Collected Poetical Works of Mary Robinson

by Mary Robinson

  Delight her guide, and gratitude her theme!

  Till, ‘midst its sweets, the SERPENT, ENVV, grew,

  Hating her charms, and sick’ning at their view!

  Pre-eminent she shone! — Each lesser light

  Shrunk from HER radiance, in the glooms of night:

  Yet, like malignant STARS, with potent pow’r,

  Flam’d the fierce DEMONS of the vengeful hour;

  And scatter’d ‘midst the storm, their borrow’d rays,

  To prove the Surf WAS SET that bid THEM BLAZE!

  First, low complaining murmurs echo’d round,

  While pleas’d Contention caught the sullen sound;

  Then, while the mischief conjur’d up despair,

  Each thought his wrongs too infinite to bear:

  Too rash to follow REASON’S sober plan,

  They marr’d the TRIUMPH they had scarce BEGAN!

  Now, mark the howling tempest far and wide!

  Mark, on the winds, infuriate spirits ride!

  O’er the proud fabric, and the painted dome,

  Long-threat’ning shadows spread impervious gloom;

  Death stalks, unmask’d, beside the scepter’d hand,

  While round the regal chair, dark demons stand;

  With cries of murder, now the Palace shakes,

  And all is RUIN, e’er REFLECTION wakes;

  Where the rich banquet met the dazzled eye,

  A thousand sheathless poniards glitt’ring lie;

  While the loud cannon roars destruction round,

  Triumphant Mischief smiles at ev’ry sound;

  And MALICE pilfers all the sweets of rest,

  And plants the THORN OF WOE in BEAUTY’S BREAST.

  For crimes LONG PAST, when erst Oppression’s hand

  Drove weeping FREEDOM from the GALLIC land;

  When TRUTH fled, trembling, and subdu’d with fears;

  And GODLIKE VIRTUE only shone in tears;

  For woes LONG PAST, insatiate Ire decreed.

  The JUST should fall! the guiltless heart should bleed!

  THAT HEART which shudder’d at recorded crimes

  Stampt on the tablet of disastrous times!

  Which shrunk, aghast, at ev’ry dreadful view

  That shew’d past centuries, black’ning as they flew!

  When recreant SATELLITES exulting shone,

  Their tight a meteor, and their sphere the throne!

  Was it for THOSE, the last illustrious race

  Wash’d, with their blood, the page of dire disgrace

  Was it for THOSE, an ALIEN’S heart was torn

  With taunting Insult’s agonizing thorn!

  While low she bow’d, in with’ring graces drest,

  TRUTH in her eye, and VALOUR in her breast!

  Was it for THOSE ill-fated Louis fell,

  ‘Midst the vile clamours of the rabble’s yell?

  Forc’d from his shrieking infants! and deny’d

  A parent’s comfort, and a parent’s pride!

  Dragg’d to the fatal agonizing goal;

  His only crime — the MEEKNESS OF HIS SOUL!

  For, ah! while mem’ry ponders o’er the page,

  That marks the regal line from age to age,

  Distracted GALLIA! thou shalt NEVER see

  So rare a SCION from so frail a tree!

  Mark the LAST scene of his disastrous state,

  When patient VIRTUE brav’d the lance of FATE!

  When, on the scaffold, crimson’d o’er with blood,

  The Monarch! Husband! Parent! Martyr! flood

  Amidst his subjects, ‘midst his foes severe;

  No pitying friend his parting sigh to hear!

  E’en then, high tow’ring o’er all human woes,

  Above HIMSELF, the smiling VICTIM rose!

  And, braving human sorrow’s vengeful rod,

  Breath’d his LAST pray’r, and gave his SOUL TO GOD!

  Thus the proud EAGLE, whose strong pinions soar,

  With dauntless eye, day’s sov’reign to explore;

  Sees all around transcendent glory blaze;

  The WORLD beneath, an ATOM to his gaze!

  Yet through the airy regions grandly flies,

  And drinks the viewless nectar of the skies:

  In the bland space he wields his lordly flight,

  And riots in the plenitude of light!

  Till thick’ning vapours choke the fost’ring stream,

  Veil the faint stars, and shroud the orient beam!

  Swift to the world beneath, his pinions sail,

  Where the tall cliff hangs low’ring o’er the vale;

  Where, rock’d upon the forest’s waving crest,

  He left his offspring in their mother’s breast.

  THERE, too, he finds the ruthless tempest’s pow’r,

  The blue-wing’d lightning, and the whelming show’r!

  THERE, the shrill blast, the rifted PINE lays low,

  While down the rocks the mingling cataracts flow;

  His darling MATE, his little unfledg’d BROOD,

  Dash’d on the foamy bosom of the flood!

  Loud thunders mock th’ aerial SOV’REIGN’S cries,

  Till, ‘midst the dreadful din, he soars, AND DIES!

  Yet, ere the MUSE her mournful task resigns,

  And the last CYPRESS GARLAND fondly twines;

  Ere the faint emblems of her grief sincere,

  Shall fade beneath Reflexion’s frequent tear

  She turns, with curious eye, the woes to trace,

  Heap’d on the BREATHING SUFF’RERS of thy race;

  Who, daily pining in a dungeon’s gloom,

  Anticipate the silence of the tomb!

  Who, all the live-long day, unseen, alone,

  Pour the deep cadence of the tort’ring groan;

  Start, if the winds along their prison creep;

  Slumber to dream of DEATH, and wake to WEEP!

  Who, each new dawn, behold a glimm’ring ray

  Shed through their drear abode, a DOUBTFUL day;

  And when the evening SUN, with purpling light,

  Proclaims the coming shade of fearful night;

  Behold, with FANCY’S all-creating eyes,

  The bleeding SPECTRES of their KINDRED rise!

  Mark, from each bosom gash’d, a crimson tide,

  Life’s tepid fountain from its channels glide!

  The WIDOW’D MOTHER casts a wistful gaze

  On the sweet darlings of her splendid days;

  On her PALE CHEEK the frozen TEAR still dwells,

  Like APRIL DEW upon the SNOW-DROP’S bells!

  Her quiv’ring lips, in murmurs, seem to say,

  “I COME, my CHERUBS, from the realms of day!

  “Thy father triumphs in the spheres of REST,

  “And shares the endless transports of the BLEST!

  “There, far remov’d from Fate’s disastrous frown,

  “HE LIVES, possess’d of an IMMORTAL CROWN!”

  Then, as the feeble infants wond’ring stand,

  The fleeting SPECTRE waves its snowy hand!

  The paly lamps, that feebly gild the gloom,

  A fainting gleam of blueish light assume:

  The moaning wind through ev’ry crevice blows;

  Down the damp wall the midnight vapour flows;

  On their cold flinty couch, with tearful eye,

  Clasp’d in each other’s arms, the mourners lie;

  They tremble, whisper, sigh, yet fear to weep,

  Till NATURE, faint with anguish, SINKS IN SLEEP!

  See, in a neighb’ring CELL, a with’ring form

  Lists the fierce bowlings of the midnight storm;

  Till, through her prison lattice, she descries

  The op’ning radiance of the morning skies!

  Upon the iron window’s triple grate,

  The chirping RED-BREAST hails his freezing mate;

  Spreads his weak wing, to meet the SUN’S faint ray,


  And sweetly twitters forth his matin lay:

  While the FAIR VICTIM of supreme despair

  Beholds the free-born commoners of air;

  Envies their happy lot, and feebly cries,

  Ye little harmless travelers of the skies,

  Why quit your leafy bow’rs, your verdant plains,

  And wing your flight to Mis’ry’s dread domains?

  Why, from the breezy hill’s enamell’d side,

  To these sad TOW’RS your whirring pinions guide?

  Hence, ye poor minstrels! hence, nor listen here!

  Where pining sorrow drinks her frequent tear;;

  Where vengeance bares, her never-weary fang,

  And smiles, insulting, on the suff’rer’s pang;

  Where each corroding torment mocks relief,

  And DEATH, DEATH ONLY, ends the REIGN OF GRIEF!

  Is there, in all the legends of past times.

  An æra, blacken’d with such wanton crimes?

  Such barb’rous MISCHIEFS! sweeping from the earth

  Religion, talents, innocence, and worth!

  Nor, o’er the high-born BASE, ALONE it low’rs;

  O’er ALL it spreads its agonizing pow’rs!

  The wise, the good, the brave — all feel its force!

  Uncheck’d by reason, torpid to remorse.

