We came while her enchanting Muse
The radiant moon above us held;
Till, by a clamorous owl compell'd,
She fled the solemn shade.

VIII.

But hark; I hear her liquid tone.
Now, Hesper, guide my feet

Down the red marl with moss o'ergrown,
Through yon wild thicket next the plain,
Whose hawthorns choke the winding lane,
Which leads to her retreat.

IX.

See the green space: on either hand
Enlarg'd it spreads around:

See, in the midst she takes her stand,
Where one old oak his awful shade

Extends o'er half the level mead
Inclos'd in woods profound.

X.

Hark how through many a melting note
She now prolongs her lays:

How sweetly down the void they float!
The breeze their magic path attends;

The stars shine out; the forest bends;
The wakeful heifers gaze.

XI.

Whoe'er thou art whom chance may bring

To this sequester'd spot,

If then the plaintive Siren sing,

O softly tread beneath her bower,

And think of heaven's disposing power,

Of man's uncertain lot.

XII.

O think, o'er all this mortal stage,
What mournful scenes arise;
What ruin waits on kingly rage;
How often virtue dwells with woe;
How many griefs from knowledge flow;
How swiftly pleasure flies.

XIII.

O sacred bird, let me at eve,
Thus wandering all alone,
Thy tender counsel oft receive,
Bear witness to thy pensive airs,
And pity Nature's common cares
Till I forget my own.

ODE XVI.

TO CALEB HARDINGE, M. D.

I.

WITH sordid floods the wintry Urn* Hath stain'd fair Richmond's level green: Her naked hill the Dryads mourn,

No longer a poetic scene.

No longer there thy raptur'd eye

The beauteous forms of earth or sky
Surveys as in their Author's mind;

* Aquarius.

And London shelters from the year
Those whom thy social hours to share
The Attic Muse design'd.

II.

From Hampstead's airy summit me
Her guest the city shall behold,
What day the people's stern decree
To unbelieving kings is told,

When common men (the dread of fame)
Adjudg'd as one of evil name,

Before the sun, the anointed head.
Then seek thou too the pious town,
With no unworthy cares to crown
That evening's awful shade.

III.

Deem not I call thee to deplore
The sacred martyr of the day,
By fast and penitential lore
To purge our ancient guilt away.
For this, on humble faith I rest
That still our advocate, the priest,
From heavenly wrath will save the land;
Nor ask what rites our pardon gain,
Nor how his potent sounds restrain
The thunderer's lifted hand.

IV.

No, Hardinge: peace to church and state! That evening, let the Muse give law; While I anew the theme relate

Which my first youth enamour'd saw.

Then will I oft explore thy thought,
What to reject which Locke hath taught,
What to pursue in Virgil's lay;

Till hope ascends to loftiest things,
Nor envies demagogues or kings
Their frail and vulgar sway.

V.

O vers'd in all the human frame,
Lead thou where'er my labour lies,
And English fancy's eager flame
To Grecian purity chastise;

While hand in hand, at Wisdom's shrine,

Beauty with truth I strive to join,

And grave assent with glad applause;

To paint the story of the soul,
And Plato's visions to control
By Verulamian* laws.

ODE XVII.

ON A SERMON AGAINST GLORY.

I.

COME then, tell me, sage divine,

Is it an offence to own

That our bosoms e'er incline

Toward immortal Glory's throne?

1747.

* Verulam gave one of his titles to Francis Bacon, author

of the Novum Organum.

For with me nor pomp nor pleasure,
Bourbon's might, Braganza's treasure,
So can Fancy's dream rejoice,

So conciliate Reason's choice,

As one approving word of her impartial voice.

II.

If to spurn at noble praise

Be the passport to thy heaven,
Follow thou those gloomy ways:
No such law to me was given;
Nor, I trust, shall I deplore me,
Faring like my friends before me;
Nor an holier place desire

Than Timoleon's arms require,

And Tully's curule chair, and Milton's golden lyre.

ODE XVIII."

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE FRANCIS EARL

OF HUNTINGDON.

I. 1.

1747.

THE wise and great of every clime,

Through all the spacious walks of Time,
Where'er the Muse her power display'd,
With joy have listen'd and obey'd.
For, taught of Heaven, the sacred Nine
Persuasive numbers, forms divine,

To mortal sense impart :