ODE TO CAPTIVITY. WRITTEN IN THE LAST WAR. STERN Captivity! from Albion's land Far, far, avert the terrours of thy rod! O wave not o'er her fields thy flaming brand! O crush not Freedom, fairest child of God!Bring not from thy Gallic shore The galling fetters, groaning oar! Bring not hither Virtue's bane, Thy sister Superstition's train! O spare from sanguine rites the silver floods ! Nor haunt with shapes obscene our unpolluted woods! Is yet too weak, rapacious power, thy throne? While the chain'd continent thy vassal waits, The Rhine, the Danube, and the sounding Rhone, Proclaim thy triumphs through an hundred states. See Valentia's smiling vales Courted for thee by ocean's gales ! Through yawning vaults on Tagus' streams, Thine revenge's dagger gleams: Thy fury bursts on Rome's devoted head, In vain the Scipios liv'd, the Decii, Cato bled! Be these thy bounds-whose laws with monarchs reign, To this fair isle how impotent thy hate! Where Pitt, so righteous Heaven and George ordain, In wisdom guides the thunder of the state. Daughters of Albion! strew his paths with flowers, From haughty conquerors, barbarous war, Of cities storm'd and virgins' wrongs, There felt the daughters, parents, consorts groan, And wept historic woes, unpractis'd in your own! Have you not heard how Sion's daughters mourn'd Their prostate land?-how Greece her victims "Ye gales!" they cried, "ye cruel eastern gales! Adverse to Troy, conspiring with the foe, That eager stretch the victor's swelling sails, To what unfriendly regions will ye blow? Shall we serve on Doric plains? Or where in Pithia Pyrrhus reigns? Shall Echo catch our captive tales? Joyless in the sprightly vales Apidanus thy beauteous current laves, Say, shall we sit and dream of Simois' fairer waves? "Shall Delos, sacred Delos, hear our woes? Where when Latona's offspring sprung to birth, The palm spontaneous, and the laurel rose, O Dian, Dian, on thy hallowed earth; With Delian maids, a spotless band, At virtue's altar shall we stand And hail thy name with choral joy Invok'd in vain for falling Troy? Thy shafts victorious shall our songs proclaim, When not an arrow fled to spare thy votaries shame. "To Athens, art's fair empire, shall we rove? There for some haughty mistress ply the loom, With daring fancy paint avenging Jove, His forked lightnings faming through the glooin, To blast the bold Titanian race: Or deaf to nature, must we trace In mournful shades our hapless war ? What art, dread Pallas, to thy car, Shall yoke th' immortal steeds? what colours tell By thine, by Pyrrhus' lance, how lofty Ilion fell? Yes, cruel gods, oar bleeding country falls, Her chic fs are slain-see brothers, sires expire! Ah see, exulting o'er her prostrate walls, The victor's fury, and devouring fire ! Asia's haughty genius broke, Bows the neck to Europe's yoke, Chains are all our portion now, No festal wreaths shall bind our brow, Nor Hymen's torches light the bridal day: O Death,and black Despair, behold your destin'd prey!" IMITATION FROM OSSIAN'S POEMS. LATELY PUBLISHED BY THE TITLE OF FINGAL, &c. BROWN Autumn nods upon the mountain's head, The dark mist gathers; howling winds assail The blasted ash alone is seen, [sleeps; From the whirlwind's giddy round, Its leaves bestrew the hallowed ground. Across the musing hunter's lonesome way Flit inelancholy ghosts, that chill the dawn of day. 4 An imitation of the first chorus in the Hecuba of Euripides. Connal, thou slumber'st there, the great, the good! [trace? Thy long-fam'd ancestors what tongue can Firm, as the oak on rocky heights, they stood; Planted as firm on glory's ample base. Rooted in their native clime, Brav'd alike devouring time, And death has laid the mighty low. Here was the din of arms, and here o'erthrown Tall amidst the host, as hills His voice that shook th' astonish'd war, Was thunder's sound: he smote the trembling 'foes, As sportive infant's staff the bearded thistle mows. Onward to meet this hero, like a storm, A cloudy storm, the mighty Dargo came; As mountain caves, where dusky meteors form, His hollow eye-balls flash'd a livid flame. And now they join'd, and now they wield Their clashing steel-resounds the field: Crimora heard the loud alarms, Rinval's daughter, bright in arms, Her hands the bow victorious bear, Luxuriant way'd her auburn hair; Connal, her life, her love, in beauty's pride, She follow'd to the war, and fought by Connal's side. In wild despair, at Connal's for she drew The fatal string, impatient flew the dart; Ah hapless maid !-with erring course it flew ; The shaft stood trembling in her lover's heart: He fell so fails by thunder's shock From ocean's cliffs the rifted rock, That falls and ploughs the groaning strand He fell by love's unwilling hand, Hapless maid! from eve to day, Connal, my love; the breathless clay My love, she calls-now rolls her frantic eyes-Now bends them sad to earth-she sinks, she faints, she dies. Together rest in Earth's parental womb, Her fairest offspring; mournful in the vale The mountain covers with its awful shade, ODE TO YOUTH. YOUTH, ah stay, prolong delight, Close thy pinions stretch'd for flight! Youth, disdaining silver hairs, Autumn's frowns and Winter's cares, Dwell'st thou but in dimple sleek, In vernal smiles and Summer's cheek? Graver years come sailing by: Or flatter thrones, the nobler choice! Or in victory's purple plain Or, where the unsunn'd treasures sleep, man woes. Years away! too dear I prize Fancy's haunts, her vales, her skies; Come, while years reprove in vain, This ear be deaf, this voice be mute! Still my soul, for ever young, Still link'd to all, who suffer pain. Pursue the eternal law !-one power above Connects, pervades the whole-that power divine is love. TO THE THAMES. NEARER to my grove, O Thames! There the lily lifts her head, Fairest child of Nature's bed. Oh! Thames, my promise all was vain: It bends again, and seems to cry, Come then, Cambrian virgin, come, For you to grant, for me to claim; My aching eyes shall turn to view [gloom, I quit thy lyre-but still the train Sweet fragrance breathes, sweet voices sound- Gentle Kitty, slumber finds; Such a change is misery's due- AH! bow to music, bow my lays My notes but kindle cold desire, Ah! what I feel for thee! Associate then thy voice, thy touch, Its milder beams reflect from you. TO MISS KP GENTLE Kitty, take the lyre But wake not once such swelling chords And ask the youths! why heavenly fair Their tenderest vows inspires? If Juno's more than regal air, Or fierce Minerva's fires? 'Tis bashful Venus they prefer Retiring from the view, And, what their lips address to her, TO MISS K—— P Your bosom's sweet treasures thus ever disclose! Have I trespass'd on chastity's laws? Ah no!-not the least swelling charm is descried And your apron hides all that short aprons can hide, From the fashion of Eve to the present. The veil, too transparent to hinder the sight, Is what modesty throws on your mind : That veil only shades, with a tenderer light, All the feminine graces behind. TO MISS K- P <Si un arbre avoit du sentiment, il se plairoit à TO MISS K WITH ANSON'S VOYAGE RAPTUR'D traveller, cease the tales Of Tinian's lawns, Fernandes' vales; Of isles, concentering Nature's charms, These enchanting scenes, and all Fruits and flowers are there combin'd WHERE Hitch's gentle current glides, Here monks of saintly Benedict Their nightly vigils kept, He spoke-from forth their hallow'd walls Then wicked laymen ent'ring in, Ev'n to the chapel's sacred roof, Besounds the flute, and sprightly dance, Yet fame reports, that monkish shades To haunt the mansions once their own, One night, more prying than the rest, And enter'd where on beds of down Repos'd each gentle dame. Here, softening midnight's raven gloom, He stopp'd, he gaz'd, to wild conceits He took the aunt for prioress, It hap'd that R- 's capuchin, His raptur'd accents broke; "Hail balcyon days! Hail holy nun! This wondrous change explain: Again religion lights her lamp, Reviews these walls again. "For ever blest the power that checkt Restor❜d again the church's lands. "To monks indeed, from Edward's days, Yet sister nuns may answer too The founder's good donation. "Ah! well thy virgin vows are heard: For man were never given Those charms, reserv'd to nobler ends, "Yet speak what cause from morning mass "Awake thy abbess sisters all; At Mary's holy shrine, With bended knees and suppliant eyes "No Nun am I," recov'ring cried The nymph; Nor nun will be, unless this fright Yet never rise by four o'clock To tell my morning beads. "No mortal lover yet, I vow, My virgin heart has fixt, But yet I bear the creatures talk "To Heav'n my eyes are often cast (From Heav'n their light began) Yet deign sometimes to view on Earth It's image stampt on man. |