The Poetical Works of Mark Akenside Part 10

How far unlike them must the lot of guilt Be found! Or what terrestrial woe can match The self-convicted bosom, which hath wrought The bane of others, or enslaved itself With shackles vile? Not poison, nor sharp fire, Nor the worst pangs that ever monkish hate Suggested, or despotic rage imposed, 400 Were at that season an unwish'd exchange, When the soul loathes herself; when, flying thence To crowds, on every brow she sees portray'd Pell demons, Hate or Scorn, which drive her back To solitude, her judge's voice divine To hear in secret, haply sounding through The troubled dreams of midnight, and still, still Demanding for his violated laws Fit recompense, or charging her own tongue To speak the award of justice on herself. 410 For well she knows what faithful hints within Were whisper'd, to beware the lying forms Which turn'd her footsteps from the safer way, What cautions to suspect their painted dress, And look with steady eyelid on their smiles, Their frowns, their tears. In vain; the dazzling hues Of Fancy, and Opinion's eager voice, Too much prevail'd. For mortals tread the path In which Opinion says they follow good Or fly from evil; and Opinion gives 420 Report of good or evil, as the scene Was drawn by Fancy, pleasing or deform'd; Thus her report can never there be true Where Fancy cheats the intellectual eye With glaring colours and distorted lines.

Is there a man to whom the name of death Brings terror's ghastly pageants conjured up Before him, death-bed groans, and dismal vows, And the frail soul plunged headlong from the brink Of life and daylight down the gloomy air, 430 An unknown depth, to gulfs of torturing fire Unvisited by mercy? Then what hand Can s.n.a.t.c.h this dreamer from the fatal toils Which Fancy and Opinion thus conspire To twine around his heart? Or who shall hush Their clamour, when they tell him that to die, To risk those horrors, is a direr curse Than basest life can bring? Though Love with prayers Most tender, with affliction's sacred tears, Beseech his aid; though Grat.i.tude and Faith 440 Condemn each step which loiters; yet let none Make answer for him that if any frown Of Danger thwart his path, he will not stay Content, and be a wretch to be secure.

Here Vice begins then: at the gate of life, Ere the young mult.i.tude to diverse roads Part, like fond pilgrims on a journey unknown, Sits Fancy, deep enchantress; and to each With kind maternal looks presents her bowl, A potent beverage. Heedless they comply, 450 Till the whole soul from that mysterious draught Is tinged, and every transient thought imbibes Of gladness or disgust, desire or fear, One homebred colour, which not all the lights Of Science e'er shall change; not all the storms Of adverse Fortune wash away, nor yet The robe of purest Virtue quite conceal.

Thence on they pa.s.s, where, meeting frequent shapes Of good and evil, cunning phantoms apt To fire or freeze the breast, with them they join 460 In dangerous parley; listening oft, and oft Gazing with reckless pa.s.sion, while its garb The spectre heightens, and its pompous tale Repeats, with some new circ.u.mstance to suit That early tincture of the hearer's soul.

And should the guardian, Reason, but for one Short moment yield to this illusive scene His ear and eye, the intoxicating charm Involves him, till no longer he discerns, Or only guides to err. Then revel forth 470 A furious band that spurn him from the throne, And all is uproar. Hence Ambition climbs With sliding feet and hands impure, to grasp Those solemn toys which glitter in his view On Fortune's rugged steep; hence pale Revenge Unsheaths her murderous dagger; Rapine hence And envious l.u.s.t, by venal fraud upborne, Surmount the reverend barrier of the laws Which kept them from their prey; hence all the crimes That e'er defiled the earth, and all the plagues 480 That follow them for vengeance, in the guise Of Honour, Safety, Pleasure, Ease, or Pomp, Stole first into the fond believing mind.

Yet not by Fancy's witchcraft on the brain Are always the tumultuous pa.s.sions driven To guilty deeds, nor Reason bound in chains That Vice alone may lord it. Oft, adorn'd With motley pageants, Folly mounts his throne, And plays her idiot antics, like a queen.

A thousand garbs she wears: a thousand ways 490 She whirls her giddy empire. Lo, thus far With bold adventure to the Mantuan lyre I sing for contemplation link'd with love, A pensive theme. Now haply should my song Unbend that serious countenance, and learn Thalia's tripping gait, her shrill-toned voice, Her wiles familiar: whether scorn she darts In wanton ambush from her lip or eye, Or whether, with a sad disguise of care O'ermantling her gay brow, she acts in sport 500 The deeds of Folly, and from all sides round Calls forth impetuous Laughter's gay rebuke; Her province. But through every comic scene To lead my Muse with her light pencil arm'd; Through every swift occasion which the hand Of Laughter points at, when the mirthful sting Distends her labouring sides and chokes her tongue, Were endless as to sound each grating note With which the rooks, and chattering daws, and grave Unwieldy inmates of the village pond, 510 The changing seasons of the sky proclaim; Sun, cloud, or shower. Suffice it to have said, Where'er the power of Ridicule displays Her quaint-eyed visage, some incongruous form, Some stubborn dissonance of things combined, Strikes on her quick perception: whether Pomp, Or Praise, or Beauty be dragg'd in and shewn Where sordid fashions, where ign.o.ble deeds, Where foul Deformity is wont to dwell; Or whether these with shrewd and wayward spite 520 Invade resplendent Pomp's imperious mien, The charms of Beauty, or the boast of Praise.

