The Works of Alexander Pope Part 67

Straight a short thunder breaks the frozen sky: 130 Oft, as in airy rings they skim the heath, The clam'rous lapwings feel the leaden death: Oft, as the mounting larks their notes prepare, They fall, and leave their little lives in air.[60]

In genial spring, beneath the quiv'ring shade, 135 Where cooling vapours breathe along the mead, The patient fisher takes his silent stand, Intent, his angle trembling in his hand:[61]

With looks unmoved, he hopes[62] the scaly breed, And eyes the dancing cork, and bending reed. 140 Our plenteous streams a various race supply, The bright-eyed perch with fins of Tyrian dye, The silver eel, in s.h.i.+ning volumes[63] rolled, The yellow carp, in scales bedropped with gold,[64]

Swift trouts, diversified with crimson stains, 145 And pikes, the tyrants of the wat'ry plains.[65]

Now Cancer glows with Phoebus' fiery car:[66]

The youth rush eager to the sylvan war,[67]

Swarm o'er the lawns, the forest walks surround, Rouse the fleet hart, and cheer the opening hound. 150 Th' impatient courser pants in ev'ry vein, And pawing, seems to beat the distant plain.

Hills, vales, and floods appear already crossed, And ere he starts, a thousand steps are lost.[68]

See the bold youth strain up the threat'ning[69] steep, 155 Rush through the thickets, down the valleys sweep, Hang o'er their coursers' heads with eager speed, And earth rolls back beneath the flying steed.[70]

Let old Arcadia boast her ample plain, Th' immortal huntress, and her virgin-train; 160 Nor envy, Windsor! since thy shades have seen As bright a G.o.ddess, and as chaste a queen;[71]

Whose care, like hers, protects the sylvan reign,[72]

The earth's fair light, and empress of the main.[73]

Here too, 'tis sung, of old Diana strayed, 165 And Cynthus' top forsook for Windsor shade: Here was she seen o'er airy wastes to rove, Seek the clear spring, or haunt the pathless grove;[74]

Here armed with silver bows, in early dawn, Her buskined virgins traced the dewy lawn. 170 Above the rest a rural nymph was famed,[75]

Thy offspring, Thames! the fair Lodona named; (Lodona's fate, in long oblivion cast, The muse shall sing, and what she sings shall last.) Scarce could the G.o.ddess from her nymph be known, 175 But by the crescent and the golden zone.[76]

She scorned the praise of beauty, and the care; A belt her waist, a fillet binds her hair;[77]

A painted quiver on her shoulder sounds,[78]

And with her dart the flying deer she wounds. 180 It chanced, as eager of the chace, the maid Beyond the forest's verdant limits strayed, Pan saw and loved, and burning with desire[79]

Pursued her flight, her flight increased his fire.

Not half so swift the trembling doves can fly, 185 When the fierce eagle cleaves the liquid sky; Not half so swiftly the fierce eagle moves, When through the clouds he drives the trembling doves,[80]

As from the G.o.d she flew with furious pace, Or as the G.o.d, more furious urged the chace.[81] 190 Now fainting, sinking, pale, the nymph appears; Now close behind, his sounding steps she hears; And now his shadow reached her as she run,[82]

His shadow lengthened by the setting sun; And now his shorter breath, with sultry air, 195 Pants on her neck, and fans her parting hair.[83]

In vain on father Thames she calls for aid, Nor could Diana help her injured maid.

Faint, breathless, thus she prayed, nor prayed in vain; "Ah Cynthia! ah--though banished from thy train, 200 Let me, O let me, to the shades repair, My natives shades--there weep, and murmur there."

She said, and melting as in tears she lay, In a soft, silver stream dissolved away.

The silver stream her virgin coldness keeps, 205 For ever murmurs, and for ever weeps; Still bears the name the hapless virgin bore,[84]

And bathes the forest where she ranged before.

In her chaste current oft the G.o.ddess laves, And with celestial tears augments the waves.[85] 210 Oft in her gla.s.s the musing shepherd spies[86]

The headlong mountains and the downward skies,[87]

The wat'ry landscape of the pendant woods, And absent[88] trees that tremble in the floods; In the clear azure gleam the flocks are seen, 215 And floating forests paint the waves with green, Through the fair scene roll slow the ling'ring streams, Then foaming pour along, and rush into the Thames.

Thou too, great father of the British floods!

With joyful pride survey'st our lofty woods; 220 Where tow'ring oaks their growing[89] honours rear, And future navies on thy sh.o.r.es appear.

Not Neptune's self from all his[90] streams receives A wealthier tribute than to thine he gives.

No seas so rich, so gay no banks appear,[91] 225 No lake so gentle, and no spring so clear.

