10 ODE. 



As, sprung from Chaos rude, 

 Order its course pursued, 

 And out of elements in strife 



Beauty and grandeur by the spell of hands divine could flow. 

 'Tis thus the maid inspir'd could know 



The fountains, and the forms, 40 



Whence this great orb of wonders 

 In all its fabric so sublime 

 Its smiling lights, its clouded storms, 

 Its gentle sighs, its roaring thunders, 

 Its change of season, and of clime, 

 The beauty, in its living shapes that warms, 



Could know, as present at the sight, 

 When all the wondrous fabric issued into light ! 

 Then why should not this favour'd Muse divine 

 All secrets of our mortal state, 

 Interpret every hidden sign, 

 Resolve the knot of each perplex'd debate, 



And where she darts her rays, disperse 

 The clouds that human folly breeds, 

 The glory of our thoughts rehearse, 



And paint our airy hopes, and sing our worthiest deeds ? 

 But in the climes of heaven, in air 

 Empyreal who is wont to dwell, 

 Too oft with pain alone can bear 



The rude, or vapoury atmosphere, 60 



That tuneless makes her shell ! 

 A mortal shape she takes, 

 And mortal passions in her bosom wakes ; 



And in a nymph-like form 

 She comes, the gaze and love of men to warm : 



But sad and sullen droops 

 Her spirit at the breath of Vice, 

 And, mid tumultuous human groups, 

 Her loftiness to guard her wings from wrong can ill suffice. 



She has ubiquity, 70 



And wide as is the world, 

 The drops that to her burning vase 



Her magic can supply, 

 Are by her mighty right hand hurl'd 

 O'er all the globe ; and by the laws 

 Of nature to the plastic brain 

 Of favoured beings, like the fertile rain, 

 To the creative earth bestow'd, 

 Till working, swelling, and expanding, 

 They the rich elemental treasure goad ; 80 



And by her irresistible commanding 

 Form into fabrics, on whose airy towers 

 The eye of rapt imagination pores. 



