BOOK I.

With what attractive charms this goodly frame

Of Nature touches the consenting hearts

Of mortal men; and what the pleasing stores

Which beauteous Imitation thence derives

To deck the poet's or the painter's toil,

My verse unfolds. Attend, ye gentle Powers

Of musical delight! and while I sing

Your gifts, your honours, dance around my strain.

Thou, smiling queen of every tuneful breast,

Indulgent Fancy! from the fruitful banks

Of Avon, whence thy rosy fingers cull

Fresh flowers and dews to sprinkle on the turf

Where Shakspeare lies, be present: and with thee

Let Fiction come, upon her vagrant wings

Wafting ten thousand colours through the air,

Which, by the glances of her magic eye,

She blends and shifts at will, through countless forms,

Her wild creation. Goddess of the lyre,

Which rules the accents of the moving sphere,

Wilt thou, eternal Harmony, descend

And join this festive train? for with thee comes

The guide, the guardian of their lovely sports,

Majestic Truth; and where Truth deigns to come,

Her sister Liberty will not be far.

Be present all ye Genii, who conduct

The wandering footsteps of the youthful bard,

New to your springs and shades: who touch his ear

With finer sounds: who heighten to his eye

The bloom of Nature, and before him turn

The gayest, happiest attitude of things.

Oft have the laws of each poetic strain

The critic-verse employ'd; yet still unsung

Lay this prime subject, though importing most

A poet's name: for fruitless is the attempt,

By dull obedience and by creeping toil

Obscure to conquer the severe ascent

Of high Parnassus. Nature's kindling breath

Must fire the chosen genius; Nature's hand

Must string his nerves, and imp his eagle-wings,

Impatient of the painful steep, to soar

High as the summit; there to breathe at large

AEthereal air, with bards and sages old,

Immortal sons of praise. These flattering scenes,

To this neglected labour court my song;

Yet not unconscious what a doubtful task

To paint the finest features of the mind,

And to most subtile and mysterious things

Give colour, strength, and motion. But the love

Of Nature and the Muses bids explore,

Through secret paths erewhile untrod by man,

The fair poetic region, to detect

Untasted springs, to drink inspiring draughts,

And shade my temples with unfading flowers

Cull'd from the laureate vale's profound recess,

Where never poet gain'd a wreath before.

From Heaven my strains begin: from Heaven descends

The flame of genius to the human breast,

And love and beauty, and poetic joy

And inspiration. Ere the radiant sun

Sprang from the east, or‘ mid the vault of night

The moon suspended her serener lamp;

Ere mountains, woods, or streams adorn'd the globe,

Or Wisdom taught the sons of men her lore;

Then lived the Almighty One: then, deep retired

In his unfathom'd essence, view'd the forms,

The forms eternal of created things;

The radiant sun, the moon's nocturnal lamp,

The mountains, woods, and streams, the rolling globe,

And Wisdom's mien celestial. From the first

Of days, on them his love divine he fix'd,

His admiration: till in time complete

What he admired and loved, his vital smile

Unfolded into being. Hence the breath

Of life informing each organic frame;

Hence the green earth, and wild resounding wares;

Hence light and shade alternate, warmth and cold,

And clear autumnal skies and vernal showers,

And all the fair variety of things.

But not alike to every mortal eye

Is this great scene unveil'd. For, since the claims

Of social life to different labours urge

The active powers of man, with wise intent

The hand of Nature on peculiar minds

Imprints a different bias, and to each

Decrees its province in the common toil.

To some she taught the fabric of the sphere,

The changeful moon, the circuit of the stars,

The golden zones of heaven; to some she gave

To weigh the moment of eternal things,

Of time, and space, and fate's unbroken chain,

And will's quick impulse; others by the hand

She led o'er vales and mountains, to explore

What healing virtue swells the tender veins

Of herbs and flowers; or what the beams of morn

Draw forth, distilling from the clifted rind

In balmy tears. But some, to higher hopes

Were destined; some within a finer mould

She wrought and temper'd with a purer flame.

To these the Sire Omnipotent unfolds

The world's harmonious volume, there to read

The transcript of Himself. On every part

They trace the bright impressions of his hand:

In earth or air, the meadow's purple stores,

The moon's mild radiance, or the virgin's form

Blooming with rosy smiles, they see portray'd

That uncreated beauty, which delights

The Mind Supreme. They also feel her charms,

Enamour'd; they partake the eternal joy.

For as old Memnon's image, long renown'd

By fabling Nilus, to the quivering touch

Of Titan's ray, with each repulsive string

Consenting, sounded through the warbling air

Unbidden strains, even so did Nature's hand

To certain species of external things,

Attune the finer organs of the mind;

So the glad impulse of congenial powers,

Or of sweet sound, or fair proportion'd form,

The grace of motion, or the bloom of light,

Thrills through Imagination's tender frame,

From nerve to nerve; all naked and alive

They catch the spreading rays; till now the soul

At length discloses every tuneful spring,

To that harmonious movement from without

Responsive. Then the inexpressive strain

Diffuses its enchantment: Fancy dreams

Of sacred fountains and Elysian groves,

And vales of bliss: the intellectual power

Bends from his awful throne a wondering ear,

And smiles: the passions, gently soothed away,

Sink to divine repose, and love and joy

Alone are waking; love and joy, serene

As airs that fan the summer. Oh! attend,

Whoe'er thou art, whom these delights can touch,

Whose candid bosom the refining love

Of Nature warms, oh! listen to my song;

And I will guide thee to her favourite walks,

And teach thy solitude her voice to hear,

And point her loveliest features to thy view.

Know then, whate'er of Nature's pregnant stores,

Whate'er of mimic Art's reflected forms

With love and admiration thus inflame

The powers of Fancy, her delighted sons

To three illustrious orders have referr'd;

Three sister graces, whom the painter's hand,

The poet's tongue confesses — the Sublime,

The Wonderful, the Fair. I see them dawn!

I see the radiant visions, where they rise,

More lovely than when Lucifer displays

His beaming forehead through the gates of morn,

To lead the train of Phoebus and the spring.

Say, why was man so eminently raised

Amid the vast Creation; why ordain'd

Through life and death to dart his piercing eye,

With thoughts beyond the limit of his frame;

But that the Omnipotent might send him forth

In sight of mortal and immortal powers,

As on a boundless theatre, to run

The great career of justice; to exalt

His generous aim to all diviner deeds;

To chase each partial purpose from his breast;

And through the mists of passion and of sense,

And through the tossing tide of chance and pain,

To hold his course unfaltering, while the voice

Of truth and virtue, up the steep ascent

Of nature, calls him to his high reward,

The applauding smile of Heaven? Else wherefore burns

In mortal bosoms this unquenched hope,

That breathes from day to day sublimer things,

And mocks possession? Wherefore darts the mind,

With such resistless ardour to embrace

Majestic forms; impatient to be free,

Spurning the gross control of wilful might;

Proud of the strong contention of her toils;

Proud to be daring? Who but rather turns

To heaven's broad fire his unconstrained view,

Than to the glimmering of a waxen flame?

Who that, from Alpine heights, his labouring eye

Shoots round the wide horizon, to survey

Nilus or Ganges rolling his bright wave

Through mountains, plains, through empires black with shade,

And continents of sand, will turn his gaze

To mark the windings of a scanty rill

That murmurs at his feet? The high-born soul

Disdains to rest her heaven-aspiring wing

Beneath its native quarry. Tired of earth

And this diurnal scene, she springs aloft

Through fields of air; pursues the flying storm;

Rides on the vollied lightning through the heavens;

Or, yoked with whirlwinds and the northern blast,

Sweeps the long tract of day. Then high she soars

The blue profound, and hovering round the sun

Beholds him pouring the redundant stream

Of light; beholds his unrelenting sway

Bend the reluctant planets to absolve

The fated rounds of Time. Thence far effused

She darts her swiftness up the long career

Of devious comets; through its burning signs

Exulting measures the perennial wheel

Of Nature, and looks back on all the stars,

Whose blended light, as with a milky zone,

Invests the orient. Now amazed she views

The empyreal waste, where happy spirits hold,

Beyond this concave heaven, their calm abode;

And fields of radiance, whose unfading light

Has travell'd the profound six thousand years,

Nor yet arrives in sight of mortal things.

