ODE TO SUPERSTITION. WRITTEN IN 1785. I. 1. HENCE, to the realms of Night, dire Demon, hence! Thy chain of adamant can bind That little world, the human mind, And sink its noblest powers to impotence. Clot his shaggy mane with gore, With flashing fury bid his eyeballs shine; Meek is his savage, sullen soul, to thine! Thy touch, thy deadening touch, has steeled the breast, Whence, thro' her April shower, soft Pity smiled; Has closed the heart each godlike virtue blessed, To all the silent pleadings of his child.* At thy command he plants the dagger deep, At thy command exults, tho' Nature bids him weep! * The sacrifice of Iphigenia. I. 2. When, with a frown that froze the peopled earth,* Thou dartedst thy huge head from high, Night waved her banners o'er the sky, And, brooding, gave her shapeless shadows birth. Rocking on the billowy air, Ha! what withering phantoms glare! As blows the blast with many a sudden swell, That veils its genius from the vulgar eye: I. 3. O'er solid seas, where Winter reigns, * Lucretius, I. 63. By thee inspired, on India's sands, To quench her fever in the stream, Smit by the scorchings of the noontide beam. Blooming in her bridal vest : She hurls the torch! she fans the fire! She clasps her lord to part no more, And, wrapt in clouds, in tempests tost, Weave the airy web of Fate; While the lone shepherd, near the shipless main,‡ Sees o'er her hills advance the long-drawn funeral train. *The funeral rite of the Hindoos. The Fates of the Northern Mythology. See MALLETT's Antiquities. An allusion to the Second Sight. II. 1. Thou spak'st, and lo! a new creation glowed. Each unhewn mass of living stone Was clad in horrors not its own, And at its base the trembling nations bowed. Grasped the globe with iron hand. Circled with seats of bliss, the Lord of Light And braves the efforts of a host of years. Sweet Music breathes her soul into the wind; And bright-eyed Painting stamps the image of the mind. II. 2. Round the rude ark old Egypt's sorcerers rise! A timbrelled anthem swells the gale, And bids the God of Thunders hail;† With lowings loud the captive God replies. Clouds of incense woo thy smile, Scaly monarch of the Nile! * Æn. II. 172, &c. The bull, Apis. The crocodile. But ah! what myriads claim the bended knee?* What eye those long, long labyrinths dare explore,+ Charmed with perennial sweets, and smiling at decay? On yon II. 3. hoar summit, mildly bright§ With purple ether's liquid light, High o'er the world, the white-robed Magi gaze On dazzling bursts of heavenly fire; The temple rocks, the laurel waves! "The God! the God!" the Sibyl cries.|| * According to an ancient proverb, it was less difficult in Egypt to find a god than a man. The Hieroglyphics. The Catacombs. "The Persians," says Herodotus, "have no temples, altars, or statues. They sacrifice on the tops of the highest mountains." I. 131. || En. VI. 46, &c. |