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. So long, regardful of thy quiet rule,
ODE TO LIBERTY.
strophe, Who shall awake the Spartan fife,
ot And call in solemn sounds to life, The youths, whose locks divinely spreading, Like vernal hyacinths in sullen hue, s At once the breath of fear and virtue shedding, o Applauding Freedom lov'd of old to view 7 What new Alceus, fancy-blest, Shall sing the sword, in myrtles drest, At Wisdom's shrine awhile its flame concealing, , (What place so fit to seal a deed renown'd?) o Till she her brightest lightnings round revealing,
It leap'd in glory forth, and dealt her prompted wound ! 0 goddess, in that feeling hour, When most its sounds would court thy ears, Let not my shell's misguided power o Eer draw thy sad, thy mindful tears. No, Freedom, no, I will not tell, How Rome, before thy face, With heaviest sound, a giant-statue, fell, Push'd by a wild and artless race, From off its wide ambitious base, When Time his northern sons of spoil awoke, And all the blended work of strength and grace With many a rude repeated stroke, [broke. And many a barbarous yell, to thousand fragments
Yet, e'en where'er the least appear'd * Th admiring world thy hand rever'd; Still, 'midst the scatter'd states around, * Some remnants of her strength were found; They saw, by what escap'd the storm, How wondrous rose her perfect form; How in the great, the labour'd whole, * *ch mighty master pour'd his soul; * For sunny Florence, seat of Art, Beneath her vines preserv'd a part, Till they, whom Science lov'd to name, (0, who could fear it!) quench'd her flame. & And, lo, an humbler relic laid * Injealous Pisa's olive shade! * small Marino joins the theme, Though least, not last in thy esteem; *ike, louder strike th' ennobling strings To those, whose merchants sons were kings; To him, who, deck'd with pearly pride, | Adria weds his green-hair'd bride: Hill, port of glory, wealth, and pleasure, Noerlet me change this Lydian measure: * Not e'er her former pride relate so To sad Liguria's bleeding state. Ah, no! more pleas'd thy haunts I seek, On wild Helvetia's mountains bleak: (Where, when the favour'd of thy choice, The daring archer heard thy voice; Forth from his eyrie rous'd in dread, ravening eagle northward fled.)
Or dwell in willow'd meads more near,
Beyond the measure vast of thought,
Then too, 'tis said, an hoary pile, "Midst the green navel of our isle,
• The Dutch, amongst whom there are very severe penalties for those who are convicted of killing this bird. They are kept tame in almost all their towns, and particularly at the Hague, of the arms of which they make a part. The common people of Holland are said to entertain a superstitious sentiment, that if the whole species of them should become extinct, they should lose their liberties.
# This tradition is mentioned by several of our old historians. Some naturalists, too, have endeavoured to support the probability of the fact, by arguments drawn from the correspondent disposition of the two opposite coasts. I do not remember that any poetical use has been hitherto made of it.
# There is a tradition in the Isle of Man, that a mermaid, becoming enamoured of a young man of extraordinary beauty, took an opportunity of meeting him one day as he walked on the shore, and opened her passion to him, but was received with a coldness, occasioned by his horrour and surprise at her appearance. This, however, was so misconstrued by the sea-lady, that, in revenge for his treatment of her, she punished the whole island, by covering it with a mist, so that all who attempted to carry on any commerce with it, either never arrived at it, but wandered up and down the sea, or were on a sudden wrecked upon its cliffs.
Thy shrine in some religious wood,
Rage drops his steel, and storms grow calm;
Her let our sires and matrons hoar
an one fort Music.
WHEN Music, heavenly maid, was young,
But thou, O Hope, with eyes so fair,
Thy numbers, Jealousy, to nought were fix’d,
With eyes up-rais'd, as one inspir'd,
The hunter's call to Faun and Dryad known; The oak-crown'd sisters, and their chaste-ey'd queen, Satyrs and sylvan boys were seen, Peeping from forth their alleys green; Brown Exercise rejoic'd to hear, And Sport leapt up, and seiz'd his beechen spear. Last came Joy's ecstatic trial, He, with viny crown advancing, First to the lively pipe his hand addrest, But soon he saw the brisk-awakening viol, Whose sweet entrancing voice he lov'd the best. They would have thought, who heard the strain, They saw in Tempé's vale her native maids, Amidst the festal sounding shades, To some unwearied minstrel dancing, While, as his flying fingers kiss'd the strings, Love fram'd with Mirth a gay fantastic round, Loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound, And he, amidst his frolic play, As if he would the charming air repay, Shook thousand odours from his dewy wings.
O Music, sphere-descended maid, Friend of pleasure, wisdom's aid, Why, goddess, why to us denied, Lay'st thou thy ancient lyre aside? As in that lov'd Athenian bower, sou learn'd an all-commanding power, Thy mimic soul, O nymph endear'd, Can well recall what then it heard. Where is thy native simple heart, Devote to virtue, fancy, art? Arise, as in that elder time, Warm, energic, chaste, sublime ! Thy wonders, in that god-like age, Fill thy recording sister's page— 'T is said, and I believe the tale, Thy humblest reed could more prevail, Had more of strength, diviner rage, Than all which charms this laggard age, E’en all at once together found Caecilia's mingled world of sound— O, bid our vain endeavours cease, Revive the just designs of Greece, Return in all thy simple state Confirm the tales her sons relate!
DIRGE IN CYMBELINE.
sursa EY GUIDER Us AND ARVIRAGUs over FIDELE, supposed to be DEAD. To fair Fidele's grassy tomb Soft maids and village hinds shall bring Each opening sweet, of earliest bloom, And rifle all the breathing Spring.
No wailing ghost shall dare appear
But shepherd lads assemble here,
No wither'd witch shall here be seen, No goblins lead their nightly crew;
The female says shall haunt the green, And dress thy grave with pearly dew.
The red-breast oft at evening hours
With hoary moss, and gather'd flowers,
When howling winds, and beating rain,
Or 'midst the chase on every plain,
Each lonely scene shall thee restore,
Belov'd, till life can charm no more ;
POPULAR SUPERSTITIONS OF THE HIGHLANDs of scot LAND;
CONSIDERED As THE SUBJECT OF POETRY.
INSCRIBED To M.R. John Homi E.
Hoxie, thou return'st from Thames, whose Naiads
There must thou wake perforce thy Doric quill;
E’en yet preserv'd, how often mayst thou hear,
Strange lays, whose power had charm'd a Spenser's
ear. At every pause, before thy mind possest, Old Runic bards shall seem to rise around, With uncouth lyres, in many-colour'd vest, Their matted hair with boughs fantastic crown'd: Whether thou bidd'st the well-taught hind repeat The choral dirge that mourns some chieftain brave, When every shrieking maid her bosom beat, And strew'd with choicest herbs his scented grave; Or, whether sitting in the shepherd's shiel, Thou hear'st some sounding tale of war's alarms; When at the bugle's call, with fire and steel, The sturdy clans pour'd forth their brawny swarms, And hostile brothers met, to prove each other's arms.
'T is thine te sing, how, framing hideous spells,
To monarchs dear, some hundred miles astray,
* By young Aurora, Collins undoubtedly meant the first appearance of the northern lights, which happened about the year 1715; at least, it is most highly probable, from this peculiar circumstance, that no ancient writer whatever has taken any no. tice of them, nor even any one modern, previous to the above period.
t Second sight is the term that is used for the divination of the Highlanders.
# The late Duke of Cumberland, who defeated the Pretender at the battle of Culloden.
These, too, thou'lt sing' for well thy magic Muse Can to the topmost heaven of grandeur soar; Or stoop to wail the swain that is no more!
Ah, homely swains! your homeward steps ne'er
ose; Let not dank Will $ mislead you to the heath: Dancing in mirky night, o'er fen and lake, He glows, to draw you downward to your death, In his bewitch'd, low, marshy, willow brake! What though far off, from some dark dellespied, His glimmering mazes cheer th' excursive sight, Yet turn, ye wanderers, turn your steps aside, Nor trust the guidance of that faithless light; For watchful, lurking, 'mid th' unrustling reed, At those mirk hours the wily monster lies, And listens oft to hear the passing steed, And frequent round him rolls his sullen eyes If chance his savage wrath may some weak wield surprise.
Ah, luckless swain, o'er all unblest, indeed!
For him in vain his anxious wife shall wait, Or wander forth to meet him on his way; For him in vain, at to-fall of the day,
His babes shall linger at th' unclosing gate:
Ah, ne'er shall he return Alone, if night
From their rude rocks, extend her skirting #.
Round the moist marge of each cold isle, s A fiery meteor, called by various name. ** as will with the wisp, Jack with the Lantern." It hovers in the air over marshy and fenny Pl" | The water-fiend.