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mix'd ;

the song:

In one rade clash he struck the lyre, Of differing themes the veering song was And swept with hurried hand the strings.

And now it courted Love, now raving

callid on Hate, With woeful measures wan Despair Low, sullen sounds his grief be- With eyes up-raised, as one inspired, guiled;

Pale Melancholy sate retired, A solemn, strange, and mingled air, And from her wild sequester'd seat, 'T was sad by fits, by starts 't was In notes by distance made more sweet, wild.

Pour'd through the mellow hom her

pensive soul : But thou, O Hope, with eyes so fair, And, dashing soft from rocks around,

What was thy delighted measure ? Bubbling runnels join'd the sound; Still it whisper'd promised pleasure, Through glades and glooms the mingled And bade the lovely scenes at dis

measure stole, tance hail !

Or o'er some haunted stream, with Still would her touch the strain pro

fond delay, long;

Round an holy calm diffusing, And from the rocks, the woods, the Love of peace, and lonely musing, vale,

In hollow murmurs died away, She callid on Echo still, through all But 0 ! how alter'd was its sprightlier

tone, And, where her sweetest theme she When Cheerfulness, a nymph of heal. chose,

thiest hue, A soft responsive voice was heard Her bow across her shoulder flung, at every close,

Her buskins gemm'd with morning And Hope enchanted smiled, and

dew, waved her golden hair.

Blew an inspiring air, thai dale and And longer had she sung ;-but with a frown,

The hunter's call to Faun and Dryad Revenge impatient rose :

known! He threw his blood-stain'd sword, in The oak-crown'd sisters, and their thunder, down;

chaste eyed Queen, And, with a withering look,

Satyrs and Sylvan Boys were seen, The war-denouncing trumpet took, Peeping from forth their alleys green: And blew a blast so loud and dread, Brown Exercise rejoiced to hear; Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of And Sport leapt up and seized his woe!

beechen spear. And, ever and anon, he beat

Last came Joy's ecstatic trial :
The doubling drum, with furious He, with viny crown advancing,

First to the lively pipe his hand ad. And though sometimes, each dreary

dressid ; pause between,

But soon he saw the brisk-awakening Dejected Pity, at his side,

viol. Her soul-subduing voice applied, Whose sweet entrancing voice he Yet still he kept his wild unalter'd

loved the best ; mien,

They would have thought who While each strain'd ball of sight seem'd

beard the strain bursting from his head.

They saw, in Tempé's vale, her

native maids, Thy numbers, Jealousy, to nought were Amidst the festal sounding shades

fix'd ; Sad proof of thy distressful state ;

* The Dryads and Diana.

thicket rung,

heat ;

To some unwearied minstrel dancing, Or stoop to wail the swain that is no While as his flying fingers kiss'd the more! strings,

Ah, homely swains! your homeward steps Love fram'd with Mirth a gay tan- ne'er lose ; tastic round:

Let not dank Will * mislead you to the Loose were her tresses seen, her zone heath; unbound;

Dancing in murky night, o'er fen and lake, And he, amidst his frolic play, He glows to draw you downward to As if he would the charming air repay,

your death, Shcok thousand odours from his dewy In his bewitch'd, low, marshy, willow wings.

brake! O Music ! sphere-descended maid, What though far off, from some dark dell Friend of Pleasure, Wisdom's aid! espied Why, goddess, why, to us denied, His glimmering mazes cheer the excur. Lay'st thou thy ancient lyre aside?

sive sight, As, in that loved Athenian bower, Yet, turn, ye wanderers, turn your steps You learn'd an all-commanding aside, power,

Nor trust the guidance of that faithless Thy mimic soul, O Nymph endear'd, light: Can well recall what then it heard ; For watchful, lurking, mid th' unrustling Where is thy native simple heart,


[lies, Devote to Virtue, Fancy, Art ? At those murk hours the wily monster Arise, as in that elder time,

And listens oft to hear the passing steed, Warm, energetic, chaste, sublime ! And frequent round him rolls his sullen Thy wonders, in that god-like age, eyes, Fill thy recording Sister's page If chance his savage wrath may some weak 'Tis said, and I believe the tale,

wretch surprise. Thy humblest reed could more prevail,

Ah, luckless swain, o'er all unbless'd, Had more of strength, diviner rage, indeed! Than all which charms this laggard Whom late bewilder'd in the dank, age ;

dark fen,
E'en all at once together found, Far from his flocks, and smoking
Cecilia's mingled world of sound- hamlet, then!
O bid our vain endeavour cease; To that sad spot where hums the sedgy
Revive the just designs of Greece: weed :
Return in all thy simple state ! On him, enraged, the fiend, in angry
Confirm the tales her sons relate ! mood,

Shall never look with Pity's kind concern,
But instant, furious, raise the whelming

flood FROM AN ODE ON THE POPULAR O'er its drown'd banks, forbidding all


Or if he meditate his wish'd escape, LANDS; CONSIDERED AS THE To some dim hill, that seems uprising SUBJECT OF POETRY.


