Swift-whirling Abra, Trent's o'ershadow'd stream, "Go, go, my lambs, untended homeward fare; To see Aurora leave her wat'ry bed. "Thou also, Damon, (neither nced I fear That hope delusive,) thou art also there; For whither should simplicity like thine Retire, where else such spotless virtue shine? Thou dwell'st not (thought profane) in shades below, Nor tears suit thee-cease then my tears to flow, Away with grief: on Damon ill-bestow'd! Who, pure himself, has found a pure abode, Has pass'd the show'ry arch, henceforth resides With hallow'd lips!-Oh! blest without alloy, In those ethereal mansions thou art known. AN ODE ADDRESSED TO MR. JOHN ROUSE, LIBRARIAN, OF THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD, On a lost Volume of my Poems, which he desired me to replace, that he might add them to my other Works deposited in the Library. THIS Ode is rendered without rhyme, that it might more adequately represent the original, which, as Milton himself informs us, is of no certain measure It may possibly for this reason disappoint the reader, though it cost the writer more labour than the translation of any other piece in the whole collection. STROPHF. My two-fold book! single in show A poet gave, no lofty one in truth, Or British wilds Me roam'd, ANTISTROPHE. Say, little book, what furtive hand Of my most learned friend, I sent thee forth an honour'd traveller, From our great city to the source of Thames, Cerulean sire! Where rise the fountains, and the rapture ring Of the Aonian choir, Durable as yonder spheres, And through the endless lapse of years STROPHE II. Now what God, or Demigod, Have expiated at length the guilty sloth Shall terminate our impious feuds, And discipline, with hallow'd voice recall? Driv'n from their ancient seats In Albion, and well nigh from Albion's shore, And with keen Phœbean shafts Piercing th' unseemly birds, Whose talons menace us, Shall drive the Harpy rare from Helicon afar. ANTISTROPHE. But thou, my book, though thou hast stray'd Or indolent neglect, thy bearer's fault, To some dark ce.l, or cave forlorn, Where thou endur'st, perhaps, For lo! again the splendid hope appears The gulfs of Lethe, and on oary wings STROPHE III. Since Rouse desires thee, and complains Thou yet appear'st not in thy place Among the literary noble stores Giv'n to his care, But, absent, leav'st his numbers incomplete, He, therefore, guardian vigilant Of that unperishing wealth, Calls thee to the interiour shrine, his charge, ANTISTROPHE. Haste, then, to the pleasant groves, Resume thy station in Apollo's dome VOL. III. 18 |