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[FOR THE CARDIFF ADVERTISER.]

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[FOR THE CARDIFF ADVERTISER.] THE HERMIT-POET'S FAREWELL TO • PARNASSUS. BY JOSEPH DOWNES. Author of the Mountain Decameron." Oh lost Parnassus, when shall pass this brain's long dream away, As from this heart the hope, alas! hath pass'd ? when both are clay Haunts of the Nymphs, the Muse, the Ood long in prophetic d, earn, By this dark, wounded spirit trod, farewell Castalian stream. Farewell, farewell! a gloom of hell oerliax)gs Life's parting gleam; To him whose mind stiil looks behind, while Nature drags him on, To Death's and black Oblivion's wave, Ambition's Phlegethon A disenchanted world all round a sweet world's skeleton H. Thoush changed, changed stands 'neath your hard hands, sad Present sober Truih That Past so beautiful, so grand, so fancy fraught to youth; Oh not the Mme's home, for dews, with blood-drops bathed by war. Resounding shrieks of dying Greeks, and clang of scimitar; Nor that pure stream, where, sordid now Albanian peasants lave, (The city of the God become wiid village of the slave). More changed than this fair world, become some glorious hope's grave! III. Sad metamorphosed world for pelf, but borne as some dim nrine,- How changed from thy refulgent self, as yon blue crystalline; W orlll hung above thee, fair, when Love did Life's irue life foreran, Day on day, rising as the Hesperian star before the snn Fled thine Apollo, from Man's hollow heart, Love's sweet ensign furled, Death's black displayed, ob what but shade and horror thine, oh World! IV. Love's PLANET still, from yon blue hill, like Venus' eye aloft. On THIS ( Despair's and Mammon's own) may look as brightly soft; But to the self-surviving man, his younger self's grim brother, Of whose hope's edifice is left not one stone on another; His everlasting anchor cast, from wished-for port as far As earth from heaven, in sullen calm, his proud bark rolling there, But a world's ruin still thou art, a beamless, blasted star. V. Now can I turn, if still with stern good night, almost with glad, From thee, degenerate. Native Land, with all thy mirth more sad, Than Death's, with all its dark, to me thy heartless, soul-less mirth. Enthroning Momus in the land that gave a Milton birth Which, were earth English ALL, would m.ke one Limbo of all earth Thou paradise of Fools, the price of whose fool-plaudits is Kaeh loftier longing's sacrifice ;-though t-k ii I in- play thy bliss, The posture-mistress* most obscene thy tastes, Semiramis VI. Oh were Heraclitus come back, tbe Sage would laugh,at last, To hear this Age d, spise all past, th' ELIZABETHAN past! THIS that pursues such capering MUSE, her garment's hem to kiss. Strews flowers before her, hails her feats of legs like victories, And feats of arms, while Reason flies the world's metropolis,- THAT, smitten with the feats of MIND, —which in Fame's highest heaven. Sages and Bards enthroned, with God and God-like heroes even VII. Oh now, methinks, th* nncharmed world shrinks to its base elements, Wanting that Sentiment that links the soul to soul-less Sense Which In the beautiful and grand, spies beauty grandeur far, In Life's dull stream a golden sand to others viewless there, Can of an evening primrose make an earthborn evening-star God's heavenly gift, at times, to lift Man even with His skies, As some fond mother lifts her child to smile into its eyes- Tills is that *• Mustt" ye drive from this sad world, ye Worldly wise! VIII. THIS is the true Muse" that can infuse strange virtue in the flower, Of a wild weed surpassing Art's whole herbal in its power; Medicinal to minds and hearts! that roam yon field of stars, For bosom-balm and brings it down through rusty prison bars To him whose living death-vault's walls admit heaven's prospect only, The sick man's health, the poor man's wealth, companion of the lonely IX And SHALL they drive ? No still alive. thy deathless dynasty. Genius! this treason shall survive; the Mind's whole chivalry New giant intellects shall rouse but woe to POETS, born In Poesy's dark hour, BEFORE thaft resurrection-morn Their voice shall sound and perish! drowned by barbarous ass- eared scorn Like some lost child's in savage wood left by benighted mother, As THAT the wild beasts, THEIR soft voice, the loud and lewd shall smother. x. Mother and Mpm to that forlorn, may come-yea, pass the pit, Now dumb, where o'er its relics sleeps the beast that silenced it; And that blest morn, shall chase this night, their Mother-Muse vlisll follow. But black Oblivion shall, ere then, their voice and memory swallow, Nor ME, my Mother-Muse, will find i-Fame name, or thou, Apollo! Own for thy son-lost, lost, IF one—thy darling dying son, The fate without the glory, mine of blasted Pbcton XI. To earth I go. nor e'er shall know, if TRVF. that voice within, That wedding mine to Poet-minds, kept whispering distant kin; For minds that heaven or men condemn to perish utterly. May bear th' etherial spark, in them, of those that never die; The small Forget me Not's" blue eye, earth's lowliest flower, hath in't A beauty of the sky—th' eternal firmanent's own tint; And if a beetle crushed, indeed, the giant's death-pang boar. THEIR death through such doomed minds may dart a .Milton's own despair. XII. Though those vast fields th' Equator yields of stationary weeds. Please the sea-wearied eye, their mass the slow-paced ship impedes. Till ev'n that loathes the mimic grass as barren as the brine, Lv'n such THY baseless fields. alas, sweet Poesy ev'n thine! To my world-wearied eye and soul, how soothing, how diviue And STILL, though all the world reject, divine thou art to me But woe to Life's young voyager, entangled there by thee A wasted life's sad re'rospect, like mine his lot shall be, A drifting tow'rd a shore of wrecks, whole life that Weedy Sea !"t In the homage of admiration paid to those degraded speci- mens of their sex, opera girls, fresh as imported," it is impos- sible not to see the re-enacting of all those foilies and monstro- sities which made I Rome one Comedy," (or rather farce) as Arsitis expressed it prior to the tragedy of its fall. The power of flome was in an actor's hands," Dryden. translating JUVENAL, wrote, alluding to one Paris, Domitian's favourite. As yet. however, the most wonderfully monstrous attitudes, have not procured for these nymphs a share in the government. To 11 bestride the world," as Julius Csssar did, indecent distortion, must, I suppose, if possible, go farther. But this is such a wonderful age that we need not despair of even this climax. t For many leagues on each side of the Equator the ocean receives this appellation from the density of the sea-weeds. The sailors of Columbus's fleet regarded this phenomenon as a divine signal for their return, as if heaven had confronted them with meadows in the deep.

dFact, Miction, attir dFacetise.…

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