« PreviousContinue »
"Cease, man of woman born, to hope relief “ Amicted Israel shall sit weeping down, From daily trouble and continued grief;
Fast by the stream where Babel's waters run; Thy hope of joy deliver to the wind,
Their harps upon the neighboring willows hung, Suppress thy passions, and prepare thy mind; Nor joyous hymn encouraging their tongue, Free and familiar with misfortune grow,
Nor cheerful dance their feet; with toil oppressid, Be us'd to sorrow, and inur’d to woe;
Their wearied limbs aspiring but to rest. By weakening toil and hoary age o'ercome, In the reflective stream the sighing bride, See thy decrease, and hasten to thy tomb; Viewing her charms impair'd, abash'd, shall hide Leave to thy children tumult, strife, and war, Her pensive head; and in her languid face Portions of toil, and legacies of care ;
The bridegroom shall foresee his sickly race, Send the successive ills through ages down, While ponderous felters vex their close embrace. And let each weeping father tell his son,
With irksome anguish then your priests shall mourn That deeper struck, and more distinctly griev'd, Their long-neglected feasts' despair'd return, He must augment the sorrows he receiv'd. And sad oblivion of their solemn days.
“The child to whose success thy hope is bound, Thenceforth their voices they shall only raise, Ere thou art scarce interr'd, or he is crown'd, Louder to weep. By day, your frighted seers To lust of arbitrary sway inclind,
Shall call for fountains to express their tears, (That cursed poison to the prince's mind !) And wish their eyes were floods; by night, from Shall from thy dictales and his duty rove,
dreams And lose his great defence, his people's love ; Of opening gulfs, black storms, and raging flames, Ill-counsellid, vanquish'a, fugitive, disgrac'd, Starting amaz'd, shall to the people show Shall mourn the fame of Jacob's strength effac'd ; Emblems of heavenly wrath, and mystic types of woe Shall sigh the king diminish'd, and the crown
The captives, as their tyrant shall req With lessen'd rays descending to his son;
That they should breathe the song, and touch the Shall see the wreaths, his grandsire knew to reap
lyre, By active toil and military sweat,
Shall say : Can Jacob's servile race rejoice, Pining, incline their sickly leaves, and shed Untun'd the music, and disus'd the voice ? Their falling honors from his giddy head; What can we play,' (they shall discourse,) . how sing By arms or prayer unable to assuage
In foreign lands, and to a barbarous king?
We and our fathers, from our childhood bred
(race, Alas! when we have toil'd the longsome day, “ Hence laboring years shall weep their destin'd The fullest bliss our hearts aspire to know Charg'd with ill omens, sullied with disgrace. Is but some interval from active woe, Time, by necessity compellid, shall go
In broken rest and startling sleep to mourn, Through scenes of war, and epochas of woe. Till morn, the tyrant, and the scourge, return. The empire, lessen'd in a parted stream,
Bred up in grief, can pleasure be our theme? Shall lose its course
Our endless anguish does not Nature claim? Indulge thy tears: the Heathen shall blaspheme; Reason and sorrow are to us the same. Judah shall fall, oppress'd by grief and shame,
Alas! with wild amazement we require, And men shall from her ruins know her fame. If idle Folly was not Pleasure's fire ?
“ New Egypts yet and second bonds remain, Madness, we fancy, gave an ill-tim'd birth A harsher Pharaoh, and a heavier chain.
To grinning Laughter, and to frantic Mirth.' Again, obedient to a dire command,
“This is the series of perpetual woe, Thy captive sons shall leave the promis'd land. Which thou, alas! and thine, are born to know. Their name more low, their servitude more vile, Illustrious wretch! repine not, nor reply: Shall on Euphrates' bank renew the grief of Nile. View not what Heaven ordains with Reason's eye ; “These pointed spires, that wound the ambient Too bright the object is ; the distance is too high. sky,
The man who would resolve the work of Fate, (Inglorious change!) shall in destruction lie May limit number, and make crooked straight. Low, levell’d with the dust; their heights unknown, Stop thy inquiry then, and curb thy sense, Or measur'd by their ruin. Yonder throne, Nor let dust argue with Omnipotence. For lasting glory built, design'd the seat
'Tis God who must dispose, and man sustain, Of kings for ever blest, for ever great,
Born to endure, forbidden to complain. Remov'd by the invader's barbarous hand, Thy sum of life must his decrees fulfil; Shall grace his triumph in a foreign land. What derogates from his command, is ill; The tyrant shall demand yon sacred load And that alone is good which centres in his will Of gold, and vessels set apart to God,
“ Yet, that thy laboring senses may not droup, Then, by vile hands to common use debas'd, Lost to delight, and destitute of hope, Shall send them flowing round his drunken seast, Remark what I, God's messenger, aver With sacrilegious taunt, and impious jest.
