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What strings symphonious tremble in the air !
What strains of vocal transport round her play! Hear from the grave, great Talliessin, hear ; They breathe a soul to animate thy clay. Bright Rapture calls, and soaring as she sings, Waves in the eye of Heav'n her many-coloured
"The verse adorn again
Fierce War, and faithful Love,
And Truth severe, by fairy Fiction dress'd.
In buskin'd measures move
Pale Grief, and pleasing Pain,
With Horror, Tyrant of the throbbing breast.
A voice, as of the cherub-choir,
Gales from blooming Eden bear;
And distant warblings lessen on my ear,
That lost in long futurity expire.
Fond impious man, think'st thou yon sanguine
cloud, Rais'd by thy breath, has quench'd the orb of
To-morrow he repairs the golden flood,
And warms the nations with redoubled ray.
Enough for me: With joy I see
The different doom our fates assign.
Be thine Despair, and sceptred Care,
To triumph, and to die, are mine.'
He spoke; and headlong from the mountain's height
Deop in the roaring tide he plung'd to endless
AWAKE, Æolian lyre, awake,
And give to rapture all thy trembling strings.
From 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 re-bellow to the
Oh! sovereign of the willing soul,
Parent of sweet and solemn-breathing airs,
Enchanting shell! the sullen Cares
And Frantic Passions hear thy soft control.
On Thracia's hills the lord of war
Has curb’d the fury of his car,
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 wind :
Quench'd in dark clouds of slumber lie
The terror of his beak, and lightnings of his eye.
Thee the voice, the dance ohey,
Temper'd to thy warbled lay.
O’er Idalia's velvet-green
The rosy-crowned Loves are seen
On Cytherea's day
With antic Sport, 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 de
clare : Where'er she turns the Graces homage pay: With art 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
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 given 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
(war. Hyperion's march they spy, and glittering shafts of
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 chief, and dusky loves.
Her track, where'er the goddess roves,
Glory pursue, and generous shame, [flame.
Th' unconquerable Mind, and Freedom's holy
Woods, that wave o'er Delphi's steep,
Isles, that crown th' Ægean deep,
Fields, that cool llys. u- laves,
Or where Mæander's aniber 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 the lofty spirit lost,
They sought, oh Albion ! next, thy sea-encircled
Far from the sun and summer gale,
In thy green lap was nature's darling* laid,
What time, where lucid Avou 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,
Or ope the sacred source of sympathetic tears.'
Nor second hef that rode sublime
Upon the seraph-wings of Ecstasy,
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,
Closed 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 resound-