No less a slave than they. Each rumour shakes
The haughty purple, dark and cloudy cares
Involve the aweful throne, that stands erect,
Balanc'd on the wild people's temper'd rage,
And fortify'd with dangerous arts of power.
But death shall shift those scenes of misery;
Then doubtful titles kindle up new wars,
And urge on lingʼring fate; the ensigns blaze
About the camp, and drums and trumpets sound,
Prepare a solemn way to griezly war;
Javelins and bearded spears in ghastly ranks
Erect their shining heads, and round the field
A harvest's seen of formidable death;
Then joins the horrid shock, whose bellowing burst
Torments the shatter'd air, and drowns the groans
Of men below that roll in certain death;
These are the mortal sports, the tragic plays
By man himself embroil'd; the dire debate
Makes the waste desart seem serene and mild,
Where savage nature in one common lies,
By homely cots possess'd; all squalid, wild,
And despicably poor, they range the field,
And feel their share of hunger, care, and pain,
Cheated by flying prey; and now they tear
Their panting flesh; and now with nails unclean
They tug their shaggy beards; and deeply quaff
Of human woe, even when they rudely sip
The flowing stream, or chew the savoury pulp
Of nature's freshest viands; fragrant fruits
Enjoy'd with trembling, and in danger sought.
But where th' appointed limits of a law
Fences the general safety of the world,
No greater quiet reigns; for wanton man,
In giddy frolic, easily leaps o'er
His own invented bounds; hence rapine, fraud,
Revenge, and lust, and all the hideous train
Of nameless ills, distort the meagre mind
To endless shapes of woe. Here misers mourn
Departed gold, and their defrauded heirs
Dire perjuries complain; the blended loads
Of punishment and crime deform the world,
And give no rest to man; with pangs and throes
He enters on the stage; prophetic tears
And infant cries prelude his future woes ;
And all is one continu'd scene of grief,
Till the sad sable curtain falls in death.
But that last act shall in one moment close
Of doubt and darkness; pain shall crack the strings
Of life decay'd; no less the soul convuls'd,
Trembles in anxious cares, and shuddering stands
Afraid to leap into the opening gulf
Of future fate, till all the banks of clay
Fall from beneath his feet: in vain he grasps
The shatter'd reeds that cheat his easy wish.
Reason is now no more; that narrow lamp
(Which with its sickly fires would shoot its beams
To distances unknown, and stretch its rays
Askance my paths, in deepest darkness veil❜d)
Is sunk into his socket; inly there
It burns a dismal light; th' expiring flame
Is choak'd in fumes, and parts in various doubt,
Then the gay glories of the living world
Shall cast their empty varnish, and retire
Out of his feeble view; and rising shade
Sit hov'ring o'er all nature's various face.
Music shall cease, and instruments of joy
Shall fail that sullen hour; nor can the mind
Attend their sounds, when fancies swim in death,
Confus'd and crush'd with cares: for long shall seem
The dreary road, and melancholy dark,
That leads he knows not where. Here empty space
Gapes horrible, and threatens to absorb
All being: yonder sooty demons glare,
And dolorous spectres grin; the shapeless rout
Of wild imagination dance and play
Before his eyes obscure: till all in death
Shall vanish, and the prisoner, now enlarg'd,
Regains the flaming borders of the sky.
He ended. Peals of thunder rend the heavens, And Chaos, from the bottom turn'd, resounds The mighty clangor: All the heavenly host Approve the high decree, and loud they sing Eternal justice; while the guilty troops, Sad with their doom, but sad without despair, Fall fluttering down to Lethe's lake, and there For penance, and the destin'd body, wait.
BY THE REV. WILLIAM MASON, M. A.
HENCE! dull lethargic Peace,
Born in some hoary Beadsman's cell obscure;
Or in Circaean bowers,
Where Manhood dies, and Reason's vigils cease;
Hie to congenial climes,
Where some seraglio's downy tyrant reigns;
Or where Italian swains,
'Midst wavy shades, and myrtle-blooming bowers, Lull their ambrosial hours,
And deck with languid trills their tinkling rhymes.
But rouse, thou God by Furies drest,
In helm with Terror's plumed crest,
In adamantine steel bedight,
Glistening formidably bright,
With step unfix'd and aspect mild ;
Jealous Juno's raging child,
Who thee conceiv'd in Flora's bower,
By touch of rare Olenian flower:
Oft the Goddess sigh'd in vain,
Envying Jove's prolific brain,
And oft she stray'd Olympus round,
Till this specific help she found;
Then fruitful grown, she quits the skies,
To Thracia's sanguine plain she hies,
There teems thee forth, of nervous mold,
Haughty, furious, swift, and bold;
Names thee Mars, and bids thee call
The world from Pleasures flowery thrall.
Come then, Genius of the war,
Roll me in thy iron car ;
And while thy coursers pierce the sky,
Breathing fury as they fly,
Let courage hurry swift before,
All stain'd around with purple gore,
And Victory follow close behind,
With wreath of palm and laurel join'd,
While high above, fair Fame assumes
Her place, and waves her eagle plumes.
Then let the trumpet swell the note,
Roaring rough thro' brazen throat;
Let the drum sonorous beat,
With thick vibrations hoarsely sweet;
Boxen hautboys too be found,
Nor be miss'd the fifes shrill sound;
Nor yet the bagpipe's swelling strain,
Solace sweet to Highland swain.
Whether on some mountain's brow,
Now squeaking high, now droning low,
|