| William Stanley Braithwaite, ed. The Book of Georgian Verse. 1909. | | | | Ode to Simplicity | | By William Collins (17211759) |
| | | O THOU, by Nature taught, | |
| To breathe her genuine thought, | |
| In numbers warmly pure and sweetly strong; | |
| Who first, on mountains wild, | |
| In Fancy, loveliest child, | 5 |
| Thy babe, or Pleasures, nursed the powers of song! | |
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| Thou, who with hermit heart, | |
| Disdainst the wealth of art, | |
| And gauds, and pageant weeds, and trailing pall; | |
| But comst a decent maid, | 10 |
| In Attic robe arrayd, | |
| O chaste, unboastful Nymph, to thee I call! | |
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| By all the honeyd store | |
| On Hyblas 1 thymy shore, | |
| By all her blooms and mingled murmurs dear, | 15 |
| By her whose love-lorn woe, | |
| In evening musings slow, | |
| Soothed sweetly sad Electras poets ear. | |
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| By old Cephisus deep, 2 | |
| Who spread his wavy sweep | 20 |
| In warbled wandrings round thy green retreat; | |
| On whose enamelld side, | |
| When holy Freedom died, | |
| No equal haunt allured thy future feet! | |
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| O sister meek of Truth, | 25 |
| To my admiring youth | |
| Thy sober aid and native charms infuse! | |
| The flowrs that sweetest breathe, | |
| Though beauty culld the wreath, | |
| Still ask thy hand to range their orderd hues. | 30 |
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| While Rome could none esteem, | |
| But virtues patriot theme, | |
| You loved her hills, and led her laureate band; | |
| But stayd to sing alone | |
| To one distinguishd throne, 3 | 35 |
| And turned thy face, and fled her alterd land. | |
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| No more, in hall or bowr, | |
| The passions own thy powr. | |
| Love, only Love, her forceless numbers mean; | |
| For thou hast left her shrine, | 40 |
| Nor olive more, nor vine, | |
| Shall gain thy feet to bless the servile scene. | |
| |
| Though taste, though genius bless | |
| To some divine excess, | |
| Faints the cold work till thou inspire the whole; | 45 |
| What each, what all supply, | |
| May court, may charm our eye, | |
| Thou, only thou, canst raise the meeting soul! | |
| |
| Of these let others ask, | |
| To aid some mighty task, | 50 |
| I only seek to find thy temperate vale; | |
| Where oft my reed might sound, | |
| To maids and shepherds round, | |
| And all thy sons, O Nature, learn my tale. | |
| | | Note 1. Hybla, a city of Sicily, famed for the honey produced in the country adjacent. [back] | | Note 2. Cephisus deep: the largest river in Attica, near which Athens was situated. [back] | | Note 3. One distinguished throne: that of Augustus, the patron of Virgil and Horace. [back] | | |
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