Content and Leisure, hand in hand With Innocence and Peace, advance, and sing; And Mirth, in many a mazy ring, Frisks o'er the flowery land. II. 3. Frail man, how various is thy lot below! And Peace, soft gliding down the sky, To-morrow the gay scene deforms; Then all around The thunder's sound Rolls rattling on through heaven's profound, And down rush all the storms. Ye days, that balmy influence shed, Ye cherub train, that brought him on his way, O leave him not midst tumult and dismay; For now youth's eminence he gains: But what a weary length of lingering toil remains! III. 1. They shrink, they vanish into air. Now Slander taints with pestilence the gale; And mingling cries assail, The wail of Woe, and groans of grim Despair. Darts quick destruction in each baleful glance; Pride, smiling stern, and yellow Jealousy, Frowning Disdain, and hagard Hate advance; Pale wither'd Care his giant-stature rears, And lo, his iron hand prepares III. 2. Who now will guard bewildered youth Safe from the fierce assaults of hostile rage? Such war can Virtue wage, Virtue, that bears the sacred shield of Truth! Alas! full oft on Guilt's victorious car The spoils of Virtue are in triumph borne; While the fair captive, marked with many a scar, In lone obscurity, oppressed, forlorn, Resigns to tears her angel form. Ill-fated youth, then, whither wilt thou fly? No friend, no shelter now is nigh, And onward rolls the storm. III. 3. But whence the sudden beam that shoots along? Why shrink aghast the hostile throng? Lo, from amidst Affliction's night, Hope bursts, all radiant, on the sight: 66 Though foes invade, Hope ne'er is wanting to their aid, "Who tread the path of truth. ""Tis I, who smooth the rugged way, "I, who close the eyes of Sorrow, "And with glad visions of to-morrow Repair the weary soul's decay. "When Death's cold touch thrills to the freezing heart, "Dreams of heaven's opening glories I impart, "Till the freed spirit springs on high, "In rapture too severe for weak Mortality." PYGMEO-GERANO-MACHIA, THE BATTLE OF THE PIGMIES AND CRANES. FROM THE LATIN OF ADDISON. THE pygmy-people, and the feathered train, I sing. Ye Muses, favour my designs, Lead on my squadrons, and arrange the lines; The flashing swords and fluttering wings display, Cranes darting with disdain on tiny foes, Conflicting birds and men, and war's unnumbered woes! |