ODE TO SIMPLICITY. THOU by Nature taught, To breathe her genuine thought, In numbers warmly pure, and fweetly ftrong: Who first on mountains wild, In Fancy, loveliest child, Thy babe, and Pleasure's, nurs'd the powers of fong! Thou, who with hermit heart Difdain'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 honney'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 sweetly fad Electra's poet's ear: By old Cephifus deep, Who fpread 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 aids and native charms infuse! Tho' beauty cull'd the wreath, Still ask thy hand to range their order'd hues. While Rome could none esteem, But virtue's patriot theme, You lov'd her hills, and led her laureat band: But staid to fing alone To one distinguish'd throne, And turn'd thy face, and fled her alter'd land. No more, in hall or bower, Love, only love her forceless numbers mean: For thou haft left her shrine, Nor olive more, nor vine, Shall gain thy feet to blifs the fertile scene. Tho' tafte, tho' genius blefs To fome divine excess, E Faints the cold work till thou infpire the whole; What each, what all fupply, May court, may charm our eye, Thou, only thou can't raise the meeting foul! Of these let others afk, To aid fome mighty task, I only feek to find thy temperate vale: To maids and fhepherds round, And all thy fons, O Nature! learn my tale. ODE ON THE POETICAL CHARACTER. S once, if not with light regard, A read aright that gifted Bard, (Him whose school above the rest Lo! to each other nymph in turn applied, Her baffled hand with vain endeavour To whom, prepar'd and bath'd in heaven, To gird their bleft prophetic loins, And gaze her vifions wild, and feel unmix'd her flame. * Florimel. See Spenser Leg. 4th. The band, as fairy legends fay, Was wove on that creating day, 、 When he, who call'd with thought to birth And drest with springs, and forests tall, And plac'd her on his faphire throne, And thou, thou rich-hair'd youth of morn, ; |