of the undiscerning million; for all praise is valuable in
proportion to the judgment of those who confer it.

As the subject of this ode is uncommon, so are the style and expression
highly metaphorical and abstracted: thus the sun is called "the
rich-hair'd youth of morn," the ideas are termed "the shadowy tribes of
mind," &c. We are struck with the propriety of this mode of expression
here, and it affords us new proofs of the analogy that subsists between
language and sentiment.

Nothing can be more loftily imagined than the creation of the cestus of
Fancy in this ode: the allegorical imagery is rich and sublime: and the
observation, that the dangerous passions kept aloof during the
operation, is founded on the strictest philosophical truth: for poetical
fancy can exist only in minds that are perfectly serene, and in some
measure abstracted from the influences of sense.

The scene of Milton's "inspiring hour" is perfectly in character, and
described with all those wild-wood appearances of which the great poet
was so enthusiastically fond:

  "I view that oak, the fancied glades among,
  By which as Milton lay, his evening ear,
  Nigh sphered in heaven, its native strains could hear."




ODE,

WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1746.


ODE TO MERCY.


The Ode written in 1746, and the Ode to Mercy, seem to have been written
on the same occasion, viz. the late rebellion; the former in memory of
those heroes who fell in defence of their country, the latter to excite
sentiments of compassion in favour of those unhappy and deluded wretches
who became a sacrifice to public justice.

The language and imagery of both are very beautiful; but the scene and
figures described, in the strophe of the Ode to Mercy, are exquisitely
striking, and would afford a painter one of the finest subjects in the
world.




ODE TO LIBERTY.


The ancient states of Greece, perhaps the only ones in which a perfect
model of liberty ever existed, are naturally brought to view in the
opening of the poem:

  "Who shall awake the Spartan fife,
  And call in solemn sounds to life,
  The youths, whose locks divinely spreading,
  Like vernal hyacinths in sullen hue."

There is something extremely bold in this imagery of the locks of the
Spartan youths, and greatly superior to that description Jocasta gives
us of the hair of Polynices:

  О’ОїПѓП„ПЃП…П‡П‰ОЅ П„Оµ ОєП…О±ОЅОїП‡ПЃП‰П„О± П‡О±О№П„О±П‚
  Πλοκαμον––––

  ~BostrychГґn te kyanochrГґta chaitas
  Plokamon------~

  "What new Alcæus, fancy-blest,
  Shall sing the sword, in myrtles drest," &c.

This alludes to a fragment of Alcæus still remaining, in which the poet
celebrates Harmodius and Aristogiton, who slew the tyrant Hipparchus,
and thereby restored the liberty of Athens.

The fall of Rome is here most nervously described in one line

  "With heaviest sound, a giant statue, fell."

The thought seems altogether new, and the imitative harmony in the
structure of the verse is admirable.

After bewailing the ruin of ancient liberty, the poet considers the
influence it has retained, or still retains, among the moderns; and here
the free republics of Italy naturally engage his attention.--Florence,
indeed, only to be lamented on account of losing its liberty under those
patrons of letters, the Medicean family; the jealous Pisa, justly so
called, in respect to its long impatience and regret under the same
yoke; and the small Marino, which, however unrespectable with regard to
power or extent of territory, has, at least, this distinction to boast,
that it has preserved its liberty longer than any other state, ancient
or modern, having, without any revolution, retained its present mode of
government near fourteen hundred years. Moreover the patron saint who
founded it, and from whom it takes its name, deserves this poetical
record, as he is, perhaps, the only saint that ever contributed to the
establishment of freedom.

  "Nor e'er her former pride relate
  To sad Liguria's bleeding state."

In these lines the poet alludes to those ravages in the state of Genoa,
occasioned by the unhappy divisions of the Guelphs and Gibelines.

  "----When the favour'd of thy choice,
  The daring archer heard thy voice."

For an account of the celebrated event referred to in these verses, see
Voltaire's Epistle to the King of Prussia.

