The Poetical Works of Mark Akenside Part 27

INSCRIPTIONS.

I.

FOR A GROTTO.

To me, whom in their lays the shepherds call Actaea, daughter of the neighbouring stream, This cave belongs. The fig-tree and the vine, Which o'er the rocky entrance downward shoot, Were placed by Glycou. He with cowslips pale, Primrose, and purple lychnis, deck'd the green Before my threshold, and my shelving walls With honeysuckle cover'd. Here at noon, Lull'd by the murmur of my rising fount, I slumber; here my cl.u.s.tering fruits I tend; Or from the humid flowers, at break of day, Fresh garlands weave, and chase from all my bounds Each thing impure or noxious. Enter in, O stranger, undismay'd. Nor bat, nor toad Here lurks; and if thy breast of blameless thoughts Approve thee, not unwelcome shalt thou tread My quiet mansion; chiefly, if thy name Wise Pallas and the immortal Muses own.

II.

FOR A STATUE OF CHAUCER AT WOODSTOCK.

Such was old Chaucer; such the placid mien Of him who first with harmony inform'd The language of our fathers. Here he dwelt For many a cheerful day. These ancient walls Have often heard him, while his legends blithe He sang; of love, or knighthood, or the wiles Of homely life; through each estate and age, The fashions and the follies of the world With cunning hand portraying. Though perchance From Blenheim's towers, O stranger, thou art come Glowing with Churchill's trophies; yet in vain Dost thou applaud them if thy breast be cold To him, this other hero; who, in times Dark and untaught, began with charming verse To tame the rudeness of his native land.

III.

Whoe'er thou art whose path in summer lies Through yonder village, turn thee where the grove Of branching oaks a rural palace old Embosoms. There dwells Albert, generous lord Of all the harvest round. And onward thence A low plain chapel fronts the morning light Fast by a silent rivulet. Humbly walk, O stranger, o'er the consecrated ground; And on that verdant hillock, which thou seest Beset with osiers, let thy pious hand Sprinkle fresh water from the brook, and strew Sweet-smelling flowers. For there doth Edmund rest, The learned shepherd; for each rural art Famed, and for songs harmonious, and the woes Of ill-requited love. The faithless pride Of fair Matilda sank him to the grave In manhood's prime. But soon did righteous Heaven, With tears, with sharp remorse, and pining care, Avenge her falsehood. Nor could all the gold And nuptial pomp, which lured her plighted faith From Edmund to a loftier husband's home, Relieve her breaking heart, or turn aside The strokes of death. Go, traveller; relate The mournful story. Haply some fair maid May hold it in remembrance, and be taught That riches cannot pay for truth or love.

IV.

O youths and virgins: O declining eld: O pale misfortune's slaves: O ye who dwell Unknown with humble quiet; ye who wait In courts, or fill the golden seat of kings: O sons of sport and pleasure: O thou wretch That weep'st for jealous love, or the sore wounds Of conscious guilt, or death's rapacious hand Which left thee void of hope: O ye who roam In exile; ye who through the embattled field Seek bright renown; or who for n.o.bler palms Contend, the leaders of a public cause; Approach: behold this marble. Know ye not The features'? Hath not oft his faithful tongue Told you the fashion of your own estate, The secrets of your bosom? Here then, round His monument with reverence while ye stand, Say to each other:-'This was Shakspeare's form; Who walk'd in every path of human life, Felt every pa.s.sion; and to all mankind Doth now, will ever, that experience yield Which his own genius only could acquire.'

V.

GVLIELMVS III. FORTIS, PIVS, LIBERATOR, CVM INEVNTE AETATE PATRIAE LABENTI ADFVISSET SALTS IPSE VNICA; CVM MOX ITIDEM REIPVBLICAE BRITANNICAE VINDEX RENVNCIATVS ESSET ATQVE STATOR; TVM DENIQVE AD ID SE NATVM RECOGNOVIT ET REGEM FACTVM, VT CVRARET NE DOMINO IMPOTENTI CEDERENT PAX, FIDES, FORTVNA, GENERIS HVMANI. AVCTORI PVBLICAE FELICITATIS P.G. A.M. A.

VI.

FOR A COLUMN AT RUNNYMEDE.

Thou, who the verdant plain dost traverse here, While Thames among his willows from thy view Retires; O stranger, stay thee, and the scene Around contemplate well. This is the place Where England's ancient barons, clad in arms And stern with conquest, from their tyrant king (Then render'd tame) did challenge and secure The charter of thy freedom. Pa.s.s not on Till thou hast bless'd their memory, and paid Those thanks which G.o.d appointed the reward Of public virtue. And if chance thy home Salute thee with a father's honour'd name, Go, call thy sons; instruct them what a debt They owe their ancestors; and make them swear To pay it, by transmitting down entire Those sacred rights to which themselves were born.

