And many a nymph who wreaths her brows with sedge, And sheds the freshening dew, and, lovelier still, The pensive Pleasures sweet Prepare thy shadowy car. Then let me rove some wild and heathy scene; Or find some ruin, midst its dreary dells, Whose walls more awful nod By thy religious gleams. Or if chill blustering winds or driving rain And hamlets brown, and dim-discover'd spires; The gradual dusky veil. While Spring shall pour his showers, as oft he wont, While sallow Autumn fills thy lap with leaves; And rudely rends thy robes; So long regardful of thy quiet rule, Shall Fancy, Friendship, Science, smiling Peace Thy gentlest influence own, And love thy favourite name! COLLINS. ODES TO SLEEP. 1. O THOU whose light touch sheds the opiate dews In Fancy's gorgeous garb and imagery sublime : That potent necromantic spell Which holds the soul in wonder's trance,. Oft has the bard whom genius warms, And sketch'd the high wrought scenes, and bade them glow In radiant hues of light, and Fiction's solemn show. But far, far greater boast was thine When Inspiration led thy band; Alarm with prodigy and dire portent, Thou camest; but which when Wisdom's self be held, Rightly she augured what thy visions meant, Shadow'd in doubtful hues by some immortal hand When breathing mystic truths divine, Full many a seer and prophet thou hast taught, Behests of dread command and import high; In cloudless perspective the future caught: Converse with man; the midnight hour And coruscations of eternal day Waved, queen of silence! o'er thy darksome bower; Heaven oped her golden portals wide, And far within her glittering courts were spied The' angelic phalanx robed in vestments bright* To earth descending slow from yon fair worlds of light. And still thy gracious forms await Unfolding opens heaven; then floods the scene, And tyrants oft have heard with dread The cry of vengeance thundering in their ear, * Genesis xxviii. 12. While the pale spectre Fear Hangs her dire portents round the regal bed, Horrors and woes and death: Night's demons loud Shriek to the moon afar, from many a passing cloud. Beneath the dim Earth's centre deep, The shadow of the evening strays, And busy murmurs creep: While dreams in clusters thick are spread, Like hovering mists about thy head, That with fantastic wing thy dewy eyelids sweep. About thy sable standard pass Of Hopes and Fears a mingled mass, From Thetis' coral-woven bed, No more the lover's arms enfold The fair, snatch'd sudden from his view; Slips from the miser's grasp the evanescent gold. Vast and stupendous beyond aught, Or what beside of high-wrought lore And airy voices wake that whisper fear: [wild, His steps thou lead'st to shadowy wood scenes Or, where stupendous precipices piled Gleam through the' untrodden wilderness afar; Mute wonder and astonishment; |