But when from envy and from death to claim A hero bleeding for his native land; When to throw incense on the vestal flame Of Liberty my genius gives command, Nor Theban voice nor Lesbian lyre From thee, O Muse, do I require; While my presaging mind, Conscious of powers she never knew, Astonish'd, grasps at things beyond her view, Nor by another's fate submits to be confined. [Footnote 1: 'The Lesbian patriot:' Alcaeus.] [Footnote 2: 'The man of Thebes:' Pindar.] ODE XIV. TO THE HONOURABLE CHARLES TOWNSHEND; FROM THE COUNTRY. 1 Say, Townshend, what can London boast To pay thee for the pleasures lost, The health to-day resign'd, When Spring from this her favourite seat Bade Winter hasten his retreat, And met the western wind. 2 Oh, knew'st thou how the balmy air, The sun, the azure heavens prepare To heal thy languid frame, No more would noisy courts engage; In vain would lying Faction's rage Thy sacred leisure claim. 3 Oft I look'd forth, and oft admired; Till with the studious volume tired I sought the open day; And sure, I cried, the rural gods Expect me in their green abodes, And chide my tardy lay. 4 But ah, in vain my restless feet Traced every silent shady seat Which knew their forms of old: Nor Naiad by her fountain laid, Nor Wood-nymph tripping through her glade, Did now their rites unfold: 5 Whether to nurse some infant oak They turn--the slowly tinkling brook, And catch the pearly showers, Or brush the mildew from the woods, Or paint with noontide beams the buds, Or breathe on opening flowers. 6 Such rites, which they with Spring renew, The eyes of care can never view; And care hath long been mine: And hence offended with their guest, Since grief of love my soul oppress'd, They hide their toils divine. 7 But soon shall thy enlivening tongue This heart, by dear affliction wrung, With noble hope inspire: Then will the sylvan powers again Receive me in their genial train, And listen to my lyre. 8 Beneath yon Dryad's lonely shade A rustic altar shall be paid, Of turf with laurel framed; And thou the inscription wilt approve: 'This for the peace which, lost by love, By friendship was reclaim'd' ODE XV. TO THE EVENING STAR. 1 To-night retired, the queen of heaven With young Endymion stays: And now to Hesper it is given A while to rule the vacant sky, Till she shall to her lamp supply A stream of brighter rays. 2 O Hesper, while the starry throng With awe thy path surrounds, Oh, listen to my suppliant song, If haply now the vocal sphere Can suffer thy delighted ear To stoop to mortal sounds.