His proudest foes are at the conqueror's feet;
The fickle crowd their injured Prophet greet-
But where is she, from whom th' enthusiast drew
The first bright glance of hope's inspiring view?
Cadijah sleeps where silence darkly reigus,
Nor shares his triumph now, who shared his pains.
Oh! blame her not, that fondly she believed,
For oft the purest heart is most deceived.
His ardent breast, the den of loose desire,
For many a fair had nursed unhallowed fire;
Yet, on the lap of youthful love reclined,
Cadijah's matron-shade would soothe his mind;
And once, when beauty's pride presumed to claim
A praise superior to her treasured name ;-
"No-by yon heavens," he cried, “Cadijah gave
"Her generous love, when only love could save;
"Unfriended, poor, despised, she sought me then-
"A heart so true shall never beat again!"
By fraud or force advanced, Mohammed's name
Outstripped each hope his earlier years could frame:
The convert's humble soul that name adored,
Hung on his lips, and drank each holy word.
Who scorned his doctrine, feared the teacher's arm :
-Himself alone his wiles could never charm,
Nor sway, nor wealth, nor pleasure, hush to rest
The fiend, for ever wakeful in his breast.
Oh! when he traced the mazes of his plan,
How would his soul contemn deluded man,
Light as the desert sand, on every blast
Of passion's burning gale at random cast;
But on himself he wreaked his deepest scorn,
Who stooped to cheat a creature so forlorn.
Ambition's dreary shore a refuge gave
From the dark swell of thought's devouring wave.
Yet he had felt the impotence of power
To buy one smile of joy, one peaceful hour;
But action's stormy din might drown the voice,
Whose still small whisper said, "No more rejoice."
Wide o'er Arabia's waste his flaming sword
Stamped the dark braud of Islam's fraudful word;
On Jordan's holy banks that sabre shone ;
His name was feared on high Byzantium's throne,
Where now the sullied bays of haughty Rome,
Torn from their native soil, disdained to bloom.
-What awful hand arrests his proud career,
And thrills his inmost heart with mortal fear?
The power, whose noiseless shafts in darkness fly,
Burns in his blood, and glares in either eye.
In this dread hour, when worldly hopes subside,
When throbs the latest pulse of worldly pride,
When the rapt soul on viewless scenes is bent,-
Say, will that stubborn, conscious mind relent?
No-his last fitful gleam of reason's ray,
Like some foul vapour, shone but to betray.
That light had sunk in death's unfathomed shade:
Low on the common ground his limbs were laid;
Yet the stern gaze of his unconscious eye
Appalled the sad enthusiasts, weeping by,
And on his parted lip was faintly seen
Some trace of high command, that once had been.
In the first doubtful pause of wild despair
Hope, short-lived, anxious hope, will vainly share.
"He is not dead," they cried, "he cannot die,
Our Propliet here, our Advocate on high!
Wrapt in a holy trance, her airy flight
His soul hath winged to Allah's throne of light,
Whose secret laws, that scorn the bounds of time,
Form the dread theme of her discourse sublime.
On him shall Azrael's dart descend in vain-
Mohammed must revive, for Jesus rose again!"
Fount of eternal life! they durst compare
With Thee that breathless form extended there,
Dark fraud's deserted cell, pride's mouldering dust,
Ambition's refuse vile, the dregs of lust.
-But THOU wast holy, guileless, poor, betrayed,
Meek as a lamb, that mutely waits the blade,
Pure as the dewy pearl of infant day,
Soft as the tear, that pity wipes away.
Thy hand of power, thy heart of heavenly love,
Displayed on earth the Soul that reigns above,
From dark and rayless orbs dispersed the night,
Oped the dull ear to sounds of new delight,
Stretched the shrunk sinew, loosed the speechless tongue,
And waked the vital spark where death's cold damps were hung!
"Twas the sole bliss of thy benignant sway
To heal all wounds, and wipe all tears away;
Alluding to Mahomet's pretended night-journey to heaven.
Nor could thy bitter foes' relentless ire
One angry thought of just revenge inspire.
The pomp of princely power, Ambition's aim,
Thy soul despised, and shunned obstreperous fame.
Thy throne was not of this tumultuous world,
Reared on the wreck of kings, to ruin hurled,
But where Ambition's tearful triumphs cease,
In Heaven's high dome it stands, a throne of Peace.
Ye loftier strains adieu! But ill ye suit
The faint low murmur of a trifler's lute,
Whose pausing tones, upon the hillock-side
The thrush, with untaught song, hath oft outvied,
When from his vesper-shade he viewed the west,
And sweetly sung day's closing eye to rest.
Enough for me, that Nature's mute command
From all her vallies, bids my heart expand,-
Enough for me, that where her mountains rise,
Her torrents charm, her awful heights surprise.
To wake oue pensive note in Nature's bower,
When thought would moralize her simplest flower,
To breathe a voice through Nature's varying hue,—
Be such thy care, my lute-Ye loftier strains, adieu!
HAMILTON SYDNEY BERESFORD,
CLARE HALL.
CAMBRIDGE TRIPOS FOR 1816.
·Hic generosior
Descendat in campum pelitor;
Moribus hic meliorque fama
Contendat.-
ACTUM erat; et nigris iterum nox obsita pennis
Grantanas circùm caligine fuderat ædes ;
Omnis ubique fragor siluit: fessique, togata
Gens, cursu aut libris carpebant otia somni
Discipuli Euclidæ, nisi quà fors pensa terebant
Hic atque hic nocturna Sophi, et de turribus altis
Coccineum sunimæ jubar effudere fenestræ.
