Soft maids and village hinds shall bring
Each opening sweet of earliest bloom,
And rifle all the breathing spring.
No wailing ghost shall dare appear 5
To vex with shrieks this quiet grove;
But shepherd lads assemble here,
And melting virgins own their love.
No wither'd witch shall here be seen;
No goblins lead their nightly crew: 10
The female fays shall haunt the green,
And dress thy grave with pearly dew!
The redbreast oft, at evening hours,
Shall kindly lend his little aid,
With hoary moss, and gather'd flowers, 15
To deck the ground where thou art laid.
When howling winds, and beating rain,
In tempests shake the sylvan cell;
Or 'midst the chase, on every plain,
The tender thought on thee shall dwell; 20
Each lonely scene shall thee restore;
For thee the tear be duly shed;
Beloved till life can charm no more,
And mourn'd till Pity's self be dead.
VARIATIONS.
Ver.
1. To fair Pastora's grassy tomb
7. But shepherd swains assemble here,
11. But female fays shall haunt the green,
12. And dress thy bed with pearly dew!
17. When chiding winds, and beating rain,
In tempest shake the sylvan cell;
Or 'midst the flocks, on every plain,
21. Each lovely scene shall thee restore;
23. Beloved till life could charm no more,
VERSES
WRITTEN ON A PAPER WHICH CONTAINED A PIECE OF BRIDE-CAKE, GIVEN TO THE
AUTHOR BY A LADY.
Ye curious hands, that, hid from vulgar eyes,
By search profane shall find this hallow'd cake,
With virtue's awe forbear the sacred prize,
Nor dare a theft, for love and pity's sake!
This precious relic, form'd by magic power, 5
Beneath her shepherd's haunted pillow laid,
Was meant by love to charm the silent hour,
The secret present of a matchless maid.
The Cyprian queen, at Hymen's fond request,
Each nice ingredient chose with happiest art; 10
Fears, sighs, and wishes of the enamour'd breast,
And pains that please, are mix'd in every part.
With rosy hand the spicy fruit she brought,
From Paphian hills, and fair Cythera's isle;
And temper'd sweet with these the melting thought, 15
The kiss ambrosial, and the yielding smile.
Ambiguous looks, that scorn and yet relent,
Denials mild, and firm unalter'd truth;
Reluctant pride, and amorous faint consent,
And meeting ardours, and exulting youth. 20
Sleep, wayward God! hath sworn, while these remain,
With flattering dreams to dry his nightly tear,
And cheerful Hope, so oft invoked in vain,
With fairy songs shall soothe his pensive ear.
If, bound by vows to Friendship's gentle side, 25
And fond of soul, thou hop'st an equal grace,
If youth or maid thy joys and griefs divide,
O, much entreated, leave this fatal place!
Sweet Peace, who long hath shunn'd my plaintive day,
Consents at length to bring me short delight, 30
Thy careless steps may scare her doves away,
And Grief with raven note usurp the night.
TO MISS AURELIA C----R,
ON HER WEEPING AT HER SISTER'S WEDDING.
Cease, fair Aurelia, cease to mourn,
Lament not Hannah's happy state;
You may be happy in your turn,
And seize the treasure you regret.
With Love united Hymen stands, 5
And softly whispers to your charms,
"Meet but your lover in my bands,
You'll find your sister in his arms."
SONNET.
When Phoebe form'd a wanton smile,
My soul! it reach'd not here:
Strange, that thy peace, thou trembler, flies
Before a rising tear!
From 'midst the drops, my love is born, 5
That o'er those eyelids rove:
Thus issued from a teeming wave
The fabled queen of love.
SONG.
THE SENTIMENTS BORROWED FROM SHAKESPEARE.[62]
Young Damon of the vale is dead,
Ye lowly hamlets, moan;
A dewy turf lies o'er his head,
And at his feet a stone.
His shroud, which Death's cold damps destroy, 5
Of snow-white threads was made:
All mourn'd to see so sweet a boy
In earth for ever laid.
Pale pansies o'er his corpse were placed,
Which, pluck'd before their time, 10
Bestrew'd the boy, like him to waste
And wither in their prime.
But will he ne'er return, whose tongue
Could tune the rural lay?
Ah, no! his bell of peace is rung, 15
His lips are cold as clay.
They bore him out at twilight hour,
The youth who loved so well:
Ah, me! how many a true love shower
Of kind remembrance fell! 20
Each maid was woe--but Lucy chief,
Her grief o'er all was tried;
Within his grave she dropp'd in grief,
And o'er her loved one died.
