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M.DCC.LXX.

92

AKENSIDE'S POEMS.
Thy throbbing bosom; when the patriot's tear' Of flattering service, the fond multitude
Starts from thine eye, and thy extended arm Hung with their sudden counsels on the breath
In fancy hurls the thunderbolt of Jove

Of great Pisistratus : that chief renown'd,
To fire the impious wreath on Philip's brow, Whom Hermes and the Idalian queen had train'd
Or dash Octavius from the trophied car ;

Even from his birth to every powerful art
Say, doth thy secret soul repine to taste

Of pleasing and persuading; from whose lips The big distress? or wouldst thou then exchange Flow'd eloquence, which, like the vows of love, Those heart-ennobling sorrows for the lot

Could steal away suspicion from the hearts Of him who sits amid the gaudy herd

Of all who listen'd. Thus from day to day, Of silent flatterers bending to his nod,

He won the general suffrage, and beheld And o'er them, like a giant, casts his eye,

Each rival overshadow'd and depress'd
And says within himself, “I am a king,

Beneath his ampler state: yet oft complain'd,
And wherefore should the clamorous voice of Woe As one less kindly treated, who had hop'd
Intrude upon mine ear?” The dregs corrupt To merit favour, but submits perforce
Of barbarous ages, that Circæan draught

To find another's services preferr'd,
Of servitude and folly, have not yet,

Nor get relaxeth aught of faith or zeal. Bless'd be the eternal ruler of the world!

Then tales were scatter'd of his envious foes, Yet have not so dishonour'd, 60 deform'd

Of sŋares that watch'd his fame, of daggers aim'd The native judgment of the human soul,

Against his life. At last with trembling limbs,
Nor so effac'd the image of her sire.

His hair diffus'd and wild, his garments loose,
And stain'd with blood from self-inflicted wounds,
He burst into the public place, as there,
There only, were his refuge; and declard
In broken words, with sighs of deep regret,

The mortal danger he had scarce repellid.
PLEASURES OF THE IMAGINATION.

Fir'd with his tragic tale, the indignant crowd,
BOOK III.

To guard his steps, forthwith a menial band,
Array'd beneath his eye for deeds of war,
Decree. O still too liberal of their trust,

And oft betray'd by over-grateful love,
W:

Har tongue then may explain the various fate The generous people! Now behold him fenc'd
Which reigns o'er Earth? or who to mortal eyes By mercenary weapons, like a king,
Illustrate this perplexing labyrinth

Forth issuing from the city gate at eve
Of joy and woe through which the feet of inan To seck bis rural mansion, and with pomp
Are doom'd to wander ? That eternal mind Crowding the public road. The swain stops short,
From passions, wants, and envy far estrangd, And sighs: the officious townsmen stand at gaze,
Who built the spacions universe, and deck'd And, shrinking, give the sullen pageant room.
Fach part so richly with whate'er pertains

Yet not the less obsequious was his brow;
To life, to health, to pleasure; why bade he Nor less profuse of courteous words his tongue,
The viper Evil, creeping in, pollute

Of gracious gifts his hand; the while by stealth,
The goodly scene, and with insidious rage,

Like a small torrent fed with evening showers,
While the poor inmate looks around and sniles, His train increas'd. Till, at that fatal tine
Dart her fell sting with poison to his soul? Just as the public eye, with doubt and shame
Hard is the question, and from ancient days Startled, began to question what it saw,
Hath still oppress'd with care the sage's thonght; Swift as the sound of earthquakes rush'd a voice
Hath drawn forth accents from the poet's lyre Through Athens, that Pisistratus had fillid
Too sad, too deeply plaintive: nor did e'er The rocky citadel with hostile arms,
Those chiefs of human kind, from whom the light Had barr'd the steep ascent, and sate within
Of heavenly Truth first gleam'd on barbarous lands, Amid his hirelings, ineditating death
Forget this dreadful secret, when they told To all whose stubborn necks his yoke refus'd.
What wondrous things had to their favour'd eyes Where then was Solon? After ten long years
And ears on cloudy mountain been reveald, Of absence, full of haste from foreign shores
Or in deep cave by nymph or power divine, The sage, the lawgiver, had now arrivd:
Portentous oft and wild. Yet one I know,

