa Horace says to his mistresf, " in- 
tentata nites," Brissot, in the preface to his travels, 
observea, that " freedom in that country is carried 
to so high a degree as to border upon a state of 
nature ; '" and there certainly is a close approx- 
imation to savage life, not only in the lilH?r<y 
wliich they enjoy, but in the violence of parly 
spirit and of private animosity which results from 
it. This illiberal seal itnbittcrs all social inter- 
conrse ; and, though I scarcely could hesitate in 
selecting the party, whose views appeared to me 
the more pore and rational, yet 1 was sorry to ob- 



< TliU Vttimc^t mB «rell s« ttke Dvdtealion which pf«c«dn ft, 
mmrt pnHlv<«i or itlnsUy l« tjM nlsoaUsiMOQs vctun* «iiliti4«l 



" OdM and Eplitlei," of whfcli. hitherto, 1 
to tnjr Amcrkaui toiir hmiti» lbrm««t « p<irt. 
t Bplitki VI. Vli.snd Vtll. 



rrlstinf 




POEMS RELATXNO TO AAffiRICA- 



105 



f 



•erve that, in ■Meniiig their opimoDSv they both 
aamuam an eqnil uhmre of intolonmcc ; the Demo- 
erais, eoiii]itent]7 with their principles, exhlbi ting 
a -mLgarity of nooooTp which the Fedenliati too 
ofieii are lo Ibrgetful of their cause u to Imitale. 

The rode fiimiUarity of the lower orders* sod 
rMtditeA the unpolished state of society in general, 
wpiild neither surprise nor ditgust if they nn^med 
t> flow fhiin that simplicity of character, that 
honest Ignorance of the gloss of refinement which 
any be looked for in a new and inexperienced 
people. But, when we find them arrived at nw 
tnrity in most of the vices^ and all the pride of 
ciriliaatioa, while they are still so Ikr removed 
from ita higher and better characteristics, it is ini- 
poaaible not to feel that this youthful decay, this 
erade smticipation of the oatural period of comip- 
tkm, mnat repress every sanguine hope of the future 
energy and greatness of America. 

I am oooacioiis that, in Tenturing these few 
I have said just enough to ofiTend, and by 
lent to convince j for the limits of 
a preAce prerent me from entering into a justifica- 
tion of my opinions, and I am committed on the 
■ntjlect ss effectually qb if I had written yotumes 
m their defence. My reader, however, is apprised 
of the very cursory obsen'ation upon which these 
opinions sre founded, and can easily decide for 
himself upon the degree of attention or confidence 
which they merit. 

With respect to ihe poems in general, which 
occupy the following pages, I know not in what 
manner to apologise to the public for intruding upon 
their notice such a mass of unconnected trifles, such 
jl world of epicurean atoms as I have here brought in 
eonfljct together. ' To say that I have been tempted 
by the liberal offers of my bookseller, is an excuse 
which can hope for but little indulgence from the 
critic ; yet I own that, without this seaBonahle in- 
ducement, these poems very possibly would never 
have been submitted to the world. The glare of 
publication is too strong for soch imperfect pro- 
ductions : they should be shown but to the eye of 
friendship, in that dim light of privacy which is as 
fiivonnihlc to poetical as to female beauty, and serves 
■a a veil for faults, while it enhances every charm 
which it displays. Benides, this is not a period fi>r 
the idle occupations of poetry, and times like the 
present require talents more active and more useful. 
Few have now the leisure lo road mieh trifles, and I 
most sincerely regret thut I have had the leisure 
10 write them. 



* Sm (h* foregOflnit Kote. p. 101. 

* Pjftlwsoru ( who WM iuppo»rtl lo hai'c a power or writ- 



POEMS RELATING TO AMERICA, 



LORD VISCOUNT STRANGFORD. 

ABOAKP THB FHArrOH rSIOATS, OFT lUI «S«iKa»« ST 



Sweet Bloon ! if^ like Crotona*s sage, * 
By any spetl my hand could dare 

To make thy disk its ample page, 

And write my thonghts, my wishes there ; 

How many a friend, whose careless eye 

Now wanders o'er that starry sky, 

Should smile, upon thy orb to meet 

The recollection, kind and sweet. 

The rcTeries of fond regret. 

The prooiLse, ntfver to forget, 

And all my heart and soul wotild send 

To many a dear- loT'd, distant friend. 

How little, when we parted last, 
I tliought those pleasant times were past. 
For ever past, when brilliant joy 
Was all my vacant beart*8 employ : 
When, fresh from mirth lo mirth again, 

We thought the rapid hours too few j 
Our only use fur knowledge then 

To gather bliss from all we knew. 
Delicious days of whim and soul ! 

When, mingling lore and laugh together, 
We leaned the book on Fleasure'ii Ik>wI, 

And tum'd the leaf with Folly s feather. 
Little I thought that all were fled. 
That, ere thai summer's bloom was shed, 
My eye should see the sail unflirl'd 
That wafls me to the western world » 

Aad yet, 'twas time ; — in youth's sweet dtiys, 
To cool that Beascm*s glowing rays. 
The heart awhile, with wanton wing, 
May dip and dive in PleQsure\s spring j 
liut, if it wait for winter's breeze, 
The spring will eh ill, the heart will freeze. 
And then, that Hope, that fairy Hope, — 

Dh ! she awnk'd such htippy dreams. 
And gave my .^*ml sm h tempting wope 

For all its dearest, fondest schemes, 



1 



fog upon the Moon hf %he 
Baylk, art. Pfftkoff. 



oral 



rtc mirror. — S« 




■ 




^^^^^ 


1 


^H 


106 MOORE'S WORK& 




Tlmt not Veromi*8 diild of soog, 


That, ikr beyond the western sea 


^H 


When Hying from tlie Phrygian shore. 


Is one, whose heart rcmcnxbers thee. 




^B 


With lighter heart coold bouad along, 






1 


Or pant to be u wa«d*rer more ! ' 
Eveo BOW detnsive hophe will steal 






' 


^H 


Amid the dark regrets I feel. 






^1 


Soothing, us yonder placid beam 


STANZAa 




^H 


Porsues the mnrmnrera of the deep, 






^H 


And lights them with consoling gk-am, 






^H 


And smile* them into tranquil sleep. 






H 


Oh ! such a blessed night as this. 






^H 


I often think, if friends were near, 






^1 


How we should feel, and paze with hlisi 


A BfiAM of tran<|uilUty smiFd in the west, 




^H 


Upon the moon-bright scenery here ! 


The storms of the morning pursued u«f no more ; 




^H 


The sea is like a silverj lake. 


And the wave, while it welcomed the moment of rest. 




^H 


And, o'er it« calm the vessel glides 


Still heav'd, as remembering ills that were o'er. 




^H 


Gently, as if it fear'd to wake 






^1 


The slninher of the silent tides. 


Serenely my heart took the hnc of the hour, 




^1 


The only envioos cloud that lowers 


Its passions were sleeping, were mute as the dead j 




^1 


Hath hnng its shade on Pieo*s height, * 


And the spirit becalm'd but remembcr'd their 




^H 


Where dimly, mid the dnsk, he towers, 


power. 




^H 


And fCQwUng at this heaven of light. 


As the billow the force of the gale that was fied. 




^H 


Exults to see the infant storm 






H 


Cling darkly round his giant form 1 


I thought of those days, when to pleasure tltme 
My heart ever granted a wish or a sigh j 




^p 


Now, could I rftnge those TerdanI isles, 


When the saddest emotion my bosom had known. 




^H 


InTif tbie at this soft hour, 


Was pity for those who were wiser than L 




^H 


And see the looks, the beaming smilea. 






^1 


That brighten many an orange bower j 


I reflected, hnw soon in the cup of Bestre 




^H 


And could I lift each pious veil. 


The pearl of the soul may be melted away i 




^1 


And see the blushing cheek it shades, — 


How quickly, alas, the pure sparkle of fire 


m 


^H 


Oh ! I should have full many a Ude, 


We inherit from hear'n, may be qoeoch'd in the 


■ 


^1 


To tell of young Axorian mwds.* ] 


clay ; 




^H 


Yea, Stmngfortl, at this hoar, perbapA, 






^H 


Some lover (not too idly blest. 


And I pmy*d of that Spirit who lighted the flame, 




^H 


Like those, who in their ladies' hkpa 


That Pleasure no more might its purity dim ; 




^H 


May cradle CTery wish to rest,) 


So that, sullied but little^ or brightly the same. 




^H 


Warbles^ to touch hla dear one*s Boal» 


I might give back Ibe boon I had borrow*d 




^H 


Those tnadrigals, of breath diTtoe. 


from him. 




^H 


Which Camoens' harp from Rapture stole 






^H 


And gave, all glowing warm, to thine. < 


How blest was the thought ! it appear'd as if Hearen 




^1 


Oh 1 could the lover learn (rom thee. 


Hod already an opcn'mg to Paradise shown i 




^H 


And breathe them with thy gracefbl lone, 


As if, passion all chastened and error forgiyen. 




^1 


8iich sweet, Iwguiling minstrelsy 


My heai-t then began to be purely its own. 




^^1 


Would make the coldest nymph his own. 






^H 


f took'd to the west, and the beautiful sky, 




^H 


Bttt, hark !— the boatswain^ pipings tell 


Which morning had clouded, was clouded no 


^ 


^H 


*Tia time to bid my drtom farewell : 


more t 


■ 


^H 


Eight beUs: — the middle watch U set ; 


" Oh I thu*,'* 1 exchiimed, "may a hcayenly eye 


^B 


^^ 


Good night, mj Straogford ! — ne er forget 


** Shed light on the soul that wis darken*d before,** 




^^H 








^^^^^^K 


OltHlliu:-> 


aa th« V99k of TwcrUlb, 




^B 


lam IMl «uidto iMte tlgMnni 1 


* 1 baltorv H U Guthria who mtk UmI th« Intubilanla ol 
tli«Ator«saraiiraebiMldlel«dtos«llMitrT. TUilanSHtff* 
tloo In nhkh tfmn GuttiH« Mtmj b« «f«4ltfld. 




M 


« A wtT high mounula on Mtt <»r elm Asorvt, fnn mhkh 


* TlM^ li»andj brlnnx lo tli« FotlUliUHv 




m 


I 


J 


1 



^^^^^^^^^^^^ 




POiilMS KELATING TO AMERICA. 107 






TO 


A mother saw our eyelida elose. 




THE FLYING FISR « 


And blesa'd them into pure repoae { 
Then, haply if a week, a day, 


1 




Wbex I bare seen tby s&ow -white wing 


I lingered from that home away, 


■ 




From tb« blue wetc il evening fpring* 


How long the little absence aeem*d I 


H 




And show thoM scales of silvery while. 


How bright the look of weLeoroe beamed. 


■ 




So J^lv to the eye of light. 


As mute yon heard, with eager smile. 






As if thy frame were formed to rifc^ 


My tales of all thai passed the while I 






And live amid the glorious akies ; 








Oil t it haa made me proudly feel. 


Yet now, my Kate, a gloomy sea 






How like thy wing's impatient zeal 


Rolls wide between that home and me ; 






Is the pare soul^ tluit rot* not, pent 


The moon may thrice be bom and die, 






Within this world*s gross element. 


Ere ev'n that seal can reach mine eye, 






Bui lakes the w'mg that God has given, 
And rises into light and heaven ! 


Which used so oft, so quick to come. 






Sdll breathing all the breath of home, ^— 








As it still fresh, the cordial air 






Bat, when I see that wing* so bright. 


From lips bi»lov'd were lingering there. 






Grow languid with a moment's flight. 


But now» alo4,^far d Liferent fate ! 






Attempt the paths of air in vain. 


It comes o'er ocean, slow and liiie. 






And tink into the waves again ; 


When the dear hand that GlFd its fold 






Alii ! the flattering pride is o'er ; 


With words of sweetness may lie cold. 






Like thee, awhile, the eoiil may soar, 








Bat erring man must blush to think. 


But hence that gloomy thought ! at last. 






Kike thee, again the soul may sink. 


Beloved Kate, the waves are past ; 
I tread on earth aeetirely now. 






Oh Virtne ! when thy clime I seek, 






I-et not my spirit's flight be weak : 


Than could a Claude's divinest dyes. 
At length I touch the happy sphere 






Let me not, like thiJ feeble ihlng. 






With bpioe still dropping from its wing. 






Just sparkle in the solar glow 


To liberty and virtue dear. 






And plunge again to depths below ; 


Where man looks up, and, proud to clsim 






Bat, when I leave the grosser throng 


His rank within the social frame, 






With whom my soul bath dwelt so long, 


Sees a grand system round bim roll. 






Let me, in that aspiring day, 


Himself ita centre, sun, and soul ! 






Caat every lingering stain away, 


Far from the shocks of Europe- — for 






And, panting for thy pnrer air, ' 


From every wild, elliptic star 






Fly up at once and &x me there. 


That, shoolmg with a devious fire, 
Kindled by heaven's avenging ire. 








So oft bath iuto chaos bur I'd 






TO 


The systems of the ancient world. 






MISS MOORE. 










The warrior here, in arms no more. 
Thinks of the toil, the conflict oer, 






In days, my Kate, when life wa« new, 


And glorying in the freedom won 






When, lull'd with innocence and you. 


For hearth and shriue, for sire and son, 






1 beard, in home's beloved shade. 


Smiles on the dnsky webs that bidt! 






The din the world at distance made ; 


His sleeping sword's rememberM pride. 






When, every night my weary bead 


l>iniile Peace, with sunny cheeks of toil. 






Sunk on iti own unthoined bed. 


Walks o'er the free, unlorded soil. 






And, mild aa evening's matron faoar. 


Effacing with her splendid share 






Looks on the fkintly shutting flower, 


The drops that war bad sprinkled there. 






I U U tbe opinion of 9t. Anttfn upon Geoeii«, and 1 be- 


t«n wiT«t*trM Wit rm tismrm. With thia ih ought la mit 






lief* of Ptiarlj aU the Father*, that bird«, Ulte Aib. wi>ra orl- 


mlDdi. whrn wi' firit lee tb* Flylnjt-FlAh^ we could «linn«t 






gia^lf pruducca from the wnten t la defence of nrhtch idea 


fanry. that we are pretcDt at the momrtit or creallon, and 






thef have coUected ereiy runclful clrcamitance which cwi 


wltiie*t ihc htfth of the Urit bird from the waret. 






tend to piroitK m Uodred slinllltude betwoen them t ruyyttum^ 






1 


k 


J 


1 



108 



MOORE^S WORKa 



■1 



Thrice bappy land I where lie who ftie« 

From the dark ills of other Bkie«, 

From scorn* or want** imiierving woes, 

Miiy shelttT him in proud repoce : 

Hope singa ulong the yellow sand 

His welcome (o a patriot land j 

The mighty wood, with pomp, receives 

Tbe stranger in its world of leave«t 

Which soon ihtir harrcn glorj' yield 

To the warm §hed and cullar'd field ; 

And he, who came, of all bereft. 

To whom malignant fxite had left 

Nor home nor friend* nor ©onntry dear, 

Finds home and friends *nd country here. 

Such is the picture, wannly such. 
That Fancy long, with ^orid touch. 
Hud painted to my sanguine eye 
Of man s new wt»rld of liberty. 
Oh I ask me not, if Truth have yet 
Her seal on Fancy's proroise set ; 
If ev*n a glimpw? my cyea behold 
Of tliat imugin'd age of gold j — 
Alas, not yet one gleaming traee ! ' 
Never did youtK "vfhty lov*d a face 
As (ikctcli'd by some fond pencirs skill, 
And made by fancy lovelier still, 
Shrink back with more of sad surprise* 
When the live model met hi» eyes. 
Than I have felt, in sorrow felt. 
To find a dream on which I've dwelt 
From boyhoiHl*s liour, thuB fade and fl*x» 
At touch of stem reality 1 

Hut, courage, yct» roy wavering heart f 
Htatne not the temple's meanest pari, * 
Till thou hast trac'd the fahric o*er : — 
As yet, we have beheld no more 
Than just the porch to Freedom's fane i 
And, though a sable spot may stain 
The vestibule, Ui* wrong, X\s sin 
To doubt the godheiwl reigns within I 
Bo here I pa\ise — and now. my Kate, 
To you, and those dear friends, whose fate 
Touflies more near thi« home-sick soul 
ThAO all the Powers from |Kjle to pole, 
One word at parting — in the tone 
Mort sweet to you, imd most my own. 

» SiwU MimAiilie worki m " The American FamiePi Lct- 
ir«," «iim1 U»^ *eeuuiit of Kratucky by Imlaj, wouLl Mdue* 
ui Into • lHi*Ucf, lyiai lnat>C4<t)c«>, pc«c^. nfitl rr«M«d(ifQ lud de> 
»rUt>4 tlu" re»l af tbe worl4 for Marrha'j Vlurjr«rd end tbf» 
btnlis at iIm Ohio, 'Dtf Frenrh trjAvlleri, too. almoit all 
I^Wi f«f nldtiofMrjr mottrii*^ hjirp rnntrlbtacdi their ftiAre to 
l^dJUkiAkm of thii |l«tt#rlng miicooci^piloD. A viiU to tl)« 
rt/Ufrtrr Is, l»owvT#r, <iiiilti» iwAetaot to eofrwt ctea the moftt 
•iil|i»iiil4Atk t>r»poue«*lo«. 



The simple strain I aend you here, ^ 
Wild though it be, would cbunn your ear. 
Did you but know tbe trauet of thought 
In which my mind its numbers caiUght. 
*Twas one of those half-waking dreams, 
That haunt me oft, when music seems 
To bear my soul in soaud along. 
And turn its feelings all to song, 
I thought of home, the according by« 
Came full of dreams of other days ; 
Freshly in each succeeding note 
I found some young remembrance float. 
Till following, as a clue, thai strain, 
I wauder'd back to home again. 

Oh t love the song, and let it oft 
Live on your lip, in accents soft. 
Say that it tells you, limply well. 
All I have bid it»wild notes tell, — 
Of Memory H dream, of thoughts that yet 
Glow with the light of joy that's set, 
And all the fond heart keeps in store 
Of friends and scenes beheld do more* 
And now, adieu I — this artless air, 
With a few rhymes, in transcript fair. 
Are all tbe gift* I yet can boast 
To send yoti from Columbia a coast ; 
Btit when the sun, with warmer smile. 
Shall light me to my destin'd isle,* 
You shall have many a cowslip- bell. 
Where Ariel slept, and many a shell. 
In which that gentle spirit drew 
From hoaey flowers the morning dew. 



A BALLAD. 
run LAKE OF THE I>1SMAL SWAMP, 

WRITTIW AT ttOWOtm, tH %IllCt<vU, 

" TbcT l«ll of « TOitnf mui, who loit hU mind upon thfl 
dMth of A (tirl h« lovod, and who, iiicldeiilj tUjapiiearlDg Trtym 
his frlf^wli, wtu neter nflefwJirdi hrard of. A» he bftd ft»- 
qijoDtij ukl. In hit niirinirt. that ihi- girl wu not dcvd, but 
fffifie lo the DivniAl Sw^mp, It U •upFK>t«d he bad wnndered 
Into that dretfjr wUdomBu, ami had died of hunger, or been 
loft in Mine of it» draadfUl morjKK-t," — Anoit. 

'* L« Pofak a MA moutres comine la, luioro.'* — D^Ai^ctf • 

WIUIT. 

" They made her a grave, too cold and damp 
** For a soul to warm and trues 

* Norfolk, It must be oviifid, pr«««9kt4 an cnifATOurmtiln 
•ft«diDeci of Anorka. The charftctrh^tlct of Vlrirh>la In 
gca«nU arv not lucti u can drllfbt rillief the jDolUklan or 
Ibo' RKirAKat. and ui Korfuli thof mn^ rihlbited in tli^ir U'ttiti 
Hittnictlvit form. At tbe ttmr wben wo arrlvnl thr yclltiv 
f«rer h«d tint yet dlisp pt i iir» d, and evety <xlnur that uiiLUed 
U4 In the itrecU voly itroQgly aecOfUnt«d for Iti riiUatioa, 

* A tridUig altonipt at tauifcal compotltloD acrooip4»lRl 
tliU Bplitl«. * Bermuda, 




POEMS RELATING TO AMERICA. 



109 



** AmdAei*mgooetoiheLmke of the Dmaal Swamps ^ 

* Wkere, all oiglit kmg, bj a fire-fly kmp, 
** She pmrfrilf* her vlute canoe. 

* And her fire-dr Unip I toon dull fee, 
** And licr paddle I soon Aball hear ; 

* Vem^ mod loving oar Uie shall be, 

* Aad rU hide the maid m a cypreaa tree, 
* Wben the lbo«fltep of death ja near.* 

Ava^ to Ike Dimal Swamp he s|ieeda — 

Hta pmh ww ragged atul tore, 
TWooglh tangled juniper, beda of reeda, 
Tfafongti many a fen, vhere the ferpent feeds. 

And xnnn never trod before. 



Amd, when cm the earth he sunk to sleep, 

If almaher his eyelids knev^ 
Bm lay, where th« deadly vine doth weep 
Ha venmBOQa tear and nightly steep 

Tli« flesh with blistering dew ! 

Aad near him the she* wolf stirr'd the brake, 
And the eopper-snake breath'd m his ear. 
Till he starting cried, from his dream awake^ 
*^ Oh ! when shall I see the dosky Lake, 
^ And the white canoe of my dear ? " 

He saw the Lake, and a meteor bright 

Qnick over its surface play*d — 
•» Welcome^** he said, ** my dear one's light ! " 
And the dim shore echoed, for many a night. 

The name of the death-cold maid. 

Till be hoUow'd a boat of the birchen bark. 

Which carried him off from shore ; 
Tmt, far he followed the meteor spark, 
The wind was high and the clouds were dark. 
And the boat retum'd no more. 

But olt, from the Indian hunter's camp, 

This lover and maid so true 
Are seen at the hour of midnight damp 
To eroas the Lake by a fire-tly lamp, 

And paddle their white canoe I 



« Tb« Onat DiimAl Swunp ii ten or twelve mi1«f dfiUnt 
iNnii Kof^k, «nd the L«k« lo the mkldlc of It Ubout tcTeo 
Bili^r* l4fDg) fs cftll«0 DmmmoTKl'i PcmmI. 

• L^dj^ Dciat>8«lK I had rraion to lappoM*, wac at thl* tirae 
imi In 9«itMrl«id» whcrv thv wcU>kno«rii pi>wef* of her 
|p«rtl nrail haw !»«» fr«iu«TitIy AWAV^nvd. 

I of WillhuB Tell on die L«ke of Ltic«me. 



TO TKB 
MABCH10NE8S DOWAGEE OF t>OKEOALL. 

raOM BSKHrrDii, J4!tU4aT, IKM, 

LAi>ir I where'er you roam, whatever land 
Woa« the bright touches of that artist hand i 
>^liether yon sketch the valley's golden mmdBt 
Where masy Linth his lingering enrrent leads }> 
Enamoar'd catch the mellow hnes that sleep, 
At eve, on Melllerie's immortal steep ; 
Or musing o'er the Lake, at day's decline, 
Mark the last shadow on that holy shrine, ' 
Where, many a night, the shade of Tell complains 
Of Gallia's triumph and Helvetia's chains ; 
Oh ! lay the pencil for a moment by, 
Turn from the canvass that creative eye. 
And let its splendonr, like the morning ray 
Upon a shephf!rd*s harp, illume my lay. 

Yet, Lady, no — for song so rude as mine. 
Chase not the wonders of your art divine j 
Still, radiant eye^ upon the canvass dwell ; 
Still, magic finger, weave your potent spell ; 
And, while I sing the animated smiles 
Of fairy nature in these sun-bcjm isles, 
Oh, might the song awake some bright design. 
Inspire a touch, or prompt one happy line, 
Proud were my soul, to see its huinbl*^ thought 
Ou paintiiig*s mirror so divinely caught i 
IVbile wondering Genius, as he lean'd to trace 
The faint conception kindling into grace. 
Might love my numbers for the spark they threw. 
And bless the by that lent a charm to you. 

Say, have you ne'er, in nightly vision, stray 'd 
To those pure isles of ever-blooming shade, 
WTiIch bards of old, with kindly fancy, plac'd 
For happy spirits in th' Atlantic waste ? "» 
There listening, while, from earth, each breeze 

that came 
Brought echoes of their own tmdying fame, 
[a eloquence of eye, and dreams of song, 
They charm'd their lapse of nightless hours 

along: — 
Nor yet in song, that mortal ear might suit. 
For every spipit was itself a lute, 
Where Virtue wakeu'd, with elysian breeze. 
Pure tones of thought and mental harmonies. 



* M. GebcUn taji. In hii Monde Primit(f, ** Lor»quii $tm> 
bon crCtt que lei axkcient th'tologleoj et poetps pk^folr'^nt l«i 
cliampi Bfievt daat lei litei de TQcCJUi Atlaatique,. 11 D^n- 
ieudit rleu & k'ur doctrtne/' M* GeLwUn't auppotJUun, 1 
hare no tfuubu i* ttae more correct ; but that, of Slmbo It^ In 
the preienC lufttfttice, tnott tu my purpoie. 






110 



MOORE'S WORKa 



Beiiere me. Lady, when tbe zephyrs bland 
FUaated our bark to this eachanted land,— 
These loafy isles upon the ocean thrown, 
Liki* studs of emerald o'er a silver zone, — 
Not ull the chanii, thiit ethnio fancy gave 
To blessed arbours o'er the wefteru wave, 
Conid wake a dream, more soolhing or sublime. 
Of howerg etherciil, and Ihe Spirit'a clime. 

Bright roee the morning, every wave wjw itill. 
When the first perfume of a cedar hill 
SwiMMly awak*d ns, and, with smiling charms. 
The fairy harbour woo'd us to its annsJ 
Gently we stole, before the wbisp'ring wind, 
Through plainlain shadeft, that round, like awnings, 

twin'd 
And kiss'd on either side the wanton fi&ils, 
Breathing our welcome to these vernal vale* i 
While, ikr reflected o'er the wave sereiu^ 
Eijcih wooded island shed so sofi a green 
That the enamoui'd Leel, with whisp'rlng ptay^ 
Through liquid herbage seem'd to steal Ha way. 

Never did weary bark more gladly glide, 
Or rest it« anchor in a lovelier tide 1 
Alon^ the niargto, many a ahiomg dotne, 
Wliite na the palace of a l^pland gnome, 
BrigbteD*d the wave ; — in every myrtle grove 
Secluded bashful, like a shrine of love. 
Some eMo mansion sparkled through (he shade i 
And, while the foliage interpofiing play'd. 
Lending the scene an ever-ehangiiig grace. 
Fancy would love, in glimpses vague, to truce 
The flowery capital, the shiifl^ the pArch,^ 
And dream of teuiplof, till her kindltng torch 
Lighted me back to all the glorious days 
Of Attic genius 5 and I ecem*d to gaze 
Oh marble, from the rich Penielic mount. 
Gracing the umbrage of some Naiad's fuunt. 

Then thnti(^ht I, to<i, of thee, most sweet of all 
The spirit race that come al poet's call, 

I KuihIiiK C4n be more roni«ntic than tlirlitUe h«rb(Hir of 
Be GtorieV Tbw immb«r of tK-aiuKul Uleti, the ttngulor 
ckanwsi of the wtktvr. And thn KUtinated t>taf of the graceful 
lUlUi boaU.cbiUng for rvcr bvtwwn theliUnilt^and •r«nilDf 
to Mil rn>m ono cptUr-gruvo Into uioth«r, formed altofi!!ib«r 
at UmtljT a niiiilatur« of aaturc'i beautief m can well be 

* Thlt It «n ftlliulnra whtcb, to tho few who nre r«i»ciru] 
I to Indulf* to ll« rrnd4^rB the cceucry at Dnrtnuda p&r- 
Heutsrty lnt«>r4>*llnf. Id thtr short but bcdiitiriU tnUight of 
tbvlr •prlnjK frvi>nlnf ■. tlw wtiltQ cotla«««^ tciitt«red otrer the 
Ut«nd«, wnd Ind |*4Hlallf iMffi CHrouffh tha trt« tJi»t lur- 
round thetn, «««utna o*lon tli« appearance of UttJ© Grecian 
l«Ri|»1e« 1 Ami a v\r\A Iwicy m«f nnb^^Uith the poof fiiJirr- 
ntaii*! hut wltH CTi4tjn»oa tuth u thu pencil of a CUude tudghi 
'" "■* f ' ..T o(t« UnauTlte objiwt of tblc kind In my walks, 
[>U4tkt7 of it! owi»er robb«d rat of , bf aiktirf 
") Ho «aa a pUUn food man, and licdviid m* 



Delicate Ariel I who, in hrighlcr boura^ 
Liv'd on the perfume of tbc»e honied bowcra. 
In veWct budft, at evening, lov'd to lie, 
And win with music every rose's iigh. 
Though wc^k the magic of my humble strain 
To charm your spirit from its orb again. 
Yet, oh, for her* beneath whose smile I sing. 
For her (whose pencil, if your raitibow wing 
Were dimm'd or nilBud by a wintry fiky. 
Could smooth its feather and relume ila dye,) 
Desoeud a moment from your starry Rphere, 
And, if the lime -tree grove that onee was dear. 
The sunny wave, the bower, the breezy hill, 
The sparkling grotto can delight you siiH. 
Oh cull their choicest tints, their softest light* 
Weave all these spells into one dream of nighty 
And, while the lovely nrti«t slumbering lies. 
Shed the warm picture o'er her mental eyes ; 
Take for the task her own creative spells. 
And brightly show what song but faintly tella. 



GEORGE MORGAN, ESQ. 

or ftonrOLK, VlMOUttA.' 
FROBI BEftHirDA, JAKUABT, 1804. 

Calumacr. ^immi Al l>fi. t. II. 

Oh. what a sea of storm weVe pass'd J — 
High mountain waves and foamy showers, 

And battling winds whose savage blast 
But ill agrees with one whose hours 
Have pa/is'd In old Anacreon's bowers. 

Yet think not poesy's bright charm 

Forsook me in this rude alarm ; * — 

wfll And wnrtnlf, but I eouUl n«ver turn bit ho-am Into a 
Greriatt temple agiiin. 

^ TUifl gcnttpiiiitn ti stlaclied to iKo Dritlth coniulato at 
Norfitlk. HI* tiiteofct art worthy of a much higher fjihrrr; 
but the excellent dlipoiltldfia of the fiimUjr with whom he 
rnttdet, and Che cordial repote he cnjiojri amongtt tone of the 
kindeal he«rti In the world, thouJd be almoft enouffb toatooa 
to him for the worct CJtprtcei of fortutM. Tlie coii*ul him- 
telf, ColoDet tiamllton, ii ODe among the very fiiw trutacioc* 
of a man, anlt-ntijr loyal to hli klof , and jet tMloved bj the 
Amerlciuii. Hb houJM* ■■ the very Uiaplo of hoipJCalltj, ai>d 
I lincert-ly pitf the heart of that ttranier who, warm from 
the welcome of *iieh a board, could ilt down to write a libel on 
hU hoft. In the true ipirit of a mo>lem pbilo»ophUt« Bee th* 
TniveU ol the Duke de 1a KouchtfoueatUt LUttcourt, eoL li 

* We were teven day* an our pcuMge from Norfolk to 
Bermuda, during three of wbkh we weft furoeii to Ujtu In 
a gale of wind. Tlw Drii«r iloop of war, In whkh I went. 



I 



5 



POEMS RELATING TO AMERICA. 



Ill 



Wheo eloi» tihej rcerd tht timid t&il, 

Wlicft, every plank compblnisg loud. 
We Ubour'd in the midnight gile. 

And ev'n out htughty main-mast bow'd, 
Even th«n, in that imkyrely hoar, 
Tbc Mn«e still brought her loothing power, 
And, nudst the war of wares and wind, 
la BOOf^f Elysium Iapp*d my mind. 
Kaj, when DO numbers of my own 
Kcspondi'd to her wakening tone, 
9fte op«ii'd, with her golden key, 

The caaket where my memory lays, 
Tliote guns of daanc poeiy. 

Which time hat saT*d from ancient dayfi. 

Take oae of these, to Lain «ttng» — 
I WTQCe it while my hammock swung, 
Aa o«ie might write a dissertation 
Vpaa ** Suspended Animatioa i ** 

Sweet » IS your kiss, my Lais dear, 
But* with that kiss I feel a tear 
Qxuh from your eyelids, such as start 
Wbt3i tho«e whoVe dearly lov*d rauft port 
Ssdly yott lean your head to mine. 
And mute those arms around oie twine, 
Yoor hair adown my bosom spread, 
All glittering with the tears you shed. 
In rain IVe kiss'd those lids of snow, 
For still, like ceaseless founts they ^ow. 
Bathing our cheeks, whene'er they meeL 
Why is it thus ? do, tell roe^ sweet I 
Ah, Lais ! are my bodinga right ? 
Am 1 to lose yoa ? is to-night 
Otir last - — - go, false to heaven and me 1 
Your rery tears are treachery. 



Socn, while in air I fluating hung, 
Such was the strain* Morgasite mio 1 

I ImhU at Bemuda of c«d«-, and 1$ acoountsd so excellent 
She WW then cooiroaodod bf mj ^ery raucb ro* 
I JMcvd Cjipt^n Coiaptoo, wlia to Julj Ijut wu Itlllt-d 
1 lite Lilly In an actioo mVth a French, priTnti^r, Pooi 
Ocnaptnn t he firU a rtctim to tb« iiratige limpoHcy nt allowf ng 
•ack a mlMn^e thio; u the Lbllf to remain In the kervke i; 
•o MiMli, craolt, and unmanagfrab]'^, that a wcU-maEUud 
tncrchaiitmaii wia at anjr tltnvi a match for her. 

' Ttiii epigram U by Faiil the SiltrnUiury, and may he round 
la tli« Anatecta of Branck, vot. iii. p. 72. Aa the reading 
tlferrc Is «ofi)«wbat dUAirent (torn what \ have fallowed In thU 
Irantlaiion, I «ball give H mm I hod ft In my memory al fhi: 
Uiii«, and «• U it la Helnalua, who, 1 believe,^ firft produced 
the epfi^rain. Mee hii Poenwta. 

Hg^^itturtn )aa|0 j^llic /SMfof**. 



The muae and \ together sung. 

With Boreaa to make ont the triow 
Bot, bless the little feiry iaie 1 

How sweetly after all onr ilia* 
We saw the snnny morning smile 
Serenely o'er its flagrant hills j 
And felt the purc^ delicious flow 
Of airs, that round this Eden blow 
Freshly as ev*n the gales that come 
O'er our own healthy hills at home. 

Contd yon but view the scenery fair. 

That now beneath my wmdow lies, 
You'd think, that nature laviah'd there 

Her purest ware, her softest skies, 
To make a hearen for love lo sigh in, 
For bards to live and saJBts to die in. 
Clo«e to my wooded bank below, 

In glossy calm the waters sleep, 
And lo the sunbeam proudly show 

The coral rocks they love to steep.,'' 
The fainting breeze of morning ^Li; 

The drowsy boat moves slowly past. 
And I can almost touch it^ sails 

As Wise tliey flap around the mast 
The noontide sun a splendour potirs 
That lights up oil these leafy shores ; 
While his own hcav'n, its clouds and beams. 

So pictnr'd iu the waters tie, 
Thiit each small bark, in passing, seems 

To float along a burning sky. 

Oh for the pinnace lent to thee,' 

Blest dreamer, who, in visioo bright. 
Didst sail o'er heaven's solar sea 

And touch at alt its isles of light 
Sweet Venus, what a clime Ue found 
Within thy orb's ambrosial romrd ! * — 
There spring the breezes, rich and wami, 
That sigh around thy Ycspcr car \ 

Eii^i I' «»i4{«^«^, Tit«r m/t^mm. IsaftNi AwCiff I 

» The wat«f ii io clcatT around the klamd, that the rocki 
are teen bene3.tb to a very great di^pth \ and, ai we cmtered 
the harbour,^ ihey appe-arcd to u» ko near thi* tuffaco that it 
icemed ln)pos»IUIe we ihould nut •Irlk" ou them. There \% 
Qo neccj«lty, of ixiiiri&, fuf heaving the lead ; and thL- npgru 
pilot, looking dowa at the roclu ftom tho bow of Ute ih^lp, 
take« her through LhU difficult luvlgntlan, with a ikkll luid 
cmifldence which teem to aitmnUh iKtme of the <>lldeit iollart. 

' In Klrcher'i " Ecstatic Journey to Ucatcu," €oimliil, 
thi* genlui or the vorld, Rivei Theodldnrttin a boat df aibcAto*. 
with which he emlMiTlu inen the regloot of the tun. *' Vidci 
Ciaji Cosmiel) hanc afbcttlnam nafkulam cQiinnioditati tun 
pneparatam."— //fVrar. !. Dial. I. cap. 5, Thii work of 
Klrehef ahoundi with frtrsinge f.iiidei. 

« When the Cciilui of the world and hU fellow-trsvellrr 
«trrlY0 at the plLvnet Venus, ihcy lind ati lilitnd or lorcltnesa, 
full of odouTB aiid li^t-rlLlgencen, wbi^re angel* preside, who 
■b«d the coiTuttle Lnaucoce of thii pUnet ofer Ibo earth j 




J 



112 MOORE*S WORKS. 


And angels dwrdl, so pure of ftinn 


'Tis irne, it talks of danger oigh, 


Thttt each appears a liviDg star* ' 


Of sluinb'ring with the dead to-morrow 


These are the sprites, celestial queen 1 


In the cold deep, 


Thou sendest nightly to the hed 


WTiere pleasure*s throb or tears of sorrow 


Of hep I love, with touch unseen 


No more shall wake the heart or eye, 


Thy pliiuet^ii bright'niug tints to shed; 


But all must sleep. 


To lend that eye a light still clearer, 




To give that cheek one rose-blash more, 


Well I — there are some^ thou stormy be<i. 


And hid that hhishing lip he dearen 


To whom thy sleep would be a treasure j 


Which had been all too dear before. 


Ob I most to him. 




Whose lip hath drain'd life's eup of pleasure. 


But, whither means the muse to roam ? 


Nor left one honey drop to shed 


*Ti3 lime to call the wimdVer home. 


1 Round norrow'fl brim. 


Who could have thought tlie nymph would perch her 




Tp in the clouds with Father Kircher ? 


Yes — he can smile serene at death : 


So, health and love to all your mansion 1 


Kind heaven, do thou but chase the weeping 


Long may the bowl that pk'asures bloutD ioi 


Of friends who love him; 


The flow of heart, the soul's expansion. 


Tell them that he lies calmly ileeping 


Mirth and tonf?, your board illumine. 


Where sorrow's sting or envy's breath 


At all yotir feasts, remember too. 


No more shall move him. 


When caps are sparkling to the brim. 




That here m one who drinks to you« 




And, oh ! as warmly driok to hinu 







ODES TO NEA;. 




waurav at asaiiuoA. 


LINES, 

WBITTEff IN JL STORM AT BKA. 

That sky of clouds Is not the tiky 




K£A f«f»ni. — EouriD. M&tea, v, OCT. 




To light a lover to the pillow 


Nat, tempt me not to lore agam, 


Of her he loves — 


' There was a time^when love waa gweet; 


The swell of yonder foaming billow 


Dear Neal had I known thee theti, 


Resembles nol the happy sigh 


Our souls had not tNcen slow to meet. 


That rapttire movea. 


But. oh, this weary heart hath run, 




So many a time, the roitnds of pain, 


Yet do t feel more tranqml fitf 


Not ev'n for thee, thou lovely one^ 


Amid the gloomy wilda of ocean. 


Would 1 endure such pangs again. 


Id this dark hour, 




Than when» in pa*6ion'8 young emotion. 


If there be climes, where neirer yct 


Tve stolen, beneath ihe evening star. 


The print of beauty's fi>ot was set, 


To Julia's bower. 


Where man may pass his loveless nighta. 




Unfever'd by her false delights, 


Oh I thcre*fi a holy calm profound 


Tlttther my wounded aoul would flj. 


lu awe like this, that neVr was given 


Where rosy cheek or radiant eye 


To pleasure'* thrill ; 


ShtmkJ bring no more their bliss, or pain. 


'Tia as a froletnn voice fnim heaveOf 


Nor fetter me to earth again. 


And the ioal, listening to the aouod^ 


Dear absent girl ! whose eyes of light. 


Lies mote aud 6litL 


Though little priz'd when all ray own. 


Mdi iHliii, aeDcwdlnf la aMrolog«4^, th* *' vie inauKlvii'* of 


•* An ftquii globt V«n«Hi baptivmtu tniUtuI poult ?" to wdkh 


Vflittf. WImmi tlicx «r* In till* pirt of ihi» lie«r«ti*, m caiul*- 


|H» Getilu* ■iiiwvrt. " CrruUnly," 




1 Thit UUm U rather KirctMr'i. " ToC anlmatoi •ol<!« 




dliOiiM"— /IM^rar. t. Dimi. I cap. 5. 




POEIffi RELATING TO AMERICA. 



118 




L Oey im enamiMvii 

[dKf9hmw% I teen glide. 
While fix'd, oidmed, bj thy tide, 
UnundfU cf Om lleet^ day, 
rve kt lifeli drann dknlre awi^. 
O bloooi €f jooth prolbiely died I 
O BflBMBlit aBpij. faiiilj ^ed» 
T€t ftvoeny too — nv Low perAuu'd 
TVe flase wlucb tlm my life oooeiim'd ; 
Aad brillkak WW tlM diain of flowen, 
fm which he led my Tiotim-boun. 

Bmj, Nea» my, eonldst thoo, like her, 
When wirm to ftd and quick to err. 
Of hmng ftod, of roTing fonder, 
Thia thoaghtlfas aonl might wiah to wander, - 
Oooldat thou, like her, the wiah reclaim. 

Endearing aCiU, reproaching nerer. 
Till cVh thia heart shoold horn with shame. 

And he thy own more fiz'd tium ever ? 
Va, DO — on earth there'a only one 

Coold bind soch fkithlem IbUy flwt ; 
And lore on earth hot one akme 

Conld make soch Tirtne ftlae at last I 

Ken, the heart which ihe foraook. 

For thee were hot a worthleaa shrine — 
Go^ lorely girl, that angel look 

Host thrill a sonl more pore than mine. 
Oh I thou Shalt be all else to me. 

That heart can feel or tongue can feign ; 
TU praise, admire, and worship thee, 

Bat mnat not, dare not, Iotc again. 



— Tale iter omne care. 

PsoPSST. lib. ir. eleg. 8. 

I PSAT yon, let as roam no more 
Along that wild and lonely shore, 

Where late we thoughtless stray*d ; 
Twas not for ns, whom heaven intends 
To be no more than simple friends, 

Snch lonely walks were made. 

That little Bay, where taming in 
From ocean's rude and angry din. 

As lovers steal to bliss. 
The billows kiss the shore, and then 
Flow back into the deep again, 

Aa thoogh they did not kiss. 



Bemember, o*er its circling flood 

In what a dangerons dream we stood — 

The nlent sea before us, 
Around ns, all the gloom of grove. 
That erer lent its shade to love. 

No eye but heaTcn's o*er ust 

I saw yoa blush, you felt me tremble. 
In Tain would fennal art dissemble 

All we then look'd and thought ; 
'Twas more than tongue could dare reTcal, 
'Twas er*Tj thing that young hearts feel. 

By LoTc and Nature taught 

I stoop'd to cull, with fidtering hand, 
A shell that, on the golden sand. 

Before us feintly gleam'd ; 
I trembling rais*d it, and when you 
Had kist the shell, I kist it too— 

How sweet, how wrong it seem'd I 

Oh, trust me, 'twas a place, an hour, 
The worst that e'er the tempter's power 

Could tangle me or you in ; 
Sweet Nea, let us roam no more 
Along that wild and lonely shore, 

Soch walks may be our ruin. 



You read it in these spell-bound eyes. 
And there alone should loye be read ; 

You hear me say it all in sighs. 
And thus alone should love be said. 

Then dread no more ; I will not speak ; 

Although my heart to anguish thrill, 
111 spare the burning of your check. 

And look it all in silence still 

Heard you the wish I dar'd to name. 
To murmur on that luckless night, 

When passion broke the bonds of shame. 
And love grew madness in your sight? 

Divinely through the graceful dance. 
You seem'd to float in silent song. 

Bending to earth that sunny glance. 
As if to light your steps along. 

Oh I how could others dare to touch 
That hallow'd form with hand so free. 

When but to look was blisa too moch. 
Too rare for all but Love and me I 



114 



MOORE'S WORKS. 



With Bmilmg eyes, that little iJioog^ht 
How fatal were the beams thoy threir, 

Mj trembling hjmda yon lightly caught. 
And round ae, like a spirit, flew. 

Heedless of all, but you aloop, — 

And you^ at lca«t, should not condemn^ 

If, when such eyes before me ihoni?. 
My fioul forgot nil eye* but ihein, — 

I dar*d to whisper passion's vow, — 

For love had cv*n of thought bereft nit*, — 

Nay, half-way beat to kiss that brow, 
But, with a bound, you hluahing left rae» 

Forget, forget that night's offiface, 

Forgive it, if, atas I ymi can ; 
*Twa8 love, *twaa passiou — soul and sense^ 

Twos ail that's best and worst in muti. 

That moment, did tb' iisstMnhled eyes 
Of heaven and earth n»y madness vinr, 

I should have seen, tlmnjgh earth and skli'S, 
But you aloue^but only you. 

Did not a frown from you reprove, 
Myriads of eyes to me were none j 

Enough for me to win your love, 
And die ui>on the spot when won. 



A DREAM OF ANTIQUITY. 

I J VST had turn'd the chiasic page, 
And trac'd thiit happy period over, 

"When blest aUke warv youth ond age, 

And love inspir'd the wisest sage, 

And wisdom graced the tcnderest lover. 

Before I laid nic down to slwp, 

Awhile I from the lattice gaz'd 
Upon that still and moonlight deep. 

With isles like floating gardens rais'd 
For Ariel (here his sports to keep; 
\VI)ih\ gliding 'twiit thoir hafy shores, 
The lone niglit-fiisher plied his oars. 

t CMaM-n^l Ihink* iHM tti« ffunJeni, which P.iuaaniM tnea- 
tVini< (n liU (Iral b<ioli* wtn t)i««« of Kplniru* i aitd StuArt 
Mifii In hli Ant^tjlrlai of AtHeni, "tlmr iUU convtn\t (the 
fMitMit of lljtfflfM Aiomtlo*) (i the pl«c« cMlleA At |ires«nt 
KrfHri, If tUti iUktivn* ', «fHl Ainp<*lo« Kr^poi.ortht* Vineyard 
|J«f«l*f»i Hirm wBrn prubiUiljr the fanlcii* ivhich rdiiMni^ 

V41I.I. vlMpt. 



I fell, ^—90 strongly fancy's power 
Came o'er me in that witching hour, — 
As if the whole bright scenery there 

Were lighted by a Grecian sky. 
And I then breath'd the blissful air 

That hue had thriU'd to Sappho's sigh. 

Thus, waking, dreamt I,— and when Sleep 

Came o'er my sense, the dream went on ; 
Nor, through her curtain dim and deep, 

Hath ever lovelier vision shone. 
I thought that, all enrapt, I stray *d 
Throujjjh that serene, luxurious shade, ' 
Where Epicurus taught the I-#oves 

To polish virtue's native brightuess, — 
As pearls, weVc told, that fondling doves 

Have pLiy'd with, vrear 11 smoother whtlenma.^ 
*Twai one of ihoAe delicious nights 

80 oomtnoii in the climes of Greece, 
When day withdraws but half its Ughts, 

And all is moonithiue, bahn, and peace. 
And thon wert there> my own helov'd, 
And by thy side I fondly rov*d 
Through many a tempk^'s reverend gloom. 
And many a bowers Bcductivc bloom, 
Where Beauty learned what Wisdom taught, 
And KJig;f*s sigh'd and lovers thought [. 
Where schoolmen conn'd no maxims stem. 

But iill was formed to soothe or move, 
To make the dullest love to learn, 

To tualce the coldest learn to love* 

And now the fairy pathway seetu'd 

To lead us through enehanied ground, 
Where all that bar<l has ever dream 'd 

Of love or luxury bloom 'd arourjd. 
Oh I 'I was a bright, bewildVing scene — 
Along the alley's deep'ning green 
Soft lamps, that hung like burning flowers, 
And scented and illumed the bowers, 
Seem'd, as to him, who darkling rovea 
Amid the lone Hercynian groves. 
Appear those conntlesiS birds of tight, 
That sparkle in the leaves at night. 
And from their wings diffuse a ray 
Along the traveller's weary way*' 
'Twos light of that mysterious kind. 

Through which the sou) perchance may roam, 
When it has left this world behind, 

And gone to stick its heavenly home. 

* Tbtt method o( puliitiliif ptwHt, bf Ittving tbeiti a«rbU« 
to t>e pUy^d vrUh by duvtfi, b niL'ncfoned bf th* (kndfiil Car* 
doinjt. itii< R«>rtim Vark'Lit. UU. Ul. ra|n. M. 

> 111 HL-rryitto Gt^rm^iilif mUu (nusttata feaera aUtOB ae- 
ccpimuB, quAfiim |}lum«, tfniuin moio^ coUuceaat ttoPtHwn. 
— /'//», Uh.x cap, 47. 



POEMS EEX*ATIN0 TO AMEBICA. 



115 



Asd, H^a« tl&oa w€rt by my ftide, 

TbnTD^b ^ thk besY'ii'iriird path mj gnidiL 

Sal, lOb at WMMFriiit tliiis w« naf '4 
Tbtf ^nr«i^ poitlW ^M Tkion changed | 
Am£ Bcnr, ii»etbon^t» we stole aLcmg 

nEOD^gb halk of more voltiptacntt glory 
^%si fffvr llVd in T«mi] song, 

Dr wantoned m ^f ileciaii story. ' 
Aad ajmphft wetv tli«rer wIkmc very «y«« 
fie«DL*d auAeDrd o'er iritb broiih of ti^lit ; 
WhoM mw^ rmgkt, as it wretth'd^ 
A Ba|» ^pcil to paanoo bresthU 
Bone llcw, witib I0i1i«r cups, arotiDd« 

FoQHug tbe llo««i7 wbes af Crete; ^r 
Aad, as tliey pies'd with youtMil bountU 

The oo jx shone beiicstli their feet^ 
Wbtle otiicT*, waTuig iLrms of snow 

Eotum'^i Ivy mok^ of bumbh'd gold^^ 
And ttlk0wipg cliajTQSp as loth to shoWi 
*|%ztiiig^ jnanj a tbbi Tar^titiMi fpld,^ 
BMHSg the festal throng 
rich wroi of flowen aloag. 
Where toms Jay, In languor bjreathmg« 
Ajid the joifDg be^grspe*^! round them wr^athiiig* 
Bdii^ on their blushes vrarm and m^k. 
Like curia upoQ a tosy cheek. 