Nuper ut e pleno forte illâ nocte regressus
Concilio, memori volvebam in mente, quid æqui
Scilicet, numero et potentiâ propinquorum gratiosus. Not. Ed. GIS.
Dixerit hic, quid pravi alius, quibus argumentis,
Quâ ratione novus de justo præses honore
(Namque ita res habuit) fuerit depulsus, et actos
Mirabar tot suadelâ vel nescio cujus,
Verborum oblitos vocumque fuisse priorum.
Astitit ante oculos seu visa est tristis imago
Astare, et gemitus imo de pectore ducens,
Hæc exorsa dedit; "Nescis heu ! talia nescis
Nequicquam mirate; adsum vestri ipsa Senatûs
Custos hactenus, (et custos mansura fuissem
Ni periisset honos, inimicitiæque veneno
Cessisset) doctura modos, queis forsitan aures
Vel duo vel nemo tribuent, sed quos petit illud
Dedecus infandum, nostræque injuria famæ.
Eia, age, rumpe moras; dabit indignatio versus
Qualescunque potest:"-simul ac stupor (illa loquentis
Nam verba attonitum, monstrumque rei, novitasque
Terruerant) abiit; chartas et scrinia posco
Impatiens, operique audax accingor inepto.
Conventum est; vultu spes quædam fulsit in omni
Insueta, hæc veluti quid grande comitia ferrent;
Perque foros omnes, et sede in quâque videres
Stridere secretâ divisos aure susurros.
"Hac noster præses, nequaquam jure, peritus
Nocte cadet." "Magnum narras, vix credibile." "Atqui
Sic habet." "Et quali deprensus crimine? Quisnam
Delator? Quibus indiciis? Quo teste?""Tace jam ;
Nil horum; verbosa et grandis epistola venit,
Quam posse excelsam jactant evertere sellam."
Consedere omnes; surgis tu, pallidus Ajax,
Scripta notata tui digitis lecturus amici.
Præsidis heu tanti ad casum, talisque repulsam
Illa peti! si tu solio modè fructus eodem,
Si tu dignatus sublimi sede fuisses,
Falia non unquam tibi perniciosa fuissent.
Verùm ubi cæduntur summi plerumque minorum
Invidiâ, mordax odium non respicit artes
Ingenuas, animi dotes contemnit honesti;
Litera quærenda est, quæ te evehat, elevet illum.
Atque aliquis magno, " Vacuam hanc," ait impete, "sedem Præsidis edici, quâ rite locabitur alter
Confestim, placeat." Tum nolentumque volentumque Exoritur mistus clamor, vocumque tumultus
Diversarum ardent, donec moderatior adstat
Sermone, et gravibus (post facta silentia) verbis
Eloquitur: "Minimè dubitandum censeo, quin sit
Quæstio conventûs hæc nostri nobilitati
Damnosa in primis :"--vulgo ridetur, at ille—
"Ridendum censetis?" ait; "mihi credite, jamjam
Nobilitas horum cadet irrita conciliorum
Prisca, atque obscuris mox immersanda tenebris,
Talia si nostrum mentes agitare severas
Jurgia sit concessum; in publica commoda nempe
Peccamus, patriæ et privatas præferimus res.
Præterea quid de conventu judicet Europa
Est operæ pretium curare; hæc scilicet omnis
Sermones nostros cùm respicit, audiet, inquam,
Audiet insidiis, et lite negotia falli.
Proh pudor! et quisquam Grantæ venerabitur olim
Concilium? Quisquam lapsus arcere futuros
Curabit, cùm fila trahent extrema Sorores ?"
Finierat; post hunc aliquis monet, hosce tumultus
Seria ducturos esse in mala; "propterea quod
Nostra potestati subjecta est curia summi
Imperii, cujus lites has impiger ensis
Castigare valebit," ait; cui deinde subit quem
Copia verborum, et vocis dulcedo paternæ
Insignit: "Quid si nobis impendeat ensis
Ligneus, extremamque minentur fata ruinam?
Nollem equidem grandisque decus, vitamque Senatus
Servitio malè vocis emi; tunc ille ruat, cum
Linguæ animique semel, quodcunque est, imperium uti
Libertate vetat." Plausum est. Quis proximus antem
Nunc huc, nunc illuc aciem torquens oculorum
Immotus gravitate oritur, ceu vidimus olim
E testâ largos sermonum effundere rivos,
Exiguoque sacerdotem jam murmure plebem,
Jam rauco fremitu, jam vi terrere minarum.
Hic ille est, de quo spumosa, et plena tumultu
Res agitur, tandem ille gravis retinacula solvit
Præcipitis linguæ, rasis dein crimina librat
Antithetis, et nunc palmas ad sidera tollit
Complosas, nunc calcat humum, nunc verbere mensam
Percutit infelicem, et vult iratus haberi.
Testaturque Deos, se nullâ fraude, sed æquis
Artibus, ingenuisque ebur appetiisse curule.
Denique (nam dudum longis ambagibus ultra
Quam satis est, erro; musæque pedestris abundè est)
Cetera de genere hôc, sint plurima, sanus omittam.
Nimirum impatiens frendet jam Curia longæ
Tota more; nox et crescit, crescitque tumultus.
Tandem igitur positus (veterum seu cassida quondam).
|