Page:Blackwood's Magazine volume 046.djvu/447

1839.] :Tas.A thousand thanks Unto the gracious Duke.
 * Mont.You are pale, my friend—

'Tis plain you are far from well. At court They tell us you are often troubled with These fits of melancholy.
 * Tas.How! my Lord?
 * Mont. Yet the expression of your face has not

That frightful air such patients often have.
 * Tas. My Lord, I am not so mad as they may think

At court. At least I can distinguish still The worthy man from But proceed—your errand?
 * Mont. See now, I always told his highness, when

We spoke of your misfortune, it was nothing But some corporeal malady that springs From bile diseased, and which at times breaks out In fancies.
 * Tas. (aside.) Patience!—grant me patience, Heaven!
 * Mont. Yourself are much to blame for your condition.

In many good gifts you are not deficient— Gifts that are known and praised as they deserve; But, pardon me, you have indulged too much A vain and overweening fantasy, And hopes, which, if they were not criminal, At least were foolish.
 * Tas. (Sighing.)That is true!
 * Mont.You poets

Are, it is said, an irritable race— All things offend you. Now, confess it fairly, The Delia Crusca's censure of your poem Has given you more vexation than it ought.
 * Tas. Not so, fair sir! If what I write be good,

'Tis not the critic's voice can make it ill. Try it, indeed, they may! A voice within Tells me to trust the spirit that inspires me. I have given delight to many a feeling heart; I've seen the tear in many an eye, which, raised Above this low existence by my strain, Soar'd on my fancy's wing, and many thanks From worthy men and noble dames were mine— What care I for the Crusca or its censure!
 * Mont. Ha! ha! I give you joy, good friend.
 * Tas.Laugh on.

The art which God has given me, is to me A blessing, which for none on earth I'd barter. Not folly, dulness, envy, persecution, Not even imprisonment, can tear it from me. The rescued treasure rests within my breast, And sleeps secure against a better time. The gift of God I never have degraded— I never courted mean applause; my strain Has sounded only for the great and good. Humble me—persecute me:—Be it so: Laugh at my dreams, if laughable they seem— I leave you your advantage in the world; But leave me mine, which you need little envy.
 * Mont. I grudge it not, Torquato; nor desire

My dreams should ever lead me to St Anne's.
 * Tas. Right! very right! And yet, Montecatino,

Far as you stand in fortune's light befoie me, At court so favour'd, so esteem'd; so much Of honour gain'd, and hoping more to win, In all the sunshine of a master's favour— While I am banish'd by his wrath, to dwell Forsaken, sick, calumniated, here;