THE CASTLE OF INDOLENCE:

An Allegorical Poem.

ADVERTISEMENT.

THIS poem being writ in the manner of Spenser, the obsolete words, and a simplicity of diction in some of the lines which borders on the ludicrous, were necessary to make the imitation more perfect. And the style of that admirable poet, as well as the measure in which he wrote, are, as it were, appropriated by custom to all allegorical poems writ in our language; just as in French the style of Marot, who lived under Francis I., has been used in tales and familiar epistles by the politest writers of the age of Louis XIV.

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EXPLANATION OF THE OBSOLETE WORDS USED IN THIS POEM.

THE CASTLE OF INDOLENCE.

CANTO I.

The Castle hight of Indolence,
And its false luxury;
Where for a little time, alas!
We liv'd 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 wail,
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,

With woody hill o'er hill encompass'd round,

A most enchanting wizard did abide,

Than whom a fiend more fell is nowhere 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 caréd ev'n for play.

III.

Was naught around but images of rest: Sleep-soothing groves, and quiet lawns between ; And flowery beds, that slumbrous influence kest, From poppies breath'd; and beds of pleasant green, Where never yet was creeping creature seen. Meantime unnumber'd glittering streamlets play'd, And hurled everywhere their waters sheen; That, as they bicker'd through the sunny glade, 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 inclinéd all to sleep.

Full in the passage of the vale, above,

A sable, silent, solemn forest stood;

Where naught but shadowy forms were seen to move,

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 smackt of noyance, or unrest,
Was far, far off expell'd from this delicious nest.

VII.

The landscape such, inspiring perfect ease,
Where Indolence (for so the wizard hight)
Close-hid his castle mid embow'ring 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 plac'd; 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 chanc'd to breathe on neighbouring hill,
The freshness of this valley smote their eye,

And drew them ever and anon more nigh;

Till clustering round th' enchanter false they hung,
Ymolten with his syren melody;

While o'er th' enfeebling lute his hand he flung,

And to the trembling chords these tempting verses sung: