« ForrigeFortsett »
Qi'w.s of my songs, harmonious maid, Ah why hast thou withdrawn thy aid r Ah why forsaken thus my breast With inauspicious damps oppress'd? Where is the dread prophetic heat, With which my bosom wont to beat? Where all the bright mysterious dreams Of haunted groves and tuneful streams, That woo'd my genius to divincst themes?
Say, goddess, can the festal board,
0 powerful strain, O sacred soul!
1 hail'd the fair immortal guest, When first she seal'd me for her own, Made all her blissful treasures known, And bade me swear to follow her alone.
ODE XI. ON LOVE.—TO A FRIEND.
No, foolish youth—to virtuous fame
If true ambition's nobler flame
Command thy footsteps from the crowd,
Lean not to Love's enchanting snare;
His songs, his words, his looks beware, Nor join his votaries, the young and fair.
By thought, by dangers, and by toils, The wreath of just Renown is worn;Nor will Ambition's awful spoils The flowery pomp of Ease adom: But Love unbends the force of thought; By Ix>vc unmanly fears are taught; And Love's reward with gaudy Sloth is bought.
Yet thou hast read in tuneful lays, And heard from many a zealous breast, The pleasing tale of Beauty's praise In Wisdom's lofty language dress'd;Of Beauty, powerful to impart Each finer sense, each comclier art, And soothe and polish man's ungentle heart.
If then, from Love's deceit secure,
Thus far alone thy wishes tend,
On Delia's vernal walk descend:
Attend, while that harmonious tongue
0 Delia, win my thoughts to thine; That half the colour of thy life is mine.
Yet, conscious of the dangerous charm,
Nor oft provoke the lovely harm,
But thou, my friend—I hear thy sighs:
Alas! I read thy downcast eyes;
So soon again to meet the fair?
So pensive all this absent hour r —O yet, unlucky youth, beware,
While yet to think is in thy power.
Once I remember, new to Love,
1 sought a gentle maid, to prove
What peaceful joys in friendship reipm;
Thus frequent pass'd the cloudless day.
One generous woman's real mind:Till Friendship soon my languid breast Each night with unknown cares possess'd,
Fool that I was!—And now, even now While thus I preach the Stoic strain,
ODE XII. TO SIR FRANCIS HENRY DRAKE, BART.
BrnnLD, the Balance in the sky
Swift on the wintry scale inclines; To earthy caves the Dryads fly,
And the bare pastures Pan resigns. Late did the farmer's fork o'crspread With recent soil the twice-mown mead,
Tainting the bloom which autumn knows: He whets the rusty coulter now, He binds his oxen to the plough,
And wide his future harvest throws.
ODES ON SEVERAL
Kow, London's husy confines round,
By Kensington's imperial towers,
Essexian heaths, or Kentish howers,
Hurried by senatorial cares:
Debate their dress, reform their airs.
Say, what can now the country hoast,
0 Drake, thy footsteps to detain, When peevish winds and gloomy frost
The sunshine of the temper stain?
Champions for George's legal right?
Each hold Wessexian 'squire and knight?
I douht it much; and guess at least
That when the day, which made us free, Shall next return, that sacred feast
Thou better may'st observe with me.
In that glad day's triumphal strain;
Of James or his ignoble reign.
Then, while the Gascon's fragrant wine
With modest cups our joy supplies,
Who bade the chief, the patriot rise;
From Belgium to her saviour son)
Her laws defac'd, her shrines o'crthrown.
He came. The tyrant from our shore,
Like a forbidden demon, fled; And to eternal exile hore
Pontine rage and vassal dread. There sunk the mouldering Gothic reign: New years came forth, a liberal train,
Call'd by the people's great decree. That day, my friend, let blessings crown: —Fill, to the demigod's renown
Fpim »horu thou hast that thou art free.
Then, Drake, (for wherefore should we part
The public and the private weal?)
Fair health, glad fortune, will we deal.
So eloquent in Daphne's smile,
Haply thy fancy then beguile.
For so it is. Thy stuhhorn hreast,
Hath no full conquest yet confess'd,
SUBJECTS. BOOK X. 105While I, a true and loyal swain,
Through all the varying seasons own.
Once more I join the Thespian choir,
Till now I spy her verdant seat:
1 see Anacreon smile and sing,
His silver tresses breathe perfume;
Of roses taught by wine to bloom.
Let me the wanton pomp enjoy,
Kind laughter and convivial joy.
Broke from the fetters of his native land,
Devoting shame and vengeance to her lords, With louder impulse and a threatening hand The Leshian patriot' smiles the sounding chords: Ye wretches, ye perfidious train, Ye curs'd of gods and free-horn 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.
But lo, to Sappho's melting airs
Descends the radiant queen of love:
Her suppliant's plaintive measures move:
Say, flies he ?—Soon he shall pursue:
And soon to all thy wishes how.
Bat, O Melpomene, for whom
Awakes thy golden shell again? What mortal breath shall e'er presume
To echo that unbounded strain?
For some there are, whose mighty frame
As eagles drink the noon-tide flame,
While the dim raven beats her weary wings, And clamours far below.—Propitious Muse, While I so late unlock thy purer springs, And breathe whate'er thy ancient airs infuse, Wilt thou for Albion's sons around (Ne'er hadst 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 return'd the vocal joy?
