Or turn to nobler, greater tasks thy care, And be the sure resource of drooping age. So when the genial spring of life shall fade, And sinking nature owns the dread decay, Some soul congenial then may lend its aid, And gild the close of life's eventful day. $140. Extract from a Poem on his own approaching Death, by MICHAEL BRUCE. Now spring returns; but not to me returns The vernal joy my better years have known: Dim in my breast life's dying taper burns, And all the joys of life with health are flown. Starting and shiv'ring in th' inconstant wind, And lay me down in peace with them that rest. Oft morning dreams presage approaching fate; Which mortals visit, and return no more. Farewell, ye blooming fields! ye cheerful plains! Enough for me the churchyard's lonely mound, Where Melancholy with still Silence reigns, And the rank grass waves o'er the cheerless ground. There let me wander at the close of eve, When sleep sits dewy on the laborer's eyes, The world and all its busy follies leave, And talk with wisdom where my Daphnis lies. There let me sleep, forgotten, in the clay, When death shall shut these weary aching eyes, Rest in the hopes of an eternal day, morn arise. Ah! let the gay, the roseate morning hail, Yet dearer to my soul the shadowy hour, Wakes the soft tear 'tis luxury to shed. § 142. Sonnet to Expression. MISS WILLIAMS. EXPRESSION, child of soul! I love to trace Thy strong enchantments, when the poet's lyre, The painter's pencil, catch the vivid fire, Mourns it could sharpen ill, and give despair But most for this, pale orb! thy light is dear, | By Pella's Bard, a magic name, $145. On the Recovery of a Lady of Quality from the Small-Pox. SAVAGB. LONGalov'd fair had bless'd her consort's sight With amorous pride, and undisturb'd delight; Till Death, grown envious, with repugnant aim ⚫ Frown'd at their joys, and urg'd a tyrant's claim. He summons each disease!-the noxious crew, Writhing in dire distortions, strike his view! From various plagues, which various natures know, Forth rushes beauty's fear'd and fervent foe. Fierce to the fair the missile mischief flies, The sanguine streams in raging ferments rise! It drives, ignipotent, through every vein, Hangs on the heart, and burns around the brain! Now a chill damp the charmer's lustre dims: fire. Here stands her consort, sore with anguish press'd, Grief in his eye, and terror in his breast. While these revolve, though mute each Muse appears, Each speaking eye drops eloquence in tears. advance ? Phœbus unseen arrests that threatening lance! § 146. Ode to Pity. COLLINS. By all the griefs his thought could frame, But wherefore need I wander wide Deserted stream, and mute? There first the wren thy myrtles shed To him thy cell was shown: Its southern site, its truth complete In all who view the shrine. There Picture's toil shall well relate O'er mortal bliss prevail : The buskin'd Muse shall near her stand, Allow'd with thee to dwell:" With all its shadowy shapes is shown; know thy hurried step, thy haggard eye! For, lo, what monsters in thy train appear! Like thee I start, like thee disorder'd fly; Danger, whose limbs of giant mould What mortal eye can fix'd behold? Who stalks his round, a hideous form, Howling amidst the midnight storm, Or throws him on the rigid steep Of some loose hanging rock to sleep; And with him thousand phantoms join'd, Who prompt to deeds accurst the mind: And those, the fiends, who near allied, O'er nature's wounds and wrecks preside; While Vengeance, in the lurid air, Lifts her red arm, expos'd and bare : On whom that ravening brood of fate, Who lap the blood of Sorrow, wait : Who, Fear, this ghastly train can see, And look not madly wild, like thee? * A river in Sussex. EPODE. In earliest Greece, to thee, with partial choice, The grief-full Muse address'd her infant tongue, The maids and matrons, on her awful voice, But who is he, whom later garlands grace, Wrapt in thy cloudy veil th' incestuous Queent Sigh'd the sad call her son and husband heard, When once alone it broke the silent scene, And he the wretch of Thebes no more appear'd. O Fear, I know thee by my throbbing heart, Thy withering pow'r inspir'd each mournful line; Though gentle Pity claim her mingled part, Yet all the thunders of the scene are thine. ANTISTROPHE. Thou, who such weary length hast past, Where wilt thou rest, mad nymph, at last? Say, wilt thou shroud in haunted cell, Where gloomy Rape and Murder dwell? Or in some hollow'd seat, Gainst which the big waves beat, Hear drowning seamen's cries in tempests brought! Dark pow'r, with shuddering meek submitted thought, Be mine, to read the visions old, Ne'er be I found, by thee o'eraw'd, $148. Ode to Simplicity. COLLINS. O THOU, by Nature taught, To breathe her genuine thought, O chaste, unboastful nymph, to thee I call! By all the honey'd store On Hybla's