ADVERTISEMENT. THIS poem being writ in the manner of Spenser, the obsolete words, and a simplicity of diction in some of the lines, which borders on the ludicrous, were necessary to make the imitation more perfect. And the style of that admirable poet, as well as the measure in which he wrote, are, as it were, appropriated by custom to all allegorical poems writ in our language; just as in French the style of Marot, who lived under Francis I. has been used in tales, and familiar epistles, by the politest writers in the age of Lewis XIV. THE CASTLE OF INDOLENCE. The Castle hight of Indolence, And its false luxury; I. MORTAL man, who livest here by toil, For, though sometimes it makes thee weep and wail, II. In lowly dale, fast by a river's side, With woody hill o'er hill encompass'd round, Than whom a fiend more fell is no where found. It was, I ween, a lovely spot of ground; And there a season atween June and May, Half prankt with spring, with summer half imbrown'd, A listless climate made, where, sooth to say, III. Was nought around but images of rest: Sleep-soothing groves, and quiet lawns between; And flowery beds that slumbrous influence kest, From poppies breathed; and beds of pleasant green, Where never yet was creeping creature seen. Meantime unnumber'd glittering streamlets play'd, And hurled every-where their waters sheen; That, as they bicker'd through the sunny glade, Though restless still themselves, a lulling murmur made. IV. Join'd to the prattle of the purling rills, Were heard the lowing herds along the vale, V. Full in the passage of the vale above, A sable, silent, solemn forest stood; Where nought but shadowy forms were seen to move, And up the hills, on either side, a wood The murmuring main was heard, and scarcely heard to flow. VI. A pleasing land of drowsy-head it was, Of dreams that wave before the half-shut eye; VII. The landscape such, inspiring perfect ease, Where Indolence (for so the wizard hight) Close-hid his castle mid embowering trees, That half-shut out the beams of Phoebus bright, And made a kind of checker'd day and night; Mean while, unceasing at the massy gate, Beneath a spacious palm, the wicked wight Was placed; and to his lute, of cruel fate, And labour harsh, complain'd, lamenting man's estate. VIII. Thither continual pilgrims crowded still, For, as they chanced to breathe on neighbouring hill, And drew them ever and anon more nigh; Till clustering round th' enchanter false they hung, While o'er the enfeebling lute his hand he flung, IX. "Behold! ye pilgrims of this earth, behold! "See all but man with unearn'd pleasure gay: "See her bright robes the butterfly unfold, "Broke from her wintry tomb in prime of May! "What youthful bride can equal her array? "Who can with her for easy pleasure vie? "From mead to mead with gentle wing to stray, "From flower to flower on balmy gales to fly, "Is all she has to do beneath the radiant sky. X. "Behold the merry minstrels of the morn, "The swarming songsters of the careless grove, "Ten thousand throats! that, from the flowering "thorn, "Hymn their good God, and carol sweet of love, "Such grateful kindly raptures them emove: "They neither plough nor sow; ne, fit for flail, "E'er to the barn the nodden sheaves they drove; "Yet theirs each harvest dancing in the gale, "Whatever crowns the hill, or smiles along the vale. |