My heart with distant homage views; Didft rule my natal hour. IV. Not far beneath the hero's feet, Nor from the legiflator's feat Stands far remote the bard. Though not with public terrors crown'd, More lafting his award. V. Lycurgus fashion'd Sparta's fame, Where are they?-Homer's reverend page And tongues and climes obey. VI. And thus when William's acts divine When Sidney fhall with Cato rest, VII. Yet then fhall Shakespeare's powerful art Confirm his awful throne: Tyrants fhall bow before his laws; And freedom's, glory's, virtue's caufe, Their dread affertor own. O DE FAREWELL to Leyden's lonely bound, The Belgian Muse's sober seat ; Where dealing frugal gifts around And left, from any prouder aim, The daring mind fhould fcorn her homely spoils, She breathes maternal fogs to damp its reftlefs flame. 1. 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 obscene attire, Urging in vain their urns to flow; While round them chaunt the croking choir, Farewell, ye nymphs, whom fober care of gain Ye too, the flow-ey'd fathers of the land, And tells a monarch on his throne, II. I. O my lov'd England, when with thee Shall I fit down, to part no more? Far from this pale, difcolor'd fea, 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 facred spire, While bowers and copfes green the golden slope divide? II. 2. Ye nymphs who guard the pathlefs 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; To prompt my flumbers in the murmuring shade, And footh my vacant ear with many an airy strain. II. 3. And thou, my faithful harp, no longer mourn Now Now brighter skies and fresher gales return, In concert round the Olympian fathers throne? Thee too, protectress of my lays, To Somers' counfels, or to Hamden's arms, III. 2. Great citizen of Albion! Thee Heroic valour ftill attends, And ufeful fcience pleas'd to fee How art her ftudious toil extends. A luftre unconfin'd as day, Fills and commands the public eye; Till, pierc'd and finking by her powerful ray, Tame faith and monkish awe, like nightly demons, fly. III. 3. Hence the whole land the patriot's ardour shares : TH HRICE hath the fpring beheld thy faded fame Since I exulting grafp'd the tuneful shell: Eager through endlefs years to found thy name, Proud that my memory with thine fhould dwell. How haft thou ftain'd the fplendor of my choice! Thofe godlike forms which hover'd round thy voice, Laws, freedom, glory, whither are they flown? What can I now of thee to time report, Save thy fond country made thy impious sport, Her fortune and her hope the victims of thy own? II. There [* See the "Epiftle to Curio," in this volume.] |