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No more can faith or eandour move ;
Come, Cheerfulness, triumphant fair, But each ingenuous deed of love,
Shine through the hovering cloud of care: Which reason would applaud,
O sweet of language, mild of mien, Now, smiling o'er her dark distress,
O Virtue's friend and Pleasure's queen, Fancy malignant strives to dress
Assuage the flames that burn my breast, Like Injury and Fraud.
Compose my jarring thoughts to rest;
And while thy gracious gifts I feel, Farewell to Virtue's peaceful times:
My song shall all thy praise reveal. Soon will you stoop to act the crimes
As once ('twas in Astræa's reign) Which thus you stoop to fear:
The vernal powers renew'd their train, Guilt follows guilt : and where the train
happen'd that immortal Love Begins with wrongs of such a stain,
Was ranging through the spheres above, What horrours form the rear !
And downward hither cast his eye
The year's returning pomp to spy, 'Tis thus to work her baleful power,
He saw the radiant god of day, Suspicion waits the sullen hour
Waft in his car the rosy May; Of fretfulness and strife,
The fragrant Airs and genial Hours When care the infirmer bosom wrings,
Were shedding round him dews and flowers; Or Eurus waves his murky wings
Before his wheels Aurora pass'd, To damp the seats of life.
And Hesper's golden lamp was last.
But, fairest of the blooming throng, But come, forsyke the scene unbless'd,
When Health majestic mov'd along, Which first beheld your faithful breast
Delighted to survey below To groundless fears a prey :
The joys which from her presence flow, Come, where with my prevailing lyre
While Earth enliven'd hears her voice, The skies, the streams, the groves conspire And swains, and flocks, and fields rejoice; To charm your doubts away.
Then mighty Love her charms confess'd,
And soon his vows inclind her breast, Thron'd in the Sun's descending car,
And, known from that auspicious morn, What power unseen diffuseth far
Thee, pleasing Cheerfulness, was born. This tenderness of mind ?
Thou, Cheerfulness, by Heaven desigu'd What genius smiles on yonder flood ?
To sway the movements of the mind, What god, in whispers from the wood,
Whatever fretful passion springs, Bids every thought be kind ?
Whatever wayward fortune brings
To disarrange the power within, O thou, whate'er thy awful name,
And strain the musical machine; Whose wisdom our untoward frame
Thou, goddess, thy attempering hand With social love restrains;
Doth each discordant string command, Thou, who by fair Affection's ties
Refines the soft, and swells the strong ; Giv'st us to double all our joys,
And, joining Nature's general song, And half disarm our pains.
Through many a varying tone unfolds
The harmony of human souls. Let universal candour still,
Fair guardian of domestic life, Clear as yon heaven-reflecting rill,
Kind banisher of homebred strife, Preserve my open mind;
Nor sullen lip, nor taunting eye, Nor this nor that man's crooked ways
Deforms the scene where thou art by: One sordid doubt within me raise
No sickening husband damns the hour
Which bound his joys to female power;
The officious daughters pleas'd attend ;
The brother adds the name of friend :
By thee with flowers their board is crown'd,
With songs from thee their walks resound; How thick the shades of evening close !
And moru with welcome lustre shines, How pale the sky with weight of snows!
And evening unperceiv'd declines. Haste, light the tapers, urge the fire,
Is there a youth, whose anxious heart And bid the joyless day retire.
Labours with love's unpitied smart? -Alas! in vain I try within
Though now he stray by rills and bowers, To brighten the dejected scene,
And weeping waste the lonely hours, While rous'd by grief these fiery pains
Or if the nymph her audience deign, Tear the frail texture of my veins;
Debase the story of his pain While Winter's voice, that storms around,
With slavish looks, discolour'd eyes, And yon deep death-bell's groaning sound
And accents faltering into sighs; Renew my mind's oppressive gloom,
Yet thou, auspicious power, with ease Till starting horrour shakes the room.
Canst yield him happier arts to please, Is there in Nature no kind power
Inform his mien with manlier charms, To sooth Afliction's lonely hour?
Instruct his tongue with noble arms, To blunt the edge of dire Disease,
With more commanding passion move, And teach these wintery shades to please? And teach the dignity of love.
Friend to the Muse and all her train,
Do thou conduct my fancy's dreams For thee I court the Muse again:
To such indulgent placid themes, The Muse for thee may well exert
As just the struggling breast may cheer, Her pomp, ber charms, her fondest art,
And just suspend the starting tear, Who owes to thee that pleasing sway
Yet leave that sacred sense of woe Which Earth and peopled Heaven obey.
