O! teach our steps to find the secret cell,
Where with thy sire content thou lov'st to dwell.
Or, say, dost thou a duteous handmaid wait
Familiar, at the chambers of the great?
Dost thou pursue the voice of them that call
To noisy revel, and to midnight ball?
O'er the full banquet when we feast our soul,
Dost thou inspire the mirth, or mix the bowl?
Or with th' industrious planter dost thou talk,
Conversing freely in an ev'ning walk?
Say, does the miser e'er thy face behold,
Watchful and studious of the treasur'd gold?
Seeks knowledge, not in vain, thy much lov'd pow'r,
Still musing silent at the morning hour?
May we thy presence hope in war's alarms,
In S- 's wisdom, or Montgomery's arms!
In vain our flatt'ring hopes our steps beguile,
The flying good eludes the searcher's toil :
In vain we seek the city or the cell;
Alone with virtue knows the pow'r to dwell.
Nor need mankind despair these joys to know,
The gift themselves may on themselves bestow.
Soon, soon we might the precious blessing boast;
But many passions must the blessing cost;
Infernal malice, inly pining hate,
And envy grieving at anothers state.
Revenge no more must in our hearts remain,
Or burning lust, or avarice of gain.
When these are in the human bosom nurst,
Can peace reside in dwellings so accurst?
Unlike, O Eglintoun! thy happy breast,
Calm and serene, enjoys the heavenly guest;
From the tumultuous rule of passions freed,
Pure in thy thought, and spotless in thy deed.
In virtues rich, in goodness unconfia'd,
Thou shin'st a fair example to thy kind;
Sincere and equal to thy neighbour's fame,
How swift to praise, how obstinate to blame!
Bold in thy presence bashful sense appears,
And backward merit loses all its fears.
Supremely blest by heav'n, heav'n's richest grace
Confest is thine, an early blooming race,
Whose pleasing smiles shall guardian wisdom arm,
Divine instruction! taught of thee to charm.
What transports shall they to thy soul impart!
(The conscious transports of a parent's heart.)
When thou behold'st them of each grace possest,
And sighing youths imploring to be blest,
After thy image form'd, with charms like thine,
Or in the visit, or the dance to shine.
Thrice happy! who succeed their mother's praise,
The lovely Eglintouns of future days.
Meanwhile pursue the following tender scenes,
And listen to thy native poet's strains.
In ancient garb the home bred muse appears,
The garb our muses wore in former years.
As in a glass reflected, here behold
How smiling goodness look'd in days of old.
Nor blush to read where beauty's praise is shown,
And virtuous love, the likeness of thy own;
While midst the various gifts that gracious heaven,
Bounteous to thee, with righteous hand has given;
Let this, O Eglintoun! delight thee most,
T'enjoy that innocence the world has lost.
FANCY, bright and winged maid!
In thy night drawn car convey'd,
O'er the green earth, and wide spread main,
A thousand shadows in thy train,
A vary'd air-embody'd host,
To don what shapes thou pleasest most;
Brandish no more thy scorpion stings
Around the destin'd couch of kings;
Nor in rebellion's ghastly size
A dire gigantic spectre rise:
Cease, for awhile, in rooms of state
To damp the slumbers of the great;
In merit's lean look'd form t' appear,
And holla traitor in their ear:
Or freedom's holier garb bely,
While justice grinds her axe fast by:
Nor o'er the miser's eye-lids pour
The unrefreshing golden show'r;
Whilst keen th' unreal bliss to feel,
His breast bedews the ruffian steel.
With these, (when next thou tak'st thy
round)
The thoughts of guilty pride confound:
These swell the horrors and affright
Of conscience, keen condemning night.
For this (nor gracious pow'r! repine)
A gentler ministry be thine:
Whate'er inspires the poet's theme,
Or lover's hope enliven'd dream.
Monimia's mildest form assume;
Spread o'er thy cheeks her youthful bloom;
Unfold her eyes unblemish'd rays,
That melt to virtue as we gaze;
That envy's guiltiest wish disarm,
And view benign a kindred charm:
Call all the graces from thy store,
"Till thy creative power be o'er;
Bid her each breathing sweet dispense,
And robe in her own innocence.
My wish is giv'n; the spells begin;
Th' ideal world awakes within;
The lonely void of still repose
Pregnant with some new wonder grows:
See, by the twilight of the skies,
The beauteous apparition rise;
Slow in Monimia's form, along
Glides to the harmony of song.
But who is he the virgin leads,
Whom high a flaming torch proceeds,
In a gown of stainless lawn,
O'er each manly shoulder drawn?
Who, clad in robe of scarlet grain,
The boy that wears her flowing train?
Behind his back a quiver flung;
A bended bow across is hung;
His head and heels two wings unfold,
The azure feathers girt with gold.
Hymen! 'tis he who kind inspires
Joys unfeign'd and chaste desires.
And thou, of love deceitful child!
With tyger-heart, yet lamb-like mild,
Fantastic by thyself, and vain,
But seemly seen in Hymen's train;
If fate be to my wishes kind,
O! may I find ye ever join'd;
But if the fates my wish deny,
My humble roof come ye not nigh.
The spell works on: yet stop the day
While in the house of sleep I stay.
About me swells the sudden grove,
The woven arbourette of love;
Flow'rs spring unbidden o'er the ground,
And more than nature plants around.
Fancy, prolong the kind repose;
Still, still th' enchanting vision glows;
And now I gaze o'er all her charms,
Now sink transported in her arms.
Oh sacred energy divine!
All these enraptur'd scenes are thine.
Hail! copious source of pure delight;
All hail! thou heaven-revealed rite;
Endearing truth thy train attends,
And thou and meek-ey'd peace are friends:
Closer entwine the magic bow'r;
Thick rain the rose-empurpl'd show'r :
The mystic joy impatient flies
Th' unhallow'd gaze of vulgar eyes.
Unenvy'd let the rich and great
Turmoil without, and parcel fate,
Indulging here, in bliss supreme,
Might I enjoy the golden dream:
But, ah! the rapture must not stay;
For see! she glides, she glides away.
Oh fancy! why did'st thou decoy
My thoughts into this dream of joy,
Then to forsake me all alone,
To mourn the fond delusion gone?
O! back again, benign, restore
The pictur'd vision as before.
Yes, yes: once more I fold my eyes;
Arise, ye dear deceits, arise.
Ideas bland! where do ye rove?
Why fades my visionary grove?
Ye fickle troop of Morpheus' train,
Then will you, to the proud and vain,
From me, fantastic, wing your flight,
T'adorn the dream of false delight?
But now, seen in Monimia's air,
Can you assume a form less fair,
Some idle beauty's wish supply,
The mimic triumphs of her eye?
Grant all to me this live-long night,
Let charms detain the rising light;
For this one night my liv'ries wear,
And I absolve thee for the year.
What time your poppy-crowned God
Sends his truth telling scouts abroad,
Ere yet the cock to mattins rings,
And the lark with mounting wings,
The simple village-swain has warn'd
To shake off sleep, by labour earn'd ;
Or on the rose's silken hem,
Aurora weeps her earliest gem;
Or, beneath the op'ning dawn,
Smiles the fair-extended lawn.
When in the soft encircled shade
Ye find reclin'd the gentle maid,
Each busy motion laid to rest,
And all compos'd her peaceful breast:
Swift paint the fair internal scene,
The phantom labours of your reign;
The living imag'ry adorn
With all the limnings of the morn; With all the treasures nature keeps Conceal'd below the foaming deeps; Or dress'd in the rich waving pride, That covers the green mountain's side, Or blooms beneath the am'rous gale In the wide embosom'd vale.
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