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That rears and ripens man, as well as plants,
Here human nature wears its rudest form.
Deep from the piercing season sunk in caves,
Here by dull fires, and with unjoyous cheer,
They waste the tedious gloom. Immers'd in furs,
Doze the gross race. Nor sprightly jest, nor song,
Nor tenderness they know; nor aught of life,
Beyond the kindred bears that stalk without.
Till Morn at length, her roses drooping all,
Sheds a long twilight brightening o'er their fields,
And calls the quiver'd savage to the chase.

What cannot active government perform,
New-moulding man? Wide-stretching from these
A people savage from remotest time, [shores,
A huge neglected empire, one vast mind,
By Heaven inspir'd, from Gothic darkness call'd.
Immortal Peter! first of monarchs! He
His stubborn country tam'd, her rocks, her fens,
Her floods, her seas, her ill-submitting sons;
And while the fierce barbarian he subdued,
To more exalted soul he rais'd the man.
Ye shades of ancient heroes, ye who toil'd
Through long successive ages to build up
A labouring plan of state, behold at once
The wonder done! behold the matchless prince!
Who left his native throne, where reign'd till then
A mighty shadow of unreal power;
Who greatly spurn'd the slothful pomp of courts;
And, roaming every land, in every port
His sceptre laid aside, with glorious hand,
Unwearied plying the mechanic tool,
Gather'd the seeds of trade, of useful arts,
Of civil wisdom, and of martial skill.
Charg'd with the stores of Europe, home he goes;
Then cities rise amid th' illumin'd waste;
O'er joyless deserts smiles the rural reign;
Far distant flood to flood is social join'd;
Th' astonish'd Euxine hears the Baltic roar;
Proud navies ride on seas that never foam'd
With daring keel before; and armies stretch
Each way their dazzling files, repressing here
The frantic Alexander of the north,

And awing there stern Othman's shrinking sons.
Sloth flies the land, and Ignorance, and Vice,
Of old dishonour proud: it glows around,
Taught by the royal hand that rouz'd the whole,
One scene of arts, of arms, of rising trade:
For what his wisdom plann'd, and power enforc'd,
More potent still, his great example show'd.
Muttering, the winds at eve, with blunted point,
Blow hollow-blustering from the south. Subdued,
The frost resolves into a trickling thaw.
Spotted the mountains shine; loose sleet descends,
And floods the country round. The rivers swell,
Of bonds impatient. Sudden from the hills,
O'er rocks and woods, in broad brown cataracts,
A thousand snow-fed torrents shoot at once;
And, where they rush, the wide-resounding lain
Is left one slimy waste. Those sullen seas,
'That wash'd th' ungenial pole, will rest no more
Beneath the shackles of the mighty north;
But, rousing all their waves, resistless heave.
And hark: the lengthening roar continuous runs
Athwart the rifted deep: at once it bursts,
And piles a thousand mountains to the clouds.
Ill fares the bark with trembling wretches charg'd,
That, tost amid the floating fragments, moors
Beneath the shelter of an icy isle,

While night o'erwhelms the sea, and horrour looks
More horrible. Can human force endure

Th' assembled mischiefs that besiege them round
Heart gnawing hunger, fainting weariness,
The roar of winds and waves, the crush of ice,
Now ceasing, now renew'd with louder rage,
And in dire echoes bellowing round the main.
More to embroil the deep, Leviathan
And his unwieldy train, in dreadful sport,
Tempest the loosen'd brine, while through the
Far from the bleak inhospitable shore, [gloom,
Loading the winds, is heard the hungry howl
Of famish'd monsters, there awaiting wrecks.
Yet Providence, that ever-waking eye,
Looks down with pity on the feeble toil
Of mortals lost to hope, and lights them safe,
Through all this dreary labyrinth of fate.

'Tis done! dread Winter spreads his latest
glooms,

And reigns tremendous o'er the conquer'd year.
How dead the vegetable kingdom lies!

