X.

But England's fons, to purchase thence applause,
Shall ne'er the loyalty of flaves pretend,

By courtly paffions try the public cause;
Nor to the forms of rule betray the end.
O race erect! by manlieft paffions mov'd,
The labors which to virtue ftand approv'd,
Prompt with a lover's fondness to survey;
Yet, where injuftice works her wilful claim,
Fierce as the flight of Jove's deftroying flame,
Impatient to confront, and dreadful to repay.

XI.

These thy heart owns no longer. In their room
See the grave queen of pageants, Honor, dwell
Couch'd in thy bofom's deep tempeftuous gloom
Like fome grim idol in a forcerer's cell..
Before her rites thy fickening reason flew,
Divine perfuafion from thy tongue withdrew,
While laughter mock'd, or pity stole a figh:
Can wit her tender movements rightly frame
Where the prime function of the foul is lame?
Can fancy's feeble springs the force of truth supply?
XII.

But come: 'tis time: ftrong destiny impends
To fhut thee from the joys thou haft betray'd:
With princes fill'd, the folemn fane afcends,
By Infamy, the mindful demon fway'd.
There vengeful vows for guardian laws effac'd,
From nations fetter'd, and from towns laid waste,

For

For ever through the fpacious courts refound:
There long pofterity's united groan

And the fad charge of horrors not their own, Affail the giant chiefs, and prefs them to the ground.

XIII.

In fight old Time, imperious judge, awaits:
Above revenge, or fear, or pity, just,

He urgeth onward to thofe guilty gates

The Great, the Sage, the Happy, and August. And still he asks them of the hidden plan Whence every treaty, every war began, Evolves their fecrets and their guilt proclaims: And still his hands defpoil them on the road Of each vain wreath by lying Bards bestow'd, And crush their trophies huge, and rafe their fculptur'd names.

XIV.

Ye mighty fhades, arife, give place, attend:
Here his eternal manfion Curio feeks:

-Low doth proud Wentworth to the stranger bend,
And his dire welcome hardy Clifford speaks :
“He comes, whom Fate with furer arts prepar'd
"To accomplish all which we but vainly dar'd :
"Whom o'er the stubborn herd fhe taught to reign:
"Who footh'd with gaudy dreams their raging power
"Even to its laft irrevocable hour;

"Then baffled their rude strength, and broke them

"to the chain."

XV. But

XV.

But ye, whom yet wife Liberty infpires,
Whom for her champions o'er the world fhe claims,
(That household godhead whom of old your fires
Sought in the woods of Elbe, and bore to Thames}
Drive ye this hoftile omen far away;

Their own fell efforts on her foes repay;

Your wealth, your arts, your fame, be her's alone:
Still gird your fwords to combat on her fide;
Still frame your laws her generous teft to abide;
And win to her defence the altar and the throne.
XVI.

Protect her from yourselves, ere yet the flood
Of golden luxury, which commerce pours,
Hath spread that selfish fierceness through your blood,
Which not her lightest discipline indures :
Snatch from fantastic demagogues her caufe:
Dream not of Numa's manners, Plato's laws:
A wifer founder, and a nobler plan,

O fons of Alfred, were for you affign'd:
Bring to that birthright but an equal mind,
And no fublimer lot will fate referve for man.

Q

UEEN of my fongs, harmonious maid,

Ah why haft thou withdrawn thy aid?

Ah why forfaken thus my breast

With inaufpicious damps opprefs'd?

Where

Where is the dread prophetic heat,
With which my bofom wont to beat?
Where all the bright myfterious dreams
Of haunted groves and tuneful streams,
That woo'd my genius to divineft themes?

II.

Say, goddefs, can the feftal board,
Or young Olympia's form ador'd;
Say, can the pomp of promis'd fame
Relume thy faint, thy dying flame ?
Or have melodious airs the power
To give one free, poetic hour?
Or, from amid the Elyfian train,
The foul of Milton fhall I gain,

To win thee back with fome celeftial ftrain?

III.

O powerful strain! O facred foul!
His numbers every fenfe control:
And now again my bofom burns;
The Mufe, the Mufe herfelf, returns.
Such on the banks of Tyne, confefs'd,
I hail'd the fair immortal guest,
When first fhe feal'd me for her own,
Made all her blissful treafures known,
And bade me fwear to follow Her alone.

ODE

O DE

XI.

ON LOVE. To a FRIEND.

I.

No, foolish youth-To virtuous fame

If now thy early hopes be vow'd,

If true ambition's nobler flame Command thy footsteps from the croud, Lean not to Love's inchanting fnare ; His fongs, his words, his looks beware, Nor join his votaries, the young and fair.

II.

By thought, by dangers, and by toils,
The wreath of just renown is worn ;
Nor will ambition's awful spoils
The flowery pomp of ease adorn :

But love unbends the force of thought;
By love unmanly fears are taught;
And love's reward with gaudy floth is bought..

III.

Yet thou haft read in tuneful lays,

And heard from many a zealous breast,
The pleafing tale of Beauty's praise
In Wisdom's lofty language drefs'd;
Of Beauty powerful to impart

Each finer fenfe,' each comelier art,

And footh and polish man's ungentle heart.