Ah happy hills! ah pleafing fhade!
Ah fields belov'd in vain!

Where once my carelefs childhood ftray'd,
A ftranger yet to pain!

I feel the gales that from you blow
A momentary blifs bestow;

As, waving fresh their glad fome wing,
My weary foul they seem to footh,
And, redolent of joy and youth,
To breathe a second spring.

Say, father Thames, for thou haft feen
Full many a sprightly race,
Difporting on thy margent green,
The paths of pleasure trace;
Who foremost now delight to cleave,
With pliant arms, thy glaffy wave?
The captive linnet which enthrall ?
What idle progeny fucceed

To chafe the rolling circle's fpeed,
Or urge the flying ball?

While fome on earnest business bent
Their murmuring labours ply

'Gainft graver hours that bring constraint To sweeten liberty:

Some bold adventurers difdain

The limits of their little reign,

And unknown regions dare defcry:
Still as they run they look behind,
They hear a voice in ev'ry wind.
And fnatch a fearful joy.

Gay hope is theirs, by fancy fed,
Lefs pleafing when poffeft;
The tear forgot as foon as thed,
The funfhine of the breaft:
Theirs buxom health of rofy hue,
Wild wit, invention ever new,
And lively cheer, of vigour born;
The thoughtlefs day, the eafy night,
The fpirits pure, the flumbers light,
That fly th'approach of morn.

Alas! regardless of their doom,
The little victims play!

No sense have they of ills to come,
Nor care beyond to day:
Yet fee, how all around 'em wait
The minifters of human fate,

And black Misfortune's baleful train!

Ah, fhew them where in ambush stand,

To feize their prey, the murd'rous band!
Ah, tell them they are men!

These shall the fury paffions tear,
The vultures of the mind,
Difdainful anger, pallid fear,
And fhame that skulks behind;

Or pining love fhall wafte their youth,
Or jealousy with rankling tooth,
That inly gnaws the fecret heart;
And envy wan, and faded care,
Grim-vifag'd comfortless defpair,
And forrow's piercing dart.

Ambition this fhall tempt to rife;
Then whirl the wretch from high,
To bitter fcorn a facrifice,
And grinning infamy.

The flings of falsehood thofe fhall try,
And hard unkindness' alter'd eye,
That mocks the tear it forc'd to flow;
And keen remorfe with blood defil'd,
And moody madnefs laughing wild
Amid fevereft woe.

Lo! in the vale of years, beneath,
A grifly troop are feen,

The painful family of Death,
More hideous than their queen:

This racks the joints, this fires the veins,
That ev'ry labouring finew ftrains,
Thofe in the deeper vitals rage:
Lo! poverty, to fill the band,
That 'numbs the foul with icy hand:
And flow confuming age.

To each his fuff'rings: all are men,
Condemn'd alike to groan;

The tender for another's pain,
Th' unfeeling for his own.

Yet, ah! why fhould they know their fate?
Since forrow never comes too late,
And happiness too fwiftly flies.
Thought would destroy their paradife.
No more-where ignorance is blifs,
'Tis folly to be wife.

§ 76. Ode to Adversity. GREY. DAUGHTER of Jove, relentless pow'r,

Thou tamer of the human breast,
Whofe iron fcourge and tort'ring hour
The bad affright, afflict the best!
Bound in thy adamantine chain,
The proud are taught to taste of pain;
And purple tyrants vainly groan
With pangs unfelt before, unpitied and alone.
When first thy Sire to fend on earth
Virtue, his darling child, defign'd,
To thee he gave the heavenly birth,
And bade to form her infant mind.
Stern rugged nurse! thy rigid lore
With patience many a year the bore;
What forrow was, thou bad'it her know,
And from her own fhe learnt to melt at otherswoe.

Scar'd at thy frown terrific, fly
Self-pleafing Folly's idle brood,
Wild laughter, noife, and thoughtless joy,
And leave us leisure to be good.

Light they difperfe; and with them go
The fummer-friend, the flatt'ring foe;
By vain profperity receiv'd,

[liev'd.

To her they vow their truth, and are again be

Wisdom in fable garb array'd,
Immers'd in rapt'rous thought profound,
And Melancholy, filent maid,

With leaden eye that loves the ground,

Still

Still on thy folemn steps attend, Warm Charity, the general friend, With Juftice, to herself severe, And Pity, dropping foft the fadly-pleafing tear. Oh, gently on thy fuppliant's head, Dread Goddefs, lay thy chaft'ning hand! Not in thy Gorgon terrors clad, Nor circled with the vengeful band (As by the impious thou art feen) With thund'ring voice, and threat'ning mien, With fcreaming Horror's fun'ral cry, Despair, and fell Disease, and ghastly Poverty. Thy form benign, O Goddess, wear, Thy milder influence impart; Thy philofophic train be there To foften, not to wound, my heart. The gen'rous fpark extinct revive; Teach me to love, and to forgive; Exact my own defects to scan;

Man's feeble race what ills await! Labour, and penury, the racks of pain, Difeafe, and forrow's weeping train; And death, fad refuge from the storms of fate! The fond complaint, my fong, disprove, And juftify the laws of Jove.

