THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 lOS ANGELES
 
 THE 
 
 MUSES' BOWER, 
 
 EMBELLISHED WITH 
 
 THE 
 
 BEAUTIES OF ENGLISH POETRY. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR W. PLANT PIERCY, HOLBORN-BlLt. 
 BT J. M'CREERT, fleet-street. 
 
 /; 
 
 1809. 
 
 .
 
 CT '^n?;//\ T ' 
 
 liiU/ (;: 
 
 i n^I.ID
 
 Mf7:^ 
 I/'/ 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LYRICAL AND PATHETIC 
 
 PIECES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 A<^AC\n^AA
 
 PREFATORY ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 1 HE works of the British Poets are now become 
 o extremely voluminous, as frequently to render 
 somewhat difficult of access, a considerable portion 
 of the most beautiful pieces of poetic composition. 
 In this view of the subject, a compilation of the 
 most admired productions of many eminent authors, 
 appears particularly calculated, not only to obviate 
 such an inconvenience, but also to promote that de- 
 gree of mental gratification which has ever been 
 found to result from the cultivation of this depart- 
 ment of belles lettres. In the selection which is 
 here presented to the reader, the Editor has endea- 
 voured to concentrate within the limits of the fol- 
 lowing volumes, a collection of the sublimest ef- 
 &sions, and most elegant compositions of the Bbt- 
 b2
 
 IV 
 
 TISH Muse ; and at the Same time to exhibit (if he 
 may be so far allowed the expression) a panoramic 
 display of the Beauties of Poetry. Under 
 these considerations, it is presumed the Selection will 
 not be without its use, even to those who may pos- 
 sess the entire works from which the compilation has 
 been made.
 
 CONTENTS OF VOL, I. 
 
 THE Passions, an Ode for Music. Collins . . 1 
 
 Ode on St. Cecilia's Day. . . . Pope ... 6 
 
 Alexander's Feast. ...... Dry den . . 12 
 
 An Ode of Petrarch to the Fountain 
 
 qf Valchiusa Sir W. Jones 18 
 
 Laura, an Elegy from Petrarch. . Idem ... 21 
 
 A Turkish Ode of Mesihi. . . . Idem ... 28 
 
 Monody to the Memory ofMrs.Lyttelton Lord Lyttelton 31 
 
 Rural Elegance Shenstone . . 44 
 
 Winter Amusements. Anstey ... 56 
 
 Tlie Man of Sorrow Grevilk , . 59 
 
 A Prayer for Indifference . . . Mrs. Greville 62 
 
 The Fairy's Answer to Mrs. Greville Countess of C. 65 
 
 An Evening Address to the Nightingale Shaxv ... 68 
 
 Elegy to Pity R. ... 73 
 
 Recollections in Adversity ... J. M. ... 75 
 Elegy to the Memory of an unfortu- 
 nate Lady . Pope ... 77
 
 Tl CONTENTS. 
 
 I 
 
 Dirge in Cymheline Collins . , 81 
 
 Ode to Pity Idem ... 83 
 
 Ode to Evening Idem ... 85 
 
 Ode to Simplicity Idem ... 87 
 
 Ode, written in the year \1^Q . . Idem ... 89 
 
 Ode to Mercy Idem ... 90 
 
 Ode to Fear . Idem ... 92 
 
 II Bellicoso 3Iason . . 95 
 
 II Pacifico Idem -. . . 103 
 
 V Allegro Milton . . 109 
 
 UPenseroso Idem . . . 115 
 
 Pallia, an Elegiac Ode .... Mickle . . 122 
 
 Ode to Wisdom Mrs. Carter 129 
 
 TAe Tranquil Evening .... Idem . . . 133 
 
 To the Feathered Race .... Graves , . 135 
 
 TTie Beggar's Petition .... Anon . . . 137 
 
 Ode to Spring Mrs. Barbauld 139 
 
 Ode to Content Idem . . , . 142 
 
 Ode to Morning Anon . . . 145 
 
 Ode to Solitude Grainger . 14S 
 
 On the Death of Addison . . . Tickell . .' 158
 
 * 
 
 CONTENTS. Vii 
 
 Cynthia, an Elegiac Poem . . , Dr. Percy . 163 
 The Latvyer's Farewell to his Muse Judge Blackstone 168 
 
 The Fireside . Cotton . . 172 
 
 The Triumph of Indifference . . Anon . . 176 
 
 The Tears of Scotland .... Smollett . . 180 
 
 Ode to Leven Water ..... Idem . . 182 
 
 Ode on Melancholy Mason . . 184 
 
 Ode to Fancy ....... J. Warton . 187 
 
 Ode on the Spring Idem . . 193 
 
 Ode to Evening Idem . . 194 
 
 T/te Hamlet T. Warton 196 
 
 The Suicide Idem . . 198 
 
 The First of April Idem . . 203 
 
 Ode on the Approach of Summer . Idem . . 207 
 
 Ode on the Spring Gray . . 221 
 
 On the Death of a favourite Cat drown- 
 ed in a Tub of Gold Fishes . . Idem . . 223 
 On a distant Prospect of Eton College Idem . . 225 
 
 Ode to Adversity Idem . . 229 
 
 The Triumphs of Owen .... Idem . . 232 
 
 The Bard ' . . Idem . . 234
 
 Viii CONTENTS. 
 
 The Progress of Poesy .... Gray . . 242 
 
 Ode on lA/ric Poetry . . . . : Akenside . 248 
 
 Ode tO' the Earl of Huntingdon . . Idem . . 254 
 
 Ode in imitation of Alcaus . . ; Sir W. Jones 265 
 Ode on the Institution of the Order of 
 
 the Garter G. ^rcst . 267 
 
 ERRATA. 
 
 Page 43, last line, for ne'er read e'er. 
 
 118, line 6, for hightest read lugUcit. 
 
 \L.
 
 THE PASSIONS. ^,1^ 
 
 < ..i AN ODE FOR MUSIC. 
 
 .'',:nn" . 
 
 [COLLINS.] r, ft 
 
 VV HEN Music, heavenly maid, was young. 
 While yet in early Greece she sung. 
 The Passions oft, to hear her shell, / 
 
 Throng'd around her magic cell. 
 Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting, 
 Possest beyond the Muse*s painting ; [ 
 
 By turns they felt the glowing mind 
 Disturb 'd, delighted, rais'd, refin'd; 
 Till once, 'tis said, when all were fir'd, /^^ 
 Fill'd with fury, rapt, inspir'd. 
 From the supporting myrtles round 
 They snatch'd her instruments of sound ; 
 And, as they oft had heard apart /,,A 
 
 Sweet lessons of her forceful art, /; ; ; /i. 
 
 Each (for Madness rul'd the hour) ; If 
 Would prove his own expressive powier. 
 
 VOL, I. B
 
 3 THE PASSIONS. [COLLINS. 
 
 First Fear his hand, its skill to try. 
 
 Amid the chords bewilder'd laid. 
 And back recoil'd, he knew not why, 
 
 Ev'n at the sound himself had made. 
 
 Next Anger rush'd ; his eyes on fire. 
 In lightnings own'd his secret stings : 
 
 In one rude clash he struck the lyre. 
 And swept with hurried hand the strings. 
 
 With woful measures wan Despair 
 Low, sullen sounds his grief beguil'd ; 
 
 A solemn, strange, and mingled air ; 
 *Twas sad by fits, by starts 'twas wild. 
 
 But thou, O Hope, with eyes so fair. 
 What was thy delighted measure ? 
 Still it whisper'd promis'd pleasure. 
 And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail ! 
 Still would her touch the strain prolong ; 
 
 And from the rocks, the woods, the vale. 
 She caird on Echo still, through all the song ; 
 And, where her sweetest theme she chose, 
 A soft responsive voice was heard at ev'ry close ; 
 And Hope enchanted smil'd, and wav'd her golden 
 hair.
 
 COLLINS.] THE PASSIONS. 3 
 
 And longer had she sung ; but, with a frown. 
 
 Revenge impatient rose : 
 He threw his blood-stain'd sword in thunder down ; 
 
 And, with a withering look. 
 
 The war-denouncing trumpet took. 
 And blew a blast so loud and dread. 
 Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of wo! 
 
 And, ever and anon, he beat 
 
 The- doubling drum, with furious heat ; 
 And, though sometimes, each dreary pause between. 
 
 Dejected Pity, at his side. 
 
 Her soul-subduing voice applied. 
 Yet still he kept his wild unalter'd mien. 
 While each strain'd ball of sight seem'd bursting *om 
 his head. 
 
 Thy numbers. Jealousy, to nought were fix*d ; 
 
 Sad proof of thy distressful state ! 
 Of differing themes the veering song was mix'd ; 
 
 And now it courted Love, now raving call'd on Hate. 
 
 With eyes up-rais'd, as one inspir'd. 
 Pale Melancholy sat retir'd ; 
 And, from her wild sequester'd seat. 
 In notes by distance made more sweet, 
 Pour'd through the mellow horn her pensive soul : 
 b2
 
 4 THE PASSIONS. [COLLINS. 
 
 And, dashing soft from rocks around. 
 
 Bubbling runnels join'd the sound ; 
 Through glades and glooms the mingled measure stole. 
 Or, o'er some haunted streams, with fond delay. 
 
 Round an holy calm diffusing. 
 
 Love of peace, and lonely musing. 
 In hollow murmurs died away. 
 
 But O ! how altered was its sprightlier tone 
 When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue. 
 
 Her bow across her shoulder flung. 
 Her buskins gem'd with morning dew. 
 
 Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung. 
 The hunter's call, to Faun and Dryad known. ' 
 The oak-crown'd Sisters, and their chaste-ey'd Queen, 
 Satyrs and Sylvan Boys were seen. 
 Peeping from forth their alleys green : 
 Brown Exercise rejoic'd to bear. 
 And Sport leap'd up, and seiz'd his beechen spear. 
 
 Last came Joy's ecstatic trial : 
 
 He with viny crown advancing. 
 First to the lively pipe his hand addrest ; 
 But soon he saw the brisk awakening viol. 
 
 Whose sweet entrancing voice he lov'd the best. 
 Tliey would have thought who heard the strain.
 
 COLLINS.] THE PASSIONS. 
 
 They saw, in Tempe's vale, her native maids. 
 Amidst the festal sounding shades. 
 To some unwearied minstrel dancing. 
 
 While, as his flying fingers kiss'd the sti-ings. 
 Love fram'd with Mirth a gay fantastic round: 
 Loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound ; 
 And he, amidst his frolic play. 
 As if he would the charming air repay. 
 
 Shook thousand odours from his dewy wings, 
 
 O Music! sphere -descended maid. 
 Friend of Pleasure, Wisdom's aid ! 
 Why, goddess ! why, to us denied, 
 Lay'st thou thy ancient lyre aside ? 
 As, in that lov'd Athenian bower. 
 You learn'd an all-commanding power. 
 Thy mimic soul, O Nymph endear'd. 
 Can well recall what then it heard. 
 Where is thy native simple heart. 
 Devote to Virtue, Fancy, Art ? 
 Arise, as in that elder time. 
 Warm, energetic, chaste, sublime ! 
 Thy wonders, in that godlike age. 
 Fill thy recording Sister's page 
 'Tis said, and I believe the tale. 
 Thy humblest reed could more prevail.
 
 ODE ON ST. Cecilia's day. [porE* 
 
 Had more of strength, diviner rage. 
 Than all which charms this laggard age, 
 Ev'n all at once together found, 
 Cecilia's mingled world of sound 
 O bid our vain endeavours cease. 
 Revive the just designs of Greece : 
 Return in all thy simple state ! 
 Confirm the tales her sons relate ! 
 
 ODE ON ST. CECILIA'S DAY. 
 
 [pope.] 
 
 Descend, ye Nine ! descend and sing ; 
 The breathing instruments inspire. 
 Wake into voice each silent string, 
 And sweep the sounding lyre ! 
 In a sadly-pleasing strain 
 Let the warbling lute complain : 
 
 Let the loud trumpet sound. 
 
 Till the roofs all around 
 
 The shrill echos rebound : 
 While in more lengthen'd notes and slow. 
 The deep, majestic, solemn organs blow.
 
 POPE.] ODE ON ST. CECILIa's DAY. 
 
 Hark ! the numbers soft and clear. 
 
 Gently steal upon the ear ; 
 
 Now louder and yet louder rJse, 
 
 And fill with spreading sounds the skies : 
 Exulting in triumph now swell the bold notes. 
 In broken air, trembling, the wild music floats ; 
 
 Till, by degi-ees, remote and small. 
 The strains decay, 
 And melt away 
 
 In a dying, dying fall. 
 
 By Music, minds an equal temper know. 
 
 Nor swell too high, nor sink too low. 
 If in the breast tumultuous joys arise. 
 Music her soft, assuasive voice applies ; 
 Or, when the soul is pressed with cares. 
 Exalts her in enlivening airs. 
 Warriors she fires with animated sounds : 
 Pours balm into the bleeding lover's wounds: 
 Melancholy lifts her head, 
 Morpheus rouses from his bed. 
 Sloth unfolds her arms and wakes, 
 List'ning Envy drops her snakes ; 
 Intestine war no more our Passions wage. 
 And giddy Factions hear away their rage.
 
 8 ODE OK ST. Cecilia's day. [pope. 
 
 But when our country's cause provokes to arms^ 
 How martial music every bosom warms ! 
 So when the first bold vessel dar'd the seas. 
 High on the stern the Thracian rais'd his strain. 
 While Argo saw her kindred trees 
 
 Descend from PeUon to the main. 
 Transported demi-gods stood round. 
 And men grew heroes at the sound, 
 Enflam'd with glory's charms : 
 Each chief his sev'nfold shield display'd. 
 And half unsheath'd the shining blade : 
 
 And seas, and rocks, and skies reboun<i :ty.^-\tlf. 
 To arms, to arras, to arms ! 
 
 But when thro' aU th' infernal bounds. 
 Which flaming Phlegethon surrounds. 
 Love, strong as Death, the Poet led 
 To the pale nations of the dead. 
 What sounds were heard. 
 What scenes appear'd. 
 O'er all the dreary coasts ! 
 Dreadful gleams. 
 Dismal screams. 
 Fires that glow. 
 Shrieks of woe. 
 Sullen moans. 
 Hollow groans.
 
 POPE.] ODE ON ST. CECILIa's DAY. 
 
 And cries of tortur'd ghosts ! 
 But hark ! he strikes the golden lyre ; 
 And see ! the tortur'd ghosts respire. 
 See, shady forms advance ! 
 Thy stone, O Sisyphus, stands still, 
 Ixion rests upon his wheel. 
 
 And the pale spectres dance ! 
 The Furies sink upon their iron beds. 
 And snakes uncurlM hang list'ning round their heads. 
 
 By the streams that ever flow. 
 
 By the fragrant winds that blow 
 O'er th' Elysian flow'rs ; 
 
 By those happy souls who dwell 
 
 In yellow meads of Asphodel,, 
 Or Amaranthine bow'rs ; 
 
 By the heroes' armed shades, 
 
 Glitt'ring thro' the gloomy glades ; 
 
 By the youths that died for love, 
 
 Wand'ring in the myrtle grove. 
 Restore, restore Eurydice to life ! 
 Oh take the husband, or return the wife ! 
 
 He sung, and hell consented 
 To hear the poet's prayer : 
 * Stern Proserpine relented. 
 And gave him back the fair : 
 b3
 
 IP ODE ON ST. Cecilia's day. [popE' 
 
 Thus song could prevail 
 O'er death, and o'er hell, 
 A conquest how hard, and how glorious ! 
 Tho' fate had fast bound her 
 With Styx nine times round her. 
 Yet music and love were victorious. 
 
 But soon, too soon, the lover turns his eyes : 
 Again she falls, again she dies, she dies ! 
 How wilt thou now the fatal sisters move ? 
 No crime was thine, if 'tis no crime to love. 
 Now under hanging mountains. 
 Beside the falls of fountains. 
 Or where Hebrus wanders. 
 Rolling in meanders. 
 All alone. 
 
 Unheard, unknown. 
 
 He makes his moan j 
 
 And calls her ghost, 
 
 For ever, ever, ever lost ! 
 
 Now with Furies surrounded. 
 
 Despairing, confounded, , 
 
 He trembles, he glows. 
 Amidst Rhodope's snows : 
 See, wild as the winds, o'er the desert he flies ; 
 Hark ! Hsemus resounds with the Bacchanals' cries 
 
 Ah see, he dies !
 
 POPE.] ODE ON ST. CECILIa's DAY. 11 
 
 Yet ev^n in death Eurydice he sung, 
 Eurydice still trembled on his tongue, 
 
 Eurydice the woods, 
 
 Eurydice the floods, 
 Eurydice the rocks, and hollow mountains rung. 
 
 Music the fiercest grief can charm. 
 And fate's severest rage disarm : 
 Music can soften paip to ease. 
 And make despair and madness please : 
 Our joys below it can improve, 
 ,And antedate the bliss above. 
 This the divine Cecilia found. 
 And to her Maker's praise confin'd the sound; 
 When the full organ joins the tuneful quire, 
 
 Th' immortal pow'rs incline their ear ; 
 Borne on the swelling notes our souls aspire. 
 While solemn airs improve the sacred fire ; 
 
 And Angels lean firom heav'n to hear. 
 Of Orpheus now no more let poets tell. 
 
 To bright Cecilia greater pow'r is giv'n ; 
 His numbers rais'd a shade from hell, 
 Her's lift the soul to heav'n.
 
 ALEXANDER'S FEAST; 
 
 OB, THE POWEB OF MUSIC: 
 
 AN ODE, 
 
 In honour of St. Cecilia's Day, 
 
 [dryden.] 
 
 XwAS at the royal feast, for Persia won. 
 By Philip's warlike son : 
 Aloft, in awful state. 
 The god-like hero sate ^,.ioj_ a^. 
 On his imperial throne : 
 His valiant peers were placed around ;. 
 Their brows with roses and with myrtle bound : 
 So should desert in arms be crown'd. 
 The lovely Thais, by his side. 
 Sat, lik^ a -blooming eastern bride. 
 In flow'r of youth and beauty's pride. 
 Happy, happy,, happy pair ! 
 None but the brave. 
 None but the brave. 
 None but the brave deserves the fair.
 
 DRYDEN.3 Alexander's feast. 13 
 
 Timotheus, placed on high 
 Amid the tuneful quire. 
 With flying fingers touch'd the lyre : 
 The trembUng notes ascend the sky. 
 
 And heavenly joys inspire. 
 The song began from Jove, 
 Who left his blissful seats above. 
 Such is the pow'r of mighty love ! 
 A dragon's fiery form belied the God: ; 
 Sublime on radiant spheres he rode. 
 When he to fair Olympia press'd. 
 And while he sought her snowy, breast ; 
 Then, round her slender waist he curl'd. 
 And stamp*d an image of himself, a sovereign of the workL 
 The listening crowd admire the lofty sound, 
 A present deity! they shout around; ' 
 A present deity .' the vaulted roofs rebound.. 
 With ravish'd ears 
 .The monarch hears. 
 Assumes the god. 
 Affects to nod. 
 And seems to shake the spheres. 
 
 The praise of Bacchus, then, the sweet musician sung j 
 Of Bacchus ever fair, and ever young. 
 The jolly god in triumph comes ; 
 . Sound the trumpets, beat the drums y
 
 J14 Alexander's feast, [dryden. 
 
 Flush'd with a purple grace 
 He shews his honest face : 
 Now, give the hautboys breath ; he comes, he comes ! 
 Bacchus, ever fair and young. 
 
 Drinking joys did first ordain : 
 Bacchus' blessings are a treasure, 
 Dnnking is the soldier's pleasure ; 
 Rich the treasure. 
 Sweet the pleasure ; 
 Sweet is pleasure after pain. 
 
 Sooth'd with the sound, the king grew vain : 
 Fought all his battles o'er again ; 
 And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he slew the 
 slain. 
 The master saw the madness rise. 
 His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes ; 
 And, while he heav'n and earth defy'd, 
 Chang'd his hand, and check'd his pride. 
 He chose a mournful muse 
 . Soft pity to infuse ; 
 He sung Darius great and goo^ 
 .^ " By too severe a fate. 
 
 Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen. 
 Fallen from his high estate. 
 And weltering in his blood :
 
 DEYDEN.] Alexander's feast. \Sh 
 
 Deserted at his utmost need. 
 By those his former bounty fed. 
 On the bare earth expos'd he lies. 
 With not a friend to close his eyes. 
 With downcast looks the joyless victor sate. 
 Revolving in his alter'd soul 
 
 The various turns of fate below ; 
 And, now and then, a sigh he stole j 
 
 And tears began to flow. 
 
 The mighty master smil*d, to see 
 That love was in the next degree : 
 *Twas but a kindred sound to move. 
 For pity melts the mind to love. 
 
 Softly sweet, in Lydian measures. 
 
 Soon he sooth'd his soul to pleasures : 
 War, he sung, is toil and trouble ; 
 Honour but an empty bubble ; 
 
 Never ending, still beginning. 
 Fighting still, and still destroying : 
 
 If the world be worth thy winning. 
 Think, O, think it worth enjoying ; 
 
 Lovely Thais sits beside thee. 
 
 Take the good the gods provide thee. 
 The many rend the skies with loud applause ; 
 So love was crown'd, but music won the cause.
 
 1^ Alexander's feast. [dryden. 
 
 The prince, unablie to conceal his pain, 
 Gaz'd on the fair, 
 Who caus'd his care. 
 And sigh'd and look'd, sigh'd and look'd, 
 Sigh'd and look'd, and sigh'd again ; 
 At length, with love and wine at once oppress'd. 
 The vanquish'd victor sunk upon her breast. 
 Now strike the golden lyre again ; 
 A louder yet, and yet a louder strain. 
 Break his bands of sleep asunder. 
 And rouze him, like a rattling peal of thunder. 
 Hark, hark ! the horrid sound 
 Has rais'd up his head ; 
 As awak'd from the dead. 
 And amaz'd, he stares around. 
 Revenge, revenge ! Timotheus cries. 
 See the furies arise j 
 
 See the snakes, that they rear. 
 How they hiss in the air. 
 And the sparkles that flash from their eyes ! 
 Behold a ghastly band. 
 Each a torch in his hand ! 
 Those are Grecian ghosts, that in battle were slain 
 And, unburied, remain 
 Inglorious on the plain : 
 Give the vengeance due. 
 To the valiant crew.
 
 RYDEN.] Alexander's feast. 17 
 
 Behold how they toss their torches on high. 
 
 How they point to the Persian abodes. 
 And glitt'ring temples of their hostile gods I 
 The princes applaud, with a furious joy. 
 And the king seiz'd a flambeau, with zeal to destroy; 
 Thais led the way. 
 To light him to his prey. 
 And, like another Helen, fired another Troy. 
 
 Thus, long ago, 
 
 , Ere heaving bellows learn'd to blow, 
 
 " While organs yet were mute, 
 
 Timotheus, to his breathing flute, ^ j 
 
 And sounding lyre. 
 
 Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire. 
 
 At last divine Cecilia came, , _,, 
 
 iti ifjo 1 ~ 
 Inventress of the vocal frame ; 
 
 The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store, 
 
 Enlarg'd the former narrow bounds. 
 
 And added length to solemn sounds. 
 
 With nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before. 
 
 Let old Timotheus yield the prize. 
 
 Or both divide the crown ; 
 
 .He rais'd a mortal to the skies ; 
 
 She drew an angel down.
 
 AN ODE OF PETRARCH, 
 
 To the Fountain of Valchiusa. 
 
 [sir W. JONES.] 
 
 IE clear and sparkling streams ! 
 
 (Warm'd by the sunny beams,) 
 Through whose transparent crystal Laura play'd^ 
 
 Ye boughs, that deck the grove. 
 
 Where Spring her chaplets wove. 
 While Laura lay beneath the quivering shade ; 
 
 Sweet herbs ! and blushing flowers ! 
 
 That crown yon vernal bowers. 
 For ever fatal, yet for ever dear ; 
 
 And ye, that heard my sighs 
 
 When first she charm'd my eyes. 
 Soft-breathing gales ! my dying accents hear. 
 
 If heaven has fix'd my doom. 
 
 That Love must quite consume 
 My bursting heart, and close my eyes in death j 
 
 Ah ! grant this slight request, 
 
 That, here, my urn may rest. 
 When to its mansion flies my vital breath.
 
 SIR W. JONES.] AN ODE Of PETKARCH. 1ft' 
 
 This pleasing hope will smooth 
 My anxious mind, and sooth 
 The pangs of that inevitable hour : 
 
 My spirit wiU not grieve 
 
 Her mortal veil to leave 
 In these calm shades, and this enchanting bow'r. 
 
 Haply the guilty maid 
 
 Through yon accustom'd glade 
 To my sad tomb will take her lonely way ; 
 
 Where first her beauty's light 
 
 O'erpower'd my dazzled sight. 
 When Love on this fair border bade me stray : 
 
 There, sorrowing, shall she see. 
 
 Beneath an aged tree. 
 Her true, but hapless lover's lowly bier; 
 
 Too late, her tender sighs 
 
 Shall melt the pitying skies. 
 And her soft veil shall hide the gushing tear. 
 
 O ! well-remember'd day. 
 
 When on yon bank she lay. 
 Meek in her pride, and in her rigour mild ; 
 
 The young and blooming flowers. 
 
 Falling in fragrant showers. 
 Shone on her neck, and on her bosom smil'd : 
 
 Some on her mantle hung. 
 Some in her locks were strung.
 
 20 -AN ODE OF PETRARCH. [siR W. JONES. 
 
 Like orient gems in rings of flaming gold ; 
 Some, in a spicy cloud 
 Descending, call'd aloud, 
 
 * Here Love and Youth the reins of empire hold.' 
 
 I view'd the heavenly maid : 
 And, rapt in wonder, said, 
 
 * The groves of Eden gave this angel birth ;* 
 
 Her look, her voice, her smile. 
 
 That might all heaven beguile. 
 Wafted my soul above the realms of earth : 
 
 The star-bespangled skies 
 
 Were open'd to my eyes ; 
 Sighing I said, ' Whence rose this glittering scene ?' 
 
 Since that auspicious hour. 
 
 This bank, and odorous bower, 
 * My morning couch, and evening haunt, have been. 
 
 Well mayst thou blush, my song. 
 
 To leave the rural throng. 
 And fly thus artless to my Laura's ear j 
 
 But, were thy poet's fire 
 
 Ardent as his desire. 
 Thou wert.a song that heaven might stoop to bear.
 
 LAURA; 
 
 AN 
 ELEGY FROM PETRARCH. 
 
 [ibid.] 
 
 Ikf this fair season, when the whispering gales 
 
 Drop showers of fragrance o'er the bloomy vales. 
 
 From bow'r to bow'r the vernal warblers play ; 
 
 The skies are cloudless, and the meads are gay ; 
 
 The nightingale in many a melting strain 
 
 Sings to the groves, ' Here Mirth and Beauty reign/ 
 
 But me, for ever bath'd in gushing tears. 
 
 No mirth enlivens, and no beauty cheers : 
 
 The birds that warble, and the flowers that bloom. 
 
 Relieve no more this solitary gloom. 
 
 I see where late the verdant rrieadow smil'd, 
 
 A joyless desert> and a dreary wild : 
 
 For those dear eyes, that pierc'd my heart before. 
 
 Are clos'd in death, and charm the world no more: 
 
 Lost are those tresses that outshone the morn. 
 
 And pale those cheeks that ;night the skies adorn.
 
 22 LAUUA. [sir W. JONKS. 
 
 Ah, death ! tliy hand has crop'd the fairest flower. 
 That shed its smiling rays in beauty's bower ; 
 Thy dart has lay'd on yonder sable bier 
 All my soul lov'd, and all the world held dear : 
 Celestial sweetness, love-inspiring youth, 
 Soft-ey'd benevolence, and white-rob'd truth. 
 
 Hard fate of man, on whom the heavens bestow 
 A drop of pleasure for a sea of wo ! 
 Ah, life of care, in fears or hopes consum'd. 
 Vain hopes, that wither ere they well have bloomM ! 
 How oft, emerging from the shades of night. 
 Laughs the gay mom, and spreads a purple light : 
 But soon the gathering clouds o'ershade the skies. 
 Red lightnings play, and thundering storms arise I 
 How oft a day, that fair and mild appears. 
 Grows dark with fate, and mars the toil of years ! 
 
 Not far removM, yet hid from distant eyes. 
 Low in her secret grot, a Naiad lies. 
 Steep arching rocks, with verdant moss o'ergrown. 
 Form her rude diadem, and native throne : 
 There, in a gloomy cave her waters sleep, 
 Cle&ras a brook^ but as an ocean deep. 
 Yet, when the waking flowers of April blow. 
 And warmer sunbeams melt the gather'd snow ;
 
 SIR W. JONES.] LAURA. 33 
 
 Rich with the tribute of the vernal rains. 
 The nymph, exulting, bursts her silver chains ; 
 Her living waves in sparkling columns rise. 
 And shine like rainbows to the sunny skies ; 
 From cliif to clifFthe falling waters roar ; 
 Then die in murmurs, and are heard no more. 
 Hence, softly flowing in a dimpled stream. 
 The crystal Sorga spreads a lively gleam ; 
 From which a thousand rills in mazes glide. 
 And deck the banks with summer^s gayest pride ; 
 Brighten the verdure of the smiling plains ; 
 And crown the labour of the joyful swains. 
 
 First, on these banks, (ah, dream of short delight !) 
 The charms of Laura struck my dazzled sight ; 
 Charms, that the bliss of Eden might restore. 
 That heaven might envy, and mankind adore. 
 I saw and O ! what heart could long rebel ? 
 I^saw, I lov'd, and bade the world farewell. 
 Where'er she moved, the meads were fresh and gay. 
 And every bower exhaled the sweets of May ; 
 Smooth flow'd the streams, and softly blew the gale j 
 The rising flowers impurpled every dale ; 
 Calm was the ocean, and the sky serene ; 
 An universal smile o'erspread the shining scene :
 
 24 LAURA. [sir W. JONES. 
 
 But when in death's cold arms entranc'd she lay, 
 
 (Ah, ever dear, yet ever fatal day !*) 
 
 O'er all the air a direful gloom was spread ; 
 
 Pale were the meads, and all their blossoms dead ; 
 
 The clouds of April shed a baleful dew ; 
 
 All nature wore a veil of deadly hue. 
 
 Go, plaintive breeze ! to Laura's flowery bier. 
 Heave the warm sigh, and shed the tender tear. 
 There to the awful shade due homage pay. 
 And softly thus address the sacred clay : 
 ' Say, envied earth ! that dost those charms infold, 
 ' Where are those cheeks, and where those locks of 
 
 gold ? 
 ' Where are those eyes, which oft the Muse has sung? 
 ' Where those sweet lips, and that enchanting tongue ? 
 ' Ye radiant tresses ! and thou, nectar'd smile ! 
 ' Ye looks that might the melting skies beguile ! 
 ' You robb'd my soul of rest, ray eyes of sleep ; 
 ' You taught me how to love, and how to weep.' 
 
 No shrub o'erhangs the dew-bespangled vale. 
 No blossom trembles to the dying gale, 
 
 Laara was first seen by Petrarch on the sixth of April 
 in the year 1327 ; and she died on the same day in 1348.
 
 SIR W. JONES.] LAURA. S5 
 
 No floweret blushes in the morning rays. 
 No stream along the winding valley plays. 
 But knows what anguish thrills my tortur'd breast. 
 What pains consume me, and what cares infest. 
 At blush of dawn, and in the gloom of night. 
 Her pale-eyed phantom swims before my sig^t. 
 Sits on the border of each purling rill. 
 Crowns every bower, and glides o'er every hill. 
 Flows the loud rivulet down the mountain's brow ? 
 Or pants the Zephyr on the waving bough ? 
 Or sips the labouring bee her balmy dews. 
 And with soft strains her fragrant toil pursues? 
 Or. warbles from yon silver- blossom'd thorn 
 The wakeful bird, that hails the rising morn ? 
 My liaura's voice, in many a soothing note. 
 Floats through the yielding air, or seems to float : 
 
 ' Why fill thy sighs,' she says, ' this lonely bower? 
 
 * Why down thy bosom flows this endless shower? 
 
 * Complain no more : but hope ere long to meet 
 ' Thy much-lov'd Laura in a happier seat. 
 
 ' Here, fairer scenes detain my parted shade ; 
 
 * Suns that ne'er set, and flowers that never fade : 
 
 * Through crystal skies I wing my joyous flight, 
 ' And revel in eternal bla^e of light ; 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 36 LAURA* [sir W. JONES. 
 
 ' See all thy wanderings in that vale of tears, 
 
 * And smile at all thy hopes, at all thy fears : 
 
 ' Death wak'd my soul, that slept in life before, 
 
 ' And opM these brighten'd eyes, to sleep no more.* 
 
 She ends : the Fates, that will no more reveal. 
 Fix on her closing lips their sacred seal. 
 
 * Return, sweet shade !' I wake, and fondly say, 
 ' O, cheer my gloom with one far-beaming ray ! 
 ' Return : thy charms my sorrow will dispel, 
 
 ' And snatch my spirit from her mortal cell ; 
 ' Then, mix'd with thine, exulting she shall fly, 
 
 * And bound enraptur'd through her native sky.' 
 She comes no more : my pangs more fierce retui'n ; 
 Tears gush in streams, and sighs my bosom burn. 
 Ye banks, that oft my weary limbs have borne. 
 
 Ye murmuring brooks, that learnt of me to mourn ; 
 
 Ye birds, that tune with me your plaintive lay ; 
 
 Ye groves, where Love once taught my steps to stray ; 
 
 You, ever sweet and ever fair, renew 
 
 Your strains melodious, and your blooming hue : 
 
 But not in my sad heart can bliss remain. 
 
 My heart, the haunt of never-ceasing pain ! 
 
 Henceforth, to sing in smoothly-warbled lays 
 The smiles of youth, and beauty's heavenly rays ;
 
 SIR W. JONES.] LAURA. 37 
 
 To see the morn her early charms tmfold. 
 Her cheeks of roses, and her curls of gold ; 
 Led by the sacred Muse, at noon to rove 
 O'er tufted mountain, vale, or shady grove ; 
 To watch the stars, that gild the lucid pole. 
 And view yon orbs in mazy order roll ; 
 To hear the tender nightingale complain. 
 And warble to the woods her amorous strain : 
 No more shall these my pensive soul delight. 
 But each gay vision melts in endless night. 
 
 Nymphs ! who in glimmering glades by moonlight 
 dance. 
 And ye, who through the liquid crystal glance. 
 Who oft have heard my sadly-pleasing moan ; 
 Behold me now a lifeless marble grown. 
 Ah ! lead me to the tomb where Laura lies ; 
 Clouds ! fold me round ; and, gather'd darkness ! rise ! 
 Bear me, ye gales ! in death's soft slumber lay'd ; 
 Ajid, ye bright realms, receive my fleeting shade. 
 
 o2
 
 A TURKISH ODE OF MESIHI. 
 
 [ibid.] 
 
 xIear! how the nightingales, on every spray> 
 Hail, in wild notes, the sweet return of May ! 
 The gale that o'er yon waving almond blows, 
 The verdant bank with silver blossoms strows ; 
 *'^^he smiling season decks each flowery glade. 
 Be gay : too soon the flowers of Spring will fade. 
 
 What gales of fragrance scent the vernal air ! 
 Hills, dales, and woods, their loveliest mantles wear. 
 Who knows what cares await that fatal day. 
 When ruder gusts shall banish gentle May ? 
 Ev'n death, perhaps, our vallies will invade. 
 Be gay : too soon the flowers of Spring will fade. 
 
 The tulip now its varied hue displays. 
 And sheds, like Ahmed's eye, celestial rays. 
 Ah, nation ever faithful, ever true. 
 The joys of youth, while May invites, pursue ! 
 Will not these notes your timorous minds persuade ? 
 Be gay : too soon the flowers of Spring will fade.
 
 SHI W. JONES.] A TURKISH ODE OF MESIHI. 39^ 
 
 The sparkling dewdrops o'er the lilies play. 
 Like orient pearls, or like the beams of day. 
 If love and mirth your wanton thoughts engage. 
 Attend ye nymphs ! a poet's words are sage ; 
 While thus you sit beneath the trembling shade, 
 Be gay : too soon the flowers of Spring will fade. 
 
 The fresh-blown rose like Zeineb's cheek appears. 
 When pearls, like dew-drops, glitter in her ears. 
 The charms of youth at once are seen and past ; 
 And nature says, ' They art too sweet to last.' 
 So blooms the rose ; and bo the blushing maid. 
 Be gay : too soon the flowers of Spring will fade. 
 
 See ! yon anemonies their leaves unfold. 
 With rubies flaming and with living gold. 
 While crystal showers from weeping clouds descend. 
 Enjoy the presence of thy tuneful friend : 
 Now, while the wines are brought, the sofa's laid. 
 Be gay : too soon the flowers of Spring will fade. 
 
 The plants no more are dried, the meadows dead. 
 No more the rose-bud hangs her pensive head : 
 The shrubs revive in vallies, meads, and bowers. 
 And every stalk is diadem'd with flowers ; 
 In silken robes each hillock stands array'd. 
 Be gay : too soon the flowers of Spring will fade.
 
 30 A TURKISH ODE OF MESIHI. [siR W. JONES. 
 
 Clear drops, each morn, impearl the rose's bloom. 
 And from its leaf the Zephyr drinks perfume ; 
 The dewy buds expand their lucid store : 
 Be this our wealth : ye damsels, ask no more. 
 Though wise men envy, and though fools upbraid. 
 Be gay : too soon the flowers of Spring will fade. 
 
