Fate demands a nobler head; $80. The Defcent of Odin. An Ode. UPROSE the king of men with speed, GRAY. And faddled ftraight his coal-black steed: (The groaning earth beneath him shakes), Right against the eastern gate, PROPHETESS. What call unknown, what charms, presume To break the quiet of the tomb? Who thus afflicts my troubled sprite, And drags me from the realms of night? Long on thefe mould'ring bones have beat The winter's fnow, the fummer's heat, The drenching dews, and driving rain! Let me, let me fleep again. Who is he, with voice unbleft, That calls me from the bed of rett? To break my iron fleep again, § 81. The Triumphs of Owen. A Fragment. OWEN's praise demands my fong, Owen fwift, and Owen strong; Big with hofts of mighty name, Dauntless on his native lands GRAY. From yonder realms of empyrean day 'Twas Milton ftruck the deep-ton'd shell; "Ye brown o'er-arching groves, "That contemplation loves, "Where willowy Camus lingers with delight "Oft at the bluth of dawn "I trod your level lawn, "Oft woo'd the gleam of Cynthia filver-bright "In cloifters dim, far from the haunts of Folly, "With Freedom by my fide, and soft-eyed Melancholy." But, hark! the portals found, and pacing forth, High Potentates, and Dames of royal birth, And fad Chatillon, on her bridal morn The murder'd Saint, and the majestic Lord (Their tears, their little triumphs o'er, "What is grandeur? what is pow'r? § 82. Ode on the Inftallation of the Duke of Heavier toil, fuperior pain. Grafton. Irregular. GRAY. HENCE, avaunt (tis holy ground)! Comus, and his midnight crew, "And Ignorance with looks profound, And dreaming Sloth of palid hue, "Mad Sedition's cry profane, "Servitude that hugs her chain; "Nor in thefe confecrated bow'rs "What the bright reward we gain? "Sweet mufic's melting fall, but sweeter yet “Let painted Flatt'ry hide her ferpent-train in " Welcome my noble fon (the cries, alou), "flow'rs. "Nor Envy base, nor creeping Gain, "Dare the Mufe's walk to ftain, "While bright-eyed Science watches round: "Hence away, 'tis holy ground!" "To this thy kindred train, and me: "Pleas'd in thy lineainents we trace "A Tudor's fire, a Beaufort's grace. "Thy lib'ral heart, thy judging eye, "The flow'r unisceded shall defcry. "And "And bid it round heaven's altars fhed "Lb, Granta waits to lead her blooming band: "Not obvious, not obtrusive, the No vulgar praife, no venal incenfe flings; "Nor dares with courtly tongue refin'd "Profane thy inborn royalty of mind: "She reveres herself and thee. [brow "With modeft pride to grace thy youthful "The laureate wreath, that Cecil wore, the "And to thy juft, thy gentle hand brings, "Submits the fafces of her fway, "While fpirits bleft above, and men below, "Join with glad voice the loud fymphonious lay. "Thro' the wild waves, as they roar, "With watchful eye and dauntless mien "Thy steady courfe of honour keep, "Nor fear the rocks, nor feck the fhore: "The ftar of Brunswick fmiles ferene, "And gilds the horrors of the deep.' " § 83. A Prayer for Indifference. GREVILLE. Sweet airy being, wanton fprite. That lurk'ft in woods unfeen, And for th' Athenian maid who lov'd Oh deign once more t' exert thy pow'r! I ask no kind return of love, No tempting charm to please; Nor peace nor ease the heart can know, Far as diftrefs the foul can wound, 'Tis blifs but to a certain bound; Take then this treacherous fenfe of mine, Oh hane to fhed the facred balm! At her approach, fee Hope, fee Fear, The tear which pity taught to flow The heart that melts for others' woe The wounds which now each moment bleed, To nights of calm repofe. O fairy elf! but grant me this, So may the glow-worm's glimm'ring light To fome new region of delight, And be thy acorn goblet fill'd With heaven's ambrofial dew; Half-pleas'd, contented will I be, 84. The Fairy's Answer to Mrs. Greville's Prayer for Indifference. By the Countess of C. WITHOUT preamble, to my friend Thefe hafty lines I'm bid to fend, Or give, if I am able: I dare not hesitate to say, Tho' I have trembled all the day It looks fo like a fable. Laft night's adventure is my theme; To be compos'd in sport. The moon did fhine ferenely bright, While Zephyr fann'd the trees; Enrapt in folemn thoughts I fate, Yet void of hope or fear; A form fuperior to the rest I've "I've heard ftrange things from one of you, "Pray tell me if you think 'tis true; "Explain it if you can. "Such incense has perfum'd my throne! Such eloquence my heart has won! "I think I guess the hand: "I know her wit and beauty too, "But why the fends a pray'r so new "I cannot understand. "To light fome flames, and fome revive, "To keep fome others juft alive, "Full oft I am implor'd; "But, with peculiar pow'r to please, "To fupplicate for nought but eafe! "Tis odd, upon my word! "Tell her, with fruitlefs care I've fought; "And though my realms, with wonders fraught, "In remedies abound, "No grain of cold indifference "Was ever yet allied to sense "In all my fairy round. "The regions of the sky I'd trace, "I'd ranfack every earthly place, "Each leaf, each herb, each flow'r, "To mitigate the pangs of fear, "Difpell the clouds of black despair, "Or lull the restless hour. "I would be generous as I'm just; "But I obey, as others must, "Thofe laws which fate has made. "My tiny kingdom how defend, "And what might be the horrid end, "Should man my state invade? "Twould put your mind into a rage, "And fuch unequal war to wage "Suits not my regal duty! No glimpse of him I find: $85. The Beggar's Petition. ANON. PITY the forrows of a poor old man, Whofe trembling limbs have born him to your door, Whofe days are dwindled to the fhortest fpan; Hard is the fate of the infirm and poor! 