From him, who neither can deceive nor err. “Twice fourteen ages shall their way complete ; The land, at length redeem’d, shall cease to mourn Empires by various turns shall rise and set; Shall from her sad captivity return. While thy abandon'd tribes shall only know Sion shall raise her long-dejected head, A different master, and a change of woe, And in her courts the law again be read. With down-cast eye-lids, and with looks aghast, Again the glorious temple shall arise, Shall dread the future, or bewail the past, And with new lustre pierce the neighboring skies
The promis'd seat of empire shall again
The squire, whose good grace was to open the
Derry down, &c.
“What frightens you thus, my good son ?" says No more may man inquire, nor angel know.
the priest : “Now, Solomon! remembering who thou art,
You murder'd, are sorry, and have been confest." Act through thy remnant life the decent part.
O father! my sorrow will scarce save my bacon; Go forth: be strong : with patience and with care For 'twas not that I murder'd, but ihat I was taken." Perform, and suffer: to thyself severe,
Derry down, &c.
“ Pugh! pr’ythee ne'er trouble thy head with
such fancies : Thy sum of duty let two words contain ; (O may they graven in thy heart remain !) Rely on the aid you shall have from Saint Francis: Be humble, and be just." The angel said :
If the money you promis'd be brought to the chest, With upward speed his agile wings he spread ;
You have only to die: let the church do the rest. Whilst on the holy ground I prostrate lay,
Derry down, &c. By various doubts impell’d, or to obey,
“And what will folks say, if they see you afraid ? Or to object; at length (my mournful look Heaven-ward erect) determin'd, thus I spoke :
It reflects upon me, as I knew not my trade : Supreme, all-wise, eternal Potentate!
Courage, friend ; for to-day is your period of sorrow; Sole Author, sole Disposer of our fate!
And things will go better, believe me, to-morrow.' Enthron'd in light and immortality,
Derry down, &c. Whom no man fully sees, and none can see!
“ To-morrow!" our hero replied, in a fright: Original of beings! Power divine!
· He that's hang'd before noon, ought to thing of toSince that I live, and that I think, is thine!
night."Benign Creator! let thy plastic hand
“Tell your beads," quoth the priest, “and be fairly Dispose its own effect; let thy command Restore, Great Father! thy instructed son;
For you surely to-night shall in Paradise sup." And in my act may thy great will be done !"
Derry down, &c.
“Alas!" quoth the squire, “howe'er sumptuous
Parbleu! I shall have little stomach to eat;
I should therefore esteem it great favor and grace.
Would you be so kind as to go in my place."
“That I would," quoth the father, "and thank Grève,
you to boot; The fatal retreat of th' unfortunate brave;
But our actions, you know, with our duty must suit Where Honor and Justice most oddly contribute
The feast I propos'd 10 you, I cannot taste ; To ease heroes' pains by a halter and gibbet.
For this night, by our order, is mark'd for a fast.". Derry down, down, hey derry down.
Derry down, &c There Death breaks the shackles which Force had put on,
Then, turning about to the hangman, he said, And the hangman completes what the judge but“ Dispatch me, I prythee, this troublesome blade; begun;
For thy cord and my cord both equally lie, There the squire of the pad, and the knight of the And we live by the gold for which other men die post,
Derry down, &c. Find their pains no more balk'd, and their hopes
no more crost. Derry down, &c. Great claims are there made, and great secrets are known;
In vain you tell your parting lover,
You wish fair winds may wafi him over.
Alas! what winds can happy prove,
That bear me far from what I love?
Alas! what dangers on the main
Be gentle, and in pity choose
To wish the wildest tempesis loose .
That, thrown again upon the coast
The reason of the thing is clear Where first my shipwreck'd heart was lost,
Would Jove the naked truth aver. I may once more repeat my pain ;
Cupid was with him of the party, Once more in dying notes complain
And show'd himself sincere and hearty;
For, give that whipster but his errand,
Searches the parlor, chamber, study;
Nor stops till he has culprit's body.
“Since this has been authentic truth, Tine pride of every grove I chose,
By age deliver'd down to youth; The violet sweet and lily fair,
Tell us, mistaken husband, tell us, The dappled pink, and blushing rose,
Why so mysterious, why so jealous ? To deck my charming Chloe's hair.
Does the restraint, the bolt, the bar,
Make us less curious, her less fair? At morn the nymph vouchsaf'd to place
The spy, which does this treasure keep, Upon her brow the various wreath ;
Does she ne'er say her prayers, nor sleep? The flowers less blooming than her face,
Does she to no excess incline?
Or have not gold and flattery power
To purchase one unguarded hour? And every nymph and shepherd said,
"Your care does further yet extend : That in her hair they look'd more gay
That spy is guarded by your friend.Than glowing in their native bed.
But has this friend nor eye nor heart?
May he not feel the cruel dart, Undrest at evening, when she found
Which, soon or late, all mortals feel ? Their odors lost, their colors past;
May he not, with too tender zeal, She chang'd her look, and on the ground
Give the fair prisoner cause to see, Her garland and her eye she cast.
How much he wishes she were free?
May he not craftily infer That eye dropt sense distinct and clear,
The rules of friendship too severe, As any Muse's tongue could speak,
Which chain him to a hated trust; When from its lid a pearly tear
Which make him wretched, to be just ? Ran trickling down her beauteous cheek.
And may not she, this darling she,
Youthful and healthy, flesh and blood, Dissembling what I knew too well,
Easy with him, ill us’d by thee, " My love, my life," said I, “explain
Allow this logic to be good ?" This change of humor: pr’ythee tell :
“Sir, will your questions never end ? That falling tear—what does it mean ?"
I trust to neither spy nor friend.
In short, I keep her from the sight She sigh’d; she smil'd ; and, to the flowers
Of every human face.”—“She'll write."Pointing, the lovely moralist said :
"From pen and paper she's debarr’d.”— “ See, friend, in some few fleeting hours,
** Has she a bodkin and a card ? See yonder, what a change is made!
She'll prick her mind.”—“She will, you say:
But how shall she that mind convey ? “Ah, me! the blooming pride of May,
I keep her in one room : I lock it: And that of Beauty, are but one:
The key, (look here,) is in this pocket.”— At morn both flourish bright and gay;
“ The key-hole, is that left ?”—" Most cerBoth fade at evening, pale, and gone.
“She'll thrust her letter through, Sir Martin."* At dawn poor Stella danc'd and sung;
“Dear, angry friend, what must be done? The amorous youth around her bow'd :
“Is there no way ?"-" There is but one. At night her fatal knell was rung;
Send her abroad : and let her see, I saw, and kiss'd her in her shroud.
That all this mingled mass, which she,
Being forbidden, longs to know, • Such as she is, who died to-day;
Is a dull farce, an empty show, Such I, alas! may be to-morrow:
Powder, and pocket-glass, and beau; Go, Damon, bid thy Muse display
A staple of romance and lies,
False lears and real perjuries :
The spoils of ruin'd beauty share;
And youth, seduc'd from friends and fame.
Must give up age to want and shame. Miss Danaë, when fair and young,
Let her behold the frantic scene, (As Horace has divinely sung,)
The women wretched, false the men: Could not be kept from Jove's embrace
And when, these certain ills to shun, By doors of steel, and walls of brass.
She would to thy embraces run,
My softest verse, my darling lyre,
Upon Euphelia's toilet lay ; When Chloe noted her desire, That I should sing, that I should play
My lyre I tune, my voice I raise,
But with my numbers mix my sighs ;
I fix my soul on Chloe's eyes.
I sung, and gaz'd; I play'd and trembled : And Venus to the Loves around
Remark'd, how ill we all dissembled.
THE LADY'S LOOKING-GLASS.
In imitation of a Greek Idyllium.
But, oh the change the winds grow high ; Impending tempests charge the sky;
The lightning flies, the thunder roars,
“Once more, at least, look back," said I,
But when vain doubt and groundless sear
Shipwreck'd, in vain to land I make, While Love and Fate still drive me back : Forc'd to dote on thee thy own way, I chide thee first, and then obey. Wretched when from thee, vex'd when nigh, I with thee, or without thee, die "