The ENTHUSIAST : OR THE LOVER of NATURE . A POEM . By the Rev. Mr. JOSEPH WARTON . Written in 1740. Rure vero barbaroque laetatur . MARTIAL . — Ut ! mihi devio Rupes , & vacuum nemus Mirari libet ! HORACE . YE green-rob'd Dryads , oft' at dusky eve By wondering shepherds seen , to forests brown , To unfrequented meads , and pathless wilds , Lead me from gardens deck'd with art's vain pomps . Can gilt alcoves , can marble-mimic gods , Parterres embroider'd , obelisks , and urns Of high relief ; can the long , spreading lake , Or vista lessening to the sight ; can Stow , With all her Attic fanes , such raptures raise , As the thrush-haunted copse , where lightly leaps The fearful fawn the rustling leaves along , And the brisk squirrel sports from bough to bough , While from an hollow oak , whose naked roots O'erhang a pensive rill , the busy bees Hum drowsy lullabies ? The bards of old , Fair Nature's friends , sought such retreats , to charm Sweet Echo with their songs ; oft' too they met In summer evenings , near sequester'd bow'rs , Or mountain-nymph , or muse , and eager learnt The moral strains she taught to mend mankind . As to a secret grot Aegeria stole With patriot Numa , and in silent night Whisper'd him sacred laws , he list'ning sat Rapt with her virtuous voice , old Tyber lean'd Attentive on his urn , and hush'd his waves . Rich in her weeping country's spoils Versailles May boast a thousand fountains , that can cast The tortur'd waters to the distant heav'ns ; Yet let me choose some pine-topt precipice Abrupt and shaggy , whence a foamy stream , Like Anio , tumbling roars ; or some black heath , Where straggling stands the mournful juniper , Or yew-tree scath'd ; while in clear prospect round , From the grove's bosom spires emerge , and smoak In bluish wreaths ascends , ripe harvests wave , Low , lonely cottages , and ruin'd tops Of Gothick battlements appear , and streams Beneath the sun-beams twinkle . — The shrill lark , That wakes the wood-man to his early task , Or love-sick Philomel , whose luscious lays Sooth lone night-wanderers , the moaning dove Pitied by listening milk-maid , far excel The deep-mouth viol , the soul-lulling lute , And battle-breathing trumpet . Artful sounds ! That please not like the choristers of air , When first they hail th' approach of laughing May . Can Kent design like Nature ? Mark where Thames Plenty and pleasure pours thro' The earl of Lincoln's terrace at Weybridge in Surrey . Lincoln's meads ; Can the great artist , tho' with taste supreme Endu'd , one beauty to this Eden add ? Tho' he , by rules unfetter'd , boldly scorns Formality and Method , round and square Disdaining , plans irregularly great . Creative Titian , can thy vivid strokes , Or thine , O graceful Raphael , dare to vie With the rich tints that paint the breathing mead ? The thousand-colour'd tulip , violet's bell Snow-clad and meek , the vermil-tinctur'd rose , And golden crocus ? — Yet with these the maid , Phillis or Phoebe at a feast or wake , Her jetty locks enamels ; fairer she , In innocence and home-spun vestments dress'd , Than if coerulean saphires at her ears Shone pendent , or a precious diamond-cross Heav'd gently on her panting bosom white . Yon' shepherd idly stretch'd on the rude rock , Listening to dashing waves , and sea mews' clang High-hovering o'er his head , who views beneath The dolphin dancing o'er the level brine , Feels more true bliss than the proud ammiral , Amid his vessels bright with burnish'd gold And silken streamers , tho' his lordly nod Ten thousand war-worn mariners revere . And great Aeneas Aeneid VIII . gaz'd with more delight On the rough mountain shagg'd with horrid shades , ( Where cloud-compelling Jove , as fancy dream'd , Descending shook his direful Aegis black ) Than if he enter'd the high Capitol On golden columns rear'd , a conquer'd world Exhausted , to enrich its stately head . More pleas'd he slept in poor Evander's cott On shaggy skins , lull'd by sweet nightingales , Than if a Nero , in an age refin'd , Beneath a gorgeous canopy had plac'd His royal guest , and bade his minstrels sound Soft slumb'rous Lydian airs , to sooth his rest . See Lucretius , lib. V. Happy the first of men , ere yet confin'd To smoaky cities ; who in sheltering groves , Warm caves , and deep-sunk vallies liv'd and lov'd , By cares unwounded ; what the sun and showers , And genial earth untillag'd could produce , They gather'd grateful , or the acorn brown , Or blushing berry ; by the liquid lapse Of murm'ring waters call'd to slake their thirst , Or with fair nymphs their sun-brown limbs to bathe ; With nymphs who fondly clasp'd their fav'rite youths , Unaw'd by shame , beneath the beechen shade , Nor wiles , nor artificial coyness knew . Then doors and walls were not ; the melting maid Nor frowns of parents fear'd , nor husband's threats ; Nor had curs'd gold their tender hearts allur'd : Then beauty was not venal . Injur'd love , O whither , god of raptures , art thou fled ? While Avarice waves his golden wand around , Abhorr'd magician , and his costly cup Prepares with baneful drugs , t' enchant the souls Of each low-thoughted fair to wed for gain . In earth's first infancy ( as sung the Lucretius . bard , Who strongly painted what he boldly thought ) Tho' the fierce north oft smote with iron whip Their shiv'ring limbs , tho' oft the bristly boar Or hungry lion 'woke them with their howls , And scar'd them from their moss-grown caves to rove Houseless and cold in dark tempestuous nights ; Yet were not myriads in embattel'd fields Swept off at once , nor had the raging seas O'erwhelm'd the found'ring bark and shrieking crew ; In vain the glassy ocean smil'd to tempt The jolly sailor unsuspecting harm , For commerce ne'er had spread her swelling sails , Nor had the wond'ring Nereids ever heard The dashing oar : then famine , want , and pine , Sunk to the grave their fainting limbs ; but us , Diseaseful dainties , riot and excess , And feverish luxury destroy . In brakes , Or marshes wild unknowingly they crop'd Herbs of malignant juice ; to realms remote While we for powerful poisons madly roam , From every noxious herb collecting death . What tho' unknown to those primaeval sires The well-arch'd dome , peopled with breathing forms By fair Italia's skilful hand , unknown The shapely column , and the crumbling busts Of aweful ancestors in long descent ? Yet why should man mistaken deem it nobler To dwell in palaces , and high-roof'd halls , Than in God's forests , architect supreme ! Say , is the Persian carpet , than the field's Or meadow's mantle gay , more richly wov'n ; Or softer to the votaries of ease Than bladed grass , perfum'd with dew-dropt flow'rs ? O taste corrupt ! that luxury and pomp , In specious names of polish'd manners veil'd , Should proudly banish Nature's simple charms ! All-beauteous Nature ! by thy boundless charms Oppress'd , O where shall I begin thy praise , Where turn th' ecstatic eye , how ease my breast That pants with wild astonishment and love ! Dark forests , and the op'ning lawn , refresh'd With ever-gushing brooks , hill , meadow , dale , The balmy bean-field , the gay-clover'd close , So sweetly interchang'd , the lowing ox , The playful lamb , the distant water-fall Now faintly heard , now swelling with the breeze , The sound of pastoral reed from hazel-bower , The choral birds , the neighing steed , that snuffs His dappled mate , stung with intense desire , The ripen'd orchard when the ruddy orbs Betwixt the green leaves blush , the azure skies , The chearful sun that thro' earth's vitals pours Delight and health and heat ; all , all conspire , To raise , to sooth , to harmonize the mind , To lift on wings of praise , to the great Sire Of being and of beauty , at whose nod Creation started from the gloomy vault Of dreary Chaos , while the griesly king Murmur'd to feel his boisterous power confin'd . What are the lays of artful Addison , Coldly correct , to Shakespear's warblings wild ? Whom on the winding Avon's willow'd banks Fair Fancy found , and bore the smiling babe To a close cavern : ( still the shepherds shew The sacred place , whence with religious awe They hear , returning from the field at eve , Strange whisp'rings of sweet musick thro' the air ) Here , as with honey gather'd from the rock , She fed the little prattler , and with songs Oft' sooth'd his wand'ring ears , with deep delight On her soft lap he sat , and caught the sounds . Oft near some crowded city would I walk , Listening the far-off noises , rattling cars , Loud shouts of joy , sad shrieks of sorrow , knells Full slowly tolling , instruments of trade , Striking mine ears with one deep-swelling hum . Or wand'ring near the sea , attend the sounds Of hollow winds , and ever-beating waves , Ev'n when wild tempests swallow up the plains , And Boreas' blasts , big hail , and rains combine To shake the groves and mountains , would I sit , Pensively musing on th' outrageous crimes That wake heav'n's vengeance : at such solemn hours , Daemons and goblins thro' the dark air shriek , While Hecat , with her black-brow'd sisters nine , Rides o'er the earth , and scatters woes and death . Then too , they say , in dear Aegyptian wilds The lion and the tiger prowl for prey With roarings loud ! the list'ning traveller Starts fear-struck , while the hollow-echoing vaults Of pyramids increase the deathful sounds . But let me never fail in cloudless nights , When silent Cynthia in her silver car Thro' the blue concave slides , when shine the hills , Twinkle the streams , and woods look tip'd with gold , To seek some level mead , and there invoke Old Midnight's sister Contemplation sage , ( Queen of the rugged brow , and stern-fixt eye ) To lift my soul above this little earth , This folly-fetter'd world : to purge my ears , That I may hear the rolling planet's song , And tuneful turning spheres : if this debarr'd . The little Fayes that dance in neighbouring dales , Sipping the night-dew , while they laugh and love , Shall charm me with aërial notes . — As thus I wander musing , lo , what aweful forms Yonder appear ! sharp-ey'd Philosophy Clad in dun robes , an eagle on his wrist , First meets my eye ; next , virgin Solitude Serene , who blushes at each gazer's sight ; Then Wisdom's hoary head , with crutch in hand , Trembling , and bent with age ; last Virtue's self Smiling , in white array'd , who with her leads Sweet Innocence , that prattles by her side , A naked boy ! — Harrass'd with fear I stop , I gaze , when Virtue thus — ' Whoe'er thou art , ' Mortal , by whom I deign to be beheld ' In these my midnight-walks ; depart , and say ' That henceforth I and my immortal train ' Forsake Britannia's isle ; who fondly stoops ' To Vice , her favourite paramour . ' — She spoke , And as she turn'd , her round and rosy neck , Her flowing train , and long ambrosial hair , Breathing rich odours , I enamour'd view . O who will bear me then to western climes , ( Since Virtue leaves our wretched land ) to fields Yet unpolluted with Iberian swords : The isles of innocence , from mortal view Deeply retir'd , beneath a plantane's shade , Where Happiness and Quiet sit enthron'd , With simple Indian swains , that I may hunt The boar and tiger thro' Savannah's wild , Thro' fragrant desarts , and thro' citron-groves . There fed on dates and herbs , would I despise The far-fetch'd cates of Luxury , and hoards Of narrow-hearted Avarice ; nor heed The distant din of the tumultuous world . So when rude whirlwinds rouze the roaring main , Beneath fair Thetis sits , in choral caves , Serenely gay , nor sinking sailors' cries Disturb her sportive nymphs , who round her form The light fantastick dance , or for her hair Weave rosy crowns , or with according lutes Grace the soft warbles of her honied voice .