ODES. CLASS THE FIRST. ODE I. TO AMBITION. BY R. SHEPHERD, D.D. O'ER midnight glass, or by the Fair To discompose their rest, The meaner herd exulting pant to rove 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, What breakes th' aspiring statesman's rest? Instructs the feeble Monarch how to bear The crown, and all the thorns that fasten there. The General's wakeful bosom fires, The pride of arts from fair Ambition springs, 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, Pleasure retreats with wanton smiles, And Strength-unnerving eyes; Hoping in vain by Parthian wiles To conquer as she flies: Sloth with reluctance quits her foul embrace, Virtue with firm quaternion band His eager steps precedes ; To light to glorious deeds: The sister-train his toils with glory crown, By these inspir'd young Scipio trod To Fame th' adventurous way; A nobler quarry lures the hero's eye :" Hence then, ye Slaves, whom Ease delights, Where monkish apathy invites True Worth, that spurns the hermit's sluggard cell, ODE II. ON AMBITION. BY SIR JAMES MARRIOT, BART. THE mariner, when first he sails, Such young Ambition's fearless aim, Pleas'd with the gorgeous scene of wealth and power, In the gay morn of early fame, Nor thinks of evening's storm and gloomy hour. Life's opening views bright charms reveal, Feed the fond wish, and fan the youthful fire; But woes unknown those charms conceal, And fair illusions cheat our fierce desire. There Envy shows her sullen mien, With changeful colour, grinning smiles of hate : In deadly silence, treacherous Friendships wait. High on a mountain's lofty brow, 'Mid clouds and storms, has glory fix'd her seat; Within the sun-gilt vale beneath, More moderate Hope with sweet Contentment dwells; To better genius ever blind, That points to each in varied life his share, Our native powers we scorn to know ; With stedfast error still the wrong pursue; Instruct our forward ills to grow ; While sad successes but our pain renew. In vain heaven tempers life with sweet, With flowers the way, that leads us home, bestrews, If dupes to passion, and deceit, We drink the bitter, and the rugged choose. Few can on Grandeur's stage appear, Each lofty part with true applause sustain, No common virtue safe can steer Where rocks unnumber'd lurk beneath the main. |