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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,

Or ope the sacred source of sympathetic tears.

III. 2.

Nor second he,i 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.

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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

h Shakspeare.

i Milton.

k 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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Such forms, as glitter in the Muse's ray

With orient hues, unborrow'd of the sun :

Yet shall he mount, and keep his distant way

Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate,

Beneath the good how far-but far above the great.

ODE VI.

THE BARD.

PINDARIC.m

I. 1.

'RUIN seize thee, ruthless King!
Confusion on thy banners wait,

Though fann'd by Conquest's crimson wing
They mock the air with idle state.

Helm, nor hauberk's twisted mail,

Nor e'en thy virtues, tyrant, shall avail

To save thy secret soul from nightly fears,

From Cambria's curse, from Cambria's tears!'
Such were the sounds, that o'er the crested pride
Of the first Edward scatter'd wild dismay,
As down the steep of Snowdon's shaggy side
He wound with toilsome march his long array.
Stout Glo'ster' stood aghast in speechless trance:

q

To arms! cried Mortimer, and couch'd his quiv'ring lance.

'Pindar.

m This Ode is founded on a tradition current in Wales, that Edward the First, when he completed the conquest of that country, ordered all the bards that fell into his hands to be put to death.

The hauberk was a texture of steel ringlets, or rings interwoven, forming a coat of mail, that sate close to the body, and adapted itself to every motion.

Snowdon was a name given by the Saxons to that mountainous tract, which the Welch themselves call Craigian-eryri: it included all the highlands of Caernarvonshire and Merionethshire, as far east as the river Conway. R. Hygden, speaking of the castle of Conway, built by King Edward the First, says, "Ad ortum amnis Conway ad clivum montis Erery;" and Matthew of Westminster, (ad ann. 1283,) Apud Aberconway ad pedes montis Snowdoniæ fecit erigi castrum forte."

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P Gilbert de Clare, surnamed the Red, earl of Gloucester and Hertford, son-inlaw to King Edward. a Edmond de Mortimer, lord of Wigmore. They both were lords-marchers, whose lands lay on the borders of Wales, and probably accompanied the King in this expedition.

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On a rock, whose haughty brow
Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood,
Robed in the sable garb of woe,
With haggard eyes the poet stood;
(Loose his beard, and hoary hair

Stream'd, like a meteor, to the troubled air)
And with a master's hand, and prophet's fire,
Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre.

Hark, how each giant-oak, and desert cave,
Sighs to the torrent's awful voice beneath!
O'er thee, oh King! their hundred arms they wave,
Revenge on thee in hoarser murmurs breathe;
Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day,
To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay.

I. 3.

"Cold is Cadwallo's tongue,

That hush'd the stormy main:

Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed:

Mountains ye mourn in vain

Modred, whose magic song

Made huge Plinlimmon bow his cloud-topp'd head.

On dreary Arvon's shore' they lie,

Smear'd with gore, and ghastly pale:

Far, far aloof th' affrighted ravens sail;

The famish'd eagles screams, and passes by.
Dear lost companions of my tuneful art,
Dear, as the light that visits these sad eyes,
Dear, as the ruddy drops that warm my heart,
Ye died amidst your dying country's cries—
No more I weep. They do not sleep.
On yonder cliffs, a grisly band,

r The shores of Caernarvonshire opposite to the isle of Anglesey.

• Cambden and others observe, that eagles used annually to build their aerie among the rocks of Snowdon, which from thence (as some think) were named by the Welch Craigian-eryri, or the crags of the eagles. At this day (I am told) the highest point of Snowdon is called the eagle's nest. That bird is certainly no stranger to this island, as the Scots, and the people of Cumberland, Westmoreland, &c. can testify: it even has built its nest in the Peak of Derbyshire.-See Willoughby's Ornithol. published by Ray.

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"Weave the warp, and weave the woof,

The winding-sheet of Edward's race.
Give ample room, and verge enough
The characters of hell to trace.

Mark the year, and mark the night,

"When Severn shall re-echo with affright

The shrieks of death, through Berkley's roofs that ring,
Shrieks of an agonizing King!

"She-wolf of France, with unrelenting fangs,

That tear'st the bowels of thy mangled mate,
"From thee be born, who o'er thy country hangs

The scourge of Heav'n. What terrors round him wait!
Amazement in his van, with Flight combin'd,

And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude behind.

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Mighty victor, mighty lord,

Low on his funeral couch he lies!

No pitying heart, no eye, afford
A tear to grace his obsequies.

Is the sable warriory fled?

Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead.

The swarm, that in thy noon-tide beam were born?

Gone to salute the rising morn.

Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows,
While proudly riding o'er the azure realm

In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes;

Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm:

See the Norwegian Ode, that follows.

Edward the Second, cruelly butchered in Berkley Castle.

"Isabel of France, Edward the Second's adulterous queen.

W

Triumphs of Edward the Third in France.

* Death of that King, abandoned by his children, and even robbed in his last moments by his courtiers and his mistress.

y Edward, the Black Prince, dead some time before his father.

Magnificence of Richard the Second's reign.-See Froissard, and other con-temporary writers.

Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway,

That, hush'd in grim repose, expects his evening-prey.

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II. 3.

"Fill high the sparkling bowl,

The rich repast prepare,

Reft of a crown he yet may share the feast:

Close by the regal chair

Fell Thirst and Famine scowl

A baleful smile upon their baffled guest.

Heard ye the din of battle bray,

Lance to lance, and horse to horse?

Long years

of havoc their destin'd course,

urge

And through the kindred squadrons mow their way.
Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame,
With many a foul and midnight murder fed,
Revere his consort's faith, his father's fame,
And spare the meek usurper's' holy head.
Above, below, the roses of snow,
Twin'd with her blushing foe, we spread :
The bristled boar in infant-gore

Wallows beneath the thorny shade.

Now, brothers, bending o'er th' accursed loom,
Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom.

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III. 1.

Edward, lo! to sudden fate

(Weave we the woof. The thread is spun.)

'Half of thy heart we consecrate.

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a Richard the Second (as we are told by Archbishop Scroop and the confederate lords in their manifesto, by Thomas of Walsingham, and all the older writers) was starved to death. The story of his assassination, by Sir Piers of Exon, is of much later date.

b. Ruinous civil wars of York and Lancaster.

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Henry the Sixth, George Duke of Clarence, Edward the Fifth, Richard Duke of York, &c. believed to be murdered secretly in the Tower of London. The oldest part of that structure is vulgarly attributed to Julius Cæsar.

d Margaret of Anjou, a woman of heroic spirit, who struggled hard to save her husband and her crown.

Henry the Fifth.

f Henry the Sixth very near being canonized. The line of Lancaster had no right of inheritance to the crown.

The white and red roses, devices of York and Lancaster.

The silver boar was the badge of Richard the Third; whence he was usually

known in his own time by the name of the Boar.

i: Eleanor of Castile died a few years after the conquest of Wales. The heroic

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