The Poetical Works of William Lisle Bowles Volume I Part 23

At all events, in an age which I think has produced genuine poetry, if I cannot say "_Ed Io, anchi, sono pittore;_" it will be a consolation to me to reflect, that I have no otherwise courted the muse, than as the consoler of sorrow, the painter of scenes romantic and interesting, the handmaid of good sense, unadulterated feelings, and religious hope.

It was at first intended that the poem should consist of six books; one book being a.s.signed to De Gama, and another to Columbus. These have been compressed. I was the more inclined to this course, as the great subject of the DISCOVERY OF AMERICA is in the hands of such poets as Mr Southey and Mr Rogers.

DONHEAD, _Nov. 3, 1804._

[152] Dedicated to His Royal Highness George Prince of Wales (afterwards George IV.)

a.n.a.lYSIS.

BOOK THE FIRST.

The book opens with the resting of the Ark on the mountains of the great Indian Caucasus, considered by many authors as Ararat: the present state of the _inhabited_ world, contrasted with its melancholy appearance immediately after the flood. The poem returns to the situation of our forefathers on leaving the ark; beautiful evening described. The Angel of Destruction appears to Noah in a dream, and informs him that although he and his family alone have escaped, the VERY ARK, which was the means of his present preservation, shall be the cause of the future triumph of Destruction.

In his dream, the evils in consequence of the discovery of America, the slave-trade, _et cet._, are set before him. Noah, waking from disturbed sleep, ascends the summit of Caucasus. An angel appears to him; tells him that the revelations in his dream were PERMITTED BY THE ALMIGHTY; that he is commissioned to explain everything; he presents to his view the _shadow of the world_ as it exists; regions are pointed out; the dispersion of mankind; the rise of superst.i.tion; the birth of a SAVIOUR, and the triumph of Charity: that navigation shall be the means of extending the knowledge of G.o.d over the globe; and though some evils must take place, happiness and love shall finally prevail upon the earth.

BOOK THE SECOND

Commences with an ardent wish, that as our forefather viewed the world clearly displayed before him in a vision, so we of these late days might be able, through the clouds of time, to look back upon the early ages of the globe; we might then see, in their splendour, Thebes, Edom, _et cet._; but the early history of mankind is obscure, the only certain light is from the sacred writings. By these we are informed of the _dispersion_ of earth's first inhabitants, after the flood. The descendants of HAM, after this dispersion, according to Bruce, having first gained the summits of the Ethiopian mountains, there form subterraneous abodes. In process of time they descend, people Egypt, build Thebes; obscure tradition of the Ark; first make voyages.

Ophir is not long afterwards discovered. This Bruce places, on most respectable authority, at Sofala; I have ventured to place it otherwhere, but still admitting one general idea, that when the way to it overland was attended with difficulties, an easier course was at last opened by sea. As to Ammon's exploits, I must shelter myself under the authority of Sir Isaac Newton. After a sacrifice by the Egyptians, the monsoon sets in. The s.h.i.+ps follow its direction, as the mariners imagine a G.o.d leads them. Hence the discovery of so much of the world by _sea_.

Reflection on commerce. The voyage of Solomon. A description of the glory of TYRE, the most commercial mart of the early world. Tyrian discoveries in the Mediterranean; voyages to the coast of Italy and Spain, to the Straits, and from thence to Britain.

Tyre is destroyed, and the thought naturally arises, that Britain, which, at the time of the splendour of the _maritime Tyrians_, was an obscure island, is now at the summit of maritime renown; while TYRE is a place where only "the fisherman dries his net." This leads to an EULOGIUM ON ENGLAND; and the book concludes with the triumphs of her fleets and armies on that very sh.o.r.e, on which science, and art, and commerce, and MARITIME RENOWN, first arose.

This digression, introducing the siege of Acre, appeared to the author not only natural, but in some measure necessary to break the uniformity of the subject.

BOOK THE THIRD

Commences with the feelings excited by the conclusion of the last, by a warm wish that England may for ages retain her present elevated rank.

This leads to the consideration of her NAVAL OPULENCE, which carries us back to the subject we had left--THE FATE OF TYRE.

The history of the empires succeeding Tyre is touched on: the fall of her destroyer, Babylon; the succession of Cyrus; the character of Cyrus, and his want of enlarged policy, having so many means of encouraging commerce; and his ill-fated expedition to the East Indies.

ALEXANDER THE GREAT first conceives the idea of establis.h.i.+ng a vast MARITIME EMPIRE: in his march of conquest, he proceeds to the last river of the Punjab, the Hyphasis, which descends into the Indus, the sources of which are near the mountains of CAUCASUS, WHERE THE ARK RESTED.

The Indian account of the Deluge, it is well known, resembles most wonderfully the history of Moses. When Alexander can proceed no further, poetical fiction introduces the person of a Brahmin, who relates the history of the Deluge: viz., that _one sacred man was_, in this part of the world, _miraculously preserved by an ark_; the further march of the conqueror towards the holy spot is deprecated: his best glory shall be derived from the sea, and from uniting either world in commerce.

Alexander is animated with the idea; and his fleet, under Nearchus, proceeds down the Indus to the sea. This forms a middle, connected with the account of the Deluge, book first.

BOOK THE FOURTH.

Nearchus' voyage being accomplished, and Alexandria now complete, Commerce is represented as standing on the Pharos, and calling to all nations. The tide of commerce would have flowed still in the track pointed out by the sagacity of Alexander, but that a wider scene, beyond THE ANCIENT WORLD, opens to the VIEW OF DISCOVERY. The use of the magnet is discovered; and Henry of Portugal prosecutes the plan of opening a pa.s.sage along the coast of Africa to the East. One of his s.h.i.+ps on its return from the expedition has been driven from Cape Bojador (the formidable boundary of Portuguese research) by a storm at sea. The isle afterwards called Porto Santo is discovered. The circ.u.mstance related; but the extraordinary appearance of a supernatural shade over the waters at a distance excites many fears and superst.i.tions. The attempt, however, to penetrate the mystery, is resolved on. Zarco reaches the island of Madeira; tomb found; which introduces the episode. At the tomb of the first discoverer (whether this be fanciful or not, is nothing to poetry) the Spirit of Discovery casts her eyes over the globe; she pursues De Gama to the East; history of Camoens touched on; Columbus; sees with triumph the discovery of a new world, and from thence extends her ideas till the great globe is encompa.s.sed; after which she returns to the "tranquil bosom of the Thames," with Drake, the first circ.u.mnavigator, whose s.h.i.+p, after its various perils, being laid up in that river, gives rise to some brief concluding reflections.

BOOK THE FIFTH.

Hitherto we have described only the triumphs of Discovery; but it appears necessary that many incidental evils, special and general, should be mentioned. Fate and miserable end of some great commanders,--of our gallant and benevolent countryman, Cook. After the natural feelings of regret, the mind is led to contemplate the great advantages of his voyages: the health of seamen; the accessions to geographical knowledge; the spirit of humanity and science; his exploring the east part of New-Holland; and being the first to determine the proximity of America to Asia. This circ.u.mstance leads us back from the point whence we set out--THE ARK OF NOAH; and hence we are partly enabled to solve, what has been for so many ages unknown, the difficulty{g} respecting the earth's being peopled from one family.

The poem having thus gained a middle and end, the conclusion of the whole is, that as this uncertainty in the physical world has been by DISCOVERY cleared up, so all the apparent contradictions in the moral world shall be reconciled. We have yet many existing evils to deplore; but when the SUPREME DISPOSER's plan shall have been completed, then the earth, which has been explored and enlightened by discovery and knowledge, shall be destroyed; but the MIND OF MAN, rendered at last perfect, shall endure through all ages, and "justify His ways from whom it sprung."

Such is the outline and plan of the following poem. I have felt myself obliged to give this hasty a.n.a.lysis, thinking that self-defence almost required it, lest a _careless_ reader might charge me with _carelessness of arrangement_.

I must again beg it to be remembered, that History and Poetry are two things; and that the poet has a right to build his system, not on what is exact truth, but on what is, at least, plausible; what will form, in the clearest manner, a WHOLE; and what is most susceptible of poetical ornament.

THE SPIRIT OF DISCOVERY BY SEA.

BOOK THE FIRST.

Awake a louder and a loftier strain!

Beloved harp, whose tones have oft beguiled My solitary sorrows, when I left The scene of happier hours, and wandered far, A pale and drooping stranger; I have sat (While evening listened to the convent bell) On the wild margin of the Rhine, and wooed Thy sympathies, "a-weary of the world,"

And I have found with thee sad fellows.h.i.+p, Yet always sweet, whene'er my languid hand 10 Pa.s.sed carelessly o'er the responsive wires, While unambitious of the laurelled meed That crowns the gifted bard, I only asked Some stealing melodies, the heart might love, And a brief sonnet to beguile my tears!

But I had hope that one day I might wake Thy strings to loftier utterance; and now, Bidding adieu to glens, and woods, and streams, And turning where, magnificent and vast, Main Ocean bursts upon my sight, I strike,-- 20 Rapt in the theme on which I long have mused,-- Strike the loud lyre, and as the blue waves rock, Swell to their solemn roar the deepening chords.

Lift thy indignant billows high, proclaim Thy terrors, Spirit of the h.o.a.ry seas!

I sing thy dread dominion, amid wrecks, And storms, and howling solitudes, to Man Submitted: awful shade of Camoens Bend from the clouds of heaven.

By the bold tones 30 Of minstrelsy, that o'er the unknown surge (Where never daring sail before was spread) Echoed, and startled from his long repose The indignant Phantom[153] of the stormy Cape; Oh, let me think that in the winds I hear Thy animating tones, whilst I pursue With ardent hopes, like thee, my venturous way, And bid the seas resound my song! And thou, Father of Albion's streams, majestic Thames, Amid the glittering scene, whose long-drawn wave 40 Goes noiseless, yet with conscious pride, beneath The thronging vessels' shadows; nor through scenes More fair, the yellow Tagus, or the Nile, That ancient river, winds. THOU to the strain Shalt haply listen, that records the MIGHT Of OCEAN, like a giant at thy feet Vanquished, and yielding to thy gentle state The ancient sceptre of his dread domain!

All was one waste of waves, that buried deep Earth and its mult.i.tudes: the Ark alone, 50 High on the cloudy van of Ararat, Rested; for now the death-commissioned storm Sinks silent, and the eye of day looks out Dim through the haze; while short successive gleams Flit o'er the weltering Deluge as it shrinks, Or the transparent rain-drops, falling few, Distinct and larger glisten. So the Ark Rests upon Ararat; but nought around Its inmates can behold, save o'er th' expanse Of boundless waters, the sun's orient orb 60 Stretching the hull's long shadow, or the moon In silence, through the silver-cinctured clouds, Sailing as she herself were lost, and left In Nature's loneliness!

But oh, sweet Hope, Thou bid'st a tear of holy ecstasy Start to their eye-lids, when at night the Dove, Weary, returns, and lo! an olive leaf Wet in her bill: again she is put forth, When the seventh morn s.h.i.+nes on the h.o.a.r abyss:-- 70 Due evening comes: her wings are heard no more!

The dawn awakes, not cold and dripping sad, But cheered with lovelier suns.h.i.+ne; far away The dark-red mountains slow their naked peaks Upheave above the waste; Imaus[154] gleams; Fume the huge torrents on his desert sides; Till at the awful voice of Him who rules The storm, the ancient Father and his train On the dry land descend.

Here let us pause. 80 No noise in the vast circuit of the globe Is heard; no sound of human stirring: none Of pasturing herds, or wandering flocks; nor song Of birds that solace the forsaken woods From morn till eve; save in that spot that holds The sacred Ark: there the glad sounds ascend, And Nature listens to the breath of Life.

The fleet horse bounds, high-neighing to the wind That lifts his streaming mane; the heifer lows; Loud sings the lark amid the rainbow's hues; 90 The lion lifts him muttering; MAN comes forth-- He kneels upon the earth--he kisses it; And to the G.o.d who stretched that radiant bow, He lifts his trembling transports.

From one spot Alone of earth such sounds ascend. How changed The human prospect! when from realm to realm, From sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e, from isle to furthest isle, Flung to the stormy main, man's murmuring race, Various and countless as the sh.e.l.ls that strew 100 The ocean's winding marge, are spread; from sh.o.r.es Sinensian, where the pa.s.sing proas gleam Innumerous 'mid the floating villages: To Acapulco west, where laden deep With gold and gems rolls the superb galleon, Shadowing the h.o.a.r Pacific: from the North, Where on some snowy promontory's height The Lapland wizard beats his drum, and calls The spirits of the winds, to th' utmost South, Where savage Fuego shoots its cold white peaks, 110 Dreariest of lands, and the poor Pecherais[155]

s.h.i.+ver and moan along its waste of snows.

So stirs the earth; and for the Ark that pa.s.sed Alone and darkling o'er the dread abyss, Ten thousand and ten thousand barks are seen Fervent and glancing on the friths and sounds; From the Bermudian that, with masts inclined, Shoots like a dart along; to the tall s.h.i.+p That, like a stately swan, in conscious pride b.r.e.a.s.t.s beautiful the rising surge, and throws 120 The gathered waters back, and seems to move A living thing, along her lucid way Streaming in white-winged glory to the sun!

Some waft the treasures of the east; some bear Their country's dark artillery o'er the surge Frowning; some in the southern solitudes, Bound on discovery of new regions, spread, 'Mid rocks of driving ice, that crash around, Their weather-beaten mainsail; or explore Their perilous way from isle to isle, and wind 130 The tender social tie; connecting man, Wherever scattered, with his fellow-man.

How many ages rolled away ere thus, From NATURE'S GENERAL WRECK, the world's great scene Was tenanted! See from their sad abode, At Heaven's dread voice, heard from the solitude, As in the dayspring of created things, The sad survivors of a buried world Come forth; on them, though desolate their seat, The sky looks down with smiles; for the broad sun, 140 That to the west slopes his untired career, Hangs o'er the water's brim. The aged sire, Now rising from his evening sacrifice, Amid his offspring stands, and lifts his eyes, Moist with a tear, to the bright bow: the fire Yet on the altar burns, whose trailing fume Goes slowly up, and marks the lucid cope Of the soft sky, where distant clouds hang still And beautiful. So placid Evening steals After the lurid storm, like a sweet form 150 Of fairy following a perturbed shape Of giant terror, that in darkness strode.

