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Hzre gentler Edward claims a pitying sigh,
Where'er we turn, by fancy charm’d, we find
O more than all in powerful genius blest,
Tempus erit Turpo, magno cùm optaverit emptum
O might some verse with happiest skill persuade
Methinks even now I view some free design, Where breathing Nature lives in every line : Chaste and subdued the modest lights decay, Steal into shades, and mildly melt away. –And see, where Anthony, in tears approv'd, Guards the pale relics of the chief he loy'd : O'er the cold corse the warrior seems to bend, Deep sunk in grief, and mourns his murder'd friend! Still as they press, he calls on all around, Lifts the torn robe, and points the bleeding wound.
But † who is he, whose brows axalted bear
* See the tragedy of Julius Cæsar. * Coriolanus. See Mr. Spence's Dialogue on the Odyssey.
O’er all the man conflicting passions rise,
Thus, generous Critic, as thy Bard inspires,
So spread o'er Greece, th' harmonious whole unknown, Even Homer's numbers charm'd by parts alone. Their own Ulysses'scarce had wander'd more, By winds and waters cast on every shore: When rais’d by fate, some former Hanmer joined Each beauteous image of the boundless mind; And bade, like thee, his Athens ever claim A fond alliance with the Poet's name.
SUNG BY GUIDERIUS AND ARVIRAGUS OVER FIDELE,
SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD.
TO fair Fidele's
Soft inaids and village hinds shall bring
No wither'd witch shall here be seen,
No goblins lead their nightly crew ; The female fays shall haunt the green,
And dress thy grave with pearly dew!
The red-breast oft at evening hours
Shall kindly lend his little aid, With hoary moss and gather'd flowers
To deck the ground where thou art laid.
When howling winds and beating rain
In tempests shake the sylvan cell, Or 'midst the chace on every plain,
The tender thought on thee shall dwell.
Each lonely scene shall thee restore,
For thee the tear be duly shed ; Belov'd, till life can charm no more ;
And mourn’d, till Pity's self be dead..
ODE ON THE DEATH OF THOMSON,
THE SCENE OF THE FOLLOWING STANZAS IS SUPPOSED TO
LIE ON THE THAMES, NEAR RICHMOND.
Where slowly winds the stealing wave !
To deck its Poet's sylvan grave !
In yon deep bed of whisp’ring reeds
His airy harp* shall now be laid,
May love thro’ life the soothing shade.
Then maids and youths shall linger here,
And while its sounds at distance swell,
To hear the Woodland Pilgrim's knell,
Remembrance oft shall haunt the shore
When Thames in summer wreaths is drest,
To bid his gentle spirit rest !
And oft as Ease and Health retire
To breezy lawn, or forest deep
* The Harp of ÆOLUS, of which see a description in the CASTLE OF INDOLENCE.