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ODE TO MELANCHOLY:

By Mr. OGILVIE

HA

AIL, queen of thought sublime! popitious pow'r,

Who o'er th' unbounded waste art joy'd to roam, Led by the moon, when at the midnight hour

Her pale rays tremble thro' the dusky gloom,

O bear me, goddess, to thy peaceful seat!

Whether to Hecla's cloud-wrapt brow convey'd, Or lodg'd where mountains screen thy deep retreat,

Or wand'ring wild thro' Chili's boundless fhade.

Say, rove thy steps o'er Lybia's naked waste?

Or seek foine distant folitary shore ?
Or, on the Andes' topmoft mountain plac'd,

Doft fit, and hear the solemn thunder roar ?

Fix'd on some hanging rock's projected brow,

Hear'lt thou low murmurs from the distant dome ? Or stray thy feet where pale dejected Woe

Pours her long wail from fome lamented tomb ?

Hark

Hark! yon deepecho frikes the trembling cat sbian

See night's dun curtain wraps the darksome pole? O'er heaven's blue arch yon rolling worlds appear,

And rouse to folemn thought th' aspiring foul. O lead my steps beneath the moon's dim

ray; Where Tadmor Aands all desert and alone !. While from her, time-fhook tow'rs the bird of prey.

Sounds thro', the night her long resounding moan, Or bear me far to yon dark difthal plain,

Where fell-eyed 'tygers all athirift for blood, Howl conhe defart ; while the horrid train

Roams d'er the wild where once grcat Babel foods

That queen of nations! whose superior call

Rous'd the broad East, and bid her arms destroy ! When wärm'd to mirth, let judgment mark her fall,

And deep reflection dash the lip of joy.

Short is Ambition's gay deceitful dream ;

Though'wreaths of blooming laurel bind her brow; Calm thought difpels the visionary fcheme,

And Time's cold breath dissolves the withering boughtə Slow as some miner saps th' aspiring tow'r,

When working secret with destructive aim,
Unseen, unheard, thus moves the stealing houry

But works the fall of empire, pomp, and name.
Vol. VI. 24

Then

Linda Then let thy pencil mark the traits of man;

Full in the draught be keen-eyed Hope portray'a : Let flutt'ring Cupids crowd the growing plan :

Then give one touch, and dash it deep with lhade Beneath the plume that flames with glancing rays

Pode ser. Be Care's deep engines on the soul impressid ; Bencath the helmet's keen refulgent blaze

podidas Let Grief Gt pining in the canker'a brealtor :0

Em obod oss!? Let Love's gay sons, a smiling train, appear,

With Beauty pierc'd-yet heedless of the dare; While, closely couch'd, pale fick’ning Envy ntar A

Whets her fell {ting, and points it at the heart. Perch'd like a raven on fame blafted yew,

Let Guilt revolve the thought-diftraéting lin; Scar'd-while her eyes survey th'ethereal blue,

Left heaven's Atrong lightning burl the dark within. Then paint impending o'er the maddening deep

That rock where heart-struck Sappho, sainly brave, Stood firm of soulthen from the dizzy steep

Impetuous sprung, and daih'd the boiling wave,

Here wrapt in Audious thought let Fancy rove,

Still prompt to mark Suspicion's secret snare ;
To see where Anguish nips the bloom of Love,
Or trace proud Grandeur to the domes of Care.

Should

Should e'er Ambition's tow'ring hopes inflame,

Let judging Reason draw the veil álide; Or, fir'd with envy at some mighty name,

Read.o'er the monument that telis. He died.

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What are the ensigns of imperial sway

What all that Fórtune's lib’ral hand has brought ? Teach they the voice to pour a sweeter lay ?

Or roufe the soul to more exalted thought? When bleeds the heart as Genius blooms unknown,

When melis the eye o'er Virtue's mournful bier ; Notwealth, but pity, swells the burfing groan:

Not pow's, but whisp’ring Nature, prompts the tear. Say, gentle mourner, in yon mouldy vault,

Where the worm fattens on some scepter'd brow, Beneath that roof with fculptur'd marble fraught,

Why sleeps unmoy'd the breathlefs duft below? Sleeps it more sweetly than the simple swain,

Beneath Tome molly curf that rests his head-> Where the lone widow tells the night her pain,

And éve with dewy tears embalms the dead ?

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The lily, screen'd froni ev'ry ruder gale,

Courts not the cultur'd spot where roses spring :
But blows neglefted in the peaceful vale.
And scents the zephyr's balmy breathing wing.
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The

The bufts of grandeur and the pomp of pow'r,

Can these bid Sorrow's gushing tears fubfide ? Can these avail in that tremendous hour,

When Death's cold hand congeals the purple tide ? Ah no! the mighty names are heard no more:

Pride's thought sublime, and Beauty's kindling bloom, Serve but to sport one flying moment o'er,

And swell with pompous verfe th' escutcheon'd comß. For me---may, Paffion ne'er my soul invade,

Nor be the whims of tow'ring Phrenzy giv'n ; Let Wealth ne'er court me from the peaceful shade,

Where Contemplation wings the foul to Heaven!

Oh guard me fafe from Joy's enticing snare!

With each extreme that Pleasure tries to hide, The poison'd breath of low-consuming Care,

The 'noise of Folly, and the dreams of Pride, Bit oft, when midnight's fadly folemn knell

Sounds long and diftane froin the sky-topt tow'r, Calm let me fit in Prosper's lonely cell*,

Or walk with Milton thro' the dark obscure.

Thus, when the transient dream of life is fled,

May some sad friend recal the former years ; Then, stretch'd in lilence o'er my. dusty bed,

Pour the warm gulh of sympathetic tears !

THE

* Sec Shakespeare's Tempesto

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