My heart with diftant homage views; Content if thou, celestial Muse, Didft rule my natal hour. IV. Not far beneath the hero's feet, Stands far remote the bard. Though not with public terrors crown'd, V. Lycurgus fashion'd Sparta's fame, Where are they?-Homer's reverend Holds empire to the thirtieth age, And tongues and climes obey. VI. And thus when William's acts divine When Sidney shall with Cato reft, VII. page Yet then shall Shakespear's powerful art O'er every paffion, every heart, Confirm his awful throne: Tyrants fhall bow before his laws; And freedom's, glory's, virtue's cause, Their dread affertor own. ODE VIII. HOLLAND. ODE ON LEAVING I. I. FAREWELL to Leyden's lonely bound, The Belgian Mufe's fober feat; Where dealing frugal gifts around The daring mind should scorn her homely fpoils, I. 2. Farewell the grave, pacific air, Where never mountain zephyr blew : The marshy levels lank aad bare, Which Pan, which Ceres never knew: The Naiads, with obfcene attire, Urging in vain their urns to flow; While round them chaunt the croking choir, And haply footh fome lover's prudent woe, Or prompt fome reftive Bard, and modulate his lyre. I. 3. Farewell, ye nymphs, whom fober care of gain And all his gifts did he in fpite remove. Ye Ye too, the flow-ey'd fathers of the land, And tells a monarch on his throne, O my lov'd England, when with thee JI. 2. Ye nymphs who guard the pathlefs grove, With whom I wont at morn to rove, With whom at noon I talk'd in dreams : To prompt my flumbers in the murmuring fhade, And footh my vacant ear with many an airy strain. II. 3. And thou, my faithful harp, no longer mourn Now Now brighter skies and fresher gales return, With Venus and with Juno move In concert round the Olympian fathers throne? III. I.. " Thee too, protectress of my lays, To Somers' counfels, or to Hamden's arms, "Thee, freedom, I rejoin, and blefs thy genuine flame. III. 2. Great citizen of Albion! Thee Heroic valour still attends And useful fcience pleas'd to fee How art her ftudious toil extends. Fills and commands the pulic eye; Till, pierc'd and finking by her powerful ray, Tame faith and monkish awe, like nightly demons, fly. III. 3. Hence 1 III. 3. Hence the whole land the patriot's ardour fhares: T HRICE hath the spring beheld thy faded fame Since I exulting grafp'd the tuneful shell : Eager through endlefs years to found thy name, Proud that my memory with thine fhould dwell. How haft thou ftain'd the fplendor of my choice! Thofe godlike forms which hover'd round thy voice, Laws, freedom, glory, wither are they flown? What can I now of thee to time report, Save thy fond country made thy impious fport, Her fortune and her hope the victims of thy own? II. There [* See the "Epistle to Curio," in this volume. |