<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=454939" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Ode IX. To Curio</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thrice hath the spring beheld thy faded fame <br> Since I exulting grasp'd the tuneful shell: <br> Eager through endless years to sound thy name, <br> Proud that my memory with thine should dwell. <br> How hast thou stain'd the splendor of my choice! <br> Those godlike forms which hover'd round thy voice, <br> Laws, freedom, glory, whither are they flown? <br> What can I now of thee to time report, <br> Save thy fond country made thy impious sport, <br>Her fortune and her hope the victims of thy own? <br> There are with eyes unmov'd and reckless heart <br> Who saw thee from thy summit fall thus low, <br> Who deem'd thy arm extended but to dart <br> The public vengeance on thy private foe. <br> But, spite of every gloss of envious minds, <br> The owl-ey'd race whom Virtue's lustre blinds, <br> Who sagely prove that each man hath his price, <br> I still believ'd thy aim from blemish free, <br> I yet, even yet, believe it, spite of thee <br>And all thy painted pleas to greatness and to vice. <br> ``Thou didst not dream of Liberty decay'd, <br> Nor wish to make her guardian laws more strong: <br> But the rash many, first by thee misled, <br> Bore thee at length unwillingly along.'' <br> Rise from your sad abodes, ye curst of old, <br> For faith deserted or for cities sold, <br> Own here one untry'd, unexampled, deed; <br> One mystery of shame from Curio, learn, <br> To beg the infamy he did not earn, <br>And scape in Guilt's disguise from Virtue's offer'd meed. <br> For saw we not that dangerous power avow'd <br> Whom freedom oft hath found her mortal bane, <br> Whom public Wisdom ever strove to exclude, <br> And but with blushes suffereth in her train? <br> Corruption vaunted her bewitching spoils, <br> O'er court, o'er senate, spread in pomp her toils, <br> And call'd herself the states directing soul: <br> Till Curio, like a good magician, try'd <br> With Eloquence and Reason at his side, <br>By strength of holier spells the inchantress to control. <br> Soon with thy country's hope thy fame extends; <br> The rescued merchant oft thy words resounds: <br> Thee and thy cause the rural hearth defends; <br> His bowl to thee the grateful sailor crowns: <br> The learn'd recluse, with awful zeal who read <br> Of Grecian heroes, Roman patriots dead, <br> Now with like awe doth living merit scan: <br> While he, whom virtue in his blest retreat <br> Bade social ease and public passions meet, <br>Ascends the civil scene, and knows to be a man. <br> At length in view the glorious end appear'd: <br> We saw thy spirit through the senate reign; <br> And Freedom's friends thy instant omen heard <br> Of laws for which their fathers bled in vain. <br> Wak'd in the strife the public Genius rose <br> More keen, more ardent from his long repose: <br> Deep through her bounds the city felt his call: <br> Each crowded haunt was stirr'd beneath his power, <br> And murmuring challeng'd the deciding hour <br>Of that too vast event, the hope and dread of all. <br> O, ye good powers! who look on human kind, <br> Instruct the mighty moments as they roll; <br> And watch the fleeting shapes in Curio's mind, <br> And steer his passions steady to the goal. <br> O Alfred, father of the English name, <br> O valiant Edward, first in civil fame, <br> O William, height of public virtue pure, <br> Bend from your radiant seats a joyful eye <br> Behold the sum of all your labours nigh, <br>Your plans of law complete, your ends of rule secure. <br> 'Twas then -- O shame! O soul from faith estrang'd! <br> O Albion, oft to flattering vows a prey! <br> 'Twas then -- Thy thought what sudden frenzy chang'd? <br> What rushing palsy took thy strength away? <br> Is this the man in Freedom's cause approv'd? <br> The man so great, so honour'd, so belov'd? <br> Whom the dead envy'd, and the living bless'd? <br> This patient slave by tinsel bonds allur'd? <br> This wretched suitor for a boon abjur'd? <br>Whom those that fear'd him, scorn; that trusted him, detest? <br> O lost alike to action and repose! <br> With all that habit of familiar fame, <br> Sold to the mockery of relentless foes, <br> And doom'd to exhaust the dregs of life in