III. I.

Edward, lo! to fudden fate

(Weave we the woof. The thread is spun.) Half of thy heart we consecrate.14

(The web is wove. The work is done.) Stay, oh stay! nor thus forlorn

Leave me unblefs'd, unpitied, here to mourn : In yon bright track, that fires the western skies, They melt, they vanish from my eyes.

But oh! what folemn fcenes on Snowdon's height Descending flow their glittering skirts unroll? Visions of glory, spare my aching fight!

Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my foul!

No more our long-loft Arthur's we bewail.
All hail, ye genuine kings, Britannia's issue, hail!

III. 2.

"Girt with many a baron bold

Sublime their starry fronts they rear;

And gorgeous dames, and statesmen old

In bearded majesty, appear.

In the midst a form divine!

Her eye proclaims her of the Briton-line ;

26

Her lion-port, her awe-commanding face,

Attemper'd sweet to virgin-grace.

What ftrings fymphonious tremble in the air,
What strains of vocal transport round her play.
Hear from the grave, great Taliessin," hear;

They breathe a foul to animate thy clay.
Bright Rapture calls, and foaring as fhe fings,

Waves in the eye of heav'n her many-colour'd wings.

"The verse adorn again

III. 3.

Fierce war, and faithful love,28

And truth severe, by fairy fiction drest.

In bufkin'd 29 measures move

Pale grief, and pleafing pain,

With horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast.

A voice, as of the cherub-choir,

Gales from blooming Eden bear;

And distant warblings leffen on my ear,30

That loft in long futurity expire.

Fond impious man, think'st thou yon fanguine cloud,

Raised by thy breath, has quench'd the orb of day? To-morrow he repairs the golden flood,

And warms the nations with redoubled ray. Enough for me; with joy I fee

The diff'rent doom our fates affign.

Be thine despair, and scept’red care,

To triumph, and to die, are mine."

He spoke, and headlong from the mountain's height Deep in the roaring tide he plunged to endless night.31

ODE FOR MUSIC.'

(IRREGULAR.)

I. AIR.

ENCE, avaunt, ('tis holy ground)

Comus, and his midnight-crew,

And Ignorance with looks profound,

And dreaming Sloth of pallid hue,

Mad Sedition's cry profane,

Servitude that hugs her chain,

Nor in these confecrated bowers,

Let painted Flatt'ry hide her ferpent-train in flowers.

CHORUS.

Nor Envy base, nor creeping Gain,

Dare the Mufe's walk to ftain,

While bright-eyed Science watches round:

Hence, away, 'tis holy ground!"