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of Lyric The proffer'd joy I ne'er refuse ;
Thy breath to Eliza's no fragrance hath in't,
Of Lyric l'oelry. 'Tis oft-times troublesome to chuse.
And but dull is thy bloom to her cheek's blushing tint. Poetry.
Yet, alas ! my fair flow'r, that bloom will decay,
Tho' plack'd by her hand, to whose touch we must own,
Harsh and rough is the cygnet's most delicate down :"
Thou too, snowy hand; nay, I mean not to preach;
But the rose, lovely moralist, suffer to teach.
“ Extol not, fair maiden, thy beauties o'er mine;
They too are short-liv'd, and they too must decline ;
And small, in conclusion, the diff'rence appears,
In the bloom of few days, or the bloom of few years !
But remember a virtue the rose bath to boast,
figurative kind, of which we have many in our language forid and In some soft dream, with all her charms,
that deserve particular commendation. Mr Warton's
Ode to Fancy has been justly admired by the best judges;
for though it has a distant resemblance of Milton's
l'Allegro and Il Penseroso, yet the work is original; the
thoughts are mostly new and various, and the language
and numbers elegant, expressive, and harmonious.
O parent of each lovely muse,
Thy spirit o'er my soul diffuse !
To offer at thy turf-built shrine the elegant tenderness of Sappho.
In golden cups no costly wine,
No murder'd fatling of the flock,
But flow’rs and honey from the rock.
O nymph, with loosely flowing hair,
With buskin'd leg, and bosom bare ;
Thy waist with myrtle-girdle bound,
Thy brows with Indian feathers crown'd.;
Waving in thy snowy hand
An all-commanding magic wand,
Of pow'r to bid fresh gardens blow
'Mid cheerless Lapland's barren snow:
Whose rapid wings tby flight convey,
Through air, and over earth and sea ;
While the vast various landscape lies
Conspicuous to thy piercing eyes.
O lover of the desert, hail !
Say, in what deep and pathles vale,
Or on what hoary mountain's side,
'Midst falls of water, you reside; There is much of the softness of Sappho, and the
Midst broken rocks, a rugged scene,
dales between ;
'Midst forests dark of aged oak, was written in compliment to a lady, who, being sick,
Ne’er echoing with the woodman's stroke; had sent the author a moss rose-bud, instead of making
Where never human art appear'd, his family a visit. This piece is particularly to be
Nor ev’n one straw-roof'd cott was rear'd ; esteemed for the just and striking moral with which it
Where Nature seems to sit alone,
Majestic on a craggy throne.
Tell me the path, sweet wand'rer! tell,
To tly unknown sequester'd cell,
Where woodbines cluster round the door,
Where shells and moss o’erlay the floor,
Amid whose thickly-woven boughs
Some nightingale still builds her nest,
Each ev'ning warbling thee to rest.
Wrapt in some wild poetic dream ;
Iu converse while methinks I rove
When young ey'd Spring profusely throws of Lyric With Spenser through a fairy grove ;
From her green lap the pink and rose ;
When the soft turtle of the dale
To Summer tells her tender tale ;
When Autumn cooling caverns seeks,
And stains with wine his jolly cheeks ;
When Winter, like poor pilgrim old,
Shakes his silver beard with cold;
At ev'ry season let my ear
Thy solemn whispers, Fancy, hear.
O warm enthusiastic maid !
Without thy powerful, vital aid,
That breathes an energy divine,
That gives a soul to ev'ry line,
Ne'er may I strive with lips profane,
To utter an unballow'd strain ;
Nor dare to touch the sacred string,
Save when with smiles thou bid'st me sing.
O hear our pray’r, 0 hither come
From thy lamented Shakespeare's tomb,
On which thou lov'st to sit at eve,
Musing o'er thy darling's grave.
queen of numbers, once again
Animate some chosen swain,
Who, fill'd with unexhausted fire,
May boldly smite the sounding lyre ;
Who with some new, unequall'd song,
May rise above the rhyming throng:
O'er all our list’ning passions reign,
O’erwhelm our souls with joy and pain ;
With terror shake, with pity move,
Rouze with revenge, or melt with love.
O deign t'attend his evening walk,
With him in groves and grottoes talk ;
Teach him to scorn, with frigid art,
Feebly to touch th' enraptur'd heart ;
Like lightning, let his mighty verse
The bosom's inmost foldings pierce ;
With native beauties win applause,
Beyond cold critics studied laws :
O let each muse's fame increase !
O bid Britannia rival Greece!
spirit, say, To battle burriez me away
The following ode, written by Mr Smart on the 5th ?
of December (being the birth-day of a beautiful young 'Tis Fancy, in her fiery car,
lady), is much to be admired for the variety and harTransports me to the thickest war ;
mony of the numbers, as well as for the beauty of the There whirls me o'er the hills of slain,
thoughts, and the elegance and delicacy of the compliWhere tumult and destruction reign ;
ment. It has great fire, and yet great sweetness, and is
the happy issue of genius and judgment united.
* Ilail eldest of the monthly train,
Sire of the winter drear,
December! in whose iron reign
Expires the chequer'd year.
Hush all the blust'ring blasts that blow,
And proudly plum’d in silver snow,
Smile gladly on this blest of days ;
The livery'd clouds shall on thee wait,
And Phoebus shine in all his state
With more than summer rays.
Though jocund June may justly boast
Long days and happy hours;
Though August be Pomona's host,
And May be crown’d with flow'rs :
he scems to have had a psalm of David in his view, Of Lyric Poetry By Harriot's blush, and Harriot's eyes,
which says, that “the heavens declare the glory of God, Poetry. Eclips'd and vanquisb’d, fade away ;
and the firmament sheweth his handywork.”
