325 "Sexton! oh, lay beneath this sacred shrine,
When Time's cold hand shall close my aching eyes,
Oh, gently lay this wearied earth of mine,
Where wrap'd in night my loved MILCENA lies.
"So shall with purer joy my spirit move,
330 When the last trumpet thrills the caves of Death,
Catch the first whispers of my waking love,
And drink with holy kiss her kindling breath.
"The spotless Fair, with blush ethereal warm,
Shall hail with sweeter smile returning day,
335 Rise from her marble bed a brighter form,
And win on buoyant step her airy way.
"Shall bend approved, where beckoning hosts invite,
On clouds of silver her adoring knee,
Approach with Seraphim the throne of light,
340 —And BEAUTY plead with angel-tongue for Me!"
IX. "YOUR virgin trains on BRINDLEY'S cradle smiled,
And nursed with fairy-love the unletter'd child,
Spread round his pillow all your secret spells,
Pierced all your springs, and open'd all your wells.—
345 As now on grass, with glossy folds reveal'd,
Glides the bright serpent, now in flowers conceal'd;
Far shine the scales, that gild his sinuous back,
And lucid undulations mark his track;
So with strong arm immortal BRINDLEY leads
350 His long canals, and parts the velvet meads;
Winding in lucid lines, the watery mass
Mines the firm rock, or loads the deep morass,
With rising locks a thousand hills alarms,
Flings o'er a thousand streams its silver arms,
355 Feeds the long vale, the nodding woodland laves,
And Plenty, Arts, and Commerce freight the waves.
—NYMPHS! who erewhile round BRINDLEY'S early bier
On show-white bosoms shower'd the incessant tear,
Adorn his tomb!—oh, raise the marble bust,
360 Proclaim his honours, and protect his dust!
With urns inverted, round the sacred shrine
Their ozier wreaths let weeping Naiads twine;
While on the top MECHANIC GENIUS stands,
Counts the fleet waves, and balances the lands.
[On Brindley's cradle smiled. l. 341. The life of Mr. Brindley, whose great abilities in the construction of canal navigation were called forth by the patronage of the Duke of Bridgwater, may be read in Dr. Kippis's Biographia Britannica, the excellence of his genius is visible in every part of this island. He died at Turnhurst in Staffordshire in 1772, and ought to have a monument in the cathedral church at Lichfield.]
365 X. "NYMPHS! YOU first taught to pierce the secret caves
Of humid earth, and lift her ponderous waves;
Bade with quick stroke the sliding piston bear
The viewless columns of incumbent air;—
Press'd by the incumbent air the floods below,
370 Through opening valves in foaming torrents flow,
Foot after foot with lessen'd impulse move,
And rising seek the vacancy above.—
So when the Mother, bending o'er his charms,
Clasps her fair nurseling in delighted arms;
375 Throws the thin kerchief from her neck of snow,
And half unveils the pearly orbs below;
With sparkling eye the blameless Plunderer owns
Her soft embraces, and endearing tones,
Seeks the salubrious fount with opening lips,
380 Spreads his inquiring hands, and smiles, and sips.
[Lift her ponderous waves. l. 366. The invention of the pump is of very antient date, being ascribed to one Ctesebes an Athenian, whence it was called by the Latins machina Ctesebiana; but it was long before it was known that the ascent of the piston lifted the superincumbent column of the atmosphere, and that then the pressure of the surrounding air on the surface of the well below forced the water up into the vacuum, and that on that account in the common lifting pump the water would rise only about thirty-five feet, as the weight of such a column of water was in general an equipoise to the surrounding atmosphere. The foamy appearance of water, when the pressure of the air over it is diminished, is owing to the expansion and escape of the air previously dissolved by it, or existing in its pores. When a child first sucks it only presses or champs the teat, as observed by the great Harvey, but afterwards it learns to make an incipient vacuum in its mouth, and acts by removing the pressure of the atmosphere from the nipple, like a pump.]
"CONNUBIAL FAIR! whom no fond transport warms
To lull your infant in maternal arms;
Who, bless'd in vain with tumid bosoms, hear
His tender wailings with unfeeling ear;
385 The soothing kiss and milky rill deny
To the sweet pouting lip, and glistening eye!—
Ah! what avails the cradle's damask roof,
The eider bolster, and embroider'd woof!—
Oft hears the gilded couch unpity'd plains,
390 And many a tear the tassel'd cushion stains!
No voice so sweet attunes his cares to rest,
So soft no pillow, as his Mother's breast!—
—Thus charm'd to sweet repose, when twilight hours
Shed their soft influence on celestial bowers,
395 The Cherub, Innocence, with smile divine
Shuts his white wings, and sleeps on Beauty's shrine.
[Ah! what avails. l. 387. From an elegant little poem of Mr. Jerningham's intitled Il Latte, exhorting ladies to nurse their own children.]