The poetical works of Beattie, Blair, and Falconer : With lives, critical dissertations, and explanatory notes

Front matter

THE POETICAL WORKS OF BEATTTE, BLAIR, AND FALCONER. BALLANTYNE, PEIKTEB, EDINBURGH. ' THE POETICAL WORKS OF BEA'TTIE, BLAIR, AND FALCONER fiHitf) H-ftesf, Critical €)tjE.0ertatfon0, and <_Ejcp.anatorp _i3otc0, BY THE REV. GEORGE GILFILLAK EDINBURGH: JAMES NICHOL, 9 NORTH BANK STREET. LONDON : JAMES NISBET AND CO. DUBLIN: W. ROBERTSON. M.DCCC.LIV. CONTENTS. BEATTIE'S POETICAL WORKS. PAGE The Life of James Beattie ...... ix The Minstrel ; or, the Progress of Genius .... 1 Miscellaneous Poems : — Ode to Hope 39 Ode to Peace 43 Ode on Lord Hay's Birthday ..... 48 The Judgment of Paris ...... 52 The Triumph of Melancholy 71 Elegy '. . . .79 Elegy, written in the year 1758 .... 81 Retirement ........ 84 The Hermit 86 On the Report of a Monument to be erected in Westminster Abbey, to the Memory of a late Author (Churchill) . 88 The Battle of the Pigmies and Cranes ... 94 The Hares.

A Fable 100 The Wolf and Shepherds. A Fable . . . .108 Song, in imitation of Shakspeare's " Blow, blow, thou winter wind" ....... Ill To Lady Charlotte Gordon, dressed in a Tartan Scotch Bonnet, with Plumes, &c. VI CONTENTS. I'AGE Epitaph : being part of an Inscription designed for a Monument erected by a Gentleman to the Memory of his Lady 113 Epitaph on Two Young Men of the name of Leitch, who were drowned in crossing the River Southesk . . Hi Epitaph, intended for Himself . . . . .115 BLAIR'S POETICAL WORKS. The Life of Robert Blair .119 The Grave 133 A Poem, dedicated to the Memory of the late learned and eminent Mr William Law, Professor of Philosophy in the University of Edinburgh 156 FALCONER'S POETICAL WORKS. The Life of William Falconer 1G3 The Shipwreck 175 Occasional Elegy, in which the preceding narrative is concluded ........ 264 Miscellaneous Poems : — The Demagogue ....... 2C8 A Poem, sacred to the Memory of His Royal Highness Frederick Prince of Wales . . . . - 282 Ode on the Duke of York's second departure from England as Rear^.dmiral • . 286 The Fond Lover.

A Ballad 294 On the Uncommon Scarcity of Poetry in the Gentleman's Magazine for December last, 1755, by I. TV., a sailor 295 Description of a Ninety-Gun Ship .... POETICAL WORKS OP JAMES BEATTIE. POETRY OF JAMES BEATTIE. James Beattie, the author of the "Minstrel" was born at Laurencekirk, in the county of Kincardineshire — a village situated in that beautiful trough of land called the Howe of the Meams, aud surmounted by the ridge of the Garvock Hills, which divide it from the German Ocean — on the 25th day of October 1735. His father, who was a small farmer and shopkeeper, and who is said to have possessed a turn for literature and versifying, died when James was only seven years old ; but his brother David, the eldest of a family of six, undertook the superintendence of his education till he was fit to go to the parish school.

Preface

. The design was, to trace the progress of a Poetical Genius, bom in a rude age, from the first dawning of fancy and reason, till that period at which he may be supposed capable of appearing in the world as a Minstrel, that is, as an itinerant poet and musician: — a character which, according to the notions of our forefathers, was not only respectable, but sacred. I have endeavoured to imitate Spenser in the measure of his verse, and in the harmony, simplicity, and variety of his composition. Antique expressions I have avoided ; admitting, however, some old words, where they seemed to suit the subject : but I hope none will be found that are now obsolete, or in any degree not intelligible to a reader of English poetry. To those who may be disposed to ask what could induce me to write in so difficult a measure, I can only answer, that it pleases my ear, and seems, from its Gothic structure and original, to bear some relation to the subject and spirit of the poem.