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 Heaven's unerring throne approve.
Queen of the lyre, in thy retreat
The fairest flowers of Pindus glow; The vine aspires to crown thy seat,
And myrtles round thy laurel grow:
Which mortal tribes were born to prove;
The ocean swells, the billows move.
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 opening ear, And ever watchful at thy side, Let Wisdom's awful suffrage guide
The tenour of thy lay: To her of old by Jove was given To judge the various deeds of Earth and Heaven; Twas thine by gentle arts to win us to her sway.
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, O 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.
When Friendship and when letter'd Mirth
Haply partake my simple board,
The music of the Teian chord.
That hear Olympia's gentle tongue;
There let the Sapphic lute be strung.
But when from Envy and from Death to claim
When to throw incense on the vestal flame
Nor Theban voice nor Lesbian lyre
From thee, O Muse! do I require;While my presaging mind,
Astonish'd grasps at things beyond her view,
FROM THE COUNTRY.
Sav, Townshend, what can Loudon boast
The health to day resign'd;
And met the western wind?
Oh! knew'st thou how the balmy air,
To heal thy languid frame;
Thy sacred leisure claim.
Oft I look'd forth, and oft admir'd }
I sought the open day;
And chide my tardy stay."
But, ah 1 in vain my restless feet
Which knew their forms of old:
Did now their rites unfold:
Whether to nurse some infant oak
Such rites, which they with Spring renew,
And care hath long been mine:
They hide their toils divine.
But soon shall thy enlivening tongue
With noble hope inspire:
And listen to my lyre.
ODES ON SEVERAL SUBJECTS. BOOK I.
Beneath yon Dryad's lonely shade
Of turf with laurel fram'd: And thou the inscription wilt approve; "This for the peace which, lost by Love, By Friendship was reclaim'd."
To Iocrt retir'd the queen of Heaven
With young Endymion strays:
0 Hesper! while the starry throng
So may the bridegroom's genial strain
Thee still invoke to shine:
With lustre pure as thine.
Far other vows must I prefer
To thy indulgent power,
Of Philomela's hower.
Propitions send thy golden ray,
Thou purest light ahove:
May soothe afflicted love.
To them, by many a grateful song
In happier seasons vow'd,
Beneath yon copses stood.
Nor seldom, where the heachen houghs
That roofless tower invade,
She fled the solemn shade.
But hark! I hear her liquid tone.
Now, Hesper, guide my feet Down the red marie with moss o'ergrown, Through yon wild thicket next the plain, Whose hawthorns choke the winding lane
Which leads to her retreat.
See the green space: on either hand
Enlarg'd it spreads around:
Enclos'd in woods profound.
Hark! how through many a melting note
She now prolongs her lays:
The wakeful heifers gaze.
Whoe'er thou art, whom chance may hring
To this sequester'd spot,
Of man's uncertain lot.
Oh! think, o'er all this mortal stage,
What mournful scenes arise:
How swiftly pleasure flies.
O sacred hird, let me at eve,
Thus wandering all alone,
Till I forget my own.
With sordid floods the wintry urni
Hath stain'd fair Richmond's level green: Her naked hill the Dryads mourn,
No longer a poetic scene.
From Hampstead's airy summit me,
What day the people's stem decree
When common men (the dread of Fame)
Adjudg'd as one of evil name,
Before the Sun, the anointed head.
Then seek thou too the pious town,
With no unworthy cares to crown
Deem not I call thee to deplore The sacred martyr of the day,
From heavenly wrath will save the land; Nor ask what rites our pardon Lain, Nor how his potent sounds restrain The thunderer's lifted hand.
No, Hardinge: peace to church and state!That evening, let the Muse give law: While I anew the theme relate
Which my first youth enamour'd saw.
O! vers'd in all the human frame,
And English Fancy's eager flame
While hand in hand, at Wisdom's shrine,
Beauty with Truth I strive to join, And grave assent with glad applause;
To paint the story of the soul,
And Plato's visions to control
Come then, tell me, sage divine,
Is it an offence to own
Toward immortal Glory's throne?
If to spurn at noble praise
Be the passport to thy Heaven, Follow thou those gloomy ways;No such law to me was given, Nor, I trust, shall I deplore me Faring like my friends before me; Nor an holier place desire Than Timoleon's arms acquire, And Tully's curnle chair, and Milton's golden lyre.
For, taught of Heaven, the sacred Nine
To mortal sense impart:
Nor less prevailing is their charm
The vengeful bosom to disarm;
To melt the proud with human woe,
And prompt unwilling tears to flow.
Can wealth a power like this afford?
Can Cromwell's arts, or Marlhorough's sword,
An equal empire claim? No, Hastings. Thou my words will own: Thy breast the gifts of every Muse hath known; Nor shall the giver's love disgrace thy nohle i
The 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 hower; Nor shall the servile no^es to Celtic kings
By flattering minstrels paid in evil hour,
To hear the sweet instructress tell
II. Such was the Chian father's strain
He struck his magic strings;
Now oft, where happy spirits dwell,
The seeds of Grecian fame:
O noblest, happiest age! When Aristides rul'd, and Cimon fought; When all the generous fruits of Homer's page Exulting Pindar saw to full perfection brought. O Pindar, oft shalt 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,