Графични страници
PDF файл
ePub

IV.

If then, from love's deceit fecure,
Thus far alone thy wishes tend,
Go; fee the white-wing'd evening hour
On Delia's vernal walk defcend:
Go, while the golden light ferene,
The grove, the lawn, the foften'd scene,
Becomes the presence of the rural queen.

V.

Attend, while that harmonious tongue
Each bofom, each defire commands:
Apollo's lute by Hermes ftrung

And touch'd by chafte Minerva's hands,
Attend. I feel a force divine,

O Delia, win my thoughts to thine;
That half the color of thy life is mine.

VI.

Yet, confcious of the dangerous charm,
Soon would I turn my steps away;

Nor oft provoke the lovely harm,
Nor lull my reason's watchful sway.

But thou, my friend-I hear thy fighs:

Alas, I read thy downcaft eyes;

And thy tongue falters; and thy color flies.

[blocks in formation]

In

In vain with friendship's flattering name Thy paffion veils its inward shame; Friendship, the treacherous fuel of thy flame!

VIII.

Once I remember, new to love,
And dreading his tyrannic chain,
I fought a gentle maid, to prove
What peaceful joys in friendfhip reign:
Whence we forfooth might fafely stand,
And pitying view the love-fick band,
And mock the winged boy's malicious hand.

IX.

Thus frequent pafs'd the cloudless day,
To fmiles and fweet difcourfe refign'd;
While I exulted to furvey

One generous woman's real mind :

Till friendship foon my languid breast

Each night with unknown cares poffefs'd,

[ocr errors]

Dash'd my coy flumbers, or my dreams distress'd.

Fool that I was!

X.

And now, even now

While thus I preach the Stoic ftrain,
Unless I fhun Olympia's view,

An hour unfays it all again.

O friend!-when love directs her eyes
To pierce where every paffion lies,

Where is the firm, the cautious, or the wife?

ODE

ODE XII.

To SIR FRANCIS HENRY DRAKE, BARONET.

I.

EHOLD; the balance in the sky

BE

Swift on the wintery scale inclines :

To earthy caves the Dryads fly,
And the bare paftures Pan refigns.
Late did the farmer's fork o'erfpread
With recent foil the twice-mown mead,
Tainting the bloom which autumn knows :
He whets the rufty coulter now,

He binds his oxen to the plough,

And wide his future harvest throws.

II.

Now, London's bufy confines round,
By Kensington's imperial towers,
From Highgate's rough defcent profound,
Effexian heaths, or Kentish bowers,
Where'er I pafs, I fee approach
Some rural statefman's eager coach
Hurried by fenatorial cares :
Where rural nymphs (alike within,
Afpiring courtly praise to win)
Debate their drefs, reform their airs.

III. Say,

III.

Say, what can now the country boast,
O Drake, thy footsteps to detain,
When peevish winds and gloomy frost
The funshine of the temper stain ?
Say, are the priests of Devon grown
Friends to this tolerating throne,
Champions for George's legal right?
Have general freedom, equal law,
Won to the glory of Nassau

Each bold Weffexian fquire and knight?

IV.

I doubt it much; and guess at least
That when the day, which made us free,
Shall next return, that facred feaft
Thou better may'st observe with me.
With me the fulphurous treason old
A far inferior part shall hold
In that glad day's triumphal strain;
And generous William be rever'd,
Nor one untimely accent heard
Of James or his ignoble reign.

V.

Then, while the Gafcon's fragrant wine
With modeft cups our joy fupplies,
We'll truly thank the power divine
Who bade the chief, the patriot rise;
Rife from heroic ease (the spoil
Due, for his youth's Herculean toil,

From

From Belgium to her favior fon)

Rife with the fame unconquer'd zeal

For our Britannia's injur’d weal,

Her laws defac'd, her fhrines o'erthrown.

VI.

He came. The tyrant from our shore,
Like a forbidden demon, fled;

And to eternal exile bore

Pontific rage and vassal dread.

There funk the mouldering Gothic reign:
New years came forth, a liberal train,
Call'd by the people's great decree.
That day, my friend, let bleffings crown:
-Fill, to the demigod's renown

From whom thou haft that thou art free.

VII.

Then, Drake, (for wherefore should we part

The public and the private weal ?)

In vows to her who sways thy heart,

Fair health, glad fortune, will we deal.
Whether Aglaia's blooming cheek,
Or the foft ornaments that speak
So eloquent in Daphne's fmile,
Whether the piercing lights that fly
From the dark heaven of Myrto's eye,
Haply thy fancy then beguile.

VIII. For

« ПредишнаНапред »