Even on the barriers of the world untired

She meditates the eternal depth below;

Till, half recoiling, down the headlong steep

She plunges; soon o'erwhelm' d and swallow'd up

In that immense of being. There her hopes

Rest at the fated goal. For from the birth

Of mortal man, the Sovereign Maker said,

That not in humble nor in brief delight,

Not in the fading echoes of renown,

Power's purple robes, nor pleasure's flowery lap,

The soul should find enjoyment: but from these

Turning disdainful to an equal good,

Through all the ascent of things enlarge her view,

Till every bound at length should disappear,

And infinite perfection close the scene.

Call now to mind what high capacious powers

Lie folded up in man; how far beyond

The praise of mortals, may the eternal growth

Of Nature to perfection half divine,

Expand the blooming soul! What pity then

Should sloth's unkindly fogs depress to earth

Her tender blossom; choke the streams of life,

And blast her spring! Far otherwise design'd

Almighty Wisdom; Nature's happy cares

The obedient heart far otherwise incline.

Witness the sprightly joy when aught unknown

Strikes the quick sense, and wakes each active power

To brisker measures: witness the neglect

Of all familiar prospects, though beheld

With transport once; the fond attentive gaze

Of young astonishment; the sober zeal

Of age, commenting on prodigious things.

For such the bounteous providence of Heaven,

In every breast implanting this desire

Of objects new and strange, to urge us on

With unremitted labour to pursue

Those sacred stores that wait the ripening soul,

In Truth's exhaustless bosom. What need words

To paint its power? For this the daring youth

Breaks from his weeping mother's anxious arms,

In foreign climes to rove; the pensive sage,

Heedless of sleep, or midnight's harmful damp,

Hangs o'er the sickly taper; and untired

The virgin follows, with enchanted step,

The mazes of some wild and wondrous tale,

From morn to eve; unmindful of her form,

Unmindful of the happy dress that stole

The wishes of the youth, when every maid

With envy pined. Hence, finally, by night

The village matron, round the blazing hearth,

Suspends the infant audience with her tales,

Breathing astonishment! of witching rhymes,

And evil spirits; of the death-bed call

Of him who robb'd the widow, and devour'd

The orphan's portion; of unquiet souls

Risen from the grave to ease the heavy guilt

Of deeds in life conceal'd; of shapes that walk

At dead of night, and clank their chains, and wave

The torch of hell around the murderer's bed.

At every solemn pause the crowd recoil,

Gazing each other speechless, and congeal'd

With shivering sighs: till eager for the event,

Around the beldame all erect they hang,

Each trembling heart with grateful terrors quell'd.

But lo! disclosed in all her smiling pomp,

Where Beauty onward moving claims the verse

Her charms inspire: the freely-flowing verse

In thy immortal praise, O form divine,

Smooths her mellifluent stream. Thee, Beauty, thee

The regal dome, and thy enlivening ray

The mossy roofs adore: thou, better sun!

For ever beamest on the enchanted heart

Love, and harmonious wonder, and delight

Poetic. Brightest progeny of Heaven!

How shall I trace thy features? where select

The roseate hues to emulate thy bloom?

Haste then, my song, through Nature's wide expanse,

Haste then, and gather all her comeliest wealth,

Whate'er bright spoils the florid earth contains,

Whate'er the waters, or the liquid air,

To deck thy lovely labour. Wilt thou fly

With laughing Autumn to the Atlantic isles,

And range with him the Hesperian field, and see

Where'er his fingers touch the fruitful grove,

The branches shoot with gold; where'er his step

Marks the glad soil, the tender clusters grow

With purple ripeness, and invest each hill

As with the blushes of an evening sky?

Or wilt thou rather stoop thy vagrant plume,

Where gliding through his daughters honour'd shades,

The smooth Penéus from his glassy flood

Reflects purpureal Tempo's pleasant scene?

Fair Tempe! haunt beloved of sylvan Powers,

Of Nymphs and Fauns; where in the golden age

They play'd in secret on the shady brink

With ancient Pan: while round their choral steps

Young Hours and genial Gales with constant hand

Shower'd blossoms, odours, shower'd ambrosial dews,

And spring's Elysian bloom. Her flowery store

To thee nor Tempe shall refuse; nor watch

Of winged Hydra guard Hesperian fruits

From thy free spoil. Oh, bear then, unreproved,

Thy smiling treasures to the green recess

Where young Dione stays. With sweetest airs

Entice her forth to lend her angel form

For Beauty's honour'd image. Hither turn

Thy graceful footsteps; hither, gentle maid,

Incline thy polish'd forehead: let thy eyes

Effuse the mildness of their azure dawn;

And may the fanning breezes waft aside

Thy radiant locks: disclosing, as it bends

With airy softness from the marble neck,

The cheek fair-blooming, and the rosy lip,

Where winning smiles and pleasures sweet as love,

With sanctity and wisdom, tempering blend

Their soft allurement. Then the pleasing force

Of Nature, and her kind parental care

Worthier I'd sing: then all the enamour'd youth,

With each admiring virgin, to my lyre

Should throng attentive, while I point on high

Where Beauty's living image, like the Morn

That wakes in Zephyr's arms the blushing May,

Moves onward; or as Venus, when she stood

Effulgent on the pearly car, and smiled,

Fresh from the deep, and conscious of her form,

To see the Tritons tune their vocal shells,

And each cerulean sister of the flood

With loud acclaim attend her o'er the waves,

To seek the Idalian bower. Ye smiling band

Of youths and virgins, who through all the maze

Of young desire with rival steps pursue

This charm of Beauty, if the pleasing toil

Can yield a moment's respite, hither turn

Your favourable ear, and trust my words.

I do not mean to wake the gloomy form

Of Superstition dress'd in Wisdom's garb,

To damp your tender hopes; I do not mean

To bid the jealous thunderer fire the heavens,

Or shapes infernal rend the groaning earth

To fright you from your joys: my cheerful song

With better omens calls you to the field,

Pleased with your generous ardour in the chase,

And warm like you. Then tell me, for ye know,

Does Beauty ever deign to dwell where health

And active use are strangers? Is her charm

Confess'd in aught, whose most peculiar ends

Are lame and fruitless? Or did Nature mean

This pleasing call the herald of a lie,

To hide the shame of discord and disease,

And catch with fair hypocrisy the heart

Of idle faith? Oh, no! with better cares

The indulgent mother, conscious how infirm

Her offspring tread the paths of good and ill,

By this illustrious image, in each kind

Still most illustrious where the object holds

Its native powers most perfect, she by this

Illumes the headstrong impulse of desire,

And sanctifies his choice. The generous glebe

Whose bosom smiles with verdure, the clear tract

Of streams delicious to the thirsty soul,

The bloom of nectar'd fruitage ripe to sense,

And every charm of animated things,

Are only pledges of a state sincere,

The integrity and order of their frame,

When all is well within, and every end

Accomplish'd. Thus was Beauty sent from heaven,

The lovely ministries of Truth and Good

In this dark world: for Truth and Good are one,

And Beauty dwells in them, and they in her,

With like participation. Wherefore then,

O sons of earth! would ye dissolve the tie?

Oh! wherefore, with a rash impetuous aim,

Seek ye those flowery joys with which the hand

Of lavish Fancy paints each flattering scene

Where Beauty seems to dwell, nor once inquire

Where is the sanction of eternal Truth,

Or where the seal of undeceitful Good,

To save your search from folly! Wanting these,

Lo! Beauty withers in your void embrace,

And with the glittering of an idiot's toy

Did Fancy mock your vows. Nor let the gleam

Of youthful hope that shines upon your hearts,

Be chill'd or clouded at this awful task,

To learn the lore of undeceitful Good,

And Truth eternal. Though the poisonous charms

Of baleful Superstition guide the feet

Of servile numbers, through a dreary way

To their abode, through deserts, thorns, and mire;

And leave the wretched pilgrim all forlorn

To muse at last, amid the ghostly gloom

Of graves, and hoary vaults, and cloister'd cells;

To walk with spectres through the midnight shade,

And to the screaming owl's accursed song

Attune the dreadful workings of his heart;

Yet be not ye dismay'd. A gentler star

Your lovely search illumines. From the grove

Where Wisdom talk'd with her Athenian sons,

Could my ambitious hand entwine a wreath

Of Plato's olive with the Mantuan bay,

Then should my powerful verse at once dispel

Those monkish horrors: then in light divine

Disclose the Elysian prospect, where the steps

Of those whom Nature charms, through blooming walks,

Through fragrant mountains and poetic streams,

Amid the train of sages, heroes, bards,

Led by their winged Genius, and the choir

Of laurell'd science and harmonious art,

Proceed exulting to the eternal shrine,

Where Truth conspicuous with her sister-twins,

The undivided partners of her sway,

With Good and Beauty reigns. Oh, let not us,

Lull'd by luxurious Pleasure's languid strain,

Or crouching to the frowns of bigot rage,

Oh, let us not a moment pause to join

That godlike band. And if the gracious Power

Who first awaken'd my untutor'd song,

Will to my invocation breathe anew

The tuneful spirit; then through all our paths,

Ne'er shall the sound of this devoted lyre

Be wanting; whether on the rosy mead,

When summer smiles, to warn the melting heart

Of luxury's allurement; whether firm

Against the torrent and the stubborn hill

To urge bold Virtue's unremitted nerve,

And wake the strong divinity of soul

That conquers chance and fate; or whether struck

For sounds of triumph, to proclaim her toils

Upon the lofty summit, round her brow

To twine the wreath of incorruptive praise;

To trace her hallow'd light through future worlds,

And bless Heaven's image in the heart of man.

Thus with a faithful aim have we presumed,

Adventurous, to delineate Nature's form;

Whether in vast, majestic pomp array'd,

Or dress'd for pleasing wonder, or serene

In Beauty's rosy smile. It now remains,

Through various being's fair proportion'd scale,

To trace the rising lustre of her charms,

From their first twilight, shining forth at length

To full meridian splendour. Of degree

The least and lowliest, in the effusive warmth

Of colours mingling with a random blaze,

Doth Beauty dwell. Then higher in the line

And variation of determined shape,

Where Truth's eternal measures mark the bound

Of circle, cube, or sphere. The third ascent

Unites this varied symmetry of parts

With colour's bland allurement; as the pearl

Shines in the concave of its azure bed,

And painted shells indent their speckled wreath.

Then more attractive rise the blooming forms

Through which the breath of Nature has infused

Her genial power to draw with pregnant veins

Nutritious moisture from the bounteous earth,

In fruit and seed prolific: thus the flowers

Their purple honours with the Spring resume;

And such the stately tree which Autumn bends

With blushing treasures. But more lovely still

Is Nature's charm, where to the full consent

Of complicated members, to the bloom

Of colour, and the vital change of growth,

Life's holy flame and piercing sense are given,

And active motion speaks the temper'd soul:

So moves the bird of Juno; so the steed

With rival ardour beats the dusty plain,

And faithful dogs with eager airs of joy

Salute their fellows. Thus doth Beauty dwell

There most conspicuous, even in outward shape,

Where dawns the high expression of a mind:

By steps conducting our enraptured search

To that eternal origin, whose power,

Through all the unbounded symmetry of things,

Like rays effulging from the parent sun,

This endless mixture of her charms diffused.

Mind, mind alone, ( bear witness, earth and heaven! )

The living fountains in itself contains

Of beauteous and sublime: here hand in hand,

Sit paramount the Graces; here enthroned,

Celestial Venus, with divinest airs,

Invites the soul to never-fading joy.

Look then abroad through nature, to the range

Of planets, suns, and adamantine spheres

Wheeling unshaken through the void immense;

And speak, O man! does this capacious scene

With half that kindling majesty dilate

Thy strong conception, as when Brutus rose

Refulgent from the stroke of Caesar's fate,

Amid the crowd of patriots; and his arm

Aloft extending, like eternal Jove

When guilt brings down the thunder, call'd aloud

On Tully's name, and shook his crimson steel,

And bade the father of his country, hail!

For lo! the tyrant prostrate on the dust,

And Rome again is free! Is aught so fair

In all the dewy landscapes of the Spring,

In the bright eye of Hesper, or the morn,

In Nature's fairest forms, is aught so fair

As virtuous friendship? as the candid blush

Of him who strives with fortune to be just?

