THE CHARGE OF CYRUS THE GREAT. BY RICHARD ONELY, M. A. WHAT means this awful sight? why round me shine Those radiant glories, and that form divine? See! where commission'd with some dread command, How sternly waves you visionary hand! Near and more near it beckons, "Cyrus, rise; " The Gods remand thee to thy native skies. " Since thus the pleasure of imperial Jove, And solemn omens warn me from above; Come then, ye fathers, venerable grown, Whose steady counsels prop the Persian throne! Ye friends, long wedded to fair Virtue's cause, And ye, my sons, whom filial duty awes! Attentive hear, amidst th' assembled throng, The dying accents of a monarch's tongue. I cease to live! yet, ah! forbear to shew The mad expressions of unmanly woe. To die, is to be blest: this understood, 'Twere needless mourning for the wise and good. What Virtues charm us, or what Arts engage In childhood, youth, in manhood, or in age, In these I spent each well-distinguish'd day, And still pursued, where Honour led the way: Mine was each gift kind fortune could afford, The statesman's counsel, or the hero's sword. See, Asia, see thy once ignoble race, What glory heightens, and what worthies grace! See Peace thy realms with smiling train adorn, And Plenty pour the treasures of her horn. Yet, oft as Fortune blew propitious gales, And mildest Zephyrs fann'd my swelling sails, Still Caution warn'd me, anxious for the realm, And Reason fear'd to quit her much-lov'd helm: She calmly stemm'd Ambition's boisterous tide, And lower'd the projects of gigantic Pride: Hence unimpair'd are all my blessings now; Hence fresh my laurels blooming o'er my brow: Sage Foresight only keeps our conquests won; The too secure too surely are undone. No claimant princes shall hereafter jar, (The bloody sources of intestine war) For thus I will — both ye, my children, share Alike my fondness, and alike my care! Yet you, my eldest, to the crown succeed; 'Tis what thy father, what the gods decreed. Reflect, from whence that sacred power is given, Its fount, the grand authority of heaven! Reflect, that monarchs only were design'd To guard their people, and to bless mankind! Each royal mandate Equity should bound, And Goodness cast a smile on all around. Nor less, whilst, hovering o'er th' embattled field, Her palms to thee fond Victory shall yield, Let Mercy plead: no hero's truly brave Without that god-like principle — To save: Distress should bid our generous pity flow; Whilst Nature softens at another's woe. By me releas'd, O! how the Jewish choir To Sion's songs re-tun'd the sacred lyre, Which by the streams of Babylon, unstrung, In late sad silence on the willows hung! Dismiss'd with presents to their old abode, To build the temple of their much-lov'd God, Each mouth was full of laughter long unknown; The joy, that sill'd their hearts, o'erflow'd my own. Thy breast, young prince, let all these virtues fire, And nobly to the world confess thy sire. This happy state, that, from an heavenly plan, Forms every scheme of happiness to man, By justice 'stablish, and by arms defend; No feuds embroil, and no divisions rend! Transmit entire, to bless the peaceful home Of nations now unborn, and monarchs yet to come. And thou, my son, thou youngest, shalt command The narrower confines of some neighbouring land. Tho' larger realms thy brother's sway confess, Thy peace is greater, as thy kingdom less. Ambition's spur still pungent to the soul, When o'er his mind his father's glories roll; Pursuing close up Labour's craggy steep, Fame hard to gain, and harder yet to keep; Foremost in cares, as first in rule to shine; These, these are his — but pleasures all are thine. And weak, Cambyses, will thy kingdom prove, Without the scepter of thy people's love. But yet it asks thy caution, all thy care, Thy subjects when to court, and when beware: Not true by nature, man, whate'er he boast, Most saithful seeming, may deceive the most. Be thine the well-try'd statesman, prudent, just, Unsway'd by lucre, unenslav'd by lust; Who public good prefers to private ends, Whose truth directs you, and whose zeal defends. Then no sad murmurs can suspicion raise; Admiring Anarchy itself obeys; Base Treason dreads infernal plots to lay, And calm'd Rebellion looks her rage away. This once, O Daniel, was thy god-like part, Thy head as learn'd, as was sincere thy heart. Tho' sullen Jealousy oft curs'd thy name, And Envy plann'd the ruins of thy fame, Thy spotless honour cou'd the mouth defy Of deadly lions, or the deadlier spy. Chiefs, such as thou, best guard each prince's cause, Whom conscience binds, and whom religion awes. Thy friends promote, thy brother first of these, Advancing most his honour, interest, ease; So shall his soul with kindred passions burn, And grateful friendship make the best return; Faithful alike his counsels and his arms, When peace shall bless you, or when war alarms. But, O! if where respect her balms should bring, Pride rears her crest, and Envy's adders sting; If royal brothers, when some fiend inspires, When Anger prompts, or when Ambition fires, Divide themselves, and with imperious awe Their people's hearts to different factions draw; Then soon will Peace, that guardian Goddess, fail, And injur'd Justice drop her equal scale; Faith, heavenly guest, forsake her wonted stand, And Truth indignant flee the guilty land; In Concord's temple wild Contention reign, And madning Fury clank her broken chain; Her rights sequester'd Freedom shall deplore, And Mercy's grand asylum be no more. O! then, my sons, by that great God above! By silial duty! by paternal love! Let sacred Friendship with you ever grow, The best of blessings earth contains below. Nor think, when this poor life away shall flee, Your royal father never more must be. Tho' in our breast the soul's unseen, 'tis clear A soul immortal has existence there. Or whence has Action its energic spring? Or whence, Reflection, thy excursive wing? Whence all the dreadful scene of Horror spread Around the trembling murderer's guilty head? Or why