Ask we for what fair end the Almighty Sire In mortal bosoms stirs this gay contempt, These grateful pangs of laughter; from disgust Educing pleasure? Wherefore, but to aid The tardy steps of Reason, and at once By this prompt impulse urge us to depress Wild Folly's aims? For, though the sober light Of Truth slow dawning on the watchful mind 530 At length unfolds, through many a subtle tie, How these uncouth disorders end at last In public evil; yet benignant Heaven, Conscious how dim the dawn of Truth appears To thousands, conscious what a scanty pause From labour and from care the wider lot Of humble life affords for studious thought To scan the maze of Nature, therefore stamp'd These glaring scenes with characters of scorn, As broad, as obvious to the pa.s.sing clown 540 As to the letter'd sage's curious eye.

But other evils o'er the steps of man Through all his walks impend; against whose might The slender darts of Laughter nought avail: A trivial warfare. Some, like cruel guards, On Nature's ever-moving throne attend; With mischief arm'd for him whoe'er shall thwart The path of her inexorable wheels, While she pursues the work that must be done Through ocean, earth, and air. Hence, frequent forms 550 Of woe; the merchant, with his wealthy bark, Buried by dashing waves; the traveller, Pierced by the pointed lightning in his haste; And the poor husbandman, with folded arms, Surveying his lost labours, and a heap Of blasted chaff the product of the field Whence he expected bread. But worse than these, I deem far worse, that other race of ills Which human kind rear up among themselves; That horrid offspring which misgovern'd Will 560 Bears to fantastic Error; vices, crimes, Furies that curse the earth, and make the blows, The heaviest blows, of Nature's innocent hand Seem sport: which are indeed but as the care Of a wise parent, who solicits good To all her house, though haply at the price Of tears and froward wailing and reproach From some unthinking child, whom not the less Its mother destines to be happy still.

These sources then of pain, this double lot 570 Of evil in the inheritance of man, Required for his protection no slight force, No careless watch; and therefore was his breast Fenced round with pa.s.sions quick to be alarm'd, Or stubborn to oppose; with Fear, more swift Than beacons catching flame from hill to hill, Where armies land: with Anger, uncontroll'd As the young lion bounding on his prey; With Sorrow, that locks up the struggling heart; And Shame, that overcasts the drooping eye 580 As with a cloud of lightning. These the part Perform of eager monitors, and goad The soul more sharply than with points of steel, Her enemies to shun or to resist.

And as those pa.s.sions, that converse with good, Are good themselves; as Hope and Love and Joy, Among the fairest and the sweetest boons Of life, we rightly count: so these, which guard Against invading evil, still excite Some pain, some tumult; these, within the mind 590 Too oft admitted or too long retain'd, Shock their frail seat, and by their uncurb'd rage To savages more fell than Libya breeds Transform themselves, till human thought becomes A gloomy ruin, haunt of shapes unbless'd, Of self-tormenting fiends; Horror, Despair, Hatred, and wicked Envy: foes to all The works of Nature and the gifts of Heaven.

But when through blameless paths to righteous ends Those keener pa.s.sions urge the awaken'd soul, 600 I would not, as ungracious violence, Their sway describe, nor from their free career The fellowship of Pleasure quite exclude.

For what can render, to the self-approved, Their temper void of comfort, though in pain?

Who knows not with what majesty divine The forms of Truth and Justice to the mind Appear, enn.o.bling oft the sharpest woe With triumph and rejoicing? Who, that bears A human bosom, hath not often felt 610 How dear are all those ties which bind our race In gentleness together, and how sweet Their force, let Fortune's wayward hand the while Be kind or cruel? Ask the faithful youth, Why the cold urn of her whom long he loved So often fills his arms; so often draws His lonely footsteps, silent and unseen, To pay the mournful tribute of his tears?

Oh! he will tell thee that the wealth of worlds Should ne'er seduce his bosom to forego 620 Those sacred hours when, stealing from the noise Of care and envy, sweet remembrance soothes With Virtue's kindest looks his aching breast, And turns his tears to rapture. Ask the crowd, Which flies impatient from the village walk To climb the neighbouring cliffs, when far below The savage winds have hurl'd upon the coast Some helpless bark; while holy Pity melts The general eye, or Terror's icy hand Smites their distorted limbs and horrent hair; 630 While every mother closer to her breast Catcheth her child, and, pointing where the waves Foam through the shatter'd vessel, shrieks aloud As one poor wretch, who spreads his piteous arms For succour, swallow'd by the roaring surge, As now another, dash'd against the rock, Drops lifeless down. Oh! deemest thou indeed No pleasing influence here by Nature given To mutual terror and compa.s.sion's tears?

