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*The harp of Eolus.

+ Richmond church.

128

The hymn.

In yonder grave a Druid lies,

Where slowly winds the stealing wave;
The year's best sweets shall duteous rise
To deck its poet's silvan grave!
In yon deep bed of whisp'ring reeds

His airy harp shall now be laid,
That he, whose heart in sorrow bleeds,

May love through life the soothing shade.
Then maids and youths shall linger here,

And, while its sounds at distance swell,
Shall sadly seem in pity's ear

To hear the woodland pilgrim's knell.
Remembrance oft shall haunt the shore,
When Thames in summer wreaths is drest,
And oft suspend the dashing oar,

To bid his gentle spirit rest!
And oft as ease and health retire

To breezy lawn, or forest deep,
The friend shall view yon whitening spire †,
And 'mid the varied landscape weep.
But thou, who own'st that earthy bed,
Ah! what will ev'ry dirge avail?
Or tears, which love and pity shed,

That mourn beneath the gliding sail?
Yet lives there one, whose heedless eye,
Shall scorn thy pale shrine glimmʼring near?
With him, sweet bard, may fancy die,
And joy desert the blooming year.
But thou, lorn stream, whose sullen tide

No sedge-crown'd sisters now attend,
Now waft me from the green hill's side,
Whose cold turf hides the buried friend.
And see, the fairy valleys fade,

Dim night has veil'd the solemn view!
Yet once again, dear parted shade,
Meek nature's child, again adieu!
The genial meads, assign'd to bless

Thy life, shall mourn thy early doom;
Their hinds, and shepherd girls, shall dress,
With simple hands, thy rural tomb.
Long, long, thy stone and pointed clay
Shall melt the musing Briton's eyes;
O vales and wild woods, shall he say,
In yonder grave your Druid lies!

Under this species of the ode, notice ought to be taken of those written on divine subjects, and which are usually called hymns. Of these we have many in our language, but none perhaps that are so much admired as Mr Addison's. The beauties of the following hymn are too well known, and too obvious, to need any commendation; we shall only observe, therefore, that in this hymn (intended to display the power of the Almighty)

he seems to have had a psalm of David in his view, Of Lyric which says, that "the heavens declare the glory of God,__Poetry. and the firmament sheweth his handy work."

The spacious firmament on high,
With all the blue ethereal sky,
And spangled heav'ns, a shining frame,
Their great original proclaim :
Th' unwearied sun, from day to day,
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,
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 be found?
In reason's ear they all rejoice,
And utter forth a glorious voice,
For ever singing, as they shine,

"The hand 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 justice to Dr Boyce, we must observe, that the music he has adapted to it is so sweet and expressive, that we know not which is to be most admired, the poet or the musician.

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;
Thy 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,

With sudden greens and herbage crown'd;
And streams shall murmur all around.

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To give the young student an idea of the sudden and frequent transitions, digressions, and excursions, which are admitted into the odes of the ancients, we cannot do better than refer him to the celebrated song or ode of Moses; which is the oldest that we know of, and was penned by that divine author immediately after the children of Israel crossed the Red sea.

At the end of this song, we are told, that "Miriam the prophetess, the sister of Aaron, took a timbrel in her hand, and all the women went out after her with timbrels and with dances. And Miriam answered them, Sing ye to the Lord, for he hath triumphed gloriously; the horse and his rider hath he thrown into the

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From this last passage it is plain, that the ancients very early called in music to the aid of poetry; and that their odes were usually sung, and accompanied with their lutes, harps, lyres, timbrels, and other instruments: nay, so essential, and in such reputation, was music held by the ancients, that we often find in their lyric poets, addresses or invocations to the harp, the lute, or the lyre; and it was probably owing to the frequent use made of the last-mentioned instrument with the ode, that this species of writing obtained the name of Lyric poetry.

This ode, or hymn, which some believe was composed by Moses in Hebrew verse, is incomparably better than any thing the heathen poets have produced of the kind, and is by all good judges considered as a master-piece of ancient eloquence. The thoughts are noble and sublime: the style is magnificent and expressive: the figures are bold and animated: the transitions and excursions are sudden and frequent but they are short, and the poet, having digressed for a moment, returns immediately to the great object that excited his wonder, and elevated his soul with joy and gratitude. The images fill the mind with their greatness, and strike the imagination in a manner not to be expressed.

