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These shall the fury passions tear,

Scard at thy frown terrific, fly 'he vultures of the mind,

Self-pleafing Folly's idle brood, Disdainful Anger, pallid Fcar,

Wild laughter, noise, and though:lefs jo', Lad Shame that skulks behind;

And leave us leisure to be good. ir pining Love shall waste their youth,

Light they difperfe ; and with them go ir Jealousy with rankling tooth,

The summer-friend, the fatt'ring foe; Chat inly gnaws the secret heart;

By vain prosperity receiv'd, [liev'da Ind Envy wan, and faded Care,

To her they vove their truth, and are again beirim-vilag'd comfortless Despair,

Wisdom in sable garb array'd, Ind Sorrow's piercing dart.

Immers'd in rapt’rous thought profound, Ambition this shall tempt to rise,

And Melancholy, filent maid, Then whirl the wretch from high,

With leaden eve, that loves the ground, Co bitter scorn a sacrifice,

Still on thy folemn steps attend: Ind grinning infamy.

Warm Charity, the gen’ral friend, Che itings of falsehood those shall try,

With Justice, to herielf severe, Ind hard unkindness' alter'd eye,

And Pity, dropping soft the fadly-pleasing tear. That mocks the tear it forc'd to flow;

Oh, gently on thy suppliant's head, And keen remorte with blood defild,

Dread Goddels, lay thy chalt’ning hand ! And moody madness, laughing wild

Not in thy Gorgon terrors clad, Amid severest woe.

Nor circled with the vengeful band Lo! in the vale of years, beneath

(As by the impious thou art scen) A grilly troop, are teen

With thund'ring voice, and thrcat ning mien, The painful family of Death,

With screaming Horror's fun'ral cry, More hideous than their queen:

Despair, and fell Dilcasc, and ghaftly Poverty. This racks the joints, this fires the veins; Thy form benign, oh Goddess, wear ; That ev'ry lab'ring sinew strains,

Thy milder influence impart, Those in the deeper vitals rage:

Thy philosophic train be there Lo! poverty, to fill the band,

To foften, not to wound my heart, That numbs the foul with icy hand,

The gen'rous spark extinct revive, And Now-consuming age.

Teach me to love and to forgive,

Exact my own defects to fcan, [man. To each his fufførings; all are men,

What others are to feel; and know myself a Condemn'd alike to groan; The tender for another's pain, Th’unfeeling for his own.

77. The Progress of Poesy. A Pindaric Ode. Ye, ah! why should they know their fate!

GRAY. Since forrow never comes too late, And happiness too fivifily flies. Thought would deftroy their paradise.

AWAKE, Æolian lyre, awake, No more--where ignorance is bliss,

And give to rapture all thy trembling strings. 'Tis folly to be wile.

Frem Helicon's harmonious springs
A thousand rills their mazy progress take:
The laughing flow'rs that round them blow,

Drink life and fragrance as they Aow.
§ 76. Odde 10 Adversity. GRAY. Now the rich stream of mufic winds along,

Deep, majestic, simooth, and strong,
DAUGHTER of Jove, relentless poi'r,

Thro’ verdant vales, and Ceres' golden reign : Thou tamer of the human breast, Whose iron scourge and tort'ring hour

Now rolling down the steep amain,

Hcadlong, impetuous, see it pour: [roar. The bad affright, afflict the best! Bound in thy adamantine chain,

The rocks and nodding groves re-bellow to the The proud are taught to taste of pain,

I. 2. And purple tyrants vainly groan

Oh! Sovereign of the willing foul, With pangs unfelt before, unpity'd and alone.

Parent of sweet and folemn-breathing airs, When first thy Sire to send on earth

Enchanting fhell! the fullen cares Virtue, his darling child, design’d,

And frantic pailions hear thy fost controll. To thee he gave the heav'nly birth,

On Thracia's hills the Lord of War And bade to form her infant mind.

Has curb'd the fury of his car, Stern rugged nurse! thy rigid lore

And dropp'd his thirsty lance at thy command. With patience many a year she bore; Perching on the scepter'd hand

What forrow was, thou badist her know : Of Jove, thy magic lulls the feather'd king And from her own fig learn'd to melt at others with ruffled pluines and Ragging wing:


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III. 1.

