Enthusiasm, Part the First

Beyond th' exalted sun's meridian site, Beyond the glimm'ring stars ethereal height, A brighter realm immortal spring displays, Mid the soft breathing of unclouded days: Where sacred minds to virtue high allied, Aerial beings, orient forms abide, Seraphic people! ministers of grace, Prompt to defend and cheer the human race: The mighty mother earth who bears mankind, Is to their care and guardian pow'r consign'd. When clashing waves swell high, and angry Fate Tosses the lab'ring vessel of the state, The chosen Angel of th' appointed realm Hastes from his throne, and grasps the trembling helm: To some the honor'd privilege is giv'n To waft the clay-divested soul to heav'n, Weed from the feeling heart the rising sigh, And sweep with viewless hand the clouded eye: Each in his turn descending from above, Performs the generous ministry of love.

BEHOLD superior to the sun-rob'd quire A female form to regal pow'r aspire! High on a throne, in brighter beams array'd, Reigns in full pomp th' enthusiastic Maid! Daughter of Energy, who boldly leads The hallow'd few to great and splendid deeds: Who urges man the steep ascent to climb. And lifts the soul to virtue's height sublime. Thus when of late to fam'd Iberia's coast Sail'd o'er the wond'ring main th' unnumber'd host, Swift from her seat th' impatient Goddess sprung, And o'er the spot with anxious bosom hung, Till shedding on her sons, to fame consign'd, Some emanation of her dauntless mind, She saw the valiant long-enduring band (Whose fall confederated nations plann'd) Achieve that deed which time shall still revere, That British miracle to glory dear!

LONG had th' Enthusiast held her rank supreme, Belov'd, ador'd, of every voice the theme; At length the blast of satire dimm'd the rays, Whose soft effulgence play'd around her praise: The throne encircling frequent murmurs flew, And busy charges trimm'd in motley hue: Yet then confiding in her god-like plan, Which warms, invigorates, and hallows man, She dares her foes, she dares the hostile train To shake the pillars of her stedfast reign: Urg'd by her innate energy to meet The gath'ring war, she quits her lofty seat, At Reason's bar presents her holy form, Provokes the thund'rers, and demands the storm.

A living crescent the bright pow'rs display, Rank above rank in terrible array: While trembling silence breathes upon the train, And expectation throbs in ev'ry vein, Amid this scene th' accusing Angel rose, On his stern brow bold indignation glows; Some troubling vision, with disaster fraught, Employs, detains, alarms his wond'ring thought: —"What rising structure rushes on my sight, Of bulk enormous, of aspiring height? Th' Enthusiast, hast'ning thro' the regal porch, Waves in the eye of day a raging torch: See (impious spectacle!) she fires the pile, And hails the sparkles with a greedy smile: Wide and more wide th' imparted flame extends, And now in dreadful victory ascends. Not sumptuous palaces, not awful fanes, Nor of old time the proud, august remains, Not airy villas, nor majestic tow'rs, High massive bulwarks, nor gay pleasure's bow'rs, But to th' unhallowed blaze I see consign'd The splendid temple of the poet's mind. Ah! lov'd TYRTAEUS, tow'ring son of fame, Thy pages shrivel at th' insatiate flame: The glorious workings of thy pregnant heart, The sallies from the inmost breast that start, Eloquent threats that lawless pow'r controul, Thy bursts of rage, and vehemence of soul. Unrivall'd leader of th' ecstatic train, Farewell (for ever lost) thy forceful strain: Farewell (for ever lost) the Spartan song, Which rouz'd to conquest the dejected throng: Did not despondence, like a gath'ring show'r, Hang o'er thy countrymen in evil hour? Say, did she not her fenny pinions spread, And on each bosom chilling fear-drops shed? Thou like the sun a cheerful radiance threw, And from the soil the noxious vapour drew, Till the fall'n soul uprising from her death, Inhales once more th' invigorating breath. Thy voice—'Tis honor's call on virtue's train: Thy voice—Yes, Sparta hears th' inspiring strain; To that vindictive with bold step she speeds, And reaps the harvest of immortal deeds.

UNRIVALL'D leader of th' ecstatic quire, Peace to the manes of thy war-bred lyre, If peace can be while with licentious pow'r The hungry fires thy last remains devour: Methinks thy lucid, unsubstantial frame, Now hovers o'er the wide destructive flame, I see thee toss thine airy arms on high, I hear at times thy shrill, despairing cry: So the fond mother-bird, alarm'd, distrest, Indignant flutters round her peopled nest, While (piteous sight!) a ruthless hand invades, And bears away the music of the shades.

