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POEMS

OF

THOMAS GRAY.

1

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DRAWN BY RICHARD WESTALL, R.A. ENGRAVED BY J.HROBINSON: PUBLISHED BY JOHN SHARPE, PICCADILLY.

FEB. 1.1821.

ODES.

ON THE SPRING.

Lo! where the rosy-bosom'd Hours,
Fair Venus' train, appear,
Disclose the long-expecting flowers,
And wake the purple year!
The Attic warbler pours her throat,
Responsive to the cuckoo's note,

The untaught harmony of Spring: While, whisp'ring pleasure as they fly, Cool Zephyrs through the clear blue sky Their gather'd fragrance fling.

Where'er the oak's thick branches stretch A broader browner shade,

Where'er the rude and moss-grown beech O'er-canopies the glade,

Beside some water's rushy brink

With me the muse shall sit, and think

(At ease reclin'd in rustic state) How vain the ardour of the crowd, How low, how little are the proud, How indigent the great!

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