Obrazy na stronie
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And natural movements of th' harmonious frame.
Besides, the sportive brook for ever shakes
The trembling air; that floats from hill to hill,
From vale to mountain, with incessant change
Of purest element, refreshing still

Your airy seat, and uninfected gods.
Chiefly for this I praise the man who builds
High on the breezy ridge, whose lofty sides
Th' ethereal deep with endless billows chafes.
His purer mansion nor contagious years
Shall reach, nor deadly putrid airs annoy.

ADDRESS TO THE NAIADS.

FROM BOOK II. ENTITLED DIET.

Now come, ye Naiads, to the fountains lead;
Now let me wander through your gelid reign.
I burn to view th' enthusiastic wilds
By mortal else untrod. I hear the din
Of waters thund'ring o'er the ruin'd cliffs.
With holy reverence I approach the rocks

Whence glide the streams renown'd in ancient song.
Here from the desert down the rumbling steep
First springs the Nile; here bursts the sounding Po
In angry waves; Euphrates hence devolves

A mighty flood to water half the east;

And there in gothic solitude reclin'd,
The cheerless Tanais pours his hoary urn.
What solemn twilight! what stupendous shades

Enwrap these infant floods! through every nerve
A sacred horror thrills, a pleasing fear

Glides o'er my frame. The forest deepens round;
And more gigantic still th' impending trees
Stretch their extravagant arms athwart the gloom.
Are these the confines of some fairy world?
A land of genii? Say, beyond these wilds
What unknown nations? If indeed beyond
Aught habitable lies. And whither leads,
To what strange regions, or of bliss or pain,
That subterraneous way? Propitious maids,
Conduct me, while with fearful steps I tread
This trembling ground. The task remains to sing
Your gifts (so Pæon, so the powers of health
Command) to praise your crystal element:
The chief ingredient in heaven's various works:
Whose flexile genius sparkles in the gem,
Grows firm in oak, and fugitive in wine;
The vehicle, the source, of nutriment
And life, to all that vegetate or live.

O comfortable streams! with eager lips
And trembling hand the languid thirsty quaff
New life in you; fresh vigour fills their veins.
No warmer cups the rural ages knew;

None warmer sought the sires of human kind.
Happy in temperate peace! their equal days
Felt not th' alternate fits of feverish mirth,
And sick dejection. Still serene and pleas'd
They knew no pains but what the tender soul
With pleasure yields to, and would ne'er forget.

Blest with divine immunity from ails,

Long centuries they liv'd; their only fate

Was ripe old age, and rather sleep than death.
Oh! could those worthies from the world of gods
Return to visit their degenerate sons,

How would they scorn the joys of modern time,
With all our art and toil improv❜d to pain!
Too happy they! but wealth brought luxury,
And luxury on sloth begot disease.

RICHARDSON,

OF QUEEN'S COLLEGE, OXFORD.

ODE TO A SINGING BIRD.

O THOU that glad'st my lonesome hours,
With many a wildly warbled song,...
When Melancholy round me low'rs,
And drives her sullen storms along;
When fell Adversity prepares

To lead her delegated train,

Pale Sickness, Want, Remorse, and Pain,
With all her host of carking cares—

The fiends ordain'd to tame the human soul,

And give the humbled heart to sympathy's control;

Sweet soother of my mis'ry, say,

Why dost thou clap thy joyous wing?
Why dost thou pour that artless lay?
How canst thou, little prisoner, sing?
Hast thou not cause to grieve

That man, unpitying man! has rent
From thee the boon which Nature meant

Thou should'st, as well as he, receive-
The pow'r to woo thy partner in the grove,
To build where instinct points, where chance directs
to rove?

Perchance, unconscious of thy fate,
And to the woes of bondage blind,
Thou never long'st to join thy mate,
Nor wishest to be unconfin'd;

Then how relentless he,
And fit for every foul offence,

Who could bereave such innocence

Of life's best blessing, Liberty!

Who lur'd thee, guileful, to his treacherous snare, To live a tuneful slave, and dissipate his care!

But why for thee this fond complaint?
Above thy master thou art blest:

Art thou not free?-Yes: calm Content
With olive sceptre sways thy breast:
Then deign with me to live;
The falcon with insatiate maw,

With hooked bill and griping claw,

Shall ne'er thy destiny contrive;

And every tabby foe shall mew in vain,

While pensively demure she hears thy melting strain.

Nor shall the fiend, fell Famine, dare

Thy wiry tenement assail;

These, these shall be my constant care,
The limpid fount, and temperate meal;
And when the blooming Spring
In chequer'd liv'ry robes the fields,
The fairest flow'rets Nature yields
To thee officious will I bring;

A garland rich thy dwelling shall entwine,
And Flora's freshest gifts, thrice happy bird, be

thine!

From drear Oblivion's gloomy cave

The powerful Muse shall wrest thy name,

And bid thee live beyond the grave

This meed she knows thy merits claim;

She knows thy liberal heart

Is ever ready to dispense
The tide of bland benevolence,

And melody's soft aid impart;

Is ready still to prompt the magic lay, Which hushes all our griefs, and charms our pains

away.

Erewhile when, brooding o'er my soul,

Frown'd the black demons of despair,

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