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O'er the gay scene Lh* enamour'd inmates roam:
And gather fresh ideas as they rise
From Nature's manifold supplies. Alas: for whom! iflany a gleam of sprightly thought,
]V:.any a sad and sable mood.
Or nursed by shades of darksome wood,
Flown is the spirit of Gray,
That breathe harmonious lay.
They bid their plaintive accents (ill
The covert hollows of the bosom'd hill:'
With liquid voice and magic hand
Calliope informs the band: Hush'd are the warblers of the grove, attentive tOthe sound*
'Soft and slow
And thou, sage Priestess* of our holy fire,
Who saw'st the Poet's flame expire.
Thy precious drops profusely shed
O'er his well-deserving head.
Thou nurtur'dst once a grateful throng,
When Milton pourd the sweets of song,
• Cambridge University, where Graj died.
'Now wake the faithful lyre mute Dulnessreigns:
Your echoes waft no more the friendly theme:
To childhood's careless scenes/
WTith philosophic reach profound
Fond of the look, that loves the ground ; \
* But most the music of thy plantive moan$
As lost in thought thou wander'st all alone
Where spirits hover round their mansions drear*
* Sic 0<ty%> P'inlario Oilei,
1 Ode on a di-uui y ospect of Kton College.
J Hyuui »o Advers ty. i Church-yard Eiejrj.
'By Contemplation's eye serenely view'd,
Each lowiy object wears an awful mien: Tis our own bi-ndness veils the latent good:
The works ot Nature need but to be seen. *1hou sav/st hci oeaming from the hamlet-sires
Beneath those rugged elms, that yew tree's shade z Where now. still faithful to their wonted Jire&,*
Thy own dear ashes. &refor ever laid.'
ON THE DEATH OF MR. GRAY.
By a Lady.
WHERE sleeps the Bard who graced Museus' hearse
With fragrant trophies by the Muses wove! Shall Grny'scold urn in vain demand the verse,
Oh ! can his Mason fail in plaintive love? No; with the Nine inwrapp'd in social woe,
His lyre unstrung, sad vigil he must keep; With them he mourns, with them his eyes o'erflow,
For such a Bard immortal Maida can weep.
Of sacred poesy and moral song,
And bore him through aerial heights along.
With brilliant Genius, marshall'd forth his way: They lured his steps to Cambria's once-famed land,
And sleeping Druids felt his magic lay. But vain the magic lay, the warbling lyre,
Imperious Death! from thy fell grasp to save; He knew, and told it with a Poet's tire,
'The paths of glow lead but to the grave.'
* Gray was buried at Stoke, the scene of the Elegy*
And shall the Bard, whoso sympathizing mind
MournM o'er the simple rustic's turfy cell,
No village swain to ring one parting kneli I
Green rushes culling thy dank grave to strew; With mountain flow'rs I'll deck the hallow'd place,
And fence it round with osiers mix'd with yew.
THE TEARS OF GENIUS*
Majestic rises on the astonish'd sight,
And warm'd his soul with Heaven's inspiring ig Beneath the covert of the sylvan shade,
Where deadly cypress, mix'd with mournful ye Far o'er the vale a gloomy stillness spread,
Celestial Genius burst upon the view. The bloom of youth, the majesty of years,
The soften'd aspect, innocent and kind, The sigh of sorrow, and the streaming tears,
Resistless all, their various pow'r combined. In her fair hand a silver harp she bore,
Whose magic notes, soft-warbling from the string, Give tranquil joy the breast ne'er knew before,
Or raise the soul on rapture's airy wing. By grief impell'd, I heard her heave a sigh, While thus the rapid strain resounded through the sky;
Haste, ye sister powers of song,
Sweetly to the voice of love.
Light you press che flow'ry green,
Cull the wreaths for Fancy's queen.
Floating on the fragrant breeze,
That wakes the softest feelings of the soul;
Behold our fav'rite Poet lies!
Far from his couch ungrateful flies.
So lately warm'd his peaceful breast,
In Transport's radiant garments drest,
Tinged with the pomp of vernal pride, The youths who mount on Pleasure's wing,f And idly sport on Thames's side, With cool regard their various arts employ, Nor rouse the drooping mind, nor give the pause of joy,
t Ode oa the I'r"sj.^ci of Eum College.