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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


THE  SPANIARD; 

AND 

SIORLAMH, 

A  TRADITIONAL  TALE   OF   IRELAND, 

IM  THE 

FIFTEENTH  CENTURY; 
■WITH 

OTHER    POEMS. 


BY 

PRESTON  FITZGERALD,   ESQ. 


Tenui  meditabor  arundine  Muaam ; 

Kec  injnssa  cauo.  Firg. 


LONDON: 


PRINTED  FOR  VERNOR,  HOOD,  AND  SIIARPE,  31,  POULTRY; 
AND  W.  FIG6ES,  NASSAU  STREET,  DUBLIN. 

ISIO. 


W.  Wilson,  Printer,  St.  Jolin's  Square,  Louduii. 


TR 

THE  DEDICATION. 


TO 


WILLIAM  THOMAS  FITZGERALD,  ESQ. 


3IY  DEAR  FRIEND, 

It  loo  often  appears  the  preposterous  fate  of  frieml" 
ship  to  be  taxed  by  the  good  intentions  that  support 
it ;  and,  when  we  wish  to  evince  our  afiection 
by  some  decided  proof,  it  may  frequently  be  said 
we  only  inflict  a  kindness.  Of  this  nature,  perhaps, 
my  dedication  to  you  of  the  following  trifles 
«ay  be  considered  an  awkward  instance.  Yet  you 
will  pardon  it,  I  trust,  when  you  reflect  that  it  is 


<">  r-^  <r^>  J",  /  ■%  y^ 


IV  DEDICATION. 

the  only  testimony  in  my  -power  to  offer  of  the  re- 
spect I  feel  for  your  talents,  and  the  esteem  I 
cherish  for  your  virtues.  The  earliest  associations 
are,  I  believe,  loved  the  latest;  and  the  chance  of 
birth,  which  fit^t  introduced  to  you  my  youth,  is 
now  fondly  remembered  in  manhood  among  the  hap- 
piest circumstances  of  my  being.  In  you  I  found 
perhaps  the  rarest  of  human  gifts,  disinterested 
friendship, — which  in  one  country  supplied  the  care 
and  kindness  of  a  dear  and  respected  father  in  an- 
other, and  proved  the  inspirer  of  my  sentiments  and 
guide  of  my  purer  tastes.  Yourself  a  poet,  the 
generous  independence  of  a  freeman,  chastened  by 
the  loyal  deference  of  a  subject ;  a  genuine  love  of 
country,  which  shared  all  her  triumphs  and  all  her 
sorrows  with  unaffected  joy  and  grief;  the  seclusion 
of  the  scholar  relieved  and  enlivened  by  the  manners 
of  the  gentleman ;  the  tasteful  treasures  of  the  Muses 
expended  to  supply  the  funds  of  Charity,  and,  with 
a  just  appropriation,  to  feed  the  wants  of  neglected 


DEDICATION.  V 

genius  and  unlamented  learning — form  the  features 
of  your  literary  labors,  and  fixed  my  early  vote  of 
admiration  and  esteem.  How  then  can  I  deny  my- 
self the  gratification  of  expressing  it  now  1  This 
done,  my  expectations  are  bounded,  and  my  pro- 
spects closed.  I  look  not  to  the  glowing  regions  of 
Fame,  satisfied  if  the  few  pieces,  which  bear  my 
name  but  to  connect  it  with  your's,  can  prove  that, 
amid  the  gaieties  and  follies  of  youth,  your  lessons 
and  example  were  not  entirely  forgotten. 

I  remain. 
Your  ajOfectionate  relation. 

And  attached  friend, 

PRESTON  FITZGERALD. 

Upper  Berkeley  Street, 
Porttnan  Square, 
Feb.  1810. 


PREFACE, 


Of  composilions  like  those  that  form  the  following 
collection  little  is  necessary  to  be  said ;  but  should 
curiosity  enquire  into  their  origin  it  will  be  found  in 
the  feelings  of  one  who  wished  to  approach  the  Mu- 
ses even  in  his  pleasures.  Prompted  by  no  pursuit, 
and  urged  by  no  necessity,  the  author  has  sometimes 
indulged  his  taste  in  stealing  from  the  turbulent 
delights  of  youth,  or  the  noisy  business  of  men,  into 
the  silent  and  unfrequented  paths  of  Poetry.  A  few 
of  the  unvalued  thoughts  he  collected  there  were 
dear  to  friendship,  and,  cherished  and  preserved  by  it, 
are  scattered  over  the  ensuing  pages.  This  forms 
the  history,  though  by  no  means  the  apology,  of  the 
present  work. 


Vlli  PREFACE. 

The  Spaniard,  the  first  piece  which  appears  in  the 
collection,  was  written  with  Ihe  sympathy  common 
to  every  feeling  bosom  in  his  melancholy  fate.  For 
who  can  listen  without  in<iignalion  or  disgust  to  the 
cold  and  fallitcious  reasoning  which  would  separate 
hb  cause  from  that  of  freedom  and  humanity  ?  If 
his  character  be  sometimes  stained  with  indolence  or 
bigotry,  and  his  form  of  government  be  defective, 
does  that  entitle  another  state  to  force  amendment  on 
him,  and  obtrude  a  new  polity  at  the  point  of  the 
bayonet?  Supposing  the  very  worst,  and  most  de- 
tested government  on  earth,  as  the  existing  power  of 
France,  were  the  best  and  most  admired,  like  that  of 
England,  yet  its  plea  would  be  unjust,  and  its  at- 
tempt flagitious,  to  compel  improvement  in,  much 
less  usurpation  upon,  Spain.  Freedom  is  a  sacred 
right  investing  a  nation  among  nations,  as  an  indivi- 
dual among  the  many;  and  to  interfere  in  its  do- 
mestic policy,  to  rob  it  of  its  choice,  or  force  it  from 
its  habits,  however  erroneous,  is  an  audacious  viola- 
tion of  the  unalienable  liberties  of  mankind ;  which 


PREFACE.  IX 

should  awaken  the  sympathy  and  rouse  the  indigna- 
nion  of  every  thinking  and  manly  mind.  Granting 
the  Spaniard  to  be  what  his  enemies  represent  him, 
a  bigot  and  a  slave,  and  which  his  spirit  and  genero- 
sity have  often  contradicted,  still  he  prefers  that  situa- 
tion to  becoming  the  victim  of  an  unprincipled  and 
sanguinary  foreign  tyrant,  and  acting  so  is  entitled  to 
the  applause  and  support  of  every  friend  to  the  in- 
terests of  his  country  and  mankind.  The  advocates 
of  an  opposite  sentiment  are  not  perhaps  aware  that 
they  juslly  contended  against  such  a  principle  ia 
the  case  of  modern  France,  when  they  exclaimed  "  base 
"  and  bad  as  she  is  leave  her  to  herself;  you  have  no 
"  right  to  interfere  in  her  domestic  polity."  And 
surely  they  are  not  less  the  enemies  of  the  liberty 
than  of  the  happiness  of  mankind  who  would  place 
the  sorrows  of  the  Spaniard  out  of  the  pale  of  Pity ! 
For,  waving  the  considerations  of  right,  what  violent 
revolution,  effected  by  blood  and  force,  has  ever 
proved  faithful  to  its  principle  or  permanent  in  its 
promised  eftects  1  Rapine,  slaughter,  self-interest,  and 


THE  SPANIARD- 


Offspring  of  glory,  sheath'd  in  patriot  mail. 
Child  of  just  warfare,  gen'rous  Spaniard,  hail ! 
Firm  on  Gerona's  wall  the  hero  stands. 
Defence  and  vengeance  blazing  from  his  hands, 
Darts  on  each  impious  head  resistless  fire, 
And  sees  the  tyrant's  withering  pow'rs  expire  j 
The  storm  of  giant  siege  repels  from  high, 
And,  godlike,  guards  his  heav'n  of  liberty ! 
Then,  in  some  pause  the  ebb  of  battle  leaves. 
Thus  with  deep  thought  his  anxious  bosom  heaves ; 
Oh !  that  the  few  who  fill  this  faithful  tow'r 
With  victory  thus  could  crown  each  future  hour; 

B 


THE   SPANIARD. 

In  strength,  as  soul,  superior  to  their  fate, 

With  prostrate  foes  thus  pile  their  loyal  gate; 

And  Frantfe,  for  ever,  from  th'  indignant  brave 

Thus  find  a  timeless  anti  unpitied  grave ! 

But  crowding  hosts  of  treach'rous  slaves  refuse 

To  happier  hope  her  bright  and  sanguine  hues. 

Ob,  abject  state !  oh,  nation  lost  to  fame! 

Dead  to  the  ardor  of  the  patriot  flame. 

Why  see  your  gallant  sons  who  dare  the  fight, 

Convinc'd  of  glory  and  assufd  of  right, 

Thus  fall  unaided  in  their  sacred  cause. 

Which  e'en  trom  strangers  generoas  succour  draws  ? 

When  Treason  first,  with  foreign  arms  combin'd, 

Broke  the  best  powers  of  the  lofty  mind, 

Our  prince  compell'd  his  people  to  disown. 

And  find  a  prison  for  his  native  throne; 

Where  was  the  spark  that  wak'd  the  flame  of  old. 

And  kindled  in  the  bosoms  of  the  bold  ? 


THE  SPANIA«0.  3 

Where  the  proud  bands  on  Pampeluna's  plain  *, 

Fir'd  with  a  generous  rage,  a  high  disdain, 

Who  stood  their  country's  bulwark  'gainst  the  fee, 

And  laid  the  banner  of  th'  invader  low? 

Th'  unconquer'd  Charlemagne's  high  boast  beat  down, 

Bruis'd  on  his  haughty  front  the  iron  crown, 

And  o'er  the  field  his  slaughter'd  nobles  strew'd, 

t)eep  with  ambition's  bloody  stains  imbu'd  ? 

Has  fame,  has  glory,  with  our  fathers  fled. 

And  serve  their  rays  but  to  illume  the  dead  ? 

Immortal  spirits  of  the  just  and  brave. 

Born  to  protect  the  weak,  and  form'd  to  save  ! 

Who  dar'd  for  freedom  to  contend  once  more, 

And  gave  to  Spain  the  deathless  days  of  yore. 


♦  This  alludes  to  the  celebrated  battle  in  which  Charlemagne,  the 
preat  prototype  of  Buonapaite,  lost  his  army  and  his  honor,  in  an 
itteinpt  on  Spain.  Scarce  one  of  his  nobles  survived  to  accompany 
liis  retreat  into  France. 


THE  SFAMAS0* 

Bade  awful  Marathon  expand  anew 
In  all  the  vengeance  to  a  tyrant  due; 
And  dread  Thermopylae's  compacted  fight 
Blaze  from  Navarre  upon  the  ravish'd  sight : 
Ob !  send  some  portion  of  your  sacred  iire 
This  tame,  subdu'd,  degenerate  race  t'  inspire : 
Give  them,  with  Palafox,  that  glow  divine 
Which  gilds  defeat,  and  makes  e'en  ruin  shine; 
Bid  every  town  uprear  th'  immortal  wall; 
All  glorious  triumph,  or  all  glorious  fall ! 
'From  Saragossa's  ashes  to  the  skies 
Grateful  let  freedom's  generous  flame  arise; 
Spread  wide  the  work  of  universal  war; 
With  floods  of  fire  the  tyrant's  progress  bar; 
Consume  the  soil  before  his  hateful  sway. 
And  with  destruction's  torches  strew  his  way ! 
So  should  he  wrest  at  length  our  vanquish'd  land. 
And  fate  condemn  her  to  bis  dire  command. 


THE  SPANIARD. 

A  desart  wild,  an  hideous  waste  alone 
Silent  shall  view  his  solitary  throne  j 
No  fruits  to  deck  his  tributary  plain, 
Nor  life  t'  illume  the  shadows  of  his  reign ! 
There  plac'd,  like  death,  amid  eternal  shade, 
To  rule,  accurs'd,  the  ravage  he  hath  made, 
A  cheerless  conquest,  and  a  drear  controul. 
With  gloomy  triumph,  shall  appal  his  soul ; 
And  write  this  lesson  in  the  blood  that  stains 
The  fading  flowers  of  unoffending  plains. 
That  wild  Ambition,  though,  with  whelming  tide 
It  burst  the  barriers  that  oppose  its  pride, 
Unpitying  sweep  the  swelling  year's  increase, 
The  hope  of  industry  and  smile  of  peace. 
The  happy  home  where  meek  affections  dwell. 
And  e'en  the  tombs  that  those  affections  tell ; 
Bid  ruin'd  art,  and  mourning  nature  yield 
The  prostrate  column  and  the  wasted  field ; 


THE   SPANIARD. 

Dissolving  matter  into  atoms  fall, 

And  elder  night  and  chaos  swallow  all ; — 

It  ne'er  can  tame  with  terror's  forceful  dart. 

Nor  basely  bow  the  elevated  hearth 

Man  still  is  free,  unconquer'd,  unconfin'd. 

In  the  large  privilege  of  boundless  mind ; 

Which  bears  him  *bove  the  ills  that  time  deform, 

And  wings  his  eagle  spirit  o'er  the  storm. 

No  sluggish  bond,  no  earthly  clog  restrains, 

He  springs  triumphant  from  th'  oppressor's  chains; 

Greatly  resolv'd  can  other  regions  try, 

And  mock  the  baffled  tyrant  from  the  sky  ! 

Thus,  fail'n  Spaniard !  thus  but  dare  the  deed, 

Aspire  to  freedom,  nor  refuse  to  bleed ; 

Though  victory  yet  her  laurel  should  withhold. 

And  force,  or  stronger  treason,  bend  the  bold ; 

Though  the  last  wreck  of  country  strew  thy  shore, 

And  give  to  ruthless  pow'r  one  trophy  more, 


THE.  SPANIARD. 

That  saving  valor,  still,  thy  form  and  fame 
Shall  snatch  from  slav'ry  and  the  brand  of  shame ; 
Enshrine  thy  memory  in  Iberia's  breast, 
Embalm'd  by  virtue  and  by  pity  bjest  j 
While  Honor,  crested  with  ethereal  plume. 
Shall  wave  his  seraph  wings  and  watch  thy  tomb; 
Enroll  thy  name  among  th'  immortal  few. 
Who  liv'd  for  glory,  and  who  died  Ute  you; 
Then  bear  the  flaming  scroll  to  burn  on  high 
The  eternal  guard  and  light  of  liberty  ! 
These,  these,  at  least,  beyond  Napoleon's  pow'r. 
Shall  long  out-live  his  transitory  hour ; 
Live,  when  the  fury  of  his  genius  gone. 
The  world  shall  hush  its  agonizing  groan; 
And  the  stain'd  urn  of  once  confineless  crime, 
Ensanguin'd  monument  to  future  time. 
Holds  but  his  wasting  wreck  and  impious  name 
To  waken  horror  or  enkindle  shame  ! 


THE  SPANIARD. 

Perfidious  man !  insatiate  and  accurst, 
Why  bid  the  tempest  fall,  the  thunder  burst 
On  guiltless  heads,  and  faithful  to  thy  land. 
Allied  in  peace  and  leagu'd  in  friendship's  band  ? 
Unarm'd  we  lay,  confiding  in  thy  word, 
Then  felt,  surpris'd,  thy  desolating  sword  j 
Ignobly  captive  saw  our  monarch  led, 
Betray'd  to  bow  his  high  anointed  head 
To  foreign  infamy,  and  novel  rule. 
Ambition's  servile  sport  and  trampled  tool ! 
Our  sovereign  house  by  treas'nous  Godoy  sold. 
Disloyal  slave  of  base  intrigue  and  gold ! 
Son  against  father  set,  in  monstrous  strife. 
To  raise  an  umpire  of  their  crown  and  life ; 
And  snatch  the  sceptre  from  contending  hands, 
Enfeebl'd  and  ensnar'd  in  hostile  lands. 
See  hapless  Charles,  undecciv'd  too  late. 
An  exil'd  wand'rer,  weep  his  forfeit  state. 


THE  SPANIAED. 

And,  backward  bending  his  estrang'd  desire, 
Seek  in  his  native  realms  at  last  t'expire ! 
In  vain,  alasl  those  aged  tears  must  flow, 
And  pour,  unpitied,  their  neglected  woe ! 
But,  royal  Ferdinand !  thine  ardent  youth, 
Thy  lofty  spirit,  and  unconquei'd  truth, 
(No  feeble  light  of  delegated  day,) 
Shall  yet  redeem  thine  alienated  sway. 
Rise  and  resume  the  faint  deputed  pow'r 
That  in  thine  absence  rules  the  darken'd  hour, 
And  quench  its  dubious  and  uncertain  rays 
In  patriot  majesty's  celestial  blaze! 
Yet,  yet,  my  fears  this  fonder  dream  disown. 
Benignant  lustre  of  a  lawful  throne ! 
Dark  clouds  impede,  and  dim  the  glowing  view 
That  looks  to  happiness,  renown,  and  you ! 
In  vain  we  try  the  tangled  labyrinth's  maze, 
A  sullen  mystery  mocks  our  fruitless  gaze  ! 


