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In vain ye search, she is not there ;
HYMN TO ADVERSITY.
Daughter of Jove, relentless pow'r,
scourge and tort'ring hour
When first thy sire to send on earth
Scar'd at thy frown terrific, fly Self-pleasing Folly's idle brood, Wild Laughter, Noise, and thoughtless Joy, And leave us leisure to be good. Light they disperse, and with them go The summer Friend, the flatt'ring Foe; By vain Prosperity receiv'd, To her they vow their truth, and are again believ'd.
Wisdom in sable garb array'd,
O, gently on thy suppliant's head,
Thy form benign, O Goddess ! wear,
ODE ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF EATON COLLEGE.
Ye distant spires, ye antique tow'rs,
Ah, happy hills ! ah, pleasing shade! Ah, fields belov'd in vain ! Where once my careless childhood stray'd, A stranger yet to pain ! I feel the gales, that from ye blow, A momentary bliss bestow, As waving fresh their gladsome wing, My weary soul they seem to sooth, And, redolent of joy and youth, To breathe a second spring.
Say, Father Thames (for thou hast seen: Full many a sprightly race, Disporting on thy margent green, The paths of pleasure trace), Who foremost now delight to cleave With pliant arm thy glassy wave? The captive linnet which enthral ? What idle progeny succeed To chase the rolling circle's speed, Or urge the flying ball?
While some, on earnest business bent,
Gay hope is theirs by Fancy fed,
Alas ! regardless of their doom, The little victims play! No sense have they of ills to come, No care beyond to day : Yet see how all around them wait The ministers of human fate, And black Misfortune's baleful train ! Ah, show them where in ambush stand, To seize their prey, the murd'rous band ! Ah, tell them, they are nien !
These shall the fury passions tear, The vultures of the mind, Disdainful Anger, pallid Fear, And Shame that skulks behind: Or pining Love shall waste their youth, Or Jealousy with rankling tooth, That inly gnaws the secret heart, And Envy wan, and faded Care, Grim visag'd comfortless Despair, And Sorrow's piercing dart.
Ambition this shall tempt to rise, Then whirl the wretch from high, To bitter Scorn a sacrifice, And grinning Infamy: The stings of Falsehood those shall try, And hard Unkindness' alter'd eye, That mocks the tear it forc'd to flow; And keen Remorse with blood defild, And moody Madness laughing wild Amid severest wo.
Lo, in the vale of years beneath A grisly troop are seen, The painful family of Death, More hideous than their queen : This racks the joints, this fires the veins, That ev'ry lab'ring sinew strains, Those in the deeper vitals rage : Lo, Poverty, to fill the band, That numbs the soul with icy hand: And slow consuming Age.
To each his suff'rings : all are men,
ELEGY, WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD. The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herds wind slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimm'ring landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels bis drony flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds; Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tow'r, The moping owl does to the moon complain Of such, as wand'ring near her secret bow'r, Molest her ancient solitary reign. Beneath those rugged elms, that yew tree's shade, Where heaves the turf.in many a mould'ring heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. The breezy call of incense-breathing Morn, . The swallow twitt'ring from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.