 The dew-drops sprinkled, by the musky gale. 
 Are chang'd to essence ere they reach the dale. 
 The mild blue sky a rich pavilion spreads. 
 Without our labour, o'er our favour'd heads. 
 Let others toil in war, in arts, or trade : 
 Be gay : too soon the flowers of Spring will fade. 
 
 Late, gloomy winter chill'd the sullen air. 
 Till Soliman arose, and all was fair. 
 Soft, in his reign, the notes of love resound. 
 And pleasure's rosy cup goes freely round. 
 Here on the bank, which mantling vines o'ershade. 
 Be gay : too soon the flowers of Spring will fade. 
 
 May this rude lay from age to age remain, 
 A true memorial of this lovely train. 
 Come, charming maid ! and hear thy poet sing. 
 Thyself the rose, and he the bird of spring : 
 Love bids him sing, and Love will be obey'd. 
 Be gay : too soon the flowers of Spring will fade.
 
 A MONODY, 
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF Mrs. LYTTELTON. 
 1747. 
 
 [lOBD LYTTELTON.*] 
 I. 
 
 At length ^scap'd from every human eye. 
 
 From every duty, every care. 
 
 That in my mournful thoughts might claim a share. 
 Or force my tears their flowing stream to dry ; 
 Beneath the gloom of this embowering shade. 
 This lone retreat, for tender sorrow made, 
 I now may give my burden'd heart relief. 
 And pour forth all my stores of grief j 
 Of grief surpassing every other wo. 
 
 Far as the purest bliss, the happiest love 
 Can on th' ennobled mind bestow. 
 
 Exceeds the vulgar joys that move 
 Our gross desires, inelegant and low. 
 
 * His Lordship, it may be observed, bad not attained the 
 dignity of a peerage till some years after this monody wf^ 
 written. /
 
 32 MONODY, TO THE [lOBD LYTTELTOJt. 
 
 II. 
 
 Ye tufted groves, ye gently-falling rills. 
 
 Ye high o'er-shadowing hills. 
 
 Ye lawns gay-smiling with eternal green. 
 
 Oft have you my Lucy seen ! 
 
 But never shall you now behold her more : 
 
 Nor will she now with fond delight 
 And taste rcfm'd, your rural charms explore. 
 
 Clos'd are those beauteous eyes in endless night. 
 Those beauteous eyes where beaming us'd to shine 
 Reason' pure light, and Virtue's spark divine. 
 
 III. 
 
 Oft would the Dryads of these woods rejoice 
 
 To hear her heav'nly voice. 
 
 For her despising, when she deign'd to sing. 
 
 The sweetest songsters of the Spring: 
 
 The woodlark and the linnet pleas'd no more ; 
 
 The nightingale was mute. 
 
 And every shepherd's flute 
 Was cast in silent scorn away. 
 While all attended to her sweeter lay. 
 Ye larks and linnets, now resume your song ; 
 
 And thou, melodious Philomel, 
 
 Again thy plaintive story tell. 
 For death has stop'd that tuneful tongue. 
 Whose music could alone your warbling notes excel.
 
 LORD LYTTELTON.] MEMORY OF MRS. LYTTELTON. 33 
 
 IV. 
 
 In vain I look around 
 
 O'er all the well-known ground. 
 My Lucy's wonted footsteps to descry ; 
 
 Where oft we us'd to walk. 
 
 Where oft in tender talk 
 We saw the summer sun go down the sky j 
 
 Nor by yon fountain's side. 
 
 Nor where its waters glide 
 Along the valley, can she now be found : 
 In all the wide-stretch'd prospect's ample bound 
 
 No more my mournful eye 
 
 Can aught of her espy. 
 But the sad sacred earth where her dear relics lie. 
 
 V. 
 
 O shades of Hagley, where is now your boast ? 
 Your bright inhabitant is lost. 
 
 You she prefer'd to all the gay resorts 
 Where female vanity might wish to shine. 
 
 The pomp of cities, and the pride of courts. 
 Her modest beauties shun'd the pubhc eye : 
 
 To your sequester'd dales 
 
 And flow'r-embroider'd vales 
 From an admiring world she chose to fly ; 
 With Nature there retir'd, and Nature's God, 
 The silent paths of wisdom trod, 
 c3
 
 34 MONODY, TO THE [loRD LYTTELTON 
 
 And banish'd every passion from her breast. 
 But those, the gentlest and the best. 
 Whose holy flames with energy divine 
 The virtuous heart enliven and improve. 
 The conjugal, and the maternal love. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Sweet babes, who, like the little playful fawns. 
 Were wont to trip along these verdant lawns 
 
 By your delighted mother's side. 
 
 Who now your infant steps shall guide ? 
 
 Ah ! where is now the hand whose tender care 
 To every virtue would have form'd your youth. 
 And strew'd with flow'rs the thorny ways of truth? 
 
 O loss beyond repair ! 
 O wretched Father ! left alone. 
 
 To weep their dire misfortune, and thy own ! 
 How shall thy weaken'd mind, oppressed with wo. 
 
 And drooping o'er thy Lucy's grave. 
 Perform the duties that you doubly owe. 
 
 Now she, alas ! is gone. 
 
 From folly, and from vice, their helpless age to save ? 
 
 . VII. 
 
 Where were ye. Muses, When relentless Fate 
 From these fond arms your fair disciple tore.
 
 LORD LYTTEtTON.] MEMORY OF MRS. LYTTELTON. 35 
 
 From these fond arms that vainly strove 
 With hapless ineffectual love 
 To guard her bosom from the mortal blow ? 
 
 Could not your favoring pow'r, Aonian maids, 
 Coild not, alas ! your pow'r prolong her date. 
 
 For whom so oft in these inspiring shades. 
 Or under Campden's moss-clad mountains hoar. 
 You open'd all your sacred store, 
 
 Whate'er your ancient sages taught. 
 
 Your ancient bards sublimely thought. 
 And bade her raptur'd breast with all your spirit glow ? 
 
 VITI. 
 Kor then did Pindus' or Castalia's plain. 
 Or Aganippe's fount your steps detain. 
 Nor in tbe Thespian vallies did you play j 
 Nor then on Mincio^s bank 
 Beset with osiers dank. 
 Nor where Clitumnus rolls his gentle stream. 
 Nor where through hanging woods 
 Steep Anio pours his floods. 
 Nor yet where Meles, or Bissus stray. 
 
 Ill does it now beseem. 
 That, of your guardian care bereft. 
 To dire disease and death your darhng should be left.
 
 36 MONODY, TO THE [lORD LYTTELTOW. 
 
 rx. 
 
 Now what avails it that in early bloom. 
 
 When light fantastic toys 
 
 Are all her sex's joys. 
 With you she searched the wit of Greece and Rome ? 
 
 And all that in her latter days 
 
 To emulate her ancient praise 
 Italia's happy genius could produce ; 
 
 Or what the Gallic fire 
 
 Bright-sparkling could inspire. 
 By all the Graces tempered and refinM ; 
 
 Or what in Britain's isle. 
 
 Most favour'd with your smile. 
 The pow'rs of reason, and of fancy join'd. 
 To full perfection have conspir'd to raise? 
 
 Ah ! what is now the use 
 Of all these treasures that enrichM her mind. 
 To black oblivion's gloom for ever now consign'd .^ 
 
 X. 
 
 At least, ye Nine, her spotless name 
 
 'Tis your's from death to save. 
 And in the temple of immortal Fame 
 
 With golden characters her worth engrave. 
 Come then, ye virgin sisters, come. 
 And strew with choicest flow'rs her hallow'd tomb :
 
 LORD LYTTELTON.} MEMORY OT MRS. LYTTELTON. "37 
 
 But foremost thou, in sable vestment clad. 
 
 With accents sweet and sad. 
 
 Thou, plaintive Muse, whom o*er his Laura^s urn 
 
 Unhappy Petrarch call'd to mourn, 
 
 O come, and to this fairer Laura pay 
 
 A more impassion'd tear, a more pathetic lay. 
 
 XL 
 
 Tell how each beauty of her mind and face 
 Was brighten'd by some sweet, peculiar g^ace I 
 How eloquent in every look 
 
 Through her expressive eyes her soul distinctly spoke ! 
 Tell how her manners, by the world refm'd. 
 Left all the taint of modish vice behind. 
 And made each charm of polish'd courts agree 
 With candid Truth's simplicity. 
 And uncorrupted Innocence ! 
 Tell how to more than manly sense 
 She joined the soft'ning influence 
 Of more than female tenderness : 
 How in the thoughtless days of wealth and joy. 
 Which oft the care of others' good destroy. 
 Her kindly-melting heart. 
 To every want, and every woe. 
 To guilt itself when in distress. 
 The balm of pity would impart. 
 And all relief that bounty could bestow ?
 
 38 MONODY, TO THE [lORD LYTTELTOK. 
 
 Ev'n for the kid or lamb that pour'd its hfe 
 Beneath the bloody knife. 
 Her gentle tears would fall. 
 Tears from sweet Virtue's source, benevolent to all. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Not only good and kind. 
 
 But strong and elevated was her mind : . 
 A spirit that with nobler pride 
 
 Could look superior down 
 
 On Fortune's smile, or frown ; 
 That could without regret or pain 
 
 To Virtue's lowest duty sacrifice 
 
 Or interest or ambition's highest prize ; 
 That, injur'd or offended, never tried 
 Its dignity by vengeance to maintain. 
 But by magnanimous disdain. 
 
 A wit that, temperately bright. 
 
 With inoffensive light 
 All pleasing shone, nor ever past 
 
 The decent bounds that Wisdom's sober hand. 
 
 And sweet Benevolence's mild command. 
 And bashful Modesty before it cast. 
 A prudence undeceiving, undeceiv'd. 
 That nor too little, nor too much believ'd. 
 That scorn'd unjust suspicion's coward fear. 
 And without weakness knew to be sincere.
 
 lOBD LTTTELTON.] MEMOES OF MRS. LTTTELTON. 39 
 
 Such Lucy was, when, in her fairest days. 
 
 Amidst th' acclaim of universal praise. 
 
 In life's and glory's freshest bloom. 
 
 Death came remorseless on, and sunk her to the tomb. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 So, where the silent streams of Liris glide. 
 In the soft bosom of Campania's vale. 
 
 When now the wintry tempests all are fled. 
 And genial Summer breathes her gentle gale. 
 The verdant orange hfts its beauteous head: 
 From every branch the balmy flow'rets rise. 
 
 On every bough the golden fruits are seen ; 
 With odours sweet it fills the smiling skies. 
 
 The wood-nymphs tend it, and th' Idalian queen : 
 But, in the midst of all its blooming pride, 
 A sudden blast from Apenninus blows. 
 Cold with perpetual snows : 
 The tender blighted plant shrinks up its leaves, and 
 dies, 
 
 XIV. 
 
 ArisCj O Petrarch, from th' Elysian bow'rs. 
 
 With never-fading myrtles twin'd. 
 And fragrant with ambrosial flow'rs. 
 
 Where to thy Laura thou again art join'd ;
 
 40 MONODY, TO THE [lORD LYTTELION. 
 
 Arise, and hither bring the silver lyre, 
 
 Tun'd by thy sMilful hand 
 To the soft notes of elegant desire. 
 
 With which o'er many a land 
 Was spread the fame of thy disastrous love ; 
 To me resign the vocal shell. 
 
 And teach my sorrows to relate 
 Their melancholy tale so well. 
 
 As may ev'n things inanimate. 
 Rough mountain oaks, and desert rocks, to pity move. 
 
 XV. 
 
 What were, alas ! thy woes compar'd to mine ? 
 To thee thy mistress in the blissful band 
 Of Hymen never gave her hand j 
 The joys of wedded love were never thine. 
 In thy domestic care 
 She never bore a share. 
 Nor with endearing art 
 Would heal thy wounded heart 
 Of every secret grief that fester'd there : 
 Nor did her fond affection on the bed 
 Of sickness watch thee, and thy languid head 
 Whole nights on her unwearied arm sustain. 
 And charm away the sense of pain : 
 Nor did she crown your mutual flame 
 With pledges dear, and with a father's tender name.
 
 LORD LYTTELTON. ] MEMORY OF MRS. LYTTELTON. 41 
 
 XVI. 
 
 O best of wives ! O dearer far to me 
 
 Than when thy virgin charms 
 
 Were yielded to my arms. 
 How can my soul endure the loss of thee ? 
 How in the world, to me a desert g^own, 
 Abandon'd, and alone, 
 Without my sweet companion can I live ? 
 
 Without thy lovely smile. 
 
 The dear reward of every virtuous toil. 
 What pleasures pow can pall'd Ambition give ? 
 Ev'n the delightful sense of well-eam'd praise, 
 Unshar'd by thee, no more my Ufeless thoughts could 
 raise. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 For my distracted mind 
 
 What succour can I find ? 
 On whom for consolation shall I call ? 
 
 Support me, every friend. 
 
 Your kind assistance lend 
 To bear the weight of this oppressive wo. 
 Alas ! each friend of mine. 
 My dear departed love, so much was thine. 
 That none has any comfort to bestow. 
 
 My books, the best relief 
 
 In every other grief.
 
 42 MONODY, TO THE [LORD LYTTELTON, 
 
 Are now with your idea sadden'd all : 
 Each fav'rite author we together read 
 My tortur'd mem'ry wounds, and speaks of Lucy dead. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 We were the happiest pair of human kind : 
 The rolling year its varying course performed. 
 And back returned again ; 
 Another and another smiling came. 
 And saw our happiness unchang'd remain j 
 Still in her golden chain 
 Harmonious Concord did our wishes bind : 
 Our studies, pleasures, taste, the same. 
 O fatal, fatal stroke. 
 That all this pleasing fabric Love had raised 
 
 Of rare felicity. 
 On which e'en wanton Vice with Envy gaz'd. 
 
 And every scheme of bliss our hearts had formed. 
 With soothing hope, for many a future day. 
 
 In one sad moment broke ! 
 Yet, O my soul, thy rising murmurs stay. 
 Nor dare th' all-wise Disposer to arraign. 
 
 Or against his supreme decree 
 With impious grief complain. 
 That all thy full-blown joys at once should fade. 
 Was his most righteous will, and be that will obey*d.
 
 LORD LYTTELTON.] MEMORY OF MRS. LYTTELTON. 43 
 XIX. 
 
 Would thy fond love bis grace to her controul. 
 And in these low abodes of sin and pain 
 
 Her pure, exalted soul 
 
 Unjustly for thy partial good detain ? 
 
 No rather strive thy groveling mind to raise 
 
 Up to that unclouded blaze. 
 
 That heav'nly radiance of eternal light. 
 In which enthron'd she now with pity sees 
 
 How frail, how insecure, how slight. 
 Is every mortal bliss ; 
 E'en love itself, if rising by degrees 
 
 Beyond the bounds of this imperfect state. 
 Whose fleeting joys so soon must end. 
 It does not to its sov'reign good ascend. 
 Rise then, my soul, with hope elate. 
 And seek those regions of serene delight. 
 Whose peaceful path and ever-open gate 
 No feet but those of hardened Guilt shall miss. 
 There Death himself thy Lucy shall restore. 
 
 There yield up all his pow'r ne'er to divide you more.
 
 RURAL ELEGANCE. 
 
 [SHENSTONE.] 
 
 To the Duchess of Somerset. 
 
 While orient skies restore the day. 
 And dew-drops catch the lucid ray ; 
 Amid the sprightly scenes of morn. 
 
 Will aught the muse inspire ! 
 Oh ! peace to yonder clam'rous horn 
 That drowns the sacred lyre ! 
 
 Ye rural thanes, that o'er the mossy down. 
 Some panting, timorous hare pursue ; 
 
 Does nature mean your joys alone to crown ? 
 Say, does she smooth her lawns for you ? 
 
 For you does echo bid the rocks reply. 
 And urg'd by rude constraint resound the jovial cry ? 
 
 See from the neighbouring hill, forlorn 
 The wretched swain your sport survey ; 
 
 He finds his faithful fences torn. 
 He finds his laboured crops a prey ;
 
 SHENSTONE.] RURAL ELEGANCB. 45 
 
 He sees his flock no more in circles feed j 
 Haply beneath your ravage bleed. 
 And with no random curses loads the deed. 
 
 Nor yet, ye swains, conclude 
 That nature smiles for you alone ; 
 Your bounded souls, and your conceptions crude. 
 The proud, the selfish boast disown : 
 Yours be the produce of the soil : 
 O may it still reward your toil ! 
 Nor ever the defenceless train 
 Of clinging infants, ask support in vain ! 
 
 But tho* the various harvest gild your plains. 
 
 Does the mere landscape feast your eye ? 
 Or the warm hope of distant gains 
 
 Far other cause of glee supply ? 
 Is not the red-streak's future juice 
 
 The source of your delight profound. 
 Where Ariconium pours her gems profuse. 
 
 Purpling a whole horizon round ? 
 Athirst ye praise the limpid stream, 'tis true : 
 But tho', the pebbled shores among. 
 It mimic no unpleasing song. 
 The limpid fountain murmurs not for you.
 
 46 RURAL ELEGANCE. [SHENSTONE. 
 
 Unpleas'd ye see the thickets bloom, 
 Unpleas'd the Spring her flowery robe resume ; 
 Unmov'd the mountains airy pile. 
 The dappled mead without a smile. 
 O let a rural conscious muse. 
 For well she knows, your froward sense accuse : 
 Forth to the solemn oak you bring the square. 
 And span the massy trunk, before you cry, 'tis fair. 
 
 Nor yet ye leam'd, nor yet ye courtly train. 
 
 If haply from your haunts ye stray 
 
 To waste with us a summer's day. 
 
 Exclude the taste of every swain. 
 
 Nor our untutor'd sense disdain : 
 'Tis nature only gives exclusive right 
 
 To relish her supreme delight ; 
 
 She, where she pleases kind or coy. 
 Who furnishes the scene, and forms us to enjoy. 
 
 Then hither bring the fair ingenuous mind. 
 
 By her auspicious aid refin'd ; 
 Lo ! not an hedge-row hawthorn blows. 
 
 Or humble harcrbell paints the plain. 
 Or valley winds, or fountain flows. 
 
 Or purple heath is ting'd in vain :
 
 SHENSTONE.] RWRAL ELEGANCE. 47 
 
 For such the rivers dash the foaming tides. 
 The mountain swells, the dale subsides ; 
 Ev'n thriftless furze detains their wandering sight. 
 And the rough barren rock grows pregnant with delight. 
 
 With what suspicious fearful care 
 
 The sordid wretch secures his claim. 
 If haply some luxurious heir 
 
 Should alienate the fields that wear his name ! 
 What scruples lest some future birth 
 
 Should litigate a span of earth ! 
 Bonds, contracts, feoffments, names unmeet for prose. 
 The towering muse endures not to disclose ; 
 
 Alas ! her unrevers'd decree. 
 
 More comprehensive and more free. 
 Her lavish charter, taste, appropriates all we see. 
 
 Let gondolas their painted flags unfold. 
 
 And be the solemn day enroll' d. 
 
 When to confirm his lofi;y plea. 
 In nuptial sort, with bridal gold. 
 
 The grave Venetian weds the sea : 
 Each laughing muse derides the vow ; 
 
 Ev'n Adria scorns the mock embrace. 
 To some lone hermit on the mountain's brow. 
 
 Allotted, from his natal hour. 
 
 With all her myrtle shores in dowV.
 
 ^ RURAL ELEGANCE. [HENST0NK. 
 
 His breast to admiration prone 
 
 Enjoys the smile upon her face. 
 
 Enjoys triumphant every grace. 
 And finds her more his own. 
 
 Fatigued with form's oppressive laws. 
 
 When Somerset avoids the great ; 
 When cloy'd with merited applause. 
 
 She seeks the rural calm retreat ; 
 Does she not praise each mossy cell. 
 And feel the truth my numbers tell ? 
 When deafen'd by the loud acclaim. 
 
 Which genius grac'd with rank obtains. 
 Could she not more delighted hear 
 Yon throstle chaunt the rising year? 
 Could she not spurn the wreaths of fame. 
 
 To crop the primrose of the plains ? 
 Does she not sweets in each fair valley find. 
 Lost to the sons of powV, unknown to half mankind ? 
 
 Ah can she covet there to see 
 The splendid slaves, the reptile race. 
 
 That oil the tongue, and bow the knee. 
 That slight her merit, but adore her place ? 
 
 Far happier, if aright I deem. 
 When from gay throngs, and gilded spires.
 
 SHENSTONE.] RURAL ELEGANCE. 49 
 
 To where the lonely halcyons play. 
 Her philosophic step retires : 
 While studious of the moral theme. 
 She, to some smooth sequester'd stream 
 Likens the swain's inglorious day ; 
 Pleas'd from the flowery margin to survey. 
 How cool, serene, and clear the current glides away. 
 
 O blind to truth, to virtue blind. 
 Who slight the sweetly-pensive mind ! 
 On whose fair birth the graces mild. 
 And every muse prophetic smil'd. 
 Not that the poet's boasted fire 
 
 Should fame's wide-echoing trumpet swell ; . 
 Or, on the music of his lyre 
 
 Each future age with rapture dwell ; 
 The vaunted sweets of praise remove. 
 Yet shall such bosoms claim a part 
 In all that glads the human heart ; 
 Yet these the spirits, form'd to judge and prove 
 All nature's charms immense, and heaven's unbounded 
 love. 
 
 And oh ! the transport, most allied to song. 
 
 In some fair villa's peaceful bound. 
 To catch soft hints from nature's tongue, 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 5v KUilAL ELEGANCE. [SHENSTONE. 
 
 And bid Arcadia bloom around : 
 Whether we fringe the sloping hill. 
 
 Or smooth below the verdant mead ; 
 Whether we break the falling rill. 
 
 Or thro' meandering mazes lead ; 
 Or in the horrid bramble's room 
 Bid careless groups of roses bloom ; 
 Or let some shelter'd lake serene 
 Reflect flowers, woods, and spires, and brighten all the 
 scene. 
 
 O sweet disposal of the rural hour ! 
 O beauties never known to cloy ! 
 While worth and genius haunt the favour'd bow'r. 
 
 And every gentle breast partakes the joy ! 
 While charity at eve surveys the swain. 
 Enabled by these toils to cheer 
 A train of helpless infants dear. 
 Speed whistling home across the plain ; 
 See vagrant luxury, her hand-maid grown. 
 For half her graceless deeds atone. 
 And hails the bounteous work, and ranks it with her own. 
 
 Why brand these pleasures with the name 
 Of soft, unsocial toils, of indolence and shame ? 
 
 Search but the garden, or the wood. 
 Let yon admir'd carnation own.
 
 3HENST0NE.] IIURAL ELEGANCE. 51 
 
 Not all was meant for raiment or for food, 
 
 Not all for needful use alone ; 
 There while the seeds of future blossoms dwell, 
 Tis colour'd for the sight, perfum'd to please the smell. 
 
 Why knows the nightingale to sing ? 
 
 Why flows the pine's nectareous juice? 
 Why shines with paint the linnet's wing ? 
 For sustenance alone ? For use ? 
 For preservation ? Every sphere 
 Shall bid fair pleasure's rightful claim appear. 
 And sure there seem, of human kind. 
 
 Some born to shun the solemn strife ; 
 Some for amusive tasks design' d. 
 To sooth the certain ills of life ; 
 Grace its lone vales with many a budding rose. 
 New founts of bliss disclose. 
 Call forth refreshing shades, and decorate repose. 
 From plains and woodlands ; from the view 
 Of rural nature's blooming face, 
 Smit with the glare of rank and place, 
 To courts the sons of fancy flew; 
 There long had art ordain'd a rival seat. 
 There had she lavish'd all her care 
 To form a scene more dazzling fair. 
 And call'd them from their green retreat 
 To share her proud controul ; 
 D 2
 
 52 aURAL ELEGANCE. [sHENSTONE. 
 
 Had given the robe with grace to flow. 
 
 Had taught exotic gems to glow ; 
 And, emulous of nature's pow'r, 
 Mimick'd the plume, the leaf, the flow'r ; 
 
 Chang'd the complexion's native hue. 
 
 Moulded each rustic limb anew. 
 And warp'd the very soul. 
 
 Awhile her magic strikes the novel eye. 
 
 Awhile the fairy forms delight ; 
 
 And now aloof we seem to fly 
 On purple pinions thro' a purer sky. 
 
 Where all is wonderous, all is bright : 
 
 Now landed on some spangled shore 
 Awhile each dazzled maniac roves 
 By sapphire lakes, thro' em'rald groves. 
 
 Paternal acres please no more ; 
 Adieu the simple, the sincere delight 
 
 Th' habitual scene of hill and dale. 
 
 The rural herds, the vernal gale. 
 
 The tangled vetch's purple bloom. 
 
 The fragrance of the bean's perfume. 
 Be theirs alone who cultivate the soil. 
 And drink the cup of thirst, and eat the bread of toil. 
 
 But soon the pageant fades away ! 
 *Tis nature only bears perpetual sway.
 
 SHENSTONE.] KURAL ELEGANCE. 53 
 
 We pierce the counterfeit delight. 
 Fatigued with splendour's irksome beams. 
 Fancy again demands the sight 
 Of native groves, and wonted streams. 
 Pants for the scenes that charmM her youthful eyes. 
 Where truth maintains her court, and banishes disguise- 
 -*% 
 Then hither oft, ye senators, retire. 
 
 With nature here high converse hold ; 
 For who like Stamford her delights admire. 
 
 Like Stamford shall with scorn behold 
 Th' unequal bribes of pageantry and gold ; 
 Beneath the British oak's majestic shade. 
 Shall see fair truth, immortal maid. 
 Friendship in artless guise array 'd. 
 Honour, and moral beauty shine 
 With more attractive charms, with radiance more divine. 
 
 Yes, here alone did highest heav'n ordain 
 The lasting magazine of charms. 
 Whatever wins, whatever warms. 
 Whatever fancy seeks to share. 
 The great, the various, and the fair. 
 For ever shoyld remain ! 
 
 Her impulse nothing may restrain 
 Or whence the joy 'mid columns, tow'rs.
 
 24 RUIUI. BLEGANCE. [SHENITOME. 
 
 'Midst all the city's artful trim. 
 To rear some breathless vapid flow'rs. 
 
 Or shrubs fuliginously grim ; 
 From ix>oms of silken foliage vain. 
 
 To trace the dun far distant grove. 
 Where smit with undissembled pain. 
 The wood-lark mourns her absent love. 
 Borne to the dusty town from native air. 
 To mimic rural life, and sooth some vapour'd fair? 
 
 But how must faithless art prevail. 
 Should all who taste our joy sincere. 
 To virtue, truth, or science dear. 
 Forego a court's alluring pale. 
 For dimpled brook and leafy grove. 
 For that rich luxury of thought they lore ! 
 Ah no, from these the public sphere requires 
 Example for its giddy bands ; 
 From these impartial heav'n demands 
 To spread the flame itself inspires. 
 To sift opinion's mingled mass. 
 Impress a nation's taste, and bid the iterling pass. 
 
 Happy, thrice happy they. 
 Whose graceful deeds have exemplary shone 
 Round the gay precincts of a throne.
 
 SHENSTONE.] RURAL SLEGANCE. S5 
 
 With mild effective beams ! 
 Who bands of fair ideas bring. 
 By solemn grot, or shady spring. 
 
 To join their pleasing dreams ! 
 Theirs is the rural bliss without alloy. 
 They only that deserve, enjoy. 
 
 What tho' nor fabled dryad haunt their grove. 
 
 Nor naiad near their fountains rove, i 
 
 Yet all embody'd to the mental sight, 
 
 A train of smiling virtues bright 
 
 Shall there the wise retreat allow. 
 Shall twine triumphant palms to deck the wanderer** 
 
 brow. 
 
 And though by faithless friends alarmM, 
 Art have with nature waged presumptuous war ; 
 By Seymour's winning influence charm'd. 
 In whom their gifts united shine. 
 No longer shall their counsels jar. 
 
 *Tis hers to meditate the peace ; 
 
 Near PEucY-lodge, with awe-struck mien. 
 
 The rebel seeks her lawful qu^n. 
 And havock and contention cease. 
 
 I see the rival pow'rs combine. 
 
 And aid each other's fair design ;
 
 56 RURAL ELEGANCE. {SH.ENSTONE. 
 
 Nature exalt the mound where art shall build ; 
 Art shape the gay alcove, while nature paints the field. 
 
 Begin, ye. songsters of the grove ! 
 
 O warble forth your noblest lay ; 
 
 Where Somerset vouchsafes to rove. 
 
 Ye leverets, freely sport and play. 
 , Peace to the strepent horn ! 
 Let no harsh dissonance disturb the morn. 
 
 No souijds inelegant and rude 
 
 Her sacred solitudes profane. 
 
 Unless her candour can exclude 
 
 The lowly shepherd's votive strain. 
 Who tunes his reed amidst his rural cheer. 
 Fearful; yet not averse, that Somerset should hear. 
 
 WINTER AMUSEMENTS. 
 
 [anstey.] 
 
 IE beauteous nymphs, and jovial swains,. 
 
 Who deck'd with youthful bloom. 
 In gay assemblage meet to gi-ace 
 
 Philander's cheerful dome ;
 
 ANSTEY.] WINTER AMUSEMENTS. 57" 
 
 Mark how the wintry clouds hang o'er 
 
 Yon frowning mountain's brow ! 
 Mark how the rude winds warp the stream. 
 
 And rock the leafless bough ! 
 
 The painted meads and flow'ry lawns 
 
 Their wonted pride give o'er ; 
 The feather'd flocks in silence mourn. 
 
 Their notes are heard no more. 
 
 Save where beneath the lonely shed. 
 
 Or desolated thorn. 
 The red-breast heaves his ruffled plumes. 
 
 Aim! tunes his pipe forlorn : 
 
 Yet shall the sun's reviving ray 
 
 Recall the genial spring : 
 The painted meads resume their pride. 
 
 The feather'd flocks shall sing ; 
 
 But not to you shall e'er return 
 
 The pride of gaudy years : 
 When pining Age, with icy hand. 
 
 His hoary mantle rears : 
 
 When once, alas ! his churlish blast 
 Shall your bright spring subdue, 
 D 3
 
 58 WINTSR AMUSEMENTS. [aNSTB 
 
 I know not what reviving sun 
 Can e'er that spring renew : 
 
 Then seize the glorious gdden days. 
 
 That fill your cups with joy. 
 Bid every gay and social scene 
 
 Your blissful hours employ : 
 
 Oft where the crowded stage invites. 
 
 The laughing Muses join ; 
 Or woo them while they sport around 
 
 Eugenio's laurel'd shrine : 
 
 Oft seek the haunts where Health and Joy 
 
 To sportive numbers move ; 
 Or plaintive strains breathe soft desire. 
 
 And wake the soul to love : 
 
 Yet ah ! where'er you bend your way. 
 
 Let fair Discretion steer 
 From Folly's vain delusive charms. 
 
 And Passion's wild career. 
 
 So when the wintry hours shall come. 
 
 When youth and pleasure fly. 
 Safe shall you ward th' impending storm. 
 
 And Time's rude blast defy ;
 
 eKKTaiE.] THE MAN OF SOKROW. 69 
 
 Perpetual charms, unfading Spring, 
 
 In sweet reflection find ; 
 While Innocence and Virtue bring 
 
 A sunshine o'er the mind. 
 
 THE MAN OF SORROW. 
 
 [gkeville.] 
 
 Ah ! what avails the lengthening mead. 
 By nature's kindest bounty spread 
 
 Along the vale of flowers ! 
 Ah ! what avails the dark ning grove. 
 Or Philomel's melodious love. 
 
 That glads the midnight hours ! 
 
 For me (alas !) the god of day 
 Ne'er ghtters on the hawthorn spray, 
 
 Nor night her comfort brings : 
 I have no pleasure in the rose : 
 For me no vernal beauty blows. 
 
 Nor Philomela sings.
 
 60 THE MAN OF SORROW. [qREVILLE. 
 
 See, how the sturdy peasants stride, 
 Adown yon hillock's verdant side. 
 
 In cheerful ignorance blest ! 
 Alike to them the rose or thorn. 
 Alike arises every morn. 
 
 By gay contentment drest. 
 
 Content, fair daughter of the skies. 
 Or gives spontaneous, or denies. 
 
 Her choice divinely free. 
 She visits oft the hamlet-cot. 
 When want and sorrow are the lot ^^ 
 
 Of Avarice and me. ^^. 
 
 But see or is it Fancy's dream ? 
 Methought a bright celestial gleam 
 
 Shot sudden thro' the groves^ 
 Behold, behold, in loose array, 
 Euphrosyne more bright than day,- 
 
 More mild than Paphian doves ! 
 
 Welcome, O ! welcome. Pleasure's queen!. 
 And see, along the velvet green. 
 
 The jocund train advance : 
 With scatter'd flowers they fill the air^ '.' 
 The wood-nymph's dew-bespangled hair 
 
 Plays in the sportive dance.
 
 GRETILLE.] THE MAN OF SOBROW. 61 
 
 Ah ! baneful grant of angry heaven. 
 When to the feeling wretch is given 
 
 A soul alive to joy ! 
 Joys fly with every hour away. 
 And leave th' unguarded heart a prey 
 
 To cares, that peace destroy. 
 
 And see, with visionary haste, 
 (Too soon the gay delusion past) 
 
 Reality remains ! 
 Despair has seiz'd my captive soul, 
 ^ And Horror drives without controul. 
 
 And slackens still the reins. 
 
 Ten thousand beauties round me throng. 
 What beauties, say, ye nymphs, belong 
 
 ,To the distemper'd soul ? 
 I see the lawn of hideous dye. 
 The towering elm nods misery, 
 
 ^ ;With groans the waters roll. 
 
 Ye gilded roofs, Palladian domes,. 
 Ye vivid tints of Persia's looms. 
 
 Ye were for misery made 
 'Twas thus the man of sorrow spoke. 
 His wayward step then pensive took 
 
 Alons: th' unhallow'd shade.
 
 A PRAYER FOR INDIFFERENCE. 
 
 [mks. gbeville.] 
 
 Oft I've implor'd the gods in vain. 
 And pray'd till I've been weary j 
 
 For once I'll try my wish to gain 
 Of Oberon the fairy. 
 
 Sweet airy being, wanton sprite. 
 That lurk'st in woods unseen. 
 
 And oft, by Cynthia's silver light, 
 Trip'st gaily o'er the green ; 
 
 If e'er thy pitying heart was mov*d. 
 
 As ancient stories tell ; 
 And for th* Athenian maid who loVd, 
 
 Thou sought'st a wond'rous spell ; 
 
 Oh ! deign once more t* exert thy power ! 
 
 Haply some herb or tree, 
 Sov'reign as juice of western flow*r. 
 
 Conceals a balm for me. 
 
 1^
 
 MBS. CIIEVILLE.3 PRAYER TOR INDIFFERENCE. . 63 
 
 I ask no kind return of love. 
 
 No tempting charm to please ; 
 Far from the heart those gifts remove. 
 
 That sigh for peace and ease. 
 
 Nor ease, nor peace, that heart can know 
 
 That, like the needle true. 
 Turns at the touch of joy or wo, 
 ^ But, turning, trembles too. 
 
 Far as distress the soul can wound, 
 
 'Tis pain in each degree ; 
 *Tis bliss but to a certain bound j 
 
 Beyond, is agony. 
 
 Then take this treacherous sense of mine. 
 
 Which dooms me still to smart. 
 Which pleasure can to pain refine. 
 
 To pain new pangs impart. 
 
 Oh ! haste to shed the sacred balm. 
 
 My shattered nerves new-string ; 
 And for my guest, serenely calm. 
 
 Thy nymph. Indifference, bring. 
 
 At her approach, see Hope, see Fear, 
 See Expectation fly j
 
 S4 PRAYER FOR INDIFFERENCE. [mRS. GREVILLE. 
 
 And Disappointment in the rear. 
 That blasts the purpos'd joy. 
 
 The tears which Pity taught to flow. 
 
 My eyes shall then disown ; 
 The heart that throb'd at others' wo. 
 
 Shall then scarce feel its own. 
 
 The wounds which now each moment bleed. 
 
 Each moment then shall close ; 
 And tranquil days shall still succeed 
 
 To nights of sweet repose. ^ 
 
 O fairy elf! but grant me this. 
 
 This one kind comfort send ; 
 And so may never-fading bliss 
 
 Thy flow'ry paths attends 
 
 So may the glow-worm's glimmering light 
 
 Thy tiny footsteps lead 
 To some new region of delight. 
 
 Unknown to mortal tread. 
 
 And be thy acorn goblet fill'd 
 
 With heaven's ambrosial dew. 
 Prom sweetest, freshest flowers distill'd. 
 
 That shed fresh sweets for you.
 
 MRS. GREVILLE.] PRAYER FOR INDIFFERENCE. 
 
 And what of life remains for me, 
 
 I'll pass in sober ease ; 
 Half-pleas'd, contented will I be ; 
 
 Content but half to please. 
 
 . THE FAIRY'S ANSWER, 
 
 TO MRS. GREVILLE. 
 [countess of c ] 
 
 ' iTHOUT preamble, to my friend. 
 These hasty lines I'm bid to send. 
 
 Or give, if I am able ; 
 I dare not hesitate to say, 
 Tho' I have trembled all the day- 
 It looks so like a fable. 
 
 Last night's adventure is my theme. 
 And should it strike you as a dream. 
 
 Yet soon its high import 
 Must make you own the matter such. 
 So delicate, it were too much 
 
 To be compos'd in sport. 
 
