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Impatient Freudom lies!

| And hamlets brown, and dim-discover'd spires, Her inatted trees madly spread,

And hears their fimple bell, and marks o'er all To every sod which wraps the dead

Thy dewy fingers draw She turns her joyless eyes.

The gradual dusky veil. Ne'er thall the leave that lowly ground; While spring shall pour his show'rs, as oft he Till notes of triumph bursting round

wont, Proclaim her reign restor'd:

And bathe thy breathing treffes, meekest Eve! Till William seek the lad retreat,

Wnile Summer loves to sport And bleeding at her sacred feet

Beneath thy lingering light; Present the fated sword.

While fallow Autumn Slls thy lap with leaves, If, weak to scoth fo soft an heart,

Or "l'inter, yelling through the troublous air, These pictur'd glories nought impart

Affrights thy shrinking train,
To dry thy constant tear;

And rudely rends thy robes ;
If yet, in Sorrow's diftant eye,
Expos’d and pale thou see'ft him lie,

So long, regardful of thy quiet rule,
Wild war insulting near :

Shall Fancy, Friendthi, Science, siniling Peace, Where'er from time thou court's relief,

Thy genıleft influence own,

And love thy favourite pame!
The Muse frall fill, with social grief,

Her gertieft promile keep :
Év'n humble Harting's cottag'd vale

$ 155. Ode to Pearl. COLLINS. Shall learn the sad repeated tale,

TO THOU, who bad 'st ihy turtles bear And bid her shepherds weep.

Swift from his grasp thy golden hair,

And fought't th native skies: § 1'54. Ode 10 Evening. COLLINS.

When war, by vultures drawn from far, TF aught of caten stop, or pastoral song,

To Britain bent his iron car, . May hope, chaste Eve, to sooth thy modest ear, / And bade his storms arise! Like thy own folemn springs,

Tir'd of his rude tyrannic sivay,
Thy springs, and dying gales;

Our youth shall fix some festive day,
O nymph reserv'd, while now the bright-hair'dsun! His sullen Ihrics to burn :
Sits in yon western tent, whose cloudy skirts, But thou, who hear'ít the turning spheres,
With brede ethereal wove,

| What sounds may charm thy partial ears, O’erhang his wavy bed :

And gain thy bicít return!
Now air is huth'd, save where the weak-eyed bato Peace, thy iniur'd rubes upbind!
With short shrill fhriek flits by on learhern wing, lo rife, and leave not one behind
Or where the beetle winds

Of all thy bcamy train :
His small but fullen horn,

The British lion, Goddess sweet,
As oft he rises ’midst the twilight path, Lies stretch'd on earth to kiss thy feet,
Against the pilgrim borne in heedlets hum: And own thy holier reign.
Now teach me, maid compos'd,

Let others court thy transient smile,
To breatbe some soften’d ftrain,

| But come to grace thy western isle,
Whose numbers stealing thro' thv darkening vale, L. By warlike ilonour led!
May not unseemly with its stillness suit, | And, while around her ports rejoice,
As, musing low, I hail

While all her sons adore thy choice,
Thy genial lov'd return!

With him for ever wed! *
For when thy folding-sar arising shows
His paly circlet, at his warning lamp

$ 156. The Manners. An Ode. COLLINS, The fragrant hours, and clves

LAREWEL, for clearer ken design'd, Who flept in buds the day,

T The dim-discover'd tracts of mind : And many a pymph who wreathes her brows | Truths which, froin action's paths retird, with fedge,

My filent search in vain requir'd! And sheds the freshening dew; and, lovelier still,

No more my fail that deep explores, The pensive pleasures firect

No more I search those magic shores, Prepare thy thadowy car.

| What regions part the world of foul,

LOr whence thy streams, Opinion, roll: Then let me rore some wild and heathy scene,

If e'er I round such fairy field, Or find some ruin ’midst is dreary delis,

Some pow'r impart the spear and shield, Whose walls incre awful nod

| 4t which the wizard pallions fly, By thy religious gleams.

