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Fields, that cool Ilissus laves,
Two coursers of ethereal race, Or where Mæander's amber waves With necks in thunder clothed, and longIn lingering labyrinths creep,
resounding pace. How do your tuneful Echoes languish Mute, but to the voice of anguish?
Hark, his hands the lyre explore ! Where each old poetic mountain
Bright-eyed Fancy, hovering o'er, Inspiration breathed around :
Scatters from her pictured urn Every shade and hallow'd fountain
Thoughts that breathe, and words that Murmur'd deep a solemn sound :
burn. Till the sad Nine, in Greece's evil hour,
But ah ! 'tis heard no moreLeft their Parnassus, for the Latian
Oh ! lyre divine, what daring spirit plains.
Wakes thee now? Though he inherit Alike they scorn the pomp of tyrant
Nor the pride, nor ample pinion, power,
That the Theban eagle bear, And coward Vice, that revels in her
Sailing with supreme dominion chains. When Latium had her lofty spirit lost,
Through the azure deep of air :
Yet oft before his infant eyes would They sought, oh Albion! next thy seaencircled coast.
Such forms as glitter in the Muse's
With orient hues, unborrow'd of the Far from the Sun and summer-gale, In thy green lap was Nature's darling
Yet shall he mount, and keep his dis. laid, What time, where lucid Avon stray'd,
Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate, To him the mighty mother did unveil Beneath the good how far!-but far above Her awful face : the dauntless child
the great. Stretch'd forth his little arms, and
smiled. “This pencil take,” she said, “whose
colours clear Richly paint the vernal year :
HYMN TO ADVERSITY. Thine too these golden keys, immortal boy!
DAUGHTER of Jove, relentless pow's, This can unlock the gates of Joy ;
Thou tamer of the human breast, Of Horror that, and thrilling fears, Whose iron scourge and tort'ring hour Or ope the sacred source of sympathetic The bad affright, afflict the best! tears.”
Bound in thy adamantine chain,
The proud are taught to taste of pain, Nor second he, that rode sublime
And purple tyrants vainly groan Upon the seraph-wings of Ecstasy,
With pangs unfelt before, unpitied and The secrets of th' abyss to spy.
alone. He pass'd the flaming bounds of place and time :
When first thy sire to send on earth The living throne, the sapphire-blaze, Virtue, his darling child, design'd, Where angels tremble, while they gaze, To thee he gave the heav'nly birth, He saw ; but, blasted with excess of And bade thee form her infant mind. light,
Stern rugged nurse! thy rigid lore Closed his eyer ia endless night. With patience many a year she bore : Behold, where Dryden's less presump. What sorrow was, thou bad'st her know tuous car,
And from her own she learn'd to melt at Wide o'er the field of Glory bear
Scared at thy frown terrific, fly Whose turf, whose shade, whose flow Self-pleasing Folly's idle brood,
among Wild Laughter, Noise, and thoughtless Wanders the hoary Thames along Joy,
His silver winding way. And leave us leisure co be good. Light they disperse, and with them go Ah, happy hills ! ah, pleasing shade! The summer Friend, the flatt'ring Foe; Ah, fields beloved in vain ! By vain Prosperity received,
Where once my careless childhood stray'l, To her they vow their truth, and are A stranger yet to pain ! again believed.
I feel the gales, that from ye blow,
A momentary bliss bestow,
And, redolent of joy and youth,
Say, Father Thames (for thou hast
Disporting on thy margent green,
The paths of pleasure trace),
The captive linnet which enthral ?
'Gainst graver hours, that bring con
straint Thy form benign, O Goddess ! wear, To sweeten liberty : Thy milder influence impart,
Some bold adventurers disdain
The limits of their little reign,
And snatch a fearful joy.
Gay hope is theirs by Fancy fed,
The tear forgot as soon as shed,
Theirs buxom Health of rosy hue,
Wild Wit, Invention ever new,
The thoughtless day, the easy night,
still adores The spirits pure, the slumbers light, Her Henry's holy shade ;
That Hy th' approach of morn.
No sense have they of ills to come,
ELEGY, WRITTEN IN A Yet see how all around them wait
COUNTRY CHURCHYARD. The ministers of human fate, And black Misfortune's baleful train !
THE curfew tolls the knell of parting Ah, show them where in ambush stand,
day, To seize their prey, the murd'rous band,
The lowing herds wind slowly o'er the Ah, tell them they are men !
The ploughman homeward plods his These shall the fury passions tear,
weary way, The vultures of the mind,
And leaves the world to darkness and to Disdainful Anger, pallid Fear, And Shame that skulks behind : Or pining Love shall waste their youth, Or Jealousy with rankling tooth,
Now fades the glimm'ring landscape on That inly gnaws the secret heart,
the sight, And Envy wan, and faded Care,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Grim visaged comfortless Despair,
Save where the beetle wheels his droning And Sorrow's piercing dart.
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant Ambition this shall tempt to rise,
folds; Then whirl the wretch from high, To bitter Scorn a sacrifice,
Save that from yonder ivy-mantled And grinning Infamy.
tower, The stings of Falsehood those shall try,
The moping owl does to the moon comAd hard Unkindness' alter'd eye,
plain That mocks the tear it forced to flow;
Of such, as wand'ring near her secret And keen Remorse with blood defiled,
bow'r, And moody Madness laughing wild Molest her ancient solitary reign. Amid severest woe.
Beneath those rugged elms, that yew Lo, in the vale of years beneath
tree's shade, A grisly trop are seen,
Where heaves the turf in many a moul. The painful family of Death,
d'ring heap, More hideous than their queen;
Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, This racks the joints, this fires the veins, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. That every lab'ring sinew strains, Those in the deeper vitals rage : Lo, Poverty, to fill the band,
The breezy call of Incense- breathing That numbs the soul with icy hand,
Morn, And slow consuming Age.
The swallow twitt'ring from the straw.
built shed, To each his suff'rings : all are men,
The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing Condemn'd alike to groan;
horn, The tender for another's pain,
No more shall rouse them from their Th’unfeeling for his own.
lowly bed. Yet ah ! why should they know their fate
For them no more the blazing hearth Since Sorrow never comes too late,
shall burn, And Happiness too swiftly flies; Or busy housewife ply her ev'ning care : Thought would destroy their Paradise. No children run to lisp their sire's return, No more ; where ignorance is bliss, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to 'Tis folly to Le vise.