 65
 
 ^ THE fairy's answer. [coUNTESS OF C 
 
 The moon did shine serenely bright. 
 And every star did deck the night. 
 
 While Zephyr fan'd the trees. 
 No more assail'd my mind's repose. 
 Save, that yon stream, which murmuring flows. 
 
 Did echo to the breeze. 
 
 Enwrapt in solemn thoughts, I sate, , 
 Revolving o'er the turns of fate. 
 
 Yet void of hope or fear ; 
 When lo ! behold an aery throng. 
 With lightest steps, and jocund song, 
 
 Surpris'd my eye and ear. 
 
 A form, superior to the rest. 
 His little voice to me addrest. 
 And gently thus began, 
 . * I've heard strange things from one of you, 
 ' Pray tell me if you think 'tis true, 
 ' Explain it if you can. 
 
 ' Such incense has perfum'd my throne ! 
 
 * Such eloquence my heart has won ! 
 
 * I think I guess the hand ; 
 
 * 1 know her wit and beauty too, 
 
 * But why she sends a prayer so new, 
 
 ' I cannot understand.
 
 COUNTESS or C i .] THE FAIRy's ANSWER. 
 
 ' To light some flames, and some revive, 
 ' To keep some others just alive. 
 
 * Full oft I am implor'd ; 
 
 * But, with peculiar power to please, 
 
 * To supplicate for nought but ease 
 
 * ^Tis odd, upon my word ! 
 
 ' Tell her, with fruitless care I've sou^t, 
 ' And tho' my realms, with wonder fraught. 
 
 In remedies abound, 
 ' No grain of cold Indifference 
 ' Was ever yet allied to Sense, 
 ' In all my fairy roimd. 
 
 ' The regions of the sky I'd trace, 
 ' I'd ransack every earthly place, 
 
 ' Each leaf, each herb, each flower, 
 
 * To mitigate the pangs of Fear, 
 
 * Dispel the cloxids of black Despair, 
 
 ' Or lull the restless hour. 
 
 ' I would be generous as I'm just, 
 ' But I obey, as others must, 
 
 ' Those laws which fate has made. 
 
 * My tiny kingdom how defend, 
 
 ' And what might be the horrid end 
 ' Should man my state invade ?
 
 THE fairy's answer. [coUNTESS OF C 
 
 ' 'Twould put your mind into a rage, 
 * And such unequal war to wage 
 
 ' Suits not my regal duty ! 
 ' I dare not change a first decree, 
 ' She's doom'd to please, nor can be free, 
 
 * Such is the lot of Beauty !' 
 
 This said, he darted o'er the plain. 
 And after follow'd all bis train j 
 
 No glimpse of him I find ; 
 But sure I am, the little spright 
 These words, before he took his flight. 
 
 Imprinted on my mind. 
 
 AN EVENING ADDRESS TO THE 
 NIGHTIJNGALE. 
 
 [sHAW.] 
 
 Sweet Bird ! that kindly perching near, 
 Pourest thy plaints melodious in mine ear. 
 Not, like base worldlings, tutor'd to forego 
 The melancholy haunts of Wo,
 
 6HAW.] AN EVENING ADDRESS TO THE NIGHTINGALE. 69 
 
 Thanks for thy sorrow-soothing strain : 
 For surely thou hast known to prove. 
 Like me, the pangs of hapless love ; 
 
 Else why so feelingly complain. 
 And with thy piteous notes thus sadden all the grove ? 
 Say, dost thou mourn thy ravish'd mate. 
 
 That oft enamour'd on thy strains has hung ? 
 Or has the cruel hand of Fate 
 Bereft thee of thy darling young ? 
 Alas, for both I weep 
 
 In all the pride of youthful charms, 
 A beauteous bride torn from my circling arms ! 
 A lovely babe, that should have liv'd to bless. 
 
 And fill my doting eyes with frequent tears. 
 At once the source of rapture and distress. 
 
 The flattering prop of my declining years ! 
 In vain from death to rescue I essay'd. 
 
 By every art that Science could devise, 
 Alas ! it languish'd for a mother's aid. 
 
 And wing'd its flight to seek her in the skies 
 Then, Oh ! our comforts be the same. 
 
 At evening's peaceful hour. 
 To shun the noisy paths of wealth and fame. 
 
 And breathe our sorrows in this lonely bower.
 
 70 AN EVENING ADDRESS TO THE NIGHTIN^CALE. [SHAW. 
 
 But why alas ! to thee complain ? 
 
 To thee unconscious of my pain ! 
 
 Soon shalt thou cease to mourn thy lot severe. 
 
 And hail the dawning of a happier year : 
 
 The genial warmth of joy-renewing spring 
 Again shall plume thy shatter'd wing ; 
 Again thy little heart shall transport prove. 
 Again shall flow thy notes responsive to thy love. 
 
 But, oh ! for me in vain may seasons roll. 
 Nought can dry up the fountain of my tears. 
 
 Deploring still the comfort of my soul, 
 I count my sorrows by increasing years. 
 
 Tell me, thou Syren Hope, deceiver, say. 
 Where is the promis'd period of my woes ? 
 
 Full three long lingering years have roll'd away, 
 And yet I weep, a stranger to repose : 
 O what delusion did thy tongue employ ! 
 
 * That Emma's fatal pledge of love. 
 
 Her last bequest with all a mother's care, 
 
 The bitterness of sorrow should remove. 
 Soften the horrors of despair. 
 
 And cheer a heart long lost to joy !' 
 
 How oft, when fondling in mine arms. 
 Gazing enraptur'd on its angel face. 
 My soul the maze of Fate would vainly trace.
 
 SHAW.] AN VENING ADDRESS TO THE NIGHTINGALE. 71 
 
 And bum with all a father's fond alarms ! 
 
 And O what flattering scenes had Fancy feign'd. 
 
 How did I rave of blessings yet in store ! 
 Till every aching sense was sweetly pain'd. 
 
 Nor my full heart could bear, nor tongue could utter 
 more. 
 
 ' Just Heaven !* I cried, with recent hopes elate, 
 
 ' Yet I will live will live, though Emma's dead 
 So long bow'd down beneath the storms of Fate, 
 
 Yet will I raise my wo-dejected head ! 
 My little Emma, now my all. 
 
 Will want a father's care. 
 Her looks, her wants, my rash resolves recall. 
 
 And for her sake the ills of life I'll bear ; 
 And oft together we'll complain. 
 
 Complaint the only bhss my soul can know. 
 From me, my child shall learn the mournful strain. 
 
 And prattle tales of wo ; 
 
 And O in that auspicious hour. 
 When Fate resigns her persecuting pow'r. 
 With duteous zeal her hand shall close. 
 
 No more to weep my sorrow-streaming eyes, 
 When death gives misery repose. 
 
 And opes a glorious passage to the skies.'
 
 72 AN EVENING ADDRESS TO THE NIGHTINGALE. [SHAW. 
 
 Vain thought ! it must not be She too is dead 
 
 The flattering scene is o'er 
 My hopes for ever ever fled 
 
 And vengeance can no more 
 Crush'd by misfortune blasted by disease 
 
 And none none left to bear a friendly part ! 
 To meditate my vi^elfare, health, or ease. 
 
 Or sooth the anguish of an aching heart ! 
 Now all one gloomy scene, till welcome Death, 
 
 With lenient hand (O falsely deem'd severe) 
 Shall kindly stop my grief-exhausted breath. 
 
 And dry up every tear : , 
 
 Perhaps, obsequious to my will. 
 
 But ah ! from my affections far remov'd ! 
 The last sad office strangers may fulfil. 
 
 As if I ne'er had been belov'd ; 
 As if, unconscious of poetic tire, 
 I ne'er had touch'd the trembling lyre. 
 As if my niggard hand ne'er dealt relief. 
 Nor my heart melted at another's grief. 
 
 Yet while this weary life shall last. 
 
 While yet my tongue can form th' impassion'd strain. 
 In piteous accents shall the Muse> complain, 
 And dwell with fond delay on blessings past ; 
 For O how grateful to a wounded heart. 
 The tale of misery to impart !
 
 R.] ELEGY TO PITY. 73 
 
 From others' eyes bid artless sorrows flow. 
 And raise esteem upon the base of wo ! 
 Even he, the noblest of the tuneful throng'. 
 
 Shall deign my love-lorn tale to hear. 
 Shall catch the soft contagion of my song. 
 
 And pay my pensive Muse the tribute of a tear. 
 
 ELEGY TO PITY. 
 
 [R .] 
 
 Mail, lovely power ! whose bosom heaves the sigh. 
 When fancy paints the scene of deep distress. 
 
 Whose tears spontaneous crystallize the eye. 
 When rigid Fate denies the power to bless. 
 
 Not all the sweets Arabia's gales convey 
 From flow'ry meads, can with that sigh compare j 
 
 Not dew-drops gUttering in the morning ray 
 Seem near so beauteous as that falling tear. 
 
 Devoid of fear, the fawns around thee play ; 
 
 Emblem of peace, the dove before thee flies ; 
 No blood-stain'd traces mark thy blameless way. 
 
 Beneath thy feet no hapless insect dies. 
 
 )L. I. E 
 
 ^L.
 
 74 ELEGY TO PITY. (b. 
 
 Come, lovely nymph, and range the mead with me. 
 To spring ihe partridge from the guileful foe. 
 
 From secret snares the struggling bird to free. 
 And stop the hand uprais'd to give the blow. 
 
 And when the air with heat meridian glows. 
 
 And nature droops beneath the conquering gleam. 
 
 Let us, slow wandering where the current flows. 
 Save sinking flies that float along the stream. 
 
 Or turn to nobler, greater tasks, thy care, ^, 
 
 To me thy sympathetic gifts impart j \ 
 
 each me in Friendship's griefs to bear a sharl 
 And justly boast the generous, feeling heart] 
 
 Teach me to sooth the helpless orphan's grief. 
 With timely aid the widow's woes assuage. 
 
 To Misery's moving cries to yield relief. 
 And be the sure resource of drooping age. 
 
 So, when the genial spring of life shall fade. 
 And sinking nature owns the dread decay. 
 
 Some soul congenial then may lend its aid, 
 And gild the close of life's eventful day. 
 
 ^
 
 RECOLLECTIONS IN ADVERSITY. 
 
 [j. M.] 
 
 Sweet was my father's kiss to me 
 When nightly I was sent to rest ; 
 
 How joyful then I climb'd his knee. 
 And bent my head to have it blest. 
 
 And when the blushing morning came, 
 Refresh'd from balmy sleep I rose, 
 
 O how I lov'd to lisp his name. 
 
 And near his chair my station chose ! 
 
 Then oft I felt my infant heart 
 
 Oppressed with boding fears and care. 
 
 Lest others lov'd should steal a part 
 Of fondness I could never spare. 
 
 The fairing gay was still for me. 
 And many a treasured cake I found. 
 
 His gifted doll I drest with glee. 
 
 With spangled silk and ribbands bound. 
 E 2
 
 76 nECOLlECTIONS IK ADVERSITY. [j. M. 
 
 .My task perform'd my lesson leam'd. 
 
 Recounting how I spent the day. 
 The promis'd penny duly earn'd. 
 
 Light-hearted then I danc'd away. 
 
 My seat was by him in the bower. 
 That open'd to the landscape wide. 
 
 Where oft he pluck'd the blooming flower. 
 And on my brow the emblem tied. 
 
 An arm to me was welcome still. 
 
 Whene'er we health or pleasure sought : 
 
 And as we trac'd the mead or hill, 
 I mark'd his magic turn of thought. 
 
 He bade the strains my soul inspire 
 That charm'd him from th' immortal page ; 
 
 And kindling with the Muse's fire. 
 He felt the bard's delirious rage. 
 
 My morn of life unclouded rose ; 
 
 Kind parents strew'd my path with flowers ; 
 Soft pleasures charm'd me to repose. 
 
 And careful watch'd my waking hours. 
 
 But ah ! my noon is overcast 
 To me hath dire misfortune come.
 
 POPE.] ELEGY, &;C. 77 
 
 I shrink before the chilling blast 
 I wander now, without a home. 
 
 Yet, oh ! forgive him powers above ! 
 
 Who led me to the fatal snare. 
 Who made me slight a father's love, 
 t And lightly prize a mother's care. 
 
 But cold in dust my parents sleep. 
 My piercing woes they cannot see 
 
 Oh ! that these burning eyes could weep 
 For those who wept so oft for me. 
 
 ELEGY 
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF AN UNFORTUNATE LADY. 
 
 [pope.] 
 
 What beckoning ghost, along the moonlight shade 
 Invites my steps, and points to yonder glade ? 
 'Tis she ! ^but why that bleeding bosom gor'd. 
 Why dimly gleams the visionary sword ? ^ 
 Oh ever beauteous, ever friendly ! tell. 
 Is it in heaven a crime to love too well?
 
 yS ELEGY TO THE MEMORY OF [pOPE. 
 
 To bear too tender, or too firm a heart. 
 To act a Lover's or a Roman's part ? 
 Is there no bright reversion in the sky. 
 For those who greatly think, or bravely die ? 
 
 Why bade ye else, ye pow'rs! her soul aspire 
 Above the vulgar flight of low desire ? 
 Ambition first sprung from your blest abodes ; 
 The glorious fault of angels and of Gods : j 
 
 Thence to their images on earth it flows. 
 And in the breasts of kings and heroes glows. 
 Most souls, 'tis true, but peep out once an age. 
 Dull sullen pris'ners in the body's cage : 
 Dim lights of life, that burn a length of years 
 Useless, unseen, as lamps in sepulcbres ; 
 Like eastern kings a lazy state they keep. 
 And, close confin'd to their own palace, sleep. 
 
 From these perhaps (ere nature bade her die) 
 Fate snatch'd her early to the pitying sky. 
 As into air the purer spirits flow. 
 And sep'rate from their kindred dregs below ; 
 So flew the soul to its congenial place. 
 Nor left one virtue to redeem her race. 
 
 But thou, false guardian of a charge too good. 
 Thou, mean deserter of thy brother's blood !
 
 ?OPE.] AN UNFORTUNATE LADY. 79 
 
 See on these ruby lips the trembhng breath. 
 
 These cheeks, now fading at the blast of death ; 
 
 Cold is that breast which warm'd the world before. 
 
 And those love-darting eyes must roll no more. 
 
 Thus, if eternal Justice rules the ball. 
 
 Thus shall your wives, and thus your children fall : 
 
 On all the line a sudden vengeance waits. 
 
 And frequent hearses shall besiege your gates ; 
 
 There passengers shall stand, and pointing say, 
 
 ("While the long fun'rals blacken all the way) 
 
 Lo ! these were they, whose souls the furies steel'd. 
 
 And curs'd with hearts unknowing how to yield. 
 
 Thus unlamented pass the proud away. 
 
 The gaze of fools, and pageant of a day ! 
 
 So perish all, whose breast ne'er learn'd to glow 
 
 For others good, or melt at others woe. 
 
 What can atone (oh ever-injur'd shade !) 
 Thy fate unpity'd, and thy rites unpaid ? 
 No friend's complaint, no kind domestic tear 
 Pleas'd thy pale ghost, or grac'd thy mournful bier : 
 By foreign hands thy dying eye* were clos'd. 
 By foreign hands thy decent limbs compos'd. 
 By foreign hands thy humble grave adorn'd. 
 By strangers honour'd, and by strangers mournM !
 
 80 ELEGY TO THE MEMORY OF, &C. [POPE- 
 
 What tho' no friends in sable weeds appear. 
 Grieve for an hour, perhaps, then mourn a year. 
 And bear about the mockery of woe 
 To midnight dances, and the public show ? 
 What tho' no weeping loves thy ashes grace. 
 Nor polish'd marble emulate thy face ? 
 What tho' no sacred earth allow thee room. 
 Nor hallow'd dirge be mutter'd o'er thy tomb ? 
 Yet shall thy grave with rising flow'rs be drest. 
 And the green turf lie lightly on thy breast : 
 There shall the morn her earliest tears bestow. 
 There the first roses of the year shall blow ; ' , 
 
 While angels with their'silver wings o'ershade 
 The ground, now sacred by thy reli(jues made. 
 
 So peaceful rests, without a stone, a name. 
 What once had beauty, titles, wealth, and fame. 
 How lov'd, how honour'd once, avails thee not. 
 To whom related, or by whom begot ; 
 A heap of dust alone remains of thee, 
 *Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be ! 
 
 Poets themselves mvist fall, like those they sung. 
 Deaf the prais'd ear, and mute the tuneful tongue. 
 Ev'n he, whose soul now melts in mournful lays. 
 Shall shortly want the gn'rous tear he pays ;
 
 COLLINS.] DIRGE IN CYMBELINE. 81 
 
 Then from his closing eyes thy form shall part. 
 And the last pang shall tear thee from his heart. 
 Life's idle business at one gasp be o'er. 
 The Muse forgot, and thou belov'd no more ! 
 
 DIRGE IN CYMBELINE, 
 
 Sung by Guiderus and Arviragus over Fidele, 
 supposed to he dead. 
 
 [COLLINS.] 
 
 To fair Fidele's grassy tomb. 
 
 Soft maids and village hinds shall bring 
 Each opening sweet, of earliest bloom. 
 
 And rifle all the breathing spring. 
 
 No wailing ghost shall dare appear 
 To vex with shrieks this quiet grove. 
 
 But shepherd lads assemble here. 
 And melting virgins own their love. 
 
 No wither'd witch shall here be seen. 
 No goblins lead their nightly crew : 
 
 The female fays shall haunt the green. 
 And dress thy grave with pearly dew I 
 e3
 
 88 ODB TO BVENING. '[COLUNS. 
 
 The red-breast oft at evening hours 
 
 Shall kindly lend his little aid. 
 With hoary moss, and gathered flowers. 
 
 To deck the ground where thou art laid. * 
 
 When howHng winds, and beating rain. 
 
 In tempests shake the sylvan cell ; 
 Or 'midst the chace, on every plain. 
 
 The tender thought on thee shall dwell ; 
 
 Each lonely scene shall thee restore. 
 
 For thee the tear be duly shed ; 
 Belov'd, till life can charm no more : 
 
 And mourn'd till Pity's self be dead. 
 
 The following Stanza, by Gray, and inserted in the early 
 editions, only, of his Elegy in a Country Church-Yard, coincides 
 so happily with the imagery contained in these beautiful lines of 
 Collins, that we cannot forego the pleasure of inserting it here. 
 The place it originally held in the Elegy, was immediately pre- 
 cedi<'.g the Epitaph, but being too long a parenthesis, it was. 
 afterwards excluded. 
 
 Tliere scatter'd oft, the earliest of the year. 
 
 By hands unseen are show'rs of violets found j 
 The red'breast loves to build and warble there> 
 And little footsteps lightly print the ground.
 
 ODE TO PITY. 
 
 [ibid.] 
 
 O THOU, the friend of man assignM, 
 With balmy hands his wounds to bind. 
 
 And charm his frantic wo : 
 When first Distress, with dagger keen. 
 Broke forth to waste his destined scene. 
 
 His wild unsated foe ! 
 
 By Pella*s bard, a magic name. 
 
 By all the griefs his thought could fran^e. 
 
 Receive my humble rite : ^ 
 
 Long, Pity, let the nations view 
 Thy sky-worn robes of tenderest blue. 
 And eyes of dewy light ! 
 
 But wherefore need I wander wide 
 To old Ilissus' distant side. 
 
 Deserted stream, and mute ? 
 Wild Arun too has heard thy strains. 
 And Echo, midst my native plains. 
 
 Been sooth'd by Pity's lute.
 
 84 " ODE TO PITY. [COLUNS. 
 
 There first the wren thy myrtles shed 
 On gentlest Otway's infant head. 
 
 To him thy cell was shewn ; 
 And, while he sung the female heart. 
 With youth's soft notes, unspoil'd by art. 
 
 Thy turtles mix'd their own. 
 
 Come, Pity, come ; by Fancy's aid. 
 E'en now my thoughts, relenting maid. 
 
 Thy temple's pride design : 
 Its southern site, its truth complete. 
 Shall raise a wild enthusiast heat 
 
 In all who view the shrine. 
 
 There Picture's toil shall well relate. 
 How chance, or hard involving fate. 
 
 O'er mortal bliss prevail : 
 The buskin'd Muse shall near her stand. 
 And sighing prompt her tender hand, 
 
 With each disastrous tale. 
 
 There let me oft, retired by day. 
 In dreams of passion melt away, 
 
 Allcw'd with thee to dwell : 
 There waste the mournful lamp of night. 
 Till, Virgin, thou again delight 
 
 To hear a British shell 1
 
 ODE TO EVENING. 
 
 [ibid.] 
 
 If aught of oaten stop, or pastoral song. 
 
 May hope, chaste Eve, to sooth thy modest ear. 
 
 Like thy own solemn springs. 
 Thy springs, and dying gales ; 
 O Nymph reserv'd, while now the bright-hair*d sun 
 Sits in yon western tent, whose cloudy skirts. 
 
 With brede ethereal wove, 
 
 O'erhang his wavy bed : 
 Now air is hush'd, save where the weak-ey*d bat 
 With short shrill shriek flits by on leathern wing j 
 
 Or where the beetle winds 
 
 His small but sullen horn. 
 As oft he rises 'midst the twilight path. 
 Against the pilgrim borne in heedless hum : 
 
 Now teach me, maid compos'd. 
 
 To breathe some soften'd strain. 
 Whose numbers, stealing through thy darkening vale. 
 May not unseemly with its stillness suit 'y 
 
 As, musing slow, I hail 
 
 Thy genial lov'd return ! 
 For when thy folding-star arising shews 
 His paly circlet, at his warning lamp 
 
 The fragrant Hours, and Elves 
 
 Who slept in buds the day^
 
 86 ODE TO EVENING. [COLLINS. 
 
 And many a Nymph who wreathes her brows with sedge. 
 And sheds the freshening dew ; and, loveUer still. 
 
 The pensive Pleasures sweet. 
 
 Prepare thy shadowy car. 
 Then let me rove some wild and heathy scene; 
 Or find some ruin, 'midst its dreary dells. 
 
 Whose walls more awful nod 
 
 By thy religious gleams. 
 Or, if chill blustering winds, or driving rain. 
 Prevent my willing feet, be mine the hut. 
 
 That, from the mountain's side. 
 
 Views wilds, and swelling floods. 
 And hamlets brown, and dim-discover'd spires ; 
 And hears their simple bell ; and marks o'er all 
 
 Thy dewy fingers draw 
 
 The gradual dusky veil. 
 While Spring shall pour his showers, as oft he wont. 
 And bathe thy breathing tresses, meekest Eve ! 
 
 While Summer loves to sport 
 
 Beneath thy lingering light ; 
 While sallow Autumn fills thy lap with leaves ; 
 Or Winter, yelling through the troublous air. 
 
 Affrights thy shrinking train. 
 
 And rudely rends thy robes ; 
 So long, regardful of thy quiet rule. 
 Shall Fancy, Friendship, Science, smiling Peace, 
 
 Thy gentlest influence own. 
 
 And love thy favourite name !
 
 ODE TO SIMPLICITY. 
 
 [ibid.] 
 
 yJ THOUj by Nature taught 
 
 To breathe her genuine thought. 
 In numbers warmly pure, and sweetly strong; 
 
 Who first on mountains wild. 
 
 In Fancy, loveliest child. 
 Thy babe, and Pleasure's, nurs*d the powers of song ! 
 
 Thou, who, with hermit heart, 
 
 Disdain'st the wealth of art. 
 And gauds, and pageant weeds, and trailing pall ; 
 
 But com'st a decent maid. 
 
 In attic robe array'd, 
 O chaste, unboastful Nymph, to thee I call ! 
 
 By all the honey 'd store. 
 
 On Hybla's thymy shore ; 
 By all her blooms, and mingled murmurs dear ; 
 
 By her whose love-lorn wo. 
 
 In evening musings slow, 
 Sooth'd, sweetly sad, Electra's poet's ear :
 
 88 ODE TO SIMPLICITY. [COLLlNS. 
 
 By old Cephifius deep. 
 
 Who spread his wavy sweep 
 In warbled wanderings, round thy green retreat ; 
 
 On whose enamell'd side. 
 
 When holy Freedom died. 
 No equal haunt allur'd thy future feet. 
 
 O sister meek of Truth, 
 
 To my admiring youth 
 Thy sober aid and native charms infuse ! 
 
 TTie flowers that sweetest breathe. 
 
 Though Beauty cuU'd the wreath. 
 Still ask thy hand to range their ordered hues. 
 
 While Rome could none esteem 
 
 But virtue's patriot theme. 
 You lov'd her hills, and led her laureat band: 
 
 But staid to sing alone 
 
 To one distinguish'd throne ; 
 Ajnd turn'd thy face, and fled her alter'd land. 
 
 No more, in hall or bower. 
 
 The Passions own thy power ; 
 Love, only love, her forceless numbers mean : 
 
 For thou hast left her shrine j 
 
 Nor olive more, nor vine, 
 Shall gain thy feet to bless the servile scene
 
 COLLINS.] ODE TO SIMPLICITY. 89 
 
 Though taste, though genius, bless 
 
 To some divine excess. 
 Faint's the cold work till thou inspire the whole j 
 
 What each, what all supply. 
 
 May court, may charm our eye ; 
 Thou, only thou, canst raise the meeting soul ! 
 
 Of these let others ask. 
 
 To aid some mighty task, 
 I only seek to find thy temperate vale ; 
 
 Where oft my reed might sound 
 
 To maids and shepherds round. 
 And all thy sons, O Nature, learn my tale. 
 
 ODE, 
 
 WRITTEN IN THE YEAR MDCCXLVI. 
 
 [ibid.] 
 
 How sleep the brave, who sink to rest. 
 By all their country's wishes blest? 
 When Spring, with dewy fingers cold. 
 Returns to deck their hallow'd mould.
 
 90 ODE TO MERCY. [COLUNS, 
 
 She there shall dress a sweeter sod 
 Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. 
 
 By fairy hands their knell is rung ; 
 By forms unseen their dirge is sung ; 
 There Honour comes, a pilgrim gray. 
 To bless the turf that wraps their clay ; 
 And Freedom shall awhile repair. 
 To dwell, a weeping hermit, there. 
 
 ODE TO MERCY. 
 
 [ibid.] 
 
 STROPHE. 
 
 O THOU, who sit'st, a smiling bride. 
 
 By Valour's arm'd and awful side. 
 Gentlest of sky-born forms, and best ador*d ; 
 
 Who oft with songs, divine to hear, 
 
 Win'st from his fatal grasp the spear. 
 And hids't in wreaths of flow'rs his bloodless sword ! 
 
 Thou who, amidst the deathful field. 
 
 By godlike chiefs alone beheld.
 
 ( 
 
 COLLJNS.] ODE TO MERCY. 91 
 
 Oft with thy bosom bare art found. 
 
 Pleading for him, the youth who sinks to ground: 
 See, Mercy, see, with pure and loaded hands. 
 Before thy shrine my country's genius stands. 
 
 And decks thy altar still, tho* pierc'd with many a 
 wound I 
 
 ANTISTROPHE. 
 
 When he whom ev'n our joys provoke. 
 
 The fiend of Nature, join'd his yoke. 
 And rush'd in wrath to make our isle his prey ; 
 
 Thy form, from out thy sweet abode. 
 
 Overtook him on his blasted road. 
 And stop'd his wheels, and look'd his rage away. 
 
 I see recoil his sable steeds. 
 
 That bore him swift to savage deeds. 
 Thy tender melting eyes they own ; 
 O maid, for all thy love to Britain shewn. 
 
 Where Justice bars her iron tower. 
 
 To thee we build a roseate bower. 
 Thou, thou shalt rule our queen, and share our mo- 
 narch's throne !
 
 ODE TO FEAR. 
 
 [ibid.] 
 
 1 HOu, to whom the world unknown. 
 With all its shadowy shapes, is shewn ; 
 Who seest, appall'd, th' unreal scene. 
 While Fancy lifts the veil between : 
 
 Ah Fear ! ah frantic Fear ! 
 
 I see, I see thee near. 
 I know thy hurried step ; thy haggard eye ! 
 Like thee I start ; like thee disorder'd fly. 
 For, lo, what monsters in thy train appear! 
 Danger, whose limbs of giant mould 
 What mortal eye can fix'd behold? 
 Who stalks his round, an hideous form. 
 Howling amidst the midnight storm ; 
 Or throws him on the ridgy steep 
 Of some loose hanging rock to sleep : 
 And with him thousand phantoms join'd. 
 Who prompt to deeds accurs'd the mind : 
 And those, the fiends, who, near allied. 
 O'er nature's wounds and vrecks preside ;
 
 LIN^ 
 
 COLLINS^ ODE TO PEAR. , 93 
 
 While Vengeance, in the lurid air. 
 Lifts her red arm, exposed and bare : 
 On whom that ravening brood of Fate, 
 Who lap the blood of Sorrow, wait : 
 Who, Fear, this ghastly train can see. 
 And look not madly wild, like thee ? 
 
 EPODE. 
 
 In earliest Greece, to thee, with partial choice. 
 The grief-full Muse addrest her infant tongue ; 
 
 The maids and matrons, on her awful voice. 
 Silent and pale, in wild amazement hung. 
 
 Yet he, the bard who first invok'd thy name, ] 
 Disdain'd in Marathon its power to feel : 
 
 For not alone he nurs'd the poet's flame. 
 
 But reach'd from Virtue's hand the patriot's steel. 
 
 But who is he whom later garlands grace. 
 Who left awhile o'er Hybla's dews to rove. 
 
 With trembling eyes thy dreary steps to trace. 
 Where thou and furies shar'd the baleful grove ? 
 
 Wrapt in thy cloudy veil, th' incestuous queen 
 Sigh'd the sad call her son and husband heard. 
 
 When once alone it broke the silent scene. 
 
 And he the wretch of Thebes no more appearM.
 
 pRtL 
 
 94 ODE TO FEAn. PBllins. 
 
 O Fear, I know thee by my throbbing heart : 
 
 Thy withering power inspir'd each mournful line ; 
 
 Though gentle Pity claim her mingled part. 
 Yet all the thunders of the scene are thine ! 
 
 ANTISTUOPHE. 
 
 Thou who such weary lengths hast past. 
 Where wilt thou rest, mad Nymph, at last? 
 Say, wilt thou shroud in haunted cell. 
 Where gloomy Rape and Murder dwell ? 
 
 Or, in some hoUow'd seat 
 
 'Gainst which the big waves beat. 
 Hear drowning seamen's cries, in tempests brought ? 
 Dark power, with shuddering meek submitted thought. 
 Be mine, to read the visions old 
 Which thy awakening bards have told : 
 And, lest thou meet my blasted view. 
 Hold each strange tale devoutly true. 
 Ne'er be I found, by thee o'er-aw'd. 
 In that thrice-hallow'd eve, abroad. 
 When ghosts, as cottage-maids believe. 
 Their pebbled beds permitted leave j 
 And goblins haunt, from fire, or fen. 
 Or mine, or flood, the walks of men ! 
 
 O thou whose spirit most possest 
 The sacred seat of Shakspeare's breast !
 
 }ia|P 
 
 MASOia|P IL BELLICOSO' 9^ 
 
 By all that from thy prophet broke. 
 In thy divine emotions spoke. 
 Hither again thy fury deal. 
 Teach me but once like him to feel : 
 His cypress wreath my meed decree. 
 And I, O Fear, will dwell with thee ! 
 
 IL BELLICOSO. 
 
 [mason.] 
 
 Hence, dull lethargic Peace, 
 
 Born in some hoary Beadsman's cell obscure ; 
 
 Or in Circaean bower. 
 Where manhood dies, and Reason's vigils cease ; 
 
 Hie to congenial climes. 
 Where some seraglio's downy tyrant reigns; 
 
 Or where Italian swains. 
 Midst wavy shades, and myrtle-blooming bowers. 
 
 Lull their ambrosial hours. 
 And deck with languid trills their tinkling rhymes. 
 But rouse, thou God by Furies drest. 
 In helm with Terror's plumed crest.
 
 ^hk 
 
 96 IL BELUCOSO. ^MA50N 
 
 In adamantine steel bedight. 
 
 Glistening formidably bright. 
 
 With step unfixed and aspect wild ; 
 
 Jealous Juno's raging child. 
 
 Who thee conceiv'd in Flora's bower. 
 
 By touch of rare Olenian flower ; 
 
 Oft the goddess sigh'd in vain. 
 
 Envying Jove's prolific brai n. 
 
 And oft she stray'd Olympus round. 
 
 Till this specific help she found ; 
 
 Then fruitful grown, she quits the skies. 
 
 To Thracia's sanguine plain she hies. 
 
 There teems thee forth, of nervous mould. 
 
 Haughty, furious, swift and bold, 
 
 Names thee Mars, and bids thee call 
 
 The world from Pleasure's flowery thrall. 
 
 Come then. Genius of the war. 
 
 Roll me in thy iron car ; 
 
 And while thy coursers pierce the sky. 
 
 Breathing fury as they fly. 
 
 Let Courage hurry swift before. 
 
 All stain'd around with purple gore. 
 
 And Victory follow close behind, 
 
 With wreath of palm and laurel join'd. 
 While high above, fair Fame assumes 
 Her place, and waves her eagle plumes.
 
 
 mason!] - BELLICOSO. 97 
 
 Then let the trumpet swell the note. 
 Roaring rough thro' brazen throat ; 
 Let the drum sonorous beat. 
 With thick vibrations hoarsely sweet; 
 Boxen hautboys too be found. 
 Nor be miss'd the fife's shrill sound ; 
 Nor yet the bagpipe's swelling strain. 
 Solace sweet to Highland swain. 
 Whether on some mountain's brow. 
 Now squeaking high, now droning low. 
 He plays deft lilts to Scottish lass. 
 Tripping it o'er the pliant grass. 
 Or whether in the battle's fray. 
 He lively pipes a bolder lay ; 
 The bolder lay (such magic reigns 
 In all its moving Phrygian strains) 
 Disperses swift to all the train. 
 Fury stern, and pale Disdain, 
 Strikes every fire from every mind. 
 Nor leaves one latent spark behind. 
 ,. Bear me now to tented ground. 
 Where gaudy streamers wave around. 
 Where Britain's ensigns high display'd. 
 Lend the earth a scarlet shade ; 
 And pikes, and spears, and lances gay. 
 Glitter in the solar ray ; 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 98 IL BELLICOSO. ^MASON. 
 
 Here Fll join the hardy crowd. 
 As they sport in gamesome mood^ 
 Wrestling on the circled ground. 
 Wreathing limbs with limbs around. 
 Or as they pitch the massy bar. 
 Or teach the disk to whizz in air ; 
 And when night returns, regale 
 With chat full blunt, and chirping ale j 
 While some voice of manly base 
 Sings my darling chevy-chase ; 
 How the child that's yet unborn 
 May rue earl Percy's hound and horn j 
 How Witherington in doleful dumps. 
 Fought right valiant on his stumps ; 
 And many a knight and squire full gay 
 At morn, at night were clad in clay ; 
 While first and last we join and sing, 
 " God prosper long our noble king !" 
 And when midnight spreads around 
 Her sable vestments on the ground. 
 Hence I'll, for a studious seat. 
 To some strong citadel retreat. 
 By ditch and rampart high ypent. 
 And battery strong and battlement ! 
 There, in some state-room richly dight 
 With maily coats and falchions bright.
 
 MASON.] IL BEIXICOSO.. 99 
 
 Emblazon'd shields of quaint impress. 
 And a whole army's gUttering dress. 
 While the taper burneth blue, 
 (As Brutus erst was wont to do) 
 Let me turn the ample page 
 Of some grave historic sage ; 
 Or in Homer's sacred song. 
 Mix the Grecian bards among ; 
 Nestor wise with silver'd head. 
 And Ajax stern, and Diomed, 
 And many more, whose wonderous might 
 Could equal e'en the gods in fight j 
 Or list to Virgil's epic lyre. 
 Or lofty Lucan wrap'd in fire ; 
 But rather far let Shakspeare's Muse 
 lier genuine British fires diffuse ; 
 And briskly with her magic strain 
 Huny me to Gallic plain. 
 Just when each patriot Talbot bleeds. 
 Or when heaven-prosper'd Harry leads 
 His troops with seven -fold courage steel'd. 
 To Agincourt's immortal field. 
 But when th' embattled troops advance, 
 O Mars, my every thought entrance ! 
 Guide me, thundering martial god. 
 Guide thro' Glory's arduous road ! 
 F 2
 
 100 IL BELLICOSO. [mASON. 
 
 While hailing bullets round me fly. 
 And human thunders shake the sky. 
 While crowds of heroes heap the ground. 
 And dying groans are heard around. 
 With armour clanking, clarions sounding. 
 Cannons bellowing, shouts rebounding j 
 Guide me, thundering, martial god. 
 Guide thro' Glory's arduous road ! 
 But should on land thy triumphs cease. 
 Still lead me far from hated Peace ; 
 Me bear, dread Power, for warlike sport 
 To some wave-encircled fort ; 
 Or (if it yield more open sight) 
 To some hoar promontory's height. 
 Whose high-arch'd brow o'erlooks the scene. 
 Where Tritons blue and Naiads green. 
 Sportive from their coral cave. 
 Through the fluid crystal lave j 
 There eagerly I ken from far 
 All the waste of naval War, 
 And catch a sympathetic rage, 
 N While the numerous fleets engage. 
 And every distant shore rebounds 
 To the cannons' rattling sounds. 
 And the sulphurous fire-ship rends. 
 And thousand fates around her sends.
 