Say, has he given in vain the heavenly Mufe?
Night and all her fickly dews,

Her fpectres wan, and birds of boding cry,
gives to range the dreary sky:
Till down the eastern cliffs afar

He

$77. The Progrefs of Poefy. A Pindaric Ode.

I. I.

GRAY.

AWAKE, Æolian lyre, awake,
And give to rapture all thy trembling ftriags.
From Helicon's harmonious fprings
A thoufand rills their mazy progrefs take:
The laughing flow'rs that round them blow,
Drink life and fragrance as they flow.
Now the rich stream of mufic winds along,
Deep, majestic, fmooth, and strong,
Thro' verdant vales, and Ceres' golden reign:
Now rolling down the steep amain,
Headlong, impetuous, see it pour;
The rocks and nodding groves re-bellow to the
I. 2.

[roar.

O fovereign of the willing foul,
Parent of fweet and folemn-breathing airs,
Enchanting fhell! the fullen cares
And frantic paflions hear thy foft controul.
On Thracia's hills the Lord of War
Has curb'd the fury of his car,

And dropp'd his thirsty lance at thy command.
Perching on the fceptred hand

Of Jove, thy magic lulls the feather'd king
With ruffled plumes, and flagging wing:
Quench'd in dark clouds of flumber lie
The terror of his beak, and lightning of his eye.

I. 3.
Thee the voice, the dance obey,
Temper'd to thy warbled lay.
O'er Idalia's velvet green

The rofy-crowned loves are seen
On Cytherea's day,

With antic fports, and blue-eyed pleasures,
Frifking light in frolic measures;
Now purfuing, now retreating,
Now in circling troops they meet;
To brisk notes in cadence beating,
Glance their many-twinkling, feet.

5

of war.

II. 2.

In climes beyond the folar road, [roam.
Where fhaggy forms o'er ice-built mountains
The Mufe has broke the twilight gloom,
And oft, beneath the od rous fhade
To cheer the fhiv'ring native's dull abode.

Of Chili's boundless forefts laid,
She deigns to hear the favage youth repeat,
In loofe numbers, wildly fweet,
Their feather-cinctur'd chiefs, and dusky loves.
Her track, where'er the goddess roves,
Th' unconquerable mind, and freedom's holy
Glory purfues, and gen'rous fhame, [flame.

II. 3

Woods, that wave o'er Delphi's fteep;
Ifles, that crown th' Egean deep;
Fields, that cool Iliffus laves,
Or where Mæander's amber waves
In ling'ring lab'rinths creep,
How do your tuneful echoes languish!
Mute but to the voice of anguish!
Where each old poetic mountain
Infpiration breath'd around;
Ev'ry fhade and hallow'd fountain
Murmur'd deep a folemn found:

Till the fad Nine, in Greece's evil hour,
Left their Parnaffus for the Latian plains:
Alike they scorn the pomp of tyrant pow'r,
And coward vice, that revels in her chains.
When Latium had her lofty spirit loft, [coaft.
They fought, O Albion! next thy fea-encircled
III. I.

Far from the fun and fummer gale,
In thy green lap was Nature's darling laid,
What time, where lucid Avon ftray'd.
To him the mighty mother did unveil
Her awful face: the dauntless child
Stretch'd forth his little arms and fmil'd.
This pencil take, (the faid), whose colours clear
Richly paint the vernal year:

Thine

Thine too thefe golden keys, immortal boy!
This can unlock the gates of joy;
Of horror, that, and thrilling fears,

Or ope the facred source of sympathetic tears.

III. 2.

Nor fecond he, that rode fublime
Upon the feraph wings of ecftafy,
The fecrets of th' abyfs to fpy.

He pais'd the flaming bounds of place and time,
The living throne, the fapphire blaze,
Where ángels tremble while they gaze,
He faw: but, blafted with excefs of light,
Clos'd his eyes in endless night.

Behold, where Dryden's lefs prefumptuous car
Wide o'er the fields of glory bear
Two courfers of ethereal race, [founding pace.
With necks in thunder cloth'd, and long re-
III. 3.

Hark, his hands the lyre explore!
Bright-eyed fancy, hov'ring o'er,
Scatters from her pictur'd urn

Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.
Bus, ah! tis heard no more-
O lyre divine! what daring fpirit
Wakes thee now? Tho' he inherit
Nor the pride nor ample pinion,
That the Theban eagle bear,
Sailing with fupreme dominion
'Thro' the azure deep of air:

Revenge on thee in hoarfer murmurs breathe;
Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day,
To high-born Hoel's harp, or foft Llewellyn's
[lay.
I. 3.

Cold is Cadwallo's tongue,
That hufi'd the ftormy main:
'Brave Urien fleeps upon his craggy bed:
Mountains, ye mourn in vain
Modred, whofe magic fong

Made huge Plinlimmon bow his cloud-topp'd On dreary Arvon's thore they lie, [head. Smear'd with gore, and ghaftly pale; Far, far aloof th' affrighted ravens fail: The famifh'd eagle fcreams, and pasles by. Dear loft companions of my tuneful art, Dear, as the light that vifits these sad eyes, 'Dear, as the ruddy drops that warm my heart, 'Ye died amidit your dying country's criesNo more I weep. They do not sleep. On yonder cliffs, a grilly band, I fee them fit: they linger yet, Avengers of their native land: With me in dreadful harmony they join, And weave with bloody hands the tiffue of thy

1.

[line.

§78. The Bard. A Pindaric Ode.. GRAY.

I. I.

RUIN feize thee, ruthless king!

Confufion on thy banners wait! Tho' fann'd by conqueft's crimson wing, They mock the air with idle ftate! Helm, nor hauberk's twifted mail, Nor even thy virtues, Tyrant, fhall avail To fave thy fecret foul from nightly fears, From Cambria's curse, from Cambria's tears!' Such were the founds that o'er the crefted pride Of the first Edward scatter'd wild difmay, As down the steep of Snowdon's fhaggy fide He wound with toilfome march his long array. Stout Glo'fter stood aghaft in speechlefs trance: Toarms! cried Mortimer, and couch'd iis quivering lance.

I. 2.

On a rock whofe haughty brow
Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood,
Rob'd in the fable garb of woe,
With haggard eyes the poet stood
(Loofe his beard, and hoary hair

Stream'd, like a meteor, to the troubled air);

2

"Mark the year, and mark the night, "When Severn fhall re-echo with affright "The fhricks of death, thro' Berkley's roofs that "Shrieks of an agonizing king! [ring: "She-wolf of France, with unrelenting fangs, "That tear'ft the bowers of thy mangled mate, "From thee be born, who o'er thy country hangs "The fcourge of Heaven. What terrors round "him wait!"

"Amazement in his van with flight combin'd, "And forrow's faded form, and Solitude behind, II. 2

Mighty Victor, mighty Lord, "Low on his fun'ral couch he lies! "No pitying heart, no eye, afford Is the fable warrior fled? "A tear to grace his obfequies.

"Thy fon is gone. He refts among the dead. "The fwarm that in thy noon-tide beam were "Gone to falute the rifing morn. [born? "Fair laughs the morn,and foft the zephyr blows, "While proudly riding o'er the azure realm "In gallant trim the gilded veffel goes; "Youth on the prow, and pleasure at the helm; "Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's fway, "That, hufh'd in grim repofe, expects his even"ing prey.

- II. 3.

66 way.

"Ye tow'rs of Julius, London's lafting fhame, "With many a foul and midnight murder fed, Revere his confort's faith, his father's fame, "And fpare the meek ufurper's holy head. "Above, below, the rofe of fnow,

"Twin'd with her blushing foe we spread;
"The bristled boar in infant gore
"Willows beneath the thorny fhade.
"Now,brothers, bending o'er th' accurfed loom,
"Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his
i doom.

III. I.
"Edward, lo! to fudden fate

(Weave we the woof. The thread is fpun.) "Half of thy heart we confecrate.

("The web is wove. The work is done.)" Stay, ch ftay! nor thus forlorn,

• Leave me unbleft, unpitied, here to mourn: In yon bright track, that fires the western skies, They melt, they vanish from my eyes. But ob! what folemn fcenes on Snowdon's • height

• Defcending flow their glitt'ring fkirts unroll? Vifions of glory, fpare my aching fight! Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my foul! No more our long-loft Arthur we bewail. All-hail, ye genuine kings, Britannia's iffue, ⚫hail!

III. 3.

The verfe adorn again ◄ Fierce War, and faithful Love,

And Truth fevere, by fairy Fiction drefs'd. In bufkin'd meafures move

• Pale Grief, and pleafing Pain.

§ 79. The Fatal Sifters. An Ode. GRAY. ow the ftorm begins to low'r (Hafte, the loom of hell prepare); Iron fleet of arrowy thow'r

N

Hurtles in the darken'd air.
Glit'ring lances are the loom
Where the dufky warp we train,
Weaving many a foldier's doom,
Orkney's woe, and Randver's bane.
See the grifly texture grow!
('Tis of human entrails made)
And the weights that play below,
Each a gafping warrior's head.
Shafts for fhuttles, dipt in gore,
Shoot the trembling cords along:
Sword, that once a monarch bore,
Keep the tiffue close and strong.
Mifta, black terrific maid,
Sangrida, and Hildå, fee!
Join the wayward work to aid:
'Tis the woof of victory.
Ere the ruddy fun be fet,
Pikes must fhiver, jav'lings fing,
Blade with clatt'ring buckler meet,
Hauberk crash, and helmet ring.
(Weave the crimson web of war.)
Let us go, and let us fly,
Where our friends the conflict share,
Where they triumph, where they die,
As the paths of fate we tread,
Wading thro' th' enfanguin'd field,
Gondula, and Geira, spread
O'er the youthful king your fhield.
We the reins to flaughter give,
Ours to kill, and ours to fpare:
Spite of danger he fhall live.
(Weave the crimson web of war.)
They, whom once the desert beach
Pent within its bleak domain,
Soon their ample fway thall ftretch)
O'er the plenty of the plain.
Low the dauntless earl is laid,
Gor'd with many a gaping wound:

Fate