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And, left thou meet my blafted view,
Hold each ftrange tale devoutly true;
Ne'er be I found, by thee o'er-aw'd,
In that thrice-hallow'd eve abroad,
When ghofts, as cottage-maids believe,
Their pebbled beds permitted leave,
And goblins haunt from fire, or fen,
Or mine, or flood, the walks of men!

O thou whose spirit most poffeft
The facred feat of Shakespear's breast!
By all that from thy prophet broke,
In thy divine emotions spoke!
Hither again thy fury deal,

Teach me but once like him to feel:
His cyprefs wreath my meed decree,
And I, O Fear, will dwell with thee!

ODE

O

ODE TO SIMPLICITY.

Thou by Nature taught,

To breathe her genuine thought,

In numbers warmly pure, and fweetly strong:

Who firft on mountains wild,

In Fancy, loveliest child,

Thy babe, and Pleafure's, nurs'd the powers of fong!

Thou, who with hermit heart

Disdain'ft the wealth of art,

And gauds, and pageant weeds, and trailing pall:

But com'ft a decent maid,

In Attic robe array'd,

O chafte, unboaftful nymph, to thee I call!

By all the honey'd store

On Hybla's thymy shore,

By all her blooms, and mingled murmurs dear,

By her, whofe love-lorn woe,

In evening mufings flow,

Sooth'd fweetly fad Electra's poet's ear:

By

By old Cephifus deep,

Who spread his wavy sweep

In warbled wanderings round thy green retreat,

On whofe enamel'd fide,

When holy Freedom died,

No equal haunt allur'd thy future feet.

O fifter meek of Truth,

To my admiring youth,

Thy fober aid and native charms infuse!

The flowers that fweeteft breathe,

Tho' beauty cull'd the wreath,

Still ask thy hand to range their order'd hues.

While Rome could none efteem,

But virtue's patriot theme,

You lov'd her hills, and led her laureate band:

But ftaid to fing alone

To one diftinguish'd throne,

And turn'd thy face, and fled her alter'd land.

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No more, in hall or bower,

The paffions own thy power,

Love, only love her forceless numbers mean:

For thou haft left her shrine,

Nor olive more, nor vine,

Shall gain thy feet to blefs the fervile scene.

Tho' tafte, tho' genius bless

To fome divine excess,

Faint's the cold work till thou infpire the whole;

What each, what all fupply,

May court, may charm our eye,

Thou, only thou can'ft raise the meeting foul!

Of these let others afk,

To aid fome mighty task,

I only feek to find thy temperate vale:
Where oft my reed might found

To maids and fhepherds round,

And all thy fons, O Nature, learn my tale.

ODI

ODE ON THE POETICAL CHARACTER.

S once, if not with light regard,

As

I read aright that gifted Bard, (Him whofe fchool above the reft

His lovelieft Elfin queen has bleft)
One, only one, unrival'd fair *,
Might hope the magic girdle wear,

At folemn turney hung on high,
The wish of each love-darting eye;

Lo! to each other nymph in turn applied,
As if, in air unfeen, fome hovering hand,
Some chafte and angel-friend to virgin-fame,
With whisper'd spell had burst the starting band,
It left unbleft her loath'd dishonour'd fide;

Happier hopeless fair, if never

Her baffled hand with vain endeavour

Had touch'd that fatal zone to her denied!

*Florimel. See Spenfer Leg. 4th.

D 2

Young

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