TH

O DE II.

TO SLEEP.

I.

HOU filent power, whose welcome sway
Charms every anxious thought away;

In whofe divine oblivion drown'd,

Sore pain and weary toil grow mild,
Love is with kinder looks beguil❜d,
And grief forgets her fondly-cherish'd wound;
O whither haft thou flown, indulgent god?
God of kind fhadows and of healing dews,
Whom doft thou touch with thy Lethæan rod?
Around whose temples now thy opiate airs diffuse?
II.

Lo, midnight from her ftarry reign
Looks awful down on earth and main.
The tuneful birds lie hufh'd in fleep,
With all that crop the verdant food,
With all that kim the cryftal flood,

Or haunt the caverns of the rocky steep.
No rushing winds difturb the tufted bowers;
No wakeful found the moon-1
n-light valley knows,
Save where the brook its liquid murmur pours,

And lulls the waving fcene to more profound repofe.

III.

O let not me alone complain,

Alone invoke thy power in vain!

Defcend, propitious, on my eyes;

Not

Not from the couch that bears a crown, Not from the courtly statesman's down, Nor where the mifer and his treafure lies: Bring not the fhapes that break the murderer's rest, Nor those the hireling foldier loves to fee,

Nor those which haunt the bigot's gloomy breaft: Far be their guilty nights, and far their dreams from me!

IV.

Nor
yet thofe awful forms prefent,
For chiefs and heroes only meant:
The figur'd brafs, the choral fong,
The refcued people's glad applaufe,
The liftening fenate, and the laws

Fix'd by the counfels of * Timoleon's tongue,
Are scenes too grand for Fortune's private ways ;
And though they fhine in youth's ingenuous view,
The fober gainful arts of modern days
To fuch romantic thoughts have bid a long adieu.

ས.

I afk not, god of dreams, thy care
To banish Love's prefentments fair:
Nor rofy cheek nor radiant eye

Can arm him with fuch ftrong command
That the young forcerer's fatal hand
Shall round my foul his pleasing fetters tie.

Not

* After Timoleon had delivered Syracufe from the tyranny of Dionyfius, the people on every important deliberation fent for him into the public affembly, asked his advice, and voted according to it. PLUTARCH.

Nor yet the courtier's hope, the giving smile
(A lighter phantom, and a baser chain)
Did e'er in slumber my proud lyre beguile

To lend the pomp of thrones her ill-according ftrain.

VI.

But, Morpheus, on thy balmy wing
Such honourable vifions bring,

As footh❜d great Milton's injur'd age,
When in prophetic dreams he faw

The race unborn with pious awe
Imbibe each virtue from his heavenly page :
Or fuch as Mead's benignant fancy knows
When health's deep treafures, by his art explor'd,
Have fav'd the infant from an orphan's woes,
Or to the trembling fire his age's hope restor❜d.

ODE III.

TO THE CUCK O W.

I.

Ruftic herald of the fpring,

At length in yonder woody vale
Faft by the brook I hear thee fing;
And, ftudious of thy homely tale,
Amid the vefpers of the grove,
Amid the chaunting choir of love,

Thy fage refponfes hail.

II. The

II.

The time has been when I have frown'd
To hear thy voice the woods invade;
And while thy folemn accent drown'd
Some sweeter Poet of the fhade,

Thus, thought I, thus the fons of care
Some constant youth or generous fair
With dull advice upbraid.

III.

I faid, "While Philomela's fong
"Proclaims the paffion of the grove,
"It ill befeems a cuckow's tongue
"Her charming language to reprove❞—
Alas, how much a lover's ear
Hates all the fober truth to hear,

The fober truth of love!

IV.

When hearts are in each other blefs'd,
When nought but lofty faith can rule
The nymph's and fwain's confenting breast,
How cuckow-like in Cupid's school,
With ftore of grave prudential faws
On Fortune's power and Custom's laws,
Appears each friendly fool!

ས.

Yet think betimes, ye gentle train
Whom Love and Hope and Fancy sway,
Who every harfher care disdain,

Who by the morning judge the day,

Think that, in April's fairest hours,
To warbling fhades and painted flowers
The cuckow joins his lay.

ODE IV.

To the HONOURABLE CHARLES TOWNSHEND,

IN THE COUNTRY.

MDCCL.

1. 1.

How oft fhall I furvey

This humble roof, the lawn, the greenwood shade,
The vale with fheaves o'erfpread,

The glaffy brook, the flocks which round thee stray?
When will thy cheerful mind

Of these have utter'd all her dear efteem?

Or, tell me, doft thou deem

No more to join in glory's toilfome race,
But here content imbrace

That happy leifure which thou hadst resign'd?

I. 2.

Alas, ye happy hours,

When books and youthful sport the foul could fhare,

Ere one ambitious care

Of civil life had aw'd her fimpler powers; $

Oft