An Essay on History: Epistle the First

HIGH in the world of Letters, and of Wit,
Enthron'd like JOVE, behold Opinion sit!
As symbols of her sway, on either hand
Th' unfailing urns of Praise and Censure stand;
Their mingled streams her motley servants shed
On each bold Author's self-devoted head.
On thee, O GIBBON! in whose splendid page
ROME shines majestic 'mid the woes of age,
Mistaken Zeal, wrapt in a priestly pall,
Has from the baser urn pour'd darkest gall:
These stains to Learning would a Bard efface
With tides of glory from the golden vase,
But that he feels this nobler task require
A spirit glowing with congenial fire—
A VIRGIL only may uncensur'd aim
To sing in equal verse a LIVY's fame:
Yet while Polemics, in fierce league combin'd,
With savage discord vex thy feeling mind;
And with a pure Religion's just defence,
Blend gross detraction and perverted sense;
Thy wounded ear may haply not refuse
The soothing accents of an humbler Muse.
The lovely Science, whose attractive air
Derives new charms from thy devoted care,
Is near ally'd to that bewitching Art,
Which reigns the idol of the Poet's heart.
Tho' sister Goddesses, thy guardian maid
Shines in the robe of fresher youth array'd,
Like PALLAS recent from the brain of JOVE,
When Strength with Beauty in her features strove;
While elder Poesy, in every clime
The flower of earliest fall, has past her prime:
The bloom, which her autumnal cheeks supply,
Palls on the Public's philosophic eye.
But tho' no more with Fancy's strong controul
Her Epic wonders fascinate the soul;
With humbler hopes, she wishes still to please
By moral elegance, and labour'd ease:
Like other Prudes, leaves Beauty's lost pretence,
And strives to charm by Sentiment and Sense.
Yet deaf to Envy's voice, and Pride's alarms,
She loves the rival, who eclips'd her charms;
Safe in thy favour, she would fondly stray
Round the wide realm, which owns that Sister's sway,
Sing the just fav'rites of historic fame,
And mark their purest laws and noblest aim.
My eyes with joy this pathless field explore,
Cross'd by no ROMAN Bard, no GREEKS of yore.
Those mighty Lords of literary sway
Have pass'd this province with a slight survey:
E'en He, whose bold and comprehensive mind
Immortal rules to Poesy assign'd,
High Priest of Learning! has not fix'd apart
The laws and limits of historic Art:
Yet one excelling GREEK in later days,
The happy teacher of harmonious phrase,
Whose patient fingers all the threads untwine,
Which in the mystic chain of Music join;
Strict DIONYSIUS, of severest Taste,
Has justly some historic duties trac'd,
And some pure precepts into practice brought,
Th' Historian proving what the Critic taught.
And LUCIAN! thou, of Humour's sons supreme!
Hast touch'd with liveliest art this tempting theme.
When in the ROMAN world, corrupt and vain,
Historic Fury madden'd every brain;
When each base GREEK indulg'd his frantic dream,
And rose a XENOPHON in self-esteem;
Thy Genius satyriz'd the scribbling slave,
And to the liberal pen just lessons gave:
O skill'd to season, in proportion fit,
Severer wisdom with thy sportive wit!
Breathe thy strong power! thy sprightly grace infuse
In the bold efforts of no servile Muse,
If she transplant some lively flower, that throws
Immortal sweetness o'er thy Attic Prose!
In Egypt once a dread tribunal stood;
Offspring of Wisdom! source of Public Good!
Before this Seat, by holy Justice rear'd,
The mighty Dead, in solemn pomp, appear'd;
For 'till its sentence had their rights expos'd,
The hallow'd portals of the tomb were clos'd;
A sculptur'd form of Truth the Judges wore,
A sacred emblem of the charge they bore!
The claims of Virtue their pure voice exprest,
And bade the opening grave receive its honor'd guest.
In such a court, array'd in Judgment's robe,
With powers extensive as the peopled Globe;
To her just bar impartial Hist'ry brings
The gorgeous group of Statesmen, Heroes, Kings;
With all whose minds, out-shining splendid birth,
Attract the notice of th' enlighten'd earth.
From artful Pomp she strips the proud disguise
That flash'd delusion in admiring eyes;
To injur'd Worth gives Glory's wish reward,
And blazons Virtue in her bright record:
Nature's clear Mirror! Life's instructive Guide!
Her Wisdom sour'd by no preceptive Pride!
Age from her lesson forms its wisest aim,
And youthful Emulation springs to Fame.
