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ΤΟ

HIS SERENE HIGHNESS

THE DUKE OF MONTPENSIER,

ON HIS

Portrait of the Lady Adelaide F=rb=s.

Donington Park, 1802.

To catch the thought, by painting's spell,
Howe'er remote, howe'er refin'd,
And o'er the magic tablet tell

The silent story of the mind;
O'er nature's form to glance the eye,
And fix, by mimic light and shade,
Her morning tinges, ere they fly,

Her evening blushes, ere they fade!
These are the pencil's grandest theme,
Divinest of the powers divine
That light the Muse's flowery dream,

And these, oh Prince! are richly thine!

Yet, yet, when Friendship sees thee trace,
In emanating soul exprest,

The sweet memorial of a face

On which her eye delights to rest;

While o'er the lovely look serene,

The smile of peace, the bloom of youth,
The cheek, that blushes to be seen,

The eye, that tells the bosom's truth;
While o'er each line, so brightly true,
Her soul with fond attention roves,
Blessing the hand, whose various hue
Could imitate the form it loves;

She feels the value of thy art,
And owns it with a purer zeal,
A rapture, nearer to her heart

Than critic taste can ever feel!

THE

PHILOSOPHER ARISTIPPUS.*

ΤΟ

A Lamp which was given him by Lals.

DULCIS CONSCIA LECTULI LUCERNA.
Martial, Lib. xiv. Epig 39.

“Он! love the Lamp" (my Mistress said),
"The faithful Lamp that, many a night,

"Beside thy Lais' lonely bed

"Has kept its little watch of light!

"Full often has it seen her weep,

"And fix her eye upon its flame,

It was not very difficult to become a philosopher amongst the ancients. A moderate store of learning, with a considerable portion of confidence, and wit enough to produce an occasional apophthegm, were all the necessary qualifications for the purpose. The principles of moral science were so very imperfectly understood that the founder of a new sect, in forming his ethical code, might consult either fancy or temperament, and adapt it to his own passions and propensities; so that Mahomet, with a little more learning, might have flourished as a philosopher in those days, and would have required but the polish of the schools to become the rival of Aristippus in morality. In the science of nature too, though they discovered some valuable truths, yet they seemed not to know they were truths, or at least were as well satisfied with errors; and Xenophanes, who asserted that the stars were igneous clouds, lighted up every night and extinguished again in the morning, was thought and styled a philosopher, as generally as he who anticipated Newton in developing the arrangement of the universe.

For this opinion of Xenophanes, see Plutarch de Placit. Philosoph. Lib. ii. Cap. 13. It is impossible to read this treatise of Plutarch, without alternately admiring the genius, and smiling at the absurdities of the philosophers.

"Till, weary, she has sunk to sleep,
"Repeating her beloved's name!

"Oft has it known her cheek to burn
"With recollections, fondly free,
"And seen her turn, impassion'd turn
"To kiss the pillow, love! for thee,
"And, in a murmur, wish thee there,
"That kiss to feel, that thought to share!
"Then love the Lamp - 'twill often lead
"Thy step through learning's sacred way;
"And, lighted by its happy ray,

"Whene'er those darling eyes shall read

"Of things sublime, of nature's birth, "Of all that's bright in heaven or earth, Oh! think that she, by whom 'twas given, "Adores thee more than earth or heaven!"

Yes

dearest Lamp! by every charm
On which thy midnight beam has hung;
The neck reclin'd, the graceful arm
Across the brow of ivory flung;

The heaving bosom, partly hid,
The sever'd lip's delicious sighs,
The fringe, that from the snowy lid
Along the cheek of roses lies:

By these, by all that bloom untold,
And long as all shall charm my heart,

I'll love my little Lamp of gold,

My Lamp and I shall never part!

And often, as she smiling said,

In fancy's hour, thy gentle rays
Shall guide my visionary tread

Through poesy's enchanting maze!

Thy flame shall light the page refin'd,
Where still we catch the Chian's breath,

1

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1 The ancients had their lucernae cubiculariae or bedchamber lamps, which as the Emperor Galienus said "nil cras meminere; and, with the same commendation of secrecy, Praxagora addresses her lamp in Aristophanes, Ezzλys. We may judge how fanciful they were, in the use and embellishment of their lamps, from the famous symbolic Lucerna, which we find in the Romanum Museum Mich. Ang. Causei, p. 127.

2 Hesiod, who tells us in melancholy terms of his father's flight to the wretched village of Ascra. Εργ. και Ημερ. v. 251.

