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Meantime the watery surge shall round him rise,
Poured sudden forth from every swelling source ! What now remains but tears and hopeless sighs ?
His fear-shook limbs have lost their youthful force, And down the waves he floats, a pale and breathless corse! For him in vain his anxious wife shall wait,
Or wander forth to meet him on his way :
For him in vain, at to-fall of the day,
Her travelled limbs in broken slumbers steep!
Shall visit sad, perchance, her silent sleep. Then he, perhaps, with moist and watery hand,
Shall fondly seem to press her shuddering cheek, And with his blue swoll'n face before her stand,
And, shivering cold, these piteous accents speak : “Pursue, dear wife, thy daily toils, pursue,
At dawn or dusk, industrious as before; Nor e'er of me one helpless thought renew,
While I lie weltering on the osier shore, Drowned by the Kelpie's wrath, nor e'er shall aid thee more !" Unbounded is thy range; with varied skill
Thy Muse may, like those feathery tribes which spring
From their rude rocks, extend her skirting wing Round the moist marge of each cold Hebrid isle, To that hoar pile which still its ruins shows :
In whose small vaults a pigmy-folk is found, Whose bones the delver with his spade upthrows,
And culls them, wondering, from the hallowed ground !? Or thither, where beneath the showery west,
The mighty kings of three fair realms are laid 3 : Once foes, perhaps, together now they rest,
No slaves revere them, and no wars invade: Yet frequent now, at midnight solemn hour,
The rifted mounds their yawning cells unfold, And forth the monarchs stalk with sovereign power,
In pageant robes, and wreathed with sheeny gold, And on their twilight tombs aërial council hold. 1 The water-fiend.
3 Icolmkill, where nearly sixty of 2 One of the Hebrides is called the the ancient Scottish, Irish, and NorIsland of Pigmies; where it is re- wegian kings are interred. ported that miniature bones of the human species have been dug up.
But oh! o'er all, forget not Kilda's ? race,
On whose bleak rocks, which brave the wasting tides,
Fair Nature's daughter, Virtue, yet abides.
Of those whose lives are yet sincere and plain,
And all their prospect but the watery main. With sparing temperance, at the needful time,
They drain the scented spring: or, hunger-pressed, Along the Atlantic rock, undreading, climb,
And of its eggs despoil the solan's? nest. Thus, blest in primal innocence they live,
Sufficed and happy with that frugal fare Which tasteful toil and hourly danger give.
Hard is their shallow soil, and bleak and bare ; Nor ever vernal bee was heard to murmur there! Nor need'st thou blush that such false themes engage
Thy gentle mind, of fairer stores possessed;
For not alone they touch the village breast,
Flew to those fairy climes his fancy sheen,
And with their terrors dressed the magic scene. From them he sung, when, ʼmid his bold design,
Before the Scot, afflicted, and aghast ! The shadowy kings of Banquo's fated line
Through the dark cave in gleamy pageant passed. Proceed! nor quit the tales which, simply told,
Could once so well my answering bosom pierce;
The native legends of thy land rehearse ;
From sober truth, are still to Nature true,
And call forth fresh delight from Fancy's view,
1 One of the Hebrides.
3 The witches in “ Macbeth.” % A bird of the goose species, on
* Jerusalem Delivered," the eggs of which the inhabitants Canto xiii. stan za 41, 42, &c. of St. Kilda chietly subsist.
Its gushing blood the gaping cypress poured ! When each live plant with mortal accents spoke,
And the wild blast upheaved the vanished sword ! How have I sat, when piped the pensive wind,
To hear his harp by British Fairfax strung ! Prevailing poet! whose undoubting mind
Believed the magic wonders which he sung ! Hence, at each sound, imagination glows !
Hence, at each picture, vivid life starts here! Hence his warm lay with softest sweetness flows !
Melting it flows, pure, murmuring, strong, and clear, And fills the impassioned heart, and wins the harmonious ear! All hail, ye scenes that o'er my soul prevail !
Ye splendid friths and lakes, which, far away,
Are by smooth Annan filled, or pastoral Tay,
Your lowly glens o'erhung with spreading broom;
Or o'er your mountains creep, in awful gloom ! Then will I dress once more the faded bower,
Where Jonson sat in Drummond's classic shade. Or crop, from Tiviotdale, each lyric flower
Or mourn, on Yarrow's banks, where Willy's laid ! Meantime, ye powers that on the plains which bore
The cordial youth, on Lothian's plains attend !Where'er Home dwells, on hill or lowly moor,
To him I love, your kind protection lend, And, touched with love like mine, preserve my absent
EXAMINATION ON COLLINS ODES.
1. What characteristics of style may be applied to Collins' poetry? 2. Which is the most popular of Collins' odes? 3. To what may we attribute this popularity ? 4. Quote some beautiful passages from the ode “ To Evening." 5. Scan one of the stanzas in the above ode. 6. Is there more of fancy or of imagination in this ode? 7. Extract some examples of personification from Collins' odes. 8. Wbich may be considered the finest stanza in the “Ode to the
Passions?” 9. Who was the originator of the Alcaic stanza? 10. For what was the Attic style remarkable? 11. Quote some classical allusions from these odes. 12. What is the signification of the word “ ode? ”
AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM.
'Tis hard to say if greater want of skill
'Tis with our judgments as our watches ; none
Yet, if we look more closely, we shall find
All fools have still an itching to deride,
Those half-learned witlings, numerous in our isle,
Nature to all things fixed the limits fit,
First follow Nature, and your judgment frame
1 An envious poetaster, an enemy of the poet Horace.