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ODES BY Mr. GRAY, Author of an Elegy in a Country Church-Yard.
ΦΩΝΑΝΤΑ ΣΥΝΕΤΟΙΣΙ—PINDAR, Olymp. II.
DUBLIN: Printed for G. FAULKNER in Eſſex-ſtreet, and J. RUDD, at the Apollo in Dame-Street. MDCCLVII.
ODE.
[3]I. 1.
AWAKE, Aeolian 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 muſick winds along
Deep, majeſtic, ſmooth, and ſtrong,
Thro' verdant vales, and Ceres' golden reign:
Now rowling down the ſteep amain,
Headlong, impetuous, ſee it pour:
The rocks, and nodding groves rebellow to the roar.
[4]I. 2.
Oh! Sovereign of the willing ſoul,
Parent of ſweet and ſolemn-breathing airs,
Enchanting ſhell! the ſullen Cares,
And frantic Paſſions hear thy ſoft controul.
On Thracia's hills the Lord of War,
Has curb'd the fury of his car,
And drop'd his thirſty lance at thy command.
Perching on the ſcept'red 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 terror of his beak, and light'nings of his eye.
I. 3.
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
With antic Sports, and blue-ey'd Pleaſures,
Friſking light in frolic meaſures;
Now purſuing, now retreating,
Now in circling troops they meet:
To briſk notes in cadence beating
Glance their many-twinkling feet.
Slow melting ſtrains their Queen's approach declare
Where'er ſhe turns the Graces homage pay.
[5] With arms ſublime, that float upon the air,
In gliding ſtate ſhe wins her eaſy way:
O'er her warm cheek, and riſing boſom, move
The bloom of young Deſire, and purple light of Love.
II. 1.
Man's feeble race what Ills await,
Labour, and Penury, the racks of Pain,
Diſeaſe, and Sorrow's weeping train,
And Death, ſad refuge from the ſtorms of Fate!
The fond complaint, my Song, diſprove,
And juſtify the laws of Jove.
Say, has he giv'n in vain the heav'nly Muſe?
Night, and all her ſickly dews,
Her Spectres wan, and Birds of boding cry,
He gives to range the dreary ſky:
Till down the eaſtern cliffs afar
Hyperion's march they ſpy, and glitt'ring ſhafts of war.
II. 2.
In climes beyond the ſolar road,
Where ſhaggy forms o'er ice-built mountains roam,
The Muſe has broke the twilight-gloom
To chear the ſhiv'ring Natives dull abode.
And oft, beneath the od'rous ſhade
Of Chili's boundleſs foreſts laid,
She deigns to hear the ſavage youth repeat
In looſe numbers wildly ſweet
Their feather-cinctured Chiefs, and duſky Loves.
Her track, where'er the Goddeſs roves,
[6] Glory purſue, and generous Shame,
Th' unconquerable Mind, and Freedom's holy flame.
II. 3.
Woods, that wave o'er Delphi's ſteep,
Iſles, that crown th' Egaean deep,
Fields, that cool Iliſſus laves,
Or where Maeander's amber waves
In lingering Lab'rinths creep,
How do your tuneful Echo's lanquiſh,
Mute, but to the voice of Anguiſh?
Where each old poetic Mountain
Inſpiration breath'd around:
Ev'ry ſhade and hallow'd Fountain
Murmur'd deep a ſolemn ſound:
Till the ſad Nine in Greece's evil hour
Left their Parnaſſus for the Latian plains.
Alike they ſcorn the pomp of tyrant-Power,
And coward Vice, that revels in her chains.
When Latium had her lofty ſpirit loſt,
They ſought, oh Albion! next thy ſea-encircled coaſt.
III. 1.
Far from the ſun and ſummer-gale,
In thy green lap was Nature's Darling laid,
What time, where lucid Avon ſtray'd,
To him the mighty Mother did unveil
Her awful face: The dauntleſs Child
Stretch'd forth his little arms, and ſmiled,
[7] This pencil take (ſhe ſaid) whoſe colours clear
Richly paint the vernal year:
Thine too theſe golden keys, immortal Boy!
This can unlock the gates of Joy;
Of Horrour that, and thrilling Fears,
Or ope the ſacred ſource of ſympathetic Tears.
III. 2.
Nor ſecond He, that rode ſublime
Upon the ſeraph-wings of Extaſy,
The ſecrets of th' Abyſs to ſpy.
He paſs'd the flaming bounds of Place and Time:
The living Throne, the ſaphire-blaze,
Where Angels tremble, while they gaze,
He ſaw; but blaſted with exceſs of light,
Cloſed his eyes in endleſs night.