does thus, when mortals dare to sin, Vindictive Conscience ply the lash within? Why o'er the grave those glaring trophies blaze? Why all the pomp of monumental praise? Vain were the lofty Muse's epic strain, Vain the sad dirge, the rising column vain, If human souls mortality must share, And at the last but vanish into air. Our thirst for Truth, which cannot here abate, Points out some clearer, some more perfect state; Whilst longing Hope still bids us calmly die, And take our fair possession of the sky. See Innocence with various cares distress'd, Unfed, uncloath'd, unmansion'd, and oppress'd! See modest Worth, 'midst troubles undeserv'd! Admir'd, repuls'd! just pity'd, prais'd, and starv'd! Yet still rejoice the sons of virtuous Woe, Tho' prosperous Vice triumphant reigns below; On Honour's mount tho' glares the perjur'd chief, They walk contented thro' the vale of grief! — It must be so — what Reasoner can believe, That souls, when freed from bodies, cease to live? Let Age the weak corporeal frame destroy, The soul survives — this, this can never die: Whilst that inactive moulders in the tomb, This still shall flourish in immortal bloom, Purg'd from all earthly dross, for ever rove Thro' all th' unbounded tracts of happiness above. When drowsy slumbers o'er the spirits creep, Reflect, what Death is, from its image, Sleep! In airy dreams the soul then wings its way, Freed from the dull impediments of clay, Holds converse sweet with every kindred power, In myrtle grove, or amaranthin bower; Thro' worlds unknown quick darts the vital flame, And traverses all heaven, from whence it came. But yet if, with the body, rigid Fate The soul's existence should annihilate, (How, when fond thoughts the pleasing theme pursue, Does anxious Doubt thus terminate the view!) Yet still to God let pure devotion rise, All-powerful, just, all-merciful and wise; Whose piercing eye each secret fraud detects; Whose wisdom governs, and whose care directs; That Time, nor Fate hath in confusion hurl'd The beauty, order, grandeur of the world. Hence, where some mountain, awful to the sight, Rears its rude summit to yon realms of light, Let humble prayer, propitiating the sky, The body prostrate, or uplift the eye; There glad thanksgiving grateful altars raise! There choral Paeans swell the song of praise! Let no Corruption near thy palace spread, Nor dire Oppression rear her iron head. There heaven-born virtues shall attract the sight, Peace, Love, and Charity, divinely bright; There Bounty, guided by Discretion's hand, Shall deal her favours to a grateful land: There Truth shall smile, in awful state enshrin'd, The fair resemblance of th' eternal mind, There Mercy shall vouchsafe her milder word; There Justice brandish her impartial sword, Shall right the injur'd, and the weak defend, Each orphan's guardian, and each widow's friend. Pursue, great prince, pursue th' important plan; Be fear'd, as monarch; but be lov'd, as man. And when my soul, fair tenant, flies away From this frail mansion mouldering to decay, No costly pile with funeral grandeur burn, Nor cull my ashes for the pompous urn; Far other honours let these relics have, The low-delv'd chamber of some silent grave: Where, when our gloomy long abode we fix, The human particles with earthly mix, Whilst beyond fate, and fortune's farthest line, For ever lives the particle divine. Yet make my tomb to future ages known, And with a modest verse inscribe the stone: The verse shall preach some moral truth to man — "That fortune's various, or that life's a span; " That vain the pomp and pageantry of state, "That weak the mighty, and that frail the great; " Grandeur a bubble! honours empty all! "That heroes perish, and that monarchs fall." And now, my friends, receive the parting view! Press my chill'd hand, and bid the last adieu! Call my dear Persians round the solemn bier, And you, my fellow-soldiers, you be there! With me who brav'd Arabia's pathless lands, Bleak Scythia's coasts, and India's burning sands; While strew'd on heaps around the foaming steed, Or groan'd th' Assyrian, or expir'd the Mede. Brave troops! by whom, as heaven protecting led, Great Croesus fell, and proud Belshazzar bled. But now, frail Health, how wan thy roses seem! In flower currents flows the purple stream: No more this breast with martial rage shall glow, Nor rush all vengeance on the adverse foe; No more this arm the flaming faulchion wield, Or gather laurels from the well-fought field; No more — for see the dire disease prevail, My nerves all tremble, all my spirits fail! — Ah, why those cries? see lovely Reason near To calm the soul, and wipe off every tear, O! rather all your wonted joys renew! If life I leave, I leave its troubles too: For, if my happy soul to God ascends, Or in mere nothing if my being ends, Death soon shall waft me to some unknown shore, Where labours end, and sorrows are no more: Where patriot heroes in the peaceful shade No factions threaten, and no foes invade; Where long oblivion, ending anxious strife, Stills the wild hurry of a noisy life; Or where all joys with heart-felt ease abound, Whilst youthful spring for ever blooms around. Come then, dear pledges of connubial joy, Come, give the fond embrace, and let me die; Next, to your mother all this scene impart; How will it wound, sad tale! her tender heart! Her heart by grief too delicately mov'd, For ever loving, and for ever lov'd. Ah! now what ease employs her softer hours, Near murmuring fountains, or in cooling bowers At Susa's royal court? what princely care Far from her dying lord detains my fair? Where now that tongue, that never ceas'd to charm? Where the soft smile, that sickness could disarm? Or where the hands my weary eyes to close, The last kind office in my last repose? How oft I nam'd her with my latest breath, How bless'd her absent, in the midst of death, Ye conscious skies, ye lights celestial, tell! Farewel, O loveliest of thy sex, farewel! Farewel, my chiefs! in my example see What monarch, general, patriot, friend, should be.