Hard was the lot those injur'd strains endur'd, Unown'd by Science, and by years obscur'd: Fair Fancy wept; and echoing sighs confess'd A fix'd despair in every tuneful breast. Not with more grief the afflicted swains appear, When wintry winds deform the plenteous year; When lingering frosts the ruin'd seats invade, Where Peace resorted, and the Graces played. Each rising art by just gradation moves: Toil builds on toil; and age on age improves : The Muse alone unequal dealt her rage, And grac'd with noblest pomp her earliest stage. Preserv'd through time, the speaking scenes im part Each changeful wish of Phædra's tortur'd heart; Or paint the curse that mark'd the Theban'sa reign; A bed incestuous, and a father slain. With kind concern our pitying eyes o'erflow; To Rome remov'd, with wit secure to please, As arts expir'd, resistless Dulness rose ; Goths, priests, or Vandals-all were Learning's foes, Till Julius first recall'd each exil'd maid; The Edipus of Sophocles. Julius II. the immediate predecessor of Leo X. Then deeply skill'd in love's engaging theme, But Heaven, still various in its works, decreed Yet ah! so bright her morning's opening ray, In vain our Britain hop'd an equal day! No second growth the western isle could bear, At once exhausted with too rich a year. Too nicely Jonson knew the critic's part; Nature in him was almost lost in art. Of softer mould the gentle Fletcher came, The next in order as the next in name: With pleas'd attention, midst his scenes we find Each glowing thought that warms the female mind; Each melting sigh, and every tender tear; Their characters are thus distinguished by Mr. Dryden. Till late Corneille, with Lucan's spirit fir'd, Breath'd the free strain, as Rome and he inspir'd: And classic judgment gain'd to sweet Racine The temperate strength of Maro's chaster line. But wilder far the British laurel spread, The' historian's truth, and bid the manners live. In life's last hours, with horror of the deed; Where'er we turn, by Fancy charm'd, we find The favourite author of the elder Corneille. • Turno tempus erit, magno cum optaverit emptum. Intactum Pallanta, &c. Virg. O! more than all in powerful genius bless'd, Come, take thine empire o'er the willing breast! Whate'er the wounds this youthful heart shall feel, Thy songs support me, and thy morals heal! There every thought the Poet's warmth may raise; There native music dwells in all the lays. O might some verse with happier skill persuade Expressive Picture to adopt thine aid! What wondrous draughts might rise from every page! What other Raphaels charm a distant age. Methinks e'en now I view some free design Where breathing Nature lives in every line: Chaste and subdued the modest lights decay, Steal into shades, and mildly melt away. And see where Anthony, in tears approv'd, Still as they press, he calls on all around, Lifts the torn robe, and points the bleeding wound. But who is he, whose brows exalted bear A wrath impatient and a fiercer air? Awake to all that injur'd worth can feel, On his own Rome he turns the avenging steel; Yet shall not war's insatiate fury fall (So heaven ordains it) on the destin❜d wall. See the fond mother, midst the plaintive train, Hung on his knees, and prostrate on the plain! See the tragedy of Julius Cæsar. Touch'd to the soul, in vain he strives to hide Thus, generous Critic, as thy Bard inspires, So spread o'er Greece, the harmonious whole unknown, Even Homer's numbers charm'd by parts alone. Each beauteous image of the boundless mind; ODE ON THE POPULAR SUPERSTITIONS OF THE HIGH LANDS OF SCOTLAND: CONSIDERED AS THE SUBJECT OF POETRY. INSCRIBED TO MR. JOHN HOME. HOME! thou return'st from Thames, whose naiads long Have seen thee lingering with a fond delay, Mid those soft friends, whose hearts, some future day, Shall melt, perhaps, to hear thy tragic song. |