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The legions gather'd; the bright eagles flew: Barbarian monarchs in the triumph mourn'd; The conquerors to their household gods return'd, And fed Calabrian flocks, and steer'd the Sabine plough.

Shall then this glory of the antique age,

This pride of men, be lost among mankind? Shall War's heroic arts no more engage

The unbought hand, the unsubjected mind? Doth valour to the race no more belong? No more with scorn of violence and wrong Doth forming Nature now her sons inspire, That, like some mystery to few reveal'd, The skill of arms abash'd and aw'd they yield, And from their own defence with hopeless hearts retire?

O shame to human life, to human laws! The loose adventurer, hireling of a day, Who his fell sword without affection draws, Whose God, whose country, is a tyrant's pay, This man the lessons of the field can learn; Can every palm, which decks a warrior, earn, And every pledge of conquest: while in vain, To guard your altars, your paternal lands, Are social arms held out to your free hands: Too arduous is the lore; too irksome were the pain.

Meantime by Pleasure's lying tales allur'd,

From the bright Sun and living breeze ye stray; And deep in London's gloomy haunts immur'd, Brood o'er your fortune's, freedom's, health's decay.

O blind of choice and to yourselves untrue!
The young grove shoots, their bloom the fields

renew,

The mansion asks its lord, the swains their friend; While he doth Riot's orgies haply share,

Or tempt the gamester's dark, destroying snare, Or at some courtly shrine with slavish incense bend.

And yet full oft your anxious tongues complain

That lawless tumult prompts the rustic throng; That the rude village inmates now disdain

Those homely ties which rul'd their fathers long. Alas! your fathers did by other arts

Draw those kind ties around their simple hearts, And led in other paths their ductile will; By succour, faithful counsel, courteous cheer, Won them the ancient manners to revere, To prize their country's peace, and Heaven's due rites fulfil.

But mark the judgment of experienc'd Time,
Tutor of nations. Doth light Discord tear
A state? and impotent Sedition's crime?

The powers of warlike Prudence dwell not
there;

The powers who to command and to obey, Instruct the valiant. There would civil sway The rising race to manly concord tame?

Oft let the marshal'd field their steps unite, And in glad splendour bring before their sight One common cause and one hereditary fame.

Nor yet be aw'd, nor yet your task disown, Though War's proud votaries look on severe; Though secrets taught erewhile to them alone, They deem profan'd by your intruding ear.

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For when within thy shady seat

First from the sultry town he chose,

And the tir'd senate's cares, his wish'd repose, Then wast thou mine; to me a happier home For social leisure: where my welcome feet, Estrang'd from all the entangling ways In which the restless vulgar strays, Through Nature's simple paths with ancient faith might roam.

And while around his sylvan scene My Dyson led the white-wing'd hours, Oft from the Athenian Academic bowers Their sages came: oft heard our lingering walk The Mantuan music warbling o'er the green: And oft did Tully's reverend shade, Though much for liberty afraid,

With us of letter'd ease or virtuous glory talk.

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ODE XIII.

TO THE AUTHOR OF MEMOIRS OF THE HOUSE OF BRANDENBURGH.

M.DCC. LI.

THE men renown'd as chiefs of human race, And born to lead in counsels or in arms, Have seldom turn'd their fect from Glory's chase, To dwell with books, or court the Muse's charms. Yet, to our eyes if haply time hath brought Some genuine transcript of their ca'mer thought, There still we own the wise, the great, or good; And Cæsar there and Xenophon are seen, As clear in spirit and sublime of mien, As on Pharsalian plains, or by the Assyrian flood.

Say thou too, Frederic, was not this thy aim? Thy vigils could the student's lamp engage, Except for this? except that future fame

Might read thy genius in the faithful page? That if hereafter Envy shall presume With words irreverent to inscribe thy tomb, And baser weeds upon thy palms to fling, That hence posterity may try thy reign, Assert thy treaties, and thy wars explain, And view in native lights the hero and the king.

O evil foresight and pernicious care !
Wilt thou indeed abide by this appeal?
Shall we the lessons of thy peu compare

With private honour or with public zeal?
Whence then at things divine those darts of scorn?
Why are the woes, which virtuous men have borne
For sacred Truth, a prey to laughter given?
What fiend, what foe of Nature, urged thy arm
The Almighty of his sceptre to disarm?
To push this Earth adrift, and leave it loose from
Heaven?

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O Beauty's only friend,

Who giv'st her pleasing reverence to inspire;

Who, selfish, bold desire

Dost to esteem and dear affection turn;

Alas! of thee forlorn,

NOTES

ON

THE TWO BOOKS OF odes.

Book I. Ode XVIII. Stanza II. Line 19.] Lycurgus the Lacedæmonian law-giver, brought into Greece from Asia Minor the first complete copy of Homer's works.-At Platæa was fought the decisive battle between the Persian ariny and the united militia of Greece, under Pausanias and Aristides. -Cymon the Athenian erected a trophy in Cyprus for two great victories gained on the same day over the Persians by sea and land. Diodorus Siculus has preserved the inscription which the Athenians affixed to the consecrated spoils, after this great success; in which it is very remarkable, that the greatness of the occasion has raised the manner of expression above the usual simplicity and modesty of all other ancient inscriptions. It is this:

ΕΞ. ΟΥ. Γ. ΕΥΡΩΠΗΝ. ΑΣΙΑΣ. ΔΙΧΑ. ΠΟΝ ΓΟΣ.
ENEIME.

ΚΑΙ. ΠΟΛΕΑΣ. ΘΝΗΤΩΝ. ΘΟΥΡΟΣ. ΑΡΗΣ.
EIIEXEL.

ΟΥΔΕΝ ΠΩ. ΤΟΙΟΥΤΟΝ. ΕΠΙΧΘΟΝΙΩΝ. ΓΕΝΕΤ'.
ΑΝΔΡΩΝ.

ΕΡΤΟΝ. ΕΝ. ΗΠΕΙΡΩΙ ΚΑΙ ΚΑΤΑ, ΠΟΝΤΟΝ,
AMA.

ΟΙΔΕ. ΓΑΡ. ΕΝ ΚΥΠΡΩΙ. ΜΗΔΟΥΣ. ΠΟΛΛΟΥΣ.
ΟΛΕΣΑΝΤΕΣ.

ΦΟΙΝΙΚΩΝ. ΕΚΑΤΟΝ. ΝΑΥΣ. ΕΛΟΝ. ΕΝ. ΠΕΛΑ-
ΓΕΙ.

What joy, what praise, what hope can life pretend ? ΑΝΔΡΩΝ, ΠΛΗΘΟΥΣΑΣ. ΜΕΓΑ. Δ'. ΕΣΤΕΝΕΝ. ΑΣΙΣ,

"Behold; our youths in vain

Concerning nuptial happiness inquire:
Our maids no more aspire

The arts of bashful Hymen to attain;

But with triumphant eyes

And cheeks impassive, as they move along,
Ask homage of the throng.

The lover swears that in a harlot's arms
Are found the self-same charms,

And worthless and deserted lives and dies.

"Behold; unbless'd at home,

The father of the cheerless household mourns:
The night in vain returns,

For Love and glad Content at distance roam;
While she, in whom his mind

Seeks refuge from the day's dull task of cares,

To meet him she prepares,

ΥΠ' ΑΥΤΩΝ.

ΠΛΗΓΕΙΣ. ΑΜΦΟΤΕΡΑΙΣ ΧΕΡΣΙ. ΚΡΑΤΕΙ. ΠΟ

ΑΙ ΜΟΥ.

The following translation is almost literal:

Since first the sea from Asia's hostie coast
Divided Europe, and the god of war
Assail'd imperious cities; never yet,

At once among the waves and on the shore,
Hath such a labour been achiev'd by men
Who Earth inhabit. They, whose arms the Medes,
In Cyprus felt pernicious, they, the same
Have won from skilful Tyre an hundred ships
Crowded with warriors. Asia groans, in both
Her hands sore smitten, by the might of war.