If there be any thing that in sublimity approaches to it, we must look for it in the east, where perhaps we shall find nothing superior to the following Hindoo hymn to Narrayna, or "the spirit of God," taken, as Sir William Jones informs us, from the writings of the ancient Bramins.

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Spirit of spirits, who, through every part
Of space expanded, and of endless time,
Beyond the reach of lab'ring thought sublime,
Bad'st uproar into beauteous order start;

Before heav'n was, thou art.

Ere spheres beneath us roll'd, or spheres above,
Ere earth in firmamental æther hung,
Thou sat'st alone, till, through thy mystic love,
Things unexisting to existence sprung,

And grateful descant sung.
Omniscient Spirit, whose all-ruling pow'r
Bids from each sense bright emanations beam;
Glows in the rainbow, sparkles in the stream,

Smiles in the bud, and glistens in the flow'r

That crowns each vernal bow'r;
Sighs in the gale, and warbles in the throat
Of every bird that hails the bloomy spring,
Or tells his love in many a liquid note,
Whilst envious artists touch the rival string,
Till rocks and forests ring;

Breathes in rich fragrance from the sandal grove,
Or where the precious musk-deer playful rove;
In dulcet juice, from clust'ring fruit distils,
And burns salubrious in the tasteful clove :
Safe banks and verd'rous hills

Thy present influence fills:

In air, in floods, in caverns, woods, and plains,
Thy will inspirits all, thy sovereign Maya reigns.
Blue crystal vault, and elemental fires,
That in th' ethereal fluid blaze and breathe;
Thou, tossing main, whose snaky branches wreathe
This pensile orb with intertwisting gyres ;
Mountains, whose lofty spires,

Presumptuous, rear their summits to the skies, And blend their em'rald hue with sapphire light; - Smooth meads and lawns, that glow with varying

dyes

Of dew-bespangled leaves and blossoms bright,
Hence! vanish from my sight

Delusive pictures! unsubstantial shows!
My soul absorb'd one only Being knows,
Of all perceptions one abundant source,
Whence ev'ry object, ev'ry moment flows:
Suns hence derive their force,
Hence planets learn their course;
But suns and fading worlds I view no more;
God only I perceive; God only I adore (F).

Of Lyric Poetry.

130

We come now to the Pindaric ode, which (if we ex- The Pincept the hymns in the Old Testament, the psalms of daric ode, King David, and such hymns of the Hindoos as that just quoted) is the most exalted part of lyric poetry; and was so called from Pindar, an ancient Greek poet, who is celebrated for the boldness of his flights, the impetuosity of his style, and the seeming wildness and irregularity that runs through his compositions, and which are said to be the effect of the greatest art. See PIN

DAR.

The odes of Pindar were held in such high estimation by the ancients, that it was fabled, in honour of their sweetness, that the bees, while he was in the cradle, brought honey to his lips: nor did the victors at the Olympic and other games think the crown a sufficient reward for their merit, unless their achievements were celebrated in Pindar's songs; most wisely presaging, that the first would decay, but the other would endure for ever.

This poet did not always write his odes in the same measure, or with the same intention with regard to their being sung. For the ode inscribed to Diagoras (the concluding stanza of which we inserted at the beginning of this section) is in heroic measure, and all the stanzas are equal there are others also, as Mr West observes, made

(F) For the philosophy of this ode, which represents the Deity as the soul of the world, or rather as the only Being (the tow of the Greeks), see METAPHYSICS, N° 269. and PHILOSOPHY, N° 6.

66

Of Lyric made up of strophes and antistrophes, without any epode; Poetry and some composed of strophes only, of different lengths and measures: but the greatest part of his odes are divided into strophe, antistrophe, and epode; in order, as Mr Congreve conjectures, to their being sung, and addressed by the performers to different parts of the audience. They were sung (says he) by a chorus, and adapted to the lyre, and sometimes to the lyre and pipe. They consisted oftenest of three stanzas. The first was called the strophe, from the version or circular motion of the singers in that stanza from the right hand to the left. The second stanza was called the antistrophe, from the contraversion of the chorus; the singers in performing that, turning from the left hand to the right, contrary always to their motion in the strophe. The third stanza was called the epode (it may be as being the after-song), which they sung in the middle, neither turning to one hand Vid. Pref. nor the other. But Dr West's * friend is of opinion, that the performers also danced one way while they were singing the strophe, and danced back as they sung the antistrophe, till they came to the same place again, and then standing still they sung the epode. He has translated a passage from the Scholia on Hephæstion, in proof of his opinion; and observes, that the dancing the strophe and antistrophe in the same space of ground, and we may suppose the same space of time also, shows why those two parts consisted of the same length and measure.

to West's

Pindar.

As the various measures of Pindar's odes have been the means of so far misleading some of our moderu poets, as to induce them to call compositions Pindaric_odes, that were not written in the method of Pindar, it is necessary to be a little more particular on this head, and to give an example from that poet, the more effectually to explain his manner; which we shall take from the translation of Dr West.

The eleventh NEMEAN ODE.

This ode is ascribed to Aristagoras, upon occasion of his entering on his office of president or governor of the island of Tenedos so that, although it is placed among the Nemean odes, it has no sort of relation to those games, and is indeed properly an inauguration ode, composed to be sung by a chorus at the sacrifices and the feasts made by Aristagoras and his colleagues, in the town-hall, at the time of their being invested with the magistracy, as is evident from many expressions in the first strophe and antistrophe.

ARGUMENT.

Pindar opens this ode with an invocation to Vesta (the goddess who presided over the courts of justice, and whose statue and altar were for that reason placed in the town-halls, or Prytanæums, as the Greeks called them), beseeching her to receive favourably Aristagoras and his colleagues, who were then coming to offer sacrifices to her, upon their entering on their office of Prytans or magistrates of Tenedos, which office continuing for a year, he begs the goddess to take Aristagoras under her protection during that time, and to conduct him to the end of it without trouble or disgrace. From Aristagoras, Pindar turns himself in the next place to his father Arcesilas, whom he pronounces happy, as well upon account of his son's merit and honour, as upon his own great endowments and good fortune: such as

beauty, strength, courage, riches, and glory, resulting of Lyric from his many victories in the games. But lest he Poetry. should be too much puffed up with these praises, he reminds him at the same time of his mortality, and tells him that his clothing of flesh is perishable, that he must e'er long be clothed with earth, the end of all things; and yet, continues he, it is but justice to praise and celebrate the worthy and deserving, who from good citizens ought to receive all kinds of honour and commendation; as Aristagoras, for instance, who hath rendered both himself and his country illustrious by the many victories he hath obtained, to the number of sixteen, over the neighbouring youth, in the games exhibited in and about his own country. From whence, says the poet, I conclude he would have come off victorious even in the Pythian and Olympic games, had he not been restrained from engaging in those famous lists by the too timid and cautious love of his parents. Upon which he falls into a moral reflection upon the vanity of man's hopes and fears; by the former of which they are oftentimes excited to attempts beyond their strength, which accordingly issue in their disgrace; as, on the other hand, they are frequently restrained, by unreasonable and ill-grounded fears, from enterprises, in which they would in all probability have come off with honour. This reflection he applies to Aristagoras, by saying it was very easy to foresee what success he was like to meet with, who both by father and mother was descended from a long train of great and valiant men. But here again, with a very artful turn of flattery to his father Arcesilas, whom he had before represented as strong and valiant, and famous for his victories in the games, he observes that every generation, even of a great and glorious family, is not equally illustrious any more than the fields and trees are every year equally fruitful; that the gods had not given mortals any certain tokens by which they might foreknow when the rich years of virtue should succeed; whence it comes to pass, that men, out of self-conceit and presumption, are perpetually laying schemes, and forming enterprises, without previously consulting prudence or wisdom, whose streams, says he, lie remote and out of the common road. From all which he infers, that it is better to moderate our desires, and set bounds to our avarice and ambition; with which moral precept he concludes the ode.

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Of Lyric Foetry.

Around in festive songs the hymning choir
Mix the melodious voice and sounding lyre,
While still, prolong'd with hospitable love,
Are solemniz'd the rites of genial Jove:
Then guard him, Vesta, through his long career,
And let him close in joy his ministerial year.
EPODE I.

But hail, Arcesilas! all hail

To thee, bless'd father of a son so great!
Thou whom on fortune's highest scale
The favourable hand of heav'n hath set,

Thy manly form with beauty hath refin'd,
And match'd that beauty with a valiant mind.
Yet let not man too much presume,
Tho' grac'd with beauty's fairest bloom;
Tho' for superior strength renown'd;
Tho' with triumphal chaplets crown'd:
Let him remember, that, in flesh array'd,
Soon shall he see that mortal vestment fade;
Till lost, imprison'd in the mould'ring urn,
To earth, the end of all things, he return.
STROPHE II.

Yet should the worthy from the public tongue
Receive their recompense of virtuous praise;

By ev'ry zealous patriot sung,

And deck'd with ev'ry flow'r of heav'nly lays.
Such retribution in return for fame,
Such, Aristagoras, thy virtues claim,

Claim from thy country; on whose glorious brows
The wrestler's chaplet still unfaded blows;
Mix'd with the great Pancratiastic crown,
Which from the neighb'ring youth thy early valour won.
ANTISTROPHE II.

And (but his timid parents' cautious love,
Disturbing ever his too forward hands,

Forbade their tender son to prove

The toils of Pythia or Olympia's sands), A river, Now by the Gods I swear, his valorous might upon whose Had 'scap'd victorious in each bloody fight; banks the And from Castalia †, or where dark with shade Pythian The mount of Saturn rears its olive head, games were exhibited. Great and illustrious home had he return'd;

A small While, by his fame eclips'd, his vanquish'd foes had hill planted [mourn'd.

with olives,

that over

looked the

stadium at

EPODE II.

Then his triumphal tresses bound

Olympia. With the dark verdure of th' Olympic grove,

With joyous banquets had he crown'd
The great quinquennial festival of Jove;
And cheer'd the solemn pomp with choral lays,
Sweet tribute, which the muse to virtue pays.
But, such is man's prepost'rous fate!
Now, with o'er-weening pride elate,
Too far he aims his shaft to throw,
And straining bursts his feeble bow:
Now pusillanimous, depress'd with fear,
He checks his virtue in the mid career;
And of his strength distrustful, coward flies
The contest, tho' empow'rd to gain the prize.

STROPHE III.

But who could err in prophesying good Of him, whose undegenerating breast

Swells with a tide of Spartan blood, From sire to sire in long succession trac'd Up to Pisander; who in days of yore From old Amycle to the Lesbian shore And Tenedos, colleagu'd in high command With great Orestes, led th' Æolian band? Nor was his mother's race less strong and brave, Sprung from a stock that grew on fair * Ismenus' wave. ANTISTROPHE III.

Tho' for long intervals obscur'd, again
Oft-times the seeds of lineal worth appear.

For neither can the furrow'd plain
Full harvests yield with each returning year;
Nor in each period will the pregnant bloom
Invest the smiling tree with rich perfume.
So, barren often, and inglorious, pass
The generations of a noble race;
While nature's vigour, working at the root,
In after-ages swells, and blossoms into fruit.
EPODE III.

Nor hath Jove giv'n us to foreknow
When the rich years of virtue shall succeed:
Yet bold and daring on we go,
Contriving schemes of many a mighty deed;
While hope, fond inmate of the human mind,
And self-opinion, active, rash, and blind,
Hold up a false illusive ray,

That leads our dazzled feet astray

Far from the springs, where, calm and slow,
The secret streams of wisdom flow.
Hence should we learn our ardour to restrain,
And limit to due bounds the thirst of gain.
To rage and madness oft that passion turns,
Which with forbidden flames despairing burns.

Of Lyric Poetry.

* Ismenus

was a river

of Boeotia, of which country was Menalippus, the ancestor of Aristagoras by the mo ther's side,

of it.