JO  THE  SPANIARD. 

In  vain  explore  the  secret  work  of  hate, 

Wrap'd  in  th'  impervious  cloak  of  silent  fate ! 

No  ear  can  catch  the  friendless  captive's  groan. 

His  prison  viewless,  and  his  place  unknown, 

No  sound  Ensues;  and  e'en  the  voice  of  fame 

Fears  hut  to  hreathe  his  interdicted  name ! 

Thus,  lost  and  buried  in  a  living  tomb, 

What  hope  can  break  the  darkness  of  his  doom  ? 

Thus  wrong'd,  and  rob'd,  insulted,  and  betray'd, 

Can  pow'r  e'er  pardon  the  sad  wretch  it  made  ? 

No;  fated  tyranny  can  never  dare 

The  glorious  deed  to  pity  and  to  spare ; 

On  force  alone  its  fell  dominion  rests, 

And  dreads  the  weakness  of  relenting  breasts; 

In  mercy  still  susi>ects  some  latent  foe, 

And  fears  that  virtue  it  can  never  know. 

Oh !  pain  to  think!  ai^  must  each  loyal  prayV 

Then  lose  its  generous  fervor  in  despair? 


THE  SPANIAEP.  11 

Mqst  the.  full  tide  of  fruitless  valor  flow 

A  waste  of  worth  in  unavailing  woe? 

And  these  proud  splendors  of  a  patriot  fire 

But  light  our  murder'd  monarch's  funeral  pyre? 

Perhaps  e'en  now  some  dungeon's  depth  contains 

The  mangled  horrors  of  his  sad  remains, 

Where  fate  anj^ther  Bourbon  doom'd  to  feel 

The  ruthless  slaughter  of  usurping  steel, 

And  strew'd  with  Ferdinand  in  D'Enghein's  grave, 

The  young,  the  great,  the  wretched,  and  the  brave ! 

Yet,  though  forbid  to  break  thy  galling  chain. 

Avert  thy  sorrows,  and  restore  thy  reign; 

Though  the  loud  thunders  of  these  ramparts  peal 

The  knell  of  freedom,  and  Iberia's  weal; 

Yet,  while  one  tow'r  shall  stand  to  bear  on  high 

Thy  standard,  waving  to  the  pitying  sky. 

One  town  unsack'd,  one  trench  unstorm'd, 

Oae  sacred  refuge  for  the  vow  we  form'd; 


12  THE  SPANIAED. 

Still  Spain  shall  see  th'  unshrinking  warrior  rise, 
Who  fearless  consecrates  her  cause,  and  dies; 
Or,  spar'd  that  fate  he  envies  in  the  dead, 
Who  calmly  sleep  in  honor's  halloVd  bed. 
Leads  the  last  few  he  yet  aspires  to  save 
To  find  repose  beyond  ihe  western  wave, 
And,  like  the  Trojan,  long  with  cares  opprest. 
Conveys  his  country's  ashes  in  his  breast! 
To  wake  once  more  beneath  the  smiles  of  time 
The  seeds  of  empire  in  some  happier  clime, 
And  bid  new  realms,  still  ripening  into  pow^r. 
With  spring  revive  Hispania's  faded  hour. 
Thus  'scap'd,  oh !  proud,  yet  melancholy  doom ! 
From  slavery's  scourge  by  exile  or  the  tomb. 
The  tyrant's  empty  grasp  shall  ne'er  controu} 
Th'  immortal  spirit  of  the  free-born  soul ! 
But  England!  proud  associate  of  the  thought! 
Dear<o  each  sacred  right  with  glory  bought! 


THE   SPANIARD.  13 

Lo,  England !  gen'rous  ally  of  distress, 
Who  loves  the  wretched  and  delights  to  bless ! 
I  hear  her  thunders,  view  her  martial  fire; 
They  conae,  they  kindle  ev'ry  great  desire: 
Her  valiant  sons,  now  marshal'd  on  our  plains, 
For  us  exhaust  the  treasure  of  their  veins; 
No  more  confin'd  to  sweep  the  subject  sea. 
They  land,  they  lead  th'  example  to  be  free. 
Oh !  say,  shall  strangers  dare  a  foreign  fight 
To  shield  another's  liberty  and  right: 
Corunna  see  beneath  her  feeble  wall 
Th'  exhausted  hero  of  her  battles  fall; 
Moo»e,4inreliev'd,  for  us  receive  his  doom, 
His  course  of  triumph  shrunk  within  the  tomb? 
Shall  Talavera's  field  ensanguin'd  shew 
The  scatter'd  trophies  of  the  prostrate  foe, 
And  Wellesley's  laurels  thicken  o'er  his  brow. 
While  Spain  beholds  her  fading  glories  bow  ? 


14  *rHE   SPANIARD. 

Say,  shall  his  valor  meet,  his  arms  sustain 
The  shock  of  danger  on  the  fierce-fought  plain, 
Alone,  unhelp'd  by  her  he  came  to  save. 
Far  from  the  circle  of  his  native  wave  ? 
With  conquest  flush'd,  he  leads  his  gallant  band 
Elate  from  Lusitania's  rescu'd  land. 
Vimeria's  honors  blushing  on  his  crest, 
While  Lisbon's  gratitude  inflames  his  breast, 
He  comes,  the  champion  of  a  people's  cause, 
Of  suffering  man,  of  outrag'd  nature's  laws, 
He  comes,  and  lo !  new  realms  rejoicing  see 
The  Gaul  again  before  the  Briton  flee. 
Yet  Spain  withdraws  her  palsied  hand  afar. 
Nor  grasps  the  spear,  nor  hurls  the  bolt  of  war; 
Unsham'd  she  stands,  and  unrepenting  views 
The  friendly  blood  that  all  her  soil  imbues ; 
Unaiding  sees  the  trophied  standards  fall 
Which  Wellesley  wav'd  on  Talavera's  wall; 


THE  SPANIARD.  15 

And  left  to  her,  when  urg'd  by  glorious  toil, 
New  wants  impell'd  him  from  th'  intrusted  spoil. 
Few  are  the  gifts  of  fortune's  fleeting  hours, 
And  rare  on  virtue's  path  her  scanty  flow'rs; 
Yet  when  they  rose,  and  bright'niug  on  our  way. 
Caught  the  full  radiance  of  triumphant  day, 
O'erwhelming  terror  bruis'd  each  glowing  gem. 
And  crush'd  the  hope  that  hung  on  ev'ry  stem. 
Degrading  ills!  these,  baleful  luxury,  these 
The  woes  and  weakness  o(thy  deep  disease ! 
Why  ask  the  heart  to  swell,  the  pulse  to  beat. 
With  nobler  energy  and  gen'rous  heat, 
When  firom  each  vein  the  tide  of  life  retires. 
And  chill  contagion  numbs  its  ardent  fires? 
The  creeping  lethargy  of  wealth  invades. 
And  wraps  the  slumb'ring  soul  in  deadly  shades'; 
Each  nerve  unstrung,  each  failing  mind  unbrac'd, 
Shews  but  the  feeble  form  of  lime  disgrac'd; 


l6  THE   SPANIARD. 

One  stagnant  mass  of  long  corrupted  powV> 
Dull  and  unconscious  of  the  genial  hour 
That  comes  to  gladden  with  reviving  rays, 
And  wake  the  being  of  forgotten  days. 
Oh,  retribution !  dread,  yet  just  to  feel. 
Which  gave  Potosi's  gold  for  Spanish  steel. 
Spread  round  that  ruin,  from  the  gifts  we  gain'd. 
Which  once  we  pour'd,  with  ev'ry  crime  distain'd. 
On  helpless  heads,  and  sent  the  plunder'd  ore 
To  waft  attendant  curses  to  our  shore. 
Still  tempt  the  spoiler  where  the  treasure  lies. 
Yet  sap  the  spirit  that  should  guard  the  prize. 
Ye  hapless  victims !  shades  of  slaughter'd  hosts. 
Who  pensive  wander  o'er  your  native  coasts ! 
Ye  murder'd  Incas!  now  behold,  though  late. 
The  justice  render 'd  to  your  ravag'd  state ; 
See  your  oppressor's  sons,  now  sad,  atone 
The  causeless  cruelty  tbat  rent  your  throne; 


THE    SPANIARD.  17 

Those  gaudy  rays  that  won  tW  invader's  eyes 

Now  dart  in  livid  lighttiings  through  the  skies; 

The  wealth  that  wak'd,  the  gems  that  rous'd  their  hate, 

Now  teem  with  vengeance,  and  explode  in  fate  ! 

Yet  hear,  oh,  God !  and  though  this  scourge  be  due. 

Inflict  it  not  with  hands  to  iheeuntnie; 

If  Spain  must  fall,  and,  blazing  to  the  skies, 

Th' accepted  incense  from  her  aslies  rise, 

If  her  proud  boast  of  once  refulgent  days 

Must  fade  for  ever  from  the  sphere  of  praise, 

Her  latest  splendor  leave  the  longing  eye, 

Her  strength,  renown,  and  lustre  sink  from  high, 

Oblivion's  darken'd  curtain  drop  between. 

And  night  and  sorrow  wrap  her  closing  scene, 

Yet,  yet,  reserve  it  for  some  purer  hour, 

Some  gen'rous  conqueror,  some  glorious  pow'r. 

Let  not  low  guilt  here  play  his  farce  of  fame, 

And  while  he  drinks  our  blood,  imprint  our  shame. 


18  THE   SPANIARD. 

No  great,  though  wrong,  desire  impels  his  course, 
Revenge  and  rapine  only  lure  his  force ; 
No  ancient  vices  sink  heneath  his  sword, 
But  new  arise,  and  hail  their  lawless  lord ; 
Pale,  meagre,  want  pursues  his  wasteful  way, 
And  spectres  crowd  his  desolated  sway ! 
Avert  it  heaven !  or,  oh !  if  fix'd  to  see 
The  sad  fulfilment  of  thy  dread  decree  ! 
Yet,  yet,  accept  one  melancholy  pray'r. 
The  parting  hope  that  prompts  a  patriot's  care , — 
Let  not  these  eyes  behold  my  country's  woe, 
But,  spar'd  that  pang,  lie  seal'd  in  peace  below  ; 
Unconscious,  view  not  in  the  friendly  grave 
The  tortur'd  parent  'twas  forbid  to  save ; 
Nor  see  the  tyrant,  red  with  kindred  gore, 
O'er  her  p^le  corse  disport  or  triumph  more ! 
Oh !  grant  me  this,  for  this  can  yet  be  mine, 
Thine,  ardent  Blake !  and  tried  Romana !  thine : 


THE  SPANIARD.  19 

Yes,  gallant  spirits !  though  the  storm  devour, 
Unbought  by  gold,  unbroken  still  by  pow'r, 
At  least  we'll  rescue  from  the  with'ring  flame 
The  generous  glories  of  untainted  fame; 
All-daring  stand,  amid  the  bolts  of  fate. 
Serene,  unshaken,  clasp  the  sinking  state ; 
Firm  in  the  field,  and  faithful  on  the  wall, 
With  freedom  flourish,  or  with  freedom  fall ! 


It  is  unnecessary  to  add  that  Oerona  has  fallen,  and  the  Spaniard 
is  perhaps  no  more. 


SIORLAMH  AND  CELIDA; 


A  TRADITIONAL  TALE,  4c, 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


Jt  ROM  periods  remote,  and  nearly  lost  in  the  obscurity  of 
distance,  down  to  the  close  of  the  fifteenth  century,  when 
McDonald,  from  Scotland,  and  Chichester,  from  England^ 
ancestors  of  the  present  noble  houses  if  Donegal  and  An' 
trim,  possessed  themselves  of  those  tracts,  the  north-eastern 
and  north-western  parts  of  Ireland  were  governed  by  their 
native  monarchs.  Of  these  the  M'Quillans  ruled  over  An- 
trim; and  coeval  with  them  the  O'Nials,  or  O'Neals,  held 
sovereign  sway  in  Londonderry  and  Tyrone;  zchilc  Done- 
gal, anciently  called  Tyrconnell,  had  too  its  independent 
princes.  These  countries  are  contiguous,  and,  in  consequence, 
were  often  the  theatres  of  the  ambition,  rapine,  and  revenge 
of  their  barbarous  chieftains.  One  of  those  tragic  scenes, 
principally  furnished  by  tradition,  forms  the  subject  ofSior- 
lamh  and  Celida.  The  castles  described  in  this  poem  have 
been  setn  by  the  author  in  all  the  gloomy  grandeur  of  decay, 
and  must  have  once  possessed  considerable  importance.  The 
remains  of  the  residence  ofO^Nial,  the  eldest  of  three  brothers, 
who  forms  a  principal  figure  in  this  piece,  and  whose  memory 
is  still  preserved  by  the  Irish,  in  a  phrase  signifying  Harry 
the  Bad,  are  seated  on  a  bold  hill  above  Newton  Stewart,  in 


ADVERTISEMENT. 

the  county  of  Tyrone.  He  was  a  monster  of  perfidy  and 
cruelty ;  and  the  histbries  of  the  country  describe  his  daugh- 
ter as  disgusting  in  her  person,  hideous,  misshapen,  and  huv- 
ng  the  head  of  a  swine.  Her  deformity  proving  a  bar  to 
his  ambition,  in  the  alliances  he  wished  to  form,  provoked 
him,  it  is  said,  to  hang  every  chieftain,  once  in  his  power, 
who,  having  seen,  refused  to  marry  her.  The  fate  of  one 
young  prince,  among  tlie  many  victims  of  the  tyrant,  is  still 
lamented  in  tradition,  and  induced  the  author,  during  an 
occasional  residence  near  the  scene  of  his  suffering,  to  intro- 
duce him  as  the  hero  of  a  poetical  tale. 

The  ruins  of  Dunluce,  the  sovereign  seat  of  M^Quillart^ 
fattier  of  Celida,  appear  on  an  insula'ed  rock  that  toucrs 
perpendicularly  above  the  sea,  near  the  Giant's  causezcay,  and 
have  alzcays  proved  an  object  of  interest  to  the  traveller  who 
visits  that  prodigy  of  nature.  Its  lords  are  represented  as 
possessed  of  all  the  qualifications  that  constitute  the  virtues 
of  barbarism; — generosity,  courage,and  hospitality  ;  and  are 
still  regrelLed  as  innocent  sacrifices  to  the  ungenerous  policy 
of  British  comistls,  guided  by  the  cold  and  cunning  James, 

On  the  zchole,  fiotvever,  this  simple  production  pretends 
m»re  to  a  general  delineation  of  manners  than  an  historical 
representation  of  facts  in  those  uncultivated  times,  and  is 
the  work  of  one  accustomed  to  dwell  with  interest  on  the  re- 
mains of  national  antiquity,  and  indulge,  perhaps,  an  use- 
less and  melancholy,  but  unoffending,  taste  in  flinging  the 
beams  (f  fancy  over  the  ruins  of  time. 


SIORLAMH  AND  CELIJJA: 

A  TRADITIONAL  TALE,  Sgc. 

Remote,  unknown,  where  sits  lerne's  isle, 

And  her  lone  fields,  amid  the  waters,  smile, 

The  wond'rous  Causeway  spreads  his  giant  boast, 

'Neath  the  tall  cliffs  that  crown  the  sculptur'd  coast; 

The  pillar'd  masses  all  the  tempest  brave, 

And  round  their  feet  whole  oceans  pow'rless  rave; 

While  o'er  their  vasty  heads,  from  ages  hoar. 

The  North's  red  meteors  glare,  and  thunders  roar. 

There  bold  Dunluce's  sea-girt  rock  defies, 

Capt  with  dark  tow'rs  that  frown  amid  the  skies, 

And  strong  in  ruin,  awful  in  decay. 

Speak  the  past  glories  of  another  day. 


26  SIORLAMH    AND   CELIDA. 

When  Quillan's  sceptre  Antrim's  race  controul'd, 

And  shed  the  lustre  it  possest  of  old : 

Here,  in  the  circle  of  her  father's  reign, 

The  first  and  fairest  of  the  virgin  train  ! 

The  lovely  Celida  each  bosom  fir'd 

To  prove  the  passion  that  her  charms  inspir'd. 

