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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 bad to form her infant mind.
Stern rugged Nurse! thy rigid lore
With patience many a year she bore:
What sorrow was, thou bad'st her know,
And from her own she learn'd to melt at others’ woe.

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 flatt’ring 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 rapt’rous thought profound,
And Melancholy, silent maid
With leaden eye, that loves the ground.
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!
Not in thy Gorgon terrors clad,
Nor circled with the vengeful band -
(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, wear,
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.

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Awakr, Eolian lyre awake,
And give to rapture all thy trembling strings,
*I'vom 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.

I. 2. • Oh! Sovereign of the willing soul, Parent of sweet and solemn-breathing airs, Enchanting shell! the sullen Cares, And frantic Passions hearthy soft controul. On Thracia's hills the Lord of War Has curb’d the fury of his car,

a When the Author first published this and the following Ode, he was advised, even by his friends, to subjoin some few explanatory notes; but he had too much respect for the understanding of his readers to take that liberty.

5The subject and simile, as usual with Pindar, are united. 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 diction and luxuriant harmony of numbers; and its more rapid and irresistible course, when swoln and hurried away by the conflict of tumultuous passions.

• Power of harmony to calm the turbulent sallies of the soul. The thoughts are borrowed from the first Pythian of Pindar.

And dropp'd his thirsty lance at thy command.
Perching on the sceptred hand
Of Jove, thy magic lulls the feather'd king
With ruffled plumes, and flagging wing:
Quench'd in dark clouds of slumber lie
The terror of his beak, and lightnings 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-crown'd 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:
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 sublime, that float upon the air,
In gliding state she wins her easy way:
O'er her warm cheek, and rising bosom, move
The bloom of young Desire, and purple light of Love.

II. 1.

* 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 giv'n 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.

* Power of harmony to produce all the graces of motion in the body.

*To compensate the real and imaginary ills of life, the Muse was given to mankind by the same Providence that sends the day by its cheerful presence to dispel the gloom and terrors of the night.

II. 2.

* In climes beyond the solar road, Where shaggy forms o'er ice-built mountains roam, The Muse has broke the twilight-gloom - To cheer the shivering native's dull abode. And oft, beneath the od’rous shade Of Chili's boundless forests laid, She deigns to hear the savage youth repeat In loose numbers wildly sweet Their feather-cinctur'd chiefs, 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.

s Woods, that wave o'er Delphi's steep, Isles that crown th’AEgean deep, Fields, that cool Ilissus laves, Or where Maeander's amber waves In lingering lab’rinths creep, How do your tuneful echoes languish, Mute, but to the voice of Anguish 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.

f Extensive influence of poetic genius over the remotest and most uncivilized nations: its connexion with liberty, and the virtues that naturally attend on it. [See the Erse, Norwegian, and W. Fragments, the Lapland and American songs.

#2. of poetry from Greece to Italy, and from Italy to England. Chaucer was not unacquainted with the writings of Dante or of Petrarch. The Earl of Surry, and Sir Thomas Wyatt had travelled in Italy, and formed their taste there; Spenser imitated the Italian writers; Milton improved on them : but this school expired soon after the Restoration, and a new one arose on the French model, which has subsisted ever since.

III. 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 smil’d.
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, -
Orope the sacred source of sympathetic tears.

III. 2.

Nor second he, that rode sublime Upon the seraph-wings of Extasy, 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, Clos'd his eyes in endless night. Behold, where Dryden's less presumptuous car, Wide o'er the fields of Glory bear Two coursers of ethereal race, With necks in thunder cloth'd and long-resounding pace.

III. 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

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* Shakspeare. i Milton.

* We have had in our language no other odes of the sublime kind, than that of Dryden, on St. Cecilia's Day: for Cowley (who had his merit) yet wanted judgment, style, and harmony for such a task. That of Pope is not worthy of so great a man. Mr. Mason, indeed, of late days has touched the true chords, and with a masterly hand, in some of his choruses—above all in the last of Caractacus,

Hark! heard ye not yon footstep dread? &c.

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