Thou hadst wreath'd thy hair with roses,
The flower that in the immortal bower
Its deathless bloom discloses.

Before thine awful mien, compelled to shrink,
Fled Ignorance abash'd with all her brood
Dragons, and Hags of baleful breath,
Fierce Dreams, that wont to drink
The Sepulchre's black blood;
Or on the wings of storms
Riding in fury forms,

Shriek to the mariner the shriek of Death.

4.

I boast, O Goddess, to thy name
That I have raised the pile of fame

Therefore to me be given

;

To roam the starry path of Heaven,
To charioteer with wings on high,
And to rein-in the Tempests of the sky.

5.

Chariots of happy Gods! Fountains of Light! Ye Angel-Temples bright!

May I unblamed your flamy thresholds tread?
I leave Earth's lowly scene;

I leave the Moon serene,
The lovely Queen of Night;
I leave the wide domains,

Beyond where Mars his fiercer light can fling,
And Jupiter's vast plains,

(The many belted king ;)

Even to the solitude where Saturn reigns,

Like some stern tyrant to just exile driven;
Dim-seen the sullen power appears

In that cold solitude of Heaven,
And slow he drags along

The mighty circle of long-lingering years.

6.

Nor shalt thou escape my sight,

Who at the threshold of the sun-trod domes Art trembling,.. youngest Daughter of the Night! And you, ye fiery-tressed strangers! you, Comets who wander wide,

Will I along your pathless way pursue,
Whence bending I may view

The Worlds whom elder Suns have vivified.

7.

For Hope with loveliest visions soothes my mind,
That even in Man, Life's winged power,

When comes again the natal hour,
Shall on heaven-wandering feet
In undecaying youth,

Spring to the blessed seat;
Where round the fields of Truth
The fiery Essences for ever feed ;
And o'er the ambrosial mead,
The breezes of serenity

Silent and soothing glide for ever by.

8.

There, Priest of Nature! dost thou shine,
NEWTON! a King among the Kings divine.

Whether with harmony's mild force,
He guides along its course

The axle of some beauteous star on high,
Or gazing, in the spring
Ebullient with creative energy,

Feels his pure breast with rapturous joy possest,
Inebriate in the holy ecstasy.

9.

I may not call thee mortal then, my soul! Immortal longings lift thee to the skies: Love of thy native home inflames thee now, With pious madness wise.

Know then thyself! expand thy wings divine! Soon mingled with thy fathers thou shalt shine A star amid the starry throng.

London, 1802.

A God the Gods among.

GOOSEBERRY-PIE.

A PINDARIC ODE.

1.

GOOSEBERRY-PIE is best.

Full of the theme, O Muse, begin the song! What though the sunbeams of the West Mature within the Turtle's breast Blood glutinous and fat of verdant hue ? What though the Deer bound sportively along O'er springey turf, the Park's elastic vest? Give them their honours due,.. But Gooseberry-Pie is best.

2.

Behind his oxen slow

The patient Ploughman plods,

And as the Sower followed by the clods Earth's genial womb received the living seed. The rains descend, the grains they grow; Saw ye the vegetable ocean

Roll its green ripple to the April gale? The golden waves with multitudinous motion Swell o'er the summer vale?

3.

It flows through Alder banks along
Beneath the copse that hides the hill;

The gentle stream you cannot see,
You only hear its melody,

The stream that turns the Mill.
Pass on a little way, pass on,
And you shall catch its gleam anon;
And hark! the loud and agonizing groan
That makes its anguish known,
Where tortured by the Tyrant Lord of Mea]
The Brook is broken on the Wheel!

4.

Blow fair, blow fair, thou orient gale!
On the white bosom of the sail
Ye Winds enamour'd lingering lie!
Ye Waves of ocean spare the bark,
Ye Tempests of the sky!

From distant realms she comes to bring
Pie.

The sugar for my

For this on Gambia's arid side

The Vulture's feet are scaled with blood, And Beelzebub beholds with pride, His darling planter brood.

5.

First in the spring thy leaves were seen, Thou beauteous bush, so early green ! Soon ceased thy blossoms' little life of love. O safer than the gold-fruit-bearing tree The glory of that old Hesperian grove,.. No Dragon does there need for thee With quintessential sting to work alarms,