ODE I TO THE LYRE.
Auditis? An me ludit amabilis
Insania? Audire et videor pios
Errare per lucos, amoenae
Quas et aquae subeunt et aurae!
HOR.
OH blest of heaven, sweet shell, whose soul
Thy ardors fire, thy charms control!
Him not Ambition's trophied car
Shall thro' the purple plain of war
Betray to where the giddy steep
Of Power o'erhangs the raging deep.
Him not the noisy bar entice
To sell his fury and his lies.
His treasures o'er the watry way,
While all his hopes and fears obey
The fickle wind's malignant sway.
But crowned with peace and moderate pleasure,
His days shall pass in lettered leisure;
In turning oft the classic page,
Warm with the Muse's lovely rage;
Where Fancy feigns what Sense approves,
Where Wisdom idles with the Loves;
Of genius where the flame divine
Blazes in Truth's irradiate shrine.
Oh blest of heaven, sweet shell, whose soul
Thy ardors fire, thy charms control!
For him o'er Nature's varied frame
aBright Beauty spreads her fairest flame;
With life instinct and harmony
The universe salutes his eye.
To thy enchanting measures, lo!
Each mountain bends his awful brow,
The wandering streams no longer stray,
Or tune to thine their flowing lay;
A deeper murmur breathes along
The mansions of the warbling throng;
From storms released the placid main
Spreads to the sun his shining reign;
The gales shed roses as they fly:
Responsive to thy breathing strings
The golden harp empyrial rings
That tuned by Order's mighty hand
Controls great Nature's general band:
The Parent from her sovereign throne
With rapture hears thy magic tone,
And bids her realm thy living fire
Confess in fair symphonious choir.
Oh blest of heaven, sweet shell, whose soul
Thy ardors fire, thy charms control!
Thy weeping strain if Sorrow chill,
Delusive cares the bosom fill;
The sighs of grief thy call obey,
The tears of beauty own thy sway,
As to the tale of love's sweet woe,
In silent sympathy they flow.
If Wit the sprightly carol play,
The Thoughts, in conscious freedom gay,
Bright to the laughing eye of day
Their variable plumes display,
And dancing to the merry lay,
Thro' flowery vales of transport stray.
When fury fires thy sacred frame,
All nature feels the thrilling flame;
See at thy voice pale lightnings gleam,
The clouds release their wintry stream;
Riding the gloom on whirlwind wing,
Wild shrieks the tempest's angry king.
[Page 48]While fang nine steams and shadows dun
Defraud the splendor of the sun,
And bursting rocks with hideous noise
Hurtle amid the flaming skies,
Redundant o'er the cavern hoar
The fierce volcano's torrents roar,
Confounding in their ruddy flood
The fertile vale and solemn wood;
In vain the city's towery pride,
To stem the tempest of the tide,
Extends a lofty strength of wall—
These shrieks of death confess its fall;
Destruction o'er the scenes of joy
Waves his black wings with sullen cry,
Till thundering o'er the boundless steep,
The fiery streams invade the deep.
The pilot by the ghastly light
Sees boiling waves around him fight,
And wheeling swift the rapid prore,
With horror flies the fatal shore.
The noble deed, the great desire,
Thy glowing modes, O harp, inspire,
Then consecrate to deathless fame
The light of each peculiar name.
At thy command the host again
Appear on glory's ample plain,
The virtue of thy potent strain
Gives vital vigor to the slain.
Again the battle's fervor glows,
Again the flood of slaughter flows,
The beauteous order of the war,
Till Victory soar on eagle plume,
And chaunt the doubtful conflict's doom.
Oh blest of heaven, sweet shell, whose soul
Thy ardors fire, thy charms control!
Where'er he rolls his ardent eyes
Visions of fairy splendor rise;
Bright forms that only live in rime
Obedient hear thy rapturous chime.
True sire of gods! each deity
bDerives his life and power from thee;
No progeny of chaos fell
But of thy all creating spell.
Imperial Jove in verse alone
Expands the thunders of his throne:
In verse majestic Juno moves,
Blest with the girdle of the Loves:
In verse green Neptune own the waves:
In verse the lord of battle raves:
In verse the smile of Venus glows
The vermil lustre of the rose
*;
In verse her lovely eyes diffuse
Their kindling beams and melting dews:
Aims at the heart his shafts of fire:
In verse grim Pluto's laws maintain
The horrors of the infernal reign:
In verse the nectared blossoms shine,
That crown the jovial power of wine:
In verse Pan rules the woodland gloom:
In verse the charms of Hebe bloom:
In verse Minerva's eyes display
The mildness of their azure ray:
In verse stern Dian leads her train
Thro' the wild wood and echoing plain:
In verse the bard still tends the shrine
Of bright Apollo and the Nine.
Begone, ye faded Pageants, fly!
Lo Time resumes his ancient sky!
And drives you to the gloomy void,
With Dulness ever to reside:
There, thro' the brooding mist is seen
The Aonian mount's fantastic green;
And Helicon devolves his flood
Thro' flowery weeds and glittering mud.
But see what numerous tribes advance
To fill the Muse's wide expanse!
The genuine birth of Nature kind
By Fancy nurtur'd in the mind
c.
Grandeur conducts her awful legion.
Beneath her streaming banners glow
The starry wreath of Glory's brow;
Heroic Virtue's myrtled sword,
The prize of Freedom's rights restored;
The pomp of War, the blazing car
That Triumph's snow-white coursers bear;
There Extacy, prophetic maid,
Her eyes on heaven's high splendor stayed:
Oh Terror from the startled gaze
Conceal thy flaming faulchion's blaze!
What shape is he in torn array
That rends his locks of hoary grey,
Whose plaint that mournful virgin hears,
And pays her tributary tears?
Fair Pity's gems you falling spy
To grace the tale of Misery.
Her blooming band next Beauty leads,
Exulting o'er the fragrant meads;
Where'er she bends her genial view,
The sky reveals a purple hue;
Variety precedes, and Mirth,
Spangling with flowers the vernal earth.
Unnumbered Graces tend her path,
Unnumbered Airs of balmy breath:
Delighted Health and warbling Chear,
And Jest and Dalliance are there;
With Modesty, that maiden meek,
The warm blush quivering o'er her cheek;
And Rapture pours her swelling song;
There Dance, to the airy lute of Leisure
Distends involves her sportive measure;
There Hope, her brows with rose-buds bound;
And Peace with oaten garland crown'd:
While Laughter down the bordering stream
With Humour steers her gondeley trim
*,
At each new wile and antic lore
Her shouts of transport shake the shore:
Science, that youth of pensive mien,
Peruses slow the velvet green;
Allied with Taste, his lovely bride,
And Liberty, their daring guide.
Oh blest of heaven, sweet shell, whose soul
Thy ardors fire, thy charms control!
What joys invade his fervent breast
By gentlest frenzy when possest!
When the celestial transports bold
Of harmony his thoughts enfold,
Emparadise in tuneful slumbers,
Or give to flow in vivid numbers!
Lord of my birth-! Creative lyre!
Timid I wake thy holy fire:
No balmy gales, no vocal springs
Here live to sooth thy languid strings:
Soon fade the wreaths the Pleasures bear
To deck the tresses of the Year;
[Page 53]O'er the young Spring's untimely urn
The Loves and weeping Graces mourn:
Eternal Winter chills the stream
Of life, and clouds the extatic dream.
O who will bear me to some clime
*That breathes its sweets in ancient rime!
Where softer breezes fan the skies
As suns of brighter beam arise:
Where the glad Hours of Summer build
Their tents in every joyous field;
Then lead their brisk bands to deform
The castle of the tyrant Storm,
And captive to their empire bring
In roseate chains the grizly king.
Lo Fancy hears the hopeless prayer!
The winds her flying car prepare:
And now we sail the wondering air,
And now the blooming shores appear,
The native countries of each art
That elevates the brightened heart.