VII.

THE WOOD NYMPH.

Approach in silence. 'Tis no vulgar tale Which I, the Dryad of this h.o.a.ry oak, p.r.o.nounce to mortal ears. The second age Now hasteneth to its period, since I rose On this fair lawn. The groves of yonder vale Are all my offspring: and each Nymph who guards The copses and the furrow'd fields beyond, Obeys me. Many changes have I seen In human things, and many awful deeds Of justice, when the ruling hand of Jove Against the tyrants of the land, against The unhallow'd sons of luxury and guile, Was arm'd for retribution. Thus at length Expert in laws divine, I know the paths Of wisdom, and erroneous folly's end Have oft presaged; and now well-pleased I wait Each evening till a n.o.ble youth, who loves My shade, a while released from public cares, Yon peaceful gate shall enter, and sit down Beneath my branches. Then his musing mind I prompt, unseen; and place before his view Sincerest forms of good; and move his heart With the dread bounties of the Sire Supreme Of G.o.ds and men, with freedom's generous deeds, The lofty voice of glory and the faith Of sacred friendship. Stranger, I have told My function. If within thy bosom dwell Aught which may challenge praise, thou wilt not leave Unhonour'd my abode, nor shall I hear A sparing benediction from thy tongue.

VIII.

Ye powers unseen, to whom, the bards of Greece Erected altars; ye who to the mind More lofty views unfold, and prompt the heart With more divine emotions; if erewhile Not quite uupleasing have my votive rites Of you been deem'd, when oft this lonely seat To you I consecrated; then vouchsafe Here with your instant energy to crown My happy solitude. It is the hour When most I love to invoke you, and have felt Most frequent your glad ministry divine.

The air is calm: the sun's unveiled orb Shines in the middle heaven. The harvest round Stands quiet, and among the golden sheaves The reapers lie reclined. The neighbouring groves Are mute, nor even a linnet's random strain Echoeth amid the silence. Let me feel Your influence, ye kind powers. Aloft in heaven, Abide ye? or on those transparent clouds Pa.s.s ye from hill to hill? or on the shades Which yonder elms cast o'er the lake below Do you converse retired? From what loved haunt Shall I expect you? Let me once more feel Your influence, O ye kind inspiring powers: And I will guard it well; nor shall a thought Rise in my mind, nor shall a pa.s.sion move Across my bosom un.o.bserved, unstored By faithful memory. And then at some More active moment, will I call them forth Anew; and join them in majestic forms, And give them utterance in harmonious strains; That all mankind shall wonder at your sway.

IX.

Me though in life's sequester'd vale The Almighty Sire ordain'd to dwell, Remote from glory's toilsome ways, And the great scenes of public praise; Yet let me still with grateful pride Remember how my infant frame He temper'd with prophetic flame, And early music to my tongue supplied.

'Twas then my future fate he weigh'd, And, this be thy concern, he said, At once with Pa.s.sion's keen alarms, And Beauty's pleasurable charms, And sacred Truth's eternal light, To move the various mind of Man; Till, under one unblemish'd plan, His Reason, Fancy, and his Heart unite.

AN EPISTLE TO CURIO. [1]

Thrice has the spring beheld thy faded fame, And the fourth winter rises on thy shame, Since I exulting grasp'd the votive sh.e.l.l, In sounds of triumph all thy praise to tell; Bless'd could my skill through ages make thee shine, And proud to mix my memory with thine.

But now the cause that waked my song before, With praise, with triumph, crowns the toil no more.

If to the glorious man whose faithful cares, Nor quell'd by malice, nor relax'd by years, 10 Had awed Ambition's wild audacious hate, And dragg'd at length Corruption to her fate; If every tongue its large applauses owed, And well-earn'd laurels every Muse bestow'd; If public Justice urged the high reward, And Freedom smiled on the devoted bard; Say then, to him whose levity or l.u.s.t Laid all a people's generous hopes in dust; Who taught Ambition firmer heights of power, And saved Corruption at her hopeless hour; 20 Does not each tongue its execrations owe?

Shall not each Muse a wreath of shame bestow, And public Justice sanctify th' award, And Freedom's hand protect the impartial bard?

Yet long reluctant I forbore thy name, Long watch'd thy virtue like a dying flame, Hung o'er each glimmering spark with anxious eyes, And wish'd and hoped the light again would rise.

