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hefe fhall the fury paffions tear,
Ir pining Love fhall waste their youth,
Ambition this fhall tempt to rife,
And grinning infamy.
The ftings of falsehood those shall try,
Lo! in the vale of years, beneath
This racks the joints, this fires the veins;
To each his fuff'rings; all are men,
Yet, ah! why should they know their fate!
$76. Ode to Adverfity. GRAY.
of the human breast,
Whofe iron fcourge and tort'ring hour
With pangs unfelt before, unpity'd and alone.
Scar'd at thy frown terrific, fly
To her they vow their truth, and are again be-
Immers'd in rapt'rous thought profound,
With leaden eye, that loves the ground,
And Pity, dropping foft the fadly-pleafing tear.
Oh, gently on thy fuppliant's head,
With thund'ring voice, and threat ning mien,
$77. The Progress of Poefy. A Pindaric Ode.
AWAKE, Eolian lyre, awake,
And give to rapture all thy trembling strings. Frem Helicon's harmonious fprings A thoufand rills their mazy progrefs take: The laughing flow'rs that round them blow, Drink life and fragrance as they flow. Now the rich stream of mufic winds along, Deep, majestic, fimooth, and strong, Thro' verdant vales, and Ceres' golden reign: Now rolling down the steep amain, Headlong, impetuous, fee it pour: The rocks and nodding groves re-bellow to the I. 2.
Oh! Sovereign of the willing foul,
And frantic pallions hear thy fort control.
And dropp'd his thirsty lance at thy command.
Of Jove, thy magic lulls the feather'd king
Quench'd in dark clouds of Nuinber lie
Till the fad Nine, in Greece's evil hour, The terror of his beak, and lightings of his eye. Left their Parnasus for the Latian plains ; .
Alike they scorn the posip of tyrant pow'r,
And coward vice, that reicis in her chains. Thee the voice, the dance obey,
When Latium had her lofty spirit loft, Tenper'd to thy warbled lay.
They fought, oh Albion ! next thy sea-ena O'er Italia’s velvet-green
circled coast. Tlie rosy-crowned loves are seen
Far from the sun and summer-gale,
Ia tv green lap was Nature's darling laid, Now pursuing, now retreaung,
What time, where lucid Avon stray'd, Now in circling troops they mect:
To him the mighty mother did unieil To brikk notes in cadence beating,
Hur anful face : the dauntless child Glance their many-twinkling fott. [declare: Stretch'd forth its little arins, and smild. Slow melting ítrains their Queen's approach This pencil take (the faid) whose colours clear Where'er ihe turns, the Graces homage pay.
Richly paint the vernal year: With arms fublime, that float upon the air,
Tisine too thoug viden kevs, immortal boy! In gliding state the wins her ealy way:
This can unlock the
of jov; O'er her warm check and rising bofom, move Of horror that, and thrilling fears, The bloom of young delire, and purple light of Or ope the sacred source of fympatictic tears. love, II. 1.
Nor second he, that rode sublime Man's feeble race what ills await!
Upon the serapk-wings of extaly, Labour, and pentry, the racks of pain,
The secrets of th'abvis to ipv. Dricate, and forton's "eeping train,
He pass’d the flaming bounds of place and time, And death, fad refuge from the forms of Fate ! The living throne, the fapphire blaze, The fond complaint my fong difprove,
Where angels tremble while they gaze,
He faw; but, blafted with excess of light,
Behold, where Dryden's leis presumptuous car
Trocourfers of the cal race,
With necks in thunder cloth'd, and long re. Hyperion's maich they tpy, and glitt'ring founding pace. thafts of war.
Hark, his hands the lyrc explore!
Priglie-evid Fancy, hov'ring o’er,-
But an! 'tis heard no more
Oh, lyrc Jivine, what daring spirit Of Chili's boundleis forests laid,
'akes thee now? Tho he inherit She deigns to hear the favage youth repeat
Nor the pride por ample pinion In loofc numters wildly fiece
That the Thean eagle bear,
Thro the azuie deep of air;
With orient hues unborrow'd of the fun :
Yet th:ll he mount, and keep his distant way Woods, that wave o'er Delphi’s ficep;
Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate ; [Great! Iles, that crown th’Egian deep;
Doncath the Good bow far!--but far above the Fields, that cool lliilus iaves; Or where Mzander's amber waves In ling’ring lab'rinths creep,
§ 78. The Bard. A Pinduric Ode. GRAY,
RUIN feire thee, ruthless king,
Confusion on thy banners wait; Ev'ry shade and hollow'd fountain
• Tho'fanni'd by conquest's crimion wing, Murmur'd dcep a folemn found:
They mock the air with idle ftate !