SEE to the dome (thro' many an age rever'd) The star-illumin'd dome which science rear'd, The fiery deluge rolls with threat'ning roar, And sweeps away the long-collected store: Alluring apologues address'd to youth, Pure maxims moulded in the breast of truth, Which from the holy lips of sages breath'd, Rich moral legacies to man bequeath'd: Celestial thoughts, which (like the fav'ring gales Whose gentle pressure swells the gladsome sails) Waft the dejected mind, with toil o'erspent, To the gay-winding harbor of content.

NOW History with a heart-felt sigh surveys Her themes, her annals, midst the sounding blaze: Fame smiles no more, but with an alter'd mien, Stands trembling at destruction's growing scene: And now methinks she views thro' fancy's eye, Her burnish'd battlements that kiss'd the sky: Her glitt'ring pinnacles, her golden tow'rs, That vaunting dar'd old Time's devasting pow'rs: Ascending obelisks that point to heav'n, Triumphal arches to the conq'ror giv'n: She views these honors of her gorgeous state Dismantled, torn, and bending to their fate; Ah, now they yield, they fall with deaf'ning sound, And in tumultuous havoc spread around! At length, descending like a low-hung cloud, Oblivion o'er the waste expands her shroud, Beneath whose dark'ning canopy is cast The fond remembrance of transactions past: Of youthful warriors, who, by glory led, Bold in the clam'rous van of danger bled, Who, midst the storms of state and home-born wars, Gleam'd thro' the thick'ning shade like morning stars, Till flung untimely from their radiant height, Down, down they hurried to eternal night: Of patriots, who, to honor close allied, In times disastrous stood their country's pride! How these sublime state-columns, tempest-proof, Upheld, midst bursting clouds, the sacred roof, Firm to their cause, and obstinately great, No voice of mortal ever shall relate: Nor shall the voice of mortal e'er display, Or annals usher to the eye of day, The various orders of the female train Diffus'd like flow'rets o'er the smiling plain, Who, like those flow'rets in their beauty's glow, Were harshly mangled by the scythe of woe.

HERE then, to keen reflection's crowded eye, As in a deep sepulchral mansion lie, In iron slumber wrapt and dread repose, A train of human virtues, human woes: This moral loss the world must now sustain, Swells o'er the boundary of domestic pain, Calls down the gushes of the bleeding mind, And claims th' expansive sorrow of mankind."

HE ceas'd.—A Seraph, to his cause allied. And firm to battle on th' accusing side, Resum'd the theme! his arm exalted high, A wild fire flashing from his pregnant eye— "What numerous fugitives arrest my view, Their cheek discolour'd with dejection's hue? What ruthless pow'r the wanton act decreed? What led the monarch to this desp'rate deed? Behold—th' Enthusiast at the regal chair Breathes her inflaming whispers on his ear: Now, now she urges his reluctant hand To ratify the terrible command: O hapless, lost, exterminated race, What can atone this unprovok'd disgrace? Ye venerable men with silver hair, Gall'd by the heavy yoke of thornful care, With dauntless soul, enshrin'd in feeble forms, Ye meet the thunders of the rushing storms, Prompt a bold war for virtue's sake to wage Against the comforts of reposing age: Friends, honors, kindred, country ye disclaim, The smiles of patronage, the wreaths of fame, Firm to endure the persecuting rod, And in th' abyss of grief to seek your God. Ye too, ye fair, on virtue's list enroll'd, Whom Nature fashion'd in her softer mould, In pale adversity's rude science vers'd, Your feeling soul with sorrow's dart transpierc'd, I see you slowly move a length'ning train, Far from the bounds of your domestic plain: Imagination renovates the hour Ye fell the victims of relentless pow'r, How still ye linger'd on your native strand, Enclos'd by friendship's small but ardent band, How as ye wept, caressing and caress'd, Your babes were ravish'd from your throbbing breast.

BUT now, intruding on my wond'ring sight, My strong abhorrence other scenes excite. Beneath the roof, where Death's chill banners spread, An agonizing fair reclines her head: Around the mournful couch of languor stand (In hallow'd vestment) a monastic band! Yet not to act affection's sacred part, With lenient hand to draw the rankling dart, Thro' hope's gay perspective command to rise A soothing prospect of the opening skies; Ah! not for heav'nly charity's best end The gloomy fathers o'er the suff'rer bend, But from th' alarm'd reluctant mind to wrest The coy assentment to the hateful Test.