No tender charm mysterious, which attracts 640 O'er all that edge of pain the social powers To this their proper action and their end?

Ask thy own heart; when at the midnight hour, Slow through that pensive gloom thy pausing eye, Led by the glimmering taper, moves around The reverend volumes of the dead, the songs Of Grecian bards, and records writ by fame For Grecian heroes, where the sovereign Power Of heaven and earth surveys the immortal page, Even as a father meditating all 650 The praises of his son, and bids the rest Of mankind there the fairest model learn Of their own nature, and the n.o.blest deeds Which yet the world hath seen. If then thy soul Join in the lot of those diviner men; Say, when the prospect darkens on thy view; When, sunk by many a wound, heroic states Mourn in the dust and tremble at the frown Of hard Ambition; when the generous band Of youths who fought for freedom and their sires 660 Lie side by side in death; when brutal Force Usurps the throne of Justice, turns the pomp Of guardian power, the majesty of rule, The sword, the laurel, and the purple robe, To poor dishonest pageants, to adorn A robber's walk, and glitter in the eyes Of such as bow the knee; when beauteous works, Rewards of virtue, sculptured forms which deck'd With more than human grace the warrior's arch, Or patriot's tomb, now victims to appease 670 Tyrannic envy, strew the common path With awful ruins; when the Muse's haunt, The marble porch where Wisdom wont to talk With Socrates or Tully, hears no more Save the hoa.r.s.e jargon of contentious monks, Or female Superst.i.tion's midnight prayer; When ruthless Havoc from the hand of Time Tears the destroying scythe, with surer stroke To mow the monuments of Glory down; Till Desolation o'er the gra.s.s-grown street 680 Expands her raven wings, and, from the gate Where senates once the weal of nations plann'd, Hisseth the gliding snake through h.o.a.ry weeds That clasp the mouldering column: thus when all The widely-mournful scene is fix'd within Thy throbbing bosom; when the patriot's tear Starts from thine eye, and thy extended arm In fancy hurls the thunderbolt of Jove To fire the impious wreath on Philip's brow, Or dash Octavius from the trophied car; 690 Say, doth thy secret soul repine to taste The big distress? Or wouldst thou then exchange Those heart-enn.o.bling sorrows for the lot Of him who sits amid the gaudy herd Of silent flatterers bending to his nod; And o'er them, like a giant, casts his eye, And says within himself, 'I am a King, And wherefore should the clamorous voice of woe Intrude upon mine ear?' The dregs corrupt Of barbarous ages, that Circaean draught 700 Of servitude and folly, have not yet, Bless'd be the Eternal Ruler of the world!

Yet have not so dishonour'd, so deform'd The native judgment of the human soul, Nor so effaced the image of her Sire.

BOOK III. 1770.

What tongue then may explain the various fate Which reigns o'er earth? or who to mortal eyes Ill.u.s.trate this perplexing labyrinth Of joy and woe, through which the feet of man Are doom'd to wander? That Eternal Mind From pa.s.sions, wants, and envy far estranged, Who built the s.p.a.cious universe, and deck'd Each part so richly with whate'er pertains To life, to health, to pleasure, why bade he The viper Evil, creeping in, pollute 10 The goodly scene, and with insidious rage, While the poor inmate looks around and smiles Dart her fell sting with poison to his soul?

Hard is the question, and from ancient days Hath still oppress'd with care the sage's thought; Hath drawn forth accents from the poet's lyre Too sad, too deeply plaintive; nor did e'er Those chiefs of human kind, from whom the light Of heavenly truth first gleam'd on barbarous lands, Forget this dreadful secret when they told 20 What wondrous things had to their favour'd eyes And ears on cloudy mountain been reveal'd, Or in deep cave by nymph or power divine, Portentous oft, and wild. Yet one I know.

Could I the speech of lawgivers a.s.sume, One old and splendid tale I would record, With which the Muse of Solon in sweet strains Adorn'd this theme profound, and render'd all Its darkness, all its terrors, bright as noon, Or gentle as the golden star of eve. 30 Who knows not Solon,--last, and wisest far, Of those whom Greece, triumphant in the height Of glory, styled her fathers,--him whose voice Through Athens hush'd the storm of civil wrath; Taught envious Want and cruel Wealth to join In friendship; and, with sweet compulsion, tamed Minerva's eager people to his laws, Which their own G.o.ddess in his breast inspired?

'Twas now the time when his heroic task Seem'd but perform'd in vain; when, soothed by years 40 Of flattering service, the fond mult.i.tude Hung with their sudden counsels on the breath Of great Pisistratus, that chief renown'd, Whom Hermes and the Idalian queen had train'd, Even from his birth, to every powerful art Of pleasing and persuading; from whose lips Flow'd eloquence which, like the vows of love, Could steal away suspicion from the hearts Of all who listen'd. Thus from day to day He won the general suffrage, and beheld 50 Each rival overshadow'd and depress'd Beneath his ampler state; yet oft complain'd, As one less kindly treated, who had hoped To merit favour, but submits perforce To find another's services preferr'd, Nor yet relaxeth aught of faith or zeal.

Then tales were scatter'd of his envious foes, Of snares that watch'd his fame, of daggers aim'd Against his life. At last, with trembling limbs, His hair diffused and wild, his garments loose, 60 And stain'd with blood from self-inflicted wounds, He burst into the public place, as there, There only, were his refuge; and declared In broken words, with sighs of deep regret, The mortal danger he had scarce repell'd.

Fired with his tragic tale, the indignant crowd, To guard his steps, forthwith a menial band, Array'd beneath his eye for deeds of war, Decree. Oh! still too liberal of their trust, And oft betray'd by over-grateful love, 70 The generous people! Now behold him fenced By mercenary weapons, like a king, Forth issuing from the city-gate at eve To seek his rural mansion, and with pomp Crowding the public road. The swain stops short, And sighs; the officious townsmen stand at gaze, And shrinking give the sullen pageant room.

Yet not the less obsequious was his brow; Nor less profuse of courteous words his tongue, Of gracious gifts his hand; the while by stealth, 80 Like a small torrent fed with evening showers, His train increased; till, at that fatal time Just as the public eye, with doubt and shame Startled, began to question what it saw, Swift as the sound of earthquakes rush'd a voice Through Athens, that Pisistratus had fill'd The rocky citadel with hostile arms, Had barr'd the steep ascent, and sate within Amid his hirelings, meditating death To all whose stubborn necks his yoke refused. 90 Where then was Solon? After ten long years Of absence, full of haste from foreign sh.o.r.es, The sage, the lawgiver had now arrived: Arrived, alas! to see that Athens, that Fair temple raised by him and sacred call'd To Liberty and Concord, now profaned By savage hate, or sunk into a den Of slaves who crouch beneath the master's scourge, And deprecate his wrath, and court his chains.

Yet did not the wise patriot's grief impede 100 His virtuous will, nor was his heart inclined One moment with such woman-like distress To view the transient storms of civil war, As thence to yield his country and her hopes To all-devouring bondage. His bright helm, Even while the traitor's impious act is told, He buckles on his h.o.a.ry head; he girds With mail his stooping breast; the shield, the spear He s.n.a.t.c.heth; and with swift indignant strides The a.s.sembled people seeks; proclaims aloud 110 It was no time for counsel; in their spears Lay all their prudence now; the tyrant yet Was not so firmly seated on his throne, But that one shock of their united force Would dash him from the summit of his pride, Headlong and grovelling in the dust. 'What else Can rea.s.sert the lost Athenian name, So cheaply to the laughter of the world Betray'd; by guile beneath an infant's faith So mock'd and scorn'd? Away, then: Freedom now 120 And Safety dwell not but with Fame in arms; Myself will shew you where their mansion lies, And through the walks of Danger or of Death Conduct you to them.'--While he spake, through all Their crowded ranks his quick sagacious eye He darted; where no cheerful voice was heard Of social daring; no stretch'd arm was seen Hastening their common task: but pale mistrust Wrinkled each brow; they shook their head, and down Their slack hands hung; cold sighs and whisper'd doubts 130 From breath to breath stole round. The sage meantime Look'd speechless on, while his big bosom heaved, Struggling with shame and sorrow, till at last A tear broke forth; and, 'O immortal shades, O Theseus,' he exclaim'd, 'O Codrus, where, Where are ye now behold for what ye toil'd Through life! behold for whom ye chose to die!'

No more he added; but with lonely steps Weary and slow, his silver beard depress'd, And his stern eyes bent heedless on the ground, 140 Back to his silent dwelling he repair'd.

There o'er the gate, his armour, as a man Whom from the service of the war his chief Dismisseth after no inglorious toil, He fix'd in general view. One wishful look He sent, unconscious, toward the public place At parting; then beneath his quiet roof Without a word, without a sigh, retired.

Scarce had the morrow's sun his golden rays From sweet Hymettus darted o'er the fanes 150 Of Cecrops to the Salaminian sh.o.r.es, When, lo, on Solon's threshold met the feet Of four Athenians, by the same sad care Conducted all, than whom the state beheld None n.o.bler. First came Megacles, the son Of great Alcmaeon, whom the Lydian king, The mild, unhappy Croesus, in his days Of glory had with costly gifts adorn'd, Fair vessels, splendid garments, tinctured webs And heaps of treasured gold, beyond the lot 160 Of many sovereigns; thus requiting well That hospitable favour which erewhile Alcmaeon to his messengers had shown, Whom he, with offerings worthy of the G.o.d, Sent from his throne in Sardis, to revere Apollo's Delphic shrine. With Megacles Approach'd his son, whom Agarista bore, The virtuous child of Clistheues, whose hand Of Grecian sceptres the most ancient far In Sicyon sway'd: but greater fame he drew 170 From arms controll'd by justice, from the love Of the wise Muses, and the unenvied wreath Which glad Olympia gave. For thither once His warlike steeds the hero led, and there Contended through the tumult of the course With skilful wheels. Then victor at the goal, Amid the applauses of a.s.sembled Greece, High on his car he stood and waved his arm.

