« ÎnapoiContinuă »
O Pallas! queen of ev'ry art
"That glads the sense, or mends the heart,"
Blest source of purer joys:
That breathes no wild desires;
Not Fortune's Gem, Ambition's plume,
To me thy better gifts impart,
By studious thought refin'd:
For Wealth, the smiles of glad content,
An empire o’er my mind.
Wher Fortune drops her gay parade,
Unchang'd is thy immortal prize,
By thee protected I defy
Alike contemn the leaden fool,
And all the pointed ridicule
From envy, hurry, noise and strife,
In thy retreat I rest:
He bid Ilyssus' tuneful stream
Of perfect, fair, and good: Attentive Athens caught the sound, And all her list'ning sons around, In awful silence stood.
Reclaim'd her wild licentious youth, Confest the potent voice of truth,
And felt its just controul:
The passions ceas'd their loud alarms, And Virtue's soft persuasive charms O'er all their senses stole.
Thy breath inspires the poet's song,
The hero's gen'rous strife;
No more to fabled names confin'd, To thee! supreme, all-perfect mind,
My thoughts direct their flight : Wisdom's thy gift, and all her force From thee deriv'd, unchanging source Of intellectual light!
O send her sure, her steady ray
Thro' life's perplexing road:
Beneath her clear discerning eye,
She sees, thro' ev'ry fair disguise,
To the Foregoing
Now see my Goddess, earthly born,
With smiling looks, and sparkling eyes, And with a bloom that shames the morn New risen in the eastern skies!
Furnish'd from Nature's boundless store,
A nymph of pleasure's laughing train, Stranger to all the wise explore,
She proves all far-sought knowledge vain,
Untaught as Venus, when she found
And unaccomplish'd all as Eve
In the first morning of her life, When Adam blush'd, and ask'd her leave To take her hand, and call her Wife.
Yet there is something in her face,
And there is magic in her eye,
Tho' she's unskill'd to conjure down The pale moon from th' affrighted sky, Would draw Endymion from the moon :
And there are words that she can speak,
And she has raptures in her power,
Let me but kiss her soft warm hand,
And let her listen to my tale,
And let one smiling blush arise, Best omen that my vows prevail ! I'll scorn the scorn of all the wise.