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II. 3.

"With Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast. " Fill high the sparkling bowl,

A voice, as of the cherub-choir, “ The rich repast prepare,

• Gales from blooming Eden bear; Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast : L. And distant warblings lessen on my ear, “ Close by the regal chair

• That lost in long futurity expire. [cloud, “ Fell thirst and fainine scow]

Fond impious man! think’st thouyon sanguine “ A baleful smile upon their baffled guest.

· Rais'd by thy breath, has quench'd the orb of ye the din of battle bray,

To-morrow he repairs the golden flood, [day? “ Lance io lance, and horse to horse ?

And warms the nations with redoubled ray. Long years of havoc urge their destin'd course, Enough for me : with joy I see " And thro' their kindred squadrons now their

· The diff'rent doom our fates assign.

Be thine Despair, and sceptred Care; “ Ye tow'rs of Julius, London's lasting shame, To triumph, and to die, are mine. [height. "With many a foul and midnight murder fed, He spoke ; and, headlong froin the mountain's " Reverc his consori's faith, his father's fame, Deep in the rearing lide he plung'd to endless " And spare the meek usurper's holy head.

night. Above, below, the rose of snow, " Twin'd with her blushing foe we spread ; $ 77. The Futal Sisters. An Ode. GRAY. “ The bristled boar in infant gore

Now the storm begins to low'r “ Willows beneath the thorny shade.

(Haste, the loom of hell prepare);
" Now, brothers, bending o’erth’accursed loom, Iron slect of arrowy show'r
Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his Hurtles in the darken'd air.

Glittring lances are the loom
III. 1.

Where the dusky warp we strain, " Edwaril, lo! to sudden fate

Weaving many a soldier's doom, “ Weave we the woof. The thread is

Orkney's woe,

and Randver's bane.

spun.) “ Half of thy heart we consecrate.

See the grisly texture grow! (The web is wove. The work is done.)" ('Tis of human entrails made) Stay, oh stay! nor thus forlorn,

And the weights that play below,
• Leave me unblest, unpitied, here to mourn : Each a gasping warrior's head.
• In yon bright track, that fires the westernskies, Shafts for shuttles, dipt in gore,

They melt, they vanish froin my eyes.
• But oh! what'solemn scenes on Snowdon's Sword, that once a monarch bore,

Shoot the trembling cords along :
• height
Descending slow their glitt'ring skirts unroll: Keep the tissue close and strong.
r Visions of glory, spare my aching sight!

Misia, black terrific maid, * Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul! Sangrida, and Hilda, see !

No more our long-lost Arthur we bewail. Join the wayward work to aid :
* All-hail, ye genuine kings, Britannia's issue, "Tis the woof of victory.
• hail!

Ere the ruddy sun be set,
III. 2.

Pikes must shiver, jav'lings sing, • Girt with many a baron bold

Blade with clatt'ring buckler incet, • Sublime their starry fronts they rear;

Hauberk crash, and helmet ring. ' Aud gorgeous dames, and statesmen old (Weave the crimson web of war.) • In bearded majesty appear.

Let us go, and let us fly, • In the midst a form divine !

Where our friends the confliet share,
• Her eye proclaims her of the Briton-line; Where they triumph, where they die.
Her líon-port, her awe-commanding face,

As the paths of fate we tread,
Attemper'd sweet to virgin grace.
What string symphonious tremble in the air! Gondula, and Geira, spread

Wading thro' th' ensanguin'd field,
• What strains of vocal transport round her play! O'er the youthful king your shield.
• Hear from the grave, great Taliessin, hear;
They breathe a soul to animate thy clay.

We the reigns to slaughter give, • Bright Rapture calls, and, soaring as she sings, Ours to kill, and ours to sparc: * Wave in the eye of Heaven her inany-color'd Spite of danger he shall live. ' wings.

(it eave the crimson web of war.) III. 3.

They, whom once the desert beach "The verse adorn again

Pent within its bleak domain, Fierce War, and faithful Love,

Soon their ample sway shall stretch) And Truth severe, by fairy Fiction dress'd.

O'er the plenty of the plain. • In buskin'd measures move

Low the dauntless carl is laid, Pale Grief, aud pleasing Pain,

Gor'd with many a gaping wound:

Fate me,

ODIN.

