"Jesu-Maria! Madam Bridget, Why, what can the Viscountess mean?" (Cried the square-hoods in woeful fidget ;) "The times are alter'd quite and clean! "Decorum's turn'd to mere civility; [Here 500 stanzas are lost.] And so God save our noble king, And guard us from long-winded lubbers, That to eternity would sing, And keep my lady from her rubbers. POSTHUMOUS POEMS AND FRAGMENTS. ODE ON THE PLEASURE ARISING FROM [Left unfinished by Gray. The additions by Mason are distinguished by inverted commas.] Now the golden morn aloft Waves her dew-bespangled wing, She woos the tardy spring: The sleeping fragrance from the ground; And lightly o'er the lively scene Scatters his freshest, tenderest green. New-born flocks, in rustic dance, The birds his presence greet : And, lessening from the dazzled sight, P Rise, my soul! on wings of fire, Yesterday the sullen year Saw the snowy whirlwind fly; Smiles on past misfortune's brow Soft reflection's hand can trace; Still, where rosy pleasure leads, The hues of bliss more brightly glow, See the wretch, that long has tost And breathe and walk again : Humble quiet builds her cell, Near the source whence pleasure flows; She eyes the clear crystalline well, And tastes it as it goes. 'While' far below the 'madding' crowd Mark where indolence and pride, Their dull but daily round: 'To these, if Hebe's self should bring 'Mark ambition's march sublime Up to power's meridian height; Phantoms of danger, death, and dread, 'Happier he, the peasant, far, From the pangs of passion free, That breathes the keen yet wholesome air He, when his morning task is done, 'He, unconscious whence the bliss, From toils he wins the spirits light, In heaven's best treasures, peace and health.' |