Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 2

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Сэмюэл Ричардсон

Год написания книги

2018

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ODE TO WISDOM BY A LADY

I

The solitary bird of night
Thro' thick shades now wings his flight,
And quits his time-shook tow'r;
Where, shelter'd from the blaze of day,
In philosophic gloom he lay,
Beneath his ivy bow'r.

II

With joy I hear the solemn sound,
Which midnight echoes waft around,
And sighing gales repeat.
Fav'rite of Pallas! I attend,
And, faithful to thy summons, bend
At Wisdom's awful seat.

III

She loves the cool, the silent eve,
Where no false shows of life deceive,
Beneath the lunar ray.
Here folly drops each vain disguise;
Nor sport her gaily colour'd dyes,
As in the beam of day.

IV

O Pallas! queen of ev'ry art,
That glads the sense, and mends the heart,
Blest source of purer joys!
In ev'ry form of beauty bright,
That captivates the mental sight
With pleasure and surprise;

V

To thy unspotted shrine I bow:
Attend thy modest suppliant's vow,
That breathes no wild desires;
But, taught by thy unerring rules,
To shun the fruitless wish of fools,
To nobler views aspires.

VI

Not Fortune's gem, Ambition's plume,
Nor Cytherea's fading bloom,
Be objects of my prayer:
Let av'rice, vanity, and pride,
Those envy'd glitt'ring toys divide,
The dull rewards of care.

VII

To me thy better gifts impart,
Each moral beauty of the heart,
By studious thought refin'd;
For wealth, the smile of glad content;
For pow'r, its amplest, best extent,
An empire o'er my mind.

VIII

When Fortune drops her gay parade.
When Pleasure's transient roses fade,
And wither in the tomb,
Unchang'd is thy immortal prize;
Thy ever-verdant laurels rise
In undecaying bloom.

IX

By thee protected, I defy
The coxcomb's sneer, the stupid lie
Of ignorance and spite:
Alike contemn the leaden fool,
And all the pointed ridicule
Of undiscerning wit.

X

From envy, hurry, noise, and strife,
The dull impertinence of life,
In thy retreat I rest:
Pursue thee to the peaceful groves,
Where Plato's sacred spirit roves,
In all thy beauties drest.

XI

He bad Ilyssus' tuneful stream
Convey thy philosophic theme
Of perfect, fair, and good:
Attentive Athens caught the sound,
And all her list'ning sons around