Fate demands a nobler head;

ODIN. Soon a king shall bite the ground.

A traveller to thee unknown Long his loss shall Eirin weep,

Is he that calls, a warrior's son. Ne'er again his likeness see ;

Thou the deeds of light shalt know; Long her strains in sorrow steip,

Tell me what is done below, Strains of immortality!

for whom yon glitt'ring board is spread, Horror covers all the heath,

Drest for whom yon golde: bed? Clouds of carnage blot the sun.

PROPHE TESS. Sisters, weave the web uf death,

Mantling in the goblet see Sisters, cease! the work is done.

The pure bev'ra re of the bee; Hail thiç task, and hail the hands!

O'er it hangs the shield of gold : Songs of joy and triumplı siny:

"Tis the drink of Balder bold.

Balder's head to deallt is given.
Joy to the victorious bauls;
Triumph to the younger king.

Pain can reach the Sons of Ilearen!
Mortal, thou that hear'st the tale,

Unwilling I my lips unclose :
Leave

leave me to repose.
Learn the tenor of our song.
Scutland, througn each winding vale,
Far and wide the notes prolong.

Once again my call obey;
Sisters, hence with spurs of peed!

Prophetess, arise, and say Each her thundring talchion wield;

What dangers Odin's child await,

Who the author of his fate?
Each bestride lier sable steed.
Hurry, liurry, to the field !

PROPHETES Ş.
In Hoder's hand the hero's doon ;

His brother send: him to the tomb.
$78. The Descent of Odin. An Ode. Gray. Now my weary Bijos 1 close :
U PROSE the king of men with speed,

Leave me, leave use to repose. And saddled straight his coal-black steed:

ODIN. Down ibe yaw ning sleep he rode,

Prophetess, my spell obey; That leads to Hela's drear abode.

Once again arise, and say Hiin the dog of darkness spied :

Who th' avenger of his guilt, His shaggy throat he open 'd wide;

By whom shall Hoder's blood be spilt? While from his jaws, with carnage filled,

PRO PH ET ES S. Foain and human gore distillid.

In the carerns of the West, Hoarse he bays with hideous din,

By Odin's fierce cmbrace comprest, Eyes that glow, and fangs that grin;

A wondrous bov shall Rinda bear, And long pursues, with fruitless yell, Who ne'er shall comb his raven hair, The father of the powerful spell.

Nor waslı his visage in the steam, Onward still his way he takes

Nor see the sun's departing beam, (The groaning earth bencath him shakes), Till he on Huder's corse shall smile, Till full before his fearless eves

Flaming on the funeral pile. The portals nine of hell arise.

Now my weary lips I close : Right against the eastern gale,

Leave nie, leave me to repose. By the moss-grown pile he sat,

ODIN. Where long of yore to sleep was laid

Yet aw hile my call obey;
The dust of the prophetic Maid.

Prophetess, awake, and say
Facing to the northern clime,
Thrice he trac'd the Runic rhyme;

What virgins these, in speechless woc,

That bend to carth their solemn brow, Thrice pronounc'd, in accents dread;

That their faxen tresses tear. The thrilling verse that wakes the dead;

And snowy veils, that float in air. Till from out the hollow ground

Tol me whence their sorrows rose; Slowly breath'd a sullen sound.

Then I leave thee to repose. • PROPHETE S S.

PROPHETE S.S. What call unknown, what charms, presume

Ila! no traveller art thou, To break the quiet of the tomb?

King of Men, I kuow thee now! Who thus afflicts my troubled sprite,

Alightiest of a nighty fine
And drags me froin ihe realms of night?

ODIN.
Long on these mould’ring bones have beat No boding maid of skill divine
The winter's snow, the summer's heat, Art thou, nor prophetess of good,
The drenching dews, and driving rain! But mother of the giant brood !
Let me, let me sleep again.

PROPHETE SS.
Who is he, with voice unblest,

Hie thee hence, and boast at home That calls me from the bed of rest?

