Poems (Holford)/Lines in imitation of the style of Beattie's Minstrel
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LINES
IN IMITATION OF THE STYLE
OF BEATTIE'S MINSTREL.
Yes, it is hard the steep ascent to climb
Whence Fame's proud structure beams upon the eye,
And well I wot, that many a son of rhyme,
Loth to give o'er, yet timorous to try,
Pours from his weary heart the anxious sigh;
Fearful he wends; for by the mountain's side
Grim satire him appals with frequent cry,
And flaps her harpy wings, while envious Pride
Mocks from his side fair Hope, his comfort and his guide!
Whence Fame's proud structure beams upon the eye,
And well I wot, that many a son of rhyme,
Loth to give o'er, yet timorous to try,
Pours from his weary heart the anxious sigh;
Fearful he wends; for by the mountain's side
Grim satire him appals with frequent cry,
And flaps her harpy wings, while envious Pride
Mocks from his side fair Hope, his comfort and his guide!
Yet, tho' the way be rude, and wild, and steep,
Tho' satire's irksome scream be in mine ear,
Yet will I toil the upward path to keep,
Inflexible amid those phantoms drear,
Envy, and lurking Hate, and Scorn severe;
For should my feet yon shining summit gain,
And should I grasp at length the prize so dear,
Oh! what were labour, weariness, and pain,
The meed, the immortal meed of glory to obtain!
Tho' satire's irksome scream be in mine ear,
Yet will I toil the upward path to keep,
Inflexible amid those phantoms drear,
Envy, and lurking Hate, and Scorn severe;
For should my feet yon shining summit gain,
And should I grasp at length the prize so dear,
Oh! what were labour, weariness, and pain,
The meed, the immortal meed of glory to obtain!
Methinks, arrived at Fame's eternal dome,
Already round my brow her leaves entwine;
Smiling, I mark how Time's o'erwhelming gloom
Steals silently o'er many a soul supine,
And feel oblivion never can be mine!
Cease soaring Thought! thy rapid pinions stay!
For sometimes Hope's frail taper will decline,
And often must I rue her wav'ring ray,
Lest it should die indeed, and fail me on my way.
Already round my brow her leaves entwine;
Smiling, I mark how Time's o'erwhelming gloom
Steals silently o'er many a soul supine,
And feel oblivion never can be mine!
Cease soaring Thought! thy rapid pinions stay!
For sometimes Hope's frail taper will decline,
And often must I rue her wav'ring ray,
Lest it should die indeed, and fail me on my way.
Oh! if to me, ye Muses, 'tis assign'd
That pinnacle to reach, attained by few,
If Fame's loud trump shall cheer this ardent mind,
And her wide prospects glitter on my view,
Yet, for one boon, one precious boon I sue!
Still, let each social, simple feeling, thrive
Within my heart, to Nature's dictates true,
Still, let affection's gentler flame survive!
Or take, ye Muses, all Ambition has to give!
That pinnacle to reach, attained by few,
If Fame's loud trump shall cheer this ardent mind,
And her wide prospects glitter on my view,
Yet, for one boon, one precious boon I sue!
Still, let each social, simple feeling, thrive
Within my heart, to Nature's dictates true,
Still, let affection's gentler flame survive!
Or take, ye Muses, all Ambition has to give!
Change, they who list, the fond maternal smile,
And friendship's honest, heart-consoling glow,
For the proud honours of yon air-built pile,
And flattery, empty food of man below;
All Pride can ask, or glory can bestow!
Yet, hear me Muses from your sacred shrine!
Oh! bid these various flow'rs together grow,
Let gentleness with radiant genius twine,
Life's mild, unenvied sweets, and glory's wreath be mine!
And friendship's honest, heart-consoling glow,
For the proud honours of yon air-built pile,
And flattery, empty food of man below;
All Pride can ask, or glory can bestow!
Yet, hear me Muses from your sacred shrine!
Oh! bid these various flow'rs together grow,
Let gentleness with radiant genius twine,
Life's mild, unenvied sweets, and glory's wreath be mine!