AT this the mourner lifts her drooping head— 'While here I languish on affliction's bed, Say, is it thus ye minister relief, And whisper comfort to the soul of grief? Disgrac'd, accurs'd with hearts untaught to feel, O iron progeny of barb'rous zeal! When harrass'd nature with herself at strife, The last gleam fading on the lamp of life, When to the storm succeeds the welcome calm, When angel hands reach out the victor's palm, Must I that bliss, that heav'nly prize forego, And whelm my spirit in immortal woe? Yet then my infants, by pale Famine led, Must ask from Pity's hand the scanty bread; Methinks I see them now expos'd to scorn, Their little bosoms pierc'd with sorrow's thorn: O what an image to a mother's sight, The view transports me into madd'ning fright; I yield, I yield, unfold the fatal creed, And Mercy from his thought efface the deed!'

AT these dread words, that clos'd th' eventful scene, Religion blush'd and veil'd her awful mien: Yet on the crime, from tyrant edicts born, By nature from the dying mother torn, Wrung from the bosom, by distraction riv'n, Forgiveness dropt the holy tear of Heav'n.

NOW to my view, by terrors undismay'd, The glory of the priesthood stands display'd! The virtuous Pastor of the suff'ring race, Proud of his wrongs and patient of disgrace: Him the unhappy fugitives enclose, While thus he speaks—'Ye partners of my woes, O Strenuous found in persecution's day, Ye faithful, dear companions of my way, I now behold you as the snow-wing'd dove, Expell'd the ancient mansions of her love, Whose plumes, while clouds o'ercanopy her flight, Assume the splendor of a purer white. Here pause—and, while we view th' expanding main, Salute the breeze that flies to freedom's plain; Across the waves ere yet our course we steer. One duteous moment let us linger here, And, tho' rejected, (still to nature true) Sigh to our parent-land the fond adieu: Ah! far from us remove that breast of steel, Whose rooted principle is not to feel, Which, like the sapless oak's time-moulder'd form, Nor heeds the vernal air or wintry storm. On man bestow'd, and to the brute denied, The tear of nature sure is nature's pride. Ev'n He, the general victim of mankind, Who each disgrace, each torture predesign'd, Ev'n He, when grief and agony drew near, Felt on his cheek the self-compassion'd tear. Does not dim obloquy attaint our birth? Are not our temples levell'd with the earth? Are not our kindred, friends in fetters bound, Plung'd in the terrors of the cavern'd ground? And we, meek victims, as we pass'd along, Endur'd we not the loud upbraiding throng. While the loose soldiery added to these woes With jeering insults and degrading blows? It seem'd as nature mark'd us for disgrace, The outcast offals of the human race. O thou, by all these horrors unappall'd, Whom with delight I royal master call'd, Thou to remembrance now no longer dear, Whom as the scourge of Heav'n I still revere, Farewell!—Thou too, by partial fortune blest, All Nature's off'rings breathing at thy breast, Thrice happy FRANCE, farewell!—these eyes no more Shall view thy charms that spread from shore to shore: Thy harvests waving with a stately pride, Thy vintage blushing on the mountain's side. Original and self-exuberant soil, Refusing nothing to the hand of toil, And where the Arts, a bright harmonious band, Refine, exalt, and decorate the land, Where Mirth, the native of thy social bow'rs, Sheds on each lip his fascinating pow'rs; With thee may bliss still undiminish'd dwell, Hail, O my country, and a last farewell!'

THE Pastor ceas'd.—Then sorrow burst its bound, With fervent lips some kiss'd their parent-ground, Some with the same tormenting thought imprest Tore the wild grass and flow'rets from her breast, To bear a relic of their natal plain To scenes unknown, and realms beyond the main. So firm, so pow'rful on the heart of man (Above inconstancy's relenting plan) Is fix'd, enthron'd by Nature's hallow'd hand, The glowing passion of his native land.

THESE are the evils (woe succeeding woe) Which from th' Enthusiast in long order flow: Yet not for these does terror daunt her soul, Mark that proud eye impatient of controul, See riding on that brow imperial will, And tyranny the minister of ill. Let then resentment fierce, terrific, loud, Burst like the thunder from the rifted cloud: The course of her devasting steps I've run; My journey's o'er, the mournful tale is done."