Yet, when the sense of sacred presence fires,

And strong devotion to the skies aspires,

Pour forth thy fervors for a healthful mind,

Obedient passions, and a will resigned:

For love, which scarce collective man can fill;

For patience, sovereign o'er transmuted ill;

For faith, that, panting for a happier seat,

Counts death, kind Nature's signal of

retreat:

These goods for man the laws of Heaven ordain,

These goods He grants, who grants the power to gain;

With these celestial Wisdom calms the mind,

And makes the happiness she does not find.

[From Vanity of Human Wishes.]
CHARLES XII.

ON what foundation stands the
warrior's pride,

How just his hopes, let Swedish Charles decide:

A frame of adamant, a soul of fire, No dangers fright him, and no labors tire;

O'er love, o'er fear, extends his wide domain,

Unconquered lord of pleasure and of pain.

No joys to him pacific sceptres yield, War sounds the trump, he rushes to the field;

Behold surrounding kings their powers combine,

And one capitulate, and one resign; Peace courts his hand, but spreads her charms in vain; "Think nothing gained," he cries. "till naught remain,

The march begins in military state,

[From London.]

THE FATE OF POVERTY.

By numbers here from shame of censure free,

wait;

Stern Famine guards the solitary

coast

This, only this, the rigid law pursues, This, only this, provokes the snarling

muse.

frost;

He comes, nor want nor cold his course delay;

Hide, blushing glory, hide Pultowa's day!

The vanquished hero leaves his broken bands,

And shows his miseries in distant lands;

Condemned a needy suppliant to wait,

While ladies interpose and slaves debate.

But did not Chance at length her error mend?

Did no subverted empire mark his end?

Did rival monarchs give the fatal

With brisker air the silken courtiers

DRINK to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine:
Or leave a kiss but in the cup
And I'll not look for wine.

I sent thee late a rosy wreath, Not so much honoring thee As giving it a hope that there It could not withered be;

rise

Doth ask a drink divine;

But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine.

And sent'st it back to me;

Since when it grows, and smells, 1

swear,

Not of itself but thee!

HYMN TO CYNTHIA.

QUEEN and huntress, chaste and fair, Now the sun is laid to sleep, Seated in thy silver chair,

State in wonted manner keep: Hesperus entreats thy light, Goddess, excellently bright!

Earth, let not thy envious shade

Dare itself to interpose: Cynthia's shining orb was made Heaven to clear when day did close: Bless us then with wishèd sight, Goddess, excellently bright!

Lay thy bow of pearl apart,

And thy crystal shining quiver: Give unto the flying hart

Space to breathe, how short soever; Thou that mak'st a day of night, Goddess, excellently bright!

THE SWEET NEGLECT.

STILL to be neat, still to be drest,
As you were going to a feast:
Still to be powdered, still perfumed:
Lady, it is to be presumed,
Though art's hid causes are not
found,

All is not sweet, all is not sound.

Give me a look, give me a face, That makes simplicity a grace; Robes loosely flowing, hair as free: Such sweet neglect more taketh me,

to be

starred face,

Huge, cloudy symbols of a high romance,

And think that I may never live to

trace

Their shadows, with the magic hand of Chance;

breath,

EVER let the fancy roam;

death.

ODE ON THE POETS.

BARDS of passion and of mirth
Ye have left your souls on earth!
Have ye souls in heaven too,
Double-lived in regions new?
Yes, and those of heaven commune
With the spheres of sun and moon;
With the noise of fountains wonder-

ous

And the parle of voices thunderous;

At a touch sweet pleasure melteth
Like to bubbles when rain pelteth;
Then let wingèd fancy wander
Through the thought still spread be
yond her;

Open wide the mind's cage-door,—
She'll dart forth, and cloudward soar.
O sweet fancy! let her loose!
Summer's joys are spoilt by use,
And the enjoying of the spring
Fades as does its blossoming.
Autumn's red-lipped fruitage too,
Blushing through the mist and dew,

Cloys with tasting. What do then?
Sit thee by the ingle, when
The sear faggot blazes bright,
Spirit of a winter's night;
When the soundless earth is muffled,
And the caked snow is shuffled
From the ploughboy's heavy shoon;
When the Night doth meet the Noon
In a dark conspiracy

[her.

send

To banish Even from her sky.
Sit thee there, and send abroad,
With a mind self-overawed,
Fancy, high-commissioned:
She has vassals to attend her;
She will bring, in spite of frost,
Beauties that the earth hath lost;
She will bring thee, all together,
All delights of summer weather;
All the buds and bells of May,
From dewy sward or thorny spray;
All the heaped autumn's wealth;
With a still, mysterious stealth;
She will mix these pleasures up
Like three fit wines in a cup,

And thou shalt quaff it,-thou shalt

hear

Distant harvest-carols clear,-
Rustle of the reaped corn;
Sweet birds antheming the morn;
And, in the same moment,- hark!
'Tis the early April lark,-
Or the rooks, with busy caw,
Foraging for sticks and straw.
Thou shalt, at one glance, behold
The daisy and the marigold;
White-plumed lilies, and the first
Hedge-grown primrose that hath
burst;

Shaded hyacinth, alway
Sapphire queen of the mid-May;
And every leaf, and every flower
Pearlèd with the self-same shower.
Thou shalt see the field-mouse peep
Meagre from its cellèd sleep;
And the snake, all winter-thin,
Cast on sunny bank its skin;
Freckled nest-eggs thou shalt see
Hatching in the hawthorn-tree,
When the hen-bird's wing doth rest
Quiet on her mossy nest;
Then the hurry and alarm
When the bee-hive casts its swarm;
Acorns ripe down-pattering
While the autumn breezes sing.

[From Endymion.]

BEAUTY'S IMMORTALITY.

A THING of beauty is a joy forever: Its loveliness increases; it will never Pass into nothingness; but still will keep

A bower quiet for us, and a sleep Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.

Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing

A flowery band to bind us to the

earth,

Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth

Of noble natures, of the gloomy days, Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkened ways

Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,

Some shape of beauty moves away the pall

From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,

Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon

[dils For simple sheep; and such are daffoWith the green world they live in; and clear rills

That for themselves a cooling covert make

'Gainst the hot season; the mid-forest