Juftice with fteady brow, TrimPlenty,laurcat Peace, and green-hair'dCom

merce,

In flowing veft of thousand hues. Fain would I fhadow out old Bourbon's pile Tott'ring with doubtful weight, and threat'ning cumb'rous fall;

Or trace our navy, where in tow'ring pride O'er the wide-fwelling wafte it rolls avengeful.

As when collected clouds

Forth from the gloomy fouth, in deep array, Athwart the dark 'ning landfcape throng, Fraught with loud ftorms, and thunder's dreadful peal,

At which the murd'rer ftands aghaft, And wafting Riot ill diffembles terror.

How headlong Rhone and Ebro, erft diftain'd With Moorish carnage, quakes thro' all her branches!

Soon fhall I greet the morn, When Europe fav'd, Britain and George's name, Shall found o'er Flandria's level field, Familiar in domeftic merriment;

Or by the jolly mariner

Be carol'd loud adown the echoing Danube.

The just memorial of fair deeds Still flourishes, and, like th' untainted foul, Bloffoms in fresheft age, above The weary flesh, and envy's rankling wound. Such, after years mature,

In full account fhall be thy meed.

Oh may your rifing hope Well principled in ev'ry virtue bloom! Till a freth-fpringing flock implore With infant hands a grandfire's pow'rful pray'r, Or round your honour'd couch their prattling fports pursue.

§ 114. Ode to Melancholy. OGILVIE. HAIL, queen of thought fublime! propitious

pow'r,

Who o'er th' unbounded waste art joy'd to roam,
Led by the moon, when at the midnight hour
Her pale rays tremble thro' the dusky gloom.
O bear me, goddefs, to thy peaceful feat!
Whether to Hecla's cloud-wrapt brow convey'd,
Or lodg'd where mountains fereen thy deep re-
treat,

Or wand'ring wild thro' Chili's boundless fhade.
Say, rove thy fteps o'er Lybia's naked waste ?
Or feck fome diftant folitary fhore ?
Or, on the Andes' topmoft mountain plac'd,
Doft fit, and hear the folemn thunder roar?
Fix'd on fome hanging rock's projected brow,
Hear'ft thou low murmurs from the diftant dome?
Or ftray thy feet where pale dejected Woe
Pours her long wail from fome lamented tomb?
Hark! yon deep echo ftrikes the trembling ear!
See night's dun curtain, wraps the dark fome pole!
O'er heaven's blue arch you rolling worlds ap-

O lead my fteps beneath the moon's dim ray,
Where Tadmor ftands all defert and alone!
While from her time-fhook tow'rs the bird of
prey

Sounds thro' the night her long-refounding moan.
Or bear me far to yon dark dismal plain,
Where fell-eyed tygers, all athirst for blood,
Howl to the defart; while the horrid train
Roams o'er the wild where once great Babel
ftood;

That queen
of nations! whofe fuperior call
Rous'd the broad Eaft, and bid her arms deftroy!
When warm'd to mirth, let judgment mark her fall,
And deep reflection dath the lip of joy.

Short is Ambition's gay deceitful dream; Though wreaths of blooming laurel bind her brow;

Calm thought difpels the vifionary scheme, And Time's cold breath diffolves the withering bough.

Slow as fome miner faps th'afpiring tow'r, When working fecret with deftructive aim, Unfeen, unheard, thus moves the stealing hour, But works the fall of empire, pomp, and name. Then let thy pencil mark the traits of man; Full in the draught be keen-eyed Hope por tray'd:

Let flutt'ring Cupids crowd the growing plan: Then give one touch, and dash it deep with fhade. Beneath the plume that flames with glancing

rays

Be Care's deep engines on the foul imprefs'd;
Beneath the helmet's keen refulgent blaze
Let Grief fit pining in the canker'd breast.
Let Love's gay fons, a fimiling train, appear,
With Beauty pierc'd-yet heedlefs of the dart;
While, clofely couch'd, pale fick ning Envy near
Whets her fell fting, and points it at the heart.
Perch'd like a raven on some blafsted yew,
Let Guilt revolve the thought-diftracting fin;
Scar'd-while her eyes furvey th' ethereal blue,
Left heaven's ftrong lightning burst the dark
within.

Then paint impending o'er the maddening deep That rock where heart-ftruck Sappho, vainly brave,

Stood firm of foul-then from the dizzy fteep
Impetuous fprung, and dash'd the boiling wave.
Here wrapt in ftudious thought let Fancy rove,
Still prompt to mark Sufpicion's fecret fare;
To fee where Anguifh nips the bloom of Love,
Or trace proud Grandeur to the domes of Care.
Should e'er Ambition's tow'ring hopes inflame,
Let judging Reafon draw the veil afide;
Or, fir'd with envy at fome mighty name,
Read o'er the monument that tells-He died.
What are the enfigns of imperial fway
What all that Fortune's lib'ral hand has broug
Teach they the voice to pour a fweeter lay
O roufe the foul to more exalted thought?

W

When bleeds the heart as Genius blooms unknown,

When melts the eye o'er Virtue's mournful bier; Not wealth, but pity, fwells the bursting groan; Not pow'r, but whifp'ring Nature, prompts the

tear.

Say, gentle mourner, in yon mouldy vault,
Where the worm fattens on fome fcepter'd brow,
Beneath that roof with fculptur'd marble fraught,
Why fleeps unmov'd the breathlefs duft below?
Sleeps it more fweetly than the fimple fwain,
Beneath fome mofly turf that refts his head;
Where the lone widow tells the night her pain,
And eve with dewy tears embalms the dead?
The lily, fcreen'd from ev'ry ruder gale,
Courts not the cultur'd fpot where rofes fpring:
But blows neglected in the peaceful vale,
And fcents the zephyr's balmy breathing wing.
The busts of grandeur and the pomp of pow'r,
Can thefe bid Sorrow's gufhing tears fubfide?
Can these avail in that tremendous hour,
When Death's cold hand congeals the purple tide?
Ah no! the mighty names are heard no more:
Pride's thought fublime, and Beauty's kindling
bloom,

Serve but to fport one flying moment o'er,
And fwell with pompous verfe th' efcutcheon'd
tomb.

For me-may Paffion ne'er my foul invade, Nor be the whims of tow'ring Parenzy giv'n;

O'er

yon bleak defart's unfrequented round Seeft thou where Nature treads the deep'ning gloom,

Sits on yon hoary tow'r with ivy crown'd,
Or wildly wails o'er thy lamented tomb;
Hear'st thou the folemn mufic wind along?
Or thrills the warbling note in thy mellifluous fong?
I. 2.

Oft while on earth 'twas thine to rove
Where'er the wild-eyed goddefs lov'd to roam,
To trace ferene the gloomy grove,
Or haunt meek Quiet's simple dome;
Still hovering round the Nine appear,
That pour the foul-tranfporting strain;
Join'd to the Loves' gay train,

The loofe-rob'd Graces crown'd with flow'rs,
The light-wing'd gales that lead the vernal year,
And wake the rofy-featur'd hours.
O'er all bright Fancy's beamy radiance fhone,
How flam'd thy bofom as her charms reveal!
Her fire-clad eye fublime, her starry zone,
Her treffes loofe that wanton'd on the gale;
On thee the goddefs fix'd her ardent look,
Then from her glowing lips these melting accents
broke:
I. 3.

"To thee, my favourite fon, belong
"The lays that fteal the liftening hour;
"To pour the rapture-darting fong,
"To paint gay Hope's Elyfian bow'r.
"From Nature's hand to fnatch the dart,
"To cleave with pangs the bleeding heart;

fhade,

Where Contemplation wings the foul to Heaven!
Oh guard me fafe from Joy's enticing fnare!
With each extreme that Pleafure tries to hide,
The poifon'd breath of flow-confuming Care,
The noife of Folly, and the dreams of Pride.
But oft, when midnight's fadly folemn knell
Sounds long and diftant from the fky-topt tow'r,
Calm let me fit in Profper's lonely cell,
Or walk with Milton thro' the dark obfcure.
Thus, when the tranfient dream of life is fled,
May fome fad friend recal the former years;
Then, ftretch'd in filence o'er my dufty bed,
Pour the warm guth of fympathetic tears!

