Ethic Strains, On Subjects Sublime And Beautiful - Part Ii Poem by Thomas Odiorne

SECTION I.
Morn—Apostrophe to Nature—Imagined Efforts under other Circumstances.
The dayspring now in yon glad east appears,
And vernal songs congratulate our ears;
Soft gleamings through the firmament expand,
And scenes obscure grow luminous o'er land.

Hail, Nature! marvellous, sublime, and fair!
Thy magic charm what poet can declare?
What genius represent thee as thou art?
So move the mind, so captivate the heart?
I cannot; yet, inspir'd my voice to raise,
Fain would I, wrapt in wonder, chant thy praise.

O! had I talents, leisure, books, and friends,
Or inspiration that to Heaven ascends;
I would attempt, with utmost grace and art,
To please the fancy, and improve the heart!
From critic laws absolved of frigid men,
Elicit beams, like lightning, from the pen!

In effervescence of the mind,
With apt expression's force inspir'd,
Exhibit nature, well-defin'd,
And press her moral on the soul!
As when some Painter, fir'd,
Seizes the pencil, nigh,
Portrays his vision to the eye,
And bids sublime emotion roll!
So, with superb description fraught,
The pen should give conception form,
The figure of the thought,
The words should glow, the sentiment should warm.

Alas! with such a sterile genius born,
Should I perchance a transient thought adorn;
I boast not—covet not vain-glorious fame,
For who can find a substance in a name?
Vapid! illusive as the viewless air!
'Tis nought, unless intrinsic worth be there!
Some, virtue place in deeds conform'd to rule;
'Twere better, first, to fix it in the soul;
For, though an act overt produce no ill,
It may be void of goodness in the will.
Nay, though a thousand acts benev'lent seem,
The heart may not with worthy motive teem.


SECTION II.
Effects of Pleasant Prospects—Good Humour—Rural Walk—Descriptions in which several Beautiful Objects are noticed—A perched Bird, singing; Ascending Vapour; An Eagle circling the Skies.
But, though I wander here and there too long,
Indulgent Reader! still attend my song!
In all the richness of the noon of year,
When o'er the landscape countless hues appear,
What graceful scenes in sightly contrast rise!
New charms, unfolding, strike one with surprise;
And what surprises has its due control—
It leaves its force upon the thinking soul.
What sweet sensation, what delight refin'd,
A pleasant prospect spreads about the mind?
Lo! where the scene in native beauty dwells,
Or where the landscape, deck'd by art, excels;
The gentle breast admires its like to own,
And e'en the dull imbibes a cheerful tone!
A placid radiance brightens in the face;
So evening glides a darkling cloud with grace.

But, lo! in fancy's brilliant eye I see,
Yonder, a woodland nymph of liberty!
All-hale she seems, the ruddy child of morn,
Mid sportive airs and smiling prospect born;—
Her eye all soul, her look all charm,
Methinks she might a stoic warm;
For sprightly thoughts and frankness fam'd,
I know the nymph—Good Humour nam'd!
The spring-tide rapture taught her breast to thrill,
She learn'd her converse from the vocal rill,
Stole from the waving woods her manners dear,
And caught her pity from the willow's tear.
Pleas'd, through the scented lawn and shadowy grove,
Cheer'd by the songs of birds, she loves to rove;
And what is beautiful in every scene,
'Livens her mind, and luminates her mien.

Come, then, fair Virgin! let the smiling dawn
Invite our footsteps o'er the dewy lawn,
Where we may hear the wild-trill'd music roll,
And welcome nature's charm upon the soul.
See the rapt warbler! perch'd upon an elm,
With dulcet strains he greets the neighb'ring realm!
How he exalts his head! his throat he fills—
Sight's charm'd with beauty, earls charm'd with trills!
Come let us trace the gentle stream along,
And list the little cherub's wildering song!
Then, from yon airy height upon the green,
Explore with transport the surrounding scene!
Delighted sit beneath o'erhanging shade,
As 'twere with souls for mutual converse made,
Till ebb'd emotion swell into a tide,
As we behold the prospect, far and wide!

Here, through the flowery vale, a streamlet flows;
Fair as the morn, its glassy bosom glows;
There, rolls a river through luxuriant lands,
Still further on, a silver lake expands;
Around, all-beauteous nature opes to sight
The softest, sweetest, aspects of delight;
Greens level spread, or rise in graceful slopes;
Trees stand alone, or gather into groups;
The corn-blade triumphs o'er the fertile plain;
Far waves the glory of the golden grain;
While scatt'ring kine, enliv'ning all the scene,
The pastures range, or graze along the green;
And here and there, with a neat cottage crown'd,
The smoothly waving hills rejoice around;
While, half-embosom'd in yon circling bowers,
White with fair streams, and deck'd with fruits and flowers,
A lovely village, glistening to the rays,
Lifts its bright spire to Heaven in grateful praise.

