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And look not madly wild , like thee?

Thou who such weary lengths hast past,
Where wilt thou rest rmad Nymph , at last?
Say , wilt thou shroud in haunted cell,
Where gloomy Rape and Murder dwell?
Or in some hollow'd seat,
*Gainst which the big waves beat,
Hear drowning seamen's cries io tempests broughtr.
Dark power , with shuddering meek submitted.

Be mine , to react the visions old,
WTiich thv awakening bards have told,
And lest thou meet my blasted view,
Hold each strange tale devoutly true;
Ne'er be I found , by thee o'er-awli,
In that thrice haliow'd eve abroad ,
W^hen ghosts, as cottage maids believe ,
Their pebbled beds permitted leave.,
And goblins haunt,. from fire, or fen,
Or mine , or flood , the walks of men!

O thou whose spirit most possest
The sacred seat of Shakespeare's breast?'
By all that from thy prophet broke ,
In thy. divine emotions spoke;
Hither again thy fury deal,
Teach me but once like him to feel;
His cypress wreath my meed decree ,
And I, O Fear ! will dwell with thee. Goilins..

C II A P. X I V.
Ode to Truth\

Oat , will no white-rob'd Son of Light r
Swift darting from his heav'nly height,

Here deign to take his haliow'd stand;
Here wave his amber locks ; unfold
His pinions clolh'd with downy gold;

Here smiling stretch His tutelary -wand?

And you, ye host of Saints, for ye have known

Each dreary path in, Life's perplexing maze j

Tho' now ye circle yon eternal throne,

"With harpings high of inexpressive praise,
"Will not your train descend in radiant state ,

To break with Mercy's beam this gathering cloud
of Fate?
'Tis silence all. No Son of Light
Darts swiftly from his hear'nly height:

No train of radiant Saints descend.
« Mortals , in vain ye hope to find ,,
If guilt, if fraud has stain'd your" mind,
Or Saint to hear , or Angel to defend. »
So Truth proclaims. I hear the sacred sound

Burst from the centre of her burning throne: "Where aye she sits with star-wreath'd lustre crown'd:

A bright Sun clasps her adamantine zone.-'
So Truth proclaims: her awful voice I hear :-

"With many a solemn pause it slowly meets my ear.
« Attend, ye Sons of Men; attend and say,.
Does not enough of my refulgent ray
Break thro' the veil of your mortality!
Say, does not reason in this form descry

EJnnumber'd, nameless glories, that surpass

The Angel's floating pomp, the Seraph's glowing',
Shall then your earth born daughters vie
Wuh me ? Shall she, whose brightest eye

But emulates the diamond's blaze ,
"Whose cheek but mocks the peach's bloom ,
Whose breath the hyacinth's perfume, -

Whose melting voice the warbling woodlarkV lays ,. Shall she be deem'd my rival? Snail a form,

Of elemental dross , of mould'ring clay ,,

Vie with these charms imperial? The poor worm.

Shall prove her contest vain. Life's little day
Shall pass , and she is gone ; while I appear

Flush'd withthe bloom of youth thro' Heav'n's-
eternal year;
a Know , Mortals know, ere first ye sprung ,,
Ere first these oxbs in aether hung, ,

I shone amid the heav'nly throng;
These eyes beheld Creation's day ,
This voice began the choral lay ,
And taught Archangels their triumphant song.

Pleas'd 1 survey'd bright Nature's gradual -birth,
Saw infant Light with kindling lustre spread ,
Soft vernal fragrance clothe the flow'ring earth,
And Ocean heave on its extended bed;
Saw the tall pine aspiring pierce the sky,
The tawny lion stalk , the rapid eagle fly.
« Last, Man arose, erect in youthful grace,
Heav'n's hallow'd image stamp'd upon his face)
And, as he rose, the nigh behest was given
'That I alone, of all the host of heav'n,
'Should reign Protectress of the godlike Youth:'
Thus the Almighty spake ; he spake and call'd me
Truth, a Mason*

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Chap. XV.
Ode to Fancy.

Parent of each lovely Muse,
Thy spirit o'er my soul diffuse,
O'er all my artless songs preside ,
My footsteps to thy temple guide,
To offer at thy turf-built shrine,
In goldtn cups no costly wine,
No murder'd failing of the flock ,
But flowers and honey from the rock.

O Nymph wilh loosely flowing hair-,
With buskin'd leg , and bosom bare ,
Thy waist with myrtle-girdle bound ,
Thy brows with Indian feathers crown'd ,
Waving in thy snowy hand
An all-commanding magic wand ,
Of pow'r to bid fresh gardens grow
'Mid cheerless Lapland's barren snow,
Whose rapid wings thy fight convey
Thro'air, and over earth and sea ,
While the various landscape lie*

Conspicuous to thy piercing eyes!

O loves of the desert, hail!

Sav in what deep and pathless vale ,

Or on what hoary mountain's side,

'Midst falls of water you reside,

'Midst broken rocks, a nigged scene ,

With green and grassy dales between ,

'Midst forest dark of aged oak ,

Ne'er echoing with the woodman's stroke r

Where never human art appear'd,

Nor e'en one straw-roof'd cot was rear'd ,.

Where Nature seems to sit alone ,

Majestic on a craggy throne:

Tell me the path , sweet wand'rer tell,

To thy unknown sequester'd cell,
Where woodbines cluster round the door r
Where shells and moss o'erlay the floor,

And on whose top an hawthorn blows ,

Amid whose thickly woven boughs

Some nightingale still builds her nest,

Each evening warbling thee to rest:

Then lay me by thexhaunted stream,.

Rapt in some wild, poetic dream ,

In converse while methinks I rove

With Spenser thro' a fairy grove;

Till suddenly awak'd , I hear

Strange whisper'd music in my ear ,

And my glad soul in bliss is drown'd y..

By the swetly soothing sound!

Me, Goddess , by the right-hand lead ,,

Sometimes thro^the yellow mead ,

Where joy and white-rob'd Peace resort r

And Venus keeps her festive court,

Where Mirth and Youth each evening meet r

And lightly trip with nimble feet,

Nodding their lily crowned heads 5

Where laughter rose-Iip'd Hebe leads }.

Where Echo walks steep hills among,

List'ning to the shepherd's song.
Yet not these flow'ry fields of joy

Can, long my pensive mind employ:-'

Haste , Fancy, from these scenes of folly

To meet the matron Melancholy,

Goddess of the tearful eye ,

That loves to fold her arms and sigh!

Let us with silent footsteps go

To charnels and the house of woe,

To Gothic churches, vaults and tombs ,

"Where each sad night some virgin comes ,,

With throbbing breast, and faded cheek ,

Her promis'd bridegrooms urn to seek:

Or to some Abbey's mould'ring tow'rs,

Where to avoid cold winter's show'rs,

The naked beggar shiv'ring lies,

Whilst whist'iing tempests round her rise,j

And trembles lest the tottering wall

Should on her sleeping infants fall.

Now let us louder strike the lyre ,. For my heart glows with martial tire , I feel, I feel, with sudden heat, My big tumultuous bosom beat;. The trumpets' clangors pierce mine ear, A thousand widows' shrieks I hear; 'Give me another horse, 'I cry, Lo ! the base Gallic squadrons fly; Whence is this rage—What spirit, say,. To battle hurries me away? Tis Fancy, in her fiery car v Transports me to the thickest war, There whirls me o'er the hills of slain , Where Tumult and Destruction reigu; Where mad with pain, the wounded steed,-, Tramples the dying and the dead; Where giant Terror stalks around, Wuh-sullen joy surveys the ground, And pointing to th' ensanguin'd field ,. Shakes his dreadful Gorgon-Shield! O guide me from this horrid scene To high-arch'd walks and alleys green ,, Which lovely Laura seeks, to shun The fervours of the mid-day sun; The pangs of absence ,0 remove.^,

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