Amid  the  youth,  the  brightest  and  the  best!  . 

Stood  Siorlamh,  in  princely  pride  confest. 

He,  of  the  neiglibouring  chiefs  most  try'd  in  war. 

Had  spread  the  splendor  of  bis  fame  afar; 

And,  still  in  bloom  of  early  years,  arose 

His  friends  firm  hope,  and  termor  of  his  foes. 

The  tender  thought  through  each  fine  feature  broke, 

While  his  nerv'd  frame  his  faithful  courage  spoke. 

So  form'd,  and  fond,  he  could  not  breathe  in  vain 

The  fervent  sighs  that  told  hb  am'rous  pain. 

As  the  mild  breezes  of  the  west  repose 

On  the  warm  bosom  of  the  yielding  rose, 


SIORLAMH   AND   CELIDA. 

And  win  their  wishes,  dear  and  undelay'd, 
His  vows  possess'd  the  fair  consenting  maid ; 
Her  prince  she  own'd,  disdaining  coy  controul. 
Lord  of  her  fate,  and  sov'reign  of  iier  soul ; 
While  her  glad  sire  approv'd  the  smiling  pair, 
And  saw  in  Siorlamh  a  regal  heir : 
For  nature  to  his  pray'rs  deny'd  a  son 
To  rule*  the  turbid  realm  his  valor  won. 
Thus  happy,  and  elate  in  hope,  they  prove 
The  pride  of  policy,  and  bliss  of  love ! 
Calm  peace  expands  her  rich  unruffled  wing 
To  waft  the  odours  of  returning  spring ; 
Each  sense  and  season  have  combin'd  their  pow'r* 
T'  exalt  the  pleasure  of  the  nuptial  hours. 
Now  when  the  wearied  orb  had  sunk  to  restj 
And  left  his  latest  splendor  in  the  west, 
The  lovers  steal  from  all  the  noise  of  state 
To  seek  the  calm  congenial  to  their  fate ; 


2S  SIORLAMH    AND    CELl^DA. 

And,  in  the  silence  to  affection  dear, 

Taste  their  mute  wishes  through  th'  impassion'd  tear. 

A  secret  bow'r,  that,  'mid  th'  incirchng  grove. 

Had  witness'd  oft  the  transports  of  their  love, 

Receiv'd  them  blest,  when  lo  !  a  sudden  sound 

Of  rushing  spearsmen  shakes  the  trembling  ground. 

Swift  from  its  scabbard  flies  Siorlamh's  blade, 

And  shines  terrific  through  the  dusky  shade ; 

But  shines  in  vain !  though  four  confess  his  ragtfj 

Smote  by  the  prowess  of  his  tender  age. 

The  gallant  prince,  oppress'd  by  hosts,  they  bind, 

And  soon  their  vessel  skims  before  the  wind ; 

Their  treach'rous  vessel !  glad  to  bear  afar 

The  royal  victim  of  ungcn'rous  war  ! 

But  first  their  dead  companions  they  convey'd, 

Down  the  steep  cliff,  to  hide  the  debt  they  paid, 

Lest  arms  or  men,  remaining,  might  disclose 

Their  country  to  the  prompt  pursuit  of  foes. 


SIORLAMH    AND    CELIDA.  29 

Meanwhile  what  griefs  fair  Celida  assail  ? 
Her  tears  refuse  to  flow,  her  pulses  fail ; 
On  the  cold  earth  her  lovely  limbs  are  strewn, 
And  her  white  breast  is  froze  to  senseless  stone  ! 
So  the  sweet  blossom  on  some  favor'd  hill 
That  felt  ne  rougher  gale,  no  ruder  chill. 
From  the  gay  height  that  won  the  warmer  ray, 
And  gave  its  beauty  brighter  to  the  day, 
Expos'd  the  more  to  meet  the  ruthless  storm. 
Shrinks  in  the  blast,  and  bows  its  lifeless  form  ! 
Alarm'd,  by  long  delay,  the  father,  wild, 
Seeks  in  her  custom'd  haunts  his  darling  child. 
Oh,  God !  what  horror  struck  his  aged  sight 
When  on  his  daughter  glar'd  the  torch's  light! 
Alone,  bereft  of  lover,  reft  of  all, 
Low  in  the  dust,  and  senseless  to  his  call ! 
Soon  dark  suspicions  o'er  his  bosom  roll. 
And  rage,  with  pity,  shares  his  trembling  soul./- 


^0  SIORLAMH  AND  CELIDA. 

Could  he,  t^uld  Siorlamh  have  thu5  betray'd, 
Ahd,  basely,  fled  the  fair  confiding  maid? 
Fled  when  her  heart,  her  happiness  repos'd 
On  the  pure  truth  his  spotless  life  disclos'd? 
Yet  had  she  with  the  youth,  alone,  retir'd, 
No  foe  was  near  with  deadly  hate  inspir'd  ! 
Distracted,  thus,  the  wretched  monarch  sighs, 
And  lifts  to  heav'n  his  sad  imploring  eyes ! 
The  royal  sufTrer  his  sad  pages  bear. 
And  to  her  virgin  train  consign  their  care; 
Then,  slowly  moving  tow'rds  the  palace  gate, 
Mingle  their  tears,  and  mourn  the  good  and  greah 
Now  rumour's  myriad  tongues  aloud  proclaim 
The  Other's  anguish,  and  the  daughter'-s  shame : 
Swiftly  the  tale  is  borne  to  Conlocli's  ear, 
Conloch  to  Siorlamh  the  friend  most  dear ; 
Soon  as  he  hears  (be  foul  and  slanderous  taint 
That  touch'd  his  prince,  he  spurns  at  all  restraint. 


SIOaLAMH   AND   CELIDA.  31 

Repels  his  master's  wrong,  asserts  his  fame, 
Defies  his  foes,  and  braves  their  threat'ning  flame. 
Bold  in  a  gen'rous  cause,  he  reach'd  the  court,^ 
Found  the  fair  subject  of  the  sad  report. 
And  in  the  monarch's  presence,  where,  she  lay, 
Ilis  haughty  prologue  would  have  forc'd  its  way; 
But  Celida  revives  with  slow  return, 
And  life's  renewing  lamp  begins  to  burn; 
To  sense  recall'd,  she  heaves  a  heart-drawn  sigh, 
Then,  in  estrangement  lost,  with  wand'ring  eye. 
Exclaims,  "  Fly,  Siorlamh,  those  fatal  men. 
Oh,  fly !"  then  sinks  in  seeming  death  again. 
Soon  as  the  wretched  Celida  bad  spoke 
A  dread  conviction  on  their  bosoms  brokek 
More  quick  or  sure  the  light'ning's  sudden  rays 
Ne*er  on  the  traveller  flash'd  their  frightful  blaze. 
Then  Conloch  thus :  "  Oh  King !  my  speech  is  vain, 
"  And  useless  now  the  vindicating  strain; 


32  810RLAMH   AND   CBLIDA. 

"  The  honor  of  my  prince  I  sought  to  shield, 
**  Which  ne'er  to  art  or  arms  was  known  to  yield; 
"  Unaw'd  by  thousands,  and  before  thy  throne, 
"  T' uphold  his  fame  and  so  maintain  my  own; 
"  But  from  suspicion's  pestilential  stain 
"  We  find  acquittal  in  the  princess'  pain. 
**  Her  words,  tho'  wildeFd,  speak  the  mournful  cause, 
"  A  base  infringement  of  all  human  laws ; 
"  Too  well  I  know  the  sanguinary  king 
'*  From  whose  fell  bosom  all  these  horrors  spring; 
**  Remorseless  man!  revengeful  and  accurst! 
"  Or  to  name  all  in  one,  and  name  the  worst, 
"  O'Nial  I  yes,  'twas  he,  that  fiend !  I  feel 
"  Who  thro'  the  bower  dispos'd  the  treach'ious  steel, 
"  And  tore  from  thence  the  terror  of  his  age, 
-    **  Th«  hapless  captive  of  his  wily  rage. 
<*  Scarce  has  the  sun  revolv'd  his  annual  course 
"  Since  the  rude  chief  has  sought,  by  fraud  or  force. 


SIORLAMH  AND^  CELIDA.  33 

"  Ta  gain  the  person  of  the  gallant  youth ; 

"  For,  withf  inferior  pow'r  and  manly  truth, 

"  SiorJamh  stood  the  fury  of  his  frown, 

"  And  the  fierce  terrors  that  invest  his  crown, 

"  Exerted  to  subdue  a  gen'rous  heart, 

"  And  bend  it  to  that  foul  and  faithless  part, — 

"  To  join  his  fate  to  her  each  sense  abhorr'd, 

"  And  for  the  husband  prove  th'  oppressive  lord !   ' 

"  The  tyrant  scofTd  at  scruples  light  as  these 

"  To  mar  the  hopes  Ambition  stoop'd  to  seize, 

"  Resolv'd  the  prince  his  monstrous  child  should  v^ed, 

"  Though  doom'd  to  see  him  loath  her  hated  bed ! ' 

"  The  wretched  subject  of  this  shameless  strife 

"  Fate  ne'er  design'd  to  prove  the  happy  wife ; 

"  For  step-dame  nature  had  but  just  supply'd 

"  The  sex's  diflference,  and  its  grace  deny'd 

"  To  formless  Mora  :  She  a  curse  was  given, 

"  Blighted  in  body,  by  avenging  Heav'n 


34  SIORLAMH    AND   CELIDA. 

**  To  wound  CNial's  peace,  and  plague  his  pride, 

"  And  fix  tlie  gnawing  serpent  in  liis  side. 

**  But  why  the  monarch,  or  the  monster  name? 

"  All  words  are  feeble,  and  all  colours  tame ! 

"  Hell  and  its  fires  the  fathers's  mind  betray, 

**  And  hags  of  night  the  daughter's  form  pourtray ! 

"  Fame,  too,  these  horrors  has  proclaim'd  to  you, 

**  Tho'  kindly  spar'd  their  knowledge  and  their  view. 

**  But  me  my  sov'reign  had  decreed  to  bear 

**  His  firm  rejection  of  the  tyrant's  pray'r, 

*'  When  both  beholding,  in  their  native  light, 

"  They  glar'd  to  oppress  my  heart,  and  blast  my  sight! 

"  Now  see  the  purport  of  my  speech  unfold; 

"  Be  prompt  in  action,  and  in  friendship  hold. 

**  The  subtle  savage  has  disguis'd  his  course, 

"  Yet,  well  I  know  the  object  of  his  force, — 

**  To  drive  my  royal  master  to  th'  extreme 

♦  'Qf  death  pr  marriage  unless  we  redeem; 


SIORLAMH   AND   CELIDA.  35 

"  Stung  by  revenge,  and  wounded  pride  to  rage 

"  Since  now  thy  daughter's  charms  my  prince  engage. 

"  The  policy  that  long  seduc'd  his  heart, 

"  And  not  the  fondness  of  a  parent's  part, 

"  To  make  the  realms  of  Siorlamh  his  own, 

"  And,  strengthen'd  thus,  o'erturn  each  feebler  throne, 

''  Has  kindled  in  his  soul  this  vengeful  ire, 

"  Which  soon  shall  wrap  him  in  recoiling  fire; 

"  Add  to  my  sov'reign's  force,  oh,  monarch !  thine, 

"  Let  Antrim  with  Tyrconnell's  host  combine ; 

"  Soon  in  his  palace  shall  the  tyrant  feel 

^'  The  arm  of  justice,  and  the  searching  steel; 

"  Soon,  by  the  torch  of  vengeance,  shall  behold 

"  The  false  and  failing  pow'r  of  guilt  and  gold : 

"  And,  from  his  prostrate  throne  in  ruin  hurl'd, 

"  Restore  thy  son  and  free  th'  applauding  world." 

Soon  as  the  venerable  Quillan  hear'd 

His  heart  adopted  what  his  mind  rever'd. 


36  SIORLAMH  AND   CELIDA. 

And,  «  Go"  he  cry'd,  "  oh  !  faithful  Conloch,  go, 

"  With  conquering  arm  confound  the  traitorous  foe; 

"  Wrench  from  his  grasp  the  sceptre  and  the  spoil, 

"  So  ray  Jate  years  shall  bless  thy  glorious  toil; 

"  That  bids  my  lovely  child,  yon  faded  flow'r ! 

"  Revive  to  bloom  beneath  a  happier  hour; 

"  Commands  the  terrors  of  the  storm  to  cease, 

"  And  o'er  my  winter'd  day  diffuses  peace, 

"  Whose  gentle  splendors,  free  from  sorrow's  stain, 

"  Shall  cheer  the  eve  of  my  retiring  reign ! 

**  Once  in  the  martial  helm  I  lov'd  to  shine, 

**  Nor  would  depute  the  task  I  now  resign; 

**  For  arms  were,. then,  my  object  and  delight; 

"  My  fame,  my  fortune,  in  the  dazzling  fight; 

"  Hope,plum'd  with  conquest,  crown'd  my  youthful  day 

"  And  Victory  blaz'd  her  glories  on  my  way ! 

"  Led  by  the  sacred  light  I  reach'd  the  prize, 

*'  And  spread  my  empire  to  the  favoring  skies! 


SIORLAMH   ANirCELIDA.  37 

"  But  these  are  past,  and  time  can  only  give 

"  Those  fainter  joys  that  in  remembrance  live ! 

"  The  nerve,  and  beamy  forehead  of  the  field, 

"  The  foaming  war-horse,  and  the  clanging  shield, 

"  Now  from  my  fond,  but  feeble,  grasp  retire, 

"  And  to  my  frozen  age  refuse  their  fire ! 

"  Yet  ii^ray  breast,  though  weak  and  waste  my  frame, 

"  Still  glows  immortal  an  unconquer'd  flame, 

"  T' emblaze  my  sceptre  and  my  counsels  guide; 

"  And  gild  my  banners  wav'd  on  virtue's  side ! 

"  Then  though  Tyrone  her  hardy  hosts  display, 

"  And  all  O'Nial's  pow'r  oppose  my  way, 

"  My  troops  shall  strive  for  Justice  and  her  laws, 

"  My  kingdom  perish  or  avenge  her  cause !" 

Grateful,  and  glad,  obedient  Conloch  flies. 

And  in  his  task  each  quick  expedient  plies. 

Swift  as  his  word  a  martial  band  appears. 

Gay  in  their  gallant  hearts,  and  glitt'ring  spears  ! 


38  SIORLAMH    AND   CELIDA, 

Ardent  their  gen'rous  valor  to  evince 
For  widow'd  beauty  and  a  captive  prince ! 
Scarce  has  the  Morn  resum'd  his  robe  of  rose 
When  through  the  gate  the  warlike  phalanx  flows  ; 
For  secrecy  and  bold  surprize  array'd, 
No  martial  pomp  their  dread  intent  betray'd. 
Compact  and  firm  they  take  their  silent  way, 
Nor  e'er  their  march  remit  'till  closing  day 
Draws  on  the  mantle  of  concealing  night 
To  clothe  the  stratagem  of  subtle  fight ! 
Now,  dim  in  view,  the  tyrants  tow'rs  arise. 
And  mix  his  massive  palace  with  the  skies. 
Far  on  a  rugged  hill's  extended  height 
The  gloomy  fortress  fills  the  straining  sight  j 
There  long  the  savage  monarch  sat  secure, 
Trampled  the  great  nor  spar'd  the  prostrate  poor  I 
So  on  the  rocky  cliff,  that  climbs  the  storm, 
The  bird  of  ravage  rests  his  fiery  form ; 


SIORLAMH   AND   CELIDA.  39 

Darts  down  his  glance  of  ligjitning  to  convey 
The  fateful  mandate  that  foredooms  his  prey. 
When  in  the  thunder  of  his  talons  die 
The  trembling  victims  of  the  earth  and  sky ! 
Now  in  a  thicket's  friendly  covert  plac'd, 
Conloch,  with  prudence  as  with  valour  grac'd. 
Disposes  round  his  little  band,  and  sees 
Each  soldier  tented  'neath  the  spreading  trees ; 
Sees  through  each  rank  the  due  refreshment  giv'n, 
Then  parts  and  breathes  a  silent  pray'r  to  heav'n ; 
For  some  sad  presage  o'er  his  heart  had  hung 
Portentous  clouds,  and  forms  that  fancy  flung  I 
But  not  for  Conloch,  not  for  Antrim  rose 
The  secret  sigh  he  gave  to  dearer  woes ; 
For  Siorlamh  in  bonds  or  death  he  fear'd. 
The  friend  he  lov'd,  the  monarch  he  rever'd ! 
And  "  Vain,"  he  cried,  "  will  prove  this  gallant  band 
*'  To  trace  the  deep  or  check  the  murderer's  hand, 


40  SIORLAMH    AND   CELIDA. 

"  Yon  walls  upturn  shall  crush  the  tyrant's  head, 
"  But  cannot  give  to  light  the  senseless  dead  1" 
So,  lost  in  melancholy  thought,  he  bent 
His  anxious  steps  where  watch'd,  with  deep  intent^ 
The  wakeful  spies  his  caution  had  retain'd 
To  bear  the  tidings  their  deception  gain'd. 
With  dread  impatience  they  expect  his  voice, 
And  in  the  welcome  signal  soon  rejoice; 
He  comes,  he  hears — and  rage  and  horror  roll 
Their  fiery  floods  o'er  his  distracted  soul ! 
Hears  that  within  the  circle  of  that  hour 
The  fierce  O'Nial  would  display  his  pow'r, 
And,  in  the  presence  of  a  pitying  host, 
Compel  the  man  he  fear'd,  and  lionor'd,  most 
To  wed  his  daughter,  and  the  dowry'd  state. 
Or  meet  an  instant,  and  a  cruel  fate! 
While,  negligent  of  guard,  the  tyrant's  train 
Attend  th'  event,  nor  heed  the  hostile  plain. 