Quenchid in dark clouds of fluinber lie

Till the fad Nine, in Greece's evil hour, The terror of his beak, and lightings of his eye. Left their Parnassus for the Latian plains ;.

Alike they fcorn the pomp of tyrant pow'r, 1. 3.

And coward vice, that revels in her chains. Thee the voice, the dance obey,

When Latium had her luftv spirit lott, Temper’d to thy warbled lay.

They fought, oh Albion ! next thy fea-ene O'cr Idalia’s velvet-green

circled coast.
The rofy-crowncd loves are seen
On Cytherea's day
With antic Sports, and blue-cy'd pleasures,

Far from the fun and fuinmer-gale,
Frisking light in frolic measures;

In thv green lap was Nature's darling laid, Now pursuing, now retreaung,

What time, where lucid Alo ftray'd, Now in circling troops they meet:

To him the mighty mother did un cil To brikk notes in cadence beating,

Hur au fui face : the dauntless child Glance their many-twinkling fett. [declare: Stretch'd forth irs little arins, and smild. Slow melting ítrains their Queen's approach This penciltake (the faid) white colours clear Where'er ihe turns, the Gracts homage pay.

Richly paint the verna! year: With arms fublime, that float upon

Thine too tholu giden kers, immortal boy! In gliding state the wins her ealy way:

This can unlock the gates of jov; O'er her warm check and rising bosom, move

Of horror that, and thrilling fears, The bloom of young detire, and purple light of Or ope the sacred source of sympathetic tears. love. II. 1.

Nor second he, that rode sublime Man's feeble race what ills await!

Upon the fera;ili-wings of extafy, Labour, and penlry, the racks of pain,

The secrets of th'a vis to ipv. Dileate, and forron's hi eeping train,

He pali'd the flaming bounds of place and time, And death, fad refuge from the torins of Fate ! The living throne, the fapphire blaze, The foud complaint iny fong difprove,

Where angels tremble while they gaze,
And jutify the laws of Jove.

He faw; but, blasted with excets of light,
Sav, los he giv’n in vain the heav'nly Muse? Clos'd his eyes in endless nuht.
Night, and all her fickly dews,

Behold, where Drydeu’s leis presumptuous car
Her speEties wan, and binds of boding cry, Wide o'er the fields of gl ry bear
He gives to range the dreary sky:

Two courfers of the cal race, Till down the castern chills afar

With necks in thunder cloth'd, and long ree Hyperion's mach they tpy, and glitt'ring founding pace.

thafts of war.

thu air,

III. 2.

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11. 2.

Hark, his hands the lyrc explore! In climes beyond the folar road,

Prigle-cy'd Fancy, hov'ring o'er, Where thas y forins o’er ice-luilt mountains ! Scatters from her pictur’d urn The Maie has broke the rwilight glooi?, [roarn, Thoughts that breathic, and words that burn To cheer the thiv’ring native's dull abode,

But ah! 'tis heard no more And oft, beneath the od'rous thade

Oh, lyrc Jivine, what daring spirit Of Chili's boundless forests laid,

Wakes thee now? Tho he inherit She deigns to hear the favage youth repeat

Nor the pride nor ample pinion In looto numbers wildly livet

That the Thei an eagle bear,
Their scather-cinĉiur'd chiefs and dusky loves. Sailing with fupreme dominion
Her track, where'er the Godde is roves,

Thro' the azuie deep of air;
Glorv puitue, and gen'rous fhuine, [flame. Yet oft before lus infat eyes would run
Th’unconquerabic mind, and freedom's holy Such forms as glitter in the mufe's ray,

With orient hues no borround of the fun :

Yet thall he mount, and keep his distant way Woods, that wave o’er Delphi’s ftcep;

Beyond the limits of a pulzar fate ; [Great! Ies, that crown th’Eycan deep;

Bencath the Good bow far! but far above the Fields, that cool lliilus laves; Or where Mzander's amber waves In ling'ring lab'rinths creep,

$ 78. The Bard. A Pinluric Ode. GRAY, How do your tuneful echoes languilh ! Mute, but to the voice of anguish! Where each old poetic mountain

RUIN feire thee, ruthless king, Inspiration breathi'd around;

Confusion on thy banners wait; Ev'ry shade and hollow'd fountain

Tho'fann'd by conquest's crimion wing, Murmur'd dcep a folemn found:

They mock the air with idle state!

I. 1.

• Helm,

II. 2.

1. 2.

II. 3:

* Helm, nor Hauberk's twisted mail,

“ She-wolf of France, with unrelenting fangs, • Nor even thy virtues, Tyrant, thail avail " That tear'lt the toiveis or thiy mangled nate, • To save thy secret foul from nightly fears,

“ From thee be born, whoo'cr ihy country hangs * From Cambria's curfe, from Cambria's tear's !! “ The scourge of Heav’i. What terrors round Such were the sounds that o'er the crested

“ him wait! pride

“ Amazement in his van with Hight combin'd, Of the Firit Edward scatter'd wild dismay,' " And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude behind. As down the steep of Snowden's ihaggy tide He wound with toilsome march his long array. Stout Glo'ster stood aghast in lpeechless trance !

“ Mighty Vietor, mighty Lord! To arms! cry'd Mortimer, and couch'd his " Low on his fun'ral couch he lies; quiv'ring lance.

“ No pitying heart, no eye, afford
“ A tear to grace his oblcquies.

“ Is the fable warrior fled? On a rock, whose haughty brow

“ Thy fon is gone : He rests among the dead. Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood, " The firarm that in thy noon-tide beam were Robid in the fable garb of woe,

" Gone to falute the rising morn. (born, With haggard eyes the poet stood;

“ Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr (Loose his beard, and hoary hair

“ blows, Stream’d, like a metcor, to the troubled air) While proudly riding o'er the azure realm And, with a master's hand and prophct's fire, “ In gallant trim the gilded veel goes; Struck the deep forrows of his lyre.

Youth on the prosv, and pleafiuc at the helm; • Hark, how each giant-oak and defart cave Regardlets of the fiveeping whirlwind's fisay, • Sigh to the torrent's awful voice beneath! • Thiat, huth'd in grim repole, expects his even. • O'er thee, oh King! their hundred arms they

“ing prey. wave, • Revenge on thee in hoarser murmurs breathe; • Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day, “ Fill high the Sparkling bowl, • To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Lewellyn's “The rich repast pre; are, *lay.

“ Reft of a crown, he vet may mhare the feast; “ Close by the regal chair

« Fell thirst and fainine scowl Cold is Cadwallo's tongue,

“ A baleful finile upon their boiled guest. • That hush'd the stormy main:

“ Heard ye the din of bartie brav, < Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed : “ Lance to lance, and horle to horie? • Mountains, ye mourn in vain

Long years of havoc urge their deitin'd course, * Modred, whose magic song

“ And through the kindred squadrons mow their Made huge Plinlimmon bow his cloud-topp'd

way. On dreary Arvon’s fhore they lie [head. “ Ye tours of Julius, London's lasting shame, • Smcard with gore, and ghaftly pale:

“ With many a foul and midnight murder fed, • Far, far aloof th'affrighted ravens fail: “ Revere his confort's faith, his father's faine, · The famish'd eagle fcreams, and passes by. “ And 1pare the meck ufurper's holy head. 'Dear loft companions of iny tuneful art, “ Above, below, the role of snow, Dear, as the light that visits thete fad eyes, “ Twin'd with her bluthing foe, we fpread! • Dear, as the ruddy drops that warm my heart, " The briftled boar in infant gore • Ye dy'd amidst your dying country's cries “ Wallows beneath the thorny Bade. • No more I weep. They do not flecp. “ Now, Brothers, bending o'er th'accurfed loom, • On yonder cliffs, a grilly band,

Stamp we our vengeance deep, and rarify his 6 I see them lit, they linger yet,

T dooin. • Avengers of their native land: • With me in dreadful harmony they join, • And weave with bloody hands the time of “ Edward, lo! to sudden fate 'thy line.'

“ (Wčave we the wouf. The thread is spun.) “ Half of thy heart we confecrate.

“ (The web is wore. The work is donc.)” “ Wcave the warp, and weave the woof, • Stay, oh fayl nor thus forlorn, 6. The winding-sheet of Edward's race. • Lcave me unblefs’d, umpity'd, hcie to mourn: “ Give ample room, and verge enough

In yon bright track, that fires the western skies, 6. The characters of hell to trace.