shame, <br> To act with burning brow and throbbing heart <br> A poor deserter's dull exploded part, <br> To slight the favour thou canst hope no more, <br> Renounce the giddy crowd, the vulgar wind, <br> Charge thy own lightness on thy country's mind, <br>And from her voice appeal to each tame foreign shore. <br> But England's sons, to purchase thence applause, <br> Shall ne'er the loyalty of slaves pretend, <br> By courtly passions try the public cause; <br> Nor to the forms of rule betray the end. <br> O race erect! by manliest passions mov'd, <br> The labours which to virtue stand approv'd, <br> Prompt with a lover's fondness to survey; <br> Yet, where Injustice works her wilful claim, <br> Fierce as the flight of Jove's destroying flame, <br>Impatient to confront, and dreadful to repay. <br> These thy heart owns no longer. In their room <br> See the grave queen of pageants, Honour, dwell <br> Couch'd in thy bosom's deep tempestuous gloom <br> Like some grim idol in a sorcerer's cell. <br> Before her rites thy sickening reason flew, <br> Divine Persuasion from thy tongue withdrew, <br> While Laughter mock'd, or Pity stole a sigh: <br> Can Wit her tender movements rightly frame <br> Where the prime function of the soul is lame? <br>Can Fancy's feeble springs the force of Truth supply? <br> But come: 'tis time: strong Destiny impends <br> To shut thee from the joys thou hast betray'd: <br> With princes fill'd, the solemn fane ascends, <br> By Infamy, the mindful demon sway'd. <br> There vengeful vows for guardian laws effac'd, <br> From nations fetter'd, and from towns laid waste, <br> For ever through the spacious courts resound: <br> There long posterity's united groan, <br> And the sad charge of horrours not their own, <br>Assail the giant chiefs, and press them to the ground. <br> In sight old Time, imperious judge, awaits: <br> Above revenge, or fear, or pity, just, <br> He urgeth onward to those guilty gates <br> The great, the sage, the happy, and august. <br> And still he asks them of the hidden plan <br> Whence every treaty, every war began, <br> Evolves their secrets, and their guilt proclaims: <br> And still his hands despoil them on the road <br> Of each vain wreath by lying bards bestow'd, <br>And crush their trophies huge, and rase their sculptur'd names. <br> Ye mighty shades, arise, give place, attend: <br> Here his eternal mansion Curio seeks: <br> -- Low doth proud Wentworth to the stranger bend, <br> And his dire welcome hardy Clifford speaks: <br> ``He comes, whom Fate with surer arts prepar'd <br> To accomplish all which we but vainly dar'd; <br> Whom o'er the stubborn herd she taught to reign: <br> Who sooth'd with gaudy dreams their raging power, <br> Even to it's last irrevocable hour; <br>Then baffled their rude strength, and broke them to the chain.'' <br> But ye, whom yet wise Liberty inspires, <br> Whom for her champions o'er the world she claims, <br> (That household godhead whom of old your sires <br> Sought in the woods of Elbe, and bore to Thames) <br> Drive ye this hostile omen far away; <br> Their own fell efforts on her foes repay; <br>Your wealth, your arts, your fame, be her's alone: <br> Still gird your swords to combat on her side; <br> Still frame your laws her generous test to abide; <br>And win to her defence the altar and the throne. <br> Protect her from yourselves, ere yet the flood <br> Of golden luxury, which Commerce pours, <br> Hath spread that selfish fierceness through your blood, <br> Which not her lightest discipline endures: <br> Snatch from fantastic demagogues her cause: <br> Dream not of Numa's manners, Plato's laws: <br> A wiser founder, and a nobler plan, <br> O sons of Alfred, were for you assign'd: <br> Bring to that birthright but an equal mind, <br>And no sublimer lot will Fate reserve for man.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Mark+Akenside">Mark Akenside</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=454939" data-title="Ode IX. To Curio de Mark Akenside" data-description="Thrice hath the spring beheld thy faded fame Since I exulting grasp'd the tuneful shell: Eager through endless years to sound thy name, Proud that my memory with thine should dwell. How hast thou stain'd the splendor of my choice! Those ..."></div> </div> </div>

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