ODE
To
the
Right
Honourable
FRANCIS
Earl
of
HUNTINGDON
.
MDCCXLVII
.
By
the
Same
.
I.
1.
THE
wife
and
great
of
every
clime
,
Through
all
thy
spacious
walks
of
Time
,
Where'er
the
Muse
her
power
display'd
,
With
joy
have
listen'd
and
obey'd
.
For
,
taught
of
heaven
,
the
sacred
Nine
Persuasive
numbers
,
forms
divine
,
To
mortal
sense
impart
:
They
best
the
soul
with
glory
fire
;
They
noblest
counsels
,
boldest
deeds
inspire
;
And
high
o'er
Fortune's
rage
inthrone
the
fixed
heart
.
I.
2.
Nor
less
prevailing
is
their
charm
The
vengeful
bosom
to
disarm
;
To
melt
the
proud
with
human
woe
,
And
prompt
unwilling
tears
to
flow
.
Can
wealth
a
power
like
this
afford
?
Can
Cromwell's
arts
,
or
Marlborough's
sword
,
An
equal
empire
claim
?
No
,
HASTINGS
.
Thou
my
words
wilt
own
:
Thy
breast
the
gifts
of
every
Muse
hath
known
;
Nor
shall
the
giver's
love
disgrace
thy
noble
name
.
I.
3.
The
Muse's
awful
art
,
And
the
fair
function
of
the
poet's
tongue
,
Ne'er
shalt
thou
blush
to
honour
;
to
assert
From
all
that
scorned
vice
or
slavish
fear
hath
sung
.
Nor
shall
the
blandishment
of
Tuscan
strings
Warbling
at
will
in
pleasure's
myrtle
bower
;
Nor
shall
the
baser
notes
to
Celtic
kings
By
lying
minstrels
paid
in
evil
hour
,
Move
Thee
to
spurn
the
heavenly
Muse's
reign
.
A
different
strain
,
And
other
themes
From
her
prophetic
shades
and
hallow'd
streams
(
Thou
well
can'st
witness
)
meet
the
purged
ear
:
Such
,
as
when
Greece
to
her
immortal
shell
Rejoicing
listen'd
,
godlike
sounds
to
hear
;
To
hear
the
sweet
instructress
tell
(
While
men
and
heroes
throng'd
around
)
How
life
its
noblest
use
may
find
,
How
best
for
freedom
be
resign'd
;
And
how
,
by
glory
,
virtue
shall
be
crown'd
.
II
.
1.
Such
was
the
Homer
.
Chian
father's
strain
To
many
a
kind
domestic
train
,
Whose
pious
hearth
and
genial
bowl
Had
cheer'd
the
reverend
pilgrim's
soul
:
When
,
every
hospitable
rite
With
equal
bounty
to
requite
,
He
struck
his
magic
strings
;
And
pour'd
spontaneous
numbers
forth
,
And
seiz'd
their
ears
with
tales
of
ancient
worth
,
And
fill'd
their
musing
hearts
with
vast
heroic
things
.
II
.
2.
Now
oft
,
where
happy
spirits
dwell
,
Where
yet
he
tunes
his
charming
shell
,
Oft
near
him
,
with
applauding
hands
,
The
genius
of
his
country
stands
.
To
listening
gods
he
makes
him
known
,
That
man
divine
,
by
whom
were
sown
The
seeds
of
Graecian
fame
:
Who
first
the
race
with
freedom
fir'd
;
From
whom
Lycurgus
Sparta's
sons
inspir'd
;
From
whom
Plataean
palms
and
Cyprian
trophies
came
.
II
.
3.
O
noblest
,
happiest
age
!
When
Aristides
rul'd
,
and
Cimon
fought
;
When
all
the
generous
fruits
of
Homer's
page
Exulting
Pindar
saw
to
full
perfection
brought
.
O
Pindar
,
oft
shalt
thou
be
hail'd
of
me
:
Not
that
Apollo
fed
thee
from
his
shrine
;
Not
that
thy
lips
drank
sweetness
from
the
bee
;
Nor
yet
that
,
studious
of
thy
notes
divine
,
Pan
danc'd
their
measure
with
the
sylvan
throng
;
But
that
thy
song
Was
proud
to
unfold
What
thy
base
rulers
trembled
to
behold
;
Amid
corrupted
Thebes
was
proud
to
tell
The
deeds
of
Athens
and
the
Persian
shame
:
Hence
on
thy
head
their
impious
vengeance
fell
.
