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Or turn to nobler, greater tasks thy care, Ah! let the gay, the roseate morning hail,
To nie thy sympathetic gifts impart ; When, in the various blooms of light array'd, Teach me in Friendship's grief to bear a share, She bids fresh beauty live along the vale,
And justly boast the generous feeling heart. And rapture tremble in the vocal shade:
Sweet is the lucid morning's op’ning flow'r,
Her choral melodies benignly rise ; With timely aid the widow's woe assuage,
Yet dearer to my soul the shadowy hour, To Misery's moving cry to yield relief,
At which her blossoms close, her music dies : And be the sure resource of drooping age.
For then mild nature, while she droops her So when the genial spring of life shall fade,
§ 142. Sonnet to Expression.
Miss WILLIAMS. $140. Extract from a Poem on his own ap- | Expression, child of soul! I love to trace
proaching Death, by Michael Bruce. Thy strong enchantments, when the poet's Now spring returns; but not to me returns
Jyre, The vernal joy my better years have known :|
The painter's pencil, catch the vivid fire, Dim in my breast life's dying taper burns, And beauty wakes for thee each touching grace! And all the joys of life with health are But from my frighted gaze thy form avert, flown.
When horror chills thy tear, thy ardent sigh,
When phrensy rolls in thy impassion'd eye, Starting and shir'ring in th' inconstant wind,
Or guilt lives fearful at thy troubled heart; Meagre and pale, the ghost of what I was,
Nor ever let my shudd'ring fancy hear Beneath some blasted tree I lie reclin'd,
The wasting groan, or view the pallid look And count the silent moments as they pass :
Of bin the Muses lov'd *, when hope forsook The winged moments, whose unstaying speed His spirit, vainly to the Muses dear
No art can stop, or in their course arrest; For charm'd with heavenly song, this bleeding Whose flight shall shortly count me with the breast dead,
Mourns it could sharpen ill, and give despair And lay me down in peace with them that
no rest! rest. Oft morning dreams presage approaching fate;
$ 143. Sonnet to Hope. And morning dreains, as poets tell, are true:
Miss WILLIAMS. Ia by pale ghosts, I enter death's dark gate, O, ever skill'd to wear the form we love!
And bid the realms of light and life adieu! To bid the shapes of fear and grief depart, I hear the helpless wail, the shriek of woe;
Come, gentle Hope, with one gay smile remove
The lasting sadness of an aching heart;
Thy voice, benign enchantress ? let me hear;
Say that for me some pleasures yet shall bloom! Which mortals visit, and return no more.
That fancy's radiance, friendship's precious Farewell, ye blooming fields! ye cheerful 1 tear, plains !
Shall soften, or shall chase, misfortune's Enough for me the churchyard's lonely
But conie not glowing in the dazzling ray Where Melancholy with still Silence reigns, Which once with dear illusions charm'd my And the rank grass waves o'er the cheerless
O strew no more, sweet flatterer! on my way There let me wander at the close of eve,
The flow'rs I fondly thought too bright to die. _When sleep sits dewy on the laborer's eyes,
Visions less fair will soothe my pensive breast, The world and all its busy follies leave, That asks not happiness, but longs for rest! And talk with wisdom where my Daphnis
$ 144. Sonnet to the Moon.
Miss WILLIAMS. There let me sleep, forgotten, in the clay,. The glittering colours of the day are fled When death shall shut these weary aching | Come, melancholy orb! that dwell'st with eyes,
night; Rest in ihe hopes of an eternal day, Till the long night is gone, and the last
Come! and 'o'er earth thy wand'ring lustre
shed, morn arise.
Thy deepest shadow and thy softest light.
To me congenial is the glooiny grore, $ 141. Sonnet to Twilight.
When with faint rays the sloping uplands Miss WILLIAMS.
shine; Mzek Twilight! haste to shroud the solar ray, That gloom. 'those pensive rays, alike I love. And bring the hour my pensive spirit loves ;
| Whose sadness seems in sympathy with mine! When o'er the hill is shed a paler day, That gives to stillness, and to night, the groves.
