Poems (Holford)/Ode to Genius
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ODE TO GENIUS.
WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1805.
INSCRIBED TO THE YOUNG ROSCIUS.
Whence is that pow'r, whose awful magic call,
Imperious bids the astonish'd world attend,
Before whose shrine adoring myriads fall,
To whom the hero, sage, and monarch bend;
Whose touch has force to chain the rebel mind,
To teach the Critic's torpid heart to feel,
Silence the snakes round Envy's brow entwin'd,
And bid the tear from sullen eye-balls steal?
'Tis Genius, rushing from his native sky,
Lord of the kindling soul, and brightly-beaming eye!
Imperious bids the astonish'd world attend,
Before whose shrine adoring myriads fall,
To whom the hero, sage, and monarch bend;
Whose touch has force to chain the rebel mind,
To teach the Critic's torpid heart to feel,
Silence the snakes round Envy's brow entwin'd,
And bid the tear from sullen eye-balls steal?
'Tis Genius, rushing from his native sky,
Lord of the kindling soul, and brightly-beaming eye!
Oh, Genius! who can bear thy solar blaze,
Nor dazzled shrink, by too much splendour blind?
Yet lo! thy wildest, warmest, fiercest rays,
Fling their untemper'd radiance on the mind
Of feeble infancy! thy lightnings play
With mystic lustre round an infant's brow;
On his clear'd vision breaks unclouded day,
And his rapt soul receives the quick'ning glow;
Throbs his young breast, wild rolls his sparkling eye,
And all his form betrays the inspiring deity!
Nor dazzled shrink, by too much splendour blind?
Yet lo! thy wildest, warmest, fiercest rays,
Fling their untemper'd radiance on the mind
Of feeble infancy! thy lightnings play
With mystic lustre round an infant's brow;
On his clear'd vision breaks unclouded day,
And his rapt soul receives the quick'ning glow;
Throbs his young breast, wild rolls his sparkling eye,
And all his form betrays the inspiring deity!
Lo! where he soars; Experience, far behind,
Astonish'd views the wondrous infant range
The mighty empire of mysterious mind,
Tracing its vast recesses, dark and strange!
And see, the Passions, an infuriate crew,
Rush on his sight!—he smiles to see them rage—
His fancy sports 'mid visions wild and new,
The great, the sad, the terrible, engage
Each tranced sense!—behold his hand he rears,
Tears Time's all covering veil, and leaps the mound of years!
Astonish'd views the wondrous infant range
The mighty empire of mysterious mind,
Tracing its vast recesses, dark and strange!
And see, the Passions, an infuriate crew,
Rush on his sight!—he smiles to see them rage—
His fancy sports 'mid visions wild and new,
The great, the sad, the terrible, engage
Each tranced sense!—behold his hand he rears,
Tears Time's all covering veil, and leaps the mound of years!
And dares an eye, just open'd on the light,
Search the black tablet of the villain's soul;
With mad ambition climb the dizzy height,
Or headlong down the gulph of danger roll?
And can that ear where childhood's lullaby
Has scarcely ceas'd to hum its sleepy sound,
List unappall'd to horror's midnight cry,
When murder bids the death-shriek echo round?
And can the brow youth's greenest garland binds,
Beam with th' unutter'd thoughts, that swell a thousand minds!
Search the black tablet of the villain's soul;
With mad ambition climb the dizzy height,
Or headlong down the gulph of danger roll?
And can that ear where childhood's lullaby
Has scarcely ceas'd to hum its sleepy sound,
List unappall'd to horror's midnight cry,
When murder bids the death-shriek echo round?
And can the brow youth's greenest garland binds,
Beam with th' unutter'd thoughts, that swell a thousand minds!
And may it be, that sounds so widely felt,
Can from the lisping tongue of childhood flow!
Oh! Genius! canst thou bid a nation melt
In anguish o'er an infant's mimic woe?
See! from his lab'ring breast the expiring pang
Heaves its quick-throb! what death-like stillness reigns,
While breathless crowds in mute amazement hang,
The freezing stream scarce moving in their veins!
And ah! he dies!—grief claims the transient pause,
Then yields a people's voice the thunder of applause!
Can from the lisping tongue of childhood flow!
Oh! Genius! canst thou bid a nation melt
In anguish o'er an infant's mimic woe?
See! from his lab'ring breast the expiring pang
Heaves its quick-throb! what death-like stillness reigns,
While breathless crowds in mute amazement hang,
The freezing stream scarce moving in their veins!
And ah! he dies!—grief claims the transient pause,
Then yields a people's voice the thunder of applause!
Children of Genius, on that lasting page
Where ne'er oblivion's chilling fingers rest,
Your names shall dwell thro' many an after age,
When long, life's scene has clos'd upon the breast!
When wealth and pow'r, of short-liv'd honours proud,
Their pageant play'd, obey the general doom,
Mix unrecorded with the mouldering crowd,
And never stranger footstep seeks their tomb,
Borne on the breath of Memory's warmest sigh
Your name shall float thro' time to dim futurity![1]
Where ne'er oblivion's chilling fingers rest,
Your names shall dwell thro' many an after age,
When long, life's scene has clos'd upon the breast!
When wealth and pow'r, of short-liv'd honours proud,
Their pageant play'd, obey the general doom,
Mix unrecorded with the mouldering crowd,
And never stranger footstep seeks their tomb,
Borne on the breath of Memory's warmest sigh
Your name shall float thro' time to dim futurity![1]
- ↑ This Poem was written early in the year 1805, when the Young Roscius made his first appearance in London; thither it was sent to him by the author, who had seen him in his favorite characters at the Chester theatre; the author likewise sent it to Miss Seward, from whom two years subsequent she received a letter inclosing a copy of the lines on the same subject inserted in the collection of poems lately edited by Mr. Scott; she now thinks it expedient to mention this circumstance to prevent a suspicion of plagiarism, though in all probability the letter to which she alludes makes one of the series in the possession of Mr. Constable, and promised to the public.