The graceful tear that streams for others’ woes?

Or the mild majesty of private life,

Where Peace with ever blooming olive crowns

The gate; where Honour's liberal hands effuse

Unenvied treasures, and the snowy wings

Of Innocence and Love protect the scene?

Once more search, undismay'd, the dark profound

Where Nature works in secret; view the beds

Of mineral treasure, and the eternal vault

That bounds the hoary ocean; trace the forms

Of atoms moving with incessant change

Their elemental round; behold the seeds

Of being, and the energy of life

Kindling the mass with ever-active flame;

Then to the secrets of the working mind

Attentive turn; from dim oblivion call

Her fleet, ideal band; and bid them, go!

Break through time's barrier, and o'ertake the hour

That saw the heavens created: then declare

If aught were found in those external scenes

To move thy wonder now. For what are all

The forms which brute, unconscious matter wears,

Greatness of bulk, or symmetry of parts?

Not reaching to the heart, soon feeble grows

The superficial impulse; dull their charms,

And satiate soon, and pall the languid eye.

Not so the moral species, nor the powers

Of genius and design; the ambitious mind

There sees herself: by these congenial forms

Touch'd and awaken'd, with intenser act

She bends each nerve, and meditates well pleased

Her features in the mirror. For, of all

The inhabitants of earth, to man alone

Creative Wisdom gave to lift his eye

To Truth's eternal measures; thence to frame

The sacred laws of action and of will,

Discerning justice from unequal deeds,

And temperance from folly. But beyond

This energy of Truth, whose dictates bind

Assenting reason, the benignant Sire,

To deck the honour'd paths of just and good,

Has added bright Imagination's rays:

Where Virtue, rising from the awful depth

Of Truth's mysterious bosom, doth forsake

The unadorn'd condition of her birth;

And dress'd by Fancy in ten thousand hues,

Assumes a various feature, to attract,

With charms responsive to each gazer's eye,

The hearts of men. Amid his rural walk,

The ingenuous youth, whom solitude inspires

With purest wishes, from the pensive shade

Beholds her moving, like a virgin muse

That wakes her lyre to some indulgent theme

Of harmony and wonder: while among

The herd of servile minds, her strenuous form

Indignant flashes on the patriot's eye,

And through the rolls of memory appeals

To ancient honour; or in act serene,

Yet watchful, raises the majestic sword

Of public Power, from dark Ambition's reach

To guard the sacred volume of the laws.

Genius of ancient Greece! whose faithful steps

Well pleased I follow through the sacred paths

Of Nature and of Science; nurse divine

Of all heroic deeds and fair desires!

Oh! let the breath of thy extended praise

Inspire my kindling bosom to the height

Of this untempted theme. Nor be my thoughts

Presumptuous counted, if, amid the calm

That soothes this vernal evening into smiles,

I steal impatient from the sordid haunts

Of strife and low ambition, to attend

Thy sacred presence in the sylvan shade,

By their malignant footsteps ne'er profaned.

Descend, propitious, to my favour'd eye!

Such in thy mien, thy warm, exalted air,

As when the Persian tyrant, foil'd and stung

With shame and desperation, gnash'd his teeth

To see thee rend the pageants of his throne;

And at the lightning of thy lifted spear

Crouch'd like a slave. Bring all thy martial spoils,

Thy palms, thy laurels, thy triumphal songs,

Thy smiling band of art, thy godlike sires

Of civil wisdom, thy heroic youth

Warm from the schools of glory. Guide my way

Through fair Lycéum's walk, the green retreats

Of Academus, and the thymy vale,

Where oft enchanted with Socratic sounds,

Ilissus pure devolved his tuneful stream

In gentler murmurs. From the blooming store

Of these auspicious fields, may I unblamed

Transplant some living blossoms to adorn

My native clime: while far above the flight

Of Fancy's plume aspiring, I unlock

The springs of ancient wisdom! while I join

Thy name, thrice honour'd! with the immortal praise

Of Nature; while to my compatriot youth

I point the high example of thy sons,

And tune to Attic themes the British lyre.