~Me me tauta legomes, ha dakryon egage Deoi.~ Callimach. ~Hymnos eis Demetra~. C.
[23] The family of the Medici. C.
[24] The little republic of San Marino. C.
[25] The Venetians. C.
[26] The Doge of Venice. C.
[27] Genoa. C.
[28] Switzerland. C.
[29] The Dutch, amongst whom there are very severe penalties for those who are convicted of killing this bird. They are kept tame in almost all their towns, and particularly at the Hague, of the arms of which they make a part. The common people of Holland are said to entertain a superst.i.tious sentiment, that if the whole species of them should become extinct, they should lose their liberties. C.
[30] Queen Elizabeth. C.
[31] This tradition is mentioned by several of our old historians. Some naturalists too have endeavoured to support the probability of the fact by arguments drawn from the correspondent disposition of the two opposite coasts. I do not remember that any poetical use has been hitherto made of it. C.
[32] There is a tradition in the Isle of Man, that a mermaid becoming enamoured of a young man of extraordinary beauty took an opportunity of meeting him one day as he walked on the sh.o.r.e, and opened her pa.s.sion to him, but was received with a coldness, occasioned by his horror and surprise at her appearance. This, however, was so misconstrued by the sea lady, that, in revenge for his treatment of her, she punished the whole island by covering it with a mist: so that all who attempted to carry on any commerce with it, either never arrived at it, but wandered up and down the sea, or were on a sudden wrecked upon its cliffs.
C.
ODE TO A LADY,
ON THE DEATH OF COLONEL ROSS, IN THE ACTION OF FONTENOY.
Written in May, 1745.
While, lost to all his former mirth, Britannia"s genius bends to earth, And mourns the fatal day: While stain"d with blood he strives to tear Unseemly from his sea-green hair 5 The wreaths of cheerful May:
The thoughts which musing Pity pays, And fond Remembrance loves to raise, Your faithful hours attend; Still Fancy, to herself unkind, 10 Awakes to grief the soften"d mind, And points the bleeding friend.
By rapid Scheld"s descending wave His country"s vows shall bless the grave, Where"er the youth is laid: 15 That sacred spot the village hind With every sweetest turf shall bind, And Peace protect the shade.
Blest youth, regardful of thy doom, Aerial hands shall build thy tomb, 20 With shadowy trophies crown"d; Whilst Honour bathed in tears shall rove To sigh thy name through every grove, And call his heroes round.
The warlike dead of every age, 25 Who fill the fair recording page, Shall leave their sainted rest; And, half reclining on his spear, Each wondering chief by turns appear, To hail the blooming guest: 30
Old Edward"s sons, unknown to yield, Shall crowd from Cressy"s laurel"d field, And gaze with fix"d delight; Again for Britain"s wrongs they feel, Again they s.n.a.t.c.h the gleamy steel, 35 And wish the avenging fight.
But lo, where, sunk in deep despair, Her garments torn, her bosom bare, Impatient Freedom lies!
Her matted tresses madly spread, 40 To every sod, which wraps the dead, She turns her joyless eyes.
Ne"er shall she leave that lowly ground Till notes of triumph bursting round Proclaim her reign restored: 45 Till William seek the sad retreat, And, bleeding at her sacred feet, Present the sated sword.
If, weak to soothe so soft a heart, These pictured glories nought impart, 50 To dry thy constant tear: If, yet, in Sorrow"s distant eye, Exposed and pale thou see"st him lie, Wild War insulting near:
Where"er from time thou court"st relief, 55 The Muse shall still, with social grief, Her gentlest promise keep; Even humbled Harting"s cottaged vale[33]
Shall learn the sad repeated tale, And bid her shepherds weep. 60
VARIATIONS.
Ver.
4. While sunk in grief he strives to tear
19. E"en now regardful of his doom Applauding Honour haunts his tomb, With shadowy trophies crown"d: Whilst Freedom"s form beside her roves, Majestic through the twilight groves, And calls her heroes round.
19. O"er him, whose doom thy virtues grieve, Aerial forms shall sit at eve, And bend the pensive head; And, fallen to save his injured land, Imperial Honour"s awful hand Shall point his lonely bed.
31. Old Edward"s sons, untaught to yield,
49. If, drawn by all a lover"s art,
58. Even humble Harting"s cottaged vale
FOOTNOTES:
[33] Harting, a village adjoining the parish of Trotton, and about two miles distant from it.
ODE TO EVENING.
If aught of oaten stop, or pastoral song, May hope, chaste Eve, to soothe thy modest ear, Like thy own brawling springs, Thy springs, and dying gales;
O Nymph reserved, while now the bright-hair"d sun 5 Sits in yon western tent, whose cloudy skirts, With brede ethereal wove, O"erhang his wavy bed:
Now air is hush"d, save where the weak-eyed bat With short shrill shriek flits by on leathern wing; 10 Or where the beetle winds His small but sullen horn,
As oft he rises "midst the twilight path, Against the pilgrim borne in heedless hum: Now teach me, maid composed, 15 To breathe some soften"d strain,
Whose numbers, stealing through thy darkening vale, May not unseemly with its stillness suit; As, musing slow, I hail Thy genial loved return! 20
For when thy folding-star arising shows His paly circlet, at his warning lamp The fragrant Hours, and Elves Who slept in buds the day,
And many a Nymph who wreathes her brows with sedge, 25 And sheds the freshening dew, and, lovelier still, The pensive Pleasures sweet, Prepare thy shadowy car.
Then let me rove some wild and heathy scene; Or find some ruin, "midst its dreary dells, 30 Whose walls more awful nod By thy religious gleams.
Or, if chill bl.u.s.tering winds, or driving rain, Prevent my willing feet, be mine the hut, That, from the mountain"s side, 35 Views wilds, and swelling floods,