: Praise is reproach. Eternal God alone The kindred powers, Tethys, and reverend Ope, For mortals fixeth that sublime award. And spotless Vesta ; while supreme of sway He, from the faithful records of his throne, Remain'd the cloud-compeller. From the couch Bids the historian and the bard Of Tethys sprang the sedgy-crowned race, Dispose of honor and of scorn; Who from a thousand urns, o'er every clime, Send tribute to their parent: and from them And tuneful Aganippe; that sweet name, With Syrian Daphne ; and the honor'd tribes Belov'd of Pæon. Listen to my strain, Daughters of Tethys : listen to your praise. You, Nymphs, the winged offspring, which of old 1746. Aurora to divine Astræus bore, Owns; and your aid beseecheth. When the might Of Hyperion, from his noontide throne are addressed at day-break, in honor of their They ask : Favonius and the mild South-west For you their choicest treasures. Pan commands, Oft as the Delian king with Sirius holds O'er yonder eastern hill the twilight pale The central heavens, the father of the grove Wolks forth from darkness; and the god of day, Commands his Dryads over your abodes With bright Astræa seated by his side, To spread their deepest umbrage. Well the god Waits yet to leave the ocean. Tarry, Nymphs, Remembereth how indulgent ye supplied Ye Nymphs, ye blue-ey'd progeny of Thames, Your genial dew's to nurse them in their prime. Who now the mazes of this rugged heath Pales, the pasture's queen, where'er ye stray, Trace with your fleeting steps; who all night long Pursues your steps, delighted; and the path Repeat, amid the cool and tranquil air, With living verdure clothes. Around your haunts Your lonely murmurs, tarry: and receive The laughing Chloris, with profusest hand, My offer'd lay. To pay you homage due, Throws wide her blooms, her odors. Still with you I leave the gates of Sleep; nor shall my lyre Pomona seeks to dwell: and o'er ihe lawns, Too far into the splendid hours of morn And o'er the vale of Richmond, where with Thames Engage your audience: my observant hand Ye love to wander, Amalthea pours Shall close the strain ere any sultry beam Well-pleas'd the wealth of that Ammonian horn, Approach you. To your subterranean haunts Her dower; unmindful of the fragrant isles Ye then may timely steal; to pace with care Nysæan or Atlantic. Nor canst thou, The humid sands; to loosen from the soil (Albeit ost, ungrateful, thon dost mock The bubbling sources; to direct the rills The beverage of the sober Naiad's urn, O Bromius, O Lenaan) nor canst thou Where shall my song begin, ye Nymphs? or end? Yet, blameless Nymphs, from my delighted lyre, Wide is your praise and copious-First of things, Accept the rites your bounty well may claim, First of the lonely powers, ere Time arose, Nor heed the scoffings of the Edonian band. Were Love and Chaos. Love the sire of Fate ; For better praise awaits you. Thames, your sire, Elder than Chaos. Born of Fate was 'Time, As down the verdant slope your duteous rills Who many sons and many comely births Descend, the tribute stately Thames receives, Devour'd, relentless father: till the child Delighted ; and your piety applauds ; Of Rhea drove him from the upper sky And bids his copious tide roll on secure, And quell'd his deadly might. Then social reign'd For faithful are his daughters; and with words urns Auspicious gratulates the bark which, now Which wait on human life. Your gentle aid May beat upon his brow, through devious paths By you, my function and my honor'd name Beckons his rapid courser. Nor when ease, Do I possess; while o'er the Bætic vale, Cool ease and welcome slumbers have becalm'd Or through the towers of Memphis, or the palms His eager bosom, does the queen of health By sacred Ganges water'd, I conduct Her pleasing care withhold. His decent board The English merchant: with the buxom fleece She guards, presiding; and the frugal powers Of fertile Ariconium while I clothe With joy sedate leads in: and while the brown Sarmalian kings; or to the household gods Ennæan dame with Pan presents her stores; Of Syria, from the bleak Cornubian shore, While changing still, and comely in the change, Dispense the mineral treasure which of old Vertumnus and the Hours before him spread Sidonian pilots sought, when this fair land The garden's banquet; you to crown his seast, Was yet unconscious of those generous arts To crown his feast, О Naiads, you the fair Which wise Phænicia from their native clime Hygeia calls: and from your shelving seats, Transplanted to a more indulgent Heaven." And groves of poplar, plenteous cups ye bring, Such are the words of Hermes: such the praise, To slake his veins : till soon a purer tide O Naiads, which from tongues celestial waits Flows down those loaded channels; washeth off Your bounteous deeds. From bounty issueth power: The dregs of luxury, the lurking seeds And those who, sedulous in prudent works, of crude disease ; and through the abodes of life Relieve the wants of nature, Jove repays Sends vigor, sends repose. Hail, Naiads : hail, With noble wealth, and his own seat on Earth, Who give, to labor, health; to stooping age, Fit judgments to pronounce, and curb the might The joys which youth had squander'd. Oft your Of wicked men. Your kind unfailing urns Not vaivly to the hospitable arts Will I invoke; and, frequent in your praise, Of Hermes yield their store. For, Oye Nymphs, Abash the frantic Thyrsus with my song. Hath he not won the unconquerable queen For not estrang'd from your benignant arts of arms to court your friendship? You she owns Is he, the god, to whose mysterious shrine The fair associates who extend her sway My youth was sacred, and my votive cares Wide o'er the mighty deep; and grateful things Belong; the learn'd Pæon. Oft, when all Of you she utlereth, oft as from the shore His cordial treasures he bath search'd in vain; of Thames, or Medway's vale, or the green banks When herbs, and potent trees, and drops of balm Of Vecta, she her thundering navy leads Rich with the genial influence of the Sun, To Calpe's foaming channel, or the rough (To rouse dark Fancy from her plaintive dreams, Cantabrian surge; her auspices divine To brace the nerveless arm, with food to win Imparting to the senate and the prince Sick appetite, or hush the unquiet breast Of Albion, to dismay barbaric kings, Which pines with silent passion, he in vain The Iberian, or the Celt. The pride of kings Hath prov'd; to your deep mansions he descends, Was ever scorn'd by Pallas : and of old Your gates of humid rock, your dim areades, Rejoic'd the virgin, from the brazen prow He entereth ; where empurpled veins of ore of Athens o'er Ægina's gloomy surge, Gleam on the roof; where through the rigid mine To drive her clouds and storms; o'erwhelming all Your trickling rills insinuate. There the god The Persian's promis'd glory, when the realms From your indulgent hands the streaming bowl Of Indus and the soft Ionian clime, Wafts to his pale-ey'd suppliants; wasts the seeds When Libya's torrid champain and the rocks Metallic, and the elemental salts [soon Of cold Imaus join'd their servile bands, Wash'd from the pregnant glebe. They drink: and To sweep the sons of Liberty from Earth. Flies pain; Ries inauspicious care: and soon In vain : Minerva on the bounding prow The social haunt or unfrequented shade Of Athens slood, and with the thunder's voice Hears lo, lo Pæan; as of old, Denounc'd her terrors on their impious heads, When Python fell. And, Oh propitious Nymphs, And shook her burning ægis. Xerxes saw: Oft as for helpless mortals I implore From Heracleum, on the mountain's height Your salutary springs, through every urn Thrond in his golden car, he knew the sign Oh shed your healing treasures. With the first Celestial; felt unrighteous hope forsake And finest breath, which from the genial strife His faltering heart, and turn'd his face with shame. of mineral sermentation springs like light Hail, ye who share the stern Minerva's power; O'er the fresh morning's vapors, lustrate then Who arm the hand of Liberty for war; The fountain, and inform the rising wave. And give to the renown'd Britannic name My lyre shall pay your bounty. Scorn not ye" To awe contending monarchs: yet benign, That humble tribute. Though a mortal hand Yet mild of nature; to the works of peace Excite the strings to utterance, yet for themes More prone, and lenient of the many ills Not unregarded of celestial powers, I frame their language ; and the Muses deign With verse; let him, fit votarist, implore Their inspiration. He perchance the gifts of young Lyæus, and the dread exploits, In early days did to my wondering sense May sing in aptest numbers : he the fate Their secrets oft reveal: oft my rais'd ear Of sober Pentheus, he the Paphian rites, In slumber felt their music: oft at noon, And naked Mars with Cytherea chain'd, Or hour of sun-set, by some lonely stream, And strong Alcides in the spinster's robes, In field or shady grove, they taught me words May celebrate, applauded. But with you, Of power, from death and envy to preserve O Naiads, far from that unhallow'd rout, The good man's name. Whence yet with grateful Must dwell the man whoe'er to praised themes mind, Invokes the immortal Muse. The immortal Muse And offerings unprofan'd by ruder eye, To your calm habitations, to the cave To mortals he reveal; or teach his lyre Where sacred bards abide. Hail, honor'd Nymphs; With emulation all the sounding choir, Thrice hail. For you the Cyrenaïc shell Behold, I touch, revering. To my songs ODE TO THE RIGHT REVEREND BENJAMIN, LORD. Sleeps the stern eagle; by the number'd notes, BISHOP OF WINCHESTER. 