Imágenes de página

wild-bird in spring; while her laugh, full of life, Gaiety
without any control but the sweet one of graceful-
ness, rung from her soul: and where it most sparkled
no glance could discover, in lip, cheek, or eyes, for Rapture
she brightened all over, like any fair lake that the
breeze is upon, when it breaks into dimples and
laughs in the sun.




XVI.—THE SLAVE'S REMONSTRANCE.—Knowles. That I were dead! Oh, what is death compared to Deprecation slavery! Brutes may bear bondage—they were made for it, when Heaven set man above them! but Indignant no mark, definite and indelible, it put upon one man to mark him from another, that he should live his slave. Oh, heavy curse! To have thought, reason, Anguish judgment, feelings, tastes, passions, and conscience, like another man, and not have equal liberty to use them, but call his mood their master! Why was reflection I born with passion to be free—with faculties to use enlargement-with desires that cleave to high achievements—and with sympathies attracting me to objects fair and noble,-and yet with power over Humiliation myself as little as any beast of burden? Why should I live? There are of brutes themselves that Proudly will not tame, so high in them is nature; whom the spur and lash, instead of curing, only chafe into a prouder mettle ;—that will let you kill them, ere Energy they will suffer you to master them. I am a man, Self.reproach and live!

XVII.-ALEXANDER'S FEAST. —Dryden. 'Twas at the royal feast, for Persia won by Philip's Pompous warlike son:-aloft, in awful state, the god-like

Dignity hero sat on his imperial throne. His valiant peers Loftiness were placed around, their brows with roses and with myrtles bound: so should desertin arms be crowned. The lovely Thais, by his side, sat, like a blooming Admiration Eastern bride, in flower of youth and beauty's pride. Happy, happy, happy pair! None but the brave, Rapture none but the brave, none but the brave-deserves the fair.




Haughtiness 1Playfulness



Timotheus-placed on high amid the tuneful choir—with flying fingers touched the lyre; the trembling notes ascend the sky, and heavenly joys inspire.

The song began from Jove, who left his blissful seat above—such is the power of mighty Love!A dragon's fiery form belied the god : sublime on radiant spheres he rode. -The listening crowd admire the lofty sound : “A present deity!" they shout around; “A present deity!" the vaulted roofs rebound!— With ravished ears, the monarch hears, assumes the god, affects to nod, land seems to shake the spheres.

The praise of Bacchus, then, the sweet Musician sung; of Bacchus, ever fair and ever young!—"The jolly god in triumph comes ! sound the trumpets ! beat the drums! Flushed with a purple grace he shows his honest face! Now, give the hautboys breath !—he comes! he comes! Bacchus, ever fair and young, drinking joys did first ordain ; Bacchus' blessings are a treasure; drinking is the soldier's pleasure: rich the treasure; sweet the pleasure; sweetis pleasure, after pain!" -Soothed with the sound, the king grew vain-fought all his battles o’er again—and thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he slew—the slain !

The Master saw the madness rise, his glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes; and, while he heaven and earth defied-changed his hand, and checked his pride. He chose a mournful muse, soft pity to infuse: he sang—“Darius, great, and good! by too severe a fate, fallen! fallen ! fallen! fallen ! fallen from his high estate—and weltering in his blood! Deserted, at his utmost need, by those his former bounty fed, on the bare earth, exposed, he lies, with not a friend to close his eyes !"- -With downcast look the joyless Victor sat, revolving, in his altered soul, the various turns of fate below; and, now and then, a sigh he stole, and tears began to flow !

The mighty Master smiled, to see that Love was in the next degree: 'twas but a kindred sound to move; for Pity melts the mind to Love. Softly sweet, in Lydian measures, soon he soothed his soul to pleasures. “War” he sung, “is toil and trouble;

Increasing energy

1Playfulness Watching


Reproachful sorrow









honour, but an empty bubble; never ending, still beginning, fighting still, and still destroying. If the world be worth thy winning, think, oh! think it worth enjoying! Lovely Thais sits beside thee, take the good the gods provide thee!” -The many rend the skies with loud applause. So Love was crowned; but Music won the cause.

“Now, strike the golden lyre again! a louder Strong whisper yet, and yet a louder strain ! break his bands of sleep asunder, and 'rouse him, like a rattling peal 1 Startling of thunder!" Hark! hark !—The horrid sound Enersy has raised up his head, as awaked from the dead; and, amazed, he stares around! "Revenge! re- Fury venge!” Timotheus cries :-See the furies arise! see the snakes that they rear, how they hiss in their hair, and the sparkles that flash from their eyes! Behold a ghastly band, each a torch in his Horror hand! these are Grecian ghosts that in battle were slain, and, unburied, remain inglorious on the plain! Give the vengeance, due to the valiant Wild transport crew! behold! how they toss their torches on high, how they point to the Persian abodes, and glittering temples of their hostile gods!”—The Eagerness princes applaud, with a furious joy; and the King seized a flambeau, with zeal to destroy; Thais led the way to light him to his prey; and, like another Delight Helen,---fired another Troy!