SIORLAMH   AND   CELIDA.  4l 

"  And  must  my  prince  with  life  and  glory  part, 
"  Or  plight,  and  prostrate,  his  aspiring  heart? 
"  Forbid  it  heav'nP  the  gallant  Conloch  cried, 
"  First  shall  this  sword  in  many  a  death  be  dyed, 
"  And  yonder  pile,  enwrapt  in  vengeful  fire, 
«  Prove  ray  murder'd  monarch's  funeral  pyre!" 
Then  forward  flew  his  valiant  force  to  find, . 
And  with  his  words  impart  his  burning  mind. 
The  troops,  with  joy,  he  sees  obedient  wait 
Their  leader's  presence  as  th'  approach  of  fate ; 
Sees  all  inspir'd  confess  his  gen'rous  flame, 
Friendship's  pure  ardor,  and  the  soldier's  fame; 
Shake  from  their  glitt'ring  arms  a  martial  light, 
Assert  their  stations,  and  demand  the  fight ; 
Then  on  the  hostile  tow'rs  destructive  pour 
The  torch's  ruin,  and  the  battle's  roar! 
So,  from  a  spark,  that  on  its  arid  breast 
A  bright,  but  moniAtary,  ray  imprest, 


42  SIORLAMH   AND   CELIOA. 

The  blazing  forest  to  the  wond'ring  eye 
Spreads  its  red  foliage  'ncath  the  torrid  sky; 
The  branching  flames  the  leafy  mass  devour. 
And  waste  the  verdant  honors  of  the  hour ; 
While  wide  and  wild  the  flaky  billows  roll. 
And  torrent  fires  involve  the  kindling  pole! 
Now  rush  the  furious  band  with  instant  fate 
And  rend  in  thunder  the  resisting  gate; 
The  yielding  centinels  before  them  fly, 
And  guide  their  vengeance  with  retreating  cry. 
Sudden  the  clash  of  hurrying  arms  is  heard, 
As  guilt  had  started  from  the  crime  it  fear'd ; 
And  hasty  ranks  arise  to  bar  their  way; 
An  easy  conquest  and  immediate  prey! 
The  fortress  gain'd  the  gallant  Conloch  bent' 
His  ardent  mind  to  crown  the  grand  event. 
The  tyrant  through  the  bleeding  ranks  he  sought, 
CNial's  name  still  echoed  as  h«  fought. 


SIORLAMH   AND   CELIDA.  43 

At  length  the  desperate  chief,  enrag'd,  he  found 

DeaHng  the  dreadful  forms  of  death  around ! 

"  Abandon'd  prince !  thou  hopeless  wretch !"  he  cry'd, 

"  Now  pay  the  forfeit  of  unpitying  pride ! 

"  Fall  in  the  fullness  of  thy  guilty  prime 

"  A  dread  atonement  of  detested  crime  I" 

As  in  the  hunter's  toil  the  tiger  turns, 

All  the  sharp  weapons'  terror  braves,  and  burns, 

Gashes,  witli  horrid  tusk,  the  searching  point. 

And  mad  with  anguish  writhes  each  tortur'd  joint : 

So  tlie  fierce  chief,  by  Conloch's  falchion  prest, 

Feels  the  deep  steel  within  his  frantic  breast. 

Prone  in  the  dust  his  massive  arms  resound, 

And  their  rude  clangor  shakes  the  trembling  ground! 

Yet,  yet,  untam'd  he  pours  his  parting  breath 

In  curses,  rushing  with  the  tide  of  death, 

And  "  see,"  he  cries,  "  though  low,  and  scorn'd  by  yoa, 

"  Vanqnish'd  I  conquer,  fall'a  I  triumph  tool 


44  STORLAMU   AND  CELIDA. 

**  Behold,  vain  youth !  and,  blasted  with  the  sigh^ 
**  Feast  my  sad  eyes,  e'er  yet  they  close  in  night !" 
He  ceas'd,  and,  guided  by  his  dying  look, 
While  the  last  pang  his  tortur'd  bosom  shook, 
Conloch  beheld,  oh,  melancholy  view  ! 
Dire,  and  afflicting,  to  a  heart  so  true ! 
The  friend  belov'd,  the  monarch  ever  kind, 
Expos'd,  suspended  in  the  bleaching  wind  ! 
"  Ob,  God  1  is  this  the  vile,  the  painful  fate? 
"  Th'  inglorious  sufF'ring  of  the  good  and  great ! 
"  Haste,  haste,  my  friends,  relieve  th'  expiring  king, 
**  Oh,  haste !  and  ev'ry  healing  succour  bring !" 
Swift  as  his  word  they  scale  tho  scaffold's  top, 
And,  gently,  down  the  lifeless  body  drop. 
Cold  was  that  heart  that,  once,  so  proudly  beat; 
Check'd  all  its  fire,  and  fled  its  vital  heat ! 
Distorted  ev'ry  graceful  limb  that  bore 
The  round  and  polish  youth  bestow'd  before ; 


SIORLAMH   AND    CELIDA.  45 

And  fix'd  that  eye  that  once,  with  varying  ray, 
Gave  love,  and  war,  a  bright  divided  sway ! 
Through  all  the  host  the  plaints  of  sorrow  flow, 
And  gen'rotis  tears  confess  the  soldier's  woe ! 
While  to  the  dead  this  tender  tribute  pays 
The  mournful  meed  of  unpretending  praise, 
In  mute  despair,  dumb  agony  of  grief, 
Conloch  deplores  his  dear  departed  chief; 
Bends  on  the  alter'd  corse  his  tearless  eye. 
And,  frequent,  heaves  the  long  convulsix'C  sigh ! 
Arous'd,  at  length,  he  leaves  his  sorrowing  trance. 
And  bids  the  pensive  train  in  form  advance. 
On  spears  transvers'd,  a  martial  bed !  they  bore 
The  gallant  youth  that  must  awake  no  more, 
No  more  arise,  in  pomp  of  warlike  pride, 
Fame  in  his  van,  and  Vict'ry  at  his  side  ! 
Now  Fame  can  only  strew  this  plaintive  verse. 
And  Vict'ry  wreathe  her  laurels  o'er  his  hearse ! 


4,6  SfORLAMH   AND   CELIDA. 

But  now  the  shining  spoil,  and  captive  host, 
DestinM  to  sooth  the  royal  hero's  ghost. 
Collected  round  the  warrior's  bosom  cheer. 
Avenge,  at  once,  and  grace  the  timeless  bier. 
Selected  by  comnriand,  then,  swiftly,  came 
A  band  to  spread  th'  esterminating  flame; 
Root  from  the  land  each  vestige  of  the  pow'r 
That  wrought  the  horrors  of  that  hateful  hour; 
And,  e'er  its  expiated  crimes  expire. 
Give  love  and  vengeance  all  their  fullest  fire  ! 
The  scatter'd  brands  are  toss'd,  the  kindling  pile 
And  smoaking  ruins  all  the  night  defile ; 
While  as  the  spiry  volumes  round  revolve. 
And  the  high  heav'ns  in  murky  flames  dissolve, 
Amid  this  incense  at  Siorlamh's  tomb ! 
The  shrieks  of  anguish  pierce  the  crimson'd  gloom; 
When,  rushing  from  the  dread  and  deep'ning  blaze, 
The  wretched  Mora  shocks  the  soldiers  gaze! 


SIORLAMH   AND   CELIDA.  47 

She,  when  the  fires  the  falling  roofs  devour, 
Flies  from  her  refuge  in  a  lonely  tow'r. 
That  first  she  sought  when  fierce  the  din  of  arms 
Peal'd  through  the  castle  courts  its  loud  alarms ; 
But  flies  in  vain !  for,  e'er  she  reach'd  the  field, 
Tempting  a  passage,  lo !  the  porches  yield ! 
The  burning  masses  part,  and,  gulph'd  in  flame, 
The  monstrous  princess  buries  all  her  ^harne ! 
The  work  of  rage  and  ruin  thu»  complete. 
This  death  unsought,  the  sated  troops  retreat. 
The  bugle's  full,  and  far-resounding  note 
Has  caird  the  band  as  wide  its  echoes  float : 
The  scattered  ranks  the  well-known  sound  obey 
And  shine  immediate  in  compact  array; 
Then,  form'd  in  long  procession,  silent  go, 
A  host  of  triumph,  and  a  train  of  woe! 
Conloch,  meanwhile,  by  sorrow's  load  opprest, 
Yet  shares  with  other's  grief  his  pensive  breast; 


4S  SIORLAMH    AND   CELIDA. 

Thinks  on  lost  Celida,  too  wretched  maid ! 
By  hapless  love,  and  tyrant  hate  betray'd; 
Designs,  e'er  rumour  opes  her  thousand  gates. 
To  check  the  story  of  th'  infuriate  fates, 
And  bids  a  guarded  messenger  depart. 
Lest  Fame,  unfeeling,  pierce  the  princess'  heart. 
But,  generous  Conloch!  vain  thy  tender  care,^ 
Fruitless  to  Save,  and  impotent  to  spare ! 
For,  now,  on  pinions  that  outstrip  the  wind,. 
Report  has  pass'd  through  ev'ry  eager  mind. 
The  fugitives  of  fall'n  O'Nial's  pow'r 
Spread  with  their  fears  the  ravage  of  the  hour; 
And,  thus,  th'  accumulating  horrors  roll 
On  th'  ear  of  Celida  and  sink  her  soul. 
High  on  a  tow'r  that  soars  above  the  wave. 
Whose  rocky  base  the  restless  waters  lave. 
Wild  as  those  billows  her  fix'd  eyes  survey 
Since  first  they  bore  her  youthful  love  away; 


SIORLAMH   AND    CELIDA.  49 

With  looks  despairing  the  jiale  maiden  stood, 
And  mix'd  her  tear-drops  with  the  briny  flood. 
Vain  every  hope  to  draw  her  from  the  place. 
The  scene,  the  sorrow  all  her  hours  embrace ; 
And  vain  her  aged  father's  pray'rs  implore 
That  peace  for  her  that  can  return  no  more ! 
Starting,  she  hears  the  clam'rous  cry  of  woe 
That  bursts  ungovern'd  from  the  train  below, 
Soon  as  'twas  known  young  Siorlamh  in  death 
Had  still'd  his  gallant  heart,  and  gracious  breath ; — 
Aghast  she  listens,  while  the  sounds  unfold 
The  tale  her  boding  fancy  often  told. 
With  thoughts  that  tore  th'  agonizing  fair. 
The  cureless  pangs  of  desolate  despair ! 
She,  wildly,  cry'd,  with  hopeless  eye,  to  heav'n : 
"  Why  to  this  fatal  deed  of  horrof  driv'n! 
"  Why  must  I  fall,  thus  forc'd  from  thee  adoFd ! 
"  My  life,  my  Siorlamh,  my  murder'd  lord ! 


50  SIORLAMH    AND   CELIDA. 

"  Form'd  to  delight,  to  captivate,  command, 
"  To  win  the  heart,  or  sway  a  mighty  land ! 
"  Inwove  with  thee,  my  being's  bond  and  spell ! 
"  I  breath'd  in  paradise,  now  sink  to  hell ! 
"  Ah!  wretched  man!  my  king,  my  father!  see 
"  Thy  throne,  thy  arms,  the  world  a  waste  to  me- 
"  Nor  pride  nor  joy  again  this  heart  can  prove, 
"  My  hope,  my  happiness,  my  empire — love ! 
"  All,  all,  with  Siorlamh  forsook  my  breast, 
■**  And  now,  forlorn,  [  follow  him  to  rest!" 
Devote  and  dauntless,  then,  from  th'  airy  steep 
She  flew,  and  sunk  beneath  the  whelming  deep: 
So  sets  the  star  of  Eve  in  lucid  glow, 
And  blends  its  beauties  with  the  wave  below ! 
The  hapless  father  flies — but  late  to  save 
His  lovely  daughter  from  a  timeless  grave ! 
Ra^ng  and  long  he  strives,  in  anguish  wild. 
O'er  the  dread  gulph  to  clasp  again  his  child. 


SIORLAMH   AND   CELIDA.  SI 

Frantic,  he  raves,  he  rends  his  hoary  hair, 
And  spreads  his  eager  arms  to  empty  air ; 
'Till  faint  at  length,  he  falls  amid  his  train, 
Who  weep  his  sorrows  and  assuage  his  pain ; 
Bear  him  within,  his  shatter'd  frame  restore, 
And  offer  comfort  he  can  know  no  more ! 


THE 


REMAINS 


ALBERT  AND  ALTALVAN, 
4-c. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


1  HE  few  following  poems  are  supposed  to  have  been  writ' 
ten  by  real  persons,  and  were  inspired  by  the  wishes  and  me- 
mory of  a  departed,  and  the  object  of  a  forfeited,  love.  Albert 
and  Altalvan,  born  in  Ireland,  but  of  English  extraction^ 
flourished  in  the  fifteenth  century.  An  equality  of  circum^ 
stances,  for  both  were  noble,  a  common  education,  and,  above 
all,  a  congeniality  of  temper,  produced  a  friendship,  which 
no  time,  reverse  of  prosperity,  or  separation  of  interests, 
could  deaden  or  destroy.  At  the  age  of  eighteen  they  were 
removed  from  the  academy  to  the  camp,  where  the  rewards 
of  war  soon  followed  the  honors  that  learning  had  conferred 
before.  To  these  gifted  and  generous  youths  misfortune 
arose  in  a  quarter  the  most  brilliant,  and,  seemingly,  the 
most  secure.  After  a  service  of  three  years  expended  in  the 
contest  between  Henry  and  Charles  for  the  crown  (f  France, 
when  the  triumphs  of  the  latter  had  baffled  the  ambition  of 
the  former,  and  rendered  impracticable  the  farther  and  fruit' 
less  effusion  of  English  blood  and  treasure,  Albert  returned 


ADVERTISEMENT. 

to  England,  while  Altalvan  remained  in  France.  There  at" 
traded  by  the  charms  of  Zelinda,  daughter  of  an  illustrious 
English  Baron,  Albert  very  sincerely  loved.  The  tie  which, 
from  a  perfect  correspondence  of  circumstances,  nature  her- 
self seemed  to  have  formed  for  the  lovers,  was  prepared  to 
unite  them  for  ever,  when  a  cruel  disease  seized  on  the  beau- 
teous  Zelinda.  She  fell  in  the  arms  of  her  family  and  lover, 
dumb  with  astonishment  and  dismay  at  the  sudden  and  irre- 
trievable ruin.  With  slow  and  melancholy  steps  Albert  de- 
parted from  a  place  where  hope  and  pleasure  lay  buried  with 
their  object.  Persuaded  to  try  Ike  relief  of  travel,  he  re- 
turned, after  an  interval,  to  his  native  country;  impressed 
with  the  sad  conviction,  that  although  the  body  may  pass 
from  clime  to  clime,  and  experience  change,  the  sorrowed 
heart  remains  untravelled.  Then,  concealing  his  purpose 
from  his  friends,  he  reached  the  monastery  of  Si.  Wolstan, 
in  tlie  province  of  Leinster,  whose  sequestered  beauty  he  had 
before  seen  and  admired;  and  at  the  age  of  twenty-Jive  made 
the  awful  vows  which  separated  him  for  ever  from  all  his 
former  habits  and  hopes,  and,  dropping  an  impenetrable  veil 
between  him  and  the  world,  excluded  all  the  joys  of  the  pre- 
sent but  left  tlie  consolations  of  the  future.  Having  passed 
a  year  in  this  new  scene  of  duty,  a  deputation  from  his  con- 
Tent  was  appointed  to  meet  the  monks  of  a  religious  house 
tf  the  same  order  in  the  neighbourhood.  He  was  included 
in  the  number  tfiat  composed  the  embassy.    During  the  cere- 


