ODE II. HAPPY verses! that were prest In fair Ethelinda's breast!
VOL. XVI.
Happy Muse, that didst embrace
The sweet, the heav'nly-fragrant place!
Tell me, is the omen true,
Shall the bard arrive there too?
Oft thro' my eyes my soul has flown,
And wanton'd on that iv'ry throne:
There with extatic transport burn'd,
And thought it was to Heav'n return'd.
Tell me is the omen true,
Shall the body follow too?
When first at Nature's early birth,
Heav'n sent a man upon the Earth,
Ev'n Eden was more fruitful found,
When Adam came to till the ground:
Shall then those breasts be fair in vain,
And only rise to fall again?
No, no, fair nymph-for no such end
Did Heav'n to thee its bounty lend;
That breast was ne'er design'd by fate
For verse, or things inanimate;
Then throw them from that downy bed,
And take the poet in their stead,
ON AN EAGLE
CONFINED IN A COLLEGE COURT.
ODE III.
IMPERIAL bird, who wont to soar
High o'er the rolling cloud,
Where Hyperborean mountains hoar
Their heads in ether shroud ;-
Thou servant of almighty Jove,
TO ETHELINDA,
Who, free and swift as thought, could'st rove
To the bleak north's extremest goal
Thou, who magnanimous could'st bear
ON HER DOING MY VERSES THE HONOUR OF The sovereign thuud'rer's arms in air,
WEARING THEM IN HER BOSOM.-WRIT
And shake thy native pole !
TEN AT THIRTEEN,
Oh cruel fate! what barbarous hand,
What more than Gothic ire,
At some fierce tyrant's dread command,
To check thy daring fire,
с
Than fiction can devise, or eloquence declare,
Your vocal tributes bring.
And you, ye winged choristers, that fly
In all the pensile gardens of the sky,
Chant thro' th' enamel'd grove,
The spangled cowslips variegate the scene,
And the rivulet between,
Whispers, murmurs, sings,
As it stoops, or falls, or springs;
There spread a sofa of thy softest flowers,
There let the bridegroom stay,
There let him hate the light, and curse the
day,
And blame the tardy hours.
But see the bride-she comes with silent pace,
Full of majesty and love;
Not with a nobler grace
Look'd the imperial wife of Jove,
When erst ineffably she shone
From the Zephyrs steal her sighs,
From thyself her sun-bright eyes;
Then baffled, thou shalt see,
That as did Daphne thee,
Her charms description's force shall fly,
And by no soft persuasive sounds be brib'd
To come within Invention's narrow eye;
But all indignant shun its grasp, and scorn to be
describ'd.
ODE IX.
Stretch from the trembling leaves your little
With all the wild variety of artless notes, [throats, The Author apologizes to a Lady for his being a
little Man.
But let each note be love.
Fragrant Flora, queen of May,
All bedight with garlands gay,
Where in the smooth-shaven green
In Venus' irresistible, enchanting zone.
Phoebus, great god of verse, the nymph observe,
Observe her well;
Then touch each sweetly-trem'lous nerve
Of thy resounding shell:
Her like huntress-Dian paint,
Modest, but without restraint;
From Pallas take her decent pace,
With Venus sweeten all her face,
Natura nusquam magis, quam in minimis tota
FLIN.
est.
Still pouring forth executive desire,
As bright, as brisk, and lasting, as the vestal
fire.
Does thy young bosom pant for fame: Woud'st thou be of posterity the toast?
The poets shall ensure thy name,
Who magnitude of mind not body boast.
Laurels on bulky bards as rarely grow,
As on the sturdy oak the virtuous misletoe.
Look in the glass, survey that cheekWhere Flora has with all her roses blush'd; The shape so tender,-look so meekThe breasts made to be press'd, not to be crush'd
Then turn to me,-turn with obliging eyes, Nor longer Nature's works, in miniature, despise.
Young Ammon did the world subdue, Yet had not more external man than I;
Ah! charmer, should I conquer you, With him in fame, as well as size, I'll vie. Then, scornful nymph, come forth to yonder
grove,
Where I defy, and challenge, all thy utmost love.
My name shall now attend,
Till to the church with silent pace
A nymph and priest ascend4.
Ev'n in the schools I now rejoice,
Where late I shook with fear,
Nor heed the moderator's voice
Loud thundering in my ears.
Then with Folian flute I blow
A soft Italian lay",
Or where Cam's scauty waters flow",
Releas'd from lectures, stray.
Meanwhile, friend Banks, my merits claim
Their just reward from you,
For Horace bids us challenge fame,
When once that fame's our due9,
Invest me with a graduate's gown,
Midst shouts of all beholders,
ODE XI.
And deck with hood my shoulders.
An Ode on the 26th of January, being the Birth- My head with ample square-cap crown',
CAMBRIDGE.
Day of a Young Lady.
Let but those lips their sweets disclose,
And rich perfumes exhale,
We shall not want the fragrant rose,
Nor miss the southern gale.
Then loosely to the winds unfold,
Those radiant locks of burnish'd gold,
Or on thy bosom let them rove;
His treasure-house there Cupid keeps, |
And hoards up, in two snowy heaps,
His stores of choicest love.
ALL hail, and welcome joyous morn,
Welcome to the infant year;
Whether smooth calms thy face adorn,
Or lowering clouds appear;
Tho' billows lash the sounding shore,
And tempests thro' the forests roar,
Sweet Nancy's voice shall soothe the sound;
Tho' darkness shou'd invest the skies,
New day shall beam from Nancy's eyes,
And bless all nature round.
ODE XI.
ON TAKING A BACHELOR'S
DEGREE.
In allusion to Horace. Book iii, Ode 20
Exegi monumentum æære perennius, &c.
'Tis done: I tow'r to that degree,
And catch such heav'nly fire,
That Horace ne'er could rank like me,
Nor is King'schapel higher'.-
My name in sure recording page
Shall time itself o'erpow'r',
If no rude mice with envious rage
The buttery books devour.
A title3 too with added grace,
Mihi Delphicâ
Lauro cinge volens-
Qua pauper aquæ Daunus, &c.
8 A celebrated taylor.
Sume superbiam
Quæsitam meritis.
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