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II. 3.

Fill high the sparkling bowl,

The rich repast prepare;

Reft of a crown, he yet máy share the feast.
Close by the regal chair

Fell Thirst and Famine scowl

A baleful smile upon the baffled guest.
Heard ye the din of battle bray,

Lance to lance and horse to horse?

Long years of havock urge their destin'd course,
And thro' the kindred squadrons mow their way.
Ye Tow'rs of Julius! London's lasting shame!
With many a foul and midnight murder fed,
Revere his consort's faith, his father's fame,
And spare the meek usurper's holy head.
Above, below, the Rose of snow,
Twin'd with her blushing foe, we spread;
The bristled Boar in infant gore

Wallows beneath the thorny shade.

Now, brothers! bending o'er the accursed loom, Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom.

III. 1.

Edward, lo! to sudden fate

(Weave we the woof; the thread is spun)

Half of thy heart we consecrate;

(The web is wove; the work is done.")

· Stay, oh stay! nor thus forlorn

Leave me unbless'd, unpity'd here to mourn.

In yon bright tract, that fires the western skies,
They melt, they vanish from my eyes.

But oh! what solemn scenes on Snowdon's height,
Descending slow, their glitt'ring skirts unroll!
Visions of glory! spare my aching sight,
Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul !
No more our long-lost Arthur we bewail:

All hail, ye genuine Kings, Britannia's issue, hail!

III. 2.

Girt with many a baron bold

Sublime their starry fronts they rear,
And gorgeous dames and statesmen old
In bearded majesty appear;

In the midst a form divine,

Her eye proclaims her of the Briton-line,
Her lion-port, her awe-commanding face,
Attemper'd sweet to virgin-grace.

What strings symphonious tremble in the air!
What strains of vocal transport round her play!
Hear from the grave, great Taliessin! hear!
They breathe a soul to animate thy clay.
Bright Rapture calls, and soaring as she sings,
Waves in the eye of heav'n her many-colour'd wings.
III. 3.

The verse adorn again

Fierce War, and faithful Love,

And Truth severe, by fairy fiction drest.

In buskin'd measures move

Pale Grief, and pleasing Pain,

With Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast.
A voice as of the cherub-choir

Gales from blooming Eden bear,

And distant warblings lessen on my ear,

That lost in long futurity expire.

Fond impious man! think'st thou yon sanguine cloud
Rais'd by thy breath, has quench'd the orb of day?
To-morrow he repairs the golden flood,

And warms the nations with redoubled ray.
Enough with me: with joy I see

The different doom our Fates assign!
Be thine despair and sceptred care;

To triumph and to die are mine.'

He spoke, and, headlong from the mountain's height, Deep, in the roaring tide, he plung'd to endless night.


The Progress of Poesy. Pindaric.

I. 1.

AWAKE, Eolian lyre! awake,

And give to rapture all thy trembling strings; From Helicon's harmonious springs

A thousand rills their mazy progress take;
The laughing flow'rs that round them blow,
Drink life and fragrance as they flow.
Now the rich stream of music winds along,
Deep, majestic, smooth, and strong,

Thro' verdant vales and Ceres' golden reign;
Now rolling down the steep amain,

Headlong, impetuous see it pour;

The rocks and nodding groves re-bellow to the roar.

I. 2.

Oh! Sov'reign of the willing soul,

Parent of sweet and solemn-breathing airs,
Enchanting shell! the sullen Cares

And frantic Passions hear thy soft control.
On Tracia's hills, the Lord of War
Has curb'd the fury of his car,

And dropp'd his thirsty lance at thy command:
Perching on the sceptred hand

Of Jove, thy magic lulls the feather'd king
With ruffled plumes and flagging wing;

Quench'd in dark clouds of slumber lie

The terror of his beak and lightnings of his eye.

I. 3

Thee the voice, the dance obey,

Temper'd to thy warbled lay!

O'er Idalia's velvet green

The rosy-crowned Loves are seen

On Cytherea's day,

With antic sports and blue-ey'd Pleasures,

Frisking light in frolic measures:

Now pursuing, now retreating,

Now in circling troops they meet;
To brisk notes of cadence beating
Glance their many-twinkling feet.

Slow-melting strains their queen's approach declare;
Where'er she turns the Graces homage pay:
With arms sublime, that float upon the air,
In gliding state she wings her easy way:
O'er her warm cheek and rising bosom move
The bloom of young desire and purple light of love.
II. 1.

Man's feeble race what ills await!

Labor and Penury, the racks of Pain,

Disease, and Sorrow's weeping train,

And Death, sad refuge from the storms of Fate! The fond complaint, my Song ! disprove,

And justify the laws of Jove,

Say, has he given in vain the heavenly Muse?
Night, and all her sickly dews,

Her spectres wan, and birds of boding cry,
He gives to range the dreary sky,

Till down the eastern cliffs afar

Hyperion's march they spy, and glitt'ring shafts of


II. 2.

In climes beyond the Solar Road,

Where shaggy forms o'er ice-built mountains roam, The Muse has broke the twilight-gloom

To cheer the shiv'ring native's dull abode ;

And oft beneath the od'rous shade

Of Chili's boundless forests laid,

She deigns to hear the savage youth repeat,

In loose numbers, wildly sweet,

Their feather'd-cinctur'd chiefs and dusky loves. Her track, where'er the goddess roves,

Glory pursue, and gen'rous shame,

Th' unconquerable mind and Freedom's holy flame.

II. 3.

Woods that wave o'er Delphi's steep,
Isles that crown th' Egean deep,
Fields that cool Ilissus laves,

Or where Mæander's amber waves
In ling'ring lab'rinths creep,

How do your tuneful echoes languish,
Mute but to the voice of Anguish !
Where each old poetic mountain
Inspiration breath'd around,

Ev'ry shade and hallow'd fountain
Murmur'd deep a solemn sound,

Till the sad Nine, in Greece's evil hour,
Left their Parnassus for the Latian plains:
Alike they scorn the pomp of tyrant Pow'r
And coward Vice, that revels in her chains.
When Latium had her lofty spirit lost,

They sought, Oh Albion! next thy sea encircled coast.
III. 1.

Far from the sun and summer gale,

In thy green lap was Nature's darling laid,
What time, where lucid Avon stray'd

To him the mighty mother did unveil
Her awful face: the dauntless child
Stretch'd forth his little arms, and smil'd.
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 sacred source of sympathetic Tears.

III. 2.

Nor second he that rode sublime

Upon the seraph wings of ecstasy,
The secrets of th' abyss to spy,

He pass'd the flaming bounds of place and time:
The living throne, the sapphire-blaze,

Where angels tremble while they gaze,

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