26

Each sullen spectre chase, his balm at length,
Lenient of pain, through every fever'd pulse
With gentlest hand infus'd.

A pensive calm
Arose, but unassur'd: as, after winds
Of ruffling wind, the sea, subsiding slow,
Now Reason first,
Still trembles from the storm.
Her throne resuming, bid Devotion raise
To Heaven his eye; and through the turbid mist
By sense dark-drawn between, adoring own,
Sole arbiter of fate, one Cause supreme,
All-just, all-wise, who bids what still is best,"
In cloud, or sunshine; whose severest hand
Wounds but to heal, and chastens to amend.
Thus, in his bosom, every weak excess,
The rage of grief, the fellness of revenge,
To healthful measure temper'd and reduc'd
By Virtue's hand; and in her brightening beam
Each errour clear'd away, as fen-born fogs
Before th' ascending Sun; through faith he lives
Beyond Time's bounded continent, the walks
Of Sin and Death. Anticipating Heaven
In pious hope, he seems already there,
Safe on her sacred shore; and sees beyond,
In radiant view, the world of light and love,
Where Peace delights to dwell; where one fair morn
Still orient smiles, and one diffusive spring,
That fears no storm and shall no winter know,
Th' immortal year empurples. If a sigh
Yet murmurs from his breast, 'tis for the pangs
Those dearest names, a wife, a child must feel,
Still suffering in his fate: 'tis for a foe,
Who, deaf himself to mercy, may of Heaven
That mercy, when most wanted, ask in vain.

The Sun, now station'd with the lucid Twins,
O'er every southern clime had pour'd profuse
The rosy year; and in each pleasing hue,
That greens the leaf, or through the blossom glows
With florid light, his fairest month array'd:
While Zephyre, while the silver-footed Dews,
Her soft attendants, wide o'er field and grove
Fresh spirit breathe, and shed perfuming balm.
Nor here, in this chill region, on the brow
Of Winter's waste dominion, is unfelt
The ray ethereal, or unhail'd the rise

Of her mild reign. From warbling vale and hill,
With wild thyme flowering, betony, and balm,
Blue lavender and carmel's spicy root',
Song, fragrance, health, ambrosiate every breeze.

But, high above, the season full exerts
Its vernal force in yonder peopled rocks,
To whose wild solitude, from worlds unknown,
The birds of passage transmigrating come,
Unnumber'd colonies of foreign wing,
At Nature's summons their aerial state
Annual to found; and in bold voyage steer,
O'er this wide ocean, through yon pathless sky,
One certain flight to one appointed shore:
By Heaven's directive spirit, here to raise
Their temporary realm; and form secure,
Where food awaits them copious from the wave,
And shelter from the rock, their nuptial leagues:
Each tribe apart, and all on tasks of love,

To hatch the pregnant egg, to rear and guard
Their helpless infants, piously intent.

Led by the day abroad, with lonely step,

The root of this plant, otherwise named argatilis sylvaticus, is aromatic; and by the natives reckoned cordial to the stomach. See Martin's Western Isles of Scotland, p. 180.

And ruminating sweet and bitter thought,
Aurelius, from the western bay, his eye
Now rais'd to this amusive scene in air,
With wonder inark'd; now cast with level ray
Wide o'er the moving wilderness of waves,

From pole to pole through boundless space diffus'd,
Magnificently dreadful! where, at large,

Leviathan, with each inferior name

Of sea-born kinds, ten thousand thousand tribes,
Finds endless range for pasture and for sport,
Amaz'd he gazes, and adoring owns

