 | The poems (1969) |  |
SECOND EPODE
Then too, 'tis said, an hoary pile
Midst the green navel of our isle,
Thy shrine in some religious wood,
O soul-enforcing goddess stood!
There oft the painted native's feet
Were wont thy form celestial meet:
Though now with hopeless toil we trace
Time's backward rolls to find its place;
Whether the fiery-tressed Dane,
Or Roman's self o'erturned the fane,
Or in what heaven-left age it fell,
'Twere hard for modern song to tell.
Yet still, if truth those beams infuse,
Which guide at once and charm the muse,
Beyond yon braided clouds that lie
Paving the light-embroidered sky,
Amidst the bright pavilioned plains,
The beauteous model still remains.
There happier than in islands blest
Or bowers by spring or Hebe dressed,
The chiefs who fill our Albion's story,
In warlike weeds, retired in glory,
Hear their consorted Druids sing
Their triumphs to the immortal string.
Midst the green navel of our isle,
Thy shrine in some religious wood,
O soul-enforcing goddess stood!
There oft the painted native's feet
Were wont thy form celestial meet:
Though now with hopeless toil we trace
Time's backward rolls to find its place;
Whether the fiery-tressed Dane,
Or Roman's self o'erturned the fane,
Or in what heaven-left age it fell,
452
Yet still, if truth those beams infuse,
Which guide at once and charm the muse,
Beyond yon braided clouds that lie
Paving the light-embroidered sky,
Amidst the bright pavilioned plains,
The beauteous model still remains.
There happier than in islands blest
Or bowers by spring or Hebe dressed,
The chiefs who fill our Albion's story,
In warlike weeds, retired in glory,
Hear their consorted Druids sing
Their triumphs to the immortal string.
How may the poet now unfold
What never tongue or numbers told?
How learn delighted and amazed,
What hands unknown that fabric raised?
Even now before his favoured eyes,
In Gothic pride it seems to rise!
Yet Græcia's graceful orders join
Majestic through the mixed design.
The secret builder knew to choose
Each sphere-found gem of richest hues;
Whate'er heaven's purer mould contains,
When nearer suns emblaze its veins;
There on the walls the patriot's sight
May ever hang with fresh delight,
And, graved with some prophetic rage,
Read Albion's fame through every age.
What never tongue or numbers told?
How learn delighted and amazed,
453
Even now before his favoured eyes,
In Gothic pride it seems to rise!
Yet Græcia's graceful orders join
Majestic through the mixed design.
The secret builder knew to choose
Each sphere-found gem of richest hues;
Whate'er heaven's purer mould contains,
When nearer suns emblaze its veins;
There on the walls the patriot's sight
May ever hang with fresh delight,
And, graved with some prophetic rage,
Read Albion's fame through every age.
Ye forms divine, ye laureate band,
That near her inmost altar stand!
Now soothe her, to her blissful train
Blithe Concord's social form to gain:
Concord, whose myrtle wand can steep
Even Anger's blood-shot eyes in sleep:
Before whose breathing bosom's balm
Rage drops his steel and storms grow calm;
Her let our sires and matrons hoar
Welcome to Britain's ravaged shore,
Our youths, enamoured of the fair,
Play with the tangles of her hair;
Till in one loud applauding sound,
The nations shout to her around:
‘O how supremely art thou blest,
Thou, lady, thou shalt rule the West!’
That near her inmost altar stand!
Now soothe her, to her blissful train
Blithe Concord's social form to gain:
Concord, whose myrtle wand can steep
454
Before whose breathing bosom's balm
Rage drops his steel and storms grow calm;
Her let our sires and matrons hoar
Welcome to Britain's ravaged shore,
Our youths, enamoured of the fair,
Play with the tangles of her hair;
Till in one loud applauding sound,
The nations shout to her around:
‘O how supremely art thou blest,
Thou, lady, thou shalt rule the West!’
| The poems (1969) | |