While Spring shall pour his show'rs, as oft he wont, While sallow Autumn fills thy lap with leaves; And rudely rends thy robes; So long, sure-found beneath the sylvan shed, Shall Fancy, Friendship, Science, rose-lipped Health, Thy gentlest influence own, And hymn thy fav'rite name! THE PASSIONS AN ODE FOR MUSIC When Music, heav'nly maid, was young, 1746. 45 50 5 ΙΟ Next Anger rushed: his eyes, on fire, In lightnings owned his secret stings; And swept with hurried hand the strings. With woful measures wan Despair Low, sullen sounds his grief beguiled; 'T was sad by fits, by starts 't was wild. But thou, O Hope, with eyes so fair, What was thy delightful measure? A soft responsive voice was heard at ev'ry close, And Hope, enchanted, smiled, and waved her golden hair. 25 330 35 And longer had she sung-but with a frown 40 He threw his blood-stained sword in thunder down, And though sometimes, each dreary pause between, Her soul-subduing voice applied, 50 Yet still he kept his wild unaltered mien, While each strained ball of sight seemed bursting from his head. Thy numbers, Jealousy, to naught were fixed, Of diff'ring themes the veering song was mixed, 55 65 Or o'er some haunted stream, with fond delay, Round an holy calm diffusing, Love of peace and lonely musing, In hollow murmurs died away. But O how altered was its sprightlier tone, 70 The hunter's call, to faun and dryad known! The oak-crowned sisters, and their chaste-eyed queen, 75 Satyrs, and sylvan boys, were seen, Peeping from forth their alleys green; Brown Exercise rejoiced to hear; And Sport leapt up, and seized his beechen spear. They would have thought, who heard the strain, 85 They saw in Tempe's vale her native maids, To some unwearied minstrel dancing, Love framed with Mirth a gay fantastic round; As if he would the charming air repay, 90 O Music! sphere-descended maid! Thy humblest reed could more prevail, Than all which charms this laggard age, AN ODE ON THE POPULAR SUPERSTITIONS OF THE HIGHLANDS OF SCOTLAND CONSIDERED AS THE SUBJECT OF POETRY I H, thou return'st from Thames, whose naiads long Have seen thee ling'ring, with a fond delay, 'Mid those soft friends whose hearts, some future day, Shall melt, perhaps, to hear thy tragic song. Go, not unmindful of that cordial youth Whom, long endeared, thou leav'st by Lavant's side; Together let us wish him lasting truth, And joy untainted, with his destined bride. Go! nor regardless, while these numbers boast 5 My short-lived bliss, forget my social name, II There must thou wake perforce thy Doric quill: While airy minstrels warble jocund notes. How, winged with fate, their elf-shot arrows fly, When the sick ewe her summer food foregoes, ΙΟ 15 20 25 Or, stretched on earth, the heart-smit heifers lie. Such airy beings awe th' untutored swain, 30 Nor thou, though learn'd, his homelier thoughts neglect; Let thy sweet Muse the rural faith sustain: These are the themes of simple, sure effect, That add new conquests to her boundless reign, And fill, with double force, her heart-commanding strain. 35 III Ev'n yet preserved, how often may'st thou hear, Strange lays, whose pow'r had charmed a Spenser's ear. At ev'ry pause, before thy mind possest, 40 Old runic bards shall seem to rise around, With uncouth lyres, in many-coloured vest, Their matted hair with boughs fantastic crowned: Whether thou bid'st the well-taught hind repeat The choral dirge that mourns some chieftain brave, 45 |