Behold, where Dryden's leſs preſumptuous car,
Wide o'er the fields of Glory bear
Two Courſers of ethereal race,
With necks in thunder cloath'd, and long-reſound⯑ing pace.
III. 3.
Hark, his hands the lyre explore!
Bright-eyed Fancy hovering o'er
Scatters from her pictur'd urn
Thoughts, that breath, and words, that burn.
But ah! 'tis heard no more—
[8] Oh! Lyre divine, what daring Spirit
Wakes thee now? tho' he inherit
Nor the pride, nor ample pinion,
That the Theban Eagle bear
Sailing with ſupreme dominion
'Thro' the azure deep of air:
Yet oft before his infant eyes would run
Such forms, as glitter in the Muſe's ray
With orient hues, unborrow'd of the Sun:
Yet ſhall he mount, and keep his diſtant way
Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate,
Beneath the Good how far—but far above the Great.
[10]ODE II.
[9]
THE following Ode is founded on a Tradition cur⯑rent in Wales, that EDWARD THE FIRST when he compleated the conqueſt of that country, or⯑dered all the Bards, that fell into his hands, to be put to death.
I. 1.
'RUIN ſeize thee, ruthleſs King!
'Confuſion on thy banners wait,
'Tho' fann'd by Conqueſt's crimſon wing
'They mock the air with idle ſtate.
'Helm, nor Hauberk's twiſted mail,
'Nor even thy virtues, Tyrant, ſhall avail
'To ſave thy ſecret ſoul from nightly fears,
'From Cambria's curſe, from Cambria's tears!'
Such were the ſounds, that o'er the creſted pride
Of the firſt Edward ſcatter'd wild diſmay,
As down the ſteep of Snowdon's ſhaggy ſide
He wound with toilſome march his long array.
Stout Gloſter ſtood aghaſt in ſpeechleſs trance:
To arms! cried Mortimer, and couch'd his quiv'ring lance.
[11]I. 2.
On a rock, whoſe haughty brow
Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood,
Robed in the ſable garb of woe,
With haggard eyes the Poet ſtood;
(Looſe his beard, and hoary hair
Stream'd, like a meteor, to the troubled air)
And with a Maſter's hand, and Prophet's fire,
Struck the deep ſorrows of his lyre.
'Hark, how each giant-oak, and deſert cave,
'Sighs to the torrent's aweful voice beneath!
'O'er thee, oh King! their hundred arms they wave,
'Revenge on thee in hoarſer murmurs breath;
'Vocal no more, ſince Cambria's fatal day,
'To high-born Hoel's harp, or ſoft Llewellyn's lay.
I. 3.
'Cold is Cadwallo's tongue,
'That huſh'd the ſtormy main:
'Brave Urien ſleeps upon his craggy bed:
'Mountains, ye mourn in vain
'Modred, whoſe magic ſong
'Made huge Plinlimmon bow his cloud-top'd head.
'On dreary Arvon's ſhore they lie,
'Smear'd with gore, and ghaſtly pale:
'Far, far aloof th' affrighted ravens ſail;
'The famiſh'd Eagle ſcreams, and paſſes by.
[12] 'Dear loſt companions of my tuneful art,
'Dear, as the light, that viſits theſe ſad eyes,
'Dear, as the ruddy drops that warm my heart,
'Ye died amidſt your dying country's cries—
'No more I weep. They do not ſleep.
'On yonder cliffs, a grieſly band,
'I ſee them ſit, they linger yet,
'Avengers of their native land:
'With me in dreadful harmony they join,
'And weave with bloody hands the tiſſue of thy line.
II. 1.
"Weave the warp, and weave the woof,
"The winding-ſheet of Edward's race.
"Give ample room, and verge enough
"The characters of hell to trace.
"Mark the year, and mark the night,
"When Severn ſhall re-eccho with affright
"The ſhrieks of death, thro' Berkley's roofs that ring,
"Shrieks of an agonizing King!
"She-Wolf of France, with unrelenting fangs,
"That tear'ſt the bowels of thy mangled Mate,
"From thee be born, who o'er thy country hangs
"The ſcourge of Heav'n. What Terrors round him wait!
"Amazement in his van, with Flight combined,
"And ſorrow's faded form, and ſolitude behind.
[13]II. 2.
"Mighty Victor, mighty Lord,
"Low on his funeral couch he lies!
"No pitying heart, no eye, afford
"A tear to grace his obſequies.
"Is the ſable Warriour fled?
"Thy ſon is gone. He reſts among the Dead.
"The Swarm, that in thy noon-tide beam were born?
"Gone to ſalute the riſing Morn.