Silence ensued: when straight the herald's voice Was heard, inviting every Grecian youth, 180 Whom Clisthenes content might call his son, To visit, ere twice thirty days were pa.s.s'd, The towers of Sicyon. There the chief decreed, Within the circuit of the following year, To join at Hymen's altar, hand in hand With his fair daughter, him among the guests Whom worthiest he should deem. Forthwith from all The bounds of Greece the ambitious wooers came: From rich Hesperia; from the Illyrian sh.o.r.e, Where Epid.a.m.nus over Adria's surge 190 Looks on the setting sun; from those brave tribes Chaonian or Molossian, whom the race Of great Achilles governs, glorying still In Troy o'erthrown; from rough Aetolia, nurse Of men who first among the Greeks threw off The yoke of kings, to commerce and to arms Devoted; from Thessalia's fertile meads, Where flows Peneus near the lofty walls Of Cranon old; from strong Eretria, queen Of all Euboean cities, who, sublime 200 On the steep margin of Euripus, views Across the tide the Marathonian plain, Not yet the haunt of glory. Athens too, Minerva's care, among her graceful sons Found equal lovers for the princely maid: Nor was proud Argos wanting; nor the domes Of sacred Elis; nor the Arcadian groves That overshade Alpheus, echoing oft Some shepherd's song. But through the ill.u.s.trious band Was none who might with Megacles compare 210 In all the honours of unblemish'd youth.

His was the beauteous bride; and now their son, Young Clisthenes, betimes, at Solon's gate Stood anxious; leaning forward on the arm Of his great sire, with earnest eyes that ask'd When the slow hinge would turn, with restless feet, And cheeks now pale, now glowing; for his heart Throbb'd full of bursting pa.s.sions, anger, grief With scorn imbitter'd, by the generous boy Scarce understood, but which, like n.o.ble seeds, 220 Are destined for his country and himself In riper years to bring forth fruits divine Of liberty and glory. Next appear'd Two brave companions, whom one mother bore To different lords; but whom the better ties Of firm esteem and friendship render'd more Than brothers: first Miltiades, who drew From G.o.dlike aeacus his ancient line; That aeacus whose unimpeach'd renown For sanct.i.ty and justice won the lyre 230 Of elder bards to celebrate him throned In Hades o'er the dead, where his decrees The guilty soul within the burning gates Of Tartarus compel, or send the good To inhabit with eternal health and peace The valleys of Elysium. From a stem So sacred, ne'er could worthier scion spring Than this Miltiades; whose aid ere long The chiefs of Thrace, already on their ways, Sent by the inspired foreknowing maid who sits 240 Upon the Delphic tripod, shall implore To wield their sceptre, and the rural wealth Of fruitful Chersonesus to protect With arms and laws. But, nothing careful now Save for his injured country, here he stands In deep solicitude with Cimon join'd: Unconscious both what widely different lots Await them, taught by nature as they are To know one common good, one common ill.

For Cimon, not his valour, not his birth 250 Derived from Codrus, not a thousand gifts Dealt round him with a wise, benignant hand; No, not the Olympic olive, by himself From his own brow transferr'd to soothe the mind Of this Pisistratus, can long preserve From the fell envy of the tyrant's sons, And their a.s.sa.s.sin dagger. But if death Obscure upon his gentle steps attend, Yet fate an ample recompense prepares In his victorious son, that other great 260 Miltiades, who o'er the very throne Of Glory shall with Time's a.s.siduous hand In adamantine characters engrave The name of Athens; and, by Freedom arm'd 'Gainst the gigantic pride of Asia's king, Shall all the achievements of the heroes old Surmount, of Hercules, of all who sail'd From Thessaly with Jason, all who fought For empire or for fame at Thebes or Troy.

Such were the patriots who within the porch 270 Of Solon had a.s.sembled. But the gate Now opens, and across the ample floor Straight they proceed into an open s.p.a.ce Bright with the beams of morn: a verdant spot, Where stands a rural altar, piled with sods Cut from the gra.s.sy turf and girt with wreaths, Of branching palm. Here Solon's self they found Clad in a robe of purple pure, and deck'd With leaves of olive on his reverend brow.

He bow'd before the altar, and o'er cakes 280 Of barley from two earthen vessels pour'd Of honey and of milk a plenteous stream; Calling meantime the Muses to accept His simple offering, by no victim tinged With blood, nor sullied by destroying fire, But such as for himself Apollo claims In his own Delos, where his favourite haunt Is thence the Altar of the Pious named.

Unseen the guests drew near, and silent view'd That worship; till the hero-priest his eye 290 Turn'd toward a seat on which prepared there lay A branch of laurel. Then his friends confess'd Before him stood. Backward his step he drew, As loath that care or tumult should approach Those early rites divine; but soon their looks, So anxious, and their hands, held forth with such Desponding gesture, bring him on perforce To speak to their affliction. 'Are ye come,'

He cried, 'to mourn with me this common shame?

Or ask ye some new effort which may break 300 Our fetters? Know then, of the public cause Not for yon traitor's cunning or his might Do I despair; nor could I wish from Jove Aught dearer, than at this late hour of life, As once by laws, so now by strenuous arms, From impious violation to a.s.sert The rights our fathers left us. But, alas!

What arms? or who shall wield them? Ye beheld The Athenian people. Many bitter days Must pa.s.s, and many wounds from cruel pride 310 Be felt, ere yet their partial hearts find room For just resentment, or their hands indure To smite this tyrant brood, so near to all Their hopes, so oft admired, so long beloved.

That time will come, however. Be it yours To watch its fair approach, and urge it on With honest prudence; me it ill beseems Again to supplicate the unwilling crowd To rescue from a vile deceiver's hold That envied power, which once with eager zeal 320 They offer'd to myself; nor can I plunge In counsels deep and various, nor prepare For distant wars, thus faltering as I tread On life's last verge, ere long to join the shades Of Minos and Lycurgus. But behold What care employs me now. My vows I pay To the sweet Muses, teachers of my youth And solace of my age. If right I deem Of the still voice that whispers at my heart, The immortal sisters have not quite withdrawn 330 Their old harmonious influence. Let your tongues With sacred silence favour what I speak, And haply shall my faithful lips be taught To unfold celestial counsels, which may arm, As with impenetrable steel your b.r.e.a.s.t.s, For the long strife before you, and repel The darts of adverse fate.'--He said, and s.n.a.t.c.h'd The laurel bough, and sate in silence down, Fix'd, wrapp'd in solemn musing, full before The sun, who now from all his radiant orb 340 Drove the gray clouds, and pour'd his genial light Upon the breast of Solon. Solon raised Aloft the leafy rod, and thus began:--

'Ye beauteous offspring of Olympian Jove And Memory divine, Pierian maids, Hear me, propitious. In the morn of life, When hope shone bright and all the prospect smiled, To your sequester'd mansion oft my steps Were turn'd, O Muses, and within your gate My offerings paid. Ye taught me then with strains 350 Of flowing harmony to soften war's Dire voice, or in fair colours, that might charm The public eye, to clothe the form austere Of civil counsel. Now my feeble age, Neglected, and supplanted of the hope On which it lean'd, yet sinks not, but to you, To your mild wisdom flies, refuge beloved Of solitude and silence. Ye can teach The visions of my bed whate'er the G.o.ds In the rude ages of the world inspired, 360 Or the first heroes acted; ye can make The morning light more gladsome to my sense Than ever it appear'd to active youth Pursuing careless pleasure; ye can give To this long leisure, these unheeded hours, A labour as sublime, as when the sons Of Athens throng'd and speechless round me stood, To hear p.r.o.nounced for all their future deeds The bounds of right and wrong. Celestial powers!

I feel that ye are near me: and behold, 370 To meet your energy divine, I bring A high and sacred theme; not less than those Which to the eternal custody of Fame Your lips intrusted, when of old ye deign'd With Orpheus or with Homer to frequent The groves of Haemus or the Chian sh.o.r.e.

'Ye know, harmonious maids, (for what of all My various life was e'er from you estranged?) Oft hath my solitary song to you Reveal'd that duteous pride which turn'd my steps 380 To willing exile; earnest to withdraw From envy and the disappointed thirst Of lucre, lest the bold familiar strife, Which in the eye of Athens they upheld Against her legislator, should impair With trivial doubt the reverence of his laws.

To Egypt therefore through the aegean isles My course I steer'd, and by the banks of Nile Dwelt in Canopus. Thence the hallow'd domes Of Sals, and the rites to Isis paid, 390 I sought, and in her temple's silent courts, Through many changing moons, attentive heard The venerable Sonchis, while his tongue At morn or midnight the deep story told Of her who represents whate'er has been, Or is, or shall be; whose mysterious veil No mortal hand hath ever yet removed.

By him exhorted, southward to the walls Of On I pa.s.s'd, the city of the sun, The ever-youthful G.o.d. Twas there, amid 400 His priests and sages, who the livelong night Watch the dread movements of the starry sphere, Or who in wondrous fables half disclose The secrets of the elements, 'twas there That great Paenophis taught my raptured ears The fame of old Atlantis, of her chiefs, And her pure laws, the first which earth obey'd.

Deep in my bosom sunk the n.o.ble tale; And often, while I listen'd, did my mind Foretell with what delight her own free lyre 410 Should sometime for an Attic audience raise Anew that lofty scene, and from their tombs Call forth those ancient demiG.o.ds, to speak Of Justice and the hidden Providence That walks among mankind. But yet meantime The mystic pomp of Ammon's gloomy sons Became less pleasing. With contempt I gazed On that tame garb and those unvarying paths, To which the double yoke of king and priest Had cramp'd the sullen race. At last, with hymns 420 Invoking our own Pallas and the G.o.ds Of cheerful Greece, a glad farewell I gave To Egypt, and before the southern wind Spread my full sails. What climes I then survey'd, What fortunes I encounter'd in the realm Of Croesus or upon the Cyprian sh.o.r.e, The Muse, who prompts my bosom, doth not now Consent that I reveal. But when at length Ten times the sun returning from the south Had strow'd with flowers the verdant earth, and fill'd 430 The groves with music, pleased I then beheld The term of those long errors drawing nigh.

