ODES. CLASS THE FIRST CONTINUED. ODE XXXVIII. TO PLEASURE. SISTER of Youth and laughing Joy, And Bacchus wreath'd with ivy green; O lead me to thy blissful vale ! Where Hope and Health in sprightly round, Leisure, with Freedom hand in hand, In dance fantastic beat the ground; Where'er they tread the fairest flowers arise, Embroidering all the green with ever-varying dies. Let the stern pedant love to waste In studious search the tedious night, Attentive to the learned page, By musing taper's glimmering light, B Whose pensive ear no wakeful sounds alarm, charm. Me let the cheerful dance engage, Swift urg'd along the lighted dome; Let the sage Hermit shun mankind, Penurious on the verdant herb to sup, Be mine, amidst the social band, The raptures of champaign to taste, ODE XXXIX. ΤΟ POVERTY. BY THE REV. THOMAS PENROSE. HIE thee hence! thou spectre foul, Hence! nor o'er yon dwelling scowl Hence! from the artless bard keep wide aloofFly rather to his hated roof, Who, deaf to Mercy's soft controul, Can steel with rugged edge the soul: Plund'ring, unmov'd the orphan's cry can hear, Or from the widow'd lip the scanty morsel tear :But pass him by, the wooer mild Of Genius, friend to all, Nature's ingenuous child. Constant toil, and coarsest fare, Long indeed the village hind In silent apathy may bear, While o'er his brow Health's rosy wreath is twin'd: While his passions sluggish flow, Nor aims his highest wish to know Beyond the hamlet's pale, his grandsire's farthest bound. Yet, rous'd to feeling, much he mourns his lot, Frowns on his humble cot, When sinks his drooping front, and bend his feeble knees. There, oft, unheeded on the ground, May Sickness, Age, and Want be found, United all in one forlorn abode, Of grief each singly own'd a melancholy load. From the damp and earthy bed The sufferer lifts his aching sight in vain :- Fly, ye rich, unbidden fly, Pour your oil, and pour your wine: Wipe from tears the misty eye; Charity's a ray divine A raythat lights the soul with brightest beam to shine. Why withhold the little boon? Seems it much, ye sons of wealth, Glitt'ring moths of sunny noon Plum'd with gold of joy and health? O think! a blast may come, yourselves may perish soon! Yet, different in this common state, What different care attends your happier fate! Fading you may sure receive All wayward fancy craves, all soothing art can give : While, with equal wants opprest, The child of Misery heaves his lab'ring breast, Cheer'd by no kind assisting powers, Scarce with such crumbs sustain'd as hungry Health devours. Melt, in soft compassion melt, Ye gentle, wail th' unletter'd peasant poor: Does Penury haunt th' ill-omen'd scholar's door; Warm'd his soul with genial flame In youth's gay spring was bid to rise, Much he hop'd, for many a tale Of praise was echo'd to his ear; |