ADVERTISEMENT. 

mony  of  the  festival  they  had  assembled  to  commemorate  Al- 
bert recognised,  with  astonishment,  in  the  person  of  a  friar 
the  features  of  Altalvan,  The  sorrow  and  curiosity  he  had 
conceived  at  such  a  sight  were  repressed  with  difficulty  until 
the  conclusion  of  the  rites  allowed  him  to  give  and  receive  a 
mutual  explanation.  Young,  ardent,  unsuspicious,  Altai- 
van,  while  in  France,  was  captivated  by  a  beautiful  coquette, 
who  abused  the  conquest  she  secured :  for,  near  the  day  ap- 
pointed for  their  nuptials,  she  resigned  her  youthful  admirer, 
gay  in  the  bloom  of  life  and  love,  for  debilitated  age  and 
shadowy  rank,  with  an  offer  of  marriage  it  was  mockery  to 
mention.  Smitten  with  disgust  and  despair  at  this  cruel 
discovery,  Altalvan  hastened  to  his  native  shores  to  seek  se- 
elusion  from  a  world  that  to  him  had  lost  every  charm  ;  and 
judging,  naturally,  though  with  little  justice,  of  all  man- 
kind by  the  standard  of  one  beloved  object,  precipitately  cast 
his  youth  and  hopes  into  a  monastery.  Astonished  at  this 
coincidence  of  misery,  these  two  noble  and  ill-fated  friends 
parted  under  the  consolations  of  christian  philosophy,  the 
reflection  from  the  past,  and  the  prospect  of  a  brighter  fu- 
ture; these  were  beyond  the  reach  of  fortune,  and  acquired 
to  their  possessors  that  felicity  over  which  she  holds  no  con- 
troul !  About  this  period  they  interchanged  the  expressions 
of  thdr  feelings  in  some  pieces  composed  on  the  subjects  of 
their  mutual  misfortunes,  of  which  the  following  poems  at- 
tempt a  representation.     Neither  attained  to  any  consider- 


ADVERTISEMENT. 

ebte  age,  and  their  names  were  repeated  with  a  melancholy 
pleasure  by  the  inhabitants  of  the  surrounding  country  long 
after  the  walls  that  circumscribed  their  lives,  and  contained 
their  ashes,  had  mouldered  into  dust. 

In  the  compositions  founded  on  this  story  the  object  has 
been  to  describe  the  influence  of  lave  and  religion  upon  minds 
susceptible  of  finer  feelings,  and  in  a  country  where  those 
nobler  passions  seem  once  to  have  formed  their  sacred  union 
and  fixed  their  favorite  residence.  The  remains  of  the 
poetry  and  history  of  Ireland  prove  this  in  every  passage; 
and  if  it  be  objected  that  the  following  lines  are  melancholy, 
let  it  be  remembered  such  generally  were  t/ie  strains  and 
such  the  fate  of  my  country  ! 


THE 

REMAINS 

OF 

ALBERT  AND  ALTALVAN, 


ALBERT  TO  ZELINDA. 
Oh  !  for  that  magic  often  told. 
In  strains  inspir'd,  that  rul'd  of  old. 
And  from  the  blended  signs  of  heav'n 
Declar'd  what  doom  to  man  was  giv'n ! 
Then  wily  hope  could  ne'er  betray 
The  follower  of  her  faithless  ray; 
Nor  pausing  Doubt,  nor  pale  Desire, 
Wasted  by  slow  consuming  fire, 


60  THE   REMAINS  OF 

Still,  trembling,  wait  on  beauty's  eye 

To  crown  the  wish,  or  wake  the  sigh ; 

But  bliss  forbidden  or  bestow'd 

At  once,  by  fate,  no  cares  corrode ! 

Yet,  since  that  art  with  ages  fell, 

The  maid's  kind  pity  shall  foretell ; 

And  when  my  ardent  %  ow  she  hears 

Give  it  to  triumph  or  to  tears! 

The  circlet  from  Zelinda's  arm 

I  stole,  unconscious  of  its  charm ; 

But  as  I  held  it  to  my  breast 

It  soon  the  latent  spell  confess'd ; 

Through  all  my  veins  th'  enchantment  ran 

More  as  I  prest  the  talisman ! 

Ah !  hapless  youth !  what  demon  bold 

Urg'd  thy  weak  hand  to  grasp  at  gold  ? 

The  lawless  deed,  in  anguish  deep, 

Love,  worse  than  conscience,  wakes  to  weep ! 


ALBERT    AND    ATLALVAN,  &C.  6l 

Hard !  that  of  ills  still  wept  in  vain, 
'Mid  joy  we  find  severest  pain ; 
And,  sinking  upon  beds  of  rose, 
Feel  the  fierce  snake  that  stings  repose  ! 
My  thoughtless  youth,  unharm'd  and  free, 
Sported  round  life's  luxuriant  tree, 
Scatter'd  the  sweets,  with  sportive  wing, 
A  joyous,  gaudy,  guiltless  thing! 
And  reveil'd  in  the  blushing  feast 
That  teem'd  with  all  the  glowing  east, 
'Till  one  delirious  charm  betray'd, 
And  drove  me  fainting  to  the  shade! 
Yet  that  delirious  charm  I  prize, 
'Twas  drawn,  Zelinda,  from  thine  eyes. 
Ah !  fiercer  than  the  raging  sky, 
When  Sirius  flames  o'er  Nature's  sigh^ 
Wilt  thou  no  drop  from  pity's  store 
On  my  consuming  bosom  pour? 


62  THB  REMAINS  OF 

And,  deaf  to  ev'ry  just  appeal, 

The  wound  thou  gav'st  refuse  to  heal  ? 

Friendship !  in  thy  confiding  charm 

I  thought  myself  remov'd  from  harm ; 

But  soon  the  fair  delusion  fled. 

Love  rearing  his  triumphant  head  ! 

The  mind  I  simply,  once,  admir'd 

Now  comes  with  eyes  and  lips  conspir'd ; 

Comes  to  my  soul,  and  lords  it  there 

With  dear  desire,  and  longing  care. 

The  breast  I  prais'd  as  feeling's  throne 

I  wish  to  beat  for  me  alone ; 

The  sighs  that  swell,  the  tears  that  shine, 

For  others'  woes,  I  would  were  mine; 

When  that  fair  hand  a  bounty  gives 

I  envy  sorrow  that  receives ; 

But  when  those  angel  arms  enfold 

The  infant  fresh  from  nature's  mould. 


ALBERT   AND  ALTALVAN,  &:c.  63 

Incase  him  in  that  ivory  breast, 
Where,  with  Arabia's  breath  opprest, 
The  little  wanton  frequent  sips 
Distilling  pleasures  from  thy  lips, 
And,  conscious,  warming  with  the  bliss, 
Keenly  redoubles  every  kiss, 
I  would  resign  the  boast  of  men, 
Return  and  be  a  child  again  ! 
And  shall,  oh  !  maid,  divinely  fair ! 
Love  only  prove  a  stranger  there. 
Where  every  virtue  finds  a  place 
To  form  the  family  of  grace  ? 
Shall  kindness,  still,  to  me  be  pride, 
Kindness  that  charms  the  world  beside  ? 
And  this  though  lov'd  Zelinda  knows 
The  vow  that  from  affection  flows. 
Bright  essence  of  the  genuine  day ! 
Strong  nature's  unremitting  ray! 


64  THE   REMAINS   OF 

Needs  no  false  flame  of  borrow'd  force 

From  sickly  wealth's  adulterate  source; 

But  still  its  native  pleasure  brings 

To  bless  the  cot  as  hall  of  kings ! 

Zelinda,  soon  will  ocean's  wave 

Between  our  forms  divided  rave; 

Yet  love  shall  live :  Though  crouding  years 

And  distant  climes  may  hide  my  tears. 

False  as  my  fate  though  Memory,  too, 

May  bear  me  ever  from  thy  view. 

And  dull  oblivion's  blot  remove 

Each  well  known  vestige  of  my  love; 

Yet  my  fond  heart  will  follow  thine, 

A  pilgrim  to  the  ruin'd  shrine ! 

Devote  in  Feeling's  sacred  fane, 

Though  hope  be  dead  and  passion  vain ! 

For  still  my  solitary  joy 

Clings  to  the  faith  whose  charms  destroy; 


ALBERT   AND   ALTALVAN,  &C. 

■Ev'n  as  the  |Jersecuted  priest  adores 
More  fervent  yet,  on  heathen  shores, 
Firm,  blessing  with  his  parting  breath 
That  cross  from  which  he  sinks  to  death ! 
'Mid  woman's  charms^  youth's  roseat  day, 
Ambition's  call,  and  Time's  decay; 
'Mid  every  scene  of  sense  to  come. 
My  soul  will  seek  its  only  home—- 
Thy  love;  that  haven  still  in  view, 
Where  Hope  shall  rest  or  wreck  near  you! 
But  if  disdain  thy  bosom  steel, 
Oh !  yet  if  it  refuse  to  feel ; 
As  some  proud  cliff  that  lifts  its  brow, 
Enwrapt  in  ever-during  snow, 
Whose  frozen  frowns  forbid  the  guide 
To  dare  the  dangers  of  its  side. 
Though  in  its  breast  the  beams  of  day 
Have  wak'd  the  diamond's  ripen'd  ray; 

3P 


65  THE  REMAINS  OF 

If,  doomed  to  disregarded  sighs, 
This  first,  and  latest,  passion  dies. 
The  ravish'd  string  demand  again. 
And  give  my  weeping  hours  to  pain; 
How  keen,  how  deep !  but  take  suspence 
From  strain'd,  expectant,  aching  sense ! 


ALBERT   AND   ALTALVAN,  &C.  $7 


ALBERT  TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  ZELINDA. 


YE  solitudes,  enshrin'd  in  darker  day ! 
Where  nature's  charms,  delightless,  drop  away; 
Where  Melancholy  fills  the  vocal  vale, 
And  sighs  a  sadder  pleasure  in  the  gale  ! 

Ye  awful  shades !  whose  holy  bowers  contain 
The  time-struck  honors  of  the  sainted  fane; 
Where  mute  Devotion,  through  each  silent  round, 
Keeps  her  pale  vigil  o'er  the  hallow'd  ground ! 

How  sweet  your  walks !  when  ev'ning  shadows  spread 
Their  soft  concealment  round  the  sufferer's  head. 
And  the  gay  orb,  like  radiant  hope,  withdrawn> 
Leaves  not  a  light  upon  the  dewy  lawn ! 


68  THE  HEMAINS   OF 

For  scene?,  like  these,  dissolve  the  world's  controiil, 
Draw  back  to  peace  th'  alienated  soul, 
Through  reason's  glass  display  the  good  that's  giv'ii, 
Shorn  of  unreal  rays,  and  fix'd  in  heav'n ! 

But  when  the:  breast,  with  gen'rous  passion  fir'd, 
To  truth  devotes  the  flame  that  love  inspir'd ; 
With  sanction'd  hope  permitted  pleasure  burns. 
No  wrong  that  rapture's  tide  to  torture  turns; 

When  soul  with  soul,  in  bliss  entrancing,  blends, 
And  balm  from  Heav'n  on  every  sense  descends, 
Should  fell  Disease  his  viperous  ruin  breathe 
On  Hymen's  chaplet,  and  consume  the  wreath  j 

Ofa !  where  the  solitude  can  then  restore  ? 
Or  scenes  that  reconciling  peace  shall  pour? 
What  charm  to  heal  the  lieart  that's  rent  in  twain? 
What  sapient  bower  for  the  maddening  brain? 


ALBERT  AND   ALT ALV AN,  &C.  60 

Wliat  bliss  for  him,  thus  stript  of  all,  rew^uDS, 
Who,  dumb  with  horror,  weeps  his  wasted  plains? 
Oh!  dire  Adversity !  is  this  my  lot? 
Why  did  thy  bolts  consume  that  cultur'd  spot  ? 

Moors  leafless,  wide  and  wild,  were  spread  around) 
Yet  in  that  garden  were  thy  lightnings  found — 
That,  only,  ravag'd  by  the  ruthless  storm — 
That  bed  of  flowers  in  every  beauty  waim ! 

Nor  Petrarch's  plaintive  reed,  nor  Orpheus'  lyre 
Knew  woes,  like  mine,  their  sorrows  to  inspirfi' 
The  lovely  Laura  to  my  beauteous  maid, 
And  bright  Eurydice,  on  fancy  fade ! 

Adieu,  ye  groVes,  ah!  once,  a  blissful  scene! 
Now  lost  your  music,  and  no  longer  green ; 
Decay'd  the  laughing  light,  and  fragrant  air, 
A  desert  all,  nor  ray  nor  roses  there ! 


70  THB  RBMAINS  OF 

To  me  a  desert  Nature's  ample  round, 
Save  yon  sweet  sod  that  heaves  the  hallow'd  ground ; 
There  memory  draws  a  Seraph  from  the  skies, 
And  bids,  again,  the  buried  bliss  arise  ! 

Far  from  the  frolic  step,  on  that  still  bed, 

In  visions  wrapt,  I  rest  my  wearied  head. 

And  lose,  entranc'd,  the  trembling  Passions'  strife. 

Till  wak'd  to  woe  by  some  sad  start  of  life. 

Hark!  how  the  dreary  blast  flings  round  the  knell! 
Is  this  the  nuptial  song's  melodious  swell  ? 
Is  this  the  bridal-couch — this  dark,  cold',  tomb? 
That  faded  face — is  tliat  love's  rip'ning  bloom  ? 

Be  dim  my  eyes,  and  clos'd  my  shuddering  ears— 
No  sense  survive  or  dissipate  in  tears ; 
Ye  horrors !  hence,  ere  Reason  drop  the  rein. 
And  let  oblivion's  torpor  steep  my  brain ! 


ALBERT  AND  ALTALVAN,  &C.  71 

Adieu !  ye  calm  retreats,  ye  conscious  bowers ! 
Ye  roseat  paths  where  danc'd  the  happier  hours ! 
Zelinda  fled,  and  every  charm  withdrawn, 
Untimely  winter  chills  the  blushing  lawn ! 

Hush'd  are  the  cords  that  wove  their  soft  controul, 
Or  bade  the  glowing  tide  of  rapture  roll. 
With  all  the  eloquence  of  music  warm'd. 
And  in  resistless  power  the  passions  storra'd ! 

Where  now  ye  strains?  gone  on  the  trackless  wind- 
Fled  with  the  rushing  soul,  the  melting  mind! 
Ye,  dear  dependants  on  a  lovely  hand ! 
Fell  with  your  queen,  and  left  a  tuneless  land. 

What  now  remains?  alas !  in  niin  hurl'd! 
The  horrid  silence  of  a  wasted  world ! 
Adieu,  ye  hopes,  ye  emulous  desires ! 
Ambition,  Pleasure,  Praise !  dim,  perish'd  fires ! 


72  THE  REMAINS  OP  ' 

And  thou,  Belinda,  oh !  a  long  adieu ! 
Yet  will  my  straining  eyes  thy  form  pursue; 
And,  ranging  far  among  the  fields  of  light. 
Seize  it,  amid  angelic  beauties,  bright ! 

This  sorrow'd  joy  remorseless  Death  shall  spare. 
This  shadowy  bliss  and  unsubstantial  care, — 
JBenignant  Fancy  shall  reverse  thy  doom, 
Restore  thy  smiles  and  animate  the  tomb ! 

Be  mine,  oh !  friendly,  yet  too  faithless,  ray ! 
Last  gleam  that  lingers  near  departed  day  ! 
Be  mine  for  radiance  that  can  ne'er  return. 
And  faintly  glow  upon  the  paly  urn ! 


ALBERT   AND    ALTALVAN,  &C.  73 

JLTALVAN  TO  CLORAi 

A    FRAGMENT. 


OH!  seek  with  me  the  ferthest  glade 
Where  Jove  on  rural  couch  shall  glow, 

And  bowers  detam,  in  wreathy  shado, 
The  hasty  blisg  that  pantis  w  go. 

There  long  will  laugh  the  lingering  day 
Till  ev'ning's  soberer  beam  be  giv'n; 

Then,  gently  melting  in  the  ray. 
Thy  pulse  shall  steal  its  course  to  heav'n ! 

And  though,  forbid  to  follow  there, 

Less  pure,  I  find  another  fate, 
Still,  grateful  for  a  mortal's  share, 

I'll  bless  its  fond,  though  fleeting,  dale. 


74  THE  REMAINS  OF 

But  why  disclose  that  distant  hour 
Now,  when  enkindling  hope  aspires? 

lit  by  thy  smiles,  when  Passion's  pow'r 
Has  promised  all  his  present  fires? 

For  sure  that  eye's  resplendent  ray, 
The  faithful  star  that  guides  to  joy, 

Must  shine  to  bless,  and  not  betray — 
Delight  with  love,  and  not  destroy! 


ALBERT   AND   AL.TALVAN,  &C.  75 

ALTALVAN  TO  CLORA, 

ON   HIS  KETiaiNG   INTO   A   MONASTERY. 


IN  these  dread  shades  where  sad  the  wasting  years 
Weep  their  pale  progress  in  devoted  tears ; 
Where  death-like  shadows  frown  eternal  gloom 
O'er  the  dim  aisles  that  lengthen  to  the  tomb; 
And  holy  horrors  all  the  senses  bind, 
Prompt  the  low  sigh,  and  awe  the  throbbing  mind ! 
Ere  yet  oblivion  shroud  Altalvan's  name, 
And  the  dark  cloister  close  upon  his  fame. 
One  tide  of  life,  one  pulse  of  love  may  flow, 
Gush  o'er  his  heart,  and  then  forget  to  glow.' 

Ah!  think,  too  lovely,  too  injurious,  fair! 

How  bright  the  hopes  you  won  me  once  to  share; 


7fi  THE   REMAINS  OF 

How,  fond  and  faithless,  with  a  magic  hand. 
You  rais'd  the  scene,  and  blest  the  smiling  land; 
Think  how  secure  'mid  Granville's  bowers  I  lay, 
And  hail'd  with  rapture  each  returning  day ! 
How  light  and  fragrance  fill'd  those  happy  skies, 
Breath'd  from  thy  lips,  and  kindled  by  thine  eyes ! 
When,  lo!  th'  invader  rush'd  upon  my  rest, 
And  stab'd  th*  unconscious, the  confiding  guest! 
By  thee,  lov'd  traitress !  thee — the  wretch  is  led 
To  steal  the  pleasures  of  a  perjur'd  bed. 
And  stain  that  bosom,  once,  like  angel's  bright, 
Fair  as  their  heav'n,  and  dearer  than  its  light ! 
Was  this,  lost  Clora !  this — a  kind  return, 
Meet  for  that  ardent  breast  you  taught  to  burn? 
This,  this,  the  fruit  Altalvan's  labors  prove, 
The  dust  of  avarice  for  the  bloom  of  love? 
Why,  fatal  fair !  to  honor  pomp  oppose. 
And  yield  to  pride  what  love  to  reason  owes? 


ALBERT    AND   ALTALVAN,  &C.  7t 

Why  bend  thy  wish  to  dotard,  dull,  desire — 

A  cold,  and  dim,  imaginary  fire? 

Why  nature's  heat  destroy  in  age's  arms, 

Quench  her  pure  Bame,  and  waste  her  happiest  charms? 

Nor  gems,  nor  gold,  my  offerings,  nymph,  were  small, 

For  love,  and  tenderness,  compos'd  'em  all : 

A  sordid  soul  their  value  never  knew — 

Oh !  heav'n !  and  does  that  soul  reside  with  you? 

Go,  then,  and  deck  thee  with  the  diamond's  blaze. 

Dazzle  the  croud,  and  be  the  public  gaze; 

Let  me,  unseen,  derive  a  fainter  day 

From  the  mild  radiance  of  the  unfashion'd  ray; 

That  beam  of  Truth  shall,  with  benignant  glow, 

Around  my  couch  serener  lustre  throw; 

Gild  the  pale  eve  with  peace  deny'd  the  morn, 

And  wake  the  visions  of  a  world  unborn; 

Hush'd  every  sorrow  that  my  fate  combin'd — 

The  desolated  breast,  and  broken  mind; 


78  THE  HEMAINS  OF 

Clos'd  the  dread  wounds  unfeeling  woman  gave, 
And  smoothed  my  passage  to  an  early  grave, 
Where  busy  memory  shall  with  life  remove, 
And,  oh !  ev'n  thee  efface  too  fatal  Love ! 
Ah !  thou,  fond  idol  of  the  generous  heart ! 
Why  steep  in  venom  thine  ethereal  dart? 
Oh !  why  should  Clora  love,  and  then  disclaim 
Passion's  full  bliss  for  Splendor's  empty  name? 
For  transient  splendor,  minion  of  the  hour, 
A  faithless  meteor,  and  a  pageant  pow'r ! 
Why  for  the  genial  bed,  and  Hymen's  bloom 
Glare  the  pale  phantoms  of  th'  unfruitful  tomb? 
If  in  thy  bosom  yet  reflection  live. 
Once,  Clora,  hear  it,  and,  though  late,  believe. 
Say  can  the  gilded  hall,  the  gorgeous  train. 
The  midnight  revel  or  melodious  strain. 
That  sweet  and  pleasurable  sense  impart. 
Which  smiles  for  ever  in  the  mutual  heart; 


ALBEKT  AND  ALTALVAN,  &C,  79 

Which  shines  serenely  with  its  native  beam, 
Nor  asks  from  fortune's  blaze  a  borrowed  gleam  ? 
Can  riots  of  the  fierce,  fantastic,  hour 
Rival  the  blessings  of  the  tranquil  bow'r. 
Where  soul  to  soul  in  equal  measure  beats. 
And  silent  transports  fill  the  close  retreats; 
Where  Friendship  fixes  every  fleet  desire, 
And  Love  arrests  his  evanescent  fire? 

Ye,  peaceful  pleasures  of  delighted  sense ! 
Joys  that  ne'er  taste  of  tumult  or  oflfence ! 
Ye  wak'd  the  wishes  of  a  happier  time, 
And  fiird  the  haven  of  a  cloudless  clime; 
Bade  my  calm  day  threugh  softer  seasons  flpw, 
And  bliss  no  change  along  the  current  know  ! 
But  woman  scorn'd  these  humbler  sweets  to  share, 
The  height  her  happiness,  her  temple  there; 
Through  stormy  scenes  she  drives  her  daring  course. 
And  starts  from  Nature  with  a  fearless  force^ 


80  THE  EKMAINS   OF 

Adieu,  the  modest  slmde,  the  sylvan  seat ! 
The  conscious  grove,  and  long  endear'd  retreat! 
Adieu,  the  sacred  mysteries  of  love ! 
Woman  disdains  a  woraan's-joys  to  prove; 
The  throb  of  Pleasure,  all  her  richest  tears, 
Congeal'd  and  fetter'd  in  the  frost  of  years; 
Youth's  fragrance  wasted  upon  wilds  of  snow, 
And  pale  the  rose  of  Hope  on  Winter's  brow ! 

Deluded  fair!  with  Love  one  hour  that  glows, 
And  gives  the  banquet  he  alone  bestows, 
While  transport  gushes  from  th*  expanding  soul, 
And  blended  feelings  harmonize  the  whole, 
Leaves  years  of  wealth  unenvied  pride  t'  impart, 
Whose  cold,  unjoyous,  rays  ne'er  warm  the  heart; 
Whose  very  splendors  settle  into  shame 
T'  emblaze,  and  brand,  its  victim's  guilty  name ! 
Yet,  yet,  a  Vestal  once,  and  free  from  stain, 
Bow'd  in  that  idola'  prostituted  fane! 


ALBERf  AifJi  AttAtVAN,  Sc<ii  8l 

Shall  generdus  scorn,  theii,  bid  thes6  sorrows  end, 
And  pride  indignant  raise  whom  injuries  bend? 
Shall  I  tear  her,  for  ever,  from  my  heart 
Who  stoop'd  to  play  deception's  faithless  part? 
Can  it  be  thus? — no;  lost,  lamented  fair! 
My  love  was  not  th'  electric  spark  of  air"; 
That  flame  arose  from  passion's  purest  ray, 
Fed  by  the  flowing  soul  in  streams  of  day! 
No  wrong  can  quench,  no  timef  consume  its  pow'r,- 
It  glows  immortal  through  the  wasteful  hour ; 
Yet  fires  no  vengeance  for  a  mistress  fled, 
Nor  wakes  reproach  but  in  the  tears  I  shed ! 

For  thee  may  Fortune  ffing  her  rbseat  rays, 
And  pour  her  pleasures  in  unclouded  days; 
May  mild  Content  life's  turbid  scenes  becalm. 
Thy  waking  rapture,  and  thy  sluniiber  balm! 
Oh !  still  may  mirth,  and  tousic's  voice  be  thine^ 
While  the  sad  silence  of  the  grave  is  mine ! 
o 


dg  THE   SEMAINS   OF 

But  Heav'p's  full  glory  opens  on  my  view. 
And  Bay  rapt  soul  resigns  the  world  in  you; 
The  priest  demands  the  victim  of  his  god. 
And  bymas  invite  me  to  his  blest  abodel 
The  fires  of  sacrifice  around  me  glow. 
Devoting  pray'rs  in  full  hosannahs  flow — 
The  cowl  is  rais'd  to  shioud  my  votive  head, 
And  rites  array'd  to  place  me  with  the  dead ! 
Ah  !  how  unlilte  those  rites  I  once  desir'd, 
Love  the  religion  that  my  soul  inspired! 
To  all  its  wishes,  all  its  ardors,  free, 
When  youth  yet  bounded  «v'ry  vow  to  thee; 
And  thou,  approving,  sent'st  the  flame  from  heav'n 
To  light  the  offering  that  my  heart  had  given. — 
But  hence,  for  ever,  images  of  pain  ! 
Let  memory  forget  or  fly  my  brain — 
Though  warm,  and  fond,  let  no  sweet  sense  be  mine- 
Youth  cease  to  feel,  or  all  thy  fires  refine  ! 


ALBERT   AND   ALTALYAN,  &C.  83 

No  spark  remain  of  all  that  blest  before, 

Or  mount  from  earth  to  change  nor  tremble  more. 

If  Grace,  yet,  leave  some  ling'ring  human  part, 

Some  dear,  and  deep,  affection  of  the  heart; 

One  thought,  untam'd,  which  still  delights  to  swell, 

One  fonder  wish  that  bids  the  breast  rebel ; 

Perish,  ye  passions,  in  relentless  glooms. 

These  sickly  shadows  of  the  kindred  tombs ! 

And,  ever  brooding,  black  oblivion !  fling 

Dull  devastation  from  thy  wasting  wing! 

No  torturing  pictures  of  the  past  appear. 

To  wake  the  sigh,  or  free  the  frozen  tear ; 

But,  Clora's  crimes,  even  Clora's  charms  forgot, 

No  once  lov'd  image  stain  this  hallow'd  spot ; 

No  chain  confine  the  soul's  extatic  flight, 

Enwrapt  and  glowing,  to  the  realms  of  light ! 

Oh !  lend  your  wings  to  leave  this  loath'd  abode, 

Consenting  angels,  give  me  to  my  God ! 


84  THE   REMAINS   OF 

Free  let  me  rove  through  yon  celestial  clime, 
The  trembling  slave,  no  more,  of  sense  and  time  I 
Unmix'd,  refin'd,  in  bright  seraphic  ray, 
Pure  let  me  mingle  with  translucent  day! 
At  these  dread  portals  though  Religion  flame. 
Forbidden  Nature  still  prefers  her  claim ! 
Man  will  recur,  admitted  memory  tell 
The  tales  of  hope,  and  acted  joys  too  well; 
One  tear  will  start,  one  human  weakness  rise — 
One  dear  idea  quite  obscure  the  skies ; 
Clora,  all-charming,  sigh  to  be  forgiv'n. 
And  lingering  love  yet  call  me  back  from  heav'n ! 
Farewell,  ye  fond  delights,  which  yet  I  view  t 
Oh !  thou  still  dear,  and  still  deplor'd,  adieu ! 
May  peace  and  pardon  gently  rest  on  thee, 
Unfeltone  pang  of  all  that  murder'd  me ! 
And,  too,  sad  thought !  when  all  thy  joys  are  o'er, 
.    And  fate  shall  bid  those  smiles  enchant  no  more; 


ALBERT   AND   ALTALVAN,  &C.  85 

When  in  his  grasp  the  trembling  roses  die, 
And  the  last  lustre  fades  upon  thine  eye; 
Tranc'd  in  bright  visions  of  eternal  day. 
May  ev'ry  sense,  unpain'd,  dissolve  away! 
While  sounds  of  heav'nly  harps  around  thee  float, 
May  choral  angels  swell  the  raptur'd  note, 
On  radiant  clouds  descending  glories  bring, 
And  waft  thy  spirit  on  exulting  wing, 
Where  that  blest  form  shall  breathe  a  charm  divine. 
And  all  a  Seraph's  love  succeed  to  mine ! 


MISCELLANIES. 


TO  MELISSA, 

0»   HEB  COMPLAINT  OF  A  CALUMNIOUS  WHISPER. 

Chase,  chase  that  tear,  relume  that  lovely  eye, 
Smile  on  thy  foes,  and  in  the  ray  they  die; 
With  soul  superior  mock  the  tales  that  wait 
For  ever  crouded  at  distinction's  gate ! 
The  vile  who  moulder  low,  unlov'd,  unknown. 
Are  safe  in  scorn;  Hate  strikes  at  Merit's  crown! 
Had  partial  Nature  ne'er  in  thee  combin'd 
A  polish'd  person  with  a  radiant  mind ; 
Or,  lonely,  glowing  on  the  pathless  green, 
Wert  thou  by  hinds  admir'd  or  rarely  seen. 
No  envious  hand  had  torn  thy  roseat  fame, 
To  wreathe  its  spoils  around  a  barren  name. 


90  TO    MELISSA. 

See  how  the  ivy  unmolested  creeps, 

Its  common  quality  in  quiet  sleeps; 

But  when  the  tendrils  of  the  tow'ring  vine 

Throw  their  hroad  blushes  o'er  tlie  stem  they  twiae^ 

And,  pregnant  with  the  purple  juices,  swell, 

The  hungry  insects  croud  from  every  cell. 

With  busy  fangs  the  suffering  sweets  consume, 

Pleas'd  as  they  perish,  and  resign  their  bloom. 

Then  chase  that  tear,  nor  let  Mclissa^S  sigh 
Confess  the  triumph  of  the  tyrant  lie; 
Bid  peace  and  joy  their  radiance  round  thee  throw. 
And  o'er  these  roses  breathe  a  warmer  glow : 
Those  charms  from  innocence  derive  their  rays. 
And  fear  not  censure  as  they  need  not  praise. 


LINES 


WRITTEN    AMONG   THE    RUINS   OF   A   PALACE    NEAR    NAAS, 
BUILT  BY  THE  UNFORTUNATE  EARL  OF  STRAFFORD. 


Ambition,  pause,  oh!  check  thy  mad  career! 
Behold,  and  drop  the  penitential  tear! 
Amid  these  silent  wastes,  and  mould'ring  walls, 
Reflect  how  man  is  mock'd,  how  fortune  falls? 
Though  every  talent,  every  virtue  rise, 
To  lift  their  proud  possessor  to  the  skies ; 
Though  in  a  prince's  smile,  a  people's  praise, 
Thou  think'st  secure  the  sunshine  of  thy  days, — 
Yet,  yet,  with  Strafford,  darken'd  s<ion  by  fate. 
Thou,  tooj.shalt  weep  the  crime  of  being  great! 


ODE, 

Occasioned  by  the  marder  of  the  Dae  d'Enghien,  who,  torn  from 
the  neutral  territory  of  Baden,  was  shot,  at  night,  in  the  wood 
of  Vincenne*,  after  a  mock  trial,  by  the  order  of  the  tyrant  of 
France. 


—————  Neque  hoc  tine  nomiTie  lethum 
Per  genta  erit,  aut  famam  patieris  inuUi. 

I. 

O'ER  ocean  high,  in  awful  pow'j, 

May  Britain's  gen'rous  ray 
To  Freedom  give  his  happiest  hour, 

To  Fame  her  fairest  sway ! 
Still  may  her  wave-wing'd  thunders  roll. 
Avenging,  o'er  the  tyrant's  soul. 

And  blast  the  banner  in  his  hand; 
Ambition's  trophied  empire  bend. 
Her  guilty  chains,  and  conquests  rend, 
And  hurl  in  ruin  her  ensanguin'd  band ! 


ODE*  93 

II. 