Yet thus adorn'd with noblest powers, design'd
To charm, correct, and elevate mankind,
From darkest Time her humble Birth she drew,
And slowly into Strength and Beauty grew;
As mighty streams, that roll with gather'd force,
Spring feebly forth from some sequester'd source.
The fond desire to pass the nameless crowd,
Swept from the earth in dark Oblivion's cloud;
Of transient life to leave some little trace,
And win remembrance from the rising race;
Led early Chiefs to make their prowess known
By the rude symbol on the artless stone:
And, long ere man the wondrous secret found
To paint the voice, and fix the fleeting sound,
The infant Muse, ambitious at her birth,
Rose the young herald of heroic worth.
The tuneful record of her oral praise,
The Sire's atchievements to the Son conveys:
Keen Emulation, wrapt in trance sublime,
Drinks with retentive ear the potent rhyme;
And faithful Memory, from affection strong,
Spreads the rich torrent of her martial song.
Letters at length arise; but envious Night
Conceals their blest Inventor from our sight.
O'er the wide earth his spreading bounty flew,
And swift those precious seeds of Science grew;
Thence quickly sprung the Annal's artless frame,
Time its chief boast! and brevity its aim!
The Temple-wall preserv'd a simple date,
And mark'd in plainest form the Monarch's fate.
But in the center of those vast abodes,
Whose mighty mass the land of Egypt loads;
Where, in rude triumph over years unknown,
Gigantic Grandeur, from his spiry throne,
Seems to look down disdainful, and deride
The poor, the pigmy toils of modern Pride;
In the close covert of those gloomy cells,
Where early Magic fram'd her venal spells,
Combining priests, from many an ancient tale,
Wove for their hallow'd use Religion's veil;
A wondrous texture! supple, rich, and broad,
To dazzle Folly, and to shelter Fraud!
This, as her caestus, Superstition wore;
And saw th' enchanted world its powers adore:
For in the mystic web was every charm
To lure the timid, and the bold disarm;
To win from easy Faith a blind esteem,
And lull Devotion in a lasting dream.
The Sorceress, to spread her empire, drest
History's young form in this illusive vest,
Whose infant voice repeated, as she taught,
The motley fables on her mantle wrought;
Till Attic Freedom brought the Foundling home
From the dark cells of her Egyptian dome;
Drew by degrees th' oppressive veil aside,
And, shewing the fair Nymph in nature's pride,
Taught her to speak, with all the fire of youth,
The words of Wisdom in the tone of Truth;
To catch the passing shew of public life,
And paint immortal scenes of Grecian strife.
Inchanting Athens! oft as Learning calls
Our fond attention to thy fost'ring walls,
Still with fresh joy thy glories we explore,
With new idolatry thy charms adore.
Bred in thy bosom, the Historian caught
The warmest glow of elevated thought.
Yet while thy triumphs to his eye display,
The noblest scene his pencil can portray;
While thy rich language, grac'd by every Muse,
Supplies the brightest tints, his hand can use;
How few, O Athens! can thy genius raise
To the bright summit of historic praise!
But such hard fortunes human hopes attend:
Tho' to each Science many myriads bend,
Each gives, and with a coy, reluctant hand,
Her badge of honor to a chosen band.
Pure, faultless writing, like transmuted gold,
Mortals may wish, but never shall behold:
Let Genius still this glorious object own,
And seek Perfection's philosophic stone!
For while the mind, in study's toilsome hours,
Tries on the long research her latent powers,
New wonders rise, to pay her patient thought,
Inferior only to the prize she sought.
But idle Pride no arduous labor sees,
And deems th' Historian's toil a task of ease:
Yet, if survey'd by Judgment's steady lamp,
How few are justly grac'd with Glory's stamp!
Tho' more these volumes, than the ruthless mind
Of the fierce OMAR to the flames consign'd,
When Learning saw the savage with a smile
Devote her offspring to the blazing pile!
O History! whose pregnant mines impart
Unfailing treasures to poetic art;
The Epic gem, and those of darker hues,
Whose trembling lustre decks the tragic Muse;
If, justly conscious of thy powers, I raise
A votive tablet to record thy praise,
That ancient temple to my view unfold,
Where thy first Sons, on Glory's list enroll'd,
To Fancy's eye, in living forms, appear,
And fill with Freedom's notes the raptur'd ear!—
The dome expands!—Behold th' Historic Sire!
Ionic roses mark his soft attire;
Bold in his air, but graceful in his mien
As the fair figure of his favour'd Queen,
When her proud galley sham'd the Persian van,
And grateful XERXES own'd her more than man!
