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HYMN TO APOLLO.
COD of the golden bow,
And of the golden lyre,
And of the golden fire,
Round the patient year,
Where—where slept thinc ire, When like a blank idiot I put on thy wreath,
Thy laurel, thy glory,
The light of thy story, Or was I a worm—too low creeping for death i
O Delphic Apollo !
T'he Thunderer grasp'd and graspid,
The Thunderer frown'd and frown'd;
Of breeding thunder
Went drowsily under,
Why touch thy soft lute
Till the thunder was mute, Why was I not crush'd—such a pitiful germ ?
O Delphic Apollo !
The Pleiades were up,
Watching the silent air ;
The Ocean, its neighbour,
Was at his old labour,
To tie for a moment thy plant round his brow,
Ard grin and look proudly,
And blaspheme so loudly, And live for that honour, to stoop to thee now?
O Delphio Apollo !
ZHEN by my solitary hearth I sit,
soul in gloom;
And the bure heath of life presents no bloom; Sweet Hope ! ethereal balm upon me shed, And wave thy silver pinions o'er my head. Whene'er I wander, at the fall of night, Where woven boughs shut out the moon's bright
ray, Should sad Despondency my musings fright,
And frown, to drive fair Cheerfulness away, Peep with the moonbeams through the leafy roof, And keep that fiend Despondence far aloof. Should Disappointment, parent of Despair,
Strive for her son to seize my careless heart When, like a cloud, he sits upon the air,
Preparing on his spell-bound prey to dart: Chase him away, sweet Hope, with visage bright, And fright him, as the morning frightens night Whene'er the fate of those I hold most dear
Tells to my fearful breast a tale of sorrow, O bright-eyed Hope, my morbid fancy cheer;
Let me awhile thy sweetest comforts borrow : Thy heaven-born radiance around me shed. And wave thy silver pinions o'er my head !
Should e'er unhappy love my bosom pain,
From cruel parents, or relentless fair, O let me think it is not quite in vain
To sigh out sonnets to the midnight air ! Sweet Hope ! ethereal balm upon me shed, And wave thy silver pinions o'er my head. In the long vista of the years to roll,
Let me not see our country's honour fade O let me see our land retain her soul! Her pride, her freedom; and not freedom's
shade. From thy bright eyes unusual brightness shed Beneath thy pinions canopy my head! Let me not see the patriot's high bequest,
Great liberty ! how great in plain attire ! With the base purple of a court oppress'd,
Bowing her head, and ready to expire : But let me see thee stoop from Heaven on wings That fill the skies with silver glitterings! And as, in sparkling majesty, a star
Gilds the bright summit of some gloomy cloud; Brightening the half-veil'd face of heaven afar:
So, when dark thoughts my boding spirit shroud, Sweet Hope! celestial influence round me shed, Waving thy silver pinions o'er my head.
ADST thou lived in days of old,
And thy humid eyes, that dance
Over which thine eyebrows, leaning,
Ah! I see the silver sheen
SPECIMEN OF AN INDUCTION TO
SO! I must tell a tale of chivalry;
For large white plumes are dancing in
Not like the formal crest of latter days Not bending in a thousand graceful ways; So graceful, that it seems no mortal hand, Or e'en the touch of Archimago's wand,