Full many a gem of purest ray serene,

“ One morn I miss'd him on the 'custom'd hill, The dark urfathom'd caves of ocean bear:

Along the heath and near his favourite tree; Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, Another came; nor yet beside the rill, And waste its sweetness on the desert air.

Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he: Some village-Hampden, that with dauntless breast “ The next with dirges due in sad array (borne. The little tyrant of his fields withstood;

Slow through the church-way path we saw him Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay,

Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood. Grav'd on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.”

Yet ev'n these bones from insult to protect,

Some frail memorial still erected nigh, With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture

deck’d, Implores the passing tribute of a sighi. Their name, their years, spelt by th' unletter'd Muse,

The place of fame and elegy supply: And many a holy text around she strews,

That teach the rustic moralist to die.

Φωνανία συνεοισιν ες
Δε το ταν έρμηνέων χαζε.

Pindar. Olym. ii.

For who, to dumb Forgetfulness a prey,

This pleasing anxious being e'er resign’d, Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,

Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind ?

On some fond breast the parting soul relies,

Some pious drops the closing eye requires ; Ev'n from the tomb the voice of Nature cries,

Ev'n in our ashes live their wonted fires.

For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead,

Dost in these lines their artless tale relate; If chance, by lonely Contemplation led,

Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, Haply some hoary-headed swain may say,

“ Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn Brushing with hasty steps the dews away

To meet the Sun upon the upland lawn.

I.
AWAKE, Eolian lyre, awake,
And give to rapture all thy trembling strings
From Helicon's harmonious springs
A thousand rills their mazy progress take;
The laughing flowers that round them blow,
Drink life and fragrance as they flow.
Now the rich stream of music winds along,
Deep, majestic, smooth, and strong,
Through verdant vales, and Ceres' golden reign :
Now rolling down the steep amain,
Headlong, impetuous, see it pour :
The rocks, and nodding groves, rebellow to the roar.

Oh! sovereign of the willing soul,
Parent of sweet and solemn-breathing airs,
Enchanting shell ! the sullen cares,

And frantic passions, hear thy soft control :
On Thracia's hills the lord of war
Has curb'd the fury of his car,
And dropp'd his thirsty lance at thy command:
Perching on the scepter'd hand
Of Jove, thy magic lulls the feather'd king
With ruffled plumes, and flagging wing:
Quench'd in dark clouds of slumber lie
The terrour of his beak, and lightning of his eye.
Thee the voice, the dance, obey,
Temper'd to thy warbled lay,
O'er Idalia's velvet-green
The rosy-crowned Loves are seen,
On Cytherea's day,

“ There at the foot of yonder nodding beech,

That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch,

And pore upon the brook that bubbles by. “ Hard hy yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,

Muttering his wayward fancies he would rove, Now drooping woeful wan, like one forlorn,

Or craz'd with care, or cross'd in hopeless lore.

With antic sports and blue-ey'd pleasures,

Thine too these golden keys, immortal boy! Frisking light in frolic measures;

This can unlock the gates of Joy; Now pursuing, now retreating,

Of Horrour that, and thrilling fears, Now in circling troops they meet :

Or ope the sacred source of sympathetic tears." To brisk notes in cadence beating Glance their many-twinkling feet.

Nor second he t, that rode sublime Slow-melting strains their queen's approach declare : Upon the seraph-wings of Ecstasy, Where'er she turns, the Graces homage pay,

The secrets of th' abyss to spy. With arts sublime, that float upon the air,

He pass'd the flaming bounds of place and time: In gliding state she wins her easy way:

The living throne, the sapphire-blaze,
O'er her warm cheek, and rising bosom, move Where angels tremble, while they gaze,
The bloom of young Desire, and purple light of Love. He saw; but, blasted with excess of light,

Clos'd his eyes in endless night.
II.

Behold, where Dryden's less presumptuous car,

Wide o'er the fields of Glory bear Man's feeble race what ills await,

Two coursers of ethereal race , (ing pace. Labour and Penury, the racks of Pain,

With necks in thunder cloth'd, and long-resound. Disease, and Sorrow's weeping train,

And Death, sad refuge from the storms of Fate! Hark, his hands the lyre explore ! The fond complaint, my song, disprove,

Bright-ey'd Fancy, hovering o’er, And justify the laws of Jove.

