ODE XV.

1 Meek Honour, female shame, Oh! whither, sweetest offspring of the sky, From Albion dost thou fly, Of Albion's daughters once the favourite fame? O beauty's only friend, Who giv'st her pleasing reverence to inspire; Who selfish, bold desire Dost to esteem and dear affection turn; Alas, of thee forlorn What joy, what praise, what hope can life pretend?

2 Behold, our youths in vain Concerning nuptial happiness inquire: Our maids no more aspire The arts of bashful Hymen to attain; But with triumphant eyes And cheeks impassive, as they move along, Ask homage of the throng. The lover swears that in a harlot's arms Are found the self-same charms, And worthless and deserted lives and dies.

3 Behold, unbless'd at home, The father of the cheerless household mourns: The night in vain returns, For Love and glad Content at distance roam; While she, in whom his mind Seeks refuge from the day's dull task of cares, To meet him she prepares, Through noise and spleen and all the gamester's art, A listless, harass'd heart, Where not one tender thought can welcome find.

4 'Twas thus, along the shore Of Thames, Britannia's guardian Genius heard, From many a tongue preferr'd, Of strife and grief the fond invective lore: At which the queen divine Indignant, with her adamantine spear Like thunder sounding near, Smote the red cross upon her silver shield, And thus her wrath reveal'd; (I watch'd her awful words, and made them mine.)