GRAY. 1716-1771. PRINCIPAL WORKS :—Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College, 1747.— Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard (the best known and most popular of all his poems), 1749.—A Hymn to Adversity.—Pindaric Odes, comprising The Progress of Poesy and The Bard, 1757. The poetry of Gray,' says a writer in Chambers' Cyclopedia of English Literature, 'is all comprised in a few pages, yet he appears worthy to rank in quality with the first order of poets. His two great odes, The Progress of Poesy and The Bard, are the most splendid compositions we possess in the Pindaric style and measure . . . . As a poet, Gray studied in the school of the ancient Greek and Italian poets, labouring like an artist to infuse part of their spirit, their melody, and even some of their expressions, into his inimitable mosaic work, over which he breathed the life and fragrance of eternal spring. In his country tours [referring to his highly picturesque Letters] the poet carried with him a plano-convex mirror which, in surveying landscapes, gathers into one confined glance the forms and tints of the surrounding scene. His imagination performed a similar operation in collecting, fixing, and appropriating the materials of poetry. All is bright, natural, and interesting-rich or magnificent-but it is seen but for a moment. . . . . Had his situation and circumstances been different, the genius of this accomplished and admirable post would in all probability have expanded, so as to embrace subjects of wider and more varied interest— of greater length and diversity of character. As it is, his odes will be chiefly read and appreciated by those only who are well acquainted with and appreciate the fire and spirit of the old Hellenic lyric poetry. The Elegy, on the other hand, appeals to the sympathies of all readers of taste and feeling. Hence it is that production upon which the fame of Gray will always most widely rest. HYMN TO ADVERSITY. DAUGHTER of Jove, relentless power, Whose iron scourge and torturing hour Bound in thy adamantine chain, The proud are taught to taste of pain, With pangs unfelt before, unpitied, and alone. When first thy sire to send on earth Virtue, his darling child, design'd, And bade thee form her infant mind. What sorrow was, thou bad'st her know, And from her own, she learn'd to melt at others' woe. Scared at thy frown terrific, fly Self-pleasing Folly's idle brood, Wild Laughter, Noise, and thoughtless Joy, And leave us leisure to be good. Light they disperse, and with them go The summer friend, the flattering foe! By vain Prosperity received, To her they vow their truth, and are again believed. Wisdom, in sable garb array'd, Immersed in rapturous thought profound, And Melancholy, silent maid, With leaden eye that loves the ground,* Still on thy solemn steps attend; Warm Charity, the general friend, With Justice, to herself severe, And Pity, dropping soft the sadly-pleasing tear. * Compare the original of the ideas and epithets of these last verses in Il Penseroso. Oh! gently on thy suppliant's head, Dread Goddess, lay thy chastening hand! Nor circled with the vengeful band (As by the impious thou art seen), With thundering voice, and threatening mien, With screaming Horror's funeral cry, Despair, and fell Disease, and ghastly Poverty. Thy form benign, O Goddess, wear, Thy philosophic train be there, To soften, not to wound my heart. The generous spark extinct revive, Exact my own defects to scan, What others are to feel, and know myself a man. THE PROGRESS OF POESY.* A PINDARIC ODE. I.-1. AWAKE, Æolian lyre, awake, And give to rapture all thy trembling strings. A thousand rills their mazy progress take: * To fully understand the inspiration of this splendid Ode it is necessary to read the Triumphal Odes (unfortunately the only remains) of the Great Master of the lyre-Pindar, with whom his English disciple is not unworthy to rank. Now the rich stream of Music winds along, Through verdant vales, and Ceres' golden reign: Headlong, impetuous, see it pour! The rocks and nodding groves rebellow to the roar. I.-2. Oh! Sovereign of the willing soul, And frantic Passions hear thy soft control. And dropt his thirsty lance, at thy command. Of Jove, thy magic lulls the feather'd king The terror of his beak, and lightning of his eye. I.-3. Thee, the voice, the dance, obey, Temper'd to thy warbled lay. O'er Idalia's velvet green The rosy-crowned Loves are seen, On Cytherea's day, With antic Sports, and blue-eyed Pleasures, Now pursuing, now retreating, Now in circling troops they meet: To brisk notes in cadence beating, Glance their many-twinkling feet. T Slow melting strains their Queen's approach declare; In gliding state she wins her easy way; The bloom of young Desire, and purple light of Love. II.-1. Man's feeble race what ills await! Labour and Penury, the racks of Pain, Disease, and Sorrow's weeping train, And Death, sad refuge from the storms of Fate! The fond complaint, my song, disprove, And justify the laws of Jove. Say, has he given in vain the heavenly Muse? Night, and all her sickly dews, Her spectres wan, and birds of boding cry, He gives to range the dreary sky: Till down the eastern cliffs afar Hyperion's march they spy, and glittering shafts of war. II.-2. In climes beyond the solar road, Where shaggy forms o'er ice-built mountains roam, To cheer the shivering native's dull abode. And oft, beneath the odorous shade Of Chili's boundless forests laid, She deigns to hear the savage youth repeat, In loose numbers wildly sweet, Their feather-cinctured chiefs, and dusky loves. Her track, where'er the goddess roves, Glory pursues, and generous Shame, The unconquerable Mind, and Freedom's holy flame. |