Which none but friends and lovers know. Let Melancholy's plaintive tongue Pepeat what later bards have sung; But thine was Homer's ancient might,
ODE VII. And thine victorious Pindar's flight:
ON THE USE OF POETRY. Thy hand each Lesbian wreath attir'd: Thy lip Sicilian reeds inspir’d:
Not for themselves did human kind The spirit len the glad perfume
Contrive the parts by Heaven assign'd Whence yet the flowers of Teos bloom;
On life's wide scene to play: Whence yet from Tibur's sabine vale
Not Scipio's force, nor Cesar's skill Delicious blows the enlivening gale,
Can conquer Glory's arduous hill,
If Fortune close the way.
Yet still the self-depending soul, (A prey perhaps to Fortune's rage,
Though last and least in Fortune's roll, Perhaps by tender griefs.oppress'd,
His proper sphere commands; Or blooms congenial to his breast)
And knows what Nature's seal bestow'd, Retires in desert scenes to dwell,
And sees, before the throne of God,
The rank in which he stands.
Who train'd by laws the future age,
Who rescued nations from the rage And gathering storms aloft impend;
Of partial, factious power, He hears the neighbouring surges roll,
My heart with distant homage views; And raging thunders shake the pole:
Content if thou, celestial Muse,
Didst rule my natal hour.
Not far beneath the hero's feet,
Nor from the legislator's seat He sees ten thousand demons rise
Stands far remote the bard. To wield the empire of the skies,
Though not with public terrours cround, And Chance and Fate assume the rod,
Yet wider shall his rule be found,
More lasting bis award.
Lycurgus fashion'd Sparta's fame,
And Pompey to the Roman name Till Nature wear her wonted bloom,
Gave universal sway: Till fields and shades their sweets exhale,
Where are they?-Homer's reverend page And music swell each opening gale :
Holds empire to the thirtieth age,
And tongues and climes obey.
And thus when William's acts divine
No longer shall from Bourbon's line Who founds on discord Beauty's reign,
Draw one vindictive vow; Converts to pleasure every pain,
When Sidney shali with Cato rest, Sabdues each hostile form to rest,
And Russel move the patriot's breast
No more than Brutus now:
Yet then shall Shakspeare's powerful art If equal praise I yield thy name,
O'er every passion, every heart, Still govern thou thy poet's flame:
Confirm his awful throne : Still with the Muse my bosom share,
Tyrants shall bow before his laws; And sooth to peace intruding Care.
And Freedom's, Glory's, Virtue's cause, But most exert thy pleasing power
Their dread assertor own.
ON LEAVING HOLLAND.
FAREWELL to Leyden's lonely bound, From him and Friendship torn away,
The Belgian Muse's sober seat; I court the Muse's healing spell
Where, dealing frugal gifts around For griefs that still with absence dwell,
To all the favourites at her feet,
She trains the body's bulky frame
Great citizen of Albion ! thee
Heroic valour still attends,
And useful Science, pleas'd to see
A lustre unconfin'd as day,
Fills and commands the public eye;
Till, pierc'd and sinking by her powerful ray,
Tame Faith and monkish Awe, like nightly de-
Hence the whole land the patriot's ardour shares,
Hence dread Religion dwells with social Joy; And haply soothe some lover's prudent woe,
And holy passions and unsullied cares, Or prompt some restive bard, and modulate his lyre. In youth, in age, domestic life employ.
O fair Britannia, hail !-With partial love Farewell, ye nymphs, whom sober care of gain The tribes of men their native seats approve, Snatch'd in your cradles from the god of Unjust and hostile to each foreign fame: love:
But when for generous minds and manly laws
A nation holds her prime applause,
Their public zeal shall all reproof disclaim.
Thrice hath the spring beheld thy faded fame
Since I exulting grasp'd the tuneful shell: Shall I sit down, to part no more?
Eager through endless years to sound thy name, Far from this pale, discolourd sea,
Proud that my memory with thine should dwell. That sleeps upon the reedy shore,
How hast thou stain'd the splendour of my choice! When shall I plough thy azure tide?
Those godlike forms which hover'd round thy When on thy hills the flocks admire,
voice, Like mountain snows; till down their side Laws, freedom, glory, whither are they flown? I trace the village and the sacred spire, [vide. What can I now of thee to time report, While bowers and copses green the golden slope di- Save thy fond country made thy impions sport,
Her fortune and her hope the victims of thy own? Ye nymphs, who guard the pathless grove, Ye blue-ey'd sisters of the streams,
with eyes unmov'd, and reckless heart, With whom I wont at morn to rove,
Who saw thee from thy summit fall thus low, With whom at noon I talk'd in dreams: Who deem'd thy arm extended but to dart 0! take me to your haunts again,
The public vengeance on tl y private fue. The rocky spring, the greenwood glade; But, spite of every gloss of envious minds, To guide my lonely footsteps deign,
The owl-ey'd race wbom Virtue's lustre blinds, To prompt my slumbers in the murmuring shade, Who sagely prove that each man hath his price, And soothe my vacant ear with many an airy strain. I still believ'd thy aim from blemish free,
I vet, even yet, believe it, spite of thee
Thy drooping master's inauspicious hand:
Nor wish to make her guardian laws more Daughters of Albion, listen to my lyre!
