Classic Poem

I.

Sweet Solitude, thou placid queen,
Of modest air, and brow serene!
'Tis thou inspir'st the sage's themes,
The poet's visionary dreams.

II.

Parent of virtue, nurse of thought!
By thee were saints and patriarchs taught;
Wisdom from thee her treasures drew,
And in thy lap fair science grew.

III.

Whate'er exalts, rafines, and charms,
Invites to thought, to virtue warms;
Whate'er is perfect, fair, and good,
We owe to thee, sweet Solitude!

IV.

In these blest shades, O still maintain
Thy peaceful, unmolested reign!
Let no disorder'd thoughts intrude
On thy repose, sweet Solitude!

V.

With thee the charm of life shall last,
Although its rosy bloom be past;
Shall still endure when time shall spread
His silver blossoms o'er my head.

VI.

No more with this vain world perplex'd,
Thou shalt prepare me for the next;
The springs of life shall gently cense,
And angels point the way to peace.

Ur. Ye tender objects of maternal love,
Ye dearest joys my widow'd heart can prove,
Come, taste the glories of the now-born day,
And grateful homage to its author pay!
Oh! ever may this animating sight
Convey instruction white it sheds delight!
Does not that sun, whose cheering beams impart
Joy's glad emotions to the pure in heart;
Does not that vivid power teach ev'ry mind
To be as warm, benevolent, and kind;
To burn with unremitted ardour still,
Like him to execute their Maker's will?
Then let us, Power Supreme! thy will adore,
Invoke thy mercies, and proclaim thy power.
Shalt thou these benefits in vain bestow?
Shall we forget the Fountain whence they flow?
Teach us through these to lift our hearts to Thee,
And in the gift the bounteous Giver see.
To view thee as thou art, all good and wise,
Nor let thy blessings hide Thee from our eyes.
From all obstructions clear our mental sight;
Pour on our souls thy beatific light!
Teach us thy wondrous goodness to revere,
With love to worship, and with rev'rence fear!
In the mild works of thy benignant hand,
As in the thunder of thy dread command.
In common objects we neglect thy power,
While wonders shine in every plant and flower.
Tell me, my first, my last, my darling care,
If you this morn have rais'd your hearts in prayer?
Say, did you rise from the sweet bed of rest,
Your God unprais'd, his holy name unblest?
Syl. Our hearts with gratitude and rev'rence fraught,
By those pure precepts you have ever taught
By your example more than precept strong,
Of prayer and praise have tuned their matin song.
El. With ever new delight we now attend
The counsels of our fond maternal friend.