By which the giant follies die! Cr if chiil bluttering winds, or driving rain, Farewel the porch, whose roof is seen Prevent my willing feet, be mine the hut, Arch'd with th' enlivening olive's green :.. That from the mountain's fide

Where Science, prank'd in tissued vest, Views wilds and swelling floods,

1 By Reason, Pride, and Fancy drest,

Comes

COLLINS.

Comes like a bride, so trim array'd,

$ 157. The Passions. An Ode for Music. To wed with Doubt in Plato's ihade! Youth of the quick uncheated sight,

W HEN Music, heavenly maid, was young, Thy walks, Observance, more invite !

VV While yet in early Greece lhe sung, O thou, who lov'st that ampler range

Che Pallions oft, to hear her shell, Where life's wide prospects round thee change,

| Throng d around her magic cell, And, with her mingled fons allied,

Exulung, trembling, raging, fainting, Throw'st the prattling page afde :

Poffest beyond the Muse's painting; To me in converse sweet impart

By turns they felt the glowing mind To read in man the native neart,

Disturb'd, delighted, rais’d, refin'd: To learn where Science sure is found,

Till once, 'tis Taid, when all were fir'd, From nature as the lives around:

Fiil'd with fury, rapt, inspir'd, And gazing oft her mirror true

From the supporting myrtles round By turns each shifting image view !

They snatch'd her instruments of found; Till meddling Art's officious lore

| And, as they oft had heard apart Reverse the lessons taught bcfore,

Sweet lessons of her forceful art, Alluring from a safer rule,

Each, for Madness rul'd the hour, To dream in her enchanted school ;

Would prove his own expressive pow'r, Thou, Heaven, whate'er of great we boaft,

First Fcar his hand, its skill to try,
Had bless'd this social science most,

Amid the chords bewilder'd laid,
Retiring bence to thoughtless cell,
As Fancy breathes her potent spell,

And back recoil'd, he knew not why,
Not vain she finds the cheerful talk,

Ev'n at the found himself had made. In pageant quaint, in motley maik,

Next Anger rush'd, his eyes on fire, Behold, before her musing eyes,

In lightnings own'd his fecret stings, The countless Manners round her rise;

In one rude clath he struck the lyre, While, ever vai ying as they pass,

And swept with hurried hand the strings. To some Contempt applies her glass :

With woeful measures wan Despair, With these the white-rob'd maids combine,

Low fullen sounds, his grief beguild ; And thote the laughing iatyrs join!

A solemn, strange, and mingled air, But who is he whom now the views,

'Twas sad by fits, by starts 'twas wild, In robe of wild contending hues ?

But thou, O Hope, with eyes so fair, Thou by the Pallions nurs'd, I greet

What was thy delighted measure? The comic sock that binds thy feet !

Still it whisper'd promis'd plcasure, O Humour, thou whose name is known

And bade the lovely scenes at citance hail! To Britain's favour'd ille alone,

Still would her touch the strain prolong, Me too amidst thy band admit,

And from the rocks, the woods, the vale, There where the young-eyed healthful Wit

She call'd on Echo still through all the long; (Whose jewels in his crilped hair

And where her sweetest theme the chose, Are plac'd each other's beams to share,

A soft responsive voicc was heard at every close, Whom no delights from thee divide)

And Hope enchanted (mild, and wav'd her golden In laughter loos d attends thy side.

hair. By old Milerus **, who lo long Has ceas'd his love-inwoven fong ;

And longer had the sung-but, with a frown, By all you taught the Tuscan maids,

Revenge impatient rose : In chang'd Italia's modern shades;

He threw his blood-stain'd sword in thunder By him + whose knight's diftinguish'd name

down, Refind a nation's luit of fame;

And, with a withering look, Whose tales e'en now, with echoes sweet,

The war-denouncing trumpet took, Caftilia's Moorish hills repeat;

And blew a blast fo loud and dread, Or him I, whom Seine's blue nymphs deplore,

Were ne'er propheric sounds so full of woc; In watchet weeds on Gallia's fhore, .