Stanza II. Line 24.] Pindar was contemporary with Aristides and Cymon, in whom the glory of Through noise and spleen and all the gamester's art, ancient Greece was at its height. When Xerxes A listless, harass'd heart.

invaded Greece, Pindar was true to the common

Where not one tender thought can welcome find." interest of his country; though his fellow citizens,

'Twas thus, along the shore

Of Thames, Britannia's guardian Genius heard,
From many a tongue preferr'd,

Of strife and grief the fond invective lore:
At which the queen divine

Indignant, with her adamantine spear

Like thunder sounding near,

Smote the red cross upon her silver shield,

And thus her wrath reveal'd.

the Thebans, had sold themselves to the Persian king. In one of his Odes he expresses the great distress and anxiety of his mind, occasioned by the vast preparations of Xerxes against Greece. (Isthm. S.) In another he celebrates the victories of Salamis, Platæa, and Himera. (Pyth. 1.) It will be necessary to add two or three other particulars of his life, real or fabulous, in order to explain what follows in the text concerning him. First then, he was thought to be so great a frourite of Apollo,

(I watch'd her awful words and made them mine.) that the priests of that deity allotted him a con

stant share of their offerings. It was said of him,

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Ode XIII.] In the year 1751, appeared a very splendid edition, in quarto, of "Memoires pour servir à l'Histoire de la Maison de Brandebourg, à Berlin et à la Haye;" with a privilege signed FREDERIC; the same being engraved in imitation of hand-writing. In this edition, among other extraordinary passages, are the two following, to which the third stanza of this ode more particularly refers:

as of some other illustrious men, that at his birth a swarm of bees lighted on his lips, and fed him with their honey. It was also a tradition concerning him, that Pan was heard to recite his poetry, and seen dancing to one of his hymns on the mountains near Thebes. But a real historical fact in his life is, that the Thebans imposed a large fine upon him, on account of the veneration which he expressed in his poems for that heroic spirit, shown by the people of Athens in defence of the common "Il se fit une migration" (the author is speakliberty, which his own fellow-citizens had shame-ing of what happened of the revocation of the edict fully betrayed. And as the argument of this ode implies, that great poetical talents, and high sentiments of liberty, do reciprocally produce and assist each other, so Pindar is perhaps the most exemplary proof of this connection, which occurs in history. The Thebans were remarkable, in general, for a slavish disposition through all the fortunes of their commonwealth; at the time of its ruin by Philip; and even in its best state, under the administration of Pelopidas and Epaminondas: and every one knows, they were no less remarkable for great dulness, and want of all genius. That Pindar should have equally distinguished himself from the rest of his fellow-citizens in both these respects seems somewhat extraordinary, and is scarce to be accounted for but by the preceding observation.

Stanza III, Line 28.] Alluding to his "Defence of the People of England" against Salmasius. See particularly the manner in which he himself speaks of that undertaking, in the introduction to his reply to Morus.

Stanza IV. Line 35.] Edward the Third; from whom descended Henry Hastings, third earl of Huntingdon, by the daughter of the duke of Clarence, brother to Edward the Fourth.

Stanza V. Line 36.] At Whittington, a village on the edge of Scarsdale in Derbyshire, the earls of Devonshire and Danby, with the lord Delamere, privately concerted the plan of the Revolution. The house in which they met is at present a farmhouse; and the country people distinguish the room where they sat, by the name of "the plotting parlour."

Book II. Ode VII. Stanza II. Line 5,] Mr. Locke died in 1704, when Mr. Hoadly was beginning to distinguish himself in the cause of civil and religious liberty lord Godolphin in 1712, when the doctrines of the Jacobite faction were chiefly favoured by those in power: lord Somers in 1716, amid the practices of the non-juring clergy against the protestant establishment; and lord Stanhope in 1721, during the controversy with the lower house of convocation.

