Thou who such weary lengths hast past, Where wilt thou rest, mad Nymph, at last? Say, wilt thou shroud in haunted cell, Where gloomy Rape and Murder dwell? Or, in some hollow'd seat, 50 'Gainst which the big waves beat, Hear drowning seamen's cries, in tempests brought? Dark power, with shuddering meek submitted thought, Be mine to read the visions old Which thy awakening bards have told: 55 And, lest thou meet my blasted view, Hold each strange tale devoutly true; Ne'er be I found, by thee o'erawed, In that thrice hallow'd eve, abroad, When ghosts, as cottage maids believe, 60 Their pebbled beds permitted leave; And goblins haunt, from fire, or fen, Or mine, or flood, the walks of men! O thou, whose spirit most possest The sacred seat of Shakespeare's breast! 65 By all that from thy prophet broke, In thy divine emotions spoke; Hither again thy fury deal, Teach me but once like him to feel: His cypress wreath my meed decree, 70 And I, O Fear, will dwell with thee! FOOTNOTES: [15] Alluding to the Κυνας αφυκτους ~Kynas aphyktous~ of Sophocles. See the Electra. C. [16] Æschylus. C. [17] Jocasta. C. [18] ουδ’ ετ’ ωρωρει βοη, Ην μεν σιωπη; φθεγμα δ’ εξαιφνης τινος Θωυξεν αυτον, ὡστε παντας ορθιας Στησαι φοβω δεισαντας εξαιφνης τριχας. ~----oud' et' ôrôrei boê, Ên men siôpê; phthegma d' exaiphnês tinos Thôuxen auton, hôste pantas orthias Stêsai phobô deisantas exaiphnês trichas.~ See the Œdip. Colon. of Sophocles. C. ODE TO SIMPLICITY. O thou, by Nature taught To breathe her genuine thought, In numbers warmly pure, and sweetly strong; Who first, on mountains wild, In Fancy, loveliest child, 5 Thy babe, or Pleasure's, nursed the powers of song! Thou, who, with hermit heart, Disdain'st the wealth of art, And gauds, and pageant weeds, and trailing pall; But com'st a decent maid, 10 In attic robe array'd, O chaste, unboastful Nymph, to thee I call! By all the honey'd store On Hybla's thymy shore; By all her blooms, and mingled murmurs dear; 15 By her[19] whose lovelorn woe, In evening musings slow, Soothed sweetly sad Electra's poet's ear: By old Cephisus deep, Who spread his wavy sweep, 20 In warbled wanderings, round thy green retreat; On whose enamel'd side, When holy Freedom died, No equal haunt allured thy future feet.