1720-1756.

Ode in 1746.

How sleep the brave, who sink to rest,
By all their country's wishes blessed!

By fairy hands their knell is rung;
By forms unseen their dirge is sung;
There Honor comes, a pilgrim gray,
To bless the turf that wraps their clay;
And Freedom shall awhile repair,
To dwell a weeping hermit there.

The Passions. Line 1.

When Music, heavenly maid, was young,
While yet in early Greece she sung.

Line 10.

Filled with fury, rapt, inspired.

Line 28.

'Twas sad by fits, by starts 'twas wild.

Line 60.

In notes by distance made more sweet.

Line 68.

In hollow murmurs died away.

Line 95.

O Music! sphere-descended maid,
Friend of pleasure, wisdom's aid!

Eclogue 1. Line 5.

Well may your hearts believe the truths I tell; 'Tis virtue makes the bliss, where'er we dwell.

Ode on the Death of Thomson.

In yonder grave a Druid lies.