To
DELLA
CRUSCA
.
YES
,
on
the
mountain's
haughty
swell
,
And
in
the
prostrate
dell
,
And
where
the
Dryades
fling
their
shades
—
There
may'st
thou
meet
the
Maid
serene
,
Or
trace
her
on
the
zephyr'd
green
Whilst
Day's
carnation
gently
fades
.
Doth
Nature
make
the
prospect
vast
,
With
rocks
o'erhang
,
and
rivers
cast
Tumbling
headlong
to
their
base
?
Do
seas
stretch
out
their
foamy
plains
,
Compelling
with
their
chrystal
chains
Wide
Continents
t'
embrace
?
All
these
attract
the
smooth-brow'd
fair
;
—
Or
where
can
Art
evince
her
powers
,
Where
,
Science
strew
immortal
flowers
,
And
gay
Indifference
—
haste
not
there
?
Whilst
PASSION
narrows
up
the
heart
,
TASTE
can
no
ray
of
bliss
impart
,
One
strong
idea
grasps
the
mind
—
Extends
itself
thro'
all
the
soul
,
Thro'
ev'ry
vein
its
furies
roll
,
And
tears
with
fangs
unkind
.
When
NEWTON
trod
the
starry
roads
,
And
view'd
the
dwellings
of
the
Gods
,
And
measur'd
every
Orb
—
Did
silly
Love
his
steps
attend
,
His
mighty
purposes
suspend
,
Or
his
grand
mind
absorb
?
When
intellectual
LOCKE
explor'd
The
Soul's
sad
vacuum
,
where
no
hoard
Of
budding
young
ideas
lay
—
Oh
tell
,
thus
rob'd
in
Wisdom's
stole
,
Did
Love's
coarse
torch
his
view
control
,
Or
light
him
in
the
darksome
way
?
Ha
!
DELLA
CRUSCA
,
cease
to
feign
,
Thy
cheek
with
red
repentance
stain
,
For
having
feign'd
so
long
;
Quick
seize
thy
Lyre
,
sweep
each
bold
string
,
O'er
every
chord
thy
music
fling
—
To
calm
INDIFFERENCE
raise
the
Song
!
Propitiate
first
,
then
with
her
haste
O'er
the
Globe's
peopled
,
motley
waste
;
Watch
CHARACTER
where'er
it
runs
;
Drink
newer
air
,
see
fiercer
suns
:
Seek
the
bland
realms
where
first
the
Morn
Pours
dawn-light
from
her
beamy
horn
;
—
Pours
scent
and
colours
o'er
the
vale
,
And
wakes
its
song
,
and
wakes
its
tale
.
Mark
how
CONFUCIUS'
feeble
race
,
(
Whose
records
vast
fail
not
to
trace
)
To
Imitation
still
confine
Their
powers
,
nor
deviate
from
its
line
.
Their
fourteen
thousand
glowing
springs
Passing
thro'
their
yearly
rings
,
Not
one
suggestion
left
behind
,
No
Art
,
nor
Virtue
more
refin'd
;
Philosophy
no
inroads
made
,
But
mute
,
within
its
awful
shade
Its
thoughts
occult
arrang'd
—
Whilst
Learning
,
blindfold
in
its
pen
,
This
costly
precept
gave
to
men
—
"
BE
WISE
,
but
be
unchang'd
.
"
Haste
!
—
leave
th'
insipid
herd
—
away
!
Where
EGYPT's
sons
imbrown
the
day
,
For
their
primeval
Wisdom
form'd
her
wreath
,
And
Science
first
was
taught
to
breathe
.
Oh
linger
here
!
the
Classic
clime
Demands
,
and
will
reward
thy
time
.
Here
shalt
thou
seek
th'
immortal
Dome
Where
Pleasure
triumph'd
over
ROME
;
And
tread
were
CLEOPATRA
trod
,
And
moisten
with
thy
tear
the
sod
Where
Taste
and
Love
their
banners
wav'd
,
Snatching
from
the
grave
Old
Time
—
Whose
life
fast-fading
Rapture
,
sav'd
,
And
Phoenix-like
renew'd
its
prime
.
