Thomas Gray (1716-1771)
The Bard: A Pindaric Ode
I.1.
1 "Ruin seize thee, ruthless King!
2Confusion on thy banners wait,
3Tho' fann'd by Conquest's crimson wing
4They mock the air with idle state.
5Helm, nor hauberk's twisted mail,
6Nor even thy virtues, tyrant, shall avail
7To save thy secret soul from nightly fears,
8From Cambria's curse, from Cambria's tears!"
9 Such were the sounds, that o'er the crested pride
10Of the first Edward scatter'd wild dismay,
11As down the steep of Snowdon's shaggy side
12He wound with toilsome march his long array.
13Stout Glo'ster stood aghast in speechless trance;
14To arms! cried Mortimer, and couch'd his quiv'ring lance.
I.2.
15 On a rock, whose haughty brow
16Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood,
17Rob'd in the sable garb of woe,
18With haggard eyes the poet stood;
19(Loose his beard, and hoary hair
20Stream'd, like a meteor, to the troubled air)
21And with a master's hand, and prophet's fire,
22Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre;
23 "Hark, how each giant-oak, and desert cave,
24Sighs to the torrent's awful voice beneath!
25O'er thee, O King! their hundred arms they wave,
26Revenge on thee in hoarser murmurs breathe;
27Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day,
28To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay.
I.3.
29 "Cold is Cadwallo's tongue,
30That hush'd the stormy main;
31Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed:
32Mountains, ye mourn in vain
33Modred, whose magic song
34Made huge Plinlimmon bow his cloud-topp'd head.
35On dreary Arvon's shore they lie,
36Smear'd with gore, and ghastly pale:
37Far, far aloof th' affrighted ravens sail;
38The famish'd eagle screams, and passes by.
39 Dear lost companions of my tuneful art,
40Dear, as the light that visits these sad eyes,
41Dear, as the ruddy drops that warm my heart,
42Ye died amidst your dying country's cries--
43 No more I weep. They do not sleep.
44On yonder cliffs, a griesly band,
45I see them sit, they linger yet,
46Avengers of their native land:
47With me in dreadful harmony they join,
48And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line:--
II.1.
49 "'Weave the warp, and weave the woof,
50The winding sheet of Edward's race.
51Give ample room, and verge enough
52The characters of hell to trace.
53Mark the year, and mark the night,
54When Severn shall re-echo with affright
55The shrieks of death, thro' Berkley's roofs that ring,
56Shrieks of an agonising King!
57She-Wolf of France, with unrelenting fangs,
58That tear'st the bowels of thy mangled mate,
59From thee be born, who o'er thy country hangs
60The scourge of Heav'n. What terrors round him wait!
61Amazement in his van, with Flight combin'd,
62And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude behind.
II.2.
63 "'Mighty victor, mighty lord,
64Low on his funeral couch he lies!
65No pitying heart, no eye, afford
66A tear to grace his obsequies.
67 Is the Sable Warrior fled?
68Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead.
69The swarm, that in thy noon-tide beam were born?
70Gone to salute the rising Morn.
71Fair laughs the Morn, and soft the Zephyr blows,
72While proudly riding o'er the azure realm
73In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes;
74Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm;
75Regardless of the sweeping Whirlwind's sway,
76That, hush'd in grim repose, expects his evening prey.
II.3.
77 "'Fill high the sparkling bowl,
78The rich repast prepare;
79Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast.
80Close by the regal chair
81Fell Thirst and Famine scowl
82A baleful smile upon their baffled guest.
83 Heard ye the din of battle bray,
84Lance to lance, and horse to horse?
85Long years of havoc urge their destin'd course
86And thro' the kindred squadrons mow their way.
87Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame,
88With many a foul and midnight murther fed,
89Revere his consort's faith, his father's fame,
90And spare the meek usurper's holy head.
91Above, below, the rose of snow,
92Twined with her blushing foe, we spread:
93The bristled Boar in infant-gore
94Wallows beneath the thorny shade.
95Now, brothers, bending o'er th' accursed loom
96Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom.
III.1.
97 "'Edward, lo! to sudden fate
98(Weave we the woof. The thread is spun)
99Half of thy heart we consecrate.
100(The web is wove. The work is done.)'
101 Stay, oh stay! nor thus forlorn
102Leave me unbless'd, unpitied, here to mourn!
103In yon bright track, that fires the western skies!
104They melt, they vanish from my eyes.
105 But oh! what solemn scenes on Snowdon's height
106Descending slow their glitt'ring skirts unroll?
107Visions of glory, spare my aching sight,
108Ye unborn Ages, crowd not on my soul!
109No more our long-lost Arthur we bewail.
110All-hail, ye genuine kings, Britannia's issue, hail!
III.2.
111 "Girt with many a baron bold
112Sublime their starry fronts they rear;
113And gorgeous dames, and statesmen old
114In bearded majesty appear.
115In the midst a form divine!
116Her eye proclaims her of the Briton-line;
117Her lion-port, her awe-commanding face,
118Attemper'd sweet to virgin-grace.
119What strings symphonious tremble in the air,
120What strings of vocal transport round her play!
121Hear from the grave, great Taliessin, hear;
122They breathe a soul to animate thy clay.
123Bright Rapture calls, and soaring, as she sings,
124Waves in the eye of Heav'n her many-colour'd wings.
III.3.
125 "The verse adorn again
126Fierce War, and faithful Love,
127And Truth severe, by fairy Fiction drest.
128In buskin'd measures move
129Pale Grief, and pleasing Pain,
130With Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast.
131A voice, as of the cherub-choir,
132Gales from blooming Eden bear;
133And distant warblings lessen on my ear,
134That lost in long futurity expire.
135 Fond impious man, think'st thou, yon sanguine cloud,
136Rais'd by thy breath, has quench'd the orb of day?
137To-morrow he repairs the golden flood,
138And warms the nations with redoubled ray.
139 Enough for me: with joy I see
140The different doom our Fates assign.
141Be thine Despair, and scept'red Care,
142To triumph, and to die, are mine."
143 He spoke, and headlong from the mountain's height
144 Deep in the roaring tide he plung'd to endless night.
Online text copyright © 2009, Ian Lancashire (the Department of English) and the University of Toronto.
Published by the Web Development Group, Information Technology Services, University of Toronto Libraries.
Original text: Thomas Gray, Odes by Mr. Gray (Strawberry Hill: R. and J. Dodsley, 1757). D-10 4088 Fisher Rare Book Library (Toronto).
First publication date:
1757
RPO poem editor: N. J. Endicott
RP edition: 2RP 1.716.
Recent editing: 4:2002/4/20
Composition date:
1754
-
1757
Composition date note: 1754-57
Form: Pindaric Ode
Rhyme: irregularly rhyming (quatrains and couplets)
Other poems by Thomas Gray
