Poetical Works of Johnson, Parnell, Gray, and Smollett Part 11

What frowns confuse his picture of the skies! 180

At first the creature Man was framed alone, Lord of himself, and all the world his own.

For him the Nymphs in green forsook the woods, For him the Nymphs in blue forsook the floods; In vain the Satyrs rage, the Tritons rave; They bore him heroes in the secret cave.

No care destroy'd, no sick disorder prey'd, No bending age his sprightly form decay'd, No wars were known, no females heard to rage, And poets tell us, 'twas a golden age. 190

When woman came, those ills the box confined Burst furious out, and poison'd all the wind,

From point to point, from pole to pole they flew, Spread as they went, and in the progress grew: The Nymphs, regretting, left the mortal race, And, altering Nature, wore a sickly face: New terms of folly rose, new states of care; New plagues to suffer, and to please, the fair!

The days of whining, and of wild intrigues, Commenced, or finish'd, with the breach of leagues; 200 The mean designs of well-dissembled love; The sordid matches never join'd above; Abroad, the labour, and at home the noise, (Man's double sufferings for domestic joys) The curse of jealousy; expense, and strife; Divorce, the public brand of shameful life; The rival's sword; the qualm that takes the fair; Disdain for pa.s.sion, pa.s.sion in despair-- These, and a thousand yet unnamed, we find; Ah, fear the thousand yet unnamed behind! 210

Thus on Parna.s.sus tuneful Hesiod sung, The mountain echoed, and the valley rung, The sacred groves a fix'd attention show, The crystal Helicon forbore to flow, The sky grew bright, and (if his verse be true) The Muses came to give the laurel too.

But what avail'd the verdant prize of wit, If Love swore vengeance for the tales he writ?

Ye fair offended, hear your friend relate What heavy judgment proved the writer's fate, 220 Though when it happen'd, no relation clears; 'Tis thought in five, or five and twenty years.

Where, dark and silent, with a twisted shade The neighbouring woods a native arbour made, There oft a tender pair for amorous play Retiring, toy'd the ravish'd hours away; A Locrian youth, the gentle Troilus he, A fair Milesian, kind Evanthe she: But swelling Nature, in a fatal hour, Betray'd the secrets of the conscious bower; 230 The dire disgrace her brothers count their own, And track her steps, to make its author known.

It chanced one evening, ('twas the lover's day) Conceal'd in brakes the jealous kindred lay; When Hesiod, wandering, mused along the plain, And fix'd his seat where Love had fix'd the scene: A strong suspicion straight possess'd their mind, (For poets ever were a gentle kind.) But when Evanthe near the pa.s.sage stood, Flung back a doubtful look, and shot the wood, 240 'Now take (at once they cry) thy due reward!'

And, urged with erring rage, a.s.sault the bard.

His corpse the sea received. The dolphins bore ('Twas all the G.o.ds would do) the corpse to sh.o.r.e.

Methinks I view the dead with pitying eyes, And see the dreams of ancient wisdom rise; I see the Muses round the body cry, But hear a Cupid loudly laughing by; He wheels his arrow with insulting hand, And thus inscribes the moral on the sand: 250 'Here Hesiod lies: ye future bards beware How far your moral tales incense the fair: Unloved, unloving, 'twas his fate to bleed; Without his quiver Cupid caused the deed: He judged this turn of malice justly due, And Hesiod died for joys he never knew.'

SONG.

1 When thy beauty appears, In its graces and airs, All bright as an angel new dropt from the sky; At distance I gaze, and am awed by my fears, So strangely you dazzle my eye!

2 But when without art, Your kind thoughts you impart, When your love runs in blushes through every vein; When it darts from your eyes, when it pants in your heart, Then I know you're a woman again.

3 There's a pa.s.sion and pride In our s.e.x (she replied), And thus (might I gratify both) I would do: Still an angel appear to each lover beside, But still be a woman to you.

SONG.

1 Thyrsis, a young and amorous swain, Saw two, the beauties of the plain; Who both his heart subdue: Gay Caelia's eyes were dazzling fair, Sabina's easy shape and air With softer magic drew.