It admits both simplicity and magnificence of sound and of language, beyond any other stanza I am acquainted with. It allows the sententiousness of the couplet, as well as the more complex modulation of blank verse. What some critics have remarked, of its uniformity growing at last tiresome to the ear, will be found to hold true only when the poetry is faulty in other respects. A

Book I

Me vero primum dulces ante omnia Musœ, Quarum sacra fero, ingenti perculsus amore, Accipiant Viro. 1 Ah ! who can tell how hard it is to climb The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar . Ah ! who can tell how many a soul sublime Has felt the influence of malignant star, And waged with Fortune an eternal war — Check'd by the scoff of Pride, by Envy's frown, And Poverty's unconquerable bar — In life's low vale remote has pined alone, Then dropp'd into the grave, unpitied aud unknown . 2 And yet the languor of inglorious days, Not equally oppressive is to all ; Him who ue'er listen'd to the voice of praise, The silence of neglect can ne'er appal. There are, who, deaf to mad Ambition's call, Would shrink to hear the obstreperous trump of Fame ; Supremely blest, if to their portion fall Health, competence, and peace.

Nor higher aim Had he whose simple tale these artless lines proclaim. 3 The rolls of fame I will not now explore ; Nor need I here describe, in learned lay, How forth the Minstrel fared in days of yore, Right glad of heart, though homely in array ; His waving locks and beard all hoary gray ; While from bis bending shoulder, decent hung His harp, the sole companion of his way, Which to the whistling wild responsive rung : And ever as he went some merry lay he sung. Fret not thyself, thou glittering child of pride, That a poor villager inspires my strain ; With thee let Pageantry and Power abide : The gentle Muses haunt the sylvan reign ; Where through wild groves at eve the lonely swain Enraptured roams, to gaze on Nature's charms : They hate the sensual and scorn the vain, The parasite their influence never warms, Nor him whose sordid soul the love of gold alarms. 5 Though richest hues the peacock's plumes adorn, Yet horror screams from his discordant throat.

Rise, sons of harmony, and hail the morn, While warbling larks on russet pinions float : Or seek at noon the woodland scene remote, Where the grey linnets carol from the bill. Oh, let them ne'er, with artificial note, To please a tyrant, strain the little bill, But sing what Heaven inspires, and wander where they will! 6 Liberal, not lavish, is kind Nature's hand ; Nor was perfection made for man below ; Yet all her schemes with nicest art are plann'd ; Good counteracting ill, and gladness woe. With gold and gems if Chilian mountains glow ; If bleak and barren Scotia's hills arise ; There plague and poison, lust and rapine grow ; Here, peaceful are the vales, and pure the skies, And Freedom fires the soul, and sparkles in the eyes. 7 Then grieve not, thou, to whom the indulgent Muse Vouchsafes a portion of celestial fire ; Nor blame the partial Fates, if they refuse The imperial banquet and the rich attire.

Know thine own worth, and reverence the lyre. Wilt thou debase the heart which God refined ? No ; let thy heaven-taught soul to Heaven aspire, To fancy, freedom, harmony resign'd ; Ambition's grovelling crew for ever left behind. 8 Canst thou forego the pure ethereal soul In each fine sense so exquisitely keen, On the dull couch of Luxury to loll, Stung with disease, and stupified with spleen ; Fain to implore the aid of Flattery's screen, Even from thyself thy loathsome heart to hide (The mansion then no more of joy serene), Where fear, distrust, malevolence abide, And impotent desire, aud disappointed pride . 9 Oh, how canst thou renounce the boundless store Of charms which Nature to her votary yields . The warbling woodland, the resounding shore, The pomp of groves, and garniture of fields .

All that the genial ray of morning gilds, And all that echoes to the song of even, All that the mountain's sheltering bosom shields, And all the dread magnificence of heaven, Oh, how canst thou renounce, and hope to be forgiven . 10 These charms shall work thy soul's eternal health, And love, and gentleness, and joy impart. But these thou must renounce, if lust of wealth E'er win its way to thy corrupted heart : For, ah ! it poisons like a scorpion's dart ; Prompting the ungenerous wish, the selfish scheme, The stern resolve, unmoved by pity's smart, The troublous day, and long distressful dream. Return, my roving Muse, resume thy purposed theme. There lived in Gothic days, as legends tell, A shepherd-swain, a man of low degree ; Whose sires, perchance, in Fairyland might dwell, Sicilian groves, or vales of Arcady ; But he, I ween, was of the north countrie ; 1 A nation famed for song and beauty's charms ; Zealous, yet modest ; innocent, though free ; Patient of toil ; serene amidst alarms ; Inflexible in faith; invincible in arms. 12 The shepherd swain of whom I mention made, On Scotia's mountains fed his little flock ; The sickle, scythe, or plough he never sway'd : An honest heart was almost all his stock ; His drink the living water from the rock : The milky dams supplied his board, and lent Their kindly fleece to baffle winter's shock; And he, though oft with dust and sweat besprent, Did guide and guard their wanderings, wberesoe'er they went. 13 From labour, health, from health, contentment, springs; Contentment opes the source of every joy.

