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Of dark oblivion ; thus collecting all

And feature after feature we refer The various forms of being to present,

To that sublime exemplar whence it stole Before the curious aim of mimic Art,

Those animating charms. Thus beauty's palma Their largest choice : like spring's unfolded bloorns Betwixt them wavering hangs: applauding love Exhaling sweetness, that the skilful bee

Doubts where to choose; and mortal man aspires May taste at will, from their selected spoils To tempt creative praise. As wben a cloud To work her dulcet food. For not the expanse Of gathering hail, with limpid crusts of ice Of living lakes in summer's noontide calm, Enclos'd and obvious to the beaming Sun, Reflects the bordering shade, and sun-bright heavens, Collects his large effulgence; straight the Heavens With fairer semblance; not the sculptur'd gold With equal flames present on either hand More faithful keeps the graver's lively trace,

The radiant visage: Persia stands at gaze, Than he, whose birth the sister powers of Art Appallid; and on the brink of Ganges doubts Propitious view'd, and from his genial star

The snowy-vested seer, in Mithra's name, Shed influence to the seeds of fancy kind ;

"To which the fragrance of the south shall burn, Than his attemper'd bosom must preserve

To which his warbled orisons ascend. The seal of Nature. There alone unchang'd,

Such various bliss the well-tun'd heart enjors Her form remains. The balmy walks of May Favour'd of Heaven! while, plung'd in sordid cares There breathe perennial sweets: the trembling chord The unfeeling vulgar mocks the boon divine: Resounds for ever in the abstracted ear,

And harsh Austerity, from whose rebuke Melodious: and the virgin's radiant eye,

Young Love and smiling Wonder shrink away Superior to disease, to grief, and time,

Abash'd, and chill of heart, with sager frowns Shines with un’bating lustre. Thus at length Condemns the fair enchantment. On my strain, Endow'd with all that Nature can bestow,

Perhaps even now, some cold fastidious judge The child of Fancy oft in silence bends

Casts a disdainful eye; and calls my toil, O'er these mixt treasures of his pregnant breast, And calls the love and beauty which I sing, With conscious pride. From them he oft resolves The dream of folly. Thou, grave censor! say, To frame he knows not what excelling things; Is Beauty then a dream, because the glooms And win he knows not what sublime reward Of dulness hang too heavy on thy sense, Of praise and wonder. By degrees, the mind To let her shine upon thee? So the man Feels her young nerves dilate : the plastic powers Whose eye ne'er open'd on the light of Heaven, Labour for action : blind emotions heave

Might smile with scorn while raptur'd vision tells His bosom, and with loveliest frenzy caught, Of the gay-colour'd radiance flushing bright From Earth to Heaven he rolls his daring eye, O'er all creation. From the wise be far From Heaven to Earth. Anon ten thousand shapes, Such gross unhallow'd pride; nor needs my song Like spectres trooping to the wizard's call,

Descend so low; but rather now uniold, Flit swift before him. From the womb af Earth, If human thought could reach, or words unfold, From Ocean's bed they come; the eternal Heavens By what inysterious fabric of the mind, Disclose their splendours, and the dark Abyss The deep-felt joys and harmony of sound Pours out her births unknown.

With fixed gaze

Result from airy motion; and from shape He marks the rising phantoms. Now compares The lovely phantoms of sublime and fair. Their different forms; now blends them, now di- By what fine ties hath God connected things vides,

When present in the mind, which in themselves Enlarges, and extenuates by turns;

Have no connection ? Sure the rising Sun Opposes, ranges in fantastic bands,

O'er the cerulean convex of the sea, And infinitely varies. Hither now,

With equal brightness and with equal warmth Now thither fluctuates his inconstant aim,

Might roll his fiery orb; nor yet the soul With endless choice perplex'd. At length his plan

Thus feel her frame expanded, and her powers Begins to open. Lucid order dawns;

Exulting in the splendour she beholds; And as from Chaos old the jarring seeds

Like a young conqueror moving through the pomp Of Nature at the voice divine repair'd

Of some triumphal day. When join'd at eve, Each to its place, till rosy Earth unveild

Soft murinuring streams and gales of gentlest breathe Her fragrant bosom, and the joyful Sun

Melodious Philomela's wakeful strain Sprung up the blue serene; by swift degrees Attemper, could not man's discerning ear Thus disentangled, his entire design

Through all its tones the sympathy pursue ; Emerges. Colours mingle, features join;

Nor yet this breath divine of nameless joy And lines converge: the fainter parts retire ; Steal through his veins, and fan the awaken'd heart, The fairer erninent in light advance ;

Mild as the breeze, yet rapturous as the song. And every image on its neighbour smiles.

But were not Nature still endow'd at large Awhile he stands, and with a father's joy

With all which life requires, though unadorn'd Contemplates. Then with Promethean art, With such enchantment: wherefore then ber fors Into its proper vehicle he breathes

So exquisitely fair? her breath perfum'd The fair conception ; which, embodied thus, With such ethereal sweetness ? whence her voice And permanent, becomes to eyes or ears

Inform'd at will to raise or to depress An object ascertain'd: while thus inform'd, The impassion’d soul ? and whence the robes of ligte The various organs of his mimic skill,

Which thus invest her with more lovely pomp The consonance of sounds, the featur'd rock, Than fancy can describe ? Whence but from the The shadowy picture and impassion'd verse, O source divine of ever-flowing love, Beyond their proper powers attract the soul And thy unmeasur'd goodness? Not contenit By that expressive semblance, while in sight With every food of life to nourish man, Of Nature's great original we scan

By kind illusions of the wondering sense The lively child of Art; while line by line,

Thou mak'st all nature beauty to his eye,

Or music to his car : well pleas'd he scans | Consenting Zephyr sighs ; the weeping rill

The goodly prospect ; and with inward smiles Joins in his plaint, melodious; mute the groves; Treads the gay verdure of the painted plain ; And hill and dale with all their echoes mourn. Beholds the azure canopy of Heaven,

Such and so various are the tastes of men. (songs And living lamps that over-arch his head

Oh! blest of Heaven, whom not the languid With more than regal splendour; bends his ears Of Luxury, the syren ! not the bribes To the full choir of water, air, and earth ;

Of sordid Wealth, nor all the gaudy spoils Nor heeds the pleasing errour of his thought, Of pageant Honour, can seduce to leave Nor doubts the painted green or azure arch, Those ever-blooming sweets, which from the store Nor questions more the music's mingling sounds Of Nature fair Imagination culls Than space, or motion, or eternal time;

To charın the enliven'd soul! What though not all So sweet he feels their influence to attract

Of mortal offspring can attain the heights The fixed soul; to brighten the dull glooms Of envied life; though only few possess Of care, and make the destin'd road of life Patrician treasures or imperial state ; Delightful to his feet. So fables tell,

Yet Nature's care, to all her children just, The adventurous hero, bound on hard exploits, With richer treasures and an ampler state, Beholds with glad surprise, by secret spells Endows at large whatever happy man Of some kind sage, the patron of his toils, Will deign to use them. His the city's pomp, A visionary paradise disclos'd

The rural bonours his. Whate'er adorns Amid the dubious wild : with streams, and shades, The princely dome, the column and the arch, And airy songs, the enchanted landscape smiles, The breathing marbles and the sculptur'd gold, Cheers his long labours, and renews his frame. Beyond the proud possessor's narrow claim,

What then is taste, but these internal powers His tuneful breast enjoys. For him, the spring Active, and strong, and feelingly alive

Distils her dews, and from the silken gem To each fine impulse ? a discerning sense

Its lucid leaves unfolds : for him, the hand Of decent and sublime, with quick disgust Of Autumn tinges every fertile branch From things deform’d, or disarrang'd, or gross With blooming gold, and blushes like the morn. In species? This, nor gems, nor stores of gold, Each passing hour sheds tribute from her wings; Nor purple state, nor culture can bestow; And still new beauties meet his lonely walk, But God alone when first his active hand

And loves unfelt attract him. Not a breeze Imprints the secret bias of the soul.

Flies o'er the meadow, not a cloud imbibes He, mighty parent! wise and just in all,

The setting Sun's effulgence, not a strain Free as the vital breeze or light of Heaven, From all the tenants of the warbling shade Reveals the charms of Nature. Ask the swain Ascends, but whence his bosom can partake Who journeys homeward from a summer day's · Fresh pleasure, unreprov'd. Nor thence partakes Long labour, why, forgetful of his toils

Fresh pleasure only : for the attentive mind, And due repose, he loiters to behold

By this harmonious action on her powers, The sunshine gleaming as through amber clouds, Becomes herself harmonious: wont so oft O'er all the western sky; full soon, I ween, In outward things to meditate the charm His rude expression and untutor'd airs,

Of sacred order, soon she seeks at home Beyond the power of language, will unfold To find a kindred order, to exert The form of beauty smiling at his heart, [Heaven Within herself this elegance of love, How lovely! how commanding! But though This fair inspird delight : her temper'd powers In every breast hath sown these early seeds Refine at length, and every passion wears Of love and admiration, yet in vain,

A chaster, milder, more attractive mien. Without fair Culture's kind parental aid,

But if to ampler prospects, if to gaze Without enlivening suns, and genial showers, On Nature's form, where, negligent of all And shelter from the blast, in vain we hope These lesser graces, she assumes the port The tender plant should rear its blooming head, Of that eternal majesty that weigh'd Or yield the harvest promis’d in its spring. The world's foundations, if to these the mind Nor yet will every soil with equal stores

Exalts her daring eye; then mightier far Repay the tiller's labour; or attend

Will be the change, and nobler. Would the forms His will, obsequious, whether to produce

Of servile custom cramp her generous powers ? The olive or the laurel. Different minds

Would sordid policies, the barbarous growth Incline to different objects : one pursues

of ignorance and rapine, bow her down The vast alone, the wonderful, the wild ;

To tame pursuits, to indolence and fear? Another sighs for harmony, and grace,

Lo! she appeals to Nature, to the winds And gentlest beauty. Hence when lightning fires | And rolling waves, the Sun's unwearied course, The arch of Heaven, and thunders rock the ground, 'lie elements and seasons : all declare When furious whirlwinds rend the howling air, For what the eternal Maker has ordain'd And Ocean, groaning from its lowest bed, The powers of man: we feel within ourselves Heaves his tempestuous billows to the sky; His energy divine : he tells the heart, Amid the mighty uproar, while below

He meant, he made us to behold) and love The nations tremble, Shakspeare looks abroad What he beholds and loves, the general orb From some high cliff, superior, and enjoys Of life and being; to be great like him, The elemental war. But Waller longs,

Beneficent and active. Thus the men All on the margin of some flowery stream, Whom Nature's works can charın, with God himself To spread his careless limbs amid the cool

Hold converse ; grow familiar, day by day, of plantane sbades, and to the listening deer With his conceptions, act upon his plan; The tale of slighted vows and love's disdain And form to his, the relish of their souls. Resound soft-warbling all the live-long day :



To listening gods he makes him known,
That man divine, by whom were sown

The seeds of Grecian fame:
Who first the race with freedom fir'd;
From whom Lycurgus Sparta's sons inspir'd;
From whom Platæan palms and Cyprian trophia




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's and obey'd.
For, taught of Heaven, the sacred Nine
Persuasive numbers, forms divine,

To mortal sense impart:
They best the soul with glory fire;
They noblest counsels, boldest deeds inspire ;
And high o'er Fortune's rage enthrone the fixed


O noblest, happiest age!
When Aristides rul'd, and Cimon fought;

When all the generous fruits of Homer's page
Exulting Pindar saw to full perfection brought
O Pindar, oft shalt thou be hail'd of me:

Not that Apollo fed thee from his shrine ; Not that thy lips drank sweetness from the bee;

Nor yet that, studious of thy notes divine, Pan danc'd their measure with the sylvan throng:

But that thy song

Was proud to unfold
What thy base rulers trembled to behold;
Amid corrupted Thebes was proud to tell
The deeds of Athens and the Persian shame:
Hence on thy head their impious vengeance fell
But thou, O faithful to thy fame,
The Muse's law didst rightly know;
That who would animate his lays,

And other minds to virtue raise,
Must feel his own with all her spirit glow.

Nor less prevailing is their charm
The vengeful bosom to disarm;
To melt the proud with human woe,
And prompt unwilling tears to flow.
Can wealth a power like this afford ?
Can Cromwell's arts, or Marlborough's sword,

An equal empire claim ?
No, Hastings. Thou my words will own :
Thy breast the gifts of every Muse hath known;
Nor shall the giver's love disgrace thy noble name.


The Muse's aweful art,
And the blest function of the poet's tongue,

Ne'er shalt thou blush to honour; to assert
From all that scorned Vice or slavish Fear hath

sung: Nor shall the blandishment of Tuscan strings

Warbling at will in Pleasure's myrtle bower; Nor shall the servile notes to Celtic kings

By flattering minstrels paid in evil hour, Move thee to spurn the heavenly Muse's reign.

A different strain,

And other themes, From her prophetic shades and hallow'd streams, (Thou well canst witness) meet the purged ear : Such, as when Greece to her immortal shell Rejoicing listen'd, godlike sounds to hear ;

To hear the sweet instructress tell (While men and heroes throng'd around)

How life its noblest use may find,

How well for freedom be resign'd;
And how, by Glory, Virtue shall be crown'd.

Are there, approv'd of later times,
Whose verse adorn'd a tyrant's * crimes?
Who saw majestic Rome betray'd,
And lent the imperial ruffian aid ?
Alas! not one polluted bard,
No, not the strains that Mincius heard,

Or Tibur's hills reply'd,
Dare to the Muse's ear aspire ;
Save that, instructed by the Grecian lyre,
With Freedom's ancient notes their shameful tas

they hide.

Mark, how the dread Pantheon stands,
Amid the domes of modern hands:
Amid the toys of idle state,
How simply, how severely great!
Then turn, and, while each western clime
Presents her tuneful sons to Time,

So mark thou Milton's name;
And add, “ Thus differs from the throng

The spirit which inform'd thy aweful song, Which bade thy potent voice protect thy country's



Such was the Chian father's strain
To many a kind domestic train,
Whose pious hearth and genial bowl
Had cheer'd the reverend pilgrim's soul :
When, every hospitable rite
With equal bounty to requite,

He struck his magic strings;
Ind pour'd spontaneous numbers forth,
And seiż d their ears with tales of ancient worth,
And fill'd their musing hearts with vast heroic things.

Yet hence barbaric Zeal
His memory with unholy rage pursues;

While from these arduous cares of public weal She bids each bard begone, and rest himn with his

Muse. O fool! to think the man, whose ample mind

Must grasp at all that yonder stars survey; Must join the noblest forms of every kind,

The world's most perfect image to display,
Can c'er his country's majesty behold,

Unmov'd or cold!

O fool! to deem That he, whose thought must visit every theme,

Now oft, where happy spirits dwell, Where yet he tunes his charming shell, Oft near him, with applauding hands, The Genius of his country stands.

. Octavianus Caesar.

Whose heart must every strong emotion know To watch the state's uncertain frame,
Inspir'd' by Nature, or by Fortune taught;

And baffle Faction's partial aim :
That he, if haply some presumptuous foe,

But chiefly, with determin’d zeal, With false ignoble science fraught,

To quell that servile band, who kneel Shall spurn at Freedom's faithful band;

To Freedom's banish'd foes; That he their dear defence will shun,

That monster, which is daily found Or bide their glories from the Sun,

Expert and bold thy country's peace to wound; Or deal their vengeance with a woman's hand! Yet dreads to handle arms, nor manly counsel knows. IV.

'T is highest Heaven's command,

That guilty aims should sordid paths pursue ; I care not that in Arno's plain,

That what ensnares the heart should maim the Or on the sportive banks of Seine,

hand, From public themes the Muse's quire

And Virtue's worthless foes be false to Glory too. Content with polish'd ease retire,

But look on Freedom. See, through every age, Where priests the studious head command,

What labours, perils, griefs, hath she disdain'd! Where tyrants bow the warlike hand

What arms, what regal pride, what priestly rage, To vile Ambition's aim,

Have her dread offspring conquer'd or sustain'd! Say, what can public themes afford,

For Albion well have conquer'd. Let the strains Save venal honours to an hateful lord, (Fame?

Of happy swains, Reserv'd for angry Heaven, and scorn'd of honest

Which now resound


Where Scarsdale's cliffs the swelling pastures But here, where Freedom's equal throne

Bear witness. There, oft let the farmer hail To all her valiant sons is known;

The sacred orchard which imbowers his gate, Where all are conscious of her cares,

And show to strangers passing down the vale, And each the power, that rules him, shares;

Where Ca'ndish, Booth, and Osborne sate ; Here let the Bard, whose dastard tongue

When, bursting from their country's chain, Leaves public arguments unsung,

Even in the midst of deadly harms,
Bid public praise farewell :

Of papal snares and lawless arms,
Let him to fitter climes remove,

They plann'd for Freedom this her noblest reign.
Far from the hero's and the patriot's love,
And lull mysterious monks to slumber in their cell.

O Hastings, not to all

This reign, these laws, this public care,
Can ruling Heaven the same endowments lend :
Yet still doth Nature to her offspring call,

Which Nassau gave us all to share,

Had ne'er adorn'd the English name, Thai to one general weal their different powers

Could Fear have silenc'd Freedom's claim. they bend, Unenvious. Thus alone, though strains divine

But Fear in vain attempts to bind Inforin the bosom of the Muse's son ;

Those lofty efforts of the mind

Which social Good inspires; Though with new honours the patrician's line

Where men, for this, assault a throne,
Advance from age to age; yet thus alone

Each adds the common welfare to his own;
They win the suffrage of impartial Fame.
The poet's name

And each unconquer'd heart the strength of all ac-
He best shall prove,

quires. Whose lays the soul with noblest passions move. But thee, O progeny of heroes old,

Say, was it thus, when late we view'd

Our fields in civil blood imbrued ?
Thee to severer toils thy fate requires:
The fate wbich form’d thee in a chosen mould,

When Fortune crown'd the barbarous host,

Aud half the astonish'd isle was lost?
The grateful country of thy sires,

Did one of all that vaunting train,
Thee to sublimer paths demand;
Sublimer than thy sires could trace,

Who dare affront a peaceful reign,

Durst one in arms appear ?
Or thy own Edward teach his race,
Though Gaul's proud genius sank beneath his hand.

Durst one in counsels pledge his life?

Stake his luxurious fortunes in the strife?

Or lend his boasted name his vagrant friends to

From rich domains and subject farms,
They led the rustic youth to arms;

Yet, Hastings, these are they
And kings their stern achievements fear'd ; Who challenge to themselves thy country's love ;
While private Strife their banners rear'd.

The true; the constant: who alone can weigh,
But loftier scenes to thee are shown,

What Glory should demand, or Liberty approve ! Where Empire's wide-establish'd throne

But let their works declare them. Thy free powers, No private master fills :

The generous powers of thy prevailing mind, Where, long foretold, the people reigns : Not for the tasks of their confederate hours, Where each a vassal's humble heart disdains; Lewd brawls and lurking slander, were design'd. And judgeth what he secs; and, as he judgeth, wills. Be thou thy own approver.

Honest praise

Oft nobly sways
Here be it thine to calm and guide

Ingenuous youth :
The swelling democratic tide;

But, sought from cowards and the lying mouth,

Tt 4

Praise is reproach. Eternal God alone

The kindred powers, Tethys, and reverend Ops For mortals fixeth that sublime award.

And spotless Vesta; while supreme of sway He, from the faithful records of his throne, Remain'd the cloud-compeller. From the couch Bids the historian and the bard

Of Tethys sprang the sedgy-crowned race, Dispose of honour and of scorn;

Who from a thousand urns, o'er every clime,
Discern the patriot from the slave ;

Send tribute to their parent : and from them
And write the good, the wise, the brave Are ye, 0 Naiads : Arethusa fair,
For lessons to the multitude unborn.

And tuneful Aganippe ; that sweet name,
Bandusia ; that soft family which dwelt
With Syrian Daphne; and the honour'd tribes

Belov'd of Pæon. Listen to my strain,

Daughters of 'Tethys : listen to your praise.

You, Nymphs, the winged offspring, which of old 1746.

Aurora to divine Astræus bore,

Owns; and your aid beseecheth. When the night

Of Hyperion, from his noontide throne,
The nymphs, who preside over springs and rivulets, Unbends their languid pinions, aid from you

are addressed at day-break, in honour of their They ask : Favonius and the mild South-west
several functions, and of the relations which they From you relief implore. Your sallying streams
bear to the natural and to the moral worid. Their Fresh vigour to their weary wings impart.
origin is deduced from the first allegorical deities, Again they fly, disporting; from the mead
or powers of Nature; according to the doctrine of Half ripen'd and the tender blades of corn,
the old mythological poets, concerning the gener- To sweep the noxious mildew; or dispel
ation of the gods and the rise of things. They Contagious streams, which oft the parched Earth
are then successively considered, as giving motion Breathes on her fainting sons. From noon to ere,
to the air and exciting summer-breezes ; as nou- Along the river and the paved brook,
rishing and beautifying the vegetable creation ; as Ascend the cheerful breezes : hail'd of bards
contributing to the fullness of navigable rivers, Who, fast by learned Cam, the Æolian lyre
and consequently to the maintenance of com- Solicit; nor unwelcome to the youth
merce; and by that means, to the maritime part Who on the heights of Tibur, all inclin'd
of military power. Next is represented their fa- O’er rushing Anio, with a pious hand
vourable influence upon health, when assisted by The reverend scene delineates, broken fanes,
rural exercise: which introduces their connection Or tombs, or pillar'd aqueducts, the pomp
with the art of physic, and the happy effects of Of ancient Time; and haply, while he scans
mineral medicinal springs. Lastly, they are ce- | The ruins, with a silent tear revolves
lebrated for the friendship which the Muses bear The fame and fortune of imperious Rome.
them, and for the true inspiration which temper You too, O Nymphs, and your unenvious aid
ance only can receive : in opposition to the en- The rural powers confess; and still prepare
thusiasm of the more licentious poets.

For you their choicest treasures. Pan commands

Oft as the Delian king with Sirius holds O'er yonder eastern hill the twilight pale

The central heavens, the father of the grore Walks forth from darkness; and the god of day, Commands his Dryads over your abodes With bright Astræa seated by his side,

To spread their deepest umbrage. Well the god Waits yet to leave the ocean. Tarry, Nymphs, Remembereth how indulgent ye supplied Ye Nymphs, ye blue-ey'd progeny of Thames Your genial dews to nurse them in their prime. Who now the mazes of this rugged heath

Pales, the pasture's queen, where'er ye stray, Trace with your fleeting steps ; who all night long Pursues your steps, delighted; and the path Repeat, amid the cool and tranquil air,

With living verdure clothes. Around your haunts Your lonely murmurs, tarry: and receive

The laughing Chloris, with profusest hand, My offer'd lay. To pay you homage due, Throws wide her blooms, her odours. Still with you I leave the gates of Sleep; nor shall my lyre Pomona seeks to dwell: and o'er the lawns, Too far into the splendid hours of morn

And o'er the vale of Richmond, where with Thames Engage your audience: my observant hand Ye love to wander, Amalthea pours Shall close the strain ere any sultry beam

Well-pleas'd the wealth of that Ammonian born, Approach you. To your subterranean haunts Her dower; unmindful of the fragrant isles Ye then may timely steal ; to pace with care Nysæan or Atlantic. Nor canst thou, The humid sands; to loosen from the soil

(Albeit oft, ungrateful, thou dost mock The bubbling sources; to direct the rills

The beverage of the sober Naiad's urn, To meet in wider channels; or beneath

O Bromius, O Lenæan) nor canst thou Some grotto's dripping arch, at height of noon Disown the powers whose bounty, ill repaid, To slumber, shelter'd from the burning heaven With nectar feeds thy tendrils. Yet from me,

Where shall my song begin, ye Nymphs? or end? Yet, blameless Nymphs, from my delighted lyre, Wide is your praise and copious First of things, Accept the rites your bounty well may claim, First of the lonely powers, ere Time arose,

Nor heed the scoffings of the Edonian band. Were Love and Chaos. Love the sire of Fate; For better praise awaits you. Thames, your sire, Elder than Chaos. Born of Fate was 'Time, As down the verdant slope your duteous rills Who many sons and many comely births

Descend, the tribute stately Thames receives, Devour'd, relentless father : till the child

Delighted ; and your piety applauds ; Of Rhea drove him from the upper sky,

And birds his copious tide roll on secure, And quell'd his deadly might. Then social reign'd | Fo“ * his daughters; and with words

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