Arriv’d, alas! to see that Athens, that
Could I the speech of lawgivers assume,

Pair temple rais'd by bim and sacred call'd
One old and splendid tale I would record To Liberty and Concord, now profan'd
With which the Muse of Solon in sweet strains By savage Hate, or sunk into a den
Adoru'd this theme profound, and render'd all Of slaves, who crouch beneath the master's scourge,
Its darkness, all its terrours, bright as noon, And deprecate bis wrath, and court his chains.
Or gentle as the golden star of eve.

Yet did not the wise patriot's grief impede
Who knows not Solon ? last, and wisest far, His virtuous will, nor was his heart inclin'd
Of those whom Greece triumphant in the height One moment with such woman-like distress
Of glory, styl'd her fathers ? him whose voice To view the transient storms of civil war,
Through Athens hush'd the storm of civil wrath; As thence to yield his country and her hopes
Taught envious Want and cruel Wealth to join To all-devouring bondage. His bright helm,
In friendship; and, with sweet compulsion, tam'd Ev'n while the traitor's impious act is told,
Alinerva's eager people to his laws,

He buckles on his hoary head: he girds
Which their own goddess in his breast inspir'd ? With mail his stooping breast: the shield, the spear
'Twas now the time when his heroic task

He snatcheth; and with swift indignant strides Seem'd but perform'd in vaju: when sooth'd by years The assembled people seeks : proclaims aloud

It was no time for counsel : in their spears High on his car be stood and wav'd his arm.
Lay all their prudence now, the tyrant yet Silence ensued! when straight the herald's voice
Was not so firmly seated on his throne,

Was heard, inviting every Grecian youth,
But that one shock of their united force

Whom Clisthenes content inignt call his son, Would dash him from the summit of his pride To visit, ere twice thirty days were pass'd, Headlong and groveling in the dust. What else The towers of Sicyon. There the chief decreed, Can re-assert the lost Athenian name

Within the circuit of the following year, So cheaply to the laughter of the world

To join at Hymen's altar, hand in hand Betray'd; by guile beneath an infant's faith With his fair daughter, him among the guests So mock'd and scorn'd? Away then: Freedom now Whom worthiest he should deem. Forthwith from all And Safety dwell not but with fame in arms: The bounds of Greece the ambitious wooers cames Myself will show you where their mansion lies, From rich Hesperea; from the Mlyrian shore And through the walks of Danger or of Death Where Epidamnus over Adria's surge Conduct you to them. While he spake, through all Looks on the setting Sun; from those brave tribes Their crowded ranks his quick sagacious eye Chaonian or Molossian whom the race He darted; where no cheerful voice was heard Of great Achilles governs, glorying still Of social daring; no stretch'd arm was seen In Troy o'erthrown; from rough Ætolia, nurse Hastening their common task: bat pale mistrust Of men who first among the Greeks threw off Wrinkled each brow: they shook their heads, and The yoke of kings, to commerce and to arms down

Devoted ; from Thessalia's fertile meads, Their slack bands hung: cold sighs and whisper'd Where flows Péneus near the lofty walls doubts

Of Cranon, old ; from strong Eretria, queen From breath to breath stole round. The sage mean Of all Eubean cities, who, sublime time

On the steep margin of Euripus, views Look'd speechless on, while his big bosom heavd Across the tide the Marathonian plain, Struggling with shame and sorrow : till at last Not yet the haunt of Glory. Athens too, A tear broke forth; and, “ O immortal shades, Mirierva's care, among her graceful sous O Theseus," he exclaim'd, * Codrus, where, Pound equal lovers for the princely maid : Where are ye now? behold for what ye toil'd Nor was proud Argos wanting ; nor the domes Through life! behold for whom ye chose to die!" Of sacred Elis; nor the Arcadian groves No more he added; but with lonely steps,

That overshade Alphéus, echoing oft [band Weary and slow, his silver beard depressid, Some shepherd's song. But through the illustrious And his stern eyes bent heedless on the ground, Was none who might with Megacles compare Back to his silent dwelling he repair'd.

