ODE UPON SOLITUDE.

HAIL, sacred Solitude! from this calm bay
I view the world's tempestuous sea,
And with wise pride despise

All those senseless vanities:

With pity moved for others, cast away
On rocks of hopes and fears, I see them toss'd
On rocks of folly, and of vice, I see them lost.
Some the prevailing malice of the great,
Unhappy men, or adverse fate,

Sunk deep into the gulfs of an afflicted state.
But more, far more, a numberless prodigious train,
Whilst Virtue courts them, but, alas! in vain,
Fly from her kind embracing arms,

Deaf to her fondest call, blind to her greatest charms,

And, sunk in pleasures and in brutish ease,
They in their shipwreck'd state themselves ob-
durate please.

Hail, sacred Solitude! soul of my soul,
It is by thee I truly live,

Thou dost a better life and nobler vigour give;

Dost each unruly appetite control:

Thy constant quiet fills my peaceful breast
With unmix'd joy, uninterrupted rest.
Presuming love does ne'er invade

This private solitary shade :

And, with fantastic wounds by beauty made,

The joy has no allay of jealousy, hope, and fear,
The solid comforts of this happy sphere:
Yet I exalted Love admire,
Friendship, abhorring sordid gain,

And purified from Lust's dishonest stain :
Nor is it for my solitude unfit,

For I am with my friend alone,

As if we were but one;

"Tis the polluted love that multiplies, But friendship does two souls in one comprise.

Here in a full and constant tide doth flow
All blessings man can hope to know.
Here in a deep recess of thought we find
Pleasures which entertain, and which exalt the

mind;

Pleasures which do from friendship and from knowledge rise,

Which make us happy, as they make us wise:
Here may I always on this downy grass,
Unknown, unseen, my easy minutes pass:
Till with a gentle force victorious Death
My solitude invade,

And, stopping for a while my breath,
With ease convey me to a better shade.

107

THE DREAM.

To the pale tyrant, who to horrid graves
Condemns so many thousand helpless slaves,
Ungrateful we do gentle sleep compare,
Who, though his victories as numerous are,
Yet from his slaves no tribute does he take,
But woeful cares that load men while they wake.
When his soft charms had eased my weary sight
Of all the baleful troubles of the light,
Dorinda came, divested of the scorn

Which the unequal'd maid so long had worn ;
How oft, in vain, had Love's arch god essay'd
To tame the stubborn heart of that bright maid!
Yet, spite of all the pride that swells her mind,
The humble God of Sleep can make her kind.
A rising blush increased the native store
Of charms, that but too fatal were before.
Once more present the vision to my view,
The sweet illusion, gentle Fate, renew!
How kind, how lovely she, how ravish'd I!
Show me, bless'd God of Sleep, and let me die.

THE

GHOST OF THE OLD HOUSE OF COMMONS,

TO THE NEW ONE,

APPOINTED TO MEET AT OXFORD.

FROM deepest dungeons of eternal night,
The seats of horror, sorrow, pains, and spite,
I have been sent to tell you, tender youth,
A seasonable and important truth.