VARIATION.
Ver.
2. Ye lowland hamlets, moan;
FOOTNOTES:
[62] It is uncertain where this poem appeared. It was inserted in the
Edinburgh edition of the Poets, 1794. A manuscript copy in the
collection recently belonging to Mr. Upcott, and now in the
British Museum, is headed, "Written by Collins when at Winchester
School. From a Manuscript."
ON OUR LATE TASTE IN MUSIC.[[63]]
----Quid vocis modulamen inane juvabat
Verborum sensusque vacans numerique loquacis?
MILTON.
Britons! away with the degenerate pack!
Waft, western winds! the foreign spoilers back!
Enough has been in wild amusements spent,
Let British verse and harmony content!
No music once could charm you like your own, 5
Then tuneful Robinson,[64] and Tofts were known;
Then Purcell touched the strings, while numbers hung
Attentive to the sounds--and blest the song!
E'en gentle Weldon taught us manly notes,
Beyond the enervate thrills of Roman throats! 10
Notes, foreign luxury could ne'er inspire,
That animate the soul, and swell the lyre!
That mend, and not emasculate our hearts,
And teach the love of freedom and of arts.
Nor yet, while guardian Phoebus gilds our isle, 15
Does heaven averse await the muses' toil;
Cherish but once our worth of native race,
The sister-arts shall soon display their face!
Even half discouraged through the gloom they strive,
Smile at neglect, and o'er oblivion live. 20
See Handel, careless of a foreign fame,
Fix on our shore, and boast a Briton's name:
While, placed marmoric in the vocal grove,[65]
He guides the measures listening throngs approve.
Mark silence at the voice of Arne confess'd, 25
Soft as the sweet enchantress rules the breast;
As when transported Venice lent an ear,
Camilla's charms to view, and accents hear![66]
So while she varies the impassion'd song,
Alternate motions on the bosom throng! 30
As heavenly Milton[67] guides her magic voice,
And virtue thus convey'd allures the choice.
Discard soft nonsense in a slavish tongue,
The strain insipid, and the thought unknown;
From truth and nature form the unerring test; 35
Be what is manly, chaste, and good the best!
'Tis not to ape the songsters of the groves,
Through all the quiverings of their wanton loves;
'Tis not the enfeebled thrill, or warbled shake,
The heart can strengthen, or the soul awake! 40
But where the force of energy is found
When the sense rises on the wings of sound;
When reason, with the charms of music twined,
Through the enraptured ear informs the mind;
Bids generous love or soft compassion glow, 45
And forms a tuneful Paradise below!
Oh Britons! if the honour still you boast,
No longer purchase follies at such cost!
No longer let unmeaning sounds invite
To visionary scenes of false delight: 50
When, shame to sense! we see the hero's rage
Lisp'd on the tongue, and danced along the stage!
Or hear in eunuch sounds a hero squeak,
While kingdoms rise or fall upon a shake!
Let them at home to slavery's painted train, 55
With siren art, repeat the pleasing strain:
While we, like wise Ulysses, close our ear
To songs which liberty forbids to hear!
Keep, guardian gales, the infectious guests away,
To charm where priests direct, and slaves obey. 60
Madrid, or wanton Rome, be their delight;
There they may warble as their poets write.
The temper of our isle, though cold, is clear;
And such our genius, noble though severe.
Our Shakespeare scorn'd the trifling rules of art, 65
But knew to conquer and surprise the heart!
In magic chains the captive thought to bind,
And fathom all the depths of human kind!
Too long, our shame, the prostituted herd
Our sense have bubbled, and our wealth have shared. 70
Too long the favourites of our vulgar great
Have bask'd in luxury, and lived in state!
In Tuscan wilds now let them villas rear[68]
Ennobled by the charity we spare.
There let them warble in the tainted breeze, 75
Or sing like widow'd orphans to the trees:
There let them chant their incoherent dreams,
Where howls Charybdis, and where Scylla screams!
Or where Avernus, from his darksome round,
May echo to the winds the blasted sound! 80
As fair Alcyone,[69] with anguish press'd,
Broods o'er the British main with tuneful breast,
Beneath the white-brow'd cliff protected sings,
Or skims the azure plain with painted wings!
Grateful, like her, to nature, and as just, 85
In our domestic blessings let us trust;
Keep for our sons fair learning's honour'd prize,
Till the world own the worth they now despise!
FOOTNOTES:
[63] See Memoir, p. xxxviii.
