This hive of science, fhedding fweets divine,
Of active arts, and animated arms.
There, paffionate for Me, an easy-mov'd,
A quick, refin'd, a delicate, humane,
Enlighten'd people reign'd. Oft on the brink
Of ruin, hurry'd by the charm of speech,
Inforcing hafty counfel immature,
Totter'd the rafh democracy; unpois'd,
And by the rage devour'd, that ever tears
A populace unequal; part too rich,
And part or fierce with want or abje& grown.
Solon, at laft, their mild reftorer, rofe:
Allay'd the tempeft; to the calm of laws
Reduc'd the fettling whole; and, with the weight
Which the two fenates to the public lent,
As with an anchor fix'd the driving state.
Nor was my forming care to these confin'd.
For emulation through the whole I pour'd,
Noble contention! who fhould moft excel
In government well-pois'd, adjusted beft
To public weal: in countries cultur'd high :
In ornamented towns, where order reigns,
Free focial life, and polish'd manners fair:
In exercife, and arms; arms only drawn
For common Greece, to quell the Persian pride :
In moral fcience, and in graceful arts.
Hence, as for glory peacefully they strove,
The prize grew greater, and the prize of all.
By contest brighten'd, hence the radiant youth
Pour'd every beam; by generous pride inflam'd,
Felt every ardour burn: their great reward
The verdant wreathe, which founding Pifa gave.
Hence flourish'd Greece; and hence a race of men,
As gods by conscious future times ador'd:
In whom each virtue wore a finiling air,
Each science shed o'er life a friendly light,
Each art was nature. Spartan valour hence,
At the fam'd pafs, firm as an ifthmus stood;
And the whole caftern ocean, waving far
As eye could dart it's vifion, nobly check'd
While in extended battle, at the field
Of Marathon, my keen Athenians drove
Before their ardent band, an host of slaves.
Hence through the continent ten thousand Greeks
Urg'd a retreat, whofe glory not the prime
Of victories can reach. Deferts, in vain,
Oppos'd their course; and hoftile lands, unknown;
And deep rapacious floods, dire-bank'd with death;
And mountains, in whose jaws deftruction grin'd
Hunger, and toil; Armenian fnows, and ftorms;
And circling myriads ftill of barbarous foes.
Greece in their view, and glory yet untouch'd,
Their fteady column pierc'd the scattering herds,
Which a whole empire pour'd; and held its way
Triumphant, by the Sage-exalted Chief
Fir'd and fuftain'd. Oh, light and force of mind,
Almost almighty in fevere extremes !
The fea at laft from Colchian mountains seen,
Kind-hearted transport round their captains threw
The foldiers fond embrace; o'erflow'd their eyes
With tender floods, and loos'd the general voice
To cries refounding loud-The fea! the fea!
In Attic bounds hence heroes, fages, wits,
Shone thick as stars, the milky way of Greece!
And though gay wit, and pleafing grace, was theirs,
All the foft modes of elegance and ease;
Yet was not courage less, the patient touch
Of toiling art, and difquifition deep.
My Spirit pours a vigour through the foul
Th' unfetter'd thought with energy inspires,
Invincible in arts, in the bright field
Of nobler science, as in that of arms.
Athenians thus not lefs intrepid burst
The bonds of tyrant darkness, than they spurn'd
The Perfian chains: while through the city, full
Of mirthful quarrel and of witty war,
Inceffant ftruggled tafte refining taste,
And friendly free difcuffion, calling forth
From the fair jewel Truth its latent ray.
O'er all fhone out the great Athenian Sage,
And father of philofophy: the fun,
From whose white blaze emerg'd each various fect
Took various tints, but with diminish'd beam.
Tutor of Athens! he, in every street,
Dealt priceless treafure: goodness his delight,
Wisdom his wealth, and glory his reward.
Deep through the human heart, with playful art,
His fimple queftion stole: as into truth,
And ferious deeds, he fmil'd the laughing race;
Taught moral happy life, whate'er can blefs,
Or grace mankind; and what he taught he was.
Compounded high, though plain, his doctrine broke
In different fchools. The bold poetic phrafe
Of figur'd Plato; Xenophon's pure ftrain,
Like the clear brook that fteals along the vale;
Diffecting truth, the Stagyrite's keen eye;
Th' exalted Stoic pride; the Cynic fneer;
The flow-confenting Academic doubt;
And, joining bliss to virtue, the glad ease
Of Epicurus, feldom understood.
They, ever-candid, reafon ftill oppos'd
To reafon; and, fince virtue was their aim,
Each by fure practice try'd to prove his way
The beft. Then flood untouch'd the folid bafe
Of Liberty, the liberty of mind:
For fyftems yet, and foul-enflaving creeds,
Slept with the monsters of fucceeding times.
From prieftly darkness fprung th' enlightening arts 250
Of fire, and fword, and rage, and horrid names.
O, Greece! thou fapient nurfe of Finer Arts!
Which to bright fcience blooming fancy bore,
Be this thy praise, that Thou, and Thou alone,
In these haft led the way, in thefe excell'd,
Crown'd with the laurel of affenting time.
In thy full language, fpeaking mighty things;
Like a clear torrent clofe, or else diffus'd
A broad majestic ftream, and rolling on
Through all the winding harmony of found:
In it the power of Eloquence, at large,
Breath'd the perfuafive or pathetic foul;
Still'd by degrees the democratic storm,
Or bade it threatening rife, and tyrants fhook,
Flush'd at the head of their victorious troops.
In it the Muse, her fury never quench'd,
By mean unyielding phrase, or jarring found,
Her unconfin'd divinity display'd;
And, ftill harmonious, form'd it to her will:
Or foft deprefs'd it to the fhepherd's moan,
Or rais'd it fwelling to the tongue of gods.
Heroic fong was thine; the Fountain-Bard,
Whence each poetic stream derives its course.
Thine the dread moral fcene, thy chief delight!
Where idle Fancy durst not mix her voice,
When Reason spoke auguft; the fervent heart
Or plain'd, or storm'd; and in th' impaffion'd man,
Concealing art with art, the poet funk.
This potent school of manners, but when left
To loofe neglect, a land-corrupting plague,
Was not unworthy deem'd of public care,
And boundless coft, by thee; whofe every
Ev'n laft mechanic, the true tafte poffefs'd
Of what had flavour to the nourish'd foul.
The sweet enforcer of the poet's strain,
Thine was the meaning mufic of the heart.
Not the vain trill, that, void of paffion, runs
In giddy mazes, tickling idle ears;
But that deep-fearching voice, and artful hand,
To which refpondent shakes the varied soul.
Thy fair ideas, thy delightful forms, By Love imagin'd, by the Graces touch'd,
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