Oh !  stain  on  arms !  the  warrior's  might 

Sunk  in  th'  assassin's  blow ; 
The  beams  of  honor  set  in  night, 

And  quench'd  in  D'Enghien's  woe ! 
See  the  pale  torch,  thro*  Vincennes*  gloom, 
Light  the  sad  victim  to  the  tomb, 

And  glare  on  deeds  that  dread  the  day ! 
Lo !  forests,  from  their  inmost  glades. 
Start  at  the  flash  that  frights  their  shades. 
And  dies  with  guiltless  blood  the  sylvan  spray  I 

III. 

"thine,  hapless  prince!  that  guiltless  blood  f 

Ah!  lost  to  love*  and  life! 
Ah !  gen'rous,  valiant,  great  and  good ! 

Wreck'd  in  thy  country's  strife ! 


*  This  unfortunate  prince  was  betrothed  to  a  lady  of  eminent  rank 
awd  beauty  when  he  fell  by  the  hand  of  the  tyrant. 


94  ODE. 

la  thee  the  Bourbon  race  arose 
O'er  storms  of  fate,  and  fiercer  foes, 

Bright  in  the  beam  of  morning's  pow'r ! 
But  soon  the  demon  spj'd  firom  far 
The  coming  of  th'  auspicious  star. 
And  roird  the  darkness  of  the  deathfal  hour ! 

IV, 

Nor  Natbns'  laws,  a  people's  right, 

Shield  the  reposing  breast; 
Nor  ancient  Faith  assures  the  night, 

Nor  guards  an  exile's  rest! 
The  sacred  code  once  Europe  own'd, 
Ere  low-bom  cruelty,  enthrou'd, 

Trod  fealty,  honor,  truth,  in  dust ! 
Ere  ravenous  murder  mock'd  controul, 
Ere  Jaffa's  poignard,  Cairo's  bowl, 
Enslav'd  and  slaughter'd  for  a  tyrant's  lust! 


ODE.  95 

V. 

Stern  ravager!  relentless  king! 

Vain  are  the  sword,  and  slave ; 
Vain  the  vile  incense  flatterers  fling, 

And  vain  the  bleeding  brave ! 
Forth  from  th'  untimely  tomb  they  rise — 
They  blaze,  they  beckon  from  the  skies, 

And  point  where  vengeance  should  be  hurl'd; 
They  arm  the  wrongs  that  long  have  wept, 
They  grasp  the  bolt  that  long  hath  slept, 
And  wave  the  blazing  standard  of  the  world! 

VI. 

Should  nations  nor  indignant  fee), 

Though  late,  the  blush  of  shame, 
Nor,  glittering  in  victorious  steel, 

Seize  the  lost  wreathe  ef  fame; 


Should  abject  Gaul,  betray'd  and  bow'd. 
Still  poorly  cheat  the  captive  croud,- 

A  victor  and  a  victim  crown'd ! 
Still  the  sad  charnel  of  the  good ! 
The  foul  polluted  house  of  blood. 
Though  waste  herself,  yet,  breathe  a  ruin  round :— • 

VII. 
Still,  Britain,  to  your  gen'rous  scorn 

That  spurn'd  a  tyrant's  sway. 
The  present,  and  the  race  unborn, 

A  glorious  meed  shall  pay  I 
Undaunted,  in  your  awful  form. 
Single  you  stood  against  the  storm, 

Self-center'd  brav'd  a  world  in  arms? 
Serenely  in  your  righteous  cause. 
For  freedom,  God's  and  nature's  laws, 
Plum'd  your  proud  crest,  and  smil'd  amid  alarms  t 


ODE.  pr 

VIII. 
Oh!  ever,  may  thy  pow'r  prevail, 

Since  Virtue  points  its  aim, 
And  Justice,  by  ber  balanc'd  scale, 

Has  sanction'd  still  thy  claim! 
Glorious  in  love,  as  in  thy  rage. 
Still  may  the  fallen  Great  engage 

Thy  friendship,  in  misfortune's  hour ! 
Removed  in  mercy,  as  in  might. 
From  Gallia's  despot,  Gallia's  spite, 
Save  from  aD'Enghien's  grave,  and  blood-stain'd  pow'r ! 

IX. 

So  shall  the  tear  that  nightly  falls 

Upon  the  lover's  urn. 
The  grief  that  on  his  ashes  calls, 

To  grateful  transports  turn! 

B 


9ft  ODB» 

The  beauteous  and  the  brave  shall  pour 
Their  tribute  to  thine  honor'd  shore, 

Brighter  than  gems  from  India's  mine ; 
And  th'  attribute  of  heav'n,  in  thee, 
Shall  fix  thy  empire  o'er  the  sea, 
While  time  shall  last  or  virtue's  day-star  shine ! 


THE  VISION. 


As  late,  where  Liffey  rolls  his  tide, 
I  press'd  in  sleep  his  grassy  side, 
My  lyre,  unstrung,  neglected  lay; 
Mischance  had  torn  its  chords  away. 
Fate  all  its  fairy  visions  chas'd, 
And  sorrow  check'd  the  hand  of  taste ! 
Soft  o'er  my  griefs  a  magic  stole, 
And  warmer  trances  rapt  my  soul. 
A  form  appears,  with  eye  serene. 
And  beauty  smiles  o'er  all  her  mein ! 
Around  her  breathes  th'  ambrosial  rose. 
And  o'er  her  cheek  divinely  glows, 
In  sweet  suffusion,  gently  shed. 
Of  milder  ray  that  flush'd  and  fled. 


100  THE  VISION. 

Twas  Venus  'self,  the  queen  of  love ! 
Her  soften'd  tones  on  down  of  dove, 
Thus,  floating  o'er  the  falling  air, 
The  burthen  of  their  fragrance  bear. 
"  Arise ;  thy  trance  of  grief  forego; 
"  The  tears  that  fortune  bade  to  flow, 
"  Lose  in  the  smile  that  beams  on  thee, 
"  Arise,  fond  youth,  and  follow  me; 
"  To  love  awake  thy  slumb'ring  lyre, 
"  To  love  devote  the  song  of  fire !" 
She  ceas'd,  and  from  her  lip  distilM 
A  balm  that  all  my  senses  fiU'd. 
Ardent  I  rush'd  t'  imprint  the  kiss, 
And  madly  mingle  with  its  bliss. 
When  sudden  from  my  eager  view 
The  parting  vision's  glory  flew ! 
Its  broken  splendors,  glitt'ring,  shew 
like  fragments  of  th'  ethereal  bow, 


THE  VISION.  101 


'Till,  fading  in  expiring  ray,  > 
The  gems  of  light  dissolve  away ! 

Oh !  should  this  dreaded  vision  prove 
Prophetic  of  disastrous  love. 
Then,  mingling  in  the  phantom's  fate, 
Be  mine  its  dear,  its  transient  date  \ 


LINES. 

ADDRESSED   TO  A   FEMALE   WIT. 

1  SAW  her  in  the  circle  sparkling, 

Youth  and  fancy  in  her  eye, 
When,  sadly,  o'er  my  soul  came  darkling 

The  thought  that  tremhl'd  in  a  sigh. 

Shall  charms  that,  thus,  from  genius  borrow 
Beams  to  brighten  all  their  pow'r, 

Fading  before  the  wintry  morrow. 
Prove  the  lustre  of  an  hour? 

Shall  Sappho's  smiles  forget  their  passion, 
And  no  more  her  notes  impart, 

(By  feeling  taught,  not  form  and  fashion) 
Rage  or  rapture  to  the  heart? 


LINES.  103 

Ah !  yield  they  must  to  time's  dominion ! 

Cheerful,  yet,  I'll  think  the  while, 
Though  they  have  fled  on  hasty  pinion, 

Genius  will  their  loss  beguile. 

Her  flame  shall,  like  the  day  declining, 

Still  emit  a  milder  fire^ 
And,  as  she  sinks  yet  brightly  shining, 

Light  her  own  funereal  pyre ! 


EFFUSION 


ON   SEEING  A   PILLAR   RAISED  TO  THE   MEMORY  OF 
LORD  NELSON. 


Yes  J  mouro,  Britannia^  grateful,  mourn! 

Let  sterner  triumph  melt  in  woe; 
Time  shall  the  latest  age  have  borne 
Ere  soul  like  his  again  will  glow ! 
There  radiant  Honor  sate  enthroned. 
And  glory's  brightest  empire  own'd, 
While  Clemency  with  soften'd  right 


I 


Attemper*d  Valor's  matchless  might ! 
Godlike  the  conqueror  rul'd  the  battle's  roar. 

His  thunder  wielded  and  dispos'd  the  storm; 
Eesistless  victory  in  his  van  he  bore, 
Then  o'er  the  ruin  rose  in  mercy's  mildest  form ! 


EFFUSION.  105^ 

Nor  yet  to  Britain's  sons  confin'd 

Thy  great,  thy  consecrated  zeal ; 
Blest,  it  embraces  humankind, 
And  teaches  ev'n  the  slave  to  feel! 
In  breathing  characters  it  shews, 
Though  myriads  leagu(3  as  freedom's  foes, 
One  valorous  arm,  one  mighty  soul, 
Can  burst  Ambition's  base  controul ! 
So  shall  Aboukir's  pride,  so  Denmark's  boast, 
And  pale  Trafalgar's  wreck-invested  shore, 
la  peace  and  pow'r  secure  our  happier  coast. 
And  raise  a  prostrate  world  to  rights  renounc'd  before  I 

Thus,  gen'rous  victor!  glory's  child! 

Freedom,  around  thy  sacred  urn,  ^ 
Shall  see  her  proudest  trophies  pil'd. 
Her  universal  incense  burn  ! 
There,  rest  from  honor*s  stern  alarms) 
Rest  in  thy  weeping  country's  armSj 


106  EFFUSION. 

Hallowed  by  all  that  Fame  reveres — 
A  nation's  thanks,  a  nation's  tears  f 
Tyrants  appal'd,  and  impotent  shall  gaze. 
And  dread  the  patriot  ev'n  in  the  tomb; 
While  Gratitude  her  glowing  plaint  and  praise. 
Shall  hymn  atNelaon's  shrine,  and  breathe  cteraal  bloom. 


TO  BELINDA, 


ON  TELLING  THE  AUTHOR  HIS  FORTUNE  UPON  THE 
C&RDS. 


In  elder  time,  as  records  say, 
Still  anxious  for  the  future  day, 
Aspiring  man  would  oft  desire 
A  beam  of  the  prophetic  fire 
To  pierce  the  fates'  mysterious  gloom, 
And  give  the  knowledge  of  the  tomb  I 
Thence  Superstition  rear'd  her  pile 
In  each  sequester'd  grove  and  isle ; 
The  Sybill's  cave,  and  Delphic  fane 
Held  Greece  and  Rome  in  magic  chain, 
And  loading  long  th'  enfeebled  min(V 
Dealt  their  own  madness  to  mankind ! 


)08  TO  BELINDA. 

When  the  foul  goddess  shrunk  away 
In  reason's  late  returning  ray, 
Tlie  Proteus  pow'r  but  chang'd  its  form 
And  left  the  temple  for  tlie  storm ! 
i       For  when  Religion  rose  in  light 

And  scar'd  each  dark  and  horrid  rite, 
Mock'd  Superstition  fell  from  fame, 
Brok'n  her  censer,  quench'd  her  flame, 
And  wand'ring,  exil'd  from  her  reign. 
Peopled  the  wind,  and  roaring  main; 
Sent  midnight  hags  to  ride  the  blast, 
And  know  the  future  as  the  past: 
Scouring  the  desart  heath  and  sea 
They  hurried  on  with  destiny, 
And  long,  beneath  the  Northern  star, 
Pispo&'d  the  doom  of  peace  and  war! 
Soft'ning  at  length  through  milder  days, 
Foreknowledge  lingers  in  our  ways, 


to    BELINDA.  10*3 

In  fairer  form  and  sweet  attire, 
'Mid  calmer  climes,  with  gentler  fire: 
No  gloomy  fane  enwrapt  in  clouds. 
No  heath  that  horrid  midnight  shrouds, 
No  goddess  thund'ring*from  her  cave, 
No  hag  that  wakes  the  quiet  grave 
We  seek;  far  other  scenes  invite. 
Far  other  charms  bewitch  the  night ! 
Apartments  gay  our  temple  now, 
An  altar  green  receives  our  vow ; 
And  paintings  of  prophetic  hue 
Present  life's  colours  to  our  view, 
Expounded  by  a  Priestess  fair, 
Who  still  forbids  us  to  despair, 
And  still  our  rigid  fate  beguiled 
With  softest  tones,  and  sweetest  smiles; 
While  in  Belinda's  magic  eye 
We  read  the  transcript  from  the  sky  I 


EFFUSION 


OK  "A   TaUNG   AKD   GALLAMT    OFFICER    WHO   FELL    IN    A 
KAVAL    ENGAGEM£1IT. 


XlS  past !  stern  victory  stills  the  battle's  roar. 
The  shout,  the  sigh,  of  death  are  heard  no  more; 
Albion's  triumphant  car  has  left  the  wave, 
At  once  the  warrior's  glory  and  his  grave! 
And  has  he  sunk  on  sudden  from  our  sky. 
No  fading  beam  to  warn  the  wishful  eye  ? 
No  more  to  shine,  amid  the  dazzling  fight, 
Tlie  crested  bulwark  of  his  country's  right! 
No  mo(e  to  heap  the  sweetly  social  bowl, 
Or  pour  the  freely  mingling  tide  of  soul  J 
rarcwcll,  my  friend !  let  this  untutor'd  sigh. 
This  genuine  grief  and  artless  agony — 


EFFUSION.  Ill 

In  more  than  pomp  of  polish'd  sorrow  tell 
How  lov'd  you  liv'd,  oh !  how  lamented  fell ! 
Plac'd  in  some  sacred  aisle  beneath  the  wave, 
May  Spirits  guard  thee  who  respect  the  brave ! 
Thy  shrine  may  Honor,  Valor,  Freedom  raise, 
And  weeping  sea  Nymphs  keep  their  charge  of  praise! 
That  when  some  future  navy's  awful  pride 
Draws  its  long  triumphs  o'er  the  subject  tide. 
The  sad  memorial,  rising  from  below, 
May  charm  its  course,  and  conquest  move  to  woe; 
While  Bion's  fate,  and  fame,  to  heroes  dear, 
Shall  wake  an  envy,  and  receive  a  tear! 


LINES 

WRITTEN   IN   THE  GROTTO   OF   A   WIDOWED   FRIEM0. 

JMaY  no  bold  step  invade  this  tranquil  scene, 
No  ruder  breath  disturb  the  shade  serene  5 
But  gentle  gales,  in  dying  cadence, -bring 
Their  soothing  murmurs  on  ambrosial  wing! 
And  melting  music  of  the  warbling  grove 
Chaunt  the  soft  requiem  of  reposing  love ! 
May  milder  Spirits  grace  this  sylvan  spot, 
And  weave  their  blest  enchantment  round  the  grot! 
May  health  diffiise  her  freshening  roses  here, 
And  pensive  sorrow  smile  away  her  tear ! 
While  Genius,  lingering  near  his  lov'd  retreat, 
Shall  guard  the  Faiie  as  friendship's  holiest  seat! 


EFFUSION. 


Enchantments  of  a  softer  spell, 

Lovely  powers  that  round  thee  dwell ! 

Inspiring  smiles  that  fondly  flow 

Zealous  to  heighten  heauty's  glow ! 

As  the  young  morning's  radiant  vest 

Mantles  the  rose's  hlushing  breast ! 

United,  thus,  divinely  fair ! 

Aloud  let  other  lays  declare. 

Let  timid  tears  that,  trembling,  shine 

In  silent  eloquence,  be  mine; 

No  song,  no  praise  like  these  can  prove 

So  true  to  feeling,  and  to  love ! 


LINES 

WRITTEN   ON   A   FAN. 

Go,  pretty  trifler!  autt'ring  thing! 

Return  thee  to  Florinda's  care. 
And,  could  I  trust  thy  changeful  wing, 
I'd  charge  thee  to  fulfil  my  pra/r,— 
Still  in  her  breast  the  tender  thought  to  move, 
And  every  gale  to  be  the  breath  of  love ! 


LINES 


WRITTEN  IN  A  COTTAGE,  BUILT  ON  THE  SITE  OF  A  CASTLE, 
ONCE  INHABITED  BY  AN  IRISH  CHIEFTAIN. 


Stranger  !  whose  steps  have  sought  this  lone  retreat, 

Once  the  rude  monarch's  sanguinary  seat! 

Approach;  no  scenes  of  savage  pomp  appear, 

No  grandeur  nourished  by  the  falling  tear ; 

Low  in  the  dust  the  proud  O'Nials  sleep. 

