ODE 2.

To the New Year.

Ich statue double faced!

With marble temples graced,

To raise thy godhead higher;

In flames where, altars shining,

Before thy Priests divining,

Do od'rous fumes expire.

Great Janus, I thy pleasure,

With all the Thespian treasure,

Do seriously pursue:

To th' passed year returning,

As though the Old adjourning;

Yet bringing in the New.

Thy ancient Vigils yearly,

I have observèd clearly;

Thy Feasts yet smoking be!

Since all thy store abroad is;

Give something to my goddess,

As hath been used by thee!

Give her th' Eoan Brightness!

Winged with that subtle lightness

That doth transpierce the air;

The Roses of the Morning!

The rising heaven adorning,

To mesh with flames of hair;

Those ceaseless Sounds, above all,

Made by those orbs that move all;

And ever swelling there:

Wrapped up in Numbers flowing,

Them actually bestowing

For jewels at her ear.

O rapture great and holy,

Do thou transport me wholly

So well her form to vary!

That I aloft may bear her

Where as I will insphere her

In regions high and starry.

And in my choice Composures,

The soft and easy Closures

So amorously shall meet,

That every lively Ceasure

Shall tread a perfect measure,

Set on so equal feet.

That spray to fame so fert'le,

The lover-crowning myrtle,

In wreaths of mixèd boughs;

Within whose shades are dwelling

Those beauties most excelling,

Enthroned upon her brows.

Those parallels so even,

Drawn on the face of heaven,

That curious Art supposes;

Direct those gems, whose clearness

Far off amaze by nearness,

Each globe such fire encloses.

Her bosom full of blisses,

By Nature made for kisses;

So pure and wondrous clear:

Where as a thousand Graces

Behold their lovely faces,

As they are bathing there.

O thou self-little Blindness!

The kindness of unkindness,

Yet one of those Divine:

Thy Brands to me were lever,

Thy Fascia, and thy Quiver,

And thou this Quill of mine.

This heart so freshly bleeding,

Upon its own self feeding;

Whose wounds still dropping be:

O Love, thyself confounding,

Her coldness so abounding,

And yet such heat in me.

Yet, if I be inspirèd,

I'll leave thee so admirèd

To all that shall succeed;

That were they more than many,

'Mongst all there is not any

That Time so oft shall read.

Nor adamant ingravèd,

That hath been choicely savèd,

Idea's name outwears:

So large a dower as this is;

The greatest often misses,

The diadem that bears.