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The painful family of Death,
Thou tamer of the human breast,
When first thy fire to send on earth
25 Immers d in rapt'rous thought profound, And Melancholy, silent maid, With leaden eye, that loves the ground, Still on thy folemn steps attend; Warm Charity, the gen'ral friend,
30 With Justice, to herself severe, And Pity, dropping soft the sadly-pleasing tear. Oh! gently on thy suppliant's head, Dread goddess! lay thy chastning hand, Not in thy Gorgon terrors clad,
35. Nor circled with the vengeful band: (As by the impious thou art feen,) With thund'ring voice and threat'ning mien,
With screaming Horror's fun'ral cry,
THE PROGRESS OF POESY.
When the Author first published this and the follow
ing Ode, he was advised, even by his friends, to fubjoin some few explanatory Notes, but had too much respect for the Understanding of his Readers to take that Liberty.
AWAKE, Æolian lyre! awake,"
And give to rapture all thy trembling strings ; From Helicon's harmonious springs A thousand rills their mazy progress take ;
* Awake, my glory! awake, lute and harp.
David's Psalms, Pindar styles his own poetry, with it's musical ac. companiments, Æolian fong, Æolian strings, the breath of the Eolian Aute. The subject and fimile,
The laughing flow'rs, that round them blow, 5
Oh! Sov’reignt of the willing soul,
as usual with Pindar, are here united. The various fources of poetry, which gives life and lustre to all it touches, are here described, as well in it's quiet majeftic progress, enriching every subject (otherwise dry and barren) with all the pomp of diction, and luxuriant harmony of numbers, as in it's more rapid and irresistible course, when swollen and hurried away by the conflict of tumultuous paffions
+ Power of harmony to calm the turbulent passions of the soul. The thoughts are borrowed from the first Pythian of Pindar.
# This is a weak imitation of some beautiful lines in the same ode.
Quench'd in dark clouds of slumber lie
1. 3. Thee f the voice, the dance obey,
25 Temper'd to thy warbled lay: O’er Idalia's velvet green The rosy-crowned Loves are feen, On Cytherea's day, With antic Sports and blue-ey'd Pleasures Frisking light in frolic measures : Now pursuing, now retreating, Now in circling troops they meet ; To brikk notes in cadence beating Glance their many-twinkling feet.
35 Slow-melting strains their queen's approach declare; Where'er she turns the Graces homage pay: With arms sublime, that float upon the air, In gliding state she wins her easy way: O’er her warın cheek and rising bosom move The bloom of young desire and purple light of love.
Man's feeble race what ills await!
# Power of harmony to produce all the graces of motion in the body.
T To compensate the real or imaginary ills of life, the Muse was given to mankind by the fame Provi. dence that sends the day by it's chearful presence to dispel the gloom and terrors of the night.