Long by the lov'd enthusiast woo'd, And plac'd her on his sapphire throne, And thou, thou rich-hair'd youth of morn, By whofe the Tarfol's eyes were made; Nigh fpher'd in heaven its native ftrains could hear: On which that ancient trump he reach'd was hung; Thither oft his glory greeting, From Waller's myrtle fhades retreating, With many a vow from Hope's afpiring tongue, Of all the fons of foul was known, And Heaven, and Fancy, kindred powers, Or curtain'd clofe fuch fcene from every future view. O D E. WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1746. OW fleep the brave, who fink to reft, How the find the When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Gentleft of sky-born forms, and best ador'd: And hid'it in wreaths of flowers his bloodless sword! Oft with thy bofom bare art found, ANTISTROPHE. When he whom ev'n our joys provoke, And rush'd in wrath to make our ifle his prey; Thy form, from out thy fweet abode, And ftopp'd his wheels, and look'd his rage away. That bore him swift to favage deeds, To thee we build a roseate bower. Thou, thou fhalt rule our queen, and share our monarch's throne ! O Goddefs, in that feeling hour, With heaviest found, a giant-statue, fell, When Time his northern fons of spoil awoke, And all the blended work of strength and grace, With many a rude repeated stroke, And many a barbarous yell, to thousand fragments broke. EPODE. 2. Yet, ev'n where'er the leaft appear'd, In jealous Pifa's olive fhade! See fmall Marino joins the theme, Ah, no! more pleas'd thy haunts I feek, ANTISTROPHE. Beyond the measure vaft of thought, * The Dutch, amongst whom there are very fevere penalties for those who are convicted of killing this bird. They are kept tame in all their towns, and particularly at the Hague, of the arms of which they make a part. The common people of Holland are faid to entertain a fuperftitious fentiment, that if the whole fpecies of them should become extinct, they fhould love their liberties. VOL. VII. The Gaul, 'tis held of antique ftory, Saw Britain link'd to his now adverfe ftrand, * No fea between, nor cliff fublime and hoary, He pafs'd with unwet feet through all our land. To the blown Baltic then, they fay, The wild waves found another way, Where Orcas lowls, his wolfish mountains rounding; Till all the banded weft at once 'gan rife, A wild wide storm ev'n Nature's felf confounding, Withering her giant fons with ftrange uncouth furprize. This pillar'd earth fo firm and wide, By winds and inward labours torn, And down the fhouldering billows borne. Monat, once hid from thofe who fearch the main, And Wight who checks the westering tide, To thee this bleft divorce fhe ow'd, For thou haft made her vales thy lov'd, thy last abode ! SECOND EPODE. Then too, 'tis faid, an hoary pile, * This tradition is mention'd by feveral of cur old hiftorians. Some naturalifts too have endeavour'd to fupport the probability of the fact, by arguments drawn from the correfpondent difpofit.on of the two oppofite coafts. I do not remember that any poetical ufe has been hitherto made of it. There is a tradition in the Isle of Man, that a mermaid becoming enamour'd of a young man of extraordinary beauty, took an opportunity of meeting him one day as he walk'd on the thore, and opened her paffion to him, but was receiv'd with a coldness, occafioned by his horror and furprize at her appearance. This however was fo mifconftruet! by the fea-lady, that, in revenge for his treatment of her, fhe punifh'd the whole inland, by covering it with a mift, fo that all who attempted to carry on any commerce with it, either never arriv'd at it, but wandered up and down the fea, or were on a fudden wrecked upon its cliffs. L The chiefs who fill our Albion's story, In warlike weeds, retir'd in glory, Hear that conforted Druids fing Their triumphs to th' immortal string. How may the poet now unfold, What never tongue or numbers told? How learn delighted, and amaz'd, What hands unknown that fabric rais'd? Ev'n now, before his favour'd eyes, In Gothic pride it feems to rife! Yet Grecia's graceful orders join, Majeftic, through