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I. 3. Thee the voice, the dance obey, Temper’d to thy warbled lay. O'er Idalia's velvet green The rofy-crowned loves are seen On Cytherea's day, With antic Sports, and blue-ey'd Pleasures, Frisking light in frolic measures; Now pursuing, now retreating, Now in circling troops they meet; To brisk notes in cadence beating, Glance their many-twinkling feet. Slow melting strains their Queen's approach declare : Where'er she turns, the Graces homage pay. With arms fublime, that float upon the air, In gliding state she wins her easy way : O'er her warm cheek, and rising bosom, move The bloom of young desire, and purple light of love,
II. I. Man's feeble race what ills await! Labour, and penury, the racks of pain, Disease, and sorrow's weeping train; And death, fad refuge from the storms of fate! The fond complaint, my song, disprove, And juftify the laws of Jove. Say, has he giv’n in vain the heav'nly Muse? Night, and all her fickly dews, Her spectres wan, and birds of boding cry, He gives to range the dreary ky: Till down the eastern cliffs afar Hyperion's marcb they spy, and glitt'ring shafts of was. II. 2. In climes beyond the solar road, Where shaggy forms o'er ice-built mountains roam, The Muse has broke the twilight gloom, To cheer the shiv’ring native's dull abode. And oft, beneath the ud'rous shade Of Chili's boundless forests laid, She deigns to hear the favage youth repeat, La loose numbers, wildly fweet, Their feather-cinctur'd chiefs, and dusky loves, Her track, where'er the goddess roves, Glory pursues, and gen’rous thame, Tl’unconquerable mind, and Freedom's holy flame.
II. 3. Woods, that wav'd o'er Delphi's steep; Iles, that crown'd th’ Egean deep.; Fields, that cool Ilissus laves; Or where Mæander's amber waves In ling’ring lab'rinths creep ; . How do your tuneful echoes languilh, Mute, but to the voice of anguish! Where each old poetic mountain Inspiration breath'd around; Ev'ry shade and hollow'd fountain Marmur'd deep a solemn sound : Till the sad Nine, in Greece's evil hour, Left their Parnafsus for the Latian plains, Alike they scorn the pomp of tyrant Pow'r, And coward Vice, that revels in her chains, When Latium had her lofty spirit loft, They fought, O Albion ! next thy sea-encircled mufte
Oh, lyre divine! what daring spirit
The ruthless hag, by Weser's flood,
ANTISTROPHE. The Saxon prince in horror filed From altars stain'd with human gore; And Liberty his routed legions led In safety to the bleak Norwegian fhore, There in a cave asleep the lay, Lulld by the hoarse resounding main ; When a bold savage pafs'd that way, Impell’d by Destiny, his name Disdain. Of ample front the portly chief appear'd; The hunted bear fupply'd a shaggy vest; The drifted snow hung on his yellow beard ; And his broad shoulders brav'd the furious blast. He stopt; he gaz'd; his bosom glow'd, And deeply felt the impression of her charms: He feiz’d th' advantage Fate allow'd, And straight compress’d her in his vigorous arm.
* Charlemagne obliged 4000 Saxon prisoners to embrace the Christian religion, and immediately after they were baptized ordered their throats to be cut. Their prince Vitikind led for shelter to Gotrick king of Denmark.