by Homer
But not their joys alone thus coarsely flow:
Their morals, like their pleasures, are but low,
For, as refinement stops, from sire to son
Unalter’d, unimprov’d, the manners run; 230
And love’s and friendship’s finely pointed dart
Fall blunted from each indurated heart.
Some sterner virtues o’er the mountain’s breast
May sit, like falcons cow’ring on the nest;
But all the gentler morals, such as play 235
Through life’s more cultur’d walks, and charm the way,
These, far dispers’d, on timorous pinions fly,
To sport and flutter in a kinder sky.
To kinder skies, where gentler manners reign,
I turn; and France displays her bright domain. 240
Gay sprightly land of mirth and social ease,
Pleas’d with thyself, whom all the world can please,
How often have I led thy sportive choir,
With tuneless pipe, beside the murmuring Loire?
Where shading elms along the margin grew, 245
And freshen’d from the wave the zephyr flew;
And haply, though my harsh touch, faltering still,
But mock’d all tune, and marr’d the dancer’s skill;
Yet would the village praise my wondrous power,
And dance, forgetful of the noontide hour. 250
Alike all ages. Dames of ancient days
Have led their children through the mirthful maze,
And the gay grandsire, skill’d in gestic lore,
Has frisk’d beneath the burthen of threescore.
So blest a life these thoughtless realms display, 255
Thus idly busy rolls their world away:
Theirs are those arts that mind to mind endear,
For honour forms the social temper here:
Honour, that praise which real merit gains,
Or even imaginary worth obtains, 260
Here passes current; paid from hand to hand,
It shifts in splendid traffic round the land:
From courts to camps to cottages it strays,
And all are taught an avarice of praise.
They please, are pleas’d, they give to get esteem, 265
Till seeming blest, they grow to what they seem.
But while this softer art their bliss supplies,
It gives their follies also room to raise;
For praise too dearly lov’d, or warmly sought,
Enfeebles all internal strength of thought; 270
And the weak soul, within itself unblest,
Leans for all pleasure on another’s breast.
Hence ostentation here, with tawdry art,
Pants for the vulgar praise which fools impart;
Here vanity assumes her pert grimace, 275
And trims her robes of frieze with copper lace;
Here beggar pride defrauds her daily cheer,
To boast one splendid banquet once a year;
The mind still turns where shifting fashion draws,
Nor weighs the solid worth of self-applause. 280
To men of other minds my fancy flies,
Embosom’d in the deep where Holland lies.
Methinks her patient sons before me stand,
Where the broad ocean leans against the land,
And, sedulous to stop the coming tide, 285
Lift the tall rampire’s artificial pride.
Onward, methinks, and diligently slow,
The firm-connected bulwark seems to grow;
Spreads its long arms amidst the watery roar,
Scoops out an empire, and usurps the shore: 290
While the pent ocean rising o’er the pile,
Sees an amphibious world beneath him smile;
The slow canal, the yellow-blossom’d vale,
The willow-tufted bank, the gliding sail,
The crowded mart, the cultivated plain, — 295
A new creation rescued from his reign.
Thus, while around the wave-subjected soil
Impels the native to repeated toil,
Industrious habits in each bosom reign,
And industry begets a love of gain. 300
Hence all the good from opulence that springs,
With all those ills superfluous treasure brings,
Are here displayed. Their much lov’d wealth imparts
Convenience, plenty, elegance, and arts;
But view them closer, craft and fraud appear, 305
Ev’n liberty itself is barter’d here.
At gold’s superior charms all freedom flies,
The needy sell it, and the rich man buys;
A land of tyrants, and a den of slaves,
Here wretches seek dishonourable graves, 310
And calmly bent, to servitude conform,
Dull as their lakes that slumber in the storm.
Heavens! how unlike their Belgic sires of old!
Rough, poor, content, ungovernably bold;
War in each breast, and freedom on each brow; 315
How much unlike the sons of Britain now!
Fir’d at the sound, my genius spreads her wing,
And flies where Britain courts the western spring;
Where lawns extend that scorn Arcadian pride,
And brighter streams than fam’d Hydaspes glide. 320
There all around the gentlest breezes stray,
There gentle music melts on every spray;
Creation’s mildest charms are there combin’d,
Extremes are only in the master’s, mind!