How dumb the tuneful! Horrour wide extends
His desolate domain. Behold, fond man!
See here thy pictur'd life; pass soine few years,
Thy flowering Spring, thy Summer's ardent
Thy sober Autumn fading into age, [strength,
And pale concluding Winter comes at last,
And shuts the scene. Ah! whither now are fled,
Those dreams of greatness? those unsolid hopes
Of happiness? those longings after fame?
Those restless cares? those busy bustling days?
Those gay-spent, festive nights? those veering
thoughts,

Lost between good and ill, that shar'd thy life?
All now are vanish'd! Virtue sole survives,
Immortal never-failing friend of man,
His guide to happiness on high. And see!
'Tis come, the glorious morn! the second birth
Of Heaven and Earth! awakening Nature hears
The new-creating word, and starts to life,
In every heighten'd form, from pain and death
For ever free. The great eternal scheme,
Involving all, and in a perfect whole
Uniting, as the prospect wider spreads,
To reason's eye refin'd clears up apace.
Ye vainly wise! ye blind presumptuous! now,
Confounded in the dust, adore that Power,
And Wisdom oft arraign'd: see now the cause,
Why unassuming Worth in secret liv'd,
And dy'd neglected: why the good man's share
In life was gall and bitterness of soul:
Why the lone widow and her orphans pin'd
In starving solitude; while Luxury,
In palaces, lay straining her low thought,
To form unreal wants: why heaven-born Truth,
And Moderation fair, wore the red marks
Of Superstition's scourge: why licens'd Pain,
That cruel spoiler, that embosom'd foe,
Imbitter'd all our bliss. Ye good distrest!
Ye noble few! who here unbending stand
Beneath life's pressure, yet bear up a while,
And what your bounded view, which only saw
A little part, deem'd evil, is no more :
The storms of Wintery Time will quickly pass,
And one unbounded Spring encircle all.

A HYMN.

THESE, as they change. Almighty rather, these, Are but the varied God. The rolling year

Is full of thee. Forth in the pleasing Spring
Thy beauty walks, thy tenderness and love.
Wide flush the fields; the softening air is balm;
Echo the mountains round; the forest smiles;
And every sense, and every heart, is joy.
Then comes thy glory in the Suminer-months,
With light and heat refulgent. Then thy Sun
Shoots full perfection through the swelling year:
And oft thy voice in dreadful thunder speaks;
And oft at dawn, deep noon, or falling eve,
By brooks and groves, in hollow-whispering gales.
Thy bounty shines in Autumn unconfin'd,
And spreads a common feast for all that lives.
In Winter awful thou! with clouds and storms
Around thee thrown, tempest o'er tempest roll'd,
Majestic darkness! on the whirlwind's wing,
Riding sublime, thou bidst the world adore,
And humblest nature with thy northern blast.
Mysterious round! what skill, what force divine,
Deep felt, in these appear! a simple train,
Yet so delightful mix'd, with such kind art,
Such beauty and beneficence combin'd,
Shade, unperceiv'd, so softening into shade;
And all so forming an harmonious whole;
That, as they still succeed, they ravish still.
But wandering oft, with brute unconscious gaze,
Man marks not thee, marks not the mighty hand,
That ever-busy, wheels, the silent spheres ;
Works in the secret deep; shoots, steaming, thence
The fair profusion that o'erspreads the Spring:
Flings from the Sun direct the flaming day;
Feeds every creature; hurls the tempests forth;
And, as on Earth this grateful change revolves,
With transport touches all the springs of life.
Nature, attend! join every living soul,
Beneath the spacious temple of the sky,
In adoration join; and, ardent, raise
One general song! To him, ye vocal gales,
Breathe soft, whose Spirit in your freshness
Oh, talk of him in solitary glooms! [breathes:
Where, o'er the rock, the scarcely waving pine
Fills the brown shade with a religious awe.
And ye, whose bolder note is heard afar,
Who shake th' astonish'd world, lift high to Heaven
Th' impetuous song, and say from whom you rage.
His praise, ye brooks, attune, ye trembling rills;
And let me catch it as I muse along.
Ye headlong torrents, rapid. and profound;
Ye softer floods, that lead the humid maze
Along the vale; and thou, majestic main,
A secret world of wonders in thyself,
Sound his stupendous praise; whose greater voice
Or bids your roar, or bids your roarings fall.
Soft roll your incense, herbs and fruits, and
flowers,

In mingled clonds to him; whose Sun exalts,
Whose breath perfumes you, and whose pencil
paints.