Ulkt Nea! vhy did momixtg break 

The wp^U thai thus dWincly bodod me 7 

Whj did t iTiike f how could I wake 

With th«e my o«n find heaven aromid me 1 



Wkex^ — P«B^ ^ thy heart, thoitgb another's it be. 
And beslib to that cheek, thougb it bloom not for 
met 



t Th* mktlKi, or MUdlBi] Miies§. huA tb^tr origin In 
Mneta, m lavurfocu lj>ira of fonliu Arlitlde* wni the nto«t 
efl^jfafed Authar of theiw liccHnElouj jQctltJiu.. See J^tmtarck 
(Id CraiH«), wtia e^lU them «L«i,»^«^* ^tCi-m. 

* ** SoQie of ihc CrrUn nrlnoi, whk-h Alheiiaeui ealU 4vi«r 
Aiarfufv* H'lsfis tbef r rrmgriiK^ r^tetobUiif ttiat of tfi« Aneit 

3 It xpip«an that In ver; tpLiriiifTd maniloni, the floor or 
p^TBu e i it vai rrequmtJ j of mift. Thtu MartUl : " Calea- 
ttuqu* tiM» vob psie Itfcet Dnyi."* Eplg &&, Mb. xil. 

* Br*ctd<^ of thlit ihip« wvre ft favouHie fSnumeut unD>d|!; 
ttie «ratt}en of atltlqUltjT. 0>f m-4««{9'i[iiii »f4iif mm* m £^v#fu 
ntib @K<ii3«r mm* A^ iirrw^nn^ «f «&( A»j)cf f SifiiAVfl — rPAttoitrat, 
Epbt, xl. LodAU, too, C«tli UA of tlio ^faxwfV ^f/mmmne. 
See hi* AiHifvt, wbertt he dei-ciibei the df«MlDg-r«oni »r a 
GraciAu ]^j. and wft fiod tbfi ** iHrcr tu«^^* th« roUf«. (he 
tootb-fiow4erf imd 41 L ibe " lUFrtfc order '* of a modern, 
toil^. 

* At)!i«o«i. laeRtlotieA bf Fllnri lib. itlv. mod - ' oew cmlltd 



To-morrow I sail for those cinnAinon froroat ' 
Where nighily the ghost of the Caml>«« roves, 
And^ far from thti light of tboii ^e% I may yet 
Their alluremeiit« forgitie ttd tiwir ii|ileiidottr ^- 
g«t. 

Farewell to Bermuda ', and long m»T the bloom 

Of the lemon and myrtle its v^leyt perfume ; 
May ^ring to eternity hallow the ihtwk. 
Where Aiiel baa warbled mid Waller^ baa stray 'd. 
And tbon— when, at dawn, thoa shjill happ^ii to 

roam 
Throngh the Ume-corered alley thai kada to thy 

home. 
Where oft, when the d^ncse and the revel were dooe^ 
And the ^tart were beginnmg to fade in the fian, 
I have led thee aloog^ and hnre told by tlie way 
What my heart all the night bad been bamtng to 

Bay — 
Ob i think of the piiat — give a sigh to those times. 
And a blessing for me lo that alley of lim^s. 



If I were yonder wave, my dear. 
And thon the isle it cituips aronnd, 

t would not Jet a foot come near 
My land of bliss, my fairy groimd. 

If I were yonder eoucb of gold. 

And thou the pearl within it pliic^d, 

I would not let an i'jc behold 

Tbe sacred gem my firms embraced. 

If I were yonder orongextree, 

And thou the blosfiom blooming there, 
I would not yield a breath of thee 

To scent the most imploring air. 



the Miit^tell (i mufcarom (eHi),'* uji l^clrallitt, book L 
lect. L chflp. 17* 

7 1 hnd. At tbli tinici, ■omg Idea of pajlng a thic to the 
W«t Indira. 

* The tnhabluntt prtmooncie the aaiti*? ai if U were wrltlan 
B^rniuoda, S«i»lbe cnmmctitatmt nn tho wordi ''ctlU-teK^d 
ncrrnombea,^^ In thtt TcropptE.' — t itond^r It did ont occur to 
lomi; of ihoie alt-f cAdli^n eoiitLemvn ihtit, poulblj', the dli* 
cment of thlt *'■ WatkA orlioft «nd detlli'" mlabt haw bc«a 
nolrii a porfoneLfe than tbe great Jubiii B^rmudea, vho* about 
the ume period (tlie hcg^ttiiittj* of tE]« ■{.ireonlb cti^turjr), vju 
KPt farrlarch of thd Latin chijtch t^ Ethloiiia, and hu liH 
ui mmt wonderfid itdriei ai the AtQatoni and the GrltBiii, 
whE^h he cmcouotAred. •^ TrawrtM qf tkt Ji'mitt^ vol> I. 1 am 
afraid, howerert U wouM ta^ Iho F^trtorcb rather totr nmcb 
out of hli^af. 

^ Juhiuon do«* not thtnk that Wal ler wii trrcr at B^i-inuda i 
but the " Actount of tho Eurofica^n S«ttleniflntf ju Amctlca" 
•fflruoa It cooHdenllir', { Vol, II.) I menlimi thit worl, l!(iirrr«r, 
I HI for Itt autheirltf than for tbe pleaiuxe 1 feej In ^uotlai 
an i»iitckiio«ted««d produ^yjon of tti« grieat £<|inuiMl Biij^«. 





( 




"i 




116 MOORE^S WOIiKS. 




Oh ! bend not o*er the water's brink, 


How sweet to behold him, when bum on the gale. 




Give not live wave that odoroiu ugh. 


And brightening the bosom of mom. 






Nor k't iU burning mirror drink 


He flings, like the priest of Diana, a veil 






The soft reflection of thme eye. 


O'er the brow of each virginal thorn. 
Yet think not the veU he so chillingly casts 






Thttt gloflsy hair, that glowmg cheek, 


Is the veil of a vestal severe ; 






So pictnrd in the waters seem. 


No, no, thou wilt see. what a moment it lasts. 






Thut I could ghidly pltinge to seek 


Should the Snow Spirit ever come here. 






Thy image Id the glassy stream. 


But fly to his region — ^lay open thy zone, 






Blest fatel at once my chilly graTc 


And he'll weep all his brilliancy dim, 






Aud nuptial bed that stream might he ; 


To think that a bosom, as white as his own, 






ril wed thee in it* mimic wavet. 


Should not melt in the daybeam liJte him. 




« 


And die upon the shade of the^ 


Oh ! lovely the print of those delicate feet 






Behold the leafy mangrove, bonding 

O er the waters blue and bright. 
Like Nea*s silky lashes* lending 


OVr his luminous path will appear — 

Fly, fly, my beloved I this island is sweet, 

Bat the Snow Spirit cannot come here. 






Shadow to her eyes of light. 
Oh, my helov*d ! where'er I turn, 










Some trace of thee enchants mine eyet i 


Errmt/9m U ««J«i;(urrtti qt^ur. mtu i, n fut t**fdjk rn njr^, Mr* 






In e%'ery star thy glances hum ; 


Icem, 17. lib 11* 






Thy blush on every flow 'ret lies. 


I rroLJS along the flowery bank, 






Nor find I in creation nugbt 


\MiiIc many a beading seftgrape ^ drank 






Of bright, or beuutiful,, or rare, 


The itprinkle of the feathery oar 






Sweet to the KeoKe. cir pure to thought. 


That wing'd me rcmnd this fairy shore. 






But thou art found relU-cled there. 


'TwBS DOOQ ; and every orange bnd 
Hnng languid o'er the crystal floods 










Faint as the lids of maiden's eyes 








When love-tliougbts in her bosom rise. 






TlfE 


Oh, for a naiad's sparry bower, 






SNOW SPIRIT, 


To shade me in that glowing hour \ 






No, ne'er did the ware In its element steep 


A little dove, of milky hue, 








Before me from a plantain flew. 






It bh>om» in the giant embrace of the deep, 


And* light along the water's brim. 






Like Hebe in Ilercules* arma. 


I steer'd my gentle bark by him j 






The blush of your bowers is light to the eye. 


For fancy told me, Love had sent 






And their melody halm to the ear j 


This gentle bird with kind intent 






But the fiery planet of day is too nigk, 


To lead my steps, where I should meet^* 






And the Snow Spirit never comes here. 


I knew not what^ but something &weet. 






The down from his wing is Hi white m the pearl 


And — bless the little pilot dovel 






That shines through thy lipa when ihi-y part. 


He had indeed been sent by LoTe. 






Ajid it falls on the green earth as melting, my girl, 


To guide me to a secne so dear 






As a murmur of thine on the heart. 


As fate allows but seldom here ; 






Oh! fly to the clime^ where he pillows the death. 


One of those rare and brilliant hours;, 




^^K 


As he cradles the birth of the year; 


That, like the aloe's^ lingering flowers. 




^^v 


Bright are yoar bowers and balmy their breath. 


May blossom to the eye of man 




r 


But the Snow Spirit cannot oome bete. 


But once in all hi« weary span. 






I Th# •««•»# vt in«ii«T«T« grape, m Mltw of thm W<it 


but 11 it quite inin cnoiigH for po^rj. Plato» I iblnk, allinrs 




H 


lii4io«. 


a poti lo be ** ihre-e rctnotci from truth ; ** wftrmrwit mm rm 




1 




«X^AMtf . 




1 


I - 


i 


1 



POEMS RELATING TO AMERICA. 



117 



JvMt when the marge's op'ning thade 
A Tialm liram the WBten made, 
Mj bod icpoi^d hit nhrer plume 
Upon a ridi litiiaiia*li bloom. 
Oh ^ffinon brii^l oh ^irit fair! 
Whatt qpdOt wbat magic rais'd her there ? 
Twaa Nea ! ahmiVring calm and mild. 
And bloomy as the dimpled child, 
Whoae ^irit in dytimn keeps 
Its playfbl sahbadi, while he sleeps. 

The broad banana's green embrace 
Hung shadowy roond each tranquil grace ; 
One tittle beam alone could win 
The lea:ves to let it wander in. 
And, stealing orer all her charms. 
From Up to cheek, from neck to arms. 
New lustre to each beanty lent, — 
Itaelf all trembling as it went ! 

Bark lay her eyelid's jetty fringe 
Upon that cheek whose roseate tinge 
Mix'd with its shade, like eyening*8 light 
Just tooching on the yerge of night 
Her eyes, thoogh thus in slumber hid, 
8eem*d glowing through the ivory lid. 
And, as I thought, a lustre threw 
Upon her lip's reflecting dew, — 
Soeh as a night-lamp, left to shine 
Alone on some secluded shrine, 
May shed upon the yotive wreath. 
Which pious hands have hung beneath. 

Was ever vision half so sweet I 
Tlunk, think how quick my heart-pulse beat, 
As o*er the rustling bank I stole ; — 
Oh I ye, that know the lover's soul. 
It is for you alone to guess. 
That moment's trembling happiness. 



A STUDY FROM THE ANTIQUE. 

Behold, my love, the curious gem 
Within this simple ring of gold ; 

'TIS hallow'd by the touch of them 
Who liv'd in classic hours of old. 

Some fair Athenian girl, perhaps. 
Upon her hand this gem display'd, 

I SooMwhat lOu the tymplegmm of Cupid and Psyche at 
FlorcBot, ia whfch tbe position of Pfjche's hand it finely and 
ialliiatnl/ «mpranl?e of aflbctton. See the Museum Floren- 



Nor thought that time's succeeding lapse 
Should see it grace a lovelier maid. 

Look, dearest, what a sweet design I 
The more we gaze, it charms the more ; 

Come — closer bring that cheek to mine. 
And trace with me its beauties o'er. 

Thou seest, it is a simple youth 
By some enamour'd nymph embrac'd — 

Look, as she leans, and say in sooth. 
Is not that hand most fondly plac'd ? 

Upon his curled head behind 
It seems in careless play to lie, ' 

Yet presses gently, half inclin'd 
To bring the truant's lip more nigh. 

Oh happy maid ! too happy boy ! 

The one so fond and little loath. 
The other yielding slow to joy — 

Oh rare, indeed, but blissful both. 

Imagine, love, that I am he. 

And just as warm as he is chilling ; 

Imagine, too, that thou art she. 
But quite as coy as she is willing : 

So may we try the graceful way 

In which their gentle arms are twin*d. 

And thus, like her, my hand I lay 
Upon thy wreathed locks behind: 

And thus I feel thee breathing sweet. 
As slow to mine thy head I move ; 

And thus our lips together meet. 
And thus, — and thus, — I kiss thee, love. 



AaisTOT. BMetor. Ub. iii. cap. 4. 



Th£R£*s not a look, a word of thine. 

My soul hath e'er forgot ; 
Thou ne'er hast bid a ringlet shine. 
Nor giv'n thy locks one graceful twine 

Which I remember not. 

There never yet a murmur fell 

From that beguiling tongue. 
Which did not, with a ling'ring spell. 
Upon my charmed senses dwell. 

Like songs from Eden sung. 

tlnum, torn. U. tab. 43, 44. There are few tuhfecti oo whtdi 
poetry could be more interestinglj emi^oyed than in Uluatrat- 
lof some of these ancient ttatoei and font. 



118 



MOORE'S WORKS. 



Ah ! tliat I could, at once, forget 

All, all that haunts me so — 
And yet, thou witching girl, — and yet, 
'J'o die wore sweeter than to let 
The lov'd remembrance go. 

No ; if this slighted heart must see 

Its faithful pulse decay, 
Oh let it die, rememb'ring thee. 
And, like the burnt aroma, be 

Consumed in sweets away. 



JOSEPH ATKINSON, ESQ. 

FROM BRRUUDA. > 

" TiiK daylight is gone — but, before we depart, 
** One cuj) «liall go round to the friend of my heart, 
" The kindest, the dearest — oh I judge by the tear 
** 1 now shed while I name him, how kind and how 

! doar." 

I 

' 'Twas thus in the shade of the (.'alal)ash-Tree, 
^Vitll a few, who could feel and remember like me. 
The charm that, to swwten my goblet, 1 threw 
M'as a sigh to the past and a blessing on you. 



> IMiikrrlon hn« RAld Hint "« funnX history and description 
or till* llrniiiiil.iH iiiiKlit airnnl n ploAking atidition to the gro- 
Kra|iliiriil lihi.iry i " but thrn> ctTtninly uro not materials for 
Kill h n uiirk 'I'hf iiliuid. sUh'o tlio tiino of its di«covory, ha« 
r\|MMli'iuTil M> vrry Irw \ii intltiidrii, the |»€H)|»U' hare t>ocn to 
lii'lolrui. nn«l thi'ir triuli* no llinltrd, that thi'n> it hut littiv 
hIiIi-Ii iIii> liiMtmiiUi I'oulii ani|ihiy Into iiii|>ortam*r ; and, with 
ii-.|K»t to ihi- ii.iturul |iriHluctiiiitt of ilu« country, the few 
i»lil«ll the iiil).tl>lt.-inta (an lie induced to culti\ate are t4t 
cnuApft In till- Wtft IniUiii, that tliryha\i> Imimi de^crilMHl 
hy e\eiy natmalmt who hat written any account of those 
lul.-iniiii. 

It in oi"!fn .'K-iTteil hy the trans- \ilantlr politiciaiiii that this 
Utile I oh my di »rr\ v* more ,-tttentl<)n from the mother-country 
than II nnelveji, and It certainly poc^'x^e* ad^anlAjre* of 
situ.-tliiMi. to which we -houhi not he limg insensihle. if it were 
iini-i' ill ll:<> h:uiil« of an eiiciny. I wai toiti hy a cclrh* atetl 
frii'iid ol \Va»hinirlon. at New York, that they had formrtl a 
plan fur |t« rapture toward* the conclusion of the American 
War; " with ilic intrnilDii (a« hv ex pressiMl himself) of maklii}.* 
It a III "t III hiMiii tH io| the nniioy.ince of Hritiah trade in that 
|Mil fi? iIh* wotIiI." And thru* U no doubt it lii-s »o cmi. 
\t nil-Ill li iMilirit.iik tothe\Vr«t liidh'i, that an enemy mitiht 
with i'.x'v louviTt It into a ver) li.ii.issinR imp«*dimcnt. 

Till' I I mill lll*h.<p lli'ikrlry foraodleitent Herinud.i.where 
AiiiiTir.iii i.iiaKi* niJK'ht In* coinert'tl and etlucatttl, thmixh 
ciuii-uiml ill hy ilir iiovcriinifiit ol the «lay, was a wild and 
nil Ifis kiN'cuUtlitn. Mr. llnniiltnn, who wat gOTernnr of tlir 
!•■ I •nine \iMis >iiice. pro|HMiii. If I mUtaku not. the csta- 



Oh ! say, is it thus, in the mirth-bringing hour. 
When friends are assembled, when wit, in full 

flower. 
Shoots forth from the lip, under Bacchus's dew. 
In blossoms of thought ever springing and new — 
Do you sometimes remember, and hallow the brim 
Of your cup with a sigh, as you crown it to him 
Who is lonely and sad in these valleys so fair. 
And would pine in elysium, if friends were not 

there I 

Last night, when we came from the Calabash - 
Tree, 
When my limbs were at rest and my spirit was free. 
The glow of the grape and the dreams of the d:iy 
Set the magical springs of my fancy in play. 
And oh, — such a vision has haunted me then 
I would slumber for ages to witness again. 
The many I like and the few I adore. 
The friends who were dear and beloved before, 
But never till now so beloved and dear. 
At the call of my fancy, surrounded me here ; 
Andsoon, — oh, at once, did the light of their smile.s 
To a paradise brighten this region of isles ; 
More lucid the wave, as they look'd on it, flow'd, 
And brighter the rose, as they gather'd it, glow'd. 
Not the valleys Hensan (though water'd by rills 
Of the pearliest flow, from those pastoral hills, '^ 
Where the Song of the Shepherd, primeval and wild, 
Was taught to the nymphs by their mystical child.) 
Could boast such a lustre o*er land and o'er wave 
As the magic of love to this paradise gave. 



blishmcnt of a marine academy for the inittructi *n of those 
children of West Indians, who miKht be intendiHi for any 
nautical employment. This wat a more rational idea, and Tor 
something of this nature the island it aiiinirably calculated. 
Hut the plan should lie much more exii>n«ive. and cmbr.ice a 
general system of etlucation ; which would rrllcTc the colonists 
from the alternative to which they are redin-cd at present, 
of either tending their tent to Kn;{huid for instruction, or in- 
tniAting them to colleges in the states of America, where 
Ideas, by no means (avuurablc to Creat Uritain, are very scdu- 
lousiy inculcateil. 

The women of lU'rniiida. though not generally handsome, 
have an afl\H-tionate languor in their l<K>k and maimer, which 
is always interesting. What the French imply by their 
epithet aimiiHtt se<*ms rery much the character of the young 
Ilerniudian girls — that pretlis|)osition to loving, which, with, 
out U'ing awiikeiieil by any particular object, dilRises itself 
through the general manner in a tone of tendcrne:<s that never 
faiU to fa<cinate. The men of the inland, I confe«s, arc not 
very civih-etl j and the ohl philosopher, who imagined that, 
after thi.-. life, ini n would be changed into mulct, and women 
into turtle-dove^, would find the initamorphotit in tome de- 
gree .intici|utvd at Hermuda. 

* Mtiuntains of Sicily, ui>on which Daphnit, the flrtt in- 
ventor of bucolic poetry, was nursed by the nymphs. See the 
litely description of thfM' mountains in Diodorus Siculut, 
lib. iv. 'H|MM ymi «f i; asirjt n;* SajsiX.ms ims, A ^mn mmXXu, 
m. T. K. 



PQEKS BELATIN6 TO AMERICA. 



119 



Bbth &e gwdeo a blaA or the laadMtpe a luie ? 
Or ikiMi tbcra a Tina m mtare or art, 
LikediaftvliifliiLovoopettliro'tlioeyo to the heart ? 

AIm, thai a Tiiion to happj ahonld Aide I 
That* when mommg around me in brilliancy play 'd, 
Tht ram aad die itream I had thought of at night 
Should iCill he belBre me, milhdingly bright ; 
While the ftiendi, who had aeem'd to hang over 

theatveam. 
And to gather die roeea, had fled with my dream. 

Bat lookt where, all ready, in failing array. 
The hark that* a to earry theae pages away, i 
fm|iatienfly flottera her wing to the wind. 
And will eoon leave theae ialeta of Ariel behind. 
What hiDawa, what galea if fhe fiited to profe. 
Ere abe deep in the lee of the hmd that I love I 
Tet pifaaanf the ewell of the billows would be, 
And die roar of those gales would be music to me. 
Rot the tEBaqailleat air that the winds ever blew, 
Hot the aonnieat tears of the summer-ere dew, 
Were aa sweet as the storm, or as bright as the foam 
Of the surge, that would hurry your wanderer home. 



THE 

STEERSMAN'S SONG, 
w amaw aboard thi boston frioatb 28th april. ' 



Wheh fipeshly blows the northern gale, 

And under courses snug we fly ; 
Or when light breezes swell the sail, 

And royals proudly sweep the sky ; 
*Loogside the wheel, unwearied still 

I stand, and, as my watchful eye 
Doth mark the needless fidthful thrill, 

I think of her I love, and cry, 

Port, my boy ! port 

When calms delay, or breezes blow 
Right flrom the point we wish to steer ; 

When by the wind close-haul'd we go, 
And striye in Tain the port to near ; 

I think 'tis thus the fiites defer 
Hy bliss with one that's fiir away, 

I A fiiip. ready to nJl for England. 

> I kit Bcnnuda In tbe Boston about the middle of April, 
Ib camfaoj with the Cambrian and Leander. aboard the Utter 
of vhkii was the Admiral, Sir Andrew Mitchell, who dlrldes 
his year be t wa en HallCax and Bermuda, and Is the very soul 
af lucial/ and good-Mlowshlp to both. We separated in a 
tnr difB. and the Boston, after a short cruise, proceeded to 
KavToik. 



And while remembranee springs to her, 
I wateh the sails and sighing say. 

Thus, my boy I 

But see the wmd draws kindly aft. 

All hands are up the yards to square, 
And now the floating stu'n-sails waft 

Our stately ship through waves and air. 
Oh ! then I think that yet for me 

Some breeze of fortune thus may spring. 
Some breeze to waft me, love, to thee— 

And in that hope I smiling sing. 

Steady, boy I 



TO 

THE FIRE-FLY. 3 

At morning, when the earth and sky 
Are glowing with the light of spring. 

We see thee not, thou humble fly 1 
Nor think upon thy gleaming wing. 

But when the skies haye lost their hue. 
And sunny lights no longer play. 

Oh then we see and bless thee too 
For sparkling o'er the dreary way. 

Thus let me hope, wheYi lost to me 
The lights that now my life illume. 

Some milder joys may come, like thee. 
To cheer, if not to warm, the gloom ! 



TO 

THE LORD VISCOUNT FORBE& 

FROM THI CITY OF WASHINGTON. 

If former times had never left a trace 
Of human frailty in their onward race, 
Nor o'er their pathway written, as they ran. 
One dark memorial of the crimes of man ; 
If every age, in new unconscious prime. 
Rose like a phenix, from the fires of time, 

' The lirely and Tarjlng Ulumlnation, with which these 
flre-flies light up the woods at night, gives quite an idea of 
enchantment. ** Puis ces mouches se d^veloppant de l*obaca- 
tM de oes arbres et s'approchant de nous, nous les voylons 
sur les orangers rolsins, qu'ils mettolent tout en feu, nous 
rendant la vue de leurs beaux fruits dor^ que la nolt arolt 
ravle," ke. ftc. - See VUittoire 4e$ AnHUet, art. 1. ciMp.4. 
Ur.i. 



120 



MOORFS WORKS. 



To wing lt« waj tmguided and alone, 
The futttre smiling and tbe past unknown ; 
Then ard<*nt man would to himself be nt?w, 
Earth at his foot and heaven vithin his view : 
Well might the novict; hope, the sanguim? Bchem« 
Of full perfectioo prompt his daring dreamy 
Ere cold oxperietice^ with her veteran lore. 
Could lell bim, fooU had dreamt a* much before. 
But, tracing m we do» through age and clime. 
The plans of virtue midst the deeds of crhnef 
The thinking follies and the reaflomng rage 
or m:in« at once the idiot :ind the sage ; 
When still we »w^ through every varying frame 
Of urtii and polity, his course the same. 
And know that ancient ftxtls but died, to make 
A spuce on earth for modem ftwls to take j 
Tiji strange^ how quickly we the past forget ; 
That Windom's self should not be tutor'd yet. 
Nor tire of watehing for the monstrous birth 
Of pure perfection midst the sons of eftith I 

Oh I nothing but that soul which God has given » 
Ctmld lead us thus to look on earth for heaven j 
O'er dross without to fihed the light within, 
And dream of virtue whiJe we see but sin. 



Evim here, beside the proud Potowm;ic*s stream, 
Might sages still pursue the tiatt ring tbeine 
Of days to come, when man shall coaqaer fate, 
Rise o'er the level of his mortal state. 
Belie the monuments of fhiilty paat, 
And plant perfection in this world at last I 
** Here," might they «ay, •* shall power's dividend 

reign 
" Evince that patriots have not bled in vain. 
•* Here godlike liberty's herculean youth, 
** Cradled in peace, and nurtur'd up by truth 
" To fiill maturity of nerve and mind, 
" RImll crush the giiints thai bestride mankind. ^ 
" Here shall religion's pure and balmy draught 
" In form no more from cups of state be qtyiff*d, 
•* But flow for all, through nation, rank, and sect, 
" Free us that heaven itn tranquil wavct reflect 
** Anmnd ihe columns of the public shrine 
•* Shall growing arts their gradual wreath intwine, 
*• Nor breathe corruption from the flow*ring braid, 
•* Nor mine that ikhric which they htoom to shade. 



> TUu* SfrjTte. " Il4*r« th<* Mrlcnoei and ttie art* of cfiri- 
tbed life are |o recvtvo lh«tr htsHrf t tmproTcroenu : liere 
elfU anil r«h|k}ii* UlMirIf srw tu Aourlth. uncli«<li0d by the 
I oTelvtt or occlrtUriic*! tytmuy : liof« g«niui, 
aidadi by sit tb« laapro v«nai)t4 of fprmar ajtm, jj to b« excrtrd 
In Inimnnliinf miuiliind, in vxpAmtlng «nd mHcl^lQg their 
ntki)<d« vfltli rcll|{UMU And phdotophlcal knowledge*," Ac. Ac 
— I*. ?.6fi. 

« *< WiMt «U1 br at* old «t« of IhU foramiMOl, If It t« 
ikuf Mrtr il^rrpu } '' »itch »»• (li« ramsfli of Fsnrlwt, thc 




" No longer here shall justice bound her view, 
" Or wrong the many, while she rights the few \ 
** But take her range through all the social frames 
** Pure and pervading as thut vital 0ame 
*" Which warms at once our hi.^&i and meanest pari, 
** And thrills a hair while it expands a heart 1** 

Oh golden dream I what soul that loves to sean 
The bright disk rather than the dark of man, 
That oims the good, while smarting with the HI, 
And loves the world with all its frailty still, — 
What ardent bosom does not spring to meet 
The generous hope, with all that heavenly heat. 
Which makes the soul unwilling to resign 
The thoughts of growing, even on earth, divine ! 
Yea, dearest friend, I see thee glow to think 
The chain of ages yet may boast a link 
Of purer teifiure than the world has known, 
And fit to bind us to a Godhead's throne. 

But, is it thus ? doth even the glorious dream 
Borrow from truth that dim, uncertain gleam, 
Which tempts us still to give such fancies scope, 
As shock not reason, while they nourish hojie ? 
No» no, believe me, *tis not so — ev'n now, 
While yet upon Columbia's rising b«>w 
The showy smile of young presumption plays, 
Her bloom Is poisou'd and her heart decays. 
Even now, in dawn of life, her sickly breath 
Burns with the taint of empires near their death j 
And, like the nymphs of her own withVing clime, 
She's old in yonth, she's hlnsted in her prime.^ 

Already han the child of Gallia's achool 
The foul Philo60phy that sins by mle. 
With all her train of reasoning, danming arts, 
Bt^got by brilliant bends on worthless hearts. 
Like things, that (|uickeQ after Nilus' fto^Ml, 
The venom 'd birth of sunshine and of mud,— 
Already has she ponr'd her poison here 
O'er every chanu that make^ existence dear -, 
Already blighted, with her black'ning trace, 
The op*Qlng bloom of every social grace. 
And all tho«e courtesies, that love to shoot 
Round virtue's stem, the llow'rets of her frxiit 

And were these errors but the wanton tide 
Of young luxuriance or tmchnaten'd pride ; 



Frmch irifniitcr at PhHodi'lphlA, in that fknow dsipatrk to 
hl« ^Tc^mmem, i»bkb vat lntera«pt«Ni bf<m» of our eralstrs 
In tbe fetr ITM. This curlout oiemorial ouij t>Q Ibund tn 
FotvoplBO*! Worki, vol. i. p 270, It rmMlnt a itrlkltis 
noonawnt of republican fntrigui^, cm oae *iAe aad republican 
prolllKaf^ on the oUi«r j and i would r«c«>inio«ud Ih* p^rtital 
of It lo rverj botiMt t^otltlclan, who roaj latxMir uiklcT a tno> 
mmt'i drlniloQ with rripvct tu the puHtf of Amrrtcan 
patrtoilMn. 



1 



POEMS RELATING TO AI^IERICA. 



121 



The fervid follies and the ^iult« of sucli 

A* wrongly feel, because they feel too much ; 

Then might experience make tlie fever leas, 

Nay, graft a virtue on each warm excess. 

But bo; *tU heartless, speculative ill, 

All yotith'B transgreBsion with all age's chill ; 

The apathy of wrong, the Ixwom's ice, 

A slow and cold fttagnation into vice. 

Long has the love of gold, that meanest rage, 
And latest folly of raiin's sinking age, 
Whi<?K rarely vcDturing in the van of life, 
While nobler passions wage their heated strife. 
Cornea fkulkiog last, with selfishnefis and fear, 
And dies, collecting lumber in the rear, — 
Long has it palsied every grasping band 
And gniedy spirit throiigh this bartering landj 
Tiini*d life to traffic, set the demon p>ld 
So loose abroad that virtue's self m sold, 
And conscience, truths arad honesty are made 
To rise and fall, like other wares of trade.' 

Already in this free, this virtuous state, 
Which, Frenclitnen tell us, was ordained by fate. 
To show the world, what high perfection springs 
From rabble senators, and merchant kings, — 
Even here already patriots kurii to steal 
Their private perciuisites from public weal, 
And, guardians of the country's sacred fire, 
Like Airic's priejtts, let out the flame for hire. 
Those vaunted demagogues, who nobly rose 
From England*! debtors to be England's foes,* 
Who could their monarch in thtir purse forget, 
And break ailegiunce, but to cancel debt,^ 
Have prov'd at length, the mineraFB tempting 

hue. 
Which makes a patriot, can unmake him too.* 
Oh I Freedom, Freedom, how I hate thy cant ! 
Not Eastern bombast, not the savage rant 
Of purpled madmen, were they number 'd all 
From Roman Nero down to Russian Paul, 



> ** Kotii rofoni que, dan* ie* payi oil Von nVit ftfTtttg 
que d« Tesprit de commerce, o<i traOquo dc loiitpi Ips actioni 
iiumA$DM tt dfl toutei I PS vertiti matfdttt" ^ Montt$^uieu, 
4e r Esprit 4tt Lots, Ut.kx. chap. 2. 

> 1 tru»t I «lajiil not be fuipcctrd of n wi»h to jujitiff tboM 
*TbUniry tUrpc of ihe EagUsh gmrprumpm which th* colonic* 
ftntTHi It fo ueceiiarT to rciiit ; my ocily object hrrc ii to ex- 
pt»c tl>« •elfl«h motive of loroo of the leaiLIng: AmerlcAn 



* Tftw mul pcnevcirfng cfiemy to th« lotcr«tt4 of thft 
, imoiOKAt the polUicians of the western world, has 

a m Y Iranian incirhant, who, flndinf It euicr to t^Hi\ti liU 
BihaD hli dctHit wai odo of the firit l^ii raUe the 
I ag^^ntt GrcAt DHlain, wid has ercr tlnce <>ndea- 
t to fetmg« upon the whole cisiuiUry thtj otjUfatloni 
vlhlcll he Ikt under to a few of it» merchautt. 

* Sat Porcopiiie'* accovuit of iJie PenntylirMiia Injiiirrecttoti 



Could grate upon my ear so mean, so base. 
As the rank jargon of that faetiotis race. 
Who, prxir of heart atid prodigal of words. 
Formed to be slaves, yet struggling to be lords, 
Strut forth, as patriots, from their negro-marts, 
And ihout for rights with rapine in their hearts. 

Who can, with patience, for a momjcnt see 
The medley mass of pride and misery. 
Of whi[^ and charters, manacles and righta, 
Of slaving blacks and democratic whites,^ 
And all the piebald polity that reigns 
In free confusion o'er Columbia's plains ? 
To think that man, thou just and gentle 0(41 
Should stand before thee with a tyrant's rod 
O'er creatures like himself^ with souls from thee. 
Yet dare to boast of perfect liberty; 
Away, away — Td rather hold my neck 
By doubtful tenure from a Bultau's beck, 
In dimes, where liberty has scarce been nam*d. 
Nor any right btit that of rtiling claim'd. 
Than thus to live, where bastard Freedom waves 
Her fustian fltig in mockery over slaves ; 
Where — motley laws admitting no degree 
Betwixt the vilely slav'd and madly free — 
Alike the bondage and the licence suit,. 
The brute made ruler and ihc man made bratc. 

But, while I thus, my friend, in flowerkss song, 
So feebly paint, what yet I feel »o strong, 
The ills, the vices of the land, where first 
Those rebel fiends, that rack the world, were nurst. 
Where treason's arm by royalty was nerv'd* 
And FrcnchmcD leam*d to crush the throne they 

served — 
Thou, calmly lullM in dreimis of classic thought. 
By bards ilium In 'd and by sages taught, 
Pant'st to be all, upon this mortal scene. 
That bard hath fancied or that sage hath beeo. 
Why should I wake thee 7 why severely chase 
The lovely forms of virtue and of grace, 



In I7M- In ihort, aee I'orcuplnp'i worki throughout, for 
ample eorrolK) ration ofcrery ientimciit which t have TPn^ured 
to exprcffl. In taylng thl»^ I refer \e%% to the ttinnmcnU of 
that writ<fhr ihaii Co the occurrf^ncet which he hiu relatetl and 
tlie dfKutnenU which ht> hai prciervcil. 0)tiniun niaj bo 
Mi«pecte4 of blu, btit facti ftfu'^k for tlieoiiyt'lifci. 

^ (n Virginia the eJfbcti f^f tbit cyitein tie^gin to h« felt 
rather •eriouiiljr. WhUe the mActcr rave« of liberty, the tlnra 
cannot butcatch the cckp taction, and accordingly there leldom 
elapiei a month without loino alarm of injiurrccilon antonfftt 
the oeirroe*, , The acccMJon of Louitiaiia, (t U feared, will 
incrciue thlt embArmument ; as the niimerouft emlgri^IotiA, 
which arc «xp«cted tc» take place, from the louthern fttatet lo 
tfaic newly acsqulrcd terrltoTy,^ wili coniiiderably dlmtniiii the 
white population, and tbui atrenKthen the proporttoa of ae- 
gTO«*, to A degree whkh muiit ullimately be rutnoui> 





122 



MOORE^S WORKS, 



That dwell before thee, like the pictures spread 
By Spnrtjui m^troos round the genial bed, 
Mooldiag thj fimcy* and irith gradual urt 
Bnghfning the youag oonceptions of thy heart 

Forgive me, Forbes — and iboold the song de- 
stroy 
One generous hope, one throb of fiocial joy, 
One high pulsation of ihe zeal fur man, 
Which few can feel, and bless that few who can, — 
Oh ! turn to him, beneath whose kindred eyefi 
Thy talents open and thy virtues rise, 
Forget where nature has been dark or dim, 
And proudly study all her lights in him. 
Yes, yes, in hun the erring world forget, 
And feel that num majf reach perfection yet 



TO 

THOMAS HUME, ESQ, M-D. 

raoai Tai ctrr of wA*nT{(0T0M. 

H^. Xewopuomt. EriiE«, Ef^hctiac. lib. t. 

*TiB evening now ; beneath the western star 
Soft sighs the lover through his sweet segar, 
And fills the ears of some consenting §he 
With puffs and vows, with smoke and constancy. 
The patriot, fresh from Freedom's councils come. 
Now pleased retires to lash his slaves at home ; 
Or woo, perhaps, some black Aspasia^s charms. 
And dream of freedom in his bondsmaid'g arms. ' 



1 Tlie ** \i\Ack AffKuU ** of tlac prr^^ut ••••••••• of tbw 

tJollcd Stale*, later ATprti<Ue« l(j«i>i i^ottB«lniaiiympha«. h(^« 
glT«a rite^to much (tU'Auiitry among Uir imtl-democrat ii1t» 
In America, 

• " On Ui« orl|rlna1 location of tli# f ro^iivl ti^w altitltcd for 
tha Mat of tliB Foacrnt City (lAyi ^' ^ ,],,, (fIrntkiJ 
tpot on which the oipUnt now *Xmv.\ ^ ^me. I'lih 
«ll««;ii!Mtc> (» rpUtod bj inanjr ju a « ,.,iic of the 
^t1 ' 4>r*' <if ttiU rltf, MlkUh k¥ lo Iw, m tt irerr, a 
u^- ~* WVWi Truf^h, Idler W. 

' A iiiu, .Lfi^niB run* tliiOTigli ih« elljr. which, wUh In* 
lOlffSlkl* sllbrtation. thejr huve ttfted the l|h«r. It »«* 
oHglaatIf calhNi ^«o«>•^-^r«•^l( , 

* ♦* To ba QKNter iImp ecccMlly of ioJtig tlirmnrh a A*rp wi^ai) 
Ihr mia or two mllaa, (tarhafM. tn oMl«r la m« « neKt.tloor 
gt(»loiLi<.>ijr ..Li.j lit tUt\ mumt! eitj, U aciirloiM and, I |>cljr«e, a 
Bi.H - HV/< Ictt*^ Ir. 

i (I Muiit be CAllcd a elf; ) hai ciot l»aan 

I jiicrr^ucfi ^incf Mr, W>y tUtliKl U, Mo*t af the public 
I, Wlildi vpra then In come di^ri** Df forwArtlriM*, 
n fltnm iiuarlr ■u«[Hiv4iii Th* hotel H airMnly a 
rxLin I a frnt part of 1 1 * '*n In, aad Iha looni Sr* 

UH to be oreuplHS gr ^ i i»e otlamMw 0eoCeb and 

triiih emlfraala« The I'l^nucTit ■ houM, a f^^rf nobia irrtfte* 
Ivrv, Ji bf BO maant mttfld to Hm pldlOM»^lcal Itumillij' of 



In fancy now, beneath the twilight gloom. 
Come, let me lead thee o'er this " second Rorael"* 
Where tribunes rale, where dusky Davi bow, 
And what was Goose- Creek once is Tiber now *:— 
This embrj'o capital, where Fancy sees 
St^uares in morasses^ obelisks in trees ; 
Which second-sighted seers, ev'n now^ adorn 
With shrines nnbuilt and heroes yet nnbom. 

Though nought but woods * and J — n they see. 

Where streets should run and sages ouffhi to be. 

And look, how calmly in yon radiant wave, 
The dying snn prepares his golden grave. 
Oh mighty river I oh yc banks of shade ! 
Ye matchless scenes, in nature's morning made, 
While stilU in all ih' exuberance of prime, 
She pour'd her wonders, lavishly sublime, 
Nor yet had learn 'd to stoop, with humbler care. 
From grand to soft, from wonderftil to fair ; — 
Say, were your towering hills, yonr boundless floods, 
Your rich savanna.^ and majestic woods, 
WTiere bairds should meditate and heroes rove. 
And woman charm » and man deserve her Jove, — 
iih say, was world so bright, but born to grace 
Its own half-organised, half-minded race^ 
Of weak barbarians, swarming o'er its breast, 
Like Tcrmin gender 'd on the lion*s crest ? 
Were none but brutes to call that soil theu* home. 
Where none but demigods should dare to roam ? 
Or worse, thou wondrous woridl oh ! doubly worse. 
Did heaven design thy lordly laud to nurse 
The motley dregs of erery distant clime, 
Each blast of anarchy and taint of crime 
Which Enrope shakes from bt^r perturbed sph4;re. 
In fiiU malignity to rankle here ? 



it* prrsonlpottriitDr, whr>inhal>its biU Aromcr I I n 

hlmiclf, and abandons the r^«t to « stAtc «if n. 
Utfon, irbkh ihoie who are not phllutopbrrf c . . , . . ^^ jx 
tvithuut rejH'et. TbU gnuid edlttcc U cticlrrled tj>- « rvtj t\tde 
pilings ttirougb which a cmnmoti t\iU\c «iUe Introducca the 
TlaUen of the Urtt mni) In AmerltA. With reapevt to all that 
it nithiii ttiKi bii4tiM>. 1 »l>all liniuta* ibe pruilcnl forh«ajra<ie« 

The private buadtiigt etbibit the Mae dtaricterialk ila- 
pUjr of arroiraiH tpcrulAtlun nnd premalurv nila i and llM Amt 
rang ea o( bouaet whkh were beguti intne fvxr* ago have r^ 
maioed lo long wa«te aud uDanUHe«l, that tbvy *ine now tar 
tli9 mcfft part dUapldau-d. 

* The picture which Dm i>4ve drawa ol 

the Am«flca.n Indian, thi" if, aa far aa t 

cati Judge, mueb fnofewirii i 4Ug reprpaani* 

eltoni whkh Mr> Jeflertou bu givfn u». s«e the Noiea on 
Virginia, whi^re thi« gmtlcmao eud<>4iraiiiir« tn dUpvvte tii 
gvtieral the opinfoQ ntaintaJned lo tiro:; 
•ofjhirri that nature (aa If r. Jeffbtaon r 
her proiluctloD* in Una wtatam world. M > r ^tiiitei 

tba ImperfiKtkn of autroal tile la Anti^rk^ <im Uw riivNgei «f « 
fwFf rveeoDl delafe, IVooi wboa« efircts ii|wu iii Ml «mI aU 
moaplwra It baa not yet auAdeotljr rffotrrr^. « lt»TVr«l«l 
at I lota. 1. pi 103. 



FOEMS RELATING TO AMEKICA, 



123 



But hold^ — obaerve yon Uttie mount of pines, 
Wliere tlie breese murmon and the Er^^-flj ihines. 
Thei« let tfajr f^cy nise, lo bold relief, 
TW «eiilpfliir*d image of that YctcrmD chief ^ 
Who lost the rebers id the hero's name, 
And climb'd o'er profitmte loyalty to fame; 
Beneaih whose iword Columbia's patriot train 
Cam off their monarch, that their mob might rtngn. 

Hem shall we rank thee ap<m glory's page f 
Thpo toore than soldier and just less than sage t 
Of peace too fond to act the conqueror's part. 
Too hmg is camps to learn a 8tat«smati*s art, 
Ifatiirv design*d thee for a hero's mould, 
BiK* ere she cast thee* let the stuff grow cold. 

While loftier soals conunand, nay, make their 

Tby^ fiite made thee and forc'd thee to be great. 
Vet Formne, who so oft, m blindly sheds 
Her brightest halo round the weakest heads, 
Found tkee ondaxzle<1, traji«}uil as before, 
Prood to be uief^l, scorning lo be more ; 
Less moT*d by glory's thon by dutj's claim. 
Renown ilie meed, but self- applause the aim ; 
All that Lhou wert reflects less feme on thee, 
Far Icsa, than all thou didst /or bair to fn: 
Nor yet the patriot of one land alone, — 
For, thine*s a name all natifjns claim llicir own j 
And every shore, wh ere brea i b 'd th e good and bra v e, 
£cho*d the plaudits thy own co[mtry gave. 

Kow !n4ik, my friend, where faint the moonlight 
falls 
On yonder dome, and, in those priDcelj halls, — 
If thoQ canst hate, as eur^ that i»oul mu^t hate, 
Which loves the virtuor,s, and reveres the great, — 
If lhou eanst loathe and execrate with me 
The poUonons drug of FrL-neh phikisuphy, 
TbAt nauseous slaver of thcve frantic tiii)e«« 
Wirh which false liberty dilutes her cirimes, - 
If thou hast got, wiihin thy freeboru breast, 
<hie pul!*e that beats more proudly thim the rest. 
With honest scorn for that inglorious soul, 
^%liieh creeps and winds Ijenenlh a moh*s eoutrol. 
Which eourts the rabble's smile, the rabble's nod, 
AdiI makes, like Egypt, every beast its god. 



*> On a ■mal) hill n<sir tlie capltol thiTC ii to he nii c^tJts- 
trisR cUtJUi of Ccncr»l Waihington. 

« (n ttie i^ttn «t which the French revolution ciitJlistl 
■mnns thf* ilernorrnti of AitJvricA, nnd (he liccntfoua srinpntliv 
«Irh vhleli they iharnl in thi^ w(ldir«t cxco»'A(>« or JacoMnlAn, 
m*' iD^y Hod un^ftourre of UiAt vtilgarity ot vlec, thM hfjctihty 
to all I be gmce* ot M(f. which dUlinKuiihei the pnpsent di'ina- 
fogoai of the t^dfled Slate*, nnd hu becnni^* liidtNi'd Um ftvnv. 
niif th* rharact«riilk of their couttiryiiien. But ihrre h 
«MiCh«r emte of Che curmption of private inorali, wlildi, en- 



There, in those wodls — but, burning tongue^ forbear I 
Rank must he reverenc'd, even the rank that's 

there; 
So here I pause — and now, dear Hume, we part : 
But oft again, in frank exchange of heart. 
Thus let UB meet, and mingle converse dear 
By Thames at home, or by Potowniac here. 
O'er lake and marsh, through fevers and through 

fogs. 
Midst bears and yankees, democrats and frogs, 
Thy foot shall follow me, thy heart and eyes 
With me shalt wonder, and with me despise.* 
T»\"hile 1, Bs oft, in faney's dream shall rove, 
With thee eon versing, through that land I love. 
Where, like ike air that fans her fields of green, 
Her freedom spreads, unfever'd and serene ; 
And sovereign man ean condescend to see 
The throne and laws more sovereign still than he. 



LIKES 

WRITTEN ON LEAVING FtOLADELFHIA. 

SoracKTL. (Edfp. Cohm. tr, 76«. 

AxoNE by the Kchuylkill a wanderer rov'd, 
An{l bright were its flowery banks to his eye ; 

But far, very far were the friends that he lov'd, 
And he gazVl od its flowery banks with a sigh. 

Oh Nature, though blessed and bright are thy rays, 
O'er I he brow of rreatlon enchantiugly thrown. 

Yet faint arc they all to die lustre that plays 
In a fiuiile from the heart that is fondly our own. 

Nor loug did the soul of iho stranger remain 

rnhlest by the smile he had laufrulsh'd to meet; 
Though scarce did he hope it would soothe him 
again. 
Till the threshold of boiue had been prest by bis 
feet. 

But the lays of his hoyhmxl had stol'D to their ear. 
And they lov'd wjjat they knew of so humble a 
name ; 

coura;;pd 0,9 It t» Uj the goT^^nmrnt, and lilnntllled with th« 
inlprciti of the cimnmiilty, ■ccmt lo thrcnlcn thederjijrof All 
hnneit prlinctjiiU- in Arnerica. t alluile Ut tho^o fr.itKliil(}n( 
vlcilutioru urnt'Utrditf louthlch thr^j nri? Iiidebtcd for tbomMt 
hjcrattiTP ('Art of their ronitnprcc, nndi by which thfy hare lo 
lonjf infringi'it and cnwntprwcteil the Wfirtilme nghts ntid nd- 
vnnti^iicp* nf thi* country^ Th!i unwnrrantublc trnile ia imcct* 
ftrthly abetted by fucli a lyflem of coHujIun^ imposture, and 
|verjiiry, ^t csinnot fail to ipreod rapid cronumlnallon Arouiid 
It. 








1 



MOORE'S WORKS. 



And they told him. with flattery welcome and dear, 
That they found in Ills heart sumethiug better 
than ftitue* 

Nor did woman — oil woman! whose form and 
whose mxil 
Are ihe spell and the light of taeh path we pur* 
sue I 
Whether simn'd in the tropic* or chiU*d at the 
pole, 
If woman be there, there is happiness too :^— 

Nor did fihe ber enuDOnriiig magic deny, — 
That luiigic his heart had relinquish'd so long, — 

Like eyes he had Iov*d was her elot|Ui?nt eyis 
Like them did it soften and weep at his song. 

Oh, hlest he the tear, and in memory oft 

May its sparkle be shed o'er the wand*rer'B dream j 

Thrice hlest be that eye, and may passion as soft, 
As free from a pang, ever mellow it^ beam J 

The stranger is gone^ — hut he will not forget, 
^Vhen at home he shall talk of the toils he has 
known, 

To tell, with a sigh, what endearments he met, 
As he strayed hy the wave of the Schuylkill atone. 



LINES 

wiirrmi at 
I GOHOfl, OR FAIX8 OP THB MOHAWK RTYiIB< ^ 

Oil cr« fn loeo o«e t" udla *l rlmbumUi 

Dyir acq,ua Daktv. 

From rise of mom till set of sun 
I've seen the mighty Mohawk run ; 
And as I mnrk'd the woods of pine 
Along bis mirror darkly shine, 
Like Call and gloomy formfl that pass 
Before the wisard^i midnight gloss s 
And OS I viewed the hurrying pooe 
With which he ran his turbid race. 