 MASON.] It BELUCOSO. Ktf 
 
 And limbs dissever'd huri'd on high. 
 Smoke amid th' affrighted sky. 
 Then let black clouds above my head. 
 With gleams of scarlet thick bespread. 
 With lightning's flash and thunder's growl. 
 Suit the spleen that shades my soul. 
 There too let cranes, a numerous flight. 
 With beaks and claws rage bloody fight. 
 And airy knights from every cloud 
 Prick forth, their armour rattling loud ; 
 With blazing swords, and comets drear. 
 Dragging a trail of flaming hair ; 
 Such as diflus'd their baneful gleam 
 Over besieg'd Jerusalem, 
 Or hung o'er Rome ere Julius fell. 
 And if old sages rightly spell. 
 Were ever deemed to foreshew 
 Changes in our realms below. 
 
 And when at length cold creeping Age 
 Freezes the torrent of my rage. 
 Let me live amongst a crew 
 , Of invalids, of kindi'ed hue ! 
 Of some main limb bereft by War, 
 Or blest with some deep glorious scar ; 
 Scar, that endless glory draws 
 From Liberty and Albion's cause :
 
 103 IL BELUCOSO. [mason. 
 
 Then oft^ well pleas'd, with them retire. 
 To circle round a sea-coal fire. 
 And all our past campaigns recite. 
 Of Vigo*s sack and Blenheim's fight ; 
 How valiant Rooke majestic trod. 
 How Marlbro' thunder'd ; half a god ! 
 And then, with sage prophetic eye. 
 In future battles to descry. 
 That Britain shall not fail to yield 
 Equal generals for the field ; 
 That France again shall pour her blood. 
 And Danube roll a purpled flood. 
 
 And when my children round me throng. 
 The same grand theme shall grace my tongue ; 
 To teach them, should fair England need 
 Their blood, 'tis theirs to wish to bleed ; 
 And, as I speak, to mark with joy 
 New courage start in every boy ; 
 And gladsome read in all their eyes^ 
 Each will a future hero rise. 
 These delights if Mars afford. 
 Mars, with thee I whet my sword.
 
 IL PACIFICO. 
 
 [ibid.] 
 
 Hence, pestilential Mars, 
 
 Of sable-vested night and chaos bred. 
 
 On matter's formless bed, 
 'Mid the harsh din of elemental jars : 
 
 Hence with thy frantic crowd, 
 Wing'd Flight, pale Terror, Discord clothed in fire. 
 
 Precipitate retire ; 
 While mad Bellona cracks her snaky thong. 
 
 And hurries headlong on. 
 To Ach'ron's brink, and Phlegethon's flaming flood. 
 
 But hail, fair Peace ! so mild and meek. 
 With polish'd brow and rosy cheek ; 
 
 That, on thy fleece -white cloud descending. 
 Hither, soft-ey'd queen, art tending 
 
 Gently o'er thy favourite land 
 To wave thy genial myrtle wand ; 
 
 To shake from off" thy turtle wing 
 Th' ambrosial dews of endless spring ; 
 Spring, like that, which poets feign. 
 Gilded Saturn's easy reign : 
 For Saturn's first born daughter- thou ; 
 Unless, as later bards avovR,
 
 104 IL PACIFICO. [mason- 
 
 The youthful god with spangled hair 
 
 Closely clasp'd Harnionia fair : 
 
 For, banish'd erst heaven's star-paved floor, 
 
 (As sings my legendary lore) 
 
 As Phoebus sat by weeping brook. 
 
 With shepherd's scrip and shepherd's crook. 
 
 Pensive 'midst a savage train, 
 
 (For savage then was all the plain) 
 
 Fair Harmonia left her bower. 
 
 To join her radiant paramour : 
 
 Hence didst thou spring ; and at thy birth 
 
 Lenient Zephyrs fan'd the earth. 
 
 Rumbling thunders growl'd no more. 
 
 Prowling wolves forgot to roar. 
 
 And man, from fiercer rage possest, 
 
 Smil'd dissension from his breast. 
 
 She comes, she comes, ye nymphs, prepare 
 
 Gay floral wreaths to bind your hair ; 
 
 Ye swains, inspire the mellow flute 
 
 To dulcet strains, which aptly suit 
 
 The featly-footed saraband 
 
 Of Phillis trim and Marian bland. 
 
 When nimbly light each simpering lass 
 
 Trips it o'er the pliant grass. 
 
 But see, her social smiling train. 
 
 Now invests th' enraptur'd plain ! 
 
 Plenty's treasure-teeming horn 
 
 Shovv'rs its fruits, its flowers, its corn ;
 
 MASON.) IL PACIFICO. '}^ 
 
 Commerce spreads his amplest sail ; 
 Strong-nervM Labour lifts his flail ; 
 Sylvanus too attends (tis he 
 That bears the root-pluek'd cypress tree) 
 He shall my youngling footsteps lead 
 Thro' tufted lawn and fringed mead. 
 By scooped valley, heaped hill. 
 Level river, dancing rill. 
 Where the shepherds all appear, 
 t To shear and wash their fleecy care. 
 
 Which bleating stand the streams around. 
 And whiten all the close-cropt ground : 
 Or when the maids in bonnets sheen. 
 Cock the hay upon the green ; 
 Or up yon steep rough road the swains 
 Drive slow along their rolling wains 
 Where laughing Ceres crowns the stack. 
 And makes the ponderous axle crack. 
 Then to the village on the hill. 
 The barn's capacious jaws to fill. 
 Where the answering flails rebound. 
 Beating bold with thundering sound. 
 Enchanted with this rural scene. 
 Here let me weave my arb'rets green ; 
 Here arch the woodbine, mantling neat, 
 0*er my noon -tide cool retreat j 
 f3 
 
 #
 
 W)6 iL PACiFrco. [mason. 
 
 Or bind the oak with ivy -twine ; 
 
 Or wed the elm and purpling vine. 
 
 But if my vagrant fancy pants 
 
 For charms which simple nature wants. 
 
 Grant,* Power benign, admittance free 
 
 To some rang'd academy : 
 
 There to give to arts refin'd 
 
 All the impulse of my mind ; 
 
 And oft observant take my stand. 
 
 Where the painter's magic hand 
 
 From sketches rude, with gradual art,. 
 
 Calls dawning life to every part, 
 
 Till, with nice tints all laboured high. 
 
 Each starting hero meets the eye : 
 
 Oft too, O ! let me nice inspect 
 
 The draughts of justest architect : 
 
 And hence deligVited let me pass, 
 / Where others mould the ductile brass ; 
 
 Or teach the Parian stone to wear 
 \ A lettered sage's musing air. 
 
 But ah ! these arts have fix'd their home 
 
 In Roman or in Gallic dome : 
 
 Tho' strange beseems, that arts should spread 
 
 Where frowns black Slavery's baleful shade j 
 
 And stranger far that arts decay 
 
 Where Freedom deals her warmest ray.
 
 MASON.] It PACIFICO. 107 
 
 This then deny'd, I'll swift retreat. 
 
 Where Camus winds with murmur sweet : 
 
 There teach me, piercing Locke, t' explore 
 
 The busy mind's ideal store ; 
 
 There, heav'n-rapt Newton, guide my way 
 
 'Mid rolling worlds, thro' floods of day. 
 
 To mark the vagrant comet's road. 
 
 And thro' his wonders trace the God. 
 
 Then, to unbend my mind, I'll r6am 
 
 Amidst the cloisters' silent gloom : 
 
 Or, where rank'd oaks their shades diffuse. 
 
 Hold dalliance with my darling muse. 
 
 Recalling oft some heav'n-born strain. 
 
 That warbled in Augustan reign : 
 
 Or turn well pleas'd the Grecian page. 
 
 If sweet Theocritus engage, [ 
 
 Or blithe Anacreon, mirthful wight, 
 
 Caroll his easy love-lay light. 
 
 Yet let not all my pleasure lie, 
 
 Confm'd to one Phoebeian joy ; 
 
 But ever give my fingers wings. 
 
 Lightly to skim the trembling strings. 
 
 And from some bower to tune the lay. 
 
 While list'ning birds crowd every spray. 
 
 Or hovering silent o'er my head. 
 
 Their quivering wings exulting spread;
 
 108 iL pAcmcd. [mason. 
 
 Save but the turtles, they alone 
 
 With tender plaintive faithful moan. 
 
 Shall tell to all the secret grove. 
 
 Their soft thick-warbled tale of love : 
 
 Sweet birds I your mingling bliss pursuing. 
 
 Ever billing, ever cooing. 
 
 Ye ! constant pair ! I love to note 
 
 Your hoarse strain gurgling in your throat ; 
 
 And ye, unheard from sidelong hills. 
 
 The liquid lapse of whispering rills, 
 
 I hist to hear : such sounds diffuse 
 
 Sweet transports to the thoughtful muse. 
 
 Thus' summer sees me brisk and light, 
 
 Till winter spreads her 'kerchief white ; 
 
 Then to the city's social walls 
 
 Where tolling clock to business calls. 
 
 There the weaver's shuttle speeds 
 
 Nimbly thro' the fine-spun threads ; 
 
 ITiere the vocal anvil rings. 
 
 While the smith his hammer swings ; 
 
 And every man and every boy. 
 
 Briskly join in warm employ. 
 
 Thro' such throng'd scenes full oft I'll range. 
 
 Oft crowd into the rich exchange : 
 
 Or to yon wharf aside the moat. 
 
 Where the ancbor'd ships do float.
 
 MItTON.] l' ALLEGRO. 109 
 
 And others hastening into bay. 
 Swell their sails in fair array ; 
 Wafting to Albion's sons the store 
 That each Peruvian mine can pour ; 
 Wafting to Albion's smiling dames 
 The ruby's glow, the diamond's flames. 
 Till all the Indies rush into the Thames. 
 Joys vast as these my fancy claims; 
 And joys like these if Peace inspire. 
 Peace, with thee I string the lyre. 
 
 L' ALLEGRO. 
 
 "^MILTON.] 
 
 riENCE, loathed Melancholy, 
 
 Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born I 
 In Stygian cave forlorn, 
 'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy. 
 
 Find out some uncouth cell. 
 Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings. 
 And the night-raven sings ; 
 There, under ebon shades, and low-brow'd rocks. 
 As ragged as thy locks. 
 
 In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell.
 
 110 l' allegro. [milton. 
 
 But come, thou goddess, fair and free. 
 In heav'n yclep'd Euphrosyne ; 
 And by men, heart-easing Mirth ; 
 Whom lovely Venus at a birth. 
 With two sister Graces more. 
 To ivy-crowned Bacchus bore ; 
 Or whether (as some sages sing,) 
 ITie frolick wind that breathes the spring. 
 Zephyr with Aurora playing. 
 As he met her once a maying. 
 There, on beds of violets blue. 
 And fresh-blown roses wash'd in dew, 
 Fiird her with thee, a daughter fair. 
 So buxom, blithe, and debonair. 
 Haste thee. Nymph, and bring with thee 
 Jest, and youthful Jollity, 
 Quips, and Cranks, and wanton Wiles, 
 Nods, and Becks, and wreathed Smiles, 
 Such as hang on Hebe's cheek. 
 And love to live in dimple sleek ; , 
 Sport that wrinkled Care derides. 
 And Laughter holding both his sides. 
 Come, and trip it as you go. 
 On the light fantastic toe ; 
 And in thy right hand lead with thee. 
 The mountain nymph, sweet Liberty ; ,
 
 MILTON.] * \! ALLEGRO. Ill 
 
 And, if I give thee honour due. 
 Mirth, admit me of thy crew. 
 To Uve with her, and live with thee. 
 In unreproved pleasures free ; 
 To hear the lark begin his flight. 
 And, singing, startle the dull night. 
 From his watch-tower in the skies, . 
 'Till the dappled dawn doth rise j 
 Then to come, in spite of sorrow. 
 And at my window bid good-morrow. 
 Through the sweet briar, or the vine. 
 Or the twisted eglantine : 
 While the cock, with lively din. 
 Scatters the rear of darkness thin. 
 And to the stack, or the barn-door. 
 Stoutly struts his dames before : 
 Oft list'ning how the hounds and horn 
 Cheerly rouse the slumb'ring morn. 
 From the side of some hoar hill. 
 Through the high wood echoing shrill : 
 Sometimes walking, not unseen. 
 By hedge -row elms, on hillocks green. 
 Right against the eastern gate 
 Where the great sun begins his state, 
 Rob'd in flames, and amber light. 
 The clouds in thousand hveries dight ;
 
 118 1/ ALLEGRO. [MILTOH. 
 
 While the ploughman near at hand 
 Whistles o'er the furrow'd land. 
 And the milk-maid singeth blithe. 
 And the mower whets bis scythe. 
 And every shepherd tells his tale 
 Under the hawthorn in the dale. 
 Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures 
 Whilst the landscape round it measures : 
 Russet lawns, and fallows gray. 
 Where the nibbhng flocks do stray ; 
 Mountains, on whose barren breast 
 The lab'ring clouds do often rest ; 
 Meadows trim with daisies pied. 
 Shallow brooks, and rivers wide : 
 Towers and battlements it sees, 
 Bosom'd high in tufted trees. 
 Where- perhaps some beauty lies. 
 The cynosure of neighbouring eyes. 
 Har<J by, a cottage chimney smoaks. 
 From betwixt two aged oaks. 
 Where Corydon and Thyrsis met. 
 Are at their savoury dinner set 
 Of herbs, and other country messes. 
 Which the neat-banded Phillis dresses ; 
 > And then in haste her bower she leaves. 
 With Thestjiis to bind the sheaves j
 
 MILTON.] l' allegro. 113 
 
 Or, if the earlier season lead. 
 
 To the tan'd haycock in the mead. 
 
 Sometimes, with secure dehght. 
 
 The upland hamlets will invite> 
 
 When the merry bells ring round. 
 
 And the jocund rebecks sound 
 
 To many a youth, and'many a maid. 
 
 Dancing in the chequer'd shade ; 
 
 And young and old come forth to play 
 
 On a sun -shine holy day, 
 
 *Till the live-long day-light fail : 
 
 Then to the spicy nut-brown ale. 
 
 With stories told of many a feat. 
 
 How fairy Mab the junkets eat: 
 
 She was pincht and pull'd, she said ; 
 
 And he by frier's lantern led. 
 
 Tells how the drudging goblin sweat 
 
 To earn his cream-bowl, duly set. 
 
 When, in one night, ere glimpse of morn. 
 
 His shadowy flail had thresh'd the corn 
 
 That ten day-lab'rers could not end ; 
 
 Then lies him down the lubber fiend. 
 
 And stretch'd out all the chimney's length. 
 
 Basks at the fire his hairy strength. 
 
 And crop-full out of door he flings. 
 
 Ere the first cock his matin rings.
 
 114 , l' allegro. [milton. 
 
 Thus done the tales, to bed they creep. 
 
 By whisp'ring winds soon lull'd asleep. 
 
 Tower'd cities please us then. 
 
 And the busy hum of men, 
 
 AVhere throngs of knights and barons bold 
 
 In weeds of peace high triumphs hold. 
 
 With store of ladies, whose brig hteyes 
 
 Rain influence, and judge the prize 
 
 Of wit, or arms, while both contend 
 
 To win her grace, whom all commend. 
 
 There let Hymen oft appear 
 
 In saffron robe, with taper clear,- 
 
 And pomp, and feast, and revelry. 
 
 With masque, and antique pageantry ; 
 
 Such sights as youthful poets dream. 
 
 On summer eves by haunted stream. 
 
 Then to the well-trod stage anon. 
 
 If Jonson's learned sock be on. 
 
 Or sweetest Shakspear, Fancy's child. 
 
 Warble his native wood-notes wild. , 
 
 And ever against eating cares. 
 
 Lap me in soft Lydian airs. 
 
 Married to immortal verse ; 
 
 Such as the melting soul may pierce. 
 
 In notes, with many a winding bout 
 
 Of linked sweetness long drawn out.
 
 MILTON.] IL PENSEROSO. 115 
 
 With wanton heed and giddy cunning ; 
 
 The melting voice through mazes running. 
 
 Untwisting all the chains that tie 
 
 The hidden soul of harmony ; 
 
 That Orpheus' self may heave his head. 
 
 From golden slumber on a bed 
 
 Of heap'd Elysian flowers, and hear 
 
 Such strains as would have won the ear 
 
 Of Pluto, to have quite set free 
 
 His half regained Eurydice. 
 
 These delights if thou canst give. 
 
 Mirth, with thee I mean to live. 
 
 IL PENSEROSO. 
 
 [ibid.] 
 
 Hence, vain deluding joys. 
 
 The brood of Folly without father bred^ 
 
 How little you bested. 
 Or fill the fixed mind with all your toys ? 
 
 Dwell in some idle brain. 
 And fancies fond with gaudy shapes possess. 
 As thick and numberless 
 As the gay motes that people the sun-beams ; 
 Or likest hovering dreams. 
 
 The fickle pensioners of Morpheus' train.
 
 116 IL PENSEBOSO. [mILTON. 
 
 But hail, thou goddess, sage and holy ! 
 
 Hail, divinest Melancholy ! 
 
 Whose saintly visage is too bright 
 
 To hit the sense of human sight. 
 
 And therefore to our weaker view, 
 
 O'erlaid with black, staid Wisdom^s hue ; 
 
 Black, but such as in esteem 
 
 Prince Memnon's sister might beseem. 
 
 Or that star'd Ethiop queen that strove 
 
 To set her beauty's praise above 
 
 The sea nymphs, and their pow'rs offended : 
 
 Yet thou art higher far descended j 
 
 Thee bright-hair'd Vesta, long of yore. 
 
 To solitary Saturn bore. 
 
 His daughter she, (in Saturn's reign 
 
 Such mixture was not held a stain :) 
 
 Oft in glimmering bow'rs and glades 
 
 He met her, and in secret shades 
 
 Of woody Ida's inmost grove. 
 
 Whilst yet there was no fear of Jove. 
 
 Come, pensive nun, devout and pure. 
 
 Sober, stedfast, and demure. 
 
 All in a robe of darkest grain. 
 
 Flowing with majestic train. 
 
 And sable stole of Cyprus lawn. 
 
 Over thy decent shoulders drawn.
 
 MILTON.] IL PENSER03O. 117 
 
 Come, but keep thy wonted state, ' < ~ 
 
 With even step and musing gait, 
 
 And looks commercing with the skies. 
 
 Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes : \'' \ > 
 
 There held in holy passion still, ^' ^ 
 
 Forget thyself to marble, till '^ 
 
 With a sad leaden downward cast 
 
 Thou fix them to the earth as fast : 
 
 And join with thee calm Peace, and Quiet/ 
 
 Spare Fast, that oft with gods doth dietj,,.;' - 
 
 And hears the Muses in a ring. 
 
 Aye, round about Jove's altar, sing : 
 
 And add to these retired Leisure, 
 
 That in trim gardens takes his pleasure : 
 
 But first, and chiefest, with thee bring 
 
 Him that yon soars on golden wing, ~ftt>f>^ 
 
 Guiding the fiery-wheeled throne. 
 
 The cherub Contemplation ; 
 
 And the mute Silence hist along, 
 
 'Less Philomel will deign a song. 
 
 In her sweetest, saddest plight. 
 
 Smoothing the rugged' brow of night. 
 
 While Cynthia checks her dragon yoke. 
 
 Gently o'er th' accustom'd oak : 
 
 Sweet bird, that shun'st the noise of folly. 
 
 Most musical, most melancholy !
 
 118 IL PENSER030. [mILTON. 
 
 ITiee, chauntress, oft the woods among 
 
 I woo, to hear thy even song ; 
 
 And missing thee, I walk unseen 
 
 On the dry smooth- shaven green. 
 
 To behold the wand'ring moon 
 
 Riding near her hightest noon. 
 
 Like one that had been led astray 
 
 Through the heav'n's wide pathless way; 
 
 And oft, as if her head she bovv'd. 
 
 Stooping through a fleecy cloud. 
 
 Oft on a plat of rising ground, 
 
 I hear the far-ofF curfew sound. 
 
 Over some wide-water'd shore 
 
 Swinging slow with sullen roart 
 
 Or if the air will not permit. 
 
 Some still removed place will fit. 
 
 Where glowing embers through the room 
 
 Teach light to counterfeit a gloom ; 
 
 Far from all resor.t of mirth. 
 
 Save the cricket on the hearth ; 
 
 Or the bellman's drowsy charm. 
 
 To bless' the doors from nightly harm. 
 
 Or let my lamp at midnight hour 
 
 Be seen in some high lonely tow'r. 
 
 Where I may oft outwatch the Bear, 
 
 With thrice-great Hermts, or unspherc
 
 MILTON.] It IMfeNStUdSO. 119 
 
 The spirit df Plato, to unfold f*l J^"^ ' f ' ^ 
 
 What worlds, or what vast regions h6kl 
 
 Th' immortal mind, that hath forsook 
 
 Her mansion in this fleshly nook: 
 
 And of those demons that are found 
 
 In fire, air, flood, or under ground. 
 
 Whose power hath a true consent 
 
 With planet, or with element. 
 
 Sometime let gorgeous tragedy 
 
 In scepter'd pall come sweeping by. 
 
 Presenting Thebes', or Pelops* line. 
 
 Or the tale of Troy di\ine : 
 
 Or what (though rare) of later age. 
 
 Ennobled hath the buskin'd stage. 
 
 But, O sad Virgin, that thy power 
 
 Might raise Musaeus from his bower ! 
 
 Or bid the scnA of Orpheus sing 
 
 Such notes, as warbled to the siring. 
 
 Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek. 
 
 And made Hell grant what love did seek ! 
 
 Or call up him that left half told 
 
 The story of Cambuscan bold, ' -'- - 
 
 Of Camball, and of Algarsife, I'tyve ; v.- 
 
 And who had Canace to wife. 
 
 That own'd the virtuous ring and glass; 
 
 And of the wondrous horse of brass, -* 
 
 VOL. I. * .
 
 120 IL PENSEROSO. [mILTON. 
 
 On which the Tartar king did ride : 
 
 And if aught else great bards beside 
 
 In sage and solemn tunes have sung 
 
 Of tourneys, and of trophies hung. 
 
 Of forests, and enchantments drear. 
 
 Where more is meant than meets the ear. 
 
 Thus, Night, oft see me in thy pale career, 
 
 'Till civil-suited Morn appear. 
 
 Not trickt and frounct as she was wont 
 
 With the Attic boy to hunt. 
 
 But kercheft in a comely cloud. 
 
 While rocking winds are piping loud. 
 
 Or usher'd with a shower still. 
 
 When the gust hath blown his fill. 
 
 Ending on the rustling leaves. 
 
 With minute drops from off the eaves. 
 
 And when the sun begins to fling 
 
 His flaring beams, me. Goddess, bring 
 
 To arched walks of twilight groves. 
 
 And shadows brown that Sylvan loves. 
 
 Of pine, or monumental oak. 
 
 Where the rude axe, with heaved stroke. 
 
 Was never heard the nymphs to daunt, . 
 
 Or fright them from their hallow'd haunt. 
 
 There, in close covert, by some brook. 
 
 Where no profaner eye may look.
 
 JUILTON.] IL PENSEROSO. 121 
 
 Hide me from day's garish eye. 
 
 While the bee, with honied thigh. 
 
 That at her flow'ry work doth sing. 
 
 And the waters murmuring. 
 
 With such concert as they keep. 
 
 Entice the dewy-feather'd sleep ; 
 
 And let some strange mysterious dream 
 
 Wave at his wings in airy stream 
 
 Of lively portraiture display'd. 
 
 Softly on my eyelids laid : 
 
 And, as I wake, sweet music breathe 
 
 Above, about, or underneath. 
 
 Sent by some spirit to mortals good. 
 
 Or th' unseen genius of the wood. 
 
 But let my due feet never fail 
 
 To walk the studious cloister's pale. 
 
 And love the high embowed roof. 
 
 With antique pillars massy proof. 
 
 And storied windows richly dight. 
 
 Casting a dim reUgious light : 
 
 There let the pealing organ blow. 
 
 To the fuU-voic'd choir below. 
 
 In service high, and anthems clear. 
 
 As may with sweetness, through mine ear. 
 
 Dissolve me into ecstasies. 
 
 And bring all heav'n before mine eyes. - 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 123 poLLio; [mickie. 
 
 And may at last my weary age 
 Find out the peaceful hermitage. 
 The hairy gown, and mossy cell. 
 Where I may sit and rightly spell 
 Of ev'ry star that heaven doth shew. 
 And ev'ry herb that sips the dew j 
 'Till old Experience do attain 
 To something like prophetic strain. 
 These pleasures. Melancholy, give, 
 And^I with thee will choose to live. 
 
 POLLIO; 
 
 AN ELEGIAC ODE. 
 
 [mickle.] 
 
 The peaceful evening breathes her balmy store. 
 The playful school-boys wanton o'er the green. 
 
 Where spreading poplars shade the cottage door. 
 The villagers in rustic joy convene. 
 
 Amid the secret windings of the wood. 
 With solemn Meditation let me stray;
 
 MtCKLE.^ POIXIO. 13S 
 
 This is the hour when to the wise and good 
 The heavenly maid repays the toils of day. 
 
 The river murmurs, and the breathing gale 
 Whispers the gently-waving boughs among: 
 
 The star of evening glimmers o'er the dale. 
 And leads the silent host of heaven along. 
 
 How bright, emerging o'er yon broom-clad height^ 
 The silver empress of the night appears ! 
 
 Yon limpid pool reflects a stream of light. 
 And faintly in its breast the woodland bears. 
 
 The waters, tumbling o'er their rocky bed. 
 Solemn and constant from yon dell resound ; 
 
 The lonely hearths blaze o'er the distant glade ; 
 The bat, low-wheeling, skims the dusky ground. 
 
 August and hoary, o'er the sloping dale. 
 The Gothic abbey rears its sculptur'd tow'rs ; 
 
 Dull thro' the roofs resounds the whistling gale. 
 Dark solitude among the pillars low'rs. 
 
 Where yon old trees bend o'er a place of graves. 
 
 And solemn, shade a chapel's sad remains ; 
 
 Where yon scath'd poplar through the windows waves. 
 
 And, twining round, the hoary arch sustains ; 
 g2
 
 ^24 ToLLio. [mickli:. 
 
 There oft, at dawn, as one forgot behind^ 
 Who longs to follow, yet unknowing where. 
 
 Some hoary shepherd, o'er his staff reclin'd. 
 Pores on the graves, and sighs a broken pray*r. 
 
 High o*er the pines, that with their dark'ning shade 
 Surround yon craggy bank, the castle rears 
 
 Its crumbling torrents ; still its tow'ry head 
 A.'w^arUke mien, a sullen grandeur wears. 
 
 So, *midst the snow of age, a boastful air 
 Still on the war-worn veteran's brow attends ; 
 
 Still his big bones his youthful prime declare, 
 Tho' trembling o'er the feeble crutch he bends. 
 
 Wild round the gates the dusky wall-flow'rs creep. 
 Where oft the knights the beauteous dames have led ; 
 
 Gone is the bow'r, the grot a ruin'd heap. 
 
 Where bays and ivy o'er the fragments spread. 
 
 'Twas here our sires, exulting from the fight. 
 
 Great in their bloody arms, march'd o'er the lea. 
 
 Eyeing their rescued fields with proud delight ! 
 Now lost to them ! and, ah ! how chang'd to me ! 
 
 This bank, the river, and the fanning breeze. 
 The dear idea of my Pollio bring j
 
 MICKLE.] POLLIO. 125 
 
 So shone the moon thro* these soft-nodding trees. 
 When here we wander'd in the eves of spring. 
 
 When April's smiles the flow'ry lawn adorn. 
 And modest cowslips deck the streamlet's sidej 
 
 When fragrant orchards to the roseate morn 
 
 Unfold their bloom, in heav'n's own colours dyed : 
 
 So fair a blossom gentle Pollio wore. 
 These were the emblems of his healthful mind; 
 
 To him the lettered page display'd its. lore. 
 To him bright Fancy all her wealth resign'd ; 
 
 Him with her purest flames the Muse endowed. 
 Flames never to th' illiberal thought allied : 
 
 The sacred sisters led where Virtue glow'd 
 In all her charms ; he saw, he felt, and died. 
 
 O partner of my infant griefs and joys ! 
 
 Big with the scenes now past, my heart overflows ; 
 Bids each endearment, fair as once, to rise. 
 
 And dwells luxurious on her melting woes. 
 
 Oft with the rising sun, when life was new. 
 Along the woodland have I roam'd with thee ; 
 
 Oft by the moon have brush'd the evening dew. 
 When all was fearless innocence and glee.
 
 13(1 foitio. [micklb. 
 
 The sainted well, where yon bleak hill declines. 
 Has oft been conscious of those happy hours ; 
 
 But now the hill, the river crown'd with pines. 
 And sainted well have lost their cheering powers i 
 
 For thou art gone. My guide, my friend ! oh where. 
 Where hast thou fled, and left me here behind ? 
 
 My tend'rest wish, my heart to thee was bare ; 
 Oh now cut off each passage to my mind ! 
 
 How dreary is the gulph ! how dark, how void 
 The trackless shores that never were repass'd ! 
 
 Dread separation ! on the depth untried, 
 Hope falters, and the soul recoils aghast ! 
 
 Wide round the spacious heavens I cast my eyes : 
 And shall these stars glow with immortal fire ? 
 
 Still shine the lifeless glories of the skies ? 
 
 And could thy bright, thy living soul expire ? 
 
 Far be the thought ! The pleasures most sublime. 
 The glow of friendship, and the virtuous tear. 
 
 The tow'ring wish that scorns the bounds of time, 
 Chill'd in this vale of death, but languish here. 
 
 So plant the vine on Norway's wintry land. 
 The languid stranger feebly buds, and dies :
 
 MICKLE.] POLLIO. 127 
 
 Yet there's a clime where Virtue shall expand 
 With godlike strength beneath her native skies! 
 
 The lonely shepherd on the mountain's side 
 With patience waits the rosy-opening day; 
 
 The mariner at midnight's darksome tide 
 
 With cheerful hope expects the morning ray : 
 
 |>Thus I, on life's storm-beaten ocean toss'd. 
 In mental vision view the happy shore. 
 Where Pollio beckons to the peaceful coast. 
 Where fate and death divide the friends no more ! 
 
 Oh that some kind, some pitying kindred shade. 
 Who now perhaps frequents this solemn grove. 
 
 Would tell the awful secrets of the dead. 
 And from my eyes the mortal film remove ! 
 
 Vain is the wish yet surely not in vain 
 Man's bosom glows with that celestial fire 
 
 Which scorns earth's luxuries, which smiles at pain. 
 And wings his spirit with sublime desire ! 
 
 To fan this sps^rk of heaven, this ray divine. 
 
 Still, O my soul ! still be thy dear employ; 
 Still thus to wander thro' the shades be thine, 
 . And swell thy breast with visionary joy !
 
 ^3^ poLLio. [micklk.^ 
 
 So to the dark-brow'd wood, or sacred mount. 
 
 In ancient days, the holy seers retir'd ; 
 And, led in vision, drank at Siloe's fount, 
 
 While rising ecstasies their bosoms fir'd. 
 
 Restor'd creation bright before them rose. 
 The burning deserts smil'd as Eden's plains : 
 
 One friendly shade the wolf and lambkin chose ; 
 The flow'ry mountain sung, * Messiah reigns 1* 
 
 Tho* fainter raptures my cold breast inspire. 
 Yet let me oft frequent this solemn scene ; 
 
 Oft to the abbey's shattered walks retire. 
 What time the moonshine dimly gleams between. 
 
 There, where the cross in hoary ruin nods. 
 
 And weeping yews o'ershade the letter'd stones. 
 
 While midnight silence wraps these drear abodes. 
 And sooths me wandering o'er my kindred bones. 
 
 Let kindled Fancy view the glorious mom. 
 When from the bursting graves the just shall rise. 
 
 All Nature smiling, and, by angels borne, 
 Messiah's cross far blazing o'er the skies !
 
 ODE TO WISDOM. 
 
 [mrs. carter.] 
 
 The solitary bird of night 
 
 Thro' the thick shades now wings his flight. 
 
 And quits the time-shook toVr, 
 Where, shelter'd from the blaze of day. 
 In philosophic gloom he lay. 
 
 Beneath his ivy bow'r. 
 
 With joy I hear the solemn sound. 
 Which midnight echoes waft around. 
 
 And sighing gales repeat : 
 Fav'rite of Pallas ! I attend. 
 And, faithful to thy summons, bend 
 
 At Wisdom's awful seat. 
 
 She loves the cool, the silent eve. 
 Where no false shows of life deceive. 
 
 Beneath the lunar ray : 
 Here Folly drops each vain disguise. 
 Nor sports her gaily-colour'd dyes. 
 
 As in the glare of day. 
 G 3
 
 i30 ODE TO WISDOM. [mRS. CARTER. 
 
 O Pallas ! queen of every art 
 
 ' That glads the sense, or mends the heart,* 
 
 Blest source of purer joys; 
 In ev'ry form of beauty bright. 
 That captivates the mental sight 
 
 With pleasure and surprize j 
 
 At thy unspotted shrine I bow : 
 Assist thy modest suppliant's vow. 
 
 That breathes no wild desires ; 
 But, taught by thy unerring rules 
 To shun the fruitless wish of fools. 
 
 To nobler views aspires. 
 
 Not fortune's gem, ambition's plume. 
 Nor Cytherea's fading bloom. 
 Be objects of my pray'r; 
 Let av'rice, vanity, and pride. 
 Those envied glitt'ring toys divide. 
 The dull rewards of care. 
 
 To me thy better gifts impart. 
 Each moral beauty of the heart, 
 ' By studious thought refin'd : 
 For wealth, the smiles of glad content ; 
 For pow'r, its amplest, best extent. 
 An empire o'er the mind.
 
 MRS. CARTER.] ODE TO VmSDdM. 131 
 
 When Fortune drops her gay parade. 
 When Pleasure's transient roses fade. 
 
 And wither in the tomb, 
 UnchangM is thy immortal prize. 
 Thy ever-verdant laurels rise 
 
 In undecaying bloom. 
 
 By thee protected, I defy 
 
 The coxcomb's sneer, the stupid lie 
 
 Of ignorance and spite ; 
 Alike contemn the leaden fool. 
 And all the pointed ridicule 
 
 Of undiscerning wit. 
 
 From envy, hurry, noise, and strife. 
 The dull impertinence of life. 
 
 In thy retreat I rest. 
 Pursue thee to thy peaceful groves. 
 Where Plato's sacred spirit roves. 
 
 In all thy graces drest. 
 
 He bid Ilyssus' tuneful stream 
 Convey thy philosophic theme 
 
 Of perfect, fair, and good : 
 Attentive Athens caught the sound. 
 And all her list'ning sons around 
 
 In awful silence stood.
 
 *Si ODE TO WISDOM". . [mRS. CARTER, 
 
 Reclaim'd, her wild licentious youth 
 Confessed the potent voice of truth. 
 
 And felt its just controul : 
 The passions ceas'd their loud alarms. 
 And virtue's soft persuasive charms 
 
 O'er all their senses stole. 
 
 Thy breath inspires the poet's song. 
 The patriot's free unbiass'd tongue. 
 
 The hero's gen'rous strife : 
 Thine are retirement's silent joys. 
 And all the sweet endearing ties 
 
 Of still domestic life. 
 
 No more to fabled names confin'd. 
 To thee, supreme, all-perfect mind. 
 
 My thoughts direct their flight : 
 Wisdom's thy gift, and all her force 
 From thee deriv'd, unchanging source 
 
 Of intellectual light ! 
 
 O send her sure, her steady ray 
 To regulate my doubtful way. 
 
 Thro' life's perplexing road j 
 The mists of error to controul ; 
 And thro' its gloom direct my soul 
 
 To happiness and good !
 
 MRS. CARTER.] THE TRANQUIL EVENING. 133 
 
 Beneath her clear discerning eye 
 The visionary shadows fly 
 
 Of Folly's painted show : 
 She sees, thro' ev'ry fair disguise^ 
 That all but Virtue's solid joys 
 
 Is vanity and wo. 
 
 THE TRANQUIL EVENING. 
 
 [ibid.] 
 
 Xlow sweet the calm of this sequester'd shore. 
 Where ebbing waters musically roll ; 
 
 And solitude, and silent eve restore 
 The philosophic temper of the soul ! 
 
 The sighing gale, whose murmurs lull to rest 
 The busy tumult of declining day, 
 
 To sympathetic quiet sooths the breast. 
 And every wild emotion dies away. 
 
 * 
 
 Farewell the objects of diurnal care. 
 Your task be ended with the setting sun j
 
 
 
 134 THE TRANQUIL EVENING. [mRS. CARTER. 
 
 Let all be undisturb'd vacation here. 
 While o'er yon wave ascends the peaceful moon. 
 
 What beauteous visions o'er the soften'd heart. 
 In this still moment all their charms diffuse, 
 
 Serener joys and brighter hopes impart. 
 And cheer the soul with more than mortal views. 
 
 Here faithful Memory wakens all her powers, 
 She bids her fair ideal forms ascend ; 
 And quick to ev'ry gladden'd thought restores 
 The social virtue, and the absent friend. 
 
 Come, *******, come, and with me share 
 The sober pleasures of this solemn scene. 
 
 While no rude tempest clouds the ruffled air. 
 But all, like thee, is smiUng and serene. 
 
 Come, while the cool, the solitary hours 
 Each foohsh care and giddy wish controul. 
 
 With all thy soft persuasion's wonted pow'rs. 
 Beyond the stars transport my listening soul. 
 
 Oft, when on earth detain'd by empty show. 
 Thy voice has taught the trifler how to rise ; 
 
 Taught her to look with scorn on things below> 
 And seek her better portion in the skies.
 
