Ode to Independency

Here, on my native shore reclin'd, While Silence rules this midnight hour, 2I woo thee, Goddess. On my musing mind 2Descend, propitious Power! And bid these ruffling gales of grief subside: Bid my calm'd soul with all thy influence shine; As yon chast Orb along this ample tide Draws the long lustre of her silver line, While the hush'd breeze its last weak whisper blows, And lulls old Humber to his deep repose.

2Come to thy Vot'ry's ardent prayer, 2In all thy graceful plainness drest; 2No knot confines thy waving hair, 2No zone thy floating vest. Unsullied Honor decks thine open brow, And Candor brightens in thy modest eye: Thy blush is warm Content's ætherial glow, Thy smile is Peace; thy step is Liberty: Thou scatter'st bleslings round with lavish hand, As Spring with careless fragrance fills the land.

2As now o'er this lone beach I stray; 2Thy fav'rite Swain oft stole along, 2And artless wove his Doric lay, 2Far from the busy throng. Thou heard'st him, Goddess, strike the tender string, And badst his soul with bolder passions move: Strait these responsive shores forgot to ring, With Beauty's praise, or plaint of slighted Love; To loftier flights his daring Genius rose, And led the war, 'gainst thine, and Freedom's foes.

2Pointed with Satire's keenest steel, 2The shafts of Wit he darts around; 2Ev'n mitred Dulness learns to feel, 2And shrinks beneath the wound. In awful poverty his honest Muse Walks forth vindictive thro' a venal land: In vain Corruption sheds her golden dews, In vain Oppression lifts her iron hand; He scorns them both, and, arm'd with truth alone, Bids Lust and Folly tremble on the throne.

2Behold, like him, immortal Maid, 2The Muses vestal fires I bring: 2Here at thy feet the sparks I spread; 2Propitious wave thy wing, And fan them to that dazzling blaze of Song, That glares tremendous on the Sons of Pride. But, hark, methinks I hear her hallow'd tongue! In distant trills it ecchoes o'er the tide; Now meets mine ear with warbles wildly free, As swells the Lark's meridian ecstacy.

2"Fond Youth! to Marvell's patriot fame, 2"Thy humble breast must ne'er aspire. 2"Yet nourish still the lambent flame; 2"Still strike thy blameless Lyre 2"Led by the moral Muse securely rove; 2"And all the vernal sweets thy vacant Youth "Can cull from busy Fancy's fairy grove, "O hang their foliage round the fane of Truth: "To arts like these devote thy tuneful toil, "And meet its fair reward in D'arcy's smile."

2Tis he, my Son, alone shall chear 2"Thy sickning soul; at that sad hour, 2"When o'er a much-lov'd Parent's bier, 2"Thy duteous Sorrows shower: "At that sad hour, when all thy hopes decline; "When pining Care leads on her pallid train, "And sees thee, like the weak, and widow'd Vine, "Winding thy blasted tendrills o'er the plain. "At that sad hour shall D'arcy lend his aid, "And raise with Friendship's arm thy drooping head.

2"This fragrant wreath, the Muses meed, 2"That bloom'd those vocal shades among, 2"Where never Flatt'ry dar'd to tread, 2"Or Interest's servile throng; "Receive, my favor'd Son, at my command, "And keep, with sacred care, for D'arcy's brow: "Tell him, 'twas wove by my immortal hand, " on every flower a purer glow; "Say, for thy sake, I send the gift divine "To him, who calls thee his yet makes thee mine."