ODE ΤΟ GEORGIANA, DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE, On the 24th Stanza in her "Pussage over Mount Gothard." "And hail the Chapel! hail the Platform wild! With well strung arm, that first preserv'd his Child, SPLENDOR'S fondly fostered child! Beneath the shaft of Tell? O Lady, nurs'd in pomp and pleasure! Whence learnt that heroic measure? Light as a dream your days their circlets ran, From all that teaches Brotherhood to Man Far, far removed! from want, from hope, from fear! Emblazonments and old ancestral crests, Were your's unearn'd by toil; nor could you see And yet, free Nature's uncorrupted child, You hail'd the Chapel and the Platform wild, Beneath the shaft of Tell! O Lady, nurs'd in pomp and pleasure! There crowd your finely-fibred frame, All living faculties of bliss: And Genius to your cradle came, His forehead wreath'd with lambent flame, And bending low, with godlike kiss Breath'd in a more celestial life! But boasts not many a fair compeer A heart as sensitive to joy and fear? And some, perchance, might wage an equal strife, Yet these delight to celebrate Tales of rustic happiness e; Pernicious Tales! insidious Strains! That steel the rich man's breast, And mock the lot unblest, The sordid vices and the abject pains, The doom of Ignorance and Penury! Beneath the shaft of Tell! O Lady, nurs'd in pomp and pleasure! -You were a Mother! That most holy name, I may not vilely prostitute to those Whose Infants owe them less 1 Than the poor Caterpillar owes Its gaudy Parent Fly. You were a Mother! at your bosom fed The Babes that lov'd you. You, with laughing eye, Each twilight-thought, each nascent feeling read, Which you yourself created. Oh! delight! A second time to be a Mother, Without the Mother's bitter groans: Another thought, and yet another, By touch, or taste, by looks or tones O'er the growing Sense to roll, The Mother of your Infant's Soul! The Angel of the Earth, who, while he guides All trembling gazes on the Eye of God, A moment turn'd his awful face away; And as he view'd you, from his aspect sweet New influences in your being rose, Blest Intuitions and Communions fleet With living Nature, in her joys and woes! The shrine of social Liberty! O beautiful! O Nature's child! "Twas thence you hail'd the Platform wild, |