Flo. See how the goodly dame, with pious art,
Makes each event a lesson to the heart!
Observe the duteous list'ners how they stand!
Improvement and delight go hand in hand.
Ur. But where's Florella?
Flo. Here's the happy she,
Whom Heaven most favour'd when it gave her then.
Ur. But who are these, in whose attractive mien.
So sweetly blended, every grace is seen?
Speak, my Florella! say the cause why here
These beauteous damsels on our plains appear?
Flo. Invited hither by Urania's fame,
To seek her friendship, to these shades they came
Straying alone at morning's earliest dawn,
I met them wand'ring on the distant lawn.
Their courteous manners soon engaged my love:
I've brought them here your sage advice to prove.
Ur. Tell me, ye gentle nymphs, the reason tell,
Which brings such guests to grace my lowly cell?
My power of serving, though indeed but small,
Such as it is, you may command it all.
Cle. Your counsel, your advice, is all we ask;
And for Urania that's no irksome task.
'Tis happiness we seek: O deign to tell
Where the coy fugitive delights to dwell!
Ur. Ah, rather say where you have sought this guest,
This lovely inmate of the virtuous breast?
Declare the various methods you've essay'd
To court and win the bright celestial maid.
But first, though harsh the task, each beauteous fair
Her rulling passion must with truth declare.
From evil habits own'd, from faults confess'd,
Alone we trace the secrets of the breast.
Eu. Bred in the regal splendours of a court,
Where pleasures, dress'd in every shape, resort,
I tried the power of pomp and costly glare,
Nor e'er found room for thought, or time for prayer:
In different follies every hour I spent;
I shunn'd reflection, yet I sought content.
My hours were shared betwixt the park and play,
And music serv'd to waste the tedious day;
Yet softest airs no more with joy I heard,
If any sweeter warbler was preferr'd;
The dance succeeded, and, succeeding, tired,
If some more graceful dancer were admired.
No sounds but flatt'ry ever sooth'd my ear:
Ungentle truths I knew not how to bear.
The anxious day induced the sleepless night,
And my vex'd spirit never knew delight.
Coy pleasure mock'd me with delusive charms;
Still the thin shadow fled my clasping arms:
Or if some actual joy I seem'd to taste,
Another's pleasures laid my blessings waste:
One truth I proved, that lurking envy hides
In every heart where vanity presides.
A fairer face would rob my soul of rest,
And fix a scorpion in my wounded breast.
Or, if my elegance of form prevail'd,
And haply her inferior graces fail'd;
Yet still some cause of wretchedness I found,
Some barbed shaft my shatter'd peace to wound.
Perhaps her gay attire exceeded mine —
When she was finer, how could I be fine?
Syl. Pardon my interruption, beauteous maid!
Can truth have prompted what you just have said?
What! can the poor pre-eminence of dress
Ease the pain'd heart, or give it happiness?
Or can you think your robes, though rich and fine,
Possess intrinsic value more than mine?
Ur. So close our nature is to vice allied,
Our very comforts are the source of pride;
And dress, so much corruption reigns within,
Is both the consequence and cause of sin.
Cle. Of happiness unfound I too complain,
Sought in a diff'rent path, but sought in vain!
I sigh'd for fame, I lunguish'd for renown,
I would be flatter'd, prais'd, admir'd, and known.
On daring wing my mounting spirit soar'd,
And science through her boundless fields explor'd:
I scorn'd the Salique laws of pedant schools,
Which chain our genius down by tasteless rules:
I long'd to burst these female bonds, which held
My sex in awe, by vanity impell'd:
To boast each various faculty of mind,
Thy graces, Pope! with Johnson's learning join'd:
Like Swift, with strongly pointed ridicule,
To brand the villain, and abash the fool:
To judge with taste, with spirit to compose,
Now mount in epic, now descend to prose;
To join, like Burke, the beauteous and sublime,
Or build, with Milton's art, " the lofty rhyme; "
Through fancy's fields I ranged; I strove to hit
Melmoth's chaste style, and Prior's easy wit:
Thy classic graces, Mason, to display,
And court the muse of elegy with Gray:
I raved of Shakspeare's flame and Dryden's rage,
And every charm of Otway's melting page.
I talk'd by rote the jargon of the schools,
Of critic laws, and Aristotle's rules;
Of passion, sentiment, and style, and grace,
And unities of action, time, and place.
The dully duties of my life forgot,
To study fiction, incident, and plot:
Howe'er the conduct of my life might err,
Still my dramatic plans were regular.
Ur. Who aims at every science soon will find
The field how vast, how limited the mind!
Cle. Abstrusor studies soon my fancy caught,
The poet in th' astronomer forgot;
The schoolmen's systems now my mind employ'd;
Their crystal spheres, their atoms and their void;
Newton and Halley all my soul inspir'd,
And numbers less than calculations fired;
Descartes and Euclid shar'd my varying breast,
And plans and problems all my soul possess'd.
Less pleased to sing inspiring Phaebus ray,
That mark the flaming comet's devious way.
The pale moon dancing on the silver stream,
And the mild lustre of her trembling beam,
No more could charm my philosophic pride,
Which sought her influence on the flowing tide.
No more ideal beauties fired my thought,
Which only facts and demonstrations sought:
Let common eyes, I said, with transport view
The earth's bright verdure, or the heaven's soft blue,
False is the pleasure, the delight is vain,
Colours exist but in the vulgar brain.
I now with Locke trode metaphysic soil,
Now chased coy nature through the tracts of Boyle:
To win the wreath of fame, by science twin'd,
More than the love of science fir'd my mind.
I seiz'd on learning's superficial part,
And title-page and index got by heart;
Some learn'd authority I still would bring
To grace my talk, and prove — the plainest thing:
This the chief transport I from science drew,
That all might know now much Cleora knew.
Not love, but wonder, I aspir'd to raise,
And miss'd affection, while I grasp'd at praise.
Pas. To me, no joys could pomp or fame impart:
Far softer thoughts possess'd my virgin heart.
No prudent parent form'd my ductile youth,
Nor led my footsteps in the paths of truth.
Left to myself to cultivate my mind,
Pernicious novels their soft entrance find:
Their pois'nous influence led my mind astray:
I sigh'd for something, what, I could not say.
I fancied virtues which were never seen,
And died for heroes who have never been:
I sicken'd with disgust at sober sense,
And loath'd the pleasures worth and truth dispense;
I scorn'd the manners of the world I saw;
My guide was fiction, and romance my law.
Distemper'd thoughts my wand'ring fancy fill,
Each wind a zephyr, and each brook a rill;
I found adventures in each common tale,
And talk'd and sigh'd to ev'ry passing gale;
Convers'd with echoes, woods, and shades, and bow'rs,
Cascades, and grottas, fields, and streams, and flow'rs,
Retirement, more than crowds, had learn'd to please;
For treach'rous leisure feeds the soft disease.
There, plastic fancy ever moulds at will
Th' obedient image with a dangerous skill;
The charming fiction, with alluring art,
Awakes the passions, and infects the heart.
A fancied heroine, an ideal wife;
I loath'd the offices of real life.
These all were dull and tame, I long'd to prove
The gen'rous ardours of unequal love,
Some marvel still my wayward heart must strike,
Or prince, or peasant, each had charms alike:
Whate'er inverted nature, custom, law
With joy I courted, and with transport saw:
In the dull walk of virtue's quiet round,
No aliment my fever'd fancy found,
Each duty to perform observant still,
But those which God and nature bade me fill.
El. O save me from the errors of deceit,
And all the dangers wealth and beauty meet.
Pas. Reason perverted, fancy on her throne,
My soul to all my sex's softness prone;
I neither spoke nor look'd as mortal aught;
To sense abandon'd, and by fully taught:
A victim to imagination's sway,
Which stole my health, and rest, and peace away:
Professions, void of meaning, I receiv'd,
And still I found them false — and still believ'd:
Imagin'd all who courted me, approv'd;
Who prais'd, esteem'd me; and who flatter'd, lov'd.
Fondly I hop'd, (now vain those hopes appear,)
Each man was faithful, and each maid sincere.
Still disappointment mock'd the ling'ring day;
Still new-born wishes led my soul astray.
When in the rolling year no joy I find,
I trust the next the next will sure be kind.
The next fallacious as the last appears,
And sends me on to still remoter years.
They come, they promise — but forget to give:
I live not, but I still intend to live.
At length, deceiv'd in all my schemes of bliss,
I join'd these three in search of happiness.
El. Is this the world of which we want a sight?
Are these the beings who are call'd polite?
Syl. If so, oh gracious Heaven! hear Sylvia's prayer:
Preserve me still in humble virtue here!
