Thomas.

Le tems f'engloutira comme un foible ruiffeau.
Mais mon ame immortelle, aux fiécles échappée,
Ne fera point frappée,

Et des mondes brifés foulera le tombeau,

Des vaftes mers, grand Dieu, tu fixas les limites; › C'est ainfi que du tems les bornes font préfcrites. Quel fera ce moment de l'éternelle nuit?

Toi feul, tu le connois; tu lui dira d'éclore;
Mais l'Univers lignore;

Ce n'eft qu'en périssant qu'il en doit être instruit,

Shen

Shenstone.

Shenstone.

S. B. I. S. 429. In seinen Oden, die fast alle zu dieser Klasse gehören, vermisst man freilich Lebhaftigkeit des Kolorits, Neuheit der Wendung, und Kühnheit der Züge; nicht aber jene geschmackvolle Eleganz, die ́ allen Arbeiten dieses würdigen Mannes so viel Anmuth ertheilt. Folgende Ode an die Gesundheit schrieb er schon im Jahr 1730; und zwanzig Jahr spåter diejenige, die unter der Aufschrift: Rural Elegance, an die Herzogin von Somerset gerichtet, und wohl von allen die schönste, aber auch die långste ist.

ODE TO HEALTH.

O HEALTH! capricious maid!
Why doft thou fhun my peaceful bow'r,
Where I had hope to fhare thy pow'r,
And bless thy lasting aid?

Since thou, alas! art flown,

It 'vails not whether Mufe or Grace,
With temp'ring fmile, frequent the place;
I figh for thee alone.

Age not forbids thy ftay;

Thou yet might'ft act the friendly part;
Thou yet might'ft raife this languid heart;
Why speed fo fwift away?

Thou fcorn'ft the city-air;

I breathe fresh gales o'er furrow'd ground,
Yet haft not thou my wifhes crown'd,
O falfe, o partial Fair!

I plunge into the wave;

And tho' with pureft hands I raife
A rural altar to thy praise,

Thou wilt not deign to fave.

364

Amid

Shenstone.

Amid my well-known grove,
Where mineral fountains vainly bear
Thy boasted name and titles fair,
Why scorns thy foot to rove?

Thou hear'ft the fportfman's claim,
Enabling him, with idle noife,
To drown the Mufe's melting voice,
And fright the tim'rous game.

Is thought thy foe? Adieu,

Ye midnight lamps! ye curious tomes!
Mine eye o'er hills and vallies roams,
And deals no more with you.

Is it the clime you filee?
Yet 'midft his unremitting fnows
The poor Laponian's bofom glows,
And fhares bright rays from thee.

There was, there was a time,
When tho' I fcorn'd thy guardian care,
Nor made a vow, nor faid a pray'r,
I did not rue the crime.

Who then more blefs'd than I?
When the glad fchoolboy's talk was done,
And forth, with jocund fprite, I run
To freedom and to joy!

How jovial then the day!

What fince have all iny labours found,
Thus climbing life to gaze around,
That can thy lofs repay?

Wert thou, alas! but kind,

Methinks no frown that Fortune wears,
Nor leffen'd hopes nor growing cares,
Could fink my cheerful mind,

Wha

Shenstone.

Whate'er my stars include

What other breasts convert to pain,

My tow'ring mind should foon difdain,
Should fcorn - Ingratitude!

Repair this mould'ring cell,

And blefs'd with objects found at home,
And envying none their fairer dome,
How pleas'd my foul fhould dwell!

Temperance fhould guard the doors;
From room to room should Mem'ry ftray,
And, ranging all in neat array,
Enjoy her pleafing stores -

There let them reft unknown,

The types of many a pleasing scene;
But to preserve them bright or clean,
Is thine, fair Queen! alone.

6 5

Aken

In seinem trefflichen Lehrgedichte über die Ergdgungen der Einbildungskraft (S. B. II. S. 321.) ist weit mehr Poez fie, Wärme und Fülle der Darstellung, als in den zwei Büs chern feiner Oden, deren überhaupt drei und dreißig, alle philosophischer Gattung, find. Nur in wenigen bleibt sich der lyrische Ausdruck so gleich, wie in folgender:

ODE AGAINST SUSPICION.

Oh fly! 'tis dire Sufpicion's mien,

And meditating plagues unfeen

The forc'refs hither bends;

Behold her torch in gall imbru'd,

Behold! her garment droops with blood.
Of lovers and of friends.

Fly far! already in your eyes

I fee a pale fuffufion rife;

And foon thro' ev'ry vein,

Soon will her fecret venom fpread,

And all your heart and all your head

Imbibe the potent stain.

Then many a demon will she raise,
To vex your fleep, to haunt your ways,
While gleams of loft delight

Raife the dark tempeft of the brain,
As lightning fhines across the main
Thro' whirlwinds and thro' night.

No more can Faith or Candour move,

But each ingenuous deed of love,