But since thy guilt still more entire appears, Since no art hides, no supposition clears; 30 Since vengeful Slander now too sinks her blast, And the first rage of party-hate is past; Calm as the judge of truth, at length I come To weigh thy merits, and p.r.o.nounce thy doom: So may my trust from all reproach be free; And Earth and Time confirm the fair decree.

There are who say they view'd without amaze The sad reverse of all thy former praise: That through the pageants of a patriot's name, They pierced the foulness of thy secret aim; 40 Or deem'd thy arm exalted but to throw The public thunder on a private foe.

But I, whose soul consented to thy cause, Who felt thy genius stamp its own applause, Who saw the spirits of each glorious age Move in thy bosom, and direct thy rage; I scorn'd the ungenerous gloss of slavish minds, The owl-eyed race, whom Virtue's l.u.s.tre blinds.

Spite of the learned in the ways of vice, And all who prove that each man has his price, 50 I still believed thy end was just and free; And yet, even yet, believe it--spite of thee.

Even though thy mouth impure has dared disclaim, Urged by the wretched impotence of shame, Whatever filial cares thy zeal had paid To laws infirm, and liberty decay'd; Has begg'd Ambition to forgive the show; Has told Corruption thou wert ne'er her foe; Has boasted in thy country's awful ear, Her gross delusion when she held thee dear; 60 How tame she follow'd thy tempestuous call, And heard thy pompous tales, and trusted all-- Rise from your sad abodes, ye cursed of old For laws subverted, and for cities sold!

Paint all the n.o.blest trophies of your guilt, The oaths you perjured, and the blood you spilt; Yet must you one untempted vileness own, One dreadful palm reserved for him alone; With studied arts his country's praise to spurn, To beg the infamy he did not earn, 70 To challenge hate when honour was his due, And plead his crimes where all his virtue knew.

Do robes of state the guarded heart enclose From each fair feeling human nature knows?

Can pompous t.i.tles stun the enchanted ear To all that reason, all that sense would hear?

Else couldst thou e'er desert thy sacred post, In such unthankful baseness to be lost?

Else couldst thou wed the emptiness of vice, And yield thy glories at an idiot's price? 80

When they who, loud for liberty and laws, In doubtful times had fought their country's cause, When now of conquest and dominion sure, They sought alone to hold their fruits secure; When taught by these, Oppression hid the face, To leave Corruption stronger in her place, By silent spells to work the public fate, And taint the vitals of the pa.s.sive state, Till healing Wisdom should avail no more, And Freedom loathe to tread the poison'd sh.o.r.e: 90 Then, like some guardian G.o.d that flies to save The weary pilgrim from an instant grave, Whom, sleeping and secure, the guileful snake Steals near and nearer through the peaceful brake; Then Curio rose to ward the public woe, To wake the heedless, and incite the slow, Against Corruption Liberty to arm, And quell the enchantress by a mightier charm.

Swift o'er the land the fair contagion flew, And with thy country's hopes thy honours grew. 100 Thee, patriot, the patrician roof confess'd; Thy powerful voice the rescued merchant bless'd; Of thee with awe the rural hearth resounds; The bowl to thee the grateful sailor crowns; Touch'd in the sighing shade with manlier fires, To trace thy steps the love-sick youth aspires; The learn'd recluse, who oft amazed had read Of Grecian heroes, Roman patriots dead, With new amazement hears a living name Pretend to share in such forgotten fame; 110 And he who, scorning courts and courtly ways, Left the tame track of these dejected days, The life of n.o.bler ages to renew In virtues sacred from a monarch's view, Roused by thy labours from the bless'd retreat, Where social ease and public pa.s.sions meet, Again ascending treads the civil scene, To act and be a man, as thou hadst been.

Thus by degrees thy cause superior grew, And the great end appear'd at last in view: 120 We heard the people in thy hopes rejoice, We saw the senate bending to thy voice; The friends of freedom hail'd the approaching reign Of laws for which our fathers bled in vain; While venal Faction, struck with new dismay, Shrunk at their frown, and self-abandon'd lay.

Waked in the shock the public Genius rose, Abash'd and keener from his long repose; Sublime in ancient pride, he raised the spear Which slaves and tyrants long were wont to fear; 130 The city felt his call: from man to man, From street to street, the glorious horror ran; Each crowded haunt was stirr'd beneath his power, And, murmuring, challenged the deciding hour.

Lo! the deciding hour at last appears; The hour of every freeman's hopes and fears!

Thou, Genius! guardian of the Roman name, O ever prompt tyrannic rage to tame!

Instruct the mighty moments as they roll, And guide each movement steady to the goal. 140 Ye spirits by whose providential art Succeeding motives turn the changeful heart, Keep, keep the best in view to Curio's mind, And watch his fancy, and his pa.s.sions bind!