The Minstrel; or the Progress of Genius Part 7

x.x.xVII.

'Sweet were your shades, O ye primeval groves, 'Whose boughs to man his food and shelter lent, 'Pure in his pleasures, happy in his loves, 'His eye still smiling, and his heart content.

'Then, hand in hand, Health, Sport, and Labour went.

'Nature supplied the wish she taught to crave.

'None prowled for prey, none watched to circ.u.mvent.

'To all an equal lot Heaven's bounty gave: 'No va.s.sal feared his lord, no tyrant feared his slave.

x.x.xVIII.

'But ah! the Historic Muse has never dared 'To pierce those hallowed bowers: 'tis Fancy's beam, 'Poured on the vision of the enraptured Bard, 'That paints the charms of that delicious theme.

'Then hail sweet Fancy's ray! and hail the dream 'That weans the weary soul from guilt and woe!

'Careless what others of my choice may deem, 'I long where Love and Fancy lead to go, 'And meditate on heaven; enough of earth I know.'

x.x.xIX.

'I cannot blame thy choice (the Sage replied), 'For soft and smooth are Fancy's flowery ways.

'And yet, even there, if left without a guide, 'The young adventurer unsafely plays.

'Eyes, dazzled long by Fiction's gaudy rays, 'In modest Truth no light nor beauty find.

'And who, my child, would trust the meteor-blaze, 'That soon must fail, and leave the wanderer blind, 'More dark and helpless far, than if it ne'er had shined?

XL.

'Fancy enervates, while it sooths, the heart, 'And, while it dazzles, wounds the mental sight: 'To joy each heightening charm it can impart, 'But wraps the hour of woe in tenfold night.

'And often, where no real ills affright, 'Its visionary fiends, an endless train, 'a.s.sail with equal or superior might, 'And through the throbbing heart, and dizzy brain, 'And shivering nerves, shoot stings of more than mortal pain.

XLI.

'And yet, alas! the real ills of life 'Claim the full vigour of a mind prepared; 'Prepared for patient, long, laborious strife, 'Its guide Experience, and Truth its guard.

'We fare on earth, as other men have fared: 'Were they successful? Let not us despair.

'Was disappointment oft their sole reward?

'Yet shall their tale instruct, if it declare, 'How they have borne the load ourselves are doomed to bear.

XLII.

'What charms the Historic Muse adorn, from spoils, 'And blood, and tyrants, when she wings her flight, 'To hail the patriot Prince, whose pious toils 'Sacred to science, liberty, and right, 'And peace, through every age divinely bright, 'Shall shine the boast and wonder of mankind!

'Sees yonder sun, from his meridian height, 'A lovelier scene, than Virtue thus inshrined 'In power, and man with man for mutual aid combine!

XLIII.

'Hail, sacred Polity, by Freedom reared!

'Hail, sacred Freedom, when by Law restrained!

'Without you what were man? A grovelling herd, 'In darkness, wretchedness, and want enchained.

'Sublimed by you, the Greek and Roman reigned 'In arts unrivalled: O, to latest days, 'In Albion may your influence, unprofaned, 'To G.o.dlike worth the generous bosom raise, 'And prompt the Sage's lore, and fire the Poet's lays.

XLIV.

'But now let other themes our care engage.

'For lo, with modest, yet majestic grace, 'To curb Imagination's lawless rage, 'And from within the cherished heart to brace, 'Philosophy appears. The gloomy race, 'By Indolence and moping Fancy bred, 'Fear, Discontent, Solicitude give place, 'And Hope and Courage brighten in their stead, 'While on the kindling soul her vital beams are shed.

XLV.

'Then waken from long lethargy to life 'The seeds of happiness, and powers of thought; 'Then jarring appet.i.tes forego their strife, 'A strife by ignorance to madness wrought.

'Pleasure by savage man is dearly bought 'With fell revenge, l.u.s.t that defies controul, 'With gluttony and death. The mind untaught, 'Is a dark waste, where fiends and tempests howl; 'As Phoebus to the world, is Science to the soul.

XLVI.

'And Reason, now, through Number, Time, and s.p.a.ce, 'Darts the keen l.u.s.tre of her serious eye, 'And learns, from facts compared, the laws to trace, 'Whose long progression leads to Deity.

'Can mortal strength presume to soar so high?

'Can mortal sight, so oft bedimmed with tears, 'Such glory bear?--for lo, the shadows fly 'From Nature's face; Confusion disappears, 'And order charms the eyes, and harmony the ears.

XLVII.

'In the deep windings of the grove, no more 'The hag obscene, and grisly phantom dwell; 'Nor in the fall of mountain-stream, or roar 'Of winds, is heard the angry spirit's yell; 'No wizard mutters the tremendous spell, 'Nor sinks convulsive in prophetic swoon; 'Nor bids the noise of drums and trumpets swell, 'To ease of fancied pangs the labouring moon, 'Or chace the shade that blots the blazing orb of noon.

XLVIII.

'Many a long lingering year, in lonely isle, 'Stunned with the eternal turbulence of waves, 'Lo, with dim eyes, that never learned to smile, 'And trembling hands, the famished native craves 'Of Heaven his wretched fare: shivering in caves, 'Or scorched on rocks, he pines from day to day; 'But Science gives the word; and lo, he braves 'The surge and tempest, lighted by her ray, 'And to a happier land wafts merrily away.

XLIX.

'And even where Nature loads the teeming plain 'With the full pomp of vegetable store, 'Her bounty, unimproved, is deadly bane: 'Dark woods and rankling wilds, from sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e, 'Stretch their enormous gloom; which, to explore, 'Even Fancy trembles, in her sprightliest mood; 'For there, each eyeball gleams with l.u.s.t of gore, 'Nestles each murderous and each monstrous brood, 'Plague lurks in every shade, and streams from every flood.

L.

'Twas from Philosophy man learned to tame 'The soil, by plenty to intemperance fed.

'Lo, from the echoing axe, and thundering flame, 'Poison, and plague, and yelling rage, are fled.

'The waters, bursting from their slimy bed, 'Bring health and melody to every vale: 'And, from the breezy main, and mountain's head, 'Ceres and Flora, to the sunny dale, 'To fan their glowing charms, invite the fluttering gale.

LI.

'What dire necessities, on every hand, 'Our art, our strength, our fort.i.tude, require!

'Of foes intestine, what a numerous band 'Against this little throb of life conspire!

'Yet Science can elude their fatal ire 'Awhile, and turn aside Death's levelled dart, 'Sooth the sharp pang, allay the fever's fire, 'And brace the nerves once more, and cheer the heart, 'And yet a few soft nights and balmy days impart.