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Gray.

Clos'd his eyes in endless night.

Behold where Dryden's lefs prefumptuous car,
Wide o'er the fields of Glory bear

Two Courfers of ethereal race,

With necks in thunder cloath'd, and long refounding pace.

III. 3.

Hark, his hands the lyre explore!

Bright-eyed Fancy hovering o'er

Scatters from her pictur'd urn

Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.

But ah! 'tis heard no more

Oh! Lyre divine, what daring spirit

Wakes thee now? tho' he inherit

Nor the pride, nor ample pinion
That the Theban Eagle bear
Sailing with fupreme dominion
Thro' the azure deep of air:

Yet oft before his infant eyes would run

Such forms, as glitter in the Mufe's ray
With orient hues, unborrow'd of the fun:

Yet fhall he mount, and keep his distant way

Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate,

Beneath the Good how far-but far above the Great.

Ma

Mason.

Mason.

Ich theile hier noch die neueste Ode dieses schon oben (B. III. S. 169 ff.) vorgekommenen Dichters mit. Sie wurz de durch die im vorigen Jahre an mehrern Orten in England sehr feierlich begangne hundertjährige Gedächtnißfeier der bekannten großen Revolution veranlasst; und hat, bei manchen Schönheiten, besonders der lezten Strophen, doch wohl den hohen Grad der lyrischen Begeisterung nicht, den dieser Gegenstand erwecken und rechtfertigen konnte. Noch weniger ift dies der Fall in den Occafional Stanzas, die Herr hayley bei eben dieser Gelegenheit, auf Verlangen der Revolution-Society schrieb, und bei ihrer Sekularfeier recitirte. Beide Oden sind im vorigen Jahre zu London einzeln, und sehr ansehnlich, gedruckt worden.

ODE

IN COMMEMORATION OF THE GLO-
RIOUS REVOLUTION,

MDC, LXXXVIII,

It is not Age, creative Fancy's foe,
Foe to the finer feelings of the foul,
Shall dare forbid the lyric rapture flow,
Scorning its chill controul.

He, at the vernal morn of youth,
Who breath'd, to liberty and truth,
Fresh incenfe from his votive lyre,

In live's autumnal eve, again

Shall, at their fhrine, refume the ftrain,

And fweep the veteran chords with renovated fire.

Warm to his own, and to his country's breaft,
Twice fifty brilliant years the theme have borne,
And each, through all its varying seasons, biest
By that aufpicious morn,

Mason.

Which gilding Naffau's patriot prow,
Gave Britain's anxious eye to know

The fource whence now her bleffings spring;
She faw him from that prow defcend,

And in the hero hail'd the friend;

A name, when Britain fpeaks, that dignifies her
King.

In folemn ftate fhe led him to the throne,
Whence bigot zeal and lawless power had fled,
Where juftice fix'd the abdicated crown

On his victorious head.
Was there an angel in the fky,

That glow'd not with celestial joy,

When Freedom, in her native charms
Defcended from her throne of light,
On eagle plumes, to blefs the rite,
Recall'd by Britain's voice, reftor'd by Naffau's

arms!

Since then, triumphant on the car of Time,
The fifter Years in gradual train have roll'd,
And feen the Goddefs from her fphere fublime,
The facred page unfold,

Infcrib'd by her's and Naffau's hands,
On which the hallow'd Charter stands,
That bids Britannia's fons be free;

And, as they gais'd, each white rob'd year
Has fung to her responsive sphere,

Hail to the charter'd rights of British Liberty!

Still louder lift the foul-expanding strain,

Ye future years! while, from her ftarry thro

ne,

Again fhe comes to magnify her reign,
And make the world her own.
Her fire e'en France prefumes to feel,
And half unfheaths the patriot steel,

Enough the monarch to difmay,
Whoe'er, with rebel pride, withdraws

His own allegiance from the laws

That guard the People's rights, that reign the Sovereign's fway.

Hark! how from either India's fultry bound,
From regions girded by the burning Zone,
Her all attentive ear, with figh profound,
Has heard the captive moan;

Has heard, and ardent in the cause
Of all, that, free by Nature's laws,

The avarice of her fons enthralls;
She comes, by truth and mercy led,
And, bending her benignant head,

Thus on the feraph pair in fuppliant trains fhe calls:

„Long have I lent to my Britannia's hands
That trident which controuls the willing fea,
And bade her circulate to diftant lands

Each blifs deriv'd from me.

Shall then her Commerce spread the fail
For gain accurs'd, and court the gale,

Her throne, her fov'reign to dilgrace;
Daring (what will not Commerce dare!)
Beyond the ruthless wafte of war,

To deal destruction, and thin the human race?

Proclaim it not before th' eternal throne

Of Him, the fire of univerfal love;

But wait till all my fons

your

Ye envoys from above!

influence own,

O wait, at this precarious hour,

When, in the pendent fcale of power
My rights and Nature's trembling lye;
Do thou, fweet Mercy! touch the beam,
Till lightly, as the feather'd dream
Afcends the earthly dross of selfish policy.

Do thou, fair Truth! as did thy Mafter mild,
Who, fill'd with all the power of Godhead,

Mason.

Mason.

To purify the fouls, by guilt defil'd,

With Faith's celeftial flame;

Tell them, 'tis Heaven's benign decree
That all, of Christian liberty

The peace-inspiring gale fhould breathe;
May then that nation hope to claim

The glory of the Christian name,

That loads fraternal tribes with bondage worse than death?

„Tell them, they vainly grace, with feftive joy,
The day that freed them from Oppreffion's rod,
At Slavery's mart who barter, and who buy
The image of their God.

But peace! their confcience feels the wrong;
From Britain's congregated tongue

Repentant breaks the choral lay:
Not unto us, indulgent Heav'n,
"In partial stream, be Freedom given;
"But pour her treafures wide, and guard with legal
fway!

Cra