Yc forests bend, ye harvests wave, to him;

Breathe your still song into the reaper's heart,
As home he goes beneath the joyous Moon.
Ye that keep watch in Heaven, as Earth asleep
Unconscious lies, effuse your mildest beans,
Ye constellations, while your angels strike,
Amid the spangled sky, the silver lyre.
Great source of day! best image here below
Of thy Creator, ever pouring wide,

From world to world, the vital occan round,
On Nature write with every beam his praise.
The thunder rolls: be hush'd the prostrate world;"
While cloud to cloud returns the solemn hymn.
Bleat out afresh, ye bills: ye mossy rocks,
Retain the sound: the broad responsive lowe,
Ye vallies, raise; for the Great Shepherd reigns;
And his unsuffering kingdom yet will come.
Ye woodlands all, awake: a boundless song
Burst from the groves! and when the restless day,
Expiring, lays the warbling world asleep,
Sweetest of birds! sweet Philomela, charm
The listening shades, and teach the night his praise.
Ye chief, for whom the whole creation smiles,
At once the head, the heart, and tongue of all,
Crown the great hymn! in swarming cities vast,
Assembled men, to the deep organ join
The long-resounding voice, oft-breaking clear,
At solemn pauses, through the swelling base;
And, as each mingling flame increases each,
In one united ardour rise to Heaven.
Or if you rather chuse the rural shade,
And find a fame in every secret grove;
There let the shepherd's flute, the virgin's lay,
The prompting seraph, and the poet's lyre,
Still sing the God of Seasons, as they roll.
For me, when I forget the darling theme,
Whether the blossom blows, the Summer-ray
Russets the plain, inspiring Autumn gleams;
Or Winter rises in the blackening east ;
Be my tongue mute, my fancy paint no more,
And, dead to joy, forget my heart to beat.

Should Fate command me to the farthest verge
Of the green earth, to distant barbarous climes,
Rivers unknown to song; where first the Sun
Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beam
Flames on th' Atlantic isles; 'tis nought to me;
Since God is ever present, ever felt,
In the void waste as in the city full;
And where he vital breathes, there must be joy.
When ev'n at last the solemn hour should come,
And wing my mystic flight to future worlds,
I cheerful will obey; there, with new powers,
Will rising wonders sing: I cannot go
Where Universal Love not smiles around,
Sustaining all yon orbs, and all their suns;
From seeming evil still educing good,
And better thence again, and better still,
In infinite progression. But I lose
Myself in him, in Light ineffable;

Come then, expressive Silence, muse his praise,

THE CASTLE OF INDOLENCE.

AN ALLEGORICAL POEM.

ADVERTISEMENT.

THIS poem being writ in the manner of Spenser, the obsolete words, and a simplicity of diction in some of the lines, which borders on the ludicrous, were necessary, to make the imitation more perfect. And the style of that admirable poet, as well as the measure in which he wrote, are, as it were, appropriated by custom to allegorical poems writ in our language; just as in French the style of Marot, who lived under Francis I. has been used in tales, and familiar epistles, by the politest writers of the age of Louis XIV.

[blocks in formation]

Atween-between.
Ay--always.

Bale-sorrow, trouble,

misfortune. Benempt-named. Blazon-painting, displaying. Breme-cold, raw. Carol-to sing songs of joy. Caucus-the north-east wind. Certes-certainly. Dan-a word prefixed to

names.

Deftly-skilfully. Depainted-painted. Drowsy-head-drowsi

ness.

Fath-easy.

Eftsoons-immediately,

often afterwards. Eke-also.

Fays fairies.

Gear or geer-furniture, equipage, dress. Glaive sword. (Fr.) Glee-joy, pleasure. Han-have. Aight-named, called; and sometimes it is used for is called. See stanza vii. Idless-idleness. Imp-child, or offspring; from the Saxon impan, to graft or plant. Kest-for cast. Lad-for led. Lea-a piece of land, or

meadow.

Libbard-leopard.
Lig-to lie.

Losel-a loose idle fellow.

Louting-bowing, bend-
ing.
Lithe-loose, lax.
Mell-mingle.
Moe-more.
Moil--to labour.
Mote-might.
Muchel or mochel
much, great.
Nathless-nevertheless.

Ne-nor.

Needments necessaries. Noursling-a child that is nursed. Noyance-harm. Prankt-coloured, adorned gayly. Perdie (Fr. par Dieu)an old oath. Prick'd thro' the forest

rode through the forest. Sear-dry, burnt up. Sheen-bright, shining. Sicker-sure, surely. Sinackt-savoured. Soot-sweet, or sweetly. Sooth-true, or truth. Stound--misfortune,pang. Sweltry-sultry, con:uming with heat. Swink-to labour. Thrall-slave.

Transmew'd-transform

ed. Vild-vile.

Unkempt (Lat. incomptus)-unadorned. Ween-to think, be of opi

nion.

Weet-to know; to weet,

to wit. Whilom-ere while, formerly. Wight-man.

