14
ODE II.
And if believing love can tread
The wonted softness in her eye,
Then shall my fears, O charming maid,
And every pain of absence die:
Then ofter to thy name attun'd,
And rising to diviner sound,
I'll wake the free Horatian song:
Old Tyne shall listen to my tale,
And Echo, down the bord'ring vale,
The liquid melody prolong.
ODE