2 He haunts the stream, he haunts the grove, Lives in a fond romance of love, And seems for each to die; Till each, a little spiteful grown, Sabina Caelia's shape ran down, And she Sabina's eye.

3 Their envy made the shepherd find Those eyes, which love could only blind; So set the lover free: No more he haunts the grove or stream, Or with a true-love knot and name Engraves a wounded tree.

4 Ah, Caelia! (sly Sabina cried) Though neither love, we're both denied; Now, to support the s.e.x's pride, Let either fix the dart.

Poor girl! (says Caelia) say no more; For should the swain but one adore, That spite which broke his chains before, Would break the other's heart.

SONG.

1 My days have been so wondrous free, The little birds that fly With careless ease from tree to tree, Were but as bless'd as I.

2 Ask gliding waters, if a tear Of mine increased their stream?

Or ask the flying gales, if e'er I lent one sigh to them?

3 But now my former days retire, And I'm by beauty caught, The tender chains of sweet desire Are fix'd upon my thought.

4 Ye nightingales! ye twisting pines!

Ye swains that haunt the grove!

Ye gentle echoes! breezy winds!

Ye close retreats of lore!

5 With all of Nature, all of Art, a.s.sist the dear design; Oh teach a young, unpractised heart To make my Nancy mine.

6 The very thought of change I hate, As much as of despair; Nor ever covet to be great, Unless it be for her.

7 'Tis true, the pa.s.sion in my mind Is mix'd with soft distress; Yet while the fair I love is kind, I cannot wish it less.

ANACREONTIC.

When Spring came on with fresh delight, To cheer the soul, and charm the sight, While easy breezes, softer rain, And warmer suns salute the plain; 'Twas then, in yonder piny grove, That Nature went to meet with Love.

Green was her robe, and green her wreath, Where'er she trod, 'twas green beneath; Where'er she turn'd, the pulses beat With new recruits of genial heat; 10 And in her train the birds appear, To match for all the coming year.

Raised on a bank, where daisies grew, And violets intermix'd a blue, She finds the boy she went to find; A thousand pleasures wait behind, Aside a thousand arrows lie, But all, unfeather'd, wait to fly.

When they met, the dame and boy, Dancing graces, idle joy, 20 Wanton smiles, and airy play, Conspired to make the scene be gay; Love pair'd the birds through all the grove, And Nature bid them sing to Love, Sitting, hopping, fluttering sing, And pay their tribute from the wing, To fledge the shafts that idly lie, And, yet unfeather'd, wait to fly.

'Tis thus, when Spring renews the blood, They meet in every trembling wood, 30 And thrice they make the plumes agree, And every dart they mount with three, And every dart can boast a kind, Which suits each proper turn of mind.

From the towering eagle's plume The generous hearts accept their doom; Shot by the peac.o.c.k's painted eye The vain and airy lovers die: For careful dames and frugal men, The shafts are speckled by the hen: 40 The pies and parrots deck the darts, When prattling wins the panting hearts: When from the voice the pa.s.sions spring, The warbling finch affords a wing: Together, by the sparrow stung, Down fall the wanton and the young: And fledged by geese the weapons fly, When others love they know not why.

All this (as late I chanced to rove) I learn'd in yonder waving grove. 50 And see, says Love, who call'd me near, How much I deal with Nature here; How both support a proper part, She gives the feather, I the dart: Then cease for souls averse to sigh, If Nature cross ye, so do I; My weapon there unfeather'd flies, And shakes and shuffles through the skies.

But if the mutual charms I find By which she links you, mind to mind, 60 They wing my shafts, I poise the darts, And strike from both, through both your hearts.

ANACREONTIC.

1 Gay Bacchus liking Estcourt's[1] wine, A n.o.ble meal bespoke us; And for the guests that were to dine, Brought Comus, Love, and Jocus.

2 The G.o.d near Cupid drew his chair, Near Comus, Jocus placed; For wine makes Love forget its care, And Mirth exalts a feast.