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Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting, and
Possest beyond the Muse's painting: test
By turns they felt the glowing mind
Disturb’d, delighted, raised, refined.
Till once, 'tis said, when all were fired,
Fill'd with fury, rapt, inspired,
From the supporting myrtles round

They snatch'd her instruments of sound;
And as they ofc had heard apart
Sweet lessons of her forceful art.
Each, for madness ruled the hour,
Would prove his own expressive power,
First Fear his hand, its skill to try.
Amid the chords bewilder'd laid,

And back recoild, he knew not why,
E'en at the sound himself had made.

Next Anger rush'd, his eyes on fire,

In lightnings own'd his secret stings,
In one rude clash he struck the lyre,

And swept with hurried hand the strings.
With woful measures wan Despair-

Low sullen sounds his grief beguiled,
A solemn, strange, and mingled air,

'Twas sad by fits, by starts 'twas wild. But thou, O Hope with eyes so fair,

What was thy delighted measure?
Still it whisper'd promised pleasure,

And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail !
Still would her touch the strain prolong,
And from the rocks, the woods, the vale,

l a She callid on Echo still through all the song;

And where her sweetest theme she chose,

A soft responsive voice was heard at every close, And Hope enchanted smiled, and waved her golden hair. And longer had she sung—but, with a frown,


of the music that accompanied them, having in themselves little more merit than that of an ordinary ballad: but in this we have the whole soul and power of poetry :-expression that, even without the aid of music, strikes to the heart; and imagery of power enough to transport the attention without the forceful alliance of corresponding sounds. What then must have been the effects of these united 1

The picture of Hope in this ode is beautiful almost beyond imitation. By the united powers of imagery and harmony, that delightful being is exhibited with all the charms and graces that pleasure and fancy have appropriated to her. The descriptions of Joy, Jealousy, and Revenge, are excellent, though not equally so: those of Melancholy and Cheerfulness are superior to every thing of the aind; and, upon the whole, there may be very little hazard in asserting that this is the finest ode in the English language. Read-Observations on Collins's Poems in the 58th vol. of Johnson's Poets.

And ever and anon he beat

The doubling drum with furious heat;
And though sometimes, each dreary pause between,

Dejected Pity at his side

Her soul-subduing voice applied,
Yet still he kept his wild unalter'd mien,
While each strain'd ball of sight seem'd bursting from his head.
Thy numbers, Jealousy, to naught were fix'd,

Sad proof of thy distressful state,
Of differing themes the veering song was mix'd,

And now it courted Love, now raving call’d on Hate.

With eyes up-raised, as one inspired,
Pale Melancholy sat retired,
And from her wild sequester'd seat,
In notes by distance made more sweet,
Pour'd through the mellow horn her pensive soul:

And dashing soft from rocks around,

Bubbling runnels join'd the sound;
Through glades and glooms the mingled measure stole,
Or o'er some haunted streams with fond delay,

Round a holy calm diffusing,

Love of peace, and lonely musing,
In hollow murmurs died away.
But, O, how alter'd was its sprightlier tone!
When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue,

Her bow across her shoulder flung,

Her buskins gemm'd with morning dew,
Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung,
The hunter's call to Faun and Dryad known:

The oak-crown'd sisters, and their chaste-eyed queen,
Satyrs and sylvan boys were seen,

Peeping from forth their alleys green;
Brown Exercise rejoiced to hear,
And Sport leapt up, and seized his beechen spear.
Last came Joy's ecstatic trial;
He, with viny crown advancing,

First to the lively pipe his hand addrest,
But soon he saw the brisk-awakening viol,
Whose sweet entrancing voice he loved the best.

They would have thought, who heard the strain,
They saw in Tempe's vale her native maids,

Amidst the festal sounding shades,
To some unwearied minstrel dancing;
While, as his flying fingers kiss'd the strings,
Love framed with Mirth a gay fantastic round,

Loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound,
And he, amidst his frolic play,
As if he would the charming air repay,
Shook thousand odors from his dewy wings.

O Music, sphere-descended maid,
Friend of pleasure, wisdom's aid,


Thou who, amidst the deathful field,

By godlike chiefs alone beheld,
Oft with thy bosom bare art found,
Pleading for him the youth who sinks to ground:

See Mercy, see, with pure and loaded hands,

Before thy shrine my country's genius stands,
And decks thy altar still, though pierced with many a wound

When he whom e'en our joys provoke,

The fiend of Nature join'd his yoke,
And rush'd in wrath to make our isle his prey;

Thy form, from out thy sweet abode,

O'ertook him on his blasted road,
And stopp'd his wheels, and look'd his rage away.

I see recoil his sable steeds,

That bore him swift to savage deeds,
Thy tender melting eyes they own;
O Maid, for all thy love to Britain shown,

Where Justice bars her iron tower,

To thee we build a roseate bower, Thou, thou shalt rule our queen, and share our monarch's throne!


In yonder grave a Druid lies

Where slowly winds the stealing wave!
The year's best sweets shall duteous rise,
To deck its Poet's sylvan grave!

In yon deep bed of whispering reeds

His airy harp? shall now be laid,
That he, whose heart in sorrow bleeds,
May love through life the soothing shade.

Then maids and youths shall linger here,

And, while its sounds at distance swell,
Shall sadly seem in Pity's ear

To hear the woodland pilgrim's knell.


Remembrance oft shall haunt the shore

When Thames in summer wreaths is drest,
And oft suspend the dashing oar .

To bid his gentle spirit rest!

1 This ode on the Death of Thomson seems to have been written during an excursion to Richmond on the Thames. « Collins had skill to complain.” or that mournful melody, and those tender images, which are the distinguishing excellencies of such pieces as bewail departed friendship or beauty, he was almost an unequalled master.

? The harp of Æolus of which see a description in Thomson's Castle of Indolence.


V. shelters Other duti And oft as Ease and Health retire a

SE To breezy lawn, or forest deep,

EST The friend shall view yon whitening spire, ribal t a

And 'mid the varied landscape weep. Se t plus

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SAMUEL RICHARDSON, who may be said to be the inventor of the modern English novel, was the son of a carpenter in Derbyshire, and was born in 1689. From the limited means of his father, he was restricted to a common school education, which is very apparent in the structure of his composition. He early exhibited, however, the most decisive marks of genius, and was re

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