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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=454941" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Ode IX: To Curio</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I.<br>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?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">II. <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.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">III.<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. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">IV.<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. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">V.<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.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VI. <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.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VII.<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.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VIII. <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? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">IX.<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.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">X. <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. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">XI.<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? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">XII.<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. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">XIII.<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. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">XIV.<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.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XV.<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. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">XVI.<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>
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<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=454941" data-title="Ode IX: To Curio de Mark Akenside" data-description="I.
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 go..."></div>
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