Soft as the stream, whose dimpling waters play,
And wind in lucid lapse their pleasurable way,
His rich, Homeric elocution flows,
For all the Muses modulate his prose:
Tho' blind Credulity his step misleads
Thro' the dark mist of her Egyptian meads,
Yet when return'd, with patriot passions warm,
He paints the progress of the Persian storm,
In Truth's illumin'd field, his labours rear
A trophy worthy of the Spartan spear:
His eager country, in th' Olympic vale,
Throngs with proud joy to catch the martial tale.
Behold! where Valour, resting on his lance,
Drinks the sweet sound in rapture's silent trance,
Then, with a grateful shout of fond acclaim,
Hails the just herald of his country's fame!—
But mark the Youth, in dumb delight immers'd!
See the proud tear of emulation burst!
O faithful sign of a superior soul!
Thy prayer is heard:—'tis thine to reach the goal.
See! blest OLORUS! fee the palm is won!
Sublimity and Wisdom crown thy Son:
His the rich prize, that caught his early gaze,
Th' eternal treasure of increasing praise!
Pure from the stain of favor, or of hate,
His nervous line unfolds the deep Debate;
Explores the seeds of War; with matchless force
Draws Discord, springing from Ambition's source,
With all her Demagogues, who murder Peace,
In the fierce struggles of contentious Greece.
Stript by Ingratitude of just command—
Above resentment to a thankless land,
Above all envy, rancour, pride, and spleen,
In exile patient, in disgrace serene,
And proud to celebrate, as Truth inspires,
Each patriot Hero, that his soul admires—
The deep-ton'd trumpet of renown he blows,
In sage retirement 'mid the Thracian snows.
But to untimely silence Fate devotes
Those lips, yet trembling with imperfect notes,
And base Oblivion threatens to devour
Ev'n this first offspring of historic power.
A generous guardian of a rival's fame,
Mars the dark Fiend in this malignant aim:
Accomplish'd XENOPHON! thy truth has shewn
A brother's glory sacred as thy own:
O rich in all the blended gifts, that grace
Minerva's darling sons of Attic race!
The Sage's olive, the Historian's palm,
The Victor's laurel, all thy name embalm!
Thy simple diction, free from glaring art,
With sweet allurement steals upon the heart,
Pure, as the rill, that Nature's hand refines;
Clear, as thy harmony of soul, it shines.
Two passions there by soft contention please,
The love of martial Fame, and learned Ease:
These friendly colours, exquisitely join'd,
Form the inchanting picture of thy mind.
Thine was the praise, bright models to afford
To CAESAR's rival pen, and rival sword:
Blest, had Ambition not destroy'd his claim
To the mild lustre of thy purer fame!
Thou pride of Greece! in thee her triumphs end:
And Roman chiefs in borrow'd pomp ascend.
Rome's haughty genius, who enslav'd the Greek,
In Grecian language deigns at first to speak:
By slow degrees her ruder tongue she taught
To tell the wonders that her valour wrought;
And her historic host, with envious eye,
View in their glittering van a Greek ally.
Thou Friend of SCIPIO! vers'd in War's alarms!
Torn from thy wounded country's struggling arms!
And doom'd in Latian bosoms to instill
Thy moral virtue, and thy martial skill!
Pleas'd, in researches of elaborate length,
To trace the fibres of the Roman strength!
O highly perfect in each nobler part,
The Sage's wisdom, and the Soldier's art!
This richer half of Grecian praise is thine:
But o'er thy style the slighted Graces pine,
And tir'd Attention toils thro' many a maze,
To reach the purport of thy doubtful phrase:
Yet large are his rewards, whose toils engage
To clear the spirit of thy cloudy page;
Like Indian fruit, its rugged rind contains
Those milky sweets that pay the searcher's pains.
But Rome's proud Genius, with exulting claim,
Points to her rivals of the Grecian name!
Sententious SALLUST leads her lofty train;
Clear, tho' concife, elaborately plain,
Poising his scale of words with frugal care,
Nor leaving one superfluous atom there!
Yet well displaying, in a narrow space,
Truth's native strength, and Nature's easy grace;
Skill'd to detect, in tracing Action's course,
The hidden motive, and the human source.
His lucid brevity the palm has won,
By Rome's decision, from OLORUS' Son.
Of mightier spirit, of majestic frame,
With powers proportion'd to the Roman fame,
When Rome's fierce Eagle his broad wings unfurl'd,
And shadow'd with his plumes the subject world,
In bright pre-eminence, that Greece might own,
Sublimer LIVY claims th' Historic throne;
With that rich Eloquence, whose golden light
Brings the full scene distinctly to the sight;
That Zeal for Truth, which Interest cannot bend,
That Fire, which Freedom ever gives her friend.
