ODE TO SIMPLICITY. O`THOU, by Nature taught To breathe her genuine thought, In numbers warmly pure, and sweetly strong; Who first, on mountains wild, In Fancy, loveliest child, Thy babe, or Pleasure's, nurs'd the powers of song! Thou, who, with hermit heart, Disdain'st the wealth of art, And gauds, and pageant weeds, and trailing pall; But com'st a decent maid, In attic robe array'd, O chaste, unboastful Nymph, to thee I call! By all the honey'd store On Hybla's thymy shore; 5 10 By all her blooms, and mingled murmurs dear; 15 By her whose lovelorn woe, In evening musings' slow, Sooth'd sweetly sad Electra's poet's ear: i The ȧndov, or nightingale, for which Sophocles seems to have entertained a peculiar fondness. By old Cephisus deep, Who spread his wavy sweep, In warbled wanderings, round thy green retreat ; On whose enamell'd side, When holy Freedom died, No equal haunt allur'd thy future feet. O sister meek of Truth, To my admiring youth, 20 25 Thy sober aid and native charms infuse! Though Beauty cull'd the wreath, Still ask thy hand to range their order'd hues. 30 While Rome could none esteem But virtue's patriot theme, You lov'd her hills, and led her laureat band: But staid to sing alone To one distinguish'd throne; 35 And turn'd thy face, and fled her alter'd land. Shall gain thy feet to bless the servile scene. Though taste, though genius, bless To some divine excess, Faints the cold work till thou inspire the whole; 45 What each, what all supply, May court, may charm, our eye ; Thou, only thou, canst raise the meeting soul! Of these let others ask, To aid some mighty task, I only seek to find thy temperate vale ; To maids and shepherds round, And all thy sons, O Nature, learn my tale. 50 ODE ON THE POETICAL CHARACTER. As once, if, not with light regard, -Lo! to each other nymph, in turn, applied, 5 10 With whisper'd spell had burst the starting band, It left unblest her loath'd dishonour'd side; Her baffled hand with vain endeavour, Had touch'd that fatal zone to her denied! 15 Young Fancy thus, to me divinest name, To whom, prepar'd and bath'd in heaven, To few the godlike gift assigns, To gird their blest prophetic loins, 20 And gaze her visions wild, and feel unmix'd her flame! * Florimel. See Spenser, Leg. 4th. The band, as fairy legends say, Was wove on that creating day, When He, who call'd with thought to birth And plac'd her on his sapphire throne; Now sublimest triumph swelling, 35 Now on love and mercy dwelling; And she, from out the veiling cloud, Breath'd her magic notes aloud: And thou, thou rich-hair'd youth of morn, By whose the tarsel's eyes were made; In braided dance, their murmurs join'd, Who feed on heaven's ambrosial flowers. -Where is the bard whose soul can now Its high presuming hopes avow? 50 |