WHEN I have borne in memory what has tamed Verily, in the bottom of my heart. Of those unfilial fears I am ashamed. For dearly must we prize thee; we who find In thee a bulwark for the cause of men; And I by my affection was beguiled. WORDSWORTH. Τὸ μέλλον ἥξει. Καὶ σύ μ' ἐν τάχει παρὼν Eschyl. Agam. 1225 ARGUMENT. THE Ode commences with an address to the Divine Providence, that regulates into one vast harmony all the events of time, however calamitous some of them may appear to mortals. The second Strophe calls on men to suspend their private joys and sorrows, and devote them for a while to the cause of human nature in general. The first Epode speaks of the Empress of Russia, who died of an apoplexy on the 17th of November, 1796; having just concluded a subsidiary treaty with the Kings combined against France. The first and second Antistrophe describe the image of the Departing Year, &c. as in a vision. The second Epode prophecies, in anguish of spirit, the downfall of this country. I. SPIRIT Who Sweepest the wild harp of Time! This Ode was composed on the 24th, 25th, and 26th days of December, 1796; and was first published on the last day of that year. Starting from my silent sadness Then with no unholy madness Ere yet the entered cloud foreclosed my sight, II. Hither, from the recent tomb, From distemper's midnight anguish; And thence, where poverty doth waste and languish ! Or where, his two bright torches blending, Love illumines manhood's maze; Or where o'er cradled infants bending Ye Woes! ye young-eyed Joys! advance! By Time's wild harp, and by the hand Raises its fateful strings from sleep, And each domestic hearth, Haste for one solemn hour; And with a loud and yet a louder voice, Still echoes the dread name that o'er the earth Justice and Truth! They too have heard thy spell! III. I marked Ambition in his war-array! I heard the mailed Monarch's troublous cry- Stunned by Death's twice mortal mace, The insatiate hag shall gloat with drunken eye! Ye that gasped on Warsaw's plain! Sudden blasts of triumph swelling, Oft, at night, in misty train, Rush around her narrow dwelling! The exterminating fiend is fled— Dance, like death-fires, round her tomb! Then with prophetic song relate, Each some tyrant-murderer's fate! IV. Departing Year! 'twas on no earthly shore |