Classic Poem

I HATE the constant Elegiac Lay!
Give me a Measure blithe as day,
Such days as near the Ides of June
Inspire the Lark's elaborate tune.
When, as beams of Morning pour,
Ambitious midst a cloud to soar,
He mounts aloft, and from his gurgling throat
Darts back to Earth the piercing note,
Which falling with the dews of morn
That deck the pink and snowy thorn,
Floats round upon the Zephyr's wing,
And wakes the burnish'd Finch, and Linnet sweet to sing!

And be my Lines irregular and free,
Poetic chains away from me!
I jeer dull Laws that raise a mound
O'er which the Muse is caution'd not to bound!
She shall in verse meandering sport,
Her Feet or quick, or long, or short,
Just as her varying impulse wills,
And scorn the straiten'd march that each fine fervour chills.

Themes too, without controul, I'll change,
As Thought excursive chance to range!
Shall I to Love address my Lays,
Whom Poets sing, with endless Praise?
Their lofty minds escape his Chains,
They thus at Ease describe his pains,
And uncheck'd Ingenuity display
For that no real Passion mars the Lay!
But, where Love reigns, a Tyrant he
Whom painted with Bandeau we see,
With downy wings, and childish face,
As though of Angel Cherub race,
And he the action ne'er leaves free
Of mental Ingenuity.
Still, why give Love an endless Lay?
He hath but intermittent sway.

When Newton trod the starry road
And viewed the numerous stars' abode
And measured every distant orb,
Did silly Love his steps attend,
His mighty purposes suspend,
Or e'er his lofty thoughts absorb?
When intellectual L OCKE explored
The minds mere Vacuum, where no hoard
Of Innate young Ideas lay,
Did e'er, whilst robed in wisdom's stole,
Love's dazzling flame his views controul,
Or light him through his darksome way?

From Theme so trite, away I haste!
For Subject course Earth's motley waste,
Seek Character, where'er it runs,
View Eastern Climes 'neath fiercer Suns.
Mark how C ONFUCIUS ' feeble race
Hi changeless Records dully trace!
To Imitation still confine
Their powers, nor dare a devious line!
Whims elsewhere live their short lived day,
Are tasted, liked, and pass away,
In C HINA , none from old rules range,
Whilst all around is grateful Change!
Away are flown a thousand springs,
As Earth hath coursed its circling rings,
No Art or Virtue more refined,
Not one suggestion left behind!
Philosophy, no inroads made,
Still sleeps within impervious shade.
Dull Learning, blindfold in its pen,
Hath only Ancient Thoughts arranged,
This niggard Precept left to men,
" Proceed, be wise, but, be unchanged! "

Mere Wrecks of States, now passed away,
Are loftier Subjects for my Lay!
O'erthrown P ALMYRA I'll explore,
There beauty's glance, and wisdom's lore,
Ages, long passed, the soul beguiled,
Oh think! in that unletter'd Wild
L ONGINUS wrote, Z ENOBIA smiled!
Where now a humbled Column lies,
Streamed radiance forth from beaming eyes;
The roofs where odious night-birds rest,
Once shelter'd Wit, once echoed Jest;
Where Peasants cumbrous Oxen stall,
T HERPSICHORE swam through the ball;
Serpents convolve where Music trilled,
A Marbled Desart now Palmyra's fate's fulfilled!

To Southern regions hence I glide away,
To where deep Wisdom's earliest Students breathed,
Where Egypt's swarthy sons imbrown by day,
Where Science first by Herald Fame was wreathed.
There view the reservoir's collected flood
To bless a famished People spend its wealth,
Pour out itself to renovate their blood,
By Heaven supplied with stores of future health.
But ah! there Locusts close the dreaded wing,
Fix on the Flow'rets, dim their brilliant hues,
In fragrance wrapt, to closing blossoms cling,
And glitter on each shrub like blighting dews.