The hand Almighty, who its channell❜d bed
Immeasurable sunk, and pour'd abroad,
Fenc'd with eternal mounds, the fluid sphere;
With every wind to waft large commerce on,
Join pole to pole, consociate sever'd worlds,
And link in bonds of intercourse and love
Earth's universal family. Now rose
Sweet evening's solemn hour. The Sun, declin'd
Hung golden o'er this nether firmament;
Whose broad cerulean mirror, calmly bright,
Gave back his beamy visage to the sky
With splendour undiminish'd; and each cloud,
White, azure, purple, glowing round his throne
In fair aërial landscape. Here, alone
On Earth's remotest verge, Aurelius breath'd
The healthful gale, and felt the smiling scene
With awe-mix'd pleasure, musing as he hung
In silence o'er the billows hush'd beneath.
When lo! a sound, amid the wave-worn rocks,
Deaf-murmuring rose, and plaintive roll'd along
From cliff to cavern: as the breath of winds,
At twilight hour, remote and hollow heard
Through wintry pines, high-waving o'er the steep
Of sky-crown'd Appenine. The seapye ceas'd
At once to warble. Screaming, from his nest
The fulmar soar'd, and shot a westward flight
From shore to sea. On came, before her hour,
Invading Night, and hung the troubled sky
With fearful blackness round 2. Sad Ocean's face
A curling undulation shivery swept

view

From wave to wave: and now impetuous rose,
Thick cloud and storm and ruin on his wing,
The raging South, and headlong o'er the deep
Fell horrible, with broad-descending blast.
Aloft, and safe beneath a sheltering cliff,
Whose moss-grown summit on the distant flood
Projected frowns, Aurelius stood appall'd:
His stunn'd ear smote with all the thundering main!
His eye with mountains surging to the stars!
Commotion infinite. Where yon last wave
Blends with the sky its foam, a ship
Shoots sudden forth, steep-falling from the clouds:
Yet distant seen and dim, till, onward borne
Before the blast, each growing sail expands,
Each mast aspires, and all th' advancing frame
Bounds on his eye distinct. With sharpen'd ken
Its course he watches, and in awful thought
That Power invokes, whose voice the wild winds hear,
Whose nod the surge reveres, to look from Heaven,
And save, who else must perish, wretched men,
In this dark hour, amid the dread abyss,
With fears amaz'd, by horrours compass'd round.
But O, ill-omen'd, death-devoted heads!
For Death bestrides the billow, nor your own,
Nor others' offer'd vows can stay the flight
Of instant fate. And, lo! his secret seat,
Where never sun-beam glimmer'd, deep amidst

2 See Martin's voyage to St. Kilda, p. 58.

The vapoury 'air with aromatic smells;
Then, drops of sovereign efficacy, drawn.
From mountain plants, within his lips infus'd.
Slow, from the mortal trance, as men from dreams
Of direful vision, shuddering he awakes:
While life, to scarce-felt motion, faintly lifts
His fluttering pulse, and gradual o'er his cheek
The rosy current wins its refluent way.
Recovering to new pain, his eyes he turn'd
Severe on Heaven, on the surrounding hills
With twilight dim, and on the crowd unknown
Dissolv'd in tears around: then clos'd again,
As loathing light and life. At length, in sounds
Broken and eager, from his heaving breast

Steep from the clouds with horrid shade impends-Distraction spoke-" Down, down with every sail.

In tempest o'er our heads-My soul's last hope!
We will not part-Help, help! yon wave, behold!
That swells betwixt, has borne her from my sight.
O, for a sun to light this black abyss !
Gone-lost-for ever lost!" He ceas'd. Amaze
And trembling on the pale assistants fell:
Whom now, with greeting and the words of peace,

Pour'd out to Heaven in sighs: "Thy will be done, Aurelius bid depart. A pause ensued,

Shall be our frequent theme. Then shalt thou hear Left broad awake, amid th' incumbent lour

Like some drear spectre from the grave unbound:
Then, scaling youder cliff, proue o'er its brow
He hung, in act to plunge amid the flood [voice,
Scarce from that height discern'd. Nor reason's
Nor ow'd submission to the will of Heaven,
Restrains him; but, as passion whirls his thought,
Fond expectation, that perchance escap'd,
Though passing all belief, the frailer skiff,
To which himself had borne th' unhappy fair,
May yet be seen. Around, o'er sea and shore,
He roll'd his ardent eye; but nought around
On land or wave within his ken appears,
Nor skiff, nor floating corse, on which to shed
The last sad tear, and lay the covering mould!

And now, wide open'd by the wakeful hours
Heaven's orient gate, forth on her progress comes
Aurora smiling, and her purple lamp

Lifts high o'er earth and sea: while, all-unveil'd,
The vast horizon on Amyntor's eye

Pours full its scenes of wonder, wildly great,
Magnificently various. From this steep,
Diffus'd immense in rolling prospect lay

The northern deep. Amidst, from space to space,
Her numerous isles, rich gems of Albion's crown,
As slow th' ascending mists disperse in air,
Shoot gradual from her bosom: and beyond,
Like distant clouds blue-floating on the verge
Of evening skies, break forth the dawning hills.
A thousand landscapes! barren some and bare,
Rock pil'd on rock, amazing, up to Heaven,
Of horrid grandeur: some with sounding ash,
Or oak broad-shadowing, or the spiry growth
Of waving pine high-plum'd, and all beheld
More lovely in the Sun's adorning beam,
Who now, fair-rising o'er yon eastern cliff,
The vernal verdure tinctures gay with gold.

Meanwhile Aurelius, wak'd from sweet repose,
Repose that Temperance sheds in timely dews
On all who live to her, his mournful guest
Came forth to hail, as hospitable rites
And Virtue's rule enjoin: but first to him,
Spring of all charity, who gave the heart
With kindly sense to glow, his matin-song,
Superior duty, thus the sage addrest:

"Fountain of light! from whom yon orient Sun
First drew his splendour; Source of life and love!
Whose smile now wakes o'er Earth's rekindling face
The boundless blush of spring; O! First and Best!
Thy essence, though from human sight and search,
Though from the climb of all created thought,
Ineffably remov'd; yet man himself,
Thy lowest child of reason, man may read
Unbounded power, intelligence supreme,
The Maker's hand, on all his works imprest,
In characters coeval with the Sun,

And with the Sun to last; from world to world,
From age to age, in every clime, disclos'd,
Sole revelation through all time the same.
Hail, universal Goodness! with full stream
For ever flowing from beneath the throne

To days of future life; or whether now
The mortal hour is instant, still vouchsafe,
Parent and friend, to guide me blameless on
Through this dark scene of errour and of ill,
Thy truth to light me, and thy peace to cheer.
All else, of me unask'd, thy will supreme
Withhold or grant: and let that will be done."
This from the soul in silence breath'd sincere,
The hill's steep side with firm elastic step
He lightly scal'd: such health the frugal board,
The morn's fresh breath that exercise respires
In mountain-walks, and conscience free from blame,
Our life's best cordial, can through age prolong.
There, lost in thought, and self-abandon'd, lay
The man unknown; nor heard approach his host,
Nor rais'd his drooping head. Aurelius, mov'd
By soft compassion, which the savage scene,
Shut up and barr'd amid surrounding seas
From human commerce, quicken'd into sense
Of sharper sorrow, thus apart began.

[spread,

"O sight, that from the eye of wealti. or pride,
Ev'n in their hour of vainest thought, might draw
A feeling tear; whom yesterday beheld
By love and fortune crown'd, of all possest
That Fancy, tranc'd in fairest vision, dreams;
Now lost to all, each hope that softens life,
Each bliss that cheers; there, on the damp carth
Beneath a heaven unknown, behold him now!
And let the gay, the fortunate, the great,
The proud, be taught, what now the wretched feel,
The happy have to fear. O man forlorn,
Too plain I read thy heart, by fondness drawn
To this sad scene, to sights that but inflame
Its tender anguish-"

"Hear me, Heaven!" exclaim'd
The frantic mourner, "could that anguish rise
To madness and to mortal agony,