In all the honours of unblemish'd youth. There o'er the gate, his armour, as a man

His was the beauteous bride: and now their son Whom from the service of the war his chief Young Clisthenes, betimes, at Solon's gate Dismisseth after no inglorious toil,

Stood anxious; leaning forward on the arm He fix'd in general view. One wishful look Of his great sire, with earnest eyes, that ask'd He sent, unconscious, toward the public place When the slow hinge would turn, with restless feet, At parting : then beneath his quiet roof

And cheeks now pale, now glowing: for his heart Without a word, without a sigh, retird.

Throbb'd, full of bursting passions, anger, grief Scarce had the morrow's Sun his golden rays With scorn embitter'd, by the generous boy From sweet Hymettus darted o'er the fanes Scarce understood, but which, like noble seeds, Of Cecrops to the Salaminian shores,

Are destin'd for his country and himself, When, lo! on Solon's threshold met the feet In riper years to bring forth fruits divine Of four Athenians by the same sad care

Of liberty and glory. Next appear'd Conducted all: than whom the state beheld Two brave companions, whom one mother bore None nobler. First came Megacles, the son To different lords; but whom the better ties Of great Alcmæon, whom the Lydian king, Of firm esteem and friendship rendered more The mild, unhappy Cresus, in his days

Than brothers: first Miltiades, who drew
Of glory had with costly gifts adorn'd,

From godlike Æacus his ancient line;
Fair vessels, splendid garments, tinctur'd webs, That Æacus whose unimpeach'd renown
And heaps of treasur'd gold beyond the lot For sanctity and justice won the lyre
Of many sov’reigns; thus requiting well

Of elder bards to celebrate him thron'd
That hospitable favour which erewhile

In Hades o'er the dead, where his decrees Alemæon to his messengers had shown,

The guilty soul within the burning gates Whom he with offerings worthy of the god

Of Tartarus compel, or send the good Sent from his throne in Sardis to revere

To inhabit with eternal health and peace Apollo's Delphic shrine. With Megacles

The vallies of Elysium. From a stem
Approach'd his son, whom Agarista bore,

So sacred, ne'er could worthier scion spring
The virtuous child of Clisthenes, whose hand Than this Miltiades; whose aid erelong
Of Grecian sceptres the most ancient far

The chiefs of Thrace, already on their ways
In Sicyon sway'd: but greater fame he drew Sent by the inspir'd foreknowing maid who sits
From arms control'd by justice, from the love Upon the Delphic tripod, shall implore
Of the wise Muses, and the unenvied wreath To wield their sceptre, and the rural wealth
Which glad Olympia gave. For thither once of fruitful Chersonesus to protect
His warlike steeds the hero led, and there

With arins and laws. But, nothing careful now, Contended through the tumult of the course Save for his injur'd country, here he stands With skilful wheels. Then victor at the goal, In deep solicitude with Cymon joind: Amid the applauses of assembled Greece, Unconscious both vhat widely different lots

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Await them, taught by Nature as they are Again to supplicate the unwilling crowd,
To know one common good, one common ill. To rescue from a vile deceiver's hold
For Cymon not his valour, not his birth

That envied power which once with eager zeal
Deriv'd from Codrus, not a thousand gifts

They offer'd to myself; nor can I plunge Dealt round him with a wise, benignant hand, In counsels deep and various, nor prepare No, not the Olympic olive by himself

For distant wars, thus faultering as I tread From his own brow transferr'd to sooth the mind On life's last verge, ere long to join the shades Of this Pisistratus, can long preserve