The spacious firmament on high,
With all the blue ethereal sky,
And spangled heav'ns, a shining frame,
both picturesque and pathetic. To perceive all the beau- Does his Creator's pow'r display,
And publishes to ev'ry land
The work of an Almighty hand.
Soon as the ev’ning shades prevail,
The moon takes up the wond'rous tale,
And nightly to the list’ning earth
Repeats the story of her birth:
While all the stars that round her burn,
And all the planets in their turn,
Confirm the tidings as they roll, of Æolus. That he, whose heart in sorrow bleeds,
And spread the truth from pole to pole.
What tho' in solemn silence all
Move round the dark terrestrial ball ?
What tho' no real voice or sound
Amid their radiant orbs he found?
In reason's ear they all rejoice,
And utter forth a glorious voice,
For ever singing, as they shine,
" The land that made us is divine."
The following pastoral hymn is a version of the 23d
Psalm by Mr Addison ; the peculiar beauties of which
have occasioned many translations ; but we have seen
none that is so poetical and perfect as this. And in mond And 'mid the varied landscape weep.
justice to Dr Boyce, we must observe, that the music church. But thou, who own'st that earthy bed,
he has adapted to it is so sweet and expressive, that we Ah! what will ev'ry dirge avail?
know not which is to be most admired, the poet or the,
The Lord my pasture shall prepare,
And feed me with a shepherd's care ;
His presence shall my wants supply,
And guard me with a watchful eye ;
My noon-day walks he shall attend,
And all my midnight hours defend.
When in the sultry glebe I faint,
Or on the thirsty mountain pant,
To fertile vales and dewy meads
My weary wand'ring steps he leads ;
Where peaceful rivers soft and slow
Amid the verdant landscape flow.
Tho' in the paths of death I tread,
With gloomy horrors overspread,
My stedfast heart shall fear no ill :
For thou, O Lord, art with me still;
Tlıy friendly crook shall give me aid,
And guide me through the dreadful shade.
Tho' in a bare and rugged way,
Through devious lonely wilds I stray,
Thy bounty shall my pains beguile :
The barren wilderness shall smile, ken of those written on divine subjects, and which are
With sudden greens and herbage crown'd; usually called hymns. Of these we have many in our
And streams shall murmur all around. language, but none perhaps that are so much admired as Mr Addison's. The beauties of the following hymn are III. We are now to speak of those odes which are the subtoo well known, and too obvious, to need any commen- of the sublime and noble kind, and distinguished from lime ode. dation ; we shall only observe, therefore, that in this others by their elevation of thought and diction, as well hymn (intended to display the power of the Almighty) by the variety or irregularity of their numbers as the
of Lyric frequent transitions and bold excursions with wbich they Smiles in the bud, and glistens in the flow'r Of Lyric Poetry are enriched.
That crowns each vernal bow'r;
Till rocks and forests ring ;
Or where the precious musk-deer playful rove ;
Safe banks and verd'rous hills
Thy present influence fills :
Blue crystal vault, and elemental fires,
Hence! vanish from my sight
Delusive pictures! unsubstantial shows! This ode, or hymn, which some believe was composed My soul absorb'd one only Being knows, by Moses in Hebrew verse, is incomparably better than Of all perceptions one abundant source, any thing the heathen poets bave produced of the kind, Whence ev'ry object, ev'ry moment flows : and is by all good judges considered as a master-piece
Suns bence derive their force,
and was so called from Pindar, an ancient Greek poet,
The odes of Pindar were held in snch high estima
tion by the ancients, that it was fabled, in honour of : Spirit of spirits, who, through every part
their sweetness, that the bees, while he was in the cradle, Of space expanded, and of endless time,
brought honey to his lips : nor did the victors at the Beyond the reach of lab'ring thought sublime, Olympic and other
think the crown a sufficient Bad'st uproar into beauteous order start;
reward for their merit, unless their achievements were Before beav'n was, thou art.
celebrated in Pindar's songs; most wisely presaging,
measure, or with the same intention with regard to their
being sung. For the ode inscribed to Diagoras (the Omniscient Spirit, whose all-ruling pow'r
concluding stanza of wliich we inserted at the beginning Bids from each sense bright emanations beam ; of this section) is in heroic measure, and all the stanzas Glows in the rainbow, sparkles in the stream, are equal : there are others also, as Mr West observes,
(F) For the philosophy of this ode, which represents the Deity as the soul of the world, or rather as the only
Of Lyric made up of strophes aad antistrophes, without any epode; beauty, strength, courage, riches, and glory, resulting or Lyric
and measures': but the greatest part of his odes are di- should be too much putied up with ihese praises, be re-
they sung in the middle, neither turning to one hand he not been restrained from engaging in those famous * Vid. Pref. nor the other. But Dr West's * friend is of opinion, lists by the too timid and cautious love of bis parents. to Wesl so that the performers also danced one way while they were Upon which be falls into a moral reflection upon the Pindar
singing the strophe, and danced back as they sung the an- vanity of man's hopes and sears; by the former of which
As the various measures of Pindar's odes have been like to meet with, who both by father and mother was
more than the fields and trees are every year equally
fruitful; that the gods had not given mortals any cer-
tain tokens by which they might foreknow when the
Daughter of Rhea ! thou, whose holy fire
Before the awful seat of justice flames !
usual in all stagoras, Pindar turns himself in the next place to his And lo! with frequent offprings, they adore
solemn safather Arcesilas, whom he pronounces happy, as well Thee *, first invok'd in every solemn pray’r!
crifices and upon account of his son's merit and honour, as upon To thee unnux'd libations pour,
prayers to his own great endowments and good fortune : such as And fill with od'rous fumes the fragrant air.
in oking Around Vesta.
* It was