He envied not, he never thought of kings ; Nor from those appetites sustain'd annoy, That chance may frustrate, or indulgence cloy; Nor Fate his calm and humble hopes beguiled ; He mourn'd no recreant friend, nor mistress coy, For on his vows the blameless Phœbe smiled, And her alone he loved, and loved her from a child. 1 There is hardly an ancient ballad, or romance, wherein a minstrel or a harper appears, but he is characterized, by way of eminence, to have been ' of the north countrie.' It is probable, that under this appellation were for merly comprehended all the provinces to the north of the Trent.— See Percy's Essay on the English Minstrels. No jealousy their dawn of love o'ercast, Nor blasted were their wedded days with strife ; Each season look'd delightful, as it pass'd, To the fond husband, and the faithful wife.

Beyond the lowly vale of shepherd life They never roam'd : secure beneath the storm Which in Ambition's lofty hand is rife, Where peace and love are canker'd by the worm Of pride, each bud of joy industrious to deform. 15 The wight whose tale these artless lines unfold, Was all the offspring of this bumble pair : His birth no oracle or seer foretold ; No prodigy appear'd in earth or air, Nor aught that might a strange event declare. You guess each circumstance of Edwin's birth ; The parent's transport, and the parent's care; The gossip's prayer for wealth, and wit, and worth ; Aud one long summer day of indolence and mirth. 1 6 And yet poor Edwin was no vulgar boy ; Deep thought oft seem'd to fix his infant eye. Dainties he heeded not, nor gaude, nor toy, Save one short pipe of rudest minstrelsy : Silent when glad; affectionate, though shy; And now his look was most demurely sad ; And now he laugh'd aloud, yet none knew why.

The neighbours stared and sigh'd, yet bless'd the lad : Some deem'd him wondrous wise, and some believed him mad. 1 7 But why should I his childish feats display . Concourse, and noise, and toil he ever fled ; Nor cared to mingle in the clamorous fray Of squabbling imps ; but to the forest sped, Or roam'd at large the lonely mountain's head, Or, where the maze of some be wilder'd stream To deep untrodden groves his footsteps led, There would he wander wild, till Phœbus' beam, Shot from the western cliff, released the weary team. 18 The exploit of strength, dexterity, or speed, To him nor vanity nor joy could bring. His heart, from cruel sport estranged, would bleed To work the woe of any living thing, By trap, or net ; by arrow, or by sling : These he detested ; those he scorn'd to wield ; He wish'd to be the guardian, not the king, Tyrant far less, or traitor of the field.

And sure the sylvan reign unbloody joy might yield. 19 Lo! where the stripling, wrapt in wonder, roves Beneath the precipice o'erhung with pine ; And sees, on high, amidst the encircling groves, From cliff to cliff the foaming torrents shine : While waters, woods, and winds in concert join, And Echo swells the chorus to the skies. Would Edwin this majestic scene resign For aught the huntsman's puny craft supplies . Ah ! no ; he better knows great Nature's charms to prize. 20 And oft he traced the uplands, to survey, When o'er the sky advanced the kindling dawn, The crimson cloud, blue main, and mountain gray, And lake, dim-gleaming on the smoky lawn : Far to the west the long long vale withdrawn, Where twilight loves to linger for a while ; And now he faintly kens the bounding fawn, And villager abroad at early toil.

But, lo ! the Sun appears, and heaven, earth, ocean smile ! '3 21 *And oft the craggy cliff he loved to climb, When all in mist the world below was lost. What dreadful pleasure ! there to stand sublime, Like shipwreck'd mariner on desert coast, And view the enormous waste of vapour, toss'd In billows/lengthening to the horizon round, Now scoop'd in gulfs, with mountains now emboss'd ! And hear the voice of mirth and song rebound, Flocks, herds, and waterfalls, along the hoar profound! 22 In truth he was a strange and wayward wight, Fond of each gentle, and each dreadful scene. In darkness, and in storm, he found delight : Nor less than when on ocean-wave serene The southern Sun diffused his dazzling sheen,1 Even sad vicissitude amused his soul : And if a sigh would sometimes intervene, And down his cheek a tear of pity roll, A sigh, a tear, so sweet, he wish'd not to control. 23 " 0 ye wild groves ! 0 where is now your bloom .

" (The Muse interprets thus his tender thought) " Your flowers, your verdure, and your balmy gloom, Of late so grateful in the hour of drought ? Why do the birds, that song and rapture brought To all your bowers, their mansions now forsake . Ah ! why has fickle chance this ruin wrought . For now the storm howls mournful through the brake. And the dead foliage flies in many a shapeless flake. 24 " Where now the rill, melodious, pure, and cool, And meads, with life and mirth and beauty crown'd . 1 ' Dazzling sheen : ' Brightness, splendour. The word is used by some late writers, as well aa by Milton. Ah ! see, the unsightly slime and sluggish pool, Have all the solitary vale imbrown'd ; Fled each fair form, and mute each melting sound, The raven croaks forlorn on naked spray : And, hark ! the river, bursting every mound, Down the vale thunders, and with wasteful sway Uproots the grove, and rolls the shatter'd rocks away. 25 " Yet such the destiny of all on earth !

So flourishes and fades majestic Man. Fair is the bud his vernal morn brings forth, And fostering gales awhile the nursling fan. Oh, smile, ye heavens serene ! ye mildews wan, Ye blighting whirlwinds, spare his balmy prime, Nor lessen of his life the little span ! Borne on the swift, though silent wings of Time, Old age comes on apace to ravage all the clime. 26 " And be it so. Let those deplore their doom, Whose hope still grovels in this dark sojourn : But lofty souls, who look beyond the tomb, Can smile at Fate, and wonder how they mourn. Shall Spring to these sad scenes no more return? Is yonder wave the Sun's eternal bed . Soon shall the orient with new lustre burn, And Spring shall soon her vital influence shed, Again attune the grove, again adorn the mead. 27 "Shall I be left forgotten in the dust, When Fate, relenting, lets the flower revive 1 Shall Nature's voice, to man alone unjust, Bid him, though doom'd to perish, hope to live .

Is it for this fair Virtue oft must strive With disappointment, penury, and pain ? No ! Heaven's immortal springs shall yet arrive, And man's majestic beauty bloom again, Bright through the eternal year of Love's triumphant reign." 28 This truth sublime his simple sire had taught : In sooth, 'twas almost all the shepherd knew. No subtle nor superfluous lore lie sought, Nor ever wish'd his Edwin to pursue. " Let man's own sphere," said he, " confine his view ; Be man's peculiar work his sole delight." And much, and oft, he warn'd him to eschew Falsehood and guile, and aye maintain the right, By pleasure unseduced, unawed by lawless might 29 "And from the prayer of Want, and plaint of Woe, 0 never, never turn away thine ear ! Forlorn, in this bleak wilderness below, Ah ! what were man, should Heaven refuse to hear !

To others do (the law is not severe) What to thyself thou wishest to be done. Forgive thy foes ; and love thy parents dear, And friends, and native land ; nor those alone : All human weal and woe learn thou to make thine own." 30 See, in the rear of the warm sunny shower The visionary boy from shelter fly; For now the storm of summer rain is o'er, And cool, and fresh, aud fragrant is the sky. And, lo ! in the dark east, expanded high, The rainbow brightens to the setting Sun ! Fond fool, that deem'st the streaming glory nigh, How vain the chase thine ardour has begun ! 'Tis fled afar, ere half thy purposed race be run. Yet couldst thou learn that thus it fares with age, When pleasure, wealth, or power the bosom warm ; This baffled hope might tame thy manhood's rage, And disappointment of her sting disarm.

But why should foresight thy fond heart alarm . Perish the lore that deadens young desire ! Pursue, poor imp, the imaginary charm, Indulge gay hope, and fancy's pleasing fire : Fancy and hope too soon shall of themselves expire. 32 When the long-sounding curfew from afar Loaded with loud lament the lonely gale, Young Edwin, lighted by the evening star, Lingering and listening, wander'd down the vale. There would he dream of graves, and corses pale, And ghosts that to the charnel-dungeon throng, And drag a length of clanking chain, and wail, Till silenced by the owl's terrific song, Or blast that shrieks by fits the shuddering aisles along, 33 Or, when the setting Moon, in crimson dyed, Hung o'er the dark and melancholy deep, To haunted stream, remote from man, he hied, Where fays of yore their revels wont to keep ; And there let Fancy rove at large, till sleep A vision brought to his entranced sight.

