HYMN TO ADVERSITY. - Ζήνα Τὸν φρονεῖν Βροτούς ὁδώ σαντα, τῷ πάθει μαθών Θέντα κυρίως ἔχειν. ÆSCH. AGAM. ver. 181. DAUGHTER of Jove, relentless power, When first thy sire to send on earth And bade to form her infant mind. What sorrow was, thou bad'st her know, And from her own she learned to melt at others' woe. Scared 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 To her they vow their truth, and are again believed. Wisdom in sable garb arrayed, Immersed in rapturous thought profound, And Melancholy, silent maid, With leaden eye that loves the ground, Warm Charity, the general friend, And Pity, dropping soft the sadly-pleasing tear. O! gently on thy suppliant's head, Dread goddess, lay thy chastening hand! Not in thy Gorgon terrors clad, Not circled with the vengeful band (As by the impious thou art seen), With thundering voice, and threatening mien, With screaming Horror's funeral cry, Despair, and fell Disease, and ghastly Poverty: Thy form benign, O goddess, wear, Thy milder influence impart, Thy philosophic train be there To soften, not to wound, my heart. The generous spark extinct revive, Teach me to love and to forgive, Exact my own defects to scan, What others are to feel, and know myself a Man. 12* AWAKE, Æolian lyre, awake, And give to rapture all thy trembling strings. A thousand rills their mazy progress take : Through verdant vales, and Ceres' golden reign: Now rolling down the steep amain, Headlong, impetuous, see it pour; The rocks and nodding groves rebellow to the roar. I. 2. O! Sovereign of the willing soul, Parent of sweet and solemn-breathing airs, And frantic Passions hear thy soft control. And dropt his thirsty lance at thy command. Of Jove, thy magic lulls the feathered king The terror of his beak, and lightnings of his eye. I. 3. Thee the voice, the dance, obey, O'er Idalia's velvet-green The rosy-crowned Loves are seen With antic Sport, and blue-eyed Pleasures, Now in circling troops they meet: Slow melting strains their Queen's approach declare : With arms sublime, that float upon the air, O'er her warm cheek, and rising bosom, move II. 1. Man's feeble race what ills await! Labor, and Penury, the racks of Pain, Disease, and Sorrow's weeping train, And Death, sad refuge from the storms of fate! The fond complaint, my song, disprove, And justify the laws of Jove. Say, has he given in vain the heavenly Muse? Night and all her sickly dews, Her spectres wan, and birds of boding cry, He gives to range the dreary sky; Till down the eastern cliffs afar Hyperion's march they spy, and glittering shafts of war. II. 2. In climes beyond the solar road, Where shaggy forms o'er ice-built mountains roam, The Muse has broke the twilight gloom To cheer the shivering native's dull abode. And oft, beneath the odorous shade Of Chili's boundless forests laid, She deigns to hear the savage youth repeat, Their feather-cinctured chiefs and dusky loves. Glory pursue, and generous Shame, The unconquerable Mind, and Freedom's holy flame. II. 3. Woods, that wave o'er Delphi's steep, Isles that crown the Egean deep, Fields, that cool Ilissus laves, Or where Mæander's amber waves In lingering labyrinths creep, How do your tuneful echoes languish, Left their Parnassus for the Latian plains. And coward Vice, that revels in her chains. When Latium had her lofty spirit lost, They sought, O Albion! next thy sea-encircled coast. |