My Muse retreats! to Europe northward hies
And gains S ICILIA'S ever lucid skies,
There views the wreck that Nature lately tore,
Wrathful! from sad Messina's once famed Port,
As the Proud Marbles that adorned its shore
Where dash'd on Rocks and made the billow's sport.
Whilst the mad Mother, and the Child bereaved,
The tottering Palaces, the falling Towers,
Showed full Destruction was, at once, atchieved,
With all a fierce convulsive Earthquake's powers!

I turn from Scenes so fraught with pain,
Italia's Continent I gain,
Where nature's loftiest minds were found,
Where Fancy's brightest thoughts abound!
I linger here, the classic clime
Doth well deserve devoted time,
I tread the sacred way of Rome,
I press to kneel at Virgil's tomb!

And ah! be Italy ne'er named,
Without due tribute to the famed
The ever glorious Medecis!
Sweet POETRY , attune thy Lyre,
To those who woke thy latent fire
And set thy rolls long prison'd free!

Let SCULPTURE raise its Pillar high,
Their names advance towards the sky,
From whom it life renewed derived.
Let PAINTING sweetly blend its hues,
Its votive canvass ne'er refuse,
To those who all its powers revived!

Their names Posterity will ever prize,
High in the climax of the literate few,
Who from the rust of time will bright arise,
By passing Centuries still kept in view!

On S PAIN I glance, of late but slightly famed,
From Sports Barbarian little yet reclaimed!
Their Bull-Fight view, whilst earth 'neath fierce hoofs rings
As forth his Den the bellowing Monster springs.
The ireful foam surrounds his churning jaws,
His burnished horns, in battle's anxious pause,
Now raze the earth, now, proudly tossed in air,
The waiting combatants to contest dare!
The waiting troop the wished for signal greets,
Darts on the foe; the lordly Bull defeats
The well-aim'd thrust, and, armed with native might,
Contemns each brandish'd sword, and dagger bright;
And, rushing on, whilst deathful fury flies
In livid sparkles from his blood-red eyes,
He gores the generous steeds, their riders throws,
And round the vast Steccado fearless goes,
In haughty Strength each threat'ning risk to dare
Whilst boisterous admiration rends the air!

I roam now G ALLIA'S sportive plains,
Where rustic laugh for ever reigns,
Near glossy rills which as they fly
Their curved embroidered banks between
Whose glowing tints begem the green
Bear on their curls the Zephyr's sigh.
The pleasures here, a rosy band,
Together link'd with Flowery Chains
And blithly dancing o'er the Plains,
Spread cheerful mirth throughout the land!

To E NGLAND homeward now I glide,
My Country view with added Pride!
The Virtues greet of every Time,
The mingled sweets of every Clime!
There, charming is the M ORNING'S hour,
When, from his chrystal roseate bower,
We see the early Sun pursue
The skimming breeze through fields of dew.
Charming the fiery hour of N OON ,
When the sunk Linnet's fading tune
Allures us to the beechy grove,
Or where some cragg'd grotesque Alcove
Sounds in the ear its tinkling rill,
Attractive by its grateful chill.
Charming, at close of day, the beauties spread,
As D EVON'S hills, my native scenes! I tread.
How deck'd the mists attendant on the eve
With colours richest that the Sun can give!
How wakes around the Nightingales' rich trill,
Till their sweet pipes the Empyrean fill,
And Sensibility usurps the Heart
And makes me through each swelling song take part,
And dwell upon each touching pause,
And lengthen out each added clause,
Till rapt Attention, strain'd full high,
Starts a prompt tear, awakes a sigh.

On D EVON'S scenes could I prolong,
With added strains, my lengthen'd song,
E'en from the hour when first the Morn,
Imparts the light of beamy Dawn,
Pours Scents and Colours o'er the vale,
And wakes its song, and wakes its tale,
Till every fairy Elf and sprite
Joins in the secret dance at night.
Here, here, then P OETRY thy Numbers bring,
Here Music strike thy sweetly trembling string!
I, break the lingering tempting strain
And still each note with pensive pain!