But the rash many, first by thee misled, [strong: O Phæbus, guardian of the Aonian choir,
Bore thee at length unwillingly along."
For faith deserted or for cities sold,
Own here one untry'd, unexampled, deed;
To beg the infamy he did not earn, (meed. III.
And scape in Guilt's disguise from Viitue's offer'd Thee too, protectress of my lays, Elate with whose majestic call
For saw we not that dangerous power arow'd Above degenerate Latium's praise,
Whom Freedom oft hath found her mortal bane, Above the slavish boast of Gaul,
Whom public Wisdom ever strove to exclude, I dare from impious thrones reclaim,
And but with blushes suffereth in her train? And wanton Slothi's ignoble charms,
Corruption vaunted her bewitching spoils, The honours of a poet's name
O'er court, o'er senate, spread in pomp her toils, To Somers' counsels, or to llampden's arms, Thee, Friedum, I rejoin, and bless thy genuine flame.
* See the Epistle to Curio.
And call'd herself the state's directing soul: Prompt with a lover's fondness to survey;
Yet, where Injustice works her wilfui claim,
The rescued merchant oft thy words resounds: See the grave queen of pageants, Honour, dwell, Thee and thy cause the rural hearth defends; Couch'd in thy bosom's deep tempestuou- gloom
His bowl to thee the grateful sailor crowns : Like some grim idol in a sorcerer's cell. The learn'd recluse, with awful zeal who read Before' ber rites thy sickening reason flew, Of Grecian heroes, Roman patriots dead,
Divine Persuasion from thy tongue withdrew, Now with like awe doth living merit scan:
While Laughter mockd, or Pity stole a sigh: While he, whom virtue in his blest retreat
Can Wit her tender morements rightly frame Bade social ease and public passions meet, Where the prime function of the soul is lame? Ascends the civil scene, and knows to be a man. Can Fancy's feeblesprings the force of Truth supply? At length in view the glorious end appeard: But come: 'tis time: strong Destiny impends
We saw thy spirit through the senate reign; To shut thee from the joys thou hast betray'd : And Freedom's friends thy instant omen heard With princes fill'd, the solemn fane ascends,
Of laws for which their fathers bled in vain. By Infamy, the mindful demon sway'd.
And murmuring challeng'd the deciding hour And the sad charge of berours not their own,
Instruct the mighty moments as they roll ; Ahore revenge, or fear, or pity, just,
The great, the sage, the happy, and augusts O Alfred, father of the English name,
And still he asks them of the hidden plan O valiant Edward, first in civil fame,
Whence every treaty, every war began, o William, height of public virtue pure,
Evolves their secrets, and their guilt proclaims : Bend from your radiant seats a joyful eye, And still his bands despoil them on the road Behold the sum of all your labours nigh,
Of each vain wreath by lying bards bestow'd, Your plans of law complete, your ends of rule secure. And crush their trophies huge, and rase their sculp
tur'd names. 'Twas then-Oshame! O soal from faith estrang'd!
O Albion, oft to flattering vows a prey ! Ye mighty shades, arise, give place, attend: 'Twas then—Thy thought what sudden frenzy Here bis eternal mansion Curio seeks: [bend, chang'd?
- Low doth proud Wentworth to the stranger What rushing palsy took thy strength away? And his dire welcome hardy Clifford speaks: Is this the man in Freedom's cause approv'd ? “He comes, whom Fate with surer arts prepar'd The man so great, so honour'd, so belov'd ? To accomplish all which we but vainly dard: Whom the dead envy'd, and the living bless'd ? Whom o'er the stubborn herd she taught to reign: This patient slave by tinsel bonds allur'd ?
Who sooth'd with gaurly dreams their raging This wretched suitor for a boon ahjur'd ?
Even to its last irrevocable hour; [power, Wbom those that feard him, scorn; that trusted Then baffled their rude strength, and broke them him, detest?
to the chain."
O lost alike to action and repose!
