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By old Cephifus deep,

Who fpread his wayy 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 infufe!

The flowers that sweetest breathe,

Tho' beauty cull'd the wreath,

Still afk 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 laureate band;

But ftaid to fing alone

To one distinguish'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 fhrine,

Nor olive more, nor vine,

Shall gain thy feet to bless the fervile scene.

Tho' tafte, tho' genius blefs

To fome divine excess,

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

What each, what all supply,

May court, may charm our eye,

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

Of these let others ask,

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.

ODE

ODE ON THE POETICAL CHARACTER.

S once, if not with light regard,

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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 difhonour'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.

D2

Young

Young Fancy thus, to me divineft name,
To whom, prepar'd and bath'd in heaven,
The ceft of ampleft power is given,

To few the god-like gift affigns,

To gird their bleft prophetic loins,

[flame.

And gaze her vifions wild, and feel unmix'd her

The band, as fairy legends fay,

Was wove on that creating day,

When he, who call'd with thought to birth

Yon tented fky, this laughing earth,

And dreft with fprings, and forests tall,

And pour'd the main engirting all,
Long by the lov'd Enthufiaft woo'd,
Himself in fome diviner mood,

Retiring, fate with her alone,

And plac'd her on his faphire throne,
The whiles, the vaulted shrine around,
Seraphic wires were heard to found,
Now fublimeft triumph fwelling,
Now on love and mercy dwelling;

And

And fhe, from out the veiling cloud,
Breath'd her magic notes aloud:

And thou, thou rich-hair'd youth of morn,
And all thy fubject life was born!

The dangerous paffions kept aloof,

Far from the fainted growing woof:
But near it fate ecstatic Wonder,
Listening the deep applauding thunder:
And Truth, in funny veft array'd,
By whose the Tarfol's eyes were made;
All the shadowy tribes of Mind,

In braided dance their murmurs join'd,
And all the bright uncounted Powers,
Who feed on heaven's ambrofial flowers.
Where is the Bard, whofe foul can now
Its high prefuming hopes avow?
Where he who thinks, with rapture blind,
This hallow'd work for him defign'd?

High on fome cliff, to heaven up-pil'd,
Of rude accefs, of profpect wild,
D 3

Where,

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