  "Those whom the rod of Alva bruised,
  Whose crown a British queen refused!"

The Flemings were so dreadfully oppressed by this sanguinary general of
Philip the Second, that they offered their sovereignty to Elizabeth;
but, happily for her subjects, she had policy and magnanimity enough to
refuse it. Desormeaux, in his AbrГ©gГ© Chronologique de l'Histoire
d'Espagne, thus describes the sufferings of the Flemings: "Le duc d'Albe
achevoit de rГ©duire les Flamands au dГ©sespoir. AprГЁs avoir inondГ© les
Г©chafauds du sang le plus noble et le plus prГ©cieux, il faisoit
construire des citadelles en divers endroits, et vouloit Г©tablir
l'Alcavala, ce tribute onГ©reux qui avoit Г©tГ© longtems en usage parmi les
Espagnols."--_AbrГ©g. Chron. tom. iv._

              "------Mona,
  Where thousand elfin shapes abide."

Mona is properly the Roman name of the Isle of Anglesey, anciently so
famous for its Druids; but sometimes, as in this place, it is given to
the Isle of Man. Both these isles still retain much of the genius of
superstition, and are now the only places where there is the least
chance of finding a fairy.




ODE TO A LADY,

ON THE DEATH OF COLONEL ROSS, IN THE ACTION OF FONTENOY.


The iambic kind of numbers in which this ode is conceived seems as well
calculated for tender and plaintive subjects, as for those where
strength or rapidity is required.--This, perhaps, is owing to the
repetition of the strain in the same stanza; for sorrow rejects variety,
and affects a uniformity of complaint. It is needless to observe, that
this ode is replete with harmony, spirit, and pathos; and there surely
appears no reason why the seventh and eighth stanzas should be omitted
in that copy printed in Dodsley's Collection of Poems.




ODE TO EVENING.


The blank ode has for some time solicited admission into the English
poetry; but its efforts, hitherto, seem to have been in vain, at least
its reception has been no more than partial. It remains a question,
then, whether there is not something in the nature of blank verse less
adapted to the lyric than to the heroic measure, since, though it has
been generally received in the latter, it is yet unadopted in the
former. In order to discover this, we are to consider the different
modes of these different species of poetry. That of the heroic is
uniform; that of the lyric is various; and in these circumstances of
uniformity and variety probably lies the cause why blank verse has been
successful in the one, and unacceptable in the other. While it presented
itself only in one form, it was familiarized to the ear by custom; but
where it was obliged to assume the different shapes of the lyric muse,
it seemed still a stranger of uncouth figure, was received rather with
curiosity than pleasure, and entertained without that ease or
satisfaction which acquaintance and familiarity produce.--Moreover, the
heroic blank verse obtained a sanction of infinite importance to its
general reception, when it was adopted by one of the greatest poets the
world ever produced, and was made the vehicle of the noblest poem that
ever was written. When this poem at length extorted that applause which
ignorance and prejudice had united to withhold, the versification soon
found its imitators, and became more generally successful than even in
those countries from whence it was imported. But lyric blank verse had
met with no such advantages; for Mr. Collins, whose genius and judgment
in harmony might have given it so powerful an effect, has left us but
one specimen of it in the Ode to Evening.

In the choice of his measure he seems to have had in his eye Horace's
Ode to Pyrrha; for this ode bears the nearest resemblance to that mixed
kind of the asclepiad and pherecratic verse; and that resemblance in
some degree reconciles us to the want of rhyme, while it reminds us of
those great masters of antiquity, whose works had no need of this
whimsical jingle of sounds.

From the following passage one might be induced to think that the poet
had it in view to render his subject and his versification suitable to
each other on this occasion, and that, when he addressed himself to the
sober power of Evening, he had thought proper to lay aside the foppery
of rhyme:

    "Now teach me, maid composed,
    To breathe some soften'd strain,
  Whose numbers, stealing through thy darkening vale,
  May not unseemly with its stillness suit,
    As, musing slow, I hail
    Thy genial loved return!"