 CRAVES.] TO THE FEATHERED RACK; 135 
 
 Come, and the sacred eloquence repeat ; 
 
 The world shall vanish at its gentle sound. 
 Angelic forms shall visit this retreat. 
 
 And opening Heav'n diffuse its glories round. 
 
 TO THE FEATHERED RACE. 
 
 [graves,] 
 
 Again the balmy zephyr blows. 
 
 Fresh verdure decks the grove. 
 Each bird with vernal rapture glows. 
 
 And tunes his notes to love. 
 
 Ye gentle warblers, hither fly. 
 
 And shun the noon-tide heat j 
 My shrubs a cooling shade supply. 
 
 My groves a safe retreat. 
 
 Here freely hop from spray to spray. 
 
 Or weave the mossy nest ; 
 Here rove and sing the live-long day. 
 
 At night here sweetly rest. 
 
 Amidst this cool translucent rill. 
 That trickles down the glade.
 
 136 TO THE FEATHERED RACE. [GRAVES; 
 
 , Here bathe your plumes, here drink your fill. 
 And revel in the shade. 
 
 No school-boy rude, to mischief prone. 
 
 E'er shews his ruddy face. 
 Or twangs his bow, or hurls a stone. 
 
 In this sequester'd place. 
 
 Hither the vocal thrush repairs. 
 
 Secure the linnet sings. 
 The goldfinch dreads no slimy snares 
 
 To clog her painted wings. 
 
 Sad Philomel ! ah, quit thy haunt. 
 
 Yon distant woods among. 
 And round my friendly grotto chaunt 
 
 Thy sweetly plaintive song. 
 
 Let not the harmless red-breast fear,. 
 
 Domestic bird, to come 
 And seek a sure asylum here. 
 
 With one that loves his home. 
 
 My trees, for you, ye artless tribe. 
 
 Shall store of fruit preserve ; 
 Oh, let me thus your friendship bribe. 
 
 Come, feed without reserve.
 
 ANON.] THE beggar's PETITION. 137 
 
 For you these cherries I protect. 
 
 To you these plums belong ; 
 Sweet is the fruit that you have peck'd. 
 
 But sweeter far your song. 
 
 Let then this league betwixt us made. 
 
 Our mutual interests guard ; 
 Mine be the gift of fruit and shade 
 
 Your songs be my reward. 
 
 THE BEGGAR'S PETITION. 
 
 [anon.] 
 
 r iTY the sorrows o( a poor old man. 
 
 Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door. 
 Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span. 
 
 Oh ! give relief and Heav'n will bless your store. 
 
 These tatter'd clothes my poverty bespeak. 
 
 These hoary locks proclaim my lengthened years ; 
 
 And many a furrow in my grief-worn cheek. 
 Has been the channel to a flood of tears. 
 
 Yon house, erected on the rising ground. 
 With tempting aspect drew me from my road
 
 188 THE beggar's petition. [anon. 
 
 For plenty there a residence has found. 
 And grandeur a magnificent abode. 
 
 Hard is the fate of the infirm and poor ! 
 
 Here, as I crav'd a morsel of their bread, 
 A pamper'd menial drove me from the door. 
 
 To seek a shelter in an humbler shed. 
 
 Oh ! take me to your hospitable dome ! 
 
 Keen blows the wind, and piercing is the cold ! 
 Short is my passage to the friendly tomb. 
 
 For I am poor and miserably old. 
 
 Should I reveal the sources of my grief. 
 If soft humanity e'er touch'd your breast. 
 
 Your hands would not with-hold the kind relief. 
 And tears of pity would not be represt. 
 
 Heaven sends misfortunes why should we repine ? 
 
 'Tis Heav'n has brought me to the state you see ; 
 And your condition may be soon like mine 
 
 The child of sorrow and of misery. 
 
 A little farm was my paternal lot ; 
 
 Then, like the lark, I sprightly hailM the morn j 
 But ah ! oppression forc'd me from my cot. 
 
 My cattle died, and blighted was my com.
 
 MRS. BARBAULD.] ODE TO SPRING, 139 
 
 My laughter once the comfort of my age ! 
 
 Lur'd by a villain from her native home. 
 Is cast abandon'd on the world's wide stage. 
 
 And doom'd in scanty poverty to roam. 
 
 My tender wife sweet soother of my care ! 
 
 Strucjc with sad anguish at the stern decree. 
 Fell lingering fell, a victim to despair. 
 
 And left the world to wretchedness and me. 
 
 Pity the sorrows of a poor old man. 
 
 Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door> 
 Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span. 
 
 Oh ! give relief and Heaven will bless your store. 
 
 ODE TO SPRING. 
 
 (|mRS. BARBAULD.] 
 
 Sweet daughter of a rough and stormy sire. 
 Hoar Winter's blooming child ; delightful Spring ! 
 
 Whose unshorn locks with leaves 
 
 And swelling buds are crown'd;
 
 140 ODE TO SPRING. [MRS. BARBAULD. 
 
 From the green islands of eternal youth, 
 
 (Crown'd with fresh blooms, and ever-springing shade) 
 
 Turn, hither turn thy step, 
 
 O thou, whose powerful voice 
 
 More sweet than softest touch of Doric reed. 
 Or Lydian flute, can sooth the madding winds. 
 
 And thro* the stormy deep 
 
 Breathe thy own tender calm. 
 
 Thee, best belov'd ! the virgin train await. 
 With songs and festal rites, and joy to rove 
 
 Thy blooming wilds among. 
 
 And vales and dewy lawns. 
 
 With untir^d feet ; and cull thy earliest sweets 
 To weave fresh garlands for the glowing brow 
 
 Of him the favoui-'d youth 
 
 That prompts their whisper'd sigh. 
 
 Unlock thy copious stores ; those tender showers. 
 That drop their sweetness on the infant buds. 
 
 And silent dews that swell 
 
 The milky ear's green stem. 
 
 And feed the flowering osier's early shoots ; 
 
 And call those winds which thro' the whisp'ring boughs
 
 .MRS. BARBAULD,] ODE TO SPRINCS. T4:l 
 
 With warm and pleasant breath 
 Salute the blowing flowers. 
 
 Now let me sit beneath the whitening thorn. 
 And mark thy spreading tints steal o'er the dale ; 
 
 And watch with patient eye 
 
 Thy fair unfolding charms. 
 
 O Nymph approach ! while yet the temperate sun 
 With bashful forehead, thro' the cool moist air 
 
 Throws his young maiden beams. 
 
 And with chaste kisses wooes 
 
 The earth's fair bosom ; while the streaming veil 
 Of lucid clouds with kind and frequent shade 
 
 Protects thy modest blooms 
 
 From his severer blaze. 
 
 Sweet is thy reign, but short ; the red dog-star 
 Shall scorch thy tresses, and the mower's scythe 
 
 Thy greens, thy flow'rets all. 
 
 Remorseless shall destroy. 
 
 Reluctant shall I bid thee then farewell ; 
 For O, not all that Autumn's lap contains. 
 
 Nor Summer's ruddiest fruits. 
 
 Can aught for thee atone.
 
 1^ ODE TO CONTENT. [mRS. BARBAULD. 
 
 Fair Spring ! whose simplest promise more delights 
 Than all their largest wealth, and thro* the heart 
 
 Each joy and new bom hope 
 
 With softest influence breathes. 
 
 ODE TO CONTENT. 
 
 [ibid.] 
 
 O THOU, the Nj^Mph with placid eye ! 
 O seldom found, yet ever nigh ! 
 
 Receive my temperate vow : 
 Not all the storms that shake the pole 
 * Can e'er disturb thy halcyon soul. 
 
 And smooth unalter'd brow. 
 
 O come, in simplest vest array'd. 
 With all thy sober cheer displayed 
 
 To bless my longing sight ; 
 Thy mien corapos'd, thy even pace. 
 Thy meek regard, thy matron grace. 
 
 And chaste subdued delight.
 
 MRS. BARBAULD.] ODE TO CONTENT. 14S 
 
 No more by varying passions beat> ' 
 
 O gently guide my pilgrim feet 
 
 To find thy hermit cell ; 
 Where in some pure and equal sky 
 Beneath thy soft indulgent eye 
 
 The modest virtues dwell. 
 
 Simplicity in Attic vest. 
 
 And Innocence with candid breast, . 
 
 And clear undaunted eye ; 
 And Hope, who points to distant years. 
 Fair op'ning thro' this vale of tears 
 
 A vista to the sky. 
 
 There Health, thro* whose calm bosom glide 
 The temperate joys in even tide. 
 
 That rarely ebb or flow ; 
 And Patience there, thy sister meek. 
 Presents her mild, unvarying cheek 
 
 To meet the offer'd blow. 
 
 Her influence taught the Phrygian sage 
 A tyrant master's wanton rage 
 
 With settled smiles to meet ; 
 Inur'd to toil and bitter bread. 
 He bow'd his meek submitted head. 
 
 And kiss'd thy sainted feet.
 
 144 ODE TO CONTENT. [mrS. BARBAULD. 
 
 But thou, O Nymph retir'd and coy ! 
 In what brown hamlet dost thou joy 
 
 To tell thy tender tale ; 
 The lowliest children of the ground. 
 Moss-rose and violet blossom round. 
 
 And lily of the vale. 
 
 say what soft propitious hour 
 
 1 best may choose to hail thy power. 
 
 And court thy gentle sway ? 
 When Autumn, friendly to the Muse, 
 Shall thy own modest tints diffuse. 
 
 And shed thy milder day. 
 
 When Eve, her dewy star beneath. 
 Thy balmy spirit loves to breathe. 
 
 And every storm is laid : 
 If such an hour was e'er thy choice. 
 Oft let me hear thy soothing voice. 
 
 Low whispering through the shade.
 
 ODE TO MOItNING. 
 
 [anon.] 
 
 The sprightly messenger of day 
 To Heaven ascending tunes the lay 
 
 That wakes the blushing mom : 
 Cheer'd with th* inspiring notes, I rise 
 And hail the power, whose glad supplies 
 
 Th' enhven'd plains adorn. 
 
 Far hence retire, O Night! thy praise. 
 Majestic queen ! in nobler lays 
 
 Already has been sung : 
 When thine own spheres expire, thy name^ 
 Secure from time, shall rise in fame. 
 
 Immortalized by Young. 
 
 See, while I speak, Aurora sheds 
 Her early honours o'er the meads. 
 
 The springing vallies smile ; 
 With cheerful heart the village swain 
 Renews the labours of the plain. 
 
 And meets th' accustom'd toil. 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 ODE TO MORNING. [aNON 
 
 Day's monarch comes to bless the year, 
 Wing'd Zephyrs wanton round his car. 
 
 Along th' ethereal road ; 
 Plenty and Health attend his beams. 
 And Truth, divinely bright, proclaims 
 
 The visit of the God. 
 
 Aw'd by the view, my soul reveres 
 
 The great first cause that bade the spheres 
 
 In tuneful order move ; 
 Thine is the sable-mantled night. 
 Unseen Almighty ! and the light 
 
 The radiance of thy love. 
 
 Hark ! the aw aken'd grove repa.y8 
 With melody the genial rays. 
 
 And echo spreads the strain ; 
 The streams in grateful murmurs run, 
 The bleating flocks salute the sun, 
 V And music glads the plain. 
 
 While Nature thus her charms displays. 
 Let me enjoy the fragrant breeze 
 
 The opening flowers diffuse ; 
 Temp'rance and Innocence attend, 
 Tliese are your haunts, your influence lend, 
 
 Associates of the Muse !
 
 AKON.] ODE TO MORNING. l47 
 
 Riot, and Guilt, and wasting Care, 
 And fell Revenge, and black Despair, 
 
 Avoid the Morning's light ; 
 Nor beams the sun, nor blooms the rose. 
 Their restless passions to compose. 
 
 Who Virtue's dictates slight. 
 
 Along the mead, and in the wood, i' ' 
 
 And on the margin of the flood 
 
 The goddess walks confest : 
 She gives the landscape power to charm. 
 The sun his genial heat to warm 
 
 The wise and generous breast. 
 
 Happy the man ! whose tranquil mind 
 Sees Nature in her changes kind. 
 
 And pleas'd the whole surveys ; 
 For him the morn benignly smiles. 
 And evening shades reward the toils 
 
 That measure out his days. 
 
 The varying year may shift the scene. 
 The sounding trumpet lash the main. 
 
 And Heav'n's own thunders roll j 
 Calmly he views the bursting storm. 
 Tempests nor thunder can deform 
 
 The morning of his soul. 
 h2
 
 ODE TO SOLITUDE. 
 
 [graingek.] 
 
 O Solitude, romantic maid. 
 Whether by nodding towers you tread. 
 Or haunt the desert's trackless gloom. 
 Or hover o'er the yawning tomb. 
 Or climb the Andes' clifted side. 
 Or by the Nile's coy source abide. 
 Or starting from your half-year's sleep 
 From Hecla view the thawing deep. 
 Or at the purple dawn of day, 
 Tadmor's marble wastes survey ; 
 You, Recluse, again I woo. 
 And again your steps pursue. 
 
 Plum'd Conceit himself surveying. 
 Folly with her shadow playing, 
 Purse-proud, elbowing Insolence, 
 Bloated empiric, puflf'd Pretence, 
 Noise that through a tnmipet speaks. 
 Laughter in loud peals that breaks. 
 Intrusion with a fopling's face, 
 (Ignorant of time and place)
 
 GRAINGER.] ODB TO SOLITUDE. 149 
 
 Sparks of fire Dissension blowing. 
 Ductile, court-bred Flattery, bowing. 
 Restraint's stiff neck. Grimace's leer, *'*' 
 Squint-ey'd Censure's artful sneer. 
 Ambition's buskins steep'd in blood. 
 Fly thy presence. Solitude. 
 
 Sage Reflection bent with years. 
 Conscious Virtue void of fears. 
 Muffled Silence, wood-nymph shy. 
 Meditation's piercing eye. 
 Halcyon Peace on moss recUn'd, 
 Retrospect that scans the mind. 
 Rapt earth-gazing Reverie, 
 Blushing artless Modesty, 
 Health that snuffs the morning air, 
 FuU-ey'd Truth with bosom bare. 
 Inspiration, Nature's child. 
 Seek the solitary wild. 
 
 You with the tragic Muse retirM 
 The wise Euripides inspir'd. 
 You taught the sadly-pleasing air 
 That Athens sav'd from ruins bare. 
 You gave the Cean's tears to flow. 
 And unlock'd the springs of wo ; 
 
 -5'T 
 
 A /
 
 .150 ODE TO SOLITUDE. [CRAINCEK. 
 
 You pen'd what exil'd Naso thought. 
 And pour'd the melancholy note. 
 With Petrarch o'er Valcluse you stray'd^ 
 When Death snatch'd his long lov'd maid it'< 
 You taught the rocks her loss to mourn, ,.A 
 And strew'd with flowers her virgin um. (M 
 And late in Hagley you were seen. 
 With blood-shed eyes, and sombre mien. 
 Hymen his yellow vestment tore. 
 And Dirge a wreath of cypress wore. 
 But chief your own the solemn lay 
 That wept Narcissa young and gay. 
 Darkness clap'd her sable wing. 
 While you touch'd the mournful string. 
 Anguish left the pathless wild, 
 Grim-fac'd Melancholy smil'd. 
 Drowsy Midnight ceas'd to yawn. 
 The starry hdst put back the dawn. 
 Aside their harps ev'n Seraphs flung 
 To hear thy sweet Complaint, O Young. 
 
 When all Nature's hush'd asleep. 
 Nor Love nor Guilt their vigils keep. 
 Soft you leave your cavem'd den. 
 And wander o'er the works of men. 
 But when Phosphor brings the dawn. 
 By her dappled coursers drawn.
 
 CnAINGER.] ODE TO S0LITUD6. 151 
 
 Again you to the wild retreat 
 
 And the early huntsman meet. 
 
 Where as you pensive pace along. 
 
 You catch the distant shepherd's song. 
 
 Or brush from herbs the pearly dew. 
 
 Or the rising primrose view. 
 
 Devotion lends her heav'n-plum'd wings. 
 
 You mount, and Nature with you sings. 
 
 But when mid-day fervors glow. 
 
 To upland airy shades you go. 
 
 Where never sunburnt woodman came. 
 
 Nor sportsman chas'd the timid game ; 
 
 And there beneath an oak reclin'd. 
 
 With drowsy w^^terllls behind. 
 
 You sink to rest. 
 
 'Till the tuneful bird of night 
 
 From the neighboring poplar's height. 
 
 Wake you with her solemn strain. 
 
 And teach pleas'd Echo to complain. 
 
 With you roses brighter bloom. 
 Sweeter every sweet perfume, ' 
 Purer every fountain flows. 
 Stronger every wilding grows. 
 
 Let those toil for gold who please. 
 Or for fame renounce their ease.
 
 15d ODB TO SOLITUDE. [gRAINGER. 
 
 What is fame ? an empty bubble : 
 Gold ? a transient shining trouble. 
 Let them for their country bleed. 
 What wa Sidney's, Raleigh's meed ? 
 Man's not worth a moment's pain. 
 Base, ungrateful, fickle, vain. 
 Then let me, sequester'd fair. 
 To yovu: Sibyl grot repair. 
 On yon hanging cliff it stands 
 Scoop'd by Nature's salvage hands, 
 Bosom'd in the gloomy shade 
 Of cypress not with age decay'd : 
 Where the owl still-hooting sits. 
 Where the bat incessant flits. 
 There in loftier strains I'll sing 
 Whence the changing seasons spring. 
 Tell how storms deform the skies. 
 Whence the waves subside and rise. 
 Trace the comet's blazing tail. 
 Weigh the planets in a scale; 
 Bend, great God, before thy shrine. 
 The bournless macrocosm's thine. 
 
 Save me ! what's yon shrouded shade. 
 That wanders in the dark-brown glade ? 
 It beckons me ! vain fears adieu, 
 Mysterioxis ghost, I follow you.
 
 GRAtNGEIu] ODE TO SOLITUDE. \oB 
 
 Ah me ! too well that gait I know. 
 
 My youth's first friend, my manhood's wo I 
 
 Its breast it bares ! what ! stain'd with blood? 
 
 Quick let me stanch the vital flood. 
 
 O spirit, whither art thou flown ? 
 
 Why left me comfortless alone ? 
 
 O Sohtude, on me bestow 
 
 The heart-felt harmony of wo. 
 
 Such, such, as on th' Ausonian shore. 
 
 Sweet Dorian Moschus trill'd of yore : 
 
 No time should cancel thy desert. 
 
 More, more, than Bion was, thou wert. 
 
 O goddess of the tearful eye. 
 The never-ceasing stream supply. 
 Ijet us with Retirement go 
 To charnels, and the house of wo. 
 O'er Friendship's herse low-droopiag mourn. 
 Where the sickly tapers bum. 
 Where Death and nun-clad Sorrow dwell. 
 And nightly ring the s<demn knell. 
 The gloom dispels, the charnel smiles. 
 Light flashes through the vaulted iles. 
 Blow silky soft, thou western gale, 
 O goddess of the desert, hail ! 
 She bursts from yon cliff-riven cave. 
 Insulted by the wintry wave 
 h3 
 
 Mfi:
 
 ^54 ODE TO SOLITCDE. [gRAINCEIU 
 
 Her brow an ivy garland binds. 
 Her tresses wanton with the winds, 
 A lion's spoils, without a zone. 
 Around her limbs are careless thrown ; 
 Her right-hand wields a knotted mace. 
 Her eyes roll wild, a stride her pace. 
 Her left a magic mirror holds, . 
 In which she oft herself beholds. 
 O goddess of the desert, hail ! 
 And softer blow, thou western gale ! 
 
 Since in each scheme of life I've fail'd. 
 And disappointment seems entail'd ; 
 Since all on earth I valued most. 
 My guide, my stay, my friend is lost ; 
 You, only you, can miake me blest. 
 And hush the tempest in my breast. 
 Then gently deign to guide my feet 
 To your hermit-trodden seat. 
 Where I may live at last my own. 
 Where I at last may die unknown. 
 
 I spoke, she twin'd her magic ray,^ 
 And thus she said, or seem'd to say : 
 Youth, you are mistaken, if you think to find 
 In shades almedicine for a troubled mind :
 
 Grainger.] ode to solitude. 155 
 
 Wan Grief will haunt you wheresoe'er you go. 
 
 Sigh in the breeze, and in the streamlet flow. 
 
 There pale Inaction pines his life away. 
 
 And, satiate, curses the return of day : 
 
 There naked Frenzy laughing wild with pain. 
 
 Or bares the blade, or plunges in the main : 
 
 There Superstition broods o'er all her fears. 
 
 And yells of demons in the Zephyr hears. 
 
 But if a hermit you're resolv'd to dwell. 
 
 And bid to social life a last farewell ; 
 
 'Tis impious , 
 
 God never made an independent man, 
 
 *Twould jar the concord of his general plan: 
 
 See every part of that stupendous whole, 
 
 * Whose body Nature is, and God the soul,' 
 
 To one great end, the general good, conspire. 
 
 From matter, brute, to man, to seraph, fire. 
 
 Should man through nature solitary roam. 
 
 His will his sovereign, every where his home. 
 
 What force would guard him from the lion's jaw? 
 
 What swiftness wing him from the panther's paw ? 
 
 Or should. Fate lead him to some safer shore. 
 
 Where panthers, never prowl, nor lions roar ; 
 
 Where liberal nature all her charms bestows. 
 
 Suns shine, birds sing, flowers bloom, and. water flows. 
 
 ^,*
 
 ^56 ODE TO SOLITUDE. [gRAINGER. 
 
 Fool, dost thou think he'd revel on the store, 
 
 Absolve the care of Heav'n, nor ask for more ? 
 
 Tho* waters flovi^'d, flovi^'rs bloom'd, and Phoebus shone. 
 
 He'd sigh, he'd murmur that he was alone. 
 
 For know, the Maker on the human breast 
 
 A sense of kindred, country, man, imprest ; 
 
 And social life to better, aid, adorn. 
 
 With proper faculties each mortal's bom. 
 
 Though Nature's works the ruling mind declare. 
 And well deserve enquiry's serious care. 
 The God (whate'er Misanthropy may say) 
 Shines, beams in man with most unclouded ray. 
 What boots it thee to fly from pole to pole. 
 Hang o'er the sun, and with the planets roll ?. 
 What boots through space's furthest bourns to roam. 
 If thou, O man, a stranger art at home ? 
 Then know thyself, the human mind survey. 
 The use, the pleasure will the toil repay. 
 Hence Inspiration plans his manner'd lays. 
 Hence Homer's crown, and, Shakespear, hence thy bays. 
 Hence he, the pride of Athens, and the shame. 
 The best and wisest of mankind became. 
 Nor study only, practice what you know. 
 Your life, your knowledge, to mankind you owe. 
 With Plato's olive wreath the bays entwin^ 
 Those who in study, should in practice shine.
 
 GRAINGER.] ODE TO SOLITUDE. 15*? 
 
 Say, does the learned lord of Hagley's shade. 
 
 Charm man so much by mossy fountains laid. 
 
 As when arous'd, he stems corruption's course. 
 
 And shakes the senate with a Tully's force ? 
 
 When freedom gasp'd beneath a Caesar's feet. 
 
 Then public virtue might to shades retreat ; 
 
 But where she breathes, the least may useful be. 
 
 And freedom, Britain, still belongs to thee. 
 
 Though man's ungrateful, or though Fortune frown ; 
 
 Is the reward of worth a song, or crown ? 
 
 Nor yet unrecompens'd are Virtue's pains. 
 
 Good Allen lives, and bounteous Brunswick reigns. 
 
 On each condition disappointments wait. 
 
 Enter the hut, and force the guarded gate. 
 
 Nor dare repine, though early friendship bleed. 
 
 From love, the world, and all its cares he's freed. 
 
 But know. Adversity's the child of God ; 
 
 Whom Heaven approves of most, most feel her rod. 
 
 When smooth old ocean and each storm's asleep. 
 
 Then Ignorance may plough the watery deep. 
 
 But when the demons of the tempest rave. 
 
 Skill must conduct the vessel through the wave. 
 
 Sidney, what good man envies not thy blow ? 
 
 Who would not wish Anytus for a foe ? 
 
 Intrepid Virtue triuniphs over Fate, 
 
 The good can never be unfortunate.
 
 153 ON THE DEATH OP ADDISON. [tiCKELL. 
 
 And be this maxim graven in thy mind. 
 The height of virtue is to serve mankind. 
 
 But when old age has silver'd o'er thy head, 
 When memory fails, and all thy vigour's fled. 
 Then may'st thou seek the stillness of retreat. 
 Then hear aloof the human tempest beat. 
 Then will I greet thee to my woodland cave. 
 Allay the pangs of age, and smooth thy grave. 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF MR. ADDISON. 
 
 [tickell.] 
 
 to the earl of wajiwick. 
 
 If, dumb too long, the drooping Muse hath staid. 
 
 And left her debt to Addison unpaid ; 
 
 Blame not her silence, Warwick, but bemoan. 
 
 And judge, oh judge, my bosom by your own. 
 
 What mourner ever felt poetic fires ! 
 
 Slow comes the verse, that real wo inspires: 
 
 Grief unaffected suits but ill with art. 
 
 Or flowing numbers with a bleeding heart.
 
 TICKELL.] ON THE DEATH Of ADDISON. 159 
 
 Can I forget the dismal nighty that gave 
 My soul's best part for ever to the grave ! ; 
 
 How silent did his old companions tread. 
 By midnight lamps, the mansions of the dead. 
 Through breathing statues, then unheeded things. 
 Through rows of warriors, and through walks of kings!' 
 What awe'did the slow solemn knell inspire. 
 The pealing organ, and the pausing choir ; 
 The duties by the lawn-robed prelate paid; 
 And the last words, that dust to dust convey'd ! 
 While speechless o'er thy closing grave we bend. 
 Accept these tears, thou dear departed friend. 
 Oh gone for ever, take this long adieu ; 
 And sleep in peace, next thy lov'd Montagu ! 
 
 To strew fresh laurels, let the task be mine, 
 A frequent pilgrim at thy sacred shrine ; 
 Mine with true sighs thy absence to bemoan. 
 And grave with faithful epitaphs thy stone. 
 If e'er from me thy lov'd memorial part. 
 May shame afflict this alienated 'heart; 
 Of thee forgetful if I form a song. 
 My lyre be broken, and untun'd my tongue. 
 My grief be doubled, from thy image free. 
 And mirth a torment, unchastis'd by thee.
 
 16(1 ON THE DEATH OF ADDISON. [tICKELL. 
 
 Oft let me range the gloomy aisles alone, 
 (Sad luxury ! to vulgar minds unknown) 
 Along the walls where speaking marbles shew 
 What worthies form the hallow'd mould below : 
 Proud names, who once the reins of empire held ; 
 In arms who triumph'd ; or in arts excel'd ; 
 Chiefs, graced with scars, and prodigal of blood ; 
 Stern patriots, who for sacred freedom stood ; 
 Just men, by whom impartial laws were given ; 
 And saints, who taught, and led the way to heaven. 
 Ne'er to these chambers, where the mighty rest. 
 Since their foundation, came a nobler guest ; 
 Nor e'er was to the bowers of bliss convey'd 
 A fairer spirit, or more welcome shade. 
 
 In what new region, to the just assigned. 
 What new employments please th' unbodied mind ? 
 A winged virtue, through th' ethereal sky. 
 From world to world unwearied does he fly. 
 Or curious trace the long laborious maze 
 Of heaven's decrees, where wond'ring angels gaze? 
 Does he delight to hear bold seraphs tell. 
 How Michael battled, and the Dragon fell ? 
 Or, mix'd with milder cherubim, to glow 
 \n hymns of love, not ill essay'd below ?
 
 TICKELL.] ON THE DEATH OF ADDISON. 1^1 
 
 Or dost thou warn poor mortals left behind, 
 
 A task well suited to thy gentle mind? 
 
 Oh, if sometimes thy spotless form descend. 
 
 To me thy aid, thou guardian genius, lend ! 
 
 When age misguides me, or when fear alarms. 
 
 When pain distresses, or when pleasure charms. 
 
 In silent whisp'rings purer thoughts impart. 
 
 And turn from ill d frail and feeble heart ; 
 
 Lead through the paths thy virtue trod before, 
 
 'Till bliss shall join, nor death can part us more. 
 
 That awful form (which, so the heav'ns decree. 
 
 Must still be lov'd, and still deplor'd by me) 
 
 In nightly visions seldom fails to rise. 
 
 Or rous'd by fancy, meets my waking eyes. 
 
 If business calls, or crowded courts invite, 
 
 Th* unblemish'd statesman seems to strike my sight j 
 
 If in the stage I seek to sooth my care, 
 
 I meet his soul which breathes in Cato there; 
 
 If pensive to the rural shades I rove. 
 
 His shape overtakes me in the lonely grove : 
 
 'Twas there of just and good he reasoned strong, 
 
 Clear'd some great truths, or raised some serious song j 
 
 There patient shew'd us the wise course to steer, 
 
 A candid censor, and a friend sincere ; 
 
 There taught us how to live ; and (oh ! too high 
 
 The price for knowledge) taught us how to die.
 
 163 ON THE DEATH OF ADDISON. [tiCKELL. 
 
 Thou hill, whose brow the antique structures grace, 
 Rear'd by bold chiefs of Warwick's noble race. 
 Why, once so lov'd, whene'er thy bower appears. 
 O'er my dim eye-balls glance the sudden tears ! 
 How sweet were once thy prospects fresh and fair. 
 Thy sloping walks, and unpolluted air ! 
 How sweet the glooms beneath thy aged trees. 
 Thy noon-tide shadow, and the evening breeze !. 
 His image thy forsaken bowers restore j 
 Thy walks and airy prospects charm no more j 
 No more the summer in thy glooms allay'd. 
 Thy evening breezes, and thy noon-day shade*. 
 
 From other ills, however Fortune frown'd. 
 Some refuge in the Muse's art I found ; 
 Reluctant now I touch the trembling string. 
 Bereft of him, who taught me how to sing ; 
 And these sad accents, murmur'd o'er his urn. 
 Betray that absence they attempt to mourn. 
 Oh ! must I then (now fresh my bosom bleeds. 
 And Craggs in death to Addison succeeds) 
 The verse, begun to one lost friend, prolongs 
 And weep a second in th' unfinish'd song ! 
 
 These words divine, which, on his death-bed laid,. 
 To thee, O Craggs, th' expiring sage convey'd.
 
 VR. PERCY.] CYNTHIA. l^^ 
 
 Great, but ill-omen'd monument of fame. 
 
 Nor he surviv'd to give, nor thou to claim. 
 
 Swift after him thy social spirit flies, , 
 
 And close to his, how soon thy coffin lies ! 
 
 Blest pair ! whose union future bards shall tell 
 
 In future tongues ; each other's boast ! farewell. 
 
 Farewell, whom join'd in fame, in friendship tried. 
 
 No chance could sever, nor the grave divide. 
 
 CYNTHIA; 
 
 AN ELEGIAC POEM. 
 [dr. PERCY.] 
 
 Beneath an aged oak's embow'ring shade. 
 
 Whose spreading arms with gray moss fringed were. 
 
 Around whose trunk the clasping ivy stray'd ; 
 A love-lorn youth oft pensive would repair. 
 
 Fast by a Naiad taught her stream to glide. 
 
 Which through the dale a winding channel wore ; 
 
 The silver willow deck'd its verdant side. 
 
 The whisp'ring sedges wav'd along the shore.
 
 164 CYNTBIA. [dK. PEhCf. 
 
 Here oft, when morn peep'd o*er the dusky hill ; 
 
 Here oft when eve bedew'd the misty vale ; 
 Careless he laid him all beside the rill. 
 
 And pour'd in strains like these his artless tale. 
 
 Ah ! would he say and then a sigh would^heave ; 
 
 Ah Cynthia ! sweeter than the breath of morn. 
 Soft as the gentle breath that fans at eve. 
 
 Of thee bereft how shall I live forlorn ? 
 
 Ah ! what avails this sweetly solemn bow*r. 
 
 That silent stream where dimpling eddies play ; 
 
 Yon thymy bank bedeck'd with many a flow*r. 
 Where maple-tufts exclude the beam of day ? 
 
 Rob'd of my love, for how can these delight. 
 
 Though lavish Spring her smiles around has cast ! 
 
 Despair, alas ! that whelms the soul in night. 
 Dims the sad eye and deadens every taste. 
 
 As droops the lily at the blighting gale ; 
 
 Or crimson- spotted cowslips of the mead. 
 Whose tender stalk (alas ! their stalk so frail) 
 
 Some hasty foot hath bruis'd with heedless tread : 
 
 As droops the woodbine, when some village hind 
 Hath fell'd the sapling elm it fondly bound ;
 
 DR. PERCY.] CVNTHIA. 1^5 
 
 No more it gadding dances in the wind, 
 Byt trails its fading beauties on the ground : 
 
 So droops my soul, dear maid, downcast and sad. 
 For ever ! ah ! for ever torn from thee ; 
 
 Bereft of each sweet hope, which once it had. 
 When love, when treacherous love first smil'd on me. 
 
 Return blest days, return ye laughing hours. 
 
 Which led me up the roseate steep of youth ; 
 Which strew'd my simple path with vernal flow'rs. 
 
 And bade me court chaste Science and fair Truth* 
 
 - ffoll 
 Ye know, the curling breeze, or gilded fly 
 
 That idly wantons in the noontide air. 
 Was not so free, was not so gay as I, 
 
 For ah ! I knew not then or love, or care. 
 
 Witness, ye winged daughters of the year. 
 If e'er a sigh had learnt to heave my breast ! 
 
 If e'er my cheek was conscious of a tear, 
 'Till Cynthia came and rob'd my soul of rest! 
 
 O have you seen, bath'd in the morning dew. 
 The budding rose its infant bloom display ; 
 
 When first its virgin tints unfold to view. 
 It shrinks and scarcely trusts the blaze of day.
 
 I6a CYNTHIA. [dr. PERCY. 
 
 So soft, SO delicate, so sweet she came. 
 
 Youth's damask glow just dawning on her cheek : 
 
 I gaz'd, I sigh'd, I caught the tender flame. 
 
 Felt the fond pang, and droop'd with passion, weak. 
 
 Yet not unpitied was my pain the while ; 
 
 For oft beside yon sweet-briar in the dale. 
 With many a blush, with many a melting smile. 
 
 She sate and listened to the plaintive tale. 
 
 Ah me ! I ft)ndly dreamt of pleasures rare. 
 
 Nor deem'd so sweet a face with scorn could glow ; 
 
 How could you cruel then pronounce despair. 
 Chill the warm hope, and plant the thorn of wo ? 
 
 What though no treasures canker in my chest. 
 Nor crowds of suppliant vassals hail me lord ! 
 
 What though my roof can boast no princely guest. 
 Nor surfeits lurk beneath my frugal board ! 
 
 Yet should Content, that shuns the gilded bed. 
 With smiling Peace, and Virtue there forgot. 
 
 And rose-lip'd Health, which haunts the straw-built 
 shed. 
 With cherub Joy, frequent my little cot : 
 
 Led by chaste Love, the decent band should come, 
 O charmer would' st thou deign my roof to share ;
 
 DR. PERCY.] CYNTHIA. 167 
 
 Nor should the Muses scorn our simple dome, 
 Gr knit in mystic dance, the Graces fair. 
 
 The Tiroodland nymphs, and gentle fays, at eve 
 Forth from the dripping cave and mossy dell. 
 
 Should round our hearth fantastic measures weave. 
 And shield from mischief by their guardian spelL 
 
 Come then bright maid, and quit the cky throng; 
 
 Have rural joys no charm to win the soul ? 
 She proud, alas ! derides my lowly song. 
 
 Scorns the fond yow, and spurns the russet stole. 
 
 TThen Love begone, thy thriftless empire yield, . 
 
 In youthful toils I'll lose the unmanly pain: 
 With echoing horns I'll rouse the jocund field. 
 
 Urge the keen chase, and sweep along the plain. 
 
 Or all in some lone moss-grown tow*r sublime 
 
 With midnight lamp I'll watch pale Cynthia round. 
 
 Explore the choicest rolls of ancient Time, 
 
 And heal with Wisdom's balm my hapless wound. 
 
 Or else I'll roam ah no! that sigh profound 
 Tells me that stubborn love disdains to yield : 
 
 Nor flight, nor Wisdom's balm can heal the wound. 
 Nor pain forsake me in the jocund field. 
 
 \
 
 THE LAWYER'S FAREWELL TO HIS 
 MUSE. 
 
 [judge blackstone.] 
 
 As by some tyrant's stem command, 
 A wretch forsakes his native land. 
 In foreign climes condemned to roam 
 An endless exile from his home ; 
 Pensive he treads the destined way. 
 And dreads to go, nor dares to stay ; 
 'Till on some neighb'ring mountain's brow 
 He stops, and turns his eyes below ; 
 There, melting at the well-known view. 
 Drops a last tear, and bids adieu : 
 So I, thus doom'd from thee to part. 
 Gay queen of Fancy and of Art, 
 Reluctant move, with doubtful mind. 
 Oft stop, and often look behind. 
 
 Companion of my tender age. 
 Serenely gay, and sweetly sage. 
 How blithsome were we wont to rove 
 By verdant hill, or shady grove.
 
 JUDGE BLACKSTONE.] THE L4WYEr's FAREWELL. 169 
 
 Where fervent bees, with humming voice, ^ 
 
 Around the honey'd oak rejoice. 
 
 And aged elms with aweful bend 
 
 In long cathedral walks extend ! 
 
