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Beyond the measure vast of thought,
The Gaul, 'tis held of antique story,
No sea between, nor cliff sublime and hoary,
To the blown Baltic then, they say,
The wild waves found another way,
Till all the banded west at once 'gan rise,
Withering her giant sons with strange uncouth surprise.
By winds and inward labours torn, In thunders dread was push'd aside,
And down the shouldering billows borne.
The little isles on every side,
Where thousand elfin shapes abide,
For thee consenting Heaven has each bestow'd,
1. Strand:' this tradition is mentioned by several of our old historians. Some naturalists, too, have endeavoured to support the probability of the fact, by arguments drawn from the correspondent disposition of the two opposite coasts. I don't remember that any poetical use has been hitherto made of it.—2 Mona :' There is a tradition in the Isle of Man, that a mermaid, becoming enamoured of a young man of extraordinary beauty, took an opportunity of meeting him one day as he walked on the shore, and opened her passion to him, but was received with a coldness, occasioned by his horror and surprise at her appearance. This, however, was so misconstrued by the sea-lady, that, in revenge for his treatment of her, she punished the whole island, by covering it with a mist, so that all who attempted to carry on any commerce with it, either never arrived at it, but wandered up and down the sea, or were on a sudden wrecked upon its cliffs.
A fair attendant on her sovereign pride
To thee this blest divorce she owed, For thou hast made her vales thy loved, thy last abode !
How may the poet now unfold,
Even now, before his favour'd eyes,
Ye forms divine, ye laureate band,
ODE TO A LADY,
ON THE DEATH OF COLONEL CHARLES ROSS IN THE ACTION
Written, May 1745. 1 While, lost to all his former mirth, Britannia's genius bends to earth,
And mourns the fatal day :
The wreaths of cheerful May :
2 The thoughts which musing pity pays,
Your faithful hours attend :
And points the bleeding friend.
3 By rapid Scheld's descending wave
Where'er the youth is laid :
And Peace protect the shade.
4 O’er him, whose doom thy virtues grieve,
And bend the pensive head;
Shall point his lonely bed !
5 The warlike dead of every age,
Shall leave their sainted rest;
To hail the blooming guest.
6 Old Edward's sons, unknown to yield, Shall crowd from Cressy's laurell’d field,
And gaze with fix'd delight:
And wish th' avenging fight.
7 But lo! where, sunk in deep despair,
Impatient Freedom lies!
She turns her joyless eyes.
8 Ne'er shall she leave that lowly ground, Till notes of triumph bursting round
Proclaim her reign restored :
Present the sated sword.
9 If, weak to soothe so soft a heart,
To dry thy constant tear :
Wild war insulting near :