mis / Carter. O fend her fure, her fteady Ray Thro' Life's perplexing Road: Beneath her clear discerning Eye Col Collins. Collins. E. B. I. S. 425. Von seinen dreizehn Oden, die fast alle moralischen Inhalts sind, ist die auf die Leidens schaften, welche zur musikalischen Komposition bestimmt war, eine der schönsten und berühmtesten. Auch ohne Beis hülfe der Musik ist ihr Eindruck ungemein wirksam und lebhaft; und wenn der Dichter gleich nicht sein Sylbenmaaß nach dem Charakter der verschiednen hier geschilderten Leis denschaften abgeändert hat; so ist doch das Kolorit dieser Schilderungen nichts weniger als matt und einförmig. Man vergleiche z. B. die Gemåhlde der Verzweifelung und Hoffe nung, der Schwermuth und Heiterkeit, die in ihrer Art vorzüglich meisterhaft sind. Auffallend ist übrigens, was auch fein Freund Langhorne, bei der Herausgabe seiner Gedichte, bemerkte, daß keines von seinen Gedichten der Liebe ges widmet, oder daß er, wie L. es ausdrückt, einer von den wes nigen Poeten ist, die nach Delphi schifften, ohne die Insel Cythere zu berühren. Selbst in dieser Ode, worin man es am wenigsten erwarten durfte, übergieng er die Leidenschaft der Liebe. When Mufick, heavenly Maid, was young, Collins. From the fupporting myrtles round But Thou, o Hope! with eyes fo fair, A foft refponfive voice was heard at ev'ry close; And longer had fhe fung - but with a frown Revenge impatient rofe; He threw his blood - ftain'd fword in thunder down, And with a withering look The war-denouncing trumpet took, And blew a blast fo loud and dread, Were ne'er prophetick founds fo full of woe; And ever and anon he beat The doubling drum with furious heat; And tho' fometimes, each dreary pause between, Her Her foul-fubduing voice apply'd, Yet ftill he kept his wild unalter'd mien, Collins. While each ftrain'd ball of fight feem'd burfting from his head. Thy numbers, Jealoufy! to nought were fix'd; Sad proof of thy distressful state; Of diff'ring themes the veering fong was mix'd, With eyes up-rais'd, as one infpir'd, Pale Melancholy fat retir'd, And from her wild fequefter'd feat, In notes by distance made more weet, Pour'd thro' the mellow horn her penfive, foul, And dafhing foft from rocks around Bubbling runnels join'd the found; Thro' glades and glooms the mingled measure ftole, Love of peace and lonely mufing, In hollow murmurs dy'd away, But o how alter'd was its iprightlier tone! When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthieft hue, Her bufkins gemm'd with morning dew, Blew an infpiring air, that dale and thicket rung, The hunter's call to Faun and Dryad known; The oak-crown'd fifters, and their chafte-ey'd queen, Peeping from forth their alleys green; Brown Exercife rejoic'd to hear, And Sport leapt up, and feiz'd his beechen fpear. He, with viny crown advancing, First to the lively pipe his hand addreft, But foon he faw the brifk-awakening viol, Whole fweet entrancing voice he lov'd the beft. To fome unweary'd minstrel dancing, Collins. While, as his flying fingers kifs'd the ftrings,. As if he would the charming air repay, O Mufick! sphere-defcended maid, Thomas |