The Minstrel; or the Progress of Genius Part 13

Involved in fire-streaked gloom, the car comes on.

The rus.h.i.+ng steeds grim Terror guides.

His forehead writhed to a relentless frown, Aloft the angry Power of Battles rides.

Grasped in his mighty hand, A mace, tremendous, desolates the land; The tower rolls headlong down the steep, The mountain shrinks before its wasteful sweep.

Chill horror the dissolving limbs invades, Smit by the blasting lightning of his eyes; A deeper gloom invests the howling shades; Stripped is the shattered grove, and every verdure dies.

II. 3.

How startled Phrenzy stares, Bristling her ragged hairs!

Revenge the gory fragment gnaws; See, with her griping vulture claws Imprinted deep, she rends the mangled wound!

Hate whirls her torch sulphureous round.

The shrieks of agony, and clang of arms, Re-echo to the hoa.r.s.e alarms, Her trump terrific blows.

Disparting from behind, the clouds disclose, Of kingly gesture, a gigantic form, That with his scourge sublime rules the careering storm.

III. 1.

Ambition, outside fair! within as foul As fiends of fiercest heart below, Who ride the hurricanes of fire, that roll Their thundering vortex o'er the realms of woe, Yon naked waste survey; Where late was heard the flute's mellifluous lay; Where late the rosy-bosomed hours, In loose array, danced lightly o'er the flowers; Where late the shepherd told his tender tale; And, wakened by the murmuring breeze of morn, The voice of chearful Labour filled the dale; And dove-eyed Plenty smiled, and waved her liberal horn.

III. 2.

Yon ruins, sable from the wasting flame, But mark the once resplendent dome; The frequent corse obstructs the sullen stream, And ghosts glare horrid from the sylvan gloom.

How sadly silent all!

Save where, outstretched beneath yon hanging wall, Pale Famine moans with feeble breath, And Anguish yells, and grinds his b.l.o.o.d.y teeth.

Though vain the Muse, and every melting lay, To touch thy heart, unconscious of remorse!

Know, monster, know, thy hour is on the way; I see, I see the years begin their mighty course.

III. 3.

What scenes of glory rise Before my dazzled eyes!

Young zephyrs wave their wanton wings, And melody celestial rings.

All blooming on the lawn the nymphs advance, And touch the lute, and range the dance: And the blithe shepherds, on the mountain's side, Arrayed in all their rural pride, Exalt the festive note, Inviting Echo from her inmost grot---- But ah! the landscape glows with fainter light; It darkens, swims, and flies for ever from my sight.

IV. 1.

Illusions vain! Can sacred PEACE reside Where sordid gold the breast alarms, Where Cruelty inflames the eye of Pride, And Grandeur wantons in soft Pleasure's arms?

Ambition, these are thine!

These from the soul erase the form divine; And quench the animating fire, That warms the bosom with sublime desire.

Thence the relentless heart forgets to feel, And Hatred triumphs on the o'erwhelming brow, And midnight Rancour grasps the cruel steel; Blaze the blue flames of death, and sound the shrieks of woe.

IV. 2.

From Albion fled, thy once beloved retreat, What regions brighten in thy smile, Creative PEACE! and underneath thy feet See sudden flowers adorn the rugged soil?

In bleak Siberia blows, Waked by thy genial breath, the balmy rose?

Waved over by thy magic wand, Does life inform fell Lybia's burning sand?

Or does some isle thy parting flight detain, Where roves the Indian through primaeval shades; Haunts the pure pleasures of the sylvan reign, And, led by Reason's light, the path of Nature treads?

IV. 3.

On Cuba's utmost steep, Far leaning o'er the deep, The G.o.ddess' pensive form was seen: Her robe, of Nature's varied green, Waved on the gale; grief dimmed her radiant eyes, Her bosom heaved with boding sighs.

She eyed the main; where, gaining on the view, Emerging from the ethereal blue, Midst the dread pomp of war, Blazed the Iberian streamer from afar: She saw; and, on refulgent pinions borne, Slow winged her way sublime, and mingled with the morn.

THE TRIUMPH OF MELANCHOLY.

Memory, be still! why throng upon the thought These scenes so deeply stained with sorrow's dye?

Is there in all thy stores no cheerful draught, To brighten yet once more in Fancy's eye?

Yes--from afar a landscape seems to rise, Embellished by the lavish hand of spring; Thin gilded clouds float lightly through the skies, And laughing loves disport on fluttering wing.

How blest the youth in yonder valley laid!

What smiles in every conscious feature play!

While, to the murmurs of the breezy glade, His merry pipe attunes the rural lay.

Hail, Innocence! whose bosom all serene, Feels not, as yet, the internal tempest roll.

Oh, ne'er may care distract thy placid mein!

Ne'er may the shades of doubt o'erwhelm thy soul!

Vain wis.h.!.+ for lo, in gay attire concealed, Yonder she comes! the heart-inflaming fiend!

(Will no kind power the helpless stripling s.h.i.+eld!) Swift to her destined prey see Pa.s.sion bend!

O smile accurst, to hide the worst designs!

Now with blithe eye she wooes him to be blest; While round her arm, unseen, a serpent twines---- And lo, she hurls it hissing at his breast!

And, instant, lo, his dizzy eyeball swims Ghastly, and reddening darts a frantic glare; Pain, with strong grasp, distorts his writhing limbs, And Fear's cold hand erects his frozen hair.

Is this, O life, is this thy boasted prime!

And does thy spring no happier prospect yield!

Why should the sunbeam paint thy glittering clime, When the keen mildew desolates the field!

How memory pains! Let some gay theme beguile The musing mind, and sooth to soft delight.

Ye images of woe, no more recoil!

Be life's past scenes wrapt in oblivious night.

Now when fierce Winter, armed with wasteful power, Heaves the wild deep that thunders from afar; How sweet to sit in this sequestered bower, To hear, and but to hear, the mingling war!

Ambition here displays no gilded toy, That tempts on desperate wing the soul to rise; Nor Pleasure's paths to wilds of woe decoy, Nor Anguish lurks in Grandeur's proud disguise.

Oft has Contentment cheered this lone abode, With the mild languish of her smiling eye; Here Health in rosy bloom has often glowed, While loose-robed Quiet stood enamoured by.