Of Minos and Lycurgus. But behold From the fell envy of the tyrant's sons,

What care einploys me now. My vows I pay And their assassin dagger. But if Death

To the sweet Muses, teachers of my youth, Obscure upon his gentle steps attend,

And solace of iny age. If right I deem Yet Fate an ample recompense prepares

Of the still voice that whispers at my heart, In his victorious son, that other great

The immortal sisters have not quite withdrawn Miltiades, who o'er the very throne

Their old harmonious influence. Let your tonnes of glory shall with Time's assiduous hand

With sacred silence favour what I speak, In adamantine characters engrave

And haply shall my faithful lips be taught The name of Athens; and, by freedom arm'd To unfold celestial counsels, which may arın 'Gainst the gigantic pride of Asia's king,

As with impenetrable steel yoar breasts Shall all the achievements of the heroes old For the long strife before you, and repel Surmount, of Hercules, of all who sail'd

The darts of adverse Fate.” He said, and snatch'd From Thessaly with Jason, all who fought

The laurel bough, and sate in silence down, For empire or for fame at Thebes or Troy. Fix'd, wrapp'd in solemn musing, full before

Such were the patriots who within the porch The Sun, who now from all his radiant orb Of Solon had assembled. But the gate

Drove the grey clouds, and pour'd his genial light Now opens, and across the ample floor

Upon the breast of Solon. Solon rais'd Straight they proceed into an open space

Aloft the leafy rod, and thus began. Bright with the beams of morn: a verdant spot, .“ Ye beauteous offspring of Olympian Jore Where stands a rural altar, pild with sods And Memory divine, Pierian maids, Cut from the grassy turf, and girt with wreaths Hear me, propitious. In the norn of life, Of branching palm. Here Solon's self they found When hope shone bright, and all the prospect smilch, Clad in a robe of purple pure, and deck'd To your sequester'd mansion oft my steps With leaves of olive on his reverend brow.

Were turn'd, O Muses, and within your gate He bow'd before the altar, and o'er cakes

My offerings paid. Ye taught me then with strains Of barley from two earthern vessels pour'd Of flowing harmony to soften War's Of honey and of milk a plenteous stream; Dire voice, or in fair colours, that might charm Calling meantime the Muses to accept

The public eye, to clothe the form austere His simple offering, by no victim ting'd

Of Civil Counsel. Now my feeble age With blood, nor sullied by destroying fire, Neglected, and supplanted of the hope "But such as for himself Apollo claims

On which it lean'd, yet sinks not, but to you,
In his own Delos, where his favourite haunt To your mild wisdom flies, refuge belor'd
Is thence the Altar of the Pious nam'd.

Of solitude and silence. Ye can teach
Unseen the guests drew near, and silent view'd The visions of my bed whate'er the gods
That worship; till the hero priest his eye

In the rude ages of the world inspir'd, Turn'd toward a seat on which prepar'd there lay Or the first heroes acted: ye can make A branch of laurel. Then his friends confess'd The morning light more gladsome to my sense, Before him stood. Backward his step he drew, Than ever it appeard to active youth As loth that care or tumult should approach Pursuing careless pleasure: ye can give Those early rites divine: but soon their looks, To this long leisure, these unheeded hours, So anxious, and their hands, held forth with such A labour as sublime, as when the sons Desponding gesture, bring him on perforce Of Athens throng'd and speechless round me stood To speak to their affliction. “ Are ye come,” To hear pronounc'd for all their future deeds He cried, “ to mourn with me this common shame? The bounds of right and wrong. Celestial powers, Or ask ye some new effort which may brcak I feel that ye are near me: and behold, Our fetters? Know then, of the public cause To meet your energy divine, I bring Not for yon traitor's cunning or his might

A high and sacred theme; not less than those Do I despair: nor could I wish from Jove

Which to the eternal custody of Fame Aught dearer, than at this late hour of life, Your lips entrusted, when of old ye deign'd As once by laws, so now by strenuous arms With Orpheus or with Homer to frequent From impious violation to assert

The groves of Hæmus or the Chian shore. The rights our fathers left us. But, alas!

