Sivut kuvina
[ocr errors]

Away, thou hideous hell-born sprite, Go, with looks of dark design,

Sullen, sour, and saturnine; Fly to some gloomy shade, nor blot the goodly light.

Thy planet was remote when I was born: 'Twas Mercury that rul'd my natal morn,

What time the Sun exerts his genial ray, And ripens for enjoyment every growing day;

When to exist is but to love and sing, And sprightly Aries smiles upon the spring.

There in yon lonesome heath, Which Flora or Sylvanus never knew,

Where never vegetable drank the dew, Or beast or fowl attempts to breathe ;

Where Nature's pencil has no colours laid ; But all is blank, and universal shade;

Contrast to figure, motion, life, and light, There may'st thou vent thy spite,

For ever cursing, and for ever curs'd, Of all th' infernal crew the worst;

The worst in genius, measure, and degree ; For envy, hatred, malice, are but parts of thee. Or would'st thou change the scene, and quit the

den Where spleen, by vapours dense begot and bred,

Hardness of heart, and heaviness of head, Have rais'd their darksome walls, and plac'd their

thorny bed ; There may'st thou all thy bitterness unload, There may'st thou croak in concert with the toad,

With thee the hollow howling winds shall join, Nor shall the bittern her base throat deny, The querulous frogs shall mix their dregs with


[ocr errors]


Th' ear-piercing hern, the plover screaming high, Millions of humming gnats fit æstrum shall sup

ply. Away-away--behold an hideous band,

An herd of all thy minions are at hand ; Suspicion first with jealous caution stalks,

And ever looks around her as she walks, With bibulous ear imperfect sounds to catch,

And proud to listen at her neighbour's latch,

Next, Scandal's meagre shade,
Foe to the virgin's and the poet's fame,

A wither'd time-deflower'd old maid,
That ne'er enjoy'd love's ever-sacred flame.

Hypocrisy succeeds with saint-like look,

And elevates her hands, and plods upon her book. Next comes illiberal scrambling Avarice,

Then Vanity, aud Affectation nice-See, she salutes her shadow with a bow,

As in short Gallic trips she minces by, Starting antipathy is in her eye,

And squeamishly she knits her scornful brow. To thee, Ill-Nature, all the numerous group

With lowly reverence stoop,
They wait thy call, and mourn thy long delay,
Away--thou art infectious--haste away.


TO HOSPITALITY. DOMESTIC power! erewhile rever'd

Where Syria spread her palmy plain, Where Greece her tuneful Muses heard,

Where Rome beheld her patriot-train ;

Thou to Albion too wert known,

Midst the moat and moss-grown wall, That girt her Gothic-structur'd hall

With rural trophies strown.
The traveller, doubtful of his way,

Upon the pathless forest wild ;
The huntsman, in the heat of day,
And with the tedious chase o'ertoild;

Wide their view around them cast,

Mark'd the distant rustic tower,
And sought and found the festive bower,

And shar'd the free repast.
E’en now, on Caledonia's shore,

When Eve's dun robe the sky arrays, Thy punctual hand unfolds the door, Thy eye the mountain road surveys;

Pleas'd to spy the casual guest,

Pleas'd with food his heart to cheer,
With pipe or song to sooth his ear,

And spread his couch for rest.
Nor yet ev’n here disdain'd thy sway,

Where Grandeur's splendid modern seat Far o'er the landscape glitters gay ; Or where fair Quiet's lone retreat

Hides beneath the hoary hill,

Near the dusky upland shade,
Between the willow's glossy glade,

And by the tinkling rill.
There thine the pleasing interviews

That friends and relatives endear,
When scenes, not often seen, amuse ;

When tales, not often told, we hear ;

There the scholar's liberal mind

Oft instruction gives and gains,
And oft the lover's lore obtains

His fair-one's audience kind.
O gentle power! where'er thy reign,

May Health and Peace attend thee still ;
Nor Folly's presence cause the pain,
Nor vice reward thy good with ill:

Gratitude thy altar raise,

Wealth to thee her offerings pay, And Genius wake his tuneful lay To celebrate thy praise.



PARENT of joy ! heart-easing Mirth!

Whether of Venus or Aurora born;
Yet goddess sure of heavenly birth,
Visit benign a son of Grief forlorn :

Thy glittering colours gay,
Around him, Mirth, display;
And o'er his raptur'd sense

Diffuse thy living influence :
So shall each hill in purer green array'd
And, flower-adorn'd, in new-born beauty glow;
The grove shall smooth the horrors of the

shade, And streams in murmurs shall forget to flow. Shine, goddess, shine with unremitted ray, And gild (a second sun) with brighter beamour day.

Labour with thee forgets his pain, And aged Poverty can smile with thee,

If thou be nigh, Grief's hate is vain,
And weak th' uplifted arm of Tyranny.

The Morning opes on high
His universal eye;
And on the world doth pour

His glories in a golden shower,
Lo! Darkness trenibling 'fore the hostile ray
Shrinks to the cavern deep and wood forlorn:

The brood obscene, that own her gloomy sway, Troop in her rear, and fly th' approach of morn. Pale shivering ghosts, that dread th' all-cheering light,

[night. Quick, as the lightning's flash, glide, to sepulchral

But whence the gladdening beam
That pours his purple stream

O'er the long prospect wide ?
'Tis Mirth. I see her sit
In majesty of light,

With Laughter at her side.
Bright ey'd Fancy hovering near
Wide waves her glancing wing in air ;
And young Wit flings his pointed dart,
That guiltless strikes the willing heart..

Fear not now Affiction's power,
Fear not now wild Passion's rage,

Nor fear ye ought in evil hour, Save the tardy hand of Age. Now Mirth hath heard the suppliant poet's prayer: No cloud that rides the blast shall vex the troubled air.

Smollet. 10


« EdellinenJatka »