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ODE I

To MEMORY.

'M

I.

OTHER OF WISDOM! thou, whose sway
The throng'd ideal hosts obey;

Who bidft their ranks, now vanish, now appear,
Flame in the van, or darken in the rear:

Accept this votive verfe. Thy reign

Nor place can fix, nor power restrain:

* According to a fragment of Afranius, who makes Experience and Memory the parents of Wisdom.

Usus me genuit, Mater peperit MEMORIA,

ΣOPIAN vocant me Graii, vos SAPIENTIAM.

The Passage is preserv'd by Aulus Gellius, Lib. XIII. Cap. 8.

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All all is thine. For thee the ear, and eye

Rove thro' the realms of Grace, and Harmony:
The Senfes thee fpontaneous ferve,

That wake, and thrill thro' every nerve.
Elfe vainly foft, lov'd Philomel! would flow
The foothing fadness of thy warbled woe:

Elfe vainly sweet yon woodbine shade

With clouds of fragrance fill the glade;
Vainly, the cygnet spread her downy plume,
The vine gush nectar, and the virgin bloom.
But fwift to thee, alive, and warm,
Devolves each tributary charm:

See modeft Nature bring her fimple stores,
Luxuriant Art exhauft her plastic powers;

While every flower in Fancy's clime,

Each gem of old heroic Time,

Cull'd by the hand of the industrious Muse,

Around thy shrine their blended beams diffuse.

II.

Hail, MEM'RY! hail.

II.

Behold I lead

To that high fhrine the facred Maid;
Thy daughter fhe, the Emprefs of the lyre,
The firft, the faireft, of Aonia's quire.

She comes, and lo, thy realms expand !
She takes her delegated stand

Full in the midft, and o'er thy num'rous train
Displays the awful wonders of her reign.

There thron'd fupreme in native state,

If Sirius flame with fainting heat,

She calls; ideal groves their fhade extend,

The cool gale breaths, the filent show'rs defcend:
Or, if bleak Winter, frowning round,

Difrobe the trees, and chill the ground,
She, mild Magician, waves her potent wand;

And ready fummers meet her wing'd command.

See, vifionary Suns arife,

Mid filver clouds, and azure skies;

See,

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See, sportive Zephyrs fan the crifped streams ;

Thro' shadowy brakes light glance the fparkling beams : While, near the fecret mofs-grown cave,

That stands befide the crystal wave,

Sweet Eccho, rifing from her rocky bed,

Mimics the feather'd Chorus o'er her head.

III.

Rife, hallow'd MILTON! rife, and say,

How, at thy gloomy close of Day;

How, when " depreft by Age, befet with wrongs;
When "fall'n on evil days and evil tongues;
When Darkness, brooding on thy fight,

Exil'd the fov'raign lamp of light:

Say, what could then one chearing hope diffuse?
What friends were thine, fave Mem'ry and the Muse?
Hence the rich spoils, thy ftudious youth

Caught from the ftores of antient Truth:
Hence all thy bufy eye cou'd pleas'd explore,
When Rapture led thee to the Latian shore;

Each

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