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By her, whose love-lom woe,
The band, as fairy legends say, In evening musings slow,
Was wove on that creating day, Sooth'd sweetly sad Electra's poet's ear:
When he, who call’d with thought to birth By old Cephisus deep,
Yon tented sky, this laughing Earth, Who spread his wavy sweep
And dress'd with springs, and forests tall, lo warbled wanderings round thy green retreat,
And pour'd the main, engirting all, On whose enamel'd side,
Long by the lov'd enthusiast wou'd, When holy Freedom died,
Himself in some diviner mood, No equal haunt allur'd thy future feet.
Retiring, sate with her alone,
And plac'd her on his sapphire throne, O sister meek of Truth,
The whiles, the vaulted shrine around, To my admiring youth
Seraphic wires were heard to sound, Thy sober aid and native charms infuse !
Now sublimest triumph swelling; The flowers that sweetest breathe,
Now on love and mercy dwelling; Though Beauty cull'd the wreath,
And she, from out the veiling cloud, Still ask thy hand to range their order'd hues. Breath'd her magic notes aloud : While Rome could none esteem,
And thou, thou rich-hair'd youth of mom, But virtue's patriot theme,
And all thy subject life was born. You lov'd her hills, and led her laureate band; The dangerous passions kept aloof, But staid to sing alone
Far from the sainted growing woof:
But near it sate ecstatic Wonder,
And Truth, in sunny vest array'd,
By whose the Tarsol's eyes were made ; Love, only Love, her forceless numbers mean:
All the shadowy tribes of mind For thou hast left her shrine,
In braided dance their murmurs join'd,
And all the bright uncounted powers,
Who feed on Heaven's ambrosial flowers,
Where is the bard, whose soul can now Though Taste, though Genius bless
Its high presuming hopes avow ? To some divine excess,
Where he, who thinks, with rapture blind, Paint 's the cold work till thou inspire the whole; This hallow'd work for him design'd ? What each, what all supply,
High on some cliff, to Heaven up-pil'd,
Of rude access, of prospect wild,
Strange shades o'erbrow the valleys deep,
And holy genii guard the rock, I only seek to find thy temperate rale:
Its glooms embrown, its springs unlock, Where oft my reed might sound
While on its rich ambitious head, To maids and shepherds round,
An Eden, like his own, lies spread.
I view that oak, the fancied glades among,
Nigh spherd in Heaven its native strains could ODE ON THE POETICAL CHARACTER.
On which that antient trump he reach'd was As once, if not with light regard,
hung; I read aright that gifted bard,
Thither oft his glory greeting, (Hina whose school above the rest
From Waller's myrtle shades retreating, His loveliest Elfin queen has blest)
With many a vow frorn Hope's aspiring tongue, One, only one unrival'd fair',
My trembling feet his guiding steps pursue; Might hope the magic girdle wear,
In vain-Such bliss to one alone, At solemn tournay hung on high,
Of all the sons of soul was known, The wish of each love-darting eye;
And Heaven, and Fancy, kindred powers, Lo! to each other nymph in turn applied,
Have now o'erturn'd th' inspiring bowers, As if, in air unseen, soine hovering hand, Or curtain'd close such scene from every future view. Some chaste and angel-friend to virgin-fame,
With whisper'd spell had burst the starting band, It left upblest her loath'd dishonqur'd side; Happier hopeless fair, if never
WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1746.
How sleep the brave, who sink to rest,
When Spring, with dewy iingers cold, To few the god-like gift assigns,
Returns to deck their hallow'd mould, To gird their blest prophetic loins,
She there shall dress a sweeter sod,
By Fairy hands their knell is rung,
There Honoar comies, à pilgrim gray,
EPODL. To bless the turf that wraps their clay,
Yet, e'en where'er the least appear'd And Freedom shall a while repair,
Th’ admiring world thy hand rever'd;
Still, 'midst the scatter'd states around,
How wondrous rose her perfect form ;
How in the great, the labour'd whole,
Each mighty master pour'd bis soul;
For sunny Florence, seat of Art, By Valour's arm'd and aweful side,
Beneath her vines preserv'd a part, Gentlest of sky-born forms, and best ador'd:
Till they, whom Science lov'd to name, Who oft with songs, divine to hear,
(0, who could fear it !) quench'd her fame. Winn'st from his fatal grasp the spear,
And, lo, an humbler relic laid And hid'st in wreaths of flowers his bloodless sword!
In jealous Pisa's olive shade! Thou who, amidst the deathful field,
See small Marino joins the theme, By godlike chiefs alone beheld,
Though least, not last in thy esteem; Oft with thy bosom bare art found,
Strike, louder strike th' ennobling strings Pleading for him the youth who sinks to ground:
To those, whose merchants sons were kings; See, Mercy, see, with pure and loaded hands,
To him, who, deck'd with pearly pride, Before thy shrine my country's genius stands,
In Adria weds his green-hair'd bride : And decks thy altar still, though pierc'd with many
Hail, port of glory, wealth, and pleasure, a wound!
