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The Poetical Works of William Collins; With a Memoir Part 7

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For, lo, what monsters in thy train appear!

Danger, whose limbs of giant mould 10 What mortal eye can fix'd behold?

Who stalks his round, an hideous form, Howling amidst the midnight storm; Or throws him on the ridgy steep Of some loose hanging rock to sleep: 15 And with him thousand phantoms join'd, Who prompt to deeds accursed the mind: And those, the fiends, who, near allied, O'er Nature's wounds, and wrecks, preside; Whilst Vengeance, in the lurid air, 20 Lifts her red arm, exposed and bare: On whom that ravening[15] brood of Fate, Who lap the blood of sorrow, wait: Who, Fear, this ghastly train can see, And look not madly wild, like thee! 25

EPODE.

In earliest Greece, to thee, with partial choice, The grief-full Muse addrest her infant tongue; The maids and matrons, on her awful voice, Silent and pale, in wild amazement hung.

Yet he, the bard[16] who first invoked thy name, 30 Disdain'd in Marathon its power to feel: For not alone he nursed the poet's flame, But reach'd from Virtue's hand the patriot's steel.

But who is he whom later garlands grace, Who left a while o'er Hybla's dews to rove, 35 With trembling eyes thy dreary steps to trace, Where thou and furies shared the baleful grove?

Wrapt in thy cloudy veil, the incestuous[17] queen Sigh'd the sad call[18] her son and husband heard, When once alone it broke the silent scene, 40 And he the wretch of Thebes no more appear'd.

O Fear, I know thee by my throbbing heart: Thy withering power inspired each mournful line: Though gentle Pity claim her mingled part, Yet all the thunders of the scene are thine! 45

ANTISTROPHE.

Thou who such weary lengths hast past, Where wilt thou rest, mad Nymph, at last?

Say, wilt thou shroud in haunted cell, Where gloomy Rape and Murder dwell?

Or, in some hollow'd seat, 50 'Gainst which the big waves beat, Hear drowning seamen's cries, in tempests brought?

Dark power, with shuddering meek submitted thought, Be mine to read the visions old Which thy awakening bards have told: 55 And, lest thou meet my blasted view, Hold each strange tale devoutly true; Ne'er be I found, by thee o'erawed, In that thrice hallow'd eve, abroad, When ghosts, as cottage maids believe, 60 Their pebbled beds permitted leave; And goblins haunt, from fire, or fen, Or mine, or flood, the walks of men!

O thou, whose spirit most possest The sacred seat of Shakespeare's breast! 65 By all that from thy prophet broke, In thy divine emotions spoke; Hither again thy fury deal, Teach me but once like him to feel: His cypress wreath my meed decree, 70 And I, O Fear, will dwell with thee!

FOOTNOTES:

[15] Alluding to the ???a? af??t??? ~Kynas aphyktous~ of Sophocles.

See the Electra. C.

[16] aeschylus. C.

[17] Jocasta. C.

[18] ??d' et' ????e? ??, ?? e? s??p?; f?e?a d' e?a?f??? t????

T???e? a?t??, ?ste pa?ta? ????a?

St?sa? f?? de?sa?ta? e?a?f??? t???a?.

~----oud' et' ororei boe, en men siope; phthegma d' exaiphnes tinos Thouxen auton, hoste pantas orthias Stesai phobo deisantas exaiphnes trichas.~

See the dip. Colon. of Sophocles. C.

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, 5 Thy babe, or Pleasure's, nursed 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, 10 In attic robe array'd, O chaste, unboastful Nymph, to thee I call!

By all the honey'd store On Hybla's thymy sh.o.r.e; By all her blooms, and mingled murmurs dear; 15 By her[19] whose lovelorn woe, In evening musings slow, Soothed sweetly sad Electra's poet's ear:

By old Cephisus deep, Who spread his wavy sweep, 20 In warbled wanderings, round thy green retreat; On whose enamel'd side, When holy Freedom died, No equal haunt allured thy future feet.

O sister meek of Truth, 25 To my admiring youth, Thy sober aid and native charms infuse!

The flowers that sweetest breathe, 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.

No more, in hall or bower, The Pa.s.sions own thy power, Love, only Love her forceless numbers mean: For thou hast left her shrine; 40 Nor olive more, nor vine, 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, 50 I only seek to find thy temperate vale; Where oft my reed might sound To maids and shepherds round, And all thy sons, O Nature, learn my tale.

FOOTNOTES:

[19] The a?d?? ~aedon~, or nightingale, for which Sophocles seems to have entertained a peculiar fondness. C.

ODE ON THE POETICAL CHARACTER.

As once,--if, not with light regard, I read aright that gifted bard, --Him whose school above the rest His loveliest elfin queen has blest;-- One, only one, unrival'd[20] fair, 5 Might hope the magic girdle wear, At solemn turney hung on high, The wish of each love-darting eye;

--Lo! to each other nymph, in turn, applied, As if, in air unseen, some hovering hand, 10 Some chaste and angel friend to virgin fame, With whisper'd spell had burst the starting band, It left unblest her loathed dishonour'd side; Happier, hopeless Fair, if never Her baffled hand, with vain endeavour, 15 Had touch'd that fatal zone to her denied!

Young Fancy thus, to me divinest name, To whom, prepared and bathed in heaven, The cest of amplest power is given: To few the G.o.dlike gift a.s.signs, 20 To gird their blest prophetic loins, And gaze her visions wild, and feel unmix'd her flame!

The band, as fairy legends say, Was wove on that creating day, When He, who call'd with thought to birth 25 Yon tented sky, this laughing earth, And dress'd with springs and forests tall, And pour'd the main engirting all, Long by the loved enthusiast woo'd, Himself in some diviner mood, 30 Retiring, sat with her alone, And placed her on his sapphire throne; The whiles, the vaulted shrine around, Seraphic wires were heard to sound, Now sublimest triumph swelling, 35 Now on love and mercy dwelling; And she, from out the veiling cloud, Breathed her magic notes aloud: And thou, thou rich-hair'd youth of morn, And all thy subject life was born! 40 The dangerous pa.s.sions kept aloof, Far from the sainted growing woof: But near it sat ecstatic Wonder, Listening the deep applauding thunder; And Truth, in sunny vest array'd, 45 By whose the ta.r.s.el's eyes were made; All the shadowy tribes of mind, In braided dance, their murmurs join'd, And all the bright uncounted powers Who feed on heaven's ambrosial flowers. 50 --Where is the bard whose soul can now Its high presuming hopes avow?

Where he who thinks, with rapture blind, This hallow'd work for him design'd?

High on some cliff, to heaven up-piled, 55 Of rude access, of prospect wild, Where, tangled round the jealous steep, Strange shades o'erbrow the valleys deep, And holy Genii guard the rock, Its glooms embrown, its springs unlock, 60 While on its rich ambitious head, An Eden, like his own, lies spread: I view that oak, the fancied glades among, By which, as Milton lay, his evening ear, From many a cloud that dropp'd ethereal dew, 65 Nigh sphered in heaven, its native strains could hear; On which that ancient trump he reach'd was hung: Thither oft, his glory greeting, From Waller's myrtle shades retreating, With many a vow from Hope's aspiring tongue, 70 My trembling feet his guiding steps pursue; In vain--Such bliss to one alone, Of all the sons of soul, was known; And Heaven, and Fancy, kindred powers, Have now o'erturn'd the inspiring bowers; 75 Or curtain'd close such scene from every future view.

FOOTNOTES:

[20] Florimel. See Spenser, Leg. 4th. C.

ODE,

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The Poetical Works of William Collins; With a Memoir Part 7 summary

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