[64] Now Countess-dowager of Peterborough.
[65] Vauxhall.
[66] Vide the Spectator's Letters from Camilla, vol. vi.
[67] Milton's Comus lately revived.
[68] Senesino has built a palace near Sienna on an estate which carries
the title of a Marquisate, but purchased with English gold.
[69] The king-fisher.
OBSERVATIONS ON THE ORIENTAL ECLOGUES AND ODES.
BY DR. LANGHORNE.
OBSERVATIONS ON THE ORIENTAL ECLOGUES.
The genius of the pastoral, as well as of every other respectable
species of poetry, had its origin in the east, and from thence was
transplanted by the muses of Greece; but whether from the continent of
the Lesser Asia, or from Egypt, which, about the era of the Grecian
pastoral, was the hospitable nurse of letters, it is not easy to
determine. From the subjects, and the manner of Theocritus, one would
incline to the latter opinion, while the history of Bion is in favour of
the former.
However, though it should still remain a doubt through what channel the
pastoral traveled westward, there is not the least shadow of uncertainty
concerning its oriental origin.
In those ages which, guided by sacred chronology, from a comparative
view of time, we call the early ages, it appears, from the most
authentic historians, that the chiefs of the people employed themselves
in rural exercises, and that astronomers and legislators were at the
same time shepherds. Thus Strabo informs us, that the history of the
creation was communicated to the Egyptians by a Chaldean shepherd.
From these circumstances it is evident, not only that such shepherds
were capable of all the dignity and elegance peculiar to poetry, but
that whatever poetry they attempted would be of the pastoral kind; would
take its subjects from those scenes of rural simplicity in which they
were conversant, and, as it was the offspring of harmony and nature,
would employ the powers it derived from the former, to celebrate the
beauty and benevolence of the latter.
Accordingly we find that the most ancient poems treat of agriculture,
astronomy, and other objects within the rural and natural systems.
What constitutes the difference between the georgic and the pastoral,
is love and the colloquial or dramatic form of composition peculiar to
the latter; this form of composition is sometimes dispensed with, and
love and rural imagery alone are thought sufficient to distinguish
the pastoral. The tender passion, however, seems to be essential to
this species of poetry, and is hardly ever excluded from those
pieces that were intended to come under this denomination: even in
those eclogues of the Amoebean kind, whose only purport is a trial of
skill between contending shepherds, love has its usual share, and
the praises of their respective mistresses are the general subjects of
the competitors.
It is to be lamented, that scarce any oriental compositions of this kind
have survived the ravages of ignorance, tyranny, and time; we cannot
doubt that many such have been extant, possibly as far down as that
fatal period, never to be mentioned in the world of letters without
horror, when the glorious monuments of human ingenuity perished in the
ashes of the Alexandrian library.
Those ingenious Greeks, whom we call the parents of pastoral poetry,
were, probably, no more than imitators, of imitators that derived their
harmony from higher and remoter sources, and kindled their poetical
fires at those then unextinguished lamps which burned within the tombs
of oriental genius.
It is evident that Homer has availed himself of those magnificent images
and descriptions so frequently to be met with in the books of the Old
Testament; and why may not Theocritus, Moschus, and Bion have found
their archetypes in other eastern writers, whose names have perished
with their works? yet, though it may not be illiberal to admit such a
supposition, it would certainly be invidious to conclude, what the
malignity of cavillers alone could suggest with regard to Homer, that
they destroyed the sources from which they borrowed, and, as it is
fabled of the young of the pelican, drained their supporters to death.
As the Septuagint translation of the Old Testament was performed at the
request, and under the patronage, of Ptolemy Philadelphus, it were not
to be wondered if Theocritus, who was entertained at that prince's
court, had borrowed some part of his pastoral imagery from the poetical
passages of those books. I think it can hardly be doubted that the
Sicilian poet had in his eye certain expressions of the prophet Isaiah,
when he wrote the following lines:
~Nyn ia men phoreoite batoi, phoreoite d' akanthai.
Ha de kala Narkissos ep' arkeuthoisi komasai;
Panta d' enalla genoito, kai ha pitus ochnas eneikai
----kai tôs kynas hôlaphos helkoi.~
Let vexing brambles the blue violet bear,
On the rude thorn Narcissus dress his hair,
All, all reversed--The pine with pears be crown'd,
And the bold deer shall drag the trembling hound.
The cause, indeed, of these phenomena is very different in the Greek
from what it is in the Hebrew poet; the former employing them on the
death, the latter on the birth, of an important person: but the marks of
imitation are nevertheless obvious.
