William Collins(1721–1759)
Ode on the Poetical Character
Strophe2
As once, if not with light regard,
I read aright that gifted bard
(Him w h o s e school above the rest
His loveliest Elfin Q u e e n has blest).3
O n e , only one, unrivaled fair,
Might hope the magic girdle4 wear,
At solemn tourney 0 hung on high,tournament
The wish of each love-darting eye;
Lo! to e a c h other nymph in turn applied,
As if, in air unseen, some hovering hand,
S o m e chaste and angel-friend to virgin-fame,
W i t h whispered spell had burst the starting band,
It left unblest her loathed dishonored side;
Happier, hopeless fair, if never
Her baffled hand with vain endeavor
Had t o u c h e d that fatal zone to her denied!
Young Fancy thus, to me divinest name,
To w h o m , prepared and bathed in H e a v e n
T h e cest of amplest power is given;
To f e w the godlike gift assigns,
To gird their blest, prophetic loins,
And gaze her visions wild, and feel unmixed her flame!
E-pode
The band, as fairy legends say,
W a s wove on that creating day,
W h e n He, w h o called with thought to birth
Yon tented sky, this laughing earth,
And dressed with springs, and forests tall,
And poured the main 0 engirting all,sea
Long by the loved Enthusiast5 wooed,
Himself in some diviner mood,
Retiring, sate with her alone,
And placed her on his sapphire throne;
T h e whiles, the vaulted shrine around,
Seraphic 0 wires were heard to sound,angelic
Now sublimest triumph 0 swelling,trumpet
N o w on love and mercy dwelling;
And she, from out the veiling cloud,
Breathed her magic notes aloud:
And thou, thou rich-haired Youth of Morn,6
And all thy subject life was born!
The dangerous Passions kept aloof,
Far from the sainted growing woof;7
But near it sate ecstatic Wonder,
Listening the deep applauding thunder;
And Truth, in sunny vest arrayed,
By whose the tarsel's 0 eyes were made;male falcon's
All the shadowy tribes of Mind,
In braided dance their murmurs joined,
And all the bright uncounted Powers
W h o feed on Heaven's ambrosial flowers.
Where is the bard, whose soul can now
Its high presuming hopes avow
Where he who thinks, with rapture blind,
This hallow'd work for him designed
Antistrophe
High on some cliff, to Heaven up-piled,
Of rude access, of prospect wild,
Where, tangled round the jealous steep,
Strange shades o'erbrow the valleys deep,
And holy Genii 0 guard the rock,guardian spirits
Its glooms embrown, its springs unlock,
While on its rich ambitious head,
An Eden, like his own, lies spread;Milton's
I view that oak, the fancied glades among,
By which as Milton lay, his evening ear,
From many a cloud that dropped ethereal dew,
Nigh sphered in Heaven its native strains could hear;
On which that ancient trump8 he reached was hung;
Thither oft, his glory greeting,
From Waller's9 myrtle shades retreating,
With many a vow from Hope's aspiring tongue,
My trembling feet his guiding steps pursue;
In vain—such bliss to one alone,
Of all the sons of soul was known,
And Heaven, and Fancy, kindred powers,
Have now o'erturned the inspiring bowers,1
Or curtained close such scene from every future view.