They melt, they vanilli from my eyes.' “ Mark the vear, and mark the night,

• But oh! what folemn scenes on Snow don's “ When Sevem thall re-echo with alright

• height “ The shricks of death, ihrough Berkley's roofs • Descending flow their glitt'ring skirts unroll! .« that ring,

* Vitions of glory! spare my aching light, “ The Thrieks of an agonizing king!

• Ye unborn ages crowd oot on my soul !


1. 3•

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III. 1.

II. 1.

IIL. 2.

III. 3.

• No more our long-lost Arthur we bewail. Mifta, black terrific maid,
• All hail, ye genuine kings, Britannia's issue, Sangrida and Hilda, see!
• hail !

Join the wayward work to aid :

'Tis the woof of victory. Girt with many a baron bold,

Ere the ruddy fun be set, • Sublime their starry fronts they rear;,

Pikes must thiver, jav’lins fing, • And gorgeous dames, and statesmen old

Blade with clatt'ring buckler meet, • In bearded majesty, appear.

Hauberk crash, and helmet ring. • In the midst, a forin divine!

(Weave the crimson wch of war) . Her eye proclaims her of the Briton-line; Let us go, and let us fly, • Her lion-port, her awe-commanding face, Where our friends the confia thar, • Attemper'd liveet to virgin grace!

Where they triumph, where they die. • What strings fymphonious tremble in the air!

As the paths of fate we tread, • What strains of vocal transport round her play! Wading thro’ th’enfanguin'd field, • Hear from the grave, great Taliellin, hear;

Gondula and Geira spread • They breathe a soul to anima e thy clay.

O'er the youthful king your field.
Bright Rapture calls, and, foaring as the fings,
• Waves in the eye of Heav'n her inany-colourd We the reins to Naughter give,
' wings.

Ours to kill, and ours to spare :
Spite of danger he shall live.

(Weave the crimfon web of war.) · The verse adorn again

They, whom once the defart beach • Fierce War, and faithful Love,

Pent within its bleak domain, • And Truth severe, by fairy Fiction drest.

Soon their ample sway thall stretch • To buikin'd measures move

O'er the plenty of the plain. • Pale Grief, and plcaling Pain, • With Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast.

Low the dauntless earl is laid, • A voice, as of the cherub-choir,

Gord with many a gaping wound: • Gales from blooming F.den bear;

Fate demands a nobler head; • And distant warblings lefsen on my ear,

Soon a king ihall bite the ground. • That loft in long futurity expire.

Long his lofs shall Eirin weep, • Fond, impious man, think'st thou yon fanguine Ne'er again his likeness fee ; cloud,


Long her strains in sorrow ftcep, • Rais'd by thy breath, has quench'd the orb of Strains of immortality! • To-morrow he repairs the golden food, And warms the nations with redoubled ray.

Horror covers all the heath, • Enough for me: with jov I see

Clouds of carnage blot the fun. • The diff'rent doom our fates allign.

Sisters, weave the web of death. . Be thine Despair and scepter'd Care;

Sisters, cease: The work is done. To triumph and to die are mine.'

Hail the task, and hail the hands ! He spoke, and headlong, from the mountain's Songs of joy and triumph sing; height,


Joy to the victorious bands; Deep in the roaring tide he plung’d to endless Triumph to the younger king.

Mortal, thou that hear'ft the tale,

Learn the tenour of our song : $ 79. The Futal Sisters. An Ode. GRAY.

Scotland, thro' each winding vale, NOW the storm begins to lowr

Far and wide the notes prolong. (Hafte, the loom of hell prepare)

Sisters, hence with spurs of speed ! Iron fleet of arrowy Thow?

Each her thund'ring faulchion wield; Hurtles in the darken'd air.

Each bestride her fable steed.
Glittring lances are the loom,

Hurry, hurry, to the field!
Where the dusky warp ivc strain,
Weaving many a soldier's doom,
Orkney's woe, and Randver's bane,

§ 80, The Descent of Odin. Ar Ode. Gray. See the grisly texture grow! ('Tis of human entrails made)

UPROSE the king of men with fpeed,

And faddled strait his coal-black steed: And the weights that play below,

Down the yawniog steep he rode, Each a gasping warrior's head.

That leads to Hela's drear abode, Shafts for shuttles dipt in gore,

Him the dog of darkness fpv'd : Shoot the trembling chords along :

His shaggy throat he open d wide. Sword that once a monarch bore,

While from his jaws, with carnage Gillid, Keep the tissue close and strong.

Foam and human gore diítill'd.


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Hoarse he bays with hideous din,

PROPHETESS. Eyes that glow and fangs that grin;

In the caverns of the West, And long pursues, with fruitlels yell,

By Odin's fierce embrace compreft, The father of the pow'rful spell.

A wond'rous boy shall Rinda bear, Onward ftill his way he takes

Who ne'er shall comb his raven hair, (The groaning earch beneath him shakes) Nor wash his visage in the stream, Till full before his fearless eyes

Nor see the sun's departing beam, The portals nine of hell arise.

Till he on Hoder's corfe Thail inile Right against the eattern gate,

Flaming on the funeral pile. By the moss-grown pile he sat,

Now my weary lips I clole :
Where long of yore to deep was laid

Leave me, leave ine to repose.
The dust of the Prophetic Maid.
Facing to the northern clime,

Thrice he trac'd the Runic rhyme;

Yet a while my call obey; Thrice pronounc'd, in accents dread,

Prophetels, awake, and say, The thrilling verse that wakes the dead;

What Virgins these, in speechless woc, Till from out the hollow ground

That hend to earth their folemn brow,
Slowly breath'd a fullen sound.

That their flaxen treffes tear,

And snowy veils, that float in air

Tell me whence their forrows rose ?
What call unknown, what charms presume
To break the quiet of the tomb ?

Then I leave thee to repose.
Who thus afflicts my troubled sprite,

And drags me from the realms of night?

Ha! no Traveller art thou,
Long on these mould'ring bones have beat
The winter's snow, the summer's heat,

King of Men, I know thee now!
The drenching dews, and driving rain !

Mightieft of a mighty line-
Let me, let ine Neep again.

Who is he, with voice unblest,
That calls me from the bed of rest?

No boding Maid of skill divine

Art thou, nor Prophetess of good,

But mother of the giant-brood!
A traveller, to thee unknown,

Is he that calls; a warrior's son.
Thou the deeds of light Mall know;

Hie thee hence, and boast at home
Tell me what is done below :

That never fall enquirer come For whom yon glittring board is spread,

To break my iron-1leep again,

Till Lok has burft his tenfold chain:
Drest for whom yon golden bed?

Never, till substantial Night

Has re-assum'd her ancient right;
Mantling in the goblet, fee

Till wrapt in faines, in ruin hurld,

Sinks the fabric of the world,
The pure bey'rage of the bee ;
O'er it hangs the thield of gold:
Tis the drink of Balder bold.
Balder's head to death is given.

$ 81. The Triumphs of Owen. A Fragment. GRAY. Pain can reach the Sons of Heav'n!

ou Unwilling I my lips unclose:

WEN's praise demands my song,

Owen rivift, and Owen strong;
Leave me, leave me to repose.

Fairest flow'r of Roderic's item,

Gwyneth's shield, and Britain's gem.
Once again my call obey :

He nor heaps his brouded stores,

Nor on all profusely pours : Prophetels, arise, and sav,

Lord of ev'ry regal art, What dangers Odin's child await,

Lib'ral hand and open heart.
Who the author of his fare?

Big with hofts of mighty name,

Squadrons three against him came ;
In Hoder's hand the hero's doom;

This the force of Eirin hiding; His brother fends him to the tomb.

Side by side as proudly ri ling, Now my weary lips I close :

On her shadow long and gay Leave me, leave me to repose.

Lochlin plows the wat’ry way;

There the Norman fails aiar

Catch the winds, and join the war :
Prophetess, my spell obcy;

Black and huge alerg thuy sweep, Once again arise, and say,

Burthens of the angry deep. Who th’avenger of his guilt,

Dauntlets on his native lands By whom Thall Hoder's blood be spilt ? The dragon-son of Mona stands ;


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