And first, a wildly murmuring wind 'gan creep Shrill to his ringing ear; then tapers bright, With instantaneous gleam, illumed the vault of night. 34 Anon in view a portal's blazon'd arch Arose ; the trumpet bids the valves unfold ; And forth a host of little warriors march, Grasping the diamond lance, and targe of gold. Their look was gentle, their demeanour bold, And green their helms, and green their silk attire ; And here and there, right venerably old, The long-robed minstrels wake the warbling wire, And some with mellow breath the martial pipe inspire. 35 With merriment, aud song, and timbrels clear, A troop of dames from myrtle bowers advance ; The little warriors doff the targe and spear, And loud enlivening strains provoke the dance. They meet, they dart away, they wheel askance ; To right, to left, they thread the flying maze ; Now bound aloft with vigorous spring, then glance Rapid along : with many-colour 'd rays Of tapers, gems, and gold, the echoing forests blaze. 36 The dream is fled.

Proud harbinger of day, Who scar'dst the vision with thy clarion shrill, Fell chanticleer; who oft hath reft away My fancied good, and brought substantial ill ! Oh, to thy cursed scream, discordant still, Let harmony aye shut her gentle ear : Thy boastful mirth let jealous rivals spill, Insult thy crest, and glossy pinions tear, And ever in thy dreams the ruthless fox appear ! 37 Forbear, my Muse. Let Love attune thy line. Revoke the spell. Thine Edwin frets not so. For how should he at wicked chance repine, Who feels from every change amusement flow . Even now his eyes with smiles of rapture glow, As on he wanders through the scenes of morn, Where the fresh flowers in living lustre blow, Where thousand pearls the dewy lawns adorn, A thousand notes of joy in every breeze are borne. 38 But who the melodies of morn can tell 1 The wild brook babbling down the mountain side ; The lowing herd ; the sheepfold's simple bell ; The pipe of early shepherd dim descried In the lone valley ; echoing far and wide The clamorous horn along the cliffs above ; The hollow murmur of the ocean-tide ; The hum of bees, the linnet's lay of love, And the full choir that wakes the universal grove. 39 The cottage curs at early pilgrim bark; Crown'd with her pail the tripping milkmaid sings ; The whistling ploughman stalks afield ; and, hark !

Down the rough slope the ponderous waggon rings ; Through rustling corn the hare astonish'd springs ; Slow tolls the village clock the drowsy hour; The partridge bursts away on whirring wings ; Deep mourns the turtle in sequester'd bower, And shrill lark carols clear from her aerial tour. 40 0 Nature, how in every charm supreme ! Whose votaries feast on raptures ever new! 0 for the voice and fire of seraphim, To sing thy glories with devotion due ! Blest be the day I 'scaped the wrangling crew, From Pyrrho's maze, and Epicurus' sty ; And held high converse with the godlike few, Who to the enraptured heart, and ear_ and eye, Teach beauty, virtue, truth, and love, and melody. Hence! ye, who snare and stupify the mind, Sophists ! of beauty, virtue, joy, the bane ! Greedy and fell, though impotent and blind, Who spread your filthy nets in Truth's fair fane, And ever ply your venom'd fangs amain !

Hence to dark Error's den, whose rankling slime First gave you form! Hence ! lest the Muse should deign (Though loth on theme so mean to waste a rhyme), With vengeance to pursue your sacrdegious crime. 42 But hail, ye mighty masters of the lay, Nature's true sons, the friends of man and truth ! Whose song, sublimely sweet, serenely gay, Amused my childhood, and inform'd my youth. 0 let your spirit still my bosom soothe, Inspire my dreams, and my wild wanderings guide ; Your voice each rugged path of life can smooth, For well I know, wherever ye reside, There harmony, and peace, and innocence abide. 43 Ah me ! neglected on the lonesome plain, As yet poor Edwin never knew your lore, Save when against the winter's drenching rain, And driving snow, the cottage shut the door. Then, as instructed by tradition hoar, Her legend when the beldam 'gan impart, Or chant the old heroic ditty o'er, Wonder and joy ran thrilling to his heart ; Much he the tale admired, but more the tuneful art. 44 Various and strange was the long-winded tale ; And halls, and knights, and feats of arms display'd ; Or merry swains, who quaff" the nut-brown ale, And sing enamour'd of the nut-brown maid ; The moonlight revel of the fairy glade ; Or hags, that suckle an infernal brood, And ply in caves the unutterable trade,1 'Midst fiends and spectres quench the Moon in blood, Yell in the midnight storm, or ride the infuriate flood. 45 But when to horror his amazement rose, A gentler strain the beldam would rehearse, A tale of rural life, a tale of woes, The orphan babes, and guardian uncle fierce. 0 cruel ! will no pang of pity pierce That heart, by lust of lucre sear'd to stone .

