ODE VI.
33
Have soft, melodious airs the pow'r,
To give one free, poetick hour?
Or, from amid th' Elysian train,
The soul of Milton shall I gain,
To win the back with some cœlestial strain?
O mighty mind! O sacred flame!
My spirit kindles at his name;
Again my lab'ring bosom burns;
The Muse, th' inspiring Muse returns!
Such on the banks of Tyne confest,
I hail'd the bright, ethereal guest,
When first she seal'd me for her own,
Made all her blissful treasures known,
And bad me swear to follow Her alone.
E
ODE