The self-will'd autocrat essays to bind,
Like fulminating Popes of old, the mind;
And Metternich, whose statecraft thrives so well,
Reacts the worn-out part of Machiavell.
Thus we improve; mild emperors succeed
The imperial ht. Does not Poland bleed?
As in a fox-chase, in pursuit of fame
The cry
is "Forward! forward!" still the same.
The restless spirit that impels the squire
To risk his neck, will set the world on fire,
When it impels proud princes, who, to fill
Their vacant hours up, hunt men and kill.
For fame--for fame unsated-Genius thirsts
And dies: thus mounts the bubble gay and bursts!
Thus Shelley blazed awhile-thus Byron shone,
And Burns-sons of the morning: they are gone!
Since they have pass'd away from earth in prime
Of manhood, surely in the abyme of time,
Else had they perish'd not with thoughts full-blown,
The seeds of mightier intellect are sown.
Are there not master-minds that in the deep
Abyss of time yet unawaken'd sleep?
Like birds of brighter plumage than have been
Discover'd yet, hereafter to be seen,
Poets profuse of many coloured thought
Shall from the morning's womb to life be brought *,
"The dew of thy birth is of the womb of the morning."
Gladden the favoured country where they shine,
And pour fresh lustre even on truths divine;
And new discoveries by science made
Shall to their songs bring illustration's aid.
Visions of glory they may see, and glow
With Milton's spirit-more than Milton know;
While prophecies now unfulfilled, but then
Complete, extend their intellectual ken.
Vain hope! still Shakspeare towers unmatched; and
Is Fancy's child with Spenser to compare?
With what an affluence of beauty now
The gay Elysiums in this island glow!
Nature hereafter never can improve
On high-born maids who win all hearts to love.
Who shall engirt by Venus' cestus be
Brighter than those in royal halls we see?
Though garmented in light they are, the rays
Of sparkling eyes outshine their diamonds' blaze !
Through Fancy's glass no poet can disclose
A fairer flower than the patrician rose ;
Perfect in shape, and beautiful in hue—
Shall future suns a lovelier bring to view?
As Britomart * in magic mirror view'd
The semblance of her knight, and that pursued;
* See Spenser's Faerie Queen, Book III. Canto ii. Stanzas 17, 18.
Thus in the glass of Fancy man beholds
Some object that to please him Passion moulds,-
Fame, fortune, honour, if of this possess'd,
Deeming himself to be as Croesus bless'd.
When won, though beautiful as god of day,
The golden idol has but feet of clay!
Many through gay saloons who laughing pass,
If window'd were their bosoms as with glass,
Would, as in Eblis' hall each glittering form,
Disclose to view the ever-burning worm.
Impostors flourish in this age of light:
Not least of these the wizard Exquisite.
His stars are diamond-studs, that glitter through
The foldings of a waistcoat rich in hue
As clouds at sunset on a summer's eve,
Where gold and silver tissues interweave.
His magic wand a cane of polish'd stem
Of rarest wood, and rough with many a gem.
His book an album, golden-clasp'd and bound
In velvet, wreath'd with flowers enamell'd round ;
Within are words omnipotent to charm
Unharden'd minds, and youthful spirits warm,
On satin paper, beautifully writ:
Above are emblems-for such pages fit!
Some in the hot-bed of a magazine
Would nurse their wit; you see in every line
* Clara micante auro flammasque imitata pyropo.-Ovid.
Their labour'd efforts to produce a store
Of caustic sayings, none produced before.
They latent virtues have, like gems that shone
On Aaron's breastplate, or the sage's stone.
Still, as the globe of knowledge we turn round,
More desolate wastes than cultured spots are found,
Though German mystics would reclaim-in vain-
Some tracts from speculation's dark domain.
Though Science superadds her annual tome
To treasured lore, predicts she things to come?
Hereafter mightier spirits may displace
Those in the world who fill no little
They may discover secret ties, that light
And heat and electricity unite:
Even gravitation, of material laws
The rule, may sink into a wider cause.
Our sons, the flights of science are so high,
On hippogriffs throughout the air may fly;
And fictions by ambitious bards devised,
In an inventive age be realised.
Truth-loving men, o'ermastering selfish will,
This world, a wider paradise, may fill;
And as they further wisdom's mine explore,
Will learn to separate from dross the ore.
Lovers of liberty, alas! proclaim
That man through life has but one selfish aim;
That every act, whatever be its fruit,
In self-regarding interest takes root.
A noble doctrine this our hopes to cheer!—
Fine promise of the millennary year!
While all that grace and beautify our lives
Must now be thrown aside as Reason thrives;
And Poesy, divested of the warm
Colours that Fancy gives, must lose her charm.
The little tyrant of his neighbourhood
Would be a patriot, since he hates the good
Who prosper in their fortunes, and will bawl
For equal laws, to be above them all:
Such paltry tricks as factious jugglers long
Have play'd, still unimproved, delude the throng.
Those who expediency the rule of right
Would make, at once extinguish Gospel-light,
Dethrone the Conscience, and let idols base,-
Ambition, Avarice,--usurp her place.
Pigmies in virtue are the great on earth,
When low the standard is of human worth.
Is an Utopian commonweath the sole
Object of thought-that only Reason's goal?
And has the world unknown no higher bliss
Than that which sanguine minds predict in this?
Minds that are mechanised by logic learn
To think by rule, but not for virtue yearn.
Virtue a never-failing zeal requires
To spread her influence-such as love inspires.
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