Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College

Ἄνθρωπος· ἱκανὴ πρόϕασις εἰς τὸ δυστυχεῖν .

Ye distant spires , ye antique towers , That crown the watery glade , Where grateful Science still adores Her Henry's [ Henry's . ] King Henry the Sixth , Founder of the College . holy Shade ; And ye , that from the stately brow Of Windsor's heights the expanse below Of grove , of lawn , of mead survey , Whose turf , whose shade , whose flowers among Wanders the hoary Thames along His silver-winding way . Ah happy hills , ah pleasing shade , Ah fields beloved in vain , Where once my careless childhood strayed , A stranger yet to pain ! I feel the gales , that from ye blow , A momentary bliss bestow , As waving fresh their gladsome wing , My weary soul they seem to soothe , And , redolent of joy and youth , And bees their honey redolent of spring . Dryden's Fable on the Pythag. System . [ l. 110 of Dryden's translation of Ovid , Metamorphoses , xv ] To breathe a second spring . Say , Father Thames , for thou hast seen Full many a sprightly race Disporting on thy margent green The paths of pleasure trace , Who foremost now delight to cleave With pliant arm thy glassy wave ? The captive linnet which enthrall ? What idle progeny succeed To chase the rolling circle's speed , Or urge the flying ball ? While some on earnest business bent Their murmuring labours ply 'Gainst graver hours , that bring constraint To sweeten liberty : Some bold adventurers disdain The limits of their little reign , And unknown regions dare descry : Still as they run they look behind , They hear a voice in every wind , And snatch a fearful joy . Gay hope is theirs by fancy fed , Less pleasing when possessed ; The tear forgot as soon as shed , The sunshine of the breast : Theirs buxom health of rosy hue , Wild wit , invention ever-new , And lively cheer of vigour born ; The thoughtless day , the easy night , The spirits pure , the slumbers light , That fly the approach of morn . Alas , regardless of their doom , The little victims play ! No sense have they of ills to come , Nor care beyond today : Yet see how all around 'em wait The ministers of human fate , And black Misfortune's baleful train ! Ah , show them where in ambush stand To seize their prey the murtherous band ! Ah , tell them , they are men ! These shall the fury Passions tear , The vultures of the mind , Disdainful Anger , pallid Fear , And Shame that skulks behind ; Or pining Love shall waste their youth , Or Jealousy with rankling tooth , That inly gnaws the secret heart , And Envy wan , and faded Care , Grim-visaged comfortless Despair , And Sorrow's piercing dart . Ambition this shall tempt to rise , Then whirl the wretch from high , To bitter Scorn a sacrifice , And grinning Infamy . The stings of Falsehood those shall try , And hard Unkindness' altered eye , That mocks the tear it forced to flow ; And keen Remorse with blood defiled , And moody Madness laughing wild — [ And ] Madness laughing in his ireful mood . Dryden's Fable of Palamon and Arcite . [ ii . 582 ] Amid severest woe . Lo , in the vale of years beneath A grisly troop are seen , The painful family of Death , More hideous than their Queen : This racks the joints , this fires the veins , That every labouring sinew strains , Those in the deeper vitals rage : Lo , Poverty , to fill the band , That numbs the soul with icy hand , And slow-consuming Age . To each his sufferings : all are men , Condemned alike to groan ; The tender for another's pain , The unfeeling for his own . Yet ah ! why should they know their fate ? Since sorrow never comes too late , And happiness too swiftly flies . Thought would destroy their paradise . No more ; where ignorance is bliss , 'Tis folly to be wise .