Poetry. Alexander PopeЧитать онлайн книгу.
pen, victorious was his lance, Bold in the lists, and graceful in the dance: In the same shades the Cupids tuned his lyre, To the same notes, of love and soft desire: Fair Geraldine, bright object of his vow, Then fill'd the groves, as heavenly Mira now. Oh, wouldst thou sing what heroes Windsor bore, What kings first breathed upon her winding shore, Or raise old warriors, whose adored remains In weeping vaults her hallow'd earth contains! 300 With Edward's acts50 adorn the shining page, Stretch his long triumphs down through every age, Draw monarchs chain'd, and Cressy's glorious field, The lilies blazing on the regal shield: Then, from her roofs when Verrio's colours fall, And leave inanimate the naked wall, Still in thy song should vanquish'd France appear, And bleed for ever under Britain's spear. Let softer strains ill-fated Henry mourn,51 And palms eternal flourish round his urn. 310 Here o'er the martyr-king the marble weeps, And, fast beside him, once-fear'd Edward sleeps.52 Whom not the extended Albion could contain, From old Belerium to the northern main, The grave unites; where ev'n the great find rest, And blended lie the oppressor and the oppress'd! Make sacred Charles' tomb for ever known, (Obscure the place, and uninscribed the stone) Oh fact accursed! what tears has Albion shed, Heavens, what new wounds! and how her old have bled! 320 She saw her sons with purple deaths expire, Her sacred domes involved in rolling fire, A dreadful series of intestine wars, Inglorious triumphs and dishonest scars. At length great Anna said—'Let discord cease!' She said, the world obey'd, and all was peace! In that blest moment, from his oozy bed Old Father Thames advanced his reverend head; His tresses dropp'd with dews, and o'er the stream His shining horns diffused a golden gleam: 330 Graved on his urn appear'd the moon, that guides His swelling waters, and alternate tides; The figured streams in waves of silver roll'd, And on their banks Augusta53 rose in gold. Around his throne the sea-born brothers stood, Who swell with tributary urns his flood; First the famed authors of his ancient name, The winding Isis and the fruitful Thame: The Kennet swift, for silver eels renown'd; The Loddon slow, with verdant alders crown'd; 340 Cole, whose dark streams his flowery islands lave; And chalky Wey, that rolls a milky wave; The blue, transparent Vandalis appears; The gulfy Lee his sedgy tresses rears; And sullen Mole, that hides his diving flood; And silent Darent, stain'd with Danish blood. High in the midst, upon his urn reclined, (His sea-green mantle waving with the wind) The god appear'd: he turn'd his azure eyes Where Windsor-domes and pompous turrets rise; 350 Then bow'd and spoke; the winds forget to roar, And the hush'd waves glide softly to the shore. Hail, sacred Peace! hail, long-expected days, That Thames's glory to the stars shall raise! Though Tiber's streams immortal Rome behold, Though foaming Hermus swells with tides of gold, From heaven itself though sevenfold Nilus flows, And harvests on a hundred realms bestows; These now no more shall be the Muse's themes, Lost in my fame, as in the sea their streams. 360 Let Volga's banks with iron squadrons shine, And groves of lances glitter on the Rhine, Let barbarous Ganges arm a servile train; Be mine the blessings of a peaceful reign. No more my sons shall dye with British blood Red Iber's sands, or Ister's foaming flood: Safe on my shore each unmolested swain Shall tend the flocks, or reap the bearded grain; The shady empire shall retain no trace Of war or blood, but in the sylvan chase; 370 The trumpet sleep, while cheerful horns are blown, And arms employ'd on birds and beasts alone. Behold! the ascending villas on my side, Project long shadows o'er the crystal tide, Behold! Augusta's glittering spires increase, And temples rise,54 the beauteous works of Peace. I see, I see, where two fair cities bend Their ample bow, a new Whitehall ascend! There mighty nations shall inquire their doom, The world's great oracle in times to come; 380 There kings shall sue, and suppliant states be seen Once more to bend before a British queen. Thy trees, fair Windsor! now shall leave their woods, And half thy forests rush into the floods, Bear Britain's thunder, and her cross display, To the bright regions of the rising day; Tempt icy seas, where scarce the waters roll, Where clearer flames glow round the frozen pole; Or under southern skies exalt their sails, Led by new stars, and borne by spicy gales! 390 For me the balm shall bleed, and amber flow, The coral redden, and the ruby glow, The pearly shell its lucid globe infold, And Phoebus warm the ripening ore to gold. The time shall come when, free as seas or wind, Unbounded Thames shall flow for all mankind, Whole nations enter with each swelling tide, And seas but join the regions they divide; Earth's distant ends our glory shall behold, And the new world launch forth to seek the old. 400 Then ships of uncouth form shall stem the tide, And feather'd people crowd my wealthy side, And naked youths and painted chiefs admire Our speech, our colour, and our strange attire! O stretch thy reign, fair Peace! from shore to shore, Till conquest cease, and slavery be no more; Till the freed Indians in their native groves Reap their own fruits, and woo their sable loves, Peru once more a race of kings behold, And other Mexicos be roof'd with gold. 410 Exiled by thee from earth to deepest hell, In brazen bonds, shall barbarous Discord dwell; Gigantic Pride, pale Terror, gloomy Care, And mad Ambition shall attend her there: There purple Vengeance bathed in gore retires, Her weapons blunted, and extinct her fires: There hateful Envy her own snakes shall feel, And Persecution mourn her broken wheel: There Faction roar, Rebellion bite her chain, And gasping Furies thirst for blood in vain. 420 Here cease thy flight, nor with unhallow'd lays Touch the fair fame of Albion's golden days: The thoughts of gods let Granville's verse recite, And bring the scenes of opening fate to light. My humble Muse, in unambitious strains, Paints the green forests and the flowery plains, Where Peace descending bids her olives spring, And scatters blessings from her dove-like wing. Ev'n I more sweetly pass my careless days, Pleased in the silent shade with empty praise; 430 Enough for me, that to the listening swains First in these fields I sung the sylvan strains.
VARIATIONS.
VER. 3–6, originally thus:—
Chaste Goddess of the woods,
Nymphs of the vales, and Naïads of the floods,
Lead me through arching bowers, and glimmering glades.
Unlock your springs, &c.
VER. 25–28. Originally thus:—
Why should I sing our better suns or air,
Whose vital draughts prevent the leech's care,
While through fresh fields the enlivening odours breathe,
Or spread with vernal blooms the purple heath?
VER. 49, 50. Originally thus in the MS.—
From towns laid waste, to dens and caves they ran
(For who first stoop'd to be a slave was man.)
VER. 57, 58:—
No wonder savages or subjects slain—
But subjects starved while savages were fed.
VER. 91–94:—
Oh may no more a foreign master's rage,
With wrongs yet legal, curse a future age!
Still spread, fair Liberty! thy heavenly wings,
Breathe plenty on the fields, and fragrance on the springs.
VER. 97–100:—
When yellow autumn summer's heat succeeds,
And into wine the purple harvest bleeds,
The partridge feeding in the new-shorn fields,
Both morning sports and evening pleasures yields.
VER. 107–110. It stood thus in the first editions:—
Pleased, in the General's sight, the host lie down
Sudden before some unsuspecting town;
The young, the old, one instant makes our prize,
And o'er their captive heads Britannia's standard flies.
VER. 126—
O'er rustling leaves around the naked groves.
VER. 129—
The fowler lifts his levell'd