1. Envy may rail ; and Faction fierce To gratitude and love oppose, O nurse of Freedom, Albion, say, Thou tamer of despotic sway, What page in all thy annals bright, Hast thou with purer joy survey'd With hostile emulation. Down they rush Than that where Truth, by Hoadly's aid, From Nysa's vine-empurpled cliff, the dames Shines through Imposture's solemn shade, Of Thrace, the Satyrs, and the unruly Fauns, Through kingly and through sacerdotal night? With old Silenus, reeling through the crowd Which gambols round him, in convulsions wild To him the Teacher bless'd, Tossing their limbs, and brandishing in air Who sent Religion, from the palmy field The ivy-mantled thyrsus, or the torch By Jordan, like the morn to cheer the west, Through black smoke flaming, to the Phrygian pipe's And lifted up the veil which Heaven from Earth Shrill voice, and to the clashing cymbals, mird conceald, With shrieks and frantic uproar. May the gods To Hoadly thus his mandate he address'd: From every unpolluted ear avert "Go thou, and rescue my dishonor'd law Their orgies! If within the seats of men, From hands rapacious, and from tongues impure Within the walls, the gates, where Pallas holds Let not my peaceful name be made a lure The guardian key, if haply there be found Fell Persecution's mortal snares to aid : Who loves to mingle with the revel-band Let not my words be impious chains to draw And hearken to their accents; who aspires The free-born soul in more than brutal awe, From such instructors to inform his breast To faith without assent, allegiance unrepaid." II. III. No cold or unperforming hand But where shall recompense be found ? Was arm'd by Heaven with this command. Or how such arduous merit crown'd? The world soon felt it: and, on high, For look on life's laborious scene; To William's ear with welcome joy What rugged spaces lie between Did Locke among the blest unfold Adventurous Virtue's early toils The rising hope of Hoadly's name, And her triumphal throne! The shade Godolphin then confirm'd the fame; Of Death, meantime, does oft invade Her progress; nor, to us display'd, Yet born to conquer is her power : -0 Hoadly, if that favorite hour (Sires of the Grecian name renown'd,) On Earth arrive, with thankful awe And listening ask'd, and wondering knew, We own just Heaven's indulgent law. What private force could thus subdue And proudly thy success behold; The vulgar and the great combin'd; We attend thy reverend length of days Could war with sacred Folly wage ; With benediction and with praise, Could a whole nation disengage And hail thee in our public ways From the dread bonds of many an age, Like some great spirit fam'd in ages old. While thus our vows prolong Thy steps on Earth, and when by us resign'd Nor the strong powers to civil founders known, Thou join'st thy seniors, that heroic throng Were his: but truth by faithful search explor'd, Who rescued or preserv'd the rights of human kind, And social sense, like seed, in genial plenty sown. 0! not unworthy may thy Albion's tongue Wherever it took root, the soul (restor'd Thee still, her friend and benefactor, name : To freedom) freedom too for others sought. 0! never, Hoadly, in thy country's eyes, Not monkish craft, the tyrant's claim divine, May impious gold, or pleasure's gaudy prize, Not regal zeal, the bigot's cruel shrine, Make public virtue, public freedom, vile; Could longer guard from reason's warfare sage; Nor our own manners tempt us to disclaim Not the wild rabble to sedition wrought, That heritage, our noblest wealth and fame, Nor synods by the pa pal genius taught, Which thou hast kept entire from force and factious Nor St. John's spirit loose, nor Atterbury's rage. guile. THOMAS GRAY. Thomas Gray, a distinguished poet, was the son laureate, vacant by the death of Cibber, was offered of a money-scrivener in London, where he was to Gray, but