390 395 XLIV And hither Morpheus sent his kindest dreams, O'er which were shadowy cast elysian gleams, So fleece with clouds the pure ethereal space; * * * * * 5 RULE, BRITANNIA! WHEN Britain first, at Heaven's command, This was the charter of the land, And guardian angels sung this strain: "Rule, Britannia, rule the waves; Britons never will be slaves." ΤΟ The nations, not so blest as thee, The dread and envy of them all. Still more majestic shalt thou rise, More dreadful from each foreign stroke; As the loud blast that tears the skies Serves but to root thy native oak. "Rule, Britannia, rule the waves; Britons never will be slaves." Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame; But work their woe, and thy renown. "Rule, Britannia, rule the waves; Britons never will be slaves." WILLIAM COLLINS ODE TO EVENING IF aught of oaten stop, or pastoral song, Thy springs, and dying gales, 50 nymph reserved, while now the bright-haired sun Sits in yon western tent, whose cloudy skirts, With brede ethereal wove, O'erhang his wavy bed: Now air is hushed, save where the weak-eyed bat 10 With short, shrill shriek, flits by on leathern wing; Or where the beetle winds 15 20 His small but sullen horn, As oft he rises 'midst the twilight path, Against the pilgrim borne in heedless hum: Now teach me, maid composed, To breathe some softened strain, Whose numbers, stealing through thy darkening vale, May, not unseemly, with its stillness suit, As, musing slow, I hail Thy genial loved return! For when thy folding star arising shows The fragrant hours, and elves Who slept in flowers the day, And many a nymph who wreathes her brows with sedge, And sheds the freshening dew, and, lovelier still, The pensive pleasures sweet 25 Then lead, calm votaress, where some sheety lake 30 But when chill blustering winds, or driving rain, That from the mountain's side, Views wilds, and swelling floods, And hamlets brown, and dim-discovered spires; 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; 35 40 45 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, sure-found beneath the sylvan shed, 50 Shall fancy, friendship, science, rose-lipped health, Thy gentlest influence own, And hymn thy favourite name! 5 ΤΟ 15 ODE TO FEAR THOU, to whom the world unknown, Ah fear! ah frantic fear! I know thy hurried step, thy haggard eye! Of some loose hanging rock to sleep: And with him thousand phantoms joined, |