But most for this, pale orb! thy light is dear, By Pella's Bard, a magic name,
“Receive my humble rite:
But wherefore need I wander wide
SAVAGB. Deserted stream, and mute? Longalov'd fair had bless'd her consort's sight
Wild Arun* too has heard thy strains, With amorous pride, and undisturb'd delight;
And Echo, 'midst iny native plains, Till Death, grown envious, with repugnantaim
Been sooth’d by Píty's lute. • Frown'd at their joys, and urg'd a tyrant's clain. There first the wren thy myrtles shed
He suminons each disease !--the noxious crew, On gentlest Otway's infant head : * Writhing in dire distortions, strike his view! [ To him thy cell was shown : From various plagues, which various natures And while he sung the female heart, know,
With youih's soft notes unspoild by art, Forth rushes beauty's fear'd and fervent foe. The turtles mix'd their own. Fierce to the fair the missile mischief flies,
Come, Pity, come, by fancy's aid, The sanguine streams in raging ferments rise! | E'en now my thoughts, relenting maid, It drives, ignipotent, through every vein,
| Thy temple's pride design : Hangs on the heart, and burns around the Its southern site its truth complete brain !
Shall raise a wild enthusiast heat,
In all who view the shrine.
There Picture's toil shall well relate
| How chance or hard involving fate, fire.
"O | O'er mortal bliss prevail : Here stands her consort, sore with anguish | The buskin'd Muse shall near her stand, press'd,
And sighing prompt her tender hand,
In dreams of passion melt away,
Till, Virgin, thou again delight While these revolve, though mute each Muse To hear a British shell !
appears, Each speaking eye drops eloquence in tears.
$147. Ode to Fear. COLLINS. On the ninth noon greatPhæbus listening bends, Thou, to whom the world anknown On the ninth noon each voicein prayer ascends | With all its shadowy shapes is shown; Great God of light, of song, and physic's art, | Who seest appall'd ih' unreal scene. Restore the languid fair, new soul impart! While Fancy lifts the veil between : Her beauty, wit, and virtue claim thy care,
Ab, Fear! ah, frantic fear! And thine own bounty's almost rivall'd there.
I see, I see thee near. Each paus'd: the god assents. Would death I know
I know thy hurried step, thy haggard eye! advance ?
Like thee I start, like thee disorder'd fly; Phæbus unseen arrests that threatening lance!
ning lance: For, lo, what monsters in thy train appear! Down from his orb a vivid influence streams, | Danger, whose limbs of giant mould And quickening earth imbibes salubrious beams; / What mortal eye can fix'd behold? Each balmy plant increase of virtue knows,
| Who stalks his round, a hideous form, And art inspird with all her patron glows. The charmer's opening eye kind hope reveals, l Or throws him on the rigid steep
| Howling amidst the midnight storm, Kind hope ber consort's breast enlivening feels; of some loose hanging rock to sleep; Each grace revives, each Muse resumes the lyre,
And with him thousand phantoms join'd, Each beauty brightens with relumin'd fire:
Who prompt to deeds accurst the mind: As health's auspicious pow'rs gay life display,
And those, the fiends, who near allied, Death, sullen at the sight, stalks slow away.
O'er nature's wounds and wrecks preside;
While Vengeance, in the lurid air, $ 146. Ode to Pity. Collins.
Lifts her red arm, expos'd and bare : O THOU, the friend of man assign'd, On whom that ravening brood of fate, With balmy hands his wounds to bind, Who lap the blood of Sorrow, wait: And charmı bis frantic woe;
Who, Fear, this ghastly train can see, When first Distress, with dagger keen, And look not madly wild, like thee? Broke forth to waste his destin'd scene, His wild unsated foc!
• A river in Sussex.
Thou, who with hermit heart In earliest Greece, to thee, with partial choice, Disdain'st the wealth of art, The grief-full Muse address'd her infant | And gauds, and pageant weeds, and trailing tongue,
pall : The maids and matrons, on her awful voice, But com’st a decent maid, Silent and pale, in wild amazement hung.
In Attic robe array'd, Yet he, the Bard* who first invok'd thy name, O chaste, unboastful nymph, to thee I call !
Disdain'd in Marathon its pow'r to feel : | By all the honey'd store For not alone he nurs'd the poet's flame,
On Hybla's thymy shore, But reach'd from Virtue's hand the patriot's By all her blooms, and mingled murmurs dear, steel.
By her whose love-lorn woe.
In evening musings slow,
In warbled wand'rings round thy green retreat,
When holy Freedom died, When once alone it broke the silent scene,
No equal haunt allur'd thy future feet. And he the wretch of Thebes no more ap
O sister meek of Truth, pear'd.
To my admiring youth O Fear, I know thee by my throbbing heart,
Thy sober aid and native charms infuse ! Thy withering pow'r inspir'd each mournful
The flow'rs that sweetest breathe, line;
Though beauty cull’d the wreath, Though gentle Pity claim her mingled part,
Still ask thy hand to range their order'd hues. Yet all the thunders of the scene are thine.