Far from such baneful pleasures may I live,
And keep, O keep me, from the taint they give!
Lau. No love of fame my torpid bosom warms,
No fancy soothes me, and no pleasure charms!
Yet still remote from happiness I stray,
No guiding star illumes my trackless way.
My mind, nor wit misleads, nor passion goads,
But the dire rust of indolence corrodes;
This eating canker, with malignant stealth,
Destroys the vital powers of moral health.
Till now, I've slept on life's tumultuous tide,
No principle of action for my guide.
From ignorance my chief misfortunes flow;
I never wish'd to learn, or car'd to know.
With ev'ry folly slow-paced time beguil'd;
In size a woman, but in soul a child.
In slothful ease my moments crept away,
And busy trifles fill'd the tedious day;
I liv'd extempore, as fancy fir'd,
As chance directed, or caprice inspir'd:
Too indolent to think, too weak to choose,
Too soft to blame, too gentle to refuse;
My character was stamp'd from those around;
The figures they, my mind the simple ground.
Fashion, with monstrous forms, the canvass stain'd,
Till nothing of my genuine self remain'd;
My pliant soul from chance receiv'd its bent,
And neither good perform'd, or evil meant.
From right to wrong, from vice to virtue thrown,
No character possessing of its own.
To shun fatigue I made my only law;
Yet ev'ry night my wasted spirits saw.
No plan e'er mark'd the duties of the day,
Which stole in tasteless apathy away:
No energy inform'd my languid mind!
No joy the idle e'er must hope to find.
Weak indecision all my actions sway'd;
The day was lost before the choice was made.
Though more to folly than to guilt inclin'd,
A drear vacuity possess'd my mind.
Too old with infant sports to be amus'd,
Unfit for converse, and to books unus'd,
The wise avoided me, they could not hear
My senseless prattle with a patient ear.
I sought retreat, but found, with strange surprise,
Retreat is pleasant only to the wise;
The crowded world by vacant minds is sought,
Because it saves th' expense and pain of thought.
Disgusted, restless, ev'ry plan amiss,
I come with these in search of happiness.
Ur. O happy they for whom, in early age,
Enlight'ning knowledge spreads her letter'd page!
Teaches each headstrong passion to control,
And pours her lib'ral lesson on the soul!
Ideas grow from books, their nat'ral food,
As aliment is chang'd to vital blood.
Though faithless fortune strip her vot'ry bare,
Though malice haunt him, and though envy tear,
Nor time, nor chance, nor want, can e'er destroy
This soul-felt solace, and this bosom joy!
Cle. We, thus united by one common fate,
Each discontented with her present state,
One common scheme pursue: resolv'd to know
If happiness can ne'er be found below.
Ur. Your candour, beauteous damsels, I approve,
Your foibles; pity, and your merits love.
But are I say the methods you must try
To gain the glorious prize for which you sigh,
Your fainting strength and spirits must be cheer'd
With a plain meal, by temperance prepar'd.
Flo. No luxury our humble board attends;
But love and concord are its smiling friends.

SONG.

I.

Hall artless Simplicity, beautiful maid,
In the genuine attractions of nature array'd;
But the rich and the proud, and the gay and the vain,
Still laugh at the graces that move in thy train.

II.

No charm in thy modest allurements they find;
The pleasures they follow a sting leave behind.
Can criminal passion enrapture the breast
Like virtue, with peace and serenity blest?

III.

O, would you Simplicity's precepts attend,
Like us, with delight at her altar you'd bend.
The pleasure she yields would with joy be embraced;
You'd practise from virtue, and love them from taste.

IV.

The linnet enchants us the bushes among:
Though, cheap the musician, yet sweet is the song;
We catch the soft warbling in air as it floats,
And with ecstasy hang on the ravishing notes.

V.

Our water is drawn from the clearest of springs,
And our food, nor disease nor satiety brings;
Our mornings are cheerful, our labours are blest,
Our ev'nings are pleasant, our nights crown'd with rest.

VI.

From our culture yon garden its ornament finds,
And we catch at the hint for improving our minds;
To live to some purpose we constantly try,
And we mark by our actions the days as they fly.

VII.

Since such are the joys that Simplicity yields,
We may well he content with our woods and our fields:
How useless to us then, ye great, were your health,
When without it we purchase both pleasure and health!