But ye, whom yet wise Liberty inspires, With all that habit of familiar fame,
Whom for her champions o'er the world she Sold to the mockery of relentless foes,
claims, And doom'd to exhaust the dregs of life in (That household godhead, whom of old your sires shame,
Sought in the woods of Elbe, and bore to To act with burning brow and throbbing heart Drive ye this hostile omen far away; (Thames) A poor deserter's dull exploded part,
Their own fell efforts on her foes repay; To slight the favour thou canst hope no more, Your wealth, your arts, your fame, be her’s alone: Renounce the giddy crowd, the vulgar wind, Still gird your swords to combat on her side;
Charge thy own lightness on thy country's mind, Still fraine your laws her generous test to abide; And from her voice appeal to each tame foreign And win to her defence the altar and the throne. shore.
Protect her from yourselves, ere yet the flood But England's sons, to purchase thence applause, Of golden luxury, which Commerce pours,
Shall ne'er the loyalty of slaves pretend, Hath spread that selfish fierceness through your By courtly passions try the public cause;
blood, Nor to the forms of rule betray the end.
Which not her lightest discipline endures : Orace erect! by manliest passions moy'd, Snatch from fantastic demagogues her cause: The labours which to virtue stand approv'd, Dream not of Numa's manners, Plato's laws:
A wiser founder, and a nohler plan,
If then, from Love's deceit secure, O sons of Alfred, were for you assign'd:
Thus far alone thy wishes tend,
On Delia's vernal walk descend :
The grove, the lawn, the soften'd scene,
Becomes the presence of the rural queen.
Attend, while that harmonious tongue
Each bosom, each desire, commands:
Apollo's lute by Hermes strung, Queen of my songs, harmonious maid,
And touch'd by chaste Minerva's hands, Ah why hast thou withdrawn thy aid ?
Attend. I feel a force divine, Ah why forsaken thus my breast
O Delia, win my thoughts to thine;
That half the colour of thy life is mine.
Yet, conscious of the dangerous charm,
Soon would I turn my steps away; Of haunted groves and tuneful streams,
Nor oft proroke the lovely harm, That woo'd my genius to divinest themes?
Not lull my reason's watchful sway.
But thou, my friend—I hear thy sighs: Say, goddess, can the festal board,
Alas! I read thy downcast eyes; Or young Olympia's form ador'd;
And thy tongue faulters; and thy colour flies. Say, can the pomp of promis d fame Relume thy faint, thy dying flame?
So soon again to meet the fair? Or have melodious airs the power
So pensive all this absent hour? To give one free, poetic hour?
LO yet, unlucky youth, beware, Or, from amid the Elysian train,
While yet to think is in thy power. The soul of Milton shall I gain,
In vain with friendship's flattering name To win thee back with some celestial strain ?
Thy passion veils its inward shame;
Friendship the treacherous fuel of thy flame! O powerful strain, O sacred soul! His numbers every sense control:
Once I remember, new to Love, And now again my bosom burns;
And dreading his tyrannic chain, The Muse, the Muse herself, returns.
I sought a gentle maid, to prove Such on the banks of Tyne, confess'd,
What peaceful joys in friendship reign; I hail'd the fair immortal guest,
Whence we forsooth might safely stand, When first she seald me for her own,
And pitying view the love-sick band, Made all her blissful treasures known,
And mock the winged boy's malicious hand. And bade me swear to follow her alone.
Thus frequent pass'd the cloudless day,
To smiles and sweet discourse resign'd ;
While I exulted to survey
One generous woman's real mind :
Till Friendship soon my languid breast
Each night with unknown cares possess'd,
Dash'd my coy slumbers, or my dreams distress'd. No, foolish youth-to virtuous fame If now thy early hopes be vow'd,
Fool that I was! And now, even now If true ambition's nobler flame
While thus I preach the Stoic strain, Command thy footsteps from the crowd,
Unless I shun Olympia's view, Lean not to Love's enchanting snare;
An hour unsays it all again. His songs, bis words, his looks beware,
O friend !-when Love directs her eyes Nor join his votaries, the young and fair.
To pierce where every passion lies,
Where is the firm, the cautious, or the wise ? By thought, by dangers, and by toils,
The wreath of just Renown is worn; Nor will Ambition's awful spoils
ODE XII. The flowery pomp of Ease adorn:
TO SIR FRANCIS HENRY DRAKE, BART.
BEHOLD, the Balance in the sky
To earthy caves the Dryads fly,
And the bare pastures Pan resigns. And heard from many a żealous breast, Late did the farmer's fork o'erspread The pleasing tale of Beauty's praise
With recent soil the twice-moun mead, In Wisdom's lofty language dress’d;
Tainting the bloom which autumn knows : Of Beauty, powerful to impart
He whets the rusty coulter now,
He binds his oxen to the plough,