10 35 Yet once again, dear parted shade, Meek Nature's child, again adieu! 40 The genial meads, assign'd to bless Thy life, shall mourn thy early doom; 20 Long, long, thy stone and pointed clay AN ODE ON THE POPULAR SUPER- CONSIDERED AS THE SUBJECT OF POETRY 1 1749 1788 H1 thou return 'st from Thames, whose naiads long Have seen thee ling'ring, with a fond delay, 25 There must thou wake perforce thy Doric1 quill; 'Tis Fancy's land to which thou sett'st thy feet, Where still, 'tis said, the fairy people meet Beneath each birken shade on mead or hill. There each trim lass that skims the milky store To the swart tribes their creamy bowl allots; By night they sip it round the cottage door, While airy minstrels warble jocund notes. There ev'ry herd, by sad experience, knows How, wing'd with fate, their elf-shot arrows fly; When the sick ewe her summer food foregoes, Or, stretch'd on earth, the heart-smit heifers lie. 'Mid those soft friends, whose hearts, 30 Such airy beings awe some future day, Shall melt, perhaps, to hear thy tragic song. 5 Go, not unmindful of that cordial Whom, long-endear'd, thou leav'st by Together let us wish him lasting truth, Go! nor regardless, while these numbers boast swain: th' untutor'd Ev'n yet preserv'd, how often may'st thou hear, Where to the pole the boreal3 mountains run, Taught by the father to his list'ning son, Strange lays, whose pow'r had charm'd a Spenser's ear. 40 At ev'ry pause, before thy mind possest, Old Runic bards shall seem to rise 55 60 When ev'ry shrieking maid her bosom beat, And strew'd with choicest herbs his scented grave; Or, whether, sitting in the shepherd's shiel,1 Thou hear'st some sounding tale of war's alarms, When, at the bugle's call, with fire and steel, Saw at sad Falkirk all their hopes near crown'd, The sturdy clans pour'd forth their 80 They rav'd, divining, thro' their second Who, now perhaps in lusty vigor seen And rosy health, shall soon lamented die. 65. For them the viewless forms of air obey, Their bidding heed, and at their beck repair. They know what spirit brews the storm- 95 What tho' far off, from some dark dell Far from his flocks and smoking ham- 135 Nor e'er of me one hapless thought let then, Meantime, the wat 'ry surge shall round him rise, Pour'd sudden forth from ev'ry swelling source. What now remains but tears and hopeless sighs? His fear-shook limbs have lost their youthly force, 120 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-fall1 of the day, His babes shall linger at th' unclosing 140 145 renew, Once foes, perhaps, together now they rest; No slaves revere them, and no wars invade: 150 Yet frequent now, at midnight's solemn hour, The rifted mounds their yawning cells unfold, And forth the monarchs stalk with sov 'reign pow'r, In pageant robes, and wreath'd with sheeny gold, And on their twilight tombs aërial council hold. 170 climb, And of its eggs despoil the solan's1 nest. Proceed, nor quit the tales which, simply told, Could once so well my answ 'ring bosom pierce; Proceed! in forceful sounds and colors bold, The native legends of thy land rehearse; To such adapt thy lyre and suit thy pow'rful verse. In scenes like these, which, daring to depart From sober truth, are still to nature true, And call forth fresh delight to Fancy's view, Th' heroic muse employ'd her Tasso's art! How have I trembled, when, at Tancred's stroke, Its gushing blood the gaping cypress pour'd ;1 Thus blest in primal innocence they 195 When each live plant with mortal ac cents spoke, And the wild blast upheav'd the vanish'd sword! How have I sat, when pip'd the pensive wind, To hear his harp, by British Fairfax strung, Prevailing poet, whose undoubting mind Believ'd the magic wonders which he sung! Hence at each sound imagination glows; [The MS. lacks a line here.] Hence his warm lay with softest sweetness flows; Melting it flows, pure, num 'rous, strong, and clear, And fills th' impassion'd heart, and wins th' harmonious ear. |