Here Athens reared her awful fanes;
There Thebes governed the watry plains;
Eurotas still his circuit runs,
But bathes no more stern Sparta's sons:
Behold Arcadia's fabled vale,
The theme of each love dirtied tale;
Now Desolation spreads her rule
O'er each green mead and grotto cool.
Ye streams that deck each lucid field,
Where Asia's dusky race digest
The health and spirit of the west,
Ye deeps with many a gem embost,
How are your sacred honours lost!
No longer ye to rapture hear
The Nine
† that wont your realms to chear.
Far other notes your gales bestow!
Far other notes, of want and woe!
The fay with tears resigns the scene,
And backward bends her speedy rein
To where Ausonia's breezes pure
And summer vales her steps allure;
The hills with blushing vines arrayed,
The fragrance of her orange shade;
The golden ensigns that adorn
The tuneful march of radiant Morn;
The beril blaze of noontide heaven
‡,
The crimson bowers of modest Even.
'Here,' Fancy cries, 'I reigned of yore
'What time I fled the Grecian shore,
'With joy this fair retreat I found,
'And blessed the consecrated ground.
'I said, its airy pride shall rear;
'Where Freedom and my child the Muse
'Their amiable court shall chuse.
'To her, my darling care, shall rise
'A lofty dome of Doric guise,
'Whence to her chosen sops she may
'Dispense the treasures of the lay:
'While he from all intruding powers
'Shall vindicate our hallowed towers.
'I spoke. Obedient to my call
'Rose like a flame the crystal wall:
'Celestial shapes on pinions fleet
'Peopled each pearl paven street,
'While symphonies from harps unseen
'Warbled along the blue serene.
'Far in the midst the golden hue
'Of Fame's bright temple smote the view,
'The keys that oped the portal blest
'Impartial Genius possess'd.
'Here long I held my wide command,
'Till came the Father of the Land,
'A guest who oft had graced our scene,
'Of eagle eye and princely mein,
'Now down his beard of silver dye
'The dews of grief were seen to hie.
'Fly hence, he cries, Oh empress fly!
'The rivals of your throne are nigh,
'Of Tyranny the savage train
'And Superstition seek your reign;
[Page 56]'This province of their rule they w
[...] 'In vain ye stem the tide of Fate!
'Freedom undaunted heard the strain,
'And soaring sought the British plain,
'By firm decree of ruling Heaven
'To his perpetual scepter given.
'With speed I traced his daring flight,
'Forgetful of our chief delight,
'The Muse, amid dark peril left,
'Of all our parent aids bereft.
'Soon I described my former way
'Intent to find the lonely fay:
'What wonder filled my eager breast
'In weeds when I beheld her drest,
'Hid in a veil her front of snow,
'And muttering o'er the beaded row!
'With sighs I said, alas, my child,
'Give to the wind these garments wild;
'From Superstition's chains arise,
'And mingle with thy native skies.
'Parent, the nun demure replied,
'Repentant of my ancient pride,
'And license, here I mean to stay
' [...]ll Fate allot a better day.
' [...] [...]ove in vain to chase the gloom,
' [...] last resolved to share her doom.
' [...] haunts our plodding steps decoy,
' [...] from the busy scenes of joy:
'To the cold moon orisons paid,
'Defrauded of each social tie,
'The weeping spouse of Misery.
'The dim cathedral's holy calm,
'Where organs swell the solemn psalm▪
'As on the walls with ruddy gleam
'The sun exalts his setting stream.
'The hermitage embosomed deep
'Amid the pine benighted steep,
'Where falling floods with hideous shock
'To horror wake each listening rock,
'Till far immerst with feeble wail
'They wander thro' the dreary vale.
'Science at length disclosed her spring,
'And pruned anew our drooping wing,
'Again we fanned the buxom air,
'Chaunting our native carols clear.
'Awhile the woods of Provence wild,
'And sunny fields, our paths beguiled,
'To prompt the heroes fire our care,
'Or paint the graces of the fair;
'Awhile the balmy bowers that hide
'The warbled maze of Arno's tide:
'Ere Britain's breezy lawns we trode;
'Britain our last and best abode.
Queen of the lyre! by every grace
That gave to fame thy Attic race,
By all the flowers thy fostering gales
Reared to the sun in Latian vales,
By all the visions that extolled
The fiery minds of Albion old,
Yet deign to hear a British strain!
Yet deign to bless a British swain!
The fount of melody to lead
Now thro' the gay enameled mead,
Where smiling Beauty loves to lave
Her charms amid the orient wave
Impart; now by the lonely cell,
Where Solitude and Science dwell;
Now o'er the heights of Grandeur rude
To pour the long resounding flood;
Now by the city's peopled way
The liquid mirror to convey,
Reflecting in its pure recess
Each scene of Art and Happiness.
Ye few, whose burning soul of song
Exempts you from the modern throng;
Who tune to bliss the warbling lyre,
Receive me to your sacred choir!
Be far ye dissonant profane!
Ye sullen progeny of Gain,
Of Luxury ye offspring vile,
Who scorn the Muse's lovely toil.
Be folly held for ye are blind?
Tho' Ignorance breath her iron cloud
The Muse's blaze from you to shroud,
Yet pours she on the favoured fight
The golden stream of life and light;
To Nature lends her radiant ray,
And opes her worlds of purer day,
To bless the man, swcet shell, whose soul
Thy ardors fire, thy charms control.
ODE III. THE LANDSCAPE.
FROM off his gay embroidered bed.
The Majesty of Day
Rearing aloft his golden head
Ensued his radiant way.
As on he drove his flaming wain,
Young Smiles and Pleasures graced his train,
While, drizzling balmy dew,
The clouds along the sapphire plain
In wandering fleeces flew.
The hoary turret's ivy'd cell
The guest of June
* resigned,
Mazing along the sunny dell
Her fleeting prey to find;
Skimming the lake with jetty wing,
Spangled with many a lucid ring
Amid the watery sky,
As oft its sportive race would spring
To snatch the falling fly.
The love lorn linnet left the spray
To sip the dewey flower,
But feeling soon the fervid ray,
Regain'd her bosky bower.
O'er every mountain, grove, and mead
Summer's luxuriant hand had spread
Her richest, gayest pride;
Each happy stream in cadence led
His music murmuring tide.
When lo! dim shades the west gan rove
With sable march and still;
Dark grows the mead, and dark the grove,
And dark the frowning hill.
Where'er the wanton Breezes bright
On musky pinion fluttered light,
Now steers his grizzly form,
By Ruin traced and wild Affright,
The Anarch of the storm.
In sweepy showers the clouds descend;
Sore sighs the afflicted air,
As thro' the night red thunders rend,
And sheety lightnings glare.
With fires embattled blasts engage;
The kingly tower, whose awful age
Governed the subject plain,
Now vanquished by their ruthless rage,
Deforms his dreary reign.
O why withstand the waste of Time,
Why scorn his sovereign sway?
To sink beneath the ruder clime,
The ruin of a day!
Ye drooping flowers why did ye bloom?
Ye hills, ye groves, O why assume
Your verdant royalty?
Ye meads why breathed ye fragrant fume
Before a blast to fly!
Yet cease, the vain complaint refrain,
See smiling Noon relume
With purple glance the painted plain,
And gild the mountain's gloom.
Such is the day man's line enjoy.
Oft silent Sorrows them decoy
Fair Pleasure's veil below;
And oft a sweetly tranquil Joy
Assumes the guise of Woe.
The sun that sets in gold arrayed
May spring in gloom forlorn;
The sun whose fires in tempest fade
With smiles may wake the morn.
'Tis heaven's to read the fated sky;
'Tis ours the present good to ply,
Nor dread the approaching shower:
Since Pleasures while they frolic fly,
Ah seize the sunshine hour!
ODE VI. THE PROPHECY OF TWEED.
