Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE POWER OF DESTINY, by MARY WHATELEY


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE POWER OF DESTINY, by                    
First Line: Sure some malignant star diffused its ray
Last Line: Had saved the poet from -- the poet's curse.
Alternate Author Name(s): Darwall, Mrs. John
Subject(s): Fate; Poetry & Poets; Destiny


SURE some malignant star diffused its ray,
When first my eyes beheld the beams of day;
Whose baleful influence made me dip in ink,
And write in rhyme before I knew to think.
Had Fate, propitious to my wish, assigned
Me, wayward girl, of man's superior kind,
This strong propensity had marred each scheme,
And prudence yielded to a golden dream.
Perhaps I'd then been bred a learned divine,
With Greek and Hebrew in this head of mine;
With musty classics stuffed, dry grammar rules,
And all the specious lumber of the schools:
Yet, had an itch for scribbling filled my brain,
This care and cost had been bestowed in vain.
Or had I, studious of the healing art,
Been taught with care to act old Galen's part,
Perused Hippocrates's laboured page,
And thumbed with reverence each time-honoured sage;
Yet when, from college rules and orders free,
My pen had once regained its liberty,
Thoughtless of gain, and warm with fancied fire,
I certainly had quitted Mead and Floyer,
For Milton, Shakespeare, Dryden, Pope and Young,
And left Sanctorius for an idle song;
Strother, Boerhaave, and Celsus had given way
To a smart satire or a roundelay:
For who, bemused, and in a rhyming strain,
Could mark the various fibres of the brain?
Leave all the dear ideas fancy forms,
To learn the strange effect of snails and worms?
Try with what qualities each drug is fraught,
And praise the virtues of some nauseous draught?
Had I been bred at Gray's or Lincoln's Inn,
'Mid lawsuits, empty quibbles, doubts and din,
Attended duly at the wrangling hall,
And learned to baffle, bluster, bounce and bawl:
Yet with impatience in the long vacation,
I should have left this profitable station;
Have quitted Salkeld and the lawyer's gown,
And all the gay amusements of the town;
Have fled in raptures to the peaceful grange,
And left Coke, Carthew, Nelson, Wood and Strange,
Hughes, Hale and Hawkins, Bacon, King and Cay,
For Swift, Hill, Congreve, Cowley, Garth and Gay;
And in some cot, retired from crowd and noise,
Have sought serene delights and rural joys;
Mused by a fountain, slept beneath a tree,
And, 'stead of drafts, composed -- an elegy.
Inspired by Silvia's eyes, or Daphne's air,
Or Cynthia's rosy cheeks, and curling hair,
My most exalted wish, and only aim,
Had been to eternise the favourite dame:
Her charms in softest numbers to express,
And paint my passion in the liveliest dress.
In short, whatever my employ had been,
It soon had yielded to this darling sin:
And naught but Russel's land, or Gideon's purse,
Had saved the poet from -- the poet's curse.





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