ISIS. AN ELEGY. MDCCXLVIII. William Mason Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
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Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T116245 1122 K093079.001 Pearch, G. A collection of poems in four volumes. By several hands. Vol. I. [The second edition]. London printed for G. Pearch 1770 pp. 200-204. 4v. ; 8⁰.

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ISIS . AN ELEGY . MDCCXLVIII . BY THE SAME . FAR from her hallow'd grot , where mildly bright , The pointed crystals shot their trembling light , From dripping moss , where sparkling dew-drops fell , Where coral glow'd , where twin'd the wreathed shell , Pale Isis lay ; a willow's lowly shade Spread its thin foliage o'er the sleeping maid ; Clos'd was her eye , and from her heaving breast In careless folds loose flow'd her zoneless vest ; While down her neck her vagrant tresses flow , In all the awful negligence of woe ; Her urn sustain'd her arm , that sculptur'd vase Where Vulcan's art had lavish'd all its grace ; Here , full with life , was heaven-taught Science seen , Known by the laurel wreath , and musing mien : There cloud-crown'd Fame , here Peace sedate and bland , Swell'd the loud trump , and wav'd the olive wand ; While solemn domes , arch'd shades , and vistas green , At well-mark'd distance close the sacred scene . On this the Goddess cast an anxious look , Then dropt a tender tear , and thus she spoke : Yes , I could once with pleas'd attention trace The mimic charms of this prophetic vase ; Then lift my head , and with enraptur'd eyes View on you plain the real glories rise . Yes , Isis ! oft hast thou rejoic'd to lead Thy liquid treasures o'er yon favourite mead ; Oft hast thou stopt thy pearly car to gaze , While every Science nurs'd its growing bays ; While every Youth with fame's strong impulse fir'd , Prest to the goal , and at the goal untir'd , Snatch'd each celestial wreath , to bind his brow , The Muses , Graces , Virtues could bestow . Ev'n now fond Fancy leads th' ideal train , And ranks her troops on Memory's ample plain ; See ! the firm leaders of my patriot line , See ! Sidney , Raleigh , Hampden , Somers shine . See Hough , superior to a tyrant's doom , Smile at the menace of the slave of Rome : Each soul whom truth could fire , or virtue move , Each breast , strong panting with its country's love , All that to Albion gave the heart or head , That wisely counsell'd , or that bravely bled , All , all appear ; on me they grateful smile , The well-earn'd prize of every virtuous toil To me with filial reverence they bring , And hang fresh trophies o'er my honour'd spring . Ah ! I remember well you beachen spray , There Addison first tun'd his polish'd lay ; 'Twas there great Cato's form first met his eye , In all the pomp of free-born majesty ; " My son , he cry'd , observe this mien with awe , " In solemn lines the strong resemblance draw ; " The piercing notes shall strike each British ear ; " Each British eye shall drop the patriot tear ! " And rous'd to glory by the nervous strain , " Each youth shall spurn at Slavery's abject reign , " Shall guard with Cato's zeal Britannia's laws , " And speak , and act , and bleed in Freedom's cause . " The hero spoke ; the bard assenting bow'd , The lay to Liberty and Cato flow'd ; While Echo , as she rov'd the vale along , Join'd the strong cadence of his Roman song . But ah ! how Stillness slept upon the ground , How mute Attention check'd each rising sound ; Scarce stole a breeze to wave the leafy spray , Scarce thrill'd sweet Philomel her softest lay , When Locke walk'd musing forth ; ev'n now I view Majestic Wisdom thron'd upon his brow , View Candor smile upon his modest cheek , And from his eye all Judgment's radiance break . 'Twas here the Sage his manly zeal exprest , Here stript vain Falshood of her gaudy vest ; Here Truth's collected beams first fill'd his mind , Ere long to burst in blessings on mankind ; Ere long to shew to Reason's purged eye , That " Nature's first best gift was Liberty . " Proud of this wond'rous son , sublime I stood , ( While louder surges swell'd my rapid flood ) Then vain as Niobe , exulting cry'd , Ilissus ! roll thy fam'd Athenian tide ; Tho' Plato's steps oft mark'd thy neighb'ring glade , Tho' fair Lycaeum lent its awful shade , Tho' every academic green imprest Its image full on thy reflecting breast , Yet my pure stream shall boast as proud a name , And Britain's Isis flow with Attic fame . Alas ! how chang'd ! where now that Attic boast ! See ! Gothic Licence rage o'er all my coast ! See ! Hydra Faction spread its impious reign , Poison each breast , and madden every brain : Hence frontless crowds , that not content to fright The blushing Cynthia from her throne of night , Blast the fair face of day ; and madly bold , To Freedom's foes infernal orgies hold ; To Freedom's foes , ah ! see the goblet crown'd , Hear plausive shouts to Freedom's foes resound ; The horrid notes my refluent waters daunt , The Echoes groan , the Dryads quit their haunt ; Learning , that once to all diffus'd her beam , Now sheds , by stealth ; a partial private gleam , In some lone cloister's melancholy shade , Where a firm few support her fickly head , Despis'd , insulted by the barbarous train , Who scour like Thracia's moon-struck rout the plain , Sworn foes like them to all the Muse approves , All Phoebus favours , or Minerva loves . Are these the sons my fostering breast must rear , Grac'd with my name , and nurtur'd by my care ? Must these go forth from my maternal hand To deal their insults thro' a peaceful land , And boast while Freedom bleeds , and Virtue groans , That " Isis taught rebellion to her sons . " Forbid it , Heaven ! and let my rising waves Indignant swell , and whelm the recreant slaves ! In England's cause their patriot floods employ , As Xanthus delug'd in the cause of Troy . Is this deny'd ? then point some secret way Where far , far hence these guiltless streams may stray ; Some unknown channel lend , where Nature spreads Inglorious vales , and unfrequented meads , There , where a hind scarce tunes his rustic strain , Where scarce a pilgrim treads the pathless plain , Content I'll flow ; forget that e'er my tide Saw yon majestic structures crown its side ; Forget , that e'er my rapt attention hung Or on the Sage's or the Poet's tongue ; Calm and resign'd my humbler lot embrace , And pleas'd , prefer Oblivion to Disgrace .