Ode X. Stanza V.] During Mr. Pope's war with Theobald, Concanen, and the rest of their tribe, Mr. Warburton, the present lord bishop of Gloucester, did with great zeal cultivate their friendship; having been introduced, forsooth, at the meetings of that respectable confederacy: a favour which he afterwards spoke of in very high terms of complacency and thankfulness. At the same time, in his intercourse with them, he treated Mr. Pope in a most contemptuous manner, and as a writer without genius. Of the truth of these assertions his lordship can have no doubt, if he recollects his own correspondence with Concanen; a part of which is still in being, and will probably be remembered as long as any of this pie`ate's writings,

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of Nantes) "dont on n'avoit guere vu d'exemples dans l'histoire: un peuple entier sortit du royaume par l'esprit de parti en haine du pape, et pour recevoir sous un autre ciel la communion sous les denx especes: quatre cens mille ames s'expatrierent ainsi et abandonnerent tous leur biens pour detonner dans d'autres temples les vieux pseaumes de Clement Marot." P. 163.

"La crainte donna le jour à la credulité, et l'amour propre interessa bientôt le ciel au destin des hommes." P. 242.

HYMN TO THE NAIADS.

M.DCC.XLVI.

THE ARGUMENT,

THE nymphs, who preside over springs and rivu lets, are addressed at day-break, in honour of their several functions, and of the relations which they bear to the natural and to the moral world. Their origin is deduced from the first allegorical deities, or powers of Nature; according to the doctrine of the old mythological poets, concerning the generation of the gods and the rise of things. They are then successively considered, as giving motion to the air and exciting summerbreezes; as nourishing and beautifying the vegetable creation; as contributing to the fullness of navigable rivers, and consequently to the maintenance of commerce; and by that means, to the maritime part of military power. Next is represented their favourable influence upon health, when assisted by rural exercise: which introduces their connection with the art of physic, and the happy effects of mineral medicinal springs. Lastly, they are celebrated for the friendship which the Muses bear them, and for the true inspiration which temperance only can receive: in opposition to the enthusiasm of the more licentious pocts.

O'ER yonder eastern hill the twilight pale
Walks forth from darkness; and the god of day,
With bright Astræa seated by his side,
Waits yet to leave the ocean. Tarry, Nymphs,
Ye Nymphs, ye blue-ey'd progeny of Thames,
Who now the mazes of this rugged heath
Trace with your fleeting steps; who all night long
Repeat, amid the cool and tranquil air,
Your lonely murmurs, tarry: and receive
My offer'd lay. To pay you homage due,
I leave the gates of Sleep; nor shall my lyre

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Too far into the splendid hours of morn
Engage your audience: my observant hand
Shall close the strain ere any sultry beam
Approach you. To your subterranean haunts
Ye then may timely steal; to pace with care
The humid sands; to loosen from the soil
The bubbling sources; to direct the rills
To meet in wider channels; or beneath
Some grotto's dripping arch, at height of noon 20
To slumber, shelter'd from the burning heaven.
Where shall my song begin, ye Nymphs? or end?
Wide is your praise and copious-First of things,
First of the lonely powers, ere Time arose,
Were Love and Chaos. Love the sire of Fate;
Elder than Chaos. Born of Fate was Time,
Who many sons and many comely births
Devour'd, relentless father: till the child
Of Rhea drove him from the upper sky,
And quell'd his deadly might. Then social reign'd
The kindred powers, Tethys, and reverend Ops,
And spotless Vesta; while supreme of sway
Remain'd the cloud-compeller. From the couch
Of Tethys sprang the sedgy crowned race,
Who from a thousand urns, o'er every clime,
Send tribute to their parent: and from them
Are ye, O Naiads: Arethusa fair,
And tuneful Aganippe; that sweet name,
Bandusia; that soft family which dwelt
With Syrian Daphne; and the honour'd tribes 40
Belov'd of Pæon. Listen to my strain,
Daughters of Tethys: listen to your praise.
You, Nymphs, the winged offspring, which of old
Aurora to divine Astræus bore,

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Owns; and your aid beseecheth. When the might
Of Hyperion, from his noontide throne,
Unbends their languid pinions, aid from you
They ask: Favonius and the mild South-west
From you relief implore. Your sallying streams
Fresh vigour to their weary wings impart.
Again they fly, disporting; from the mead
Half ripen'd and the tender blades of corn,
To sweep the noxious mildew; or dispel
Contagious streams, which oft the parched Earth
Breathes on her fainting sons. From noon to eve,
Along the river and the paved brook,
Ascend the cheerful breezes: hail'd of bards
Who, fast by learned Cam, the Æolian lyre
Solicit; nor unwelcome to the youth
Who on the heights of Tibur, all inclin'd
O'er rushing Anio, with a pious hand
The reverend scene delineates, broken fanes,
Or tombs, or pillar'd aqueducts, the pomp
Of ancient Time; and haply, while he scans
The ruins, with a silent tear revolves
The fame and fortune of imperious Rome.

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You too, O Nymphs, and your unenvious aid The rural powers confess; and still prepare For you their choicest treasures. Pan commands, Oft as the Delian king with Sirius holds The central heavens, the father of the grove Commands his Dryads over your abodes To spread their deepest umbrage. Well the god Remembereth how indulgent ye supplied Your general dews to nurse them in their prime. Pales, the pasture's queen, where'er ye stray, Pursues your steps, delighted; and the path With living verdure clothes. Around your haunts The laughing Chloris, with profuseth hand, Throws wide her blooms, her odours. Stili with you Pomona seeks to dwell: and o'er the lawns, 81

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And o'er the vale of Richmond, where with Thames Ye love to wander, Amalthea pours

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Well-pleas'd the wealth of that Ammonian horn,
Her dower; unmindful of the fragrant isles
Nysæan or Atlantic. Nor canst thou,
(Albeit oft, ungrateful, thou dost mock
The beverage of the sober Naiad's urn,
O Bromius, O Lenæan) nor canst thou
Disown the powers whose bounty, ill repaid,
With nectar feeds thy tendrils. Yet from me,
Yet, blameless Nymphs, from my delighted lyre,
Accept the rites your bounty well may claim,
Nor heed the scoffings of the Edonian band.
For better praise awaits you. Thames your sire,
As down the verdant slope your duteous rills
Descend, the tribute stately Thames receives,
Delighted; and your piety applauds ;
And bids his copious tide roll on secure,
For faithful are his daughters; and with words
Auspicious gratulates the bark which, now
His banks forsaking, her adventurous wings
Yields to the breeze, with Albion's happy gifts
Extremest isles to bless. And oft at morn,
When Hermes, from Olympus bent o'er Earth
To bear the words of Jove, on yonder hill
Stoops lightly-sailing; oft intent your springs
He views and waving o'er some new-born stream
His blest pacific wand, " And yet," he cries, 109
"Yet," cries the son of Maia, though recluse
And silent be your stores, from you, fair Nymphs,
Flows wealth and kind society to men.
By you my function and, my honour'd name
Do I possess; while o'er the Boetic vale,
Or through the towers of Memphis, or the palms
By sacred Ganges water'd, I conduct
The English merchant: with the buxom fleece
Of fertile Ariconium while I clothe
Sarmatian kings; or to the household gods
Of Syria, from the bleak Cornubian shore,
Dispense the mineral treasure which of old
Sidonian pilots sought, when this fair land
Was yet unconscious of those generous arts
Which wise Phoenicia from their native clime
Transplanted to a more indulgent Heaven."

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Such are the words of Hermes: such the praise, O Naiads, which from tongues celestial waits Your bounteous deeds. From bounty issueth power: And those who, sedulous in prudent works, Relieve the wants of nature, Jove repays With noble wealth, and his own seat on Earth, Fit judgments to pronounce, and curb the might Of wicked men. Your kind unfailing urns Not vainly to the hospitable arts Of Hermes yield their store. For, O ye Nymphs, Hath he not won the unconquerable queen Of arms to court your friendship? You she owns The fair associates who extend her sway Wide o'er the mighty deep; and grateful things Of you she uttereth, oft as from the shore 140 Of Thames, or Medway's vale, or the green banks Of Vecta, she her thundering navy leads To Calpe's foaming channel, or the rough Cantabrian surge; her auspices divine Imparting to the senate and the prince Of Albion, to dismay barbaric kings, The Iberian, or the Celt. The pride of kings Was ever scorn'd by Pallas: and of old Rejoic'd the virgin, from the brazen prow Of Athens o'er Agina's gloomy surge, To drive her clouds and storms; o'erwhelming all

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