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Of Lyric And sigb'd and look’d, sigh'd and look’d,
Whose palms, new-pluck'd from Paradise,
Or Lyric Poetry Sigh'd and look'd, and sigh'd again :
In spreading branches more sublimely rise,
Chor. The prince, &c. Thou rollist above us, in thy wand'ring race,
Or in procession fix'd and regular,
Mov’d with the heav'n's majestic pace ;
Or call’d to more superior bliss,
Thou tread'st with seraphims the vast abyss :
Whatever happy region is thy place,
Cease thy celestial song a little space;
Thou wilt have time enough for hymns divine,
Since heaven's eternal year is thine.
Hear then a mortal muse thy praise rehearse
In no ignoble verse;
But such as thy own voice did practise here,
When thy firsi fruits of poesy were giv'n
To make thyself a welcome inmate there,
While yet a young probationer,
And candidate of heav'n.
If by traduction came thy mind,
Our wonder is the less to find
A soul so charming from a stock so good;
Thy father was transfus’d into thy blood,
How they point to the Persian abodes, An early, rich, and inexhausted vein.
And glittring temples of their hostile gods. But if thy pre-existing soul
Was form’d at first with myriads more,
Who Greek or Latin laurels wore,
And was that Sappho last which once it was before.
Chor. And the king seiz'd, &c. Thou hast no dross to purge from tby rich ore,
Nor can thy soul a fairer mansion find,
Than was the beauteous frame she left behind :
Return to fill or mend the choir of thy celestial kind.
May we presume to say, that, at thy birth,
For sure the milder planets did combine
On thy auspicious boroscope to shine,
And e'en the most malicious were in trine.
Thy brother angels at thy birth
Strung each his lyre, and tun'd it high,
Might know a poetess was born on earth.
And then, if ever, mortal ears
Had heard the music of the spheres.
And if no clust'ring swarm of bees
'Twas that such vulgar miracles
Heav'n had not leisure to renew :
For all thy bless'd fraternity of love * Dr John-skill in poetry and painting, which a great critic * has
pronounced to be undoubtedly tbe noblest ode that Solemniz'd there thy birth, and kept thy holy day above.
For tongues of angels, and for hymns of love? .
O wretched me! why were we hurry'd down
This lubrique and adult'rate
of Lyric (Nay added fat pollutions of our own)
VII. l'oetry. T'increase the streaming ordures of the stage !
The scene then chang’d, with bold erected look
Our martial king the sight with rev'rence struck :
For not content t'express his outįvard part,
Her land call'd out the image of his heart :
His warlike mind, bis soul devoid of fear,
As when, by magic, ghosts are made appear.
Our plænix queen was pourtray'd too so bright,
Beauty alone could beauty take so right:
Her dress, her shape, her matchless grace,
Were all observ’d, as well as heav'nly face.
With such a peerless majesty she stands,
Before a train of heroines was seen,
In beauty foremost, as in rank, the queen.
But like a ball of fire the further thrown,
Still with a greater blaze she shone,
And her bright soul broke out on ev'ry side.
That fate alone its progress could oppose.
Now all those charms, that blooming grace,
The well-proportion'd shape, and beauteous face,
Shall never more be seen by mortal eyes;
Nor wit nor piety could fate prevent ;
Nor was the cruel Destiny content
To finish all the murder at a blow,
To sweep at once her life and beauty too;
But like a harden'd felon, took a pride
To work more mischievously slow,
And plunder'd first, and then destroy'd.
O double sacrilege on things divine,
But thus Orinda died:
Heav'n, by the same disease, did both translate ;
As equal were their souls, so equal was their fale.
His waving streamers to the winds displays,
And vows for bis return, with vain devotion, pays.
Ab generous youth ! that wish forbear,
Slack all thy sails, and fear to come,
Alas, thou know't pot, thou art wreck'd at home!
No more shalt thou behold thy sister's face,
Thou hast already had her last embrace.
But look aloft, and if thou kenn'st from far,
Among the Pleiads a new kindled star,
If any sparkles than the rest more bright,
'Tis she that shines in that propitious light.
