II. 3.

Woods, that wave o'er Delphi's steep,"
Ifles, that crown th' Ægean deep,

Fields, that cool Iliffus laves,

Or where Mæander's amber waves

In lingering labʼrinths creep,

How do your tuneful echoes languish,
Mute, but to the voice of anguish !

Where each old poetic mountain
Inspiration breathed around;
Ev'ry fhade and hallow'd fountain

Murmur'd deep a folemn found:

Till the fad Nine, in Greece's evil hour,
Left their Parnaffus 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 fought, oh Albion! next thy fea-encircled coast.

E

III. I.

Far from the fun and fummer-gale,

In thy green lap was Nature's Darling" laid,
What time, where lucid Avon ftray'd,

To him the mighty mother did unveil

Her awful face: the dauntless child

Stretch'd forth his little arms and fmiled.

"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 facred source of sympathetic tears.”

III. 2.

Nor fecond He," that rode fublime

Upon the seraph-wings of Extasy,

The fecrets of th' abyss to spy.

14

He pass'd the flaming 1 bounds of place and time:

The living throne, the fapphire blaze,
Where angels tremble while they gaze,

He faw; but, blasted with excess of light,

Clofed his eyes in endless night.'

Behold, where Dryden's lefs prefumptuous car,

Wide o'er the fields of glory bear

Two courfers of ethereal race,

With necks in thunder clothed," and long-refounding pace.

III. 3.

Hark, his hands the lyre explore!

Bright-eyed Fancy, hovʼring o'er,

Scatters from her pictured 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 eagle 18 bear,

Sailing with fupreme dominion

Through the azure deep of air:
Yet oft before his infant eyes would run
Such forms as glitter in the Muse's ray,
With orient hues, unborrow'd of the fun :

Yet shall he mount, and keep his distant way
Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate,

Beneath the Good how far-but far above the Great.

THE BARD.'

A PINDARIC ODE.

I. I.

UIN feize thee, ruthless King!

Confufion on thy banners wait;

Though fann'd by Conqueft's crimson wing,
They mock the air with idle ftate."

Helm, nor hauberk's' twisted mail,

Nor e'en thy virtues, Tyrant, fhall avail
To fave thy fecret foul from nightly fears,
From Cambria's curfe, from Cambria's tears!"
Such were the founds that o'er the crested pride*
Of the firft Edward fcatter'd wild difmay,
As down the steep of Snowdon's' fhaggy fide

He wound with toilfome march his long array.