  All smear’d with CORE, pale LIBERTY appears,

  Her smiles contending with repentant tears;

  No more her hand fair flow’rets scatters round;

  Her faulchion steams from many a recent wound:

  O’er shatter’d pyramids, the madd’ning flies,

  Pow’r in her arm, and murder in her eyes;

  Scar’d by the clamours of the furious rage,

  She spares not worth, nor genius, sex, nor age!

  All records perish by her rash decree!

  The wreaths of VALOUR; pride of CHIVALRY;

  The SCULPTOR’S art, the boast of many a clime,

  (Snatch’d from the desolating grasp of Time);

  The PAINTER’S glowing canvass, which displays

  The finish’d study of laborious days —

  Heap’d in one sacrilegious ruin lie,

  Feeding the flame that menaces the sky!

  While IGNORANCE points the vi&ims of its ire,

  And loads with offerings, the insatiate fire!

  Deep dying murmurs float upon the gale,

  And ev’ry zephyr bears some woe-fraught tale!

  Here, WIDOWS pine, not daring to complain;

  There, ORPHANS languish for a PARENT slain!

  The mountain PEASANT quits his lone retreat,

  His clay-built COTTAGE, and his vineyard neat!

  No MORE, at EVE’S approach, his INFANTS run,

  While the vale reddens with the sinking sun,

  To greet their weary SIRE, whose labours hard,

  Meet, in their dear embrace, their sweet reward!

  No MORE, when WINTER desolates the grove,

  He listens to the voice of wedded love;

  Trims the clay hearth, and, as the faggots blaze,

  Chaunts the old ditty of his grandsire’s days;

  While his fond mate the homely meal prepares,

  Smiles on his board, and dissipates his cares!

  No MORE, amidst the simple village throng,

  He joins the sportive dance, the merry song!

  Now, torn from THOSE, he quits his native wood,

  Braves the dread front of WAR, and pants for blood!

  Now, to his REAP-HOOK, and his pastoral reed,

  The crimson’d PIKE and glitt’ring SWORD succeed!

  His russet garb, now chang’d for trappings vain;

  His rushy pillow, for the tented plain!

  No MORE his matin song’s melodious note

  Along the mountain’s breezy side shall float!

  No MORE his board, with luscious FRUITS supply’d,

  Shall mock the banquet, of luxurious pride!

  No MORE sweet slumbers bless his midnight hours!

  No MORE. HOPE strews his daily path with flow’rs!

  From his lorn breast all earthly comforts fly;

  He hates to LIVE — yet MORE, he FEARS to DIE!

  Now, when the tardy day begins to rise.

  And short-liv’d slumbers quit his fev’rish eyes.

  FANCY, with agonizing pow’r, displays

  The peaceful comforts of his HAPPIER DAYS!

  Shows, on the PALLET of his former rest,

  His INFANTS moaning on their MOTHER’S breast;

  Pinch’d by pale FAMINE, sinking to the grave;

  No FOOD to nourish, and no FRIEND to save!

  Ah! then he cries, half madd’ning with despair,

  “Is THIS THE FREEDOM I Was CALL’D TO SHARE?

  “Where is my clay-built HUT? where, wont foreign

  “The little monarch of LOVE’S FREE DOMAIN? }

  “My smiling PARTNER clasp’d me to her breast,

  “My INFANTS bless’d me, ere! SUNK TO REST !”

  Turn to the NOBLES! THERE let PITY view

  THE MANY suff’ring for the GUILTY FEW!

  Perish the wretch, who, sanction’d by his birth,

  Presumes to persecute the child of worth!

  Perish the wretch who tarnishes descent

  By the vile vaunting of a life ill spent!

  Who sullies proud propinquity of blood,

  Yet frowns indignant on the LOW-BORN GOOD!

  Who shields his recreant bosom with a NAME;

  And, FIRST in INFAMY, is LAST in FAME!

  YET let REFLECTION’S eye discriminate

  The difference ‘twixt the MIGHTY and the GREAT!

  VIRTUE is still ILLUSTRIOUS, still sublime,

  In EV’RY station, and in EV’RY clime!

  TRUTH can derive no eminence from birth,

  Rich in the proud supremacy of WORTH;

  Its blest dominion vast and unconfin’d,.

  Its CROWN ETERNAL, and its THRONE THE MIND!

  THEN, HEAV’N FORBID, that PREJUDICE should scan,

  With jaundic’d eye, the dignities of man!

  That Persecution’s agonizing rod

  Should boldly smite THE “NOBLEST WORK OF GOD!”

  That RANK should be a CRIME, and GENIUS hurl’d

  A mournful wand’rer on the pitying world!

  YET, HEAV’N FORBID, that IGNORANCE should rise

  On the dread basis where RELIGION dies!

  That LIBERTY, immortal as the spheres,

  Should steep her LAUREL in a nation’s TEARS!

  Oh, falsely nam’d! Does LIBERTY require

  The CHILD should perish for the guilty SIRE?

  Does LIBERTY inspire the ATHEIST’S breast,

  To mock his GOD, and make his LAWS A JEST?

  Does LIBERTY with barbarous fetters bind

  HER FIRST-BORN HOPE, THE FREEDOM OF THE MIND?

  HENCE BOLD USURPER of that HEAV’N-TAUGHT POW’R,

  Which wings with ecstacy, MAN’S transient hour!

  Which bids the eye of REASON cloudless shine,

  And gives MORTALITY A CHARM DIVINE!

  ‘Midst the wild winds, the lordly CEDAR tow’rs;

  Progressive days invigorate its pow’rs;

  The earlier branches, with’ring as they spread.

  Round the firm root their coarsest foliage shed;

  While the proud TREE its verdant head rears high,

  Waves to the blast, and seems to pierce the sky;

  Till the rich TRUNK, matur’d by length’ning years,

  Through all their wond’rous changes, braves the spheres;

  Flings its rich fragrance on the gales that sweep

  The humid forehead of the mountain’s steep;

  Mocks the fierce rage of elemental war,

  The BOLT’S red sulphur, and the THUNDER’S jar;

  And, when around the shatter’d fragments lie,

  The stricken victims of th’ in
furiate sky —

  Amidst the wrecks of NATURE seems to climb

  SUPREMELY GRAND, and AWFULLY SUBLIME!

  So Heav’n-taught REASON, whisp’ring to the sense.

  In NATURE’S pure persuasive eloquence;

  Points out, amidst Creation’s mazy plan,

  The vast, the varying mis’ries of MAN:

  Then, as EXPERIENCE comes with piercing eye,

  From his stern gaze delusive visions fly;

  Then radiant KNOWLEDGE rushes to his view,

  Spurns the DECEPTIVE, and adopts the TRUE;

  Tears Folly’s tinsel trappings from his breast,

  Which shines in TRUTH’S invulnerable vest!

  Thus arm’d against the SHAFTS of life he goes,

  Smiles at their menace, and resists their woes;

  While on his mind, in conscious VIRTUE GREAT,

  The SHIELD of REASON blunts the LANCE OF FATE!

  Immortal GENIUS! let the votive line,

  The MUSES LAUREL, and her FAME, be THINE!

  For THOU shalt LIVE, when PRIDE’S indignant eye,

  Clos’d in eternal solitude, shall lie!

  When THOSE, who flutter’d through their little day,

  Shall, like their FOLLIES and their NAMES, decay;

  When the faint mem’ry of INFERIOR souls;

  Down the dark channel of OBLIVION rolls —

  THOU SHALT SURVIVE! Then let not ENVV’S frown

  Blast the proud TROPHIES that compose THY CROWN!

  Let not the poison of a REPTILE’S sting

  Contaminate the lustre of THY wing!

  But from each flaming plume indulgent give

  A pitying ray, to bid the INSECTS LIVE.

  Trace, IF THOU CANST, one straggling spark of worth

  One gleaming ATOM to adorn their birth;

  For little virtues dazzle in the proud,

  As STARS shine lustrous ‘midst a vast of CLOUD!

  Then, GENIUS, let the toilsome task be THINE,

  To LABOUR in the dark precarious MINE;

  And if, amidst the chaos thou shouldst find

  One great, one beauteous attribute of mind,.

  To twine round MERIT’S brow the wreath of FAME,

  And give Nobility A LOFTIER NAME!

  ILL-FATED QUEEN! then let the tribute just,

  The POET’S NUMBERS, consecrate THY dust!

  Sappho and Phaon

  CONTENTS

  PREFACE.

  Account of Sappho.

  I. Introductory.

  II. The temple of Chastity.

  III. The Bower of Pleasure.

  IV. Sappho discovers her Passion.

  V. Contemns its Power.

  VI. Describes the characteristics of Love.

  VII. Invokes Reason.

  VIII. Her Passion increases.

  IX. Laments the volatility of Phaon.