115. Ode to the Genius of Shakespeare.
OGILVIE.
I. I.

RAPT from the glance of mortal eye,
Say, burfts thy Genius to the world of light?
Secks it you ftar-befpangled sky?
Or fkims its fields with rapid flight?
Or, mid yon plains where Fancy trays,
Courts it the balmy breathing gale ?
Or where the violet pale

Droops o'er the green-embroider'd stream;
Or where young Zephyr ftirs the rufiling (prays,
Lies all diffolv'd in fairy dream.

"And call the Loves with purple wing "From the blue deep, where they dwell "With Naiads in the pearly cell, "Soft on the fea-born goddefs gaze t; "Or in the loofe robe's floating maze, "Diffolv'd in downy flumbers reft; "Or flutter o'er her panting breast. "Or wild to melt the yielding foul, "Let Sorrow, clad in fable ftole, "Slow to thy mufing thought appear; "Or penfive Pity pale; "Or Love's defponding tale [tear." "Call from th' intender'd heart the fympathetic

II. I.

Say, whonce the magic of thy mind?
Why thrills thy mulic on the fprings of thought?
Why, at thy pencil's touch refin'd,
Starts into life the glowing draught?
On yonder fairy carpet laid,
Where beauty pours eternal bloom,
And zephyr breathes perfume;
There nightly to the tranced eye
Profufe the radiant goddess ftood difplay'd,
With all her fmiling offspring nigh.
Sudden the mantling cliff, the arching wood,
The broider'd mead, the landikip, and the grove,
Hills, vales, and fky-dipt feas, and torrents rude,
Grots, rills, and fhades, and bow'rs that breath'd
of love,

The pale-eyed Genius of the fhade

Led thy bold step to Profper's magic bow'r;
Whofe voice the howling winds obey'd,
Whofe dark spell chain'd the rapid hour:
Then rofe ferene the fea-girt ifle;
Gay fcenes, by Fancy's touch refin'd,
Glow'd to the mufing mind:

Such vifions blefs the hermit's dream,
When hovering angels prompt his placid fmile,
Or paint fome high ecstatic theme.

Then flam'd Miranda on th' enraptur'd gaze,
Then fail'd bright Ariel on the bat's fleet wing:
Or ftarts the lining throng in ftill amaze,
The wild note trembling on th' aërial string!
The form, in Heaven's refplendent vefture gay,
Floats on the mantling cloud, and pours the
melting lay **.

II. 3.
Oh lay me near yon limpid ftream,
Whole murmur foothes the ear of woe!
There in fome fweet poetic dream
Let Fancy's bright Elyfium glow!
'Tis done-o'er all the blufhing mead
The dark wood fhakes his cloudy head;
Below, the lily-fringed dale

Breathes its mild fragrance on the gale;
While, in paftime all-unseen,
Titania rob'd in mantle green
Sports on the moffy-bank: her train
Skims light along the gleaming plain;
Or to the flutt'ring breeze unfold

The blue wing ftreak'd with beamy gold;
Its pinions op'ning to the light!-
Say, bursts the vifion on my fight?
Ah, no! by Shakespeare's pencil drawn,
The beauteous fhapes appear;
While meek-eyed Cynthia near
Illumes with ftreamy ray the filver-mantled lawn†.

III. I.

But, hark! the tempeft howls afar!
Burfts the loud whirlwind o'er the pathlefs waste!
What cherub blows the trump of war?
What demon rides the ftormy blast?
Red from the lightning's livid blaze,
The bleak heath rufhes on the fight;
Then wrapt in fudden night
Diffolves. But, ah! what kingly form
Roams the lone defart's defolated maze
Unaw'd, nor heeds the fweeping ftorm?
Ye pale-eyed lightnings, fpare the cheek of age!
Vain with! tho' anguifh heaves the bursting groan,
Deaf as the flint, the marble ear of rage
Hears not the mourner's unavailing moan:
Heart-pierc'd he bleeds; and, ftung with wild
defpair,
[hair.
Bares his time-blasted head, and tears his filver

* Ariel: fee the Tempeft.

