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    The Minstrel; or the Progress of Genius with some other poems
    The Minstrel; or the Progress of Genius with some other poems
    The Minstrel; or the Progress of Genius with some other poems
    Ebook132 pages1 hour

    The Minstrel; or the Progress of Genius with some other poems

    By James Beattie

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    Read preview
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateNov 26, 2013
    The Minstrel; or the Progress of Genius with some other poems

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      Book preview

      The Minstrel; or the Progress of Genius with some other poems - James Beattie

      Project Gutenberg's The Minstrel; or the Progress of Genius, by James Beattie

      This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with

      almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or

      re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included

      with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net

      Title: The Minstrel; or the Progress of Genius

      with some other poems

      Author: James Beattie

      Release Date: November 9, 2008 [EBook #27221]

      Language: English

      *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MINSTREL; PROGRESS OF GENIUS ***

      Produced by Irma Spehar and the Online Distributed

      Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was

      produced from scanned images of public domain material

      from the Google Print project.)

      THE

      MINSTREL,

      WITH

      SOME OTHER POEMS.

      THE

      MINSTREL;

      OR,

      THE PROGRESS OF GENIUS.

      WITH

      SOME OTHER POEMS.

      By JAMES BEATTIE, LL. D.

      EDINBURGH:

      PRINTED BY JAMES BALLANTYNE,

      FOR WILLIAM CREECH, MANNERS AND MILLER,

      AND A. CONSTABLE AND CO.

      1805.

      TO

      SIR WILLIAM FORBES,

      OF PITSLIGO, BARONET,

      AS A MARK OF RESPECT FOR HIS CHARACTER,

      AND AS AN APPROPRIATE TRIBUTE TO ONE OF THE MOST

      VALUED FRIENDS OF THE AUTHOR,

      THIS EDITION

      OF THE

      POETICAL WORKS OF DR BEATTIE,

      IS INSCRIBED

      BY

      THE PUBLISHERS.

      CONTENTS.

      PREFACE

      TO

      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, as an itinerant Poet and Musician;—a character, which, according to the notions of our fore-fathers, 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 unintelligible 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, I can only answer, that it pleases my ear, and seems, from its Gothic structure and original, to bear some relation to the subject and spirit of the Poem. It admits both of 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;

      IN TWO BOOKS.

      Me vero primum dulces ante omnia Musæ,

      Quarum sacra fero, ingenti perculsus amore,

      Accipiant.——

      Virgil.

      THE

      MINSTREL;

      OR,

      THE PROGRESS OF GENIUS.

      BOOK FIRST.

      I.

      Ah! who can tell how hard it is to climb

      The steep, where Fame’s proud temple shines afar!

      Ah! who can tell how many a soul sublime

      Has felt the influence of malignant star,

      And waged with Fortune an eternal war!

      Checked by the scoff of Pride, by Envy’s frown,

      And Poverty’s unconquerable bar,

      In life’s low vale remote has pined alone,

      Then dropt into the grave, unpitied and unknown!

      II.

      And yet, the languor of inglorious days

      Not equally oppressive is to all.

      Him, who ne’er listened to the voice of praise,

      The silence of neglect can ne’er appal.

      There are, who, deaf to mad Ambition’s call,

      Would shrink to hear th’ obstreperous trump of Fame;

      Supremely blest, if to their portion fall

      Health, competence, and peace. Nor higher aim

      Had He, whose simple tale these artless lines proclaim.

      III.

      This sapient age disclaims all classic lore;

      Else I should here, in cunning phrase, display,

      How forth The Minstrel fared in days of yore,

      Right glad of heart, though homely in array;

      His waving locks and beard all hoary grey:

      And, 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 yourselves, ye silken sons of pride,

      That a poor Wanderer should inspire my strain.

      The Muses fortune’s fickle smile deride,

      Nor ever bow the knee in Mammon’s fane;

      For their delights are with the village-train,

      Whom Nature’s laws engage, and Nature’s charms:

      They hate the sensual, and scorn the vain;

      The parasite their influence never warms,

      Nor him whose sordid soul the love of wealth alarms.

      V.

      Though richest hues the peacock’s plumes adorn,

      Yet horror screams from his discordant throat.

      Rise, sons of harmony, and hail the morn,

      While warbling larks on russet pinions float;

      Or seek, at noon, the woodland scene remote,

      Where the grey linnets carol from the hill.

      O let them ne’er, with artificial note,

      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;

      Nor was perfection made for man below.

      Yet all her schemes with nicest art are planned,

      Good counteracting ill, and gladness woe.

      With gold and gems if Chilian mountains glow,

      If bleak and barren Scotia’s hills arise;

      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 refined?

      No; let thy heaven-taught soul to heaven aspire,

      To fancy, freedom, harmony, resigned;

      Ambition’s grovelling crew for ever left behind.

      VIII.

      Canst thou forego the pure

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