of ideas entirely new. And the address to Liberty, which concludes this admirable ode, is far superior to any thing of that kind with which we are so frequently entertained by our most admired poets; as it is more expressive of the true sense and spirit of an Englishman.

Just and lively pictures are the very essence of an ode, as well as of an auction-room, whether there are any proper places to hang them in or not; and such there are in the narrow compass of this little piece, of every thing that is great and beautiful in nature; of the morning rising from the ocean; of the Sun, the Moon, and the planetary system; of a giant and a hermit; of woods, rocks, and mountains, and the seasons of the revolving year and in all these, the images are so entirely new, the transitions so sudden and unexpected, so void of all apparent art, yet not without much of that which is quite invisible; the thoughts are so sublime, so distant from all vulgar ideas or common sense, that the judicious reader will scarcely find in it a single deviation from the severest laws of just criticism; and if he can peruse this incomparable work without an enthusiastic admiration, he ought to conclude, that whatever delight he may receive from poetry of other kinds, he is one of those unfortunate geniuses who have no taste for that most sublime species of it, the ode.

ODE.

"I'LL Combat Nature, interrupt her course, And baffle all her stated laws by force; Tear from its bed the deeply-rooted pine,

And hurl it up the craggy mountain's side; Divert the tempest from its destin'd line,

And stem the torrent of th' impetuous tide; Teach the dull ox to dance, the ass to play, And even obstinate Americans t' obey.

"Like some dread Herald, tigers I 'll compel In the same field with stags in peace to dwell: The rampant lion now erect shall stand,

Now couchant at my feet shall lie depress'd; And if he dares but question my command, With one strong blow I 'il halve him to a crest." Thus spoke the giant Gogmagog: the sound Reverberates from all the echoing rocks around.

Now Morning, rob'd in saffron-colour'd gown,

Her head with pink and pea-green ribbands dress'd,

Climbs the celestial staircase, and looks down
From out the gilt balcony of the east;
From whence around she sees

The crystal lakes and tufted trees,

The lawns all powder'd o'er with straggling flocks, The scarce-enlighten'd vales, and high o'ershadowing rocks.

Enamour'd with her newly-dawning charms,
Old Ocean views her with desiring eyes,
And longs once more to clasp her in his arms,
Repenting he had suffer'd her to rise;
Forth from his tumbled bed,
From whence she just had fled,

To the slow loitering hours he roars amain,
To hasten back the lovely fugitive again.

Parent of life! refulgent lamp of day!
Without whose genial animating ray
Men, beasts, the teeming earth, and rolling seas,
Courts, camps, and mighty cities, in a trice
Must share one common fate, intensely freeze,
And all become one solid mass of ice;
Ambition would be froze, and Faction numb,
Speeches congeal'd, and orators be dumb.

Say, what new worlds and systems you survey!
In circling round your planetary way;
What beings Saturn's orb inhabit, tell,

Where cold in everlasting triumph reigns;
Or what their frames, who unconsum'd can dwell
In Mercury's red-hot and molten plains;
Say! for most ardently I wish to know,
What bodies can endure eternal fire or snow!

And thou, sweet Moon! canst tell a softer tale;
To thee the maid, thy likeness, fair and pale,
In pensive contemplation oft applies,

When parted from her lov'd and loving swain, And looks on you with tear-besprinkled eyes,

And sighs and looks, and looks and sighs again; Say, for thou know'st what constant hearts endure; And by thy frequent changes teach the cure.

Thy gentle beams the lonely hermit sees
Gleam through the waving branches of the trees,
Which, high-embow'ring, shade his gloomy cell,
Where undisturb'd perpetual silence reigns,
Unless the owl is heard, or distant bell,

Or the wind whistling o'er the furzy plains.
How bless'd to dwell in this sequester'd spot:
Forgetting parliaments; by them forgot!

Now lovely Spring her velvet mantle spreads,
And paints with green and gold the flow'ry meads;
Fruit-trees in vast white periwigs are seen,

Resembling much some antiquated beau,
Which north-east winds, that blow so long and keen,
Powder full oft with gentle flakes of snow;
Soft nightingales their tuneful vigils hold,
And sweetly sing and shake-and shake with cold.
Summer succeeds; in ev'nings soft and warm
Thrice-happy lovers saunter arm in arm ;
The gay and fair now quit the dusty town,

O'er turnpike-roads incessant chaises sweep, And, whirling, bear their lovely ladings down,

To brace their nerves beneath the briny deep; There with success each swain his nymph assails, As birds, they say, are caught-can we but salt their tails.

Then Autumn, more serene, if not so bright,
Regales at once our palate and our sight;
With joy the ruddy orchards we behold,

And of its purple clusters rob the vine;
The spacious fields are cover'd o'er with gold,
Which the glad farmer counts as ready coin:
But disappointment oft his hopes attends-
In tythes and mildews the rich prospect ends.

Last, Winter comes; decrepid, old, and dull; Yet has his comforts too-his barns are full; The social converse, circulating glass,

And cheerful fire, are his: to him belong Th' enlivening dance that warms the chilly lass, The serious game at whist, and merry song;

Vanum iter ingreditur; nigris namque imminetalis,
Et cursu in medio Mors intercludit euntem.
Quorsum isthoc, si nil sapientia dia creârit
Incassum? Quorsum hæc divinæ semina mentis,
In proprios si non poterunt adolescere fructus?
Lcquid enim prodest reruin cognoscere causas;
Jungere venturis præsentia; mente vagari
Solem atque astra super, morituro? Scilicet omnes
Una manet Lethi lex et commune sepulcrum.
Nonne ergo satius cum Phyllide ludere in umbra;
Teque, Lvæe pater, læt's celebrare choreis?
Novit enim Bacchus curas depellere, novit
Præteriti sensus abolere metumque futuri.

Quare age, vina liques: epulæ, convivia, lusus,
Psallere docia Chloe, citharæque perita Neæra,
Non absint; volucris rape lætus dona diei;
Quærere nec cures quid crastina proferat hora.
Atqui pertæsum est harum citò deliciarum;
Scilicet, hæc satiat vix dum libata voluptas.
Ergo dimissis quæramus sera nugis.
Accumulentur opes; ducit quò gloria, quòve
Ambitio, stipatus eas examine denso

Mane salutantum. Quid multa? Huc denique eòdem

Volveris, ut clames heu! quantum in rebus inane! Quænam igitur tentanda via est? Ubi littus amicum?

| Man, only man, solicitous to know
The springs whence Nature's operations flow,
Plods through a dreary waste with toil and pain,
And reasons, hopes, and thinks, and lives in vain;
For sable Death still hov'ring o'er his head,
Cuts short his progress, with his vital thread.
Wherefore, since Nature errs not, do we find
These seeds of Science in the human mind,
If no congenial fruits are predesign'd?
For what avails to man this power to roam
Through ages past, and ages yet to come,
T'explore new worlds o'er all th' ethereal way,
Chain'd to a spot, and living but a day?
Since all must perish in one common grave,
Nor can these long laborious searches save,
Were it not wiser far, sup nely laid,

To sport with Phillis in the noontide shade?
Or at thy jovial festivals appear,

Great Bacchus, who alone the soul can clear,
From all that it has felt, and all that it can fear?
Come on then, let us feast: let Chloe sing,
And soft Neæra touch the trembling string;
Enjoy the present hour, nor seek to know
What good or ill to morrow may bestow.

But these delights soon pa'l upon the taste;
Let's try then if more serious cannot last:
Wealth let us heap on wealth, or fame pursue,

est,

Mens alia ex aliis scire, ac sine fine gradatim
Eternum (sic fert natura) attingere verum.

Gaudia quinetiam non hæc fugientia poscit,
At magis apta sibi, vicibusque obnoxia nullis;
Gaudia perpetuum non interitura per ævum.

Quare sume animum; neque enim sapentia dia Frustra operam impendit; neque mens arctabitur istis

Limitibus quibus hoc periturum corpus; at exsors
Terrenæ labis viget, æternùmque vigebit:
Atque ubi corporeis emissa, ut carcere, vinclis,
Libera cognatum repetet, vetus incola, cœlum,
Nectareos latices veri de fonte perenni
Hauriet, ætheriumque perennis carpet amomum.
At verò dum vita manet (si vita vocanda est
Corporis hæc cæco conclusa putamine) torpet
Vivida vis animi, nec ovantes explica alas.
Multa tamen veteris retinet vestigia stirpis.
Unde etenim tot rés reminiscitur? Unde tot apto
Ordine disponit, mox et depromit in usus?
Quippe haud tam locuples hæc, tamque immensa
supellex

tled in Lincoln's Inn, where he engaged in the profession of the law. In 1759 he published this poem, De Animi Immortalitate, which was universally read, and as universally admired, not only for the choice and arrangement of the matter, but the purity of the language, which Lucretius himself would have acknowledged as a perfect copy of his style. Struck with the arguments, the disposition of those arguments, and the beauty of the expression, but above all with the bright contrast to the obscurity of the metaphysical pocts of the last century; Mr. Jenyns was the first who translated it into English, and whose translation, as it was first in time, was also first in propriety and elegance amongst those with which the public was afterwards favoured.

Mr. Browne's happy vein in poetry placed him

In courts, in camps, in senates let us live,
Our levees crowded like the buzzing hive:
Each weak attempt the same sad lesson brings!
Alas! what vanity in human things!

What means then shall we try? where hope to find

A friendly harbour for the restless mind?
Who still, you see, impatient to obtain
Knowledge immense, (so Nature's laws ordain)
Ev'n now, though fetter'd in coporeal clay,
Climbs step by step the prospect to survey,
And seeks, unwearied, truth's eternal ray.

No fleeting joys she asks, which must depend
On the frail senses, and with them must end;
But such as suit her own immortal fame,
Free from all change eternally the same.

Take courage then, these joys we shall attain;
Almighty wisdom never acts in vain;
Nor shall the soul on which it has bestow'd
Such pow'rs e'er perish like an earthly clod;
But purg'd at length from foul corruption's stain,
Freed from her prison and unbound her chain,
She shal' her native strength, and native skies regain:
To Heav'n an old inhabitant return,
[urn.
And draw nectareous streams from truth's perpetual
Whilst life remains, (if life it can be call'd
T' exist in fleshly bondage thus enthrall'd)
Tir'd with the dull pursuit of worldly things,
The soul scarce wakes, or opes her gladsome wings,
Yet still the godlike exile in disgrace
Retains some marks of her celestial race;
Else whence from mem'ry's store can she produce
Such various thoughts, or range them so for use?

amongst the foremost of the art in his lifetime, the justice of which preference posterity will be enabled to determine, from a collection of his poems published in octavo, by his only son Isaac Hawkins Browne, esq.—a mark of filial piety, one of the prominent features in his most respectable and amiable character.

Corporis in cellis poterit stipata teneri ; Aut vi corporea revocari in luminis oras.

Illa etiam inventrix, varias quæ protulit artes, Suppeditans vitæ decus et tutamen egenæ; Nomina quæ imposuit rebus, vocemque ligavit Literulis; aut quæ degentes more ferarum, Dispersosque homines deduxit in oppida; quæve Legibus edomuit, foedusque coegit in unum; Quænam isthæc nisi vis divinior, ætheriusque Sensus, et afflatu cœlesti concita virtus?

Jam quorum undanti eloquium fluit amne, rapitque

Quò velit affectus, tonitruque et fulgura miscet;
Divitias trahit unde suas? Vigor igneus ille.
Num mortale sonat? Quid ceuses carmina va-
tum?

Sive etenim flexu numerorum vique canora,
Oblectet varia dulcedine lapsus ad aures;
Seu, speciosa canens rerum miracula, fictis
Ludat imaginibus, peragretque per intima cordis ;
Nil parvum spirat, nil non sublime Poeta.
Cumque super terris quæ fiunt, quæque tuemur
Omnia, curriculo volventia semper eodem,

Non explent animum, varia et magis ampla petentem;

Sanctus adest vates, per quem sublimior ordo,
Pulcrior et species, et mentis idonea votis
Exoritur, vitæ spes auguriumque futuræ.

Quid, qui cœlestes nôrunt describere motus;
Sidera, qua circa solem, qua lege cometæ
Immensum per inane rotentur, ut æthere vasto
Astra alia illustrent alios immota planetas;
Nonne hanc credideris mentem, quæ nunc quoque;
cœlum

Astraque pervolitat, delapsam cœlitus, illuc
Unde abiit remeare, suasque revisere sedes?

Qui tandem hæc fierent nisi quædam in mente subesset

Vis sua, materiæ mixtura immunis ab omni? Conscia porrò sibi est, vult, nonvult, odit, amatque,

Et timet, et sperat; gaudet, moeretque sua vi
Ipsa; ministerio neque corporis indiget ullo:
Viribus ipsa suis inter se comparat, et res
Sejungit rebus; vaga dissociataque veri
Membra minutatim legit, ac concinnat amicè.
Elicit hine rerum causas, atque artibus artes
Hinc alias aliis super extruit ordine pulcro;
Et magis atque magis summa ad fastigia tendit
Unde omnis series causarum apparet, et omnis
Numinis à solio ad terram demissa catena.
Denique et in sese descendit, et aspicit intus
Rerum ideas, quo quæque modo nascantur;
unde

et

Cogitet, ac prope jam sua quæ sit fabrica novit. Tantane corporea est virtus? An machina vires Percipit ulla suas, aut quid sibi præbeat escam? Omne etenim corpus nihil est nisi machina, motu Impulsa externo, non interiore suoque.

Vulgiigitur studiis noli altæ mentis acumen Metiri; ast illos, etiam nunc laude recentes, Contemplare viros tellus quos Attica, vel quos

Si quis rem acutius introspiciat, firmum ex Poesi sumitur argumentum, magnitudinem rerum magis illustrem, ordinem magis perfectum, et varietatem magis pulchram animæ humanæ complacere, quam in natura ipsa, post lapsum reperire ullo modo possit. Quapropter, cum res gestæ, et

Can matter these contain, dispose, apply?
Can in her cells such mighty treasures lie?
Or can her native force produce them to the eye?
Whence is this pow'r, this foundress of all arts,
Serving, adorning life, through all its parts,
Which names impos'd, by letters mark'd those
Adjusted properly by legal claims, [names,
From woods and wilds collected rude mankind,
And cities, laws, and governments design'd?
What can this be, but some bright ray from Heav'n,
Some emanation from Omniscience giv'n?

When now the rapid stream of eloquence
Bears all before it, passion, reason, sense,
Can its dread thunder, or its lightning's force.
Derive their essence from a mortal source?
What think you of the bard's enchanting art,
Which, whether he attempts to warm the heart
With fabled scenes, or charm the ear with rhyme,
Breathes all pathetic, lovely, and sublime?
Whilst things on Earth roll round from age to age,
The same dull farce repeated on the stage;
The poet gives us a creation new,
More pleasing and more perfect than the true;
The mind, who always to perfection hastes,
Perfection, such as here she never tastes,
With gratitude accepts the kind deceit,
And thence foresees a system more complete.
Of those what think you, who the circling race
Of suns, and their revolving planets trace,
And comets journeying through unbounded space?
Say, can you doubt, but that th' all-searching soul,
That now can traverse Heav'n from pole to pole,
From thence descending visits but this Earth,
And shall once more regain the regions of her birth?
Could she thus act, unless some power unknown,
From matter quite distinct and all her own,
Supported and impeil'd her? She approves
Self-conscious, and condemns; she hates, and loves,
Mourns, and rejoices, hopes, and is afraid,
Without the body's unrequested aid:
Her own internal strength her reason guides,
By this she now compares things, now divides,
Truth's scatter'd fragments piece by piece collects,
Rejoins, and thence her edifice erects;
Piles arts on arts, effects to causes ties,
And rears th' aspiring fabric to the skies:
From whence, as on a distant plain below,
She sees from causes consequences flow,
And the whole chain distinctly comprehends,
Which from th' Almighty's throne to Earth de-
And lastly, turning inwardly her eyes,
Perceives how all her own ideas rise,
Contemplates what she is, and whence she came,
And almost comprehends her own amazing frame.
Can mere machines be with such pow'rs endu'd,
Or, conscious of those pow'rs, suppose they cou'd?
For body is but a machine alone

[scends:

Mov'd by external force, and impulse not its own,
Rate not th' extension of the human mind
By the plebeian standard of mankind,
But by the size of those gigantic few,
Whom Greece and Rome still offer to our view;

eventus, qui veræ historiæ subjiciuntur, non sint ejus amplitudinis, in qua anima humana sibi satisfaciat, Præsto est Poesis quæ facta magis Heroica confingat.-Bacon de Augmentis Scientiarum, lib. i. E.

Roma, nec alterutri cedens tulit Anglia, nutrix
Heroum, dum tempus erat, melioribus annis.

Quid tibi tot memorem divino pectore vates,
Totve repertores legum, fandive potentes ?
Quid, per quos venit spectanda scientia; dudùm
Informi cooperta situ, lucemque perosa?
Ante alios verò Baconus, ut ætherius sol,
Effulgens, artes aditum patefecit ad omnes.
Hic à figmentis sophiam revocavit ineptis
Primus; quàque regit fida experientia gressus,
Securum per iter, Newtono scilicet idem
Designatque viam, et præcursor lampada tradit.
Illustres animæ! Si quid mortalia tangunt
Coelicolas, si gentis adhuc cura ulla Britannæ;
Vos precor, antiquum vos instaurate vigorem ;
Ut tandem excusso nitamur ad ardua somno,
Virtutis veræ memores, et laudis avitæ.
Nempe horum egregias reor haud sine numine
dotes

Enasci potuisse; Deum quin tempore in omni Conspersisse, velut stellas, hinc inde locorum Splendidiora animi quasi quædam lumina; ut istis Accensa exemplis se degener efferat ætas, Agnoscatque suî quàm sit sublimis origo.

Præterea esse aliquid verè quod pertinet ad nos, Morte obita, nemo secum non concipit; intus, Monstratum est intus; testatur docta vetustas; Publica vox clamat; neque gens tam barbara quæ

non

Prospiciat trans funus, et ulteriora requirat.

Hinc seritur, tarde crescens, et posthuma merces, Quercus, natorum natis quæ prosit: et ingens Pyramidum moles stat inexpugnabilis annis.

Hinc cura illa omnis vivendi extendere metas, Nomine victuro; tanti est hinc fama superstes, Ingenio ut quisquis præcellit, nulla recuset Ille subire pericla, nec ullos ferre labores, Si modo venturi speciem sibi vendicet ævi, Gloriaque ad seros veniat mansura nepotes.

Nonne videmus uti convictus criminis, ipso Limine sub mortis, culpam tamen abneget omnem; Mendax, ut sibi constet honos atque integra fama? Nempe animis hæc insevit natura futuri Indicia obscurasque notas; hinc solicita est mens, De se posteritas quid sentiat; at nihil ad nos Postera vox, erimus si nil nisi pulvis et umbra; Sera venit, cineres nec tangit fama quietos.

Quid porrò exequiæ voluere? Quid anxia cura Defunctis super, et moles operosa sepulcri? Pars etenim terræ mandant exsangue cadaver, Et tumulo serta imponunt, et sacra quotannis Persolvunt; tanquam poscant ea munera manes: Extructa pars ritè pyra, cremat insuper artus, Colligit et cineres, fidaque reponit in urna ; Ut sic relliquiæ durando sæcula vincant.

Quid memorem fluctu quos divite Nilus inundans Irrigat? His patrius mos non exurere flamma,

VOL. XVII.

Or Britain, well-deserving equal praise, Parent of heroes too in better days.

Why should I try her num'rous sons to naine By verse, law, eloquence, consign'd to fame ? Or who have fore'd fair Science into sight Long lost in darkness, and afraid of light? O'er all superior, like the solar ray, First Bacon usher'd in the dawning day, And drove the mists of sophistry away; Pervaded nature with amazing force, Following experience still throughout his course, And finishing at length his destin'd way, To Newton he bequeath'd the radiant lamp of day. Illustrious souls! if any tender cares Affect angelic breasts for man's affairs, If in your present happy heav'nly state, You 're not regardless quite of Britain's fate, Let this degenerate land again be bless'd With that true vigour which she once possest; Compel us to unfold our slumb'ring eyes, And to our ancient dignity to rise.

Such wondrous pow'rs as these must sure be giv'a For most important purposes by Heav'n; Who bids these stars as bright examples shine, Besprinkled thinly by the hand divine, To form to virtue each degenerate time, And point out to the soul its origin sublime.

That there's a self which after death shall live,
All are concern'd about, and all believe;
That something's ours, when we from life depart,
This all conceive, all feel it at the heart;
The wise of learn'd antiquity proclaim
This truth, the public voice declares the same;
No land so rude but looks beyond the tomb
For future prospects in a world to come.

Hence, without hopes to be in life repaid,
We plant slow oaks posterity to shade;
And hence vast pyramids, aspiring high,
Lift their proud heads aloft, and time defy.

Hence is our love of fame, a love so strong,
We think no dangers great, or labours long,
By which we hope our beings to extend,
And to remotest times in glory to descend.

For fame the wretch beneath the gallows lies,
Disowning ev'ry crime for which he dies;
Of life profuse, tenacious of a name,
Fearless of death, and yet afraid of shame.
Nature has wove into the human mind
This anxious care for names we leave behind,
T' extend our narrow views beyond the tomb,
And give an earnest of a life to come:
For if when dead we are but dust or clay,
Why think of what posterity shall say?
Her praise or censure cannot us concern,
-Nor ever penetrate the silent urn.

1

What mean the nodding plumes, the fun'ral train,

And marble monument that speaks in vain,

With all those cares which ev'ry nation pays

To their unfeeling dead in different ways?

Some in the flower-strewn grave the corpse have

laid,