III. 2.

Lo! on yon long-refounding fhore,
Where the rock totters o'er the headlong deep;
What phantoms bath'd in infant gore
Stand mutt'ring on the dizzy steep!
Their murmur fhakes the zephyr's wing!
The ftorm obeys their pow'rful spell;
See, from his gloomy cell

Fierce Winter ftarts! his fcowling eye
Blots the fair mantle of the breathing Spring,
And lowers along the ruffled fky.

To the deep vault the yelling harpies run §;
Its yawning mouth receives th' infernal crew.
Dim thro' the black gloom winks the glimmering
fun,

And the pale furnace gleams with brimstone blue,
Hell howls; and fiends that join the dire acclaim
Dance on the bubbling tide, and point the livid
flame.

III. 3.

But, ah! on Sorrow's cyprefs bough
Can Beauty breathe her genial bloom?
On Death's cold cheek will paffion glow?
Or Mufic warble from the tomb?
There fleeps the Bard, whofe tuneful tongue
Pour'd the full ftream of mazy fong.
Young Spring, with lip of tuby, here
Show'rs from her lap the blufhing year;
While along the turf reclin'd,

The loofe wing fwimming on the wind,
The Loves, with forward gefture bold,
Sprinkle the fod with fpangling gold;
And oft the blue-eyed Graces trim
Dance lightly round on downy limb;
Oft too, when eve demure and still
Chequers the green dale's purling rill,
Sweet Fancy pours the plaintive strain ;
Or, wrapt in foothing dream,
By Avon's ruffled stream,

[plain. Hears the low-murmuring gale that dies along the

THOU who, mid the world-involving gloom,
Sit'ft on yon folitary spire!

Or flowly fhak'ft the founding dome,
Or hear'ft the wildly-warbling lyre;
Say, when thy mufing foul

Bids diftant times unroll,

And marks the flight of each revolving year,
Of
years whofe flow-confuming pow'r
Has clad with mofs yon leaning tow'r,
That faw the race of Glory run,
That mark'd Ambition's fetting fun,
That shook old Empire's tow'ring pride,
That swept them down the floating tide-
Say, when thefe long-unfolding fcenes appear,
Streams down thy hoary check the pity-darting

tear?

I. 2.

Or waving woods detain the fight

Yon hill, whofe gold-illumin'd brow,
Just trembling thro' the bending fky,
O'erlooks the boundlefs wild below;
Once bore the branching wood
That o'er yon murm'ring flood
Hung wildly waving to the ruftling gale;
The naked heath with mofs o'ergrown,
That hears the lone owl's nightly moan,
Once bloom'd with fummer's copious store,
Once rais'd the lawn-befpangling flow'r ;
Or heard fome lover's plaintive lay,
When by pale Cynthia's filver ray

All wild he wander'd o'er the lonely dale,
And taught the lift'ning moon the melancholy tale.

1. 3.

Ye wilds where heaven-rapt Fancy roves
Ye fky-crown'd hills, and folemn groves
Ye low-brow'd vaults, ye gloomy cells!
Ye caves where night-bred Silence dwells!
Ghofts that in you lonely hall
Lightly glance along the wall;
Or beneath von ivy'd tow'r,
At the filent midnight hour,
Stand array'd in fpotlefs white,
And ftain the dufky robe of Night;
Or with flow folemn paufes roam
O'er the long-founding hollow dome!
Say, mid yon defart folitary round,

When darkness wraps the boundless fpheres,
Does ne'er fome difmal dying found
On Night's dull ferious car rebound, [years
That mourns the ccafelefs lapfe of life-confuming

II. 1.

O call th' infpiring glorious hour to view, When Caledonia's martial train

[flight:

From yon fteep rock's high-arching brow
Pour'd on the heart-ftruck flying Danc!
When War's blood-tinétur'd spear
Hung o'er the trembling rear;
When light-heel'd Terror wing'd their headlong
Yon tow'rs then rung with wild alarms!
Yon defart gleam'd with fhining arms!
While on the bleak hill's bright'ning fpire
Bold Vict'ry flam'd, with eyes of fire;
Her limbs celestial robes infold,

Her wings were ting'd with fpangling gold,
She fpoke-her words infus'd refiftlefs might,
And warm'd the bounding heart, and rous'd the
foul of fight.

II.

2.

Some cloud fweeps fhadowy o'er the dufky fkies, And wraps the flying scene, that fades, and swims,

and dies.

II. 3.

Lo! rifing from von dreary tomb,
What fpectres ftalk across the gloom!
With haggard eyes, and vifage pale,
And voice that moans with feeble wail!
O'er yon long refounding plain
Slowly moves the folemn train;
Wailing wild with fhricks of woe
O'er the bones that reft below!
While the dull night's startled car
Shrinks, aghaft with thrilling fear
Or ftand with thin robes waiting foon,
And cyes that blaft the fick'ning moon!
Yet thefe, ere Time had roll'd their years away,
Ere Death's fell arm had mark'd its aim;
Rul'd yon proud tow'rs with ample iway,
Bebeld the trembling fwains obey:

And wrought the glorious deed that fwell'd the trump of Fame.

III. I.

But why o'er thefe indulge the bursting figh
Feels not each fhrub the tempeft's pow'r ?
Rocks not the dome when whirlwinds fly?
Nor thakes the hill when thunders roar?
Lo! mould'ring, wild, unknown,

What fanes, what tow'rs o'erthrown,
What tumbling chaos marks the watte of Time!
I fee Palmyra's temples fall;
Old Ruin shakes the hanging wall!
Yon wafte where roaming lions howl,
Yon aifle where moans the grey-eyed owl,
Shows the proud Perfian's great abode
Where fcepter'd once, an earthly god!
His pow'r-clad arm controul'd each happier clime,
Where fports the warbling Mufe, and Fancy foars
fublime.

III. 2.

Hark! what dire found rolls murm'ring on the
Ah! what foul-thrilling fcene appears? [gale?
I fee the column'd arches fail!
And ftructures hoar, the boaft of years!
What mould'ring piles decay'd
Gleam thro' the moon-streak'd fhade,
Where Rome's proudGeniusrear dherawful brow!
Sad monument!- -Ambition near

Rolls on the duft, and pours a tear;
Pale Honour drops the flutt'ring plume,

What voice recals th' expiring day?

Sce, darting fwift on eagle-wings,
The glancing moment burfts away!
So from fome mountain's head,

In mantling gold array'd,

While bright-eyed Fancy ftands in fweet surprise:
The vale where mufing Quiet treads,
The flow'r-clad lawns, and bloomy meads,
O ftreams where zephyr loves to ftray
Beneath the pale eve's twinking ray;

On the steep height waste and bare,
Stands the pow'r with hoary hair!
O'er his fcythe he bends; his hand
Slowly shakes the flowing fand,
While the hours, and airy ring,
Lightly flit with downy wing,

And fap the works of man; and fhade

With filver'd locks his furrow'd head;

Where, thro' the mantling boughs, afar
Glimmers the filver-ftreaming itar;
And, fhower'd from ev'ry ruftling blade,
The loofe light floats along the shade:
So hov'ring o'er the human scene
Gay Pleafure fports with brow ferene;
By Fancy beam'd, the glancing ray
Shoots, Hutters, gleams, and fleets away:

And feals the nations awful doom :

He fees proud grandeur's meteor ray;
He yields to joy the feftive day;

Then fweeps the length'ning fhade, and marks them for the tomb.

OGILVIE.