131

From the above specimen, and from what we have Distinalready said on this subject, the reader will perceive, guishing that odes of this sort are distinguished by the happy characters transitions and digressions which they admit, and the surprising yet natural returns to the subject. This requires great judgment and genius; and the poet who would excel in this kind of writing, should draw the plan of his poem, in manner of the argument we have above inserted, and mark out the places where those elegant and beautiful sallies and wanderings may be made, and where the returns will be easy and proper.

:

Pindar, it is universally allowed, had a poetical and fertile imagination, a warm and enthusiastic genius, a bold and figurative expression, and a concise and sententious style but it is generally supposed that many of those pieces which procured him such extravagant praises and extraordinary testimonies of esteem from the ancients are lost; and if they were not, it would be perhaps impossible to convey them into our language; for beauties of this kind, like plants of an odoriferous and delicate nature, are not to be transplanted into an other clime without losing much of their fragrance or essential quality.

132 Modern

odes com

monly called Pinda

Tic.

Of Lyric With regard to those compositions which are usually Poetry. called Pindaric odes, (but which ought rather to be distinguished by the name of irregular odes), we have many in our language that deserve particular commendation the criticism which Mr Congreve has given us on that subject, has too much asperity and too great latitude; for if other writers have, by mistaking Pindar's measures, given their odes an improper title, it is a crime, one would think, not so dangerous to the commonwealth of letters as to deserve such severe reproof. Besides which, we may suppose that some of these writers did not deviate from Pindar's method through ignorance, but by choice; and that as their odes were not to be performed with both singing and dancing, in the manner of Pindar's, it seemed unnecessary to confine the first and second stanzas to the same exact number as was done in his strophes and antistrophes. The poet therefore had a right to indulge himself with more liberty and we cannot help thinking, that the ode which Mr Dryden has given us, entitled, Alexander's Feast, or the Power of Music, is altogether as valuable in loose and wild numbers, as it could have been if the stanzas were more regular, and written in the manner of Pindar. In this ode there is a wonderful sublimity of thought, a loftiness and sweetness of expression, and a most pleasing variety of numbers.

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Assumes the god,

Affects to nod,

And seems to shake the spheres.

Chor. With ravish'd ears, &c.

The praise of Bacchus then the sweet musician sung;
Of Bacchus ever fair and ever young:
The jolly god in triumph comes;
Sound the trumpets, beat the drums:
Flush'd with a purple grace,

He shows his honest face:

Now give the hautboys breath; he comes, he comes!
Bacchus, ever fair and young,

Drinking joys did first ordain:
Bacchus' blessings are a treasure,
Drinking is the soldier's pleasure:
Rich the treasure,
Sweet the pleasure :

Sweet the pleasure after pain.

Chor. Bacchus blessings, &c.

Sooth'd with the sound, the king grew vain,
Fought all his battles o'er again;
And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he slew
the slain.

The master saw the madness rise;
His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes;
And while he heav'n and earth defy'd,
Chang'd his hand, and check'd his pride.
He chose a mournful muse
Soft pity to infuse:

He sung Darius great and good,
By too severe a fate,
Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen,

Fallen from his high estate,
And welt'ring in his blood;
Deserted at his utmost need,
By those his former bounty fed,

On the bare earth expos'd he lies,

With not a friend to close his eyes. With downcast looks the joyless victor sat, Revolving in his alter'd soul

The various turns of chance below; And now and then a sigh he stole,

And tears began to flow.

Chor. Revolving, &c.

The mighty master smil'd to see
That love was in the next degree:
'Twas but a kindred sound to move;
For pity melts the mind to love.

Softly sweet, in Lydian measures.
Soon he sooth'd his soul to pleasures.
War, he sung, is toil and trouble;
Honour but an empty bubble,

Never ending, still beginning,
Fighting still, and still destroying.
If the world be worth thy winning,
Think, O think, it worth enjoying.
Lovely Thais sits beside thee,

Take the good the gods provide thee.
The many rend the skies with loud applause ;
So love was crown'd, but music won the cause.
The prince, unable to conceal his pain,

Gaz'd on the fair, ‹ Who caus'd his care,

B

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Of Lyric Poetry.

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