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Soon, where the bands in lucid rows assemble, THE HYMN.
Flutes breathe, and citherns tremble ;
Till Chitraratha sings—His painted car,
Yet unconsumed, gleams like an orient star.
Hush'd was every breezy pinion,
Every breeze his fall suspended : He wakes : he hears; he views no fancied rays;
Silence reign'd; whose sole dominion 'Tis Indra mounted on the sun's bright beam;
Soon was raised, but soon was ended. And round him revels his empyreal train :
He sings, how “whilom from the troubled main How rich their tints! how sweet their strain !
The sovereign elephant Airavan sprang: Like shooting stars around his regal seat
The breathing shell, that peals of conquest rang; A veil of many-colour'd light they weave,
The parent cow, whom none implores in vain; That eyes unholy would of sense bereave :
The milk-white steed, the bow with deafening clang Their sparkling hands and lightly-tripping feet
The goddesses of beauty, wealth, and wine :
Narayan's gem, the moonlight's tender languish ; The mystic dance they knit:
Blue venom, source of anguish ; Pursuing, circling, whirling, twining, leading,
The solemn leech, slow-moving o'er the strand, Now chasing, now receding :
A vase of long-sought Amrit in his hand. Till the gay pageant from the sky descends
“ To soften human ills dread Siva drank On charm'd Sumeru, who with homage bends.
The poisonous flood, that stain'd his azure neck; Hail, mountain of delight,
The rest thy mansions deck, Palace of glory, bless'd by glory's king!
High Swerga! stored in many a blazing rank. With prospering shade imbower me, whilst I sing
“ Thou, god of thunder! satt’st on Meru throned, Thy wonders yet unreach'd by mortal Alight.
Cloud-riding, mountain-piercing, thousand-eyed, Sky-piercing mountain! in thy bowers of love
With young Pulomaja, thy blooming bride, No tears are seen, save where medicinal stalks
Whilst air and skies thy boundless empire own'd; Weep drops balsamic o'er the silver'd walks ; No plaints are heard, save where the restless Or speaks Purander best thy martial fame,
Hall, Dyupetir, dismay to Bala's pride! dove
Or Sacra mystic name? Of coy repulse and mild reluctance talks ;
With various praise in odes and hallow'd story Mantled in woven gold, with gems enchased,
Sweet barus shall hymn thy glory. With emerald hillocks graced,
Thou, Vasava, from this unmeasured height From whose fresh laps in young fantastic mazes
Shedd'st pearl, shedd'st odours o'er the sons of Soft crystal bounds and blazes
light!" Bathing the lithe convolvulus, that winds Obsequious, and each flaunting arbour binds. The genius rested; for his powerful art
Had swell'd the monarch's heart with ardour vain, When sapient Brahma this new world approved, That threaten'd rash disdain, and seem'd to lower On woody wings eight primal mountains moved ;
On gods of loftier power and ampler reign.
He smiled ; and, warbling in a softer mode,
Sang “ the red lightning hail, and whelming rain, Dazzling the moon he rears his golden head : O'er Gocul green and Vraja's nymph-loved plain Nor bards inspired, nor heaven's all-perfect speech, By Indras hurl'd whose altars ne'er had glow'd, Less may onhallow'd rhyme his beauties teach, Since infant Crishna ruled the rustic train Or paint the pavement which th' immortals tread; Now thrill'd with terror—them the heavenly child Nor thought of man his awful height can reach: Call'd, and with looks ambrosial smiled, Who sees it, maddens; who approaches, dies; Then with one finger rear'd the vast Goverdhen, For, with flame-darting eyes,
Beneath whose rocky burden Around it roll a thousand sleepless dragons ;
On pastures dry the maids and herdsmen trod : While from their diamond flagons
The lord of thunder felt a mightier god !"
What furies potent modulation sooths !
E'en the dilated heart of Indra shrinks : This feast in memory of the churned wave His ruffled brow he smooths, Great Indra gave, when Amrit first was won His lance, half-raised, with listless languor sinks. From impious demons, who to Máyà's eyes Resign'd the prize, and rued the fight begun.
