Fuesslin waves thy wand,-again they rise, Again thy wildering forms salute our ravish'd eyes. Him didst thou cradle on the dizzy steep, Where round his head the volley'd lightnings flung, Seated the fearless boy, and bade him look Thou saw'st how danger fir'd his breast, And in his young hand couch'd the visionary spear. She bore the boy to Odin's Hall, His fabled Runic rhymes to sing, While fierce Hresvelger flapp'd his wing; Which on the mists of evening gleam, There Pity's lute arrests his ear, Taste lastly comes and smooths the whole, The Poet dreams :-The shadow flies, And as he sees the shadow rise, Starts at the image his own mind conceiv'd. ODE, ADDRESSED TO THE EARL OF CARLISLE, K. G. RETIRED, remote from human noise, A humble Poet dwelt serene; His lot was lowly, yet his joys He laid him by the brawling brook At eventide to ruminate, He watched the swallow skimming round, And mused, in reverie profound, On wayward man's unhappy state, And pondered much, and paused on deeds of ancient date. II. 1. Oh, 'twas not always thus," he cried, "There was a time, when Genius claimed Respect from even towering Pride, Nor hung her head ashamed: But now to Wealth alone we bow, The titled and the rich alone Are honoured, while meek Merit pines, Unheeded in his dying moan, As overwhelmed with want and woe, he sinks unknown. III. 1. "Yet was the muse not always seen In Poverty's dejected mien, Not always did repining rue, And misery her steps pursue. Time was, when nobles thought their titles graced, Their brows with anadems, by genius won, How different thought the sires of this degenerate race!" I. 2. Thus sang the minstrel :-still at eve And still his shame was aye the same, And muse on all his sorrows o'er, And vow that he would join the abjured world no more. II. 2. But human vows, how frail they be! Fame brought Carlisle unto his view, And all amaz'd, he thought to see The Augustan age anew. ODE, ADDRESSED TO THE EARL OF CARLISLE, K. G. RETIRED, remote from human noise, A humble Poet dwelt serene; His lot was lowly, yet his joys He laid him by the brawling brook At eventide to ruminate, He watched the swallow skimming round, And mused, in reverie profound, On wayward man's unhappy state, And pondered much, and paused on deeds of ancient date. II. 1. "Oh, 'twas not always thus," he cried, "There was a time, when Genius claimed Respect from even towering Pride, Nor hung her head ashamed: But now to Wealth alone we bow, The titled and the rich alone Are honoured, while meek Merit pines, Unheeded in his dying moan, As overwhelmed with want and woe, he sinks unknown. III. 1. "Yet was the muse not always seen In Poverty's dejected mien, |