declined by him. In the same year he born in 1716. He received his education at Eton-published two odes, “On the Progress of Poesy," school, whence he was sent to the university of and " The Bard,” which were not so popular as his Cambridge, and entered as a pensioner at St. Peter's Elegy had been, chiefly, perhaps, because they were College. He left Cambridge in 1738, and occu- less understood. The uniform life passed by this pied a set of chambers in the Inner Temple, for eminent person admits of few details, but the iransthe purpose of studying the law. From this inten- action respecting the professorship of modern history tion he was diverted by an invitation to accompany at Cambridge, a place worth four hundred pounds Mr. Horace Walpole, son of the celebrated states. a year, is worthy of some notice. When the situaman, with whom he had made a connexion at Eton, tion became vacant in Lord Bute's administration, in a tour through Europe. Some disagreement, it was modestly asked for by Gray, but had already of which Mr. Walpole generously took the blame, been bespoken by another. On a second vacancy caused them to separate in Italy; and Gray return in 1768, the Duke of Graston being now in power, ed to England in September, 1741, two months be- it was, “unsolicited and unsuspected,” conferred fore his father's death. Gray, who now depended upon him; in return for which he wrote his " Ode chiefly upon his mother and aunt, left the law, and for Music,” for the installation of that nobleman as relurned to his retirement at Cambridge. In the chancellor of the university. This professorship, next year he had the misfortune to lose his dear though founded in 1724, had hitherto remained a friend West, also an Eton scholar, and son to the perfect sinecure; but Gray prepared himself to Chancellor of Ireland, which left a vacancy in his execute the duties of his office. Such, howerer, affections, that seems never to have been supplied. were the baneful effects of habitual indolence, that, From this time his residence was chiefly at Cam- with a mind replete with ancient and modern knowbridge, to which he was probably attached by an in- ledge, he found himself unable to proceed farther satiable love of books, which he was unable to grati- than to draw a plan for his inauguration speech. fy from his own stores. Some years passed in this But his health was now declining; an irregular favorite indulgence, in which his exquisite learning hereditary gout made more frequent attacks than and poetic talents were only known to a few friends; formerly; and at length, while he was dining in the and it was not till 1747, that his “Ode on a distant College-hall, he was seized with a complaint in the Prospect of Eton College" made its appearance be stomach, which carried him off on July 30, 1771, in fore the public. It was in 1751 that his celebrated the fifty-fifth year of his age. His remains were "Elegy written in a Country Church-yard," chiefly deposited, with those of his mother and aunt, in the composed some years before, and even now sent church-yard of Stoke-Pogis, Buckinghamshire. into the world without the author's name, made its It is exclusively as a poet that we record the way to the press. Few poems were ever so popu- name of Gray; and it will, perhaps, be thought lar: it soon ran through eleven editions; was that we borrow too large a share from a single small translated into Latin verse, and has ever since borne volume; yet this should be considered as indicative the inarks of being one of the most favorite pro- of the high rank which he has attained, compared ductions of the British Muse. with the number of his compositions. With respect In the manners of Gray there was a degree of to his character as a man of learning, since his ac. effeminacy and fastidiousness which exposed him to quisitions were entirely for his own use, and prothe character of a fribble; and a few riotous young duced no fruits for the public, it has no claim to men of fortune in his college thought proper to particular notice. For though he has been called make him a subject for their boisterous tricks. He by one of his admirers “perhaps the most learned made remonstrances to the heads of the society man in Europe," never was learning more thrown upon this usage, which being treated, as he thought, away. A few pieces of Latin poetry are all that he without due attention, he removed in 1756 to Pem- has to produce. broke-hall. In the next year, the office of poet |