'Tis Heaven has brought me to the state you fee; And your condition may be foon like mine, The Child of Sorrow and of Mifery. A little farm was my paternal lot; $86. Pollio. An Elegiac Ode; written in the Wood near R― Cafle, 1762. MICKLE. Hæc Jovem sentire, deosque cunctos, THE peaceful evening breathes her balmy store, The playful fchool-boyswanton o'er thegreen, Where fpreading poplars thade the cottage-door, The villagers in ruftic joy convene. Amid the fecret windings of the wood, With folemn Meditation let me stray; This is the hour when to the wise and good The heavenly maid repays the toils of day, The river murmurs, and the breathing gale The ftar of evening glimmers o'er the dale, Whispers the gently waving boughs among: And leads the filent hoft of heaven along. How bright, emerging o'er yon broom-clad height, The filver emprefs of the night appears! Yon limpid pool reflects a ftream of light, And faintly in its breaft the woodland bears. The waters tumbling o'er their rocky bed, Solemn and conftant, from yon dell refound; The I i The lonely hearths blaze o'er the diftant glade; | The fainted well, where yon bleak hill declines, The bat, low-wheeling, fkims the dulky] Auguft and hoary, o'er the floping dale, Has oft been confcious of thofe happy hours; But now the hill, the river crown'd with pines, And fainted well have lost their chearing pow'rs; where, Dull thro' the roofs refounds the whistling gale, For thou art gone. My guide, my friend! oh dows waves, And, twining round, the hoary arch fuftains. There oft, at dawn, as one forgot behind, Who longs to follow, yet unknowing where, Some hoary fhepherd, o'er his staff reclin'd, Pores on the graves, and fighs a broken pray`r, High o'erthepines,that withtheirdark'ningfhade Surround yon craggy bank, the caftle rears Its crumbling turrets; till its tow'ry head A warlike mien, a fullen grandeur wears. So, 'midft the fnow of age, a boastful air Still on the war-worn veteran's brow attends; Still his big bones his youthful prime declare, Tho'tremblingo'er the feeble crutch he bends. Wildround thegatesthe duskywall-flow'rs creep, Where oft the knights the beauteous danes have led, Gone is the bow'r, the grot a ruin'd heap, Where bays and ivy o'er the fragments ipread. 'Twas here our fires, exulting from the fight, Great in their bloody arms,march'do'erthelea, Eyeing their rescued fields with proud delight! Now loft to them! and, ah! how chang'd to me! This bank, the river, and the fanning breeze, So fair a bloffom gentle Pollio wore, These were the emblems of his healthful mind; To him the letter'd page difplay'd its lore, To him bright Fancy all her wealth refign'd; Him with her purest flames the Mufe endow'd, Flames never to th' illiberal thought allied: The facred fifters led where Virtue glow'd In all her charms; he faw, he felt, and died. O partner of my infant griefs and joys! Bigwith thefcenesnow paft, my heart o'erflows; Bids each endearment, fair as once, to rife, And dwells luxurious on her melting woes. Oft with the rising fun, when life was new, Along the woodland have I roam'd with thee; Oft by the moon have brush'd the evening dew, When all was fearless innocence and glee. Where hatt thou fled, and left me here behind? My tend'rest wish, my heart to thee was bare; Oh now cut off each paflage to my mind! How dreary is the gulph! how dark, how void, The tracklefs thores that never were repals'd! Dread feparation! on the depth untried, Hope falters, and the foul recoils aghaft! Wide round the spacious heavens I caft my eyes: And thall thefe itars glow with immortal fire? Still fhine the lifelefs glories of the skies? And could thy bright, thy living foul expire? Far be the thought! The pleafures moft fublime, The glow of friendthip, and the virtuous tear, The tow'ring wish that icorns the bounds of time, Chill'd in this vale of death,but languish here. So plant the vine on Norway's wint'ry land, The languid ftranger feebly buds, and dies: Yet there's a clime where Virtue shall expand With godlike ftrength beneath her native fkies! The lonely thepherd on the mountain's fide With patience waits the rofy-opening day; The mariner at midnight's darkfome tide With cheerful hope expects the morning ray; Thus I, on life's ftorm-beaten ocean tofs'd, In mental vition view the happy fhore, Where Pollio beckons to the peaceful coaft, Where fate and death divide the friends no more! Oh that fome kind, fome pitying kindred shade, Who now perhaps frequents this folemngrove, Would tell the awful fecrets of the dead, And from my eyes the mortal film remove! Vain is the wifh-yet furely not in vain Man's bofom glows with that celeftial fire Which fcorns earth's luxuries, which imiles at pain, And wings his fpirit with fublime defire! To fan this fpark of heaven, this ray divine, Still, O my foul! ftill be thy dear employs Still thus to wander thro' the shades be thine, And fwell thy brealt with vifionary joy! So to the dark-brow'd wood, or facred mount, In ancient days, the holy feers retir'd; And, led in vifion, drank at Siloe's fount, While rifing ecftafies their bofoms fir'd. Reftor'd creation bright before them rofe, The burning deferts fmil'd as Eden's plains: One friendly fhade the wolf and lambkin chofe The flow'ry mountain fung, Melliah reigns!" Tho' |