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Now catch the music of the spheres ;
Which, since the birth of time,
Have, in according chime,
And fair proportion, rolling round,

With each diviner sound,

Attentive Silence, pierc'd thy list'ning ears;
Unheard by all, but those alone

Whom to Wisdom's secret throne

The Muse, with heav'n-taught guidance, deigns to bring,

To trace the sacred paths with hallow'd feet;
Or, Fancy, who the mystic shade,

In thy airy car, pervade,

Where Plato's raptur'd spirit holds its solemn seat.

But, Fancy, downward urge thy flight,
On some mountain's towering height,
With hoary frosts eternal crown'd,
Rapt with dusky vapours round,
Let me fix my stedfast feet.
I feel, I feel the fanning gales;
The wat❜ry mists beneath retreat.
The noontide ray now darts its heat,
And pours its glories o'er the vales.
Glittering to the dancing beams,
Urging their stubborn way the 1ocks among,
I hear, and see a thousand streams
Foam, and roar, and rush along.
But to the plains descended,
Their sudden rage is ended.

Now lost in deep recess of darksome bowers,
Again now sparkling through the meads
Vested soft with vernal flowers,
Reflecting the majestic towers,

Its peaceful flood the roving channel leads.
There the rural cots are seen,

From whose low roof the curling smoke ascends,
And dims with blueish volumes all the green.
There some forest far extends

Its groves embrown'd with lengthen'd shade;
Embosom'd where some Gothic seat,
Of monarchs once retreat,
In wild magnificence array'd,
The pride of ancient times presents,
And lifts, in contrast fair display'd,
Its sun reflecting battlements.

Near, some imperial city seems to reign,
Triumphant o'er the subject land;
With domes of art Vitruvian crown'd.
See gleam her gilded spires around,
Her gates in aweful grandeur stand.
Equal to shine in peace, or war sustain,

Her mighty bulwarks threat the plain

With many a work of death, and armed mound,
Where rolls her wealthy river deep and wide,
Tall groves of crowded masts arise,

Their streamers waving to the skies.
The banks are white with swelling sails,
And distant vessels stem the tide,

Circling through pendant cliffs, and watery dales.
The russet hills, the valleys green beneath,
The fallows brown, and dusky heath,
The yellow corn, empurpled vine,
In union soft their tints combine,
And, Fancy, all engage thine eye
With a sweet variety.

While clouds the fleeting clouds pursue,
In mutual shade, and mutual light,
The changing landscape meets the sight;
'Till the ken no more can view,

And heaven appears to meet the ground;
The rising lands, and azure distance drown'd
Amid the gay horizon's golden bound.

Such are the scenes that oft invite
To feed thee, Fancy, with delight.
All that nature can create,
Beauteous, aweful, new and great,
Sweet enthusiast, is thy treasure,
Source of wonder, and of pleasure;
Every sense to transport winning,
Still unbounded and beginning.
Then, Fancy, spread thy wings again;
Unlock the caverns of the main.
Above, beneath, and all around,

Let the tumbling billows spread,
'Till the coral floor we tread,

Exploring all the wealth that decks the realms profound;

There, gather gems that long have glow'd

In the vast, unknown abode,

The jasper vein'd, the sapphire blue,
The ruby bright with crimson hue,
Whate'er the bed resplendent paves,

Or decks the glittering roofs on high,
Through whose translucent arch are seen the rolling

waves.

Fancy, these shall clasp thy vest,
With these thy lovely brows be drest,

In every gay, and various dye.
But hark!-the seas begin to roar,
The whistling winds assault my ear,
The louring storms around appear-
Fancy, bear me to the shore.

There in thy realms, bright goddess, deign
Secure to fix thy votary's feet:

O give to follow oft thy train,

Still with accustom'd lay thy power to greet;
To dwell with Peace, and sport with thee,
Fancy, ever fair and free.

ODE XIV.

ΤΟ

FANCY.

BY WILLIAM HAMILTON, ESQ.

Of BANGOUR.

FANCY, bright and winged Maid!
In thy night-drawn car convey'd,
O'er the green earth and wide-spread main,
A thousand shadows in thy train,

A vary'd air-embody'd host,

To don what shapes thou pleasest most;
Brandish no more thy scorpion stings
Around the destin'd couch of kings;
Nor in rebellion's ghastly size
A dire gigantic spectre rise:

Cease, for a while, in rooms of state
To damp the slumbers of the Great ;
In Merit's lean-look'd form t'appear,
And hollow Traitor in their ear:
Or Freedom's holier garb bely,
While Justice grinds her axe fast by:
Nor o'er the Miser's eye-lids pour
The unrefreshing golden show'r;

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