Cold is Cadwallo's tongue, That hufh'd the ftormy main:
Brave Urien fleeps upon his craggy bed: Mountains, ye mourn in vain
Modred, whofe magic fong
Made huge Plinlimmon bow his cloud-topp'd
Dear, as the light that vifits these fad eyes,
With me in dreadful harmony they join,
"Weave the warp, and weave the woof, "The winding-fheet of Edward's race. "Give ample room, and verge enough "The characters of hell to trace.
"Mark the year, and mark the night, "When Severn thall re-echo with affright
"The fhricks of death, through Berkley's roofs
"The fhricks of an agonizing king!
"Edward, lo! to fudden fate
(Weave we the woof. The thread is fpun.) "Half of thy heart we confècrate.
"(The web is wove. The work is done.)"
Stay, oh ftay nor thus forlorn,
Leave me unblefs'd, unpity'd, here to mourn : In yon bright track, that fires the western skies, They melt, they vanith from my eyes.'
But oh what folemn fcenes on Snowden's
'No more our long-loft Arthur we bewail. All hail, ye genuine kings, Britannia's iffue, hail!
Girt with many a baron bold,
• Sublime their itarry fronts they rear;
Her eye proclaims her of the Briton-line;
Fierce War, and faithful Love,
And Truth fevere, by fairy Fiction drest.
Pale Grief, and pleasing Pain,
With Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast.
And diftant warblings leffen on my ear,
cloud, Rais'd by thy breath, has quench'd the orb of To-morrow he repairs the golden flood, And warms the nations with redoubled ray. Enough for me: with jov I fee The diff'rent doom our fates allign. Be thine Despair and fcepter'd Care; To triumph and to die are mine.' He fpoke, and headlong, from the mountain's height, [night. Deep in the roaring tide he plung'd to endless
§ 79. The Fatal Sifters. An Ode. GRAY.
NOW the form begins to lowr
(Hafte, the loom of hell prepare)
Mista, black terrific maid,
Ere the ruddy fun be set,
Where our friends the conflict share,
Low the dauntless earl is laid,
Horror covers all the heath,
$89, The Defcent of Odin. An Ode. GRAY. UPROSE the king of men with speed,
And faddled ftrait his coal-black fteed: Down the yawning fteep he rode, That leads to Hela's drear abode. Him the dog of darkness spy'd: His fhaggy throat he open'd wide. While from his jaws, with carnage fill'd, Foam and human gore diítill'd.
Hoarfe he bays with hideous din,
Right against the eastern gate,
What call unknown, what charms presume To break the quiet of the tomb? Who thus afflicts my troubled fprite, And drags me from the realms of night? Long on thefe mould'ring bones have beat The winter's fnow, the fummer's heat, The drenching dews, and driving rain! Let me, let me fleep again. Who is he, with voice unbleft, That calls me from the bed of rest?
A traveller, to thee unknown,
For whom yon glitt'ring board is spread,
Mantling in the goblet, fee The pure bev'rage of the bee; O'er it hangs the shield of gold: 'Tis the drink of Balder bold. Balder's head to death is given. Pain can reach the Sons of Heav'n! Unwilling I my lips unclose: Leave me, leave me to repofe. ODIN.
Once again my call obey : Prophetefs, arife, and fay, What dangers Odin's child await, Who the author of his fate?
In Hoder's hand the hero's doom; His brother fends him to the tomb. Now my weary lips I clofe: Leave me, leave me to repofe.
Prophetefs, my fpell obey; Once again arife, and say, Who th'avenger of his guilt,
By whom fhall Hoder's blood be fpilt?
In the caverns of the Weft, By Odin's fierce embrace compreft, A wond'rous boy shall Rinda bear, Who ne'er fhall comb his raven hair, Nor wash his vifage in the stream, Nor fee the fun's departing beam, Till he on Hoder's corfe fhall fmile Flaming on the funeral pile. Now my weary lips I clofe : Leave me, leave ine to repofe.
Yet a while my call obey; Prophetefs, awake, and say, What Virgins thefe, in fpeechlefs woc, That bend to earth their folemn brow, That their flaxen treffes tear, And fnowy veils, that float in air? Tell me whence their forrows rofe? Then I leave thee to repofe.
Ha! no Traveller art thou, King of Men, I know thee now! Mightieft of a mighty line————
No boding Maid of skill divine Art thou, nor Prophetefs of good, But mother of the giant-brood!
Hie thee hence, and boast at home That never fhall enquirer come To break my iron-fleep again, Till Lok has burft his tenfold chain: Never, till fubftantial Night
Has re-affum'd her ancient right; Till wrapt in flames, in ruin hurl'd, Sinks the fabric of the world.
$81. The Triumphs of Owen. A Fragment. GRAY OWEN's praise demands my fong,
Owen fwift, and Owen ftrong;
Big with hofts of mighty name,
Dauntiefs on his native fands