Classic Poem

— — Terrific Fiend! thou Monster fell,
— — Condemn'd in haunts profane to dwell,
— — — Why quit thy solitary Home,
— — — O'er wide Creation's paths to roam?
— — — Pale Tyrant of the timid Heart,
— — — Whose visionary spells can bind
— — — The strongest passions of the mind,
— — Freezing Life's current with thy baneful Art.

— — — Nature recoils when thou art near,
— — For round thy form all plagues are seen;
— — Thine is the frantic tone, the sullen mien,
— — — The glance of petrifying fear,
— — The haggard Brow, the low'ring Eye,
— — The hollow Cheek, the smother'd Sigh,
— When thy usurping fangs assail,
— The sacred Bonds of Friendship fail.
— — Meek-bosom'd Pity sues in vain;
— — Imperious Sorrow spurns relief,
— — Feeds on the luxury of Grief,
Drinks the hot Tear, and hugs the galling Chain.

— — Ah! plunge no more thy ruthless dart,
— — In the dark centre of the guilty Heart;
— — The Pow'r Supreme, with pitying eye,
— — Looks on the erring Child of Misery;
— — Mercy arrests the wing of Time,
— — To expiate the wretch's crime;
— — Insulted Heav'n consign'd thy brand
— — To the first Murd'rer's crimson hand.
— — Swift o'er the earth the Monster flew,
— — And round th' ensanguin'd Poisons threw,
— — By Conscience goaded — driven by Fear,
Till the meek Cherub Hope subdued his fell career.

— Thy Reign is past, when erst the brave
Imbib'd contagion o'er the midnight lamp,
Close pent in loathsome cells, where poisons damp
— Hung round the confines of a Living Grave;
— — — Where no glimm'ring ray illum'd
— — — The flinty walls, where pond'rous chains
— Bound the wan Victim to the humid earth,
— — — Where Valour, Genius, Taste, and Worth,
— — — In pestilential caves entomb'd,
Sought thy cold arms, and smiling mock'd their pains.

— — — There, — each procrastinated hour
— — — The woe-worn suff'rer gasping lay,
— — — While by his side in proud array
Stalk'd the Huge Fiend, Despotic Pow'r.
— — — There Reason clos'd her radiant eye,
— — — And fainting Hope retir'd to die,
— — — Truth shrunk appall'd,
— — — In spells of icy Apathy enthrall'd;
Till Freedom spurn'd the ignominious chain,
— — And roused from Superstition's night,
— — Exulting Nature claim'd her right,
And call'd dire Vengeance from her dark domain.

— — — Now take thy solitary flight
— — — Amid the turbid gales of night,
— — — Where Spectres starting from the tomb,
— — — Glide along th' impervious gloom;
— — — Or, stretch'd upon the sea-beat shore,
— — — Let the wild winds, as they roar,
— — — Rock Thee on thy Bed of Stone;
— — — Or, in gelid caverns pent,
— — — Listen to the sullen moan
Of subterraneous winds; — or glut thy sight
— — Where stupendous mountains rent
Hurl their vast fragments from their dizzy height.

— — At Thy approach the rifted Pine
— — Shall o'er the shatter'd Rock incline,
— — Whose trembling brow, with wild weeds drest,
— — Frowns on the tawny Eagle's nest;
— There enjoy the 'witching hour,
— — And freeze in Frenzy's dire conceit,
— — Or seek the Screech-owl's lone retreat,
On the bleak rampart of some nodding Tow'r.
— In some forest long and drear,
— — Tempt the fierce Banditti's rage,
— — War with famish'd Tygers wage,
— And mock the taunts of Fear.

— When across the yawning deep,
— The Demons of the Tempest sweep,
— Or deaf'ning Thunders bursting cast
— Their red bolts on the shivering mast,
— While fix'd below the sea-boy stands,
— — As threat'ning Death his soul dismays,
— He lifts his supplicating hands,
— — And shricks, and groans, and weeps, and prays,
— Till lost amid the floating fire
— The agonizing crew expire;
— Then let thy transports rend the air,
— For mad'ning Anguish feeds Despair.

— When o'er the couch of pale Disease
— The Mother bends, with tearful eye,
— And trembles, lest her quiv'ring sigh,
— Should wake the darling of her breast,
— — Now, by the taper's feeble rays,
— — She steals a last, fond, eager gaze.
— Ah, hapless Parent! gaze no more,
— Thy Cherub soars among the Blest,
— — Life's crimson Fount begins to freeze,
— — His transitory scene is o'er.

— She starts — she raves — her burning brain,
— — Consumes, unconscious of its fires,
— Dead to the Heart's convulsive Pain,
— — Bewilder'd Memory retires.
— See! See! she grasps her flowing hair,
From her fix'd eye the big drops roll,
Her proud Affliction mocks controul,
— And riots in Despair,

— — Such are thy haunts, malignant Pow'r,
— — There all thy murd'rous Poisons pour;
— — But come not near my calm retreat,
— — Where Peace and holy Friendship meet;
— — Where Science sheds a gentle ray,
— — And guiltless Mirth beguiles the day,
— — Where Bliss congenial to the Muse
— — Shall round my Heart her sweets diffuse,
— — Where, from each restless Passion free,
I give my noiseless hours, bless'd Poetry, to Thee.

