No More Learning

This favour'd region of the Cyprian queen
Received its freight--a heaven-abandon'd scene.
Where Falsehood fills the throne, while Truth retires,
And vainly mourns her half-extinguish'd fires.
Vile in its origin, and viler still
By all incentives that seduce the will,
It seems Elysium to the sons of Lust,
But a foul dungeon to the good and just.
Exulting o'er his slaves, the winged God
Here in a theatre his triumphs show'd,
Ample to hold within its mighty round
His captive train, from Thule's northern bound
To far Taprobane, a countless crowd,
Who, to the archer boy, adoring, bow'd.
Sad fantoms shook above their Gorgon wings--
Fantastic longings for unreal things,
And fugitive delights, and lasting woes;
The summer's biting frost, and winter's rose;
And penitence and grief, that dragg'd along
The royal lawless pair, that poets sung.
One, by his Spartan plunder, seal'd the doom
Of hapless Troy--the other rescued Rome.
Beneath, as if in mockery of their woe,
The tumbling flood, with murmurs deep and low,
Return'd their wailings; while the birds above
With sweet aerial descant fill'd the grove.
And all beside the river's winding bed
Fresh flowers in gay confusion deck'd the mead,
Painting the sod with every scent and hue
That Flora's breath affords, or drinks the morning dew,
And many a solemn bower, with welcome shade,
Over the dusky stream a shelter made.
And when the sun withdrew his slanting ray,
And winter cool'd the fervours of the day,
Then came the genial hours, the frequent feast
And circling times of joy and balmy rest.
New day and night were poised in even scale,
And spring awoke her equinoctial gale,
And Progne now and Philomel begun
With genial toils to greet the vernal sun.
Just then--O hapless mortals! that rely
On fickle fortune's ever-changing sky--
E'en in that season, when, with sacred fire,
Dan Cupid seem'd his subjects to inspire,
That warms the heart, and kindles in the look,
And all beneath the moon obey his yoke--
I saw the sad reverse that lovers own,
I heard the slaves beneath their bondage groan;
I saw them sink beneath the deadly weight
And the long tortures that forerun their fate.
Sad disappointments there in meagre forms
Were seen, and feverish dreams, and fancied harms;
And fantoms rising from the yawning tomb
Were seen to muster in the gathering gloom
Around the car; and some were seen to climb,
While cruel fate reversed their steps sublime.
And empty notions in the port were seen,
And baffled hopes were there with cloudy mien.
There was expensive gain, and gain that lost,
And amorous schemes by fortune's favour cross'd;
And wearisome repose, and cares that slept.
There was the semblance of disgrace, that kept
The youth from dire mischance on whom it fell,
And glory darken'd on the gloom of hell;
Perfidious loyalty, and honest fraud,
And wisdom slow, and headlong thirst of blood;
The dungeon, where the flowery paths decoy;
The painful, hard escape, with long annoy.
I saw the smooth descent the foot betray,
And the steep rocky path that leads again to day.
There in the gloomy gulf confusion storm'd,
And moody rage its wildest freaks perform'd;
And settled grief was there; and solid night,
But rarely broke with fitful gleams of light
From joy's fantastic hand. Not Vulcan's forge,
When his Cyclopean caves the fumes disgorge;
Nor the deep mine of Mongibel, that throws
The fiery tempest o'er eternal snows;
Nor Lipari, whose strong sulphureous blast
O'ercanopies with flames the watery waste;
Nor Stromboli, that sweeps the glowing sky
With red combustion, with its rage could vie. --
Little he loves himself that ventures there,
For there is ceaseless woe and fell despair:
Yet, in this dolorous dungeon long confined,
Till time had grizzled o'er my locks, I pined.
There, dreaming still of liberty to come,
I spent my summers in this noisome gloom;
Yet still a dubious joy my grief controll'd,
To spy such numbers in that darksome hold.
But soon to gall my seeming transport turn'd,
And my illustrious partner's fate I mourn'd;
And often seem'd, with sympathising woe,
To melt in solvent tears like vernal snow.
I turn'd away, but, with inverted glance,
Perused the fleeting shapes that fill'd my trance;
Like him that feels a moment's short delight
When a fine picture fleets before his sight.

BOYD.




THE TRIUMPH OF CHASTITY.

_Quando ad un giogo ed in Un tempo quivi. _


When to one yoke at once I saw the height
Of gods and men subdued by Cupid's might,
I took example from their cruel fate,
And by their sufferings eased my own hard state;
Since Phoebus and Leander felt like pain,
The one a god, the other but a man;
One snare caught Juno and the Carthage dame
(Her husband's death prepared her funeral flame--
'Twas not a cause that Virgil maketh one);
I need not grieve, that unprepared, alone,
Unarm'd, and young, I did receive a wound,
Or that my enemy no hurt hath found
By Love; or that she clothed him in my sight,
And took his wings, and marr'd his winding flight;
No angry lions send more hideous noise
From their beat breasts, nor clashing thunder's voice
Rends heaven, frights earth, and roareth through the air
With greater force than Love had raised, to dare
Encounter her of whom I write; and she
As quick and ready to assail as he:
Enceladus when Etna most he shakes,
Nor angry Scylla, nor Charybdis makes
So great and frightful noise, as did the shock
Of this (first doubtful) battle: none could mock
Such earnest war; all drew them to the height
To see what 'mazed their hearts and dimm'd their sight.
Victorious Love a threatening dart did show
His right hand held; the other bore a bow,
The string of which he drew just by his ear;
No leopard could chase a frighted deer
(Free, or broke loose) with quicker speed than he
Made haste to wound; fire sparkled from his eye.
I burn'd, and had a combat in my breast,
Glad t' have her company, yet 'twas not best
(Methought) to see her lost, but 'tis in vain
T' abandon goodness, and of fate complain;
Virtue her servants never will forsake,
As now 'twas seen, she could resistance make:
No fencer ever better warded blow,
Nor pilot did to shore more wisely row
To shun a shelf, than with undaunted power
She waved the stroke of this sharp conqueror.
Mine eyes and heart were watchful to attend,
In hope the victory would that way bend
It ever did; and that I might no more
Be barr'd from her; as one whose thoughts before
His tongue hath utter'd them you well may see
Writ in his looks; "Oh! if you victor be
Great sir," said I, "let her and me be bound
Both with one yoke; I may be worthy found,
And will not set her free, doubt not my faith:"
When I beheld her with disdain and wrath
So fill'd, that to relate it would demand
A better muse than mine: her virtuous hand
Had quickly quench'd those gilded fiery darts
Which, dipp'd in beauty's pleasure, poison hearts.