PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION.
WHAT tongue then may explain the various fate Which reigns o'er earth? or who to mortal eyes Illustrate this perplexing labyrinth
Of joy and woe thro' which the feet of man
Are doom'd to wander? That eternal Mind,
From passions, wants, and envy, far estrang'd,
Who built the spacious universe, and deck'd
Each part so richly with whate'er pertains
To life, to health, to pleasure, why bad he
The viper Evil creeping in pollute
The goodly scene, and with insidious rage,
While the poor inmate looks around and smiles,
Dart her fell sting with poison to his soul ?
Hard is the question, and from ancient days
Hath still oppress'd with care the sage's thought, 15
Hath drawn forth accents from the poet's lyre
Too sad, too deeply plaintive; nor did e'er
Those chiefs of humankind, from whom the light
Of heav'nly truth first gleam'd on barbʼrous lands,
Forget this dreadful secret, when they told
What wond'rous things had to their favour'd eyes
And ears on cloudy mountain been reveal'd,
Or in deep cave by nymph or pow'r divine,
Portentous oft' and wild: yet one I know,
Could I the speech of lawgivers assume,
One old and splendid tale I would record,
With which the Muse of Solon in sweet strains
Adorn'd this theme profound, and render'd all
Its darkness, all its terrors, bright as noon,
Or gentle as the golden star of eve.
Who knows not Solon? last and wisest far
Of those whom Greece triumphant in the height
Of glory styl'd her Fathers? him whose voice
Thro' Athens hush'd the storm of civil wrath,
Taught envious Want and cruel Wealth to join
In friendship, and with sweet compulsion tam'd
Minerva's eager people to his laws,
Which their own goddess in his breast inspir'd?
'Twas now the time when his heroic task
Seem'd but perform'd in vain, when, sooth'd by years
Of flatt'ring service, the fond multitude
Hung with their sudden counsels on the breath
Of great Pisistratus, that chief renown'd,
Whom Hermes and th' Idalian queen had train'd
E'en from his birth to ev'ry pow'rful art
Of pleasing and persuading, from whose lips
Flow'd eloquence which like the vows of love
Could steal away suspicion from the hearts
Of all who listen'd. Thus from day to day
He won the gen'ral suffrage, and beheld
Each rival overshadow'd and depress'd
Beneath his ampler state, yet oft complain'd
As one less kindly treated, who had hop’d
To merit favour, but submits perforce.
To find another's services preferr'd,
Nor yet relaxeth aught of faith or zeal.
Then tales were scatter'd of his envious foes,
Of snares that watch'd his fame, of daggers aim'd
Against his life. At last, with trembling limbs,
His hair diffus'd and wild, his garments loose,
And stain'd with blood from self-inflicted wounds,
He burst into the public place, as there,
There only, were his refuge, and declar'd
In broken words, with sighs of deep regret,
The mortal danger he had scarce repell❜d.
Fir'd with his tragic tale, th' indignant crowd,
To guard his steps, forthwith a menial band,
Array'd beneath his eye for deeds of war,
Decree: O still too lib'ral of their trust,
And oft' betray'd by over-grateful love,
The gen'rous people! Now behold him fenc'd
By mercenary weapons, like a king
Forth issuing from the city-gate at eve
To seek his rural mansion, and with pomp
Crowding the public road. The swain stops short,
And sighs; th' officious townsmen stand at gaze,
And shrinking give the sullen pageant room.
Yet not the less obsequious was his brow,
Nor less profuse of courteous words his tongue,
Of gracious gifts his hand, the while by stealth,
Like a small torrent fed with ev'ning show'rs,
His train increas'd; till at that fatal time,
Just as the public eye, with doubt and shame
Startled, began to question what it saw,
Swift as the sound of earthquakes rush'd a voice 85
Thro' Athens, that Pisistratus had fill'd
The rocky citadel with hostile arms,
Had barr'd the steep ascent, and sat within
Amid his hirelings meditating death
To all whose stubborn necks his yoke refus’d.
Where then was Solon? After ten long years
Of absence, full of haste, from foreign shores
The sage, the lawgiver, had now arriv'd,
Arriv'd, alas! to see that Athens, that
Fair temple rais'd by him, and sacred call'd
To Liberty and Concord, now profan'd
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