“ Ye know, harmonious maids, (for what of all What arms? or who shall wield them? Ye beheld My various life was e'er from you estrang'a ?) The Athenian people. Many bitter days

Oft hath my solitary song to you
Must pass, and many wounds from cruel pride Reveal'd that duteous pride which turn'd my steps
Be felt, ere yet their partial bearts find room To willing exile; earnest to withdraw
For just resentment, or their hands endure From Envy and the disappointed thirst
To smite this tyrant brood, so near to all

Of Lucre, lest the bold familiar strife,
Their hopes, so oft admir'd, so long belov'd. Which in the eye of Athens they upheld
That time will come, however. Be it yours Against her legislator, should impair
To watch its fair approach, and urge it on

With trivial doubt the reverence of his laws. With honest prudence: me it ill beseenus

To Egypt therefore through the Ægean isless

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sly course I steerd, and by the banks of Nile Their sports, their labours, ever plac'd within, Dwelt in Canopus. Thence the hallow'd domes O shade of Minos, thy controlling eye! Of Sais, and the rites to Isis paid,

Here was a docile band in tuneful tones I sought, and in her temple's silert courts,

Thy laws pronouncing, or with lofty hymns Through many changing moons, attentive heard Praising the bounteous gods, or, to preserve The venerable Sonchis, while his tongue

Their country's heroes from oblivious night, At morn or midnight the deep story told

Resounding what the Muse inspir'd of old ; Of her who represents whate'er has been,

There, on the verge of manhood, others met, Or is, or shall be ; whose mysterious veil

In heavy armour through the heats of noon No mortal hand hath ever yet removd.

To march, the rugged mountains height to climb By him exhorted, southward to the walls

With measur'd swiftness, from the hard-bent box Of On I pass'd, the city of the Sun,

To send resistless arrows to their mark, The ever-youthful god. 'Twas there amid Or for the fame of prowess to contend, His priests and sages, who the live-long night Now wrestling, now with fists and stares opposid, Watch the dread movements of the starry sphere, Now with the biting falchion, and the fence Or who in wondrous fables half disclose

Of brazen shields; wbile still the warbling flute The secrets of the elements, 'twas there

Presided o'er the combat, breathing strains That great Psenophis taught my raptur'd ears Grave, solemn, soft; and changing headlong spite The fame of old Atlantis, of her chiefs,

To thoughtful resolution cool and clear. And her pure laws, the first which Earth obey'd. Such I beheld those islanders renown'd, Deep in my bosom sunk the noble tale;

So tutor'd from their birth to meet in war And often, while I listen'd, did my mind

Each bold invader, and in peace to guard Foretell with what delight her own free Igre That living flame of reverence for their laws Should sometime for an Attic audience raise Which, nor the storms of fortune, nor the flood Anew that lofty scene, and from their tombs Of foreign wealth diffus'd o'er all the land, Call forth those ancient demigods to speak Could quench or slacken. First of human names Of Justice and the hidden Providence

In every Cretan's heart was Minos still; That walk among mankind. But yet meantime And holiest far, of what the Sun surveys The mystic pomp of Ammon's gloomy sons Through his whole course, were those primeval seats Became less pleasing. With contempt I gaz'd Which with religious footsteps he had taught On that tame garb and those unvarying paths Their sires to approach ; the wild Dictæan care To which the double yoke of king and priest Where Jove was born; the erer-verdant meads Had cramp'd the sullen race. At last, with hymns Of Ida, and the spacious grotto, where Invoking our own Pallas and the gods

His active youth he pass'd, and where his throne. Of cheerful Greece, a glad farewell I gave

Yet stands mysterious; whither Minos came To Egypt, and before the southern wind

Each ninth returning year, the king of gods
Spread my full sails. What climes I then survey'd, and mortals there in secret to consult
What fortunes I encounter'd in the realm