WHAT time the speed of terror bore
High Edward from the Scotian shore,
And Bruce's fatal sword;
How fallen from his proud desire!
How taught that power and regal tire
No shield from Fate afford!
Convened in solemn state
Each ancient River met,
Whose hallowed waters grace the victor land,
To gratulate the Tweed
From fear of bondage freed.
He in his cell received the welcome band:
Gems of each ray around his throne,
Rich ores, and painted shells, in rural lustre shone.
His hand a pastoral reed possessed;
His hoary beard adown his breast
In silver mazes flowed:
His brows a spangled fillet bound
Of flowrets from the verdant mound
That holds his fair abode.
There kingly Forth was seen,
His robe of wavy green
[Page 69]With gold embroidered glittered in the gale:
There Tay's majestic pride;
Stern Dee and gentle Clyde;
There the generous lord of Teviot's fertile vale;
The ruler wild of Devon's stream,
And every brother flood of less resounded fame.
When rising from his lofty seat
Their host displayed his front elate,
And thus awaked their joy:
'Attend what our indulgent sire,
'Old Ocean, with prophetic fire,
'Late gave me to desery.
'Short space the crime of War
'No more our realm shall mar,
'No more shall blood our crystal eddies stain:
'No more the ghastly gleam
'Of town or castle's flame:
'No more our echoes shrieks of woe detain.
'The shepherd's happy strain alone
'Or maiden's lovelorn plaint our willing ear shall own.
'Tho' long the night, tho' rough the main,
'The ship a happy port shall gain,
'The golden morn arise.
'The cloud with thunder fraught that seems
'And baleful lightning's wasting beams
'The stores of spring supplies.
'Our bowery shades among
'Shall Peace her hymn prolong,
[Page 70]'As with chearful care she guides the woolly breed:
'Or nurse the genial grain
'That gilds each fruitful plain:
'Or thro' the garden our gay fountains lead;
'Where by their winding mirror clear
'Proud domes of Attic art their solemn state shall rear.
'For on my verdant banks shall stand
'The Guardian of each rival land,
'And former deeds disprove:
'To Liberty a shrine shall rise,
'Where both their ire shall sacrifice,
'And vow perpetual love.
'Hail, Britain! hail. Thy reign
'No limits shall restrain.
'Thro' towers of thine shall wondering Ganges roll:
'His elephant and ore
'Shall heap thy wealthier shore.
'Climes yet unknown thy sovereign arms control.
'Hail, mighty Britain! hail. Thy reign
'While Ocean shall assert, no limits shall restrain.
ODE VIII. THE CRADLE OF SHAKESPEAR.
‘ [...]. HOM. hymn. ad Mercur.’
CHILD of wonder! Child of wonder
*!
Monarch of the feeling heart!
Wielder wild of Terror's thunder,
Pleasure's flame, and Pity's dart!
When thou wert born the queen of night
In silence shed her lovely light;
While every minim of the green
To share thy smiles forsook her sheen,
Forsook the grove, forsook the glade
To find the cot where thou wert laid:
There dancing o'er the hallowed hearth,
Each blessed by turns thy sacred birth.
'Lo' Ariel cried, 'a tender tale
†'Coned from a dying nightingale,
The melting bliss of sadness bearing,
'Save I for thy infant hearing;
[Page 74]'The sigh of love, the plaint of care,
'The piercing accents of despair.
'I will guide thy step ere long
'Where the red-breast lisps her song
'To Pity's ear: and when the blast
'Desolates the howling waste,
'We will seek the rocky cell
'Where giant Horror loves to dwell,
'Listening to the dismal roar
'Of waves that dash the savage shore,
'Or shrieks of death that float afar
'From the sanguine plain of war,
'Where Slaughter spurs in furious mood
'His sable steed, besmeared with blood,
'Thro' files that strive, thro' files that fly
'With wings of dread, or daring die;
'Till from his loud trump Rage supply
'The lofty peal of victory,
'And Fear, astonied at the sound,
'Hurries from the horrid bound,
'Her haggard glance reverting still
'As Danger rears his outcry shrill.
