And Cassius; Vetus too, and Thrasea, Minds of the antique cast, rough, stubborn souls, Yes, we may meet, ungrateful boy, we may ! Shall from the dust uprear his reverend head, Let majesty sit on thy awful brow, And lighten from thy eye: around thee call In gorgeous phrase of labour'd eloquence To dress thy plea, and Burrhus strengthen it The world, the prize; and fair befall the victors. In threats unexecuted? Haste thee, fly ACER. 'Tis time to go, the sun is high advanc'd, And, ere mid-day, Nero will come to Baiæ. AGRIP. My thought aches at him; not the basilisk More deadly to the sight, than is to me The cool injurious eye of frozen kindness. I will not meet its poison. Let him feel But not to Antium-all shall be confess'd, Whate'er the frivolous tongue of giddy fame Has spread among the crowd; things, that but whisper'd And you, ye manes of ambition's victims, hear, In lieu of penitence, and vain remorse, [Exeunt. G 2 HYMN TO IGNORANCE. A FRAGMENT. HAIL, Horrors, hail! ye ever gloomy bowers, Oh take me to thy peaceful shade again. But chiefly thee, whose influence, breath'd from high, Augments the native darkness of the sky; Ah Ignorance! soft salutary power! Prostrate with filial reverence I adore. Thrice hath Hyperion roll'd his annual race, Since weeping I forsook thy fond embrace. Oh say, successful dost thou still oppose Thy leaden Ægis 'gainst our ancient foes? Still stretch, tenacious of thy right divine, The massy sceptre o'er thy slumb'ring line? And dews Lethean through the land dispense To steep in slumbers each benighted sense? If any spark of wit's delusive ray Break out, and flash a momentary day. With damp, cold touch forbid it to aspire, And huddle up in fogs the dangerous fire. Oh say-she hears me not, but careless grown, Lethargic nods upon her ebon throne. Goddess! awake, arise! alas my fears! Can powers immortal feel the force of years? Not thus of old, with ensigns wide unfurl❜d, She rode triumphant o'er the vanquish'd world; Fierce nations own'd her unresisted might, And all was ignorance, and all was night. Oh sacred age! Oh times for ever lost! (The schoolman's glory, and the churchman's boast.) For ever gone-yet still to Fancy new, Her rapid wings the transient scene pursue, And bring the buried ages back to view. High on her car, behold the grandam ride, Like old Sesostris, with barbaric pride; a team of harness'd monarchs bend |