O come, in simplest vest array'd, No more by varying passions beat, Simplicity in Attic vest, And Innocence with candid breast, And Hope, who points to distant years, There Health, through whose calm bosom glitte That rarely ebb or flow; Her influence taught the Phrygian sage, With settled smiles to meet : But thou, O Nymph retir'd and coy! The lowliest children of the ground, O say what soft propitious hour When Eve, her dewy star beneath, If such an hour was e'er thy choice, MRS. BARBAULD.. I see, I see thee near. I know thy hurried step, thy haggard eye! On whom that rav'ning brood of Fate, Thou who such weary lengths hast pass'd, 'Gainst which the big waves beat, Hear drowning seamen's cries in tempests brought, Which thy awak'ning bards have told, O thou whose spirit most possess'd Teach me but once like him to feel; cypress wreath my meed decree, And I, O Fear! will dwell with thee. COLLINS. CHAP. XIV. ODE TO TRUTH. SAY, will no white-rob'd Son of Light, Swift darting from his heav'nly height, Here deign to take kis hallow'd stand; Here wave his amber locks; unfold His pinions cloth'd with downy gold; Here smiling stretch his tutelary wand? And you, ye host of Saints, for ye have known Each dreary path in Life's perplexing maze, Though now ye circle yon eternal throne, With harpings high of inexpressive praise, Will not your train descend in radiant state, To break with Mercy's beam this gath'ring cloud of Fate? "Tis silence all. No Son of Light Darts swiftly from his heav'nly height. No train of radiant Saints descend. Mortals, in vain ye hope to find, If guilt, if fraud has stain'd your mind, "Or Saint to hear, or Angel to defend." So Truth proclaims. I hear the sacred sound Burst from the centre of her burning throne: Where aye she sits with star-wreath'd lustre crown'd: A bright Sun clasps her adamantine zone. So Truth proclaims: her awful voice I hear: With many a solemn pause it slowly meets my ear. "Attend, ye Sons of Men; attend, and say, "Does not enough of my refulgent ray "Break through the veil of your mortality? "Say, does not Reason in this form descry "Unnumber'd, nameless glories, that surpass "The Angel's floating pomp, the Seraph's glowing grace? "Shall then your earth-born daughters vie "With me? Shall she, whose brightest eye "But emulates the di'mond's blaze, "Whose cheek but mocks the peach's bloom, "Whose breath the hyacinth's perfume, "Whose melting voice the warbling woodlark's lays, "Shall she be deem'd my rival? Shall a form "Of elemental dross, of mould'ring clay, "Vie with these charms imperial? The poor worm Life's little day "Shall prove her contest vain. "Shall pass, and she is gone; while I appear "Flush'd with the bloom of youth through Heav'n's eternal 66 year. "Know, Mortals know, ere first ye sprung, "Ere first these orbs in ether hung, "I shone amid the heav'nly throng; "These eyes beheld Creation's day, "This voice began the choral lay, "And taught archangels their triumphant song. "Pleas'd I survey'd bright Nature's gradual birth, "Saw infant Light with kindling lustre spread, "Soft vernal fragrance clothe the flow'ring earth, "And Ocean heave on it's extended bed; "Saw the tall pine aspiring pierce the sky, "The tawny lion stalk, the rapid eagle fly. "Last, Man arose, erect in youthful grace, "Heav'n's hallow'd image stamp'd upon his face; "And, as he rose, the high behest was given "That I alone, of all the host of Heav'n, "Should reign Protectress of the godlike Youth: "Thus the Almighty spake: he spake and call'd me Truth." MASON. CHAP. XV. ODE TO FANCY. PARENT of each lovely muse, |