To his faint eye, the grim and grisly ADDRESSED TO MR. JOHN HOME.

shape, THESE, too, thou'lt sing ! for well thy magic muse

* A fiery meteor, called by various names, such Can to the topmost heaven of grandeur &c. It hovers in the air over marshy and fenny

as Will with the Whisp, Jack with the Lantern, soar;



In all its terrors clad, shall wild appear. To that hoar pile * which still its ruins Meantime the watery surge shall round

shows; him rise,

In whose small vaults a pigmy-folk is Pour'd suddes forth from every swelling found, source !

Whose bones the delver with his spade What now remains but tears and hope- upthrows, less sighs ?

And culls them, wondering, from the His fear-shook limbs have lost their youth- hallow'd ground ful force,

Or thither, + where beneath the showery And down the waves he floats, a pale

west, and breathless corse !

The mighty kings of three fair realms

are laid; For him in vain his anrious wife shall Once foes, perhaps, together now they wait,

rest, Or wander forth to meet him on his No slaves revere them, and no wars

invade : For him in vain at to-fall of the day, Yet frequent now, at midnight solemn His babes shall linger at th' unclosing hour, gate!

The rifted mounds their yawning cells Ah, ne'er shall he return! alone, if unfold, night

And forth the monarchs stalk with soveHer travellid limbs in broken slumbers reign power, steep!

In pageant robes, and wreathed with With drooping willows dress'd, his mourn. sheeny gold, ful sprite

And on their twilight tombs aërial council Shall visit sad, perchance, her silent hold.

sleep : Then he, perhaps, with moist and watery But, oh! o'er all, forget not Kilda's hand

race, Shall fondly seem to press her shudder- On whose bleak rocks, which brave the ing cheek,

wasting tides, And with his blue swoln face before her

Fair Nature's daughter, Virtue, yet stand,

abides. And shivering cold these piteous accents Go! just, as they, their blameless manners speak:

trace! Pursue, dear wifė, thy daily toils pursue, Then to my ear transmit some gentle At dawn or dusk, industrious as before ;

song, Nor e'er of me one helpless thought renew, Of those whose lives are yet sincere and While I lie weltering on the osier'

plain, shore,

Their bounded walks the rugged cliffs Drown'd by the Kelpie's * wrath, or e'er

along, shall aid thee more !"

And all their prospect but the wintry main.

With sparing temperance, at the needful Unbounded is thy range ; with varied

time, skill

They drain the scented spring: or, hunger. Thy muse may, like those feathery

press'd, tribes which spring From their rude rocks, extend her skirting wing

* One of the Hebrides is called the Isle of Round the moist marge of each cold bones of the human species have been dug up in Along th' Atlantic rock, undreading And call forth fresh delight to fancy's climb,

Pigmies; it is reported that several miniature Hebrid isle,

the ruins of a chapel there.

+ Icolmkill, one of the Hebrides, where near

sixty of the ancient Scottish, Irish, and Nor . The water fiend.

wegian kings are interred.

view, And of its eggs despoil the solan's nest.. Th'heroic muse employ'd her Tasso's Thus, blest in primal innocence they heart ! live,

How have I trembled, when, at TanSufficed and happy with that frugal fare cred's stroke, Which tasteful toil and hourly danger Its gushing blood the gaping cypress give :

pour'd! Hard is their shallow soil, and bleak and When each live plant with mortal accents bare ;

spoke, Nor ever vernal bee was heard to And the wild blast upheaved the vanish'd murmur there!


