556 THE IIBIICONIAD. 



Far be from thee and thine bombastic vows. 



Mining shal! tremble where a Campbell bows j 



Thy hand must raise on high the fatal bowl. 



And charm-fraught dagger in unlink'd control; 



Thy breast, if bare enough, requires no arm 



To shield its spirit from abuse or harm ; 



Alone, impregnable to all assaults, 



Thou bravest censure and condemnest faults. 



Hail, tragic nymph ! to whom the suckling bard 



Has lowly bowed in tremulous regard ; 



His night devotes, within the garret scant. 



The hungry poet, in unwholesome rant. 



And, thirsting to express grand passion, scarre 



Has rls'n above the ebb of mimic farce 



In Britain's Isle, to rival Shakspeare's fame. 



One thousand poets shape their shapeless aim ; 



Hail, moving Muse ! to whom the meanest flow'r 



Provides a theme for thy impassioned pow'r. 



To ponder 's admiration ; to admire. 



Supplies the mind with thought, the soul with fire 



Oh, for the art, the science, and the lore 



Which Garrick learned so well, or Shakspeare held of yore ! 



Clio. 

 Historic Clio ! whom the gods repay 

 With plectric sceptre, and with graphic bay. 

 Long be thy reign from sordid falsehood free. 

 While truth protects the page of history. 

 In some few qualities thy sisters like. 

 As Titian might be placed beside Vandyck : — 

 The crown to her belongs whose pen presides. 

 Obedient to the sternest of the Ides, 

 O'er noblest subjects, and through whose full veins. 

 Throbs the true chord that forms the chronic reins. 



Oh, History ! how much to thee we owe. 

 As times, and climes, and politics can show, 



Ere curs'd we were by joining hands with F , 



Or lent the weather-cock a kindred glance ! 

 Oh, History, how would thy page have curs'd 

 In ancient years these frogs by England nurs'd ! 

 Of nymphs the best — and last not least in worth 

 In that thy page hailed Gulielmas forth. 

 Nymph that prepares to paint the moving scene 

 That eloquent Calliope has seen, — 

 Nymph of the truth, what owe we not to thee, 

 Fair gua: dian spirit of life's pedigree ? 

 The Muses all were sprung from heav'nly blood. 

 The Graces by the throne of Venus stood : 

 Jove viewed the Muses, and the graceful trio. 

 And joined them all to form a mould for Clio ! 



Calliope. 

 But peace to her — her history and lute. 



Which, for it curses F , let none dispute. 



Back to my theme. Calliope, advance. 

 And cast on Albion a benignant glance ! 



Born on the mount, where Clio first drew breath, 

 Of Pindus high (which nations bow beneath). 



