N CHAM'S fair Banks, where Learning's hallow'd Fane
Majeftic rifes on th' aftonish'd Sight,
Where oft the Mufe has led the favourite Swain, And warm'd his Soul with Heav'n's infpiring Light,
Beneath the Covert of the Sylvan Shade,
Where deadly Cyprefs, mix'd with mournful Yew,
Far o'er the Vale a gloomy Stillness spread,
Celestial GENIUS burft upon the View.
The Bloom of Youth, the Majefty of Years,
The foften'd Afpect, innocent and kind,
The Sigh of Sorrow, and the ftreaming Tears,
Refiftlefs all, their various Pow'r combin'd.
In her fair Hand a Silver Harp fhe bore,
Whofe magic Notes, foft-warbling from the String, Give tranquil Joys the Breaft ne'er knew before, Or raife the Soul on Rapture's airy Wing. By Grief impell'd, I heard her heave a Sigh, While thus the rapid Strain refounded thro' the Sky,
Hafte ye Sifter Powers of Song,
Haften from the fhady Grove,
Where the River rolls along,
Sweetly to the Voice of Love.
Where, indulging mirthful Pleafures,
Light you prefs the flow'ry Green,
And from Flora's blooming Treasures
Cull the Wreath for Fancy's Queen:
Where your gently-flowing Numbers,
Floating on the fragrant Breeze,
Sink the Soul in pleafing Slumbers,
On the downy Bed of Eafe.
For graver Strains prepare the plaintive Lyre,
That wakes the fofteft Feelings of the Soul,
Let lonely Grief the melting Verse inspire,
Let deep'ning Sorrow's folemn Accents roll.
Rack'd by the Hand of rude Disease,
Behold our fav'rite Poet lies,
While every Object form'd to please,
Far from his Couch, ungrateful, flies.
The blissful Mufe, whofe favouring Smile
So lately warm'd his peaceful Breast,
Diffufing heavenly Joys the while,
In Transport's radiant Garments dreft,
With darkfome Grandeur and enfeebled Blaze,
Sinks in the Shades of Night, and fhuns his eager Gaze.
The gaudy Train, who wait on SPRING *,
Ting'd with the Pomp of vernal Pride,
The Youth who mount on Plea fure's Wingt,
And idly fport on THAMES's Side,
Ode on SPRING. Ode on the Profpect of ETON COLLEGE.
With cool Regard their various Arts employ,
Nor roufe the droopingMind, nor give the Paufe of Joy.
Ha! what Forms with Port fublimet,
Glide along in fullen Mood,.
Scorning all the Threats of Time,
High above Misfortune's Flood.
They feize their Harps, they ftrike the Lyre,
With rapid Hand, with Freedom's Fire.
Obedient Nature hears the lofty Sound,
And SNOWDON's airy Cliffs the heavenly Strains refound.
In Pomp of State, behold they wait,
With Arms outstretch'd, and Afpects kind,
To fnatch on high, to yonder Sky,
The Child of Fancy left behind:
Forgot the Woes of CAMBRIA's fatal Day,
By Rapture's Blaze impell'd, they fwell the artless Lay.
But ah, in vain they ftrive to foothe,
With gentle Arts, the tort'ring Hour,
ADVERSITY*, with rankling Tooth,
Her baleful Gifts profufely pours.
Behold fhe comes, the Fiend forlorn, 'Array'd in Horror's fettled Gloom, She ftrews the Briar and prickly Thorn, And triumphs in th'infernal Doom: - With frantic Fury and infatiate Rage,
She gnaws the throbbing Breast, and blasts the glowing Page.
BARD, an Ode, * Hymn to ADVERSITY.
No more the foft EOLIAN Flute‡
Breathes through the Heart the melting Strain, The Powers of Harmony are mute,
And leave the once delightful Plain;
With heavy Wing I fee them beat the Air,
Damp'd by the Leaden Hand of comfortless Despair.
Yet ftay, O ftay, celeftial Pow'rs,
And with a Hand of kind Regard,
Difpel the boift'rous Storm that lours
Deftructive on the fav'rite Bard;,
O watch with me his laft expiring Breath,
And fnatch him from the Arms of dark obliviousDeath.
Hark! the FATAL SISTERS join §,
And with Horror's mutt'ring Sounds,
Weave the Tiffue of his Line,
While the dreadful Spell refounds.
"Hail ye Midnight Sifters, hail,
Drive the Shuttle fwift along,
"Let our fecret Charms prevail
"O'er the Valiant and the Strong,
"O'er the Glory of the Land,
"O'er the Innocent and Gay, "O'er the Mufes tuneful Band,
"Weave the fun'ral Web of GRAY."
'Tis done, 'tis done-the Iron Hand of Pain,
With ruthlefs Fury and corrofive Force,
Racks every Joint, and feizes every Vein,
He finks, he groans, he falls a lifelefs Corfe.
The PROGRESS OF POETRY, an Ode.
Thus fades the Flow'r, nipp'd by the frozen Gale,
Tho' once fo fweet, fo lovely to the Eye:
Thus the tall Oaks, when boift'rous Storms affail,
Torn from the Earth, a mighty Ruin lie.
Ye facred Sifters of the plaintive Verse,
Now let the Stream of fond Affection flow,
pay your Tribute o'er the flow-drawn Hearfe,
With all the manly Dignity of Woe,
Oft when the Curfew tolls its parting Knell,
With folemn Pause yon CHURCH-YARD'S Gloom
furvey,
While Sorrow's Sighs and Tears of Pity tell
How juft the Moral of the Poet's Lay ‡.
O'er his green Grave, in Contemplation's Guise,
Oft let the Pilgrim drop a filent Tear,
Oft let the Shepherd's tender Accents rife, d 10t
Big with the Sweets of each revolving Year,
Till proftrate Time adore his deathless Name,
Fix'd on the folid Base of adamantine Fame,
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