Wis, for wist-to know, think, understand. Wonne (a noun)-dwelling. Wroke-wreakt.

N. B. The letter r is frequently placed in the beginning of a word by Spenser, to lengthen it a syllable, and en at the end of a word, for the same reason, as withouten, casten, &c. Yborn-born. Yfere-together.

Yblent, or blent-blend- Ymolten-melted.
ed, mingled.
Yode (preter tense of
yede)-went.
Yclad-clad.
Yeleped-alled, named.

THE CASTLE OF INDOLENCE.
CANTO I.

The Castle height of Indolence,
And its false luxury;
Where for a little time, alas!
We liv'd rightjollily.

+

O MORTAL man, who livest here by toil, <
Do not complain of this thy hard estate;
That like an emmet thou must ever moil,
Is a sad sentence of an ancient date;
And, certes, there is for it reason great;
For, tho' sometimes it makes thee weep and wail, c
And curse thy star, and early drudge and late, b
Withouten that would come an heavier bale, e
Loose life, unruly passions, and diseases pale. C
In lowly dale, fast by a river's side,
With woody hill o'er hill encompass'd round,
A most enchanting wizard did abide, a
Than whom a fiend more fell is no where found.
It was, I ween, a lovely spot of ground;
And there a season atween June and May,
Half prankt with spring, with summer half em-
brown'd,

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A listless climate made, where, sooth to say, e No living wight could work, ne cared ev'n for play, e Was nought around but images of rest: Sleep-soothing groves, and quiet lawns between; And flowery beds that slumberous influence kest, From poppies breath'd; and beds of pleasant green,

Where never yet was creeping creature scen. Meantime unnumber'd glittering streamlets play'd,

And burl'd every where their waters sheen; That, as they bicker'd through the sunny shade, Though restless still themselves, a lulling murmur made.

Join'd to the prattle of the purling rills,

Were heard the lowing herds along the vale, And flocks loud-bleating from the distant hills, And vacant shepherds piping in the dale: And now and then sweet Philomel would wail, Or stock-doves plain amid the forest deep, That drowsy rustled to the sighing gale; And still a coil the grasshopper did keep; Yet all these sounds yblent inclined all to sleep. Full in the passage of the vale, above, A sable, silent, solemn forest stood; Where nought but shadowy forms was scen to As Idless fancy'd in her dreaming mood: And up the hills, on either side, a wood Of blackening pincs, ay waving to and fro, Sent forth a sleepy horrour through the blood; And where this valley winded out, below, The murmuring main was heard, and scarcely heard to how.

[move,

A pleasing land of drowsy-head it was, Of dreams that wave before the half-shut eye; And of gay castles in the clouds that pass, For ever flushing round a summer-sky: There eke the soft delights, that witchingly Instil a wanton sweetness through the breast, And the calm pleasures always hover'd nigh; But whate'er smack'd of noyance, or unrest, Was far far off expell'd from this delicious nest. The landskip such, inspiring perfect ease, Where Indolence (for so the wizard hight) Close-hid his castle mid embowering trees, That half shut out the beams of Phoebus bright, And made a kind of checker'd day and night; Meanwhile, unceasing at the massy gate, Beneath a spacious palm, the wicked wight Was plac'd; and to his lute, of cruel fate, And labour harsh, complain'd, lamenting man's

estate.

Thither continual pilgrims crowded still,

From all the roads of Earth that pass there by: For, as they chaunc'd to breathe on neighbouring hill,

The freshness of this valley smote their eye,
And drew them ever and anon more nigh;
Till clustering round th' enchanter false they
Ymolten with his syren melody;

[hung.

While o'er th' enfeebling lute his hand he flung, And to the trembling chords these tempting verses sung:

"Behold! ye pilgrims of this Earth, behold!
See all but man with unearn'd pleasure gay:
See her bright robes the butterfly unfold,
Broke from her wintery tomb in prime of May!
What youthful bride can equal her array?
Who can with her for easy pleasure vic?

From mead to read with gentle wing to stray,
From flower to flower on balmy gales to fly,
Is all she has to do beneath the radiant sky.

"Behold the merry minstrels of the morn, The swarming songsters of the careless grove, Ten thousand throats! that from the flowering thorn,

Hymn their good God, and carol sweet of love, Such grateful kindly raptures them emove: They neither plough, nor sow; ne, fit for flail, F'er to the barn the nodden sheaves they drove; Yet theirs each harvest dancing in the gale, Whatever crowns the hill, or smiles along the vale. "Outcast of Nature, man! the wretched thrall Of bitter dropping sweat, of sweltry pain, Of cares that eat away thy heart with gall, And of the vices, an inhuman train, That all proceed from savage thirst of gain: For when hard-hearted Interest first began To poison Earth, Astræa left the plain; Guile, violence, and murder, seiz'd on man, And, for soft milky streams, with blood the rivers

ran.

