ODES.

CLASS THE FIRST.

ODE I.

TO AMBITION.

BY R. SHEPHERD, D.D.

O'ER midnight glass, or by the Fair

In dalliance soft caress'd:

Without a thought, without a care

To discompose their rest,

The meaner herd exulting pant to rove

The flowery paths of pleasure's fairy grove.

While more determin'd bosoms glow

With high Ambition's fires:

Source of whate'er is great below,

The grave of mean desires :

Adieu for them the pleasure-winged hour, Adieu the bed of ease, the Paphian bower!

Tho' rough the paths that lead to Fame,

Their steps no toils dismay; Ambition aids the generous aim,

And smooths the rugged way:

With all its lustre bids bright Virtue shine,
And into action wakes the big design.

What breakes th' aspiring statesman's rest?
What gives the Muse to sing?
Ambition wakes his anxious breast,
And plumes her towering wing:

Instructs the feeble Monarch how to bear
The crown, and all the thorns that fasten there.

The General's wakeful bosom fires,
And guards the jealous camp;
The scholar's flattering hope inspires,

And trims the midnight lamp;

The pride of arts from fair Ambition springs, And blooms secure beneath her fostering wings.

Oft, Goddess, as thy genial ray
Pervades the feeling heart,

Love trembling quits his sensual sway,

And drops his feeble dart :

The flowers, that in the Paphian garden grow,

Fade in the wreath that rounds the hero's brow,