"And thou, by one of those still lakes That in a shining cluster lie, On which the south wind scarcely breaks A bower for thee and me hast made "And thou dost wait and watch to meet My spirit sent to join the blessed, And, wondering what detains my feet From the bright land of rest, Dost seem, in every sound, to hear The rustling of my footsteps near." ODE. 73 ODE FOR AN AGRICULTURAL CELEBRATION. FAR back in the ages, The plough with wreaths was crowned; The hands of kings and sages Entwined the chaplet round; Till men of spoil disdained the toil By which the world was nourished, Where green their laurels flourished: The guilt that stains her story; And weeps her crimes amid the cares That formed her earliest glory. The proud throne shall crumble, The tribes of earth shall humble The pride of those who reign; G The glory earned in deadly fray Through endless generations, |