Ne'er let me change this Lydian measure :
Nor e'er her former pride relate
To sad Liguria's bleeding state.
Ah, no! more pleas'd thy haunts I seek, The fiend of Nature, join'd his yoke,
On wild Helvetia's mountains bleak: And rush'd in wrath to make our isle his prey;
(Where, when the favour'd of thy choice, Thy form, from out thy sweet abode,
The daring archer heard thy voice;
Forth from his eyrie rous'd in dread,
Or dwell in willow'd meads more near,
With those to whom thy stork is dear; Thy tender melting eyes they own;
Those whom the rod of Alva bruis'd, O maid, for all thy love to Britain shown,
Whose crown a British queen refus'd! Where Justice bars her iron tower,
The magic works, thou feel'st the strains, To thee we build a roseate bower,
One holier name alone remains; Thou, thou shalt rule our queen, and share our
The perfect spell shall then avail, monarch's throne !
Hail, nymph, ador'd by Britain, bail !
Beyond the measure vast of thought,
The works, the wizard Time has wrought!
The Gaul, 't is held of antique story,
Saw Britain link'd to his now adverse strand, Who shall awake the Spartan fife,
No sea between, nor cliff sublime and hoary, And call in solemn sounds to life,
He pass'd with unwet feet through all our land. The youths, whose locks divinely spreading,
To the blown Baltic then, they say, Like vernal hyacinths in sullen hue,
The wild waves found another way, At once the breath of fear and virtue shedding,
Where Orcas howls, his wolfish mountains rounding; Applauding Freedom lov'd of old to view ?
Till all the banded west at once 'gan rise, What new Alceus, fancy-blest,
A wide wild storm e'en Nature's self confounding, Shall sing the sword, in myrtles drest,
Withering her giant sons with strange uncouth At Wisdom's shrine a while its fame concealing,
surprise. (What place so fit to scal a deed renown'd?)
Till she her brightest lightnings round revealing, It Teap'd in glory forth, and dealt her prompted 1 The Dutch, amongst whom there are rery wound!
severe penalties for those who are convicted of killO goddess, in that feeling hour,
ing this bird. They are kept tame in almost all When most its sounds would court thy ears, their towns, and particularly at the Hague, of the Let not my shell's misguided power
arms of wbich they make a part. The common E'er draw thy sad, thy mindful tears.
people of Holland are said to entertain a superstiNo, Freedom, no, I will not tell,
tious sentiment, that if the whole species of them How Roine, before thy face,
should become extinct, they should lose their With heaviest sound, a giant-statue, fell,
liberties. Push'd by a wild and artless race,
? This tradition is mentioned by several of our From off its wide ambitious base,
old historians. Some naturalists tou have endea. When Time his northern sons of spoil awoke, voured to support the probability of the fact, by
And all the blended work of strength and grace arguments drawn from the correspondent disposi
With many a rude repeated stroke, [broke. tion of the two opposite coasts. I do not remember And many a barbarous yell, to thousand fragments that any poetical use has been hitherto made of it,
IN THE ACTION AT PONTENOY.
This pillard earth so firm and wide,
Now soothe her, to her blissful train By winds and inward labours torn,
Blithe Concord's social form to gain : In thunders dread was push'd aside,
Concord, whose myrtle wand can steep And down the shouldering billows borne. E'en Anger's blood-shot eyes in sleep : And see, like gems, ber laughing train,
Before whose breathing bosom's balm, The little isles on every side,
Rage drops his steel, and storms grow calms Mona 3, once hid from those who search the main, Her let our sires and matrons hoar Where thousand elfin shapes abide,
Welcome to Britain's ravag'd shore, And Wight, who checks the westering tide, Our youths, enamour'd of the
fair, For thee consenting Heaven has each bestow'd, Play with the tangles of her hair, A fair attendant on her sovereign pride :
Till, in one loud applauding sound,
Thou, lady, thou shalt rule the West !"
ODE, TO A LADY, There oft the painted native's feet
ON THE DEATH OF COL. CHARLES ROSS Were wont thy form celestial meet: Though now with hopeless toil we trace Time's backward rolls, to find its place;
Written May, 1745. Whether the fiery-tressed Dane,
While, lost to all his former mirth, Or Roman's self o'erturn'd the fane,
Britannia's genius bends to earth, Or in what heaven-left age it fell,
And mourns the fatal day: 'T were hard for modern song to tell.
