But thou, oh Nymph retir'd and coy!
In what brown hamlet doft thou joy
To tell thy tender tale ;

The lowlieft children of the ground,
Mofs rofe and violet bloffom round,
And lily of the vale.

O fay what foft propitious hour,
I beft may chufe to hail thy power,
And court thy gentle fway?

When Autumn, friendly to the Mufe,
Shall thy own modest tints diffuse,
And shed thy milder day..

When Eve, her dewy ftar beneath,
Thy balmy fpirit loves to breathe,,
And every storm is laid;

If fuch an hour was e'er thy choice,
Oft let me hear thy foothing voice

Low whispering through the shade.

MRS. BARBAULD.

CHA P. XIII.

ODE TO FEA R..

THOU, to whom the world unknown
With all its shadowy fhapes is thown,

Who feeft appall'd th' unreal fcene,
While Fancy lifts the veil between :

Ah Fear! ah frantic Fear!
I fee, I fee thee near.

I know thy hurried ftep, thy haggard eye!
Like thee I ftart, like thee disorder'd fly,
For lo, what monsters in thy train appear !
Danger, whose limbs of giant mould
What mortal eye can fix'd behold?
Who ftalks his round, an hideous form,
Howling amidst the midnight storm,
Or throws him on the ridgy steep
Of fome loofe hanging rock to fleep:
And with him thousand phantoms join'd,
Who prompt to deeds accurs'd the mind :
And thofe, the fiends, who near allied,
O'er Nature's wounds, and wrecks prefide;
While Vengeance, in the lurid air,
Lifts her red arm, exposed and bare :
On whem that ravening brood of fate,
Who lap the blood of Sorrow, wait :
Who, Fear, this ghaftly train can fee,
And look not madly wild, like thee?

Thou who fuch weary lengths haft past.
Where wilt thou reft, mad Nymph, at last ?
Say, wilt thou shroud in haunted cell,
Where gloomy Rape and Murder dwell?
Or in fome hollow'd feat,

'Gainst which the big waves beat,

Hear drowning feamen's cries in tempefts brought!
Dark power, with shuddering meek fubmitted thought!
Be mine, to read the visions old,

Which thy awakening bards have told,
And, left thou meet my blasted view,
Hold each strange tale devoutly true;

Ne'er

Ne'er be I found, by thee o'er aw'd,
In that thrice hallow'd eve abroad,
When ghofts, as cottage maids believe,
Their pebbled beds permitted leave,
And goblins haunt from fire, or fen,
Or mine, or flood, the walks of men!
O thou whofe fpirit moft poffeft
The facred feat of Shakspeare's breast !
By all that from thy prophet broke,
In thy divine emotions spoke !
Hither again thy fury deal,

Teach me but once like him to feel:

His cypress wreath my meed decree,

And I, O Fear! will dwell with thee.

CHAP. XIV.

ODE TO TRUTH.

AY, will no white-rob'd Son of Light,,

Swift darting from his heav'nly height,

Here deign to take his hallow'd ftand;
Here wave his amber locks'; unfold
His pinions cloth'd with downy gold;
Here smiling stretch his tutelary wand?

And you, ye hoft of Saints, for ye have known
Each dreary path in Life's perplexing maze,

Tho' now ye circle yon eternal throne

With harpings high of inexpreffive praise,

COLLINS

Will not your train descend in radiant state,

To break with Mercy's beam this gathering cloud of Fate?

'Tis filence all. No Son of Light
'Darts fwiftly from his heav'nly height :

No train of radiant Saints defcend.

"Mortals, in vain ye hope to find, "If guilt, if fraud has stain’d your mind, "Or Saint to hear, or Angel to defend." So TRUTH proclaims. I hear the facred found Burft from the center of her burning throne: Where aye fhe fits with ftar-wreath'd luftre crown'd ; A bright Sun clafps her adamantine zone.

SO TRUTH proclaims: her awful voice I hear:

With many a folemn pause it flowly meets my ear.

"Attend, ye Sons of Men; attend, and fay,

Does not enough of my refulgent ray

Break thro' the veil of your mortality ?,

Say, does not reason in this form defcry
Unnumber'd, nameless glories, that surpass

The Angel's floating pomp, the Seraph's glowing grace ?
Shall then your earth-born daughters vie

With me? Shall fhe, whofe brightest eye

But emulates the diamond's blaze,

Whose cheek but mocks the peach's bloom,
Whose breath the hyacinth's perfume,

Whose melting voice the warbling woodlark's lays,'
Shall fhe be deem'd my rival? Shall a form
Of elemental drofs, of mould'ring clay,

Vie with these charms imperial? the poor worm
Shall prove her contest vain. Life's little day

Shall pafs, and she is gone: while I appear

Flush'd with the bloom of youth thro' Heav'n's eternal year.

Knows

Know, Mortals know, ere firft ye fprung,
Ere first these orbs in æther hung,

I fhone amid the heav'nly throng;
These eyes beheld Creation's day,
This voice began the choral lay,

And taught Archangels their triumphant fong.
Pleas'd I furvey'd bright Nature's gradual birth,
Saw infant Light with kindling luftre spread,
Soft vernal fragrance clothe the flow'ring earth,
And Ocean heave on its extended bed;

Saw the tall pine aspiring pierce the sky,
The tawny lion ftalk, the rapid eagle fly.

Laft, Man arose, erect in youthful grace, Heav'n's hallow'd image ftamp'd upon his face, And, as he rofe, the high beheft was given "That I alone of all the hoft of heav'n, "Should reign Protectress of the godlike youth, Thus the Almighty spake; he spake and call'd me TRUTH.

С Н А Р. XV.

ODE TO FANCY.

PARENT of each lovely Mufe,

Thy fpirit o'er my foul diffuse,
O'er all my heartlefs fongs prefide,
My footsteps to thy. temple guide,
To offer at thy turf-built fhrine,
In golden cups no coftly wine,
No murder'd fatling of the flock,
But flowers and honey from the rock.

MASON.

O Nymph