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And many a nymph who wreaths her brows with

sedge, And sheds the freshening dew, and, lovelier still,

The pensive Pleasures sweet

Prepare thy shadowy car. Then let me rove some wild and heathy scene; Or find some ruin, midst its dreary dells,

Whose walls more awful nod

By thy religious gleams.
Or if chill blustering winds or driving rain
Prevent my willing feet, be mine the hut,

That, from the mountain's side,

Views wilds, and swelling floods, And hamlets brown, and dim-discover'd spires ; And hears their simple bell; and marks o'er all

Thy dewy fingers draw

The gradual dusky veil. While Spring shall pour his showers, as oft he wont, And bathe thy breathing tresses, meekest Eve!

While Summer loves to sport

Beneath thy lingering light; While sallow Autumn fills thy lap with leaves; Or Winter, yelling through the troublous air,

Affrights thy shrinking train,

And rudely rends thy robes ;
So long regardful of thy quiet rule,
Shall Fancy, Friendship, Science, smiling Peace

Thy gentlest influence own,
And love thy favourite name!

COLLINS.

ODES TO SLEEP.

. I. O THOU whose light touch sheds the opiate dews Of bland Oblivion; thou whose power Man's wearied drooping frame renews, Oft as thou deign’st thy influence shower On my closed lids, lead me, O shadowy queen, To fairy, regions, and some blissful clime Elysian ; picturing the unreal scene In Fancy's gorgeous garb and imagery sublime : And bring from out thy magic cell That potent necromantic spell Which holds the soul in wonder's trance,. While pass thy airy train successive by, Rolling along the vision's ecstasy To rapt Attention's glance: Oft has the bard whom genius warms, Who marks at eve thy spectre-forms, Won from thy magic stores divine The colouring of his simple line; And o'er the page the Muses own Rays of poetic glory thrown; And sketch'd the high wrought scenes, and bade

them glow In radiant hues of light, and Fiction's solemn show.

But far, far greater boast was thine
When Inspiration led thy band;
When not with fond illusions vain,
Such as the idle brain
Alarm with prodigy and dire portent,

Thou camest; but which when Wisdom's self be

held, Rightly she augured what thy visions meant, Shadow'd in doubtful hues by some immortal hand; When breathing mystic truths divine, Full many a seer and prophet thou hast taught, And from the Almighty brought Behests of dread command and import high; While the rapt mind's judging eye In cloudless perspective the future caught: Nor seldom God or Angel held Converse with man; the midnight hour Illumined shone with glory's ray, And coruscations of eternal day Waved, queen of silence! o'er thy darksome bower; Heaven oped her golden portals wide, And far within her glittering courts were spied The' angelic phalanx robed in vestments bright* To earth descending slow from yon fair worlds of

light.

And still thy gracious forms await
The good man on the verge of fate;
When this world and the next between,
The Beatific Vision to the sight
Unfolding opens heaven; then floods the scene,
In boundless bliss absorbed, and deluges of light.
Thou canst the heart of guilt appal;
Thy voice, O awful Sleep, has power
To wake the dead at midnight hour,
Obedient to thy potent call:
And tyrants oft have heard with dread
The cry of vengeance thundering in their ear,

• Genesis xxviii. 12.

While the pale spectre Fear
Hangs her dire portents round the regal bed,
Horrors and woes and death : Night's demons loud
Shriek to the moon afar, from many a passing cloud.

Beneath the dim Earth's centre deep,
Beneath where Ocean rolls his wave,
Where ghosts their lingering sabbath keep,
And, thrown across the gulf of fate,
Where Hell her ponderous adamantine gate
Bars on the mansions of the grave,
Close by Death's door, on either hand,
O Sleep, thy shadowy kingdoms stand;
Stretch'd on thy ebon couch supine,
Soft poppy wreaths thy temples twine;
Around thee mimic Fancy plays,
The shadow of the evening strays,
And busy murmurs creep:
While dreams in clusters thick are spread,
Like hovering mists about thy head,
That with fantastic wing thy dewy eyelids sweep.

About thy sable standard pass
Of Hopes and Fears a mingled mass,
Fluttering Wishes, gay Desires,
Sighs of Disappointment born,
Passion's unextinguish'd fires,
And Melancholy’s plaint forlorn!
While from the tablet of the brain
Memory calls off her dusky train,
Dim-veil'd Illusion mocks the sight
With shortlived phantoms of delight,
And shows of promised bliss that fly
Ere the young Morn with bashful eye,

From Thetis' coral-woven bed,
Lifts o'er the wave his beaming head :
Amidst the deep-surrounding shade
Ambition's gilded trophies fade;
No more the lover's arms enfold
The fair, snatch'd sudden from his view;
And melting like the early dew
Slips from the miser's grasp the evanescent gold.

Vast and stupendous beyond aught,
Fancy, in fit ecstatic, thought;
Or what beside of high-wrought lore
Graced Fiction's elfin tales of yore,
Thy forms in many a wondrous hue
Glance on the bard's astonish'd view,
Or hold in deep suspense his tranced ear;
While many a phantom cleaves the ground,
And busy murmurs circle round,
And airy voices wake that whisper fear:
Oft by the paly star

[wild,
His steps thou lead'st to shadowy wood scenes
Or, where stupendous precipices piled
Gleam through the untrodden wilderness afar;
Where Nature's awful scenes present
Mute wonder and astonishment;
Or in some nook where Solitude
Sits on a rocky fragment rude,
He reads that high immortal line,
Traced by the Muse's hand divine,
Which, while enamour'd of the strain
Memory's bold pencil would retain,
Fades by degrees upon the mental sight,
And seeks Oblivion's shore, and melts before the

light.

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