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Higli on some cliff, to heaven up-pil'd,
Thither oft his glory greeting,
From Waller's myrtle shades retreating,
In vain-Such bliss to one alone,
Have now o'erturn’d th' inspiring bowers,
ODE.—WRITTEN IN THE YEAR MDCCXLVI.
How sleep the brave, who sink to rest,
* See, in the Author's Life, the account of a remarkable dream which he had while at school : to that school-dream we undoubtedly owe this ode, and this turn of it.*
When Spring, with dewy fingers cold,
By Fairy hands their knell is rung,
ODE TO MERCY.
O THOU, who sitt'st a smiling bride
Who oft with songs, divine to hear,
Win'st from his fatal grasp the spear,
Thou who, amidst the deathful field,
By godlike chiefs alone beheld,
See, Mercy, see, with pure and loaded bands,
Before thy shrine my country's Genius stands,
When he whom even our joys provoke,
Thy form, from out thy sweet abode,
O’ertook him on his blasted road,
I see recoil his sable steeds,
That bore him swift to savage deeds,
Where Justice bars her iron tower,
To thee we build a roseate bower, Thou, thou shalt rule our queen, and share our monarch's
ODE TO LIBERTY.
WHO shall awake the Spartan fife,
Like vernal hyacinths in sullen hue,
* A high tribute of praise was paid to this piece by the illustrious Sir William Jones, who copied a considerable part of it in his spirited Latin Ode, ad Libertatim, as he himself informs his readers.-Works, vol. 10, p. 394, 8vo. 1807.
† An allusion to the customs the Spartans had of arranging their hair before a battle.B.
At once the breath of fear and virtue shedding,
Applauding Freedom lov'd of old to view ?
At Wisdom's shrine awhile its flame concealing, (What place so fit to seal a deed renown'd?)
Till she her brightest lightnings round revealing,
O Goddess; in that feeling hour,
Let not my shell's misguided power,
* A Greek poet, the reputed author of a very popular Song, in which are these lines:
Εν μυρία κλαδι το ξιφος φορησω,
And to the Athenian State her equal laws restored.-C. + The Author confounds the times of the Republic with those of the Empire, in order, by blending the glories of each, to delight the imagination with an era more free than the later, more splendid than the earlier period
Push'd by a wild and artless race,
And all the splendid work of strength and grace,
With many a rude repeated stroke, And many a barbarous yell, to thousand fragments broke.
Yet even, where'er the least appear’d,
of its history: for surely that Rome, which was overthrown by the northern sons of spoil, had no claim to draw down the tears of Freedom at her fall.-B.