That never shall inquirer come

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To break my iron sleep again,

From yonder realms of empyrean dag Till Lok has burst his tenfold chains

Bursts on my ear th'indignant lay : Never, till substantial Night

There sit the sainted Sage, the Bard divine, His re-assum'd her antient right,

The few whom Genius gave to shine Till wrapt in Hames, in ruin hurlid,

Thro'ev'ry unborn age, and undiscover'd clime, Sinks the fabric of the world.

Rapt in celestial transport they;
Yei hither of a glance from high

They send of tender sympathy, $79. The Triumphs of Owen. A Fragment. To bliss the place where on their op'ning soul

GRAY. First the genuine ardor stole. Ower's praise demands my song,

'Twas Milton struck the deep-ton'd shell; Owen swifi, and Owen strong;

And, as the choral warblings round him swell, Fairest flow'r of Roderic's stem

Meek Newton's selfbends from his state sublime, Gwyneth's shield, and Britain's gem.

And nods his hoary head, and listens to the He nor heaps his brooder scores,

rhyme. Nar on all profusely pours ;

Ye brown o'er-arching groves, Lord of ev'ry regal art,

" That contemplation loves, Lib'ral hand, and open heart.

" Where willowy Camus lingers with delight 1 Big with hosts of mighty name,

“ Oft at the blush of dawn Squadrons three against hiin came;

I trod your level lawn, This the force of Eirin hiding;

** Oft woo'd the gleam of Cynthia silver bright Side by side as proudly riding,

* In cloisters dim, far from the haunts of Folly, On her shadow long and gay

* With Freedom by my side, and soft-eyed Locklin ploughs the wat'ry way ;

"* Melancholy. There the Norman sails afar (atch the winols, and join the war :

But, hark! the portals sound, and pacing forth, Black and huge along they sweep,

With solemur steps and slow, Burtheus of the angry deep.

High Potentates, and Dames of royal birth, Dauntless on his native sands

And mitred Fathers, in long order go : The dragon-son of Mona stands ;

Great Edward, with the lilies on his brow In glitt'ring arms and glory drest,

From haughty Gallia turn; High he rears his ruby crest.

And sad Chatillon, on her bridal morn There the thund'ring strokes beyin,

That wept her bleeding love; and princely Clare; There the press, and there the din;

And Anjou's heroine; and the paler Rose, Talymalfra's rocky shore

The rival of her crown and of her woes; Echoing to the battle's roar.

And either llenry there, Where his glowing eye-balls turn,

The murder'd Saint, and the majestic Lord Thousand banners round bin hurn;

That broke thie bonds of Rome Where he points his purple spear,

(Their tears, their little triumphs o'er Hasty, hasty Rout is there ;

Their

human passions now no more, Marking with indignant eye

Save Charity, that ylows beyond the tomb). Fear to stop, and shame to fly:

All that on Granta's fruitful plain There Confusion, Terror's child;

Rich strcams of regal bounty pour'd, Conflict fierce, and ruin wild;

And bade these awful fanes and turrets rise, Azony, that pants for breath;

To hail their Fitzroy's festal morning cone; Despair, and honorable death.

And thus they speak in soft accord

The liquid language of the skies : 5 80. 'Ode on the Installation of the Duke of " Heavier toil, superior pain.

“ What is grandeur ? what is pow'r ?.". Grufton. Irregular. GRAY.

“ What the bright reward we gain ?" HENCE, araunt ('tis holy ground !) “ The grateful memory of the Good. " Comus, and his inidniglit crew,

“ Sweet is the breath of vernal show'r, " And Ignorance with looks profound, “ The bee's collected treasures sweet, " And dreaming Sloth of palid hue,

“ Sweet music's melting fall, but sweeter yet " Mad Sedition's cry profane,

“The still small voice of Gratitude.” " Servitude that hugs her chain;

Foremost, and leaning from her gold'n cloud, "Nor in these consecrated bow'rs

The venerable Margaret see ! "Let painted Flatt'ry hide her serpent-train in "Welcome my noble son (she cries aloud), is How'rs.

“ To this thy kindred train, and me: "Nor Envy base, nor creeping Gain, “ Pleas'd in ihy lineaments we trace " Dare the Muse's walk to stain,

“ A Tudor's fire, a Beaufort's grace. " While bright-eyed Science watches round: “ Thy lib'ral heart, thy judging eye, ** Hence away, 'uis holy ground !"

"The Aow'r unhecded shall descry.

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" And bid le round heaven's ałtars shed At her approach, see Hope, see Feas, “ The fragrance of its blushing head : 1, See Expectation fly;

Shall raiso from earth the latent gem; And Disappointment in the rear, To glitter on the diadem.'

That blasts the promis'd joy. * Lo, Grantã waits to lead her blooming Band: The tear which pity taught to flow • Not obvious, not obtrusive, she

The eye shall ihen disown; “No vulgar praise, no venal incense flings : The heart that melts for others' woe “ Nor dares with courtly tongue refin'd Shall then scarce feel its own. “ Profane thy inborn royalty of mind: The wounds which now each moment bleed, “ She reveres herself and thee. [brow

Each moment then shall close; "With modest pride to grace thy youthful And tranquil days shall still succeed “ The laureate wreath, that Cecil wore, she Te nights of calm repose. "And to thy just, thy gentle haud [brings, or Submits the fasces of her sway,

b fairy elf! but grant me this,

This one kind comfort send; " While spirits blest above, and men below, “ Join with glatvoicothe loud symphonjouş lay. And so may never-fading bliss « Thro' the wild waves, as they roar,

Thy flow'ry paths attend ! " With watchful eye and dauntless mien .il So may the glow-worin's glimm'ring light Thy steady course of honor keep,

Thy tiny footsteps lead “ Nor fear the rocks, nor seek the shore : To some new region of delight, " The star of Brunswick smiles serene, !. Unknown to mortal tread: "And gilds the horrors of the deep.”

And be thy acorn goblet fill'd 1

With heaven's ambrosial dew; $ 81. A Prayer for Indifference. GREVILLE.

From sweetest, freshest, how'rs distilla, OET I've impkord the gods in vain,

That shod fresh sweets for you! And pray'd till I've been weary, sland what of life remains for me For onee I'll try my wish to gain

l'll pass in sober ease; Of Oberon the Fairy,

bus Half-pleas'd, contented will I be, Sweet airy being, wanton sprito;

Content but half to please.
That lurk'st in woods unseen,'
And oft býi Cynthia's silver light,

S 82. The Fairy's Answer to Mrs. Greville's Tripp’st gaily o'er the green ;

Prayer for Indifference.
If e'et thy pitying heart was movid,

By the Countess of C-
As antient stories tell,
And for th' Athenian maid who lov'd

Without preamble, to my friend
Thou sought'st a wondrous spell;

These hasty lines I'ın bid to send,

Or give, if I am able : Oh deign once more t'exert thy pow's! I dare not hesitate to say, Haply some herb of treest.

Tho' I have trembled all the day Sov’reign as juice of western flow'r,

looks so like a fable. Conceals a balın for me.

Last night's adventure is my theme; I ask no kind return of love,

And should it strike you as a dream, No tempting charm to please;

Yet soon its high import Far from the heart those gifts remove

Must make you own the matter such, That sighs for peace and ease :

So delicate, it were too much Nor peace nor ease the heart can know,

To be compos'd in sport. Which, like the necdle true,

The moon did shine serepely bright, Turns at the touch of joy or woe,

And every star did deck the nighi, But, turning, trembles loo.

While Zephyr fann'd the trees; Far as distress the soul can wound,

No more assail'd iny mind's repose, 'Tis pajni in each degree :

Save that yon stream, whick murmuring flows, 'Tis bliss but to a ecrtainr bound;

Did echo to the breeze. Beyond, is agony.

Enrapt in solemn thoughts I sate, Take then this treacherous sense of mine, Revolving o'er the turns of fate, Which dooins me still to smart;.

Yet void of hope or fear; Which pleasure can to pain refiwe,

When, lo! behold an airy throng, To pains new pats impart.

With lightest steps, and jocund song, Ob haste to shed the sacred balm!

Surpris'd my eye and ear. My shatter*t nerves. new string;

A form superior to the rest And for my guest, serenely calm,

Ilis little voice to me addressidy The nyoph ludifference bring.

And gently thus began...

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"I've heard strange things from one of you,

Hard is the fate of the infirm and poor! “ Pray tell me if you think 'tis true;

Here as I criw'd a inorsel of their bread, " Explain it if you can.