Scatters from her pictur'd urn Say, has he given in vain the heavenly Muse ?

Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn. Night, and all her sickly dews,

But ah! 't is heard no more — Her spectres wan, and birds of boding cry,

Oh! lyre divine, what daring spirit He gives to range the dreary sky:

Wakes thee now ? though he inherit Till down the eastern cliffs afar

(war. Nor the pride, nor ample pinion, Hyperion's march they spy, and glittering shafts of 'That the Theban eagle bear,

Sailing with supreme dominion In climes beyond the solar road,

Through the azure deep of air : Where shaggy forms o'er ice-built mountains roam,

Yet oft before his infant eyes would run The Muse has broke the twilight gloom

Such forms as glitter in the Muse's ray To cheer the shivering native's dull abode.

With orient hues, unborrow'd of the Sun : And oft, beneath the odorous shade

Yet shall he inount, and keep his distant way Of Chili's boundless forests laid,

Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate, She deigns to hear the savage youth repeat, Beneath the good how far — but far above the great. In loose numbers wildly sweet, Their feather-cinctur’d chiefs, and dusky loves. Her track, where'er the goddess roves, Glory pursue, and generous Shame,

ODE ON THE SPRING. Th' unconquerable mind, and Freedom's holy flame.

Lo! where the rosy-bosom’d Hours, Woods, that wave o'er Delphi's steep,

Fair Venus' train appear, Isles, that crown th' Ægean deep,

Disclose the long-expecting flowers, Fields, that cool Ilissus laves,

And wake the purple year! Or where Mæander's amber waves

The attic warbler pours her throat, In lingering labyrinths creep,

Responsive to the cuckoo's note, How do your tuneful Echoes languish

The untaught harmony of Spring :
Mute, but to the voice of Anguish ?

While, whispering pleasure as they fly,
Where each old poetic mountain
Inspiration breath'd around :

Cool Zephyrs through the clear blue sky

Their gather'd fragrance Aling.
Every shade and hallow'd fountain
Murmur'd deep a solemn sound :

Where'er the oak's thick branches stretch Till the sad Nine, in Greece's evil hour,

A broader, browner shade ; Left their Parnassus, for the Latian plains.

Where'er the rude and moss-grown beech Alike they scorn the pomp of tyrant-power,

O’er-canopies the glade, And coward Vice, that revels in her chains.

Beside some water's rushy brink When Latium bad her lofty spirit lost,

With me the Muse shall sit, and think They sought, oh Albion! next thy sea-encircled coast.

(At ease reclin'd in rustic state)

How vain the ardour of the crowd,
III.

How low, how little are the proud,
Far from the Sun and summer-gale,

How indigent the great !
In thy green lap was Nature's darling * Jaid,
What time, where lucid Avon stray'd,

Still is the toiling hand of Care :
To him the mighty mother did unveil

The panting herds repose : Her aweful face : the dauntless child

Yet hark, how through the peopled air Stretch'd forth his little arms, and smil'd.

The busy murmur glows! ** This pencil take,” she said, “ whose colours clear Richly paint the vernal year :

+ Milton.

| Meant to express the stately march and sound• Shakspeare.

ing energy of Dryden's rhymes.

The insect youth are on the winy",

Where willowy Camus lingers with delight!
Eager to taste the honied spring,

Oft at the blush of dawn
And float amid the liquid noon :

I trod your level lawn,
Some lightly o'er the current skim,

Oft woo'd the gleam of Cynthia silver-bright
Some show their gayly-gilded trim

In cloisters dim, far from the haunts of Folly, Quick-glancing to the Sun.

With Freedom by my side, and soft-ey'd Melan.

choly."
To Contemplation's sober eye
Such is the race of man :

But hark! the portals sound, and pacing forth
And they that creep, and they that fly,

With solemn steps and slow,
Shall end where they began.

High potentates and dames of royal birth,
Alike the busy and the gay

And mitred fathers in long order go :
But flutter through life's little day,

Great Edward, with the lilies on his brow,
In Fortune's varying colours drest : From haughty Gallia torn,
Brush'd by the hand of rough Mischance; And sad Chatillon t, on her bridal mort
Or chill'd by Age, their airy dance

That wept her bleeding love, and princely Claret,
They leave in dust to rest.

And Anjou's & heroine, and the paler rose ,

The rival of her crown and of her woes,
Methinks I hear in accents low

And either Henry ( there,
The sportive kind reply ;

The murder'd saint, and the majestic lord,
“ Poor moralist! and what art thou?

That broke the bonds of Rome.
A solitary fly!

(Their tears, their little triumphs o'er,
Thy joys no glittering female meets,

Their human passions now no more,
No hive hast thou of hoarded sweets,

Save Charity, that glows beyond the tomb),
No painted plumage to display :

All that on Granta's fruitful plain
On hasty wings thy youth is flown :

Rich streams of regal bounty pour'd,
Thy sun is set, thy spring is gone -

And bade these aweful fanes and turrets rise,
We frolic while 't is May.'

To hail their Fitzroy's festal morning come;
And thus they speak in soft accord
The liquid language of the skies.

“ What is grandeur, what is power ?
ODE FOR MUSIC.

Heavier toil, superior pain.

What the bright reward we gain? PERFORMED IN THE SENATE-HOUSE AT CAMBRIDGE, The grateful memory of the good. JULY 1. 1769, AT

His Sweet is the breath of vernal shower, GRACE AUGUSTUS-HENRY-FITZROY, DUKE Or Graf- The bee's collected treasure's sweet, TON, CHANCELLOR OF THE UNIVERSITY.

Sweet music's melting fall, but sweeter yet

The still small voice of Gratitude." “ Hence, avaunt, ('t is holy ground,) Comus and his midnight-crew,

• Edward the Third; who added the fleur-deAnd Ignorance with looks profound,

lis of France to the arms of England. He founded And dreaming Sloth of pallid hue,

Trinity College.
Mad Sedition's cry profane,
Servitude that hugs her chain,

† Mary de Valentia, Countess of Pembroke, Nor in these consecrated bowers

daughter of Guy de Chatillon, Comte de St. Paul Let painted Flattery hide her serpent-train in flowers in France: of whom tradition says, that her bus Nor Envy base, nor creeping Gain,

band, Audemar de Valentia, Earl of Pembroke, was Dare the Muse's walk to stain,

slain at a tournament on the day of his puptials

She was the foundress of Pembroke College ar While bright-ey'd Science watches round: Hence, away, 't is holy ground !"

Hall, under the name of Aula Mariæ de Valentia.

| Elizabeth de Burg, Countess of Clare, was From yonder realms of empyrean day

wife of John de Burg, son and heir of the Earl of Bursts on my ear th' indignant lay :

Ulster, and daughter of Gilbert de Clare, Earl There sit the sainted sage, the bard divine,

Gloucester, by Joan of Acres, daughter of Edward The few, whom genius gave to shine

the First. Hence the poet gives her the epithet of Through every unborn age and undiscover'd clime. princely. She founded Clare-Hall. Rapt in celestial transport they, Yet hither oft a glance from high

§ Margaret of Anjou, wife of Henry the Sixth They send of tender sympathy

foundress of Queen's College. The poet had celeTo bless the place, where on their opening soul brated her conjugal fidelity in a former ode. First the genuine ardour stole.

| Elizabeth Widville, wife of Edward the Fourth 'T was Milton struck the deep-ton'd shell, And, as the choral warblings round him swell,

(hence called the paler rose, as being of the house Meek Newton's self bends from his state sublime,

of York). She added to the foundation of MarAnd nods his hoary head, and listens to the rhyme.

garet of Anjou.

q Henry the Sixth and Eighth. The former the “ Ye brown o'er-arching groves,

founder of King's, the latter the greatest benefactor That Contemplation loves,

to Trinity College

THE

INSTALLATION

OF

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