How have I sat, when piped the pensive Nor need'st thou blush that such false wind, themes engage

To hear his harp by British Fairfax strung! Thy gentle mind, of fairer stores pos- Prevailing poet ! whose undoubting sess'd;

mind For not alone they touch the village Believed the magic wonders which te breast,

sung ; But fillid, in elder time, the historic Hence, at each sound, imagination page.

glows! There, Shakspeare's self, with every Hence, at each picture, vivid life starts garland crown'd,

here ! Flew to those fairy climes his fancy sheen, Hence his warm lay with softest sweet. In musing hour, his wayward sisters

ness flows ! found,

Melting it flows, pure, murmuring, strong, And with their terrors dress'd the magic

and clear,

And fills th’ impassion'd heart, and wins From them he sung, when mid his bold

the harmonious ear! design, Before the Scot, afflicted, and aghast ! The shadowy kings of Banquo's fated

DIRGE IN CYMBELINE, Through the dark cave in gloomy pageant pass'd.

To fair Fidele's Proceed ! nor quit the tales which, Soft maids and village hinds shall bring simply told,

Each opening sweet of earliest bloom, Could once so well my answering bosom And rifle all the breathing spring.

pierce; Proceed, in forceful sounds, and colour No wailing ghost shall dare appear bold,

To vex with shrieks this quiet grove; The native legends of thy land rehearse; But shepherd lads assemble here, To such adapt thy lyre, and suit thy And melting virgins own their love. powerful verse.

No wither'd witch shall here be sean, In scenes like these, which, daring to

No goblins lead their nightly crew; depart

But female fays shall haunt the green, From sober truth, are still to nature

And dress thy grave with pearly dew. true,

The redbreast oft at evening hours

Shall kindly lend his little aid, An aquatic bird like

a goose on the eggs of With hoary moss and gather'd flowers which the inhabitants of St. Kilda, another of the Hebrides, chiefly subsist.

To deck the ground where thou art laid



grassy tomb



When howling winds and beating rain

ON THE DEATH OF THOMSON, In tempests shake the sylvan cell, Or 'midst the chase upon the plain, In yonder grave a Druid lies The tender thought on thee shall dwell. Where slowly winds the stealing wave!

The year's best sweets shall duteous
Each lonely scene shall thee restore,
For thee the tear be duly shed;

To deck its poet's sylvan grave !
Beloved till life can charm no more,
And mourn'd till Pity's self be dead. In yon deep bed whispering reeds

His airy harp shall now be laid,
That he whose heart in sorrow bleeds,
May love through life the soothing


Then maids and youths shall linger here,

And, while its sounds at distance swell, O THOU, who sit’st a smiling bride

Shall sadly seem in pity's ear By Valour's arm’d and awful side,

To hear the woodland pilgrim's knell. Gentlest of sky-born forms, and best adored ;

Remembrance oft shall haunt the shore Who oft with songs, divine to hear,

When Thames in summer wreaths is Win'st from his fatal

the spear,

And hid'st in wreaths of flowers his And oft suspend the dashing oar
bloodless sword !

To bid his gentle spirit rest !
Thou who, amidst the deathful field,
By god-like chiefs alone beheld,

And oft as ease and health retire
Oft with thy bosom bare art found,
Pleading for him the youth who sinks to the friend shall view yon whitening spire,

To breezy lawn, or forest deep, ground :

And 'mid the varied landscape weep. See, Mercy, see, with pure and loaded

hands, Before thy shrine my country's genius

But thou, who own'st that earthy bed, stands,

Ah! what will every dirge avail ?

Or tears which love and pity shed, And decks thy altar still, though pierced

That mourn beneath the gliding sail ! with many a wound 1

Yet lives there one, whose heedless eye ANTISTROPHE

Shall scorn thy pale shrine glimmering When he whom ev'n our joys provoke, near ?

The fiend of nature join'd his yoke, With him, sweet bard, may fancy die, And rush d in wrath to make our isle his And joy desert the blooming year.

prey ; Thy form, from out thy sweet abode, But thou, lorn stream, whose sullen tide

O’ertook him on his blasted road, No sedge-crown'd sisters now attend, And stopp'd his wheels, and look's his Now waft me from the green hill's side rage away.

Whose cold turf hides the buried friend! I see recoil his sable steeds,

That bore him swift to savage deeds, And see, the fairy valleys fade, Thy tender melting eyes they own; Dun night has veil'd the solenın view! O maid, for all thy love to Britain shown, Yet once again, dear parted shade,

Where Justice bars her iron tower, Meek nature's child, again adieu !

To thee we build a roseate bower, Thou, thou shalt rule our queen, and The genial meads assign'd to bless share our monarch's throne !

Thy life, shall mourn thy early doom !

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