XVIII.-THE BARD.Gray. “Ruin seize thee, ruthless King! Confusion on thy

imprecation banners wait; though, fanned by Conquest'scrimson wing, they mock the air with idle state! Helm, nor Contempt hauberk's twisted mail, nor even thy virtuestyrant!-shall avail, to save thy secret soul from Prophetic nightly fears; from Cambria's curse—from Cambria's tears." Such were the sounds that, o'er the crested pride of the first Edward, scattered wild dis- Fear may, as, down the steep of Snowdon's shaggy side, he wound, with toilsome march, his long array. Stout Gloucester'stood aghast in speechless trance! 26To 2Torror arms !" cried Mortimer, and couched his quivering lance. On a rock, whose haughty brow frowns o'er old Salemn.








Affectionate remembrance

Mournful admiration

Conway's foaming flood, rob'd in the sable garb of woe, with haggard eyes the Poet stood : (loose, his beard and hoary hair streamed like a meteor to the troubled air;) and, with a master's hand, and prophet's fire, struck the deep sorrows of his lyre.

* Hark! how each giant oak, and desert cave, sighs Prophetic

to the torrent's awful voice beneath! O’er thee,

O King! their hundred arms they wave, revenge on Lamentation thee in hoarser murmurs breathe:-vocal no more,

since Cambria's fatal day, to high-born Hoel's

harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay. Mournful "Coldis Cadwallo'stongue, that hushed the stormy description

main: brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed : Mountains, ye mourn in vain Modred, whose magic song made huge Plinlimmon bow his cloud-topped head :-on dreary Arvon's shore they lie, smeared with gore, and ghastly pale: far, far aloof the affrighted ravens sail: the famished eagle screams, and passes by. Dear, lost companions of my tuneful art! Dear-as the light that visits these sad eyes! dear,--as the ruddy drops that warm my heart! ye

died amidst your dying country's cries!—No more Rejoicing I weep. They do not sleep. On yonder cliffs,—a

grisly band, -I see them sit! they linger yet, avengers of their native land : with me in dread ful harmony they join, and weave, with bloody

hands, the tissue of thy line. Authority “Weave the warp,and weave the woof,—the wind.

ing sheet of Edward's race; give ample room, and verge enough, the characters of hell to trace: mark the year, and mark the night, when Severn shall re-echo with affright the shrieks of death, through Berkley's roofs that ring-shrieks of an agonizing

king! She-wolf of France—with unrelenting fangs Piteous horror that tear'st the bowels of thy mangled mate,-from

thee be born, who, o'er thy country, hangs, the scourge of Heaven. What terrors round him wait! Amazement in his van, with Flight combined; and Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude, behind.

“Mighty victor! mighty lord! low on his funeral

couch he lies! No pitying heart, no eye, afford a Contempt tear to grace his obsequies. Is the sable warrior

fled? Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead. The swarm that in thy noon-tide beam were born ?

with avo

Joy with revenge



Intense joy

Irony with exultation

Joyous revenge


Gone to salute the rising Morn. Fair laughs the Loseript
Morn, and soft the Zephyr blows, while, proudly
ridingo’erthe azure realm, in gallant trim the gilded
vessel goes—Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at
the helm; regardless of the sweeping Whirlwind's Awe
sway, that, hushed in grim repose, expects his even-
ing prey.

"Filthigh the sparkling bowl, the rich repast pre- Command pare! Reftof a crown, heyet may share the feast:- Irony Close by the regal chair fell Thirst and Famine Joyous horror scowla balefulsmileupon their baffled guest. Heard Triomphant ye the din of battle bray, lance to lance, and horse to horse? Long years of havoc urge their destined course, and through the kindred squadrons mow their way! Ye towers of Julius-London's lasting shame!-with many a foul and midnight murder fed; revere his consort's faith, his father's fame, and spare the meek usurper's holy head. Above, below, the rose of snow, twined with the blushing foe, we spread; the bristled boar, in infant gore, wallows beneath the thorny shade. Now, Brothers, bending Revenge o'er the accursed loom, stamp we our vengeance Joy deep, and ratify his doom.

Edward, lo! to sudden fate (Weave wethe woof. Revenge The thread is spun.)-half of thy heart we conse- Revenge crate. (The web is wove. The work is done!) Stay, oh stay! nor thus, forlorn, leave me unblessed, Entreary unpitied, here to mourn: in yon bright track, that fires the western skies, they melt—they vanish from my eyes. But oh! whatsolemn scenes on Snowdon’s Surprise height descending slow their glittering skirts unroll! Visions of glory, spare my aching sight! ye unborn Entreaty with ages, crowd not on my soul! No more our long- Extreme joy lost Arthur we bewail: all hail, ye genuine Kings, Britannia's issue! hail !

“Girt with many a Baron bold, sublime their starry description fronts they rear; and gorgeous dames, and statesmen old, in bearded majesty appear. In the midst a form Admiration divine! her eye proclaims her of the Briton line ; herlion-port, herawe-commanding face, attempered sweet to virgin grace! What strings symphonious Listeninen

! tremble in the air! what strains of vocal transports round her play! Hear from the grave, great Talies- Jorpus sin, hear! they breathe a soul to animate thy clay.



Narration with joy with grief

with awe


with rapture


« AnteriorContinuar »