Is all the proud and mighty have- And see the rivers, how they run Through woods and meads, in shade and sun;. When will the landscape tire the view? See on the mountain's southern side, Which to those who journey near, Content me with an humble shade, Now, e'en now, my joys run high. Be full, ye courts! be great who will; Search for Peace with all. your skill Seek her on the marble floor: "; In vain ye search, she is not there; } DYER CHAPTER VIII. HYMN TO ADVERSITY. DAUGHTER of Jove, relentless pow'r, Thou tamer of the human breast, Whose iron scourge and tort'ring hour, The bad affright, afflict the best! Bound in thy adamantine chain, The proud are taught to taste of pain, With pangs unfelt before, unpitied and alone. When first thy sire to send on earth What Sorrow was, thou bad'st her know, And from her own she learn'd to melt at others' wo. Scar'd 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 flatt'ring Foe; By vain Prosperity receiv'd, To her they vow their truth, and are again believ❜d. Wisdom, in sable garb array'd, Immers'd in rapt'rous thought profound, And Melancholy, silent maid, With leaden eye, that loves the ground, Still on thy solemn steps attend: Warm Charity, the gen'ral friend, With Justice, to herself severe, And Pity, dropping soft the sadly-pleasing tear. Oh, gently on thy suppliant's head, Dread Goddess, lay thy chast'ning hand! Not in thy Gorgon terrors clad, Nor circled with the vengeful band (As by the impious thou art seen) With thund'ring voice, and threat'ning mien, Despair, and fell Disease, and ghastly Poverty. Thy form benign, oh Goddess! wear, The gen'rous spark extinct revive,- Exact my own defects to scan, What others are to feel, and know myself a man. GRAY CHAPTER IX. ODE ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF ETON COLLEGE. YE distant spires, ye antique towers, That crown the wary glade, Where grateful Science still adores Her HENRY's holy slade: And ye that from the stately brow OF WINDOOR's heights th' expanse below Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey, Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowers among Wanders the hoary THAMES along His silver-winding way. Ah, happy hills! ah, pleasing shade! Where once my careless childhood stray'd, I feel the gales that from ye blow, As waving fresh their gladsome wing To breathe a second spring. Say, father THAMES, (for thou hast seen To chase the rolling circle's speed, Whilst some, on earnest bus'ness bent, Their murm'ring labours ply 'Gainst graver hours, that bring constraint To sweeten liberty: Some bold adventurers disdain The limits of their little reign, And unknown regions dare descry: |