And, while the Thrush his home and food,
Hails, as the flowering thorns unfold,
And from its trunk of ebon wood,
Rears Cytisus its floating gold;
The Lilac, whose tall head discloses
Groups of such bright empurpled shade,
And snow-globes form’d of elfin roses,
Seem for exclusive beauty made:
Such too art thou; when light anew
Above the eastern hill is seen,
Thy buds, as fearful of the dew,
Still wear their sheltering veil of green.
But in the next more genial hour
Thy tender rose-shaped cups unfold,
And soon appears the perfect flower,
With ruby spots and threads of gold.
That short and fleeting hour gone by,
And even the slightest breath of air,
Scarce heard among thy leaves to sigh,
Or little bird that flutters there;
Shakes off thy petals thin and frail,
And soon, like half-congealing snow,
The sport of every wandering gale,
They strew the humid turf below.
Yet tho’ thy gauzy bells fall fast,
Long ere appears the evening crescent;
Another bloom succeeds the last,
As lovely and as evanescent.
Not so the poet’s favourite Rose,
She blooms beyond a second day,
And even some later beauty shews —
Some charm still lingering in decay.
Thus those, who thro’ life’s path have pass’d,
A path how seldom strewn with flowers!
May have met Friendships formed to last
Beyond the noonday’s golden hours.
While quickly formed, dissolv’d as soon,
Some warm attachments I have known
Just flourish for an hour at noon,
But leave no trace when overblown.
Minds that form these, with ardent zeal
Their new connexions fondly cherish,
And for a moment keenly feel
Affection, doomed as soon to perish;
Incapable of Friendship long,
Awake to every new impression,
Old friends, becoming ci-devant!
Are still replaced by a Succession.
HOPE. A RONDEAU.
Parody on Lord Strangford’s “Just like Love.”
JUST like Hope is yonder bow,
That from the center bends so low,
Where bright prismatic colours shew
How gems of heavenly radiance glow,
Just like Hope!
Yet if, to the illusion new,
The pilgrim should the arch pursue,
Farther and farther from his view,
It flies; then melts in chilling dew,
Just like Hope!
Ye fade, ethereal hues! for ever,
While, cold Reason, thy endeavour
Sooths not that sad heart, which never
Glows with Hope.
EVENING.
OH! soothing hour, when glowing day,
Low in the western wave declines,
And village murmurs die away,
And bright the vesper planet shines;
I love to hear the gale of Even
Breathing along the new-leaf’d copse,
And feel the freshening dew of Heaven,
Fall silently in limpid drops.
For, like a friend’s consoling sighs,
That breeze of night to me appears;
And, as soft dew from Pity’s eyes,
Descend those pure celestial tears.
Alas! for those who long have borne,
Like me, a heart by sorrow riven,
Who, but the plaintive winds, will mourn,
What tears will fall, but those of Heaven?
LOVE AND FOLLY, FROM THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE.
LOVE, who now deals to human hearts,
Such ill thrown, yet resistless darts,
That hapless mortals can’t withstand them,
Was once less cruel and perverse,
Nor did he then his shafts disperse,
So much at random.
It happened, that the thoughtless child
Was rambling thro’ a flowery wild,
Like idle lad in school vacation;
Where sauntering now, and now at rest,
Stroll’d Folly, who to Love address’d
His conversation.
On trifles he had much to say,
Then laughing he propos’d to play,
And stake against Love’s bow his bauble;
The quiver’d gamester smil’d and won,
But testy Folly soon began
To fret and squabble.
Loud and more loud the quarrel grows;
From words the wranglers went to blows,
For Folly’s rage is prompt to rise;
Till bleeding Love a martyr stood —
A stroke from Folly’s weapon rude,
Put out his eyes.
Then wild with anguish, Venus pray’d,
For vengeance on the idiot’s head,
And begg’d of cloud-compelling Jove,
His swiftest lightening, to destroy,
The mischievous malignant boy
That blinded Love.
“Folly is immortal,” Jove replied,
“But, tho’ your prayer must be denied,
“An endless penance is decreed him;
“For Love, tho’ blind, will reign around
“The world; but still where-ever found,
“Folly shall lead him.”
ON THE APHORISM, “L’AMITIÉ EST L’AMOUR SANS AILES.”
FRIENDSHIP, as some sage poet sings,
Is chasten’d Love, depriv’d of wings,
Without all wish or power to wander;
Less volatile, but not less tender:
Yet says the proverbs— “Sly and slow
“Love creeps, even where he cannot go;”
To clip his pinions then is vain,
His old propensities remain;
And she, who years beyond fifteen,
Has counted twenty, may have seen
How rarely unplum’d Love will stay;
He flies not — but he coolly walks away.
TO MY LYRE.