But
thou
,
O
faithful
to
thy
fame
,
The
Muse's
law
didst
rightly
know
;
That
who
would
animate
his
lays
,
And
other
minds
to
virtue
raise
,
Must
feel
his
own
with
all
her
spirit
glow
.
III
.
1.
Are
there
,
approv'd
of
later
times
,
Whose
verse
adorn'd
a
Octavius
Caesar
.
tyrant's
crimes
?
Who
saw
majestic
Rome
betray'd
,
And
lent
the
imperial
ruffian
aid
?
Alas
!
not
one
polluted
bard
,
No
,
not
the
strains
that
Mincius
heard
,
Or
Tibur's
hills
reply'd
,
Dare
to
the
Muse's
ear
aspire
;
Save
that
,
instructed
by
the
Graecian
lyre
,
With
freedom's
ancient
notes
their
shameful
task
they
hide
.
III
.
2.
Mark
,
how
the
dread
Pantheon
stands
,
Amid
the
domes
of
modern
hands
:
Amid
the
toys
of
idle
state
,
How
simply
,
how
severely
great
!
Then
turn
,
and
,
while
each
western
clime
Presents
her
tuneful
sons
to
Time
,
So
mark
thou
Milton's
name
;
And
add
,
"
Thus
differs
from
the
throng
"
The
spirit
which
inform'd
thy
aweful
song
,
"
Which
bade
thy
potent
voice
protect
thy
country's
fame
.
"
III
.
3.
Yet
hence
barbaric
zeal
His
memory
with
unholy
rage
pursues
;
While
from
these
arduous
cares
of
public
weal
She
bids
each
bard
begone
,
and
rest
him
with
his
Muse
.
O
fool
!
to
think
the
man
,
whose
ample
mind
Must
grasp
at
all
that
yonder
stars
survey
;
Must
join
the
noblest
form
of
every
kind
,
The
world's
most
perfect
image
to
display
,
Can
e'er
his
country's
majesty
behold
,
Unmov'd
or
cold
!
O
fool
!
to
deem
That
He
,
whose
thought
must
visit
every
theme
,
Whose
heart
must
every
strong
emotion
know
By
nature
planted
,
or
by
fortune
taught
;
That
He
,
if
haply
some
presumptuous
foe
,
With
false
ignoble
science
fraught
,
Shall
spurn
at
freedom's
faithful
band
;
That
He
,
their
dear
defence
will
shun
,
Or
hide
their
glories
from
the
sun
,
Or
deal
their
vengeance
with
a
woman's
hand
!
IV
.
1.
I
care
not
that
in
Arno's
plain
,
Or
on
the
sportive
banks
of
Seine
,
From
public
themes
the
Muse's
quire
Content
with
polish'd
ease
retire
.
Where
priests
the
studious
head
command
,
Where
tyrants
bow
the
warlike
hand
To
vile
ambition's
aim
,
Say
,
what
can
public
themes
afford
,
Save
venal
honours
to
an
hateful
lord
,
Reserv'd
for
angry
heaven
and
scorn'd
of
honest
fame
?
IV
.
2.
But
here
,
where
freedom's
equal
throne
To
all
her
valiant
sons
is
known
;
Where
all
are
conscious
of
her
cares
,
And
each
the
power
,
that
rules
him
,
shares
;
Here
let
the
bard
,
whose
daftard
tongue
Leaves
public
arguments
unsung
,
Bid
public
praise
farewell
:
Let
him
to
fitter
climes
remove
,
Far
from
the
heroe's
and
the
patriot's
love
,
And
lull
mysterious
monks
to
slumber
in
their
cell
.
IV
.
3.
O
HASTINGS
,
not
to
all
Can
ruling
heav'n
the
same
endowments
lend
:
Yet
still
doth
nature
to
her
offspring
call
,
That
to
one
general
weal
their
different
powers
they
bend
,
Unenvious
.
Thus
alone
,
though
strains
divine
Inform
the
bosom
of
the
Muse's
son
;
Though
with
new
honours
the
patrician's
line
Advance
from
age
to
age
;
yet
thus
alone
They
win
the
suffrage
of
impartial
fame
,
The
poet's
name
He
best
shall
prove
,
Whose
lays
the
soul
with
noblest
passions
move
.
But
thee
,
O
progeny
of
heroes
old
,
Thee
to
severer
toils
thy
fate
requires
:
The
fate
which
form'd
thee
in
a
chosen
mould
,
The
grateful
country
of
thy
sires
,
Thee
to
sublimer
paths
demand
;
Sublimer
than
thy
sires
could
trace
,
Or
thy
own
EDWARD
teach
his
race
,
Though
Gaul's
proud
genius
sank
beneath
his
hand
.