Immortal artist of a work supreme!
Delighted Rome beheld, with proud esteem,
Her own bright image, of Colossal size,
From thy long toils in purest marble rise.
But envious Time, with a malignant stroke,
This sacred statue into fragments broke;
In Lethe's stream its nobler portions sunk,
And left Futurity the wounded trunk.
Yet, like the matchless, mutilated frame,
To which great ANGELO bequeath'd his name,
This glorious ruin, in whose strength we find
The splendid vigour of the Sculptor's mind,
In the fond eye of Admiration still
Rivals the finish'd forms of modern skill.
Next, but, O LIVY! as unlike to thee,
As the pent river to th' expanding sea,
Sarcastic TACITUS, abrupt and dark,
In moral anger forms the keen remark;
Searching the soul with microscopic power,
To mark the latent worm that mars the flower.
His Roman voice, in base degenerate days,
Spoke to Imperial Pride in Freedom's praise;
And with indignant hate, severely warm,
Shew'd to gigantic Guilt his ghastly form!
There are, whose censures to his Style assign
A subtle spirit, rigid and malign;
Which magnified each monster that he drew,
And gave the darkest vice a deeper hue:
Yet his strong pencil shews the gentlest heart,
In one sweet sketch of Biographic art,
Whose softest tints, by filial love combin'd,
Form the pure image of his Father's mind.
O blest Biography! thy charms of yore
Historic Truth to strong Affection bore,
And fost'ring Virtue gave thee as thy dower,
Of both thy Parents the attractive power;
To win the heart, the wavering thought to fix,
And fond delight with wise instruction mix.
First of thy votaries, peerless, and alone,
Thy PLUTARCH shines, by moral beauty known:
Enchanting Sage! whose living lessons teach,
What heights of Virtue human efforts reach.
Tho' oft thy Pen, eccentrically wild,
Ramble, in Learning's various maze beguil'd;
Tho' in thy Style no brilliant graces shine,
Nor the clear conduct of correct Design,
Thy every page is uniformly bright
With mild Philanthropy's diviner light.
Of gentlest manners, as of mind elate,
Thy happy Genius had the glorious fate
To regulate, with Wisdom's soft controul,
The strong ambition of a TRAJAN's soul.
But O! how rare benignant Virtue springs,
In the blank bosom of despotic kings!
Thou bane of liberal Knowledge! Nature's curse!
Parent of Misery! pamper'd Vice's nurse!
Plunging, by thy annihilating breath,
The soul of Genius in the trance of death!
Unbounded Power! beneath thy baleful sway,
The voice of Hist'ry sinks in dumb decay.
Still in thy gloomy reign one martial Greek,
In Rome's corrupted language dares to speak;
Mild MARCELLINUS! free from servile awe!
A faithful painter of the woes he saw;
Forc'd by the meanness of his age to join
Adulterate Colours with his just Design!
The slighted Attic Muse no more supplies
Her pencil, dipt in Nature's purest dies;
And Roman Emulation, at a stand,
Drops the blurr'd pallet from her palsy'd hand.
But while Monastic Night, with gathering shades,
The ruin'd realm of History invades;
While, pent in CONSTANTINE's ill-fated walls,
The mangled form of Roman Grandeur falls;
And, like a Gladiator on the sand,
Props his faint body with a dying hand;
While savage Turks, or the fierce Sons of Thor,
Wage on the Arts a wild Titanian war;
While manly Knowledge hides his radiant head,
As Jove in terror from the Titans fled;
See! in the lovely charms of female youth,
A second Pallas guards the throne of Truth!
And, with COMNENA's royal name imprest,
The zone of Beauty binds her Attic vest!
Fair star of Wisdom! whose unrival'd light
Breaks thro' the stormy cloud of thickest night;
Tho' in the purple of proud misery nurst,
From those oppressive bands thy spirit burst;
Pleas'd, in thy public labours, to forget
The keen domestic pangs of fond regret!
Pleas'd to preserve, from Time's destructive rage,
A Father's virtues in thy faithful page!
Too pure of soul to violate, or hide
Th' Historian's duty in the Daughter's pride!
Tho' base Oblivion long with envious hand
Hid the fair volume which thy virtue plann'd,
It shines, redeem'd from Ruin's darkest hour,
A wond'rous monument of Female power;
While conscious Hist'ry, careful of thy fame,
Ranks in her Attic band thy filial name,
And sees, on Glory's stage, thy graceful mien
Close the long triumph of her ancient scene!