'Then thro' the bleak air will we sally
'To where amid some murky valley,
'White with bones of mortals slain
'By pining grief or racking pain,
'The weird sisters weave the spell
'That thrills the latent powers of hell,
'Who rising from the molten mound,
'With sullen darkness circled round,
'To fill the beldams deadly hate.
'Yet tho' fell Envy should call forth
'Her blacker brood that prey on worth,
'And Censure point with leering eye
'The path that leads to infamy,
'Their clouds unblest shall swell in vain
'To check the lustre of thy reign,
'Maintained by every victor art
'That chills the soul, or charms the heart.
'Such powers I give. Successive days
'Shall add new verdure to the bays
'That from malevolent dews shall shade
'The sacred honours of thy head.
'While Nature holds her league with Time,
'Thro' every period, every clime,
'Never shalt thou and Glory sander,
'Child of wonder! Child of wonder!
'Behold,' said Florimel, 'I bring
*'Each flower that gratulates the Spring,
'All on the verdant banks that beam
'Of lonely Avon's azure stream,
'With roses from the Pestan thore
‡'Wrapt in a veil that Beauty wore.
'Joys that carol, Sports that stray
'O'er laughing Pleasure's primrose way,
'Here to your bard due homage pay—
'Avaunt, avaunt!' in sullen tone
Rose the dread voice of Oberon,
'With brighter tints thy morn I varnish
*,
'Prouder spoils thy cradle garnish.
'Let others, borne on leaden plume,
'Sail thro' Oblivion's silent gloom,
'Or haply catching Fortune's gale,
'The golden dawn of Fame assail;
'Tis thine along the desert sky
†'On lightning's wing of fire to fly;
'From Fancy's store give Nature laws
'While raptured nations weep applause:
"Child of wonder! Child of wonder!
"Monarch of the feeling heart!
"Wielder wild of Terror's thunder,
"Pleasure's flame, and Pity's dart!"
ODE X. L'OZIOSO.
BEGONE, away,
Ye serpent brood of gloomy Care,
No longer bar the path to Pleasure's bower.
Begone, away,
To Avarice's castle bare,
Or the more gaudy domes of Pride and Power.
As on this bank diffused I lie,
While Summer deals her stores around,
My tiny harp depending nigh
Chaunts to the gale's amusive sound
Unbidden airs that bathe my breast
O Indolence! in thy sweet dream.
With joy I urge the pleasing theme
In thy enchanting influence blest:
With love thy dearest gifts reveal.
They best can paint who best can feel.
Parent of every virtue hail!
Nor smile that I this title owe,
For from thy silent fountain flow
All streams that deck this desert vale.
The hero's toil, the patriot's care
And all the race of Labour fair,
[Page 79]Where tend they, save beneath thy sway
The evening of a boisterous day
To render to their weary lord?
Blest to thy peaceful port to sail,
And make his former woes a tale,
To pleasure and to thee restored.
And happy did thy wide command
Yet wider territories own;
That every wretch whose restless hand
Spreads ruin thro' a blooming land
To gain a halter or a crown,
From Industry's emotions free,
Had been with Sleep or been with thee!
Still where the blessed Muse is seen
Thy careless step will not be far,
For with thee she delights to play:
With thee she leaves the tainted reign
Of proud Ambition's evil star,
And Wealth's tumultuary fray.
She leaves their sad society,
Where all the flowers Variety
In Pleasure's garden can disclose
Are blasted by Satiety:
And Languor and Anxiety,
Tho' banded guards in vain oppose,
Their melancholy progress steal
To where the potent calls on Rest,
And in his downy couch conceal
Their thorns that rend the feeble breast.
With thee my visionary hours
Now trace the consecrated grove
Of Science; now at random rove
Along the Muse's blissful vale.
With care they crop the Attic flowers,
And in a vase of British frame
Present them to the shrine of Fame.
Even her, the Muse, I second call
To thee, Oh empress! tho' inclined
By her dear aid the mines to find
Of mighty Nature's unsun'd gold,
And stamp with Art's creating mold;
Yet to thy will obedient I
From the delightful labour fly,
The Muse's joy, the Muse's care,
But serve thy slumbers to endear.
When bounteous Summer's golden key
Unlocks the treasures of the year,
Then, queen of pleasures, led by thee,
Me let my musing footsteps bear
Thro' all the scenes of nature free,
The wild, the grand, the soft, the fair.
Now to the verdant champain where
Some ancient mount his royalty
Exalts above the subject lee,
While clad in solar splendor clear
The variegated scenes appear.
To port along the azure sea,
Their swelling pride gay galleys steer,
Where glittering towers their glory rear,
The mazes of a river err.
Low in the sullen heath afar
A silver lake's bright purity
Reflects the sapphire canopy;
And distant music charms the ear,
Sent from the woodland minstrelsy.
Then to the villa's rural mound,
Where Nature reigns by Splendor crowned:
The florid garden's balmy scene,
Amid whose shady alleys green
The tread of Science oft is seen,
When Eve, that lovely nun serene,
Forsakes her western cell to shower
Fresh dews o'er every sleeping flower;
And to her star's resplendent ray
The thrush devotes her farewel lay.
But when arrayed in splendor wan,
Wild Winter holds his savage sway,
Add fuel to the fading fire,
Nor heed the storm's destructive ire,
While Indolence governs the day,
And laughs at Sorrow's evil train.
Bring every sage of useful lore,
Bring every bard of magic power
With living numbers to control
Each movement of the raptured soul.
The treasures of the Latian pair,
The awful strain of Milton bold,
And Tasso's wanton carol fair,
Whose crown shall equal Spenser share.
Bring father Shakespeare's native lay,
And sly Fontaine, and Moliere gay,
Nor leave the lord of lyric fame,
Grave Pindar, nor the Teian son,
Nor what the page of Sappho lone
Yet breathes of love's delusive flame.
Be here the bards of latest days,
Like planets who by borrow'd rays
Shine thro' the Muse's present night
With feeble, yet with lovely light.
The classic page of moral Gray,
The portrait of the varied year,
And, Indolence, thy castle dear,
The vein of Akenside display,
And his who decked the parrot's bier
*.
The tender scene of Hume be nigh,
To wake the sympathetic sigh;
Of Maffei, and the Roman sire
†,
Heir of the Attic art and sire.
The chosen band let Fielding join,
That minstrel sweet of skill divine,
And ope the fountains of the heart.
And here the rival of his throne
Be Smollet, Humour's genuine son.
But why the countless stores relate
That Science to her votary lends?
Even the vain pageants of her state
With joy keen Ridicule attends.
Philosophers in Folly's tire,
Who study much to be unwise,
And bards who from their opiate lyre
Deal slumbers to the hearers eyes.
O times! when oft the torpid strain
The ghastly shades of Nonsense stain,
While thro' the gloom false beauties tread,
Like glow-worms thro' the midnight mead.
The genuine births of art how rare!
And in their stead what shapes appear!
Gay Tragedies in Grecian pall,
Scenes that sleep, and songs that brawl:
Sad Comedies, that teach to weep,
With wit so thin and plot so deep:
While Elegy, with pulpit nod,
Starts up a sable man of God,
And Ode, his sullen clerk below,
Hums the rueful ditty slow;
With tinsel prankt his tattered suit,
And flowrets innocent of fruit.
What joys are thine, queen of my song!
The voice of Music, Painting's hand—
All arts confess thy soft command;
Their treasures all to thee belong.
O ever let me live with thee,
From care and toil and sorrow free;
And when the Muse partakes the day,
Brief be the magic of her sway.
Ah far remove the hated praise
Of many folio-volumed lays:
Be mine to build the slender RIME,
That haply down the stream of time
With tuneful oar and spangled sail
May move to Fame's indulgent gale.
Yet, yet, dread Power, O, ere confest
Thy influence now invades my breast,
Yet hear me. Ah in vain * * * * *
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