And ever and anon he beat Who drew the sad Sicilian maid

The doubling drum with furious heat : By virtues in her fire betray'd :

And though sometimes, each dreary pause beO Nature boon, from whom proceed

twcen, Each forceful though:, each prompted deed ;

Dejected Pity at his side If but from thee I hope to feel,

Her soul-lubduing voice applied, On all my heart inprint thy seal !

Yet ftill he kept his wild unalter'd mien ; Let some retrcating Cynic find

While each strajn'd ball of fight seem'd bursting Those off-turn'd scrolls I leave behind,

from his head. The Sports and I this hour agree

| Thy numbers, Jealousy, to nought were fix'd, To rove thy scene-full world with thee ! | Sad proof of thy distressful ftate ! * Alluding to the Milefian Tales, some of the earliest romances. + Cervantes.

Monsieur Le Sage, author of the incomparable adventures of Gil Blas de Santillane, who died in Puris in the year 1746.

Ccc 3

Of differing themes the veering song was mix'd, 0, bid our vain endeavours cease, And now it courted Love, now raving call's Revive the just designs of Greece, on Hate.

Return in all thy simple state, With eyes uprais'd, as one inspir'd,

Confirm the tales her fons relate ! Pale Mclancholy fat retird, And from her wild sequester'd seat, In notes by distance made more sweet, Pour'd through the mellow horn her pensive foul : $ 158. An Epiftle addressed to Sir Thomas Hanmer, And dashing soft from rocks around,

on bis Edition of Sbakspeare's Works. Bubbling runnels join'd the found ;

COLLINS. Thro' glades and glooms the mingled measure W HILE, born to bring the Muse's happier Itole,

days, Or o'er some haunted stream with fond delay, | A patriot's hand protects a poet's lays; Round an holy calm diffusing,

While, nurs'd by you, she fees lier myrtles bloom, Love of peace, and lonely muling,

Green and unwither’d, o'er his honour'd tomb : In hollow murmurs died away.

Excuse her doubts, if yu the fears to tell But, O, how alter'd was its sprightlier tone !

What secret transports in her bofom (well : When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue,

With conscious awc she hears the critic's fame, Her bow across her shoulder Hung,

And blushing hides her wreath at Shakespeare's Her buskins gemm'd with morning dew,

name. Blew an aspiring air, that dale and thicker rung,

Hard was the lot those injur'd streams endur'd, The hunter's call to Faun and Dryad known;

6. Unown'd by science, and by years obscurd : The oak-crown'd afters, and their chaste-eyed Fair Fancy wept ; and echoing fighs confess'd Satyrs and sylvan boys, were seen [queen,

A fix'd despair in every tunetul breaft. Peeping from forth their alleys green ;

Not with more grief th' afflicted (wains appear, Brown Exercise rejoic'd to hear,

When wint'ry winds deform the plenteous year; And Sport leap'd up, and seiz'd his beechen spear.

When lingering frosts the ruind lears invade

*** Where Peace resorted, and the Graces play'd. Last came Joy's ecstatic trial.

Each rising art by just gradation moves, He, with viny crown advancing,

Toil builds on toil, and age un age improves : First to the lively pipe his hand addressid,

| The Muse alone unequal dealt her rage, But soon he saw the brisk-awakening viol,

and grac'd with noblest pomp her earliest stage, Whose sweet entrancing voice he lov'd the best. Preiery'd through time, the speaking scenes im• They would have thought, who heard the

part strain,

Each changeful with of Phædra's tortur'd heart : They saw in Tempc's vale her native maids. on

ative maids. Or paint the curse that mark'd the Theban's reign, Amidst the festal founding shades,

A bed incestuous, and a father Nain.
To some unwearied minstrel dancing,
While, as his flying fingers kiss'd the strings,

With kind concern our pitying eyes o'erflow,

Trace the sad tale, and own another's woe. Love fram'd with Mirth a gay fantastic round;} To Rome remov'd, with wit secure to please, Loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound, the comic filters keep their native eale. And he, amidst his frolic play,

With jealous fear declining Greece beheld As if he would the charming air repay,

Her own Menander's art almost excell'd! Shook thousand odours from his dewy wings.

