The Poetical Works of William Collins/To Simplicity
ODE TO SIMPLICITY.
O thou by Nature taughtTo breathe her genuine thought, In numbers warmly pure, and sweetly strong; Who first, on mountains wild, In Fancy, loveliest child, 5Thy babe, or Pleasure's, nursed the powers of song!
Thou, who with hermit heart Disdain'st the wealth of art, And gauds, and pageant weeds, and trailing pall: But comest a decent maid, 10In attic robe array'd, O chaste, unboastful Nymph, to thee I call!
By all the honey'd store On Hybla's thymy shore; By all her blooms, and mingled murmurs dear; 15By her[1] whose lovelorn woe,In evening musings slow,Soothed sweetly sad Electra's poet's ear:
By old Cephisus deep,Who spread his wavy sweep, 20In warbled wanderings, round thy green retreat;On whose enamel'd side,When holy Freedom died,No equal haunt allured thy future feet.
O sister meek of Truth, 25To my admiring youth,Thy sober aid and native charms infuse!The flowers that sweetest breathe,Though Beauty cull'd the wreath,Still ask thy hand to range their order'd hues. 30
While Rome could none esteemBut virtue's patriot theme,You loved her hills, and led her laureat band:But staid to sing aloneTo one distinguish'd throne; 35And turn'd thy face, and fled her alter'd land.
No more, in hall or bower,The Passions own thy power;Love, only Love her forceless numbers mean:For thou hast left her shrine; 40Nor olive more, nor vine,Shall gain thy feet to bless the servile scene.
Though taste, though genius, blessTo some divine excess, Faints the cold work till thou inspire the whole;What each, what all supply, 45May court, may charm, our eye;Thou, only thou, canst raise the meeting soul!
Of these let others ask,To aid some mighty task, 50I only seek to find thy temperate vale;Where oft my reed might soundTo maids and shepherds round,And all thy sons, O Nature, learn my tale.