PUBLISHED FEB. 1, 1825: BY JOHN SHARPE, LONDON.

THE

CASTLE OF INDOLENCE.

CANTO I.

The castle height of Indolence,
And its false luxury;
Where for a little time, alas!
We lived right jollily.

I.

O MORTAL man, who livest here by toil, Do not complain of this thy hard estate; That like an emmet thou must ever moil, Is a sad sentence of an ancient date; And, certes, there is for it reason great; For, though sometimes it makes thee weep and And curse thy star, and early drudge and late; Withouten that would come an heavier bale, Loose life, unruly passions, and diseases pale.

II.

In lowly dale, fast by a river's side,

[wail,

With woody hill o'er hill encompass'd round,
A most enchanting wizard did abide,

Than whom a fiend more fell is no where found.
It was, I ween, a lovely spot of ground;

And there a season atween June and May,

Half prankt with spring, with summer half imbrown'd,

A listless climate made, where, sooth to say, No living wight could work, ne cared ev'n for play.

III.

Was nought around but images of rest:
Sleep-soothing groves, and quiet lawns between ;
And flowery beds that slumberous influence kest,
From poppies breathed; and beds of pleasant
green,

Where never yet was creeping creature seen. Meantime, unnumber'd glittering streamlets play'd,

And hurled every-where their waters sheen; That, as they bicker'd through the sunny shade, Though restless still themselves, a lulling murmur made.

IV.

Join'd to the prattle of the purling rills, Were heard the lowing herds along the vale, And flocks loud-bleating from the distant hills, And vacant shepherds piping in the dale: And, now and then, sweet Philomel would wail, Or stock-doves plain amid the forest deep, That drowsy rustled to the sighing gale; And still a coil the grasshopper did keep; Yet all these sounds yblent inclined all to sleep.

V.

Full in the passage of the vale, above,
A sable, silent, solemn forest stood;

[move,

Where nought but shadowy forms was seen to As Idless fancied in her dreaming mood:

And up the hills, on either side, a wood Of blackening pines, aye waving to and fro, Sent forth a sleepy horror through the blood; And where this valley winded out, below, The murmuring main was heard, and scarcely heard, to flow.

VI.

A pleasing land of drowsy-head it was,

Of dreams that wave before the half-shut eye; And of gay castles in the clouds that pass, For ever flushing round a summer-sky: There eke the soft delights, that witchingly Instil a wanton sweetness through the breast, And the calm pleasures always hover'd nigh; But whate'er smack'd of noyance, or unrest, Was far, far off expell'd from this delicious nest.

VII.

The landskip such, inspiring perfect ease, Where Indolence (for so the wizard hight) Close-hid his castle 'mid embowering trees, That half shut out the beams of Phoebus bright, And made a kind of checker'd day and night; Meanwhile, unceasing at the massy gate, Beneath a spacious palm, the wicked wight Was placed; and to his lute, of cruel fate And labour harsh, complain'd, lamenting man's

estate.

VIII.

Thither continual pilgrims crowded still,
From all the roads of earth that pass there by :
For, as they chaunced to breathe on neighbouring

hill,

The freshness of this valley smote their eye,
And drew them ever and anon more nigh;
Till clustering round the enchanter false they
Ymolten with his syren melody;

[hung, While o'er the enfeebling lute his hand he flung, And to the trembling chords these tempting verses sung: