Of these, and all the thousand nameless ills, 350 That one incessant struggle render life, One scene of toil, of suff'ring, and of fate; Vice in his high career would stand appall'd, And heedless rambling Impulse learn to think; The conscious heart of Charity would warm, 355 And her wide wish Benevolence dilate; The social tear would rise, the social sigh; And into clear perfection, gradual bliss, Refining still, the social passions work. And here can I forget the generous band, 360 Who, touch'd with human woe, redressive search'd Into the horrors of the gloomy jail? Unpitied and unheard, where misery moans; Where Sickness pines; where Thirst and Hunger burn, And poor Misfortune feels the lash of Vice. 365 While in the land of liberty-the land Whose every street and public meeting glow Tore from cold wintry limbs the tatter'd weed; 370 Even robb'd them of the last of comforts, sleep; The free-born Briton to the dungeon chain'd, Or, as the lust of cruelty prevail'd, At pleasure mark'd him with inglorious stripes; And crush'd out lives, by secret barbarous ways, 375 That for their country would have toil'd, or bled. Oh great design! if executed well, With patient care and wisdom-temper'd zeal. Ye sons of mercy! yet resume the search; Drag forth the legal monsters into light, 380 Wrench from their hands Oppression's iron rod, And bid the cruel feel the pangs they give. Much still untouch'd remains; in this rank age, Much is the patriot's weeding hand requir'd. The toils of law,-what dark insidious men 385 Have cumbrous added, to perplex the truth, And lengthen simple justice into trade,- RULE BRITANNIA (1740) When Britain first at Heaven's command This was the charter of her land, And guardian angels sung the strain: 5 Rule, Britannia! Britannia rules the waves! Britons never shall be slaves. 10 The nations not so blest as thee Must in their turn to tyrants fall, Still more majestic shalt thou rise, More dreadful from each foreign stroke; 15 Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame; 20 To thee belongs the rural reign; Thy cities shall with commerce shine; The Muses, still with Freedom found, Shall to thy happy coast repair; 25 Blest Isle, with matchless beauty crown'd : And manly hearts to guard the fair:- William Collins 1721-1759. ODE TO EVENING (From Odes, 1746) If aught of oaten stop, or pastoral song, Thy springs, and dying gales, 5 O nymph reserved, while now the bright-haired sun, Sits in yon western tent, whose cloudy skirts, O'erhang his wavy bed: Now air is hushed, save where the weak-eyed bat 10 With short, shrill shriek, flits by on leathern 15 wing; Or where the beetle winds His small but sullen horn, As oft he rises 'midst the twilight path, To breath some softened strain, 20 Whose numbers, stealing through thy darkening vale, May, not unseemly, with its stillness suit, As, musing slow, I hail Thy genial loved return! For when thy folding star arising shows Who slept in flowers the day, 25 And many a nymph who wreathes her brows with sedge, And sheds the freshening dew, and, lovelier still, Prepare thy shadowy car. There lead, calm votaress, where some sheety lake 30 Cheers the lone heath, or some time-hallowed pile, Or up-land fallows grey 35 40 Reflect its last cool gleam. But when chill blustering winds, or driving rain, That from the mountain's side, And hamlets brown, and dim-discovered spires; The gradual dusky veil. While spring shall pour his showers, as oft he wont, And bathe thy breathing tresses, meekest eve! 45 While sallow autumn fills thy lap with leaves; Or winter yelling through the troublous air, Affrights thy shrinking train, And rudely rends thy robes; So long, sure-found beneath the sylvan shed, 50 Shall fancy, friendship, science, rose-lipp'd health, Thy gentlest influence own, THE PASSIONS AN ODE FOR MUSIC (From the same) When music, heavenly maid, was young, 20 Even at the sound himself had made. |