V.
1.
From
rich
domains
and
subject
farms
,
They
led
the
rustic
youth
to
arms
;
And
kings
their
stern
atchievements
fear'd
;
While
private
strife
their
banners
rear'd
.
But
loftier
scenes
to
thee
are
shown
,
Where
empire's
wide-establish'd
throne
No
private
master
fills
:
Where
,
long
foretold
,
The
People
reigns
:
Where
each
a
vassal's
humble
heart
disdains
;
And
judgeth
what
he
sees
;
and
,
as
he
judgeth
,
wills
.
V.
2.
Here
be
it
thine
to
calm
and
guide
The
swelling
democratic
tide
;
To
watch
the
state's
uncertain
frame
,
And
baffle
faction's
partial
aim
:
But
chiefly
,
with
determin'd
zeal
,
To
quell
that
servile
band
,
who
kneel
To
freedom's
banish'd
foes
;
That
monster
,
which
is
daily
found
Expert
and
bold
thy
country's
peace
to
wound
;
Yet
dreads
to
handle
arms
,
nor
manly
counsel
knows
.
V.
3.
'Tis
highest
heaven's
command
,
That
guilty
aims
should
sordid
paths
pursue
;
That
what
ensnares
the
heart
should
curb
the
hand
,
And
virtue's
worthless
foes
be
false
to
glory
too
.
But
look
on
freedom
.
see
,
through
every
age
,
What
labours
,
perils
,
griefs
,
hath
she
disdain'd
!
What
arms
,
what
regal
pride
,
what
priestly
rage
,
Have
her
dread
offspring
conquer'd
or
sustain'd
!
For
Albion
well
have
conquer'd
.
Let
the
strains
Of
happy
swains
,
Which
now
resound
Where
Scarsdale's
cliffs
the
swelling
pastures
bound
,
Bear
witness
.
there
,
oft
let
the
farmer
hail
The
sacred
orchard
which
imbowers
his
gate
,
And
shew
to
strangers
passing
down
the
vale
,
Where
Candish
,
Booth
,
and
Osborne
fate
;
When
bursting
from
their
country's
chain
,
Even
in
the
midst
of
deadly
harms
,
Of
papal
snares
and
lawless
arms
,
They
plann'd
for
freedom
this
her
aweful
reign
.
VI
.
1.
This
reign
,
these
laws
,
this
public
care
,
Which
Nassau
gave
us
all
to
share
,
Had
ne'er
adorn'd
the
English
name
,
Could
fear
have
silenc'd
freedom's
claim
.
But
fear
in
vain
attempts
to
bind
Those
lofty
efforts
of
the
mind
Which
social
good
inspires
;
Where
men
,
for
this
,
assault
a
throne
,
Each
adds
the
common
welfare
to
his
own
;
And
each
unconquer'd
heart
the
strength
of
all
acquires
.
VI
.
2.
Say
,
was
it
thus
,
when
late
we
view'd
Our
fields
in
civil
blood
imbrued
?
When
fortune
crown'd
the
barbarous
host
,
And
half
the
astonish'd
isle
was
lost
?
Did
one
of
all
that
vaunting
train
,
Who
dare
affront
a
peaceful
reign
,
Durst
one
in
arms
appear
?
Durst
one
in
counsels
pledge
his
life
?
Stake
his
luxurious
fortunes
in
the
strife
?
Or
lend
his
boasted
name
his
vagrant
friends
to
cheer
?
VI
.
3.
Yet
,
HASTINGS
,
these
are
they
,
Who
challenge
to
themselves
thy
country's
love
:
The
true
;
the
constant
:
who
alone
can
weigh
,
What
glory
should
demand
,
or
Liberty
approve
!
But
let
their
works
declare
them
.
Thy
free
powers
,
The
generous
powers
of
thy
prevailing
mind
,
Not
for
the
tasks
of
their
confederate
hours
,
Lewd
brawls
and
lurking
slander
,
were
design'd
.
Be
thou
thy
own
approver
.
Honest
praise
Oft
nobly
sways
Ingenuous
youth
:
But
,
sought
from
cowards
and
the
lying
mouth
,
Praise
is
reproach
.
Eternal
GOD
alone
For
mortals
fixeth
that
sublime
award
.
He
,
from
the
faithful
records
of
his
throne
,
Bids
the
historian
and
the
bard
Dispose
of
honour
and
of
scorn
;
Discern
the
patriot
from
the
slave
;
And
write
the
good
,
the
wise
,
the
brave
,
For
lessons
to
the
multitude
unborn
.