thymy shore, By all her blooms, and mingled murmurs dear, In evening musings slow, Who spread his wavy sweep In warbled wand'rings round thy green retreat, On whose enamell'd side, No When holy Freedom died, equal haunt allur'd thy future feet. Thy sober aid and native charms infuse! Still ask thy hand to range their order'd hues. You lov'd her hills, and led her laureate band; To one distinguish'd throne, And turn'd thy face, and fled her alter'd land. No more, in hall or bow'r, The passions own thy pow'r. Love, only Love her forceless numbers mean; Shall gain thy feet to bless the servile scene. To some divine excess, Faint's the cold work till thou inspire the whole; What each, what all supply, May court, may charm our eye, Thou, only thou, canst raise the meeting soul! Of these let others ask, To aid some mighty task, As one, if, not with light regard, In numbers warmly pure, and sweetly strong: At solemn tournay hung on high, Who first on mountains wild, In Fancy, loveliest child, Thy babe and Pleasure's nurs'd the pow'rs of song! The wish of each love-darting eye! As if, in air unseen, some hovering hand, Some chaste and angel-friend to virgin fame, Florimel. See Spenser, Leg 4. It left unblest her loath'd dishonor'd side: Happy, her hopeless fair, if never Her baffled hand with vain endeavour Had touch'd that fatal zone to her denied! Young Fancy thus, to me divinest name, To whom, prepar'd and bath'd in heaven, And Heaven and Fancy, kindred pow'rs, Have now o'erturn'd th' inspiring bow'rs, Or curtain'd close such scene from every future view. $150. Ode. Written in the year 1746. COLLINS. How sleep the brave, who sink to rest By all their country's wishes blest! And gaze her vision wild, and feel unmix'd her When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, flame! The band, as fairy legends say, Was wove on that creating day When he, who call'd with thought to birth And thou, thou rich-hair'd youth of morn, Its glooms embrown, its springs unlock; On which that ancient trump he reach'd was hung: Thither oft, his glory greeting, From Waller's myrtle shades retreating, With many a vow from Hope's aspiring tongue, My trembling feet his guiding steps pursue; In vain such bliss to one alone Of all the sons of soul was known, Returns to deck their hallow'd mould, § 151. Ode to Mercy. COLLINS. STROPHE. O THOU, who sitt'st a smiling bride By Valor's arm'd and awful side, Gentlest of sky-born forms, and best adorn'd: Who oft with songs, divine to hear, Winn'st from his fatal grasp the spear, And hid'st in wreaths of flowers his bloodless sword! Thou who, amidst the deathful field, Oft with thy bosom bare art found, ANTISTROPHE. When he whom e'en our joys provoke, The fiend of Nature, join'd his yoke, And rush'd in wrath to make our isle his prey; Thy form, from out thy sweet abode, O'ertook him on his blasted road, And stopp'd his wheels, and look'd his rage away. I see recoil'd his sable steeds, That bore him swift to savage deeds; Thy tender melting eyes they own, O Maid, for all thy love to Britain shown, Where Justice bars her iron tow'r, To thee we build a roseate bow'r, Thou, thou shalt rule our queen, and share our monarch's throne. § 152. Ode to Liberty. COLLINS. STROPHE. WHO shall awake the Spartan fife, And call in solemn sounds to life The youths whose locks divinely spreading, At once the breath of fear and virtue shedding, At Wisdom's shrine a while its flame conceal- (What place so fit to seal a deed renown'd?) EPODE. Yet, e'en where'er the least appear'd, In jealous Pisa's olive shade; Nor e'er her former pride relate ANTISTROPHE. Beyond the measure vast of thought, To the blown Baltic then, they say, Till all the banded west at once 'gan rise, ing, Withering her giant sons, with strange un- This pillar'd earth, so firm and wide, And down the shouldering billows borne. Monat, once hid from those who search'd the Where thousand elfin shapes abide, And Wight, who checks the western tideFor thee consenting heaven has each bestow'd A fair attendant on her sovereign pride; To thee this blest divorce she ow'd, abode. The Dutch: among whom there are very severe penalties for those who are convicted of killing this bird. They are kept tame in almost all their towns, and particularly at the Hague, of the arms of which they make a part. The common people of Holland are said to entertain a superstitious sentiment, that if the whole species of them should become extinct, they should lose their liberties. ↑ 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 do not remember that any poetical use has been hitherto made of it. There is a tradition in the Isle of Man, that a Mermaid, becoming enamoured of a young man of extraordinary beauty, took the 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 own the sea, or were on a sudden wrecked upon its cliffs. |