Stern o’er each bosom Reason holds her state, 325
With daring aims irregularly great,
Pride in their port, defiance in their eye,
I see the lords of human kind pass by,
Intent on high designs, a thoughtful band,
By forms unfashion’d, fresh from Nature’s hand; 330
Fierce in their native hardiness of soul,
True to imagin’d right, above control,
While ev’n the peasant boasts these rights to scan,
And learns to venerate himself as man.
Thine, Freedom, thine the blessings pictur’d here, 335
Thine are those charms that dazzle and endear;
Too bless’d, indeed, were such without alloy,
But foster’d ev’n by Freedom, ills annoy:
That independence Britons prize too high,
Keeps man from man, and breaks the social tie; 340
The self-dependent lordlings stand alone,
All claims that bind and sweeten life unknown;
Here by the bonds of nature feebly held,
Minds combat minds, repelling and repell’d.
Ferments arise, imprison’d factions roar, 345
Repress’d ambition struggles round her shore,
Till over-wrought, the general system feels
Its motions stop, or phrenzy fires the wheels.
Nor this the worst. As nature’s ties decay,
As duty, love, and honour fail to sway, 350
Fictitious bonds, the bonds of wealth and law,
Still gather strength, and force unwilling awe.
Hence all obedience bows to these alone,
And talent sinks, and merit weeps unknown;
Till time may come, when stripp’d of all her charms, 355
The land of scholars, and the nurse of arms,
Where noble stems transmit the patriot flame,
Where kings have toil’d, and poets wrote for fame,
One sink of level avarice shall lie,
And scholars, soldiers, kings, unhonour’d die. 360
Yet think not, thus when Freedom’s ills I state,
I mean to flatter kings, or court the great;
Ye powers of truth, that bid my soul aspire,
Far from my bosom drive the low desire;
And thou, fair Freedom, taught alik
e to feel 365
The rabble’s rage, and tyrant’s angry steel;
Thou transitory flower, alike undone
By proud contempt, or favour’s fostering sun,
Still may thy blooms the changeful clime endure!
I only would repress them to secure: 370
For just experience tells, in every soil,
That those who think must govern those that toil;
And all that Freedom’s highest aims can reach,
Is but to lay proportion’d loads on each.
Hence, should one order disproportion’d grow, 375
Its double weight must ruin all below.
O then how blind to all that earth requires,
Who think it freedom when a part aspires!
Calm is my soul, nor apt to rise in arms,
Except when fast-approaching danger warms: 380
But when contending chiefs blockade the throne,
Contracting regal power to stretch their own,
When I behold a factious band agree
To call it freedom when themselves are free;
Each wanton judge new penal statutes draw, 385
Laws grind the poor, and rich men rule the law;
The wealth of climes, where savage nations roam,
Pillag’d from slaves to purchase slaves at home;
Fear, pity, justice, indignation start,
Tear off reserve, and bare my swelling heart; 390
Till half a patriot, half a coward grown,
I fly from petty tyrants to the throne.
Yes, brother, curse with me that baleful hour,
When first ambition struck at regal power;
And thus polluting honour in its source, 395
Gave wealth to sway the mind with double force.
Have we not seen, round Britain’s peopled shore,
Her useful sons exchanged for useless ore?
Seen all her triumphs but destruction haste,
Like flaring tapers brightening as they waste; 400
Seen Opulence, her grandeur to maintain,
Lead stern Depopulation in her train,
And over fields where scatter’d hamlets rose,
In barren solitary pomp repose?
Have we not seen at pleasure’s lordly call, 405
The smiling long-frequented village fall?
Beheld the duteous son, the sire decay’d,
The modest matron, and the blushing maid,
Forc’d from their homes, a melancholy train,
To traverse climes beyond the western main; 410
Where wild Oswego spreads her swamps around,
And Niagara stuns with thund’ring sound?
Even now, perhaps, as there some pilgrim strays
Through tangled forests, and through dangerous ways;
Where beasts with man divided empire claim, 415
And the brown Indian marks with murderous aim;
There, while above the giddy tempest flies,
And all around distressful yells arise,
The pensive exile, bending with his woe,
To stop too fearful, and too faint to go, 420
Casts a long look where England’s glories shine,
And bids his bosom sympathise with mine.
Vain, very vain, my weary search to find
That bliss which only centres in the mind:
Why have I stray’d from pleasure and repose, 425
To seek a good each government bestows?
In every government, though terrors reign,
Though tyrant kings, or tyrant laws restrain,
How small, of all that human hearts endure,
That part which laws or kings can cause or cure! 430
Still to ourselves in every place consign’d,
Our own felicity we make or find:
With secret course, which no loud storms annoy,
Glides the smooth current of domestic joy.
The lifted axe, the agonising wheel, 435
Luke’s iron crown, and Damien’s bed of steel,
To men remote from power but rarely known,
Leave reason, faith, and conscience, all our own.
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
Robert Graham of Gartmore
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
If Doughty Deeds
Robert Graham of Gartmore (1735–1797)
IF doughty deeds my lady please
Right soon I’ll mount my steed;
And strong his arm, and fast his seat
That bears frae me the meed.
I’ll wear thy colours in my cap, 5
Thy picture in my heart;
And he that bends not to thine eye
Shall rue it to his smart!
Then tell me how to woo thee, Love;
O tell me how to woo thee! 10
For thy dear sake, nae care I’ll take
Tho’ ne’er another trow me.
If gay attire delight thine eye
I’ll dight me in array;
I’ll tend thy chamber door all night, 15
And squire thee all the day.
If sweetest sounds can win thine ear,
These sounds I’ll strive to catch;
Thy voice I’ll steal to woo thysell,
That voice that nane can match. 20
But if fond love thy heart can gain,
I never broke a vow;
Nae maiden lays her skaith to me,
I never loved but you.
For you alone I ride the ring, 25
For you I wear the blue;
For you alone I strive to sing,
O tell me how to woo!
Then tell me how to woo thee, Love;
O tell me how to woo thee! 30
For thy dear sake, nae care I’ll take,
Tho’ ne’er another trow me.
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
Adam Austin
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
For Lack of Gold
Adam Austin (1726–1774)
FOR lack of gold she’s left me, O,
And of all that’s dear bereft me, O;
She me forsook for Athole’s duke,
And to endless woe she has left me, O.
A star and garter have more art 5
Than youth, a true and faithful heart;
For empty titles we must part,
And for glittering show she’s left me, O.
No cruel fair shall ever move
My injured heart again to love; 10
Through distant climates I must rove,
Since Jeanie she has left me, O.
Ye powers above, I to your care
Give up my faithless, lovely fair;
Your choicest blessings be her share, 15
Though she’s for ever left me, O!
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
William Cowper
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
The Task. Book I. The Sofa.
William Cowper (1731–1800)
[“The history of the following production is briefly this: — A lady, fond of blank verse, demanded a poem of that kind from the author, and gave him the SOFA for a subject. He obeyed, and having much leisure, connected another subject with it; and, pursuing the train of thought to which his situation and turn of mind led him, brought forth, at length, instead of the trifle which he at first intended, a serious affair — a volume.]
I sing the Sofa. I, who lately sang
Truth, Hope, and Charity, and touched with awe
The solemn chords, and with a trembling hand,
Escaped with pain from that advent’rous flight,
Now se
ek repose upon a humbler theme:
The theme though humble, yet august and proud
The occasion — for the Fair commands the song.
Time was, when clothing sumptuous or for use,
Save their own painted skins, our sires had none.
As yet black breeches were not; satin smooth,
Or velvet soft, or plush with shaggy pile:
The hardy chief upon the rugged rock
Washed by the sea, or on the gravelly bank
Thrown up by wintry torrents roaring loud,
Fearless of wrong, reposed his weary strength.
Those barbarous ages past, succeeded next
The birthday of invention; weak at first,
Dull in design, and clumsy to perform.
Joint-stools were then created; on three legs
Upborne they stood. Three legs upholding firm
A massy slab, in fashion square or round.
On such a stool immortal Alfred sat,
And swayed the sceptre of his infant realms;
And such in ancient halls and mansions drear
May still be seen, but perforated sore
And drilled in holes the solid oak is found,
By worms voracious eating through and through.
At length a generation more refined
Improved the simple plan, made three legs four,
Gave them a twisted form vermicular,
And o’er the seat, with plenteous wadding stuffed,
Induced a splendid cover green and blue,
Yellow and red, of tapestry richly wrought
And woven close, or needlework sublime.
There might ye see the peony spread wide,
The full-blown rose, the shepherd and his lass,
Lapdog and lambkin with black staring eyes,
And parrots with twin cherries in their beak.
Now came the cane from India, smooth and bright
With Nature’s varnish; severed into stripes
That interlaced each other, these supplied,
Of texture firm, a lattice-work that braced
The new machine, and it became a chair.
But restless was the chair; the back erect
