PREFACE ΤΟ THE MINSTREL. THE design was, to trace the progress of a poetical Genius, born in a rude age, from the first dawning of fancy and reason, till that period at which he may be supposed capable of appearing in the world as a Minstrel, that is, an itinerant Poet and Musician::—a character which, according to the notions of our forefathers, was not only respectable, but sacred. I have endeavoured to imitate Spenser in the measure of his verse, and in the harmony, simplicity, and variety of his composition. Antique expressions I have avoided; admitting, however, some old words, where they seemed to suit the subject: but I hope none will be found that are now obsolete, or in any degree not intelligible to a reader of English poetry. To those who may be disposed to ask, what could induce me to write in so difficult a measure, 1 can only answer, that it pleases my ear, and VOL. XXXII. C seems, from its Gothic structure and original, to bear some relation to the subject and spirit of the Poem. It admits both simplicity and magnificence of sound and of language, beyond any other stanza that I am acquainted with. It allows the sententiousness of the couplet, as well as the more complex modulation of blank verse. What some critics have remarked, of its uniformity growing at last tiresome to the ear, will be found to hold true only when the poetry is faulty in other respects. THE MINSTREL: OR, THE PROGRESS OF GENIUS. Me vero primum dulces ante omnia Musæ, BOOK I. VIRG. I. AH! who can tell how hard it is to climb The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar; In life's low vale remote has pin'd alone, II. And yet, the languor of inglorious days Him, who ne'er listen'd to the voice of praise, There are, who deaf to mad Ambition's call, Would shrink to hear the' obstreperous trump of Fame; Supremely bless'd, if to their portion fall Health, competence, and peace. Nor higher aim Had he whose simple tale these artless lines proclaim. III. The rolls of fame I will not now explore; Nor need I here describe in learned lay, How forth the Minstrel far'd in days of yore, Right glad of heart, though homely in array; His waving locks and beard all hoary grey: While from his bending shoulder, decent hung His harp, the sole companion of his way, Which to the whistling wind responsive rung; And ever, as he went, some merry lay he sung. IV. Fret not thyself, thou glittering child of pride, Enraptur'd roams, to gaze on Nature's charms : V. Though richest hues the peacock's plumes adorn, To please a tyrant, strain the little bill, But sing what heaven inspires, and wander where [they will. VI. Liberal, not lavish, is kind Nature's hand; There plague and poison, lust and rapine grow: Here peaceful are the vales, and pure the skies, And freedom fires the soul, and sparkles in the eyes. VII. Then grieve not, thou, to whom the' indulgent Muse Vouchsafes a portion of celestial fire; Nor blame the partial Fates, if they refuse The' imperial banquet, and the rich attire: Know thine own worth, and reverence the lyre. Wilt thou debase the heart which God refin'd? No; let thy heaven-taught soul to heaven aspire, To fancy, freedom, harmony, resign'd; Ambition's grovelling crew for ever left behind. |