Nor Po[92] so swells the fabling poet's lays,[93]

While led along the skies his current strays,[94]

As thine,[95] which visits Windsor's famed abodes, To grace the mansion of our earthly G.o.ds: 230 Nor all his stars above a l.u.s.tre show, Like the bright beauties on thy banks below;[96]

Where Jove, subdued by mortal pa.s.sion still, Might change Olympus for a n.o.bler hill.

Happy the man whom this bright court approves,[97] 235 His sov'reign favours, and his country loves:[98]

Happy next him, who to these shades retires, Whom nature charms, and whom the muse inspires: Whom humbler joys of home-felt quiet please, Successive study, exercise, and ease. 240 He gathers health from herbs the forest yields, And of their fragrant physic spoils the fields: With chemic art exalts the min'ral pow'rs, And draws the aromatic souls of flow'rs: Now marks the course of rolling orbs on high; 245 O'er figured worlds now travels with his eye; Of ancient writ unlocks the learned store, Consults the dead, and lives past ages o'er: Or wand'ring thoughtful in the silent wood, Attends the duties of the wise and good,[99] 250 T' observe a mean, be to himself a friend, To follow nature, and regard his end;[100]

Or looks on heav'n with more than mortal eyes, Bids his free soul expatiate in the skies, Amid her kindred stars familiar roam, 255 Survey the region, and confess her home!

Such was the life great Scipio once admired, Thus Atticus, and Trumbull thus retired.

Ye sacred Nine! that all my soul possess, Whose raptures fire me, and whose visions bless,[101] 260 Bear me, oh bear me to sequestered scenes, The bow'ry mazes, and surrounding greens;[102]

To Thames's banks which fragrant breezes fill, Or where ye Muses sport on Cooper's Hill.

On Cooper's Hill eternal wreaths shall grow 265 While lasts the mountain,[103] or while Thames shall flow.

I seem through consecrated walks to rove,[104]

I hear soft music die along the grove: Led by the sound, I roam from shade to shade, By G.o.d-like poets venerable made:[105] 270 Here his first lays[106] majestic[107] Denham sung; There the last numbers flowed from Cowley's tongue.[108]

O early lost![109] what tears the river shed,[110]

When the sad pomp along his banks was led![111]

His drooping swans on ev'ry note expire,[112] 275 And on his willows hung each muse's lyre.[113]

Since fate relentless stopped their heav'nly voice, No more the forests ring, or groves rejoice; Who now shall charm the shades, where Cowley strung His living[114] harp, and lofty Denham sung? 280 But hark! the groves rejoice, the forest rings!

Are these reviv'd? or is it Granville sings![115]

'Tis yours, my lord, to bless our soft retreats, And call the muses to their ancient seats; To paint anew the flow'ry sylvan scenes, 285 To crown the forests with immortal greens, Make Windsor-hills in lofty numbers rise, And lift her turrets nearer to the skies; To sing those honours you deserve to wear,[116]

And add new l.u.s.tre to her silver star.[117] 290 Here[118] n.o.ble Surrey[119] felt the sacred rage, Surrey, the Granville of a former age: Matchless his pen, victorious was his lance, Bold in the lists, and graceful in the dance: In the same shades the Cupids tuned his lyre 295 To the same notes of love, and soft desire: Fair Geraldine,[120] bright object of his vow, Then filled the groves, as heavenly Mira now.[121]

Oh would'st thou sing what heroes Windsor bore, What kings first breathed upon her winding sh.o.r.e, 300 Or raise old warriors, whose adored remains In weeping vaults her hallowed earth contains![122]

With Edward's acts adorn the s.h.i.+ning page,[123]

Stretch his long triumphs down through ev'ry age, Draw monarchs chained,[124] and Crecy's glorious field, 305 The lilies[125] blazing on the regal s.h.i.+eld:[126]

Then, from her roofs when Verrio's[127] colours fall, And leave inanimate the naked wall, Still in thy song should vanquished France appear, And bleed for ever under Britain's spear.[128] 310 Let softer strains ill-fated Henry[129] mourn, And palms eternal flourish round his urn.

Here o'er the martyr-king the marble weeps, And, fast beside him, once-feared Edward[130] sleeps: Whom not th' extended Albion could contain, 315 From old Belerium[131] to the northern main,[132]

The grave unites; where ev'n the great find rest, And blended lie th' oppressor and th' oppressed!

Make sacred Charles's tomb for ever known,[133]

(Obscure the place, and uninscribed the stone)[134] 320 Oh fact accurst! what tears has Albion shed,[135]

Heav'ns, what new wounds! and how her old have bled!

She saw her sons with purple death expire, Her sacred domes involved in rolling fire,[136]

A dreadful series of intestine wars, 325 Inglorious triumphs and dishonest scars.[137]

At length great ANNA said--"Let discord cease!"[138]

She said, the world obeyed, and all was peace!