Slow sinks the lord of day; the cl.u.s.tering clouds More ardent burn; confusion of rich hues, Crimson, and gold, and purple, bright, inlay Their varied edges; till before the eye, As their last l.u.s.tre fades, small silver stars Succeed; and twinkling each in its own sphere, Thick as the frost's unnumbered spangles, strew The slowly-paling heavens. Tired Nature seems 160 Like one who, struggling long for life, had beat The billows, and scarce gained a desert crag, O'er-spent, to sink to rest: the tranquil airs Whisper repose. Now sunk in sleep reclines The Father of the world; then the sole moon Mounts high in shadowy beauty; every cloud Retires, as in the blue s.p.a.ce she moves on Amid the fulgent orbs supreme, and looks The queen of heaven and earth. Stilly the streams Retiring sound; midnight's high hollow vault 170 Faint echoes; stilly sound the distant streams.

When, hark! a strange and mingled wail, and cries As of ten thousand thousand peris.h.i.+ng!

A phantom, 'mid the shadows of the dead, Before the holy Patriarch, as he slept, Stood terrible:--Dark as a storm it stood Of thunder and of winds, like hollow seas Remote; meantime a voice was heard: Behold, Noah, the foe of thy weak race! my name Destruction, whom thy sons in yonder plains 180 Shall wors.h.i.+p, and all grim, with mooned horns Paint fabling: when the flood from off the earth Before it swept the living mult.i.tudes, I rode amid the hurricane; I heard The universal shriek of all that lived.

In vain they climbed the rocky heights: I struck The adamantine mountains, and like dust They crumbled in the billowy foam. My hall, Deep in the centre of the seas, received The victims as they sank! Then, with dark joy, 190 I sat amid ten thousand carcases, That weltered at my feet! But THOU and THINE Have braved my utmost fury: what remains But vengeance, vengeance on thy hated race;-- And be that sheltering shrine the instrument!

Thence, taught to stem the wild sea when it roars, In after-times to lands remote, where roamed The naked man and his wan progeny, They, more instructed in the fatal use Of arts and arms, shall ply their way; and thou 200 Wouldst bid the great deep cover thee to see The sorrows of thy miserable sons: But turn, and view in part the truths I speak.

He said, and vanished with a dismal sound Of lamentation from his grisly troop.

Then saw the just man in his dream what seemed A new and savage land: huge forests stretched Their world of wood, shading like night the banks Of torrent-foaming rivers, many a league Wandering and lost in solitudes; green isles 210 Here shone, and scattered huts beneath the shade Of branching palms were seen; whilst in the sun A naked infant playing, stretched his hand To reach a speckled snake, that through the leaves Oft darted, or its s.h.i.+ning volumes rolled Erratic.

From the woods a sable man Came, as from hunting; in his arms he took The smiling child, that with the feathers played Which nodded on his brow; the sheltering hut 220 Received them, and the cheerful smoke went up Above the silent woods.

Anon was heard The sound as of strange thunder, from the mouths Of hollow engines, as, with white sails spread, Tall vessels, hulled like the great Ark, approached The verdant sh.o.r.es: they, in a woody cove Safe-stationed, hang their pennants motionless Beneath the palms. Meantime, with shouts and song, The boat rows hurrying to the land; nor long 230 Ere the great sea for many a league is tinged, While corpse on corpse, down the red torrent rolled,[156]

Floats, and the inmost forests murmur--Blood.

Now vast savannahs meet the view, where high Above the arid gra.s.s the serpent lifts His tawny crest:--Not far a vessel rides Upon the sunny main, and to the sh.o.r.e Black savage tribes a mournful captive urge, Who looks to heaven with anguish. Him they cast Bound in the rank hold of the prison-s.h.i.+p, 240 With many a sad a.s.sociate in despair, Each panting chained to his allotted s.p.a.ce; And moaning, whilst their wasted eye-b.a.l.l.s roll.

Another scene appears: the naked slave Writhes to the b.l.o.o.d.y lash; but more to view Nature forbad, for starting from his dream The just Man woke. Shuddering he gazed around; He saw the earliest beam of morning s.h.i.+ne Slant on the hills without; he heard the breath Of placid kine, but troubled thoughts and sad 250 Arose. He wandered forth; and now far on, By heavy musings led, reached a ravine Most mild amid the tempest-riven rocks, Through whose dark pa.s.s he saw the flood remote Gray-spreading, while the mists of morn went up.