Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose, And my fause luver staw the rose, But left the thorn wi' me. R. BURNS. 140. THE PROgress of poesy. A Pindaric Ode. Awake, Aeolian lyre, awake, And give to rapture all thy trembling strings. A thousand rills their mazy progress take : Deep, majestic, smooth, and strong, Through verdant vales, and Ceres' golden reign: The rocks and nodding groves re-bellow to the roar. O Sovereign of the willing soul, And frantic Passions hear thy soft control. And dropt his thirsty lance at thy command. Of Jove, thy magic lulls the feather'd king The terror of his beak, and lightnings of his eye. Thee the voice, the dance, obey, The rosy-crowned Loves are seen With antic Sport, and blue-eyed Pleasures, Now in circling troops they meet: Slow melting strains their Queen's approach declare: Where'er she turns the Graces homage pay: With arms sublime that float upon the air In gliding state she wins her easy way : O'er her warm cheek and rising bosom move 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 war. 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. Glory pursue, and generous Shame, Th' unconquerable Mind, and Freedom's holy flame. Woods, that wave o'er Delphi's steep, Isles, that crown th' Aegean deep, Or where Mæander's amber waves How do your tuneful echoes languish, Left their Parnassus for the Latian plains. They sought, O Albion! next, thy sea-encircled coast. Far from the sun and summer-gale In thy green lap was Nature's Darling laid, To him the mighty Mother did unveil Her awful face: the dauntless Child Thine, too, these golden keys, immortal Boy! This can unlock the gates of Joy ; Of Horror that, and thrilling Fears, Or ope the sacred source of sympathetic Tears. 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 pace. Hark, his hands the lyre explore! Bright-eyed Fancy, hovering o'er, 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, Thro' the azure deep of air: Yet oft before his infant eyes would run Such forms as glitter in the Muse's ray With orient hues, unborrow'd of the sun : 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. L T. GRAY. 141. THE PASSIONS. An Ode for Music. When Music, heavenly maid, was young, First Fear his hand, its skill to try, Next Anger rush'd, his eyes on fire, With woeful measures wan Despair- |