For sure, if aught of virtue last, or verse, To latest times shall tender souls bemoan Those hopeless orphan babes by thy fell arts undone. 46 Behold, with berries smear'd, with brambles torn,2 The babes, now famish'd, lay them down to die : Amidst the howl of darksome woods forlorn, Folded in one another's arms they lie ; Nor friend, nor stranger, hears their dying cry : " For from the town the man returns no more." But thou, who Heaven's just vengeance dar'st defy, This deed with fruitless tears shalt soon deplore, When Death lays waste thy house, and flames consume thy store. 47 A stifled smile of stern vindictive joy Brighten'd one moment Edwin's starting tear, — 1 Allusion to Shakspeare : — Mac. How now, ye secret, black, and midnight hags, What is't ye do ? Wit. A deed without a name. — Macbeth, Act 4, Scene 1.

J See the fine old ballad called, ' The ChUdren in the Wood.' end . " But why should gold man's feeble mind decoy, And innocence thus die by doom severe ?" 0 Edwin ! while thy heart is yet sincere, The assaults of discontent aud doubt repel : Dark even at noontide is our mortal sphere ; But let us hope ; to doubt is to rebel : Let us exult in hope, that all shall yet be well. 48 Nor be thy generous indignation check'd, Nor check'd the tender tear to Misery given ; From Guilt's contagious power shall that protect, This soften and refine the soul for Heaven. But dreadful is their doom whom doubt has driven To censure Fate, and pious Hope forego: Like yonder blasted boughs by lightning riven, Perfection, beauty, life, they never know, But frown on all that pass, a monument of woe. 49 Shall he whose birth, maturity, and age Scarce fill the circle of one summer day, Shall the poor gnat, with discontent and rage, Exclaim that Nature hastens to decay, If but a cloud obstruct the solar ray, If but a momentary shower descend .

Or shall frail man Heaven's dread decree gainsay, Which bade the series of events extend Wide through unnumber'd worlds, and ages without 50 One part, one little part, we dimly scan Through the dark medium of life's feverish dream ; Yet dare arraign the whole stupendous plan, If but that little part incongruous seem. Nor is that part perhaps what mortals deem ; Oft from apparent ill our blessings rise. 0, then, renounce that impious self-esteem, That aims to trace the secrets of the skies : For thou art but of dust ; be humble, and be wise. 51 Thus Heaven enlarged his soul in riper years. For Nature gave him strength and fire, to soar On Fancy's wing above this vale of tears ; Where dark cold-hearted sceptics, creeping, pore Through microscope of metaphysic lore ; And much they grope for Truth, but never hit.

For why . Their powers, inadequate before, This idle art makes more and more unfit ; Yet deem they darkness light, and their vain blunders wit. 52 Nor was this ancient dame a foe to mirth. Her ballad, jest, and riddle's quaint device Oft cheer'd the shepherds round their social hearth ; Whom levity or spleen could ne'er entice To purchase chat or laughter, at the price Of decency. Nor let it faith exceed, That Nature forms a rustic taste so nice. Ah ! had they been of court or city breed, Such delicacy were right marvellous indeed. 53 Oft when the winter storm had ceased to rave, He roam'd the snowy waste at even, to view The cloud stupendous, from the Atlantic wave High-towering, sail along the horizon blue; Where, 'midst the changeful scenery, ever new, Fancy a thousand wondrous forms descries, More wildly great than ever pencil drew, Rocks, torrents, gulfs, and shapes of giant size, And glittering cliffs on cliffs, and fiery ramparts rise.

B Thence musing onward to the sounding shore, The lone enthusiast oft would take his way, Listening, with pleasing dread, to the deep roar Of the wide-weltering waves. In black array, When sulphurous clouds roll'd on the autumnal day, Even then he hasten'd from the haunt of man, Along the trembling wilderness to stray, What time the lightning's fierce career began, And o'er heaven's rending arch the rattling thunder ran. 55 Responsive to the lively pipe, when all In sprightly dance the village youth were join'd, Edwin, of melody aye held in thrall, From the rude gambol far remote reclined, Soothed with the soft notes warbling in the wind, Ah ! then all jollity seem'd noise and folly, To the pure soul by Fancy's fire refined ; Ah ! what is mirth but turbulence unholy, When with the charm compared of heavenly melancholy . 56 Is there a heart that music cannot melt .