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Lord of the generous arts, that win command,

By noble counsel, or by valorous hand,

He knew no rivals in the dastard knaves,

Who spring to wealth from Lucre's base-born slaves; 20
Who gain rich lands, and feed luxurious boards,
By the vile modes, which groveling Trade affords!
Perchance some Knight of more adventrous name
His spirit's generous envy might enflame,

One, on whose breast with more resplendent fire
Beam'd the red cross, or growl'd the lion's ire;
Who rode with statelier grace the prancing horse,
Or couch'd his quivering lance with mightier force!
E'en tho' his heaving bosom swell'd with pain,
Aspiring wreaths of equal worth to gain,
Still in the grateful strife was glory mix'd,
And Virtue's wishes in his heart were fix'd:
No wealthy son of Commerce bade him hide
Before superior pomp his lessen'd pride,
Nor call'd him with insulting sneers to vie
In the mean race of arts he scorn'd to try:
Honour and rank and wealth he saw await
Toils of the wise, and actions of the great;
Nor mark'd, where'er before his aching eyes
Halls, mansions, castles, palaces, arise,
Wretches usurp them, who in darksome cells
Won their base spoils by Traffic's hated spells!
Rude was the pile, that from th' impending brow
Of some steep rock upon the wave below
Oft look'd with fearful grandeur; loud the blast
Rav'd on its walls, and thro' its turrets past;
Chill were its sunless rooms, and drear the aisles
Along whose length the night-breeze told her tales;
Massive the walls, thro' which the genial day.
Strove with warm breath in vain to win its way: 50



But jocund was its hall; and gay the feast
That spoke the genuine gladness of the breast,
When rang'd its hospitable boards along,
The warlike bands renew'd th' heroic song;
Or told wild tales, or drank with greedy ear
Romantic ditties, which the Minstrel-Seer
Tun'd to his harp, while, as with bolder fire
He threw his raptur'd hand across the wire,
With visions of new glory beam'd each eye,
And loud the gathering chorus rose on high;
Till shook the rafter'd roof, and every bound
Of the wide castle trembled with the sound.


Rough were the scenes, as was the master's mind,
Which Nature, bordering on th' abode, design'd;
Forests of age untold, whose unpierc'd wood
Ne'er to the labourer's echoing axe had bow'd ;
Soft lawns, which mid surrounding coverts spread,
By the wild tenants of the scene were fed;
Deep dells, with fern and brake, and twisted thorn
Thick-matted, whence the hunter's shrill-ton'd horn 70
Started th' elastic deer, which, stung with fright,
Swift as the viewless winds, pursued their flight;
Loud torrents, rumbling as they won their course •
Thro' fretted rocks and winding banks by force;
Or rills, that murmur'd music, as their race,
Thro' flowery vales, they ran with even pace.

When War's alarms no more around him rag'd,
In sports amid these scenes the Chief engaged;
Sports, that became his hardy form !-When Light
First 'gan to streak the flying mists of Night,
From his rough couch he sprung; his bugle blew,
And round him each impatient hunter drew;
Then forth the steed of wondrous swiftuess came,
And thro' the woods he sought th' affrighted game;


From morn to eve, woods, plains, and vales and hills
With the loud echo of his voice he fills;

No toil fatigues him, and no danger stays;
Perils the zest of his amusement raise;

Then home to gorgeous halls and blazing fires,
Weary, yet pleas'd with exercise, retires.
The feast is spread; the war-clad walls along
Rings the glad converse, and rebounding song;
And when again the sable-mantled Night
Far o'er the sky has urg'd her heavy flight,
On the hard bed his giant limbs he throws,
And sinks serenely into deep repose!

O age of luxury! O days of ease!


The restless, vigorous, soul ye ne'er can please!
Within your stagnant lakes Corruption breeds,
And on your flowers vile sensual Meanness feeds! 100
As when foul pests have gather'd in the sky,
And o'er the globe the death-charg'd vapours fly,
Soon as the mighty Tempest drives his blasts,
And thro' the lurid gloom his lightning casts,
Vanish the congregated Brood of Ills,

And heath and sunshine all the landscape fills;
So, when wan Indolence, and timid Joy,
The native spirit of the mind destroy,

And fiends of Hell, and sprites of loathsome Pain,
Self-love, Lust, Gluttony, and Hate, enchain;
The toils of war, the battle's thundering storm
The sleepy current of the soul reform;


The loaded bosom purge, and bid it flame
With the pure throbbings of a generous fame;
And light with hope, and airy with the fire

Of blest Ambition, up to Heaven aspire!"*


* I had just finished this Essay, when I received the two following from a most valuable and respected Correspondent.


No. II. On the effects of rural scenery. "These are thy glorious works, Parent of good!" MILTON.

THE pride and vanity of man, in order to distinguish him from the inferior animals of the creation, instead of having recourse to that reason by which he alone was formed "after the image" and "in the likeness" of his Maker, has led him to imagine a thousand frivolous and trifling marks of difference. Hence one philosopher defines him to be a laughing, and another a weeping animal. One makes the chief criterion between him and brutes, to be, that he walks upon two legs and is not covered with feathers; and another, with an affectation of piety, that he walks upon two legs and looks up to heaven; "Os Hominis sublime dedit, cœlumque tueri jussit." One, that he is the most perfect of creatures; and another, that he is the most helpless. So that, in short, the most inconsiderable varieties of form and manners have served them as sufficient foundations on which to build the most important of all generic distinctions; although in reality a negro, from under the equator, differs more in mere external appearance from a Greenlander, or an inhabitant of Terra del Fuego, than either of them does from several other animals.

But though it may be very truly asserted, and few 'persons will now be disposed to contradict it, that the only real and certain difference between us and all other creatures, consists in the inestimable gift of reason; still this does not completely solve the

difficulty; for beasts also have some degree of understanding; and the wisest of men have never yet been able to explain the exact analogy which the internal faculties of the "half reasoning elephant," and the acute instinct of the dog, bear to our boasted understanding.

There is however one faculty of man, connected indeed with reason; but wholly independent of the exercise of its higher powers, which has, I believe, been entirely overlooked in all the various speculations upon this subject, and which yet seems to form a very marked ground of distinction between the human race and brutes. This is the delight occasioned to the mind by rural scenery; so that I would define man as an "animal capable of receiving pleasure from the beauties of Nature." Of this there is not the least ground for supposing that other creatures are at all susceptible. No horse, or dog, has ever been observed to stop to enjoy the view from a hill; to admire the rising or setting sun; or to choose to repose in a shady valley unless from the want of its shelter from the heat. A dog indeed will frisk in the snow, and, as Cowper says, will

"Shake his powder'd coat, and bark for joy:"

but he is never seen to admire the frozen fog which hangs on the tree, nor the glitter of the sunbeams on the icicle which is suspended from the roof; and the horse bounds over the verdant mead with as much pleasure in a dreary marsh as on the mountain's top,

But if this be greater, still perhaps it may be said

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