O thou who lovest that ampler range,

Where life's wide prospects round thee change,
And, with her mingling sons allied,
Throw'st the prattling page aside,
To me, in converse sweet, impart
To read in man the native heart;

To learn, where Science sure is found,
From nature as she lives around;
And, gazing oft her mirror true,
By turns each shifting image view!
Till meddling Art's officious lore
Reverse the lessons taught before;
Alluring from a safer rule,

To dream in her enchanted school:

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Thou, Heaven, whate'er of great we boast,
Has blest this social science most.

Retiring hence to thoughtful cell,
As Fancy breathes her potent spell,
Not vain she finds the charmful task,
In pageant quaint, in motley mask;
Behold, before her musing eyes,
The countless Manners round her rise;
While, ever varying as they pass,

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30

335

40

To some Contempt applies her glass:

With these the white-robed maids combine;

45

And those the laughing satyrs join!

But who is he whom now she views,

In robe of wild contending hues?

Thou by the Passions nursed, I greet
The comic sock that binds thy feet!

O Humour, thou whose name is known
To Britain's favour'd isle alone:

Me too amidst thy band admit;

There where the young-eyed healthful Wit,
(Whose jewels in his crisped hair

Are placed each other's beams to share;
Whom no delights from thee divide)
In laughter loosed, attends thy side.

By old Miletus, who so long
Has ceased his love-inwoven song;
By all you taught the Tuscan maids,
In changed Italia's modern shades;

By him' whose knight's distinguish'd name
Refined a nation's lust of fame;

Whose tales e'en now, with echoes sweet,
Castilia's Moorish hills repeat;

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Or him2 whom Seine's blue nymphs deplore,
In watchet weeds on Gallia's shore;

Who drew the sad Sicilian maid,

By virtues in her sire betray'd.

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* Alluding to the Milesian tales, some of the earliest roy Cervantes.

mances.

Monsieur Le Sage, author of the incomparable Adventures of Gil Blas de Santillane, who died in Paris in the year 1745.

O Nature boon, from whom proceed

Each forceful thought, each prompted deed;
If but from thee I hope to feel,

On all my heart imprint thy seal!

Let some retreating cynic find

Those oft-turn'd scrolls I leave behind:
The Sports and I this hour agree,

To rove thy scene-full world with thee!

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THE PASSIONS.

AN ODE FOR MUSIC.

WHEN Music, heavenly maid, was young,
While yet in early Greece she sung,
The Passions oft, to hear her shell,
Throng'd around her magic cell,
Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting,
Possest beyond the Muse's painting:
By turns they felt the glowing mind
Disturb'd, delighted, raised, refined;
Till once, 'tis said, when all were fired,
Fill'd with fury, rapt, inspired,

From the supporting myrtles round

They snatch'd her instruments of sound; •
And, as they oft had heard apart
Sweet lesson's of her forceful art,
Each (for Madness ruled the hour)
Would prove his own expressive power.

First Fear his hand, its skill to try,
Amid the chords bewilder'd laid,
And back recoil'd, he knew not why,

E'en at the sound himself had made.

5

10

15

20

Next Anger rush'd; his eyes on fire,
In lightnings own'd his secret stings:
In one rude clash he struck the lyre,
And swept with hurried hand the strings.

With woful measures wan Despair

Low, sullen sounds his grief beguiled A solemn, strange, and mingled air ; 'Twas sad by fits, by starts 'twas wild.

But thou, O Hope, with eyes so fair, 9
What was thy delighted measure ?h
Still it whisper'd promised pleasure,

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30

And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail! Still would her touch the strain prolong;) And from the rocks, the woods, the vale, She call'd on Echo still, through all the song And, where her sweetest theme she chose, A soft responsive voice was heard at every close, And Hope enchanted smiled, and waved her

golden hair.

And longer had she sung;-but, with a frown, Revenge impatient rose: k

He threw his blood-stain'd sword, in thunder,
down; k

And with a withering look, M
The war-denouncing trumpet took,~~

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40

VARIATION.

Ver. 30. What was thy delightful measure ?