Scotish Descriptive Poems/Dedication of Albania to General Wade, by the original Editor
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ANALYSIS
OF THE
DEDICATION OF ALBANIA.
Address to General Wade—Sentiments which inspire the poet—Local attachment not affected by climate or soil; but true patriotism inspired only by liberty—Apostrophe to liberty—Progress of the fine arts dependent on liberty—Address to the sons of Albania—Their future progress in the arts of civilized life under the influence of liberty.
TO GENERAL WADE,
Commander in Chief of his Majesty's Forces in North
Britain.
Howe'er important in the high debate;
Where Britain's councils watch o'er Europe's fate;
From public cares, one easy moment spare,
And let a muse the kind indulgence share.
True, that in lonely groves she tuned the lay,
Far from the great, the giddy and the gay;
By power unawed, by venal views unswayed,
No foe she flattered, and no friend betrayed:
Yet shall her note each generous bosom move,
Where throbs a pang for virtue, fame, or love; 10
Since deep-felt passion strikes the tuneful strings,
And nature whispers what the poet sings.
Nought, nought, for this exalting suns avail,
The cloudless ether, or the spicy gale,
For parent foil as strong sensation beats,
Midst joyless wilds, as aromatic seats;
Thence to the muse, the sacred spirit springs,
That swells her numbers, and her rapture wings;
Thence, for his Rome, the Roman smiled on death,
And to the Scythian blooms his barren heath: 20
It creeps, an instinct in the dastard Nave,
And glows, a passion in the free and brave;
It gives the vile to bear a tyrant's thrall,
No wrongs can rouse them, for no chains can gall:
But to the brave, no charms a clime can boast,
Where virtue or where liberty is lost.
O liberty! thou life-enlivening name,
Thy forms how varying, yet thy powers the same!
From thee the fields assume their smiling face,
The notes their music, and the paint its grace. 30
Thine are the plastic arts that mould the bust,
And breathe its beauties o'er the dome august;
Is there a bard who feels thy just controul?
The muse pours all her godhead on his soul;
She prompts the sigh, she swells the impassioned gush,
Glows in his warmth, and reddens in his blush;
The blush, that o'er an honest cheek streams fair,
When mortals hug the shameful chains they wear.
These arts, O goddess! brighten from thy ray,
By thee they flourish, and with thee decay; 40
To Athens, these her truest glory gave
To Rome,—ere Romans conquered to enslave.
But in their rushing states, when public power
Propt the lewd wretch, or swelled the private store;
O'er patriot zeal, when rose ambition's lust,
And jealous justice sunk to mean distrust;
Dragged by vile lictors, where the forum raved,
When heroes bled by villains whom they saved:
Then, with the herd, the muse condemned, or praised,
And courts destroyed those arts that senates raised. 50
Albania's sons, may these examples teach,
How far the bounds of real freedom reach:
Teach them with equal vigour to engage
A faction's fury, as a tyrant's rage.
And see, where bursting from a Gothic night
Half her brave race emerges into light;
By Thee! to better being waked, they hail
Their social life, and court the peopled vale;
By Thee! her genius raised, with glad surprise
Sees cultured groves, and cheerful villas rise. 60
Pleased she beholds the golden harvests nod,
And the bold arch controul the swelling flood;
O'er wastes the traffic-crowded causeway stretch,
And spreading hedges fence the grateful beach;
A genial bloom of softer beauty blow,
Where kinder wishes teach the blush to glow,
While hardy youths resign the darling steel,
And melting, wonder at the warmth they feel.
With kind complacence, you, this verse peruse,
Though rough the numbers, and unknown the muse; 70
For soon, the boldest note her art can sound,
Shall in a people's grateful voice be drowned.
Where Britain's councils watch o'er Europe's fate;
From public cares, one easy moment spare,
And let a muse the kind indulgence share.
True, that in lonely groves she tuned the lay,
Far from the great, the giddy and the gay;
By power unawed, by venal views unswayed,
No foe she flattered, and no friend betrayed:
Yet shall her note each generous bosom move,
Where throbs a pang for virtue, fame, or love; 10
Since deep-felt passion strikes the tuneful strings,
And nature whispers what the poet sings.
Nought, nought, for this exalting suns avail,
The cloudless ether, or the spicy gale,
For parent foil as strong sensation beats,
Midst joyless wilds, as aromatic seats;
Thence to the muse, the sacred spirit springs,
That swells her numbers, and her rapture wings;
Thence, for his Rome, the Roman smiled on death,
And to the Scythian blooms his barren heath: 20
It creeps, an instinct in the dastard Nave,
And glows, a passion in the free and brave;
It gives the vile to bear a tyrant's thrall,
No wrongs can rouse them, for no chains can gall:
But to the brave, no charms a clime can boast,
Where virtue or where liberty is lost.
O liberty! thou life-enlivening name,
Thy forms how varying, yet thy powers the same!
From thee the fields assume their smiling face,
The notes their music, and the paint its grace. 30
Thine are the plastic arts that mould the bust,
And breathe its beauties o'er the dome august;
Is there a bard who feels thy just controul?
The muse pours all her godhead on his soul;
She prompts the sigh, she swells the impassioned gush,
Glows in his warmth, and reddens in his blush;
The blush, that o'er an honest cheek streams fair,
When mortals hug the shameful chains they wear.
These arts, O goddess! brighten from thy ray,
By thee they flourish, and with thee decay; 40
To Athens, these her truest glory gave
To Rome,—ere Romans conquered to enslave.
But in their rushing states, when public power
Propt the lewd wretch, or swelled the private store;
O'er patriot zeal, when rose ambition's lust,
And jealous justice sunk to mean distrust;
Dragged by vile lictors, where the forum raved,
When heroes bled by villains whom they saved:
Then, with the herd, the muse condemned, or praised,
And courts destroyed those arts that senates raised. 50
Albania's sons, may these examples teach,
How far the bounds of real freedom reach:
Teach them with equal vigour to engage
A faction's fury, as a tyrant's rage.
And see, where bursting from a Gothic night
Half her brave race emerges into light;
By Thee! to better being waked, they hail
Their social life, and court the peopled vale;
By Thee! her genius raised, with glad surprise
Sees cultured groves, and cheerful villas rise. 60
Pleased she beholds the golden harvests nod,
And the bold arch controul the swelling flood;
O'er wastes the traffic-crowded causeway stretch,
And spreading hedges fence the grateful beach;
A genial bloom of softer beauty blow,
Where kinder wishes teach the blush to glow,
While hardy youths resign the darling steel,
And melting, wonder at the warmth they feel.
With kind complacence, you, this verse peruse,
Though rough the numbers, and unknown the muse; 70
For soon, the boldest note her art can sound,
Shall in a people's grateful voice be drowned.