Then
find
the
myrtled
tomb
,
The
now
unenvied
Lover's
home
;
But
,
lest
thy
pensive
steps
should
stray
,
To
guide
thee
in
th'
unknown
way
,
The
Moon
her
bright
locks
quick
unshrouds
;
Her
veil
of
gossamour
thin
clouds
,
Dissolves
to
air
,
and
her
soft
eye
Through
the
palm
grove's
haughty
shade
,
And
the
lofty
aloed
glade
,
Shall
guide
thee
where
thy
long-ow'd
sigh
Breath'd
o'er
the
mingling
Lover's
dust
,
Shall
gratify
their
hov'ring
souls
Beyond
an
EMPIRE's
votive
Bust
.
Is
a
soft
willow
bending
near
,
Whose
drooping
leaves
speak
grief
sincere
?
Its
drooping
leaves
,
ah
!
instant
seize
,
The
happy
violence
will
please
—
Bend
its
tender
flaccid
boughs
(
Murm'ring
soft
mysterious
vows
)
Into
garlands
—
leave
them
there
,
OFFERINGS
to
the
love-lost
pair
!
These
duties
paid
,
with
ling'ring
look
,
With
heart
by
silent
sorrow
shook
,
The
marbled
desart
next
explore
Where
Beauty's
glance
,
and
Learning's
lore
,
Ages
long
past
the
soul
beguil'd
—
Oh
think
!
in
that
unletter'd
wild
LONGINUS
wrote
,
ZENOBIA
smil'd
!
Where
now
a
humbled
column
lies
Stream'd
radiance
from
impassion'd
eyes
;
The
roof
where
odious
Night
Birds
rest
,
Once
shelter'd
Wit
,
once
echo'd
Jest
;
Where
Peasants
cumbrous
oxen
stall
,
THERPSICHORE
swam
through
the
ball
;
Serpents
convolve
,
where
music
trill'd
,
And
lost
Palmyra's
fate's
fulfill'd
.
Doth
splendid
scenes
thy
light
heart
prize
?
Fly
to
Italia's
downy
skies
!
Where
Fancy's
richest
strokes
abound
,
Where
NATURE's
happiest
points
are
found
;
The
pleasures
here
—
a
rosy
band
!
Link'd
to
her
car
with
flow'ry
chains
,
Bear
their
rapt
Goddess
o'er
the
plains
,
And
strew
their
glories
o'er
her
land
.
The
dulcet
groves
,
burst
with
rich
notes
,
Flung
from
a
thousand
trembling
throats
,
The
glossy
rivers
as
they
fly
—
Their
curv'd
embroider'd
bounds
between
,
Whose
glowing
tints
be-gem
the
green
,
Bear
on
their
curls
th'
ecstatic
sigh
;
—
The
breeze
detain'd
rests
its
pure
wing
,
To
hear
blest
Love
its
triumphs
sing
.
And
ah
!
be
Italy
ne'er
nam'd
,
Without
a
pause
to
those
so
fam'd
—
The
glorious
MEDICIS
!
Oh
SCULPTURE
!
lift
thy
pillar
high
,
And
grave
the
name
amidst
the
sky
!
Its
base
,
let
marble
sorrows
tend
,
And
chissel'd
woes
in
high
relief
,
Look
their
unutterable
grief
,
And
mute
Despair
its
tresses
rend
!
Blest
POETRY
!
compel
thy
lyre
To
sound
the
loud
immortal
praise
Of
those
who
cherish'd
thy
proud
bays
,
And
fed
thy
near
extinguish'd
fire
!
Thy
pencil
,
PAINTING
!
dip
in
shades
!
To
last
till
Europe's
Glory
fades
—
Thy
trophy'd
canvas
shall
be
Fame
To
those
who
nurs'd
thy
infant
Art
,
And
bear
to
mightier
shores
the
Name
!
Swiftly
,
my
DELLA
CRUSCA
,
turn
To
where
the
Medicean
Urn
,
The
once
proud
City
hallows
still
,
There
thy
fine
taste
may
drink
its
fill
.
—
To
FLORENCE
fly
—
O
,
no
!
for
ever
shun
her
tempting
skies
,
For
there
,
if
right
I
ween
,
the
Maid
INDIFFERENCE
dies
!
ANNA
MATILDA
.