And  realms  no  more  their  stern  oppression  weep. 

No  ruder  sound  shall  now  disturb  the  scene. 

Than  munn'ring  waters  wand'ring  through  the  green ; 

Or  the  wild  hymn  that,  echoing  through  the  grove, 

Chaunts  the  soft  instincts  of  rejoicing  love ! 

While  the  fond  owner  seeks  no  happier  5p<jt, 

"  The  world  forgetting  by  the  world  forgot." 


ELEGY 


TO  THE  M£MORY  OF  A  NOBLE  BUT  UNFORTUNATE  If  ATEOK. 


What  feeble  groan  along  the  silent  vale 
Pants  on  my  ear,  and  swells  the  midnight  gale? 
Tis  thine, — alas,  thy  lov'd  and  latest  breath ! 
Thy  sigh  just  struggling  on  the  shaft  of  death  f 
Oh !  early  lost,  lamented  matron !  say 
Do  thy  stern  woes  relent  in  milder  day? 
Dost  thou  behold  that  far,  yet  friendly  shore, 
Where  tyrant  man  can  rage,  and  wrong  no  more  ? 
Yes;  none  thy  modest  meed  shall  now  refuse, 
No  laws  oppress  thee,  and  no  rights  abuse; 
No  sullen  lord  now  fills  thy  mournful  eye, 
Remorseless  bids  thee  weep,  or  sees  thee  die. 


ELEGY.  117 

Oh !  hard  thy  doom,  in  early  grief  to  pine, 
Though  every  virtue,  every  grace  was  thine ; 
The  rose  of  youthful  love  consum'd  by  hate. 
And  each  warm  wish  quick  withering  in  fate ! 
Ah !  what  avail'd  thee  then  th*  angelic  eye 
Which  stole  its  azure  glances  from  the  sky? 
That  magic  smile  thro'  woe  diffusing  day, 
More  soft  than  suns  'mid  April's  tears  display  ? 
No  bliss  connubial  crown'd  thy  ardent  soul. 
No  drop  of  sweetness  blended  in  the  bowl, 
The  dregs  of  bitterness  were  thine  to  drain. 
And  poverty  to  parch  the  noble  vein ! 

Oh !  faithless  traitor  to  a  trust  so  fair ! 

Thou  mean  assassin  of  thy  wedded  care ! 

Was  innocence  a  crime,  and  beauty  blame, 

Wit  a  reproach,  and  matron  honor  shame? 

The  sainted  virtues  of  a  murder'd  wife 

Shall  haunt  thy  couch,  and  scare  the  joys  of  life; 


118  ELEGY. 

Her  mournful  form  shall  cloud  the  sunny  glade, 
Her  mould'ring  arms  arrest  thee  in  the  shade, 
And  dire  remorse  infix  his  cureless  dart 
Deep  in  the  wretch  who  drain'd  a  woman's  heart ! 
For  thee,  fair  mourner!  every  sorrow  past, 
Thy  burning  pulse  has  ceas'd  to  throb  at  last. 
Now  all  is  calm ;  the  grave  no  injury  knows, 
Swells  with  no  sigh,  at  no  oppression  glows ; 
There  sleep  secure  in  its  unenvy'd  shrine, 
^ill  saints  receive  thee  with  a  truth  like  thine; 
And,  round  the  simple  turf  that  wraps  thy  clay, 
.  May  pitying  nature  all  her  homage  pay ! 
There  shall  the  earliest  gems  of  spring  be  shed, 
And  summer's  latest  blooms  bestrew  thy  bed! 
There  evening's  hymn  shall  charm  thee  to  thy  rest, 
While  angels  mix  the  music  of  the  blest ! 

And  there  the  bard  with  pensive  lyre  delays 
To  blend  his  sadness  with  the  song  of  praise; 


ELEGY.  119 

O'er  thy  pale  charms  to  pour  th*  impassion'd  lay, 
And  teach  his  tears  to  give  another's  sway ! 
Teach  a  just  rage  to  mock  the  murderer's  aim, 
And  tear  oblivion's  curtain  from  thy  name ; 
Give  thy  neglected  urn  to  pity's  eye. 
Bid  woman  weep,  indignant  manhood  sigh! 
Remembrance  may,  at  least,  be  paid  to  thee, 
That  plaintive  pleasure  yet  remains  for  me? 


A  FAREWELL  TO  A  COTTAGE. 


Farewell,  sweet  spot!  dear  humble  bow'r! 

My  lone,  and  lov'd  retreat, 
Where  feeling  found  the  unenvy'd  hour, 

And  fix'd  her  favorite  seat! 

Farewell ; — methinks  this  boding  sigh 

Foretells  that,  here,  at  rest, 
Thy  scenes  no  more  shall  charm  my  eye^ 

No  more  entrance  my  breast! 

For  now  the  sad  decaying  year, 

That  pours  a  paler  sun. 
Seems  writing,  in  October's  tear. 

Thy  tranquil  race  is  run. 


A  FARE\fELL  TO   A  COTTAGE.  121 

Farewell ; — amid  the  busy  croud 

My  thoughts  shall  turn  on  thee, 
Where  peace  without  a  passing  clotid 

Shed  her  mild  beams  on  me. 

Among  the  giddy,  and  the  great, 

Tumultuous  joys  may  rise, 
Yet,  still,  I'll  bless  thy  simple  state, 

And  thy  serener  skies. 

I'll  think  how,  'raid  thy  silent  shade, 

I  drew  the  lettered  lore. 
And  cuU'd  those  flowers  which  never  fadt 

To  fill  the  mental  store. 

How  Contemplation,  here  retired, 

Imbib'd  the  patriot's  flame, 
At  nature's  glowing  altars  fir'd, 

Pursu'd  a  nobler  name! 


122  A    FAREWELL   TO   A   COTTAGE. 

*  Taught  by  a  father's  wrongs  to  spurn 
Each  vice  of  meaner  minds. 

And  brave  in  exile  that  return 
Which  artless  honor  finds ! 


*  This  alludes  to  a  leading  circumstance  in  the  hbtory  of  the  author's 
father,  who  having  spent  a  long  life  in  the  service  of  learning  and  reli- 
gion, and  having  filled  the  station  of  Vice  Provost  of  the  University  of 
Dublin  with  an  unblemished  reputation  for  talents,  integrity,  and  loy- 
alty, was  supplanted  in  his  rights,  and  set  by  out  of  the  ordinary  role  of 
promotion  that  had  been  latterly  obsen.'ed  by  government  for  the  reward 
of  merit  and  the  encouragement  of  virtue,  when  a  vacancy  occurred  in 
the  provostship,  in  order  to  provide  for  a  gentleman,  who  had  been  the 
vice  provost's  own  pupil.  In  consequence  he  resigned  his  situation,  and 
with  wounded  and  indignant  feelings  retired  to  a  living  in  the  country, 
which  forms  the  scene  of  the  above  composition,  and  where  he  adds  one 
tp  the  numerous  list  of  those  whose  worth  has  been  injured,  and  whose 
affectionate  loyalty  has  been  insulted  by  the  profligacy  of  ministers. 
This  shameless  measure  was  avowed,  and  exclusively  effected  by  Lord 
Hardwicke,  then  Chief  Oovernor  of  Ireland,  who  though  he  could  recon- 
cile it  to  his  sense  of  justice  and  of  public  duty,  yet,  assuredly  fur- 
nished in  it  one  of  those  too  frequent  and  lamented  instances  of  political 
immorality  in  the  servants  of  the  state,  which  has  wrought  more  injury 
to  that  constitution  they  have  sworn  to  support  than  tlie  pen  or  th« 
swerd  of  th«  most  open  and  unrelenting  eaemies. 


A   FAREWEtL  TO  A  COTTAGE.  123 

And,  too,  I'll  think  how  memory  spread 

Her  tenderest  trances  here, 
Recall'd  the  lov'd  lamented  dead. 

Within  her  magic  sphere ! 

Soft  as  the  lambent  flame  of  night 

That  gilds  the  darksome  wave, 
Pour'd  her  mild  rays  reflected  light 

Upon  the  gloomy  grave ! 

Yet,  now,  farewell,  dear  humble  bow'r! 

My  lone,  and  lov'd  retreat, 
Where  feeling  found  the  unenvy'd  hour, 

And  fix'd  her  favorite  seat ! 

Far  other  scenes  my  steps  invite. 

Far  other  walks  of  life, 
Where  fashion  plumes  his  vain  deligh^ 

Ambition  wakes  his  strife ! 


124  A   ?AREWELL   TO   A  COTTAGp. 

Yet>  as  the  seaman,  far  away, 
Who  braves  the  wintry  deep, 

Forc'd  from  his  home  and  genial  day, 
Looks  o'er  the  waste  to  weep ; 

My  pensive  soul  will  oft  rebel, 

Qft  fe^l  the  starting  tear. 
Sigh  for  the  friends  that  round  thee  dwell, 

And  build  my  wishes  here! 


A  FAREWELL  TO  THE  MUSE. 


Dear  to  my  heart,  seductive  joy  I 
Enthusiast  folly,  tuneful  toy ! 
That  still,  with  mild,  and  magic  spell, 
Drew  fairy  forms  to  fancy's  cell; 
And  still,  when  rankling  cares  deny'd 
The  tranquil  charms  time  once  supply'd, 
Froze  the  young  smile,  'mid  gelid  tears. 
And  smote  the  hope  of  rising  years ! 
Could,  with  inventive  guile,  controul 
The  trembling  anguish  of  my  soul. 
And  raise,  amid  the  ruthless  strife, 
Sweet  mansions  of  illusive  life! 


126  A   FAREWELL   TO   THE   MUSE. 

And  must  I  leave  thy  fields  of  flow'rs  ? 

Ah !  leave  th'  enchantment  of  tby  bow'rs  ? 

I^eturn  to  all  my  sense  of  pain, 

And  meet  opposing  storms  again? 

Six  lustres,  now,  have  o'er  me  roll'd ; 

Prudence  the  chastening  rein  should  hold; 

Yet,  thirty  suns  but  still  inflame 

The  heart  that  bangs  on  fleeting  fame ; 

And  trembles  near  the  lucid  line 

That  parts  her  hemisphere  from  mine. 

Tis  time  to  break  the  magic  chain. 

Nor  sigh  through  hours  that  waste  in  vain; 

Nor  chase  a  meteor  of  the  moor 

That  ever  keeps  the  wanderer  poor. 

Action's  the  scene,  by  hcav'n  decreed. 

Where  man  should  struggle  though  he  bleed. 

And,  to  be  useful  in  his  sphere, 

Pay  the  probationary  tear; 


A   FAREWELL   TO   THE   MUSE.  127 

While  dreams  that  weave  their  silken  bands. 
And  fairy  forms  that  chain  our  hands, 
Still,  with  a  selfish  pride,  create 
An  empire  of  ideal  state; 
Retir'd,  'mid  visions  of  the  mind. 
Exclude  the  cares  that  others  find. 
And,  shut  frcan  all  the  ties  of  life, 
Nor  wake  its  joys,  nor  calm  its  strife! 
Yet,  think  not,  Muse !  my  feeble  strain 
Would  dare  thy  sacred  sons  profane ; 
No;  when  the  bard  derives  from  thee 
His  claim  of  native  majesty. 
The  boundless  sway  of  every  lyre. 
Rapt  inspiration,  heav'n-sprung  fire; 
Rever'd  be  ev'ry  holy  dream 
That  kindles  in  his  gifted  beam ! 
And  blest  the  chords  that  pour  along 
The  trqth— the  prophesy  of  song! 


128  A   FAKEWELL  TO  THE  MUSE. 

No  busy  sound,  that  frights  the  shade. 
His  sanctuary  of  thought  invade ; 
He  meditates  for  man,  and  rolls 
His  sweet  instruction  through  the  poles ; 
Where'er  the  tide  of  numbers  flows 
A  salutary  bliss  bestows ; 
And,  mingling  with  the  waves  of  time. 
For  ever  feeds  each  fator'd  clime ! 
Sacred  be,  then,  his  lov*d  retreat. 
The  Muses'  and  the  Virtues'  seat  * 
While  mine  no  happier  charm  invests. 
Not  mine,  alas !  the  heav'nly  guests  I 
Mine  but  the  spark  that  falls  among 
The  sons  of  undistinguish'd  song. 
Then  rather  quench  th'  unwilling  ray 
Than  boast  its  sickly  beams  in  day, 
Whose  awful  splendors  fiercely  flame 
For  ever  round  the  fane  of  fame  ; 


A    FAREWELL   TO   THE   MUSE.  129 

And  proudly  see  each  feebler  fire 

In  the  refulgent  blaze  expire ! 

Calmly  resign  that  useless  strain, 

Its  moral,  and  its  music  vain  ! 

Who  marks  the  murm'ring  streamlet  pour 

When  Niagara's  torrents  roar? 

Who,  'mid  the  garden's  glowing  pride, 

Does  not  the  field  flower's  leaf  deride  ? 

Or  if,  by  partial  heav'n  design'd 

To  pour  the  liberal  flood  of  mind. 

Why  should  I  seek  the  poet's  fate, 

At  once  be  wretched  and  be  great? 

Like  gen'rous  Burns,  ignobly,  serve; 

Like  Camoens  beg,  or  Otway  starve ! 

Or  drain,  in  agony  of  soul. 

With  Chatterton  th'  envenora'd  bowl ! 

Then  from  Parnassus'  flowery  way 

Through  ruder  scenes  condemn'd  to  stray, 

K 


130  A   FAREWELL   TO  THE   MUSS. 

I'll  try  the  path  that  others  trod, 

And  scale  stern  Industry's  abode; 

Yield  to  the  world  and  naan's  esteem, 

My  cherish'd  ease,  my  happy  dream ! 

Dissolve  its  charm  of  soothing  pow'r, 

Awake  to  all  the  real  hour. 

Live  through  the  cares,  by  heav'n  design'd, 

And  leave  the  paradise  of  mind  ! 

So  may  I  reach,  by  trials  prov'd. 

At  length  the  haven  that  1  lov'd, 

Nor  claim,  untitled  when  untry'd, 

Recluse  in  solitary  pride. 

Like  the  soft  monk,  a  safer  seat, 

Uubought  by  deeds,  that  crown  retreat ! 

Then  fare  thee  well,  my  earliest  friend ! 
No  farther  on  my  steps  attend ; 
Thy  lovely  form,  and  tender  lay, 
111  suited  to  my  rugged  way, 


A  FAREWELL  TO  THE  MITSB.  131 

No  more  shall  follow  where  I  go 
T'  exalt  my  bliss,  or  lull  my  woe ; 
To  tune  my  soul  to  softer  sense. 
Charm  every  harsher  feeling  thence, 
And  bid  each  kind  emotion  prove 
The  herald,  and  the  hope  of  love! 
No  more  thy  visionary  ray 
Shall  clothe  the  dull  terrestrial  day; 
Bid  summer  smile,  and  zephyr  blow, 
And  fancy's  beamy  flowrets  glow! 
Or  when,  with  pain,  compell'd  to  part 
From  all  that's  fasten'd  round  the  heart ; 
The  freshest  dews  of  heav'n  distil. 
To  weep  their  balm  o'er  human  ill; 
And,  'mid  the  sorrows  of  the  night, 
Engem  her  weeds  with  pearly  light ! 
Oh !  fare  thee  well,  seductive  joy  ! 
Enthusiast  folly !  tuneful  toy ! 


132  A   FAEEWELL  TO   THE   MUSE. 

Thy  spell,  thy  happy  dream  is  o'er, 
Blest  iacantation  charm  uo  more  ! 
Yet  the  poor  maniac,  left  by  thee, 
And  wak'd  to  sense  and  misery  ! 
Will  oft  regret  the  phrenaied  hour 
He  wove  with  thee  the  wildest  flow'r, 
And  strew  each  leaf  of  memory's  bloom 
Around  thy  fair  and  fancied  tomb ! 


FINIS. 


ERRATA. 
i>age6l,  liiie   7,  for  "sportive  wing,"  read  "  wanton  wing." 
-■■■     f)5j  10,  for  "blazing  standard/'  read  "  flaming  standard.' 


W.  Wilson,  Printer,  St.  John's  Square,  London, 


I  his    bOOK    18   LIUC   on    '  " 


fTlf«,^  THE  LTBRARV 
jylSlVteRSlTY  OF  CALIFOr>r 


LOS  ANGELES 


II  H II 

■"  ■■IK  ■11)1  iifii  iirii  iiiii  ififi  Kill  if'"  "''■  "■' 

AA      000  081670    2 


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