$117. Ode to Evening. MEEK Pow'r, whofe balmy-pinion'd gale

Steals o'er the flow'r-enamell'd dale!
Whofe voice in gentle whifpers near
Oft fighs to Quiet's lift'ning ear;
As on her downy couch at reft,
By Thought's infpiring vifions bleft
She fits, with white-rob'd Silence nigh,
And mufing heaves her ferious eye,
To mark the flow fun's glimm'ring ray,
To catch the laft pale gleam of day;
Or funk in fweet repofe, unknown
Lies on the wild hill's van alone;
And fees thy gradual pencil flow
Along the heaven-iliumin'd bow.

Come, Nymph demure, with mantle blue,
Thy treffes bath'd in balmy dew,
With step smooth fliding o'er the green,
The graces breathing in thy mien;
And thy vefture's gather'd fold
Girt with a zone of circling gold;
And bring the harp, whofe folemn string
Dies to the wild wind's murm'ring wing;
And the Nymph, whofe eye ferene
Marks the calm, breathing woodland scene;
Thought, mountain fage! who loves to climb,
And haunts the dark rock's fummit dim;
Let Fancy falcon-wing'd be near:
And through the cloud-envelop'd fphere,
Where mufing roams Retirement hoar,
Lull'd by the torrent's diftant roar,
Oh bid with trembling light to glow
The raven-plume that crowns his brow.
Lo, where thy meek-eyed train attend!
Queen of the folemn thought, descend !
Oh hide me in romantic bow'rs!
Or lead my step to ruin'd tow'rs!
Where gleaming thro' the chinky door
The pale ray gilds the moulder'd floor:
While beneath the hallow'd pile,

Deep in the desart shrieking ile,
Rapt Contemplation stalks along,
And hears the flow clock's pealing tongue;
Or, mid the dun difcolour'd gloom,
Sits on fome hero's peaceful tomb,
Throws Life's gay glitt'ring robe aside,
And tramples on the neck of Pride.

Oft fhelter'd by the rambling fprays,
Lead o'er the foreft's winding maze;

Floats all the buty bustling mind; While Memory's unftain'd leaves retain No trace from all th' ideal train.

But fee the landfkip op'ning fair Invites to breathe the purer air! Oh when the cowflip-fcented gale Shakes the light dew-drop o'er the dale, When on her amber-dropping bed Loofe Eafe reclines her downy head; How bleft! by fairy-haunted stream To melt in wild ecftatic dream; Die to the pictur'd with, or hear (Breath'd foft on Fancy's trembling ear) Such lays by angel-harps refin'd, As half unchain the flutt'ring mind, When on life's edge it eyes the shore, And all its pinions ftretch to foar.

Lo! where the fun's broad orb withdrawn
Skirts with pale gold the dufky lawn;
While, led by ev'ry gentler pow'r,
Steals the flow, folemn, mufing hour.
Now from the green hill's purple brow
Let me mark the feene below;
Where feebly glancing thro' the gloom
Yon myrtle fhades the filent tomb:
Not far, beneath the evening beam
The dark lake rolls his azure ftream,
Whofe breaft the fwan's white plumes divide.
Slow-failing o'er the floating tide.
Groves, meads, and fpires, and forefts bare,
Shoot glimm'ring thro' the mifty air;
Dim as the vifion-pictur'd bow'r
That gilds the faint's expiring hour,
When, rapt to ecftafy, his eye
Looks thro' the blue ethereal sky.
All heaven unfolding to his fight!
Gay forms that fwim in floods of light!
The fun-pav'd floor, the balmy clime,
The ruby-beaming dome fublime,
The tow'rs in glitt'ring pomp difplay'd—
The bright fcene hovers o'er his bed
He ftarts but from his eager gaze
Black clouds obfcure the lefferfing rays;
On mem'ry ftill the fcene is wrought,
And lives in Fancy's featur'd thought.

On the airy mount reclin'd
What wishes foothe the mufing mind!
How foft the velvet lap of Spring!
How fweet the Zephyr's violet wing!
Goddefs of the plaintive fong,
That leads the melting heart along;
Oh bid thy voice of genial pow'r
Reach Contemplation's lonely bow'r;
And call the fage with tranced fight
To climb the mountain's steepy height;

T.