the mix'd defign; The fecret builder knew to chufe, Each sphere-found gem of richest hues : Whate'er heaven's purer mold contains, When nearer funs emblaze its veins; There on the walls the Patriot's fight May ever hang with fresh delight, And, grav'd with fome prophetic rage, Read Albion's fame through every age. Ye forms divine, ye laureate band, That near her inmoft altar ftand! Now foothe her, to her blissful train Blithe Concord's focial form to gain: Concord, whofe myrtle wand can steep Ev'n Anger's blood-fhot eyes in fleep : Before whose breathing bofom's balm, Rage drops his fteel, and forms grow calm; Her let our fires and matrons hoar Welcome to Britain's ravag'd fhore, Our youths, enamour'd of the fair, Play with the tangles of her hair, Till, in one loud applauding found, The nations fhout to her around, O, how fupremely art thou bleft, Thou, Lady, thou shalt rule the weft! W HILE, loft to all his former mirth, Britannia's genius bends to earth, And mourns the fatal day : While ftain'd with blood he ftrives to tear Unfeemly from his fea-green hair The wreaths of chearful May: The thoughts which mufing pity pays, And points the bleeding friend. By rapid Scheld's defcending wave His country's vows fhall blefs the grave, That facred fpot the village hind O'er him, whofe doom thy virtues grieve, And bend the penfive head; Shall point his lonely bed! The warlike dead of every age, Old Edward's fons, unknown to yield, And gaze with fix'd delight: But, lo! where, funk in deep despair, Her matted treffes madly spread, Ne'er fhall fhe leave that lowly ground, If, weak to foothe fo foft an heart, Wheree'er from time thou court'ft relief, Her gentleft promise keep : And bid her fhepherds weep. ODE TO EVENING. Tir'd of his rude tyrannic fway, Our youth thall fix fome feftive day, But thou, who hear'ft the turning spheres, O Peace, thy injur'd robes up-bind! Of all thy beamy train: The British lion), Goddefs fweet, And own thy holier reign. Let others court thy tranfient smile, By warlike Honour led! And, while around her ports rejoice, THE MANNERS. F AN ODE. AREWELL, for clearer ken defign'd; Farewell the porch, whofe roof is feen, Youth of the quick uncheated fight, To learn, where Science fure is found, Retiring hence to thoughtful cell, While, ever varying as they pafs, There where the young-ey'd healthful Wit, By him, whofe knight's distinguish'd name Whofe tales ev'n now, with echoes fweet, Or him 1, whom Seine's blue nymphs deplore, Who drew the fad Sicilian maid, By virtues in her fire betray'd : O Nature boon, from whom proceed Each forceful thought, each prompted deed; If but from thee I hope to feel, On all my heart imprint thy feal! Let fome retreating Cynic find Thofe oft-turn'd fcrolls I leave behind, To rove thy fcene-full world with thee! THE W PASSIONS. ΑΝ ODE FOR MUSIC. HEN Mufic, heavenly maid, was young, While yet in early Greece the fung, The Paffions oft, to hear her thell, Throng'd around her magic cell, Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting, Poffeft beyond the Mufe's painting; By turns they felt the glowing mind Difturb'd, delighted, rais'd, refin'd. Till once, 'tis faid, when all were fir'd, Fill'd with fury, rapt, infpir'd, From the fupporting myrtles round They fnatch'd her instruments of found, And as they oft had heard apart Sweet leffons of her forceful art, Each, for madnet's rul'd the hour, Would prove his own expreffive power. * Alluding to the Milcfian Tales, fome of the earliest romances. + Cervantes. Monfieur Le Sage, author of the incomparable adventures of Gil Blas de Santillane, who died in Paris in the year 1745. 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 found himself had made. Next Anger rufh'd, his eyes on fire, With woeful measures wan Despair- But thou, O Hope, with eyes so fair, And bade the lovely fcenes at diftance bail And from the rocks, the woods, the vale, She call'd on Echo ftill through all the fong; And where her sweeteft theme the chofe, A foft refponfive voice was heard at every clofe, And Hope enchanted fmil'd, and wav'd her golden hair. |