 LuU'd by the lapse of gliding floods, 
 
 Cheer'd by the warbling of the woods. 
 
 How blest my days, my thoughts how free. 
 
 In sweet society with thee ! 
 
 Then all was joyous, all was young. 
 
 And years unheeded roH'd along : 
 
 But now the pleasing dream is o'er. 
 
 These scenes must charm me now no more, 
 
 Lost to the field, and torn from you. 
 
 Farewell ! a long, a last adieu. 
 
 Me wrangling courts, and stubborn Law, 
 To smoke, and crowds, and cities draw ; ' . 
 There selfish Faction rules the day. 
 And Pride and Av'rice throng the way : 
 Diseases taint the murky air. 
 And midnight conflagrations glare j 
 Loose Revelry and Riot bold 
 In frighted streets their orgies hold ; 
 Or, when in silence all is drown'd. 
 Fell Murder walks his lonely round : 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 170 THE LAWYEll's FAREWELL [jUDGE BLACKSTONE. 
 
 ^ No room fot PeaOe, no room for you. 
 Adieu, celestial nymph, adieu ! 
 
 Shakspearfe no more, thy sylvan son. 
 Nor all the alt of AddiSon, 
 Pope's heav'n-strung lyre, nor Wallet's e9SQ> 
 Nor Milton's mighty self must please : 
 Instead of these, a formal band 
 In furs and coifs around me stand ; 
 With sounds uncouth and accents dry 
 That grate the soul of harmony. 
 Each pedant sage unlocks his store. 
 Of mystic, dark, discordant lore ; 
 And points with tottering hand the ways 
 That lead me to the thorny maze. 
 
 There, in a winding, close retreat. 
 Is Justice doom'd to fix her seat. 
 There, fenc'd by bulwarks of the Law, 
 She keeps the wond'ring world in awe j 
 And there, from vulgar sight retir'd. 
 Like eastern queens, is more admir'd. 
 
 O let me pierce the secret shade 
 Where dwells the venerable maid !
 
 JUDGE BLACKSTONE.] TO HIS MUSE. i7t 
 
 There humbly mark, with rev*rent awe. 
 The guardian of Britannia's Law, 
 Unfold with joy her sacred page, 
 (Th' united boast of many an age. 
 Where mix'd, yet uniform, appears 
 The wisdom of a thousand years) 
 In that pure spring the bottom view. 
 Clear, deep,>nd regularly true. 
 And other doctrines thence imbibe 
 Than lurk within the sordid scribe ; 
 Observe how parts with parts unite 
 In one harmonious rule of right ; 
 See countless wheels distinctly tend 
 By various laws to one great end ; 
 While mighty Alfred's piercing soul 
 Pervades and regulates the whole. 
 
 Then welcome business, welcome strife. 
 Welcome the cares, the thorns of life. 
 The visage wan, the pore-blind sight. 
 The toil by day, the lamp at night. 
 The tedious forms, the solemn prate. 
 The pert dispute, the dull debate. 
 The drowsy bench, the babbling hall. 
 For thee, fair Justice, welcome all ! 
 I 2
 
 I7f THE FIRE-SIDE. [cOTTON- 
 
 Thus though my noon of life be past. 
 Yet let my setting sun, at last. 
 Find out the still, the rural cell. 
 Where sage Retirement loves to dwell ! 
 There let me taste the homefelt bliss 
 Of innocence, and inward peace j 
 Untainted by the guilty bribe ; 
 Uncurs'd amid the harpy-tribe ; 
 No orphan's cry to wound my ear ; 
 My honour and my conscience clear ; 
 Thus may I calmly meet my end. 
 Thus to the grave in peace descend. 
 
 THE FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 [cotton.] 
 
 Dear Chloe, while the busy crowd. 
 The vain, the wealthy, and the proud. 
 
 In folly's maze advance ; 
 Though singularity and pride 
 Be call'd our choice, we'll step aside, 
 
 Kor join the giddy dance.
 
 COTTON.] THE FIRE-SIDE. 173 
 
 From the gay world we'll oft retire 
 To our own family and fire. 
 
 Where love our hours employs : 
 No noisy neighbour enters here. 
 No intermeddling stranger near. 
 
 To spoil our heart-felt joys. 
 
 If solid happiness we prize. 
 Within our breast this jewel lies ; 
 
 And they are fools who roam : 
 The world has nothing to bestow. 
 From our own selves our joys must flow. 
 
 And that dear hut, our home. 
 
 Of rest was Noah*s dove bereft. 
 When, with impatient wing, she left 
 
 That safe retreat, the ark ; 
 Giving her vain excursion o'er. 
 The disappointed bird once more . 
 
 Explor'd the sacred bark. 
 
 Though fools spurn Hymen's gentle pow'rs. 
 We, who improve his golden hours. 
 
 By sweet experience know. 
 That marriage, rightly understood. 
 Gives to the tender and the good 
 
 A paradise below.
 
 174 THE FIRE-SIDE. [cOTTON. 
 
 Our babes shall richest comforts bring ; 
 If tutor'd right, they'll proye a spring 
 
 Whence pleasures ever rise ; 
 We'll form their minds with studious care. 
 To aU that's manly, good, and fair. 
 
 And train them for the skies. 
 
 While they our wisest hours engage. 
 They'll joy our youth, support our age. 
 
 And crown our hoary hairs ; 
 They'll grow in virtue every day. 
 And thus our fondest loves repay. 
 
 And recompense our cares. 
 
 No borrow'd joys ! they are all our own^ 
 While to the world we live unknown* 
 
 Or by the world forgot : 
 Monarchs ! we envy not your state. 
 We look with pity on the great. 
 
 And bless our humbler lot. 
 
 Our portion is not large, indeed. 
 But then how little do we need ? 
 For nature's calls are few : 
 In this, the art of living lies. 
 To want no more than may suffictr. 
 And make that little do.
 
 COTTON.] TO5 FIKE-Sipp. 175 
 
 We'll therefore relish with content, 
 Whate'er kind Providence has sent. 
 
 Nor aim beyond our pow'r ; 
 For if our stock be very sn^all, 
 'Tis prudence to enjoy it all. 
 
 Nor lose the present hour. 
 
 To be resign'd, when ills betide. 
 Patient, when favours are deny'd. 
 
 And pleas'd wjth favours giv'ix J ! , 
 
 Dear Chloe, this is Wisdom's part. 
 This is that inpense of tlje ^e^rt, 
 
 Whose fragrance smells to Heav'n. 
 
 We'll ask no long protr?icted treat, 
 (Since winter life is seldom sweet) 
 
 But when our feast is o'er. 
 Grateful from (able we'll arise. 
 Nor grudge our sons with envious eyes. 
 
 The relics of our stoff ., 
 
 Thus hand in hand through life well go. 
 Its chequer'd paths of joy and wOj( 
 
 With cautious steps we'll tread ; 
 Quit its vain scenes without a tear. 
 Without a trouble, or a fear. 
 
 And mingle with the dead :
 
 176 THE TRIUMPH OF INDIFFERENCE. [aNON. 
 
 While Conscience, like a faithful friend. 
 Shall through the gloomy vale attend. 
 
 And cheer our dying breath ; 
 Shall, when all other comforts cease. 
 Like a kind angel, whisper peace. 
 
 And smooth the bed of death. 
 
 THE TRIUMPH OF INDIFFERENCE, 
 
 IMITATED FROM METASTASIO. 
 
 [anon.] 
 
 Thanks, dear coquet! indulgent cheat ! 
 Kind heaven, and your more kind deceit. 
 
 At length have set me free ; 
 No more I sigh, and doat, and pine. 
 All ease without, and calm within. 
 
 In peace and liberty. 
 
 Cupid no more has power to scorch. 
 Time sure has roVd him of his torch. 
 
 Ne'er was a cooler creature : 
 That name no more has such eclat, 
 No more my heart goes pit-a-pat 
 
 At sight of each dear feature.
 
 ANON.] THE TRIUMPH OF INDIFFERENCE. 177 
 
 I sleep at night, and sometimes dream* 
 Nor you the fond vexatious theme ; 
 
 I wake, nor think about you : 
 I meet, I leave you, meet again. 
 But feel- no mighty joy or pain. 
 
 Or with yoUi or without you. 
 
 Now with indifference I chat 
 
 Of eyes, lips, hubbies, and all that. 
 
 And laugh at former follies : 
 Joke with my rival when we meet, 
 ^Vhat eye so keen ! what lips so sweet I 
 
 What skin so soft as Molly's I 
 
 Leave then those little torturing arts^ 
 You practice on complying hearts ; 
 
 They're all in vain, believe me : 
 Whether those eyes look kind, or weep. 
 The pouting, or the smiling lip. 
 
 Will neither please, nor grieve me 
 
 From those despotic looks, no more 
 (Once tyrants of each fickle hour) 
 
 I date my grief and joy : 
 May, though you frown, looks sweetly clad ; 
 And dull December's mighty sad. 
 
 Though you stand smiling by. 
 1 3
 
 178 THE TRIUMPH OF INDIFFERENCE. [aNON. 
 
 Yet still (for I am quite sincere) 
 You're mighty pretty, ^true, my dear; 
 
 But, like your pretty sex. 
 You've here and there, and now and then 
 A failing ; for like other men, 
 
 I now can spy defects. 
 
 Yet once with coward fondness curs'd. 
 My poor weak heart I fear'd would burst 
 
 At thought of separation : 
 ' But now despise my feeble chain. 
 And bless the salutary pain 
 
 That cur*d me of my passion. 
 
 Impatient of his iron cage. 
 
 The bird thus spends his little rage. 
 
 And 'scapes with shatter'd wings : 
 But soon with new-fledg'd pinions soars. 
 And hastening to his native bow'rs, 
 
 A joyful welcome sings. 
 
 Fond female vanity will say. 
 
 These long harangues they sure betray 
 
 A heart that's hankering still : 
 This passion so proclaim'd in song, 
 This tale so pleasing to the tongue. 
 
 Does it not touch the will ?
 
 ANON.] THE TRIUMPH OF INDIFFERENCE. 179 
 
 Lovers, like soldiers, Molly, dwell 
 
 With pleasure on the horrid tfile, .^, 
 
 When all the danger's o*er : 
 Like other slaves from fetters free. 
 We smile with anxious joy, to see 
 
 The chains whiph once we wore. 
 
 In kind indulgence to a heart, 
 Engag'd in so severe a part. 
 
 This sweet revenge I write ; 
 Rail, weep, be woman all, for I 
 Lull'd in indifference, defy 
 
 Your fondness or your spite. 
 
 A frail false maid I lost, but you 
 A man, fond, generous, and true ; 
 Which fortune is the worse ? 
 Try all love's mighty empire round> 
 A faithful lover's seldom found ; 
 , A jilt's a common curse.
 
 THE TEARS OF SCOTLAND. 
 
 [sMOLLETT.] ' 
 
 1746. 
 
 Mourn, hapless Caledonia, mourn 
 Thy banish'd peace, thy laurels torn ! 
 Thy sons, for valour long renown'd. 
 Lie slaughtered on their native ground : 
 Thy hospitable roofs no more J m i'li 
 
 Invite the stranger to the door j 
 In smoky ruins sunk they lie. 
 The monuments of cruelty. 
 
 The wretched owner sees afar 
 His all become the prey of war ; 
 Bethinks him of his babe, and wife. 
 Then smites his breast, and curses life ! . 
 Thy swains are famish'd on the rocks 
 Where onoe they fed their wanton flocks : 
 Thy ravish'd virgins shriek in vain j 
 Thy infants perish on the plain. 
 
 What boots it then, in every clime 
 Tlifough the wide-spreading waste of time.
 
 SMOLLETT.] THE TEARS OF SCOTLAND. I8l 
 
 Thy martial glory, crown'd with praise. 
 Still shone with undiminished blaze ? 
 Thy towering spirit now is broke. 
 Thy neck is bended to the yoke. 
 What foreign arms could never quell. 
 By civil rage and rancour fell. 
 
 The rural pipe and merry lay 
 No more shall cheer the happy day : 
 No social scenes of gay delight 
 Beguile the dreary winter night : 
 No strains, but those of sorrow flow. 
 And nought be heard but sounds of wo. 
 While the pale phantoms of the slain 
 Glide nightly o'er the silent plain. 
 
 O baneful cause ! oh, fatal morn, 
 Accurs'd to ages yet unborn ! 
 The sons against their fathers stood. 
 The parent shed his children's blood. 
 Yet, when the rage of battle ceas'd. 
 The victor's soul was not appeas'd ; 
 The naked and forlorn must feel 
 Devouring flames, and murdering steel ! 
 
 The pious mother, doom'd to death. 
 Forsaken wanders o'er the heath.
 
 ODE TO LEVEN WATER. [sMOLLETT. 
 
 The bleak wind whistles round her head. 
 Her helpless orphans cry for bread ; 
 Bereft of shelter, food, and friend. 
 She views the shades of night descend. 
 And stretch'd beneath th* inclement skies. 
 Weeps o'er her tender babes and dies. 
 
 While the warm blood bedews my veins. 
 And unimpair'd remembrance reigns. 
 Resentment of my country's fate. 
 Within my fiHal breast shall beat ; 
 And, spite of her insulting foe. 
 My sympathising verse shall flow : 
 ' Mourn, hapless Caledonia, mourn 
 Thy banish'd peace, thy laurels torn/ 
 
 ODE TO LEVEN WATER, 
 
 [ibid.] 
 
 On Leven's'banks, while free to rove. 
 And tune the rural pipe to love ; 
 I envied not the happiest swain 
 That ever trod th' Arcadian plain.
 
 SMOLLETT.] ODE TO LEVEN WATER. 183 
 
 Pure stream ! in whose transparent wave 
 
 My youthful hmbs I wont to lave ; 
 
 No torrents stain thy limpid source ; 
 
 No rocks impede thy dimpling course. 
 
 That sweetly warbles o'er its bed. 
 
 With white, round, polish'd pebbles spread ; 
 
 While, lightly pois'd, the scaly brood 
 
 In myriads cleave the crystal flood ; 
 
 The springing trout, in speckled pride; 
 
 The salmon, monarch of the tide ; 
 
 The ruthless pike, intent on war ; 
 
 The silver eel, and mottled par. 
 
 Devolving from thy parent lake, 
 
 A charming maze thy waters make. 
 
 By bowers of birch, and groves of pine. 
 
 And edges flower'd with eglantine. 
 
 Still on thy banks, so gaily green. 
 May numerous herds, and flocks be seen. 
 And lasses chanting o'er the pail. 
 And shepherds piping in the dale. 
 And ancient faith that knows no guile. 
 And industry imbrown'd with toil. 
 And hearts resolv*d, and hands prepar'^. 
 The blessings they enjoy to guiard.
 
 ODE ON MELANCHOLY. 
 
 to a frjend. 
 
 [mason.] 
 
 Ah ! cease this kind persuasive strain. 
 
 Which, when it flows from friendship's tongue. 
 
 However weak, however vain, 
 
 O'erpowers beyond the Siren's song : 
 
 Leave me, my friend, indulgent go. 
 
 And let me muse upon my wo. 
 
 Why lure me from these pale retreats ? 
 
 Why rob me of these pensive sweets ? 
 
 Can Music's voice, can Beauty's eye. 
 
 Can Painting's glowing hand, supply 
 
 A charm so suited to my mind. 
 
 As blows this hollow gust of wind. 
 
 As drops this little weeping rill 
 
 Soft-tinkling down the moss-grown hill. 
 Whilst through the west, where sinks the crimson day. 
 Meek Twilight slowly sails, and waves her banners gray. 
 
 Say, from Affliction's various source 
 Do none but turbid waters flow ?
 
 MASON.] ODE ON MELANCHOLY. 185 
 
 And cannot Fancy clear their course? 
 
 For Fancy is the friend of wo. 
 
 Say, 'mid that grove, in love-lorn state. 
 
 When yon poor ringdove mourns her mate. 
 
 Is all that meets the shepherd's ear. 
 
 Inspired by anguish, and despair ? 
 
 Ah no, fair Fancy rules the song : 
 
 She swells her throat ; she guides her tongue; 
 
 She bids the waving aspen-spray 
 
 Quiver in cadence to her lay ; 
 
 She bids the fringed osiers bow. 
 
 And rustle round the lake below. 
 To suit the tenor of her gurgling sighs. 
 And sooth her throbbing breast with solemn sympathies. 
 
 To thee, whose young and polish'd brow 
 The wrinkling hand of Sorrow spares; 
 Whose cheeks, bestrew'd with roses, know 
 No channel for the tide of tears ; 
 To thee yon abbey dank, and lone. 
 Where ivy chains each mould'ring stone 
 That nods o'er many a martyr's tomb. 
 May cast a formidable gloom. 
 Yet some there are, who, free from fear. 
 Could wander through the cloisters drear. 
 Could rove each desolated isle. 
 Though midnight thunders shook the pile ;
 
 186^ ODE ON MfLANCMOLY. [mASON. 
 
 And dauntless view, or seem to view, 
 
 (As faintly flash the lightnings blue) 
 Thin shivering ghosts from yawning charnels throng. 
 And glance with silent sweep the shaggy vaults along. 
 
 But such terrific charms as these, 
 
 I ask not yet : my sober mind 
 
 The fainter forms of sadness please ; 
 
 My sorrows are of softer kind. 
 
 Through this still valley let me stray. 
 
 Wrapt in some strain of pensive Gray : 
 
 Whose lofty genius bears along 
 
 The conscious dignity of song ; 
 
 And, scorning from the sacred store 
 
 To waste a note on Pride, or Power, 
 
 Roves, when the glimmering twilight glooms. 
 
 And warbles 'mid the rustic tombs : 
 
 He too perchance, (for well I know 
 
 His heart would melt with friendly wo) 
 He too perchance, when these poor limbs are laid. 
 Will heave one tuneful sigh, and sooth my hov'ring 
 shade.
 
 ODE TO FANCY. 
 
 [j. WARTON.] 
 
 O Parent of each lovely Muse ! 
 Thy spirit o'er my soul diffuse ; 
 O'er all my artless songs preside. 
 My footsteps to thy temple guide j 
 To offer at thy turf-built shrine. 
 In golden cups no costly wine ; 
 No murder'd fatling of the flock, 
 But flowers and honey from the rock. 
 O nymph ! with loosely-flowing hair. 
 With buskin'd leg, and bosom bare ; 
 Thy waist with myrtle-girdle bound. 
 Thy brows with Indian feathers crown*d ; 
 Waving in thy snowy hand 
 An all-commanding magic wand ; 
 Of power to bid fresh gardens blow 
 *Mid cheerless Lapland's barren snow ; 
 Whose rapid wings thy flight convey. 
 Through air, and over earth and sea : 
 While the vast, various landscape lies 
 Conspicuous to thy piercing eyes ;
 
 188 ODE TO FANCY. [j. WARTON- 
 
 O lover of the desert, hail ! 
 Say, in what deep and pathless vale. 
 Or on what hoary mountain's side, 
 'Midst falls of water, you reside ; 
 'Midst broken rocks, a rugged scene. 
 With green and grassy dales between ; 
 'Midst forests dark of aged oak. 
 Ne'er echoing with the woodman's stroke ; 
 Where never human art appear'd. 
 Nor ev'n one straw -roof 'd cot was rear'd j 
 Where Nature seems to sit alone. 
 Majestic on a craggy throne. 
 Tell me the path, sweet wanderer, tell. 
 To thy unknown sequester'd cell ; 
 Where woodbines cluster round the door. 
 Where shells and moss o'erlay the floor ; 
 And on whose top a hawthorn blows. 
 Amid whose thickly-woven boughs 
 Some nightingale still builds her nest. 
 Each evening warbling thee to rest. 
 Then lay me by the haunted stream. 
 Wrapt in some wild, poetic dream ; 
 In converse while methinks I rove 
 ' With Spenser through a fairy grove ; 
 Till suddenly awak'd, I hear 
 Strange whisper'd music in my ear j
 
 J. WARTON.] ODE TO FANCY. 18^ 
 
 And my glad soul in bliss is drown'd. 
 
 By the sweetly-soothing sound ! 
 
 Me, Goddess, by the right hand lead. 
 
 Sometimes through the yellow mead. 
 
 Where Joy, and white-robed Peace resort. 
 
 And Venus keeps her festive court. 
 
 Where Mirth and Youth each evening meet. 
 
 And lightly trip with nimble feet. 
 
 Nodding their lily-crowned heads. 
 
 Where Laughter rose-lip'd Hebe leads ; 
 
 Where Echo walks steep hills among. 
 
 Listening to the shepherd's song : 
 
 Yet not these flowery fields of joy 
 
 Can long my pensive mind employ ; 
 
 Haste, Fancy, from the scenes of folly. 
 
 To meet the matron Melancholy ! 
 
 Goddess of the tearful eye. 
 
 That loves to fold her arms and sigh ; 
 
 Let us with silent footsteps go 
 
 To charnels, and the house of wo ; 
 
 To gothic churches, vaults, and tombs. 
 
 Where each sad night some virgin comes. 
 
 With throbbing breast and faded cheek. 
 
 Her promis'd bridegroom's urn to seek. 
 
 Or to some abbey's mouldering tow'rs, 
 
 Whert*, to avoid cold wintry show'rs.
 
 190 ODE TO TANCV. j. WARTON. 
 
 The naked beggar shivering lies. 
 Whilst whistling tempests round her rise. 
 And trembles lest the tottering wall 
 Should on her sleeping infants fall. 
 Now let us louder strike the lyre. 
 For my heart gl6ws with martial fire; 
 I feel, I feel, with sudden heat. 
 My big tumultuous bosom beat. 
 The trumpet's clangours pierce my ear, 
 A thousand widows' shrieks I hear -z 
 Give me another horse, I cry, 
 Lo, the base GalHc squadrons fly; 
 Whence is this rage ? What spirit, say. 
 To battle hurries me away ? 
 *Tis Fancy, in her fiery car. 
 Transports me to the thickest war ; 
 There whirls me o'er the hills of slain. 
 Where tumult and destruction reign ; 
 Where, mad with pain, the wounded steed 
 Tramples the dying and the dead; 
 Where giant Terror stalks around. 
 With sullen joy surveys the ground. 
 And pointing to th* ensanguin'd field 
 Shakes his dreadful Gorgon-shield. 
 O guide me from this horrid scene 
 To high-arch'd walks, and alleys green.
 
 J. WARTON.] 0^>E TO FAKCY. 191 
 
 Which lovely Laura seeks, to shun 
 
 The fervors of the mid-day sun. 
 
 The pangs of absence, O remove. 
 
 For thou can'st place me near my love ; 
 
 Can'st fold in visionary bliss, 
 
 And let me think I steal a kiss ; 
 
 While her ruby lips dispense 
 
 Luscious nectar's quintessence ! 
 
 When young-ey'd Spring profusely throws 
 
 From her green lap the pink and rose ; 
 
 When the soft turtle of the dale 
 
 To Summer tells her tender tale ; 
 
 When Autumn cooling caverns seeks. 
 
 And stains with wine his jolly cheeks ; 
 
 When Winter, like poor pilgrim old. 
 
 Shakes his silver beard with cold ; 
 
 At every season let my ear 
 
 Thy solemn whispers. Fancy, hear. 
 
 O warm, enthusiastic maid. 
 
 Without thy powerful, vital aid. 
 
 That breathes an energy divine. 
 
 That gives, a soul to every line. 
 
 Ne'er may | strive with lips profane. 
 
 To utter an unhallow'd strain ; 
 
 Nor dare to touch the sacred string. 
 
 Save when with smiles thou bid'st me sing.
 
 192 ODE TO FANCY. [j. WARTON. 
 
 O hear our prayer, O hither come. 
 From thy lamented Shakspeare's tomb. 
 On which thou lov'st to sit at eve. 
 Musing o'er thy darhng's grave : 
 O queen of numbers, once again 
 Animate some chosen swain. 
 Who, fiU'd with inexhausted fire. 
 May boldly smite the sounding lyre ; 
 , " Who, with some new unequali'd song. 
 May 1*186 above the rhyming throng; 
 O'er all our listening passions reign, 
 O'erwhelm our souls with joy and pain : 
 With terror shake, with pity move, 
 Rouse with revenge, or melt with love. 
 Or deign t' attend his evening walk. 
 With him in groves and grottos talk ; 
 Teach him to scorn with frigid art. 
 Feebly to touch th' enraptur'd heart j 
 Like lightning, let his mighty verse 
 The bosom's inmost foldings pierce ; 
 With native beauties win applause. 
 Beyond cold critic's studied laws : 
 O let each Muse's fame increase, 
 O bid Britannia rival Greece !
 
 ODE ON THE SPRING, 
 
 TO A LADY. 
 
 [ibid.] 
 
 Lo ! Spring array'd in primrose-colour'd robe. 
 Fresh beauties sheds on each enUven'd scene. 
 
 With show'rs and sunshine cheers the smiUng globe. 
 And mantles hill and vale in glowing green. 
 
 All nature feels her vital heat around, ^ 
 
 Tlie pregnant glebe now bursts with foodful grain. 
 
 With kindly warmth she opes the frozen ground. 
 And with new life informs the teeming plain. 
 
 She calls the fishes from their oozy beds. 
 And animates the deep with genial love, 
 
 She bids the herds bound sportive o'er the mead. 
 And with glad songs awakes the joyous grove. 
 
 No more the glaring tiger roams for prey. 
 All-powerful Love subdues his savage soul. 
 
 To find his spotted mate he darts away. 
 
 While gentler thoughts the thirst of blood control.
 
 194 ODE ON THE SPRING. [j. WARTON. 
 
 But ah ! while all is warmth and soft desire. 
 
 While all around Spring's cheerful influence own. 
 
 You feel not, Amoret, her quickening fire. 
 To Spring's kind heat, of all a foe alone. 
 
 ODE TO EVENING. 
 
 [ibid.] 
 
 Hail meek-ey'd maiden, clad in sober gray. 
 Whose soft approach the weary woodman loves. 
 
 As homeward bent to kiss his prattling babes. 
 Jocund he whistles through the twilight groves. 
 
 When Phoebus sinks behind the gilded hills. 
 You lightly o'er the misty meadows walk ; 
 
 The drooping daisies bathe in honey dews. 
 And nurse the nodding violet's slender stalk. 
 
 The panting dryads, that in day's fierce heat. 
 To inmost bowers, and cooling caverns ran. 
 
 Return to trip in wanton evening-dance ; 
 Old Silvan too returns, and laughing Pan.
 
 J. WARTON.] ODE TO EVENING. 195 
 
 To the deep wood the clamorous rooks repair. 
 Light skims the swallow o'er the watery scene ; 
 
 And from the sheep-cote, and fresh-furrow*d field. 
 Stout ploughmen meet, to wrestle on the Green. 
 
 The swain, that artless sings on yonder rock. 
 
 His supping sheep, and lengthening shadow spies ; 
 
 Pleas'd with the cool, the calm, refreshful hour. 
 And with hoarse humming of unnumber'd flies. 
 
 Now every passion sleeps : desponding Love, 
 
 And pining Envy, ever-restless pride ; 
 An holy calm creeps o'er my peaceful soul. 
 
 Anger, and mad Ambition's storms subside. 
 
 O modest Evening ! oft let me appear 
 
 A wandering votary in thy pensive train ; 
 
 Listening to every wildly-warbling throat 
 
 That fills with farewell sweet thy darkening plain. 
 
 k3
 
 THE HAMLET. 
 
 WRITTEN IN WHICHWOOD FOEEST. 
 [t. WARTON.] 
 
 The hinds how blest, who ne'er beguil'd 
 To quit their hamlet's hawthorn wild. 
 Nor haunt the crowd, nor tempt the main. 
 For splendid care, and guilty gain ! 
 When morning's tvvilight-tinctur'd beam 
 Strikes their low thatch with slanting gleam. 
 They rove abroad in ether blue. 
 To dip the scythe in fragrant dew ; 
 The sheaf to bind, the beech to fell. 
 That nodding shades a craggy dell. 
 
 Midst gloomy glades, in warbles clear. 
 Wild nature's sweetest notes they hear : 
 On green untrodden banks they view 
 The hyacinth's neglected hue : 
 In their lone haunts, and woodland rounds. 
 They spy the squirrel's airy bounds :
 
 T. WABTON.] THE HAMLET. 19^ 
 
 And startle from her ashen spray. 
 Across the glen, the screaming jay : 
 Each native charm their steps explore 
 Of Solitude's sequester'd store. 
 
 For them the moon with cloudless ray 
 Mounts, to illume their homeward way: 
 Their weary spirits to relieve. 
 The meadows incense breathe at eve. 
 No riot mars the simple fare. 
 That o'er a glimmering hearth they share : 
 But when the curfeu*s measur'd roar 
 Duly, the darkening vallies o*er. 
 Has echoed from the distant town. 
 They wish no beds of cygnet-down. 
 No trophied canopies, to close 
 Their drooping eyes in quick repose. 
 
 Their little sons, who spread the bloom 
 Of health around the clay -built room. 
 Or through the primros'd coppice stray, " 
 
 Or gambol in the new-mown hay j 
 Or quaintly braid the cowslip-twine. 
 Or drive afield the tardy kine ; 
 Or hasten from the sultry hill. 
 To loiter at the shady rill ;
 
 19$ THE surciDB. [t. wabton* 
 
 Or climb the tall pine's gloomy crest. 
 To rob the raven's ancient nest. 
 
 Their humble porch with honied flowers 
 The curling woodbine's shade embowers : 
 From the small garden's thymy mound 
 Their bees in busy swarms resound : 
 Nor fell Disease, before his time. 
 Hastes to consume life's golden prime : 
 But when their temples long have wore 
 The silver crown of tresses hoar ; 
 As studious still calm peace to keep. 
 Beneath a flowery turf they sleep. 
 
 THE SUICIDE. 
 
 [ibid.] 
 
 Beneath the beech, whose branches bare, 
 Smit with the lightning's livid glare, 
 
 O'erhang the craggy road. 
 And whistle hollow as they wave ; 
 Within a solitary grave, 
 A Slayer of himself holds his accurs'd abode.
 
 T. WARTON.3 THE SUICIDE. ' 199 
 
 Lour'd the grim morn, in murky dyes 
 Damp mists involv'd the scowling skies. 
 
 And dim'd the struggUng day ; 
 As by the brook, that lingering laves 
 Yon rush-grown moor with sable waves. 
 Full of the dark resolve he took his sullen way. 
 
 I marked his desultory pace. 
 
 His gestures strange, and varying face. 
 
 With many a mutter'd sound; 
 And ah ! too late aghast I view'd 
 The reeking blade, the hand embrued ; 
 He fell, and groaning grasp'd in agony the ground. 
 
 Full many a melancholy night ^ 
 He watch'd the slow return of light ; 
 
 And sought the powers of sleep. 
 To spread a momentary calm 
 O'er his sad couch, and in the balm 
 Of bland oblivion's dews his burning eyes to steep. 
 
 Full oft, unknowing and unknown. 
 He wore his endless noons alone. 
 
 Amid th' autumnal wood : 
 Oft was he wont, in hasty fit. 
 Abrupt the social board to quit. 
 And gaze with eager glance upon the tumbling flood.
 
 SOO THE SUICIDE. [T. WARTON'. 
 
 Beckoning the wretch to torments new. 
 Despair, for ever in his view, 
 A spectre pale, appear'd ; 
 While^ as the shades of eve arose. 
 And brought the day's unwelcome close. 
 More horrible and huge her giant shape she rear'd. 
 
 ' Is this,' mistaken Scorn will cry, 
 ' Is this the youth whose genius high 
 
 Could build the genuine rhyme ? 
 Whose bosom mild the favouring Muse 
 Had stor'd with all her ample views. 
 Parent of fairest deeds, and purposes sublime/ 
 
 Ah ! from the Muse that bosom mild 
 By treacherous magic was beguil'd. 
 
 To strike the deathful blow : 
 She fiU'd his soft ingenuous mind 
 With many a feeling too refin'd. 
 And rous'd to livelier pangs his wakeful sense of wo. 
 
 Though doom'd hard penury to prove. 
 And the sharp stings of hopeless love : 
 
 To griefs congenial prone. 
 More wounds than nature gave lie knew. 
 While misery's form his fancy drew 
 In dark ideal hues, and horrors not its own.
 
 T. WARTON.] THE SUICIDE. 201 
 
 Then wish not o'er his earthy tomb 
 The baleful nightshade's lurid bloom 
 
 To drop its deadly dew : 
 Nor oh ! forbid the twisted thorn. 
 That rudely binds his turf forlorn. 
 With Spring's green -swelling buds to vegetate anew. 
 
 What though no marble-piled bust 
 Adorn his desolated dust. 
 
 With speaking sculpture wrought ? 
 Pity shall woo the weeping Nine, 
 To build a visionary shrine. 
 Hung with unfading flowers, from fairy regions brought. 
 
 What though refus'd each chaunted rite ? 
 Here viewless mourners shall delight 
 
 To touch the shadowy shell : 
 And Petrarch's harp, that wept the doom 
 Of Laura, lost in early bloom. 
 In meyiy a pensive pause shall seem to ring his knell. 
 
 To sooth a lone, unhallow'd ^hade. 
 This votive dirge sad duty paid. 
 
 Within an ivied nook : 
 Suddeo the half-sunk orb of day 
 More radiant shot its parting ray. 
 And thus a cherub-voice my charm'd attention took : 
 K 3
 
 S08 THESUICIDB. [t. WARTON. 
 
 ' Forbear, fond bard, thy partial praise ; 
 Nor thus for guilt in specious lays 
 
 The wreath of glory twine : 
 In vain with hues of gorgeous glow 
 Gay Fancy gives her vest to flow. 
 Unless Truth's matron-hand the floating folds confine. 
 
 ' Just Heaven, man's fortitude to prove. 
 Permits through life at large to rove 
 
 The tribes of hell-born Wo : 
 Yet the same power that wisely sends 
 Life's fiercest ills, indulgent lends 
 Religion's golden shield to break th' embattled foe. 
 
 * Her aid divine had lull'd to rest 
 
 Yon foul self-murd'rer's throbbing breast. 
 
 And stay'd the rising storm ; 
 Had bade the sun of hope appear 
 To gild his darken'd hemisphere. 
 And give the wonted bloom to nature's blasted form. 
 
 * Vain man ! 'tis Heaven's prerogative 
 To take, what first it deign'd to give. 
 
 Thy tributary breath : 
 In awful expectation plac'd. 
 Await thy doom, nor impious haste 
 Topluckfrora God's right hand his instruments of death.'
 
 THE HRST OF APRIL. 
 
 [ibid.] 
 
 Vv iTH dalliance rude young Zephyr woos 
 Coy May : full oft with kind excuse 
 The boisterous boy the Fair denies. 
 Or with a scornful smile complies. 
 Mindful of disaster past. 
 And shrinking at the northern blast. 
 The sleety storm returning still. 
 The morning hoar, and evening chill. 
 Reluctant comes the timid Spring. 
 Scarce a bee, with airy ring. 
 Murmurs the blossom'd boughs around. 
 That clothe the garden's southern bound ; 
 Scarce a sickly straggling flower 
 Decks the rough castle's rifted tower : 
 Scarce the hardy primrose peeps 
 From the dark dell's entangled steeps : 
 O'er the field of waving broom 
 Slowly shoots the golden bloom : 
 And, but by fits, the furze -clad dale 
 Tinctures the transitory gale.
 
 30# THE FIRST OF APRIL. [t. WARTON. 
 
 While from the shrubbery's naked maze. 
 Where the vegetable blaze 
 Of Flora's brightest 'broidery shone, 
 Every chequer'd charm is flown ; 
 Save that the lilac hangs to view 
 Itsburstiog gems in clusters blue. 
 
 Scant along the ridgy land 
 The beans their new-born ranks expand : 
 The fresh-turn'd soil with tender blades 
 Thinly the sprouting barley shades ; 
 Fringing the forest's devious edge. 
 Half robed appears the hawthorn hedge ; 
 Or to the distant eye displays 
 Weakly green its budding sprays. 
 
 The swallow, for a moment seen. 
 Skims in haste the village green : 
 From the gray moor, on feeble wing. 
 The screaming plovers idly spring : 
 The butterfly, gay painted, soon 
 Explores awhile the tepid noon ; 
 And fondly trusts its tender dyes 
 To fickle suns, and flattering skies. 
 
 Fraught with a transient, frozen shower. 
 If a cloud should haply lower.
 
 T. WARTON.3 THE FIRST OF APRIL. 305 
 
 Sailing o'er the landscape dark. 
 Mute on a sudden is the lark ; 
 But when gleams the sun again 
 O'er the pearl-besprinkled plain. 
 And from behind his watery vail 
 Looks through the thin descending hail. 
 She mounts, and, lessening to the sight. 
 Salutes the blithe return of light. 
 And high her tuneful track pursues 
 'Mid the dim rainbow's scatter'd hues. 
 
 Where in venerable rows 
 Widely-waving oaks inclose 
 The moat of yonder antique hall. 
 Swarm the rooks with clamorous call ; 
 And, to the toils of nature true. 
 Wreathe their capacious nests anew. 
 
 Musing through the lawny park. 
 The lonely poet loves to mark 
 How various greens in faint degrees 
 Tinge the tall groups of various trees ; 
 While, careless of the changing year. 
 The pine cerulean, never sere. 
 Towers distinguish'd from the rest. 
 And proudly vaunts her winter vest.
 
 fKf6 THE FIRST OF APRIL. [t. WARTON. 
 