' Thvns If a drrarjr ami uriifrr cTiander in th* cntintrf' 
ImmKliiittvly atiout thne Falli, wbirb i* mmli mou^ tn har- 
OUMIJF vvllh tli« wildoou of lurK a te^snc th«n tbc rultiratedl 
UaU fa tha nciflilKHirUncid of Niagara Scfi the tUnv\ng of 
thrai In Mr» Wald'B book. Arrordlng to hlni, th^ pcrp»- 
t of the Cfthm F«iU li dfty fc«t ; but the Maninls 

Tb« iBm ralnboir, wlil^li (• conilntMllj fornilnf and dU' 



Rushing, alike untir'd and wild, 

Through shades tlmt frown d and flowers that 

smil'd. 
Flying by every green recess 
Til at woo'd liim to ite calm caress, 
Yet, sometimes turning with the \iind, 
As if to leave one look behiod, — 
Oft ha%'e I thought, aud thinking aigh'd, 
How like to thee, thou resllesi tide. 
May he the lot, the llib of him 
Who roams along thy water*» brira ; 
Through what alternate wastes of woe 
And flowers of joy my path may go ; 
How many a sheltered, calm retreat 
May wno the wliile my weary feet. 
While SI ill friirsuing, stiU unblest, 
I wander on, nor dare to rest ; 
But, urgent as the doom that calls 
Thy water to its destiti'd falls, 
I feel the world*8 bewild'ring force 
Hurry my heart's devoted course 
From lapse to lapse, till life be done, 
And the spent current cease to run. 

One only prayer I dare to make. 
As onward thus my course [ take ;^ 
Oh, be my falls as bright as thine ! 
May heaven's relenting rainbow shine 
Upon the mist that circles me. 
As soft as now it bangs o^er thee 1 



SONG 



TllK EVIL SPIRIT OF THK WOODS.* 

Qtm rrliii dkOScllU, quai|ito mit rta nalla. 

Ovm, hft^nm. IIU. U!. t. 737, 

Now the vapour, hot and damp. 
Shed by day's expiring lamp, 
Through the misty other spreads 
ETery ill the white man dreads ; 
Fiery fever s thirsty thrill 
Fitftd agnfi^s shivering chill I 



tolring, tM the ijmj Hli(« Into tb^ Itjt'ht of the itin, h p<*rtiapt 
tba motC IntcTvttlngr t»cautj irhteh tli<«v ^ond^rful catikracu 
exhibit. 

* The Idea of tbli povm occurred to nu; li» paiiing through 
the vary drcarf irild«rDeai bMarepfi Batarta, a new wttlffinmt 
In tbr ttildct of th« wood*, and the IKtl« Tillage of BuHklo 
upon LaL« Er1»« Thli ft (he mo«t Catigtiiof part of lb* 
route, In traTeUinrf through ttip Getiette cmmirj to Nhtgam. 




POEMS RELATING TO AMERICA. 



]25 



Hark ! I betr tfae triTeller'i tong, 
As he winds die woodi along ; — 
Ohrisdan, "tis tlie bong of f4*ar ; 
Wolre* are round thee» night ii near, 
And ilie wUd thoa dar^at to roam — 
Thiiik, tiras onee the Indian'a home I ■ 

Hiih«r« wpritesi who love to hann* 
"Wheresoe'er yoa work yoar charm, 
Bj the creeks, or by the brakea, 
Whers the pale witch feeds her snakes. 
And the cajman^ Loves to creep. 
Torpid, to hk wlntr}^ sleep ; 
Where the bird of eorrion ^iu, 
Ajid the ihitdd'riog morderer sita, 3 
Looe beneath a roof of blood ; 
While upon his poisoti'd food. 
From the corpse of him be slew 
Drops the chill and gory dew. 

Hither bend ye, turn ye hither, 
Eyes that blast and wings ihat wither 1 
Grow the wandYing Chiistian'i way. 
Lead him, ere the glimpse of day, 
Many a mile of mad'ning error. 
Through the maze of night and terror^ 
Till the mom behold him lying 
On the dmnp L'tulh, pale and dying. 
Mock him, when his eager sight 
Seeks the cordial cottagt^-light ; 
Gleam then, like the Lightning-bug, 
Tempt him to tbe den that's dug 
For the foul and famish 'd brood 
Of the she -wolf, gaunt for blood ; 
Or, unto the dangerous pass 
O'er the deep and dark morass, 
Where the trembling Indian brin^ 
Belts of porcelain, pipea, and rings, 
Tributes, to be bung in air. 
To the Fiend presiding there 1 ^ 

Then, when night's long labour past^ 
Wilder*^ ^^U he falls at last, 



* ** The Fire Cotifederalcd Vationa (ot [ndiant) wer« 
•ettlid mitnig the banki at the Hmiiiinhjiniiah and the adjucent 
eowitry, until the jpat T779t wticu Gen<!fal Sulllrant with ao 
array of 40iJO m«MJ, drove them from their conn try to NiAgaru, 
vhert!, bi'ing obMi^tM] to If^c on laliwl pravUtont, to which 
they verr unaccu»tomtd, great ciiimb«ri o( them dle<l. Two 
luiadnMl of tbem, k i* mj4. were tntrbd In oti» f rare, where 
Chiy bad encamped." — Morse' g dmeriean O^ogmftkjf, 

* Tbe ttJligntor, who U •upposvd to lie In a torpid iitiitc ail 
the wlnlKT, In the haDk of tome creek or pond, liavling pre- 
-riotfilf fwallowccl a Urge number ot plne-knoli^ which are 
hlf only tQfteRiQcc during the timr. 

' Thl« waa the modeof punishment for murder <n«Charle- 
vglm !«))• uft)«n»otig iho Uuroni. ^' They laid the dud bodj 



Sinking where the causeway's edge 
Moulders in the slimy sedge. 
There let every noxious thing 
Trail its filth and fix its sting ; 
Let the bull -toad taint him over, 
Round bim let mosquitoes horer» 
In his ears and eyeballs tingling. 
With his blood Ibeir poison mingling^ 
Till, beneath tbe solar tirc% 
Rankling all, the wretch expires I 



TO 

THE HONOURABLE W. R. SPENCER. 
FROM nvrrALo^ upon lake erie. 

Kec Tenit «d duroi miua vocata Getas. 

Ovin. es Ponio, lib. I. cp. 6. 

Thou oft hast told me of the happy bours 
Enjoy M by thee in fair Italia's bowers. 
Where, lingVing yet, the ghost of ancient wit 
Midst modern monks profanely dares to flit, 
And pagan spirits, by the pope unlaid, 
Haunt every stream and sing through every shmle. 
There still the bard who (if his numbers be 
Histongne's lightceho) must have talk'dlikethee,^ 
The courtly hard, from whom thy mind has caught 
Those playful, sunshine holidays of thought, 
In which the spirit baskingly ruclines, 
Bright without effort, resting while it shines,— 
There still he rovc*t and laughing loves to see 
How modem priests with ancient rakes agree j 
Row, *ueath the cowl, the festal garland shines. 
And Lore still finds a niche in Christian shrines. 

There still, loo, roam those other souls of song. 
With whom thy spirit hath commun'd so long. 
That, quick as light, their rarest gems of thought, 
By Memory *s magic to thy lip are brought 



upon polei Bt thd top of a cabtti, and tbe murdererwu obiigrd 
to remain lereral dayi lopreiher, md to rec«»JiTe jkll Ihat dra|ipDd 
from thft carcajt, not only on himu'K ijul on hl« food/' 

^ " W© And *l*o collar* of porcetHln, tt»b«ceo. ran of malie, 
iklni^ ftc. bf Ibc iLde of difficult «nd d.ing^^eroui 'mayt^ on 
rocka, or by tbo iidA of Che falU; mid ihrikn uru ta tnAnjr of- 
ferbig* wade to the tplrid wblrh pr^iidt* in these pliicM/' — . 
S«e Ckartevoiy* Letter tm the TraditionM and ^A^ Heiigtom qf 
the SattnffM qf Canada. 

Fnther Hennepin too mentbni thii cerecnonj ; he also iif t, 
" We tonk ticitlco of onf* bArltarian^ who tnad«f a kind of 
■Acrifice ujMjn »n oak «t the CMcade of Si. Antony tjf Padtia, 
upon the rlrer Mliatitlppi.'*'^ Bee Henm-pin'a fojfage imio 
NortM AtfWrica^ 



126 



MOOBE'S WORKS. 



But here, aln* t hy Erie's stormy lake. 
As, far from «ucli bright hiiunts my courae 1 take» 
No proud remembrance o er the fancy plays, 
No elussic dream, no star of other dayM 
Hath left that visionary light behind, 
That lingVing radiance of inmiortj.il Piind, 
Which gilds and hallows even the rucltst st'ene, 
The humblest shed, where genius once has been I 

All thut creation's varying moss assumes 
Of grand or lovely, here a&pires and hloonifi ; 
Bold rise the mountains, rich the gardens glow. 
Bright lakes expand, and conquering 'rivers flow; 
But mind, immnrtal mind, without whose ray, 
This world's a wilderness and man hut elay, 
Mind, mind alone, tn barren, still repjAC, 
Nor blooms, nor rises, nor expands, oor flows. 
Take Christians, Mohawks, democrats, and all 
From the rude wig- warn to the eongress-hall, 
From man the savage, whether slav'd or free. 
To man the civilii'd, less tame than he, — 
'Tis one dull chaos, one nnferlile strife 
Betwint half'polLsh'd and half barbarous life ; 
Where every ill the ancient world could brew 
Is mix'd with every grossness of the new; 
Where all corrupts, though little can eotice, 
And nought is known of luxury', bat its vice I 

h this the region then, h this the clime 
For soaring fancies? for those dreams sublime, 
Which all their miracles of light reveal 
To heads that meditate and hearts that feel? 
Altti I not so — the Mnae of Nature lights 
Her glories round ; she scales the mountain heights. 
And roams the forests ; every wondrons spot 
Bums with her step, yet man regards it mot 
She whispers round, her words are in the air, 
But lost, (inheard, they linger freezing there, * 
Without one breath of soul^ divinely strong. 
One ray of miad to thaw them into song. 

Yet, yet forgive me, oh ye sacred few, 
Whom late by Delaware*! green hanks 1 knew i 
Whom* known and lov'd through many a social eve, 
'Twaa bliss to Mve with, and 'twas pain to leave,' 

i ThU cpUhtft w»» mjfp^fd by Ch»rl*Tolit'i itrlkln«r de- 
tfr\pl\on of the crniAiicnto or the Mlttourl with the MJaits* 
■lin^l, *' T In»IE<-i*i« tMi U the fitif«t cnnfluencc h) the world. 
Tb« two Hvrr* atp much of the i«ine brvodth, &teh abmit half 
AtcHiruot but tli« MI»»OiiH t« hj Ut the roo«t rapid, and Mwmi 
%0 •fit«r th<» Mlttkitl|t)il llk« a eomiuiTor, through which it 
eanioa lU whlti warei to Iha oppoflts ihorv, wlthcMJt mining: 
them ( aAcrwardi U give* III Golour to th« Mit«{Mlp|i1, whkch 
It iiav»r lowsi AgalD, liut carrlet quite down to tht mm."^-^ 
t«t(#r xxTlL 

* AlliullDf to tta« fani'irul liolloo of " words ooDgeal«d hi 
iit:iiih«rii air.'* 

i lA the iod«t7 of Mr. Denoi« and hU friend*, al PhtJa. 



Not with more joy the loneJy exile ficanti*d 
The writing traced upoti the desert's sand, 
Wliere hia lone heart but little hopM to find 
fJoe trace of life, one stamp of hnniati kind, 
l^hfln did [ hail the pure, th* enlighten'd xeal. 
The strength to reason and the warmth to feel. 
The manly polish and the illvmitn"d tiiiite. 
Which, — ^*mid the melancholy, heartless waste 
My foot has travers'd, — oh you sacred few ! 
I found by Delaware's green banks with you. 

Long may you loathe the Gallic dross that runs 
Through your fair country and corrupts its sods ; 
Ijong love the arts, the glories which adorn 
Those fields of freedom, where your sires were horn* 
Oh ! if America can yet be great. 
If neither chained by choice, nor doom'd by fate 
To the mob-mania which imbrutes her now, 
She yet can raise the crowned, yet civic brow 
Of single majesty, — ean add the grace 
Of Itank'R rich capital to Freedom's base, 
Nor fear the mighty shaa will feebler prove 
For the fair ornament that flowers above ;^- 
!f yet released from all that jiedant throng, 
So vain of error and so pledg'd to wrong. 
Who hourly teach her, like themselves, to hide 
Weakness In Tajont, and barrenness tn pride, 
She yet can rise, can wreathe the Attic charms 
Of soft refinement round the pomp of arms. 
And see her poets flash the fires of song. 
To light her warriors" thtinderbolts along \ — 
It is to you, to souls that favouring heaven 
Hsis made like yours» the glorious task is given: — 
Oil ! but for HHch^ Culiunbia's days were done ; 
Rank without ripeness, qutcken'd without sun, 
Crude at the surface, rotten at the eorc, 
Her ftTiita would falJ, before her spring were o'er. 

Believe me, Spencer, while t wing'd the hours 
Where Schuylkill winds his way through banks of 

fiowers. 
Though few the days, the liappy evt'uings few. 
So warm with heart, si^ rich with mind they flew, 
That my charm'd wul fijrgot its wish to roam. 
And rested there, as in a dream of home. 

delphla. J p«a»ed tb<f few aRreeablp momvott wtiich toy I'-^ir 
through the Statn atibrdcd me. Mr. Dcnnli? bai tucrprdvd 
In dliVU*lnff Ihrcrufh tttli euU^vatcKl nttle circle (hat 1ot« for 
food Uteratumi and tound polUIr*. whteh he feet* to lealoiulj 
himaclf. and which ii to very rari»ly the characteristic of hit 
couotrfmcti. Th ty will not, I trmt. aceuie me of ill literal it jr 
for th# (jlcture which I hiTc gffen of the ignorance and cor- 
rttption that fturro'und them. If 1 did not hate, ai I otifht, 
the rabhie to whieh iH^'j are oppoi»ed, I could not ralxw, ■• I 
do. ihe iplril with which thcj del^ Itt and In learninf from 
ihrm what Amarkani con Af, I but ■«• with the more tndli- 
natlon wh«t i 




POEMS RELATING TO AMERICA. 



I^ 



1 BMI, like looky rd Ib^d lKi»«, 
- too. wtueh, m tbey ttCBbled o*ci- 
^motf^ tcmadHli Btmnj m ume 

U_ ^^ ^ -re in eoooofd Willi their cvn. 

T«,— w knA tt^H of tlial OQunBkn five, 
*nHt iov 9iht mt , whick I have knonm with thee 
&» flll» ID vsmly ; mghli of mirth and mind* 
Of wfumm that taagl«» and fbUiea thai refio'd. 
Wliea dan wt hc«h fmav lh«m ? vhen, reattw^d 
To ^a ^7 '^••t «Bd ildl cgtM l hoaid, 
ttoll I aaee smik ojoy with thee and thiiw 
Tfcoae wNaM that leaeh, those fbUica diat refiite t 
IBres i>pw. aa Taiid*niv npoo Erie i shore, 

Mamm mamy a mile to jonnief, ere we meef. 

O SAXPfX 'Ql 3DT KAPTA KTN MKEIAN EXO. 



BALLAD STANZAS. 

I msnsw by the smoke, that aa gracefully cnrrd 

Ahore the green elm&, that a cottage wns near. 
And I aaid, ** If there*s peace to be found in the 
vofldt 
** A heart that was hamble might hope for it here T 

II ^WtBOon, and on ftowera thai languish'd aroand 
In **t^>*** repoe'd the voluptuous bee ; 

Everx leaf wia at rest, and I heard not a sound 
But the woodpecker tapping ihe hollow beech- 
tree. 

Ajid, ** Here in this lone little wood^** I exdojoi^d 
With a maid who was lovely to bouI and to eje, 

1 I v^roto tfaene vtmb to «iO alt which CMir boatmea iiuik to 
OS Ireqiiicntlj. The wioi wu »o unraroufAblethAt tbej were 
oblignd to ram «ll th« »Ajr. and w« were five days to defoend- 
iBf the Hfvf from Kington to Montreal, i>xpo*«d[ toM) lnt«ii« 
tUB dufioff Um day^ and ai nisbt forced to take shelter ttom 
IImf 4«wt la my mUenliW hat upon the hankji that would r«. 
, edv* oa. B«it th^ maisulfleeiit tcenery of the St- Lawrence 
rtpiyf all ttich dlftcfiktw. 

Oor wy^fiTMri bad good iroirr<, atid tunf pcrfectTf in tune 
tdc««lk«r. The original word* of the air, to which t adjiftted 
Ibeae ttaiau*, a^pesu-cd to be a long, liicohetvut fiory. of 
«hkli t could ondenUnd hut llttle» tram the barharou* pro^ 
BoadatioQ of ttw Canadiani. It befiiii 

Dan* nKHi cbcmin J'ai rencoutri 
Deux carallen trH^hicD moatcf ; 

And the fxfifoM to everj f erve wai, 

A rombrc d'un boli ^e m'eo vaU Jooer, 
A rombre d'ua boU je m'eti vaia danaer. 

I fffotured to harxDonite thU aJr, and have pobllihed It. 
Wltboat thai cfaano vhlcJi aflaociatlon givei to every little 



' Who woaU Uaih when I prais'd her, and wtep 
iflhlam*d, 
** Bow hiect ooold 1 live, and how eabn oo«dd I 
die! 

By the ihada of jp«i cBDkaeh, whose led berry dlpa 
** In the gnsh of the fountain, how sweet to re* 

cUne^ 
And to know that I sigh'd npcm innocent tips, 
** Which had neirer been ftigh*d un by any but 

mine !"* 



A CANADIAN BOAT SONG. 



TBB kir&a ST. UkWaBNOB.' 

Bl ramlfcn caotua bortitur. 

Qi'isrriUAM, 

Fadttlt as tolls the erening chime 
Our Toices keep tune and onr oan keep time. 
Soon as the woods on shore look dim. 
We'll sing at Sl Ann*s onr parting hymn.') 
Row, brothers, row, the stream nms ^t* 
The Rapids are near and the digriight's past 

Why shonld we yet onr sail unfbrl? 

There is not a breath the blue wave to curlj 
But, Trheu the wind blows off the shore. 
Oh I sweetly veil rest our weary onr. 
Blow* breezvs, blow, the stream runs fast. 
The Rapids are near and the daylight's ] 



Utawas* tide ! this trembling i 
Shall ftee us float over thy surges soon. 



of McfDet or (eellnpi thftt are past, the metody may, 
pcfhaptt he thought cumnioii and tHOlng ; but [ raineinbrT 
when we haire enterefl, at tum<>t, upon one of tho«e bcaullHu] 
lakes, loto which the St. Lawrence lo graodiy sod uaespeet- 
cdlj opcui, 1 have heard tht* limple air with a pleaaure which 
tlio Bnetl compcdUlcrtui of the Or«t ina«i<^r* ha»e n«»er glteo 
xntu, and now there it not a note of it which Aott not recall to 
my mrmarj' the d^por our oart In the Hi. Lawrence, the flighl 
of our boat down the Rapida, and all tht»te new and fancifUl 
knpretvioni to which my heart wai alkc during the whole o( 
thili Tcr; Interectffif voyage. 

Ttie abowc sUnnt are tuppoAed to he f ung by thwe m^^ 
ftwt who go to the Graod Forlige bjr the Utawaa Rtver, 
For ao acojuot of thli wonderful underiaktng. *ec Sir Alex* 
wider llaC!iteDtle*t General llhtnry of the Fur Trad^, jire- 
exed to hia Jounisl. 

s " At tbe Bapid of St. Ann they are obliged to take out 
paxU it not the whole, of their lading. It ia from thia apot the 
CanoitUna eotialder tbey take theJr depnrlure, aa it poaaeatrt 
tlio laat church cin tbeliland, which ta dedicated to the tutelar 
i-aint of ▼oj'ogert."' -* Macicamtc, GcNcrof Hiti^ry <nf tJk F^r 
Tred.\ 




^ 



128 



MOORE'S WORKS. 



Saint of tbii green We ! henr our prayers, 
Oh, grant OS cool heavens and fav^iurlng airs* 
Blow, breezes, blovr, the stream runs fast. 
The E»pidft art near and Ui« dayliglit's past 



TO THE 

LADY CHARLOTTE RAWDON. 

imOH TUB 1AI«K4 Of TIIH ST. LAHKCNCK. 

Not many months have now been dream'd away 
Since yonder sun, beneath whose evening ray 
Our boat glides swiftly past these wooded sbores. 
Saw me where Trent his raaiy current pours. 
And Doolngton's old oaks, to every breexe, 
Whiiper the talc of by-gooe centuries j — 
Thoflc oaks, to me as sacred as the groves. 
Beneath whose shade the pious Persian roves, 
And hearu the spirit-voiee of sire, or chief, 
Or loved mistress, sigh in every leaf. ' 
There, oft, dear Lady, while thy Up bath snng 
My own unpolish'd lays, how proud I've hung 
On every timefUl accent ! pnmd to feel 
That notes like mioe should have the fate to steals 
As o'er thy hallowing lip they sigh'd along, 
Such breath of paaalon and such soul of nong. 
YeiH^I have wonderM, like some pea&ant hoy 
Who sings, on Sabbath-eve^ his strains of joy, 
And when he hears the wild, untuk»r'd note 
Back to his ear on softening echoes float, 
Believes it still aomc answering spirits tone. 
And thinks it all too sweet to be his own I 

I dreamt not then that, e'er the rolling year 
Had fiU'd its circle, I should wander here 
In musing awe; should tread tliis wondrous world, 
See all its store of uihi.nd waters hurl'd 
In one vast volume down Niagara^s sleep. 
Or culm behold them, b inuuparent sleep, 

I ** Avendo «••! (icr covtiimc dii Av<irii In vettenuiioiM) gU 
lattftrt ftiitidi et uitlcht, i^ujut che •t«no vpetio rtcetAaecoti dj 
KUlma bc9tc.** ^ fietro dHia rai/4, part. i«coiui^ lettjera 16 
d« I fUrdlDt dl Sdrai. 

* Arvburrj, In tU* Trarela. ba* noticed thli ibootlng llln- 
mttiotiod «rhlch porpolfcs dlffUM at nigbt Uirouf b the river 
at*tJi«r«nc^. — Viil. f. p. sa. 

* The Klaia-sn^o It brittle tnd trsiuiMreDt* 

* ** t1»t <S«fiarted fplrtt goM Into the CiNUitry of Souli, 
wham, aeoordlnf lo ■oin«,tt It trsnarannvd Into a dmrc/* — 
Ck&rtfj^iQia, ttptm tkt Trmtttton* mmittkf hdtgt^m ttfike Savage* 
^ CmMdH, 8«« tli# ciirloui fiibkt of th« Amwtcaa (Irplteui 
lnLaHiaii. l4Mn.l. |». 4<nt. 

» *• Ttw MMonUiiat ^fmnd to Ixr ii>Hsiktod with wbUw 



Where the blue hills of old Toronto shod 
Their evening shadows oVr Ontario's lied ; 
Should trace the grand Cadaraqui. and glide 
Down the white rapids of his lordly tide 
Through mmsy woods, mid islets flowering fair. 
And blooming glades, where the first ainfiil pair 
For OOCMohition might have weeping trod, 
When baaish'd from the garden of their God. 
Oh, Lady! these are miracles, which man, 
Cag'd in the bounds of Europe's pigmy span. 
Can scarcely dream of, — which his eye must see 
To know how wonderful this world ean be I 

But lo, — the last tints of the west decline. 
And utght falls dewy o'er these banks of pine. 
Among the reeds,, in which our idle boat 
Is roek*d to rest, the wind*s complaiinng note 
Dies like a half-breath'd whispering oftlutes ; 
Along the wave the gleaming porpoise shoots, 
And I can trace him, like a watci^ star,* 
Down the steep cnrrent, iiU he fuies a&r 
Amid the foaming breakers* silvery light. 
Where yoo rough rapidsiparkle through the night, 
Here, as along this shadowy bonk I stray, 
And the smooth glass-^nake "^^ gliding o'er tiiy way. 
Shows the dim moonlight through his scaly form, 
Fancy» with all the scene*s enchatitmeut worm. 
Hears in the murmur of the nightly breeze 
Some Indian Spirit warble words like these •,— 

From the land beyond the sea. 
Whither happy spirits flee j 
Where, rransfomi'd to sacred doves,* 
Many a blessed Indian roves 
Through the air on wing, as white 
As those wondrous stones of light,* 
Which the eye of morning counts 
On the Apallachian mounts, — 
Hither ort my flight I take 
Over Huron's lucid lake^ 
^\^lere the wave, as clear as dew, 
Sleeps beneath the light caooe. 
Which, reflected, floating there. 
Looks as if it bung in air.* 

ftOBCt, which gllftrtird ifi Lbe iud, and were called bf the 
Jndlsat msoetoe aaimiAh, or tplrlt-ttotxt^." — Mocketnif't 
Journal, 

* Thr*o llnnc were itiggr^tted hf Cjtrvrr'i de«erlption of one 
flrf the AcnericsD lakct. " Wh^n It «a« calm," be •Jiyt, '♦ and 
Ihc IUD ilionp brlubt, I could fit In mj canor, wberp th« deptb 
wai upwards of tin fathomi, and plalntj tee hug^ pll» of >tdne 
at the bnttom, of difftr^nt ihap»i, lomo of which appeared aa 
If thpj had been h«wn ; the walcf was at ihlf time 84 pure aod 
truupareiit a* air, and my ranor^tcemtHl m itlt huitif tuapmdvd 
In tliat etf^ment. It woa Impoctihle la look. KtLrntlvrly ChrfMlifh 
thU llmptiJ nifrdium« at lbe rocki below, without Dndlng^ be- 
fore many niluutei were eUpceil, jour bead iwlrn and your 
ffjei un longer nblo to bebotd tbe dasillnf ticnie/* 



POEMS HELATTNG TO AMERICA. 



129 



Then, whtm I hsf* mnfd a wbile 
ifteMtnuhmlmMJc,' 
I m Doij mnoHi, 
tlwwBtmeoatliepliiiBe 
or mj WakoB-Biid •, and tj 
Wheie, hfnwtfh a buniiiig ikj, 
<yer die Iwd of Erie^ lake 




Wnpt wiOin the veb of leaTei, 
Whidi Ibe waler-lilj wcsrea' 
Next I dnte the Ikm'ret-kiiig 
Throagh hit rosy- lealm of fpriiig ; 
See hm& wnr, whik diamoiid hoes 
Soft hie neck and wmgauffnae. 
In the leaiy ehaliee Biik» 
Thintmg for hb Ymbaj drink ; 
Nov bdidd him all oo fire, 
LoTclj in hit looke of ire. 
Breaking everj infimtitem, 
ScatfHng every Tdyet gem, 
Where hit little tyrant lip 
Had not firand enoogh to sip. 

Then my playfbl hand I steep 
Where the gold-thread^ lores to creep. 
Coll firon thenee a tangled wreath. 
Words of magic roand it breathe. 
And the sonny chaplet spread 
Cer the sleefnng fly-bird*8 head,^ 
Till, with dreams of honey blest, 
Hannted, in his downy nest. 
By the garden*s fiurest spells. 
Dewy buds and fragrant bells. 
Fancy all his sool embowers 
In the fly-bird's heayen of flowers. 

Oft, when hoar and silvery flakes 
Melt along the mffled lakes, 
When the gray moose sheds his horns. 
When the track, at eyening, warns 



* Aprte avoir trsTeni pliuleun islet peu contld^rablei, 
BOOS CO traavlnM le qmtridme Joar une fameuse nonunfe 
riste dm Mmltowlto.— Vof^eM dm Baron de LuMomtan, 
Ion. i. let. 15. Bfanatanlin slgnifiet a Place of Spirits, and 
this island In Lake HaroD is held sacred by the Indians. 

> ** The Wakon-Bird. which probably Is of the same 
apedea with the Bird of Paradise, receives iu name flrom the 
Ideas the Indians hare of iU superior excellence ; the Wakon- 
Bird bdng. In thdr langoace, the Bird of the Great Spirit." 
^Jferar. 

* The iainda of Lake Erie are surrounded to a consider- 
able disrance bj the large pond-lily, whose leares spread 
thickly over the surfisce of the lake, and form a kind of bed 
for Iha water.«nakes In summer. 

* " The gold thread is of the Tine kind, and grows in 
avampai Th« roots spread themselves Just under the surface 
afUMSoraaaes, and are easily drawn out by handfuls. They 

tangled skein of silk, and are of a bright 



Weary honters of the way 
To the wig-wam^ ehecring ray. 
Then, akft throogh fkeeaing air. 
With the snow-bird* soft and fkir 
As the fleece that hearen flings 
0*er his little pearly wings. 
Light abore the rocks I play, 
"^liere Niagara*s starry spray, 
Frosen on the cliff; appears 
Like a giant*s starting tears. 
There, amid the island-sedge, 
Jost upon the cataract's edge. 
Where the foot of living man 
Never trod since time began. 
Lone I sit, at close of day. 
While, beneath the golden ray. 
Icy colonms gleam below, 
Feather'd round with fiOling snow. 
And an arch of glory springs. 
Sparkling as the chain of rings 
Roond the neck of virgins hnng,-^ 
Virgins?, who have wander*d yonng 
0*er the waters of the west 
To the land where spirits rest ! 

Thus have I charm'd, with visionary lay. 
The lonely moments of the night away; 
And now, fk^h daylight o'er the water beams! 
Once more embark'd npon the glitt*ring streams, 
Oar boat flies light along the leafy shore. 
Shooting the ftlls, without a dip of oar 
^Or breath of sephyr, like the mystic bark 
The poet saw, in dreams divinely dark. 
Borne, without sails, along the dusky flood,* 
While on its deck a pilot angel stood. 
And, with his wings of living light unAiri'd, 
Coasted the dim shores of another world I 

Tet, oh ! believe me, mid this mingled maie 
Of nature's beauties, where the fiemcy strays 

* ** L'oiseau mouche, groa comme un hannetoo, est de 
toutes couleurs, vires et changeantes : il tire sa subaistenoe 
des fleurs comme les abeilles; son nid est bit d'un cotton 
tr^fln suspendu i une branche d*arbre.*' -- V0ffmgn mms 
Indet Occidentaleg, par M. Bo$$u, scc<mde part. lett. zz. 

• Emberixa hyemalis. — See im/oy's Kentmekp, p. »0. 

7 Lafltau supposes that there was an order of vestals esta- 
blished among the Iroquois Indians. — Mtntn da S at n m gu 
Amirieahu^ ^. tom. i. p. 178. 

" Vedi che sdegna gli argomenti umani | 
Si che remo non vuol. ne altro velo, 
Che 1' ale sue tra liti si lontani. 



Vedi come 1* ha dritte verso 1 clelo 
Trattando 1' aere con I* eteme penne ; 
Che non si mutan, oome mortal pdo. 

Damtb, Pmrgdtar, i 



130 



MOORE'S WORKS. 



From clianii to cbarm, where every flowYet^B Ime 
l!iiih sotnelbmg strange, and every leaf k new, — 
1 never feel a joy «o pure and still, 
So inly felt, at when tome brook or btll» 
Or veteraD oak, like those renieniber'd well, 
Some mountain echo or mmn wiUJ-tlower*® smell, 
(For, Iff ho COB aay by what smiiU fiiiry tiet 
The meiuVy cUugs to pleasure as it flies ?) 
Reminds my heart of many a fiilvan dreiun 
I otioe iDdulg*d by Trent's inspiring Btrcam j 
Of all my sunny moms and moonlight nights 
Oq Doonmgtou'fi green lawna and breezy heighta. 

Wbether I trace the tranquil moment* o'er 
When I have seen thee cull the fruits of lore. 
With him* the poUsh'd warrior, by t!iy side, 
A sisters idol and a nation's pride I 
When thou host read of heroes, trophied high 
In ancient fame, and I have seen thine eye 
Turn to the living hero, while it read. 
For pure and bright 'nlng eotmnents on the dead ; — > 
Or whether memory to my mind recalls 
The festttl grandeur of those lordly boIlH, 
When guests have met around the sparkling boorcLi 
And welcome warm'd the cup that luxury jKiur'd; 
When the bright future star of England'^ throne, 
With magic smile, hath o*er the banquet shone, 
Winning respect, nor claiming what he won, 
Bnt tempering greatness, like an evening sun 
Whose light the eye can tranquilly admire. 
Radiant, but mild, all softness, yet ail lire ; — 
Whaterer hue my recollections lake. 
Even the regret, the very pain they wake 
Is mix'd with happiness ;^but, ahl no more — 
Lady! adieu — my heart has linger'd o*er 
Those Tanish'd times, till ail that round me llefl, 
Stream, bonks, and bowers have faded on my eyes] 



IMPROMPTU, 

AWTKn A VISIT TO MBS. , OP IfONTRCAL. 

VAS bnt for a moment^ and yet in that time 
She crowded th* impreaaions of many an hoar : 
Her eye had a glow, like the sun of her clime, 
AVhich wak'd every feeling at once into flower. 



■ Thli U otiff of the MA|f<lAti>n litAndj, and, iingulju-Jy 
MKiush, l« the prop*rtjf of Sir Itojic Cuffln. The alxtve Itoei 
«p«re iiifgMtcd by ft luperititloji? cry common uvotig Mtlorii 
who call thli shoii-«bt|pi» t tblDk, " th# ll|ing Dutfhman." 

W« wwn tbIrlMQ dayi oq our fwaMftf from QurtMC to 
ttslttes, and I lud b«ea m tpoUod lit ^^ ^ruly iplondld Hoi* 



Oh ! could we have borrow'^d from Time bnt a day. 
To renew sueb imprcfisions again and again, 

The things we should look and imagine and say 
Would he worth gdl the life we had wasted till 
then. 

What we had not the leisure orlangnnge to speak. 
We should And some more spiritual mode of re- 
vealing, 
And, between ns, should feel just as mueh in a 
week 
As others would take a millennium in feeling. 



WHITTfir 

ON PASSING DEADMAK'S ISLAND,' 

IN TI«B 

GULF OF ST, LAWRENCE, 
LATE IN THIS EVEKIKG, SEPTEMQEn, 1804. 

Ske yim^ beneath yon elond so dark. 

Fast gliding along a gloomy bark ? 

Her sails are full, ^though the wind is still. 

And there blows not a breath her sails to fill 1 

Say what doth that vessel of darkness bear ? 
The silent calm of the gniTe is tljere, 
Save now and again a death -knell rang, 
And the flap of the sails with night -fog hting. 

There tieth a wreck on the dismal shore 
Of cold and pitiless Labrador i 
Where, imder the moon, upon mounts of fh^st. 
Full many a mariner's bones are tost, 

Yon shadowy bark hath been to that wreck, 
And the dim blue fire, that lights her deck. 
Doth play on as pale and livid a crew 
As ever yet drank the chiirchyard dew. 

To Deadmon's tsle, in the eye of the blast. 
To Deadman's Isle, she speeds her fast; 
By skeleton shapes her sails are furrd. 
And the hand that steers is not of this world I 



pftftlltir of taf fHeodJ of tht Phutoo snd BoMoa, thai I wai 
but 11) pr^'pATiNl for the tnUrriei of m Caoadlaa rcnel. Tbe 
weather * howeter. wai p]«aU)Dt, and the •cenerf aloof tb* 
river (IcIiKbtfuL Our paiiaf« throufb the Giat of Canao, 
vkh a brlgbi akj and a fair wind, ««• particular I jr itriklng 
and romaotlc. 




POEMS RELATING TO AMERICA. 



131 



Oh I hurry thee on — oh ! horrj thee on, 
Thoa terrihle bark, ere the night be gone. 
Nor let morning look on so fool a sight 
As woold blanch for erer her rosy light ! 



THE BOSTON FRIGATE, » 

on 

LEAVING HALIFAX FOR ENGLAND, 

OCTOBER, 1804. 

N«rffw wft^tutt yXnoRif «». 

PlNUAK. PplJL 4. 

With triumph this mofning, oh Boston ! I hail 
The stir of thy deck and the spread of thy sail, 
For they tell me I soon shall be wafted, in thee, 
To the flourishing isle of the brave and the free, 
And that chill NoTa-Scotia*s unpromising strand'^ 
Is the last I shall tread of American land. 
Well — peace to the land I may her sons know, at 

length. 
That in high-minded honour lies liberty*8 strength, 
That though man be as free as the fetterless wind. 
As the wantonest air that the north can unbind, 
Yet, if health do not temper and sweeten the blast. 
If no harvest of mind ever sprung where it pass'd. 
Then unblest is such freedom, and baleful its 

might,— 
Free only to ruin, and strong but to blight ! 

Farewell to the few I have loft with regret ; 
May they sometimes recall, what I cannot forget. 
The delight of those evenings, — too brief a delight ! 
>Vhen in converse and song we have stol'n on the 

night ; 
When they've ask*d me the manners, the mind, or 

the mien 
Of some bard I had known or some chief I had seen. 
Whose glory, though distant, they long had ador'd, 
Whose name had oft hallow *d the wine-cup they 

poured; 



• Commanded by CapUin J. E. Douglas, with whom I re« 
turned to England, and to whom I am indebted for many, 
niany kIndneMet. In truth. I should but offend the delicacy 
of my friend Douglas, and, at the same time, do itijustice to 
ny own feelings of gratttode, did I attempt to say how much 
I owe Co bin. 

* Sir John Wentworth, the Governor of Nova Scotia, very 
khidly allowed me to accompany him on his Tisit to the Col- 
lega, which they haTe lately established at Windsor, about 



And still as, with sympathy humble but true, 
I have told of each bright son of fame all I knew. 
They have listened, and sigh'd that the powerftd 

stream 
Of America's empire should pass, like a dream. 
Without leaving one relic of genius, to say 
How sublime was the tide which had vanished away ! 
Farewell to the few — though we never may meet 
On this planet again, it is soothing and sweet 
To think that, whenever my song or my name 
Shall recur to their ear, they'll recall me the same 
I have been to them now, young, unthoughtful, 

and blest. 
Ere hope had deceiv*d me or sorrow deprest 

But, Douglas I while thus I recall to my mind 
The elect of the land we shall soon leave behind, 
I can read in the weather-wise glance of thine eye. 
As it follows the rack flitting over the sky. 
That the faint coming breeze will be faiir for our 

flight. 
And shall steal us away, ere the falling of night 
Dear Douglas ! thou knowest, with thee by my side, 
With thy friendship to soothe me, thy courage to 

guide, 
There is not a bleak isle in those summerless seas, 
Where the day comes in darkness, or shines but 

to freeze. 
Not a tract of the line, not a barbarous shore. 
That I could not with patience, with pleasure ex- 
plore ! 
Oh think then how gladly I follow thee now, 
When Hope smooths the billowy path of our prow. 
And each prosperous sigh of the west-springing 

wind 
Takes me nearer the home where my heart is in- 

shrin'd ; 
Where the smile of a father shall meet me again, 
And the tears of a mother turn bliss into pain ; 
Where the kind voice of sisters shall steal to my 

heart. 
And ask it, in sighs, how we ever could part ? — 

But see I — the bent top- sails are ready to swell- 
To the boat — I am with thee — Columbia, fare- 
well! 



forty miles fVom Halifax, and I was indeed most pleasantly 
surprised by the beauty and fertility of the country which 
opened upon us after the bleak and rocliy wilderness by 
which Halifax is surrounded — I was told that, in travelling 
onwards, we should find the soil and the scenery improve, and 
it gave me much pleasure to know that the worthy Govemor 
has by no means such an " inamabiie regnum " as I was, at 
first sight, inclined to believe. 



MOORE'S WORKa 



CORRUPTION, AND INTOLERANCE: 

TWO POEMS: 



iJ>DBESS£D TO AN ENGLISHMAN BY AN tllianvAH. 



PREFACE. 

The practice wliich hu been latt'ly introduced 
into Utemturc, of wrlliug very long notes upon 
Tcry indifferent verses, appears to nit* rather a 
happy invention; os it supplies us with a mode 
of taming dull poetry to account ; and as hors4^g 
too heavy for the saddle ma-y yet serve well 
enougli to draw Imnber, bo Poema of thii kind 
make excellent heafts of burden, and will bear 
notes* though they may not bear reading. Be- 
sides^ the coniinentii^ in such casei are so little 
under the necesiiity of pajing any serrile de- 
ference to the text, that they may even adopt 
that Socrtitic doguia» " Quod supra Doa niliil ad 

tn the UrBt of the two following Poems, I 
have ventured to speak of the ReTolutJon of 
16814, in languiagc which has Bometiincs been em- 
ployed by Tory writers, and which h ikerefore 
neither very new nor popular. But however an 
£nglii«hmnii mighl be reproached with ingrati* 
tude, for depreciating the merits and result* of 
a measare, which be is tanght to ntgard as the 
•tmrce of his libertie*^ — however ungrateful it 
might api>ear in Aldenean 11 — rcb to question 
for a moment the purity of that glorious era, to 
which he is indebted for the seasoning of io 
many orations — yet an Irishman, who has none 
of the«e obligations to acknowledge ; to whose 
comilry the Revolution brouglit nothing but In- 
Jtiry and insult, and who recoltect« that the book 
of MolyneiLK was burned, by order of William's 
Whig Parliament* for daring to extend to unfurta- 
Bftte Ireland tho»e principles on which the Revo- 
lution was professedly founded — an Irishmaniwrty 
be allowed to criticise freely the measures of that 
period, without exposing himself either to the im- 
putatioo of ingratitude, or to the suspicion of being 
influenced by any Popish remains of Jacobitism* 
No nation, it is true, was evi«r bteased with a more 



golden opportunity of estabiisbiog and securing its 
liberties for ever than the conjuncture of Eighty- 
eight preftented to the people of Great Britain. 
But the disgraceful reigus of Charles and James 
had weakened and degraded the national character. 
The bold notions of popular right, which had arisen 
out of the struggles between Charles the First and 
his Parliament, were gradtmlly supplanted by those 
slavish doctrines for which Lcrrd II— keab — ry en* 
logises the ehurchmen of that period ; and ag the 
Refonnacion had happened too soon for the purity 
of religion, so the Revolution came too late for the 
spirit of liberty. Its advantages accordingly were 
for the most part specious and iransitor)', while the 
evils which it entailed are still felt and still iu- 
creasing. By rendering unnecensar)' the frequent 
exercise of Prerogative, — that un wieldly power 
which cannot more a step without alaj'm, — it di- 
minished the only ioLerference of the Crown, which 
is singly and independently exposed before the 
people, and ivhosc abuses therefore are obvious to 
thetr senses and capacities. Like the myrtle over 
ft celebrated statue in Minerva's temple at Alliens, 
it skilMly veiled fh^m the public eye the only 
obinisive feature of royalty. At the same time, 
however, tliat the Revolution abridged this un- 
popular attribute, it amply compensated by the 
substitution of a new power, as much more potent 
in its effect as it is more secret iti its operations. 
In the disposal of an immense revenue and the 
extensile patronage annexed to it, the first founda- 
tions of this power of the Crown were kid j the 
innovation of a standing army at once increased 
and strengthened it, and the few slight barriers 
which the Act of Settlement opposed to its progresa 
have all been gradually removed during the whig- 
gith reigns that succeeded ; till at length this spirit 
of influence has become the vital principle of the 
state, — ^an agency, subtle and unseen, which per- 
vades every part of the Constitution, lurks under 
all its forms and regulates all its movements, and. 




CORRUPTION, A POETIC EPISTLE. 



133 



lik« Out iaTWitile lylph or gnee which pretidei orer 
ilie BKiticHit of be«y[t]f ^ 

" Rim, 4«ieqaid«f1t. q<io%iio vntiflA (BeoUl, 
CoaipovlC fUfftbn • u bt »< tuitimniie»" 

Thm tmOBt of Libcrtf and the Revoluticm are ici 
Inibitiiallf asaociaied in the mind^ of Englislunen, 
thai prohahljr in ohjecting to the latt«r t maj he 
tfaoqght hostile oi' indifferent lo the forroer. But 
•aanredJy nothing coald be more unjuist than sneh 
ft wmfkMOL. The very object, indeed, which my 
Inalile animad versions would attain is, thai in the 
Cffina to which t think CagLand is now hjutening, 
and between which and foreign snbjagation the 
mMj aooa he compelled to choo&e, the errors and 
oauaaicNia of 1688 should be remedied ; and» as it 
Via then her fate to experience a Rerolulion with- 
iiot Reform^ so she may now endeavour lo ac- 
conpliah » Aeform without Revolution. 

la apealdng of the parties which hare so long 
imitated Enghmd, it will be observed that I lean 
aa little to the Whigs as to their adversaries. Both 
^ftioos have been equally cruel to Ireland* and 
fariMpa equally maincere in their efTorls for the 
filwftiei of England. There is one name, indeed, 
eonfiected with whiggism of which I can never 
think but with veneration and tenderness. As 
josdy, however, might the light of the sun be 
claiawd by any particular nation, as the sanction 
of that name be monopolised by any party whatso- 
ever. Mr. Fox belonged to mankind, and they 
have loat tn him their ablest friend. 

With respect to the few lines upon Intolertmce, 
which I have snhjoinedi they are but the impertect 
begiiming of o long series of Elssays, with which I 
here menace my readers, upon the same important 
subject. I shall look to no higher merit in the 
task, than that of giving a new form to claims and 
remonstrances, which have often been much more 
eloqacntly urged, and which wotild long ere now 
have produced their effect, but that the minds of 
some of our statesmen, tike the pupil of (he human 
eye, contract themselves the more, the stronger 
light there is shed upon them. 



ADgtt MOI ac taa ounnU tmpenie mlrantur ; cirteru n*" 
tosteat. — Bofxla^ (« quoted in one of Dry. 



CORRUPTIUN. 

▲N £Pim.a. 

3^ «ir«i rmrTtmt ^' *t i»«h^*JU «« 



wetf ^Arly to {t*\ the oinactt of cnirltj 
• dPjM.*ndenclr». '* Ttie »everltf of \\vt f ofprnment 
(tti9« liaepliffrvoo) contributed morr to df^prlve her of the 
cnotlatntal domlnioai otlhv family ef Tliuitacenet ihiA the 
anns of Frjuice/* — S«« hii Htsiorjf, vo\. i. 

* ** Bf the total reduction of the klD^om of IrrLand In 
|<l»l (layi Bnrkc), th* rulij of the naUve trfih^and In n prrat 
meaMut*^ too, of the llrit men of ttie EnfUfth. wn* rtitnplcteijr 
aecompHthed. Th* n«w l£ngli<h liitt'rett vat tpitlcd wl>th 
w Milld a #t*bilUj ai anj thing hi htimnu niTAirc can took fur. 
All the pen Hi Liw» of th«i unparalkk'U code of iipiir(r»«iun, 



Dttuovn. FkH^. HI. 

Boast on, my friend -- though stript of all hesido. 
Thy struggling nation still retains her pride : ^ 
That pride, which once in genuine glory woke 
When Marlborongh fought, and brilUont St. John 

spoke ; 
Thut pride which still, by lime and shame unslung, 
CKitlives even \\li-tel-cke*s sword and R-wk-s- 

Vry's tongue! 
Boast on, mj friend, while in this humbled isle* 
Where Honour mourns and Freedom fears to smite. 
Where the bright light of England's fame is known 
But by the shadow o'er our fortunes thrown; 
WTiere-, doom'd ourselves to nought but wrongs 

and ilights, ^ 
We hear you boast of Britain's glorious rights, 
Aa wretched slaves, tlmt under hatches lie. 
Hear tho«e on deck extol the sun ajid sky ! 
Boast oUf while wandering through my native 

hauntii, 
I coldly listen to thy patriot vauuts ; 
And feel, though close our wt-dded countries twine. 
More sorrow for my own than pride from thine. 

Yet pause a moment — and if truths severe 
Can find an inlet to that courtly ear^ 
Which hears no news but W — rd's gazetted lieSi 
And loves no politic* in rhyme hut Pje's, — 
If aught can pliease thee hut the gotxi old saws 
Of ** Church and State,"^ and ** William*s maUihless 

laws," 
And **Actsand Rights of glorious Eighty -eight,*'— 
Things, which though now a century out of date, 
Still ser^e to ballast, with conveuieiit words, 
A few crank arguments for speeching lords,'* — 



which were made after thn L-ul eTpnt, were manifettly the 
eflVct* of oatl^Dnat hHtrcd nftd acorn towfwdi a ranquurcil 
people, wboni the rictors detighli^d It* trample upon, and 
were not «t Ail afmtd to proTirke.'* Vet thfi H the er« to 
which the wIm? Cotnrooo Council ©f Dublin refer tin for " Ui» 
raluaiflo blcftiag*,'" ftc. 

« It oever soemi to occur to thote OT«ton nnd iiddreei«rt 
who round off to ttMCkf tentcncei and p«n(igt»t>lit wUh tli« 
Bill at RlerHtt, the Act of Settlerment. kc„ iKnt moit of the 
prorVtloTii whtcfa those Act» contained Tor the prraervktloa of 
p4r1ia.fnenUr7 lndepend«i«e have tweo long laid uldesi ro- 
mantic And tTOuble*arne, I never meet, I confei*, with « 
polillejun who i].uotei lerlrruiljF the Declaration of ttfghti, Ac, 
ro prove the aeliml ciLUtrucr of Etigikh IltMsrtjf, ttij^t I ilia' not 




^ 



134 



MOORFS WORKS. 



Turn, Tvliik I tell how England's iVeedom footid. 
Where most sbe l<JokM fi>r life, her deadlaest 

TTOund; 
Hoir brave she struggled, while her foe wa« leen, 
How faint since Influence lent that foe a screen ; 
How i^trotig oVt James and Popery she prevaiTd, 
How weakly fetl| whcD Whigs and gold assail'd. ' 

While king« were poor» and nil tlio«e Bclietni*3 

uiiknowii 
Which drain the p-eople, lo enrich tbe throne j 
Ere yet a yielding Commons had siippUi.*d 
Those chains of gold by which thctDselres are 

tied \ 
Then proud ProrogmtiTe, untaught to creep 
With bribery's ulvni foot on Freedom's sleep, 
Frankly avow'd his bold enslaving plan, 
And claimed a right from God to trample man t 
But Luther's schism had too much rous'd mankind 
For Hampden's truths to linger long behind ; 
Nor then, wbeo king-like popes had fallen so low, 
Could pope-like kings « escape the levelling blow. 
That |)onderous sceptre (in whose place we bow 
To tlie light talisman of influence now)* 
Tex* gross, too visible to work the spell 
Which modern power performs, in fragments fell; 



think of that BUirqtili, whom Mmitfiquieu mpntlanis who 
wc about lookine for tnlnpf In the P/rrncei, on the ttrcod^]!] 
or iuilhorkl«« whfcb he had rpAd tn tocne Ancient author*. 
The poor marquU tt>il&i and searched In viln. He quoted 
hk» auUi^rltfet lo the ljut» hut Tound no minet after all. 

'^ The chiefs p^rhapt the only «dvuitA|i« which hAi retultcd 
from the f jrtem of influpnctv I* that tranquil courie of unlntor- 
rup(«d mlion which it ha* flren to the adiotnUtraUoD of go- 
TcmtncDt^ If ktnKi mttil l>c paramount In the atate (and tJheir 
nalniftcrt Itor the llmo bHng alwayi think lo), the cmintry 
hi Indrbted to the Resolution for enabling iHnm to b«critn« 
iu quletlft and for rrmoTlng tkilfiilTj the danger of tho»« 
fhockitand irnttUlatii ivhich the aliumlng efforltorprvrDivtlve 
never falted to producn. 

Instead of vain and dUUirljinjr eOtarta to eftablUb that cpt- 
euUtlvebalance of thr ronttktotlon, wrlilch, ]i««-ba|H.ha» never 
flal«t«i but In the poicei of MfxataMititeu and Dc^ l^Xme, a pTn- 
pmidanuiec la now •Uoillf y^MtA lo one of thu three ett^tei, 
which cutHm tba otlior two •InKUt loftpnafhiy, but it ill effLT- 
tualljr. alotif wlUi ll( and cran tlMMifh tlie pAth raaj Irad 
evcoiualljr to dMtnMStloiii. jot Ito i|Md«MJi iimi gliJrd •moc»ih- 
net* aliDoit atoooi far Ibo danger ; andi like Mliton'* t^rldge 
orrr Chao«^ It may be latd to lead, 

*' Smooth, cMMjt litoOUniiire, down lo /* 

* The driyef tinjt eurrefpondence tjM-t«reon Jarai'i L and hii 
*'do« St«eiil«" (th« Duke of Duckinghain), tirhlch we flml 
among th« liardwIfkiC }'ap«ri, tufficieotlyatiuwi. Ifwc wazited 
any auch llhiatratlo<i> Intn what doting. Idiotic brain* tbo plan 
of arbUrar)' power mny rnter. 

* Tacitui ha* eapre*«ed hi* opiiiton. In a poaiofo voty frr- 
^(mnXtj qOOt«d» Lbat ■uch a diJirllKatlon of powor Oi the 
tlMOTy of the RrltUh eonatitution c-ahibiu i* inerdf m aoitjieot 
of bright aptcuUlioo, '* a cjitetn inoro ea*Uy pralaed than 
praciiaod, ipA vbkJii aton could It hapiMn to eal*i, woukl 
eortololjr not ptvft iionoananl t ** ajid« In trulh» a rev Law of 



In fragments laVt till, patch 'd aod painted o'er 
With fleur-de-lys, it ghooe and scourg'd once luore. 

*Twaa then^ my friend^ thy kneeling nation qniifi*d 
Ixingf loagand dtH.'p, the ehurehmun's opiate drmagbt 
Of passive, prone obedience — then Kxik flight 
All sense of man's trne dignity atid right ; 
And Britons slept so sluggish in their chain, 
That Freedom's watch- voice cail'd ahnoot in Tain. 
Oh [England ! England I what a ebaoce was thinCt 
When the last tyrant of that ill-sto.rr*d line 
Fled from his sullted crown, and left thee fVee 
To found thy own eternal liberty ! 
How nobly high, in that propitious hour, 
Might patriot hands have rals'd the triple tower' 
Of British freedom, on a rock divine 
Which neither force could storm oor treachery 

mine t 
Butt DO — the ImninouSf the lofVy plan, 
Jjike mighty Ilulwl, ^eeni'd too lK»ld for man j 
The curee of jarring lougues again wa& given 
To thwart a work which niis*d men nearer hearen. 
While Tories nmrr'd what liVhig* had »carce be- 
gun, 
While Whigs undid what Whigs themselves htul 
douej-" 



England** annali would dttpoie ui lo agree with the great 
hlAtorlan'i remark. For we find that at no period whatever 
hai thU baljini^ of the three etLatca uabted ; tliat lhi« noblei 
predumltiatTd till tha fiolicf of tlmry VII. atid hli turccjiKir 
reduced their weight by breaking op ihe feudid lyiilrm of 
property i that the power of tlie Crown became then tuprt- me 
and atiAoiute, till the bold encro^chnientft of the Comntiknt 
lubverled the faltdr altogether ; that the aUemtite aacend»*ncy 
of prerogative anil privilege dltlracled the pcHod which ful- 
Inwed the Reftoration ; and that, Lastly^ the Act» of I6H4, by 
laying ihe foimdatiati of an unliounded court*influenrp. hare 
tecured a prepnnderanr* to I he Thront', which r*ery ^itrceed- 
ing year IncreasM . So thut the vnunted Drlliah coottUuliun 
hat nei^^r perhapi ealited but In mere ilienry. 

* The mnnarcht of Great Briiajii ean nL-^ver be tufficiently 
grateful for that ftCOOlDiaodatlng tplrlt which Ird itie Bevo. 
Ikiilonary \S'h!gi to gitre away the cruwn. wUhnnut Impoting 
Amy of thc>«eri>fttrftlnt» or ttipuLatloni which other men might 
iiare taken ulvantagv of to fav«* ratilo a mmncitt to enfore** 
and In tho framing of which th^y had to good « model to 
follow as the linnltatJont proposed t>y the Lordc Eunt and 
HAllfan^ id tliie debate upon the ivactusiou Bill. They not 
only condewended, however, toaecept of place*, but took cara 
that the»e dignllict ihould t>e no Impediment to their "votce 
jtotenUal " in afRilr* of legiiktion ; and atthouRh nn Art wai 
uftcr many yean »uiri'rod tt> pati, which by one of lU artirlet 
dliquatificd (»lAceinen Trom Msrring ai memt^ert of the llouae 
of Common!, It wa» ynt not allott«d to InterfietTe with the ku- 
fluencD of the reigning moaarcli.nDr with thalof hla n^tc^taar 
Anne. The purifying claUfc, Indeed, wa« not to taiko «Act 
till after thm daoaaaa of the latt«r toTtrreign, and f he* cry coo- 
fliderati'ly repealed It altogether. So that, ai repreaentatlon 
hoi coulinu-ed ever ftloco. If the king were tfmpie enoagh to 
tend to fof^ign court* amtMutadort who were nio»t of thom In 
the pay of ihofe court*, be would bo iuat a* honettly and faith- 
fully reprMvnIed a* ore bli peofilft. It would t»e indict* (o 
lU tlic faroun whlcfa were conferred upon WilUaoi 




CORRUPTION, A POETIC EPISTLE. 



IS5 



Tbe Ikoor wu loet^ and WiUimm, witb a nnile. 
Saw Freedom weeping o*er tlie imfiaiBh'd pUe 1 

Hence nil the UU jou tofier, — Lence remam 
Sacb galiinf fragmenU of that feudal chma^ ■ 
WhlMe links, Bronnd yon by the Norman fiung, 
Tlkoogh lood'd and broke so ofl^n, still hare 

clnng. 
Bcsoe sly Prerogative, like Jove of old, 
Hii tnnx'd his thunder into ahowers of gold. 



hj tlio«« **«p(Mtif» Wblfs.*' Tbej compl I Dieted blin wlih 
Hie flrat tUf p«iid<m of Ihc Habcoi* Corpiu Act whkli had been 
InivdM dne* tlna eonllrnuiliati of tbat privilejec ; and UiU 
•suDpto ofow Dt^vcrsr'f rdfo bM oat been loit upon Anjr 
of Ilia mteommon, Thaj prMMiCod tbv atdbliihineut of a 

r mj, «nd drculwted la tu d«f<*Qce tbe cclct>itt/«d 
E L«tter," In which II it liisltmat«tl thai England* 
«vm IInd, ta ber booited hour of r«graer«tloo« was orrired 
■t ohA a pltdi of bctton and corruption, that noihlDg could 
kmi^ bcr bi order l>ut, a Whig mlnijtrj and a standing mrmj^ 
Tb<7 ffrfbwd, •■ kmf at they could, to thortra tbe durjitioa 
a } and thoagfa. In the Declaration of Rifhta, the 

r of auch a rtfonn waa acknowU>dtred, they w*re abl«» 
fef vta not UDknowo to modern mlnU tera, to brand thoie aa 
tniton and rvpubUcoai who urged it. * But th« grand ind 
dh yiiguU hing trait of tbelr meoturet wu tbe power th«f b«- 
ttummA on tbe Crown of olnaoit onnikiflalLag tbe freedom of 
•IcdJioa*. — of turning from its courf«, and for ever defiling 
Iboi great atriom of Rc|»r«aeot«tion. wbkh had, own in the 
■oat agllalad peftadi, fctected eotnn featiiret nf tine prostit-v 
kot wbkb, (hNB tbcoeefortb, became tht Pactoiui, the " au- 
' of the court, and serrod aa a mirror of tbe 

I will and popular feeling no longer. We rteed but 
t tfao wrtting* of thai time, to underttand the ottonlih- 
aascfted bjr meaaurei, whiik the practice of a cen< 
Uurj haa rendered not only familiAr but nece»uiry. See a 
pavirpblet colled ** Tb« Danger of mertenary farltiunenti,'* 
lOa t State Tracts, Wilt. HI. voL 11. ; n>« alio " Some Para- 
do««t pre«ent«d ai a New Year'iCifl.'* {Siait Fofms^ifolAll.} 
' The tjut great wound given to the feudal lyBttfni wai the 
Act of the llih of Charle« IL, which «l>olUhed the tenure of 
knlfbt'a fertlce im oopite, and which Blackitonc com pare*, tor 
Ita Military Intueoce upHon property^ to the boaited proviatooa 
oC Masoa Cbaita lt»eif. Yet even in thli Act w« i«« tb« 
1^ of tboi counteracting spirit wiilch bai cnntrlired to 

I every effort of the Engliih nation toward* liberty^ 
Tbe exclution of copyholders from their share of eiectlre 
right* wa» permitted to remain oi a brund of feudal lervitude, 
atid 33 an obiiacte to the ri»e of that strong ei>iiirLtcrhiiIance 
wbicb an equal repreienlation of property would oppi)»e to the 
weight of the Crown. If tbo managers of the Hevoiution had 
been ilnce-re in their wi^hei for reform, they would not only 
have taken thti fetter off the rlght« of elLxrtion, btit would 
bave renewed tbe mode adopted in Crumweli'* time of tn- 
rreai^Lng tbe number of knights of the «hire, to tbe exclusion 
of iho«e rotten inilgnlllcant boroughi, which have tainted tbe 
whole masa of the constitution. Lord Clarendon calls tbli 
roeasutv of Cromweirt " an (Uteration &t la he more warrant. 
•bl« made, and in a better time J' 1 1 formed part of Mr. PJitt'* 
plan in 1783; but PHt's plan of reform was a kind of an> 

I dMunatlc pliece, about as likely to be ever acted as 
n'***Fofwter»." 

* Sk a iMiDphltt pntilUhed In lfi99. «lMm IfM KfnT* rvAuinit m rifa the 
THHHktal But, nllvd *' A nUooatm brtviwn > Ymmhw rf Kent ud a 
RnlK«i| cf « fHiti*."— •' tttmpm. Imj* lii* YwiniBj th* (ivrKlMiun nrrw 
iniOT. wid o^ Dim J tiaiM4 UU s b 



Whoae silent coortahip wins securer joys, ^ 
Taints by degrees, and rains withoat noise. 
WhDe parliaments, no more tho»e eacred thlngi 
Which moke and rule the destiny of kings, 
Like loaded dice by mtuisters are thrown, 
And each new set of sharpers cog iheir own- 
Hence the rich oil^ that from the Treasiuy steals, 
Drips smooth o'er all the CoaBtittitioa*t wbeela, 
Giving the old maehitie much pliant pky,' 
That Coiu't and CommotLS jog one joltleas way. 



* ^^— fore enln toton Iter 

Conireno la praUun Deck 

Auniia per tnedloi Ire latellftes, &e. 

HOSATV 

It would be a taik oot unlnitructlre to trace the historyr of 
Prerogative rrom tbe dote of tts strength under the Tudor 
prince, when Hcorr VU. and his luccessori '* taught the 
people (as Notbaulel fiocon >ays)t> to dance to the tune of 
All4Efliaoce/* to tbe period of the Brk-oluUon, when the 
Throne. In Its attacks upon liberty, ttegao to (ixchange the 
noliy exptoaions of PrerogallTe for the illent and <'ITlL>f*> 
tuol aJr^gun of Influence. In rollowing itt course^ too, since 
that memorable era, we shidJi And that, whll«* the royal 
power hail been abridged In branches where It might be 
made conducke to the interestt of ttie people, it bat been 
telt in full and un»hiickled vigour iLgKiinit almojit every point 
where tbe Integrity of the ct^nstltutlon li vulnerable. For 
iQiitancfi, the power of cbartermg buruughi. to who*e c«pri- 
ciuus abu»e lu the hands of the Stuart* we are Indebted for 
moft of the pres-cnt anurnaliei of representation, mlgl>C, if 
•ufl'ered to remain, have liTsome degree atoned fur its mit- 
chief, by rc*toring tbe old utKrhartert-d boroughs to thfir 
rights, and widening more equiiiiy the Lmsis of the legis- 
lature. But, by tbe Act of tin Ion with Gotland, tlii< part 
of the prerogative was removed, lest Fr«^Nlum should have 
a chaiice of being heitied, even by the ruit of the jpcar which 
bad fgrineriy wautided her. Tlie dangvruu* jMjwer, how- 
ever, of creating p<^era, wiilcb has been so ofti>n cxcrrtscd/irr 
tile government agamtt tlie con*titution^ is *tiil left In free 
and unqunliOcd airtlvlty ; notwltbttandkig the exmnpie of 
that celebrHted Bill fur the Ihnitallon of tltli over-budding 
branch of prerogative^ wbkrh was proposed in the reign of 
George I. under the peculiar sancLimi and recommfudatlonof 
the Crown, but which the Whigs thought right to reject, with 
all that cbaracterisiic delicacy, which, hi general, prevents 
them, whea cn^joylng the iweeis of office tbemsclvei, from 
taking any uncourtly advanCage of the Throne. }t will be 
recollected, however, that the creation of the twelve peeri bjr 
the Tories In Anne's reign (a measure wblch .Swll%, like a 
true pnrty man, di'fends) gave these upright; Whlgi nil posji- 
blie alarm for their lllRTtic*, 

With regard to the generous flt otiout his prcrogatke which 
■elsed so unroyally tbe good king George I., hlntorians have 
hinted thot the paroxysm originated far mure In hoircd to hit 
i^in tboti la love to the conttitutiuti. c Thit, of coarfe, how- 
ever. Is a calumny : no loyal person, acquainted with the 
annals of the three Georgrs, could potiibly lutpeet any on* 
of those gracious mooarchi either of 111- will to his heir, of 
Indlifprencp for the conitltutian. 

* '* They drove to fait (»ay» Wei wood of the ministers of 
Charles 1.)^ that it wai no wonder that the wheels and cha- 
riot broke.** iMemoin^p.^^,) — But thit fatal accident. If 
we may Judge from experience. Is to be imputed far less to the 
f4,»iiy and lmpetuoii>lty of the drlvert,^ than to the want of that 



136 



MOORE'S WORKa 



While Wisdom trembles for the crazy car, 

So gilt,^ so rotten, carrying fools so far j 

Aud tlio dup'd people, bouiiy doom'd to pay 

Tlic simi!* that bribe their liberties away, '^ — 

Like a yoang cagk% who baa lent bis pliunc 

To fledge the ishaft by which he meets bisdocjiu. 

See their own fealhera pluck'd, to wing the dart 

Which rank corruption destines for their heart I 

But soft 1 methinks I hear tbee proudly say 

" Wkut [ shall I listen to ihe impious lay, 

*' That dares, with Tf>ry hccnee, to profane 

" The bright bequests of WjUiam s glorious reign? 

** Shall the gre-at wi&doni of our patriot sirt'S, 

** Whom II — wks— b — ^y quotes and savoury 

B — rch admires, 
« B« ahuider'd thus ? Shall honest St — ^le agree 
" With vlrtnotis R — sc to call us pure and free, 
" Yet fail to prove it? Shall <uir patent pair 
" Of wise state-{K)«t« waste their words m nir, 
" And P — e imhe«ded breathe hia prosperous 

Strain, 
" And C — DQ^— ng take the peopled aense in vain V^ 



luppllng'aU IVora tliD Trea»ury which liai been found «o mi- 
cemry to make a goircmm^nt like that of En^Tjuid run 
■mociltily. Hod Charlet bc«!n *J well provided with thi« 
artlcJ^c u blB tuccettort have been *iacc the tiapfiy Hctiiilu- 
Hut), till Conmon* w&uld never Hiavc m^rrltjc-d from hlra thr 
h«rth appcllatluD of'* tcditioiu rifjerv." but woidd haro been (4« 
Ihey now V9, and 1 Cruft alwa^»wtll \») '* dutiful ComtiKin*," 
*' lojal ComnKnu,'" Stc. &c., and nrould have ^Ivf^n him tfaip^ 
money t or any other sort of m^Jtiey he irijiht batrc fiiAded^ 

> Among; tiio$e aajtiliarle* which the Kevolullon of Ifisa 
marihalled on Cho «ide of the Throne, the bufticar of Poftorjr 
hjia not tieen the Leaft conrctdent and lervioeaible. Thot« 
linikllful tyrant!, Charles and Jamea. to«tjead of proAtlng by 
that uicfkl kubcerrfencf which hw alvayi dittfiaguUtiMJ ttie 
inlnUten of our rcllgioiii catabUihiDent, were to Inrnlunted 
oa to phui the rutu of thii bfit bulwark of their jtoturer. aji>d, 
rooreorer, conned ed their denliriK upon Ihe Church to undli^ 
lliliedir with their lULarki upon the Conttltutiati, thni they 
identlded in t)ve mloda of the pcopli* thi« fntcreiy oJf their n- 
Uylioti aod thetr hb«rtiea. During thote timea, therefore, 
*'^ No Pojwry" waa the watchword of freedom, and served to 
Leep th« poliUc iplrU awake agnloit the invMlona of liigotry 
snd pTero;Tiit!vo, The Revolution, bowcrrr, by remorlnf 
ti I icaloutyt haa produced a reliance otii the orlbo- 

J brotie, of which the Tbruue ha« not failed to 
L i/e ; and tli>e cry of" No Pop<*ry " havlnf thui 

jii«t lu power of aUrmlnir the people againtt th«> inroAiU of 
tite Crown, haa tenred ever lince the very diflVinrnt purpoao 
of •tnnifthailtif the Crnwn a^alnit the preteniionk and 
) of Ibt ptople. 11)6 danger of the Church froro 
I ■nd PralaAdfrr* wu the clitef pretext for the repeat of 
Ihe Trknofal MIL fbr Ihe adoption of a atandlng army, for 
the nuiiMroa>faaptii>lon» of the lUbeoi Corpus Act, and. Id 
ahorl, for all tboae •(ilriled infractinni of the tonftltuiioQ by 
whkh the trignt of the taat century were fo emineiiif)' dlJiin* 
irulbhe*!;. We have aeew very lately, too, how the 'Hi rone ha* 
been enabled, kf the tuif •emcrow wrt of alarm, to Mleet 
It* mlnUlevf f^om «»aof mMf wboMr tenrillty la tbrtr omly 
claim In etevatloo, vA who mtm pledged < If aucb «a altema* 
Uve eovJif arUe) lo take part with the icruplea of the King 
Afalnat tlie tAlfatloo of the empire. 



The people I — ah, th&t Freedom's form should 
itay 
WTnere Freedom's Bpirit lon^ bath passM uw iiy 1 
That u false smile should play around the dead. 
And ^ush the fi'Utures when the t^oul bfttb ied t^ 
Wben Rome bad lost her virluie with her rights, 
When her foul tyrant siit on Cuprece's heighttt^ 
Amid hia ruffian spies^ and doom'd to death 
Each noble niime they blasted with their breath, — 
Even then, (in mockery of ihat golden time, 
When the Republic rose revered, sublime, 
Aud her prtmd jsous, dt^us'd from zoDe to zone, 
Gave kings lo every nation but their own,) 
Even then the senate and ilw tribunes slot*d, 
Insulting marks, to show bow higb the !fliH)d 
Of Freedom flowed, in glory *8 by -gone day. 
And how it ebb'd, — for ever ebb'd away I * 

Look but amnnd — -though yet a tyrant's sword 
Nor haunts our sleep nor glitters o'er our board, 
Thongh bhjod be betttr drawn, by modern qiuieks, 
M'iili Treasury leeches than with sword or axej 



> SometioJy haa »alil, " Quand tout les poete« lefAlent 
tio)'^, ce ne •eraH poj. grand du^umage ; " (mt I am aware 
that thii li not Qt language to be held at a time when our 
Mrtb day ode* and at.Ue-paper« arc wittteD Ity tiivh pretty 
pocti aj Mr. P— e and Mr. C — no — ng. All I wUh l». that the 
letter (entlefUQ wou.ld change placet with liLi brother F— e, 
by whlcli nseMU we ihouM have aomi-'wliai leti proM la our 
odet, and certainly leti poetry in our poUtlct. 

* ** It li a u^amUl {aaM Sir Charlet Medley In Winiaoi'i 
raiga) tbat a govennnent io itek at heart at ourt It thoidd 
look to well la the &ce i ** and Bdnund Burke haa Mid« la 
the preeent rHfn, '* Whan the people ooncetive that Law* and 
tribunal!, and even pcrpular ataembHei, are perverted tnsm 
the endt of their IntLituUon, they And In the*« name* of de> 
generated ettabUihroeoU only new moUvoi to dJACOBLeiitir 
Tlioae bodiM which, whm full ofUfeaad beauty, lay to tbelr 
armt ind were IhcJr Jny and tomlMt, wbra dead and putrid 
beoofiiefiM»r« loatliirjine from remambninoe of former endear- 
roeata."— Tkomgkts am Uttprttmt DignmtenUt 17tO< 

< — ^— Tutor baberi 

Prlqdplt, Auguiti Capreamm In rupe aedeDlli 
Cum grego Chaldara. JuvcKaL. Sai. x. v. 99* 

The lenato ttlll continued, during the reign of Tlberiui, lo 
oionofe all the biulnest of the public ; the money wat then 
and long alter coined by their authority, and e*ery other 
public affktr recetved their unction 

We are told by Tacltut of a certain race of nien« who made 
thennielvct pttrtkulorly u»efu1 lo the Roman etnperora, and 
were tbefefDre called "* hulrumentA regni,** or " court toolt.'* 

From thli It appears, that my Lord« M , C , ftc. ftc* 

are by no meani things of mock^rn Inrrjitimi. 

* There ii lomellLlng very touthing In what Tacltut lelli 
ui nf the hopet that rorivcd In a few patriot botomt, nhfn 
the death of Auguitun waa near approaching, and the loml 
expectation with which tbef already t>egsn '* Iwoa llbertaiia 
Incaaatun dltterere/* 

Accurdlnf to Ferguaon. Caesar 'i Interferenee with the 
rlflhla of election *' made ihe lubreMloti of the republic ntore 
fett than any of the former acta of blc power." — Humam ft«- 
public, tKxik V. chap. 1, 




CORRUPTION, A POETIC EPISTLE, 



137 



Td asj, «aald ercn a pnwtnte tnliitiie'b powcf , 
Or a Bock aeiuU, in Rome's lenile bour, 

ao macJi the elftiins, the rights of man^ 
fiecter^d mob, that fne divus. 
Of liobie tools sad hoooonible kosTes, 
ftf IifiiiifiliT patriots sod pririkg^d ibves;— 

pan^-eoloar'd naasa, vhicb nought can wsnn 
eonvptioa^s heat — whose quickeo'd 



thor light wings in Bribery's golden tkr, 
Ibr n period, Isy their eggs, and die ;■ — 
greedy Tsmpire, which Irom freedom's tomb 
Conscs forth, with sU the mimicry of bloom 
trpoo its lilcless cheek, and flicks and drains 
Jl people^'s blood to feed its putrid veins I 

TWm surf St, my friend, at pictnre drawn so 
difk^ 
^ Is &ere so llgfal ? " tliou ask*8t — ** no lingering 



■ Of ancient flrc to warm ns ? Lives there none* 
• To act a Blarrdrs part ?" ' — sins 1 not one. 
TV place and power all public spirit tends, 
ik place and power ail public spirit ends ; ^ 
Like hardy plants, that love the air and sky, 
Wbco cmt, HwiU thriTc^-^but taken irit 'twill die ! 

Kot bolder truths of sacred Freedom himg 
From Sidney^i pen or bura'd on Fox's tongue, 
Thaii npstart \^liigs produce each nmrket night. 
While yet their conscience, as their purse, is light; 
While debu at home excite their care for those 
Which* dire to telL, their mnch-lov'd country owes. 



* Andrew Matt^U, tlve hooeft oppowr of the cmirt durtng 
Uh* rrian of CliMirlri Ui<i Sccoad, and the Ust member af pvr*^ 
ttHMDt tatH}. vcf^'rdlnc to the aocl^nt Tnode, t^^ok wogci from 
lAft elmititurnU, Tb« Common* hAve» *it\ce tbini, mueh 
r1iM<|rr' ""'" jMj-miatrTt. — Sre the StaU Poem* for *ome 
md* liut ff»irit<il d!fU»iont of Andrew MarrelL 

9 Tba foiloiriiiff artleM tfxrach of B^it FraJQcii WhmlnEton. 
In Ibe rdcn «f Ctaark* tlio S<KODd, wfll maum tliote who are 
fHUf aware of tbe perfection we hnro since attained Id itiat 
of foranUDcnt who*e humble twj^nuLnK^ to murh 
the worthy baronet. '* I diJ obw-Tf e (**}■ h«) 
M who had pentioiif, and mmr of thoie iv^lio licid 
id all of a ilde, «« thty were dtrfcU'd by tome 
exactly u if their bU4\ne«a So IhU Houm bitd 
fn prcaerve their fHiuioni bqU nfllceji. and not to make 
lave fiar the good nf ihvin who icnt rhem hero.' ' — He alludet 
Ift Ikat partiamcQt which wni calJed, par excctknte, the Fen* 
^anMiTf pArllament. 
> Accordlof to Xenophon, the chief clrcutn>Uuu« which 
tbete creature* to the (UfTTicc of Eaftrm 
the l^otninlouj tUtioD they hcM In tcicl<^tj, aud 
th« pftrfMbUUf of tJivlr being, upon rhi* account, wore de* 
««t«d U» the wUl and caprlct? of • matter, from whote notice 
aloQw tikcy derived euiuld^- ration, and In whoie favour tbey 
■ddhl eeek refoge from the general contempt of mcuiklnd. ^^ 
Att^ *rf%t «■ i»4vt« wmfm «wr «AA«'r Mrl^vrMf jmu Im TMrrt 
IwwvMV tviK^^w «'e«fdMrf*f. — But 1 doubt whether fven an 



And lood and upright, till their prixe be known. 
They thwart ^e King's supplies to raise thetr oiRti. 
Hut bees, on flowers alighting, cease their hum — 
Soi, settling upon places, l^Vliigs grow dumb. 
And^ though most base ia he who, 'neath the shade 
Of Freedom's ensign plies corruption's trade. 
And makes the aacred flag he dares to ahuw 
His paavport to the market of her foe. 
Yet, yet, I own* so venerably dear 
Are Freedom's grave old anthems to my ear, 
That I enjoy tbeni» though by traiu»n sang. 
And reverence Scripture even fttrai Satsn% tODgae. 
Nay* when the constitution has expired, 
Fll have such men, like Irish wakers, hir'd 
To chant old " Habeas Corpus** by its side. 
And ask, in purchased ditties, why it died ? 

See yon smooth lord, whom nature's plastic pains 
Would seem to've fii&hionM for those Eastem n*ign8 
^Mien eunuchs flourish'd, and such nerveless lUmgs 
Ab men rejected were the chosen of Kings j^ — 
Even he, forsooth, (oh fraud, of all the worst!) 
Dur'd to as«ume the patriot's name at first — 
Thus Pitt bt*gar*, and thus begin his apes j 
Thus devils, when first rais'd, take p1e:ising shapes* 
But oh, poor Irelimd 1 if revenge be sweet 
For centuries of wrong, for diirk deceit 
And withVing insult — for the Union thrown 
Into thy bitter cup*, when that alone 
Of slavery's draught was wttnling* — if for this 
Revenge be sweet, thntu htL'it that dromon's bliss \ 
For, sure, 'tis more thjin helTs revenge to see 
That England trusts the men who've ruin'd thee ;— ^ 



Eaiteni prince would hare choien on cnlire admhiUtratloa 
utKKi thift {jftnciple. 

* ** And lo the cui* on Uni&n fhall he thrown " 

* Among^ the many tneajtirei, wltich, lince the iterolutlon, 
hare crtntributed Co J'ncreoAe the lE^iience of the throne^ and 
to feed up tbl» '* Aaron^i icrpent " of the conitltiitiun to Us 
[ir«i>nnt liPJbllh and n>«pectable mai^nkudc?, there bJive Lmmmi 
few mure nutrliiire tlian iJie Scnich and lrl»h Unhmi. Sir 
John Packer uild, in a debate upon the former question, that 
** he would ■ubtnll It to the [tou^e, whether men who had 
baarly betrayed their truit, by givjng up their independent 
conttitutlon, were fit to be admitlt^d Into thu English tlmuo 
of Cornmonc.*^ But Sir John would hare known, U be bod 
not been out of idare at the tiniD, thnt the pllnncjr «f «iich 
tnjllcriak weis nut iimiMi^ the least of thdr rBcutntoendiitlofii. 
Indeed, the pn^moCrrs of the Scotch l^nlnn w«r« tiy no BMtSBS 
disappointed In iho leadlDg otiji'^t of their meaMire, for Ilia 
triumphant inajoritles of the cmirt->party h) pwrttanenl ins^ 
be «late*1 from the odmliflon of the 4h and I ho 16, Onee or 
twice, upon the allerotimi of ihelr liiw of treason and the Itn- 
pnsltloix of the malt-^tax <me.aiuret which were In direct tlo- 
Intion of the Act of Union ), these worthy North Brltona 
arrayed themiehe* In opposlthin to the court ; hwt llndln^ 
this t'tTurt fur Ihelr country unavjiilliig^, ihey prudently deter* 
minrd to thhik theticeforvrafd of themfclToi, and few men 




t 



138 



MOORE'S WORKS, 



That, in these awful days, when tTery hoar 
Creates some new or hla&tj& some ancient power, 
Wlien proud Napokon* like th' enchanted shield ' 
"WTioee light compcirdeaeh wond'ring foe to yield, 
With bttk'ful lustre blinds the brave and free, 
And dju/les Europe into slarery,— ^ 
That, in this hour, when patriot aeal should guide, 
When Jliad should rule, and -^ Fox shcmld noi have 

died. 
All that devoted England con oppose 
To enemies made Bends and friends made fbct. 
Is the rank refnse, the deapis'd reomins 
Of that unpitying power,, whose whips and chains 
Drove Ireland first to tui-a, with harkjt glance, 
Towards other shores, and woo th' embrace of 

France ; — 
Those hacked and tainted tools, so foully fit 
For the grand artisan of mijichief, P — tt, 
Sso useless ever hut in vile employ, 
Sa weak to save, so vigorous to destroy — 

hiiTtt ever kept to i laudililQ ratotuUoo more firmtj , TKie 
fffbct of Irtila rapmenCation on Ibe llbertlei of EiigluntJ wlU 
bo no lets pereapltiilv md pcnaao^nt. 

Ov»' h* 'Tm»^mf 

Tho tn Fusion of iuch cbeap und u»cful Inio-pclkmi m mj 
Lord Ir,, Mr, D. B,. *c, *c. into the lejt{iUtun% cAtiiiot but 
Met u a powerful Altomtlri" on thp cuniititiitloni and clear it tij 
flc§ro«t of oil trautile*oBt(? liiuQioixrt of honcitj« 
' The magician 'i thlcU In Araa«to : 

B tciko per vertil deUo »plfn»lur« 
La iiticrtalci a lora. Cant, ft. 

Wo are told that Cictar'ii cotle of tnomlity wai contalDod in 
tb« foltowlof llu^ af Eurlpldet» wMcb that jfreat moJi Ire^ 
quentlj rrptMlei : — 

KAAJUrrw m^min- r«AA« H' itt0tCur Xt*'^- 
Thli [■ a1k», ai It appeart, the moral cod« of Napoteon. 
■ Ttw roll{}«{ntf pr«ph«lle r«9iuir1i« occur in a letter written 
bt Sir Robert TalboC, trlio attondtrd ihtt Duke oi Drdfurd to 
Faria in I769L TatUnc of wUiim wbfch Iia«« gi own powerful 
la flooiBioreo, h* Mf a, ** Aecordtag to Di« naittTQ aiid coinmon 
floofw of tklBfli, tlMftt la a eonfodtnejr agslmt thenn , and t-on- 
MQUMriljr In Um •aine propottloii u tbajr Incroue lu rlchei, 
thny appTcwh to deitructlott. The addreti of mir Klag 
Wllhoro, In making all Europe Lnke thn uXmtm at Fraiioe, hat 
brought that countr; ticforc ui niMt that Ineritablo perlcNl. 
Wv mutt oec^Maritf ha*« our laro, and Great tirttaJn will 
attain it as loon at Fra&c« AbMll h^To a d«cUltiier with orgttDi 
M proper for tliat poUttcal purpoMi is irer« ttuM« of our 

WlllUiB Cha Third WltlHml doutit, my Lord, 

Great BHtaln niiut lower her fUgbt. Sttrope wilt rvmlod lu 
of tllo bftlaora of coina«rce, ai thr baa mnlmleil France of 
tlw balance of porwer. Tb« addrrai of our itatR«m«n vtlL Inu 
nortaliM them Uf contriving for uj a descent which ihall not 
\tv a tall, bf mailing ui rnther re«emlilr Holliud than Carthage 
and V«ol«e,"— Leller$ on tkt Fttnck SatwH. 

* Thfl king-depoaiac doebiM, astwitfiflajidljic III taa^y 
ralJchioTous abaurdlttea, nai of oo liltlo Mrvtaa Co tlio eanw 
of polltkal Ulicrtjr, by lacoIeBtlag tho rlfht of raalitsaeo to 



Stteh are the men that guard thy threatened shore. 
Oh England E sinking England!'^ boost no more. 



INTOLERANCE, 

A SATIRS* 

** Thii clamour, which preteodc to be ralaed for tlw ufetj 
orrollgion, huA almniil warn out ihe vcrf appearance of It, 
and r^ncierisl u« not oii.ljr the mcMt <UviLled but the raott 
linmorat people upon tlic face of the earth." 

Ai»Ditoi«. Frttkoider, No. 37. 

Start doc, my friend, nor think the muse wiU stala 
Her elassie fiDgers with the dust profane 
Of Bulls, Decrees, and all those tbiind'ring scrolls. 
Which took such freedom once with royal souls, > 



tjranti, anil aitettlng the wfU of tb< people to \m tlie onlf 
true fountain of power. BellarmlnB, the moat rlolont of the 
a4lvorftti>« for papal muthoritj, wai one of the ArU to maintain 
(U<r PiMitiJf. lib. 1. cap. 7), " that klnga hare not tbelr autlio. 
tMj or office Immrdiatelj frvfm God iior hla law, bitt only 
rrom the law of natloni ; '* and in King Jamea't " Dafonce 
of the Rigfata of Kloga agaltiat CaidlnaJ Perron," we find liU 
Hajeaty expreaclag ftrooff ludlgiuitlon agalnat the Cardinal 
for barliig aaiertod **that to the depoaJog of a yng the coa- 
aent of the people muat be obtained " —'*' for hj iheae worda 
(aajra Jnmca) the people are exalted abovethe king, ami made 
thejudgea of the klng'a depo»lin||." p. 4'i4. — ETcn In Mariana'* 
celebrated boolt, where the nonacnac of bigotry doea not 
taterfere, there may be fcKund mianj IftMral and enilghteaed 
viewa of the prtnclplca of government, of the reMiainta whkh 
iliould be Impoted upon rojal power, of the auborillriatlon of 
the Throne to the inlereata of tlie people, he. &.<:. {Dr ftrgt 
H Ht^tt Inttituttone. S«w purtleularly lib. t. cap, C. S, and 
9). — It la rather remarkable, too, that Bnglanil ahould \tis 
Indebted Co another Jeauit for the earileat defeiKre of thai 
prliMlple upoQ which the Keroiullon waa founded, nami-tj, 
the rigbl of tbe people to change the aucceaaion — ( See 
Dolemau^a ** Confcreiiice*," writtcii In aupprirt of the title of 
tht< Infanta of Spain against that of Jam«« I.J^-'Wbea 
Englltiiinen. thert^fore, aay that Popery U the religjon of 
alavery, they ahould noi unly recollect tbat their own boantad 
conatitution ia the work ajid bct|Ui<al of popiih aneeitora \ 
tivoy ahoulil not only remember the Law I of EdWiard IIL, 
'* uttiler whom (aaya Bolinghroke) the conitlttilliw of our 
parltamenta^ and the whole form of our govemiBeot, teaine 
reduced Into better Conn ;" hut they ahouVd know that even the 
error* cbarged on Popery have leaned ia tbe cauae of liberty^ 
and thai Paplata were the firat promuifatora of the doctrlnea 
which led to the Revolution. — In general, howeeer, the 
political princlplea of the Honun Cathollea have been de> 
acribed a« tiappened to auit tbe temporary coneeoleoct ol 
thi'lr oppn-faora, and have been repreaeoted ^^temalely •• 
•UvUh or refractory, according ai a pretext for toraienUng 
them was wutloff. Tho Hine hioooaifftency baa marked 
every other InpalatloB afalnat thoan. Tbey are charirrd 
with laxity in th« obaervcnee of oathi, though an oath haa 
tioen fotind auffident to ahut then out frmn all worldly nd-^ 
rantaget. If tbej reject eertaki dcdaiona of tbelr church, 
they are eald lo be aoeptlc* and bad Chriatlana ; If they admit 
>, Uiey are branded aa b^gola and bad auh^ 




INTOLERANCE. A SATIEK 



139 



bearen wba jet the pope's excloaiTe trade, 
^Aod kingTi were damn'd as fast aa now they're madr. 
" no — let D — gen—u aearch the papal chair ' 
ftagnmt treaaorei long forgotten there; 
aa the vitch of ntnleia Lapland thinltB 
little fwarthj gnomes delight io stinks, 
Let aallow P — ^rc — v — 1 snuff up the gale 
Wlueh wiaard D — gen — n's gaUier'U sweets ex* 

lude. 
EDtm0k for me, whose heart has teamed to scorn 
Bj^ts alike in Eome or Enghind bom, 
Wlio UMithe the Tenotn^ wheocesoe er it spriDgSf 
FrogB popea or lawyers ^» pastry -cooks or kings, — 
Ettoogh fbr me to laugh and weep hy turns. 
JLs mirth provokes, or indignation barns, 
Aa C — nn — og yapours, or as France succeeds. 
Aa H*-wk — ah*ry proses, or as Ireland hleeds ! 



thoa, my friend, if, in these headlong days. 
When bigot Zeal her drunken antics pb} s 
80 neftr a precipice, that men tlie while 
IdOok IsreailileM on and shudder while they smile — 
in such fearfhl days, thou'U dare to look 
ha|»le« Ireland, to this rankling nook 
Whieh Hcaren hath freed from poisonous things in 

Tain, 
While G — ^ff — rd*8 tongue and M— sgr — ve's pen 

remain — 
If thou hast yet no golden hiinkers got 
To shade thine eyes from this devoted spot. 
Whose wrongs, though blazoned o er the world 

they be, 
PUcemea alone are prlyileged fio( to sec — 

We mr« UAd thai confldetice And klndncti will rokk« 
m lb© soTeminefit, though we know IhAt 
lolurtM liAf« hardly prcTctitoi] them firom 
lis frUodii. In shorU Qoehlaf can better fUuftrate the 
of thoce tbilli snd evuiooj lij whlrh a kmf coura« 
otnem wi 'dlf ln^uftice muft be ftupponed, than lh« whota hit* 
tpry of Great Britiln'i conduct tawardf tha Catholic part of 
bar emplra. 
* Tli» ** Sella Slerewaria'* of the po|>«. — The Iliglil 
Doctor will find on <»ngTaf Ihk of 
" Dliquhjtto HUtorii'A d(r Va^^i 
(p. lis.); and I roeooinirDd It m a modd for the 
itoo of tiut lent which tho Doctor U about to tsike In the 
pr1rj-«ouficil of Ireland. 

< Wh«^n Innocent X. wot entreated Co dedd« ttie eon- 
Iroverij U^veen the JecuitJi aod the Jan»cnlit», hesDtwcTed. 
thai ** bt bad Iwan tired a lawyer^ and had therefore nothing 
to da with divtailcj.**— It wvre to be wiihcd that tome of our 
BocUilt peUifofffers knew tbelr own lit element a« well aj 
I*apa Innoccot X. 
' Ko« the C — ind— n who speoki thu« of Ireland : — 
** To wUwi up all. whether we reford the fhiUfulnett of the 
aollf tJie advantage of the tea, with fo ranny corarnddiatis 
ur the niiilivef themnelvei, who arc warlike, Ingi.-^ 
le, Nod W4!lUrmntilK!tIoac-d, «uft-iklnned nrid 
by reMon of the pllantn^^w of their umnclei, tlii* 
b In vumf retpects lo happy, that Glraldux might 
tcfj welt My, ' NMtiire hod regarde^l with more favourable 
eyea than ordinary thli Kingdom of Zephyr/ " 



Ohl turn awhile, and, thtmgh the shamroek 

wreathes 
My homely ha.rp, yet shall the song it hreathes 
Of Ireland's slavery^ and of Ireland's woes. 
Live, when the memory of her tyrant foes 
Shall but exist, all fbture knaves to warn. 
Embalmed in hate and eanonised hy scorn. 
When C — sll^r— gh, in sleep still more profound 
Than his own opiate tongue now deals around. 
Shall wait th' impeachment of that awful day 
Which even ku practised hand can*t bribe away. 

Yes, my dear friend, wert thou but near me 

now, 
To see how Spring lights up on EriD*B brow 
Smiles thut shiue out^ unconnjuenibly fair, 
Even through the blood-murks left by C^ — md — n^ 

there, — 
Coiild*st thou but see what verdure paiDts the sod 
Wliich none but tyninte and tboir sluvcs have irod. 
And didst thou know the spirit, kiod and brave. 
That warnis tbc soul of each insuUed slave. 
Who, tir'd with struggling, sinks beneath his b>t. 
And 5CCI11S by all but watchful France forgot -• — 
Thy hi.'iirt would burn — yes, even thy Pitlitc heart 
Would burn, to ibink that such a bltJoming part 
Of the world's gurdeu, rich in nature's charmi. 
And fiU'd with social souls and vigorous arms, 
Should be the victim of that canting crew, 
So smooth, so godly, — yet so dcviUsh too ; 
Who, arm*d at oiUDe with prayer-hooks and with 

whips, Si 
Blood on their hands, and Scripture on their lips, 

< The example of toleration, which Bonnparto ba« held 
forth, will, [ feAT, produce no other efl^t tbsD (hat of doler^ 
mining the BrilUh fovemment to p«r*3Jt, from tile very 
■plrlt of opposition. In their own old tyitem of tntokraneeond 
injoitice ; Jiut u the i»iame«e blockcn their teeth, *' ttecmiue,** 
oa they tuy, '^the devil hai white onet,'^^ 

* One aft he unhappy reiulti of the controverfly tietween 
Proteitanti and CAtholi», i« the mntiial expoiuro which 
their crimination! nod rocrimitutlani httne produced. In Talu 
do the ProteiLonu charge the Hapbti nith dD«injff the door 
ofudTatlon upon o-tberi, while many of their own writinf{« 
mnd ATticlea hroatliie the lame nnchArltAhli; ipiHt. No csunun 
of Constance or Lateron ever damned hert.^tlci more effeclu- 
mIIj tima the eighth of the Thirty-nine Articlet comignn to 
perdition eir«ry single member of the Greek church ; and I 
doubt whether a more sweeping cLuise of damnation wai ever 
proposed In the mott bigoted council, than that wbkh the 
CalvinlaLic theorj of predritinntlun In the »eirenteenth of 
the»e Artlclei exhibit!. It U true that no liberal Trott^tant 
avowA ftuch excliuliro opinion* ; that every honest cicrgynKtu 
niu»t foel a pang while he tubtrrlUrt to then) ; thnt tome 
even as»ert the Athananlan Creed to l>e the forgery of one 
VIglllua Tnp»en»U. in the heginnlng of the Bixtli century, and 
that emlni^nt d!vlne», like Jortin, hare not heiitatcd to a^y^ 
" There are prnpoftitinti* contained In our Liturgy and Ar- 
ti€lei, which no man of common sense amongit u* bilieTei/' b 
Biut wiiile all liil* is freely conc^'dt:^ to Protestant* i whllu 

b BtT4ClurB on the Arttctdij Sub>cTl|iUana„ 6tt. 




140 



MOOIIE'S WORKS. 



Tyrant* hy cived, and torturers by text, 

Miike thiM life hell, id boaour of the nes-tf 

Your R — desd — les, P — re— v — Is, — great, glo 

rious Heaven, 
If Vm presumptuous, be my tongue forgiven, 
Wljen here I swear, by my soul's hope of rest, 
Fd rather have been bom, ere man wom blest 
With the pure dawn of Re%elation*B light, 
Yes, — rather pJunge me back in Pagan night. 
And tuke my chance w ith Socrates for bliss, 
TbAa be the Cbristiim of a fakb like this, 

nobodf doubti their liDccriTf, wtiim thry declare th&t tht^lr 
■j'tlclei arc not eiientiaU of fiiitti. but 4 fo] lection of o^ilnliDnf 
wblrh have tJecn protnuJgKt«r4 by filJIble meo. »ml from 
mmty of which thi'jr ft**! thc»idYDi juttjfte<l ln.41iiH!iitlng,*- 
whiie >o much liberty of rniractfttloo Ij oJlowcd to rrotcntAAti 
upan their own d«elari><1 and fub«crni«d Artickt of rfltgion. 
It St not itritife that « Blmilar indulgencQ ftlioiild bo so obiU- 
nMctjr TeAuuid to the C4tbolici« upon timiitA wbtch their 
church hai uniformly r»l»tiNl und cnadeniued, in erery 
emmUj when it hu lDde>p<inflrnlly aourlihed ? When t*io 
Ca.thoUc« My, " The tJiH;r«>n of the Council of Ijiteraii, which 
you object to ui, hat no claim wtiatcrcr u|}on. either our faith 
or our rcKion 5 it dlil ntut cireu profe«i to coiitnin any doc- 
IrlnaJ deeUiun, but wuji merely a JudictaJi procc^ltng of that 
■namfaly ; nnd it wmild be u fair for ua to Impute a tt(fe' 
kfUimg d«ctrin« Ut tho Proieitutti, t>ecaiiic their Artt pope, 
Henry VII L, wu uuctiou>ed in an iadulgrrtce of ttmt pro- 
|*«nsity, uji for you ta conclude that wc have inherited* klng- 
dotMnloff taate n-om ttue acts of the Council of Lsterafi, or the 
wecular pretxnitlout of our pope«. With retpoet, loo. to thv 
Decrea of the CoudcIJ of Conttonce, u|M(II tbe «treii|tb of 
whjf-h you acctue ui of breaking faith with heretics, wc do 
not heallate to pronounce that Decree a calumnlaui forgeiy, 
a forgery, loo, to obviou* and lU-fabrlcdted^ that none but 
our eocmle* hare ever ventvtr<>d to give it the tllghett credit 
for authenticity ." — Whom the CAiholics make Iheee decLar- 
ationi (and they are almoit weary with makinji; (hem), when 
tln-y ihow, ttio, by tlielr conduft, that thi'»e dci-iarjitioni are 
«inccro, and that their faith and Riorali are uo more regulated 
by the abiurd decrees of old councili and popei, than their 
■clence h iJiOuenced by the papal auathema against that 
Iflihman* who llrtt found out the Antipode«» — U it not 
fttrjinge that to many itlll wh fully diitnut what every food 
man iB to much Intereited In Ixdierinf ? That 10 nt&ny 
•bould prefer the^ dark-l^intern of the 13ih century to the 
•unvhine of iniel]c>ct which hai ilnce overtpr^id the world ; 
and that ewi-ry dabbler In theology, from Mr. Le Mciurfer 
diown to the Chancellor of the Exchequer, «houlil dare to 
orpfioee the mbbtih of Conftance and Ljiieran to the brtght 
and Irlmnphant pmfre«i of jtwtfce, getieroiity, and truth? 

* In a finpfutar work. wrUteti by one Krancl4Cii» Colllui, 
*" i|.p<m the Boul* of the l*agan«," the author dlAcuHet. with 
much coolncu and erudition, all the probable chanceB of tal- 
TJiiJmi upon which a heathen phllixapher mti^ht calculate^ 
Consifntnff to perdition, without mnth dJlDculty, Plato. J9o- 
cntM, «fC., the only *a<re at whote fate he leem* to hMltal» It 
^tlM(oraa. In coittUkration of hl« golden thifh, and the 
many tnlrarle* which be performed. But. having; balanced 
a httlfi hla claim >, and ftmlUiv reaavn to fnther all theie mlra- 
c^ct on the deiril, he at length, lo the tweoty-arth chapter, 
d^^ldet upon damning hi in al«o. ( /V Amimabtu PagoMorum^ 
Ult. iv, CAP- 20. anil 2A,)^^The poet Dante compromi»e« the 
matter with the l*«gant« and gire« them a neutral lerrltoi^ 

il M.tttfitfiM, a HMlw «r I 



"^Vbicb builds on heavenly cant its earthly sway, 
And iu a cunvcrt naourus to lose a prey^ 
Which graiiping human heurts with double hold, — 
Like Daniie's lover mixing god and gold,* — 
Corrupts both state and church, and mokes tm 

oath 
The knave and atheist's passport into both} 
Whicli, while it dcxims dissenting soitls to know 
Nor bliss above uor liberty below, 
Adda the slave's suffering to the sinner's fear, 
Ajidf lest he "scape hereafter, racki bim here l ^ 



or Umbo of their own, where their employnent. It muit be 
owned, la not rory enrlahlo — **Senza ipeme Tiremo in 
deiio.*' — Cant-iir, — Aranng the numeroui error* iniptited 
to Orlgen, he ti accused of having denied the eternity of 
ftiture punitbment ; and, If he never advanced a more Irra- 
tional doctrine, we may venture, I think, to forgive him. He 
went 10 fur, however, ai to Indudu the devil hlmfelfin the 
general hell-delivery which he luppoied would one day or 
other take place, and In thit &L Auguitin thinks him rathc^r 
too mcrdfiil — " Mlsereeordlor profecto fUli Orlgmet,, qui et 
Iptum dl«l>olttro." &C. {Df Cipttnt, DW, lib. xxL cap. 17.) — 
According to St. Jrroro, It wai Orlgen'A opinion, that *' the 
4evlt himself, after a cirtain time, will be as well nfTax the 
angel Gabriel "— " Id lp«um fore Gabrlelem quod dlalKiluirt.*'^ 
(See hi» Epiiiie to PammacMim.} Btit Halloii, in hit 
Defence of Origen. denlt«« strongly that hU learned father 
had any such mliplacrd tenderness for the devil. 

1 Mr. Fox. In his HpiMH^h on ihe Repeal of the Tert Act 
(17^). thus condemns the Intermixture of religion with the 
pnHtical! constitution of a state : — " What purpose (hf asks) 
can it serve, except the haleful purpote of commLinicating and 
reeeivingcontimLnallonV Under such an alliance corruption 
muit alight upon the one, and slavery overwhelm Che other/* 

Locke, too, lajrc of the connection between church and 
suto. ** The boondsrlM on both sides are (Ited and Immove. 
able. He jmsblei bcttven and earth together, the things 
most remote and opfMsitc, who mixes these two sodeiles, 
which are In their orlginjil. ead» busloesi, and In everything, 
perfectly distinct and Inanltely ditfernot from each, other/*. 
Ftnt Letter an Totereiion. 

The corruptions Introduced into Christianity may be dated 
from the period of Its eitablJshmefit under Coostantlne. nor 
could all the tp|«indoirr which It then acquired atooe for the 
peace and purity which It lost. 

^ There baa been, alter alt, quite a* modi Inlolervics 
among Protestants at among Papists. According lotbt hack- 
nojed quotation — 

IhncoB Intra muros peccatur et extra. 

Even the great champion of the Iteformatlon, Melancbtboti, 
whom Joilln calls "a divine of much miMnesi and g«o«|' 
ffolurr," thus expresses his approbation of tbe burnltig of 
Servetut : *' Leg! (he says to Sitllljif«r) qu« de Servetl btai- 
phemlis rcfpondistli, ct pletatem u jtMUda vestra probo. 
Judlco etlam senatum GeneTentem ractt feclsse, quod bo. 
minem pertinacsno at Hon omlssarum hlaip'herolaa sustullt ; 
Bc mlratua sum mm qmt wrtrlUtem Ulam improbent."— 1 
hare great pleaiura la edotrastlng with these '* mild and 
good-natured*' •eDttments the futlowing worda oftHe Papist 
Bnluse, In addratfing bb friend Conrlnglua: " tnteritn ame- 
miis. ml CoDrlngl, ei tanetsii dlviinas opInJonAi Uiemur In 
catuA religioais, roorlbus tamen lUrerd aoQ ilaiiu, qoi eadem 
llteraruBi studla aectamur.**. irrmMos. Camrimg, Epntoi, par, 
secirnd. p. M. 

Hume tells us that the Commons, la the beflnnlng of 
Charles tbe Flrsfa reign. « attAcke*! Montague, one of tbe 
King's chaplains, on account of a mo<irnatP book which be 
had lately coiniM4<^, and which, to thetr great disgust, sav H 



intolerance; a satire. 



141 



But no— ^ fiir otlier £uth, fkr milder bemni 

Of kemreol J justice worm the Chrisdan's dreamA; 

HU creed i» writ on Mercy*a page atiovc, 

Ej the pure hands of aH'Sloning Love ; 

ffe weeps to lee abnu'd Religion twine 

Bxviiiid Tjranoy's eoane brow her wreath divine; 

Aad k^ white found him aectt and nations raise 

Ta ilie one God their rarying notes of praise, 

Blrirrn ettoh Toice, whatever iu tone may be, 

Tbst ierrca to swell the general harmony. ^ 

Sodi was the spirit, gently, grandly bright. 
That fil]*d, oh Fox! thy peacefol sonl with tight; 
While free and ipaeious as that ambient air 
Which folds our planet in its circling care. 
The mighty sphere of thy transparent mind 
Emhrac'd the world, and breath'd for all mankind. 
Last of the great, farewell ! — yet not the last^^ 
Though Britain's sunshine hour with thee be past, 
Seme atill one ray of glory gives. 
And lieelt hot half ihy loss while Grattan lives. 



APPENDIX. 

To the foregoing Poem, as first published, were 
■abjoined, in the nhape of a Note, or Appendix^ 
the following remarks on the History and ^luslc 
of Ijreland. This fragment was originally intended 
to Ibrm part of a Preface to the Irish Melodies} 



. CailioUca. u well u other CbiiiclAoi, from et^ma] 
' — In the *«me rnanoer a compUlot wju lodged 
tcfure tbc Lords of the Coiiiieil sK^JTut that exccllcfnt writer 
HaokeT. for baviof , In a Sertnon a^init PoT»ery, attrtn|)ted 
lo isv* mmaj of hia Popish ancectora for ignoraHca. — To 
IhcM etimplrti of Pratcslaot toleration I shall bog leave to 
thm fbllowliif oattract from a letter of old Roger 
I (tha tutor of Queen EU«abetK), which H prc»err«d 
tike Uarrbigtafi Paprri, and wot wrtttea In 154343, lo Lbe 
fiati of LcieevtCT, coraiitalning of the Archhiihop Youngs 
wfao bad talicfi away hU prebend In tbe church of York : 
"* Kutcr Bourne • did never griet e tne half la raoche in offer* 
Img mm wraif, aa Mr. Dudley and the Bythopp of York doe« 
In laltlnf away mj right, No bythopp In Q. Mary'i time 
vould lurra to dealt with nue; not Mr. Uournc hfinseljr«, when 
Wlnrihcner llv«d, dur»t have to dealt with mc; For tuche 
food eitliaatlaa In lho«« dajei even the learocdat and wj-tett 
aaaOv aa Gardeoer and Cardinal Poole, made of my poore 
•arvlAt, that altbou^lt tbey koewe perfectly that in reUgloD^ 
todi bgr opra WTTtlnge and pfTrlc Ulkc, I wat contrzirje un(o 
them ; yea, when Sir FrancU EtigleBeld bj mtine did note me 
ipeciailye at the councill- hoard, Oardener would not vuflf^r 
IBC to be called thither, nor touch«*d elliwheare, lallnge luche 
worda of me in a lettre, as, though leUrei eanntit, I t>lu»he to 
arrita th^ro to your Ifirdshlpp. Winebe«ter'i good- will, ttoode 
not la cpeaUag fairs and wUhtng well, but hi* did In deeds 
that far matt whereby my wife and chilldrun shall Iltro (be 
iMttar when I am gone/* {See Nugim ArUiifuar, vol. i. pp. 9S, 



but afterwards, for some reaaoa vhich I do not 
DOW recoUeet, was thrown aiide, 

a • a a • 

Our history, for many centuries past, Lt crodit- 
ahle neither to oitr neighbours nor ourselTea, and 
ought not to be read by any Irishman who wishes 
either to love England or to feel proud of Iretand* 
The loss of independence very early debased our 
character; and otir feuds mid rebellions, though 
frequent and feroeious, but seldom displayed that 
generous spirit of enterprise with which the pride 
of an indepeodL'nt monarchy m* long dignified the 
struggles of Seotlimd. it is true tliis island haa 
giTen birth to heroes who, under more favourable 
circtttustanceSt might have left in the hearts of 
tlreir countrymen recollections as dear as those of 
a Bruce or a Wallace; but success was wanting to 
cofiseerate resistance, their cause was branded 
With the difihi'jirtening name of treason^ and tlietr 
oppressed country was such a blank among nations, 
that, like the adventures of those woods which 
Rinaldo wished to explore^ the fume of their 
actions was lost in the obscurity of the place where 
they achieved them. 

^^^ Errando In quelli Im^LI 
TrOTir potrla itrane avventure o moike, 
Ala come \ luoghl I faitl ancor son fo»cbi, 
Che Roo se n* ba notlzia le piO. volte* * 

Hence is it that the annals of Ireland, through 
a lapse of six hundred years, exhibit not one of 
those shinmg names, not one of those themes of 
national pride, from which poetry borrows her 
noblest inspiration; and that historyf which ought 



99.) — If men who acted thus were bigota, what ihall we call 
*lr. P^Tc-»— I ? 

In Sutcllffo^i " Surrey of Popery " there Olircurii the follow. 
Ing asLsertlon: — " Papisti, th.it positively bold the heretical 
and false doctrtnes of tbe modern church of Ilome, cacinoi 
possibly be sat^ed.'^^Ai a cotitrost to this and othvr ipecl- 
mens of Protestant liberalHy« which it would be much more 
eaty than pleasant to collects I refer tny reader to tbe Decla* 
ratimiof La P^re Coiiirayer ;— doubting not that, wbllo be 
rcaids the lejitlnimts of this ploui man upon toleration, ho 
will feel inclined to exclAlm with Belsbam, '* DIusb, ye Pro' 
tcstant hfgots ! and be confounded at the conipari»on of your 
own wretched and malignant prejudices with the gt^'nerous 
iud enlarged Ideas^ the noble and aninuited Language of thLi 
Poplcb prieit:'*— Ewaj^i, %%wii. p. 8fl. 

^ " La tot^raoce est la cbose du monde la plus prof>reik 
rameQer le lilcle d'or, et i faire un concert et \m« harmonle 
do plturieura votx et Instruments de dllTc rents tons et nolea, 
Auisi sigrcable pour Ic muius que T uniform ke d'unc seule 
tolx/' Baylf^ CommtntrnTt Pkilotopht'qtte. die. part II. rhap* 
vl.^Both Hayle nnd Locke would h»irc treat pil tbe euhjert 
of Toleration in a manner miuth more wnrthy of themielvea 
and of tbe cause. If they had written In nn age less distracted 
by religioua prejudices. 

^ AdoatOi canto Iv. 

« fttr J^n Uournv, rilncl|iAl ScctvUt? of HiBte la Qimm H^. 

It Bj Uiudcner^ fitTour Ateham \aug held kkU f*^io*^ttif^t UUmgh not 




142 



MOORE'S WORKS. 



ta be the richest garden of the Muse, yieldf no 
growth to her in this hapless lAland but cypress 
tikd. weeds. In trtitli, the poet who would embellish 
bis song with alJuiiioriB to Irish names and events, 
most be contented to seek theim in those curly 
periods when our character was yet unalloyed and 
origiimt, hefore the impolitic craft of our conquer- 
ors bjEid divided, weakened, and disgraced u& 
The sole traits of heroism » indeed, which he C4in 
venture st this day to commemorate, either with 
safety to himself, or honour to his eoantry, ore to 
be looked for in those ancient times when the 
native monarchs of Ireland displayed and fostered 
Tirtues worthy of a better agej when our Mala- 
chies wore orouad their necks collars of gold which 
they had won in single combat from the invader ^ 
and our Briens deserved and won the warm af- 
fections of a people by exhibiting all the most 
estimable qualities of a king. It may be said that 
the magic of tradition has shed a charm over this 
remote period, to which it is in reality hut tittle 
entitled, and that most of the pictures, which we 
dwell on so fondly, of days when this island was 
distinguished amidst the gloom of Europe, by the 
sanctity of her morals, the spirit of her knighthiKMJ, 
and the polish of her schooK are little more than 
the inventions of national partiality, — that bright 
bat spnrioaa offspring which vanity engenders upon 
ignorance, and with which the first records of 
every peopfe abound. But the sceptic is scarcely 
to be envied who would pause for stronger proofs 
thflm we already po^ess of the early glories of 
Ireland^ and were even the veracity of all these 
I»rooffi surrendered, yet who would not tly to such 
tattering fictions from the sad degrading truths 
which the history of later times presents to us ? 

The language of sorrow, howeverj is, in general, 
best suited to our Music, and with themes of this 
nature the poet may be amply supplied. There is 
•cwrcely a pAge of oar annals that will not furnish 
him A sabject, and while the national Muse of 
other conntries adorns her lempk proudly with 



I 8e« Wamcr't Hlitofr of IreUad, f ol. i. book is. 

• Ststitu. Tb(!b«id. lib. %ih 

* " A iort of civil eicommuitfcstltm (iaf« Gibbon), wblrh 
tflttnAed tbeiD from tbctlr feUow-citlieni by a peculiar brand 

of laltaiy ; «nd thit d«elar«lt(m of tho lupreinc magi*tra^t« 
Imdid to Justify^ or at leait to «actu«, tbe ItuultJ of a fanatic 
Tti* Mctarira were fraduallf dlfquatlHed far tbe 
B of konouraUe or lucraiire enaitlojrraenta, and Tboo- 
tfotUti ««■ latiafled with hi* owd juitlce wben b« decraod, 
that, w iJmj Euoomiana dUtlmutibtvl tbe nature of tbe Soo 
from that of tbe Falber, tbi|f abould be lDca(iabl« of making 
Ibair waic. or oT rvceivlof anr advantJi^e from t««tamicDtaiT 



trophies of the past,, in Ireland her melancholy 
altar, like the shrine of Pity at Athens, is to be 
known only by the tears that are shed npon it; 
** lacfymis attaria sudanL" ^ 

There is a well-known story, related of the 
Antiochians rnider the reign of Theodosius, which 
is not only honourable to the powers of music in 
general, but which applies so peculiarly to the 
mournful melodies of Ireland, that I cannot resist 
the temptation of introducing it here. — The piety 
of Theodosius, would have been udniirable, had it 
not been stained with intolerance; but under his 
reign was, I believe, first set the example of a 
disqualifying penal code enacted by Christians 
against Christians,' ^Vhether his interference 
with the religion of the Antiochians had any 
share in the alienation of their loyalty is not ex- 
pressly ascertained by historians ; but severe edicts, 
heaTy taxation, and the rapacity and insolence of 
the men whom he sent to gorem them, sufficiently 
account for the discontents of a warm and sus- 
ceptible people. Repentance soon followed the 
crimes into which their impatience haxl hurried 
them; but the vengeance of the Emperor was im- 
placable, and punishments of the most dreadflil 
mature hung over the eity of AntioL'h, whose 
devoted inhabit an ts^ totally resigned to despond- 
ence, wandered through the streets and public 
ossembLies, giving utterance to their grief in dirges 
of the most touching lamentation.* At length, 
Flavian us, their bishop, whom they had sent to 
intercede with Theodosius, finding all his en- 
treaties coldly rejected, adopted the expedient of 
teaching these songs of tofrow which he had heard 
from the lips of his unfortunate countrymcB to the 
minstrels who performed for the Emperor at table. 
The heart of Theodosius could not resist this 
appeal; tears fell fast into his cup while he listened, 
tad the Antiochians were forgiven. — Surely^ if 
music ever spoke the misfortunes of a people, or 
cotild ever conciliate forgiveness for their errors, 
the music of Ireland ought lo possess those powers. 



ftAkuAtrnt iwfUt. — Sicrpkor. lib. nM, cap. i3. Thb tlorj U 
told alio la SoBoawm, lib. vU. cap. 23. ; but unfortunatelj 
Cbrytoctam Mjrt ootblog whatf>v»r about It, antl be not oalj 
had iHu bejt opportunUiei of tnforniatkn^ but wa* to<i> fond 
of miule, ai appcari bjr bit proLici of pftalmutljr (ExpotiL In 
Ptatm %iV, ). to omit fucb a 0«tterin(r lllaitrallion of hi powan. 
H« Jmputea their reeoiftclllillon to the intcrfrTcnce of the An- 
tkicblan •oUtartoi, vhJls Zotlmui attiibutet It Xa tbe remoci. 
•traacea of the M>pbiit Llbanlui. — Glbbou, J tbloli» doea ooi 
*tea aUudt to ibii itor| of tb« mualciani. 




THE SCEPTIC, A SATHIE, 



143 



THE SCEPTIC, 

A PHILOSOPHICAL SATIRE. 



PutDAR. mp, Htnfdot. lib. 111. 



PREFACE. 

Tbs Seeptieil Pbiloiophy of tb^ Ancients has 
hcen AO leis iiii«rvpresented thun the Epiciin?aQ. 
I^rirlio BBAjr iwrhjip* have carried it to rather an 
uialuMul exceis; — bat we must mot belie^'e, with 
, all the abiurditipA imputed to this philo- 
r; and it appears to tne that the doctrines of 
lbs tebool, aa explained hy Sextua Empiricus > , 
•re far niore nuted to the wants and infirmities 
eihaman reatoiL, aa well a» more conducive to the 
mild rirtues Qf hwuility and patience, than any of 
ihofe iystema of philosophy which preceded the 
intrndiictioti of Christianity. The Sceptic* may 
be nid to have held a middle path between the 
Dogmatiatf and Academic ianii; the fonner of whom 
boaited that they had attained the tmth, while the 
latter dienied that any uttainable truth existed. 
The Sceptics, howeyer, without either aEsertiDgor 
denying its existence, professed to be modestly 
atti Mixiously In search of it; or, as St. Augustine 
expreasea it, in his liberal tract against the Moui- 
cbsaoSf **ne]iio nostrum dicat jam se inTeoisse 
vetitatein ; lic earn qnocnimn^ quasi ab utrisque 
■Mciaiur*** From this habit of Impartial m- 
THti^Stioa, and the necessity which it Imposed 
apoD Uiem, of stndjiDg not only every system of 
pbUoaophy, bnt every art and science, which pro- 
ftitd to lay its basia in tmth, they necessarily 
took a wider range of erudition, and were fur more 
traveUed in the regions of philosophy than those 
whom ootivictioo or bigotry had domesticated in 
maj particiUar system. It required all the kartiing 
fd dognialiam to overthrow the dogmatism of 
ksniing; and the Sceptics may be said to resemble 

» Pyirh, Hrpoih. — The readrr may find a toler»h1jr rlear 
■Isitnoc of thla work or Soxtui Ecnplrlcua In La Veril^ dei 
9cl«nce»i hf Mcnewmo, Uv. L chap. IL Itr. 

* Lllx contra BpUt. Manichftt quun irocjutt FuodAtn«tttl, 
Op. Paris, tfjm. wi. 

* &$m Ifftrtln. SchooclUii*de SrrplidimOt who Fudearourt, 
— wtaklf , I tJiiDk. *- to refiito thi* opinion of Lip*lui. 



in ihii respect, that ancient incendiary, who stole 
from the altar the fire with which he destroyed 
the temple. This advantage over all the other 
sects is allowed to them even by Lipsius^ whose 
treatise on the miracles of the Virgo Halleosia will 
sufficiently save him from all suspicitm ofscep- 
ticism. ** Labore^ ingenio, memoria,'* be says, 
** supra omnes pene philosopbod fuisse. — Quid 
nonne omnia aliorum seeta tenere debuerunt et 
inquirere, si potermit refellere ? res dicit. Nonne 
orationes varias, raras, subtiles inveniri ad tarn 
reci'ptas, claras, certas (at videbatur) sententias 
evertendas?" &c &c, '-^Jlfaitwrfwct ad PhiloaopK 
Stvk. Dissert, 4. 

Between the scepticism of the ancients and the 
moderns the great difference is, that the former 
doubted for the purpose of investigating, as may 
he exempliJled by the third book of Aristolle*8 
Metaphysics^, while the latter investigate for the 
purpose of doubt lug, as may be seen through most 
of the philosophical works of Himie. * Indeed, 
the Pyrrhonism of latter days is not only more 
subtle than that of antiquity, but, it must he con- 
fessed, more dangerous in its tendency. The 
happine^ of a Christian depends so essentially 
upon his belief, that it is but natural he should 
feel alarm at the progress of doubt, lest it should 
steal by degrees into that region from which he is 
most interested in excluding it, and poisoo at last 
the Very spring of his consolation and hope. Stilly 
however, the abuses of doubting ought not to deter 
a philosophical mind from indulging mildly and 
rationally in its use ; and there is nothing, surely, 
more consistent with the meek spirit of Christi* 
anity, than that humble scepticism which professes 

4 Errj }i r*ir itrfrtfurmt fi fv lfHp*tf «'fM'f>«f t« innr*f*t4mi 
vwXwc. -- Mctaphjft- lib. lU. caa^* 

» Neither Ituine, howeTer, cWBdrkeky, Ar*? to bp judgrd 
Tijr the iniiri'preit'iiitntlont of Seattle, whuso tuook^ Ihowerep 
amiably Int^ndeil, puti forth a moat unphUasophk-ol appeal to 
popular feelCngi ojid prcjudjcef, and Li a coDtinued petitio 
primeipli throughout. 



1 



144 



MOORE'S WORKS. 



not to extond tta distrtiBt beyond the circle of hu* 
niao pursuit** and the prc^tcnsions of buiijaa know- 
ledg^c. A follower of this acliooi may be aiBoug 
die readiest to admit the eluims of a suix?riii tending 
Intetligence upoD his f^iiih and wdoration : it la 
only to the wisdom of tbis weak >*'(?rld that he rc- 
fiues, or Qt least delayt, his assent ; — it is only in 
pMM9mg through the shadow of eartb that his niiiid 
imdergtH's the ochpse of seepticism. No follower 
of Pyixho baa ever spoken more strongly agaiast 
the dogmatists ihmi. St. Paul himself, in the Firet 
Epistle to the Corintliiaus ; and there are passages 
ID Ecclesiastes and other parts of Scripture* which 
justify our utioost diffidt iiee in all that human reason 
originaites. Even the Sceptics of antiquity re- 
fraiiied carefully from the mysteries of theology, 
and, in entering the temples of religion, laid aside 
their philosophy at the porch. Sextus Emperieus 
thus declares the acquiesce nee of his »ect in the 
general h-clief of a divine and fore-knowing Power: 

^touf, Kat tFfio^ttf Sifovs Kot icpovoftv avrovi <^aft*if. ^ 
In short, it appears to ine^ that this rational and 
well regulated scepticism is the only danghtcr of 
the Schools that can safely he selected as a hand- 
maid for Piety. He who distrusts the light of 
reason, will be the first to follow a more luminous 
guide ; and if,, with an ardent love for truth, be 
has sought her in vain through the ways of this 
life, he will byt turn with the more hope to that 
better worlds where all is simple^ Inie, and ever- 
lasting ; for, there is no parallax at the zenith ; — 
it is only near our trouhled horizon that ohjects 
deceive us into vague and erroneous cakulations. 

I Lfti m. cap. t. 

' " The parlkuUr bulk, Qumber, fifuro^ABd motion of the 
parti of fire or •na*r tire tpMj in them, wht'iber any one per- 
ctfite ihpio or not, auti therefore thpjr mny im caUtnH real qim- 
tttlo«, ticfftnie t)iey r^«1ly exUt In thotc bodlo* ; but light, 
liiMit, wbHen»*it or coldoe**, ar« no more rejUly In them th«n 
•lcknM.» or paXa !■ in rouina. Take away tbe «<niuitlon of 
%htftn ; Int not the eye ■«« light or rolourt, nor the ttftn hear 
•micdt ; Irt the palate not tut^, nor tlm noAe imeU, mud all 
coluurK tA>te«t odourt, and «ounda, ai they arv >uch particu- 
Jar Idrat, vankih aodceaie." — Lockf^ book 11. rhap. 1. 

BUhop Berkeley. It U well known, extendi^d thli «lortrlne 
rvun lo primary qu&lltiftt and iu<ppi>»<>d that matter ttjcif tiot 
but an ideal exislen^e> Dut, hoar are w<> in appij, hit theory to 
lliat fipriod which preceded ibe tormation o^ man, when our 
tyilom ori^niible thtof* wa« produced, and the ftun thoiie. and 
tha walur* do wed, without any lentient being tawUneit them? 
The iprctator. whom Whlfton fUf^plle^, will tcareely toke the 
difllrulty : " To apeak my mind freely,'* layi he, " I bwlieire 
that llie Meuhu wa» there actUiilly present/* — See WkiMton, 

* Boetltu employ! thlsargovient ofthe Sceptktamonv hit 
f nA«ctlioDi u|K}n the ttnptineAt of time. *' Qtild 
UTum fetutum morrt Inter ■* atqne Inttitota dit-^ 
;, ut^uodapiMl alio* Uude, apud allot •iippDrlodlKniam 
Hur ? ** — Lib. IL prfwi f. U any omuaing intlance* of dl- 
vvnilyt In the taitea, auuinen, auad miorali of dlibrcnt natlomi. 



THE SCEPTIC. 

A* the gay tint, that decks the vernal rcwe,* 
Not in the flower, hut in our vision glows ; 
As the ripe flavour of Falernian tidea 
Not in the wine, but in our taste resides ; 
So when, with heartfelt trihute, we declare 
That Marco's honest and that Susan *s fair, 
"Tis in our minds, and nut in Susan's ejea 
Or Marco's life^ the worth or beauty lies : 
For Bhe, in fial-no«'d China, would appear 
Aa plain a thing as Lady Anne is here ; 
And one light joke at rich Lorelto's dome 
Would rank good Marco w itli the damu'd at Rome. 

There's no deformity so vile, so hose, 
That 'lis not somewhere thought a ehanii, a grace ; 
No foal reproach, that may not steal a biam 
From other sunSt to bleach it to esiei ra. ^ 
Ask, who 18 wise ?^ you U fmd the sdf-sanie man 
A sage in France, a madman in Japan ; 
And here some head beneath a mitre swells, 
Which there had tingled to a cap and hells : 
Nay, there may yet some monstrous region he, 
Unknown lo Cook, and friim Naf^filefm free, 
Where C — rtl— r — gh would for a patriot pass, 
And mouthing M ve scarce he deem'd an assl 

** List not to reason (Epicurus cries), 
" Bui trust the senses, there conviction Hies :"^-^ 
Alas I <A**^ judge not by a purer light. 
Nor keep their fountains more imttng'dand bright: 



may be Toiind tbroujchnvit the wnrki of that atnutlnf ScefttJe, 
Le l^uthe le Vayer — See hli UpuKule Sropllque, hU Trea- 
life " U*' la S^H^^e Sceptique/' and. atKaro all, thote Dlalca^e*, 
not lo be found lo hii workt, which he puhlljhed under the 
nam.*! of Moratlui T libera.— The chief objection to theM 
wrttluK* *'<^ L* Vayer (and it ii a blemiih which may ha 
felt alia tn the Eiprit dca Lniit), ti the ■u«plciout ol>* 
ftcurlty of the murce* from whence he frequently draw* kilf 
lni<tane<>»t and the indiscriminate u.»c made hy him of the 
lowest populacfi of the lihrary, — thft>«e l|'lnf traTellert and 
wonder-monger t, of whom ShaHeibury, In hia Adtrke to azt 
Author, romplaint, as having tended in hi» own time lo the 
difTniiaiun of a rery ihalkiw and vfclmi* lort of ace|Hieiini« — 
Vni. i. p. aai. The PyrrhoniKm of I^e Vayer, however, U 
of the moit (unocent and playful kind; and V'lllemandy, th« 
aulhur of Sceptlcltmoi Debetfatui, exempt i btin ipedallr lo 
the declaration of war which he denonneet agaiiut tb* oUkar 
armed oeutralA of the tecU In eonildeiatlon of Ibe oitbodox 
iimki within which lie ennllnea hii incredulity. 

*' Thia waa the creed alto of thoM" modem Eplcitrcaoa, wlioni 
Nlmm dt l*Eoeloi eollwttd around her in the Rob dw Taur- 
ndtoi, snd wham olt^^et teetni to have twvn to decry tbfl 
facutty of fflaaoo, as tnuUnff only U* embarraat mir vholeMMOt 
use of pl«aiiir«a, wlUMMCt enabllnir ui. In any degree, to a«oM 
their abuse, llidtine daa Houll£re». ibe fair pupil of Dee 
Damtttix In Ibe aiti of poetry «nd fall antry, liai {levot«^d moit 
of her vertet to tlili Isudiitde porpoie, and !• oven inch a dc 




THE SCEKria A SATIRE. 



145 



k 



\ than, chat the Russian swain 
WM m\^ ibr tnyuQH>ilf «bik he sips cbampogDe ; 
And health so roles them, that a fever's heat 
WnQld make eren Sh — r— d— n think water sweeL 

Jdit wm the mind the erring tense i belierea, 
The erring mind, in tiLrn, the sensv deceives ; 
And cold disgnit can find but wrinkles there. 
Where piicaioD funcles ill that's smooth and fair. 
P • • • •, who sees, upon his pillow laid, 
A tace for which ten thousand pounds were paid. 
Dm tclU how qiuck before ft jury flies 
TIk spell that mock*d the warm seducer*s eyes* 

Self la the medium through which Judgment's 
ray 
Can seldom pass withont being ttirn'd nstrav. 
The smith of Ephesus « thought Diun's shrine. 
By which his craft most throve, the most divine; 
And ev'n the true faith seems not half so true. 
When link'd with one good living as with ttpo. 
Had W — Ic^t first been pensioned bj the throne. 
Rings would have suffer'd by his praise alone; 
And P — ^ine perhaps, for something snug per ann,, 
Had laughU Like W— ll-^ley, atall Rights of Maj]. 

Bat *tJM not only indtridnal minds, — • 
Whole nations, too, the same delusion blinds. 
Thus Enghind, hot from r>enm ark's smoking meads, 
Tnrna op her eyes at Gallia's guilty deeds; 



n» that, la OQ<r or lier pattomlt. the con. 
3 on the want of |L SL Errt^mont ftpeaJui 
^dMSOlljoct: — 

' Vn nCtanfe ln€*rt*lii dViprit ♦'( ile mntlfre 
Kous CkU vlTTe avec trop du trop [icu tie lurotj^re. 

Kaiur*, jErl4iTe-noa« il Ia clartf det a«ig««, 
Ou iiotitsljalM#>u ieni dm iimplet «iifni:^ux," 
BUj be tliii* puraphrufcd : — 
Had nun hvcii made, at nature't birth, 
Of on I J fljunc or only eArth^ 
HjuI he been fonn'tj a i^erfrtt wltols 

Of purcljr iAMt or grosilj thij. 
Then •ente would ne'er bav« clouiliriJ. $€m[, 

SJor •oul reJtnln'U the temc'a bl)*** 
Ob h«pp7, bad hi* Itght been ttrong. 

Or had be nerer ihar'd a }igbl. 
Which sUIno enough tu thow he'i wronf. 
But mtt enough to load him rli^hL 
K omonB the frugnienls of Petrcmliiii.^ those Tprie» be^ 
•• FaUunt not orttll," Ac* The tno»t tcfptiral of the 
poeti was Eiirlpldet; md It would, 1 ttiiak, luiEile 
Ik* whote uboot of P/rrho to produce a doubt more ii^tlintf 
llMnttaerollottlng: — 

Tit I' 0tit» u lift T#v^ immkntm ^muft 
T* 'nr it :^yfrmn* irri* 
S«e I^aert, to Pyrrh. 
Soerace* lud Plato were the grand •ourei'i of aneletit ieep- 
Arcordlng to Clci^ro (de Orator, Uh. Iti), they lup- 
itreesQai wlih tht doctrior* of the Middle Acudemj; 
and bow doftclf thiue re«eniblcd the tenett of the Dceptlei, 




Tbui, self-pleaj*d stilly the same diflbonouriog chain 
She byadB in Ireland, ihe would break in Spain; 
While prai**d at distance, bat at home forbid, 
Rebels in Cork are patriots at Madrid. 

If Grotitis be thy guide, shut, shut the book* — 
In force done for Laws of Nations look. 
Let sbipless Danes and whining yankees dwell 
On nuval rights, with Orotlos and Vattel, 
While C — bb — t*s pirate code alone appears 
Sound moral sense to lilngtand and Algiers. 

Woe to the Sceptic, in these party days. 
Who wafU to neither shrine his puffs of praise! 
For him no pension poura its annual fruits, 
No fertile sinecure spontaneous shoots; 
Not At* the meed that crown*d Don H — kh — m's 

rhyme, 
Nor sees he c?'er, in dreams of future time. 
Those shadowy forms of sleek reversions rise. 
So dear to Scotchmen's second -sigh ted eyea. 
Yet who, that looks to History *s damning leaf. 
Where Whig and Tory, thief oppos'd to thief. 
On either side in lofly shame are seen,' 
While Freedom's form hangs crucified between — 
W^ho, B — rd — tt, who s»ich rival rogues can see. 
But flies from iMtth to Honesty and thee? 

Tf, weary of the world's bewild'ring maxe/ 
Hopeless of finding, through its weedy ways, 



ttiMf be fppn <»¥Pn In vSrxtui Empl? leo» (lib, i r-ip, 33.), who^ 
with all hit diitjui'tiottf, rjui irarcrly pr<rve any AiBi''Ptnc^, 
Tt Appears itr^nite tlmt Epkurua ibould haire hrr-n a dogmd* 
iJitt ; and hit mutural temp*r would mokt probablj' have Ird 
him to the repose of Keptklim, b^ul not the Jttolei, bjr ibeJr 
violent i3ppo»it1[on to hli dcH'trlncf, {romfR'Hed him to t>» tu 
dbttlnat^* ai thomsclvet, Plutjirch, Indeed, in reporting aoidq 
of hii opintooi>r«pre»crkt» him a* havinjt ileiivcTed them with 
considerable heiltalloti. — Ewhc*v(h tvitr Kimynatrxti rturt/v^ 
Mx*t^fH T<woili%«^»» — Dfi*/tffi/. PhiiontpA. lib. li. cap. 1.1. 
lAtm alio the 21 ic and 22d chnpten. But thai ihe leading 
chararterlAtln of the lect were feir-auSiricncj and dngtiia* 
tltto, appeari from what Cicern tayt of VpHeliu. De Nutur. 
Hear. — '* Turn Velleltu, ifldenter Linli, ut mlent kti, of bit 
taio irerpna qiuun ne dulittare aliqui de n- ifhlppctiir/* 

< At'li, chap. xix. " For a. cfirtAln mnnnampd Demetr|u«, 
n iJIrerimith, which mado tilver Bbrtoet for Diana, brought 
no im.-il) gain unto thp crHitimeii." 

* *' Thoi« two thlcvrt/' tAyi Ralph, " toetween whom the 
nation 1« crncirted/' — I'tr and Abute qf Parliammtt, 

^ The agluiinn of the ihi[i it one of the chief difflruklet 
which impede liie Alu-avrry of the longitude at awi; and 
Ihe tiioiult »nd hurrjr of Ufe are eqiudly nnfavrwrabte to that 
c«3Tn level of mind which ii necetiiiirj to an Inquirer afier 
truth. 

To the mean dine, our mrnlcit Sceptic, In the ah«ence of 
tTiith, ronlfnli himielf with probabfMLlc^», Te»enib1iog In thl» 
mpect thoie «ullori or Penc1o|;»e, who, on flndlriif that thef 
eouki not pollen the nilflrcM hcr*p1f, »rry wltcly rcfolfcd 
to put lip with her maidi ; rn IIifHA»Ti» vXvtfmZii* **n iv*m-- 
Ui>t4. rant T«vr^ i/uf\utr* ^ *^m.ttmi*mtt , — riutarcki, tlf|i 



A 




146 



MOORE'S WORKS. 



Ooe flower of truth, the hiusy crowd we shun, 
And to tbe sliade^ of tranquil learuing run^ 
How many a doubt pursues 1 ' huw oft we sigh, 
Wheu hi&toTies clmriu, to think that histories liet 
That all are grave roraanceB, at the best. 
And M— «gr — ve's^ but more clumsy thao the rest 
By Tory Hume's seductiTt* page heguil'd, 
"We fiiucy Charles was just and StridFord mildr 
And Fox hioisclf, with party pencil, drawa 
MoDmouth a hero, " for tbe good ohl cause! "^ 
Then, rights are wrongs, and victories are defeats, 
A& French or Engbsh pride the tale repeats ; 
And, when they tell Corunna's story o*er. 
They'll disagree iu all, hot honoiiritig Moore: 
Nay, future pens, to Hatter future courts, 
May cite perhaps the Park -guns* gay reportt^ 
To prove that England triumph 'd on the mora 
Which found her Junot's je*t and Europe's scorti. 

In Science, too — how many a system, rais'd 
Like Neva's icy domes, awhile hath blazed 
With lights of fancy and with forms of pride. 
Then, melting, minified with the oblivious tide! 
Now Earth usur^js the centre of the sky, 
Nom Newtoo puts tbe paltry planet by; 
Niow whims revive beneath Oescartes'si pen^ 
Which noUTt asiaird by l«ocke*t, expire agnin. 



( S«tt a curt'ctu work, entltltd '^' ncflcctioni upcm LiNim- 
lof." written on the pl»n of Agrrl^iji*** " I>e V^tiktAtc Sclon- 
iXHrum," biit much more honrttly Atiit »iiUfullj fxccuUrd. 

* ThI* hlitorLin of the triiti rtbelUoiu baj outrun even hit 
prrdeccMor lu iho *vne toih. Sir John Ti-mpli*^ for wlio^e 
chftTiiCter witli retpect to Tfracit; Ihp reader maj consult 
Gurt«'ft " CollcciliMi ot OrinoDd'* OrigUi&l Ptpcrt.'* p. 207, 
8«« itm Dr. Halion^i a^«^aunt or lifii>> iti ih» iutroditctioD to 
tlMS iviMMid t«iluak« of hit '* llistorlc. CoUt^ct." 

3 1I« defend* Straflbrd'i randuct u " Innocent and «ren 

F tsudjihlo." In thft tame tplnt, ipeaUiif o( the arbUrary usn- 

tMiCft of the Stajr Chainber, he »a|r». — " The tcvorUy of the 

Star Chamber, twhich wti geniirally ucrlbed to l<jiud'»paMiuci< 

•!« (ilipo«Ltion. «ju ppr];ijip«. In Itself, *ofi>uwli4t h1am«j|ble/' 

* That fltfiLlbiUty of temper and opinion, whkh the haUitt 
of icvpt^ci*m ar« $a cakulated to produce, are thui ptri^icd 
for by Mr. Fov, la the v«ry «ketcti of Moniumith t& whidb I 
Kituda ; and thi* part of the picture ttm hLciurlan may be 
thtfUfht to have drawn from liim*el/. " One of iha moit 
lotikpkuoui fedturei In hU character lecm* to hava b«eKi a 
remarkable, and, lu luino think, a culpabta d«fr«« of lle«- 
IMIity. That tueh a dl«|ti4lt1on li predirablo |o lu oppoaite 
extreme will be adaillt«d by all, who think that tnodMty, 
urea (n e*cc*i, t» mot* nearly allied to wlwlom than ctMKvIt 
and •eir'auOlcicticy. He who bai ■tlenlltrcty cuniUlervd tins 
Jiolitlcat. or tniiecd the general coocerrtt of life, may p<jailbly 
go fttin Turihi-r, fti^t may rank a whUngne** to be convinced, 
•r, let »omf« catn, m%tm without conTktfoa, U> eonoede <nir 

\ 0WQ opjTik»t» to ttMt of oDiar ni«n. among Um prtadipal IngriT'^ 
At* In tho eotapoaltkm of praetkal wlMkita.'*^ It fa rlffht 
|)0 ohtoTVf, hfiwever^ that the ScqHk'i readinew ort^oreutau 
■r)ae« rather frrtm iiiu^ei-talnty tlian convictloa. more from a 
mtpjiii i '' T ' ' ' tlifo ntAy bv «rron^« than from .tny 

poniLQi <( hli ardteriari^ u rl^ht " It may 

b«»u,' uid tci-iHlcaJ fortniila, with whUh 



And when, perhaps, in pride ofclieiiJiic powers. 
We think the keys of Nature's kingdom ours, 
Soniv Duvy'fi mugic touch the dream unsettles, 
And turns at ouce our alkalis to mctaJs. 
Or, should we roam, in melaphytiic maze, 
Through fair^^huilt thtories of former days^ 
Some Dr^mm— nd ^ fh>m the north* more ahly 

skiird. 
Like other Goths, to ruin than to huild. 
Tramples triumphant through oiir fnnes o'erthmwn, 
Nor leaves one grace, one glory of his own. 

Oh I^earoing, whatsoe'er thy pomp and boost, 
£/«letter"d minds have taught and charm'd men 

most 
The rude» unread Columbus was our gtiide 
To worlds, whicla learn'^d Lactantius hatl denied; 
And one wild Shakspeare, following Nature"* lights. 
Is worth whole planeti^ filFd with Siagyritea. 

See grave Theology, when once she strays 
From Revehilion's path, what irieks she plays; 
What Yarinus heav'iis, — all fit for burds to sing,— 
Ilave churehrnen dream'd, from Papias" down lo 

King!* 
While hell itself, in India nought but smoke, ^ 
In Spain^s a fnrnace, and in Fraoee — a joke. 



the Dutch were accufltonted t» reply to Ute statcmivnt* of 
ambaiuulon. See Llo^d't Siaie WortJkKM, art. Sir Tbotnat 
Wyat. 

^ Daaeartet, who l» conitdered ai the par^^nt of modem 
■ceptldim^ cayi, that thpre u nothiof In tho whole range of 
phlloiophy whkrh doeg not admit of two oppuvkr oploNm*, 
mtd whlirh i* imt InrtiUcd In duubt and umerulnty. *' In 
PhlloAophla rtihJl adhur reperirl, 4e qua oon hi utraTiM|ue 
partem diiputatur. hoc e^t. qiiodiMsm nit Inrertum etdubium/' 
GaiAetidi i< likettiu^ to bo added ta the litt of modem Sr#^p. 
tici, ai:4 Wedderkopff, In hJ» DlMcrtatlofi ** De Jiceptklimo 
profano el aacro " ( Argentoral. iGGH). ba* dctaounced Eraimtu 
alto at a fttHilower of ^rrho, for hit opinion* upon the I'rinity, 
and lome other ■nt4«cti. To ttiete If we add. the naturpa of 
Bayle, Mallehranche, Drjden, Locke, Ac. Ac, I tblnk there 
It no iMie who oeod be aahamed of doubting In such com- 
pany. 

* See thli gentleman'! AtAdemic Qiieellonf^ 

7 Paplai llred about the tkmi^ of the apottki, and It tttp^ 
poted l(» have given birth tu tho hereby of the CThllli«ji(», 
whnie heaven wju by na mt^nm of a 4 ^d ritual nature,, but 
rather an anticipation of the Prophet of Hera'f rljalum. See 
Eutebliut^ lUtL E^cctetlAftt.lih.iii cap. 33., and Dieroaym. tie 
Scrlplor Kccletlakr — Krum all I ran Hind In three aulhori 
coocenilng Papttii, It iceroi hardly fair Co Impute to him 
thote grow ImagiiMttocu Id which tha hetieirertor the ieEi»ual 
mlllenntum I dulged. 

" King, In hit MarteU of Crltkiim, toL 1.. tuppoiM tlit fun 
to he the recepta* le of bicfttrd tplrtt*. 

■ The IndUnt rail holl " iJiv tlouw of Smok«/* See PIcart 
upon the Kellgkra of the Banlant. The rvwder who It eurlMM 
ahout Infernal oiauert. may bo cdliled by con4iiUli<g Ku>ca de 
Infertio, portJctilarly Hb« \l cap. 7, 8., where he will find tha 
precl«e tort of ire aieertatnod In waich wkked ipirlu are to 
be tMirtit^ bereafter. 




THE SCEPTIC, A SATIRE. 



147 



HaO, modest Igiumnce, thou goal and prize, 
Thoa last, best knoirledge of the simply wise I 
Hail, hmnbie Doabt, when eiror's waves are past. 
How sweet to reach thy shelter'd port > at last. 
And, there, by changing skies nor lur'd nor 

awed, 
&nile at the battling winds that roar abroad. 
There gentle Charity, who knows how frail 
The bark of Vutoe, eren in sommer's gale. 
Sits by the nightly fire, whose beacon glows 
For all who wander, whether friends or foes. 



There Faith retires, and keeps her white sail 

furl'd. 
Till call'd to spread it for a better world ; 
While Patience, watching on the weedy shore, 
And mutely waiting till the storm be o'er. 
Oft turns to Hope, who still directs her eye 
To some blue spot, just breaking in the sky I 

Such are the mild, the blest associates given 
To him who doubts, — and trusts in nought but 
Heaven I 



TWOPENNY POST-BAG. 

BY THOMAS BROWN, THE YOUNGER. 



EUpMB manibiM cecid6re tabcllff. Ovid. 



STEPHEN WOOLRICHE, ESQ. 

Mr DEAR WOOLRICHE, 

It is now abont seven years since I promised (and 
I griere to think it is almost as long since we met) 
to dedicate to you the very first Book, of whatever 
sixe or kind, I should publish. Who could have 
thought that so many years would elapse, without 
my giving the least signs of life upon the subject 
of this important promise? Who could have im- 
agined that a volume of doggerel, after all, would 
be the first ofiering that Gratitude would lay 
vpon the shrine of Friendship? 

If you continue, however, to be as much in- 
terested about me and my pursuits as formerly, 
yon will be happy to hear that doggerel is not my 
tmhf occupation ; but that I am preparing to throw 
my name to the Swans of the Temple of Immor- 
tality S leaving it, of course, to the said Swans to 
determine, whether they ever will take the trouble 
of picking it from the stream. 

In the mean time, my dear Woolriche, like an 
orthodox Lutheran, you must judge of me rather 
by mj faith than my works; and however trifling 



1 ** Cb^re Sceptique, douce pAture de mon ame, et riinlque 
port de Mlut k uDe esprit qui aime le repos I " — La Molhe le 
Vajftr. 



the tribute which I here offer, never doubt the fi- 
delity with which I am, and always shall be. 

Your sincere and 

attached Friend, 

THE AUTHOR. 

March 4. 1813 



PREFACE. 

The Bag, from which the following Letters are 
selected, was dropped by a Twopenny Postman 
about two months since, and picked up by an 
emissary of the Society for the Suppression of Vice, 
who, supposing it might materially assist the pri- 
vate researches of that Institution, immediately 
took it to his employers, and was rewarded hand- 
somely for his trouble. Such a treasury of secrets 
was worth a whole host of informers; and ac- 
cordingly, like the Cupids of the poet (if I may 
use so profane a simile) who " fell at odds about 
the sweet-bag of a bee 3,'* those venerable Sup- 
pressors almost fought with each other for the 
honour and delight of first ransacking the Post- 



s Ariotto, canto 85. 
s Herrick. 



148 



UOOBB'S WORE& 



llag. Unluckily, liowcTer^ it turned out. upon 
^XAtnmation, thflt tbe discoverius of profligacy 
which it enabled them to make, lay chiefly in tha6«!> 
upficr regions of society, which Iheir well-bred 
rcguhitions forbid them to molest or meddle with* 
— In consequence, they gained but very tVw 
victims by their pnre, ftnd, after lying for a week 
or two under Mv. Hiitchard's counter, the Bag, 
with it« violated coutentK, wiu sold for a IrtQe to a 
frieiid of mine. 

It happened that I hud been just ihea seized 
with an ambition (having never tried the strength 
of my wing but in a Newspaper) to publish some- 
thing or other in the shape of a Hook ; and it 
occurred to me that, the present being such a 
letter- writing era, a few of these Twopenny- Post 
Epistles, turned into easy verse, would be an liglit 
and popular a to&k as I could possibly select far a 
eommeucement. 1 did not, however, think it pru- 
dent to give too many Letters at first, and, ac- 
cordingly have been obliged (in order to eke out 
a suMeicnt Dumber of pages) to reprint some of 
those triHeSj which hod already appeared in the 
public jaumals. Aa in the battles of ancient times, 
the shades of tbe departed were sometimes seen 
among the combatants, so I thought I might manage 
to remedy t he tbinnessof my ran kg by couj uring up a 
few dead and forgotten epbemerons to fill tliem. 

Such are the motives and accidents that led to 
the present publication ; and as this is the first 
time mj Muse has ever ventured! out of the go-cart 
of a Newspaper, though f feel all a pa.reQt*6 deligbf 
at seeing little Miss go alone, I am also not without 
a parent's anxiety, lest an nnlucky fkll should Ik* 
the consequence of the experiment; and I need 
not point otit how many living instances might be 
found, of Muses that have suffered very severely 
in their heads, from taking rather too early and 
rashly to their feet. Ik'siiles, a IkKtk is so very 
different a thing from u Newspaper I — in the 
former, your doggerel, without either company or 
shelter, must stand shivering in the middle of a 
bleak page by itaetf; whereat, in the latter, it la 
comfortably l»cked by advertisement]^, and baa 
•Ofnetimea even a Speech of Mr. ^t — pb^— n's, or 
MMHetlling equally warm, for a ctm^Jft-pt^^so 
that, in general, the very reverse of " Uiud&tur et 
alget '* is its destiny. 

Ambition, howerer, must run some risks, and I 
shall be very well satisfied if the reception of these 
few Letters should have tbe effect of sending me 
to Ihe Post- Bag for more. 



Pfth, 1 » If y ftl«oi Mftalnlf esnaat odd . 




PREFACE 

TO TllK rolRTEKNTIl EDITIOSJ. 
BY A. FRIEKD OF TBE AirTDOIL 

In the absence of Mr. Brown, who is at present 

on a tour through * I feel myself called 

upon, as his frieud, to notice certain mij$conceplions 
and mEsrepresentations, to which this little volume 
of Trifles has given rise. 

In tlie first place, it is not true that Jlr. Brown 
has had any accomplices in the work. A imte, 
iudeed, which bos hitherto accompanied his Pre- 
face, may very naturally have bt^en the origin of 
such a STippo&itioQ ; but that note, whieb was 
merely tlie co*iuetr)' of an author, I have, in the 
present edition, taken upon myself to remove, and 
Mr- Brown must therefore be considered (like tbe 
mother of that unique production, tlie Centaur, 
fiova HOI fiovoM ') as alone resp^iUAible for the whole 
contents of the volume. 

In the next place it has been said, that in 
consequence of this grmceleas little book, a certain 
distinguished Personage prevailed upon another 
distinguished Personage to withdraw from the 
author that notice and kindness with 'Mhieh he 
had so long and so liberally honoured liim. In 
this story there is not one syllable of Injlb. For 
the magnanimity of the former of these persons 1 
would, indeed, in no case answer t*K) rashly ; but 
of the conduct of the latter towards my friend, I 
have a proud gratification in decbiriDg, that it has 
never ceased to be such as he must remember with 
indelible gratitude; — a gratitude the more cheer- 
fully and warmly paid, from its not being a debt 
incurred solely on his own account, but for kind- 
ness shared with those nearest and dearest to bim. 