"Fair laughs the Morn, and ſoft the Zephyr blows,
"While proudly riding o'er the azure realm
"In gallant trim the gilded Veſſel goes;
"Youth on the prow, and Pleaſure at the helm;
"Regardleſs of the ſweeping Whirlwind's ſway,
"That, huſh'd in grim repoſe, expects his evening-prey.
II. 3.
" * Fill high the ſparkling bowl,
"The rich repaſt prepare,
"Reft of a crown, he yet may ſhare the feaſt:
"Cloſe by the regal chair
[14] "Fell Thirſt and Famine ſcowl
"A baleful ſmile upon their baffled Gueſt.
"Heard ye the din of battle bray,
"Lance to lance, and horſe to horſe?
"Long years of havock urge their deſtined courſe,
"And thro' the kindred ſquadrons mow their way.
"Ye Towers of Julius, London's laſting ſhame,
"With many a foul and midnight murther fed,
"Revere his Conſort's faith, his Father's fame,
"And ſpare the meek Uſurper's holy head.
"Above, below, the roſe of ſnow,
"Twined with her bluſhing foe, we ſpread:
"The briſtled Boar in infant-gore
"Wallows beneath the thorny ſhade.
"Now, Brothers, bending o'er th' accurſed loom
"Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom.
III. 1.
"Edward, lo! to ſudden fate
"(Weave we the woof. The thread is ſpun)
" * Half of thy heart we conſecrate.
"(The web is wove. The work is done.)
[15] 'Stay, oh ſtay! nor thus forlorn
'Leave me unbleſſed, unpitied, here to mourn:
'In yon bright track, that fires the weſtern ſkies,
'They melt, they vaniſh from my eyes.
'But oh! what ſolemn ſcenes on Snowdon's height
'Deſcending ſlow their glitt'ring ſkirts unroll?
'Viſions of glory, ſpare my aching ſight,
'Ye unborn Ages, crowd not on my ſoul!
'No more our long-loſt Arthur we bewail.
'All-hail *, ye genuine Kings, Britannia's Iſſue, hail!
III. 2.
'Girt with many a Baron bold
'Sublime their ſtarry fronts they rear;
'And gorgeous Dames, and Stateſmen old
'In bearded majeſty, appear.
'In the midſt a Form divine!
'Her eye proclaims her of the Briton-Line;
'Her lyon-port, her awe-commanding face,
'Attemper'd ſweet to virgin-grace.
'What ſtrings ſymphonious tremble in the air,
'What ſtrains of vocal tranſport round her play!
'Hear from the grave, great Talieſſin †, hear;
'They breath a ſoul to animate thy clay.
[16] 'Bright Rapture calls, and ſoaring, as ſhe ſings,
'Waves in the eye of Heav'n her many-colour'd wings.
III. 3.
'The verſe adorn again
'Fierce War, and faithful Love,
'And Truth ſevere, by fairy Fiction dreſt.
'In buſkin'd meaſures move
'Pale Grief, and pleaſing Pain,
'With Horrour, Tyrant of the throbbing breaſt.
'A Voice, as of the Cherub-Choir,
'Gales from blooming Eden bear;
'And diſtant warblings leſſen on my ear,
'That loſt in long futurity expire.
'Fond impious Man, think'ſt thou, yon ſanguine cloud,
'Rais'd by thy breath, has quench'd the Orb of day?
'To-morrow he repairs the golden flood,
'And warms the nations with redoubled ray.
'Enough for me: With joy I ſee
'The different doom our Fates aſſign.
'Be thine Deſpair, and ſcept'red Care,
'To triumph, and to die, are mine.'
He ſpoke, and headlong from the mountain's height
Deep in the roaring tide he plung'd to endleſs night.
FINIS.
Notes
*
Richard the Second, (as we are told by Arch⯑biſhop Scroop, Thomas of Walſingham, and all the older Writers,) was ſtarved to death. The ſtory of his aſſaſſination by Sir Piers of Exon, is of much later date.
*
Eleanor of Caſtile, died a few years after the conqueſt of Wales. The heroic proof ſhe gave of her affection for her Lord is well known. The monuments of his regret, and ſorrow ſor the loſs of her, are ſtill to be ſeen in ſeveral parts of England.
*
Acceſſion of the Line of Tudor.
†
Talieſſin, Chief of the Bards, flouriſh'd in the VIth Century. His works are ſtill preſerved, and his memory held in high veneration among his Country⯑men.
- Citation Suggestion for this Object
- TextGrid Repository (2016). TEI. 3395 Odes by Mr Gray author of An elegy in a country church yard. University of Oxford Text Archive. University of Oxford, License: Distributed by the University of Oxford under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License [http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/]. https://hdl.handle.net/11378/0000-0005-D16C-6