Still would her touch the strain prolong, A soft responsive voice was heard at ev'ry close; And Hope enchanted smil'd, and wav'd her golden hair. And longer had she sung-but with a frown He threw his blood-stain'd sword in thunder down, The war-denouncing trumpet took, And blew a blast so loud and dread, Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of woe. And ever and anon he beat The doubling drum with furious heat; And tho' sometimes, each dreary pause between, Dejected Pity at his side, Her soul-subduing voice apply'd, Yet still he kept his wild unalter'd mien, While each strain'd ball of sight seem'd bursting from his head. Thy numbers, Jealousy! to nought were fix'd; Of diff'ring themes the veering song was mix'd, And now it courted Love, now raving call'd on Hate. A With eyes up-rais'd, as one inspir'd, Pale Melancholy sat retir❜d, And from her wild sequester'd seat, In notes by distance made more sweet, Pour'd thro' the mellow horn her pensive soul: And dashing soft from rocks around Bubbling runnels join'd the sound; Thro' glades and glooms the mingled measure stole, Or o'er some haunted streams with fond delay, Round an holy calm diffusing, Love of peace and Ionely musing, In hollow murmurs dy'd away. But O! how alter'd was its sprightlier tone! Her buskins gemm'd with morning dew, Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung, The oak-crown'd sisters, and their chaste-ey'd queen, Satyrs and Sylvan boys were seen Peeping from forth their alleys green; Brown Exercise rejoic'd to hear, And Sport leapt up, and seiz'd his beechen spear. Last came Joy's ecstatic trial: He, with viny crown advancing, First to the lively pipe his hand addrest, But soon he saw the brisk-awakening viol, To some unweary'd minstrel dancing, As if he would the charming air repay, 'Tis said, and I believe the tale, ODE XIII. ON THE DEATH OF MR. THOMSON. The Scene of the following Stanzas is supposed to lie on the Thames, near Richmond. I. IN yonder grave a Druid lies, Where slowly winds the stealing wave; II. In yon deep bed of whisp'ring reeds That he whose heart in sorrow bleeds III. Then maids and youths shall linger here, To hear the woodland pilgrim's knell. IV. Remembrance oft shall haunt the shore When Thames in summer wreaths is drest, To bid his gentle spirit rest! V. And oft as Ease and Health retire To breezy lawn, or forest deep, The harp of Æolus, of which see a description in the Castle of Indolence. G |