But, lo! beneath yon hillock's verdant brink,
Where, bending, stoops the thirsty steed to drink,
How beautiful yon rising vapour seems,
Its bosom glowing to the lucid beams!
Slow-upward on the viewless air serene
Its spiral folds in fleecy swells are seen;
It moves upon the balmy-breathing air,
Like Mercy, wing'd from Heaven to sooth despair.

So, in a clear and tranquil winter-morn,
When air is dense, and snows the ground adorn,
Emerging smoke from chimney's top ascends,
And, in a lengthen'd foam, convolving blends:
Perhaps first rising through some green-crown'd wood,
Not far from where our native cottage stood—
Beauteous its towers! a volume white as frost,
Till in the vast expanse of ether lost.

Thus a smooth streamlet's fair pellucid tide
Steals soft along with sweetly-winding glide,
Its bosom burnish'd by the sapphire sky,
A soothing surface to the gazing eye!
Reflected from its crystal glare serene,
Surrounding objects in reverse are seen;
Except where ruffling down its rocky bed,
Straight it descends into a level spread;
Wide, and more wide, a broader course it laves,
Till mix'd with ocean's all-o'erwhelming waves.

Now, 'mongst the rustling groves, the zephyrs play;
Inconstant, as in fits, they rest or stray;
Oft they suspend their hasty course to hear
The falling rivulet that babbles near;
Then, starting instant, make a murm'ring noise;
The mountain nods, the vale is full of joys;
In all her virgin-prime, and blooming wreathes,
With vernal sweetness Nature perfume breathes;
At length, grown grave, she drops her gaudy suit,
Ripens her seed, and fills her branch with fruit;
Refresh'd meanwhile, by genial suns and rains,
Till, rich with gold, she crowns the joyous plains.
Lo! how the cluster'd grapes, in purple pride,
Hang in festoons upon the mountain-side!
Or on the slender tendrils of the vine,
That loves the hedge to hug, or bush to twine!
I turn my view, and, every where around,
See loaded August bending to the ground!
As from his fields the farmer homeward goes,
With grateful thoughts his ardent bosom glows.

The charm still reigns:—On yonder hill-side green,
What various kine, what numerous flocks are seen!
With greedy mouths some crop the tender blade;
Reposing, some enjoy the cooling shade;
Some pensive loiter; some, in sportive mood,
Race o'er the ground, pursuing and pursued;—
While, just emerg'd from desert woods alone,
Whither she, wand'ring from the plain, had gone,
Upon a distant height a heifer lows;
With head uplift, a handsome form she shows;
Along the winding basement of the hill,
A dark-grey courser stoops to drink his fill;
A thousand bleating sheep are scatter'd round,
The welkin rings, the solitudes resound.
The landscape, all alive upon the slope,
Presents to view a most enchanting scope.
So seem the forms, by mimic Art portray'd,
Beauteous illusions, mingling glare and shade!

Lo! perch'd upon a pointed rock on high,
A royal eagle darts around his eye!
Mute he remains, or screams aloud by spells,
And frightens Silence in her lonely cells.
O! 'tis a spectacle surpassing fair,
When, wing'd aloft, he swims the liquid air!
As late I view'd him in his soaring flight,
The boundaries of nature in his sight,
Lo! he kept lessening to my gazing eyes,
Till he had form'd a spire that reach'd the skies!
I mark'd my object as he smaller grew,
Till gone and lost from admiration's view.
Had man such buoyant wings, I said, he soon,
Perch'd on her hills, would hail the social moon;
Thence, in his rapt aspirings, waft his flight
To stars remote, or to the verge of light.
Thus vagrant were my live imaginings,
Till Reason woke, and Fancy dropt her wings.


SECTION III.
Evening.
There is a time in nature's round,
When earth appears enchanted ground;—
A season—O divinely fair!
A time to heavenly musing due,
When objects soften on the view,
And Meditation loves to wander there;—
'Tis when the day's departing close
Looks from the west in golden gleams,
And gilds the lake with gorgeous glows,
While nature round like Eden seems;—
'Tis in that stealing, soothing pause,
When gentle birds, the fields along,
Have ceas'd to trill the vesper-song,
While evening mild her curtain draws,
Shadowy, serene, and cool,
And Labour drops the tool;—
'Tis when the harmonies of light and shade
Meet on the hill, and overspread the glade;—
'Tis then that scen'ry in its softness lies,
And, 'mongst the clouds, aerial visions rise.
Faint, and more faint, suffus'd with dusky grey,
Their dubious aspects slowly die away,
Till darkness, ever faithful to fulfil
Nature's great law, comes brooding o'er the hill.
Wide spreads the sable curtain of repose,
And grants the world oblivion to her woes.