 Within some whispering osier isle. 
 Where Glym's low banks neglected smile. 
 And each trim meadow still retains 
 The wintry torrent's oozy stains. 
 Beneath a willow, long forsook. 
 The fisher seeks his custom'd nook ; 
 And bursting through the crackling sedge. 
 That crowns the current's cavern'd edge. 
 He startles from the bordering wood 
 The bashful wild-duck's early brood. 
 
 O'er the broad downs, a novel race. 
 Frisk the lambs with faltering pace. 
 And with eager bleatings fill 
 The foss that skirts the beacon'd hill. 
 
 His free-born vigour yet unbroke 
 To lordly man's usurping yoke. 
 The bounding colt forgets to play. 
 Basking beneath the noon-tide ray. 
 And stretch'd among the daisies pied 
 Of a green dingle's sloping side : . 
 While far beneath, where nature spreads 
 Her boundless length of level meads. 
 In loose luxuriance taught to stray, 
 A thousand tumbling rills inlay
 
 T. WARTON.] ODE ON THE APPROACH OF SUMMER. 207 
 
 With silver veins thfe vale, or pass 
 Redundant through the sparkling grass. 
 
 Yet, in these presages rude. 
 Midst her pensive solitude. 
 Fancy, with prophetic glance. 
 Sees the teeming months advance ; 
 The field, the forest, green and gay. 
 The dappled slope, the tedded hay ; 
 Sees the reddening orchard blow. 
 The harvest wave, the vintage flow ; 
 Sees June unfold his glossy robe 
 Of thousand hues o'er all the globe ; 
 Sees Ceres grasp her crown of corn. 
 And Plenty load her ample horn. 
 
 ODE ON THE APPROACH OF SUMMER. 
 
 [ibid.] 
 
 Hence, iron-sceptred Winter, haste 
 
 To bleak Siberian waste ! 
 Haste to thy polar solitude. 
 
 Mid cataracts of ice. 
 Whose torrents dumb are stretch'd in fragments 
 rude. 
 
 From many an airy precipice.
 
 20S ODE ON THE APPROACH OF SUMMER. [t. WARTON. 
 
 Where, ever beat by sleety showers. 
 Thy gloomy gothic castle towers ; 
 Amid whose howling aisles and halls. 
 Where no gay sun-beam paints the walls. 
 On ebon throne thou lov'st to shroud 
 Thy brows in many a murky cloud. 
 
 Ev'n now, before the vernal heat. 
 Sullen I see thy train retreat : 
 Thy ruthless host stern Eurus guides. 
 That on a ravenous tiger rides, 
 Dim-figur'd on whose robe are shewn 
 Shipwrecks, and villages o'erthrown : 
 Grim Auster, dropping all with dew. 
 In mantle clad of watchet hue : 
 And Cold, like Zemblan savage seen. 
 Still threatening with his arrows keen; 
 And next, in furry coat emboss'd 
 With icicles, his brother Frost. 
 
 Winter, farewell ! thy forests hoar. 
 Thy frozen floods, delight no more : 
 Farewell the fields, so bare and wild ! 
 But come thou rose-cheek'd cherub mild. 
 Sweetest Summer ! haste thee here. 
 Once more to crown the gladden'd year.
 
 T. WARTON.] ODE ON THE APPROACH OF SUMMER. 209 
 
 Thee April blithe, as long of yore, 
 Bermudas' lawns he frolicked o'er. 
 With musky nectar-lrickling wing, 
 (In the new world's first dawning spring,) 
 To gather balm of choicest dews. 
 And patterns fair of various hues. 
 With which to paint, in changeful dye. 
 The youthful earth's embroidery ; 
 To cull the essence of rich smells 
 In which to dip his new-born bells ; 
 Thee, as he skim'd with pinions fleet. 
 He found an infant, smiling sweet. 
 Where a tall citron's shade imbrown'd 
 The soft lap of the fragrant ground. 
 There on an amaranthine bed. 
 Thee with rare nectarine fruits he fed j 
 Till soon beneath his forming care. 
 You bloom'd a goddess debonair j 
 And then he gave the blessed isle 
 Aye to be sway'd beneath thy smile : 
 There plac'd thy green and grassy shrine. 
 With myrtle bower'd and jessamine : 
 And to thy care the task assign'd 
 With quickening hand, and nurture kind. 
 His roseate infant-births to rear. 
 Till Autumn's mellowing reign appear.
 
 210 ODE ON THE APPROACH OF SUMMEB. [t. WARTON, 
 
 Haste thee, nymph ! and hand in hand. 
 With thee lead a buxom band j 
 Bring fantastic-footed Joy, 
 With Sport, that yellow-tressed boy : 
 Leisure, that through the balmy sky 
 Chases a crimson butterfly. 
 Bring Health, that loves in early dawn 
 To meet the milk-maid on the lawn ; 
 Bring Pleasure, rural nymph, and Peace, 
 Meek, cottage-loving shepherdess ! 
 And that sweet striphng Zephyr, bring. 
 Light, and for ever on the wing. 
 Bring the dear Muse, that loves to lean 
 On river-margins, mossy green. 
 But who is she, that bears thy train. 
 Pacing Ught the velvet plain ? 
 The pale pink binds her auburn hair. 
 Her tresses flow with pastoral air ; 
 'Tis May, the Grace confest she stands. 
 By branch of hawthorn in her hands : 
 Lo ! near her trip the lightsome Dews, 
 Their wings all ting'd in iris hues ; 
 With whom the powers of Flora play. 
 And paint with pansies all the way. 
 
 Oft when thy season, sweetest Queen, 
 Has dress'd the groves in livery green j
 
 T. WARTON.] ODE ON THE APPROACH OF SUMMER. 211 
 
 When in each fair and fertile field 
 Beauty begins her bow'r to build ; 
 While Evening, veil'd in shadows brown. 
 Puts her matron -mantle on. 
 And mists in spreading steams convey 
 More fresh the fumes of netl-shom hay j 
 Then, Goddess, guide my pilgrim feet 
 Contemplation hoar to meet. 
 As slow he winds in museful mood. 
 Near the rush'd marge of CherwelVs flood j 
 Or o'er old Avon's magic edge. 
 Whence Shakspeare cull'd the spiky sedge, 
 All playful yet, in years unripe. 
 To frame a shrill and simple pipe. 
 There through the dusk but dimly seen. 
 Sweet evening objects intervene: 
 His wattled cotes the shepherd plants. 
 Beneath her elm the milk-maid chants. 
 The woodman, speeding home, awhile 
 Rests him at a shady stile. >' ^i-t 
 Nor wants there fragrance to dispielns^ 
 Refreshment o'er my soothed sense ; 
 Nor tangled woodbines' balmy bloom. 
 Nor grass besprent to breathe perfume : 
 Nor lurking wild-thyme's spicy sweet 
 To bathe in dew my roving feet :
 
 212 ODE ON THE APPROACH OF SUMMER. [t. WARTON* 
 
 Nor wants there note of Philomel, 
 Nor sound of distant tinkling bell ; 
 Nor lowings faint of herds remote. 
 Nor mastiff's bark from bosom'd cot : 
 Rustle the breezes ^jghtly borne 
 O'er deep embattled ears of corn. 
 Round ancient elm, with humming noise. 
 Full loud the chaffer-swarms rejoice. 
 Meantime, a thousand dyes invest 
 The ruby chambers of the West ! 
 That all aslant the village toVr 
 A mild reflected radiance pour. 
 While, with the level-streaming rays 
 Far seen its arched windows blaze : 
 And the tall grove's green top is dight 
 In russet tints, and gleams of light : 
 So that the gay scene by degrees < 
 
 Bathes my blithe heart in ecstasies j 
 And Fancy to my ravish'd sight 
 Portrays her kindred visions bright. 
 At length the parting light subdues 
 My soften'd soul to calmer views. 
 And fainter shapes of pensive joy. 
 As twilight dawns my mind employ. 
 Till from the path I fondly stray 
 In musings lap'd, nor heed the way ;
 
 T. WARTON.] ODE ON THE APPROACH OF SUMMER. 213 
 
 Wandering through the landscape still. 
 Till Melancholy has her fill. 
 And on each moss-wove border damp 
 The glow-worm hangs his fairy lamp. 
 
 But when the Sun, at noon-tide hour. 
 Sits throned in his highest tow'r ; 
 Me, heart-rejoicing Goddess, lead 
 To the tan'd haycock in the mead : 
 To mix in rural mood among 
 The nymphs and swains, a busy throng ; 
 Or, as the tepid odours breathe. 
 The russet piles to lean beneath : 
 There as my listless limbs are thrown 
 On couch more soft than palace down ; 
 I listen to the busy sound 
 Of mirth and toil, that hums around ; 
 And see the team shrill-tinkling pass. 
 Alternate o'er the furrow'd grass. 
 
 But ever, after summer-showV, 
 When the bright sun's returning pow'r. 
 With laughing beam has chas'd the storm. 
 And cheer'd reviving Nature's form ; 
 By sweet-brier hedges, bath'd in dew. 
 Let me my wholesome path pursue ;
 
 214 .ODE ON THE APPROACH OF SUMMER, [t. WARTON. 
 
 There issuing^ forth, the frequent snail 
 Wears the dank way with slimy trail, 
 While, as I walk, from pearled bush 
 The sunny-sparkling drop I brush ; 
 And all the landscape fair I view 
 Clad in robe of fresher hue : 
 And so loud the blackbird sings. 
 That far and near the valley rings. 
 From shelter deep of shaggy rock 
 The shepherd drives his joyful flock ; 
 From bowering beech the mower blithe 
 With new-born vigour grasps the scythe ; 
 While o'er the smooth unbounded meads 
 His last faint gleam the rainbow spreads. 
 
 But ever against restless heat. 
 Bear me to the rock-arch'd seat. 
 O'er whose dim mouth an ivied oak. 
 Hangs nodding from the low-brow'd rock ; 
 Haunted by that chaste nymph alone. 
 Whose waters cleave the smoothed stone ; 
 Which, as they gush upon the ground. 
 Still scatter misty dews around : 
 A rustic, wild, grotesque alcove. 
 Its side with mantling woodbines wove ; 
 Cool as the cave where Clio dwells. 
 Whence Helicon's fresh fountain wells :
 
 T. WARTON.] ODE ON THE APPROACH OF SUMMER. 215 
 
 Or noon-tide grot where Silvan sleeps 
 On hoar Lycaeum's piny steeps. 
 
 Me, Goddess, in such cavern lay. 
 While all without is scorch'd in day : 
 Sore sighs the weary swain beneath 
 His withering hawthorn on the heath ; 
 The drooping hedger wishes eve. 
 In vain, of labour short reprieve ! 
 Meantime, on Afric*s glowing sands. 
 Smote with keen heat, the traveller stands ; 
 Low sinks his heart, while round his eye 
 Measures the scenes that boundless lie. 
 Ne'er yet by foot of mortal worn. 
 Where Thirst, wan pilgrim, walks forlorn. 
 How does he wish some cooling wave 
 To slake his lips, or limbs to lave ! 
 And thinks, in every whisper low. 
 He hears a bursting fountain flow. 
 
 Or bear me to yon antique wood. 
 Dim temple of sage Solitude ! 
 There within a nook inost dark. 
 Where none my musing mood may mark. 
 Let me in many a whisper'd rite 
 The genius old of Greece invite.
 
 216 ODE ON THE APPROACH OF SCMMER. [t. WARTON- 
 
 With that fair wreath my brows to bind. 
 
 Which for his chosen imps he twin'd. 
 
 Well nurtur'd in Pierian lore. 
 
 On clear lUissus* laureate shore. 
 
 Till high on waving nest reclin'd. 
 
 The raven wakes my tranced mind ! 
 
 Or to the forest-fringed vale. 
 
 Where widow'd turtles love to wail. 
 
 Where cowslips, clad in mantle meek. 
 
 Nod their tall heads to breezes weak : 
 
 In the midst, with sedges gray 
 
 Crown'd, a scant rivulet winds its way. 
 
 And trembling through the weedy wreaths. 
 
 Around an oo/y freshness breathes. 
 
 O'er the solitary green. 
 
 Nor cot, nor loitering hind is seen ; 
 
 Nor aught alarms the mute repose. 
 
 Save that by fits an heifer lows : 
 
 A scene might tempt some peaceful sage 
 
 To rear him a lone hermitage ; 
 
 Fit place his pensive eld might choose. 
 
 On virtue's holy lore to muse. 
 
 Yet still the sultry noon t' appease. 
 Some more romantic scene might please ; 
 Or fairy bank, or magic lawn. 
 By Spenser's lavish pencil drawn :
 
 T. WARTON.] ODE ON THE APPROACH OF SUMMER. 217 
 
 Or bow'r in Vallombrosa's shade. 
 
 By legendary pens portray'd. 
 
 Haste, let me shroud from painful light. 
 
 On that hoar hill's aerial height. 
 
 In solemn state, where waving wide. 
 
 Thick pines with darkening umbrage hide 
 
 The rugged vaults, and riven towers 
 
 Of that proud castle's painted bowers. 
 
 Whence Hardyknute, a baron bold. 
 
 In Scotland's martial days of old. 
 
 Descended from the stately feast. 
 
 Begirt with many a warrior guest. 
 
 To quell the pride of Norway's king. 
 
 With quivering lance and twanging string. 
 
 As through the caverns dim I wind. 
 
 Might I that holy legend find. 
 
 By fairies spelt in mystic rhymes. 
 
 To teach enquiring later times. 
 
 What open force, or secret guile, 
 
 Dash'd into dust the solemn pile. 
 
 But when mild Morn in saffron stole. 
 First issues from her easterii goal. 
 Let not my due feet fail to climb 
 Some breezy summit's brow sublime. 
 Whence Nature's universal face 
 lUumin'd smiles with new-born grace; 
 
 VOL. I. 1
 
 218 ODE ON THE APPROACH OF SUMMER. [t. WARTON. 
 
 The misty streams that wind below. 
 With silver-spangling lustre glow ; 
 The gloves and castled cliffs appear 
 Invested all in radiance clear ; 
 O ! every village charm beneath ! 
 The smoke that mounts in azure wreath ! 
 O beauteous, rural interchange ! 
 The simple spire, and elmy grange ! 
 Content, indulging blissful hours. 
 Whistles o'er the fragrant flowers. 
 And cattle, rous'd to pasture new. 
 Shake jocvuid from their sides the dew. 
 
 *Tis thou, alone, O Summer mild. 
 Canst bid me carol wood-notes wild : 
 Whene'er I view thy genial scenes. 
 Thy waving woods, embroider'd greens. 
 What fires within my bosom wake. 
 How glows my mind the reed to take ! 
 What charms like thine the muse can call. 
 With whom 'tis youth and laughter all ! 
 With whom each field's a paradise. 
 And all the globe a bower of bliss ! 
 With thee conversing, all the day, 
 
 I meditate my lightsome lay. 
 
 These pedant cloisters let me leave. 
 To breathe my votive song at eve.
 
 T. WARTON,] ODE ON THE APPROACH OF SUMMER. 219 
 
 In vallies, where mild whispers use 
 Of shade and stream, to court the muse ; 
 While wandering o'fer the brook's dim verge, 
 I hear the stock-dove's dying dirge. 
 
 But when life's busier scene is o'er. 
 And Age shall give the tresses hoar, 
 I'd fly soft Luxury's marble dome. 
 And make an humble thatch my home. 
 Which sloping hills around inclose. 
 Where many a beech and brown oak grows ; 
 Beneath whose dark and branching bowers 
 Its tides a far-fam'd river pours : 
 By Nature's beauties taught to please. 
 Sweet Tusculane of rural ease ! 
 Still grot of Peace! in lowly shed 
 Who loves to rest her gentle head. 
 For not the scenes of Attic art 
 Can comfort care, or sooth the heart : 
 Nor burning cheek, nor wakeful eye. 
 For gold and Tyrian purple fly. 
 
 Thither, kind Heav'n, in pity lent. 
 
 Send me a little, and content ; 
 
 The faithful friend, and cheerful night. 
 
 The social scene of dear delight : 
 
 The conscience pure, the temper gay, 
 
 The musing eve, and idle day. 
 1.2
 
 220 ODE ON THE APPROACH OP SUMMER, [t. >YART0N. 
 
 Give me beneath cool shades to sit. 
 Rapt with the charms of classic wit ; 
 To catch the bold heroic flame, 
 That built immortal Graecia's fame. 
 Nor let me fail, meantime, to raise 
 The solemn song to Britain's praise : 
 To spurn the shepherd's simple reeds. 
 And paint heroic ancient deeds : 
 To chant fam'd Arthur's magic tale. 
 And Edward, stern in sable mail ; 
 Or wandering Brutus' lawless doom. 
 Or brave Bonduca, scourge of Rome. 
 
 O ever to sweet Poesy # 
 
 Let me live true votary ! 
 She shall lead me by the hand. 
 Queen of sweet smiles, and solace bland ! 
 She from her precious stores shall shed 
 Ambrosial flowerets o'er my head : 
 She, from my tender youthful cheek. 
 Can wipe, with lenient finger meek. 
 The secret and unpitied tear, 
 . Which still I drop in darkness drear. 
 She shall be my blooming bride ; 
 With her, as years successive glide, 
 I'll hold divinest dalliance. 
 For ever held in holy trance.
 
 ODE ON THE SPRING. 
 
 [gray.] 
 
 JLo ! where the rosy-bosom'd Hours, 
 
 Fair Venus* train, appear. 
 Disclose the long-expected flowers. 
 
 And wake the purple year ! 
 The Attic warbler pours her throat. 
 Responsive to the cuckoo's note. 
 
 The untaught harmony of Spring : 
 While, whispering pleasure as they fly. 
 Cool Zephyrs through the clear blue sky 
 
 Their gather'd fragrance fling. 
 
 Where'er the oak's thick branches stretch 
 
 A broader browner shade. 
 Where'er the rude and moss-grown beech 
 
 O'er-canopies the glade. 
 Beside some water's rushy brink 
 With me the Muse shall sit, and think 
 
 (At ease reclin'd in rustic state) 
 How vain the ardour of the crowd. 
 How low, how little are the proud. 
 
 How indigent the Great !
 
 222 ODE ON THE SPRINC. [cRAY. 
 
 Still is the toiling hand of Care ; 
 
 Tlie panting herds repose : 
 Yet hark, how through the peopled air 
 
 The busy murmur glows ! 
 The insect youth are on the wing. 
 Eager to taste the honied spring. 
 
 And float amid the liquid noon : 
 Some lightly o'er the current skim. 
 Some shew their gaily-gilded trim 
 
 Quick-glancing to the sun. 
 
 To Contemplation's sober eye 
 
 Such is the race of Man : 
 And they that creep, and they that fly. 
 
 Shall end where they began. 
 Alike the Busy and the Gay 
 But flutter through life's little day. 
 
 In Fortune's varying colours drest : 
 Brush'd by the hand of rough mischance. 
 Or chill'd by age, their airy dance 
 
 They leave, in dust to rest. 
 
 Methinks I hear, in accents low. 
 
 The sportive kind reply : 
 Poor Moralist ! and what art thou ? 
 
 A solitary fly !
 
 OUAY.] ON THE DEATH OF A FAVOUBITE CAT. 223 
 
 Thy joys no glitt'ring female meets. 
 No hive hast thou of hoarded sweets. 
 
 No painted plumage to display : 
 On hasty wings thy youth is flown ; 
 Thy sun is set, thy spring is gone 
 
 We frolic while 'tis May. 
 
 ON THE 
 DEATH OF A FAVOURITE CAT, 
 
 Drowned in a Tub of Gold Fishes. 
 [ibid.] 
 
 TwAS on a lofty vase's side. 
 Where China's gayest art had dy'd 
 
 The azure flowers, that blow ; 
 Demurest of the tabby kind. 
 The pensive Selima, reclin'd, 
 
 Gaz'd on the lake below. 
 
 Her conscious tail her joy declared; 
 The fair round face, the snowy beard. 
 
 The velvet of her paws. 
 Her coat, that with the tortoise vies. 
 Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes. 
 
 She saw ; and purr*d applause.
 
 S24 ON THE DEATH OF A FAVOURITE CAT. [qRAT. 
 
 Still bad she gaz'd; but 'midst the tide 
 Two angel forms were seen to glide. 
 
 The Genii of the stream : 
 Their scaly armour's Tyrian hue 
 Through richest purple to the view 
 
 Betray'd a golden gleam. 
 
 The hapless nymph with wonder saw : 
 A whisker first, and then a claw. 
 
 With many an ardent wish. 
 She stretch'd, in vain, to reach the prize. 
 What female heart can gold despise ? 
 
 What Cat's averse to fish ? 
 
 Presumptuous Maid ! with looks intent 
 Again she stretch'd, again she bent. 
 
 Nor knew the gulph between : 
 (Malignant Fate sat by and smil'd) 
 The slipp'ry verge her feet beguil'd. 
 
 She tumbled headlong in. 
 
 Eight times emerging from the flood. 
 She mew'd to ev'ry wat'ry god. 
 
 Some speedy aid to send. 
 No Dolphin came, no Nereid stir'd : 
 Nor cruel Tom, nor Susan heard. 
 
 A Fav'rite has no friend !
 
 GRAY.] ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF ETON. 225 
 
 From hence, ye Beauties, undeceived. 
 Know one false step is ne*er retriev'd. 
 
 And be with caution bold. 
 Not all that tempts your wand'ring eyes 
 And heedless hearts, is lawful prize j 
 
 Nor all that glitters, gold. 
 
 ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF ETON 
 COLLEGE. 
 
 [ibid.] 
 
 V E distant spires, ye antique towers. 
 
 That crown the wat*ry glade. 
 Where grateful Science still adores 
 
 Her Henry*s holy shade ; 
 And ye, that from the stately brow 
 Of Windsor's heights th* expanse below 
 
 Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey. 
 Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowers among 
 Wanders the hoary Thames along 
 
 His silver-winding way ; 
 
 Ah, happy hills ! ah, pleasing shade ! 
 Ah, fields belov'd in vain !
 
 896 OK A DISTANT PROSPECT OF [gRAY. 
 
 Where once my careless childhood stray*d, 
 
 A stranger yet to pain ! 
 I feel the gales that from ye blow, 
 A momentary bliss bestow. 
 
 As waving fresh their gladsome wing. 
 My weary soul they seem to sooth. 
 And, redolent of joy and youth. 
 
 To breathe a second spring. 
 
 y / i 
 
 l^y. Father Thames, for thou hast seen 
 
 Full many a sprightly race 
 Disporting on thy margent green 
 
 The paths of pleasure trace. 
 Who foremost now delight to cleave 
 With pliant arm thy glassy wave ? 
 
 The captive linnet which enthrall ? 
 What idle progeny succeed 
 To chase the rolling circle's speed. 
 
 Or urge the flying ball ? 
 
 While some on earnest business bent. 
 
 Their murm'ring labours ply 
 'Gainst graver hours, that bring constraint 
 
 To sweeten liberty : 
 Some bold adventurers disdain 
 The limits of their little reign.
 
 CRAT.) ETON COLLEGE. 
 
 And unknown regions dare descry : 
 Still as they run they look behind. 
 They hear a voice in every wind. 
 
 And snatch a fearful joy. 
 
 Gay hope is theirs by fancy fed. 
 
 Less pleasing when possest ; 
 The tear forgot as soon as shed. 
 
 The sunshine of the breast: i/gBfJv-n' 
 Theirs buxom Health, of rosy hue,- 
 Wild Wit, Invention ever-new. 
 
 And lively Cheer, of Vigour bom ; 
 The thoughtless day, the easy night. 
 The spirits pure, the slumbers light. 
 
 That fly th' approach of mom. 
 
 Alas ! regardless of their doom 
 
 The little victims play ! 
 No sense have they of ills to come. 
 
 Nor care beyond to-day : 
 Yet see, how all around 'em wait 
 The Ministers of human fate. 
 
 And black Misfortune's balefiil train ! 
 Ah, shew them where in ambush stand. 
 To seize their prey, the murd'rous band ! 
 
 Ah, tell them they are men ! 
 
 S37
 
 ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF [CRAY, 
 
 These shall the fury Passions tear. 
 
 The vultures of the mind. 
 Disdainful Anger, pallid Fear, 
 
 And Shame that skulks behind ; 
 Or pining Love shall waste their youth. 
 Or Jealousy, with rankling tooth. 
 
 That inly gnaws the secret heart ; 
 And Envy wan, and faded Care, 
 Grim-visag'd comfortless Despair, 
 
 And Sorrow's piercing dart. 
 
 Ambition this shall tempt to rise. 
 
 Then whirl the wretch from high> 
 To bitter Scorn a sacrifice. 
 
 And grinning Infamy. 
 The stings of Falsehood those shall try. 
 And hard Unkindness' alter'd eye. 
 
 That mocks the tear it forc'd to flow ; 
 And keen Remorse, with blood defil'd. 
 And moody Madness laughing wild 
 
 Amid severest wo. 
 
 Lo, in the vale of years beneath 
 
 A grisly troop are seen. 
 The painful family of Death, 
 More hideous than their Queen :
 
 GRAY.] ETON COLLEGE. 329 
 
 This racks the joints, this fires the veins. 
 That every labouring sinew strains. 
 
 Those in the deeper vitals rage : 
 Lo, Poverty, to fill the band. 
 That numbs the soul with icy hand> 
 
 And slow-consuming Age, 
 
 To each his sufferings : all are men, 
 
 Condemn'd alike to groan ; 
 The tender for another's pain, 
 
 Th' unfeeling for his own. 
 Yet, ah ! why should they know their fate. 
 Since sorrow never comes too late. 
 
 And happiness too swiftly flies ? 
 Thought would destroy their paradise. 
 No more ; where ignorance is bliss, 
 
 'Tis folly to be wise. 
 
 ODE TO ADVERSITY. 
 
 [ibid.] 
 
 Daughter of Jovie, relentless power. 
 Thou tamer of the human breast. 
 
 Whose iron scourge and torturing hour 
 The bad affright, afflict the best !
 
 230 ODE TO ADVERSITY. [CBAY, 
 
 Bound in thy adamantine chain, > ^..^ V 
 
 The proud are taught to taste of pain, r^ JrfT 
 And purple tyrants vainly groan 
 With pangs unfelt before, unpitied and alone. 
 
 When first thy sire to send on earth 
 
 Virtue, his darling child, design'd. 
 To thee he gave the heav'nly birth. 
 
 And bade to form her infant mind. 
 Stem rugged nurse ! thy rigid lore v . >.. ^ 
 With patience many a year she borei^n:* '''T- 
 What sorrow was, thou bad'st her know. 
 And from her own she learnt to melt at others' wo. 
 
 Scared at thy frown terrific, fly 
 Self-pleasing Folly's idle brood, 
 ' Wild Laughter, Noise, and thoughtless Joy, 
 And leave us leisure to be good. 
 Light they disperse, and with them go 
 The summer friend, the flattering foe ; 
 By vain Prosperity receiv'd. 
 To her they vow their truth, and are again believ'd. 
 
 Wisdom in sable garb array'd, 
 
 Immers'd in rapturous thought profound. 
 
 And Melancholy, silent maid. 
 
 With leaden eye that loves the ground.
 
 CRAY.] ODE TO ADVERSITY. 231 
 
 Still on thy solemn steps attend : 
 Warm Charity, the general friend, 
 "With Justice, to herself severe. 
 And Pity, dropping soft the sadly-pleasing tear. 
 
 Oh, gently on thy suppliant's head. 
 Dread Goddess, lay thy chast'ning hand \j ^ 
 
 Not in thy Gorgon terrors clad. 
 Nor circled wfth the vengeful hand 
 
 (As by the impious thou art seen) 
 
 With thund'ring voice, and threat' ning mien. 
 
 With screaming Horror's funeral cry. 
 Despair, and fell Disease, and ghastly Poverty. 
 
 Thy form benign, oh Goddess! wejir. 
 
 Thy milder influence impart. 
 Thy philosophic train be there 
 
 To soften, not to wound my heart. 
 The generous spark extinct revive. 
 Teach me to love, and to forgive. 
 Exact my own defects to scan. 
 What others are to feel, and know myself a man.
 
 THE TRIUMPHS OF OWEN. 
 
 from the welch. 
 
 [ibid.] 
 
 Owen's praise demands my song, 
 Owen swift, and Owen strong ; 
 Fairest flower of Roderic's stem, 
 Gwyneth's shield, and Britain's gem. 
 He nor heaps his brooded stores. 
 Nor on all profusely pours j 
 Lord of every regal art. 
 Liberal hand, and open heart. 
 
 Big with hosts of mighty name. 
 Squadrons three against him came j 
 This the force of Eirin hiding. 
 Side by side as proudly riding. 
 On her shadow long and gay 
 Lochlin plows the wat'ry way; 
 There the Norman sails afar 
 Catch the winds, and join the war : 
 Black and huge along they sweep. 
 Burdens of the angry deep.
 
 GRAY,] THE. TRIUMPHS OF OWEN. 333 
 
 Dauntless on his native sands 
 The dragon -son of Mona stands ; 
 In ghtt'ring arms and glory drest. 
 High he rears his ruby crest. 
 There the thund'ring strokes begin. 
 There the press, and there the din ; 
 Talymalfra's rocky shore 
 Echoing to the battle's roar. 
 Check'd by the torrent-tide of blood. 
 Backward Meinai rolls his flood ; 
 While, heap'd his master's feet around. 
 Prostrate warriors gnaw the ground. 
 Where his glowing eye-balls tifm, - 
 Thousand banners round him bum : 
 Where he points his purple spear. 
 Hasty, hasty Rout is there. 
 Marking with indignant eye 
 Fear to stop, and shame to fly. 
 There Confusion, Terror's child. 
 Conflict fierce, and Ruin wild. 
 Agony, that pants for breath, 
 Pespair, and honourable Death.
 
 THE BARD. 
 
 A PINDARIC ODE* 
 
 [ibid.] 
 
 I. 1. 
 
 Ruin seize thee, ruthless King ! 
 ' Confusion on thy banners wait ; 
 ' Though fan'd by Conquest's crimson wing, 
 ' They mock the air with idle state. 
 ' Helm, nor hauberk's twisted mail, 
 ' Nor ev'n thy virtues. Tyrant, shall avail 
 * To save thy secret soul from nightly fears, 
 ' From Cambria's curse, from Cambria's tears !' 
 'Such were the sounds that o'er the crested pride 
 Of the first Edward scatter'd wild dismay. 
 As down the steep of Snowdon's shaggy side 
 He wound with toilsome march his long array. 
 Stout Glo'ster stood aghast in speechless trance : 
 To arms ! cried Mortimer, and couch'd his quivering 
 lance. - 
 
 This Ode is founded on a tradition current in Wales, that 
 Edward the First, when he completed the conquest of that 
 country, ordered all the Bards tliat fell into his hands to be put 
 to death.
 
 GRAY.] , THE BARB. 235 
 
 I. 2. 
 
 On a rock, whose haughty brow 
 Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood. 
 Robed in the sable garb of wo. 
 With haggard eyes the Poet stood ; 
 (Loose his beard, and hoary hair 
 Stream'd, like a meteor, to the troubled air) 
 And with a Master's hand, and Prophet's fire. 
 Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre. 
 ' Hark, how each giant-oak, and desert-cave, 
 ' Sighs to the torrent's awful voice beneath ! 
 
 * O'er thee, oh King ! their hundred arms they wave, 
 ' Revenge on thee in hoarser murmurs breathe ; 
 
 * Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day. 
 
 To high-bom Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay. 
 
 I. 3. 
 
 ' Cold is Cadwallo's tongue, 
 ' That hush'd the stormy main : 
 ' Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed : 
 
 * Mountains, ye mourn in vain 
 '' Modred, whose magic song 
 
 * Made huge Plinlimmon bow his cloud-top'd head. 
 
 * On dreary Arvon's shore* they lie, 
 
 * The shores of Caemarvooshire, opposite the isle of Aoglesey.
 
 836 THE BARD. [CRAY. 
 
 * Smeared with gore, and ghastly pale : 
 
 ' Far, far aloof th' affrighted ravens sail; 
 
 * The famish'd Eagle* screams, and passes by. 
 ' Dear lost companions of my tuneful art, 
 
 * Dear, as the light that visits these sad eyes, 
 
 ' Dear, as the ruddy drops that warm my heart, 
 ' Ye died amidst your dying country's cries 
 ' No more I weep. They do not sleep. 
 ' On yonder cliffs, a grisly band, . 
 
 * I see them sit, they linger yet, 
 ' Avengers of their native land : 
 
 ' With me in dreadful harmony they join, 
 
 ' And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line.* 
 
 11. 1. 
 
 " Weave the warp, and weave the woof, 
 " The winding sheet of Edward's race ; 
 " Give ample room, and verge enough 
 *' The characters of hell to trace. 
 " Mark the year, and mark the night, 
 " When Severn shall re-echo with affright 
 " The shrieks of death, through Berkley's roof that ring, 
 " Shrieks of an agonising King If 
 
 Cambden and others observe, that eagles used annaally to 
 build their aerie among the rocks of Snowdon. 
 t Edward the Second, cruelly butchered in Berkley-Castle.
 
 GRAY.] THE BARD. 237 
 
 " She-wolf of France,* with unrelenting fangs, 
 
 " That tear'st the bowels of thy mangled Mate, 
 
 " From thee be born, who o'er thy country hangs 
 
 " The scourge of Heav'n.f What Terrors round him 
 
 wait ! 
 " Amazement in his van, with Flight combined, 
 " And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude behind. 
 
 II. 2. 
 
 " Mighty Victor, mighty Lord, 
 *' Low on his funeral couch he lies ! j 
 " No pitying heart, no eye, afford 
 " A tear to grace his obsequies. 
 *' Is the sable warrior || fled? 
 *' Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead. 
 " The Swarm, that in thy noon-tide beam were- born ? 
 " Gone to salute the rising Morn. , 
 
 " Fair laughs the Morn, and soft the Zephyr blows, 
 " While proudly riding o'er the azure realm 
 " In gallant trim the gilded vessel goesj 
 /' Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm; ' 
 
 * Isabel of France,- Edward the Second's adulterons queeit. 
 t Triumphs of Edward the Third in France. 
 X Death of that King, abandoned by his children, and even 
 robbed in his last moments by his courtiers and his mistress. 
 II Edward, the Black Prince, dead some time before his father. 
 Magnificence of Richard the Second's reign.
 
 238 THE BARD. [gRAY, 
 
 *' Regardless of the sweeping vvhirlwind's sway, 
 
 " That, hush'd in grim repose, expects his evening prey. 
 
 " Fill high the sparkling bowl, 
 
 ** The rich repast prepare, 
 
 " Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast : 
 
 " Close by the regal chair 
 1^ " Fell Thirst and Famine scowl 
 ^ " A baleful smile upon their baffled Guest.* 
 
 " Heard ye the din of battle bray, 
 
 " Lance to lance, and horse to horse ? 
 
 '' Long years of havockf urge their destin'd course, 
 
 " And thro' the kindred squadrons mow their way. 
 
 " Ye Towers of Julius, London's lasting shame, 
 
 " With many a foul and midnight murder fed, % 
 
 *' Revere his Consort's i| faith, his Father's fame, 
 
 * Richard the Second (as we are told by all the old writers) 
 was starved to death. 
 
 t Ruinous civil wars of York and Lancaster. 
 
 % Henry the Sixth, George Duke of Clarence, Edward the 
 Fifth, Richard Duke of York, &c. believed to be murdered se- 
 cretly in the Tower of London. The oldest part of that struc- 
 ture is vulgarly attributed to Julius Csesar, 
 
 II Margaret of Anjou, a woman of heroic spirit, who struggled 
 hard to save her husband and her crown. 
 
 % Henry the Fifth.
 
 GRAY.] THE BARD. 239 
 
 " And spare the meek Usurper's* holy head. 
 
 " Above, below, the rose of snow,t 
 
 " Twin'd with her blushing foe, we spread : 
 
 " The bristled Boart in infant gore 
 
 " Wallows beneath the thorny shade. 
 
 " Now, Brothers, bending o'er th' accursed loom, 
 
 " Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom. 
 
 III. 1. 
 
 " Edward, lo ! to sudden fate 
 '' (Weave we the woof. The thread is spun.) 
 *' Half of thy he.art(| we consecrate. 
 " (The web is wove. The work is done.)" 
 ' Stay, oh stay ! nor thus forlorn 
 ' Leave me unbless'd, unpitied, here to mourn : 
 ' In yon bright track, that fires the western skies, 
 ' They melt, they vanish from my eyes. 
 ' But oh! what solemn scenes on Snowdon's height 
 * Descending slow their glittering skirts unroll ? 
 
 * Henry the Sixth, very near being canonized. The line of 
 Lancaster had no right of inheritance to tlie crown. 
 
 t The white and red roses, devices of York and Lancaster.- 
 
 X The silver Boar was the badge of Richard the Third. 
 
 II Eleanor of Castile died a few years after the conquest of 
 Wales. The heroic proof she gave of her affection for her Lord 
 is well known. The monuments of his regret, and sorrow for 
 the loss of her, are still to be seen at Northampton, Geddington, 
 Waltham, and other places.
 
 240 THE BARD. [gRAY. 
 
 * Visions of glory, spare my aching sight ! 
 ' Ye unborn Ages, crowd not on my soul ! 
 
 ' No more our long-lost Arthur* we bewail. 
 
 ' All hail, ye genuine Kings.f Britannia's issue, hail ! 
 
 III. 2. 
 
 ' Girt with many a Baron bold 
 ' Sublime their starry fronts they rear ; 
 
 * And gorgeous Dames, and Statesmen old 
 ' In bearded majesty, appear. 
 
 * In the midst a Form divine ! 
 
