Lord of the generous arts, that win command,
By noble counsel, or by valorous hand,
He knew no rivals in the dastard knaves,
Who spring to wealth from Lucre's base-born slaves ; 20
Who gain rich lands, and feed luxurious boards,
By the vile modes, which groveling Trade affords!
Perchance some Knight of more advent'rous name
His spirit's generous envy might enflame;
One, on whose breast with more resplendent fire
Beam'd the red cross, or growl'd the lion's ire;
Who rode with statelier grace the prancing horse,
Or couch'd his quivering lance with mightier force!
E'en tho' his heaving bosom swell'd with pain,
Aspiring wreaths of equal worth to gain,
Still in the grateful strife was glory mix'd,
And Virtue's wishes in his heart were fix'd;
No wealthy son of Commerce bade him hide
Before superior pomp his lessen'd pride,
Nor call'd him with insulting sneers to vie
In the mean race of arts he scorn'd to try:
Honour and rank and wealth he saw await
Toils of the wise, and actions of the great;
Nor mark'd, where'er before his aching eyes
Halls, mansions, castles, palaces, arise,
Wretches usurp them, who in darksome cells
Won their base spoils by Traffic's hated spells!
Rude was the pile, that from th' impending brow
Of some steep rock upon the wave below
Oft look'd with fearful grandeur; loud the blast
Rav'd on its walls, and thro' its turrets past;
Chill were its sunless rooms, and drear the aisles
Along whose length the night-breeze told her tales;
Massive the walls, thro' which the genial day
Strove with warm breath in vain to win its way;
But jocund was its hall; and gay the feast
That spoke the genuine gladness of the breast,
When rang'd its hospitable boards along,
The warlike bands renew'd th' heroic song;
Or told wild tales, or drank with greedy ear
Romantic ditties which the Minstrel-Seer
Tun'd to his harp, while, as with bolder fire
He threw his raptur'd hand across the wire,
With visions of new glory beam'd each eye,
And loud the gathering chorus rose on high;
Till shook the rafter'd roof, and every bound
Of the wide castle trembled with the sound.
Rough were the scenes, as was the master's mind,
Which Nature, bordering on th' abode, design'd;
Forests of age untold, whose unpierc'd wood
Ne'er to the labourer's echoing ax had bow'd;
Soft lawns, which mid surrounding coverts spread,
By the wild tenants of the scene were fed ;
Deep dells, with fern, and brake, and twisted thorn
Thick-matted, whence the hunter's shrill-ton'd horn 70
Started th' elastic deer, which, stung with fright,
Swift as the viewless winds, pursued their flight;
Loud torrents, rumbling as they won their course
Thro' fretted rocks and winding banks by force;
Or rills, that murmur'd music, as their race
Thro' flowery vales they ran with even pace.
When War's alarms no more around him rag`d,
In sports amid these scenes the Chief engag'd;
Sports, that became his hardy form !—When Light
First 'gan to streak the flying mists of Night,
From his rough couch he sprung; his bugle blew,
And round him each impatient hunter drew;
Then forth the steed of wondrous swiftness came,
And thro' the woods he sought th' affrighted game;
From morn to eve, woods, plains, and vales, and hills
With the loud echo of his voice he fills;
No toil fatigues him, and no danger stays;
Perils the zest of his amusement raise!
Then home to gorgeous halls and blazing fires,
Weary, yet pleas'd with exercise, retires:
The feast is spread; the war-clad walls along
Rings the glad converse, and rebounding song;
And when again the sable-mantled Night
Far o'er the sky has urg'd her heavy flight,
On the hard bed his giant limbs he throws,
And sinks serenely into deep repose!
The restless, vigorous, soul ye ne'er can please!
Within your stagnant lakes Corruption breeds,
And on your flowers vile sensual Meanness feeds! 100
As when foul pests have gathered in the sky,
And o'er the globe the death-charg'd vapours fly,
Soon as the mighty Tempest drives his blasts,
And thro' the lurid gloom his lightning casts,.
Vanish the congregated brood of ills,
And heath and sunshine all the landscape fills;
So, when wan Indolence and timid Joy,
The native spirit of the mind destroy,
And fiends of hell, and sprites of loathsome Pain,
Self-love, Lust, Gluttony, and Hate, enchain;
The toils of war, the battle's thundering storm,
The sleepy current of the soul reform;
The loaded bosom purge, and bid it flame
With the pure throbbings of a generous fame;
And light with hope, and airy with the fire
Of blest Ambition, up to Heaven aspire!" c
c I had just finished this Essay, when I received the two following from a most valuable and respected Correspondent.
On the Effects of Rural Scenery.
These are thy glorious works, Parent of good!"
MILT. PAR. LOST.
THE pride and vanity of man, in order to distinguish him from the inferior animals of the creation, instead of having recourse to that reason by which he alone was formed "after the image" and "in the likeness" of his Maker, has led him to imagine a thousand frivolous and trifling marks of difference. Hence one philosopher defines him to be a laughing, and another a weeping, animal. One makes the chief criterion between him and brutes, to be, that he walks upon two legs, and is not covered with feathers; and another, with an affectation of piety, that he walks upon two legs, and looks up to heaven; "Os Hominis sublime dedit, cœlumque tueri jussit." One, that he is the most perfect of creatures; and another, that he is the most helpless. So that, in short, the most inconsiderable varieties of form and manners have served them as sufficient foundations on which to build the most important of all generic distinctions;
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