In that blest moment, from his oozy bed Old father Thames advanced his rev'rend head;[139] 330 His tresses dropped with dews,[140] and o'er the stream[141]

His s.h.i.+ning horns[142] diffused a golden gleam; Graved on his urn, appeared the moon that guides His swelling waters, and alternate tides; The figured streams in waves of silver rolled, 335 And on their banks Augusta[143] rose in gold.

Around his throne the sea-born brothers[144] stood, Who swell with tributary urns his flood: First the famed authors of his ancient name,[145]

The winding Isis and the fruitful Thame;[146] 340 The Kennet swift, for silver eels renowned;[147]

The Loddon slow, with verdant alders crowned;[148]

Cole, whose dark streams his flow'ry islands lave; And chalky Wey,[149] that rolls a milky wave: The blue, transparent Vandalis[150] appears; 345 The gulphy Lee his sedgy tresses rears;[151]

And sullen Mole, that hides his diving flood;[152]

And silent Darent, stained with Danish blood.[153]

High in the midst, upon his urn reclined, (His sea-green mantle waving with the wind)[154] 350 The G.o.d appeared: he turned his azure eyes Where Windsor-domes and pompous turrets rise; Then bowed and spoke;[155] the winds forget to roar, And the hushed waves glide softly to the sh.o.r.e.[156]

"Hail, sacred Peace! hail, long-expected days, 355 That Thames's glory to the stars shall raise!

Though Tiber's streams immortal Rome behold, Though foaming Hermus swells with tides of gold,[157]

From heav'n itself though sevenfold Nilus flows, And harvests on a hundred realms bestows,[158] 360 These now no more shall be the muse's themes, Lost in my fame, as in the sea their streams.

Let Volga's banks with iron squadrons s.h.i.+ne,[159]

And groves of lances glitter on the Rhine; Let barb'rous Ganges arm a servile train; 365 Be mine the blessings of a peaceful reign.

No more my sons shall dye with British blood Red Iber's sands, or Ister's foaming flood:[160]

Safe on my sh.o.r.e each unmolested swain Shall tend the flocks, or reap the bearded grain; 370 The shady empire shall retain no trace[161]

Of war or blood, but in the sylvan chace; The trumpet sleep while cheerful horns are blown, And arms employed on birds and beasts alone.[162]

Behold! th' ascending villas on my side, 375 Project long shadows o'er the crystal tide; Behold! Augusta's glitt'ring spires increase, And temples rise,[163] the beauteous works of peace.

I see, I see, where two fair cities bend Their ample bow, a new Whitehall ascend![164] 380 There mighty nations shall inquire their doom, The world's great oracle in times to come;[165]

There kings shall sue, and suppliant states be seen Once more to bend before a British Queen.[166]

Thy trees, fair Windsor![167] now shall leave their woods,[168]

And half thy forests rush into thy floods,[169] 386 Bear Britain's thunder, and her cross[170] display, To the bright regions of the rising day;[171]

Tempt icy seas,[172] where scarce the waters roll, Where clearer flames glow round the frozen pole; 390 Or under southern skies exalt[173] their sails, Led by new stars, and borne by spicy gales![174]

For me the balm shall bleed, and amber flow, The coral redden, and the ruby glow, The pearly sh.e.l.l its lucid globe infold, 395 And Phoebus warm the ripening ore to gold.[175]

The time shall come, when, free as seas or wind,[176]

Unbounded Thames shall flow for all mankind,[177]

Whole nations enter with each swelling tide, And seas but join the regions they divide;[178] 400 Earth's distant ends our glory shall behold, And the new world launch forth to seek the old.

Then s.h.i.+ps of uncouth form shall stem the tide, And feathered people crowd my wealthy side, And naked youths[179] and painted chiefs admire[180] 405 Our speech, our colour, and our strange attire.

Oh stretch thy reign, fair Peace! from sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e, Till conquest cease, and slav'ry be no more; Till the freed Indians in their native groves Reap their own fruits, and woo their sable loves, 410 Peru once more a race of kings behold, And other Mexicos be roofed with gold.[181]

Exiled by thee from earth to deepest h.e.l.l, In brazen bonds,[182] shall barb'rous Discord dwell: Gigantic Pride, pale Terror, gloomy Care, 415 And mad Ambition shall attend her there: There purple Vengeance bathed in gore retires, Her weapons blunted, and extinct her fires: There hateful Envy her own snakes shall feel, And Persecution mourn her broken wheel: 420 There Faction roar, Rebellion bite her chain,[183]

And gasping Furies thirst for blood in vain."

Here cease thy flight, nor with unhallowed lays Touch the fair fame of Albion's golden days: The thoughts of G.o.ds let Granville's verse recite, 425 And bring the scenes of opening fate to light.[184]

My humble muse, in unambitious strains, Paints the green forests and the flow'ry plains,[185]