Part 30 (1/2)
[Footnote 1: Smollett, imagining himself ill-treated by Lord Lyttelton, wrote the above burlesque on that n.o.bleman's Monody on the death of his lady.]
ODE TO MIRTH.
Parent of joy! heart-easing Mirth!
Whether of Venus or Aurora born, Yet G.o.ddess sure of heavenly birth, Visit benign a son of grief forlorn: Thy glittering colours gay, Around him, Mirth, display, And o'er his raptured sense Diffuse thy living influence: So shall each hill, in purer green array'd, And flower adorn'd in new-born beauty glow, 10 The grove shall smooth the horrors of the shade, And streams in murmurs shall forget to flow.
s.h.i.+ne, G.o.ddess! s.h.i.+ne with unremitted ray, And gild (a second sun) with brighter beam our day.
Labour with thee forgets his pain, And aged Poverty can smile with thee; If thou be nigh, Grief's hate is vain, And weak the uplifted arm of Tyranny.
The morning opes on high His universal eye, 20 And on the world doth pour His glories in a golden shower; Lo! Darkness trembling 'fore the hostile ray, Shrinks to the cavern deep and wood forlorn: The brood obscene that own her gloomy sway Troop in her rear, and fly the approaching morn; Pale s.h.i.+vering ghosts that dread the all-cheering light, Quick as the lightning's flash glide to sepulchral night.
But whence the gladdening beam That pours his purple stream 30
ODE TO SLEEP.
Soft Sleep, profoundly pleasing power, Sweet patron of the peaceful hour!
Oh, listen from thy calm abode, And hither wave thy magic rod; Extend thy silent, soothing sway, And charm the canker care away: Whether thou lov'st to glide along, Attended by an airy throng Of gentle dreams and smiles of joy, Such as adorn the wanton boy; 10 Or to the monarch's fancy bring Delights that better suit a king, The glittering host, the groaning plain, The clang of arms, and victor's train; Or should a milder vision please, Present the happy scenes of peace, Plump Autumn, blus.h.i.+ng all around, Rich Industry, with toil embrown'd, Content, with brow serenely gay, And genial Art's refulgent ray. 20
ODE TO LEVEN WATER.
On Leven's banks, while free to rove, And tune the rural pipe to love, I envied not the happiest swain That ever trod the Arcadian plain.
Pure stream, in whose transparent wave My youthful limbs I wont to lave, No torrents stain thy limpid source; No rocks impede thy dimpling course, That sweetly warbles o'er its bed, With white, round, polish'd pebbles spread; 10 While, lightly poised, the scaly brood In myriads cleave thy crystal flood; The springing trout, in speckled pride, The salmon, monarch of the tide, The ruthless pike, intent on war, The silver eel, and mottled par.
Devolving from thy parent lake, A charming maze thy waters make, By bowers of birch, and groves of pine, And edges flower'd with eglantine. 20
Still on thy banks, so gaily green, May numerous herds and flocks be seen, And la.s.ses, chanting o'er the pail, And shepherds, piping in the dale, And ancient faith, that knows no guile, And Industry, embrown'd with toil, And hearts resolved, and hands prepared, The blessings they enjoy to guard.
ODE TO BLUE-EYED ANN.
1 When the rough north forgets to howl, And ocean's billows cease to roll; When Lybian sands are bound in frost, And cold to Nova-Zembla's lost; When heavenly bodies cease to move, My blue-eyed Ann I'll cease to love!
2 No more shall flowers the meads adorn, Nor sweetness deck the rosy thorn, Nor swelling buds proclaim the spring, Nor parching heats the dog-star bring, Nor laughing lilies paint the grove, When blue-eyed Ann I cease to love.
3 No more shall joy in hope be found, Nor pleasures dance their frolic round, Nor love's light G.o.d inhabit earth, Nor beauty give the pa.s.sion birth, Nor heat to summer suns.h.i.+ne cleave, When blue-eyed Nanny I deceive.
4 When rolling seasons cease to change, Inconstancy forgets to range; When lavish May no more shall bloom, Nor gardens yield a rich perfume; When Nature from her sphere shall start, I'll tear my Nanny from my heart.
ODE TO INDEPENDENCE.
STROPHE.
Thy spirit, Independence! let me share, Lord of the lion-heart and eagle-eye; Thy steps I follow with my bosom bare, Nor heed the storm that howls along the sky.
Deep in the frozen regions of the north, A G.o.ddess violated brought thee forth, Immortal Liberty, whose look sublime, Hath bleach'd the tyrant's cheek in every varying clime.
What time the iron-hearted Gaul, With frantic Superst.i.tion for his guide, 10 Arm'd with the dagger and the pall, The sons of Woden to the field defied; The ruthless hag, by Weser's flood, In Heaven's name urged the infernal blow, And red the stream began to flow: The vanquished were baptised with blood![1]