DITHYRAMBIC ODE I. ON ENTHUSIASM.
SHADES of poets blest!
That oft my dreams,
With rapturous gleams
Of glory, have possest;
Appear, appear, appear!
If yet the mortal vow ye hear,
O hither, from your mansions bright,
O hither bend your speedy flight;
While light and odours float around,
And harps unseen empyreal airs resound.
Say, from what living spring
Descends the flood of fame,
That bears your sacred strains along
The vales and echoing mountains o'er
While empires all prolong,
In every varied speech, the wonders of your song;
And languages, that have as yet no name,
Their tributary rills shall bring
To swell the lordly stream?
Say, from what mighty cause
Is heard the high applause,
That you the distant climes,
That you the distant times,
With adoration have confest
Gods of the human breast;
And, moved with filial awe,
Have bent their sense and feeling to your law;
And noblest homage brought,
The homage of the thought?
Enthusiasm was that spring!
Enthusiasm was the cause
Enthusiasm, race divine! did all those honours bring!
Ye chief of former days, whose daring vows addressed
Nature ere hid in Fashion's speckled vest;
When she, great goddess, in her prime,
Her virgin fancies played at will,
Fancies surpassing mortal skill;
And with her sons held colloquy sublime,
By hallowed fount with verdant gloom o'ergrown,
Or in the whispering vale, or desert mountain lone;
While forms of heaven not unseen
With fairy footsteps paced the green,
And in mystic notes conveyed
Things secret from the human thought or eye.
Full oft, such is thy will, O Poesy!
Where vulgar minds discern nought, save the shade,
The wise the sun descry
*.
His flames behind a cloud.
And, Sages, ye whose eloquence divine
Would, with a golden chain,
The hearer's soul restrain,
And bear to every Passion's distant shrine.
Whose thunder shook the throne
Of each barbaric lord;
Tho by deluded myriads prone
Of trembling slaves adored.
Whose lucid art of life illumed the plan;
And heavenly Wisdom brought to dwell with man.
Without thy fierce controul,
Enthusiasm, soul of the rapt soul!
Picture in vain bids her creation rise;
Music in vain her vocal skill applies;
In night the fair creation lies;
[Page 9]The bidden airs sleep in the sullen shell,
Till thou their birth impell.
At thy command the glowing forms appear:
At thy command the strains enchant the ear.
Thy praise may every art,
And science fair impart;
For all to thee their richest lustre owe.
From thee all attributes of mind
That to gods exalt mankind;
All deeds immortal flow.
Hark, hark! The sounds of conflict rise;
What light divine illumes that sacred field,
Leonidas! where thy devoted few
Their fatal falchions drew:
And of their carcases composed a shield,
Their country to protect from dastard enemies!
In Freedom's holy hand
Their radiant banner flew:
Her rousing trump Enthusiasm blew.
When bold Colombo dared the watery realm
A world unknown to find;
Enthusiasm held the helm,
And with fresh vigor stored his ardent mind.
Till rose the wished shore,
Where empires lost to fame before,
Where golden cities shone,
And shrines of other sacred powers;
Groves of new pomp, and meads of other flowers,
And other music from the copse was blown.
Oh goddess! if one happy clime
Remains yet secret from the Muse,
Thy blessed influence diffuse,
O lend thy votary thy aid sublime,
By art's just compass, and by fancy's gate,
There to direct his daring sail,
And treasures bring unknown in former time!
DITHYRAMBIC ODE II. To LAUGHTER.
THE violet that in the lonely stream
Beholds her humble head,
Tho saved from icy breeze or sultry beam,
Her fragrant leaves must shed.
Along the stream that fed
Her life, the fragrant leaves are tost,
Till in the ruthless ocean lost.
Meet emblem of man's fading joy,
That, tho saved from all annoy,
On time's inevitable wave
Still hastens to the grave!
To taste the fragrance of the flower,
And not the flower destroy,
Is wisdom. Haste, the fleeting hour
Ye race of Mirth employ.
Thou, Laughter, lead the festal band;
Wit and Humour, hand in hand,
[Page 12]Sports that dance, and Sports that sing,
Love and Rapture with thee bring.
Now when merry Spring reposes
On her bed of balmy roses,
In fantastic measures revel
All along the flowery level.
Sweet melody pervades the luminous air
*.
The jocund tribes appear!
My suppliant thy wish declare;
Lo I wait to hear thy prayer.
While some, tho wise, in mental gloom
Their melancholy hours entomb;
And, from terror of the morrow,
Waste the given day in sorrow:
Attend, propitious Power, my claim!
Do thou invading cares repell:
With thee, dear goddess, let me dwell,
And laugh at life's amusing game.
THE END.