ISIS
.
An
ELEGY
.
WRITTEN
BY
MR.
MASON
OF
CAMBRIDGE
,
1748.
FAR
from
her
hallow'd
grot
,
where
mildly
bright
,
The
pointed
crystals
shot
their
trembling
light
,
From
dripping
moss
where
sparkling
dew-drops
fell
,
Where
coral
glow'd
,
where
twin'd
the
wreathed
shell
,
Pale
ISIS
lay
;
a
willow's
lowly
shade
Spread
its
thin
foliage
o'er
the
sleeping
maid
;
Clos'd
was
her
eye
,
and
from
her
heaving
breast
In
careless
folds
loose
flow'd
her
zoneless
vest
;
While
down
her
neck
her
vagrant
tresses
flow
,
In
all
the
awful
negligence
of
woe
;
Her
urn
sustain'd
her
arm
,
that
sculptur'd
vase
Where
Vulcan's
art
had
lavish'd
all
its
grace
;
Here
,
full
with
life
,
was
heav'n-taught
Science
seen
,
Known
by
the
laurel
wreath
,
and
musing
mein
:
There
cloud-crown'd
Fame
,
here
Peace
sedate
and
bland
,
Swell'd
the
loud
trump
,
and
wav'd
the
olive
wand
;
While
solemn
domes
,
arch'd
shades
,
and
vistas
green
,
At
well
mark'd
distance
close
the
sacred
scene
.
On
this
the
goddess
cast
an
anxious
look
,
Then
dropt
a
tender
tear
,
and
thus
she
spoke
:
Yes
,
I
could
once
with
pleas'd
attention
trace
The
mimic
charms
of
this
prophetic
vase
;
Then
lift
my
head
,
and
with
enraptur'd
eyes
View
on
yon
plain
the
real
glories
rise
.
Yes
,
ISIS
!
oft
hast
thou
rejoic'd
to
lead
Thy
liquid
treasures
o'er
yon
fav'rite
mead
;
Oft
hast
thou
stopt
thy
pearly
car
to
gaze
,
While
ev'ry
Science
nurs'd
it's
growing
bays
;
While
ev'ry
Youth
with
fame's
strong
impulse
fir'd
,
Prest
to
the
goal
,
and
at
the
goal
untir'd
,
Snatch'd
each
celestial
wreath
,
to
bind
his
brow
,
The
Muses
,
Graces
,
Virtues
could
bestow
.
E'en
now
fond
Fancy
leads
th'
ideal
train
,
And
ranks
her
troops
on
Mem'ry's
ample
plain
;
See
!
the
firm
leaders
of
my
patriot
line
,
See
!
Sidney
,
Raleigh
,
Hamden
,
Somers
shine
.
See
Hough
superior
to
a
tyrant's
doom
Smile
at
the
menace
of
the
slave
of
Rome
:
Each
soul
whom
truth
could
fire
,
or
virtue
move
,
Each
breast
,
strong
panting
with
its
country's
love
,
All
that
to
Albion
gave
the
heart
or
head
,
That
wisely
counsel'd
,
or
that
bravely
bled
,
All
,
all
appear
;
on
me
they
grateful
smile
,
The
well-earn'd
prize
of
every
virtuous
toil
To
me
with
fillial
reverence
they
bring
,
And
hang
fresh
trophies
o'er
my
honour'd
spring
Ah
!
I
remember
well
yon
beachen
spray
,
There
Addison
first
tun'd
his
polish'd
lay
;
'Twas
there
great
Cato's
form
first
met
his
eye
,
In
all
the
pomp
of
free-born
majesty
;
"
My
son
,
he
cry'd
,
observe
this
mien
with
awe
,
"
In
solemn
lines
the
strong
resemblance
draw
;
"
The
piercing
notes
shall
strike
each
British
ear
;
"
Each
British
eye
shall
drop
the
patriot
tear
!
"
And
rous'd
to
glory
by
the
nervous
strain
,
"
Each
youth
shall
spurn
at
slav'ry's
abject
reign
,
"
Shall
guard
with
Cato's
zeal
Britannia's
laws
,
"
And
speak
,
and
act
,
and
bleed
,
in
freedom's
cause
.
"
The
hero
spoke
;
the
bard
assenting
bow'd
,
The
lay
to
liberty
and
Cato
flow'd
;
While
Echo
,
as
she
rov'd
the
vale
along
,
Join'd
the
strong
cadence
of
his
Roman
song
.