To the charge of being an Irishman, poor 
Mr. Brown pleads guilty; and I believe it most 
also he acknowledged that he comes of a Roman 
Catholic family: an avowal which I am aware li 
decisive of his utter reprobation, in the ey^a of 
those exclusive patentees of Christianity, so worthy 
to have been tlie followers of a certain enlightened 
Bishop, Ikmatns^ who held '* that God is in Africa 
and not tiaewhere,'* But from all this it does not 
necessarily follow that Mr. Brown is a Papist y and, 
indeed, 1 have the strongest reaaons for suspecting 
that they, who say so, are somewhat mistaken. 
Not that I presume to have ascertained his opinions 
upon sucli subjects* AH I profess to know of his 
orthodoxy is. that be has a Protestant wife and 



* Blthep or Cu* KlfTS, is the Iburth cretmy. 



TWOPENNY POST-BAG, 



119 



two «rr tliree Utile Protestant chiidren» and thAt be 
Ins beea mco at churcb ever; Sandfly, for a whole 
ytMT together, liatenlxig to the sermons of his truly 

rrrerend wad uniable friend. Dr. , and 

behaving there m well and as orderly aa moat 
pMfile. 

Thrtsre are yet a few other mistakes and false- 
hoods aboat Mr Brown, to which I had intended^ 
with all becoming graTity, to advert; but I b^gia 
to tJuitk the task ia qmte aa useleas as it is tiresome. 
lfjn«]ncseiitadoiia and caiumnies of this sort are, 
lOw tiie argmneots and stalements of Dr. Dntgenxm, 
— not at all the lew Tiracions or leas serriceable 
to their fiibricatora, for having been refuted and 
dllcprored a thousand times over. They are 
broogbt forward again, as good as new, whenerer 
nuilSee or sinpi^ty may be in want of lb cm; and 
are quite aa nsefbl as the old broki^n lantera, in 
Ftelding'a Amelia, which the watchman always 
keepa rendj by htm, to produce, in proof of riotous 
ftjodnci, igunst his victims. I «hall t h^^ re fore gi ve 
Vp the Ihdtlesa toil of vindication, and would even 
draw my pen over what I have ukeadj written, 
had t ooi promised to ftimisb my publisher with 
a Prdace* and know not how else 1 could contrive 
to eke it ouL 

I have added two or three more trifles to this 
edition, which I found in the Morning Chronicle, 
and knew to be from the pen of my friend. Th*> 
rest of the volume remains ■ in its ohgina] state. 

. ItH. 



INTERCEPTED LETTERS, 



LETTER I. 



ntoM TUB PR— nc — 

TO TRE LADY 



CH— RL— E OF W^L— a 
— RH — 'A ABHL^V,* 



Mr dear l^adj Bab, you'll be shoek'd, I'm afmid^ 
When you hear the sad rumpus your Ponies have 
made; 

' A MW nudlng hai bora lugeejled In the orEglcal of the 
Od# of Horace, ff«ljr trsnsUtM by I^md Eld— «i, pAg« \m. 
tn thf Uo* " Stve per Sfrtcli iter a^tluoiat," It h pro|KH#<l. 
by a very trlflini^ altenMinn, to read "Sutltet," in»t*vi *' ajnr- 
Isla,*' whkh brtnR^ the Ode, it It ^d. inore hnme to the noble 
or, ftiid gWca « peculUr force Ami Aplnett to lh« cpU 



Since the time of hone-consula (now long oot r^ 

date). 
No nags ever made such a stir in the state. 
Lord £ld^ — n first heard — and as instantly pray*d be 
To **God and his King" — that a Popish young I^dy 
(For though you've bright eyes and twelve thousand 

a yew. 
It is still but too tme yoo*re a Papist, my dear,) 
Ilad insidiously sent, by a tall Irish groom. 
Two priest- ridden Ponies, jnst landed from Rome, 
And so full, little rogues, of pontifical tricka, 
That the dome of St Paul's was scarce aalie from 

their kicks. 

Off at once to Papa, in a flurry he flies ^ — 
For Papa always does what these statesmen advise. 
On condition that they ^11 he^ in tum^ so polite 
As in DO case whate'er to advise him too riyht — 
•' Pnlly doings ar^ here. Sir, (he angrily cries, 
While by dint of dark eyebrows he Btrives to look 

wise)— 
** *Tis a scheme of the Romanists, so help me Godt 
** To ride over your moat Royal Highness roughs 

shod — 
"Excuse, Sir, my tears — they're from loyalty's 

source — 
" Bad enough 'twas for Troy to be sack'd by ft 

■* But for US to be ruin*d by Ponies still worse T 
Quick a Council is called — the w hole Cabinet sits — 
The Archbishops declare, frightened out of their 

wits. 
That if once Popish Ponies should eat at my manger. 
From that awful moment the Church is in danger 1 
As, give them but stabling,, and shortly no stalls 
Will suit their proud stomachs but tliose at St. Paul's. 

The Doctor \ and he, the devout man of Leather ^, 
V— ns — tt — t, now laying their Saint-heads 

together. 
Declare that these skittish youog o-bominalions 
Are clearly foretold in Chap, vi, RevebtiODS — 
Nay, they verily think they could point out the one 
Which the Doctor s friend Death was to canter upon. 

Lord H — rr — by, hoping that no one imputes 
To the Court any fancy to persecute brutes. 
Protests, on the word of liiinself and his cronies. 
That had these said creatures been Asses, not Ponies, 
The Conrt would have started no sort of objection, 
As Asses were, (Ittre, always sure of protection. 



thet " »tuoui." I Rierelj throw oijt thlt aoipndatJfHi for 
tha iMftied, tM^ng nTmbLe mfMirto decide upnn it» merfta* 

> This jatitif Ladf, who it a RotnAa CAihallc, had IjiUjIj 
mBde B pre«ciiC <iiyf loine t)c«utirul Pofilcii to the fr— nc — ^i«. 

5 Mr. Addhigtoo, lo nirldoatnfd^ 

1 Alluding to Atxx lately Iftid upon {«ftlhor. 



I 



150 



MOORE'S WORKS. 



** If the Pr— »c — SB will keep tbein (says Lord 

C— fitl-r— g:h), 
'* To niake them quite liarmleAS, the only true way 
•* Is (ascertain Chief Jo^tict?* do with their wivc«) 
•• To flog them w ithin half an inch of their lives. 
** If tbejVe any bad Irish blood lurking about, 
•' This (he knew by experience) would soon draw 

it out." 
Should this be thought cruel, his Lordship proposes 
•• The new Veto snaffle * to bind down their noses — 
•• A pretty contrivance., made out of old chaine, 
•• Which appears to indulge, while il doubly re- 
fit nuns ; 
•• Which » however high-mettled, their gtmesonie* 

neas checks 
*■ (Adda his Lordihip hunumely), or elae breaka 
their neckt!'* 

Thi* proposal receiv'd pretty general applause 
From the statesmen around — and the neek-breok- 

ing clause 
Had a vigonr about it, which soon reconcifd 
Even Eld— n himself to a raeaaure so natld. 
So the snaffles my dear, were agreed to, nem.ctm.^ 
And my Lord C — stl — r — gh, bavbg »o often 

shone 
In the Jhiierimg line, ta to buckle them on. 

I ihalt drive to your door in these Vetos some day, 
But, at present, adieu I — I rniist hurry away 
To go aee my Mamma, as Vm. suffered to meet her 
For just half an hour by the Qu — n's best repeater* 

Ch — WL — TTE. 



LETTER IL 

rmoif coLoirEi. v*x — b — v to q 
L— CUE, caq. 



-Li> tn — KC- 



Deah Sir, Fve just had time to look 
Into your very learned Book ,* 
Wherein — d£ plain as man can apeak, 
Whtwse English is half modem Oreck- 
Yon pfx)ve that we can ne'er intrench 
Onr happy isles against the French, 
Till Royalty in England's made 
A much more independent trade; — 



* Thm qnerttoti irHpttMr a Veto w«t to b* altovrvdl to th« 
Cr««ii tn th« appo(nimf>nt of Irltli Catholtc Bbhopt wo*, at 
lilts tliM, vr«7 tafw^lf «nd aetl^clr aftuicd. 

* fm an aeaottiU of thU v^trmoriltnafT work of Mr. L«cl(l«» 
sat dM " EAlabanh ft«*lev/' vol . %%. * 



In short, until the Iloose of Ouelph 
Lays Lords und Commons on the ahelf. 
And boldly sets up for itael£ 

All, that con well Im? understood 
In this said Boo!^, ia vastly good ; 
And, as to what's incomprehensible, 
I dare be sworn *tis full as sensible* 

But, to your work's immortal credit, 
The Pr— n — e, good Sir, the Fr— n— « has read it 
(The only Book, himself remarks. 
Which he has read since Mrs* Clarke's). 
Lost levee^mom he lookM it through, 
During that awful hour or two 
Of grave tonsorinl preparation. 
Which, to a fond, admiring nation. 
Sends forth, nnnounc'd by trump and dmm. 
The best-wigg'd Fr — n — e in Christendom. 

He thinks with you, th' imagination 
Of partnerjthip in legislation 
Could only enter in the noddles 
Of dull and ledger-keeping twaddles. 
Whose heads onjirms are running so. 
They ev'n must have a King and Co,, 
And hence, most eloquently show forth 
On chrcks and balances, and so forth. 

But now, he trusts, we*re coming near a 
Far more royal, loyal era { 
>Vhen England's monarch need bat say, 
" Whip me those scoundrels, C — stl — ^r— gh T 
Or, ■* Hang me up those Fapists, Eld— n^*' 
And HwtU be done — ay, faith, and well done* 

With view to which, Fve his command 
To beg» Sir, from your travelled hand, 
(Round which the foreign graces swarm)" 
A Flan of Radical Reform ; 
Compird and chos'n as best yoa eaa, 
In Turkey or at Ispahan, 
And qiiite upturning, branch and root. 
Lords, Commons, and Burd6tt to booC 

But, pray, whate'ef you may impart^ write 
Somewhat more brief than iljyor C — rtwr — ght: 

Else, though the Fr e be long to rigging, 

T would take, at least, a fortnight's wigging,— 
Two wigs to every paragraph — 
Eefbre he well could get through halt 



• ** The mitH inde«d temn* to be. thai havinf lit«il to to«i 
abroad a« •vi<Wntlj to liata loal. In a r'**t •l^S'*'. tJw w- of 
HU native lancuafe, Mr. i^ecJile Imu ttmAvmMf C0««>^ i*ni «m\f 
to afwak, IniI to feci. Uko a IbrelsMr." EOmhmrtk Mr 



1 




^^^^^^ 


■ 




INTEBCEPTBD LBTTEBS. 151 


1 


ToaH seod it also speedilj^^ 






Aft, truth to aaji 'twixt yoo and me. 


LETTER 111. 


■ 




Hit Hlghnets, heated by your work. 




■ 




Alf«ady thinks himself GraDd Turk! 
And yoa*d hare l«ugb*d, bad vou s«cn bow 


FROM O— OE PB--CB B— O — T TO TUB 


I 










He ecar'd the Ch — nc — U — r j list now. 




1 




Wheo (,om hia Lordiihip's entering puff'd) he 


We niiss'd you lost nigh tat the " hoary old sinner's,"' 


■ 




Sa{>p*d hia back and caird him ^lufii!" i 


Who gave us, as usual, the cream of good dinners ; 
His soups scientific — his fishes quite prime — 


1 




The tailon too have got commandtt ' 


His pall's superb — and his culk'ts sublime! 


■ 




To put directly into hands 


In short, *twas the snug sort of dinner to stir a 


■ 




All forts of Diiiiraias and Poucbea, 


Stomachic orgasm in my l#ord El— b — gh^ 


■ 




With Sashes, Tarbans, and Paboatcheiu 


Who Mf lo, to be sure» with miraculous force, 


■ 




(While Y— nn— th's sketching out a plan 


And exclaimed, between moothfuls, " a He-Cook of 


■ 




Of oew MouMUich£3 tf VOttomant) 


course ! — 


■ 




And all things fitting and expedient 


** While you liTe^-(wbal*s there under that corisrf 


■ 




To turkiftf our gracioiis R — g^-ntl 


pray, look)— 
** Willie you live — (Fll just taste it) ne'er keep a 


1 




Too, therefore, have ao time to waste -^ 


Sbe-t^ook. 






Soi^ ftend your System. — 


" 'Tis a souud Salic Law — (a small bit of tliat 






Yours, in baste. 


toast)— 
" Which ordains that a female shall neVr rule the 

roast; 
** For Cookery's a secret— (this lurile*s uneom- 






POSTSCRIPT. 


mon) — 
** Like Masonry^ never found out by a woman T* 






Before I send this scrawl away. 








1 seise a moment, just to say. 


The dinner, yon know, was in gay celebration 






There's some parts of the Turkish systi*m 


Of ™^ brilliant triumph and H — ufs condemna- 






So Tiilgar, 'twere as well you miss'd 'em* 


tion J 






For instance — in Seraglio matters^ 


A compliment, too, to his Lordship the Judge 






Your Turk,, whom girlish fondness flatters, 


For his Speech to the Jury — and zounds! who 






Would fin hia Haram (tasteless fool!) 


would grudge 






With Itltenng, red-cheek'd things from school 


Turtle soup, though it came to five guineas a 




1 Bal here (m in Ihiit fairj laod. 


bowl. 




^Bm Where Ixi^e ancl Age went band in hand; ■ 


To reward such a loyal and complaisant soul? 




^^HL Where lips, till sutty« shed no houeVt 


We were all in high gig — Roman Punch and To- 




^^^H And Grandams were worth nny money,) 


kay 




T 


^ Our So 1 tan has much riper notions— > 


Traveird round, till our heads travelled just the 






So, let your list of Wif- promotions 


same way ; 






loclode those only, plump and sage, ' 


And we car'd not for Juries or Libels— no ^ 






^Tio'vc reached the regui/ition'2igi&; 


damme ! nor 






That is, (us near as one can fix 


Ev'n for the threats of lost Sunday's Examiner 1 






From Peerage dates) fcill fifly-six. 


More good things were eaten than said ^ hot 






This rTile*t for fav*rite» — nothing more — 


Tom T— rrh — t 






For, as to wivt*, a Grand Signor, 


In quoting Joe Miller, you know, has some merits 






Though not decidedly witliout them. 


And, hearing the slurdy Justiciary Chief 






Need never care one curse about them. 


Say — sated with turtle— " 111 now try the beef" — 




1 


B » THelMmed OjintieJ iniwtt illiid« li#rfi to « deicrlptJ««i 


niraln. " Thone U nothing;. beUcrc me, more engajrlns thnn 




r 


Of Che Mj««rlou» lilt, tn ihfl Hlitory of A1kI*1I«, Son of 


tlioi« lortlf viiiiklet," Ac, &e. -^ S«« Ttites qf the Emtr vol. 




m 


HutK. whprf tuch InTcnloni of thp ©rdrt of naUne am iaid 


tll.pn.«ffr<J«*. 




I 


lo b«ve laim pl*c«, — " A icore of old wom^Mi iindl the MJnfl 


» ITil* ktlw*, Of. tbe r*»t1cr wHI p(«rer(TP, wm wTltten tlM 




■ 


auaiber of old mm ptaf ed li*re mwl there in the court, towe 


dsj uTtet a. dlQn«r gtven bjf the M — rq.— « of H— d^t. 




1 


«t cliuck-fArtbInK, othen nt ttp-cat ht at cockles:'* — And 








1 




i 



152 



MOORE'S WOliKa 



Tommy wblsper'd him (giving his Tjordship a sly 

hit) 
•* I fear 'twill be hung-hecf, my Lord, if vov try 

it I" 

And C— md — n wbs there, who, thjit momljag, 

hud gone 
To fit his new Marqub's coronet on j 
And the dish set before him — oh dish well-d«* 

vi8*d I — 
Wna^ %but old Mother Gla&se collfi, " a calTs head 

Bwrpris'd ! '* 
The hrainit were near Sh^ — ry, and once had been 

fine, 
But, of Iftte, they had lain so long s-nakmg in wine, 
That, ihongh we, from courtesy^ still eho&e %o exill 
These braiua very fine, they were no brains at alJ. 

When the dinner was over, we drank every one 
In a bumper, ** the venial delight* of Crim, Con.;** 
At which H— df— t with wann refnini«eenees 

gloated. 
And E — b'r — h chnckled to bear himself quoted. 

Our next round of toasts wan a fancy finite new, 
For we drank— and you'll own *twa» benevolent 

too — 
To those well-meaning huabanda, cita, parsona« or 

peers. 
Whom we've, any time, honour*d by courting 

their dears : 
Thb mnaeom of wittols waa comical rather s 
Old II— df— t gave M — as — y, and I gave your 

f_tb^r. 

In short, not n soul till thi« morning wottld 
hndge — 
We were all fun and frolie, — and even theJ— ^-e 
Laid aakJe, for the time, his juridical faahion, 
And through the whole night waan*t once in a pas- 
sion ! 



I write ihiA in bed, while my whisk ei^ ire air- 

ing, 

^^K And M — e > has a sly dose of jalap preparing 

^^H For poor T — mmy T — rr^t at breakfast to quaff — 

^^^1 As r feel I want something to give me a laugh, 

^^H Aud there's nothing so good as old T — mmy, kept 
^^^H dote 

^^^P To his Comwall accounts^ after taking a dose. 

I 



I Colonet tl*Mahim. 

• TW» l*»Uer, miiirli tonUluod toroe tcry luMTy tndoturtii* 
ni to \%l^v^^ lK'ci> vrnt lo London by « YT\rmt» haad, smd 
a put into th« Twopenny Foit-OAce, to MTtttraotele. Set 



* In •«adlnf tkl* alMat to Um Prtss^ howevtir. I l«4irti that 



LETTER IV. 

FfiOM THE BIGEIT HON. P— ^TB— CR J>— OEN — If 
TO THE niCIlT UON, Bi!t J — HN K— Ctt — L. 

Last week, dear N — ch — I, making merry 
At dinner wilh our Secretary, 
When all were drunk, or pretty near 
(The time for doing bnsini'ss here), 
Says he to me, " Sweet Bully Bottom ! 
** These Pupiirt dogs — biccup — "ofl rot 'em I — 
" IX*»erve to l>e lueKpatterd — hiccup- — 
*' With all the dirt ev'n you can pick up. 
" But, as the Pr— ce (bere*B to him^ — ^flU — 
" Hip, hip, hurra !)^i8 trj'ing still 
** To humbug them with kind professions, 
** And, as ifou deal in strontj exprei^aions — 
** Rogve'^ — "tranVor" hiceiip — und all that — 
** Von must be muzzled. L>octor Fat 1^ — 
** You must indeed — hiccup— 'that's flat** — 

Yes — "mtizjfiled" was the word, Sir John — 
These fools have clapp'd a muitssle on 
The boldest month that e'er ran o'er 
With slaver of the times of yore !^ — 
Was it for this that baek I went 
As far as Late ran and Trent, 
To proi-^ that tbey, who damn*d us then, 
Ought now, in turn, be damn*d again ? — 
The silent victim still to sit 
Of Gr— tl — n's fire and C — ^nn^g*s wit. 
To hear cv*n noisy M — th — w gabble on* 
Nor mention once the W — e of Babylon ! 
Oh ! *tis too much — who now will be 
The Nightman of No- Popery? 
What Courtier, Saint, or even Bishop, 
Such learned filth will ever fish up f 
If there among our ranks be one 
To take my place, 'tis fAow, Sir John ; 
Thon, wbo, like me, art dabb'd Right Hon. 
Like me too, art a Lawyer Civil 
That Wishes Paplita at the devil- 
To whom then but to thee, my friend. 
Should Patrick* his Port-folio send ? 
Take it — 'tis thine — his learn *d Port*folio, 
With all its theologic olio 
Of Bulb, half Irish and half Roman — 
Of Doctrines, now bcliev*d by no man — 

Um ** niiml« '^ hat been Uk*n olT, snd tbo lUffbt lloii. Doctor 
afiin let hxw* I 

4 A bid Dsaw for povtfy; but D-fta^^ Is Mfll «or««.— 
As FrtidMiilus saf • u^n a f^ry dUlbrvDl mIii^— 

Toniuetur Apollo 
WovniDt pcreuvii*. 




INTERCEPTED LETTERS. 



153 



or GooMiK iNld Ibr MB't idtatioB, 

Tet alwa^ cndiDg in litnimtinn — 

(Whidi ihovt tbat» mot dM worid't crasioii, 

Toor PriMta, wliate'er their gende ihiuninmg, 

Hmve al vays bad a taHe for damning,) 

And many more soeh pioiia fcrapc, 

To prore (what wt^ hmg proT*d, periiaps*) 

That» mad as Chriitiaiif «'d to be 

Aboot the Thirteenth Centorj, 

There stfll are Cbiittiane to be had 

Id thia, the Ninelecntht Joit ai mad ! 

Farewen— I lend with this, dear N— cb— 1, 
A rod or two Tre had in pielde 
Wherewith to trhn old Or— tt— n*s jacket— 
The reatshall go by Hbnday's packet 

P. D. 

Amomg Ae Emdoturta m ike fortgoing Letter woe 
Ae JoBowimg ** OmtmgwerabU Argument against 
AePdpute." 

• • • • 

We*bb told the ancient Roman nation 
Made use of spittle in lustration ; i 
{Vide Lactantiom ^ Galkeom — « 
I. e. ycm need not read bat eee 'em ;) 
Now, Irish Pitpists, fiict sorprising. 
Hake ose of qnttle in baptizing ; 
Which prores them all, OTinns, OTagans, 
Connors, and Tooles, all downright Pagans. 
This &ct*s enough ; — let no one tell us 
To free such sad, eaiioous fellows. — 
No, no — the man, baptiz*d with spittle. 
Hath no truth in him — not a tittle ! 



LETTER V. 

PaOX THE COUNTESS DOWAGER OF C — RK 
TO LADY 



Mt dear Lady- 



-! Fve been just sending out 



About fire hundred cards for a snug little Rout — 
(By the bye, youWe seen Rokeby ? — this moment 

got mine — 
The Maii-Coach Editions-^ prodigiously fine ;) 

I Liutralibui antd salivis 

ExiiUt. PBBS.Mt.a. 

* I 1mt« taken the trouble of examining the Doctor's re- 

fveoea b«re, and find blm, for once, correct. The following 

an Cha woida of his Indignant reCsree, Gallseus : — " Asserere 



Bat I can*t coooeiTe how, in this rery cold weather, 
Fm erer to bring my five hundred together { 
As, unless the thermometer's near boiling heat. 
One can nerer get half of one*s hundreds to ineet 
(Apropos — you'd haye langh'dto see Townsend 

last night. 
Escort to their chairs, with his staff, so polite. 
The ** three maiden Miseries," all in a fright ; 
Poor Townsend, like Mercury, filling two posts. 
Supervisor of thieuee, and chief-usher of ghosts /) 

But, my dear Lady , can't yon hit on 

some notion, 
At least for one night to set London in motion? — 
As to having the R— g — nt, that show is gone by — 
Besides, I've remark'd that (between you and I) 
The Marchesa and he, inconvenient in more ways, 
Have taken much lately to whispering in doorways; 
Which — consid'ring, you know, dear, the sue of 

the two — 
Makes a block that one's company caaao< get 

through ; 
And a house such as mine is, with doorways so 

small, 
Has no room for such cumbersome love-work at 

all.— 
(Apropos, though, of love-work— you've heard it, 

I hope. 
That Napoleon's old mother's to marry the Pope,— 
What a comical pair !) — but, to stick to my Rout, 
'Twill be hard if some novelty can't be struck out 
Is there no Algerine, no Kamchatkan arriv'd? 
No Plenipo Pacha, three-tail'd and ten-wiv*d ? 
No Russian, whose dissonant consonant name 
Almost rattles to fragmenU the trumpet of fame ? 

I remember the time, three or four winters back. 
When — provided their wigs were but decently 

black — 
A few Patriot monsters, fW>m Spain, were a sight 
That would people one's house for one, night after 

night 
But — whether the Ministers paw*d them too 

much — 
(And you know how they spoil whatsoever they 

touch) 
Or, whether Lord O — rge (the young man about 

town) 
Has, by dint of bad poetry, written them down. 
One has certainly lost one's peninatUar rage ; 
And the only stray Patriot seen for an age 

non Teremur sacrum baptlsmnm a Paplstls profanari, eC sputl 
usum in peocatorum expiatione a Paganls non a ChrlfUanls 

s See Mr. Murray's AdvOTtlMment aboot tbe MalUGoecb 
copies of Rok^. 



134 



MOORE\S WOUKS. 



n«« been at such places (think, how tb^ fit cixAb !) 
As old Mrs. V— gh — ii*s or Lord L— v— rp — I's. 

But, in short* my dear, names like WmtztBchll- 

stopscb in xoudhofi" 
Are the only thiDga now make an ev'iiing go 

fimooth off: 
So, get me a Russian — till death Fro yourdehtor — 
If he hrings the whole Alphabet, so umch the bet- 

ler. 
And — ^Ltjrd! if he would but, in characttr^ sup 
t>if his fish'oil and con dies, he*d tjuite set nie up ! 

Au rttHjir^ my sweet girl — 1 mii*t leave you m 
haste— 
Little Gutiter has brought me the Liqueurs to taste. 



POSTSCRIPT. 

Br the bye, bave you fotmd any friend that can 

construe 
That Latin aecount, fotbcr day, of a Monaster? * 
If we can't get a Russian, and th*it tliin^ in I^aiin 
Be not too improper, I chink I'll bring tliat In, 



LETTER VL 

FROM ABDAtiLAll *, IN IX>N1>0N, TO MOHASSAK, 
IN laPAMAH. 

Whilst thou, IVIohassiin, (happy thou!) 
Dost daily bend thy loyal brow 
Before our King — otir Asia's treasure J 
Ntttnieg of Comfort; Rose of Pleasure I — 
And bear'st as many kieks and bruises 
As the said Rose and Nutmeg chooses \ 



» Alludtnt. I auppoMi, to thp Latin AdTertlunnctit of a 
Lti»ut Natur» In thir Newnpuprri Utelj. 

* I hate made fnanjr inquiriet about thlt Pprtian gentle- 
maiD, but caniKii latiiractorllj aicertain nrliO' he It. From 
hU DOCkMii of Hell^loui Llbrrty, howerer, ] condude thai hf! 
iiaa Importatlan o( Mlnl«ti*rii and he hai arrlvMl Jiut Id 
tlma to aatUt the P^^-e and Mr. L—ck— « fu thtlr new 
Oriental Plaii! o^f Reronn. — S«c the i«cond of thrte L«tt«rA. 
How Abdallalh't cpiitle to Icpahin found lu way Into iUr 
Twopcaaj Fbit*Bag it mora ihui 1 can prrtead to account 
for. 

' •• Oit un honntt* booijnt," »ald a Ttirkfih gotvrnot of 
Dm Ruftffr j " c>it arand dooiinaca qu'l) ioll Chretien/' 

« BmmUim and S/Mtrt art tbs two iMdJat locta into wbkh 
Aa MalianMiCan world ii dlvMad « and tbaf havt foo« oo 
(vrMHf and pen«cvtlng meh other, wtthovt anjr InlcnnUiioa, 
for abmH alAvan Kondrod jr«ar«, Tb* Smumi li the ettafaUalied 
Md la Turkey, and the SAi'a in Perila ; and tha ^thmmimB 



Thy head still near the bowstring's borders. 

And hut k'ft on till further orders — 

Through London streets with (urban fair. 

And caftiin, floating to the air, 

I saunter on, the admiration 

Of tbis short-eoftled population — 

This sew*d up rare — (hi* hnlttfm'd uation — 

Who, while they boost tljeir lans so free, 

Leave not one liuib at liberty i^ 

Hut live, with nil their lordly spiyeches. 

The slaves of buttons and tight breeches. 

Yet, though they thus their knee-pans fetter 
(They're Christians, and they know no better)^ 
In some things they're a thinking nation ; 
And, on Religious Toleration, 
I own I like their notions c/wt/i?, 
They are so Pernian and so right ! 
You know our Sunnites », — hateful dogs! 
Whom every pious Shiite flogs 
Or longs to flog* — "tia true, ibey pray 
To GckI, hut in an ill-bred way ; 
With neither arms, nor \QgE^ nor faces 
Stuck in their right, canonic plaecs.^ 
'Tis trae, they worship Ali's name' — 
7%eir Heaven and ours are just the same — 
(A Persian*8 Heav'n is easily made. 
Tit hut hlaek eyes and lemouarle.) 
Yet, though we've tried for centuries hack — 
We can't persuade this stuhhom pack. 
By bastinadoes, screws, or nippers, 
To wear th' established pea- green slippers.* 
Then, only think, the libertines 1 
They wash their toes — they comb their chins ^, 
With many more such deadly sins ; 
And what's the worst (though last I rank it), 
Believe the Chapter of the Blanket J 

Yet, spite of tenets so flagitious, 
(WTiich mwtlt at bottom, l>e seditious ; 



t>nt«een ih^m turn elileftjr upon thoie Important fKrInli, 
whkh o4.ir ploui fHeod Altdallah, In the true vplrit of Slillte 
Aneendpnrjr, repirotiatet In thb Letter, 

^ '* Lci Sunnlt<?f , qui Violent comiae Id Cathollqu«a de 
M Ui VI I manlime, " — D*Herdetiitw 

* " Jo ODintradiitlnctioii to the .Sotinlt. whi} tn their p^yen 
cro«a their bandi oa the lower part of th«k bre«B(, the Schl- 
oh I drop their armi Id itralght Hnri ; and as the Hounli, at 
crrtAin fxrrSodi of the prajcr, pre§« their (breheadt on the 
Ifrmiiut or rarpet» the Schlah>," Ac, Ac, — Fs>nter*» Foifiagt. 

7 " L4» Turci oa dfttactcDl pai AU rMproquemnit | sti 
eootraliri'. lU le reeoDDolsacfit," Ar^ Ac — CAardm, 

* ' The Shiltea weir irwn tllpp*^!, which the Sunnltei 
eon tide r a* « irroat ahominatkin," — Aftfrt/r. 

* YtiT these polttti of difference, a* veil ai for the Chapter 
of th« Blanket, I must r«fer the reader (not havlnf the (nxiA 
bf in«) to Pkart*! Account of the llahometan Secta. 



I 




IKTEBCEPTED LETTERS. 



U5 



9 mam living wcmld fefine 
GfvcB alippeis, but from treuoooof rkrm%i 
Kor wBsb his toe»^ bat with iotent 
To oTtTtiim tbe gOTiarnment*) — 
Sadi ■• ooi* mild and tolenint waj. 
We oftlj curse them twice a day 
( According to a Forni thal'i set), 
Xt^ far tratn torturiDg, onlf let 
MM ciitlk4xloit beli€v«rs beat 'em, 
AaA tvUeii thdr beards, where'er the/ meet * 

Aa to tbe rest, tbe j*re free to do 
Wbate'er tbeii' hncy prompts them to, 
PtQvided they make oothing of it 
Towards rank or bonotii-, power or profit ; 
Wbkfa tliinga. we oat*ralljr expect* 
Beloo^ to us, ibe Eseabllsh'd sect. 
Who disbelieve (tbe Lord be than Wed 
Tb* aforesaid Chapter of the Blanket. 
Tbe fiune mild views of Toleratioa 
Inspire , I find, tbls buttoned aatloa, 
Wbose PspisU (full a* giv'n to roguo. 
And oqIt Sumittes witli a brogue) 
Fare jost as well, with all their fuss, 
As rascsl SonnittfS do with us. 

Tbe tender Gazel I enclose 
Is for in J love, my Syrian Rose — 
Take it when ni^ht begins to foil, 
And throw it o*cr her mother's wall. 



GAZEL. 

BncsxBCBEST thou the hour we pastt-i-' 
Thai boar the happiest and the last? 
Oh I not so sweet the Sihu thona 
To sunnner bees, at break of mom, 
Not half so sweet, tbroagh dak and dell, 
To CameU* ears the tinkling bell, 
As la tbe loothing memory 
Of that one precioos hour to me. 

How can we live^ i*o far apart? 
Ohl why not ruthcp, heart to heart. 

United lire atid die — 
tike those sweet birds, that fly together, 
¥rith feather always touching feather^ 

Link'd by a hook and eye! ' 



* THIa « 111 appeftr itran^ to mh f^ngllib reader, but It \» 
llNnlty tnmflated frmn AbdAllliJi*! Peri.lAii, aod the curio uj 
tolrd bu which ho nlludpf !• the JMftaJt, of which I flnd the TdI- 
\om\n$ iiiccount In Rlchjirdion : — " A tort of tilrd, Ihitt H uld 
to hiiire iHit oa* wing ; on the oppoRlte Rick to whlrh the mule 
has m hook rikI the femnle « rlfif , to Ihmt, wbeo tbejr flj, thc^ 
•re i5ntimad tofethor." 

* Froca motlvei of dtllcacy. uid, Indeed, of /tiiot/f'/f^tfng. 



LETTER VU. 



FMQX MBSBRS. L — CS — QT— M AMtl CO. TO 



Pkh Post, Sir, we send your MS.— looked it thro*— 
Very sorry — but cant undertake — "twoulda't do. 
Clever work, Sir! — ^ would ^t up prodlgiotialy 

well — 
Its only defect is — it never would sell. 
And though Siatettnen may glory in being im> 

In an Author 'tis not so desirable though L 

Hard times, Sir, — most books are loo dear to 

be read — 
Though the g/Jd of Good-sense and Wit's tmaii- 

change are fled, 
Yet the paper we Publishers pass, in their stead. 
Rises higher each day, and ('tis frightful to think 

it) 
Not even such names as F — tig — •r — d's can sink 

it! 

However, Sir — if you're for trying again. 
And at somewhat that's vendible ^ — we arc your 
men. 

Since the Chevalier C^ — rr- took to marrjing 

lately, 
The Trade is in want of a TravelUr greatly — 
No job, Sir, more easy — your Countfy onct 

planned, 
A month aboard ship and a fortnight on lurid 
Puts your Quarto of TravL48, Sir, clcsii out of hand. 

An Enst'India pomphlet^s a tbing tbut would 

tell — 
And a lick at tbe PaplstB ii sure to tell welh 
Or — supposing youVe nothing original in you — 
Write Parodies, Sir, and such fame it will win yon^ 
You'll get to the Blue-stocking Routs of AlbiniaM 
(Mind — not to her dinnerit — a at^tsnd-hand Muse 
Must^nt think of aspiring to meim with tbe Htues.) 
Or — in case nothing else in this world you can 

do — 
The deuce is In't, Sir, if you cannot review/ 



T ■iipprest the nuroe ot the Author, who^e Hf«t*^ miaiiu. 
•cript W.U inchii-ed In Ihli Jptler, — Hee thf A|ii]p»rndl]c. 

3 Sir John Carr, the author of " Tuurt liii Irelanit^ Uolluid^ 
Swpdeu," Ac. Sec, 

* Thti sltudet, I bellefe, to « cufloiji eorrvtixmdenrp, 
Hfhlch 1i eald lo bvm p««»cd liteljr brtwpen Alh_n k, 
Cnuiuea* of D— ck— gh— nii--«, *nrd a ctTiatn Ing^nlout 
Furodbt. 





1 




lo6 MOORE^S WORKS. 




Should yow feel any touch of pt/etieul glow, 


Though mare we love thy roseate dayg, 


WeVt? a Scheme to suggest — Mr. Sc — tt^ you must 


When the rich rouge-pot pours its blaze 




know, 


Full o*er thy face, and, amply spread, 




(VVlio, weVe sorry to say it, now works for tlte 


Tips e\'en thy whisker-tops with red^ 




Now \) 


Like the last tints of dying Day 




Having quitted the Borders, to seek new renowDf 


That o'er some darkling grove delay. 




Is coming, by long Quarto singes, to Town ; 






And bfpinning with Rokeby (ihe joVs sure to poy) 


Bring thy beat lace, tbou gay Philander, 




Means to di* all thu Gentletiien*if Seats on the way. 


(That lace, like H— rry Al— x— nd— r. 




Now, the Scheme is (though none of our hackneys 


Too preciouji to be wash'd,) — thy rings. 




can beat him) 


Thy »eala — in short, thy prettiest things 1 




To start a freah Poet through High gate to mei'i 


Put all thy wardrobe^ glories on, 




him; 


And yield id frogs and fringe, to none 




Who, by menns of quick prooft — no revisea^ 


But the great R^g^t'a self alooe; 




king coaches — 


W^ho^ — by particular desire — 




May do a few Villan, before Sc — tt nppronehcs. 


For thfit night vnhf^ means fo hire 




Indeed, if our Pcf^osiifi he not corst Rhabb)', 


A dress from Romeo C — tes, F^s<|uire.' 




!k''ll rt'acli, wiihout foand'ring, at least Wobum- 


Hail, fim of Actors ! ^ l>eKt of It— g— t'sl 




Abbey, 


Horn f«r each other's fond allegiance ! 




Such, Sir, is our plan — if yon'rc up to the freak» 


Bitth gay Lotharios — l)oth good dressers—* 




'Tis a match! and we'll put you rn training next 


Of serious Farce both learned Professors — ► 




week* 


Both circled round, for use or show. 




At pre«ent^ no more — in reply fo ihia Letter, a 


With cock*s combs, wherefioe'cr they go ! * 




Liue will oblige vtry much 






Yours, et cetera. 


Thou know**t the lime, thon man of lore! 




Trmftk ^tke Mtues. 


It takes to chalk a bjill-room floor^ — 
Thou know'st the time, too, well-a-day! 
It takes to dance that chalk awaj .<5 
The Ball-room opens — ^far and nigh 








Comets and suns beneath us lie; 




LETTER vrn. 


O er snow-white moons and stars we walk, 
And the tloor seems one sky of chalk ! 




flltfl^ Ctit (T'Tf Til Tf fl TO 


But soon shall fade that bright deceit. 




8K — FF — NOT— N, JuSq. 


When many a maid^ with busy feet 
That sparkle in the lustre's ray. 




Cons to our F^te", and bring with thee 


O'er the white path shall bound and play 




Thy newest^ best embroidery. 


Like Kymph* along the Milky Way: — 




Come to oxir F<^te, and show again 


With every step a star hiilh flid. 




That i>ea-greea coat^ thou pink of men, 


And suns prow dim beneath their tread ! 




Which chann'd all eyes, that la«t survey 'd it; 


So passeth life— (thus Sc — tt would write, 




When Br — mm— I's self inquired " who mode it?'*^- 


And spinsters read him with delight,) — 




Whcu Cit« came wond'ring, from the East, 


Hours are not feet» yet hours trip on. 




And thought thee Poet Pyc at len^tf 


Time i« not chalk, yet time'* soon gone \ i 




Oh! come, (if haply 'lis thy week 


But, hang this long dtgressive flight ! — 




For looking pale,) with paly check; 


I meant to say. ihoult »ee, that night. 




* Patvmotter Row, 


frdlttn hrr« allud<i^ to, wmm a eock t And ino»t profu*elf ««r* 




• Thii Letter MicloMd ■ Card tor the GraiHl Ftte on the 


hti llrcrtei, liamesi^ Ac. covered with tbli ornament. 




flth of FebriMrjr, 


• To tho***. who neither go lo bAll« nor read tlia Momlnf 






Poflt, It may be necetury to irarntlon, that tlic Aoort of BaJl- 






roomi, In ^nenil. arc ch«1krd, Tor ufeijr aad fM oraameiit. 




K**c«otem pteciA> JkimAtft tidcrli. tic. (IohaTh 


with vartriu* fandrul dPttcM, 




TH« Miin, U|)Ofi whom thou hjut dflgn'd to l4jN>k funiif, 


t HfKtU are mit 0knt, jet Jlinti are rent. 




Oh Trig«4ly*t Mute r at the hour nf hl» birth — 


Hurt! at* not Heel, jet »t««l l» bent- 




L«t |h«m Mj wh«t tt]«7 wtU, thAt't the Mad for my monrjr. 


Aft«r all. howe*i"f, Mr. Sc— tt maj w«U »aj to the Colonel, 




OtVA otiwra tbjr twrt, but let im 1i«»« ttoj mirth ! 


(Kcitt, Itidred. to much Iwtter waft than Ilia C^looal,) ^ 










I - 


1 


1 



INTERCEPTED LETTERS. 



157 



Wbat €dsehood nnklei in thnr hcarti, 
, Wk> aj the Pr— « neg^ccti the mrtt — 
Seglecti the arts? — no^ Str— hl-^ i, no; 
Tly Cupids answer "* *tb not so;** 
Asd erery floor, that night, ihsll tell 
Earn quick thoa danbat, and how welL 
Sime as thoa may'st in French Termilion, 
Tkw*rt baif beneath a French cotillioD; 
Afid ftill coiii*st fjtt, irhate*er thy fiuilti, 
WtOifyimg eciomn in a Waltz. 
Xor need'st thoa moorn the tranaicnt dUe 
To th J best wovhs aaiign*d by ftte. 
While JosK ehef-d^crarra lire to weary one, 
Jlume boast a short life and a merry one; 
Tkeir boor of glory past and gone 
With *^ Molly pat the kettle on !**< 

Bat, bless my tool! Fve scarce a leaf 
or paper left — so, must be brief! 

This fesdre Fete, in Uet, will be 
The former Fete'^fac-nmUe ;^ 
Tbe same long Masquerade of Rooms, 
All trick'd ap in sack odd costmnes, 
(These, P — rt — t\ are thy glorious works!) 
Toa*d swear Egyptians, Moors, and Turks, 
Bearing Good-Taste some deadly malice. 
Had dabVd to raise a Pic-Nic Palace ; 
And each to make tke olio pleasant 

'■ Bad sent a State-Room as a present. 
Tbe itane fauteulU and girondoles — 
The same gold Asses*, pretty souls ! 

! That, in this rich and classic dome, 

' Appear so perfectly at home. 

■ The same bright river 'mong the dishes, 

I Bat not — ah ! not the same dear fishes — 
Late hoars and claret kiird the old one's — 

. So 'stead of silver and of gold ones, 

i (It being rather hard to raise 
Fish of that gpecie now-a-days) 

', Some sprats have been by Y — rm — th's wish. 
Promoted into SUctr Fish, 

, And Gudgeons (so V — ^ns— tt— t told 
Tbe R — g — t) are as good as Gold I 

' So, prithee, come — our Fete will be 
I But half a Fete if wanting thee. 



1 A foreign trtist much patronised by the Prince Regent. 

* The name of a popular country -dance. 

» - C— rit— n H e will exhibit a coraplete/<Kr-*«i»^^. 

In respect to Interior ornament, to what it did at the last F(tc. 
The nroe splendid draperlef," ftc. &c. — Morning Pott. 

* Mr. Walth Porter, to whoM taste was left the furnishing 
oTOm roont of Carlton House. 



APPENDIX. 



L, 



LETTER IV. PACE 152. 

Among the papers, enclosed in Dr. D — g — n — n*s 
Letter, was found an Heroic Epistle in Latin verse, 
from Pope Joan to her Lover, of which, as it is 
rather a curious document, I shall venture to give 
some account. This female Pontiff was a native 
of England, (or, according to others, of Germany,) 
who, at an early age, disguised herself in male at- 
tire, and followed her lover, a young ecclesiastic, 
to Athens, where she studied with such effect, that 
upon her arrival at Rome, she was thought worthy 
of being raised to the Pontificate. This Epistle is 
addressed to her Lover (whom she had elevated 
to the dignity of Cardinal), soon after the fatal 
accouchement, by which her Fallibility was betrayed. 
She begins by reminding him tenderly of the 
time, when they were together at Athens — when, 
as she says, 

" by Ilissus* stream 

** We whispering walk*d along, and leam*d to speak 
** The tenderest feelings in the purest Greek ; — 
** Ah, then how little did we think or hope, 
" Dearest of men, that I should e'er be Pope!* 
** That I, the humble Joan, whose house-wife art 
** Seem*d just enough to keep thy house and heart, 
" (.And those, alas, at sixes and at sevens,) 
** Should soon keep all the keys of all the heavens !" 

Still less (she continues to say) could they have 
foreseen, that such a catastrophe as had happened 
in Council would befall them — that she 

" Should thus surprise the Conclave's grave de- 
corum, 
" And let a litde Pope pop out before 'em — 
** Pope Innocent I alas, the only one 
" That name could e'er be justly fix'd upon." 

She then very pathetically Uunents the downfall of 
her greatness, and enumerates the various treasures 
to which she is doomed to bid farewell for ever : — 



* The salt-cellars on the Pr e 's oten table were in the 
form of an Ass with panniers. 

• Spanheim attributes the unanlraltj, with which Joan was 
elected, to that innate and irresistibli> charm, by which her sex, 
though latent, operated upon the instinct of the Cardinals — 
'* Non tI aliquA, sed concorditer, omnium in se ronverso desU 
derio, que sunt blandicntis sexus artes, lalentet in hie quao. 
quaml** 



158 



MOOEE'S WOEKS. 



" But oh, mom dear, more precious ten timea 

over— 
" Fare well roy Lord, my Cardinal, my I^ovcr! 
** I made thee Canllnal — thou mad'ist rue— olil 
•* Thou mad'tt the Papa of the world Mumma I ** 

I have not time at present to truuslate any more 
of this Epistle ; htit I presume the argtimeut which 
the Eight Hon. Doctor and his friends mean to 
deduce from tt, is (id their usual convincing gtrain) 
that Romaniiits must be unworthy of Emancipation 
nam, btfcaose tliey had a Petticoat Pope in tbe 
Ninth Century* Nothing can be more logically 
clear* and I find that Horace had exacily the Bamc 
▼iews upon the subject* 

Bom^amuM (cheu poiteti negftbltti t) 

Kmanctpasmt F«MUiJi 
Fcrt Tolluni i 



LETTER VIL pacjk 155. 

The Manuscript, found enclosed in the Book- 
seller's Letter, ttima out to be a Mclo-Drama, in 
two Acts, entitksl '^ The Book»,"of whit'h the 
ThMtrcs, of course, had had the refusal, before it 
was presented to Messrs. L — ck— ngt — n and Co. 
This rejected Drama, however, possesses con- 
siderable mertt^ and I shall take the liberty of hiying 
a sketch of it before my Readers. 

The first Act opens in a very awful manner — 
7Vi«f, three o'clock in the morning — Scene., tlie 
Bourhon Chamber* in C- rlt—n House — Enter 

Ihe P e R-^g— t solus — After a few broken 

seuteuiN s, he shus exclaims : — 

A way — A way — 
Thoa hannt'st my fancy so, ihou devilish Book, 
I meet thee — trace thee, wlieresoeVr 1 look. 
I see ihy damned ink in Eld — n's brows — 
I see ihy fooljieap on my H — rtf — d"s Spouse — 
V — ns — tt^ — t*s head recalls thy Imthern case. 
And alt thy black-leaves stare from, R— d — r's 
face! 

* Tlsert wai. In like manner, a mfftprlotJi TLfuA, In ilir 
l(kh Gcfiturj, which i;mpl,)T«d all ihp nniLloni curlofitj#rthe< 
ljmm»A at that lime. Ev^ry one »pokc of It; numy trrot* 
■gainst It ; thuuith It (loot not appeiir thnu any hudf twd ■▼er 
St«ll It \ and Giutiut 1* of o]>inl»n tb4t no luch Book etrar 
tsltMMl. It WM vDtklpd *' Lfber de tribu* ImpotUirlhiui/' 
iSmm Mother. Cap. do f.lbrif dwoiEMtii.)— Our more nHHU^m 
nfilfTf of '* the Book " rrtcimbles 111 It Id many partlruUn ; 
«n4, H Um miHilwr nf Lmwjert mo$tioytA In drawhig ll up bo 
«Lal«dl corrcdlf , a tUght altcrjuion of thv lUlc Into *' d tr^Uoi 



While turning here ilo^ntf his hand tm his heari)^ 

I find, ah wretched elf, 
Thy List of dire Errata in myself, 

( Waiks (/if fittige in con»itkrabie atfitation.) 
Oh Roman Punch I oh potent Cunt^oa I 
Oh Mareschino! Maresehiiio oh I 
Deliciona drama I why have yon not the art 
To kill this gnawing Book* worm in my heart ? 

He ii here interrupted in his Soliloquy by perceiT- 
ing on the ground some scribbled fragmtuts of 
paper, which he instantly collects, and ** by the 
light of two maji^ifieeot candi^labras ** discovers ik& 
following unconnected words, " HV/c neyUcUd'* — 
'♦ the Book " — " Wrofiy MetiAuns "^^'^dit Queen ^' 
— " Mr. Lambert ''—*Uhc R-g^C 



Hal 



my home ! -~ Curst words, iliat 



treason in 
wither 
My princely soul, {xhakinff tlte papers moUnd^} 

what Demon brought you hither? 
•* My Wife I " — '*tbe Botik" loo [-^ stay-* a nearer 
look — 
{hfJdintf t/it /mffmentji vloser to fAe Oindehibnu) 
Alas ! too plain« B, double t.>, K, Book — 
Death and destruction I 

He here rings all tbe hells, and a whole legion of 
valets enier. A scene of cursing aud swearing 
(very mcicb in the German style ) ensues, in liie 
conrse of which messengers are dispatched in dif- 
ferent directions, for the I* — rd Ch — nc— 11 — r^ 
the D— e of C— b— 1— d, &e* &e. The inter- 
mediate time is filled up by another S<jlilo<|uy, at 
the conclusion of which tbe aforesaid Penonagei 
rush on atarme<l ; the D— ke with bis staya only 
haJf-laced, and the Ch — nc— 11 — r with bis wig 
thrown hastily over an old red night-cap, "to 
maintain the becoming splendour of his office/'* 
The R— g — t produces tbe nppalUng fragmentsi. 
upon which the Ch^ — ^nc— ll — r breaks out into 
exclamations of loyalty and tenderness, and relate* 
the following portentous dream : 

*Tis scarcely two hours since 
I had a fearful dream of thee, my P— =^ — e ! — 
Methonght I lieard thee, midst a courtly crowds 
Say from thy throne of gold, in mandate loud, 

ImpoftoHtMu*' would produces cotncfdrnee ■Uofclhcr very 
rcitiarkaUle. 

» Tbe Mtfie ClmiDb»r, doubitoM. that «m prtfuuml for tli«t 
reeepcloa ot tb« Bmirbooa at Ihn irit Graad F*i^, and mh\c% 
wsi drnaaietitM (sit ** for the DallTeraoce oT Europv ") with 
fieuti-d^-l^t. 