I yet would bless my fate; by one kind pang,
From what I feel, the keener pangs of thought
For ever freed. To me the Sun is lost:
To me the future flight of days and years
Is darkness, is despair-But who complains
Forgets that he can die. O, sainted maid!
For such in Heaven thou art, if from thy seat
Of holy rest, beyond these changeful skies,
If names on Earth most sacred once and dear,
A lover and a friend, if yet these names
Can wake thy pity, dart one guiding ray
To light me where, in cave or creek, are thrown
Thy lifeless limbs: that I-O grief supreme!
O fate remorseless! was thy lover sav'd
For such a task?-that I those dear remains,
With maiden-rites adorn'd, at last may lodge
Beneath the hallow'd vault; and, weeping there
O'er thy cold urn, await the hour to close
These eyes in peace, and mix this dust with thine!"
"Such, and so dire," reply'd the cordial friend

In Pity's look and language, "such, alas!
Were late my thoughts. Whate'er the human heart
Can most afflict, grief, agony, despair,

Through earth, air, sea, to all things that have life: Have all been mine, and with alternate war

From all that live on earth, in air and sea,
The great community of Nature's sons,
To thee, first Father, ceaseless praise ascend!
And in the reverent hymn my grateful voice
Be duly heard, among thy works not least,
Nor lowest; with intelligence inform'd,

To know thee, and adore; with free-will crown'd,
Where Virtue leads, to follow and be blest.
O, whether by thy prime decree ordain'd

This bosom ravag'd. Hearken then, good youth;
My story mark, and from another's fate,
Pre-eminently wretched, learn thy own,
Sad as it seems, to balance and to bear.

"In me, a man behold, whose morn serene,
Whose noon of better life, with honour spent,
In virtuous purpose, or in honest act,
Drew fair distinction on my public name,
From those among mankind, the nobler few,

30

Whose praise is fame; but there, in that true source
Whence happiness with purest stream descends,
In home found peace and love, supremely blest!
Union of hearts, consent of wedded wills,
By friendship knit, by mutual faith secur'd
Our hopes and fears, our Earth and Heaven the
[same!
At last, Amyntor, in my failing age,
Fallen from such height, and with the felon-herd,
Robbers and outlaws, number'd-thought that still
Stings deep the heart, and clothes the cheek with
shame!

Then doom'd to feel what guilt alone should fear,
The hand of public vengeance: arm'd by rage,
Not justice; rais'd to injure, not redress;
To rob, not guard; to ruin, not defend :
And all, O sovereign Reason! all deriv'd

And this blind fury of commission'd rage,

Of party-vengeance, to a fatal foc,
Known and abhorr'd for deeds of direst name,
Was given in charge: a foe, whom blood-stain'd zeal,
For what-O hear it not, all-righteous Heaven!
Lest thy rous'd thunder burst-for what was deem'd
Religion's cause, had savag'd to a brute,
More deadly fell than hunger ever stung
His band he arm'd,
To prowl in wood or wild.
Sons of perdition, miscreants with all guilt
Familiar, and in each dire art of death
Train'd ruthless up. As tigers on their prey,
On my defenceless lands those fiercer beasts
Devouring fell: nor that sequester'd shade,
That sweet recess, where Love and Virtue long
In happy league had dwelt, which war itself

From power that claims thy warrant to do wrong! Beheld with reverence, could their fury scape;
A right divine to violate unblam'd

