Sayfadaki görseller

Then with a momentary swift Decay
Thy Pride, thy darling Hope, was snatch'd away.
So by the Course of the revolving Spheres,
Whene'er a new-discover'd Star appears,
Astronomers with Pleasure and Amaze
Upon the Infant Luminary gaze.
They find their Heav'n enlarg'd, and wait from thence
Some blest, some more than common Influence;
But suddenly, alas ! the fleeting Light
Retiring leaves their Hopes involv'd in endless Night.

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N CHAM's fair Banks, where Learning's hal

low'd Fane Majestic rifes on th'astonish'd Sight, Where oft the Muse has led the favourite Swain,

And warm'd his Soul with Heav'n's inspiring Light,

Beneath the Covert of the Sylvan Shade,

Where deadly Cypress, mix'd with mournful Yew, Far o'er the Vale a gloomy Stillness spread, Celestial GENIUS burst upon

the View.

The Bloom of Youth, the Majesty of Years,

The soften'd Aspect, innocent and kind,
The Sigh of Sorrow, and the streaming Tears,

Resistless all, their various Pow'r combin'd.

In her fair Hand a silver Harp she bore,

Who's magic Notes, soft-warbling from the String, Give tranquil Joys the Breast ne'er knew before,

Or raise the Soul on Rapture's airy Wing. By Grief impellid, I heard her heave a Sigh, While thus the rapid Strain resounded thro' the Sky, 4


Hafte ye Sister Powers of Song,

Haften from the shady Grove,
Where the River rolls along,

Sweetly to the Voice of Love.
Where, indulging mirthful Pleasures,

Light you press the flow'ry Green,
And from Flora's blooming Treasures,

Cull the Wreath for Fancy's Queen :

Where your gently-flowing Numbers,

Floating on the fragrant Breeze,
Sink the Soul in pleasing Slumbers,

On the downy Bed of Ease.

For graver Strains prepare the plaintive Lyre,

That wakes the softest Feelings of the Soul, Let lonely Grief the melting Verse inspire,

Let deep'ning Sorrow's folemn Accents roll.

Rack'd by the Hand of rude Disease,

Behold our fav'rite Poet lies,
While every Object form’d to please,

Far from his Couch, ungrateful fies.

The blissful Muse, whose favouring Smile,

So lately warm'd his peaceful Breast,
Diffusing heavenly Joys the while,

In Transport's radiant Garments drest,
With darksome Grandeur and enfeeblid Blaze,
Sinks in the Shades of Night, and shuns his eager Gaze.

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The gaudy Train, who wait on SPRING *

Ting'd with the Pomp of vernal Pride,
The Youth who mount on Pleasure's Wing t,

And idly sport on THAMES's Side,

Ode on SPRING. Ode on the Prospect of ETON COLLEGE.


With cool Regard their various Arts employ,
Nor rouse the drooping Mind, nor give the Pause of Joy.

Ha! what Forms with Port sublime I,

Glide along in sullen Mood,
Scorning all the Threats of Time,

High above Misfortune's Flood.

They feize their Harps, they strike the Lyre,
With rapid Hand, with Freedom's Fire.
Obedient Nature hears the lofty Sound,
And SNOWDON's airy Cliffs the heavenly Strains re-


In Pomp of State, behold they wait,

With Arms outstretch'd, and Aspects kind, To snatch on high to yonder Sky,

The Child of Fancy left behind : Forgot the Woes of CAMBRIA's fatal Day, By Rapture’s Blazeimpell’d, they swell the artless Lay.

But ah in vain they strive to sooth,

With gentle Arts, the tort'ring Hour,
ADVERSITY, * with rankling Tooth,

Her baleful Gifts profusely pours.
Behold she comes, the Fiend forlorn,

Array'd in Horror's settled Gloom,
She strews the Briar and prickly Thorn,

And triumphs in th' infernal Doom:
With frantic Fury and insatiate Rage,
She gnaws the throbbing Breast, and blasts the glow-

ing Page.

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No more the soft EOLIAN Flute 1,

Breaths through the Heart the melting Strain, The Powers of Harmony are mute,

And leave the once-delightful Plain ; With heavy Wing I see them beat the Air, Damp'd by the leaden Hand of comfortless Despair,

Yet stay, O! stay celestial Pow'rs,

And with a Hand of kind Regard,
Dispel the boilt'rous Storm that lours

Destructive on the fav'rite Bard;
O watch with me his last expiring Breath,
And snatch him from the Arms of dark oblivious Death.

Hark the FATAL SISTERS join S,

And with Horror's mutt'ring Sounds,
Weave the Tiffue of his Line,

While the dreadful Spell resounds,

“ Hail ye Midnight Sisters, hail,

“ Drive the Shuttle swift along, " Let our secret Charms prevail,

“ O'er the Valiant and the Strong.

6. O'er the Glory of the Land,

“ O'er the Innocent and Gay, « O’er the Muses tuneful Band,

Weave the fun'ral Web of GRAY."

'Tis done, 'tis done—the iron Hand of Pain,

With ruthless Fury and corrosive Force, Racks every Joint, and seizes every Vein,

He sinks, he groans, he falls a lifeless Corse.

I The PROGRESS of an Ode.




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