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Thou'll break my heart, thou bonnie bird
That sings beside thy mate ;
And wist na o' my fate.
To see the woodbine twine;
And sae did I o mine.
Wi’ lightsome heart I pu'd a rose,
Frae aff its thorny tree ;
THE PROGRESS OF POESY
A Pindaric Ode
Awake, Aeolian lyre, awake,
A thousand rills their mazy progress take :
O Sovereign of the willing soul,
And frantic Passions hear thy soft control.
And dropt his thirsty lance at thy command.
Thee the voice, the dance, obey
O'er Idalia's velvet green
The rosy-crowned Loves are seen On Cytherea's day,
With antic Sports, and blue-eyed Pleasures,
Frisking light in frolic measures ; Now pursuing, now retreating,
Now in circling troops they meet : To brisk notes in cadence beating
Glance their many-twinkling feet. Slow melting strains their Queen's approach declare:
Where'er she turns the Graces homage pay : With arms sublime that fioat upon the air
In gliding state she wins her easy way : O’er her warm cheek and rising bosom move The bloom of young Desire and purple light of
Man's feeble race what ills await ! Labour, and Penury, the racks of Pain, Disease, and Sorrow's weeping train,
And Death, sad refuge from the storms of Fate ! The fond complaint, my song, disprove, And justify the laws of Jove. Say, has he given in vain the heavenly Muse ? Night, and all her sickly dews, Her spectres wan, and birds of boding cry He gives to range the dreary sky : Till down the eastern cliffs afar Hyperion's march they spy, and glittering shafts of
In climes beyond the solar road, Where shaggy forms o'er ice-built mountains roam, The Muse has broke the twilight gloom
To cheer the shivering native's dull abode. And oft, beneath the odorous shade Of Chili's boundless forests laid, She deigns to hear the savage youth repeat In loose numbers wildly sweet Their feather-cinctured chiefs, and dusky loves. Her track, where'er the Goddess roves, Glory pursue, and generous Shame, Th' unconquerable Mind, and Freedom's holy
Woods, that wave o'er Delphi's steep,
Fields that cool Ilissus laves,
Or where Maeander's amber waves In lingering lab’rinths creep,
How do your tuneful echoes languish, Mute, but to the voice of anguish ! Where each old poetic mountain
Inspiration breath'd around ;
Murmur'd deep a solemn sound :
Left their Parnassus for the Latian plains.
And coward Vice, that revels in her chains. 80 When Latium had her lofty spirit lost, They sought, 0 Albion, next thy sea-encircled
Far from the sun and summer-gale
To him the mighty Mother did unveil
This pencil take (she said), whose colours clear
Nor second He, that rode sublime Upon the seraph-wings of Ecstasy, The secrets of the Abyss to spy :
He pass’d the flaming bounds of Place and Time : The living Throne, the sapphire-blaze, Where Angels tremble while they gaze, He saw ; but blasted with excess of light, Closed his eyes in endless night. Behold where Dryden's less presumptuous car Wide o’er the fields of Glory bear Two coursers of ethereal race With necks in thunder clothed, and long-resounding
Hark, his hands the lyre explore !
109 Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn. But ah ! 'tis heard no more
O! Lyre divine, what daring Spirit
Wakes thee now? Tho' he inherit Nor the pride, nor ample pinion,
That the Theban Eagle bear,
Thro' the azure deep of air :
Such forms as glitter in the Muse's ray
Yet shall he mount, and keep his distant way Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate : Beneath the Good how far—but far above the Great.
An Ode for Music
Amid the chords bewilder'd laid,
E'en at the sound himself had made.
Next Anger rush’d, his eyes on fire,
In lightnings own'd his secret stings ; In one rude clash he struck the lyre
And swept with hurried hand the strings. With woeful measures wan Despair,
Low sullen sounds, his grief beguiled, A solemn, strange, and mingled air,
'Twas sad by fits, by starts 'twas wild. But thou, O Hope, with eyes so fair,
What was thy delightful measure ? Still it whisper'd promised pleasure
And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail !