Bound in thy adamantine chain, The proud are taught to taste of pain, And purple tyrants vainly groan With pangs unfelt before, unpitied and alone.

2 When first thy Sire to send on earth, Virtue, his darling child, design'd, To thee he gave the heavenly birth, And bade to form her infant mind: Stern rugged nurse! thy rigid lore With patience many a year she bore; What sorrow was thou badest her know, And from her own she learn'd to melt at others' woe.

3 Scared at thy frown, terrific fly Self-pleasing Folly's idle brood, Wild Laughter, Noise, and thoughtless Joy, And leave us leisure to be good.

Light they disperse; and with them go The summer friend, the flattering foe; By vain Prosperity received, To her they vow their truth, and are again believed.

4 Wisdom, in sable garb array'd, Immersed in rapturous thought profound, And Melancholy, silent maid!

With leaden eye, that loves the ground, Still on thy solemn steps attend; Warm Charity, the general friend, With Justice, to herself severe, And Pity, dropping soft the sadly-pleasing tear.

5 Oh! gently on thy suppliant's head, Dread G.o.ddess! lay thy chastening hand, Not in thy Gorgon terrors clad, Nor circled with the vengeful band: (As by the impious thou art seen), With thundering voice and threatening mien, With screaming Horror's funeral cry, Despair, and fell Disease, and ghastly Poverty.

6 Thy form benign, O G.o.ddess! wear, Thy milder influence impart, Thy philosophic train be there, To soften, not to wound, my heart: The generous spark extinct revive; Teach me to love and to forgive; Exact my own defects to scan; What others are to feel, and know myself a Man.

V.--THE PROGRESS OF POESY.

PINDARIC.

ADVERTIs.e.m.e.nT.--When the author first published this and the following ode, he was advised, even by his friends, to subjoin some few explanatory notes, but had too much respect for the understanding of his readers to take that liberty.

[Greek:

Phonanta sunetoisin es De to pan hermaeneon Chatizei.-- PINDAR, _Olymp._ ii.]

I.--1.

Awake, Aeolian lyre! awake, And give to rapture all thy trembling strings; From Helicon's harmonious springs A thousand rills their mazy progress take; The laughing flowers, that round them blow, Drink life and fragrance as they flow.

Now the rich stream of music winds along, Deep, majestic, smooth, and strong, Through verdant vales and Ceres' golden reign; Now rolling down the steep amain, Headlong, impetuous, see it pour; The rocks and nodding groves rebellow to the roar.

I.--2.

Oh! Sovereign of the willing soul, Parent of sweet and solemn-breathing airs, Enchanting Sh.e.l.l! the sullen Cares And frantic Pa.s.sions hear thy soft control.

On Thracia's hills the Lord of War Has curb'd the fury of his car, And dropp'd his thirsty lance at thy command: Perching on the sceptred hand Of Jove, thy magic lulls the feather'd king With ruffled plumes and flagging wing: Quench'd in dark clouds of slumber lie The terror of his beak and lightnings of his eye.

I.--3.

Thee the voice, the dance obey, Temper'd to thy warbled lay: O'er India's velvet green The rosy-crowned Loves are seen, On Cytherea's day, With antic Sports and blue-eyed Pleasures Frisking light in frolic measures: Now pursuing, now retreating, Now in circling troops they meet; To brisk notes in cadence beating, Glance their many-twinkling feet.

Slow-melting strains their Queen's approach declare Where'er she turns, the Graces homage pay; With arms sublime, that float upon the air, In gliding state she wins her easy way: O'er her warm cheek and rising bosom move The bloom of young Desire and purple light of Love.

II.--1.

Man's feeble race what life await!

Labour and Penury, the racks of Pain, Disease, and Sorrow's weeping train, And Death, sad refuge from the storms of Fate!

The fond complaint, my Song! disprove, And justify the laws of Jove.

Say, has he given in vain the heavenly Muse?

Night and all her sickly dews, Her spectres wan, and birds of boding cry, He gives to range the dreary sky, Till down the eastern cliffs afar Hyperion's march they spy, and glittering shafts of war.

II.--2.

In climes beyond the Solar road, Where s.h.a.ggy forms o'er ice-built mountains roam, The Muse has broke the twilight-gloom To cheer the shivering native's dull abode; And oft beneath the odorous shade Of Chili's boundless forests laid, She deigns to hear the savage youth repeat, In loose numbers, wildly sweet, Their feather-cinctured chiefs and dusky loves.

Her track, where'er the G.o.ddess roves, Glory pursue, and generous Shame, The unconquerable mind, and freedom's holy flame.

II.--3.

Woods that wave o'er Delphi's steep, Isles that crown the aegean deep, Fields that cool Ilissus laves, Or where Meander's amber waves In lingering labyrinths creep, I How do your tuneful echoes languish, Mute but to the voice of Anguish?

Where each old poetic mountain Inspiration breathed around; Every shade and hallow'd fountain Murmur'd deep a solemn sound, Till the sad Nine, in Greece's evil hour, Left their Parna.s.sus for the Latian plains: Alike they scorn the pomp of tyrant Power And coward Vice, that revels in her chains.

When Latium had her lofty spirit lost, They sought, O Albion! next thy sea-encircled coast.

III.--1.

Far from the sun and summer-gale, In thy green lap was Nature's darling laid, What time, where lucid Avon stray'd, To him the mighty Mother did unveil Her awful face; the dauntless child Stretch'd forth his little arms, and smiled.

This pencil take (she said) whose colours clear Richly paint the vernal year; Thine, too, these golden keys, immortal Boy!

This can unlock the gates of Joy, Of Horror that, and thrilling Pears, Or ope the sacred source of sympathetic Tears.

III.--2.

Nor second He that rode sublime Upon the seraph-wings of Ecstasy; The secrets of the abyss to spy, He pa.s.s'd the flaming bounds of place and time: The living throne, the sapphire-blaze, Where angels tremble while they gaze, He saw; but, blasted with excess of light, Closed his eyes in endless night.

Behold where Dryden's less presumptuous car Wide o'er the fields of glory bear Two coursers[1] of ethereal race, With necks in thunder clothed and long-resounding pace.

III.--3.

Hark! his hands the lyre explore!

Bright-eyed Fancy, hovering o'er, Scatters from her pictured urn Thoughts that breathe and words that burn; But ah! 'tis heard no more.

O lyre divine! what dying spirit[2]

Wakes thee now? though he inherit Nor the pride nor ample pinion That the Theban eagle[3] bear, Sailing with supreme dominion Through the azure deep of air, Yet oft before his infant eyes would run Such forms as glitter in the Muse's ray With orient hues, unborrow'd of the sun; Yet shall he mount, and keep his distant way Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate, Beneath the good how far--but far above the great.

[Footnote 1: 'Coursers:' the heroic rhymes.]

[Footnote 2: 'Dying spirit:' Cowley.]

[Footnote 3: 'Theban eagle:' Pindar.]

VI--THE BARD.

PINDARIC.

ADVERTIs.e.m.e.nT.--The following ode is founded on a tradition current in Wales, that Edward I., when he completed the conquest of that country, ordered all the bards that fell into his hands to be put to death.

I.--1.

'Ruin seize thee, ruthless King!

Confusion on thy banners wait; Though fann'd by Conquest's crimson wing, They mock the air with idle state.

Helm nor hauberk's[1] twisted mail, Nor even thy virtues, Tyrant! shall avail To save thy secret soul from nightly fears; From Cambria's curse, from Cambria's tears!'