When morning sends her fragrant breezes forth,
With airy murmurs touch my opening ear.
And ever watchful at thy side,

Let Wisdom's awful suffrage guide
The tenor of thy lay:

To her of old by Jove was given

To judge the various deeds of earth and heaven; 'Twas thine by gentle arts to win us to her sway.

IV. 1.

Oft as, to well-earn'd ease resign'd,

I quit the maze where Science toils,
Do thou refresh my yielding mind
With all thy gay, delusive spoils.
But, O indulgent, come not nigh
The busy steps, the jealous eye
Of wealthy care or gainful age;
Whose barren souls thy joys disdain,
And hold as foes to reason's reign
Whome'er thy lovely works engage.

IV. 2.

When friendship and when letter'd mirth
Haply partake my simple board,
Then let thy blameless hand call forth
The music of the Teian chord.
Or if invok'd at softer hours,
O! seek with me the happy bowers
That hear Olympia's gentle tongue;
To beauty link'd with virtue's train,
To love devoid of jealous pain,
There let the Sapphic lute be strung.

IV. 3.

But when from envy and from death to claim A hero bleeding for his native land;

When to throw incense on the vestal flame

Of Liberty my genius gives command,

Nor Theban voice nor Lesbian lyre
From thee, O Muse, do I require;
While my presaging mind,

Conscious of powers she never knew, Astonish'd grasps at things beyond her view,' Nor by another's fate submits to be confin'd.

ODE XIV.

TO THE HONOURABLE CHARLES TOWNSHEND; FROM THE COUNTRY.

I.

SAY, Townshend, what can London boast

To

pay thee for the pleasures lost,

The health to-day resign'd,

When Spring from this her favourite seat

Bade Winter hasten his retreat,

And met the western wind.

II.

O knew'st thou how the balmy air,
The sun, the azure heavens prepare
To heal thy languid frame,

No more would noisy courts engage;
In vain would lying Faction's rage
Thy sacred leisure claim.

III.

Oft I look'd forth, and oft admir'd;
Till with the studious volume tir'd
I sought the open day;

And sure, I cried, the rural gods
Expect me in their green abodes,
And chide my tardy lay.

IV.

But ah, in vain my restless feet
Trac'd every silent shady seat

Which knew their forms of old:
Nor Naiad by her fountain laid,

Nor Wood-nymph tripping through her glade, Did now their rites unfold:

V.

Whether to nurse some infant oak

They turn the slowly tinkling brook
And catch the pearly showers,
Or brush the mildew from the woods,
Or paint with noontide beams the buds,
Or breathe on opening flowers.

VI.

Such rites, which they with Spring renew,
The eyes of care can never view;
And care hath long been mine:
And hence offended with their guest,
Since grief of love my soul oppress'd,
They hide their toils divine.

VII.

But soon shall thy enlivening tongue
This heart, by dear affliction wrung,

With noble hope inspire:

Then will the sylvan powers again
Receive me in their genial train,
And listen to my lyre.

VIII.

Beneath yon Dryad's lonely shade
A rustic altar shall be paid,

Of turf with laurel fram'd;

And thou the inscription wilt approve: "This for the peace which, lost by love, By friendship was reclaim'd."

ODE XV.

TO THE EVENING STAR.

I.

TO-NIGHT retir'd the queen of heaven.
With young Endymion stays:

And now to Hesper it is given
Awhile to rule the vacant sky,
Till she shall to her lamp supply
A stream of brighter rays.

II.

O Hesper, while the starry throng
With awe thy path surrounds,
Oh, listen to my suppliant song,
If haply now the vocal sphere
Can suffer thy delighted ear
To stoop to mortal sounds.

III.

So may the bridegroom's genial strain Thee still invoke to shine;

So

may the bride's unmarried train To Hymen chaunt their flattering vow, Still that his lucky torch may glow With lustre pure as thine.

IV.

Far other vows must I prefer
To thy indulgent power.
Alas! but now I paid my tear
On fair Olympia's virgin tomb;
And lo, from thence, in quest I roam

Of Philomela's bower.

V.

Propitious send thy golden ray,

Thou purest light above:

Let no false flame seduce to stray

Where gulf or steep lie hid for harm; But lead where music's healing charm May soothe afflicted love.

VI.

To them, by many a grateful song
In happier seasons vow'd,

These lawns, Olympia's haunt, belong:

Oft by yon silver stream we walk'd,
Or fix'd, while Philomela talk'd,
Beneath yon copses stood.

VII.

Nor seldom, where the beechen boughs That roofless tower invade,