3 Εννυχια στειχον, περικαλλεα όσσαν ιείσαι. Theog. v. 10.

4 Και μοι σκηπτρον εδον, δαφνης εριθήλεα οζον. Ιὰ ν. 30.

5 Рew Ta olα noтаμov dizηy, as expressed among the dogmas of Heraclitus the Ephesian, and with the same image by Seneca, in whom we find a beautiful diffusion of the thought. "Nemo est mane, qui fait pridie. Corpora nostra rapiuntur fluminum more; quidquid vides, currit cum tempore. Nihil ex his quae videmus manet. Ego ipse, dum loquor mutari ipsa, mutatus sum," &c.

I'll tell thee, as I trim thy fire,

"Swift, swift the tide of being runs,
"And Time, who bids thy flame expire,
"Will also quench yon heav'n of suns!"
Oh! then if earth's united power
Can never chain one feathery hour;
If every print we leave to-day
To-morrow's wave shall steal away;
Who pauses, to inquire of heaven
Why were the fleeting treasures given,
The sunny days, the shady nights,
And all their brief but dear delights,
Which heav'n has made for man to use,
And man should think it guilt to lose?
Who that has cull'd a weeping rose
Will ask it why it breathes and glows,
Unmindful of the blushing ray,
In which it shines its soul away;
Unmindful of the scented sigh,
On which it dies and loves to die!
Pleasure! thou only good on earth!1
One little hour resign'd to thee
Oh! by my LAIS' lip, 'tis worth
The sage's immortality!

Then far be all the wisdom hence,

And all the lore, whose tame control
Would wither joy with chill delays!
Alas! the fertile fount of sense,

At which the young, the panting soul
Drinks life and love, too soon decays!
Sweet Lamp! thou wert not form'd to shed
Thy splendour on a lifeless page
Whate'er my blushing LAIS said

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Of thoughtful lore and studies sage,
"Twas mockery all - her glance of joy
Told me thy dearest, best employ !2
And, soon as night shall close the eye
Of heav'n's young wanderer in the west;
When seers are gazing on the sky,

To find their future orbs of rest;
Then shall I take my trembling way,
Unseen but to those worlds above,
And, led by thy mysterious ray,
Glide to the pillow of my love.
Calm be her sleep, the gentle dear!
Nor let her dream of bliss so near;
Till o'er her cheek she thrilling feel
My sighs of fire in murmurs steal,
And I shall lift the locks, that flow
Unbraided o'er her lids of snow,
And softly kiss those sealed eyes,
And wake her into sweet surprise!
Or if she dream, oh! let her dream

Of those delights we both have known,
And felt so truly that they seem

Form'd to be felt by us alone!

1 Aristippus considered motion as the principle of happiness, in which idea he differed from the Epicureans, who looked to a state of repose as the only true voluptuousness, and avoided even the too lively agitations of pleasure, as a violent and ungraceful derangement

of the senses.

2 Maupertuis has been still more explicit than this philosopher, in ranking the pleasures of sense above the sublimest pursuits of wisdom. Speaking of the infant man, in his production, he calls him, "une nouvelle créature, qui pourra comprendre les choses les plus subliet ce qui est bien au-dessus, qui pourra goûter les mêmes plaisirs." See his Vénus Physique. This appears to be one of the efforts at Fontenelle's gallantry of manner, which the learned President is so well ridiculed in the Akakia of Voltaire.

mes,

for

Maupertuis may be thought to have borrowed from the ancient Aristippus that indiscriminate theory of pleasures which he has set forth in his Essai de Philosophie Morale, and for which he was so very justly condemned. Aristippus, according to Laërtius, held un Siaprosiv Te dovηv ýdorns, which irrational sentiment has been adopted by Maupertuis: "Tant qu'on ne considère que l'état présent, tous les plaisirs sont du même genre," &c. &c.

And I shall mark her kindling cheek,
Shall see her bosom warmly move,
And hear her faintly, lowly speak

The murmur'd sounds so dear to love!
Oh! I shall gaze, till e'en the sigh,
That wafts her very soul, be nigh,
And, when the nymph is all but blest,
Sink in her arms and share the rest!
Sweet LAIS! what an age of bliss

In that one moment waits for me!
Oh sages! think on joy like this,
And where's your boast of apathy!

ΤΟ

MRS. BL-H-D.

WRITTEN IN HER ALBUM.

