To the Late Lord Shaftsbury's Ghost; Spoken After the Above Poems, Before Him Early One Morning, in a Vision: An Ode
My Muse her fate from your decision waits.
Her talent, Sir! tho' slender you'll approve,
As still devoted, Virtue! to thy cause.
And Awful Virtue bids, Let that suffice,
Stopping Ambition's voice, yet not her sigh
To win A POLLO'S laurel, your applause;
For your applauding Smiles immortalize.
Oh! Say, you hope at least, I may excell.
That friendly Hope, conspiring with my own,
Shall, like this rising Sun, the dewy damps
Of the Soul's midnight indolence disperse:
Shall to the zenith snatch my strengthen'd eye,
To view Fair Nature's universal glow;
And with her genial heat my heart inspir'd,
Delightful sympathy! shall to my lips
Instinctive prompt th' involuntary song.
Her talent, Sir! tho' slender you'll approve,
As still devoted, Virtue! to thy cause.
And Awful Virtue bids, Let that suffice,
Stopping Ambition's voice, yet not her sigh
To win A POLLO'S laurel, your applause;
For your applauding Smiles immortalize.
Oh! Say, you hope at least, I may excell.
That friendly Hope, conspiring with my own,
Shall, like this rising Sun, the dewy damps
Of the Soul's midnight indolence disperse:
Shall to the zenith snatch my strengthen'd eye,
To view Fair Nature's universal glow;
And with her genial heat my heart inspir'd,
Delightful sympathy! shall to my lips
Instinctive prompt th' involuntary song.
Translation:
Language:
Reviews
No reviews yet.