It might, however, be expected, that if Theocritus had borrowed at all
from the sacred writers, the celebrated pastoral epithalamium of
Solomon, so much within his own walk of poetry, would not certainly
have escaped his notice. His epithalamium on the marriage of Helena,
moreover, gave him an open field for imitation; therefore, if he has any
obligations to the royal bard, we may expect to find them there. The
very opening of the poem is in the spirit of the Hebrew song:
~Houtô dê prôiza katedrathes, ô phile gambre;~
The colour of imitation is still stronger in the following passage:
~Aôs antelloisa kalon diephaine prosôpon,
Potnia nyx hate, leukon ear cheimônos anentos?
Hôde kai ha chrysea Helena diephainet' en amin,
Pieira megala hat' anedrame kosmos aroura.
Hê kapô kyparissos, ê harmati Thessalos hippos.~
This description of Helen is infinitely above the style and figure of
the Sicilian pastoral: "She is like the rising of the golden morning,
when the night departeth, and when the winter is over and gone. She
resembleth the cypress in the garden, the horse in the chariots of
Thessaly." These figures plainly declare their origin; and others,
equally imitative, might be pointed out in the same idyllium.
This beautiful and luxuriant marriage pastoral of Solomon is the only
perfect form of the oriental eclogue that has survived the ruins of
time; a happiness for which it is, probably, more indebted to its
sacred character than to its intrinsic merit. Not that it is by any
means destitute of poetical excellence: like all the eastern poetry, it
is bold, wild, and unconnected in its figures, allusions, and parts, and
has all that graceful and magnificent daring which characterizes its
metaphorical and comparative imagery.
In consequence of these peculiarities, so ill adapted to the frigid
genius of the north, Mr. Collins could make but little use of it as a
precedent for his Oriental Eclogues; and even in his third eclogue,
where the subject is of a similar nature, he has chosen rather to follow
the mode of the Doric and the Latian pastoral.
The scenery and subjects then of the foregoing eclogues alone are
oriental; the style and colouring are purely European; and, for this
reason, the author's preface, in which he intimates that he had the
originals from a merchant who traded to the east, is omitted, as being
now altogether superfluous.[70]
With regard to the merit of these eclogues, it may justly be asserted,
that in simplicity of description and expression, in delicacy and
softness of numbers, and in natural and unaffected tenderness, they are
not to be equaled by any thing of the pastoral kind in the English
language.
FOOTNOTES:
[70] In the present edition the preface is restored.
ECLOGUE I.
This eclogue, which is entitled Selim, or the Shepherd's Moral, as
there is nothing dramatic in the subject, may be thought the least
entertaining of the four: but it is by no means the least valuable.
The moral precepts which the intelligent shepherd delivers to his
fellow-swains, and the virgins their companions, are such as would
infallibly promote the happiness of the pastoral life.
In impersonating the private virtues, the poet has observed great
propriety, and has formed their genealogy with the most perfect
judgment, when he represents them as the daughters of truth and wisdom.
The characteristics of modesty and chastity are extremely happy and
_peinturesque_:
"Come thou, whose thoughts as limpid springs are clear,
To lead the train, sweet Modesty, appear;
With thee be Chastity, of all afraid,
Distrusting all, a wise, suspicious maid;
Cold is her breast, like flowers that drink the dew;
A silken veil conceals her from the view."
The two similes borrowed from rural objects are not only much in
character, but perfectly natural and expressive. There is,
notwithstanding, this defect in the former, that it wants a peculiar
propriety; for purity of thought may as well be applied to chastity as
to modesty; and from this instance, as well as from a thousand more, we
may see the necessity of distinguishing, in characteristic poetry, every
object by marks and attributes peculiarly its own.
It cannot be objected to this eclogue, that it wants both those
essential criteria of the pastoral, love and the drama; for though it
partakes not of the latter, the former still retains an interest in it,
and that too very material, as it professedly consults the virtue and
happiness of the lover, while it informs what are the qualities
----that must lead to love.
ECLOGUE II.
All the advantages that any species of poetry can derive from the
novelty of the subject and scenery, this eclogue possesses. The
route of a camel-driver is a scene that scarce could exist in the
imagination of a European, and of its attendant distresses he could
have no idea.--These are very happily and minutely painted by our
descriptive poet. What sublime simplicity of expression! what
nervous plainness in the opening of the poem!