But
ah
!
how
stillness
slept
upon
the
ground
,
How
mute
attention
check'd
each
rising
sound
;
Scarce
stole
a
breeze
to
wave
the
leafy
spray
,
Scarce
trill'd
sweet
Philomel
her
softest
lay
,
When
Locke
walk'd
musing
forth
;
e'en
now
I
view
Majestic
wisdom
thron'd
upon
his
brow
,
View
Candor
smile
upon
his
modest
cheek
,
And
from
his
eye
all
judgment's
radiance
break
.
'Twas
here
the
sage
his
manly
zeal
exprest
,
Here
stript
vain
falshood
of
her
gaudy
vest
;
Here
truth's
collected
beams
first
fill'd
his
mind
,
Ere
long
to
burst
in
blessings
on
mankind
;
Ere
long
to
shew
to
reason's
purged
eye
,
That
"
Nature's
first
best
gift
was
liberty
.
"
Proud
of
this
wond'rous
son
,
sublime
I
stood
,
(
While
louder
surges
swell'd
my
rapid
flood
)
Then
vain
as
Niobe
,
exulting
cry'd
,
Ilissus
!
roll
thy
fam'd
Athenian
tide
;
Tho'
Plato's
steps
oft
mark'd
thy
neighb'ring
glade
,
Tho'
fair
Lycaeum
lent
its
awful
shade
,
Tho'
ev'ry
academic
green
imprest
It's
image
full
on
thy
reflecting
breast
,
Yet
my
pure
stream
shall
boast
as
proud
a
name
,
And
Britain's
Isis
flow
with
Attic
fame
.
Alas
!
how
chang'd
!
where
now
that
Attic
boast
?
See
!
Gothic
licence
rage
o'er
all
my
coast
;
See
!
Hydra
faction
spread
it's
impious
reign
,
Poison
each
breast
,
and
madden
ev'ry
brain
:
Hence
frontless
crouds
,
that
not
content
to
fright
The
blushing
Cynthia
from
her
throne
of
night
,
Blast
the
fair
face
of
day
;
and
madly
bold
,
To
freedom's
foes
infernal
orgies
hold
;
To
freedom's
foes
,
ah
!
see
the
goblet
crown'd
,
Hear
plausive
shouts
to
freedom's
foes
resound
;
The
horrid
notes
my
refluent
waters
daunt
,
The
echoes
groan
,
the
Dryads
quit
their
haunt
;
Learning
,
that
once
to
all
diffus'd
her
beam
,
Now
sheds
,
by
stealth
,
a
partial
private
gleam
,
In
some
lone
cloister's
melancholy
shade
,
Where
a
firm
few
support
her
sickly
head
,
Despis'd
,
insulted
by
the
barb'rous
train
,
Who
scour
like
Thracia's
moon-struck
rout
the
plain
,
Sworn
foes
like
them
to
all
the
Muse
approves
,
All
Phoebus
favours
,
or
Minerva
loves
.
Are
these
the
sons
my
soft'ring
breast
must
rear
,
Grac'd
with
my
name
,
and
nurtur'd
by
my
care
?
Must
these
go
forth
from
my
maternal
hand
To
deal
their
insults
thro'
a
peaceful
land
;
And
boast
while
Freedom
bleeds
,
and
virtue
groans
,
That
"
Isis
taught
rebellion
to
her
sons
?
"
Forbid
it
heaven
!
and
let
my
rising
waves
Indignant
swell
,
and
whelm
the
recreant
slaves
!
In
England's
cause
their
patriot
floods
employ
,
As
Xanthus
delug'd
in
the
cause
of
Troy
.
Is
this
deny'd
;
then
point
some
secret
way
Where
far
far
hence
these
guiltless
streams
may
stray
;
Some
unknown
channel
lend
,
where
nature
spreads
Inglorious
vales
,
and
unfrequented
meads
,
There
,
where
a
hind
scarce
tunes
his
rustic
strain
,
Where
scarce
a
pilgrim
treads
the
pathless
plain
,
Content
I'll
flow
;
forget
that
e'er
my
tide
Saw
yon
majestic
structures
crown
its
side
;
Forget
,
that
e'er
my
rapt
attention
hung
,
Or
on
the
sage's
or
the
poet's
tongue
;
Calm
and
resign'd
my
humbler
lot
embrace
,
And
pleas'd
,
prefer
oblivion
to
disgrace
.