^ " Tu f ruihlf Ihp iiuliviJuaf » who hotdt the offllee of Dwb- 
eollor. to maifltalD it 4o twcoming ■plt'iidour/* ( Jl html ttmgk ) 
.Lord CArrLEHSaoM't SpcteA aygoMlte fjee-CkamrfU^r't iUti 



INTERCEPTED LETTERS, 



159 



i» 



" Worship my whUkers! '* — (tctepit) not a knee 

WHS there 
Bat bt?ot lind worahipp'tl th<* Illiiitriims Pdr* 
Which currd in cotiscinuB niojeAty ! (pulix out hi* 

hamlkerch irf) — ^ w h i le v ries 
Of ** WhiskerK, whiskers ! ** shook the echoing 

ftkietu — 
Just in that glortotis hoor* methought^ there camCf 
Wttb looks of injur d pride, a Princely Dunet 
And a joung maiden, clinging by her side, 
Aa if ihe fear*d some t)T^nt would divide 
Two bearta thai nature and affect ion tied I 
The ^fatron came— wUhin her ri^ht hand glow'd 
A radiant torch ; while from her iffi a load 
Of Papers huag — (wipes hit cyet) collected in 

her veil — 
The venal evidence, the slanderous tale« 
The wounding hint, the cnrrent lies that pass 
From PmI to Courier^ form'd the moUey mass ; 
Which, with disdain, before the Throne she throws, 
And lights the Pile beneath thy princely nose. 

Bear^os, how it btas*d! — Yd ask no livelier fire 
( With animation) To roast a Papist by, my gra- 
cious Sire ! — 
Bol, ah I the Evidence -^(irffTw again) I mourii'd 

to sec — 
Cast, as it bum'd, a deadly light on thee : 
And Tales and Hints their raodciin sparkle flung, 
And hissed and crackled^ like an old maidV 

tongue; 
While Ihtt and Courier^ (aithfhl to their fame. 
Made dp in stink for what they lack*d hi flame. 
Wheiit to, ye Gods! the fire ascending brisker, 
JVow singes nne^ now lightA the other whisker. 
Ah ! where was thcu the Sylph id, that mtftirls 
Her fairy standard in defence of curls? 
Throne, Whiskers. Wig, soon vanished into smoke. 
The watchman cried •* Past One/ and — I awoke. 

Here his f^rdship weeps more profbftely than 
ever, and the R — g— t (who has been very much 
agitated during the recital of the Dream) by a 
■Kyvement as chnracteristic as that of Charles XIL 
when he was shot, claps his hands to his whiskers 
to frel if all be really safe. A Privy Council is 
Md^ all the 8ervfint5, ke. are examined, and it 
•pfwars that a Tailor, who had come to men«iire 
|}ie R— g<— t for a Dreas (which takes three whole 
p^gef of the best superfine ctrntjuant in describing) 
was the only person who had been*m the Bourboo 
Chamber during the day. It is, accordingly , 
dftermined to setae the Tailor^ and the Council 
btreaks np with a nnaiiiinoua resolution to be 
vigorous. 

The commtncemeiit of the Secotid Aet turns 



chiefly upon the Trial and Imprisonment of two 
Brothers'^* but as this forms the undo- plot of 
the Drama, I shall CNtmteot myself with extracting 
fmm it the following speech, which is addressed 
the two Brothers, as they ** eaeunt severally " to 
Prison : — 

Go to your priaona — though the air of Spnog 

No mountaio coolness to your cheeks shall bring; 

Though Summer flowers shall pass nnseeu away. 

And all your portion of the glorious day 

3lay lie some solitary beam that falls. 

At mom or eve, upon your dreary walls — 

Some beam that enters, trembling as if aw'd. 

To tell how gay the young world luughs abroad! 

Yet go — for thought* as blessed as the air 

CW Spring or Summer flowers await you there ; 

Thoughts, sneh as He, who fea^s his courtly crew 

In rich conBcm'atories, never knew ; 

Pure self-esteem — the smiles that light within — 

The Zeal, whose circling charities begin 

With the few lov'd ones Heaven has placed it near. 

And spread, till all Mankind are in its sphere ; 

The Pride, that suffers without vaunt or plea. 

And (he fresh Spirit, thai can warble free. 

Through prisoa-barSt its hymn to Liberty 1 

The Scene next changes to a Tailor's Work-shop, 
and a fancifully -arranged group of these Artists is 
diaeovcred upon the Shop-ljoarrl — Their task evi- 
dently of a ro^I nature, from ilie profusion of 
gold-lace, frogs, &c. tliat lie al^out — They all rise 
and come forward, while one of them siogs the 
following Stanzas to the luoe of ** Derry Down," 

My brave brother Tailors, come, straighten your 

knees, 
For a moment, like gentlemen, stand up at eaae. 
While I sing of our P e (and a fig for his 

railers) 
The Shop -board's delight! the MsBeenatof Tailoral 
Derry down, down, dowti deny dtmn. 

Some monarchs take roundaboat ways into Do4e, 
While His short cut to fume is — the cut of hie 

coat; 
Philip's Son thought the World was too smaU ibr 

bis Soul, 
Bat our R — g — t's finds room in a hic'd button-hole. 
Derry down, &c* 

Look through all Europe's Kings — those, ai lesst, 

who go loose — 
Not a King of them all's sneh a friend to the Goose, 

* Mr. LHfli Hunt snd hi* htotiwt. 





MOORE'S WORKS, 



Sot God keep him increasing in Kiae and renOTro, 

StUl tlie Ibtteflt And be^t fitted P q about town! 

Deny down, &c. 

Derry down ** of this last verse, a 

TO the S— c— t— y of S e'a Office 

Tttshcs on, and tbe smgcr (who^ luckily for llie 
effect of the scene, is the very Tailor suspected of 
the mysterious f ragmen te) is int4?rrupted in the 
midst of his laudatory exertions, and hurried away^ 
to the DO small surprise and constematioa of his 
comrades. The Plot now hastens rapidly in lu 
developement*— the manugi^niifQt of the Tailor's 
examination is highly skilful, and the alaru}, which 
be is made to betmy, is Qatuml withuut iR'ing 
ludicrous. The explanation, too, which he fiually 
gives u> not more simple than satisfactory. It 
appears that the said fragments formed part of a 
•elf-cxeulpatnry note, which he had intended to 
send to Colonel M*M — o upon suhjects pm-ely 
profe^iooal, and I lie corresponding bits (which 



still lie luckily in his pocket) being produced, and 
skilfully laid beside the otht-rt), the following 
bitlet^^doux is the eatisfactory result of their Jiuta- 
pofiitioo. 

Honoured Colonel — my Wife, who*8 the Queen of 

all slatternSj 
Neglected to put up the Book of new Patterns. 
She sent the wrong Measures too — shamefully 

wrong — 
They're the siune us'd for ptjor Mr, Lambert, when 

young ; 
Btit, bless you 1 they woutdn*t go half round the 

R-g— t — 
So, hope you'll excuse yours till death, most 

obedient. 

This fully explains the whole mystery — the 
R — g — t resumes his wonted smiles^ and the Drama 
terminates as usual^ to the satisfaction of all par- 
tics. 



SATIRICAL AND nUMOROUS POEMS. 



2XOAAZONT02 AIXOAIA. 



THE INSURRECTION OF TOE PAPERS. 



** U woultl be {mpoMlbto for )iU HojfJil K%hne*i to d\um- 
fofe 111* p«r«on frani. th« c^cuffiulaUng pile of papcn that 
ooeoRipStted it."— Lord Caktlbi tAGH'i Spcrck upon CotoHef 
itMrnkm's Afipoimtrft^mt, Aprii 14. L4I2. 

Laht night I toss'd aod turn'd in bed, 
But could not sleep — at length I said, 
" ril think of Viscount C — stl — r— gh, 
" And of his speeches — that's the way." 
And »o it was, for instantly 
I slept as Kound as souuil could be. 
And then I dreamt — so dread a dream 1 
Fuseli liJis no such tlicme ; 
I^wis never wrote or lH»rrow*d 
Adj horror, half so horrid I 

Methottght the Pr c , in whisker'd state. 
Before m^ at his breakfiist sate ; 



On one side lay unread Petitions, 
On t'other. Mints from 6ve Physicians ; 
Htre tradesmen's hills,*- oOieial paix^rs. 
Notes from my LaiJy, drams for vapours — 
7%ertr plans of saddles, tea and toast, 
Death-warrants and the Morning Post 

\^nien lo I the Papers, one and all, 
As if at some magieian's coll. 
Began to flutter of themselves 
From desk and table, floor and shelvei, 
And, cutting each some different capers, 
Advanced, oh Jacobinic paperbl 
As though they said, ** Our sole design is 
^' To sulfiH'ftte his Royal Highness I ** 
The Leader of this vile sedition 
Was a huge Cijttholie Petition, 
With grievances so full aud heavy, 
It thneafeo'd worst of all the bevy. 
Then Commou-Ifull Addresses came 
In swaggering sheets, and took their mm 



8ATIBICAL AND HUMOROUS POEMS. 



161 



Ai if dbCcmnW to be XMd. 

Bat TradMBMB'i BiDi began to fly, 

Jkmd TrediMHieii'i BQln^ we know, mount bi^ ; 

Kaj, cVn Deeth-warruite tbooght tbey'd beet 

Be Uvdj too^ end J(»n the reet 



Baft, oh tibe beeeet of defectioae 1 
Hie letter about «« prediketkme "— 
Hie own dear Letter, Toid d graee, 
How flew np in in peientli.flwe t 
flhoek'd with hie breaeh of filial duty. 
He Joit could mumrar "ce Tn Aicfe y " 
Theo eonk, enbdoed npcm the floor 
▲t FoK'e boat, to riae no more I 

I wnk'd — end praj'd, with lifted band, 
** Ohl never may this Dream pnnre tme ; 

** Tlioagli paper o?erwhelma the land, 
** Let it not cmah the Sorereign too 1 " 



PARODY 



OV ▲ CnUBBBATKD LBTTEB.1 

At length, deanet Freddy, the moment ia nigh. 
When, with P— ro— y— !*• leave, I may throw my 

ehainaby; 
And, aa time now ia preciooa, the first thing I do, 
la to ait down and write a wise letter to you. 



I meant befiire now to have sent you this Letter, 
Bat T — ^rm— th and I thought perhaps 'twould be 

better 
To wait till the Irish a&irs were decided— 
(That is, till both Houses had prosed and divided, 
With all dne appearance of thoaght and digestion) — 
For, though H~rtf~rd House had long settled 

theqoestion, 
I tbooght it bat decent, between me and you. 
That the two other Houses should settle it too. 

I Letter from bis Rojral HlghneM the Prince Regent to the 
Dak«or York. Feb. 18. 1812. 

* ** I think it hardly neeeteary to call your recollection to 
dM reetot dreimntaDeee under which I auuned tlie authority 
deieteted to me by Parliament.*' ~ Primce*a Letter, 

> *« My ienie of duty to our Royal (kther lolely decided 
CbatdMioe.**— /Ml 



I need not remind yoa how cursedly bad 
Oar affairs were all looking, when Father went 

mad;< 
A straight waistcoat on him and restrictions <m me, 
A more UmuUd Monarchy could not well be. 
I was call*d npcm then, in that moment of puzale. 
To choose my own liinister — just aa they muzsle 
A playftil young bear, and then mock his disaster. 
By bidding him choose out his own dancing- 
master. 

I thought the best way, as a dutifbl son. 
Was to do aa Old Royalty's self would have done.9 
So I sent word to say, I would keep the whole 

batch in. 
The same chest of tools, without cleansing or 

patching; 
For tools of this kind, like Martinus*s sconce ; ^ 
Would lose all their beauty, if purified once ; 
And think — only think — if our Father should 

find. 
Upon graciously coming again to his mind, ^ 
That improvement had spoiled any fkvourite ad- 
viser — 
That R~ se was grown honest, or W — stm — rel — nd 



That R— d — ^r was, ev'n by one twinkle, the 
brighter— 

Or L — V — rp — I's speeches but half a pound light- 
er — 

What a shock to his old royal heart it would be ! 

No ! — fiur were such dreams of improvement from 
me: 

And it pleas'd me to find, at the House, where, you 
know,* 

There's such good mutton cutlets, and strong 
cura^oa?. 

That the Marchioness call'd me a duteous old boy, 

And my Y — rm — ^th*s red whiskers grew redder 
for joy. 

You know, my dear Freddy, how oft, if I wouldj 
By the law of last Sessions I might have done good. 
I might have withheld these political noodles 
From knocking their heads against hot Yankee 

Doodles ; 
I might have told Ireland I pitied her lot. 
Might have sooth'd her with hope — but yoa know 

I did not 

* The antique shield of Martinui Scriblerui, which, upon 
icouring, turned out to be only an old iconce. 

» *' I waved any personal gratiflcatlon, in order that his 
Maiesty might resume, on his restoration to health, every 
power and prerogative,** Ac — Frime**i Letter, 

* '* And I hare the satis&ction of knowing that sodi was 
the opinion of persons for whose Judgment,** he. ttc — AM. 

7 The leCt«r-wrlter*i flsTonrito hmefaeon. 



162 



MOORE'S WORKS. 



And my vhh is, in tmtK that ihe best of old 

fellows 
Bhonld DfiL, QQ recovcriag, havtf cauae to be jeilotiA, 
But Und that, irhile lie has been laid on the sbelf) 
We've bcea nil of ob nearly ns mad as himielf. 
Yon smile at my hopes ^ — ^bnt the Doctors and I, 
Are the last that can thmk the K — ng ct>«r will die ■ 

A new era's arrived ''^ — thoagh you'd liardly 
believe it — 
And all things, of course, must be new to receive it 
New yiiias, new futes (which ev'n AVaithman at- 
tends) — 
New Middlea, new heltnets, and — why not new 
JHtmUf 



I repeat it, " New Friends ** — for I cannot describe 
The delight I am in with this P — re— v— I tribe. 
Such capering! — Such vapouring t — Such rigour! 

— Such vijBfour 1 
North, South, Eaat, and West, Ihey hare cot such 

a figttre, 
That soou they will bring the whole world romnd 

our ears. 
And leave us no fViendg— but Old Nick and Algiers* 

W^en I think of the glory they've beam'd on 
my chains, 
'Tig enough quite lo tum my illustrtoua brains. 
It is irue we are bankropts in commerce luirl richei, 
But tliink how we fiud our Allies io ot-w breeches! 
We've lost the warm hearts of the Irish, 'tis granted, 
But then we^ve got Java, on island miicU wanted, 
To put the laiit lingering few who remain, 
Of the Walcheren warriors, out of their pciio. 
Then how Wellington fiigbts ! and how squabbles 

his brother E 
F^ Papists the one, and with Papists the other; 
Om crushing Napoleon by taking a City, 
While t'otlier hiys vraste a whole Cath'lic Com- 
mittee. 
Oh deedH of rtMiown ! — shall 1 boggle or flinch, 
WUh such prospects before me? by Jove, not an 

Inoh. 
flo^Ut JSuj/Awwf* affain go to rack, if they will, 
Wi»'H lonk tktu*t i\i affain of the Cmtinent still j 
Ami, with mtlhing at home but starvation and riot, 
|<M i»\%\um Ui liri'iul, and keep Sicily quiet 



' I ftMiAlulf MM tlii iMl ii«r»on In lht> klnidom to whom 

.*« •Miv»il, MMk t «;«iinoi liul t»fl«ct m\lh 
(hut 
nUUUm* U* ItMliilgVf ail r«i«1»lin«ila to 



I am proud to declare I have no predilecticms, ' 
My heart is a sieve, where some ineatler'd offeotioiu 
Are just danc'd about for a moment or two. 
And the Jimr they are, the more sure to nm 

thrtvugh : 
Neither feci I reaentments, nor wish there should 

couie ill 
To mortal ^cjiccpt (now I think on't) Beau 

Br — mm — 1 
Who threatened last year, in a Kiiperfine passion. 
To cut Mf, and bring the old K — ng into fashion. 
This is all I can lay to my conscience at present; 
When such is my temper, so neutral, bo pleasant, 
So royally free from all troublesonie feelings, 
So little encumber'd by fuith in my dealings 
(And that Fm consistent the world will allow, 
What I was at Newmarket the same I am now). 
UMien such are my merits (you know I hate crack- 
ing), 
I hope, like the Vender of Best Patent Blacking, 
'*To meet with the generous and kind apprcbation 
" Of a candid, enlightened, and liberal nation." 

By the bye, ere I close this magnificent Letter, 
(No man, except Pole, could have writ you a 

better,) 
Twould please me if those, whom I've humbug'd 

so long * 
With the notion (good men 1) that I knew right 

from wrong. 
Would ii few of them join me — -mind, only a few^ 
To kt ffio much light in on me never would do; 
But even Grey's brightness shan't make me afraid. 
While I've C^md— n and Eld— n to fl.y to for 

shade; 
Nor wvW Holland's clear intellect do us much harm. 
While there's W — stm — rel— nd near him to 

weaken the charm* 
As for Moira's high spirit if aught can subdue it. 
Sure joining with H — rtf— rd and Y— rm— tb will 

do it! 
Between R — d— r and VTh — rt — n let Sheridan sit, 
And the fogs will soon quench even Sheridan's wil: 
And against all the pure public feeling that glows 
Ev*n in Whiibread himself we*ve a Host in (J— rge 

K— •el 
So, in short, if they wish to have Placet, they 

may, 
And rU thank you to tell all these matters to Grey ^ 



* " 1 nmnot concltMie wltlioat cipT*?Mlng thr frttUAcAtloo 
I thmild feel If tone ol tboM pcrkoot wuh whom \\w e>«r1r 
hsbtt* of my public tifo wer« fbrmfid wouM atrtmfthen nf 
ha«d«, and cooitltute a part of my fovcrnmfnt/* ^ Iht4, 

^ *' You are authorised to communicate thp'«^ wutlmmti (o 
t#ord Gnr/, who, 1 have do doubt, will make them known to 
Lord Or«iTin«," — Ibid. 




SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS POEMS. 163 


Who» I dflvkt Ml, vffl vrile (as tlMfe*t ao tiM to 


Books, that, hr tram erery eye. 


Umi) 




Bj' l^t imvytBUj port to teQ GmTilk the nevi; 


Slick them in between the two. 


Aad nov, devMt Fred (tlioagh Fve do predOee- 


Prood Pea-hen and old Cuckoo. 


tk-X 


Now yoa hare the triple feather. 








With a silken tie, whose hue 




Once was brilliaat Buff and Blue; 




Sallied now—alas, how much ! 


crowingl 


Only fit for Y— rm~th*s touch. 




There— enough— thy task is done ; 
Present, worthy G ge's Son; 




ANACREONTIC 


Now, beneath, in letters neat. 
Write •* I auTB,** and aU's complete. 


TO ▲ PUTMAeOEm. 




Fnn and feothery artiieii. 






Beat of Phimista 0^ joa ean 




'With TOOT art so &r prefome) 




Make for am a Pr— ee*s Plume— 
Feathen eoft and ftathen rare. 


EXTRACTS 


Soeh ae ioila a Pr— ee to wear. 


FBOM THE DIABT OF A POLITICLUr. 


Firrt, thoa downieit of men. 


n'edme»im9. 


Seek AM oat a fine Pea-hen; 




Such a Hen, so tall and grand. 


just now — 


As by Jono's tide might stand. 


Met the oidydlow ehariot^, and made a low bow. 


If tiiere were no cocks at hand. 


This I did, of course, thinking twas loyal and ciril. 


Seek her iieathers, soft as down. 


But got such a look— oh 'twas black as the deril! 


Kt to shine on Pr — ce's crown; 


How unlucky t — incog, he was travlling about. 


If thoa canst not find them, stupid ! 


And I, like a noodle, must go find him out. 


Ask the way of Prior's Cupid.« 






Memi, — when next by the old yellow chariot I ride. 


Ranging these in order doe. 


To remember there if nothing princely inside. 


Ploek me next an old Cuckoo; 




EmUem of the happy fiites 


Tkursdag. 


Of easy, kind, comoted mates. 


At Leree to-day made another sad blunder — 


Flock him well — be sure you do — 


What can be come oyer me lately, I wonder ? 


Who wouldn't be an old Cuckoo, 


The Pr— ce was as cheerful, as if; all his life. 


Thus to hare his plumage blest, 


He had neyer been troubled with Friends or a 


Beaming on a R — ^y — 1 crest ? 


Wife— 




" Fme weather,** says he— to which I, who muMi 


Braro, Plumist! — now what bird 


prate. 


Shan we find for Plume the third? 


Answered, ** Tes, Sir, but changeable rather, of late." 


Tou must get a learned Owl, 


He took it, I fear, for he looked somewhat gruff. 


' Bleakest of blark-letter fowl, - 


And handled his new pair of whiskers so rough. 


Bigot bird, that hates the light, s 


That before all the courtiers I fear*d they'd come 


Foe to aU that's &ir and bright 


off; 


Seize his quills, (so form'd to pen 


And then. Lord, how Geramb^ would triumph- 


Books S that shun the search of men ; 


antly scoff I 


< ** I ihan MDd a copy of thii letter immedtetoly to Mr. 


4 In allusion to ** the Book" whtcb created toch a mm- 


PtoMTsl.** — Prinee*a Letter. 


atkm aft that period. 


• 8m Prior's poem, entitled ** Tbe Dore." 


ft Tbe imeog. Tehide of tbe Pr-^ce. 


» F— TO-v-L 


• BaroQ Oeraiib, tbe rival of bte R. U. la wUikm. 



164 



MOORE'S WORKS. 



Mem — to bay for son Dicky some onguentor lotion 
To nourish his whiskers — sure road to promotion I > 



Last night a Concert — vastly gay — 
Given by Lady C — stl — r — ^gh. 
My Lord loves music, and, we know. 
Has "two strings always to his bow.**« 
In choosing songs, the R — g — t nam*d 
" Had I a heart for falsehood /ram*d.** 
While gentle H— rtf— d begg'd and pray*d 
For ** Young I am^ and aore afraid,^ 



EPIGRAM. 

What news to-day ? — Oh I worse and worse - 
•• Mac' is the Pr— ce*s Privy Purse I "— 
The Pr— ce's Puree ! no, no, you fool, 
You mean the Pr— ce's Ridicule. 



KING CRACK * AND HIS IDOLa 

WmiTTEN ArrER THE LATB NSOOTIATION FOB 
▲ NEW M— If — fTBT. 

Kmo Crack was the best of all possible Kings, 
(At least, so his Courtiers would swear to you 
ghidly,) 

But Crack now and then would do het'rodox things. 
And, at last, took to worshipping Images sadly. 

Some broken-down Idols, that long had been plac*d 

In his father's old Cabinet, pleas'd him so much. 

That he knelt down and worshipped, though — such 

was his taste! — 

They were monstrous to look at, and rotten to 

touch. 

And these were the beautifbl Gods of King 
Crackl — 
But his People, disdaining to worship such things. 



I BntUnd U not the only countiy where merit ofthU klod 
Is noticed and rewarded. " I renember,** sajt Taremier. ** to 
have leen one of the King of Persia's porters, whose mustaches 
were so long that he could tie them behind his nedi, for which 
reason he had a double pension." 

* A rhetorical figure used by Lord C~s t l r g h. In one 
of his speedies. 

* Colonel M—em-Ji-o. 



Cried aloud, one and all, ** Come, your Godships 
must pack — 
** You'll not do for us, though you may do for 
Kings:* 

Then, trampling these images under their feet. 
They sent Crack a petition, beginning ** Great 
Cssar! 
" We're willing to worship ; but only entreat 
** That you'll find us some decenter Godheads 
than these are." 

*• m try," says King Crack — so they ftimish'd 
him models 
Of better shap'd Gods, but he sent them all 
back; 
Some were chisell'd too fine, some had heads 'stead 
of noddles. 
In short, they were all much too godlike for 
Crack. 

So he took to his darling old Idols again. 

And, just mending their legs and new bronzing 
their faces. 
In open defiance of Gods and of man. 
Set the monsters up grinning once more in their 
places. 



WHAT'S MY THOUGHT LIKE ? 

Quest Wht is a Pump like V— sc— nt C— stl— 
r-gh? 

Anew. Because it is a slender thing of wood. 
That up and down its awkward arm doth sway. 
And coolly spout and spout and spout away. 

In one weak, washy, everlasting flood! 



4 One of those antediluvian Princes, with whom Manetho 
and Whiston seem so intimately acquainted. If we had 
thr Memoirs of Thoth, fhmi which Manetho compiled his 
History, wo should find, I dare say, that Crack was only 
a Regent, and that he, perhaps, succeeded Typhon, who 
(as Whiston says) was the last King of the AntedUuvian 
Dynasty. 



sahsical axd humorocs poems. 



16S 



T 



o — B— If— at 



ID 2Ccd ^ viik thM grim &oe of 



-Wl7i«te. 




5cd» looking fan ia kkpkix. 
B oil eanKUBce. 



WBEATHS FOR THE MINISTERS. 



Or.Crf 
Fraoit 
Where 



Flora, Qnecn of TVamtttl 
thee froM Old Rrompcon's bowers — 
ffwofter that abode) 
be KiBg^s wdl-odoor'd Road, 
each little aaroefy bod 

gailj twine 
Bd flowers of tbine 
Ibr tbooe, who rale ns» 
who rale aad (aooie aj) tool as — 
■are, will lore to pkaie 
fsHoBseboU Deities!* 



5iezt. cmr C--ecl — r~gh «> <f«wB» 
Briag ae froM the CoasiT Uowa. 
Withered ShawrwkJL whach haT« be«n 
Gilded oVr. to hade the grven — 
V^Soeh as H— df— t brvMi^t away 
Fnooi P^-MaU bM Purick s dsj ^>~ 
Stheh the |:arlaBd thivogb And thnMgh 
Wish shabbj thrvads i/mrrjr kwt: — 
Aaiaft. Gtiddew! — ACnr SL^tf — 
Hs k>nish:p Iot«s y^thou^ NMt of aiea) 
A Little ftrtenr, now and then* 
Crimp the leares* thoa first of Syrenew 
Crimp them with tbj earliag-iroQik. 

That's enoogh — awar, away — 
Had 1 leisorv, I eookl my 
How the MJtat nm that glows 
3Iast be plnek'd to deck i)U Rcae— 
How the Doctor'k^ brow shoaM smile 
Crown'd with wreaths of camomilcw 
Bat time presses — to thy taste 
I kare the rest. so. prithee, baste ! 




Fint yoB mnst then, willy-nillT, 
Fetch me maay an orange lily — 
Orange of the darkest dye 
Iriih G — ff— rd ean sopply ; — 
Choow me oot the longest sprig. 
And stick it in old Eld— n*s wig. 

Find me next a Poppy posy. 
Type of his barangnes so dozy, 
Cbrland gnady, dull and cool. 
To crown the bead of L~t — rp — L 
Twill console his brilliant brows 
For that lorn of hmrel boagh^ 
Which they saffer*d (what a pity !) 
On the road to Paris City. 

> Edward Bjrae, the bc«l of tbe Delegmtct of the Irish 



I EPIGRAM. 

I 

' DUOjOGrK BBTWXKX ▲ DOWlQKm ASCD KXB MAID 
I 02V TUB SnCHT OF lX>aD T — ftX — ^TB^S FtTS. 

: ** I WAST the Coort Gnide,'* said my lady, ""to look 
I ** If tbe House, Seymour Place, beat sa or 
I 20."— 

** We Tc lost tbe Comrt GmkU^ Ma'am, bat heie^ 

Where yoall find, I dare ay, Seymour Phn* 

in plenty!" 



> TW sadcoU, in Iflw manner, crowned their Lares, or 
Boosriwid Gods. Sc« Javenal, Sat. 9. It. 138. — Plutarch, 
too, tails OS that HoosdMld Gods were then, as tlMj are now, 
"* wnA given to War and penal Statdtes.*'— i^imi^wr jmu 

s Certain tinsel hnifitioni of the Shamrock which are dis- 
tribaled by tbe SerraaU of C n House every Pa- 
trick's Diy. 



HORACE, ODE XL LIR IL 

FaEELT TRAXaULTBD BT THK PB^CB B^O— T.^ 

• Comb, Y — rm — th, my boy, nerer troaUt ytmr 
brains. 
About what your old crony. 
The Emperor Boney, 
Is doing or brewing on Muscovy's plaint \ 

4 The 9o^rffmft given to Lord Sidmooth. 

• This and the following are extracted tnm a Week, 
which may, some time or other, sMet the ejre of tbe Fuhlto— 
entitled " Odes of Horace, done into BngUsh by stvsral Bir- 
soosofFashkm.** 

• Quid bellirosas Cantabcr. et Scythes, 
Hlrplne Quincti, cogltet, Hadria 

Oivisos obiecto, rsMittas 



166 MOORE'S WORKS. 


1 Nor tremble, my lad, at the state of our granaries: 


While Otto of Roses 


Should there come famine. 


Refreshing all noses 


Still plenty to cram in 


Shall sweetly exhale from our whiskers and wigs. 


You always shall have, my dear Lord of the 




Stannaries. 


'■* What youth of the Household will cool our Noyau 




In that streamlet delicious. 


Brisk let us revel, while revel we may; 


That down "midst the dishes, 


« For the gay bloom of fifty soon passes away. 


AUfUlofgoldfishti, 


And then people get fat. 


Romantic doth flow? — 


And infirm, and— all that, 


»o Or who will repair 


3 And a wig (I confess it) so clumsily sits. 






That it frightens the little Loves out of their wits; 


And see if the gentle Marchesa be there? 




Go — bid her haste hither. 


4 Thy whiskers, too, Y— rm— th !— alas, even they. 


1^ And let her bring with her 


Though so rosy they bum. 


The newest No-Popery Sermon that's going — 


Too quickly must turn 


>« Oh! let her come, with her dark tresses flowing, 


(What a heart-breaking change for thy whis- 


All gentle and juvenile, curly and gay. 


kers!) to Grey. 


In the manner of^Ackermann*s Dresses for 




May! 


» Then why, my Lord Warden, oh! why should 




you fidget 




Your mind about matters you don't understand ? 




Or why should you write yourself down for an 
idiot. 




HORACE, ODE XXIL LIB. L 


Because "yow," forsooth, **hav€ the pen in 


FBEELT TRANSLATED BT LORD £LD~N. 


your hand/** 






IS The man who keeps a conscience pure. 


Think, think hoW much better 


(If not his own, at least his Prince's,) 


Than scribbling a letter. 


Through toil and danger walks secure. 


(Which both you and I 


Looks big and black, and never winces. 


Should avoid by the bye,) 




• How much pleasanter 'tis to sit under the bust 


" No want has he of sword or dagger. 


Of old Charley', my friend here, and drink 


Cock'd hat or ringlets of Geramb; 


like a new one; 


Though Peers may laugh, and Papists swagger. 


While Charley looks sulky and frowns at me, just 


He doesn't care one single d-mn. 


As the Ghost in the Pantomime frowns at Don 




Juan. 


'» Whether midst Irish chairmen going. 


• To crown us. Lord Warden, 


Or through St Giles's alleys dim. 


In C— mb — rl — ^nd's garden 


'Mid drunken Sheelahs, blasting, blowing. 


Grows plenty of monk's hood in venomous sprigs: 


No matter, 'tis all one to him. 


» Nee trepldet in luam 


Rettinguet ardentis Faleml 


Poicentit sri pauca. 




• Fuglt retro 


10 Qui! elidet domo 


Levis JuventM et decor. 


Lyden? 


» Pollente lucivot amor«t 


11 Btmma, die age, cum lyra (qu. Uar-a) 


Canitie. 


Mataret. 


4 Keque uno Luna rubnu nitet 


i> Incomtam Lacsnaa 


Vultu. 


More comam religata nodo. 


» Quid aetemii mimorem 


w Integer rltae scelerisque purus. 




14 Non eget Mauri Jaculis, neque arcu, 


• Cur non sub alU vel platano. vel bac 


Nee vencnatU gravida sagittis. 


IMnu Jacentos sic tcmere. 


Fusee, pliaretra. 


' Charles Fox. 


1* Sive per Sjrtes iter «stuo«as. 


• Roa 




Cano* odorati capilioa. 




Dum licet, Assyrlaque nardo 


I^amblt llydaspet. 


PoCamus uncti. 


The Noble Translator had. at first. laid the accne of thcM 


• Quia poer odut 





SATIRICAL AXD HUMOSOrS POEXSL 



ler 



T 



Got (Goi kmam% Wv) «d 



JJkT. 



KEW COfiTrME OF THE 1IIMSTER& 



WhcB lo! a Irak F 


■folteted 


AeraiBjpatk^gi 


»ii.g»»ib«g-. 


IfiAbitftowB,aBd 


offkeitancd. 


Sor d at w, era 


willKMt BT vig^ 



< Yet a man i ucc «i law-boa'd dog 
Goes Ml «D ana ia I>Bblia CitT, 
Kor ibakcs kk bragae o'er Alkn*! Bof, 
Nor ipoati ia Ga^olie Coa mi nee. 



Hatix« MBtofftkeaoopsof bnT« Mj^Camaew * 
Witk a fviagiag kone-tail at cack TakwtMB back* I 
Aad ioek kelaicca* God Mm at! m aercr dcck'd 

aaj 
3iale maian bdore. except Sigaor Gwraaai — 
- Lei*s tee.* said tibeB—g—t (like Tltas^pctplcx'd [ 
Wxtk tibe datics of cnpire.) ** wkoai dkotf I dic« | 
De«?" ; 

s Ok! plaee Be Bidft OHoarkcs, OTooIca, 

Tkc lagged rojal-blood of Tan; He knks ia tke gla«— kat p eifcc ti oo ii tkcre. 

Or plaee mt wkere Dick M n a rales j Wig. wkisken. and ckia-tafts all rigkt to a kair;< 

Tke koaiekai wildi of C onafma i a ; j Xol a tingle cr-cnrl on kis I br ek ead ke tracca— 

! For cvrb are like Minister». mange m tke caie ii» 
« Of Ckardi and Scue FU varble AiU TheJaUir tkey are, tke more Una in tkeir plaeciL 

Tkoo^ eT*n Dick M— it^-ns aetf ikonld Hiscoat ke next Tiews—bat tke coat wko coold 

doubt? 
For kis Y^nn— tk*s own Frenckificd kaad cat it 

oat ; 
ETery packer and seam were made mattcfs of stata. 
And a Grand Hoasekold Cooncil traskeldoBaadi 



Sweet Ckarek and State, like Jack and JiU, 
» So kmn^ apon a kiU — 

AkI ne'er like Jack and JiU to tamUe! 



pliti of Spall, ad had traulMai the words - que locaJUii- 
jotm lwrn t a Hydnpw " tbui— " The>Mny SpanlftrdlMte 
tiM FiCDch ; ** boc, reeollcctiiic that It to oar interest Joit 
Bov to ba mpaetftil to fyaafti CatboUn (tboagh there to 
oartafaily no earthly rcasoo for cor belof eren coaamoQly civil 
to IrUk oooa), be altered the pauage as ft Mands at present. 

> NauMiQe me lilrA lopiu in Sabini, 

Dum mram canto Lalagen, et ultra 
TenninoB cnrU vafor expeditit, 
Fogiti 



I CMUioC help calling the reader's attention to the peculiar 
ifen uH y with whidi these lines are paraphrased. Not to 
Mention the happj converrion of the Wolf into a Pa|rist, 
(sactaf that Romulus was suckled by a wolf, that Rome was 
founded by Romulus, and that the Pope has always reigned 
at Rome), there to something particuhu'ly neat in supposing 
** mMrm frrwdnum ** to mean vacation-time : and thm the 
nwdest consdousness with which the NoMe and Learned 
Translator has avoided touching upon the words " curto «r- 
p Mi§ ," (or, as it has been otherwise read, " eamtis crpedt- 
U$^**} and the feitdtous idea of hto bHng ** hiermto*' when 
*■ wItiMMit hto wig," are altogether the most delectable spccU 
meos of paraphrase in our language. 

* Quale portentum neque militarto 

Daonlas latto aUt mculetis, 
Kec Jnb« tellus generat leonum 
Arlda nutrlx. 



new-ng 



Tken wkom skill ke drem ? ikall ke 
bisbrotker. 

Great C— mb— rl— d*s Doke, witk some kickskaw 
or otber? 

* Fane ma pigrto obi nulla campts 



beings 



Quod latos mnndi, nrbulsi, mahasqna 
Jupiter urget. 
I must bete remark, that the said Dkk M— rt-« 
very good fellow. It was not aft all (air to make a 
Jupiter '* of him. 
« Dulee ridontem Lalagcn amabo, 

Dulee loquentenu 
* There cannot be inMglncd a more happy niostndon oT 
the hiseparabllity of Church and State, and their (what is 
called) » standing and CslUng together.** than thto aackot 
apologue of Jack and Jill. Jack, of course^ represan U tba 
State in thto ingenious Uttle Allegory. 
Jack feU down. 
And broke hto Ootns. 
And Jill cama tumbUng after. 



• That model of Princes, the F.mprmr 
particularly luxurious to the dressing and ornamenting 
his hair. Ills consclrnce. however, would not sull^ him 
trust himself with a barber, and he used, accordingly, to b« 
offhto beard—" tUnor«tonsorls.'*s«ysLampridlus. (ITAl.i 
gutt. Scriptor.) The dissolute £Uus Venia, too, was 
attentive to the decoration of hto wig. ( See Jul. Capltolln, 
Indeed, this was not the omip princely trait In the 
of Verus. as be had likewise a most hearty and d i g n lllad o 

tempt for hto Wife Sea hto fauialtinf asfwar to bar 

Spartianttt. 



)— 



168 



MOORE'S WORKS. 



And kindly inyent him more Christian-like shapes 
For his feather-bed neckcloths and pillory capes. 
Ah I no — here his ardour would meet with delays. 
For the Duke had been lately pack'd up in new 

Stays, 
So complete for the winter, he saw very plain 
*Twould be deyilish hard work to unpack him 

again. 

So, what*s to be done? — there's the Ministers, 

bless *em ! — 
As he made the puppets, why shouldn't he dres8*em ? 
•• An excellent thought I — call the tailors — be 

nimble — 
** Let Cum bring his spy-glass, and H—rtf— d 

her thimble ; 
•* While Y — rm— th shall give us, in spite of all 

quizzers, 
** The last Paris cut with his true Gallic scissors.** 

So saying, he calls C— stl — r — gh, and the rest 
Of his heayen-bom statesmen, to come and be drest 
While Y — rm — ^th, with snip-like and brisk ex- 
pedition, 
Cuts up, all at once, a large Cath*lic Petition 
In long tailors* measures, (the P — e crying ** Well- 
done 1** 
And first putf in hand my Lord Chancellor Eld — n. 



CORRESPONDENCE 

BETWEEN A LADY AND GENTLEMAN, 

UPON THE ADVANTAGE OF (WHAT IB CALLED) 
** HAYING LAW > ON ONE*B SIDE.** 

7^ Gentleman** Propotal, 



S'ei pla 



'* Legg0 aurea, 
«, ei Uce." 



Come, fly to these arms, nor let beauties so bloomy 

To one frigid owner be tied ; 
Your prudes may revile, and your old ones look 
gloomy. 

But, dearest, we*Te Law on our side. 

Oh I think the delight of two lovers congenial. 

Whom no dull decorums divide ; 
Their error how sweet, and their raptures how 
venial. 

When once thcy*ve got Law on their side. 

• In aUuiloo to Lord Ell— nt>— gh. 



"Us a thing, that in every King's reign has been 
done, too : 
Then why should it now be decried ? 
If the Father has done it, why shouldn't the Son, 
too? 
For so argues Law on our side. 

And, ev*n should our sweet violation of duty 

By cold-blooded jurors be tried. 
They can buthring it in ** a misfortune,** my beauty. 

As long as we*ve Law on our side. 



TTie JLadxfs Answer, 

Hold, hold, my good sir, go a little more slowly ; 

For, grant me so faithless a bride. 
Such sinners as we, are a little too lowly. 

To hope to have Law on our side. 

Had you been a great Prince, to whose star shining 
o*er *em 
The people should look for their guide, 
Then your Highness (and welcome !) might kick 
down decorum — 
You'd always have Law on your side. 

Were you ev*n an old Marquis, in mischief grown 
hoary. 

Whose heart, though it long ago died 
To the jAeatwree of vice, is alive to its glory — 

You still would have Law on your side. 

But foryoic. Sir, CrinL Con. is a path full of troubles ; 

By my advice therefore abide, - 
And leave the pursuit to those Princes and Nobles 

Who have wch a Law on their side. 



OCCASIONAL ADDRESS 

FOR THE OPENING OF THE NEW THEATRE 
OF ST. 8T— PH— N. 

INTENDED TO HAVE BEEN SPOKEN BT THE 
PROPRIETOR IN FULL C08TC7ME, ON THE 24TH 
OF NOVEMBER, 1812. 

This day a New House, for your edification. 
We open, most thinking and right-headed nation I 
Excuse the materials — though rotten and bad. 
They're the best that for money just now could be 

had; 
And, if echo the charm of such houses should be 
You will find it shall echo my speech to a T. 



SAHUECAL AND HUH CMOrS FQEHa 




169 



THE SALE OF THE TOOLSL 
Hbbk's a dntee tct cf Tools fcr tool Ge' 



Wit 01 pora^ 

topbr. 

►••IVrilioPfcT, 
been ploning and 

To get dHtf great actor froB Lrreipool, C--nii--g; 

I at the Cireae thete^s Bocfaiog attneti 
like a good jofir caai&af IvoBgiit in >vixt tibe acti. 
If the Ummager dioald, vith the help of Sir 



Gcftnp 




Theyll fit jonqoite handj, whatvrvr Toar trade ii; 
(Except it be Cmhrntt watta^;— no do«b(« 
In Aat delieate aerrice they'ie nther worn oat ; 
Thoogh their owner, bright Tooth! if he'd had hb 

ova will, 
Woald hare boagM away vith theai joToadT 

•tilL) 
Ton can aee tibej re been piettr wtell AatlW— aad 

alack! 
What tool is theie job after job win not hack ? 
Their edge is bat dollish, it ainst be conCeos'd. 

, And their temper, like E nb> h *s» actte of 

! tibebest: 

j Bat yoaH find them good hard-working ToQli» 

' upon trriog. 

I Wert bat for their bnus, tibej aie well worth the 

boring: 
, They're Ikmoos for making Mndk, tHJtn, wtA 



ihonld stop I And are, some of them, excellent faraoyinaehiMt. 



Who baowi bat well hare to annonnoe in the 



time — with additional 



•Gmd fi^— second 
cipei'ib 



Be yoor taste for the lodicroas, bomdram, or sad. 
There b plenty of each in this House to be had. 
Where oar Manager mleth, there weeping will be. 
For a dead kamd at trageify always was he ; 
And there nerer was dealer in dagger and cap. 
Who so tmiimgfy got all his tragedies up. 
His powers poor Ireland win never forget. 
And the widows of Walcberen weep o*er them yet 

So mnchfor the actors ; — for secret machinery, 
Trmpu, and deceptions, and shifting of scenery, 
T— lui th and Com are the best we can find. 
To transMt an that trickery bosiness behind. 
The former's employ'd too to teach us French jigs. 
Keep the whiskers in curl, and look after the wigs. 

In taking my leare now, Fve only to say, 
A fow Seatg in the Homae, not as yet sold away. 
May be had of the 3ianager, Pat C— stl— r— gh. 



> Lord C-rtl-r-ffh. 

• He had reccntlj ben appoliited Chancellor of the Rz- 



The first Tool 111 pat np (they caU it a CMa* 

ccJbr) 
HeaTy concern to both purchaser amd seller. 
Thoogh made of pig iron, yet worthy of note \is, 
Tis ready to imeit at a half minute's notice.' 
Who bids? Gentle buyer! 'twill turn as thon 

shapest; 
TwiU make agoodthumb-screw to torture aP^tist; 
Or else a cramp-iron, to stick in the wan 
Of some church that old women are foaiibl wUl 

fiOl; 
Or better, perhaps, (fbr Fm guessing at randooB,) 
A heary drag-cham for some Lawyer's old Ton- 

dtm. 
Win nobody bid ? It is cheap, I am sore, Sir- 
Once, twice, — going, going, — thrice, gone !^t is 

yours. Sir. 
To pay ready money you sha'n't be distrest. 
As a biU at Umg date suito the Chancellor belt 

Come, Where's the next Tool ?— Oh ! 'tis here 
in a trice — 
This implement, Ge*mmen, at first was a FSeti 
(A tenacious and cloae sort of tool, that win let 
Nothing out of its grasp it once happens to get t) 

* An allttsioo to Lord EM— a*a lacfaiTmoM l«diMiM. 



170 



MOORE'S WORKS. 



Bat it since has receiVd a new coating of Tin, 
Bright enough for a Prince to behold himself in. 
Come, what shall we say for it? briskly I bid on. 
Well the sooner get rid of it — going — quite gone. 
God be with it, such tools, if not quickly knock'd 

down. 
Might at last cost their owner — how much ? why, 

a Crown! 

The next Tool 111 set up has hardly had handsel or 
Trial as yet, and is alao a Chancellor — 
Such dull things as these should be sold by the 

gross; 
Tet, dull as it is, 'twill be found to shave clote. 
And like other close shavers, some courage to 

gather. 
This hiade first began by a flourish on leather,^ 
Tou shall have it for nothing — then, marvel with 

me 
At the terrible tinkering work there must be, 
Where a Tool such as this is (Fll leave you to judge 

it) 
Is placed by ill luck at the top of t^ Budget f 



LITTLE MAN AND LITTLE SOUL. 

A BALLAD. 

To ike tmme t^** There was a little man, and he woo*d a littie 
maid." 

DEDICATED TO THE RT. HON. CH — RL — 8 ABB — T. 

Arcades ambo 
Et cant-ue paret. 

1813. 
There was a little Man, and lie had a little Soul, 
And he said, ** Little Soul, let us try, try, try, 
** Whether it's within our reach 
" To make up a little Speech, 
** Just between little you and little I, I, I, 
•* Just between little you and little II *•— 

Then said his little Soul, 

Peeping from her little holt*, 
** I protest, little Man, you are stout, stout, stout, 

** But, if it*8 not uncivil, 

•* Pray tell me what the devil 
" Must our little, little speech be about, Iwut, bout, 
** Must our little, little speech l>c about ?'* 



1 ** Of the Uxf* proposM hj Mr. VansitUrt. that prind- 
pallj oppoMd tn Pariiament wa« th« additional dutj on 
|««tb«r.**~ 4mm, Register. 



The little Man look'd big 
With th' assistance of his wig. 
And he call'd his little Soul to order, order, order, 
Till she fear*d he*d make her jog in 
To gaol, like Thomas Croggan, 
(As she wasn't Duke or Earl) to reward her, 
ward her, ward her. 
As she wasn't Duke or Earl, to reward her. 

The litUe Man then spoke, 
** Little Soul, it is no joke, 
" For as sure as J— cky F— 11 — r loves a sup, 
sup, sup, 
^ I will tell the Prince and People 
«* What I think of Church and Steeple, 
** And my little patent plan to prop them up, up, up, 
** And my little patent plan to prop them up." 

Away then, cheek by jowl. 
Little man and little Soul 
Went and spoke their little speech to a tittle, 
tittle, tittle. 
And the world all dechire 
That this priggish little pair ' 
Never yet in all their lives look'd so little, little, 
litUe, 
Never yet in all their lives look'd so little I 



REINFORCEMENTS 
FOR LORD WELLINGTON. 

Sooaqoe tlM oommendat Troja Penatet 
Hos cape fktorum comite*. ViaciL. 

1813. 
As recruits in these times are not easily got. 
And the Marshal must have them — pray, why 

should we not, 
As th? last and, I grant it, the worst of our loans 

to him, 
Ship off the Ministry, body and bones to him ? 
There's not in all England, I'd venture to swear, 
Any men we could half so conveniently spare ; 
And, though they've been helping the French for 

years past. 
We may thus make them useAil to England at last 
C— stl — r — gh in our sieges might save some dis- 
graces, 
Beiug us'd to the taking and keeping of places; 
And Volunteer C — ^nn — g, still ready for joining. 
Might show off his talent for sly undermining. 
Could the Household but spare us its glory and pride. 
Old H— df— t at horn-works again might be tried. 



SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS POEMS. 



171 



ode: 
While V M tt t eoold Tielaal Uie troops iqmi 

And the Doetar look after the Iwggage mnd tiek. 

Nay, I do DOC tee why tibe great &— g— t himedf 
SbooU, in tioMe tadi M these, ftij at home OQ the 

ihdf: 
XlMNi^throaghiiantnrdelQethe'tiiot fitted topaas, 
Tct who eoald retiit, if he bore down CM Muae y 
And thoog^ oft, of an erening, perfaape he mi^t 

prove. 
Like our ^laniih eoofed'rates, ''nnaMetomoTe," ^ 
Tct tiiere'soae thing in warof adyantage onboonded. 
Which ii, that he coidd not with ease be MfTToaiidedL 

In my next I shall sing of their arms and equip- 



At present nomore, bat— good faick to the shipment ! 



HORACE, ODE L LIB. IH. 

▲ FBAOMENT. 

Odi p roft i num Tolgtu eC arceo : 
Farcte Ungiiia : earmina noo print 
Andita Mnaamm saeerdoa 
VlrgUiibiu pueriMiae canto. 
Begum timeDdorum in proprio* grefca, 
Bago in ip*o« iinperiam est JorU. 

1813. 
I HATE thee, oh. Mob, as my Lady hates delf ; 
To Sb Francis Fll give ap thy claps and thy 
hisses. 
Leave old Blagna Charta to shift for itself; 

And, like G— dw — n, write books for yoong 
masters and misses. 
Oh! it if not high rank that can make the heart 
merry, 
ETen monarchs themselyes are not fi-ee from 
mishap: 
Thoogh the Lords of Westphalia must quake before 
Jerry, 
Poor Jerry himself has to quake before Nap. 



1 The character giren to the Spanish loldler, in Sir John 
Mamqr*« memorable despatch. 

* The literal doseneai of the version here cannot but be 
admired. The Translator has added a long, erudite, and 
Oowerjr note iq>oa Rose$, of which I can merelj give a sped- 
mcn at present. In the first place, he ransacks the Rotarium 
P'oUUatm of the Persian poet Sadl. with the hope of finding 
some Political Roses, to match the gentleman hi the text— 
but in tain : he then tells us that Cicero accused Verres of 
reposing upon a cushion ** MeUtensi ro$d fartum** which. 
firoa the odd mixture of words, he supposM to be a kind of 
iHik Bed of Botes, like Lord Castlereagh's. The learned 



HORACE* ODE XXXYIIL LIB. L 



▲ FBAOHXHT. 




TILAK8LATKD BT ▲ TmKABirmT CLKEK, 
WAITDfO DDmBB FOB THB BIGHT HON. 



BoT, ten the Cook that I hate all niek^^Baekcries, 
Fricassees, Tol-an-Tents, pnfi» and gim-eraek- 



»x by the Horse-Guards!— old Georgy is late— 
Botcome — lay thetable-doch— aoonds! donotwait» 
Nor stop to inquire, wkile the dinner is staying 
At which of his places Old B^-e b delayiBg I • 



IMPROMPTU. 