A sweeter strain the sage musician chose :
He told, how “ Sachi, soft as morning light, Now, while each ardent Cinnara persuades Blithe Sachi, from her lord, Indrani hight, The soft eyed Apsara to break the dance,
When through clear skies their car ethereal rose, And leads her loth, yet with love-beaming glance, Fix'd on a garden trim her wandering sight, To banks of marjoram and Champac shades, Where gay pomegranates, fresh with early dew, Celestial Genii toward their king advance
Vaunted their blossoms new :
[dresses (So call’d by men, in heaven Gandharvas named) 0! pluck (she said) yon gems, which nature For matchless music famed.
To grace my darker tresses.
In form a shepherd's boy, a god in soul,
Such was the vision, which-on Varan's breast, He hasten'd, and the bloomy treasure stole. Or Asi pure, with offer'd blossoms fillid
Dwaipayan slumbering saw ; (thus Nared willid ;) “The reckless peasant, who those glowing flowers, For waking eye such glory never blessid, Hopeful of rubied fruit, had foster'd long,
Nor waking ear such music ever thrillid. Seized, and with cordage strong
It vanish'd with light sleep: he, rising, praised Shackled the god who gave him showers.
The guarded mount high-raised, · Straight from seven winds immortal Genii flew,
And pray'd the thundering power, that sheafy Green Varuna, whom foamy waves obey,
treasures, Bright Vahni, flaming like the lamp of day,
Mild showers, and vernal pleasures, Cuvera, sought by all, enjoy'd by few,
The labouring youth in mead and vale might Marut, who bids the winged breezes play,
cheer, Stern Yama, ruthless judge, and Isa cold,
And cherish'd herdsmen bless th' abundant year. With Nairrit mildly bold :
Thee, darter of the swift blue bolt! he sang; They with the ruddy flash, that points his thunder, Sprinkler of genial dews and fruitful rains Rend his vain bands asunder.
O'er hills and thirsty plains ! Th' exulting god resumes his thousand eyes,
“When through the waves of war thy charger Four arms divine, and robes of changing dyes."
Each rock rebellow'd and each forest rang.
Till vanquish'd Asurs felt avenging pains.
Send o'er their seats the snake that never dies, And melted in her arms.
But wast the virtuous to thy skies !"
GEORGE CRABBE was born at Aldborough, in him successively, the living of Frome St. Quintin, Suffolk, on the 24th of December, 1754, where his in Dorsetshire, and the rectories of Muston and father and grandfather were officers of the cus- West Allington, in the diocese of Lincoln. In the toms. He received his education at a neighbour- meantime, in 1785, he published The Newspaper, ing school, where he gained a prize for one of his a poem ; followed by a complete edition of his poems, and left it with sufficient knowledge to works, in 1807, which were received with marked qualify him for an apprentice to a surgeon and and universal approbation. apothecary in his native town. His poetical taste In 1810, appeared his admirable poem of The is said to have been assisted in developing itself Borough ; in 1812, he published his Tales in Verse; by a perusal of all the scraps of verses which his and in 1819, his celebrated Tales of the Hall. He father used to tear off from different newspapers, and had, in the interim, been presented to the rectory which young Crabbe collected together, and got of Trowbridge, with the smaller benefice of Croxmost of them by heart. The attractions of the muse ton Kerryel, in Leicestershire. His only prose had probably overcome those of Æsculapius, for, on publications are a funeral sermon on one of his the completion of his apprenticeship, giving up all early noble patrons, Charles, Duke of Rutland, hope of succeeding in his profession, he deter- preached in the chapel of Belvoir Castle, in 1789 ; mined at once to quit it, and to depend for support and An Essay on the Natural History of the Vale upon his literary abilities. Accordingly, in 1778, he of Belvoir, written for Mr. Nichols' History of came to London with little more in his pocket than Leicestershire. a bundle of his best poems, and took a lodging in Mr. Crabbe died February 30, 1832, at Trowthe city, where he read and composed, but could bridge, the scene of his latest ministrations as a prevail upon no bookseller to publish. At length, Christian pastor. His parishioners, in grateful rein 1780, he ventured to print, at his own expense, membrance of his virtues and labours for their ima poem, entitled The Candidate, which was favour-provement, caused an elegant monument to be ably noticed in the Monthly Review, to the editor erected over his grave in the chancel. His chaof which it was addressed. Finding, however, that racter as a man is not less worthy of admiration, he stood no chance of success or popularity whilst than his genius as a poet. His biography, accomhe remained personally unknown, he is said to panied by a volume of posthumous poetry, have have introduced himself to Edmund Burke, who since been published by his son. received him with great kindness, and read his pro The works of Crabbe have gone through several duetions with approbation. Our author fortunately editions, and deservedly become popular; Mr. Wilfound in this gentleman both a friend and a patron; son Croker has justly observed of Crabbe, that his he took Crabbe into his house, and introduced him having taken a view of life too minute, too humito For; and, under their united auspices, appeared liating, and too painfully just, may have rendered his poem of the Library, in 1781. In the same year, his popularity less brilliant than that of some of he was ordained deacon, and in the following one, his contemporaries; though for accurate descrippriest, and, for a short time, acted as curate at tion, and deep knowledge of human nature, no Aldborough. About the same period, he entered poet of the present age is equal to him. The great his name at Trinity Hall, Cambridge, but withdrew charm of his poetry lies in his masterly treatit without graduating, although he was subsement of the most ordinary subjects, and in his quently presented with the degree of B. C. L. heart-rending but true descriptions of the scenes After residing for some time at Belvoir Castle, as which his muse delights to visit,—those of poverty chaplain to the Duke of Rutland, by the recomand distress. He depicts nature living and circum. mendation of Mr. Burke, our author was introduced stantially; and in this respect, his poetry may justly to Lord-chancellor Thurlow, who bestowed upon be compared to the painting of Teniers and Ostade.
Thus bless'd with children, friend, and wife
Bless d far beyond the vulgar lot; or all that gladdens human life,
Where was the good that I had not ? But my vile heart had sinful spot,
And heaven beheld its deepening stain ; Eternal justice I forgot,
And mercy sought not to obtain. Come near,—I'll softly speak the rest!
Alas! 'tis known to all the crowd, Her guilty love was all confess'd ;
And his who so much truth avow'd, My faithless friend's—In pleasure proud
I sat, when these cursed tidings came; Their guilt, their flight was told aloud,
And envy smiled to hear my shame! I call'd on vengeance; at the word
She came ;-Can I the deed forget ? I held the sword, th' accursed sword,
The blood of his false heart made wet; And that fair victim paid her debt,
She pined, she died, she loathed to live ;I saw her dying—see her yet :
Fair fallen thing! my rage forgive! Those cherabs still, my life to bless,
Were left; could I my fears remove, Sad fears that check'd each fond caress,
And poison'd all parental love? Yet that with jealous feelings strove,
And would at last have won my will, Had I not, wretch! been doom'd to prove
Th' extremes of mortal good and ill.
Like him, with haughty, stubborn mind,
I, in my state, my comforts sought; Delight and praise I hoped to find,
In what I builded, planted, bought! O arrogance! by misery taught,
Soon came a voice! I felt it come; “ Full be his cup, with evil fraught,
Demons his guides, and death his doom!" Then was I cast from out my state ;
Two fiends of darkness led my way; They waked me early, watch'd me late,
My dread by night, my plague by day! 0! I was made their sport, their play,
Through many a stormy troubled year; And how they used their passive prey
Is sad to tell :—but you shall hear And first, before they sent me forth,
Through this unpitying world to run. They robb'd Sir Eustace of his worth,
Lands, manors, lordships, every one ; So was that gracious man undone,
Was spurn'd as vile, was scorn'd as poor, Whom every former friend would shun,
And menials drove from every door. Then those ill-favour'd Ones,* whom none
But my unhappy eyes could view, Led me, with wild emotion, on,
And, with resistless terror, drew. Through lands we fled, o'er seas we flew,
And halted on a boundless plain : Where nothing fed, nor breathed, nor grew,
But silence ruled the still domain.