— — Terrific Fiend! thou Monster fell,
— — Condemn'd in haunts profane to dwell,
— — — Why quit thy solitary Home,
— — — O'er wide Creation's paths to roam?
— — — Pale Tyrant of the timid Heart,
— — — Whose visionary spells can bind
— — — The strongest passions of the mind,
— — Freezing Life's current with thy baneful Art.

— — — Nature recoils when thou art near,
— — For round thy form all plagues are seen;
— — Thine is the frantic tone, the sullen mien,
— — — The glance of petrifying fear,
— — The haggard Brow, the low'ring Eye,
— — The hollow Cheek, the smother'd Sigh,
— When thy usurping fangs assail,
— The sacred Bonds of Friendship fail.
— — Meek-bosom'd Pity sues in vain;
— — Imperious Sorrow spurns relief,
— — Feeds on the luxury of Grief,
Drinks the hot Tear, and hugs the galling Chain.

— — Ah! plunge no more thy ruthless dart,
— — In the dark centre of the guilty Heart;
— — The Pow'r Supreme, with pitying eye,
— — Looks on the erring Child of Misery;
— — Mercy arrests the wing of Time,
— — To expiate the wretch's crime;
— — Insulted Heav'n consign'd thy brand
— — To the first Murd'rer's crimson hand.
— — Swift o'er the earth the Monster flew,
— — And round th' ensanguin'd Poisons threw,
— — By Conscience goaded — driven by Fear,
Till the meek Cherub Hope subdued his fell career.

— Thy Reign is past, when erst the brave
Imbib'd contagion o'er the midnight lamp,
Close pent in loathsome cells, where poisons damp
— Hung round the confines of a Living Grave;
— — — Where no glimm'ring ray illum'd
— — — The flinty walls, where pond'rous chains
— Bound the wan Victim to the humid earth,
— — — Where Valour, Genius, Taste, and Worth,
— — — In pestilential caves entomb'd,
Sought thy cold arms, and smiling mock'd their pains.

— — — There, — each procrastinated hour
— — — The woe-worn suff'rer gasping lay,
— — — While by his side in proud array
Stalk'd the Huge Fiend, Despotic Pow'r.
— — — There Reason clos'd her radiant eye,
— — — And fainting Hope retir'd to die,
— — — Truth shrunk appall'd,
— — — In spells of icy Apathy enthrall'd;
Till Freedom spurn'd the ignominious chain,
— — And roused from Superstition's night,
— — Exulting Nature claim'd her right,
And call'd dire Vengeance from her dark domain.

— — — Now take thy solitary flight
— — — Amid the turbid gales of night,
— — — Where Spectres starting from the tomb,
— — — Glide along th' impervious gloom;
— — — Or, stretch'd upon the sea-beat shore,
— — — Let the wild winds, as they roar,
— — — Rock Thee on thy Bed of Stone;
— — — Or, in gelid caverns pent,
— — — Listen to the sullen moan
Of subterraneous winds; — or glut thy sight
— — Where stupendous mountains rent
Hurl their vast fragments from their dizzy height.

— — At Thy approach the rifted Pine
— — Shall o'er the shatter'd Rock incline,
— — Whose trembling brow, with wild weeds drest,
— — Frowns on the tawny Eagle's nest;
— There enjoy the 'witching hour,
— — And freeze in Frenzy's dire conceit,
— — Or seek the Screech-owl's lone retreat,
On the bleak rampart of some nodding Tow'r.
— In some forest long and drear,
— — Tempt the fierce Banditti's rage,
— — War with famish'd Tygers wage,
— And mock the taunts of Fear.

— When across the yawning deep,
— The Demons of the Tempest sweep,
— Or deaf'ning Thunders bursting cast
— Their red bolts on the shivering mast,
— While fix'd below the sea-boy stands,
— — As threat'ning Death his soul dismays,
— He lifts his supplicating hands,
— — And shricks, and groans, and weeps, and prays,
— Till lost amid the floating fire
— The agonizing crew expire;
— Then let thy transports rend the air,
— For mad'ning Anguish feeds Despair.

— When o'er the couch of pale Disease
— The Mother bends, with tearful eye,
— And trembles, lest her quiv'ring sigh,
— Should wake the darling of her breast,
— — Now, by the taper's feeble rays,
— — She steals a last, fond, eager gaze.
— Ah, hapless Parent! gaze no more,
— Thy Cherub soars among the Blest,
— — Life's crimson Fount begins to freeze,
— — His transitory scene is o'er.

— She starts — she raves — her burning brain,
— — Consumes, unconscious of its fires,
— Dead to the Heart's convulsive Pain,
— — Bewilder'd Memory retires.
— See! See! she grasps her flowing hair,
From her fix'd eye the big drops roll,
Her proud Affliction mocks controul,
— And riots in Despair,

— — Such are thy haunts, malignant Pow'r,
— — There all thy murd'rous Poisons pour;
— — But come not near my calm retreat,
— — Where Peace and holy Friendship meet;
— — Where Science sheds a gentle ray,
— — And guiltless Mirth beguiles the day,
— — Where Bliss congenial to the Muse
— — Shall round my Heart her sweets diffuse,
— — Where, from each restless Passion free,
I give my noiseless hours, bless'd Poetry, to Thee.