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s À N G. AT setting day and rising morn,
1 Wi' soul that still shall love thee, I'll ask of heav'n thy safe return,
Wi' a' that can improve thee. I'll visit aft the birken bush,
Where first thou kindly tald me Sweet tales of love, and hid my blush,
Wbilst round thou didst enfald me. To a' our haunts I will repair,
By greenwood shaw or fountain;
Wi' thee upon yon mountain.
From thoughts unfeign'd and tender,
A heart which cannot wander.
S A N G. THE bonny grey-ey'd morning begins to peep,
And darkness flies before the rising ray, The hearty hynd starts from his lazy sleep,
To follow healthful labours of the day, Without guilty sting to wrinkle his brow,
The lark and the linnet 'tend his levee, And he joins their concert, driving the plow,
From toil of grimace and pageantry free.
Of half an estate, the prey of a main,
Wishing for calmness and slumber in vain.
Plac'd at a due distance from parties and state, Where neither ambition for avarice blind, Reach him who has happiness link'd to his fate.
An Ode for Music.
While yet in early Greece she sung,
Amid the chords bewilder'd laid,
In lightnings own'd his secret stings,
And swept with hurried hand the strings. With woeful measures, wan Despair,
Low sullen sounds, his grief beguil'd;
'Twas sad by fits, by starts 'twas wild.
And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail;
And from the rocks, the woods, the vale,
And where her sweetest theme she chose,
A soft responsive voice was heard at every close, And Hope enchanted smil'd, and wav'd her golden
hair. And longer had she sung-but, with a frown,
Revenge impatient rose,
And, with a withering look,
And ever and anon he beat
The doubling drum with furious heat; And tho' sometimes, each dreary pause between,
Dejected Pity at his side Her soul-subduing voice applied, Yet still he kept his wild unalter'd mien; While each strain'd ball of sight seem'd bursting from
his head. Thy numbers, Jealousy, to nought were fix'd,
Sad proof of thy distressful state! of differing themes the veering song was mix'd, And now it courted Love, now raving call'd on
Hate. With eyes uprais'd, as one inspir'd, Pale Melancholy sat retir'd, And from her wild sequester'd seat, In notes by distance made more sweet, Pour'd thro' the mellow horn her pensive soul:
And dashing soft from rocks around, Bubbling runnels join'd the sound; Thro' glades and glooms the mingled measures stole Or o'er some haunted streams with fond delay,
Round an holy calm diffusing,
Love of peace, and lonely musing, In hollow murmurs died away.
But, o, how alter'd was its sprightlier tone! . When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue, a
Her bow across her shoulder flung, Her buskins gemm'd with morning dew, Blew an aspiring air, that dale and thicket rung, .
The hunter's call to Faun and Dryad known; The oak-crown's 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 leap'd up, and siez'd his beechen spear.
Last came Joy's ecstatic trial.
First to the lively pipe his hand address'd,
Amidst the festal sounding shades,
And he, amidst his frolic play,
O Music, sphere-descended maid,
Thy wonders, in that godlike age,
ODE TO FEAR. THOU, to whom the world unknown,
1 With all its shadowy shapes, is shewn; Who seest, appall'd, the unreal scene, While Fancy lifts the veil between :
Ah Fear! ah frantic Fear!
I see, I see thee near. I know thy hurried step; thy haggard eye! Like thee I start; like thee disorder'd fly. For lo, what monsters in thy train appear! Danger, whose limbs of giant mould What mortal eye can fix'd behold? Who stalks his round, an hideous form, Howling amidst the midnight storm; Or throws him on the ridgy steep Of some loose hanging rock to sleep: And with him thousand phantoms join'd, Who prompt to deeds accurs'd the mind : And those, the fiends, who, near allied, O'er Nature's wounds, and wrecks, preside; Whilst Vengeance, in the lurid air, Lifts her red arm, expos'd and bare : On whom that ravening brood of Fate Who lap the blood of sorrow wait: