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ODE XLV.

TO

SOLITUDE.

BY JOSEPH WARTON, D.D.

Thou, that at deep dead of night
Walk'st forth beneath the pale moon's light,
In robe of flowing black array’d,
While cypress-leaves thy brows o’ershade :
Listening to the crowing cock,
And the distant sounding clock;
Or sitting in thy cavern low,
Dost hear the bleak winds loudly blow,
Or the hoarse death-boding owl,
Or village mastiff's wakeful howl,
While through thy melancholy room
A dim lamp casts an awful gloom :
Thou, that on the meadow green,
Or daisy'd upland, art not seen,
But wandering by the dusky nooks,
And the pensive-falling brooks,
Or near some rugged, herbless rock,
Where no shepherd keeps his flock !
Musing Maid, to thee I come,
Hating the tradeful city's hum:

O let me calmly dwell with thee, From noisy mirth and business free; With Meditation seek the skies, This folly-fetter'd world despise !

ODE XLVI.

TO

SOLITUDE.

BY JAMES GRAINGER, M. D.

O SOLÍTudel romantic maid,
Whether by nodding towers you tread,
Or haunt the desert's trackless gloom,
Or hover o'er the yawning tomb,
Or climb the Andes' clifted side,
Or by the Nile's coy source abide,
Or starting from your half-year's sleep
From Hecla view the thawing deep,
Or at the purple dawn of day,
Tadmor's marble wastes survey ;

You, Recluse, again I woo,
And again your steps pursue.

Plum'd Conceit himself surveying, Folly with her shadow playing, Purse-proud, elbowing Insolence, Bloated empiric, puff's Pretence, Noise that through a trumpet speaks, Laughter in loud peals that breaks,

Intrusion with a fopling's face
(Ignorant of time and place),
Sparks of fire Dissention blowing,
Ductile, court-bred Flattery, bowing,
Restraint's stiff neck, Grimace's leer,
Squint-ey'd Censure's artful sneer,
Ambition's buskins steep'd' in blood,
Fly thy presence, Solitude.

Sage Reflection bent with years,
Conscious Virtue void of fears,
Muffled Silence, wood-nymph shy,
Meditation's piercing eye,
Halcyon Peace on moss reclin'd,
Retrospect that scans the mind,
Rapt earth-gazing Resvery,
Blushing artless Modesty,
Health that snuffs the morning air,
Full-ey'd Truth with bosom bare,
Inspiration, Nature's child,
Seek the solitary wild.

You with the tragic Muse retir'd
The wise Euripides inspir’d;
You taught the sadly-pleasing air
That Athens sav'd from ruins bare.
You gave the Cean's tears to flow,
And unlock'd the springs of woe;
You penn'd what exil'd Naso thought,
And pour'd the melancholy note.

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With Petrarch o'er Valcluse you stray'd,
When Death snatch'd his long-lov'd maid;
You taught the rocks her loss to mourn,
You strew'd with flow'rs her virgin urn.
And late in Hagley you were seen,
With blood-shed eyes, and sombre mien,
Hymen his yellow vestment tore,
And Dirge a wreath of cypress wore.
But chief your own the solemn lay
That wept Narcissa young
Darkness clapp'd her sable wing,
While

you touch'd the mournful string,
Anguish left the pathless wild,
Grim.fac'd Melancholy smild,
Drowsy Midnight ceas'd to yawn,
The starry host put back the dawn,
Aside their harps ev'n Seraphs Alung
To hear the sweet Complaint, O Young.

and gay,

leave your

When all Nature's hush'd asleep,
Nor Love nor Guilt their vigils keep,
Soft you

cavern'd den,
And wander o'er the works of men.
But when Phosphor brings the dawn,
By her dappled coursers drawn,
Again you to the wild retreat,
And the early huntsman meet,
Where, as you pensive pace along,
You catch the distant shepherd's song,

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