A pamper'd menial drove me from the door “ Such incenise has perfumd my throne !

To seek a shelter in an hunibler shed. “ Such eloquence my heart has won ! Oh take me to your hospitable doom! “I think I guess the hand :

Keen blows the wind, and piercing is the cold! “I know her wit and beauty too,

Short is my passage to the friendly tumb! - But why she sends a pray'r so new, For I am poor, and miserably old. I cannot understand.

Should I reveal the sources of my grief, “ To light some flames, and some revive, If soft humanity e'er touch'd your breast, “ To keep some others just alive,

Your hands would not withhold the kind relief, “. Full oft I am implor'd;

And tears of pity would not be repress’d. “ But, withe peculiar pow'r to plenise, Heaven sends misfortunes ; why should we re“ To supplicate for nought but ease !

pine ? “ 'Tis odd, upon my word!

'Tis Heaven has brought me to the state you see ; “ Tell her, with fruitless care I've sought ; And your condition may be soon like mine, “ And tho' my realms, with wonder fraught,

The Child of Sorrow and of Misery. • In remedies abound,

A little farm was my paternal lot ; “ No grain of cold indifference

Then like the lark ( sprightly hail'd the morn;" is Was ever yet allied to sense

But, ah! oppression forc'd me from my cot'; “ In all nig fairy round.

My cattle died, and blighted was my corn. “ The regions of the sky I'd trace,

My daughter, once the comfort of my age, « I'd ransack ev'ry earthly place,

Lurd by a villain from her native home, Each leaf, each herb, each flow'r, Is cast abandond on the world's wide stage, “ To initigate the pangs of fear,

And doom'd in scanty poverty to roam. Dispel the clouds of black despair, “ Or lull the restless hour.

My tonder wife, sweet soother of my care!

Struck with sad anguish at the stern decree, “ I would be generous as I'm just;

Fell, ling'ring fell, a victim to despair ! “ But I obey, as others mnst,

And left the world to wretchedness and me. “Those laws which fate has made. “ My tiny kingdom how defend,

Pity thc sorrows of a poor

[door, “ And what might be the horrid end,

Whose frembling limbs hare borne him to your « Should man my state invade?

Whose days are dwindlerl to the shortest span; “'T would put your mind into a rage,

Oh give relief and Heaven will bless your store ! " And such unequal war to wage

“ Suits not my regal duty!
I dare not change a first decrée :

S 84. Pollio. En Elegiac Ode; written to the

Wood near R-Castle, 1768. MICKLE. “ She's doom'd to please, nor can be free : “ Such is the lot of Beauty!"

Hæc Jovem sentire, deosque cunctos, This said, he darted o'er the plain,

Spem bonam certamque domum reporto. Hor, And after followed all his train :

The peaceful evening breathes her balmy store, No glimpse of him I find :

The playful school-boys wanton o'er the green, But sure 1 an, shc liule sprite These words, before be took his fight,

Where spreading poplarsshade the cottage-door,

The villagers in rustic joy convene. Imprinted on my inind.

Amid the secret windings of the wood,

With solemn Meditation let me stray; $ 83. The Beggar's Petition. ANON.

This is the hour when to the wise and good Pity the sormws of-a

poor
old man,

The heavenly maid repays the toils of day. Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your The river murmurs, and the breathing gale

dogrej Whose days are : dwindled to the shortest spán; The star of evening glimmers o'er the dale,

Whispers the gently-heaving boughs among: Oh give relief, and Heaven will bless

your store!

And leads the silent host of heaven along. These tatter'd clothes.my poverty bespeak, These hoary locks proclaim any lengthen'd years; How bright, emerging o'er yon broom-clad And many'a furrow in my grief-worn check

height, Has been a channel to a foud of tears.

The silver empress of the night appears ! Yon house erected on the rising ground,

Yon limpid pool reflects a stream of light, With temptiog aspect drew me from my toad :

And fainuy in its breast the woodland Gcars. For Plenty there a residence has found, The waters tuinbling o'er their rocky bed, *AnGrandeur a magnificent abode.

Solenın and constant, from yon dell resound;
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The

old man,

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