UFON BBDia OBUQED TO LBAYB ▲ 

PABTT, FBOM THB WANT OF ▲ PAIB OV 
BBBBTWBa TO DBB88 FOB UMMBB IN. 

1810. 

Bbtwbbn Adam and me the great dxSiemioe ii» 
Though a paradise each has been ibre'd to rengBt 

That he nerer wore breeches, till tnni*d ootof hii^ 
While, for want of my breeches, Pm baniih'd 
from mine. 



LORD WELLINGTON AND THE 
MINISTERS. 

1813. 
So gently in peace Alcibiades smil'd. 

While in battle he Bh<me forth so terribly grand. 
That the emblem they gray'don his seal, was a child 

With a thunderbolt plac'd in its innocent hand. 

Oh Wellington, long as such Ministers wield 
Your magnificent arm, the same emblem will do; 

For while tAcgr're in the Council andjwa in the Field, 
We've the hcMu in ihaiL, and the lAtaidier in j|o«/ 



Clerk next farours us with some remarks opoo a 
panning epitaph on fkir Bosamond, and expi 
loyal hope, that. If ** Rosa munda *' mean ** a Roe* 
hands ** it maj be fimnd applicable to the Bight 
Rose in question. He then dwells at soma leogCh 
•* Rosa oMreo,'* which, though descrlptlTe, In ooa 
the old Treasury Statesman, yet, m being 
worn by the Pope, must, of oouna, not be bnmghC 
same atmosphere with him. Lastly, In t f A &nmok 
words *' old Rose," he winds up with the pathetk 
ofthePoet"eoDfenulsse Rosas.*' Thewboteaol 
shows a knowMga or BoMS, that to follt sdWyiBf. 



opoatlM 
of 



172 



MOORE'S WORKS. 



IRISH MELODIES. 



THE MARCHIONESS DOWAGER OF 
DONEGAL. 

It is now many years since, in a Letter prefixed 
to the Third Number of the Irish Melodies, I had 
the pleasure of inscribing the Poems of that work 
to your Ladyship, as to one whose character re- 
flected honour on the country to which they 
relate, and whose fHendship had long been the 
pride and happiness of their Author. With the 
same feelings of affection and respect, confirmed 
if not increased by the experience of every suc- 
ceeding year, I now place those Poems in their 
present new form under your protection, and am, 

With perfect sincerity. 
Your Ladyship's ever attached Friend, 

THOMAS MOORE. 



PREFACE. 

Though an edition of the Poetry of the Irish 
Melodies, separate from the Music, has long been 
called for, yet, having, for many reasons, a strong 
objection to this sort of divorce, I should with 
difliculty have consented to a disunion of the words 
from the airs, had it depended solely upon me to 
keep them quietly and indissolubly together. But, 
besides the various shapes in which these, as well 
as my other lyrical writings, have been published 
throughout America, they are included, of course, 
in all the editions of my works printed on the 
Continent, and have also appeared, in a volume 
fbll of typographical errors, in Dublin. I have 
therefore readily acceded to the wish expressed 
by the Proprietor of the Irish Melodies, for a 
revised and complete edition of the poetry of the 
Work, though well aware that my verses must 
lose even more than the ^anima dimidiwm^** in 
being detached from the beautiful airs to which it 
was their good fortune to be associated. 



The Advertisements which were prefixed to the 
different numbers, the Pre&tory Letter upon 
Music, &c will be found in an Appendix at the 
end of the Melodies. 



IRISH MELODIES. 



GO WHERE GLORY WAITS THEE. 

Gk) where glory waits thee. 
But, while fame elates thee, 

Oh I still remember me. 
When the praise thou meetest 
To thine ear is sweetest, 

Oh I then remember me. 
Other arms may press thee, 
Dearer friends caress thee. 
All the joys that bless thee. 

Sweeter far may be ; 
But when friends are nearest. 
And when joys are dearest. 

Oh! then remember me! 

When, at eve, thou rovest 
By the star thou lovest. 

Oh! then remember me. 
Think, when home returning, 
Bright we*ve seen it burning. 

Oh! thus remember me. 
Oft as summer closes. 
When thine eye reposes 
On its lingering roses. 

Once so lov*d by thee. 
Think of her who wove them. 
Her who made thee love them. 

Oh! then remember me. 

Wlien, around thee dying, 
Autunm leaves are lying, 
Oh I then remember me. 



± 



miSH MELODIES. 



173 



Asdf at mght, wtien gumg 
Od the gny hezvtk blazing^ 

Ob! still remember me. 
Then should musie, steciling 
All the ftoul of feelings 
To thy heart appeal ing, 

Draw one tear from theei 
Then let memory hrlug thee 
Strains I n&'d to siog tbee, — 

Oh ! then remember me. 



WAR SONG. 

REMEMBER THE GLORIES OF BRIEN 
THE BRAVE.1 

ReiCKirBER the glories of Brien the braye, 

Tho" ihe days of the hero are o*er; 
Tho* loit to Monoam -« and cold in the grave. 

He rettin» to KinkoraS oo more. 
That star of the field, which so often hath ponr*il 

Its beam on the battle, ia setj 
But enough of its glory remains on each Bword, 

To light us to Tictory yet 

Motionial when Nature embelHshM the tint 

Of iby fields, and thy moun tarns so fair, 
Did she ever intend that a tyrant should print 

The footstep of slavery there ? 
No 1 Freedom, whose Hmile we shall never resigni 

Go, tell our invaders, the Danes, 
That 'tis sweeter to bleed for an age at thy ahrine. 

Than to sleep but a moment in chains. 

Forget pot our wounded companions, who stood "^ 

In the day of distress by our side ; 
While the mo«s of the valley grew red with their 
blood, 

They stirr'd not» but conquered and died. 
That sun which now ble&ses our arms with his light. 

Saw them fall upon Oissory's plain j — 
Oht let him not blush, when he leaves us to-night. 

To find that they fell there in vain. 



I Brl«n Bonvmbe, the greai raonarch of IreUuid, wbo wm 
killed at tli« tutUe of ClonUrr, In tli» bcglnnlDg or Itifi Uih 
cfpoturf^ after hATlng defeated the Daiihbi Id twooty-ilTe en- 
Ifagementi. 

* Mufiiler, 

* Tile p«dace of nrion. 

* Thii ailudei to in lotereitlng clreuin>taiice relAbfid of the 
DalgAlj, the rivoiirite troops of Brlen, wben tbcf were Inter- 
rapled Id tholr return from tbe bottle of CloQtarft by Fltspfl- 



ERIN ! THE TEAR AND THE SMILE IN 
THINE EYES. 

EttiN, the tear and the smile in thine eyes. 
Blend like the rainbow that hangs in thy skies I 
Shining through sorrow's stream. 
Saddening through pleaMure's beam, 
Thy suns with doubtful gleam, 
Wt?ep while they rise. 

Erin, thy silent tear never shall eease, 
Erin, thy languid smile ne'er shall increase. 

Till like the rainbow's light. 

Thy various tints unite. 

And form in heaven's sight 
One arch of peace i 



OH! BREATHE NOT HIS NAME. 

Oh ! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade, 
^VTiere cold and unhonour'd his relics are laid: 
Sod, silent, and dark, be the tears that we sbed, 
As the night^ew that falls on the grass o'er his head. 

But the night<dew that falls, though in sileDce it 

weeps, 
Shall brighten with verdure the grave where he 

sleeps ] 
And the tear that we shed^ though in secret it roUii, 
Shall long keep his memory green in our souls. 



WHEN HE, WHO ADORES THEE. 

Whem he, who adores thee, has left hut the name 

Of his fault and bis sorrows behind. 
Oh I say wilt thou weep, when they darken the fame 

Of a life that for thee was resigned? 
Yes, weep, and however my Ibes may condemn. 

Thy tears shall efface Ihetr decree j 
For Heaven can witnesji, though guilty to them, 

I have been but too faithful to thee. 



trkJt, pritice of Onary, The wounded men entreated that 

tho}' might be allowed to fight with the rett ■■^' Let gtal^t 

(they MJd> be ttuck m the ground, and n^ffh- eadk q/' ut, ited 
to and mppartcd by onr oftheie HttkeM, to t^eplacrdm Ikt* rank 
% tfie tide qf a tound fitan." '^' Between tevwn aad eight 
hundred wounded rneii (add* O^Hallorari) pale, etnacinted, 
and iujiportcd In thii manner, appearfxl mixed with the fore- 
rooit of the troopi ; — ne»i!!r »*• Jiuch anQlbei- light eaUl- 
blted/' ^ Hutarv qflrekmd. txiok ill. qhap. I. 



J 



174 



MOORE'S WORKS. 



With thee were the dreams of my earliest love; 

Every thought of my reason was thine; 
In my hu;t hmnble prayer to the Spirit above. 

Thy name shall be mingled with mine. 
Oh I blest are the lovers and friends who shall live 

The days of thy glory to see ; 
Bat the next dearest blessing that Heaven can give 

Is the pride of thus dying for thee. 



THE HARP THAT ONCE THROUGH 
TARA'S HALL& 

The harp that once throagh Tara's halls 

The soul of music shed. 
Now hangs as mute on Tara*s walls. 

As if that soul were fled. — 
So sleeps the pride of former days, 

So glory's thrill is o'er. 
And hearts, that once beat high for praise. 

Now feel that pulse no more. 

No more to chiefs and ladies bright 

The harp of Tara swells ; 
The chord alone, that breaks at night. 

Its tale of ruin tells. 
Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes. 

The only throb she gives. 
Is when some heart indignant breaks. 

To show that still she lives. 



FLY NOT YET. 

Flt not yet, 'tis just the hour, 
When pleasure, like the midnight flower 
That scorns the eye of vulgar light. 
Begins to bloom for sons of night. 

And maids who love the moon. 
'Twas but to bless these hours of shade 
That beauty and the moon were made ; 
'Tis then their soft attractions glowing 
Set the tides and goblets flowing. 

Oh I stay.—Oh ! stay,— 
Joy so seldom weaves a chain 
Like this to-night, that oh I 'tis pain 

To break its links so soon. 



I SolU Foot. DMT th* Temple of AnnoD. 



Fly not yet, the fount that play'd 

In times of old through Ammon's shade, i 

Though icy cold by day it ran. 

Yet still, like souls of mirth, began 

To bum when night was near. . 
And thus, should woman's heart and looks 
At noon be cold as winter brooks. 
Nor kindle till the night, returning. 
Brings their genial hour for burning. 

Oh! stay,— Ohl stay,— 
When did morning ever break. 
And find such beaming eyes awake 

As those that sparkle here ? 



OH! THINK NOT MY SPIRITS ARE 
ALWAYS AS LIGHT. 

Oh! think not my spirits are always as light. 

And as firee fh)m a pang as they seem to you 
now; 
Nor expect that the heart beaming smile of to-night 

Will return with to-morrow to brighten my brow. 
No: — life is a waste of wearisome hours, 

Which seldom the rose of enjoyment adorns; 
And the heart that is soonest awidLC to the flowers, 

Is always the first to be touch'd by the thorns. 
But send round the bowl, and be happy awhile — 

May we never meet worse, in our pilgrimage here. 
Than the tear that ei^oyment may gild with a smile. 

And the smile that compassion can turn to a tear. 

The thread of our life would be dark. Heaven 
knows ! 
If it were not with friendship and love inter- 
twin'd ; 
And I care not how soon I may sink to repose. 
When these blessings shall cease to be dear to 
my mind. 
But they who have lov'd the fondest, the purest. 

Too often have wept o'er the dream they believ'd ; 
And the heart that has slumber'd in friendship 
securest. 
Is happy indeed if 'twas never deceiv'd. 
But send round the bowl ; while a relic of truth 
Is in man or in woman, this prayer shall be 
mine, — 
That the sxmshine of love may illumine our youth, 
And the moonlight of friendship console our de- 
cline. 



IRISH BIELODIES. 



175 



II 



THO" THE LAST GLIMPSE OF EEIN WITH 
SORROW I SEE. 

Tho' the Ijut glimpse of Erin with sorrow I see. 
Yet wherever thou art shall seem Erin to mc ; 
In exile thy bosom &h(kll stiO be my home. 
And thine eyes make my cllmnte wherever we roam. 

To the gloom of some deaert or cold rock j shore, 
Wb£re the eye of the stranger can haunt us no more, 
I will flj with my Coulin, and think the rough wind 
Less rode than the foes we leave frowning behind. 

And m gaze oo thy gold hab as graeeM it 
wreathesi 

And hang o*er thy sod harp, as wildly it breathes; 
Nor dread that the cold-hearted Siixon will tear 
One chord from that harp, or one lock from that 
hair J 



k 



RICH AND RARE WERE THE GEMS SHE 
WORE,« 

Rich and rare were the gems she wore, 

And a bright gold ring od her wand she bore $ 

But oh J her beaaty was &r beyond 

Her sparkling gems, or snow-white wand. 

** Lady I dost thou not fear to stray, 

•* So lone and lovely through this bleak way? 

** Are Erin's sons so good or &i> cold, 

** As not to be tempted by woman or gold ? " 

** Sir Knight I I feel not the least alarm, 

" No son of Erin wiil offer me harm: — 

** For though they love woman and golden store, 

** Sir Knight! they love honour and virtue more I ** 



» •* tn the tw«ity-«ighth f€«r of the rctirn of Uenrj VHS, 
«n Act irai made reipcctlng the habits, imd dr<>»i tn getipral, 
ofltac Iriihf wherebj all perK>ii> were reitralned from befi]|^ 
•hom or ihaTcii aborc the eaifi, or from waartng; Gllbbcri, or 
Gmtms (long lock»)« on their headft^ or h«ir on theJr upi^cr 
lip, called Crnniineal. On thii occaiion a long wu written 
by one of our tianLi, in which an [rl»h rlrgln U made to give 
the pf«r«rence lo h«r d^ar C<tulm (or the j^'outh with th« 
Aowlog lodu) to oil ttmngcrt (hj which the Euglith were 
OkMUit). or tbofc who ware their hnblti. Of thi> iong, the 
ftlr aloDo haB reached lu, miut li unJver&allj Micnired/' — 
WaOer't HistoriuU tiemoirt t^ Iriwh BartfM, p. 134. Mr. 
Watkoff tefortai tu alio, that, about tho tJim*t period, them 
w«r« tomb harth iiie««irea taken againit the Irbh Min 



itrela. 
* This ballad Ia foujaded upon the foUowInf anecdote : — 




On she went, and her maiden smile 
In safety lighted her round the Green Islei 
And blest for ever is she who relied 
Upon Erin's honour and Erin's pride. 



AS A BEAM OER THE FACE OF THE 
WATERS MAY GLOW. 

As a beam o'er the face of the waters may glow 
W^hile tlie tide nins in darkness and coldness btHow, 
So the cheek may be ting'd with a warm gunny smil^^ 
Though the cold heart to ruin runs darkly the while. 

One fatal rememhranee, one sorrow that throws 
Its hk^ak shiidc alike o'er otir joys and onr woes. 
To whieh life nothing darker or brighter can brings 
For which joy has no halm and afflietion no sting — 

Oh I this thought in the midst of enjoyment will 

stay. 
Like a dead, leafless branch in the summer's bright 

ray; 
The beams of the warm sun play round it in Tain, 
It may smile in bis light, but it blooms not again. 



THE MEETING OF THE WATERS.^ 

There is not in the wide world a yalley so sweet 
As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters 

meet ; * 
Oh ! the last rays of feeling and life must depart, 
Ere the bloom of that valley ahall fMe from mj 

heart. 

Yet it was not that Nature had shed o*er the scene 
Her purest of crystal and brightest of green j 



" The people were tniplred with jujch a ipirlt of honour, 
vlrtuct and rvllgioii^ by iho great example of Brien, and bf 
hli enccllpnt admlnUtratlon, that, ss n proof of it, we ar« tn- 
formed tliat a. jum^ kadf of grent beautj, adornM with jewelt 
«nil a cottljf dren, undertook n journey atone, from one en<l 
ofthi! kingilom to th« other, with a warn! only in her hand, 
at the top of which wai a rlt»|f of exceedjo^ g^rfnt ir*lue ; ami 
itKh an imfgresiion had Ihe lawf and ^uverniDd^Tit of till* 
Monarch made on the mindf of all the people, that no attempt 
wiu made upon her honour, nor wai ahe robbed of her clothcii 
or jewel*." — ** Warner'* HiMtorp qf IreSarnt, roL 1. ttnok x. 

3 " The Meeting of the Woiert " fonni a part of Ihat beau^ 
tlful Kenery which lie* between Ralhdnim and Arklow, In 
the county of Wlcklow^ and these llnei were luggetted by a 
viftit to thlt romantic ii|mi, in the sLtmnter of the year 1B07. 

< The rit-efi Avon and Atoca. 



176 



MOORE'S WORKS. 



'Twas not her soft magic of streamlet or hill. 
Oh ! no, — it was something more exquisite stilL 

*Twas that friends, the belov'd of my bosom, were 
near, 

Who made every dear scene of enchantment more 
dear. 

And who felt how the best charms of nature im- 
prove, 

When we see them reflected from looks that we love. 

Sweet vale of Avoca ! how calm could I rest 

In thy bosom of shade, with the friends I love best. 

Where the storms that we feel in this cold world 

should cease. 
And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in 

peace. 



HOW DEAR TO ME THE HOUR. 

How dear to me the hour when daylight dies, 
And sunbeams melt along the silent sea; 

For then sweet dreams of other days arise. 
And memory breathes her vesper sigh to thee. 

And, as I watch the line of light, that plays 
Along the smooth wave tow'rd the burning west, 

I long to tread that golden path of rays. 
And think 'twould lead to some bright isle of rest 



TAKE BACK THE VIRGIN PAGE. 

WRITTEN ON RETURNING ▲ BLANK BOOK. 

Take back the virgin page. 

White and unwritten still ; 
Some hand, more calm and sage. 

The leaf must filL 
Thoughts come, as pure as light. 

Pure as even you require: 
But, oh ! each word I write 

Love turns to fire. 

Tet let me keep the book : 

Oft shall my heart renew. 
When on its leaves I look, 

Dear thoughto of you. 
Like you, 'tis fair and bright ; 

Like you, too bright and fkir 
To let wild passion write 

One wrong wish there. 



ELaply, when from those eyes 

Far, far away I roam, 
Should calmer thoughts arise 

Tow'rds you and home ; 
Fancy may trace some line, 

Worthy those eyes to meet. 
Thoughts that not bum, but shine, 

Pure, calm, and sweet. 

And as, o'er ocean far. 

Seamen their records keep, 
Led by some hidden star 

Through the cold deep ; 
So may the words I write 

Tell thro' what storms I stray — 
You still the unseen light, 

Guiding my way. 



THE LEGACY. 

When in death I shall calmly recline, 

O bear my heart to my mistress dear ; 
Tell her it liv'd upon smiles and wine 

Of the brightest hue, while it linger'd here. 
Bid her not shed one tear of sorrow 

To sully a heart so brilliant and light ; 
But balmy drops of the red grape borrow. 

To bathe the relic from mom till night 

When the light of my song is o'er. 

Then take my harp to your ancient hall ; 
Hang it up at that friendly door, 

Where weary travellers love to call.' 
Then if some bard, who roams forsaken. 

Revive its soft note in passing along, 
Oh I let one thought of its master waken 

Tour warmest smile for the child of song. 

Keep this cup, which is now o'erflowing. 

To grace your revel, when I'm at rest ; 
Never, oh I never its balm bestowing 

On lips that beauty hath seldom blest 
But when some warm devoted lover 

To her he adores shall bathe its brim. 
Then, then my spirit around shall hover. 

And hallow each drop that foams for hiuL 



1 " In every houie was one or two harpt. Aree to all tra- 
▼ellert, who were the more caretMd, the more tbejr excelled 
in miule.*' ~ 0*HmUormm, 



IRISH MELODIEa 



I7T 



HOW OFT HAS THE BEXSUEE CRIED. 

How oil has the Benshce cried, 
How oft has death untied 
Bright links that Glory wove. 
Sweet bonds entwin'd by LoTe ! 

Peaice to each manly doul that sleepeth ; 

Rest to each faithful eye that weepetli; 
Long tuny the fair and braTe 
Sigh o'er the heroes grare, 

We're faU*n upon gloomy days! ' 

Star after star decays. 

Every bright name, that shed 

Ligbt o'er the hind, is fled, 
Dflirk fells the tear of him who mourneth 
Lost joy» or hope that ne'er retiimeth ; 

But brightly flows the tear, 

Wept o'er a hero's bier. 

Queac1i*d are owe beacon lights — 
Thott, of the Hundred Fights !« 
Thou, on whose burning tongue 
Truths peace, and freedom himg!' 

Both tnute, — but long as valour shineih. 

Or mercy's soul at war repineth, 
So long s^all EritiV pHde 
Tell bow they liv'd and died. 



WE MAY ROAM THROUGH THK 
WOULD. 

We may roam through this world, like a child at 
a feast, 
• ^Vbo but sipa of a sweet, and then flies to the 
rest ; 
And, when pleasure begins to grow dull in the east> 
VVc may order our wing«, and be off to the west ; 
But if hearts that feel, and eyes that smile, 

Are the dearest gifts that heaven supplies. 
We never need leave our own green isle, 

For sensitive hearts, and for sun -bright eyes. 
Then remember, wherever your goblet is crown'd. 
Thro' this world, whether eastward or we-stward 
youroiun, 

> t have cruifiATOUTHl 1irrc« vlthoiit loilng that Irbh ch.i- 
raiTt^r, whlcb It U my abjort to prr*L>rvc throughout thift work, 
to allude to ih*t lad and omlnauf fatditjr, by iwhlch liinf^lAcid 
bvt httm d«|}H*ed of *o many prrat und urtkodi men, nt «i. 
moment «hea lUe tnoit require* oU tint Aklt of tali-nt and In- 
twgrHy. 

* 'riilf d««i£tia(icm, wrblch hai tieen before applied to Lord 



When a cup to the smile of dear woman goes round. 
Oh ! remember the smile which adorns her at 
home. 

In England, the garden of Beauty b kept 

By a dragon of prudery pbced within call; 
But so oft this imam table dragon has slept. 

That the garden's hut carelessly watch 'd after alt. 
Ohl they want the wild sweet-briery fence, 

Which round the flowers of Erin dwells; 
TiVhich warns the touch, while winoing the sense, 

Nor charms us least when it mast repels. 
Then remember, wherever your goblet is crowned. 

Thro* this world, whether eastward or westward 
you roam, 
Wlien a cup to the smile of dear woman goes round. 

Oh ! remember the stmle that adorns her at home. 

In France, when the heart of a woman sets sail. 

On the ocean of wedlock its fortune to try. 
Love seldom goes far in a vessel so frail. 

But juiit pilots her off", and then bids hergood-bye. 
While the daughters of Erin keep the boy. 

Ever smiling beside bis fjithful oar. 
Through billows of woe, and Ijcams of joy » 

The same as he look'd when he left the shore. 
Then remember, wherever your goblt't iscrowo'd, 

Thro* this world, whether eastward or westward 
you rtiam. 
When a cup to the smile of dear woman goes round. 

Oh ! remember the smile that adorns her at home. 



I 



EVELEEN'S BOWER. 

Oil! weep for the hour, 

When to Eveleen's bower 
The Lord of the Valhn' with false vowi came*. 

The moon hid her light 

From the heavens that night. 
And wept behind her clouds o'er the maiden's shame. 

The clouds pass*d soon 

From the chaste cold moon. 
And heaven smil'd again with her vestal fl;ime; 

But none will see the day, 

When the clouds shall pass away, 
Whieli that dark liour left upon Evelecn^s fame. 



Kcilson. li the title gkco lo m cirlcbrnirHl Irlth IToro, In a 
PtRin. bj O'CJukc, Hic biirj of (>*Nlel, which It qiimted In ttie 
*' PhlliHophlcaL Survef ol the Baiuh of Ircluxl,*' |:>agc 43t3b 
" Con, of the Hundreil Fi^hti^ Al«f|> In th^-frrAiA-grfiiwn tnnibv 
and u(tbrntd not wxr di^f^at* with thy rlctorlei." 
' Fox, ■* Homannrura ultimui/* 




1?8 



MOOUE'S WORKa 



The while snow lay 

On the narrow path- way, 
When the Lord of the Valley crost Dvcr the moor; 

Aud maoy a deep prltit 

Oa the white anow*s tint 
Showed the track of hia fbotstep to Ereleen's door. 

The next Bun*$ ray 

Soon melted away 
Every trace on the path where the faUe Lord camej 

But there^s a light ahove, 

Which alone cau remove 
That staia upon the buow of &ir Eveleen's fame. 



LET ERIN REMEMBER THE DAYS OF 

OLD, 

Let Erin remember the day» of old, 

Ere her faithless sons betray 'd her; 
When Malachi wore the collar of gold,* 

Wh'tch he won from her proud invnder. 
Wlien ber kin^» with atiindard of green unfurl'd, 

Led the Red-Braoeh Knights to danger-; — 
Ere the emerald gem of the western world 

Was set in the crowo of a sirangir* 

On Longh Neagh*s bank, as the fisherman strays, 

When the clear cold eve's declining, 
n<* se«s the ronnd towers of other days 

Id the wave beneath him shining; 
Thus shaU tiiemory often, in dreams sublime, 

Cutch a glimpse of the days that are overj 
Thus, stghing, look through the waves of time 

For the long faded glories they cover. ^ 



* *' Tbli brifvaihl on an enmunter between Mnlofhl (the 
MonAirvh of irvUi>it In the tenth ct'oturf) And the Datiet, la 
which MatAchl defi^Ml two of their champioiii*, whom be tn- 
coiiinlerffd farceftlvely. Hind to hand, taking a colUr i>r goW 
frota the ii«>ck of on*, and ei^nj\n^ dH tbe »wnrd or the other, 
*■ trophtes of bit vkUxj" ^ Warner*^ llttlory </ Irftan4, 
tol. r linok !■« 

> " Mkllurj Qrd<»M of knlghtt were vtry parlj ectAbl1fth(>.1 
In tr^lnntl ; Inn^ lM>fnrc tba birth of Chrikt we Und on here- 
dJtAry m<WT of Chi miry In Uliti-r, calkMi Curai^kf n<t CrHtohhe 
rntttiA^ or the KnIghU of the R<xl Bratich. from lh#lr clil«r irwi 
Ifi l^mnnli, u4l}<^liitTi>r tn the pnlire of the Uhtrr kln^i. cnllrHJ 
7 v,i»M,orthr Academy nf the He^t DrAMch; 

ii.h wiu « liriite hn<i-luJ, foiini.1c«l for the 
1 1 iL'ri^ CAlled tSntabUi'arg, or the UouM^of 

pmtt t. thup. 5. 

> U ««■ «Q old tradition, la the time of Gir*lili». that 
I^Htich Nr4ffb liiul tmrn orlg1n4t1y« forititiiln, by whuM •U'tden 
oveiila«li3|; the country wot* InMOdjited, and a whole r«>gta«i, 



THE SONG OF FIONNUALAJ 

Sorest, oh Moyle, be the roar f>t thy waiter. 

Break not, ye breeies, your chain of rfpost*, 
Whik\ murmuring niournfnlly, Lir*5t lonely 
daughter 

Tells to the night-star her tale of woes. 
^Vhen shall the swan, her death -note singing, 

Sleep, with wiags in durknesa Atrfd ? 
When will heaven, its sweet bell ringing, 

Cali my spirit from this stormy world ? 

Sadly, oh Moyle, to ihy winter- wave weeping, 

Fate bids me languish long ages away ; 
Yet still in her darkness doth Erin lie sleeping, 

Still doth the pure light its dawning delny* 
When will thtit day-star, mildly springing, 

Warm our isle with peace and love? 
When will heaven, its sweet bell ringing, 

Call mj spirit to the fields above ? 



COME, SEND ROUND THE WINE. 

CoHE, send ronnd the wine, and leave points of 
belief 
To simpleton sages, and reasoning fcwlsi 
This moment's a flower too fair and hrief, 

To be withe r'd and stain'd by the dust of the 

schools. 

Your glass may be purple, and mine may be lilue. 

But, while ihey arc liird from the same bright 

bowl. 

The fool, who would quarrel for diff *retice of hue. 

Deserves not the comfort tht!!! shed o'er the souL 



like Qvt Atlsnilsef ritto, orerw hrtmt^ He My* thst the 0<li- 
ermcii, hidc»r «re«ther, ufixl to polnl mit to •tr«nBeri the t^ilL 
ciccleatMtlcal tow^r* uuder tbo WAter. Pt'tcatorr* aqum I'fLimg 
hirrft eceltHitificoM^ ^nte morf pntrite arttig ntni et s/M', 
necnan tl totHmtte. »uh Httdit mat*(ff*U ifrmo lemport ctN*- 
tpicitmi^ ft ettraneiM irann^Htt&tu^ rrnfue cauuu mdmi* 
roHtibuM./rnfufmtfr ottfmduni. — Tcfpt>^. Hib, dlit.t, €.9. 
^ T<n tn^ke tlili ftory luteUli^lblp tn m loog would requine * 
murb itreitter number of vrr«ei than any one U autborlied to 
lofbct ur'oo iin audlenoo At onre ; the reader nm»t iberefonp be 
rnutcTit to leam^ In a notttf that Fionnualo, the dAOfhter of 
Ur, WM, by lotne lupenuituriit fMJwer, tftniforined into a 
iwao,a!ikdcnnilf?mn(»Jt4) vamJcr, for many hundred y^art.ovrr 
cerUln lahe« and rivert In trftond, till the conalnK of ChrU* 
(Unity, when the flnt found of the aiMi-brll wo* to be the 
ilifn-i) of ber r«(ea«e, — 1 found thli fancirul (Irtlon ninous 
*oi&« nsanuicripC traii»latfon« fk-cmn the lH»h. which werelirgun 
ander the direction of that enllfhtcned friend of Ireland, the 
lot* Gounleu of Molnu 




miSH MELODIES, 



179 



Shall I ask the brave soldier, who fight« by my cido 

In the cxasc of monk lad, if our creeds agree? 
Shall I give up the friend 1 have valued aod triedf 

If he kneel not before the s&mc altar vrkh me? 
Prom the heretic girl of my soul should I fly, 

To seek somewhere else a more orthodox kias? 
No: perbh the hexirtti^ and tkie laws that try 

Truth, Toloar, or love, by a standard like this I 



StrBLBIE WAS TUE WARNING. 

8tnu.niE was ihe warning that Liberty epoke. 
And grand wo* the moment when Spimiarcis awoke 

Into life and revenge from the conqueror*s eh;iiii. 
Oh» Liberty I let not this spirit have re»t. 
Till it move» like a breeze, o'er the waves of the 

west — 
Give the light of your look to each i^orrowing spotf 
Nor, ohf be the shamrock of Erin forgot 

While you add to your garland the Olive of 
Spain! 

If the fame of our father^ bequeathed with their 

righto, 
Give to country its charm, and to home its deltgliLs, 

If deceit be a wound, and Buspieton a stain, 
Then, ye men of Iberia, oor cause is the same I 
And oh I may his tomb wont a titr and a name, 
V/Imo would a&k for a nobler, a holier death, 
Than to turn his last sigh into victory's brcrith. 

For the Shamroek of Erin and Olive t)f Spain! 

Ye Blokes and O'Donoels, whose fathers resign'd 
The green hills of ttieir youth, among strangers to 

find 
Thai repose which, at home, Ihey had sigb'd for 

in vain. 
Join, join in our hope that the flarae, which you 

light. 
May be felt yet in Erln» a^ calm, and as bright^ 
And forgiTfe even Albion while blusliiug she draws* 
Like a truant, her sword, in the long-slighted caus-:' 
Of the Shamrock of Erin and Olive of Spain ! 

God prosper the cause! — oh, it cannot but thrive. 
While the pulse of one patriot heart is alive, 

lift devotion to feel* nnd ils rights to maintain; 
Then, how sainted by sorrow, its martyrs will die! 
The finger of glory sball poiot where they lie; 

» Tb* (nriiLlnstiUUabk arc ijf St. nrldir«t, ftt Kildarr 
whicti Glmiaut metilj«tn s — " Apud KkMurhim occiinrU ignli 
S^mtJB BrifViij*, quera tnovtingutbikm vorant; mm qu^Hltrx- 
tiAflui non po««lt, ««1 quad tam lullcite uiouUlet et »Anct» 



While, far from the fooistep of coward or slave-. 
The young spirit «f Freedom shall shelter their 
grave 
Beneath SUamrocks of Erin and Olives of Spolnl 



I 



BELIEVE ME, IF ALL THOSE ENDEAR* 
IKG YOUNG CHARMS. 

BiiLij:^^ me, if all those endearing young charms, 

Which I gaxe on so fondly to-day, 
Were t<ji €haij:ge by to-morrow, and fleet in roy arms, 

Like fairy -gifts fading away, 
Thou wouldst still be ador'd, as this moment thou 
art, 

Let thy loveliness fade as it will. 
And around, the dear ruin eaeh wish of iiiy lieart 

Would entwine itself verdantly still. 

It is not while beauty and youth arc thine own. 

And thy cheeks nnpro&n'd by a tear 
That the fL^rvour and faith of a soul can be known. 

To which time will but make thee more dcar^ 
Ko, the heart that ha* truly lov'd never forgets. 

But as truly loves on to the close, 
As the Bun-flower turns on her god, when he sets, 

The same look which she turned whea he rose. 



I 



ERIN, OH ERIN. 

Lire the bright lamp, that shone in Kildare*s holy 
faoe , I 

And bum'd thro' long ages of darkness and stonn, 
U the heart that ftorrtiws have frowu'd ou in vain, 

Whose spirit outlives them, utifudbig and warm. 
Erin, oh Erin, thus bright thro' the tears 
Of a long night of bondage, tby spirit appears. 

The nations have fallctu and thou stiU art young, 
Thy sun is but rising, when others are seti 

And tho' slavery's do yd o'er Jhy morning hath hting 
Tbe full noon of freedom shall beam round thee 
yet 

Erin, oh Erin, tho' long in the shade, 

Thy star will sbine out wheo the proudest shall fade. 

muilcTM ignem, »uptwli"nte mAtcnrlA, fovent et rtiUrtunt. ut 9 
ti9tnp*>r9 I'lrginiJ per itAmmanim currliulii iprnper mnnitf hi- 
cxHrcImm." —GiraM. Camb. tie MiraM. Uibem, dljl. 1 c 34 




180 



MOORE'S WORKS. 



Uncbill'd by the rain, and unwak'd by the wind, 
The lily lies sleeping thro* winter's cold hoar, 

Till Spring's lighl toach her fetters unbind. 
And daylight and liberty bless the young flower. > 

Thus Erin, oh Erin, thy winter is past. 

And the hope that liv*d thro' it shall blossom at last 



DRINK TO HER. 

Drink to her, who long 

Hath wak'd the poet's sigh. 
The girl, who gave to song 

What gold could never buy. 
Oh! woman's heart was made 

For minstrel hands alone; 
By other fingers play'd. 

It yields not hidf the tone. 
Then here's to her, who long 

ELath wak'd the poet's sigh. 
The girl who gave to song 

What gold could never buy. 

At Beauty's door of glass. 

When Wealth and Wit once stood. 
They ask'd her, " which might pass?" 

She answer'd, " he, who could." 
With golden key Wealth thought 

To pass — but 'twould not do: 
While Wit a diamond brought. 

Which cut his bright way through. 
So here's to her, who long 

Hath wak'd the poet's sigh, 
The girl, who gave to song 

What gold could never buy. 

The love that seeks a home 

Where wealth or grandeur shines. 
Is like the gloomy gnome. 

That dwells in dark gold mines. 
But oh! the poet's love 

Can boast a brighter sphere; 
Its native home*s above, 

Tho' woman keeps it here. 



1 Mri. H. Tighe, In her exquisite linef on the Lily, has 
applied this Image to a still more important object. 

* We may suppose this apology to hare been uttered by 
one of those wandering bards, whom Spenser so sererely, and, 
perhaps, truly, describes in his State of Ireland, and whose 
poems, he tells us, " were sprinkled with some pretty flowers 
of their natural device, which have good grace and comeliness 
unto them, the which it is great pity to see abused to the 
gracing of wickedness and vice, which, with good 
would MTve to adorn and beauUff virtue.** 



Then drink to her, who long 
Hath wak'd the poet's sigh. 

The girl, who gave to song 
What gold could never buy. 



OH 1 BLAME NOT THE BARD.« 

Oh I blame not the bard, if he fly to the bowers. 

Where Pleasure lies, carelessly smiling at Fame; 
He was bom for much more, and in happier hours 

His soul might have bum'd with a holier flame. 
The string, that now languishes loose o'er the lyre, 

Might have bent a proud bow to the warrior's 
dart ;3 
And the lip, which now breathes but the song of 
desire, 

Might have pour'd the full tideof a patriot's heart 

But alas for his country I — her pride is gone by. 
And that spirit is broken, which never would 
bend; 
O'er the ruin her children in secret must sigh. 

For 'tis treason to love her, and death to defend. 
Unpri2*d are her sons, till they Ve leam'd to betray ; 
Undistinguish'd they live, if they shame not their 
sires ; 
And the torch, that would light them thro' dignity *8 
way. 
Must be caught from the pile, where their 
country expires. 

Then bhmie not the bard, if in pleasure's soft 
dream. 
He should try to forget, what he never can heal : 
Oh ! give but a hope — let a vista but gleam 
Through the gloom of his country, and mark 
how hell feel I 
That instant, his heart at her shrine would lay down 

Every passion it nurs'd, every bliss it ador'd ; 
While the myrtle, now idly entwin'd with his crown. 
Like the wreath of Harmodius, should cover 
his sword. ♦ 



> It If conjectured by Wormlus, that the name of Ireland 
is derived from ITr, the Runic for a bow, in the use of which 
weapon the Irish were once very exprrt. This derivation is 
certainly morn creditable to us than the following : ** So that 
Ireland, called the land ot Ire, from the constant broils therein 
for 400 years, was now become the land of concord."— iJoyrf'i 
StaU Worthies, art. The Lord Grandison, 

« See the Hymn, attributed to Alc«us, E» ftt/frm mXatit t$ 
fifsf f<fi|#w — ** I will carry my sword, hidden in myrtles, 
like Hannodlot, and Artstofitoo," &c. 



IRISH MELODIES. 



181 



Bat tho' gloTf be gone, and tho' hope &de away. 

Thy name, loT*d Erin, shall live in his songs ; 
Not ey'n in the boor, -when his heart is most gay. 

Will he lose the remembranoe of thee and thy 
irnrngB. 
The stranger shall hear thy lament on his plains ; 

The sigh of thy harp shall be sent o*er the deep. 
Till thy masters themselTes, as they rivet thy chains, 

Shall panse at the song of their captive, and weep. 



WHILE GAZING ON THE MOON'S LIGHT. 

Whilb gazmg on the moon*s light, 

A moment from her smile I tam*d. 
To look at orbs, that, more bright. 
In lone and distant glory bam*d. 
Butioofar 
Each proud star. 
For me to feel ito wanning flame ; 
Much more dear 
That mild sphere. 
Which near oar planet smiling came ; — i 
Thus, Bfary, be bat thoa my own ; 

While brighter eyes unheeded play, 
ni loye those moonlight looks alone. 
That bless my home and guide my way. 

The day had sunk in dim showers. 

But midnight now, with lustre meet, 
Illumin*d all the pale flowers. 
Like hope upon a mourner's cheek. 
I said (while 
The moon's smile 
Play'd o*er a stream, in dimpling bliss,) 
'* The moon looks 
** On many brooks 
** The brook can see no moon but this ;"9 
And thus, I thought, our fortunes run. 

For many a lover looks to thee. 

While oh ! I feel there is but one. 

One liary in the world for me. 



ILL OMENS. 

When daylight was yet sleeping ander the billow. 
And stars in the heavens still lingering shone, 

1 ** Of inch celestial bodies as are Tislble, the sun excepted, 
the single moon, as despicable as it is in comparison to most 
of the others, is much more beneficial than they all put to> 
gether.*'— Wki»ton*$ Theory^ ^c. 

In the EtreUeiu ^AritU^ among other ingenious emblems. 



Toung Kitty, all bloshing, rose up from her pillow. 

The last time she e*er was to press it alone. 
For the youth whom she treasured her heart and 
her soul in. 
Had promised to link the last tie before noon ; 
And, when once the yoong heart of a maiden is 
stolen. 
The maiden herself will steal after it soon. 

As she look*d in the glassy which a woman ne'er 
misses. 

Nor ever wants time for a sly glance or two^ 
A butterfly *, fresh from the night-flower's kisses. 

Flew over the mirror, and shaded her view. 
Enrag'd with the insect for hiding her graces. 

She brush'd him-:— he fell, alas! never to rise: 
*' Ahl such," said the girl, ** is the pride of oor 
faces, 

**• For which the soul's innocence too often dies." 



While she stole thro' the garden, where heart'i 
was growing; 
She cull*d some, and kiss'd off its night-fall'n dew ; 
And a rose, farther on, look'd so tempting and 
glowing. 
That, spite of her haste, she must gather it too : 
But while o'er the roses too carelessly leaning; 
Her zone flew in two, and the heart's-ease was 
lost: 
** Ah! this means," said the giri (and she sigh'd 
at its meaning), 
** That love is scarce worth the repose it will 
cost!" 



BEFORE THE BATTLE. 

Bt the hope within us springing, 

Herald of to-morrow's strife; 
By that sun, whose light is bringing 

Chainf or freedom, death or life — 
Oh! remember life can be 
No charm for him, who lives not flneel 

Like the day-star in the wave. 

Sinks a hero in his grave. 
Midst the dew-fall of a nation's tears. 

Happy is he o'er whose decline 
The smiles of home may soothing shine; 
And light him down the steep of years: — 



we find a starry slty without a moon, with these words, Hwn 
mfUtt quod ab»ms. 

* This image was suggested by the followhig thottght, 
which occurs somewhere In Sir WiUiaro Jones*s works: **T1m 
moon looks upon many nlght4towwt, the algirt- iow er m s b ut 
onemoon.** • Aa wsMew of the wL 



182 



MOORE\S WORKS, 



But oh, how blest they sink to rest, 
Who close their eyes on Victory's breast 1 

0*er his watch-fir«*s fading emh^rt 

Now the foeiiian's check turns i^hite, 
When hb heart that fiehl rememlK-rs, 

WUere wc ttini'd his tyrant mij^ht, 
NeTer let him bind agaia 
A chain, like tlmt we broke from then. 

Hark ! the horn of combat calls — 

Ere the golden evening fulls, 
May wo pledge that horn in triumph round!' 

Mtiny a heart that now beats high. 
In slumber cold at (light shall lie. 
Nor waken even at victory *« sound: — 
But oh, how blest that hero's sleepi 
O'er whom a wond'ring world shall weep ! 



AFTER THE BATTLE. 

NicHT elosM around tbc coD-jucror's way, 

And lii^htning^ show*d the distant hill, 
Wliere those who lost that dr*;adful day, 

Stood few and faint» but fearless «rtilL 
The 6«>ldier's hopL\ the patriot's zeaJ^ 

For ever dirum'd, for ever crost — 
Oh ! who shall say what heroes feel. 

When all hut life and honour's tost f 

The last sad hour of freedom's dream, 

And valour's task, niov'd slowly by. 
While mute they watch'd» till morning's beam 

Should riAe and give tKem light to die. 
Th*^re*8 yet a world, where souls arc free. 

Where tyrants taint not nature's bliss ; — 
If death that world** bright opening be. 

Oh 1 who would live a slave in this ? 



TIS SWEET TO THINK. 

•Tt« iwcet to think, that, where'er we rove, 
We are sure to find something blissful and dear, 

> '* TUe IrUh Co^rn* w&i not enUrdjr dproted to tnmrtUl 
fnirpokei. In Che heroic tgm, our locctlofi qmiW Meadh 
(Mit nf ihvm, Ai th« tUrtlih himleri do tluir tevsrafe tt tkli 

> I bellffre It li Mvfnoiil<»l who uijt,** Qmamltmm*mpa§ 
ee <ime Ptt* awm^, itfaut aimer cr que ton n."— Therv sre lO 
OMinjr mjitK^r-^tf-fact people, who trnke tuch jinu^ 4'ftprti «• ihXt 
dclbnce af incontuncy, totie the iiurtual aii4 gi>aiUne Mnitlmmli 



And that, wheo we're far from the lips we lore, 

We've but to make love to the lips we ore near.' 
The heartf like a tendril, accustom'd to cling, 

Let it grow where it will, cannot flourish ulone. 
But will lean to the nearest, and loveliest thing. 

It can twine with itself, and make closely its own. 
Then oh I what pleasure, where'er we rove. 

To be sure to fttid something, still, that is dear. 
And to know, when far from the lips we love. 

We've hut to make love to the lips we arc near, 

'Twere a shame, when flowers around us rise, 

To make light of the rest, if the rose isn't there ; 
And the world's so rich in resplendent eyes, 

*Twere a pity to limit one's love to a pair. 
Love's wing and the peacock's are nearly alike, 

They are both of them bright, but they're change- 
able too, 
And, wherever a new beam of lieauty can strike, 

It will tuicture Love's plume with a different 
hue. 
Then oh I what pleasure, when**er we rove, 

To be sure to And something, still, tliat is dear, 
And to know, when far from the lips we love^ 

We've but to moke love to the lips wc are near. 



THE IRISH PEASANT TO HIS MlSTBESS.a 

Throuoh grief and through danger thy smile hath 

obeer'd my way» 
Till hope seein'd to bud from each thorn that round 

me laj ; 
The darker our fortune, the brighter our pure love 

bum'd, 
Till shame into glory, till fear mto zeal was 

turn'd ; 
Yea, slave as I was, in thy arms my spirit felt fk*ce, 
And blesi'd even the sorrows that made me more 

dear to thee. 

Thy rival was houour'd, while thou wcrt WTong*d 

and seom'd, 
Thy cpowa was of brier*, while gold her brows 

adom'd ; 

«r him who write* thctn, that tbej romp*^! ono> In «e1f.d«l«itc«;, 
to IM! nji miitt<'r-or-r«rt u thpmiPlvet.aDd to miiind tbPTii, thttt 
DetnocrUui wai not tlia worte jihyiluloitlat, (or harlnpr fAaf. 
full J contended that mow wai l»b»ck ; nor CrAftmu*. In tmf 
deffTM. th« Ifltt wiie, for bxTing written &d iitgcolooi euo&^ 
tnJiuin of follf . 
> Meuiliif, sUofortnllj. ths sodeol Church of Irehuid. 




IRISH MELODIEa 



183 



She woo'd me to temples, whilst thou lay'st hid in 

Her fHends -were all masters, while thine, alas I 

were slaves ; 
Yet eold in the earth, at thy feet, I would rather 

be. 
Than wed what I loVd not, or turn one thought 

from thee. 

They slander thee sorely, who say thy tows are 
fnul— 

Hadst thoa been a fiedse one, thy cheek had look'd 
less pale. 

They say, too, so long thou hast worn those linger- 
ing chains. 

That deep in thy heart they have printed their 
servile stains — 

Ob! foul is the slander, — no chain could that soul 
subdue — 

Where shineth thy spirit, there liberty shineth 
too!i 



ON MUSIC. 

When thro* life unblest we rove, 

Losing all that made life dear, 
Should some notes we used to love, 
. In days of boyhood, meet our ear. 
Oh ! how welcome breathes the strain ! 

Wakening thoughts that long have slept ; 
Kindling former smiles again 

In faded eyes that long have wept 

Like the gale, that sighs along 

Beds of oriental flowers. 
Is the grateful breath of song. 

That once was heard in happier hours ; 
Fill*d with bakn, the gale sighs on. 

Though the flowers have sunk in death ; 
So, when pleasure's dream is gone. 

Its memory lives in Music's breath. 

Music, oh how fliint, how weak. 

Language fades before thy spell I 
Why should Feeling ever speak. 

When thou canst breathe her soul so well ? 
Friendship's balmy words may feign. 

Love's are ev'n more false than they ; 
Oh ! 'tis only music's strain 

Can sweetly soothe and not betray. 



1 •* Where the Spirit of the Lord is, ther« is Ubertjr." 
51. Pan/, S Cor. UL 17. 



IT IS NOT THE TEAR AT THIS MOMENT 
SHED.s 

It is not the tear at this moment shed. 

When the cold turf has just been laid o'er him. 
That can tell how belov'd was the friend that's fled. 

Or how deep in our hearts we deplore him. 
'Tis the tear, thro' many a long day wept, 

*Tis life's whole path o'ershaded ; 
'Tis the one remembrance, fondly kept. 

When all lighter griefs have faded. 

Thus his memory, like some holy light, 

. Kept alive in our hearts, will improve them. 

For worth shall look fairer, and truth more bright. 

When we think how he liv'd but to love them. 
And, as fresher flowers the sod perfbme 

AVhere buried saints are lying. 
So our hearts shall borrow a sweet'ning bloom 

From the image he left there in dying I 



THE ORIGIN OF THE HARP. 

'Tis believ'd that this Harp, which I wake now 

for thee. 
Was a Sjrren of old, who sung under the sea ; 
And who often, at eve, thro' the bright waters rov'd. 
To meet, on the green shore, a youth whom she 

lov'd. 

But she lov'd him in vain, for he left her to weep. 
And in tears, all the night, her gold tresses to steep ; 
Till heav'n look'd with pity on true love so warm, 
And chang'd to this soft Harp the sea-maiden's 
form. 

Still her bosom rose fair — still her cheeks smil'd 

the same — 
While her sea-beauties gracefully form'd the light 

frame; 
And her hair, as, let loose, o'er her white arm it fell. 
Was chang'd to bright chords utt'ring melody's 

speU. 

Hence it came, that this soft Hasp so long hath 

been known 
To mingle love's language with sorrow's sad tone; 
Till thou didst divide them, and teach the fond lay 
To speak love when I'm near thee, and grief when 

away. 



s These lines were oceasloiMd by the loM of a TCiyiMsraBd 
dear releUve, who had died latcfy at MaUn. 



w 


r 








134 MOORE'S WORKS. 






There comes a new link 




LOVERS YOUNG DEE AM. 


Our spirits to sink — 
Oh! the joy that we taste, like the light of the 






Oh 1 the days are gone, when Beauty bright 


poles. 






My heart's chain wove ; 


Ts a flush amid darkness, too brilliant to stay^ 






When roy dream of life, from morn till nigbt, 


But, though 'twere the la«t little spark in our souls