That glares tremendous on the Sons of Pride. Now meets mine ear with warbles wildly free, "Fond Youth! to MARVELL's patriot fame, "Thy humble breast must ne'er aspire. "Yet nourish still the lambent flame; "Still strike thy blameless lyre; "Led by the moral Muse securely rove; "And all the vernal sweets thy vacant Youth "Can cull from busy Fancy's fairy grove, "O hang their foliage round the fane of Truth: "To arts like these devote thy tuneful toil. "And meet its fair reward in D'ARCY's smile." " 'Tis he, my Son, alone shall cheer "At that sad hour, when all thy hopes decline; "This fragment wreath, the Muses meed, "Where never Flatt'ry dared to tread, "Receive, my favour'd Son, at my command, "And keep, with sacred care, for D'ARCY's brow "Tell him, 'twas wove by my immortal hand, "I breath'd on every flower a purer glow; "Say, for thy sake, I send the gift divine "To him who calls thee HIs, yet makes thee MINE." ODE XXV. KNOWLEDGE. BY WILLIAM JULIUS MICKLE. Ducit in errorem variarum ambage viarum. Ovid. HIGH on a hill's green bosom laid, At ease my careless Fancy stray'd, And o'er the landskip ran; Review'd what scenes the seasons show, And weigh'd what share of joy and woe The nibbling flocks around me bleat, Along the clover'd dale; The golden sheaves the reapers bind, "Hail, Knowledge, gift of heaven! I cried, E'en all the gifts of heaven beside, Compar❜d to thee, how low! The blessings of the earth and air "How mean the short-liv'd joys of Sense! But how sublime the excellence Of Wisdom's sacred lore! In Death's deep shades what nations lie ! "She sees the little Spartan band, She hears the heavenly sounds that hung "The wonders of the spacious sky She penetrates with Newton's eye, And marks the planets roll; The human mind with Locke she scans ; With Cambray Virtue's flame she fans, And lifts to heaven the soul. "How matter takes ten thousand forms Of metals, plants, of men and worms, She joys to trace with Boyle: This life she deems an infant state, "What numerous ills in life befal! "That breast excells proud Orphir's mines, "The last two tenants of the ground, And Shakspere's magic powers in vain, "Nor sun by day, nor stars by night, Can give his soul the grand delight To trace almighty power: |