Odes.
81
I.
For lawless power, reclaim'd to right, 91
And virtue rais'd by pious arms,
Let Albion be thy fair delight,
And shield her safe from threaten'd harms:
With flow'rs and fruit her bosom fill, 95
Let laurel rise on ev'ry hill
Fresh as the first on Daphne's brow:
Instruct her tuneful sons to sing,
And make each vale with pæans ring,
To Blenheim and Ramillia due. 100
For lawless power, reclaim'd to right, 91
And virtue rais'd by pious arms,
Let Albion be thy fair delight,
And shield her safe from threaten'd harms:
With flow'rs and fruit her bosom fill, 95
Let laurel rise on ev'ry hill
Fresh as the first on Daphne's brow:
Instruct her tuneful sons to sing,
And make each vale with pæans ring,
To Blenheim and Ramillia due. 100
II.
Secure of bright eternal fame,
With happy wing the Theban swan,
Tow'ring from Pisa's sacred stream,
Inspir'd by thee the song began:
Thro' deserts of unclouded light, 105
When he harmonious took his flight,
The gods constrain'd the sounding spheres;
Still Envy darts her rage in vain,
The lustre of his worth to stain,
He growing whiter with his years. 110
Secure of bright eternal fame,
With happy wing the Theban swan,
Tow'ring from Pisa's sacred stream,
Inspir'd by thee the song began:
Thro' deserts of unclouded light, 105
When he harmonious took his flight,
The gods constrain'd the sounding spheres;
Still Envy darts her rage in vain,
The lustre of his worth to stain,
He growing whiter with his years. 110
III.
But, Phœbus! god of numbers, high to raise
The honours of thy art and heav'nly lyre,
What Muse is destin'd to our Sov'reign's praise,
Worthy her acts and thy informing fire?
But, Phœbus! god of numbers, high to raise
The honours of thy art and heav'nly lyre,
What Muse is destin'd to our Sov'reign's praise,
Worthy her acts and thy informing fire?