While stain'd with blood he strives to tear Yet still, if truth those beams infuse,
Unseemly from his sea-green hair Which guide at once, and charm the Muse, The wreaths of cheerful May: Beyond yon braided clouds that lie,
The thoughts which musing Pity pays, Paving the light embroider'd sky:
And fond Remembrance loves to raise, Amidst the bright pavilion'd plains,
Your faithful hours attend : The beauteous model still remains,
Still Fancy, to herself unkind, There happier than in islands blest,
Awakes to grief the soften'd mind, Or bowers by Spring or Hebe drest,
And points the bleeding friend. The chiefs who fill our Albion's story,
By rapid Scheld's descending wave In warlike weeds, retird in glory,
His country's vows shall bless the grave, Hear their consorted Druids sing
Where'er the youth is laid :
That sacred spot the village hind
With every sweetest turf shall bind,
And Peace protect the shade. What bands unknown that fabric rais'd ?
O'er bim, whose doom thy virtues grieve, E'en now, before his favour'd eyes,
Aërial forms shall sit at eve, In Gothic pride it seems to rise !
And bend the pensive head; Yet Grecia's graceful orders join,
And, fall'n to save his injur'd land, Majestic, through the mix'd design;
Imperial Honour's awful hand The secret builder knew to chuse,
Shall point his lonely bed! Each sphere found gem of richest hues :
The warlike dead of every age, Whate'er Heaven's parer mould contains,
Who fill the fair recording page, When nearer suns emblaze its veins;
Shall leave their sainted rest : There on the walls the patriot's sight
And, half-reclining on his spear, May ever hang with fresh delight,
Each wondering chief by turns appear And, 'grav'd with some prophetic rage,
To hail the blooming guest. Read Albion's fame through every age.
Old Edward's sons, unknown to yield, Ye forms divine, ye laureate band,
Shall crowd from Cressy's laurel'd field, That near her inmost altar stand!
And gaze with fix'd delight:
Again for Britain's wrongs they feel, 3 There is a tradition in the Isle of Man, that a mermaid, becoming enamoured of a young man of Again they snatch the gleamy steel,
And wish th' avenging fight. extraordinary beauty, took an opportunity of meeting him one day as he walked on the shore, and But, lo! where,' sunk in deep despair, opened her passion to him, but was received with a Her garments torn, her bosom bare, coldness, occasioned by his horrour and surprise at
Impatient Freedom lies! her appearance. This however was so misconstrued Her matted tresses madly spread, by the sea-lady, that, in revenge for his treatment To every sod which wraps the dead,
She turns her juyless eyes. of her, she punished the whole island, by covering it with a mist, so that all who attempted to carry Ne'er shall she leave that lowly ground, on any commerce with it, either never arrived at | Till notes of triumph bursting round it, but wandered up and down the sea, or were on
Proclajm her reign restor'd : a suddeq wrecked upon its cliffs,
Till William seek the sad retreat,
And, bleeding at her sacred feet,
So long, regardful of thy quiet rule, Present the sated sword.
Shall Fancy, Friendship, Science, smiling Peace, If, weak to soothe so soft an heart,
Thy gentlest influence own,
And love thy favourite name!
ODE TO PEACE.
Othou, who bad'st thy turtles bear The Muse shall still, with social grief,
Swift from his grasp thy golden hair, Her gentlest promise keep:
And sought'st thy native skies : E'en humble Harting's cottag'd vale
When War, by vultures drawn from far, Shall learn the sad repeated tale,
To Britain bent his iron car,
And bade his storms arise!
Our youth shall fix some festive day,
His sullen shrines to burn :
And gain thy blest return!
O Peace, thy injur'd robes up-bind!
The British lion, goddess sweet,
Lies stretch'd on earth to kiss thy feet,
But come to grace thy western isle,
By warlike Honour led! As oft he rises 'midst the twilight path,
And, while around her ports rejoice,
With him for ever wed!
AN ODE. For when thy folding-star arising shows
Farewell, for clearer ken design'd; His paly circlet, at his warning lamp
The dim-discover'd tracts of mind : The fragrant hours, and elves
Truths which, from action's paths retir'd, Who slept in buds the day,
My silent search in vain requir'd! And many a nymph who wreathes her brows with No more my sail that deep explores, sedge,
No more I search those magic shores, And sheds the freshening dew, and lovelier still,
What regions part the world of soul, The pensive pleasures sweet
Or whence thy streams, Opinion, roll:
If e'er I round such fairy field,
At which the wizard passions fly,
By which the giant follies die ! By thy religious gleams.
Farewell the porch, whose roof is seen, Or if chill blastering winds, or driving rain,
Arch'd with th' enlivening olive's green; Prevent my willing feet, be mine the but,
Where Science, prank'd in tissued rest, That from the mountain's side
By Reason, Pride, and Fancy drest, Views wilds and swelling floods,
Comes like a bride, so trim array'd,
To wed with doubt in Plato's shade! And hamlets brown, and dim-discover'd spires,
Youth of the quick uncheated sight, And hears their simple bell, and marks o'er all
Thy walks, Observance, more invite ! Thy dewy fingers draw
O thou, wbu lov’st that ampler range, The gradual dusky veil.