Such as thou art, my faithful Lyre,
For all the great and wise admire,
Believe me, I would not exchange thee,
Since e’en adversity could never
Thee from my anguish’d bosom sever,
Or time or sorrow e’er estrange thee.
Far from my native fields removed,
From all I valued, all I loved;
By early sorrows soon beset,
Annoy’d and wearied past endurance,
With drawbacks, bottomry, insurance,
With samples drawn, and tare and tret;
With Scrip, and Omnium, and Consols,
With City Feasts and Lord Mayors’ Balls,
Scenes that to me no joy afforded;
For all the anxious Sons of Care,
From Bishopsgate to Temple Bar,
To my young eyes seem’d gross and sordid.
Proud city dames, with loud shrill clacks,
“The wealth of nations on their backs,”)
Their clumsy daughters and their nieces,
Good sort of people! and well meaners,
But they could not be my congeners,
For I was of a different species.
Long were thy gentle accents drown’d,
Till from the Bow-bells’ detested sound
I bore thee far, my darling treasure;
And unrepining left for thee
Both calepash and callipee,
And sought green fields, pure air, and leisure.
Who that has heard thy silver tones —
Who that the Muse’s influence owns,
>
Can at my fond attachment wonder,
That still my heart should own thy power?
Thou — who hast soothed each adverse hour,
So thou and I will never sunder.
In cheerless solitude, bereft
Of youth and health, thou still art left,
When hope and fortune have deceived me;
Thou, far unlike the summer friend,
Did still my falt’ring steps attend,
And with thy plaintive voice relieved me.
And as the time ere long must come
When I lie silent in the tomb,
Thou wilt preserve these mournful pages;
For gentle minds will love my verse,
And Pity shall my strains rehearse,
And tell my name to distant ages.
NOTES TO BEACHY HEAD AND OTHER POEMS.
Page 1. Line 3. “The mariner at early morning hails.”
In crossing the Channel from the coast of France, Beachy-Head is the first land made.
Page 1. Line 6. “Of vast concussion, when the Omnipotent
“Stretch’d forth his arm — —”
Alluding to an idea that this Island was once joined to the continent of Europe, and torn from it by some
convulsion of Nature. I confess I never could trace the resemblance between the two countries. Yet the cliffs about Dieppe, resemble the chalk cliffs on the Southern coast. But Normandy has no likeness whatever to the part of England opposite to it.
Page 2. Line 15.
Terns. — Sterna hirundo, or Sea Swallow.
Gulls. — Larus canus.
Tarrocks. — Larus tridactylus.
Page 3. Line 1.
Gray Choughs. — Corvus Graculus, Cornish Choughs, or, as these birds are called by the Sussex people, Saddle-backed Crows, build in great numbers on this coast.
Page 4. Line 10. “Bursts from its pod the vegetable down.”
Cotton. “Gossypium herbaceum.”
Line 14. “The beamy adamant.”
Diamonds, the hardest and most valuable of precious stones.
For the extraordinary exertions of the Indians in diving for the pearl oysters, see the account of the Pearl Fisheries in Percival’s View of Ceylon.
Page 8. Line 14. “ —— But now and then the Sea Snipe’s cry,”&c.
In crossing the channel this bird is heard at night, uttering a short cry, and flitting along near the surface of the waves. The sailors call it the Sea Snipe; but I can find no species of sea bird of which this is the vulgar name. A bird also called inhabits the lake of Geneva.
Page 9 “The period, when from Neustria’s hostile shore
The Norman launch’d his galleys, and the bay
O’er which that mass of ruin* frowns even now
In vain and sullen menace, then received
The new invaders,”&c.
Pevensey Castle.
The Scandinavians , and other inhabitants of the north, began towards the end of the 8th century, to leave their inhospitable climate in search of the produce of more fortunate countries.
Scandinavia — Modern Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Lapland, &c.
The North-men made inroads on the coasts of France; and carrying back immense booty, excited their compatriots to engage in the same piratical voyages: and they were afterwards joined by numbers of necessitous and daring adventurers from the coasts of Provence and Sicily.
In 844, these wandering innovators had a great number of vessels at sea; and again visiting the coasts of France, Spain, and England, the following year they penetrated even to Paris: and the unfortunate Charles the Bald, king of France, purchased at a high price, the retreat of the banditti he had no other means of repelling.
