For the Sovereignty of the Island of Barbados.
WHERE high Olympus lifts his head in clouds,
And his majestic form in darkness shrouds;
By mortal eyes unseen, the throne of Jove
Reflects it’s glories on the world above.
Of burnished gold, with glittering gems array’d,
Superb it shines with polish’d stones inlaid.
Gold is the pavement of the splendid court,
To which th’ Assemblies of the skies resort.
It’s brilliant ceiling is high Heaven’s rich dome,
Far as th’ Imperial eye of Jove can roam.
E’en to th’ extent of space his power extends,
And thro’ the realms of Air to higher worlds ascends.
“Here He, whose conscious eyes the world behold,”
“Th’ eternal Thunderer, sits enthron’d in gold,”
With his right arm he holds the spacious world,
And from his left his thundering bolts are hurl’d,
From his all-piercing eyes the lightnings play,
And brighten all Olympus with their ray;
Thron’d in the midst he sits; while all around
In bright array the heavenly Powers are found.
Close to the Thunderer sits his awful Queen,
Soon known as Heaven’s high Empress by her mien.
Imperial state reposes on her brow,
While in her eye the fires of beauty glow.
To his fair Queen the mighty Lord of Heaven
Divided empire of the world has given,
And through the mansions of the bright abodes
Great Juno reigns, the Mother of the Gods.
Not far remov’d, Minerva stands confest
In all the matchless pomp of beauty drest;
No more beneath the helmet, close confin’d,
Her golden locks stream beauteous in the wind;
No more she thunders from the walls of Greece,
But bids the slaughtering Nations dwell in peace;
No more she ranges thro’ the walks of war,
Nor thro’ the skies directs her blazing Car;
No more to brave Tydides’ aid she flies,
Nor longer listens to Achilles’ cries;
No more she leaves the bright abodes above,
But there awaits the high commands of Jove.
No more in her the fire of war is seen,
But Wisdom, Majesty, adorn her mien;
No more the light’ning flashes from her eye,
Calm and serene she treads the azure sky.
‘The labour’d veil, her heavenly fingers wove,’
‘Floats in rich waves around the court of Jove,’
A conscious greatness in her air is seen,
And she, at once, is known as wisdom’s Queen.
Near her, the Goddess of the laughing Loves
Sits in her chariot drawn by milk-white Doves;
Around her waist the mystic Cestus twines,
And o’er her head the light of Beauty shines;
The Rose and Myrtle bloom beneath her eye,
And shed their perfumes o’er the spangl’d sky.
Sacred to her is every fragrant bower,
Her’s is the blush of morn, the opening flower,
The Hosts of Heaven submissive own her sway,
And Jove himself must her commands obey.
‘To her soft power a hundred Altars rise,’
‘And breathing odours scent the balmy skies.’
And there behold, in splendid arms array’d
Mars’ mighty Sister, War’s triumphant maid;
Her radiant helmet flashes from afar,
As, terrible, she guides her flying car,
Her fiery coursers trace th’ etherial plains,
And her strong arm directs the golden reins.
Near her the God of war with fury glows,
And round his wheels the stream of carnage flows;
Impetuous, restless, terrible and strong,
Mars and Bellona urge their steeds along.
Not distant far, the Goddess of the chase
Her silver chariot guides with matchless grace;
In hunting garb appears the beauteous Maid,
“Queen of the silver bow,” the moonlight glade;
A radiant crescent on her stately brow,
Bids her own charms with milder lustre glow.
Next, at her side, the great Apollo shines,
Around his brows the favour’d laurel twines;
He strikes with magic hand his heav’nly lyre,
And wraps in extasy th’ Immmortal Choir;
Bright rays of Genius from his forehead dart,
And kindle rapture in each heav’nly heart.
His soul-transporting Lyre’s harmonious sound
First raised the walls of Ilion from the ground;
Proud Troy once hail’d him as her guardian God,
And victory follow’d when Apollo trod.
He spread confusion o’er the Grecian host,
And made each Trojan faithful to his post.
He left his laurel shades and myrtle bowers,
To thunder once from Ilion’s lofty towers!
His sole employ is now to tune the lyre,
And bid the Poet’s bosom glow with fire,
Around him move the fair Immortal Nine,
Who on Parnassus tune their harps divine;
With smiling chaplets each fair brow is crown’d,
On earth adored, and in the skies renown’d.
Their’s is the task the youthful Bard to fire,
And chosen breasts with genius to inspire;
To lead the thirsty to Castalia’s fount,
And guide th’ aspiring to Parnassus’ mount.
First Clio shines, the great historic muse,
Who loves the page of glory to peruse;
Who leads th’ inquiring mind to backward time,
Unfolds the annals of each age and clime,
Displays the rise of Empire, and it’s fall,
While Heroes long departed hear her call,
Their fluttering spirits pass before her view,
Their souls reflected in her mirror true.
Thalia next reveals her laughing face,
The abode of every smile, and every grace;
The mimic train of Comedy she guides,
And o’er the comic Author’s brain presides;
She bids his pencil folly’s scenes pourtray,
And thro’ the walks of wit she leads the way.
Next, cloth’d in black, and beauteous thro’ her tears,
The Tragic Muse, Melpomene, appears;
On great Alcides’ club one hand is laid,
The other points to Death’s dark, gloomy shade;
The brilliant actions of the times of old,
Her’s is the task to picture and unfold.
The fair Euterpe next, presents to view
Her smiling graces, ever varying, new;
Th’ Inventress of the Flute, whose magic note
In moonlight glades, and twilight groves will float;
This in her hand she holds; while, at her feet
The varied instruments of Music meet.
Terpsichore next, will shine divinely fair,
One foot on Earth, the other sports in air;
Muse of the dance, she guides the festive throng,
And, light as Ocean’s foam, she guides along.
With roses crown’d, and in her hand a lyre,
Erato comes, soft passion to inspire.
Lovers to her address the constant prayer,
And pay their vows to this Immortal Fair.
She bids their numbers flow, their verses move,
And her’s the triumphs, the complaints of Love.
Polymnia, veil’d in white, with laurels crown’d,
Of splendid Rhetoric, the muse renown’d;
From her , the powers of harmony divine
Proceeded first of all the tuneful Nine;
To her , the Orator must daily kneel,
For eloquence and talent, strength and Zeal;
With sweet persuasion she adorns his speech,
And none, without her, can perfection reach.
Urania next cloth’d in an azure robe,
Studded with stars, and in her hand a globe;
The splendid Orbs, that deck th’ Etherial plains,
She ranges, orders, and their course restrains;
She guides the heavenly music of the spheres,
And fixes times and seasons, months and years.
And last, Calliope’s majestic mien,
Amid the radiant Nine , of Heaven is seen.
The Patroness of Eloquence, Music, Fame,
Still to her voice divine, she owes her name ;
The Epic Bard is her peculiar care;
First , to her heart, the Grecian muse is dear–
Next , she regards with love the Mantuan swain,
Third, Milton shines, conspicuous in her train.
These are the Nine, who round Apollo move,
Who haunt the limpid spring, the shady grove;
Who love, in Tempe’s vale, retired to dwell,
And bid the Lute, with sounds harmonic, swell;
These are the Nine, in midnight’s hour of gloom.
Who, silent, watch o’er Petrarch’s sacred tomb;
Who bid the Laurel wave, the Cypress weep,
In the famed spot where Virgil’s ashes sleep;
These, on the banks of famed Ilyssus rove,
And wake the sounding shell to notes of Love;
And these, in happy Britain’s favour’d Isle,
Weave their light wreaths, dispense their sunny smile.
Where classic Isis winds his course along,
Th’ immortal sisters tune the magic Song;
And where proud Oxford’s lofty spires arise,
They join their sweetest, wildest harmonies.
In Windsor’s forest, and in Hagley’s glades,
On Thames’s banks, in Eton’s classic shades,
Th’ harmonious Sisters still delighted stray,
And strew their choicest garlands in the way;
These now in Heaven, on seats of gold reposed,
Or tuned their harps, or sweetest lays composed.
Here Vesta, Ceres, Cybele reclined,
And there “the God who mounts the winged wind;”
And beauteous Hebe, ever young and fair,
Displays her rosy smiles and graces there;
Her azure eye is Love’s imperial Throne,
And every laughing beauty is her own;
The rich Ambrosia is by her supplied,
And from her goblet flows the Nectar’d tide.
There, smiling, sits the jovial God of Wine,
While round his brows, the vine and ivy twine.
All these Immortals, in the realms above
Now wait the mandate of Almighty Jove.
When, swift as air, along the yielding skies,
A sylph-like form on winged breezes flies;
His course he held o’er all th’ etherial plain
And landed soon amid the heav’nly train.
Emotion wild, assail’d each wondering breast,
For, on Olympus stood–the God of Love confest!
No smiling graces revell’d in his eye,
His voice had lost it’s heav’nly harmony;
His bow and quiver now neglected hung,
His lute was silent, and it’s chords unstrung,
No soften’d beauties o’er his features play’d,
His laughing brows were wrapt in gloomy shade,
Disdainful anger flashes from his eye,
And his revengeful arm is raised on high,
Then, with a light’ning glance, and threat’ning tone,
Regardless still of Jove’s imperial throne,
He thunder’d thus throughout the blest abodes,
Unmindful of the Sire of Men and Gods;
“Hear, ye Immortals! ye, to whom is given
“Imperial sway o’er Earth, and Air, and Heaven;
“And chiefly thou, refulgent Queen of Love,
“And thou, all-conquering, all-commanding Jove,
“Hear my appeal to all the Powers above!
At this address from one she held so dear,
Fair Venus rose, her Son’s appeal to hear;
‘Her sweeping robe trailed pompous as she trod,’
‘And her majestic Port confessed the God.
“Ye know, says Cupid, that my wond’rous Power
“E’en Gods must own, and subject worlds adore;
“E’en to th’ extensive earth’s remotest bounds,
“My power is dreaded, and my fame resounds!
“What laid the lofty Towers of Ilion low?
“What caused destruction, carnage, death and woe?
“Did not my power young Paris’ breast inspire,
“Put Greece in arms, and set all Troy on fire?
“Did not a C
(Mary Abel Clinckett)
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Based on Keywords: mantuan, vesta, clio, cybele, castalia, extasy, slaughtering, revell, euterpe, cestus, harmonic