When in mid-air the golden trump sball sound,
To raise the nations under ground;
When in the valley of Jehoshaphat,
And there the last assises keep
For those who wake and those who sleep:
When rattling bones together fly
From the four corners of the sky;
or Lyric The sacred pocts tirst shall hear the sound,
There, ev'ry herd, by sad experience, knows,
of Lyric Poetry, And foremost from the tomb shall bound,
How, wing'd with Fate, their elf-shot arrows fly, Poetry.
Or, stretch'd on earth, the heart-smit beifers lie.
Such airy beings awe th' untutor’d swain :
Nor thou, tho' learn'd, bis homelier thoughts neglect:
Let thy sweet Muse the rural faith sustain;
These are the themes of simple, sure effect,
That add new conquests to her boundless reign,
And fill, with double force, ler heart-commanding
Where to the pole the Boreal mountains run,
Taught by the father to bis list’ning son,
At every pause, before thy mind possest,
Old Runic bards shall seem to rise around, some parts of it to be tediously minute in description, With uncouth lyres in many-colour'd vest, and others not very perspicuous at the first, perusal
. Whether thou bidd'st the well-taught hind repeat
Their matted hair with boughs fantastic crown'd:
The choral dirge that mourns some chieftain brave,
When ev'ry shrieking maid her bosom beat,
And strew'd with choicest herbs his scented grave; has surely no claim.
Or whether sitting in the shepherd's sbiel (H),
Thou hear'st some sounding tale of war’s alarms,
The sturdy clans pour'd forth their brawny * swarms, * bonj.
'Tis thine to sing how framing hideous spells,
siter Together let us wish him lasting truth,
Lodg'd in the winery cave with Fate's fell spear (1),
Or in the depths of Ui-t's dark forest dwells :
How they whose sight such dreary dreams engross,
When, o'er the wat'ry strath, or quas gi noss,
They see the gliding ghosts unbodied I troop. | embodied. * whose. Fresb to that soil thou turn’st, where * ev'ry vale Or, if in sports, or on the festive green,
Shall prompt the poet, and his soug demand : Their destin'd $ glance some fated youth descry, Śpiercing
Who now, perhaps, in lusty vigour sten,
Their bidding beed, and at their beck repair.
They know what spirit brews the stormful day,
Where still, 'tis said, the Fairy people meet, To see the phantom train their secret work prepare.
Oft have they seen Fate give the fatal blow!
The seer in Sky shriek'd as the blood did flow
When headless Charles warm on the scaffold lay!
pasture is fine.
(G) A gentleman of the name of Barrow, who introduced Home to Collins.
(K) of this beautiful ode two copies have been printed : one by Dr Carlyle, from a manuscript which he ac-
of Lyric As Boreas threw his young Aurora (L) forth,
On bin, enrag'd, the fiend, in angry mood, Poetry In the first year of the first George's reign,
Shall never look with pity's kind concern,
But instant, furious, raise the whelming flood
Or, if he meditate his wish'd
Pale, red Culloden, where these bopes were drown'd! In all its terrors clad, shall wild appear.
One William sav'd us from a tyrant's stroke ; Pour'd sudden forth from ev'ry swelling source !
What now remains but tears and bopeless sigbs ?
chain hast broke, His fear-shook limbs have lost their youthly force,
Or wander forth to meet bim on his way ;
For bim in vain, at to-fall of the day,
Let not dank Will (o) mislead you to the heath : Ab, ne'er shall he return ! Alone, if night
Her travellid limbs in broken slumbers steep!
Sball visit sad, perchance, her silent sleep:
His glimm'ring mazes cheer th' excursive sight, Shall fondly seem to press ber shudd'ring ebeek,
And with his blue-swoln face betore her stand,
And, shiv'ring cold, these piteous accents speak :
“ At dawn or dusk, industrious as before ;
“ Nor e'er of me one * helpless thought rene", * haplesa. And frequent round him rolls his sullen eyes,
“ While I lie welt'ring on the ozier'd shore, Ifchance his savage wrath may some weak wretch surprise. " Druwu'd by the kelpie'st wrath, nor e'er shall aid t the water VII.
[thee mort !” i nd. Ah, luckless swain, n'er all unblest, indeed!
Unbounded is thy range ; with varied skill I
1 styles Whom late bewilderd in the dank, dark fen,
Thy nuse may, like those feath'ry tribes which spring, Far from hi- locks, and smoking hamlet, then! From their rude rocks, extend her skirting wing * his way. To that dark spot * where hums the sedgy weed. Round ibe moist marge of each cold hebrid isle, ward fate
Tor shall lead.
present to publish his name," we have inserted into our work the copy which pretends to be perfeet, nothing at
They view the lurid signs that cross the sky, Draws instant down whate'er devoted thing
The falling brerze within its stach hath plac'd.
Or if on land the fiend exerts bis
Silent lie broods o'er quicksand, beg, or fen,
Far from the shelt'ring roof and haunts of
men, Of that dread spirit, whose gigantic form
When witched darkness shuts the
And shrouds each star that wont to cheer the night;
And points the wretched burk its destin'd prey. With treach'rous gleain he lures the fated wight
And leads him flound'ring on and' quite astray.”
(M) Second-sight is the term that is used for the divination of the Highlanders.
(0) A fiery meteor, called by various names, such as Will with the Wisp, Jack with the Lanthorn, &c. It
p. 237. and
Or Lyric To that haar pile (P) which still its ruin shows : How have I trembl'd, when, at Tancred's stroke, of Lyric l'oetry. In whose small vaults a pigmy-folk is found,
Its gusliing blood the gaping cypress pour’d,
How have I sat, when pip'd the pensive wind,
Prevailing poet whose undoubting mind,
Hence, at each sound, imagination glows !
In pageant robes ; and, wreath'd with sheeny gold, Melting it flows, pure, murm’ring *, strong, and clear, * numer-
AU hail, ye scenes that o'er my soul prevail!
Are by smooth Annan [ fillid, or past’ral Tay 1,
The time shall come, when I, perhaps, may tread
Your lowly glens *, o'erhung with spreading broom ; * valleys.
Oro’ér your mountains creep, in au ful gloom! (1)
Where Jonson (u) sat in Drummond's classict shade;+ social.
from Tiviotdale, each lyric flow'r,
the wi* See Bird. And of its eggs despoil the solan's nest *.
And mourn, on Yarrow's banks, where Willy's laid I dowed catching, Thus, blest in primal innocence, they live, Meantime, ye pow'rs that on the plains wbich bore
maid: Pelicanus, Suffic'd, and happy with that frugal fare
The cordial youth, on Lothian's plains (x), attend !
he dweli. Hard is their shallow soil, and bleak and bare ;
To him I lovst ll
Dr Johnson, in bis life of Collins, informs us, that
Dr Warton and his brother, wbo bad seen this ode in
the author's possession, thought it superior to his other
the Passions has much less merit, though it be merit of
From them he song, when, ’mid his bold design, the Highlands :
When Music, heav'nly maid, was young,
While yet in early Greece she sung,
Proceed, in forceful sounds, and colours bold, Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting,
Possest beyond the Muse's painting ;
Disturbid, delighted, rais’d, refin'd.
Till once, 'tis said, when all were fir'd,
Fill?d with fury, rapt, inspir’d,
From the supporting myrtles round
They spatch'd her instruments of sound :
And (P) One of the Hebrides is called the Isle of Pigmies, where it is reported, that several miniature bones of the human species have been dug up in the ruins of a chapel there.
(a) Icolmkill, one of the Hebrides, where many of the ancient Scottish, Irish, and Norwegian kings, are said
(R) This line wanting in Dr Carlyle's edition.
(u) Ben Jonson paid a visit on foot in 1619 to the Scotch poet Drummond, at his seat of Hawthornden, within
(x) Barrow, it seems, was at the university of Edinburgh, which is in the county of Lothian.