A place there is, where the cerulean main
Glides up 'twixt rocks, and forms an azure plain;
There, there I stood, astonished to survey
The roaring billows on the watery way;
How liquid mountains dash against the shore,
The rough rocks rumble, hoarse the billows roar:
I stretch'd my limbs along the murmuring deep,
And the hoarse billows lull my soul asleep.
His toils, his woes, the hill-born hero sung,
While from their seats the attentive audience hung.
His woes, his toils, as yet they seem to hear;
As yet his accents hang upon the ear,
Though ceased. Swift from his seat Alcanor rose,
Down to his heel the sable mantle flows;
His aged limbs shook with the weight of years,
His fading eyes distil the briny tears:
O valiant youth! your face, the age rejoined,
mind;
Recalls my hopeless son unto my
The same his features, and his shape the same,
Thus death untimely wrapt the youthful frame.
Ah me! my son, you treason's victim lay,
While at your side thy consort's charms decay;
While with thy child a matron servant fled;
And friends enquiring thought your memory dead.
But thou, dear object of my aged care,
Whom Heaven designed the sad Alcanor's heir,
By more than mortal led-thee, thee I own,
My joy, my hope, my reviviscent son!
Be still, fond heart! no more Alcanor grieves,
Since in my godlike youth my Allan lives.
The Senior said; and clasped the hero round :
His reverend sire the valiant grandson owned.
Tears flow on tears, and sigh succeeds on sigh,
And either soul melts with the sudden joy;
Swell on the air congratulations round,
And mighty titles round the Hunter sound.
Now, envy fled, the ancient peerage own,
And greatness flashes from the mean unknown.
Thus in the quarry, rough in every part,
The moss-grown marble, till reformed by art,
Unvalued lies, till forming hammers groan,
The halls of greatness shine with Parian stone.
Thus shone the chief amidst the bevied great,
Brighter his fame shone on the arms of state;
With joyful shouts the palace thundered round,
And repercussive walls repel the sound.
Thus lost in distance empty thunders roar,
Or foaming billows lash the sounding shore;
Heard by the midnight travellers as they roam,
And swells the murmur on the silent gloom.
The fair Egidia, as she sat alone,
And silent breathed her sighs in plaintive moan,
Felt noisy shouts invade the trembling ear,
Starts from the dream of thought, and looks with fear.
Surprise is painted in her blooming mien,
And care succeeds the soft enamoured pain:
Ah! hapless me! the trembling virgin cries,
The tear half dropping from her azure eyes,
The warrior youth, all by the great envied,
Falls now perhaps a victim to their pride;
O'erpowered, for such of late assailed the ear,
From fields of death, and iron noise of war.
Ophelia there? Come, maid! What means that noise?
The hill-born youth departs, the peers rejoice:
My queen! the maid replies; the bowl is crowned,
And with the hero's health the vaulted halls resound.
A sudden stupor every sense pervades,
Upon her cheek the roseate tincture fades;
In dumb surprise her soul astonished swims;
The downy bed supports her falling limbs :
A sudden qualm of sorrow and surprise
Bound up the tongue,
The wakening soul resumes the seat again,
and blocked the gates of voice:
She ceaseless rolls in agonizing pain;
Tossed round her limbs, and furious with despair,
She beat her breast, and tore her golden hair.
Surprise is o'er; the tears begin to flow;
And words expressive of the mighty woe:
Egidia lives! and what she prized is fled!
Come, death! and waft the hapless to the dead.
Come lop this virgin flower, my sable spouse,
And quench the flood-gates of these rushing woes.
Sooth, sooth, O gentle! all my troubled breast;
Within thy arms at last my soul shall rest!
Birth, grandeur, state, farewell, ye empty toys,
Ye curse of life, obstructions of my joys!
O should a shepherdess upon the plain
Bear me, a daughter, to some humble swain ;
Not nursed to grandeur, unconfined to state,
The stately youth might love his rural mate!
Clasped in Love's arms, in some low hut reclined,
I'd pour upon his breast my love-sick mind;
With thee, my swain, would bear the wintry cold,
With thee would guard the cattle to the fold;
Through Poverty's cold stream with thee would gain,
And lean-cheek'd Want might puff his blast in vain;
With thee, with thee would tempt the rugged heath;
With thee would live, with thee would sink in death.
O bear me, bear me, Fortune, to some grove,
Where your transfixer, harts! and mine may rove.
Touched with my care, my tyrant may prove kind,
Nor let that form conceal an iron mind.
I seem, I seem through lonely fields to stray,
Love wings my feet, and Love directs the way;
I see, I see my lovely Hunter come,
In pride of years, and beauty's fairest bloom.
See, see, the suppliant seems to own my charms!
I rush, I rush into his manly arms.
But why, enthusiast! does thy fancy stray?
Grandeur forbids, and birth besets the way.
See! Greatness chides me with a frowning face;
For shame, for shame, desire a clown's embrace!
Let opening earth the blushing maid receive,
Avail from Calumny the spotless grave.
But, Calumny, can you my case remove ?
Too weak a combatant for mighty Love-
Love, mighty Love, I am thy victim whole!
Love holds the reins, and actuates my soul.
But ah! perhaps a maid of happier charms
Attracts the traveller to her lovely arms.
In vain, Egidia, melts thy tearful eyes,
Thy rival shall enfold thy envied prize.
Blow, Boreas, blow the rough cerulean main,
And from her arms the lovely youth detain.
Time, time may wear her image from his mind,
And chance may make the hill-born hero kind.
In vain, in vain I sooth my glowing care,
In vain elude thy venomed pangs, Despair!
Even now, perhaps, the seamen ply the oar,
And waft my soul into the farther shore.
The lovely maid upon the bed reclined,
Thus mournful tortured all her virgin mind.
Obsequious maids, around the love-sick fair,
Fetch sigh for sigh, and tear distil with tear.
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