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I. 2.

Oh! Sovereign of the willing soul,
Parent of sweet and solemn-breathing airs,
Enchanting shell! the sullen Cares

And frantic Passions hear thy soft controul.
On Thracia's hills the Lord of War
Has curb'd the fury of his car,

And drop'd his thirsty lance at thy command.
Perching on the sceptred hand

Of Jove, thy magic lulls the feather'd king
With ruffled plumes, and flagging wing:
Quench'd in dark clouds of slumber lie

The terror of his beak, and light'nings of his eye.

I. 3.

Thee the voice, the dance, obey,

Temper'd to thy warbled lay.

O'er Idalia's velvet-green

The rosy-crowned Loves are seen

On Cytherea's day,

With antic Sports, and blue-eyed Pleasures,

Frisking light in frolic measures;

Now pursuing, now retreating,

Now in circling troops they meet:

* Power of harmony to calm the turbulent sallies of the soul.

To brisk notes in cadence beating,

Glance their many-twinkling feet.

Slow melting strains their Queen's approach declare:
Where'er she turns the Graces homage pay.

With arms sublime, that float upon the air,
In gliding state she wins her easy way:

O'er her warm cheek, and rising bosom, move

The bloom of young Desire, and purple light of Love.

II. 1.

Man's feeble race what ills* await!

Labour, and Penury, the racks of Pain,

Disease, and Sorrow's weeping train,

And Death, sad refuge from the storms of Fate!
The fond complaint, my song, disprove,
And justify the laws of Jove.

Say, has he given in vain the heav'nly Muse?
Night, and all her sickly dews,

Her spectres wan, and birds of boding cry,
He gives to range the dreary sky:

Till down the eastern cliffs afar

Hyperion's march they spy, and glitt'ring shafts of war.

* To compensate the real and imaginary ills of life, the Muse was given to mankind by the same Providence that sends the Day by its cheerful presence to dispel the gloom and terrors of the Night.

II. 2.

In climes beyond the solar road,

Where shaggy forms o'er ice-built mountains roam,
The Muse has broke the twilight-gloom

To cheer the shivering Native's dull abode.

And oft, beneath the od❜rous shade

Of Chili's boundless forests laid,

She deigns to hear the savage Youth repeat,
In loose numbers wildly sweet,

Their feather-cinctur'd Chiefs, and dusky Loves.
Her track, where'er the Goddess roves,

Glory pursue, and generous Shame,

Th' unconquerable Mind, and Freedom's holy flame.

II. 3.

Woods, that wave o'er Delphi's steep,†

Isles, that crown th' Ægean deep,

Fields, that cool Ilissus laves,
Or where Mæander's amber waves
In lingering lab'rinths creep,
How do your tuneful Echoes languish,
Mute, but to the voice of Anguish !

* Extensive influence of poetic Genius over the remotest and most uncivilized nations: its connection with liberty, and the virtues that naturally attend on it.

+ Progress of Poetry from Greece to Italy, and from Italy to England.

Where each old poetic Mountain
Inspiration breath'd around;
Ev'ry shade and hallow'd Fountain
Murmur'd deep a solemn sound:

Till the sad Nine, in Greece's evil hour,
Left their Parnassus for the Latian plains.
Alike they scorn the pomp of tyrant Power,
And coward Vice, that revels in her chains.
When Latium had her lofty spirit lost,

They sought, oh Albion! next, thy sea-encircled coast.

III. 1.

Far from the sun and summer-gale,
In thy green lap was Nature's darling* laid,
What time, where lucid Avon stray'd,
To him the mighty mother did unveil

Her awful face: the dauntless child
Stretch'd forth his little arms, and smiled.
This pencil take (she said) whose colours clear
Richly paint the vernal year :

Thine too these golden keys, immortal Boy!
This can unlock the gates of Joy;

Of Horror that, and thrilling Fears,

Or ope the sacred source of sympathetic Tears.

* Shakspeare.

III. 2. ..

Nor second He,* that rode sublime

Upon the seraph-wings of Ecstacy,
The secrets of th' Abyss to spy.

He pass'd the flaming bounds of Place and Time:
The living Throne, the sapphire-blaze,
Where Angels tremble while they gaze,
He saw; but, blasted with excess of light,
Closed his eyes in endless night.

Behold where Dryden's less presumptuous car

Wide o'er the fields of Glory bear

Two Coursers of ethereal race,

With necks in thunder cloth'd, and long-resounding pace

III. 3.

Hark, his hands the lyre explore!

Bright-eyed Fancy, hovering o'er,

Scatters from her pictur'd urn

Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.

But ah! 'tis heard no more

Oh! Lyre divine, what daring Spirit

Wakes thee now? Though he inherit
Nor the pride, nor ample pinion,
That the Theban Eaglet bear,
Sailing with supreme dominion
Through the azure deep of air:

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