"Come, ye, who still the cumberous load of life Push hard up hill; but as the farthest steep You trust to gain, and put an end to strife, Down thunders back the stone with mighty sweep, And hurls your labours to the valley deep, For ever vain: come, and, withouten fee, I in oblivion will your sorrows steep, Your cares, your toils, will steep you in a sea Of full delight: O come, ye weary wights, to me!

"With me, you need not rise at early dawn: To pass the joyless day in various stounds: Or, louting low, on upstart Fortune fawn, And sell fair honour for some paltry pounds; Or through the city take your dirty rounds, To cheat, and dun, and lye, and visit pay, Now flattering base, now giving secret wounds: Or prowl in courts of law for human prey, In vernal senate thieve, or rob on broad highway. "No cocks, with me, to rustic labour call, From village on to village sounding clear: To tardy swain no shrill-voic'd matrons squall; No dogs, no babes, no wives, to stun your ear; No hammers thump; no horrid blacksmith sear, Ne noisy tradesmen your sweet slumbers start, With sounds that are a misery to bear: But all is calm, as would delight the heart Of Sybarite of old, all nature, and all art.

"Here nought but candour reigns, indulgent ease, Good-natur'd lounging, sauntering up and down: They who are pleas'd themselves must always please;

On others' ways they never squint a frown, Nor heed what haps in hamlet or in town: Thus, from the source of tender indolence, With milky blood the heart is overflown, For Interest, Envy, Pride, and Strife, are banish'd Is sooth'd and sweetcn'd by the social sense;

hence.

What, what is virtue, but repose of mind, A pure ethereal calm, that knows no storm; Above the reach of wild ambition's wind, Above the passions that this world deform, And torture man, a proud malignant worm? But here, instead, soft gales of passion play, And gently stir the heart, thereby to form A quicker sense of joy; as breezes stray [gay. Across th' enliven'd skies, and make them still more

"The best of men have ever lov'd repose:
They hate to mingle in the filthy fray;
Where the soul sours, and gradual rancour grows,
Enibitter'd more from peevish day to day.
Ev'n those whom Fame has lent her fairest ray,
The most renown'd of worthy wights of yore,
From a base world at last have stol'n away:
So Scipio, to the soft Cumaan shore
Retiring, tasted joy he never knew before.

"But if a little exercise you chuse,
Some zest for case, 'tis not forbidden here.
Amid the groves you may indulge the Muse,
Or tend the blooms, and deck the vernal year;
Or softly stealing, with your watery gear,
Along the brook, the crimson spotted fry
You may delude: the whilst, amus'd, you hear
Now the hoarse stream, and now the Zephyr's
sigh,

Attuned to the birds, and woodland melody.

"O grievous folly! to heap up estate,

Losing the days you see beneath the Sun;
When, sudden, comes blind unrelenting Fate,
And gives th' untasted portion you have won,
With ruthless toil, and many a wretch undone,
To those who mock you gone to Pluto's reign,
There with sad ghosts to pine, and shadows dun:
But sure it is of vanities most vain,

To toil for what you here untoiling may obtain."

He ceas'd. But still their trembling ears retain'd
The deep vibrations of his witching song;
That, by a kind of magic power, constrain'd
To enter in, pell-mell, the listening throng,
Heaps pour'd on heaps, and yet they slipt along,
In silent ease: as when beneath the beam
Of summer-moors, the distant woods among,
Or by some flood all silver'd with the gleam,
The soft-embodied Fays through airy portal stream:
By the smooth demon so it order'd was,
And here his baneful bounty first began :
Though some there were who would not further
And his alluring baits suspected han. [pass,
The wise distrust the too fair-spoken man.
Yet through the gate they cast a wishful eye:
Not to move on, perdie, is all they can;
For, do their very best, they cannot fly,
But often each way look, and often sorcly sigh.
When this the watchful wicked wizard saw,
With sudden spring he leap'd upon them straight;
And, soon as touch'd by his unhallow'd paw,
They found themselves within the cursed gate;
Full hard to be repass'd, like that of Fate.
Not stronger were of old the giant crew,

Who sought to pull high Jove from regal state;
Though feeble wretch he seem'd, of sallow hue:
Certes, who bides his grasp, will that encounter rue.

For whomsoe'er the villain takes in hand,
Their joints unknit, their sinews melt apace;
As lithe they grow as any willow-wand,
And of their vanish'd force remains no trace:
So when a maiden fair, of modest grace,
In all her buxom blooming May of charms,
Is seized in some losel's hot embrace,
She waxeth very weakly as she warms,
Then sighing yields her up to love's delicious harms.
Wak'd by the crowd, slow from his bench arose
A comely full-spread porter, swoln with sleep:
His calm, broad, thoughtless aspect, breath'd
repose;

And in sweet torpour he was plunged deep,
Ne could himself from ceaseless yawning keep;
While o'er his eyes the drowsy liquor ran,
Thro' which his half-wak'd soul would faintly peep.
Then, taking his black staff, he call'd his man,
And rous'd himself as much as rouse himself he can.
The lad leap'd lightly at his master's call.
He was, to weet, a little roguish page,
Save sleep and play who minded nought at all,
Like most the untaught striplings of his age.
This boy he kept each band to disengage,
Garters and buckles, task for him unfit,
But ill-becoming his grave personage,
And which his portly paunch would not permit,
So this same limber page to all performed it.

Meantime the master-porter wide display'd
Great store of caps, of slippers, and of gowns;
Wherewith he those that enter'd in, array'd
Loose, as the breeze that plays along the downs,
And waves the summer-woods when evening
frowns.

O fair undress, best dress! it checks no vein,
But every flowing limb in pleasure drowns,
And heightens case with grace. This done, right
fain,

Sir porter sat him down, and turn'd to sleep again.

Thus easy rob'd, they to the fountain sped,
That in the middle of the court up-threw
A stream, high-spouting from its liquid bed,
And falling back again in drizzly dew:
There each deep draughts, as deep be thirsted,
It was a fountain of Nepenthe rare:
Whence, as Dan Homer sings, huge pleasaunce
And sweet oblivion of vile earthly care;

[drew

[grew,

Fair gladsome waking thoughts, and joyous dreams
more fair.

This rite perform'd, all inly pleas'd and still,
Withouten tromp, was proclamation made.
"Ye sons of Indolence, do what you will;
And wander where you list, thro' hall or glade!
Be no inan's pleasure for another staid;
Let each as likes him best his hours employ,"
And curs'd be he who minds his neighbour's trade!
Here dwells kind Ease and unreproving Joy:
He little merits bliss who others can annoy."

Straight of these endless numbers, swarming
As thick as idle motes in sunny ray, [round,
Not one eftsoons in view was to be found,
But every man stroll'd off his own glad way,
Wide o'er this ample court's black area,
With all the lodges that thereto pertain❜d,
No living creature could be seen to stray;
While solitude and perfect silence reign'd:
So that to think you dreaint you almost was con-
strain'd.

As when a shepherd of the Hebrid isles,
Plac'd far amid the melancholy main,
(Whether it be lone fancy him beguiles;
Or that aerial beings sometimes deign
To stand embodied, to our senses plain)
Sees ou the naked hill, or valley low,
The whilst in ocean Phoebus dips his wain,
A vast assembly moving to and fro:
Then all at once in air dissolves the wondrous show.
Ye gods of quiet, and of sleep profound!
Whose soft dominion o'er this castle sways,
And all the widely-silent places round,
Forgive me, if my trembling pen displays
What never yet was sung in mortal lays.
But how shall I attempt such arduous string,
I who have spent iny mights and nightly days,
In this soul deadening place, loose-loitering?
Ah! how shall I for this uprear my moulted wing?

Come on, my Muse, nor stoop to low despair,
Thou imp of Jove, touch'd by celestial fire!
Thou yet shalt sing of war, and actions fair,
Which the bold sons of Britain will inspire;
Of ancient bards thou yet shall sweep the lyre;
Thou yet shall tread in tragic pall the stage,
Paint love's enchanting woes, the hero's ire,
The sage's calm, the patriot's noble rage, [age.
Dashing corruption down through every worthless

The doors, that knew no shrill alarming bell,
Ne cursed knocker ply'd by villain's hand,
Self-open'd into halls, where, who can tell
What elegance and grandeur wide expand
The pride of Turk y and of Persia land?
Soft quilts on quilts, on carpets carpets spread,
And couches s'retch'd around in seemly band;
And endless pillows rise to prop the head;
So that each spacious room was one full-swelling-
bed.

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