But every Muse eslay'd to raise in vain O Music, sphere-descended maid,

Some labour'd rival of her tragic strain ; Friend of pleasure, wisdom's aid,

Ilyfsus' laurels, though transferr'd with toil, Why, Goddess, why, to us denied,

Droop'd their fair leaves, nor knew th' upLay'st thou thy ancient lyre aside ?

friendly soil. As in that lov'd Athenian bow'r

As arts expir'd, refiftless Dulness rose; You learn'd an all-commanding pow'r,

Goths, Priests, or Vandals-all were learning's foese Thy mimic soul, O nymph endear'd,

Till + Julius first recall'd each exil'd maid, Can well recall what then it heard.

And Cosmo own'd thern in th' Etrurian fhade. Where is thy native simple hcart,

Then, deeply skill'd in love's engaging theme, Devote to virtue, fancy, art?

The soft Provençal pass to Arno's Itream : Arise, as in tiat elder time,

With graceful ease the wanton lyre he strung, Warm, energic, chaste, sublime !

Sweet flow'd the lays—but love was all he fung, Thy wonders, in that godlike age,

The gay description could not fail to move; Fill thy recording fifter's page

For, led by nature, all are friends to love. 'Tis said, and I believe the tale,

But heaven, fill various in its works, decreed Thy humblest reed could more prevail,

The perfect boast of time should last succeed. Had more of strength, diviner rage,

The beauteous unior must appear at length Than all which charms this laggard age, Of Tuscan faucy and Athenian strength: Er'n all at once together found

One greater Muse Eliza's reign adorn,' Cæcilia's mingled world of sound

"And ev'n a Shakspeare to her fame be born! * The Oedipus of Sophocles. + Julius II. the immediate predecesor of Lco X.

Yet,

Yet, ah! so bright her morning's openiog ray, There every thought the poet's warmth may raise, In vain our Britain top'd an equal day!

There native inulic dwells in all the lays." No second growth the western iile could bear, n, might some verse with happiest skill persuade At once exhausted with too rich a year.

Expreflive picture to adopt thine aid ! Too nicely Jonson knew the critic's part; | What wondrous draugh's might rise from every Nature in him was almost lost in Art.

page! Of softer mold the gentle Fletcher came, What other Raphaels charm a diftant age! The next in order, as the next in naine.

Methinks ev in now I view some free design, With pleas d attention 'midst his scenes we find Where breathing Nature lives in every line : Each glowing thought that warms the female Chaste and lubdued the modeft lights decay, mind;

Steal into thades, and mildly melt away. Each melting ligh, and every tender tcar, - And fee, where S Anthony, in tears approv'd, The lover's wishes, and the virgin's fear. Guards the pale relics of the chief he lov'd : His * every strain the Smiles and Graces own ; O'er the cold corle the warrior seems to bend, But stronger Shakspeare felt for man alone : Deepfunk in grief, and mourns his murder'd friend! Drawn by his pen, our ruder pallions stand Sull as they press, he calls in all around, Th' unrivall'd piature of his early hand.

Lifts the torn robe, and joints the bleeding wound. With † gradual steps, and flow, exacter France But i who is he whole brows exalted bear Saw Art's fair empire o'er her shores advance; A wrath impatient, and a fiercer air? By length of toil a bright perfection knew, Awake to all that injurd worth can feel, Correctly bold, and just in all she drew. On his own Rome he turns th' avenging steel. Till late Corneille, with Lucan's spirit fir'd, Yer shall not war's insatiate fury fall, Breath'd the free strain, as Rome and he inspir'd, (So heaven ordains it) on the destin'd wall. And clallic judgment gain'd to sweet Racine See the fond mother, 'midit the plaintive train, The temperate strength of Maro's chafter line. Hang on his knees, and proftrate on the plain!

But wilder far the British laurel spread, Tonch'd to the soul, in vain he strives to hide And wreaths lels artful crown our poet's head. The foa's affection in the Roman's pride: Yer he alone to every scene could give

O'er all the man conflicting pallions rise, Th' historian's truth, and bid the manners live. Rige grafps the sword, while pity melts the eyes, Wak'd at his call, I view wiih glad surprise i hus, generous Critic, as thy bard inspires, Majestic forms of mighty monarchs rile.

The filter Arts thall nurse their drooping fires; There Henry's trumpets spread their loudļalarms, Each from his scenes her stores alternate bring, And laurell d Conqueft waits her hero's arms. Blend the fair tints, or wake the vocal string : Here gentler Edward claims a pitying righ, Those Sibyl-leaves, the sport of every wind, Scarce born to honours, and to foon to die ! (For poets ever were a careless kind) Yet thall thy throne, unhappy infant, bring B; thee dispos'd, no farther toil demand, No beam of comfort to the guilty king :

But, just to nature, own thy forming hand. The time thall come when Glo'ster's heart shall! So spread o'er Greece, th' harmonious whole bleed,

unknown, In life's last hours, with horror of the deed: Evin Homer's numbers charm'd by parts alone ; When dreary visions thail at last prelent

Their own Ulytics scarce had wander'd more, Thy vengeful image in the midnight tent; By winds and waters cast on every shore: Thy hand unseen the fecret death Thall bear, | When, rais'd by fate, some former Hanmer join'd Blunt the weak sword, and breaksch' oppreflive Each beauteous image of the boundless mind; fpear.

And bade, like thee, his Athens ever claim Where'er we turn, by fancy charm’d, we find A fond alliance with the Poet's name. Some sweet illusion of the cheated mind. Oft, wild of wing, the calls the soul to rove With humbler nature, in the rural grove; $ 159. Dirge in Cymbeline, sung by Guiderus and Where swains contented own the quiet scene, Arviragus over Fidele, suppojed to be dead. And twilight fairies tread the circled green :

COLLINS,
Drels'd by her hand, the woods and valleys (mile, To fair Fidele's grassy tomb
And Ipring diffufive decks th' enchanted ille.

Soft maids and village hinds shall bring
O, more than all in powerful genius bleft, Each opening fivcet, of earliest bloom,
Come, take thine empire o'er the willing breast' ! And rifle all the breathing Spring.
Whate'er the woundsihis youthful heart hall feel, No wailing ghost shall dare appear
Thy fongs support me, and thy morals heal! Tovex with shrieks this quiet grove;

* The characters are thus distinguished by Mr. Dryden.

+ About the time of Shakspeare, the poet Hardy was in great repute in France. He wrote, according to Fontenelle, fix hundred plays. The French poets after him applied themselve. in general to the correct improvement of ihe stage, which was almost totally disregarded by those of our own country, Jonson excepted.

The favourite author of the elder Corneille. See the tragedy of Julius Cæfar.
Coriolanus. See Mr. Spence's Dialogue on the Odysley,
3 C4

But

But shepherd lads assemble here,

| Now waft me from the green hill's fide And melting virgins own their love.

Whose cold turf hides the buried friend ! No wither'd witch shall here he feen,

And see, the fairy valleys fade, No goblins lead their nightly crew;

Dun night has veil'd the solemn view! The female fays Thall haunt the green,

Yet once again, dear parted shade, And dress thy grave with pearly dew.

Meck nature's child, again adieu ! The red-breast oft at evening hours

# The genial meads aflign'd to bless Shall kindly lend bis little aid,

Thy life, Mall mourn the early doom !
With hoary nofs, and gather'd Aow'rs,

Their hinds and shepherd girls shall dress
To deck the ground where theu art laid. | With simple hands thy rural tomb.
When howling winds, and beating rain, Long, long, thy stone and pointed clay
In lempeits shake thy fylvan ceil ;

I Shall melt the musing Briton's eyes ;
Or 'midit ile chace on every plain,

10 vales, and wild woods, shall he say, The tender thought on thee shall dwell; | In yonder grave your Druid lies! Each lonely scene shall thee restore,

For thee the tear be duly Paed; Belov'd, till life can chain ny more;

$ 161. Verses written on a Paper wbicb con. And mourn’d, till Pity's self be dead.

tained a piece of Bride-Cake. COLLINS. VEcurious hands, that, hid from vulgar eyes,

1 By search prophane shall find this hallow'd § 160. Ode on the Deatb of Mr. Thumfor. l. cake,

Collins. With virtue's awe forbear the sacred prize,

Nor dare a theft, for love and pity's fake! Tbe Scene of the following Stanzas is suptased re

lie on the Thames, near Richmond. This precious relic, form'd by magic pow'r, TN yonder grave a Druid lies,

Beneath the shepherd's haunted pillow laid, Where slowly winds the stealing wave :

Was meant by love to charm the filent hour, The year's best livcets shall duteous rise

The secret present of a matchless maid. To deck its Poet's lylvan grave.

The Cyprian queen, at Hymen's fond request, In yon deep bed of whispering recds

Each nice ingredient chose with happiest art; His airy harp * Mall now be laid,

Fears, fighs, and wishes of th' enamour'd breast, That he, whose heart in forrow bleeds,

| And pains that pleate, are mix'd in every part. May love through life the foothing thade. With rosy hand the spicy fruit dhe brought, Then maids and youths fhall linger here,

From Paphian hills, and fair Cytherea's ille; And, while its sounds at distance (well,

And ten per'd sweet with these the melting Shall fadly seem in Pity's ear

thought, To hear the woodland pilgrim's knell.

The kiss ambrosial, and the yielding smile. Remembrance oft shall haunt the shore

Ambiguous looks, that scorn and yet relemt; When Thames in fuminer wreaths is drest,

| Denials mild, and firm unalter'd truth, And oft suspend the dathirg oar

Reluctant pride, and amorous faint content, To bid his gentle fpirit reft!

And meeting ardours, and exulting youth, And oft as Ease and Health retire

Sleep, wayward god ! hath sworn, while these To breczy lawn, or foreft coep,

remain, The frie. (still vicw yon wutening + spire,

With flattering dreams to dry his nightly tear; And 'mid the varicd landscape weep:

And cheerful Ilope, so oft invok'd in vain, But thou, who own'st that carthy bed,

With fairy fongs shall icoth his pensive car. Ah! what will every durye avail :

If, bound by vows to friendship’s gentle fide, Or tears, which Lore and Pity shed,

And fond of foul, thou hop ft an equal grace, That mourn bencath the gliding fail! If youth or maid thy joys and griefs divide, Yet lives there one whose heedless cye

O much entreated leave this fatal place. Shall scorn thy pale frine glimmering near ? | Sweet Peace, who long hath Thunn'd my plains With him, tweet bard, may Fancy die,

tive day, And Joy desert the blooming year!

Consents at length to bring me thort delight; Bur thou, lorn stream, whose sullen tide Tly careless steps may scare her doves away,

No fedge-crown'd filiers now attend, 1 And Grief with raven note usurp the night.

• The harp of Fous, of which see a description in the Cantle of Indolence.
+ Mr. Thomson was buried in Richmond church.

Mr. Thomson resided in the neishbourhood of Richmond some time before his death,

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