Revengeful, malice-working fiends, as fools
Suppose. They dwell, like princes, in the clouds;
Sun their bright pinions in the middle sky;
Or arch their palaces beneath the hills,
With stones inestimable studded so,
That sun or stars were useless there.
Tam. Good heavens!
Had. He bade me look on rugged Caucasus,
Crag piled on crag beyond the utmost ken,
Naked and wild, as if creation's ruins
Were heaped in one immeasurable chain
Of barren mountains, beaten by the storms
Of everlasting winter. But within
Are glorious palaces and domes of light,
Irradiate halls and crystal colonnades,
Vaults set with gems the purchase of a crown,
Blazing with lustre past the noontide beam,
Or, with a milder beauty, mimicking
The mystic signs of changeful Mazzaroth.
Tam. Unheard-of splendour!
Had. There they dwell, and muse,
And wander; beings beautiful, immortal,
Minds vast as heaven, capacious as the sky,
Whose thoughts connect past, present, and to come,
And glow with light intense, imperishable.
Thus, in the sparry chambers of the sea
And air-pavilions, rainbow tabernacles,
They study Nature's secrets, and enjoy
No poor dominion.
Tam. Are they beautiful,
And powerful far beyond the human race?
Had. Man's feeble heart cannot conceive it. When The sage described them, fiery eloquence
Flowed from his lips, his bosom heaved, his eyes Grew bright and mystical; moved by the theme, Like one who feels a deity within.
Tam. Wondrous ! What intercourse have they with men?
Had. Sometimes they deign to intermix with man, But oft with woman.
Attracts them with her gentler virtues, soft,
And beautiful, and heavenly, like themselves.
They have been known to love her with a passion
Stronger than human.
Tam. That surpasses all
You yet have told me.
Had. This the sage affirms;
And Moses, darkly.
Tam. How do they appear?
How manifest their love?
Had. Sometimes 'tis spiritual, signified
By beatific dreams, or more distinct
And glorious apparition. They have stooped
To animate a human form, and love
Tam. Frightful to be so beloved!
Who could endure the horrid thought! What makes Thy cold hand tremble? or is't mine
That feels so deathy?
Had. Dark imaginations haunt me
When I recall the dreadful interview.
Tam. Oh, tell them not: I would not hear them. Had. But why contemn a spirit's love? so high, So glorious, if he haply deigned?
Tam. Forswear
My Maker! love a demon!
Had. No-oh, no—
My thoughts but wandered. Oft, alas! they wander.
Tam. Why dost thou speak so sadly now?
Thine eyes are fixed again upon Arcturus.
Thus ever, when thy drooping spirits ebb,
Thou gazest on that star. Hath it the power
To cause or cure thy melancholy mood?
[He appears lost in thought. Tell me, ascrib'st thou influence to the stars? Had. (starting.) The stars! What know'st thou
Tam. I know that they were made to rule the night.
Had. Like palace lamps! Thou echoest well thy grandsire.
Woman! the stars are living, glorious,
Amazing, infinite!
Tam. Speak not so wildly.
I know them numberless, resplendent, set
As symbols of the countless, countless years
That make eternity.
Oh! mighty, glorious, miserable thought!
Had ye endured like those great sufferers,
Like them, seen ages, myriad ages roll;
Could ye but look into the void abyss
With eyes experienced, unobscured by torments,
Then mightst thou name it, name it feelingly.
Tam. What ails thee, Hadad? Draw me not so close.
Had. Tamar! I need thy love-more than thy love
Tam. Thy cheek is wet with tears-Nay, let us
"Tis late-I cannot, must not linger.
[Breaks from him, and exit. Had. Loved and abhorred! Still, still accursed! [He paces twice or thrice up and down with passionate gestures; then turns his face to the sky, and stands a moment in silence.]
In the illimitable space, in what
Profound of untried misery, when all
His worlds, his rolling orbs of light, that fill
With life and beauty yonder infinite,
Their radiant journey run, for ever set,
Where, where, in what abyss shall I be groaning?
THE COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER.
WHERE yonder humbler spire salutes the eye,
It's vane slow turning in the liquid sky,
Where, in light gambols, healthy striplings sport,
Ambitious learning builds her outer court;
A grave preceptor, there, her usher stands,
And rules without a rod her little bands.
Some half-grown sprigs of learning graced his brow:
Little he knew, though much he wish'd to know,
Enchanted hung o'er Virgil's honey'd lay,
And smiled to see desipient Horace play;
Glean'd scraps of Greek; and, curious, traced afar,
Through Pope's clear glass, the bright Mæonian star.
Yet oft his students at his wisdom stared,
For many a student to his side repair'd,
Surprised, they heard him Dilworth's knots untie,
And tell what lands beyond the Atlantic lie.
Many his faults; his virtues small, and few;
Some little good he did, or strove to do;
Laborious still, he taught the early mind,
And urged to manners meek and thoughts refined;
Truth he impress'd, and every virtue praised;
While infant eyes in wondering silence gazed;
The worth of time would day by day unfold,
And tell them every hour was made of gold.
YE Muses! dames of dignified renown,
Revered alike in country and in town,
Your bard the mysteries of a visit show,
For sure your ladyships those mysteries know:
What is it, then, obliging Sisters! say,
The debt of social visiting to pay?
"Tis not to toil before the idol pier;
To shine the first in fashion's lunar sphere;
By sad engagements forced abroad to roam,
And dread to find the expecting fair at home!
To stop at thirty doors in half a day,
Drop the gilt card, and proudly roll away;
To alight, and yield the hand with nice parade;
Up stairs to rustle in the stiff brocade;
Swim through the drawing-room with studied air,
Catch the pink'd beau, and shade the rival fair;
To sit, to curb, to toss with bridled mien,
Mince the scant speech, and lose a glance between; Unfurl the fan, display the snowy arm,
And ope, with each new motion, some new charm:
Or sit in silent solitude, to spy
Each little failing with malignant eye;
Or chatter with incessancy of tongue,
Careless if kind, or cruel, right or wrong;
To trill of us and ours, of mine and me,
Our house, our coach, our friends, our family,
While all th' excluded circle sit in pain,
And glance their cool contempt or keen disdain :
T' inhale from proud Nanking a sip of tea,
And wave a court'sy trim and flirt away:
Or waste at cards peace, temper, health, and life,
Begin with sullenness, and end in strife;
Lose the rich feast by friendly converse given,
And backward turn from happiness and heaven.
It is in decent habit, plain and neat,
To spend a few choice hours in converse sweet,
Careless of forms, to act th' unstudied part,
To mix in friendship, and to blend the heart;
To choose those happy themes which all must feel,
The moral duties and the household weal,
The tale of sympathy, the kind design,
Where rich affections soften and refine;
T'amuse, to be amused, to bless, be bless'd,
And tune to harmony the common breast;
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