They, whom once the defart beach Horror covers all the heath, § 75. The Dejcent of Odin. An Ode. UPROSE the king of men with speed, GRAY. And faddled straight his coal-black steed: Down the yawning steep he rode, That leads to Hela's drear abode. Him the dog of darknefs fpied: His fhaggy throat he open'd wide; While from his jaws, with carnage fill'd, Foam and human gore diftill'd. Hoarfe he bays with hidecus din, Eyes that glow, and fangs that grin; And long purfucs, with fruitlefs yell, The father of the powerful spell. Onward ftill his way he takes (The groaning earth beneath him shakes), Till full before his fearlefs eyes The portals nine of hell arife. Right against the eastern gate, By the mofs-grown pile he fat, Where long of yore to fleep was laid The duft of the prophetic Maid. Facing to the northern clime, Thrice he trac'd the Runic rhyme; Thrice pronounc'd, in accents dread, The thrilling verse that wakes the dead; Till from out the hollow ground Slowly breath'd a fullen found. Long on thefe mould'ring bones have beat Who is he, with voice unbleft, A traveller to thee unknown For whom yon glitt'ring board is spread, PROPHETESS. Mantling in the goblet fee Once again my call obey ; PROPHETESS. In Heder's hand the hero's doom; Now my weary lips I clofe: Prophetefs, ny fpell obey; PROPHETESS. In the caverns of the Weft, Yet awhile my call obey; PROPHETES S. Ha! no traveller art thou, King of Men, I know thee now ! Mightieft of a mighty line §76. The Triumphs of Owen. A Fragment. OWEN's praife demands my fong, Owen fwift, and Owen strong; Fairest flow'r of Roderic's ftem, Big with hofts of mighty name, Dauntless on his native fands The dragon-fon of Mona stands ; In glitt'ring arms and glory dreft, High he rears his ruby creft. There the thund'ring ftrokes begin, There the prefs, and there the din; Talymalfra's rocky fhore Echoing to the battle's roar. Where his glowing eye-balls turn, Thoufand banners round him burn: Where he points his purple fpear, Hafty, hafty Rout is there; Marking with indignant eve Fear to stop, and fhame to fly. There Confufion, Terror's child; Conflict fierce, and Ruin wild; Agony, that pants for breath; Defpair, and honourable Death. GRAY. Ode on the Inflallation of the Duke of HENCE, avaunt ('tis holy ground)! Comus, and his midnight crew, "And Ignorance with looks profound, "And dreaming Sloth of pallid hue, "Mad Sedition's cry profane, "Servitude that hugs her chain; "Nor in thefe confecrated bow'rs "Let painted Flatt'ry hide her ferpent-train in "Nor Envy bafe, nor creeping Gain, "While bright-eyed Science watches round: From yonder realms of empyrean day There fit the fainted Sage, the Bard divine, The few whom Genius gave to fhine Thro' ev'ry unborn age, and undifcover'd clime. Yet hither oft a glance from high They fead of tender fympathy, To blefs the place where on their op'ning foul 'Twas Milton ftruck the deep-ton'd shell; "Ye brown o'er-arching groves, "That contemplation loves, "Where willowy Camus lingers with delight! "Oft at the blufh of dawn "I trod your level lawn, "Oft woo'd the gleam of Cynthia filver-bright But, hark! the portals found, and pacing forth High Potentates, and Dames of royal birth, · And fad Chatillon, on her bridal morn That wept her bleeding love; and princely Clare; The murder'd Saint, and the majestic Lord (Their tears, their little triumphs o'er, Foremost, Foremost, and leaning from her golden cloud, "Welcome, my noble Son (the cries aloud), "Lo, Granta waits to lead her blooming band, "Not obvious, not obtrufive, fhe "No vulgar praife, no venal incenfe flings; "Nor dares with courtly tongue refin'd "Profane thy inborn royalty of mind; "She reveres herfelf and thee. "With modeft pride to grace thy youthful brow "The laureate wreath, that Cecil wore, the brings, "And to thy juft, thy gentle hand "Submits the fafces of her fway, "While fpirits bleft above, and men below, "Join with glad voice the loud fymphonious lay. Thro' the wild waves, as they roar, "With watchful eye and dauntlefs mien "Thy fteady courfe of honour keep, "Nor fear the rocks, nor feck the fhore: "The Star of Brunfwick fmiles ferene, "And gilds the horrors of the deep." § 78. A Prayer for Indifference. GREVILLE. Sweet airy being, wanton sprite, That lurk't in woods unfeen, And for th' Athenian maid who lov'd Thou fought'ft a wondrous spell; Oh deign once more t'exert thy pow'r! I afk no kind return of love, No tempting charm to please; Nor peace nor ease the heart can know, But, turning, trembles too. Far as diftrefs the foul can wound, Take then this treacherous fense of mine, Oh hafte to fhed the facred balm! And Difappointment in the rear, The tear which pity taught to flow The heart that melts for others woe Shall then fcarce feel its own. The wounds which now each moment bleed, O fairy elf! but grant me this, So may the glow-worm's glimm'ring light To fome new region of delight, And be thy acorn goblet fill'd With heaven's ambrofial dew; Yet void of hope or fear; A form fuperior to the reft And gently thus began: "I've heard ftrange things from one of you, "Pray tell me if you think 'tis true; "Explain it if you can. "Such incenfe has perfum'd my throne ! "Such eloquence my heart has won! "I think I guess the hand: "I know her wit and beauty too, "But why the fends a pray'r fo new "I cannot understand. "To light fome flames, and fome revive, "To keep fome others juft alive, "Full oft I am implor'd; "But, with peculiar pow'r to please, "To fupplicate for nought but ease! "'Tis odd, upon my word! "Tell her, with fruitlefs care I've fought; "And tho' my realms, with wonders fraught, "In remedies abound, "No grain of cold Indifference "Was ever yet allied to fenfe "In all my fairy round. "The regions of the fky I'd trace, "I would be generous as I'm ju; "Thofe laws which fate has made. My tiny kingdom how defend, "And what might be the horrid end, "Should man my state invade ? "Twould put your mind into a rage, "And fuch unequal war to wage "Suits not my regal duty! This faid, he darted o'er the plain, No glimple of him I find: But fure I am, the little fprite Thefe words, before he took his fight, Thefe tatter'd clothes my poverty befpeak, Yon house, erected on the rifing ground, Oh take me to your hofpitable dome! Should I reveal the fources of my grief, pine? 