cheer

Do thou conduct my fancy's dreams
To fuch indulgent placid themes,
As just the ftruggling breast may
And just fufpend the starting tear,
Yet leave that facred fenfe of woe
Which none but friends and lovers know.

ODE

VII.

ON THE USE OF POETRY.

N

I.

OT for themfelves did human kind
Contrive the parts by heaven affign'd
On life's wide fcene to play:

Not Scipio's force, nor Cæfar's skill
Can conquer glory's arduous hill,
If fortune close the way.

II.

Yet ftill the self-depending foul,
Though laft and least in fortune's roll,
His
proper fphere commands;

And knows what nature's feal beftow'd,
And fees, before the throne of God,

The rank in which he ftands.

III.

Who train'd by laws the future age,
Who refcued nations from the rage

Of partial, factious power,

My

My heart with distant homage views ;
Content if thou, celeftial Mufe,

Didft rule my natal hour.

IV.

Not far beneath the hero's feet,
Nor from the legislator's feat

Stands far remote the bard.

Though not with public terrors crown'd,
Yet wider fhall his rule be found,

More lafting his award..

V.

Lycurgus fashion'd Sparta's fame,
And Pompey to the Roman name
Gave univerfal sway:

Where are they?-Homer's reverend page
Holds empire to the thirtieth age,

And tongues and climes obey.

VI.

And thus when William's acts divine
No longer fhall from Bourbon's line
Draw one vindictive vow;

When Sidney fhall with Cato rest,
And Ruffel move the patriot's breast
No more than Brutus now;

VII.

Yet then fhall Shakespeare's powerful art
O'er every paffion, every heart,

Confirm his awful throne:

Tyrants shall bow before his laws;

And freedom's, glory's, virtue's caufe,

Their dread affertor own.

ODE

O DE

VIII.

ON LEAVING HOLLAND.

I.

I.

F

AREWELL to Leyden's lonely bound,
The Belgian Mufe's fober feat;
Where dealing frugal gifts around
To all the favorites at her feet,
She trains the body's bulky frame
For paffive, perfevering toils;

And left, from any prouder aim,

The daring mind fhould fcorn her homely fpoils, She breathes maternal fogs to damp its reftlefs flame.

I. 2.

Farewell the grave, pacific air,

Where never mountain zephyr blew :

The marthy levels lank and bare,

Which Pan, which Ceres never knew:

The Naiads, with obfcene attire,

Urging in vain their urns to flow;

While round them chaunt the croking choir,
And haply footh fome lover's prudent woe,
Or prompt fome reftive Bard, and modulate his lyre.
I. 3.

Farewell, ye nymphs, whom fober care of gain
Snatch'd in your cradles from the god of love:
She render'd all his boafted arrows vajn;
And all his gifts did he in fpite remove.

P

Ye too, the flow-ey'd fathers of the land,
With whom dominion fteals from hand to hand,
Unown'd, undignify'd by public choice,

I go where liberty to all is known,

And tells a monarch on his throne,

He reigns not but by her preferving voice.

II. I.

my
lov'd England, when with thee
Shall I fit down, to part no more?
Far from this pale, discolor'd sea,
That fleeps upon the reedy fhore,
When shall I plough thy azure tide?
When on thy hills the flocks admire,

Like mountain fnows; till down their fide
I trace the village and the sacred spire,

While bowers and copfes green the golden flope divide ?

II. 2,

Ye nymphs who guard the pathless grove,
Ye blue-ey'd fifters of the streams,

With whom I wont at morn to rove,

With whom at noon I talk'd in dreams;
O! take me to your haunts again,
The rocky fpring, the greenwood glade;
To guide my lonely footsteps deign,

To prompt my flumbers in the murmuring shade, And footh my vacant ear with many an airy strain.

And thou, my faithful harp, no longer mourn
Thy drooping mafter's inaufpicious hand :

Now

Now brighter skies and fresher gales return,
Now fairer maids thy melody demand.
Daughters of Albion, liften to my lyre!
O Phoebus, guardian of the Aonian choir, ̧ ́
Why founds not mine harmonious as thy own,
When all the virgin deities above

With Venus and with Juno move

In concert round the Olympian fathers throne?
III. I.

Thee too, protectrefs of my lays,
Elate with whofe majestic call
Above degenerate Latium's praise,
Above the flavish boaft of Gaul,
I dare from impious thrones reclaim,
And wanton floth's ignoble charms,
The honors of a poet's name

To Somers' counfels, or to Hamden's arms,
Thee, freedom, I rejoin, and blefs thy genuine flame.

III. 2.

Great citizen of Albion! Thee

Heroic valour ftill attends,

And useful fcience pleas'd to fee

How art her ftudious toil extends.
While truth, diffusing from on high
A luftre unconfin'd as day,

Fills and commands the public eye;

Till, pierc'd and finking by her powerful ray,

Tame faith and monkifh awe, like nightly demons, fly.