But whatever were the numbers or the versification of this ode,
the imagery and enthusiasm it contains could not fail of rendering
it delightful. No other of Mr. Collins's odes is more generally
characteristic of his genius. In one place we discover his passion
for visionary beings:

  "For when thy folding-star arising shows
  His paly circlet, at his warning lamp
    The fragrant Hours, and Elves
    Who slept in buds the day,

  And many a Nymph who wreathes her brows with sedge,
  And sheds the freshening dew, and, lovelier still,
    The pensive Pleasures sweet,
    Prepare thy shadowy car."

In another we behold his strong bias to melancholy:

  "Then let me rove some wild and heathy scene,
  Or find some ruin 'midst its dreary dells,
    Whose walls more awful nod
    By thy religious gleams."

Then appears his taste for what is wildly grand and magnificent in
nature; when, prevented by storms from enjoying his evening walk, he
wishes for a situation,

  "That from the mountain's side
  Views wilds and swelling floods;"

And through the whole, his invariable attachment to the expression of
painting:

  "----and marks o'er all
  Thy dewy fingers draw
  The gradual dusky veil."

It might be a sufficient encomium on this beautiful ode to observe, that
it has been particularly admired by a lady to whom nature has given the
most perfect principles of taste. She has not even complained of the
want of rhyme in it; a circumstance by no means unfavourable to the
cause of lyric blank verse; for surely, if a fair reader can endure an
ode without bells and chimes, the masculine genius may dispense with
them.




THE MANNERS.

AN ODE.


From the subject and sentiments of this ode, it seems not improbable
that the author wrote it about the time when he left the university;
when, weary with the pursuit of academical studies, he no longer
confined himself to the search of theoretical knowledge, but commenced
the scholar of humanity, to study nature in her works, and man in
society.

The following farewell to Science exhibits a very just as well as
striking picture: for however exalted in theory the Platonic doctrines
may appear, it is certain that Platonism and Pyrrhonism are nearly
allied:

  "Farewell the porch, whose roof is seen,
  Arch'd with the enlivening olive's green:
  Where Science, prank'd in tissued vest,
  By Reason, Pride, and Fancy drest,
  Comes like a bride, so trim array'd,
  To wed with Doubt in Plato's shade!"

When the mind goes in pursuit of visionary systems, it is not far
from the regions of doubt; and the greater its capacity to think
abstractedly, to reason and refine, the more it will be exposed to,
and bewildered in, uncertainty.--From an enthusiastic warmth of
temper, indeed, we may for a while be encouraged to persist in some
favourite doctrine, or to adhere to some adopted system; but when that
enthusiasm, which is founded on the vivacity of the passions,
gradually cools and dies away with them, the opinions it supported
drop from us, and we are thrown upon the inhospitable shore of
doubt.--A striking proof of the necessity of some moral rule of wisdom
and virtue, and some system of happiness established by unerring
knowledge, and unlimited power.

In the poet's address to Humour in this ode there is one image of
singular beauty and propriety. The ornaments in the hair of Wit are of
such a nature, and disposed in such a manner, as to be perfectly
symbolical and characteristic:

  "Me too amidst thy band admit,
  There where the young-eyed healthful Wit,
  (Whose jewels in his crisped hair
  Are placed each other's beams to share,
  Whom no delights from thee divide)
  In laughter loosed, attends thy side."

Nothing could be more expressive of wit, which consists in a happy
collision of comparative and relative images, than this reciprocal
reflection of light from the disposition of the jewels.

  "O Humour, thou whose name is known
  To Britain's favour'd isle alone."

The author could only mean to apply this to the time when he wrote,
since other nations had produced works of great humour, as he himself
acknowledges afterwards.

  "By old Miletus," &c.
  "By all you taught the Tuscan maids," &c.

The Milesian and Tuscan romances