These successful expeditions continued for some time; till Rollo, otherwise Raoul, assembled a number of followers, and after a descent on England,
crossed the channel, and made himself master of Rouen, which he fortified. Charles the Simple, unable to contend with Rollo, offered to resign to him some of the northern provinces, and to give him his daughter in marriage. Neustria, since called Normandy, was granted to him, and afterwards Brittany. He added the more solid virtues of the legislator to the fierce valour of the conqueror — converted to Christianity, he established justice, and repressed the excesses of his Danish subjects, till then accustomed to live only by plunder. His name became the signal for pursuing those who violated the laws; as well as the cry of Haro, still so usual in Normandy. The Danes and Francs produced a race of men celebrated for their valour; and it was a small party of these that in 983, having been on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, arrived on their return at Salerno, and found the town surrounded by Mahometans, whom the Salernians were bribing to leave their coast. The Normans represented to them the baseness and cowardice of such submission; and notwithstanding the inequality of their numbers, they boldly attacked the Saracen camp, and drove the infidels to their ships. The prince of Salerno, astonished at their successful audacity, would have loaded them with the marks of his gratitude; but refusing every reward, they returned to their own country, from whence, however, other bodies of Normans passed into Sicily* ; and many of them entered into the service of the emperor of the East, others of the Pope,
Anciently called Trinacria.
and the duke of Naples was happy to engage a small party of them in defence of his newly founded dutchy. Soon afterwards three brothers of Coutance, the sons of Tancred de Hauteville, Guillaume Fier-a-bras, Drogon, and Humfroi, joining the Normans established at Aversa, became masters of the fertile island of Sicily; and Robert Guiscard joining them, the Normans became sovereigns both of Sicily and Naples* . How William, the natural son of Robert, duke of Normandy, possessed himself of England, is too well known to be repeated here. William sailing from St. Valori, landed in the bay of Pevensey; and at the place now called Battle, met the English forces under Harold: an esquire “ecuyer” called Taillefer,
Parthenope.
mounted on an armed horse, led on the Normans, singing in a thundering tone the war song of Rollo. He threw himself among the English, and was killed on the first onset. In a marsh not far from Hastings, the skeletons of an armed man and horse were found a few years since, which are believed to have belonged to the Normans, as a party of their horse, deceived in the nature of the ground, perished in the morass.
Page 10. Line 10. “Then the holy pile,” &c.
Battle Abbey was raised by the Conqueror, and endowed with an ample revenue, that masses might be said night and day for the souls of those who perished in battle.
Page 11. Last line. “Thou, leagued with the Batavian—”
In 1690, king William being then in Ireland, Tourville, the French admiral, arrived on the coast of England. His fleet consisted of seventy-eight large ships, and twenty-two fire-ships. Lord Torrington, the English admiral, lay at St. Helens, with only forty English and a few Dutch ships; and conscious of the disadvantage under which he should give battle, he ran up between the enemy’s fleet and the coast, to protect it. The queen’s council, dictated to by Russel, persuaded her to order Torrington to venture a battle. The orders Torrington appears to have obeyed reluctantly: his fleet now consisted of twenty-two Dutch and thirty-four English ships. Evertson, the Dutch admiral, was eager to obtain glory; Torrington, more cautious, reflected on the importance of the stake. The consequence was, that the Dutch rashly sailing on were surrounded, and Torrington, solicitous to recover this false step, placed himself with difficulty between the Dutch and French; — but three Dutch ships were burnt, two of their admirals killed, and almost all their ships disabled. The English and Dutch declining a second engagement, retired towards the mouth of the Thames. The French, from ignorance of the coast, and misunderstanding among each other, failed to take all the advantage they might have done of this victory.
Page 13. “ —— — the humble home
Of one, who sometimes watches on the heights,” &c.
The shepherds and labourers of this tract o
f country, a hardy and athletic race of men, are almost universally engaged in the contraband trade, carried on for the coarsest and most destructive spirits, with the opposite coast. When no other vessel will venture to sea, these men hazard their lives to elude the watchfulness of the Revenue officers, and to secure their cargoes.
Page 14. Line 15. “Where the gemm’d sun-dew grows, or fring’d buck-bean,
They scare the plover — —”
Sun-dew. — Drosera rotundifolia
Buck-bean. — Menyanthes trifoliatum.
Plover. — Tringa vanellus.
Page 15. Line 9. “By crouding osiers, and the black coot hides—”
Coot. — Fulica aterrima.
Line 16.
“With blossom’d furze, unprofitably gay.”
Goldsmith.
Page 16. Line 7. “Hostile war-fires.”
The Beacons formerly lighted up on the hills to give notice of the approach of an enemy. These signals would still be used in case of alarm, if the Telegraph now substituted could not be distinguished on account of fog or darkness.
Line 11. “Where clamouring loud, the evening curlew runs.”
Curlew. — Charadrius oedicnemus.
Page 20. “ —— —— where Vecta breaks
With her white rocks, the strong imperious tide.”
Vecta. — The Isle of Wight, which breaks the force of the waves when they are driven by south-west winds against this long and open coast. It is somewhere described as “Vecta shouldering the Western Waves.”
Charlotte Smith- Collected Poetical Works Page 24
