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IX.

See the green space: on either hand
Enlarg'd it spreads around:

See, in the midst she takes her stand,
Where one old oak his awful shade
Extends o'er half the level mead,
Inclos'd in woods profound.

X.

Hark, how through many a melting note
She now prolongs her lays:

How sweetly down the void they float!
The breeze their magic path attends:
The stars shine out: the forest bends:
The wakeful heifers gaze.

XI.

Whoe'er thou art whom chance may bring To this sequester'd spot,

If then the plaintive Syren sing,

Oh, softly tread beneath her bower,
And think of Heaven's disposing power,
Of man's uncertain lot.

XII.

Oh, think, o'er all this mortal stage,
What mournful scenes arise:
What ruin waits on kingly rage:
How often virtue dwells with woe:
How many griefs from knowledge flow;
How swiftly pleasure flies.

XIII.

O sacred bird, let me at eve,
Thus wandering all alone,
Thy tender counsel oft receive,
Bear witness to thy pensive airs,
And pity Nature's common cares,
Till I forget my own.

L

ODE XVI.

TO CALEB HARDINGE, M.D.1

I.

WITH Sordid floods the wintry Urn2
Hath stain'd fair Richmond's level green:
Her naked hill the Dryads mourn,

No longer a poetic scene.

No longer there thy raptur'd eye
The beauteous forms of earth or sky
Surveys, as in their Author's mind:
And London shelters from the year
Those whom thy social hours to share
The Attic Muse design'd.

II.

From Hampstead's airy summit me
Her guest the city shall behold,
What day the people's stern decree
To unbelieving kings is told,

When common men (the dread of fame)

Adjudg'd as one of evil name,

Before the sun, the anointed head."

Then seek thou too the pious town,
With no unworthy cares to crown
That evening's awful shade.

III.

Deem not I call thee to deplore
The sacred martyr of the day,
By fast and penitential lore
To purge our ancient guilt away.
For this, on humble faith I rest
That still our advocate, the priest,
From heavenly wrath will save the land:
Nor ask what rites our pardon gain,
Nor how his potent sounds restrain

The thunderer's lifted hand.

1 For many years physician to King George II. He died in 1776. His brother relates a story of Caleb's dispute with Akenside about a bilious colic. Two more inflammable spirits seldom came together; Hardinge despising every physician except himself, and Akenside catching fire at a word. But, in his peacefuller hours, Hardinge was a delightful companion, often bringing "the Attic Muse" to his fireside. See Nichols' Lit. Anec., viii. 523, and Illustrations of the Eighteenth Century, iii. 4.-W.

2 Aquarius.

3 The allusion is to Charles the First.

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