On justice, and the tables of his law
Of Cræsus or upon the Cyprian shore,

To inscribe anew. Oft also with like zeal The Muse, who prompts my bosom, doth not now Great Rhea's mansion from the Cnossian gates Consent that I reveal. But when at length Men visit; nor less oft the antique fane Ten times the Sun returning from the south Built on that sacred spot, along the banks Had strow'd with flowers the verdant Earth and fill's Of shady Theron, where benignant Jove The groves with music, pleas'd I then beheld And his majestic consort join'd their bands The term of those long errours drawing nigh. And spoke their nuptial vows. Alas! 'twas there Nor yet, I said, will I sit down within

That the dire fame of Athens sunk in bonds The walls of Athens, till my feet have trod I first receiv'd; what time an annual feast The Cretan soil, have pierc'd those reverend haunts Had summon'd all the genial country round, Whence Law and Civil Concord issued forth By sacrifice and pomp to bring to mind As from their ancient home, and still to Greece That first great spousal; while the enamour'd youths Their wisest, loftiest discipline proclaim.

And virgins, with the priest before the shrine,
Straight where Amnisus, mart of wealthy ships, Observe the same pure ritual, and invoke
Appears beneath fam'd Cnossus and her towers The same glad omens. There, among the crowd
Like the fair handmaid of a stately queen, Of strangers from those naval cities drawn
I checkd my prow, and thence with eager steps Which deck, like gems, the island's northern shore,
The city of Minos enter'd. ye gods,

A merchant of Ægina I describ'd,
Who taught the leaders of the simpler time My ancient host. But, forward as I sprung
By written words to curb the untoward will To meet him, he, with dark dejected brow,
Of mortals, how within that generous isle

Stopp'd half-averse; and, ‘O Athenian guest,'
Have ye the triumphs of your power displayed He said, 'art thou in Crete; these joyful rites
Munificent! Those splendid merchants, lords Partaking? Know thy laws are blotted out:
Of traffic and the sea, with what delight

Thy country kneels before a tyrant's throne,' I saw them at their public meal, like sons

He added names of men, with hostile deeds Of the same household, join the plainer sort Disastrous; which obscure and indistinct Whose wealth was only freedom whence to these I heard : for, while he spake, my heart grew cold Vile Envy, and to those fantastic Pride,

And my eyes dim: the altars and their train Alike was strange; but noble Concord still No more were present to me: how I fard, Cherish'd the strength intam'd, the rustic faith, Or whither turn'd, I know not; nor recall Of their first fathers. Then the growing race, Aught of those moments other than the sense How pleasing to behold them in their schools, Of one who struggles in oppressive sleep,

1

Await them, taught by Nature as they are Again to supplicate the unwilling crowd,
To know one common good, one common ill. To rescue from a vile deceiver's hold
For Cymon not his valour, not his birth

That envied power which once with eager zeal Deriv'd from Codrus, not a thousand gifts

They offer'd to myself; nor can I plunge Dealt round him with a wise, benignant hand, In counsels deep and varioas, nor prepare No, not the Olympic olive by himself

For distant wars, thus faultering as I tread From his own brow transferr'd to sooth the mind On life's last verge, ere long to join the shades Of this Pisistratus, can long preserve

Of Minos and Lycurgus. But behold From the fell envy of the tyrant's sons,

What care einploys me now. My vows I pay And their assassin dagger. But if Death

To the sweet Muses, teachers of my youth, Obscure upon his gentle steps attend,

And solace of iny age. If right I deem Yet Fate an ample recompense prepares

Of the still voice that whispers at my heart, In his victorious son, that other great

The immortal sisters have not quite withdrawn Miltiades, who o'er the very throne

Their old harmonious influence. Let your tourgues of glory shall with Time's assiduous hand

With sacred silence favour what I speak, In adamantine characters engrave

And haply shall my faithful lips be taught The name of Athens; and, by freedom arm'd To unfold celestial counsels, which may arın 'Gainst the gigantic pride of Asia's king,

As with impenetrable steel yoar breasts Shall all the achievements of the heroes old For the long strife before you, and repel Surmount, of Hercules, of all who sail'd

The darts of adverse Fate.” He said, and snatch'd From Thessaly with Jason, all who fought

The laurel bough, and sate in silence down, For empire or for fame at Thebes or Troy.