Nor yet, I said, will I sit down within The walls of Athens, till my feet have trod The Cretan soil, have pierced those reverend haunts Whence Law and Civil Concord issued forth As from their ancient home, and still to Greece Their wisest, loftiest discipline proclaim.

Straight where Amnisus, mart of wealthy ships, Appears beneath famed Cnossus and her towers, 440 Like the fair handmaid of a stately queen, I check'd my prow, and thence with eager steps The city of Minos enter'd. O ye G.o.ds, Who taught the leaders of the simpler time By written words to curb the untoward will Of mortals, how within that generous isle Have ye the triumphs of your power display'd Munificent! Those splendid merchants, lords Of traffic and the sea, with what delight I saw them, at their public meal, like sons 450 Of the same household, join the plainer sort Whose wealth was only freedom! whence to these Vile envy, and to those fantastic pride, Alike was strange; but n.o.ble concord still Cherish'd the strength untamed, the rustic faith, Of their first fathers. Then the growing race, How pleasing to behold them in their schools, Their sports, their labours, ever placed within, O shade of Minos! thy controlling eye.

Here was a docile band in tuneful tones 460 Thy laws p.r.o.nouncing, or with lofty hymns Praising the bounteous G.o.ds, or, to preserve Their country's heroes from oblivious night, Resounding what the Muse inspired of old; There, on the verge of manhood, others met, In heavy armour through the heats of noon To march, the rugged mountain's height to climb With measured swiftness, from the hard-bent bow To send resistless arrows to their mark, Or for the fame of prowess to contend, 470 Now wrestling, now with fists and staves opposed, Now with the biting falchion, and the fence Of brazen shields; while still the warbling flute Presided o'er the combat, breathing strains Grave, solemn, soft; and changing headlong spite To thoughtful resolution cool and clear.

Such I beheld those islanders renown'd, So tutor'd from their birth to meet in war Each bold invader, and in peace to guard That living flame of reverence for their laws, 480 Which nor the storms of fortune, nor the flood Of foreign wealth diffused o'er all the land, Could quench or slacken. First of human names In every Cretan's heart was Minos still; And holiest far, of what the sun surveys Through his whole course, were those primeval seats Which with religious footsteps he had taught Their sires to approach; the wild Dictaean cave Where Jove was born: the ever verdant meads Of Ida, and the s.p.a.cious grotto, where 490 His active youth he pa.s.s'd, and where his throne Yet stands mysterious; whither Minos came Each ninth returning year, the king of G.o.ds And mortals there in secret to consult On justice, and the tables of his law To inscribe anew. Oft also with like zeal Great Rhea's mansion from the Cnossian gates Men visit; nor less oft the antique fane Built on that sacred spot, along the banks Of shady Theron, where benignant Jove 500 And his majestic consort join'd their hands And spoke their nuptial vows. Alas, 'twas there That the dire fame of Athens sunk in bonds I first received; what time an annual feast Had summon'd all the genial country round, By sacrifice and pomp to bring to mind That first great spousal; while the enamour'd youths And virgins, with the priest before the shrine, Observe the same pure ritual, and invoke The same glad omens. There, among the crowd 510 Of strangers from those naval cities drawn Which deck, like gems, the island's northern sh.o.r.e, A merchant of aegina I descried, My ancient host; but, forward as I sprung To meet him, he, with dark dejected brow, Stopp'd half averse; and, "O Athenian guest,"

He said, "art thou in Crete, these joyful rites Partaking? Know thy laws are blotted out: Thy country kneels before a tyrant's throne."

He added names of men, with hostile deeds 520 Disastrous; which obscure and indistinct I heard: for, while he spake, my heart grew cold And my eyes dim; the altars and their train No more were present to me; how I fared, Or whither turn'd, I know not; nor recall Aught of those moments, other than the sense Of one who struggles in oppressive sleep, And, from the toils of some distressful dream To break away, with palpitating heart, Weak limbs, and temples bathed in death-like dew, 530 Makes many a painful effort. When at last The sun and nature's face again appear'd, Not far I found me, where the public path, Winding through cypress groves and swelling meads, From Cnossus to the cave of Jove ascends.

Heedless I follow'd on; till soon the skirts Of Ida rose before me, and the vault Wide opening pierced the mountain's rocky side.

Entering within the threshold, on the ground I flung me, sad, faint, overworn with toil.' 540

THE BEGINNING OF THE FOURTH BOOK OF THE PLEASURES OF THE IMAGINATION, 1770.

One effort more, one cheerful sally more, Our destined course will finish; and in peace Then, for an offering sacred to the powers Who lent us gracious guidance, we will then Inscribe a monument of deathless praise, O my adventurous song! With steady speed Long hast thou, on an untried voyage bound, Sail'd between earth and heaven: hast now survey'd, Stretch'd out beneath thee, all the mazy tracts Of Pa.s.sion and Opinion; like a waste 10 Of sands and flowery lawns and tangling woods, Where mortals roam bewilder'd: and hast now Exulting soar'd among the worlds above, Or hover'd near the eternal gates of heaven, If haply the discourses of the G.o.ds, A curious, but an unpresuming guest, Thou mightst partake, and carry back some strain Of divine wisdom, lawful to repeat, And apt to be conceived of man below.

A different task remains; the secret paths 20 Of early genius to explore: to trace Those haunts where Fancy her predestined sons, Like to the demiG.o.ds of old, doth nurse Remote from eyes profane. Ye happy souls Who now her tender discipline obey, Where dwell ye? What wild river's brink at eve Imprint your steps? What solemn groves at noon Use ye to visit, often breaking forth In rapture 'mid your dilatory walk, Or musing, as in slumber, on the green?-- 30 Would I again were with you!-O ye dales Of Tyne, and ye most ancient woodlands; where, Oft as the giant flood obliquely strides, And his banks open, and his lawns extend, Stops short the pleased traveller to view Presiding o'er the scene some rustic tower Founded by Norman or by Saxon hands: O ye Northumbrian shades, which overlook The rocky pavement and the mossy falls Of solitary Wensbeck's limpid stream; 40 How gladly I recall your well-known seats Beloved of old, and that delightful time When all alone, for many a summer's day, I wander'd through your calm recesses, led In silence by some powerful hand unseen.

Nor will I e'er forget you; nor shall e'er The graver tasks of manhood, or the advice Of vulgar wisdom, move me to disclaim Those studies which possess'd me in the dawn Of life, and fix'd the colour of my mind 50 For every future year: whence even now From sleep I rescue the clear hours of morn, And, while the world around lies overwhelm'd In idle darkness, am alive to thoughts Of honourable fame, of truth divine Or moral, and of minds to virtue won By the sweet magic of harmonious verse; The themes which now expect us. For thus far On general habits, and on arts which grow Spontaneous in the minds of all mankind, 60 Hath dwelt our argument; and how, self-taught, Though seldom conscious of their own employ, In Nature's or in Fortune's changeful scene Men learn to judge of Beauty, and acquire Those forms set up, as idols in the soul For love and zealous praise. Yet indistinct, In vulgar bosoms, and unnoticed lie These pleasing stores, unless the casual force Of things external prompt the heedless mind To recognise her wealth. But some there are 70 Conscious of Nature, and the rule which man O'er Nature holds; some who, within themselves Retiring from the trivial scenes of chance And momentary pa.s.sion, can at will Call up these fair exemplars of the mind; Review their features; scan the secret laws Which bind them to each other: and display By forms, or sounds, or colours, to the sense Of all the world their latent charms display; Even as in Nature's frame (if such a word, 80 If such a word, so bold, may from the lips Of man proceed) as in this outward frame Of things, the great Artificer portrays His own immense idea. Various names These among mortals bear, as various signs They use, and by peculiar organs speak To human sense. There are who, by the flight Of air through tubes with moving stops distinct, Or by extended chords in measure taught To vibrate, can a.s.semble powerful sounds 90 Expressing every temper of the mind From every cause, and charming all the soul With pa.s.sion void of care. Others mean time The rugged ma.s.s of metal, wood, or stone, Patiently taming; or with easier hand Describing lines, and with more ample scope Uniting colours; can to general sight Produce those permanent and perfect forms, Those characters of heroes and of G.o.ds, Which from the crude materials of the world, 100 Their own high minds created. But the chief Are poets; eloquent men, who dwell on earth To clothe whate'er the soul admires or loves With language and with numbers. Hence to these A field is open'd wide as Nature's sphere; Nay, wider: various as the sudden acts Of human wit, and vast as the demands Of human will. The bard nor length, nor depth, Nor place, nor form controls. To eyes, to ears, To every organ of the copious mind, 110 He offereth all its treasures. Him the hours, The seasons him obey, and changeful Time Sees him at will keep measure with his flight, At will outstrip it. To enhance his toil, He summoneth, from the uttermost extent Of things which G.o.d hath taught him, every form Auxiliar, every power; and all beside Excludes imperious. His prevailing hand Gives, to corporeal essence, life and sense And every stately function of the soul. 120 The soul itself to him obsequious lies, Like matter's pa.s.sive heap; and as he wills, To reason and affection he a.s.signs Their just alliances, their just degrees: Whence his peculiar honours; whence the race Of men who people his delightful world, Men genuine and according to themselves, Transcend as far the uncertain sons of earth, As earth itself to his delightful world, The palm of spotless Beauty doth resign. 130

ODES ON SEVERAL SUBJECTS, IN TWO BOOKS.

BOOK I.

ODE I.

PREFACE.

1 Off yonder verdant hillock laid, Where oaks and elms, a friendly shade, O'erlook the falling stream, O master of the Latin lyre, A while with thee will I retire From summer's noontide beam.