'Tis Heaven has brought me to the state you fee; And your condition may be foon like mine, The Child of Sorrow and of Milery. A little farm was my paternal lot, Then like the Jark I fprightly hail'd the morn; And left the world to wretchedness and me. How bright, emerging o'er yon broom-clad | O partner of my infant griefs and joys! height, The filver emprefs of the night appears! Yon limpid pool reflects a stream of light, And faintly in its breaft the woodland bears. The waters tumbling o'er their rocky bed, Solemn and conftant, from yon dell refound; The lonely hearths blaze o'er the diftant glade; The bat, low-wheeling, fkims the dulky ground. Auguft and hoary, o'er the floping dale, The Gothic abbey rears its fculptur'd tow'rs ; Dull through the roofs refounds the whiftling gale, Dark folitude among the pillars low'rs. Where yon old trees bend o'er a place of And folemn fhade a chapel's fad remains, Where yon fcath'd poplar through the window waves, graves, And, twining round, the hoary arch fuftains; There oft, at dawn, as one forgot behind, Who longs to follow, yet unknowing where, Some hoary fhepherd, o'er his staff reclin'd, Pores on the graves, and fighs a broken pray'r. Higho'er the pines, that with their dark ning fhade Surround yon craggy bank, the caftle rears Its crumbling turrets; ftill its tow'ry head A warlike mien, a fullen grandeur wears. So, 'midst the fnow of age, a boastful air Still on the war-worn veteran's brow attends; Still his big bones his youthful prime declare, Tho' trembling o'er the feeble crutch he bends. Wild round the gates the dufky wall-flow'rs creep, Where oft the knights the beauteous dames have led, Gone is the bow'r, the grot a ruin'd heap, Where bays and ivy o'er the fragments spread. 'Twas here our fires, exulting from the fight, Great in their bloody arms, march o'er the lea, Eying their refcued fields with proud delight! Now loft to them! and, ah! how chang'd to me! This bank, the river, and the fanning breeze, The dear idea of my Pollio bring; So fhone the moon thro' thefe foft nodding trees, When here we wander'd in the eves of fpring. When April's fmiles the flow'ry lawn adorn, And mcdeft cowflips deck the streamlet's fide; When fragrant orchards to the roleate morn Unfold their bloom, in heaven's own colours dyed: So fair a bloffom gentle Pollio wore, Thefe were the emblems of his healthful mind; To him the letter'd page display'd its lore, To him bright Fancy all her wealth refign'd; Him with her pureft flames the Mufe endow'd, Flames never to th' illiberal thought allied: The facred fifters led where Virtue glow'd In all her charms; he faw, he felt, and died. Big with the fcenes now paft, my heart o'erflows; Bids each endearment, fair as once, to rife, And dwells luxurious on her melting woes. Oft with the rifing fun, when life was new, Along the woodland have I roam'd with thee; Oft by the moon have brush'd the evening dew, When all was fearlefs innocence and glee. The fainted well, where yon bleak hill declines, Has oft been confcious of thofe happy hours; · But now the hill, the river crown'd with pines, And fainted well have loft their cheering pow'rs; For thou art gone. My guide, my friend! oh where, Where haft thou fled, and left me here behind? My tend'reft with, my heart to thee was bare; Oh now cut off each paffage to my mind! How dreary is the gulph! how dark, how void, The tracklefs fhores that never were repafs d!' Dread feparation! on the depth untried, Hope faulters, and the foul recoils aghast! Wide round the fpacious-heavens I caft my eyes: Still thine the lifelefs glories of the skies? And fhall thefe ftars glow with immortal fire? And could thy bright, thy living foul expire? Far be the thought! The pleafures moft fublime, The glow of friendship, and the virtuous tear, The tow'ring with that fcorns the bounds of time, Chill'd in this vale of death, but languish here.. So plant the vine on Norway's wint'ry land, The languid stranger feebly buds, and dies : Yet there's a clime where Virtue fhall expand With godlike ftrength beneath her native fkies! The lonely shepherd on the mountain's fide With patience waits the rofy opening day; The mariner at midnight's darkfome tide With cheerful hope expects the morning ray : Thus I, on life's ftorm-beaten occan tof'd, In mental vision view the happy fhore, Where Pollio beckons to the peaceful coaft, Where fate and death divide the friends no more! Oh that fome kind, fome pitying kindred fhade, Who now perhaps frequents this folemn grove, Would tell the awful fecrets of the dead, And from my eyes the mortal film remove! Vain is the with yet furely not in vain Man's bofom glows with that celeftial fire Which fcorns earth's luxuries, which finiles at pain, And wings his fpirit with fublime defire! To fan this fpark of heaven, this ray divine, Still, O my foul! still be thy dear employ; Still thus to wander thro' the fhades be thine, And fwell thy breaft with vifionary joy! |