Fix'd, wrapp'd in solemn musing, full before Such were the patriots who within the porch The Sun, who now from all his radiant orb Of Solon had assembled. But the gate

Drove the grey clouds, and pour'd his genial light Now opens, and across the ample floor

Upon the breast of Solon Solon rais'd Straight they proceed into an open space

Aloft the leafy rod, and thus began. Bright with the beams of morn: a verdant spot, .“ Ye beauteous offspring of Olympian Jore Where stands a rural altar, pild with sods

And Memory divine, Pierian maids, Cut from the grassy turf, and girt with wreaths Hear me, propitious. In the morn of life, Of branching palm. Here Solon's self they found When hope shone bright, and all the prospect smilch Clad in a robe of purple pure, and deck'd To your sequester'd mansion oft my steps With leaves of olive on his reverend brow.

Were turn'd, O Muses, and within your gate He bow'd before the altar, and o'er cakes

My offerings paid. Ye taught me then with strails Of barley from two earthern vessels pourd Of flowing harmony to soften War's Of honey and of milk a plenteous stream; Dire voice, or in fair colours, that might charm Calling meantime the Muses to accept

The public eye, to clothe the form austere His simple offering, by no victim ting'd

Of Civil Counsel. Now my feeble age With blood, nor sullied by destroying fire, Neglected, and supplanted of the hope But such as for himself Apollo claims

On which it lean'd, yet sinks not, but to you, In his own Delos, where his favourite haunt To your mild wisdom flies, refuge belor'd Is thence the Altar of the Pious nam'd.

Of solitude and silence. Ye can teach Unseen the guests drew near, and silent viewd The visions of my bed whate'er the gods That worship; till the hero priest his eye

In the rude ages of the world inspird, Turn'd toward a seat on which prepar'd there lay Or the first heroes acted: ye can make A branch of laurel., Then his friends confess'd The morning light more gladsome to my sense, Before him stood. Backward his step he drew, Than ever it appear'd to active youth As loth that care or tumult should approach Pursuing careless pleasure: ye can give Those early rites divine: but soon their looks, To this long leisure, these unheeded hours, So anxious, and their hands, held forth with such A labour as sublime, as when the sons Desponding gesture, bring him on perforce Of Athens throng'd and speechless round me stood To speak to their affliction. “ Are ye come,” To hear pronounc'd for all their future deeds He cried, “ to mourn with me this common shame? The bounds of right and wrong. Celestial powers, Or ask ye some new effort which may break I feel that ye are near me: and behold, Our fetters ? Know then, of the public cause To meet your energy divine, I bring Not for yon traitor's cunning or his might

A high and sacred theme; not less than those Do I despair: nor could I wish from Jove Which to the eternal custody of Fame Anght dearer, than at this late hour of life, Your lips entrusted, when of old ye deign'd As once by laws, so now by strenuous arms, With Orpheus or with Homer to frequent From impious violation to assert

The groves of Hæmus or the Chian shore. The rights our fathers left us. But, alas!

“ Ye know, harmonious maids, (for what of all What arms ? or who shall wield them? Ye beheld My various life was e'er from you estrang'd?) The Athenian people. Many bitter days

Oft hath my solitary song to you
Must pass, and many wounds from cruel pride Reveald that duteous pride which turn'd my step
Be felt, ere yet their partial hearts find room To willing exile; earnest to withdraw
For just resentment, or their hands endure From Envy and the disappointed thirst
To smite this tyrant brood, so near to all

Of Lucre, lest the bold familiar strife,
Their hopes, so oft admir'd, so long belov'd. Which in the eye of Athens they upheld
That time will come, however. Be it yours Against her legislator, should impair
To watch its fair approach, and urge it on

With trivial doubt the reverence of his laws.
With honest prudence: me it ill beseems To Egypt therefore through the Ægean isles

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