While Rome could none esteem,
But virtue's patriot theme,
To one distinguish'd throne, Where gloomy Rape and Murder dwell ? And turn'd thy face, and Aed her alter'd land. Or in some hollow'd seat,
No more, in hall or bow'r, 'Gainst which the big waves beat,
The passions own thy pow's. Hear drowning seamen's cries in tempests Love, only Love her forceless numbers mean; brought!
For thou hast left her shrine, Dark pow'r, with shuddering meek submitted Nor olive more, nor vine, thought,
Shall gain thy feet to bless the servile scene. Be mine, to read the visions old,
Though taste, though genius bless. Which thy awakening bards have told,
To some divine excess, And, lest thou meet my blasted view
Faint's the cold work till thou inspire the Hold each strange tale devoutly true.
whole; Ne'er be I found, by thee o'eraw'd,
What each, what all supply,
May court, may charm our eye,
Thou, only thou, canst raise the meeting soul ! And goblins haunt from fire, or fen,
Of these let others ask, Or mine, or food, the walks of men !
To aid some mighty task, O thou, whose spirit most possess'd
I only seek to find thy temperate vale; The sacred seat of Shakspeare's breast !
Where oft my reed might sound
To maids and shepherds round,
And all thy sons, O Nature, learn my tale. Hither again thy fury deal,
$ 149. Ode on the Poetical Character. Teach me but once like him to feel;
COLLINS. His cypress wreath my meed decree;
As one, if, not with light regard, And I, O Fear, will dwell with thee! I read aright that gifted Bard,
(Him whose school above the rest $ 148. Ode to Simplicity. Collins.
| His loveliest Elfin queen has bless'd,) O thou, by Nature taught,
One, only one unrivall'd fairt To breathe her genuine thought,
May hope the magic girdle wear, In numbers warmly pure, and sweetly strong: At solemn tournay hung on high, Who first on mountains wild,
The wish of each love-darting eye! In Fancy, loveliest child,
Lo! to each other nymph in turn applied, Thy babe and Pleasure's nurs'd the pow'rs of As if, in air unseen, some hovering hand, song!
Some chaste and angel-friend to virgin famc, • Æschylus.
| Floriinel. See Spenser, Leg 4.
With whisper'd spell had burst the starting! And Heaven and Fancy, kindred pow’rs, band,
I Have now o'erturn'd th' inspiring bow'rs, It left unblest her loath'd dishonor'd side: Or curtain'd close such scene from every future Happy, her hopeless fair, if never
view. Her baffled hand with vain endeavour Had touch'd that fatal zone to her denied! Young Fancy thus, to me divinest name, $ 150. Ode. Written in the year 1746. To whom, prepar'd and bath'd in heaven,
COLLINS. The cest of amplest pow'r is given, To few the godlike gift assigns,
How sleep the brave, who sink to rest To gird their blest prophetic loins,
By all their country's wishes blest ! And gaze her vision wild, and feel unmix'd her When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, flame!
Returns to deck their hallow'd mould, The band, as fairy legends say,
She there shall dress a sweeter sod Was wove on that creating day
Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. When he, who call’d with thought to birth
By Fairy hands their knell is rung, Yon tented sky, this laughing earth,
By forms unseen their dirge is sung; And dress'd with springs, and forests tall, There Honor comes, a pilgrim gray, And pour'd the main engirting all,
To bless the turf that wraps their clay; Long by the lov'd enthusiast wood,
And Freedom shall a while repair,
To dwell a weepiug hermit there!
$ 151. Ode to Mercy. Collins. Seraphic wires were beard to sound, Now sublimest triumph swelling,
O Thou, who sitt'st a smiling bride
By Valor's arm’d and awful side, And thou, thou rich-haird youth of morn,
Gentlest of sky-born forms, and best adornd : And all thy subject life was born !
Who oft with songs, divine to hear, The dangerous passions kept aloof,
Winn'st from his fatal grasp the spear, Far from the sainted growing woof:
And hid'st in wreaths of Aowers his bloodless But near it sat ecstatic Wonder,
sword! Listening the deep applauding thunder:
Thou who, amidst the deathful beld, And Truth, in sunny vest array'd,
By godlike chiefs alone beheld, By whose the tarsel's eyes were made ;
Oft with thy bosom bare art found, All the shadowy tribes of mind,
Pleading for him the youth who sinks to ground: In braided dance their murmurs join'd,
See, Mercy, see, with pure and loaded hands, And all the bright uncounted pow’rs,
Before thy shrine my country's genius stands, Who feed on heaven's ambrosial flow'rs.
And decks ihy altar still, though piere'd with Where is the Bard whose soul can now
many a wound! Its high presuming hopes avow ? Where he who thinks, with rapture blind,
ANTISTROPHE. This hallow'd work for him design'd?
When he whom e'en our joys provoke, High on some cliff to heaven up-pila,
The fiend of Nature, joind his yoke, Of rude access, of prospect wild,
And rush'd in wrath to make our isle his prey; Where tangled round the jealous steep,
Thy form, from out thy sweet abode, Strange shades o'erbrow the valleys deep,
O'ertook him on his blasted road, And holy Genii guard the rock,
And stopp'd his wheels, and look'd his rage Its glooms embrown, its springs unlock;
away. While on its rich ambitious head
I see recoil'd his sable steeds, An Eden, like his own, lies spread,
That bore him swift to savage deeds ; I view that oak, the fancied glades among, | Thy tender melting eyes they own, By which as Milton lay, his evening ear, O Maid, for all thy love to Britain shown, From many a cloud that dropp'd ethereal dew, Where Justice bars her iron tow'r, Nigh spherd in heaven its native strains could To thee we build a roseate bow'r, hear:
Thou, thou shalt rule our queen, and share our On which that ancient trump he reach'd was monarch's throne.
hung: Thither oft, his glory greeting,
From Waller's myrile shades retreating, $ 152. Ode to Liberty. COLLINS. With many a vow from Hope's aspiring tongue, My trembling feet his guiding steps pursue ;
STROPHE. In vain-such bliss to one alone
Who shall awake the Spartan fife, Of all the sons of soul was known,
And call in solemn sounds to life
The youths whose locks divinely spreading, Nor e'er her former pride relate
Like vernal hyacinths in sullen lue, | To sad Liguria's bleeding state.
Applauding Freedom lov'd of old to view ! On wild Helvetia's mountains bleak,
(Where, when the favor'd of thy choice, Shall sing the sword in myrtles drest,
The daring archer, heard thy voice; At Wisdom's shrine a while its flame conceal- | Forth from his eyrie roos’d in dread, ing,
The ravening eagle northward fled :) (What place so fit to seal a deed renown'd?) | Or dwell in willow'd meads more near, Till she her brightest lightnings round reveal. With those *to whom thy stork is dear; ing,
(wound ! | Those whom the rod of Alva bruis'd; It leap'd in glory forth, and dealt her prompted | Whose crown a British queen refus'd ! O goddess, in that feeling hour,
The magic works, thou feel'st the strains, When most its sounds would court thy ears, One holier name alone remains :
Let not my shell's misguided pow'r The perfect spell shall then avail,
The works the wizard time has wrought, From of its wide ambitious base,
| The Gaul, 'tis held of antique story, When Time his northern sons of spoil awoke, Saw Britain link'd to his now adverse strandt,
And all the blended work of strength and No sea between, nor cliff sublime and hoary, With many a rude repeated stroke, [grace, He pass'd with unwet feet through all our And many a barbarous yell, to thousand frag
land. ments broke.
To the blown Baltic then, they say,
The wild waves found another way,
Where Orcas howls, his wolfish mountains Yet, e'en where'er the least appear'd,
rounding; Th' admiring world thy hand rever'd;
Till all the banded west at once 'gan rise, Still, 'midst the scatter'd states around, A wide wild storm e'en nature's self confoundSome remnants of her strength were found: They saw, by what escap'd the storm,
Withering her giant sons, with strange unHow wondrous rose her perfect form;
couth surprise, How in the great, the labor'd whole,
This pillar'd earth, so firm and wide, Each mighty master pour'd his soul;
By winds and inward labors torn, For sunny Florence, seat of art,
In thunders dread was push'd aside, Beneath her vines presery'd a part,
And down the shouldering billows borne. Till they, whom science lov'd to name,
And see like gems her laughing train, (0 who could fear it?) quench'd her fame; The little isles on every side And, lo, an humbler relic laid
Monat, once hid from those who search'd the In jealous Pisa's olive shade;
main, See small Marino joins the theme,
Where thousand elfin shapes abide, Though least, not last in thy esteem.
And Wight, who checks the western tideStrike, louder strike th' ennobling strings For thee consenting heaven has each beTo those whose merchant sons were kings;
stow'd To hiin who, deck'd with pearly pride, A fair attendant on her sovereign pride; In Adria weds his green-hair'd bride:
To thee this blest divorce she ow'd, Hail, port of glory, wealth, and pleasure, For thou hast made her vales thy lov'd, thy last Ne'er let me change this Lydian measure;
* 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.
1 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 horfor 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 Yown the sea, or were on a sudden wrecked upon its cliffs.