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Deserted stream, and mute?
Wild Arun too has heard thy strains,
There first the wren in myrtles shed
Come, Pity, come, by Fancy's aid,
Its southern site, its truth complete,
There Picture's toils shall well relate,
The buskin'd Muse shall near her stand,
There let me aft, retir'd by day,
To hear a British shell!
The river Arun runs by the village in Sussex, where Otway had his birth.
ODE TO FEAR.
THOU, to whom the world unknown,
I see, I see thee near.
I know thy hurried step; thy haggard eye!
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.
* Alluding to the Kuvar aquara; of Sophocles. See the Electra.
Yet he, the bard* who first invok'd thy name,
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, With trembling eyes thy dreary steps to trace, Where thou and furies shar'd the baleful grove?
Wrapt in thy cloudy veil, th' incestuous + queen Sigh'd the sad call her son and husband heard, When once alone it broke the silent scene,
And he the wretch of Thebes no more appear❜d.
O Fear, I know thee by my throbbing heart:
Thou who such weary lengths hast past,
'Gainst which the big waves beat,'
Hear drowning seamen's cries, in tempests brought? Dark power, with shudd'ring meek submitted thought.
Ην μεν Σιωπη; φθεγμα δ' εξαίφνης τινος
• Στησαι φόβω δεισανίας εξαιφνης Τρίχας.
See the Edip. Colon. of Sophocles.
Be mine to read the visions old
O thou whose spirit most possest
Teach me but once like him to feel:
ODE TO SIMPLICITY.
O THOU, by Nature taught
To breathe her genuine thought,
In numbers warmly pure, and sweetly strong;
In Fancy, loveliest child,
Thy babe, or Pleasure's, nurs'd the powers of song!
Thou, who, with hermit heart,
And gauds, and pageant weeds, and training pall;
But com'st a decent maid,
In attic robe array'd,
O chaste, unboastful Nymph, to thee I call!
By all the honey'd store
On Hybla's thymy shore;
By all her blooms, and mingled murmurs dear;
In evening musings slow,
Sooth'd sweetly sad Electra's poet's ear:
By old Cephisus deep,
Who spread his wavy sweep,
In warbled wanderings, round thy green retreat;
On whose enamell'd side,
When holy Freedom died,
No equal haunt allur'd thy future feet.
O sister meek of Truth,
To my admiring youth,
Thy sober aid and native charms infuse!
Though Beauty cull'd the wreath,
Still ask thy hand to range their order'd hues.
While Rome could none esteem
But virtue's patriot theme,
You lov'd her hills, and led her laureat band:
To one distinguish'd throne;
And turn'd thy face, and fled her alter'd land.
No more, in hall or bow'r,
The Passions own thy power;
Love, only Love her forceless numbers mean:
Nor olive more, nor vine,
Shall gam thy feet to bless the servile scene.
*The andwy, or nightingale, for which Sophocles
eems to have entertained a peculiar fondness.