Τουτο δε τι εστι το ποτον; πλανη, εφη. Cebetis Tabula.

THBY say that Love had once a book
(The urchin likes to copy you),
Where, all who came the pencil took,
And wrote, like us, a line or two.
"Twas Innocence, the maid divine,
Who kept this volume bright and fair,
And saw that no unhallow'd line

Or thought profane should enter there.

And sweetly did the pages fill

With fond device and loving lore, And every leaf she turn'd was still

More bright than that she turn'd before!

Beneath the touch of Hope, how soft,
How light the magic pencil ran!
Till Fear would come, alas! as oft,
And trembling close what Hope began.
A tear or two had dropp'd from Grief,
And Jealousy would, now and then,
Ruffle in haste some snowy leaf,

Which Love had still to smooth again!
But, oh! there was a blooming boy,
Who often turn'd the pages o'er,
And wrote therein such words of joy,
As all who read still sigh'd for more!
And Pleasure was this spirit's name,
And though so soft his voice and look,
Yet Innocence, whene'er he came,
Would tremble for her spotless book!
For still she saw his playful fingers
Fill'd with sweets and wanton toys;
And well she knew the stain, that lingers
After sweets from wanton boys!

And so it chanc'd, one luckless night
He let his honey goblet fall
O'er the dear book, so pure, so white,
And sullied lines and marge and all!
In vain he sought, with eager lip

The honey from the leaf to drink,
For still the more the boy would sip,
The deeper still the blot would sink!
Oh! it would make you weep to see
The traces of this honey flood
Steal o'er a page where Modesty
Had freshly drawn a rose's bud!

And Fancy's emblems lost their glow,
And Hope's sweet lines were all defac'd,
And Love himself could scarcely know

What Love himself had lately trac'd!
At length the urchin Pleasure fled,
(For how, alas! could Pleasure stay?)
And Love, while many a tear he shed,
In blushes flung the book away!
The index now alone remains,

Of all the pages spoil'd by Pleasure,
And though it bears some honey stains,
Yet Mem'ry counts the leaf a treasure!
And oft, they say, she scans it o'er,
And oft, by this memorial aided,
Brings back the pages now no more,
And thinks of lines that long are faded!

I know not if this tale be true,

But thus the simple facts are stated;
And I refer their truth to you,

Since Love and you are near related!

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'Tis evening now; the heats and cares of day

In twilight dews are calmly wept away.

The lover now, beneath the western star,
Sighs through the medium of his sweet segar,

And fills the ears of some consenting she

With puffs and vows, with smoke and constancy!
The weary statesman for repose hath fled
From halls of council to his negro's shed,

Where blest he wooes some black Aspasia's grace,
And dreams of freedom in his slave's embrace!1

In fancy now, beneath the twilight gloom,
Come, let me lead thee o'er this modern Rome! 2
Where tribunes rule, where dusky Davi bow,
And what was Goose-Creek once is Tiber now! 3
This fam'd metropolis, where Fancy sees
Squares in morasses, obelisks in trees;
Which travelling fools and gazetteers adorn
With shrines unbuilt and heroes yet unborn,
Though nought but wood and *********

they see,

1 The "black Aspasia" of the present *********** of the United States, "inter Avernales haud ignotissima nymphas" has given rise to much pleasantry among the anti-democrat wits in America.

2 On the original location of the ground now allotted for the seat of the Federal City (says Mr. Weld) the identical spot on which the capitol now stands was called Rome. This anecdote is related by many as a certain prognostic of the future magnificence of this city, which is to be, as it were, a second Rome." Weld's Travels, Letter iv.

3 A little stream runs through the city, which, with intolerable affectation, they have styled the Tiber. It was originally called Goose-Creek.

4 "To be under the necessity of going through a deep wood for one or two miles, perhaps, in order to see a next-door neighbour, and in the same city, is a curious, and, I believe, a novel circumstance." Weld, Letter iv.

The Federal City (if it must be called a city) has not been much increased since Mr. Weld visited it. Most of the public buildings, which were then in some degree of forwardness, have been since utterly suspended. The Hotel is already a ruin; a great part of its roof has fallen in, and the rooms are left to be occupied gratuitously by the miserable Scotch and Irish emigrants. The President's House, a very noble structure, is by no means suited to the philosophical humility of its present possessor, who inhabits but a corner of the mansion himself, and abandons the rest to a state of uncleanly desolation, which those who are not philosophers cannot look at without regret. This grand edifice is encircled by a very rude pale, through which

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