Графични страници
PDF файл
ePub

ODE TO PITY.

Thou, the friend of man affign'd,

With balmy hands his wounds to bind, And charm his frantic woe;

When first Distress, with dagger keen,

Broke forth to wafte his deftin'd scene,

His wild unfated foe!

By Pella's Bard, a magic name,

By all the griefs his thought could frame,

Receive my humble rite:

Long, Pity, let the nations view

Thy fky-worn robes of tendereft blue,

And eyes of dewy light!

But wherefore need I wander wide

To old Iliffus' diftant fide,

Deferted

Deferted ftream, and mute?

Wild Arun † too has heard thy ftrains,

And Echo, 'midst my native plains,
Been footh❜d by Pity's lute.

There first the wren thy myrtles fhed
On gentleft Otway's infant head,

To him thy cell was fhewn;

And while he fung the female heart,
With youth's foft notes unfpoil'd by art,
Thy turtles mix'd their own.

Come, Pity, come, by fancy's aid,
Ev'n now my thoughts, relenting maid,
Thy temple's pride defign:

Its fouthern fite, its truth compleat
Shall raise a wild enthufiaft heat,
In all who view the shrine.

There Picture's toil fhall well relate,

How chance, or hard involving fate

+ A river in Suffex.

O'er

O'er mortal blifs prevail:

The buskin'd Muse shall near her stand,,
And fighing prompt her tender hand,
With each difaftrous tale.

There let me oft, retir'd by day,
In dreams of paffion melt away,
Allow'd with thee to dwell:

There wafte the mournful lamp of night,
Till, Virgin, thou again delight
To hear a British shell!

ODE

Deferted ftream, and mute?

Wild Arun + too has heard thy ftrains,

And Echo, 'midft my native plains,
Been footh'd by Pity's lute.

There first the wren thy myrtles fhed
On gentleft Otway's infant head,

To him thy cell was fhewn;

And while he fung the female heart,
With youth's foft notes unfpoil'd by art,

Thy turtles mix'd their own.

Come, Pity, come, by fancy's aid,
Ev'n now my thoughts, relenting maid,
Thy temple's pride defign:

Its fouthern fite, its truth compleat
Shall raife a wild enthusiast heat,
In all who view the shrine.

There Picture's toil fhall well relate,

How chance, or hard involving fate

† A river in Suffex,

O'er

O'er mortal bliss prevail :

The bufkin'd Mufe fhall near her stand,,

And fighing prompt her tender hand,

With each difaftrous tale.

[ocr errors]

There let me oft, retir'd by day,
In dreams of paffion melt away,
Allow'd with thee to dwell:

There waste the mournful lamp of night,
Till, Virgin, thou again delight
To hear a British shell!

ODE

« ПредишнаНапред »