"In silent horror o'er the boundless waste
The driver Hassan with his camels past."
The magic pencil of the poet brings the whole scene before us at once,
as it were by enchantment; and in this single couplet we feel all the
effect that arises from the terrible wildness of a region unenlivened by
the habitations of men. The verses that describe so minutely the
camel-driver's little provisions have a touching influence on the
imagination, and prepare the reader to enter more feelingly into his
future apprehensions of distress:
"Bethink thee, Hassan, where shall thirst assuage,
When fails this cruise, his unrelenting rage!"
It is difficult to say whether his apostrophe to the "mute companions of
his toils" is more to be admired for the elegance and beauty of the
poetical imagery, or for the tenderness and humanity of the sentiment.
He who can read it without being affected, will do his heart no
injustice if he concludes it to be destitute of sensibility:
"Ye mute companions of my toils, that bear
In all my griefs a more than equal share!
Here, where no springs in murmurs break away,
Or moss-crown'd fountains mitigate the day,
In vain ye hope the green delights to know,
Which plains more blest, or verdant vales, bestow:
Here rocks alone and tasteless sands are found,
And faint and sickly winds for ever howl around."
Yet in these beautiful lines there is a slight error, which writers of
the greatest genius very frequently fall into.--It will be needless to
observe to the accurate reader, that in the fifth and sixth verses there
is a verbal pleonasm where the poet speaks of the _green_ delights of
_verdant_ vales. There is an oversight of the same kind in the Manners,
an Ode, where the poet says,
"----Seine's blue nymphs deplore
In watchet weeds----."
This fault is indeed a common one, but to a reader of taste it is
nevertheless disgustful; and it is mentioned here, as the error of a man
of genius and judgment, that men of genius and judgment may guard
against it.
Mr. Collins speaks like a true poet, as well in sentiment as expression,
when, with regard to the thirst of wealth, he says,
"Why heed we not, while mad we haste along,
The gentle voice of Peace, or Pleasure's song?
Or wherefore think the flowery mountain's side,
The fountain's murmurs, and the valley's pride,
Why think we these less pleasing to behold,
Than dreary deserts, if they lead to gold?"
But however just these sentiments may appear to those who have not
revolted from nature and simplicity, had the author proclaimed them in
Lombard Street, or Cheapside, he would not have been complimented with
the understanding of the bellman.--A striking proof, that our own
particular ideas of happiness regulate our opinions concerning the sense
and wisdom of others!
It is impossible to take leave of this most beautiful eclogue, without
paying the tribute of admiration so justly due to the following nervous
lines:
"What if the lion in his rage I meet!----
Oft in the dust I view his printed feet:
And, fearful! oft, when day's declining light
Yields her pale empire to the mourner night,
By hunger roused, he scours the groaning plain,
Gaunt wolves and sullen tigers in his train:
Before them death with shrieks directs their way,
Fills the wild yell, and leads them to their prey."
This, amongst many other passages to be met with in the writings of
Collins, shows that his genius was perfectly capable of the grand and
magnificent in description, notwithstanding what a learned writer has
advanced to the contrary. Nothing, certainly, could be more greatly
conceived, or more adequately expressed, than the image in the last
couplet.
The deception, sometimes used in rhetoric and poetry, which presents us
with an object or sentiment contrary to what we expected, is here
introduced to the greatest advantage:
"Farewell the youth, whom sighs could not detain,
Whom Zara's breaking heart implored in vain!
Yet, as thou go'st, may every blast arise----
Weak and unfelt as these rejected sighs!"
But this, perhaps, is rather an artificial prettiness, than a real or
natural beauty.
ECLOGUE III.
That innocence, and native simplicity of manners, which, in the first
eclogue, was allowed to constitute the happiness of love, is here
beautifully described in its effects. The sultan of Persia marries a
Georgian shepherdess, and finds in her embraces that genuine felicity
which unperverted nature alone can bestow. The most natural and
beautiful parts of this eclogue are those where the fair sultana refers
with so much pleasure to her pastoral amusements, and those scenes of
happy innocence in which she had passed her early years; particularly
when, upon her first departure,
"Oft as she went, she backward turned her view,
And bade that crook and bleating flock adieu."
This picture of amiable simplicity reminds one of that passage where
Proserpine, when carried off by Pluto, regrets the loss of the flowers
she has been gathering:
"Collecti flores tunicis cecidere remissis:
Tantaque simplicitas puerilibus adfuit annis,
Hæc quoque virgineum movit jactura dolorem."
ECLOGUE IV.