 ' Her eye proclaims her of the Briton-Line ; 
 ' Her lion-port, I her awe-commanding face, 
 
 * Attempered sweet to virgin-grace. 
 
 ' What strings symphonious tremble in the air, 
 ' What strains of vocal transport round her play ! 
 
 * It was the common belief of the Welch nation, that King 
 Arthur was still alive in Fairy-Land, and should return again to 
 reign over Britain. 
 
 t Both Merlin and Taliessin had prophesied, that the Welch 
 should regain their sovereignty over this island ; which seemed 
 to be accomplished in the house of Tudor. 
 
 t Speed, relating an audience given by Queen Elizabeth to 
 Paul Dzialinski, Ambassador of Poland, says, ' And thus she, 
 lion-like rising, daunted the malapert orator no less with her 
 stately port and majestical dcportnre, than with the tartnesse 
 of her princelie checkes.'
 
 GRAY.] THE BARD. Sil 
 
 ' Hear from the grave, great Taliessin,* hear ; 
 
 ' They breathe a soul to .amimate thy clay. 
 
 ' Bright Rapture calls, and soaring, as she sings, 
 
 ' Waves in the eye of Heav'n her many-icolour'd wii^. 
 
 III. 3. 
 ' The verse adorn again 
 ' Fierce War, and faithful Love, 
 ' And Truth severe, by fairy Tictionf drest. 
 ' In buskin'd measurest move 
 ' Pale Grief, and pleasing Pain, 
 
 * With Horror, tyrant of the throbbingbreast. 
 ' A voice, as of the Cherub-choir, |1 
 
 * Gales from blooming Eden bear ; 
 
 * And distant warblings lessen on my ear, 
 
 * That lost in long futurity expire. 
 
 * Fond impious Man, think'st thou yon sanguine cloud> 
 ' Rais'd by thy breath, has quench'd the orb pf day ? 
 
 * To-morrow he repairs the golden flood, 
 
 ' And warms the nations with redoubled ray. 
 ' Enough for me : With joy I see 
 
 * The different doom our fates assign. 
 
 Taliessin,.Chief of the Bards, flourished in the sixth century. 
 His works are still preserved, and his memory beld'in high ve 
 Deration among his countrymen. 
 
 t Spenser. t Shakspeare. ]| Milton. 
 
 The succession of Poets after Milton's time. 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 242 THE PROGRESS OF POESY. [CRAY. 
 
 ' Be thine Despair, and sceptred Care, 
 
 ' To triumph, and to die, are mine/ 
 
 He spoke ; and headlong from the mountain's height 
 
 Deep in the roaring tide he plunged to endless night 
 
 THE PROGRESS OF POESY. 
 
 [ibid.] 
 
 I. 1. 
 
 Awake, iEolian lyre, awake. 
 
 And give to rapture all thy trembling strings. 
 
 From Helicon's* harmonious springs 
 
 A thousand rills their mazy progress take : 
 
 The laughing flowers, that round them blow. 
 
 Drink life and fragrance as they flow. 
 
 Now the rich stream of Music winds along. 
 
 Deep, majestic, smooth, and strong. 
 
 Through verdant vales, and Ceres' golden reign : 
 
 Now rolling down the steep amain. 
 
 Headlong, impetuous, see it pour : 
 
 The rocks and nodding groves rebellow to the roar. 
 
 The various sources of Poetry, which gives life and lustre to 
 all it touches, are here described ; its quiet majestic progress, 
 enriching every subject (otherwise dry and barren) with a pomp 
 of dictiou and luxuriant harmony of numbers ; and its more ra- 
 pid and irresistible course, when swoln and hurried away by the 
 conflict ot tumultuous passions.
 
 GHAT.] THE PROGRESS OF POESY. 243 
 
 I. 2. 
 
 Oh ! Sovereign* of the willing soul. 
 Parent of sweet and solemn-breathing airs. 
 Enchanting shell ! the sullen Cares 
 And frantic Passions hear thy soft controuL 
 On Thracia's hills the Lord of War 
 Has curb'd the fury of his car. 
 And drop'd his thirsty lance at thy command. 
 Perching on the sceptred hand 
 Of Jove, thy magic lulls the feathered king 
 With ruffled plumes, and flagging wing : 
 Quench'd in dark clouds of slumber lie 
 The terror of his beak, and light'nings of his eye. 
 
 I. 3. 
 
 Thee the voice, the dance, obey, 
 
 Temper'd to thy warbled lay. 
 
 O'er Idalia's velvet-green 
 
 The rosy-crowned Loves are seen 
 
 On Cytherea's day. 
 
 With antic Sports, and blue-eyed Pleasures, 
 
 Frisking light in frolic measures ; 
 
 Now pursuing, now retreating. 
 
 Now in circling troops they meet : 
 
 Power of harmony to calm the turbulent sallies of the soul. 
 
 M 2
 
 ^44 THE P'ROGRESS OP POESY. [CRAYi 
 
 To brisk notes in cadence beating. 
 
 Glance their many-twinkling feet. 
 
 Slow melting strains their Queen's approach declare : 
 
 Where'er she turns the Graces homage pay. 
 
 With arms siibltme, that float upon the air. 
 
 In gliding state she wiws her easy way : 
 
 O'er her warm cheek, and rising bosom, move 
 
 The bloom of young Desire, and purple light of Love. 
 
 Man's feeble race what ills* await ! 
 Labour, and Penury, the racks of Pain, 
 Disease, and Sorrow's weeping train. 
 And Death, sad refuge from the storms of Fate ! 
 The fond complaint, my song, disprove. 
 And justify the laws of Jove. 
 Say, has he given in vain the heav'nly Muse ? 
 Night, and all her sickly dews. 
 Her spectres wan, and birds of boding cry. 
 He gives to range the dreary sky : 
 Till down the eastern cliffs afar 
 Hyperion's march they spy, and glitt'ring shafts of war. 
 
 * To compensate the real and imaginary ills of life, the Muse 
 was given to mankind by the same Providence that sends tlie 
 Day by its cheerful presence to dispel the gloom and terrors of 
 the Night.
 
 fllWkX>] T^5 PHq^REss OF ^qJESY. ^^, 
 
 n.. ^. 
 
 In climes* beyond the solar Foad, 
 Where shaggy forms o'er ice-built mountaiua roan^* 
 The Muse has broke the twihght-gloom iM 
 
 To cheer the shivering Native's dull abode. 
 And oft, beneath the od'rous shade 
 Of Chili's boundless forests laid. Is ^'>rfJ i:! i - 
 
 She deigns to hear the savage Youth repeat. 
 In loose numbers wildly sweet. 
 Their feather-cinetur'd Chiefe, and dusky Loves. 
 Her track, where'er the Goddess roves. 
 Glory pursue, and generous Shame, 
 Th* unconquerable Mind, and Freedom^s holy flame. 
 
 II. 3. 
 
 Woods, that wave o*er Delphi's steep.-f- 
 Isles, that crown th' ^gean deep, 
 Fields, that cool Ilissus laves. 
 
 Or where Maeander's amber waves 'scf iriT 
 
 In lingering lab'rinths creep. 
 How do your tuneful Echoes languish. 
 Mute, but to the voice of Anguish ! 
 
 Extensive influence of poetic Genius over the remotest an4 
 most uncivilized nations : its connection with liberty, and the 
 virtues that naturally attend on it. 
 
 t Progress of Poetry from Greece to Italy, and from Italy 
 to England.
 
 246 THE PROGRESS OF POESY. [CRAY. 
 
 Where each old poetic Mountain 
 
 Inspiration breath'd around; 
 
 Ev'ry shade and hallow'd Fountain 
 
 Murmur'd deep a solemn sound : 
 
 Till the sad Nine, in Greece's evil hour. 
 
 Left their Parnassus for the Latian plains. 
 
 Alike they scorn the pomp of tyrant Power, 
 
 And coward Vice, that revels in her chains. 
 
 When Latium had her lofty spirit lost. 
 
 They sought, oh Albion ! next, thy sea-encircled coast. 
 
 m. 1. 
 
 Far from the sun and summer-gale. 
 In thy green lap was Nature's darling* laid. 
 What time, where lucid Avon stray'd. 
 To him the mighty mother did unveil 
 Her awful face : the dauntless child 
 Stretch'd forth his little arms, and smiled. 
 This pencil take (she said) whose colours clear 
 Richly paint the vernal year : 
 Thine too these golden keys, immortal Boy ! 
 This can unlock the gates of Joy ; 
 Of Horror that, and thrilling Fears, 
 Or ope the sacred source of sympathetic Tean 
 
 * Shakspeare.
 
 GRAY.] THE PROGRESS OF POESY. 247 
 
 III. 2. 
 
 Nor second He,* that rode sublime 
 Upon the seraph-wings of Ecstacy, 
 The secrets of th' Abyss to spy. 
 He pass'd the flaming bounds of Place and Time : 
 The living Throne, the sapphire -blaze. 
 Where Angels tremble while they gaze. 
 He saw ; but, blasted with excess of light. 
 Closed his eyes in endless night: 
 Behold where Drydeh's less presumptuous car 
 Wide o'er the fields of Glory bear 
 Two Coursers of ethereal race. 
 With necks in thunder cloth'd, andlong -resounding pace 
 
 m. 3. 
 
 Hark, his hands the lyre explore ! 
 Bright-eyed Fancy, hovering o'er. 
 Scatters from her pictur'd urn 
 Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn. 
 
 But ah ! 'tis heard no more 
 
 Oh ! Lyre divine, what daring Spirit 
 Wakes thee now ? Though he inherit 
 Nor the pride, nor ample pinion. 
 That the Theban Eaglef bear. 
 Sailing with supreme dominion 
 Through the azure deep of air: 
 
 Milton. t Pindar.
 
 $48 OIVE ON LYRIC FOETTiy. [aKBNSIOB. 
 
 Yet oft before his infant eyes would nm 
 
 Such forms, as glitter in the Muse's ray 
 
 With orient hues, uab(rrow'<l of the Sun : 
 
 Yet shall he mount, and keep his distant way 
 
 Beyond the hmits of a vulgar fate. 
 
 Beneath the Good how far but far above the Great. 
 
 ODE ON LYRIC POETRY. 
 
 [akensidk.} 
 
 I. I. 
 
 Okce more I join the Thespian choir. 
 
 And taste th' inspiring fount again ; 
 O parent of the Grecian lyre. 
 
 Admit me to thy powerful strain ! 
 And lo ! with ease my step invades 
 The pathless vale and op'ning shades. 
 
 Till now I spy her verdant seat ; 
 And now at large I drink the sound. 
 While these her ofifepring, list'ning round. 
 
 By turns her melody repeat. 
 
 I. 2. 
 
 I see Anacreon smile and sing. 
 His silver tresses breathe perfume.
 
 AKENSIDE.] ODE ON LYUC FOETRT. 34t 
 
 His cheek displays a second spring 
 
 Of roses taught by wine to bloom. 
 Away, deceitful Cares! away. 
 And let me listen to his lay ; 
 
 Let me the wanton pomp enjoy. 
 While in smooth dance the light-wing'd hours 
 Lead round his lyre its patron powers. 
 
 Kind Laughter and convivial Joy. 
 
 I. 3. 
 
 Broke from the fetters of his native land. 
 
 Devoting shame and vengeance to her lords. 
 With louder impulse and a threat'ning hand 
 
 The Lesbian patriot* smites the sounding chords. 
 Ye wretches ! ye perfidious train ! 
 Ye curs'd of gods and free-born men ! / 
 
 Ye murderers of the laws ! 
 Though now ye glory in your lust. 
 Though now ye tread the feeble neck in dust. 
 Yet Time and righteous Jove will judge your dreadful 
 cause. 
 
 IL I. 
 
 But lo ! to Sappho's melting airs 
 Descends tlie radiant queen of Love : 
 
 Alcaeus. 
 M 3
 
 250 ODE ON LYRIC POETRY. [aKENSIDE. 
 
 She smiles, and asks what fonder cares 
 Her supphant's plaintive measures move ? 
 
 Why is my faithful maid distrest? 
 
 Who, Sappho, wounds thy tender breast ? 
 Say, flies he ? Soon he shall pursue : 
 
 Shuns he thy gifts ? He soon shall give : 
 
 Slights lie thy sorrows ? He shall grieve* 
 And soon to all thy wishes bow. 
 
 n. 2. 
 But, O Melpomene ! for whom 
 
 A^wakes thy golden shell again ? 
 What mortal breath shall e'er presume 
 
 To echo that unbounded strain ? 
 Majestic in the frown of years 
 Behold the man of Thebes* appears : 
 
 For some there are whose mighty frame 
 The hand of Jove at birth endow'd 
 With hopes that mock the gazing crowd. 
 
 As eagles drink the noon-tide flame. 
 
 U. 3. 
 
 While the dim raven beats her weary wings. 
 And clamours far below. Propitious Muse f 
 
 While I so late unlock thy purer springs. 
 And breathe whate'er thy ancient airs infuse, 
 
 Pindar.
 
 AKENSIDE.] ODE ON LYRIC POETRY. 251 
 
 Wilt thou for Albion's sons around, 
 
 (Ne'er had'st thou audience more renown'd) 
 
 Thy charming arts employ. 
 As when the winds from shore to shore. 
 Through Greece thy lyre's persuasive language bore. 
 Till towns, and isles, and seas, retum'd the vocal joy ? 
 
 III. 1. 
 
 Yet then did Pleasure's lawless throng. 
 
 Oft rushing forth in loose attire. 
 Thy virgin dance, thy graceful song. 
 
 Pollute with impious revels dire. 
 O fair, O chaste ! thy echoing shade 
 May no foul discord here invade ; 
 
 Nor let thy strings one accent move. 
 Except what earth's untroubled ear 
 'Mid all her social tribes may hear. 
 
 And Heav'n's unerring throne approve. 
 
 III. 2. 
 
 Queen of the Ijnre ! in thy retreat 
 
 The fairest flow'rs of Pindus glow. 
 The vine aspires to crown thy seat. 
 
 And myrtles round thy laurel grow : 
 Thy strings adapt their varied strain 
 - To ev'ry pleasure, ev'ry pain.
 
 352 ODE ON LVRlC POETRY. [akENSIDI. 
 
 Which mortal tribes were born to prove ; 
 And strait our passions rfse or fall. 
 As at the wind's imperious call 
 
 The ocean swells, the billows move. 
 
 III. 3. 
 
 When Midnight listens o'er the slumbering earth. 
 Let me, O Muse ! thy solemn whispers hear ; 
 
 When Morning sends her fragrant breezes forth> 
 With airy murmurs touch my op'ning ear ; 
 
 And, ever watchful at thy side. 
 
 Let Wisdom's awful suffrage guide 
 The tenor of thy lay : 
 
 To her of old by Jove was giv'n 
 
 To judge the various deeds of earth and heav'n : 
 *Twa8 thine by gentle arts to win us to her sway. 
 
 IV. 1. 
 
 Oft, as to well-earn'd ease resign'd, 
 
 I quit the maze where Science toils. 
 Do thou refresh my yielding mind 
 
 With all thy gay delusive spoils ; 
 But oh indulgent, come not nigh 
 The busy steps, the jealous eye 
 
 Of wealthy Care or gainful Age, 
 Whose barren souls thy joys disdain. 
 And hold as foes to Reason's reign 
 
 Whome'er thy lovely works engage.
 
 AKEN3IDE.] ODE ON LYRIC POETRY. 253 
 
 IV. 2. 
 
 When Friendship and when letterM Mirth 
 
 Haply partake my simple board. 
 Then let thy blameless hand call forth 
 
 The music of the Teian chord ; 
 Or, if invoked at softer hours. 
 Oh seek with me the happy bowVs 
 
 That hear Olympia's gentle tongue : 
 To Beauty linkM with Virtue's train. 
 To Love devoid of jealous pain. 
 
 There let the Sapphic lute be strung. 
 
 rv. 3. 
 
 . But when from envy, and from death to claim 
 
 A hero bleeding for his native land ; 
 When to throw incense on the vestal flame 
 
 Of Liberty, my genius gives command ; 
 Nor Theban voice, nor Lesbian lyre. 
 From thee, O Muse ! do I require. 
 
 While my presaging mind. 
 Conscious of powers she never knew, , ^ 
 
 Astonish'd grasps at things beyond her view. 
 Nor by another's fate submits to be confined.
 
 ODE 
 
 TO THE EARL OF HUNTINGDON. 
 m dcc xlvii. 
 
 [ibid.] 
 
 I. 1. 
 
 The wise and great of ev'ry clime. 
 Through all the spacious walks of Time, 
 Where'er the Muse her pow'r display'd. 
 With joy have listen'd and obey'd : 
 For, taught of Heav'n, the sacred Nine 
 Persuasive numbers, forms divine. 
 
 To mortal sense impart : 
 They best the soul with glory fire ; 
 They noblest counsels, boldest deeds inspire ; 
 And high o'er Fortune's rage enthrone the fixed heart. 
 
 I. 2. 
 
 Nor less prevailing is their charm 
 The vengeful bosom to disarm ; 
 To melt the proud with human wo. 
 And prompt unwillingHears to flow. 
 Can wealth a pow'r like this afford? 
 Can Cromwell's art, or Marlborough's sword. 
 An equal empire claim ?
 
 AKENSIDE.] ODE TO THE EARL OF HUNTINGDON. 255 
 
 No, Hastings ! thou my words wilt own : 
 Thy breast the gifts of ev'ry Muse hath known ; 
 Nor shall the giver's love disgrace thy noble name. 
 
 I. 3. 
 
 Th6 Muse's awful art. 
 And the blest function of the poet's tongue. 
 Ne'er shalt thou blush to honour ; to assert 
 From all that scorned Vice or slavish Fear hath sung. 
 Nor shall the blandishment of Tuscan strings. 
 Warbling at will in Pleasure's myrtle bow'r ; 
 Nor shall the servile notes to Celtic kings. 
 By flatt'ring minstrels paid in evil hour. 
 Move thee to spurn the heav'nly Muse's reign. 
 A different strain. 
 And other themes 
 From her prophetic shades and hallow'd streams 
 (Thou well can'st witness) meet the purged ear : 
 Such as when Greece to her immortal shell 
 Rejoicing hsten'd, godlike sounds to hear; 
 
 To hear the sweet instructress tell 
 
 (While men and heroes throng'd around) 
 
 How life its noblest use may find. 
 
 How best for freedom be resign'd j 
 And how, by Glory, Virtue shall be crown'd.
 
 256 ODE TO THE EARL OP HUHTINGDON. [aKENSIDS. 
 II. 1. 
 
 Such was the Chian* father's strain 
 To many a kind domestic train. 
 Whose pious hearth and getiial bowl 
 Had cheer'd the rev'rend pilgrim's soul ; . 
 When, ev'ry hospitable rite 
 With equal bounty to requite. 
 
 He struck his magic strings ; 
 And pour'd spontaneous numbers forth. 
 And seiz'd their ears with tales of ancient worth. 
 And fillM their mushig hearts with vast heroic things. 
 
 II. 2. 
 
 Now oft where happy spirits dwell. 
 Where yet he tunes his charming shell. 
 Oft near him, with applauding hands. 
 The Genius of his country stands ; 
 To list'ning gods he makes him known. 
 That man divine, by whom were sown 
 
 The seeds of Grecian fame : 
 Who first the race with freedom fir'd; 
 From whom Lycurgus Sparta's sons inspir'd ;t 
 From whom Plataean palms and Cyprian trophies came. 
 
 * Homer, 
 t Lycorgus, the Lacedaemonian lawgiver, brought into Greect 
 from Asia Minor the first complete copy of Homer's works.
 
 AKBNJIDE.] OBt TO THE EARL OP HUNTINGDON. 257 
 II. 3. 
 
 O noblest, happiest age ! 
 When Aristides ntled, and Cimon fought ; 
 When all the generous fruits of Homer's page 
 Exulting Pindar* saw to full perfection brought. 
 O Pindar ! oft shall thou be hail'd of me : 
 Not that Apollo fed thee from- his shrine ; 
 Not that thy lips drank sweetness from the bee ; 
 Nor yet that, studious of thy notes divine. 
 Pan danced their measure with the sylvan throng ; 
 But that thy song 
 Was proud t* unfold 
 What thy base rulers trembled to behold ; 
 Amid corrupted Thebes was proud to tell 
 The deeds of Athens and the Persian shame : 
 Hence on thy head their impious vengeance fell 
 But thou, O faithful to thy fame ! 
 The Muse's law didst rightly know j 
 
 * Pindar was contemporary with Aristides and Cimon, in 
 whom the glory of ancient Greece was at its height. When 
 Xerxes invaded Greece, Pindar was true to the common inte- 
 rest of his coontry, though his fellow-citizens the Thebans had 
 sold themselves to the Persian king. As the argument of this 
 ode implies that great poetical talents and high sentiments of li- 
 berty do reciprocally produce and assist each other, so Pindar is 
 perhaps the most exemplary proof of this connection which oc- 
 curs in history.
 
 258 ODE TO THE EARL OF HUNTINGDON. [aKENSIDE. 
 
 That who would animate his lays, 
 And other minds to virtue raise. 
 Must feel his own with all her spirit glow. 
 
 III. 1. 
 
 Are there, approved of later times. 
 Whose verse adom'd a tyrant's* crimes ? 
 Who saw majestic Rome betrayed. 
 And lent th' imperial ruffian aid ? 
 Alas ! not one polluted bard. 
 No, not the strains that Mincius heard. 
 
 Or Tiber's hills rep^d. 
 Dare to the Muse's ear aspire ; 
 Save that, instructed by the Grecian lyre. 
 With freedom's ancient notes their shameful task they 
 hide. 
 
 III. 2. 
 
 Mark, how the dread Pantheon stands. 
 Amid the domes of modern hands : 
 Amid the toys of idle state. 
 How simply, how severely great ! 
 Then turn, and, while each western clime 
 Presents her tuneful sons to Time, 
 So mark thou Milton's name j 
 
 * Octaviug Caesar,
 
 AKENSIDE.] ODE TO THE EAKL OF HUNTINGDON. 359 
 
 And add, * Thus differs from the throng 
 ' The spirit which inform'd thy awful song, 
 * Which bade thy potent voice protect thy country's 
 fame/ 
 
 III. 3. 
 
 Yet hence barbaric zeal 
 His memory with unholy rage pursues. 
 While from these arduous cares of public weal 
 She bids each bard begone, and rest him with his Muse. 
 O fool ! to think the man whose ample mind 
 Must grasp at all that yonder stars survey. 
 Must join the noblest forms of every kind 
 The world's most perfect image to display, 
 Can e'er his country's majesty behold, 
 Unmov'd or cold ! 
 O fool ! to deem 
 That he, whose thought must visit ev*ry theme. 
 Whose heart must ev'ry strong emotion know. 
 Inspired by Nature, or by Fortune taught ; 
 That he, if haply some presumptuous foe. 
 
 With false ignoble science fraught. 
 
 Shall spurn at Freedom's faithful band ; 
 
 That he their dear defence will shun,* 
 
 Or hide their glories from the sun. 
 Or deal their vengeance with a woman's hand ! 
 
 * Alluding to his Defence of the People of England against 
 Salmasius.
 
 960 ODE TO THB EARL OF HUNTINODOK. [aKENSIDK- 
 IV. 1. 
 
 I care not that in Arno's plain, 
 Or on the sportive banks of Seine, 
 From public themes the Muses' quire 
 Content with polish'd ease retire. 
 Where priests the studious head command. 
 Where tyrants bow the warHke hand 
 
 To vile Ambition's aim. 
 Say, what can public themes afford. 
 Save venal honours to an hateful lord. 
 Reserved for an^y Heav'n, and scom'dof honest Fame ? 
 
 IV. a. 
 
 But here, where Freedom's equal throne 
 To all her valiant sons is known ; 
 Where all are conscious of her cares. 
 And each the pow'r, that rules him, shares ; 
 Here let the bard, whose dastard tongue 
 Leaves public arguments unsung, 
 
 Bid public praise farewell : 
 Let him to fitter climes remove. 
 Far from the hero's and the patriot's love. 
 And lull mysterious monks to slumber in their cell. 
 
 IV. . 3. 
 
 O Hastings ! not to all 
 Can ruling Heav'n the same endowments lencl :
 
 AKENSIDE.] ODV. TO THE BARL . OF HUNTINGDON. 261 
 
 Yet still doth Nature tober offspritig caU, 
 That to one general weal their diff'rent powers they 
 bend, 
 Unenvious. Thus alone, though strains divine 
 Inform the bosom of the Muse's son ; 
 Though '<vith new honours the Patrician's line 
 Advance from age to age ; yet thus alone 
 They win the suffrage of impartial Fame. 
 The poet's natne 
 He best shall prove. 
 Whose lays the soul with noblest passions move. 
 But thee, O progeny of heroes old ! 
 Thee to severer toils thy fate requires : 
 The fate which form-d thee in a chosen mould. 
 The grateful country of thy sires. 
 Thee to sublimer paths demand; 
 Sublimer than thy sires could trace. 
 Or thy own Edward* teach his race. 
 Though Gaul's proud Genius sank beneath his hand. 
 
 V. i. 
 From rich domains and subject farms. 
 They led the rustic youth to ariois ; 
 
 * Edward III. from frUotai descended 'Henry Hastings, third 
 Earl of HantiDgdon, by the daughter of 4:he Duke of Clarence, 
 brother to Edward IV.
 
 263 ODE TO THE EARL OF HUNTINGDON. [aKENSIDE. 
 
 And kings their stern achievements fear'd ; 
 While private strife their banners rear'd. 
 But loftier scenes to thee are shewn. 
 Where empire's wide-establish'd throne 
 
 No private master fills : 
 Where, long foretold, the people reigns : 
 Where each a vassal's humble heart disdains ; 
 And judgeth what he sees ; and, as he judgeth, wills. 
 
 V. 2. 
 
 Here be it thine to calm and guide 
 The swelling Democratic tide ; 
 To watch the state's uncertain frame. 
 And baffle Faction's partial aim : 
 But chiefly, with determin'd zeal. 
 To quell that servile band, who kneel 
 
 To Freedom's banish'd foes ; 
 That monster, which is daily found 
 Expert and bold thy country's peace to wound. 
 Yet dreads to handle arms, nor manly counsel knows. 
 V. 3. 
 
 *Tis highest Heav'n's command. 
 That guilty aims should sordid paths pursue ; 
 That what ensnares the heart should maim the hand. 
 And Virtue's worthless foes be false to glory too. 
 But look on Freedom : see through ev'ry age 
 What labours, perils, griefs, hath she disdain'd!
 
 AKENSIDE.] ODE TO THE EARL OF HUNTINGDON. 265. 
 
 What arms, what regal pride, what priestly rage. 
 Have her dread offspring conquer'd or sustain'd ! 
 For Albion well have conquer'd. Let the strains 
 Of happy swains. 
 Which now resound 
 Where Scarsdale's cliffs* the swelling pastures 
 
 bound. 
 Bear witness : there, oft let the farmer hail 
 The sacred orchard which imbow'rs his gate. 
 And shew to strangers passing down the vale. 
 Where Cav'ndish, Booth, and Osborne, sate. 
 When bursting from their country's chain, 
 Ev'n in the midst of deadly harms. 
 Of papal snares and lawless arms. 
 They plan'd for Freedom this her noblest reign. 
 
 VI. 1. 
 
 This reign, these laws, this public care. 
 Which Nassau gave us all to share. 
 Had ne'er adorn'd the English name. 
 Could Fear have silenced Freedom's claim : 
 
 At Whittington, a village on the edge of Scarsdale, in Der- 
 byshire, the Earls of Devonshire and Danby, with the Lord De- 
 lamere, privately concerted the plan of the Revolution. Tte 
 house in which they met is at present a farm-house, and the 
 country people distinguish the room where they sat by the name 
 of the Plotting Parlur.
 
 2Si ODE TO THE BAAL OF HUNTmCDON. [aRENSIOE. 
 
 But Fear in vain attempts to bind 
 Those lofty eftbrts of the mind 
 
 Which social good inspires : 
 Where men, for this, assault a throne. 
 Each adds the common welfare to his own ; 
 And each unconqucr'd heart the strength of all acquires. 
 
 VI. 2. 
 
 Say, -was it thus, when late we view'd 
 Our fields in civil blood imbru'd ? 
 When Fortune crown'd the barb'rous host. 
 And half th* astonished isle was lost ? 
 Did one of all that vaunting train. 
 Who dare affront a peaceful reign. 
 
 Durst one in arms appear ? 
 Durst one in counsels pledge his life ? 
 Stake his luxurious fortunes in the strife ? 
 Or lend his boasted name his vagrant friends to cheer ? 
 
 VI. 3. 
 
 Yet, Hastings! these are they 
 Who challenge to themselves thy country's love ; 
 The true, the constant, who alone can weigh 
 What glory should demand, or liberty approve ! 
 But let their works declare them. Thy free pow'xs, 
 The gen'rous pow'rs of thy prevailing mind. 
 Not for the tasks of their confed'rflte hours.
 
 SIR W.JONES.] ODE IM IMITATION OF ALCAUS. 265 
 
 Lewd brawls, and lurking slander, were design'd. 
 Be thou thy own approver. Honest praise 
 Oft nobly sways 
 Ingenuous youth : 
 But sought from cowards and the lying mouth 
 Praise is reproach. Eternal God alone 
 For mortals fixeth that sublime award. 
 He from the faithful records of his throne 
 
 Bids the historian and the bard 
 
 Dispose of honour and of scorn ; 
 
 Discern the patriot from the slave ; 
 
 And write the good, the wise, the brave. 
 For lessons to the multitude unborn. 
 
 AN ODE 
 
 IN IMITATION OF ALCJEUS, 
 [sir W. JONES.] 
 
 What constitutes a state? 
 Not high raised battlement or labour'd mound. 
 
 Thick wall or moated gate ; 
 Not cities proud with spires and turrets crown'd. 
 
 Not bays and broad-arm'd ports. 
 
 Where, laughing at the storm, rich navies ride, 
 VOL, r. N
 
 266 ODE IN IMITATION OF ALCXUS. [siR W. JONES. 
 
 Not star'd and spangled courts. 
 Where low-brow'd baseness wafts perfume to pride. 
 
 NO : Men, high-minded Men, 
 With powVs as far above dull brutes endu'd. 
 
 In forest, brake, or den. 
 As beasts excel cold rock, and brambles rude ; 
 
 Men, who their duties know. 
 But know their rights, and knowing, dare maintain. 
 
 Prevent the long-aim'd blow, 
 And crush the tyrant while they rend the chain : 
 
 These constitute a state. 
 And sov'reign Law, that state's collected will. 
 
 O'er thrones and globes elate 
 Sits Empress, crowning good, repressing ill : 
 
 Smit by her sacred frown 
 The fiend. Discretion, like a vapour sinks. 
 
 And e'en th' all-dazzling Crown 
 Hides his faint rays, and at her bidding shrinks. 
 
 Such was this heav'n lov'd isle. 
 Than Lesbos fairer and the Cretan shore ! 
 
 No more shall freedom smile ? 
 Shall Britons languish, and be Men no more ? 
 
 Since all must life resign. 
 Those sweet rewards which decorate the brave, 
 
 'Tis folly to decline. 
 And steal inglorious to the silent grave.
 
 ODE 
 
 On the Institution of the Order of the Garter. 
 [g. west.] 
 
 STROPHE 1. 
 
 Celestjal maid ! 
 
 Bright spark of that ethereal flame. 
 
 Whose vivid spirit through all nature spread. 
 
 Sustains and actuates this boundless frame ! 
 
 O by whatever stile to mortals known. 
 
 Virtue, benevolence, or public zeal. 
 
 Divine assessor of the regal throne. 
 
 Divine protectress of the common weal, 
 
 O in our hearts thy energy infuse ! 
 
 Be thou our Muse, 
 
 Celestial maid. 
 
 And, as of old, impart thy heav'nly aid 
 
 To those, who, warm'd by thy benignant fire. 
 
 To public merit and their country's good 
 
 Devoted ever their recording lyre. 
 
 Wont along Deva*s sacred flood. 
 
 Or, beneath Mona's oak retired. 
 
 To warble forth their patriot lays. 
 
 And nourish with immortal praise 
 
 The bright heroic flames by thee inspired. ^ 
 
 n3
 
 26S ODE ON THE INSTITUTION OP [o. WEST. 
 
 ANTISTROPHE 1. 
 
 I feel, I feel 
 Thy soul-invigorating heat; 
 My bounding veins distend with fervent zeal. 
 And to Britannia's fame responsive beat. 
 Hail Albion, native country ! but how changed 
 Thy once grim aspect, how adorn'd and gay 
 Thy howling forests, where together ranged 
 The naked hunter and his savage prey;: 
 Where amid black inhospitable woods 
 The sedge-grown floods 
 All cheerless stray'd. 
 Nor in their lonely wand'ring course surveyed. 
 Or tow'r, or castle, heav'n-ascending fane. 
 Or lowly village, residence of peace 
 And joyous industry, or furrow'd plain. 
 
 Or lowing herd, or silver fleece 
 
 That whitens now each verdant vale ; 
 
 While laden with their precious store 
 
 Far trading barks to every shore. 
 Swift heralds of Britannia's glory, sail. 
 
 EPODE 1. 
 
 These are thy shining works : this smiling face 
 Of beauteous nature thus in regal state, 
 Dcck'd by each handmaid art, each polish'd grace. 
 That on fair liberty and order wait
 
 C. WEST.] THE ORDER OF THE GAKTER. 269 
 
 This pomp, these riches, this repose* 
 
 To thee imperial Britain owes. 
 To thee, great substitute of Heav'n, 
 To whom the charge of earthly realms was giv*n j 
 Their social systems by wise nature's plan 
 To form and rule by her eternal laws; 
 To teach the selfish soul of wayward man 
 To seek. the public good, and aid the common cause. 
 
 So didst thou move the mighty heart 
 Of Alfred, founder of the British state : 
 
 So to Matilda's scepter'd son. 
 
 To him whose virtue and renown 
 
 First made the name of Edward great. 
 Thy ample spirit so didst thou impart : 
 
 Protecting thus in every age. 
 
 From greedy pow'r and factious rage. 
 That law of freedom, which to Britain's shore 
 From Saxon-Elva's many-headed flood. 
 The valiant sons of Odin with them bore, . 
 Their national, adored, inseparable good. 
 
 STROPHE 2. 
 
 On yonder plain,* 
 Along whose willow-fringed side 
 
 * Runny Mead, near Staines, where the Grand Charter was 
 signed by King John.
 
 S70 ORE ON THE INSTITUTION OF [g. WEST. 
 
 The silver-footed Naiads, sportive train, 
 Down the smooth Thames amid the cygnets ghde, 
 I saw, when, at thy reconciling word. 
 Injustice, anarchy, intestine jar. 
 Despotic insolence, the wasting sword. 
 And all the brazen throats of civil war. 
 Were hush'd in peace. From his imperious throne 
 Hurl'd furious down, 
 Abash'd, dismay'd. 
 Like a chased lion to the savage shade 
 Of his own forests, fell oppression fled. 
 With vengeance brooding in his sullen breast. 
 Then Justice fearless rear'd her decent head, 
 
 Heal'd every grief, each wrong redressed ; 
 
 While round her valiant squadrons stood. 
 
 And bade her awful tongue demand. 
 
 From vanquish'd John's reluctant hand. 
 The deed of freedom purchased with their blood. 
 
 ANTISTROPHE 2. 
 
 O vain surmise ! 
 To deem the grandeur of a crown 
 Consists in lawless pow'r ! to deem them wise 
 Who change security and fair renown. 
 For detestation, shame, distrust, aqd fear !
 
 G. WEST.] THE ORDER OF THE GARTER. S7l 
 
 Who, shut for ever from the blissful bow'rs. 
 With horror and remorse at distance hear 
 The music that enchants th' immortal powers. 
 The heav'nly music of well purchased praise. 
 Seraphic lays. 
 The sweet reward 
 On heroes, patriots, righteous kings conferred. 
 For such alone the heav'n-taught poets sing. 
 Tune ye for Edward,* then, the mortal strain. 
 His name shall well become your golden string ; 
 
 Begirt with this ethereal train. 
 
 Seems he not rank'd among the gods ? 
 
 Then let him reap the glorious meed 
 
 Due to each great heroic deed. 
 And taste the pleasures of the blest abodes. 
 
 EPODE 2. 
 
 Hail, happy prince ! on whom kind fate bestowf 
 Sublimer joys, and glory brighter far 
 Than Cressy's palm, and every wreath that grows 
 In all the blood-stain*d field of prosp'rous war ; 
 
 Joys that might charm an heavenly breast. 
 
 To make dependent millions blest, 
 A dying nation to restore. 
 And save fall'n liberty with kingly pow*r; 
 
 * Edward III. by whom the Order of the Garter was founded.
 
 272 ODE ON THE ORDEK OF THE GARTER. [c. WEST. 
 
 To quench the torch of discord and debate. 
 
 Relume the languid sparic of public zeal. 
 
 Repair the breaches of a shatter'd state. 
 
 And gloriously compleat the plan of England's weal ; 
 
 Complete the noble Gothic pile. 
 That on the rock of justice rear'd shall stand 
 
 In symmetry, and strength, and fame, 
 
 A rival of that boasted frame 
 
 Which virtue rais'd on Tiber's strand. 
 Tliis, Edward, guardian, father of our isle. 
 
 This god-like task, to few assign'd. 
 
 Exalts thee above human-kind. 
 And from the realms of everlasting day 
 Calls down celestial bards thy praise to sing ; 
 Calls this bright troop of spirits to survey 
 Thee, the great miracle of earth, a Patriot-King. 
 
 END Of VOL. I.
 
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