Where life's wide prospects round thee change, While Spring shall pour his showers, as oft he wont, And, with ber mingled sons ally'd, And bathe thy breathing tresses, meekest Eve! Throw'st the prattling page aside : While Summer loves to sport
To me in converse sweet impart, Beneath thy lingering light:
To read in man the native heart, While salļow Autumn fills thy lap with leaves, To learn, where Science sure is found, Or Winter, yelling through the troublous air, From Nature as she lives around : Affrights thy shrinking train,
And gazing oft her mirror true, And rudely rends thy robes.
By turns each shifting image view!
Till meddling Art's officious lore
Till once, 't is said, when all were fir'd, Reverse the lessons taught before,
Fillid with fury, rapt, inspir'd, Alluring from a safer rule,
From the supporting myrtles round
They snatch'd her instruments of sound,
Sweet lessons of her forceful art,
Each, for madness rul'd the hour, As Fancy breathes her potent spell,
Would prove his own expressive power. Not vain she finds the charmful task,
First Fear his hand, its skill to try, In pageant quaint, in motley mask,
Amid the chords bewilderd laid, Behold, before her musing eyes,
And back recoil'd, he knew not why, The countless Manners round her rise;
E'en at the sound himself had made. While, erer varying as they pass,
Next Anger rush'd, his eyes on fire, To some Contempt applies her glass :
In lightnings own'd bis secret stings,
In one rude clash he struck the lyre,
And swept with hurried hand the strings.
With woful measures wan DespairThou by the passions nursd; I greet
Low sullen sounds his grief beguild, The comic sock that binds thy feet!
A solemn, strange, and mingled air, O Humour, thou whose name is known
'T was sad by fits, by starts 't was wild. To Britain's favour'd isle alone :
But thou, O Hope, with eyes so fair, Me too amidst thy band admit,
What was thy delighted measure ? There where the young-ey'd healthful Wit,
Still it whisper'd promis'd pleasure, (Whose jewels in his crisped hair
And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail ! Are plac'd each other's beams to share,
Still would her touch the strain prolong, Whom no delights from thee divide)
And from the rocks, the woods, the vale, In laughter loos'd attends thy side!
She call’d on Echo still through all the song ; By old Miletus' who so long
And where her sweetest theme she chose, Has ceas'd bis love-inwoven song :
A soft responsive voice was heard at every close, By all you taught the Tuscan maids,
And Hope enchanted smil'd, and wav'd her golden In chang'd Italia's modern shades :
hair. By him, whose knight's distinguish'd name
And longer had she sung-but, with a frown, Refind a nation's lust of fame;
Revenge impatient rose, Whose tales e'en now, with echoes sweet,
He threw his blood-stain'd sword in thunder down, Castilia's Moorish hills repeat:
And, with a withering look,
Aud blew a blast so loud and dread,
Were ne'er prophetic sound so full of woe. By virtues in her sire betray'd ;
And ever and anon he beat O Nature boon, from whom proceed
The doubling drum with furious beat; [tween, Each forceful thought, each prompted deed; And though sometimes, each dreary pause beIf but from thee I hope to feel,
Dejected Pity at his side On all my heart imprint thy seal !
Her soul-subduing voice applied, Let some retreating Cynic find
Yet still he kept his wild unalter'd inien, Those oft-turu'd scrolls I leave behind,
While each strain'd ball of sight seem'd bursting The Sports and I this hour agree
from his head. To rove thy scene-full world with thee!
Thy numbers, Jealousy, to nought were fix'd,
Sad proof of thy distressful state,
And now it courted Love, now raving call’d on
With eyes up-rais'd, as one inspird,
And from her wild sequester'd seat,
In notes by distance made more sweet, Throng'd around ber magic cell,
Pour'd through the mellow horn her pensive soul: Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting,
And dasbing soft from rocks around, Possest beyond the Muse's painting;
Bubbling runnels join'd the sound; (stole, By turns they felt the glowing mind
Through glades and glooms the mingled measure Disturb'd, delighted, rais’d, refin'd.
Or o'er some haunted streams with fond delay,
Round an boly calm diffusing,
Love of peace, and lonely musing, Alluding to the Milesian Tales, some of the In hollow murmurs died away. earliest romances.
But, 0, how alter'd was its sprightlier tone! Cervantes.
When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest huo, 3 Monsieur Le Sage, author of the incomparable Her bow across her shoulder flung, Adventures of Gil Blas de Santillane, who died in Her buskins gemm'd with morning dew, Paris in the year 1745.
Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung,