The Poetical Works of William Collins; With a MemoirCollins, William
General
The Poetical Works of William Collins; With a Memoir
Collins, William
Poetry
O sister meek of Truth, 25
To my admiring youth,
Thy sober aid and native charms infuse!
The flowers that sweetest breathe,
Though Beauty cull'd the wreath,
Still ask thy hand to range their order'd hues. 30
While Rome could none esteem
But virtue's patriot theme,
You lov'd her hills, and led her laureat band:
But staid to sing alone
To one distinguish'd throne; 35
And turn'd thy face, and fled her alter'd land.
No more, in hall or bower,
The Passions own thy power,
Love, only Love her forceless numbers mean:
For thou hast left her shrine; 40
Nor olive more, nor vine,
Shall gain thy feet to bless the servile scene.
Though taste, though genius, bless
To some divine excess,
Faints the cold work till thou inspire the whole; 45
What each, what all supply,
May court, may charm, our eye;
Thou, only thou, canst raise the meeting soul!
Of these let others ask,
To aid some mighty task, 50
I only seek to find thy temperate vale;
Where oft my reed might sound
To maids and shepherds round,
And all thy sons, O Nature, learn my tale.
FOOTNOTES:
[19] The αηδων ~aêdôn~, or nightingale, for which Sophocles seems to
have entertained a peculiar fondness. C.
ODE ON THE POETICAL CHARACTER.
As once,--if, not with light regard,
I read aright that gifted bard,
--Him whose school above the rest
His loveliest elfin queen has blest;--
One, only one, unrival'd[20] fair, 5
Might hope the magic girdle wear,
At solemn turney hung on high,
The wish of each love-darting eye;
--Lo! to each other nymph, in turn, applied,
As if, in air unseen, some hovering hand, 10
Some chaste and angel friend to virgin fame,
With whisper'd spell had burst the starting band,
It left unblest her loathed dishonour'd side;
Happier, hopeless Fair, if never
Her baffled hand, with vain endeavour, 15
Had touch'd that fatal zone to her denied!
Young Fancy thus, to me divinest name,
To whom, prepared and bathed in heaven,
The cest of amplest power is given:
To few the godlike gift assigns, 20
To gird their blest prophetic loins,
And gaze her visions wild, and feel unmix'd her flame!
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