Each law, each rule, that, by himself observ'd,
The God prescribes whose sanction kings pretend!
"O Charles! O monarch! in long exile train'd,
Whole hopeless years, th' oppressor's hand to know
How hateful and how hard; thyself reliev'd,
Now hear thy people, groaning under wrongs
Of equal load, adjure thee by those days
Of want and woe, of danger and despair,
As Heaven has thine, to pity their distress!
"Yet, from the plain good meaning of my heart,
Be far th' unhallow'd licence of abuse;
Be far th' bitterness of saintly zeal,
That, impious hid behind the patriot's name,
Masks hate and malice to the legal throne,
In justice founded, circumscrib'd by laws,
The prince to guard—but guard the people too:
Chief, one prime good to guard inviolate,
Soul of all worth, and sum of human bliss,
Fair Freedom, birthright of all thinking kinds,
Reason's great charter, from no king deriv'd,
By none to be reclaim'd, man's right divine,
Which God, who gave, indelible pronounc'd.
"But if, disclaiming this his heaven-own'd right,
This first best tenure by which monarchs rule;
If, meant the blessing, he becomes the bane,
The wolf, not shepherd, of his subject-flock,
To grind and tear, not shelter and protect,
Wide-wasting where he reigns-to such a prince,
Allegiance kept were treason to mankind;
And loyalty, revolt from virtue's law.
For say, Amyntor, does just Heaven enjoin
That we should homage Hell? or bend the knee
To earthquake, or volcano, when they rage,
Rend Earth's firm frame, and in one boundless grave
Engulf their thousands? Yet, O grief to tell!
Yet such, of late, o'er this devoted land,
Was public rule. Our servile stripes and chains,
Our sighs and groans resounding from the steep
Of wintry hill, or waste untravell'd heath,
Last refuge of our wretchedness, not guilt,
Proclaim'd it load to Heaven: the arm of power
Extended fatal, but to crush the head
It ought to screen, or with a parent's love
Reclaim from errour, not with deadly hate,
The tyrant's law, exterminate who err.

"In this wide ruin were my fortune sunk:
Myself, as one contagious to his kind,
Whom Nature, whom the social life renounc'd,
Unsummon'd, unimpleaded, was to death,
To shameful death adjudg'd; against my head
The price of blood proclaim'd, and at my heels
Let loose the murderous cry of human hounds.

Despoil'd, defac'd, and wrapt in wasteful flames:
For flame and rapine their consuming march,
From hill to vale, by daily ruin mark'd.
So, borne by winds along, in baneful cloud,
Embody'd locusts from the wing descend
On berb, fruit, flower, and kill the ripening year:
While, waste behind, destruction on their track
And ghastly famine wait. My wife and child
He dragg'd, the ruffian dragg'd-O Heaven! do L
A man, survive to tell it? At the hour
Sacred to rest, amid the sighs and tears
Of all who saw and curs'd his coward-rage,
He forc'd, unpitying, from their midnight-bed,
By menace, or by torture, from their fears
My last retreat to learn; and still detains
Beneath his roof accurst, that best of wives!
Emelia, and our only pledge of love,
My blooming Theodora !-Manhood there,
And Nature bleed-Ah! let not busy thought
Search thither, but avoid the fatal coast:
Discovery, there, once more my peace of mind
Might wreck; once more to desperation sink
My hopes in Heaven." He said: but O, sad Muse!
Can all thy moving energy, of power

To shake the heart, to freeze th' arrested blood,
With words that weep, and strains that agonize;
Can all this mournful magic of thy voice
Tell what Amyntor feels? "O Heaven! art thou--
What have I heard?-Aurelius! art thou he?—
Confusion! horrour!--that most wrong'd of men!
And, O most wretched too! alas! no more,
No more a father-On that fatal flood,
Thy Theodora-" At these words he fell.
A deadly cold ran freezing through his veins:
As on his way
And Life was on the wing, her loath'd abode
For ever to forsake.
The traveller, from Heaven by lightning struck,
Is fix'd at once immoveable; his eye
With terrour glaring wild; his stiffening limbs
In sudden marble bound: so stood, so look'd
The heart-smote parent at this tale of death,
Half-utter'd, yet too plain. No sign to rise,
No tear had force to flow; his senses all,
Through all their powers, suspended, and subdued.
Silence for a space-
To chill amazement.
Such dismal silence saddens earth and sky
Ere first the thunder breaks-on either side
At last,
Fill'd up this interval severe.

As from some vision that to frenzy fires
The sleeper's brain, Amyntor, waking wild,
A poniard, hid beneath his various robe,
Drew furious forth-" Me, me," he cry'd,. "on me
Let all thy wrongs be visited; and thus